#while all these people do none of that and yet

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Congratulations to TEAM CHEESE for winning the popular vote on the Charcuterie poll!

[cheqorb]

Sotto Voce.

Gaslighting everyone into believing you’re a really shit footballer because seeing people be impressed by your sheer lack of skill is more fun than being a genius.

FEAT. Bastard München ensemble

NOTES. uhhaua cross posted on ao3 (same user) but ajyway, thought this idea was funny and because of this lingering feeling of sadness i haha managed to Complete this?? Gosh im beside myself with worry!!

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

Isagi thinks he might be seeing things. Maybe all the relentless training in Blue Lock has finally caught up to him, leading him into a football-induced delirium, because he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at right now.

You’re moving across the field with a fluidity he’s only seen in pro-level players, doing tricks and turns he’s pretty sure aren’t even in his playbook. You glide past the defence, controlling the ball with a finesse that’s nearly supernatural — hell, he thinks even someone of Rin’s calibre would be breaking a sweat to try and keep up.

And you look bored while doing it. Eyes half-lidded, posture almost lazy, as if this is just another walk in the park and not you showing off world-class football technique.

Isagi’s mind races to make sense of this. You’d always been, well, normal to him.

Sometimes you’d play in a match, most other times you’d sit out on the sidelines. And he’s usually pretty sharp about these things, so it must’ve been because you just… didn’t stand out.

Yet here you are, pulling off flawless plays with little more than a mild yawn, as if winning against the top players here would barely register on your radar. Maybe it’s just luck, some freakish one-off, right?

… Nope. You just drilled another perfect goal into the top corner of the net.

He snaps out of his thoughts only when you suddenly stop mid-play, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, there’s a flicker of panic in your gaze and he opens his mouth, not even sure what he’s about to say.

“Y/N-”

You’re stomping towards him before he can even process the whole thing, your pace quicker and more full of menace than he’s used to seeing on you. You stop just short of him, tilt your head slightly, and in the calmest voice, say, “You saw nothing.”

He tries to stammer out something, but you leave soon afterwards.

────

Tripping over the ball is harder than it looks, but after enough practice, you’ve perfected the art of falling in a normal fashion. To most people, it’s convincing. Prior to a few days ago, you’d say all people but there’s a certain someone who entertains himself by boring holes into the back of your skull with an intense, unblinking stare.

You can feel it. Isagi waiting for you to slip up.

Actually slip up, instead of the falls you’ve gotten so good at imitating. It’s detestable, honestly. You’re trying to keep things as they’ve always been, and he just wants to come in and mess with the status quo!

Luckily for you, Igaguri’s too much of an idiot to harbour the same suspicions. Right now he’s too busy practically doubling over with laughter on the floor. The guy is probably thrilled to finally see someone playing the fool even more than he does. And as much as he’s a pain, he’s also the kind of person who makes perfect cover — play the role of an idiot, laugh it off with him, and everyone’s none the wiser.

So, in spite of your (what most would call) vindictive description of him, you do believe that some sort of strange pleasure is to be gained from surrounding yourself with people like him. Though perhaps that also makes you a terrible person.

The feeling is nothing like the rationale that Noa preaches about so often. It’s an undeniable truth in your heart.

Which is why you avoid the people who actually know what they’re doing on the field like the plague.

Yukimiya, on the other hand, is way too polite to laugh outright. He at least has the common sense to stifle it, reaching out a hand to help you off the ground with a quiet charm that makes people swoon. No wonder he’s a model.

Now, the imaginary audience in your mind might be wondering why you’re talking with a guy like him? Your answer: he’s not as notable ever since he patched things up with Isagi. He’s now the kind of person you can talk to without raising any brows. Again, it sounds harsh but you see it in a positive light. He’s becoming just the kind of person you adore most!

“Try and keep a close eye for stuff on the ground, alright?”

You flash him a grin, nodding. “You know me, just a total klutz all the time,” you reply as your usual happy-go-lucky self, making sure to project just loud enough for Isagi to hear.

And out of the corner of your eye, you catch that familiar look of suspicion deepening.

────

The silence that follows is brutal. Hiori and Kurona exchange a look that’s way too long for Isagi’s comfort. After finishing whatever telepathic debate they have with each other, they both stare back at him like he’s just pitched the most psychotic theory imaginable (which isn’t entirely untrue).

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he mutters, deflating a bit.

Hiori’s quick to reply, but Isagi is aware of the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not that we don’t believe you. But, ya have to admit, it’s strange to hear Y/N… of all people, doing something like that.”

That’s code for what the fuck are you talking about, Isagi concludes with a grimace, his eyes shifting to Kurona hopefully.

“Crazy. Crazy.”

Kurona’s tone is deadpan, his gaze distant as if he’s trying not to laugh. Great.

Isagi sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he is the one who’s going crazy here. It shouldn’t even bother him this much. It’s not like you’re particularly close! If anything, he can barely remember a conversation between the two of you that went beyond asking if you’d seen so and so.

And, judging by the responses he’s getting from both of his teammates, neither of them can figure out why he’s fixated on this either.

────

Noa is going on and on about practice drills, how to follow his instructions precisely, something about rationality and technique, blah, blah, blah. You stifle a yawn. If this is what being in one of the top clubs means, you should’ve begged Ego to be in Barcha instead. At least Lavinho would’ve been fun.

You hear his coaching style isn’t by any means phenomenal if you’re trying to improve your skills, but good thing you’re not planning on doing anything of the sort!

And just when you think you might actually pass out from boredom, you see Isagi walking over. Again. He’s approaching with that same cautious look, but it’s not enough to make him think twice about bothering you apparently. That’s also something that bugs you, he’s never a quitter.

You flash him an oblivious smile. “Oh, Isagi! Whatcha up to? Need anything from little ol’ me?”

You lay it on thick, voice dripping with cheerful innocence. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you swear you can see a flicker of annoyance on his face. That’s new. Your words have the opposite effect than what you had originally intended.

“Listen, I know what I saw, alright? You’re not fooling anyone.”

He launches into a whole spiel about how he’s seen you pull off moves that only high-level players can pull off, how he doesn’t care if it’s part of some large game you’re playing, how you should be using your skill to distinguish yourself.

…You really don’t give a shit, and in regards to his comments, you personally disagree! What’s the fun in doing all of that?

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over with wide, guileless eyes. Sure, you’re a little flattered he’s this invested in uncovering your “secret,” but the other 99% of you is totally unhappy.

When he finally wraps up his little speech, you just give him a half-hearted shrug with a smugness that he doesn’t miss.

“And who’s going to believe you?”

────

Kaiser likes to think of Isagi as predictable, average — someone who might fancy himself a hero but is ultimately just another small-time player waiting to be crushed. It’s almost laughable how seriously he takes himself. In fact, the only thing remotely worth mentioning about him recently is this bizarre fixation he seems to have developed on you.

He’s overheard your exchanges, and in short, they’re pathetic.

Isagi rambles on about how you’re hiding something, clinging to that delusion like it’s going to benefit him somehow. The psychology-lover inside him finds it almost fascinating in how utterly absurd it sounds.

So, when Kaiser spots you chatting with the ever despairing Grim (laughing so hard you have to hold back tears), he figures it wouldn’t be wrong to call you at least a little insane. Part of him wonders what humour could be found in the man’s deplorable monologues.

He figures he might as well join in on the entertainment. You’re far from his usual company, but you’ll do. For now. Moseying on over, his signature smirk is already in place.

He’s rewarded by the way your eyes immediately narrow in irritation, a look he’s all too familiar with and thoroughly enjoys on anyone really. Grim, blissfully unaware of what he’s leaving you to, heads off, and now it’s just you and Kaiser.

Leaning in closer, he asks, “What little secret of yours has got under Yoichi’s skin so badly?”

Kaiser waits, watching for the faintest flicker of reaction but you stay silent. How boring.

But! Not one to give up easily, he continues with a more direct jab, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. The one where he acts like he knows everything there is to know about everyone. “That you’re really skilled, and this whole clueless act of yours is just a cheap facade?”

He raises a brow, as if daring you to admit it. To his delight, you lift your head, finally meeting his gaze albeit with an uncomfortably polite smile.

“I was just surprised you’re interested in something like that. But, Isagi’s a total liar. Isn’t he just so annoying? I can’t stand people who just don’t know when to give up, and I’m sure you agree.”

It’s not often someone catches him off-guard, and though he recovers quickly, the flicker of surprise is still there. Kaiser also sees opportunity however. He could work with this.

“Well, if you’re not a fan of Yoichi then feel free to join my side then,” he drawls, offering the position like it’s a dream come true. In his world, he’s already the star; what better way to elevate himself than to recruit someone.

“Ah, no. You’re both terrible.”

He can’t tell what’s worse; you lumping him together with Isagi, or the fact that you immediately walk off without giving him a chance to get the last word in.

���───

“It’s like asking me if I prefer cat shit or dog shit. It’s still shit, and there’s no point in picking one over the other.”

You toss the comparison out to Kiyora, of all people — a bit of a waste since he just stares blankly at you, not saying a word. Pretty cute, actually, in a clueless sort of way.

The reality is that, at the moment, if you want a shot at the regulars, you’re supposed to cosy up to either Isagi or Kaiser. And as for everyone else? They’re can either fuck off or pray for a miracle.

Of course, you couldn’t care less about making the regulars. But every now and then, you forget there are people around you who do care, people with actual ambitions. Which is why you pause when you catch sight of Hiori and Kurona.

“Oh, Hiori and Kurona,” you point out the obvious.

They both glance your way, casual and relaxed, which gives you the impression that Isagi hasn’t roped them into his latest paranoid theories. Yet.

“Are ya heading back to training already?” Hiori asks, his soft voice and accent making it sound more like an invitation than a question. There’s a kindness to it that’s almost unsettling here in Blue Lock, but you return his smile with one of your own nevertheless.

Kiyora gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, brief and to the point.

You’re half-considering some excuse to slip away and do your own thing, but there’s something about the way Hiori is looking at you that draws your attention. Unlike Isagi, he’s way better at hiding it, but you can still feel his curiosity prickle under your skin.

You give him a lazy smile, leaning into the idea. “I’m already so tired from this morning’s training,” you lie, exaggerating just enough. “Honestly, going to bed early sounds great right about now.”

Morning training was barely enough to get you sweating, just a couple of warm-up drills for the afternoon matches. You doubt they have any clue what you’re talking about, which is exactly how you want it.

There’s a quiet pause, and then Hiori breaks it with a gentle but firm nudge. “Well, if yer looking to get on the regulars consistently, training more could be worth a shot.”

You force a smile that probably looks more akin to a grimace. This is exactly why you don’t like smart people. They poke and prod until your story frays at the edges. He definitely asked that on purpose! With a heavy sigh, you end up walking with them toward the pitch, despite every nerve in you screaming to veer off.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a test.

[tossawary]

Recent "Star Trek" reboot universes have really tried to sell me on three different romances for Spock with other TOS characters whom he did not have romantic relationships (at least not positive ones) with in TOS, which makes it particularly annoying when some fans try to squirm away from the idea of ST ever doing a future reboot or remake in which Spock/Kirk are explicitly queer.

Like, "But it's not in the original! They want to be faithful to the original!" really, REALLY does not pass the "I think you might just be discomforted by queerness and you should work on that, rather than making appeals to the authority of textual accuracy to avoid being called a homophobe or transphobe" check here. Because it's not as though these reboots care about perfect faithfulness on pretty much any other front. We'll accept that the costumes and special effects get updated to move with the times, we'll accept wildly different characterization choices that essentially give these characters new personalities, we'll accept new timelines that change the entire political map of the galaxy, but you as a fan draw the line at "What if this character was bisexual this time?" Really???

To be clear, I am not trying to dunk on Spock/Uhura, Spock/Chapel, or Spock/T'Pring here, I am merely trying to illustrate a frustrating double-standard. TOS Uhura does notably flirt with Spock several times! I see it! I remember TOS Chapel's feelings for Spock being one-sided, but I also don't think it's a bad thing to try to update TOS's more misogynistic writing choices regarding female characters. TOS T'Pring did... kind of try to kill Spock because she didn't want to marry him, but again, I don't necessarily think it's immediately a bad thing to try to explore her as a character and her betrothal to Spock. It's fine! It's fine by me to explore new takes in new AUs.

It's just that none of that evidence from TOS for those relationships holds much of a candle to whatever the fuck Kirk and Spock had going on to inspire The Premise. "Amok Time" is an Experience. There's only so many times that Kirk can say something like, "The cost [of abandoning Spock] would have been my soul," before you want to put your face in your hands. They are taking shiny pebbles from TOS and trying their very best to sell them to me as the basis for romantic relationships in reboots, sure, while they are standing in the shadow of Spirk Evidence Mountain (TOS).

(Yes, I have seen the recent "Unification" short film. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, I will not consider Spirk "officially canon" until all plausible deniability for the squirmy folks has been completely, explicitly destroyed by a HUMAN kiss onscreen.)

And okay, I must admit, at the moment, I don't actually want Spirk to eventually happen in "Strange New Worlds" now that they've finally met. I'm mostly indifferent to their Spock and Kirk actors, personally, and the writing for every canonical romantic relationship in both SNW and "Discovery" so far has gotten a solid "well, they certainly are standing next to each other" from me. (Yes, even the gay marriage in "Discovery". I just haven't been into it so far.) I think the writers would fumble Spirk if they tried it in this specific show and then annoying fans would use the fumble as "evidence" never to try to do Spirk or queer retakes on other TOS characters ever again, or as "proof" against other queer ST in other shows characters generally.

