#or when in doubt: blame mandarin

[richardsgraysons]

lazy sundays

prompt — your fiancé, dick grayson, is the love of your life. was. you think he’s dead, but in reality, he’s out there as a spyral agent. meanwhile, you start appreciating the little things more.

tags — reader got out of an ED, mental health issues. angst and comfort, dick grayson x fem!reader. sfw

jason todd was the one who was attracted to you first. he saw you at a wayne gala and thought you were the love of his life. he asked you out, and you immediately said yes, intimidated by the fact that a wayne was the one who noticed you.

dick didn’t even notice you, which you didn’t mind too much. jason was all that you needed. he was kind and funny but he had this really annoying behavior where he would scream at you in fights. like, scream. one night, things got heated and he left into the night, leaving you behind to go outside, no doubt to clear his mind.

you decided to take care of yourself and make it up to him, so, you had finished his laundry. when putting his clothes away, you noticed a very red helmet with another suit with keys in them. you would’ve thought that it was a cute cosplay prop if the keys didn’t open up a drawer with all sorts of guns in the bottom drawer.

you would’ve freaked out if the radio next to his guns didn’t just go static with —“fuck—nightwing here—wounded on fifth—.” and your blood went cold. jason todd? knew who nightwing was?

you didn’t even think about it, think if it was a trap. you took the radio and drove where nightwing said he was injured. nobody responded and you were praying that he was alive.

and that was when dick grayson, really, really saw you. saw your perseverance, your stubborn nature and how you always looked to the brighter sides of things even when he was stabbed in several places with a split rib and a gash to his head.

you were not a doctor, god no, you were in the beginning of your master’s degree, but with strength that rivaled a mother whose child was underneath a car, you managed to pick him up and put him in your car.

“so jason told you who I am? the little shit. he was supposed to talk to bruce before he revealed our identities. that’s what I get for having a love struck brother, huh?”

you stopped halfway and then looked at him in shock, your mouth open in a slight ‘o’. and he realized that you didn’t know, that your boyfriend of seven months was hiding things from you.

“just take me to bruce’s. say you know, and say I need help.” you let out a groan at it and press on the gas.

jason wasn’t to be found for the next few days. dick was though.

when he recovered and appeared at your doorstep with flowers and a sheepish smile, a cast and a boyish smile that felt like infidelity, your face flushed and you took them happily.

“thanks for saving me,” he said, and leaned against the doorway. unlike jason, his mannerisms and way of acting came easy, smoother, a better flow. and you fell so bad just thinking that. “may I come in?”

and against your better judgment, you stepped side. “mi casa es tu casa.”

his eyes twinkled at that. “tu casa es muy hermosa,” he said. “como el tuyo.”

“you know spanish?”

“I know mandarin, spanish, french, romansh, german, portuguese, hindi, japanese, and arabic. well, learning. dami’s teaching me that one.”

your jaw drops. “I just know english, my mother tongue, and high school spanish.”

“still better than 90% of america.”

that was how it started—he met you every so often, taking coffee out, mini golfing, kayaking, while jason grew ever so distant in the corner. you couldn’t blame jason for it, either. it wasn’t like you were making much of an effort to revive the relationship.

but everything changed that one night when jason asked you to go to a wayne gala with him. out of all his siblings, he had chosen the short straw this time. you said no—you didn’t want to go to another one of them and get hounded by paparazzi at this point.

and jason was fine with that. it wasn’t like he particularly liked going to galas anyways, so he understood your denial. until an hour later when on instagram in one of the more popular news sites, a viral photo of you and dick hugging in the rain together and staring at each other after getting a hole in one in a really hard mini golfing course started circling around.

“what the fuck is wrong with you? are you fucking him? don’t even answer that, I can tell. and even if you aren’t, I know you want to.”

“no, jason, what the fuck is wrong with you? I haven’t done anything with dick, nor do I want to. we’re friends.”

“you don’t underhand, y/n. I’m gonna be the guy that the papers make fun of once you leave me for him. so I’ll do what you don’t have the guts to. we’re done.”

your world didn’t shatter because of that, surprisingly. he moved out of your apartment. you watched gilmore girls reruns. you ate a lot of food. some cried tears, but nothing much. until one day, dick appeared at your door out of the blue.

"dick?" you raised an eyebrow, looking at him with an unsure look in your eye. "what are you doing here?" you were wearing your sweats with a dumbed down look in your eye that clearly stated you didn't know what the hell was happening.

"i'm in love with you. i'm sorry—but i can't stop thinking about you. your laugh is infectious and when you smile it's like a cloudy sky just turns back to sunshine—"

you stepped forward and kissed him. you thought the tabloids were full of shit, but you knew that they were right about this one thing.

after two years of dating, he had done a vigilante trip to india to track down some passages. while he was there, he went and bought a shiny ring. you'd marry him with paper rings. he planned a view of a skyline and it went perfectly, thank god.

but he died. he died and now you're sitting here in the apartment, staring at a photo of the two of you. you miss everything about him. the way he'd subtly add more food to your plate when you were having your ED. when he held you throughout the night after a panic attack even though he had patrol that day. when. he defended you from the paparazzi, when he screamed at jason right back when jason found out that you and dick were dating.

don't tell me you're staring at that damned photo. - tim

you look at your phone and sigh before closing down your phone. tim wouldn't understand. he wouldn't get it. how could he? it wasn't like he lost the love of his life. he was a robin. he knew loss. you didn't. he also lost his brother, you remind yourself, and that just makes it all worse.

you grab the photo and curl up in a ball in fetal position. you miss lazy sunday afternoons when you've eaten too much and that food is resting in your stomach. your head would be in your fiancé's lap and his hands would be in your hair and the minute he would move his hands from your hair or your back, you'd wake up, your body discomforted by the lack of touch. that's my superpower, you'd joke.

no, he'd respond. your superpower is being the most amazing and talented woman i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. i would do anything for you. your beauty rivals the stars in the night sky. i love you like how the moon loves the earth.

at the single thought of it, you curl up and sob, the tears racking down as you clench the photos to your heart. five months and thirteen days and you are not a single second away from properly healing. you'll never love again. you know that for a fact.

it's ten in the night when you wake up, and the couch is stained with tears. haley is right beside you, looking sad and sullen. she misses her best friend too, but she always hates it when her other best friend is crying.

"i haven't fed you? fuck," you swear before standing up. everything hurts. your heart feels too heavy. there's cuts on your wrists. you stare at them, the red from the blood dried up.

he also stares at them too. he vows that he's coming back no matter what.

[thistransient]

It is that time of year again, time for the birthday reflection.

We are getting real deep into 'not sure what I'm doing, cause I never thought I'd live this long' territory here lads. 'Don't compare yourself to other people, compare yourself to your former self', they say. Yeah, fair, in that case I'm doing extremely well, but unless I wear that shirt saying 'I used to be much worse', it does not help me much in social situations. (The kind where people ask with great concern exactly what it is that you do.)

I had more dissolving-friendship anguish than usual this year but I will say it felt like it was necessary to really assess my values and self-esteem, and create a space for change. I left my comfort zone, went to India twice and was rewarded with making a good friend (who never gets my postcards, idk if Taiwan Post sees "IND-" and sends them all straight to Indonesia, or if India Post is to blame here) , decided to put my Mandarin to the test by taking local community college courses (still doing okay in the second semester, the worst is the first day when the teacher asks with much trepidation whether I speak Chinese and I'm like otherwise I would not be here??). At some point I got used to doing visa runs and my quest for getting an ARC again went on the backburner, which I suppose is well enough because at this point I'm increasingly interested in obtaining dual citizenship (given the situation in the US for trans people), and the barriers are lower elsewhere.

I saw an illustration once that had a plant in a pot putting out leaves, captioned 'not moving, but growing', and I feel like I have been doing some stationary growing, but at some point one also outgrows the pot. On one hand I finally established a sort of livable routine and reasonable mental health status, amassed a plant collection (mostly from seeds + fruits), taken up the hobby of Postcrossing, and have been on HRT for 6 years now (yay), on the other I do not want to live on visa runs, take night classes and reside in a moldy shoebox apartment forever. (I am here because I was lazy about looking for housing but the hostel I was in was getting unbearable, so when my ex-friend was moving into the building and there was another room open, I decided to settle even though it did not meet the accommodation requirements I told myself I'd stand by. After all, it was only a 5 month rental contract. 3 years later, I suppose I've saved a lot of money on rent but at what cost... Hanging out in Singapore with my friend who has significantly higher standards (and budget) reignited my aspirations for more square footage, less mildew, and no scooters revving maniacally directly below my window, but can it defeat my foreshortened sense of future and tendency to catastrophise?). If I move somewhere more 'legit' shall we say, I will almost certainly need to sign a year contract, and hell if I know what I'm doing in the next six months even.

Of course I have this old unquenchable instinct down there which still says 'when in doubt, put everything in storage and go backpacking indefinitely! that'll fix you!' and I start to wonder if the brief-but-passionate escapist openness of the sort of people who frequent hostels might fill the social void with more instant gratification than slowly trying to find satisfying community amongst settled people, especially as a foreigner in an otherwise homogeneous society (where at first glance almost everyone assumes you can't speak the language). Do I need to leave in order to realise where I really want to be? Didn't I try that before, already? Is the real test this time whether I can dig in my heels and NOT uproot everything like a feral javelina?

Whatever I end up doing with this year of my life, I suppose it'll be interesting.

[vinylspinning]

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5 "Emperor" / Egmont Overture (1964)

I've yet to watch Ridley Scott's award-winning historical epic, Napoleon, starring Joaquin Phoenix and Vanessa Kirby, but it had just opened in theaters when I found this recording of Ludwig van Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5 bearing Bonaparte's portrait.

Nicknamed "Emperor," the concerto was of course dedicated to Napoleon ... NOT!

Anything but, because as Beethoven was putting the finishing touches on this celebrated work in 1809, Napoleon's army was laying siege to and bombarding Vienna, forcing the composer into hiding in his brother's basement to try and save what was left of his hearing.

In actual fact, the concerto was dedicated to young Archduke Rudolf of Austria, Ludwig's pupil and patron, who'd been forced to flee the city, so the composer would no doubt have been furious to learn it was later attributed to their mutual French tormentor. (*)

So much for "history," though I guess we shouldn't blame conductor Pierino Gamba, virtuoso pianist Julius Katchen (**), and the London Symphony Orchestra for the cover art chosen by London Records for these 1964 recordings.

As for the music, which I'll describe with the usual assistance of author Ted Libbey, it arrived near the end of Beethoven's 'Middle' or 'Heroic Period' (characterized by grand-scale works) and used the key of E flat because of its noble connotations.

The first of its three movements is one of Western classical music's largest in the sonata-form, at a whopping 578 measures, and sees the piano introducing bold themes for the orchestra to develop in a "monumental but still graceful dialogue of struggle and triumph."

The ensuing Adagio shifts the mood to hymn-like serenity and introspection, while the closing Rondo brings the concerto to a lively, energetic finale, as Katchen expertly tackles the piece's technical and emotional demands.

Wrote Libbey about this cornerstone of the piano repertoire: "It is a magnificent achievement, this assertion of the individual voice [the pianist] against a huge collective counterpart [the orchestra], and it fits well with Beethoven's personality."

'nuff said!

This album also tacked on Beethoven's 1810 Egmont Overture, possibly because it exalted a better model of heroic sacrifice in the Low Countries nobleman Lamoral, Count of Egmont, famed for taking a stand against oppression in the 16th Century.

Whatever the reason, it shares the bombast and power of Beethoven's 'Middle Period' and, thus, fits right in with the better-known Piano Concerto, while helping to redress the misplaced tribute perpetuated by the album's cover painting.

* Furthermore, back in 1804, Beethoven had publicly expressed his outrage over Napoleon's decision to crown himself Emperor by scratching out his name in the dedication of the Eroica Symphony.

** Yes, the same Julius Katchen who appeared in The Rolling Stones' infamous Rock and Roll Circus.

*** It was later adopted as the unofficial anthem of the 1956 Hungarian revolution.

More Classical Music: Béla Bartók’s The Miraculous Mandarin, Aaron Copland’s Symphony No. 3, Claude Debussy’s Prélude à L'Après-Midi d’un Faune, George Frideric Handel’s Water Music, Gustav Holst’s The Planets, Franz Liszt’s Piano Sonata In B Minor, Darius Milhaud's La Création du Monde, Moondog’s Moondog, Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, Luciano Pavarotti’s Favorite Tenor Arias, Sergei Prokofiev’s The Love for Three Oranges, Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10, Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, Edgard Varèse’s Complete Works, Heitor Villa-Lobos’ Bachianas Brasileiras, Antonio Vivaldi’s Le Quattro Stagioni, Richard Wagner’s Der Ring Des Nibelungen, Xenakis’ Metastasis, Frank Zappa’s London Symphony Orchestra, Vol. 1, Various Artists’ 2001: A Space Odyssey, Phases of the Moon.

[yuu-twartist]

💥 IT'S NOT OVERREACTING

[Trigger Warning: stalking, harassment, gaslighting]

I’m a 27-year-old from Taiwan.

I studied in Japan for a while, and now I’m just trying to make sense of the things I went through — and remember the parts no one else saw.

The photo was taken in July 2018, during my study abroad in Japan.

Couldn’t sleep the other night, ended up doomscrolling like usual.

Came across someone’s comic — she were sharing a few personal stories about being stalked or stared at in really uncomfortable ways by men. Two or three posts maybe.

And then, in the comments, someone just had to say:

“If it happened once or twice, okay, but this many times? Feels like the artist’s just being paranoid.”

I was furious.

Because sometimes it���s not that you’re overthinking.

It’s that you know exactly what that "off feeling" can turn into.

And yeah — it took me right back to 2018.

And again in 2022.

Two experiences I’ll never forget no matter how hard I try.

🇯🇵 2018: WHEN I WAS STUDYING IN JAPAN

In 2018, I was studying at a vocational college in Osaka that focused on ACG — anime, comics, and games.

Our class had students from Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Korea.

Things were pretty normal at first.

Then this guy from Hong Kong — let’s call him Q — started making everything uncomfortable.

His Japanese was a mess.

He often gave answers that had nothing to do with the question, and most of the time he didn’t even understand what the teacher was saying.

The school required foreign students to have at least N2 level Japanese, but he was clearly nowhere close.

At first, I honestly tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe he had trouble with social interaction.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to communicate well.

But over time, the things he did started getting more and more intense — and way past the line of just being “bad at socializing.”

🛑 IT WASN’T A MISUNDERSTANDING

We — the Mandarin-speaking students — actually tried talking to him.

We told him straight-up, in a language he could understand:

“Hey, your behavior is making people really uncomfortable.”

We weren’t being vague. We weren’t just avoiding him.

We said it clearly, directly, and more than once.

