#turning unnecessarily rude to anyone who happens to follow a god even if that person has shown them nothing but kindness?

[lexidanger]

I really love Crit Role and im almost 60 eps in, I LOVE Grog and the twins, Pike is an angel and Matt is a fucking DM God

 but I cannot for the life of me enjoy Keyleth

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

Curse

Where she's cursed with immortality so she chases around the reincarnations of her first love over and over again and the one time she’s decided to give up, it just happens to be an explosive blonde.

Warning : none!

Words : 6590 (wtf my goal was 3000)

Masterlist 

A/N : Thank you all for being so patient. The ending is kinda rushed, but I hope you enjoy!

Quirks had left an undeniable mark on the face of society. It just came one day and slapped some magical powers on to someone and left just as quickly, with no explanation whatsoever. No one knew why, or how. Nothing could've hinted to the appearance of quirks and none of the decades of research that followed had any more insight into the matter. Y/N was quirkless. Immortal yes, but she had no quirk of herself. She was born a thousand and so years ago, in Japan, and within a decade or two, became known throughout the lands for her immaculate beauty and poise. She became an object of affection for thousands, and one of the men happened to be the emperor. Bakugou Katsuki. He had approached her presence with the sole intent of adding the most beautiful woman in the world to his harem. He was an arrogant and prideful noble, and the thought of her in his grasp has excited him to no end. He could then prance around with his head held up so high that people would crane their necks to meet his eyes. He smugly grinned at the idea of her clinging to his arm, or for her to be waiting for him back at the palace with the rest of his concubines. He flooded her with extravagant gifts, compliments and praises, small private dates in a back garden of the palace, away from prying eyes and complaints of Bakugou's other dozen girls. She had been easily wooed, being kept away from suitors from an early age, the emperor had certainly been her first escape into romance and she was ecstatic. Her parents had gleamed at the idea of her being with the most powerful man in all of Japan, and had given her away to the palace at the first suggestion of the emperor's affection. 

He had fallen in love with her, not only her beauty but her personality, her small habits and her other mannerisms. It wasn't his initial plan, he had only wanted to add her presence into his long list of women, that he had reassured the other women, but his heart can softened considerably and he had fallen hard. Anyone around the emperor could see that, even the towns' people were gossiping about it. The other concubines too, quickly caught on. She was a woman of absolute beauty, only a few hairs short of Y/N's, a princess of a famous descent from China, promised to be married to the emperor. He had taken a liking to her because like himself, she too had a quirk, which was still a very rare trait to have at the time. One of curses, sure it was evil in nature, but she had proven to be a responsible and respected lady. It all turned sour when her fiance liked another woman. In her rage, she had cursed the younger woman. The aforementioned girl had been told what had been done by the princess, by the sobbing and apologetic woman herself, but she was clueless to what extent this curse was. She had forgiven the princess straight away, an act of kindness that the nobles had shined to and the emperor had simply fell more in love with her for. But as countless years went by, she stayed the same. She then truly realised the horrors of her curse and at that moment in time, she wished she hadn't been so naive, so kind to just forgive the woman who left her life in ruins. The curse was one of immortality. Something she couldn't escape even after the princess had passed away. To watch her lovers grow up and prosper, only to stay the same young woman when she watched they started to wilt and eventually die.   And so here she was. An entity of over a thousand years old and yet she remained the same bubbly and happy woman on the outside, smiling brightly at the cameras as she walked around the towns. Everyone in Japan knew of her. Not only did her predicament attract the attention of the public, she was also the CEO of Japan's most well known and successful hero agency. She had set up the agency with her husband, Katsuki, a mere 18 years ago, before he was killed in one of the largest villain attacks in Japan history 2 years after it opened. They had employed All Might when he was in his younger days as well as worked with all of the top 10 heroes, and after his death, she become the sole chairman of the agency. And thanks to the technology present in the modern day, those who weren't previously interested in her at least knew her name. There was then the nickname the media had given her after she had survived the attack : ‘The Undead Hero.’ She sure as hell wasn’t a hero. For god’s sake she was quirkless! But the internet took joy to praising her successes within the hero world. And as a joke, an online petition started for her to become licensed pro hero and the people in charge decided there'd be no harm, since she can't die and all, in making her one, titling her in as Pro Hero Number Zero. So here you were, the country's first quirkless pro hero. ~~~ You had watched the UA sports festival, looking for students to intern here at your company. One certain blonde had caught your eye but you felt yourself flinch at the mention of his full name. It had certainly been a long time since the last time you met another reincarnation of your first love. There had been many different personalities before and the situation you met him in varied to such extent that you had given up with the idea of repeatedly seeking him out and your last encounter with him, or his spirit at least, was your breaking point. You have a good 16 years to grieve his unfortunate and untimely death but even the ten hundred years you were alive wasn't enough time for you to forget and move on. It seemed that you had a curse where you could never escape your one lover, but maybe that was the package deal with immortality. "We're definitely sending an offer out to him right boss?" your assistant, Naomi asked, writing down that all so familiar name down on a notepad. "Up to you, I'm taking a break." you replied, standing up and walking away from the big screen. You knew her eyes softened as she watched your figure retreat out of the room, after all she was there with you after your husband died. Your husband, the one who shared the same name as the boy mentioned. "Alright I'll send you the list later." she replied softly, before turning her attention back to the live broadcast, which now showed a green haired boy. "Thanks. I'll look over it and then you can send out the offers tomorrow." you said before completely leaving the room. It had been a week since the sports festival and it was time for the internships. You had a very important meeting in the morning, causing you to regrettably miss welcoming the trainee heroes to your agency. Standing up, you voiced your thanks and bowed, to which the other businessmen and women returned the guesture.

"I'll be expecting to see you soon." you smiled as Naomi showed then out. "Of course." one of them replied, smiling once more before all of them left the building. Waiting for them to disappear completely from sight, you turned back around. "Alright, what's next?" you asked, looking over. "Next we need to speak to the interns. Briefly would be fine but we need a positive review of our work place." she replied and started walking away, to which you followed. "Of course." you replied curtly. To be frank, you didn't need her to remind you how to keep up the reputation, after all you had been running the agency for almost 20 years but you bit your tongue as you didn't want her to feel as if her work was unwelcome. She was a great assistant and you knew that you needed her and her abilities. Turning the corner, someone roughly crashed you into you, sending you tumbling back a few steps. "Watch it." they snapped, sending to you a glare. "E-excuse me." Naomi stuttered. She wasn't too intimidated by the way the young boy was fuming, instead at her bosses reaction. You had a vendetta against extremely rude people and she braced herself for an ugly ending. "What?" he scowled, turning to send her a nasty look before he turned his attention back to you. You pursed your lips, unsure whether to snap back or not as you didn't want to cause a scene. The meeting had taken much longer than expected. It was only two in the afternoon but all you wanted to do was sleep, but you needed to meet the interns and consolidate the arrangements with the other heroes that worked here. "Well are you going to say anything?" he asked. "Why are you just standing there like a idiot?" "Young boy I don't think that's very appropriate to say to someone." Naomi said quietly, eyes flickering to observe your reaction. "Well it's true isn't it." You let out a sigh, deciding to not waste your energy on anything out of your plan, especially people who were unnecessarily rude. "Hey, don't ignore me." he shouted as you walked past him, your assistant shuffling behind you. You walked briskly towards the training halls, ignoring his shouts for you to acknowledge him. He eventually stopped to pick up a phone call but at that point you had already walked down two corridors, too far away to hear him stop shouting profanities at you. You pushed open the doors to the largest training hall in your building, leaning on the wall next to the door as you watched several people combat each other. You had stayed there for no more than a minute or too when the fuming blonde stomped back in. A green haired boy, Midoriya was it, waved excitedly at the him, but he simply flipped him over, moving over to the side of the hall. If they had any more interactions planned, they had to be stopped there as one of the heroes spotted you, quickly shouting for everyone to come over and you slowly walked onto on of the courts. "I'm glad you to see that none of you are slacking off." you announced loudly, your eyes scanning over the small crowd of people. "Of course not boss." a young hero replied. You smiled at her with a small nod. "Boss?" someone shouted and you turned slightly to spot the blonde from earlier, his mouth hung open. "It's nice to meet you Bakugou-san." you said, a small bitter edge to your words before you turned back to the rest, a large smile on your face. "Good afternoon everyone, it's a shame I wasn't able to welcome you this morning, I hope there hasn't been any trouble. My name is Y/N and I'm incredibly pleased that you chose to intern at my agency." "Y/N!" Midoriya shouted, a look of glee filling his face. "You're my favourite hero, I love you so much." he shouted, jumping up and down in excitement. The gesture from the boy made you grin even wider. It was almost as if some of his endless energy had been transferred to you. "That makes me very happy, thank you Midoriya." "She knows my name!" he shouted, earning a few praises and snickers. "Shut up Deku." Bakugou seethed. He was fuming at the thought of you. He had not only completely embarrassed himself in front of you, but also insulted you, the CEO! He cursed himself for not researching prior to this, but the fact that you seemed so young to him gave no implications that you were the big boss of this place. "Alright." you shouted, clapping your hands together. "Let's get this show on the road." ~~~ Midoriya had fallen asleep extremely quickly, a small 'good night Kacchan' and he had been out like a light. But the same had not befallen Bakugou and instead he stayed awake, shifting and turning restlessly as he lay on the bottom bunk. After a few more moments of him lying wide awake, he shuffled out of his bed and left the room. He walked down the corridor, planning to head towards the kitchen when he spotted a light on. It was indeed the same direction in which he wished to go so he followed it. Stepping inside the room, he saw you sat on the couch. Your back was to him and you were muttering something. As he got closer, he made out the words falling from your mouth. "He loves me, he loves me not." He turned around to exit the room, sure that you wanted nothing but space, but his foot slipped slightly and he fell slightly, cursing. You jumped at the sound behind you. "Oh I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" you asked, looking up and around at him with a sniffle. Your cheeks were flush and the tip of your nose red, a few stray tears resting on your cheeks. Bakugou stood their awkwardly as you wiped your sleeve across your eyes and cheeks. He didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't comforted someone in years, always opting to leave his group of friends to take care of a problem, only ever observing from the side line. "D-do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. He tried to make sure his words were more gentle than usual, careful not to make you start crying again. Your eyes widened at his questioned but you slowly nodded. Patting the space next to you on the couch, you smiled slightly. "Have a seat Bakugou." You laughed at the irony. Here you were crying about your deceased husband as his reincarnation sat beside you, offer on the table to listen to your troubles. Your mind began to wander at the word troubles. What exactly in your life was going wrong? It was a simple answer really, everything. "So how are you?" you asked, breaking the silence. He blinked a couple times in confusion. "I'm good." he answered slowly, his voice low and hushed. "Well that's good." you nodded turning back to the lonesome rose stem in your hand that you had been previously picking the petal off from. "So why are you up?" you asked. Bakugou at this point was lost for words. Wasn't you the one who had been crying? Why were you so intrigued in asking him questions? "Couldn't sleep." he muttered, a glare on his face as he stared forwards at the coffee table, trying desperately to understand you. "Fair enough." you hummed, turning to look in the same direction as him, your eyes landing on your untouched mug of hot chocolate. "Do you want a drink?" you asked, gesturing to the mug on the table. "I haven't drank from it yet." Bakugou nodded, after all he had come out of his room for the hopes of getting a drink. "Thanks." he muttered. You watched as the boy brought the mug up to his lips and you thought back to your previous encounter with his spirit. "He liked hot chocolate too." you mumbled, turning away and back at the rose stem. "Did you say something?" he asked, mug in hand as he sent you a glance. You pursed your lips, taking a moment before shaking you head. "No, it was... nothing." you trailed off. "Well you accepted my offer so you'd better start talking." he scoffed, but his angry facade was falling apart almost as quickly as he started it and he was sure you could see through it, but you decided not to comment on it. And so you spent the rest of your night with Bakugou. He had proven to be much more thoughtful than you had imagined, less rude and obnoxious, which you were grateful for. It was obvious that he hadn't recognised you during your first encounter, and more than likely did not know about your immortality. You didn't need any more pity for that. So you talked about your husband, to an extent, keeping away from mentioning his name, instead reminiscing the memories you had with him. The younger boy listened, nodding and throwing in small comment here and there. The two of you exchanged a few more words after that topic, but in an hour or two, it was a simple silence. He had fallen asleep next to you, a peaceful look on his face. You got up and cleaned away the mug and flower petals, before returning to your room to get a blanket. Laying it gently on him, you took the liberty to press a kiss to his forehead before leaving, turning off the lights. "Sleep well Katsuki." ~~~ Bakugou was needless to say, very disappointing that he had barely seen you all week. He understood that you had a lot on your plate running a business, but a part of him had hoped that after your emotional night with him on the first day, you would at least take some time to say hello to him. He had went to the living room a further 5 more times, hoping that you would be there waiting for him. But he found himself being disappointed time and time again when he saw that there was no room with a light on in the corridor. Today was his last day of fully interning, he was due to leave the following morning and although he could say he was very happy to leave the other bastards in the company behind, he couldn't say the same for you. In truth, he had formed a small interest in you. Call it a crush or whatever, it wasn't as if he would say it out loud. Sure you had a pretty face and all, that much he would admit, but he was genuinely confused by your appearance. You said you had been running the agency for almost 20 years but you didn't look anywhere near your 40s? That had greatly puzzled the explosive boy. "Deku." he shouted, catching the attention of the smart boy as he was chatting with one of the heroes. "Y-yes Kacchan?" "How old do you think Y/N is?" he asked. The green haired boy gasped, shaking his head. "Kacchan! It's rude to ask about a girls age." he scolded him, to which Bakugou snorted. "But between you and me, I'd say about a thousand and one hundred?" "Are you shitting me you nerd?" he bellowed, hand raised with his palm upwards, ready to start an explosion. The hero chipped in. "I'd say so too. She's definitely over a thousand." she commented. "I think last year was her one thousand and seventyith birthday? I could be wrong, I wasn't invited to the party." she sulked. "You two are fucking joking right?" "We're not." the hero replied, furrowing her eyebrows before she let out a small gasp. "Are you telling me you've never heard of the boss?" "No. Should I have?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes!" she cried out, throwing her hands up in the air, before bringing them down and massaging her forehead. "You're overreacting." Bakugou stated, giving a deadpan look to the girl as he let out a 'tch' in annoyance. "She really not Kacchan, literally everyone has heard of Y/N. She's a massive sensation in the hero community but also the beauty one, I'm not sure how you've never come across her." The truth was Bakugou had come across your name on his browser, twice, maybe three times. But most of them had popped up during the start of the school year, when Midoriya had suddenly shown up with a quirk. So as soon as he read that you were quirkless, he made sure to avoid your name like the plague. Midoriya soon left to start his patrolling, and left Bakugou standing there, thinking about you. With many more questions than he had answers. ~~~ "Y/N." he said, standing at the doorway of your office and you and your assistant stared back in confusion. "Hello there Bakugou, is there anything I can help you with?" you asked. He froze up at your question. Why was he here? He had barged past some security just a few moments prior, saying he had something urgent to talk to with the boss, but now that he was here, no excuse would pop up in his mind. "Alright Naomi, give me a few minutes." you said, handing the papers you hand in your hand off to Naomi before she nodded and left. "So." you began, leaning forwards so both your elbows were on the desk and your chin rested on the back of your intertwined fingers. "Have a seat Bakugou." You gestured to the big chair in front of your desk and he complied, sitting down in utter silence. He opened his mouth to speak but it took a few seconds for the words to come out. "I haven't seen you in a while." he blurted out. He immediately wanted to slam his head into the desk before him, cringing at his words and the smug smile that you shot him. "If I knew any better, I'd say you missed me Bakugou." “Katsuki." he corrected, eyes trailed carefully on yours. You nodded and ran a hand through your hair.

"Honestly, I'd love to stay and talk Katsuki, but I'm on a tight schedule right now." you explained, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his response. "Will I see you again tonight?" he asked, his voice so quiet that he seemed almost... shy. Your smile grew wider. "Sure thing. I'll make sure to swing around earlier so you don't need to stay up so late waiting for me." He nodded at your response and started to get up. "Tell Naomi to come back in when you leave." "Alright." he muttered, turning away towards the door. "And Katuski?" you said, earning a grunt from the younger male. "I missed you too." He quickly turned away at your statement but you could see the tips of his ears grow red. Of course you had missed him. He was the only other person you confided in about your husband other than Naomi. But it was truly Bakugou Katsuki that you had missed. His soul that you had hopelessly fell in love with over and over again. The result was always the same, and after each time, you would tell yourself that it was the last. But he would always come back. And you, once again, would fall for him, like a drug that you simply couldn't fight the addiction of. And so you braced yourself for another heartbreak. After all, it was inevitable. ~~~ Bakugou had waited for you in the living room of the dorm space he currently stayed in, a cup of chocolate in his hands and one for you placed on the coffee table. You kept to your word and came earlier. It was around 11pm when you slipped into the dorm floor of the building. Seeing the light on, you made your way quietly towards it. "Hey." you said, your voice warm and gentle as he looked up towards you, moving to hand you the mug. "Thank you." You sat down on the couch with your legs crossed and he chucked a blanket to yo, to which you laid on your lap. "Is there anything in specific you want to talk about?" "You." he stated. You hummed in response. The rest of the night he asked questions about you, your immortality and more about your latest deceased husband, who he found out the name of. He recognised the hurt that flashed in your eyes as you recalled telling him about your immortality. He had be an accepting person, loving you for you as a person and paying little to no mind to your unchanging outer appearance. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. There had been times were his act slipped and he crumbled, talking about how he wanted to grow old with you, not for you to look the same when he was in his older years and your children looked the same age as you. But of course you hadn't even gotten the chance to think about having children, setting up the agency had taken up most of your time, and which to this day you still regret. You wished you had spent more time with him, appreciating him instead of work, before his dying moment. You hadn't thought too much about things, his presence made you live in the moment, not caring about any problems or consequences as long as he was with you. But of course he wasn't. He had left too early. The younger boy had wrapped an arm around your shoulder when you began to sniffle, grabbing a box of tissues from the table for you. After he was satisfied with the amount of answers you gave him, he opened up about the guilt that he felt for All Might's retirement. He told you about the things he witnessed during the fight against All for One, how utterly useless he felt. He followed with nightmares that visited him almost every night, how he was force himself to stay awake to avoid them, causing him to form a habit of being unable to sleep. You had been so understanding and sweet that the boy couldn't help but let out a few tears, relishing in your soft touches and soothing tone that he eventually fell asleep in your arms. The following morning he waited excitedly for you too see him off along with the other heroes from your company. But you didn't come. He left in the train with a heavy heart, head titled backwards against the glass window as he thought back. He hadn't seen you in the morning, waking up alone and in his own bed. He had wandered out into the living room, hoping that your figure would be sleeping on the couch, but alas, you weren't there. His way home was unusually silent. Midoriya had definitely picked up on it but when he attempted to talk to the blonde, he only received shouts and threats. He eventually gave up, opting to leave the teen to his own devices. Once Bakugou returned home, he unpacked him clothes, throwing everything into a pile to wash. He turned every pocket inside out and when he got to his pajama bottom, a small piece of paper fell out. 'Hey sorry I had to leave so early in the morning, here's my number if you wanted to talk more. xxxxx-xxx-xxx' He instantly smiled, diving for his phone, typing your number in just as quickly before he sent you a text. ~~~ It had been a few months since the internships and Bakugou had found himself calling you on a regular basis. It would mostly be in late into the night, with you obviously busy with your agency during the daylight hours. You would talk about your day, ask him about his. He would often complain about his classmates, maybe his teacher, but on some rare occasions he would say something nice about them, like how Shitty hair had improved in combat or that Deku was getting progressively less annoying. You listened, giving him tips about a variety of things, ranging from things about the general hero world or what he should get for his pink skinned friend's birthday. And he soon found himself hopelessly falling in love with you. He hadn't planned for this to happen. Fuck, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't. He didn't want to have to deal with the consequences of your immortality, but he found himself crawling back to you even at a bat of your eyelashes. Your grasp on him was truly... inescapable. He had been horrified at the thought, refusing to acknowledge your existence. Your calls would go through to voicemail, your texts left unread. You didn't understand why he was ghosting you, beating yourself up about it over a few glasses of wine as you slowly sunk into sadness. It was another simply another repeated loop and you recognised all of the signs, but you felt what was left of your heart completely shatter. Sure you had previous reincarnations reject you because they disliked, or even feared, the idea of you being immortal, but they had made it clear at the beginning, not half a year into talking with you daily. Your mood soured drastically, and Naomi had tried to persuade you into talking to her, but you refused to, keeping all of your thoughts bottled up. You buried yourself with more and more work, creating a wall around you that even the one or two friends you had couldn't break down, let alone your employees. The company continued to receive praise, by media and heroes alike, but what used to be your sole joy and pride left nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth. You had gotten so used to Bakugou's company that without hearing his voice left you so empty. And to save yourself from being hurt like a broken record on repeat, you gave up on love. ~~~ It was on an interview that Bakugou witnessed the true extent of what his actions had done to you. He had the unfortunate timing of walking in when Midoriya was watching your interview live on the big screen in the common room. Bakugou had initially refused to stay, but his friends had forced him to, saying something about how he should see how his old mentor was doing. He had complained to the point where his friends willingly let him go but instead he begrudgingly stayed, standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed as he furrowed his brows at the screen You sat across from the interviewer, a tired expression on your face as you explained the agency's plans and future aims. The other woman nodded, asking questions here and there, and then it came to the questions fans asked. "Have you been taking care of yourself?" The question caught you off guard and your breath hitched. You tried to take a deep breath in but everything around you started to blur together into nothing but a background noise. "S-sorry, could I have a moment?" you asked, but before she gave you any answer, you had already left the set. At the same time, Bakugou slipped out of the common room, his heart clenching at the terrible state you were in. When he first met you, only a few months ago, you stood high with your head help up high, a sort of excitement in your eyes, an aura of authority when you dared to ignore him! But now you were reduced to short sentences and even shorter smiles, fake and forced. And unbeknown to you, you were doing the same to him. His loud shouts had reduced to smaller, and less often sharp erratic outbursts. The distance he had put between him and his friends was almost immeasurable and none of them could reach even close enough to console him in the slightest. He had shut the world out completely, solely focusing on training and school work. He gritted his teeth as he fought back the itch to call you, but eventually he relented, taking him phone out of his pocket and dialling on your number. He sure wasn't expecting you to pick up, but when you did, his heart felt elated. "Hello?" you asked, your phone on speaker by the side as you dried your hands in the bathroom, lookign at yourself in the mirror and giving yourself an encouraging nod. "H-hi." he whispered, locking himself up in his room as he sat down on the floor, his back against the door. "I'm sorry." ~~~ He was in his early twenties, too young to be giving up what his future held. You hadn't meant to choose his path for him, but you had indirectly done so when you said no. So there he sat with his head in his hands, cheeks stained with tears and the ring somewhere lost in the corner of his room. It was selfish, you knew, but the time you spent with him only felt like a ticking bomb, each week, day, hour even, was counting down to the day in which you would lose him. And you weren't ready. He knew it was a stupid move to make. After all, you have discussed with him countless times about how scared you were to commit to a relationship you knew would once again end up in flames. "Death is inevitable." he said, watching as you fiddled with his sleeve as you laid together on the couch. "Well not for me." you countered back. "If you could remove this curse, would you?" "I don't know Katsuki. I'm honestly so scared." You shifted so your face was buried in his chest. "I've seen what death can do and I'm just so, so scared." "I want to grow old with someone I love." you continued. "I really do. But I don't know how to feel knowing that was my last few years alive. I've been around for so long that I've become afraid to die." "I'm tired of the heartbreak, but there's always a comforting moment because I know you'll come back. Sooner or later, your soul will be back in my arms, whether it takes 20 years or 200. But if I were to find a way to remove my curse and you died before me, I'd never see you again." He found himself at a lack of words that day. Nothing would leave his mouth so the only thing he could do to comfort you was to hug you even tighter. Eventually something came to his mind. "What if I just find a way to be immortal too?" he asked. You looked up at him. "That's highly illegal Katsuki. Think about it, if you could easily do that, then everyone would be able to live forever. And normally, the effect of the quirk disappears as soon as they die." He hummed in response, mood downcast that he couldn't help you in any way. He spent the rest of the night comforting you to the best of his abilities. You truly had felt better after his words, but he didn't see the subtle change in mood. He wanted to reassure you, to be someone you could rely on. But all he brought into your life was constant worry. He replayed your words in his head on a loop. He already saw this coming, but his constant refusal to acknowledge his situation had led to his downfall.   You had sent him a quick message and in the following days, you hadn't picked up his calls in days. He had called your assistant as well as visited your company, but he was told you weren’t there. He cried in anguish at how hell bent you were at avoiding him, even going to the extent of having your employees lie for you. But he soon found that they weren't lying. No one had seen you in weeks and your fans had picked up on it fairly quickly. There were articles all over the internet, forums and interviews with her assistant and closest friend. "She has left on her own accord." Naomi stated as multiple cameras flashed in her eyes. You had told her you were out to seek happiness, as vague as it had been, and that she needed to cover for you during the month or so that you were gone. That was all of the information you had given her, before you disappeared without a trace. She sighed at your foolishness but part of her resonated with you, knowing she too would do anything for her love.  You sent Bakugou a 'I'll talk to you later' text, before taking apart your phone, leaving it under your pillow before grabbing your get away bag and leaving by train. His proposal haunted your every thought, and it drove you insane. He knew you were scared of commitment and heartache and yet he still asked you! You didn't blame him though. More so yourself. Nobody had made you talk to him about your troubles or reach out to him. You had given him your phone number. He could've left your company with new knowledge about the hero world and not about you, but he already had your heart and you had taken the opportunity to reconcile with your first love, regardless of whether it would leave you in ruins in the future. You were going to make this right. You were so utterly tired of the constant dull looming tide of sadness, doubt, anger. You wanted it to end, you really did. You had told Bakugou you were scared of dying. You were. But your greatest fear was losing him and you couldn't take it anymore. You raised your hand to knock and a large smile decorated your face. It had been a good month since you had last talked to him. You had set out to the remote countryside, searching for some young woman who had a curse removing quirk. 

