#when people say 'they will always be remembered' at a funeral--that is a THREAT

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (2)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x Jin, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, Enemies to friends to lovers, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt and Comfort,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 8.6k

—  Warnings: funerals, referenced violence, threats of violence, organized crime, manipulation, angst, hurt/comfort,

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! —

(Last Chapter)

While Betas are valued for their level heads, they are also valued primarily as secret keepers.

Yoongi is probably the best secret keeper in the whole state, maybe the whole country even. Yoongi keeps his family’s secret so well that he doesn’t even let himself think it most days.

It only bothers him when he remembers. Yoongi does not like remembering where he came from, he does not like remembering his blood family. Not his found family, not the pack. I get that it’s confusing, but ‘blood family’ couldn’t be more accurate when it comes to talking about the people that Yoongi is genetically related too.

They’re the ones that painted Yoongi’s hands with blood when he was barely old enough to drive a car, who taught him how to kill and get away with it. But getting away with murder is child’s play to the largest organized crime family in the continental united states.  

Alphas, Betas and Omegas. In the family- everyone has their place. Everyone has their spot in the hierarchy. As a beta, Yoongi won’t be expected to pop out heirs like an omega- or cultivate the family business like an alpha. He won’t be expected to mate because betas don’t mate the same way that alphas and omega’s do.

Beta mating bites are too strong- people say. They make you go crazy, it’s not worth the risk. People have died from them.

There’s only one person that Yoongi would ever want to give his mating bit too anyway and he’d never risk it. Not when Namjoon is right there- ready and wailing to carry Seokjin’s soul the day they met. They’ll wait a few years for propriety’s sake. But Yoongi has always known that he’d never know what it feels like to be mated to someone else.

Never. 

Being a beta born into a mafia family is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand- Yoongi is `-expected to have little to no involvement in most of the violence. Tradition orders that the betas shouldn’t sully their hands with blood, drugs, and gunpowder. 

Their job is much much more important than that.

~-~

(6 years later, 120 days before, Yoongi)

Like with most good tragedies, this story starts with a death and a secret. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

For Yoongi, coming back to the family feels like walking into a nightmare.

Despite his derision and hate for where he came from, Yoongi’s always been able to wear the mask. He finds himself putting it on to a snug fit the day of the funeral. He got into the hotel late last night and the tiredness weighs on him as does the unanswered text messages from his pack. The tiredness drags him down down down, past his grief and past his hopes for a future that involves any sort of permanent happiness as he stares out the window of the car, spotted with dark beads of rain.

His phone dings.

Jinnie (12:34): Hey! Could you let me know that you got in safe? Joonie’s going a little crazy lol.

He can still smell Jin faintly on him from their last hug at the train station only 18 hours ago. All he has to do is close his eyes to feel like he’s standing right next to him. The memory is both painful and sweet. Yoongi doesn’t have the heart to wash away the pack’s scents quiet yet.

He doesn’t know the next time he’ll have Jin’s scent on him. He should savor it while he can.

Yoongi knows better than to hope that this will be just a brief diversion. He can’t lie to Jin or tell him the truth, so he opts to say nothing instead. To leave the texts un-answered, read receipts off. Maybe he’ll answer tonight- when he’s gauged the situation and how risky it might be.

Yoongi already misses the pack, feels their absence from his side like a physical wound. He doesn’t know how other beta’s do it; every time he turns, he expects to see one of them. Body already screaming in a touch starved language of humming skin and aching muscles. Had it been just yesterday morning that he’d woken up in Tae’s arms with Jungkook nuzzling into the small of his back? Is he only 24 hours removed from it? Why does it already feel a lifetime away?

Yoongi can’t believe that it’s over, can’t respond to the text, can’t resist making any message sound like goodbye. Can’t accept that for all intents and purposes, they’ve already said goodbye.  

There’s a very good chance that none of them, Jin nor Namjoon or any of the 4 other members of his pack will ever see him again.

For what it’s worth, Yoongi didn’t want to go.

He’d paused at a hotel to drop his bags off this morning, but the lady at the front already knew him by name and had a reservation ready for him before he’d spoken two sentences for her. The calling card on the bed paired with an Armani suit had let Yoongi know that one house was already hoping to earn his favor.

His Korean is rusty- but not rusty enough that he can’t read the neat lettering.

The Choi family cordially invites you to dine with them next Saturday. Please take this gift as a gesture of our good will and enduring friendship.

He’d tossed the card back onto the bed and sighed. They couldn’t have waited one day before trying to court him?

The suit is stuffy, but it compliments his mask well enough to be necessary as he makes his way up the steps of the cathedral. He can walk like one of them and talk like one of them and can wear their consumes. But it will never fit right. The sneer on his face or the emptiness in his eyes is just an act. The guards at the front do not stop and ask him who he is. Anyone who’s anyone knows Yoongi’s face.

Arguably- he’s the most important alive person alive at the funeral. 

He’s given a wide birth. Those who know who he is hide their whispers and shock behind velvet gloved hands and the curl of their teeth.

The closer he gets the more he feels his persona drape over him like a shroud. He knows how his eyes look when he tilts his face downwards and lifts his lip in a soundless snarl. He knows how to look like a threat and act like they expect. Yoongi is a god among men, Yoongi will offer them no salvation or chance at hope. Just like with God; if they want something from him, they’ll have to earn it through devotion.

And even then, he might not give in.

He lets his angry scent roll off of him in waves- a warning before he wades through the sea of people. A hundred or maybe two all in black. His scent is Oceanic and briny, the sea of people part around him giving him a wide berth. Yoongi has always smelled like sea salt when angry. The sweet chocolate of his scent going bitter and yucky. They expect it from him. Betas have more important things to do than attend funerals, more important things to grieve than family members. Betas belong to no one and everyone.

Not all of the hatred or derision is faked. Yoongi does not like these people.

He hasn’t thrown up because of a dead body in years, but the matching caskets almost do it to him. Their cold faces, the sallow almost grey black tint to their skin. Powdered and dotted with morticians puddy to turn their cheeks less hollow. The makeup powdery but very opaque. They turn his stomach as he pays his respects. No one bothers to approach him until he’s stopped kneeling. He lingers, unwilling to surrender himself up to the dogs quiet yet.

The Don of the family and his beta are smaller in death. His salt and pepper hair falls flat, his dark suit baggy. The beta’s long grey hair is braided over her shoulder the same way she wore it when she was living. They are two sides of the same coin. The leading and legal bodies of the family, now resting peacefully.

There is no one kneeling besides Yoongi to pay his respects. Not yet.

They wait for only a heartbeat before they descend.

He gets more than a few tearful hugs and reunions. Yoongi loses track of how many people drag him in for a hug or kiss his forehead, bending low to rub their noses against his knuckles as is tradition. Some of them look vaguely familiar, some of them look vaguely like him, round faces and small lips, hawklike eyes that glimmer with more familiarity and less fear. The aunties and the omega’s have their faces covered in dark veils. Red lipstick hidden behind gauzy silk.

“Cousin!” Someone calls above the others. Yoongi turns slow like it’s barely worth his effort to greet this person and yet he finds himself smiling when he sees who it is. The mask cracking.  

Jongho is less chubby than the last time that Yoongi saw him. Less of a little kid with the habit of following the older cousins around and more of a young man. A young alpha judging from the strong woodsy scent that clings to him. During their teenage years, he’d made a habit of trailing after Yoongi like a little duckling because Yoongi was the only one who didn’t tell him to get lost (or worse).

At least before he’d been sent away. It’s good to see him, to see a kind smile on his face, the warmth and curiosity in his brown eyes- lighter than the usual deep brown of the family.

“Your hair is so long!” is the first thing he says, but after some coughing behind him, and the appearance of his father, a stout well-groomed man with eyes that can never quite hold their viciousness, Jongho falls into a deep bow.

“The Choi family hopes that you’ve enjoyed your gifts, Beta-sshi.” Yoongi sets a hand on his shoulder, drawing him up. Jongho seems to remember himself, looking away, failing to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“Don’t you want to see how well your gift fits?” It’s too hard for Yoongi to resist indulging his young cousin. He reminds him so terribly of Jungkook. At the prodding Jongho prattles on, hands skimming up and down the sleeves and appreciating the fine silk of Yoongi’s suit. Going on about FIT and how he’s been promised a semester or two there, after things have calmed down.

After things have been decided.

Yoongi isn’t surprised that these tid bits are met with a glower from Choi senior. A constant shadow to their conversation. Fashion isn’t a major becoming of any would be leader- better business or international relations. Choi seniors glare is so disapproving that Yoongi almost want to snap at him.

Let the pup have his fun.

Yoongi likes him- but just like with all his family members Yoongi cannot trust Jongho on principle. But it’s hard not to want to know him. This cousin who was once a chubby haired youth is now a strong alpha, teenaged, barely 20. Yoongi congratulates him on presenting as an alpha (as is expected, condolences would have been offered if he presented as an omega. Yoongi hates it.)

Eyeing him up and down, Yoongi admits that they might have been rivals in another life. They’re close enough in age, but Jongho still wears the bright eyes of a child eager to please.

Jongho is not the eldest alpha in his family, but he is one of several elder siblings and cousins in the Choi family (the moniker he greeted Yoongi by was just that- a name to call him. They’re not related by any blood that Yoongi is aware of). Yoongi’s not surprised that Choi senior seems to have selected him to meet Yoongi first. He’s the Choi families obvious choice for Don. He’s by far the most measured of his siblings, the most controlled and the most intelligent.

Last time Yoongi saw the eldest Choi son, Geumjae was trying to rip his throat out. Yoongi has no idea if he’s still alive.

It’s clear Choi senior hasn’t forgotten this show of impropriety. Clapping Yoongi on the back so hard his knees start to buckle. “He’s scored in the upper percentile for college entrance exams, and he has excellent extra-carriculars. He did student government and student counsel at his private school and-” Yoongi cringes, but nods along. He can’t expect every family not to treat this funeral like a job interview even if it is a little grating.

And Yoongi is the first to admit that leading the family is a job that requires more than brute force.

Yoongi passes along his thanks and holds out his arms for them to see the fit. “My mother picked out the color, she-” his eyes flicker up to Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi sees a bit of hesitancy there.

Jongho’s father claps him on the back again and derails the conversation, “He’s a good alpha, always knows when to listen to his elders.” Yoongi resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the obvious ass kissing.

The Choi’s let him go but not before getting an official acceptance of the dinner invitation extended to him. Yoongi wades through the crowd, searching aimlessly. There are hundreds if not thousands of people packed tight to pay their respects. Reporters and camera’s too- because not all of the families’ businesses are illegitimate.

All members of the family have pinned roses to their lapels as a sign of respect so it’s easy to pick them out of the crowd. White for the omegas and red for the alphas. The omega youth who hands them out at the front desk eyes Yoongi upset, unsure which to give him, hand shaking as he flutters between white and red. 

“It’s fine really- I’ll just take a white one-”

“I’ve got you.”

A woman steps up to him from the crowd gathered, the only one brave enough to disturb his peace. Yoongi isn’t immediately able to place her Family name or her face. She plucks a red lily from a nearby bouquet and tucks it into his breast pocket. Smoothing out the fabric after she’s done. Fussing with it. The delicate flower drops rusty red pollen onto Yoongi’s suitcoat.

Alphas don’t fuss, but she is one- judging by her scent and the red rose pinned to her own suitcoat. Female alphas don’t always dress like men, but this one does. Her tapered slacks, charcoal suitcoat, and dark blouse ripple like water when she moves. She smiles up at him delicately. Her smile is well trained and gives nothing away. It is neither genuine nor fake. “We didn’t think you’d be coming until later.” 

“Neither did I.” Yoongi admits carefully. But why should he hide it. He doesn’t want to be here, and they all know it.

There is nothing in her eyes- nothing at all that tells Yoongi what kind of mask she might be wearing. She’s got long hair, silver, dyed from the roots that poke out from the perfect middle part. it doesn’t take Yoongi any time to place her scent- it’s so strong.

Peppermint- it almost has a numbing effect on his nostrils. An artificial edge that cuts the sweetness and makes it more alpha. It takes him second of searching her face before he recognizes the tuck of her chin. 

“Moon Byulyi.”

She smiles tensely, dropping into Korean out of formality. “It’s been a while Beta-sshi.”

Moonbyul is someone he remembers well. From a shared childhood spent running around in too tight tiny stuffy suit jackets at formal occasions like easter and Christmas. Playing underneath tables for hide and seek and tag. Moonbyul was one of the few pups that was brave enough to talk to him. That wasn’t cautioned against being his friend or overly encouraged to gain his favor by the power-hungry parents. Yoongi would never have called them friends back then- because you aren’t friends with people outside of your house- not without it being risky. But a certain kind of knowing respect hovers on the edge of her smile.

Even as a pup, he’d been infamous. In the cathedral, people whisper, pointing him out in the crowd to their companions. Red lips hidden behind velvet gloved hands. He’s allowed to cause a commotion- there is no one left to tell them off for their blatant disrespect of the dead. No one left to remind them of tradition.

Yoongi lets them stare.

Just like with Jongho, Moonbyul was sent away before presentation. Many families choose to send their children away from the mafia life after elementary school. Before their scents start to lean either sweet or musky. Before anything starts to hint at if they’ll be an alpha or omega.

Those formative years can be a little bit dicey, with everyone’s scent and hormones changing every few days. New instincts provoking fights and spats with anyone who comes too close. Presentation provides Improper and dangerous volatility in a family like theirs. It’s better to whisk the next generation away for a private and more dedicated education.

Alphas are taught to fight and kill and bleed; omega’s are taught to simper and preen and scheme. They’re educated just like the rest of the population, sure, but the family requires a more thorough sort of learning.

Yoongi hardly remembers when his older left. He only remembers when Geumjae had come back smelling like smoke and fire and rage.

Scents are as individual as a fingerprint. Omega’s and Alpha’s don’t get theirs until they go into their first heat or rut but Beta’s scents present immediately upon birth. The other sub genders smell uniform in a soft milky pup scent. A smell ingrained into people’s brains and instincts that nudges the impulse protect and provide and nourish.

Yoongi had started to smell like chocolate on the third day after he was born.

There are boarding schools and private little compounds that the family keeps where unpresented pups can have a more dedicated education away from the prying eyes. Yoongi hasn’t seen Moonbyul since just after she turned 13.an early age for presentation by any standard. Although the year’s stretch between them she’s still the same. The mischievous lilt to her words is subdued here. She looks more serious; she looks as tired and as anxious as they all feel.

 That much he can tell is not faked.

She should be more careful to hide her emotions. She’s a head of house after all.

They are no longer children chasing after brightly colored eggs and wishing for sweets. To show any weakness is dangerous for her and her pack. One of them hovers on the edge of her elbow, smaller and shorter but no less bright eyed than Moonbyul herself. She’s an omega from her garb, her dress is long, flowy, and black. Her hair is cut to her chin, atypical for an omega. She knows better than to speak here. Moonbyul stands almost infront of her, tall, nearly posturing.

She doesn’t need to bother, there is only one person in this room that Yoongi’s even a little bit afraid of.

“Have you seen my brother?” She makes a noise, glancing behind him.

Yoongi tries to turn before Geumjae can get too close, but he’s too late. 

There are crow’s feet beginning to pull at the corners of his eyes. That’s the first thing that Yoongi notices, and the fact that he’s armed despite given the clear orders not to be. The lines of his harness visible just under his well-tailored suit. He registers only that before the broad-shouldered man pulls him in and Yoongi’s nostrils fill to the brim with the scent of burning things. Not the smell of cooking or firewood- but the smell that buildings get when they burn, acrid and metallic.

Geumjae must be nearly 33 now, but the stressors and finer points of ageing seem to have spared him for now as he pulls back and gives Yoongi a beaming smile, bright eyes calculating. Aware that the rest of the family is casting glances at the two of them many more times than is socially acceptable.

His brother looks exactly like he did the last time Yoongi saw him, taller than Yoongi and meatier. Wide shoulders and a tapered waist that says alpha. But their faces could be identical if it wasn’t for the scar crossing his eye and his mouth perpetually twisted into something like a snarl. They look similar enough that they’ve been mistaken for twins before.

He pulls Yoongi close with a hard hand at his neck digging into his scent gland and Yoongi resists the urge to flinch. Geumjae forces them to embrace, the picture of brotherly affection and comfort as he presses Yoongi’s face into his shoulder. Mouth pressed to ear hidden in Yoongi’s hairline so that no one can hear what he has to say or read his lips.

There are no hello’s, no farce, just straight to business. The lily remains between them- crushed by the sudden hug. All beauty here is short lived.

“I hope you’re not planning to change anything Yoonie.” Geumjae says the childish nickname with a sickly-sweet lilt to it. “It’s been so long since we’ve all seen you that you’re practically an outsider. There’s a lot you don’t understand. You should let your older brother teach you how things work again.” 

Yoongi can’t pull away or else risk making a scene. No matter how much his burning scent is sticking in his nose and making him want to gag. Geumjae’s expensive suit reeks of rich cologne, at odds with his scent. Geumjae smells and acts like wildfires and burning houses; destructive and unpredictable.

Geumjae knows of Yoongi’s only weak spot. 