But every single time, he denied it.

Flipped the whole thing around and said we were misunderstanding him — or worse, that we were ganging up on him.

But it wasn’t just me who noticed.

Other classmates saw it too.

Even I, someone who usually tries to keep things chill, ended up snapping at him in front of everyone once.

I remember venting to my family about it.

They thought maybe he had some kind of condition.

Maybe he struggled with social cues or didn’t know how to interact properly.

And honestly?

If that had been the case, I could’ve had empathy for him.

But the harm he caused was real.

The people he stressed out were real.

I can try to understand someone — but that doesn’t mean I have to take shit from them.

🤔 I STARTED DOUBTING MYSELF

There were times I seriously wondered if I was just being too harsh.

Too sensitive.

Too unforgiving.

I kept thinking —

“Maybe I misunderstood him” “Maybe I wasn’t welcoming enough” “Maybe he was just lonely and didn’t know how to express himself”

And honestly?

That kind of self-blame eats you alive.

I hated how I kept trying to make excuses for him in my own head —

even when I knew how messed up it felt being around him.

But then I’d remember —

C was too scared to come to class.

Other girls were stressed out, tense, constantly looking over their shoulders.

Even some of the guys were on edge.

It wasn’t just me.

It was never just me.

And the fact that I still kept wondering if it was?

That’s what pisses me off the most.

🎯 C WAS HIS MAIN TARGET

C was a girl from Hong Kong who had known Q since language school.

Even back then, he wouldn’t leave her alone.

During a test, he told her to let him copy.

She said no.

And he actually said:

“Why won’t you let me look at your paper?”

After they both entered the vocational college, it got worse.

He’d block the door so she couldn’t get into the classroom.

Made sarcastic comments at her almost every single day.

This guy was 33 years old acting like a jealous kid in middle school.

It was pathetic and exhausting.

One day, she found all her files missing from the shared school computer.

Everyone else’s stuff was still there — only hers was gone.

We couldn’t prove it was him, but let’s be honest.

Everyone had the same thought.

😤 IT WASN’T JUST HER

H, one of the Taiwanese guys, sometimes stood up for C.

That made him Q’s next target.

One time while washing brushes, Q cut in line and whispered:

“Better watch yourself when you’re walking outside.”

Like… are you serious? Who talks like that?

A and J, two girls from Korea, said he stared at them all the time.

And not just a glance — like, full-on locked eye contact with that dead look that makes your skin crawl.

They’d try to ignore it and act normal, but you could see it was getting to them.

We all felt it — that tension, that pressure in the air whenever he was around.

🎥 RECORDING FOR VIDEO

One afternoon after class, A, J, and I were heading to the train station.

There was only one escalator down to the platform — and Q was already there, waiting.

We saw F and G, two Japanese classmates, nearby.

We quietly told them what was happening and tried to avoid him.

But he followed us anyway.

He got on the train, sat near F and G for a moment, and then made his way toward me.

I raised my voice, in both Japanese and Chinese:

“Don’t talk to me.”

I made it loud on purpose, so the people around would hear.

So they’d know he was bothering me.

He didn’t back off.

We moved to another train car — he followed again.

J took out her phone and started filming.

He actually tried to grab it.

Started yelling:

“You’re lying! You’re trying to frame me! I’m just trying to teach you girls how to behave!”

God, the "let me educate you" type is everywhere.

I snapped:

“What would we even get out of lying? You’re the one who keeps harassing us.”

J told him:

“If you stop following us, we’ll delete the video.”

And of course, he said:

“I wasn’t following you!”

Finally, he walked away — but not before throwing out:

“Don’t piss me off.”

M, one of our Japanese classmates, quietly reported the incident to train staff.

To this day, I’m still grateful she did. Eventhough Q was ran awy that time.

⚠️ HE KEPT TRYING TO INTIMIDATE US

We showed the video to our teacher the next day and explained the whole situation.

Thankfully, the school took it seriously.

Q later claimed he was going to sue A and J (spoiler: he didn’t).

He also tried to corner H and C again.

We ran straight to the faculty room to report it.

H said he’d stay there until a teacher came, and I stayed too — I wasn’t about to leave them alone.

Q and C started yelling at each other in Cantonese.

Then Q turned to H and said in Mandarin:

“What does this have to do with you?”

H was furious and jumped in immediately.

Eventually a teacher arrived and pulled Q aside.

A little while later, they came back and told us that Q would be expelled — though they couldn’t share any details.

It was over.

But by then, I was already mentally falling apart.

I couldn’t sleep.

I kept skipping class.

I couldn’t focus at work.

I was exhausted, burnt out, and constantly on edge.

I still feel sorry to the teachers and coworkers who had to deal with me like that.

🚇 2022: HE SHOWED UP AGAIN

Four years later, I thought it was finally over.

But at the end of 2022, I saw him again — on the MRT in Taiwan.

That day, I was taking the train from work to go to school and take a final exam.

(Because my Japanese diploma wasn’t recognized in Taiwan, I had to re-enroll in college from scratch — like a full reset, just to get a valid degree here)

Out of nowhere, someone sat down next to me.

He said hi, leaned in close, and started talking.

I heard his voice — and froze.

It was him.

I didn’t reply. Just kept my head down, hoping he’d shut up.

He kept talking anyway, saying stuff like:

“People really misunderstood me.”

I got off one stop before the transfer station, hoping to shake him off and take a different route.

He got off too.

I hid in the bathroom. Peeked out. He was still there, hovering.

I left the station. He followed me out.

Even tried to pull his mask down so I’d recognize him better, I guess?

At that point, my brain was yelling one thing:

“Get out. Get away. Now.”

I walked fast and called my family for help.

They were in a taxi heading somewhere else for the day, but the moment they got my call, they told the driver to change course and came straight to the MRT station where I was.

They also called the police.

I told the station staff what was going on. And finally — when the police showed up — he backed off.

My dad took me to school. I barely made it to the exam.

But the whole time, I was terrified the train doors would open and he’d be standing there again.

Originally, I was supposed to keep working through the end of the year.

But after that day, my family told me to quit early.

So yeah — I lost a few days’ pay.

Still pissed about that, honestly.

Not just because of the money — but because he got to take more from me. Again.

🧠 IT’S NOT PARANOIA

After that encounter on the MRT, I was shaken for days.

I thought I’d buried all of this.

I thought it was something I had survived.

But that’s the thing with trauma — it doesn’t stay buried just because you want it to.

It comes back. It shows up uninvited. It walks up and sits next to you on the train.

Sometimes I still ask myself:

“Was I just being too sensitive?”

But no. That’s not it. That question only exists because we’re taught to prioritize being nice over being safe.

If you’ve ever seen danger up close — if you’ve ever felt the moment when your body says “get out” before your brain catches up — you know.

That instinct? That discomfort? That gut-level fear?

It’s not paranoia.

It’s protection.

You’re not overreacting.

You’re just remembering too clearly.

[Note: This post is based on my real-life experience. Some sentences were edited for clarity with help from ChatGPT, but everything that happened is real.]

[nicklloydnow]

“The billionaires, Christian fascists, grifters, psychopaths, imbeciles, narcissists and deviants who have seized control of Congress, the White House and the courts, are cannibalizing the machinery of state. These self-inflicted wounds, characteristic of all late empires, will cripple and destroy the tentacles of power. And then, like a house of cards, the empire will collapse.

Blinded by hubris, unable to fathom the empire’s diminishing power, the mandarins in the Trump administration have retreated into a fantasy world where hard and unpleasant facts no longer intrude. They sputter incoherent absurdities while they usurp the Constitution and replace diplomacy, multilateralism and politics with threats and loyalty oaths. Agencies and departments, created and funded by acts of Congress, are going up in smoke.

(…)

The rulers of all late empires, including the Roman emperors Caligula and Nero or Charles I, the last Habsburg monarch, are as incoherent as the Mad Hatter, uttering nonsensical remarks, posing unanswerable riddles and reciting word salads of inanities. They, like Donald Trump, are a reflection of the moral, intellectual and physical rot that plague a diseased society.

(…)

As the death spiral accelerates, phantom enemies, domestic and foreign, will be blamed for the demise, persecuted and slated for obliteration. Once the wreckage is complete, ensuring the immiseration of the citizenry, a breakdown in public services and engendering an inchoate rage, only the blunt instrument of state violence will remain. A lot of people will suffer, especially as the climate crisis inflicts with greater and greater intensity its lethal retribution.

The near-collapse of our constitutional system of checks and balances took place long before the arrival of Trump. Trump’s return to power represents the death rattle of the Pax Americana. The day is not far off when, like the Roman Senate in 27 BC, Congress will take its last significant vote and surrender power to a dictator. The Democratic Party, whose strategy seems to be to do nothing and hope Trump implodes, have already acquiesced to the inevitable.

The question is not whether we go down, but how many millions of innocents we will take with us. Given the industrial violence our empire wields, it could be a lot, especially if those in charge decide to reach for the nukes.

(…)

I doubt Musk and his army of young minions in the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) — which isn’t an official department within the federal government — have any idea about how the organizations they are destroying work, why they exist or what it will mean for the demise of American power.

The seizure of government personnel records and classified material, the effort to terminate hundreds of millions of dollars worth of government contracts — mostly those which relate to Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI), the offers of buyouts to “drain the swamp” including a buyout offer to the entire workforce of the Central Intelligence Agency — now temporarily blocked by a judge — the firing of 17 or 18 inspectors generals and federal prosecutors, the halting of government funding and grants, sees them cannibalize the leviathan they worship.

They plan to dismantle the Environmental Protection Agency, the Department of Education and the U.S. Postal Service, part of the internal machinery of the empire. The more dysfunctional the state becomes, the more it creates a business opportunity for predatory corporations and private equity firms. These billionaires will make a fortune “harvesting” the remains of the empire. But they are ultimately slaying the beast that created American wealth and power.

Once the dollar is no longer the world’s reserve currency, something the dismantling of the empire guarantees, the U.S. will be unable to pay for its huge deficits by selling Treasury bonds. The American economy will fall into a devastating depression. This will trigger a breakdown of civil society, soaring prices, especially for imported products, stagnant wages and high unemployment rates. The funding of at least 750 overseas military bases and our bloated military will become impossible to sustain. The empire will instantly contract. It will become a shadow of itself. Hypernationalism, fueled by an inchoate rage and widespread despair, will morph into a hate-filled American fascism.

(…)

When revenues shrink or collapse, McCoy points out, “empires become brittle.”

“So delicate is their ecology of power that, when things start to go truly wrong, empires regularly unravel with unholy speed: just a year for Portugal, two years for the Soviet Union, eight years for France, eleven years for the Ottomans, seventeen for Great Britain, and, in all likelihood, just twenty-seven years for the United States, counting from the crucial year 2003 [when the U.S. invaded Iraq],” he writes.

The array of tools used for global dominance — wholesale surveillance, the evisceration of civil liberties including due process, torture, militarized police, the massive prison system, militarized drones and satellites — will be employed against a restive and enraged population.

The devouring of the carcass of the empire to feed the outsized greed and egos of these scavengers presages a new dark age.”

“Trump’s foreign policy worldview has been clear ever since he entered political life. He believes that the U.S.-created liberal international order has, over time, stacked the deck against the United States. To change that imbalance, Trump wants to restrict inward economic flows such as imports and immigrants (although he likes inward foreign direct investment). He wants allies to shoulder more of the burden for their own defense. And he believes that he can cut deals with autocrats, such as Russia’s Vladimir Putin or North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, that will reduce tensions in global trouble spots and allow the United States to focus inward.

Equally clear are Trump’s preferred means of getting what he wants in world politics. The former and future president is a strong believer in using coercion, such as economic sanctions, to pressure other actors. He also subscribes to the “madman theory,” in which he will threaten massive tariff increases or “fire and fury” against other countries in the firm belief that such threats will compel them into offering greater concessions than they otherwise would. At the same time, however, Trump also practices a transactional view of foreign policy, demonstrating a willingness during his first term to link disparate issues to secure economic concessions. On China, for example, Trump displayed a recurring willingness to give ground on other issues—the crackdown in Hong Kong, the repression in Xinjiang, the arrest of a senior executive of the Chinese tech company Huawei—in return for a better bilateral trade deal.

(…)

Although Trump’s ability to command the foreign policy machinery will be enhanced, his ability to improve the United States’ place in the world is another matter. The most prominent U.S. entanglements are in Ukraine and Gaza. During the 2024 campaign, Trump criticized Biden for the chaotic 2021 U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan, asserting that “the humiliation in Afghanistan set off the collapse of American credibility and respect all around the world.” A similar outcome in Ukraine would create similar political problems for Trump. In Gaza, Trump has urged Benjamin Netanyahu to “finish the job” and destroy Hamas. Netanyahu’s lack of strategic vision to accomplish this task, however, suggests that Israel will be prosecuting an ongoing war that has alienated many potential U.S. partners in the world. The reality is that Trump will find it more difficult to withdraw the United States from these conflicts than he claimed on the campaign trail.

Furthermore, the global rules of the game have changed since 2017, when existing U.S. initiatives, coalitions, and institutions still had a lot of juice. In the interim, other great powers have become more active in creating and bolstering their own structures independent of the United States. These range from the BRICS+ to OPEC+ to the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. More informally, one can see a “coalition of the sanctioned,” in which China, North Korea, and Iran are happy to help Russia disrupt global order. Trump may very well want to join some of these groupings rather than create compelling substitutes for them. His stated efforts to divide these groupings will likely fail. Autocrats might distrust each other, but they will distrust Donald Trump more.

The most important difference between Trump 2.0 and Trump 1.0, however, is also the simplest: Donald Trump is now a known commodity on the global stage. As the Columbia professor Elizabeth Saunders recently observed, “In the 2016 election, Trump’s foreign policy was somewhat mysterious. . . . In 2024, however, Trump’s actions are far easier to predict. The candidate who wanted to be the ‘madman’ and loved the idea of keeping other countries guessing has become a politician with a pretty predictable agenda.” Leaders such as Xi, Putin, Kim, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, and even French President Emmanuel Macron have seen Trump’s schtick before. Both great powers and smaller states know by now that the best way to deal with Trump is to shower him with pomp and circumstance, abstain from fact-checking him in public, make flashy but token concessions, and remain secure that by and large their core interests will be preserved. Trump’s negotiating style yielded minimal concrete gains in his first term; it will yield less than that in his second term.