You had gone with no expectations, telling yourself over and over again that you would be fine if it was unsuccessful. But deep down you knew you would be distraught if your current situation could not change.

The door opened to the blonde, his instantly furrowed his brows as his mouth hung open.

"Hey Katsuki." "Y-Y/N?" "I think I'm going to die-" "What?" he shouted, startling you. "Let me finish." you laughed. "I think I'm going to die in 50 or so years. Hopefully longer if that means I can be with you until old age." "W-what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion littering his face. "I'm no longer immortal." you grinned, before it fell slightly. "At least I think I am, the girl told me he got rid of the curse fully, but I’m not expecting too much." He continued to stutter, incoherent sentences falling from his lips as he fought back tears. "Surprise?" you asked, letting out a nervous chuckle. You started to grow worried at his reaction. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but your feet stayed frozen in place, after all you had rejected him a month or so ago.   "Y-you got rid of your curse?" You nodded and he asked another question. "For me?" "Of course silly. Who else am I going to die with?" you laughed. His nose scrunched up as he tried desperately to comprehend the situation. "Aren't you scared?" "You'll be there with me right?" "Of course." he quickly said, nodding his head. "I thought." he trailed off and wrapped you up in his arms, head in the crook of your neck as his body shook with sobs. "I thought you left me." "I'm sorry." you said repeating it quietly over and over again. "I love you so much." "I love you too."

Taglist : 

@boku-no-family @toobsessedsstuff @renarderouges @thatonegeekchick @mrminyoongles @yourscorpiodaddy​

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Nice Try (Dark KISSteria)

Well well well, look what’s back! It’s another Dark KISSteria story! I was thinking yesterday about Dark!StarDahlia’s weird friendship that they have in this AU, as @cosmicrealmofkissteria will know because we keep talking about it lol. And long story short, this little baby was born! I finished writing it earlier today, so I hope you enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Starchild was fuming. Damn the Council. Damn his mother though damn her less than the Council. The Council, who always told him he should take a “fine KISSterian woman” as his Queen so he could successfully take the throne after the Elder without much fuss.

And he would have agreed… except for the fact that he absolutely could not stand all of their choices. They blushed too much, giggled too much, hell sometimes spoke too much. It did give him some joy to turn them down, and see their faces crumble when they realized they wouldn’t be marrying the Star Prince. That was what mattered, of course; they would have been marrying the most eligible man in KISSteria, would have been Queen of KISSteria. And to watch them as he destroyed that dream… it was very satisfying indeed.

All of them had been predictable… that is until Black Dahlia.

The Council had suggested her as his next potential wife, as it would strengthen the alliance between the throne and the Sisterhood of the Natural Order. She was a plain looking woman, once you disregarded the purple of her hair. It was a darker purple, like wine. Black and purple was what it was. She wore black robes, and had small dark purple flowers running down the side of her face. It was striking.

But her face being striking didn’t make Starchild any more intrigued by her. It was her manner towards him. She was silent, almost defiantly so, and when she spoke it was intelligently. He had heard rumors about her, of course, of her experiments with death, how death had followed her like a second shadow all her life. A potential Necromancer within the Sisterhood had clearly made the Council incredibly nervous.

And while he was amused by anything that unnerved the Council… he still despised the fact that he would have to marry this woman. And they would be expected to consummate the marriage at some point. Disgusting…

Just thinking about it as he headed down the hallway towards his bedroom made him want to hit something. At least it was nighttime. He didn’t have to converse with anyone, especially not—

“Excuse me, Prince Starchild,”

Gods damn it all.

He looked over his shoulder to see Black Dahlia herself standing behind him. He put on an impassive look. “Good evening, Black Dahlia. Is there anything you need?” Like manners?

“Yes. I was hoping you could remind me of the way to the guest wing. I seem to have lost my way.”

Ugh of course she did. And hoping? What was he, a map? Nonetheless, it would be rude to not respond. “Go back the way you came, and when you come to the staircase turn right. The guest wing will be that way.”

“Thank you. Forgive me, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, but my mind has been… out of sorts lately.”

“Really?” I could care less.

“Yes. Perhaps it is because I am living here now. The mind is powerful, but it can also be delicate. And with such immense change in my life… one could go mad with the pressure.” Black Dahlia gave him a slight smile and curtsied. “But I suppose you don’t care for what I say at the moment. Thank you for the directions. Have a good night.”

Starchild gave her a nod, and as she disappeared down the corner a slow smile crept onto his face. Her words had given him an idea…

-KISSTERIA-

Starchild lay down in his bed and closed his eyes. He felt a shifting sensation in his body, and when he opened his eyes he was floating above his body on the bed. He flew out of his bedroom, through his door and down the hallway. Lights blew out as he flew past, causing the confusion of a few servants, but he paid them no mind as he headed for the guest wing of the castle.

Finally he came to the room he knew Black Dahlia was staying in, and flew inside. He saw her form on her bed, lying on her back with her hands folded, and looking like a corpse in a coffin. He couldn’t help but snort a bit; what a fitting pose, considering her reputation.

Now, to enter her mind…

“Black Dahlia…” he whispered, making his voice as sensual as possible. Black Dahlia’s head turned to the side, but other than that she gave no response. He lowered himself down and placed his hands on her waist. “Black Dahlia… won’t you open your pretty eyes for me?”

“Mmph…”

“Come now, I know you want to. Why resist?” Starchild let his lips fall just above the skin of her neck, and when he spoke his lips barely grazed the skin. “You really are such a beautiful woman… Won’t you open your eyes for me?”

Black Dahlia sighed quietly, and her eyes slowly opened. There; that was his opening. “Why don’t you take me into your mind… I want to see what happens in your pretty head.”

“Yes…” Black Dahlia breathed out. Starchild kept moving his hands up her waist, while projecting his mind into hers.

It was dark, though it was lit up by candles. There were shelves and shelves of ancient tomes, and skulls all around. He couldn’t help an intrigued hum as he kept seducing Black Dahlia. “Just what happens in this lovely mind of yours?” He almost didn’t want to damage this mind. It was fascinating… But of course there was still that “almost”.

Black Dahlia sighed as he pressed his lips to her neck in a slow kiss. “So many things… Not all of them for the faint of heart.”

“A person could go mad, couldn’t they?” Starchild hummed as he slowly kissed down her neck. “If they knew what you could do, or if they knew what happens here.”

“Yes… It’s a pity you’ll never find out.”

Starchild tensed as all the candles suddenly were snuffed out, plunging the room into darkness. Black Dahlia suddenly vanished, leaving him alone in an empty void. He looked around in shock. “What…”

He suddenly felt a presence behind him and turned. There was Black Dahlia, floating behind him, with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. “Nice try, Prince Starchild. But I think it’s time you went back to bed.”

She shot forward and pushed her hand against Starchild’s forehead. There was a rushing feeling all around him as he was forced out and away… then he woke up back in his own body with a gasp.

He sat up, breathing heavily. Had he just… Had Black Dahlia just forced him out??? While she was being seduced by him, no less???

His hands curled into fists as shock slowly turned into rage.

From her bedroom, Black Dahlia lay fast asleep. Then she suddenly heard an indignant scream come from somewhere, whether it was in the castle or in her mind. A triumphant smile crossed her face; this round went to her.

-KISSTERIA-

The next morning, Starchild went down to breakfast in a dark mood. Black Dahlia… He still couldn’t believe that woman had been able to not just resist him, but throw him out of her mind so easily. He hated it.

“Prince Starchild,”

He swore under his breath and fought the urge to commit murder right then and there. He turned around and put on a coolly polite smile. “Black Dahlia. Good morning. How was your sleep last night?” The last bit was said through clenched teeth.

Black Dahlia seemed very unruffled as she smiled and curtsied. There was something almost mocking about it. “I slept very well. I had a lovely dream. In fact I think you were in it.”

“Unsurprising. I am in many dreams.” He offered his arm to her. “If you spend more time with me I may appear in your dreams again.”

Black Dahlia linked her arm through his. “I look forward to it,”

As they went down the hallway to breakfast, she said in a low voice, “Do you make it a habit of invading peoples’ minds?”

Starchild’s expression darkened somewhat. “Only when they annoy me or show offense, or have something I want.”

“And which category do I fall under?”

Starchild had to keep his hand from tightening around her arm. “You will have to invade my mind to learn that.”

“All right. It should be easy enough, considering how easy it was to force you out of my mind last night.”

Starchild finally stopped dead and turned to give her a fierce glare. “I hate you,” he growled out.

“I’ll get over it,” Black Dahlia shot back. “In the meantime, let’s get breakfast and pretend we are happy to be getting married to each other. And perhaps later on I can teach you how to invade someone’s mind and not be forced out so easily.”

He took a moment to consider her words, and finally ground out, “Fine.” He offered her his arm again.

As they headed down the hallway to breakfast, Starchild couldn’t help what he said next. “Perhaps if you don’t annoy me unnecessarily, I could learn to like you.”

Black Dahlia smiled slightly. “Same here. You can be an insufferable peacock, but I surprisingly find myself enjoying some of your company.”

Starchild nodded. “So we are both in agreement.”

“Yes, we are,”

“Good.” He gave her a sickly sweet smile. “Because if you push me too far I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Black Dahlia returned the sickly sweet smile. “Same here, Prince Starchild.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @michicant123!

Read on AO3

*****

Gnome Sweet Gnome

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

“Nice of you to completely ignore the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself into this kind of predicament again . And besides, I’m not about to go around town and have the good people of Beacon Hills thinking that I’m some kind of a child abuser .”

Derek frowns, but begrudgingly relents to Stiles’ fretting.

As Stiles tightens his childhood snowflake scarf around the grumpy boy, he reflects upon how exactly he ended up in this situation.

An hour earlier...

“It’s going to be fine . Derek is staying behind with you--”

“ With me, Scott?” Stiles scoffs incredulously, as he flops onto his bed, paying little attention to the freshly printed research notes being crushed beneath his weight. “We both know that he’s going to be skulking around town, scaring the crap outta anyone that gives him a passing glance because he has no control over his glares.”

“Dude, you’re nuts. I’ve seen Derek be all not glare-y plenty of times, especially with you. Besides, he wanted to stay behind.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at those words, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know. Just take care of that feral wendigo as soon as you can, I’m still not over our Die Hard movie marathon being so rudely interrupted.”

Scott chuckles good naturedly, but the audio of the phone call turns patchy, breaking the warm laughter into staticy pieces.

“Hey, buddy, I think you guys are going through shitty service area.” Stiles raises his voice in an attempt to get his parting message through, “Stay safe, kick some feral wendigo ass, I’ll be-- we’ll be totally fine.”

A broken thank you and half of what Stiles assumes was going to be a loving and brotherly parting message is the last thing he hears when the line goes dead. He stares at his now silent phone, pouting childishly at the fact that him and Derek were the line of defense for Beacon Hills while Scott and the rest of his pack went off to go deal with a feral wendigo that tore its way through the neighboring town.

It drew dangerously close to Beacon Hills, but inevitably didn’t tread onto Scott’s territory. Unfortunately, the feral wendigo showed no signs in slowing its killing spree. And Scott, being the overly generous true Alpha he was, insisted upon hunting down the wendigo before any others were unnecessarily killed.

Fortunately, things in Beacon Hills were actually rather calm for once. As this thought flits across Stiles’ mind, he reaches his arm out to knock on the side of his wooden bedframe three times. He never expected to be of the superstitious type, but when you deal with the supernatural on a daily basis, it’s only natural for certain superstitions to follow.

Anyways, things in Beacon Hills are rather calm for once. College is out for Winter break, meaning that Scott and him have been participating in much needed gaming, binging, and general bro time. Albeit being back in Beacon Hills doesn’t permit much time to enjoy such things, as in between the gaming and the binging just this past week they’ve had to deal with a whole ensemble of supernatural creatures.

A bunyip with a rather terrible sense of direction, skeevy gnomes, and apparently dryads (which, honestly, Stiles shouldn’t have been all that surprised by their existence). Just to name a few.

“Who knows, maybe Derek will sniff out some havoc-wreaking, supernatural creature during his patrol.” Stiles mumbles to himself. “Just a small thing to help the time pass faster…”

The doorbell rings and Stiles sits up with a start. He looks at the time on his phone with a frown, it reads 3:24 pm. His dad is still at work, Derek is still on patrol (even if he was done or found something he would have helped himself to the graciously unlocked and slightly cracked open window and just invited himself in as usual), and Scott along with the rest of the pack were on the trail of the north-bound wendigo.

Carefully and cautiously, with years of supernaturally honed wariness, Stiles carefully peers out his window to take a surreptitious glance at whoever was on the doorstep… a kid? Before Stiles can even process what he’s looking at, the kid looks up directly at Stiles and locks eyes. Stiles stumbles backwards from the window in shock and trips over his gnome research notes that were neatly stacked on the floor.

“What the shit ?” Stiles hisses under his breath as his mind tries to make sense of the kid at the house’s doorstep. A ghoul? No, no, that doesn’t make sense, a ghoul wouldn’t politely knock. Scared child of a mysterious origin? That’s the most likely… those clothes are obnoxiously huge for such a small kid…

A young but irritated voice travels up through the cracked window, “Just open the damn door, Stiles.”

“Can’t you just use your werewolf powers to break the door dow-oh my God !?” Stiles rushes back over to the window and pulls it all the way open, he leans out and looks at the kid with disbelief, “No. Fucking. Way .”

Sure enough, standing on the front doorstep of Stiles’ home was a very displeased, ruffled, and tiny Derek Hale. There was something off-putting about seeing a young (what was he, seven!? ) child standing with crossed arms and a glare that would make anyone's skin crawl if not for the fact that the person delivering the glare was a child .

“ Yes way. Now, let me in . Unless you want your door to be accidentally turned into toothpicks.” The threats coming from such an adorable baby face, somehow made them seem simultaneously more and less intimidating.

Stiles splutters and quickly makes his way downstairs. He pulls open the front door after taking a couple steadying breaths to reveal some three odd feet of pure irritation.

“Wh-What even happened ?” Stiles quickly steps away from the doorway as the enraged child pushes his way into the Stilinski abode. “Wait a sec, are you even Derek? The Derek I know would have Nightcrawler-ed his way up into my room without a second thought… Oh crap, I’m going to die now, aren’t I?”

The child gives Stiles an unimpressed and a well-practiced glare. That alone makes the anxious feeling that was starting to creep up his spine back off quickly.

“Last time I checked, Nightcrawler teleports and werewolves do no such thing.” Derek frowns up at Stiles’ dumbstruck, and now relieved face.

“Oh thank god, you are Derek…” Stiles splutters once more as he attempts to make sense of the scene before him, “W-th-w-how…? I reiterate, what happened?”

Derek turns with a growl and starts to head up the stairs, comically stumbling on the clothes that are Derek’s size, roughly 20 years too soon. Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head in an effort to see if this was just some sort of elaborate hallucination. But young Derek is still there when he reopens his eyes. So he closes the front door and moves to follow Derek up the stairs.

“Uh...Der…?” Stiles speaks hesitantly, keeping his distance from the angry child.

“What do you think happened, Stiles?” Derek snaps as he reaches the second landing.

“I literally have no idea, hence the question. I thought you were mellowing out in your old age, guess I was wrong.” Stiles leans against the banister, “Though to be fair, you being a child might be a contributing factor to your classic Derek Hale grumpiness™. But no matter what age you are, you have a knack for being the most frustrating person I’ve ever had to deal with.”

Stiles chuckles to himself and looks up at Derek, awaiting an equally scathing remark, only to find Derek’s wide, hazel eyes focused on the ground, his small lower lip quivering just the slightest bit. Stiles is taken aback by this amount of sincerity upon Derek’s face, it’s so uncharacteristic but he can’t help but feel absolutely awful about his jabs.

“Uh…” Stiles struggles to find the words, which is par for the course when dealing with Derek in regards to anything other than snark and sarcasm.

“You’re right,” Derek’s voice is soft and so young sounding, Stiles stills at this, “I shouldn’t have expected you to just automatically know what went wrong.”

