#it makes me ANXIOUS for a community to exist without me being able to add guidelines

[zolo-san]

*screeching*

[badsassitude]

The Boyfriend: In which Shun is not not-jealous. (Deep Dive Part 3/3)

Enter Ikuo, who through no fault of his own became the catalyst for lots of jealousy and big insecurity in Shun.  

Ikuo brings change to the existing dynamic of the Green Room. He’s young and confident, with high energy and a vibe that jived with Dai. To add insult to Shun's insecurity, he also seems interested in hanging out with Dai.  

Let me add here that Dai isn’t doing anything wrong. Read that again. I could, definitely go off on a tangent (and may at some point) at all the negativity towards Dai when the man is truly not doing anything wrong.  We are not responsible for how others respond to us.  Dai was interested in Shun from the beginning.  He has made active efforts to pursue Shun and make his interest clear, he has communicated openly and directly (ie, he expressed to Shun that he would like Shun to be more open about his feelings in ep 3, he spoke to Shun directly after the overnight date didn’t happen in ep 5), and when Shun set a boundary he handled it maturely and respectfully and didn’t turn into a great big passive aggressive dick.  Go Dai. During the FRIENDS ONLY PERIOD in which Ikuo joined the show, Dai engaged and responded to Ikuo in the same friendly and welcoming way he has with EVERYONE (which by the way is probably what ultimately netted him THREE letters in episode 1).  I don’t see that Dai could have reasonably been expected to behave any differently toward Ikuo than what we saw in the show.  I also noticed that he attempted to check in with Shun in a directly indirect way during the group beach day (ep 6).  Remember, Shun said 1) I don’t like to be pursued aggressively until I am dating that person, and 2) he just wanted to be friends.  Dai can’t be more direct in asking Shun about his feelings while also being respectful of the boundaries Shun set.  Dai can wonder if Shun is having feelings, and very clearly does.  He is looking at Shun and checking for a reaction, and giving him the opportunity to say something.  Shun doesn’t.

This is an area where I see a lot of negativity about Shun’s behavior, and the jealousy we see as Dai and Ikuo interact.  Let’s consider the context – Dai has dialed back is pursuit of Shun, resulting in Shun feeling more comfortable and instead of having to pull back to protect himself, Shun is actually able to comfortably reach out and engage Dai more.  At this time Shun’s feelings are growing, he’s probably starting to feel a little more comfortable and confident – and I bet money that if a date selection had happened before Ikuo came, that Shun may very well have put down Dai’s name.  I think the connection and intimacy between them likely would have continued to grow.  Even while watching Dai and Ikuo, Shun is demonstrating a level of faith in Dai’s sincerity and feelings for him. (ie, his declaration that Dai will pick him.)  But then we see those negative thoughts get louder and his low-self esteem perk up (damn jerkface brains always being negative) – he starts thinking maybe Ikuo is better for Dai. Meanwhile, he starts pulling back behind those walls, shutting down and disengaging.  Deep down he’s spiraling and he’s hoping for reassurance and comfort from Dai. He needs Dai to initiate it, but ironically, he also may not be able to tolerate it even if Dai does. Anxious attachment is a beast y'all. Meanwhile poor Dai is in an impossible position, because he doesn’t KNOW what is going on with Shun.  He can clearly see Shun is upset, but Shun isn’t talking, and Dai can’t push too much without risking violating the boundary Shun set.

For me, what we are seeing is a misalignment of needs that are not clearly understood and are not able to be clearly expressed.  Can it be exhausting? Yes, absolutely. It can be painful and exhausting both to have an anxious attachment, and to love someone with anxious attachment. Is it fair to Dai? No, of course it’s not. And, it’s not done intentionally or maliciously.  Shun is like a porcupine – he wants to be loved, but his quills poke anyone who gets too close.  Because nobody can/will get close to him, he continues to believe he is not worth it, that he will never be loved the way he wants.  So he curls in on himself, his quills sticking out in all directions, wanting to be held but also keeping the people who want to get close away.  

Public service announcement: Loving someone doesn’t obligate us to accept their behaviors. Understanding the wounds that may have guided and shaped someone’s behaviors, doesn’t give them a pass. Sometimes no matter how much we love someone, no matter how much we empathize and understand that they are doing the best they can or are loving us the best way they know how, we can’t both meet them where they are and be healthy in the relationship at the same time. Sometimes in order to love ourselves, we have to take a step back.  But other times, with empathy and understanding, and a genuine desire to love and a willingness to do the work from both sides – bridges can be built.  Change is possible, growth happens, and we can develop secure attachment bonds – even if it takes extra work and effort.  

Shun is likely doing the best he can with what he knows how to do. His life history has taught him that vulnerability is dangerous, that he has to be the one to protect himself. I truly wish for him that instead of judging him for the dance he is doing between staying safe and being vulnerable, I wish we could all have more compassion and empathy.  Instead of being so quick to judge, make an effort to understand.  When vulnerability is met with empathy and compassion, magic happens, and we have the opportunity to foster growth, change, and connection.

I’m really excited to see what the next episodes bring. The preview flashes we have been given since episode 1 show us that Dai and Shun don’t stay in the friendzone we ended episode 6 with.  I fully acknowledge that I am out here on Delulu Island with my predictions - both for the next couple of episodes and the end game. I also acknowledge I might be completely full of crap and all of this is in my head. But hey, thanks for coming to my TED talk. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[moeshachare]

FAS3000 - Final Evaluation

For this project ‘The Story of You’, I came up with my narrative: Chaos vs. Nature. I define this topic as living in my hometown Birmingham where the city environment is busy, ongoing and is a constant reminder of negative memories and traumatic experiences I have endured as a child. This is the chaos that takes over my life. As for nature, I am thinking about my favourite scenery: sunrises and sunsets. For as long as I can remember I have always had a spiritual connection to the sky, it makes me believe there is a better life waiting on the other side and makes me feel closer to God. This is an internal escapism I use when I am feeling anxious or stressed. The ultimate message of my narrative is that I am escaping my stress and upset and settling into my place of peace, where I feel positive, empowered and more than enough. Chaos vs. Nature is an expression of how my environment affects my mental health. This is a part of me I have never discussed before so this is something personal where I can go in depth and get more in touch with myself.

My research started off by taking pictures of varied details within my local environment and daily commutes.

As the ideas for my narrative were constantly changing, it was difficult to find my focus. However, my research journey became easier to develop as I finalised this sunrise/ sunset topic of my narrative. I began to focus on taking photos of the sky at different times of the day and then the contrasting scenery of the city then stood out to me. Being in the city is a main part of what I see every day so combining these ideas made a lot of sense. This has helped my design journey as I continued to take photos throughout the project, in which I developed the colours for my palette and I identified and created similar textures inspired by the sky. My intentions were to learn existing and new skills and processes that would help me to visually communicate my narrative.

My primary research images have played a major part in my project so I have used them in all my samples. I have interpreted the colour, texture and dimensions from my photos by using materials such as light and translucent fabrics for my base and thin and thick yarns and threads to add texture in my samples. This links to my project as the materials and colours I am using are a reflection of my emotions, for example: I have practiced these techniques in a chaotic manner, which represents how my thinking is all over the place and I am just doing whatever I want without a plan. The darker colours reflects when my mind is a negative state and the lighter colours are making me calm and refreshed.

My successes in this project were my heat transfer disperse dye prints, digital sublimation prints and hand free machine embroidery because these were techniques that I have either learned in college or have tried once before. Because of this, I was able to think critically about my narrative and carefully select what materials I needed to produce strong samples at a quick pace and that would link back to my narrative. Another success of mine was my ability to further develop my samples by combining techniques I have learned over this module, for example: my first disperse dye print with reverse applique and hand free machine embroidery were a perfect combination of print and embroidery techniques used in one sample. Because I like to put things together spontaneously and seeing if it works, this shows my progress with experimentation through my sketchbook.

My weaknesses throughout this project were page layout for sketchbook and using secondary research. For my sketchbook page layout, I have started with strong pages that visually communicates my narrative and uses enough space. As I continued with my sketchbook, I began to struggle with laying out some samples as some were quite big or very busy and I wanted to make sure each page was still communicating my narrative. Regarding my secondary research, I have struggled to find artists who I can compare my work to. I have spent more focus on my primary research and developing my ideas that I couldn’t find a direct reference. Instead, I have looked at photographers such as Ross Jukes and Matt Peers because their photography work captured the essence of what am I portraying in my sketchbook. This has inspired my colour palette of sunrise and sunset and how to take photos of the sky and city aligning with each other which would strongly connect to my narrative.

If I could make any potential improvements with this project, I would work on refining samples, time management and having more self-belief and self-confidence. I tend to procrastinate and overthink a lot, which has affected me in not producing some samples to the best of my ability. To improve this, I would have reviewed all of my techniques to see how my weaker samples could have been developed, for example, using parts of an unsuccessful print in a collage or weaving sample.

Regarding my time management, I would organise my time more effectively in recording my progress for my samples as I have struggled to write and repeat what I am saying. I have sometimes struggled to produce as many samples as possible I wanted in the workshops, so planning my spare time has been important to make sure I am completing everything for my sketchbook.

Throughout this project, most of my experiments have been successful and have worked in my favour because when I looked at my sketchbook, I can visualize what my samples are communicating. However, there were a few samples that could have been refined by finishing the sample more neatly and adding or enhancing to a simpler sample such as adding texture on top of my weave sample to add more depth and meaning.

For my planning and production, I have used my timetable for this module to see where I would need to spend time in making more samples, e.g. I spent one week focusing on my weaving samples because it was very time consuming, and I felt that I didn’t have enough samples to showcase my skills. My initial idea was to follow the scheduled workshops and seeing what was available to do that moment, so that I am covering all the tasks given in this project and my work is coming out at a high quality.

When it comes to problem solving, I find that taking a step back for a few moments and reviewing what I have done was a very helpful tactic. It was very often that I would look at my work and get stuck on what to do next so having that time to refresh my ideas helped me to overcome this problem. Also, asking for feedback from my peers was very helpful because their ideas brought a new perspective that I didn’t know of and this helped me to continue with my own ideas but with a further outlook.

Overall, I am proud of my progress made on this project. I was able to revisit myself as a creative and learn new skills after having a long hiatus for my creative practice. I have always made sure I have kept to my ideas and developed them to communicate my message visually. I am very happy with my project came out and it has made me think about my transition to my degree in Textile Design and what I want to specialise in, which is print and/or embroidery. There are some improvements I would have made, but it is important that I could reflect on my strengths and weaknesses and use them to my advantage.

Lastly, above is my final outcome: an A2 presentation board with my strongest samples. I am very happy with how it came out because I have struggled slightly with the layout. Most of my samples were very busy and colourful so it was essential to have enough space for each sample to breathe and to make sure I had a lighter sample to create a balance. Looking at my presentation board I like how on the left side, my samples are laid out flat on the surface and on the right side, my samples are more textured and have a 3D effect. My only criticism for this board is use of colour; I feel that I have made my print samples repetitive, and the colours came out a lot brighter than I expected. If I did this again, I would use inks that would produce lighter colours. I believe that my presentation board would be able to visually communicate my story.

[funkymbtifiction]

What is the best way, as an ESFJ 6, to get along with a 9? I really like 9s a lot, but communication with them can be hard.

I have been close friends with several 9s (by coincidence, all are feelers with Fi) and there have been things in our relationship that have bugged them. For instance, some of them view me as needy or not having good enough boundaries. But they don’t mention it, or not directly. In the meantime, without me knowing, things will be building inside of them. Even when I try to talk things out with them, they won’t necessarily give me the complete picture of what they feel. Then something will happen (something that triggers them) and suddenly, all of their frustration will come out, and they’ll just cut me off entirely. All good people, but it’s very hard to work out stuff.

You cannot change other people, only yourself. Which means if this is a pattern with the 9s in your life, there’s something you are doing to “trigger” it. So now comes some hard questions. How healthy are you, as a 6? Are you anxious and reactive? Do you read negativity and accusations into situations where none exists? Are you defensive and fearful? Are you always thinking in terms of the worst possible scenario and throwing cold water on things? Are you anxiously attached in the sense that you can’t leave people “alone” (bombarding them with text messages if you don’t hear back immediately?). As a 6 myself, I know what we can be like when we’re lacking in self-confidence within our friendships.

What does self-confidence within a relationship look like for a 6?

Being able to wait for a response, even if it’s slow, without testing them, e-mailing them, texting them, and “being needy.” Why? Because we tell ourselves “nothing is wrong if they don’t answer me. They are a 9 who is overwhelmed by life and has to ‘get away’ in order to be truly themselves.’ They are a 9 who thinks about me, but doesn’t reach out. Their silence means nothing bad.” DO NOT pester them, reread your texts to look for what you said that maybe upset them, and anticipate that they are angry with you and try to diffuse it. Allow yourself to remember that as friends, you don’t need constant access to them, and as 9s, they need space and separation due to feeling overwhelmed.

9s are very sensitive and easily absorb whatever is happening around them; they hate being made to “feel” things -- things that upset them, anger them, etc. It’s hard for them to be up-front and they process things slowly. So, if you have a lot of conflict with 9s, it may be because as a 6, you are “too reactive.”

What does dialing back reactivity look like for a 6?

Catching yourself escalating and reminding yourself that this is not a huge deal, that this person is not questioning your decision or judgment, that raising your voice won’t fix the problem, that this is not the end of the world, etc. Learning to control reactivity means recognizing it as it’s happening and taking control over it, instead of allowing it to control you. As a reactive type, you WANT your friends to agree with you that THIS IS A PROBLEM, or THIS IS UPSETTING, but 9s are unruffled, calm, unaffected. From their perspective, any attempt to get them to escalate is exhausting and irritating. They won’t escalate with you; they will only escalate if they have a problem or they have reactive fixes.

Lastly, as 6s, we tend to project “people are mad at me” onto people even if it’s not the case, and then we treat them as if they are mad at us, and that can make them actually mad at us. Don’t assume your 9 is mad unless it’s obvious (with passive-aggression or directly being told off). I have noticed, with myself, if I am talking to someone and get anxious that I may have said the wrong thing, I hurry to add to it, change the subject, or deflect rather than let it land. It’s a “look over here and not at that” approach, but... I need to stop doing it. Let the comment land, do not deflect away from it, and then see if they are upset or not. Most of the time, they aren’t. But we think “wow, too much” and try to take away their right to be annoyed if we were rude without unending to be rude. Be calmer, take things slower. As a head type and an extrovert, you also think/talk way faster than your 9 introverted friends. Don’t overwhelm them as much, let things “sit.” Give them time to react instead of demanding an instant response.

Okay, enough about you and now about them. 9s have problems being up front about their feelings and that makes them passive-aggressive to the hilt. They think directly confronting you is going to escalate into a fight, so they will deny anything is wrong and then let you have it later, once the rage builds up. This is incredibly frustrating for people who want to get it all out on the table and deal with it on the spot (EFJs). But there’s no real way to cope with it, other than to know that’s how their anger works and batten down the proverbial hatches. Some 9s are more mature than others, as well. Cutting you off for no reason, and without an explanation or allowing you to explain yourself as long-term friends, isn’t an adult way to handle a relationship problem. But all the 9 is thinking about is “how can I reintroduce peace to my life? By getting rid of this person who is disrupting my peace!” In truth, the problem is often because they refuse to admit to their role in an argument or problem and thus, contribute to the disruption of their peace by being avoidant, neglectful, absent, or checking out emotionally. It takes two to have a conflict.

I’m extremely direct and prefer the same in others so that I know where we stand. If we ever get back to our friendship, they might put up strong walls to protect themselves or attribute our relationship problems to my behavior without seeing where their passivity or lack of communication might have contributed to the problem. (Though to be clear, I have definitely contributed to the problem too.)

9s have a hard time, because admitting to them contributing to a problem makes them feel bad about themselves, upset, etc., and their goal in life is to feel good about themselves and unaffected by the world. Their inertia is not laziness so much as a spiritual resistance to spiritual growth -- admitting that they contribute to the discomfort that arises in their life, and that they cause problems for not only themselves but other people. As I said, that’s a truth they must find, and something they need to want to change moving forward. You can’t fix it.

In particular, what’s the best way to communicate with an ISFP 9 who is experiencing anger? I get really shocked at how someone so placid and nonjudgmental can suddenly be saying the most cutting things to me. And I get that sense that because this is authentic to them and how they feel, they don’t really see how their words are hurtful.

Leave them alone. I know that’s hard for an EFJ, because you want to clear the air and talk it through and reach a consensus, but IFPs can’t be rushed in terms of processing their feelings, and when stuff happens, they go into low Te blunt mode. They don’t see their words as hurtful when they are upset, because their feelings are the only thing on their mind. Give them space, and try to remember that it’s probably not personal so much as an expression of their inner pain. And later, if you really felt hurt by their words, gently address it with them. Find a time when the anger has subsided and say, ��You said this and it hurt my feelings. I know you were upset that day. Did you really mean it?” Give them a chance to apologize, but do it in as non-confrontational a way as you can.

One more q: How as a 6 (and J) do I become more comfortable with ISFPs who frequently change course suddenly? I told my ISFP friend that being with him is like being on a roller coaster, and I tried to explain to him how I get really nervous at the lack of stability and predictability. At the same time, I want to learn how to handle this person’s sudden changes in mood and in life direction (an extreme example, but for instance: religious one day, an atheist the next day) that have me completely taken aback at times.

Go half and half. Meaning, you agree to meet in the middle. Sometimes you plan what you’re going to do together, and sometimes you agree to just show up and go somewhere with him. Over time, you will find it’s fun to be spontaneous, and he will learn to accommodate your need to plan a little bit ahead. As for their sudden shifts -- just recognize “oh, this is normal for him” and to be honest, don’t take anything too seriously in the knowledge that tomorrow it might change. I know that’s not stable and that you want stability, but some people are just going to be impulsive, spontaneous, and changeable -- so we have to learn to go along with it as 6s and just smile and nod, lol.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Would you happen to have any fic recs that involve John meeting the Holmes family? I always think that's such an interesting dynamic to see! Also, I think this goes without saying but I love your blog and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! Thanks!

Hey Nonny!

Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

Oooo! Yes, I love that dynamic too!! ANNNNND!!! You’re giving me the chance to make a part 2 for a REALLY OLD LIST!!! So YAY!!! I found a bunch on a text doc I haven’t posted yet, so HERE WE GO! Hope you enjoy, and as always, everyone please add your own!

PARENTS AND FAMILIES Pt. 2

See also: 

Parents & Family

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

Do You Love Me? by whitchry9 (K, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Epic Bromance) – John asks Sherlock perhaps the most important question.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w., 10 Ch. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a "normal" family. It's easy enough to pretend when all you're doing is dropping the act.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all. (TO READ)

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part 8 - Recovery)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery

This one is over 4600 words to the point I considered cutting it in half. But lots happens so I’ve posted it whole. Now I just need to play catch up because I had a crappy couple of weeks and now I’m only about 500 words ahead of this. I have a few days off coming up, so wish me luck :D

As always, many thanks to the amazing @janetm74​ @scribbles97​ @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and science officer @onereyofstarlight​ You guys have helped me make this what it is. I so hope you are enjoying it.

For the first time in this story, I’ve slightly gone off plan and have had to add in a chapter because of it. Here’s hoping I can keep this going. We are now at 35,000 words which is approximately halfway.

Warnings: some whump.

Thank you for all your support with this fic. I doubt I could do it without all the cheerleading and support. You guys are just amazing ::hugs you so much::

Enjoy!

-o-o-o-

Jeff Tracy was a man of action and drive. Eight years in the depths of space had eroded the edges of his impatience, but hadn’t eliminated it.

So, sitting in Callisto Base watching his family work and not having anything much to do wasn’t in the best interests of his mental health.

But what could he do?

He had set up a kind of mobile control despite not being in control of anything. John had linked him into everything and he and Lee had pretty much taken over one of the command centres of the Base.

Grae hovered the entire time.

Jeff watched the well-oiled machine that was International Rescue with no small amount of pride. He watched them track down the lifesigns, survey the site, drill extra access, deploy Thunderbird Four and-

“Gordon!”

“Guys, get out of there! Now!”

The holographic image of the lake swelled and swept his sons away.

Jeff was on his feet without thinking.

Three of the five life signs on the strategy map darted erratically, one coming to an abrupt stop against the cavern wall, while the two others travelled some distance up the main tunnel before stopping suddenly.

“Thunderbird Five!”

“Please hold.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “John!”

Data was suddenly thrown at his terminal. His sons’ vitals sprung up and he was relieved to find them all strong. A sitrep appeared a moment later tracking where the wave had come from, probabilities of a recurrence, a site safety scan and a feed from the Dragonfly Pod.

Its lights were still on, one shining at an angle across the tunnel it had landed in, the other reflected back a glare of white and a blue as beautiful as an Earth sky in the early evening.

The first one explained why.

One of the Dragonfly’s legs was sticking up out of a solidified white mass.

Of ice.

The math added up in his head very abruptly and he was suddenly moving.

It was a sign that Lee and he still had that unspoken communication as the engineer didn’t even ask and just moved with him, following his mad run to the hangar without a word.

Alan and Gordon had left the second Dragonfly pod at the Base and Jeff was ever so grateful.

“What’s…where are you going?” Grae’s eyes were wide as they all skidded to the side of the pod.

“Three of my sons are buried in ice. Where do you think I’m going?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, climbing up into the cockpit with a leap of agility he hadn’t felt for years. With a nod from Lee, he snapped the hatch shut and grabbed controls he hadn’t used outside of a simulator in over a decade.

It was like returning home.

The Dragonfly took off for the airlock far above as the doors began their opening sequence without request.

-o-o-o-

John reacted the way he always reacted.

Without thought. There was no time for thought.

Hands moving across his console dragged as much information as he could from the static-fouled scans.

He blinked as the interference cleared somewhat.

A worried plea from his father John had no time for. A flick of his wrist and he mirrored his sources to his father’s terminal.

All three of his brothers had come to a halt. Gordon was still in the cavern, Four slammed up against a wall. Scott and Virgil were in the tunnel. Vital signs were still good, but there was no response from any of them.

No matter how much he yelled into comms.

One of the beacons had been swept away, causing the interference to intensify in that area, but the readings he had added up to a scenario that echoed past hell.

His father was already moving.

“John?” Alan’s voice was professional but sported an edge of terror.

“I’m coming down, Thunderbird Three.” He grabbed his helmet. “Dad is on his way out there. Do we have enough parts for a third Dragonfly?”

His brother’s voice solidified with the plan of action. “Yeah, Virg overcompensated as always. He packed stuff in as if he was planning to stay out here for a couple of years.”

John didn’t answer that. “Assemble another pod. I’ll see you down there asap.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos, align the Excel with the danger zone. Initiate elevator deployment.” He flung himself through his ‘bird. “I need as much information as you can give me. Relay on descent.”

“Yes, John. It appears that the water volume of the lake increased dramatically before the incident, but has now returned to its previous status.”

John slipped through the airlock to the elevator. He hit his comms. “Michael, there has been an incident. I am going down to the surface. You have the Excel.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I will monitor.”

“Liaise with Eos.” He killed the connection as he entered the cockpit, his seat rotating towards him in welcome. “Eos, be nice.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Too bad. We need him.”

She grumbled in a way reminiscent of Virgil before coffee.

Maybe she had been taking notes.

He ignored it. “Send all information to my terminal here.” The elevator shuddered as it disengaged from Five and began its descent. The cockpit lit up with holograms.

He eyed the replay of the static-riddled scan as the lake swelled and overcame his brothers.

Four had been swept out of the water and washed ashore violently. Scott and Virgil, standing on that shore, hadn’t stood a chance.

One gloved hand reached up to poke the playback, pause and rewind. There had been a local seismic disturbance just before, epicentre to the north-east by a few hundred metres. Minor on an Earth scale, but since Callisto supposedly hadn’t had any major crustal movements in eons, it was unusual in the extreme.

“Eos, pull the Base seismic records. Have they detected anything like this before?”