Does all of this mean Trump 2.0 will just be more of the same? Not exactly. Trump’s reelection augurs two trends in U.S. foreign policy that will be difficult to reverse. The first is the inevitable corruption that will compromise U.S. policies. Former policy principals in prior administrations, from Henry Kissinger to Hillary Clinton, have profited from their public service through book deals, keynote speeches, and geopolitical consulting. Former Trump officials have taken this to a whole new level, however. Advisers such as Trump’s son-in-law and White House aide Jared Kushner and Richard Grenell, a former ambassador and acting director of national intelligence, leveraged the ties they made as policymakers to secure billions in foreign investment (including from foreign government investment funds) and real estate deals almost immediately after they left office. It will not be surprising if foreign benefactors approach Trump’s coterie of advisers with implicit and explicit promises of lucrative deals after their time in office—as long as they play ball while in power. Combine this with the expected role that billionaires such as Elon Musk will play in Trump 2.0, and one can foresee a dramatic increase in the corruption of U.S. foreign policy.

The other trend that Trump 2.0 will accelerate is the end of American exceptionalism. From Harry Truman to Joe Biden, U.S. presidents have embraced the notion that American values and ideals play an important role in U.S. foreign policy. This claim has been contested at various times, but promoting democracy and advancing human rights has been identified as in the national interest for quite some time. The political scientist Joseph Nye has argued that these American ideals are a core component of U.S. soft power.

U.S. policy blunders, as well as Russian “whataboutism”—deflecting criticism of one’s own bad behavior by pointing to another’s bad behavior—have eroded the power of American exceptionalism. Trump 2.0 will bury it. Indeed, Trump himself embraces a version of whataboutism when it comes to American values. Early in his first term he noted, “We’ve got a lot of killers. What do you think—our country’s so innocent?”

Back then, foreign audiences could rationalize that most Americans did not believe this, given that Trump did not win the popular vote. The 2024 election shatters that belief. During the campaign, Trump promised to bomb Mexico and to deport legal immigrants, called opposition politicians the “enemies from within,” and claimed that migrants were “poisoning the blood” of the country. Despite all this—or perhaps because of it—Trump won a popular majority. When the rest of the world looks at Trump, they will no longer see an aberrant exception to American exceptionalism; they will see what America stands for in the twenty-first century.”

“What does it say about a society when its scholars turn increasingly to studies of the downfall of civilizations, the end of empires, the concept of human extinction, and even “existential risk”? That scholarly attention in both Europe and America turned to something that was labeled “collapsology” in 2015, and an academic volume of Futures in January 2023 listed the existing literature on “societal collapse” as 361 peer-reviewed articles and 73 books since 2010? That the Wikipedia entry on “Existential Risk Studies” has 670,000 links? And that JSTOR, the basic digital library of academic journals worldwide, in 2020 listed 66,809 results for articles on “human extinction”–and in 2025 listed 153,885.

I don’t know about you, but to me it suggests that a lot of smart folks are worrying about something the majority of people sense is in the deep background of life but most don’t want even to think about, much less confront: Western civilization, and perhaps the whole of the world, faces an imminent end, with one possibility being a tragedy so vast—nuclear warfare, global overheating, overwhelming disease pandemics—that it ends human life on earth. And only scholars care.

One branch of this new wave of intellectual attention has been the study of the reasons for societal collapse, including a close study of the lifespan of empires and civilizations in the past. One exhaustive search by Luke Kemp, a BBC correspondent and a professor at the Cambridge University—get this—Centre for the Study of Existential Risk, was published in 2019, and he found an average lifespan, of societies from the Akkadian empire of the 24th century BC down to the modern age, of 336 years. It is very difficult to find an exact date for the “rise” of anything so complex as a civilization and often of its “fall,” though in the case of coinciding empires it is sometimes easier to find the date when one king or emperor comes to the throne and when the last such office existed, so such an exact figure must be taken as suggestive only.

That 336 figure suggests that underlying each civilization is an inherent fragility, and many scholars, following Joseph Tainter, whose definitive Collapse of Complex Societies came out in 1990, suggest that it is the inevitable complexity of such societies that leads to their fall. Civilizations begin with an aggregation of traits, each with some complications, and as they develop they tend to create larger societies, more developed governments, greater bureaucracies, multiple armies, and still a wider array of problems, until the whole edifice begins to stretch and crack. Collapse, says Kemp, is “a normal phenomenon for civilizations, regardless of their size and shape,” and greater size is not a defense “against societal dissolution.”

Or, taken another way, there are inevitable limits to the growth of civilizations, and once those limits are passed—a condition modern ecologists call “overshoot”—there is no survival possible. An interesting study on exactly those lines, Limits to Growth by a team of MIT scientists in 1972, showed by computer analysis that “if the present growth trends in world population, industrialization, pollution, food production, and resource depletion continue unchanged, the limits to growth on this planet will be reached sometime in the next one hundred years,” probably around 2020—30. An update by this group in 2004 found no reason to change this prediction—indeed, it argued that the case for overshoot was even stronger than before. Obviously there has been no change since then in humankind’s “growth trends,” so the limits are very near to being reached right now.

And how long do we have? Well, that 336 years figure for the duration of civilizations doesn’t help us much. In our society, what we may call Western civilization, 336 years ago was 1689, not a very significant year for either European or American history, and nothing about it to suggest the beginning of a fixed society. And if we regard our civilization as beginning in, say, the 16thcentury with the rise of nationhood, the Renaissance, the Reformation, and the beginnings of capitalism, we overshot 336 years a century ago in the late 19th-century. So that’s a meaningless number for us today.

It does suggest, however, a different number: the reformation began with the Lutherean theses in 1519; the high Renaissance may be dated from Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel in 1512 and his Laurentian Chapel in 1525; nationalism may be dated to the battle of Pavia in 1525 creating the Spanish state and the simultaneous end of the Peasants’ War; Durer’s Course in the Art of Measurement in 1525, the first book on mathematics written (in German) for the general public; Durer in 1516 celebrated the rise of European scholarship with a copper engraving of Erasmus, “the Prince of Humanism”; and the first publication of Galen’s classical book on treating diseases was published by the Aldine Press in Venice in 1515.

Thus it can be fairly said that the modern European civilization of which we are the inheritors today began in the early 16th century—500 years ago.

That figure 500 has been taken by other scholars as the general duration of civilizations, examples including the Ancient Egypt Old Kingdom, Minorca, Xia and Shang dynasties in China, Phoenicia, Etruscans, Roman Republic, Roman Empire, First Chera Empire in India, Early Chola Dynasty, and Parthian Empire. That fits nicely with our civilization—and thus predicts the beginning of the collapse as probably already having occurred, and 2025 as a fitting year for its terminus.”

[tauriatalksmonkeys]

you know what this is an excellent question—but i’m drawing a blank. past mission gone bad perhaps? just intrinsic dislike/distrust?

Why is Sparx afraid of water?

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[ratsoh-writes]

Could we get some random hcs for the all the horror bros?

Alrighty! How about we feature all the horror bros and one headcanon with kids ;)

Oak:

There’s a ton of young families and children in the neighborhood that all the horrors live in. And the kids are all notorious for bothering the horrors lol. Oak is no exception. There’s a running joke among the teenagers that if they run and jump at oak, he’ll drop whatever he’s carrying to catch them. The parents are always getting and worrying about him breaking something, but what they don’t know is that oak just shortcuts whatever he’s holding onto his kitchen table

One effect of oaks head injury is some color blindness. His vision is a bit greyed out so he struggles to see bright shades. But oak doesn’t care and will wear whatever. To remedy this problem, willow has slowly been replacing clothing items with neutral shades that always go with everything. That way his dumb older brother stops walking out looking like an Easter egg

Willow:

The family that helped oak and willow move in are willows favorite people in the neighborhood. The dad owns a gardening/landscapers business and does willows trees and bushes for him. In exchange, they get discounts at the bakery and willows baked for all their kids birthdays

Willow used to have basic square shaped glasses, but for his first Halloween he decided to get a long white beard and go as a typical wizard. And lilac and basil who the horrortale brothers had just started becoming best friends with, commented that the half moon glasses of his costume suited him better

Rust:

There’s a lot of kids in the nursery that also live in the same neighborhood as rust and noir. So if rust is outside working on his woodworks and models, he almost always ends up entertaining one of his nursery kids as they tell him all about their eventful day lol. He can’t help but indulge them though.

Rust doesn’t like wearing shirts to bed since he always feels too hot in them. He also tends to kick off the covers too. If rust ever got a SO, they would have to invest in a fan for the room

Noir:

Its an open secret in the neighborhood that he and willow have really bad back problems. So the kids are taught early that they’re not allowed to let noir or willow pick them up. This is a genuine concern because all the little kids are constantly tempted by the sweet skeletons and the prospect of being really tall for a few minutes. Especially since rust and basil are dirty enablers. Noir still secretly picks up some of the sassier kids when he’s out, even if his back punishes him for it later

Before the famine, noir would never have gone out looking anything less than his absolute best, but seeing every one suffer has really scraped off a lot of the pride that noir used to have. Now he’s fine making a run to the grocery store in a paint stained t shirt. It’s not like Walmart has a dress code

Lilac:

There was one time one of the neighbors kids had a friend over, and that friend didn’t believe that lilac only had one leg. How could he run that fast then?? So being a good mature adult, lilac yelled at them to catch, and gently tossed his leg to the screaming and laughing kids. None of them ever doubted him again after word got out lol

A lot of lilacs free time is spent strength training these days. He’s realized that his new body size will never have the speed it used to when he was Star, so lilac is looking to be the strongest skeleton instead. Well second strongest. They all know rancher has an unfair genetic advantage

Basil:

There was one time when basil was in his garden, and the kids were having a massive water fight. One dummy decided it’d be a great idea to squirt at the giant skeleton holding a hose. It was pure reflex that made basil turn and hose down the little sucker. But before he could try and apologize, the pack of kids declared war. And thus started the water fight of 2021. No one on the street was safe

As an online translator who has trouble speaking out loud, basil only works on converting written documents. He’s gotten into fan fiction though blame honey and his latest passion project is translating every mandarin game of thrones fanfic he finds into English. Basil is the hero we all need 

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

[jelly-pies]

Dancing From Now On

Read on AO3

Pepper remembered their first dance. Contrary to public knowledge, it had not been at the annual Stark Industries gala.

Tony and Pepper's first dance took place months before that, alone at the mansion, late after a long day of work. The music had been Pepper's idea, to relax. But the dance had been Tony's.

"Getting better, Potts." Somehow cheerier than usual, he spun her slowly around the workshop. "Nobody will ever know you had two left feet. Hardly believe it myself, if my toe wasn't still throbbing."

Pepper huffed. "Not all of us could afford dance classes, you know."

"Well, it's not that hard, see? We're just swaying." Tony pulled her in, an inch closer, meeting her eyes. And for one moment, Pepper was purely dancing with the friend she was secretly in love with—not the boss who depended on her, or the playboy whose one night stands she escorted out of the mansion every few weeks. Just Tony. "Just dancing."

Their casual flirting was one thing. But this was getting dangerously close to something else—so Pepper ended the moment. JARVIS stopped the music, and when Pepper looked back after collecting her things, Tony suddenly looked away as if he'd been caught staring.

Maybe he had.

"So, you're good?" Tony asked casually, hands fiddling with some tools he picked up. "No stumbling over anybody's feet at the next gala?"

"We're good." Pepper matched his light tone. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're very welcome, Ms. Potts."

"And Tony... " She paused at the door. Did she imagine that expectant look he sent her way, or was it just the lighting? "Um… that contract you still have to look over. Don't show up tomorrow without it."

"Which one?"

"Tony."

He chuckled. "I got it. Have a good night."

Maybe it was just the lighting.

"Good night," Pepper answered, and exited the room with deliberate steps.

She turned back before the landing. Tony was facing away, bringing up holo-screens, flexing his hands—and suddenly she remembered the feel of those calloused fingers against her own, drawing her closer.

Tony looked up. Pepper turned away, determined not to be caught staring.

But maybe she had.

Pepper remembered their first dance. And she remembered how it led to much, much more.

-

Their second dance, that one was at the Stark Industries Firefighter's Family Fund benefit. A backless blue gown, a little banter, an almost-kiss on the roof. Another moment Pepper ended before anything could begin, even though she half-wished something  would begin—had been wishing it those dreadful three months of Tony's disappearance.

As Tony left to get them drinks, Pepper turned away to hide a growing blush. She didn't see the way he looked back at her from the door.

Tony reentered the building, and didn't see the way Pepper looked after his retreating back, either.

-

Years later on another rooftop, after a disastrous Stark Expo, the kiss became real.

They even had a witness, who deadpanned, "You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

Tony put his arm around her as they faced Rhodey, and Pepper couldn’t help thinking how that gesture must make them look like a real couple. She found she didn’t mind. All of a sudden, plans of her resignation as CEO didn't seem so urgent.

Tony turned back to her as soon as Rhodey left and challenged, "How are you gonna resign if I don’t accept?"

Pepper laughed, letting the action release her anxiety and near-death stress and girlish romance. "I…" And Tony was leaning close. She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Tony, if I don't… we can’t…"

"Come on, it’s us. We’ll figure something out." And there was that look again. Pepper wasn’t so quick to blame the lighting this time. "Ms. Potts?" Tony took both her hands. "Pep?"

It was too late to stop this moment, and Pepper knew it. But the doubt must have still shown on her face because Tony took one look and continued, "Remember when we danced? The first time, Malibu? You crushed my toes about a hundred—"

"Please let that go."

"—but we made it work."

Pepper took a breath. "We did."

Tony smiled, eyes shining—that's how Pepper could always tell if his smiles were real. She could also tell that both of them were done holding back… whatever this was.

"We are pretty good at dancing," Pepper replied.

Tony couldn't see her face as they embraced, but if he did, Pepper was sure he could tell her smile was real, too.

-

A private night at Stark Tower after the New York attack, that was the third dance. Or fourth, or fifth, maybe. Pepper wasn't sure she needed to count anymore.

She was only sure of two things. Swaying together in their home, with JARVIS playing soft music overhead, her arms around the love she had almost lost—and had accepted she would come close to losing, over and over again, for the sake of saving the world—Pepper was only sure of these: that she wanted herself and Tony to have a thousand more dances to come.

And that she could never know which one would be their last.

-

They danced that night on yet another rooftop, after the events with the Mandarin.

They didn't dance after Ultron.

Or for several months after that.

But the next time Pepper and Tony finally held each other in their arms, they held on tighter, and neither let go for a long, long time.

-

This wasn't how Pepper imagined it, for several reasons.

Tony’s smile was different. There was a sadness in them that lingered like ashes, but he smiled anyway, holding her close—which was a feat with Pepper's growing belly, but they made it work.

There were fewer guests. Several seats they left vacant on purpose, scattered around the lakeside like lonely souls. Some people held the belief they were there, in spirit, and that's what mattered. Pepper wasn't so sure; pure sentimentality had prevailed on her to leave the seats out.

Apparently sentimentality ran high this evening. The band played the song she and Tony had first danced to, oh so long ago, in a mansion long since blown to bits, by an AI, a friend, long since gone.

