#but its still so frustrating to see them take THIS broadcast like its some crazy harmful thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychewithwings · 3 years

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Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back…

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have.

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile.

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro.

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die.

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue.

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio.

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror.

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection.

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved.

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up.

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?”

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed? His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly.

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool.

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself. You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door.

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful.

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go. “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?”

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change.

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you.

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes.

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?”

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.”

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago.

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.”

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.”

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.”

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties.

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water.

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours.

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire.

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan.

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.”

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock.

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move.

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.”

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls.

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same.

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively.

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!”

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die.

You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms.

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole. This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor.

#mirio #mirio togata #mirio smut #bnha #mha #bnha mirio #villain mirio #bnharem collab #bnharem #villain au

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma.

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you.

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why? Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter.

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager! You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar - just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?”

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg, look what you made me do. ;)

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #javi x you #javi x reader #reader insert #angst #hurt/comfort #slowburn #friends to lovers #the rules of engagement #better love #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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cadence-talle · 3 years

Text

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.)

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!)

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting.

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter!

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts!

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé.

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag!

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.”

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.”

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.”

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.”

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.”

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.”

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts.

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.”

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter.

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her.

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving.

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans.

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I didn’t-”

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses.

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!”

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her.

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?”

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter.

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble.

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?”

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont.

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory.

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it.

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund.

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.”

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie.

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more.

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.”

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel.

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are

I know you only do that to annoy me.

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy

Have you tried talking to people?

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize.

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster.

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side.

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.”

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.”

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother?

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.”

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves.

“You’re even prettier in person.”

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up.

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.”

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks.

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.”

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.”

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.”

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.”

Fitz nods. “Neat.”

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze.

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker.

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?”

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too.

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances.

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs.

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.”

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.”

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.”

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans.

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up.

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND.

“Cookies,” he announces.

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place.

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti.

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile.

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.)

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up.

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.”

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red.

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number.

415-623-7868

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.)

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good.

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet.

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up.

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven.

What on earth was that.

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?”

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.”

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile.

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep.

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp.

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.”

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs.

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak.

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods.

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers.

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air.

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is.

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod.

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.”

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back.

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus.

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for.

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

Dex can’t sleep.

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something.

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty.

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them.

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it.

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.”

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you.

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter.

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head.

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time.

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering.

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.”

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs.

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.”

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.”

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.”

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins.

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing.

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it.

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again.

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room.

What the fuck was that.

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.”

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex.

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that.

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him.

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off.

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it.

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve.

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder.

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is.

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win.

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug.

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment.

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.”

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss.

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods.

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.”

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother.

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her.

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape.

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing.

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it.

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing.

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.”

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.”

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests.

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-”

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days.

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans.

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously.

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.”

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him.

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.”

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up.

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look.

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.”

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?”

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch.

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing.

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?”

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.”

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm.

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?”

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man.

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony.

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what.

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say.

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge.

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness.

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes.

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten!

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little.

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin.

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet.

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City.

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

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cristinablackthornkingson · 4 years

Text

Arc of a Scythe Short Story- What Might Have Been.

It is a cold day late in the year of the Capybara, when an announcement is made by Supreme Blade Kahlo that rocks the Scythedom to its core.

Broadcasting her speech from Endura, to every region across the world, Supreme Blade Kahlo announces that after much deliberation, it has been decided amongst herself and the 6 other Grandslayers, that the ninth commandment is outdated and unnecessary and will therefore be removed, with immediate affect. Scythes are now free to marry and have children, though at this time they may only do so with other scythes, though that is not to say that this rule will never change.

Supreme Blade Kahlo also announces that in 2 weeks time, whoever is chosen as High Blade of Midmerica, between Scythe Curie and Scythe Goddard, will be the first High Blade who will pass the title down to any child they have, when they feel ready to step down. If they have no children, a vote will be held in Conclave, as it has always been up until now.

Two weeks later the scythedom and the world as a whole, is rocked to it’s very core once again, when it is finally determined who will be High Blade of Midmerica.

The 7 Grandslayers deliberated and discussed the topic of Scythe Goddard not being a fully trained Scythe since Tyger Salazar’s body was repurposed so Goddard could be revived, before calling the 4 scythes back into the room.

“We have decided, after much discussion and debate.” Supreme Blade Kahlo begins right away “That Honorable Scythe Robert Goddard does in fact qualify as a fully trained and ordained Scythe, the repurposed body was efficiently trained as any Scythe would be, and though it may not have been in the traditional and formal way, Scythe Rand did an exceptional job with her training of the donor.”

Goddard smirks and gives Curie and Anastasia a smug look, while Scythe Rand stands there looking very pleased with herself.

It takes everything Anastasia has not to scream at The Grandslayers that they have made the wrong choice, a dreadful and awful choice, perhaps a year ago she would have, but Marie has taught her to calm her temper and keep her cool.

“And of the matter of who will be High blade? Will we have to wait until next Conclave to see the results of the vote cast last Conclave?” Goddard asks calmly. Supreme Blade Kahlo shakes her head.

“No I do not see a need to wait. We will open the results here and now, and let the winner return to Midmerica as the new High-Blade.”

An attendant quietly steps up to Grandslayer Kahlo’s side and wordlessly hands her a plain black tablet.

There is a tense silence in the few seconds it takes Supreme Blade Kahlo to open and look at the results of the vote. When she looks up from the tablet her face gives nothing away. She turns to look at Goddard and in a clam and toneless voice, says

“Congratulations Honorable Scythe Goddard, you have been voted in as Mid-Mercia's new High blade.” Goddard grins proudly and smugly, bowing dramatically as if he has just won some sort of competition.

“Thank you, Your Exalted Excellency.” He says. “It will be my honor to oversee Mid-Merica.”

“Yes I’m sure it will be.” Supreme Blade Kahlo sighs, for the first time showing any sort of emotion or bias toward the situation. “All four of you may leave now, our business here is done.”

Scythe Curie sighs softly and quietly and surprises Anastasia when she puts an arm around her shoulders in a very motherly gesture of affection.

“Come along dear, lets go for a walk and take some time to process this.” She can tell how upset and angry Anastasia is, and of course she does not blame her one bit, she is also feeling devastated and full of anger, but at somewhere around 220, she is much better equipped to deal with her emotions than Anastasia is at hardly 19.

Anastasia rests her head against Scythe Curie’s shoulder and lets a single tear run down her face.

“I’m sorry you lost.” She quietly says. Scythe Curie squeezes her arm and brushes back a lock of Anastasia’s dark and curly hair.

“Me too dear, me too.”

In just a matter of hours Scythe Curie and Anastasia decide that neither of them can stand to stay in a region overseen by Goddard, and make the decision to move to Amazonia with Scythe Faraday, to help him find the founding scythe’s fail safe, and hopefully defeat Goddard.

All 4 Scythes return to Mid-Merica two days later, though Anastasia and Marie only return to collect what little they left behind in Falling Water and to say goodbye to their friends, before boarding a train to Amazonia, where Scythe Faraday is waiting for them.

While Marie and Anastasia make some life changing decisions, so do Scythe Goddard and Scythe Rand.

A week after returning from Endura, Scythe Rand steps into the kitchen of Goddard’s Fulcrum City Chalet where the two of them along with Goddard’s other undersycthes live, to see Goddard sitting at the kitchen table looking stressed and flustered, while looking through a stack of papers in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Rand asks curiously, peering at the papers over Goddard’s shoulder, they seem to be profiles of some sort, perhaps his next gleaning victims?

“I am looking for a surrogate.” He replies in a neutral tone, giving Rand a bit of a shock. A surrogate? To get pregnant and have a child? For Goddard?

“A surrogate?” Rand repeats in a shocked tone.

“Yes Ayn, a surrogate. You know the new laws about High-blades, it will be an inherited position from now on. I need a child, multiple children actually, to pass my leadership onto once I desire a more simple life, I cannot chance someone like Anastasia getting their hands on the title of High-Blade, so therefore I need a child, and in order to have a child I need eggs and a uterus, and since I have no time or want for romantic or sexual relations, a surrogate is my best option.” Goddard explains to her in an irritated tone, as is she is an idiot for not realizing this.

“Oh.” Is all Rand can manage to say, still quiet shocked.

“The trouble is, I cannot seem to find a suitable candidate, I have looked through thousands of profiles of potential surrogates over the last week, and have not found one that I am pleased with.” Goddard sighs in a tone of frustration. Just then, in idea comes to mind for Ayn, perhaps a crazy one but one worth giving a shot, nonetheless.

“I’ll do it.” She says, before she can stop herself. “I’ll be your surrogate.” This gets a bitter laugh out of Goddard.

“Nice try Ayn but I have already told you I am not interested in sleeping with you.” He tells her.

“We don’t have to have sex, we can do artificial insemination. Think about it Robert, I’m the perfect candidate. You’ve known me since I was 17, you mentored and trained me and made me into the Scythe I am today. You know I share and hold the same beliefs and values as you, we could make a strong and healthy child together, a perfect heir.” Ayn can hardly believe she’s saying this, she has never wanted children before, nor had a desire to be pregnant, but how could she turn down the chance to be connected to Goddard forever? To carry his child and no doubt become an even more important part of his life.

Goddard is quiet and pensive for a moment, before speaking again.

“If I agree to this, you understand that is simply a transaction, and nothing else? You will of course be welcome to be in the child’s life but you understand that this will not change my feelings about you?” He asks. Rand nods.

“Yes absolutely”

“Alright then.” Goddard sweeps the stack of papers in front of him, into the bin. “Lets find you a doctor and get this process started.”

Two months later, Ayn finds herself nervously standing in one of the many bathrooms in the chalet, in regular street clothes with her hair swept up into a ponytail, staring down at a pregnancy test lying in the sink, or to be more precise a positive pregnancy test.

It has only been a few weeks since she and Goddard made their attempt at conceiving a child, and it has been hell waiting the recommended two weeks to take a pregnancy test, Ayn had wanted to test before now but Goddard insisted they wait.

Ayn isn’t exactly sure how to feel about the fact that she is now pregnant, on one hand she is of course thrilled and delighted, this is what she wanted after all, but on the other hand she can’t help but feel nervous and frightened, she’s never been around a pregnant person before and has no idea how pregnancy is going to affect her.

Brushing her concerns and worries away, Any picks the test up and steps out into the hallway, where Goddard is waiting. His head immediately snaps up from his tablet when he hears the door open, and he looks at his undersycthe questioningly.

“Well?” He asks. Ayn smiles and holds the test up.

“Told you I was your best choice, pregnant on the first try.” She tells him in a breathy, excited tone.

Goddard grins and sets his tablet down, before pulling Ayn closer to him. He looks down at her stomach in awe for a moment, before placing his hand on her stomach.

“My child, my heir, you will change the world.”

______________________________________________________________

Meanwhile in Amazonia, things are also dramatically changing. Just weeks after arriving in the country, Marie decided it was time to turn a corner, and decided that if she were to spend the next god knows how many years fighting Goddard, she would need to be younger and fitter than 40, so chose to reset to 32. When Marie turned a corner, so did Michael, also setting back down into his 30s, 35 to be exact.

Almost immediately he and Marie had rekindled their relationship, now it was no longer illegal and forbidden. They may have claimed to be nothing but friends over the last 70 years but truthfully neither of them has stopped loving the other for one single second.

Having already been in love with and having already known Marie for a very, very long time, Michael wasted no time in proposing to her. It was one of the happiest moments of his life when Marie agreed to marry him, only comparable to the moment in a small registry office with only Anastasia to witness, that they became husband and wife at long last.

It’s been a few weeks now since their wedding, and they now have the small bungalow beach house to themselves, since Anastasia found a place of her own only 10 minutes away.

On this particular day Marie has noticed how odd she’s been feeling lately, this morning she was nauseous for hours and even threw up once, which is very unlike her, she’s also consistently been very tired over the last few days, and has been having extremely odd food cravings, things she would never usually dream of having are suddenly the greatest delicacy on earth. Perhaps she’s just adjusting to being so young again, for the first time in a long time.

It is not until later in the day, that Marie realizes the most obvious answer to her ailments, was the only one she never thought of.

It has just gone 2 P.M. and Michael has gone out for a walk. Marie is getting ready to go to the store to get some ingredients for dinner tonight. She decides that while she’s there she might as well pick up any other things they need, so heads to the bathroom to check if they have enough toothpaste.

When she opens the cupboard in the bathroom, one of the first things Marie notice is an unopened packet of pads siting at the front of the cupboard. ‘That’s odd’ She thinks to herself. ‘I don’t usually have a whole packet left over.’ she then realizes that she actually doesn’t know when her last period was, she knows she’s had one since turning the corner, they always return immediately, for her, and she’s almost certain she should have had at least two more by now.

With a frown Marie pulls her phone from her pocket and quickly pulls up her calendar app, her heart sinking and her face paling when she realizes that she missed her period altogether last month, and is 5 days late this month.

She immediately flashes back to her wedding night, how she and Michael were so happy to finally be together again, without having to sneak around, that caution and safety were the very last things on their minds. When they were together in secret all those years ago, they were also so very careful to use protection, but this time they never even mentioned it.

Quickly Marie shoves her phone back into her pocket and hastily makes her way to the store, where she quickly grabs all the ingredients for dinner, before picking up a pack of 2 pregnancy tests.

Marie hurriedly pays for her things and rushes back home, hoping to make it there before Michael gets back from his walk.

She decides to take just one test for now, and if it’s hard to read then she can take the other. However, the second test isn’t needed at all, as Marie watches the second pink line gradually appear, dark and definite. Shit.

She and Michael had discussed having children before, but now was not the right time, they needed to find the land of Nod, and the founding Scythes fail safe, in order to take down Goddard, they couldn’t do that with a baby or while Marie was heavily pregnant.

Just then she hears the front door open and close, and hears Michael calling out to tell her he’s home. Marie takes a deep breath, grabs the pregnancy test from the sink, hiding it in her sleeve and walks out into the living room, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Michael, as it always does.

“Have a nice walk?” She asks, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

“I suppose you could say that, I was very caught up in my thoughts, mainly about Nod and finding the fail safe. You know I love finally spending time with you like this and living this domesticated life we always wanted, but I think we ought to set out for Nod soon, we can’t let Goddard stay in power for too long.” Michael tells her, a hint of guilt in his tone, guilt at dragging her from this peaceful and happy life she always wanted, to take down Goddard.

“Actually Michael, I think that’s going to have to wait, quiet a while.” Marie nervously begins. Michael gives her a confused look.

“Why?” He asks. Marie lets out a sigh and holds up the pregnancy test for him to see.

“I’m pregnant.” Michael is silent for a moment, making Marie worry that he is upset and doesn’t want this baby, but instead he breaks out into a wide grin and embraces Marie tightly.

“This is amazing.” He softly says, kissing the top of her head. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard, I love you, I love you both so much.”

“Really? Are you really happy?” Marie asks in a tight tone, wiping at her tears when Michael pulls back from the embrace.

“Of course I am, there is nothing I’ve wanted more for so very long.” Michael tells her, taking her hands in his and squeezing them lovingly.

“What about Nod? We can hardly set out for an unknown destination with a baby or while I’m pregnant.” Marie asks, worried that maybe Michael will set out for Nod without her, and their child could end up never knowing their father.

“We’ll figure it out, we always do. One thing is for certain Marie, I’m not leaving you or our baby, ever.” He leans his forehead against hers and places his hand over her stomach. Marie smiles and lets the tears of joy flow, placing her hand over Michael’s.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

***4 months later****

It is a cool Autumn day in Mid-Merica when Scythe Rand and Scythe Goddard find themselves standing in a darkened ultrasound suite at the best hospital Mid-Merica has to offer, waiting for Ayn’s 4 month ultrasound to begin.

She has had a few ultrasounds before, but non that Goddard attended, he was not interested in being present for an ultrasound until he could see the baby clearly and hear a heartbeat, which is now possible at 4 months.

Lying there on the medical exam bed with her shirt (she had worn street clothes instead of her robes, for simplicity sake.) hiked up to the top of her rib-cage, Robert at her side while the doctor sets up for the ultrasound, Ayn almost wants to reach out and grab Robert’s hand, let herself believe they are an actual couple seeing their child together for the first time, but she knows he will reject her.

Instead she turns to look at Robert, to gauge his reaction to the situation, and notices him staring at her swollen stomach. It gives her the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

“Like what you see?” She teases, hoping that perhaps he will give into his physical attraction to her, now she’s carrying his child.

“Just interesting is all, to know that my child is in there.” He calmly replies. Before Ayn can respond, the doctor speaks up.

“Alright, ready to begin?” She asks. Both Scythes nod, and Ayn turns her gaze away from Robert at this moment, feeling a twinge of nervousness for some reason, it’s not like anything could be wrong with the baby, the worst that happens in pregnancy these days is an early birth, but even then a premature baby can immediately be helped by the Thunderhead.

As the doctor squirts the cold gel onto Ayn’s stomach and presses the wand into her stomach and begins to move it around, Ayn keeps her gaze on the ceiling, waiting for the nervous feeling to pass.

“Everything looks good, baby is measuring right on track and the heartbeat looks good and healthy.” The doctor declares a few moments later, which is when Ayn’s nerves seem to settle.

“Can I see? And hear the heartbeat?” Goddard asks. The doctor nods and clicks a few buttons. Within seconds an image is projected onto the second screen next to the exam bed, and the room is filled with a loud and steady thumping sound, like that of horses hooves running.