The elevator’s thrusters fired as it hit the faint atmospheric boundary.

“Their system has recorded several incidents, but nothing of this magnitude.” Eos’ voice shifted to one of concern. “Incidents have been increasing recently. There have been three in the past month. John, one was recorded by the Base system the same day as the five members of their crew disappeared.”

“What? Why wasn’t that mentioned?”

“Unknown.”

He stared at the scan. “Do we have any source for more water to reach the lake?” It hurt his physics sensibilities. Water should not exist as a fluid in this environment at all.

“None within sensor range.”

Damnit. He was used to being able to see everything.

“Deploy a net of probes. I want everything in a ten thousand kilometre radius as crystal clear as you can get it.” If there was a pun in there, he refused to acknowledge it.

“Yes, John. That will cover the entire surface of the moon.”

“Exactly.” Something weird was happening here and he wanted to know what. If he had to throw everything Thunderbird Five had at it, he would.

The elevator thrusters fired again and the moon appeared around his windows, followed by the striking red of Three.

“Alan, are you ready?”

“Pod assembled, Thunderbird Five. Awaiting your orders.” There was no tremble in his brother’s voice, but there was an anxious impatience.

The elevator touched down with a soft thud. Eos’ control was perfect. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You are welcome, John.” A pause. “Be safe.”

His lips tightened a little. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

She didn’t answer as he stepped out onto the moon.

-o-o-o-

Alan didn’t remember his mother, but he had four brothers who did and he knew far too well the pain of what had happened when she was taken from them.

The fact that three of those brothers were now buried in the space-ice equivalent of an avalanche was absolutely terrifying.

The water had managed to travel some distance before solidifying and trapping everything. As far as Alan could tell, his brothers were encased in ice.

If they had been on Earth their lives would be in peril. In space, they were at least wearing their spacesuits. But spacesuits could be damaged.

He didn’t let himself follow that train of thought. He couldn’t afford it right now. Instead, he followed procedure.

That was what procedure was for.

It was a matter of minutes before John was stepping off the space elevator, his tall brother as confident and professional as ever.

Part of Alan was still surprised when John directed him to take control of the pod. Perhaps it was because Alan was used to the control freak habits of his two eldest brothers?

“Get us down there Alan.” John was distracted, glaring at his wrist projector.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With John secure in the backseat, Alan threw them down the gaping hole his ‘bird had dug, through the mole’s extension and into the dry cavern below.

The dragonfly latched onto the beacons and they darted down the correct tunnel, glittering rock streaking past them as their twin beams of bright light hit everything.

Including the mass of white that that suddenly swelled up on one side of the tunnel.

It wasn’t quite a wave, more a slosh of water, frozen in motion.

“What the hell?”

“Edge down the tunnel a little further, Scott is...” But they were already there and the flash of blue and red was obvious.

His eldest brother was embedded in the ice halfway up the wall. Alan only had breath as he yanked the dragonfly to an abrupt halt, her claws leaving gouges in the ice. “Scott!”

He was out of the pod as fast humanly possible.

One of his brother’s arms was dangling free and Alan reached for it. “Scott?”

Limp, gloved fingers.

John already had a hand laser out and the red of its beam was cutting ice in a loose silhouette of their brother’s body. As they worked him free, bits of ice fell away to the floor. It was fragmentary. Somewhere between solid and hard packed snow. The water had obviously frozen so quickly, it was aerated enough to stiffen fully.

Fortunately, because Alan had the sudden realisation that spacesuits or no, if his brothers couldn’t expand their ribcages, they couldn’t breathe regardless. The sudden relief sprouted new terror.

John helped Alan lower their big brother to the floor.

“Sc…Scott?”

For a second, Alan thought it was John speaking, but his astronaut brother answered, voice urgent. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Thunderbird Two, status!” John was moving, long legs leaping in the low gravity, propelling him back to the pod. He reached inside and pulled out a large torch. “Alan, attend to Scott.” And then his brother was running further down the tunnel, light bouncing ahead of him, holographic map hovering over his wrist.

A further spark of terror was smothered in Alan’s brain as he turned back to his prone and unconscious eldest brother and began chipping and melting ice to free him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was lying flat on his back staring at white lit up by his helmet lights.

It took him a few solid minutes to realise exactly what he was looking at. His brain felt sluggish and was hurting like hell. He really needed more painkillers.

He automatically tried to calculate how long it was since his last dose and came up blank. There was time missing.

This realisation was quickly followed by the discovery that he wasn’t able to move.

God, his brain was slow. The first thought that came to mind was that yet another building had fallen on him. It happened far more often than he was willing to admit.

But then where was his exosuit?

He blinked slowly.

One arm was caught at an awkward angle and was protesting its position. His legs seemed to be splayed out evenly, though and his other arm seemed happy enough. Hell, there wasn’t really even much weight on him. He had definitely had worse.

But his chest was tight and breathing shallow. Something had him in its grip and he had to force down the visuals that came with that.

Not being able to move always sucked.

He really wished his head would stop hurting.

“Sc..Scott?” It was instinctual. In trouble, call for his big brother.

Need a hand.

“Virgil?” John’s voice. Johnny had the power to call Scotty, to get him help.

He opened his mouth to answer, but something shifted in the ice...ice...it was ice! Memories slammed into him of ice and snow and trapped and oh god...his sluggish brain couldn’t handle it.

“Thunderbird Two, status!”

John’s voice shook him.

Um, um…his heart was beating a mile a minute. He fought for control.

“Virgil? Son?”

Dad.

His father’s voice set off both relief and fear. Relief because of a deep-seated trust in his own father.

Fear because where was Scott? Scott should be here.

But Scott had been with him when the whatever had hit him.

Had hit him.

Water.

Space.

Callisto.

Sparkling crystal flickered in his mind’s eye.

“Scott?”

“Your brother is in good hands.”

Even his sluggish brain could see that as a non-answer. “Dad?”

“We’re digging you out.”

Oh.

As if to emphasize that statement there was a red flash and the world around him hissed. He closed his eyes as the light stabbed into his hurting head.

“Dad? Gordon?”

“Nearly there, son.”

Virgil’s heart clenched.

They uncovered his head first and Virgil teared up at the sight of his father’s worried expression above him. John was there as well, darting in and out of sight, obviously the source of the laser light.

“Johnny…”

There was a crack in the ice.

Ice.

His mind blanked in terror again.

Too many memories.

Far too many.

“Virgil! Look at me!” Dad’s voice held command and he had no choice but to obey. “You are safe.” His hand was being held and Virgil realised it had been cut from the ice. He tried to move his other arm, every heavy-lifting muscle he had straining against its restriction.

Another crack of stressed ice, a yelp from John and Virgil’s arm was suddenly free, ice fragments raining down on him.

Encouraged, he began working on his feet.

“Virgil, stay still just a moment longer.” John’s voice was strained.

Virgil wanted out.

“Virgil.” His Dad grabbed his flailing hand forced him to look at him, grey eyes reflecting the white ice. “Hold still, John is cutting you out.”

Yes, John was cutting him out. Red flickered amongst the white. Virgil swallowed and attempted to get the panic under control and found that he was trembling.

Damn.

He was a rescue operative. He should be calm.

The remaining weight on his belly was removed and he was finally able to take a deep breath.

It helped ever so much.

He closed his eyes and sought his centre.

And fell back on procedure.

If Scott was down, International Rescue was now his responsibility. He needed to be in control.

In control.

By the time John lifted the remaining ice off his legs, Virgil had found himself again. He clambered out of the ice as fast as he possibly could and shot to his feet.

And nearly fell flat on his face for the effort.

His father grabbed him and prevented his fall. “Virgil, sit down.”

There was a flicker of a medscanner, but Virgil was too busy assessing the situation to care. “Scott?”

“With Alan. Unconscious, but safe.”

“Gordon?”

“Still in the cave. Thunderbird Four is silent. I sent Lee. John is following him down.”

Damn. Virgil shook the last of the ice stuck to his uniform, straightened his baldric and took a step towards the direction of the cave, but was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

“You’re not going down there.”

Virgil spun on one foot and the world in all its glittering glory spun with him. “Gordon is down there.”

“John and Lee have him. You were buried in ice, Virgil.”

To his ultimate shame, Virgil shuddered at the concept.

But Gordon...

That grip on his arm tightened. “You’re coming with me.”

Virgil straightened, forcing steel into his spine. “With Scott unconscious, I am in command. I need to be down there.”

“No, you don’t.” His father took a step back up the tunnel, obviously intending to drag Virgil if he had to.

Virgil was no longer the scrappy kid who wanted to play with his paints instead of cleaning his room, and he stood fast.

His father had been in space a long time and his strength had paid the price.

There was no competition.

Buried in ice or not.

“Dad, I am going down to help with Gordon. Scott needs you. I’ll meet you up there the moment Gordon is safe.”

The need to be in two places at once, or more correctly four places, at least, was a common feeling Virgil had to ignore.

Gordon was the priority.

“I need an analysis of what happened. There was a wave. Why? See to Scott and Alan.” He reached up and gently peeled his father’s grip of his arm. “Thank you for helping me. Now I have to go help my brothers.” Turning he hit his comms, asked John for a sit rep and hurried down the tunnel.

He did not look back.

-o-o-o-

Scott had a headache.

That was the first hint of reality and not a new one in his life. He often woke with headaches, the only remaining question was what caused it this time.

“Hey, Scott, are you with us?”

Alan.

Several factors hit home at once. He was wearing his helmet, hence his uniform and Alan, only Alan, had said his name.

Mission.

He was sitting up before his brain had filled him in on the fact he was millions of miles away from home and gravity was a whole different thing on Callisto.

“Whoa!” Hands grabbed him. Hands that definitely belonged to Alan. The astronaut was crouched over him with worried eyes. “Take it easy. You might have a concussion.”

Head injury then.

“Mission status.”

“John’s gone after Gordon. Virgil is awake and out of the ice.”

Gordon. Gordon had been in the water. The weird water.

The very idea of Virgil being buried in ice again awoke horrors he did not want to face.

“Help me up.” Scott rolled himself over, ignoring the protests from his brother to stay put. His head protested very loudly and it became very apparent that the supposed head injury was not impressed with any movement.

Ow.

But, mission.

“Scott, what are you doing?” Another set of hands grabbed at him, which was probably a good thing because he was going down if they hadn’t. As it was, the whole world shifted as he was forcibly lowered to sit on the white, white ground again.

There was a flicker of yellow light and muttering from his youngest brother. “We need to get him back to base.” Alan’s voice was worried.

But Gordon. “I’ve got to go help Gordon.” He tried to stand up again, but too many hands held him down. His shoulders were grabbed and he found a pair of grey eyes staring at him. “Dad? Gordy is in danger.”

“I know son. John, Lee and Virgil will see to him.”

Virgil. He blinked. “Virgil was with me!” Again he struggled to get up.

His father held him down. “Virgil is very determined that he is fine. You, however, are not. You have a concussion. I will take you back to the Base and you will rest. Alan will help his brothers.”

“But-“

The hands on his shoulders squeezed. “Do I have to ask Virgil to reinforce that order?”

Virgil? Order? God, his head hurt.

But this was Dad. Dad knew what to do in space. Dad was...Dad was...

“Scott, you with me?”

He was shaken just a little and his head hated him for it. A groan and his hand encountered his helmet. Augh.

Space sucked.

“C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you into the pod.” Alan’s voice was gentle and professional. He was so proud of his little brother. “Yeah, well, I learnt from the best. Up you get.”

He was pulled slowly to his feet and he had to bite down or lose whatever the hell it was he had eaten last. There were steps and then he was sitting and familiar restraints were holding him in place.

He closed his eyes.

Gordon. He had to help Gordon.

“Your brothers will help him, Scott, you know that.”

But-

His world shook as the pod lifted. He glimpsed the back of his father’s helmet. Dad. Dad was driving. Dad had control.

He could let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan swallowed as their father launched the pod back down the tunnel, its headlights sparkling.

He had reported Scott’s status the moment they had the medscanner’s results and had received a very abrupt acknowledgement from Virgil.

It was unusual to have Virgil in command in space. It wasn’t his native environment and he didn’t venture into it very often. It, of course, wasn’t the first time, and Alan trusted Virgil with his life. But this was Alan’s turf, he needed to be there to help.

He leapt into the remaining dragonfly and dashed off down the tunnel.

It got tighter and tighter as he flew closer to the Crystal Cave, his access blocked by frozen lake water. For a moment he thought he was going to have to abandon the pod, but he was just able to squeeze through the entrance.

The lake was exactly as it had been. Calm and glittering in the pod’s headlamps. He turned slowly on the rocky beach to find Four, free of ice, jammed up against the wall beside the tunnel entrance. She was on her port side, cabin rammed into the rock.

Alan’s heart clenched as he set the dragonfly down.

Both John and Virgil along with Uncle Lee were attempting to gain access via the rear hatch. The ‘bird was made for water, but on the very rare occasion such as this, Brains had built space capable redundancies into her airlock.

How many submersibles in this universe were also space capsules in disguise?

But all this was redundant if the seals had been compromised.

A quick query of Thunderbird Five reassured Alan that Gordon’s vitals were still strong. There was still no response from their fish brother, but he was alive and relatively stable and Four reported no seal ruptures.

Yet.

Virgil grunted as the back of Four was slowly cranked open. Uncle Lee and his engineer brother were putting all their muscle into heaving the hatch open while John slipped into the vehicle.

A moment later the door was shoved shut again and Alan was surprised to see Virgil seal it with a hand laser.

Tired eyes caught Alan’s. His brother didn’t need to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

“Inner airlock door is now compromised.” John’s voice was calm and sure despite the subject matter. “Proceeding to the cockpit.”

Alan stared at Virgil a moment, caught by his haggard expression before hurrying around Four towards her belly viewports.

All he could see was Gordon’s feet. No matter how he shone his hand light through those windows, he could see nothing more. Gordon’s pilot’s seat obscured everything.

For it to be in that position it had to have been severed off its mountings.

Hell.

Determined, Alan scrambled around Four’s nose and tried to find her front viewports. Everything was obscured by rock.

Crystal glittered mockingly at him, an almost scarlet chunk of quartz sticking out of the wall and falling over as if it was reaching for Four.

Alan fought the urge to shove it away from his brother’s ‘bird.

“Cockpit hatch is non-operational. Eos, relay through my suit sensors and give me a detailed report on Gordon’s position.” John’s voice was ever so calm.

Alan wanted to scream.

He hurried back to the lower ports and stared at his brother’s feet.

Again Gordon had been crushed in his ‘bird. How hurt was he this time. How long would he take to recover?

Virgil spoke up and Alan was startled to find his engineer brother and Uncle Lee standing beside him. Virgil was standing ramrod straight. “Eos, can you pull any medical data?”

“Please hold.” The AI’s voice was crisp and professional. “Compensating for interference.”

Damned interference. Alan was so sick of static. Their comm lines and sensor feeds were usually perfect. What was it with this place?

A big hand gently wrapped around his arm.

“I’m fine, Virgil.”

The hand did not let go.

“Thank you, Eos.” How did John stay so calm? “Cutting into the cockpit now.”

Virgil’s wrist control lit up and projected the sensor data he had requested from Eos. True to this place, parts flickered and there was some pixilation, but a clear outline of both Gordon and John inside Four was all the reassurance it could be.

Gordon was curled up on the ‘floor’ of his ‘bird, on what had been Four’s portside viewports.

The laser cutter in John’s hand flared up brightly as he cut through the cockpit hatch mechanisms.

Red light flickered through the marine acrylic enough to catch on Alan’s uniform.

“His right arm is broken again.” Virgil sighed. “He’s going to be so pissed.”

“I’m in.” And John was. Light lit up the viewports, quickly followed by the yellow of a medscanner.

“Oh, thank god.” Beside him, Virgil visibly deflated in relief. The hologram lit up with Gordon’s full medical details. A red alarm hovered over one arm where the break snapped his right ulna and his head had an orange flag that pinpointed a likely concussion. But other than that, Gordon appeared whole and safe, his spacesuit undamaged and airtight. Alan’s shoulders dropped almost as much as Virgil’s.

“He’s safe to move, John.” No doubt John knew that, but Virgil obviously had a need to confirm it anyway. He had a habit of doing that. Alan wasn’t really sure who it was for, Virgil’s brothers or himself.

The next few moments involved cutting open the rear hatch of Four again. This time there was the hiss of escaping atmosphere as Virgil took the entire door off the sub, no longer needing to worry about Gordon’s suit integrity.

John emerged carefully carrying his unconscious brother, Gordon’s helmeted head limp on one shoulder, his arm in an emergency splint, no doubt from one of Four’s first aid packs.

“Vincent, I’m thinking you boys need to take your brother back to base.”

Alan suddenly realised they were a pod or two short to carry all of them. There were five operatives and only one pod.

Uncle Lee eyed Virgil, his lips thin. “Albert, you could fly George while Vincent, John and I dig out the other pod.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he translated that, and Alan frowned at him. His engineer brother was wrecked. Alan could see it in his eyes. Understandable

Virgil’s nod was firm, regardless. “FAB. Alan, you’re with Gordon. John, what is the impact of the interference on Eos’ capability to pilot the pod if necessary?”

Their space brother was looking down at Gordon’s face frowning. “Eos is deploying a moon-wide probe net. We can use them to strengthen the signal. I think that above ground, Thunderbird Five should be able to pilot reliably. I would not recommend attempting it underground.”

Virgil nodded again before striding over to Alan’s pod and, climbing up and throwing the hatch back, began reconfiguring the backseat to transport their injured brother.

Alan hurried over to help and within minutes, John had secured their unconscious aquanaut brother prone on his side in the back of the pod.

Silent, eyes closed, non-responsive.

Alan took off smoothly and with as much care as possible, flew back up the tunnel, heading above ground and back to Callisto Base.

His last glance at the Crystal Cave outlined the shapes of two brothers and an uncle standing ever so alone in a giant cavern that had tried to kill three of his brothers.

-o-o-o-

Next

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

A Truth In Your Eyes (saying you’ll never leave me)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Not Rated (it’s just fucking fluff, y’all!) Notes: There were a few people that were pretty stoked about my first attempt in this universe, so I decided to put out another part. If you haven’t read You Say It Best, you should probably give that one a shot first!  Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Tony does describe a bit of anxiety, though - tread carefully if that’s something that triggers you!  Summary: 

After Peter is careless with his words, Tony is left feeling a little anxious about the stability of things between them. The philharmonic concert he planned to attend doesn't really help - but Peter is there to pick up some of the pieces.

Or - the one where Peter does a little damage control.

Read it on AO3 here

“I sometimes wish you could just hear like everyone else. It’d make things so much easier.”

Despite not being able to actually hear the words, each one rattled inside his head like active bombs just seconds away from going off.

They were dangerous – the type of thing that haunted Tony his entire life; from the halls of school where he struggled daily, to the comfort of his own home growing up. Everyone wished to change him, whether for their own convenience or the ease of being around him – people were always attempting.

Yet, when he met Peter Parker, Tony finally felt like he met someone who could understand him, regardless of the barrier that existed between them. For the first time in his life, Tony wanted to believe that hearing and non-hearing didn’t matter – there was a place where they both could exist in the same realm.

Then, those dreaded words slipped out of Peter’s lips so carelessly – the man not even cognizant of what kind of impact they were going to have.

They were so, so, so careless.

And, as happy as Tony was that Peter came to his senses, his heart still hurt. There wasn’t any way around that feeling – not when his idealistic thought about their relationship was so easily obliterated.

To be completely fair, Peter wasn’t even aware of Tony’s anxiety. There’d been many conversations about Tony and his experience with learning to speak and finding a way to bridge whatever gap existed between himself and another person – Peter seemed interested in all the parts and pieces, even.

After so much discussion and dissection of his experiences, Tony figured the apprehension could remain unspoken, yet understood. He so desperately wanted Peter to understand him – so, some of the hurt stemmed from that glaringly obvious barrier that still existed, no matter how much he wished it otherwise.

Over the last few weeks since Peter came back, Tony spent a lot of time thinking about their time together – the interactions that he treasured so much.

He fondly remembered their first conversation about his deafness – the adorable worry on Peter’s face when he stuttered out the question.

“So, have you always been deaf?”

Tony grinned at him then, his cheeks already warm from the intensity of the smile beaming from his face. The forwardness of Peter’s form of conversation always made him feel a little giddy – while most people hopped around him and tried to navigate murky waters with finesse, Peter barreled on, his idea of asking for forgiveness over permission totally charming.

“Yeah, I have,” Tony replied, his fingers moving through the signs before his brain remembered to add in the spoken word, too. At that time, they hadn’t been together all that long, so the fluent ASL still brought a ‘deer in the headlights’ look to Peter’s adorably rosy cheeks. It took a lot more thinking than Tony usually liked, but the man across from him seemed worth it.

“Both of my parents are hearing – they weren’t even aware I couldn’t hear until I was 3. I hadn’t started talking and did all my communication through gestures. I learned to sign first, then when my dad couldn’t pick it up, I started speech therapy.” He waited a beat, his heart pounding a little bit in anticipation for the words yet to come.

“Speaking makes people more comfortable. Recognizing that we at least have that in common allows me to have a much more genuine conversation than if I just read lips and typed on my phone.”

Peter looked at him with such awe in the minutes to follow his little tangent – his brown eyes were wide and complexly interested; there were probably a million thoughts running through his mind at the time. They were quiet while Peter looked at him and absorbed all of the things Tony said and managed to get out without really saying, too.

Reaching a hand across the table, Peter slipped their fingers together – the touch both soothing and reassuring. After the short time they’d been together at that point, Tony came to rely on the physical communication between them just as much as any other. He let himself relax a little, the usual anxiety leaving him with each dragged out breath.

“I want to make conversing with you as easy as possible, baby. Will you teach me ASL? Enough for us to talk to each other, at least? I’m a pretty quick learner.” Peter looked at him so earnestly – the words and gesture both so fucking genuine.

Tony delightfully recalled the way warmth spread from the center of his chest to every inch of his being, his fingers and toes on fire from those beautiful words – even now, after so much time and the little bit of hurt. Peter was careless, that much was certain; but he wasn’t heartless – his attempt to bridge the gap between them proved to be genuine time and time again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony forced himself away from his reminiscent thoughts – he’d been sitting in his seat in the audience waiting for the concert to start for a while now; long enough for his thoughts to run wild and so far away from him. If he didn’t’ force himself back to the present, he could easily miss out on Peter’s entire performance.

While stuck in his thoughts, Tony missed the room filling up – most of the seats that were once empty around him were entirely full, even the two down from his own. Tony took a second to reprimand himself for the negligence – one of his keys to success stemmed from the fact that he paid attention to everything… at all times.

Except lately – over the past few weeks, Tony found himself struggling a little harder than usual to stay present; especially with people outside of his little bubble. Usually, public gatherings weren’t too much of a hardship, but tonight – tonight, Tony was struggling.

Luckily, the lights were lowering as Tony came back to himself – the many people in the audience settling down with the reduced lighting. Most concert goers understood crowd etiquette – the when, where, and how things were conducted played a part in the whole experience.

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Tony let his eyes roam across the stage until he found Peter amongst the crowd of shiny instruments and stuffy individuals wrapped up in starchy, unmoving tuxedos. Though he too was stuck in such an outfit, Peter stood out – his wavy hair glistened under the lighting – his confidence radiating off of him in waves that only Tony could see.

The sight brought a smile to his face; even though he wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing his boyfriend played, Tony could clearly see how talented he was – Peter’s skill existed in every part of him, not just the sound he happened to produce.

After a short introduction from the conductor, the performance was on its way. They opened with a steady piece, the vibrations starting out minimal, then gaining pace until the ultimate crescendo peaked to end it all. The last few notes hung in the room, each person within Tony’s view completely captivated already.

For most of the performance, Tony tried his best to pick out Peter’s parts – with the combined visual cues and the learned feeling, he felt successful about half of the time. By the last few songs, Tony’s brain felt fatigued – Peter’s winks and affectionate looks between pieces the only thing really keeping him in it at all.

The last piece ended with a loud (even to Tony) sea of applause that filled up the entire room. To blend in with the crowd, Tony stood up with the rest of his row, his hands coming together to mimic the claps around him. He copied the behavior until it was clear for him to vacate the row.

His feet couldn’t carry him backstage fast enough.

Tony flashed the security guard his badge (the man fondly known as Little Ed shot him a soft smile as he did). Throughout his time with Peter, Tony learned the layout of their performance space and easily found him, his boyfriend delightfully flushed from the still flowing adrenaline of a job well done.

Brown eyes caught him before Tony could make it over to Peter physically – Peter’s stare stopping him in his tracks for a moment. The look never failed to knock him back, Tony completely smitten with the dark pupiled gaze, Peter’s nonverbal communication increasing tenfold since the first time they locked eyes like this. Without saying anything, Tony knew Peter was grateful for his presence, that seeing him right after such a big success made him just as happy as the performance itself.

Grinning, Tony narrowed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter’s waist the second they were within touching distance. He nuzzled his nose into Peter’s neck, the silent ‘hello’ exactly what he needed after so much artificial noise buzzing around in his head. After placing a small kiss to salty skin, Tony pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

“You were amazing,” Tony signed, his voice inaccessible to him after so much earlier strain. He trusted Peter’s ASL skill, anyway – they’d been working hard over the last few weeks to make the man completely conversational.

Peter didn’t disappoint, his handsome face breaking into a happy grin, the edges of his mouth actually reaching his eyes. He let a hand brush against Tony’s suit jacket clad shoulder, the touch brief, yet reassuring.

“Thank you,” Peter replied, his fingers touching his chin in the recognizable sign. “It’s so nice to have you in the crowd. It’s like everyone else fades away and it’s just you and me. I really like that.”

Tony smiled shyly, his eyes watching Peter’s lips form those last words with interest. He quickly recalled the last time he saw them, their skin much more flush and sticky then – both totally sated in the afterglow. The blush on his cheeks deepened, his smile turning into a smirk.

“I really like you.” Tony palmed Peter’s cheek as he spoke, his voice suddenly finding its way out of his throat.

Peter wrapped him up in a sudden hug, his arms squashing Tony to his chest. Since their little reunion a few weeks ago, Peter seemed hell bent on making up for it – whether it was through more diligent signing or an abundance of physical contact, Peter doubled his efforts – the try in his behavior apparent.

Letting a sigh slip through his lips, Tony felt himself relax into the contact. He appreciated the effort – there really wasn’t anything like the feeling of being in Peter’s arms. Yet, he wondered if it was just an attempt to win Tony back over, or if it was truly how things were going to go from now on.

He realized after Peter’s walk out, just how tangible being left behind actually was. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think about it before – every time they struggled to be on the same page, Tony found himself thinking how much easier it would be for Peter to be with someone else – someone that didn’t struggle to reciprocate… someone that, well – could hear.

When things were good between them, it was easy to brush off.

Ever since their falling out, though, Tony found it harder to just push to the side. If a little bit of annoyance could drag such careless words from Peter’s mouth, what would the long haul look like for them? Was it even worth it for Peter? Would there ever truly be a future for Tony’s deafness and Peter’s hearing to cohabitate successfully? So much fear sat in the pit of his stomach, so many unknowns and questions unanswered – Tony was already so damn overcome by love and near acceptance, losing Peter wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

Fear and apprehension weren’t things Tony wanted to carry around with him, especially where Peter was concerned. Despite that want, Tony couldn’t stop himself from fretting or feeling anxious. Times like that very moment, when Peter wrapped him up in strong arms, they kept things at bay – but, only just barely.

Pulling away from Peter’s hug, Tony gave his boyfriend a little space – his sheet music and taken apart saxophone still sat on the table next to them, his presence obviously slowing down the cleaning up process. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The quicker we get to that after party, the quicker we’ll be able to leave.”

Peter shot him a smirk, then went about deconstructing his mouthpiece, the reed lovingly placed in its protector, then slotted into its spot in the case. Everything Peter did was precise, the movement of his hands hypnotic – Tony finding himself completely glued to them more often times than not.

Blinking the unnecessary distraction away, he turned his back to his boyfriend, cutting off any further means of communication for the time being.

Tony put Peter’s sheet music away, his eidetic memory allowing him to remember the order it usually existed in. With that done, Tony slipped it into Peter’s bag, grabbed the saxophone case from Peter’s hand, and offered up his arm for Peter to take. The weight in the crook of his elbow was comforting, the affection something Tony knew he’d need to get through the next step of their forced social adventure.

They took the extra time needed to get Peter’s instrument into the car, the few stolen minutes together some of the last they would get until obligations were fulfilled and the right people were spoken to. As much as he wanted to be by Peter’s side throughout the entire ordeal, Tony couldn’t keep up with everything – too many people to tune into and too much noise to navigate made it incredibly difficult to be anything but a bother.

Which is how Tony found himself in the corner, desperately attempting to escape conversation with the masses. He followed Peter around for a while, catching a few names here and there, exchanging the necessary hellos – then bowed out as quickly as he could. If he weren’t already in a state of anxiety, he probably would have tried to hold on a little tighter to the forced interactions. But, he couldn’t do it – not when his head was buzzing and every second he attempted to lip read felt like trudging through sludge – every exchange between himself and another person the heaviest burden.

He grabbed a flute of champagne and let himself relax against the wall, hazel eyes flitting between all of the different people occupying the space. The musicians were easy to pick out, they were still sporting the matching penguin suits. Stiff members of the upper echelon of New York society also stuck out like a sore thumb – there were only a select few that would jazz themselves up to the nines to attend a concerto. The random few (himself included) flitted in and out of recognition. Some were there with other musicians, and some seemed happy just to be in attendance, regardless of their standing.

As the minutes passed, Tony felt his head starting to buzz more intensely than before. After such a long day, he couldn’t decide if it was because the long use of his hearing aids, or the overwhelming nature of being in a crowd for an extended duration of time. Unlike Peter, Tony didn’t do much of his life surrounded by lots of people. The small five person dinners they sometimes hosted were a bit much – a huge room of people, all of which were talking non-stop, bordered on impossible.

Depositing his glass on the nearest flat surface, Tony reached up to fiddle with his hearing aids. He knew, the second he switched them off, the rest of the world would be blissfully silent – and yet, at the same time, his ability to communicate with it would be severely diminished. Despite the fact that he’d been mainstream his entire life, reading lips and keeping up with multiple people talking at the same time was not easy; and never would be.

Knowing what he knew, nimble fingers still moved to shut off the hearing devices, their assistance no longer anything but taxing and somewhat debilitating.

Peter must’ve seen him struggling – in the next second, Tony had a hand on his elbow, the comforting squeeze of familiar fingers grounding him, despite the small scare the touch provided. There was concern written all over his face, the small little crease between his brows both cute and reassuring. His hand moved to find Tony’s cheek, soft skin against soft skin.

“Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn those off in public before,” Peter signed, his fingers pointing at the hearing aids in his ears. “This crowd must be a lot.”

Tony allowed himself to lean into Peter’s touch, the overwhelming feeling he tried to bottle up throughout the night finally coming to the surface under the affectionate care. Ducking his head, Tony rested his forehead against Peter – breaths intermingling. He sucked in a big lungful of oxygen, the smell of Peter’s cologne a familiar entity that helped to stop him from jumping over the preverbal cliff he felt perched over throughout the evening.

“I’m struggling, Pete – I’m not going to lie. This whole night has been a lot. All the sound, all the people. I just can’t keep up.” He signed each of the words, the idea of speaking without the help of his hearing aids one he didn’t even want to process. Tony was thankful Peter was paying close attention to him – the crowd not giving him any trouble at all.

The hand on his cheek shifted again, Peter’s long fingers sinking into the grown out hair at the back of his neck. Tony felt his eyes close, the world around them melted away with every pass of blunt fingernails against the surface of his scalp. With his eyes closed, it truly felt like it was only him and Peter – the bubble of silence so fucking nice after all the stress.

Peter continued to pet him until Tony opened his eyes again. The soft smile he found on Peter’s face made his heart race, his own grin settling over his lips for what felt like the first time all day. A swift tug to his hair signaled Peter’s retreat, his boyfriend using his hands to sign at him, instead.

“I think I’ve been here long enough. What do you think about heading home and ordering some take out? I could go for some pho.” Peter exaggerated the last sign, his lips making a round ‘O’ that he dragged out.

And despite being so entirely wrung out, Tony couldn’t stop the laugh that wormed its way out – Peter knew how to make him feel better, without really even trying. His ability to know what Tony needed just by simply looking at him reminded Tony of the reason he felt the need to trust Peter in the first place. He didn’t always class it up the best, but he delivered seamlessly, regardless.

Nodding, Tony stepped into Peter’s space, wrapping his arms around slim shoulders to bring him in close. He held him tightly for a moment, just long enough to absorb Peter’s heat, then let him go. “That sounds good – thank you.”

It took them a few minutes to actually make their excuses and get out of the concert hall, but they were soon on their way – Tony tucked into Peter’s side as they made quick work of the space between the building and the parking lot. Still feeling a bit off balance, Tony clung to Peter with every step; vulnerability oozed from him and for the moment, he didn’t really give a shit.

They made it back to Peter’s place twenty minutes later – both of them slipping out of their suits and into soft matching flannel pajama pants they cheesily wore during the holiday’s a couple months before. It felt good to be wrapped up in the small comforts, the companionship between himself and Peter tangible in all sorts of ways.

There wasn’t any talking while they got settled. Peter ordered their food without having to ask Tony what he wanted. While Peter took care of their eats, Tony set up the latest episode of Peaky Blinders, the closed captions on and ready to go.

The simplicity of one of their typical routines let all the surrounding anxiety melt away from Tony – the only thing left the ease of the environment he inhabited with his favorite person.

Peter made his presence in the living room known with a swift touch to Tony’s shoulder, his fingers settling on the back of his neck. Turning, Tony shot him a soft smile, his hand gracing Peter’s hip before shifting to sign.

“You really were great tonight, Pete. I love watching you play.” He finished the last sign with a soft touch to Peter’s cheek. “I sometimes wish I could hear like everyone else, too.”

Moving quickly, Peter gripped Tony’s cheeks, the move drawing Tony’s attention immediately.

“I should have never said that. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Your eyes never left me – each song, it was like I was playing to you and you alone. It’s the most intimate playing experience I’ve ever had, Tony. You don’t need to hear me – you get me. That’s more than enough.”

Not really knowing how much he needed to be told that, Tony felt chest getting a little tighter. It didn’t occur to him that his anxiety that evening circled around the feeling of not knowing how secure things with Peter really were. He forgave him his words weeks ago – they were careless and they both understood that. Maybe he didn’t let go of the feeling those words created within him as easily, though; the whispers of them still haunting him.  

Sighing, Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together. “I know. I really do. I just – I’m feeling anxious. I was so sure that you just sort of understood me. And you do. I know that, too. It just – broke me a little. You saying what you did. Are you going to be able to handle this,” Tony signed, pausing to gesture between them, “years down the road? I’m always going to be deaf. I’m always going to have nights like tonight. I love you, Pete. I don’t want to lose you.”

The seconds between the words sitting in the space between them and Peter’s response felt like years – Tony’s heart thudded against his chest, each beat like lead running through his veins. It wasn’t an ultimatum, per say – he wasn’t laying down a this or that, but the answer was important all the same. He already went down the rabbit hole of falling in love and depending on the man in front of him. In all of his life, Tony didn’t want anything else in this world more than a future with Peter.

There was so much potential – their relationship consisted of so many components; friendship, love, intimacy – all of the important variables for long lasting companionship and happiness.

At the same time, there were room for complications, too. Especially if there wasn’t a certain kind of commitment that came with living with a person with a disability. Accommodations would always need to be made, whether it be in their method of communication or the environment of whatever home they lived in.

They could do it – he knew they could. And even better yet, he wanted to; more than anything, he wanted to make a real go at things with Peter, even more so than they already were.

Peter returned the kiss after many seconds of silent contemplation. He let the lip to lip contact linger, Tony soaking up the touch, letting the flare of want and contentment surge through him. Brown eyes stayed on Tony as Peter created space, his hands moving to sign.

“It’s a lot – the future. What’s going to happen, where I might be. The only thing I know for sure is that I want you there with me. I was really thoughtless, wasn’t I? Saying what I said.” Peter stopped then, his right hand grabbing Tony’s while the other rubbed circles across his own chest – the sign for sorry making Tony smile lightly. He didn’t need to nod his head for Peter to know the answer to his question – the simple fact that they were having this conversation at all spoke volumes.

After a quick squeeze, Peter dropped Tony’s hand, his fingers moving to sign again. “I’m not going to say that the challenges were going to face aren’t scary – because they are. I’ll probably get it wrong most of the time, but I’m willing to try. I want to, even. This, what we have, it’s it for me.”

Not really sure where they came from, Tony was surprised to feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He couldn’t remember welling up or feeling the incessant need to let stuff out that usually prefaced the times he cried. Yet, there they were, flowing freely down to his chin – the path of which Peter quickly followed with his thumb.

It felt like a catharsis – the sort of cleansing of anger and anxiety that Tony wasn’t aware he needed until halfway in it. Instead of freaking like he did so many times before when emotions became too big, Tony let them go, the soft touch of Peter’s hand on his skin helping to relax him even further. For once, it felt good to let go – to rid his system of the terrible shit he kept inside because there wasn’t anywhere else for it to be.

Except – not anymore. As evidenced by this very moment, Peter could take on some of his burden, he could hold Tony up when everything might’ve gone to shit before.

“I want that, too,” Tony finally managed to reply. He felt completely overcome and suddenly drained of all energy. All of the emotions from what felt like his entire life were exorcised – the wash of tears the physical manifestation of it. Now, all Tony wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s arms and simply exist – no barriers or hard feelings between them.

Apart from detangling to bring the food into the apartment, Tony spent the rest of the night in that exact way – wrapped up in Peter’s embrace without a care in the world.

[fanaticfangirl001]

Like Real People Do Ch 3: Ex- Best Friends

Author's note: Oof don't hate me guys.

@kissofvenom922

@p3nny4urth0ught5

Winnie carries her laptop to the kitchen and sets it down on the bar. Grabbing the eggs for her omelet, she resumes the footage captured from a small drone nicknamed “Red Wing”. She cracks an egg one handed into the bowl then another. For an Avenger Falcon doesn’t really have the best cyber-security on his drone. Maybe she would get the chance to fix that if she ever did meet him. She dices onions and bits of ham when Redwing spots a warehouse just outside of a heavily wooded area. Satisfied with the few screenshots of the area and a geotag, Winnie mixes the eggs and toppings for her omelet together. As she cooks the eggs, Winnie sprinkles in generous amounts of cheese. She sighs and dials the new number on her phone.

As she waits for the recipient to pick up Winnie sits at her dining room table and starts eating her breakfast.

“Hi, Is this Joaquin Torres, don’t panic. I’m the security breach. I work with a formerly avenger adjacent super powered individual. “Winnie greets.

“Uh yes,who are you and who is your super powered individual?” Joaquin asks, trying to keep her on the phone to track her location.

“Call me W, and um Bucky Barnes.” Winnie answers carefully stabbing a piece of egg.

“The Winter Soldier? Joaquin zero ins on the IP address, placing her in Sweden.

“He’s not that person anymore.”Winnie adds.

“Your IP address puts you in Sweden, something tells me you're not Swedish. “Joaquin smirks.

“I like Swedish soap operas, I can’t very well get them here.” Winnie laughs.

“VPN, that’s smart. Joaquin says.

“Thank you.” Winnie can’t help but be a little charmed by this man. There’s something about his voice.

“ I’m almost a little impressed. “ Joaquin admits.

“ Would you be impressed if I said I’m watching Red Wing.” Winnie gloats

“ You hacked into Sam’s tech. He’s not gonna like that. “ Joaquin warns.

“Not maliciously, I just need a few questions answered.” Winnie defends herself.

“ Shoot. “ Joaquin replies.

“What are the flag smashers after?”Winnie asks.

“They think the world was better during the blip.” Joaquin answers with the few bits of information he has.

“But why? I’m also trying to figure out why they pin their location, after a few hours it disappears but I’ve saved a few on my map. No real pattern, just places where people need help. Could be anywhere after returning.” Winnie questions.

“That’s the million dollar question. I’m meeting with Sam on Friday.” Joaquin adds, “ Red Wing as you can see found something in Munich.

“Hotspot of activity.” Winnie muses.

“Bingo.” Joaquin snaps his fingers.

“ It’ll be hard to convince Buck,” Winnie pauses then adds,” But if worst comes to worst I’ll go by myself. Ex-shield after all. “

“You were with S.H.I.E.L.D Like Peggy Carter, S.H.I.E.L.D. ?” Joaquin asks, shocked.

“Or Clint Barton, Or Natasha Romanoff.” Winnie names a few more.

“Woah.” Joaquin says.

“See you Friday.” Winnie ends the call.

Winnie sighs and puts the plate in the sink to wash later. If she’s going to Munich on Friday, she’ll need her old gear. She walks to her room and digs through the closet until she pulls out a large waterproof rubber bin. It’s everything she took when she left S.H.I.E.L.D. Winnie pulls off the tote’s lid and takes out the top most piece of clothing. The tactical overalls, a pair of black bullet proof overalls with several pockets along the front and back, including two gun holsters on each side, a place to hold a lightweight enforced steel whip: another invention of her’s.

She sets the overalls aside, and opens a small box. Inside is a tactical ring. The ring itself has a sharp side to be used in a fight, it contains a small piece of flint for fire starting, a compass, and a vial of poison. The buzzing and vibrating of her phone pulls her out of the going through the box. Another text from Sharon, Winnie deletes it without reading. She puts on the ring and remembers her first mission with Sharon. It was a simple gun smuggler recovery. The two worked together perfectly. Sisters from different misters, was constantly used to describe the two. After a few years of missions, Winnie noticed the acknowledgement and accomplishments were awarded to Sharon. Sharon is the niece of the afamed Peggy Carter, it made sense that she would be praised but it slowly began to chip away at her. The worst had to be after the medal of honor ceremony only a few years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flash back)

“The Secretary of Defense would like to bestow the medal of honor to Sharon Carter, for the retrieval and restoration of several Hydra communications. Without these SHIELD and Captain America would not be able to capture the rogue hydra base in the warehouse in Rhode Island.” Director Fury states.

The Secretary of Defense pins the medal on Sharon’s lapel as the room abrupts into thunderous applause. Winnie watches from the sideline with a polite glass of champagne, she doesn’t drink but will certainly toast a friend, even if the saving the file and decoding was all her. Sharon just served as her cover during the mission. She takes a deep breath and pushes those thoughts down. She’s here to celebrate her friend’s accomplishment. Winnie looks around to find Sharon at the after party being held for her.

“Winnie,” Sharon hugs her, “ Do you want to get some drinks with us and some of the guys from research?”

“I don’t drink, you know that.” Winnie lets go of her.

“Lighten up, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. “Sharon insists.

“I like the work.” Winnie shrugs.

“Fine, you’ll get out of drinks this time, but get some sleep tonight.” Sharon says before being dragged off by a group of guys.

“I will. I promise.” Winnie shouts to her before leaving for the apartment.

(End flash back)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the ceremony Winnie put in a request to change divisions. Director Fury accepted the change to Research and Development. The next thing she pulls out of her box are the rocket boots. Many of Winnie’s inventions became the punchline of all the research and Development department’s jokes. The Rocket Boots, were the most egregious. As the Avengers developed, because of the hostile working environment they’re gear stayed relatively the same. No innovations made with the gear from Winnie’s perspective. She did try to design weapons for Sharon but that didn’t go well either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flash back)

“Sharon, you have to see this.” Winnie insists dragging Sharon to the training room.

“ Winnie, this is the first time you’ve been excited about something, what is it?” Sharon asks letting herself be dragged.

“This.” Winnie pulls out from her back, a light weight steel whip.

“A whip?” Sharon’s eyebrows narrow.

“Yeah, it’s lightweight steel and with a little extra training.” Winnie starts rambling about the implications.

“Winnie. Focus. I need practical weapons...like guns.”

“Okay practical. I got you. What about this?” Winnie holds a small metal sphere.

“What is it?”

“I call it a black out bomb, it short circuits and fries electrical systems in a surrounding area.” Winnie explains then adds “ This could help take down so many Hydra bases quicker.”

“There’s not a problem with our speed.” Sharon says.

“Well no, I just thought this would be safer.” Winnie shrugs starting to shut down.

“Anything else?” Sharon asks.

“Taser grenade.” Winnie suggests.

“No.” Sharon says.

“Dagger boomerangs.” Winnie suggests, this time almost hopeful.

“No.” Sharon’s voice is flat and annoyed.

“Rocket boots.” Winnie holds up the boots.

“No.”

“But the boots, “ Winnie shakes the boots.

(End of Flashback)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winnie gently puts down all her personalized weapons in their respective pockets in the overalls. She puts the boots by the door, knowing they will be the most useful. She’ll show the world just how great her own inventions can be. Winnie looks down at her phone, another text from Sharon sits unanswered. She sighs and deletes it once again, still hurt from the ending of their friendship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Flash Back)

Winnie looks over her shoulder in the Research lab and relaxes when she realizes everyone else is out to lunch and or working out. She sets up her laptop and begins a bit of light reading on a newly created file that was just out of her clearance level. She squints reading the money transactions and leadership positions. Is this some sort of bribery or hush money. Winnie dives deeper and downloads the files. There’s no way this is possible. Hydra has infiltrated Shield.

Winnie quickly types out a letter of resignation and emails it to the office of Director Fury. She takes her flash drive and laptop to the apartment to show Sharon.

“ I have something to tell you, but you can’t ask how i know.” Winnie runs in the apartment and locks the door behind her.

“Woah, calm down! That’s an awful way of introducing something.” Sharon raises a hand in front of her.

“ Yeah well it’s bad news.” Winnie takes a few breaths.

“ Shoot.” Sharon says sitting down.

“Hydra is in SHIELD.” Winnie blurts out.

“How do you know this?” Sharon asks in shock.

“ I can’t tell you. You’ll be in danger if you know. Hell, I’m probably in danger right now.” Winnie rambles getting more anxious.

“I need some proof. Give me your laptop.” Sharon insists on trying to take the laptop.

“No! They’ll kill me and you. I can’t show you, just trust me.” Winnie holds her laptop closer to her.

“You sound paranoid and on edge.

“Sharon, just trust me. I’m not making it up. I saw contracts and money transactions.”

“Winnie, when’s the last time you’ve gotten a full eight hours.

“That’s not important. I know what I saw.

“Winnie, what do you want me to do?

“I want you to believe me so we can save the damn Sharon Show.

“ The what?

“I-I didn’t mean that, I meant SHIELD.”

“Is that really what you think about SHIELD?

“You can’t say I’m wrong. I’m just as good an agent as you are, and whenever we get back it’s like I don’t exist.”

“Is this about the medal of honor?”

“No it’s not but you told me to get the files and you covered my back. I got the files, and restored them. You got the credit for saving and restoring the files. Your manicured hands never touched a laptop. It took me a week straight of decoding.”

“ Winnie, you’re overreacting. SHIELD is safe.

“I put in my resignation. I’m not staying to get killed and watch this ship sink.

“Okay here’s my theory, I can’t tell you why but maybe you’re the Hydra traitor.”

“Fuck you!” Winnie screams at her while packing quickly. “I spent five years working alongside you, and you think I’d do that! I’m leaving. Call me when you’re not a bitch!”

In Winnie’s fast paced packing she left her flash drive with the evidence with Sharon. Everyday after Sharon found out Winnie was right, she carried around that flash drive just for the off chance that she could return it to her ex-friend.

[thdorkmagnet]

Where in the World is Janna Ordonia?

Hello everyone! Here is my Carmen Sandiego AU/ Master Theif Janna AU, whichever you want to call it! So this is, as you probably guessed, inspired by the new Netflix series "Carmen Sandiego". Ever since I watched the first episode I've been picturing Janna filling this role so much and I just had to write it! But I did change some things around from the show like making Janna a straight up thief rather than a thief who only steals from other thieves. This will also be a Jantom fic since I don't think there are nearly enough of those out there right now and I wanted to help add to the collection. This ship needs more love!

Also big shout out to Andychipss for the awesome cover art! If you get a chance check her out over on Instagram! She always does an incredible job!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters belong to Daron Nefcy and Disney. Carmen Sandiego belongs to Broderbund Software, Netflix and Lauren Elliott. All right go to them.

The city of lights was dazzling that particular evening, its namesake casting a brilliant and beautiful glow across all of Paris. Even the dark corners seemed to hold a life to them, making the whole city feel as peaceful and romantic as they say. And on one particular rooftop stretching high above the paved streets below stood a young woman. She wore a black long-sleeve shirt with matching pants and long black boots, giving her the outward appearance of a shadow herself. But blending in would be rather difficult for her since over that she wore a bright red trench coat and matching fedora. Her short dark hair hung slightly out from beneath her hat. She had tanned skin and brown eyes. Her appearance was eye-catching that was for sure, which was why it was a strange choice of attire coming from one of the most elusive and legendary thieves in the world. Her name which was known across the world was Janna Ordonia, the Scarlet Thief.

The girl looked coolly out from under the brim of her hat, holding a pair of small binoculars to her eyes. From her sight, she spotted her next target up ahead, a museum. She watched as some security guards made their rounds, in the exact pattern she memorized over the last few days of staking the place out. "Predictable," she sighed slipping the pocket-sized spying device into her coat pocket. "I was hoping for a bit more of a challenge," she groaned in boredom.

"Well y'know, you could wait until Acme shows up," came a voice from inside the communication device in her ear. "You know some of their agents are on your trail since you set fire to that shop earlier today." His voice was accusing now, clearly trying to make her feel guilty for her crime.

But Janna was unaffected by the attempt, saying plainly, "Come on, Alfonso, I can hardly be blamed for that, they were asking for it."

"How?" Alfonso asked in exasperation.

"Charging 30 bucks for a stupid model of the Eiffel tower is insane!" Janna scoffed. "And they call me a thief."

The young hacker just sighed burying his head in his hands. "Anyways, am I all clear to head inside?" Janna asked returning the conversation back to the task at hand.

Alfonso complied, doing a few keystrokes on his computer, but still grumbling under his breath in annoyance. "Yeah, hang on," he mumbled, shutting down all security in the museum as if it were no big deal. "There, done. But you better do this job fast before someone realizes it's down."

"Hey no problem, fast is my middle name," Janna said, doing a quick stretch to loosen up her muscles. It was important to stay flexible in this line of work.

"I thought you didn't have a middle name," Alfonso pointed out.

"Well I just gave myself one," the girl replied, before leaping off the roof. As she fell she whipped out a grappling gun she kept in her sleeve, firing it and attaching it to another building's side. She felt the string go taint as she sailed around the side of the building, detaching it fluidly off the wall before flying into an opened window and right into the museum.

Her feet hit smooth tile as she tried to slide to a delicate stop. But she didn't predict her momentum correctly as she stopped just short of hitting a wall and knocking a small pedestal holding some priceless vase on it. Janna didn't even have time to dive for it before it hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces. The young thief sucked in a breath waiting to see if the loud noise had attracted any guards, but after a couple beats of silence, Janna declared it a false alarm and let her body relax once more.

Alfonso, however, was less calm, as his squeaky voice spoke up from Janna's earpiece, "What was that noise?! Janna did you break something!"

Janna scoffed, kicking the fragmented pieces under a nearby fancy rug. "Aw, relax I'm sure it wasn't that important."

"Janna!" The young hacker screamed and the girl was tempted to take the earpiece off to avoid the inevitable rant but settled for merely reminding her friend, "Better keep your voice down, Al. Wouldn't want to wake your roommate."

The audible groan through the earpiece was her reward as she sauntered superiorly though the quiet museum, keeping her eyes peeled for her target. Alfonso's roommate Ferguson often got on the young hacker's nerve, especially when they were on a caper. The loudmouthed teen seemed to have no self-control as he would frequently butt in and distract Al while he was trying to hack, getting overeager and nosy over what the two were doing (treating it more like a game than a life or death situation), and just being a general nuisance, which frayed Alfonso's last nerve. But this seemed to do the trick as the boy stopped with his incessant whining and Janna was able to enjoy a couple minutes of silence, taking everything in. She walked with practiced ease through the marble halls, making sure her footsteps made no sound as she traveled deeper inside. Her brown eyes scanned the area, alert and precise, despite her relaxed posture, taking in slow breaths of musty air.

She always loved being in a dark museum at night, the empty and quiet always soothing to her. As much as she loved chaos, even Janna couldn't deny how beautiful and simplistic a simple trip through the abandoned hallways could be. It was like looking into a hidden world, a peek behind the curtains. During the day, the museum was close to bursting with tourists and tour groups and kids on school field trips, making the experience feel cheapened and hallow. But at night, that was when the museum could truly be itself, no lights, no spectacles, no overzealous explanations of what made its contents art, it could just exist and allow its art to speak for itself. And that was something Janna could relate too.

Her eyes glance lazily around at the paintings and sculptures and all forms of artistic achievements, each one a masterpiece in its own right and each one probably worth a fortune. But none of them were what she was looking for. She had a much bigger prize in mind.

The girl came to a stop in front of a large painting, the image a portrait of a sailor, the delicate paint strokes perfectly encapsulating the man's gruff demeanor. Janna cocked her head to the side as if admiring it closely as she said into her earpiece, "Alfonso, I'm at the painting."

"Great, the panel should be behind it, I've overwritten the security codes but you'll have to pick the lock yourself," the hacker replied, all business now.

Janna smiled mischievously. "Not a problem." She took a step closer to the painting, saying softly to the image, "Sorry about this, captain." She gently grabbed the painting's frame, lifting it off its hook and moving it as carefully and quietly as she could. As she did she noticed that her eyes were now level with the deep angry eyes of the painting and she muttered under her breath, "Hey, don't give me that look. You brought this on yourself." Without another word, she set the painting down on the opposite wall, before turning back to her next objective. It was a small safe, made of thick unbreakable metal, and Janna could see it had two sets of locks on its smooth surface, an electronic lock with a small series of buttons and a panel, as well as a combination lock next to it. On closer inspection, Janna could see that Alfonso had already done his part, the panel flashing the word "Entry". Now all that was left was for Janna to do her part.

Janna cracked her knuckles, flexing them a little to make sure they were nice and loose. She carefully grabbed hold of the small turn-style knob, putting her ear up to the door as she began to ever so slowly move the knob left. Soon she heard a click echo through the cold metal and smiled, immediately turning the knob the other way, waiting for the next click to sound. She continued on with this meticulous task, making sure to move slowly and preciously with each turn of the dial. Until finally, the last click sounded and she took a step away, whispering smugly, "Child's play."

With one swift motion, she turned the handle and pulled the safe door open, staring inside with a victorious smile. Inside the small metal box sat a plain black briefcase with a simple lock that took the highly skilled Janna only a minute to pick. She flicked up the latches before opening the container, wanting to make sure she had the correct package. And just as she had predicted inside sat a small golden statue sealed tight in the foam covering they had carefully placed around it so it wouldn't be jolted or damaged. The statue was in the shape of a woman, a ballerina, her arms raised in a graceful and beautiful pirouette.

"Is it there?" Al asked nervously, he always got anxious when he couldn't identify the item firsthand.

Janna whistled, eying the statue closely as she muttered under her breath, "Oh it's here all right."

The young hacker let out a sigh of relief, before saying, "Good."

"Must be pretty special if our client wants it so badly," Janna commented.

"The Golden Dancer is one of the rarest statues in the world. It is one of a set of three identical statues kept in hidden locations around the globe. They originated in-"

"Geez, Professor Al, I didn't ask for the history lesson," Janna interrupted, sealing the briefcase back up and closing the safe. It was time to cover her tracks. Hopefully, no one would even notice it was even missing, at least for a while.

Alfonso let out a groan of annoyance but decided to change the subject, informing the girl instead, "Okay Janna, you'll need to be extra careful moving around the statue, we don't want to risk damaging it."

"Come on, Al, we've worked together for how long now?" Janna told him, setting the large painting back in its place from before. "Don't you know me better than that by now."

"The fact that I know you so well is exactly why I said something," Alfonso deadpanned.

Janna made a hurt scoff into the tiny device, telling him, "Well that's just rude." Her face showed a different story though, as she just smirked and nodded in satisfaction at her work. The painting was now perfectly aligned on the wall again, not an inch of it out of place, you couldn't even tell it had been moved at all. She picked up the briefcase, saying smugly, "Okay, now I think it's about time for my dramatic exit."

Just then a loud shout sounded from elsewhere in the museum, the echoed voice bouncing around the walls and Janna turned to it with a start. "Jan, what was that?" a nervous voice asked in her ear, Alfonso clearly hearing the voice too.

Janna, however, just whispered softly to herself, "Hmm, I was wondering when they'd show." Her smirk widened as she added, "This should be fun."

…

The two Acme agents walked side by side through the dark museum, both on high alert, their eyes darting as they meticulously searched the room for any threats. Well the young man was, the other seemed too entranced by every painting, sculpture, and statue they came across, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration as she looked over each piece of art. This wasn't the only contrast between the two, the two seeming to be as different as night and day, despite their similar style. Both wore fancy black suits (the standard for all Acme agents) but where the boy's was well-pressed and had not a crease out of place, the girl's was wrinkled in a few places but still quite beautiful on her slim frame. The man's short spiky brown hair was perfectly styled and lay even on his tanned face, his brown eyes narrowed in grim determination, which was almost thwarted by the adorable mole just under his left eye. His blood-red tie was a stark contrast to the pure white dress shirt he wore underneath his suit. The girl's long blond locks seemed to almost flow down her back, a small blue butterfly clip resting just above her bangs. She had on a carefree smile and walked with a noticeable skip in her step. She had on a dark blue tie and wore a black skirt and dark blue stockings rather than the dress pants of her partner. The only similarity the two seemed to share were the matching golden rings they both wore on their right hands.

"Do you really think someone is in here, Marco?" the blond asked, her eyes still gazing around in curious innocence.

"Well according to our intel-" the boy began.

"Meaning you," his partner interrupted, giving him a teasing look.

Marco smiled and blushed slightly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I am a man of many talents." He cleared his throat, willing away his blush before continuing in a matter-of-fact tone, "Anyways, Star, I heard news that the Scarlet thief was recently spotted in this area earlier today after setting fire to a local shop..."

"Classic Janna," Star commented.

"And then the whole security grid for the museum just happens to go offline the same day," Marco continued. "A place where they are keeping one of the rarest and most priceless statues in the world, mind you. Seems just a bit too suspicious if you ask me."

Star shrugged, saying, "Makes sense to me."

"In fact, Janna is probably in here right now, so we need to stay focused and not get distracted by anything."

"Got it," Star said, doing a small salute. But as she turned her head she let out a small gasp, grabbing onto her partner's arm and squealing, "Oh my gosh, Marco. Look at that adorable painting of a kitty! I have to take a picture of it!" the girl pulled out her phone but it was quickly snatched out of her grip.

"Star," Marco scolded, pulling his arm free of his girlfriend's surprisingly strong grip. "We aren't tourists, we have a job to do, remember?"

"Okay..." the girl muttered, giving him a pouting look that caused Marco's stomach to do flips at how adorable she looked. But he held back his coo as he simply nodded and told her, "Good."

The two had only gone a few more steps before something new caught Star's eye, the girl saying, "Look Marco it's a unicorn vase, ooohhh I want one!"

"Starrrr," the boy said, gaining the girl's attention before gently reminding her, "Focus."

"Right, right," Star said, nodding, her eyebrow now furrowed in determination. "Focus, I got this."

The two continued on a few more steps only for Star to gasp in shock again, causing Marco to sigh in annoyance. "What is it now?" he asked in defeat. Star quickly pointed up at one of the large statues towering over them. A big, hulking ox looking thing with an angry expression on its stone face. "Oh my gosh, Marco that statue guy looks just like you!"

"What, that looks nothing like me?!" the boy exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips as he gave the girl an angry glare.

Star had to fight to hold in her laughter as the boy's expression and demeanor matched the statue creature perfectly, the girl barely managing to stifle her chuckle by slapping a hand over her mouth.

"I don't know, Marco, I think it's pretty spot on?" a voice said behind the pair, and Star and Marco both turned to see Janna staring down at them from the floor above, leaning against the railing with a casual ease.

"Janna," Marco growled under his breath, reaching into his jacket pocket and whipping out his stun gun. He aimed it up at the thief, shouting out, "Don't move!" Star did the same next to him, yelling up at their target, "Hands in the air!"

"Well, which is it?" Janna asked, an eyebrow slowly raising but making no sign of complying.

The two agents shared a look, their cheeks now slightly pink, before Marco said in slight annoyance, "Just stay where you are."

"Sure, no problem there," Janna said, leaning a little heavier on her arm. "I'm quite comfortable up here."

"Well hopefully you'll be just as comfortable in prison, cause that's where you're headed, Janna Ordonia," Marco commented bitterly.

Janna scoffed, shaking her head. "I see you haven't changed any, Diaz." She paused looking over at Star before asking, "So how have you been, Star?"

"Oh, I'm great," Star replied brightly.

"Hey, don't change the subject!" Marco shouted.

"What? I'm just seeing how you two have been. It's been a couple of months since the last time we hung out, after all."

"If by 'hung out' you mean you swiping my wallet and using it to buy drinks for every pub in Ireland," Marco muttered in annoyance.

"Hey, you should be thanking me, you're a local hero there, now," Janna replied.

Marco's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing more. There was never any point in fighting with Janna.

"Look, Janna," Star took over, picking up on her boyfriend's increasing annoyance. "We all know you stole something from the museum so why don't you hand it over and then we can-"

"Whoa, hang on a second!" Janna interrupted her face and voice showing interest for the first time since they had arrived as her eyes finally spotted the matching rings on the agents' hands. "Since when have you two been engaged!" She quickly picked up on the intense blush that soon coated the young couple's cheeks, as well as the quick loving look that passed between Star and Marco, before their focus returned to Janna.

"For a few weeks now..." Star admitted, clearly overjoyed to be confessing this, even if it was to their enemy.

"Unbelievable, I can't believe you two didn't tell me!" Janna scoffed out, shaking her head in disapproval.

Marco rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Maybe because it's none of your business."

"So how did it happen?" the thief asked, leaning closer to the two, her eyes shimmering with questions.

The brown-haired boy opened his mouth to remind her once again that their personal life was none of her business, only for his fiance to blurt out in an excited squeal, "Oh my gosh, it was the sweetest thing, Janna. You should have seen it. One minute we're beating up a group of VILE agents, the next Marco's down on one knee proposing!" Star let out a long sigh at the memory, putting a hand to her blushing cheek, her shoulder just barely touching her finance's side. "It was so romantic."

"So, where's the wedding going to be?" Janna asked with genuine interest.

"We decided to have it in Marco's old hometown," Star replied instantly. "Nothing too fancy, just a simple wedding with our closest friends and families. Don't want to attract too much attention, y'know."

"Staarr," Marco whispered to her in warning, trying to remind his future wife not to divulge too much information to the perceptive thief. He knew she was excited and everything but Janna was the last person he had wanted to know about their special day, considering her track record for making his life miserable every chance she got.

"Huh, sounds nice," Janna commented from above, sounding genuine and sincere, even going as far as to flash them what could almost pass for a warm smile. But Marco wasn't buying any of her act, he had been fooled by her one too many times. "So when can I expect my invite?" she added.

"Uhh, never," Marco deadpanned.

Janna gave the boy a fake hurt look, feigning ignorance as she asked, "What, why not?"

"Maybe because we don't want a common criminal hanging around during our wedding," the boy snapped, giving her an accusing glare.

"Plus, we're kinda arresting you, soooo," Star added, with an apologetic shrug. At that, the two agents held their guns up once more, their gazes hardening as they kept their focus and attention on their target.

The young thief let out a dejected sigh, sitting up and turning her back on the two but still keeping a light grip on the railing behind her. "Fine, I see how it is," she said in the saddest tone she could muster, watching out of the corner of her eye to see if they would let their guard down any.

She inwardly smirked as Star lowered her gun just an inch, her face softening in sympathy, while Marco only seemed to grow more suspicious, his eyebrows somehow furrowing more than they already were. "Look, Jan, just toss us down the briefcase and we won't have to use force," Marco said in a slow, even tone, but Janna easily caught onto the hidden threat that lay beneath.

She let out a deep sigh, before saying softly, "Whatever you say." The next few seconds went by in a flash as Janna instantly turned and jumped over the railing, now falling back to the first story. Star and Marco flinched, Janna seeing their fingers tightening on the triggers of the stun guns but before either could react fully, the girl threw the briefcase in her hands, it smacking directly into Marco's chest causing the boy to grunt in pain and surprise and crash to the floor hard. Star turned to her boyfriend in fear, Janna forgotten as she screamed out a panicked, "Marco!"

Janna, meanwhile, quickly shot out a grappling line from inside her sleeve, where it roughly attached to the ceiling. The string went taunt allowing the young thief to soar over the two agent's heads. She detached the line, tucking into a roll as she hit the ground and soon she was back on her feet once more.

Janna turned, seeing Star checking on her partner, who was more stunned than hurt and didn't even hesitate to shoot out another grapple line which latched onto the forgotten handle of the briefcase, before being zipped back over to her at record speed. Janna caught it with practiced ease, looking smugly over to the pair of agents now shooting her confused but angry glares, and she merely winked and tipped her hat toward them, saying in her typical sarcastic wit, "Thanks for holding onto that for me. But I think I'll be going now."

The thief took off at a run, knowing it would only be a few seconds before the two agents pursued her with a fiery vigor and she needed to put as much distance between her and them as possible. And just as she predicted within seconds Janna heard a loud voice shout, "Hey wait!" and she increased her speed, heading straight for the top floor of the building.

Star helped Marco to his feet before the two quickly ran after the escaping thief, the latter growling under his breath for being outsmarted again by the willy Janna. He ignored the slight heat in his cheeks, keeping his focus entirely on his target, whose head start was doing little to match his and Star's speed, quickly gaining on the girl.

The door to the roof busted open as Janna emerged, running toward the edge with Star and Marco right on her heels. Janna didn't even hesitate as she jumped off the roof, sailing flawlessly through the air before landing on the rooftop of the next building. She turned to give the two a victorious smirk before running away at top speed again.

Marco and Star, however, were far from beaten, the two racing ahead with no fear or hesitation as they too leaped off the building's side, landing on the next roof in perfect synchronization. Janna turned to see the two chasing after her again and she smiled to herself. This was just the challenge she had been hoping for.

The chase across Paris continued, Janna leaping from rooftop to rooftop, with little to no regard for her own safety, even the breakneck drop that waited below and the cold, bitter wind rushing against her face doing nothing to slow her pace. She began trying to dissuade the two agents from following as she took riskier and more dangerous jumps, knowing from experience that Marco would more than likely take the safest route available, rather than risk injury for him or his girlfriend. That boy was always too overly cautious for his own good, something Janna was hoping to use to her advantage.

But for once, Marco didn't seem to be falling back on his safe ways, keeping pace with his target as he precariously threw himself across every gap he came across. Star happily doing the same, looking like she was having the time of her life, chasing after the elusive thief with her boyfriend.

At this point, Marco's lungs and limbs were screaming at him to stop and allow them to rest. But the boy didn't listen, instead pressing them harder to continue. He was going to catch her this time, he was sure of it. And his hopes rose as he saw the row of buildings was soon coming to an end, instead opening up into a near-empty harbor, the light from the moon catching in the gentle waves and causing the water to shimmer and dazzle. That was definitely too far for even Janna to jump.

The girl seemed to notice this as she brought herself to a stop, just inches away from the edge. She turned to face the two agents, who were both huffing and puffing at this point, exhausted from the long trek over the Paris skyline. But they smiled at her with tired but victorious smirks, Star saying in a gasped breath, "Ha, looks like we win! You're trapped!"

"Just give up, Janna, there's nowhere else for you to run," Marco added, his voice low and full of finality.

"Maybe not," the girl said in a soft tone, keeping her face blank, before she smirked and added cryptically, "But maybe I don't have to." Her eyes snapped over to the waiting harbor below, before returning over to the two agents. Star and Marco gave her quizzical looks for a second before they both gasped in shock, realizing what she was saying.

"Wait, you aren't seriously going to try and jump that, are you?!" Star asked in disbelief, her eyes widening some in worry.

"No way, Star, she's just bluffing!" Marco said confidently.

"Are you sure about that?" Janna asked, taking a step closer to the edge, a gust of wind nearly knocking her hat off her head but she stood unmoving against it, bracing herself against its biting chill.

Star looked over to her boyfriend, cupping a hand around her mouth as she whispered to him, "I don't know, Marco. She seems pretty serious."

The boy agent paused, heeding his girlfriend's advice and giving his target a closer examination, taking in Janna's relaxed and almost teasing posture, her eyes showing no sign of hesitance or concern. Marco inwardly cringed, Star was right she was definitely up to something. But he didn't let it show as he again warned the girl, "You can't make that jump, Janna. Just surrender peacefully and things will go easier for you."

Janna cocked her head to the side, making a big show of thinking this over, tapping a finger against her chin in a clearly mocking manner. "Hmm, I don't know. 'Surrender' and 'peaceful' aren't exactly in my vocabulary." Keeping her gaze locked on the two agents she took a step closer to the edge, her foot now partially off the building, a wide smirk growing on her face as she added, "Besides since when have I ever taken the easy route."

Then, without another word, the girl turned and lunged forward, kicking off of the roof with all her might, sending her form flying smoothly through the air. At the same time, Marco lunged for her, hoping to catch her before she was out of reach. "Oh no you don't!" he screamed, his hand reaching out to grab onto her signature cloak. But he was just milliseconds too short, his fingers barely brushing the bright red fabric before it slipped through his fingertips, leaving him touching nothing but air... and falling quickly and precariously toward the waiting water below. Marco let out a high-pitched scream, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to somehow slow himself, before splashing into the cold moonlit harbor, a spray of water sent hurtling through the air.

Janna, however, remained as calm as ever, holding out an arm and firing off her grappling gun once again, it easily connecting to the side of a building across the stream before yanking her quickly towards it, the trained thief doing a quick flip in the air before landing expertly on the rooftop.

Star, who had watched the whole display from the safety of the nearby building, muttered to herself, "Oh right, grappling hook. Forgot she had that."

Down below, Marco surfaced, coughing and spluttering as he spat out as much water as he could from his lungs, looking shocked and bewildered from the unexpected dive. His spiked hair now lay flat and clung to his head at awkward angles, his form shuddering in the frigid temperature.

Janna looked smugly down to the young agent and then back up to Star before saying, "Well this has been fun, but I got to run." The girl then began making her way across the rooftop, walking smoothly and steadily now that she didn't have to worry about being pursued. She kept her back to them as she waved her goodbye, shouting, "Congrats on the wedding by the way! Make sure to send me some pictures."

Once the girl was out of sight, Star turned her attention back to her boyfriend, asking in concern, "Marco, you okay?"

The boy let out an exhausted sigh. "I'm fine," he said dejectedly.

"You sure?" Star questioned, not looking quite convinced. "Nothing's hurting?"

"Just my pride," the boy admitted, looking sadly off into the distance, the exact direction his target was now headed.

Star gave her fiance a sympathetic look, before adding, "You want me to go after her."

The boy shook his head, slouching forward as his face hardening into an angry scowl. "Nah, there's no point. She's probably long gone by now."

"Okay well, in that case, I'm coming down to help you," Star replied.

Marco's eyebrow raised in confusion, not quite understanding what his girlfriend was implying. "Wait, what do you mean by-" he started to ask, only to be interrupted by a loud shout above, looking up to see Star diving off the building too, letting out a cheer of excitement as she free-fell through the cold, night air.

"Wait, wait, wait, Star don't, it's too cold!" The boy shouted in warning, waving his hands wildly but it was too late as Star splashed down into the bay right next to him, sending a wave of freezing cold water into his face and leaving him spluttering once more. Star surfaced a second later, water dripping from her bangs as she giggled at her Marco's startled face.

The boy let out a few deep breaths, still in shock from being pelted with the icy cold water but soon found himself smiling too, his fiance's laugh too infectious for him to resist. And pretty soon Marco was laughing too, pressing his forehead to Star's and bringing his arms around her, the two floating on the water's surface as one. "You know we're gonna be in big trouble for not catching Janna, right?" Marco reminded Star, though it was light and warm in comparison to just a few minutes ago.

"Aww, we'll get her next time," Star reassured the boy, cupping his cold cheeks in her hands, the warmth of her fingers causing Marco's whole face to tingle. "Besides, I already know where's she heading."

"Wait, you do?" Marco gasped in surprise.

Star gave her boyfriend a quick wink, saying in a flirty tone, "You're not the only one who can gather intel, y'know." Marco continued to give his partner a disbelieving look, not that he should be too surprised. Star was amazing and when she put her mind to it, there was nothing she couldn't do.

"So where's she headed?" Marco asked curiously.

"Welllll, judging by the direction she was going I would say our Scarlet Thief is heading for the train station. It's only like a block away from here and we both know Janna is known to try and skip town the first chance she gets," Star explained, while her fiance just listened in awe. "So all we gotta do is head over there and find out which train she got on."

"How do you know that?" the boy asked, raising a playful eyebrow at his bride-to-be.

Star shrugged. "Reasons," she said vaguely.

"Like?" the boy pressed, giving her a flirty look he knew she couldn't resist.

Star blushed slightly as she replied, "Let's just say I've had my eye on this place for a while now. You may be in charge of planning the wedding, but I'm in charge of the honeymoon."

The boy instantly froze, his face turning a dark shade of red that easily surpassed the color on his tie. He definitely hadn't been expecting that answer and he had to cough into his hand to clear his tight throat, looking away from the beautiful piercing blue of his girlfriend. "Oh yeah, okay, great, that's uhhh... that's great," the boy muttered nervously, Star holding back a giggle at the embarrassed blush on her Marco's cheeks.

Instead, the blond let out a loving sigh, giving her adorable fiance's small form a quick squeeze, as she squealed out, "Aw Marco, your so cute!" But she quickly added in a determined, serious tone, "But we can flirt later! Right now we got a job to do!"

"Yeah!" Marco shouted, pumping a fist into the air, too, before the two shared a quick high five. Just as their hands connected, a motorboat sped by them, sending a wave of freezing cold water washing over them. Both of the highly trained agents froze in place, their hands still touching as Marco muttered behind chattering teeth, "But first things first, let's get out of this water before one of us freezes to death!"

"Agreed," Star replied, her form shaking in perfect sync with her boyfriend's as they both began furiously swimming for shore and hopefully some much-needed warmth.

…

Janna was able to board the train out of Paris without any complications whatsoever. Mostly due to the fact that Alfonso had purchase Janna a ticket in advance, under his partner's direction, though being sure to give the conductor a fake name since Janna was a very wanted criminal at the moment. The young hacker had shown reluctant at first towards the plan, saying that even with a fake name she could still be recognized and that it would safer to just sneak onboard. But Janna had been quick to argue, saying that Al was just being paranoid and worried too much... which he absolutely did. But despite his concerns, Alfonso had gone ahead with the purchase, making sure Miss Hanna Orlandia had a ticket out of the city.

And just as Janna had predicted, nobody paid her any mind, the conductor barely batting an eye in her direction as he just lazily punched her ticket and sent her on her way. Janna, of course, making a smug comment to Alfonso which caused the boy to groan in annoyance and accept defeat... this time.

From there it had been as simple as stashing the briefcase in one of the storage cars, making sure it was buried under a pile of luggage and wouldn't be accidentally discovered by any noisy passengers, leaving Janna free to enjoy the trip.

She slowly walked through the row of cars looking for her seat, ignoring the irregular shifting beneath her feet as the train carried forth at rapid speed, already fast on its way to her destination. "Sooo that could have gone... better," Al said in her ear, trying to lighten the mood and the girl chuckled.

"Yeah, but we did get to see the power couple so I'd call that a win," she responded, ignoring the weird looks she was getting from the few passengers that went by. "And we just got away scot-free."

"I don't know Janna," Al responded nervously. "This just seemed too easy."

Easy. Yeah for him, maybe, all he had done was sit there and give out directions, Janna was the one who had been in a hot pursuit across Paris with two of the most highly-trained secret agents in the world. "Oh relax Al," Janna replied with a roll of her eyes. He could be so over-dramatic sometimes. "We're fine."

"Yeah, Al relax," came a familiar voice through the earpiece.

"Ferguson! How long have you been up?!"

"Mmm," Ferguson hummed thoughtfully. "Probably about three minutes or so."

"Well if you're up than can you do me a favor and clean the dishes, the sink is full again and it's your turn."

"Whaaaattt nooo," Ferguson whined. "Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm busy helping Janna," Alfonso explained, sounding exasperated with the discussion already.

"Well let me help Janna and then you can do the dishes," Ferg suggested excitedly.

"No way! I'm not letting you touch my system, you don't know anything about it!" Al argued loudly.

"Aw come on how hard can it be if you do it?"

"Ferg, I said no!"

The speaker quickly filled with the sound of the two wrestling, Alfonso probably trying to push Ferguson back from his expensive and highly breakable equipment. After a few seconds of listening to the annoying grunts of them fighting, Janna pulled out her earpiece, knowing they could go on like this for a while and she was in the mood for some peace and quiet.

She reached her own reserved car, smiling softly to herself as she saw the door was already open, alerting her someone was already inside. And she had a pretty good idea who.

And the moment she stepped inside her smirk widened as her suspicions were proven correct, he was there. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms stretched out on the back of his seat trying to look as casual as possible. His hair was spiked just like she had remembered it and the familiar pink color made Janna inwardly chuckle. He wore a bright red shirt with a star on the front and a long black leather jacket, black gloves with the fingers torn off, and black jeans. His shoes were his typical orange boots. In short, Tom Lucitor looked as great as ever.

He gave her a devilish grin, saying in a smooth tone, "Thought you'd show up, took you long enough, though."

Janna put a hand to her hip and said in the teasing tone she reserved only for her greatest rival, "Aw, Pinkie what a surprise."

The boy's calm demeanor shattered as he growled at the hated nickname. "I told you my hair is salmon!"

"Mmm yeah I'm still gonna call you Pinkie," Janna replied with a shrug, taking the seat across from him.

Tom groaned, crossing his arms in a pouting gesture. "Yep your still as intolerable as ever," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"And your still as angry as ever," the girl replied, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs and resting her hands behind her head. "So what brings you to Paris, the City of Love, don't tell me you've gone all sappy and turned into a romantic."

"You know me better than that, Jan," Tom replied, flashing her a cocky grin. He leaned forward a bit, before saying in a knowing tone, "And I think you already know why I'm here."

Janna smiled. "Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it."

Tom's gaze narrowed slightly before he began in a threatening tone, "I want you-"

"You want me?" Janna interrupted with a mock look of surprise. "Well looks like you are turning into a romantic."

Tom growled angrily under his breath as he spat out through clenched teeth, "I want you to give me the statue."

"What statue?" Janna asked, feigning ignorance.

Tom just rolled his eyes before snapping, "The Golden Dancer! The one you stole from the museum."

"What makes you think I stole anything?" Janna asked, her cryptic tone never ceasing and the smile on her face told Tom that she was very much enjoying herself, much to his annoyance. "Can't a girl visit Paris without having some ulterior motive?"

"Yes, but you're not most girls," Tom stated simply, and for the first time since she had gotten there Janna's cheeks got the slightest tinge of pink.

"Aww, you flatter me, Tom," Janna cooed coyly, winking at him.

"That wasn't a compliment," Tom stated, trying to hide the joy he felt at making her blush. She was so cute when she was blushing, it almost made him forgive how aggravating she could be.

"Yes, it was," Janna said calling his bluff, and Tom felt his cheeks heat up again against his will, growling to try and hide his embarrassment.

Almost. He almost forgave her. But something told him, she wanted it this way, which was why being around her was so frustrating. She always knew just what to say to set him off. "Look are you gonna give me the statue or do I have to make you," he threatened, wanting to just get to the point and get this whole confrontation over with before he was reminded anymore how much he had missed her. His hand slowly moved to his pocket, making sure his movements were subtle enough she didn't pick up on them.

"Hmmm," she hummed, tapping a finger to her chin, clearly thinking it over or at least pretending to. "Yeah no, I don't think so. I stole it fair and square. You want it so bad you should have stolen it yourself." Tom smirked. "Why would I do that, when I got you?" He leaned forward, his malicious grin widening with every word, looking proud of himself for conning the elusive thief. "I followed you all the way, here, y'know. And I didn't even have to try to find you, you made your presence well known. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were slipping Janna." His hand now grasped the electric stun baton from within the confines of his pocket, ready to draw it out and use it to knock his annoying rival out cold. But then Janna did something unexpected, she leaned in closer to him, freezing the boy in place as his heart began hammering in his chest. Soon their faces were just inches apart, Tom looking deep into Janna's brown gaze, a soft, almost sincere look on her face and he wondered if she was actually opening up to him for once. Her fingers began tracing lines on his shirt as she softly whispered, "Or maybe I wanted you to find me."

Tom tried not to shudder as her warm breath tickled his skin. Her lips were so close now, challenging him, teasing him to move in, but no matter how much he wanted to (oh man did he want to) he knew better than to let his guard down around her. "Wh-Why would you do that?" He asked, trying to hide the squeak in his voice.

And then Janna moved in even closer until her lips were almost touching his as she said in the most honest and sincere tone he had ever heard come from her lips, "Cause I missed you, Tom."

The boy gulped but found himself actually moving in for the kiss, all ulterior motives, all scheme, all logic thrown out the window as he attempted to capture that which he had never yet been able to steal: Janna's affection.

But just before their lips brushed, Tom felt a stinging sensation in his side, which then turned into a powerful burning. He let out a yelp of pain as he looked down, only to see Janna had snatched the baton from his pocket and had it pressed into his side, electrocuting him.

"Sorry, Pinkie," he heard Janna say to him in an apologetic tone, but it was distant and fuzzy as his brain began to shut down. "But you know the first rule of dealing with a thief. Never let them get too close."

Tom let out one last growl of annoyance before he lost consciousness, falling back against his seat, asleep.

Janna pulled the device away the second she saw the boy's eyes close and quickly pocketed the device. It was very nicely made, she might have some use for it in the future. For a few seconds, she just stared at his sleeping face, looking so cute and peaceful you couldn't even tell that beneath lie a hotheaded, temperamental thief. He was too much fun to tease when awake, but asleep he was irresistible. Which was why she couldn't help but lean over and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, letting her armor crack for a second as she whispered to his sleeping form, "See you around, Tom."

She stood, stepping back out into the hallway, giving him one last longing look over her shoulder before closing the door to the train car sealing the sleeping teen inside.

Once she had put some distance between her and her unconscious rival, she slipped her earpiece back on, saying smoothly, "Hey Al, what'd I miss?"

"Janna?!" Came the worried, expected shriek of her friend. It was clear he had been panicking for a while now. "What happened? I lost contact with you. Did something go wrong?"

"Nah, not really," the girl lied instantly. "Must have just had a bad signal there for a while."

"Well that's a relief," Alfonso said with a sigh. "For a minute there I was afraid you ran into that hot-headed rival of yours. That would have been a total disaster."

"Wellllll, actually," the girl said in a purposely overly hesitant way.

Alfonso let out a long sigh. "Spoke too soon," he muttered under his breath.

...

The train pulled into the station an hour later, a crowd of passengers emerging from the train in a hurry, eager to stretch their legs after the long trip. And hiding in plain sight, the thief in red whistled as she strode along, an almost skip in her step as she carried the large briefcase loosely at her side. She made her way to the dock, where a large boat waited for her, giving the captain a wink as she boarded, letting him know it was her and he nodded to tell her he understood. He said something over to one of the crew who ran off to inform them now they were good to go. Not even a minute later the ship was already plowing it's way out of the harbor and heading toward open ocean.

The captain went over to greet her, saying pleasantly enough, "Miss Ordonia, glad to see you made it." His gaze slowly lowered to the briefcase, eying it greedily for a second. "And by the looks of it, your heist was a success."

"Captain Carrots, a pleasure as always," Janna said with a smile. "I trust my colleague already paid you in full."

"Aye yes, your friend already sent us the cash."

"And did he give you my instructions?"

The captain nodded. "Aye, he did."

"Good, then since you know our destination, I'll leave the rest to you," Janna said, going to walk around him but he stepped into her way, blocking her path off.

"Why don't you let me take that off your hands," the captain offered slowly reaching down to grab the briefcase, Janna hearing the greed and desperation in his voice. "Me and my crew will make sure it reaches its buyer safely."

Janna quickly bat his hand away and positioned her body so the briefcase was no longer in his line of sight, wagging a scolding finger at him while clicking her tongue in disappointment. "Nice try, Captain, but I wasn't born yesterday," she said with a smirk, the captain gritting his teeth at her. "And I was given strict instructions by my employer to deliver the statue myself and to make sure I personally handed it over to him. But if you'd like I'd be happy to call and let him know-" Janna made a show of reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.

"No!" The captain shouted, putting a hand up to try and stop her. Janna gave him a knowing smile as he cleared his throat, continuing much softer, "No that won't be necessary." He plastered on a forced smile that was just priceless to the young thief who was enjoying every second of this, though she made sure not to let it show... not too much at least.

"Good," Janna said, slipping the phone back in her pocket, the superior grin never leaving her face. "Then I'll leave you to your job and you can leave me to mine."

The young thief then pushed her way past the man, leaving the fuming captain alone to rage as she found a seat near the back of the boat, her back literally against the rail that prevented her from falling into the crystal clear waters below her. The second she sat down she felt a lurch as the boat propelled forward at an even faster speed now that they had reached deeper waters, quickly on it's way to Janna's next destination. The girl set the package down at her side, before letting out a relaxed sigh, leaning back in her seat, feeling the cool breeze of the ocean washing over her as she stared out at the picturesque ocean waves for a second.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Alfonso said in her ear.

"What messing with the captain, of course, I did?" The girl admitted, no shame in her tone. "He was trying to con me, so I just let him know who he was dealing with."

"You know, you wouldn't have to do that if you let me hire a law-abiding citizen instead of a dirty, crooked conman."

"Wheres the fun in that? Besides haven't you ever heard the phrase 'honor among thieves'."

"Yes, but the more time I spend with you the more convinced I am that it's a bunch of nonsense," Al deadpanned.

Janna chuckled at that, before saying, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"I know."

Alfonso sighed and she heard the distinct sound of the young genius banging his head against his desk (it wasn't the first time one of their conversations had ended that way and the thief was slightly curious if there was an indent in his desk from how many times he had done it). Janna decided to show a little mercy for her friend and change the subject, saying, "Oh relax, Al. Look on the bright side, we got the painting with minimal damage, got to see our favorite power couple, and even managed to get away from Tom unscathed. Sounds like a pretty successful mission to me."

"Yeah," Alfonso agreed halfheartedly. "Guess there is that. Let's just hope we threw that hothead off our track for a while."

Janna smiled thoughtfully to herself, bringing up the mental image of the handsome thief into her mind. "I don't know, something tells me we'll be seeing him again very soon," she replied, unable to resist adding a knowing edge to her tone that the young hacker picked up on instantly.

"Janna, what did you do?" He asked in exasperation, hoping she hadn't done what he feared she had done. Knowing her, it was entirely likely.

Janna didn't reply, just smiling smugly to herself as she stared across the waves at the fading sunset on the horizon, wondering what the next day would bring her, while her head spun with the image of gorgeous red eyes.

…

Tom was furious the moment he had woken up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth, feeling a bizarre mixture of regret, disappointment, and rage. But mostly rage. And all of it was directed at one soul individual. Stupid Janna! He couldn't believe he had actually fallen for such an obvious trick and he silently cursed himself for actually letting her get too close.

And now here he was, storming through the nearly empty train with a sour scowl on his face. He ignored the few passengers remaining, wanting to just leave without any further complications. Not that he was worried about getting caught since he had swiped a ticket out of some unfortunate soul's pocket when he snuck onboard, he just didn't want to be bothered until he got the chance to cool down. He wasn't sure where he was at this point since he had no clue how much time had passed while he was unconscious, for all he knew he could be in another country, for crying out loud!

Stupid Janna! This was all her fault. If she hadn't tried to-

Tom growled as his cheeks lit up with a blush, willing them back to their normal hue. How could he have been so stupid! He should have known better than to try and actually do that with her. Of course, it was a trick, ugh, how could he be such a moron?!

Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks as he spotted a pair up ahead, his heart leaping into his throat as he recognized the well-dressed couple, the boy holding a picture out toward the train conductor while his blond partner practically lay up against him as she stared over his shoulder, these two clearly having no sense of personal space with each other.

Great, Star and Marco were here, as if he didn't have enough to deal with, now he had the two best agents in Acme on his tail and he doubted they'd be all that happy to see him once again. Tom didn't waste any time as he quickly ducked into the empty train car beside him, knowing they were sure to recognize him the moment they spotted him his few run-ins with them memorable enough for him to leave a lasting impression and make him weary from encountering them again. He left the door open only a crack as he listened to the two's conversation while cursing whatever force had decided to give him this string of bad luck.

"Please look closely, sir. Are you certain you haven't seen her, it's very important," Marco asked the conductor, his voice friendly but professional as he pressed the man for more info.

"Hmmm, now that I'm looking at it, I do think I've seen her before, pretty sure she was sharing a car with a young man, I'll go check the books, see if I can find out which car it was," the conductor said, Tom listening as a pair of footsteps faded off into the distance.

Perfect, just perfect, Tom silently groaned. Now those two knew about him! Hopefully, they wouldn't put two and two together-

"Sooo Janna was with a young man, huh? Are you thinking who I'm thinking?" Star said in a knowing tone and Tom winced. Never mind.

"What, Tom?" Marco asked, sounding like he was deep in contemplation. "It could be, but that's a pretty big conclusion to draw Star."

Star scoffed loudly, Tom hearing a light smack (probably the girl lightly tapping her partner's shoulder). "Come on, Marco. It makes total sense. Think about it, those two are always hanging around each other..." Well, she wasn't entirely wrong. "... and you know they can barely keep their eyes off each other." Again, it was true, just not for the reason the blond agent seemed to be drawing.

"So what you think their partners?"

"Well that and also secretly dating," Star added, sounding so proud of herself for figuring it out.

Tom nearly fainted right there, his cheeks filling with so much blood he nearly passed out from blood loss in the rest of his limbs. How could they seriously think he would have any feelings toward his annoying rival other than disgust. But his mind betrayed him, momentarily flashing back to Janna's form slowly moving in for what seemed to be a loving kiss and he vigorously shook his head to relieve himself from the memory, willing down his now racing pulse.

"Dating?" Marco said skeptically. "I mean I guess it's possible..."

"Of course it is!" Star said confidently. "Those two are crazy about each other." She paused before adding in a sappy, loving coo, "Almost as crazy as I am for you."

"Well I don't think anybody could be more in love than I am with you, Star," Marco replied in an equally flirty tone. Tom tried not to gag at the young couple's overly affectionate ways. Could these two be any cheesier?

"Aww Marco, you are too sweet!" Star squealed. She sounded more like a lovesick teenager than a highly trained agent.

The boy let out a long, disheartened sigh as he muttered, "But y'know, I still can't believe I fell for her tricks again!"

Marco face-palmed, flushing in embarrassment as the previous events of the night came back to him, looping through his head and making him feel more and more ridiculous with every cycle. "Why is Janna always one step ahead of us! Every time I think about what happened, I just feel like an idiot." He buried his head in his hands with an audible groan, while out of sight of the two Tom was nodding in agreement and annoyance. He could totally relate.

Star gave her boyfriend a sympathetic look, seeing just how badly he needed cheering up. Luckily, the blond knew just what to do to help. She gave Marco a flirty grin, grabbing onto his tie and lightly pulling him towards her, causing the boy to let out a startled squeak, their faces now mere inches from touching. "Well, I think I know a way to get your mind off of that," she whispered coyly, causing a shudder to jump up Marco's spine.

"Starrr," Marco muttered in embarrassment, his eyes jumping around the empty train car, making sure they were, in fact, alone. "This isn't a good time, we're on a mission, remember? What if someone sees us?"

But Star didn't seem to be giving up, simply replying seductively, "Let em look. I've been waiting to kiss my future husband all day and I'm not waiting any longer." With that, Star moved in for the kill, her fiance's lips about to be captured and claimed by her once more.

Meanwhile, the disgusted Tom was busy debating on either staying quiet or slamming the door open and turning himself in (both of which had some major cons) when the voice of the conductor suddenly cut into the moment, much to Tom's relief, saying pleasantly to the two agents, "Okay I think I found it."

Tom could hear a small shout from the two, followed by noisy shuffling as they obviously pulled apart from each other. The thief could hear a loud cough from Marco (probably trying to clear his tight throat) as he said in a forced, formal tone, "Uhh, good. T-That's excellent news, sir."

There was a pause before the conductor asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" the young couple shouted much to quickly and Tom couldn't help but smirk from his hiding spot. Geez, why were they acting all embarrassed? Weren't they about to be married or whatever? "Anyways, what'd you find out?" Marco asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Well according to the record, someone with your description purchased a ticket in advance under the name of Hanna Orlandia," the conductor explained.

Star scoffed loudly, saying in a disappointed tone, "Really, that's the name she went with? Come on, Janna you're more clever than that."

"Star, don't compliment our criminal," Marco scolded.

"I'm just saying, that's kinda a lazy fake name," Star said, defensively.

"Oh yeah, and what would your fake name have been?" Marco asked his girlfriend in a playful tone.

"I don't know maybe something cool like Carmen or something."

"Ummmm, did you want me to go on or-" the conductor asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah, right," Marco said in realization. "Continue."

"Well, she was staying in train car 15 along with a young man with pink hair." Tom had to suppress the growl he felt rising in his throat. It was salmon, not pink? Why did nobody ever get that?!

"Ah hah!" Star exclaimed in victory. "Told you it was Tom!"

"Yeah, guess you were right. I mean, i don't really know too many guys with pink hair," Marco replied in agreement. Salmon!

"Can you take us to their car? Maybe they left behind a clue or something," Star asked, the conductor immediately complying, saying, "Right this way."

Tom listened intensely as the sound of footsteps retreated deeper into the train, fading into the distance, along with Star's long rant to her boyfriend about how he and Janna were clearly dating and working together (which he did his best to ignore). He waited until they were completely out of earshot before pulling the door to the train car open, doing a quick check left and right before smirking and making his way over to the exit.

Once he was outside on the narrow streets of some unknown city, he picked a random direction and started walking, needing to put as much distance between himself and the two agents as he could. That had been a close one, much closer than Tom liked, but at least he hadn't had to deal with Star and Marco directly. He still had bruises from their last encounter, those two packing a big punch despite their appearance... especially when working as a team. No, as annoying and inconvenient as it had been, it could still have turned out much worse for him.

Sure they knew he had been there, but they wouldn't find anything. That much he was sure of since he had made sure to leave nothing behind that could be used to track him, despite the blinding rage he had felt after-

Tom let out a low growl as the memory of earlier entered his mind, anger filling his chest once again. Right, he had almost forgotten about stupid Janna and her stupid tricks. Why had he even followed her there in the first place? Hadn't he learned by now to steer clear of Janna and her obnoxious, charming ways? All she ever did was make trouble for him. What had he been thinking?

The boy roughly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to ignore the obvious answer that kept popping into his mind, refusing to admit just how badly he had wanted to see her again. He paused though, as his fingers brushed up against something. Tom came to an immediate stop as he dug around in his pocket, his fingers tightening around what felt like some sort of ticket or something before pulling out a small slip of paper. Tom stared at it stunned for a moment, knowing instantly who it was from. There was only one person who could have slipped this into his pocket without him knowing, presumably when he was unconscious. Finally, after a few more seconds, he slowly unfolded the note, confusion pinching his eyebrows as he read the soft, delicate handwriting, his heart thumping once against his will. Can't wait for our next date. See you in Venice, Pinkie. -Love, the Scarlet Thief

For a few moments, all Tom could do was read and re-read the note over and over again, his cheeks pooling with more and more blood every time his eyes crossed the words 'Pinkie' or 'Love'. Finally, after several minutes of contemplation, Tom silently folded the note back up, slipping it back into his pocket.

He just stood there for another moment, letting the words sink in, his gaze slowly turning to the rising sun over on the horizon, its bright colors seeming to be a perfect representation of his heart right now. Glowing.

And then Tom did something he almost never did, he let all his barriers drop, allowing himself a long, warm smile. But this was not just any smile, this was the widest, goofiest, most lovestruck smile that had ever crossed his features, one only those who were hopelessly and passionately in love could conceive. And despite how annoying and obnoxious and difficult Janna Ordonia the Scarlet Thief could be... Tom would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to know he would be seeing her again very soon.

Hope you enjoyed! Jantom is impossible for me to resist and I had to put in my daily dose of Starco or it just wouldn't feel right to me. So I might continue this someday in the future but for now I'm keeping it as a one-shot. I just don't have enough time at the moment to make more (plus I don't really have any more ideas for heists or whatever) but if you want you are welcome to send me ideas for it in case I ever do continue. Like I said no promises.

Anyways that'll do it for me, hope you have a great week and stay safe and healthy! Stay awesome, Stardom! Especially all you Jantom shippers out there ;)

[infinite-hearts-333]

Broken pack, Broken wolf

Sander sides, Analogical (Eventually), Logan Angst, Werewolf AU

WARNING: really bad writing, angsty, lack of sleep and starvation, swearing I'll add to this

Before

Part 3- Enter Anxiety

First couple of days were.... Interesting, but soon enough, things fell into a nice steady rhythm once more. Get up (Whether he was awake already or not), get changed- if he found the energy to wear his fluffy unicorn onesie to bed, put on foundation to hide his bags, eat breakfast with Roman and Patton, retire to his room for the rest of the day until he became exhausted and go to bed, repeat. It took three weeks for his stomach to get used to this new intake of food, and it took five days for Logan to be able to hold his breakfast down. He never came out for dinner, always far too full to eat anything else without being sick.

He, after a few trials and errors, found that the other sides awoke at a certain time, so he edited his morning a little so he was the first awake, around seven thirty, so he could read for a bit while he waited. It also helped since when Logan was tired his ears and tail enjoyed popping out for no reason, plus it was nice to sit comfortably with a cup of coffee (his new goddess/god, sorry Artemis) and read in blissful quietness until Patton woke up and began cooking.

Okay, truth time. Logan hated change. He liked following a routine and instructions, in fact, not that he liked to admit it, it took him three days to convince himself to exit his room and meet the others. So it was understandable that he had a hard time getting use to anything new. Like his current situation.

There was a person. Sitting on the counter. Logan blinked, and shuffled quietly, wondering if he should leave and wait for Patton to wake up. The man reminded Logan of Empero, when she had just woken up after staying on guard for nearly half the night, sitting cross-legged on the bench, leaning over a cup of steaming coffee that he was cradling in his hands. His eyes were half-lidded, boring holes into the cupboard from under his purple tinted hair that covered his eyes. He had eyeshadow under his eyes, skinny ripped jeans and a grey sleeve and black hoodie.

After a few nervous moments, the man noticed Logan standing awkwardly in the hallway door, wrinkled up his nose, and hissed. Logan, in reflex, growled back making the man's eyes widened slightly, and dipped his head. Logan became even more confused, for he wasn't sure if the man was human, if he was, what dipping the head may of ment in human body language. He couldn't pick up on any werewolf scent, sadly, but he took the man's head dip as a sign of submission, and quickly stalked across the room to select his galaxy cup and began making coffee for himself.

Logan didn't speak, clicking buttons to make his coffee, and went over to the fridge to collect the milk and the toast, and then to the cupboard to collect a type of jam called crofters which Logan enjoyed quite a bit. He poured the milk into his coffee, and placed two pieces of toast in the toaster. He paused, and then turned to the new side still sitting on the counter. "You..... do you want some toast?" He asked softly, completely turning around. The male narrowed his eyes, taking a long sip from his coffee and then fiddled with his sleeves.

"Yes.. please." he said, equally as quiet. Logan softly smiled. He was just nervous, like Logan was when he first met the others. Logan was determined to make this side feel welcomed, and not have to take time to realise by himself it was safe, like Logan had to. He turned back to the toaster, and once the toast popped, he collected it taking it and some butter and jam, over to the other side with a small smile. He placed it next to him. "There you go. Did you just manifester? Also I should warn that there are two more sides, and both of them are quite loud."

"N-no... I'm from somewhere else... and thanks, good to know." the side gave Logan a small smile back, carefully taking the plate. "Well I'm logan. Do you have a name or something I could call you by?" the man paused, swallowing and staring at the toast. "Anxiety." he said in a bare whisper. "Very well Anxiety." Logan said, turning back to work on his own food, before pausing. "Um, do you mind... if i join you?" Logan asked.

"Y-yer! Sure, h-here let me." Anxiety shuffled around, scooting over and giving Logan some room. Logan smiled, hopping up onto the bench. The two ate in peaceful silence, the only noises in the kitchen were the soft tapping of Anxiety's fingers, clinking of cups being placed down and crunching of the toast. It was nice, calming, and Logan thought he wouldn't mind this change. Both Logan and Anxiety could hear Patton running down the stairs, and Anxiety quickly excused himself, and vanished. Logan's eyes slightly widened, but he couldn't question it, given the side was no longer there.

Anxiety's existence was, well... interesting. The anxious trait was a little all over the show, switching from shy and nervous, softly mumbling questions and answers, to cocky and snarky, capable of bruising roman's ego six times over. He seemed to tolerate Patton, because well, who couldn't? He was nice to everyone. Anxiety slowly appeared in the mornings as well, randomly, not that logan minded. He never stuck around long enough to be caught by Roman and Patton, and since Logan was the only one awake at the hour, he assumed that Anxiety had grown to like him.

Which was... nice, he guessed. The two would trade questions and ideas, theories and knowledge, and occasionally, Logan would bring a book and read it to the darkly dressed side. Eventually, anxiety started to open up about their own likes, and started to strike different conversations than Logan always starting the conversations and asking questions or bringing up topics. Anxiety seemed to always be very interested in things like 'SCP's' or 'cryptids' which then logan spend the rest of the day researching about because, 1) if they were real, Logan was very concerned, and 2) and there is nO WAY THAT AN ORANGE BLOB IS CAPABLE OF HUMAN THOUGHT. (That's SCP- 999 for you Logan-)

Quick visit to google moved they were both very, very fictional, thank Artemis.

Once virgil even brought something of his own to logan. "It's.... a tiny laptop?" Quizzed logan, blinking down at the small rectangular object in Anxiety's hands. "Pfft- no. It's a phone, you dork. I thought logic knew everything?" Logan went red in embarrassment.

"Falsehood. I don't know everything, even as Logic. Our.... past lives affect our knowledge, thoughts and beliefs." Logan hesitated for a second before bringing up the term 'past lives' for apparently he wasn't the only one with a rough past. Virgil tensed, before forcing himself to relax, patting his spot next to him. Logan hopped up with the plate of toast placing it in between them. "So.. it's called a phone? What does it do?" Logan asked quietly.

"It's like a laptop i guess. You kinda do whatever you want with it, you could get games, it lets you communicate from long distances, a lot of stuff." Anxiety said, semi leaning back. Logan made a small noise of approval. "It's kind of, not kinda. And interesting. And what does this have to do with books?" Logan asked, tilting his head. Anxiety rolled his eyes at the correction, but smirked, holding up the phone. "I have something called a audio book. It's where someone records them reading a book out loud and you can listen to it." Logan visibly perked at that.

"Really? That's... quite impressive." he stared intensely down at the phone. Anxiety scoffed. "Whatever ya say teach. Do you remember when I told you about nightvale?" he said, beginning to nervously fiddle with his sleeves, a sign Logan picked as him being unsure. "You not ya, and yes i do recall that. It sounds.... Quite peculiar." Logan hummed, remember that morning ended up being a debate about the purposes of a dog park that no one was allowed in.

"Well..." Anxiety said in an even quieter voice. "It's a podcast... and i was wondering if you would like to listen to it with me. I'll start from the beginning if you want! And it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought it would be nice, since you're always bringing something, and I didn't want to only take and not give something back-'' Anxiety began to rant, and Logan softly chuckled. "Anxiety." Logan said, snapping the others attention from their rant. "I would love to." Logan continued, allowing a small smile.

Anxiety blinked, once, twice, and then began fumbling furiously with a bunch of cables. "Right! Right, right, right..." He softly cursed under his breath as he found his cables in a knot, but Logan waited patiently, picking up one of the pieces of toast and taking a bite out of it. Once Anxiety undid the knot, he passed a single bud to logan, and stuffed the other in his ear. "Put this in your ear. It makes it so only we can hear the audio book and no one else." Virgil explained, giving logan a slight weak smile. Logan returned a reassuring smile, taking the bud and carefully placing it in his ear- thankfully, human ears appeared whenever he hid his wolf ears.

He tried to ignore the warnings flashing in the back of his head, saying that humans are dangerous, and readjusted the bud so it sat comfortably. Virgil fiddled with his phone, clicking on the smooth black screen. The next thing Logan knew someone was talking, crisp and clear in his ear, followed by weird nice non-talking noises. Logan flinched, shocked and confused and Anxiety softly chuckled. "Easy there, it's okay. This is the podcast." He hummed along with the odd melody.

"What's that noise?" Logan asked, straining his ears to listen carefully. "Behind the voice? It's not talking... what is it?" Anxiety blinked, trying to figure out what Logan was talking about. "Do you mean... music?" "Music?" Logan echoed, testing the word out. "Yer, it's the thing in the background, it sounds like.." Anxiety paused, and then hummed a couple of the notes. Logan stared curiously, humming a couple of his own notes. "Yes, that." Logan clarified. "That's music. People write a lot of music in my past life, called songs. You can get songs like this, where there are no lyrics- lyrics are words that people put in the songs, or with lyrics. If you want, i could put on a couple songs after this." Anxiety offered.

Logan hummed and nodded, focusing on the voice that had started talking. After a few minutes, Logan wrinkled his nose, turning to look at a grinning Anxiety. "The glow cloud?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "All hail the glow cloud!" Chirped Anxiety, giggling and grinning. "You do realise that a glowing cloud that rains dead animals is ridiculous and illogical, right?" Logan asked, taking another bite of his toast. Anxiety rolled his eyes and snorted, smirking. "Well i find it ridiculous and illogical that you didn't know what a phone or music was." "Touche." hummed logan, closing one eye and then froze when something warm pushed against his back.

He turned his head a bit only to find Anxiety was leaning against Logan's back, eyes closed with a small content smile as we listened to the pod cast. Logan inhaled and softly smiled, leaning back as well, taking in the warmth from the other, treasuring this moment that was sickly alike back when he was with his pack. But in the presence of Anxiety, Logan couldn't find the ability to be sad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next

[rainbowdonkee]

With 2019 coming to an end, I wanted to make a list of my personal top 10 video games that came out this decade. I was 12 in 2010, and now being 21 video games have always been important to me! Many of the games that are the most dearest to me sadly came out before 2010 (HG/SS barely made the cut with the NA release). I tried to not make recent releases be part of my bias (FE3H lol), plus there were many games such as Bioshock 2, Fallout New Vegas, DA2, ACNL, and many more that I love but this list would have been too long! 

1. Dark Souls (2011)

2. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017)

3. Pokemon HeartGold/SoulSilver (NA 2010)

4. NieR Automata (2017)

5. Final Fantasy XV (2016)

6. Bloodborne (2015)

7. Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (2017)

8. Astral Chain (2019)

9. Granblue Fantasy (2014)

10. Deemo (2013)

Dark Souls: Although I haven’t really completed the game personally, I’ve seen many playthroughs and videos about the story and characters. Hidetaka Miyazaki is absolutely awesome in creating those fantasy worlds and characters, everything that Dark Souls ended up influencing was pretty groundbreaking. And the OST is always enjoyable to hear again.

Breath of the Wild: This game took quite a long time for Nintendo to release, and when it finally came out on the final year of the WiiU and the birth of the Switch... it was pretty emotional. Also to realize that Iwata-san never made it to see the rise of Nintendo’s success after the failure of the WiiU gets me everytime, but I hope he sees all the smiles and joy BOTW has brought since its release. The game changed not only what is a LOTZ game but what is an open world, I’ve played it twice and each time I picked it up was a new experience.

Pokemon HG/SS: This game was released around Fall 2009 in Japan, but for NA it was out in March 2010. I still remember the anticipation for Spring Break to arrive in order to spend all my week playing it! I never had the chance to play the original Gold/Silver, so everything was new to me. My 12 year old mind almost exploded when I ended up finishing the Johto League only to find out we were ALSO traveling to Kanto!!! I was shook! This game is amazing, and I’ll forever wait for them to somehow add our Pokemons following us around, that mechanic was so cute! And of course the OST is golden, and I can always listen to it and be brought back to those days.

NieR Automata: I never played any of the past NieR games (although I was aware of their existence). The first trailer I ever watched had the “Become as Gods” song so I was hooked from the start! And learning that PlatinumGames and Square Enix both developed the game made me hyped for its release. I love everything about it, the characters, story, music, themes. By the time I finished the game, it had brought me into a journey of questioning so many heavy topics about life...I really wasn’t expecting that about a game. Not going to lie it may or may not have brought me a mini existential crisis but with a game made my Yoko Taro can’t be too surprised.

Final Fantasy XV: The game I so often heard fabled tales since as back as 2009 and the hype was just building up for this game! I remember going to the movie theater when they were having special screenings for the Kingsglaive movie (I dragged my friend, little brother, and mom lol). The game went through so much, many cuts and changes were made but I personally ended up liking what we got. Still super sad that many unreleased DLC’s were cut off, but the love I have for the characters and music will always stay.

Bloodborne: Hey another Miyazaki game, what can you say...the man just makes brilliant games. He took everything I love about gothic, victorian era, and Lovecraftian esque and made this extraordinary game. I’m here hoping that maybe this 2020 we can hear a slither of news of Bloodborne 2, the theme for this game is too good for them to leave it as only one game.

Fire Emblem Echoes SoV: After the train wreck that was Fates, I literally was not expecting for us to get another FE title so soon! Japan waited 2 years for Echoes but thanks to localization giving us Fates in 2016, we got SoV a year later. I never heard of Fire Emblem Gaiden, before this game I never played any of the Japan only FE games, so when news was coming out about this title I tried 100% to AVOID it. Why? Because this was the first time I could start a FE game without personally knowing anything about it, and when I first played it, right from the start it felt so different, it didn’t felt like a Fire Emblem game (which isn’t bad at all). With the new art direction it also felt like a whole new world, I love Hidari and I hope we get to see them more in future FE games. The game had a simple plot which I didn’t held it against them, I knew this was a remake, and personally I’m glad they didn’t added things like an Avatar or S-Supports. They stayed true to its original source, and SoV will stay as my personal favorite FE game. Also Heritors of Arcadia will be the best vocal theme we got in FE series.

Astral Chain: Oh snap another PlatinumGames IP? This developers are just too good! Astral Chain came out of nowhere although I’ve heard it was worked on for a long time, supposedly even before NieR Automata was developed. I really enjoyed the game very much, from all the 2019 games that came out it caught my eye and I went in with not too many expectations but I had a good time. The story took a crazy turn and I could see some similar themes as NieR Automata but it held its own ground to become unique. The fighting mechanics were so much fun to play and the music was also awesome! I wish more people talked about this game since it is Nintendo’s new IP. I hope we can get the twins for Smash Ultimate!

Granblue Fantasy: I first new anything about Cygames back in 2016 when I saw the OP for Rage of Bahamut. After Seeing the OP for season 2, seeing Azazel in all his glory I knew I had to watch the anime! Luckilly Rage of Bahamut season 2 was continuing in 2017 so I was able to catch up just in time for its final 10 episodes. I LOVE Azazel and Kaisar and of course ROB Lucifer! Then to my surprise I found out about GBF, and I was dumb and thought the app was unavailable in the west which is technically true since you need a Japanese account to download the app which has an ENG text option. So it wasn’t until 2018 that I downloaded the game and started my journey through the sky. This gacha game literally changed what is a gacha game to me, the developers listen to fans, the community is fun, and just everything about this franchise is so great. I’m not a hardcore player so I’m not too worry about grids, I’m here for the cute husbands. (Lancelot, Sandalphon, Albert, Grimnir I lov u).

Deemo: I love this game, one of the best app games I’ve ever had. Back in the day I used to play TapTap Revenge and that was my first taste of rhythm games, Deemo brought me back to those types of apps. Whenever I was anxious I could always play this game and pass the time while keeping my mind busy. Plus without Deemo I would have never known artist’s such as Mili. The game is on the Switch which I’m so happy because I was able to just get all the songs without flooding my tablets storage space.

[slutsofren]

Magical Mysteries

Summary:  Hogwarts, 1978: Ben Solo and you are the best of friends, his mother is the Minister for Magic which puts a large target on his back being the wizarding community's supposed Golden Child and the leading example for fellow witches and wizards. Being his only friend has also led you to be ostracised with him. His life has been threatened repeatedly and you stayed beside him. But, this story isn't just about him being targeted by others, it's also the tale of either your illustrious fall with him to the darker side of magic, or your own saving grace to leave him to his virtues.

Read it on AO3 here: Prologue: Trust

im so sorry for everybody who was waiting on me, things got a little crazy the past week or so at home and it put me off of writing and editing- im doing this by myself and just kind of needed a Break. i think i should be back on to weekly posting now <3

Six years had passed since you first walked into the Great Hall. Six years since you met Ben Organa-Solo. In all that time both you and Ben had changed so much physically. Where he grew much taller and broader over the years, developing into the strong young man you knew he was, you changed in ways that only accentuated your humbled attractiveness. 

You let your hair grow longer and longer each year, as did Ben when he could afford to, it was the 1970s afterall, by now your hair was long enough to reach your waist. A true accomplishment since you constantly fussed with it. Eventually it settled down a lot when Ben began braiding your hair from time to time. It was a comforting task for the two of you.

The best thing that changed for you both was your developments as magical people. Your strengths in herbology and potions were only rivaled by Ben. He was also well accomplished in potions as well due to a certain tutor you both shared, but he soared in charms and astronomy. Although your studies were close to perfection, everything else was not.

Your first year was as difficult you could have possibly imagined but you were forever grateful for having Ben with you. When you arrived with little to nothing but your full-blood Kneazle, something you’d deny your cat ever was, you felt overwhelmingly unprepared in comparison to the other students.

Ben had been gracious enough to help conceal your cat’s heritage and in doing so, coined his name, Anubis. You, in turn, named his great horned owl Athena. Both your companions took not only a liking to their new names but also to each other and would often be seen cozying about somewhere in the Slytherin common room. Ben never let you go without whenever he could, always bringing you whatever supplies you might have needed “just because”.

Since the two of you had begun your magical education, you minded to yourselves as best you could. It did prove to be rather difficult. Some of the elder Gryffindor students were almost always on your case because you had taken to defending another Slytherin boy. You and Ben caught a group of boys dangling him from his ankle, high in the sky using magic.

You disarmed the apparent leader, one James Potter. This led to a mild brawl between the group of bullies and you and Ben. Peter, the rat-faced boy ran away, the one named Sirius fought Ben and you fought James. Remus opted out of this small brawl and saw it as “unmanly” to hit you. You were sure to add a few well placed punches on James for that to prove a point.

When all was said and done, you ended up with a black eye and a few bruises. Ben, on the other hand, had fractured ribs, a broken nose, and a couple bite marks- he wasn’t happy about that. The boy in question was older by two years and his name was Severus Snape. He wasn’t fond of either of you at first but you bugged him enough to at least be tolerated by him. 

As a result of the fight, Dumbledore was advised to expel you both, the bullies included, but the Ministry sent an advisor to meet with the Headmaster and you two were able to walk away without consequences on behalf of the school outside a bloody red howler.

It was sent by Ben’s mother who was not impressed with your chivalry as well as Ben’s “ineptitude to be a leader and not a follower”. This soured his mood for quite some time seeing as the entire school knew about it by the end of the day. Although you both left this debacle with little to no consequences, the group of Gryffindor boys were sent on a week long detention in the Forbidden Forest and lost 50 house points- each.

Ever since then, the Gryffindor house all made it a point to target you two. It didn’t bother you for the first year or so, you felt a sense of pride knowing that you did the right thing. It only became more inconvenient when they began to mess with your studies. That only fueled your drive to do better, to be better.

Ben, on the other hand, wanted less to do with this type of attention, he felt it to be too bothersome and invasive, which it was. They’d begin rumors about him, his family. All this did was further alienate him from others as they began to whisper about his background. As for you they’d only temper with your schooling since nobody knew of your father’s “infamy” in Europe.

Your fellow Slytherins either ignored both of your existences or quite simply cared to not get involved with the rivalry. Surprisingly enough, the general house feeling was to attempt winning the house cup as many years in a row as possible, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had been dominating that title for the past four years at the very least.

The boy you defended, Severus Snape, acknowledged you two well enough eventually, offering to help your studies in potions since you had kind of guilted him into the position of tutor. You managed to begin scoring high marks since Severus made it relatively easy as he lent you his copy of Advanced Potions Making every once in a while. This alongside your affinity for botanical witchcraft seemed perfect. Aside from being your tutors, he kept to himself, much like the team you developed with the Minister's son. Alas, he wouldn’t be caught dead being seen with either of you but you would meet, albeit secretly, in one of the abandoned girls' bathrooms for his lessons once a week.

Due to Severus’ teachings you began to take to making whatever precautions you felt would be needed eventually. Ben often found himself either hurt or in need of aid and you always seemed to have his needs prepared before he even opened his mouth. This sparked his new nickname for you, Starlight. The one who always knew how to light the way.

Eventually the rumors and overall whispers began to grow more and more irritable. By the time your fifth year had rolled around, you needed to help Ben find an escape. You couldn’t sit by and watch your best friend cave into himself, becoming more reserved around you as if you were the exact same people he did not trust.

It felt like forever and a half until you found the perfect thing. You called it “The Attic”. It was not but what seemed to be but a small abandoned classroom on one of the most southern towers at the school. There was a large window facing the front of the school, where you could see the bridge that welcomed students each year if they came from the carriages. The other window facing the west allowed you to see the sunset from the room perfectly every evening.

Ben became more and more curious the more you slipped out from the common room without saying anything to him. These antics had gone on for about two weeks before he confronted you.

“Where do you think you’re going,” he warily said your name. His hand gripped your upper arm when you tried to scoot around behind him without him noticing one evening. 

You felt anxious, staring at him like this, with your secret to hide, a surprise you couldn’t wait to show. “I can’t tell you yet but please,” you begged in a hushed whisper, “trust me.” Ben let go of your arm and nodded, watching you give a half smile and turn around, disappearing behind the common room doorway. He had half a mind to follow you but he stayed where he sat at the desk.

Not once in your entire friendship did he ever think about trust when it came to you. It felt like a foreign concept entirely. Being around you felt intoxicating, as if being next to you solved every problem he ever had.

Trust.

Yeah, he believes he trusts you.

He stayed put in that chair all night, even ignoring the Slytherin Head Boy calling everyone to bed for lights out. He stayed rooted in the chair, waiting for your return, clutching a letter in his hand that Athena, his wonderful owl, delivered earlier in the day. In the far corner of the room, he could hear the clock chiming, alerting him that it was now midnight.

Ben let out a heavy sigh and burned the letter, the contents lost in the flames. A problem for another day.

Deep in thought, the entry to the common room opened slowly, slipping past Ben’s attention. You walked closer behind him, watching him as he concentrated on the burning parchment.

You whispered his name and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Why are you still awake?”

He turned to look at you. His eyes filled with weariness and a hush of anger. “Where did you go?” He avoided your question.

You lowered your hood and flashed a big grin, excitement growing within the confines of your belly. “Let me show you tomorrow? I promise, you’ll really enjoy it.”

Ben searched your eyes and saw you were not going to hide your secret from him no longer and he conceded with a shallow nod. 

The very next day, you both left dinner in the Great Hall early and you led him by his hand, taking the right hallway then a left to a spiral staircase, then up the changing stairways, up up up and up, almost not stopping.

He was beginning to get annoyed, thinking you’d led him on some wild goose chase until you stopped dead in your tracks in front of a door, you spun around, excitement making your whole body feel like it was vibrating.

“Here, this is what I’ve been working on, it’s for you- for us to come to whenever we want,” you word vomited.

Ben looked at you with furrowed brows as you gestured to the handle, encouraging him to open the door. As he did, you clapped your hands together, hoping- praying he likes this place.

Inside was the abandoned classroom you had found when you went looking for the Slytherin Prefect one day, it was dusty and filled with magical creatures that began to make their home there but now, now it was filled with a brown couch, a small bed, a brown desk, some books, a record player and vinyl, a calligraphy set, and a plethora of other, much smaller details.

When you first began to rearrange this space for the two of you, you made a deal with some of the magical beings: you would never take away their home and made a deal to share the space, even making them all small nests throughout the room, one special one filled with a small family of bowtruckles. You earned their trust by offering them some woodlice and a never ending pile of it for them.

When Ben walked into the space, his eyes darted so fast around, trying to absorb each and every detail, every piece of you that you offered to share from the muggle world with him, and the bits of him that were around, decorations you had sought to placate some of his interests like the calligraphy set- something he mentioned was a minor hobby of his since childhood.

His heart swelled with emotions- so much you have given him and he felt he has done nothing in comparison, that you are the very sunshine that peaks through the leaves on a sunny day. Tears began to well in his eyes over this grand gesture of yours.

And so, you two spent every available free time in that room, The Attic. This place truly felt like a home away from home for you both.

Ben, one of the best spell masters you knew, casted an undetectable expansion charm on a pair of satchels so you could bring stuff from home to this space, but being careful not to bring anything much too large.

You wouldn’t tell him how you managed to sneak a whole couch and bed in there, there could be a few innocent secrets between you both.

He took another turn to look around the new room for you both, letting his large hand leave featherlight touches on the items you had decorated the room in, the muggle records being his favorite- so much he didn’t know about that world. Your world. The one outside everything magical, everything he was constantly surrounded by.

“Th- thank you, Starlight.”

“Anything for you,” you smiled. 

[anxietycalling]

Ugh. Ugh. It's been a week since the Atomic Mom went off and, like, I still feel weird about it. I keep not doing anything about it thinking that that's progress because I used to be volatile and reactionary, but is it? Or my silence making me an accessory to her transphobia?

I thought cutting her out would make me feel better, and for a second it did, but I am anxious about it so I keep checking her page like that's going to give me some insight. Spoiler alert: it doesn't. And I just keep thinking about all the things she doesn't know about or doesn't want to know about - Husband, my name change - and it's a mess. It's a mess!

Part of me keeps thinking I should write her a letter, or something, but then I remember the way she absolutely refused to read anything I write despite admitting I had talent. She found something I wrote once, when I was 12, and I used curse words in it so she decided I was a terrible pornographic miscreant forever. I think I was 18 the first time I even wrote a sex thing.

And, like, what would I even put in a letter? "Here's a list of all the horrible things you said to me? Here's my updated birth certificate but also please take me out of your will?" Saying something feels like a nuclear option, but not saying something means she gets to live with her blindfold on pretending she's the greatest mom ever.

I know, I know, this is probably stuff for therapy, but it's too fucking expensive right now, and one of the cats needs a vet visit because she broke a tooth, and I think I am moderately spiraling because in the past I would ask her for help but I don't want to "use her" - her words, not mine.

I don't know. It's complicated because at one time she did give me literally thousands of dollars while I was ruining my life in California. She did bail me out when I needed it, even if she did think I was on meth. (Please note, I have never even done one drug. I am a recovered alcoholic, but that's it, I spent a year drinking my feelings and hated it.)

But also! Also, she tried to get the SPCA to break literal federal confidentiality law to punish me, tried to have me arrested for animal hoarding, all because the drug addict who lived in an apartment before us left her two pregnant cats behind. We tried our hardest to rehome those fucking kittens and keep them healthy with no one helping us. Like, the majority of my money from working went to cat care and she still thought we were just doing drugs all the time. I don't even know. I don't even know!

I am so not the drug sibling in this dynamic. My older brother sold drugs up until he moved out the second time, he sold them from our garage and she never even blinked. My older sister got busted with weed and a bong in the front seat of her car, even did jail time for it (which shouldn't have happened, but still!) and that was just fine. But I constantly try to be a better person and I'm just, like, evil or something?

I know I am never going to win her approval. She sees me as something less than human, okay, some kind of Frankenstein monster.

Some days I wake up and just wish I could hurt her as big as she hurt me. I think maybe that makes me a bad person. I don't know. Can you even hurt someone who doesn't have a heart?

It bothers me a lot that she's never once asked about Husband or my dating life or, like, anything. She wants the beautiful pictures from my sisters' weddings and all the trappings that go along with it, but my actual marriage is a sham to her because I didn't ask her fucking permission. And, like, hell yeah I ran away from her house to be with Husband, because he's awesome, but also because we both recognized if I didn't get out of there I would be dead by now.

Like, I was essentially a prisoner in my own home. I had to account for everything I did to her, constantly, and every dollar I spent, and every phone call and communication. It's exhausting. Who wouldn't take the opportunity to escape if they could? Who wouldn't take the opportunity NOT to be constantly surveilled?

We have never once talked about it, but I know she installed keyloggers on all my devices up until I moved out at 19 and cut her off the first time. I am still constantly terrified that I'm being monitored. I still have trouble even letting Husband use my phone or laptop just in case. He's very considerate and he knows how hard it is for me, but sometimes I wish I could just let him google something without feeling like I need to hover over him the whole time.

I wish I knew what to say. I want to write her a letter, something really scathing, but I know it's useless. She'll just use it to make herself the victim, like she always does, and just add it to her arsenal of why trans people are the enemy and only transition specifically to hurt her.

What is there to say?

Hey, you say and do really hurtful things whenever I try to open up to you? And every time I do you act like I'm personally attacking you with my happiness, so don't call me your kid anymore unless it's to call me your son who you love and support. Don't send me your pity money on holidays so we can sidestep the fact that my appearance in your family tree is an embarrassment. Just don't, okay? Don't act like our family is good and normal when you can't even acknowledge my existence, when you lie to all your friends about how I've been and who I fucking am. Don't act like you didn't try to squash all my interests constantly, or treat me like a deviant, or tell me my first tattoo made me look like I belonged in jail.

The tattoo thing makes me really mad, actually. When things were briefly good between us I had a really cute mother-son tattoo idea. I wanted her to get R2-D2 and I'd get BB-8, because we both love Star Wars and BB is the little baby droid. Maybe it's a good thing we never did it. I don't get why tattoos are this awful, ugly thing to her when she literally got her belly button pierced during her midlife crisis. Especially cause any time I got a new piercing she freaked the fuck out. I got my septum pierced at 16 and hid it from her for years. I was 22 when she found out and her reaction was exactly what I thought it would be. The piercing wasn't even out, it was just the shadow of the retainer in my nose, and she acted like I'd tattooed my entire face or something.

I am so angry that my mom never told her shitty friends I'm trans. It shouldn't be my job to out myself to her redneck friends. It shouldn't be my job to put myself in danger constantly to justify my existence in the hopes of eventually getting the crumbs of affection she's willing to throw my way when she feels guilty enough. It's supposed to be her job to protect me. It's supposed to be her job to protect me from feeling bad, and that extends to the dysphoria of being dead named when I am a literal man with tattoos and a beard and enough back hair to knit a sweater out of.

I just! I wish she'd come out just once and say "I am horrible and transphobic and don't think you should be allowed to exist and be happy, and I think your body is gross." Like, it wouldn't be so bad if she would actually admit what is going on here. It's been 15 years and she is not trying at all.

I wish I could figure out what the fuck to say. I want to just shove everything into an envelope and send it and be done with it. The ball can be in her court to decide what she wants to do.

The worst part about all of this is that I can almost see it from her perspective. Well. Her perspective if she were a human being and not an emotional vampire. She's never been able to look past herself and see situations as they actually are. And I feel bad for her sometimes, because her sisters have fulfilling lives and leave her to do the crappy stuff like caring for my grandparents. I feel bad that she's probably jealous of how close my aunts and uncles are with their kids. But she doesn't realize that that's her fault for being so rigid and unforgiving and stubborn. If she were willing to change, or admit fault at all, we'd be a lot closer.

My brother still cries about her and why she doesn't love him sometimes. He's still looking to fill that hole where parental love should be. He's repeating our parents' patterns because he's hurting, too, and until our mom learns to be a human person he's just gonna keep getting hurt.

Times like this make me really wish there were an easy solution. I've read so many books and articles on estrangement I could be an expert by now.

Is it bad that a very petty part of me just wants to post more pictures and tag her on Facebook to make all her friends have to see it? Is that something? I know I shouldn't actually do it lest she cause a huge shitstorm, but it would feel so personally satisfying for a minute before the regret and panic set in.

Maybe I will print out that thing she posted and just literally mail that to her along with whatever letter I end up eventually writing her.

[prince-toffee]

Five Minutes

A sacrifice fic just to prepare for the inevitable.

(Sorry if there’s any grammar errors, I don’t care, I’m tired, ok I do care, consider this a first draft, I’ll fix it if something’s up.)

The doors locked. They did it. They won. The door ‘s access panel changed it’s green light to a red. The display on the panel read ‘Warning, temperature rising to dangerous levels. Clones present in WatchPoint Bay Q6.’ “Yeah, no shit.” Modulok grumbled to himself, and partially to the panel, as he sat down on the walkway next to his brothers.

“Sooooo, what- what’s happenin’? Is it working?” Vultak asked swallowing fear down his throat as he stuttered on the ‘what’. It did work, the Princesses managed to destabilise the core of the capital warship, The Velvet Glove. The She-Ra, Princess of Power, ploughed her mystical sword into the power core, which resulted in the station’s propulsion systems going offline and set the warship on a collision course with Etheria’s most populated centre, BrightMoon.

“Yeah, it worked alright.” Modulok scratched his two heads with his two left hands, “I just... I calculate that we’ve got about five minutes before either the ship burns up ooooor the all-mighty, all-powerful relic sword explodes and tears our atoms apart and flings them across the ten dimensions... maybe both, probably both.” Modulok shrugged his shoulders with a lifeless chuckle, which didn’t really comfort the perched Vultak on the walkway railing. Then again, what would possibly lighten the mood in that moment.

Hordak and Princess Entrapta managed to angle the station in a manner that it’d just nearly miss the planet, burn up in the atmosphere and use the momentum of the gravity to sling shot it into a surrounding moon. The space station was mentally linked to Horde Prime, everything was operated and controlled with his consciousness. With Prime dead, it put them into a difficult circumstance. Someone had to stay behind to make sure the ship stayed on course, someone mentally compatible with the Horde systems. Hordak was the logical choice, actually he was the only choice. He was the only High General present, meaning only he comprehended and was familiar with the warship systems. Hordak thought it was funny, She-Ra did finally kill him. A destiny fulfilled.

“Five minutes to live. That’s not a lot...” Mosquitor spoke up, giving off a an exhausted sigh. All six clones present in the room fell into tense and anxious silence. Fear and sadness blocked their throats, they weren’t used to talking, with their vocal cords, it was forbidden. Clones were only allowed to communicate telepathically and only communicate about their duties and objectives. Small talk wasn’t in the Horde dictionary. Ironically the only places where clones were able to talk and showcase their individualism was on the frontlines.

“Okay, so five minutes left of life... any last words?” Modulok asked shimming his rear to find a comfortable position to sit on the hard, cold walkway. A grated panelled pathway suspended at the centre of a deep chamber above a transparent force shield at the bottom. Which frames a view of heat and fire outside, melting and charring the metal outer casings of the ship.

“What’s there to talk about?” Despara quirked her brow at her brother’s question.

“Well, we’re clones, we don’t get this lucky. We’ve got five minutes to make up for all the decades of silence.” Modulok articulated.

To guide the warship most effectively Hordak had to observe the trajectory from a vantage point, that was where their paths diverged. Princess Entrapta protested, she held his hands in her own, massaged his knuckles with her thumbs. She raised herself up on her hair to face him eye to eye. She even gave him her signature smile, the one that melted his heart in a second. She had that look of possibility in her glistening crimson eyes, a spark of wonder and wanting that looked into multiple futures, hundreds of possibilities, a look that showed Hordak what he had to fight for, a world where that smile, those eyes and that laugh and that brilliant mind exist. A perfect world. He chose to make it, even if it was without him in it. He decided to do something his brother could never. A final gift to Entrapta, for all the trouble and confusion he caused her.

He gave her a kiss on her gloved hand, befitting for royalty, he gave her the best smile he could, and for the last time, he left her. Princess Entrapta would go on to cry for many days to come, but it was for the best. The greater good.

“Alright. I’m just gonna say it, food, not a fan. Too mushy. Has to go through your entire digestive system, which I didn’t even know existed until a few cycles back, and it has to come out th-” Modulok was cut off by Hordak, who previously was completely silent.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” He didn’t even look at them as he spoke, face down, staring at a small purple crystal in his hand, which he used to fugit with to ease his nerves.

“What are you talking about? We stay together. We’re defects.” Despara states to Hordak almost offended, all of them were through a lot, she felt offended that Hordak thought they’d abandon him now.

“We fought through war. We hold-ass across the universe. And we killed our god! Together!... Well, technically the blonde Valkyrie lady killed Prime, but still it’s the thought that counts.” Vultak shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. Hordak rubbed circles on the purple crystal, looking down on it, his face reflected in it’s cracked surface. L-U-V-D. That’s what was etched on it. A fact. A reminder of her compassion. A wake up call. And he did wake up, from a dream world he believed all his life. A life of lies. From a hazy of toxic green to a reality of flaming red.

“I am your general. I stood at our brother’s side, you were mere soldiers, pawns. I deserve this pain, not you. You could’ve- you should have had normal lives.”

Mosquitor chuckled to himself, “Normal isn’t exactly in our dictionary.” The towering brute countered as he cradled the young hybrid in his arms, keeping Zed near his chest. As if it would make any difference when the fire broke through. “Also we’re not the kind of people the Etherians seem to want to deal with.” The statement made a wicked smile form on Hordak’s face. He enjoyed being in charge, being the one with the carrot on the stick. Having something of his own, something to his own name. They will always remember his name. Never forget. No one will ever forget.

“Then what do you think happens to our brothers? You think the Princesses kept their side of the bargain? You think their all off the ship, that they evacuated them?” Despara asked most likely imagining the worst, a possibility that there were some other poor clones still on board. That they were sacrificing lives that weren’t there own.

To quiet their minds, Hordak tiredly claimed, “No. They kept the promise. They’re honest people.” Hordak added that they had to, they were just like that, it was in their nature. Hordak knew their brothers were fine. BrightMoon had no court to try them, no holding cells and wouldn’t have enough to hold all of them for decades to come. And hopefully if Entrapta didn’t decide to hate him, she’d help them all and embrace them in her warmth. Dryl hadn’t had citizens for a decade or two, he was sure the clones wouldn’t be much of a downgrade. Add some life to the ghost town, so she doesn’t feel alone anymore.

“Yeah, well whatever they’re up to, it can’t be as bad as the predicament we’re in, heh.” Vultak flapped his winged arm around, a sharp gasp of pain escaped him as he moved his right around. No wonder either, it was bent forward, from the fight with Prime, literal minutes ago. It felt so victorious for just a moment, but life has a fun way of turning tables around.

“Plus, the Princesses, totally lame, right?” Modulok rolled his eyes as he attempted to stand up to get over to V and help his brother’s arm. But Vultak raised his left hand in protest, there was no need. It was going to be over soon. Modulok sat back down in defeat, amusement draining from his two faces. What good was a medic that couldn’t fix his fellow soldiers.

It was Mosquitor’s turn to brighten the situation, “Hah, yeah I bet they’re all clawing their ears out by now. Hehe, remember what those colour coded pansies moaned about all the time? Friendship? And rainbows? What a mucha losers, eh? Hehe... heh.”

“I remember.” Hordak stated. Never again. Never forget.

“Yea, losers.” Despara nodded.

“Losers.” Modulok and Vultak said at the same time.

“...Hmmmhehehahah- HA!” Modulok covered his face to hide his ugly laughter, forgetting about the other one expressing the same emotion.

“Mode, what the hell now?” Vultak asked, a smirk creeping up on him.

“Hehehehahahahhhh, ahhhhh man, w-heh-which one was the one that tried to hug Zed, heheheh and- and got burned. Oh lord. Oh Great Darkness. That face was priceless. HhhhhhhhHAHAHA!” The infectious mirth managed to wriggle out a small spasm out of Zed. His shoulders moving up and down, his nasal cavity wrinkling up in that cute way. Of course the young Zed contributed no sound of amusement as he was mute.

Despara shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. They all look the same to me.” The room shook violently, the pipes above rattled and metal panels fell off the walls and fell down through the force field below. Hordak’s realisation dawned on him, that he would be departing the mortal realm. Even thought there was an inferno forming beneath him, just outside that thin force field, even though he was surrounded by his clone brethren, his mind couldn’t help but wonder off to the thought of a certain Scientist Princess. His mind run wild with quite corny and laughable poetry, everything he wished he said to Entrapta. But didn’t.

He didn’t need her to devote her entire life to him. No. That’d be caging her. She deserved to be free, free to bend the universe to her will and bow before her beautiful intellect. He didn’t need her to lay her lips on him, she didn’t need to touch him. All he needed was just to see her smile, at him. Just for her to be with him, because that smile just for a moment saves him, just for a moment she makes him forget the endless pain he endured every day of his life. And every smile felt like an eternity of bliss. And so with just a look that woman could transport him into a perfect world, where he could live an eternity-long life.

But he didn’t say any of that to her. Hordak knew Entrapta wasn’t interested in long speechs, she had a short attention span, she was a woman of actions not words. That’s why before all this all Hordak gave Catra was a short note to give to Entrapta. He had her promise that she’d apologise to Entrapta, for all that she had done. Unfortunately, he made her apologise for the two of them. The note read ‘I’m sorry, and thank you. - Your ever loyal knight, Hordikins. Farewell My Queen.’ He could have gone on how there were no words in any dialect across the universe that could express how she made him feel, or that if she only asked he would have gifted her the universe. The note said everything it made to.

“Kinda sucks, all this. I only came on sentient a few hours ago.” Despara stated playing with her hair. The statement of dry humour pulled Hordak back from his day dream. “But I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet all of you. And... and be myself, even if it was short lived.” Despara finished. The words brought smiles to her fellow brothers, the past few Horde cycles were the craziest experiences of their lives, because they were experiencing life itself for the first time. They decided where their paths led. Especially Despara. She wasn’t always... herself. What was going to become Despara was clone DSP-772,411, whom was the detention guard overseeing Catra’s cell. ‘411 had never met an other lifeform other than clones. Dess was a servant clone. Never stepped outside the perimeter of The Velvet Glove. Her insight on the lay out of the ship came in useful to the defects in their infiltration to kill Prime. ‘411 always felt like they weren’t serving their cause properly, along side their dying brothers on the frontlines. Though not on the battlefield she risked her life every day. Prime had a tendency for violent mood swings. A dinner party for Prime’s guests could be more traumatising and devastative to a clones health than the trenches. Many clone have begged to be sent to the frontlines to escape the unspeakable horrors which occurred within the walls of the warship.

‘411 was immediately drawn to the captive Magicat. Catra spilled her heart, cried and whimpered, talked about an old flame of her’s, about how she hurt people close to her, about how the Princesses were “full of it” as she put it. And ‘411 listened to all of it. And at the end, when Catra’s tears dried up and she quieted down, all ‘411 could ask was, what a ‘she’ was. It must’ve shocked Catra, eyes wide in confusion and mouth drooping low in surprise. Hordak was there when she did, but he could’ve imagined the cat’s reaction, mostly because his first Force-Captains had the same reaction when he first asked that same question in his first years on Etheria. Captain Octavia had quite an interesting evening that day. He made her swear an oath of silence, to never speak of that embarrassing encounter.

Clones had no concept of sex or gender, things just were the way they were. As Prime intended them to be, perfect. The bodies and missions given to them by Prime were unquestionable. And it never was questioned, because none knew what other possibilities were out there. The alien armies of the Horde encountered were all different and unique, but there was no time or reason to study them. It wasn’t an objective. Prime did not care. Her brothers may have not fully understood, what Despara meant when she said she was always “this” deep down, but none argued, none protested against their new sister. She was a clone, a defect, one of them. She was a new experience. One of a kind. And as Vultak put it ever so elegantly, “Cool. I never had a sister before.”

It was ultimately her who let Catra out and helped her escape back to the Alliance. Hopefully she got that kiss she so desperately needed. Hordak met ‘411 only once before being sent off back to the frontlines, his return and the assault on the Velvet Glove, and briefly at that, on his way with a breakfast tray to Queen Glimmer’s guest room.

“Hey, hey, stop with that sappy stuff.” Mosquitor waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes. Moe, as his brothers called him, much like most clones including Hordak, wished to at all times seem tough. Poor MSQ-999,332 had it worse than most. He hide his defection for much longer than Hordak. The illness became so bad that eventually he could no longer use his own legs, his waist and legs lost all near all muscle mass. And so ‘332 became paralysed. He was just slowing down his platoon down, so his lower body was amputated. Of course the brother that rescued and brought Moe on board was executed for the crime of ‘Conferring with Inappropriate Machinery’. And Prime personally threw Moe out the airlock back down to the battlefield. ‘332 spent most of his days afterwards, crawling across mudded trenches. Luckily, Moe met on that some battlefield, MUD-111,117, or Modulok.

Nothing, but hatred and vengeance flew through his veins, it did for all of us. Mode managed to construct a life support system, for Moe, a walking hospital bed. Many parallels could’ve been made between it and Hordak’s own First Ones suit, created by Entrapta. Moe’s unit was twice the size of Hordak, it made him tower over even Prime, but the biggest difference was, Hordak’s suit was near indestructible, Moe on the other hand even if he had intimidation on his side the armour was more for life support than anything. Mosquitor faired better from a distance, ‘332 was an amazing snipper. The room shook more, sparks fling from wiring in the wall, the walkway holding them vibrated and shuttered. Moe took hold of Zed in his large arms, readying for the end.

The sight made Hordak thankful that Entrapta took Imp and got him to safety. The Lord of the Horde didn’t think he could’ve handled having to be forced to watch he’s own creation die... his little spy. He was safe, back on Etheria, in a loving home with a loving overseer. He only hoped that she’d teach Imp her ways, and hoped that one day Imp would grow into an intelligent man worthy enough to continue her legacy of brilliance.