There was no publicity in what had once been anticipated as the event of the decade. A single ray of sun through gray clouds instead of all-around sunshine, in what was supposed to be the happiest day of Pepper and Tony's life.

But the people they loved—those that were left—celebrated with them, and that was enough. A simple reception at their new house, and the wedding was over.

After the lake grew quiet and the stars came out, the newlyweds slow-danced through the night, just the two of them.

This wasn't how Pepper imagined their new life would start. But start it did, with a dance.

"Getting better, Potts," Tony whispered beside her temple, their heads pressed together.

"Not so hard without the floor length gown. I know that was my idea, but God, don’t let me do anything like that ever again."

Tony chuckled and spun her slowly until she faced away, then wrapped his arms around his wife, their four hands interlocking on top of her belly.

Pepper had long lost count of their dances. But she knew this was one she would always remember.

It was Tony who broke the silence. "You guys still here? Scoot."

Pepper turned where he was looking: Rhodey’s wedding presents on the mantelpiece, staring at them—two plushie seals. And she laughed. Tony could always make her laugh.

“Fighting over a grape?” Pepper recalled.

“I never really got that image, to be honest.”

“Hm.” She turned back to Tony, cupped his cheek, and leaned in. “Let’s see about that.”

-

"That’s it! You’re doing it!" Tony spun their daughter around until the song ended, and Morgan collapsed in giggles on the floor. Tony scooped her up and tickled her with his stubble, making the giggling grow louder.

"Dad!" Morgan laughed. "Mommy, save me!"

Pepper swiftly rescued the toddler, only to drop her on the couch and blow raspberries on her stomach a second later. "In this house—" another tickle, and Morgan squealed— "nobody—escapes—dancing!"

Morgan finally succeeded in pushing her away as FRIDAY started the next upbeat song, and soon all three were back on their feet.

-

“Not that it's a competition.” Tony walked in. “But she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh, does she?”

“You were somewhere on the low… six to nine hundred range.”

Tony could always make her laugh.

Even the night after the Avengers came to visit. The night their new life, that Pepper knew in her heart could never last long, started to melt away.

Tonight there was no music, no dancing. Only the crackle of the fireplace, the weight of the future, and Pepper’s words hanging in the air— "But will you be able to rest?"

Tony didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to.

But Pepper held his hand, and Tony kissed her cheek. And when they finally went to bed, they held each other tighter.

-

Tony held her hand, and Pepper kissed his cheek. "You can rest now."

Tonight there was no dancing.

-

Two cylindrical compartments stood along the garage wall, one of them forever to be empty. In the other, Pepper put her Rescue suit away by herself. Crossing the room, her fingers couldn't help lingering over Tony's reserve helmet—Tony's desk—Tony's tools—Tony's presence. She could always feel it in his workshops.

Their first dance had been in his workshop.

The memory jolted her, pulling Pepper's eyes back to the last gift Tony left: her Rescue suit slumped in its compartment, looking as battered as she felt. Pepper remembered what it was like to take the suit to battle. To fight side by side with her husband, gauntlets firing in sync, guarding each other's back. A team to the end.

Did that count as a dance? Because otherwise, Pepper realized, she didn't remember the last time she and Tony danced.

She remembered their first, though—would always remember it. JARVIS’s song, their wedding song, strained in her ears—she could almost feel Tony's calloused fingers around hers—dancing in his workshop late at night.

But in this workshop, on this night, Pepper could only cry.

-

Pepper still danced.

She danced with Rhodey, and they leaned on each other, the way they had learned to do long ago.

She danced with Happy, bouncy little head bangs as they cooked Christmas dinner together, and for a moment the house was full of music again.

She danced with Peter, years later at his wedding, whispering "We’re so proud of you" in his ear.

She danced with her daughter. Morgan always pulled her to her feet whenever a lively song came on the radio— "In this house, nobody escapes dancing!" And they laughed. And they danced.

Pepper still danced. Just not with the one person she most wanted to dance with again.

-

When years had passed, and Morgan was grown, and the house was quiet most hours of the day, Pepper developed the habit of sneaking out on the balcony on clear nights, and looking up at the stars.

Some of her favorite dances with Tony had taken place under the stars. Like the rooftop. And their wedding.

Pepper didn’t remember which dance had been their last. But she remembered the first. And the second. And the thousands that came after that. Maybe that was enough.

In the quiet of the lake house, with only the strains of their wedding song echoing in her ears, and the stars above her, forever her witness—Pepper danced.

-

-

- "Ang Huling El Bimbo (The Last [Dance])," The Eraserheads

Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw

Sa panaginip nalang pala kita maisasayaw

(All of my dreams are suddenly gone

Only in dreams can we dance from now on)

[princessjungeun]

The One That Got Away: Yiren x Reader

Request: hi, love! sorry for responding late, but for the everglow scenario, can it be where they see their ex-s/o that they see at a music show, they still have feelings for them, but they have moved on? i don’t really know if that’s a good explanation.

I put a slight twist on it...I can redo it if you don’t like it 🥺

“Summer after high school, when we first met”

You met Yiren on the first day she arrived in Korea. She was sixteen when you two met on the first day of school. She spoke no Korean but luckily you knew Mandarin so you immediately be friended her. She was the only other trainee in school besides you.

We make-out in your Mustang to Radiohead. And on my eighteenth birthday, we got matching tattoos.

You remembered the day she confessed to you. The broken Korean she spoke, you thought you misunderstood. That day she became your first kiss, and you were hers. You remember how she held your hand, kissing your knuckles softly as you got a tattoo to remember your favorite grandpa. This was her way of comforting you when you were in physical pain.

Used to steal your parents liquor and climb to the roof. Talk about our future like we had a clue

You remember how you’d sneak her snacks and treats while she was being forced to diet. You never had to diet, you’d even save meals to give to her. She’d sneak out of her dorm to see you at night. You both running to the Han River to sit and talk about your future plans and dreams.

Never planned that one day I'd be losing you

You remember her face the day she came to you and told you she didn’t want to be together anymore.

In another life, I would be your girl. We keep all our promises, be us against the world

You hung onto those memories knowing that she’d one day return. Hoping she’d come back to you saying she made a mistake.

In another life, I would make you stay. So I don't have to say you were the one that got away. The one that got away

You wonder what you could have done different. Should I have kissed her more, told her I love you more often? What was it that I didn’t give her? You’d wonder days, weeks after.

All this money can't buy me a time machine, no. Can't replace you with a million rings, no

You wish you could go back in time, relook at everything you ever said or did to and around her. You wanted answers. You missed holding her in your arms as she slept soundly, like an angel.

I should'a told you what you meant to me, whoa. Cause now I pay the price

You pointed the blame to yourself. You knew you were the reason, it wasn’t her. You should have confessed over and over so she never doubted you. You knew she left because she didn’t think you loved her. However, the real reason she left was because your company came to her, and threatened your potential ability to debut. She knew it was your dream to be an idol, so she let you slip from her grasp.

In another life, I would make you stay. So I don't have to say you were the one that got away

You stood in front of the trash can in your backyard. You watched as the flames swallowed every picture, sweatshirt, love letter, and stuffed animal you received from Yiren. Tears stung your eyes watching everything be consumed by fire.

The one that got away

Yiren peeked through the tall fence that wrapped around your backyard. The small hole she peered through gave enough space so she could see your figure standing in front of the fire. She watched as you waited for it to extinguish itself. Tears running down her face, wanting to run back and tell you she still loved you. With all the strength she had left in her body she threw the note she wrote to you over the fence.

The one that got away

You felt something light tap your head. You picked the crumpled up paper off the grass. Immediately you recognized the handwriting:

I didn’t want to end it this way. My first love, thank you for everything you gave me. You’ll always be in my heart. Congratulations on your debut.

-Yiren

You dropped the paper on the ground and sprinted to the fence. Flinging open the fence gate you looked around for the small girl. Only seeing a single white rose and a note tied to it:

I’m sorry.

You looked down the street and saw a small figure running away, much too far to follow now. You knew it was her. It was your Yiren, your first love.

The one that got away

[atopearth]

Piofiore: Fated Memories Part 1 - Nicola Francesca Route

Okay, I pre-ordered this game because I loved the art and I have a secret fetish (not so secret anymore now) for mafia stuff LOL. There's just something about it that makes me love it even if it's trashy, I guess it's the setting that always amuses me. Anyway, Gilbert looks the hottest to me but it seems like you can only do his route last? It's okay, let's see how this goes~~ The lawlessness and how the different Mafia families control respective territories is what I dig~ I hope this will give me what I wanted from Ozmafia loll. Omg wow, Elena and everyone is so pretty as well. Anyway, it's kinda awkward to hear them call the heroine Lili (her name is Liliana) because my name is Lily! Lol! I'm not a good girl like her though hahaha, she seems to be a nice girl that's grateful to the church for raising her and wants to do the same for all the other children. Is Roberto not an LI? I mean, he looks pretty good too...🥺 Oooh, I was planning on doing the Nicola route first but I didn't even realise this fluffy kinda curly hair guy was him! I'll take him, he's pretty cuteee. I love how he winked at Lili and she got a bit startled and bumped into Roberto making her drop her lemons, it was gentlemanly of Nicola to come and pick it up for her. On the other hand, Roberto is such a stick in the mud lolll, like dude, it's cool to want to change things but you wanna understand the system here? Anyway, Nicola seems like a nice pushy person haha.

Ooh these meanwhile stories/reels are pretty cool! I like them since you get to see what other people are doing~ Anyway, omg I was wondering why Yang sounded familiar, it's Accelerator's (To Aru Majutsu no Index) VA!! I didn't like Yang's appearance but I might have to change my mind now because I love his voice hahaha. Okay, not good, I have a soft spot for Orlok too, not only is he hot and cute at the same time, his voice is so demure but warm, I love it!! I can't choose my favourite🤣 Lmao, I'm using a walkthrough and everyyyy answer I pick is different from what should be picked hahaha, I guess Nicola is not for me hahaha! Anyway, I was wondering why Gilbert's voice sounded familiar and it's the same VA as Okita Souji from Hakuouki! Okita wasn't my favourite though, character and voice wise so hmm, but I do love Gilbert's looks the most haha. Let's see, it's funny but it seems like everyone I was not interested in (Yang and Orlok) when I first picked up the game are now the ones I'm most interested in hahaha. Dante and Gilbert's looks are the best though~ Anyway, back to the story, Gilbert seems like a much more chill mafia boss than I thought haha. Omg when Elena got stabbed, I was like nooo, not the sweet pretty girl!! Thankfully, she didn't die because of Orlok saving them and taking Elena to the hospital. Lmao at Orlok asking Lili if she can run and then deciding that actually it's faster if he just carries her lol.

Well, I'm glad Nicola saved her before those thugs got to her, but dang, he was ruthless. Hmm, assuming that Lili and Elena were targeted for human trafficking just like all the other girls that supposedly "left" the town to go to city, why did those thugs say they'll get in trouble for doing it to nuns?🤔 Because they know that the Falzone family protect the church since they believe that they have what they possess right now because of the blessings of the land, so the Falzone family would take action if they hurt nuns? But then in that meanwhile story, they attacked the Falzone family members so...it can't be that simple? I would assume the most obvious answer is that another family or outsider is killing all these people rather than the Lao-Shu but we shall see~ How sweet of Nicola to stand guard for her to sleep peacefully! I still think there's something about Nicola that I can't trust right now, but having someone warm up some milk and honey for you, lull you to sleep and help you vent out your fears from everything that just happened is something I can't help but be touched by. It felt very comforting to see Nicola do all that for Lili.

Omg, is it just me or does Nicola look better without a hat, and Dante looks better with a hat?? Hahaha. Aww Leo sounds so cute and thoughtful, he'll be a nice bodyguard for Lili. I'm so hungry with all the descriptions of the good food lmao, all the mains and desserts sound so yummm🥺🥺 Aww, Nicola doesn't like lardo/pork lard but he still ate the broiled bream Lili made with it🥺 So, um just because the abductions stopped, the police closed the case on it? Like, don't they need to find a culprit or if there's something like a syndicate? Anyway, Roberto needs to get off his high horse, especially since he seems to think the police has no fault in anything and that the Mafia are bad because they're the Mafia more than actually finding reprehensible actions with them, but I guess the Mafia's actions make themselves seem above the law so I can't blame Roberto, but he really needs to reel in his emotions and thoughts if he wants to properly deal with them lol. Honestly though, Lili said Nicola was surprisingly harsh with how he dealt with the subordinate that let Roberto into the estate, but I don't think he was harsh at all, he didn't even punish him lol, and really, Nicola's right, Roberto had no business coming in and should not have been allowed in for no reason, especially if anything happened. Nicola is such a tease though, making Lili feed him the crostata in appreciation of him loll (btw it was nice of Lili to bake something for Dante to thank him for allowing her to stay here so comfortably).

Awww, although he kinda took her off guard, it was cute how Nicola laid on her lap to rest since he hasn't had much time to sleep lately considering all the family members that have been killed recently. Stylistically, Yang looks pretty dang cool, but omg, not sure what Lao-Shu would be in Chinese or if it's made up but it keeps making me think of mice because that's how you pronounce mice in Mandarin hahahaha; Yang the master of the mice family hahaaha🤣 I'm not sure why exactly the Lao-Shu or whatever in particular want to kill Lili but I can understand why she begged Dante and Nicola to let the guy go even though she nearly died. On the other hand, it's nice to see more of the "less nice" parts of being in the Mafia haha, I do feel sorry for the guy since he seemed to have done it for his family, but I don't at the same time because that means he chose to endanger the whole Falzone family for them, I'm sure that with them, the Mafia family should be just as important as their own little family or even more important, and technically, instead of betraying Dante and them, he should have told them what was happening. Him betraying the Falzone basically means that he was willing to potentially give up on their lives to save his own and his family's and that definitely shouldn't be tolerated. Regardless though, it must have been shocking for Lili to see Nicola so ruthless and cut the guy's fingernail and ear off. Honestly, at this point though, I wouldn't be surprised if the one that's causing all this turmoil and killing Dominico (one of the higher up members in the Falzone) is actually Roberto lol.

I can imagine Nicola betraying the family, but I don't feel like he would ever betray Dante. But that CG of him pointing the gun at Lili was very pretty I have to admit haha. Anyway, it's amusing to think that the Visconti Family are kinda branched off from the Falzone Family after disagreeing with how the Falzone prioritise blood kin for the bosses/positions, I wonder how Gilbert feels about Dante and them. I can't say that I like the Nicola and Lili pairing but I do admire Lili for doing her best to try to communicate properly with Nicola and understand him despite his harshness towards her. LMAO at the corny scenario Gilbert made up to make Nicola protect her and show he really cares for Lili. Kid Dante is so cute, I can see why Nicola would want to protect him like a big brother🥺 Anyway, I really like how Lili is the one initiating talks with Nicola to try and get any opportunity to get to know him better, like in a sense she does feel a bit weirdly desperate and too nice, but he's the only one she really knows here and she's always appreciated how kind he was back at Falzone, so for him and for her current situation, it would be beneficial to try and understand his actions better haha. Hmm, so I guess the reason Nicola wants to destroy the Falzone family is because he wants to free Dante from the Mafia since Dante always hated being forced to do all these things as a child.. Aww, did Dante bring along the traitor Falzone member to the Burlone Mafia meeting to indirectly tell Nicola that he'll forgive him if he comes back?