“Derek I…” But whatever moment of sincerity that managed to exist between the two of them was quickly forgotten as Derek finally returned Stiles’ earlier snark with a comment of his own.

“But I assumed that as our resident researcher and navigator of the bestiary, that you would have a grasp on exactly what could have caused this without me having to hold your hand through everything.” Derek turns and walks to Stiles’ room, calling over his shoulder, “I guess you’re growing senile in your old age.”

“H-hey! You’re older than me!” Stiles follows.

“Not right now, I’m not. As you have made sure to point out.” Derek frowns at the papers strewn about the room, “How the hell do you find anything in this mess?”

“I’ve told you before, I have a system of organized chaos, step off.”

“Right…” Derek responds dubiously. With a roll of his eyes, he goes over to Stiles’ wardrobe and starts rifling through the contents.

“Why yes, Derek. Please, help yourself to my clothes.” Stiles sorts through his recent research notes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I realize that I may not be as buff as you when you’re all regular Derek sized, but I think my clothes will still be too big for you. Unless you decide to wear a pair of my boxers as shorts…”

He hears Derek grunt in affirmative as he grabs the gnome notes that he so unceremoniously kicked out of the carefully organized pile on his floor. As he shuffles the pages together, he flips through them gently. There’s pages on gnome diets, their underground culture, how to visit them, how to appease them, et cetera.

“So I’m going to have to admit my ignorance here. Other than that thing that you know who was trying to accomplish, I have no idea why or how this is happening…” Stiles turns to look at Derek, who is now wearing a pair of Stiles’ egg printed boxers and an incredibly loose, threadbare tank top that he didn’t even realize he still had. “You’re gonna have to give me something to work with… so I can… crack this case.”

Derek blinks, no appreciation for Stiles’ joke making abilities.

“Forget you, that was hilarious. Throw me a bone.” He stops with faux consideration, “I guess I should be the one throwing you a bone though.”

At the lack of a reaction, Stiles withers and pouts, slumping against his windowsill.

“Are you done?”

Stiles nods silently.

“Okay, so I was on patrol, as we agreed.”

“Mm-hm?”

“And while I was on patrol, I…” Derek hesitates before continuing carefully. “Noticed something strange, and next thing I know, I’m suddenly in the body of my six year old self again.”

Stiles stares at Derek as he says this, his body language is strangely guarded and Stiles frowns. “I personally think you look closer to seven or eight, but that’s beside the point. Derek, that is possibly the least helpful thing you could have told me. Could you give me a place, smell, or description to work with? Literally anything helpful at all?”

“City park. Near the library.” Derek grits out the words as if the confession of that helpful information was physically painful.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Stiles stands and moves to his whiteboard, he spins it around to reveal a map of Beacon Hills. “Okay…” He pores over the map and sees that a sealed entrance to the old subway is located near the back of the library.

“Was this near the Eastern or Western part of the park?”

“Uh… east.”

“Hm…” Sure enough, the underground entrance meets up with about where Derek reticently described. He starts to mentally list the various supernatural creatures that like to make their home in the underground area. “So… why didn’t you just help yourself into my room as you usually do? You never answered.” Stiles says conversationally.

“I...I couldn’t.”

“What was that?”

“I said, I couldn’t.”

Stiles turns away from the board to gawk at Derek. “What do you mean, you couldn’t ? Derek, do you not have your werewolfiness right now?”

“No. I mean I don’t not have it. But I don’t have the fine-tuned control that my adult body does.” Derek looks down at his small palms, “If I try to use my werewolf abilities in anyway, I have no way of gauging the strength behind my actions right now.”

“Exactly how strong can a werewolf child be?” Stiles laughs weakly.

“Let me put it this way. I tried to run here on my hands and feet, because that’s usually faster for me. Rather than running, I accidentally destroyed part of the asphalt on the ground.” Derek slumps onto the ground, “I can’t control it right now.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Stiles turns back to the board and writes down a list of the underground dwelling creatures. “Did you catch a whiff of any of these before this happened to you?”

“I...might have noticed a gnome.”

“Oh man, really? I don’t want to have to deal with them again so soon.” Stiles goes over to his freshly organized pile of gnome notes, he flips through them to the sections on how to visit and appease them. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid to piss them off?”

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You haven’t given me much to work with, can you blame me?”

Derek levels him with a classic glare and stare. “I didn’t do anything to piss them off.”

“You sure you didn’t accidentally kick a gnome puppy or something? Destroy any gnome gardens?” Stiles grins, “Did you kill Gnomeo and Juliet?”

“Alright, clearly you’re not going to help. I’ll wait until everyone else is back.” Derek moves to leave the room.

“Wait wait wait, sorry. This is just… ridiculous.” Stiles flips through his notes to the visitation pages. There are illustrations of jewel toned beetles amongst the steps of how to enter a gnome’s underground city. “Hm? You know I was initially joking about stepping on gnome stuff but…” Stiles takes a closer look at the descriptions under the beetles. “Do you remember maybe accidentally stepping on this ?”

He turns the book towards Derek and points at the emerald beetle illustration. Beneath it reads the words “ used to shrink non-gnome creatures into a size that allows visitation into a gnome city, typically used for land negotiations and trading ”.

Derek’s eyes widen in recognition, but he quickly shrugs, floundering slightly, “M-maybe, I’m not sure.”

“ Dude , you should have said something sooner, Jesus.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek huffs and averts his gaze. But there’s gotta be something more to this.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Whatever, c’mon we need to get you back to the gnome-man lands, they have these ruby beetles to reverse the effect of the emerald beetles.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not having you leave the house dressed in my boxers and a tank top that looks like it’s going to fall apart any second.”

“Stiles, it doesn’t matter.”

“What, are you gonna just walk there, while holding a bag of your adult clothing? Hoping that not a single concerned citizen stops you along the way?”

“I can use the woods.” Derek speaks with finality.

“Well the entrance to Gnome Town is in the basement of the library, which you will have to walk through to reach.” Stiles crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow defiantly, “You wanna try that again?”

“I can break into the library.”

“It’s freezing outside, and there will be plenty of patrons in the library today.” Stiles moves to his closet, “Try again, buddy.”

Derek’s cheeks redden with indignation, “And what are you exactly trying to suggest?”

With a grin, Stiles pulls down a cardboard box from the top shelf of his closet. He opens it to reveal child-sized clothing. He tosses a random graphic tee at Derek’s dumbfounded face and rummages deeper into the box. He plucks his matching snowflake patterned hat and scarf from the side of the box and digs some more. He withdraws some blue striped sweats aaand… from the depths of the box he unearths a bright red and tree-patterned winter sweater.

He holds all the items aloft with a huge grin splitting his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope! Bundle up sourwolf! Don’t worry, I’ll turn away.”

Stiles lays the clothes on the bed and turns around with a smirk. He hears Derek mumbling curses under his breath, but he also hears the shifting of fabric. Stiles’ eyes rove his closet and he frowns thoughtfully. He doesn’t have any kid shoes that his father deemed important enough to keep for future use. He then recalls a pair of yellow rain boots that sat long forgotten in the garage.

Derek grits out an “I’m done” and Stiles turns around to see little Derek bundled up in his old clothing. And if he were to be asked candidly, Stiles would have said that Derek looked absolutely adorable. Thankfully no one was there to question him.

“Hey, what about the hat and scarf?”

“What about shoes ?”

“Thank you for reminding me! C’mon.” Stiles grabs the hat and scarf from his bed. He also grabs the adult Derek clothes that were carefully folded on the edge of his bed and flies down the stairs.

Derek follows and forces out a small, “Thank you. I can actually walk without tripping over myself now.”

“Aww, you’re welcome. Glad to be of service.” Stiles puts the clothes on the kitchen table and opens the door leading into the garage. Sure enough, the pair of yellow rain boots are still there under the rake and years of debris. He shakes various bug carcasses out of the boots and presents them to Derek with a flourish.

“Your shoes, my liege.”

“Shut up.” But Derek takes the shoes and pulls them on. “ Now can we go?”

“Tsk tsk, you gotta put the hat and scarf on.”

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

“Nice of you to completely ignore the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself into this kind of predicament again . And besides, I’m not about to go around town and have the good people of Beacon Hills thinking that I’m some kind of a child abuser .”

Stiles pulls on the hat and holds the scarf out to Derek. He relents and lets Stiles wind the scarf around his neck, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“There we go, that wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Whatever, can we go sometime today?”

“Yeah yeah, lemme grab my keys and wallet.” Stiles grabs those as well as a plastic bag for Derek’s clothes.

The drive across town to the library is awkward.

Stiles knows that Derek is still omitting something about his encounter earlier, and he’s pretty sure that Derek knows that he knows. He frets at a few stoplights, trying to find the right words to figure out why Derek was being so cagey about this whole encounter.

Stiles thought that they were past this pettiness, they’ve worked together for many years at this point, and he even tentatively considered them to be friends. But this evasiveness and unwillingness to be open about things was just like the early days of their… well, it wasn’t even an acquaintanceship, they barely tolerated each other.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Well I wasn’t aware that this beetle granted you mind reading powers, unless you had mind reading powers as a kid and lost that ability with age.”

“No, I mean…” Derek sighs and looks out the side window. He twists his fingers into the fabric of the sweater. “I know that I’ve been weirdly unspecific about this whole thing.”

“Ha! Yeah, you think?” Stiles scoffs.

“It’s because I wanted to make sure that you weren’t affected.”

“Affected? By a beetle that you accidentally stepped on on the other side of town?” Stiles snorts, “Derek, c’mon. I thought we were past this.”

“We are , it’s just... I didn’t step on the beetle on accident.” He trails off into whisper at the end of the sentence, but Stiles heard clear enough.

“What do you mean it wasn’t on accident?” Stiles blinks, trying to make sense of the new information, “Your super sniffer should have told you that that beetle was magical, right? You should’ve known that stepping on some random magical being would have had some sort of consequence!”

“I knew that it was something.” Derek slumps in his seat and grumbles.

“ Something ? Derek, just tell me, stop this omission bullshit.” Stiles says with irritation.

“It smelled like one of the nogitsune’s flies to me. Which worried me.” Derek huffs, “There you go.”

Stiles stills at that. Even with what Derek just said, he still notices the strange amount of apprehension around the words. “And?”

“And what else? Do you want me to tell you how it made me worried about you? How scared I was about you getting hurt again? What do you want me to say, Stiles?” Derek’s voice raises in volume and he turns towards Stiles full bodily.

Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and pulls over to park. He blinks and shakes his head, trying to process what Derek just said. He turns his head towards Derek. Derek’s face is red and blotchy, his eyes are huge and have tears beading at the corners. His lower lip is quivering as his eyebrows stay aggressively furrowed.

“Well!?” A couple of the tears escape and stream down his round cheeks.

Combined with the teary eyed child in his car and his brain’s gears finally working, Stiles is astonished by his revelation.

“Oh my god, you care about me.”

“Wh-w- YES ! I thought that was obvious!” Derek responds emphatically.

“No, you really care about me. Scott said that you wanted to stay behind, and that you’re not ‘glarey’ around me.” Stiles rests his forehead against his steering wheel, “Oh sweet Jesus.”

“Stiles, I’m so sorry.” Derek speaks carefully, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”

Derek sighs, “Now that I know, I can work on getting over you. I’d like if we could still be friends, despite this.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Stiles takes a shuddering breath, “Did I say at any moment, that I didn’t feel the same?” Derek’s eyes widen at this. Stiles continues speaking and mumbling his thoughts under his breath, “I’m going to kill Scott. There’s probably not even a real feral wendigo is there?”

He stops suddenly, and grabs the plastic bag of clothes as well as a single chocolate gold coin from his cup holder. “Nope, I’m not having this conversation with you while you look like a third grader. C’mon.”

Derek blinks as Stiles owlishly, and hastily wipes the drying tears from his face. Stiles slides out of the car and goes around to open the door for Derek. Derek hops down and meekly tugs at the edge of the sweater, Stiles locks the car and holds out his free hand. Derek looks up at Stiles and smiles tentatively.

This isn’t exactly how Stiles imagined holding hands with Derek this holiday season, but it was still nice in a strange way.

The two of them enter the library and nod at the employees at the circulation desk. Stiles guides Derek through the stacks to the back of the building to the once carefully sealed door leading to the basement. He nudges the door open with his hip after making sure there were no onlookers, and the two of them descend into the dark depths of the library.

They carefully navigate the dark and dusty stacks of the basement and find the sealed entrance to the old subway platform. Or at least that’s how it appeared, Derek and Stiles pass through the disguised archway and enter a warmly lit platform. Standing before them were four gnome guards wearing what looked like armor made out of reptilian skin seated around a small table playing some sort of card game.

The gnomes look up from the table at the sound of Stiles and Derek entering the vestibule.

"Ey wouldja look at dis, dose humans are back." The gnome seated facing them calls out.

"Aye, I see dem." Says the gnome to his left.

"Dat were one seems to 'ave used an emerald beetle. But he didn't pass through here, right?" Says the one to his right. The fourth gnome nods silently in agreement.

The first gnome stands and grins with broken teeth, "Dey prolly need demselves a ruby beetle, amiright?"

Stiles takes this moment to speak, "Yes, yes that's why we're here. It seems as though an emerald beetle wandered off, and my friend here stepped on it."

"A were shoulda been able to whiff out oneuva our beetles." The left one speaks with an incredulous tone.

"Yes, he did, but he mistook it for another kinda magic. Easy mistake to make. Now could we get one of those ruby beetles to go, or is it dine-in only?"

"Stiles..." Derek hisses under his breath, his hand tightening around Stiles' infinitesimally.

The first gnome steps around the table and waddles towards them. "Sure sure, dats an easy mistake. But mistakes come at a price..." The gnome grins and holds out an empty palm.

"Show me the beetle first."

"Show me whatcha gon' give me for da beetle."

Stiles pulls the chocolate gold coin and a pair of clear red plastic dice from his pocket, while simultaneously the gnome buries his hand into his pocket and withdraws a closed fist.

“This is so dumb.” Derek whispers to Stiles.

“Shut up .” Stiles whispers back.

The gnome to the right pipes up, “On dee count a three…”

Stiles maintains eye contact with the first gnome as the right gnome counts down, “One… two… three !”

In the leather covered palm of the gnome lay a glittering and bright red beetle. In Stiles’ hand lay the chocolate gold coin and the red dice from the Scott’s game of Aggravation that he happened to have stowed away in his pocket.

The gnome’s eyes glitter at the sight of Stiles’ offering. “Dose are some lovely lookin’ dice you’ve got dere, you sure you wanna part with such a lovely item?”

Stiles falters, but quickly nods, “Oh I know, I will miss them so much. They’re really so lovely, aren’t they, Derek?” Derek nods dumbly, “Now then, if I give you these beloved dice, and my golden coin here, will that be enough for the ruby beetle?”

The main gnome turns back to the other three and they snicker conspiratorially. “Ye, take the damned beetle. Gimme dose dice already!”

Stiles gives the gnomes a withering smile as they trade. The gnomes cackle with glee as the main gnome returns to the table with his spoils.

“Let’s get outta here, Derek…” Stiles leads the two of them back into the library basement, the echoes of the gnomes cackling and the clattering of sound of the dice upon the table follows them.

Derek steps out of the bathroom sheepishly holding the plastic bag of clothes out to Stiles. “I think my shoes should be around the back of the building still…”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me to go grab them while you were doing your beetle mumbo jumbo, presto change-o?”

Derek reflexively responds with a “Don’t call me dude.” But then he coughs awkwardly, “I… I didn’t want you too far away.”

“Aww… you’re such a sap.” Stiles takes the plastic bag from Derek’s outstretched hand, and takes the now empty hand into his opposite one.

“Let’s go get your shoes. I’m pretty sure the cafe has a no shoes, no shirt, no service policy.”

“Cafe?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not waiting a moment longer to take you out on a date. If you’ll have me of course.” Stiles hesitates for a split second as Derek’s silence draws out. “Der?”

Derek blinks, but a gentle, sincere smile works its way across his face. “Of course.”

Stiles returns the smile with a sincere one of his own. A mischievous glint enters his eyes, “By the way… did I mention what an adorable kid you made?”

“ Stiles …”

“ So cute. I should’ve taken pictures when I had the chance!”

“Nevermind, this was a terrible idea. I’m going home.”

“Wait, Derek!”

“This is a library, Stiles. Please keep your voice down.”

“ Derek… ”

“Nope. Stop following me.”

“C’mon, lemme treat you.”

“ No .”

“But baby it’s cold outside!”

“I’m done here.”

[kuningannasansa]

A musketeers rewatch (that nobody asked for) 1x07

Here we go, my least favorite episode of the whole show excluding season three which I didn’t watch! If you have even a passing fondness for Ninon, I suggest you look away :)

We start with a royal procession through the crowd and there are quite a lot of waving people there. If they can fill the streets with extras for scenes like that, why can those same extras not be used for the court scenes?

Priest whose name I have forgotten is being robbed. The musketeers rush in to help. 

Meanwhile, a crazy girl tries to get close to the queen and ends up being ran over by her carriage. If this is meant to be some Emily Davison analogy, it sucks!

The dead lunatic’s name is Therese and she wanted to give the Queen a note. Constance takes it and says “Fleur, what does this mean?” Am I supposed to take from that that she cannot read for herself? Cause a merchant’s wife definitely, definitely would know how to do that. 

Fleur is nowhere to be seen, however.

“This is an age of glorious discovery!” says Ninon. “Galileo observes the moons of Jupiter... But what is the role of women in this age of wonder?” - well, gee, i don’t know Ninon. Maybe you could have mentioned some female scientists of the era in addition to Galileo? Catherine de Parthenay, anyone? Or Marie Fouquet? Hell, Ninon de l'Enclos, my atheist queen, for whom this Ninon is doubtless named, was a notable woman in her own right! But no, we have to make women look more oppressed than they actually were to make this waste of space look more awesome. 

“My women of Paris, seek your own enlightenment!” - wrong era!

Therese, an orphan from a humble background, wanted to hand a petition to the queen about women’s education.  

“If she was an illiterate orphan she could not have written this. It is misguided but not unintelligent.” - says Richelieu. And indeed he turns out to be right. She didn’t write it. Which is fucking bizarre. 

Anne asks him if he doesn’t favor women’s education and he replies: “I admire learning wherever it is to be found, but this amounts to an attack on the authority of church and state.” Any French history buff know what the actual Richelieu’s thought of women’s education? @tatzelwyrm​? I’m gonna start a biography on him soon, but not until I’m done with this rewatch.

Ninon barges in past the guards and yells “stay out of my way, I will address the King!”. I’m sure this is meant to make her look badass, but she just comes across like a complete idiot who doesn’t understand that she would do better to follow court protocol, no matter how much she might dislike it, if she wants to achieve her goals.    

Luckily for her she’s pretty, so the king doesn’t mind.

“I want to know why this tragedy happened. If your guards are to blame I want them punished.” And then she gives Treville a dirty look! How dare you, you waste of skin and oxygen! Don’t you dare blame Treville for this mess! 

“You knew this lunatic?” - lmao, Richelieu!

Therese was the daughter of Ninon’s servant whom Ninon decided to educate. So she was educated, she COULD have written the petition herself. But she did not. Because when Richelieu says “she wrote this and was killed trying to give it to the Queen” Ninon screeches: “Don’t be ridiculous! She didn’t write it, I did!” And I mean, who exactly is looking down on servant girls here and saying it’s ridiculous to expect them to write something intelligent. It’s not Richelieu. 

But more importantly, WHY?? If Ninon wrote it, why couldn’t she hand it to the Queen? Why did this poor girl have to die? This is so, so stupid! I mean, okay, maybe Therese heard Ninon speak well of the queen and got the idea to hand her the petition on her own, without being told by Ninon to do so. But why did she have it in the first place, if it’s Ninon’s petition?

“Apparently the Comtesse de Laroque believes herself above the normal laws and conventions of society.” ´- well that’s an understatement.  

“The treasury is bankrupt and the country needs a new navy. Ninon has the wealth to provide it.” And that is why Richelieu sends Milady into the salon to find something to use against her. These two are so good in this, I love their scenes together! Pity about the rest of the episode. 

Richelieu is now freaking out about lesbians and Milady is just like “really, dude? really?”. I love her!

“Ninon must pay up or face destruction, I want every last penny from her!” - so it was not his intention to kill her, just to get the money. Interesting.

Fleur’s father is Bonacieux’s cousin. I love that, the commoners having family connections and support circles of their own.

The robbed priest is called Luca! Richelieu is “delighted to see him”, apparently, cause they’re old friends. And Louis isn’t, because he wrote a pamphlet arguing that Kings should bow down to the Pope’s authority. 

“We can’t have a comtesse abducting young women and spiriting them away to her boudoir!” - Oh, Richelieu! Do calm down.

It’s odd watching Richelieu try to use homosexuality to take Ninon down while shipping Trevilieu thou. 

Athos barges into Ninon’s salon, demanding to know where Fleur is and Milady very discreetly hides behind a pillar. Lol! 