His arms around Yoongi’s body remain ridged and vicelike, hand threading through the back of his hair in a clutch that is much more intimate than is necessary. Geumjae has always been stronger than Yoongi- has always been the alpha. Yoongi pushes against his chest, but Geumjae holds firm.

“All this talk has me thinking- if you died, I guess we’d have to invite your little pack, right? The pictures I’ve seen of them look so delicate and unprepared. Your pack omega seems like the type I’d love to sink my teeth into.”

Yoongi’s blood goes cold, and he starts to push- visibly at Geumjae’s chest. Recoiling from his touch and from what he insinuates. He doesn’t stop there

“I wonder why you didn’t bring them. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were afraid of us getting our hands on them.” He pulls back, smiling. It’s not friendly- more of a bearing of teeth. Geumjae must have had implants put in because his canines seem sharper than should be normal.

“But luckily, I know we’ll never have to find out.”

These threats are not hollow. Yoongi knows better. Yoongi does his best to school his face into a somber frown. Nodding like Geumjae has just said some words of wisdom. He’s not really agreeing- all of this, every inch between their bodies and the lack thereof- is done for the presentation of it all.

His choice is the furthest thing from his mind. Every moment all he can feel is wrong wrong wrong. Wrong to be here- wrong to be away from the pack- has Jungkook had a seizure yet? Is Jin worrying after his unanswered text? What song is Hoseok listening to over the radio? How did Namjoon’s surgery go- the one that he was worried about and felt underprepared for. What about Tae and his book? How did it end. How how how? How can he keep his brother away from them?

The phone in his pocket burns. And he knows the texts from the pack will go unanswered. Yoongi will be too afraid to reply.

Yoongi casts a look at the ceiling. The rosette windows in the vaulted ceiling shine in all their colors, but they offer no word of God.

(Yoongi knows better. God only listens when you speak through sin.)

~-~

(5 Years ago, Yoongi and Seokjin)

The thing about working with someone is that you spend a lot of time together.  It’s kind of hard not to grow attached, kind of hard not to be friends.

Over the next three weeks before his birthday, Seokjin spends a total of 126 hours with Min Yoongi. He comes to learn that he likes the cinnamon coffee cake over the plain ones, that he likes vanilla latte’s over matcha- that he thinks it tastes like dirt.

They become friends quicker than Jin expected, quicker than he necessarily wants- seeing as Jin’s kind of shit at keeping them- and hasn’t made a single friend in the last 3 years that he hasn’t lost. What’s the point of picking up something only to lose it later?

Seokjin doesn’t want to be Yoongi’s friend, but it happens that way anyways.

Seokjin resists the urge to watch Yoongi, waiting for him to take a sip of coffee (black, americano- but with a secret spoonful of matcha, the color of it disguised by the extra dark roast) Seokjin waits, watching his prank play out in his peripheral vision. Tensing every time Yoongi gets even a little close to where it’s cooling. Yes, almost, there-

“Uhm? Excuse me?”

Seokjin almost flinches at the customer, tapping his hands on the countertop impatiently- but not impatiently enough. A businessman, alpha, pale gray suit baggy at the waits. A faint blush on his cheeks. “What can I get for you?”

“Your number would be good to start,”

“Uhm” Seokjin barely resists the urge to cringe and hide behind his notepad. He’s not on the market- but he’s not off it either. Seokjin does not respond, just waits until the uncomfortable silence festers long enough, for the alpha to just reply to his order.

Seokjin is very very picky. Picker than he should be maybe- as an omega of his standing.

Yoongi notices, bypassing His (sabotaged) coffee, polishing the chrome of one of the espresso machines glassy. He waits until the alpha is gone, the door to the coffee shop tinkling closed before he asks.

Yoongi is always doing that. Waiting until they’re alone to speak. Seokjin wonders if it’s a habit or a beta trait.

 “What’s with you today? Usually, you’d have a line or something.”

Seokjin’s mouth quirks beyond his control. “What was it that I said last week?”

“Treating omegas that way you do won’t make your father love you?”

“Your knot is not big enough to act like that.”

They double over into laughter, and the skim of Yoongi’s hand up his back as he passes behind to put in another tray of muffins (mass market, made from mixing oil and water into bags of grey brown mix) in the oven is so tender, so thought out that Seokjin almost melts.

“You should put more chocolate in them” he says, and Yoongi pauses, hums thoughtfully and reaches past him to get the chocolate chips, adding another quarter cup to the batter. Yoongi is always making the chocolate muffins- mostly because Seokjin is always eating them.

The café is full of the smell of melting chocolate, and it’s not just from the muffins. But from Yoongi too. Yoongi’s scent is so pleasant, Seokjin catches himself raising his nose to catch it on the air when the other isn’t looking.

“But seriously. You always have a reply, what’s up?” Yoongi doesn’t look at him when he says it, instead directing his attention to mixing in the chocolate chips into the batter. He’s not very good at it, gets a bit of glossy brown on the countertop. Seokjin doesn’t have it in himself to complain. Seokjin knows he’s trying to make Seokjin feel more comfortable, more open by not looking at him.

Any other person doing that would make Seokjin feel manipulated or backed into a corner. But it’s different with Yoongi.

The two of them linger there, looking out the wide windows. The rain that falls that casts the streetlights all drippy. The cloudy sky up above offers no shooting stars or wishes, not even the moon put there like a single burning wick of a candle. Nothing in the sky, no burning, no joy, only wet.

“Today’s my birthday.” Seokjin finally admits, voice soft and quiet. It won’t be his birthday for much longer, the clock already reads 11:32. They’ve got less than a half hour left. And Seokjin did not cry today- his only goal. Not presents or blowing out candles and love. None of it.

He’s tried of crying. Tired of being alone too.

“Fuck” Yoongi stops stirring the metal bowl, setting it down softly before he leans against the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me, would have gotten you something or some shit-”

Seokjin hums, stirring his coffee hard, turning the wooden rod through the crust of extra sugar at the bottom. Seokjin always likes things extra sweet and extra warm; he wonders how long it will take Yoongi to realize there’s a reason for that. That he’s trying to fill a family sized hole in himself that the wind whistles through. Like a ripped sail on a ship.

When Seokjin looks over Yoongi looks if not genuinely upset then a little devastated. It shocks Seokjin enough that he stands up a little straighter, color to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the stoplight outside as it goes from yellow to red.

The muffins ding, and they’re ready, piping hot, the chocolate all melty at the top like Seokjin likes. “Hang on I know they’ve got- here.”

Yoongi leans over, he’s got a lighter, and Seokjin isn’t sure what for. It’s white, has initials on it. There is a crappy pink birthday candle sticking out of the muffin. It’s too early to take the muffins out of the tray and it’s melting onto the countertop. But when Yoongi says, “Make a wish,” Seokjin closes his eyes and blows.

He’s not really sure what he wishes for, but when he opens his eyes, Yoongi is smiling.

They share half of it each, and Seokjin feels so warm he has to take off his sweater. Yoongi licks the chocolate from his fingers. Seokjin watches and looks away. Nervous.

They play Seokjin’s favorite music while they mop the floors, and Yoongi does his best impression of that one alpha rapper than everyone likes.

“You like seriously like music, right?” Seokjin says, sitting on the countertop and swinging his feet because there’s no one here and it’s almost 2 am. They pretty regularly only have one or two customers that come in mid-week. Why their boss insists on keeping the shop open and two of them there at this hour- Seokjin has no idea.  

“Yeah, I’ve got like, 6,000 songs on my phone.” Seokjin scoffs, endeared. Yoongi is exactly the kind of person to brag about something like that. Seokjin’s feet hit swish back and forth.

“You better not have given iTunes all that money.”

Yoongi grins, tipping an imaginary hat. “Nah- it’s a pirates life for me.” Yoongi continues to sweep at the floor while Seokjin watches. “You’re like, really bossy for an omega. Thought they were all supposed to be like, docile?” Yoongi moves onto mopping the entry way and Seokjin switches to the booth seat so that they don’t have to shout to keep talking.

Seokjin snorts. Instead of parrying Yoongi’s words, Seokjin settles into the booth, pulling his knees to his chest until he can feel the pleather through the hole in his shoe. “You go to school for it? The music?”

“No, I ugh-” Seokjin watches Yoongi brace himself for disappointment or judgment. “I didn’t go to college.”

Seokjin’s fingers stop their drumming. “Good, it’s a waste of time.” Betas don’t really need to go to college to be successful, the same way that alpha’s don’t need to dress or preen or maintain themselves to gain respect. Seokjin skirts by, doing the bare minimum for an omega. It would be different if he were female. If his reproductive organs had presented him as anything other than male at birth. Men are alphas until proven otherwise and women are omegas until they decide different. It’s only his rotten luck that his presentation came with a heat and not a rut.

“What you’d go for then?” Yoongi asks, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“Psychology.”

“Why don’t you do that then?”

Seokjin shrugs, “can’t get a job that pays more than this without my masters, can’t pay for my master’s without this job but-” It’s Seokjin’s turn to brace himself. “It’s so so expensive, and my student loans are already a lot-”

“Nah I get it; your family wouldn’t like help you or something? You seem like a good kid; do they know that?”

“I am older than you.” Seokjin scoffs, reminding him. “And besides, what family?”

They haven’t gotten to the dead parent’s thing yet, but they will one day. Yoongi looks up and stops his mopping. The water drips onto the dirty linoleum. Instead of contesting with Yoongi’s bereft look Seokjin replies quick. It’s still his birthday for another 10 or so minutes. And he’d rather not talk about his parents.

“Did your family like not approve of you doing music or did they want you to be a doctor or something?”

Beta’s usually become doctors, or CEO’s or managers or anything. Seokjin can already tell that their boss likes Yoongi more than him. There’s a sour lilt to his voice, a pout there. Seokjin bets Yoongi gets paid more than him.

That’s okay, Seokjin’s instincts tell him. He needs it to eat more- his legs are so skinny.

But instead of saying what Seokjin expects, Yoongi just looks back at him, his dark eyes mirroring his misery. He scoffs parroting Seokjin’s words back to him.

“What family?”

Seokjin is a lone omega, a dangerous thing to be in the city these days- or at least that’s what the news has him and everyone else believing. Enough omega’s go missing that it makes the news. Picked up off of street corners or otherwise, they just vanish. The only thing that keeps Seokjin from being one of them is luck and the fact that he’s taller than most omega’s and broad enough to pass for a scrawny alpha.

Yoongi turns away from their mutual grief, stilling when he see’s what’s outside.  

“It’s snowing.”

 It’s early for November but neither of them says it, they move, abandoning their posts for a second to go out and watch the gentle flakes flickering down.

“First snow!” Seokjin says, and Yoongi grins. The snow is brief, melts the second it hits the concrete. But it’s a good thing, because it means that neither Seokjin nor Yoongi has to walk home in the rain.

When they return inside, Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face. Seokjin laughs so hard that he has to clutch at his stomach.

It’s an even better birthday when they have to depart for their respective apartments for the day and Yoongi hands over his flannel and says that he won’t take no for an answer. At least he’s wearing a long sleeve unlike Seokjin. It settles Seokjin’s instincts so well that he sways. His fingers quickly making sweater paws on account of how long the sleeves are.

“Like this one a lot, whenever you wear it.” Yoongi’s hands linger on the flannel. Seokjin’s wrist. He does up the button. Seokjin lets him.

“You can keep it, as a birthday present.”

Seokjin huffs, shakes his head, “I said I like it when you wear it, giving it away defeats the purpose.”

Yoongi’s hands go tight in the fabric and then relax, and his voice takes on a husky quality. Breath billowing out in the cold. They’re standing close enough that all Seokjin can smell is chocolate.

“Then you can bring it back to me when you get tired of it.”

The first night shift ends and the second begins, Seokjin and Yoongi go their separate ways. Seokjin walks past the same alpha’s from the night before that and the night before that. And like usual Seokjin tenses, readying himself to be catcalled. His fingers tangling in the arms of Yoongi’s sweatshirt as he braces himself for it.

But it doesn’t come, it’s like the alphas take one whiff of Yoongi’s scent on the air and their eyes slide over Seokjin as he scurries past.

Seokjin pauses at the end of the block, at the edge where streetlight becomes shadow, and looks back.

~-~

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to put two and two together (no- not like that, although that takes predictably less time too).

The alphas Seokjin passes on his way home from the coffee shop never bother him as much when he’s wearing something of Yoongi’s. The beta’s scent clings to his clothing like an invisible shield- keeping Seokjin from harm. Seokjin mentions it offhand once and from then on Yoongi makes sure he’s got something, his gloves, his hat, his jacket, everything. Just so that Seokjin gets home safe.

It doesn’t mean anything at first, that Seokjin is under Yoongi’s protection- but after a few weeks that starts to mean a whole lot more.

Seokjin has never believed that betas are particularly special. He attributes most of societies reverence to just foolish mythos and childlike mystery. But even he has to admit that It’s almost spooky the way that the alpha’s unwanted attraction and attention slides over him like he’s slippery, like he’s a mirage, a specter- but only if he’s wearing Yoongi’s scent.

Seokjin always draws attention- for the way his shoulders swivel and the pretty omegan curve to his hips and face. He's pretty, he's always been pretty. He was glad of it as a teenager and in college. An apex predator for his beauty alone.

But all the prettiest flowers have poison hidden at the root.

That prettiness felt more like a threat the older he got, and now when he walks home from his closing shift at the café it’s always on the edge of his mind. Seokjin is lucky but plenty of omegas aren’t. He's been followed home before. He lives in the bad part of town. Yoongi does too- but living in a bad part of town means something different when you're an omega. 

They share things, like mittens and hats and button-down coats, not because they’re the same size but because Yoongi is…soft. Yoongi is fond of Seokjin, and he shows it in the way he talks, the way he’s always touching Seokjin on the elbow or the shoulders. They’re careful. And if Yoongi where an alpha- Seokjin would hate it. If Yoongi where anyone else- he’d hate it.  

Yoongi never mentions any friends or lovers, there are no other scents but his that cling to his clothing. After a while Seokjin doesn’t ask. It’s so not cool to ask after the affairs of a beta, you have to be nonchalant.

They go through most of November and the start of December like that, dancing around each other, each shift ends with one of Yoongi’s sweatshirts or coats or scarves folded there on the countertop, covered with coffee rings and crumbs from chocolate cupcakes- waiting for him.

Over time, Seokjin gets used to Yoongi's quirks. Like how he always makes Seokjin drink's with too much sugar and is always ducking back into the office at the coffee shop whenever the phone rings. So much so that Jin starts to associate the sound with his new co-worker. His new co-worker who makes him laugh and feel like he's 14 not 24. His new co-worker whose also his friend and asks Seokjin to come with him to see the tree lighting in the center of town. They pack in like sardines and go, see each other the next day and it’s not boring. Yoongi doesn’t get bored of Seokjin. He doesn’t.

He makes Jin feel like it's not too late for him just by looking at him and saying. "Smart kid like you, though you'd be out of this city by now." 

"I am older than you, you know." 

"Still a kid- you've got chubby cheeks." A pinch to them that has Jin’s face warming. A flush that could melt any spring.

With Yoongi’s scent on him, Jin isn't as much of a target for harassment. It irks him- that a beta is worth their respect but an omega isn’t. All it takes is just Yoongi's pheromones to settle the thugs and gang members he passes on street corners and make him invisible.

Seokjin wants to be invisible most of the time- mostly on social media which he keeps relatively blank. He's worried about what his old friends might think of his lack of social life, the lack of likes on his selfies that he always deletes after an hour anyways. He's scared of his aunts and uncles calling and asking how he's doing and has he found a job yet? Is he really applying himself as hard as he can? How could a cushy college in America not set him up for success? 

Yoongi makes Seokjin feel the opposite of invisible. Yoongi makes Seokjin feel... special in a way he’s always craved. Chosen. When he gives him his jacket, when he bumps their shoulders on the cold nights. Stands closer so that some of his warmth gets shared by Jin. "It's cold," he says, voice a low gravel. A true gentleman, his thick jean jacket held out.

"But you'll be cold on your walk home too." 

"Doesn't matter, I'd rather the warmth went to you." 

Yoongi gives him his flannel, his hat, his everything just so that Seokjin can feel a little bit safer on his walk home. How many layers of fabric and viscera separates Jin’s heart from Yoongi’s scent? How many?

And then Seokjin’s twice yearly heat hits, and he doesn’t see Yoongi for nearly 5 days.

He wakes up one morning in early December and it feels like someone’s holding him under warm water. An ache in his chest that’s so visceral he checks his ribs for wounds. But the wanting is there, ever present, a phantom limb.

Heats are just another vestigial trait left over from shapeshifting times. No one can shift anymore- but the more animal side like the scents and heats and secondary genders still remain. Seokjin usually doesn’t go into heat until the spring as is usual for most omegas. Something in his body must have confused Yoongi’s warmth for the change of the seasons.

Seokjin’s heats have always been brutal.  

A fever is pretty typical as far as heats go. He’s got some cramping along with the mess and honey sweetness between his legs that goes untended too and under enjoyed. Unlike the bone deep exhaustion that has him wanting to swath his body in soft blankets and nest the day away

And do little else but fuck and breed, but Seokjin’s so annoyed by that he hardly touches himself.