Honestly, I feel sorry for Marco having to deal with the shit Roberto causes all the time, sometimes I think back to when I first started the game thinking Roberto was hot and needed a route, and now I kinda regret even that thought because he's such a shit LOL. Anyway, although I feel sorry for Marco, I have to admit that it feels weird with Marco's experience and keen eye to neglect how deluded Roberto is getting. It also annoys me to think about those Rome higher ups that threw Roberto here to "learn something", like uh, I don't know what logic you went with, but for someone so hell bent on his own form of justice to go to a lawless area sounds like a crappy idea. Anyway, it was obvious that Roberto was going to shoot Nicola and Lili would shield him, it's just nice that her arm only got grazed, but that's probably already too much for Nicola lol. I have to agree with Yang that in the long term, it's much easier to just kill off Roberto now, and they're really too soft to let this crazy dog run around, I mean I doubt it's difficult for any of them to "kill him" without a trace to them. Okay, I expected the kiss but it was still nice to see, so cute lol🥺 I guess at least now Nicola can kinda understand to treasure himself and his own life more through Lili wanting to protect him with her life. OKAY, I am so sad, I expected it when Roberto appeared, but it was so sad to see him kill Marco because he protected Dante. I know Yang kinda "manipulated" him into delving deeper into his self-serving justice, but really, I'm sure he would have come to this point himself anyway because he obviously doesn't listen to others and definitely needs some counselling more than anything, but geez, poor Marco, he deserved to reach his retirement🥺

It was nice to see Nicola finally properly open up to Lili even though what he said is something we already knew. Her confession was cute~ Honestly, I find it kinda silly how easily the people have been swayed into thinking that Nicola is actually responsible for every killing and bad thing that has happened just through Roberto's lie saying Marco's last words were that Nicola did it (and rumours), since I personally feel like regardless of him being a traitor or not, it's a bit ridiculous to pin it on him other than because of your personal feelings. Anyway, Roberto's arrogance makes me want to punch him in the face every time he talks now and I hope his downfall will be satisfying loll, but yeah, as expected, Roberto was the serial killer too. I love how chill Gilbert is though, just strolling to Dante's place like they're friends haha. I also love how much both Dante and Nicola love and care for each other that they'd rather risk their own lives than the other's. I'm happy that Dante told Nicola to go and protect Lili from Roberto, since at least Dante can take care of himself and he's got the Visconti, but Lili doesn't really have anyone she can trust. Well, Roberto gets more and more insane by the second~ I feel sorry for the poor innocent people he shot... Anyway, lmao at the typo when Nicola shot Roberto, way to kill the supposedly cool scene! Hahaha. Otherwise, I'm not too sure about the publishing saying Nicola's betrayal was all done to lure out the killer and was actually a joint operation between the Falzone and Visconti, like why would the serial killer care if he's a traitor or not? Anyway, considering how the Lao-Shu are gone after this debacle, was it really smart or worth it for Yang to have used Roberto for his schemes knowing how crazy the guy was? It was so cute how Gil kept teasing Nicola about going back to face Dante and being honest with him about why he betrayed the Falzone. I'm glad he could finally tell him, and I'm happy that Dante understood his intentions pretty much immediately. As expected though, even though Dante does feel bound by his bloodline and the family, the Falzone will always be his home and it is a place and gathering of people he'll want to protect no matter what, and that includes Nicola, so rather than feeling like his freedom is being sacrificed now, I'm sure he's happy that he has so many people who believe in him and want to follow him.

Awww I thought the ending was going to give another kiss CG when he asked if he could kiss her! I'm so sad loll! Okay, all good, that best ending CG was hot hahaha. As for the good ending, I'm not sure why Nicola had to kill Roberto like that when he already saved Lili? I felt like there were many other ways to handle that situation and he just took the fastest one that was most disadvantageous to him. Regardless though, Nicola and Lili running away from Burlone and finding happiness going from place to place is pretty cute in its own way, like look at that CG!! Lili has impeccable hair and clothes even on the run, they're obviously having the time of their lives hahaha. Omggg, that tragic ending, I knew Nicola would go a bit nuts after finding out that Dante is dead, but that ungrateful guy!! He literally killed Gil (although Gil should have known better to guard against him imo since he knew how important Dante was to him), like I know it was a mutually beneficial relationship, but c'mon, Gil is like the nicest and most courteous Mafia boss and treated him so well, ugh. I won't forgive you, Nicola. Although, I do have to say, our Mafia bosses all sure died easily! I know it was for the dramatic effect but loll. Hmm, I feel like since Dante died, Nicola is crazy enough to go back to the Falzone family just to kill everyone in it to kinda take revenge on them for being the reason for Dante's death (edit: I kinda wanted this kind of tragic end XD). Honestly, Lili shouldn't enable Nicola especially considering how he's basically raping her but I guess it's not like she can escape anymore anyway since she knows that she doesn't really have a choice, and Nicola told her that too. Okay, the tragic ending was more tame than I thought because I honestly thought he was going to kill everyone hahhaha, he only held Lili in the cage of her room never allowing her to meet anyone so that he can always protect her, which although creepy is understandable since if someone like Dante could die, he's gotta protect someone super frail like her, pretty nice CG too. Bad ending 1 is kinda confusing though, like why did Nicola need to kill her when he was betraying Dante? I'm sure he could have escaped regardless lol, like umm, don't you like her?!

Overall, Nicola and his route was all right but definitely not a favourite. I guess I'm just not into him, although I do love his relationship with Dante and how much they both care for each other, it was probably the best part of the route, because it was so much more touching and heartwarming than any of the other romantic scenes with Lili haha. I guess for Nicola, Lili just had to be really accommodating with him and chase him all the time, but I feel like the story lacked showing why Lili had such conviction to believe in Nicola like that and be with him no matter how he treated her. Like, aside from being flirty, a bit pushy and nice, he really didn't do enough for me to think, yeah, he's worth all this trouble haha. His reason for betraying the Falzone was understandable and of course quite one-sided but you could see why he came to that conclusion so I liked how much he thought about Dante and how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. Oh, and I thought there was going to be some flashback to why he seems to have liked her since the beginning but I guess not LOL. Anyway, the last part was probably the weakest part plot wise imo, but it was okay. Otherwise, I'm sad that Roberto turned out to be a crazy guy hahaha. 

[flightfoot]

Now finally, the opportunity to reconcile and regroup. The kids have been put through some scary, traumatizing experiences in previous chapters, and they need to talk it out, to have that catharsis.

AO3/FFN

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

Marinette fell to the ground in a heap. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

WAIT.

SHE SHOOK HER HEAD.

SHE COULD CONTROL HERSELF AGAIN.

What had even been up with that?

She looked around. Dread pooled in her stomach.

Surrounding her were gleaming white walls with a white floor and ceiling. In front of her was a tall, ornate door.

She’d never been here before.

She didn’t know how she got here.

Last she remembered…

She and Adrien happily devoured their Sweetheart ice creams themed after each other, Alya and Nino doing the same on the other side of the picnic blanket. They still needed to keep their dating a secret, but well… there was no fooling Andre. When Marinette had asked for ice cream for herself and a friend, he beamed, gave her a wink, and handed over the two ice creams.

Considering the dark chocolate cat ears on hers, she wondered just how deep Andre’s magical powers went. Tikki and Fu had referenced there being other magical forces in the universe besides the Miraculous, but hadn’t gone into detail beyond that. Probably for the best. Between fighting akumas and fighting homework, along with her hobbies, she didn’t really have the time nor mental capacity to learn much about magic.

Thankfully, Fu had decided to primarily train Nino as a Guardian candidate, though he still filled Marinette (as well as Adrien and even Alya now) on some of the more immediate need-to-know stuff, like the capabilities of each of the Miraculous, in case one of them needed to hand them out or use them in an emergency.

She hadn’t realized what a nagging fear of being pushed into Guardianship she’d had until that weight was lifted. Especially since giving UP being Guardian, apparently often meant losing memories related to the Miraculous – even if only tangentially related. There was a way to pass on the role WITHOUT losing memories, but Fu hadn’t been told what it was before the Order was devoured.

With the Order now restored, they wanted to drop by at some point. Well… she, Adrien, Alya, and Nino did at any rate. Fu still carried a lot of guilt about what happened all those years ago. Even if the temple, monks, and Miraculous were restored, those years were gone. Everyone in the temple would have to adjust to a world nearly two hundred years ahead of what they were used to.

He said he’d still go, but he clearly felt some reservations about it. She wished she could help, but… well, beyond just being there to support him, she didn’t know what else she could do.

To carry that level of guilt for so long… she couldn’t even imagine.

At least if Fu felt like he couldn’t go at the last minute, technically he wasn’t required. While she highly doubted that Tibetan monks from the 1800s would know French, it was highly likely that at least a few of them would be fluent in Mandarin Chinese, so Adrien could translate. Or the kwamis could if need be (though they’d rather not detransform right away, so they were a definite second-place option).

She smiled warmly as she took another lick of her ice cream.

…Why did it taste like salt?

Frowning, she looked at her friends, ready to ask them if their ice creams had any weird flavors she hadn’t remembered Andre mentioning.

But they weren’t looking at her, or even each other.

But instead overhead and a bit behind her.

She just had time to turn around before the sparkling white particles enveloped the four of them.

Ok, so that was weird.

Maybe it was an akuma or some of that other magic Tikki’d alluded to.

Wait, Tikki!

Her hands flew to her ears.

THE EARRINGS WERE GONE.

Oh CRAP.

She really hoped this was a non-akuma. If Hawkmoth got her and Chat’s Miraculous…

*THUNK* *THUNK* *THUNK*

Marinette whipped around.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino were on the ground, looking like they’d arrived much the way she had.

Alya fidgeted, then collapsed into tears, scooting away from everyone else looking terrified.

Adrien seemed to be in slightly better shape… but only slightly. A look of fear passed over his face when he saw Marinette but it was quickly quelled, though she could still see a spark of nervousness in his eyes. He didn’t seem to have any negative reaction to Nino and Alya at least.

As for Nino, he appeared to be in the best shape. He looked calculating, frowning at everyone and ready to move at a moment’s notice, but he didn’t seem like he’d collapse at the slightest provocation.

What had HAPPENED to her friends?

“Alya?” she called. Alya seemed to be in the worst state, so best to start with her first.

“St-stay away!” Alya scooted back, shaking her head. “I don’t know when that- that THING will take over me again! I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt anyone, so wh-why, why-!?”

Her voice trailed off into muffled sobs as she curled into a ball.

Hesitantly, she crawled over to her. Nino and Adrien watched her suspiciously, as if afraid Marinette would attack her.

As they took in her expression, the looks softened.

“You’re the real Marinette, aren’t you? Not- not an evil doppelganger?“ Adrien asked hopefully.

Evil doppelganger?

Had they been trapped the way she’d been?

“It’s really me,” she confirmed, inching closer to Alya. Alya looked up briefly, but didn’t flinch away. “What happened to everyone?”

Haltingly they took turns telling their stories. Alya went last, pausing several times while telling it, her voice devolving into sobs. Not that Adrien or Marinette had managed to get through their stories without needing to take a minute.

Only Nino’d been able to get through his without pause, likely because he hadn’t experienced the same sort of thing the others had. He seemed less traumatized, and more mad.

Alya had calmed down slightly since they’d started. Whatever the thing that’d made each of them be horrible was (well, aside from Nino apparently), it seemed to have left them for the moment.

Which meant it was probably time to bring up MORE bad news.

“…You guys don’t happen to be hiding your Miraculous, do you?”

Or Nino could bring it up. Come to think of it, he HAD glanced at his wrists a few times…

Terror flashed through Adrien’s and Alya’s eyes as they frantically checked their Miraculous’s usual resting spots, coming up empty.

“He’s- he’s gone,” Adrien murmured, staring off into the distance.

“Trixx too!” Alya cried, starting to hyperventilate. Marinette didn’t blame her. She’d only kept it together this long by slipping into ‘crisis mode’, and with how much more intense Alya’s nightmare was over everyone else’s (though she had a feeling Adrien may have been downplaying his own nightmare), she was surprised she was as focused and alert as she was.

She herself had to keep shoving Tikki out of her mind – something she hated doing, but she’d be no good to Tikki if she was collapsed on the ground having a panic attack, nor any good to the others. She had to remain strong.

“Ok so, I know this looks bad. We’re stuck in a blank white room placed by a mysterious force that can hijack our bodies, with no clue how long we’ve been here, how long we’re GOING to be here, where we are, how to get out, how to get food and water so we don’t DIE, where our kwamis are, whether whatever took them has put them in a nightmare of their own or rewritten reality or is destroying the world and our family and friends and we can’t do anything about it and maybe they’re already gone and-! ”

Pressure enveloped her on all sides.

Oh.

Maybe she wasn’t quite as together and calm as she thought.

But… maybe she didn’t need to be.

“We’re here,” Adrien told her, arm wrapped around her. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out together.”

“I’ve got you, girl,” Alya said

They all pressed up against her – though she noticed that Alya kept her arms mostly behind the two boys, squishing them all together in a group hug but keeping herself from being in a position where her hands could easily reach her.

She really, REALLY wanted to punch who or whatever force made Alya afraid that her own BODY would rebel against her and make her hurt her. She had a feeling that Alya wouldn’t be able to force herself to do so, considering the violence she’d been forced into committing – but she herself had no such qualms. Though Nino might beat her to the punch.

“The four of us are a team, dude. We’re not going to let some messed-up fake worlds stop us.”

She was so very glad Nino hadn’t had to go through the same things they had – what he went through was bad, but less outright traumatizing, and they NEEDED someone who was slightly more emotionally stable right now. Slightly.

The four of them just hugged for a moment, feeling the confirmation that yes, they were all here, they were all alive.

But after a few minutes they needed to, regrettably, break apart slightly and talk more about what’d just happened – though they didn’t separate completely, and continued to sit cuddled up against each other.

“Maybe if we look more deeply into what happened in our nightmare worlds we can figure out what’s going on?” Marinette suggested. “Plus… well, probably best to talk it out some more. I don’t think we’ll be able to distract ourselves from them – not with still being trapped in whatever-this-is – so best to deal with it now, before we have to move on.”

The others nodded, glancing quickly at the looming door before looking away.