I'm mostly just mildly annoyed that I have to keep watching Spock specifically, famously read by many people as a queer man, be straight and messy about it, especially when there has not really been a significant queer relationship onscreen in SNW yet, unless you count M'Benga's daughter Rukiya and her glow cloud friend named Debra, which I personally don't, honestly. I'd like an onscreen relationship with a main character with zero plausible deniability. There's definitely nothing yet that comes remotely close to the screentime that Spock/Chapel, Spock/T'Pring, and Kirk/La'an have all been given so far, unfortunately. (Sulu is not here yet. Scotty has just shown up. If Scotty gets to make out with a guy next season, or Uhura or Ortegas gets to make out with a lady, without it being part of some god-like-being's fantasy world, then I may be satisfied.) (Also, yes, I am aware of queer characters and relationships in other "Star Trek" shows, thanks. I very much enjoyed Mariner having her incredibly silly breakup with her girlfriend in "Lower Decks".)

"Star Trek" is one of those properties where some people's double-standards regarding romantic interpretations of the original series really jump out. "They can't do Kirk/Spock because they want to be faithful to the original!" Get real.

[artemisia-black]

The Black Family ‘Madness’ Trope: A Critical Analysis

I will start this meta by saying I’m not the fandom morality police, and people can write and explore what they want. 

However, we sometimes need to unpack popular tropes in order to examine where they come from, what societal trends they reflect, and what literary traditions they speak to.

In this case, I want to explore the “Black family madness” trope and its implications, particularly its ties to the Gothic literary tradition, ableism, and gendered narratives of mental health. 

Importantly, the term “madness” is so profoundly loaded.  It has historically been used to dismiss, pathologise, and other individuals experiencing mental distress, stripping away their humanity and turning them into objects of fear or ridicule or a source of morbid entertainment. Even today, it often conflates vastly different experiences `(mental illness, trauma, grief) into a single, reductive concept.

When viewed in the context of the Black family, fandom uses ‘madness’ as an undefined, catch-all label. It’s thrown around to broadly explain behaviour, dysfunction, or cruelty without any meaningful exploration of what it actually entails. This vagueness is deeply problematic, as it reduces mental distress to a simplistic, monolithic concept rather than recognising the nuanced and varied experiences it represents. 

This lack of specificity gives it an almost caricatured quality, evoking characters like Renfield from Dracula, where madness becomes an aesthetic of grotesquerie rather than a nuanced reflection of mental health.

And this warrants critical examination.

1.0 The consanguinity of it all.

I have to start with science, as much of the discourse around “Black family madness” focuses on inbreeding or consanguinity, with a particular focus on the marriage of Walburga and Orion (who are second cousins)/ 

However, this idea doesn’t hold up under scrutiny—either scientifically or narratively.

Second cousins share about 3.125% of their DNA, a negligible amount from a genetic perspective.

 To put this into context, the general population shares, on average, about 1% of their genetic material with any random individual, meaning second-cousin marriages increase genetic overlap only slightly. Even first-cousin marriages, which share 12.5% of DNA, while not advised, do not guarantee the passing on of recessive disorders or significant genetic risk. This is due to the role of epigenetics and genetic variability during zygote formation, which can influence the expression of genes and mitigate the inheritance of certain recessive traits. In the case of second-cousin marriages, where the genetic overlap is even smaller, the likelihood of hereditary issues is further reduced (although it does increase the odds within a small community it’s not a guarantee). 

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Orion and Walburga are the only example of a second-cousin marriage in the Black family tree, making it strange that “madness” is so broadly attributed to the family as a whole. 

Other family members married into other pureblood families including the Potters, Malfoys, Longbottoms, and Macmillans—none of whom are labelled as “mad” in fandom discourse.

Also, Bellatrix who often does bear the brunt of madness discourse, is not directly descended from Orion and Walburga and, therefore, wouldn’t be affected by this supposed hereditary instability (yet she is frequently framed as the epitome of “Black family madness.”)

Futhermore, we need to confront an uncomfortable truth: genetics, as a field, is relatively new. For most of human history, we had no understanding of DNA, recessive genes, or the risks of consanguinity. The reality is that most of us are far more products of consanguinity than we’d like to admit. Before modern transportation, people lived in small, isolated communities, often marrying within their local network (which frequently meant distant relatives). Yet humanity persisted, and the widespread dysfunction assumed in discussions of the Black family’s genetic "madness" is not reflected in the reality of human history.

This overemphasis on consanguinity also carries echoes of Victorian pseudoscience, where inherited “madness” was often used to stigmatise families and individuals as morally or biologically corrupt. 

2.0 Abelism but make it gothic

Finally, moving away from science (and my own flashbacks of having to wear a lab coat every day), it’s important to examine how the “Black family madness” trope fits within Gothic literary traditions—and how fandom has amplified it.

The Blacks are steeped in Gothic tropes. They are a family who has crumbled under the weight of their own hubris, trapped in a decaying house filled with bottles of blood and knives (ngl, it is a vibe). Their tragedy is almost operatic (someone really needs to seance Puccini and get him to write The Fall of the House of Black).

Fandom’s embrace of the “madness” trope often centres on Walburga’s portrait, where she is described as shrieking, claw-like, and grotesque. This imagery has been seized upon as evidence of hereditary instability within the Black family. However, it’s worth noting that canon never confirms this idea. Instead, Walburga’s depiction leans heavily on Gothic conventions, where madness often serves as shorthand for moral or hereditary corruption rather than a nuanced exploration of mental health.

This framing, while aesthetically in line with Gothic traditions, leans heavily into ableist narratives. By turning mental illness into spectacle, it dehumanises characters and perpetuates harmful real-world stigmas about mental health. Madness becomes something grotesque, isolating individuals and reducing them to objects of voyeuristic fascination—cautionary tales rather than complex individuals.

And yet, this framing isn’t applied equally across the family. Male characters like Regulus or Orion are rarely labelled as mad, despite their struggles or dysfunctions. Similarly, Narcissa, who arguably embodies the Wizarding World’s ideals of femininity (read: motherhood), is spared this label. This selective application reveals how the Gothic’s obsession with madness intersects with its deeply gendered lens, which we’ll explore next

2.1 Gothic Tropes and Gendered Madness

In Gothic literature, madness often has a distinctly gendered lens, with women’s emotional and mental health struggles frequently pathologised as symbols of hysteria or instability. This tradition continues in the portrayal of Black family women, who bear the brunt of the “madness” trope.

Some fandom interpretations wouldn’t look out of place at a Victorian doctor’s convention where they’re designing vibrators to treat “hysteria.” Female characters’ grief, anger, or ideological conviction are persistently reduced to vague notions of madness, as if their emotions are inherently excessive or irrational. Instead of nuanced examinations, their struggles are framed as aberrations, fitting neatly into the trope of the “hysterical woman.”

This framing erases the complexities of Black family women, leaning on misogynistic traditions where women’s mental health is weaponised against them. Their distress is rarely explored as a response to systemic oppression, personal loss, or ideological indoctrination but is instead transformed into spectacle—a way to dehumanise them and dismiss their perspectives.

Characters like Walburga and Bellatrix are cast as emotionally unbalanced, their behaviours dismissed as irrational shrieking rather than the product of their circumstances and choices. This pattern is far from new; Gothic literature has long used the “madwoman” archetype to punish women who deviate from societal norms.

Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre is a prime example. Locked in an attic, her “madness” is attributed to supposed sexual excesses and moral degeneracy, reinforcing Victorian beliefs that tied women’s mental health to their purity—or lack thereof. Stripped of her humanity, Bertha becomes a monstrous figure, a cautionary tale about the dangers of female desire and independence. Similarly, in The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman critiques how patriarchal systems dismissed women’s mental health. The protagonist’s postpartum depression is labelled as “hysteria,” and her prescribed “rest cure” exacerbates her decline.

These tropes are mirrored in the portrayal of Black family women. Walburga’s grief, anger, and ideological rigidity are reduced to insanity, rendering her a shrieking, clawed portrait rather than a woman grappling with immense loss. Bellatrix’s fanaticism and violence are similarly dismissed as unhinged madness, ignoring the ideological indoctrination and personal choices that shaped her.

Such portrayals flatten these characters, perpetuating harmful cultural narratives and the “hysterical woman” trope ultimately delegitimises women’s voices and experiences. 

The Gothic’s obsession with tainted bloodlines and hereditary madness also intersects with colonial anxieties about purity and degeneration. Victorian Gothic literature often used madness to represent racial and cultural “otherness,” dehumanising those considered outside the norm.

In conclusion, tropes like this need a critical eye. It’s important to recognise where pervasive ideas come from and what they’re perpetuating, both in fiction and beyond. These are just stories, yes, but what is fiction if not a reflection of reality? When we allow tropes like “Black family madness” to go unexamined, we risk reinforcing harmful stereotypes and flattening characters into tired archetypes

[justagalwhowrites]

Turkey Trouble - A TSATS Thanksgiving One Shot

You try to make Thanksgiving dinner for your newly adopted niece, Ellie, but need some help from Joel. A one shot set in the The Savage and the Sanctuary universe.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel Miller x Movie Star!Female Reader (from The Savage and the Sanctuary)

Length: 1.7k

CW: SFW; lil angst; modern no outbreak AU but Sarah is still dead (sorry Joel); NO SMUT; no use of Y/N; whole fic this is set in has mature themes and will have smut so minors DNI 18+ only

A/N: You can thank @diversemediums for this because she gave me the brain rot. This would be harder to read as a stand alone fic but it can be done with the understanding that Joel is reader's bodyguard and they have an antagonistic relationship. Reader has recently adopted her best friend's daughter, Ellie, after her friend's death. I'm not sure yet if this is canon or not but it could be? I haven't written to this time in the story yet but I THINK this is about where they'll be emotionally at Thanksgiving.

Joel hated Thanksgiving. 

He used to like it. Back when he was a father he liked it. He and Sarah would watch the parade, he’d make cinnamon rolls and the whole dinner spread, Tommy would bring over burnt mac and cheese and the three of them would go to Waffle House and to pick out a Christmas tree the next morning. 

Now, it was all a reminder of everything he’d lost, of just how little he had left to live for. 

So he took his time getting out of bed on Thanksgiving morning, not looking forward to spending the day missing something he could never have again, something that seemed even more painful when he was facing it with you and Ellie. 

But, eventually, his need for coffee forced him to move and he padded to the kitchen, not bothering to change out of the flannel pants and t-shirt he’d slept in. 

Ellie was on the couch with a mug of cocoa and a cinnamon roll, the parade on and she smirked at him. 

“Well don’t you look pretty in the morning,” she teased. 

“It’s Thanksgiving,” he said, trying to not take his foul mood out on the kid he’d become overly fond of in the last few months. “Not in the mood for a fashion show today.” 

“Oh so the jeans are a fashion show,” she said. “Got it.” 

He rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. 

“Careful,” she called after him. “She’s in a mood.” 

“Great,” he muttered, pressing on, anyway. 

You were, indeed, in a mood, standing at your massive kitchen island with a turkey that was far too big for the number of people you were feeding, frowning at a recipe, your hands covered in butter. 

Joel snorted. 

“The hell are you doin’?” 

You looked up to find him, seemingly surprised to find him there.

“Making a turkey,” you said. “What does it look like?” 

“Looks like you’re making a mess,” he said, going around you for the mugs and pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“Well, cooking is messy,” you said, chin up defiantly. 

“Not that messy,” he said, smirking a little as he leaned back against the counter, crossing an arm over his chest while he drank his coffee. “Where’s Esmo.” 

“It’s Thanksgiving,” you said, incredulous. “I’m not about to ask her to work.” 

“Right,” he said, even though he definitely should have seen that coming when he thought about it. “You ever made a Thanksgiving dinner before?” 

“None of your business,” you said, going back to the turkey and trying to smear butter over it and failing. 

“It is if I’m stuck using this kitchen,” he said. “You’re gonna get salmonella everywhere.”

You glared at him. 

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” you said. “And all I have to do is follow the recipe, so…” 

Joel shoved himself off the counter and looked over your shoulder, down at the recipe. It was not, as he’d expected, some bullshit celebrity cookbook but a simple, handwritten index card. 

He skimmed the instructions and realized that there were parts missing that were probably simple assumptions that you just didn’t know about. 

“Where’s this from?” He asked. 

“Anna,” you said. “Ellie’s mom. She’s hosted Thanksgiving and made a legitimately amazing turkey, Ellie loved it even as a little kid. I should have paid more attention last year but I was stupid and I didn’t and I just want Ellie to have a normal Thanksgiving and I have Anna’s recipe and I just need to figure it out…”

Joel’s chest tightened at that. You wanted Ellie to have a good Thanksgiving, a holiday that was like the ones she had before her mother died. She deserved that. And Joel understood why you’d be dead set on being the one to give it to her. 

He cleared his throat before he got too choked up, trying to remind himself of the distance he’d been struggling to maintain with you. 

“Well, you’re doing it wrong,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. 

You glared at him. 

“Unless you’re some Thanksgiving dinner expert…” 

“Made more than you have,” he said, almost smug. 

“Really,” you said brows raised, incredulous. He shrugged. “You’ve made a turkey.” 

“Sure,” he said. “Plenty. Not sure if you know this but most people don’t got private chefs at their beck and call…” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked. 

“I wasn’t aware you were offering,” you said. 

“Well,” he shrugged. “I am.” 

You ground your teeth for moment before you sighed, literally throwing up your hands. 

“Fine,” you said. “Show me.” 

“Well,” he said, putting his cup down. “For starters…” 

He stuck his hand inside the cavity of the bird and found the neck, pulling it free and holding it up. 

“You gotta take this out.” 

You laughed and groaned. 

“Jesus,” you said. “Alright, Big Miller, show me how it’s done.” 