And Ninon starts hitting on Athos immediately. She tells him that she’s often thought he’s handsome but the “melancholy aspect” to his looks is “probably only mental vacancy”. Who taught you how to flirt? Why must you be so abrasive and confrontational all the time? Like really, I get she’s meant to be a Strong Woman Who Don’t Take No Shit TM, but she just comes across like a loudmouth. 

Athos likes it thou!

“Forgive our intrusion-” “I will not forgive it!” - Jesus Ninon, it’s just a figure of speech, a polite gesture. People use these in conversation sometimes. She’s so unnecessarily rude smh.

Aramis says he “gladly acknowledges the superiority of the female sex” and I throw up in my mouth a little. That’s not feminism, that’s slimy!

D’artagnan: “If that wasn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”  Porthos: “Rubbish! She can’t stand him.”  Aramis: “One day I’ll sit down and explain women to you.” - cause we’re all the same and no means yes, right writers?

Luca: “His holiness is concerned about the direction of French foreign policy.” Richelieu: “Well the pope is Spain’s performing monkey.” - he really is so funny! I know I keep saying that, but he is!

Also, YAY politics! Intelligent dialogue! I love this scene so much!

“In matters of religion I defer to Rome, in all else I am my country’s servant” - lol, Richelieu inventing the separation of church and state

Luca: “Is this your final word on the subject?” Richelieu: “It is.” - and that right there is where Luca decides to kill him. The actor plays it really well, knowing it’s coming I can see the briefest moment of regret in his eyes, but without hindsight I wouldn’t notice anything. And he gives Richelieu the poisoned gift. 

Also, isn't it the same guy who plays Margaret’s new man in Harlots? 

Athos says that Therese and Fleur were so far below Ninon in status that they were not in a position to make choices of their own free will. Which is fuckign stupid. But Ninon saying that she views all women as equal regardless of their birth is equally moronic. I mean, sure, they should be, but in reality they’re not and ignoring that doesn’t help anyone. And Athos does point out that Ninon’s money and position gives her certain privileges, but it sits wrong coming from him and not from Porthos or Milady or Constance, who are from poor/less wealthy backgrounds. That said, this is still one of the few semi intelligent scenes in this whole episode, so whatever. At least someone said it. 

Now she kisses him and invites him to dine! And he just looks sad.

Luca tells Richelieu to “deal with” Ninon “firmly”, cause the Pope is dying and Richelieu could be the next Pope if he shows himself a strong defender of the church against “heresy”. What heresy thou? Women learning to read? Lol, that’s so cartoonishly evil and ahistorical, but whatever. This at least explains where Richelieu’s desire to have her burned came from.

Richelieu: “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a heretic.” Luca: “A woman who openly defies God's laws, what other word is there?” - what laws thou? what has she done, other than hold some salon meetings, as every other noblewoman was doing at the time?

Richelieu promises to consider his options and Luca tells him to pray to the poisoned bone for guidance, lol.

This right here is Richelieu letting personal feelings cloud his judgement, thou! Which he said he has learned no to do. But he allows himself to be carried away with visions of becoming Pope and honestly I don’t see how he can possibly believe that could happen with his foreign policy and how hated he is by the Vatican, as stated in this very scene.  

Milady and Ninon! I love that scene! Ninon clearly thinks she’s super special because she “takes the initiative” by kissing men instead of waiting to be kissed. She’s so damn smug about it! And Milady is just like “oh I could never be so bold” and I swear I can hear her laughing internally! 

And she very cleverly charms Fleur’s location out of Ninon!

Athos’s idea of a first date is the morgue. Charming.

Athos saying that Ninon is responsible for what happened to Therese because she gave a lowborn girl an education doesn’t sit well with me. Classist ass! But she is responsible for not thinking of Therese beyond how daring and adventurous and fun and positively scandalous it would be to educate a servant girl and then not bothering to care for her when she got bored. Cause if she had done, Therese could have come to her with her plan and she could have prevented her death. Because yes, regardless of her education, her background predisposed Therese to be naive about the King and Queen and how petitions work. Where was Ninon in all this, when a girl under her charge decided to do this foolish thing that cost her her life? Because if you want to be someone’s teacher you do have a duty of care. In short, Ninon is a classist ass as well! They’re perfect for each other!

So Luca’s stolen bag is in the morgue with the body of the thief who stole it. And Athos promises to send for it in the morning. I know it’s CSI: Musketeers and all, but why was it not delivered to Luca the moment it was found, lol? He’s a pretty important guest at the palace and it’s his property. 

Athos agrees with Ninon that marriage is a curse. LOL!

Ninon’s reason for not marrying is that she does not want a husband to own her wealth and body. Makes sense and that’s why many independently wealthy women chose to stay unmarried. Just pointing out the few things that make sense.

“You are a rebellious woman” - oh good, we managed to squeeze the title of the episode into the dialogue! 

Aramis just tossed a red guard out of Ninon’s house. Can’t tell if he’s dead or not, but certainly unconscious. 

There’s fighting. The red guards have swords, the musketeers have books. Athos screams “where is your authority for this!?!” - well, the Cardinal, I’d assume, since they are his guards. Oh bear of very little brain!

Fleur and some other runaway girls are found sleeping in a secret chamber and Ninon is arrested for abducting them.

Athos is all like “you said she wasn’t here” and Ninon tries to explain that Fleur did not want to be found and begs “make them stop” to which Athos replies “sorry, I can’t”, his voice and face making it very clear that he doesn’t want to. Because a woman lied to him! This is the worst crime! Really Ninon is lucky she’s being arrested right now, otherwise she’d end up swinging from a tree.

“Four young women! In their nightwear! I can only speculate as to the horrors they have endured!” - Richelieu really has a bee in his bonnet about lesbians. The days before p*rnhub must have been hard for a catholic cardinal. 

Luca is even worse thou! “Your majesty is joking but Satan is real! And his female familiars are everywhere amongst us.” Jesus christ guys, calm down! Have a wank or something!

“She had the girls, she lied, she brought her fate on herself.” - Oh shut up Athos! Not everything is about you and your relationship issues! As Aramis points out. Thank you, Aramis! And I never believed I’d ever say that.

Ninon/Aramis  > > > > > > > > > > Ninon/Athos

Aramis gives Ninon the cross Anne gave him. This is quite sweet!

“It’s not so easy when you don’t have money” Constance says and she is right. But it’s like the show is saying that the only way women can be independant is if they are independently wealthy like Ninon. But that’s not really true, Fleur could get a job such as a seamstress or pharmacist or grain merchant or actress or even as a secretary now that she knows latin and greek thanks to Ninon. Women did have jobs in 17th century France and even belonged to guilds etc. Not saying that Fleur would not be more financially secure still with a husband, but if she really doesn’t want that she has options and I don’t like how this supposed “feminist” episode constantly erases women’s actual history. 

Fleur’s father rages “what does she need an education for? She’ll be a seamstress until she’s married and then she’ll be a dutiful wife and mother.” But if he is Bonacieux’s cousin then they are in the same social class, that is to say, the merchant class. And merchant women had to keep their husbands’ shops when their husbands were away. They needed to know how to read and write and do sums. They needed this to be an attractive marriage prospect to a husband of their own social class! 

And the father wants to hit Fleur and D’artagnan all heroically threatens him. How boring!

Richelieu: “Many of our young women are educated. It’s not something we’re ashamed of.” Fleur: “Not just embroidery and sewing.”  Me: “WELL OF COURSE NOT!!!”

Then Fleur says Ninon taught them the “secrets of our bodies” and Richelieu is a hound on the scent!

“Be quiet or you’ll be gagged!” - Again Armand, this is neither the time nor the place to indulge your kinks. 

ENTER MILADY! 

She does such a brilliant job of her testimony! This is again her lying about rape and I talked about before why that is bad, but in this case I don’t mind cause it’s for state reasons and doesn’t in any way invalidate her own story the way the thing with D’artagnan does.

Athos completely LOSES HIS SHIT!! Not doing the defence any good there, buddy!

The look she gives him as she walks out is priceless!

Queen Anne to the rescue, bringing clemency from Louis! Clever girl, must have manipulated it out of him! Season 1 Anne was intelligent.

And Ninon ruins it by saying: “I have never consorted with the devil until this moment. I am looking at him.” To which Richelieu replies: “Condemned from her own mouth.” As any person with half a brain would. Jesus christ Ninon, you should have been gagged! For your own safety! 

And then Richelieu stops breathing! And we get Treville’s reaction to it, thank you camera people! Thou Treville mostly just looks confused, like “what is that drama queen doing now?” 

Now he’s twitching! And I’m sorry but it looks hilarious.

Aramis carries him to bed on his back and puts a hand over his mouth. I’m not sure that helps with the breathing issues... 

Louis pushes Aramis out of the way and cries “please don’t die! please don’t die!” aawwwwwwwwwww!

Aramis really saves his life here, huh.

Anne is briefly jealous about the cross and asks Aramis if Ninon is his lover. Lol! She never expected him to stalk her for the rest of her life, she fully expected him to keep lovers.  

Luca: “Satan turned his blood to acid at her command!” Porthos: “We’ll add Satan to the list of suspects.”

Fleur: “You think I poisoned him?” Constance: “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard even by musketeer standards.” - THANK YOU CONSTANCE!

Fleur is to be married to a 40 year old butcher. Poor girl!

“Was it you?” - LOL!

“Half the doctors say you’re doomed, the other half claim you’ll make a full recovery. There’s a lot of professional pride at stake.” - Milady is very funny too! But I’ve always known that! 

“Whatever happens to me, I want you to extract this confession from Ninon.” - translation: it doesn’t matter if I die, the main thing is that France gets that navy. For France, always. I’m amazed by how much he trusts Milady here thou.

Milady thinks the kneebone of St. Anthony is gross and “as much use as the doctors”. Bless her!

Constance very sweetly talks Fleur’s father out of forcing her to marry. Go Constance!

Ninon: “There is nothing worse than a woman who betrays her own sex” Milady: “I can think of a few things, but let’s not argue.” - THIS!! This is my favorite part of this whole miserable episode, because yes, with her background she can think of things Ninon couldn’t possibly imagine. It’s also a fuck you to that “don’t encourage girl on girl hate” line terfs and white feminists always hide behind when they get called out on their bullshit, though this wasn’t the point here. I love how she doesn’t even explain, too. Let’s not argue, cause what’s the point. You’ll never get it.

I do want to stress that Ninon is not wrong for educating other women and she has been unjustly condemned (althou I would argue that she might not have drawn Richelieu’s ire if she went about it in a more subtle, less smug way, for the safety of the girls she teaches if not for her own). But Milady is employed by the First Minister of France and is doing her job here, a job which she depends upon for her own independence and safety. As she says, Ninon didn’t do anything to her, she’s just a victim of circumstance. 

“If you don’t confess, the women of your salon will burn in your place. Surely you wish to save the lives of your accomplices in Satan?” - Milady does a good job of selling it, but if you think about it, that makes no sense. These women have already been publicly proclaimed Ninon’s victims. And if they have legal trouble with burning her alone, how would they manage a whole bunch of them, most of whom are also high ranking noblewomen?

Ninon falls for it thou. Fail!

Richelieu orders Ninon burned and Milady says that the Queen and King won’t like it. Richelieu replies that: “she’s irrelevant and a new navy will soothe his dismay.” He’s really underestimating season 1 Anne here. But season 2 will prove him right, sadly.

“The kingdom of heaven is a dream. Our only life is here.” - Go Milady!

Richelieu says he won’t burn her for heresy but to be careful cause “one day someone else might” and idk, but it comes across like pretty friendly advice, considering what he’s currently doing with Ninon. 

Now he worries he might go to hell! And Milady says he’s already there, lmaoo! I LOVE THIS SCENE!!

They go to the morgue to retrieve Luca’s bag and discover that the thief was poisoned in the same manner as the Cardinal. Thus the plot is uncovered.

“Open his mouth!” “You open his mouth!”

Luca kills a red guard and is about to kill Richelieu (who fights him with a fork!) when the musketeers burst in. And Richelieu curses them for being late!

Richelieu had apparently worked out that it was Luca who was trying to kill him at some point during the night. No idea how. 

Athos begs for Ninon’s life while the pire is already burning. And Richelieu agrees cause burning her is all very “dark ages”, like he said to begin with. He says he’s not a cruel man, just a practical one. But practicality sometimes requires cruelty. He’s not a sadist thou, that’s what he meant and that’s true. 

Athos drags Ninon off the burning pire. So the great feminist character got duped by Milady and then had to be rescued by her love interest. So good, much feminist. 

“As far as the world is concerned, Comtesse Ninon de Laroque died on that pire today.” Richelieu takes her lands, her property and her money and sends her into exile. Then he threatens to execute her if she ever tells anyone the truth of what happened.

“My voice will never be silenced, but I promise you will never hear it.” - the stupidest line of the whole episode and that’s saying something. Seriously, what does this mean? Your voice was silenced! Richelieu got your wealth which you could have used to educate more women. You were completely defeated. Like really, who is the idiot who wrote this? And what made them think this is in any way empowering or even just a satisfactory conclusion to Ninon’s acr?? Ughhhh!!

I do love Richelieu and Milady getting a rare victory thou! 

“Nothing, no person, no nation, no god will stand in my way.” - HOT!

Aramis gets his cross back lol. Otherwise it would have burned. 

Lmao, Richelieu sends Luca’s ashes to rome with a threat to the Pope.

And Capaldi pronounces “Richelieu” in a very strange way. 

Milady: “You do realise you’ll never be Pope?” Richelieu: “It’s an Italian club and largely a clerical position. I prefer something with a little more influence.” - L! O! L!

Ninon plans to open a school for poor girls and be a teacher. Well, idk, I hope she does a better job of it than she did with Therese.

Athos asks Ninon if “Madame de la Chapelle” ever told her anything about herself. And Ninon is like “so you did know her after all?” and he says “in another life” and she warns him to be careful because she has the cardinal’s protection so “a blow against her is a blow against him” and idk, does she realize that Milady was Athos’s wife here? Is that how I’m supposed to read it? He did tell her before that he used to be married.

Then she kisses him and tells him she could have loved a man like him. And she’s just way more into him than he is into her.

Lmaooo, Fleur is not forced to marry and can continue with her education and she’s “sure” that the woman who convinced her father was Ninon. And Constance doesn’t correct her and doesn’t even want the credit, but I’m mad lol, as if Ninon even remembers you exist Fleur!

D’artagnan gives Constance the credit, at least! And then comes his declaration of love, which is actually very sweet and I really liked them together in season 1! Constance is so beautiful in this scene too! It’s very well lit and she’s wearing that lovely dress!

Aaaaand we fade to black on some PG13 kissing and groping! Sorry, this was very long, but there was a lot to complain about.

In conclusion, awful! Like, the thing that bothers me the most is that this token girl power episode would not even have been radical in 1970, never mind today. The message is simply that women should have an education, which no sane person today would disagree with. It’s very safe and bland. And erases women’s real history in the process. It’s almost as if these male writers are congratulating themselves “weren’t things ever so bad Back Then, we are so much more progressive now”, instead of doing the truly radical thing and showing women’s real history, showing women in positions of power running their literary salons and not getting burned for it, showing women as independent businesswomen with an education! Why not give Bonacieux a female rival in the cloth business? Why not go deeper than “women are human beings” and give the episode a truly radical message that still resonates today. After all, we might be ever so educated now but it’s not like women have achieved equality. More on that in this old post: https://kuningannasansa.tumblr.com/post/126434697304/the-problem-of-ninon 

Anyway, I really hope the next episode will be better! 

Red Guards killed: 1 or 2, impossible to really tell

Ladies killed: Therese

Best Dressed: Ninon. She did have some pretty dresses. 

[noreasonjustbored]

You Will Never Understand My Everything

Warning- Sensitive Subject Matter Regarding Racism and Police Brutality

“Hey babe, do you know where the extra gumball tubes are?” Henry asks while walking through the door.

Charlotte jumps slightly, sniffles and wipes at the tears streaming down her face with the back of her hands. She was so focused on her phone that she didn’t hear Henry come in at all.

Plus she purposely chose to hide out in the storage room because no one really went in there. She wasn’t expecting for anyone to find her at all, especially not in such a vulnerable state.

“What’s wrong Char?” came the concerned voice of her boyfriend.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Charlotte mumbles while standing from her crisscrossed position on the floor. She eyes her shoelaces and dusts off her jeans nervously.

Henry steps further into her space, lifts her head with a finger to the chin and attempts to make eye contact. Her eyes are red and puffy.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. You’re clearly upset. What’s going on?”

“It’s personal. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

A flash of hurt flickers in Henry’s eyes and he nods. “Okay. Well if you decide that it is something, let me know.”

Henry backs up slowly and then turns to leave the room. He walks back into the Man Cave with a frown on his face. There is obviously a problem, Henry has never seen her cry in all their years of knowing each other.

He contemplates his girl’s words. I wouldn’t get it? Personal? What is that supposed to mean? I thought we told each other everything.

Ray had recently started participating in what he called Superhero Self-Care Sunday. He was currently in a full face mask with his head rested back against the edge of the couch and cucumbers over his eyes.

Henry walks over to the other side and plops down moodily.

Ray whips his head in Henry’s direction, cucumbers flying. He gives him an annoyed glare for disturbing his peace.

“Why are you being so noisy?”

“I haven’t said one word.”

“Yeah, well your teenage angst is loud.”

Henry rolls his eyes in response.

“Who peed in your cereal?”

“Eww dude. No one peed anywhere. It’s just Charlotte.”

“She finally realized that she was slumming it with you and kicked you to the curb?”

“What?! No!”

“It’s true though” Schowz gives his unsolicited opinion from his spot at the console.

“We did not break up!”

“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“I wear boxers.”

“Whatevs” Ray says while swatting the air in nonchalance.

Henry sighs. “Something is upsetting Char but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“Wait. You’re mad that your girlfriend isn’t complaining to you about all her troubles?” Ray asks incredulously.

“That doesn’t seem like an issue to me” says the shorter man while walking towards them.

“Ugh. You guys don’t understand. She was crying. When have you ever seen her do that?”

Both men looked stumped while trying to think of a single instance where Charlotte had let tears fall in front of them.

“I know! There was that one time when she cried about missing that really good sale for crop tops” Ray offered.

“That was Jasper” Henry deadpanned.

“Oh yeeeeeaaaahhh” he agrees.

“Jasper is strange” adds Schowz.

“Hm. I guess that is out of the ordinary. So what was wrong with her?”

“I don’t know! That’s the whole point.”

“Right. I forgot.”

“Did you ask what caused her sadness?” the foreigner wondered.

“Of course I did! She blew me off. Said that I wouldn’t get it.”

“Maybe she thought that you couldn’t handle it.” “She probably doesn’t trust you” the two older men say at the same time.

“You guys are no help” Henry says frustratedly while getting up from the couch and walking towards the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Ray inquires.

“Away from you” came the reply as the blonde stepped into the elevator.

“Rude” he mutters under his breath before picking up a cucumber from the table and biting into it.

Once upstairs Henry walked towards Jasper who was at the register.

“Hey Hen, how goes it?”

“Bad Jasp. It goes bad.”

“What? Why?” Jasper asks confused.

“Charlotte is going through something but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“Ok and?”

“What do you mean ‘Ok and?’ Char is keeping things from me.”

“Yeah but it sounds like she wants to work through it alone. It probably doesn’t concern you.”

“Charlotte and I always tell each other everything.”

“You guys don’t tell each other everything, that’s impossible. Look, I get that you don’t want to see her hurting.”

“Why does it sound like a but is coming?”

“But...if she has something happening that she wants to keep to herself, then you have to respect that.”

“I hate seeing her so broken up, I want to help her through whatever it is.”

“You have to understand that you aren’t entitled to her every thought and feeling just because you guys are dating. That’s bonkers.”

“I guess you’re right. When did you get so wise dude?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe it’s just my natural state of being.” Jasper responds while trying to lean his elbow against the counter.

Except he underestimates how far away the counter really is and ends up almost falling when his elbow meets air.

“Yeah, natural state of being alright.”

Henry leaves Jasper in the front and takes the tubes back down. When the tube lifts he notices that Charlotte is sitting at the couch with her forehead on the table. Schowz and Ray are nowhere to be seen.

He walks towards her and clears his throat. She glances up in surprise. “I thought you left?”

Henry sits down. “I was in the store with Jasper.”

A few agonizing seconds go by while the couple just stare at each other.

“Listen I didn’t mean...” “I just wanted to...” they start simultaneously.

Both stopping and then nervously chuckling, Charlotte jumps in, “You go.”

“I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into telling me what was wrong. I just hate seeing you so down in the dumps.”

“No, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. I didn’t mean for what I said to come out so harsh. Thank you for caring.”

“I will always care. I love you Char.”

A soft smile spreads over her face. “I love you too Hen.”

Henry leans in and presses a sweet kiss against her lips. Sucking in a deep breath, Charlotte releases it slowly.

“The reason why I was-“

“You don’t have to tell me” Henry interrupts.

“I know, I want to.”

“Okay” he nods and gives her his undivided attention.

“The reason why I was crying earlier is because I stumbled across the video of Tyrell Watkins getting shot by the police.”

“I haven’t seen it. What happened?”