Alya fidgeted, shuddering slightly. “The- the level of violence and hatred running through that… that mind prison I was trapped in, in mine… I just… it was so toxic and foreign and I was just along for the ride and couldn’t stop and… and…!”

She made choking noises, unable to force more words out.

Marinette cuddled closer to Alya, Adrien and Nino joining her, giving silent encouragement.

A moment later, Alya’d calmed down enough to continue. “I- I felt how much I HATED you, Marinette. How much I just wanted to hurt you. I know it wasn’t me, wasn’t my emotions, but I still… they were still running through my brain, I still felt them, even though they didn’t belong to me. And I still felt that Marinette’s struggling and saw her terror. When I close my eyes I still see her looking back at me, and I’m terrified that at any moment, that thing will return, and you’ll look at me the same way.”

Marinette took Alya’s hand, looking her intensely in the eyes. They were red and shiny with tears. “If that thing returns… Alya, I’d NEVER look at you that way. Because I KNOW you. I KNOW you’d never do that. I’d never for a second think you were acting of your own free will. I’d work to free you, same as when you were akumatized.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “And… and I do have an idea at least of how you feel, even if mine wasn’t as bad. How it feels to have some other toxic thoughts running through your head that don’t belong to you, to say things you’d never say. It’s NOT YOUR FAULT. It wasn’t you, and what happened, what thoughts ran through your head, what whatever that was used your body to do – it says NOTHING about you as a person.”

Alya gave her a small smile, sniffling a little. “Th-thanks, girl. I needed that.”

Looking at Adrien’s shiny eyes and noticing the wetness around her own, Alya wasn’t the only one who needed to hear that.

She just hoped none of them had to go through that again. Thinking of how badly Alya got it, and the versions of herself that Adrien and Nino met… it could’ve been MUCH worse. If she’d been transported into that version Nino met especially… well she doubted she’d be in much better condition than Alya was now. Nino hadn’t quite been able to force himself to repeat everything that Not-Marinette had said, but the highlights he gave? Especially of what that… that entity had thought about Adrien, had wanted to happen to Adrien?

If she’d been in THAT being, she’d probably have thrown up as soon as she regained control of her own body.

They didn’t know what would happen when they went through that giant door, tried to go somewhere else. Heck, for all any of them knew, they could be thrown back into those nightmares at any minute.

…Okay maybe time to think of something else. Think and talk about something she could actually control.

“I- I wanted to talk about some things. Some things that nightmare world confronted me with. Made me realize.”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. The nightmare in her world may have twisted both her and Adrien… but it may have had some points as well.

Locking eyes with Adrien, she continued, trying to keep her voice calm and clear. “In my nightmare world, that Adrien was horrified at how I’d assembled a schedule of his week, down to the minute without his knowledge or consent, and how I’d stolen his phone that one time and… well, I just… I needed to get that out there. Needed to let you know that I did do that. And I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, I… I just really wanted to know where you were and what you were doing, know everything I could find out about you that I was still too nervous to ask you, and then I called you and fumbled it and called you ‘hot stuff’ and I had to get it and delete the message before you heard it and I… I panicked and used the schedule to figure out when I could steal your phone so I could delete it. When Alya was talking about me stealing phones awhile ago, when we found out each other’s secret identities? That’s one of the cases she was talking about.”

Adrien blinked. “Oh. So THAT’S why that went missing. Wait that means-“

He turned his head to look at Nino. “I was totally right, it WASN’T in my bag, I knew I wasn’t just tired! Ha!”

Turning back, he gave Marinette a fond look. She melted a little. Even after being together for a little while now, just seeing the looks he gave her turned her to mush. “Sorry about that. Nino teased me for WEEKS about how easily I lose things after that incident.

Anyway; seriously Marinette, it’s fine. I don’t mind. I would’ve just deleted it if you’d asked, but I’m not mad at you for any of that. I don’t think that’d even be possible. And I’m not sure what the problem with the schedule is?”

He didn’t see the-? Looking at his slightly tilted head and his curious expression, he genuinely didn’t seem to understand.

…Come to think of it, he was a celebrity, and it’s not like he’d ever had anything like “privacy” or “consent” taken into account so long as they conflicted with his father’s desires at all, and regular citizens often didn’t either. Being forced to wear a Chat costume for Clara’s music video, along with everything that went down when half the city chased him around after that one ad was released, showed that well enough.

Not too shocking that he didn’t see any issue with her having assembled his schedule then, or not being at all upset for her stealing his phone.

While she was glad he wasn’t angry with her, she REALLY wanted to teach him more about things like ‘boundaries’ and ‘privacy’. He was worryingly lax about such things, and she was pretty sure it was because he’d never been taught they were things he was allowed to have.

She might not be able to stop his boundaries from being violated (she’d seen how uncomfortable he looked in that selfie Wayhem took with him when they first met) or from other people invading his privacy, but she could at least make sure that she herself wasn’t one of those people.

And… maybe let him know why the schedule was slightly iffy. Give him an idea of what to look out for.

“I didn’t ask you before gathering the info for it. I didn’t have to really look for it, I just overheard what you told Nino about your schedule and tracked your comings and goings, I didn’t break into anything or follow you, to be clear, but… the reasons I had for making the schedule weren’t necessarily the greatest? Like if I’d’ve been keeping track of it so I could better coordinate with you for something or to throw you a surprise party, that would’ve been one thing, but… I used it for stealing your phone for selfish purposes instead. And even before that, I just kinda wanted to know where you were, which… yeah without letting you know about it was something I probably shouldn’t’ve done. My nightmare world may have had a point on that.

I abused that knowledge of your life in order to do something you didn’t know about and I knew you wouldn’t have approved of. I’m glad you’re not upset but… if someone does that, you know you’re allowed to be, right? Like, you might get in trouble with your father if you express it towards him, but you’re allowed to feel that feeling. And if someone tells you that you’re not allowed to have privacy, that they have every right to snoop around your life without your knowledge, especially to do something that ends up hurting you or the people you care about… you might not be able to do much about it if Gabriel’s involved, but… it’s wrong. And I shouldn’t have been one of the people doing it in the first place.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I still don’t totally get it, but… thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

His mouth quirked downward, and he grimaced. “About boundaries though… I was wondering about that? One of the things that I was forced to do, forced to think was about how we belonged together, and keeping on saying so after Ladybug had already said ‘no’, and… wanting it as some sort of power thing! And I know I’d never do what that thing made me do and think, as far as pressing when you’re uncomfortable and scared, wanting to control and dominate you, but… I have sometimes said some stuff like what that thing made me say. What it said. Like talking about how we belong together, which… I’ve mostly talked about that alone, but… I just want to see whether I’ve been hurting you at all.”

Ah. Yeah, she could see that. And well, his nightmare hadn’t been completely wrong… but it wasn’t right either. “I know what it’s like to have an intense crush, kitty. How much and how fervently you want and believe that you should be together. I’m not going to begrudge your feelings. You can’t control that. And I do admire how open you can be about them! That’s something I wish I was better at.

I didn’t even realize you had a crush on me, genuinely, until that rooftop dinner you set up – I thought it was just part of this gentlecat persona you present. But… well, you have occasionally pressed when you shouldn’t have. Not very hard, but hinting about maybe us getting together one day during the interview with Nadja when I was trying to shut her down wasn’t very helpful. I can see now why it didn’t register to you that Nadja was prying though, was getting too personal. I’m guessing that wasn’t too unusual by your standards?”

Adrien nodded. “Father’s been having me do more interviews for Teen magazines lately, and they can get… well, Nadja was one of the less… intense interviewers I’ve had lately.”

Marinette winced. She’d read some of those interviews. She didn’t want to know what questions HADN’T made it to print.

“You were generally pretty good at keeping your feelings in check – and trust me, I KNOW how hard that can be – just be careful about the ways in which you show them. I’m glad you let me know you had feelings for me, but doing so more publicly like with that interview can feel like putting pressure to reciprocate. And generally speaking, saying anything that presumes that the other person will change their mind isn’t a great way to phrase things. I never felt any fear or even really uncomfortable around you, I KNOW you’d never go too far and I don’t blame you for this at all – I’m able to work through this kind of thing with my parents, and I know that until recently, you didn’t really have anyone to do that with. I just recommend talking out what to do with an adult, someone you can trust. Maybe Fu? He doesn’t have much experience in the romance department or with connecting closely to other humans though. You could always talk with my parents at least? They may be biased, but I think they’d be your best bet.

He nodded. “I will. I’ve been thinking of dropping by more anyway, if I can get away with it.”

Biting his lip, he paused, then continued. “…There was one other thing. In my nightmare world, Not-you talked about how I was useless. How I couldn’t concentrate. That I goofed around too much. How I couldn’t do my job, and that it was my fault when people got hurt.”

She did remember him talking about that earlier when he was recounting his story, come to think of it. It was remarkably similar to her own nightmare world, actually, except that the versions of herself and Chat in Adrien’s nightmare were a lot harsher and more sneering and were just plain more horrible all-around than in hers.

It wasn’t any truer in his world, than it had been in hers.

“Adrien. Chat. NO. You’re the best partner I could ever hope for. Sometimes you might joke when I need to concentrate, but… overall? I’m glad you have a sense of humor. That you help keep things light and fun. If I didn’t have someone to joke and laugh and just plain have fun with during akuma fights, I think I’d burn out. I spiral easily, and you help keep that from happening. Plus it’s not like I don’t joke back. Just try not to joke too much while I’m concentrating hard on figuring out what to do, I just don’t have the bandwidth to devote to it right then.

The other thing though? It is NOT your fault if people get hurt! Remember what I told Hawkmoth back when he was trying to blame us for the damage his akuma did? ‘Don’t reverse the roles here’. It’s HIS fault, NOT YOURS. He’s the one who sets it all up, who tries to hurt people. Don’t let someone try and deflect the blame back onto you. HE’S the real bad guy here.

And if I ever made you feel useless… I’m sorry. I would NEVER mean that. I couldn’t do this without you. Or at least… I wouldn’t want to. And I’ll tell you that as often as you need it, until you believe it.”

He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

The four of them sat in silence a minute as it grew increasingly uncomfortable.

“…Does anyone else have anything they need to talk through? To get off their chests?” Marinette asked hopefully.

The others just stared back at her.

Crap.

If there was nothing left to talk about, to settle…

She took a deep breath. “…I guess it’s time to see what’s on the other side of that door.”

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

(A/N) These kids love and care about each other. And realistically? YES, they sometimes have issues. YES, they sometimes do things wrong. But they're not malicious about it, and they'd talk it out. Nothing any of them have actually done is worth destroying them over.

I figure that Alya would be the worst affected by the salt towards her. Not only is it extreme, but that kind of trauma isn't something she's used to dealing with.

 Considering Adrien's reactions to his father's abuse and the trauma of the time loops in Desperada, with how he at least attempts to shrug them off and generally doesn't show a ton of outward signs of how bad things are, I think that most of the trauma from the way he's salted would just get tossed on the trauma pile with everything else he's endured. It'd be bad, but he wouldn't SHOW how bad.

Plus I pulled back on the extremeness of Adrien salt. The worst of that particular variety of salt tends to have him attempt to or succeed in sexually assaulting Marinette, and that is NOT something I'm gonna cover in detail. Just no. Chapter two's rendition of that salt is as much as I'm gonna cover on that aspect of salt towards him.

[cake-writes]

In Your Atmosphere (Part Three)

Pairings: Steve x Reader & platonic Bucky x Reader (mostly)

Warnings: PTSD / Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt, Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: The first time you met Steve Rogers, he kissed the hell out of you. It wasn’t the first time he met you.

Part Two / Master List

—

As the sun disappeared under the horizon, the compound became busier, almost bustling with activity as more and more people returned from their missions. Not that you noticed. After your brutal training session with Steve, you'd left him behind to finish his training and took another long, hot shower and then a nap, having been thoroughly and completely wiped out by the exercise. At first, you’d changed back into your casual clothes with the intention of exploring more of the compound, but once you went to rest your eyes for a minute you were out like a light.

The sounds of a heated argument followed by the slamming of a door were what woke you from your slumber. You couldn’t hear a lick of what had been said, but you ventured out into the hallway to investigate, yawning loudly. Your muscles were already singing from overuse – not even the hot shower had helped – and you’d feel it even worse tomorrow for sure.

The long hallway was dimly-lit, giving you the impression that it was much later than it actually was; a quick check of your phone indicated that it was a little after eight o’clock at night.

During your tour earlier in the day, you'd learned that this entire side of the building was residential, including the three floors above and the two below yours. It was evident that other people lived on your floor, the third floor, but you hadn’t yet figured out who your neighbours were. Your bedroom was in the corner, furthest from the stairs, and as you made your way toward them, you assumed that you probably wouldn't be finding out tonight. The other doors were closed, and it was far too quiet for your liking.

Your stomach growled and you gave up on your investigation to make your way to the kitchen. Considering everyone who lived here were all basically roommates, there were bound to be arguments. You knew from experience that it was hard to live with other people sometimes, and the Avengers were people, too.

The kitchen was deserted, and the dishwasher was running. It looked like everyone may have already eaten dinner. How did that even work, anyway? Did they share meals at the kitchen table, or did they eat separately? Who bought the groceries? Were they for communal use? At the very least you hoped that the answer to the last question was ‘yes,’ because you were starving.

Not wanting to accidentally steal someone else’s food, you took a mandarin orange from the fruit bowl on the table, in hopes that it would stave off your hunger while you tried to figure out what else you could eat without imposing. You took a seat at the counter and peeled the fruit as you scrolled through your Insta feed, liking a couple of Wanda’s posts. She was really excited about an upcoming high-end makeup release based on the female Avengers, herself included. She even had her own eyeshadow palette which you made a mental note to buy.

Just as you started to research the other palettes, a female voice piped up from the other side of the kitchen island. “Hey, you’re up.”

You jumped, slamming your knee on the counter in the process.

“God damn it, Nat,” you hissed, rubbing your bruising knee. “I hate it when you do that shit.”

She just grinned at you and took a seat at the counter beside you, peering at your phone. “Oh yeah, those are coming out next week. You’d better buy mine.”

“You know I will,” you told her, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. Not that you knew how to use it properly, the makeup, but you liked to try anyway.

Natasha took a piece of your orange for herself without asking, but that was only because you’d shared plenty of meals before, namely when the two of you went drinking. It didn’t bother you in the least. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” You knew what she was asking, about how you were coping with what had happened earlier. At her skeptical look, you rolled your eyes. “We did some burpees and talked it out.”

Natasha snorted.

You frowned at her. “What? Exercise calms me down. You know that.”

You purposely didn’t mention the fact that you and Steve had trained together for over an hour, or that the sexual tension between the two of you had been so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. It was unfortunate that your face heated at the memory, because Natasha didn’t fail to notice if the sly look on her face was any indication. “Is that what it does, now?”

“Yes,” you said exasperatedly, shoving the rest of the orange into your mouth.

She laughed again. “Burpees. Christ. You’re perfect for each other.”

You finished chewing and swallowed the fruit. “Can you not?"

She shot you another teasing look, but as per your request she changed the subject. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, I was going to ask. Is everything shared, or…?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “Pretty much. If you buy something for yourself, though, just write your name on it before you put it in the fridge. Otherwise someone will get into it.”

As if on cue, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, walked in for a post-workout snack – at least that’s what you assumed from the gym towel slung over his shoulders. There were two large refrigerators in the room, one by the entryway and one near you, behind the kitchen island. He went for the former, from which he pulled out a random blue container and cracked the lid to peer inside.

“Like I said,” Natasha said, eyeing him warily, “Someone.”

You tried and failed to stifle a laugh. From what you understood, Sergeant Barnes had been through hell and back, so you couldn't really blame him. He was probably still adjusting to not being a human science experiment. That was probably a little more important than remembering to check a container for names.

“I only take Nat’s food,” he commented dryly, not even bothering to look over at the two of you as he popped the container into the microwave. “She likes to eat healthy. So do I. Your body’s a temple ‘n all that.”

You raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her for confirmation. She just shrugged. Well, you couldn't really blame him for that, either.

After the microwave started up, he leaned on the counter and finally spared a glance at you. Then he greeted you casually, “Oh, hey, Tang. Been awhile.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

That was when his eyes widened for a split second, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he realized what he’d said - not that you had any idea what that was, exactly.

“Sorry,” he covered quickly, “You, uh, look like someone I used to know.” As if that was a good enough explanation, he came over and held out his right hand, the flesh one, for a handshake. “Call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely, shaking his hand as you offered him your name.

Then he brought your hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it with a crooked smile.  “Good to meet you, too, gorgeous.”

Maybe it was because your brain was already fried from the day’s earlier events, but you just gaped at him. That made twice in one day you’d been hit on, and by two Avengers, no less. Bucky was plenty handsome, of course: he had that sort of ‘bad boy’ appeal, with a bit of scruff on his face and a head of unruly brown hair. It suited him, but you couldn’t help but wonder how often it got in the way during fights. You liked to have yours pulled back out of the way, or cut short, depending on the mission.

The microwave beeped, then, signalling that his food was ready, and he released your hand to go retrieve it.

“I think you broke her,” Nat remarked.

“Nat,” you huffed, “You need to stop.”

You definitely weren’t used to this kind of attention. While in the past you’d been on missions where your role was that of a seductress, you’d never actually had that sort of appeal in your regular life. Today was a freak occurrence.

Bucky just laughed and, with his container and a fork in hand, he made his exit. He called over his shoulder on his way out, “See you around, sweetheart.”

---

What was meant to be a quick meal turned into a spontaneous girls’ night, with wine and cheese and stupid, terrible spy movies. That had always been a favourite for you and Natasha, because they were so hilariously inaccurate and the two of you loved to rip them apart. This one in particular was worse than most, but then again, you’d already polished off a bottle of wine each and were well into a third.

It felt so, so good to catch up with her. You hadn’t had a chance to over the last few months, considering how busy she’d been with the Avengers and how hard you’d been working to dig into SHIELD’s corruption. Every now and then, you did a welfare check on her to ensure that she was still alive, and of course she was. You had no doubt that she checked up on you every now and again, too.

Your peals of laughter spilled out of the living room as Natasha did a particularly awful impression of the female lead, who seemed to have no common sense whatsoever.

Sadly, your fun was rudely interrupted.

“It’s three in the morning, ladies. I can hear you all the way…”

Steve’s reprimand trailed off as he caught sight of you, and it was like his irritation seemed to just melt away. You were sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking pretty as a picture with a blanket thrown over your lap, face flushed from the alcohol. He’d been able to hear all the excitement from his room upstairs, but he didn’t really put two and two together until he saw you. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize your voice; it just caught him off-guard. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen you smile, and even longer since he'd heard you laugh.

You glanced over at Natasha, brows raised. “Uh oh,” you managed to say in between giggles, “We’re in trouble, now.”

“Busted,” she agreed with a grin, before she let out a sigh. “I guess it is getting late, though. Got an early mission.”

As Natasha got to her feet, Steve eyed the coffee table and spotted three bottles of wine, two of which were empty and the third, nearly so. Beside them were two wine glasses, a small platter of cheese, crackers, and grapes, as well as a half-eaten block of chocolate. Judging by the haphazard way the chocolate bar had been opened, with the foil ripped and crumpled in such a strange way, he guessed that it was yours.

“Aw, but the movie isn’t over,” you protested, reaching over to break off a piece of chocolate.

He was right.

“Sorry,” she told you apologetically, taking one last cube of cheese for the road. “Night, guys.”  

With one final pout, you said, “Bye, Nat.”

Steve didn’t miss the sly look Natasha shot him as she left the room, and his jaw tensed. He wasn’t going to live down the day's earlier events for a while.

“There’s still plenty of cheese left,” you called out to him, not wanting it to go to waste. “And wine, if you like that sort of thing.”

“What are you watching?” he asked you, slowly coming to stand beside the sofa.

“It’s called Hitler’s Mistress.” At Steve’s unimpressed look, you added, “His girlfriend is an American spy, except she’s really bad at it. Like, in real life he probably would have figured it out in the first two minutes of meeting her, bad.”

“That sounds…” he paused, wrinkling his nose as he tried to think of a nice way to word it, “not that great.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” you told him matter-of-factly. “It was supposed to be a love story, but it’s terrible. Watch with me?”

Considering his history, he didn’t particularly want to watch a movie about Hitler, but you really seemed to be enjoying it and he was awake, now. So, taking your word for it, he settled into the nearby armchair. “Sure.”

You were a bit disappointed that he didn’t next to you on the sofa like Natasha had, but that was fine. It was probably better that you didn’t sit together, considering, well, everything.

What you didn't know was that Steve had purposely not sat there for exactly that reason. He wanted to respect your boundaries, for one, and for two, he honestly didn’t trust himself around you, not after the stunt he'd pulled. In the end, though, he was glad that he stayed. The movie was absolutely terrible, and he got a kick out of it just as much as you did. Hitler was portrayed in a negative light, which was great, and it was even better that his ‘girlfriend,’ the spy, was so bad at her job and he still couldn’t figure it out. While Steve appreciated that, what he liked more was spending time with you.

Unfortunately, you were sauced. You put on pretty good front so as not to appear drunk, but tonight it wasn’t intentional; it had just become second nature to you now due to your job. And, quite the opposite, not once did Steve touch the alcohol. You got the impression that he preferred beer or spirits.

As the full extent of your inebriation started to set in, you found yourself staring less at the movie and more at him. God, he was flawless and so, so sexy even when he wasn’t trying to be. He was literally just sitting there, but all you wanted to do was get up, go over, and mount him like a stallion. Every now and then, Steve leaned over to take a piece of cheese or a grape - a simple movement, really - and when he licked his fingers, it lit a fire within you that just wouldn’t quit.

It didn’t take long for you to polish off the rest of the wine. There wasn’t much of it left, anyway, and you didn’t want it to go down the drain. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The real reason was because your nerves were shot.

That was a mistake.

The credits started to roll sooner than you would have liked. It was about four o’clock, now, per the clock on your phone. Even though you knew how late it was, there was just something about him that made you want to stay with him, spend time with him… maybe even sleep with him. No, that was definitely just the alcohol. With a heavy sigh, you unsteadily got to your feet and stretched, doing your best to ignore the growing heat between your legs, the lingering soreness in your muscles, and the fact that you’d had far too much to drink.

“You alright?”

When you turned your head to look at Steve, you swayed a little. “Peachy keen.”

You weren’t. You’d drank quite a bit, and he knew it, judging by the amused expression on his face as he pulled himself up out of the armchair. God, with even that simple action you could see his muscles flex and strain under his shirt. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, which made it about ten times worse.

“Here." He held out his hand to you. “I’ll help you up to your room.”

How chivalrous. You wanted to swoon.

“But the mess—?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll take care of it, doll. Come on.”

Your face heated at the casual address, and even more so when you took his hand, your skin tingling at the warmth of his touch. Still, you felt guilty letting him clean up after you, but you were in no state to try and collect the leftover plates and glasses without dropping them. Your words slurred just a little as you apologized, “I'm sorry for the trouble. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Nat, and…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as he eased you down the hallway. “Everyone needs to let loose once in a while.”

“Do you?” you asked him.

He pondered that question for a moment, before he answered, “Not as much as I should.”

“Well, that’s no good,” you said with a frown. “Have a drink with me next time.”

Next time. The phrase warmed his heart, but he got the feeling that it was just the alcohol talking. “Next time?”

You didn’t notice what you said until he mentioned it, and then you found yourself flustered, drunkenly babbling, “I shouldn’t have assumed– I mean, I’m a mess so I totally understand if you don’t want to—”

Steve said your name and stopped walking, giving your hand a gentle tug to stop you, too. "Hey," he said as you spun around to face him, swaying slightly. “I’m kidding. That sounds great.”

The halls, unlike the living room, were still dimly lit, and with the television switched off, it was quiet - almost unnervingly so. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your racing heartbeat in your ears as you looked up into his kind blue eyes, feeling absolutely minuscule in front of him. He was so tall, a fact you’d never fully realized until now. You loved it.

Despite your inebriated state, you didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes flickered down to your lips. 

You needed to say something, anything, to break this tension, otherwise you’d do something you would absolutely regret in the morning. You’d always prided yourself in your professionalism: you weren’t the type to sleep with a coworker, and you didn’t plan to start today despite how incredibly tempting the prospect was. 

That thought sobered you up a little.

“Do you—” you began, throat dry, “Do you have a mission in the morning, too?”

Your sudden question brought him back to reality. “Oh, yeah. With Romanoff.”

You grimaced and gently released his hand, not wanting to take up any more of his time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” he teased, “being 96 and all.”

Right. Of course. You knew his backstory, but having him come right out and tell you something like that came as a bit of a shock. Here you were, in your mid-twenties, being attracted to someone who'd been born nearly a full century prior. How stupid of you to assume that you'd be able to relate to him, someone who had grown up during the Great Depression. There was literally nothing in common between the two of you, no foundation upon which to even build a friendship, let alone a relationship. You felt like a moron.  

Well, you certainly swooned, but it wasn’t because of his chivalry.

“Whoa, hey.” Steve caught you easily as you fell, with one arm around your lower back. “Do you want to sit down?”

Your fingers embedded themselves loosely in his shirt as a flush of shame crawled up your neck. God, you were an idiot. Even now, you loved how strong his chest felt under your fingertips, the way he held you so securely, his warmth—

Your eyes fluttered shut, then, and your head lulled back as your consciousness began to fade. You could vaguely feel him pull you closer, and when he said your nickname again, you thought that his voice sounded so far away. It barely registered when he hooked his other arm under your knees to lift you up; instead, for a brief moment, it felt like you were floating.

That was the last thing you remembered.

---

Tags: @jennmurawski13, @patzammit

Part Four

[avengerscompound]

My Love,

My Love, - A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  3349

Warnings:  Fluff with a side of angst

Synopsis:   Steve writes you a letter every time he goes on a mission. They usually arrive after he gets back.

A/N:  For my #Happy Steve Bingo Fill: Letters

I really hate being away from you so long.  That’s the nature of the job I guess.  At least it takes me to interesting places.

France is nice.  Definitely prettier than the first time I was here.  Not too surprising really.

Even with the mission, Tony keeps splurging on things.  Paris definitely knows how to do opulent.  I try and imagine what it would be like if I went back in time and told myself that my life would turn out like this and all I can think is I’d have tried to fight myself for being a liar.  Size difference and all.

The food here is good.  Rich but you don’t eat much of it.  Sam ordered a cappuccino which is an Italian drink.  Bucky thought it was hilarious when the waitress rolled her eyes and then charged him tourist prices.

I’m hoping we can see the Louvre before we leave but I doubt we’ll have time.  I’ll try and wrap up as quickly as I can though.  I do like art.  It would be nice to see it.

If not, maybe I can bring you some time?  Just for a vacation.  There’s a bridge where lovers engrave their initials on a lock and lock it to the railing.  We could do that together.

I miss you, With love, Steve

I got your letter a week after you got back.  I still feel the need to write to you though because that has by far been the cutest thing you’ve ever done.  Who stops mid-mission to go to a post office?

I would, however, love to go to France with you.  Thank you for the tip about cappuccinos.  Knowing me I’ll screw something up though.  You’ll have to do all the ordering.  Just remember I’ll want to eat all the cheese.

I know you didn’t make it to the Louvre so we will make sure we go together.  There is nothing I like more than seeing you being all artistic.  Maybe they’ll inspire you.

I missed you like crazy too.  I’m so glad you’re home. XXXOOO

London is dreary.  It’s been raining almost constantly since we got here.  That kind of rain that almost just hangs in the air and soaks you to the bone.

Even though it’s changed, being here reminds me of Peggy.

I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.  I miss her.  It’s good to remember her and us.

Is it bad to be talking about a lost-love with a new one?  I’m sorry if that stepped over a line.

Sam won’t stop doing a bad English accent when he talks to locals.  I swear if he says ‘cheerio gov'na’ to one more person he’s going to get decked.  Bucky has been finding it extremely funny though.  I mean his accent is terrible.

Clint is obsessed with English breakfasts.  None of the rest of us understand it at all.  I mean, it comes with beans in tomato sauce and blood pudding that’s usually like rubbery disks.  He can’t get enough of it though and even though it’s eggs, bacon, beans, sausage, blood pudding, and toast, he still goes back for seconds every time.

We haven’t done much sightseeing this time.  I’ll buy you something really cheesy.

Love you and see you soon, Steve

Oh my god, I love you so much do you know that?  You are such a dork but so sweet I don’t even know what to do with you.  This time your letter arrived two days after you.  Kudos to the postal service.

You did come home with a bear dressed as a Queen’s Guard and stories of the Tower of London so lucky you got some sightseeing time.

Of course, you can talk to me about Peggy.  She was much more than an ex to you.  She was a first love and a lost life.  That’s important.  I love you and I don’t want you to hide important things from me just because you’re worried about petty things like jealousy.

I’m glad Sam was able to keep Bucky entertained.  I heard that accent, it was equal parts bad and hilarious.

I kind of want to try an English Breakfast now is that weird?  Or maybe I just want to see it. We’ll have to go together sometime too.  Also, let’s get fish and chips.  That’s a thing right?

I don’t think you understand how much I love you.

With all my heart XXXOOO

The middle of nowhere Serbia has nothing worth noting.  It’s cold and empty and it brings back bad memories.  No one is happy.  I don’t get cold easily but I hate it when I am and right now I am cold to my very bones.