Breeding season is a fire that never ends. A particular sexual hunger that cannot be sated by Seokjin’s hands alone. Beyond the violent need for sexual attention, he finds himself reaching out for hands that aren’t there, nosing at his sheets for a scent he finds in mittens and an old flannel. His dreams are a tangle of slick, pleasure, chocolate muffins and big hands.

On the second day he thinks to check his phone and finds a text from an unknown number.

Unknown (12:28): Please make sure you eat something.

A pause then, where sweat beads on Seokjin’s forehead and he whimpers out through the next wave of wanting. Omega cock hard and straining against the nest, loose with Yoongi’s things dotted along the barrier. Smelling like chocolate.

Seokjin bites them just to taste, blunt omega teeth sinking into the fabric. Hungry and Helpless.

Unknown (12:28): Let me know if you need anything.

It’s too much to offer for strangers and too much to offer for just friends. Seokjin resists the urge to call and talk to him, but just barely. Probably sparing himself from some helpless begging and friendship ending embarrassment.

It feels like someone’s scraping out the inside of his uterus with rusty tongs. Going through a heat without a partner feels like being touch starved only worse- like he actually is wasting away because there isn’t anyone holding him. If people could starve from lack of love Seokjin would. His heat is mistimed, too early, most of the time Jin takes a suppressant to make sure it doesn’t come.

Jin tries to ignore what it means at first. Unable to meet Yoongi’s gaze when he sees him after. How do you explain to a beta that being around them, feeling safe with them, was enough to make your heat come early? It doesn’t help that he’s unable to return his clothes like usual- due to the slick-soaked state they'd been in. Much to his pink-cheeked shame.

Jin’s a little thinner, a little gaunter because eating during a heat is always a little hard- when the wanting strikes so completely that other needs are pushed out. Yoongi cooks him up a whole tray of chocolate muffins and makes him sit through the whole of his shift on his first day back. Sets his jacket over Jin’s shoulders when he nods off in one of the booths around midnight and lets him sleep until a half hour before their manager is supposed to show up.

Seokjin is already awake when he comes close. Jin has his eyes closed; head tipped against the vinyl back of one of the booth seats. Resting his eyes. “No one’s taken care of me in a long time you know.” When his eyelashes flutter open, Yoongi is looking at him. There’s no one in the coffee shop on account of how early it is, the clock in the corner is red, flashes that it’s close to three am.

“No one’s looked after me in a long time either.”

Seokjin’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. “I could do it.”

Yoongi just huffs and hands him a cup of coffee. It’s made just the way that Seokjin likes it. Jin takes a sip of it and hums, licking his lips. Yoongi watches. Eyes flickering down and then to Seokjin’s eyes.  

“We’ll see about that.” 

And then Seokjin’s basement apartment floods and half his stuff gets ruined and Yoongi offers his couch and shit- the rest is basically history.

Christmas passes and they cut off a branch from a tree at the park and stick it in the only empty corner of the apartment, hanging pilfered and stolen ornaments from the shop on the branches. And they get each other necessities like socks and a new pair of shoes for Jin with their limited extra funds.

But things are easier now that there’s just one apartment. And they won’t have to stress for long because both of them get raises before valentine’s day. Yoongi will hardly let Seokjin sleep on the couch for weeks at a time and his bed was big enough for the two of them. 

It was winter they could save on heating if they just got a little closer. A little snuggling never hurts anyone right? Seokjin doesn't need to ask if Yoongi's lonely- if he's got someone. Yoongi defies what Seokjin knows of most betas; usually elusive and unwieldy, uncommitted and cold. If Omegas are like moon's and alphas are like sun's then beta's are like comets, coming into orbit every now and then. 

But Yoongi is not a cold icy rock that throws Seokjin the barest hint of affection. On the contrary, Yoongi's always so warm. 

“Last snow.” Yoongi says, standing outside of the coffee shop wearing Seokjin’s sweater- so big on him that it falls to his mid-thigh. Yoongi’s legs aren’t so skinny anymore. His kiss tastes like the cold, cold lips and warm big hands, and Seokjin wonders how he ever worried. How fate ever let him wonder when there was this waiting for him.

There are 6 other people waiting for Seokjin, he just has to be patient.

There is something about a pair of arms that you know are meant to hold you and keep you safe. Something unnamable that blocks out all reason and fear and leaves only hope. Seokjin feels it the second he sinks into Yoongi’s strong arms and feels that heat, the heat of belonging. Maybe it’s strange that he’s older. Maybe it’s strange that Seokjin wants him and not the countless other knot-head alphas society says an omega should end up with. Beta’s and omega’s are not supposed to be enough for each other.

By the time he’s saved enough for a deposit for a new apartment Seokjin never wants to leave and Yoongi would never make him. Now Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s flannels not out of pure safety but because he likes having the beta’s scent close. It's like sea salt and chocolate. It conjures up warm nights around a bonfire at the beach with s’mores.

They do that on the weekends, a low-cost date night because they can’t afford anything better but it’s better than any fancy dinner at Nobu or the steakhouse. Just because it’s them. And Seokjin makes Yoongi perfect little sandwiches of love and marshmallow, and Jin eats only the chocolate out of them cuz really- that’s his favorite part.

They’re a pack even if it’s just the two of them. Seokjin tells himself he can be happy with just this even though every day on his walk home he wonders if Yoongi will still be at their apartment, always worried that today is the day that Yoongi’s just- gone. It makes his face when he opens the door, the shy smile and the open arms- that much more delicious to behold.   

There are horror stories of that happening everywhere- My beta was fine until he wasn't. My beta left our pack on a random afternoon- said he had a job lined up across the country. I came home and my beta had another alpha in our bed, and I couldn't even be angry- that's just how betas are after all. Do you ever think it's fucked up? How they don't have to be faithful to one pack.

You can't be angry. Betas are biologically designed that way. Just be happy you're in his roster.

Beta's always stray. Seokjin knows that and accepts it as a fact before Yoongi's even officially his boyfriend. It's not like Seokjin's not allowed to date other people either, it's socially acceptable for an omega- with a beta or not- to look for an alpha. But Seokjin doesn't date. He doesn't date anyone once he and Yoongi become a pack. It would feel weird, to bring someone into their orbit. 

It doesn’t escape him that Yoongi puts their next apartment in Seokjin’s name the first time they decide to move- just in case he needs it. Yoongi wouldn’t be so unkind as to leave Seokjin without making sure he has a roof over his head. Seokjin looks for the hints of others. Other scents on Yoongi's clothes, and any suspicious absence. But there's nothing, nothing that hints that Yoongi's got someone else.  

Omega's are biologically inclined to seek out alpha's. Especially omega's in their prime like Seokjin. Seokjin never thought he’d be the one to change first, to want more first.

But then he meets Namjoon in a Laundromat of all places. (Really?Who meets their soulmate in a fucking laundromat?)

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Ahhh the little pre-section in this chapter. Definitely one of the ones that I thought about cutting out of the story especially because it has so many like- references to Namjoon and he isn’t a character we’ve been introduced too yet.

- I just realized that I use the word ‘court’ to try and describe what the Choi family was trying to do to Yoongi. And you know that’s not exactly what they were trying to do to him like- they where certainly not trying to entice him to be a part of their pack- but it’s close enough!

- It’s important to me that you know the specific smell I’m referring to, the scent Geumjae has is the smell that housefires have. I saw my grandparents’ house burn down to the ground once, fire smells different when it’s memories that’s burning.

- Originally when I was first writing bily- I just looked up the name of Yoongi’s brother and was like- ‘woo there we go’ and thought nothing of it but going forward with this version I want to be clear that I think of him as more of August d- this version of Geumjae is identical to Yoongi besides the scar! If it were ever made into a movie I think Yoongi and Geumjae should be played by the same actor and edited parent trap style.

- (SPOILER) you’ll notice at the very end of Yoongi’s section where he’s wondering what the pack is doing at that moment- he doesn’t mention or wonder about jimin. That is because Jimin is actually directly above him in the cathedral with a gun trained on Geumjae but! You’d never know that unless you had already finished the story! Just a little tidbit that only makes sense if you look at everything closely.

- Did you notice the hyyh reference? Yoongi’s lighter?

- I just realized that Yoongi parrots Seokjin’s words when he’s talking to the m/c from this chapter to chapter 12 the “I could do it” I could love you, I could be your person! Ah the beauty of unintentional parallels (my brain is like a record skipping. The same wishes and dreams on repeat where I write out the same tenderness again and again, hoping that something will stick, like flesh made flame, like sugar made sweet and friendship bracelet made bond).

[loullaby]

me again: it also comes off just mean. like he goes out of his way to signal to everybody that he is not fond of Buck/Tommy or Lou at all. And I remember how, as you said, everybody cut Oliver a lot of slack for not posting, liking or talking about anything Tommy or Lou related and some even accused people of being toxic Buddie shippers who just want to cause discourse but just...no. He literally posted pictures of himself on set, in scenes he had with Lou without Lou in them (i.e. coffee date, funeral scene) and then he claims "there are pictures of everyone".

And these post episode interviews should leave no doubt. He says outright he wanted Tim to make Buck single again and with it Tommy/Lou out of the show. Maybe he hopes for a more famous LI now that they are on ABC I don´t know at this point. I just think Lou deserves better, he kept it classy throughout the hate, the death threats and a co-star who clearly did not want that storyline. So wherever we see him next I hope he´ll feel more welcomed. I for one am not looking for a season 9 of 911. I was bored before, only got back because of and with him gone, there really is no need to watch anymore.

Sorry for venting so much. There is just nobody else I could talk about it in RL

first of all, you can vent all you want. if you wanna dm me, i'm always open.

unless lou was secretly an asshole to oliver and oliver only, i really don't get his behavior at all. everyone else had nothing but good things to say about him. even oliver and lou talked about how well lou and ryan got along, so what's the deal? lou was classy even when he was clearly heartbroken. he made sure to include how much he appreciated oliver and tim, even though they clearly didn't appreciate him back.

they got the perfect LI for buck: first responder, connections to the 118, made him a priority. there was literally nothing wrong with tommy. he solved all their problems.

why break them up out of nowhere? they could've handled that so much better, made a plan that respected the characters and the actors, but all we got was biphobia. and for what? to set up for buddie sooner? something ryan made abundantly clear he doesn't want?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Peter comforting Tony's daughter at the funerals please I need this

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

No one who was present will ever forget the horrific scream that came from you when Pepper told you the tragic news: your father, Tony Stark, was dead.

You hadn’t been able to say goodbye to him. He had already taken his last breath when you arrived on the scene. All you were able to do was crumble by his side and cry all the tears in your body until someone forcefully took you away.

A few sleepless nights later, you stood by Pepper and Morgan on the wooden deck, watching the wreath floating adrift on the water. Proof that Tony Stark has a heart, it reads.

Beside you, Morgan didn't seem to understand what was going on, why everyone was dressed in black and watching an arrangement of flowers float away. Mostly, she didn’t understand why her dad was not there. It was sad to see.

Happy was right behind you, followed by Rhodey and Steve, then May and Peter. Peter. He was holding his tears, pained from losing his mentor.

When the wreath was no longer in sight, people slowly dissipated, heading back inside the Stark residence. You stayed, unable to move your feet, your eyes were glued on the water before you. Why did you leave me? Why did you sacrifice yourself?

You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you as Peter approached. You and him hadn’t spoken since the last battle.

He cleared his throat. ‘’Hi. I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but I’m sorry for your loss, Y/N.’’ You didn’t turn around, but Peter knew you were listening. ‘’Your dad was an admirable person. I’m not talking about his sacrifice. He was— He’s been an excellent mentor to me. And, in a way, a great father figure in my life.’’ Peter breathed in. He was about to tell you something he hadn’t told anyone. Not even his best friend Ned, who he always tells everything to. ‘’I was with him when he died. He told me—'' Peter stopped himself, feeling choked by the emotions in his throat.

When you arrived on the scene, you didn’t acknowledge Peter or anyone else around. Your eyes were focused on your father laying on the ground, unalive.

''Want to know what he told me?’’ Peter continued, not waiting for your answer. ‘’He…he said to go to you and feel the feelings he once forbid us to have.''

After a lot of deep thinking, Tony had come to the realization that forbidding your relationship had been wrong of him. He didn’t like it, but Peter was a good guy. He was kind, caring, honorable and very protective of the ones he loved. If there was anyone Tony could trust to take good care of his daughter, it was Peter.

Slowly, your eyes traveled to Peter. They welled with tears again, but this time Peter was there to wrap his arms around you, pull you against him and provide you comfort. You buried your face in his chest, staining — and ruining — his shirt with your mascara-tears, but it was the last of his worries.

Your slim fingers grabbed his white button up, clutching at it as you cried.

Your father’s words meant so much to you — you and Peter. You remembered the look of rage on his face when he caught you kissing in the lobby. It had just been a simple kiss goodbye, but Tony reacted like he had caught you doing something compromising in bed. He had yelled at Peter and banned him from the tower for weeks with a threat of kicking him out of the Avengers if he were to kiss you again.

Like any angsty teenager, you told him you hated him and blasted Taylor Swift’s Love Story in your bedroom.

You never thought he would change his mind about Peter, but Tony Stark was a surprising man.

Peter kissed the top of your head, holding you tight. 

—

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[aspen-in-the-forest]

Ahsoka Tano is six years old and she has the most scars out of everyone in her class.

She shows them off proudly when people ask. The one on her knee is from climbing the trees in the temple gardens, she says. A thin white line wraps around her forearm from a mistake in saber training. Various scrapes and cuts cover her hands, and she rolls up the sleeves of her robes to show them off. They are badges of honor.

At ten years old, she is placed in the advanced saber classes with the older students. She meets a girl named Barriss Offee, the padawan of a high Master of the Jedi Counsel. Barriss is everything Ahsoka would expect her to be. She is calm, yet stern, and a master of soresu. She is the ideal padawan, a role model for the younglings that look up to her. She is everything Ahsoka wants to be.

Ahsoka is fourteen when the war breaks out.. 212 Jedi fight in the arena on Geonosis, fighting and dying for their republic. Ahsoka attends the funerals, as do all the other padawans. She watches the pyres bearing the crest of the Jedi order burn as the bodies return to the force from which they came. She scans the crowd until she finds Barriss, one of the 30 survivors of the massacre. She has her head down, firelight glinting off of the tear tracks on her cheeks.

A month later Ahsoka is sent out, apprenticed to the newly knighted Anakin Skywalker. She wasn’t stupid. She had heard all the rumors: that Skywalker was the chosen one, that he had joined the temple at the time he became a padawan, that he would save the order from darkness, and that Anakin Skywalker would end the war. She adjusted her saber on her belt as the gunship took her down to Christophsis. She cooly walked down the ramp and introduced herself.

Anakin Skywalker was… underwhelming.

He didn’t command her to silence with his voice, or stand proud at attention. He slouched, and he whined often. If this is the Hero Without Fear, Ahsoka thinks, then he will need all the help I can give him.

Ahsoka is in battle the day she turns fifteen. They are pushing the separatists back toward the northern end of the city on an occupied planet in the outer rim. Ahsoka slashes and cuts, ducking under droids; weaving in and out of the fray. Her free arm drifts far from her body, covered in bandages from all the times she has forgotten to cover it. At the end of the day, she receives a gift: materials for a new lightsaber and a promised trip to Ilum.

She adapts to her new lightsaber quickly, like a limb she was always missing. Soon, she is spinning and slashing so quickly that it is impossible for the untrained eye to tell limb from saber. She throws herself into battle with all the ferocity of the akul whose teeth now decorate her headdress. It is a mark of honor, she reminds herself, and preens with pride.

Ahsoka Tano is sixteen years old and she has the most scars out of everyone in her class. She no longer remembers the now faded scar on her knee from climbing in the temple garden. She can’t tell you where her new scars come from either. On rare occasions between battles, she returns to the temple to study. Her classmates stare at her; revere her. She is the padawan of the Hero Without Fear, she has fought beside the great Jedi masters, and she can beat any one of her classmates in a fight.

They notice she’s changed. Where she was once unsure, there is now cool confidence in herself and her comrades. She no longer boasts or shows off to her classmates. She is extraordinarily kind to the younger padawans, who all look up to her.

She still drums her fingers on her desk, looking for all the world as she would rather be doing more important things than sitting in a classroom. She still spaces out when others are talking to her, but everyone has noticed the way she is quick to draw her sabers, always sitting on the edge of her seat, always looking past her classmates as if searching the horizon for threats. Yes, Ahsoka Tano has changed.

She is still sixteen when she thinks she loses everything.

She is seventeen when she does.

Ahsoka Tano is eighteen years old and she stands vigil for a home she will never be able to return to.

[deadsnothere]

End of the barrel

Synopsis - Instead of Lockwood and the end of Fairfax's gun it's Alias?

Masterlist

WARNINGS! - Involves threats with a gun, talk of experimenting on people, and death of a family member.

Request - No! BUT PLEASE REQUEST!!!

Word Count - 2k

Speak Ali! - I started writing this two weeks ago finished it at an craft fair for my aunt. I'm dying i'm so exhausted.

I, Alias Kipps, am not scared of death.