“Amazing.” Goddard says in a tone of awe. “That’s my child, my son or daughter.”

Suddenly, Ayn can’t keep her gaze away and turns to look at the screen, immediately feeling her heart warm when she is met with the black and white image of a small but clearly outlined baby. She can see their hands and feet, can see them moving around inside of her.

“Oh.” Ayn softly says, suddenly feeling an overwhelming rush of love for the tiny baby inside her, a love like she has never known before.

“Boy or girl?” Goddard asks.

“Boy.” The doctor tells him with a smile.

At this, Ayn can’t help but suddenly feel a connection to this baby growing inside her, suddenly it_no, he, does not just feel like a far off thought, but a real live person inside of her, someone who is going to rely on her for love and comfort and safety.

Almost as soon as those thoughts enter her mind, Ayn brushes them off. She cannot become attached to this child, he is not hers, not really, he’s Robert’s, she’s just the egg donor and the carrier. This is not the making of a family, it is a transaction ,a favor to the man who made her into the woman she is today, nothing more.

Later that day, back in Goddard’s Chalet, Scythe Rand is sitting in a chair in her room, reading a book, when she suddenly feels a gentle thudding/tapping sensation in her stomach. It catches her completely off guard, and she freezes trying to figure out what it was, when it happens again, and she realizes it was the baby kicking, the first kick.

Rand sets her book down and slowly smooths her t-shirt down, her hand resting across her stomach. She feels another kick just then, and can’t help but let out a light and breathy laugh.

“Hello there.” She quietly says to her stomach. As if responding, the baby gives another kick, a stronger one this time. “That was a big one, are you saying hello back to me? Do you know who I am? Do you recognize my voice?” Ayn runs a hand down her stomach, feeling that same rush of love and strong sense of attachment, that she felt earlier in the day at the hospital. She starts to wonder if she’s doing the right thing, if Goddard will be a good father to this child, will he love their son, as a father should, or only view him as a weapon, a means to an end? A way to carry on his legacy? She doesn’t want this baby to suffer, ever, even if it is for their own good.

Ayn quickly snaps out of this odd mood, shaking these odd thoughts and feelings away and taking her hands off her stomach, reminding herself that how this baby is raised is non of her concern.

The next morning, just a short while after Ayn wakes up and gets out of bed, the door to her room flies open and Goddard strides in, his blue robes billowing behind him.

“Ayn, get dressed quickly, I’ve decided that we are going to announce the pregnancy to the world today, let them know that even after I step down, The New Order is not going anywhere.” Goddard hurriedly tells her, picking her robes up and shoving them into her arms.

“I...why do I need to be there?” Ayn asks, a little hesitant to share the news with the whole world, these past 4 months the only ones who have known about her pregnancy are she, Robert, Nietzsche, Constantine and the doctors who helped Ayn and Robert conceive the baby, and the doctors who have been providing medical care for Ayn and the baby the last 5 months.

“The speech is being televised and I want the world to see this, the proof that my child is on the way, my heir.” Goddard tells her, splaying his hand across her bump. She can’t help but a feel a little weak at his touch, her feelings for him have only intensified through the pregnancy, even if she knows he will never feel the same for her.

She thinks about telling him about the baby kicking for the first time yesterday, but decides she wants to keep that to herself, for now at least.

She quickly dresses in her robes and follows Robert out onto the balcony of the chalet, where a microphone has been set up, along with 4 cameras, 2 trained on the microphone where Goddard will stand, and two trained to the spot beside him, where Ayn will stand. On the streets below, massive crowds have gathered to hear The High-Blades speech.

“Ready when you are, Your Honors.” One of the camera men say. Robert turns to Ayn and flashes her a smile, before gesturing for her to step up to her spot, as he steps up to the microphone.

“My good people of Midmerica, and of the world. Today, Underscythe Rand and I bring you some wonderful news, news that will change the world and the Scythedom. Several months ago, I decided I needed an heir, and I was not looking forward to having to try and find someone worthy enough to bear my child, to carry the heir to the Mid-Merican Scythedom. But then, then I found the most perfect person for the job, and she is standing here beside me today. Ayn, show them.” Robert says in a booming tone, turning to look at Ayn at the end.

Instantly knowing what he means, Ayn smooths her robes down around her stomach so that her bump is clear to see.

“As you can see, Scythe Rand and I are expecting a child. At this moment Ayn is 5 months along and the pregnancy has been a breeze for her, she and our child are doing very well, and in 4 short months she will give birth to the first in line to take over as High Blade of Mid-Merica.. We have recently learned that we are expecting a boy, and we will be making a formal and public appearance when he is born, much like this one. Scythe Rand, is there anything you would like to add?” Goddard asks, turning to look at Ayn, who in this moment has never felt more important or proud.

“Just that I am honored and thrilled to be carrying this child, who will change the world, Robert and I are starting a new generation of Scythes who will uphold The New Order and the honor of being a Scythe.” Robert grins and nods approvingly.

“Any gifts for the heir are more than welcome and should be left with the guards at the entrance to this very chalet. We will put out a formal statement when the child is born, so you know when to return for his first appearance. Oh, and anybody who even looks at Ayn or my child the wrong way, can be promised a slow and painful gleaning.” With that, Robert steps back and ushers Rand inside.

This news, unsurprisingly, comes as a huge shock to the world, and the scythedom in specific.

In Amazonia, Michael and Marie are trying to work through their shock, having just finished listening to the broadcast.

“And here I thought we were the ones making history again, thinking we were the first to have a child after the removal of the 9th Commandment.” Marie quietly says, running a hand down her stomach.

“Yes, so did I.” Michael quietly says, seeming pensive. “It’s more important than ever that we find the fail safe now, before Goddard can raise that child to be a mini him.” Marie nods her agreement.

“I agree but it’s still going to have to wait a while, I’ve done a lot of things in my life but giving birth in the middle of nowhere is not going to be one of them, and we can’t take a brand new baby out into the middle of nowhere, with no revival centers or anything.” Marie says, already worried for the little life growing inside of her.

“We could go when the baby is older, around 1, perhaps? I know it’s not ideal but it’s so vital we find the fail safe, and we will both do everything we possibly can to keep the baby safe.” Michael suggests. Marie thinks about if for a minute, before nodding in agreement. As he said, it’s not ideal, but it will have to do, Goddard must be stopped.

______________________________________________________________

Over the next number of months, Ayn finds herself growing more and more attached to the baby she is carrying, unable to help herself from talking to him, and thinking what it will be like when he’s born. She hates nothing more than to hear Robert talking about how he will raise his son to be the best Scythe that ever walked the earth, and how his son will not only one day rule Mid-Merica, but the rest of the world too.

To her, he is far more than a prodigy and an heir, the baby she carries is an innocent life who deserves a chance to be whatever he wants, not forced into Scythehood. She often has to remind herself that is exactly why this baby was conceived, and exactly why Goddard chose her to carry his child, they share the same ideals and thoughts and beliefs, they have the same goals, the child will thank them for everything, when one day he is the most powerful Scythe in the world.

When Ayn is 8 months along, just 3 weeks from her due-date, as a gift to her for all she has done the last 8 months, Goddard takes her to a mass-gleaning, at a tonist cloister.

Usually Ayn loves to glean, especially pesky and irritating tonists, but today for some reason, her heart just isn’t in it and she has decided to step back and watch Robert do what he’s best at, gleaning.

A few minutes in and he starts spouting his usual crap about being the tonists completion, a master of all and someone to give thanks to. Then things change a little, he seems to be going mad with power.

“My legacy will not stop with me!” Goddard bellows at the tonists. “For when it is my time to step down, my son will take my place, my heir and prodigy and he will show you no mercy either, he will be the greatest Scythe the Scythedom will have ever seen, he will uphold the New Order and my ideals and continue to rid the world of pathetic menaces to society like you! I_” But before Goddard can continue his rant, he is suddenly cut off, and the blade of a knife pierces through his chest, in the very same spot as his heart.

As Goddard’s face grows slack with shock and he buckles to his knees, the life seeping out of him, the tonists are met with the sight of Rand standing there, a bloody knife clutched in her hand, her chest rising and falling and a hand resting on her stomach.

She couldn’t listen to him anymore, could not take hearing him talk about their child as if he is nothing but a weapon for Goddard to use, nothing but an insurance policy. Ayn could not take it anymore, she can’t deny it now, she loves her child, has grown attached to him and formed a bond with him, she never meant to but she has, and she will not let anyone harm a single hair on his head or force him to do anything he does not want.

“If you wish to be spared.” Rand grinds out through gritted teeth. “Then you will go and spread the word that Scythe Goddard has been killed by unsavories who have burned his body, you will not mention that I was here, and if you do I will glean you and your entire family, is that clear?” The tonists immediately nod, agreeing readily.

Ayn quickly makes arrangements to have Goddard’s body hidden off-grid and preserved until she can decide what to do with him. Once that is done, she makes her way to the nearest public car, intent on getting as far away from here as possible.

Just as Ayn pulls the car door shut after her, she is hit with a wave of pain in her stomach, that has turned rock-hard under her hand. Seconds later the pain is followed by a gush of water from between her legs, soaking the car seat and her robes.

“Oh no.” Ayn quietly says to herself. She wasn’t prepared to go into labor today, she isn’t due for another month, but the stress of the day must have sent her into labor.

“What is your destination?” The car asks in it’s emotionless and robotic voice.

“The nearest hospital.”

Thankfully, Ayn’s robe and ring get her a lot of attention straight away and she is quickly escorted to a large and comfortable room on the labor ward, where she is able to change out of her wet robes and into a dry hospital gown.

Her labor is long and painful, and quiet honestly terrifying. She has no idea what’s going to happen once the baby is born, now that Goddard is dead and their arrangement is obviously over, how is she going to fare as a mother? A single mother no less? It had never been in her plan to have children, yet here she is, hours away from giving birth to her mentor’s child, her mentor who she killed.

The pushing is the worst part, undoubtedly, it lasts for hours and takes every ounce of energy Ayn has, not to mention it hurts like hell since she has her pain-nanites turned off, has done since she was 17 and first apprenticed with Goddard.

After 3 hours of pushing, Ayn is feeling ready to give up, for the first time in her life, unsure of how much more she can take.

“Baby’s out up to his shoulders, Your Honor, the worst part is over, just one, maybe two more pushes now and he should be here.” The doctor tells Ayn in an encouraging tone. 2 more pushes, she can do 2 more pushes.

Gripping the back of her legs for support, Ayn leans forward into the push, groaning at the pain, her face turning red from the strain and effort of pushing.

“That’s it Your Honor, keep going baby’s out up to his tummy now, just a few more seconds!” The doctor tells her in an excited tone. Scrunching her face up, Ayn pushes down even harder than before and lets out a loud yell of pain, before she feels a weight lift from her and hears a baby start to cry. She sighs in relief and relaxes back into the pillows.

Seconds later the baby is placed on her chest, and the nurse by her side starts to rub and wipe the white vernix and blood off of the baby.

Ayn immediately puts her arms around her baby, pulling him closer to her and peering down into his little face. He is so utterly perfect, and before she knows it tears of joy start to spill down her face.

“Hello.” She says through the tears. “Hello little one, oh my god you’re so perfect, I can’t believe I made you! I love you, I love you so much.” She presses a kiss to his little head full of thick dark brown hair, inhaling his sweet scent and never wanting to let him go.

“Do you have a name for him, Your Honor?” The nurse asks.

“Alex.” Ayn immediately says, not even having to think about it. “Alexander James, but I’ll call him Alex for short.”

“Shall I put Rand as his last name?” The nurse asks. Ayn shakes her head.

“No, put Kwon, my birth surname, and put his mother’s name down as Olivia Kwon.” From the second little Alex was placed on her chest, Ayn knew she could never return to being Scythe Ayn Rand, this little boy has already changed her so completely and she is going to devote her life to loving him, raising him and supporting him.

“And the father’s name?” The nurse asks. This, Ayn has to think about for a second. While she is thinking, she looks back down at little Alex and really takes in his features for the first time, he has light brown skin, her eye shape and bone structure, and long elegant fingers like Goddard. No, not like Goddard, like Tyger. In that moment she knows what she has to do.

________________________________________________________________

When words of Goddard’s death soon reaches the rest of the Scythedom, Marie is called back to Endura, by The Grandslayers.

Michael, of course goes with her, seeing as she is 7 months pregnant, he is extremely concerned for her and worried at all times.

He is by her side when she stands by the 7 Grandslayers once again, waiting to hear why the have called her back here.

“As I am sure you are aware.” Supreme Blade Kahlo begins, not one to waste time with small talk. “High Blade Goddard has met an untimely end at the hands of unsavories, and we are unable to find Scythe Rand who when last seen, was pregnant with Goddard’s child, heir to the position of High Blade. She cannot be traced by her ring nor has she been seen since before High Blade Goddard’s death.

In this case, we need a new High Blade, and not just a stand in until Goddard’s child comes of age.

Honorable Scythe Curie, you were only 1 vote away from winning the election against Goddard, and I fully believe you would and will do an excellent job as High Blade. Therefore the 6 other Grandslayers and I have decided that we will not hold another election, rather that you, Honorable Scythe Marie Curie, will be our next High Blade.”

Marie can’t say she’s surprised, she had suspected this may be the reason The Grandslayers wished to speak with her again, but she had not wanted to accept it. High Blade is not a position she desires, especially when she is just about to become a mother.

“Do you accept your appointment as High Blade, Scythe Curie?” Kahlo asks. Marie nods, knowing that though she does not want to be High Blade, she needs to be.

“Yes, Your Exalted Excellency, I accept the position.” Marie says in a confident tone, straightening her posture and holding her head high.

“Very good, then you shall return to Mid-Merica and begins your duties as High Blade by cleaning up the mess Goddard has left behind.”

That is exactly what they do, Marie, Michael and Anastasia all return to Fulcrum City, and spend the next 2 months restoring order and justice to The Scythedom.

2 months after being appointed High Blade, Marie wakes up one morning to a damp feeling beneath her and strange, surge like pains in her stomach.

‘I think my water broke.’ Marie thinks to herself, pulling the blankets back and (with some effort due to the sizable bump in her way) pushes herself off the bed. Just when she gets to her feet, there is a trickle of water from between her legs, quickly soaking the floor beneath her.

“Michael!” Marie calls, lowering herself back down onto the edge of the bed. Michael appears in the doorway just seconds later, a look of panic and worry on his face.

“Is everything alright?” He anxiously asks.

“My water broke, the baby’s coming.”

Michael’s jaw drops and his eyes widen in shock. He quickly turns on his heel to grab his phone and call the midwife, seeing as Marie decided to have a home birth.

The next few hours pass by quickly and peacefully, with Marie able to handle the pain very well, and both she and Michael feeling more eager than ever to meet their child.

Thankfully Marie’s labor isn’t too long, only 4 hours in total, and only 1 of those is spent pushing.

At 1:03 P.M. on the 23rd of March, Year of The Cobra, Marie grips Michael’s hand, takes a deep breath and gives one final push, before seconds later feeling a weight lift from her and a sharp and loud wail pierce the air.

“It’s a girl!” The midwife happily announces, quickly passing the baby up to Marie, who pulls her daughter close to her chest and lets the tears of joy fall.

“Hello baby girl.” Marie quietly says, looking down at her daughter. “You are simply the most beautiful and perfect baby ever, I love you so much.”

Michael quickly wipes at his own tears, before stroking his daughter’s cheek and looking at her in awe, hardly able to believe he made her, he and Marie, and that he gets the honor of loving and raising her for the rest of his life.

“Hello little one, little Sophie, Sophie Amelia Faraday-Curie, I’ve waited over 200 hundred years to meet you and every second was worth it.” Michael softly says, his heart beyond full of love for his beautiful daughter.

“You have no idea Sophie, how very wanted you were, and how very loved you are. You are the most precious thing in the world, Sophie, and I promise I will be the best mother you could ask for, you’re my priority and I will always love and support you.” Michael puts his arms around his wife and daughter, and leans down to kiss Sophie’s forehead.

“As will I, you are so loved Sophie. I have been given many an honor in my life, but being your dad is without a doubt, the single best thing ever to happen to me.”

________________________________________________________________

When Tyger wakes up, he’s not so sure where he is. The room he is in is completely unfamiliar to him, and the last thing he remembers is boarding a train to Texas, to go work for that Scythe who contacted him. Did that happen? Did he splat? Is that what this is, a revival center in Texas? It makes sense, it seems similar to other revival centers he’s been in, and if he went deadish in way that messed with his brain, his memories would only be backed up to when he left for Texas.

Tyger runs his hands across his face in an attempt to shake off the groggy feeling he has, but something doesn’t feel right. His nose isn’t the same shape and there’s stubble on his chin and jawline, which he never had before.

“Good to see you’re awake, Tyger.” a vaguely familiar feminine voice says. Tyger turns his head in the direction the sound came from, and sees a tall woman sitting in a chair by his bed, she has straight black hair that stops just at the top of her neck, she is wearing an emerald green blouse paired with dark blue jeans and black boots. Tyger vaguely recognizes her, from a party he attended once, Scythe Rand is her name, she flirted with him a bit at the party and he can’t deny he felt something between them. She looks a bit different now, her hair use to tumble past her shoulders, now it is much shorter, and she looks different out of her robes.

Then Tyger notices the most surprising thing of all. In her arms, Scythe Rand is carefully cradling a baby, who looks to be no more than a month old at most. The baby is dressed in an emerald green onsie and is suckling contentedly on a pacifier, looking all around him with big curious eyes. His little head is covered in a mop of dark brown hair and he seems very content and at peace in Scythe Rand’s arms, holding tightly onto her thumb as he takes in his surroundings. Actually, he kind of looks like Scythe Rand.

“I... Uh... why do you have a baby?” Tyger asks in a confused tone, still trying to get his bearings together.

Rand smiles and shifts closer to Tyger so he can get a better look at the baby.

“This is Alex, our son, your son.”

31 notes · View notes

ilguna · 4 years

Text

Belamour - Louring (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

wc; 3.4k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

! Listen, this takes place DURING chapter ten on the SECOND day. After Allio has been killed and before (Y/n) is stabbed. In Catching Fire, it is said that when there are 8 tributes left, the families of the remaining tributes will be interviewed !

–

With a stern and hateful look into the living room, Reed can’t believe he’s watching his furniture be rearranged by a bunch of Capitol people to make his house look more appealing. Not only is it insulting, it goes to show how insensitive the Capitol is to the people in the district.

Reed has an unhealthy desire to yell at every single one of them and take out his frustrations, as if that’ll help his sister’s situation inside of the arena. They might not have put her in their direction, but they’re a big reason why the games continue to go on. For their sick entertainment. She’s fifteen for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t unclench his jaw. He barely acknowledges Alyssum’s presence in his arms, because he wants to keep an eye on the people. As if they’ll end up swiping something in the house. There’s nothing valuable to them, and it’s a crazy though. Especially while he watches them try to touch as little things as possible.

Some lady moves a special bamboo plant that Reed remembers mom taking care of, like it’s also a child of hers. The Capitol lady has a look of disgust on her face when she looks back down at her white gloves, and brushes the dirt back into the plant, “You should clean.” is all she says, and then moves in the lamp.

Once they plug it in, they turn it on. It brightens up the entire room, more than any open curtain has. Like the lady’s gloves, the light is also white and it stings his eyes a little. Alyssum turns her face from where they’d been working, and places her head on his chest.

“Ouch.” she mutters, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“Sorry.” Reed murmurs, fixing her in his arms but not moving. The living room looks foreign to him.

He wonders if they’ll be moving all of this back after the interview, or if he’ll be left with Mox to do it themselves. He hopes that they have enough decency to not do the latter, but after watching everything they’ve done so far, he wouldn’t put it past them. The first thing that they said when they walked in the house was how they were going to have to readjust.

What a nice greeting to a family of a tribute, right? For once, Reed watched Mox leave the room because of how mad he was. And that’s when Reed decided that he’d hold onto Alyssum until Mox felt better. Mox isn’t able to tolerate as much as he is, hasn’t had the experience of holding in his emotions for the better.

Reed’s been working on that for years now, it’s just what happens when you’re the head of the household. You have to be strong for the people who can’t be strong for themselves. When his sister comes back from the Capitol, he’s sure that burden will be even worse. He’s seen the way that victors react to people when they come back. It’s not pretty.

It’ll take a while for her to get used to her surroundings, and Reed will be there every step of the way. The adjustment will be hard, but they’ve all been through worse, he thinks. He thinks that watching his father come out of the hospital room, with tears in his eyes and a shake of his head, was hard. Even worse when he’d die months later, and leave Reed and Mox to take care of two expensive girls, especially when neither of them had experience.

Reed was only seventeen, Mox was sixteen. And for the first time in Reed’s entire life, he had to sign up for tessera. He’ll never forget the look on Caspian’s face when he broke the news. How he might get chosen the next year, because his name would be in there more times than needed. Instead of six times, it would be fourteen. Soon, Reed would be eighteen, and then he’d begin to bring in cash.

It wasn’t the same without two parents in the house. There might have been a year gap between him and Mox, but Reed felt old. Older than he was, and wise well beyond his years. He was so aware of the fact that three lives were depending on him, and he was terrified because of it.

He managed to stable out, but the fear hasn’t left him since. Even with Mox’s income, they’re always scraping by. One bad move, one accident could send them spiraling again. When (Y/n) wins the games, they’ll be able to float. They’ll be richer than they’ll have ever been, more than their grandparents.

It’ll be a game changer. But he doesn’t care about the money, he cares about her. The house isn’t the same without her, it’s empty and quiet. Dim and damp. Walking into her room is like walking into his parents room. Dusty, dark, and it feels like a graveyard, everything should be untouched to preserve her memory.

“Excuse me.” a male voice cuts, making Reed look over, “Do you have any family photos?”

Talk about his parent’s room. They’re on the dresser, but they’re old and he’s not sure how his sister would feel about old pictures of her. He shakes his head, and the man sighs.

“Well, the room is ready. I’d get your brother and come back. We’ll be on in the next ten minutes.”

They go back to plugging in lights, pushing the couch back even more to get room between where he’ll be sitting, and the cameras. Reed doesn’t want to leave the living room, but he turns and goes into the hallway anyway. On the way, he shuts the door to (Y/n) and Alyssum’s room, and knocks on his and Mox’s bedroom door.

Mox opens it, looking much calmer than he did earlier, “Is it time?”

“Almost, we have ten minutes or so.”

Mox abandons the doorway and heads inside of the room, running a hand through his hair. He rubs his face and then sits on his bed, looking out the window. Neither of them say anything past this, and they wait as long as possible, before going to join the Capitol people in the living room.

Standing in the living room is a short woman, bright red hair, grey skin, when she looks at the siblings, her pupils are obviously too small. It makes her look like a corpse, fresh from the grave and looking insane, Reed is glad when she looks away. Even Alyssum goes back to snuggling her face into his chest.

“Go ahead and sit down.” she says, and they follow.

Reed sits next to the arm on the left, Mox to his right. Reed sits up, placing Alyssum on his knee, facing the camera that seems to have a mind of its own. The lady stands in front of the couch, now, looking them over.

God, what is it with the Capitol people altering their bodies like that? Don’t they know how unattractive it is? He doesn’t care about the ash-colored skin, he’s worried about her eyes. And when they dart between him and Mox, it makes him feel nauseous.

“Scoot to the right, you two should be in the middle.” she says, and they follow her directions, after that she does a series of things. She angles them inwards, creating a space between their hips. She places a pillow--provided by her assistants--in that space, and Alyssum sits there now.

She moves out of the way after that, “Listen carefully,” she begins, and Reed and Mox watch as they readjust the camera, and the lights, “Sit up straight, talk in order of oldest to youngest. The interview will take anywhere between ten to fifteen minutes. No swearing.”

They stop adjusting the lights, “The camera will follow your face, I suggest not moving too much. The girl shouldn’t talk too much, either. Chins up.”

Reluctantly, the two of them listen to her advice, scooting up higher on the couch and raising their chins a little so they’re not pointed downwards the entire time.

“Your sister is a very important tribute right now, I’d suggest not saying anything that could ruin that. Remember that if she wins, this will be showing up in the recap. Big smiles for the camera, please. Start the countdown!” she shouts, and everyone takes at least three steps backward.

A man counts down from ten, around five, the smiles appear on the brother’s faces. Reed scoots himself back until he’s pressed against the sofa, hoping that’ll keep him upright. A little bit of anxiety sprouts on three, suddenly remembering that this will be broadcasting in front of hundreds of thousands of people.

They’re about to represent (Y/n), whatever he’s feeling has to go away.

The audio comes through before the hologram visual, above the camera. But Caesar does appear on his special stage, a wide smile on his face, behind him is a large screen that says: DISTRICT FOUR - (Y/N) GALLOWS. The words will be replaced with their faces as soon as he introduces them.

“Now it’s time for the family of (Y/n) Gallows from District Four!” he shouts, and motions to the screen behind him. There, he, Mox and Alyssum appear.

Reed’s eyes fall from the hologram and to the camera, still trying to smile naturally. This is going to be harder than he thought. They all listen to the roar of the crowd, excited to see yet another tribute’s family, and their way of life.

“Wow, what a resembling bunch!” Caesar exclaims, “Please, introduce yourselves.”

Reed’s glad to go first, to get a break from the forced smile, “My name is Reed.” he says.

Caesar nods thoughtfully, “How old are you, Reed?”

“Twenty.”

“And you’re the eldest of the house?” Caesar asks, and Reed nods, “How impressive! It must be a hard job. And what’s your name?”

It’s a clear question for Mox, and Mox ends up raising his eyebrows a bit, lowering his chin when he speaks, “Mox, I’m nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Caesar makes a face, “You are not!”

Mox gives a small smile, “I am.”

Caesar’s shaking his head, “Folks, I don’t believe they’re as old as they say they are. Haha!” the crowd laughs too, “And the little one?”

Reed looks down to Alyssum, whispering, “Go ahead and tell them your name.”

She bites her lip, and then smiles widely, “Alyssum.”

“She’s three.” Reed says.

“She looks exactly like (Y/n), do you know that? When you three appeared, I had to ask myself, ‘When did (Y/n) win?’ Haha!” and the crowd is cheering right along his laugh, “She’s absolutely adorable, I can imagine she’s a pleasure to be around.”

Reed and Mox are well passed used to people telling them how Alyssum looks like an exact replica of her older sister. Sometimes, they can agree on it, because there’s days where she does. But there’s days where Alyssum is such a resemblance of their mother, and it makes Reed’s heart ache painfully.

People have learned to stop bringing it up. But the Capitol gets a pass, because they have no way of knowing. They’re the outsiders for once.

“We get that a lot.” Reed says, “And thank you.”

Caesar seems to settle now, “Let’s start the beginning, shall we? When (Y/n)’s name was read during the reaping, how did you feel?”

Reed takes a deep breath to give himself room to think before speaking, “At first, nervous, because she’s only fifteen. I never pictured her on that stage before then, and I didn’t want to. Then, I calmed down some, she knows what she's doing.”

Caesar’s nodding, “Yes, she has proven to be very cunning. What about you, Mox? How did you feel?”

“Sad.” Mox says, “She’s my baby sister, I don’t want the world to touch her. We’ve all seen what happens inside of the arena, and it’s brutal.”

“What did you say to her?”

Reed fixes his chin, he’s going to have to answer this for the both of them. Mox hardly spoke when they parted ways, “We reassured her that she can win. She might be young, but she knows a lot about the arena already.”

“And you gave her that ring, right? The one she has as a token?”

The ring! Reed’s forgotten all about it, and he’s sure that she has too. She hardly ever pays attention to it, until it’s the end of the day. She’s expressed a couple of times to her allies how afraid she is to lose it in the sand. Once it slips off, it’ll be impossible to find. The only time (Y/n) really acknowledges it is when she’s taking long walks to places.

Like back and forth between the pond, or the waterfall. Wherever it may be, she’ll spin the ring on her finger. Reed’s a little surprised that it hasn’t come flying off just yet, considering that it no longer fits her finger snugly, she’s lost a lot of weight inside of there. They eat one meal a day, one bottle of water. It’s not healthy, and he hates to watch it.

She’s not skin and bones, and she’s not starving. That’s the only part that matters.

“Yes, I’ve had it on me since she turned twelve. I didn’t think she'd get chosen for the games, but just in case, I wanted to get her a token to remind her of home.”

“What’s the story behind the ring?”

Reed’s sure that (Y/n) already explained it during her interview, because he asked her the exact same question. But still, he answers, “Well, it was our mother’s engagement ring. When our dad first met our mom, she told him that if she were to ever get married, she didn’t want an expensive ring, and liked the smaller things.

“So, he got her that silver band with a wave on it. He thought the silver was close enough to blue, and it was cheap. As for the wave, he wanted something that represented District Four. When he proposed with it, she was surprised that he remembered, and obviously said yes.

“She wore the ring everywhere, and when she got married, she got a better band. When she died, we didn’t bury her in her rings, and instead kept them in her jewelry box. I wish I could say we have our dad’s matching set, but we don’t.” Reed’s glad that Alyssum is too young to understand all of this. She might be able to speak and listen to them, but she won’t start remembering things until she’s five or six.

The audience is quiet, Caesar’s looking confused. Reed knows the question is coming before it’s asked, “Why not?”

Mox picks it up, “He died months later in a boating accident. No bodies, much less the boat, were recovered.”

Now, there’s a sad hush that falls over the audience. Caesar nods thoughtfully, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s been years.” Mox says.

“Let’s talk about the Tribute Parade, then. What was your favorite part?”

Reed makes a face, “At the beginning, she seemed happy and carefree.”

“You weren’t bothered that she was holding onto her district partner?” Caesar’s raising his eyebrows.

“(Y/n) and Finnick are friends.” Mox says, “They’ve known each other for years, they go to school together.”

“What a shame then, for two friends to be placed in together.” The crowd seems to agree, “They seemed to be fond of each other at the beginning of the week too, I can see it. What about you?” more cheering, “Okay! Let’s talk about my favorite part, her training score. Tell me everything you were feeling.”

“Excited.” Reed says, perking up a bit more, “Seeing that ten on screen was a reminder of how smart she is. I don’t doubt that she did something impressive to earn it, she knows how to gain the good sort of attention.”

“That she does!” Caesar agrees, “Especially for her age too. We’ve seen girls and boys her age get around that area, but never a ten on the dot. Did you celebrate?”

Mox is nodding, a small laugh coming from him, “Yes, we did. We’re good friends with the family next door, we had a celebration. A few people outside of the houses came by to congratulate us.”

“I bet you had a good time. Did you do the same for her interview?”

“More or less. We weren’t happy that the week was over so soon, but that’s just what happens with the games.” Mox says.

“She was very deceiving on stage at first.” Caesar says, “Nervous, I could tell.”

Reed nods, “She’s never really been in front of crowds before, I believe that the thought of the camera’s weren’t helping very much either.”

The crowd shouts, and Caesar’s still nodding, “Yes, but she wrapped it up very nicely towards the end. Assuring a win like that?”

“She can do anything that she puts her mind to.” Mox tells him.

“Right. Now, you said earlier that her and Finnick are friends, why didn’t she run with him during the bloodbath? Why do you think she stayed?”

“Survival, she knows that the career alliance tends to last the longest, and it’s the most reliable. Finnick is pretty young, too. She probably didn’t think he’d be the best fit, after all.”

“But the other boy? Blaire, from Three?” Caesar asks.

Reed is nodding slowly, “Blaire seems to be older than her. She seems to know him from her week inside of the Capitol, so she must have talked to him at some point or another.”

“She said that Blaire, Finnick and Thyme were supposed to be allies.” Mox says, “And that other girl from Three, too. (Y/n) might have been caught between two alliances and she chose the careers in the end.” Mox says.

Reed motions to Mox, “She probably hasn’t killed him because she considers him as a friend.”

Caesar nods, “You know that so far she has five kills inside of the arena?”

Reed wants to whistle, because it’s a pretty high number, especially for her. She always used to say that she’d try and outlast the others as much as possible. But inside of the arena, she’s doing the exact opposite. Reed guesses that there’s a difference between watching, and actually being in there. Your mindset changes and all of that.

“Yes.” Reed says, and he knows that a lie won’t hurt in this moment, “And before you ask, yes, I did expect that from her. She said that she would win, and we told her that she would, so she’s going to do what she has to.”

“Even killing her two friends?” Caesar tilts his head.

“Even killing her two friends.” Reed repeats.

“What did you think of her act with Allio? Smart or stupid.”

Mox breathes out a laugh, “It’s a dangerous game to play and everyone can see that. Her allies aren’t stupid, so I don’t doubt that won’t catch on. It’s just a question of whether or not she’ll see that.”

The audience is murmuring, Caesar is checking the time. It’s almost over, “We’re almost out of time. Reed, if there was anything you could tell her right now, what would it be?”

Reed takes in a deep breath, “I’d tell her that she’s nearly home, and she needs to be careful with the next moves she ends up making. Towards the ends of the games, things tend to get chaotic, and I’m sure she knows that. All she has to do is continue to make the games predictable, and she’ll be home in no time. Keep your head up, (Y/n). We love you, and we’ll see you soon.”

Mox takes a moment, the angry feeling has faded with him. He too, takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself, “I’d tell her that I love her. She already knows what she’s doing, all she needs is reassurance. (Y/n) has a plan, and she’s sitting pretty. I can’t wait to see her again.”

Caesar’s got a slow smile spreading over his face, “Thank you for your time, Gallow’s family. (Y/n) has been amazing so far, and I can’t wait to see what she does next!” the camera is zooming out, the audience is cheering loudly. It’s over, Caesar motions to the screen behind him, a grin on his face, “Ladies and gentlemen, the family of District Four’s very own (Y/n) Gallows!”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair lacuna #lacuna #lacuna the interview

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kimmiherself · 3 years

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CHAPTER ONE: THE BOYFRIEND

I knew I wasn't crazy but I could be a little control freak and a tad bit obsessive-compulsive at times. I had a tendency to get anxious if things around me weren't organized. I couldn't ask the world to keep it that way for me but I could control my environment. I always kept my bedroom clean and in order, with all my books and stationaries piled up neatly on my side table, my dresser a display of beautiful things I had collected over the years—cute buttons, old jewelries, broken pearls and other beads, a ballpen with green feathers attached to one side and a matching notebook that was my diary, along with the array of headbands and hairclips, as well as my hygiene products, while every other nook of my bedroom—even the ceiling—showcased my collections of stuffed toys and every other cute and green thing that matched the mint-colored walls and linens. I didn't have much but I had decent clothes that consisted mostly of t-shirts and pants—I never liked to wear anything without a sleeve. I'd pile them up neatly in my closet, with the width of the folds always uniform and parallel to each other. I always kept everything in order and I would immediately notice if something had been moved or wasn't in its place. That's just who I was. Things should be planned. Things should be organized. And it was frustrating whenever things didn't go my way.

But there were things that I didn't plan but surprised me, anyway. Like meeting my boyfriend, Matthew.

I first met him at an inter-school event. I was in second year of high school and he was in his last. We both went to private schools but in different districts. When our schools decided to work together for a radio broadcasting competition, I had to team up with Matt's group for a few days before the actual event and literally holed up in one room with the group for another day or two during the actual event, which was hosted in another school.

He barely caught my eyes at first. Meeting new people was awkward and a little difficult for me. I mostly kept to myself and only talked if asked to. Until I noticed those little giggles erupting around me and the looks the other members of the group shot each other, which was becoming more and more distracting each day. This guy, the group's leader, would just shrug it off. When our eyes met one time, he gave me an apologetic smile, which only brought more giggles from the others. I froze and, suddenly, became very self-conscious. I didn't want to assume but I believed the group was teasing him about me, which brought out conflicting feelings from within me.

I always tried to look neat and presentable, as if I had a mother doing that for me just as how my friends' mothers seemed to be doing to their kids, but that didn't mean I was confident to say I was pretty. Honestly, I believed I looked at least average. My long, straight hair was a product of my yearly visit to the salon. I hated every wave and curl of my hair so I kept them straight by acquiring the magical services of hairdressers. My face was too simple that it wouldn't stand out in the crowd. My eyes too large. My lips too full. My height average. I also hadn't shed most of the baby fats in my midsection and it was one thing I really disliked about myself. Well, to keep the points even, my skin was naturally fair. It just wasn't as fair as Kendra's—the person I'd hate to compare myself with the most.

Kendra topped the long list of girls at school who had brought up my insecurities. People claimed she was the prettiest. Her skin the fairest. Her face the most angelic. Her voice could even summon the angels if she'd like. Her dance the most graceful. Her body a perfect structure. And when I knew some boy I had a crush on liked her first, I flipped. I claimed not to mind but I did. I kind of felt embarrassed to sit next to her. She was a year younger than I was but we mostly ended up performing in various events together. There was one time I was called to become one of her back-up dancers during a competition and it really irked me. For days, I wondered how nice it would be to switch places with her. I believed I was the better dancer. I couldn't sing, though. And she really was beautiful—I paled in comparison to her. But the thought was a bitter pill to swallow. I kind of hated her for being too perfect. Kendra really brought out the worst in me, and she didn't even know.

Someone liking me was both confusing and unbelievable to me. There was only one boy who openly showed his feelings to me, and sure I liked him too. For a while, I was obsessed with him and of our budding friendship. But the moment someone made a comment about me growing taller and bigger than he was, my feelings died out like a candle blown. And he liked Kendra first. Like most boys in school did. It just also didn't sit well with me to become someone's consolation prize because he didn't win the grand prize. Aaron was a good guy, though. My insecurities just gnawed on me.

Matthew's appearance to my life was unexpected but pleasant. The teasing during the competition even intensified when Matthew called my name during script-reading instead of someone else's. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of his presence. I knew where he was in the room without looking. I anticipated hearing his voice during practices. And I had become exceedingly conscious of myself when he was there. I realized how magnetic his eyes were behind those thin slits and how sheepish his smile was. And it unnerved me whenever he chose to throw that smile at me. When the actual competition came, he stood next to me and it was the closest he ever was with me during the entire event. We never talked, though. We only ever had our timid stares whenever our eyes met.

While we never talked during those first few days, we spent months and months of talking through the phone during the duration of our relationship. It started with friendly chats and warm conversations. He would always throw compliments at me and say he was very lucky I was giving him any attention. I felt luckier. I never knew having someone to listen to all my internal dialogues was that satisfying. The constant communication bound us together despite the aching distance. He wrote the most romantic messages and the most heartfelt promises that I fell in love with him almost instantly. He was pretty poetic but always sounded so mature. He took up Mass Communication in college and I thought it suited him best. Matt had his way with words...and words were all we had for each other.

For almost two years of being together, we had only met four times. The first time was during the earliest part of our relationship. There was an event at school and he surprised me by visiting. I ruined that when I just screamed upon seeing him and ran home. I literally ran away, dragging one of my friends with me. It took only a second and I was gone.

The second was unexpected. My mother had to process some documents in the city for her flight back to work. My sister and I went looking for a copier machine and, lo and behold, Matt was standing in the middle of a busy alley, his gaze locked on mine. Everything around us seemed to move in slow motion as I stared back at him, my heart beating erratically. I couldn't even remember if we talked. The fear of having us found out by my parents superseded my excitement so, again, I rushed away as fast as possible.

The third time we met lasted about thirty minutes. We had our first date. A really short one, though. I snuck away from our school event to meet him at lunch. It wasn't even a real lunch, but I couldn't care less. Finally, I was with him. I had been wanting to see him for what seemed like forever. While we talked endlessly on the phone, we barely did in real life. I was shy, awkward, and couldn't even mutter a word without stuttering. I had been trying to write our love story that time and I wanted him to read it. I was hesitant at first but he was already so curious that he had to read it. I watched his lips twitch a few times as his eyes scanned my words, and I felt the contents of my stomach trying to come back up. It was embarrassing. I didn't know what he thought about it but seeing him smile somehow calmed my nerves. It was the shortest date ever that one could hardly call it a date. But he was sweet and a real gentleman too. He never even touched my hand, which I had been hoping he would. I wanted to hold him...to feel he was there. Like he was real. Like what we had was real. It was weird how close it felt we were on the phone but how distant we actually were in real life. I started thinking about the reality of it all. Was I just hallucinating things? Did he really love me back? I started to doubt everything.

The fourth time we met was in the city. I had to attend to an overnight school activity and the morning after I had to sneak away to see him. No one knew about it. The sun had just been up and I had to see him in my pajamas for I was still waiting for my turn in the bathroom. We met outside the dormitory my group was staying at and sat on a bench nearby. I had started wearing my prescription glasses by that time and regretted doing so when he asked me about it. I probably looked hideous. I hadn't even taken my bath yet. Everything that morning just made me feel so embarrassed once again. We were together for like ten minutes, with me just squirming in my seat as he looked at me. Again, I couldn't remember what we talked about—if we ever did, but I remembered him taking off his black rubber bracelet that had a knot in the middle and slid it up my wrist. "To remind you of me," he said. As if he ever left my mind. The slight grazing of his skin over mine was enough to make me dizzy and it didn't help that my heart was pumping like crazy. He left shortly after that, seeing we both had full days waiting for us. And when he waved his final goodbye, he said he loved me.

I loved him too.

But being Matthew's girlfriend wasn't entirely easy. As a matter of fact, it was too difficult and too complicated that I always found myself crying at night. It was because of this relationship that I met loneliness and learned it was a terrible companion.

Being in college and living in the city away from his family hadn't always been easy for Matthew. He had dreams and he had been doing his best to achieve them, even if it meant he had to take part-time jobs here and there just to support his education. He was always responsible and I never knew anyone who worked as hard he did. Even in high school, he already part-timed as a radio DJ. I was very proud of him. He inspired me to work very hard myself so I could reach my dreams too, although him working that hard meant our relationship would be put to the least of his priorities. I knew I mattered to him...he just didn't have the time for me yet.

And it left me wrecked. He had broken up with me multiple times that I lost count already. He told me he couldn't keep a relationship while life was beating the hell out of him and added I was too young and too naive to even understand. But he couldn't seem to leave me alone for long too. It was that uncertainty that kept me awake at night. He said he loved me even after dumping me. He said I'd just have to hold on and wait for him to be ready. He said we'd be together once I finished high school—he let me promise that one. Matt said I'd just have to be patient.

Then he would disappear for weeks.

Those days were torture to me.

Loneliness started eating me. I'd wake up feeling nothing and I would go to bed feeling like the world just crashed on my shoulders. There were days I'd wreck everything in my bedroom and I'd snap at anyone who tried to come near me. There were days that I hated everyone, even my friends at school, and just holed up in the library after class. But mostly, I'd cry myself to sleep. And it didn't help that every song on the radio seemed to mock me. Then I'd start feeling like sleeping and never wanting to wake up.

I tried to forget him and focused all my attention to school, and it became an obsession. When mother was talking about possible universities and colleges for me, she mentioned I could go to the country's capital and study there. But flying across the country, stretching the distance between Matt and I into thousands and thousands of kilometers, wasn't an option for me. Despite the uncertainties and the heartaches, I'd rather be near him, like a moth ever so tempted to embrace the flame.

There was only one college for me. My brother said it was one of the best and it was in the same city as Matt's. I wasn't actually looking forward to become a nurse but I also didn't have anything I particularly liked at the moment. I was merely following my brother's footsteps and it didn't sound so bad at all. But to get to that college, I would have to ensure my scholarship that promised a hundred percent off the tuition fee, even though I never once had been pressured by my family about it. I just didn't want to add to my mother's burden and it also made me feel good to study at a college with the word best attached to it. So I had been studying really hard and I had also been joining all the extra-curricular activities that would hopefully earn me points and help me graduate at the top of my class. For a while, it took my mind off my broken heart.

But, as I said, Matthew couldn't leave me alone for long. He would pop right back up when I had started getting used to his absence. It was becoming exhausting but I couldn't seem to let go of him too, so I'd jump back again to this vicious cycle.

Five months and I'd be off to college. Matthew and I had gotten back together and jumpstarted our relationship once again. It was as exhausting as ever but the thought of seeing him at the end of this waiting game was enough to keep me going. Matthew had becoming more and more distant and inattentive each passing day but I believed he was just really busy tossing himself between school and work that he could hardly find the time to check his phone. Still, I couldn't help but wallow in his absence. He even forgot about my birthday and it crushed me so hard. He promised he'd see me but it never happened. I tried getting his attention though, but it was worthless. I only looked like a clingy, immature, whining little girl who couldn't wait to get her candy.

I knew I'd been really annoying but Matt was still sweet and kind with his words whenever he found the time to check up on me. "You know you're my sunshine, right?" he asked once, in between my silly attempts of getting his attention. I didn't actually know how he had been doing and it made me feel guilty. I hoped I'd brought him more happiness than headaches. "We'll be together soon. You just have to wait," he always said. And those were the words I held on to.

Soon.

Very soon.

#novel writing #love story #romance

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obsessedwithbbandsuju · 4 years

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Forever

*Dialogue Prompt #3 for @2ya2yao‘s Super Junior Prompt Fic Challenge

Well. If someone asked him, he would insist that it wasn’t mischief. It was for science, and his girlfriend was the subject.

Pairing: Park Jungsoo/Son Taeyeon

jagi: a Korean word that can be used to refer to one’s significant other

___

The name Leeteuk wasn’t really associated with mischief in the idol world. Leeteuk was supposed to be the responsible leader of Super Junior, the tired mother who did his very best to keep a merry gang of crazy men sufficiently under control. And in some ways, Jungsoo knew, that was who Leeteuk was. But Leeteuk could also be mischievous, and right now Jungsoo was up to some mischief.

Well. If someone asked him, he would insist that it wasn’t mischief. It was for science, and his girlfriend was the subject.

Taeyeon was notorious for being good at, well… everything. Not only musically – though certainly that too – but athletically, linguistically, academically, practically, socially – he didn’t have the time on his hands to name it all. Not once had he seen her fail, or even so much as rattled.

And Jungsoo loved how capable she was. He did. But she had to have some weakness, right? It just wasn’t plausible that a human being could be such a natural in every field. There had to be something, and he was determined to find out what it was.

“Come on, jagi,” he whined into the cell phone, throwing in the jagi, a word he rarely used, to let her know how desperate he was. “I have to go soon, and Shimkoong is absolutely refusing to go where I usually leave her when I’m away. I don’t know who else to count on. Please?”

“Okay, okay. You always know how to get what you want.” On the other end of the line, there was amusement in Taeyeon’s voice as she accepted his request. Jungsoo gave a mental shout of triumph. “Thanks, Taeyeon. I’ll have her over soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The sincerity that rang when she said those words warmed his heart, distracting him from his plotting, even for just that second.

Once she’d hung up, he scooped his dog into his arms and gotten into his manager’s car, asking him to head quickly to Taeyeon’s apartment before they arrived at the filming location. Usually they stayed together in his place, but with both of their schedules packed for most of the days of the current month, they’d decided it might be more convenient to stay apart from some time so the all the chaos didn’t clash in one apartment.

At his girlfriend’s place, Jungsoo watched Shimkoong intently as he handed her over to Taeyeon, who stroked the dog’s head and cooed. Shimkoong tended to get rather cranky in unfamiliar places, especially when he wasn’t around, and when she got cranky she could keep it up for several days at time, running around and barking and refusing to listen – which was what he was counting on. He thanked Taeyeon one more time with a kiss on the forehead, to which she laughed and swatted him away playfully. Before he left for the broadcast he was filming that day, though, she still sent him off with a kiss on the lips (since he insisted) and a “good luck”.

The filming took the better part of the day, and they paused in between only for a thirty-minute lunch break and forty-five-minute dinner break. By the time he was finished, Jungsoo was exhausted, but there was one thought that kept energy coursing through his body. He headed over to Taeyeon’s apartment, fully expecting to arrive to a relentless Shimkoong scampering around, barking up a storm, and an annoyed girlfriend. But when he walked in through the door, he saw his dog running up to him happily, wagging her tail. Trailing behind her came Taeyeon, looking calm and collected as ever. She shot him a smile, almost like she knew what his scheme was.

Jungsoo pouted.

Jungsoo stared at the instruction booklet in his hand and then back at the scattered parts of the new computer he had bought and was trying to assemble. He’d made some progress, but the pieces were still far from a working device, and he couldn’t help feeling that this was his limit; he had had yet another filming for another variety show earlier that day, he was tired and hungry, and the fact that the instruction manual’s font size was probably about five wasn’t helping matters. Huffing through his nose in frustration, he set the booklet down, glaring at the parts in front of him. And then an idea came.

“Taeyeon?” he called. He heard footsteps, and then she appeared from the hallway, her hair tied back messily in a ponytail.

“What is it?” she asked, kneeling next to him and rubbing his back soothingly. Jungsoo was silent for a second, melting into the sensation of her slim fingers against his skin through the thin T-shirt he wore.

Gathering himself, he turned to her with puppy eyes that he reserved only for her sight, probably because they wouldn’t have the slightest millimeter of an effect on the other members. “Do you think you could help me with this?”

Taeyeon glanced down at the mechanical parts strewn across the floor, then at the instruction manual that Jungsoo was still holding. To his surprise, she flashed him a small smile.

“Of course.”

A little restless with anticipation, Jungsoo handed her the manual. She squinted at its text, read one of the lines, stared down at the pieces for a moment, and then got to work.

About an hour later, the computer was put together nicely, its polished black plastic and metal practically glinting under the lights. Jungsoo held down on the power button, and the newly-assembled device turned on without a hitch.

He huffed.

When he’d suggested a walk to his girlfriend, this was not what he’d had in mind. He had just wanted a peaceful stroll in the moonlight with Taeyeon and Shimkoong, a chance to unwind after all the hecticness of the past two months. It didn’t seem like much of a request, but apparently the universe had deemed that it was.

Because they’d run into three of the many juvenile delinquents that often roamed the streets of Seoul at night while under the impression that they were grown and could do whatever they wanted. (It was a phase everyone went through in their late teens, though thankfully the majority didn’t let it get so out of hand that they began committing borderline illegal acts.) The kids couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, maybe twenty tops, but they sure had strutted right up to Jungsoo and Taeyeon like they were professional criminals.

Jungsoo calculated in his head the risks. He didn’t really want to run; it would feel silly fleeing from practically children, but getting in a fight didn’t seem very appealing either. Both of them were wearing caps to partially conceal their faces, and the dark was helping, too, but still, the consequences of a celebrity getting in a fight… no, they weren’t worth it.

On her leash, Shimkoong was snarling and barking.

“Cute dog, mister,” the kid in the front, a tall but thin boy with ripped jeans and a black jacket, smirked as he eyed Shimkoong blatantly. Nerves flaring, Jungsoo fought the urge to glare. His eyes flicked sideways toward Taeyeon who had just been standing next to him a second ago, but now she wasn’t there anymore. She’d stepped forward in the path of the delinquents, posture unnervingly relaxed. If Jungsoo was just a passerby he would have thought she was someone who often picked fights on the street, too.

“We’re trying to take a walk, so it would be nice of you to go on your merry way,” she said calmly.

The atmosphere was full of uneasiness; Jungsoo’s muscles were tense, Shimkoong’s fur stood on end, and there was visible aggression in the delinquent’s stare as he looked down at Taeyeon.

Eventually, though, he spat sideways in an attempted show of dominance, saliva flying from his mouth and landing with a splat on the street. Jungsoo fought the urge to wrinkle his nose, and Shimkoong gave a very soft growl. Taeyeon didn’t move.

“Tsk. Whatever, slut.” The delinquent’s voice was somewhere between sullen and purposefully dismissive, like he was trying overly hard to sound though. “Come on, guys. Let’s not waste time on this cuck and his bitch.”

Without another word, the three kids stalked off, glancing back occasionally at Jungsoo and Taeyeon with slight unease as if they were afraid they were going to attack them from behind. Jungsoo couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit of pity; he knew that brash hotheadedness mixed with crippling insecurity and nearly animalistic desire to prove yourself of early adulthood, and it was a no pleasant feeling. But he couldn’t feel any kindlier towards them than that, on account of the slurs their leader had used to refer to Taeyeon. Only once the three of them had vanished from sight from several seconds did he relax.

The entire time, though, Taeyeon hadn’t blinked an eye once (figuratively speaking). Slightly awed at his girlfriend’s composure, Jungsoo threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing. She glanced at him, and it somehow wasn’t a surprise to see her instantly smiling again.

“Doesn’t anything scare you?” He was half-chiding, because he would feel better if she was more cautious, but half-asking, because she legitimately had not seemed fazed.

Taeyeon squeezed his hand back with a shrug. “Plenty of things do, but not a few delinquent kids.”

Hyukjae, Donghae, and Ryeowook were fighting. About what, Jungsoo didn’t know. All he knew, or cared to know, was that he, eyelids practically drooping from filming since seven A.M. that morning, was just trying to sleep early for once when he’d been interrupted in his preparations to crash by the sound of the three members’ raised voices.

All of them had moved temporarily back into the dorm recently because they had several group schedules coming up that required long hours of driving and decided it would be more convenient to just go at the same time, rather than every member setting off and arriving at different hours depending on the traffic in their area. On one hand, it was nice because it was nostalgic; it took him back to the time when they were young and vigorous and the burden of their fame hadn’t quite caught up to them yet. On the other hand, Jungsoo felt like he was fucking dying. He’d forgotten how uncontrollable it could get with all of them living in the same space.

A few hours ago, Taeyeon had come over and spent the night at the dorm, eating dinner with them while rolling her eyes several times at the teasing from the other members to keep things private in the bedroom. They did not, in fact, have any intention of doing anything that night, for the sake of being courteous of everyone else, and it would be more than nice enough to fall asleep next to her.

Jungsoo just wished he’d get to lay down in peace.

“What do you mean, me? You’re the one who’s at fault here!” Ryeowook’s shrill voice rang through the dorm. Jungsoo groaned, suppressing the urge to shriek into the pillow. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.

Taeyeon must have seen the will to live fading from his eyes, because she sympathetically patted his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jungsoo took another calming breath. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” That was one way to put it. A more accurate way would be “I’m just done with this bullshit” or something along those lines, but he restrained himself.

“That’s understandable. Go and sleep, I’ll sort everything out,” Taeyeon suggested, giving him a light push toward the bed. Jungsoo sat down on the mattress, pointedly ignoring another bout of loud arguing from outside. “Are you sure?” She should know better than anyone how difficult his members were to deal with.

“It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with how Super Junior works,” she reassured him, amusement in her voice. “I’m still hanging around you people, which means I’m picking up some of your insanity – since that’s the only way to survive around this group.” She wasn’t exactly wrong. Maybe none of them had been exactly normal since the beginning, but being around each other had only amplified the chaos over the years.

“Okay, I’m counting on you then,” Jungsoo said, laying down with a sigh of bliss. She patted his head and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before leaving the room, flicking the light switch off as she did and closing the door tightly. Jungsoo stared after her, wondering how well she would fare.

Miraculously, he drifted off, but the concern over what had become of the argument must have been eating at him more than he realized, because only two hours later, he found himself blinking up into the darkness. It was quiet outside, but a quick glance at the door showed him that the lights of the living room were still on, which meant at least some of the other members were still awake. Taeyeon wasn’t back, either.

Rubbing his eyes, he got up out of the bed and peeked out into the hallway. The way his door was positioned, he had a fairly good view of Hyukjae, Donghae, and Ryeowook sitting together on the sofa, talking quietly but cheerfully. Clearly, they had made up. Perched just a little distance away, watching the three with the expression of a satisfied mother, was Taeyeon.

She was even good at mediating arguments.

I give up. Jungsoo was about to admit that he’d lost. Apparently, his girlfriend was just perfect – good at everything on top of being funny and intelligent and beautiful. He was ready to just accept that he’d been lucky enough to somehow snag a superhuman for a partner.

He couldn’t even find anything bad to say about her cleaning, he noted, as he glanced over his shoulder at her, kneeling in a corner and wiping away dust. They had decided they’d spend the day today tidying up his apartment; something that Jungsoo was used to and liked doing, but there was a new kind of enjoyment in it when his girlfriend was there doing it with him.

He was engrossed in wiping down some of the drawers when Taeyeon shrieked – a terrified, shocked, shrill, and entirely alien noise. Alarmed, Jungsoo spun around in her direction to find her staring underneath one of the windowsills with horror in her eyes before she distanced herself from it at the speed of light. Bewildered, he abandoned what he was doing hurried over, wondering what it possibly could be that she’d seen. He had never heard her sound so frightened; she’d hardly even flinched when they were watching The Wailing together, so what could have scared her so badly now, especially in his apartment?

“What is it? Is there something there?”

Taeyeon looked over at him, disgust marring her greyish-hazel eyes. “There’s a spider!”

Jungsoo stopped in his tracks, dumfounded. A spider?

Approaching the windowsill and looking under it, he saw that she was right – there indeed was a tiny, light brown spider there, settled among its webs.

He glanced back at Taeyeon, whose gaze was still fixed under the windowsill like residing there the most monstrous abomination that had ever existed. “Jagi, it’s just a spider.”

“Just a spider?” She sounded practically furious that he’d dared use the word just in reference to a spider; in fact, this might be the most rattled he had ever seen her. “Kill it already!”

Jungsoo chuckled. He couldn’t help it. After all the ridiculous antics he’d done to try and pinpoint anything that might faze his girlfriend, this was it? A tiny spider? Sure, he might not be fond of arachnids, but her visceral reaction was on another level.

“Not funny,” Taeyeon muttered from behind him, flicking him on the back of the head as punishment for his amusement. Jungsoo turned around to face her, unable to stop smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just… I didn’t think a spider would be the thing to crack your composure.”

“Oh, shut up and get rid of it,” she hissed, furrowing her brows at him in displeasure. Obediently, Jungsoo knelt in front of the windowsill and disposed of the spider with a piece of toilet paper. As he stood, he noticed Taeyeon backing up, eyeing the crumpled paper in his hand warily.

“You know a tiny spider can’t hurt you. Especially if it’s dead,” he pointed out.

“It’s not about hurting me,” Taeyeon admitted, her nose wrinkled. “I just hate spiders. They’re… disgusting. Now will you please throw that away?” She had inched further away from him. Well, not him specifically; it was the toilet paper with the squashed spider that held all her animosity.

Ever the dutiful boyfriend, Jungsoo obeyed and made his way to the bathroom, where he flushed the arachnid. As he washed his hands, he glanced at Taeyeon, who had been peeking in to confirm with her own eyes that the spider was long gone. “Better?” he asked, amused.

“Better,” she huffed. “You think this is real amusing, don’t you?” The words were an accusation, but, now that the spider was completely gone, she seemed to have relaxed. There was playfulness in her tone, and she was smiling faintly.

Washing his hands as he formulated a response, Jungsoo decided there was no point in hiding it – she’d already caught on. “It’s just… you always seem to be a natural at everything. For a spider of all things to freak you out so much is funny.”

“Well. I never thought you’d have such a cleaning obsession when I first met you, either,” Taeyeon retorted, but her voice was mild.

“Ouch, low blow. What did you think I’d be like?” Jungsoo challenged as he wiped his hands with the towel. He was genuinely curious; by her own admission she’d been a Super Junior fan since their debut, which meant that she must have known something about him even before they met for the first time during a broadcast. He forgot which one – they’d seen each other several times for business over the years, although it was only in 2014 when she worked with Super Junior for their MAMACITA album that they’d become closer than just acquaintances.

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I thought you’d be more naturally witty. I thought you wouldn’t complain and nag as much as you actually do. I thought you wouldn’t be so awkward when you flirt. I thought you’d give me less cheesy pickup lines.”

“Jagi…” Jungsoo complained.

Smiling, Taeyeon closed the gap between them with a light hop and reached up to take his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss. When she pulled away, Jungsoo flushed, not having expected the sudden display of affection. There were times when his girlfriend could seem slightly detached, but other times, she was touchy-feely like this.

“I love you, Jungsoo,” Taeyeon said simply, dropping all honorifics from his real name in the way that made him shudder a little under her hands. “I love everything that you are. Cheesy pickup lines and all.”

She went to move away, but Jungsoo grasped her shoulders and pulled her to him so their foreheads were touching. She was significantly shorter than him, but the height difference was just suited so that he could look directly into her eyes like this. God, she was beautiful. Almost unconsciously, he brushed his thumb over the soft skin of her face.

“I love you too.” The words were barely a whisper.

With a smile, Taeyeon cupped his face in her hands. “I don’t say this often, but I want to right now,” she said. “I love you, and I’m going to protect you from anything.”

The rush that flooded him made Jungsoo heady and breathless, his veins burning like he was being scorched from the inside out with the heat of his emotion. “For how long?” he murmured, stroking his fingers across her cheek.

“Forever.” She kissed him.

#super junior scenarios #super junior reactions #super junior imagines #super junior #leeteuk scenarios #leeteuk reactions #leeteuk imagines #leeteuk #park jeongsu #my writing

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theunluckiestchat · 4 years

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Remembrance 7

It was truly summer. The sun sitting high on sky, the heat making the skin sweaty and sticky. People in every direction having something cold in their hand, like an ice cream or milkshake. Adrien couldn’t wait for later in the day when it would be him holding an ice cream and sharing it with his new girlfriend. It only took their second date to make it official and Adrien couldn’t be happier about it. Being with Marinette was like an amazing dream. And he never wanted to wake up.

“Almost there now” Nino said from where he was walking beside him and Adrien smiled at the words. Almost by Marinette. “Do you think it’ll be awkward?”.

At those words though, Adrien frowned.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“You know, dude. Being around Luka. And Marinette. At the same time.” as Nino said it, he gave him a pointed look.

With explanation, Adrien of course knew what he was talking about. Except it was such a non-issue that he almost had to laugh.

“It’s not gonna be awkward” he said, and couldn’t help the few giggle that escaped his mouth. “They were only together for a few months and it was years ago. Besides, Luka and I are friends. We wouldn’t let something like this make it awkward”

Adrien felt confident in the truth of his words. The relationship between Marinette and Luka was so long ago and so short-lived that it seemed like everyone basically forgot it happened. To be fair, he didn’t exactly know how Luka felt about the fact that ‘Adrinette’ (as Alya had dubbed it) was a thing now, but he doubted it bothered him much. They had talked a few times since the first date with Marinette and Luka hadn’t seemed anything but happy for them.

“Still, you’re dating his ex” Nino said, his eyebrow furrowed.

Once again, all Adrien could do was laugh. They were only a few meters away from the Couffine’s houseboat now and had already been spotted by the people on it. He saw his girlfriend wave to him which he returned with a giant smile.

“By that logic” Adrien said to Nino. “Marinette and Kagami shouldn’t be able to hang out. Do you wanna tell them that?”

He didn’t want to do that, if the way his eyes widened was any indication. Adrien just grinned and boarded the boat. He immediately made a beeline for Marinette, who was sitting off to the side from the others, behind a camera.

Four chairs had been set up at the center of the deck. Juleka, Rose and Luka occupied three of them, while Alya sat in the last one across from the rest, with a camera set up next to her. Rose was in the middle of recounting some story of one of the times she had met Ladybug and Chat Noir. She was talking about how determined Ladybug had been to make sure everyone was safe, and that she had complimented Rose’s outfit. Adrien couldn’t help but smile. That sounded like Ladybug.

Next to him, Marinette put a hand on her head and groaned quietly. When he looked at her, he could see that her eyes were closed and her forehead was creased. He quickly took her hand and squeezed it. She looked up at him with slightly glassy eyes.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, to not disturb the recording.

Marinette smiled back, although it seemed a little strained. “I’m fine. I’ve just got a headache. I think I might be a bit dehydrated” she said, just as quietly, and leaned her head against Adrien’s shoulder.

He chuckled a little at that answer. “It’s important to drink a lot of water in this heat.”

“I know” Marinette groaned. “I just got so wrapped up in this project that I forgot I had to live. Alya had to force me to leave my room today. I was almost finished, too!” she said with pout. Adrien chuckled again and kissed the crown of her head. She was just so cute.

As he felt Marinette relax a little more and lean a littler heavier on him, he turned his attention back to the interview happening in front of him. Nino had placed himself right behind the camera, and seemed like he really wanted to make adjustments to how it was placed, but every time he tried to Alya subtly swatted his hand away. After a few moments of this he ended up sitting down beside Adrien instead, pouting even more than Marinette had.

“And what about Chat Noir? What was he doing during all of this?”

Adrien immediately paid more attention when he heard his alter ego’s name. No one could blame him for wanting to know what people thought of him, right? People’s opinions on Chat Noir were kind of interesting. While most people agreed that Ladybug had been a valuable and competent hero, what they thought about Chat Noir was really varied. Some people found him useless and immature, others said he was skilled and funny. They either loved him or hated him. Adrien had found a lot of arguments about it online. He probably shouldn’t read them since they usually made him either really angry or really sad, but it was hard to stop once he had started. He could only hope that his friends had good opinions of him.

“Oh! He was so wonderful!” Rose said and a huge smile appeared on Adrien’s lips. “He was playing with the kids, and joking with all of us. He just made all of us feel better, I wasn’t scared at all when he was talking to us!”

Juleka nodded at that. “Yeah. Once when I was freaking out during an akuma attack he stopped and talked to me for a minute and made me calm down” she smiled a little. “He was really awesome”

Adrien’s heart warmed at their words. When he was talking to civilians during akuma attacks, all he wanted was to make them feel a little better and a little safer. He was happy to know it had worked.

The interview was over just a few minutes later, and everyone stood up. Nino immediately made his way over to Alya and started making comments about camera angles and lighting. While the two of them bickered in the background, Juleka, Luka and Rose came over to Adrien and Marinette. Rose squealed as soon as she reached them, and grabbed Juleka’s arm.

“You’re so cute together! Aren’t they just adorable, Jules?”

Juleka smiled. “Yeah. It’s about time, too”

Adrien blushed and rubbed his neck awkwardly at the attention, while Marinette didn’t seem bothered at all. She just groaned loudly and flopped against his side dramatically.

“I know, right?” she said with a slight nudge in his side. “I put so much time into getting him to notice me, I deserve to reap the benefits now.”

Adrien chuckled, having heard a few stories about Marinette’s attempts to ask him out when they were teenagers. Based of off Rose and Juleka’s expressions though, he could guess there were a lot more attempts than the ones he had been told.

“You two really are awesome together.” Luka broke up the grimacing by saying, with that ever-present, easy-going smile. “You create such a harmonious melody. I would play it, but Alya said I wasn’t allowed to have my guitar anywhere near during the interview.”

This roused a few giggled around the group. Luka’s constant guitar playing was a well-known, inside joke in their friend group at this point. Adrien could still remember him playing even in the middle of akuma attacks. Which, of course, made the snake miraculous with its lyre for a weapon perfect for him.

What was even more perfect, was that Luka wanted to play a melody representing Adrien and Marinette, which meant that he was totally okay with them together, which meant Nino was wrong.

“I guess you’ll just have to play it for us another time” Adrien said once the laughter died down.

“Absolutely” Luka smiled back.

Take that, Nino.

“That’d be awesome, Luka” Marinette said while standing up. “Right now, though, I believe I was promised ice cream” she turned to look at Adrien and pulled his hand.

He stood up after her and put an arm around her shoulders. They hadn’t been together for very long, but the way they fit together already felt so natural. It was probably because of the fact that they had known each other for so long. At this point, Adrien truly felt like it was meant to be. Especially, when she smiled at him the way she was doing right now.

“Of course, princess!” he said enthusiastically and her smile only shined brighter because of it.

They quickly said goodbye to their friends and started their walk towards André’s ice cream cart. Marinette was talking animatedly about her latest projects, mostly about the design for Audrey Bourgeois. She kept going on about how she felt like she was so close to the perfect design, but just couldn’t quite get there and how frustrating that was. All Adrien could do as he listened to her, was smile. He loved hearing her talk. He loved how passionate she got, how her eyes sparkled and how she did so much problem-solving on the spot, just by talking about it. She was so clever and creative. He just loved… her.

They might have only been together for a couple of weeks, but she was sure. He loved her. He probably had for a long time before he realized himself. He had just been too hung up on Ladybug when they were younger to understand that what he felt for Marinette, was love. And he really wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell everyone. If he could, he would gladly broadcast across the entire world that he was in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

But he was scared. Adrien had never been one to shy away from proclamations of love before, Ladybug could attest to that. This however, was so different from the whole Ladybug, and even Kagami thing. This was so much more real. There were no barriers between him and Marinette. No secret identities or controlling parents. It was just them. And it was wonderful. Adrien didn’t want to lose that by going all in if Marinette wasn’t ready for it. Which is why he had resolved to following her lead. He didn’t mind it. He would gladly follow her anywhere.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrinette #adrienette #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #luka couffaine #ml juleka #ml rose #julrose #djwifi #my stuff #fanfiction #i finally wrote more of this #i'm proud of myself

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monstersdownthepath · 5 years

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Deity: The Great Rambler

True Neutral Outer God of Madness, Echoes, and Cryptic Prophecy

Domains: Chaos, Knowledge, Madness, Rune, Void Subdomains: Insanity, Whimsy, Thought, Truth, Language, Isolation Favored Weapon: Pen (dagger) Symbol: A fanged mouth vomiting a stream of words or runes. Sacred Animal: Gibbering Mouthers Sacred Color: Grey, black, pink.

Original creation; art by @blinkpen

Among the most unusual of all Outer Gods, the Great Rambler does not exist within the Material Plane as most of them do. It does not even reside in any plane within the Great Beyond, but in a free-floating location known as the City of Echoes that most scholars place somewhere within the Ethereal Plane in order to spare themselves some hair-pulling and infighting. From its position in the center of the City, the Great Rambler’s endless “sermons” can be heard from anywhere in the multiverse. No one is entirely sure just how the entity’s voice manages to pierce through even the most ironclad of planar barriers, but once one’s mind has been properly ‘tuned,’ they can hear the insane prattling of the creature no matter where they wander.

The City of Echoes is the true secret to how the Rambler can broadcast across planar boundaries. It is an endless array of metallic, geometric structures that rise, fall, reshape, and move about the surface of the City, their polished and brilliant surfaces reflecting images of every plane in existence (as well as ones that have yet to exist, do not exist now, and cannot exist). This secret has not been discovered yet because the City can never be reached--even by the divine--only observed from a distance. Though airless and lifeless, the entire City shudders and jostles from the sheer volume of the Rambler’s sermons, its voice powerful enough to form a solid barrier nearly a hundred miles in diameter that no creature can cross.

None can say when the City of Echoes was created, who created it, or why, though theories abound that it was once an instrument Desna or even Pharasma wielded in the past but discarded for reasons unknown. Similarly, knowledge of the Great Rambler is almost nonexistent, because like many Outer Gods it has hailed from a time before time. Unlike many Outer Gods, it seems to possess no objectives or plans, and is revered only by outcasts and manic sects within the Dominion of the Black. Many of the Gods and powerful Outsiders which know of its existence regard it as little more than an irritation that serves as a reason to avoid its stretch of the Ethereal Plane. Some scholars believe that it was once a Gibbering Mouther that grew to titanic size by consuming the tongues and voices of fallen gods, or that it is the progenitor or even a forgotten god which spawned or created the Gibbering Mouthers which their insane talk is a constant prayer to. Many a fool has been driven to frustrated madness by attempting to understand these ‘prayers,’ almost as many have been rendered insane or destitute with their attempts to decrypt the Rambler’s “sermon.”

The eternal sermon spoken by the Rambler was believed to be nothing more than an endless paragraphs of meaningless words that barely fit together. At first glance there may be some semblance of coherence among individual fragments or sentences, but... Well, in truth, listen for yourself:

“... no matter the crown on the head, no matter the deep growling autumn or delicious DELICIOUS shells may shine and shine and shine, the leyline-eater is punished for its foolish weight. Steel, steel, steel, steel, steps through the darkened slosh among the filtered-feeders and the glass men. What road? No road, there is none, stretching skywards until everything turns back around. Where shall one go next? A new cup has filled...”

Those tuned to the Rambler hear nothing but this lunatic litany until they break the connection. There are many debates on whether or not the Rambler is intelligent and aware, or if it’s merely regurgitating words it’s heard in random configurations like a colossal, brain-dead parrot. Those researching the eldritch and occult will say the very fact it is an Outer God may mean its intelligence works in a way far different than a mortal mind can understand, something which prompted the odd mage or two to attempt a screening for meaning in the sermons... And they found it.

Abstract, vague to the point of requiring hours of frustrated conjecture, and delivered in a way only a madman could understand, but it was meaning nonetheless. They were not merely insane, nonsensical ramblings, but prophecies and observations reflected through a lens that distorted (or hid?) it into apparent nonsense. The primary problem, however, is that the Rambler sees no need to actually get its information to the ones it actually pertains to, or perhaps it sees no difference between any particular listening mind and believes it is giving them to their intended recipients. Whatever the case, the creatures that need to hear them often don’t, or the words become lost in the sea of proclamations, which has resulted in the formation of the organization known as the Loyal Listeners; scribes who record, analyze, and translate everything the Rambler says in order to find the proper recipients (if any) for the information.

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Obedience and Boons

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The Loyal Listeners are by no means a large organization, but they do possess groups on more or less every continent on Golarion, as well as some small cells in other planes entirely. Each gathering can be anywhere from five to twenty people, though they frequently break up to travel the lands and distribute the Rambler’s words. In many locales, they can be seen as nuisances or loons as they stand on street corners or in town squares, reading off the sections of the sermon they recorded the previous day. These discordant dialogues are (perhaps rightfully) written off as crazy talk, but sometimes, sometimes someone hears something among the mess that... just clicks with them. Something that makes sense, if not immediately, then perhaps some time tomorrow, or next week, or further down the line. It’s these moments the Loyal Listeners look forward to, as it means the Rambler’s words reached the right ears.

While some may say that the Loyal Listeners are attributing meaning to the meaningless and simply spotting patterns where there are none that happened to have been right a few times, many of the Listeners simply explain that ‘seeing patterns in random nonsense’ was once a sentiment used to mock those who interpreted dreams. Their task may be difficult--and often impossible--but it does not stop them from undertaking it.

Despite this loyalty and their passion, the Rambler does not seem to notice its faithful, nor does it make any effort to communicate with any one being in particular. Moments where it seems to be speaking directly to someone are mere chance, and it does not acknowledge or respond to anyone speaking to it. Most of the Listeners are content with passive recording and distribution, as attempts to commune directly with the Outer God always end in failure... Sometimes disastrously so. Despite its ambivalence or ignorance of its faithful, it grants divine power nonetheless, and those who revere it directly can draw upon a well of power as deep and vast as that of any god.

As Outer Gods do not possess a dedicated Prestige Class for accelerating the power of their faithful, one can only enter the actual Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes to obtain Boons at a much faster pace. Otherwise, they are gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. One must have the Deific Obedience feat to enter into the mentioned Prestige Classes, and entering the classes as soon as possible allows one to obtain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

Obedience: Locate an area of relative silence to begin your worship. Open your mind to the Rambler’s sermons through meditation and the minor adjustment to your psyche via the use of specialized tuning forks*, letting its words fill your head until your own thoughts are pushed to the wayside. Listen to roughly 30 minutes of its sermon, then spend at least 30 minutes pondering on any meanings that its words may have. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus on saves against sonic or language-dependent effects and to Linguistics checks to decipher texts.

*Two of them are required, and they each cost 20gp. While usable for multiple Obediences, they can be difficult to replace if lost, stolen, or destroyed.

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: Threaded Words (Sp): Gain Command 3/day, Enthrall 2/day, or Confusion 1/day.

Boon 2: Xenoglossy (Su): Language is no barrier for an Evangelist of the Rambler. Any creature with a spoken language understands what you’re saying to them, and likewise you understand all spoken language. In addition, your habit of seeking meanings in the Rambler’s words makes deciphering the meager code talk of mortals child’s play; you immediately know when a creature you’re listening to is speaking in any form of code or conveying a secret message, and have a sacred or profane bonus to your Sense Motive checks equal to your total Hit Dice to analyze the phrase and understand what the other person is truly saying. Inversely, you have a sacred or profane bonus equal to your total Hit Dice on your Bluff checks to pass on coded messages to others.

Boon 3: The Eternal Sermon (Su): By opening your body and mind to the Rambler’s great and everlasting sermon, you can utterly and completely capture the wills of those nearby. You may cast Overwhelming Presence as a spell-like ability once per day, except it is a sonic effect instead of an emotion effect, and creatures breaking from the effect are confused rather than staggered. While Overwhelming Presence is in effect, you must must take no actions in order to maintain it; if you take any actions beyond maintaining the effect, the spell’s effect immediately ends on any creature still affected.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: Speak and Be Heard (Sp). Gain Clarion Call 3/day, Codespeak 2/day, or Sculpt Sound 1/day

Boon 2: Indomitable Oration (Su): Much like how the Rambler’s voice reverberates even through the airless City of Echoes, so to can the voice of the Rambler’s powerful faithful be heard above all lesser sounds. You cannot have your speech silenced, muffled, or warped unless you are physically prevented from speaking. Your voice--from your mundane speaking voice to your audible spells and everything in between--can be heard clearly over existing noise, through airless voids or crushing water, and even in areas of magical silence. Creatures who have a language but do not share a language with you hear word salads closely approximating what you’re saying, allowing you to convey simple concepts to them and affect them with language-dependent effects. You may suppress or resume this effect as a move action.

Boon 3: The Methods of Madness (Su): The Rambler’s prophecies may not make sense in the moment, but all things become clear in time. Its Exalted, more than anyone else, know this and have become experts at finding meaning in the meaningless. After completing your Obedience, roll three d20s and record the results of each; these are your ‘prophecies’ for the day. As an immediate action once per round, you may cause any creature that you can see to replace a d20 roll they’re making with one of these prophecies. You must declare your use of this ability before the roll is made. You cannot use a particular prophecy more than once, you can only learn three prophecies in a single 24 hour period, and any unused prophecies are lost once 24 hours pass.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: Dangerous Discourse (Sp). Gain Aphasia 3/day, Cacophonous Call 2/day, or Distracting Cacophony 1/day

Boon 2: Crushing Discourse (Sp): The Rambler’s voice can be heard everywhere, above everything, if one listens. By channeling its voice, its Sentinels can become devastatingly loud to imitate this. You may cast Shout three times per day as a spell-like ability, or you may expend all three uses of this ability to cast Greater Shout as a spell-like ability instead.

Boon 3: Listen Closely (Sp/Su): Not many creatures are keen on listening to the sermons of the Rambler, but this is no impediment to a powerful Sentinel. Once per day, you may cast Power Word Stun as a spell-like ability; this is not a compulsion ability, but rather a flooding of the target’s mind with the thundering words of the Rambler to the point it causes them to briefly black out. A creature not stunned by this utterance (such as through immunity to being stunned, or possessing too much HP to be affected) becomes automatically confused (as Confusion) for 1d4 rounds. This confusion is a mind-affecting effect.

#Original Concepts #ask to tag

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geejaysmith · 5 years

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Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it." This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here:

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here. This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

#wolf 359 #homestuck #classpect meta #holy crossover batman #wolf 359 classpects

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littlewheat · 5 years

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Wally West Headcannons

Because I love him and I can:

- He plays the piano really well. He learned because of his superspeed; since his perception of time also got affected, Alfred suggested to Batman to suggest to Barry that he learns the piano in order to have a tangible outlet for staying in real time. Wally doesnt broadcast it that much since it’s more of a stress reliever/coping mechanism all his own- but it is an occassional party trick he’ll whip out to surprise and impress people. Also, Alfred most definitely went “undercover” to teach little, freshly speedstered Wally the piano (as that was just a few years before he knew Batman’s secret identity)

- Wally ( and Barry ) speak a lot of langauges. I mean, they run around the world a lot and Wally relies heavily on food to sustain his speeds. It makes sense that he would stop for food a lot and as Flashes, the two would like to chat or help out with some local trouble, etc. So every year, Barry and Wally learn a new language together. They started with the “love languages” and quickly broadened their horizons.

-The language thing is actually an unspoken competition for them to speak more languages than Batman (I looked it up- he speaks 24 languages including Kryptonian) So of course the majority of the Justice League wants to help out their favorite speedsters. Superman lets Wally study in his Fortress of Solitude, Wonder Woman teaches them Greek and Latin, Shayera teaches them Thanagarian, M’Gann teaches Wally enough Martian to get by, Green Lantern sends language videos/books from fellow Green Lanterns to help Barry and Wally learn random alien languages that Batman isn’t likely to speak, etc. By age 23 Wally can speak 32 languages with imperfect fluency ( he’s awful with proper accents but has impeccable grammar )

-Bonus: Shayera basically refuses to teach Batman her langauge and her and Barry mock Batman by speaking it together whenever he’s in the room.

-Before Wally got his speed, he had a motor tic where he would blink a couple times and duck his head occassionally with an arm twitching out.That tick transferred over after he got superspeed but now its really fast and looks like a really fast spasm/cold chill. No one mentions it but they all think its incredibly endearing.

- Sometimes Wally slips into “relative time” where everything slows down. This tends to happen most while he’s reading or problem solving or doing homework and things like that- Sometimes he’ll be reading a book at what seems like a normal pace for him... until the pages are burning from the speed he was flipping them at. From an onlooker, Wally will start to blur along the edges and books genuinely appear to spontaneously combust.

-For his birthday one year, Dick Grayson tried to get Wally a really fast kindle that could match Wally’s “relative time” reading speed- after three versions blowing up, Wally and Dick agreed that books might be safer/less expensive anyways.

-People quickly learn that if they loan Wally a book... its likely to come back toasted or in ashes. So... no one really loans him books more than once.

-Wally runs in his sleep :)

-It’s not so much a headcannon as it is pure cannon, but Speedsters can’t get drunk since their metabolism is so fast that their body runs right through it. On Wally’s 21st birthday, GL brings him some alien booze thats like crazy strong and Wally hoofs it (as he is used to doing with no repercussions. ) He’s drunk for, like, three days.

-Also, on a sad note: While Wally’s powers are on the fritz and sort of killing him, He doesn’t tell anyone about it. Dick Grayson figures it out when he plays a drinking game with Wally where he takes normal alchohol shots and actually gets a little tipsy.

-Also, in regards to the Young Justice universe: I think Wally ( a guy who willingly got struck by lightning and doused in chemicals ) would not give up the hero biz. His powers were killing him and Barry and Artemis benched him- and out of solidarity, Artemis benched herself as well. Wally didn’t want to tell anyone - and as it was already majorly difficult for him and in the understanding that he deserves some control- Artemis and Barry agreed to keep it secret. Basically: Batman, Iris, Barry, Artemis and Hal Jordan know. Hence some frustration when he would jump in to help in “emergencies” - though anyone who knows Wally basically knew he did that with that exact reasoning in mind. That- in an emergency- he wouldn’t want anyone knowing he shouldn’t be helping...

- Wally can’t vibrate through solid objects for a while... He learns how to do so when he gets kidnapped or something and is super desperate. But when he does vibrate through things... they blow up. This is something he honestly can’t control for about as long as he couldn’t initially vibrate through things- but when he does learn to control it, he can still blow things up if he wants to ( eh, some pseudo science about speed and particles and things. )

- Wally is basically always covered in ice and plastic wrap, especially his shins.

- Wally is pretty nervous around storms. He sort of hates lightning. I suppose, if you were struck by it then it makes sense to understand and be wary of it happening again. That doesn’t stop Dick and Arty from making fun of him every time he flinches at a flash of lightning. It’s actually them trying to distract him as they know he’s low-key ready for it hit him (and with his enhanced perception, they know he watches the entire path the lightning takes to be sure it doesn’t arch towards them.)

-Wally loves Shazam and all but because of the lightning thing... the two have a sort of agreement ( enforced by a protective Robin ) where Billy/Shazam avoids switching personas near Wally. Or at least warns him when it happens. This of course is after the first time Batson shows everyone how his powers work and Wally sprinted to another state leaving a lingering yelp behind.

-Wally carries a lot of static with him. He shocks people sort of a lot. He touches something metal? There’s a jolt. He tries to harness this “bonus power” as something he can do at will (like Barry can throw lightning if he runs fast enough type of thing ) and after some practice, Wally can do what Barry does. But he has terrible aim. And his intent was to not have to run to use it. At best, he just gives a really strong static shock. He definitely uses it to annoy everyone.

-Alternatively, Wally also shocks people when he’s nervous. Many of Artemis and Wally’s first kisses resulted in numb lips for our blonde archer.

-Wally also vibrates when nervous, angry or excited. Take that in as many directions as you’d like. ;)

-Wally is a little bit terrible at swimming. Like he won’t drown. But water isn’t the same as air and super fast water treading has mixed results and his accelerated heart-rate makes holding his breath difficult and also, it’s only fair to have this super world function as ours does where swimmers hate to run and runners hate to swim. Trust me on this. Even outliers have one they’re better at. I would know.

- Wally is sort of the couch-surfer of the hero world. Maybe a small part of it is rooted in him trying to dodge his parents, but he genuinely likes to visit his friends. And as a speedster, he really doesn’t do well with staying in one place. So as the Team and everyone gets older, Wally tends to pop into Roy’s apartment, Dick’s flat, Alfred always has cookies for him at the Mansion, M’Gann and Conner’s house (and so on) entirely un-announced. He brings random “souveniers” along the way and basically everyone has taken to keeping extra foods just in case.

- I honestly think Wally is bisexual but he just genuinely never realized it and doesn’t care much. Like, maybe I’m projecting, but I’m bisexual and I never realized it until my first kiss was a girl and I just rolled with it. Like I didn’t even bat an eye- I was just like, “oh, of course.”- I’d been saying how pretty girls are for years and always thought it was an artist’s eye for beauty in all forms or something but like... bruh, I am bi. But also, its not a huge deal. And I think Wally is the same? Like he doesn’t realize it but also- I think his first kiss was a boy. And he just blinked and rolled with it. I also think that he wasn’t all that good at committing to one person (speedsters got places to be and people to see or something) Like he is far from “getting around”- I think he had like three kisses before Artemis and that she was his first relationship. The first was a guy, the second was maybe some chick he kissed at a school dance, the second was a stranger that Dick dared him to kiss on some random summer day when they were in civvies hanging out together and the fourth was Artemis. I think he’s just so casually bi that no one else even suspects it except those who know his kissing history or whatever.

I could honestly go on forever! If you guys write or draw anything based on this please let me know! I just wanna see my ginger more, tbh.

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 16)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Lewis POV, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Part 17: here

They soon exchange high sloping ridges for more desert flatland, pulling into a shabby town on sunset. It’s not as small as their own township, but it definitely has that slightly unkept feel Arthur associates with paces seeing high traffic with few long term residences. Isolated along a stretch of mostly empty highway the towns primary function- going by the collection of trucks parked between its many gas stations-appeared to be giving long-haul travellers a place to sleep.

Arthur has already picked out a motel among their limited options. A dishevelled building with a single row of rooms and empty car spaces. There is a small, box-like brick structure out front acting as the reception, and they are given a key by a woman who’s more interested in reading a magazine then interacting. Nothing is labelled, not even the door numbers, and they have to count their way down the row to get to the right room.

“Yuck,” Vivi’s loud comment drifts back from where she’s stepped into their temporary accommodation, “I’m going to have trouble sleeping with this mess distracting me all night.”

Arthur locks his van, giving the silent windows on either side of them a suspicions squint, stepping up onto the small stretch of pavement bordering the wooden motel door.

“It’s not that bad,” Lewis chuckles, stepping around into the room, giving Arthur a better view.

“You would say that,” Vivi retorts, “Seriously, I wonder about your sense of taste sometimes Lew.”

Cramped, is his first thought. Arthur inches into the room behind Lewis, eyeing the hideous pink and purple floral wallpaper. It’s an eyesore, and he’s not crazy about the colour. That, coupled with several overlapping old Persian rugs, gives the whole space a busy, claustrophobic vibe like the walls and floor are crowing in around them.

“It was the cheapest place that allowed pets,” He contributes to defend his choice, eyeballing the tassels on one of the rugs which have caught in the edge of the door, preventing it from opening completely.

“Hey. I wasn’t complaining. Just making an observation,” Vivi amends, giving the small room another judgmental stare.

“Also…There are only two beds,” Lewis interjects, motioning pointedly at the two double beds which occupy a majority of the room’s floor space. Actually, apart from the beds, there is only a scratched desk, chair, and door leading to an equally sad bathroom. How a room so sparse could feel so hectic was anyone’s guess.

“I can sleep in the van,” Arthur offers quickly, glancing between Vivi and Lewis. He’s not 100% sure how long they’ve been dating, and he doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable or get in their way. Also, if he sleeps in the van, he doesn’t have to worry about Vivi and Lewis noticing his nightmares, so it’s a win-win.

“No," Lewis’s attention swings onto Arthur, intense and penetrating, "I’ll sleep in the van. You stay in here Arthur. You need the rest more than me,”

“My sleep schedule is fine,” He protests weekly, forcing himself not to shuffle right back out the door to escape, “and I’m shorter so I’ll be more comfortable in the van.”

“No one is sleeping in the van,” Vivi interrupts, voice firm, “We’ll have plenty of opportunities to sleep in the van later. For now, Lewis, we’ll share a bed and build pillow wall between us, so everything stays nice and G-rated,”

“Uh,” Lewis chokes, focus flipping off Arthur like a rubber-band. He coughs, face reddening ever so slightly, “If you’re okay with that…then I’m fine sleeping with you. I mean, not with you with you, but, ah, you know.” Another cough.

“Of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Vivi’s also gone a light pink, but she also has a hand over her mouth to hide an amused grin. Lewis is still stuttering, growing more flustered by the second. Maybe Arthur has misremembered just how far along they were in this relationship, or maybe, younger Arthur had blown things out in this head like the depressed drama queen he’d been.

Either way, both his friends have momentarily forgotten about his existence, giving Arthur an excuse to escape the oppressive space and clear his head. He steps backward and out onto the pavement and almost trips over Mystery. A growl-like yelp follows the action. Arthur leaps up a pace, flinching to the side, startled. He stumbles on the small step, thankfully falling against the front of his van and not onto the concrete.

“Sorry…Mystery. Didn’t see you there,” He comments shakily, straightening, eyeing up the dog.

The last of the setting sun reflects in Mystery's eyes, giving them an ominous red tint. There is no denying the intelligence, bubbling just beneath his facade. Arthur swallows, arms and legs locking up, tense and ready to run. He should probably try for a pat like he usually would, but his apprehension is well on its way to fear and panic, so he doesn’t bother pushing himself.

However, Mystery seems content to watch in silence, and he gathers the courage to shuffle around to the van's side door and retrieve his shoulder bag and phone. Eventually, the dog heads into the motel room to involve himself in whatever awkward flirting Lewis and Vivi are participating in.

Arthur releases a slow breath, fiddling absently with his phone. He should call Uncle Lance while he has the chance and make good on his promise. Not that they’ll have much to say to each other, he has only been gone a day, but he should give it a go anyway. One stilted phone conversation coming right up. Arthur dials. The call goes through to voice mail after a couple of rings.

“Hey, Arthur! What are you doing out here?”

Vivi is leaning out of the motel room to get a look at the van and Arthur who is now sitting in the front passenger seat. Lewis also glances out from above Vivi’s head, giving Arthur another one of those scrutinising stares.

“Just giving my uncle a call, so he doesn’t panic thinking we’ve crashed or something,” He answers, shrugging naturally, putting his phone away. Uncle Lance is probably caught up in the workshop or has left his phone in some odd location where he can’t find it. He’s done it before.

“Yeah. I should probably do that too.” Lewis responds, relaxing his gaze, “Can’t have them worrying.”

“I don’t know what they think I’m doing when I hang out with you two,” Lewis trails off one part humour one part in exasperation, attention now focused on his phone, disappearing back inside.

Vivi smiles at Lewis’s back, snickering, before turning to Arthur.

“So, me and Lewis are sharing a bed, and you get the one near the window,” She explains, walking towards him. Arthur takes the opportunity to lean over the seat divide so he can hand Vivi her backpack along with Lewis's duffel bag when she nears the door.

“Unless you have any objections,” She peers at him while he climbs back out of the van, shutting and locking it behind him. Around them, the silent motel lot darkens, and the one, solitary street light flickers on.

“It’s fine,” He reassures even if he would have rather slept in the van, “Though, you’re right about the motel's decor. Next time, I’m only picking a place if it has photos,”

Vivi giggles, “It’s like Mrs Gale threw up. Bet she would love it here.”

Arthur laughs weakly at the dig at Vivi’s boss, unable to summon enough energy to really engage. He stifles a yawn. And he still needs to come up with an explanation for Lewis, clarifying his erratic behaviour earlier that morning.

“Alright. Let’s get hyped for some sleep. Tomorrow the actual road trip starts,” Vivi does a small fist pump, grabbing his hand and pulling him back inside where Lewis is chatting on the phone, sitting on the far bed, back facing them. Mystery is stretched out diagonally across the bed, forcing Vivi to push him off so she can construct a pillow wall to separate her and Lewis.

Everything is relatively fine-bar a few stiff exchanges with Lewis in which he successfully puts off explaining anything- up until they all head to bed.

Arthur ends up staring at motel ceiling long into the night. Hours tick slowly by while he traces the interlocking lines of the busy floral patterns plastered up above him. Gradually, second by second, eleven o'clock becomes twelve, then twelve becomes one. Around two in the morning Arthur releases a tiered frustrated sigh which is amplified a hundred fold by the oppressive silence.

This isn’t working.

He reaches for his keys, easily spotted in the dark due to the bulky multi-tool/ knife and other useful knick-knacks he has attached, finding the room key alongside them. For a few seconds, he listens for Vivi and Lewis’s soft breathing and Mystery’s huffs, figuring they're probably in deep sleep by now. Quietly, he inches out the motel room's door, shutting it softly behind him with a barely audible click.

The gentle hum of crickets and the occasional sound of tiers on the main road are a welcome change from the motel room’s muffled silence. There are several more cars in the parking lot now, all illuminated by cool moonlight. Arthur takes a deep breath and lets himself relax. Drowsily, he climbs into the van, collapsing across the front seat, too tired to clear a space in the back among the camping gear and other supplies.

Before finally drifting off to sleep he sets his alarm for five thirty so he can sneak back into the motel room before Lewis and Vivi wake up.

Purple fire runs over the cave walls, lighting his way downward, beckoning him deeper into the tunnel. Arthur hesitates fear heavy on his shoulders. There’s something dangerous moving among the flames, immune to the heat. His footsteps echo, loud, broadcasting his position.

“Lewis?” He calls. Nothing responds. The fire continues to burn, eerie in its silence.

In the dim flickering light Arthur stumbles. He reaches out a hand to steady himself, accidentally bushing against the flames. A burning sensation shoots along his left arm, and it goes completely numb.

He watches it slowly turn sickly green.

Arthur is jerked into consciousness by the insistent buzzing of his phone wedged into the seat next to his ear. His head is heavy like it’s been filled with cotton, and his back and shoulders ache from his odd position. Despite it not being particularly cold, he’s sweating all over, breathing harder than normal. With a groan, he heaves himself up, studying the dashboard, steering wheel and plush seats.

This isn’t The Cave. He’s fine.

Out the window, he can see the sun peeping between buildings. Sore, disorientated and drowsy, Arthur shuffles blearily out and down from the van, stumbling up to the motel room door, unlocking it, and slipping back inside.

As he turns to lock the door behind him, movement on his left catches his attention.

“Arthur?” The familiar deep voice shatters the quiet, piercing through the tried haze resting over his thoughts. A hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder.

Arthur jerks around, brain activity going from zero to ten in an instant. His heart skips. His breath catches.

Lewis is right there and…Fire erupts, consuming the motel room, disintegrating furniture, and flaking away the wallpaper. At the centre of this sudden inferno is Lewis, glaring. Frames are racing up his arm to Arthur’s shoulder, catching in his clothes, spreading across his torso. The ground falls away on either side of him into a steep drop. Sharp, glistening spikes beckon to him.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

The words are defining, shrieking out from the fire. Disembodied.

Arthur throws himself backward, ripping himself free, his need to run too great to ignore. He fully expects to plummet down off the cliff.

Instead, his back and head hit a solid surface, forcing painful vibrations through his skull.

Disoriented, he slaps a hand up and behind to feel wooden panels. He blinks at his fuzzy vision, staring down at the tasselled rug, running under him. Shakely, he feels it’s softness with his flesh and blood left hand, not quite comprehending its existence.

There’s no fire. No cliff. He is on a carpeted floor, leaning against a door. A frozen Lewis is standing a foot away, hand outstretched, frozen in place from where he’s tried to touch Arthur’s shoulder.

This is the motel room his brain unhelpfully provides. The motel room he’s sharing with Lewis and Vivi. Arthur tries to say something, he doesn’t know exactly what, maybe he wants to apologise, but he can’t find the breath needed. Air just isn’t making it into his lungs.

Note: In which stuff finally happens.

Part 17: here

#fanfiction #fanfic #mystery skulls animated #MSA #arthur kingsmen #Lewis pepper #ViVi #angst #nightmare #time travel

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dcarevu · 5 years

Text

Batman TAS: Mad as a Hatter

“Why don’t you go do something useful like… Oh, go jump in the river.”

Episode: 27 Robin: No Writer: Paul Dini Director: Frank Paur Animator: Akom Airdate: October 12, 1992 Grade: B

I was in high school when Tim Burton’s version of Alice in Wonderland showed up in theaters, and like almost everyone I knew, I could not have been more excited. I really loved the Disney version, and considering that the man involved with Beetlejuice, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Batman, and more would be giving us his take on it right as I was starting to move toward my emo-scene phase, it was a dream come true. Even now, on paper, this seems like the perfect recipe, doesn’t it? But I think most of us can agree that it just didn’t meet expectations. The first time I watched it, I wouldn’t admit to myself that I wasn’t a fan. It was dark, and strange, and Tim Burton + Alice in Wonderland. Everything I wanted! As a developing emo kid, I was supposed to like it! The reason I bring this up is because Batman the Animated Series being fused with Alice in Wonderland seems like another fantasy-combination that would have no way to turn out subpar. Mad as a Hatter is an episode that, for the most part, actually gets a lot of praise. Alas (or, for the sake of the pun, Alice), maybe the idea seemed a little bit too easy, making it easier to over-shoot, missing the mark. This is another episode featuring a crazy set-piece at the end, but it is also another episode that was handed to Akom. Christ, why. Of all the episodes. All the episodes. Why is it some of the ones with the highest reliance on visuals? This episode involved not just complicated, creative visuals, but incredibly weird ones as well that needed to be animated just right to not look like subjects from one’s fever dreams. You wanna know how that turned out? Well, I heard an, “Oh my god!” from Char as the walrus and the carpenter made their appearances. While that did make me laugh quite hard, and Akom definitely got the weirdness down, it should have looked like intentional weirdness. Beyond the animation, the story is actually decent. It is Paul Dini, so what can you really expect. But even here, I would not call it A-level material. Some strange dialogue/delivery choices, and other leaps of logic/strains on the suspension of disbelief take away from it and leave me feeling extremely neutral.

Okay, so after that paragraph above was written, I went and took the screenshots from my DVD. I was surprised. The DVD looks so much better than the Blu Ray here. This was the case with The Clock King too, and I fear it is starting to seem like a pattern. I think it all comes down to the Blu Ray release looking too clean, and way too bright at times. Because of course, the DVD is in lower definition. Shadows are lightened so that we can see all of the imperfections of Akom’s drawings. Smudges and dirt are removed, giving the people a plastic look at times. It’s not the way the show was meant to be watched (as I said, probably VHS would be my preferred way of viewing if that were feasible). This puts me in an interesting spot, because I paid near $100 for the set, and also, some episodes look absolutely phenomenal. But is it worth it when some look like absolute crap? The great-looking shows look godly. The mediocre-looking ones look horrible. I was ready to tear into how Mad as a Hatter looked and rip it a new one, but now I do not think that would be fair. No, the animation here isn’t perfect. But it’s passable. And I think that’s worth something given the frequency at which I complain about Akom. At this point, I have watched up to Robin’s Reckoning. From here, I honestly might start using the ol’ dvd’s again. It’s unfortunate, but if I go back to specific episodes that I love later on, then I’ll use the Blu Ray. Remember, I am watching these with Char who has never seen the DCAU before. I want the series to make the best possible impression, and even with the best plot ever, a bad-looking episode can make a disappointing episode. Merely getting the episodes at a higher definition, but leaving them dirty and dark would have been my preferred solution. Anyway, back to talking about the episode itself (and yes, this does slightly affect how I see the episode. At first I was giving it a C. But I think I’ll have to bump it up to B territory).

We start with episode with some cute-ass mice, only to then be introduced to a face that a mother would have a hard time loving. Jervis Tetch, aka The Mad Hatter, is a character-design, alright. I think I know what they were going for, though. He has this kooky look that makes him stand out from every other character. He certainly looks like he could play someone from Wonderland. But the problem I think comes from Akom (ironic given that last paragraph, huh?). This design could probably work, but he has such an odd model, so I think they had a tough time animating him. Or maybe he simply does not translate to movement very well in general, and there was a problem the moment his model sheet was created. Regardless, he can be pretty tough to look at sometimes. Other times, though, he does have that level of whacky which I would hope would be in an episode based on Alice in Wonderland. But we see that Jervis is working on some mind-control technology while also being smitten for a girl that works in his office named Alice. Unfortunately, Alice has a boyfriend, and like many sociopaths in real life, Jervis is not okay with this, taking matters into his own hands. First of all, her name being Alice is kinda stupid, and Char agrees. It takes parallels a little bit too far, and Char noted that it would have been more subtle if her name were something like Alycia. Alice is one of the only people that Jervis feels is nice to him, so if we follow the most sound of incel-logic, she owes him her heart, mind, and body. Not only is she nice to him, but, again, her name is Alice. And it would not surprise me if this were a main factor of why Jervis is into her. He has an Alice in Wonderland poster in his office, he takes her to a theme park of sorts that has a section which is themed after the book, he owns a Mad Hatter costume (or perhaps he obtained this from the park), he quotes the book regularly, etc. He is clearly obsessed. When we reach the point where he mentions that it is one of his favorite stories, it’s like, “Wow! No kidding!” He is not quite wired into reality, likely developing this obsession at an early age to escape from life’s burdens. But Wonderland has burdens of its own.

Jervis ends up using these mind-control cards that he created (another Alice in Wonderland-related thing) to make people basically do his bidding. He first uses them on two thugs attempting to rob him and Alice, forcing them to climb up on top of a bridge and jump into the river. Batman catches notice of this through a police broadcast, and to my surprise, the show mentions a possible suicide in progress. How often do you hear a family cartoon like this use the word “suicide”? I think this is the only time I have ever heard it, despite references occasionally popping up in shows like Spongebob. He then uses more cards on his coworkers, Alice’s fiancé, and Alice herself, creating an army of Alice in Wonderland-themed warriors to defend him from Batman when Batman finds out what’s going on and sets after him. He wants Alice all to himself, and is willing to do whatever possible to obtain her. The final battle takes place in the theme park, the big set-piece of the episode. It’s got some great looking background paintings that 100% capture the tone of the book. It is a shame that the animation done by Akom couldn’t hold up to Radomski’s work. We have moments such as Batman balancing on top of the walls of a playing card maze that I wish stressed me out a little bit more. But because of how stilted the movement is, Batman never really seems like he is having a tough time keeping balance, even though we clearly see him struggling. The fight scenes could also be much better, with more impact felt. The odd costumes that most everyone is wearing makes for some really distorted-looking characters, and it’s clear that not a lot of time was spent making them look quite right. At the same time, though, between the subject material, the gimmicks, the overall surreal nature, and the background art, it is still a lot of fun to watch, even if it is in a more campy way. It is not an episode to be taken extremely seriously. This can be a problem with Batman. The tone can fluctuate greatly from episode to episode. At the beginning, it did not matter as much. Right away we had varying quality and seriousness. I mean, we went from On Leather Wings to Christmas With the Joker. But now we are getting gothic masterpieces like Two-Face, so episodes like Mad as a Hatter feel jarring as hell. It is an episode I enjoyed more on second watch as I gathered screenshots. I loosened up and let myself have fun with it.

