#wait i think i saw a CW list somewhere it might be one of those games wher i gotta watch someone else play and skip past some parts..

[samthecookielord]

(reading the Clides) you should play zero escape it;s like if they made timeclive into a real video game

-idiot white guys accidentally time travelling 40 million times and being really funny about it

- people in states of half existence due to time travel reasons

among others

Perchance.....perchance.....

[babbushka]

Because we’ve been talking about it and because it’s a favorite mood, how about some agressive, possessive, scary Flip busting the heads of some deserving creeps for sinday? If you feel like it of course! Angry/winding down smut is always fun if you’re in the mood too! 💗

Anonymous said: Omg from the kink list can you please write something with Flip and the following kinks? Or any of them? Possessive. Marking. Size kink. Public sex. I’m excited for sinday! Thank you for hosting it! 🖤

(2.3k, Young!Flip & his girl and just dating in this ficlet! cw: mentioned harassment, graphic descriptions of violence. NSFW: possessive behavior, marking, PIV) 

Rain pours down hard and heavy on the roof of the CSPD, as Flip and Jimmy hang around the station late at night. They’re rookies, so they get the worst fuckin’ shifts, but at the very least things aren’t too busy at an hour like this. Their shift is just about over as a matter of fact, they even changed out of their uniforms and are about to walk out of the station when the phone rings.

Officially off duty, Flip and Jimmy play around for a couple seconds debating between the two of them who is going to pick up, and on the fourth ring, Flip answers it with a tired, “Officer Zimmerman speaking.”

He isn’t too sure what he’s expecting, but hearing the cold shiver of your voice shuddering through the phone sure as shit isn’t it.

“Flip? Honey it’s me – can you come get me?” You sound terrified, and cold, and scared – and Flip’s blood freezes in his veins.

Jimmy can sense something is wrong too, just from the way Flip goes deathly still, listening to the surroundings and trying to make out where you’re calling him from. The rain sounds so loud, he knows you’re not at home.

“What’s the matter? Where are you?” He demands, suddenly frantic, rushing around to grab everything he needs to get the fuck out of there and get over to you.

“At the payphone on the corner of Johnson and 8th. Please can you just come get me?” You sniffle, and Flip sees spots, rage blinding him.

“Stay right there, you hear me? Don’t leave, Jimmy is going to stay on the line with you.” He doesn’t say anything to his friend, just shoves the phone into his hand and races to his car.

It takes less than five minutes for him to speed through the nearly empty streets, holding his breath along the way. His thumbs rap against the steering wheel anxiously, conjuring up all sorts of horrifying things that could’ve happened to you. When he pulls to the curb on the corner of Johnson and 8th, and sees you cold and alone in that little payphone, he tries his best not to scream.

You race to the side of his car and get settled in the passenger seat, letting out a breath that you had been holding too as you cry a little into your hands.

“What happened?” Flip asks, voice moving too quick, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay I – ”

“Who did what to you?” He demands, making sure you’re buckled in sweetly and kissing you on the cheek, cranking the heat so the cold doesn’t settle into your wet clothes.

Flip peals out onto the pavement again, practically flooring it, not even really knowing where he’s taking you, just wanting to take you somewhere safe.

“You know the fella that lives across the street? Tommy? The nice fella who always helped cut the lawn?” You hiccup.

“Yeah?” Flip’s jaw is clenched so tight he’s sure it’s going to snap, white-knuckle grip on the wheel.

“I was walking home from the store and he pulled up and asked if I wanted a ride, because it’s late and was about to rain.” Your voice wobbles around the story, and somewhere in the back of his head, Flip is relieved that you’re yourself enough to tell a whole story. You never did get straight to the point, it’s one of the things he loved about you.

“Yeah?” He encourages anyway, letting the sound of your voice, wobbly though it may be, soothe his frazzled nerves.

“So I said yes but then he started to touch me and I said to stop, he didn’t stop, he grabbed me so I hit him and he hit me back and then he pushed me out of the car.” Your voice cracks on that, and there go Flip’s nerves.

Like he’s gunning for the coca-cola 500, Flip tears through the streets and blows through every red light, keeping one hand in yours the whole time. It isn’t long before he pulls up to your neighborhood, your house just a few blocks away from his own. The porchlight is off, meaning your parents aren’t home yet.

Across the street, Tommy’s porchlight is on.

“Ketsl why don’t you go inside, wash those tears off your face.” Flip says, his voice dangerously calm.

“’Kay. Love you.” You kiss his cheek, the tears mostly stopped.

“Love you too, I’ll be right in.” He taps the underside of your chin with his finger, and waits for you to get all the way inside your house, door closed behind you, before he gets out of his car.

Hidden in the glove-compartment is a small pistol, not one that’s issued by the CSPD or anything, just a small something that he bought a couple years ago just in case of an emergency. He doesn’t think twice about taking it and sticking it in the waistband of his trousers, and walks across the street in the pouring rain, to Tommy’s house.

Flip had been dating you for a couple months now, and he’s picked you up and dropped you off more times than he could count. He recognizes Tommy’s car in the driveway, and is glad that it’s the only one there, as he cracks the joints in his neck and rings the doorbell.

A moment or two goes by before the shitbag himself answers, his perfectly parted blonde hair backlit by the overhead light behind him. Flip also happens to notice the black-eye he’s sporting, and knows that must have been from you.

Tommy eyes Flip up and down, recognizing him too.

“What the fuck do you want – ow! Hey! Fuck!” Tommy doesn’t get very far before Flip has pulled out the gun from his waist, and cracks him across the face with it.

On the first hit, Tommy crumples to the ground, hands up, defensive, trying to shield his face, but Flip doesn’t let up. He pistol whips this sonofabitch again and again and again, until his blood is spraying all across Flip’s knuckles, until his nose crunches under the force of Flip’s beating.

The sound of metal hitting skull and rain hitting pavement fills Flip’s ears, and he gives Tommy a harsh kick to the gut for good measure. The man’s perfectly parted hair is now soaked with water from the front step, water that washes away his blood.

Flip grabs him by the shirt collar and holds him level with his own face, looking him straight in the eye and threatening – no, promising, “I swear on my fucking mother if you ever touch her again you’re dead.”  

With that, he drops Tommy, and the man scrambles back inside, shutting the door to nurse his wounds in private. Flip licks across his teeth, and lets out a deep breath, feeling good. Flip walks across the street once again, back to your house.

You’re waiting there, at the door, just on the other side of the screen, moonlight reflecting in your eyes.

“Can I come in?” Flip asks softly, “Or do you want to be alone?”

“Please stay with me.” Your answer is immediate, and it fills Flip with relief. He doesn’t ever want to do anything that would scare you or make you uncomfortable, and he’s just now realizing that this is the first time he’s ever gotten into a fight in front of you. He doesn’t know how you’ll react, and he’s worried, worried that you might think he’s no good for you now.

You open the door wider for him, and he slips inside where it’s nice and warm, the familiar surroundings of your living room calming him down.

“Did you see…?” He gestures with his thumb behind him.

“I saw.” You nod, standing in the living room with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Are you angry?” Flip tries not to sound too afraid of the idea, but still, the fear is there.

“Are you kidding?” You frown, shaking your head at once, and then letting out a bit of an unexpected laugh, “To tell you the truth…seeing you so strong and protective like that? It turned me on.”

Oh…oh! Flip hadn’t thought of that as a possibility until you say it, and suddenly all his fears have vanished.  He looks at you, and you look at him, and then you’re smiling real wide, despite it all.

“Yeah?” Flip takes a step towards you, and then another step, until you meet him and close the distance between your bodies with your arms thrown around his neck, your mouth crashing onto his.

Immediately, Flip shucks off his jacket and begins trying to peel you out of your clothing, which is real fucking difficult because everything is so wet. You kiss him, tongues sliding against one another, lips sucking and biting at one another as you pant pant pant, lust and love and possessive desire curling around in Flip’s bones.

“Take me to your room?” Flip asks, and you nod, half dressed and leading him up the stairs.

By the time you get up there, you’re naked and Flip’s not too far behind. You bring him to the bed eagerly, desperately, falling backwards onto the mattress with a big smile, the kind of smile that makes Flip just have to kiss you – so he does.

“Fuck me,” You moan, shuffling underneath him and spreading your legs for him, Flip fitting perfectly in the space between them, “Please?”

He’d never say no to you, not to his girl, so he pushes a few fingers into your pussy to see if you’re stretched enough to take him, and though it’ll be a tight fit, he doesn’t want to waste any more time. So, slowly, he pushes the head of his cock through your folds and feels your body swallow him down, cunt clenching and fluttering as he rocks himself deeper deeper deeper into you.

“Shit,” Flip groans, the hot tight wet clutch of your cunt making him almost drool, as he begins to build up a thrusting rhythm, “Shit you’re so good.”

You laugh at that, one of your legs winding around his hips, the ball of your foot digging into his lower back and keeping him there. You kiss him as he fucks you, something sturdy and steady – just like him.

Flip sucks marks into your flesh, all across your shoulders, your chest, even one onto your neck. He marks you up, a possessive clingy sort of desperate energy. The world is going to know you’re cared for, taken care of, and that he’s the man that’s doing the best fucking job at it. It makes Flip’s blood fucking boil thinking about creeps like Tommy, creeps who think they can push you around or ignore your wishes, disrespecting you. Flip stakes his claim on you, but only because you’ve told him he can. You told him, and he wants the world to know it.

“A little faster? Just a – yes! Yes just like that!” You encourage him, “God that’s good Flip, you fuck me so well.”

The praise goes straight to his cock, throbbing and aching inside of you. Flip continues to carry his markings down onto your chest, licking and sucking at your nipples, burying his face in the cleavage there to bite and kiss at your skin. He breathes you in and fucks you deep, his hips pushing you up up up the mattress with the effort, the strength of it.

“Can I come in you?” Flip asks, panting and groaning and grunting against your lips, watching as bruises begin to bloom under your flesh.

“Yes!” You shout, eager and so in love, and that’s what does it for him.

“Shit – ” He groans low in his throat as he crosses over the edge, orgasm washing over him as he comes and comes inside the heat of your cunt.

You’re not far behind, because Flip doesn’t let up even though he’s come, he wants to take you there too.

A moment or two later you’re following after him, yoru body tensing up before melting beneath him, your leg sliding off from around his hip, a big moaning sigh pouring out of your mouth.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” Flip says afterwards, clutching you to his chest. He’s got a cigarette lit and is smoking it to calm himself down, but he takes it out from between his lips for a little while to press kisses to the top of your head.

“What for?” You’re tired, orgasm lulling you into a post-glow sleep, which is probably for the best considering the clock is about to chime two.

“For hitting him. I saw the shiner you gave him.” He rubs a soothing hand up and down your arm, and you snuggle further against him with a little sigh.

“Are you going to get in trouble with work?” You whisper nervously, something that Flip hadn’t even thought about until just that moment.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. All that matters now is that you’re safe.” He dismisses that fear, and you just nod.

He thinks you’ve gone to sleep, and shuts his eyes against the dark too. He lets out a sigh of his own, pinches out the cigarette and tugs the covers up over your shoulder so you don’t get cold.

“Flip?” You mumble, voice small from being so tired.

“Yeah honey-bunny?” Flip whispers, hugging you to his chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, pressing a kiss to the strong pec you’re not using as a pillow, and he smiles, reassuring you now and always that he’d do:

“Anything for my girl.”

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                                                 -----------------------

Taggin some friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @materialisthicc @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @miabelay11 

[happy-whumper]

For sale

I'm back! Before anything else, thank you all so much for all your support and all the positivity!!!! You are all so kind and sweet alkshahaga this really made me so happy!!!!! CW: referenced pet whump, people being referred to as pets, slight dehumanisation (I think? Not sure), Auction whump

The guards disappeared from his view and the lights got dark. Through the curtain Rain could hear people laughing and chatting, though he couldn’t make out any words. He felt himself starting to shake again, it was getting harder to keep the tears from falling down now. The girl who had talked to him earlier looked over to him, he couldn’t see her facial expression clearly but she seemed...almost calm. “Hey, don’t be scared! They are going to open the curtain any minute now, it will probably get really bright but don’t worry, that’s just the spotlight. Nothing bad is going to happen, they will just introduce you and there will be a lot of people looking at you, but you probably won’t even see them. Just try to stay calm and don’t forget to breathe alright?”. Even in the dark he could see a reassuring smile on her face and while his heart was still racing, he felt a bit calmer now. Knowing what was going to happen helped a lot with his fear. “T-thank you...What’s your name?”. But before she could answer, they heard a rattling sound and the curtain slowly slid open. The show began.

“Mr. Bennet! How nice to see you here!”. Nicolas turned his head towards the man who had approached him, a polite and well trained smile on his face. “Mr Lewis. What brings you here? You didn’t seem like the person who was interested in those kinds of events?”. The older man just shrugged and laughed, though it almost seemed a bit forced. “Oh you know how it is, times are changing and if you don’t change with them you’ll get left behind!”. Nicolas nodded, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I suppose you’re right. Now, while I would love to continue this conversation, I believe the auction is about to start, so if you excuse me…”. Luckily the other man got the hint and immediately retreated, taking a few steps back. “Oh of course, I don’t want to take up any more of your time! It was a pleasure to see you here today, maybe we can meet somewhere more official soon?”. He had to try his hardest to suppress and eyeroll, it was painfully obvious that Lewis had planned this meeting long beforehand. But he kept his smile, nodding slightly. “Of course. I will have my assistant call you right on monday. It was lovely to see you, enjoy the rest of your evening.” He waited until he was out of earshot, before turning around again, grabbing his drink from the table. That was exactly why he didn’t like these kinds of crowded events. To be fair, there were ones that were even worse than this particular one, but still. Lewis had been trying to get into business with his family for a long time and so far he had always managed to avoid a meeting but now...He sighed and took a large sip from his whiskey.

Usually he preferred to get his pets over private sellers but he had gotten an official invitation from a good friend of his, saying that this might be one for him and since it would have been rude to decline well...here he was. There had been a few pets presented already, but nothing had caught his interest just yet. It was a real shame that he had to throw out his last pet but it had just been too broken. Useless to him. He shook his head, letting his eyes wander over the crowd, looking for any familiar faces. The room smelled like alcohol and perfume, almost everyone there would be considered “high society”. The kinds of people who had enough money to get away with just about everything. The thought brought a smile to his lips. About a minute later, he was joined by a blonde man in a suit. Nicolas smiled, finally someone whose company he genuinely enjoyed.

“Ethan! So glad you finally managed to show up.” The other man grinned. “Hey Nick, glad you could make it! So, what do you think so far?”. He tilted his head slightly to the side. “There were some that looked like they might have potential, but nothing too interesting yet. I am starting to wonder why you invited me in the first place?”. Ethan laughed and put an arm around Nick's shoulder. “Well, I heard that you had some issues with your last pet and now I don’t want to spoil it for you, but I do have some new pets that might be of interest for you!”. The taller man raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”, hoping he would get a bit more than that. But his friend's grin just widened, causing his dimples to show. “You’ll just have to see for yourself. Actually…”, he pulled out a neat list from his pocket, “Yep, they should be the next ones out.”. Before Nicolas could question the plural, the curtain opened and revealed three pets kneeling on the stage, tied down securely. The bright light that was pointed towards them and his position near the stage allowed him to get a good look at them. With interest he noticed how different they all looked, not just their physical appearance, but their posture and expressions. First there was the girl on the far left, she had long brown hair and a scar on her right cheek. She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the room, jaw clenched and a distinct fire in her eyes. Intriguing. Next to her was a boy, who seemed a bit older, his dark blond hair was just short enough to not fall into his eyes. From his expression Nicolas couldn’t tell much, it seemed rather neutral, as if he just didn’t care anymore. But from his posture, the way that he was leaning a bit to the left, it seemed as though there was something causing him pain on his right side. He quickly wondered what the cause for that might be, when his attention shifted to the young boy on the far right. Out of the three, he looked the most scared, looking around nervously, shifting on his knees and squinting his eyes together to get a better look at the audience. The most distinguishing feature about him though was his light blue hair, the curls falling over his freckled face. Nicolas smiled, he was cute. Ethan noticed his smile, nudging him with his shoulder. “Told you.” Now a man, seemingly in his early forties, stepped onto the stage, the auctioneer. He had a piece of paper in his hand, gathering the key information about the three pets. “Dear audience, may I present to you our last group before we take a short break! As always, they can be bought together or alone, whatever fits your needs.”. This was the routine and Nicolas was only half listening, his attention focused on the blue haired boy who looked like he was about to break into tears every second now. Nicolas guessed that he was fresh out of training, this was probably the first time he was ever sold. “Let’s start from the left. The name is Olivia, she is 21 years old and was in training from age 16 to 18. She got trained as a Fighter and sent back”, he looked at his notes for a moment to make sure he said the right number, “three times already for refusing to obey. Bidding starts at 400.000$.”. There were a couple of murmurs coming from the crowd, people looking at the girl with interest. She glared at them, pulling on her chains, clearly not a fan of the sudden interest of the audience. “She’s definitely a tough one, at least from what I heard. So far no one has managed to break her or even get her to listen to any orders, really.” “Nicolas turned his head, a slight smile on his face. “Sounds like a challenge.”. The auctioneer waited a moment for the mumbling to calm down, before continuing. “Next, in the middle, is Theodor, 25 years old and first was sent to the academy at 17. He was in training until shortly before he turned 19. Was first sold at 19 and stayed with his owners until he was 24, when he got sent back because a knee injury made him useless.”, the man said it in such casualty and Nicolas could see the boy, Theodor, flinch, the first time he had seen any

reaction to anything at all. A knee injury...That explained his posture. “He was also trained as a fighter. Bidding starts at 350.000$”. Another wave of mumbling washed over the audience. “That one is interesting.”, Ethan leaned over to him, to make sure he could hear him without having to raise his voice. “See, he didn’t make too much trouble when he got first sold, not more than the usual at least. Sure every now and then it was a bit difficult, but you know how it is with Fighter pets.”, Nicolas nodded, urging him to continue. “Everything was fine, he’s a pretty good fighter actually from what I heard, until his injury of course. I don’t know exactly what happened, but at first they tried to get him back up on their own, but apparently it didn’t look good and if he was going to fully recover it would take a long time. So he got sent back. Now comes the interesting thing though, ever since then his behaviour really changed.”. “How so?” “Well, he doesn’t talk back much, he just...doesn’t follow orders. At all. They tried to send him to get retrained but that was difficult because of the knee, so now the plan is to try and sell him again, see if anyone can work with that.” Interesting…So far Nick was most definitely intrigued, though he wasn’t sure if it was enough yet.

“Moving on to our last pet. His name is Rain and he is 19 years old. Got to the Academy when he was 17 and just finished his training. This is the first time he is being sold. He got trained as a regular pet. Bidding starts at 500.00$. We will start the bidding in 5 minutes.” As the conversations around them picked up again, Nicolas rested an arm on the table, turning his face towards Ethan. “Those sure are some interesting candidates you picked up there…”. The younger man smiled smugly. “Well, I do know my friends. You like a challenge and if I’m being honest, when I saw that Rain kid I just had a feeling you might like him.”, he winked at him, causing Nicolas to roll his eyes, not able to hold back a smile. He had been right, he did like Rain. There was just something about him, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. And for the other two...he did like a challenge and especially Olivia seemed to be just that. Theodor as well, even if it was in a slightly different way. He straightened his back, getting ready for the bidding to start. He glanced over to Ethan, a smirk on his face. “Alright. I’m in.” Taglist: @starnight-whump @froggywhumpy @whumpasaurus101 @as-a-matter-of-whump @jordanstrophe

[ashintheairlikesnow]

oooh those prompts are GREAT 👀 if you're taking them, 45 - svelte?

Vic is the second winner of “saw a prompt list I didn’t actually intend to post yet” today, haha. Hm... I give you:

CW: Teenage child of recovering whumpee, brief kleptomania, SERIOUS mommy issues, referenced intimate whumper/captivity and referenced abuse

Jax Gallagher (referenced) belongs to @comfy-whumpee

She’s only in the classical section of the shop to browse - or she tells herself, anyway. It’s a tiny bookshop with music in the back, everything crammed together on shelves and stacked on tables. The music - records and CDs, for the kind of people who still seek them out - is organized loosely on a set of tables in cut-off plastic crates, and she spends some time flipping absently through Alternative, Pop, and Rock before her eyes shift to Instrumentals.

She likes these little shops - they smell like dust and old books, two scents she has known only in the safest places in her life. She has three paperbacks already crooked in one arm, two sci-fi stories and then a true story about a woman in the states kept captive for ten years.

She has a bunch of these books, they pile up under her bed, hidden carefully away in a long flat box, underneath some other things she isn’t hiding. She reads them at night, alone, sitting up with a torch under the covers, trying to understand the immensity of there being others out there who have lived this way. 

Not that she remembers much - but some.

Enough.

None of the books talk about the people like her - the children, who go to a new world in the end, and they have stories but their privacy is respected, and so Izzy searches for the children as best she can between the lines written by their parents or by the ghost-writers or by true crime authors that never spoke to them at all. 

She finds a mention, here and there, of things she knows as well as her own breath - the crying, the quiet, the fear.

Try as she might, though, she ends up in the Music section. And then in Instrumentals. And then... Classical.

Izzy Gallagher flicks through hard plastic CD cases, barely seeing the names. Always the same, a person with an instrument, a tree, a landscape, meaningful words, a list of songs on the back. 

Then she stops. She finds what she refused to tell herself she was looking for.

Her mother, years and years ago - nearly fifteen years ago, her mind supplies. She stands with her violin in hand on a pristine, polished white floor, in a room with white walls and ceiling. There’s a skylight and sunlight pours down onto her mother’s hair, wild untamed dark chocolate brown, a riot around her shoulders and down to her waist.

There are plants everywhere, in white pots - lush green leaves that brush against her skin, frame her like a saint’s halo, paint her in such deep colors she seems like a Renaissance painter’s muse. Her mother smiles, bow drawn against strings just so, and her eyes are on the camera, bright and wide and so very blue.

She’s beautiful.

Izzy picks the CD up, almost against her will.

Savannah Marcoset, reads the swirling script across the front. Along the bottom, the word Bella.

She’s gorgeous- svelte and with the slight color to her skin set off by the brilliance of the natural light, the green of the plants clustered all around her. She had the photo taken in the sunroom, the bright white room Izzy remembers best because it was the only place she and her father could feel alone, and free, before. It was Jax’s room, and here is her mother standing in it, violating it. Taking even this small piece he was allowed to keep for himself, and forcing her way into it, like she did into everything.