I've been surrounded by it since I was young, I've been to over 20 funeral’s in the 17 years of my life. I've seen and witnessed the most terrifying deaths from touching sources as someone else's test subject.

so when Fairfax held a gun out, with me at the end of the barrel, I could say I almost felt free.

This situation was interesting to say the least, Lockwood was hiding behind a table along with Lucy, while George was hidden behind a chair. Hopefully, None of them had been seen when Fairfax himself caught me. “You know it's dangerous to be “alone” in a house like this, Alias, But to be fair in this house you're never alone, are you?” His assistant stood tall beside him. “You! You broke into our house to get the ring!-” we’d just figured that out not long ago. “And by the way bitch- Get better perfume, with a job with a man like that, I know you can afford the good scents-”

All in one sudden moment, Fairfax had shot a gun he pulled from his back pocket. “Woah buddy be careful with that thing you might just get hurt-” I chuckled as he pointed it at me, “Where is the ring Kipps?” I put my hands behind my back, smiling at him. “Wow, last names? how formal for a man I've known my entire life.” He laughed right back at me. “I still remember how sad you were at my wife’s funeral…to bad I killed her.” On the inside my pulse was beating, my heart was going miles in seconds but not because a gun walked with me as I paced, but because I could see Lucy holding Lockwood back in the corner of my eye.

“Really? You cried with us and everything! shocking honestly.” Well now I see why he was in show business. “Ya know John we’re not too different. I'm about to be in a musical as a “bad girl” and you're going to be in jail with your name in the paper writing you, rightfully, as the bad guy!” I spoke enthusiastically, he rolled his eyes and scoffed at me. “Oh please, Kid we both know you don't wanna die so just give me the damn ring!” I raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have the ring?” He laughed right back at me. “No one is stupid enough to leave something at home after someone has attempted to steal it already, so hand me the ring kid. Or I will shoot, and I'd hate to shoot my test subject.”

I laughed along with him. “See John you have almost everything right up until one little underestimation.” I let a smile twist onto my face again. “What is that, little Alias?” That nickname made me want to hurl, but I couldn't show it. He always called me that nickname after he would experiment on me. Put me in rooms with type 2’s and 3’s to see if I could survive, he went too far one day, and it all happened because I was selfish and scared of death.

I walked towards him, slowly. Taking my rapier out of its sheath and flinging it in the direction of George watching it hit the chair sticking inside of it, George hopefully a-ok on the other side. The closer I got the more nervous you could visibly see Fairfax get, But it all had to be an act. I stopped once The gun touched my forehead. “I'm not scared of death.”

He cocked the gun, “bye bye, Little Ali.” I turned around facing the other members of the agency, a bright smile on my face, as I could feel the shake of him pulling the trigger. The plan here was to flip around before he could pull it and unarm him, but it never happened. “HEY FAIRFAX-” Well that plan went out the window…

Lucy shot up, She was the one who had the locket with the ring inside it, I know she did because she slept with it on at night and dropped it, (And I gave it to her) I already knew what it was of course, i'm the one who designed the locket, and put the ring in there. “Lucy, let me handle it!-” I’m sure if any of us were thinking straight, we would’ve been freaking out but I felt great!

“You want the ring?- Take your damn ring.” she threw down the locket and watched it crack open as it slammed onto the floor, the ghost of Annabel screaming out.

I wish I could remember the rest but…all I can remember is the feeling of someone's hands on my head after I fainted. The weight of the explosion finally kicking in.

–

“Alias!- Alias we need you to sign this?!- Alias wake up.” I don't remember much from this either, Mostly the feeling of the cold van on my body, except for my head it was laid on Lockwood’s lap. I signed some papers with hopefully my signature, and immediately went back to sleep.

–

When I woke up again, I wasn't sure what had happened. I was incredibly confused and had a huge headache. The sunlight was beaming down on me in- LOCKWOODS CLOTHES- Wait wait wait- Now that I got a proper look around the room I realized, I was in Lockwoods room.

“So you finally woke up?” The door opened to a tall man standing in the door way, Anthony. I nodded with his words sitting up in the bed. “Yeah…so- What happened exactly?” he shook his head at me, almost like he couldn't believe me. “Alias, I almost watched you get shot in the head. Can you remember that..?” I went quiet playing with my hands. “I-I’m sorry. it's my fault I know..and I should've told you guys I knew him before- just please…anthony, don't run away now.” I sound pathetic, but words were slipping out of my mouth like water glides with sand.

“What?” He was confused, you could tell by his facial expressions and his hand movements. He always played with the seam of his pocket when he was nervous. “Don't leave me please.” It was quiet coming out of my mouth, but the words spoke so much more. “Alias why would-” I cut him off. “Please anthony. Just say it- Say you won't leave me.” He finally got close enough to stand beside me. With a closer look I could see how distressed he looked, Tousled hair, eyebags deeper than a soup pot, and oil stained casual clothes on. (my fault)

I grabbed his hand and put it to my heart. “I need to know if I tell you why, If I tell you what happened with Fairfax as a child. You won’t leave me.” It's happened before, my last lover. Anthony looked at me with pure feeling in his tears eyes, which I can't tell but it was there. “I promise you Alias, I will not leave you. I will sit here and listen to your story and I won't pity you.” I can't say I'm shocked, I think I’d be more shocked if he didn't say it. “I’d sit down..and this is your own bed, so come on-” I patted the spot beside me, letting him sit down and get comfortable, his hand immediately moved to my waist to give us both some comfort.

“When I was young, my parents and Fairfax had a deal, if I gave up myself to use as a test subject I would be someone with one of the best touch abilities in years.” Which obviously didn't work well. I leaned onto Anthony, his arms were hesitant to pull me closer but they did.

“He would put me in this ghost room, where they’d slide a source in and uncover it after it was secure in the room. I have so many cuts and bruises from that room,” When around the house I normally wore long sleeved shirts or jackets to cover up my arms, no one asked questions so I never told. There were many scars on my arms. Big, small, wide, thin. And a long one that went down both of my arms and across my chest. Anthony's hands traced the scars like they were art on canvas.

“Four years of pain and torture…but when I turned 10, He put a type three in there with me, it was a normal experience, at first I’d scream and cry but soon I’d just finish the job. What they failed to tell me was they’d also be adding my sister to the experiment-” Anthony wanted to throw up the second I said it, He looked like he did at least. And when he looked at up at the ceiling I could tell he was trying not to cry., but it wasn't out of pity, it was Sympathy.

“She was pushed into the room and I did what I normally did hiding behind the bed, but she wasn't scared. She was too young to be scared.” We both wanted to throw up now. “I was too scared to help her because she was too reckless. I was terrified of death and because of that, she ended up where I was scared I would-” He drew his arm around my shoulder putting his mouth to my temple softly. “-She died, Anthony. And I could've prevented it because I was supposed to protect her, I was her big sister-” We were close, she always said it was stupid of mom and dad to hurt me like they had. To make her watch, She was right, she was always right. “meant to be, forever and always.”

“Are they going to hurt you Ali?” Lainey was holding onto my dress for the life of her. Scared of the man standing in front of me, shaking my parents hand. “No Lainey, they don't hurt me.” I knew she didn't believe me but I had to keep it up. “Then why are you crying?” I tried my best to laugh it off. “Because I'm just so happy it's me and not you, Lain.” She stood up tall, finally letting her grip go on my dress. “Alias, are you always gonna be able to protect me?” … “Always and forever Lainey.”

“She meant the world to me.” Neither of us spoke for a minute. It was a minute exactly, I counted. “That's why I'm not afraid of death.” It was a simple statement that made Anthony flinch softly. “And maybe when I saw Fairfax pull out that gun I wasn't scared, because me and Lainey would be dying to the same hands.” Anthony finally looked me in the eyes, We we're holding eye contact for second. A tear prickled down my face, I didn't even realize I was crying.

“I love you Ant.” He didn't say anything until I went to stand up. In one quick motion he stood up and grabbed my hand. “I love you to Ali. I've been in love with you long before you moved in with me, I was in love with you when we were kids.” He looked almost relieved. “I've loved you since I moved in. You said I always had a spot in your bed if i couldn't sleep and I think right then I wanted to pass out-” …We both started to laugh. “Ali..can I kiss you?”

“Of course Ant-” We got close quick, my hands were on his shoulders, his are on my face. We both closed our eyes it was magica- “Oh i'm so sorry!-” Our noses bumped eachother, us both bursting out in laughter. “Wanna try that again?” I nodded back, still giggling. This time we succeeded our faces slotted together perfectly, our hands played together the tips of our fingers played together, and so did our lips. Now this was magical, absolutely magical.

“...wow-” I started to giggle again. “Wow?” He questioned. “Yeah wow- that was amazing.” He laughed at me. “Better than our first kiss?-” “That was not a kiss!” when we were kids we accidentally fell into eachother bonking our heads together and making us kiss. Anthony said that was his first kiss, I said it didn't count.

“I kinda want some tea?”...“We should make some tea!” I was grinning lazily, almost as if I was high. “Making some tea with my boyfriend…i'm so cool.” Anthony raised his eyebrow. “Boyfriend?” I nodded. “You have no choice! Love confession = boyfriend!” we were giggling at each other, He never disagreed so as I see it, he's my boyfriend. We finally walked out of the room to make ourselfs some tea.

I'm dying :D Pls request more guys, I need motivation 🫶🏼

[twistedtummies2]

Year of the Bat - Number 13

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “Without Batman, crime has no punchline.” Number 13 is…The Man Who Killed Batman.

In contrast to our previous pick, “Appointment in Crime Alley,” this is one of the most comedic and quirky episodes of the entire series. It almost feels like a dark comedy you’d see in the 80s, more than anything else, and that’s part of what makes it so great! The plot revolves around a wannabe gangster called “Sid the Squid,” voiced by the marvelous Matt Frewer, of all people. The story begins with Sid going to his employer, crime boss Rupert Thorne, seeking help. When Thorne asks to know what’s going on, Sid begins to elaborate on his story, and most of the remaining episode plays out in flashback.

It's revealed that Sid was suckered into helping some of Thorne’s thugs with a scheme, the idea being the shrimpy little buffoon would distract Batman while the other goons got away. However, this plan works too well, and Batman is seemingly accidentally killed while trying to capture Sid. The runt of the underworld suddenly becomes hailed as a king of crime, but he soon finds his new reputation is more of a curse than a blessing. Things escalate to the point where the Joker himself seeks Sid out, hoping to find out if it’s true that the little weasel has destroyed the Dark Knight. This is where things get interesting, and it’s why the episode is so greatly remembered: when the Joker finds out Batman might be dead, he first tries to prove that he isn’t by staging a robbery…and when he starts to realize Batman may truly be gone…he’s DEPRESSED. The Joker becomes crestfallen, unable to finish the job, genuinely saddened and hurt by the realization that not only has his nemesis apparently kicked the bucket, but that he wasn’t the one who did it! He throws a mock funeral for the Caped Crusader – accompanied by probably the greatest eulogy in fiction, and Harley Quinn playing “Amazing Grace” on a kazoo…no comment – and then tries to kill Sid by dropping him in a coffin into a vat of acidic chemicals, which may or may not be the same ones that turned the Clown Prince into what he is today. (That part is ambiguous.) All this stuff with the Joker is classic, and everyone talks about it; it’s equal parts dark, funny, and surprisingly sorrowful, making for one of the Harlequin of Hate’s greatest scenes in the entire franchise. Indeed, Mark Hamill – the voice of the Joker – has gone on record more than once saying this was one of his favorite episodes, and that Joker’s most famous quote from the story (our episode quote of the day) has always been his favorite line.

As great as the stuff with the Joker is, it’s far from all that makes this episode good! I won’t go into detail on how Sid escapes the Joker, and how the story ends, but suffice it to say, obviously, Batman isn’t ACTUALLY dead. In fact, he reveals he’s been trailing Sid basically all this time, hoping and waiting for the opportune moment to strike at Thorne in the process. (Which honestly makes the stuff with the Joker even funnier, when you realize Bruce was literally trolling the Ace of Knaves behind the scenes. Glorious.) Sid, himself, is actually a big part of what makes the story so much fun: he reminds me a lot of characters like Smee from “Peter Pan” or Kronk from “The Emperor’s New Groove.” In terms of comics, he also reminds me a lot of my preferred versions of Killer Moth: Sid is basically a fanboy of criminals, who wants the prestige and power famous crooks get. However, he’s way too dumb, way too clumsy, and way too softhearted to be any real threat or make a name for himself. This makes the way things end ironic and surprisingly heartwarming, and it keeps him from being an unlikeable or annoying character, because we realize he’s in WAY over his head, and it only gets worse and worse as the story goes on. We don’t exactly want Sid to win, but we don’t want him to suffer, either. He’s another case of an unusual protagonist, and one of the best examples the show ever gave us. Whether you love the story for him, the Joker, or even other reasons, there’s plenty that makes this episode a true classic.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 12! Hint: “Life used to be so placid! Won’t you PLEASE put down that acid?! And Say That We’re Sweethearts Again!”

[groenendaelfic]

Young Royals Snippet #5

Convincing people that the monarchy had to be abolished was a lot harder than it should be.

Nowadays people simply no longer saw it as a threat.

At best they rolled their eyes and said, "So what? It's not just the monarchy causing class division and inequality. They don't have any political power, not like that one CEO, you know the one who—"

Most merely shrugged and didn't care, or they pretended not to, while secretly or not so secretly romanticizing the royal family and all their hanger-ons, speculating about their love lives for entertainment, like celebrities, but ones which had to be addressed by a deferential title and who received millions each year to dress pretty and shake hands, their privilege a matter of pride and tradition, a deserved compensation for representing their country on the world stage.

And oh look, isn't the Crown Prince handsome? Don't you just have to feel for him after how sad he looked at his brother's funeral almost a decade ago? How time flies by, the poor dear, so handsome and strong despite his grief, all grown up now, but well, you are probably too young to remember how cute he was as a toddler when he ...

It was infuriating.

It didn’t matter that the monarchy had no more power on paper, was entirely useless in theory, because when the Crown Prince visited an animal sanctuary journalists and random people alike suddenly paid attention to the cause, had an opinion and cared, acting as if the concept of such a thing was entirely new to them, as if they couldn’t conceptualize the importance of animal welfare without the heir to centuries of injustice and exploitation showing up for a minute to shake hands and cuddle a puppy, cameras of course always ready to capture every second and to make the visit seem much longer than it actually had been.

The fact that said Crown Prince looked cute cuddling puppies was entirely beside the point.

Or rather it wasn’t, because that was intentional as well, was another way for the establishment to romanticize the monarchy, to make it seem benign and harmless, and Simon had no doubt that countless teenage girls were right at this moment saving the pictures of the puppy cuddling prince on their phones, dreaming of being his future princess and to one day be cuddled by the privileged waste of taxes in turn, not spending a second caring about the starvation and death his palaces were built upon, about the countless other animals the Crown Prince hadn’t cuddled, nor about the puppy which had most certainly gotten dozens of adoption requests the moment the pictures were posted, completely ignoring the fact that that wasn’t what animal sanctuaries were for, that they weren’t shelters eager to find a forever home for their charges, that this wasn't even a dog sanctuary, that the puppy was just a prop, one which was safer and less divisive than having the heir to the throne pet the actual wildlife there, and it made Simon so angry, because all of that shouldn’t be necessary.

People shouldn’t require pampered mascots to highlight worthy causes, especially not when the only reason said mascots did anything worthwhile was to distract from their own scandals and shady dealings. And anyway, what about all the other causes which didn’t come with a charming photo opportunity or glitzy galas?

Simon hated the monarchy, and the fact that its currently most popular face was objectively aesthetically pleasing and constantly surrounded by an alluring air of melancholy didn’t change that one bit.

Still, know your enemy, or so the saying went, and Simon very much understood the reasons for that, pressing save on the picture he was never going to look at again, because being hot did not magically make one a good person, nor did it make profiteering off of inherited wealth and inequality any less inexcusable, and really, fuck the monarchy, fuck it very much.

and then 30k later wilmon have angry sex

somehow

[chrysoula]

I’m rereading my fic Hollow Sky in preparation for an important chapter. All the Kaeya sequences are pretty intense, but I’m very fond of this one.

A spasm of frustration ran through Kaeya and he put his hands up to his face, his long fingers over his eyes. Klee felt like the last bit of Mondstadt he had with him. If she rejected him, too…

His fingers curled under his eyepatch, stretching his skin around what lay beneath. Just a tug and he felt the rage again, so deep and powerful that it stole his breath away. He no longer remembered if they’d poured it into him or if he’d learned it on his own. He loved Mondstadt, but before that terrible night when he’d made his choice and turned his back on his people, he’d hated it too. Sun-drenched Mondstadt, where there were always flowers and songs, where the adults still remembered laughter and the monsters weren’t allowed to torture people. Mondstadt, where parents protected their children.

We weren’t always like that.

It wasn’t the old man’s voice this time. This time, it sounded like his own.

Ice crystallized in Kaeya’s blood, and he didn’t know if that was real or not. The new voice was too much for him. A creeping cold grew inside, a cold he’d fought like hell for years to resist. Alcohol. Alcohol was good for this. Alcohol was what you had left when you froze everything wholesome in Mondstadt. Alcohol, and him.