Zed was the youngest of all the clones, although technically the creature wasn’t even a clone, but rather a hybrid. A prototype of the splicing initiative. A combination of Prime’s DNA and an unknown gene pool. The kid was an attempt at a creation of super soldiers, but failed. Poor kid always wanted to meet that other half of him. That other person that aided in bringing him into the world. This awful, awful world. Sadly, he never will, but he was the first to follow Hordak into the chamber. The boy did say back on the frontlines, that he’d jump into fire after him. And it was true. And to be more accurate, he didn’t say, he signed. All the defects learned the universal sign language. Zed might’ve been silent, but his voice wasn’t unheard.

He’s fate should have been a better one. He didn’t deserve this, he had a full life in front of him. Hordak never knew what drew Zed to him, why he asked so many questions, why he snuck out at night to see  him in the trenches. When Prime sent Hordak back to the frontlines, after his torturous reconditioning, he lost hope, but when he stepped out, or rather more accurately, when he was thrown out the troop dropship. Face first in a muddy trench dozens of defects thrown down with him. When he looked up from the dirt and filth, a slither of hope ignited in his belly, as a hand extended to him. Wonder in the boy’s eyes. He overheard Hordak’s mention of being trapped on other worlds.

”Hey, V you’re staring into the ceiling buddy. Talk to us.” Modulok snapped his fingers at his winged brother. Vultak didn’t turn to face him, mesmerised by the ceiling falling apart. V’s facial expression showcased a hypnotised look. As a combat aerial unit he always did look into the skies. But it probably had to do something with the impending doom below. ‘Don’t look down.’ Hordak remembered was the advise Vultak gave him when they leaped out onto the Velvet Glove from the dropship they stole, which exploded seconds later in the void of space as it filled with laser fire. VLT-441,441 was a paratrooper in the Horde military, until of course his defect began to show. He was always used to jumping into certain death, fearless in any mission. Vultak didn’t fear anything physical, nothing in the universe made him back down. But now, at the end he looked frightened, he couldn’t look down, do no more leaps of faith, for faith, he lost.

It’s true V feared nothing physical, because he had faith. He was a man of god. A believer. But what happens to a man when your god turns his back on you? Horde Prime knew defection was inevitable for many clones. No machine was perfect, especially no war machine. So Horde Prime infused prophecies and implanted messages into all clone subconscious, so that when defection occurs, all clones are compelled to return to him. Easier than hunting them down, easier to cover up the disgrace of his failures. Easier to hide his mistakes, he couldn’t afford to let those space fairing races above him mapping his progress to know about things like that. Couldn’t afford to let those higher than him know he was capable of mistakes. Perfection was expected of him. Those others above him, he tried to impress them, to have them take him in, show him enlightenment. He, all he wanted to do, was show he was worth their celestial time, he was worth something.

And now he’s nothing. He is now dead. Hordak found that he began to enjoy poetry and it’s irony more and more, in a twisted sort of way. Truly clones.

“Do you... Do you think there’s something out there for us? Up there, where ever?” The questions were deafening, everyone hoped Vultak wouldn’t have gone existential on them. But Vultak was the biggest patriot of them all, even surpassing Hordak’s obsession with their brother. And in turn he was the one most hurt by Prime’s betrayal. He was no god, no grand being, just a liar. Hundreds of thousands murdered... for him, because they believed their big brother. Hundreds of thousands, they murdered, for a lie.

“Do you think any of it was true? Do you think he believed any of it? Or was it ALL a lie?” Hordak answered V’s question in his mind, since never before was it a private place: Lie. “The Perfect World. The Grey Mound? The Hold Peck? The Great Darkness?” V grit his teeth, another wave of pain from his broken arm.

“Worried about being sent to the bad place, V?” Modulok asked, weak smile wearing.

“I’m just wondering. What’s waiting in the beyond for a guy like me. It can’t be anything good... if there even is anything up there.” Modulok decided to stand up and close the distance between him and his distraught brother. He leaned against the railing on which Vultak perched himself.

Mode gently touched V’s shoulder, it made sure V looked at him when he spoke. “I promise you, where ever you wake up on the other side, I’ll be there with you. And I’ll always fix you up after you jump into certain doom. Brother, you have my word.” It was true, the two were inseparable. Threw pure change the two met on the frontlines. While V had his head in the clouds, Mode grounded him, pulled him down to his level. Mode was a realist. He was bad at his bed side manner, he never lied to himself or his patients. He was a field medic, he saw things no one should, endured horrors unimaginable to the innocent. Modulok was the oldest to them, he was through a lot, fighting from world to world longer than any of them in Prime’s name. Over the many decades the spark of pride dulled, Mode found himself lost, fighting across the stars for a cause he no longer believed in.

Mode’s was haunting, even to other defects, whom experienced hardships and injustice. Modulok’s defection was the most dire Hordak ever seen, MUD-111,117 developed a second head, and two left arms. His genome could have been compaired to a computer glitch, untreated it just got worse. It was a miracle that Mode managed to make it to such an old age. Many species across the universe considered age to be a weakness, a disadvantage, but ‘117 always argued that with age came experience, and with experience came knowledge, which in turn led to wisdom. It was Mode who constructed Moe’s suit, led Dess’s surgery, gave V his wings and taught Zed sign language. A true veteran. He had been through it all.

But what Mode never helped Hordak with anything, ‘ 117 was a medic, he was compelled to fix others. But when Hordak first arrived at the fronts of Primus Minor, he isolated himself from everyone else, kept to himself. Hordak treated his own wounds, he worked on his armour alone. When he took the suit off, he was forced to walk on his own, no armour support system. And so he locked himself in an unused compartment of the trenches and over the course of six months, he learned how to walk. Baby steps to an adult man, who never had a childhood. Mode gathered from all of that, that Hordak was a loner. A solo act. Didn’t do well with people.

There came a day where Mode pulled Hordak off to the side and asked him why he worked through all the baggage alone? Why didn’t he ask for aid? Why did he ignore them? Hordak apologised that it seemed like he was avoiding them. And what Hordak said back in response stayed with the medic ‘til the end of his life.

“Mode... If there is good and evil.

And good is better than evil.

God has to be good... Right?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, are we good? Are we... like him?”

“What do you think?”

“I think there’s no such thing as good or evil.

But it’d be nice... to be good.”

“So, anybody got any idea how much time we’ve got left?” Despara asked looking at Modulok. Who just struggled in return, he didn’t exactly have a timer, he simply estimated the time remaining. “So that’s a no? We don’t kno- We can just blow up at any second?... Cool.” Dess combed her hair with her fingers to calm her nerves.

“You really think a timer would settle your nerves?” Moe asked unconvinced.

“I suppose not.” Dess admitted.

“I could’ve been with her.” Hordak spoke up suddenly in the middle of the conversation, honestly he was so quiet Despara forgot he was there, even though he was seated right next to her.

“What’d ya mean?”

“I could’ve saved myself... the First Ones crystal, it’s a server. To help me sync up with her new armour, Entrapta recorded my brain waves on the crystal. My memories, my thoughts, my personality, all of it... I could have given it to her when I last saw her.

But I didn’t.

I lied.

I left her.”

All five siblings turned their heads side to side take turns looking at each other and then back at Hordak. His face unmoved. Looking at the purple crystal. Zed stood up and broke free of Moe’s embrace. The young one stepped up to him. Hordak’s blood red eyes drifted up to the boy’s hands. He signed.

‘Why?’

“...Because it wouldn’t be me. Not me. A clone of me.”

The clones fell silent. Head bowing down. No more needed to be said. Every aspect of their lives had been thrown into question, into uncertainty. When the assault on The Velvet Glove happened, Hordak was leading the charge. Prime captured him and tortured him, he hurt him in front of Entrapta. He fell to his knees and crawled back to Prime, like he always did. But this time it was different, he stood up, he walked to him. Like a man, not a dog. Prime insulted and demeaned him. Prime claimed that Hordak wasn’t wasn’t a person. Clones were nothing, mere shadows of his greatness. The clones were him, just dirtier, unclean. A lesser version of what he was.

This was their stance against that. Showing that their lives meant something. That they were worth something. They were worth the world, for that was what they were saving. The scale balanced out.

The force field beneath them gave off a thunderous sound, a final warning. The bay shook one more time, the artificial gravity became disabled and the room began to tilt and shift. The metal walls crumbled like paper. The walkway began to swing and crack. Mode took V’s unbroken hand into his own. Moe embraced Zed in his arms one last time. Dess wrapped her arm around Hordak’s shoulder, and he inturn pressed his head against hers.

Modulok gave his last words in the form of a question, “...Do... Do you think... Could’ve we done something, could’ve we ended up with a happy ending, all of us? Could’ve we been good? Would it have make any difference?”

Hordak spent his last moments thinking, he didn’t realise he was thinking out loud, “Good? I think there’s no such thing as good?...

But it was nice...”

What ever this was. What it meant. What it was worth.

The force field imploded, gave in. The fire broke through. The Velvet Glove burned up in the atmosphere. And the clones were no more. And on that day all of Etheria cheered, and celebrated. For the evil was vanquished.

Ding-dong! The witches are dead.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Name:  Stephanie.

Country: USA.

Age:  31.

Gender(s): Female

Height:  ~5′4

weight:  70-something lbs.

eye color: Brown.

skin color:  White.

Heritage: I’ve been really wanting to do one of those ancestry dna or 23 and me tests to find out exactly what I am. Relationship status:  Single.

Are you physically healthy?  No.

Are you mentally healthy? Nope

Job?:  No job.

school:  I graduated college back in 2015.

Favs:

Animal:  Dogs and giraffes.

Flower:  I don’t really have one.

Movie:  I have many favorites.

TV show: I have many favorites.

Music:  I like variety.

Band:  One of them will always be Linkin Park.

Video Game: Mario Bros games and Animal Crossing: New Horizon

Gaming Console: Nintendo Switch.

Name:  Alexander. ;)

Person:  My family.

Love life:

1: Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? Nope.

2: Do you love them? 

3: Are you still in love with an ex? No.

4: How many people have you dated?  Two.

5: Do you think you’ll get married?  No.

6: Have you ever been emotionally/physically abused in a relationship?  No.

7: Have you ever hurt your partner by accident without knowing it? I’m single, but no I don’t think I have in the past. But if I didn’t know it then I wouldn’t know?

8: Whats important to you in a relationship?  Communication, trust, understanding, patience.

9: Do you have to see them everyday? ( or hear from them)? I’m singleeee. 

10: Do you think you can love someone within 2 weeks? I personally don’t think so.

Friendship and Family:

1: How many friends do you have?  Zero.

2: What type of friend are you?  Not a good one anymore.

3: Have you ever been friends with someone for longer than 7 years? Yeah. My former best friend and I were friends for almost 15 years.

4: Do you have one best friend, more or none?  One, my mom. 

5: Have you ever had a friend just stop being your friend and you never knew why?  Yes.

6: Do you get along with family?  Yes.

7: Do you have a family member you hate?  No.

8: Does your family accept who you are?  Yes.

9: Are you an only child or have siblings?  I have 2 brothers. 

10: Do you have parents that still live together? Yes.

School:

1:What grade are you in? I’m not.

2: Are you in Middle, High, or college? ( or neither)?  Neither, like I said I graduated college back in 2015.

3: Whats your favorite class?  English was always my favorite. In college I enjoyed most of my psych classes.

4: Do you have a fav school year?  Elementary school years.

5: Are you a good student?  I was, yeah.

6: Do you think homework is good or bad?  I wouldn’t say it’s good or bad. I mean, I get seeing if you’re understanding then material and whatnot and applying it. I guess it depends on the amount assigned and what type of assignment it is. 

7: Have you ever had a teacher who was really funny but had poor teaching skills?  Yes.

8: Is your GPA high or low?  It was high.

9: Do you like to particpate in conversations in the class room or are you the listener?  I was definitely a listener. I haaaaated classes that made class discussion apart of your grade.

10: Do you take part in extra school events? (eg. Plays, sports, leadership,clubs)? I was in clubs in high school and the psych club in college, even serving as a board member.

Health

1: Do you need to lose or gain weight?  I definitely need to put on some weight.

2: Have you ever had the swine flu? (H1n1)  No. I remember being scared about getting it and that whole thing wasn’t even on the level of covid. 

3: Do you like to go to the doctors?  Nooo. I’ve had more than my share of doctor appointments of all different kinds all throughout my life. They still make me anxious and stressed out, they’re definitely not something I find enjoyable.

4: Have you ever puked in school or at work?  I remember getting sick once in kindergarten and having to rush outside to the trash can.

5: Have you ever been extremely sick where you couldnt even leave your bed? Yes, I’ve experienced that several times.

6: Do you hate puking or does it make you feel better? I hate actually doing it, but afterwards I usually do feel better. There are times where it gets to the point where I wish I would just do it already and get it over with cause I know it’d help me feel better. That’s when I’m really not feeling well.

7: Have you ever coughed up blood?  No.

8: Should you be eating healthier ? Yes.

9: Do you lie to your doctor?  I downplay some things or not share certain things, admittedly. :X

10: Have you ever taken too much advils?  No. That would make me sick.

Mental Health:

1: Do you have a mental illness?  Yes.

2: Do you take anti-depressants? No.

3: Are you mentally stable?  Uhhh.

4: Have you ever been misdiagnosed? Yes.

5: Do you think you have an disorder but havent been properly diagnosed yet? Maybe.

6: Is self diagnosing good or bad? I don’t see an issue with researching yourself and thinking you may have something, but it’s important to take that information to a doctor. However, sadly I know that not everyone is able to do that. And I also have a problem with doing that myself, which I think can cause unnecessary stress. I also think people tend to throw around labels and say they have something when they don’t. Gah, it’s a slippery slope.

7: Should we give more money to mental health research?  Yes, absolutely.

8: Do you think everyone has a chance to over come their mental disorders?  I think many can learn to better manage some of them, but I feel like they’re always going to be there. 

9: Would you ever not date someone if they had a severe disorder? ( Schizophrenia,BPD, mood disorders)? I don’t know and I’m probably horrible for saying that. I have my mental disorders and I know it can be a lot for people to be around and handle. I just... I don’t know if I’d be able to be there for them in a way they might need ya know? I lack the experience. I can’t say no for certain. I think it would just really depend on the situation and if I learned more about it. 

10: Does mental illness run in your family? Yes.

SEX

1: Virgin?  Yes.

2: what age did you lose it? 3: Did you take sex ed? 6th grade, middle school, and a health and psych class my freshman year in high school.

4: Does size matter?

5: Whats your favorite poistions?

6: Does virginity exist? I believe so. I know some feel it’s not a real thing or a social construct, but to me it’s a thing. It’s someone who hasn’t had sex. When you have sex, you’re said to have lost your virginity and to me that just means in the very literal sense that you’re not a virgin anymore. I’m not referring to it as something deeper. Although, it can be for some people. And while I don’t think it’s like losing some part of yourself or something life altering, I personally feel like I would feel a change in some way. I also want to add that it’s something I want “lose” or share with someone special. I don’t know, man. I’m sure I’m not explaining it well. It’s just a personal thing.

7: Do you think sex is overated?  I wouldn’t know.

8: Is making love and fucking different? One just sounds more romantic and slow and passionate and the other sounds rough lol 9: Is it important for both genders to understand eachothers bodies?  Yeah.

10: If someone was a virgin and was raped, did they lose their virginity? If it’s not consensual or your choice then you can choose not to count it is how I see it. Like yes, technically they’ve had sex, but something so horrific and traumatic doesn’t count. Losing their virginity should be done their way, with someone they want to share that with. In the situation they were raped, they’re allowed to take their power and control back and count it when they do so with someone they want to do, consensually. 

Check the box:

1.My hair color is: [x] Brown [] Black [] Blonde [x]Red [] Funky colors [] Auburn [] more than one color <<< It’s a mix of my natural color and red because I haven’t dyed it since February.

2.Eye color: []Blue []Grey [x]Brown []Light brown []dark brown []green []amber [] I have two different colors of eyes

3.I am a : []Male [x] Female []Trans Male [] Trans Female []Gender Fluid [] I dont have a gender []Non Binary [] other

4: I am: []Fit [] Average [x]Skinny []Fat

5: I love my : [x]Hair []Eyes []Smile []Teeth []Skin []everything about myself []None of these.  <<< Italicized because I only like my hair when it’s been dyed and my roots aren’t showing haha... unlike now.

6: I hate my: [x]Hair []eyes [xx]smile [x]teeth [x]skin [x] everything about myself [] I dont hate anything about myself

7: My feet are: [x]Small []Wide []Narrow []long []large [x]Ugly []Pretty

8: I have a hard time: []Finding something to wear [x]Making Friends [x] making food [x]staying focused

9: I am: []Employed [x]Not employed []retired []I can’t work []Self employed []Looking for a job

10: I love: []the moon []the sun [x]the stars []our galaxy []planets

Bold what is true:

I am Funny

I am a girl

I have no hair

I have curly hair

^ I hate it

I have straight hair

I have a dog

I have a cat

I have both

I love to get drunk

I don’t drink

I love to smoke weed but i hate smoking cigarettes

I love both

I rather have one best friend than 20 friends who i am not close with

My dad died

My mom died

My parents are both dead

My parents are alive

I like to touch my bruises

I have funny teeth

I love Mcdonalds fries

Sometimes when Im alone I sing as loud as I can

even if i cant sing

I believe in God

I believe in the butterfly affect

I hate video games

I wish I was taller

I can’t understand math

I am very good at writing an essay

I never had sex before

I love Mac N Cheese

I love Disney Movies

I prefer Dreamswork over Walt Disney

I am going to College

I finished college

I wish I went to college

I hate my job

I am the boss at my job

I have a feelings for a friend but i cant tell them because it would ruin our friendship

^ I have feelings and i told them

I wish soda was healthy

I sleep with the window opened

This survey was too long

[karazor--el]

Supergirl's Nicole Maines Is the Trans Hero the World Needs

Trans actress Nicole Maines is seeking justice on Supergirl.

The CW’s Supergirl is showcasing the power of the press, says Nicole Maines, who plays reporter Nia Nal (a.k.a. Dreamer). “This is really a season about portraying journalists as superheroes,” she explains. “When we have a president who’s trying to vilify journalists, then you guys really are heroes.”

When the show’s creative team was planning the fifth season, Maines says they wanted create an enemy “that the Super Friends couldn’t necessarily fight with their fists or with heat vision.” The show’s writers found their adversary in the leader of a human supremacist group who’s “fanning the flames of hatred and bigotry in National City.” Even after he’s imprisoned, the city continues to be ravaged with problems. “How do you fight fear? “ Maines asks. “How do you fight ignorance and hatred and bigotry? That’s not something you can punch.”

The parallels are all too real given the constant attacks on immigrants, reporters, and trans people like Maines. At 21, the actress has already had a life of fighting the kind of bigotry she tackles on TV.

In 2007, Maines first challenged her elementary school over bathroom access. The case went to the Maine Supreme Court, which ruled in 2014 that denying a trans student access to a bathroom that matched their gender identity was unconstitutional. Since then, she’s advocated for LGBTQ rights, appearing in the HBO documentary The Trans List and in the book Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family. At 17, Glamour named her Woman of the Year. She’s also received honors from HRC and the Matthew Shepard Foundation.

These days, her acting career is taking center stage on a show that could not be more relevant. Her screen work is reminiscent of Wonder Woman’s Lynda Carter — who is, ironically, now Maines’s costar on Supergirl, playing U.S. President Olivia Marsdin.

The show delivers plenty of timely issues, including immigration. Maines, who accepted the role before she even knew the storyline, says, “I knew that I was going to play a trans woman and I knew I was going to play a reporter and I knew I was going to play a superhero.” Once she found out about how they were going to draw a parallel to America today, she knew this was “a story that needs to be told.”

“This is what we need in a superhero show,” says Maines. “We have a show about… otherworldly refugees coming to Earth, coming to National City. What would that look like? It would look like you know a lot of people saying aliens are coming to take our jobs, they’re dangerous. The exact same conversation we’re having with immigrants today... How do you make sense of it all? How do you combat people’s fears?”

Without a doubt, Supergirl is attempting to challenge the hearts and minds of its viewers. “I think superheroes are a great way to talk about these issues because superheroes are a huge staple in American culture and something everybody’s familiar with,” Maines says, adding that by using superheroes to talk about things like xenophobia or homophobia, it can make such topics more approachable in real life. The camp aspect of it all keeps it light.

“I am not reading my news app and crying and freaking out,” admits Maines, “At least I’m seeing this through Supergirl. At least that’s how I cope with it.”

Using fantasy as a tool to talk about political issues isn’t new. Films like Iron Man, Captain America, and Superman have managed it successfully — using historical enemies, like Nazis, and even setting the time amid the backdrop of the Cold War. Superheroes have always existed at the intersection of culture and politics, but Maines says it hasn’t always resonated with everyone, especially radical right-wingers who’d rather take politics out of superhero movies. “People are only upset about it now because, for the first time, they are on the other side of it,” she explains. “The enemy is potentially at home. It’s not overseas, it’s not someone you can point at.”

Playing Nia makes Maines an even bigger role model as well, and she feels that love on social media. While she feels enormous pressure being the first trans superhero, Maines admits it’s easier because she’s not the first trans character on TV.

“We are exiting the era of television where trans characters feel a need to explain themselves,” she says. “Where all trans characters are the trans characters and that their role on the show is to educate other characters…[and] the audience about what it means to be trans. I don’t have to be necessarily the trans superhero. I can be a superhero who is trans.”

“What an amazing trajectory to know in 50 years we can go from being a completely isolated community and being thrown in jail for wearing the wrong article of clothing to being on television in a super-suit, and being seen by everyone,” she adds. “Not just people in our community but people outside of our community, people across the country, across the world are seeing us.”

Maines hopes that Hollywood will now be more open to cast trans actors in trans-specific roles, mainly because of the effects it has off-screen.

“One of the arguments that I see is, ‘Well it’s acting, it’s pretending.’ Well yes, but you also have to take into account how that is reading to someone sitting on their couch watching — someone who has never seen a trans person before. If you cast a man and put him in a dress and say this is what ‘trans’ looks like, well then that’s where we get the whole ‘men in dresses’ argument. That’s why I feel it is so important, because we are actively combating that narrative that trans people are somehow pretending or playing dress-up.”

While she thinks equal opportunity for gay actors, for example, should be a consideration, the rest of the arguments aren’t the same. “No one is going around saying that gay people are straight people pretending to be gay to get into gay functions. No one is saying that. There’s not that harmful narrative reinforced [when compared to the trans narrative].”

Though Maines is quickly racing to the top of the Hollywood A-list, she can’t help but be anxious, especially since she’s now part of an industry with so much rejection. That’s why she’s choosing to “stop, smell the roses,” and “be very, very happy, be very thankful.”

Of course, that includes finding love. At 21, Maines is “single as a Pringle,” she jokes, and the men she meets in Vancouver (where Supergirl is filmed) are often outdoor adventurers.

“I feel like all the guys in Vancouver are like, ‘Let’s work out, let’s go skiing!’ And I’m like, ‘Let’s not.’ After a 16-hour day, the last thing I want to think about is working out. I’m going to sit on my couch in my sweatpants eating ice cream and…rewatching The Office.”

Her family back in Maine have been a great support, especially in helping cut through red tape so she could continue her hormone treatment while filming abroad. She jokes about the difficulty of working with insurance in the U.S., living in Canada part of the year, and no longer being able to have her mom mail hormones across the border to her on set. “Look at me smuggling estrogen across the border,” the baby-faced Maines quips. “I am the face of crime.”

Maines’s new vampire movie, Bit, premiers soon. “It’s freaking great,” Maines boasts. “I play a transgender girl from Oregon who visits her brother who is an actor in Los Angeles, and she falls in with a gang of intersectional feminist vampires in Los Angeles — and it is amazing.”

Hollywood clearly has a new superstar on the rise. And to whoever is casting the new Avatar: The Last Airbender reboot, Maines says she’s waiting for their call. Oh, and she’s game to do a Star Wars flick too.

“Superhero and Jedi,” says the young starlet, exposing her inner geek girl. “Those are where the goalposts are.”

The Advocate Magazine.