#v. just remember when you grow up your heart dies ( main. )

[moldbreakcr]

"goodnight moon, goodnight trees. goodnight ghosts only i can see."

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[jihyuncompass]

V Flower Shop AU Headcanons

The second half of this request from @otherlandshark​ ! My goodness I’ve missed my dear Mint man <3. I tried to keep it mostly fluffy, but there’s a little bit of angst in there. Since I can’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this Shark! Love you lots!

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide (Relating to Rika)

Jihyun/V

The first time you saw him had been in early spring. 

The weather was starting to get warmer, flower blossoms starting to grow on the ground and on the trees. 

On that warm spring day the sound of the bell by the door ringing grabbed your attention. 

You’d been working on  your newest flower arrangement. Bunches of flowers scattered around your table. The fragrant scent overwhelming your senses. 

Tearing your gaze from your work your eyes met the Mint eyed stranger in the doorway. 

You shouted out a greeting to him, your usual “Welcome in!” that you told every customer when they came in. 

The man had smiled and greeted you back. His voice was warm and gentle, a voice that just radiated comfort. 

You did return to your work, but your eyes kept wandering towards the man. Watching him as he admired the arrangements you’d put together earlier in the day. 

Keeping your gaze careful you made sure he didn’t notice how you were watching him. 

After looking around for a while he eventually came to the counter with a bouquet in hand. 

“Is this all for you?” You asked. He nodded. “Are these for anyone special?” You asked. 

“Yes.” The man said with a warm smile. “They’re for my fiance. Rika.” 

You finished wrapping the bouquet and taking the money from him. “Well this is a perfect choice for a romantic partner. I’m sure your Rika is a lucky woman.” 

He’d lifted the bouquet to rest in the crook of his arm and thanked you. You’d watched him as he left, the warmth in his voice lingered in your mind. 

You’d returned to your arrangement in progress. Lifting the yellow daffodils to add in for the next one. 

The mint haired man returned again a few weeks later. This time he was followed by someone, a bright eyed blonde woman. 

You tried not to eavesdrop on them. Still, you couldn’t help but look at them, and listen to the way they spoke. 

“What do you think of these, beloved?” The man asked.

“They’re beautiful V.” She said, her voice like the man, V’s, was gentle. “I think they’d look beautiful on the kitchen table.”  

“I agree.” He said. He looked up towards your work table briefly meeting your eyes. You smiled politely and returned to your work. Forcing your eyes to stay attentive to your work. Greeting them both with a smile when they did approach your table to check out. 

He returned many times. Sometimes with his beloved Rika, sometimes alone. At one point he was coming in almost once a week to pick up a new bouquet. 

 You made small talk with him, each time learning a little more about him. His name was V, though that wasn’t his birth name. He was a photographer, he and his fiance had a charity group they ran together. 

He talked passionately about the RFA, Rika’s Fundraising Association. Named for his fiance. He often talked about the members, and their upcoming events. 

His love for the organization was shown when he’d asked if you’d be willing to provide flowers as decorations for their upcoming party. You’d agreed in a heartbeat, spending long nights arranging carefully constructed bouquets. 

The first time you saw V away from the flower shop was at this party. You arrived at the party venue an hour before the event’s start time, wearing your work apron and your car full of flower arrangements. 

You’d were briefly questioned by a brown haired woman with a clipboard and RFA badge. Asking if you were the florist, if you had identification. You explained that V had paid upfront for these, and asked where they should go. 

V was in the main hall, dressed in a tailor made suit, beside him was Rika, wearing a dress clearly designed to match her fiance’s. They were speaking with a tall dark haired man with a serious expression, the serious looking man looked familiar somehow. Maybe you’d seen him somewhere. 

Like you did at the shop, you did your best to not eavesdrop. You were here for a job after all, and one that did pay very well. 

“I didn’t see you come in.” V’s voice pulled you from your mind. He was standing in front of you, his eyes looking right into yours, his eyes moved to the arrangements. “These are wonderful. I knew you would make something perfect.” V said. 

“I’m glad you like them!” You said, your cheeks red from his compliment. “This is quite the event you have here.” 

V’s smile grew. “Yes, we’re hosting many important people tonight. We’re hoping we’ll be able to raise money for a good cause.” 

“What are you raising money for?” You asked out of curiosity. 

“This time we’re raising money for children in orphanages. The money will go to finding good homes, and giving them a brighter future.” He admired the bouquets again. “Your choices of flowers always amaze me. They’re always so perfectly chosen.” 

Your face burned more. “You’re extremely kind V. I always want to make the best arrangements I can. I’m glad you appreciate them.” 

“I do, and I’m sure our party guests will too.”

“Well.” You said clearing your throat. “Next time you host a charity party, I’ll do the arrangements for free.” 

V’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You deserve to be paid for your work.”

You shook your head. “The work you do is important, I want to do my part.” 

V’s surprised face shifted to a warm one. “Well then. I may take you up on that offer.” You still felt the warmth in your cheeks, still you smiled at him. 

He continued to shop at your store nearly every week. Yet you started to notice some changes over time. 

At first it was small, he looked more tired. Then Rika stopped coming in with him as much, and when they did come in they didn’t look like their normally blissful selves. 

Then you brought flowers to the next party, and as you set the bouquets up you heard the sound of the couple arguing behind a closed door. You didn’t hear their words, still, you heard the harsh tones. 

Then, a few weeks after that party. V stopped coming all together. 

A few days after you realized, you saw an article in the paper. 

RFA founder and Photographer’s Fiance Rika Kim dies of Suicide. 

You stared at the photo of V’s beloved Rika printed in black and white. Apparently she’d thrown herself off a cliff and into the ocean. Reading it your heart ached for V. You wanted to reach out to him, make sure he was okay, but you had no real way to contact him. 

You made a special flower arrangement. And sent it to the funeral home listed to be handling her celebration of life. In it, a note to V expressing your condolences. 

Weeks, months passed without seeing V again. He was like a ghost, one moment he’d been a part of your weekly routine and then he was gone. 

Seasons changed, the trees growing and losing their leaves. All the while, you thought about the gentle mint eyed V. How kind he was, how thoughtfully he chose bouquets. How he always knew every flower's meaning. His love of daffodils. 

A year and a half passed. You struggled to remember V’s face now, his voice only existing in your memory, yet every time you added a daffodil to an arrangement. The memories of him would come rushing back. 

The warmth of the late summer forced you to wipe away sweat from your brow. You made sure your fan was on while you watered the potted plants on one end of the store. You gently poured the water from your watering can, making sure not to overwater the vibrant green plants. 

The ringing of the bell up made you stand up straight. You turned towards the door to greet the customer before your words got caught in your throat. 

V was standing in the doorway. However, now he wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a white cane held in his hand. Still, it was V. The V you had missed so much. 

“V?” You asked. The man’s head turned toward the sound of your voice. “It’s been so long.” You said. 

V looked sheepish. “Yes, it has been a long time.” 

You set down your watering can. “I heard about Rika. I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

He sighed. “Yes, I got your bouquet too. It was very beautiful.” 

Your smile was tense. “Thank you.” You looked him up and down, your eyes getting stuck on the cane. “Is there something I can help you find, V?” 

He took a shaky breath in. “Yes actually. I’m looking for an arrangement but-” He sighed. “My eyesight, it’s pretty much entirely gone now. So I wouldn’t know where to start looking.” 

You looked at your work table then back at V. 

“I’ll make you one.” You said. “I’ll make sure it smells good, for you.” You walked towards V, carefully taking the man’s arm. 

V smiled, his ears tinted pink “I’d hate for you to go to so much work for me.”

You smiled. “Never too much. Especially not for my favorite customer.” You led him to the chair by your work table so you could start his arrangement. “Now, would you like daffodils? I know they’re your favorite.”

V pressed his lips together. “Actually, do you have the Lily of the Valley?” 

You smiled. “I do. Why that flower if I may ask?” 

Behind his glasses you saw his glassy eyes close. “I like their significance.” 

“The Return to Happiness” You said quietly. V nodded. “Well, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of them for you.” 

V left the shop holding his bouquet. A small smile still on his face, and a large one on yours. 

He returned the next week, and you had already prepared a new arrangement for him. One where the fragrance of the flowers was most important. 

The two of you continued that, every week. Each week with a new bouquet made only for him. And each time, you added flowers to express your feelings for him. Wishes of happiness, of healing. 

Of friendship. 

Of love. 

V came in at his usual time, while you finished up his order for the week. You called out a greeting to him, making sure he safely made it to the counter. 

“This one has the season’s newest blooms” You said, holding it close so he could smell. “I think the smell is really nice, it’s not too strong but it’s still very present.”

V took the wrapped bouquet. But he seemed quieter than usual, and you noticed the pink tinge in his ears. 

“V?” You asked. “Everything okay?” 

“I don’t want to be too forward but.” V started. 

“Yes?”

“There’s an event being held at the nearby gardens. To celebrate the new season. I was wondering, if you would like to go with me?” 

You smiled and reached out to gently touch his hand. 

“I would love to.” 

[spockandawe]

What are your favorite chinese webnovels? What are some of the differences youve noticed between cnovels and other types of novels?

That second question is really, REALLY interesting, and I really want to answer it well, and I am REALLY sure I’m going to do a bad job of answering it, so let me just noodle about that first question for a minute while I try to think XD

I went through some of my TOP-top favorite novels in more detail yesterday, but generally speaking, mxtx and meatbun are both at the top of the pack. They’re really good at writing compelling main characters and balancing piles of angst with plenty of humor and pulling everything together into a very satisfying ending (which is something I don’t alwaysssss see, even in some of the novels I really like). After them, The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish (transmigration, ancient chinese prince falls in love with pet fish) and Golden Stage (ancient chinese gay arranged marriage between bitter enemies(?)) are two novels that I love a lot, which both have very cute romances and go a bit lighter on the main character suffering front, and which I broadly recommend to anyone who’s interested in the genre. They didn’t end stick the landing QUITE as hard as an svsss or tgcf, but they still were very nice.

Then, let me see. I’m trying to remember which books I’ve read in the last year, and am doing a terrible job, haha. I will say that a book I enjoyed for like... eighty percent of it and then the ending let me down terribly was The Dreamer In The Spring Boudoir (modern day career woman transmigrates into barely-fantasy ancient china novel as the disliked primary wife of a nobleman), which is also the only straight webnovel I’ve read so far. The main character and romance were delightful, but that ending... haha, wow, I felt betrayed. But I did like the first half very much!! I’m idly contemplating a deliberately-partial reread. Then I’m currently like two chapters away from catching up with the current translation of The Wife Is First (ancient chinese prince lives out time travel fixit fic, determined to treat his spouse better this time around). I’m also catching up on Heroic Death System (transmigration, across MANY universes, where the goal is to die heroically in each one, and also maybeeeee to find his boyfriend in each one. this shit gets fucking bananas. in one of them, he emotionally seduces his boyfriend while he’s a dolphin. in another one, he’s a sentient mushroom. i’m in the middle of a section titled ‘I Am An Evil Pen’. yes, like a writing utensil type of pen. this is the weirdest book I’ve read so far). Oh, and Thousand Autumns (righteous sect leader gets sabotaged and loses a fight, wakes up blind and amnesiac, demonic sect leader is like ‘lol i bet i can turn him evil’ and accidentally catches feelings along the way).

What else... I’m keeping up with (but behind on) some others. First, there’s How To Survive As A Villain (modern terminally ill CEO transmigrates into stallion novel, wakes up as villain, accidentally seduces hero). Then, we’ve got Transmigrating Into The Body Of The Heartthrob’s Cannon Fodder Childhood Friend (only modern webnovel I’ve read, young man transmigrates into beginning of gratuitous whump book, back in high school, and is determined to protect the protagonist from all the canonical suffering). Then there’s Pulling Together A Villain Reformation Strategy (guy transmigrates into story as the hero’s childhood friend who will eventually become his enemy and get killed, successfully acts out his part and dies, completely fails to realize he’s broken his friend’s heart in the process... and then wakes up in another character’s body). And then there’s The Villain’s White Lotus Halo (a transmigrator keeps bouncing from universe to universe as a cannon fodder villain, who gets like half a line before being killed. he tries to purchase an upgrade package so he can be a COOL villain instead, but accidentally gets sold a ‘white lotus halo’ package instead, so that no matter what he does, everyone is just DEEPLY moved by his appearance and is positive he did nothing wrong). All of those are EXTREMELY delightful. You may notice a running transmigration theme, which....... yeah, I think there are a TON of delightful stories in the webnovel scene that deal with this genre, which seem so rare in English language media.

Which makes a good transition point to what’s different about the cnovel scene! I’ve seen hardly any transmigration stories in English, and I’ve got a couple go-to examples for when I’m trying to explain it, but like. Only a couple. Which is such a shame! Like, there’s the default idea of ‘I was reading this book and then I woke up inside the book!!’ but it’s clearly such an established genre that people are playing with it in all kinds of interesting ways, like in The Villain’s White Lotus Halo or Heroic Death System setups. It’s kind of wild to me, because it seems like such a gimme for a nice easy story structure? Whatever kind of world you want to present, there’s no need to introduce it to the reader from the ground up, or find a good way to hook them in. Either the main character read the book in question and can explain the premise and why we should care in pov, or the main character is new to the universe too, and trying to find their own footing. I enjoy it a lot! I’ve sampled transmigration books that didn’t grab me, but I’ve sampled way more that did. 

And then, the one semi-technical answer I thought of to this question was the way that these novels tend to handle pov. It’s not a hard-and-fast rule that regular novels are restricted to one pov, or that pov can only change at hard breaks in the story, but if I saw a bog-standard american novel glide from pov to pov the way these novels regularly do, I would tend to wonder if it was sloppiness or a mistake, or I would grump to myself about how I don’t like omniscient third person pov. And I still don’t know exactly what I think about this, or why it’s different in here, but I’m pretty sure I like it a lot, especially for stories where the romance tends to play a large part :V 

I used to read a lot of Books About Writing, and read plenty of stuff about why you don’t DO this, but.... I like it! In dtppf, Jing-wang can’t talk, and when Li Yu is a fish, he can’t talk, and drifting from one of their perspectives to the other gives me lots of useful information about how they’re both feeling. Could that be conveyed through restricted pov? Maybe! But I’m typesetting the svsss extras right now, and I’m in the bing-ge vs bing-mei section, and we get a few brief flashes of bing-ge’s thoughts, and it’s so NICE. It’s information I would not have otherwise received, because Shen Qingqiu sure wasn’t going to notice it. But early in the story, that pov was withheld from me, which also made sense (or hua cheng’s pov was withheld from me FOREVER, which makes me so sad ;u;). There don’t seem to be any hard and fast rules, which makes me really nervous about writing fic and trying to match the style, but I do like it a lot! 

And I’m definitely not able to articulate this in the way that I would like to, or speak with any real authority (I’m not that widely read in the cnovel scene, and i’m not very genre-adventurous in english), but there’s something about the role that the romances play in these stories that’s different from what I’m used to expecting, and it’s VERY tasty to me. I only rarely read romance novels, because I’m not often interested in the romance as a primary plot driver, but the romances in these books play a more substantial role than I’m used to expecting. And I’m into it! It’s a balance closer to what I’d expect from, like, a shippy longform fanfic. Which covers a lot of ground and is NOT a precise measure, but there’s more emotional weight given to the romance than I would expect, but without the romance carrying ALL of the emotional weight, and it strikes a perfect balance for me in a way I’m not used to encountering. Now, some of this could definitely be due to me not finding the right authors, or right subgenres, or whatever. But in the genres I inhabit, it’s a subtle difference, but one I find compelling.

Oh, one last thing. The cultural differences, duh :P I’m only familiar with things like, say, ancient chinese court etiquette through a lens of fan-translated novels like these, and I didn’t grow up steeped in the culture in a way I’m used to the trappings of something like medieval european courts. But there’s a distinct flavor to the social dynamics of these novels, from the formal levels down to the casual, and I know it’s super intricate and detailed and that authors play with differing degrees of historical accuracy vs fictional fun, and I wish I was better equipped to speak to the nature of any of this. But I find it really compelling! I recognize that it’s only new to ME because I didn’t seek out chinese media before now. And, the point that I originally wanted to get to before I got super distracted: the flirting. The flirting and teasing are a very different flavor from what I would expect in most english language media, and I love it, even if I can’t speak to how much of that is purely cultural, and how much of it is like... the conventions of How Fiction Is Written varying by culture, if that makes sense. I adore seeing what flirting and affection and indulgence and attentiveness look like in different settings, and these books, with their heavy romantic focus, absolutely deliver.

[chloelucia13]

To Dream

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Prompt: After a case takes a turn for the worst, Spencer can’t help the doubt of your future riddling his brain. But when he closes his eyes, everything is okay. If only for a moment. Based off the song “Epiphany” by Taylor Swift

Warnings: angst, a little fluff, mentions of death, language, violence, gore, it’s just a ride y’all (italics are memories, words in bold are dreams)

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: So I’ve gotten sucked into the Criminal Minds fandom, and now it’s time to do what I do best: write sad fan fiction. I hope you all enjoy! My requests are open 24/7 and so is my taglist!

Tags: @sojournmichael​

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You’ve done this a million times. The case was so simple, so easy to dissect. 

Maybe you got cocky. Maybe you underestimated the unsub. Maybe this was all your fault.

Nausea churned in your stomach as you screeched to a halt in front of the old auto body shop. You knew that you would find a house of horrors as soon as you stepped inside, but the adrenaline in your veins told you to ignore your hesitation and the breakfast from this morning that was crawling up your esophagus.

“I’m going in,” you announced, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly throwing yourself out of the car. 

“Y/N, wait, you need backup,” Spencer shouted after you as you hurried to the entrance.

You stopped in front of the building, turning to give him a look. “Spence, you heard his message.” 

This man, this murderer, seemed to be infatuated with the media coverage of the case. You caught on to the fact that he was following along closely with the case after he sent a haunting letter to the precinct, detailing where he was and that he would give himself up to the police, as long as his legacy would not be forgotten.

 Turns out, the media coverage wasn’t the only thing he was infatuated with. 

It was realized at the beginning of researching this case that you fit his type to a t, but you never expected that it would become this.

His other request? That you were the only one to capture him and take him into custody.

Spencer opened his mouth to argue but you cut him off. “If anyone goes in there but me, it’ll be a bloodbath,” you reminded him.

He gulped, weighing his options for a moment. “Fine. The rest of the team is on the way. As soon as you’ve got him, radio to me and we’ll send everyone in,” he instructed, worry marring his features.

“Everything’s gonna be fine. I promise, doc.” You gave him a gentle smile before turning on your heel and entering the building, your gun drawn.

The smell of coagulated blood and decomposition hit your nostrils the moment you stepped inside, making your stomach lurch. You bit down on your cheek so harshly the taste of copper tinged your tongue.

“Randy McAllister, this is the FBI,” you announced your presence, edging around the corner into the main part of the garage.

“Ah, Agent Y/L/N, I thought you’d never make it,” a voice hummed to the right of you.You turned your head to see him standing with a gun in his right hand, a woman on her knees in front of him.

“Let her go, Randy. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

He chuckled. “Oh darling, she has everything to do with this. She’s my replacement for you, can’t you tell?” He glided the tip of his gun against her forehead, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Then give me her, and you can get what you want.”

“You really thought I was gonna be that easy?” He clicked his tongue. “Take off your vest.”

You scoffed. “I’m not taking off my vest.”

he clenched his jaw, hovering his finger over the trigger. “Take off your vest or I’ll blow her fucking brains out!”

You knew not to question him. He’d done it five times already, so what’s stopping him from doing it again.

You slowly slid your gun into your holster before ripping the velcro apart, pulling your kevlar vest off and setting it on the ground. “There, are you happy?”

He grinned, baring his teeth like a rabid dog, before pushing the girl forward. You bent down and helped her up before directing her to run, waiting until you could no longer hear her footsteps before you drew your gun once more.

“Alright, Randy. I did what you wanted. Now drop your weapon and put your hands above your head.”

His grin slowly fell, letting his gun clatter to the ground before he rose his hands in the air, surrendering. 

You stepped behind him, yanking his hands behind his back and holding them together with one hand while you searched for your cuffs with the other. 

Everything moved so suddenly. 

A sharp crack echoed through the garage as he slammed his head back into yours, shattering the cartilage in your nose. You stumbled back, clutching onto your nose as you tried to regain your balance. 

He grabbed you by your shirt and threw you to the ground, climbing on top of you and wrapping a hand around your throat. You clawed at his hand and kicked with all your might, finally landing one solid blow to his groin. 

He swayed, and you gathered enough strength to roll him over, pinning him to the ground. 

But you didn’t account for his hands.

As you held his shoulders against the concrete, a shot rang out.

Your abdomen felt warm as the rest of your body felt as if it was stuck in a freezer. Slowly, you rolled off of Randy and laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling.

Voices began to echo around you, a muffled sound that mimicked the effect of your head being held underwater. “Agent down, we need a medic!”

Your eyelids fluttered open and closed at a snail-like pace, eyes flickering around the room to try and figure out what was going on.

And then they shot open wide as the burning sensation began, a feeling as if your organs were being shredded apart with red hot knives.

“Y/N, what happened?” 

Your eyes finally focused on Spencer’s face hovering above you, tears in his eyes. “Tis just a flesh wound,” you whispered, your lungs burning.

He glanced between you and the bullet wound in your chest. “Are you quoting Monty Python right now?”

You let out a chuckle, feeling tears begin to sting your eyes. “It’s what I do when I’m panicking. You should know that by now.” Slowly, you reached your hand down to where you felt the pain resonate, eyes growing wide when you felt something wet soak your hand. “Oh my god.”

Tears began streaking down his face, his lip caught in-between his teeth to keep from crying out. 

Without thinking, you reached your hands up to wipe away his tears, a look of terror residing on your face when a dark crimson smeared across his cheeks. “Oh god,” you gasped out, moving to pull your sleeves over your hands and try to wipe away the blood. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The blood smeared around his cheek, and you felt the room spinning around you. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. Calm down.”

You nodded, desperately trying to gasp in a solid breath, but to no avail. A sob left your lips, and you felt a rush of blood pour down your sides. “I-I can’t.” You shook your head. “I think... I think I’m bleeding out, doc.”

“No, no, don’t say that. You’re gonna be just fine.” He pulled away from your gaze for a moment to search around. “Where the fuck is the medic?!”

“Spence.”

His eyes fell back onto your face, hazel irises boring into yours as tears dripped down his face. You dedicated his face to memory, trying to remember the way his skin felt under your fingertips, the gentle scratch of his stubble, the way his hair would glide between your fingertips, worried that it you would never be able to experience it again.

“I love you,” you choked out, sniffling. “I love you so much.”

He nodded, a crease forming between his brows as he tried his hardest to contain his sobs. “I love you too. So much.”

He felt as if he died when he watched your eyelids slowly flutter closed, and then stopped moving altogether. He continued applying pressure to your wound, feeling your blood soak through his windbreaker and onto his hands.

Suddenly he was shoved away, and he watched in a daze as a group of medics quickly checked your vitals before lifting you on a stretcher and rushing you out of the building. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled behind them, clambering into the back of the ambulance.

They attached an oxygen mask with a bag valve, attempting to pump oxygen into your lungs. He watched as your chest rose and fell, wishing it wasn’t being controlled by someone else.