She’s never let him be weightless, she has always given him things to drag him down into her orbit, forced him to live captured by her gravity. She marked him with scars, left him with night terrors, forced on him the two children he could not leave behind. 

Even in this, her music, the songs are all for him, about him, inspired by him, in some way. She named this CD after a daughter she was hiding alongside the man in the house. Izzy would have been a year old, she thinks, when this album came out. 

A year old, silent baby hidden in silent spaces by a father threatened to teach her to stay quiet. 

Savvie, though, is here endlessly lovely, utterly awful, hiding it beneath the beatific smile. She’s  beautifully soft in her thin white shirt and skirt, angelic-sweet. Somewhere just out of sight, though, is a man begging for himself and his daughter to be found. And he won’t be.

He’s never found.

He had to find - and save - himself.

In a sudden burst of energy, she slips the CD into the waistline of her pants, tucks it against her hip and abdomen, covers it with the billowing fabric of her own shirt. She could pay for it, of course - she should pay for it, but she... can’t. She can’t make herself.

Instead, she walks with the CD jamming its corner into the space where hip and thigh meet, hoping it looks casual and natural. Her pulse races, she barely hears the total for the three books as her blood rushes in her ears. She digs out the money to pay, gets change, doesn’t know how much. 

She keeps waiting to hear them yelling, running after her, stop, thief! But no one does. No one chases her. No one stops her from curling up on a bench, knees up nearly to her chin, staring down at the little booklet included with the CD. Flicking through page after page of her mother, sitting in her practice room, standing near the rose bushes, laughing with her head thrown back.

Izzy shivers with uneasy memory of the sound of that laughter.

She thinks she will take the CD home and hide it, in the flat box under the bed, with all her other reminders of the way she was born to be a block of concrete dragging the person she loves most under the water, to force him to drown. 

She thinks she will take the stolen music home.

Instead, she finds herself snapping it in half, dropping it in a wastebin, tearing the images of her mother into tiny pieces, a trail of breadcrumbs leading her back to a house that was never home.

In an album named for her daughter, every single song is about him, instead. Izzy is not jealous.

She is only so, so sorry to be here giving him no escape from her scars.

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Plurality: 02

Second whumpee won the poll. Be warned, this chapter’s a longer one

CW: Dehumanization, slavery, creepy + intimate whumper, brainwashing, manipulation, illegal business practices

Tag List: @thatsthewhump​ @whump-it​ @ashintheairlikesnow​ @fairybean101​ @finder-of-rings​ @comfortforthepain​ @shameless-whumper​ @that-one-thespian​ @burtlederp​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ @raigash​ @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook​ @whumps-the-word​ @frnkieroismydaddy​ @whumpity--whump--whump​ @michelleswhumpyreblogs​ @jo-castle​ @newandfiguringitout​ @lumpofwhump​ @infested-with-blood​

Masterlist

Ren looked up from their work computer, eyebrow arched. It wasn’t time for Yanni to come in and complain about the broken clasp on her phone charm, which Ren would ever-so-generously offer to replace for her. She wasn’t due to notice it until her midafternoon coffee break, since she wasn’t overly invested in checking the thing during work hours. 

It wasn’t Yanni, unsurprisingly, but it also wasn’t anyone Ren could say they recognized. Oh, sure, they’d seen the man’s face around before, but they’d never spoken with him, and they weren’t even sure what department he worked in.

“Mx. Pavlish, is it?” he said with a friendly, though nervous smile. He was an okay actor, though. They could only discern his nerves due to their practice at it.

“Hello,” Ren said, carefully, pleasantly neutral. “I’m afraid I can’t recall us ever meeting.”

“Ah, we haven’t spoken,” he said, taking the somewhat-cramped office chair they kept available for visitors and dragging it over to their desk. “My name is Mike.” 

He offered his hand for shaking, and Ren inwardly cringed at the feeling of his sweaty palm against their own. They took a squirt of hand sanitizer immediately after, and Mike chuckled with a self-conscious little rub to the back of his neck.

“So, Mike, what brings you here?”

“I work in security,” Mike said, and Ren felt every nerve in their body become immediately alert. “I know, uh, about your little ploy.”

Blackmail, then. He was here to blackmail them. They very, very carefully sized him up. 

“And what ploy, exactly, is that?”

“You unplug the ethernet cords to Jasmine’s and Cassandra’s computers just so you can be the one to fix them,” Mike stated, and Ren’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve been sitting on this for a while,” Ren mentioned, “I haven’t done that in going on three months now.”

“Wait have you been doing something else?”

“Is that relevant to this conversation?”

Mike chuckled again. “I guess not. But hey, listen, I get it. We all want to impress pretty ladies, right?” He gave Ren one of those nudge-nudge wink-wink kind of smiles, and Ren tilted their head consideringly. Maybe not blackmail? His tone and mood weren’t exactly right for it, but Ren couldn’t rule anything out. “Look, my cousin’s friends with Jasmine, I could have her set you two up on a ‘blind’ date, if you want.” Mike even made the little airquotes around the word. Precious.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I’ve kinda got a favor I’d like to ask you?”

Hm. Wishy-washy. The threat of tattling on Ren for the sabotage hung, but distantly, left on a backburner that Ren could be aware of but neither would necessarily acknowledge, while Mike offered a perceived reward instead. Ren lifted their finger to their lips, pressing it horizontally along the line.

“I’m listening,” they stated evenly, curious.

“So, I saw you on the news. And your box boy has been, ha, everywhere. And you’re kinda like, the model citizen of whumpee-ownership, yeah?”

Ren blinked slowly, and said, “I might be.”

“God, ha, kinda cagey aren’t you?”

“I prefer to know what I’m dealing with. Continue.”

“Right, so,” Mike shifted in his seat, hands moving from the armrests to scratch at the side of his nose and then back on the armrests, “the law states that pets cannot be held legally accountable for crimes they committed under past owners. The idea is that the new owners will discipline them better, yada yada, behavioral psychology babble, you get the drift. Anyway. I am in possession of a particularly… let’s say, criminal box boy. Defiant and loudmouthed and it turns out he’s been getting into trouble while I wasn’t looking. Ha, pretty embarrassing for a security guard, huh?”

Yeah, no way in hell this guy hadn’t been using his pet to do the things he was too chicken-shit to do himself. It was a smart move, though, Ren would give him that.

“So basically, I need to do some... let’s call it whumpee-laundering. Change hands before the cops get the dna work back. He’s a good lad, y’know, don’t want anything bad to happen to him, much less for him to get locked up. So, howsabout you, oh model pet owner, take him for, what, a week? Two weeks? Just long enough for things to simmer down. I’ll take him right back off your hands as soon as this whole mess blows over, and I will definitely get you a date with Jasmine. Yeah?”

Ren stared at him contemplatively. Definitely not blackmail, this guy was in a bad way, and didn’t want the cops to have custody of a defiant whumpee that would talk the moment it was taken in. He needed Ren to say yes to this deal. But contemplative silence on a man already squirming in his seat worked wonders to sweeten the deal.

“And hey, I mean, he’ll be legally yours, right? So, like, whatever you wanna do to him while he’s at your place, you can do it. I mean, as long as you don’t kill or sell him, I do want him back. But like, if you wanna, fuck, I dunno, chop off his arm or some shit? Be my guest. As long as I get him back alive I don’t care, no restrictions, right? It’ll be fun, he’s got a pottymouth but if you gag him he’s not a bad looker, all things considered.”

Ren hummed, tapping a finger up and down against the back of their own palm, hands clasped loosely in front of their chin, elbows on their desk.

“Say, Mike?”

“Yeah?” he answered eagerly, body jumping lightly in the chair, sitting up straighter.

“I appreciate the offer to set me up with Jasmine, but I actually have no interest in dating her. You’re right; it is the simple act of showing off that I like the best.” Mike visibly began to panic, and Ren took a small mercy on him. “But there is something you have that I would be deeply appreciative of receiving.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I want full access to company surveillance cameras and audio recorders, on my devices, and no record of my permissions.”

“Oh.” Mike blinked, and then grinned. “Oh! Oh, yeah, of course, easy as pie, I can so do that for you. So you’ll take him? Tonight, ideally?”

“When I meet him, I will assess him,” Ren stated. “If I perceive that he is any threat to my own box boy, the deal’s off.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, I gave the wrong impression!” Mike said with a much more relaxed laugh. “He’s got a defiant mouth but he won’t act up. His bark is way worse than his bite, don’t worry, he isn’t a fighter.”

“I’ll see that for myself, but very well. Bring all of his paperwork with you,” Ren said as they wrote down their number on a notepad. “Text me. I’ll send you my address. Meet there at 5:30, and no earlier. Bring any disciplinary tools you own along with him.”

“Not gonna use your own?” Mike asked with a glance at Ren’s hand sanitizer. 

“Don’t own any. I have the blindfold and sensory deprivation hood that came along with my pet’s box, but I haven’t used the blindfold since unboxing him and I’ve only touched the hood to put it away somewhere in the basement.” Actually, where had they put that thing? “My pet is too well behaved for such things.”

Mike whistled. “Nice. You get an expensive model?”

“Well, he wasn’t cheap. But he was exactly what I wanted.”

“Ooo, custom?”

“In training. His appearance was already precisely suited to my desires.”

Mike laughed and extended his hand again, before seeming to think better of it and he shot Ren a two finger salute. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Ren nodded in return with a pleased little. “See you tonight.” Ren thought of one last thing. “Oh, and Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you told him that you only plan on selling him temporarily?”

“Ah, no, just recently came up.”

“Don’t tell him this isn’t a permanent arrangement. He’ll be easier to mold, that way.”

“You’re the boss,” Mike said with double pistols, and left their office.

The moment the door closed behind him, they pulled out a notebook and began jotting down a list of pros and cons. Their agreement had been deeply tentative, not that they’d let Mike know that. They would thoroughly scrutinize the concept, and then rigorously test the box boy himself once he was brought over.

The idea of having someone to yank around, though. To punish, perhaps with some of the tools Host had listed in their disciplinary video… Ren swallowed, their mouth watering. Skin that they could pinch and cut and bruise, not deeply, nothing permanent, nothing too mean. Someone they could sink their claws into and throw away in a week or two, leaving their home unblemished and perfect, just Soren and them. Just a quick little fix. Just a nice little treat.

The potential cons outnumbered the pros, but the potential pros were of a much higher quality.

They drove home quickly that night, bidding Yanni a very short goodbye, citing business that needed attending, and they weren’t even lying.

“I bet you just wanna get home and cuddle your boy,” she teased them, sticking her tongue out.

“And I bet you’re going to do the same to your babe,” Ren teased in return, wiggling their eyebrows at her. Yanni giggled and admitted to being guilty as charged, and didn’t whine or cling any longer. See? Convincing her to get her own pet had been such a wise decision. So useful. 

“Soren!” they called the moment they walked in the door.

“Exalted!” Soren called back, and they noted the sound of a hair dryer cutting off. “You’re home earlier than usual!” Soren said as he rushed down the stairs. His hair was still a little damp, they noted, as they pulled him into a hug.

“I am. I have a big evening ahead,” Ren stated, handing him their lunch bag and prying off their jacket. 

“What’s on the agenda, Exalted?” Soren asked, hanging up their jacket for them and following them into the kitchen.

“Tonight, depending on how introductions go, we will be adding a new box boy to the house.” Ren snorted, pulling down a glass and opening the fridge, digging around for their ginger ale. “Well, a used box boy. I’m taking him off a coworker’s hands.” They “casually” glanced over their shoulder to see Soren’s reaction, and he was white as a sheet.

“E-Exalted? I, I don’t…”

“Soren, baby?” they asked sweetly, pretending not to understand.

“If-If I haven’t,” Soren stuttered shakily, eyes wide and vacant, staring somewhere far past the kitchen tile, “If I’m not, pl-pleasing you, if this, is,” he raised a shaking hand to his hair, a front lock, one of the beautiful portions he might have turned into bangs, “is about, what I almost did, I’m sorry, I can do better, I can be better, please, I don’t--I can’t--please, Exalted, I just need to know, just tell me and I’ll do it, I want to, I, I need to, please, just tell me, tell me anything I’ll do anything Exalted please, please, I can be good, I want to be good! I want to, I want to be good, I want to, Exalted, I want to be good for you just tell me please I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything!”

Ren sipped idly at their ginger ale, not bothering to mask their face with concern or pity when he clearly couldn’t see them anyway. God, he sounded so pretty like this. Tears budding up in his eyes, his hands shaking so visibly, his body trembling in a more subtle, yet equally delicious way. It was all so perfect to watch, to listen to as he broke down. They knocked back the rest of their drink and set the glass down on the counter.

“Soren, angel,” they crooned, face twisted up artfully and voice sweet as honey. They gently pried Soren’s hand from his hair and placed it on his collar, which made him gasp, eyes blinking rapidly, immediately grounding him. They caressed his face, then tilted it up. Petting at the lock of hair he’d just been tugging at, they smiled pityingly. “My sweet little bird, no no. You haven’t done anything wrong, pet. I’ve forgiven you for hurting me so badly, it’s in the past my darling angel, weeks in the past. My precious, sweet Soren, shush now, shush. Nothing bad is happening to you. This will be a good thing! Just because I’ll have a new plaything doesn’t mean I’ll neglect you, Soren, sweetheart. And you’ll have someone lower than you on the pecking order! Won’t that be nice?”

“I--I--”

“Shhhh, Soren, shhhhh, shush now. It’s okay, it’s alllllll alright. You’re my favorite, darling, you’ll always be my favorite plaything, don’t worry.”

“Th-thank you, thank you Exalted, thank you.”

“There, there’s a good boy. So well mannered, saying exactly what you’re meant to.” Ren hugged him tightly, too tight, but only just a little. “Don’t forget, my pet. You will belong to me forever. You will kneel at my feet only, you will eat only when I am the one to give you food, you will never set foot outside this house without me and you will never belong to anyone else. You’re mine, mine alone, and mine forever, Soren.”

“Yes,” Soren said, sounding grateful and relieved, just like he was meant to. “Yes, Exalted, thank you, thank you so much.”

Ren grabbed a fistful of hair and kissed him, and he kissed back eagerly. 

“Soren, tell me you love me,” they ordered sweetly, and Soren beamed. 

“I love you, Exalted! I love you, Ren!” He leaned against them and they let him. “I won’t ever love anyone as much as I love you, Ren.”

“I know you won’t, my angel, you’re so good.”

And that was when the doorbell rang.

“Right on time,” Ren mentioned with a glance at the kitchen clock. “Come along, pet, let’s go interview our new potential plaything.”

“Yes, Exalted.”

Mike looked no less awkward standing up than he did sitting down, Ren thought, as they opened the door. He held himself like an adolescent trying out for theater who had no idea how to act and was in possession of limbs too long for his body. Behind him and to the side, a box boy carried his box on his back, looking very much like he was about to be crucified or somesuch.

“Come in,” Ren welcomed, “Take off your shoes.” Not that it mattered. The boy was filthy and bloody. Every room he set foot in would need to be thoroughly cleaned. Honestly, Mike couldn’t have even given him a bath before bringing him over? He really was in a rush.

“Set the box down; let me get a look at you,” Ren ordered. They observed the box boy, a young man with short (ugh) brown hair, too short to even grab efficiently. Nothing to yank him around by, and no time to grow it out. Whatever, they'd just have him wear a leash or somesuch. Brown eyes, tan skin, ambiguous ethnicity. Somewhat muscled, but half-starved and visibly exhausted, so he moved with a weakness. He let the box thunk down on the carpet, and when he raised his eye he met Ren's boldly. 

“Position two,” they said with a snap of their fingers, and they heard a pair of knees hit the floor before they saw the new boy kneel. They turned with surprise and saw Soren kneeling, which prompted them to laugh. 

“Oh no, no, Soren, angel, sweetheart, no. Both of you, position one. Soren, now, listen--haha! You just stand there and look pretty okay?” They pet his hair, admiring the way he flushed with embarrassment over his mixup. “You just stay put right here and watch. I'm interviewing the new boy and testing his behavior, alright? You stay put.” They kissed him and turned back to the boy. He was, at the very least, standing in position one, his chin tilted up just a little too high for submission but that was something that could be beaten into him. “Position six,” they ordered, and he held out his wrists with a silent glower. But, ah, to listen to his breathing, was that fear they could detect?

He was bruised and bloody and tired, in all ways just in a horrible state of disrepair. He would require so much fixing, and honestly that thrilled Ren. They took his barcoded wrist and read off the numbers tattooed underneath it. 843-902. 

“02, huh?” Ren mused aloud. “I think that’ll make a fine nickname for you.”

“Oh, his name is--” Mike started, but Ren cut him off. 

“Irrelevant.”

02’s nostrils flared. “If I'm going to buy him, and I think I will, then the creature he was before coming into my service is entirely irrelevant.”

“Oh, good, you'll take him then?” Mike asked, sounding nervous and relieved. Ren delighted in how much control they had over him, at that moment. 

“I'm not done deciding yet.”

Mike’s flash of nervous panic was so delicious, really. As was 02’s confliction. He didn’t know if he wanted to stay with Mike or be taken by Ren, aww, how cute.

“State your type,” Ren ordered, and 02 snarled. Honest to god snarled. Ren had to swallow, salivating at the thought of how much fun it would be to break that.

“Fff-” 02 choked on his own word, conditioning clearly warring with whatever it was that he was trying to do, and Ren arched an eyebrow. “Fuck you.”

They saw Mike twitch agitatedly in their peripheral, but didn’t pay him any mind.

“Position five.”

02 dropped like a rock, his forehead actually hitting the floor, and Ren chuckled. His Processors had done well with him, whoever they’d been, but not quite well enough. The image was all too clear now. Mike had bought himself a box boy, discounted for his bad mouth, and used his excellent behavioral obedience in order to commit whatever crimes he’d forced the boy into, while tolerating his naughty little words as nothing more than a background nuisance. Or, given the bruising, knocking him around for the disobedience, but never bothering with legitimate training.

“State your type,” Ren repeated, their tone taking a special quality that meant firm disappointment. Soren eeped behind them, and they got to watch 02’s chest seize.

“Combination, Ren.”

“Oh no, darling,” Ren said with a laugh, “You don’t get to call me by name.” They nudged his temple with the side of their foot and stated, “Position two.” Once within range, Ren gripped his chin and forced him to look at them. “You will refer to me exclusively as Exalted, or, if you feel I am in a particularly good mood with you, you may call me Honored One. My name is not to come out of that filthy little mouth of yours. Not until we’ve cleaned it thoroughly. Understand?”

They released his chin but he continued to hold their gaze. “Yes,” he stated, “Honored One.”

“Aww, Mike,” Ren cooed, turning to him. “He thinks he’s cute,” they intoned, sounding very much charmed, like a child had just fallen over while dancing. 

“I know he’s got a big mouth but he really does obey,” Mike assured.

“I can see that,” they said airily. “Come join me in my office, we’ll discuss price and the paperwork. 02, take your box down into the basement and stow it in the back corner of the laundry room, on top of the other one there. Take Position two in the center of the room when you are done, and wait. Soren, heel pet.”

They led Mike and Soren away from the foyer, not checking if 02 was obeying and not needing to. He might hesitate or linger, but Ren knew with full confidence that by the time they were done signing the papers and lightly harassing Mike for the evening, 02 would be exactly where they’d told him to be. 

“Actually,” they said at the door of their office, turning with raised index fingers. “Soren, baby, why don’t you go ahead and get started on dinner for us, mm?” Ren kissed him and patted his cheek sharply, twice. He nodded, worrying his lip, but scampered off to do as he’d been told.

“He’s beautiful,” Mike commented, before Soren was entirely out of earshot. “Even prettier in real life than in the ads, and I mean, wow,” he said with a chuckle, “you know?”

“I do know,” Ren said, gesturing for Mike to take a seat as they closed and locked the door. They pulled up their surveillance cameras on their computer, turned away from Mike, and got their scanner ready to make copies and digital files of the documents. “Did you bring the tools I requested?”

“Sure did,” Mike said, patting his backpack. “Retractable cane, whip, two different gags and a muzzle, which, heh, he hates so much, let me tell you. Handcuffs, too, those too.”

“And the documentation,” Ren prompted, watching him pull them out of the bag.

“You are, heh, quite the presence, you know that Ren?” Mike said as he pulled out a manilla envelope, a cheap blue folder, and some--GOD--loose leaf papers. The fucking audacity, really. The messiness, the lack of professionalism. He couldn’t have haphazardly shoved them into the cheap folder? He really had to go around carrying official legal documents loose leaf? Their BLAW405: Filing and Organizational Systems professor would’ve made a five minute ordeal of tearing this poor, poor fool a new one. Ren tried to make themself pity Mike’s incompetence, because it was just about the only thing preventing them from feeling an unseemly amount of rage.

“Like really, I’m a security guy, you know? I’m kind of hired because not a lot of people intimidate me but you’ve just got this, uh, aura, I guess? Just sorta the way you talk and hold yourself and--oh, yeah, you just, yeah go ahead,” he cut himself off as they took the papers from him and skimmed over them, sorting them into some semblance of a reasonable order to be holding these files in, and read over them quickly but carefully one by one. They were familiar with most of this--they did, after all, possess a box boy of their own--but it never hurt to be thorough.

“I have a certain way with people, it’s true,” Ren commented idly as they shifted through the papers. “Sign here. You’re quite fortunate I am in possession of a notary’s stamp and can forge an impressive signature, you know that Mike?” Ren asked, pulling the stolen (well, illegally purchased. Their mama was a persuasive woman in her own right, and there was little on the black market she could not or would not acquire for her child, at their asking) stamp from one of their locked drawers.

“Oh, fuck, we gotta get a notary for this?”

“Some countries do not require it, and I hear the American legislation on transfer of ownership even varies from state to state, but our homeland is a little more meticulous in these matters. But like I said,” they took the signed paper from Mike and aligned the stamp carefully, before bringing it down with a satisfying thunk, “you’re in luck.”

“You are,” Mike said, chuckling nervously, kind of breathy and rather high, “really something, huh Ren?” They loved his discomfort.

“Mm,” they hummed, pleased, preening a bit, but hey, they deserved to. “Sign here.”

Four signatures later, Ren tapped the stack of papers against their desk, bringing them all nice and neatly in line, and then set them into their copier. “Now, the access files I requested?” Ren prompted, extending their hand. He unzipped an interior pocket in his windbreaker and produced a thumbdrive. “Perfect. You’ll have 02 back as soon as you’re ready for him.” Their copier whirred to a halt and they took the stack of copies from the tray, then slid all of them into the manilla folder, rather than breaking them up like a moron. They held it out for Mike and flashed him a darling smile. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little dazed, taking the folder like it might get up and start moving. “You, you too. Ha, wow, you are efficient.”