He needed a damn distraction. He couldn’t handle that voice, or the ice in his blood, or the incoherent circles his thoughts kept racing in as the permafrost inside him grew stronger. He couldn’t approach Xingqiu and Lumine, whom Klee had run to. She might not hate him yet and he didn’t want to push that. Besides, those two made him uncomfortable now.

Behind him walked Hu Tao and Xiao. But Xiao made the back of his neck prickle. The yaksha was his own ancient story and that was exactly the kind of thing Kaeya had been drawn into too deeply already. Besides, occasionally, late at night, Kaeya suspected Hu Tao could just snap her fingers and extinguish everything left of him. It made no sense via either her fire Vision or her funeral director role, but ‘making sense’ had never been a strong point of late-night terrors.

And then there was Mona. She’d been kind to him recently, in her own way. He could really do with some more of that brand of kindness right now. Somebody warm and willing in his arms was always an excellent distraction from himself. It was a pity they were on the move right now, but maybe on a break — he surveyed the bleak and uninspiring landscape — she’d consider—

He actually focused on her and his line of thought curled up like a leaf in the frost. She walked with her head down and her shoulders slumped. She’d been upset by the sky, of course, maybe more than any of them. But Kaeya had been distracted then too, first by concern for Zielle and Kazuha, and then by Albedo, and most recently Klee. Really, what kind of a friend was he?

He adjusted his pace to match hers and drifted closer. After a moment, she glanced up. Damp eyelashes framed her reddened eyes, but her voice was completely steady as she said, “What do you want?”

He cocked his head. “Wait. Before I say, I have to know. Am I currently at risk of drowning?”

That brought out a brief, small smile. “Probably. I have trouble believing that’s ever stopped you from being a pest before, though.”

“Nah, but I like to know which particular forms of death I’m courting at any given time. Have to dress the part, you know?”

Mona snorted. “What do you wear to be drowned?”

Kaeya bit back the obvious response and just raised his eyebrows at her until she blushed and looked down again. But instead of the threat or counterattack he’d hoped for, she said, “Stop that. Stop…stop flirting with me. I don’t like it.”

Kaeya kicked a pebble along. “Hmm. Well then. I can always listen, instead?”

Mona’s hands went to her face and then she shook her head and glared up at him. “No! Why would I want to talk to an uneducated buffoon like you? I’d get more interesting insights out of… out of Razor!”

Being compared negatively to the barely-verbal wolf boy might have stung at another time but he could hardly be fussed about it now. Still, if she wanted to fight.… He protested “Hey, I’m pretty good at listening. You don’t need a big brain for that.”

With a sneer that didn’t suit her pretty face, Mona said, “Of course you are. Gathering information for all your little schemes.”

Kaeya blinked at her hostility and felt the ice crystals in his blood clink together. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of my job, you know? But you have to admit there’s not much scheming to be done out here.”

Her breath hissed between her teeth. “Yes, and you haven’t been doing much listening, either.”

That definitely would have hurt. But didn’t, because he was not going to let her hurt him. He couldn’t. He might shatter if she did.

Instead, cold billowing through him, he said, “Would you prefer I scheme? Shall I try to guess why this is suddenly about me?”

“Ah yes, the famous Captain Kaeya swelled head.” Mona shot him a scornful look. “Tell me how you think ‘this,’ whatever you mean by that, is about you.”

“Admit it, you enjoyed kissing me yesterday and you can’t stand that. Maybe you even want to do it again. Don’t worry, Meg. It’s a common reaction.”

Kaeya had calculated on making her scream at him. But, although she flinched, she also gave him a jaded look. “That’s all you can come up with?”

“Uh. I thought it was pretty good?” Kaeya hunched his shoulders uneasily. Suddenly trying to cheer up Mona didn’t seem like such a good idea after all. She had enjoyed kissing him, he knew that, and he was pretty sure that the idea of kissing him again would bother her. So what was going on now…?

Mona narrowed her eyes. “You lie nearly constantly, did you know that? Even when you’re not lying to me, you’re lying to yourself. It’s extremely irritating.”

Startled into a wry laugh that skated atop his freezing blood, Kaeya said, “That’s what I’ve heard but a man has to have a few pleasures. Come on, Mona, what’s going on?” He hadn’t wanted to ask that directly, not when the answer was so obvious, but at this point it was far more important to redirect the conversation anywhere else than him.

Her scowl didn’t change. “Why didn’t this cursed sky bother you? It affected almost everybody else, but not you and not Albedo.”

Once again, he did his best to steer the conversation. “Oh, it hit Albedo all right. He just did his big brain thing and then tucked it away. Surely you’ve seen him in action before. Anyhow, now who’s lying? I don’t believe for a minute you’re this pissed because of that.”

“You’re avoiding answering the question. So reliable.” Mona marched along without looking at him and he considered just retreating. Maybe he could drop in on Hu Tao instead.

Then Mona added acidly, “Come on, at least make up a story for me.”

Frustrated, Kaeya ran his hands through his hair and then pulled at it. “Fuck, I don’t know, Mona. I didn’t learn sky stories when I was a kid. The stars aren’t real to me like they are for you.”

Her jaw clenched. “Or you have some… immunity.”

“If I do, I don’t know about it,” Kaeya muttered. He’d looked up at the sky and it hadn’t made sense but what did these days? He’d noticed the moons but they’d been a picture in stained glass and he had a lot of experience thinking around stuff that scattered his thoughts. His ability to explain that to anybody was currently nonexistent. Explaining would require far too much thinking he simply couldn’t do.

But Mona had the look of a woman who wasn’t going to let this go. “I can tell that’s true, at least right now. But how about the you who came out at the Pyre? I want to talk to him.”

Something dark stirred under the surface.

Kaeya stopped walking. “That… wasn’t anybody. Just some childhood training coming back again. Bad memories.”

“A lie,” she said in a sing-song voice as she turned back toward him. “Do you know who he is yet?”

Irritating girl. Go to sleep, Kaeya, suggested the voice that sounded like his own. Go to sleep, just for a moment, and let me deal with this.

“No,” said Kaeya, and then added desperately, “No. I can’t, don’t you understand? I made my choice.”

Mona’s face wiped clean of expression for a moment. Then she shook her head briefly and something like sympathy touched her eyes. “It’s not enough, though. It never will be.”

[possessionisamyth]

the previous evening i saw diobrandass make a post about their ship opinions and immediately remembered how much i hate piers, BUT i do love chris so this post will be about all the ships ive seen him in and my thoughts about them ranked, thanks for the inspo 🫡

1. Valenfield (Chris/Jill)

I'm an absolute sucker for long term friendships forged in fire blooming into the romantic. The sheer dedication Chris has to Jill does border on unhealthy sometimes. Refusing to believe she's dead, not letting anyone mourn for her to give her a funeral, and searching relentlessly for 3 years is a lot. In Revelations I we can see how far they're willing to go for each other and in Death Island too we can see how fundamentally he's attached himself to her. She's the one person he lost and actually managed to save in the end. Absolutely love the idea of Jill prioritizing her job over almost everything the exact same way Chris does, but notices that Chris always makes her the exception to the rule. Tasty dynamic right here.

2. Chreon (Chris/Leon)

I started reading fanfiction for this ship after a playthrough of RE4R and continued reading fanfiction for this ship while I viewed the rest of the games and movies in chronological release date order. Spoiled myself for quite a few things that way, but this is said to explain my implicit bias for this ship. Two broken men finding healing in each other that's either super sweet or frustratingly messy. What else can I say? It's good shit.

3. Alofield? Chreva? (Chris/Sheva)

RE5 is a shit show for many racist reasons, but Chris and Sheva were genuinely cute together. I thought it was interesting that unlike Chris' other teams or partner jobs, he keeps giving Sheva a chance to leave. He wants her to survive. It could be a result of the lingering guilt from losing Jill, but I'm not sure about that because he doesn't push her away when she chooses to stay either. There's such an even footing and sense of respect between the two because their experiences are similar, but they went through them separately meaning the threat of toxic co-dependency derived from mutual survival would be non-existent. These are two experienced soldiers going into a slightly unfamiliar warzone, and even Jill gives her blessing when they go to kill the man that's been haunting Chris' life since 98. Poetic in the manner of closing out the past to give a fresh step forward into the future.

4. Chamberfield (Chris/Rebecca)

RE1- no no, not the remake, the original RE1 where Chris was allowed to be funny and Rebecca was genuinely just a rookie where they helped each other. Vendetta was a perfect follow up to show how time and experience reflected upon their maturity. In RE1 Chris had to make himself the pillar so Rebecca wouldn't feel as scared, and in Vendetta Chris is almost so blinded by revenge it's Rebecca who steps into that role to knock some sense into him. This is another long term friendship forged in fire blooming into the romantic scenario, but unlike with Jill, with Rebecca there's a lot more playfulness there. They seem lighter with each other probably because Rebecca isn't out there risking her life in the field nearly as much so maybe Chris can breathe easier as a result.

5. Olifield? Redveira? (Chris/Carlos)

I am the local Carlos whore, and I say this is a good ship. But seriously, both of them sharing horrible fucked up experiences surviving bioweapons with Jill and being disenfranchised with their country's military? There's a lot of common ground to explore here. Despite them never meeting to our knowledge,(totally plausible event after Jill and Carlos escape RC) it just barely edges into my Top 5 because I am the local Carlos whore.

6. Chrisker? (Chris/Albert)

Not a fan, but I get it. For people who like things like Hannibal or toxic love or the "I can make him worse" dynamics, I get it. This ship is perfect for that. There's one sided sexual tension from Wesker with the reveal, betrayal of a trusted companion, the evolution of becoming someone you killed making you wonder if you ever really let them go, and so on. I understand it. I don't like it, but I understand.

7. Winterfield (Chris/Ethan)

Ethan wasn't even a character to me until halfway through RE8, so I genuinely thought this was a "you guys would fuck a fence if it was white" scenario but it isn't! Upon looking at it again, there is something interesting here especially when Chris is placed in the unrequited love position. Chris saves this man, does all he can to give Ethan the tools to protect himself and his family, and then promptly has to shit on it to protect Ethan and his family. In the end he only saves Mia and Rose, but not Ethan who may or may not be the only person he wanted to save the whole time. It's the opposite of Chris losing Jill to save her later, with Chris saving Ethan to lose him later. To discover he never saved him in the first place? That all he'd done is retrieve and fall in love with a corpse of mold? Tragedy lovers this is for you.

8. Sherafield? (Chris/Jessica)

I've seen it maybe twice? Hot girl and work-a-holic boyfriend who pays her bills maybe. I liked Jessica. Would this work? Nope! It definitely wouldn't last more than a couple months but it'd be messy af and funny to watch.

9. Vesterfield (Chris/Raymond)

Where am I??!?!! Why??????!?? What??!!!? Uh, triple agent with a heart of gold because he saved Parker meets Chris??? I'm sorry. They have zero chemistry. Why is it this high at all? I think it's funny.

10. Nivanfield (Chris/Piers)

This is The "you guys would fuck a fence if it was white" ship. Piers in RE6 only serves the narrative purpose to remind Chris he's stuck in this life forever. He's boring as hell. Ship wise, hero worship does not a relationship make to me. Based on all the ships in this list, I don't think Chris wants to be with someone who puts him on a pedestal. He hates being called a hero or a legend, and we've seen him deny this title multiple times throughout the entire franchise. Piers' sacrifice is at the cost of upholding what Chris represents, not who he is. I'm not sure what eats away at Chris more, the loss of another companion or the reason behind it. It would be funny to see Chris sleeping with him once, realizing Piers doesn't see him as a fully realized person and then struggling to get rid of him though. I'd read that. Someone write that.

11. Heisenfield (Chris/Karl)

STOP LYING TO PEOPLE SAYING HEISENBERG IS HOT. I'M PUTTING LIVE ROACHES INTO YOUR HOME. NO!!! NO!!!!

12. Dimifield (Chris/Alcina)

Do not put this giant lesbian vampire milf through Chris' emotional constipation. Like, please don't do this. You want a giant woman with a little man? I can show you some good ones. Come with me. Take my hand.

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home ARGYLE FUENTES (oscar isaac fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

BASICS

      [OSCAR ISAAC, CISMALE, HE/HIM] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [ARGYLE FUENTES]? Old friends remember them as [OPEN-MINDED & LAID-BACK] but also [BLUNT & OBLIVIOUS], no wonder they’re still known as [THE BASKET CASE] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [39] and some people say they remind them of [the faint ever-present smell of weed lingering in your clothes despite your attempts to cover it up with essential oils and incense of every kind; unexpectedly making the move from ‘token sidekick’ to the trope of ‘genius ditz’; finding fulfillment in the simple things in life; perpetually sore muscles from keeping up a brave face  ]. [you know who iam. (threat)].    

BIOGRAPHY

TW: DEATH MENTION, GRIEF

Maybe deciding to stay in Hawkins had been the easiest decision Argyle had ever made in his life. Jonathan had been his first real friend in the world, as Argyle would later quote at Jonathan’s wedding reception, his life had… basically started the moment he’d walked into Mrs. Miller’s classroom at the beginning of the year, the second he’d sat down on the only empty seat left in the class and Argyle had turned to him with a grin so big it had made his cheeks ache. Brochachos for life. Trauma-bonded until the end of their lives after that wild fucking roadtrip they’d gone on, spring break of ‘86.

First, though, Argyle had to wait until graduation. He’d promised his abuela on her deathbed that he’d finish school, and he’d sort of promised himself, too. There were plenty of people, loads of teachers included, who seemed to be convinced that, because he indulged in the occasional blunt, he’d never amount to anything, much less academic success. But, ha, he’d show them! (Also, he wasn’t going to start shit with the ghost of his grammy. He may have promised her to stay in school but she had promised him to come back and haut his ass if he didn’t. And she’d already been scary while alive, no need to risk anything. ) Show them he motherfucking did. Walking that stage at graduation with a joint tucked behind his ear, a wide grin, bathing in the gobsmacked stares of all the people who’d thought he couldn’t do it. Take that, Lenora Hills. Take that, Martin from Algebra. Take that, uh…. what was that dude’s name again?

Having successfully graduated from High School, all Argyle needed to before moving to Hawkins was drop out of community college.  A predictable move for him, sadly. He’d stuck it to the haters with the 3.8 GPA at graduation. Then he’d proceeded to un-stick it to them by giving up his place at Lenora community. But whatever, there were more important things in Argyle’s life now than studying and drinking questionable amounts of alcohol out of red solo cups. Lenora community would still be there if Argyle ever decided to move back to Cali, and, besides, Hawkins had a community college of its own. So, Argyle could support his best bro and get an education! Two birds with one beautiful, smooth, warm stone. A joint between his lips, Argyle handed in his apron and drove the Surfer Boy van along the coast for one last time.

Life in Hawkins was … different, to say the least, but easier to adapt to than he’d initially thought.The first few months were spent mostly indoors, comforting and supporting Jonathan in any way he could. Movie nights, long talks over a shared joint in the middle of the night. Whatever he needed, Argyle was there to provide it. Whether that was a grocery run, a call to the funeral home to re-negotiate a deal on the caskets. Argyle proved to be a real jack of all trades during that time -  a time of mutual comfort during gried, though, because, of course, Argyle wasn’t left completely untouched by the deaths of Will and El, either. He’d known them for as long as he’d known Jonathan, had needed to get used to this new version of the Byers household, as quiet as he’d never experienced it before. The first few months until well after the funeral, Argyle did everything to be as accommodating as possible to Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce.

Oh, Joyce. Bless her heart. Argyle hadn’t been fortunate enough to have grown up with a mom, raised by his father and abuela, and that had been totally fine and lovely! But holy cow, wasn’t it lovely, too, that Joyce Byers had taken him in like one of her own. He’d even called her ‘mom’ by accident a couple of times. But it wasn’t horrific like it was when he’d been so tired he’d accidentally called Mrs. Croucher ‘mom’ in history class. No, the opposite, actually, Joyce had merely laughed, ruffled Argyle’s hair, a distant look of sadness in her eyes she tried to hide by quickly asking him if he wanted anymore mashed potatoes.

It’s Joyce that pitches the idea of a roadtrip to California to him. Arglye quickly pitches it to Jonathan and, after a little convincing, they’re back in the Surfer Boy Pizza van, a big, foldable map spread out across Jonathan’s lap while Argyle happily drums along to ‘Break My Stride’ on the steering wheel. Down the West Coast to California. A trip down memory lane - stopping by the Byers old residence, paying a visit to Argyle’s father and his new wife - with a healthy dose of laying on the sand at Santa Monica beach, sharing a joint while watching the sunset. ‘You know, brochacho’, Argyle would say with a dazed grin, watching intently as the red and orange and blue of the sea exploded into a lovely rose-ish colour, ‘everytime there’s a, like, a super, like, pretty sunset? That’s my abuela saying hi. And Will, to. And your little sis.’ And he would nod to no one in particular, before adding, a little quieter; ‘Sorry I ratted you out to Joyce with the viscious skate attack, little bro. That was actually so badass.’ And they would be quiet for a while.