The tips of your hair twirled between his fingers, a dazed look on his face as his eyes tracked each breath you took. Breathe in, gentle rise. Breathe out, gentle droop. He felt the soft rush of air against his skin, making his heart race under your cheek. 

He didn’t dare move, too worried that if he did, you would wake up. It was rare that he would see you in such a peaceful state, so fragile and unguarded. He wouldn’t dare ruin it. He never knew when it would be the last time he could witness it.

“Her vitals are crashing, she’s going into V FIB!” an EMT shouted, startling him back to the present. “Bring me the AED.” He watched as they applied two wired pads to your chest and turned up a dial, signaling before delivering an electric shock. Your body flinched from the shock, only for it to collapse back down and lay flat. 

He felt like he was going to vomit. His hands were clutching onto your free one, unable to tear his eyes away from your ashen face. 

He couldn’t decide if it would be better if you were in a black void, unaware of anything that was going on, or if you could feel and hear every single thing that was occurring. He mostly just hoped that you weren’t scared.

But the only thought on his mind, when they finally arrived to the ER and he watched you get rushed into the OR, was that he couldn’t live without you.

*** “Spence, you can head home. I’ll take over,” Emily instructed as she stepped into the waiting room, nudging his shoulder slightly.

He just shook his head, staring at the glass windows in front of him that peered into the hallways of the hospital. 

“You need to get some rest,” she persisted, sitting down next to him. “Just go lay down for a few hours, I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“I-I can’t just leave. If something happens...” Spencer mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn’t tell if he was being defensive, or if he was trying to desperately hold himself together. 

“She’s gonna be just fine. She’s a fighter.”

He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes falling closed for a moment. “The survival rate after going into V FIB is 50%.”

“Well, 50% seems like a pretty good probability to me.”

“That doesn’t account for the blood loss or oxygen deprivation. She lost over four pints of blood. The body goes into hypovolemic after losing only two pints. Any more than that, and the body will most likely fall into a coma.” 

Now he understood how everyone else felt when he spewed out facts. It was torturous, unwilling to allow him to slip away from the predicament for even a moment.

The image of your body bleeding out on the dirty floor was imprinted in his mind. Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, there was no way that he could ever forget it.

Emily pursed her lips. “But she’ll be alive. She might be banged up, but she isn’t gone. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You know, if Y/N were here right now, she’d be yelling at you to go and take a nap.”

He let out a watery chuckle at that, sniffling slightly. “I can’t leave, Emily. Not until I hear something from the doctors.”

She sighed. “Fine. I’m gonna set a timer on my phone for 20 minutes, and you will sleep until that timer goes off. If you get up any time during that, I’m restarting the timer. Deal?”

“Emily-”

“Spencer, you know better than anybody the effects of sleep deprivation on a person. You’re not going to be any use here if you’re tired.”

He clenched his jaw, already feeling his eyelids begin to droop. “Fine. But only 20 minutes.”

***

He never thought that golden could be a feeling, until he met you. His whole being, his whole soul felt as if it was dripping with the warm yellow hue.

He may have felt golden, but you were golden. You were the sun to him, something that he treasured with his whole being but worried he would be blinded by your beauty, turned into mush from your warmth. He still risked it, staring at you for so long so he could memorize every aspect of you before his sight left him.

Your scent of sunshine and sweet morning dew lingered on everything he owned, and he was addicted to it. He could smell it now, swooning over it.

“Your hair’s getting shaggy, doc.”

Spencer hummed, fluttering his eyes open and seeing that his head was laying in your lap, the two of you perched underneath a tree in the park down the road from your shared apartment.

“Yeah? You want me to cut it?” he teased, shifting slightly to look up at you.

You grinned, ruffling his hair slightly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Never.”

His eyes flickered over your face, taking in every small detail. “You’re so beautiful.”

You scoffed, gently gliding your finger along his jawline. “I can say the same for you, pretty boy.”

“I’m serious.” He huffed, sitting up and taking your hand in his, staring directly into your eyes for a moment. He mimicked your ministrations, taking his finger and tracing along your collarbone, against the angle of your jawbone, down the slope of your nose, and down the dip of your cupid’s bow. His eyes followed his finger, a small wrinkle forming between his brows. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

A grin settled on your face, gently pulling his fingers from your skin and pressing your lips to his fingertips. “What’s got you being so sappy?”

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly before touching his lips to yours. “I’m so in love with you.”

A pleased sigh escaped your lips, and your eyes searched his. “I’m so in love with you too. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?” You shifted into his lap, entwining your arms around his neck and playing with his hair.

“I...” He gulped, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Spencer.” The corners of your lips crooked into a frown and you rested a hand on his cheek. “What makes you think I’ll ever leave you?”

“Y/N, you’re dying.”

“What do you mean? I’m right here. And I know you’re not a medical doctor, but I know you’re smart enough to know when someone is alive.”

He shook his head, sniffling. “No, you-you’re laying on an operating table right now. This isn’t real. None of this is real.”

“It’s real enough, isn’t it?” 

He shot up with a gasp, immediately burying his head in his hands and letting out a shuddering breath.

“Spence, that was only eleven min-” Emily began.

He ignored her, pushing himself to his feet and propelling himself towards the bathrooms. He stumbled into the bathroom and gripped onto the edge of the sink, sucking in deep breaths until his lungs burned. Bile rose in his throat and he willed himself to keep it down, gaining enough strength to turn on the cold water and splash his face. 

A hand touched his shoulder and he stood up straight in a panic. “Calm down, man, it’s just me,” Derek consoled, holding his hands up. “Are you okay?”

Spencer shook his head fervently, running his hands over his face before pulling them through his hair. “I can’t lose her.”

Derek reached forward, grabbing Spencer’s shoulder and tugging him into a tight hug. ‘’You’re not gonna lose her. She’s strong, and she’s stubborn as all hell. If she’s gonna die, it’s gonna be by her own terms.”

And Spencer sobbed.

***

It had been over four hours, and the entire team still had yet to hear anything from the doctors. The sun had already set, and almost everyone had headed home for the night.

But Spencer was still sat in the waiting room, eyelids drooping lower and lower with each passing moment of silence.

He wanted so badly to sleep, to go back to that peaceful moment in his mind where he could lay with you and forget anything bad ever happened, but he couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t let himself succumb to a fantasy when in reality, you were laying on an operating table with multiple surgeons working to keep you alive. 

“Mr. Reid?”

Spencer rose to his feet at once, all feelings of exhaustion fleeing his body and being replaced with pure adrenaline. “Yes?”

The doctor gave him a curt nod before directing him into the hall. Spencer followed behind him and stood in a nervous silence as he watched her flip through a clipboard.

“She’s alive, and she’s in stable condition,” she explained, looking away from her clipboard.

He felt as if he was floating, a high he never even imagined was possible. 

“But she is in a coma, and probably will remain that way for the next few days.”

And there it was.

“But-But you think she’ll wake up?” Spencer rushed out, shifting from foot to foot.

“Definitely. Her body needs time to rest, but she’ll wake up as soon as she’s ready.” 

Spencer let out a sigh of relief, a small smile residing on his lips. “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re a lucky man. We almost lost her, but she fought with all she had. She wanted to stay here.”

He knew that her claims were impossible, but there was an inkling in the back of his mind that maybe she was right. So, instead of responding, he just nodded. “Can-” He cleared his throat. “Can I see her?”

The doctor pressed her lips together in thought for a moment before nodding. “Right this way.”

He followed her through the hospital halls, leading him through the winding maze until they stopped in front of room 112. She gestured to the door before retreating, leaving him alone.

All attempts to catch his breath were futile for the moment he stepped through the door, all the air left his lungs. He couldn’t tell if he was staring at your sleeping form in horror or fondness as he inched towards your bedside, settling into the chair next to you.

“You’re alive,” were the only words he could formulate, repeating them like a mantra while he took your hand in his and pressed feather-light kisses to your knuckles. 

 Finally, he let his head rest against the thin blanket on your bed, and his eyes drooped closed. 

Poppies were your favorite flower. They symbolized peace, something neither of you were familiar with due to your jobs.

Spencer never understood how a flower could symbolize something so complex until he opened his eyes.

He was completely, utterly at peace.

You stood in a field of bright red poppies, a white dress cascading around your frame and a megawatt smile on your face.

Sunshine. Golden.

As if out of a scene from a romance movie (one that you probably forced him to watch), he ran through the fields, coming towards you. Once you were within reach, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist and clung onto you like a vice.

A breathless laugh fell from your lips as you returned the hug, letting your arms hook around his neck. “Hi, my love,” you whispered.

He knew none of this was real. He knew that every memory of you was being pulled from his brain all at once and letting him feel a moment of peace.

But he also knew that he wanted to stay here, at least for a little while.

“Hi, my love,” he echoed, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Are you alright?” You pulled away slightly, searching his eyes as you brought one hand to cup his face. “You’re crying.”

“I’m just fine.” He gave you a smile, gently taking your hand from his face and placing your hand in his own. “I’m perfect.”

“Are you sure? Did I do-”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, squeezing your hand gently. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, letting your shoulders drop. “Sorry, I just... I know you’ve been feeling sad lately. I just want to make sure it isn’t because of me.”

His brows furrowed together, worry lines settling on his forehead. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because every time you look at me, you cry.”

Those words made his heart drop to his stomach. He knew that this was all in his mind, but it was still your voice. He felt all the hurt, all the guilt. 

“I...” A small sob bubbled in his throat, and he pulled you back into his tight embrace. “I just don’t want to lose you. I’m not ready yet.”

You nodded, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt and holding him as close as you possibly could. “Well, right now, you have me. Is that not enough?”

“But it’s not real. I need the real you.”

“Then you have to wake up, my love.”

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up

“Spencer, wake up.”

His eyes flew open, a hand immediately coming up to rub at them. “What?” he grumbled, holding back a yawn.

“God, I’ve tried waking you up for the past five minutes.”

His eyes flickered up to see a pair of Y/E/C eyes staring back at him.

“You’re awake.”

“I can say the same thing about you, sleepyhead,” you teased, weakly patting his hand. 

“Oh my god. You’re okay.” He pushed himself to his feet and hovered his hands over your face, fearful that if he touched you, you would disappear.

“I’m okay, doc.” Your words were slurred, but that was expected. He still knew what you were saying, and even if he didn’t, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were awake, that you were alive.

He let out an incredulous laugh as he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You hands slowly reached up, letting your fingers graze along his cheek. “Hi, my love.”

“Hi, my love.” He grinned at you. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be awake for a few more days, at least.”

“I guess I just had to wake up. I couldn’t stand being gone from you that long.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I-If I wasn’t so cocky, none of this would have happened. You all wouldn’t be wondering whether I’m gonna live or not. I wouldn’t be stuck in a hospital bed with a hole in my chest. You... You wouldn’t be crying.” You gestured to the tears on his cheeks as tears began to stream down your own. “I wouldn’t be crying.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips to the back of it. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever blame yourself for this.”

You nodded with a sniffle, pulling his hand to your lips and reciprocating his actions. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, letting yourselves take in everything that was happening.

“Once you get released from the hospital and you’re healed, do you want to get married?”

Your eyes widened in shock at his words, searching his face to make sure that he was being honest. “Are you proposing?”

He shrugged, feeling his cheeks begin to burn. “I-I mean I don’t have a ring yet but... I think I am.”

“Well, if you think you’re proposing, I think I’ll say yes.”

Both of your cheeks ached from how wide you were smiling, that smile never faltering when he pressed his lips to yours and let them linger. 

“Can we have poppies at our wedding?” you mumbled against his lips.

He chuckled, nodding.

Pure sunshine.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Destiny

Ch 2- Touche, Kiddo.

Chapter Summary: Tony and Natasha take Katie back to the first of several key points of impact in her life- the day Tony returned from Afghanistan…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So these chapters contain flashbacks of sorts- but they’re not flashbacks as Katie is watching the events unfold in front of her-a “Time heist” of sorts. However, to keep it clear and hopefully not confusing, the events she is watching are depicted in itallics instead of me trying to keep calling her 2010 v 2030 Katie…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Destiny Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You’re dead.” Katie spluttered, looking at Tony.

“Yeah, so they tell me.” He mused, taking a look around, observing his surroundings. “Which is kind of a bummer.” “So what the fuck is this?” She swallowed, shaking her head. “Am I dreaming? Having some kind of mental breakdown hallucination? Or are you a ghost? And where the fuck have you been for the past seven years, asshole?”

“I wasn’t needed.” Tony shrugged. “But, this is your party so to speak. I can be whatever you want to be if it makes you feel better. I mean, you did have strange dreams at times when you were younger. I distinctly recall one about a giant white rabbit chasing you through the streets of London with an ice cream cone as a hat.” “I was high when I fell asleep.” Katie shrugged, then she gave a moan. “What am I doing talking to you? This is insane, I need to wake up.” She closed her eyes, pinched herself, yelping at the pain. When she opened them, she saw Tony leaning against the tree trunk, one knee bent as his shoe pressed flat against the trunk behind him, arms folded. “Yeah, sorry Kiddo. Still here.” “This is all inside my head.” Katie took a deep breath “This is all inside my head, this isn’t real.” “What was it that Dumblebee dude said? You know the Wizard from Harry Potter?” Tony clicked the fingers on his right hand, pointing at Katie as she rolled her eyes.

“Dumbledor."

“Whatever, the point is what he said. You know, that quote you loved ‘Of Course this is happening inside your head, but why on Earth should that mean that it is not real?’ You can’t have forgotten, you had it stencilled on the wall in your apartment.”

“I haven’t, trust me.” Katie said softly. “It’s Jamie’s favourite too. He has it above his bed, Steve did it for him along with a painting of the Hogwarts Castle"

“Wow, he read them all already?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “He’s smart.” Katie smiled. “A real bookworm, and an artist. Announced the other day he wants to write and illustrate kid’s books now, not be a Baseball player anymore. Steve insists there’s time for him to come to his senses but…” 

"Cap still with the giddy optimism huh?" Tony arched an eyebrow and she felt her eye begin to prick, and that familiar stinging sensation associated with trying to stave off tears filled the upper inside of her nose and she looked at Tony before she rushed forward and he stood up straight. At the last minute, before she threw herself at him she stopped dead and reached out with a shaky hand, her palm pressing against the pin striped material of his waistcoat. He was solid, warm, she could feel his heart beating. 

“I-“ she looked up at him, the tears once more pouring from her eyes, “I don’t want this to be in my head."

Tony smiled, his own eyes brimming with tears as Katie slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. She breathed in his familiar cologne, a smell she hadn’t forgotten but one that hadn’t filled her senses in a long time. His hands gently rubbed at her back as he held her close, one hand creeping upwards where it rest on the back of her hair as he dropped a kiss to her head. His familiar fatherly-brotherly touch was seeping into her bones, quelling the deep, dark aching she’d been feeling since, well, she couldn’t remember. Steve was her home, her safe place, her rock, there was no denying that, but Tony was her childhood pillar of strength. He was the man that had band aided her knees and palms, tucked her in, fought the monsters under her bed and for that reason, he would always be a source of comfort and strength.

Even if this was just some whacked out hallucination.

And then, she felt another emotion. An emotion she remembered feeling before many a times watching Steve catapult himself off buildings, bridges, hanging off helicopters before dropping into rivers. It was anger. Anger at the self-sacrificing nature that drove her soldier to act first and think later, but she was feeling it here at her brother. Unable to quell it she pulled back and her right hand laid a stinging slap to Tony’s left cheek. His head snapped to the right and he gave an angry yell.

“Jesus Kiddo! What the fuck was that for?” “For dying, dickwad!” She yelled, the tears falling down her face. “You died and you left me!” “It wasn’t like I had a choice.” Tony sighed, dropping his head. “This was always the end I was going to get, not the end I wanted but…”

“She took it well then.” A voice drawled and Katie stiffened in her brothers’ arms, and looked up at him, eyes wide as she turned slowly to see another familiar face looking back at her, green eyes sparkling, red hair shining in the stray rays of sunlight that crept into the thicket as it fell forward around her face and shoulders over the top of a black leather jacket with a bounce Katie hadn’t seen for years.

“Nat,” she swallowed, wiping her eyes, “you look-”

“Yeah, better.” Natasha shrugged, “Whatever this is, it took us back to a time before it all went to shit. I think this was my hair in 2015 or 16…” “Leipzig you looked like that.” Tony mused as Katie stepped away from him, to scan Natasha up and down. “I, on the other hand, I’m not sure. But I look good so…” “Modest as always.” Katie grumbled as she stopped in front of Natasha, before they embraced as well.

How’s my little man?” Natasha asked and Katie smiled.

“Not so little anymore. He’s like up to here now.”  She held her hand up to a point at the top of her rib-cage. “Growing like a weed and he looks just like Steve.”

“Yeah, we actually know.” Tony cut in. “We know about all five of them, she’s just making conversation. I gotta say, I’m kinda liking the fact Emmy hooked up with Parker. They'll make cute babies"

"Oh God, don't. Steve's already freaking out about them wanting to move in together." Katie laughed and Tony grinned before he pondered something.

"Henry, that wasn't after Hank Pym was it?" He asked and Katie shook her head.

"It was a name Steve liked. I picked his middle. And it was the other way for Flossie."

Natasha snorted. “I gotta say you gave Aurora a perfect name. After a princess.” “The Star Spangled Diva." Katie shook her head before she grinned. “She’s awesome, they all are.” “She’s a Stark that's for sure.” Tony smiled proudly.

“Steve says that. Says she looks like me and has your attitude. Drives him insane.” Tony smirked. “Good to know. Been dead seven years and still bugging the crap out of Spangles.” He nodded, clapping his hand together, rubbing his palms against one another in glee.

Katie looked at her brother for a moment before she shook her head. “Okay, so is this the part where the two of you give me some kind of pep talk, you know about the kids and my outburst before or…” “Well, we could.” Tony wrinkled his nose, “but you always responded better to visuals, so we’re gonna show you.” “Tony I have no desire to see any of that again.” She shook her head. “I already know I fucked up.” “We’re not here about the fact you cussed out Jamie.” Nat said gently

Katie frowned. “Then what is this?”

“We’re more concerned with the fact you don’t seem to understand how much you matter to everyone.” The red head continued. “What was it you said before? Something along the lines of not seeing the point of being in their lives?”

Katie looked down at her feet.

“You’re human, Kiddo.” Tony said “Humans are flawed. They fuck up. Some of us less than others, granted.” Katie raised her head, cocking an eyebrow at Tony. “You’re such a conceited bastard.” “True.” Tony nodded, “But all things considered I think I have a right to be. I mean my best achievement is stood right in front of me.” He shrugged. “I’d like to include Moo in that but, well Pep’s done the hard work there really, bringing her up. You on the other hand, well that was all me.” He stepped forward and took both her hands. “And I’m smug as fuck about it, because you’re an amazing woman Kiddo, you just need reminding of that fact so we can get you over this sudden lack of self-worth you seem to be displaying.” Katie shook her head, tears forming in her eyes, “Tone…” “It’s true.” He shrugged, letting go of her hands. “But, you’ll see for yourself. Come on.”

He turned and started walking up the path towards the Memorial Gardens and Katie watched him before she turned to Natasha. Nat nodded her head towards Tony’s back and with a shrug Katie turned to follow him.

“Might as well see what whacked out journey my subconscious has planned.” She muttered to herself, following her brother as he walked ahead of her slightly. As they emerged from the thicket of trees, Katie noticed the Gardens were completely empty and it was eerily quiet. Eventually, Tony stopped by an orange Audi and Katie shook her head.

“What?” Tony asked. “I liked this colour.”

Natasha walked passed Katie and opened the door, folding the seat forward so she could slip into the back. Katie watched Tony as he settled in the driver’s side before she took another look around. The sun was starting to set, sending streaks of lilac and burnt red across the sky, and with another deep breath she climbed in and shut the door. Tony fired the engine and the familiar sounds of AC/DCs Back in Black hit her ears. Despite herself she gave a smile, glancing out of the window as Tony drove the car forward, the music filled her senses.

Suddenly, she frowned. Her head flicking to look out of the window to her side before she turned back to the windscreen as she recognised her surroundings which seemed to have changed when she blinked. “How…”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” Tony looked at her as she turned her head to meet his eyes.

“No, we’re in fucking California!” She practically exploded. “How? That’s not possible!”

“Neither is seeing dead people but you’re managing that just fine.” Natasha drawled. Katie ran her hands over her face letting out a groan.

“I’m tripping. I have to be. Did someone spike my coffee before?”

Tony smirked as he pulled the car off the road onto the Military air base and drew up behind a row of blacked out SUVs, each flanked by an armed guard.

“Wait,” Katie leaned forward, looking at three familiar figures waiting on the tarmac as a huge C17 taxied towards them. “This, this is the day you came back from Afghanistan.”

Tony nodded as Katie opened the door and climbed out. She took a few steps forward stopping in front of the car bonnet. Natasha stood by her left, Tony by her right as she watched the aircraft come to a stop.

“Come on.” Tony strode forwards. “You know how I like to make an entrance, be kind of cool for me to actually watch it for once.” They weaved their way through the line of SUVs and Katie paused, stopping. Curiously, she cocked her head to one side and waved her hand in front of one of the guard’s faces. He didn’t even blink.

“They can’t see you.” Natasha informed. “Think of it as being like A Christmas Carol…”

Kate looked at her, before she took a deep breath. “So not quite a Time Heist?”

Nat smirked and nodded. “Almost, but not quite, no.”

“Fucking hell.” Katie shook her head and turned to make her way over to Tony who was now stood just behind Pepper.

“God her ass looks great.” He mumbled. Katie gave a snort as she stopped behind her 2010 self.

“Was I really that skinny?” She muttered, taking in her frame. Her waist was ridiculously tiny, emphasised by the sharp, black tailored suit she wore, her hair pinned back into a bun. She moved round to the side, taking in her profile. Her eyes were shining, her jaw tense as she held back the tears. “Mind you, I don’t think I ate properly for the entire time you were gone.” “You’re not exactly fat now.” Tony scoffed. Katie ignored him, her eyes still fixed on herself. As she watched, 2010 Katie turned to Pepper who looked at her, the pair of them sharing a smile as Katie extended her hand, Pepper taking it, squeezing her fingers.

The tars of happiness trickled down her face, as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive and all things considered he looked pretty good. Dressed in a sharp grey suit, brown shirt and a brown tie sporting white polka dots. His face was a little bruised but his goatee was well groomed and he still wore that determined, arrogant look she knew so well. As Rhodey helped him down the ramp, he waved away the gurney that was being wheeled towards him and unable to stand it any longer, Katie shot forward. Tony was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey, Kiddo.” He said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking asshole!” She sobbed. “Next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” He chuckled as she pulled back and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

“It was you know.” Tony mumbled and Katie turned her head away from watching her past reunion with her brother to look at him. “But there was one thing that kept me going in that hell hole. And that was getting back to you. I couldn’t leave you. Not after what happened to Mom and Dad.” Katie swallowed and turned back to see herself and her brother walking towards Pepper, her hand linked in his as they stopped.

“Your eyes are red.” Tony looked at Pepper. “A few tears for your long-lost boss?”