The Mad Hatter fails to be a sympathetic villain like I feel they might have been going for, but I do enjoy him being so delusional and sociopathic. When Alice mentions her boyfriend, he gets this scary scowl, and you know at that moment that this is no character you want to root for. When Alice’s boyfriend temporarily breaks up with her, rather than attempting to comfort her and being upset over her sorrow, he jumps for joy because he has a chance to finally swoop in (the epitome of an Internet “nice guy”). When she gets back together with her boyfriend, turned fiancé, he squeezes a bouquet of roses in frustration so hard that he bleeds. I think they were able to get away with this portion because maybe the blood could have passed off as liquid from the flowers? Which doesn’t really make a lot of sense, but for the sake of the blood being included, um, sure. It was definitely rose-goo, guys. Not blood at all… And he also blames Batman for why things ended up the way they did, even though Batman had virtually nothing to do with anything until the very end. He decided to mind-control everyone because he was being a spoiled little piss-baby who could not let the girl he supposedly loves be happy. Char did not care for the character, and jokingly mentioned that he was appropriating the Mad Hatter, doing things that he would never do. Like some batshit crazy super-fan who feels sooo connected with a character, but actually doesn’t understand them at all.

Not a perfect episode, but a grower.

See? Cute-ass mice!

Wow, I didn’t realize that we were watching Attack on Titan. (Joke inspired by Char).

The poster on the wall matches the title card/an actual illustration from the book. It’s actually a pretty dope poster.

A variety of shots showing Jervis’ face. See how inconsistent it is? It is a little similar to the Pokémon Drilbur, where it only works 2D. Adding an element of 3D illusion (such as movement) causes it to fall apart.

Oh, sure, go and rob them right after you see Batman drive by. That’s always smart.

“Please, Mr. Hat. Go easy on us.” The delivery here was wicked funny. It was so monotone, and sounded like he was faking.

I quite like this facial expression. His smile reminds me of the Cheshire Cat.

Batman + Taco Bell

I love the panic in Batman’s voice as he tries to stop them from jumping off of the bridge. It shows how concerned he is with keeping them safe.

They were able to animate this shimmer pretty damn well. Then again, how hard could it be?

A very subtle recreation of the illustration/title card.

I don’t think the background here quite comes together, the composition is off. Still neat to look at.

A close-up of the illustration.

Now this is an ugly facial expression. Gross! And it’s not like this was a quick frame. It was there long enough to notice.

This shot has a lovely glow to it. It looks quite nice.

One of the only times they were able to get away with blood. Um. Oops. I meant flower-goo! It’s flower-goo, guys! The blood drips right onto Billy’s face. As if a hit were put on him. Awesome detail.

“Oh, do be quiet!”

Bruce whispers “Congratulations.” in such a goobery way. I love it.

The shadow of the plants shifted in some wonky-looking ways. Also, when the Mad Hatter and Batman both arrive on the scene, she says, “This is getting too weird.” But she says it so nonchalantly. Not the best delivery.

Very sloppy-looking drawings of their faces. These costumes, though.

Cool impact here. He just decimates that wood. I’m not sure if Storybook Land has the safest costumes.

This is some enjoyable stuff right here. I had a lot of fun with this portion.

“Off with his head!” I should have counted how many times this line was said.

Perfect example if how cool the painted visuals are paired with some mediocre animation. Hell, I’m pretty sure Batman’s run was recycled for two of these stills.

Gee, I wonder which cards are going to move. Great Mad Hatter, pose, though. This is what I wish he looked like all the time!

The looming Jabberwock ends up falling on him, ending the adventure through Wonderland.

There’s no reversing the damage, Jervis. You’ll never talk with her again. Was it worth it? Also, his hair totally changed color at one point. Um... Maybe he dyed it?

Char’s grade: D Next time: Dreams in Darkness

Full episode list here!

#dcau #dc animated universe #mad as a hatter #batman #batman tas #batman the animated series #btas #mad hatter #alice #alice in wonderland

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flightlessangelwings · 5 years

Text

Lost Souls, Kindred Spirits Chapter 16

Bucky x Reader

Masterlist in bio

Chapter 16

“This is crazy! This is crazy! This is crazy!” you repeated the mantra to yourself from behind the wheel of your stolen car.

The plan you came up with was reckless at best. You knew you had to move fast or else risk losing Bucky completely, so you went with the first option that popped into your head. As soon as you saw the news broadcast, you darted down the street in search of an inconspicuous car. Your understanding of the language here wasn’t the best, but you could make out that they were going to move Bucky, and the large armored convoy made that clearer to you. Your plan was to steal a car and follow loosely behind. That way, you at least knew where they had him while you figured out your next move.

Your plan went off without a hitch so far. You dove down an empty side street near the club and hot wired a small black car. It didn’t take you long to find the convoy as it wasn’t hard to spot. You trailed further behind until it reached the highway, then you figured you were safer to follow a little more closely. You could make out several armored trucks, a handful of SUVs, and one extremely fortified vehicle. A wild guess told you that biggest one was where they had Bucky held. There was no way you would be able to get in there on your own.

Tears came to your eyes as you tried to push down the feeling of hopelessness. What could you do on your own against an entire army of specially trained agents and soldiers? If Bucky couldn’t even fight them off or outrun them, what chance did you have? Sure, you trained almost every day with the former Winter Solider for the past two years, but you still were just a candle compared to that roaring wildfire in front of you.

“No,” you told yourself. You shook your head in an attempt to push the doubt and negativity out of you. There is an answer here somewhere, you just needed some time to find it. Bucky risked his life and his freedom for you once. More than once, actually. Now it was your turn to do the same for him. As you drove in silence behind the threatening parade, you thought about how much he really meant to you. And you told yourself you would do anything for him; no price was too high.

The drive felt like forever. At least you had a good feeling that they weren’t suspicious of your little car behind them. There was something else you were grateful for: Bucky always insisted on keeping a packed backpack of necessities on each of you at all times. In your bag, you also kept a photo of you and Bucky.

After what felt like forever, it seemed like the convoy was finally reaching its destination. The cars and trucks started to disperse once it reached the city of Berlin, and the biggest armored truck went straight into a maximum-security base. Once you knew where it ended up, you drove your stolen car in the opposite direction and ditched it in a junkyard. Even with all the time to think and plan during the drive, you still came up with nothing. No idea on what to do next.

The first idea that came to your head was to steal a uniform and ID and impersonate an employee. But you saw how quickly that plan with unravel and how easily you could get caught. You studied the building that you saw them take Bucky into and knew that there was no way you could break in by yourself. A hand to hand fight would not end well for you either. A big sigh escaped your lips as you stared at the building from your hiding spot in a small shadowy alleyway. The only thing you managed to figure out was to steal a new car: a little blue classic bug which you currently were leaning against as you racked your brain.

“If only I could ninja my way to the roof,” you thought out loud as you noticed the helicopter on the roof. Your eyes followed the lines of the building down and landed on the little man-made pond in front of you. You could see a lot of people passing by each window, which told you the area was well protected. No surprise there, but it still frustrated you.

You chewed on the inside of your mouth, completely lost in thought, when a loud noise caught your attention. An alarm, which sounded like it came from the building you were currently trying to stare a hole into. You jumped to full attention as you strained to see what was going on. You couldn’t see a thing, only heard several loud noises. Gunfire, smashing, alarms, shouting, screams, yells.

“What the hell?” you stood up on your tiptoes as you tried to see what was going on without moving too far from your hiding spot. Your heart pounded in your chest as a million thoughts ran though your mind. “What’s going on?”

Then, the helicopter that sat on the roof started moving. You snapped your attention there and watched intensely. You rang your hands as nerves took you over, and you took a few steps to try to get a better view. The copter started to lift off when you saw a figure jump to it and grab ahold of the landing skid. With the distance, it was hard to see exactly, but you could tell that the figure was trying to hold the aircraft there and keep it from leaving. The figure held the helicopter there for several long moments before it went crashing back into the building.

You couldn’t help but gasp and jump in surprise at watching the scene unfold in front of you. Fire erupted from where it crashed. You covered your mouth with your hands and your shoulders tensed up when you saw two people fall from the roof. You only had a split second to see, but you knew that one of those figured was Bucky. The two splashed into the pond and you immediately ran over to them before you had time to think. You stood on the bank and nervously scanned the water. It didn’t take long for the two to emerge, and that’s when you finally could tell who the other person was: Steve Rogers, Captain America.

Seeing who it was with Bucky was both a relief and a stressor. You knew you could trust Steve, but you wondered why they appeared to be fighting and why Bucky tried to fly away. Answered to your questions could come later, though, because time was not on your side. Right now, the important thing was to get away to somewhere safe. Steve and Bucky’s heads bobbled in the water as the captain carried his unconscious friend’s weight on him.

You whistled to the blond to catch his attention. Steve looked up to see you, and he immediately recognized you as the girl from the pictures in Bucky’s apartment. Just as you made the instant decision to trust him, he decided to trust you and swam over towards you with Bucky on his shoulder. You helped him pull the unconscious Bucky out of the water and ushered him over to your little car.

“You’re the girl from the photo,” he stated, “I’m Steve,” he introduced himself in a rush as you hurried out of sight. The pair of you sat Bucky in the backseat.

“I know,” you answered him in as pleasant a voice as you could and gave him your name with a weak smile.

Steve smiled back at you for a moment before a voice calling his name made him turn around. A man you’ve never seen before came running towards you which caused you to tense up. Captain America must have noticed out of the corner of his eye because he turned to you, “It’s ok, he’s with me.”

He caught up to where Steve and you stood and updated him on the situation that happened on the inside of the building. “They’re lookin’ for him already, Steve,” you could hear the urgency in his voice as his eyes darted between the two of you, “We gotta get outta here.”

You and Steve made eye contact and nodded to each other before the three of you piled into your car and drove away as fast as you could.

***

“What the hell are you doing?!” you tried to stop Steve and Sam from restraining the unconscious brunette in the large vice, but he was too strong for you.

The captain sighed heavily, “Something happened,” he started.

The look on his face made you stop your protests. You never met the man before, but you’d seen his face in photos and videos. The face in front of you was nothing like what was presented in the news and media. It was if he was at a loss, hurt and confusion splayed plainly across his features. You dropped your shoulders as you let go of his arm and let him finish clamping the large machine down on Bucky’s metal arm.

“Steve…?” your voice was weak.

“We should talk,” he was blunt as he stood up to face you.

You only nodded in response as Steve glanced over to Sam, who stood watch quietly. “I’ll watch him,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“Thanks,” the blonde’s voice was barely audible as he led you out of the room. You followed him without a word into the dark, open space of the abandoned warehouse.

“So,” you let out a deep breath, “What happened?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he sounded so defeated, “They were interrogating him, then the power went out. And it was like,” he paused, “He snapped. Like he wasn’t himself.”

You clenched your jaw as you listened to Steve recount what happened inside the building while you were sitting on the outside figuring out your plan. You felt so helpless; there was nothing you could think of to help him.

“You know,” his voice broke you out of your thoughts, “This would have been easier if he just came to me for help,” Steve’s words seemed more like he was thinking out loud than pointing towards you.

You ran your hands through your hair as you sighed again, “I know. I tried, but he didn’t want to get you involved and I didn’t wanna push it.”

“So, you’ve been with him awhile then?” his tone was light, but you could tell he was very curious about your story.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. You told him the short version on your story and how you ended up here. Steve listened attentively without interrupting. It was an odd feeling for you to tell the story of two people who lived in secret for so long. But you could tell that he cared about Bucky too and your gut told you to trust him.

“Thank you,” was all he said once you were finished. His voice was soft and kind.

You looked up in surprise and meet his gaze, “For what?”

“For staying with him,” Steve answered, “For keeping an eye on him. For making sure he wasn’t alone,” a faint but genuine smile made his face light up.

“Of course,” you returned his smile as you cradled your shoulder, “He saved my life. More than once actually,” you added with half a laugh.

“Sounds like you saved his too,” he noticed the way you subconsciously grabbed your shoulder, but chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he stayed supportive and encouraging. You only just met the man, but you could tell he was a good friend to those he was close with.

His words felt like they took a weight off your shoulders, “I…”

“Hey Cap!” Sam’s voice called out from the other room, interrupting your thought.

Both of your faces dropped as you followed him back into the room where Sam watched over Bucky. The brunette stirred as he started to regain consciousness. He looked between the three faces staring at him before he spoke, “Steve,” you could barely hear him as he spoke your name after his.

“Bucky!” you tried to run to him, but Steve held you back.

“Wait,” his voice was stern as he held you still. He turned his gaze to Bucky, “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

You decided not to struggle as the three of you waited for him to answer.

Bucky looked down to the ground before he spoke, “Your mom’s name is Sarah,” he lifted his head and looked at the two of you, “You used to put newspapers in your shoes,” you could see a faint smile though the curtain of hair. Steve loosened his grip on you, but didn’t let go fully yet. Bucky turned his eyes to you before he added, “The song that you sang when we first left New York. If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me…”

“Time after time,” you whispered as you finished the spoken lyrics along with him. Tears came to your eyes, but this time they were happy tears. Your Bucky was back. He was here and he was ok. You didn’t notice, but Steve also had a glowing smile on his face as he had the same thought.

Sam cleared his through to get attention, “And just like that we’re supposed to be ok?”

Steve nodded to him as he finally let you go. Sam shrugged as he went along with the captain’s direction and the two of them freed Bucky from his confines. You didn’t talk much to Sam, but you could tell he trusted Steve without a doubt.

The two men backed up and allowed you to finally reach Bucky. You did not hesitate to pull him into your arms and hugged him tighter than you ever did before. He returned your embrace and held you tightly for a few moments before he pulled back. He cradled your face with his flesh hand as he kept his metal hand on your waist. Time seemed to stop as he scanned over every detail of your face.

“We need to talk,” Steve’s voice broke though the silence. Bucky looked up to his best friend and nodded. He sat back in his chair and you took a seat right next to him; you didn’t want to leave his side even for a moment.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, his voice hoarse.

“Enough.”

He sighed heavily, “I knew this would happen,” Bucky dropped his head.

You stayed silent, but moved your hand to rest on Bucky’s knee.

He continued, “Everything Hydra put in me is still there,” frustration and defeat lined his voice, “And all he had to do was say the goddammed words.”

“What did he want?” the blonde asked.

Bucky took a few moments to think, to try and remember any detail before he blacked out. He remembered the face of the man who said he was the psychiatrist, “I don’t know who he was,” another pause as he darted his eyes around, “He asked about Siberia. About where I was kept.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat at his words. You never asked Bucky about what happened to him in the past. It was never a topic that you wanted to bring up because you knew how painful the memories were. This was the first time since when he told you the truth about who he was that Bucky spoke about his days as the winter soldier.

“Why?” Steve’s voice was firm. Time was of the essence and he needed information fast.

“Because I’m not the only winter soldier,” the brunette’s voice was flat as his eyes met Steve’s. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Steve and Sam were better about hiding their shock; their faces barely flinched. Bucky told his story about the Hydra death squad that was given the super soldier serum and the facility in the secluded part of the world. The other two men interjected with a question or two, but mostly stayed silent. No doubt they were already trying to plan their next move, you thought.

After Bucky told everything he knew, Sam crossed the room to speak with the captain, “You know, this would have been a lot easier a week ago.”

Steve glanced from him to Bucky to you, then back to his friend, “Tony…” he started.

“We can’t,” Sam cut him off before he could finish the thought, “Even if he believed us, I don’t think the accords would let him help.”

“So, we’re on our own then,” Steve said with a heavy voice.

“Maybe not,” he had a little pep in his voice, “I know a guy.”

The captain nodded, “Ok, let’s make some calls,” he then turned his attention to you and Bucky, “We gotta move soon. I’ll give you two a minute.” He turned to leave the room, but Sam stopped him.

“I overheard something,” he spoke to everyone in the room and all eyes were on him, “I heard one of the goones talking. He said they found evidence of a woman living in the apartment too,” he turned to you and all the color instantly drained from your face.

Steve exhaled deeply; he knew what that meant right away. Without another word, he and Sam turned to leave the room. Bucky clenched his jaw as he watched them walk away so the two of you could talk. Once you and Bucky were alone, he turned to you. His face was painted with sorrow and pain as he took your hand in his.

“Bucky,” you whispered his name, “This isn’t good, is it?”

He swallowed hard, “No, doll,” he rubbed his thumb over your hand.

“So, what do we do now?” was all you could ask, even though you had a million questions running through your mind.

“It’s too dangerous,” he ended his blunt statement with your name.

“What do you mean? Let me help you, Bucky,” you insisted as you tugged his arm. Deep down, you knew what he was saying, but you didn’t want to face that reality.

Bucky reached over to cradle your shoulder, “I can’t have you getting hurt again,” his voice was dangerously close to breaking, “Believe me, this is the last thing I want,” he swallowed hard and fought back a tear “Just… lay low for a while until we figure all this out.” He was able to hold himself together to get his words out; he was determined to be strong for you.

You took in a shaky breath, “I guess neither option is fun,” you spoke after a moment of silence, “But I do trust you, Bucky.” That was never a doubt in your mind, and Bucky always kept your best interest in mind the entire time you were together. If this was what he thought was best, you decided to listen to him. You met his eyes, and you could see how much this ate him up inside. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” he had no hesitation whatsoever.

“Just come back to me,” you moved your hands to cradle his face.

He smiled so sweetly at you, “Of course,” he leaned in to kiss you. It was a short kiss, but it was deep and passionate. It spoke all the unspoken words and feeling between the both of you. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him. He only broke the kiss apart to hold you even tighter and he nestled his face in your neck. “I love you,” his voice was soft as he whispered your name in your ear.

“I love you too Bucky,” your voice was even softer as you squeezed him as tightly as you could.

~ Notes: I aimed to get this posted last week, but life happened. But, this chapter was extra long to make up for it!

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