“It’s why I have the job I have, and why I lead the life I live.” Ren stood and ushered Mike out of their office, then out of their home. “See you next time.”

“Yeah, thanks again!” he called, and they waved with a bright smile.

“Exalted?” Soren said behind them once they shut the front door, “Dinner will be ready in 40 minutes.”

“Perfect, Soren. I’m going to go greet our new addition, you may come if you want to.”

“Yes, Exalted, I would like that,” he said, wringing his hands anxiously. They placed their palm on top of that worried movement, and Soren stilled instantly.

“Shhh, pet. Remember, you’ll always be my favorite, alright?”

Soren nodded rapidly, but did not appear soothed. Hmm. “A-are you,” Soren hesitated, searching for the words. “Are you going to punish 02 for his defiance, Exalted?”

“I am,” Ren admitted easily. Soren twitched, distress increasing. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re worried for him?”

Soren nodded. “You’ve always been so good to me, Exalted, I don’t want, um, I don’t--I…” Soren pulled on a lock of his own hair, and they shushed him again, caressing his cheek.

“He’ll only get what he deserves, my precious angel. I can treat you well because you’re a very good boy for me, Soren. I’ve rarely had to punish you; you only occasionally fuck up. But my coworker clearly hasn’t given 02 the structure or discipline he needs in order to make him good, so I’m going to have to fix him. And fixing him will require punishing him. Don’t worry, though, pet, I won’t be cruel. The punishment will fit the crime; he won’t get anything done to him that he doesn’t deserve. I promise. He’ll deserve everything that happens to him, baby, sweetheart, I promise, I promise, absolutely all of it.”

Soren nodded again, gripping his collar and relaxing, a little. It was so nice to see him keyed up and anxious. It was so nice to make Mike squirm and sweat. It was so nice, knowing that their own personal chew toy was kneeling painfully on the concrete floor of their laundry room, just waiting for them to go down and bloom a few more bruises across his skin. Perfect, perfect, all of this, perfect. Exactly what Ren deserved.

“Yes, Exalted.”

“Come along, pet,” Ren beckoned, and Soren followed them down the stairs.

02 greeted their arrival by spitting on the floor at Ren’s feet.

“Oh, disgusting little bug, aren’t you?” Ren asked mildly, stepping over the splotch. They gripped his chin again and he glared up at them. “Tell me, 02, which do you consider to be worse? Death, or refurbishment?”

02’s eyes went wide, suddenly struck with fear. Ren of course would do neither, this was a temporary arrangement, after all. But 02 didn’t know that.

“...Exalted?” 02 asked in a voice that was very very very small.

“Answer the question. Which is worse?”

02’s chest began raising visibly, rapidly. Hard to miss, with how thin he was. “D--”

“And don’t even think about lying to me, slave.”

02’s breath caught, a delightful little gagging noise escaping him. “Refurbishment, Exalted.”

“Hm. Then allow me to make something very clear to you, 02. Soren outranks you in every capacity. You will not eat until he has eaten, you will not sleep unless he has first gone to bed, you will not so much as speak if he has something to say. And if you decide that that makes you jealous, or angry, or if you just decide you don’t like my precious boy for some miscellaneous reason, allow me to make it entirely understood that if you harm so much as a single strand of hair on his head, I will personally instruct the Processors to make sure you beg for death before they put you up for resale.” They released his chin with a small flick of their fingers into the soft underside, and were gratified by the little jerk, and the way his eyes stayed on them. “Do you comprehend?”

“You--you’re warning me to keep my hands off your pet?” he asked, fearful and yet still incredulous.

“Of course,” they said, placing a hand on the front of his close-cropped hair and slowly stroking his skull, cradling his head. “Soren is my precious little bird. And you?” Ren moved their thumb sweetly, back and forth, against his prickly hair. “You’re nothing more than some worthless mutt.”

Next

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Run, Belle, Run

Summary: Rushbelle. After her boyfriend is hospitalised, Belle will move mountains to get to him and tell him the words she needs him to hear.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “I love you more than learning itself.”

CW: violence mention

Rated: T

=====

Run, Belle, Run

Belle French was not ordinarily in the habit of running anywhere. Between her love for high heeled shoes and her remarkable penchant for daydreaming given the slightest provocation, she tended to make her way from A to B at her own leisurely pace.

That was not the case today, however. Belle was running hell for leather down the sidewalk towards the ER’s pedestrian entrance and absolutely nothing was going to get in her way. It was rush hour and people were thronging up and down the streets, but as soon as they saw her speed, general direction, and the look of sheer determination on her face, coupled with her purse wildly flailing from her shoulder and the stilettos she was brandishing like weapons, bare feet pounding the pavement, they moved aside to let her through.

The traffic was so bad that the taxi had dropped her at the previous block, but Belle couldn’t feel her heart racing or the blood pounding in her ears. All her attention was focused on the hospital, or more importantly, the man currently somewhere inside it.

When she’d received the call, she hadn’t been able to take it all in at first. She didn’t know why the police would be contacting her about anything, and once she realised fully what had happened, it still took the sergeant on the other end of the line another five minutes of explaining before she finally believed him.

Nicholas was supposed to meet her for lunch, and he hadn’t shown. It wasn’t the first time he’d been late; he was never the most reliable of dates once he got his head stuck in one of his equations. Still, it was a special occasion and Belle had been rather put out by his failure to respond to any of her calls or texts asking where the hell he was. Finally, after an embarrassing hour of sitting alone in a restaurant, she’d snapped, leaving him one final vitriol-filled message that if he continued to show her such little respect and basic decency then their relationship was on rocky ground. She’d gone home to a bottle of Chardonnay and a tub of raspberry ripple. She hadn’t even bothered taking her shoes off before she got stuck in. Maybe if she had done, she wouldn’t be running down the street with suede stilettos in her hands.

It was only once she’d got the fateful call that she’d realised the horrible reason for his absence, and now she felt sick with guilt and an excess of ice-cream.

There’s been an incident, they’d said. You’re listed as Mr Rush’s emergency contact.

Doctor, she’d corrected them on autopilot, because she knew that Nicholas would never let anyone get away with missing out his PhD. She hadn’t known that she was his emergency contact. When had that happened?

He’s been mugged, beaten badly.

It had taken such a long time for it to sink in, and now as she ran, Belle cursed herself for having sat there in dumb shocked silence for so long when she could have been using those precious minutes to get to him. God, she couldn’t lose him; she’d lost too much already. He was infuriating and annoying and he made her want to scream sometimes, but he was hers and she loved him so much she felt like she might shatter into dust if anything were to happen to him. To think, she’d been yelling at his answerphone whilst he’d been lying helpless and bleeding in the street. She’d never forgive herself.

Her entrance into the waiting room was just as dramatic as her run down the street had been. She must have looked a sight, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Nicholas.

“Can I help you?” The woman on the reception desk sounded startled; from the speed with which she had flown into the department, Belle thought that any observer could be forgiven for believing she needed urgent medical attention herself.

“I’m looking for Nicholas Rush. I got a call to say that he was brought here after an assault.”

The receptionist tapped away on her computer as Belle leaned on the counter to get her breath back, ignoring the looks from the other people in the waiting room.

“I’ll let them know when you’re here, and someone will fetch you when they’re ready for you to see him. Take a seat in the waiting area, please.”

“Is he ok? Is there anything else that you can tell me? Is he conscious? Is he going to be all right? The police said that there was a knife…”

“I don’t have that information, Miss French, I’m sorry.” The receptionist’s tone was compassionate but firm. “Please have a seat. The doctors and nurses will fill you in as soon as they can.”

Belle nodded and made her way over to a seat in the corner of the waiting room. Now that she’d stopped running and the shot of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, her legs felt like jelly. She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Nicholas had to be ok. There was no other alternative. He was too stubborn to be anything other than ok. He felt he still had so much to prove to the world. Maybe that was what had first drawn her to him, way back when: his fire and his determination to prove something. She wasn’t sure if she even fully understood what he was trying to prove, other than his worth to the academic elite who looked down on his humble roots.

They’d first met in class. Belle had decided to enrol in a few courses on the side to keep her busy alongside her job in the university library, and astrophysics had seemed like a good idea at that time. She’d asked a question during the lecture, which had turned into an argument that had completely derailed the lesson and continued into the coffee shop afterwards. It had set the pattern for most of their relationship. Belle loved to learn, and Nicholas loved to argue, and they had got on like a house on fire. Of course, some of the arguments were not of a mathematical or astrophysical nature, and, given the headstrong attitudes that they were both inclined to, they’d certainly seen some ups and downs, but Belle wouldn’t trade them for the world.  It was only now that she was faced with the prospect of losing him that she fully understood the depth of her feelings.

She loved him. It was as plain and simple as that. No frills or embellishments, no eureka moments or fireworks. It had happened so easily and naturally that she had barely noticed it happening.

And now it might all be too late.

Belle pushed that pessimistic thought firmly away and tried not to focus on the what-ifs, looking instead at her grimy feet. She wrinkled her nose and grabbed some tissues and hand sanitiser from the reception desk to clean herself up with before she put her shoes back on, and she settled down to wait, reciting the periodic table to try and distract her from thinking about, well, about anything really. They seemed to be taking a very long time to come and get her. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

“Miss French?”

Belle got up and followed the nurse out of the waiting room in something akin to a trance. As they walked, she listened to the explanation of Nicholas’s injuries and the treatment that he’d received, only half taking it all in. He was going to be ok. That was all she needed to hear.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Just call if you need anything.”

He looked a complete state, but he was awake and alive and here, even if he was bruised and battered and bleeding. He smiled when she saw her, half a smile with the side of his face that wasn’t swollen.

“Hey.”

Belle couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. She just rushed over to the bedside and kissed his forehead.

“Oh Nicholas. Oh God, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Yeah. I thought I’d lost me too.”

Belle sank down into the chair beside the bed, taking his hand in both of hers. She looked at the dressing wrapped around his upper arm.

“Is that where…”

He nodded, then grimaced and stopped moving his head.

“Yes. Luckily the knife didn’t go too deep; it missed everything major.”

Silence fell in their little cubicle, the sounds of the rest of the hospital still loud around them, but an oasis of calm just for them. Now that she was here with Nicholas and she could see that he was going to be ok, Belle allowed herself to start thinking again.

“You have me down as your emergency contact,” she said eventually.

“I do.” Even though his gaze was bleary from injury and pain relief, Belle could see the earnestness in it. “I can’t think of anyone that I would rather have by my side through something like this than you.”

Belle kissed his palm. “You’re a softie at heart, you know.”

“Never.” Nonetheless, he squeezed her fingers in gratitude for her presence.

It was time to say it. She had to say it now.

“I love you, Nicholas. I love you more than learning itself.”

Considering that one of the first things she had ever said to him was that she loved learning more than anything else in the world, she didn’t know how else to express the enormity of her feelings towards him.

“A high accolade indeed.”

Tears pricked her eyelids at this remark. She hadn’t cried since she’d received the news, but now all the emotion came out in a flood.

“I’m being serious, Nicholas! Do you know how I felt when I got that call? I was terrified of losing you! I thought I might never have the chance to tell you I loved you! Don’t be flippant with me, because this is too important to me for you to turn this into another battle.”

She buried her face in the bedsheets, and after a few moments, she felt Nicholas bring her hand up to his lips and peck a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m sorry. I’d say blame the morphine but we both know I’m just as much of an arse when I’m not high as a kite.” He paused. “Belle… After it happened, all I could think about was you. I was in so much pain and there was so much blood everywhere, but you were the only thing on my mind. I just wanted to see you.”

Belle lifted her head and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

“I love you too,” Nicholas whispered. “It took me getting beaten up to realise something that I should have worked out ages ago, but I love you too, Belle.”

It was hardly the most romantic place for such confessions, but they’d never bowed to convention before. Belle learned in and kissed the good side of his mouth. There wasn’t anything else to say. There didn’t need to be anything else. They were together, and they were in love, and Nicholas was going to be all right. That was all they needed. They would learn everything else in time along the way.

[thewritenerd]

This Life and the Other: NaNoWriMo Day 5

(cw for brief mentions of child abuse and transphobia)

My mind started racing, this could be my chance. I turned back to Apolo and Ezra. ‘Hey do either of you think you can throw a ball hard enough to knock someone out?’ I asked. Ezra shook his head while Apolo looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe with my telekinesis, depending on what kind of ball it was. Why?’ I shook my head. ‘Can’t tell you now. Just make sure you come to the break room after class okay?’ They looked uncertain but nodded. ‘Okay. We’ll be there.’

The day seemed to drag more then it usually did. Which was really saying something. I tried to focus on my work, hoping if I got my grades back up I could stop my lessons with Dr Gjorgiev. But my mind was too busy focussing on my plan. It was a risky plan that would require cooperation from my friends in both worlds but it may be the only way for me to be there when we break into the Pound. When we were finally allowed out I headed to the break room, Ezra and Apolo following close behind. Once we were sat at a table in the corner I told them about the plan to break into the Pound on earth and how I needed to be asleep here in order to be there. ‘Only problem is it seems time is reversed there. So when it’s night there it’s day here.’ They looked uncertain but nodded. ‘And what does that have to do with me?’ Apolo asked. ‘If you throw a ball at me with enough telekinetic force to knock me out I might be able to stay awake on earth.’ ‘How long would you need to be out?’ Ezra asked. ‘I’d say six hours minimum.’ Apolo still looked uncertain. ‘Are you sure? That’s a long time and you know my aim’s not great.’ ‘Yeah and don’t you guys have really thick skulls?’ Ezra asked. ‘Like I’m pretty sure I read somewhere Railon’s are evolved from something like deer. So their skulls are really thick from when they used to fight with their horns?’ ‘Like deer? You mean keeker?’ Apolo looked thoughtful. ‘I guess they do look a bit like deer. But to answer your question Saren and my skulls are a bit thicker than yours, but we’re only 14 so they’re nowhere near as thick as an adults.’ ‘Anyway do you think you can do it?’ I asked Apolo. ‘I guess it could be worth a try. But it’ll be a risk.’ ‘What’ll be a risk?’ a voice pipped up making us all jump. Turning around I saw Kido standing there staring at us. The three of us exchanged glances. ‘The prank we’re planning to pull tomorrow.’ I lied. ‘A prank?’ Kido asked his eyes shining. ‘Yeah that’s right.’ Apolo agreed catching on. Ezra looked confused. ‘But we weren’t talking abou…’ he began, before being cut off by a kick in the shins from me. ‘Yeah we’re planning on pulling a prank on our classmates tomorrow.’ I continued. ‘Can I watch?’ Kido asked bouncing on my toes. ‘Sorry little buddy you’ll be in class,’ Apolo reminded him. ‘But we’ll tell you all about it when we’re done.’ He added when he saw Kido’s crestfallen face. Kido cheered up at that. ‘Hey Kido. Want to play a game with us?’ I asked him. He nodded. ‘Okay what do you want to play?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You can pick.’ He said. ‘Okay let’s see. Do you know how to play Craydell?’ I asked. Kido shook his head. ‘Well I’ll teach you. Just wait there.’ I went off to fetch a pack of cards as Kido sat himself down on one of the chairs. The four of us played together until it was dinner time, after which Kido was sent to bed along with all the other little kids. Though I guess I didn’t so much play as sit beside Kido and help him.

On earth we decided there was no point in sending Cam, Lalita and myself back to the pound as we’d learnt pretty much everything we could. Instead we all sat together on the sofas trying to finesse our plan. I’d told them about my plan to be there and they agreed that tonight would be our only chance for the foreseeable future. Once we’d planned as well as we could it was decided Iesha and I would be sent to get supplies for the break in. We headed to a shopping centre the opposite direction to the Pound.

‘So we need torches, some batteries,’ Iesha began reading the list. ‘Walkie talkies, umm… floor cleaner?’ she looked uncertain.

‘To knock people out I guess?’ I suggested.

‘Like in the movies? Does that actually work?’

‘In a way. It’s not as quick as in the films though. It would take like 5 minutes give or take.’ She looked back down at the list.

‘My breath would be quicker.’ She mumbled. Or at least I think she mumbled. It could have been her mask covering her face. She was wearing a white surgical mask with yellow polkadots over her mouth, which matched the daisy hair clips she wore in her braids. Apparently she wore it whenever she was in a crowded area in case she accidently started breathing poison gas, though it made it hard to hear her talk sometimes. She shrugged and stuffed the list into the front pocket of her dungarees.

‘Well we can get most of these things at the supermarket. But I’m not sure where we’re going to get six walkie talkies though?’  I looked around before spotting what looked like a map.

‘Over here.’ I gestured for her to follow before heading over. Looking at it I began to read the list of shops.

‘Any of these shops sound like they’d sell walkie talkies?’ I asked. Iesha reached up and pointed at the shop name labelled number 16.

‘There. It’s like a toy and novelty shop. If any place will have them it’ll be there.’ I nodded.

‘Right well it’s no where near the supermarket. So seeing how that’s closer we’ll head there first and then get the walkie talkies.’ I decided. We started heading to the supermarket walking past all sorts of shops. As I looked around, I couldn’t help but feel this place was familiar. Not like it reminded me of a similar place back on Kalreck. No it was as if I’d been here before a long time ago. So some things seemed different but the general lay out felt like I knew it. I considered bringing this up to Iesha but decided against it. There was already so much we needed think about it wouldn’t be fair to burden her with my weird subconscious thoughts. We bought pretty much everything we’d need there before heading to the novelty shop. I hadn’t been sure what she’d meant by that but when we walked in it sort of clicked. The shop sold all sorts of things, party games, rc cars and helicopters, neon lights, lava lamps, pop culture figurines, boards games, stuffed toys, books and quite a few other things.

‘I found them!’ Iesha announced rushing over to a wall of electronics and grabbing a pack of two walkie talkies.

‘Wow these are a little pricey. Do you think we can afford three pairs?’ I peered at the price tag.

‘I’m not sure? Are those the only ones they have?’ We walked along the wall trying to see if there were any other options. Near the end I spotted some brightly coloured walkie talkies for kids that seemed to be half the price.

‘What about these?’ I asked picking them up.

‘I’m not sure let’s see the back.’ I turned them round and we read the list of features. ‘Seems good to me.’ Iesha said. I nodded in agreement reaching to take two more.

‘Right let’s pay for these and head back,’ I said heading towards the checkout. Iesha followed me but stopped when she spotted a large display of what looked like hand sized fluffy balls.

‘They have Fluffle Buddies!’ She cried picking up a blue one.

‘Um what?’

‘Fluffle Buddies. They’re these reversable stuffed toys. You can either have them as a ball or,’ She unzipped the zipper and turned the ball inside out revealing a small blue creature with big plastic eyes and a tail. ‘A little creature like this wolf.’ She was beaming from ear to ear as she looked at the thing in hands. ‘Isn’t it adorable?’ I looked at it thinking it looked a little weird to me. The eyes seemed to stare at me, and its face was a little squashed. Not too mention it looked like a round  head with a tail sticking out the back.

‘I guess…’ I said not wanting to hurt her feelings.

‘I used to have one of these. A little pink penguin. I called her Maya’ She continued undeterred by my non comital answer.

‘What happened to it?’ I asked. She sighed setting the fluffle back down on the display.

‘My mum found it one day when she was looking through my room. She showed it to my dad and he made me watch him set it on fire. I remember when I started crying and begging him to stop he just yelled “I’m not having my son playing with a fucking girls toy”.’ Her smile was gone and she seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. What else could I say? I looked back at the display thinking. Somewhere in my bag I’d found a bag of money. I wasn’t sure how much it was but it seemed a fair amount. Before I could change my mind I grabbed the blue Fluffle and a pink one and started heading to the cash registers.

‘What are you doing?’ Iesha asked following close behind. I ignored her and place the three walkie talkies and the two Fluffle Buddies on the counter in front of the cashier. Once she’d scanned the toys I handed them to Iesha.

‘Here you go.’ Her eyes started to water as she took them from me and clutched them close to her chest.

‘Thank you.’ She said quietly. The cashier gave a sympathetic smile before turning to me to tell me my total. The whole walk back she was clutching them close to her chest. I looked at her thinking how this was the first time I’d seen her act her age. If I didn’t know better I’d think she was just like any other 12 year old girl, not a homeless mutant planning on breaking into a top secret facility.

‘Hey Saren can I ask you something?’ Iesha asked.

‘Uh yeah sure.’

‘Do you like Ronnie?’

‘Um yeah. I mean we’re friends.’ She shook her head and laughed.

‘No I mean do you Like her. Because she likes you.’ My heart skipped a beat. Ronnie liked me? The coolest girl I knew liked me.

‘How do you know that?’ I asked her.

‘Well she stood up for you yesterday. Normally when there’s a fight she just watches. So the fact she stepped in shows she must like you. Also I’ve seen her flirt with you multiple times.’ I looked at her and she looked back with her dark grey eyes. Everything about Iesha’s appearance is dark. Her hair, her eyes, even her skin. Usually when humans describe someone as having “black” skin they mean various shades of brown. But Iesha’s was the closest to the actual colour I’d ever seen.

‘So do you like her?’

[dexi-green]

Avengers:Endgame Thoughts !!SPOILERS!!

Just some random thoughts and questions and such about the movie. There are spoilers so…don’t read if you haven’t seen it and care about spoilers. I tried to organize it a bit but we all know that’s impossible.

Okay so..I’m not the biggest fan of the Russo Brothers and what they have done with their Marvel films. There have been some improvements, and some things that just can’t be helped and I just want to make that known first. I don’t really hate any of the films they made, they are definitely enjoyable, and fun, have great moments.

I’ve been a bit critical about how they used some of the big storylines from the comics in the films, because they never felt the same (they never can honestly, comic books and films are different formats, different ways of storytelling) but this honestly is the closest to the annuals. This is the closest to waiting an entire year after reading comics each month, to the big huge event. It feels as big as those. Civil War didn’t to me, Age of Ultron didn’t, Infinity War kinda, but this. This felt huge. Especially when actually watching it.

This is a huge fanservice film. You could probably enjoy it without any prior knowledge, or without seeing all the other films, but god, it’s better if you do. Soooo many little throwbacks and easter eggs and payoffs from the earliest films and the comics. So I highly suggest the other films, I think every single one film has some sort of tribute in this one. (I’m making a list of references and such so I’ll see)

So one of my biggest gripes out of the way…the Joe Russo cameo. It completely pulled me out of the film. The scene itself could’ve been a nice little thing to see what Steve has been up to during those five years but…just watching and listening to what was mostly Joe Russo talking and inserting himself into the universe…eh :/ It’s not like a Stan Lee cameo, he didn’t have a hand in creating these characters and we don’t owe the Russo Brothers as much as we owe Lee and Kirby and Simon and Ditko and Bendis, etc. I think his cameo in Civil War and Winter Soldier was better, he barely talked in WS and not at all in CW, was barely on screen, it was fine. I just felt it was a little too much… His cameo was longer than Stan’s.

Also that was their way of making the “first openly gay character in a Marvel movie.” they even said that, “We felt it was important that one of us play him, to ensure the integrity and show it is so important to the filmmakers that one of us is representing that.” which...is really a cop out I feel. That LGBTQ representation, the smallest line of being on a date, could’ve easily gone to Valkyrie/Brunnhilde’s character, seeing as Tessa Thompson says her character is queer and played her that way (take one look at Tessa’s or Brie Larson’s twitter or some interviews, it isn’t hard to see they support it), and Tessa is actually Bisexual in real life. But whatever I guess...

Though it was definitely funnier than the other movies the Russo’s have done, and DEFINITELY prettier. I’ve had a big issue with the color grading and scene composition in the Russo’s movies. Say what you will, Joss Whedon knew how to make a comic splash page translate to screen, but the Russo’s did...the airport fight scene. The scene’s in their films that did have great composition were pulled straight from the comics (like Steve Vs. Tony, Shield vs. Repulsors) Okay. But, in Endgame it definitely looks better. There are memorable scenes. There are shots that I thought...okay thats art. The end battle had some shots, like Thanos in the foreground pointing his sword, and his army behind him. When Tony was looking out of the Benatar and saw the glowing light that is Captain Marvel. When Okoye, T’Challa, and Shuri walk out of the portal to the final battle, it’s a bit hazy, almost dream like, gives the feeling of Steve seeing them and not knowing whether this was real or not. The colors still look a bit dull in some scenes, but at this point it seems like the Russo’s are resigned to gray and mud and mess to get that gritty “realistic” vibe that for some reason is what people want and not the escapism, fantasy, cosmic stories that comics can be.

I did really like the small nods towards how relationships formed or degraded throughout time, or how people changed, especially during the five years we didn’t see. We got a little nod towards Carol and Rhodey’s relationship from the comics with…a nod and a good luck and a lingering look. Natasha calls Rocket fluffball, I think it was, and says she gets e-mails from him. Bruce and Natasha are on some sort of not dating but close friends terms after hardly interacting in Infinity War. Definitely acknowledging Age of Ultron and not just making it a joke and trying to push it aside. Nebula and Rocket seem to have gotten closer, probably due to all of their friends dusting. Rocket and Bruce seem to be on some level of friendship, or at least acknowledge each others connection to Thor. Okoye calling Natasha, Nat. Carol has been coming to earth somewhat regularly. Tony and Nebula playing the paper football game, her giving him the food even when he offered it to her, (It reminded me of the blueberry bit in the first Avengers) working together to try and get somewhere. TONY AND MORGAN!! He raised a whole five year old kid. He definitely seems like a stay at home dad, especially since Pep is the CEO of Stark Industries.

It’s really nice (and sad) to see how some people’s lives moved forward. How people tried to move on, how all these different personalities coped with the loss. Seeing Cassie has aged was definitely a favorite. Cassie has thought her dad was dead for five years, and for Scott he was only gone for five hours, but he comes back to his little girl as a teenager. At the end, when we see them together with Hope, we know that Scott now has to go forward knowing he missed five years of his daughter’s life, and is probably going to try and make the most of it. Maybe that means giving up Ant-Man, or having her join in (we need Stature, I mean come on, we need another young avenger). But it was nice to see that time didn’t just stand still until the Avengers found a fix. It kept moving forward.

I wish we would’ve gotten a bit more of Wakanda/Wakandans. Okoye was still alive, and I think M’Baku survived the Snap as well, but I don’t think we saw him until the final battle. We only got a couple glimpses of Wakanda. Which I guess makes sense because with both T’Challa and Shuri gone, Wakanda needed leadership (though I’m unsure as to whether Ramonda dusted as well), but it would’ve been nice for Okoye to maybe be a little involved in the efforts to get the stone, especially considering Wakanda is so advanced. Even without Shuri there could’ve been something they could contribute. T’Challa really had like one or two lines basically but okay.

I sorta didn’t like Thanos dusting away. I was a bit off put at the beginning when Thor cut of his head because to me, that was Nebula or Gamora’s kill (though seeing as both Gamora and Nebula seemed somewhat sad after seeing him die (Gamora after she seemed to kill him in IW and Nebula after Thor went for the head) MCU Gamora and Nebula might not want to do that). I understand it though, Thor was angry. At the end I was hoping that Thanos wouldn’t dust so we could get that kill, and sort of mirror Tony’s fear of being the only survivor, but… I guess it’s the writer’s poetic justice. It’s not bad, but I just kinda hoped they would go a different way with it.

I love when the music cuts out and Quill is just dancing and singing to himself. “So he’s an idiot”.

“I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain.” “Technically he’s not a raccoon you know?” “oh whatever he eats garbage.” Are they talking about Rocket...or...Thor?

That girl power scene? We love it. “Don’t worry” “She’s got help.”

I love how they pass around Tony’s Gauntlet like a football, trying to get it to the van. But when Peter had it and was thrown to the ground and was curled up clutching it, I was so prepared to cry.

Same with Rocket trying to protect Groot.

No vision. I didn’t really find myself even thinking of him all that much during the film. We got a line or two but that’s about it. It makes me wonder about the ‘WandaVision’ show and whether that title was just to throw people off, or if he is going to be in it.

I’d be really interested in seeing more of what happened during those 5 years. Maybe I just want to see more of Tony as a dad? Maybe… But to see how everyone tries to move forward. Like what does Cassie do? Did her mom and step-dad dust to? Was she alone? Did the Avengers check on her? I think Bruce mentions he spent 18 months in a Gamma Lab. I would love to see how he came to terms with Hulk. I would love to see how the Asgardian’s settled. Etc. I think there are some interesting stories there, maybe for future shows or comics or stories.

CAROL DANVERS / CAPTAIN MARVEL

I love that Carol Danvers had a small moment/lingering shot when they were looking at everyone who dusted and she saw Nick Fury. Another little nod towards a relationship without being overt and having her mention to characters how Nick Fury was a close friend. I mean that was the reason why they came out with the Captain Marvel movie before this. So the audience members who saw both would understand Carol’s role, powers, motives, and relationships before so they wouldn’t have to squeeze it all into this movie.

I also forgot that Captain Marvel was even in this movie after the last time they showed her in the beginning because I was so wrapped up in everything else, so when she showed up at the end I was genuinely surprised and excited! They really hyped her up to be the most powerful hero, but didn’t overuse her or make her OP at all. They gave everyone else their time knowing that she has the future MCU ahead of her. I think they spent a good amount of time on the original avengers as this really was their send off, knowing the rest of the characters have future films/shows to shine in. (Which kind of makes me forgive the lack of Wakanda..but still…)

The look on Thanos’ face when Carol showed up, amazing. Her exchange with Peter? Pure and beautiful. And that little *dink* when he tries to headbutt her? Pure comedy.

Thanos pulling the power stone out of the gauntlet to use against Carol was...forgive me...a power move.

THOR ODINSON & LOKI LAUFEYSON

I know a lot of people think Thor’s mental health/PTSD was just played as a joke, but I don’t think it was. I mean there have been times they tried to sweep Tony’s mental health under the rug and times where (maybe just the fandom) treated Tony as a villain for how it showed itself.

Thor didn’t want to think about it. Thor was done. He wanted to drink and forget. He didn’t want people to talk about Thanos, or Loki, or anything that happened. He made a new home for all the Asgardians and then retreated into himself. When we first see him, Bruce stops and asks Thor if he’s okay and tells him that he was in a similar dark spot as well and that Thor was the one who helped him out. It’s a sweet moment, yeah it’s sandwiched by some jokes, but it's there. As is the moment when Thor talks to his mother for the last time. Frigga gives him piece of mind. Let’s him know that she knows what her fate is, that it isn’t his fault, which is one weight off his shoulder. She lets him know that he doesn’t need to be whatever he thinks he needs to be, just to be who he is. He doesn’t need to be an Asgardian King, or whatever else his father wanted, if that's not what Thor wants. Being himself is enough to be worthy. So he fights that final fight (completely okay in the fact that Steve is worthy as well, even saying he knew it! So he must’ve knew Steve was pretending not to be able to pick it up all the way in AOU), he makes Valkyrie/Brunnhilde King/Queen of Asgard, and he goes with the Guardians, because that's where he wants to be.  He’s not being who he is supposed to be, but who he is. Which seems to be someone who wants to have fun and save people who need saving. Which I think is a nice mirror to Chris Hemsworth’s relationship to playing the character. He said that he prefers the fun, comedic Thor that Taika made with Ragnarok, and doesn’t as much like playing the uber serious Thor from previous films. He even said he’d be open to more Thor movies if Taika Waititi was directing.

While I hope we see Thor in Guardians Vol.3, and his story didn’t feel as final as Steve and Tony’s did, he did come full circle. From fighting tooth and nail to be a worthy king, to finally accepting who he truly is and being comfortable with accepting that. Sort of mirroring Loki.

Speaking of Loki...His scenes in this movie were definitely more humorous than anything. I know people wanted a better end for him. I’ll be honest, I liked his end in Infinity War (though I did believe he might still be alive because he didn’t revert back to his Jotun form when he died in IW). But for all the same reasons as Thor. He started feeling tremendous envy and hate for his brother and father, felt the need to prove himself, though he took a very different route than Thor, he got to a point where he accepted who he truly was. A Jotun, and an Odinson, Thor’s brother, Prince of Asgard. So to me, yeah it would be nice to see a different ending for Loki, (if they do bring him back I feel they either can’t kill him or have to kill him for real), I’m content with his entire arc.

BRUCE BANNER / HULK

Bruce has finally come full circle as well. He started off wanting to actually kill himself because of the Hulk, but now he has found the ‘Professor Hulk’ middle ground. He even says he sees it as an ‘evolution’ (X-Men reference/hint maybe??). After Ragnarok and Infinity War, something during those five years lead both Hulk and Bruce to accept each other. Just imagine how happy Hulk was when those kids came up asking for a photo. It’s no longer “Earth hates Hulk”. Hulk is a hero, he has fans! Young kids who aren’t scared. Bruce doesn’t have to be scared of running rampant and out of control and hurting innocent people. He doesn’t need to be locked in a cage. He can be completely who he is without holding back.

Bruce admitting that he tried to bring back Natasha with his Snap…oof.

NATASHA ROMANOFF / NATALIE RUSHMAN/ BLACK WIDOW & CLINT BARTON / HAWKEYE / RONIN

I actually really liked the beginning and how they handled Hawkeye’s story. Him helping Lila with her Archery and her walking out of frame, then when it cuts back to where she should’ve been only some dust particles in the air? Amazing, show not tell. We didn’t need to actively see Clint’s family dust away (honestly it makes it sadder that he didn’t see it either, didn’t know what happened, they were just gone). And we didn’t need a scene of him talking about it. We just got into it. The Ronin story isn’t my favorite but I’m glad too much time wasn’t spent on it and only the parts that mattered were addressed. That his family is gone and he’s angry. Natasha still cares about him deeply and has been looking for him.

Also..who puts mayo on a hot dog?

Natasha and Clint’s relationship is one that I really like. It’s this pure friendship and salvation from the beginning. Clint was the one who made the call to not kill her, but rather show her a different path. In Endgame, Natasha does the exact same for Clint. She takes him from being a ruthless assassin, angry at the world, to fighting for the good guys again. They are family. She is Aunt Nat to his kids, friends with his wife. She knows about his family and ‘secret’ life when no other Avengers did. It’s because of him (and Nick Fury) that she has a family not only in them, but the rest of the Avengers. But it just makes stories like Infinity War/Endgame and Civil War sadder for her because, almost all the other Avengers have a life outside of the team, and have families to go to, but not her. So when they break up, and aren’t talking, she is left alone. No wonder she stays at the compound. When Rhodey is telling her about Clint and she starts crying, it’s so sad, because he was her family and he just left.

Natasha and Clint literally fighting over who gets to sacrifice themself? Big oof. Natasha really makes me like Clint’s character in the films. And as much as I love the “refund theory” of Steve returning the soul stone to Vormir and getting Natasha back, and I would love a better send off (like with Thor) I think her story has really come full circle.

One of the biggest themes I noticed in her arc throughout the films is choice. When she was in the Red Room, she had no choice but to do what she was told, because of what happened there she doesn’t get the choice of having children or not. In Winter Soldier she felt like she felt like the choice of fighting for the ‘good’ guys was an illusion. Etc. But here is the biggest choice she can make, and she decided that she’d rather die so everyone else, everyone she cares about, can have a chance. She wasn’t going to let someone else make that choice for her. She did it despite Clint’s protest. She finally found something, someone she chose to die for. And the imagery of her on the ground not only mirrors her position in Tony’s vision from AOU, but the pool of blood draining from her is almost literally her getting the red out of her ledger like she mentions she wants to do in Avengers. “I’ve got red on my ledger. Now I need to wipe it out.” She has finally atoned for all the bad she has done.

I know she didn’t get a funeral scene or a big send off, but I think that was as to not overshadow or take away from Tony’s. Which is sad. Maybe we will get a better send off in a different film or show. We did get those lines from Clint and Wanda about hoping she knew that they did it, that her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. Which is small, but it is the person who cared about her the most.

Also...did no one tell Clint and Natasha that they would need to sacrifice someone to get the stone? Surely Nebula knew...

STEVEN ROGERS / CAPTAIN AMERICA

“I can do this all day.” “Yeah, I know.” Even Steve is tired of himself.

Scott: “That’s America’s Ass.”

Steve, later, looking at his own ass on a past version of himself: “That is America’s Ass.”

My mind immediately when we heard Sam’s voice over Steve’s comm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uB1D9wWxd2w

Also on that note... I absolutely love that Sam was the one that Steve choose to carry on Captain America’s legacy. In the comics both Sam and Bucky take up the mantle and I was sincerely hoping Bucky wouldn’t in the films. At least not at first. Bucky has so much interesting story to explore from when he was the Winter Soldier and still has so much healing to do from not only that time, but everything he was thrust back into when he was still settling in Wakanda..and being dusted. In the films, Sam is perfect to be the Captain America of modern times. He knows how the modern world works, he’s been in the military, dealt with war (both earthly threats and extra terrestrial), and I feel he’s emotionally/mentally stable enough for it. Hell he ran a veteran support group which inspired Steve to run a support group for survivors during the five years after the snap. Also, I don’t think I need to get into why having a Black/African-American Captain America in these times is amazing. I would love to see him in a movie, but if we get a live action show on the Disney+ streaming service, I think that would be great.

When they showed someone sitting on the bench, I was like okay that’s Steve. But how skinny and small he looked I thought it was going to be Pre-Serum Steve...but no, we got old man Steve. Which surprised me, it shouldn’t have but it did, because when he left and they couldn’t bring him back I leaned over to my sister and said “he stayed in the ‘40s”. But I had like 1000 thoughts running through my head every second of this movie. (except when the theater fell silent when Tony...ya know) It sorta reminded me of Logan for a hot second...

I’ve seen some people say, "It's not in character for Steve to live a life and not fight".

Every single movie has been building to Steve getting more and more tired of fighting. First he sacrifices himself for everyone else. Then he is woken up to fight in a war, and a world, he barely knows anything about, and starts seeing that privacy and freedom might not mean the same things they use to. That the governments meant to protect the people have even more secrets and lies, and are becoming more violent and ruthless. His whole vision sequence (and basically entire arc) in AOU was about how he needs war and to fight but how he doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants to go home. He wants the 40s. He wants Peggy. He wanted Bucky. He wants a family and a life. It hints that sometimes he may feel he doesn’t deserve it, or that the time for that has passed.

He didn't leave Bucky behind, Bucky knew full well what was happening and didn't seem too bothered. He knew and was happy that Steve had this chance. He loves him and wouldn't keep him from that. More than likely Bucky sees a future for himself as well, just not in the 40s. Bucky could have went back with him if he wanted to. But he didn't. Sam even offers to go back with Steve, Bucky standing right there and Steve says it's okay. Bucky doesn't protest. Bucky is smiling. Plus we don't know exactly what happened. Maybe Steve would have still fought here and there, maybe he did help that timeline/universe Bucky. He did still have the shield with him. Or maybe he was a house husband/dad while Peggy worked. Whatever he did he was clearly happy and content with all his choices and no one protested.

I actually really love this ending for Steve. He finally gets to rest. He finally gets the woman he loves. He can be content knowing the world is safe and that there are others willing to protect it. From the skinny, sick, kid who was always searching for a fight and felt he was (or had to be) alone in the world. He found a family, his love, a life.

TONY STARK / IRON MAN

I really love that for the scene in the 70s they used James D’Arcy to play Edwin Jarvis. He played Jarvis in the Agent Carter show, and I think most people who watch any of the shows know that the shows are payed dirt in the MCU movies. So as someone who loved that show, loved the characters and actors, seeing that was great! It intertwines the show more closely to the films, and it was nice for Tony to see the other man who raised him even for a second. Yeah it would’ve been nice to see Paul Bettany, but I feel he is more connected to J.A.R.V.I.S Tony’s A.I rather than the actual person of Jarvis.

I love that Tony gets a reunion/closure with his father (similar to Thor’s with his mother). Before his own untimely death, he gets to talk with his father and really see things through his eyes and learn what his mind set truly was. Now that he’s a father himself he understands a bit more the struggles Howard had, he knows Howards own self doubts. That despite everything Howard cared, and that Howard’s own father was cruel to him. And they get to share that last hug and is able to thank him! Just like he wanted to in Civil War. He gets to say I love you, and thank you for everything.

Peter says he “got all dusty. Then [he] must’ve passed out”. So like...no time passed for those who got dusted in the snap...

I was sorta hoping Tony would wield Mjolnir as well, but he didn’t :/ but it’s fine. He doesn’t need it. He wields the Gauntlet/Infinity Stones.

Something Kevin Smith brought up that I hadn’t really thought of was that Tony was completely set. While he definitely had regrets and felt guilty, he had a good life in front of him. He 100% could have just lived the rest of his natural born days out with his family and been as happy as he could have been. But seeing that picture of Peter, and knowing all that was lost, feeling guilty, and just being the self-sacrificial man he is, risked it all for everyone else. Knowing it could go wrong, he still did it.

Tony’s scene towards the beginning was the first time I almost cried. After he gets rescued, and they are talking in the compound. He is so skinny and in a wheelchair and hooked up to the IV. Cap starts talking, like he always does, and Tony just is not here for it. This is exactly what he said was going to happen, this was the culmination of all the PTSD and anxiety he has had for 8 years. It happened, he was right. No one wanted to listen to him. People gave him so much shit for Ultron and the Accords and literally everything that he has ever done, and this happens and he (pardon my language) snapped on Steve. It was heartbreaking. Because he tried so hard to prevent it. Steve told him they would lose together but he was alone. He watched the kid he cared about disappear in his arms, had no idea who else he cared about who could’ve done the same, and he was alone in space (well Nebula was there, but..he didn’t know her really, they were forced to get to know each other. Remember she showed up when they were already battling Thanos). He was suffering, believing he was going to die. No oxygen, no food, no water…and when he gets back Steve just wants to jump back in, and get information out of him? No. He has had enough. Steve lied. Sure maybe he didn’t mean to, but he said they would work together and then Civil War happened. He made a decision in that movie to be on the opposite side of Tony. I’m not saying that Steve wasn’t justified in his actions in Age of Ultron, or Civil War or anything after, but just that from Tony’s perspective, Steve was continuously putting other people and things in front of him. He probably thought that Steve would make an effort if they were truly friends, and if he truly cared Steve would’ve done more to salvage their friendship but didn’t. I have a whole thing with Steve and how he acted but I just know Tony was hurt, and one person he thought he could turn to, wasn’t there. And the line he closes out his rant with? “No trust, liar.” That hit like a ton of bricks.

When Tony asks Dr.Strange if this was the one they won, Strange says he can’t tell him or it won’t happen. But later Tony looks at him and holds up one finger, telling him this is the one. He told him because he knows that Tony already knows and has come to terms with what has to happen. Tony knows he has to get the stones and Snap Thanos away, knowing that it could kill him. So Dr.Strange just affirmed it for him. If he would’ve told him earlier, than Tony might’ve thought of a different plan, or thought he could make it out, maybe he would’ve gotten excited and cocky. That also means that from the moment Strange looked into the future in IW he knew Tony was going to die. Yeah he knew Thanos needed the time stone because the Snap needed to happen in the first place for them to reverse it, but he also knew Tony was going to make this sacrifice, and couldn’t die just yet. I always thought that Tony was the key after Infinity War, but now it explains why Dr. Strange’s demeanor changes after that.

I almost cried a lot during this film but I actually cried during Tony’s death and funeral scene. Bookending the entire saga with “I am Iron Man”. How Rhodey goes up to him, then Peter (Tom Holland never fails to make me cry when he’s playing Peter), mirroring the last moments in Infinity War, “We won. We did it Mr.Stark”. Then Pepper goes up to him, and has to look at him and he seems almost...catatonic. He isn’t responding, just staring at each of them. Pepper has to watch her love, her husband, the father of her child, die. But she still reassures and comforts him, telling him he can rest now… and i’m about to cry just writing this omg… Then the light of the arc reactor blinks out and you know for real that he’s gone. Tony leaves a message for them knowing his fate, book ending the film from the message he was leaving at the beginning of the movie, to the message he’s leaving for them now. He loves Morgan 3000. Just knowing over the years, Morgan and Pepper will go back and watch this message. Morgan will grow up knowing her father saved the universe with his own hands. They will probably have suits and old tech around that she will be able to look at and play with and tinker with (because you cannot convince me Tony Stark’s daughter won’t be as much of a tinkerer as him). The “Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart” display is sent adrift in the lake outside their home, Little Morgan sitting with her mom. And every person who Tony has come to know and love is watching. Millions more probably mourning all over the world (and in our universe as well). Tony started as an arrogant, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, rich kid with more brains then he could handle, and become the self sacrificial saviour of the universe. He’s been through the worst things, kidnapped, tortured, betrayed, watched people die in front of his eyes, get hurt because of him, etc. But always was looking for a way to make things better for everyone else. He is 100% the heart of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Robert Downey Jr. is the heart of the MCU. Him and Jon Favreau and Kevin Feige took a chance on a movie that was guaranteed to do the best in 2008, improvised through a film with little to no script and built an empire. Robert is Tony Stark in sooo many ways other than both having rich and famous dads. Tortured, and regretful pasts that they rose above. I cannot sing the praises of this character or this man more. So I will end it here. It will sad to go forward without the character, but we really won’t be. Tony and Robert are cemented in every Marvel film and every film to come.