“Routine traffic stop. The cop said that his car matched the description of a stolen vehicle. His daughter was also in the car, she got it all on Facebook live.

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Stolen?”

“No, the car wasn’t stolen!”

“It seems like a pretty big mistake on the officer’s part. That guy should sue when he gets out of the hospital.”

“That guy’s name is Tyrell. And he can’t sue.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead.”

“Huh?”

“Tyrell is dead. The officer killed him.”

“Oh my god.”

“The cop asked for his registration and when he went to get it, he shot him several times.”

Silent tears stream down Charlotte’s face as she struggles to get her words out. “The officer is claiming that he saw him reaching for a gun.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Char sniffs.

“The officer asked him to get something and then shot him for following directions?”

“Yep.”

“That can’t be the whole situation. We must be missing something.”

“We aren’t missing anything Henry. That’s the entire scenario.”

“Can I see the video?”

“It’s pretty graphic. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

After seeing the video Henry was seemingly more confused and upset. “I can’t believe this. What kind of half-assed training did this officer get? He needs to be fired!”

“It’s not just training Hen. If this was you or Ray, it never would have ended like this.

Henry looked up from the phone with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You would have been annoyed to have been stopped unnecessarily but you would’ve survived to complain about it later. This turned out horribly because the man was black.”

“No... I don’t think- It can’t be... I’m not sure if- You really think so?”

“I know so. The cop shot into the car with a minor in the passenger seat. She could have been shot as well! The girl is around your sister’s age. If your dad and Piper were pulled over there wouldn’t even be a video. She wouldn’t have recorded anything at all. Why does that little girl even know to film the police?”

“I’m not sure why she pulled out her phone. But I’m definitely glad that she is okay.” Henry answers while scratching his head.

“Because as black people we know that we are disproportionately targeted by the police. We know that recording is the only way to hold them accountable. We also know that even with the evidence of misconduct, officers still literally get away with murder!”

“I-“ Henry starts.

Charlotte stands abruptly. “And another thing! The daughter may be okay physically but she is mentally traumatized. Not only will she never see her father again, she watched him get killed right in front of her. She is forever scarred!”

“Did you know him?”

“No. I didn’t know him personally. But I didn’t have to know him to know that he didn’t deserve to die.” Charlotte slumps back into her seat.

Observing his girlfriend, it seemed as if she was weary down to her bones. Like the sorrow she felt went down to her very core. Like she was defeated.

Lost for words and recognizing that he didn’t have a way to make it all better, Henry wrapped his arms around Charlotte in a tight, comforting hug.

He wanted to communicate how much he wished that the world they lived in wasn’t so filled with hate. How he knows that he can never truly comprehend what it means to be Black in a White world. How he was so angry that this was the reality she faced.

But that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix systematic racism. It wouldn’t bring Tyrell Watkins back to life.

So all he could do at this moment was show her that he loved her and that he would always be there for her.

She sighed and closed her eyes as she rested her cheek against his chest.

“We will never be unarmed when our skin color is seen as a weapon” she whispers.

[florafey]

Malogranatum - Part 2

Chasing Freedom

Three hours passed since Hades and Persephone exchanged first glances and the party was not slowing down. If anything, it had just reached full swing. Sometime recently Zeus had thrown open the doors of the ballroom and encouraged his guests onto the sprawling grounds underneath a dark, star-speckled sky. The weather was fair enough, tainted only by a breeze that made the goddess squeal and wish they had worn less sheer dresses. Nike had swept Persephone from her perch on the base of the statue and, with Athena and Aphrodite in tow, had given Persephone her first glance of the grounds of Mount Olympus. Of course she had seen them before as a child, but never like this. Never as a guest, never from Zeus and Hera’s home.

It was breathtaking. The vast lawn spread out like a goddess’s fan, bejewelled with flowers and elegantly carved statues. A low stone wall marked the edge, and the mountains in the distance were visible beyond it, giving the impression that you were about to topple off the edge of the world. Some brave deities were seated on the wall, swinging their feet and enjoying the view. 

Others were lounging on the low furniture set into the stone pathways but most others were being more liberal and rolling on the grass, chasing and tackling each other with such energy that Persephone immediately identified them as the younger gods and goddesses. And wanted to join in. She delighted in a good chase; she had had tons of practice running from Hermes, her nymphs, her mother, and was a quick little thing when she wanted to be.

Nike slipped away to steal more wine from Dionysus, who was currently prancing around a raging bonfire on the far side of the lawn. Her spot was soon filled with a soaking wet Hermes and it was only then that Persephone noticed the long, rippling pool of water set into the grass to her left. Athena squealed when Hermes lunged for her and caught her in his arms, sending water droplets cascading onto her silk dress and impeccable hair.

“Hermes!” She cried disdainfully. “Persephone, make him stop!” Persephone made a half-hearted scolding noise and managed to yank Hermes off Athena before he could make her truly grumpy.

“If I wanted to get wet, I would have stayed with Helios,” Athena sniffed, flicking her damp hair over her shoulder. Hermes made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh, don’t be dull, Athena, we should go swimming.” Aphrodite stood on her toes to better see the pool and who was around it. “Is that- oh there’s Ares! I haven’t seen him in hours!” She nudged around Hermes and set off towards the god that was never without his entourage of giggling, blushing goddesses. Halfway to the edge of the pool, she turned over her shoulder and shouted, “Come on, Honey!”

Persephone smirked at the nickname bestowed upon her by some of the older goddess. “I’ll protect you if you wish to stay dry,” she nudged Athena playfully and pulled her along as she followed Aphrodite’s path to the water. But Athena quickly found that it was no fun staying on the grass when most everybody else was wading and swimming and she soon joined in. The gods stripped to their pants to swim while some of the goddesses wriggled out of their dresses and some decided they didn’t mind if their clothes got wet. Nike and Aphrodite were more than happy to remove their dresses and as comfortable as Persephone was with herself, she doubted the night would end pleasantly if Demeter happened to see her treasured daughter swimming in a pool of half-naked men and women while clad only in her silk underthings. She doubted the night would end well as it was; she had stayed for far longer than Demeter had intended and she may have been purposefully avoiding her mother for the last three- or four- hours.

So Persephone’s dress stayed on. She waded up to her knees, knowing she would get scolded for the wet silk, and didn’t shy away from splashing the others when they showed interest in playing, knowing she would get scolded for her wet hair. But if she was already in trouble, why wouldn’t she get into a little more trouble and make a good night even better?

Eris appeared with food and it was only for her provisions that the deities ceased their splashing and jumping and screaming.

“Like a pack of children, all of you,” Eris dropped a wink at Persephone and offered her a leg of lamb. The meat was tender and sweet and quelled Persephone’s hunger until a tipsy Apollo grabbed her around the waist to keep her still while he lent down and nearly finished it all off with three bites. Eris tilted her head back and cried with laughter at Persephone’s shocked face.

“Children and brutes, perhaps,” she corrected, wiping the tears from her eyes and handing Persephone another piece of meat. The young goddess gladly bit into the lamb and quirked her lips up. “This is why I much prefer the company of pretty women than curly-haired men,” she mused to Eris, knowing Apollo could overhear perfectly well. His own curls were damp and chestnut brown from the water. She squealed when Apollo shoved her, nearly causing her to topple over. Eris snatched the food from Persephone’s hand as the goddess launched herself at Apollo in retaliation. The god boomed with laughter as the small goddess collided with his chest and stuck, her arms and legs wrapping around his torso like a baby monkey to his mother.

She had intended to knock him under the water, her dress be damned, but the force of her body had not done the job. Persephone huffed with annoyance and slapped away the arms that rose to keep her around his waist. Instead she dropped down to her feet and leveled Apollo with narrowed eyes. “You’re quite rude, Apollo.”

“Of course.” The snarky god sketched a bow.

“And insufferable, too.”

That earned her a smirk. “I suppose I would only prove your point if I asked you to take your dress off and join me for a swim.”

Before Persephone could respond, an apple hit Apollo in the head and landed with a splash in the water. Nike, from behind the pair, yelled, “Yes!” in response to Apollo’s question. Persephone giggled and snatched the apple to toss it back to her friend with a quiet wink.

The pointless games continued. Laughter broke out constantly as friends and strangers splashed and tickled and pulled each under the cool, clear water. Competitions were quickly started, especially among the gods eager to show off in front of the goddesses. It was eventually agreed that Ares was the most proficient swimmer out of them all, along with the fact that none of them were to challenge Poseidon. The High God, while older than most, still showed his youthful side now and then at Zeus’ parties. Poseidon was known to take part in competitions- but only the ones involving his own domain.

But the party-goers eventually tired of the games and of the water. Persephone had hauled herself up to sit on the rim of the pool with her feet tapping the surface of the water, her silk dress pulled up to her knees and spread behind her with the hopes of it drying before Demeter was any wiser. Beside her sat Dionysus, whom had been disallowed into the water to his state of inebriation.

“Let’s play a different game!” Artemis called. She had recently come from inside where most of the older deities had remained. The grand doors were still thrown open and the warm light from the ballroom cascaded onto the green lawn. During the rare moments when the deities outside were quiet enough, the rumble of conversation and music could be heard from the pool.

“As long as I don’t have to watch Ares win,” Apollo grumbled, running his fingers through his sopping curls. Ares smacked Apollo’s ass with an unnecessarily heavy hand which only made Apollo turn around to aim for Ares’ face. Nike was between them before either one could make any rash decisions, putting her hands on their chests and saying to Artemis, “Yes, a different game might be preferred. What do you propose?”

Artemis shrugged. “Oh, it doesn't matter to me.”

“Let’s put on a play!” Dionysus called, eliciting groans from those around him. Hermes groaned the loudest and Dio reached around Persephone to flip him off.

“How about a chase?” Persephone offered. “We can make teams, or participate individually if some of us,” she glanced meaningfully at Ares and Apollo, “can’t get along.”

Ares smirked at her from the water. But Nike was on her feet, excitedly bouncing up and down. “Yes, yes, a chase! Wonderful idea, Honey!”

Athena pulled herself from the water and wrung her hair out, sending droplets pouring onto the grass. “I’ve always enjoyed the Shadow Game myself. That’s a chase enough for anyone, I should say. Except for maybe Nike.” The goddess in question winked at Athena. “The Shadow Game,” she explained to Persephone, “is common enough among the younger deities. We play it on nights like this when the older ones are gossiping and having their idea of fun while the rest of us are too drunk to play anything sophisticated but still aren’t ready to go home.” Nike shrugged. “It’s simple. Easy to play.”

“How do you play?” Persephone asked.

“Like she said. Easy.” Aphrodite climbed out of the water behind Apollo and donned her dress once more. “A single person is chosen to be Mortal while everyone else is a Shadow. Boundaries must be set before the game starts and they can be as large or small as is agreed upon. But all the Shadows must start at one boundary line with the Mortal in the exact middle. Once the signal is given to start, the Shadows must race to the other boundary line while the Mortal tries to catch as many Shadows as possible.”

“It gets tricky when entire properties get included,” Eris added. “And, if we have enough players, there can be more than one Mortal at a time.” She shrugged, a grin tugging at her full lips. “Makes it that much more exciting.”

Persephone’s brow arched. Sounded perfectly intriguing. “I suppose whoever makes it to the opposite boundary line without getting caught wins.”

Nike nodded. “Just what they win is always up for discussion, though. I distinctly remember a few Midsummers ago Aphrodite managed to sneak around Eris and win.” She shrugged. “Hermes had said he would steal Hera’s opal vase for whoever won, but,” she cast a glance towards the open ballroom doors, “as far as I can tell, it’s still there.”

Hermes waved her comment off. “Now, now, I never said when-”

“Are we going to play or what?” Ares was the last to emerge from the water, his dark skin dripping wet and causing Aphrodite to look quickly away. Persephone stood and let her semi-wet dress swish around her feet. She supposed her mother would notice it after all and, with her hair still hanging in damp ringlets down her back, there was a fair chance Demeter would give her a sound scolding. But she didn’t let her mood darken. There was a game to be played.

“Who will be playing? Hands, hands.” Nike lifted her fingers and did a cursory count of the deities that had raised their hands to show participation. She clapped gleefully when she saw how many wanted to be included. “Perfect. Now, who shall be Mortal? Any volunteers?”

Apollo shoved Hermes forward but the messenger god was quick to swat Apollo’s hands away and duck out of Nike’s line of sight before he was picked out. Nike huffed and cocked a hip out dramatically. “Oh, come on. Don’t be sissies.” In that moment she reminded Persephone of Aphrodite.

In the end, three Mortals were chosen due to the amount of Shadows they would have. Eris, Artemis, and Nike herself. The boundaries were set: the far edge of Zeus’ grounds marked one side, and the opposite side was placed through the grand palace and out on the front stretch of lawn near the entrance. It would be a long and arduous game but Persephone was not deferred. If anything, it caused her to want to win even more. Her lack of experience would put her at a disadvantage but she had speed and sheer will on her side.

And at least she wasn’t drunk. Dionysus had insisted on participating but he hadn’t been able to stand straight up for a few hours now and Persephone was interested to see how well he fared on the playing grounds.

Eris herded her fellow Mortals around her, and Artemis set about plotting their strategy for the precious few minutes the rules allowed them. But Artemis was not the goddess of the hunt for nothing. From Persephone’s side, Athena whispered something about being at a disadvantage.

Ares was quick to remind the three when their time was up, and the Mortals broke off and dispersed to hold their strategic placements. Eris remained smack in the middle of the back lawn, facing the Shadows as they lined up against the far boundary. Nike slipped into the glowing ballroom to filter out anyone who got past Eris, and Artemis looped around the side of the palace to halt anyone lucky- or skilled- enough to get through the ballroom and onto the front lawn.

When Artemis and Nike signaled they were ready, Apollo lifted two fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp, clear whistle that marked the beginning of the game.

Deities scattered haphazardly, some running straight for Eris while others dodged and swerved around the outsides, and others still used each other as shields when Eris got too close. Persephone watched Hermes shamelessly shove Aphrodite into Eris’ path, scampering away with a cackle of childish glee. Aphrodite swore and barely managed to avoid Eris’ outstretched hand. She hauled her skirts up to her knee and raced after Hermes, cursing him the entire way.

Persephone laughed quietly to herself and tried to remember to keep an eye on her surroundings. She wasn’t the best at staying focused; any passing movement or light always caught her eye and distracted her from the more important things at hand. But she was able to stay alert enough to scatter away with the rest of the deities when Eris plunged into the middle of the group.

With Eris momentarily distracted, Persephone lifted her dress with one hand and darted into the darkness, closer to the palace. She felt better with Eris at her back. From behind her, she heard the dismayed cry of a female deity being tagged, followed by the uproarious laughter belonging to none other than Dionysus. Persephone giggled again and laughed even harder when she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Dionysus get tagged.

Up ahead of her was Hermes and Athena. Aphrodite hadn’t yet managed to get past Eris and she was running out of time if she wanted to do so with as many distractions as possible. Apollo had already disappeared inside the ballroom where Nike awaited. Persephone could not see Ares anywhere but she knew better than to think he had already gotten tagged. She allowed herself to slow her pace to conserve energy. Eris was still behind her, picking off the stragglers that hadn’t yet attempted to dash for the ballroom.

The stretch of yard separating the far boundary and the ballroom was long and slightly uphill. Persephone’s breath was coming in quick, short pants by the time she reached the open doors and crept inside.

The ballroom had emptied significantly since Zeus had thrown open the doors to the grounds, and the sheer vastness of the room hit Persephone like a slap in the face. She felt impossibly small as she entered, scanning the thin crowd for Nike’s slash of blonde hair. She spotted her mother who was now seated next to Hera near the front of the ballroom. Zeus was standing a few strides away, deep in conversation with his two brothers. The sight of Poseidon made Persephone laugh as she thought of Ares and the swimming competitions. But the sight again of Hades had her smile freezing and her eyes widening.

From her left, came a polite cough. She spun to see Nike leaning casually against one of the enormous marble pillars, an eyebrow arched into the air and her mouth twisted with a playful smirk. Persephone smiled, a thrill running down her spine, and slowly began to back away.

A little voice in the back of her head warned her about her mother’s presence and what Demeter might react if she caught sight of Persephone participating in such games. She supposed Hera had been the reason for Demeter staying so long; it was a rare honor when the Queen of the goddesses wanted your company for the entire night. But Persephone decided not to listen to the warning voice when Nike said, “You made it farther than I thought you would.”

“I know,” Persephone shrugged, making Nike’s smirk turn into a grin. “I believe I could outrun Hermes if he ever had the balls to race me.”

At that, Nike threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t let your mother catch you using that language, little goddess. And don’t let Hermes hear you saying things like that.” Nike wagged a finger and prowled closer. “You might find yourself in a spot of trouble.”

Persephone matched Nike’s forward steps with backwards ones. She was aware of a second marble pillar rising up behind her so she angled away from it. “Oh, I think I might go tell Hermes exactly that. Once I tell him I outran you and Aphrodite, that is.” She was talking large and Nike knew it. A feral gleam shimmered in her eyes as she lowered her finger and halted her movements. Persephone, too, halted.

They waited, watching each other for the slightest of motions that would set them both off racing- one for safety and the other for a fistful of silk material- both trying not to smile. Then, there- a twitch of Nike’s shoulder- and Persephone turned and fled on winged feet, flying across the marble floor.

It was not uncommon for deities to play such games during a party or celebration, so the gods and goddesses that Persephone raced past barely raised an eyebrow. The paranoid voice in her mind chanted Don’t look at your mother don’t look at your mother don’t look at your mother and for once, Persephone heeded. Shapes and colors became blurred in a panoramic swath as she sprinted towards the front doors across the large floor. Nike was giggling, just a few steps behind, and despite being short of breath, Persephone couldn’t help but laugh as well.

This was fun. She wished she had a better word for it but she did not. Fun. Careless, youthful, slightly mischievous, largely unreasonable fun. Persephone knew then that she would fight and claw for even the slightest scrap of what she was experiencing.

There was no chance that Demeter had not spotted Nike chasing her daughter. Practically everyone left in the ballroom was aware of the game underfoot; some older deities had even taken seats and started watching with interest. The younger gods and goddesses were frequently the night’s entertainment during parties like this one. The forefront of the ballroom was to Persephone’s left- where she could see Hera and her mother, as well as the three brothers slightly closer to the front doors.

She felt a hand close around her elbow in the split second her attention was elsewhere. She jerked, heart thumping, thinking it was Nike, but the skin was a shade too dark and the nails were painted an astonishing shade of gold. Athena.

The goddess pulled Persephone along with her until the two of them were far enough away from Nike that they could safely split off in hopes of losing their pursuer due to the other. Persephone veered right as Athena swerved left. A quick glance over her shoulder told Persephone that Nike had chosen Athena to follow, most likely due to the fact that Athena’s energy was flagging and Persephone was naturally much quicker.

She took a hiding spot behind a pillar and attempted to catch her breath. Athena was running directly towards the forefront of the ballroom, where both Hera and Demeter had paused their conversation to watch. Hera was observing with a hint of maternal amusement as though Nike and Athena were her own daughters she was watching play. Demeter looked slightly baffled- and more than a little relieved that her own daughter was not amongst the rowdy, young deities. So she hadn’t seen after all.

Hermes streaked past Persephone’s pillar and was out the doors in a flash. Seconds passed before Apollo, coming from the opposite direction, followed. Persephone was close enough to the front doors that it was possible to reach them if she made a run for it but her throat was burning, her legs were heavy, and she was hesitant to run for the front lawn when she was in such bad condition. Especially when she didn’t know where Artemis was. Since she was currently safe from behind her pillar, she decided to give herself another moment to catch her breath.

Her damp dress clung to her as she leaned back against the marble and tried to steady her breathing. She could hear the noises of the game around her: Ares darting around pillars in an attempt to avoid Nike’s line of vision, Athena squealing when she ran herself into a dead end and barely avoided Nike’s outstretched hand, the whispering and laughing of the older deities as they took amusement in the playfulness.

“Persephone, watch out!”  She spun away from the pillar when Ares cried his warning. Eris had come in from the back lawn and had been creeping around the side of the pillar in hopes to sneak up on her- she would have succeeded if Ares hadn’t seen and called out.

Eris swore at Ares as Persephone dashed away like a frightened deer and quickly out-strode the smaller goddess. Ares’ laugh boomed through the ballroom. He was through the front doors just a second later. Nike and Athena were still playing their game of cat-and-mouse by Hera and Demeter, but Demeter’s attention was fixed on her daughter whom she had just spotted.

Persephone internally cursed Ares. He had saved her skin, yes, but in doing so had also exposed her to her mother. She reminded herself not to care. Think of how much fun you’re having. So what if mother knows?

Eris flanked Persephone’s right, forcing her to swerve left towards the front of the ballroom. A final row of pillars separated them from the daises the elder and more esteemed deities occupied for formal business. Zeus had since halted his conversation with his two brothers, and when Persephone swung around the pillar and pressed her back against it, hiding from Eris, she found herself locking eyes with him.