Bucky has shut down almost completely.  He barely says anything to anyone.  Not even Sam or Clint are able to make him crack a smile.  I hope this is over soon.

I miss you.  I miss you like crazy.  I miss talking to you.  I miss holding you.  I miss how your lips feel against mine.  How mine feel against the rest of you.  I want to hold you and taste you and make love to you and instead I’m stuck here in the cold remembering what it’s like to die.

I love you.  Please don’t forget that. Steve

You can have whatever you need.  I’m right here.

I always like visiting China.  We don’t really get to come here often enough.  Even if it is for work.  Beijing is such an interesting city.  These temples that are older than Thor just alongside these wonders of modern architecture.

Also, everyone drives like maniacs.  I’m glad we have Clint to drive because I took a cab one time and thought for sure that was going to be the day I died.  And as you know, I don’t think those thoughts very often.

Natasha and Bucky speak fluent Mandarin and I think Bucky keeps saying shit about Sam to the locals because they keep giving him the weirdest looks anytime they speak to Bucky.  He won’t tell me what he’s saying though.

There’s a street food you can buy that’s like a savory pancake with an egg fried into it and some kind of crunchy thing that I’m not even sure what it is.  It tastes amazing though.  It has a spicy sauce that I can handle.  I’ve bought so many since I got here.

There is a fashion trend where people were little plastic flowers or leaves that look like they’re growing straight out of a person’s head.  Wanda loves it and bought herself a daisy.  She looks very cute wearing it.

We get stopped on the street a lot.  I’m glad we aren’t doing spy work because there is no way we’d be going unnoticed.  I will say I won’t miss the fact I get to have a small amount of anonymity back in New York.

I bought you a packet of Oreos with green and pink cream.  I think they’re peach and grape.  Only Clint was brave enough to taste them and he didn’t seem impressed.  And hot fish soup flavored chips.

Miss you.  This might be on the list of places we go.  What do you think? Steve

Man, this trip was a long one.  I miss you like crazy and I’m actually posting this to you before your even home.  Maybe it will be waiting for you before you get back.

At least it sounds like you’re having a good time.  I’m going to bug the hell out of Bucky to find out what he was saying about Sam.

I’m interested to see what the treats you’ve bought me are like.  Scared.  But interested.  I hope you buy me one of those head plants too.  They sound cute.  I definitely want to see Wanda wearing hers.

I hope you’re home soon.  I try not to, but I do worry when you’re gone.  I know you say it’s okay and normal.  And I know logically that that’s true, but I feel guilty about it.  Like you will then worry about me worrying about you.

Miss you so much.  I hope you’re ready for an embarrassing amount of PDA when your back.

XXXOOO

Austria is another country I think.  God, the buildings in Vienna are beautiful.

Tony is splurging again and I can’t even blame him.  It’s just one of those places.  A honeymoon place if you know what I mean?

When you order coffee here they serve it on a silver tray with a glass of water and a silver spoon.  Even places like McDonald’s serve it like that.   Clint says it’s about time he was treated like royalty because of his addiction.

The food is usually very heavy and meat is a big part of it but there’s always the lightest salad served on the side and the cakes here are amazing.

There are are some huge museums here in really old buildings.  I’d like to go see them.  Lots of art galleries too.  Gustav Klimt is from Vienna and his art features on a lot of banners around the city.  I would love to see it in person.

I’m surprised by how many people here dye their hair vibrant colors.  I mean I know it happens everywhere but I’ve never seen it in so commonly done.  Mostly young people in their late teens/early twenties but also lots of people of all ages.  Bucky said I should dye my hair so they fit in better and I kid you not an hour later Clint showed up with lavender hair saying he’s never going back to natural.

I miss you and love you.  I should be home soon. Steve

A honeymoon type place huh?  I see…

I got this letter a week after you got home.  Clint’s hair had already mostly washed out and I wish I had seen it so badly.  If you wanted to dye your hair I’d be okay with it.  As long as it wasn’t red, white, and blue.

I will definitely go to Vienna with you just for the cake and coffee experience.  If we have time I guess we can see some art too.

All my love XXXOOO

New Zealand is beautiful.  We’ve been traveling around with this one and in many ways, it reminds me of England in that it’s so green and it has been raining a lot.  But there’s something more … primal and … raw about it?  I guess those are the right words.  The mountains are huge and there’s a lot of volcanic activity.  Thor seems almost more alive here than I’ve ever seen him.

There is a lot of talk about Hobbiton and the Lord of the Rings around here.  Like that’s the thing you do in New Zealand.  I’d like to see it.  I read the Hobbit when it was released though I haven’t read the others or seen the movies.  They all came out while I was still on the ice.  Another thing to add to the list I guess.  That thing is getting longer and longer and I don’t seem to be making much of a dent in it.

The birds here are all very interesting.  I haven’t seen most of the really rare ones, although some government officials have organized to let us meet a kiwi once all the official work things are taken care of.

They call corner stores here dairies and Sam can’t stop laughing about it.  Oh also, one time we needed a cooler to store some… things… and the guy we bought it off called it a chilly bin.  Only with the accent, it sounded like chully bun and Sam didn’t stop laughing for a good hour after we left the store.   And then just randomly Bucky would say chully bun and set Sam off again for another 20 minutes.

I really love seeing them that happy, you know?

I bought you pineapple lumps because of the name.

I miss you.  I hope this wraps up soon. Steve

Oh my god, this one is a record-breaker.  It was a month after you got home that your letter arrived.  Man, the post office was in no hurry at all.

I have the Lord of the Rings movies here.  We can watch them next time you sleepover.  Which can be tonight if you like.

I really liked those pineapple lumps.  We should go to New Zealand just to get them.  I’m jealous that you got to hold a Kiwi bird.  I am totally framing that photo of you with it.  I’ve heard they have actual dinosaurs in New Zealand and I want to see them too.

I have to say, getting these letters from you is always something I look forward to.  It takes the edge off you going.  Like I know when you’re away at some random point in time I’m going to get a letter from you and I can look forward to it.

I love you so so much. XXXOOO

Santiago is such an intense city.  There are so many people.  It’s crowded all the time and the pollution hangs low to the ground.  It does make it easy to blend in though.  Even for us.

I love how the mountains loom over us.  They just go up so drastically that even though they aren’t even close it looks like they’re in walking distance.  I want to climb them but then also I really don’t want to do that either.

I’m having a little trouble with the food with my poor Irish stomach.  I have however discovered Ceviche.  Bucky is very uncertain as to why I would want to be eating raw fish but it is so good.  I think I’m going to try and make it when I get home.  I’ve probably eaten it every single day.

We aren’t getting to see very much this time though.  It’s pretty much been constant work.  We did have a naked Clint situation but I might let him tell you about it.  Make sure you ask him though.

I miss you and love you. Steve

Your Ceviche was wonderful and I’m so glad you have that as a thing you can make.  If nothing else, I’m glad you went to Chile for that alone.  Though I wish I could go with you on these things.  I mean, obviously, I know you can’t but still, the bed feels empty without you in it.

You are welcome to climb those mountains, but I think you might have to do it without me.  Unless you want to carry me.  You can probably carry me if you like.

Naked Clint situation you say?  Well, I guess I’m coming over to the compound.  I’ll see you soon.

Love you XXXOOO

I have been to Germany so many times I stopped seeing it as something interesting.  I’ve never been here for the Christmas markets though and I am absolutely bringing you back for them.

I have never really understood Christmas lights until seeing them here. It gets dark so early and it just looks magical.

I have never seen the team so happy to be on a mission before.  We’re doing the work… but we blend into the crowds in the dark. On the time off they’re going out and buying drinks in the street.  Maybe not the most responsible thing to do I guess.

Sam has found a stall that sells skewers of meat with a potato stuck on the end and he carries them around pretending he’s a Viking.

I bought you an ornament.  It’s not super Christmas themed so you can just put it up if you want to all year round.  It looks like a bird.  Clint keeps asking me if I want you to be thinking about him when I’m not around.  So of course now I’m only going to think of him when I see it.

I have never wished you were with me as much as I do right now.  I think you would really like it here.

I miss you and love you, Steve

It sounds amazing.  I love the bird and I will absolutely not think about Clint when I look at it.  I will think about how much I love you and how you always surprise me.

The Christmas Markets do sound good and you all looked very relaxed when you got back.  That doesn’t happen very often.  I really hope we can go one day.  There are so many things I would like to do with you now.   We are definitely going to have to organize a trip together but you’re always so happy to be home.  I don’t want to drag you away from that either.

This time your letter arrived three weeks after you did.  Not a record but I was starting to wonder if you forgot.  I should have more faith in you.

Love you XXXOOO

Sydney is really pretty.  It’s been really warm here despite coming off the tail end of winter I feel like I’m steaming to death in my uniform.  It’s funny when you go to a place and it’s just like the pictures on TV look.  The Harbor is like that.  With the Bridge and the Opera House.

I got to try Tim Tams.  Finally knocking some things off my damned list.  They’re pretty good.  One of the locals showed me this way to eat them where you kind of use them as a straw.  It was a little too sweet for me but Sam made sounds like he just had an orgasm.

It’s interesting the kinds of wildlife you see right in the city too.  I mean it’s not kangaroos or anything.  But they have those big white parrots.  Cockatoos?  Is that what they’re called.  And at night there are the biggest bats I’ve ever seen in my life.  Every time we see them Sam starts quoting Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Bucky tried eating kangaroo.  He said it was gamey but okay.  It’s funny how the rest of the team were too scared to do that.  We’re superheroes.  Oh well, I guess being too scared to eat marsupial isn’t going to end the world.

They sell opals everywhere here.  I bought you something.  I really, really hope you like it.  I think you will.

I miss you and love you.  See you soon. Steve

Five weeks!!  Five weeks this letter took me.  I can’t believe it.  And what do you mean present?  You never gave me a present.  Or are we talking those Tim Tams because I thought they were from Sam?  Sam definitely tried to make it very clear they were from him.  The whole ‘you may want to ditch Steve for me after this’ thing and all.

They were pretty damn good, but it will take more than a chocolate cookie to pull me away from you.

I really want to see giant bats.  Is Australia on our list?  It’s pretty big.  There’s got to be more to it than just Sydney.

Love you so much. XXXOOO

I’m writing this on the plane on the way back from Sydney.  Even with the Quinjet, it takes a long, long time to get from Sydney to New York.  Lots of time to think.

Obviously, I was already thinking this, because I bought the ring before I wrote the letter.  I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly how I felt.

I love you so much.  You are the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep at night.  When we are apart every small thing I enjoy I wish I was sharing with you.  When we are together I feel as safe and happy as I ever have.

I love you and I want to share the rest of my life with you.  I want us to visit the world as a couple enjoying all the little things I always miss.

Will you marry me? Steve

[ladytauria]

*What if… Nova blowing him up was what caused him to have no cybernetics?* Dang. I didn't even think about that. Nova and Mandarin have the most brutal background with each other. It's even more of a hostile relationship when you remember that when it came to Clone Mandarin, Nova's the one who gave him the most savage beat down then other HF member has. Inside the worm after she saves Chiro she just glares at him and punches him to oblivion w/complete indifference to his fate. Back to your-

2 point. Mandarin left the most visible psychological scar on Nova w/her blaming him for her phobia of cold and inability to control her temper because of it (which she got over but she obviously still credits Mandarin w/that triggering). Nova possibly left the most physical trauma on him (the original. Chiro seems to have left the most visible scar on the clone by chopping his arm off and sending him inside the worm. Even then Nova's beat down looks behind Valina's abuse and Chiro's actions)-

3 One that probably affected him for the rest of his life. I doubt before then Mandarin had ever been hurt by someone on his team like that. I'm curious what his reaction afterwards was? Did he blame Nova completely or consider maybe he went about it the wrong way (in his own Mandy way)? Makes me wonder if Nova and Mandarin ever had a completely positive relationship. Even as babies he scared her and she always proclaims he was never good or could be good again. I wonder if Nova had the worst-

4 of him out of everyone even at the start? Not in a I hate him way because I do think back before Mandarin went tyrant wannabe they both cared about each other as teammates. I do bet she had respect for his leadership and trusted in him to guide them in the war. They're professional relationship was probably ok. But their personal bond was probably like iron and clay. 2 things that shouldn't mix at all. Mandarin and Nova might have been those 2 sibs that can't stand each other.

This is a damn good Mandarin & Nova analysis, Anon. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to it! 

I could absolutely see all of this. Nova & Mandarin definitely had the most antagonistic relationship, I’m thinking. Her and Sprx’s, while a little cringy for a modern/older viewer, was still built on affection & fondness. But hers and Mandarin’s...

I think there was part of each of them that loved each other, like you said. They were family. Siblings. But at the same time, there was a part of their personalities that would just. not. mesh.

Nova has been shown throughout the series as being one of the more empathetic/compassionate members, consistently doing her level best to stick up for the little guy & protect those she cares about. She does care about being good at her job, but I don’t think being the Best is something that concerns her. She just wants to help. 

& then you have Mandarin, who--based on flashbacks/inferrance--has been ambitious from the start. Perhaps not fully power hungry, but definitely concerned with being the Best of the Best and judging his own/other people’s worth based on their abilities and power levels. (I’m not going to go digging for the post right now, but either @monkeymindscream or @projectaffectivity did a post on how he is one of the only characters to actually. Not bash Sprx as being only the “dumb monkey” or dismiss his abilities, which is a good example of how this quality can be good!) In addition to this ambition, he also strikes me as a... big picture guy isn’t quite what I mean, but it’s close. He’s less concerned on the small pieces and more on the bigger prize.

So I can see where these two would have clashed from the beginning. Nova would have seen Mandarin as a bad seed from the get go, I think, even though she tried not to. Meanwhile, Mandarin would have seen her as resistant to his authority & perhaps even weakwilled for her emotional connection to things. So then you have the clash.

But combine that with Mandarin seeing POTENTIAL in her, and wanting her to be the Best, and pushing her hard so that she could BE the best, and then Nova likely misinterpreting it as more of their sibling rivalry.... and you have the big KABOOM we see in Snowbound’s flashback.

Which brings us to present day, & a lot of hard feelings and hurt between the two of them. After Mandarin’s bid for power, Nova looks back on all their negative interactions & uses that as confirmation that he was a bad egg--regardless of his intentions. & then Mandarin looks back at said interactions & sees Nova always pushing against him, not respecting him, and then even blowing him up while he was trying to help her... and sees a teammate who likely never wanted him around. Which furthers his resentment against her & then the rest of the team for “taking her side.” 

I could probably keep chattering about this, lmao, especially in a hypothetical redeemed Mandarin AU/CD, but I’m going to stop here because I’ve already talked long enough! If there was something in your asks that I didn’t reply to but you want me to, please let me know!