Joel had to give you credit, you’d done a better job than he’d expected once he took a closer look at the bird. He helped get the rest of dinner ready to go, giving you smaller tasks to do while he managed the turkey. With the two of you working together, you were both able to make it to the living room before the parade was done, sitting on either side of Ellie and watching the musical acts perform and the floats go by. 

Part of him hurt, sitting there with a girl who wasn’t his daughter doing something that had once felt sacred. He didn’t let himself hurt like that anymore, he tried to drown it or shove it down deep as best he could but sometimes he just couldn’t. He couldn’t now. 

But, for some reason, it didn’t bother him the same way this time. Hearing Ellie make a bad pun (“Did you know they took turkey off the menu for Thanksgiving? I suspect fowl play.”), watching you bob your head in time to a musical number, smelling the turkey once it had been in the oven for a bit, even the taste of the coffee with the cinnamon roll warmed something inside him. The pain of loss was still there but so was this strange sense that it didn’t need to consume all of him. That there could be moments worth living for, things that weren’t defined by the missing pieces - even if that piece felt like everything. 

You got the hang of basting relatively quickly and Joel showed you how to make the other Thanksgiving staples, things that he’d once made for his daughter that he was now making for the girl who had become yours. When Elise, Ellie’s grandmother, came over that afternoon, things had come together well. 

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” You asked Joel as you arranged the last of the dishes on the laden dining room table. “You don’t strike me as the chef type.” 

Joel looked at you for a moment and considered telling you the truth, at least for a second. Part of him wanted you to know this, know him. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, her name getting stuck in his throat. 

Instead he just shrugged, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes. 

“Tommy ain’t much of a cook,” he said. “When our mom died, Thanksgiving didn’t make itself.” 

You cocked your head at him for a moment, like you were trying to decide if he was telling the truth, and then nodded slowly, like you were filing information away. 

“Well, thank you,” you said. “You really did save the day.” 

He shrugged again and took his place at the table with you, Ellie and Elise. 

When the meal was over and the dishes were done, he tried to keep to his room but instead found himself drawn away, something inside him tugging him toward the rest of the world. He went to the living room and found you on the couch, your legs tucked alongside yourself as you watched a movie. 

“Leftovers are in the fridge,” you said, barely glancing his way. 

He grunted and acted like he was walking toward the kitchen but, instead, stopped behind the couch, watching the movie, too. 

“What is this?” He asked eventually. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him and then back at the screen. 

“Love, Actually,” you said. “I used to watch it with Anna after Ellie was in bed on Thanksgiving. Have you seen it?” 

“Heard of it,” he said. “Ain’t seen it, though.” 

“It’s these individual stories about all these different kinds of love. I’m only a few minutes in if you want to watch,” you said, looking at him almost hopefully. He was taken aback, silent for a beat too long and you shook your head. “Never mind…” 

“No,” he said quickly. “Just… yeah, I can watch.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like I’m going fuckin’ black Friday shopping in the morning.” 

He sat on the opposite end of the massive couch from you but, over time, drifted closer until the two of you were beside each other. Not touching but a sense of familiarity he wasn’t used to anymore hanging over you both. 

“So,” you said when the movie ended, tears clinging to your eyelashes. “What’d you think?” 

“Not bad,” he said. “Not sure it’s my thing but… not bad.” 

You smiled a little at that. 

“I should get to bed though,” he said. 

“Right,” you said, drying your eyes as he got up. “Hey, Joel?” 

“Hm.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “For everything you did today. I’d have fucked it all up without your help and Ellie deserves better and just… thank you.” 

“Sure,” Joel said. “It… it was nice. Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a while.” 

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. 

He nodded, the truth of that clutching hard at his chest, just how much you and Ellie had come to mean to him in the months he’d been protecting you, this keen vulnerability settling in him at that thought. 

But he’d deal with that later. He wasn’t going to let it ruin shit now. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It was.’

[milktiicup]

HEH I SAW YOU ASKING FOR REQUESTS SO.,,

How about a scenario where in an alternate universe, maybe, reader is a complete hikikomori and HATES to leave the house and that results in them always staying together and developing some kind of separation anxiety? Maybe reader gets money by doing some job on their computer or something, and that’s how they can afford it!

(Feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna do it/feel uncomfortable with it!)

-🦁 anon!!!!!

a world apart, together!

It was like a dream come true that he couldn’t exactly go outside. It meant he was yours, here and only here, where nothing could hurt him. Nothing could take him from you. 

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ wow as much as i loved this idea, for the life of me i just genuinely couldn't think of anything to write until i had to go to the store and it was like a eureka! moment. sry for the wait my fav little anon <3

warnings. aaaaaabsolutely none!

You didn’t like going outside. You mean, why would you? There’s nasty people out there, there’s nothing for you to even do out there- everything you ever needed was right here, in this little apartment of yours- work, comfort, food. Naturally, the first time you step outside in a while transports you into some whole other realm. 

Thankfully for your own sanity, you couldn’t communicate with most of the monsters, and whatever words you did pick up were relatively simple and repetitive. Monsters that towered over you, landscapes that defied logic, and the pervasive, bone-deep fear that you’d never find your way back. The one thread of hope that kept you moving, like a lifeline in the dark, was the thought of home.

Home meant safety. Home meant control. It meant not having to face the unknown.

Of course, under no circumstances, could you ever find  romance with your lifestyle. You didn’t like going outside. You didn’t have any dating apps. The only way for you to ever somehow magically get a partner, was if it was shoved onto you. 

And now you have a live-in monster-ghost-roommate-boyfriend-thing that’s totally into you and you’re totally into him. You weren’t complaining, though- he fit into your quiet little life perfectly, a ray of sunshine in a pitch black room, a kiss in the morning and someone to watch TV with a gasp and ‘ohhh’ and ‘ahh’ at all the exciting moments. 

It was like a dream come true that he couldn’t exactly go outside. It meant he was yours, here and only here, where nothing could hurt him. Nothing could take him from you. 

But it’s not like you can stay inside forever. Appointments, errands, obligations- it’s a part of life, that sometimes, you’re just required to go outside.

You hated it. You felt sick. You felt the nervous bundle up in your stomach, twisting and turning at all angles, never relenting. Your mind races with all the possibilities of things going wrong- you could trip and fall and embarrass yourself in front of everyone, you could miss your train to your appointment and be late, or you could lose your phone, house keys, sanity…

“You not okay.”

You pause, pacing halted, and thumb with teeth marks. Your gaze shifts to Mr. Crawling, hands on the floor in front of him, head tilting and hair dangling with worry. A frown tugs at your lips, mirroring his, and you take a breath, sitting on the sofa. This would never get any easier.

“You walk around. What wrong?” Mr. Crawling asks, pulling himself up beside you. Immediately, his long arms encase you in a cold hug. It grounds you.

Sighing through your nose, you lean your head against his shoulder. You breathe in- he smells of something otherworldly; a mix of ozone and yet of the damp earth as if it had just freshly rained, but the hint of death was noticeable. “I have to go outside.”

His frown deepens, arms wrapping tighter around you, as if shielding you from the world. Mr. Crawling wasn’t stupid- he could tell you weren’t fond of the world outside of your apartment, not that he was complaining. “Outside bad?” he puzzles, but you can tell he already knows the answer.

“I don’t like it,” you swallow, body burning, “It’s loud and busy, and… I just don’t like it. I hate it.”

“Hate?”

“Big dislike.”

“Big dislike outside…” Mr. Crawling ponders. “No want you sad,” he peppers kisses to the top of your head, hands rubbing at your shoulders and back, “Me worry you. Me go with you, come. Me go together you.”

Warmth blooms through you like a flower in the fresh spring. The idea was comforting. A small smile tugs at your lips- it’s a sweet gesture, but impractical. “You’d come with me?” You cup his face, dragging your thumbs over his grey cheeks. “People might notice. Or… freak out.”

Mr. Crawling grasps onto your wrists gently, nuzzling his face into your palm. “Someone else not important.”

“That’s sweet, but it’s not that simple. I don’t want you to get hurt. Or worse, you know… discovered.”

He takes a moment to process your words, your language catching onto him. He tilts his head, his bottom lip pouting out. You can see he was deep in thought. Mr. Crawling’s sharp giggle cuts through the silence, and he darts away to your bedroom. You furrow your brows. You watch, bemused, as he rummages through the few jackets you own before settling on a loose hoodie. He throws it on, the oversized garment hanging awkwardly off his frame, the hood nearly swallowing his hair.

“See? Me hide,” he announces proudly, the sleeves flopping as he stretches his arms out for emphasis. 

You press your lips together in a thin line in a futile attempt to stifle your laugh. Mr. Crawling looks ridiculously- adorably ridiculous. “I don’t think it works like that,” you say, words soft. He’s pulling at the strings of your heart so harshly it’s hard to not throw yourself at him.

“Me go together you!” he insists, crawling back over to you and plopping himself on the floor at your feet. “Me with you. Me come, afraid, not here. You mine, me yours. Protect.” His long arms wrap around your legs, and he rests his chin on your knee, the oversized hood drooping over his face.

You lay a hand on his head, the hoodie fabric soft under your touch. The hood drooped over his face, but you could still see the hopefulness in his grin. Your face falls, sighing, and you resolve crumbles. 

“Alright, you can come. But you have to stick close to me. And no scaring people, okay?”

“Okay!” His grin is instant, and he nuzzles his head against your knee like an oversized cat.

You hadn’t even stepped out the door, and already, you couldn’t wait to come home. To pull him back into your arms, where he belonged. Where he was safe. Where he was yours. And the thought of leaving him behind, even for a moment, made your heart ache in a way you weren’t sure you could bear.

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase one:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 2.1k

💌 from me to you: i heard it’s thanksgiving in the us so happy thanksgiving to all of you!! thank u so much for all the love in part one, but here’s where the fun really begins. also, thank u for the 500 reblogs <3 i love u all so much and i’m thankful for all of u. 🤍

𖧷

emmaroberts

Newark, New Jersey

liked by nicohischier, dawson1417, ninahischier and 603 others

emmaroberts night out :)

View all 30 comments

user1 it’s so funny to me how the hischiers always like emma’s pics like they love her 😭

miaturner YOURE SO FINE HELP HELP HELP CALL THE COPS

emmaroberts miaturner mia you’re mentally challenged but i love you a lot

user2 it’s not even been five minutes since she’s posted and nico’s already in the likes

user3 user2 and so is nina so???? your point??

tmeier96 Why was I not invited 😢

emmaroberts tmeier96 next time we’ll call you promise

user4 ok. have u guys seen nico’s story

user5 user4 omg yes do you think they were dining together

user6 user5 user4 it wouldn’t be THAT much of a surprise bc they’ve been friends for AGES

user4 user6 you’re right i guess 🤷‍♂️

𖧷

nicohischier and emmaroberts added a new story!

𖧷

THE FLORAL perfume you had chosen for the night was bothering you, yet you had no one to blame but that one lady at Sephora who offered you a huge deal and made you buy it even if you didn’t like it that much.

Realistically speaking, you knew that the perfume wasn’t really the issue here. You were nervous about this whole fake-dating thing, even if you’d been your idea to begin with.

Lying and faking things weren’t really your deal. As a child, you’d always get in trouble because you could never lie properly. Growing up, you also faced your own problems because you can’t lie.

But you really want to help Nico.

Tonight’s Luke’s 21st birthday, and you had been invited to his little birthday dinner, a small celebration with people from his team and close friends, which included you. Although, you’re going more as a plus one than a friend, but Luke doesn’t need to know that.

A knock on your bedroom door has you turning your head around, facing Nico as he leans on the door frame and crosses his arms in front of you.

“You look nice,” he compliments you, and you smile, putting your arms behind you.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“So,” he claps his hands, sighing. “Are we ready? What’s the game plan for today?”

You take a deep breath, mentally repeating the “plan” you’ve been working on.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do tonight, and Nico, you have to take this really seriously or else—”

“You sound really scary right now—”

“Nico.”

“Okay,” he pouts. “Go ahead.”

“All of your teammates are going to be there tonight and if anyone is going to help us fool Nora Ellis, it’s them,” you walk around the room, moving your hands as you explain your thoughts. “If we make ‘em believe that we are very much in love and together, then we’ll be safe.”

“That will be kind of hard,” he shrugs. “We’ve been friends for a while and we’re close but… I don’t know.”

“Nico,” you step closer, standing in front of him. “For this lie to work, you have to believe it. We have to believe it. It’s the only way we’ll be able to make this work.”

He whistles. “You know a lot for someone who can’t lie to save her life and started crying when I asked you if you had turned my jerseys pink when you decided that washing them with Nina’s pink shirt was a good idea.”

You roll your eyes and bite your lips, trying to hide your smile. “I just read tons of books.”

“When was the last time you—”

“This isn’t relevant right now!” you point your finger at him. “What’s relevant is: we need to make your teammates believe we’re together and in love. Think you can make it?”

Nico smirks, poking your cheek with his finger.

“When have I ever backed out of a challenge?”

“You’ve been around Jack for too much time, you’re getting too cocky,” you joke, crossing your arms. “So, the second part of your plan: PDA, pet names and touching.”

“Go on, little genius.”

“Lots of touching,” you say, feeling your cheeks get warm as you emphasize the word lots, making you want to look elsewhere. You don’t. “Lots of PDA and I guess we can squeeze some pet names in there too.”

“What?” he chuckles. “Want me to call you baby? Sweetheart?”

You spend the next five seconds forcing your face to remain red-less and your heart to stop beating so fucking fast— you were afraid Nico might hear it, considering how close you were and how fast it was going.

Gulping, you continue. “I don’t want anything,” you mumble. “I just think it’ll work.”

“Then we’re fine,” he claps again, moving his hair around. “Do we need to discuss something else?”