Thank you to all the creators, crew, directors, writers and actors. Robert Downey Jr., Kevin Feige, Jon Favreau, Stan Lee, Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, etc. <3 Thank you!

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 37)

WOW, this chapter took way longer than I meant it to. But it’s also forty pages long, so that might explain it.

CW: Brief mention of sexual assault this chapter, not graphic.

Tagging: @mysteli ; @whatmcsaid ; @xo-endlessmayhem-xo ; @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer ; @tigerbryn11

Chapter 37 : Night of the Twelve

Craig

On Christmas night, I fall asleep spooning Zahra. I wake up later and find her gone. The digital clock on our bedside table says it's a little after three in the morning. This isn't unusual, since Zahra's an insomniac. It happens a lot less these days, but it still doesn't make me panic or anything. I think I've been in the same position since I fell asleep, because my limbs are feeling crampy. I roll over, stretching, and find Zahra sitting up at the computer with a cup of coffee beside her. She's frowning at the screen, her fingers rubbing her lips absentmindedly. She looks up when she hears me moving.

“Good. You're awake. Come look at this.”

“I'm not awake,” I mumble, yawning. “Come back to bed.”

“I found something, loser. Something important.”

“So important it can't wait until morning?”

“Yes. Get over here.”

I groan, dragging myself out of bed. I shuffle over to the computer, pulling up the second chair and plop down next to her. There's an article pulled up on the screen, with a picture of an attractive blonde woman.

“What am I looking at?”

“Cassandra Chandler's obituary. Look at this.” She points to a line on the screen. I squint at it.

“Can you zoom in?” She rolls her eyes, but she enlarges the text. “...'Matthew Chandler and his wife Cassandra (nee Sullivan) of Manhattan were victims of Wednesday's deadly plane crash.' ...So...Alodia's parents were from Manhattan? Is the what you're showing me?”

“No, Craig!” she sighs, exasperated. “Sullivan! Cassandra's maiden name was Sullivan!”

It takes a moment for that to sink in. “...Wait...like Flora Sullivan?”

“Now you're catching on.”

“But...it's not like Sullivan is a rare name, right?”

“Almost three-hundred thousand Sullivans in the United States.”

“So...you think Cassandra Sullivan-Chandler is somehow related to Flora Sullivan?”

“I think there aren't many coicidences where Vaanu is concerned.”

I yawn, rubbing my hands over my face. “...Come back to bed, Z. You can worry about this more in the morning.”

“I'm worried now,” she grumbles. I wind an arm around her waist and lower my head to nuzzle her neck. She sighs, whining a little, and tips her head so that her cheek is resting on my head. “...Fiiiine. I'll come to bed...”

Everett Rourke

Throughout this month, I have been giving interviews to the Man on Fire. Of course, he uses a psuedonym with me, and why should he imagine I have any idea who he actually is, when I have been in prison for five years? I have allowed him to suspect I have been in contact with Silas Prescott, and perhaps that has led him to have suspicions that I know more about him than I am letting on.

I feel a bit of melancholy as I gaze across the table at him today. Hope has been growing within me since I first saw Silas activate his Prism Gate, but my years in this prison have changed me. I am harder, and yet I am less confident. That was inevitable, I suppose. Prison makes a person hard, because one must be hard to survive it. And no matter what happened to result in a person being locked away, the moment when the door slams shut is the moment when failure is realized. Perhaps it is the inmate's failure, perhaps it is a failure of justice. But someone has failed, and failure shatters confidence. I wonder if I haven't lost my edge in this nightmare I have lived for the last five years. I wonder if my perception is slipping, if there is any chance I have tipped my hand a little too far to this wild card. Not that there is much time to worry about it. Alodia's child is due in four months.

“Mr. Rourke,” Caleb begins after a long stretch of thoughtful silence, “what do you think about the Prism Crystal giving people superpowers?”

“What do I think about it? I think it must be quite a boon to those fortunate individuals.”

“What I mean is...scientifically. Why those people? How does it work?”

“Ahh. That, I could not tell you. Nothing like that ever came of my own work with the crystals. My old friend Silas Prescott would know more about that than I would. He surely did a great deal of research following the event.”

“...And then he attempted to take over Northbridge.”

I chuckle. “Oh, is that what you think he tried to do?”

The young man raises an eyebrow. “Seemed like it, considering he basically said as much while he was shooting up with liquid prism.”

“You don't know the man like I do. He is not a man who naturally craves power, nor is he an idiot. Liquid Prism's effects are obviously temporary, and eventually, he would have been put down, even if he had succeeded in taking out Dragonness.”

“So what do you think he was really after?”

I shrug. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

He frowns. “Yeah. Maybe I should.”

I lean back in my chair. “I suspect we are reaching the end of our time together, Mr. Harding.”

“...Yeah...yeah we are...” Caleb gathers up his supplies. As we both stand, he obligingly reaches across the table to shake my hand.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Harding.”

“Yeah. Ditto, Mr. Rourke.”

He leaves me, and I am returned to my room. When I am left alone, I find myself standing in the middle of my quarters, casting an almost wistful eye over this...cell that has been my home for the last five years. I wonder if I will miss it. When my plans come to fruition, when I have regained what I have lost, will I ever yearn for this place that has become so familiar? It is doubtful. But one never knows for sure.

Silas Prescott

The winter solstice has passed, and the daylight hours increase incrementally each day. Still, I eat my dinner alone in the dark each night, hardly bothering to put more than a candle or a single light on at one time. I feel safer, wrapped in darkness. Lately, I have been feeling vulnerable, almost paranoid. I startle whenever my phone rings, and I can always hear the quiver in my voice when I answer. Most of the time, the voice on the other end is the same one I'm listening to tonight. Everett's contact. The man who goes between us.

“Rourke has the information he needs regarding the Trojan Project. He got it from Blaire Hall.”

“Can she truly be trusted? I remember Blaire. She is ambitious, and generally pragmatic. ...But there is an idealism in her. Unless she has grown harder and colder in recent years, I can't imagine she will have any reason to get behind this plan. ...Especially because it's likely to bring her daughter into harm's way.”

“She is already tugging at her leash,” he admits. “But if she gets off that leash, she'll have reason to regret it. Rourke knows things about her. Secrets she would not like revealed.”

“I am going to trial after the new year. How shall I handle that.”

“For now, just go along with it. Do as you are advised by your lawyers. The outcome won't be of any concern. Just be prepared.”

“I will be prepared. ...As long as I can get my Helena back, I am prepared for anything.”

Raj

“I'm scared.”

Lila's voice is soft, barely dominating the cheerful pop tunes and dance music bounce out of the rental car's speakers, even though the volume is so low they're basically background noise. We're boxed in on a California expressway, traffic currently moving at a snail's pace, so I feel pretty safe taking my eyes off the road to glance over at her. She isn't looking at me, her face turned slightly toward the window.

“...She knows you're coming. She won't hurt you. I wouldn't bring you if I had any doubt about that.”

“I know. I trust you. But...after so long...after the way things ended...”

“They ended with you on our side. On her side.”

“...I don't know if Estela actually sees it that way.”

“Even if she doesn't, she moved beyond the need for revenge a long time ago. And now that she has her mom back, I'd be willing to bet she'll be a lot more likely to let go of any lingering bad blood between you. Especially because tonight is mostly about Michelle and Alodia, and she won't want to sour anything.”

Lila turns slightly toward me and I catch a glimpse of a wry smile before I turn my eyes back on the road.

“I thought this was a New Years' Eve party. Isn't it a little early for bridal and baby showers, when the wedding and the baby are both months away?”

“Possibly, but this is the one time before the wedding that we could guarantee all the Catalysts would be together. Besides, it's also their birthdays. It's a combination party, just like Elysian Lodge.”

“...The morning after the party at Elysian Lodge didn't turn out so good,” she points out softly.

“But that's behind us now. Five years behind us. And this is Laguna Beach, not Elysian Lodge. We're not being chased by Arachnid, we're not hunting Catalyst idols, and none of us have missed our birthdays thanks to a time skip. ...We still can't have fireworks, but that's because they're illegal. But we can have a bonfire on the beach.”

“...You always did plan the best parties,” Lila concedes, smiling a little wider. I grin back.

“I am good at parties. And I've been planning this New Year's Eve/double birthday party/baby shower/wedding shower for months. Do you know how much effort goes into maintaining a few surprises when you're planning a party at someone else's beach house?” Finally, she laughs, which is what I was going for. I smile as the traffic starts to inch forward. “You got the shopping list?”

“Of course I do. You know I take every mission you give me very seriously.”

“And that's why we make such a great team.” I hold out my hand for a five, and she almost shyly slaps my palm with hers. “Ahh, finally, we're getting somewhere. Look out, Laguna Beach, it's New Year's Eve!”

* * *

We reach the beach house around one in the afternoon, laden with groceries and presents. Jake and Mike must have been watching for us because they meet us in the driveway, ready to help us carry everything inside.

“Food can go in the kitchen,” Jake informs us, gathering up all the bags he can carry, “presents in the front room under the Christmas tree. Think you brought enough food for everyone, Big Guy?”

“I hope so! With luck, there'll be leftovers, and I can keep up with any sudden cravings your wife has.”

“As long as you brought peanut butter.”

“Oh, not just any peanut butter. Five flavors of gourmet peanut butter. Plus, plenty of ingredients for virgin cocktails.”

Jake whistles. “You really do think of everything. Well, come on inside. Everyone else is in the kitchen.”

Lila

The moment I step inside the beach house, I am overwhelmed by the aura of warmth and good cheer in the air. Laughter rings from the kitchen and the chatter of familiar, friendly voices. Alodia, Diego, and the Vaanti prince. Alodia is visibly pregnant by now. She looks...amazing. Beautiful. Glowing. She looks so happy as she rushes to hug Raj and show him where he can put everything. I slink along behind him, wondering if any of them are going to comment on my presence. Jake and Mike didn't say much to me beyond 'hello,' but Alodia turns her attention on me pretty quickly, moving to embrace me. It doesn't feel...stiff exactly. Her embrace is warm, but it's also...formal in its way. A little shy. But I guess that's okay, because I feel a little shy, too.

“It's good to see you again, Lila,” she says sincerely as she pulls back. “How have you been?”

“Well...better, since I got away from Mr. Rourke. You have a beautiful home, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks. But technically, it's my aunt and uncle's house. They're just letting us live here. And turn one of the bedrooms into a nursery. So...pretty generous. ...Can I get you a drink or anything? Have you had lunch yet?”

Alodia plays an anxious hostess for awhile until Jake, Diego, and Raj practically force her to sit down at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice and a sandwich. I settle into a role that has become familiar and comforting to me, helping Raj with whatever he needs done in the kitchen. As I dice and mix and whip, I feel myself relaxing. I start to participate in the conversation. I laugh. I joke. I tease, and they tease back. The kitchen fills with delicious smells. The stoves and ovens and the heat of our bodies makes the air swelter, and my cheeks feel fiery hot, but it doesn't bother me. I feel like I could stay blissfully ever after in this kitchen, delighting in the company of friends, sampling delicious foods.

Before I'm ready for it, the doorbell chimes. My blood sizzles with adrenaline. My heart spasms wildly, thumping so hard against my ribs that I when I look down I can see my left breast jumping. Alodia eagerly rushes to the door. I trail after her, afraid of who I'll see, but more afraid of being caught off guard. When I see who she's greeting, the relief that floods through my limbs leaves me feeling weak and shaky.

Sean, Michelle, Grace, and Aleister. Aleister has his son in his arms, and Murphy is curled over Michelle's shoulders. Like Alodia and the others, they greet me with equal parts reservation and warmth. I attempt to make friends with Reginald, but he's shy, and I suppose that's fair. Murphy is the only one who seems to be ready to welcome me back without hesitation. As soon as he shakes off his sleepiness, he leaps into my arms and licks at my face. We drift back into the kitchen, and Jake takes drink requests. Raj makes sure Alodia gets the first cup of his non-alcoholic cider while Michelle pesters her with questions about how she has been feeling and what were the results of all her latest tests. Everything is fine, Alodia assures her. She has ordinary pregnancy discomforts, but she and the baby are both healthy. I can't help but feel a twinge whenever I look at her belly, remembering Mr. Rourke's words, his musing that the baby might be useful to him somehow.

Another chime of the doorbell, and Craig and Zahra appear with a fresh supply of alcohol. I do a quick mental headcount of the Selected. The Catalysts. My old tour group. Alodia. Jake. Diego. Raj. Sean. Michelle. Grace. Aleister. Craig. Zahra. Ten accounted for. Two still to arrive. And one of them is Estela.

It isn't as if she doesn't know I'll be here. I know she was told, and she promised there wouldn't be trouble. Alodia wouldn't have been willing to let me come along with Raj if Estela wasn't willing to put aside any lingering hatred and play nice for the evening. But that doesn't mean I'm not still scared. I haven't spoken directly to Estela since...well, since I died at MASADA. I don't know how this is going to go. I knock back a couple of cocktails, feeling my nerves steady as I work up a pleasant buzz. We migrate into the main rooms, helping Raj lay the food and drinks out buffet-style in the massive dining room. In the main sitting room, Alodia turns on the gas fireplace, even though the temperature outside hasn't been below sixty-five all day. Zahra connects her phone to a speaker and starts up a playlist. Reginald seems to have adjusted to his surroundings somewhat, and plays with his toys on the living room floor, though he still protests when either of his parents move out of his sight.

Somehow, I miss it when the doorbell chimes again. Suddenly, I'm looking up and Jake is handing a drink to Estela while Quinn carefully transfers pastries from a tupperware box to a platter on the buffet. My eyes meet Estela's, and for a moment, everything surrounding us turns fuzzy, and the sounds of conversation are drowned by the blood pounding against my eardrums. Then Diego passes between us on his way somewhere, and the moment is broken. Next thing I know, Estela has plopped down beside me on the couch with a beer in her hand. As I try to avoid her eyes, I realize that everyone is watching us while clearly trying to pretend they aren't. I glance back at Estela as she gulps what has to be half her beer in one go.

“...We should talk privately,” she murmurs.

“If you want to,” I mumble back. “...Should...we just get it over with?”

She rolls her eyes, smirking just a little. “I'm not going to kill you. Promise. But yes. We should make sure the air is clear, or I think we run the risk of killing the mood.” She stands, nodding at me, and I follow her lead.

She leads us down a hall into what appears to be some kind of game room, with tables for chess, ping-pong, and pool. She closes the door behind her.

“It probably won't be too long before we're interrupted, knowing this crowd,” she remarks. She wanders over to the cue stands and pretends to examine the cues, running her finger absently over the smooth laminated wood.

“...If you hadn't already promised not to kill me, I might think you were planning to bludgeon me with one of those,” I quip. I hear a slight tremor in my voice, and try to cover it with a giggle. “...Or run me through. That would be particularly unpleasant.”

“For both of us,” she replies. “I would have to be in a very pure rage to summon the will and the strength to stab you with something blunt like a pool cue.”

“It could be done though.”

She turns toward me just slightly, her scarred eye regarding me thoughtfully. “...Have you ever done it?”

“Killed someone with a pool cue? No. I've never been angry enough. ...But...I think there was a time when you were angry enough at me that you could have done it.”

“Maybe,” she concedes.

“...Why didn't you kill me? In the end?”

She turns away again, and stays quiet for a long moment. “...You were already dying,” she says at last. “...But...more than that...I guess it just struck me that I couldn't really justify it. Killing you would accomplish nothing. It wouldn't bring my mother back. It wouldn't...teach you a lesson. You had turned on Rourke in the end, so I couldn't even pretend I was making the world safer by taking out his hired killer. ...The only reason I could honestly give for why I still wanted to kill you was...my own aggression. My own hurt and anger moving me to hurt someone else. ...I don't even remember exactly what Alodia said in that moment. But what I do remember is feeling like someone had held a mirror up to my face and showed me something ugly. ...If I had killed you in that moment, I would have been something I never wanted to be.”

“I never wanted to be what Mr. Rourke made me, either,” I say softly, unthinking. “I got sucked in, though. Or...he infected me. I'm not even sure how it happened. It was like...I was a frog in a pot of water, and he just kept turning up the heat, but I couldn't feel it until I was already boiling. By the time he was telling me to kill, I was his creature. He told me to kill my best friend, and it never occurred to me that he might be wrong.”

“But...being asked to kill us snapped you out of it?” She sounds...not quite skeptical, but unsure. “I believe you had a fondness for us, but that didn't exactly stop you from killing my mother.  

“It may have been a combination of triggers,” I concede. “I had been told to protect you with my life up until then. Mr. Rourke had promised Aleister he wouldn't harm you. Then he ordered me to kill you. It was enough to throw me off balance. And then when he said that he had technically told the truth because he wasn't going to hurt you, and that's what I was for... Then I saw you on your knees in front of me, and...I woke up. You look so much like your mom, Estela. And...she was so much like a mom to me when I knew her...” My voice breaks. I'm starting to realize that there are tears slipping down my cheeks. “I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Estela...I don't know if you can ever forgive me...”

Estela turns to look at me. Her expression is heavy with sorrow. “...I don't know either, Lila. I don't know if letting go of the need for revenge is the same thing as forgiveness...but I can at least offer you that much.”

“...Really?”

She smiles wryly. “It's hard to hold onto that vendetta when the person I was supposed to be avenging is alive. ...But even if she didn't come back...even if she didn't come back and you did...after five years of living with everything that happened on that island...” She trails off, sighing. “I just...I have too much going for me now to let the past drag me down. ...My mother wouldn't rest in peace knowing I was spending the rest of my life in prison for murder.”

My lips feel a little dry. I try to wet them with my tongue and find a chapped spot to worry with my teeth for a moment. I knew Olivia was alive, ressurected the way I was. Raj had broken that news to me gently, though I honestly wasn't surprised.

“...Do you think...is there any way I could...talk to Olivia?”

Estela winces. “I...don't think that's in the cards right now.”

“Oh...okay. I understand.”

“For now...why don't you and I work on getting comfortable with each other again? Make that our New Year's resolution?”

I nod eagerly. “Of course. Of course, Estela. I've been given more chances than anyone should have. I don't want to waste this one.”

She puts out her hand, and I shake it. After a moment, we seem to silently agree that it's time to head back to the party. As she opens the door to the game room, Raj, Craig, and Zahra all stumble back from it.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Estela asks, eyes narrow. Raj and Craig blush, looking away guiltily.

“Uh...Diego told us there was a pool table in here,” Raj stammers. “But the door was closed, and...uh...”

Zahra rolls her eyes. “And we saw you two go in here, and we were eavesdropping to make sure no one ruined the party. Now if you two have cleared out the bad air, do you mind letting us in? We actually want to play pool.”

Michelle

Whatever Lila and Estela said to each other, it seems to have cleared the air. The party continues without any hint of the tension that crackled in the air not too long ago. All that's left now is a feeling that all is right with the world. Twelve Catalysts—plus a few cherished friends—are all together. Just as we should be. For the most part, the party seems to be sticking together. When Craig and Zahra head into the game room to play pool, the rest of us migrate in after them. We don't all take our turn playing, but we watch the action and hold conversations above the clacking of pool balls knocking against each other. When pool loses its appeal, we migrate back out to the main sitting room. Raj figures it's time for the combination wedding/baby shower portion of the evening, and forces me and Alodia in a pair of chairs in the middle of the room so we can open presents. Sean and Jake are enlisted to take turns carrying the gifts over to us and read the cards that accompany them. Alodia and I take turns unwrapping gifts at an unhurried pace, giving everyone enough time to “ohh” and “ahh” and “aww” over every onsie, decorative towel set, baby blanket, and embroidered throw pillow. Of course, every time I break a ribbon, someone remarks that I'm destined to have another baby. Grace and Quinn, giddy on Raj's signature cocktails, decide to take it a step further, predicting the sex based on who gave the present the ribbon came from, and assigning names to my hypothetical children. Apparently, courtesy of Raj, Estela, Grace, and Diego, I am destined to have four children named Victor, Susanne, Vera, and Phillip.

“Wow, Michelle, four kids,” Alodia teases. “I can barely believe I'm going to have one.”

“Yeah, that feeling will last awhile,” Grace chuckles. “But at some point, the reality will sink in. And then you'll start thinking about whether you want more.”

“Personally,” Aleister says from where he is sitting on the floor with Reggie and a pile of building blocks, “I would love for Reggie to have a sibling, but I am hoping we wait at least another year before actively trying for a second child.”

“Well, that is the plan,” Grace assures him, but then she grins mischeivously. “But sometimes things happen.”

“I was just realizing,” Quinn says suddenly, “that Grace and Aleister are the first Catalysts to be both married, and to have a baby. I mean, technically, Alodia, Jake, and Diego were the first Catalysts to get married, but Grace and Aleister were the first to get married after the island...”

“It's true,” Alodia concedes. “And you're still the first of all of us to have kids. But given my five year absence from my own marriage, I think Diego and Varyyn definitely hold the title of the oldest Catalyst marriage.”

“Congratulations, darling,” Varyyn quips, winding his arms around Diego from behind and kissing his cheek. Diego laughs, leaning into the embrace.

“It's been an amazing five years.”

“Do you guys ever think about bringing kids into the equation?” Sean asks.

“It is something we had imagined,” Varyyn admits. “But the pair of us raising a child in your world seemed much less likely than it would have been if we had chosen to live in Elyys'tel. Since we obviously cannot conceive one of our own together...”

“Our options were either to get a surrogate or adopt. And both of those seemed dauntingly complicated when we thought about explaining Varyyn's appearance. But...” Diego reaches back to stroke the back of Varyyn's head, “now that you have that disguise, the subject might be worth revisiting.”

“If you guys want a surrogate, I'd be willing,” Alodia declares. “I mean, once I'm recovered from this pregancy, of course. And if Jake were okay with it.”

“I dunno, Princess. I gotta admit that sounds a little weird on the face of it. I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand, though, if it were important to Diego and Varyyn.”

“Well, if we went that route, I think I'd have to provide the...genetic material,” Diego muses. “I'd be paranoid about an outside volunteer giving birth to a blue or green baby. And if Allie were the surrogate, I'd worry about mixing Vaanti DNA with half-human, half-Prism alien.”

“When you put it like that, I can see where it might get weird pretty quick,” Alodia admits. “Being the aunt/bio-mom to a kid whose bio-dad I think of as my brother...”

“Adoption would help you sidestep all that weirdness,” I point out. “It's what Sean and I want to do whenever we're ready for kids.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, it's really more like Michelle wants to adopt and I don't have a preference,” Sean clarifies. “Whenever we decide we want kids, it doesn't matter to me how we get them, whether we have our own or adopt.”

“But Michelle, you definitely want to adopt?”

I nod. It's a discussion Sean and I have had more than once. In any other company, I might consider it too personal to share. I don't even plan on telling my mother until after the wedding, when I know she'll ask about the possibility of grandchildren. But I don't think twice about telling the Catalysts. I don't think there's much I would want to keep from them unless it was something I hadn't dealt with myself.

“Either adopt or get a surrogate if we decide we really want our own kids. The long and short of it is that I don't want to be pregnant. I'd love to be a mom some day, but I also still plan on being a neurosurgeon. And I don't want to be worried about pregnancy complicating my progress if my body doesn't react well to it or there are complications.”

“That makes sense,” Alodia concedes. “I might have suggested adoption myself a few years down the line if this one hadn't crept up on me.”

“So, guys...” Diego says suddenly, “I have a very important question. How long has this been going on?”

He points towards Quinn, waving his index finger in a circle, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. I look at Quinn, raising an eyebrow when I realize that she has cozied up to Estela, who seems quite content to have the other woman in her arms. Estela blushes, but she's smiling as she averts her eyes.

“Only about a week.”

Zahra snorts. “Officially maybe.”

“Huh?” Craig frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Those two have been giving off 'vibes' around each other for months. I can't be the only one who noticed.”

The somewhat embarassed silence that ensues seems to confirm that she was in fact the only one to notice. Alodia raises one finger.

“In my defense, I'm on the other side of the country most of the time.”

“Me too,” Diego agrees. “And Jake and Varyyn and Mike.”

“And I spent a lot of time outside the country,” Raj points out. “But whether or not we noticed, it's awesome! You two'll be great together, I'm sure.”

“Well, we certainly hope so.”

Quinn suddenly sits up. “Oh! Raj! The cake! Should we do that now?”

“Right! Cake!” Raj claps his hands. “Michelle, Alodia, the part of the evening where we pamper you two isn't over yet, because Quinn baked birthday cake. Everybody into the kitchen!”

Alodia

I expected Raj to outdo himself with the cooking for this party. I expected Quinn to provide enough cupcakes to feed an army. I knew that Raj intended to make me and Michelle the focus of much of the evening, considering that we're both celebrating birthdays at the same time that she's planning her wedding and I'm twenty-seven weeks pregnant. But somehow, when I see the elegant layer cake that Quinn has prepared, smooth vanilla frosting topped with beautiful sugar roses, I feel tears clogging my throat. I manage to make it through the song and the cutting of the cake without breaking down. But in the chaos of serving that follows, I have to slip outside. I open the sliding door, hoping the chatter in the kitchen covers the soft rushing noise it makes as it glides on its runners, and slip out onto the deck.

The sun has been down for awhile, and the temperature has dropped with it. It's still nothing like the ice age side of La Huerta, or even Hartfeld this time of year. Plus, my current condition has me running hot most of the time, so the cool, salty breeze trailing over my face and tugging at my hair feels quite soothing. I wander down toward the pool. The timed lights under the water have flickered on, as have the lamps that line the pathways. My breath is hitching as I walk the perimeter of the swimming pool, heading toward the flagstone staircase that leads down to the cove. I grip the railing as I navigate the steps carefully.

I know I was already in the picture when my aunt and uncle bought the beach house, because Aunt Molly often joked about how the beach house and I were the same age because it was built the year I was born. Having a second home on the waterfront for entertaining and retreats had always been in their plans, though. They had spared no expense, choosing a brand new house that opened onto the sands of a private cove, with only a handful of neighbors sharing the shore with them.

Several of my neighbors appear to be having parties tonight. Music and laughter drift over the beach from back decks. As it gets closer to midnight, I expect the beach will fill with my neighbors and their guests and their bonfires, but for now, they're sticking inside. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the party sounds are overpowered by the whisper of the waves breaking on the shore. I sit down to take off my shoes and socks and make my way across the soft, cold sand toward the water. Before I quite realize it, I've stepped onto wet sand, and the cool waves are washing over the tops of my feet. I gasp slightly at the chill, and that dissolves the knot of tears that has crystalized in my throat. I sob, quietly but thoroughly, the spasms coming from deep in my core. It feels almost unbearably wonderful, exciting and terrifying, to cry like this while memories flood my mind like a film montage. They're not memories of my childhood, of time spent in this house or on this beach. I was rarely allowed here, especially before I became a teenager. No, the memories flooding my head are all of my Catalysts. Of all of us together, happy and hopeful. The party at Elysian Lodge. My resolution to hold onto what mattered, to protect the people I loved, to prevent what I thought were their terrible futures that I was seeing every time we touched another amber idol together. Kissing Jake on the roof while the Lights of Vaanu shimmered in the frozen sky overhead. The desperation in his kiss was subtle, but I could taste it as clearly as my own, our fears for ourselves and each other flavoring our passion.

I remember the first party we had together, the first night we were on the island, not yet friends. I remember Raj bringing us together with a feast just a few nights later, and I remember kissing Quinn in the hours before, tasting vanilla frosting on both our mouths.

I remember my wedding day, the warmth of Jake's calloused palm against mine and the softness and pressure of the silk ribbon Seraxa wound around our hands. The way we had gazed at the cliffside from The Dorado while Jake painted pictures in my mind of a quiet little cottage just for the two of us, and the slow realization that I had nothing waiting for me on the other side of the island. That I could not even remember the faces of my family. And just hours later, the truth that Vaanu revealed to me...the way my heart had screamed in rebellion, desperately seeking a way to get back what was lost, the temptation to either give the world to Rourke or let it burn...the sinking resignation as I realized what I had to do...

“Alodia!” I turn to see Jake jogging across the sand to reach me. He stops in front of me, frowning, his brow knitting with concern. One hand cups my cheek, flushed hot with the effort of crying, while the other rests on my shoulder. “Hey...you okay?”

I cover his hand with mine, nodding. His thumb trails over the bony ridge beneath my eye, dabbing gently at my tears. I lean forward, letting my arms encircle him as I bury my face in his chest. He embraces me, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head.

“Is it hormones again?”

“Probably,” I sniff. “...Do you think we'll ever have a normal marriage?”

“What do you mean a 'normal' marriage?”

“You know...like Diego and Varyyn have. Or Grace and Aleister.”

“...Varyyn is a hyper-evolved human with blue skin, and until a week ago, he and Diego couldn't consider things like adoption or anything that would put them under any real scrutiny for fear of what would happen if they started questioning Varyyn's appearance.”

“...Like Grace and Aleister, then.”

“I'd argue that they don't exactly have a 'normal' marriage, either. But then...I'm still not sure what you're thinking of when you say 'normal'.”

I sigh. “...I don't know.” I turn in his embrace so that I am looking at the sea as I lean against his chest. “We got married at Niala'rei. On that day, we committed to each other for a year and a day, and eternity if we were still in love after that. ...But I was gone by the next day.”

His arms tighten around my shoulders. “You're here now.”

“Yeah, but...what would the Vaanti say about our situation? Do we have to spend another year and a day living together before our souls are officially joined? Does it count that we're still in love after five years if we haven't spent all that time in each other's presence?”

“Does it matter what the Vaanti would say?”

I'm not sure why, but his question catches me off-guard. “Well...I...” I trail off, frowning. There's only one honest answer I can give. “...Yes. ...Sort of...”

“Why?” His tone is gentle, curious without being accusing or judgmental. I am quiet for a long moment, considering. Why exactly does it matter to me whether the Vaanti believe my soul is tied to Jake's already or if they would tell me that I needed to pass a year and a day by his side first?

“...I guess...maybe a part of me still believes in their power. In the power of their gods and guardians...in the power of a creature called the Endless who isn't me...” I close my eyes, pressing close to my husband. Feeling secure in his arms, I let the words flow out of me. “...A part of me is still scared. Still looking for guidance. ...When I came face-to-face with Vaanu and I learned the truth about what I was...that was the scariest thing I'd ever gone through. When I had to make that choice...it wasn't just that there wasn't a perfect option. It wasn't just that there wasn't a future where I saved the world and lived in it, too. ...The really scary part was that it was all down to me. It's like...when people say that everyone dies alone. You can die surrounded by your loved ones, but in the end, you have to take that last step alone. I was born from all of your need, your hopes, your fears. We had gone through that nightmare together, but in the end, I was the only one who could decide how it all ended. Even with all the guidance and encouragement and love that surrounded me, I was the only one who could take that final step.

“All that time, I had counted on all of you. I had trusted in the island's power, the Endless, the Vaanti, Vaanu to guide me on the right path. Even Rourke guided me sometimes, if only by showing me where I shouldn't lead us. But in the end, the power was mine. It was all in my hands. ...And I ended up losing you.”

His arms are tight around my shoulders. He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I'm right here, Princess. We're together now.”

“I know...it's just...I'm scared, you know? I'm always scared that we'll lose each other again.”

“So am I,” he admits. “...I don't know if there's a way to stop being scared of that.”

“...Maybe a part of me believes that if we can fulfil our handfasting vow...if we can be together for a year and a day and by Vaanti tradition, have our souls bound together forever... If we had faced Project Janus after being together for a year and a day, a part of me wants to believe that Vaanu couldn't have ever taken me back. That he couldn't have taken me back because our bond wouldn't have allowed me to rejoin him.”

It's Jake's turn to be silent and thoughtful. His hands trail down my arms to wrap gently around my swollen belly.

“...I don't know if that would have been true,” he says at last. “We're not immortal, Alodia. Someday, I'll die. Someday, you'll die, too. And someday, a long time after that, our baby—this little baby girl that ain't born yet? She'll die, too. ...Even the Vaanti die eventually. Even fasted Vaanti who have lived with their partners for a year and a day have to give up the ghost some day. A lot of them end up leaving their partners alone for awhile. ...Even if there is any magic to the 'year and a day' tradition, it won't stop nature taking its course. Not sure if it could have stopped you from giving yourself back to Vaanu, either. And I ain't sure I would have wanted it too. ...It tore me apart to give you up, Alodia. But the choice was yours to make. I'm your partner, not your master. I don't ever want to be a chain that keeps you from doing what you believe is right.”

“...I love you, Jake.” There's not much else I can say to that.

“I love you, too, Alodia. I don't need to wait a year and a day to know that I'm bound to you forever. I knew it long before that ribbon was wrapped around our hands.”

“...So did I,” I confess. “...I fell in love with you over two-thousand times, Jake McKenzie. I carried all those memories somewhere in my mind all through that last timeline. ...I'm yours. Now and forever.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you really know how adored you are. How much every person in that house up there loves you.”

“...If it's half as much as I love them, then I am the luckiest person on earth.”

I exhale slowly, my breath shaking as the last of my tears dry up, leaving something still and quiet at my center. The steady rolling and breaking of the waves over the shore is almost hypnotic. Since the dawn of humanity, how many have stood on this very shore under the moonlight and watched the waves roll in and out? What ancient creatures' bones lie fossilized millions of miles under my feet? Who were the first human beings to reach this cove?

In the back of my mind, I hold an image of a woman my own age, also with child, standing on this shore and watching the waves with her lover at her back. Perhaps an American settler from the east, whose husband planted eucalyptus trees. ...Or a Mexican woman in the last days of the war.  ...Was she aware of the war? Did she worry about it? Did her husband fight? Did it matter to her whether her child was born in a territory that belonged to Mexico or to America?

...Her ancestors are varied. Somewhere in her DNA is a Spanish woman who found love with an indigenous man. Further back was a woman who had secretly loved a Spanish soldier. But before her was one who had been called a savage by the Spanish soldier who marched into her village with the others and laid his hands on her as if he owned her. I can see his face, a face that might be handsome if it were not twisted with perverse pleasure...I can feel his hands...grabbing...tearing...

“...No...”

“No?”

Jake's voice makes me gasp as an electric spasm shoots down my spine. I pull myself from the arms encircling me, whipping around to face my husband. He pulls his hands back, holding them up and open as if to demostrate that he's unarmed. I feel a hot flush creep up my neck as I realize that he is looking at me with a mix of concern and confusion. I put a hand to my chest, trying to take slow breaths so that my rapid pulse will steady. He'll worry if I don't attempt to explain my sudden anxiety. I briefly consider making something up, but I did promise not to hide things from him like I did on the island.

“...I'm...I'm all right,” I assure him. “Just...something kind of weird happened just now...”

“Yeah?” He cautiously reaches out to stroke my shoulder, giving me time and room to retreat if I want to. I don't. I step closer to him.

“I was just daydreaming. Imagining all the people who might have stood on this beach throughout human history...and...I don't know if I just imagined too deeply or what, but...I started to feel like I was actually...seeing them. Feeling them...”

“...What did you see? Or feel?”

“...A Native American woman. Spanish soldiers came to her village...they...”

Jake winces, drawing me gently into his arms and cradling my head on his shoulder. “I can guess,” he says grimly. “Fucking bastards...”

I sigh. “History is full of conquests, and all of those conquests come with bastards drunk on their own power claiming the conquered women as spoils.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw bastards like that on both sides when I was in the Navy. But...shit, Alodia...were you...experiencing that just now?”

“Not...fully.”

“Even a little is too much for my liking.” He gently cups my face in his hands and kisses my forehead.

“I'm okay,” I assure him again. He pulls back slightly, examining my face in the light from the moon and the houses that line the cove.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was scary in the moment. But now, I'm more wondering why it happened like that. I mean, why I saw and felt it.” I feel my brow knitting. “...When we encountered the Endless in the cave on La Huerta, and I asked for proof that we could trust her, she listed facts about us all. And she said that wherever I am, if I stand still long enough I start to imagine all the people who have stood on that ground before me. ...That's been true for as long as I can remember. For as many timelines as I can remember. I never felt...taken in like this before.”

“You think it might have something to do with the prism half of your DNA?”

Something in either his question or the way he asks it calms me considerably. I meet his eyes, and in the depths of our shared soul, I know that he not only accepts the non-human half of me, but he embraces it. He loves it as a part of me, even knowing that it may yet reveal new ways to complicate my existence and his.

“Most likely,” I concede. “The Endless did say that I probably have powers that haven't manifested yet.”

“Well...hopefully it's something you can learn to control so you aren't just experiencing horrible things whenever your power feels like it.”

“Hopefully,” I echo. “...I think I'm ready to go back to the party now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jake brushes my mouth with his. “You are one of the guests of honor, after all. Let's get you back to your adoring fans.”

Zahra

I guess Alodia had an attack of hormones or something because she disappeared for awhile after the cake was cut. She came back tucked under Jake's arm, her eyes tellingly puffy, but no one pressed her on it. I lost track of her for awhile after that, wandering back into the game room with Craig and Raj. Murphy follows us, jumping up to perch on the edge of the pool table and swat at the balls as they roll past him.

I get the fucking pants thrashed off me first couple games we shoot.

“Too many cocktails,” I mutter, even though my last drink was an hour ago. “Can't shoot straight.”

“Only thing to do is have a couple more!” Craig declares. “Wanna head back out to the party?”

“I'm game for it,” Raj agrees, and Murphy yips, which sounds like he's game, too. I shrug.

“Yeah, sure.”

Of course, Craig notices right away that something's up. And of course he figures out right away what it is.

“Hey, Z...are you planning on giving Alodia the...you know, the thing tonight?”

“What thing?” Raj asks.

I sigh. “Well, you might as well know. Grace's mom found some stuff out on Alodia's mom. I've been doing some digging, and I brought it along to show her.”

Raj frowns. “Is it bad?”

“No. I mean, not obviously. She worked for Mansingh Transglobal as a researcher and developer. She was a computer science major, and worked on some pretty cutting edge programming. Most prominently, some of the most advanced digital drawing/rendering programs of the early nineties. There's just some stuff that's...weird. Like the fact that her maiden name was Sullivan. Or the fact that with that advanced digital rendering, she managed to draw a chillingly realistic picture of the woman her daughter would grow up into, in spite of the fact that it was painted while Alodia was still a fetus.”

“That does sound kinda weird,” Raj agrees. “But her husband was Vaanu, remember. And if she was a descendant of La Huerta's Sullivans, she may have been exposed to the Island's Heart—or inherited exposure from her ancestors. It does make sense that Vaanu might choose a proto-Vaanti to be Alodia's mother.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too. But then there's also the matter of the Trojan Project.”

“What's that?”

“Something Cassandra Chandler was working on before she died. I've been looking into it. It's not easy to find information on it. At all. But I've been able to uncover enough to make me think it wasn't related to computers.”

“So...what was it related to?”

I meet his eyes. “Something that would make a lot of sense for the mother of the Endless to be looking into. ...Time travel.”

Estela

I help Grace and Aleister put Reggie down around eight o'clock. He's set to spend the night in the room that will be River McKenzie's in a matter of months. It is a room in progress, to be sure. A wallpaper mural of jungle flora and fauna is spread over the walls, and soft green carpet covers the floor, but most of the furniture hasn't arrived yet, so Grace and Aleister have brought along a travel crib. An air mattress has been set up and made up on the floor as well, so that Grace and Aleister can sleep in the same room. This beach house was built for entertaining and has a number of guest rooms, but there is still going to be doubling by necessity, and a few will have to camp out on the convertible sofas.

In the bathroom attached to the nursery, Aleister fills the tub with a few inches of warm water while Grace and I carefully undress him. Reggie clearly knows what's coming and does his best to help us undress him, straining eagerly toward his father and the bathtub. I laugh.

“You like bathtime, mi conejito? That's good. Makes things easier for Mommy and Daddy, doesn't it?”

“Unless we're trying to get his clothes off,” Grace chuckles as she finally tugs off the last sock.

“All right, my clever boy,” Aleister says, scooping up his son and lifting him into the tub. “Let's get you into the nice warm water.”

Reggie happily plops down in the water and immediately begins slapping the surface with his chubby little hands, and kicking his feet to feel the current swirl around his legs. While Aleister bathes him gently, Grace and I ask him questions. He can't say more than a handful of words right now, but he can point to people, objects, and parts of his own body.

“Where is your foot, Reggie?” we ask him. “Where is Daddy? Where is Tia Estela?”

Grace suddenly smiles, looking up past me and Aleister. “Who is that coming into the bathroom?” We turn to look, and find Alodia hovering shyly in the doorway, Jake standing beside her with his hands on her shoulders.

“...Sorry, are we intruding? The door was open...”

“Not at all,” Aleister assures them. “It's your home.”

“Still, I'm guessing you don't want everyone crowding around your son during his bath,” Jake remarks, even as he and Alodia slip into the bathroom. “Don't want to freak the kid out.”

“Reggie,” Aleister begins, and Reggie quickly turns to look up at his father. “Your Auntie Alodia and Uncle Jake are going to talk to Mummy and Daddy while you have your bath. Is that all right?”

I don't know if Reggie actually understood any part of that question, but he smiles at Aleister and cooes as he holds up a toy boat, so we take it to mean he isn't distressed.

“ 'Auntie and Uncle',” Alodia echoes. “Is that what we are?”

“It seems fitting,” Aleister says. “And it is hardly an uncommon term of respectful endearment to a close friend of one's parents.”

“When I was growing up, all close friends of my folks were Auntie and Uncle,” Jake says. “It was just considered respectful where I'm from.”

“It was the same for me with friends of my dad,” Grace agrees. “Mom's friends and associates were whatever they preferred to be called. Sometimes that was 'Ms. Jones ' or 'Mr. Smith,' but some let me use their first names.”

“That's how it was with any friends of my aunt and uncle,” Alodia remarks. “When it came to Diego's family and neighbors, I just used the words he used. There were plenty of tios and tias, and his parents were Mama and Papa, and I was mija to everyone...”

She lowers the lid of the toilet and sits down carefully. Jake leans against the sink.

“How's the room?” he asks. “Adequate for the night?”

“Oh, it's just fine, thank you.”

“I love the wallpaper,” Grace adds. “And the carpet is so soft.”

“I had kinda hoped the crib would be here in time for tonight, but the one we really wanted ended up being backordered. Hopefully it gets here in time for River.”

“You've still got plenty of time,” I say, absently trailing my fingers through the bath water.

“The time will pass more quickly than you think it will,” Aleister warns. “I remember when Reggie was born, it felt like no time at all between that moment and Grace telling me that she was pregnant.”

I snort. “Says the one who didn't have to carry the child for nine months.”

Grace laughs. “You might be surprised to hear that it passed quickly for me, too. At least, there were moments when I looked at the calendar and could hardly believe how close I was to my due date.”

“I'm not sure how things are going to look in hindsight once she's born,” Alodia muses, caressing her stomach. “Right now, there's a lot that sucks about being pregnant, and a lot that's wonderful. But I'm mostly eager to meet River. To hold her and rock her and give her baths...”

Aleister sighs wistfully. “Once she is born, the time will start to pass even faster.”

“That, I can definitely agree with,” Grace says, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I can hardly believe this boy is almost a year old...”

A silence descends over us, heavy with shared sentiment. It's not hard to guess what we're all thinking about. There is joy in the anticipation of Reginald's first birthday and Alodia and Jake's first child. There is joy in seeing Reginald grow and sweet sadness in saying goodbye to his baby days. And of course, the twelve of us—plus Lila and Varyyn, I imagine—can't help but remember the last time we were all together on New Year's Eve.

It seems to me that we were all so young then. The thought makes me feel ridiculous, given that I'm not even thirty yet, but the change between who I was then and who I am now—who all of us were then and now—is almost startling to think of. I think of myself, and of my brother, how we were both bitter, angry, and lonely; motherless children abandoned and betrayed by the father we didn't even know we shared. Really, all of us were misfits, somehow out of place in the world we had come from. Even Alodia, even before the timelines repaired themselves to give her a past and a home. She was the Mystery, the one who seemed linked to the island in ways the rest of us couldn't fathom. Even before the discovery of the Island's Heart, she was the one who could understand the Vaanti. The one who the Guardians were drawn to—and the only one who could get through to Quinn when Vaanu took her over. None of us fit with the world. But we fit with each other.