His eyes were cold blue, much like Poseidon’s, and full of paternal warmth that covered Persephone with a veil of confidence unfamiliar to her. If Zeus could chuckle at her running around in is ballroom clad in a damp dress, how angry could her mother really be? Poseidon had turned to better watch Eris and Persephone, a fact that didn’t fail to impress itself on the latter goddess. And, despite standing nearly thirty meters away, she could feel the weight of Hades’ gaze much like she had earlier that night. Identical, in fact.

She forced herself to focus on the game she was playing. She had successfully made it this far and she would never forgive herself if she lost because of her inability to focus due to someone looking at her. The fact that the someone was incredibly good looking and more than a little frightening and still watching her was against the point, she told herself.

The point was that she had lost Eris. Or it appeared that way. Eris was crafty and had played this game before. She could be hiding in wait for Persephone to make her move or she could be seconds from pouncing. Either way, Persephone only had one way to find out.

With her back pressed firmly against the cold marble, she edged around the left side and slowly peaked around the corner. A barren marble floor greeted her. That was to Persephone’s advantage if she wanted to avoid getting tagged, but the front doors were around the other side of the pillar. If Eris wanted to cut off her escape route, that would be the place to be. And Eris was smart- very smart. Her heart pounding, a smile rising, Persephone eased her way back to the direct middle. Demeter’s eyes were on her, cold and furious, but Persephone didn’t respond. I’m going to get in trouble one way or the other. I might as well win this damn game before I get scolded. Make some memories while I’m at it.

She went to edge her way around the right side of the pillar- but froze suddenly. Hades had just done the strangest thing. Nearly imperceptible, but it was as if he knew Persephone had been watching him from the corner of her eye. The smallest shake of his head- just once- so slight it was almost a dip of his chin. But Persephone had seen it, and froze.

Was he...helping her?

The thought was so strange and so sudden that it halted Persephone for a moment longer. She watched as Hades took in her shock and slowly curled the corner of his lip up in response. She noticed his hair was no longer neatly combed back as it had been a few hours ago. The dark strands curled awry, looking for all the world like he had just dragged his fingers through them. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned now and she could see the sweeping arches of dark ink rising up to wind around his collarbone.  

Okay, idiot, are we done? Can we get back to the more important matter at hand or are we going to lose because you want to act like you’ve never seen someone mildly attractive? Persephone hated her inner voice sometimes.

But some strange part of her gut was telling her to trust Hades. She didn’t move closer to the doors. Seconds ticked by, slow and brimming with anticipation. Across the ballroom where Nike was still chasing Athena, Persephone could hear shrieks and laughter and finally a cry of defeat as Nike triumphed.

Then it happened again. Hades tilted his head to the left, his dark eyes gliding slowly at something just over Persephone’s left shoulder. Eris was on the move. Persephone took the hint. As softly as she could, she gracefully edged around the curved pillar towards the doors. She would eventually have to break away from the safety of the marble structure and brave the vast stretch of open floor, but first she would have to decide when Eris was in the best position to allow her to escape. It would be impossible to know for certain. But she had trusted her help this far and was still safely hidden away, so Persephone figured she could risk it for a third time.

She halted her movements when she got to the edge of the pillar, where she froze, her heart pounding in her mouth. She wanted to laugh, to run, to jump with excitement, and she desperately needed to get out of Hades’ sight so she could finally allow herself to absorb what was currently happening.

With her eyes fixed on the God of the Underworld, Persephone did not miss his next motion. It was just as discreet as all the others, evading the notice of Poseidon but not Zeus, who was watching his brother with obvious amusement. Its meaning was perfectly clear. He sent a sharp nod towards the front doors and raised his wine glass to his lips. Go ahead, now. Run.

Persephone bolted. Her silk dress had somewhat managed to dry off and it flew behind her in pink ripples as she raced towards the lawn on strong legs and nimble feet. Eris was on her heels in a flash, swearing loudly at Persephone in her confusion as to how she had managed to get away. Persephone’s laugh fluttered over her shoulder, reaching all the way to Demeter and Hera. Athena’s cry of encouragement was the last thing Persephone heard before she cleared the doors and her feet met the cold grass of the front lawn. Her eyes immediately found Ares, busy dodging and ducking a hard-working Artemis, and Apollo, already across the boundary that marked her freedom.

Eris was still after her, as was Nike, who had abandoned the ballroom to better help her fellow Mortals with the particularly feisty Shadow they had on their hands.

“Run, Persephone!” Apollo shouted. He waved her closer, his bronze arms outstretched. “Come on! Come here!” She ran as though hellhounds were on her heels, her feet skipping over the grass, barely feeling the chill. Her arms pumped and her lungs burned but she was having fun and she had never been more willing to be in discomfort.

Twenty yards separated her from Apollo. She caught sight of Nike closing in on her left and Eris quickly appeared on her right, pinning her in. Somewhere behind her came Athena’s shout of, “Move, Honey, move!” and Persephone knew that she would not be the only deity who had stepped out of the ballroom to watch. It was like she had recently learned: they were entertainment to the older ones.

Ten yards left and still Persephone flew. Artemis was by now far out of reach, still struggling with Ares, but Nike had grown far too close for comfort. She had two options: move right and into Eris’ waiting arms, or run faster into Apollo’s.

Five yards. Persephone squealed with panic as Eris lunged for her but she was across the boundary line in a flash of color and Eris’ hand fell short. Apollo cheered loudly and caught Persephone, sweeping her up and spinning her around until she heard the cheers and laughter of Athena and Aphrodite who were now racing towards her from the palace. Apollo set her on her feet and let her catch her breath. Persephone’s heart was racing almost painfully and her legs felt ready to give out if she tried to take one more step. She turned to see Artemis feint left and finally tag an exhausted Ares. He swore at her, stumbling away, but she only laughed and let him go.

Nike had her arms crossed and a hip jutted out, her lips pouting at Persephone when she turned. “Since when were you allowed to be that fast?” she wanted to know. “Who told you that was okay? Have you been taking lessons with Hermes? Is that it? Hmmm?” Persephone laughed breathlessly as Nike ran at her and seized her around the waist. They spun a few turns until, both too tired to remain upright, they overbalanced and fell to the grass.

Nike’s long fingers found Persephone’s ribs and dug in, making the younger goddess shriek with laughter and wriggle desperately to get away.

“Alright, alright, let her breath for the first time in twenty minutes.” Ares pulled Nike off and smiled down at Persephone. Her curly hair had fallen out of its updo long before the chase had begun and by now it was sticking to the back of her neck with sweat. The night breeze helped cool her warm skin.

“We were all expecting Apollo to win because he always does, but it’s been a long while since we had someone new manage to make it past me,” Eris said. Instead of extending a hand to help Persephone up, she flopped down on the grass next to her. “Occasionally Hermes will win. Dio isn’t too slow himself when he’s sober, but…” she shrugged elegantly and winked at Persephone. “Not too bad, little goddess. Not too bad.”

“Why, thank you, beautiful one.” Persephone sketched a bow as best she could while remaining seated. “I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”

“You’ve been missing out, I’m afraid. Midsummer is always this much fun.” Artemis plopped down next to Eris and stretched her caramel brown legs out in front of her. “We rarely get together like this, you know, so when we do…” her eyes twinkled, “we try to make the most out of it.”

“You can’t go anywhere, Persephone, now that we know how exciting you are,” Apollo said. He and Ares crouched down to be eye level with the goddesses. “We would miss you too much.”

“Oh, please come back next year! You have to!” Athena cried. Her and Aphrodite had just reached their small group and they had only heard Apollo’s words.

“I don’t have any intention of not returning, believe me,” Persephone laughed.

“Good.” Athena sat with her shoulder against Persephone’s. “Because if you did, we would have to come steal you away and make sure you were happy.”

They laughed together at that. The kind words resounded in Persephone’s heart and it was then that she knew the word she was looking for: love. Not eros, love of the body, but philia, love of the mind. Persephone felt herself starting to slowly fall in love with each of the deities that had been so kind to her over the course of the night. She didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

“Your mother is watching,” Apollo whispered. Every head lifted to see Demeter standing in the doorway, framed by golden light, a hand on her hip and her eyes directed at the circle of young deities on the grass. They were far enough away that they could barely make out the hard line Demeter’s mouth was pressed into. Disappointment, a hint of anger, and yes, worry. Persephone mentally added grass-stains to the list of things she would be in trouble for. But when Hera glid elegantly outside on Zeus’ arm, Persephone felt a breath of relief. Demeter would hold her tongue in Hera’s presence. Even from the lawn, Persephone could hear Hera call Demeter’s name with excitement, along with something that sounded like “Where did you go off to?” She left her husband’s arm to reunite at Demeter’s side.

And it was only when Zeus smiled at his wife and moved towards two other figures framed by light that Persephone noticed who, other than her mother, had also decided watching the tail end of the chase was more exciting than anything happening inside.

Poseidon stood leaning against a small stone statue, laughing at something Hades had dryly remarked. Hades had been focused on the figures seated on the lawn but had shifted his gaze to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at his tipsy younger brother.

Persephone’s heart stuttered violently. She hadn’t given it a second of conscious thought- she hadn’t had the time to- but she realized she still didn’t know what Hades’ voice sounded like. But now that she realized she was ignorant, it was as if she had been wondering over it for days and days. She jerked out of her daze when Nike sighed dramatically and rose to her feet.

“I need another drink,” she announced. “If, that is, Dionysus has left some for the rest of us. Come,” she extended a hand and help Eris to her feet, who in turn reached down to help Persephone, “all this talk of Persephone leaving is ruining my mood. The night is still young. We have hours left together. Let us leave it at that.”

Aphrodite murmured her agreement. When the group of friends were on their feet, they began the trek back up to the palace where the golden light beckoned them. And with it came the possibility of new mountains to climb, new thresholds to pass over, new voices to hear for the first time.

[poeedamerons]

me, I will fall in love with you every single day

Day : Future Fic - Read it at AO3 

When Michael wakes up, he is alone in a bright room. He blinks his eyes several times, trying to adjust to the light, hearing beeping and whirring sounds echo around him. His body feels heavy and sore in ways he never experienced before. His ribs and chest ache.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the lights, he realizes he is in a sterile hospital room and the beeping is coming from the heart monitor beside his bed. There's an IV drip connected to the back of his hand, pumping some kind of transparent liquid into him. The room smells like antiseptic, his mouth tastes bitter and his head is throbbing with a headache (the kind that usually followed in the morning after a heavy night before). The fabric of the nightshirt is soft against his skin. He has no idea how he got here in first place. He tries to get up, but his body doesn't budge. Black dots blur his eyesight and he regret his action instantly.

Getting up proves to be a bigger hardship than he imagined, so he settles for craning his neck to the side, searching for where the IV’d arm rests. He tries to wiggle his fingers, and after, his feet. Everything seems to work just fine, and he is glad for that. Feeling a little bit more adventurous - as if he has anything else to do - he slowly raises his arm, careful of the IV lines, and checks out the printed letters on the bracelet.

Michael Guerin.

So that’s his name, he thinks. Michael. It feels strange to have to read his own name from a wrist band, but worse yet is the realization that he doesn’t quite remember a single thing before waking up. But his train of thought is interrupted by a tall man entering the room with a white foam cup in his hands.

The man is attractive, with soft-looking brown eyes, tanned skin and the most beautiful smile that Michael has ever seen. His heart flutters a little at the sight. And what a sight, his mind adds as he notice the uniform the man is wearing.

“You’re finally awake,” his voice is smooth, exuding comfort, but there is a tired edge to it. He doesn't know that voice, but he wants to. The man’s eyes are bright with happiness as he makes his way towards the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Michael's head is pounding, but it seems irrelevant because he's utterly awe-struck by the man in front of him: he's completely transfixed. He thinks he has never seen someone so beautiful in his whole life and Michael has no idea what he is doing in his room.

“I think I know you,” the words fly out of his mouth before he can think about it and a crease forms in the other man’s face, his eyes aren’t so soft anymore. He wants to take them back immediately, that man should only ever smile.

He - Michael decides he's going to call tall, dark and gorgeous 'Handsome' until he somehow manages to get a proper name - bites his lower lip and Michael's overcome with the urge to reach out and ease it free, kiss the sting of teeth better.

“Michael,” the way his name rolls off Handsome's tongue is sinful, even if Michael can hear the worry and tenderness in his tone.He wants to hear his name from this man for the rest of his life. “Do you remember why you’re here?” Handsome asks calmly, walking the final paces to stand beside the bed.

He is even more good looking up close. Michael can see the glow of his sun kissed skin and the deep pink tint of the man’s lips. He is an Adonis come to life, and Michael wonders if he still dreaming.

“No,” the answer slips his lips quickly, too perplexed to form longer sentences. The man looks at him patiently waiting if more words will come out. A few moments pass, and when Michael doesn't say anything else the man laughs, amused at something Michael isn’t aware of.

“You’re still the same though,” mirth clear in his eyes. Good, Michael thinks. “I’ll call for someone.”

“Why?” Michael’ knits his eyebrows, he doesn’t want anyone. He is just fine with tall, dark and handsome. The man’s hands reach for his, squeezing them lightly. His hands are warm and soft.

“Cause it looks like you're experiencing some kind of amnesia”. While that explains why he can’t remember anything, the anxiety in Handsome’s voice is unmistakable.

Handsome reaches for the red button above Michael’s bed, a beeping noise sounds down the corridor. He takes a seat on the chair beside Michael’s bed and that’s when Michael notices the blanket thrown over it.

“Did you sleep here?” He screws up his face trying to remember, but everything is still fuzzy. Hurt. Confusion. Pain. It's briefly blinding, the sudden stabbing through his head as he tries to think past it, trying to remember what happened and it steals Michael's breath, catching inwards on a whimper. The movement feels like an ice-pick through his skull and for a moment he can't breathe. The noise has Handsome quickly reaching up to him. His unoccupied hand massages Michael’s temple soothingly. Michael moans softly as the pain begins to dissipate, slowly, under the gentle, surprisingly knowing touch from Handsome, who snorts at him.

“Oh, I'm gonna enjoy hanging this over your head for the rest of your life,” his lips curl into a smirk before his sips the cup in his hands. “And yes, to answer your question, I did sleep here.”

“Why?” Michael asks. The man puts the cup on the small table beside him, the one with a book and two cellphones on it. He wipes at Michael’s cheek with his thumb, Michael instinctively leans into the touch, eyes closing to enjoy the feeling. Michael swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat. He has to remember this man, the one that looks so warmly at him and is so gentle. The man whose touch makes him feel safe.

The opening door interrupts their moment and a man in white jacket walks inside. “So Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up?” He says nonchalantly, not really expecting an answer. “How you feeling, Guerin?” The doctor asks him, and Michael's guess is that they know each other. Somehow.

Handsome sighs.

“It’s like you expected, he doesn't remember anything.”

“Ah...well,” The doctor’s confident tone deflated a little. “It's like I said, it'll probably wear off in a few hours. A couple of days at most. Don't worry” His gaze turns back to Michael. “You’re here because you were found on the floor of your…. Er…. lab,” His eyes dart to Handsome for split second. “Far as we can tell, some kind of energy blasted you against the wall. You broke a few ribs and suffered a head contusion. That’s why you can’t remember anything; your brain is still healing from the impact.” Michael decides that he likes this guy; he's straight to the point. “You got here in time, so no permanent damage.”

“I found you before the worst happened.” Handsome adds.

“You found me?” Michael asks, dumbfounded, and the man nods. “Can I at least get the name of my saviour? I can't keep callin' you tall, dark and handsome like I am right now. In my mind.” The man flushes and the doctor grins like it might split his face in half.

“Oh, this is going to be amazing. I’m Kyle,” the man in white jacket introduces himself. “Fanboy of all that is going to happen here.” he motions between the two of them.

“Go away, Valenti.” Handsome pushes him away slightly, but it's gentle, affectionate and he's smiling again.

“I will, not because you are telling me to, but because I have rounds to make.” Kyle process to check on his IV. “This is for the pain, we are not letting it run fast because it’s a strong medication. No need to keep you stoned.” He winks. “See you nerds later.”

Kyle struts to the door and steps outside, "Oh," his head pops back in the room and he's grinning, "Update me on everything later, please."

“Go away, Valenti.” Handsome closes his eyes in annoyance.

“Rude.” Kyle sing songs as he closes the door.

“Just so you know,” Handsome stats, “you hate him.” Michael laughs at that, feeling like there's a story behind it.

“Do I?” Handsome nods. “I want to ask why, but I don't know if I'd get an answer seeing as you still haven't told me your name.”

“My name is Alex. Alex Manes.” Michael likes the sound of that. It fits him. Handsome - Alex - looks at him, almost hopeful. "Anything?"

“Sadly no,” he answers gruffly, because he really wants to remember this man.

“As for your other question..” Alex’s eyes fill with fondness and grabs Michael’s foot through the hospital blanket, giving it a light squeeze and holding on. “I slept here because we made vows to each other and I'm pretty sure there was an 'in sickness' clause thrown in there somewhere.”

Michael's eyes widen in shock and a grin blossoms on his face. “You’re-,” His laugh is joyful. “You,” Michael rises from his position in bed, motioning to Alex with an unnecessarily grand gesture but he can't help himself. “are married to me?”

Alex chuckles. “Yes, is that a bad thing?” His brown eyes fill with something so intense that Michael’s heart melts a little.

Michael almost drowns in his husband’s beauty. “A bad thing?” He gasps melodramatically. “Jeez, no, I'm just shocked that I'm married to the most God-like person I've ever seen. Did I bribe you?” Alex snorts, still holding his foot, but his cheeks are tinged with red. His other hand places a wild lock of Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“No bribery needed.” He adds softly. Michael chose a good one.

“So, you’re mine?” He feels as if he is sounding like a broken record here, but he has to be sure. He's way too enchanted by Alex to risk this being a dream, or some cruel joke. Or... that they're only married by some fluke.

“Yes. And you are mine.” Alex looks delighted in saying that, like being able to say the words is the single most important accomplishment of his life. Like Michael means the world to him.

Alex reaches out and cups Michael’s face in both his hands. They are still warm and now, Michael notices, they're a little calloused. Alex's thumbs sweep under his eyes, along the line of his cheekbones and Michael feels, deep in his soul, that this contact is important to them. He's enamoured with that idea, of having something that's special. That's theirs. Alex leans in, his whole face softening in a way that almost sends Michael into a cardiac arrest. The monitor beside the bed beeps loudly and whatever moment they might have been having is lost immediately.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” Alex whispers, so close that Michael can feel Alex's breath on his face. “No need to call all the floor nurses back into the room.” Michael smiles at his husband's playful words, but his heart is still beating at full force. Alex closes in and nudges Michael's nose with his in a small Eskimo kiss. A swarm of butterflies starts fluttering in Michael's stomach. He settles his own hands on Alex’s arms and let his eyes close. They are quiet for a while, just listening to the soft sound of each other's breathing.

Alex’s unshaven cheek brushes against his own, and it feels soft, intimate. Domestic. Michael exhales and breathes the scent of Alex’s hair, taking a moment to admire how their bodies fit together. Michael’s mind is reeling.

Michael thinks, dragging himself away from how wonderfully Alex fits against him, that this has to be hard on Alex, too. He wonders how hard it's been finding his husband unconscious and then sitting for hours in a hospital chair, watching and waiting for Michael to wake up. Hoping he would. It's with a surge of guilt that he wonders how he ever managed to forget about someone as amazing as Alex? How much of a bitch Fate had to be to put him in this position of forgetting them. He doesn't think it should be possible, since Alex has really only given him an Eskimo kiss and Michael's absolute putty in his hands.

Too soon, Alex pulls away and Michael misses the warmth of his breath. He's a little annoyed at himself for failing to steal a kiss; Alex is his husband, after all, and Michael is in hospital. He definitely deserves some kisses for that.

Alex's hand reaches for his foot once more, thumb digging into the arch in a way Michael didn't know would feel so good and it makes his toes curl. Michael sighs, realising now that they'll have to go back to playing twenty questions and that any chance of kissing is, temporarily, off the table. That’s cool, Michael thinks, he can wait the for the perfect moment to reach for his husband’s luscious pink lips. He wonders what they taste like.

“Now, tell me," he rests back on the bed, crossing his arms cheekly, "why don't I like doctor smarty pants? He seemed okay to me.” He shrugs.

Alex grins. "This is gonna be good. I'll remind you that you said that next time you're complaining that he's over for dinner." He lets go of Michael’s foot.

"Nooo." Michael whines. "That was good."

"Yeah,” Alex chuckles, “I know you like it when I do that," his voice is fond and, not for the first time, Michael wants to be able to remember everything about them. Their first kiss, the first time they made love, who proposed… their wedding. He wants to remember all the times Alex probably did this in bed.

Alex’s hand goes back to his foot and Michael sighs contentedly. "You still have to answer me. What's up with the doc?"

"I used to date him in high school." Alex replies, calmly, and Michael feels his eyes widen in surprise.

"You’re right, I hate him." His mouth curls into a pout. He knows that whatever race he might have been in with the doctor he has clearly won, but he still doesn’t like the thought of his husband ever belonging to anyone else but him. “I think I feel better and we should leave.” He knows he is being childish but he doesn’t care.