You look at the watch on your wrist and click your tongue.

“We don’t have time, we have to leave now,” you walk towards your bed and grab your purse, your phone and your wallet. “We can talk more in the car.”

“Lead the way, baby.”

Oh God, you think as you hear Nico’s laugh and comments about how fun this is all going to be, what have I done?

𖧷

“OKAY, AND remember, we started dating a month ago but we kept it super lowkey,” you remind Nico as you walk by his side towards the restaurant Luke chose for the night. “I hate lobster, you hate pop music.”

“I don’t hate it—”

“Strongly dislike,” you smile, before looking down, where Nico had just slipped his hand and intertwined both of your hands together.

Right. You’re dating.

Entering the fancy place, you felt Nico’s body close to yours, and you tried your hardest to keep your cool. You were used to being close to him but not in this way, not like this—

“Hischier!” Jack shouts across the room and you almost want to knock him out with your own two hands for yelling like this and drawing everyone’s attention to you and Nico. “And… Emma?”

It was almost comical how grown men looked interested in your hands together, and how many smiles you could see directed at both of you. Your grip on Nico’s hand tightened without you even realizing it did, and you smiled politely at Luke and the rest of the Devils.

Nico let go of your hand for a second before shaking hands with Luke, wishing him a happy birthday like an old grandpa.

“Hey, Emma, thanks for coming.” Luke hugs you briefly, barely touching you, and you grin.

“Happy birthday, Lukey.”

“Emma!” Mia, one of your best friends, shouts and gets up, running to you. She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, happy to see her again after weeks. “I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I forgot,” you lie, feeling your cheeks getting warm. Mia looks at you like a human lie detector and you can tell she sees right through your bullshit but, happily, she doesn’t say anything else. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Ella’s here, too.”

You look around and try to find Ella, smiling when you see her sitting beside Luke, quietly speaking to one of the wives sitting beside her.

“I’ll talk to her later.” You reply.

You and Nico spend the next five minutes greeting the other people there, the rest of the players and some of the girlfriends before finally sitting down by Jack’s side— per his request, you must say. Nico’s hands immediately found yours as you placed them on top of the table, before grabbing the menu and smiling at you, brown eyes full of mischief.

“What do you want to eat, baby?”

Before you could even think of what to say, Jack’s loud and annoying laugh filled the table. “I fucking knew it! Hamilton, you owe me a hundred bucks!”

“Oh, man,” Hamilton sighs as he picks up his phone. “Couldn’t you guys keep hiding your relationship for a little bit more?”

“W-What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him before looking at Jack again.

“Dougie and I made a bet: if you made your relationship public by the end of the year, I’d win,” Jack starts, and you can tell how proud he is. “But if you didn’t, he’d win. Thankfully, I know my man here always gets my back.” He cheers, slapping Nico’s shoulder.

“You’re such a fucking child, Hughes.” Mia hisses before looking at you, clearly asking you why you hadn’t told her before.

“Shut up, princess. Now,” he grins. “My money, Dougie.”

You stare at them in disbelief, while Nico puts on his best performance and squeezes your hands together, smiling like he had just been caught eating snacks before lunch.

“Sorry, guys. We were just waiting for the right time,” he explains, and he sounds so natural you have to remind yourself to keep your surprise hidden. “Didn’t want to be like you and rush things.”

“Oh, screw you,” Jack laughs. “We all knew. You’re not slick.”

They kept talking while you tried to hide the fact that the things they were saying made no sense. Because you and Nico have never been close, romantically speaking. Sure, you’re friends, best friends if you want to go that way, but dating?

And, okay, you’re used to people thinking you’re together, because apparently a guy and a girl can’t be friends anymore, but this? The fact that they were sure of your “relationship” with Nico, sure enough to bet? This is surreal.

“Did you choose already?” Nico whispers to you, and you look at him with wide eyes. You don’t answer, trying to find the right things to say so you don’t screw up everything. “Baby? Are you okay?”

You nod, blinking a few times before staring at the menu in Nico’s hand again. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’ll get the Caesar Burger, please.”

“Great choice.” He smiles at you, before telling your orders to the waiter.

You thought that your biggest concern here would be Nico, but in reality, it’s going to be you. You can’t really deal with too much attention on you, that’s why you’ve been keeping yourself in the shadows for this long— Hockey players can be loud and invasive sometimes, and you’d rather hang out with their kids or parents, because they won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer.

“So,” Timo starts, sipping on his beer and resting his chin on his hands, looking like a goddamn school girl. “What made you decide it was finally time? Sie ist ein hübsches Mädchen, Nico.”

Nico looks at you, smiling. “Ja, ist sie,” he nods, and even if you have no idea of what they’re talking about, you smile too, because Nico’s smile makes you want to smile. “And, I don’t know, man. If you had a girl who looked like this,” he points at you with his head. “Would you want to hide her?”

“Nico, he won’t ever get a girl like Emma,” Dougie laughs before getting shoved by Timo. “Ouch.”

“Well, I think it’s nice you guys are finally out.” Palat’s wife says, making you smile and rest your head on Nico’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” you say, sweetening your voice to the max. “I think we were just trying to understand where we stood before, y’know, letting everyone know.”

“How did the Hischiers take it?” Mia asks, looking extra curious. “I bet Nina was happy.” Like I would’ve been if you had told me sooner, she mouths, making you cringe. Sorry, you mouth back.

“They took it well,” you lie through your teeth, squeezing Nico’s arm more than you probably should. “And Nina is just glad her sister-in-law isn’t a Hockey obsessed girl.”

People laugh and you can’t help but feel you had just gotten your approval from Nico's friends.

Nico changes the topic of the conversation, moving back to Luke, the star of the night, and you’re glad for it. You eat side by side with him, you laugh at his jokes, you’re constantly touching him, as he’s constantly touching you.

“We should go out some time,” Mia says, casually, like she doesn’t mean anything by it. “Y’know, catch up.”

“Like anyone would willingly choose to spend a day with you.” Jack bickers, and Mia rolls her eyes at him.

“Go fuck yourself, Hughes.”

“Hey, guys,” Luke yells from the other corner of the table. “You promised you’d be nice to each other today. It’s my birthday.”

“I said no such thing—”

“You can’t even hear what we’re saying—” They both say at the same time.

“Jack and Mia. Shut. Up.” Luke says and they both pout while they shut up.

“It’s so funny because they’re much more alike than they think.” You whisper to Nico, smiling as he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

“They sure are, baby.”

It all seems so… natural. It’s weird and unsettling, but you’re fine with it as long as it helps people buy your lie. Also, the feeling of Nico’s heavy hand on your thigh isn’t really unpleasant.

The rest of the evening flies by and when you notice, it’s time for you to leave. You almost don’t want to, for the first time, happy to spend time with the players.

“D’you think they bought it?” You ask when you’re away from the guys and the restaurant. Your hands are still together but none of you notice it.

“I think they did,” he chuckles. “Actually, it was a lot easier than I was expecting.”

None of you address the fact that they already thought you were dating, though.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking at your heels. “Phase one is complete, then.”

“I like how seriously you’re taking this,” he says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look down at you, dimples on display for the whole world to see. Yet, you were the only one watching them right now. “Thank you. Truly.”

You smile, standing on the tip of your toes and giving him a light, brief kiss on the cheek, as you’re used to doing.

“You’re welcome.”

<next chapter>

[quirkwizard]

The Metapocalypse

So when the series ended, I saw that a handful of fans were confused or disappointed about a certain plot point being resolved. That being the Quirk Doomsday Theory. I saw many fans follow that this idea would be important to the manga somehow. Now, I could easily dismiss this as fans latching onto something when the author never intended it to be that important. However, I still wanted to discuss it. Because I do think that there is something to this concept, but not in the way that everyone seems to think it is.

The Quirk Singularity, or the Quirk Doomsday Theory, is the idea that Quirks become stronger with each generation as they begin to intermingle with one another. And, when these Quirks grow too strong, more complicated, and dangerous to handle. The Quirks as a whole would grow to the point where people and society at large would not be able to handle them. Now, there isn't any denying that something like this is happening. There are a lot of examples of Quirks getting strong as time passes. There are the kids that Bakugou and Shoto work with, there's evidence from Destro's book about kids beating their parents during mock battles, and the absurd heights of the kids of Class 1-A. So it's clear that the manga is pushing the idea that Quirks are getting stronger.

However, the "doomsday" part of the theory is a lot more questionable. Of the Quirks we've seen, there haven't been any major examples of Quirks being too dangerous from the previous generations. Just look at all the pro heroes and the students. They all have their own downsides, but none of them are so strong as to be an active, uncontrollable threat to themselves and anyone around them like the theory is suggesting. What examples we do have are questionable. Tomura and Aoyama were originally the prime examples of this. However, it was eventually revealed that Tomura and Aoyama were given their Quirks. It's an unnatural process, one that their bodies were designed for. They hardly seem like the most fitting examples now.

I would argue the best examples are Dabi and Eri. Yes, their Quirks are dangerous, both to themselves and other people. Yet again, though, Dabi is a result of a very specific combination of powers. Two powers that are active counters to one another and have a very high chance of going wrong. If anything, he could just as easily be used as an example of Quirks potentially getting weaker when they intermingle. Eri is a deviation as well. Her power is so far out of the scope of the setting that I'm not even sure if it counts. Even then, they aren't a threat to the world at large. With the right help, whether it be through training their powers or giving them the right equipment, they could easily live among everyone else. Shoot, you could snap off Eri's horn, and her power becomes harmless.

The only person who really pushes for this idea is Dr. Garaki himself. And yes, Garaki is the number one authority on Quirks in the series. If anyone can have any say on what is happening with Quirks, it's him. However, he's also the guy who made the theory. Of course he's going to see everything as confirmation for his idea, like what's happening with Tomura or the drug made from Eri. All while cackling like a madman about it. He isn't exactly an unbiased source. Especially since a lot of what supported his theory he had some hand in, such as Tomura's bizarre body modifications. There's a reason why people keep calling him crazy, like Present Mic. Because when you really look at the theory and compare it with what we've seen, it doesn't line up.

So, what is the point of all this? Why introduce this theory outside of some neat worldbuilding? I think it has more to do with the themes of the story than being any kind of plot point. The only two people who believe in the idea are All For One and Garaki. Two old, long-lived men who want nothing more than for things to regress and stagnate. That's the whole point of them as villains. The Quirk Doomsday Theory is supposed to show the villain's stance against progress. That it's something to be feared. However, the series runs counter to this. That people shouldn't be afraid of things progressing. That older generations should be working to cultivate and help the next generation grow. It's why when it's first introduced, it's when Bakugou and the gang are doing that exact thing with all the troubled kids.

[lanaroff]

Unwanted- Part 3

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N is an enhanced SHIELD agent who is forced to work with the Avengers. What happens when they discover that she’s not alone?

A/N: Sooo I´m back. After a year I came back with the next parto. Sorry for taking so so long. Hope you like it!!!

The flight back home was one big awkward silence, where no single team member dare to asked what had happened. Not only the mission had failed, but also two members of the team were missing, if not dead. Being that the last thing that they saw was you and Wanda standing on a rooftop that seconds later became ashes.

"Can someone explain me what the fuck just happened?" Tony finally broke the silence. But no one said anything, no one had a complete answer to explain the events that ended with the missing girls. "Rogers?"

"Um... After Sam gave us Rumblow's location Y/N went after him. And I order Wanda to follow her to the rooftop as backup. If it is anyone's fault is mine. It should have been me out there." Steve answered in a apologetic way.

"What was she doing there on the first place?" Tony asked again. But this time Steve didn't answer as he didn't know.

The room once again fell into silence. Tony was angry with the outcome of the mission.  As he should be, at the end it was his reputation on the line.

"Tony, Y/N is a really competent agent. I'm sure they are fine, all we can do is wait. Going back there is only going to make things worse." Natasha said trying to defend her friend. She was well aware of Y/N's reputation of being reckless regarding Hydra.

"12 hours. I'm giving them 12 hours and after that we are going after them." Tony said ending the conversation and leaving the room.

The truth was that Natasha wasn't fully sure if her friends were alive. She knew that both Wanda and Y/N we're powerful agents, but she also knew that Y/N had a tendency to act impulsively. So all she could do was hope that the girls were somewhere safe waiting to return home.

And they were. 4 hours had went by since the duo had settled into an abandoned house. Wanda was next to the fireplace, which Y/N turned on for her so she wouldn't be cold, and the girl would close her eyes resting next to the heat of the fire. Y/N, on the other hand, was sitting next to a window across the room. Wishing that if she stared long enough at the rain it would stop.

"You are going to catch a cold. You can sit with me if you want." Wanda suggested trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I'm good here." She replied quickly. However, she immediately felt guilty for her harsh behavior as Wanda was only trying to be nice."Um Venom... it doesn't like fire" Y/N continued.

While looking from across the room, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. How she seemed so strong but yet so broken. She knew that Y/N wasn't a person that would open to others easily. Let alone talk to a stranger about herself. But she thought that it was worth the shot since none of them had nothing better to do.

"Can I ask you a question Y/N?" She continued.

"Sure. I won't guarantee you an answer tho." Y/N replied. She could have perfectly said no. But deep down she was curious as for what Wanda wanted to know.

"Why do you want to kill Rumblow so bad? What did he do to you?" Wanda asked the girl.

"He's a traitor." She replied slowly letting herself think about her feelings. "Um... I met him when I first got to SHIELD. I guess that over the years I started to trust him. Turns out he was lying the hole time."

"Is that why you find so difficult to trust people?" Wanda asked again.

"I trust people. Just not you guys."

"Right... Do you trust Nat?" The witch asked again making Y/N nervous.