We've grown since then. We've changed. We've moved on with our lives. But we haven't forgotten each other. Distance has not weakened this family. If anything, our bonds are stronger than ever. They stayed strong enough over five years to bring Alodia back to us. I hope and pray that twelve will remain as one until the last of us is laid in a grave.

“...Estela?” Aleister's voice brings me back to reality.

“Sorry, what?”

He nods over my shoulder. “Could you pass me the towel?”

I turn and find the soft yellow terrycloth hanging behind my head, draped on the rack on the wall. I tug it down and pass it to Aleister.

“Right. Sorry. Lost myself in thought for a moment.”

“What were you thinking?” Alodia asks as Aleister wraps his son in the towel and lifts him from the bath. I lean back against the wall, feeling a smile playing around my mouth.

“That it's fitting we should all be here together for New Year's Eve. And that I plan to toast to many more to come.”

* * *

When Reggie has drifted off and Grace has set up the baby monitor, we rejoin the party. At some point, Alodia dozes off on the couch, cuddled up with Jake, but she comes awake again close to eleven, when we start migrating toward the beach. With many of Alodia's neighbors having the same idea, Varyyn opts to put on his holographic disguise. Though we were all told of Dax's gift, this is the first time I've seen it demonstrated. It's more than a little strange to see Diego cozying up to someone who looks so different from the Varyyn we know, and even stranger to hear Varyyn's voice and speech patterns coming from this stranger's lips. But I suppose it's something we'll get used to.

On the beach, we build a bonfire in a portable fire pit. We might have just assembled one from scratch like we would have on the island, but I don't think we could get the materials to do so without risking stealing someone else's plantlife. It's turned cool since the sun has set, so we pull our lawn chairs into as tight a circle as we can make around the firepit and wrap ourselves up in blankets. Quinn and I lie side-by-side on a chair, a blanket draped over our legs.

“So what are everyone's resolutions this year?” Quinn asks.

“Oh, yeah!” Raj's face lights up. “We should go around the circle and say what our resolutions are!”

Diego mock-groans. “Oh, come on, do we have to be so orderly about it?”

“Yes!” Raj replies firmly. “That way everyone is sure to get their turn.”

“Come on, Raj! That's like those lame families at Thanksgiving who go around their tables announcing what they're thankful for!” Zahra whines.

“Hey, you did exactly that with my family a couple months ago,” Craig points out.

“And it was lame. I just didn't say anything out of politeness.”

“Well, you can follow your own example tonight, too,” Raj retorts cheerfully. “Quinn, why don't you start us off, since you asked the question?”

“Well, okay.” Quinn sits up a little in my arms. “I resolve...to start learning a new skill. Like a musical instrument or knitting or something. Estela?”

“Hmm. I suppose...I resolve to cherish my circumstances. I was once prepared to throw away my freedom for something that I know now would have only left me hollow. So I am resolving to be grateful for my freedom and any opportunity to make real change.”

“Which, as a CEO of Rourke International, you have plenty of opportunity to do,” Aleister points out. “And with that in mind, I think I will resolve focus more of our resources on clean energy. Silas Prescott's 'clean energy' cover story for the Prism Gate may have been tripe, but it has gotten me thinking lately.”

“I'll resolve to make more of an effort to stay in contact with my dad,” Grace says. “He deserves to see more of his grandson.”

“I resolve to get more sleep,” Michelle announces, and is met with approving chuckles.

“And to help you with that resolution,” Sean adds, “I resolve to help you out more, especially with the wedding plans. Any task you need done, throw it my way and I will complete it to the best of my ability.”

“Welp, I'm gonna be completely predictable and resolve to get some more exercise,” Craig says, grinning. “Not saying I'm gonna in the kinda shape I was at Hartfeld, but Cheese Friday has gotten me a little mushy.”

“I like you mushy,” Zahra says firmly. “But I guess I like you healthy, too. So, I resolve to help you with your resolution by being your personal trainer and driving you mercilessly.”

Craig groans. “I think I'm regretting this already.”

By now we've circled around to Raj. “Okay, well. I'm resolving to be a little bit more organized. Take a little more responsibility for not just planning my shows, but paying a little more attention to logistics.”

He nods at Lila, who turns her gaze on the flames. “I resolve to let go of who I was before. To let go of Mr. Rourke and what I was to him. That isn't me anymore.”

Raj puts a hand on her shoulder. “Here, here.”

Lila smiles somewhat timidly before turning to the person beside her. “Jake? Your turn.”

“Me? Jesus, I dunno. Few more months, I'm gonna be someone's dad. Hard to think about anything beyond that. But I guess I resolve to get the nursery finished by then.”

“Which should be easy since Molly and Rob insist on letting professionals do most of it,” Diego snickers.

“Hey, if that crew is willing to come back after the way Jake was bossing them around over the wall and floors, I'll be impressed,” Alodia quips. Jake slings an arm over her shoulders, kissing her temple.

“That was my brilliant plan all along, Princess. So what's your resolution?”

“...Basically the same one I made last New Year's I experienced. I'm going to hold onto what matters. Stay in the moment and not worry about the past. Protect what I love. And...maybe look into finishing my degree, if motherhood permits me the time.”

Diego sighs. “So, am I seriously the one who's going to have the responsibility of throwing out the joke resolution? You guys are gonna make me be the one who resolves to eat more ice cream or something like that?”

“Hey!” Zahra yelps. “I'm the one who resolved to be Craig's personal trainer!”

“How is that a joke resolution?”

“Uh, because he played football, and if you haven't noticed, I have skinny T-rex arms?”

“Legs and ass, though,” Craig drawls, waggling his eyebrows. “Mmm-mm.”

“Craig, we all know your girlfriend's a snack. You can stop bragging about it.”

“Says my very gay best friend,” Alodia quips.

“Yeah, I'm gay, not blind. I'm just saying that if I had to pick a woman--”

“Thank you, Diego,” Zahra interrupts, smirking. “I'm flattered. I wouldn't kick you out of bed, either.”

“As...confusingly sweet as this little flirtation is, both of your men are sitting right here, and you should probably knock it off.”

“Yes, please do. Or I shall have to remind you who your fasted partner is.”

The dark-skinned man beside Diego pulls him playfully onto his lap. For a moment, I'm alarmed, thinking that a stranger has crept into our circle, until I remember Varyyn's disguise. Varyyn holds Diego against him, planting kisses on the back of his neck.

“Does this help improve your memory?” he asks between kisses.

“Mmm...it's getting there. I can almost remember now...”

“Okay, you two, save some of that for midnight. Varyyn, do you have a resolution for us?”

“Well...I suppose now that I can walk through the world a bit more openly, I suppose I would like to experience new things. Things I have hesitated to try for fear that I would be seen and questioned.”

“I can probably help you with some of that,” Mike remarks. “I'm planning on getting myself a little more settled in the area. Get a permanent job, possibly an apartment...try to put myself a little bit back in the world, more than I have been since I got back to the States.”

Jake reaches over to put a hand on Mike's shoulder. “...You know you're welcome here indefinitely. You're a big help, and every extra set of hands is gonna be a blessing once River's born.”

“I know. And I'm happy to help out however I can. ...But I also wanna get my own two feet back under me. ...Metaphorically speaking,” he adds ruefully, flexing one bionic foot.

“I can't say I don't get that,” Jake concedes. “And I'll fully support you. ...But you are welcome to stay with us as long as it takes.”

“Agreed,” Alodia adds. “It's a big place. It's your home until you're ready to move out.”

“Thanks. ...I feel like I should toast to that.”

“Oh! Good thinking, Mike!” Raj opens the cooler beside him, pulling out a bottle of champagne and a bag of plastic champagne flutes. “It's getting near enough to midnight to break out the bubbly. And don't worry, Alodia, I've got sparkling grape juice for you.”

“I wasn't worried. You've kept me well-stocked on mocktails this whole evening.”

“I live to serve!” Raj pops the cork and fills the glasses, passing them around the circle. When everyone has a glass, he raises his. “Here's to a New Year. Here's to Michelle and Alodia as they celebrate their twenty-eighth birthdays. Here's to Michelle and Sean as they prepare for their wedding, and here's to Alodia and Jake as they prepare to welcome the newest addition to our family. Here's to Reggie, who is almost a year old. We love you, little dude. ...Anyone have anything to add?”

“Here's to having Allie back with us,” Diego says.

“Here's to this family,” Alodia adds. “All of you mean everything to me, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Beside me, Quinn raises her glass. “Here's to love. Eros, storge, philia, and agape.”

We raise our glasses, tapping them against the ones beside us before taking a sip. Around the other bonfires on the beach, the neighbors have begun to shift, gathering together in anticipation of the countdown.

“Two minutes until midnight, everyone!”

Couples begin pairing off, ready to ring in the new year with a kiss. I stand, carefully pulling Quinn up with me. She stumbles a little, leaning heavily on me. She grins sheepishly up at me.

“Maybe I've had one too many cocktails...”

I grin back. Jesus, she's adorable. “We'll have time enough for you to sleep it off.”

“Mm...but I hope I don't fall asleep too quickly.” She winds her arms around my neck, standing on her toes to whisper in my ear, “I've got a few ideas on how to properly ring in the new year.”

“You remember we're sharing a guest room with Craig and Zahra, right?”

“It's a big house. We can find a place to disappear.”

“Thirty seconds until midnight!” Craig calls before I can answer.

In twenty seconds, the whole cove rings out with the sound of the massive gathering counting the last ten seconds until midnight. I join in, finding myself swept up in the festive mood. As the last count dissolves into cheers and applause, I bend toward the woman in my arms and press my mouth to hers. She parts her lips to receive me, tasting me hungrily. I feel my cheeks growing warm as my belly flutters with anticipation. It isn't enough to feel her in my arms, or to trace the inside of her mouth with my tongue. I reluctantly withdraw my tongue from her mouth, though I keep my lips close.

“...Where did you have in mind for us to disappear to?”

* * *

Locked in one of the beach house's luxurious bathrooms, Quinn and I lie naked and spent in the empty whirlpool bath, our sweat-slick bodies leaving impressions on the acrylic. I'm still trembling with the exertion of my last climax, feeling heady and languid as I sink into the afterglow with Quinn panting in my arms. I can still distantly hear voices elsewhere in the house, traveling through the vents to reach the bathroom. Gradually, Quinn's breathing slows and she lays her head on my chest.

“That was...incredible,” she murmurs around a yawn.

“Very,” I agree, stroking her copper hair, damp and tangled with sweat. “You are very...skilled.”

“So are you.”

“That is generous of you, but I know I am not. I was a virgin until about three years ago. I hadn't even had my first kiss until then. ...Before you, I'd had only two partners, both of them men.”

“Then you have good instincts. Or...perhaps you have experience enough with your own body to guess what might feel good on mine?”

“I suppose that could be it,” I concede. “The first man I slept with was very experienced. Very generous, too. A considerate lover. I learned a great deal about my body from him, and I suppose it's fair to say he awakened my appetites. Even after we were no longer seeing each other, I found I had learned to enjoy exploring my own body.”

“Sounds like a good way to lose your virginity.”

“It was. I'm grateful that my first time was with an attentive partner, even if the relationship didn't last.”

“My first time was probably much less pleasant. It was all consensual, but we were both virgins, and neither of us knew what we were doing.”

“What sort of...equipment was your partner sporting?”

“Outdoor plumbing,” she giggles. “A man. Well...I use the term loosely. It was freshman year at Hartfeld, and we were both barely legal previously sheltered kids drunk on the freedom of college. ...I spent a lot of nights in other people's beds that semester. Hooking up with every attractive person who was willing. But, that meant I learned a lot about sex, too.”

I chuckle. “You know, anyone who didn't know you better would never guess you were the type to have a series of one-night stands. They would think you were too sweet and innocent for that type of behavior.”

“But you know better?”

“I and all the other Catalysts certainly. We know that a sweet disposition doesn't preclude a sexual appetite. ...And it seems natural to me that in your circumstances, you would have had a lot of wild oats to sow, as the saying goes.”

“And you're a natural warrior. But that doesn't preclude a lack of sexual experience. It makes sense to me that you would have focused everything on your mission to the point of ignoring romance or even just sex because it wasn't a priority.”

“But lately, I find myself craving it. Especially with you.” I kiss the top of her head. “...Quinn? What would you like us to be to each other?”

“Well...girlfriends, for now. …That is what we are, right?”

“Well, I hope so. But...I was thinking of in the future. We've known each other for a long time. We've been friends for a long time. I've always loved you as my friend and fellow Catalyst. I always will. But...as my girlfriend, that's...”

“...It's a new dynamic. One that might take some getting used to. ...We'll see where this goes, Estela. I love you, too. I always have. ...I think I could love you as my girlfriend, too. And...maybe someday, as my wife? As a mother to my children?”

I nod, a smile on my lips. “Yes. Yes, that's what I'm hoping for, too. ...I am hoping that this is the relationship that lasts the rest of my life. ...I want to marry. I want to have a family. ...I hope that further down the line, you and I decide we want to have that together.”

“I agree that would be the ideal outcome.” Quinn sighs happily, yawning again. “...Mmm...I think I could just sleep here.”

I laugh. “We'll wake up freezing an hour from now if we don't at least put some clothes on. Besides, I really think a bed would be more comfortable.”

“We smell like sex. Craig and Zahra will know what we've been up to.”

“Do you think they haven't been up to it themselves? Even if they haven't, I'm not ashamed of having sex with my girlfriend.”

“Me neither. But maybe it's not polite to make our friends smell it.”

“Hmm, perhaps not. ...But I have an answer to that, I think. After all...we are in a bathtub.”

When we can finally summon the energy, we stop up the tub and turn on the water, filling it up to our chests. We turn on the jets and let the water massage our tired muscles as we tenderly bathe each other. The hot water saps the last of my energy, and clearly Quinn feels the same. We lean heavily on each other as we stumble to the guest room, wrapped in soft towels, water dripping off the ends of our hair. We'll clean up our mess in the bathroom in the morning, I decide.

Craig and Zahra haven't come to bed yet, so we turn on the light as we paw through our overnight bags for sleep clothes and toothbrushes. We throw on our pajamas, hastily brush our teeth, and stumble into one of the two double beds in the guest room. I just barely manage to kiss Quinn goodnight and draw her into my arms before I've fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

* * *

We're having an earthquake. That's the next thought I am aware of as I am forced out back to wakefulness by a vigorous vibration. As my roaming consciousness is unceremoniously dumped back into my brain, my waking body struggles to make sense of my surroundings. My hand fumbles for Quinn and finds her still curled against my body. I realize there is a hand on my shoulder. That's where the shaking is coming from. And there is a person speaking.

“Estela!” My brother's voice is a whisper, but there's an urgency in it that turns the sound harsh. “Estela, wake up!”

“...Aleister?” I roll over, rubbing my eyes. Quinn stirs beside me, and past Aleister, I can see Zahra tucked in the other bed, lifting her head off the pillow. I can faintly hear Craig snoring beside her.  I try to look at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds, but the room is still dark, and my eyes seem disinclined to focus. “...What time is it?”

“It's a little after five in the morning. But I'm afraid this can't wait.”

There's something in his voice that makes my stomach go hot and then cold before settling into a hard lump. In an instant, I am awake. I meet his eyes in the dim light of the moon that comes through the window, and nod toward the door that leads to the hall. As he gets off the bed, Quinn sleepily mumbles my name.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep, mi sirenita. I'll be right back.”

“Mmmokay...” Quinn yawns and rolls over again, her breathing deep and even within seconds. I'm not sure she was ever fully awake. I follow Aleister out into the hall.

“...What's wrong?”

“Estela, I just got a call from the mental institution in Northbridge. ...They said that...they found Father dead in his room this morning.”

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 10. Random thoughts.

GS crew is back, baby! I just got done reading though most of the Re:Zero LNs. Loved it but it's still emotional gutpunch after gutpunch and the series about murdering cruel rapist goblins is surprisingly uplifting so I could use this right now. Would not have call that before starting either of them.

It’s been three years since then...

So what you're saying is she's almost 18... Yeah, I don't care if 15 is considered adult in their world, there's a reason it's not here.

This time, it was just the two of them. He complained that his intuition was worse than before, but it was probably just because the others worked with them so well. Normally a single arrow from their elven archer would have felled that warg, and the party would have advanced carefully into the nest. Their dwarven shaman would have appraised the construction of the place immediately and been able to tell them if there were any back doors— or if the goblins might be digging through the walls. And if it came to a fight, their lizardman would leap in with a great howl, his arms and legs and fangs and tail tearing open a path for them.

I've always liked how clear of a positive effect having a party has had on his mental health but it is neat this little detail that he's maybe been relying on them a little too and thus some of his own solo skills have dulled a little. No idea if anyone's seen CW's Arrow but I remember a big complaint about that show was that Oliver used to be able to do a lot of stuff on his own and as his team got bigger it felt like his competence shrank. The big speculated reason for this is that the writers needed to give the other characters stuff to do so that they wouldn't feel useless and thus Oliver had to be written less capable than he'd already been shown to be. If they'd given the reason that his skills had dulled a little because he'd gotten so comfortable having people he trusted watching his back and thus he didn't have to do everything by himself anymore, maybe the fans would have been a little more lenient.

Cow Girl’s was the face of a girl whose village had been destroyed by goblins, yet shadows no longer clung to any part of it. Every time he saw that, Goblin Slayer would let out a relieved breath.

Aww. That's sweet.

Cow Girl looked up, confused, but her uncle, still looking less than thrilled, continued brusquely: “Let him borrow it.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s more or less selling his own body, isn’t he?”

Somewhere Sword Maiden just jumped out of her chair, felt the urge to grab her wallet, and doesn't know why.

For her to show up sharing a raincoat with a man, even a man from her party...

And that’s just the way it is. Nothing more to say about it!

She had already worried them when she went off to become an adventurer. She didn’t want to give them any strange ideas to boot.

This book is just shamelessly pandering to the shipper side of me.

It was shortly thereafter that the rumors began to spread that Sister Grape was the daughter of a goblin.

Well, that escalated quickly. You'd think in a world with literal monsters and demons, humans wouldn't have the time to be racist towards each other but here we are. Not even just because she has dark skin but also I believe she's the only character so far who has a name that's actually pretty close to being a name instead of just a description. She's not called Vineyard Nun or anything like that. Sister Grape sounds like an actual name.

“Wight,” Goblin Slayer echoed. “...I don’t know that word. Is it some kind of monster?”

“You don’t know any word except goblin.” High Elf Archer frowned, reaching for her quiver and pulling out a bud-tipped arrow.

Now, that's not true. He knows about vampires (surprisingly) and dragons I'm pretty sure. I'd like to think because both are legendary monsters that he, as a little boy, dreamed about slaying someday when he became an adventurer. You know, before he was traumatized for life.

“Ah,” Goblin Slayer replied. “Not a gargoyle, then.”

High Elf Archer’s ears twitched, and Priestess forgot her pain for a moment and blinked. “You... You know about those...?”

“Of course I do.”

Oh yeah, and gargoyles. He knows what those are too.

The goblin fell with a thump, but then, soundlessly, its body floated up, rising slowly in the mist.

“These are not goblins,” Goblin Slayer spat in frustration.

“They’re obviously undead...!” High Elf Archer shouted back, firing off a literal hail of arrows.

Goblin zombies?! Gombies! Zoblins! I knew this would happen someday! Ever since they talked about the vampire goblins I've been waiting for some kind of mixed goblin monster to show up. The Vamblins show up that's going to be terrifying. The Zoblins at least don't have any ability to think.

Also, Lizard Priest f**ked that demon up. That was awesome!

And goblin slaying alone, at worst, would claim only his own life. When acting as the leader of a group, the lives of his friends (another soft grunt accompanied this thought) were riding on him, but solo, it was different.

In this case, though, everything was different. This was not about him. It was not about goblins. If he got it wrong, it was not he who would bear the consequences.

He had never once been under the illusion that he had become a master of all trades. There were a great many things he couldn’t do. But to realize just how few cards he really held—it was unpleasant.

He registered all this, but still he was just a single, impotent man. No different from when he was hiding under the floorboards...

Something I've always liked about this series is that Goblin Slayer is a complete badass...but the story never lets that completely overwhelm the rest of his character. He's allowed to be vulnerable, he's allowed to completely acknowledge and accept his shortcomings, and most important is that he very clearly cares about people. He doesn't hide that he cares but rather he just doesn't really know how to show it. His trauma isn't used to make him a hardass or just say that he's tough but rather that he was badly damaged at a young age and it stuck with him in more ways than just wanting to murder all goblins.

She went from the Guild to the Temple and back virtually every day, and today her footsteps felt even heavier than usual. Once again, it wasn’t as if anything specific had happened. It was just that the unyielding accumulation of the days had begun to weigh upon Priestess’s narrow shoulders.

Yeah, I think we're all knowing that feeling these days, sadly.

“You don’t trust others; you force others,” Heavy Warrior said, deflating her at the very climax of her speech. “When someone’s got power, whether it’s a god or a devil, it’s their power. They can use it how they like.”

“But as they say, with great power comes great responsibility...!”

Naofumi: "Oh, I just didn't know you'd been bitten by a spider, pal."

I tend to love good parallels in stories (you should see me fanboy over the parallels in My Hero Academia) and I like the parallel that's being brought up in this book between Priestess and Goblin Slayer, namely the dependency they've noticed they're having on the other members of their party. Priestess worried that maybe nothing's changed and she hasn't grown since GS first saved her from that cave and Goblin Slayer remarking not just on his dulled instincts but just how different his life has become because of them. While the farm might be getting involved, he probably never would have paid much attention to the Sister Grape rumor and never likely have gotten involved in the situation if it wasn't for his connection to Priestess.

I liked the whole bit with the wine merchants son asking GS and Priestess for help. I don't mind when a character has darker thoughts or impulses to do something they know they shouldn't (depending on what it is, obviously) so long as they still choose not to do it or hold onto those thoughts for too long. It's completely understandable why Priestess is so angry over what's been happening to her friend and wanting to take that out of those she has reason to believe are responsible. She still doesn't do it and she does at least consciously force herself to acknowledge what the right thing is.

Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Cleric—no, one hesitated to use those names for them anymore—were among the parties present.

So do we call them Warrior and Cleric now or would that be in bad taste, given the uh...other Warrior we had early on?

They didn’t erase their footprints. That suggests their leader is a goblin as well.

If they were really serving as foot soldiers for the forces of Chaos, they would have been given some kind of equipment. There was always the possibility they would attempt some trickery; he had to be prepared.