“Tears of joy.” Pepper smiled back. “I hate job hunting.” “Yeah, vacation's over.” Tony said simply, and he headed past Pepper towards Happy. Katie watched as the two men embraced and she turned to Pepper.

“Twenty bucks says the first place he goes is for a cheeseburger.”

“You know me, knew me, whatever, so well.” Tony looped an arm round Katie as they watched their 2010 selves climb into the car and set off.

“I didn’t even try and convince you otherwise.” She sighed, looking at him. “I knew you’d refuse to go to the hospital. I didn’t see the immediate press-conference coming though. That was certainly a curve ball.”

“Yeah, it was an interesting one for us too at SHIELD.” Nat mused. “As soon as Fury got the call about how you’d escaped and that you’d called said conference he dispatched Coulson.”

“God.” Katie blew out a breath. “This was like twenty years ago now. I was so young, a baby.”

“Well, now you don’t look a day over forty-six.” Tony said, patting her shoulder. She glared at him and he chuckled “Come on.”

Katie cast her eyes once more at the tail of the Rolls which was heading over the airfield tarmac and the three of them walked back to Tony’s Audi.

**** “Higher Daddy!” Harry giggled as Steve pushed him on the swing lazily with one arm, all the time keeping one eye on Rori who was currently with Jamie, the pair of them hanging off the climbing frame upside down whilst Stark sat at the bottom, barking at them. Whilst all his kids seemed to have inherited some of the serum’s benefits in that they were rarely sick and on the whole pretty robust, they were still fifty-percent ‘normal’ for want of a better word, and Steve’s heart was constantly in his mouth when they did stuff like that. To his horror, he watched Rori pull herself up and then tuck herself into a ball, flipping herself backwards off the frame, landing on her feet.

“That’s how to stick a landing.” She looked at Jamie, her tongue poking out at him before she trotted back over to her Dad ignoring her brother’s shout of “loser…” as she headed off.

“Can you not do that?” Steve sighed exasperatedly as she stopped by his side.

“Do what?” She looked up at him, her green eyes frowning a little. “Throw yourself off stuff.” “Momma says you did it all the time.” Rori looked at him “She said you threw yourself out of an elevator with her on your back.” “That, that was different.” He finished lamely.

“How?” “Because I had no choice.” “Why didn’t you just push the button to take the elevator down?” Rori looked at him like he was an idiot and he groaned.

“Rori, just, oh, I dunno, go and play on the slide or something. And by that I mean slide down it, not jump off it.”

“Hey Dad?” Jamie appeared by his side and Steve looked down at him. “You wanna play catch?”

“Why don’t you play with Stark?” Steve suggested. “I need to keep an eye on Harry and Flossie, buddy.”

“Stark just runs off with the ball. He never brings it back.”

“Well, try teaching him.” “I have.” Jamie whined.

“Jamie, don’t start.” Steve looked at him sternly “You’re skating on thin ice as it is. I’ll bring you out to play ball just the two of us one night next week, I promise.” “I’ll play.” Rori offered. Steve could see Jamie was considering his options before he shrugged.

“Okay.”

The two of them headed off towards the small sandlot to the side of the park, Steve watching as he continued to push Harry in the swing, his gaze then turning to Florence who was asleep in the stroller. Eventually, Harry got bored and wanted to play on the slide so Steve lifted him out and they made their way over, Harry’s hand wrapped around Steve’s as he pushed Florence with the other. He watched Harry as he climbed the steps and then moved to the bottom of the slide, crouching as the little boy whizzed down laughing, Steve smiled as he caught him and tossed him into the air slightly.

“Again!” Harry demanded. Steve let him down and he repeated the motion a few times before Steve checked his watch. It was getting a little late, granted it was a Saturday but he didn’t want to deal with the fall out of them all being over tired and cranky over dinner. There had been enough tantrums and tears today.

“Kids, think we should head back.” He said as he approached the older two. Jamie looked at him, about to protest and Steve glared at him.

“What did I say before?”

Jamie took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

Together they walked back, Jamie and Rori a little ahead as Steve kept pace with Harry. They took the path through one of the green parks that led to their road and Rori stopped at a bank of wild flowers.

“Hey, can we pick some for Momma?” She asked, turning to look at Steve. “The blue ones are pretty.”

Steve smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Make momma happy?” Harry asked, looking up and Steve nodded.

“Yeah, yeah it will.”

Steve watched as Jamie and Rori headed off to a patch to the left to pick a few and Steve crouched down consulting with Harry as to which ones he wanted to get. He helped him pick a few before he turned back to see Jamie and Rori clutching handfuls each.

“You leave any for the bees?” He quipped and Rori looked at him.

“There are looooads.” She gestured with her hands, giving an eye roll that was ridiculously comparable to those of her mother.

“Well that’s me told.” Steve arched an eyebrow. “Okay, give them here.”

He took them gently, adding them to Harry’s and he laid them on the little shelf at the bottom of the stroller before the five of them made their way back home.

**** Tony parked the Audi haphazardly in a space outside the Stark Industries HQ main building.

“Nice parking.” Katie quipped.

“It’s our company, I own this parking lot. Well I did. And besides, like you keep saying, this isn’t real so what does it matter?” He asked as the three of them exited the car. Katie glanced over to where Obadiah Stane was waiting with the press and their employees, laughing loudly and generally acting like the big shot.

“Dick.” She mumbled. “I never liked him.”

“Yeah, I know. You told me a lot. And it turns out you were right about him.” Tony shrugged. “Who knew?”

She snorted and Natasha gave a chuckle. “I’ll leave you two to this one.” She said gently, leaning against the car, folding her arms. Katie looked at her, before she turned and followed Tony as he strode forward, watching as the Rolls pulled up. The people stood round the turning circle all started to applause and when the car stopped and Obadiah strode forwards, arms open.

“Look at this!” He opened the door, presenting Tony to everyone and pulling him into a hug “We were going to meet at the hospital.”

“No, I'm fine.” Tony said, turning to Happy who offered him the Burger King bag from which Tony pulled another cheeseburger.

“Look at you!” Obadiah chuckled “You had to have a burger, yeah?”

“Which reminds me,” Katie nudged Pepper as they walked around the back of the car, “you owe me a twenty.” Pepper snorted and shook her head, “come on.”

Katie and Pepper headed inside, following Tony and Obadiah who were chatting away, the cameras flashing as they walked through the cool, marble clad reception area of HQ where the podium that the press conferences were held from stood to the side. Katie and Pepper stopped, Katie taking a breath as she watched Tony walking through the group of people, speaking to various until a voice by her side made her jump.

“Miss Potts, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Katie turned to see an unassuming man, with short dark hair and a kind face dressed in a black suit, a Visitor Tag attached to his breast pocket. She looked at him for a second before her attention turned back to Tony who was busy talking to a woman in a red suit.

“I’m not part of the press conference,” Pepper spoke to the man, “but it’s about to begin right now.”

“I'm not a reporter. I'm Agent Phil Coulson, with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” The man spoke and that got Katie’s attention. She turned to look at him, smiling.

“That's quite a mouthful.” She grinned and Agent Coulson gave her a smile.

“I know. We're working on it.” He smiled as Pepper took the business card he was holding. Katie arched an eyebrow and smiled, once more turning her eyes back to her brother.

“You know, we've been approached already by the DOD, the FBI, the CIA...” Pepper continued and Coulson cut her off gently.

“We're a separate division with a more specific focus. We need to debrief Mr. Stark about the circumstances of his escape.”

Katie turned to him, frowning and wondering exactly how they knew about it. Reading her facial expression, Coulson shrugged slightly and Pepper nodded. “I'll put something in the book, shall I?”

“Thank you.”

Katie was about to quiz him more when she heard Tony calling for her. She looked at her brother and he gestured with his head.

“Excuse me.” She strode forward and Tony put an arm round her shoulder.

“I need to speak to you, before I talk to the world.”

“God, I remember this like it was yesterday.” Katie turned to Tony as they followed in the wake of themselves, everyone parting as Tony steered his sister towards the little break out room at the back, which housed the coffee and vending machines.

“Yup.” Tony said as they ducked inside the room with themselves. “It was a pretty life defining moment. For me anyway…”

“It was for both of us.” Katie watched as 2010 Tony clicked he door shut. “This is where it all began. Iron Man, SHIELD, all of it.”

Tony smiled and they both turned their heads to watch their past selves.

“I’m shutting down the Weapons Manufacturing.” Tony said and Katie frowned.

“What? Why?”

“I saw out there what our weapons are being used for.” Tony shook his head. “I don’t know how those terrorists got hold of them, because I sure as hell didn’t approve any bids to that particular group, did the Commercial Department negotiate them without me, using your delegated authority?”

“Of course not!”  Katie replied indignantly “What do you take me for? They must have been traded on the black market…”

“And that is exactly my point!” Tony nodded at her. “We can’t police it all. So I want to shut it down. Focus our efforts elsewhere.”

“What happened to you out there Tone?” Katie considered her brother for a moment and he took a deep breath.

“For the first time I met my Jiminy Cricket.” He shrugged. “Tony Stark doesn’t want to be the most famous mass murderer in the history of America anymore.”

Katie frowned. “That Vanity Fair article. You read it?”

“Of course I read it, it was about me.” He shrugged “The reporter…erm..”

“Everhart?” Katie looked at him. “You forgot her name after you banged her as well?”

“Whatever, that’s not important.” Tony waved her off “But Kiddo, all those lives we’ve saved by advancing medical technology and the starvation prevented from intelli-crops, she mentioned none of that.”

“Because that doesn’t sell papers.” Katie shook her head “Whereas dubbing us Merchants of Death does.”

“War profiteering she called it. And she was right.” Tony implored “You know, Dad always said that peace means…”

“Having a bigger stick than the other guy, yeah, you told me” Katie looked at her brother.

“And it’s a great line coming from the guy selling the sticks.” Tony shook his head. “But what if no one was selling the sticks?”

Katie took a deep breath. “People would then just make their own sticks, and they’d be harder to police.”

“But what if I told you I had a pretty big assed stick of my own to stop that? The biggest stick anyone could have.”

“I’m not-” Katie sighed, rubbing at her temple. “Tony you’ve lost me”

“I wouldn’t have escaped if it hadn’t been for my cell mate out there. He saved my life,” Tony tapped his chest, “not only did he build an electromagnet to keep a bunch of shrapnel from shredding my heart, he sacrificed himself so I could escape. His last words were an instruction, not to waste my life, Kiddo, and I have no intention of doing so anymore.” He looked down at his feet taking a deep breath before he raised his head to meet her gaze. “I don’t want my legacy, our legacy, to be about how many deaths we may or may not have been indirectly responsible for.”

“You really did have an epiphany didn’t you?” Katie looked at him, not a shred of sarcasm in her voice.

“It was my moment of clarity” Tony nodded “And I have a permanent reminder, as you know already.”

He moved his arm gently, wincing as he did so, loosening his tie a little and undoing the top few buttons on his shirt. He gently parted it and Katie gave a gasp at the small circle of light in the middle of his chest.

“This thing powered a suit I made. A metal suit. I shrunk the Arc reactor down in a damned cave, and that’s what’s now keeping the shrapnel in place, but it powered a heavy assed suit for fifteen minutes. Just think of all the good we could do with it with it. Renewable technology, medical equipment, maybe some other form of potential peace keeping initiative with a slightly smaller metal suit.”

“Is this the big stick you were talking about?” Katie asked, arching her eyebrow. “A metal suit.”

Tony took a deep breath. “In a fashion, yes. It could remove the need for other sticks so to speak.”

Katie took a deep breath before she stepped forward and began to do his shirt back up for him, not saying a word as she mulled over what he had said. The fact they traded weapons had been something she tried not to think about, justifying it in her mind as a means to an end- if they didn’t someone else would. But if you were to remove that completely…

She re-knotted his tie and slid it up to his collar before she straightened it and stood back, rolling her eyes as Tony loosened it once more.

“I need you to trust me on this, Kiddo.” He said softly and she looked at him, her eyes searching his. There wasn’t a single ounce of doubt there, quit the contrary. This was obviously something he vehemently believed in. And for that reason, she decided to back him.

“Okay.” She nodded “We’ll shut it down.”

Katie watched as her 2010 self and brother embraced, turning to Tony. “You have no idea how much of a head fuck that was” she said as they followed themselves out of the room.

“Oh, believe me I do.” Tony said, as they stood at the back of the room, watching as Obadiah greeted the press, 2010 Katie walking up to stand beside him.

Tony sat down in front of the podium. “Hey, would it be all right if everyone sat down?” He asked, fishing the cheeseburger out of his pocket “Why don't you just sit down? That way you can see me, and I can... a little less formal and...” Tony took a bite of the cheeseburger as Katie glanced at Obi, giving a shrug, before she sat to Tony’s left.

“Good to see you.” Tony looked at Obi who smiled.

“Good to see you.” He said, reaching out and touching Tony’s shoulder.

“I never got to say goodbye to Dad.” Tony looked around. He glanced at Katie, “we never got to say goodbye to our father.” He swallowed his food and placed the half eaten burger on the floor as he considered his words. “There's questions that I would have asked him. I would have asked him how he felt about what this company did. If he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts.”

Katie glanced at the floor as Tony paused for a second.

“Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels.” He once more turned to Katie who gently placed her hand on his back, giving a small rub over his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath he looked out over the room. “I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that we had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.”

Out of the corner of her eye, as the members of the press began to call Tony’s name, Katie saw Obadiah shift slightly, frowning a little at what Tony had just said.

“Hey,Ben.” Tony nodded to one of the reporters.

“What happened over there?”

“I had my eyes opened.” Tony stood and moved behind the podium, Katie watching his every move. “I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up.”

He glanced down at Katie and she gave him a small nod.

“And that is why, effective immediately, me and my sister are shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International”

The room erupted in commotion, everyone standing and talking at the same time. Katie took her position by her brother as Tony simply continued speaking

“…until such a time as we can decide what the future of the company will be.”

Obadiah placed his hand over Tony’s shoulder, trying to cut in a little and mentioned something about selling a lot of newspapers but Tony ignored him

“…what direction it should take, one that we’re comfortable with and is consistent with the highest good for this country, as well.”

At that he turned to Katie and the two of them left the stage, Tony’s arm looped around her shoulder as he dropped a kiss to her temple.

Obadiah continued to speak as Katie turned to Tony, watching themselves as they left the room.

“Wanna go watch the follow up fireworks?” he grinned and she gave a chuckle.

“Why not, we’re here. May as well.”

They walked out to see their past selves climbing into Happy’s car and Natasha straightened up as they headed to the Audi.

“Have fun?” She drawled and Katie looked at her and shrugged.

“I suppose I never really understood the significance of that moment. Like I said to Tony in there, this is what kicked it all off. How Iron Man was born.”

Natasha looked at Tony, giving him a little nod “You were right to bring here her then.” “Just like I said.” He shrugged as he opened the door to the Audi, gesturing to it with his head “Now, get in Losers, we’re going Arc Reactor viewing.”

Katie rolled her eyes at Natasha as the two of them climbed into the car and Tony followed the Rolls that was working its way across the Stark Industries site. Eventually it stopped outside the large, glass fronted building which housed the Arc Reactor that powered the plant. The three of them exited and followed 2010 Tony and Katie inside.

“So this is a larger version of what was in your chest.” Natasha looked up at the huge power source, giving it the once over.

“Yup.” Tony nodded. “Pretty cool huh.”

Natasha gave a hmmm of agreement as Katie’s eyes strayed to herself as she stood with Tony, the two of them stood side by side, looking up at it.

“Not sure Obi is gonna be happy.” She turned to look at Tony who shrugged, his eyes not leaving the Arc Reactor.

“I don’t much care.” He shrugged. “We’ve bowed to him and the board for far too long.” “Well, that’s kind of the point of a board.” She looked at him.

“Yeah, but the two of us make the majority, as you know.” Tony shrugged. “Look, Kiddo, this is the right thing to do, we just gotta ride out the bow of this shit storm for a while.”

“That’s a mixed metaphor.” Katie snorted and Tony grinned. At that point the doors to the building opened and they turned to see Obadiah stood, cigar in his mouth, hands on his hips.

“Well, that..uh...that went well.”

“Did we just paint a target on the back of our heads?” Tony asked reaching up to undo his tie.

“Your heads? What about my head?” Obi asked walking behind them, pacing slightly. “What do you think the over-under on the stock drop is gonna be tomorrow?”

“Uh, optimistically, forty points.” Katie offered as Tony whipped off his tie.

“At minimum.” Obadiah nodded.

“Yup.” Tony agreed, hanging his tie over his jacket which was draped on the railings around the reactor.

“Tony, we're a weapons manufacturer.” Obadiah said softly, looking at him.

“Obi, I just don't want a body count to be our only legacy.” Tony turned to face him.

“That's what we do. We're iron mongers. We make weapons.”

“It’s our name on the side of the building.” Katie chipped in and Obadiah sighed.

“What we do keeps the world from falling into chaos.”

“Not based on what I saw.” Tony shook his head. “We're not doing a good enough job. We can do better. We're gonna do something else” “Like what?” Obadiah asked “You want us to make baby bottles?”

“Tony thinks we should take another look into arc reactor technology.” Katie spoke, clearing her throat. “And I agree.

“Ah, come on.” Obi looked at her, then shook his head, waving his hands towards the item in question “The arc reactor, that's a publicity stunt! Guys’ come on. We built that thing to shut the hippies up!”

“It works.” Katie said simply and Tony smiled, catching her eye for a second as Obi scoffed.

“Yeah, as a science project. The arc was never cost effective. We knew that before we built it.” He shook his head once more pacing behind the siblings, neither of who turned to face him “Arc reactor technology, that's a dead end, right?”

Obadiah’s tone was almost sarcastic and Katie understood instantly that he knew about the one in Tony’s chest. From the smile on her brother’s face he’d also reached the same conclusion.

“Maybe.” Tony said, his smile growing bigger as he looked up at the larger arc once more before he turned to Katie, his smile growing bigger. She gave him one of her own as they both turned to look at Obi.

“Huh? Am I right? We haven't had a breakthrough in that in what? Thirty years.”

“That's what they say.” Tony said, narrowing his eyes as Obadiah looked straight at him. Katie snorted.

“Obi, could you have a lousier poker face?” She rolled her eyes.

“Just tell me, who told you?” Tony looked at him.

“Never mind who told me.” Obi pointed towards his chest. “Show me”

“It's Rhodey or Pepper.” Tony continued

“I want to see it.” Obadiah continued.

“Okay, Rhodey…” Tony undid his sling and looking around he began to undo his shirt to show Obadiah the reactor in his chest. The older man looked at it for a moment, glancing to the larger arc before he chuckled a little

“Okay.” He said as he began to button Tony's shirt back up, the same way Katie had earlier.

“Okay? It works.” Tony looked at him.

Obadiah sighed, giving a smile and looped his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Listen to me, Tony. We're a team.” He gestured to Katie. “The three of us, do you understand? There's nothing we can't do if we stick together, like your father and I.”

“I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads-up, okay?” Tony looked at him. “But if I had...”

“Tony. Tony, no more of this "ready, fire, aim" business. You understand me?”

“Wasn’t that another one of Dad's line?” Katie asked and Tony looked at her, nodding.

“You two have gotta let me handle this.” Obi looked at them. “We're gonna have to play a whole different kind of ball now. We're going to have to take a lot of heat.” He said as Katie helped Tony back into his jacket. “I want you to promise me that you're gonna lay low.”

Katie, Tony and Natasha watched the other figures leave the building and Katie sighed, her eyes flicking back up to the arc reactor.

“You know, that was a great trip down memory lane and everything Tone, but you’re gonna have to help me out here as to how, exactly, that’s supposed to relate to my apparent sudden lack of self-worth.”

“You backed my decision.” Tony stated simply. “You were one hundred percent behind me when I said I wanted to shut down the weapons manufacturing.”

“I know, but…” “If you hadn’t been, Tony would never have done it.”  Natasha shrugged

“Red’s right, you were always my sanity check. Despite what you may have thought to the contrary, I trusted your opinions, Kiddo. Every key decision I made with SI was done with you by my side.” “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Tony pressed. “Think about it for a second. The Charities, the deals, the partnerships, the take overs, the Arc Reactor, not one single big thing I did with that company, with our company, was done without you. Even when you disagreed I took that into consideration and modified stuff so that it was more in-line with what you suggested or thought.” Katie swallowed, shaking her head slightly, lost for words. Eventually she took a deep breath and looked at her brother. “I didn’t realise. I always thought you did that simply because you needed my vote on stuff to make a majority…”

“Well you thought wrong.” He shrugged “But I’ll forgive you. The world only has space for one Stark genius.” “Good job you’re dead then.” She shot back and he looked at her, his eyebrow arching slightly, an incredulous smirk on his face as Natasha snorted.

“Touche, Kiddo. Touche.”

 **Original Posting**

[windup-dragoon]

Stories you want to write

But I’m lazy so I haven’t :^) 

Tagged by:: @fistsoflightning Tagging:: @bozjan @candideangel @emetspersephone @meepsthemiqo @eorzeanstarlight @ffxiv-sunderedsouls @bluespiritfire @invidia1988 @firstblesssed @mintdrop @stars-bleed-hearts-shine @usagi-mitsu Sorry for any double tags 

With 2020 playing out as it has been, I haven’t been able to consistently write but that doesn’t stop me from having a lot of stupid ideas! 

 Water Goddess AU

I’ve started this one a while ago, thanks to Kiwi’s Goddess set some time back. There’s still love for the idea and I REALLY WANT TO CONTINUE IT. The last portions of the story include a royal party, thrown in honor of a treaty between Eorzea (or the au’s equivalent to Eorzea) and Garlemald; an introduction to Hien’s brothers (he’s the youngest in this story for reasons); and some angsty ‘I love you’ magic :V 

Kiri’s Memories 

SHE FINALLY BEGINS TO REMEMBER HER CHILDHOOD. Most of this was started during FFXIV Write 2020. The idea has been brewing for quite a while but I hadn’t been motivated to set it into motion until the challenge came up. Her story finally connects with Lani, and Edea, giving insight to pieces that Kiri just couldn’t remember. Whether she makes it out of the encounter alive or not is still unknown. :^) 

Freyja shenanigans 

A series of little drabbles where Freyja as Azem causes havoc and plays pranks on Hades. This would give a little more light on Freyja herself, how she came to become Azem and what the final days of Amaurot were like for her. Also featuring her brother/sister like relationship with Hyth and Emet-Selch. Freyja is such a delight to have living rent free in my head but I just never seem to find the right tone to start writing any of her stories. I just love her immensely. 

Kiri talks feelings to Estinien 

Definitely not the best choice when deciding who will listen to your woes bUT this story involves being a Dragoon. Briefly I’ve touched on this idea (linked above), that after HW Kiri struggles being a Dragoon. She switches weapons and fighting styles for a while, grows a bit distant during this time as well for more than just Dragoon reasons, and flat out is not having a good time. Most of this is accompanied with the weight of what transpired at the Wall with the Griffin, so it’s a little more than just ‘Feelings with Estinien’. But the majority of what I want to write is just two dragoons deciding what it means to be a Dragoon in a time of peace where they no longer kill dragons. 