"Ye-No... Just forget about it. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about it." The truth was that that Y/N didn't knew If she trusted the spy. Sure, they were friends, weren't they? But she couldn't let Wanda know that. She wasn't going to talk about feeling with a stranger.

Y/N started to grew impatient with Wanda's questions. So she did the thing that she did best. Pretend that nothing had happened. She stood up and stared to walk towards the injured girl. She placed her left hand on Wanda's lap, and with the other one she stared to unwrap the wound to check it.

"It hurts a little less, but I don't think I can walk." Wanda said as she saw Y/N eyes staring at the open leg. 

Wanda studied every interaction that the girl made. To her, Y/N was a face with a question mark on it, she couldn't quite understand her actions nor her decisions. Every time she looked at Y/N she was able to see the girl's internal fight. Between having to be strong, and being fragile, and to the girl's fortune her eyes didn't lied.

"You are staring. Stop it, It's creepy." Y/N told Wanda feeling her eyes placed on her as she looked at the wound.

"Can I see it?" She asked. However, all she got on return was a confused look on Y/N face. "Venom- Can I see Venom?"

Y/N locked her eyes on Wanda's. And for a few seconds that was all they did. Y/N wanted to know the girl's intention, she couldn't understand why the redhead would want to do such thing. While Wanda just sat there waiting for an answer.

However, all the answered that she got from Y/N was a sight. The girl moved a few steps away from Wanda and closed her eyes.

"If you hurt her I swear to god that I will kill you." She said before letting the creature out. Venom's head emerged from behind the girl's body leaving a thin thread of materia connecting the both of them.

Wanda stood there patiently waiting for the girl. She was a little bit scared and anxious, but mostly curious to meet the creature. Her eyes features every detail of Venom. Sure, she had met the alien before, but this time Wanda didn't see it as a threat.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff, nice to finally meet you." She said. Y/N's eyes traveled from Venom to Wanda. She found hard to believe that someone would see the alien inside of her as something worth meeting. But she couldn't denied that Wanda's small action made her feel as she wasn't the monster that she thought she was. Maybe she was worth caring. Maybe there was someone who was willing to love her despite having Venom. But her thoughts were cut off by the creature's voice.

"Wanda... We are Venom" It replied. Venom was curious. Why the woman in front of it wasn't terrified? Why wasn't she running already? So it moved with precaution around the girl.

"Hi Venom, May I touch you?" She asked again. This time Y/N was not entirely sure if it was a good idea. No one before had dare to talk to the creature let alone touch it.

"I don't know Wanda. I don't think that Venom would lik..." And her words were cut off again, by the events happening right in front of her. With one hand touching Venom, Wanda let a small grin came out of her.

Suddenly, the alien's and Wanda's interaction were interrupted by the sound of a car getting closer. Y/N quickly made her way to the closet window and, as she feared, they had been found by Hydra.

"We need to leave now." She whispered. Wanda immediately tried to get up, but due to her wounds, she tripped. "Yeah, it's clear that you can't walk"

"Just leave me here. I can protect myself. You leave" Wanda said.

"Do you really think that I'm going to leave you here?" She rhetorically asked de redhead. In a matter of seconds Y/N had carried Wanda outside of the abandoned house. And with her still in her arms, she begin to walk through the woods.

"Do you at least know were you going?" Wanda complained.

"No." Y/N harshly replied.

Both girls made their way to a small town. However, before entering the area, gently, Y/N placed Wanda next to a tree. She checked the girl's leg, and without saying anything she begin to walk towards the town.

"Where are you going?" Wanda asked. She knew that Y/N would not leave without her. However, she didn't want to be left alone.

"I'm going to get a car." She replied. Y/N could see Wanda's worrying in eyes. "I will come back. I promise."

And without further ado, she made her way to the nearest gas station. Right before setting foot inside the market, she gazed a small car parked right next to the building. Y/N walked to the nearest fridge and picked a bottle of water. She placed it on the counter, and waited for the man to tell her it's price.

"Would be 85 cents, anything else?" The man asked.

"Yeah, do you happen to know were the closest route to go to NY is?" She replied. She immediately realized that the employee was starring at her shirt covered in Wanda's blood. "Uhm... My wife and I, we were hiking and she tripped. I would love to take her to the hospital."

"Oh right... Uhm, take the rout that goes south. Please take the bottle, it's on me." He said. The truth was that Y/N had no money to pay the guy. So, with a small grin she left the place. Ones outside, she broke the car's window and ripped some wires to turn on the engine.

"Who's car is that?" Wanda asked as she saw Y/N pulling down next to her.

"Does it matter?" She said and carried Wanda to the car. "Here, I got you a bottle of water in case you were thirsty."

"Thanks." She replied with a smile.

Hours had passed since they had abandoned the town. Once Y/N pulled the car down next to the compound she made her way to Wanda's door, who was fast asleep. For a moment all that the girl did was look at the redhead sleep. The one thing that she feared was happening, and she couldn't stop it. She had begin to like Wanda's company.

Without waking her up she carried Wanda inside the compound. However, Tony's shouting did interrupted Wanda's sleeping "Where were you two? Do you have any idea how worried we were Y/N?

"No, and I don't care. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take Wanda to the medby." She said and walked her way to the room, where she placed Wanda on a stretcher.

The rest of the team followed the pair in search for answers. Non of them knew why Wanda was injured. Or why Y/N had abandoned her position previously on the mission.

"Let me check on that" Bruce said as he walked next to Wanda.

"So you are not going to say anything?" Tony asked again stopping Y/N from leaving the room.

"What is left to say? The mission failed, and Wanda is alive." She said with a cocky grin.

"Why were you after Rumblow on the first place? That was not the mission." He asked again.

"No Stark, that was not you mission. It surely was mine." She said making Tony anger grew inside of him.

"You are going to get someone kill, or worse, yourself."

"Do you really think that I care If one of you die? Or If I die? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this." And with her last statement Y/N left the room.

The rest of the team shared looks, Tony was angry, while Wanda was worried. Y/N last words were on loop on Wanda's head. Why didn't she care for her life? What was the thing she didn't ask for? Wanda was determined to find out why the agent was so cold and distant.

[iloveelvisss]

Hiiiii!!! If you have time, I would like to request a fic of cowboy!Elvis X shy!reader.

Now, this one can be a little blurb or a whole fic, I do not mind, whatever makes you comfortable girliee 🫶

Where reader is entering a bar(could be in modern times) from being on the road for 6 hours straight moving to a new house in another state and when she's walking around shyly, trying to be as small as possible, Elvis notices her and immediately becomes obsessed with her and decides to go flirt?

Kinda random but I think that would be so cute🤭

Take all the time you need!❤️

Awww, ofccc!!! Love this just like I love talking to you about our man💓. Hope I can do you justice with this!!!

Cute lil’ cowboy (Elvis fic)

Pairing: cowboy!Elvis x shy!Reader

Summary: While driving to your new home, you stop in at a small town bar, just wanting a break from the long trip. You catch the eye of a certain local cowboy and he tries his hand at opening you up.

Warnings/triggers: None, I don’t think. Mostly just fluff��

At this point, you sort of wished you’d said no to the job offer. All it was, was a secretary position for some big company, and you thought now that you’d been on the road for six whole hours, that your old job was much better. And your old apartment was quite comfortable (it wasn’t, you just wanted another thing to complain about on this torturous car trip).

So as you pulled into the next town, you park your car outside a quaint little bar. The town is small, and it’s quite obvious, but you desperately need a break from this awful drive, so you get out anyways.

But your introverted self regrets it as you enter the bar, and the little bell on the door alerts every patron of your out-of-place presence. Every single pair of eyes zero in on you, and you suddenly feel as though you can’t breathe. You’ve always been shy— your mother always tried to get you out of such a habit. But in situations like being in a bar in a town you’ve never been before, with people that look like they’re judging your every move, you lose your ability to speak— or look up from the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, one particular pair of eyes can’t look away, even after everyone else has went back to minding their own business. Elvis just thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous. The way you so obviously feel uncomfortable is just adorable to him. He wants to talk to you— no needs to talk to you. He wants to know who’s under the cute little shy cover. You intrigue him in a way no other passing-through woman has.

He saunters over to you, and he’s keen on the way your eyes widen— it makes him smile. He tips his hat as he sits beside you. “Hi there. Ain’t seen ya before, what’s yer name, darlin’?” He makes sure to pile on the charm, putting on his most attractive smile.

And then there’s a large amount of time where he just gets to watch you sputter and act like a child that can’t speak yet. But all the while he’s smiling, finding your shyness endearing.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizingly long time, you sigh and find your words, “I- I’m… I’m Y/N. S’ nice to meet you,” you smile cutely and awkwardly stick out your hand, to which he presses a soft kiss to. “Aw, well that’s a pretty name for pretty lil’ thing like you. My name is Elvis,” he sets your hand down and then stuns you with piercing eye contact— his eyes are absolutely beautiful, so blue and electric. “Now, what brings ya in here?”

You look around before attempting to maintain eye contact again. “Needed a break from my road trip. I’m moving for a job.” You smile back at him and he swears it almost makes him drop dead. He nods along, “I see, I see. So ya wanna ‘nother drink, darlin’? S’ on me.”

It’s about then that you backtrack on your earlier thoughts, and are actually quite grateful you stopped in here. You also find yourself wondering what his pretty lips would be like to kiss. He seems to notice because a small smirk shows up on said lips. You shake yourself from your trance, “U- um, yes. Yeah, that’d be great, thank you so much.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed you’d been caught staring. He notices your blush, but it only makes him smirk even more.

He nods and asks the bartender, who you now know is Albert, for two beers. And then for the next thirty minutes, he pulls out all the tricks to get you out of your shell— it works. You’re giggling and talking and having an amazing time by the time you finish your beer.

You look up from a giggling fit to his eyes piercing into you with an expression you can quite place. All you know is that it sends butterflies flying through your belly. “What…?”

Your tone is nervous, thinking maybe he’s lost interest or something, or that your laugh has made him question himself— you’ve always been a chronic overthinker. But he makes you gasp as he reaches up and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is gentle and sweet— reverent, “I wanna kiss ya. Would ya like that, honey?”

Your breath leaves you and you just stare at him with wide eyes for at least two minutes. He starts to pull away, second-guessing himself, as you begin nodding. He then smiles dazzlingly.

It seems like the world stops as he leans in. His lips feel plush and oh so amazing as they press against yours. You respond almost immediately, and fireworks shoot off.

When he pulls back, he’s already grinning. “How ‘bout ya jus’ get back on the road in the mornin’? My house makes for a great hotel.”

You find yourself giggling yet again as you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you, Elvis.”

I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t like any of my writing and I’m my biggest critic, but I wanted to get this out like I promised. Much love to all of you lovies, and I hope you might enjoy anyway?😋🤠 (also Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates).

Tags: @queenstarlight @jhoneybees (lmk if you wanna be added)

[uselesseaweedbrain]

Supercorptober - 15. Scotch

A strong smell of scotch permeates the air, and the usually put together CEO is slumped over her tabletop, head falling on her shoulder from exhaustion, eyes damp, her flawless black mane falling in messy strands of jet around her face.

“Lena?!”

“Hey. What news from the front?” Lena asks in a disinterested tone that Kara has never heard her use with her.

“Nothing yet.”

Lena tips her glass once again, wetting her lips with alcohol before looking up at Kara despondently.

“You know- you’re terrible at hiding things from me.”

Guilt lodges into Kara’s throat, and her confession is so low that Lena doesn’t even pick up on it. 

“Heh”, she mutters. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Kara takes in a deep breath, her lungs tight as Lena stays silent. 

“I came to let you know that I’m not done. Not by a long shot. Until we know for sure, I will turn over every rock, and-“

Lena lifts a tired hand, her eyes welling with tears again. “Just- Just stop.”

Lena Luthor sounds miserable and defeated. Kara reels.

“You’re one of the strongest women I know, Lena! Why aren’t you fighting?”

“Because I did it! I did it.”

There’s finality in Lena’s tone, and Kara bristles.

Lena is so ready to believe in her own guilt, so ready to take the blame upon herself like a familiar blanket-

“There’s still a chance it wasn’t you.“

Lena is looking at her now, her blue-green dilated pupils fixed on Kara, and Kara can’t look away.  

“I know that you believe that everything is good, and kind, and that is one of the things that I love about you- but- that’s not the real world.”

Kara chuckles darkly - it’s funny that Lena thinks she knows her so well, when she couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You’re wrong.”

Lena scoffs.

“No- about- about me. You’re wrong. Believing in good, in kindness- it’s a fight, Lena, and if you think this comes naturally to me, you’re wrong, because-“

Lena’s gaze is still, on her, expectant, but Kara is frozen.

“Because I-“

Words burn like acid in her throat.

“Because I’m the one to blame”, she breathes out. 

Lena’s eyes widen even further. “No, Kara, I won’t let you do that. Stop. Just-”

Kara ignores the interruption, barreling on before she loses her nerve, before she goes back to being scared and silent and hiding while her friend bares her soul to her.

"When I pressed that button, and sent Mon El away- I didn't really hesitate. His life against countless others’, the decision was so clear-“

Kara pauses and fleers bitterly.

"Then Kal came, and said, full of awe and admiration" - Kara almost spits the last words out - " Kal said I was stronger than him."

A wet chuckle.

"He said if he'd been in my place, and it had been the woman he loved instead of Mon-El- he wouldn't have been able to do it."

“Kara, you- you didn't press the button. Supergirl did. I saw her."

An exhale. Then:

"Yeah."

Lena's face crumbles, and Kara buries her nails into her palm.