If I ever were to make a Top Ten list of my favorite villains in fiction, the goblins would at least get an honorable mention. The fact that they're rapists holds them back a lot but I really like that, since the series is primarily about fight them, the goblins are very well defined in what they are, what they do, why they do it, how they do it, how they think, and they consistently feel dangerous even though we're seeing them be killed all the time. They're like the Xenomorphs from the Alien franchise, only maybe even a little scarier because there is such an active malice behind them. There's just always this sense of dread whenever they're involved, like you can't feel safe until you know for sure that they're all dead.

Adventures are fun, but...

It pained him to have to sit and wait to see what would happen, not knowing if the plan he had put into motion would work. In his mind, it was ideal to take a situation in hand, to change things oneself, to know what was going on. None of that should be ceded to others.

...One should not do what one is unused to, Goblin Slayer thought, and underneath his helmet, his lips twisted upward ever so slightly. Maybe it was simply that he had done one thing for so long that he had become accustomed to it. Gracious...

But this is what I’m suited to. Not city adventures.

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

When one became a party leader or the commander of an army, it behooved him to consider how to give his comrades peace of mind. Thus, he must not become frantic or show panic. Not fear, either. Nor excitement or agitation.

Goblin Slayer had never been so thankful for his helmet as he was this day. He had no confidence that he could present such a front. How must he look to Priestess? And his other companions? Guild Girl kept pointing out that he was a Silver-ranked adventurer. But what was that?

But I am Goblin Slayer.

That was how he, keenly aware of the rank tag dangling at his neck, defined himself: just a few short words. He was Goblin Slayer, and this was a goblin hunt. He had only to do exactly that. It was what he was good at.

I've always liked how Goblin Slayer has never had much trouble admitting when others are better than him, like when he fully admitted Heavy Warrior is a much better leader than him. And now this book is kind of pushing him a little out of his usual comfort zones. He's still slaying goblins but he realizes he's been needing to step up, that people are looking to him as a leader, and he's doing a lot more than just the simplicity of goblin hunting. I'm kind of being reminded of my favorite scene from Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. I like the idea that the little 10 year old boy training with Burgler never thought he'd have anything in his life other than killing goblins. He never thought he'd be happy or have connections to other people, and because of how emotionally stunted he is he's not sure how to deal with it or how to feel. It's obviously a good thing he has so many people he cares about and who care about him. Priestess and the others have helped him heal more from his trauma in the past two, going on three, years than the five years prior of killing goblins alone ever did. But his life isn't as simple as it once was and that worries him a little. It's like when he told Spearman the only thing he couldn't give him was his life, not with Cow Girl waiting at home for him. It's not just his life that's on the line anymore. If he dies, others will be sad, and if he fails, others will get hurt.

He had hoped he might never hear that sound again in his lifetime.

“It’s a chariot...!”

They have goblin gladiators now?!

Well, they did until GS sent them smashing into the the goblin pirates (or would these ones be more like goblin vikings? The sewers ones were more like pirates). It's when we eventually get to the goblin ninjas that we're well and truly f**ked. Goblins are not a creature you want to learn the secrets of stealth.

So this book had both Priestess and Goblin Slayer doubting themselves in similar but very different ways. Both worried they can't step up when they're needed. One worried about how little she's changed and the other about how much things around him have changed. In the end the moral seems to be that it's okay to rely on others, as everyone including them has their place. They've both grown but Priestess was feeling impatient, wanting to be even better than she is, and Goblin Slayer was feeling things had changed too fast.

Now, what's all this talk about Cow Girl and marriages? Are we gonna eventually get a scene like in Shrek where Priestess, filling the role of Donkey, has to explain to Goblin Slayer the proper, most romantic way of breaking up a wedding? Thankfully her uncle doesn't seem to have any interest in just giving her away but they brought it up and just dropped it enough times in this volume to make me paranoid something's gonna happen.....and that we'll be getting some fanservice-y images of Cow Girl in a wedding dress.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/ikrfg4/read_through_light_novel_vol_10_random_thoughts/

[dontcallmecarrie]

I just binge read TWiFFON, and its sidefic and almost everything that's here about this universe and sadgkjhakjg you're amazing and this is amazing and I love you and this is one of the best fics (out of MCU fics especially) I've ever read. IM1 is one of my favorite movies ever, I love Tony very much and it hurts to see what they're doing to him in MCU (and what they're doing with all the characters, really), and I love your portrayal of him so much, because that's real Tony. (1/4)

Competent, genius Tony, owner of the huge company, the man, who, without the suit, is still the person who’s built this suit. From scraps. In a cave. In Afghanistan. While being tortured. Revolutionizing science on the way. I’m looking at you, Mr. I-Saw-The-Footage(And-Made-My-Judgment-Before-Actually-Meeting-You-And-Decided-You-Suck). Yeah, you can see how I just -love- Steve in this moment in “Avengers”. (2/4)

I always wondered what footage he saw, btw. From before-Afghanistan? From the IM2 Senate hearing? From the disastrous IM2 b-day party? Even if the scepter amplified their feelings, those feelings had to be there in the first place. And AoU and CW just make me go Hulk, so most of the time I pretend they didn’t happen and don’t exist unless we’re talking about -consequences-. It’s been years and I’m still bitter and salty as the Dead Sea. (¾)

Um. Anyways, I love you and your awesome fic, thank you so much for your writing

Glad you’re liking it so far, and thanks! 

Also: same. [the rest is under the cut because surprise meta’s apparently a thing, as are major spoilers, and I get very rambly, RIP mobile users otherwise.]

I got into the MCU when it first kicked off, and my favorite movie’s a toss-up between IM1 and The Avengers [though, due to recent events, I’m really leaning towards the former nowadays]. I love all the characters, and if I had a heart [because no, I don’t, nope, nothing’s ever made me tear up nope heart of stone right here], it’d be hurting because of the turn the MCU’s taken lately, and the level of character assassination I’ve seen is….the best comparison I can think of include the way Naruto ended [specifically, Sakura], or…well, you get the picture.

Just…the turn canon took, after Phase 1, left a bitter taste in my mouth. Tony’s my favorite character, and seeing how the world’s done its level best to break him when his origin story is literally him forging his armor from the guns that would’ve killed him otherwise is something that I have very strong feelings about. Add to that my spite after seeing the turn the fandom took after Civil War, and I couldn’t not write the fic where he actually [albeit accidentally] took over the world, by taking him back to his roots. 

[aka TWiFFON’s basically me venting passive-aggressively about the issues I have with the MCU]

As for my take on Steve? 

Even if it doesn’t look it, I kinda liked his character, early on. The way his character was mangled by the writers is another thing entirely, however, and after Phase 1 my enthusiasm didn’t wane so much as it tanked, especially after Age of Ultron. [ditto as to Civil War.]

But early on? I actually liked his character. My headcanon/take on his approach during the first Avengers movie was him being adrift in a world that’s moved on without him, so of course he’s clinging to what he remembers. 

That ended up being something that SHIELD/HYDRA took advantage of, though, and while Fury tried to help, the HYDRA guys did their level best to sabotage him, which succeeded in ways that don’t show up until later on. For instance, while Fury’s crew was the one to break the news of ‘so you slept 70 years, welcome to the future’, it was a HYDRA contingent that were the ones to ‘ease’ him into it, and so his briefings on history and whatnot were basically sabotaged. 

As in, they made sure to focus on the shitty parts of the past century, and glossed over the progress, and did their best to be subtle about it so that when Fury came around, he thought it was ‘okay Steve’s still settling in and hurting’ rather than ‘Steve’s hurting and everywhere he looks only makes it worse’. I mean, it wouldn’t even have been hard; breaking the news would’ve been dicey enough as is, but I can guarantee that HYDRA would’ve pulled no punches in painting everything to be as shitty as they could. 

I mean, even if they were trying to help, it would’ve been hard enough: because good luck updating the guy who literally did a suicide run to prevent his home country from being bombed about the Manhattan Project. 

That alone would’ve been messy enough, but also going through Korea and Vietnam and the list just goes on, while also trying to go ‘we’re the good guys’, and I’m pretty sure Steve’s faith in humanity would’ve taken a hit somewhere in there. And that’s if it was SHIELD who was doing it; if it was HYDRA instead? Just…yikes.

And Tony has a lot of fodder that could be used against him. 

He’s a powerhouse, a loose cannon, and is very visibly anti-establishment when it comes to some things, so when Steve’s trying to cling to a vestige of the past, it’s so, very easy for a HYDRA technician to pull some clips of Tony’s messing around and gloss over ‘yeah he’s also a genius and built a suit somewhere along the way’ while doing their level best to make sure that Steve does not like Tony, because if those two got along it would not end well for HYDRA so best nip that in the bud. [I’ve got a fic idea that plays with that premise, actually, but…rambling again, oops.]

Doesn’t help that people’s values have changed, either; nowadays, we’re a lot more cynical as to what’s going down in Congress, for instance, or the military-industrial complex, so just right there’s some culture clash. Iirc, pre-Nixon, people viewed what happened in DC differently than they do now, and I don’t think Clinton helped any, either. And that’s just one example.

tl;dr: I headcanon that HYDRA sabotaged Steve’s possible relationship with Tony, among other things. 

Now, when it comes to the world domination thing…

You can probably tell I’m having a lot of fun with it. It’s part of what helps keep the tone of TWiFFON fun for me to write, and I’m choosing to go the cracky route instead of the grimdark serious one because this fic’s self-indulgence at its finest, and my life is stressful enough as is. 

Because, I mean, for me it’s either laugh or cry, and I can’t afford to cry, when it comes to the tire fire that’s going on. I can laugh or cry, so I’d rather go for deadpan ‘so apparently this shit’s more plausible than some of what I’m seeing in the news’ rather than get even more gray hair stressing out over stuff I have no control over. [Playing with power dynamics in a fictional universe where there’s magic and aliens is very good stress relief, is what I’m saying.] Plus, y’know, it gives me an outlet for whenever I see yet another ‘Tony Stark was the villain!’ post. 

You probably know that originally, TWiFFON was supposed to be way darker [and shorter]. However, thanks to…life, I decided to go for broke and went ‘screw it, this is stress relief so might as well go for broke’, and since I love the Accidental World Domination trope…[getting rambly again, oops] 

Thus, why it’s going to take a literal Destroyer of Worlds to break it to Tony that yes, he took over the world. Oops. 

However, since apparently I can’t help but be pedantic about power dynamics and politics and whatnot: it’s probably more low-key than some of my readers are expecting. Here, it’s not going to really show until we reach the Final Battle arc, but I’m trying my best to avoid imperialistic tones where that part’s concerned. 

Like, yes, the fic’s going to devolve to crack by then, but the world domination part’s going to end up being due to basically [heads up for major fic spoilers]:

The world: so 

The world: you have Skynet in your pocket. A horde of them, even.

Tony: guys, you are so grounded why’d you pull that stunt I told you—

JARVIS: *is unrepentant*

FRIDAY: *is also unrepentant*

JOCASTA: *is shamelessly using her full capabilities to help clean up the battlefield*

Tony: JARVIS, you were supposed to the the role model, not the bad influenc—

Tony: wait what do you mean you want me to take them offline

Tony: okay you know what? Fight me

on top of everything else. But the above being the main motivation for Tony’s not stepping down after the Final Battle, and I intend to go into more detail when the matter comes up. [Hopefully I do it right.]

But for the most part?

It’s not like he can put it on his shelf to collect dust or anything, no way does he want to rule the world! Tony’s got more than enough power as is, and he’s happy enough being the Head of R&D. Hell, he’s got more than enough as his plate as is, why the fuck would he want to add to his workload?! Strange, stop laughin—Rhodey, why are you giving Hope money? Thor, you too—what do you mean ‘you lost a bet’? JARVIS, you are so grounded!

aka his life is s u f f e r i n g because he didn’t sign up for any of this, thank you very much, how is this his life, where did he go wrong in his life choices?

Strange, you can stop laughing any time now. Any time. 

…screw it, might as well roll with it. Anyone mind if they call themselves the Federation if any other aliens come around? Or would that violate some copyright law? 

meanwhile, elsewhere: 

everyone at Stark Industries is scratching their heads and wondering where the miscommunication happened before shrugging and carrying along because business as usual now includes world domination, oops

Pepper’s in Maui finally getting her vacation. 

JARVIS doesn’t really mind, as it simply means he has less variables to control for to help keep Tony safe and happy, so he’s completely and utterly shameless about it all. Even if he’s so, very grounded for pulling the stunts he did during the Final Battle arc. 

Fury is in an unspecified location, laughing at Tony while also feeling very proud of him because this is the opposite of a problem and free entertainment at its finest, yes, this was worth it. Not what he’d expected, but most definitely worth the headache.

[just putting it out there to hopefully give an idea of what I’m aiming for, at the end of the fic.] Hopefully it gets across right. Just…world domination, but with a kinda relaxed take on things.

Kinda sorry for the spoilers, but that moment’s one of the ones I’ve been really looking forward to and it’s been the better part of a year and this fic just keeps growing.

[shadedsoldier-blog]

Lynx Task #1 : Arrival

“Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here's what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it's still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it's been too long since you missed them last.”

Death CW, Implied Murder/Assassination CW

Lights flickered in the quiet of the ER waiting room. A few nurses sat behind the corner eyeing him in a judgemental fashion. As if he was the worst human being alive, a bug that deserved to be squashed with the dark satisfaction of doing the right thing. He didn’t need their self-righteous attitude to know he had screwed up. He was well aware of that on his own. Thank you very much. He hadn’t been there to protect them and this was the result.

Kieran Byrne typically considered himself a self-sufficient man. He had a nice apartment in a fairly decent neighbourhood where he lived with his girlfiend and three year old son. Admittedly, neither of which were things he had ever envisioned to be present in his life. It had all been purely accidental-- falling in love with the bartender of one of his more frequent haunts, giving up his life on the road to settle down and assume the identity of a normal person; Cillian O'Dwyer. But it had proven to be a happy accident, one that allowed him to live and begin to forget the things he had survived.

The Shade had simply faded into the background noise of the criminal underworld, all lines of contact to hire his skills for various criminal activity drying up out of the blue. Some thought him dead, others thought it proof that he never existed in the first place. Whichever was the truth, his subtle presence in the underground was set aside for something simpler. Kieran should have anticipated that it was all too good to be true.

He’d been out securing one of his bunkers left operational just in case he ever felt the need to return to the life he’d stepped away from. Walking up the stairs and onto the street he slotted the battery back into his phone and powered it up. A sudden stream of information filled the previously empty screen.

:// 3 Missed Calls - Sarah

:// Missed Call Unknown Caller

:// 3 New Voicemails

Frowning at the screen he swiped his thumb across the voicemail and lifted his phone to his ear, heart picking up as the automated voice spoke skipping ahead to the message the hushed panicked tone of his partner echoing across the line.

Message one left at eight-thirty eight PM beeeeep “Ian? I don’t know where you are but we need you, I don’t know who they are but they’re looking for you. They’re here in the house, they don’t know me or Aiden are here but-- First chance I get we’re taking the car and getting out of here. Please phone me back when you get this. You know where to meet us.” Message end.

Message two left at eight-fifty nine PM beeeeep “Ian? Oh my god, Ian--- they’re following us. Aiden’s in the car we’re on the road but I don’t we’re going to get away from them-- Please, please pick up we need you.”

Message three left at nine-eleven PM beeeeep “Hello? Mister O’Dwyer? My name is Doctor Harris, you were listed down as the emergency contact in the phone of a one Sarah Jenkins. I can’t seem to reach you and will try again in an hour, I don’t wish to alarm you although I would advise you should come to New York Presbyterian emergency department as soon as possible. An accident involving your partner and child occurred on the highway out of the city and they were just brought in along with another set of drivers. I will update you with more details once you arrive.”

No new messages. Please press one to repeat, two to delete---

By the end of the three messages Kieran’s blood had run cold, hands trembling he almost dropped the phone as he shut it down and shoved it into his pocket. There was barely any time to react, not that he was particularly in the state to react to anything the only thought on his mind being the look of fear in Sarah and Aiden’s tired eyes. It was past his bedtime after all. Fear clutched his every sense as he tried to focus on the destination, his heart beating wildly, breathing heavy the shadows almost violently engulfing him as his form melded from the street corner on which he’d been stood not caring for who saw him in his rush through the darkness of the city practically bolting out of the side alley near to the hospital. Fear carrying him swiftly through the rotating doors until he skidded to a halt by the nurse’s desk out of breath and oh so fearful.

“Sarah Jenkins-- and Aiden O’Dwyer, I was---” he heaved a breath trying to calm down “I was told they were here by a Doctor Harris?. Oh lord please tell me they’re here.”

The nurse behind the desk looked up at his dishevelled appearance calculatingly before tapping the search into the database. “All it says here is that they’ve both been taken into the operating theatre. I’m sorry, you’ll have to go to the waiting room and sign the forms and paperwork until any further updates come through. I’ll alert doctor Harris to your arrival.”

:// 8 hours later

With paperwork done, Kieran was left alone with his own thoughts. It wasn’t a pleasant experience frankly. He usually avoided it at all cost, because what was the point of dwelling in the past? He hadn’t let himself do it in so long because he had something worth living for. People worth living for, people to take care of. Sarah and Aiden were his priorities, which meant there was little time left for him to feel sorry for himself.

Unfortunately, now it seemed that he had enough spare time to actually do it for once. The thinking thing. It wasn’t going well.

Kieran was a mess, he’d done everything in his power but the anxiety was ratcheting up every second that passed. A frustrated groan left his lips as he drew his hand through his hair, elbows pinning his jacket to his knees, where it rested crumpled. His wrinkled, pale blue shirt was left untucked, first few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up. He’d lost so much in his life already, his parents, his younger brother and sister and the possibility of losing the woman he loved along with their son in the same day because of him, his history was just... He let out a breath and pressed his face into his palms for once in his life uttering a prayer to whatever deity above might just be listening. Aiden had his whole life ahead of him, he was too young for any of this. Thanks to his negligence and error of details his family had ended up here. Ended up in the hospital fighting death, just as all the others loved ones in his life had before. 

I promise, if they make it through this I’ll leave. Find somewhere new, and keep them safe by staying away. Just please. Please let them pull through.

Rubbing his face tiredly he glanced at the still closed ER doors, back aching from the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room unable to bring himself to get up and pace. He felt so drained. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he arrived. How much longer would it take anyway? What were they doing? Were they scared? Or even conscious? He seemed to be drifting to sleep before. The thoughts just kept swirling in his head over and over again.

The sound of double doors opening caused him to look up breaking from his morbid thoughts, his cynical nature unwilling to allow him to be hopeful for anything. And perhaps it was for the best because the look on the doctor’s face was enough to say everything the next words did. 

“I’m so sorry Mister O’Dwyer... We did everything we could but the injuries they sustained were too severe. If there’s---”

Something about that look made Kieran break inside the rest of the doctor’s words fading out to the ringing in his ears. He felt his eyes burn, filling up with tears more quickly than he thought possible. Swallowing thickly he shoved himself stiffly to his feet shoving past the doctor, heart aching he couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t afflicted with some disease, slowly clawing itself apart in his chest. He took a trembling breath, looking away with fisted hands as he walked  away but it was just as he turned the corner he caught the tail end of a conversation .

“Hear those other drivers survived--- shouldn’t be that way. Two men for a woman and child. Bleedin’ disgraceful if you ask me. They’re putting them up in recovery their items are being put in storage.”

In a moment Kieran felt his grief turn to something else, a familiar addictive urge of dark tendencies creeping its way back into his mind. It was familiar, an urge to hunt, maim and kill. He’d done it plenty of times before that it didn’t even surprise him anymore. If he was honest it was quite the urge to experience and as addictive and all consuming as any other drug if not more potent. Making his mind up Kieran swiped away his tears subtly glanced around noting no cameras on the desk. It wouldn’t take long to find... 

Blue eyes narrowed and darker than before. His posture straightened up, hands curling along with his tension-filled body. There was an edge to him now, a dangerous one who soon enough he found himself hunched over the keyboard shadows melded around his hands as makeshift gloves searching the database noting the information logged for the two patients being transferred and making a quick note of it on a nearby notepad. Ripping off the page he shoved it into his pocket and high-tailed it for the door. He’d caught onto the thread, now he needed to start pulling to untangle the overall bundle.

They would get what was coming for them.

:// 4 months later

It was a lovely night. The city was alive as Kieran steered his motorcycle through the lanes of traffic, cruising down roads and watching people go about their lives. Oblivious for now. He frowned under his helmet as a few couples walked along the shopfronts - although most were closing down now - window shopping with their heads closed together, murmuring and smiling at each other. 

Kieran watched as he passed them, and couldn’t help the envy he felt when he did look at them. When he looked at any couple; recalling just what it felt like. What it was like to have someone look at you with admiration and respect, instead of anger, loathing, or even hatred. With mutual understanding. 

With love.

There was no point staying here, not anymore. No point in watching the world go by in a wave of colour and cacophony. Lingering here wouldn’t do any good. Which explained why his route soon took him straight out of the city. There was no destination in mind. His home packed up and put away in boxes; left to be forgotten and only the bags loaded to the bike containing the things he needed to get by. Maybe Canada would be an idea... 

Passing a coffee shop the sudden thought of a drink caused him to pull off the road and kick the stand on his bike down. Climbing off he took off his gloves heading for the door but paused at the occurrence within. Glancing at the news reporter on the TV, silence from the clientele all of whom seemed attuned to the breaking news report.

“Good evening and as we come on the air tonight, America is just coming to grips with what happened here in the early hours of this morning. A massacre here at this warehouse behind me, where several notorious gang members were brutally slaughtered by an unknown assailant. No details have been released thus far regarding the investigation or the individual or group of individuals responsible for this violent act. Police arrived at the scene shortly after gunfire was heard from the site by witnesses but so far no organisation or individual has claimed responsibility for this mass murder. We will keep you updated with news regarding this developing event, if you have any information at all regarding this please contact the number on the screen.”

Suddenly reconsidering the thought of getting a coffee Kieran backtracked, soon enough back on the road and continuing on his drive to no where. He’d driven for twenty-minutes or so when the bike spluttered, “for fucks sake” he groused looking down at the almost empty dial. Hadn’t he filled up before he left? God damn it.

Spotting a slip road he could only assume would lead to a house or somewhere that he might be able to refuel Kieran sighed, pulling on the handlebars and redirecting the bike along the route. That was until he ended up coming to a halt in the grounds of a large building, an ornate sign nearby catching his attention. Lynx Academy. Great. A stupid private school, But with the state of his tank he needed some assistance of some sort, maybe someone here would have something to help him out?

Shaking his head Kieran twisted the throttle and drove into the very place he would stay for the next eight years of his life.