Once back from their trip, Argyle, having blown through his Surfer Boy savings, got a job at the laundromat. He just sat there most of the time, blazed, talking to little old Dolores about her cat or her husband, he wasn‘t quite sure. Since moving to Hawkins, Argyle had gone on a journey of … finding himself. He’d pretty much sailed through life, couldn’t really name any goal or aspiration he had. Everytime they’d taken one of those career aptitude test he’d panicked - all those things sounded sort of good! But also all of them sounded sort of bad, too… god, how could he ever decide what to do with his life?

One night, he had an epiphany. Having consumed a criminal amount of weed, the idea had suddenly popped into his head, and he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. ‘A speak easy….. but, like, for weed, man!’ A buddy of his had gone to Amsterdam in the summer, told him about the ‘coffee shops’ there. But how much more exciting when it was, like, secret! And smoking was still criminalized, at least in Indiana it was. Had he stuck gold here?

Argyle’s secret-but-not-so-secret weed speakeasy, the weed sponsored in part by one of the friends except Jonathan he’d made in Hawkins, some super cool dude named Reefer Rick, opened underneath the laundromat soon after. With moderate success among insiders but, hey, success nonetheless!

However, once Argyle pitched the idea to some of his buddies who owned a couple of weed dispensaries in Cali, he had really stuck gold, like, seriously.  A place where you could both purchase the goods and consume them, in a safe space, a comfy environment? Genius. Truly. Maybe this had been Argyle’s purpose all along, being a business owner. A true business man. But without the stuffy suits and the, like, cocaine and infidelity.

Suddenly, as if overnight, Argyle Fuentes is, like, rich. Like, filthy rich, or something akin to that. Like, raking in dough, rich. When he checks his bank account for the first time in months - he doesn’t usually do that, money is made up, anyway - he can scarcely believe it’s real. ‘Don’t spend it all at once!’, the bank teller cautions him with a playful wink. Argyle nods, proceeds to by his dad and step-mother their house. He pays off whatever debts they have. Then he withdraws a fifty and leaves. He scarcely, if ever, touches his funds, why should he? He’s got everything he needs. He makes sure Jonathan’s fridge is full, makes sure he’s got snacks in his own, too. Every once in a while, Argyle will pick a good cause to donate some of the money to.

Oh, he buys a cat, too. Garfield. Who … looks nothing like Garfield, but it was the only cat name he could think of. So now he’s rich and he has a cat and he travels for business (fucking business) every once in a while, but truly, Argyle is happiest when he’s lounging on a bench near lover’s lake, basking in the few hours of sun Hawkins got in a day.

During his travels he meets the woman that, soon enough, will turn Argyle into an actual dad. She’s a good buddy, one joint too many and one thing had led to another,a one night stand had turned into a future of co-parenting. No bad blood between them, fuck, if anything, Argyle was stoked! He’d always wanted to be a dad, and this was going to be a challenge, of course, but one he’d happily take on. He’s so happy, it’s ridiculous. The fact that she doesn’t pressure him to either marry her or stay completely out of her and the little bud’s life is a huge relief on him, too.

Everything’s going too good, almost, in comparison to what Jonathan’s going through. When Joyce passes, Argyle puts all other things on hold, rushes to Jonathan’s side. Surely, this dude had been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and here came another hit. But Argyle is there, and he’s not going anywhere. Fuck, he’s in this for life, no take-backsies.

Argyle put his surfer boy cap - or one of them, the man’s got thousands - in the time capsule, along with the recipe to the famous surfer boy pizza dough (there’s a secret ingredient in there that Argyle can’t even remember now),

STATS

       Please distribute up to fifty points among the following stats! Click here for more detailed instructions on stats.

Athletics (How Athletic are they?)  1

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) 3

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) 3

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) 0

Drive (like, actual driving ability) 2

Empathy (How much of an empath are they?) 3

Fight (Do they have hands?) 0

Investigate (Can they sleuth?) 2

Lore (Kinda like knowledge) 1

Medicine (First aid essentially) 1

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) 0

Notice (Is your character observant?) 1

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?) 0

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?) 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) 3

Stealth (Are they sneaky?) 1

Will (Tenacity) 2

    EXTRAS

     pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.co.uk/edsmunson/argyle/

[navree]

is it just me who thinks aemond "loving" alicent was only a facade? now he is smug; looks at his mother not with respect or reverence but as if she is someone lower than him because he murdered someone so he can feel better about himself and fuck the others including alicent who was always there for him. like wtf?

So I haven't actually seen the Team Black trailer so maybe there's more interaction in there, but I haven't seen any interaction between Aemond and Alicent? In the promo materials thus far Aemond's on his own or with Criston, and Alicent's with Aegon, Otto, and the funeral scene with Helaena, as well as on her own near various water sources (Ophelia-core, hell yeah). So unless I'm missing something, we haven't really seen any of how their season 2 dynamic is going to be from promotional material yet.

But as to any expressions he's making, I think we need to remember a few things. One, that Aemond isn't actually very expressive visually. He keeps his face pretty neutral at all times, even with people he's close to like Criston and like Alicent. The only time we really see Aemond as portrayed by Ewan openly show emotion is that scene when he realizes Viserys is dead, when he loses his shit at Luke, and during the chase above Storm's End. So it's entirely possible that, whatever he's feeling, he's not showing it on his face (and Ewan has a mouth that appears to curl naturally, so neutrality doesn't necessarily entirely come off that way just based on how he looks). Two, Aemond also doesn't express what he's feeling, period. Storm's End has always been notable to me, from a character perspective for Aemond, because of the fact that it's the only time we see him as an adult actually show how he's feeling. He doesn't show how he's feeling during his training session, during the throne room, during the dinner (seriously, even when threatening Jace or doing the Strong boys speech, his face stays the same, it's just the fact that he's acting at all that appears impressive), during Aegon's coronation, even during something as high emotion as Aegon begging for freedom (while also tenderly cradling his face, the Aegond agenda is alive and well here people never forget that). So I think unless it's a scene where there's a lot going on (like, immediate aftermath of Blood and Cheese levels), he's gonna just not openly express a whole lot.

Lastly, again I never like to knock on people's interpretations of things, but I think it's important to remember what actually happened last time we saw Aemond and what we've seen so far. He didn't murder anyone. He had intent to maim, yeah, at least during his outburst, and he clearly wanted to fuck with Luke, I'm assuming to try and instill a similar feeling of fear and helplessness he must have felt as he dealt with a gruesome, debilitating, and very painful injury at a younger age than Luke due to something Luke did. But the second shit started going wrong and there was clear intent to cause serious bodily injury that could result in death, he's not on board. Remember, Vhagar and Arrax broke control and started acting on their own volition, Arrax by attacking clearly despite Luke trying to stop it, and Vhagar by retaliating to a threat against her. We verbally hear Aemond try to rein it in, and we hear how clearly not on board and horrified he is when it doesn't work and Vhagar chomps Arrax and Luke (earned, honestly, he was super boring and if you can't even bring yourself to apologize for nearly killing another human being for no reason you deserve what you get). And when we see his face, he's very much not happy, and is clearly aware of just how big a fuck up this is and what the potential repercussions could be. Would Aemond be found guilty of, like, dragoncular manslaughter in court for what happened to Luke? Yeah. But did he murder someone and feel good about it? No.

Not to mention, the only in depth thing we've really seen from Aemond (at least in the Greens trailer) is him saying that he has no problem meeting Daemon in the field, which I think is taking place after Blood and Cheese since Criston's hair is shorter and they're clearly putting Fabien in a wig at least for episode one, based on some stills I saw on Variety. And just as I have no issue with Aegon jovially discussing going to war with Team Black after his mother is brutalized and his sister is tortured and his children are threatened with death and rape and his son is beheaded, I don't have much of an issue with Aemond being gung-ho and happy to go after Daemon after he sent men to terrorize innocent civilian members of his family who had jack shit to do with what happened at Storm's End. I'd be skipping and dancing to the opportunity to fuck him over if he did something like that to my sister and her hypothetical family.

TL;DR, I don't think Aemond is "smug" personally, I think he's got resting bitch face and a tendency towards looking neutral, and we also just haven't seen anything of substance from him yet, along with a) not jiving with what we saw last time we saw him and b) a certain cheeriness to violence being a reasonable response to members of his family being grievously wronged.

[thepatronsaintoffarewells]

I lost ten people to suicides and overdoses before I turned 28, some I was closer with, others to a lesser degree, all that I wished that I had more time with. My sister had attempted. My mom had attempted. I had attempted. I had friends that were still using and lovers that made threats. It was very hard for me, at the time, to see a way through it all. I clung to my friends that remained. I wanted to erase all our collective grief and sadness. It felt like no one else wanted that, or no one else saw it like I did. It can be very hard, to love an unwell person so fiercely. It can be harder when that person is yourself.

There's a scene in a Robin Williams movie, What Dreams May Come, where his character journeys through the depths of hell to save his wife who had committed suicide. When he realizes that she won't leave on her own, he makes to stay there with her. I used to think that it was really beautiful to love someone like that. I think in my own life that I always wanted to be the kind of person who could stay and bear it. I didn't want to leave anyone alone. What I found in practice though, was that the more obstacles I cleared for a person, the more room they had to cause harm. They call it enabling, right? It went even further than that though. I wanted to experience it with them. I wanted to be able to let go and really feel things and maybe even wallow a bit. I wanted to get splitting drunk and numbingly high. I fantasized, sometimes, about being so awful that no one would miss me, like it would lessen the blow if I killed myself. But I'd feel so terrible and I could never really do it because I also wanted, so badly, to be loved.

I had a friend that I told everything to. We would go up to the bar and he would drink and I would spill my guts. We talked about really painful things like how when my ex had attempted after we broke up I was struck by the realization that I had never felt so loved. I told him I was suicidal. They say you're less likely to go through with it if you tell someone and I didn't really want to kill myself I just wanted everything else to quit. He cried into my hair after I drove him home that night saying over and over "I love you, please don't die." It's fucked, but it's one of my fondest memories from that point in my life.

I got my shit together, to a certain degree, by learning how to walk away and when to leave. There are a lot of people that I love or had loved that aren't in my life anymore. I had to learn how to let them go, how to say goodbye and be at peace with it. In the beginning, I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. You make peace at the funeral or you don't. I got mixed up wanting to save people I had already lost by sacrificing my own happiness to the people that were still there. The thought of losing anyone else was unbearable, but I learned that leaving is more than just self preservation, it's a gift to both parties.

People will make their own decisions and possibly find their own happiness with or without you. It's not that you aren't responsible for them (you also aren't) it's that you don't have enough control in the outcome. Picture it like being a passenger in a car. Someone else has control of the wheel, the gas, and the breaks. You can direct them as much as you like, but it is their hands and their feet that are making the decisions. You can beg them to not crash the car, or you can get out of the car and hope they have enough sense on their own not to crash. If you, like me, have been in many metaphorical car crashes it's more than grief at that point. It's an injury. You wont find an end to your grief until you figure out how to tend to your wounds.

Because sometimes you are the driver and it's your own decisions that may cause you to crash. Somewhere in me is still the 21 year old that wanted to kill herself. Sometimes, if I'm not careful, she'll surface. I can't be mad at her for it, I remember the things she went through and the things she did to feel like she had any control. I didn't always love her, but I think I'm learning to now. More importantly, I've learned that it's okay to leave her alone. It's okay to grow beyond her instead of joining her. She did fine, she made it just enough to make room for the person I am today, and I think if she was really here, she would thank me. Her friend had told her that she needed to learn how to hold her own hand, how to be her own solace first. That advice got her through a lot, but I think I would tell her now that it's also okay to let go.

I know you might be in different place and that there may not be as much time and distance between the parts of yourself you haven't yet learned how to love. Maybe you're in danger of crashing your metaphorical car, or a part of you wishes for it. It doesn't make you a bad person. We are all made up of complex experiences and thoughts. The people that love you will give you the space to air the worst parts of yourself and they will be there when you are done. I know because I've done those things and I am still very much loved. I have been destitute. I have been a drunk and abused drugs. I have wanted my own death. I have loved people that did not deserve it and been treated badly for it. I have treated those that loved me badly. When I was going through it, I was unable to see a future in which it would ever end. I thought I would always be grieving, that I would always be lonely. But at the end of all of that there was always something more. My sisters had their babies. It was the perfect day outside. My nieces and nephews were growing like weeds. An old friend had reached out. I had people that loved me, that supported me whether or not I needed them to.

The thing that has taken me the longest time to learn is how to be supported and how to be loved. I had a friend who was once very good at saying the things I needed to hear. He called me out on all my bullshit and, more than that, his love was the scaffolding that helped me repair myself. He told me once that the only thing holding me back was me. I grappled with that for a long time and even as I began to understand it, I was still angry. I hated myself for it, and then finally I looked back at the root of who I was before the loss and the anger and the shame. I found the pieces of myself that I had buried in an attempt to protect them. I found a person in me I could love and I watered her like a seed. Somewhere in you is that same seed. We can water it ourselves, and sometimes if you let the right person in, they can water it too.

[dropthedemiurge]

Second part is here~ I've only retold half of the movie, oops xD

But we're getting first romantic scenes here~

When Hotae is asleep, Donghee gets up and puts healing balms in his own school uniform and penal. To make sure he'll always have them ready because Hotae keeps getting new wounds (from his 'girlfriends' who break up with him and fight him lol)

[I think there is some important scene but I don't remember it clearly anymore sorry… x)] If I'm not wrong, Hotae came to Donghee's art studio, caressed his clothes and name tag, and saw that sketchbook he didn't let him see before. He scrolled through (very beautiful!!) black and white sketches, and then on the next pages he suddenly saw his own portraits. Hotae's face, his eyes and mouth separately like an artist's studies.

Donghee comes in and Hotae barely manages to close and turn away from the sketchbook. Donghee comments about how the wound on Hotae's face still hasn't healed. He goes to his desk, opens penal and gets the balm out. While he puts it on Hotae's face, the tension is palpable.

Hotae asks him if he likes drawing. Donghee realizes he's seen his sketches. He says he draws everyone. Hotae asks why did he draw him. Donghee pauses, puts a bandaid above his eyebrow and then answers that he always has been drawing people that look like Hotae. He points at one of the busts (Agrippa) and says he looks like Hotae.

Hotae adds he was just curious, and then points at the second busts, telling that this one is Donghee then (bust with more delicate features and sharper nose). Donghee laughs and sends him home, saying he can't study while Hotae there.

Donghee gets a flashback about the first scene. Turns out, he was watching Hotae play football with kids in a funeral suit. "Your dad has passed away, but for some reason my heart was beating so fast".

He tells Hotae that he'll do anything for him (I think it was because his dad is not around to guide and care for him). "- Anything? - Yes. Should I teach you? Just let me know, I'll teach you everything." Hotae brushes it off and reminds that tomorrow is Donghee's birthday. Even if he doesn't read books, he's not a fool to not remember. He invites Donghee to go somewhere tomorrow together.

They go to a beach. Hotae sulks that they could choose something fun but they came here. It's not even fun since it's too cold to swim. Donghee says it's the most fun place for him. He used to come to a beach every birthday with his parents, eating food and taking photos. He tells Hotae to stand and take photos but Hotae refuses.

They want to walk but Donghee gets a phone call. His mom tells him to come home to eat some seaweed soup (birthday tradition). She says the father is not home and Donghee hasn't come home in a very long time. Donghee agrees, and he and Hotae have to part ways. He wants to walk for a bit longer with Hotae, but Hotae sends him home to the waiting mother.

Hotae and his mom prepare birthday dinner at home with cake, wondering if Donghee will return tonight since it's already late. The mom goes outside and notices that Donghee is sitting outside of their walls. He has bruises and his lips is broken and bleeding. She asks gently if it was his father's doing. She helps bringing Donghee home. Meanwhile Hotae is lighting up candles on a birthday cake and starts singing a song, but immediately is silent when he notices Donghee's condition. He's very angry, but his mom scolds him and tells to go treat Donghee's wounds.

Hotae and Donghee sit on a bench outside of the house, under the tree. Hotae spits threats towards Donghee's father. He puts balm on his finger and reaches out to put it on Donghee's lip wound. He feels feelings and is like "Oh, so this is how it feels to rub a balm on someone's face…" Donghee: "How?" Hotae, staring at his face and lips: "I don't know. A little bit… strange." Donghee replies to him that if he knows it now, he should stop getting hit then xD

Hotae goes back to rub the balm in his lip, and Donghee flinches, saying it hurts. Hotae apologies but notices that he's shaking. Suddenly, Donghee is crying and he is freaking out, not knowing what to do. Hotae sits there, Donghee's head against his shoulder while he wails. The mother is looking at them from inside of the house through the window with the sad look on her face.

Next day, Donghee walks away to school without Hotae. Hotae runs after him and complains, Donghee says he follows him fine anyway. Hotae's like "Am I a stalker to follow you?" :D

They go inside the school, Donghee walks to the corner of the corridor, then sees something and suddenly changes direction. Hotae is confused and asks him where he's going. Donghee says, he'll be in the infirmary. Hotae is worried that Donghee is hurt somewhere, but Donghee says Hotae is the one who needs to go to infirmary. Hotae says he's not hurt. Donghee replies cheerfully: "You will be very soon! So I'll go."

He leaves Hotae, Hotae walks further and then finally sees two of his ex-girlfriends are waiting for him. They see him and scream, running after him.

Cue to the infirmary, Hotae is storming in while Donghee is preparing. "- You left me?! - What, you wanted us to die together?" Donghee is treating his wound. The girls are trying to break into infirmary, the door is closed but one of the girls picks the lock xD They act like serial killers in a horror movie. Hotae drags Donghee away to hide. It looks like they are behind the curtain, girls pull it away but there's no one.

They leave, and Hotae with Donghee stay behind the second curtain. They stand very closely, their hearts beating. Donghee tells Hotae to move but Hotae pins him against the window. Donghee is staring at him. "- What are you doing? Are you crazy? - Kim Donghee. Have you ever kissed?" Donghee is taken aback, meanwhile Hotae is very fixated and asking again. He says he wants to try kissing for the first time. "Answer me. - To what. - Have you kissed? - …Yeah."

Hotae is surprised by his answer. "You kissed someone?! When? Who?!" Donghee is glaring at him. "What are you going to do if I tell you?" Hotae is gathering courage and asks Donghee to teach him then. "- How can I teach you that? - You can just kiss me. - Are you crazy? - Why not? Just think of it as a problem solving task. - Solving problems and kissing someone is different. - You told me to ask you anything I didn't know."

Donghee is silent. Then he says "Call me hyung then." The pause is long, and it looks like Hotae won't say it so Donghee wants to scold him not to joke like that, when Hotae finally calls him hyung. "Hyung. Please, teach me how to kiss." (very politely language-wise!!). Romantic music plays, and they slowly lean in together, having their first kiss.

Time of Fever (Donghee/Hotae story recap) #1

Since this movie (Unintentional Love Story's spinoff, prequel about Hotae and Donghee) is currently shown only in cinemas in Korea, I went and watched it :D And for people who don't mind spoilers or want to know what's their story without waiting until it becomes available and translated online, I wrote a recap!

It turned out to be... uhh... quite lengthy so I'll make several posts or comments :] Let me know if you want to be tagged in them!

Disclaimer: I'm putting everything under 'read more' so people won't catch spoilers accidentally! Screenshots are from the trailer, I put them along the scenes I described. Disclaimer #2: I'm not fluent in Korean (especially listening to it by-ear) and some characters had accents/satoori so some details can be missed. But I tried my best to write down what I was definitely sure about :D I'm re-listening to my audio recording so it won't be that far away from truth.

Enjoy!

Hotae is standing outside, dressed in a suit, looking far away as kids shout around. The camera pans out, and it's revealed he's dressed in a funeral-attending suit (seems like his father has died). The kids' ball rolls to his feet, and they ask Hotae to pass them the ball back. Hotae leads the ball and plays the football with kids, starting to smile.

Hotae moves to the big cottage-like house with backyard and peach trees where his mom (and also Donghee) has been living. He is eager to rush into the house, calling out 'Hyung!' but Donghee isn't at home. Hotae is looking at all the old shelves, childhood books and sport trophees. 

He texts Donghee "Hyung, I arrived! When are you coming?". Donghee hasn't responded but he was coming after school, hesitantly walking along the house outer wall. Hotae notices him and sneaks to hide in bushes, jumping over and surprising him. I think they haven't seen each other for 2(?) years. They bicker a little. Then Hotae says: "Hyung, you haven't changed at all". Donghee replied with: "You grew up well, Go Hotae."

Their moms are chatting and suggesting Hotae goes to Donghee's school, while Hotae is taking out books outside and Donghee is studying inside the house. They steal glances at each other through the window.

Donghee and Hotae go through school's gates, Donghee is grabbed by a friend and Hotae is stopped by the guard (because of his improperly looking uniform). Then we're at the swimming pool, Hotae is in the team, getting scolded along with other late students. The head(?) of the team is Donghee's friend who said Hotae better be working hard, if he wasn't Donghee's younger bro (not specified meaning sibling or just junior) they would've kicked his ass. Hotae bites back that he's not Donghee's younger bro.

Donghee came home late, Hotae was waiting for him. He speaks to Donghee very informally and disrespectfully, 'You know what hour it is? Don't you hear me? Hey, Kim Donghee!' Donghee: "Are you out of your mind? Why aren't you calling me hyung?".

Hotae asks Donghee if he got 1st place in competition and says that he has to also earn 1st place then. He asks Donghee to come see him, even if it's just evaluation and not competition. Donghee responds that he'll come see Jisoo (his friend on the swimming team), Hotae is annoyed. "Say it once again! Who you'll come to see?! - Yoo Jisoo. - Again. - Who?>:(( - Aaah damn it, fine. You, I'll come to see you, happy?" Hotae is, indeed, happy and promises to get 1st place.

The swimming competition starts, Hotae starts well but fails. Donghee's standing outside waiting. Jisoo comes to him offering to come get some food, but Donghee declines. Jisoo's like ah, you're waiting for your guy, alright.

Donghee goes to search for Hotae. Hotae is sitting near the wall in his swimming suit, towel on his shoulders and head, he's trembling while crying. Donghee sits in front of him and says: "Wow, you're really ugly :D Get up, let's go grab some food. No? Alright, just cry out as much as you can then. I won't tell anyone."

They walk back home down the train road, lit up by the sunlight. Hotae: "Aah the sun is so bright, my eyes hurt." Donghee: "Isn't it because you cried so hard?" Hotae: "No!>:(" They bicker a little, and Donghee laughs at Hotae's face expression again. Meanwhile, Hotae was emotional but now he's in awe because there is someone watering bushes behind Donghee, and there are droplets of water and bright warm sun, and Donghee looks so beautiful. They walk back home together.

Hotae watches his mother dot on Donghee as he leaves home again. Hotae follows Donghee and discovers he's often staying in the old art workshop schoolroom. There are old drawing easels and canvases, books everywhere and two plaster busts. Hotae wanders around and tries to peek into sketchbooks, Donghee rushes to him and grabs the dark blue sketchbook out of his hands, scolding him not to open it.

(screenshot not from this scene but this is the view of that school art studio~)

Hotae discovers some book lying around and opens up to read it. It's a story about man turning into an insect (I didn't see the cover but I can safely guess it's "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka?). Hotae is confused what kind of story is this. Donghee is like "If one day I get turned into an insect, (will you still love me) am I Kim Donghee or am I an insect?". Hotae is still confused about his question and the book.

Hotae falls asleep, napping in the studio while Donghee studies. Donghee walks away without him but slams the door loudly so Hotae wakes up and runs after him. It's raining outside, they are covering their head with hood (H) and backpack (D). In the middle of rain pouring, Hotae stops giving any fucks and spreads his arms, shoving his face under the rain. Donghee looks at him, smiles and does the same. They both enjoy the pouring rain and play in it, until they run to hide in the tunnel.

Hotae laughs, they remember their childhood. Donghee asks why Hotae doesn't call him "hyung". Hotae doesn't answer but comes to him and helps squeeze out the water from his orange fluffy sweater. Romantic mood, cue~

The rain turns into thunderstorm when they are already home. They sleep next to each other on different futons. Donghee's back is turned to Hotae, he's facing the window. He's trembling under the blanket. We get flashback to an angry man (his dad) punching and hitting Donghee to the ground amidst lightning and thunder.

Hotae stirs up and asks whether he's cold or scared. Donghee tells him to just go to sleep, but Hotae refuses. Then he's like 'aah whatever, move!', gets up and lies right next to Donghee (back to him). After a while, Donghee turns and scoots closer, clasping his shirt in his fingers, asking Hotae not to mind it.

Hotae asks: "You weren't like this before, what happened? - Everything changes, so I have changed too." Donghee almost noses into him. Hotae feels the breath from his lips on his back, gets shivers and remembers it next morning as well.

They sit on a porch of the house, Donghee brought Hotae some cut up tomatoes to eat. Hotae whines that it's too hot. He grabs tomato, bites in it and the drop of juice escapes down his arm. Donghee fixates on it and reaches out to wipe it with his fingers. Hotae freaks out about it, gets a bit rude and leaves.

He's swimming in the pool alone, full of thoughts about Donghee that obviously bother him. There's a random girl who meets him after his practice, she confesses to Hotae and asks him out. Hotae: "Well, alright".

They walk together, but Donghee was playing basketball and now is going home. Hotae tells the girl he'll be leaving and runs to Donghee, putting an arm around his back that Donghee says to keep to himself. Girl, frustrated, yells after him. Donghee is confused but Hotae tells him not to mind it and offers to go grab some food.

Days go by, Donghee keeps texting Hotae to help him with something (like 'buy some eggs on the way home', or 'bring me earphones' etc), Hotae ditches his new girlfriend because of "urgent thing", and rushes home with eggs.

Donghee is cooking and is surprised to see his face (there is a small wound). We learn that girlfriend cursed at Hotae and slapped him for not giving her any attention and constantly ditching her. Hotae says it's nothing, he just broke up with his girlfriend. "Why? - Because I bought eggs. - What even is this…" 

Donghee walks home from school, he sees Hotae and goes to him happily but Hotae's with another girl who confesses to him and asks to become her boyfriend, and Hotae once again says "Alright then". Donghee is upset.

He returns home late, and Hotae yells at him because he was worried and Donghee wasn't responding to any texts, yet he was holding a phone in his hand (idk why but he had two in the movie xD). They bicker again about Hotae addressing him impolitely. "- Ya! (Hey) - Ya? Ya?! Hey, are you really not calling me hyung, you–"

Hotae looks at Donghee. "I can't (call you hyung). I won't!"

He walks away from him, but after awhile stops and turns back. "Go faster!" He returns and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him towards the house. Donghee smiles. Even when he tells Hotae to take his hand away, Hotae won't.

[to be continued–]

[beauspot]

ok i’ve had time to sit with this viewing of wakanda forever and im only going to try to add things i haven’t spoken about before UNLESS my opinion on something has changed. i do have namuri and okoyuma brainrot so excuse any shipper nonsense you don’t care about 🥴

L O N G P O S T 👇🏾

Small Details I Noticed:

as t’challa was being carried to the city of the dead after the funeral two wakandan ships cross in the sky like they’re doing the wakandan salute

when ramonda meets with the united nations she wears purple and gold symbolizing how she’s “taking care of business” like killmonger

the color red is associated with tradition in wakanda and everything new is associated with the color the blue and blue typically is associated with what element? water

aneka and ayo are so cute 😙

the shift from background music to it being diegetic sirens was masterful

i couldn’t figure out why namor said shuri was the first surface dweller in talokan but he had a suit. then i realized duh it was from the start of the movie 🥴

Why does no one go for the Talokanil masks

t’challa falls in love with a river tribe girl, ramonda finds comfort by sources of water I don’t find it coincidental at ALL her whole family has ties to water.

every time he issues a threat Namor is looking at Ramonda but when he sets the shell down to ask them to call? he looks at shuri.

shuri wears white while she’s working in her lab because she’s still in a mourning period.

shuri’s tribe wears red namor is represented(partially) by blue and what color does shuri wear when she’s taken to his domain? purple.

I JUST REALIZED T’CHALLA JR IS THE KID THAT WALKED UP TO RAMONDA

NAMOR IS NOT THE VILLAIN. IMMEDIATELY AFTER HE TOLD SHURI THE SURFACE WOULD ATTACK THEY CUT TO A SCENE OF THEM PLANNING TO ATTACK WAKANDA

attuma is down horrendous he ain’t even join the fight in wakanda he just went looking for okoye. STAND UP.

namor and shuri pausing to stare at each other before she shoots cause they really don’t want to fight 😐

people keep saying ross’ scenes weren’t necessary and yet fully missed that namor was proved right by his scenes

N’Jadaka TOLD YALL ramonda gave her life to save riri. (doesn’t justify namor’s actions but don’t take away her agency)

shuri’s panther ears on her helmet point down like she’s ready to pounce whereas t’challa’s pointed up showing he was docile

shuri’s actions fully show us namor’s origin and how he ends up as adamant and stubborn as he is. their hatred turned them into warmongers shuri is just able to stop herself before she does something truly irreversible.

namor is such a loser he really thought shuri was finna call him on his shellphone.

in the midst of everything she remembers holding hands with namor as they watched the sunrise…hm.

Random Thoughts I Had During the Movie:

That chairman who introduced Ramonda was fine as hell

That french lady shook her head like her men ain’t break into that lab that’s wild.

Attuma’s first entrance (on the ship) had me grinning from ear to ear like “HEY BIG DADDY!”

Namor can really be brutal as fuck. The way those agents were screaming as their helicopter was spun into the ocean was scary as hell! (i’m still on his side tho ✋🏾🫱🏾liik’ik talokan)

hi anderson cooper!

i wonder why ramonda cut her hair

when shuri told her mother K’uk’ulkan was covered in vibranium he looked at her like “oh so you looked me over?” 😁

the jibari are hilarious

mbakus very silly but he has a big heart and is clearly very wise

nah okoye is right the midnight angel suit is u g l y

i cannot fully express how annoying i find de fontaine

riri my darling baby girl i love you

okoye don’t look ashy and i’m tired of them coming at my good sis

okoye is so funny 😭

the car chase scenes are always the best in these movies

i need the wakanda forever script

attuma GROWLED at okoye just kiss already

i like that attuma got his own whale and everybody else gotta share

ross is such a smol little guy who’s scared of him 🥴

angela was acting her ass off we know this but you know who else? danai. yup. i should watch the walking dead

everybody in this movie fine as hell

nakia should be in more avengers movies

nakia grew them dreads fast

their shaman was fine too everybody is HOT

why is de fontaines hair purple she looks twelve

if namor got in my face like that i’d kiss him idk

shuri fully forgot she was wearing that man’s bracelet until it was pointed out to her

mbaku’s face when he saw that whale underwater took me out.

see namor dodging shuri’s fire makes no sense he literally stands still when he’s being fired at initially and then hits the ship fire out of the air with his spear.

riri don’t listen cause ramonda definitely told her ass to run

i just-don’t get namor sometimes because he fully could have killed the scientist and shuri and he clearly doesn’t care about eternal war he just DOESN’T DO IT.

Nakia’s funeral outfit is beautiful

i will fully admit that the beauty of tenoch blinded me to namor’s brutality. that man is vicious.

aneka is so funny

iron heart has such a cute anime suit i kinda love it and hate it

we’ll probably see a different one since she can’t take it home though.

there’s something so silly about the way shuri and mbaku start to arm wrestle

the way he said “princess” and stared at her on the ship…he wanted to fuck so bad omg.

the lighting when shuri gets stabbed is insane, it becomes less saturated and green and i really like it 😗

namor’s little butt jiggle as he fell?? lol

the dissenting wakandans and talokanil are going to be a problem moving forward. they’ve each lost people and they’re not gonna let that slide.

WHY SOMEBODY BOO WHEN ANEKA KISSED AYOS HEAD. FUCK OFF HOMOPHOBE

Final Thoughts:

I really love this movie obviously but i think Tenoch being hot kinda blinded me to how cruel Namor can really be. Cause the whole time i’m thinking, he’s hot and he’s right i’m on his side. In general he doesn’t use excessive force and he gives people ample opportunities to stop fucking with him before he really goes off tho.

I still stick with my assessment that Namor isn’t a villain and you’ve missed the point if you think he is, that his actions weren’t justified but i understand he needs to protect his people so it’s not without reason.

I don’t understand why people think shuri shouldn’t have been the black panther okoye is in the dora, nakia is a spy who else was gonna be the panther?

i don’t know exactly why but this movie excites me and i am growing to love it more than any other marvel movie. this is most likely the last time ill see it in theatres since i don’t want to make myself bored with it but i’m really thankful to ryan and co for putting this out they did chad justice

[leeenuu]

We count: the sixth month of the war, when people are streaming on air how the blood flows from our bodies.

The roar of the aircraft is low, prolonged, threatening. "Ours!" – shouts the guy from the next table. The waitress asks – "How do you know?" "They fly low – you can see our trident on the wing!", – he answers proudly. And I think that jets also fly low, when they drop to death.

I prefer to forget how shells are signed: "For Mariupol", "For Vinnytsia", "For Bucha". This is the scariest correspondence – it always has an answer, but no one is listening.

Again we met, when the war was going on. Then, as always, we'll fall in love and break up, and the war will continue. You bring me flowers, but you carry the bouquet like a weapon. I wonder how these hands evacuate the wounded. And then – how they hold kids.

Traffic lights are not working here for the sixth month. My colleague from Donetsk says that's how the war started in her hometown in 2014 – the traffic lights stopped working. Luhansk region is completely occupied, Donetsk region is under threat. In the south – partisans, the liberation of villages in the Kherson region, and again – explosions in Dnipro and Odesa. We speak with a doctor who lost her home in 2014. As calm as a surgeon, cutting me gently: "I hope there will be no occupation. I hope again." Unfortunately, I remember too well this premonition in Crimea: "I'm sure you know the feeling – how the life slowly leaves the patient's body."

Bread, water, military backpacks and uniforms are sold on the empty streets. And also vegetable seeds. It brings me hope that there will be something to grow. Again.

There is an audiobook of Serhiy Zhadan's poems in my phone:

"At the store, along with day-old bread, they sell funeral wreaths. There's no one on the street – almost everyone has gone.

No lines. Neither for bread, nor for wreaths."

His voice fades and I think, how slowly the petals fall from the flowers that you left in my house in Kyiv.

– Julia Kochetova

[heliads]

Hello to one of the loveliest people in the universe! Ehe, I’m back, and I was wondering if you could a tasm Peter Parker x reader, except this, takes place after NWH, and like, the reader’s actually spiderwoman in her universe, and she also lost her Peter (who’s basically her universe’s task Peter)? And like they’re very wary of each other at first, but then they realize they’re not threats, and eventually have some fun banter and conversation before Peter says something like “you remind me of someone” and she replies with the same? And like, they realize reader doesn’t really have a place to go, so they go to Peter’s apartment, but she’s starting to hyperventilate because this is *exactly* where her Peter used to live, and so Peter has to remove her mask, and he’s just so shocked and they basically hold each other? Ehe yes torture me with angst please -

ok ily but i have not seen nwh whoops so idk if this makes any sense but i loved the vibe of this req so i simply had to do it

masterlist

The grave is not welcoming as of late, but then again cold stone never is. Your tears don’t quite dry, but then again they never do. You should be used to this now, you think, or at least have found a way to get a better hold of yourself before now, but even after all of this time, one look at Peter Parker’s headstone is all it takes for you to break.

It wasn’t fair, how he died. It wasn’t right. Peter Parker, your wonderful Peter, the one who would walk miles with you to your car just to make sure you would get home safely, the very boy who would watch science fiction movies with you just to critique their realism, should have lived a very long and very thrilling life. He deserved awards, praise, hundreds of friends just as devoted to him as you are.

You’re certain that he did, or at least that all of that came posthumously. You know the funeral service was packed full of people who wanted to talk about him, but all you could think about was that they never managed it while he was alive. Then again, perhaps your ire was misdirected in the hopes of sparing you some of the burn. After all, you’re the reason Peter is dead, aren’t you?

In the end, you didn’t save him when he needed it the most, and that’s on you. As the resident Spider-Woman, it’s your job to take care of those in need, to protect the city and take down threats before they can grow into problems. You’ve managed it for years, but when it came down to it, you couldn’t save your boyfriend.

Distantly, you wonder if he can see you now, if he blames you for what happened half as much as you blame yourself. The fight that day should have been an easy one, just another run of the mill bad guy with some freak twist that decided to make your life difficult yet again.

The problems started when the resident bad guy started showing off his latest inhuman abilities, then Peter stumbled into the thick of things. He shouldn’t have been there, he was supposed to be across town at a conference, but one minute you were ducking for cover in an attempt to reload your web shooters and the next moment you had a picture perfect few of a New York villain bearing down on your boyfriend.

You remember that day vividly, as if you saw it on a movie theater-type big screen instead of with your own eyes. You can still feel the pull of your muscles as you threw yourself across the alleyway just in time to push Peter out of the way. You grabbed him and swung to a nearby alley, and once you were out of imminent danger you were shouting at him about what the hell he was doing there.

Peter had a snappy answer, he always did, but you could tell he was stunned by what had just happened. It was a very close call, and you thought it would be the closest he would get. The issue was that you were distracted with figuring out just why Peter was there instead of how to get him out of there. You were looking him, and you had the perfect view of his face as Peter got hit by an energy blast from the same guy you were supposed to be fighting.

The inhuman had aimed at you, but missed just perfectly and the blast ricocheted into Peter as well. You could feel the heat of the blast just under your arm, but Peter caught it straight in the chest. You watched the light fade from his eyes in one breath. One breath and he was gone, and you were more alone than you had ever been in your entire life.

It destroyed you. That was months ago, and you’re still some fragile wreck who can’t see a happy couple without being swamped by her own devastation. You took down the inhuman that killed Peter, but that doesn’t make you feel any better. The only person left to blame is yourself, and you’ve certainly got enough run time on that self loathing to make it last a lifetime.

One thing and one thing alone can possibly start to make the guilt less severe, and that’s your time as Spider-Woman. You were already fairly active on your nightly patrols, but ever since Peter died, it’s become your life. You go out in your suit morning and night, hour after hour. Your boss complained that you were taking too much time off, so you went out even more and started fudging your times in the logbook. Your family wants to see you more often, you make up excuses. Nothing matters like this does.

It’s not a healthy habit, and you know that, but what can you do? You are nothing without Peter. You needed him in every sense of the way, and you failed him. At least now you can stop people from losing their Peters. At least now no one else has to feel as crushed as you do.

You spend one last moment kneeling at Peter’s grave, then gently run a hand over his name and stand up, tugging your mask back over your head. It’s time for another nightly patrol. Already, the sun is sinking beneath the horizon, which means that you need to be ready to fight until your last breath. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough that you’ll get that end tonight.

You find your next fight within a matter of minutes. There’s yet another robbery happening down yet another street, and it feels like proof that nothing ever gets better in this city. No matter how many hours you spend stopping hijackings like this one, there’s always more. 

Still, you have a part to play, and you play it as well as you always do. You’re operating on pure muscle memory by the time you swing into the alleyway, and your words when you ask the robbers to stop and put their hands in the air are a prepared speech. They don’t listen, of course, but then again, that’s kind of what you wanted. You’ve been itching for a fight for a while now. You feel it all the time. 

You’re expecting the robbers to run further into the alleyways, but they surprise you and instead start climbing a nearby fire escape to the surrounding roofs. An interesting technique, but not one that will save them in the long run. You just swing up after them, landing on your feet and starting to run the second the soles of your boots touch a solid surface.

After that, your body goes on autopilot. There are four robbers currently running away from you; you take the nearest man down within moments, shooting a web that anchors his ankle to the ground. He stumbles and falls hard. You leap neatly over his body to continue pursuing the others. The second closest suffers from the same fate, easy.

The other two have caught on to what you’re doing and stop running, angling their guns towards you. The weapons appear to be energy based of some sort, and hum and glow like engines. One of them fires at you and you duck just in time, watching as the projectile burns a hole in the brick behind you. Once upon a time, you would have used that as an opportunity for a snappy comeback, but you’ve long since started keeping your mouth shut. There’s nothing funny about what you do anymore, not after you failed when it mattered the most.

Instead, you fire two webs at each of the men, and, crossing your arms suddenly, force the two robbers to slam into each other. They stumble to the ground, dazed, and you pace towards the one on the left. You throw him against a nearby wall, using your webs to bind him to the brick surface.

You took your eyes off of the other robber for too long, though, and judging by the energy projectile that barely misses you, he’s got his hands back on his gun. You whip around and start to fire a web at him, but you can tell that it’s too late. Is this how it ends, after all this time? A dark night, a lonely roofline, one reflex coming a little too slowly? At least you’ll see Peter again when it all falls apart. You wonder if he’ll hate you when it’s the two of you in the land of the dead, or if he’s done what you couldn’t and forgiven you.

The killing blow doesn’t come, though. A net of spider web shoots out of nowhere, tackling the guy to the ground. The web wasn’t yours, though, your fingers are still reaching for your web shooter. There’s someone else here, then, someone who’s got a similar setup as you.

You scan the horizon frantically, and see the guy on your second pass. He’s dressed in a suit that’s eerily similar to yours, blue and red with a black spider emblem across his chest. Even the black-edged ovals for his eyes look like the ones you’re staring out of right now. You stalk towards him like a caged animal, one arm raising by your side to point at him.

“Who are you? Why are you imitating me?”

The other guy rubs a hand over his masked face as if tired. “Shoot. I’m in the wrong universe, aren’t I? They dropped me off in the wrong place.”

You cock your head to the side. “Sorry, I’m not sure I’m following. What are you talking about?”

The guy spreads his hands, fumbling for a reason. “I’m not from here.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I can see that. Still doesn’t explain why you’re dressed like me, though.”

The man chuckles. “If you think about it, you’re the one dressed like me. Listen, have you ever heard of the multiverse theory?”

At your hesitant nod, he continues speaking in a rush. “Good. Great. See, I was pulled out of my universe to help with a problem, but I think I ended up in the wrong spot. You must be the Spider-Man here, right? Same way I’m the Spider-Man in my place.”

You cross your arms over your chest, still not entirely inclined to believe him. “Yeah, I’m Spider-Woman. How are you getting back to your universe, then?”

Spider-Man’s mask twitches over what you can only assume is a grimace. “Wonderful question. I have no idea. Do you happen to be in contact with any multiversal experts? I don’t know, you got any wizards around?”

You widen your eyes slowly. “Wizards? Out of curiosity, are you supposed to be freaking me out more or less? I need to be sure so I can tell you how bad of a job you’re doing.”

The guy laughs. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Let me start over. My name is Spider-Man, I’m from New York, and although I don’t really know how I’m getting home, this place seems nice enough that I might be sticking around. Are you alright with that?”

You consider that. “I don’t know. Don’t you miss your home? Don’t you want to go back?”

Spider-Man lets out a desolate sigh, the kind you’ve only heard from your lungs. “I’ve lost enough people that it doesn’t feel like home anymore. At least here I get a fresh start.”

You nod at last. “I can understand that. Once you lose the right people, nothing feels like it’s worth it anymore.”

He points at you in agreement. “You get it, then. You’ve lost some people.”

You force a smile even though he can’t see it. “My boyfriend. I should have saved him, and I didn’t. Who’d you lose?”

Spider-Man’s hands twitch at his sides, as if reaching for someone he can’t ever touch again. “My girlfriend, my parents, my uncle. Feels like there’s no end to it. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering if they’d be alive here, if this universe’s version of me didn’t become Spider-Man. Maybe I’d even get to see my best friend again.”

You hope for his sake that he manages it. “I guess it all changes based on what we did. It’s funny that there are multiple Spider-People, though. Maybe no matter what, people feel like they need to do something.”

Spider-Man hums in agreement. “That’s what I was thinking about, too. We all chose this path. Why?”

You lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. Guilt, maybe. With great power comes great responsibility.”

You smile sadly to yourself at the quote. Peter had said that to you around the time he first found out you were Spider-Woman, and it helped ease some of the stress surrounding your alternate line of work. At least your boyfriend supported you in it, although look where that got him.

Spider-Man, however, reacts strongly to your words, a quiet gasp emanating from his lungs. “You say it too, huh? ‘With great power comes great responsibility?’ I was wondering if you would. A couple other Spider-guys I knew did the same thing, I think we all hear it from somebody important, someone we don’t think we can live without until–”

He cuts himself off hastily, as of swallowing back some unspoken tide of regret. “Anyway, it’s important. My Uncle Ben said it.”

Your smile fades as you remember the day you first heard it. “My boyfriend was the one to come up with it. Guess that matches the pattern.”

You glance away, and Spider-Man must be able to tell that the conversation is steering into troubled waters, because he quickly guides the topic back to something more palatable.

“It’s cool that there are all these connections, though. More than I expected.” He says.

You nod absentmindedly. “Yeah, I’m kind of curious about that, actually, how many things are similar between your life and mine. I got my powers because I was wandering around Oscorp. My best friend, the guy who ended up being my boyfriend, was wandering around and I was trying to catch up to him. He went right, I went left, and I ended up in–”

Spider-Man cuts you off excitedly. “A room full of spiders? Oh my God, I did the exact same thing. Talk about creepy. I know there was a scientific reason, but why was that room there? And why was it so easy to find?”

You shudder. “Tell me about it. Literally the worst experience of my life. I mean, having powers is cool, but so many spiders.”

Spider-Man laughs, and you swear you’ve heard it before, just out of reach to name. “I’m glad somebody else went through that. Nobody wants me to complain about that part, although I feel like I should. Disgusting. It’s interesting that your friend was there, though. Mine was too.”

You tilt your head to the side, thinking. “Interesting. It’s cool to think about all the different universes that could have been created had everyone made slightly different choices. How many universes are there, anyway? Millions? Billions?”

Spider-Man shrugs. “Infinities, maybe, and then more. There is no end to what the multiverse decides to create. Even if I can’t make it back to mine, I like your universe.”

He glances up at the sky, as if noticing the dark sky for the first time. “It’s getting late. We should probably go our separate ways.”

He turns to leave, but you stay on the roof. You don’t really have a place to go. As it turns out, being Spider-Woman full time is not great for paying rent. You’ve been crashing at a friend’s place for a while now, although you had to leave today because you could tell her patience was wearing thin. You were supposed to book a hotel room today until you could find another place, but you never got around to it.

Spider-Man doesn’t ask about that, thankfully, but he does turn back to you. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind catching up with another Spider-Person. Come back to my place?”

You smile under your mask, jogging to catch up with him. “You got an apartment so quickly? I thought you just arrived in this universe.”

Spider-Man nods. “No, I was surprised too. I got the exact same place I had in my universe, which was weird. The landlord looked confused, said something about how he thought I was leaving, but he let me rent the rooms again. Who knows, maybe the version of me in this universe just moved out.”

You shrug. “Well, I’m glad you got your place. Anything for some sort of normalcy, right?”

Spider-Man shudders. “Tell me about it. Here, follow me, it’s actually pretty close by.”

He leaps off the roof with a delicate movement, as if to him flying and falling were one and the same. He catches himself with a rope of spider web shot to a nearby building, and you follow him, both of you swinging in tandem to the beats of the city. Spider-Man directs you through turn after turn, eventually coming up on a window of a familiar apartment building.

You wait for him to unlatch the window, both of you perched on the fire escape. You look around while Spider-Man fiddles with the lock, and your heart freezes in your chest. You know this exact view, you spent so long looking out this particular window with someone very close to you.

Indeed, when Spider-Man finally gets the window open you all but throw yourself over the ledge. No, it’s true. This is the exact place. This is Peter Parker’s exact place. You swear you feel your breathing speed up to double time, and your head feels as light as a cloud.

A hand descends on your shoulder, steadying you. When you look up, Spider-Man’s regarding you with the best concerned expression he can manage through the mask. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” He asks, albeit somewhat pointlessly. You’re obviously not alright in the slightest, but you still find yourself nodding anyway.

“I think so. It’s just– well, this is my boyfriend’s old place. I haven’t been here since he died, and I didn’t expect to be back so soon. This is the same building, the same floor, even. This is where he lived, and–”

And where he stopped living, once you couldn’t save him. This is the empty apartment you had to clean out, where you had to load bags full of stuff into a taxi and take it to his aunt’s home. This is where you had to tell the landlord that he had to cancel the rent, although you were so overcome that you couldn’t even bear to tell the guy that Peter had died, only managed something about how he was moving really quickly.

The landlord. The landlord, which Spider-Man just said seemed surprised to rent the place out again. That couldn’t be, though, because the only reason the landlord would be surprised would be if Peter was back, and–

Spider-Man appears to have reached the same conclusion as you. “Wait, what was the name of your boyfriend? I need to know. What was his name?”

His voice is desperate, just as desperate as yours must be as well. The words come out in a choked gasp:

“Peter Parker.”

Spider-Man rears back as if you’ve slapped him. Then he’s shaking his head furiously. “Who are you? You said you were my friend. Who are you?”

You can’t manage another syllable, so you reach up to tug off your mask. Your hands are shaking too badly, though, and all you can do is scratch at the fabric. He gets what you’re trying to do, though, and takes it off for you. His gasp echoes around the apartment, eddying up ghosts that should have long stayed dead.

“Y/N?”

You know it from the way he says your name, even though it’s no longer tainted with all the memories you’ve made. No one else has ever said those letters in that exact same way, no one except the boy you’ve loved with all of your heart and buried in the cemetery three blocks away.

“Peter?”

He nods, swallowing hard as he pulls off his own mask. The tears start the second you see his face. It’s him. It’s Peter. He’s still the same after all of this, still the boy you love. His hair curls in the same patterns, shines the same way under these familiar lights. You have seen him a thousand times in this exact room, maybe a million, but never like this.

His hand drifts forward unconsciously to wipe the tears from your face. “I can’t believe it. In this universe, you’re the one who had to deal with all this.”

You laugh even as the tears fall harder. “And in my universe, you’re dead, Peter. I didn’t save you. You needed me, and I couldn’t do it.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

You turn away. “How could you possibly know that?”

Peter’s crossing the room hurriedly so you’re forced to look at him. “Because I know you, Y/N, and I know that you’d never give up on a person if you thought you could help them. I know that even in a universe where you’re not Spider-Woman. I know it because I know you.”

You shake your head slowly. “You don’t even love me in your universe.”

It’s a cruel thing to say, especially to this boy who has only ever tried to help you. After all this time, though, you’re still so selfish over him that you’d never want him to be anyone else’s but yours.

Peter, however, just smiles. “I always wanted it to be you. In my universe, when Gwen died, I couldn’t bring myself to love anyone else, no matter how much I wished I could love you. I’m glad that your version of me could do it. At least one of me could do it.”

You reach out a trembling arm and Peter folds you into him. The two of you fit together just as easily as always, even without the memories or the years that shaped you. How long have you needed Peter? Just as long as he’s needed you, perhaps.

When you manage to look up from where you’ve tucked your head under his chin, you notice that Peter’s gazing gently at you, too. Neither of you are able to voice the words aloud, but you know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s what you’re thinking, too: let’s give this another chance, for all of us. For the Peter you lost and the Y/N that he left behind. For all of the memories that have been split between the two of you. At last, you get the do over you’ve wanted for so long.

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