"That moment- that's when I realised how selfish I was. How self-important I could be, deluding myself into thinking I was a hero, while I had never had to wager what really mattered. Because, the truth is- the sole reason I could press that button was that it was only Mon-El. If it had been Alex- or if it had been-"

Kara cuts herself off.

"I wouldn't have been able to do it. And I don't think I deserve any praise for throwing Mon-El's life away, for scaling people's value in my head, or for playing God when I can barely decide my own fate."

"So, if anyone should be held accountable? It's me, Lena. And if we have to deal with the consequences of you saving everyone, again, and getting none of the credit and all of the blame- this time, we will shoulder that burden. Together.”

Tears are running freely over Lena's cheeks, and Kara reaches out hesitantly, Lena instinctively inclining her head towards Kara's extended palm.

Lena shivers when Kara's warm fingertips stroke her cheek, closes her eyes as Kara wipes her tears with her thumb and moves her hand to the mess of raven hair.

Lena's loose mane is smooth, like silk, and Kara's fingers scratch her scalp gently, rhythmically, erasing her frown and the downturn of her lips and a chunk of the guilt on her shoulders. 

Kara's other hand joins the first, massaging the crown of Lena's head, and Lena doesn't seem on the verge of breaking anymore.

Lena, who always holds all the power, Lena, who won't bow or beg even Supergirl, Lena, over-independent and self-assured, Lena, has surrendered to Kara's touch.

The veil has lifted, and Lena looks so young and so innocent and oh, has no one ever cared for her that way?

"Let me take you to bed", Kara whispers, gathering Lena in her arms gingerly, as if she's made of glass - solid and sturdy until it is hit too hard, and cracks and falls apart, all at once.

Lena's head lolls against her chest and presses against her clavicle, her loose strands tickling Kara's neck, and Kara breathes in a strange mix of scotch and Lena's perfume, hears the oh so familiar heartbeat, feels the feather-light weight of something precious in her arms, and- after all the destruction that they've wrought- is it unfair that Kara can suddenly breathe?

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XVII

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: Alright friends, we have reached the end of yet another longer series. I really, really adored these characters. Like so much. So much to the point that I have completely plotted out (and started writing) the prequel as well as begun to plan a sequel! So there is a lot more Dylan, Halle, and Owen in the future!

And I hurt my own feelings with this series. So yeah, you can be mad at me. Just know that I am already suffering lol

Warnings: blood, wounds, unconsciousness, cpr, mcd, cruelty, grief, dissection mention, captivity, heartbreak

“No. NO. NO. Dylan! PLEASE! GOD NO!” Halle screamed as Dylan’s stuttering breath went out in a quiet exhale. She waited for him to take another wheezing breath. But none came. “Come on, love, come on. Breathe! You have to stay with me.” Halle slid her legs out from underneath Dylan’s body, knelt next to him, and quickly began compressions. “You can’t leave me! You can’t! I need you!”

Each word was punctuated by her pumping his chest. Her vision blurred as she sobbed. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be it. Dylan hadn’t meant any of it. He loved her. He saved her. He was dying. He couldn’t be dying.

But as Halle pumped harder and harder, longer and longer, Dylan didn’t take a breath. Didn’t gasp for air and open his eyes. He lay beneath her hands, body moving as she pumped, eyes closed, features slack. He was still except for Halle’s movement.

Something inside Halle’s chest broke. She couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. She had failed him. She had failed him in so many ways. But he hadn’t failed her. She was safe. She was alive. “Please,” she sobbed as she stopped pumping his chest. “Please, come back.”

But no matter how much she begged, no matter how much she sobbed, Dylan did not come back. And so she sat, for who knew how long, with him, coated in his blood, knowing that this was all her fault. He was dead because of her. Because he loved her. Dylan was dead because of Halle.

Things became blurry after a while. People moved around her. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she had made a scene, had exposed her secret, trying to save Dylan. She didn’t care that the others knew how much she loved him. She didn’t care about anything because Dylan was gone.

Somehow, Halle found herself back at Tectus. She had refused to leave his side. Had refused to leave him behind. Though she realized that Thomas, that the Authority, wouldn’t have wanted his body in the wrong hands. Dylan wasn’t free, even in death, of Scutus.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to their empty room. Dried blood flaked from her finger onto the floor. He was never coming back. And she couldn’t even keep him safe after. Though she had tried.

“Do not let the body out of your sight.” Thomas had ordered Aubrey and Lysander to take Dylan’s body away. “The other weapon is a total loss. Totally completely destroyed. It will take us weeks to gather all the pieces. We need to preserve this body. Do not let it out of your sight. Do not let anything happen to it. This is our last chance to understand why this weapon is different. I will not let it ruin all that we have worked for.” Thomas glared at the stretcher. “It may have ended up wasting what it was given, wasting its life. I won’t let it be a waste now. Take it to the research lab. See what they need.”

“NO!” Halle had thrown herself at the stretcher Aubrey and Lysander carried. Someone had thrown the blanket over his face, but hadn’t bothered to be sure he was fully on the stretcher as one arm hung limply, swinging with the movement. “PLEASE!” She screamed as she took his cold hand in hers.

“Return to your quarters until either myself or Samuel summon you,” Thomas said. “We will be discussing your release of duty that Dylan bargained for. Remain in your quarters until you are summoned.”

Halle refused to move. Dylan had given so much for her. What did he give away so she could be free? What did it cost him? He would never be free, so why free her? She didn’t care. She couldn’t let them take Dylan away. She had to protect him. Had to save him of one last thing. She couldn’t let him go. She stared at the blanket, knowing what lay beneath. This wasn’t happening.

Aubrey shifted, trying to move the stretcher away from her. All Aubrey succeeded in doing was pulling the blanket off.

Dylan looked like he was sleeping, his features slack and peaceful. But as Halle fought more and more to stay, to keep his hand in her grip, more and more of the blanket slipped off until Dylan’s body was completely exposed once more. Until she could see the wounds that caused him to bleed out. Until she could see the wounds that he got trying to save her.

Dylan was dead.

Dylan was dead because of her.

Halle dropped to her knees as she began to sob once more. “I’m sorry. Please. Please, love. Please.”

“Take her to her quarters and see that she doesn’t leave,” Thomas ordered. Helena and Andrea stepped forward, ready escort Halle back to her quarters.

“NO!” She screamed as they hooked their arms underneath her arm pits. She fought with everything she had to keep from being separated from Dylan. She was never going to see him again.

“The weapon is dead. It’s useless now. Forget about it.” Helena hissed as she pulled harder on Halle.

“No! NO!” Halle wouldn’t let them talk about Dylan like that. They were all alive because of Dylan.

“You’re making a scene,” Andrea whispered in her ear. “Don’t make this any worse. You’re going to be court martialled if you don’t let go. Do you want his death to be in vain?”

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt full of lead. This was real. This was happening. Dylan was dead. Dylan was dead and it was her fault. This was because of her.

“They’re going to dissect the body. Do you want to see what they do to broken weapons in R & D?”

Halle felt nauseous. She was dizzy. She couldn’t see that. Couldn’t let them do that to Dylan. But as she watched Thomas glare at her, she realized she had no power. She dropped Dylan’s hand with a sob. She let Helena and Andrea escort her back. She could barely walk. Could barely breathe. Dylan was dead. Dylan was gone. Dylan died because of her. She didn’t want to be awake for any of it any longer. She flung herself onto the bed as she began to sob once more. Paper crinkled beneath her fingers.

Sweetheart. The outer flap of the envelope read. Dylan had such neat, distinctive writing, there was no mistaking it. Halle didn’t hesitate and ripped the paper from the envelope.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry I had to lie to you. I’m sorry I had to push you away. I thought it would keep you safe. I realize I was wrong now. I wish I had known it sooner. I wish I could have said all of this sooner. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you.

Tears tracked down Halle’s cheeks. He had known. He had known that this was a suicide mission. And still he came for her. He had walked into the fire knowing he wouldn’t make it out, but that she would.

I was born over a century ago in a small country in the sea that no longer exists. I was poor. I was happy. I had a loving family. I had a life I loved. My world was small, but it was all that I knew. All that we knew. Owen and I were inseparable. Even when the war came we were always together. And when they burned our home to the ground, when the invaders had decimated and destroyed all that we knew, we still had each other.

We were taken back to the invaders’ home, Patricanus. The world was strange. So different from our own. Everything was cold, sterile. We lived in a land of greenery, of land and sea. And this was a dry, stale land. It’s since flourished into a greener place, or at least from what I’ve seen. But one hundred years ago, Patricanus was a desert waste land. And so the powers that be deemed it necessary to invade other places to learn how they cultivated the land. How they kept the land bearing life. And our home was the most fertile of all. I don’t know what they stole from us, but they stole us away, so perhaps that was part of it. I don’t know, it’s not something I ever learned the truth about.

I have never felt pain like I felt being imbued. Words don’t describe the process. My world had been destroyed and Scutus destroyed my body. Scutus destroyed Owen’s mind. There was nothing I could do. I was trapped. I was a prisoner. And I had to do as they ordered or they would destroy the one thing I had left. And so I sold my soul so that he could live. So that the one last thing of my home would remain. I sold the last part of my humanity so the inhuman bastard would live.

I regret that. I should have refused. I should have let them destroy him early. But I was young. I was naive. I thought I could change him back. Could bring him back. But all I brought was pain. I am a wretched, piteous creature, but he was even more so. Life was misery. Time passed so slowly

Until I met you. You breathed life into me after a century of no air. I felt myself coming back to life with you, Halle. You are the best part of my life. The greatest thing to happen to me. And so I wouldn’t take back one miserable moment of my wretched existence because I wouldn’t have met you.

Halle, I’m sorry I’m not here to tell you all of these things. I’m sorry I’m not here to watch you learn the truth, to give you the choice for the next part. We aren’t the only weapons, but you know that. But what you don’t know is that the Authority is the source of all weapons. They sell them to the highest bidder, keep them enslaved, keep them deep in the dark. I bargained for your freedom. You’re free, sweetheart. I only ask that you take the others with you. While I’ll never be able to take you to the sea, you can take them. Be free, Halle, and free the others.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Halle read and reread the letter a hundred times over. Patricanus was the aggressor. The Authority had destroyed a country. Had decimated a people. Had stolen them away and enslaved them. Dylan knew all of that. Knew that and didn’t tell her. Having this knowledge was dangerous. There was more than one reason they kept Dylan locked up and isolated. He was dangerous to the Authority, to Scutus, to the foundations of Patricanus. He knew too much. And he could have destroyed them all.

As Halle gathered what few belongings Dylan had left behind, she made a vow. She was leaving Tectus and so were all the other weapons. She was going to destroy Scutus and the Authority. She was going to ensure the world knew what evil lurked within. And she was going to free them all. For herself. For those that had been lost. But most of all because it was all that Dylan had wanted.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t free you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I love you. I love you. I love you,” Halle whispered to the empty room. She was getting out of here. She was going to destroy the Authority, expose their secrets and skeletons. And she was getting all the weapons to freedom. Nothing was going to stand in her way.

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[annaphoenix1994]

All I See is You

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

"So, how's everything been, Kiera?" Laswell asked as the women sat at a local cafe, catching up on topics other than work. 

She sighed, taking a sip of the glass of water the server brought her, finding the sound of anything else to drink to be nauseating to her as she found herself occasionally taking a bite of her sandwich. "They've been good. Much better since that shit with Shepherd has been dealt with." 

"I agree. With the water settling now, it'll be easier to focus," Laswell nodded. "I think we've earned ourselves a break for a while." 

"Well, speaking of breaks, I was going to talk to you about something," Kiera sighed, finding it rather difficult to tell Laswell, of all people, that she was pregnant and wanting to resign. "Nobody expected this, especially me, but I've been putting a lot of thought behind it..." 

"You're scaring me." Laswell narrowed her eyes, setting aside her drink. 

"As much as I've enjoyed my job, I think it's time I resign. Given everything that's happened, I don't want to risk putting my family in the middle of it again." 

"None of that was your fault-"

"Partially, yeah," Kiera scoffed. "I keep blaming myself. I can't get Fernando's screams out of my head since we found him. I'm not going to put anyone through it again." She explained, frowning and breaking contact with Laswell. 

"Is there something else bothering you?" 

She nodded hesitantly. 

"How far along are you?" 

"H-How did you know?"

"You know as well as I do that the C.I.A burns body language into your brain," Laswell chuckled. "I'm a mother myself. I know that certain glow." 

"I didn't know you had any kids?" 

"I never told anybody because I feared the same thing that you did. I respect your decision, Kiera. I just hate I'm losing one of the best Case Officers that ever stepped foot in our office, but it's not the time to be selfish. Are you nervous?" 

"Very," She breathed. "Simon is beyond excited by how he's been acting. I was afraid he wasn't going to take it well." 

"I can understand that. He's always been hard to read, but he always got straight to the point." 

"That he does." 

"He mentioned flying to London for a military ball, right? When is that coming up?" 

"He said it's on the twentieth of this month. He mentioned flying out on the tenth to spend a few days there before coming home. He wants to take me to his hometown." 

"That'll be nice," Laswell assured her with a smile. "Have you gotten a dress?" 

"I had one picked out, but I don't think I'll fit in it now!" 

"You never did tell me how far along you were," She snickered. "You won't grow twice your size every week." 

"I'm roughly seven weeks, coming up on eight. I go back for another ultrasound the week before we leave for London. Hopefully, she can tell us the gender, but I'm not sure if I want to know." 

"Afraid you'll be disappointed?" Laswell teased. 

"No, I think it would be more special for it to be a surprise. Although Simon wants a boy and I want a girl. I guess a part of my anxious mind wants to keep it a secret until the baby is here so that I can be with Simon as much as possible because I'm afraid he'll leave me if it's a girl." She scoffed, knowing better than to think of Simon that way, her previous relationship being a constant dark reminder of how some men were:

»»-------¤-------««

"I can't have more kids. If you're pregnant, I'm signing my rights over. I don't want nothing to do with it."