Heart Eater AU

uHHHH THIS WAS MY GUILTY PLEASURE AU? Kiri as a powerful kitsune yokai, trying to eat the heart of the last Rijin who is just an extremely exhausted college student living on his own before his duties to his family takes away his freedom. Typical anime stereotype but shush. :’)) While she can’t flat out kill Hien immediately, she ends up living with him until the most opportune moment but by doing so, she opens herself up to him. Gosetsu and Yugiri make an appearance as his guardians and make the discovery that Kiri has been freed from her seal. Immediately Gosetsu showers her in talismans, shouting about how dangerous this hissing fur ball is on the ground while Yugiri and Hien sip tea. @heirsofdiscord, @whitherliliesbloom, and @ancientechos characters all make an appearance as well! As Kiri decides whether she loves or would love to eat Hien, they act as the Scooby gang and hunt paranormal in their downtime. Heavily inspired by xxxHolic if I’m being honest. 

Dreaming of Her? 

COUGH This one I’ve actually been trying to write... As anyone who knows me would tell you, I don’t really write smut. I struggle with it a lot and honestly I don’t know how to get over it. So occasionally I’ve been writing small pieces at a time. Essentially it’s Hien having a dream about Kiri before they actually confess although the chemistry is ABSOLUTELY THERE. Literally just smut, no plot really. :’))

Moogle Chocobo Carnival!!!

Kiri and friends visit another world just in time to visit the Moogle Chocobo Carnival in Altissia! ( FFXV ) Maybe they died/are having a dream when they visit BUT REGARDLESS, IT’S SUPER FUN AND THEY ALL HAVE A BLAST. Hien runs around in the full gear of a t-shirt, the chocobo hat, and poses/dances with all the Chocobo and Moogle mascots he comes across. Kiri cries over how cute all the moogles are until Hien buys her several plushies of moogles and chocobos. They all play mini games together and share a nice dinner before heading off to the water to watch fireworks at night! Hien and Kiri smooch on their boat uwu

lastly

ANYTHING MODERN

Modern day AU’s give me so much life! The Yokai AU is also Modern but I just want normal, every day life of two idiots falling in love. :V Give me like a typical drama where they get stuck in a snowstorm together and Hien invites Kiri over for coffee at his place, playing cards/board games next to a candle because the power went out. :’)))) Oh and they probably get steamy at some point but that’s all this couple does in any au let’s be real. 

I’m sure there’s more that I’ve mentioned before bUT those are the main ones I want to focus on at some point :3c

[kyogre-blue]

Naruto Shippuden, ep475-479

So this is the end of the main storyline. I have a lot of half-formed thoughts, but let me say plainly: 

I can’t believe they screwed up a very simple ending this badly. 

475:

Speaking for the entire thing, this entire section is about 3 episodes too long. It drags insanely. 

Most sections of the fight are quite dull, and the more... metaphorical parts are also bad. 

Moving on. Son Goku wanted to go back to “Suirendo.” Kokuou, to a forest. 

Naruto says it’s like Kaguya didn’t have a heart... Even though we got an entire flashback about her feelings and motivations. Even though she cried in front of him. Naruto, wtf. 

Hagoromo blames eating the chakra fruit. Again with a very stupid and selective choosing of which powers are bad and why. 

Sasuke decides to walk over to the Valley of the End for no reason except to be dramatic. They seems to have moved fairly close during the fighting. 

I shit on Hagomoro a lot, but his reasons are fairly clear and he actively changes his approach because of past experiences. I can appreciate that. 

476: 

Sasuke thinks that Itachi was a true Hokage because he tried to take on protecting the entire village and country on his own, unacknowledged by anyone. This is the opposite definition of Naruto’s, that the Hokage is the one who is acknowledged by everyone. Like almost everything about their confrontation, this is stupid as fuck. You can say that Itachi was a true shinobi, but a Hokage is a leader. You obviously need to actually... y’know.... lead people, which Itachi never did. 

Sasuke’s stated plan is incredibly vague. It’s fairly obvious that Kishimoto just randomly threw something together to excuse him and Naruto fighting. The fact that it’s STILL so bad is amazing. If you exclude the Hokage nonsense, Sasuke sounds like he wants to pull a Lelouch scheme of becoming the enemy that unifies the world against him (”bearing all hatred”). Except of course, Sasuke wants to be Hokage, which is the face of an entire village. What does he think is going to happen to the village if he’s in charge.... 

I do like how Sasuke just outright told Hagoromo what he’s going to do, and Hagoromo stuck to his guns about letting both of them have his power. It’s stupid on its own, but it makes sense in light of Indra. 

There’s this one animator (team?) who do really specific detailed hand to hand fights, and I always feel bad about finding them super boring. Clearly effort went in! And yet, they’re so disinteresting and janky looking. 

Naruto here still has the fleshy bit chakra mode, even though he’s supposed to have used up Hagoromo’s power when sealing Kaguya. He doesn’t have it at any later point though. 

The Susanoo spits out fireballs... I guess it can do giant jutsus now? 

Naruto does try to object to Sasuke’s.... “plan” by saying there’s no guarantee that whatever new system he creates won’t be just as bad. But like.... BRO, there’s no guarantee YOUR changes will do better?? He has no other concrete arguments either. 

The only thing Naruto concretely objects to is that he doesn’t want Sasuke to be alone. There are two issues with this. One, the correct follow up to this is “I’ll go with you,” not to make someone stop everything they’re doing. Twelve year old Sakura knew this. Two, Sasuke’s obsession with killing Naruto and doing this all alone makes no sense at all. It’s directly opposite what Itachi told him, and also Itachi’s issue was never letting Sasuke live. That didn’t cause him to fail in any way at all, so why does Sasuke fixate on changing that one point to make sure he has no one left? 

The answer, because Kishimoto needed to bullshit something out.

477: 

Sasuke can Amaterasu with the Rinne-Sharingan. 

You can see how much the animators ran out of steam because they start using the exact same tricks they already pulled with Kakashi v Obito, like interposing the child selves with the present ones. 

The OP ninjutsu fight is... aggressively OK, the taijutsu afterwards is the best part of the fight, the powerless whacking on each other is very dull and overdrawn. 

Kurama goes to sleep if he gives away all his chakra. 

The ghosts hands forming the Rasengan was just pretentious. It doesn’t thematically make sense either, btw. 

478: 

I forgot where the unison sign comes from and I still don’t buy into it as some big symbolic thing. 

Trying to add these deep emotions to a couple eight year olds sparring at school is not working. 

Sasuke parallels both of them being ostracized. 

Sasuke thinks Sakura and Kakashi would figure out how to shut down Infinite Tsukuyomi even if these two died. I wish they had. 

The near death experience is trippy, redundant and dull. 

Sasuke says that everyone else turned their backs on him and cut their connection at some point. I don’t remember Juugo doing that. All of Team Taka came out to the war to help Sasuke. Even Sakura was still deeply invested in her bond with him. Naruto is just the one with magic powers to fight him as an equal. 

As a kid, Sasuke felt upset at watching Naruto get scolded. 

Still the pain obsession... 

Sasuke was jealous of Naruto’s.... I’m not clear what. You would think it would be his ability to form bonds, but he connects Naruto to Itachi, which doesn’t really make sense. At most, you could say that it’s their broader view, rather than focusing on personal stuff, but that is not really at all the case, since Naruto chased him due to personal reasons. Like many things in this longass ending, it doesn’t make sense. 

They use the exact same montage about how great Naruto is as with Obito. Not only is it redundant, it doesn’t even make sense here, since it’s all about becoming Hokage. What does not having shortcuts have to do with Sasuke? 

“Punching a sulking friend to make him snap out of it” WOW

Why would Sasuke dying stop Indra’s cycle....

479: 

We get another “here is Team 7″ moment, even though Sakura and Kakashi were clearly and repeatedly shown to be irrelevant in Sasuke’s journey. 

I seriously need to look up why B is alive. 

Kakashi becoming Hokage is still dumb on multiple levels. But also, when was he “acknowledged by everyone?” He’s a good jounin, but we have no indication he’s that standout. Also, Tsunade was made a candidate and received at least some of the support due to her bloodline, so was she really acknowledged by everyone? 

They put Sasuke in a straightjacket and a blindfold. OK

Kakashi keeps covering one eye for no reason. 

Naruto is made jounin directly... after some studying. What is he studying tho??

Supposedly, Sasuke should be in prison. OK, but why? Gaara killed multiple comrades and caused all kinds of shit, but he just kept going as normal. There’s ZERO mention of Orochimaru. Is he in prison? 

Sakura is growing her hair out again? Wow. 

I’m sorry for every doubting everyone’s outrage. This ending is in fact That Bad. 

[harry-leroy]

OK. I've got to ask--Henry VI? I think you're the first person I've met who claims those as their favorite Shakespeare. I'll admit that I've read and seen a fair bit of Shakespeare, but I'm not familiar with them at all. What's the appeal? Why do you love them? Sell them to me. ;)

Oh boy, here we go :))))) (Thank you for giving me permission to scream - I also think I’m the only person I’ve ever met who has those as their favorite Shakespeare plays). Also, as we’ve talked opera - I think these plays could make a great Wagnerian style opera cycle. 

First off, little disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist, so I can’t say that I’ve definitely got the best interpretation of the Wars of the Roses and the history that the H6 cycle covers. I know I do not - so you may read these plays and have totally different interpretations, and that’s great! This will kind of be how I came to love the plays and why they were (and still are) exciting for me to read. 

I will admit, these plays are a bit of a minefield (as my Shakespeare professor said during a lecture on the histories and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that descriptor). Some of these scenes are not as well written, and many of them are almost irrelevant to telling a tight-knit story, so things get cut. Sometimes 1H6 is just cut entirely from productions, and I might venture to say that it is probably the least performed Shakespeare play. We get lines like “O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d, / That I in a rage might shoot them at your faces” (1H6.4.4.79-80), which I might say is nearly on par with “a little touch of Harry in the night” from Henry V. But despite the unevenness, there is so much from these plays that are meaningful, heartbreaking, and that continue to fascinate me. There’s so much about power and leadership that we can learn from these plays - and perhaps that’s why I took an interest in 1990s British politics because there are actually some very interesting similarities happening - but also a lot we can learn about empathy, hope, and love. 

These plays have a lot of fascinating key players - it would honestly be a privilege to play any of them - and most (if not all) of these key players have some claim to power, just in the family lines they were born into. And this conflict is one that’s been building up since Richard II. With the Wars of the Roses we have a man who is unwilling, and sometimes unable to lead because of various circumstances, some of which having to do with his mental health, which was generally poor, and some of which have to do with the various times he was dethroned, captured, etc. - and I say unable for lack of a better word. Essentially, politics in these plays are caving in, and at a very rapid pace. There’s a hole at the center of government and people are ambitious to fill it. We also have a lot of people who could potentially fill that role, people who on principle, have a lot of political enemies. The nobles in these plays are having to assure that they themselves are in power or that their ally is in power, otherwise it is their livelihood at stake. 

We have Henry VI, who was made king at nine months old after the untimely death of his father, the famous Henry V, and basically has people swarming him since birth claiming that they’re working in his best interest. He’s a bit of a self-preservationist to start, but by the end we see a man completely transformed by the horrors of war and ruthless politics. I also think he might be the only Shakespeare character who gets his entire life played out on stage. We see him at every stage of his life, which makes his descent all the more bitter. (One cannot help but see the broken man he is at forty-nine and be forced to remember the spritely, kind boy he was at ten). He’s a man who clings closely to God in an environment where God seems to be absent. He desires peace, if nothing else, and he wants to achieve this by talking things through. He’s an excellent orator (one only needs to look at the “Ay Margaret; my heart is drown’d with grief” monologue from 2H6, but there are countless other examples), but there’s a point where even he realizes that his talking will achieve nothing, and his alternative is heartbreaking. 

We have his wife, Queen Margaret, otherwise known as Margaret of Anjou, or the “she-wolf of France”. I advertise her as “if you like Lady Macbeth, you’ll love Margaret of Anjou”. Sometimes Shakespeare can portray her as wanting power for herself, but I genuinely think she wanted a good life for her husband and her child, otherwise the alternative is begging at her uncle’s feet for protection in France (her uncle was Charles VII of France) while separated from her husband, having her or a member of her immediate family be killed, or worse. I think it’s important to remember with Margaret that historically she came from a family where women took power if their husbands were unable to. Her assumption of power in these plays is something that’s natural to her, even if it’s not reflected very well in Shakespeare’s language. You also see some fantastically thrilling monologues from Margaret as well, especially her molehill speech (one of two molehill speeches in 3H6, totally different in nature - the other one is from a heartbroken and forlorn Henry after the Battle of Towton) - Margaret’s monologue has got the energy of a hungry cat holding a mouse by the tail. 

Also Henry and Margaret have a fascinating relationship. Because they’re so different in how they resolve conflicts, they grow somewhat disenchanted with each other at times, and can actually be mean to one another, despite their love. My favorite scene might be at the start of 3H6, where Margaret has come in with their seven year old son, Edward, and starts berating Henry for giving the line of succession to the Yorkists. What strikes me there is that we have a little boy having to choose between staying with his mom, or going with his dad - it’s something very domestic, and I think the emotional accessibility of that scene is what makes it memorable. It’s not about politics for me at that moment, it’s about a boy having to choose between his very estranged parents. Here’s a little taste from 1.1. in 3H6 - lines 255-261: 

QUEEN MARGARET: Come son, let’s away. / Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them. 

KING HENRY: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone. 

KING HENRY: Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? 

QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, to be murdered by his enemies. 

We also have Richard, Duke of York, who is Henry’s cousin and leader of the Yorkist faction. If you’re at all familiar with 1990s British politics, as I have grown close to over the past month, York reminds me very much of Michael Heseltine (filthy rich and constantly vying for power) - and I would love to stage some kind of modern H6 cycle production just so I could make that connection. York’s father is one of the three traitors executed by Henry V at the start of H5, leaving him an orphan at four years old (historically). He is also Aumerle’s (from R2) nephew, and so when Aumerle dies at the Battle of Agincourt, little four year old Richard inherits both his father’s money and titles, and his uncle’s money and titles, making him the second richest nobleman in England behind the King. All this information is historical and doesn’t really show up in the play, but I think that kind of background would give a man some entitlement. He’s also next in line for the throne if something were to happen to Henry (until Henry has a son), so he feels it is his duty as heir to the throne to protect Henry (or in better words, he feels that he should be running the show) - Margaret feels that it is her duty to protect Henry as she is his wife and mother of Edward of Westminster, the Lancastrian heir, and so you can see where these two are going to disagree. 

More fascinating are York’s sons, Edward, George, and Richard. Edward is this (for lack of better words) “hip” eighteen year old who comes and shreds things up at the Battle of Towton - becoming Edward IV in the process and chasing Henry off the throne. He is incredibly problematic, but I might venture to say that he’s the least problematic of the trio of York brothers. George of Clarence is (also for lack of better words) “a hot mess” and feels entitled to power, even though he may not readily give his motivations for it. I think he just wants it, and so he actually ends up switching sides mid-3H6 because he would actually be in a better position in government with those new allies. And finally, we have Richard of Gloucester (future Richard III), and in 3H6, you just get to see him sparkle. It puzzles me a bit how people can just jump into Richard III without getting any of the lead up that Shakespeare gave in the H6 cycle, and I think 3H6 is the perfect play to see that. I think it clears up a lot of his motivation, which Shakespeare didn’t get perfectly either, because there are some ableist things going on with these plays. He’s just as bloodthirsty, just as cynical, but in this play, he wins out the day. 

These are just a few of the main characters. We’ve also got Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (known to history as “The Kingmaker”), who is this incredibly powerful nobleman who is wicked skilled in battle and seems to have a lot of luck in that area (until he doesn’t). We’ve got Clifford, who is just as bloodthirsty as Richard III (if not more so). We’ve also got Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester - Henry’s uncle and quite unpopular with his fellow noblemen, and Eleanor Cobham, his wife who gets caught in the act of witchcraft. (Talk to my lovely friend @nuingiliath if you want to hear about Humphrey or Eleanor). Joan of Arc also makes an appearance in 1H6, and often she’s the only reason that 1H6 gets performed. 

There are so many ways to latch onto this cycle, and it can be for the huge arcs that these characters go on, or it can be for the very small reasons, like in the first scene of 3H6, like I mentioned earlier. It’s very much akin to Titus Andronicus in the language (I did a bit of research a while ago about the use of animal-focused language in Shakespeare’s plays, and the H6 cycle and Titus Andronicus lead the charts just in terms of frequency of people being referred to metaphorically as animals- they’re also chronological neighbors, all written very early in Shakespeare’s career). Also, these plays held a huge amount of weight at the time they were written - the effects of the Wars of the Roses were still pressing over the political climate of the 1590s. 

I think these plays are great to read just in being able to contextualize the histories as a whole - you get to know how things fared after Henry V (spoiler: not well), and you also get the lead up to Richard III. The ghosts in Richard’s dream make sense after reading the H6 cycle - because those ghosts lived in the H6 cycle, and (spoiler: Richard wronged them in the H6 cycle). They were also the first of Shakespeare’s history plays, so you read subsequent histories plays that make subtle references to the H6 cycle, and I think you can take so much more out of the rest of the histories plays once you’ve read these. 

I hope this was a little informative, and perhaps persuaded you to check them out! 

Productions I recommend (you can click on the bold titles and it’ll take you to where you can access these productions): 

Shakespeare’s Globe at Barnet (2013) // Graham Butler (Henry VI), Mary Doherty (Margaret of Anjou), Brendan O’Hea (Richard, Duke of York), Simon Harrison (Richard of Gloucester) - filmed at Barnet, location of the Battle of Barnet, where Warwick was killed in 1471. 

ESC Production (1990) // Paul Brennen (Henry VI), June Watson (Margaret of Anjou), Barry Stanton (Richard, Duke of York), Andrew Jarvis (Richard of Gloucester) - a more modern production, one cast put together all seven major Plantagenet history plays (1H6 and 2H6 are combined into one play - a normal practice). Sometimes this footage can be a bit fuzzy, but I loved this production. 

The Hollow Crown Season 2 // Tom Sturridge (Henry VI), Sophie Okonedo (Margaret of Anjou), Adrian Dunbar (Richard, Duke of York), Benedict Cumberbatch (Richard of Gloucester) - done in a film-like style, also with some pretty big name actors as you can see. Season 1 stars Ben Whishaw as Richard II, Jeremy Irons as Henry IV, Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff, and Tom Hiddleston as Hal/Henry V. (also available on iTunes) 

RSC Wars of the Roses (1965) // David Warner (Henry VI), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret of Anjou), Donald Sinden (Richard, Duke of York), Ian Holm (Richard of Gloucester) - black and white film, done in parts on YouTube. 

BBC Henry VI Plays (1983) // Peter Benson (Henry VI), Julia Foster (Margaret of Anjou), Bernard Hill (Richard, Duke of York), Ron Cook (Richard of Gloucester) - features my favorite filmed performance of Edward IV (played by Brian Protheroe), and my favorite filmed performance of Warwick (played by Mark Wing-Davey). 

Also if you ever get to see Rosa Joshi’s production of an all female H6 cycle... *like every time I see photos my immediate reaction is *heart eyes* I haven’t seen it yet, but my amazing friend and fellow Shakespearean @princess-of-france has - I’m sure she’d love to talk more about it sometime! I’ll leave a picture I found on the internet... 

Also tagging @suits-of-woe because we could cry about these plays all day. 

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 87

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​, @alievans007​

She dreams of the first Christmas in Telluride. That old farmhouse long before the extensive renovations that had transformed it from drafty and ill kept to a beautiful, warm place perfect for a growing family. It had had promise. High ceilings and original hardwood floors that could be refurbished. Thirty acres of property that backed onto a creek and woodlands and came with an incredible view of the snow capped mountains. After months of living with her mother and step father while getting their underneath them, the home represented the official start of their new lives in the States.  Set a thousand feet from the main road and surrounded by towering trees, it had provided peace and quiet and a sense of safety and security; two things they both craved and believed would be the perfect setting for raising children in. At the time they’d had no plans of ever returning to Australia, and while Tyler had initially struggled with the culture shock and the enormous change he’d made in his life, he’d actually adjusted  quite well to the change of scenery and the colder climate.  There hadn’t really been anything for him back home; aside from a couple of old friends. His relationship with his father had always been toxic, and only became more so with each passing year. A change will be good, he had said. And his words had quickly been proven right.

There were no memories haunting him in Colorado, and a drastic change came with the trading in of the beach and sweltering heat for the mountains and the forests and the cooler air. He was noticeably happier; smiling and laughing more and possessing a much more positive outlook on their lives and their future. The ghosts of his pasts didn’t follow him there, and he started sleeping better and rekindled the passion for working out religiously; putting on the weight and the muscle -and the some- that he’d lost during that long and often agonizing recovery after Dhaka. They’d just had Millie then. Ten months old and chubby cheeked; thick and wavy sandy blond hair and enormous blue eyes framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. An extremely happy and healthy baby. Full of curiosity and wonder and in love with the world; always giggling and smiling and in turn making their lives even brighter. The twins hadn’t even arrived yet; a month before they'd make their rather dramatic entrance into the world.

He’d gotten up in the middle of the night with an uncharacteristically unsettled and grumpy Millie; a mixture of teething and a stubborn cold that was making it hard for her to sleep. And when an hour passed and he still hadn’t returned to the warm confines of their bed -either alone or with the baby- yet all was silent in the house, she’d gone looking for them.  She’d expected to find him passed out on the couch with Millie on his chest, but instead discovered him standing in front of the Christmas tree. The lights on and their daughter in those strong, protective arms; voice soft and quiet as he talked to Millie about her very first Christmas that was quickly approaching. About how spoiled she’d be and how he was happy that she got to experience the extra bonus of having snow; how he’d always dreamed of experiencing a white Christmas when he was a kid.  

And he’d told her about what the holidays were like when he was growing up. How his mum put so much time and effort into making it amazing for him; sharing the traditions she’d grown up with and creating her own that he’d hopefully one day continue with his family. It was the one time of the year his father wasn’t drunk. When he stuck to only one glass of wine at dinner and never raised his voice or his hand to either of them.  For twenty fours hours, they were a normal family, and that night he’d go to bed and pray for one last Christmas gift: that he’d wake up and his father wouldn’t go back to his ‘old self’. That wish never came true, and once his mother died, Christmas lost any and all meaning or importance for  him. Relegated to just ‘another day’ in his life; another chance for the old man to beat the shit out of him and degrade him and try to break his spirit.  

He’d tried with his first marriage and child. Attempted to get into the Christmas spirit and bring back some of his mother’s traditions; wanting to make the time magical and beautiful for his son. But he could never seem to totally commit to it; too many bad memories holding him back. The pain of his mother’s passing and his father’s treatment of him still too raw, even though it had been more than fifteen years prior.  But he was determined this time, he’d told Millie, as he stood there with her in his arms. Things would be different. HE’D be different. Because she and her momma and her soon to be born brothers deserved that; a husband and a father who was ‘all in’. Someone totally committed to making every second of every day matter. He wanted to be a better person this time around. A better man.

It had been a beautiful thing to hear. And see. This big, strong man covered in scars and tattoos, looking at his little girl with so much love and awe in his eyes. And Millie caught up in looking at him with pure adoration AND at the tree; amazed by the multicoloured lights and her little hands exploring the branches and the decorations.  Esme hadn’t had the heart to disturb them, and she’d never told him about what she’d witnessed. That moment had been reserved for father and daughter. Instead she’d just gone back upstairs and returned to bed; pretending to  wake up when he finally climbed back in beside her a half an hour later.

She stirs to the ring of her cell phone; muffled by its resting place under the pillow next to her. She had somehow managed to drift off, her body and mind finally giving in to exhaustion; lulled into a restless sleep by the continuous beeping of the  EKG machine and her husband’s soft, slow breathing. The room is dark; illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window above her head and the glow of the bedside monitor. At first she’s disoriented. Blindly reaching for that solid, warm body that is usually beside her, but  finding nothing but cool, crisp hospital issued sheets.  It effectively snaps her fully awake and plunges her back into reality. The dream had been so vivid; as if she was experiencing that tender, beautiful moment for the very first time.  

It’s heartbreaking to wake up to. Her children thousands of miles away, her husband’s life still teetering on a very narrow and dangerous ledge, the sounds of hospital life just beyond the closed door; bells routinely going off signally patients -or their families- need help, the quiet chatter of the nurses at the central workstation.   And for a moment she doesn’t move; lying on her back in the middle of that little pull out couch, tears filling her eyes and a tremendous ache inhabiting her chest. She feels empty. Lonely. All of the fear and the worry and the anger sitting so heavily on her heart.  And when her phone stops ringing and then immediately starts up again, she gives herself a pep talk: “You can do this. You HAVE to do this. He needs you to do this. He needs YOU.”

She reaches under the pillow and snags her cell, frowning at the word HOME emblazoned across the screen. She glances at the illuminated wall clock across the room; it would be just shy of five am in Cooktown. She can’t help but think the worst; that the situation isn’t over after all and troubled has followed them home.   And she tries to keep the panic out of her voice when she answers.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” That little voice greets. A harsh whisper; neither tearful nor scared.

“Amelia.”  She hasn’t used that name in years. Adopting the moniker Millie when the then three year old decided that was what she preferred to be called. And she quickly sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed; shoving her feet in the pair of flip flops that  sit on the floor next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well...yeah...there IS something wrong.”

“What’s going on?” She rakes a hand through her hair as she stands, then grabs the hoodie off the chair beside Tyler’s bed and shrugs into it. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.”

“It’s five in the morning, doodle. What are you doing up? You should be asleep.”

“Is daddy there?”

“No,” Esme lies, then steps out into the hall. Giving a small smile and a nod in greeting to the armed guard -one of Anil’s people- that sits next to the door. A precaution; in case some loyal and overzealous fan of Asif’s or Mahajan’s attempts to cause trouble.  “He’s not.”

“Where is he?”

“He had to go and do some things.”

“Work things?”

“Yeah. Last minute stuff. Things that couldn’t wait and he had to get done.”

“Do you know when he’s going to be back? I tried calling his cell but it just went to voicemail. I want to talk to him. I want to talk to daddy.”

“He probably has his phone turned off. It’s important work stuff.”

“I’m important,” Millie reminds her. “And daddy always says that us kids are more important than anything else.”

“Well you guys are. You ARE the important thing to him. But I don’t think he was expecting you to call at this time of night. Not when you’re supposed to be in bed. Sleeping. And why aren’t you? Sleeping?”

“I had a bad dream. So I went into your room to get daddy. I forgot you guys weren’t home yet. Daddy always helps me after a bad dream. Always. He makes me warm milk and oatmeal and then he lies on the couch with me and rubs my tummy until I fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can ask Ovi or Uncle Kyle to do that,” Esme suggests.

“I don’t want Ovi or Uncle Kyle. I want daddy. That’s what daddy does for me. Not anyone else. I don’t want anyone else doing it. Just daddy.”

“Millie, we are thousands of miles away. Even if he was here, he wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.”

“But I could hear his voice and it would make me feel better. Remember how sometimes when he’s away for his job, I’ll call him and he’ll talk to me until I fall asleep again?”

“But he can’t do that, sweetie. Because he’s not here.”

“But if he’d turn his cell back on, he could do it. Can you call him on his other phone? His work one? And tell him I need to talk to him? If you tell him I had a bad dream, he’ll turn his other phone back on and call me. I know he will.”

“Millie, I can’t call him. He’s busy. And not even I can talk to him right now. I’m sorry. I wish daddy COULD talk to you. But he can’t.”

“Is he okay?”

Esme blinks. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

“You sound sad. Why are you sad? Is daddy okay? Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re sad?”

“Nothing happened, doodle. And I’m not sad. I’m just tired. It’s only one in the morning here.”

“I’m sorry, mommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I miss you so much.”

“Will you and daddy be home soon?”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too. Will you tell him I called? I left him two messages. On his cell. Will you tell him to listen to them?”

“I’ll tell him. I promise.”

“Ask him to call me later. I want to talk to him, okay?”

Esme nods, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat. “Okay.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. That I miss him. Today is Saturday. The sun will be up soon. We always watch the sunrise together on Saturdays and then we have breakfast and go surfing.”

“I know you do,”  she brushes away the tears that finally manage to escape. “I know you guys do that together. And you’ll get to it again when we’re home, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re not sad? You sound sad, mommy.”

“I’m okay. Just tired. And homesick. I miss you. I miss all of you. So much.”

“I miss you too, mommy. I’m sorry I woke you up. You can go back to sleep now. I’m going to take Saju out to pee; he can watch the sun come up with me.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure he’ll like that. I love you.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. And give him a hug and kiss from me.”

“I will,” Esme promises, and then disconnects the call.  

Her hands violently tremble, making it nearly impossible to tend to the simple task of slipping her phone into her pocket. The ache in her chest worsens and her legs feel numb; threatening to give out from under her And she slumps back against the wall as the first sob escapes a pitiful, choked sound accompanied by another she attempts to to stifle with her hand.  All she can hear is her daughter’s voice; tiny and beautiful and so innocent. Millie’s words replaying over and over again in her mind. About wanting to talk to her daddy...NEEDING to talk to him...because he’s the only one that can make things better. The one she relies on to chase away the monsters and make her feel safe and secure again.  Six years old and her father is her entire world. That precious little girl who’d inherited his eyes and his smile.

The tears finally come.

****

When the return to sleep fails her, she heads to the family kitchen. It’s spacious and modern and stocked with free ‘goodies’ donated by the hospital; various flavours of teas and coffee, pastries and other desserts, and a selection of non perishables. Each family is given a small pantry and  bar fridge marked with their last name; safe places   to keep things purchased with their own money. It’s the small comforts that make a difference; those tiny details and touches that somehow manage to lift some of the stress, fear, and worry that have become your driving forces.

She boils water; thumbing through the wide selection of flavoured teas that sit in an ornate basket on the counter. And she freezes when she hears it; blood running cold and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The distinct sounds of wailing and sobbing coming from somewhere on the ward. At first it makes her heart skip a beat, then causes it to pound furiously in her chest. It’s gut wrenching; the harsh reality of someone else’s grief.  Someone else’s loss. It makes you sympathetic towards them but also fearful that you just may encounter the same situation. You can prepare yourself for it; the chance that the person you love may not make it out of a place like this. That they may never improve and will only experience setback after setback and never find themselves well enough for the ‘step down’ unit. It would be foolish NOT to consider that.

But you’re never fully prepared for when it actually does happen. The loss enormous. Sorrow profound. Seven years ago, the loss would have been tremendous;   robbed of what ‘could have been; and left to go through a pregnancy alone and then raise a child that belonged to a dead man. Now it would be catastrophic.   Years of  giving everything of yourself to someone; loving them with every bit of your body, heart, and soul and getting that same love in return. Having someone that looks at you as if you’re the most incredible and beautiful being on earth; their devotion and faithfulness unconditional and going hand in hand with their willingness to protect you at all costs. And having a family together has only elevated things ever further; creating life together and then getting to share in both the joys and the tribulations of raising them.  It’s a partnership; working side by side and each bringing out the best in the other. And all of a sudden that is taken away…

She refuses to think about it. What life would be like without him. The enormous hole that would be left behind. Losing her father as a teenager had been bad enough; a loss that she still mourns even decades later. But to lose your entire world? The love of your life?

“Stop!” Esme  orders aloud, and then inwardly scolds herself for letting her thoughts go to that dark, horrible place. It almost feels like a betrayal; counting him out at the very beginning of the fight. He’s never given up; no matter how dire a situation or how exhausting -whether physical or mental- the battle is. Always the one to keep her going when things seem hopeless. If the situation was reversed, he wouldn’t give up on her, and she feels ashamed for even considering doing it to him.

She turns away from the counter, mug of tea in hand then gives a small start and a   ‘fuck!’ when she discovers she’s not alone. A man younger than herself; smooth, dark skin, a shock of black, curly hair, and kind, chocolate brown eyes.

“My apologies,” he gives a sheepish smile. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t even hear you come in. Lost in my own little world, I guess.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have that little world. A place to escape to. To get away from this The smells, the sights, the sounds. That machine...the beep, beep, beep...drives me insane.”

“I hear you. I think the sound is permanently etched in my brain. It’ll be a long time before it disappears. And I just got here.”

“What are you in for?” he asks, as she moves towards the door. “Sorry. I try for humour; when things are difficult. It’s how I deal with the stress. How I cope.”

“I hear you on that, too. I’m the same way. I guess I try cracking jokes or making light of things because I’m hoping it will make ME feel better. It drives my husband crazy sometimes. Especially when a situation definitely does NOT call for it. Or I ramble. Kind of like what I’m doing right now. Only about ten times worse. He’s the strong, silent type. I’m the chatty one. Even during moments I shouldn’t. Like right now for instance. Sorry. I ramble. Like  I said.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We all have our ways of coping. Is that why you’re here? For your husband?”

Esme nods, then leans back against the doors, eyes riveted on her cup as she repeatedly dunks the tea bag into the boiling water. It’s nerves; the fear that those threatening tears will let loose. She’d thought there were no tears left  after her emotional meltdown following her conversation with Millie. That she’d cried herself dry. At least for the time being. And the last thing she wants is to lose it in front of a complete stranger.  

“He got hurt,” she says. “At work.”

“He works here? He’s from Bangladesh?”

“He’s Australian, actually.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“We are. A very long way. Or least it seems like a very long way. I know; I don’t have an accent. Or if I do, it’s just starting and not very noticeable. I’m originally from Colorado.”

“And you married someone from Australia? How did that happen? You met on vacation?”

“Through work. We were assigned to the same project.”

“And he’s hurt? Bad?”

“Bad enough to be stuck here. It’s going to be a long road. Something tells me we’ll be here a while. He’s in pretty rough shape.”

“Must have been one heck of a workplace accident.”

“Someone tried to kill him,” she admits, and then quickly adds “He’s in private security. A job got out of hand. There was nothing he could have done about it.  There was no way he could have expected things to turn out THIS bad.”

“I’m sorry. That he has to be here. That YOU have to be here.”

“So am I,” she gives a small, sad smile. “But thank you. Why are you here?”

“My wife.  She’s been here for almost two weeks. She had a stroke. While giving birth. Our first child.”

Esme’s eyes widen, and one of her hands slides inside of the open hoodie and instinctively  rests on her baby bump.

“The doctors say there is no brain activity, but I’m not giving up hope. Sometimes, miracles happen. I can’t just give up on her.  She wouldn’t give up on me.”

“I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you. And the baby? Did the baby make it or…?”

“Baby is fine. Very healthy. Very beautiful.” He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, then turns on the screen and holds it out towards her, showing off the display. A beautiful infant with gorgeous dark eyes and little pink bows in her coal black hair.

“She’s beautiful. Congratulations.  It must be so bittersweet; having a new baby while your wife…” her voice trails off, unsure of what to say next.

“You have children?”

“I do.  I have five of them.”

“Five? Forgive me; you don’t look like a woman with five children.”

“Thank you, but believe me, I feel like a mother of fifty right about now. It’s hard; being so far away from them. They have no idea what’s happened. I feel terrible for lying to them, I do. But I really don’t know what to say. They’re so little; the oldest is only six. How do I NOT traumatize them? How do I tell them? I’m just so lost when it comes to this. To a lot of things, actually This is...hard Very hard. Having to trust complete strangers with the life of the person you love. To just put his life in these peoples’ hands. I’m not having a good time with it. At all. I’m sad. I’m angry. Mostly sad, though.”

“Angry?”

“At the person who did this to him. They’re dead, and believe me, there’s a special place in hell for them. But I’m still angry about it. And I’m angry at myself too. Because I made a mistake. And I guess in a way I feel guilty; that my mistake led to this.”

Her companion gives a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think he’d want you to blame yourself.”

“He definitely wouldn’t. Tyler would be pretty mad about it, actually.  He already thinks I’m too hard on myself in a lot of ways. That’s his name, by the way. Tyler. My husband.”

“My wife is Priya. I’m Sanjib.”

“I’m Esme,” she shakes the hand offered. “I should get back. I know he’s not conscious and probably won’t be for a while, but I still don’t like leaving him alone. I like to think he knows I’m there. He has PTSD; hospitals trigger it. He will not be happy when he comes out of sedation, that’s for sure. This is the last place he’ll want to be. It was nice to talk to you, though  Thanks for tolerating me.”

“We should meet. Every day. At a certain time. For tea. I would be nice to have someone to talk to. Other than doctors and nurses”

“It would be,” she agrees. “And someone other than my six year old who called me from Australia and should be sleeping. She had a bad dream and daddy always takes care of her after a bad dream. She’s missing him. A lot. But whenever you feel up to it, just come and find me. It’s hard to miss our room; it’s the only one with the armed guard sitting outside of it.”

Sanjib arches a quizzical brow.

“It’s a long story that needs a bit of time to tell. One that definitely calls for more than one tea. But it was nice talking to you. And I hope your wife heals. I hope a miracle DOES happen.”

“I hope for the same for your husband. That he’s awake sooner, rather than later.”

“Yeah,” she says, and opens the kitchen door. “So do I.”

****

When she returns to the room, Julie is stepping out; slipping the patient chart back into the holder on the door and then turning to greet her

“Is everything alright?” Esme asks, unable to stop herself from fearing the worst. Even the warm smile on the other woman’s face and the gentle hand that first touches her cheek and then lays on her shoulder. “Is he okay? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

“Everything is fine. I was just checking his vitals.”

“And they’re good? He doesn’t need to be intubated or…?”

“He’s doing all the breathing on his own. Doesn’t even need the nasal cannula anymore. And his oxygen level is still staying over ninety four.”

“And that’s good? That’s what we want it to be? Or better?  It’s a good sign that he doesn’t need any help?”

“A very good sign. He’s a lot further along than anyone thought he would be, that’s for sure.  Usually in cases like this, when someone has experienced that level of trauma AND so much of it, it takes weeks, sometimes even months, to see even a glimmer of progress. There are people who have been on this ward for a long time, with less done to them, that aren’t where he is.  He’s got a strong will to live, that’s for sure.”

“He has five reasons to stay alive back home.  There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them. No fight he wouldn't fight. If it was seven years ago, you wouldn’t be seeing what you’re seeing right now.   Before the kids? He wasn’t the person he is now. Once our daughter came along, everything changed. HE changed.”

“I think you’re underestimating the role YOU played. That you DO play.”

“He is so strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And if anyone can defy the odds and prove people, it’s Tyler. So I hope you go and tell that one doctor...the neurologist...exactly what you’re telling me. Because he has been nothing but doom and gloom. He even told me not to expect much. Not even long term. I basically told him to go screw himself. No one is going to talk about my husband like that. No one is going to count him out. I don’t care how many degrees they have before or after their name. I know Tyler. And he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t know the meaning of it. And he is stubborn as hell! You’ll get to see that soon enough, I’m sure.”

“He’s already showing it. And so you know, he did wake. Very briefly, but…”

“Wait? What? What do you mean he woke up? How? Is that even possible? How can he? The surgeon said it would be a few days before they’d start bringing out of it. How…?”

“While it’s heavy sedation, it is still only sedation,” Julie explains. “It isn’t a medically induced coma.  So brief periods of wakefulness and some level of lucidity are common. He likely won’t remember experiencing it, but it will happen.”

“And he was fully awake?”

“Fully awake in terms of all the drugs continuously being pumped into him. But he did open his eyes and ask ‘who the hell are you?’”

Esme gives a small laugh. “That sounds like Tyler. He hates hospitals. They trigger a lot of bad things. It’s good he’s doped up. If he knew where he was and he had the energy, he probably would have lost it. He has pulled out many an IV. He won’t think anything of pulling out a central line. Did he say anything? Did he ask about his kids or…?”

“He asked for you. Seemed worried. I told him you were fine. That you just stepped out for a minute. I asked him how he was feeling and he said sick. So I gave him an anti nausea med through the line. The pain medication he’s on is notorious for making people sick, And he asked for water. So if he does wake up and wants something to drink, that’s what he can have.”

“I can’t believe this even happened. Especially so soon. I didn’t think there was a chance of something like this.  The way everyone was talking, it sounded like even after he was brought out of sedation, he might not come to right away. That it could take weeks, even.”

“Well between you and me, hun, doctors aren’t always right. I’ve seen a lot of patients they’ve been plenty wrong about.  Now don’t get your hopes up; it might not happen again right away. That might have been all the energy he had to spare for a while.”

“But it’s a good sign, right? That he DID wake up? I don’t care how long it takes for him to be okay. Just as long as long as he is in the end. And this has to be a good sign.”

“It’s a sign that his brain is working the way it should. And I’m going to make sure I tell that neurologist, too. There is nothing wrong with that man’s brain; not when he can call his wife by name and answer me when I ask him how he’s doing.  Everything’s going right for him, I promise you. And he’s in good hands. Very good hands. I’ll see that he gets everything he needs And that that mean old brain doctor gets put in his place.”

“You have no idea how much I needed this; to hear this. It’s just been a nightmare; I’m still trying to wrap my head around what went wrong. How could it go so bad, so fast? And then our daughter called and she’s six and her daddy is her entire world and they have this amazing bond.  I mean, he has a bond with all of them, obviously. But it’s different with her; he calls her his miracle baby. He lost a son. From his first marriage. And he never thought he’d be a dad again. And then we met in a crazy way and we made her and he then he survived what he did and…” Esme takes a deep, shaky breath. “....it’s just different. What they have.  She thinks the sun shines out of his ass and they’re so close and she misses him so much. I don’t know how to tell her. It’ll break her heart regardless.  All she wants is to talk to him and I don’t know how to tell her she can’t. I don’t know what to say to any of them.”

“What do they think they can handle hearing?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Millie is so smart and so intuitive for her age. TJ is tough on the outside but a total softie on the inside; he has a huge heart and feels and loves so deeply. And Tanner is crazy intelligent and an old soul. But they’re still babies, practically. She’s six. They’re five. What do I tell them other than daddy got hurt and can’t come home for a while? I don’t want them knowing details. You’ve seen him. Would you want your children knowing how bad he looks?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“And the one person I have to talk me through things like this, I can’t turn to because he’s the one that’s hurt. He’s the rock, not me. He’s the one that talks ME down. I have no clue what I’m doing right now. Other than lying to my children.”

“Just tell them the parts of the truth you know they can handle,” Julie suggests. “They don’t need details Especially ugly ones. Tell them that daddy is hurt and unfortunately can’t come home for a while. But as soon as the doctors say it’s okay, he can be sent to a hospital there and then they can see him as much as they want. It’s what I’d tell my kids And my grand kids.”

“It’s just so hard; being away this far from them. Especially the baby. She’ll be four months old next week and I’m thousands of miles away from her and I‘m afraid she’s going to forget me. The farthest away I’ve been from her is a few hours.  And that was only for two days! I could be here for a few WEEKS. I can’t go home; I can’t leave Tyler alone here.   I just can’t.”

“Is there anyone that could bring her to you? A friend that wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“Our oldest would do it In a heartbeat. He’s technically not ours, ours We’re his guardians. We’ve had him since he was fifteen. He’s twenty one now. I trust him with my kids’ lives. He’d do it. No hesitation. But then that leaves my brother alone with four kids and I don’t think he can handle that. And I’m not asking him to do it. He and Tyler do not get along; my brother thinks my marriage is an epic disaster and the worst mistake I ever made.”  Esme sighs and pushes a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I’m rambling to you like this. I’m sorry; I’m sure you have a lot to do. I shouldn’t keep you like this.”

“Part of looking after patients is caring for their families too. And you’re a long way from home and you’re going through a hell of a horrible thing. You can lean on me. I’ve got broad shoulders. Why don’t you sleep on all of this? Or at least try and get some rest. This is  only the end of day one; you don’t have to have everything figured out . Get some sleep and hopefully something will come to you in the morning.”

“I’ll try. It’s hard. Sleeping alone. You get used to someone being there. I tell you, I will NEVER complain about his cold feet and snoring every again. It’s so weird; the rest of him is a furnace, but those feet!”

“My husband is a snorer. You know how many times I’ve wanted to smother him with a pillow over the years?”

“Oh, I’ve had those moments, believe me. But apparently, I talk in my sleep. Tyler says he can carry on full conversations with me. Apparently my favourite thing to talk about is grocery lists. I always talk about peanut butter, ketchup, and kitty litter. And we don’t even have a cat.”

Julie laughs at that.  “Try and get some rest, okay?  You got a little one in there that’s depending on you. Come here…”   she draws Esme into a tight embrace. “...you’re not alone. Remember that.”

“I’ll try,” she promises. And that pure, affectionate, and comforting moment once more brings tears to her eyes. And it’s sad. That harsh realization that this is the time in decades…maybe even ever…that she’s felt a hug like that Unconditional. Compassionate.

Motherly.

*****

“Your daughter called,” she says, as she parks the chair beside his bed. Gathering the hoodie around her as she sits, then putting down the safety railing  

He’s succumbed to the mixture of sedation and the heavy duty anti nausea meds, and with his head  turned towards the door, the facial injuries are hidden. No stitches -sixty altogether, thirty holding together the damaged muscle and tissue, the others closing the skin- or swelling, or bruising visible. A slight smile curves his lips; no furrows present across his brow, features bathed in the soft glow from the bedside monitor. It’s the first time in years she’s seen him this peaceful. Where he isn’t hampered  by the demons and the mistakes of the past; his brain unburdened and at rest. His body pain free. Breaths slow and even. Relaxed. Right arm resting across his stomach, left lying flat on the mattress. And that’s the hand she takes; holding tightly as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly drift along his forearm.

“She wanted me to tell you that she loves you. And she misses you. She left you a couple voicemails; I’ll play them for you when your phone charges. I don’t know what to tell her. To tell any of them. I’ve never had to give this kind of news. You’re so much better at this than I am. This whole parenting thing. You always have been. You’re a ten; I’m hovering somewhere  around...I don’t know...a six. Although you’d probably tell me I’m full of shit and that I’m being too hard on myself. I just wish I could talk to you about all of this. You’re way better at figuring this kind of stuff out than I am.”

She laces their fingers together,  thumb brushing against the side of his.  “And just so you know, I’m kind of pissed you had the nerve to wake up while I wasn’t here. I’ll try not to be offended that you woke up for another woman and not me.  Unless you’re just pretending to sleep; hoping that I’ll just shut and you leave you alone. Sorry buddy, you’re stuck with me. For about another fifty years.”

She lightly scrapes her fingernails along his forearm, watching his face for any sign of impending consciousness. “And speaking of being stuck with me, I went through your things and your wedding ring has mysteriously disappeared. No one has seen it. Not in the ER, not in the OR. So it looks like you’re finally going to have to upgrade. You’ve only been talking about that for HOW long? I know you hate change; I know you’ve got a connection to the first one. But it looks like you’re going to have to suck it up and get a new one. Or, I could just go ahead and pick one out for you and surprise you with it. Our anniversary in three months, you never know. Looks like you’re not going to be getting your normal gift, sorry. You’ll have to settle for something else.”

She had been surprised at how much it had hurt; realizing that the ring was in fact gone. She had searched  the bag of blood soaked clothes; rummaging through every pocket  in hopes that he’d either taken it off before going into the storage facility of someone else -maybe Koen or Rata on the way to the hospital-  had removed it and tucked it away.  She couldn’t imagine hospital staff NOT giving it to her. But just when she thought her heart possibly couldn’t break even more, it had.  And instead of tears, she’d felt anger. An all consuming rage towards Nathan. It was his fault, after all. He was the only one to blame for all of this; her husband’s battered and bloodied body,  the weeks and months and maybe even years of recovery that lay ahead of him,  the thousands of miles separating her and her children. Now the missing ring. There was only one  person  to blame for all of it. And while he was dead and that should be enough to give her a sense of comfort, satisfaction, and finality, it only made her even angrier.

She’d called home about it. Preferring to speak to Ovi or Nik or even Anil. Someone with at least an ounce of compassion in their bodies. Instead she’d been relegated to talking to Kyle. And while he’d listened to her long winded, rambling rage towards Nathan and the world in general, and her whining and complaining about the ring being lost,  he hadn’t been the most sympathetic when it came to  advice giving.

“It’s just a cheap piece of jewellery. Put on your big girl pants and get him a new one. No big deal. It’s your own fault you’re in this mess anyway. If you had just listened to all of us and left him a long time ago, you…”

She’d hung up. Not even giving him the chance to finish.

“I miss you,” she says, and issues a long, shaky sigh. “I know that sounds weird because you’re literally right here. But I do. I miss you. I miss you so much.  I miss how we sneak the good snacks after the kids go to bed; sit on the couch eating ice cream right out of the carton.  I miss how you tease me about being so short but never complain when I ask you to reach something at the bottom of the washing machine or on the top shelves in the kitchen.  And I miss those talks. You know the ones.  In the middle of the night AFTER we’ve done other things.   We’ve always had those talks; right from day one.  I can’t remember who started it, but do remember you complaining about how cuddly I was. It was a half assed complaint, mind you. I saw the smile on your face; you didn't mind it one bit.  And you were a pretty good cuddler for someone who said they hated it so much. Maybe you secretly liked it and you just had never found someone you WANTED to cuddle. I know, it’s not very bad ass mercenary; being a cuddler. I’ve always loved that about you. That you’re such a study in contradiction.  Everyone else only gets the one side of you; the mercenary side.  But you’ve always let me see all of you. Even seven years ago. After that first time, you never hid it from me. Who you really are. For some reason you never felt a reason to hide it from me. And I think that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you as fast as I did. That you were so honest and real and you didn’t pretend to be someone you weren’t. You didn’t hide the fact that you were a mess. And you didn’t care that I was either.”

Esme   reaches out to move his hair off his forehead, then uses a fingertip to trace the scar that curves over the bridge of his nose.  “I really do miss you, Tyler. And I know it probably sounds stupid to you because you ARE alive and you ARE going to be fine, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent seven years with you. Being able to hear your voice  and your laugh whenever I want and seeing  you smile and that cute little frown and pout you get when you’re really focused on something.  Or when you’re trying so hard not to laugh when one of the kids drops the F bomb in the correct context. Remember that time in Telluride when we were in town and someone was texting and driving and turned into the crosswalk while you were walking with the twins? And TJ flipped him the bird and called him a stupid fucker? I wonder where he learned THAT from? You didn’t know whether to give him shit or be proud of him. I know you don’t think being adorable can go hand in hand with being a bad ass, but you manage somehow.”

She runs her knuckles along his jaw, then lowers her head to press a kiss to his forearm.  “I just need you to be okay,” she says, and struggles to hold back the tears.  “And I don’t want to hear any of your shit about how strong I am and I’m more than capable of doing this by myself; raising five kids.  And maybe I am. Maybe I could handle it. Maybe I could handle them and another one. But I don’t want to do this by myself.  That isn’t what I signed up for six and a half years ago. We’re supposed to do it together. And I’m not letting you back out on me. Ever. So I really need you to be okay.  Because I need you.  More than you realize. And probably more than I’ve ever let on. Why do it alone when you have someone so amazing to do it with? So you have to get better, okay? I need you to get better. Besides, you still owe me a trip. You have this really uncanny ability of getting out of taking me on trips, you know that?”

She releases her hold on his hand, then wraps both arms around his and lays her forehead in the crook of his elbow. Staying there for several minutes; eyes closed as she desperately holds back the flood of tears.  And she almost doesn’t feel it; that light brush of fingers against one of her arms.  Wondering if she actually just imagined it. Or perhaps his body had given an involuntary shiver or jerk; a known side effect from the meds.

“Don’t cry, baby.”  His voice is barely above a whisper.  Quiet and weak. But very much him.

She raises her head to look at him. And the tears that threaten now are ones of relief.   “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So you WERE pretending to be asleep.”

“I was listening.”

“Always the strong, silent type.”

“Please don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“It’s happy tears, I promise.  Can you see me properly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you’re pretty doped up. You could be seeing five of me for all I know.”

“Just one.”

“Out of both eyes or….?”

“Not so good out of the right. But yeah. Out of both.”

“I don’t think you’re really supposed to be awake right now.  The doctors sort of said you wouldn’t be for a while.”

“Fuck ‘em. I do what I want.”

Esme  grins, then pushes the chair away from the side of the bed and stands. “Yeah, you always do.”  She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Just tired”

“Well you’ve had a hell of a day,” she reasons,  combing her fingers through his hair and resting her hand on the top of his head. “As happy as I am that you’re awake, you really need to go back to sleep. That’s what you need right now. Sleep.”

Tyler nods. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“The baby?”

“The baby’s fine. You don’t need to worry about us. There’s a lot of people that are stepping up to take care of us. Time to worry about yourself for a bit. Just close your eyes, okay?”

“Cold.”

“You’re cold?”

He nods once more.

“I can go and find you another blanket. I can…”

“No,” he quickly objects. “Stay. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m right here.”  She places a hand on the side of his face and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“You’re warm.”

“It’s your sweater. I always steal them. They seem to keep me warmer than mine do. Here…” she shrugs out of the hoodie and gently lays it over him. “...that’ll help. You really need to sleep, Tyler.  That’s the only way you’re going to get better and get out of here. You need to close your eyes and get some rest, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up. However long that is.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”  She presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose,  then rests her forehead against his. Eyes closed as her fingers continue to run through his hair.  It is soft and comforting. Soothing.  Quickly helping  him drift off once more.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch12

The Precipice

Warnings for rape/non-con, violence/murder and some steamy spice. Enjoy!

Word count - 3,923

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

________

The exhibit featured reproductions of some of his favorites. The Blinding of Samson, Saturn Devouring His Son, Judith Beheading Holofernes, and several others. He kept his head tilted low, avoiding the cameras entirely where he could as he made his way deeper into the museum. While the other pieces were sublime, he was here for one reason only.

The murderous artist hid his tattooed hands in his pockets as he entered the room of his target, a small alcove off the main hall of artwork. Not many of the visitors bothered to view this piece, since no well-known names were attached to its creation, and it didn’t merit a large viewing area. Security for it was abysmal, to boot. 

Still, he waited a few minutes to be sure he wouldn’t be disturbed. This was private, not for anyone else to witness. Even his friends remained silent as he approached the wall where the canvas hung, barely two inches to spare on either side.

It always stole his breath to see it. A field of flowers on a mountainside, crimson petals a blanket under the feet of those gathered there. The figures all faced slightly away, so just a profile was visible. The composition hinted at the unreachable, that this group was somehow separate from the viewer. That they existed somewhere most people would never reach.

He recognized two or three faces, but only one mattered to his twisted heart.

Nero.

His friend stood on the edge of the field, a forlorn look on his face as his crystal-blue eyes gazed at the sky. Seeing his face again, even just his own meager attempts to capture it, brought the familiar tightness to his chest and throat. He remembered every stroke of the paintbrush as he crafted his friend’s likeness. 

All for this pale imitation of his kindness...

A rhythmic click broke his thoughts; footsteps. Who could say whose feet they belonged to? He needed to conceal himself, now. Whoever dared to interrupt him would pay the price.

The artist dipped into the shadows, choosing the corner he deemed most likely to be ignored by anyone viewing the artwork. The blade in his pocket greeted his fingertips like a lover, the same blade he used to craft his latest work. It sent a thrilling pulse of adrenaline through him to imagine what he might create here, in the same halls that held such classic works. Perhaps they’d inspire him?

A slim figure entered the room as he raised the blade. Female, with a pleasing shape. Lovely hair, and-

Wait…

Is that…?

It couldn’t be you, what were the odds? In such a vast city, for you to wander across his path was something he never expected. He’d imagined a multitude of ways to draw you out, but for you to simply appear? 

Yet there was no mistaking that face, those pursed lips and furrowed brow. 

“In Memoriam…” you murmured. “Why does each face… that’s odd.” 

V smirked and slid to the next shadow. What an interesting day this was becoming. Perhaps he could accelerate his plans, take the next step today since fate brought you to him? One must never waste opportunity. He licked his lips and stepped closer, lurking behind you like a bodyguard. 

“Hello, Y/N…” he purred.

Your eyes widened as you turned to face him, lips parting in shock. He’d missed that, how expressive your face was. No matter how hard you tried to mask your feelings, he saw them all. If anything, it became easier each time he saw you.

“V? What the hell are you doing here?”

---Reader---

You’d almost forgotten how the murderous artist’s eyes gleamed, the way his lips curled when he was amused. How damned tall he was. The intricacy of his tattoos and the poise with which he carried himself.

What the fuck?! Is he trying to get caught?

“Now what kind of greeting is that? Come now, doctor. Show some courtesy.”

The madman stepped closer, tilting his head to stare down into your eyes. You’d never stood this close to him before, so close you smelled a hint of musk from his skin. It sent a rush of dizziness through you. You worked with killers on a regular basis, why did this one in particular cause such powerful reactions?

He took another step, now only inches away. Your heart pounded in your chest, for what reason you weren’t entirely sure. The whole situation made you want to run away, but equally powerful was the urge to stay and finally solve the puzzle of his mind.

Too close, he’s too close! I have to keep it professional.

You shuffled back, trying to establish a boundary between yourself and the obsidian-haired artist. As if he’d pay attention to such things. Maybe you should just run, leave all this behind and never look back. 

No. You needed to figure him out, you couldn’t bear the thought of walking away now.

“Am I frightening you, dear Y/N?”

He closed the gap. You stepped away again, only to find your spine pressed against the extravagantly paneled wall. No escape: he had you cornered. The only question was what he planned to do next.

A tattooed finger rose to stroke your cheekbone, leaving sparks of electricity behind. You licked your lips nervously, battling the urge to lean into his fingertips. It felt alarmingly good to be touched. Even by the hands of a killer.

Am I losing my mind?

“No,” you finally replied, but your voice shook. Damn traitorous vocal cords.

He smirked and dropped his hand to rest on your shoulder, running his palm down the length of your arm to seize your hand. Logic screamed at you to run, break free and get security, but what had logic gotten you? Suspended and alone, friendless and isolated. Maybe logic wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Yep, I’m losing my mind.

“The truth is obvious in your eyes, my dear. Perhaps one day you’ll even be able to admit it to yourself,” he replied.

The heat of his body withdrew and your hand ached as he dropped it. Disappointment colored his piercing eyes and an apology crept up your throat, begging to be spoken. But why? What did you have to apologize for? You hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Seriously, though. What are you doing here?” you asked. A poorly disguised attempt to change the subject, but you honestly wanted an answer. 

He sighed and gazed at the strange painting, his face twisting into an expression you never expected to see. Guilt.

“I came to remember.”

You followed his eyes to find a white-haired figure in the painting. The very same one that reminded you of his unique style, something about the brush strokes…

No way...

“Did you paint this?”

A wry chuckle slipped from his lips. “Part of it, yes.”

And it’s called “In Memoriam”. Did he lose someone?

Of course. Grief was a powerful emotion, enough to break people or change them beyond recognition. You knew it well. The textbooks didn’t do it justice; the desperation and agony, the loneliness and fear that something would remind you of the loss and shatter you into a million pieces all over again, like taking a sledgehammer to a pane of glass. How every breath you took was one more the other person never would, and how much that hurt to know. Anything that eased the pain was a welcome refuge. 

The artist murmured a few words, so quietly you didn’t hear anything more than the rumble of his voice. In the next instant, you found yourself pinned once again, back against the wall and wrists held in an iron grip on either side. You twisted and writhed but he was too strong; you were helpless and vulnerable with no way out.

Well, almost.

“L- let go of me or I’ll scream!”

A single sentence, and the status quo flipped. No longer was he your patient, no longer were you the one with the power. In the facility, yes, but here? 

He can do whatever he wants to me and I can’t stop him. Shit…

A wicked grin split his face, taunting you with his enjoyment of your distress. He hummed and shifted to press his hips against your thigh, letting you feel the twitching length growing firmer by the second. 

“Why do you resist? What has your endless obedience brought you? Nothing but pain.”

You hissed as his hands twisted around your wrists. The automatic protestations died on your lips; how could you argue with the truth?

“Please, just let me go…” you murmured instead. 

The artist chuckled. “I think not. I’d much rather show you the alternative to your suffering, perhaps teach you to see through the lies of society.”

A quiet whisper echoed from the main hall, footsteps treading past the room you found yourself trapped in. For a moment you considered calling for help, but no sound escaped your lips. 

This can’t be happening…

“Let go, doctor. Surrender and be set free from all that holds you back,” he continued, rolling against you with a quiet groan.

Coils of warmth pooled in your belly at the sound, the first hints of need waking deep within. Your lips parted and heat gathered in your cheeks as he leaned closer, eyes glinting. Hot breath fanned your ear as his mouth neared your skin and a soft whimper slipped from your lips. Completely inappropriate, but how were you supposed to control hormonal responses? It simply couldn’t be done.

“Tell me, my dear. Why do you fear me?”

You thrashed your arms again in a useless gesture of rebellion. Whatever you were feeling, you knew it wasn’t fear. There was an edge of risk to it, a hint of vulnerability and danger, yet you were not afraid.

You were excited.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said. 

“Hmm… even after all I’ve done?” he purred.

More voices nearby reminded you of your precarious location. At any moment, another museum goer might wander in and discover the two of you. Or worse, security. You tried to break free again, but your efforts were in vain.

“Perhaps there’s hope for you yet,” he murmured, and then the murderer’s lips were on yours.

For a moment, you froze. How long had it been since you’d been kissed? Quite a while, but that was irrelevant. What was relevant was the texture of his mouth and the heat of his body, the sharp sound of your surprised inhale and the rough stubble scraping against your chin. 

Fuck! Oh, fuck!

Separating your biological desires from your logical ones was suddenly out of your capabilities. The flicker of heat in your core grew to a scorching inferno as he ran his tongue over your lip, demanding entrance you were powerless to deny. The sheer wrongness of your dancing mouths had your heart galloping and blood rushing in your ears. 

And damn, did he taste good.

The inner voice that guided your steps for years, the one that kept you in control and maintained the mask of normalcy, the force that insisted you could never show your true self…

That which once held such power over you, now seemed so frail and weak.

Playing by the rules and coloring inside the lines, what did it really get you? A job that bored you, false friends and the respect of fools. Nothing worthwhile or truly meaningful, a life devoid of joy and purpose.

Damnit, this wasn’t part of the plan! You were supposed to be whole by now, fixed and undamaged. It was the reason you studied for so many years, worked so hard and spent countless hours searching for new treatment methods. 

You were broken, but you could fix it.

Right?

You fixed murderers; your own life should have been easy. Yet it was the hardest case of all, and you were so tired of pretending. Enough of the lies, enough of the secrecy and hidden agenda. Enough blending in and trying to be like everyone else. 

Enough hiding, enough smiling at every face as if you gave a damn about them. Enough empty words and masked words. Enough doing what you were told, and enough ignoring what you wanted.

Enough.

---V---

That brief taste of your skin seemed so long ago. The palest reflection of everything hidden just below the surface. The full-bodied flavor of your mouth was infinitely more dazzling. 

As he’d requested, his friends were silent. This part was his alone, and they would not spoil it by breaking his concentration. No doubt they’d share their thoughts later on, but for now…

For now, he had you all to himself. The softness of your wrists in his grasp and the scent of your skin had him reeling, each caress of your tongue adding gasoline to the fire of his need. You were teetering on the edge of letting go, he could feel it. All you needed was the right push.

The artist ground against your thigh, easing the ache in his cock by a minuscule fraction. The answering whimper was a thing of beauty, especially when coupled with the twitch of your hips. Images from his fantasies flooded his mind, visions of all the ways you could satisfy him. Mouth and fingers and oh, the velveteen walls of your core…

No! Restrain yourself, she isn’t there yet!

He forced himself to break the kiss and rested his forehead on yours, sharing each panted breath. What a glorious expression you wore, glassy eyed and swollen lips parted. Yes, you were worth being patient and careful. No one else would do.

“You see, doctor? You see how I can set you free?”

The corners of your lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “You say you’ll set me free while you restrain me. You really are insane.”

She’s got a point, pal.

“Hush, Griffon! Not now.”

Despite the infuriating interruption, he couldn’t deny that the mouthy demon was right. His fingers opened, relaxing enough for you to at last break his hold if you desired. A risk, but a necessary one to gain your trust.

Indeed, you jerked away from his grip and glared at him, but he didn’t step back. Freedom wasn’t something he could truly give you.

You had to take it.

With a wicked grin he rolled his hips once again, bracing his arms on either side of you to support his weight. Your hair smelled so good, and just the right length for pulling…

“Fuck!” you whispered.

Then he stepped back, when your voice and body conveyed the need he’d drawn out. 

“You’re free, now. What will you do with it?”

Truly, you were a wonder. Only tiny changes revealed your thoughts; less attentive eyes might not have spotted the hesitation or the hunger in your gaze. Yet the conclusion was inevitable, and as he watched resolve harden those lovely eyes he couldn't help but grin.

“Fuck it,” you growled.

This time it was you who closed the gap, pulling his head down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. Your hands pawed at his back, begging and pleading for more, and who would he be if he denied you now?

Tattooed fingers took hold of your ass and lifted. Lithe legs wrapped around his waist like a bear trap, forcing your core to meet his painfully hard cock. Sparks jumped from every nerve your hands caressed and flames devoured the last of his restraint as you mewled, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

The artist pinned you against the wall and brought one hand to your waist band. He didn’t hesitate and plunged his digits within, tracing the soft flesh hidden beneath. Positively divine, so soft and warm…

And wet…

He grinned and trailed kisses down your pulse, licking and suckling at the tender flesh as quiet moans spilled from your lips. A single fingernail scraped across your core, gathering the slick fluid as it traveled to the small nub of nerves nearby. 

“You see? You see what a delight it is to claim your freedom?”

“Fuck, please, just-“

He shattered your voice by pressing against your clit and rubbing. The lewd moan that rewarded him might become his favorite sound and he dragged his digit across again to hear it once more. 

Your small hands clawed at his back, hips rotating to rock against his hand. With his nose buried in the crux of your neck, he couldn’t see your face, but every stuttering breath you took guided his motion. A fine sheen of sweat broke out under his lips and he lapped at the salty fluid even as his hand drew more moisture from your body. 

Sinful noises filled the air, a symphony of pleasure his mind would play on repeat for days to come. He traced the silken flesh like it was the most precious canvas in the world, deliberately stroking and pressing into your most sensitive spots. 

“This is but a taste of what I can give you. Imagine it: total autonomy, each choice your own to make.”

“Ah-! Fuck, please!”

He hummed and sank his teeth into your shoulder, simultaneously burying two fingers in your wet heat with a lewd groan. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be just his fingers enjoying the welcoming tightness.

You scrabbled at his spine and keened his name, your legs pulling his hips closer on instinct alone. Obscene gasps and moans spilled form your lips as he curled his fingers and pistoned inside you. A tiny hint of copper leaked where his teeth cut your flesh, the perfect morsel for his depraved soul. 

“Ah-! Shit, I’m gonna-“

“That’s it, Y/N. Break your chains,” the artist hummed.

A final cry, the gentlest of flutters against his fingers. There it was, perfection in ecstasy. He lifted his head to watch your face, twisted in a mix of pleasure and pain.

He’d seen a face like that once before, the day his life changed forever. After the gunshots fell silent and blood soaked the auditorium floor. He was still trapped under Nero’s dead body, desperately trying to appear equally deceased.

A few feet away Becca lied on the floor, mascara-laden tears streaming from her eyes and terror painting her features. Drops of crimson splattered her cheeks. 

One of the shooters approached the poor girl and dragged her into position, splayed out across one of the larger patches of floor. Her blond hair reddened along with her face as the killer’s hands groped at her body. Her sobbing intensified and V’s heart clenched in sympathy.

I wish there was something I could do!

But to intervene would mean his death, of that he was certain. All he could do was bear witness. 

He watched in silence as the shooters took turns, each adding their own marks to her flesh. Not once did she beg for mercy, instead taking their abuse without a word. If only he were so strong…

The leader was last, identifiable by his swagger laden stride and massive weapon. He held the barrel to her neck and unzipped, gloved hands drawing out his hardened length. 

“Don’t worry, Becca. I know how to treat a lady,” the attacker growled.

Indeed, he took the time to guide her forcefully to bliss. His hands teased at her flesh and gently caressed the marks left by his comrades, praise and filthy phrases accompanying his touch. Even as choked sobs still leaked past her lips, moans and whimpers slowly mixed in. 

The artist’s heart broke for her. She was always kind to him, a vague sort of friendliness that was more than most bothered with. She didn’t deserve the cruelty she was receiving.

Nor did she deserve to have her body manipulated until a sharp cry broke through her tears. Only her face and part of her torso were visible, but it was enough. Her features twisted in ashamed pleasure, arms tightening as her spine arced off the bloody floor. Such a tortured expression, he’d never seen.

He closed his eyes, but there was no blocking the sound of the shot that claimed her life moments later.

---Reader---

“God damnit, V…”

Heartbeats after your peak, the artist’s face had lost all expression. He mumbled the same phrase over and over, in the grip of a powerful catatonic episode. Somehow, he didn’t drop you. Thank heavens for small mercies.

“Between two moments, bliss is ripe,” he murmured. Another small blessing – he didn’t shout.

Still. The longer he stayed like this, the more likely someone would wander across him.

And me…

With a few careful wiggles, you extricated yourself from his grasp to stand on the parquet flooring once more. The resistance he gave you was negligible; never had you seen him so helpless.

I could just… go.

He was a killer. He deserved justice, and all you had to do to make sure he got it was walk away. Leave him to his fate, abandon this strange man and let go of your fascination. After what happened, there was no chance he’d end up in your care again. You’d never have to see him for the rest of your life.

“Between two moments, bliss is ripe,” he repeated.

A sigh slipped from your pursed lips. There was still so much about him you didn’t know. To try to help him now would undoubtedly mean the end of your professional career, if it wasn’t beyond repair already. You knew where this road would lead; to death and blood.

But also to answers.

Is the cost too high? Is it worth it?

If only the court sent him somewhere else. Then, none of this would be an issue. The murderous artist would be someone else’s problem and you wouldn’t have to make such a ridiculous choice. Your life would still be on its planned trajectory.

Yet that life held little appeal, now. It was pointless to deny his madness, but equally so to deny the tornado he coaxed to life in your heart. Emotions more powerful than you’d ever experienced, not to mention what his lethal hands could do to your body. A single moment in his presence sparked more curiosity and unanswered questions than a year spent in solitude.

No. there’s no going back now.

With a muttered curse, you tugged his skull down to look at you. This was such a terrible idea. “V, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you can’t stay here.”

No response, as you’d expected. Plan B, then.

You took his hand and led him into the shadows, away from the beautifully painted canvas and bright display lights. It was fortunate he liked black, or the darkness wouldn’t hide him so well.

“Between two moments, bliss is ripe.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. C’mon, sit down.”

With a little prodding, he managed to take a seat on the floor. Time to get to work.

His glassy eyes refused to follow your finger, but his breathing sounded fine and there was no evidence of a seizure. Gentle taps resulted in appropriate twitches. Heartbeat normal. Physically, the man seemed completely fine.

Okay, all I have to do is wait and he should come out of it eventually.

Considering the last time he had one of these episodes, it lasted over an hour, you settled in beside him. Your jacket made a decent blanket and it was dark, hopefully enough to conceal you from prying eyes.

If it wasn’t, you knew you’d pay the price.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[moldbreakcr]

@sometimesrufus

ah, reno was often... something. unmedicated adhd and his personality was a hell of a combination. at least he was in a good mood today. "hey babygirl!" he yells to his boss, as though it were the most normal thing he could do.

[lailannajacobs]

Finally Got it Right

Pairing: Loki X Reader (AU) 

Request: Hi, I really enjoy your writing! There's an idea I've had in my head for awhile, and I was wondering if you would write it. Maybe a Loki x reader where the reader likes Loki but is really shy, and she keeps trying to ask him on a date but every time she tries Thor pops up and says something funny and ruins everything?

Warnings: mostly just fluff! 

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request my darling anon, I absolutely had a blast writing it!! I almost put this out in two smaller parts cause of the length, but then I figured, why not? Hope you enjoy! I really would love to hear what you think! <3

Somehow - you didn’t know how, - you had decided that today was the day. Today was the day you finally told Loki how you felt. Had you worked up the courage because you had enough evidence that he felt the same way? No. Were you telling him because you thought he would sweep you up in his arms like in a Harlequin novel and tell you he felt the same way, before showering you in a million kisses? Absolutely not. No, you decided it was time to tell him because you couldn’t stand the feelings that were eating you up inside. Honestly, the feelings made you feel like you were thirteen again - not that your feelings had changed much since then.

Growing up next door to the Odinson brothers, you had never been bored. You had also never had a crush as long-lasting as the one you had with the green eyed, dark haired brother that had been in your life for as long as you could remember. Sure you had had other partners, even ones that almost made you forget what you had seen in the person who had gone from a mischievous playmate to, quite frankly, an even more mischievous, dark and handsome adult. But none of them ever seemed to be able to hold your attention for as long as the boy next door could.

You had never lost touch with the brothers, even after you had moved away for college and had gotten a job miles away from them. But somehow, they had failed to mention that Loki had signed a lease on the apartment down the hall from yours. Thinking back on it now, you realized Loki had probably just wanted to see the look of surprise on your face when you saw the two of them carrying that leather sofa up the stairs to the sixth floor because it couldn’t fit in the elevator. If you were right, and that was exactly what he had wanted, it had been exactly what he had gotten.

You’d recognize that mane of blond hair anywhere. The only part that confused you, was why you were staring at it now. Last you had heard, he was about three towns over, running his own construction company. The only way you could know for sure that it was him was if… and when the sofa turned the corner and a mess of inky hair followed, it confirmed your suspicions.

“Idiots?” You asked with your usual loving tease in your voice.

Thor tipped his head backward so that he was looking at you upside down. A wide grin lit up his whole face. “Ah! Unofficial Odinson! We weren’t sure you’d be home!”

“And I didn’t think I’d find either of you in the apartment’s stairwell,” your surprise earned a familiar sly smirk, those green eyes alight. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

Loki cocked his head, “Did we forget to mention? I’m the new neighbour moving in across the hall.”

And just like that, your heart had done that little floppy thing it did every time you saw that look on his face, and you knew. You knew that date you were supposed to have later tonight wouldn’t be happening. Because as soon as they would invite you for a housewarming pizza - and you knew they would - there was no way you’d be able to say no. And the look on those two idiots’ faces told you they knew that as well.

You let out a sigh, “All right, what do you guys want me to bring up?”

Not even bothering to knock, you let yourself into Loki’s apartment. Your heart hammered in your chest and you weren’t sure that he couldn’t hear it but it didn’t matter. If he could, it would just have to be the opening you used to tell him that you thought of him as more than a friend - that you always had.

“Hey!” You announced looking around for him in the open 3 1/2. “I know you said you weren’t hungry but I made cookies this afternoon and I brought them over anyways.”

“What kind?” He shouted from what sounded like his bedroom.

Before popping one into your mouth you called, “Oatmeal raisin.”

You heard his chuckle and shook your head. The only reason why he claimed to like oatmeal raisin so much was because of how many times he had tricked his brother into thinking that Frigga had made chocolate chip cookies instead, and the little shit lived to see the horrified look on Thor’s face when he bit into a raisin. But despite how often he denied it, you knew Loki’s favourites were white chocolate macadamia.

Settling into the black, soft leather sofa, you wrapped his dark green blanket around you as if it could protect you from the sting of rejection. You couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t return your feelings, but your nervous and panicky mind was only churning out scenarios that changed your friendship for the worst. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him. Maybe you could just ask him on a date instead. That way, it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal.

The old floor boards creaked as he walked into the main room. “You didn’t burn them this time and that’s why you’re bringing them over, are you?”

“That was one time!” You defended, whipping your head around to scold him for even suggesting it.

Whatever you were about to say next died in your mouth. When you had assumed he had been talking to you from his bedroom, you had been right - only you just hadn’t realized where he had been right before then. His hair was still wet, drops falling onto his bare chest. You followed one particular drop from his peck along his abs until it reached that alluring v - your mind drifting off to a place you had been trying to steer it from since you were teenagers. Yanking your gaze back up to his eyes, you smiled and hoped he couldn’t tell where your mind had gone off to. If you did tell him tonight, you definitely didn’t want him thinking it was only to ogle him without shame.

“You bring over brunt cookies one time and nobody lets it go.” You said shaking your head.

He slipped on the black v-neck he had been holding and came to sit on the couch with you. “I believe that was on you for bringing burnt cookies in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. Should I have come over empty handed and expected you and your brother to just accept it? That would’ve been ten times worse.”

“That may be true.” He amended, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “What do you want to watch?”

His attention turned to the flatscreen as he began flicking through the options. You hesitated. The part of you that felt nauseous at the idea of confession your feelings told you to pick a movie and to tell him after. All you had to do was suggest anything, it really didn’t matter, and then you’d have at least forty-five more minutes to work up the courage to tell him. Taking in a deep breath you decided against it. You had been giving yourself another forty-five minutes since he had moved in across the hall.

“Actually Loki, I was hoping we could talk first.” You blurted out, your heart pounding in your chest and echoing like a bass in a night club.

You thought about excusing yourself to go to the bathroom first you were so nauseous, but before you could, he put down the remote and turned his body so toward you so that you had his full attention. It was one of the things that had always made you so attracted to Loki, but right now, you were almost wishing he wouldn’t look at you like that so that you could get the words out easier.

“(y/n), is something wrong? You’re using your serious voice.”

You let out a nervous laugh, looking down at the bag of cookies in your lap to avoid that piercing gaze, “No nothing’s wrong…”

“Then what is it? It isn’t every day that you can’t look at me in the eye when you want to tell me something. Last time that happened was when you broke my kettle.” He paused and pulled the blanket up higher over your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your neck as he said, his voice much lower than before, “You seem to forget that I know you almost as well as I know myself.”

If that were true, he would have known about your feelings ages ago. It still surprised you that someone as perceptive as he was hadn’t figured it out yet, but maybe, just maybe, him telling you this now was his way of telling you that he knew about your feelings and that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you came clean. Or that it wouldn’t be so bad to simply start with a date.

Deciding to take that as a sign to tell him and nothing else, you took in a courageous breath, “So here’s the thing. I’ve actually wanted to ask you this for some time now and I wasn’t sure how to do it before, and honestly I’m not sure where I should start or if anywhere is a good place to start for that matter, it’s just.” You stopped with a sigh, knowing your rambling probably made no sense to him.

His brows were furrowed and you could tell that you had the entirety of his attention.

“It’s just what?” He prodded, a funny look on his face.

“It’s just-”

Suddenly the door burst open and a jolly, “guess who came in for a surprise visit!” boomed through the apartment.

Your attention snapped up from your lap as you watched Thor bound through the room in a few quick strides. He ruffled Loki’s hair as he walked behind the couch and around to your side, and plopped down in between the two of you.

“Hello brother,” Loki smoothed down his hair, “Nice of you to knock first.”

“If it were anyone other than (y/n) I would have,” Thor said with a wide grin, that despite it, didn’t ease the way his words reminded you that Loki would probably never think of you in any romantic way, “but they’re family. Family doesn’t need to knock.”

You rolled your eyes, “That is flawed logic.”

He grinned, “It is. I just couldn’t think of a good reason as to why I hadn’t knocked first. And how are you little one?”

Thor had given you that nickname when you were children and, compared to him, you guessed you could have been called little one. It didn’t matter that you had both grown up to be full fledged adults, Thor couldn’t seem to let the name die.

“I’m good, it’s nice to see you Thor,” you lifted your bag of cookies, “I made chocolate chip cookies.”

Though your attention was focused on Thor, just behind him you could see the wily grin on Loki’s face. How the two of you were still this amused by something that was this childish was beyond you, but Thor’s face, being ever so trusting, made it worthwhile every time. As you waited for the inevitable to happen, your nervousness now fully replaced by the warm feeling of comfort that only came with these two idiots, you decided you’d leave your declaration for another day.

A few days later, Loki was in your kitchen making dinner. Although normally this wouldn’t have been anything special, today, it was. And that was because he shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

The evening had started out like any other. You had been prepping for a quick stir fry and a night in reading, when the chef’s knife you had been wielding slipped and sliced off the tip of your index finger. The knife had clattered to the floor, more from surprise than pain, and you had grabbed a tissue and ran to the bathroom. It didn’t take long before you had realized that this wasn’t something you could simply bandage up yourself.

When you had gone across the hall to ask Loki for help, you hadn’t expected him to open the door. After all, most people actually had plans on a Friday night. Turned out, even if he had opened the door for you, he had plans too.  You had taken in his dark dress shirt and pants, slicked back hair and had known he had a date. You had seen him leave for them too often in your life not to recognize the look and the spicy scent of his cologne. Looking at him was a reminder that you had never figured out how someone could radiate in black the way he could.

But before you could back out of asking for his help, his eyes zeroed in the finger wrapped in a blood soaked tissue.

“What happened?” He demanded, stepping out in the hallway to get a better look.

“It’s nothing. Just a little cut.” You said, realizing just how close he was now that he had your hand in his.

While he made his preliminary inspection, you realized you were holding in a breath, and watched as he turned your hand in his, rubbing his calloused fingers across your hand.

He looked up from the damage, his eyes finding yours. His voice practically a growl when he said, “This isn’t nothing.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you whispered, trying to find humour in the situation. “you know extremities, they bleed a lot.”

“We need to stop the bleeding.” He went to pull you toward your apartment but you dug your heels in.

“Don’t you have a date to get to?”

He shook his head, his hands still wrapped around yours, “this is more important.”

The words made your knees weak but you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other. When you made it back to your apartment’s bathroom, he took in the bloody mess you had made when you had tried to fix yourself up.

“Why didn’t you come to me first?” He asked, motioning for you to sit on the counter.

You raised a brow, “When have I ever done that?”

“Silly me,” The corner of his mouth quirked up, “how did I not realize that your stubbornness extended to missing extremities.”

“You should know it applies to everything.” You answered with a smirk that matched his. “And my extremity is not missing.”

“I should know.” He murmured, his gentle hands carefully unwrapping the tissue you had used as a bandage.

His hands were firm but he took care to make sure he didn’t hurt you as he cleaned out the cut. Moving with precision, his hands only brushed yours occasionally but it was enough to send shivers down your spine. He had gotten so close that his hair tickled your cheek but you couldn’t convince yourself to move any further away and as you watched him, his face scrunched up in concentration, you realized you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You had to tell him that when you looked into those green eyes, you felt more than friendship. And if he didn’t feel the same way, you could always blame your words on the shock and the loss of blood.

“Loki?” The name came out hoarse, as if you had strained your throat.

“hmm?” he kept his attention on your finger, the soft movements making you all too aware of his closeness.

You took in a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you?”

This caught his attention and he paused, finding your eyes. “Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk about the other day?”

“You remember that?”

You didn’t know if you were so surprised by his words because the feel of his hands on yours was so distracting or if you couldn’t believe he would remember something you hadn’t really gotten to say. Either way, the sly look in his eyes made you wonder if he knew exactly what you had wanted to ask him.

“I do listen to you when you talk, you know.” he smirked.

“it would seem you do. And yes it does actually have to do with it” You sighed. “The thing is-”

His ringing phone cut you off and you paused.

“It’s fine, keep going.” He said, not touching the phone in his pocket, finishing your bandage.

You waited until it finished ringing before trying again. “Okay well, I was wondering-”

Once again, the phone started ringing, louder than your pounding heart. “Just get it,” You let out a shaky breath, possibly of relief.

With an apologetic look on his face he answered, “Hello brother.”

Although he had barely been touching you, the loss of his body heat he backed up was impossible to miss. You weren’t really paying attention to his conversation, only you knew that whatever Thor had to say, he seemed to have a knack for interrupting your confessions. When Loki had skipped his date for you, you had assumed that it was a sign from the universe giving you the green light to tell him about your feelings. But maybe the real sign was Thor’s constant interruption. Maybe it was the universe telling you to keep your feelings to yourself - to keep things the way they were.

Seeing as you were patched up well enough to function, you hopped off the counter and went to go continue your dinner.

It didn’t take long for Loki to follow you in and take control of the kitchen.

“You know it was a scratch, I’m not dead.” You took a seat at your table. “I could have continued making dinner just fine.”

He began to sauté the vegetables. “Maybe, but then it would not have been as good.”

“We can’t all be wizards in the kitchen like you.” You grumbled.

He looked over his shoulder and shot you a cocky little smirk. It was the kind of smile that had always seemed to promise danger and adventure. It was also the kind that made your heart flutter every time. But this time, you tried even harder than usual to ignore what it did to you. The universe had told you to leave things as they were, and that’s what you were going to do. Everything was fine the way they had always been and you had to accept it and move on. You hadn’t gone on a date since Loki had moved in, and maybe it was time to do just that. Time to let go of that little hope that one day you would get the courage to ask him on a date. That little hope had gotten in the way of saying yes to your friend’s coworker she kept trying to set you up with and maybe it was time you said yes.  

Deciding to do just that, you spoke up but at the exact same time Loki opened his mouth, both of you pausing as you cut the other off.

“Go ahead.” You said, stalling.

“No, that’s all right. You first.” There was something in his voice that you had never heard before, but, unable to decipher it, you decided to speak up.

“You know, I’m fine to stay here on my own. I’m sure there’s still time for you to get to that date.” Although you could hear how forced the words sounded, you hoped all Loki heard was nonchalance.

“Oh,�� he paused, his face falling, almost as if he had expected you to say something else, “It’s too last minute now. It will have to be some other time that’s all.”

You hated how giddy that made you, “okay, well, I’m sorry anyways.”

He shrugged, “I’m more sorry that you lost a piece of your finger and that we had to throw away half of the broccoli.”

“I barely nicked my finger. ‘Piece’ feels like a gross exaggeration.” You rolled your eyes, despite the throbbing in your finger.  

Loki turned around to fully face you, the stir fry almost ready. He looked like he wanted to say something. You waited, your heart pounding in your chest with false hope that maybe, whatever he wanted to tell you, would have something to do with what you had been trying to tell him.

Suddenly, your door burst open and Thor came barreling through it. “(y/n)! I came as soon as Loki told me! How are you feeling? How is your finger? Which one did you lose?”

You glared at Loki, “You told him I lost a finger?”

“You know how things can get over the phone,” his lips spread into a sly grin, “miscommunication and all that. Isn’t that why the children’s game is so funny?”

“You’re a child.” You wished you were closer so that you could smack him but turned your attention to his brother. “Thor, I’m fine, it’s really not that bad.”

Thor, calming down somewhat at your words, picked up your hand as if it was a delicate  baby bird with a broken wing and looked it over. “Are you sure you’re all right? On a scale from no pain to the trampoline incident, what do you rate this?”

You pulled him into a hug, smiling at the comfort of one of your oldest friends, “I’m fine, seriously” You mumbled into his hair, “And this is nowhere near the trampoline incident.”

He pulled back looking more reassured, “Do you need anything?”

“No, everything’s good here.” You repeated.

“In that case,” he turned to his brother, “something smells delicious and I’m starving.”

After the food was long gone, the dishes cleared out and Thor had left after asking if you were really okay another three times, you watched Loki wash the remaining dishes that couldn’t go in your dishwasher.

“Thank you,” you said, sitting on the counter beside him, “You know I would’ve done them if I wasn’t afraid that the bandage would fall off.”

He looked over at you, a small smile on his lips, “I know you would have. Although I doubt you’re sorry about it. I know how much you hate doing them.”

You wanted to say that was because you enjoyed watching him do the dishes instead, his shirt sleeve rolled up to his elbows and that loose strand of hair always falling in his eyes every time he looked down, but you kept quiet and shrugged, not bothering to hide your smile.

Music played softly in the background and you let out sigh of content, wishing every evening could be like this one - minus the finger chopping. He worked in easy silence, your mind flitting from one unimportant thought to the next, sometimes landing on the man on your left. This was what home felt like and it had been something you had rarely felt since moving away.

“(y/n)?” His soft whisper broke you away from your thoughts.

His eyes were now a dark emerald, alight with his usual mischief and something else you couldn’t quite name. The look alone made you a little breathless.

“Yes?”

He took his time drying his hands, the movement capturing your attention, “I believe there was something you wanted to tell me earlier?” His voice was no louder than before, luring you in, despite the dangerous question.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”

“If you brought it up twice, I doubt it was nothing.” A laugh rumbled in his chest as he folded the dish towel, slow and meticulous. “I’d very much like to know what it was.”

“Really. I can’t even remember what it was.” You stammered, that look in his eyes making you glad you weren’t standing.

The words earned you a small, cunning curve of his lips. “Are you sure?”

The only thing you trusted yourself to do was nod, especially as he placed the towel down and took a step around your leg, his finger brushing it every so slightly. “ I don’t seem to believe you.” He whispered.

He moved until he stood directly in front of you, barely a foot away. The featherlight contact sent your heart racing, his eyes holding yours captive as you waited to see what he would do next. You wanted to pull him closer and put your lips on his but you needed to say what you had been trying to for the past few days. But with the way he was behaving, confessing didn’t seem so terrifying now.

Your gaze dropped to his finger that was lazily tracing swirls on your thigh, and you murmured, “I think you know exactly what I was going to say.”

“It seems to be slipping my mind” he whispered, as he inched closer, his fingers traveling from your thigh to the exposed skin at the collar your shirt up and to your cheek. Your breathing hitched and you cursed your body for being so traitorous. His thumb brushed against your cheek, “maybe you can help jog my memory.”

Then his lips were on yours and you wondered why the hell you had ever waited so long to try tell him.

[t-citurnity-moved]

HEY TALK ABOUT YOUR LOVES

Ohohohoho.

My thoughts are more or less about the boys, BUT I feel like I also need to provide context because this series has been such a huge part of my life.

So, therefore, let's start at the beginning.

GOD THIS GOT SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THOTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I have been part of the fanbase (not gonna say fandom, because that implies I'm active at all in the d//m//c "community" when I absolutely am not) since before 2010. That's 10+ years of enjoyment in this series. 10+ years I've been holding onto my feelings because I wasn't sure if it was right to love fictional characters. I still wrote and roleplayed with other people who were also in the fanbase, because... well, writing OC / Canon at the time was the closest anyone could get to saying "I want to date this character and not be judged." (But we all know that even then, if the OC wasn't written a specific way then they'd be considered a sue / stu; don't even get me started there.)

I fell in love with Dante first. He was the main character up until Nero starred in D//M//C4! So why wouldn't I love him? The first piece of media in which I really broke into the series was the anime and that's only because I really loved anime at the time (now not so much, mostly because I don't have attention span, etc). And boy... ohoho boy. I loved him even more. I think it's partly because that was my first real look into the series that I love D//M//C2 so much, because I'm more inclined toward the ""edgy"" side of Dante; wacky wahoo pizza man is cool and all, but I also love retrospective Dante who's a bit serious. Doesn't mean he's not the same Dante, because he absolutely is. But I hate how the fanbase portrays him sometimes. (The same fanbase that hates D//M//C2 and probably hates the reboot too, BUT I'LL TOUCH UPON THAT IN A MOMENT.)

The fact that Dante can be a serious person when he needs to be (or even if he's like... killed his brother several times and is therefore entering into a depressive state because who tf wouldn't) seems lost on a lot of people and it makes me sad. Because when I first really started branching into the fandom, I was (and still am) the same way... I just feel like 2Dante and Anime Dante are just... more relatable? So I lean toward them more than anything because I can understand them more? Because I too have depression and struggle with it? (By no means am I saying that 4/5 Dante don't have depression, I just think at that point he deals with it differently. I have a lot of headcanon there and that in and of itself is a whole ass different discussion. I also think discovering that Nero is Vergil's son / his nephew also helps him handle his depression as well, because "wow... at least I still have some part of Vergil left, even if it is only his kid" plays a bit role in how Dante recovers, BUT THAT'S JUST WHAT I THINK.)

I even think 3Dante has some level of depression going on, even thouh that's the start of the series and it doesn't really start going downhill until after those events. I mean, losing his mother at a young age and also thinking he lost Vergil until, SURPRISE SURPRISE, Vergil invites him to a "bash" which is really just some ploy to gain power? I just think at that point, it's manageable for him; he doesn't struggle with it nearly as much as he does in 2 + Anime.  That being said, the fact that he's so """wacky wahoo""" also leads me to conclusion that, even if it is "manageable," he does still struggle at times and I feel probably overwhelms him at times, so he tries to manage BY being upbeat about things. Which, anyone who has depression knows, is so fucking difficult to do. The fact that Dante can keep going despite all this shit going on in his life makes ME feel like I can keep going.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON VERGIL AND HIS PROBLEMS. Dude just wanted to be protected and loved.

Actually, LET ME get started on that. Because I have a lot of thots.

Vergil grew up believing their mother chose Dante over him. That she didn't try to save him. That Dante was more important to her than he was. He grew up with this inferiority complex because he didn't know WHY their mother never came to save him. He also grew up thinking he wasn't strong enough to save HER. That's why he actively sought out power, while believing humans were "weak." That's why he manifested this hatred for being half-human. Because he couldn't save his family and, for a long time, he was led to believe his mother didn't care for him nearly as much as she cared for Dante (IE. "saving" Dante, but not Vergil).

Vergil's thirst for power is just misdirected feelings toward his family. He should've been mad at demons for attacking them in the first place, but because he grew up believing what he did, it became hatred toward humans instead. That's why he hated Dante, too. In reality, I don't think he really "hates" Dante, just feels severely inferior (which he veils by """having""" a superiority complex instead of the opposite, which he actually has). I think he just had a lot of conflicted emotions that he was never able to work through. Which is why I love the idea that he and Dante, post-D//M//C5 could reconcile at some point. Because neither of them really hated each other, they just had conflicting viewpoints due to one event that go thrown out of proportion somewhere along the way. Vergil just wanted what Dante had, which he perceived as the love of their mother, because she "chose" to save Dante instead of him. In reality, she tried to go after Vergil too, but simply didn't survive. Vergil was entirely unaware of this, so obviously he'd be upset. It's the crux of all his problems.

Vergil HIMSELF even theorises what would happen if they switched places that day! He wonders what would happen if he and Dante's lives were swapped! (Which, TBH, would be a pretty neat AU, heheheheh.) Legit! "If our positions were switched... would I have your life? And you mine?" DUDE WANTED TO KNOW!!! He wanted to know what it was like to BE Dante, to be LOVED, to be PROTECTED by the ONE PERSON they had in their lives at the time! They only had their mother, so OF COURSE Vergil would be upset due to the circumstances! HE JUST WANTED TO BE PROTECTED AND LOVED.

3Vergil doesn't show much of this side of him, because he's just angry and going through a lot and he JUST wanted to be powerful enough that no one could hurt him any more. He would NEVER say this, but dude....... You cannot convince me this dude just wanted to be powerful to keep himself safe. To feel like he finally would've had enough power to protect the people he loves AND himself. He just didn't want to be hurt again. This is, by NO MEANS, an excuse for his actions. It's an explanation. His actions shouldn't be excused because of his ~ f e e l i n g s ~, but I firmly believe that post-D//M//C5, he could redeem himself for these actions. For everything he's done, he can realise it's wrong. He can grow to be a better person. He can reconcile with Dante and even be a good father to Nero. He can be better and I want to believe that he WOULD be better. After everything V went through, discovering that he doesn't really want to be the person he used to, Vergil can change and be better.

OOFIES. This has gone on long, BUT I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE REBOOT BOYS THAT I STRUGGLE TO PUT INTO WORDS, SO BEAR WITH ME IF THIS SEEMS STUPID OR GARBLED.

Context for the reboot: It's basically a remake of the series that got poor reception because people struggle to accept change. :) I will not debate this and anyone who wants to come at me can eat my socks.

Dante 2.0, like original Dante, HAS PROBLEMS. He's an edgy punk bitch who has problems and he's so ugly I love him.

This dude went his entire life struggling with his identity as someone "human." At one point, he was so convinced he didn't have a heart that he ripped open his own chest to see if he did. Yeah. Dude has issues. But it's ok, because in game, he legitimately sets aside his own issues with people to save humanity. Dude's got such BDE.

People hate him, but I feel like they fail to realise what the hell he's been through. He's been through just as much shit as original Dante. Same goes for Vergil 2.0. These boys have been through SO MUCH, but people don't see that because "Nooo!! You can't just remake the series!!!" Meanwhile I'm like "hehe handsome nephilim boys go brrr."

I literally cannot begin to explain the amount of hate people have for the reboot and it makes me sad, because... like.... y'all.... don't realise... these dudes... went through so much shit..... and yeah... I get it... remake bad, original good, but dude.... my dude.... my bro.... you do not have to hate it that much.... calm down, it's just a video game....

My dude Dante grew up in the system because the foster homes and shit he got placed in were run by demons!!! So he'd lash out at them!!! He was violent because demons suck!! They killed his mom and enslaved his dad!!! Imagine!!! Being surprised by that!!! When you know what he went through!!! Damn, couldn't be me!!!

Vergil went through some shit too!!! Like!!! Yeah, he was adopted into a rich family and lived a pretty cushy life, but fact of the matter is!!! Their parents died and they had their memories WIPED when they were kids!!! Imagine!!! The distraught!!! When he (since he found out who he was long before Dante did) realised what had happened!!! When he remembered!! When he discovered he wasn't human!! My dude founded a whole ass group of demon hunting hactivists because he knew demons sucked and wanted to make the world a better place. It wasn't until after Mundus (big stinky demon man) died that he started realising how frail humans could be and decided to be an asshole about it.

I'm so sad that there will never be any more about the reboot, because fans decided to be assholes about it. I'm so sad that we'll never learn more about what happened to those boys. I'm so sad that we'll never be able to see whether they reconcile or even have the opportunity to.

Alas, I have to rely on heavy headcanon and personal re-write of the story to fix canon instead. :<

[twodrfters]

   ‘ who am i ? who am i ? what are you even saying ?             i’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing – ’ 

   was that kim jiwoo ? oh no no , that was just spinel , a canon character from steven universe . they are nineteen years old and are not aware that they are not actually from washington dc . too bad they can’t stray from this city for long .

how long has your character been here

   spinel has been here long enough to adapt . about six months ?? is convinced she moved here from out of state to further her career bc the underground scene in dc was supposed to be bitchin . 

what is your character’s job

    band member !! i don’t have a band name yet but its probably something really fucking stupid . doesn’t make sense but she likes it that way . 

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

   she’s been pulled from the end of the movie but it doesn’t matter bc she doesn’t remember much which is great . she’s still emo though so that’s cool but she thinks she’s fucked up bc of a recent breakup which mirrors her canon situation w pink diamond bc aha i love to hurt .

has any magic affected your character

   she has no memories and she’s human !! no gem but she has a birthmark where it should be . eats , sleeps , spazzes like a human . maybe something she’d appreciate if she did remember everything sghsjk

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

before washington ;

   born to be nothing more than a playmate . someone to keep the other entertained and happy . she lived for her smile , her laughter . she wouldn’t have it any other way . they were playing a game , or at least that’s what she was told . stand very still in the rose garden , she said , don’t move and you’ll win . and so she stayed still for 6,000 years in fact . spinel found herself wondering if she was playing right as the roses around her began to whither . but still she stayed hopeful , hands clasped as tired reddened eyes continued to wait for the other’s return .

 she never came back . it was during a special broadcast from his son that she realized that her friend deserted her , she never came back to her . she was forgotten and thrown away and there was nothing she could do about it … other than ruin her son’s happily ever after . yeah , that felt right .

she tries her best to do so , undoing her character development after doing the same to his friends . we see her as she was before everything and when she remembers , she comes to terms with that happened . she works on herself w steven , trying her best to be his friend . it backfires as she soon feels scared he’s going to discard her like his mother did even though that is not the case . she’s scared and confused and so she continues with her plan to destroy the world .

it doesn’t work out though thanks to the gems and steven . her plan is foiled and she realizes what she did was wrong and that she also did nothing to deserve what happened to her . in the end she is sent to live with the diamonds in homeworld in order for the four of them to truly grow and start anew .

now , here in washington ;

she’s spinel ‘ ‘nel ‘ flowers . she watched scott pilgrim and was immediately whipped thank u v much . she’s also now a human so she needs to eat and sleep , her gem now replaced with a small tattoo of it instead . she’s physically eighteen y/o and is currently a member in a band . she’s main vocals , screaming her heart with a mic in her hand during their underground performances . may look cool on stage thanks to her outfits n makeup which she works on a lot but is a huge goof . her act mimics mars argo , imagine sweet girl singing unusual and eerie songs like USING YOU !!

 wanted to be an entertainer but being called a Clown as a profession was a lil turn off . so she’s sticking w the band scene . @ me if u want to plot this out or add ur character to the band bc  , , , she needs people GSJSSJ

young new york accent , think harley quinn , anyone could take one look at her and her mannerisms and swear she’s from another time ( because she is ) and she takes it as a compliment . find her constantly doing stupid shit when she’s not on stage , however . she lives for chaos and a good laugh , so much that she’d do quite literally anything for a good time . yes , poor girl is a vandal but she thinks she pulls it off quite nicely .

she’s living at her own shitty apartment , it’s small and cramped but has a homey feeling . it’s full of flowers and plants that she takes care of , her room looking more like a greenhouse than anything . pictures all over the wall as well as album art . a huge paramore and pup fan thank u very much . when a plant dies she holds a memorial service and expects everyone to come . says the stupidest shit , sometimes very crude things but she means well . can be impulsive and brash though . will get into verbal fights for the fun of it . can be seen usually as chill and uncaring though , doesn’t care about other’s opinions , only those she cares about .  

her old tendencies shine the most with said people . she lives to make her friends smile and laugh , will act up just for a chuckle , worries the most when they’re not okay .

spinel’s going through a rough patch though but she blames it on her recent bad breakup . as she closes her eyes for some good night’s rest , she finds her mind drifting to a distant place . she can smell roses , feet the grass beneath her feet , swear she sees the stars passing over her head vividly . such trances used to make her feel peaceful but lately they’ve been driving her insane . it doesn’t feel peaceful anymore . she feels like she can’t wake up from the dream sometimes , like she’s stuck there forever . due to this she tends to be a little more erratic and irritable but she’s trying her best to be okay .

 remembers bits and pieces of her canon . remembers the crystal gems , steven and pink but only their faces . when it comes to pink diamond however she remembers the various feelings felt . happiness , sadness and anger but no specifics . she’s convinced pink diamond and her were childhood friends or something . but she doesn’t talk about . she doesn’t want to since she always gets in a tizzy when she does .

[sue0227]

@ceeridwen99

Hello there～Well here I am! Just finished reading this absolutely brilliant fic The Creator in 3 maybe 4 days and they were days that filled with a mix of emotions and a lot of tears. And yes I've got like a truck load of things I wanna write down about this fic. Buckle up and here they come. :p

* I'll start with our lovely couples in this fic. >v<

For Markus and Simon, I must say these two are just so cute and sweet despite all those angst scenes of them. Their relationship reminds me of the relationship between soulmates and they indeed have that love and trust toward each other. It's so natural to regard them both as one like if Markus is mentioned then Simon has got to be there by his side. Even though Simon didn't really stand by Markus's side when it came to the climax of this story, he still could be found in Markus's mind, which, I think, had already stressed their deep and close affinity. Their interaction is something really sweet and soft to read. Like the one that Simon brought suits to Markus and the latter basically teased Simon while the former, despite trying to act like a professional assistant / secretary, was blushed because of Markus. I find these kinds of details highly adorable! I also love (though maybe a little bit hurt to read) that they always worry about each other instead of worrying themselves and this emotion in some way supports them going through all those hard times. Markus would think of Simon and tried to be brave and strong for him when he was at the edge of breakdown, while Simon had already had a great amount of courage to be just even exist considering that he had always carried that terrible virus inside him and the dread that he may be taken away from people he loved and cared, not to mention that he had always been Markus' side and comforted him when things went badly. Compared to kamcon, the relationship between Simon and Markus is rather open and easy to read. Although Simon didn't tell his past to Markus at the beginning, he still was a very devoted lover who was always willing to support Markus and fight to the very end while Markus always loved and cared about him even willing to give his own life for Simon. They're just perfect for each other!

For Elijah and Connor, their relationship is truly touching and powerful! It was really a slow-built relationship in which Connor was uncertain and even terrified by his feelings toward the creator while Elijah was so ambiguous and hard to guess. I was really trilled and happy to read that Connor decided to express what he had been thinking and all his love to Elijah yet Elijah seemed not that excited to accept his love. I thought he was just a reserved person who won't show his emotional fluctuation. It was hurtful to read that he and Connor once had already been together and it didn't end well( maybe tragic is a more accurate word). It really brought me into tears while reading the part that Elijah told what happened between him and Connor in the past in front of all those people. And I've found a strong emotional resonance in a song called Feel Something by Adam Lambert, which I think can't be more suitable for this relationship between Elijah and Connor. One had been waiting lonely for years and the other just sought and self-struggled so many times. It was beyond happy for me to read that they finally found each other and stood side by side after all those suffering. The fact that Connor couldn't forget Elijah even after being reset was a true testimony of their unbreakable love and this love shocked me to my very core while reading it.

And I think simarkus and kamcon in this fic have something in common, which is their way of acting when dangers come. They always put their partners' safety first and would self-sacrifice for their lovers. It can be hurtful yet still really touching to read. While their interactions are different, certain similarities can be found in their deep and strong love toward each other.

* About characters

Markus: He's still this leader figure who are strong, firm and determined. He would get lost sometimes and grow self-doubt kind of emotion about himself, but he always chooses to confront them instead of escaping from them. Markus always puts the well-being of Simon and his people as priority. It's good to learn that Markus wants to win the revolution and Androids' rights not only because he wants to fight for his people but also mostly because he wants to guarantee Simon's wishes of living peacefully, which makes him very human and real.

Simon: awww he's such a cinnamon roll! Simon is such a strong and caring soul, and he always gives me the impression of peace and hidden passion. He's shy but he won't hide his feelings and love toward Markus. He's emotional but he has the hidden firmness that is strong enough to overcome any obstacles. And the part where Simon got angry and snapped in front of everyone really startled me a little bit during my reading. The rage of a kind man can be really frightening. :p

Connor: He's a cutie pie who always has something bothering him and very easy to take all the blame on himself even though it's really not his fault. He's loyal, devoted and brave even maybe a little bit reckless (especially when it comes to something involving Elijah). He's always seeking his true self and his feelings and emotions toward Elijah and other people. And he can be the life saver just on the right time like he showed up in the Stratford Tower just in time to save Markus(this also reminds me of how he showed up and saved both Simon and Markus at the end of your another fic wait for it >v<).

Elijah: Elijah in this fic is almost like what I've imagined he should be. He's brilliantly smart and clever, and he's really quick on thinking like when they went to Stratford tower and Markus couldn't decide how to deal with those two RK-900, Elijah gave his quick and logical thought. And he can be a helpless romantic even a little bit of a dork when it comes to love and relationship. Elijah loves his creation and has a strong sense of responsibility for them, which I think is admirable. Plus he would blush when talking about Connor and their relationship, that makes him a cutie too.>v<

Chloe: OMG just the mention of her name makes me wanna cry! There's actually not too many words about her in the fic except her action of shooting Elijah and her suicide(I tend to use this word because I really regard her as a conscious human being) yet she leaves this strong and clear impression of her deep and unconditional love for Elijah. I haven't really had any strong feelings toward her in the game, but I really REALLY grow to love her after reading this fic. That's something new and great (though heartbroken) for me to discover by reading your fic. Even though her death is so devastating for me to read, I'm still grateful for you to depict this character in such an amazing way. TvT

Jason: oh dear here come my tears. At first I've thought he maybe the mastermind behind all those evil plots and just pretended to be awkward and timid like Moriaty in BBC Sherlock. I hadn't fully trusted him until he died in Elijah's arms and that made me so so so sad (and his final kiss with Elijah ahhhh T_T)! At that point I felt so guilty and shameful for not trusting him and judging him based on some unreasonable bias. And the revealing of his deep and unchangeable love for Elijah made me cry like hell. T_T And thanks to him for creating Fortune who basically saved our main characters family and the world, he's really a nice and warm guy. Even though I ship kamcon, I still have this little hope that Elijah could have this tiny place in his heart to remember Jason and all the sacrifice he has done for Elijah. It isn't necessarily in any romantic way but in a way of remembering a dearest friend.

Fortune: I've thought he's like that evil AI the Samaritan in Person of Interest at first but he turns out to be another cutie pie.>v< It's really a lovely part to read that the fragment Fortune has already been disturbed by all those emotions and feelings that he cannot really understand. It's really something new and fascinating to think about as could AI go deviant like Androids? Also he has helped the main characters family a lot and his sacrifice at the end is truly a powerful and touching part to read. It's indeed a relief and joy to read that Elijah has prepared him a backup code and then has created him a new and suitable hosting body.

Philip Seymore: aha this villain! He’s a sad and pathetic man who are destroyed by hatred and his traumatic past. I hate him because he’s responsible for Jason’s death and all those horrible things he’s done to main characters and other innocent Androids and human. While I still pity him. Judging by his military experience, I think he once was a man who had faith and purposes that was worth him fighting for(mainly for his wife and daughter I think). He actually had already gone mad when his family was killed. The rage of losing someone whom he held dearest had blinded him from seeing things clearly. It might be reasonable to purge all the evil in the world yet there are two points in this issue that he failed to understand. One is that all the evil and bad things in this world, in some way, cannot be completely eliminated. It, along with righteousness, has to reach some kind of delicate balance. Another point is that it has already become a crime when purging evil at all costs without even caring how many lives have suffered and been wasted. I’m quite satisfied with his end tbh. Despite that he’s committed those unforgivable crimes and I really want to see him rotten in jail, this end in fic is actually well written. He had lost all his sanity and faith before he died. Everything crumbled in front of him and his heart was indeed dead. It seems that he’s got off easily yet I think he had been suffering all those years and died in vain. He really deserves such an end.

North: uhhhhh North... I really don’t care about this character tbh (sorry North) yet I don’t hate her. The kiss she shared with Markus at the end of peace line in the game is kind of cliche. And I totally agree with your opinions about North that this character is wasted. I actually want to see an independent and strong female figure who can reinvent herself in Jericho after escaping from her horrible past. I kind of don’t like her being so attached to Markus and even insulting Simon because she thought Simon “stole away” Markus. I was quite relieved when I read that she kind of decided to move on from Markus and embrace her new life though she was still so angry. I have to admit that I’m kind of numb about her death. I want to see her to find her true self and stop being that angry and maybe find her own happiness and peace. I think you’ve already granted her many of it except a happy ending. As a shipper of Simarkus, that’s all I want to talk about this character.

As for other characters:

Hank: Hank our dear Hank! He’s such a grumpy and cute old man. He can be harsh on words but soft in heart. I always regard him as a father figure and a good friend to Connor. And his interaction with Elijah always cracks me up. Yeah he’s adorable~~

Gavin and Allen: Correct me if I’m wrong but I kind of feel some gay vibe between these two in the fic. →v→ Gavin is still an asshole but really a good police officer. And Captain Allen also is a devoted SWAT police. What they’ve said before leaving Cyberlife facility for their duty (they would fight till the last for they’re police and it’s their job to protect people) is truly touching. And the way Allen interacts with Ethan really warms my heart.

Ethan: He’s an angel sent by God to Simon and Markus right? I really really want to see some kid fic / family fluff about this lovely family!! It truly warms my heart. >v<

*List some of my favourite parts of this fic (or some awesome and making-me-wanna-scream parts). It’s actually more than what I’ve listed but these parts are the most impressive ones.

· Connor saved Elijah from Chloe’ s shooting. This is basically the very first tense part of this fic. I’ve already knew something would happen to Elijah because of the summary but I’ve never expected it to be so intense and amazing! When I read that “Elijah’s heart stopped.” I was like “omg now I’m feeling my heart is stopped!” It’s intense and brilliant and I love it! So I will catalog this one to the most intense part of this fic.

· Chloe’ s suicide. It hurts. It’s intense but also very sad. I was like “oh no no no no no somebody do something stop her omg Elijah just fix her”when I read the part she decided to die in order to protect Elijah. I really couldn’t accept that Chloe is dead along with the other two. It’s the most painful part to read in this fic. T_T

· The Cyberlife Gala. I didn’t really sense anything wrong when I read that they decided to attend this Gala. So it came as a shock when I read that someone shot Connor, Jason and even Simon!(omg you don’t know how astounded I was I was so afraid that Simon would die). The part where Jason died in Elijah’s arms after a final kiss is indeed a strong emotional impact. Besides the shooting, I find the part where Elijah danced with Connor is also a nice one to read. I felt so much when I read this part so I think this is a part that holds the most mix feelings of mine.

· Connor and Elijah sneaked into that secret Cyberlife facility looking for Fortune’s code. I had a very bad feeling when I read that Connor and Elijah lied to each other in their promises. My mind was full of “oh no this is not a good sign something would definitely go wrong and these two what are they doing lying to each other it’s too intense I can’t take it!” This part can be intense even stressful to read. I felt so relieved when they all got out despite a few injuries. Nothing really bad happened and I just thought too much before. So this part clearly becomes the most stressful part in this fic.

· Simon was forced to leave Markus in the forest on their way to Washington. I cried so hard in reading this part. It was intense when they escaped from their crashed car(the moment reminded me of Simon’ s last car accident uhhhh) and then it was so heartbreaking that Markus had to decide to make Simon and Ethan run away without him. I actually couldn’t remember how I really feel about this part because I just cried so hard. :p This part stole so much of my tears but I still love it. TvT

· The part from Markus’ s capture to the death of Seymore. Those chapters are the climax of this fic and they’re really thrilling, intense, brilliant and amazing to read! Markus broke the code that controlled him and Connor got away from Cyberlife’ s manipulation. Their fight in Stratford Tower with Seymore and RK-900 (nice exploration of a deviant RK-900!). I almost got this feeling of watching an action movie during my reading. They’re really great! So I think this can be the most splendid part of this fic.

· Simon and Markus’ s wedding. OMG OMG OMG the wedding!! THEIR WEDDING!!! I actually got quite confused when I started reading this chapter and I almost screamed and jumped when I read that Simon was in an all-white suit and something about an aisle!! My eyes had already filled with tears when I read that they were exchanging vows and rings. Too many tears that I couldn’t read properly (Call me a cry baby but I just couldn’t control it). The wedding is SO sweet, lovely and warm to read. I think I must be overjoyed about this part. I think this wedding part is the most beautiful part of this fic and I love it so much!!!

*About the sequel

Please please please do a sequel! I’ve read your A/N and I’m wholeheartedly looking forward this sequel. I just really want to read something about the sweet and warm family life of Simon, Markus and Ethan also the love stories and maybe the wedding of Connor and Elijah!! But I’ll be more than happy to read whatever you decide to write in the sequel. >v<

*OK this is fangirl time >v<

Here is a special part that I want to express my love to you and your works. Thank you for creating so many brilliant works! I really love the way you write your fics. You depict the most touching and wonderful stories with brilliantly arranged plots and simple yet powerful words.

I also want to say something about shipping kamcon. I didn’t really ship this when I first discovered your fic Wait For It on AO3 after a random Simarkus’ tag search. It stirred my curiosity though. I was attracted to this couple after I read your fic A Mutually Beneficial Agreement, which, by the way, is also an amazing fic. And now I’m a complete shipper of Kamcon thanks to your wonderful fics! I feel so lucky that I didn’t miss this wonderful pairs. Thanks for showing me how great and sweet they are! >v<

So that’s almost everything that I feel and think about your story The Creator after reading it. Sorry it gets so long and maybe full of grammar errors. :p Thanks for your reading and also thanks for your replies to my AO3 comments and my Twitter. <3333333333