Alex snorts. "Same possessive fool," Alex leans in again, probably out of a well-honed instinct, to kiss the pout off Michael's lips but this time Michael's ready. He leans up and catches Alex's lower lip between his teeth, biting gently and stealing a proper kiss when Alex gasps in surprise.

His happiness at (finally) getting a kiss is fleeting, though, because Alex pulls back, grumbling his name in warning. “Michael…”

"What? Can't a dying man kiss his husband?" He doesn't regret what he just did, not in the slightest, Alex tastes like sweet lemonade with a tinge of the coffee he was drinking earlier. His only regret is that he didn't get more.

"You’re meant to be getting... excited." Alex's emphasis on the last word makes Michael wiggle his eyebrows.

"Excited, huh?"

"God, you are such a man-child" Affection is written all over Alex’s face.

"And you love me for it."

"Yeah," Alex murmurs, gazing into Michael's eyes. Michael feels like he might get lost in them. "I do".

Alex blinks, breaking the intense stare and looking almost embarrassed at having let himself get carried away. "Still can't remember anything?" Michael shakes his head no. "Is the pain better?"

Oh yeah, Michael thinks, he'd had a splitting headache before. It strikes him that after Alex told him they were married the pain sort of disappeared. He supposes that pain's irrelevant after the world-changing bombshell's been dropped that the most beautiful person he's ever seen married him willingly and loves him.

Michael is high on feelings.

A buzzing sound on the bedside table draws Alex’s attention. He reaches for the phone and swipes his thumb over the screen. Michael watches his expression shift into something indecipherable.

“What’s wrong?” He asks Alex, a little worried.

“There’s nothing wrong, per se…” His voice draggs on a little. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with loads of information,” He's carefully choosing his words and Michael doesn't like it. “But in a few seconds, this room's going to be invaded by a sticky-fingered, pink tutu-clad hurricane.”

He lost Michael there. What is that supposed to mean?

“What?” He asks confused.

Alex takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand searches for Michael’s and he can see the wedding band on Alex’s finger. “We have a daughter,” Michael stares at Alex, feeling like something in his brain just blacked out, speechless with yet another mind-blowing snippet of a life he's forgotten. “She's four and she's... she's going through a very intense ballerina phase.” Alex smiles softly. “Her favorite everything is pink, and she calls you papa.”

Michael realises he's forgotten to blink, the slight burning in his eyes reminding him to and he does. Once. Twice. The mental gymnastics involved to try and process the way he's feeling are monumental; his heart's trying to bust out of his chest. He hasn't been expecting to be hit with more information, let alone a child, but he's not horrified by the prospect. He realises that Alex has given him everything and he's just starting to understand fully how frightening this experience must have been for Alex. How lucky he is to have Alex in his life.

He still has no idea what landed him in this hospital, but he swears to himself that he will never give Alex another reason to worry like this.

He raises their joined hands to his lips and presses a soft gentle kiss there, looking up at Alex, eyes shining with devotion. “I’m dying to meet her.”

Alex smiles brightly at that. He looks at the ground before raising his gaze again to Michael and that is the most endearing thing he has ever seen in his life. He is a goner.

“Her name’s Malia. I explained to her that you had an accident and told her you might have a hard time remembering things once you get home,” He shakes his head. “But considering she is almost here, Auntie Is couldn’t control her need to see you.” Michael wonders who Auntie Is s, does one of them has siblings?

“Is she really that eager to see me?” He asks in wonderment that, just outside, there's a tiny human kicking up a fuss to see him.

“Yeah, she adores you, Michael.” He tells him, and Michael suddenly feels reassured.

If she's anything like Alex, Michael's pretty positive she's already got him wrapped around her sticky little fingers.

The door bursts open and, just as Alex predicted, a flash of pink tulle crashes through the room, screeching papa on the top of her lungs. The shrillness of the shriek, though not unwelcome, makes Michael's ears sting a little.

“Malia!” Alex chastises her. “What did we tell you? This is a hospital where poorly people are resting. You need to be quiet.” He catches her  hands before she can climb her way up the bed.

She turns to look at Alex. “Sorry, daddy.” Her little voice is apologetic, making grabby hands at him. Alex sighs and hoists her up on his arms.

“Where is your aunt?” He asks her and Michael can see the tip of her lips turning into a grin.

“In the parking lot.” Michael laughs at her answer, catching the little girl’s attention again and she beams at him.

“Don’t encourage her, Michael. She's only like this 'cause you're her partner in crime.” Alex attempts to send Michael a stern look, but he can feel the affectionate and amused undertone.  

“Papa and I are partners in crime!” She repeats gleefully. Michael's having another one of those moments where his brain's refusing to cooperate with him, overwhelmed by what's happening in front of him. She's his daughter. His and Alex's daughter.

She looks exactly like Alex, with the exception of her wild, curly hair and green and golden eyes. She probably got them from their surrogate - he assumes that's what they did. He already knows he's a sucker for her cherubic face and huge, expressive eyes.

“Papa,” She leans her body dangerously away from Alex’s, but he has a firm grip on her. He gets the feeling she's more than a handful, and very unlike Alex personality wise. That makes him grin even more. “I missed you.”

He looks at her and he knows he loves her, he can feel it from that same place deep inside himself that told him he knew Alex. “I missed you too, Princess.”

Alex's eyes snap from Malia to Michael, and he watches his husband look shocked, dumbfounded and then very, very relieved. Malia wiggles impatiently, leaning towards Michael still, and Michael realises that he probably uses that nickname for her all the time. He chooses to take that as a good sign, that his memory's already coming back, faster than anticipated. Hah, he thinks, take that, Kyle.

"Okay, Malia, I'm gonna put you on the bed with Papa, but you have to be really careful, okay?" Alex has Malia's attention again, she's looking at him with huge eyes and nodding her mouth pressed together in concentration. Michael thinks it's adorable. "Papa's got some tubes in to help him get better and they're easy to break. So you gotta be a good girl and sit nicely, okay?"

Malia nods enthusiastically, and Michael wonders if she's even capable of sitting still. He watches Alex say 'good' and glance back at him before Michael's scooting over a little, creating some space for Alex to place her down beside him. It's all so domestic that Michael, once again, is utterly lost for words.

“Papa,” Malia started slowly, plucking at the edge of his hospital gown, “Daddy said you forgot some things,” Her bright eyes are fully focused on him. “But you didn’t forgot me, did you?”

“Of course not,” Michael tells her, not hesitating for a second. He carefully combs her unruly curls with his fingers. “I could never forget you, Princess.”

She smiles appeased her that papa did not forget her and curls herself over him, her tiny head on chest, with a dramatically content sigh Michael's sure she picked up from somewhere else. He looks up and meets Alex's gaze and can see his own fondness reflected on Alex's face.

“I texted Is to tell her Malia's here with us, so she can stop worrying," Alex says with a smile, "she'll be by in a bit to pick her up."

Michael huffs, amused. “She's a handful, huh.” Michael can feel her breathing slowing and evening out, and when he glances down, her blinks are getting heavier.

“She's obviously been using the stubbornness she got from you," Alex murmurs, tone teasing as he brushes his fingers through her hair, "to stay awake to see you. It's way past her bedtime. I'm surprised Is didn't end up carrying her in."

Michael has to ask. “And, uh, who's Is?”

“Shi- Damn, I forgot." Alex makes his way around to the other side of the bed. "Isobel's your sister."

“I  have a sister?”

“And a brother, Max.” Alex breathes out slowly. “I’ve got brothers too but I'm not close with mine. Not like you are with Max and Isobel.” He gives Michael a look. “We can talk about them later, when little ears aren’t around.”

“Okay.” Michael understands.

“Is was our surrogate, that’s why Malia's hair and eyes are like yours.” Alex speaks again after a silence fell between them, and Michael feels surprised all over again.

“I don't even know what I look like,”  His laugh is a little broken. “I didn’t even make the connection.”

“Hey,” Alex says, sharp to get Michael's attention. It works. “Don’t beat yourself up. You're gonna remember everything in time, Michael. Kyle wouldn’t have lied to us. He’s kind of an expert on matters concerning our family.”

Michael can feel his expression shifting into something quizzical, and he knows Alex can see the what does that mean? on his face because Alex is shaking his head and speaking before Michael can.

“Later,” Alex tells him, gentle and firm, "you need to get some rest. You've had a lot of information thrown at you already."

“Only if you lay here with us.”

Alex glances around the room and Michael can tell he's trying to work out if this is a good idea or a terrible one.

“Please,” Michael begs. “It would be nice to to have you both here to help me remember.” He knows he's playing the pity card, but honestly, nothing sounds better to Michael right now than being curled up in a little hospital bed, surrounded by the two people he knows are the centre of his world.

“Fine.” Alex smiles and carefully lays down the bed as Michael shifts onto his side to better share the space, Malia still in his arms. Michael feels Alex's arm slip around his waist, cuddling them both.

“Alex?” Michael asks quietly.

“Mn?” Alex sounds sleepy like Malia and Michael feels a rush of fondness which makes him smile.

“Thank you. For everything,” his voice is trembling slightly, and he takes a breath to control himself. He isn't sure it works. “For loving me and giving me a family.”

Alex buries his face against Michael’s back smiling. “You’re welcome, Guerin” Michael feels the warm press of a kiss against the back of his neck. “Now, go back to sleep.”

Michael closes his eyes and, before sleep can take him, he prays to whomever might be listening: please let me remember everything when I wake up. Please let this be real.

[ralfstrashcan]

3x13 Reaction / Commentary

Yeah I'm aware, stop judging X___X

I feel the need to point this out. Apparently it's common practice for the Praetor to just, kill off their more troublesome charges. Interesting. But Jordan has a different work ethic which is a) apparently not usual for praetors and b) something at least Nick attributes to his past and not, idk, common decency. Just how savage is the Praetor exactly?? (Also let me add this to the list of things why 3x15 makes no sense at all.)

Okay, so they found another mundane dead by Heidi's hand...... why exactly don't they call the Shadowhunters? Aren't they obliged to? I mean?

True, but it sure as hell is her responsibility how she handles them. But we established already that she has a serious perception problem and always sees herself as the victim.

I mean, prime example, if she could have made that smooth exit through the vent where the werewolves couldn't follow, why didn't she just do that from the start instead of attacking Nick? Because she wants to cause trouble and not just “live her life in peace” as she's pretending to.

More like, he didn't have the guts to face Alec like that. Also does that mean he draped Izzy on the couch like that in that clich�� sleeping pose with one hand under the head? At least he took off her boots like a sane person.

“I'm just drained.”

Haha it seems Alec isn't the only Lightwood sibling with a shitty sense of humor.

“I don't have the same preexisting condition.” “You mean my addiction?”

No, Izzy, he obviously means your fashion sense, keep up. Seriously, who wrote that stupid ass line of dialogue.

I found it pretty hilarious that Simon, Clary's literally oldest and bestest friend since kindergarten, feels the need to apologize to Izzy for taking up so much time with his Clary-reunion and blocking the path for her. The Clizzy Energy is Strong.

“Hmmmm hot hot hot Clary, please show me more.”

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY HAHAHAHA PERFECT

Also, Morningstar.... didn't Val name his dumbass tanker ship in S1/S2 Morningstar? Guy really has it with name repetitions, first Jonathan 1 and 2, now Morningstar Ship and Morningstar Sword... I bet he named all his stuffed teddys Mr Snuffels 1, Mr Snuffels 2, Mr Snuffels 3.....

The way he delivers this line me might've as well said “Please cut out the emotional disgusting bullshit my skin is crawling already from this I can't take any more mushiness PLEASE GO AWAY.” Gotta love Alec.

MAGNUS RAGE PUNCHING THE KEYBOARD IS THE MOST RELATABLE THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

Magnus opening up about missing his magic MY HEART OH MY GOD

(Sidenote though: No wonder he got frustrated with the pretentious Shadowhunter Technology, I mean, look at it. There are only runes. Runes may be called runes, but they don't actually make up an alphabet. Why the heck is there a flexibility rune on the screen? It makes no sense.)

This whole scene (and Izzy's lipstick lol) is absolutely perfect. I love everything about it, especially Magnus and especially Izzy. I'd be really surprised if Magnus didn't find a way to get her that weird root thingy anyway, because he surely doesn't buy the “feeling a lot better now” line.

(Edit: Now thinking about it I realized two things, a) she probably didn't take him up on his offer to go to another warlock because she felt like that was unnecessarily rubbing in that he can't do it himself anymore* and b) with that line she probably meant she feels lighter already for sharing what happened and just <3<3<3<3<3)

*The only think that would have made this scene more perfect is if Izzy hadn't skimmed over his magic comment without acknowledging it in any way. Though with this thought in mind, that she rejected his offer to spare his feelings, I find myself placated.

Also I love how Magnus pretends he's going to look for pen and paper when really he's running straight to Alec to tell him all about this (and to prevent a repetition of 2x09 form happening.... and now I made myself sad again).

#effortless (Also reminds me of that post about fire message mechanics that I still owe a certain someone. Where is the time.)

HAHAHAHA

???????????? How do they know that? More importantly, does Alec know? Will he hear through the Shadow World grapevine??? So many questions.

I mean, I have sympathy for her. But like, she's too smart for me to buy that she genuinely can't see any other course of action. She just does this because it's the least effort for her, not because she's truly clueless what alternatives are there for here (aka not running around, killing mundanes, starting a fight with everyone). She just thrives on chaos.

Also “Wolves don't just attack without cause. Not in New York” ? Seems like all Institute except the NY one do a shit job since supposedly keeping peace between the Downworld factions is part of their responsibility. Yes, I am still salty about 3x15. (Also, if anyone's confused by this weird foreshadowing, I wrote notes for this reaction post while watching 3x13 when it first aired, but only got to finish it now after 3x19 aired and I can't keep my chronology-screwing bitterness to myself while finishing up the post. But mostly these are my thoughts from then.)

Yeah something tells me she's not gonna be totally uninvolved in that.

This and the fact that Russel wants to stop Bat from even leaving the Jade Wolf are the final proofs that all the werewolves actually live at the Jade Wolf and pile up in a giant snuggle pile in the kitchen at night. This is further cemented by the fact that Luke and Maia claim to have flats of their own but we never actually see them. Clearly they're both dirty liars that just wanted to mislead.

*late Jocelyn's late friend Eliot #rude #whatever

.......why the hell would Elias code that shit in Circle short hand? So other Circle members, who Jocelyn was hiding from, could easily open that super important safe? So smart! Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Luke in the Circle as well? Shouldn't he be able to read that, too?

1) Eliot is such a loser and a showoff for ostentatiously writing that J in Jocelyn 2) His hint is seriously “Don't open with brute force.” Wtf kind of hint is that man are you even real.

I'm sorry, okay, but everytime I see / hear Bellicosi I think Maxi-Cosi XD

*glares at 3x15* Will I ever tire of raging about that episode? Unlikely.

Why.....? Since he didn't have any problem 100% blaming Raphael for everything Heidi did (not unjustified, but I'm just saying he's suddenly changed his mind). I mean, if he'd said she's dangerous to him and his family that would've been another matter.

These are all runes that I don't remember seeing on the Shadowhunters' Wiki Rune Page. Please tell me more.

Jace: “Clary, you've been going nonstop since you came back. You need to take a minute.”

lol if only Jace would implement the same advice himself.

“Wow I suddeny remember I had a life before I was 10.”

German Dubbing: Yeah, the ones Consul Penhallow categorically ignored. Honestly. Who dubbs this shit. Wtf.

Listen I love everything about this scene. (Fun Fact: In the German Dubbing she says vampire addiction, not venom addiction lol as if she was addicted to vampires XD)

Alec Lightwood, best brother of the year. Btw he's been holding that title since birth. I also don't think Alec would ever judge Izzy for her addiction / look at her as if she's weak, so the fact that she thinks that says a lot about how the addiction affected her self-image.

Too bad Alec forgets this for the next few episodes and acts like a total tool in that Clave Investigation Thing, smh.

Good to know.

Haha that was witty.

Oooooh why don't they ask another warlock then? For example one who's actually always the smartest person in the room?? Who's also willing to work on this??? Just a thought tho, don't let me interrupt the Maruke Bonding. No, you know what? I hate the shipname Maruke, it's shit, so I'm calling it Luryse as it should have been called. Then again, when am I even gonna talk about that pairing? We shall see.

“Outrageous, just because people around me keep turning up dead! It's ridiculous, really, that they'd think I could have something to do with that. It's as if they're not aware this is a TV show and supporting characters die because *Moriarty Voice* THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO!”

“That what the kids call it these days when they get kicked out on their ass?” She literally says “From one exiled to another” so she clearly realized he's full of shit.

“And that's why in two episodes Imma get myself arrested by behaving like a dumbass and then chill in prison as if it's my greatest accomplishment.” Honestly Luke, so many No-s. I can't even.

“Wow I can't believe I have to see this Luryse bs up close.” Hah, now I used the right shipname and can move the f on from bashing that pairing. Sorry about that. I'm sleep deprived. That always makes me extra salty.

“When you're alpha you need to make the pack your first priority. Your personal life needs to take a back seat. And mine never did.” I applaud Luke for admitting he was a shit alpha because he didn't proritize the pack. Hindsight is 20/20.

Wow Luke so helpful <3<3<3 Just like I know and love you.

I also love how nobody questions that Heidi bit that mundane and then chilledly made a phone call at the scene of her Accords-violating crime. How frakking convenient.

But their runes aren't on the same side. Sloppy work. Also, if the illustrator obviouly takes artistic liberties, then the rune missing on the second pic doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe they just forgot to draw it. Then again this isn't even the most flimsy conclusion-making I've wittnessed on this show so I'll let it slide.

lol Jace and Jonathan are basically playing tug of war with Clary: Jonathan burning himself, Jace activating her healing rune XD

Ooooh brainless S1 Clary, how I have not missed you. Srsly now? Carve it out? That didn't work for Simon so why should it now? lol she should ask the seelie queen if she has some handy floor mosaic thingy in her courtyard to help with that.

In his defense, he moved.

It's not gonna work is what it is. Srsly how dumb are they? Why the hell does she think something so powerful can just be carved out?? Wtf.

Woooow they're using a rune removing device, color me impressed. I really thought they'd just put a scalpel to it. So, at least points for trying.

Uuuuh get some morphin, try again. I mean. But anyway.

*break up

......didn't she just break up with him because pack reasons? Where is that not a Shadow World Reason? Please explain. (Also choosing an unflattering screen cap of Simon because he annoys me? Absolutely. I am petty like that.) The easy way Simon accepts their break up really makes me wonder. If Maia hadn't said anything, would he have broken up with her? Since apparently things “changed” and they could “both” “feel” it. Honestly. He literally calls her his girlfriend at the start of the scene as if to draw attention to how ridiculous this is.

You know what, I don't even have the energy to rage about this. Their relationship was so great, they were so supportive of each other, they had great chemistry, great communication, they always stood by each other. And just because Sizzy has to be endgame there were suddenly weird-ass tension between them for no real reason – none that 3A Saia wouldn't have worked through like pros anyway – just so this break up wouldn't come out of absolutely nowhere. It's shit treatment of both their characters and their relationship and I'm just so exasperated with it all. (Also not the way to endear me to Sizzy. But at this point I feel like a broken record.)

Discount? It was free. Which I'm still finding super hard to believe by the way, that a werewolf establishment would just give out free food to vampires who don't even work there. But what do I know, right, I mean it's not like they just mentioned a few minutes ago how werewolves and vampires hate each other? Right?? Hahaha.

Wow. This actually takes the time to highlight that this break up wasn't as amicable as Simon thought. Maybe he thought that they were breaking up for human reasons, but Maia clearly feels she threw her relationship away for the pack and it's hard for her. And Simon's tirade wasn't really encouraging her to let him know that. I really appreciate that detail.

Other things I want to say: 1) I didn't like that Maia just flat out broke up with him. She should have informed him that she was going to step up for the pack and would have to prioritize that over their relationship and then leave it up to him if he wants to put up with that or not. By breaking up she made the choice for him. Her course of action is ic, I'm not critizising that, but from like, a personal stand point I don't like it. 2) Foreshadowing: Since her whole pack gets slaughtered, if that would have been the only reason to break up with Simon she coulda just gotten back together with him lol. Haha sorry I'm trash. I know.

Wow he's really dumb. He knows Heidi's brand of crazy and still he doesn't realize this was a trap. He said himself that Heidi must have done something for the Preator to be after her, and when the Praetor tells him she's been leaving copses left and right he...... takes this as his cue to ally himself with Heidi??? Wtf?????? Does he not believe what Jordan said? Again, he suspected something like that himself and since the Praetor are playing at being the Downworlder Police they wouldn't just make something like that up with no proof. The heck. I don't get you, Boss Vampire Guy.

Also, thumbs down for the Praetor, if they'd just told them their source was Heidi herself (on the phone) this could have been prevented. But, ugh. With how things are I can at least kinda buy that no working communication between vampire clan and Praetor exists.

Still, if the Praetor wants to be accepted as some kind of Shadow World Institution they should really work on their manners.

.................................................

I I don-- I can't. *sigh* I can't believe I just had to watch this with my own two eyes. Have they not been trained for a case like this? A fellow shadowhunter injured in the field? That activating the healing rune should be the first thing you do? Before lovingly prying information from the dying person?? I mean, if that's not Plot Convenience then I don't know what is. Sure, he needs to give them a snippet of info, but not too much. But please, please, couldn't writers have found a way for this that didn't make them look like the stupidest of idiots in the entire frikkin world?! Wtf. WTF. I can't believe it.

Uuuuuuh how did she know how to turn those things if all she had to work with was Don't use brute force?? Do I have to understand that?

“You brought coffee, after all.”

Look she's so ashamed she even turned away from the screen haha. Also it's so refreshing to see grown ass people approach a relationship like idiotic teens. (Yeah, that was sarcastic.)

“And right now I wanna do you.” Hahahaha sorry, too good to pass up, you can bet your ass imma turn this into a dumb comic XD

“I love you, Clary. And I'll love you until I die. And if there's a life after this I'll love you then, too.”

Okay, I wanted to roll my eyes at their love confession, but what Jace said was actually really sweet <3

Alec: All our people were accounted for at the time of the murder. Izzy: We think it was a Clave hit.

Oh couldn't have been one of the millions of Shadowhunters from another Institute? No, I'm sure Alec checked that on their neat little Shadowhunter Intranet, that all other Shadowhunters all over the workd were accounted for as well. Honestly.

Also, Maryse says “By the angel,” but in the German Dubbing she says “What the angel” which makes it seem as if Shadowhunters curse by replacing dirty words with “angel” and just... what the angel XD

Why the hell are they all so obsessed with Latin? Ugh. Exhausting hobby.

Btw lol, please rewatch that scene, the background music is weirdly reminiscent of the Stranger Things Theme hahahaha. (Also omg I'm peeking into the German dubbing and it doesn't even make SENSE hahaha what the shit.)

LOL that's like the soulmate trope but in painful XD basically the creepy incest edition XD But honestly can we appreciate what a nice hand Jonathan has with a knife and with his left hand?? Prodigy.

This is it, the final proof that they actually all live at the Jade Wolf hahahha.

...................................? Why the f is she happy to see Jordan? Last time they saw each other she clearly stated she hated him?? Do I need to understand?? Oh right. In the books Maia and Jordan get back together. Right. Stupid, why am I even surprised by this??

Wtf isn't he the clan leader? Why the hell is he acting so submissively to Heidi all of a sudden? Literally half a day ago he threw her out of his clan, knowing his place. And now he's like a puppet on her strings. Wtf. But I guess that happens when you treat characters as plot devices. They get inconsistent even if they only have two scenes. *sigh*

Awwww would you look at that, werewolves and vampires fighting with fists like mundanes. (Okay some of them had like, daggers, but where are the fangs and the claws? Honestly.)

Okay I did her injustice in my trailer reaction since this is a vamp and a legitimate fight situation.

Wow that actually surprised me. But Jordan also dies in the books so, oops. Just didn't think they'd skip the getting together.

WOW that really surprised me. I thought Maia would challenge him and they'd have an epic fight to the death or something. (Also wtf Griffin guy, what's with that creeper face.)

To be honest I find it hard to believe that Maia acts like this. Scared out of her mind, yeah sure. But she acts helpless, and she's never been that. When she got that pipe thing I thought she'd use it as a stake. Using it to block the door is smart, too, but why didn't she get another to have a stake? Her whole posture, uselessly hangig over Jordan screams damsel in distress and I don't like it at all.

Edit: I had certain fears how this plotline would be developed in 3x14 which thankfully didn't come true, but my conflicted opinion on this ending scene remains.

Anyway let’s take a moment and appreciate Maia’s Killer Boots.

BTW watched the 3x14 trailer and just.... what. Why the f would Magnus ask Lorenzo of all people for help? He can't be trusted. As if he wouldn't use that opportunity to break Magnus even further! WTF! Where's Catarina? Oh, let me guess, another Drunk Doctor Conference *epic eyeroll*

[undeadpsycho13]

a cup of coffee to warm my icy heart

GUYS GUYS GUYS THE COFFEE SHOP AU THINGY IS DONE (first chapt at least. this whole thing is going to be AT LEAST 5 chapters)

imma tag these people, for wonderful awesome ideas: @puzzle-of-life-reason-for-death​ (for coming up with the headcanon/awesome au), @baitsakhan-adlai​ (for glaring at me constantly across the room telling me telepathically to hurry up), @13thendgameplayer​ (for the beautiful pickup lines you supplied, truly they were amazing, i swear to god imma use more of them in the next chapts), @redheaded-sniper-girl​ (this is to repent my sins, im sry this part wasnt mac’s perspective, i promise at least some of it will be, i hope you like this), and @baitsabeeisreal​ (bc even tho she didnt really contribute, she’s like the #1 baitsabee fan out there)

okay, yeesh, long boring credits are over, now lets get on with the show!! :D

CHAPTER 1: HOT, DARK, STRONG, JUST LIKE ME

The first time was an accident.

Baitsakhan didn’t really mean to walk into a coffee shop that wasn’t Starbucks, it just kind of happened.  His legs kind of just… carried him away from the Starbucks nearest to his house, and since he couldn’t be bothered to walk an extra block to the second closest Starbucks, he decided to try out that shady looking “Endgame” cafe.  Edgy name, Baitsakhan thought absent-mindedly.  Well, technically he did have reason, and it wasn’t really an accident, but hey, he can’t just say he didn’t want to go back to the Starbucks because he was pissed at the cashier.  That Hilal something, who was all about niceness and world peace and all that other nonsensical bull.  It just pissed him off, how people could be so cheery and kind.  The Incident last week, involving at least a dozen pamphlets on saving the environment and using Baitsakhan as a bulletin board, was the final straw.  He couldn’t go back to Starbucks after that, and what right did the world have to take away coffee from a poor, sleep-deprived, coffee-needing teenager, right?

A text lit his phone just when he was about halfway across the street.  He ignored the faint vibration.  Really, it could only be three people: Jalair, his very over-protective brother who wouldn’t let him do anything remotely fun (“Baitsakhan, what are you doing to that poor kitten?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe just cutting off his tail with a butter knife if you suddenly went blind today.” “How could you do that to poor Muffin??!!”), his horribly awesomely social sister Sarangerel who had a bajillion times more friends than Baitsakhan (“A bajillion times zero is still zero Baits.” “That’s not my point.”), or his Chinese friend (read: only friend) An Liu (contrary to popular belief, Baitsakhan did have one friend, though even he didn’t care to admit it).  Turns out, curiousity got the better of him, and after another five or six continuous obnoxious buzzes (by now he was sure it was Sarangerel), Baitsakhan whipped out his phone angrily, prepared to type out a biting lecture about why friends and family should not double text and annoy the hell out of him in the process, when he realised –– with a frown –– that the number displayed on his phone was an unfamiliar one, labelled neither “Mother-Hen”, nor “Social Butterfly”, nor “Asian Hacker Lovebird”.  In fact, the area code displayed it wasn’t even from the area.

And all of them, every single text, was the same thing: bring me the goddamned ice cream.  A final: ais ik ur redin these txts topped it off.

The atrocious grammar pissed him off.  So did the fact that this person called him freaking Ais.  What kind of name was that, anyways?  Typing furiously, a long paragraph was added to the message: F off, I’m not Ais.  You’ve got the wrong number idiot.  Besides, who would give ice cream to you??  Loser.  By the way, don’t text me back.  Like ever again.  Delete this message immediately, or my weird hacker friend will be out to get you and possibly put a bullet through your head with a drone if you don’t.  Have a nice life!

Feeling pleased with his impeccable grammar, and his nice little response, Baitsakhan continued along towards the coffee shop.  The a hidden speaker above the door emitted a faint ringing noise, which was, too be honest, quite annoying.  He didn’t understand how anyone could stand hearing that sound hundreds of times a day.  For once, he kind of felt bad for the baristas.

The coffee shop was surprisingly quite crowded, at least compared to what Baitsakhan’s expectations would be.  In the far corner, a sturdy-looking dark-skinned girl sat opposite of another one, except slim and of Indian heritage.  Closer to the entrance sat a woman, hijab covering half her head, alone, sipping a cup of coffee with an icy expression on her face.  Near the cashier, three people were chatting animatedly, a guy with a scar on his face holding hands with a blond girl, sitting across from a pretty Native-American girl.

Baitsakhan made a face.  He really should have just sucked it up and settled with Starbucks.  All these annoying people… at least the Starbucks was relatively quiet.  Sighing, he made a mental note not to come back again, before begrudgingly trudging up to the counter.

The boy standing at the counter was presumably in his late teens, his hair honey colored with streaks of something darker tied up into a short ponytail, displaying a set of silver earrings that contrasted nicely with his immaculate jet-black suit, though steaks of it were already coming loose.  It suited him nicely, Baitsakhan couldn’t help but notice.  His electric blue eyes, wary like that of a predator’s, flashed eagerly at having another customer, perhaps saving him from his endless boredom.  A nonchalant expression crossed his face, followed by a knowing smirk, and then was once again replaced by a mockingly polite look as he called out,

“How may I help you?”

Baitsakhan stared unabashedly at the guy, unamused.

“I thought this was a coffee shop.  Get me some goddamned coffee.”

Something akin to surprise appeared in the cashier’s eyes, but like every other emotion quickly disappeared.  He probably didn’t get rude comments like this often.  Serves him right, thought Baitsakhan, trying to ignore the boy’s undeniable hotness as a feral grin spread across the guy’s face.  The name Maccabee was written on a pin proudly hung from the guy’s breast pocket.  Baitsakhan duly noted this, for no reason at all.  He had no reason to store away this kind of information.  He totally wasn’t planning on coming back again.

“Okayyy then,” he drawled, every word unnecessarily lengthened, “How would you like your coffee?”

“Hot, dark, strong.” Baitsakhan had no time for this nonsense.

“Just like me then,” Maccabee said, waggling his eyebrows.

Baitsakhan stared, unimpressed,

“Do you flirt with everything that walks on two legs?”

Again, the guy looks surprised.  Probably hasn’t had a pick-up line thrown back at his face before, Baitsakhan thinks with a smirk.

“Nope, just cute ones.”

The barista turned to make the coffee, and thank God he turned to make the coffee, because Baitsakhan has chosen just the right time to have his face turn completely red.

Ugh.

He really should have just gone to Starbucks.

A/N: 

cringey title, cringey chapter title, cringey everything… sounds about right

i should have mentioned before, YES I TOTALLY SHIP AN AND BAITS AS A BROTP EVEN THO ITS SUPER WEIRD AND THEY PROB HATE EACH OTHER CANON BUT WHO CARES.

also, sorry about the non-typical depiction of maccabee, i kinda just imagined him with long hair one day and it… kinda spiralled off into the void?? idk.  i kinda like it.

ALSO, i sorta maybe incorporated a wrong number!au into this also. sue me, i was playing around with thing and it got outta hand, ok

next chapt will be up by the end of the week (hopefully earlier, i have an hr to write tomorrow, and this chapt only took an hr, so… possibly tomorrow :) no guarantees tho)

[stannamarsh]

Souvenirs From Hell

And why I need some space. A decade should suffice.

Colette Baron Reid's free online Wisdom of the Hidden Realms cards says, to paraphrase: Careful what you wish for. You'll get it. So Santa Claus, God, Karma, Universe, parents: Thank you for my wonderful life. This is UNIVERSAL SHOPPING LIST for the future, my FIVE-YEAR- PLAN,   which is about to come up Hanna. Apparently, I am attracting what I want. This is it:

To anyone miffed by my no- nonsense, potentially hurtful to those who are not ready to hear it (and I get it because I've been there):

This is the difference between a messed up 24 + 25 year old and a messed up 29 year old, aka me. Knowing what you want and having the vision to get it. Knowing that your fuck-ups are your own responsibility. Knowing you're a mentally ill bitch who says harsh things, making the granary of truth harder to hear. It’s wanting desperately to be your best and highest self, and not just in the Cheech and Chong sense either.  I want to be  kind person, living a life I choose, fulfilling my potential. Due to my confusion and pain (whether conscious or not), it's a struggle. Knowing what I want isn't the issue. Acting on it is.

As for the five years growth between 24 and 29 I never believed it was that big of a difference until I lived it. That gap, in my experience is codependency and trying to fix another person. Even when we know that change comes from within, we do this anyway! Everybody has their own journey that no amount of meddling from loved ones can divert. Not letting others walk their own journey or not being left alone to walk it is 90% of our therapists' jobs. As for shrink's, I'll muse on that when I see Amy, Dr. Robert, and Widitz. That shit’s more complicated. As far as possible we should work on ourselves. Because many, if not most partners that we try to prod and improve, and love into what we need them to be are stubborn idiots, and frankly so are we, for attempting to do this. I don't want to waste my fucking energy trying to train them to man/woman/non-binary up and be friggin grownups. Not my circus, not my monkeys, and most certainly, not my cage.

Now for the goals:

1)  A home that is mine. Not living in a hippie garbage can or benign drug house, albeit one with a chill vibe in a nice neighborhood full of little-free-libraries,  with nice people who are doing their best so you can't really blame them. But goddammit, I want different. It scared me that this was becoming my life. Is this my scene? What about my goals? I got negative and bitchy, and eventually exploded despite your stellar hospitality.  (Half of this is my mother talking.) I'm trying to work on these things at my own place, but humans are influenced by their friends. I need to distance my self myself until my living space at Hawk's Ridge is up to my standards, I need to work on that. Yours can be whatever you want it to be. And the hypothetical me with my shit together would give zero fucks about, once I'm confident that I have  my own standards. I just can't be in a place that dogs me with my own procrastination.

2) A solid community of friends and family who are "going places" in life, to the best of their individual ability (which does not mean under the constant influence of recreational yet legal prescriptions. I'm not judging, given my penchant for these, and the fact that I'm starting NA tonight, Legal drugs that become a grey area between therapeutic and recreational are fun, but they won't help you achieve you goals. Anxiolytics are for anxiety, or the dentist. Vicodin is for pain and don't mix either with copious amounts of alcohol. That's why you spend too much time throwing up instead of doing fun things, like a cancer patient with much nicer hair. Also, drink water, if you want to keep up with Mexicans, working in the hot sun without getting heat exhaustion at your job.  Common sense, people. I'm not saying your pain isn't real but some of it is your doing, just like some of mine is my doing. We have to hold ourselves accountable, better ourselves, drink  and smoke weed socially and responsibly on VACATION (not stupidly or ever before getting  behind the wheel.) Get with the program. People with more obstacles than solid doctors, helpful family, and a paid-off home do it every day. This was what I was keeping to myself until I said it in the wrong way while crying in your bathtub, "communicating why I was harshing your buzz with my negativity.) At the time, I had had a Klonopin, a Xanax, a Vicodin, another Xanax, another Xanax, and alcohol. I'm not a puker. I'm a cathartic, brutally honest crier, which is as bad a vomit in its own way. It smells better but takes longer to clean up. I'm sorry I hurt that sweet boy's feelings through the wall and seemed ungrateful for your hospitality when I wasn't. It's my fault for taking all those drugs, but I wasn't comfortable, something was wrong, I couldn't put my finger on it, and I repressed it with anything available to keep from being rude. It didn't work. There was truth in it, but the way I put it was mean, and unnecessary. Holding stuff in is bad for me. You said communicate. I said what I said  it in a rude way, but  parts of it are justified. And if I hadn't said it then, I would have eventually. Yes, I am grateful to people who open their homes to me, go on adventures with me, share their possessions with me. Catharsis can be cruel. You know who you are and I love you both but I can't hang around you when working towards the goals in this post, at least until I'm solidly clean and have put a dent in my 5 year plan. Whether you would even want that is up to you. I'll be busy but I still care.   Though, I expect at this point, it's tl;dr for the both of you. That's another thing. Friends are people for whom tl;dr does not exist, unless they've had a stroke or something.

3) If there is a love mate out there for me, a soulmate if such a thing exists, I want to encounter this person on my adventures. I don't chase or look, because it depresses me and reduces love "such that it is" to consumption, or a meal ticket, a housing situation, a drug connection, a business deal, or a codependent puddle of mutual enabling. It's worse than any drug save needles, meth or crack, and all to often often, drives otherwise decent people down that road.

4. I want to go to Boulder, CO, my own personal Mecca.  My condolences that police and a drugged hippie were mutually stupid and it resulted in tragedy. I mean the guy was strung out running naked in public. The worst child murder/ rape went down there too, but people move on and this is where i want to live. This is my goal and I'm strong enough to not let news reports stop me from achieving what I want

5. I want my MLIS and will get it in December. When I get my debt and income under control, I want to participate in a BA to MD/PHD program because once I'm stable, and clean, I know I can buckle down, tear through that MCAT and make it happen. See, when I was messed up, I at least knew enough not to hurt myself or spend the next day vomiting.   Let's turn this sad, low-rent talent of mine into something that can help people.  Want to be: medical librarian, doctor, medical PHD (You heard me: MUD/FUDD), writer,Gonzo blogger, adventurer, world traveler, and at times, gainfully unemployed. These will all happen if I go to my meetings and follow Dr. Robert's advice: Get clean, hang out only with stable people who are tackling their goals, and  achieve  my scholarly potential, which truth be told is at least a Masters' and an M.D/PH.D to reach my intellectual potential. Not to brag, but it's somewhere between Lisa Simpson and Malcolm in the MIddle. (Meaning I'm probably a crazy genius, and if I'm retarded, John is a vegetable, organic I hope, so as compost he can me useful.) People say all the time that you're too old to start over. If someone can't do it they want to tell you that you can't too. Age is just a number. And truth be told, I'd rather die learning than being stuck in mediocrity.

6. I want happiness, stability, freedom from drama. attachment issues, an end to  envy, that a friend or acquaintance has someone, no matter how messed up the situation. I want independence, to control my compulsive, self destructive need to help others when there's shit I have to do for myself just to prove my worth and keep them from leaving me  when I'm unnecessarily honest at them. I need to trust my vibes. If a situation feels icky or grasping or just plan dirty,  I'm out. It's been real. Thanks for having me. Time to go slay the other goals.

7. MONEY...ENOUGH money that I have everything I want and need,within reason and accounting for storage space, a home, a housekeeper, or at least some  kind of professional organizer to help me with cleaning and beautifying my home, which is not my forte.   My wonderful parents Susan Coleman and Donald Jeff Martin are helping me follow my bliss. They are the absolute best parents. I can never do enough to properly that them for giving me life, taking a great risk to do so, for my dad taking the time to give private preschool quality education so now math and languages are easy for me, my mom who taught me about feminism, and whether she knew it or not, supercharged my innate qualities of forthrightness, justice, and the desire to fight for what's right. Thanks even more for teaching me about feminism, right from wrong, and taking care of me. I had an enriched life, despite little money. That is a miracle.  They (and my pets, and my goals) are, together MY EVERYTHING. Gratitude. Balance. Best Life. That's what I'm after. Money is the tool to reach goals, not the goal itself.

8. Lastly, I want adventure....safe, but not so safe that it isn't fun. Exploring the world, writing, experiencing, living. This alone will keep me from getting sucked into any sexist bullshit or dysfunctional "love" vortex. When I achieve THAT, the desire to hurt myself, check out, or die will be OVER forever. I know this instinctively. That's the GP. Hell. I might become a GP. But, I'd prefer something more Housean, such as Pathology or Internal Medicine,  I am the queen of my castle. But, to paraphrase Marley, that castle is in my MIND. To paraphrase Thoreau, my castles in the sky are the shit. Now they and I need a proper FOUNDATION.

None of this is meant to be unthoughtful dig at Jexi. I call you this because I seem to know (or perhaps knew you as a unit. Who are each of you individually?) (Also, I don't think either of you are notorious enough to be figured out by that alone, so I'm attempting discretion.) This is  just my perspective. My truth.

Thank yous: Gino Dykstra,  Amy, the therapist, Doctor Robert Wesner, Dr Widitz, Dr. Don St. John, and Linda the P.C, and all the people from Partial Hospitalization and STEPPS. If I forget someone, add yourself. Oh, Lori Parrish Niemi, Christina Morris Penn-Goetsch,  William Niemi, Jexi, for helping me gain this insight, and back in the day, Keith E Gatling.

Weirdly, I am also grateful for that squirrelly, two-faced bastard, John Trachsel, who made himself useful for the first time ever, by convincing me to abandon my impulsive suicide gesture, even if he did go from treating me like a "person"/ possible lay to taking a step back, changing his tune, when he realized it was me. I'm not one for another addict and messed up person to be seen with. Bullshit, but not my circus, not my monkeys, not my shit and shame filled monkey cage.  Yes, all of us "crazy, "retarded" women that you "don't want people to know you talk to" (despite the fact that most people have  no problem acting like a god-damn human toward me) may sometimes do good things that I good, though I think you would have hung or not called me if you for one second believed that I, Hanna Martin was distraught, suicidal, and in need of help. My point is thateven though you badly need therapy and other help, you are not completely useless. There may still be inpatient help for you and I no longer wish you dead.)

Thanks to all who have helped. One day at a time. I spent the whole damn day on this.