"You're mad that I might be pregnant, but yet didn't do anything to prevent it from happening? You know condoms are a thing, right?" 

"Not my job to worry about not getting pregnant. Birth control is a thing too." 

"Yeah, and so is keeping my legs closed," Kiera scoffed. "Oh, but you're always insisting on having sex whenever you feel like it. Condoms don't have the shitty side effects like birth control does. Weight gain, acne, bloating, cramps, everything, Joe. Doesn't hurt wear one." 

"No, you gained weight because you're always eating. Eating too much leads to acne. Cramps are from your period." 

"What's your excuse, then?" Kiera scoffed, arching her brow and nodding her head towards his gut. 

He pursed his lips, "You talk like that to me again, and I'll make sure you're not pregnant." 

"You wouldn't dare." 

"Try me. I'm serious. If you're pregnant I'm out. I'm not going through this again. I already have three." 

"Those poor souls," She scoffed. "But yet when your ex said she might be pregnant you didn't seem too sad about that, huh? You must think I'm stupid if you think I didn't hear you talking to her on the phone when you said you thought you were excited to hear about her being pregnant. Goes to show me that I was just a side piece to you when you did nothing but tell me what I want to hear because you were bored with her and got with someone else." 

"You're full of shit, Kiera. Go take a test. Now." 

"No. You want me to take one so bad, go get one." 

"Oh, so you're not worried about having a kid?" 

"I've always wanted one. If I am, I'm having this baby with or without you - preferably without you because you're acting like a piece of shit. I don't want my baby near that." 

"Fine, I'll go get a test. If it comes back positive, you either get out of my life or I'll go get a hanger." 

Kiera's anger peaked, not hesitating to slap him across his cheek, knowing that he could easily overpower her. "You do that again and my next hit will be to that stomach." 

She hit him again, knowing that he wouldn't do such a thing as her fighting skills have peaked since before they started seeing each other, her other hand balled and ready to fight after she taunted him. "You do that, and I'll kill you," She hissed. "Just fucking leave. You won't change, but I will. I'm not putting myself through this shit." 

"Good luck finding someone better." 

"Fuck, I can go across the street and find someone better. Anyone is better than you. Threatening to kill a life possibly inside of me? That's not a man, you're just an overgrown teenager."

"Is that really what you think of me?" 

"Oh, no, what I think of you is way worse than what I've said, but I figured I'd refrain from hurting your ego." 

He scoffed, stepping closer to her, using his height in a pathetic attempt to intimidate her, "Try me." 

"Now that you mention it, I will gladly begin," She scoffed sarcastically. "First of all, you can't expect to not brush your teeth and your breath smell good. And no, cigarettes won't mask it. Two, you can't say you give good head when, in fact, you don't-"

"You weren't saying that weeks ago." 

"Just like I also didn't say I had to finish myself off because you didn't last long. Don't get too hurt yet, I'm not done," She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Three, you can't walk around like you're ten foot tall and bulletproof when you're just as tall as me."

"Yeah, you're just as tall as me and just as fat." He retorted, aiming to hurt her composure as he knew her weight was something that she always frowned upon. 

What he didn't expect, though, was an immediate ego check. 

"Yeah? Well let me tell you something. I can control my weight. Until you can control your receding hairline, height, and dick size, then you can have a say in how you think I'm supposed to look. Considering you can't change those things about yourself, I suggest you shut the fuck up."

His anger peaked, pursing his lips and attempting to grab her throat only to find her shin pinning against his groin in a swift kick, making him drop to his knees to clutch himself. He didn't know much, nor care, about Kiera's career, unaware that she was elite in hand-to -hand combat and having fought off several men on her last deployment. 

She swore to keep her "military mode" on base, but in her situation, she couldn't help herself not to. He winced, hearing her scoff, "Didn't figure I'd get a reaction out of you with that little tic-tac between your legs," She began to interrogate. "When you can make yourself get up, I suggest that you quickly leave my house before I make you." 

"Yeah? You couldn't even lift me-"

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Joe. I'll either make you leave, or call someone to come and get you." She warned. He nodded, catching his breath before using the counter to help him stand to his feet and pull his keys out of his pocket. "I suggest you don't come back. This is over." 

"Saved me from saying it. I pity the man who thinks he wants you." 

"I do, too, but I know the red flags to look out for, so I doubt it'll ever happen again." 

»»-------¤-------««

Kiera recalled the event like it was yesterday, immediately frowning as the altercation was emotionally tragic, especially gnawing at her with every positive thought Simon would put into her head, her trauma telling her that it wasn't true. She felt his love he effortlessly gave her, but she also wondered when he'd get bored... just like every other guy I've dated. They get bored when the spark is out, she thought, frowning as her fingers fumbled with the hem of her blouse. He'll get bored when I don't have the body I used to have when we met - when I'm stretched and scarred with saggy tits and more cellulite. He'll find someone better. 

Her raging hormones weren't helping her negative thoughts, either. Unaware that she found herself crying - sobbing - uncontrollably in public with Laswell staring at her in shock, never seeing Kiera cry before. "Kiera? What's wrong?" Laswell asked frantically, moving to sit across the table to sit next to her, Kiera's elbows resting on the table as she hid her face in her hands. "Are you afraid he's going to leave?" 

She sobbed, nodding. 

"I doubt he will, honey. That man is head over heels for you." 

"Yeah, for now. He won't see me the same after I have this baby. He'll get bored of my body and want to see someone else who doesn't have stretch marks, saggy boobs and cellulite. What if I don't have a boy? He'll probably leave after that, too - finding someone else who either already has a boy or to get another girl pregnant because I'm all used up." 

"Listen to yourself, Kiera. You're talking nonsense. I know your hormones are going crazy right now, but you can't let what happened with Joe talk you out of a healthy relationship." 

"You even said yourself that all men are shit." Kiera scoffed. 

"Yeah, but I'm also married to a woman," Laswell giggled, easing the tension and patting Kiera's shoulder. "I haven't known Simon for long, but I do know that he's very loyal and honest. He's been one of the most loyal soldiers I've ever seen. It's funny because when I see him with you or hear him talk about you, it's like I can't imagine him in that mask he wore on tasks. It's like two different people." 

"I didn't expect it either, so it's fine." Kiera huffed, wiping her tears from her cheeks. 

Aside from her own mother, Laswell was like a second - more stern - mother to Kiera - knowing her as well as a mother should. Knowing when she was upset, angry, heartbroken, and most of all - relentless. Laswell always compared Kiera to a force of nature when she was on the field, executing her authority on many levels, giving Laswell the confidence to send Kiera anywhere on the planet, knowing she'd get the job done and leave no trace. 

"I know it's easier said than done, but don't let your assumptions break your heart. Simon hasn't given you a reason to want to leave, has he?" 

"No, but he's still in the I think I'm in love stage," She doubted herself again, letting her traumatic experiences speak for her. "He treats me better than I deserve and I feel like I can't return the favor." 

"I know he's in love, Kiera."

"For now-"

"Stop it. Right now," Laswell scolded her, the woman's motherly instincts kicking in. "That man loves you, Kiera. When you were in the hospital after what happened in Chicago, he stayed in that waiting room for hours just waiting to get to see you. He didn't eat until I had to bring him something the next morning. When he did, he hardly ever left your bedside unless it was to give room to the nurses or to shower. Believe me, I walked in to check on you every chance I could along with Price. He didn't leave unless you did. When those doctors were dressing your wounds and changing your bandages, he wanted to learn too so that he could do it himself when you got back home. There was no way in hell me or Price could've talked him out of it and you know how devoted he is to his country," She continued, raising her brows as she spoke sense into her. "I bet you could call him right now and say you were hurting and he'd be heading this way. I wish you'd let yourself just give in and be happy. You deserve it, but you're making it seem like you're expecting the worst when you really have the best thing every woman wants." 

»»-------¤-------««

"What about this one?" Simon asked Eva, pointing down at a gorgeous diamond ring that was being shown in the case. 

"What do you think, dear? They're all beautiful, but do you think it suits her?" 

He thought hard on it, trying to picture it on her finger before he shook his head, "She'll probably think it's too big," He chuckled. "She's always been a simple person." 

"That she is," Eva giggled at the thought, separating from him a few steps before looking down at another ring that spoke volumes to Kiera's taste. It wasn't bulky nor too slender. A silver diamond ring with a princess cut and decorative diamonds along the silver band. "Look at this one, Simon." 

"That's gorgeous," He huffed, perfectly imagining how it would complement that pretty finger of hers. "I'll probably come back to that one, but I'm going to look around some more before I decide." 

He completely ignored the price tag... Eva thought as she watched him continue to look through the gallery, taking time in each ring he thought would be a good fit. "You look like you're pondering on asking the big question." An employee smiled at him from the other side of the case. 

"Oh, I'm done pondering - I've already decided. Now I'm just doing the hard part on finding the perfect one." 

"I'll be glad to help you with that if you'd like?" The woman asked, visibly too cheerful to assist him. Are all women like this? He thought to himself, wondering if he was really that attractive or if she was just browsing herself for a man. Seeing that she had no ring on her finger, Simon assumed that was why she was so adamant. Or she's just doing her job. 

"You know more about it than I do," He chuckled anxiously, hating having to ask someone for assistance. "There's a few in here that I like, but I keep being drawn back to one and I don't know if she'd like it or not. I want it to be special for her." 

The employee smiled, adjusting her weight on her heels before splaying her hands on the case, a pathetic attempt at showing Simon that she wasn't taken if he wanted to keep shopping. "I'll be glad to help. What's her name?" 

"Kiera." 

"Beautiful name," She smiled. "Do you have a photo of her by chance? Don't worry, I do this with every expecting fiancé so I can help with rings that complement their lifestyle." 

Sure you do, Simon scoffed to himself. Prying isn't going to open up a door for you, lass.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on the case, tapping on the screen once for his favorite wallpaper to appear in front of the woman's eyes - the photo he took of her recently when they went on a date by the river. 

Oh, I know her...

He watched how the woman made a furrowed expression, "I love the dress." She forced the compliment.

"I do, too." He said sternly. 

"I can see that," She nodded, glancing at Kiera's mother as she approached Simon's side.

"I have a few that are in the size you're probably wanting. What's your budget?" 

"I'm not worried about that."

"Oh, okay," She nearly gasped, never truly hearing that before. "You mentioned you had a ring in mind already? Which one were you looking at?" 

"It was style 68843," Eva answered, knowing Simon didn't look at the number nor the price tag. With a giggle, she watched Simon nod at the employee before she waltzed off to find the style number, taking a few moments before she returned to her new customer with the ring between her thumb and index finger, easily setting it in Simon's hand as he looked at it closer. 

"Bloody perfect, yeah?" He asked Eva, letting her take a closer look herself as she nodded in approval. 

"She'll love it, dear. It definitely looks like something she'd wear." 

"I think so, too. What size is this one?" 

"Um..." The employee hummed before reaching for the tag, the tip of her acrylic nail scraping his thumb subtly as she turned the tag to look. "This one is a six." 

"That's just her size, Simon." 

"She must have some tiny fingers," The clerk giggled. "Don't have many women come in with that size." 

"Her hands are very small," Simon agreed, chuckling at the thought of how small they were in his hands. "I didn't realize how small she was because I'm twice her size," He continued, looking at the diameter of the band and comparing it mentally to the size of his fingers, concluding that if he were to truly compare, his pinky finger would probably be the closest to her ring finger size. "Tiny feet, tiny ears, tiny nose..." And a tiny baby in that perfect belly, he thought, thankful that he didn't mention it in front of her mother...again. 

You wouldn't be wanting to marry her if you would've seen how big she was in high school, the clerk thought negatively. Being one of Kiera's former bullies in school, she would never admit that she was jealous. Especially seeing the man before her that was wanting to ask the big question. God, you're so tall...

"Well, I think this one would be perfect with the picture you showed me. It looks like it would suit her well."

Simon took notice of the clerk's jealousy, taking the perfect opportunity to continue talking about Kiera to piss her off, pleased at how he could shut the door of any hope the woman had towards him by making it clear that he wasn't interested. "I think it would, too. She deserves the world." 

"I think we've found the perfect one?" Eva suggested, taking another look to satisfy her curiosity. 

"I think so," Simon nodded. "I want this one." 

"Okay," She smiled, forcing her jealousy from her mind by keeping her gaze towards the floor to keep from looking at him. "If you'll just follow me over here, I'll get your paperwork started." 

"Didn't think it was so complicated." 

The clerk giggled, "This must be your first time." 

"And my last." 

"Well, this is Tiffany & Co. We're proud of our products," She smiled, motioning for both Simon and Eva to follow her to the office, grasping a mint-colored felt box to hold the ring as well as a decorative and rather lavish bag to put it in after she entered the style number into her computer. "Alright, I'll need a valid I.D. and current address." 

Simon huffed as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, setting his I.D. on the desk, watching how her eyes widened after she had realized he wasn't from the States. And he's British? How'd she get so lucky but yet I'm here trying to steal fiancés? She scoffed to herself. "Is this still your current address?" 

"It won't be, but for now, yes." 

"I'm sorry," She chuckled embarrassingly. "I can't read it. It looks scratched out. What's the street address?" 

"60 Oxford Street, Manchester M1 5EE, United Kingdom." He answered. 

"Apartment number?" 

"262." 

"Thank you. Phone number?" 

"(307) 555-9624." 

"Payment method?" 

"Whatever is easiest." He sighed. 

"I always advise a check for an amount such as this." 

Eva expected Simon's brows to raise in nervousness, but he was dead serious, intentionally not caring how much he was about to spend. She's worth it. 

"Then a check it is." 

He nodded, removing one of many blank checks he tucked away in his wallet. Only ever having to use a check once, he had hoped it would be accepted considering his main branch of bank was based in the United Kingdom. However, he had already gone through the grueling headache of transferring nearly 50% of his funds into American dollars to be able to spend without fail. 

He glanced over at Eva as the clerk continued typing into her computer, reaching over to remove a print-out of the sales invoice as well as the acceptance of the terms and conditions of the transaction. Simon Riley, the clerk sighed. Such a strong name for a strong man. He signed the dotted line before writing the amount of the ring on his check, finding no issue in dropping the grand total of $14,163.12 for the diamond ring. "That's like you're buying a small car." Eva giggled. 

"Cars are that cheap?" He chuckled, leaning back in his chair after sliding the check over the desk. 

"Used ones." The clerk added. I didn't fucking ask for your input, lass.

"I'll let her pick out the wedding ring." He said to Eva. 

"Oh, I think she'll like this one so much she wouldn't want to take it off." 

"She'll still need a band, yeah?" 

Eva nodded, presenting her wedding ring set on her left finger, letting him look at it. Her finger complimented the gold band and gold diamond ring on her finger. Lavish, he thought as he looked at it. "We got this band last year when we renewed our vows." 

"It's lovely. Her father has classy taste." 

"I was surprised," Eva teased, nudging his elbow playfully - just like how Kiera would. It made him smirk, coming to enjoy spending time with her mother. "Bud can have a heart when he wants to." 

"Alright, you're all set! It might take a couple of days for it to show up in your account, but it cleared on my end." The clerk said, taking the tag off of the ring and putting the ring in the iconic "Tiffany Blue" felt box and putting it in the bag as well as a care guide. "This ring does come with a lifetime service. So if she needs it to be resized, cleaned, or tightened, just bring it here and it's complimentary." 

"I'd sure hope so if it was that much." 

The clerk huffed, "Yeah, which I'm sure she'll have to bring it by to have it cleaned if she wears it every day or does strenuous work. She won't have to pay anything upfront." Or if she gains weight, her 'little fingers' will get fat again.

He reached for the bag on the table after he stood to his feet, nodding at her as he offered his hand to Eva, helping the older woman stand to her aching feet as he escorted her out of the office and towards the entrance of the store. "That woman had her eyes on you." Eva giggled. 

"I noticed," Simon scoffed. "The feeling wasn't mutual." 

"I noticed that. Don't bring Kiera in here, she won't be happy." 

"I just might so I can watch her scold that woman." 

Eva laughed, "Would it be shameful if I thought about that too? As much as I hate seeing how mean my daughter can get, she has a mean streak as wide as the valley." 

"That much is true," Simon nodded, chuckling. "But she's calmed down a lot since we got back." 

"I'm glad she has. I don't like seeing her angry. Although I hate the circumstances involved." She frowned, remembering the pain she had to see her daughter in after the Chicago explosion. 

"You won't have to worry about that anymore," Simon assured her, opening the door for her once they reached her SUV, finding himself being just as protective over her mother just as much as he was Kiera. She's just too precious for this world, he thought, recalling the same thoughts he had towards his mother. 

He sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, putting the bag containing the ring between his knees before Eva put the car in gear. "You hungry?" 

"I can wait until I'm home." 

"That's not what I asked, honey." Eva giggled. 

"If that's the case, I can eat if food was offered." 

"That's better. I'll buy your lunch since you blew so much money on my daughter." She teased. 

"Madame, when it comes to your daughter, no amount of money phases me." He chuckled. 

Eva didn't know what to say. Instead, she blushed and giggled, immensely happy for her daughter to have found such a good man. She deserves it so much. I don't think I could get much happier for her. My heart is so full. 

"So, what're you hungry for? Drive-thru or sit-down restaurant?" 

"I'm not opposed to either." Simon shrugged. 

"Well, if I had to choose, I don't like to eat from a drive-thru." 

"So a sit-down restaurant it is."

[ninjastormhawkkat]

“I did keep my word, my love.” Tristan spoke. Gene sighed. “I know, I was just worried you would have flown off.” Tristan understood, he wasn’t upset with Gene for doubting him. “I told your father about my plan.” The alien admitted. A hard yet worried look flashed in Gene’s eyes. “Are you still going through with it?” He asked with an uneasy tone as he folded his arms. “Actually, I presented a solution to Tristan that I believe will help solve both of your worries.” Carl spoke up. Gene gave his dad a confused look as his posture relaxed a bit. “What do you mean?” Gene inquired. “Well I do agree with you that Tristan’s plan is risky, especially after what happened, but we are also on a time crunch as well. None of us know when the kidnapper will strike next. We also don’t know how long the kidnapper will keep Alan and Alex hostage. The transmitter Tristan has could help in locating Alan and Alex. I suggested to Tristan that he have another super powered being accompany him while he retrieves the transmitter from his spaceship. This way, Tristan will have cover in case the kidnapper strikes and he won’t be alone in facing them.” Carl explained to his son. Gene said nothing as he pondered his father’s suggestion. It was honestly a good and solid plan. Still, Gene had his reservations. “You’re right that we are on a time crunch. The problem is that I don’t know any super beings powerful enough that I can comfortably send with Tristan. Joe is strong but he’s Jenkins' boyfriend and I don’t want another member of my council worried about their significant other. Archie has a child and a wife that he should focus on and take care of. There is no way I’m letting Becky help and Kid Math is still a child. Pops is capable enough to help but he is also not as young as he used to be. I don’t want to drag any of the other villains into this mess. I’m sorry, I don’t know who else could help.” Carl and Tristan frowned. Gene’s concerns were reasonable and acceptable. Alan and Alex are at their top peak yet someone was able to take them down. Suffice to say, if those two could be taken out, then there is no telling how long the others would last. Matthew is no longer in his prime and Becky still hasn’t fully recovered from B.E.A.W Labs. Suddenly, a knock on the door drawled all three men out of their shared conundrum. “I’m not expecting anyone today.” Gene remarked with a confused and cautious look. “Neither am I.” Tristan added in, looking alert. “It better not be Corbin or heaven forbid Eudora.” Carl grumbled. In the back of each man’s mind, they thought it might be the kidnapper yet it was unusual and suspicious for the kidnapper to alert their presence and come here. Especially since the kidnapper never tried to break into any of their homes before now. Tristan and Gene looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Tristan gave his husband a slow nod before he walked towards the door. Tristan gently opened the door to reveal an old man that none of them had ever seen before. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but is this Gene Woods house?” The old man asked. The old man looked nervous and apprehensive as if he was worried that Tristan or Gene would be upset at him being here. “This is our home. Gene is my spouse. How may I help you?” Tristan spoke in a calm tone. “Oh, well I’m sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Carl Woods. I didn’t know where he lived. I asked around and people said his youngest lived here.” The man explained. “Why are you looking for Carl?” Tristan inquired with a raised eyebrow and some suspicion. The man hesitated before replying. “Um, this is going to sound strange. My name is Bailey…and I believe Carl Woods is my younger brother.” @dualnaturedscientist

"Hold on a minute, some weird guy is staring at me. Probably some bum trying to get change off of me." Comments like that had ensured he would absolutely be relieved of guilt for what was to happen next. A smile spreads across the figure's facial features, revealing inhumanly sharp teeth glinting in the street lights. A hand quickly shot out, taking a hold of the rather obnoxious man. "What the hell are you doing-" A scream soon pierced the quietness of the night. It quickly became a horrendous gurgling noise. The cellphone in the man's hand had fallen in the process. Leaving the person on the other end to become worried and confused about what was happening to the man. It didn't take very long for the man to become completely still. The figure allows him to finally fall to the cement below, licking at his blood stained lips in satisfaction. "The night, it is still so young. I don't think I shall waste another minute on you." Like a ghost in the night, he had vanished. As if he were never there. Leaving only the grotesque mess he had made for others to find. Unknown to him, there was a witness to this who had seen the whole thing. Watching in complete and utter fear. The figure grinned, it was as if he were seeing the world through different eyes. The opportunities that awaited him. It sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. His thirst might have satiated but he wasn't satisfied with only that. Oh no. There was so much more he had in mind for this city. Just wait till morning until they discover his little surprise for all to see. It wasn't until hours later did he finally return to the house. Feeling pleased with himself. Carl shot up in bed, heart racing so fast within his chest. Calming down once realizing he was in bed with Matthew. It took the retired scientist to recognize his surroundings. "That's right.. we're at Gene's place." The dream he had woken up from was already fading from his memory. It was rather absurd, recalling what he could. He could've sworn the dream was incredibly vivid and felt so real. But the little bits of the dream that he did remember became fuzzy and distant in his mind. Carl wasn't as quiet as he thought. Matthew had woken up. "Love, are you okay?" His voice had brought Carl from his thoughts. "Matthew, dearest. I hadn't meant to wake you up." He frowned, feeling guilty as he wanted his husband to get as much rest as needed. "It's alright, I needed to get up early anyway. Don't feel bad, my darling. I'm worried about you, though.” He gave Matthew a smile. “It was just a dream. I was just startled from a dream. I don't even remember what happened in it anymore. I'll be fine.” Matthew pulled the other into his arms, holding him in such a comforting manner. Placing a loving kiss to Carl's forehead. “Even so, I've still got you.” The former scientist blushed. Matthew still had such an effect on him even after all this time. “Thank you, my love.” They had stayed like that for a good while. It wasn't until Carl noticed the time that he forced Matthew to get out of bed and to get ready for his community service. Though there was something that had been bothering Carl since waking up. He had not remembered going back to bed after his conversation with Gene last night. No matter how much he tried to, it just kept coming up blank to him. Carl sighed, he must've been that tired that he didn't remember. He was getting up there in age. “I could stay back. Margaret won't be very happy about it but I don't want to leave you if you're not okay.” Carl smiled once more. “I'm not going to be responsible for what she'd do if you tried. You're also expecting a new face there, aren't you?” Matthew looked surprised at that. He had completely forgotten about that. And Carl did make a point. Wincing at the thought of what Margaret might do if he actually did skip out on it. Though for Carl, it would've been absolutely worth it. Whatever punishment she'd dole out, he'd endure for his dearest husband. “Go get dressed now.” Matthew chuckled at that before doing as he said. Leaving Carl to this thoughts.

Carl still felt unsettled by the dream, it was like he was walking through a mist. Yet at the same time it was like someone or something was controlling his body and actions. The dream was scary, but also ludicrous. At one point Carl thought he saw someone who looked like his old narcissus ex boyfriend who he never thought about again until now. Carl just let out a sigh and shook his head. 'It was just a nightmare.' Carl reassured himself. He remembered how reading how the mind and senses can trick the body into thinking something is real when it isn't. His strange dream was just one of those cases. Carl decided to get out of bed and go downstairs. He was going to try and help his son and other son-in-law deal with this strange and frightening case of kidnapping. Carl pushed away the issue of the nightmare and headed downstairs, ignoring the feeling of dread in the back of his mind. Carl also did not pay attention to that fact that his mouth was no longer dry and that there was no glass cup on the nightstand when he got up that morning. Atomic Steele surveyed the area with caution and an intense gaze. He was going over the area looking for something out of the ordinary. Something that had bothered his friend and teammate Electric Blur. Something in this seemingly abandoned area affected Blur's powers. "I wasn't sure what just happened. It felt like I was suddenly communicating emotionally with a strange energy wave that was being transmitted from there. I felt uneasy and scared...but also sad for some reason." That is what Blur told Atomic when she came back to their hideout looking shaken and worried. She told him she never felt anything like that before, not even from the fallen B.E.A.W labs. Atomic Steele offered to check it out for her as the young heroine wasn't keen on returning to the spot. While Electric Blur was being comforted by her other teammates, Atomic followed the directions the heroine had given him to the location where she felt the strange and unsettling energy. What Atomic Steele found when he got there was a large but abandoned warehouse surrounded by an empty field. The area was surrounded by a rusted, wired fence. The place looked like it hadn't been used for years. Still, the normally brave yet brash young hero couldn't help but feel a child go up his spine. His gut and instincts telling him there is something dangerous here, something evil. Atomic Steele walked up to the doors of the warehouse. He grabbed at a rusted handle and tried opening it. To the hero's surprise and growing caution, the door easily unlocked. Atomic Steele took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. He then proceeded inside the warehouse in a slow pace, ready to discover what laid inside. "Oh hello there Matthew. Cutting it a bit close are we." Miss Dewey lightly teased the former villain as he just came into the library to start his community service. "Sorry about that Miss Dewey. I had some problems this morning but I'm here now." Matthew replied, feeling a bit embarrassed about cutting things close. He really didn't want to leave Carl and Gene alone during the family crisis that was happening but at the same time he really didn't want to test the limits of his second chance at freedom from prison. Miss Dewey gave the man a look of sympathy and concern. "You know, if there is a serious problem going on at home, I wouldn't mind helping you fill out some forms to request a temporary leave from your community service." The librarian offered. Matthew smiled in appreciation at her kind gesture. "Thank you Miss Dewey but I'll be alright." Matthew responded. "So has the new service worker arrived yet?", the former villain asked. Miss Dewey smiled and nodded. "Yes he is here. Matthew, allow me to introduce you to Frank Leigh." Matthew glanced over to the man Miss Dewey introduced. He looked to be a few years older than Victor but still younger than Matthew and Carl. He had dark hair and light, blueish gray eyes. The man gave a friendly wave to Matthew. "Hi nice to meet you." Frank spoke in a kind tone. @dualnaturedscientist

[kavehater]

You know? Life is so exceptionally unfair.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself