#And the fallout from that and how and if anything can be done to salvage what's been lost

[starscreamingg]

Something I'm thinking about in regards to goncharov is that like

If it was ever really made. Like an actual real film.

Would it be even half as inspiring as the theoretical gonchorav that we all hold in our hearts

[anjelicawrites]

I bring a potentially angsty question based on that drunk Billy gifset you just reblogged:

How does Billy react if/when reader and Michael ask about his family?

💜

Mel, you can come with all the angsty questions whenever you want!!! I love them!!!

Short answer? He doesn't have two significant others, he has two guard dogs now. Longer one? Let's dive under the cut!

Warning for reference to medications and nightmares. They/them used for reader where needed.

I think he would dodge the questions and be vague about it. Yes, he has an older sister in the police force, yes, his mum and dad still live in London and call him randomly. And that's it because, if he starts opening up about his family, he'll have to explain everything that happened to him. His face was on the papers, after he was extracted from the bombed car but neither you, nor Michael, made the connection and know the actual reason why he moved to Oxford, since the photos were old and in terrible quality, plus his story was sidelined by the bigger sensation that was the whole alt right movement fallout, and the murders connected to it.

As long as the relationship was simply based on sex, it was easier for him to give you both the least information possible, most of the time you two didn't stay over and didn't see his medications, the times he would wake up screaming from his nightmares or realize that Billy never goes back to London, not for love or money, or that his family doesn't come to visit him from time to time.

Things changed tho, like they always do.

You saw his medications by mistake, Michael almost got an heart attack when Billy fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up screaming. You didn't want to press him for information, you wanted to give him time to open up, Michael, and his big mouth, couldn't help but firing questions, Billy, obviously, clammed up and refused to say anything. If the relationship had made a step forward, thanks to Michael, it went back ten steps because Billy wasn't ready to show you two nerds who he had been and what he had done, being so ashamed of it himself.

The three of you didn't meet for weeks, Billy avoiding you on purpose, until you cornered him and made sure he told all that happened.

Talking about his family happens organically at this point.

Michael has to bite his tongue when Billy tells you the ways his family tried to tough him up, comparing him constantly to his sister who, seemingly, was amazing in every aspect of her life. He was embarrassed to admit how this constant reminder of his failures had taken a toll on his mental health, catapulting him into the waiting arms of the alt right group that used him. When Michael, finally, explodes, saying that they're all cunts, you are ready for the fallout.

"They tried their best. They failed, but tried the only way they know." Billy says, his head hanging a bit. "And that's why I can't meet them, because they'll never admit they were in the wrong." "Still cunts." "A bit, yes."

It shines in the way Billy talks about Lana, that he loves her and that love wasn't enough to salvage their relationship: she saved him but was the reason Billy kept falling and falling into the depths of depression; it wasn't her fault, she was the unwilling catalyst though, and you can't forget it. You hug Billy tight and he makes himself as small as possible to fit your frame and feel your hands in his hair, while Michael is grumbling about the whole situation in the background: he's not one for forgiveness. Not that you don't agree: Billy can do whatever he wants with his relationship with his family, you're never going to forgive and forget, even if Billy does. Someone needs to look into these people's eyes and remind them of what they did to him, the harm they caused to Billy, and still to this day.

That his parents and, to an extent, his sister did it believing they were doing right by Billy doesn't truly matter on the long run, not when Billy is still suffering and believes himself to be less than what he is, simply because he doesn't meet their expectations for him.

You don't have the luxury to express your rage as outwardly as Michael is doing right now, someone needs to anchor Billy, and that's your job, but by God you're fuming as you keep him in your arms and are already planning how you're going to show him how great he is, how important he is for you: that's your goal, Michael's? He will never let his family off the hook, it's a promise; if you know someone who never forgets a slight, who is capable of holding a grudge to his grave, that's you math genius boyfriend.

You two will need to coordinate your efforts and you two will succeed in helping Billy truly flourish, and if his family tries to have say in it? They will never know what will hit them, and that's your silent promise to Billy.

Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess @moris-auri @lexwolfhale

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[jeanmoreaux]

so i'm generally conflicted about this season of s&b (loved some of the scenes we got, hated the way we got them), but one thing that i'm stuck on is -> does this make any sense to people who haven't read the books? like even things like jesper being grisha; i feel like that was decently hinted at in s1 and then in s2 he's out here making keys out of coins? not to mention the hallucination of his mom - did that work for non book fans?? i truly don't know how much of this season would have made sense if i didn't already know what was happening (sorry this is so long)

oh, that's actually such a valid concern. i had a similar thought and already talked with some other book fans about how we probably would have dropped the season after a couple of episodes if we weren't already invested in these characters. i loved some scenes a lot as well, but that's probably because i already care about the characters. removed from that pre-existing love i don't think they would have made me feel anything at all. and that's mainly what frustrates me about this show. i don't think the season does a great job of fleshing out or making you care about the show versions of these characters. the just don't provide enough substance or nuance for any of them and, additonally, rush plot points and reveals. you're so right about the 'jesper is revealed to be grisha & personally comes to terms with that & becomes good at the craft' arc. it could have lasted an entire season and they handle it in like maybe 1.5 episodes??? way to fast imo. or, even more annoyingly, the alina twist & malina fallout wasn't set up well enough throughout the season to make sense either (not that i am particular fond of the direction they took any of that, because i wish they hadn't. but now that they have i wish they'd at least done it right). emotionally, alina's arc is currently closer to where she is at the end of s&s, so it really doesn't make sense that, narratively, we're now already past the r&r ending. not sure if they can salvage that if s3 gets to happen. as a casual viewer (even as someone who read the books) i am confused how this change came about because it's just thrown that us without proper buildup (like so many other plot points this season). that's just two examples. the s&b storyline in particular is riddled with instances of utter failures of narrative set-up & pay-off tbh.

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 | @vroomtaka | @lady-bee-fechin | @ramos123 | @itsmeevie01 | @chaoticstarworld | @vixen-uchiha | @seraphichana | @pleaseignorejustheretoread | @basenikon | @bread-loving-mess | @walkingthroughonautopilot |

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Fallout 4: the case for Father being a damn liar telling Damn Lies who is NOT who he claims to be

Oddly, I find that people seem very keen to take the Director of the freaking Institute at his word that he’s actually Shaun for some reason.

This is a man with all the motive and opportunity to lie about that in the world.

At no point does he actually offer any sort of hard evidence, and his attempts at “affection” are cold, distant, and unconvincing. While his remarks about “until today, I have had no love to share” could plausibly explain that, his interactions with the Sole Survivor are overwhelmingly manipulative and he definitely sees you more as an asset (and possible successor) than as family; his behavior in general is detached and similar to a high functioning sociopath, which also as a bonus explains why he treats Synths the way he does. To some extent, genuine humans are no different to him than Synths: everything and everyone is merely an asset to secure the Institute’s future dominance in the Commonwealth. He says what he needs to say to provoke the reaction he wants out of people and doesn’t necessarily stand behind a word of it.

So, I don’t think Father is actually Shaun. Of course he can claim this all he wants, but the Sole Survivor has no way of independently verifying this: Father has a vested interest in remaining an unreliable narrator, and also literally controls all paths to the truth that don’t involve going to the Brotherhood of Steel (who likewise can’t be trusted to give an honest answer if that honestly has potential to interfere with their mission).

From what we see of the Commonwealth, paternity tests are VERY DIFFICULT to pull off. Likely, the Brotherhood could do one. The Institute sure as hell could do one, but Father’s goal is manipulating the Sole Survivor into replacing Kellogg, and eventually, himself. It’d be like asking Stalin to conduct an ethics investigation on himself. OF COURSE HE’S GONNA SAY WHAT HE’S GONNA SAY.

But consider the actual evidence. What happens in this lead up to meeting Father at all?

Why, quite a lot, and if Father’s “plan” as described was actually a plan, he’d have to be a goddamn prophet.

He’d have to know that you wouldn’t get mauled to death by Yao Guais and Deathclaws, eaten by Feral Ghouls, killed by raiders, or any of the other fun and exciting means of death that the Wasteland has on offer, and then meet EXACTLY the right people who point you in EXACTLY the right direction about a half dozen times, that you’d somehow kill Kellogg (who has a well earned reputation as a One Man Army the mere mention of which makes some of the most hardened mercs in the Commonwealth shit themselves with fear) and THEN have access to the tech to use his brain as a film reel to poke through his memories to find out that the Institute uses teleportation to get in and out.

He also has absolutely no guarantee that you wouldn’t just mini-nuke Kelogg in the fight and that there’d be anything left to salvage.

Then he has to be able to predict that you can track down Virgil, kill a Courser, DECRYPT THE COURSER’S BRAINCHIP SOMEHOW, build a fucking teleporter INTERCEPTOR out of scraps, and come meet him in the first place.

How could ANYONE have reasonably predicted all that in advance?

There are simply way WAY too many points of not even possible but MOST GODDAMN LIKELY catastrophic failure in that plan. Had even a single thing happened slightly differently, had the Sole Survivor been 0.001% less lucky, the whole thing would have been shot to hell just like America was about two minutes after the bombs fell.

Maybe the Sole Survivor takes one too many bullets. Maybe Kellog’s Hippocampus doesn’t survive his death. Maybe Skinny Malone decides to finally trash Nick Valentine once and for all instead of locking him up. Maybe Dogmeat gets killed by literally ANYTHING in the Commonwealth that could kill a German Shepard (which realistically means everything – the place is somehow more hostile than all of Australia’s wildlife put together). Maybe Glory errs on the side of pragmatism and blows you away with her minigun when you first meet the Railroad.

Tons of stuff could have gone wrong that nobody could have predicted, but Father acts as though you followed his plans to the letter. That all that was meant to engineer a meeting with you. There would have been a ton of ways to do that in a simpler manner with a much lower risk of failure, starting by beaming a Courser right outside Vault 111 to say “Looking for your son? Come with me. We have a bit of explaining to do, but you can see him right now if you like.”

So either Father is either a future-seeing prophet with a magic mirror or something, or he’s actually even more shocked than you are that you actually made it to the Institute and is just trying to cover it up by saying “Sure yeah I’m your son and psssht yeah of course I totally meant to do all that.”

The alternative to that particular Occam’s Razor is that he’s simply so addicted to complexity that he’d get dizzy if you asked him to walk in a straight line.

He’s (probably) not Shaun.

It’s just a lie he told that grew bigger and bigger with each telling as he grew convinced that the Sole Survivor was so dangerous that they had to be harnessed by the Institute instead of someone else (or worse, being allowed to remain a free agent), and, preferably, molded into his replacement.

At least, that’s my read on the situation.

If he is Shaun, the game does a TERRIBLE job of convincing me, since we know that Father is a man of “rather flexible morality” depending on how he can justify things, meaning he can reasonably break any of his own rules and claim he didn’t actually break those rules.

Added to that, Doctors Sun and Crocker (independent medical authorities with no known ties to any faction) both confirm that surgery can change eye color, skin color, skeletal construction and musculature in the Fallout universe and is therefore not just a gameplay feature, meaning Father’s physical resemblance to the Sole Survivor means less than nothing in and of itself as the Institute is likely to have even more advanced capacities for surgery (they literally BUILD wholesale human beings on a factory floor, I mean c’mon). Deacon also supports the notion that surgery can change literally everything about a person’s appearance, but, admittedly, he’s…. Deacon and his word isn’t worth much unless it’s confirmed by independent authorities in the field… like Crocker and Sun would have already done by the time you meet Deacon.

Everything Father sets up can actually be knocked down by something else you’ve encountered in the lore of the game, so this leaves his ultimate parentage ambiguous at best. He might be Shaun. He might not be. It’s up to the player, ultimately, to decide (at least unless Fallout 5 somehow addresses it, which would cement things in canon) whether he is or not.

And I remain unconvinced that he is.

[killmebutneverinsultme]

Fic Interview Meme!

Name:

Oh god, so I guess I’m airing out all my own dirty laundry, aren’t I? Help. I’ll see if I can remember everywhere I’ve been.

On fanfiction.net, where you can find scribblings dated back to when I was 18 up to 26, I am under the delightfully inventive name of daemonfaeriequeen.

On whofic.com (A Teaspoon And An Open Mind) I’m under gallifreypirate (when I was 26-27).

deviantArt I uploaded some things under gallifreypirate and a secret one I’m not divulging because I shared it with someone else lmao.

On Ao3 I am vyxythepixie but also asgardianstarfish for my naughtier pseudonym where all the dead dove stuff goes. That’s all stuff I’ve written in my 30′s. 

Fandoms I write for: 

I don’t tend to find much time to write fanfic anymore as I’m too busy role-playing and writing with others. Currently I write in the PotC and Marvel fandoms.

All fandoms I’ve written for include: Labyrinth, PotC, Doctor Who, Marvel, Pokémon, various Depp movies (for a big crossover fic thing), Buffy the Vampire Slayer and a vague brush with Heroes and Fallout 4. A lot of it is hormonal drivel or hyperfixation.

Two-shot: Uh, I don’t think I’ve actually done a two-shot. The closest would be my dead dove Jones/Jack fic because it’s currently got two chapters and it wasn’t intended to go beyond the one awful thing but demand has nudged it onward.

Most popular multichapter: 

On ff.net it’s One Depp Too Far For Mr Wonka. Idk how to find hits stats on there that cover ‘all time’ but review-wise it clocked 351.

On Teaspoon it’s As Bad As It Looks, which is sadly unfinished, and the only reason it’s the most popular multi is it’s my only multi XD

For Ao3 on vyxythepixie, by hits, kudos and comments it’s Salvage. For asgardianstarfish by hits and kudos it’s Deserved (this has so many warnings and includes Thorki so go near it at your peril, it’s my second most awful thing I’ve ever written lmao). By comments it’s Beware the Three-Horned God, which is also Thorki and naughty.

Edit: So I totally ballsed this up and all the above are oneshots, whoops. My most popular multi for Ao3 by hits, kudos and comments is Settling Debts which is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written (like all the dead dove warnings) and not even my best writing but the internet knows what it wants.

Actual Worst Part of Writing: Having the time to do it. I have too many hobbies and responsibilities to knuckle down and work on fanfics. The other worst part, related to time, is how damn long I take to write anything. I am a very slow writer and I can’t even tell you why. Hours just pass.

How you choose your titles: Quotes from the fandom it pertains to, puns, underlying concept of the content.

Do you outline: For the big, long multi-chapters, sort of, yes. I’m a bit of a pantser though so I tended to just splurge what I could and write enough for me to decide to call it a ‘chapter’. Mostly because I’m being indulgent they tend to be oneshots or I just write whatever and don’t plan at all, only daydream.

Ideas I probably won’t get to but it would be nice: Finishing my unfinished fics. There are several I’d love to go back to. I would also really like to rewrite The Deepest Circle so that my bestie’s character represents what she is now, though that is one I really do intend to do one day. I’m really pleased with what the story could be and I want to share it with the PotC fandom.

Best writing habits: None lmao. Just getting the damn things finished and published so people can read them honestly?

Spicy opinion: Reviews and hits etc give me a boost but they’re not why I write fanfic. I write it because my soul screams to write things even if I want to splurge something and only 12 sickos in the world enjoy the weirdness I put out XD 

I stole this off @niksnarration 

Tagging: Any of my mutuals who write fanfiction and dare reveal their shameful secrets.

[nightglider124]

Simulation

So, like most people... I was not impressed with the newest and last in the series DCAMU movie; JLD: Apokolips War. 

It was honestly like some kind of awfully written fanfic. I hated it and my otp were literally tormented, so not a fan lmao. 

So, I did what most writers do in these scenarios. I wrote a bit of a fix it fic. It’s cliche and similar to ‘it was all a dream’ but it felt like a bit more of a believable route. They did it in YJ so I thought why not. 

Anyway, I hope this helps as some kind of comfort after watching that atrocious piece of garbage. ^.^

____________________________________________________

The light filled the entirety of the sky, stroking licks of gold and blinding white all across the planes of existence, swelling and growing until it was suffocating everything and everyone that was within its path.

It was enveloping them by the second, growing stronger and stronger and despite how hard Damian narrowed his eyes to try and catch one last fleeting glimpse of Flash sprinting across the ocean, in an attempt to reset their fractured timeline, the struggle was becoming one he could not control.

His chest felt tight, like all the air was slowly being released from his lungs and his heart was hammering, right against his ribcage. 

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he watched as Clark and Diana shielded their eyes from the onslaught of light that was swallowing them up. When he turned his head towards his father, however, he found Batman staring straight back at him, as if he knew something the others did not; something that he wanted Damian to piece together himself. 

His head was filled with so many things; memories, information… emotions.

No matter how much he tried to push it away, there was a weight in his heart. He had survived this ordeal with Darkseid, as well as those who currently surrounded him, even though the numbers were a little less than he had hoped for when they began the secondary crusade at redemption for those they had lost to the Apokoliptic tyrant two years prior. 

And yet, he didn’t feel like it was a victory. It felt bittersweet. They had finally won but at what cost? 

Half of humanity had been eradicated from existence or molded into some kind of slave herd to do Darkseid’s bidding for him. His friends, his team, his family; all of it had been ripped away from him and there was no coming back from it. There was no way to salvage what had happened, no matter what Kent was trying to spew as a pep talk.

The morale was empty and at that moment, waiting for the effects of the flashpoint to seize control of their world and rectify the magnitude of problems felt like an eternity but they had to wait; to simply sit and wait for their absolution and for the world to restart, not that any of them would remember.

That would probably be for the best. He didn’t want to remember living in this kind of dystopian future where everywhere he looked, there was destruction and roaring flames accompanied by an unsettling silence where in its stead should have been the reverberation of crowds and people, living their lives on a day to day basis.

Damian sighed and from where he sat, he glanced at Raven, dressed in her white uniform and cloak. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to this point in their relationship and it felt… unusual to him, like something wasn’t right, including where his feelings were concerned in accordance to the girl beside him.

He cared for her deeply; she was a teammate, his friend but anything more? He couldn’t be certain.

Shaking his head, Damian decided not to dwell, knowing whatever he was feeling would soon be erased and he would wind up with a completely different mindset in just a few minutes.

He scanned his surroundings from beneath his mask and his eyes fell upon his former team leader and his… brother. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Damian couldn’t stop how the weight became heavier, pulling his heart down towards his stomach like a wrecking ball was attached.

Raven was right. He had promised not to use the Lazarus Pit to revive Dick but, when everything was said and done and the dust had settled on the Titans joint demise, having tried their damndest to ensure Darkseid wouldn’t break their defenses and claim Earth, he felt cheated.

He had finally found a family who accepted him, flaws and all and he was supposed to just accept having them brutally torn away from him?

He couldn’t leave his brother there. He couldn’t just leave Dick lying there in a pool of his own blood, still trickling out from the wound in his chest. 

Damian had wanted to save all of them but he knew time had been of the essence. The quicker someone can be taken to the pit, the more likely it is that they will return as themselves. Or at least, that was what his grandfather had told him once as a boy. 

He hadn’t known how true it was or even if it was true at all but he had gotten Dick to the temple as quickly as he could.

Not that it had mattered in the end.

He’d gotten there too late. His heart had held hope that he would return to the living, just as he was but it wasn’t to be.

Damian exhaled through his nose and allowed the memory of that day to fade. He didn’t need to relive that as well. The straight jacket Dick constantly wore was reminder enough as to why he had immediately regretted using the pit. 

There are some things worse than death. He knew that now. Too bad it was about two years too late.

His eyes wandered across Kory’s face and his brows furrowed, aghast at what Darkseid had done to her. After he had returned ‘home’ to the League of Assassins, or what was left of it at least, he hadn’t looked back; didn’t have any knowledge of what had become of his dead teammates.

Some of them remained dead whilst others had purposes that did not expire when their lives had. Darkseid had ensured the strongest were put to work amongst his ranks, whether they wanted to or not. 

Kory had become one of his guards, with most of her body replaced with parts and machinery, perfecting her into a loyal, brainwashed slave; something Kory had once told him that she never wanted to be again.

Damian watched as Kory gently stroked some of Dick’s hair out of his face. His head rested on her lap whilst twitching and mumbling every now and then, his mind a warped version of what it had once been before any of this. It ticked overtime for different reasons now. 

He saw the hesitation, recognised the look of someone who now viewed themself as some kind of monster. She was careful of her hands, her fingers now replaced with metal daggers that looked sharp enough to cut steel if given the chance.

Kory lowered her hand and stared down at Dick, who was yet to wake from his tormented slumber. Damian took solace in the fact he had seemed to recognize Kory, somewhat.

When he had brought him to Titans tower where, what was left of their backup plan party, decided to rendezvous, he had been manic and animalistic, hissing and trying to attack those around him who he had once called friends.

Damian hadn’t been sure if it was a good idea but his father had suggested it, to start on resolving the problems caused from this apocalyptic fallout. 

When Kory had stepped forth, her lime eyes lingering on her love, Damian had seen tears; uncommon when it came to Kory considering her warrior upbringing. It caused her pain, of that he knew, if only from the way her footing faltered and she stayed back, in fear; something she had never ever felt around Dick in the life they’d shared before.

But, Dick had surprised them all, staring at her for a long moment and it gave him a strange flicker of hope that possibly, a piece of the real Dick was still in there somewhere, lost amongst all the mess in his mind. 

He had still been hesitant as she offered a hand to him. He jerked back but then stepped forward until he let her lead him to where they sat now. Damian was certain that things may change when he woke up but for now, it seemed to be enough for Kory just to spend these last few minutes with him, unaware of what awaited them in the new timeline Barry was creating. 

Just a few minutes of peace, sitting there with one another. 

Damian looked away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on something private to the couple, if he could even call them that anymore. 

His eyes shifted to the ocean, stretching wide and untouched in front of them, mother nature clearly protecting her own. The waves were gentle, flowing and ebbing and repeating. It seeped forward, water rushing over the bed of sand at the edge of the island before it retreated back from where it came.

Suddenly, there was a resounding pulse that rocked the air around them and a ringing in his ears started growing louder with each passing moment. The sound was becoming piercing and unbearable, so much so he had to lift a hand to one of his ears and grind his teeth in an effort to make it stop. 

The ground beneath their feet shook wildly as existence prepared to repair what had been damaged. That light that had been burning in the distance shone brighter, stretching over their heads now and soaring in from behind them as well, fully encompassing the last of the world’s greatest heroes and everything in the area, sentient or not. 

Damian gulped again, his mind confirming that Barry had done it and reality was resetting itself.

His skin felt sharp and he felt lightheaded, unable to make out any shapes or sounds around him anymore. His arms felt like they were being pulled away from his body, like something was expanding in his chest.

Damian willingly allowed what he assumed was the erasure of his being. He let a sigh of relief slip from between his lips as he finally felt himself disappearing into nothingness, along with all the other heroes around him.

Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he waited for their finality to come.

He was ready for it to change; go back to how it was before… before any of this.

No one deserved a fate such as this one. _______ Damian’s eyes snapped open and he gasped a haggard breath, his heart beating a mile a minute as all he could see was the blurred lights from the ceiling above his head. 

His fingers dug into what felt like sheets beneath him as he struggled to control his rapid breaths.

“Damian.” 

He recognized the steel tone of his father and he shot upward, moving fast enough to make his head spin.

Remembering his training since the age of two years old, he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils, taking charge of his body once again.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple, tiling his chin upward to see his father, wearing the cowl, sat just on the end of the little makeshift bed he appeared to be in.

“It’s alright, Damian… you’re back now. Everything is fine.” Bruce explained, nodding and giving no emotion away under the bat guise he had grown so comfortable in.

“Back?” Damian paused, “Back where?” 

“In the real world. The simulation is over. The others are starting to wake up.” Batman informed him before he stood up and looked down upon his son,

Damian only just now was noticing exactly where he was. 

High tech lined against the walls, the view of the solar system outside the huge glass windows and the metal paneling along the computer systems was enough to drag him straight back to reality. The watchtower wasn’t a place that a person could easily forget. 

Turning his body, he watched as his friends; the Titans started to come to from their unconscious states as well.

“Ugh… Bruce, when you said… you wanted us to go through training simulation… that was a lot different than what I thought you had in mind.” Dick groaned from his place several beds over from where Damian sat,

Nightwing sat up, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head as if getting over the remnants of a bad dream. He rolled his shoulders back before checking on each and every member of their team, all of them in a similar position to how he was sat. 

Donna was sitting with her legs crossed, Raven too and on the other side of them, Gar was still lying down but with an arm thrown across his face, moaning with nausea symptoms.

Kon, Jaime and Wally were already quietly murmuring between themselves over what they had just gone through and witnessed.

Dick turned his head to the left, his heart racing at some sounds he just knew belonged to Kory. He smiled softly as he watched her rub her head, fingers sliding through her long auburn hair that pooled beautifully down her back. 

“Ow… that was... much more brutal than I had anticipated…” Kory grunted, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to make her mind less muzzy. 

“How are you all feeling?” Diana asked, addressing them all as she stood at the panel, clicking a few buttons to ensure the simulation had ended properly as well as making sure no one was still unconscious. 

“Like I just got smacked in the head with a shovel…” Gar voiced, whining as he forced himself into a sitting position,

“That will pass in a few minutes. It took Vic a long time to figure out how to make this program without it having a lasting effect on us.” Superman told them, offering them one of his gentle smiles.

“Clark… what was this?” Dick asked, his brows furrowed as he stared at the man of steel, “I mean… now that I’m awake… I have it coming back to me that this was part of a… training exercise but after seeing… everything we just saw in there… I’d say it’s a little overboard just for mandatory training.” 

Superman sighed, losing the smile and he stared up at the images now lit upon the hologram screen behind him. There were photos of Darkseid and his homeworld, with some recent footage of said tyrant moving across planets in the furthest parts of the galaxy.

“Recently, there has been movement on Apokolips and footage was retrieved of Darkseid… taking control of three planets in his own dimension. They were small and lacked much life.” 

“But there was some life on those planets, right? Kory murmured, her brows knitted together in concern,

Clark nodded solemnly, “There was, Kory. To us, right now… Darkseid is not a threat. To the best of our knowledge, he isn’t considering Earth as a target to take control of. But, that could change, very quickly.”

“We don’t take his recent movements lightly and we’ve begun preparing different strategies and plans for when the time is right.” Bruce continued, his dark cape curling around his feet as he moved, “The simulations that just played out… they were completely in your mind, programmed by Vic for you to witness, as if you were there and what the possible outcomes could be, should we take the route that was created in this scenario.”

“Isn’t that…  a bit overkill? To design a program simply to test possibilities that might just be… hypothetical?” Jaime queried, dragging his knee to his chin as he stared at the three Justice League members. 

Superman made a small noise of apprehension before he looked back up, his eyes glossing over each and every member of the Titans, “None of you have ever had to face Darkseid… thankfully. He is… an interdimensional despot who holds immense power. He is not a criminal to be taken lightly. All the things you saw in this simulation are things he has been known to do to those planets he has already desecrated. Brutality and violence are his weapons and we need to be prepared for any situation involving him.” 

“These simulations are only being tested on the Justice League and Titans when we feel we may have mapped a possibly victorious battle plan. They will be few but this was one that had been considered, early on in our knowledge of what Darkseid has been doing.” Wonder Woman elaborated,

“But that plan clearly didn’t work… so why would you show it to us?” Raven asked, her dark eyes brushing across Clark who had apparently become her travelling companion when the world went down the drain in the simulation,

“We wanted to show you so that you can help us to rectify where… we may have gone wrong in the plan.” Clark told them,

Damian folded his arms over his chest, “It was probably taking the war to Darkseid without realizing how dangerous it would be which in the simulation, you already seemed to realize once it was too late.” He paused and thought back on something from the simulation, “Oh and… there was the fact Darkseid knew the whole plan from hacking Cyborg’s cybernetic eye.” 

Superman nodded his head, “Yes, we’re… talking to Victor about preventing this. It would have probably ended differently in the simulation, had Darkseid not learned everything before the plan was executed.” 

“You can’t plan for what you don’t know yet.” Raven reminded them,

Clark gave her a smile, “No, but we can try in order to keep our future as far away from the possibility of what you just lived through.” 

The Titans nodded amongst themselves, understanding their efforts and all secretly hoping they wouldn’t have to face anything like what they’d seen for a long time or ever, if the universe deemed them lucky.

“I can’t believe I died right at the start!” Gar complained, his playful nature reinserting some lightheartedness where it was desperately needed, “I mean… a guy plays all the video games in the world and I can’t even make it?”

Raven smirked and glanced at him, “I don’t think video games and Darkseid are exactly the same, Gar.”

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Yeah, well. I’m not happy about it! I want a redo!”

Damian rolled his eyes before raising a brow at him, “You want to live through that all again?”

Gar paused and blinked several times before grinning sheepishly, “Uh… on second thought… I’m good. Sad I went out that early but y’know what… I’m good!”

“If you’re all feeling a little more with us now, come into the hall. We want your feedback.” Batman told them, leading the way into the hall, followed by Diana and then the Titans, with Superman politely showing them the way through the watchtower.

“Feedback on this training? Hm… that would be a solid 0/10, Bruce.” Dick muttered as he helped Kory hop down from the medical bed she had been perched upon, earning a quiet giggle from her,

Clark smiled at the two as they continued after the other Titans, right on Batman’s heels to give their input into what the Justice League were planning, in case of an emergency.

_______________

Gar’s mouth stretched wide as he lifted his arms over his head and yawned loudly, earning an elbow in the stomach from Donna as she passed him,

“Ow! Hey! What’d I do?” He grumbled, rubbing the spot she had hit,

“Do you really have to be that loud, Gar?” She laughed, shaking her head, “Just yawn like a normal person, would you?” 

He smirked, flashing a fang in her direction, “Nah, there’s no fun in that.”

Kory cleared her throat before they could all escape in opposite directions to their respective bedrooms, “Titans. I need to speak with you all for a moment, please.” 

The group exchanged glances between one another, curiosity washing over each of them before they shuffled towards the couch, situated just in front of the large window panes where the moonlight was already beginning to filter through. 

“Are… we in trouble? Whatever it is… I didn’t do it.” Kon rebuffed, immediately holding his hands up in defense as he took a seat on the edge of the sofa,

“Me either!” Gar and Jaime added simultaneously,

Kory smiled softly and shook her head at them, walking around until she stood before them, “No. You’re not in trouble; any of you.”

“So… what do you want to talk to us about, Kory?” Raven queried, giving her leader a small smile,

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened today.” 

Gar’s brows knitted together, “You mean the training over at the watchtower?” 

The Princess nodded her head, her long red locks falling over her shoulder.

Damian narrowed his eyes, equally perplexed and confused as his teammates, “What about it?”

Kory took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest, “Well… the things in the simulation that happened, that you saw… it was…” She paused and tried to grapple for the correct word,

“Pretty traumatic.” Dick interjected, aiding her and coming to stand by her side, having a feeling he knew what Kory was aiming for with this little chat, “And, it’s okay if it affected you guys. God knows… it was a lot for a training session based on possibility.”

Instead of doing what the adult Titans thought they would, the younger roster of heroes remained silent, all of them contemplating and reflecting on what they had been witness to whilst under the spell of the simulation. 

Kory frowned and her brows wrinkled before she looked to Dick, who only matched her facial expression. 

“I mean… I joked about being murdered by those parademon things so early on in it but… it was pretty scary. The simulation was designed differently so we didn’t wake up as soon as we died inside of it. I had to watch it all unfold… like some kind of horror movie… not so cool when it’s your friends being killed instead of fictional characters.” Gar mumbled, his jade eyes focused on the coffee table before them with his hands pressed firmly to his thighs. 

Jaime nodded, “It was… espantoso. It just… went south so quickly.”

Donna made a noise of agreement and shuddered, as if gripped by a memory from the simulated battle. Wally looked off to the side, unable to speak about what he felt, just yet anyway.

Kon lifted his chin and his usual boisterous and cheeky demeanour had slipped, “I don't know if it was worse or not… living longer in that world wasn’t much fun either.” He gently reached a gloved hand to his neck and he closed his eyes, “I can still remember how… my neck…”

He coughed and shook his head, clamming up from talking through the experience of it all.

Kory looked towards Raven and tilted her head, as if encouraging her to speak about how she had felt, “Raven?”

She lifted her head and lowered the hood of her cloak from her head, “I… It was… I’ve seen terrible things before. Being the daughter of an interdimensional demon will do that but this… it was barbaric and I hope it never actually comes to pass.”

Dick nodded, “Well… this is why the league is trying to come up with a more solid plan, a way to be ready should Darkseid be a problem we need to worry about.” He paused and shrugged, “Safe to say… Clark’s plan of going head on into a war with Darkseid on his home world is no longer the plan on the table.”

“There were too many inconsistencies and problems with his plan. But, it would have been intriguing to see if it worked, had Darkseid not found out through Cyborg’s cybernetics.” Damian pointed out, looking mildly indifferent,

Nodding, Dick eyed his adoptive younger brother for a long moment, “And what about you, Damian?”

Damian looked up, his arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his face. For a moment, he did nothing more than stare at Dick before his features softened ever so slightly and he frowned, “It isn’t something that I ever wish to see again.”

Knowing that was all Damian was willing to give them, at least for tonight, Dick exhaled and nodded once, signalling that he didn’t expect more. 

He glanced towards his girlfriend whose concern was almost tangible, just from the way her face was contorted. She chewed on her lip for a long time before she sighed and her shoulders fell, 

“We will revisit this tomorrow. I do not want anyone to feel like this was something small. If anything, I wish the league had given us more of a warning of what we were going into.” Kory commenting, briefly locking her gaze with Dick’s who looked equally as unhappy that they had been left out of the loop,

“Yeah, I think I’ll be giving Bruce a call tomorrow.” He paused and addressed the younger Titans once more, “And… Kory and I will be arranging some therapy sessions with a league member to deal with the things you saw.”

“I don’t think we need-” 

Dick cut Damian off with a raised hand, “We’re not going to force you guys into them but they will be made available to you all, should you need to talk to someone.”

Damian pressed his lips into a thin line and gave Dick one sharp nod. 

“Do you guys mind if we… go to bed now? I kinda just wanna sleep it off…” Gar muttered, tapping his fingertips together,

Kory smiled and nodded, “Of course, Gar. Dick and I are going to make sure the Tower is all locked up before we go home but we will be back in the morning…” She paused and let her eyes wander across them, “And I believe morning training can be cancelled tomorrow.”

Gar suddenly perked up at that news, “Yes! I get to sleep in!” 

She giggled whilst Dick smirked and rolled his eyes, “But… remember, if one of you needs us… just call us. Okay?”

They all nodded their heads in confirmation before they began trudging off towards their rooms, muttering their farewells and goodnights before they left.

Once the main room had practically emptied of Titans, only Damian remained and as he passed by the couple, he stopped and looked up at his brother,

“Apologies for… using the Lazarus Pit on you, Grayson.” He stated, something in his face telling Dick that he had hoped for a better outcome of his decision made within the simulation.

His older brother gave him a brief smile and gripped one of his shoulders with his hand, “It’s alright, Damian. Let’s just hope it never has to come to it where you have to make that kind of choice for real.” 

Damian considered that and wished them goodnight before he left for his room as well. 

Dick watched him go but his attention was drawn back to the woman standing beside him as she sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

“How’re you feeling, Kor?” He checked, lacing his fingers with hers,

She turned and smiled at him, exhaustion slipping into the creases of her face, “Tired… and wanting to go to bed.” 

He matched her smile and lifted her hand to his mouth, dropping a kiss to the back of it, “Don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s go home.”

_______________

Dick took a deep breath as he observed himself in the bathroom mirror, his hair still damp and water dribbling down his face after hopping out of the shower. He was trying his best to remain unaffected by the scenes that had plagued him in the simulation earlier that day but it was proving to be a challenge to just push all of it to the back of his mind. 

He couldn’t pinpoint what was the worst part; knowing the world had gone up in flames, knowing his friends and family had mostly perished or been altered into husks of their true selves at the hands of Darkseid or knowing that he had potentially faced a lifetime of insanity due to a botched resurrection, unable to remember himself or those he loved.

It may not have been real but it was difficult, trying to remind himself of that. It was hard to accept that truth when it had felt so very real. Images continued to flash in his mind; memories of what had occurred in that world they had had to endure. 

He gritted his teeth and tried to quell the anger bubbling in his chest at the comprehension that Bruce, as well as Diana and Clark, hadn’t felt it necessary to even run their little project by him or Kory first; instead throwing them in blind, along with the younger members of the team. 

The rational part of his mind told him it was so they would become immersed within the situation handed to them so that they could act upon instinct whereas knowing ahead, would have compromised how they acted within the simulation.

Still, it was something he would be bringing up to Bruce in the morning. 

Taking another deep inhale through his nose, Dick focused on his reflection again, repeating words over and over in his head as a reminder that it wasn’t real. It felt real, but it wasn’t and he had to hold onto that, whatever it took.

He shook his head and reached for the hairdryer, flicking the switch and allowing the hot air from it to fill the bathroom.

As he wandered down the hallway, from the bedroom he shared with Kory, he couldn’t help but wonder where she had disappeared to. Their apartment was only so big, meaning if she wasn’t in their room already then she had to be out in the main room.

“Kory?” He called as he stepped over the threshold between the corridor and the main living area. 

Dick reached over and flicked one of the light switches, allowing the glow of the bulbs to illuminate the room; a much more welcomed atmosphere than being swallowed up by the night time darkness.

He blinked in surprise to see her standing by the far wall where the floor to ceiling window overlooked the bustling street below the building. It was still painted with bright lights and the buzz of people hanging out with friends, despite it being well past midnight.

She turned to him, as if not having heard him the first time around.

“Babe, what’re you doing all in the dark?” Dick asked, walking around the side of the couch, towards her. 

Kory shook her head, as if lost in a world of her own but he knew her better than that. He knew what was haunting her mind since it was the only thing that could be the culprit. 

“Hey… c’mere…” He murmured, offering her a hand to take.

She stepped closer and accepted, tangling her fingers with his until Dick gently pulled her down onto the sofa with him. He tugged her closer, using his free arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“I am sorry… I just…” She whispered, her usually bouncy personality seemingly absent for the time being,

“It’s okay… it scared me too.” He admitted,

Finally, she lifted her chin, her solid green gaze fixed on his cerulean orbs. She gave into a trembling breath before she spoke, “I have seen many merciless things, Dick. Growing up on a hostile planet such as my own, it was not uncommon to see bloodshed but… this… it was different.” 

He nodded as he listened to her, gently stroking her upper arm as she talked.

“Having to watch those I love being slaughtered… to then die myself and be brought back as a… mindless slave to such a dictator…” She shook her head minutely, unsure what to make of it,

“I know it was only a simulation to test out the league’s contingency plan for if Darkseid does become a more imminent threat but… it feels as real as anything we’ve faced before.” Dick told her,

She felt tears prick her eyes for a brief moment as she thought back on the end of their virtual reality and she snuggled closer to him, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath her slender fingers. 

“The worst part was that I no longer had you.” She confessed quietly.

He inclined his head to look at her and furrowed his brows, “You… sorta still had me.”

She pulled a face at him and glanced down to where her hand rested on his chest, “But I didn’t. It wasn’t you, anymore. Living on as… what that thing turned me into and having a shell of who you are… it is not a life I would ever wish upon myself. It would have been a fate worse than death.”

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his cheek to hers, trying to remind her that he was here with her and they were together.

“Apparently not even being insane can take me away from you.” He mentioned, attempting to inject some kind of humor into the situation, if just to uplift the mood in some way.

She blinked at him before she laughed, just a small sound under her breath but he was happy with it nonetheless. 

“You know… I wouldn’t want it either, Kory.” He paused, “In the training… after the pit… I was watching myself and living it… I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t recognize any of my friends or family… and I don’t ever want that to happen. I never want to be brought back.”

Kory opened her mouth, as if going to question it but he cut her off,

“Ever. Even if… I die before you and you’re stricken with uncontrollable grief… please don’t ever let it happen.”

She gazed at him for a long time but soon nodded her head, vowing not to bring him back, no matter what.

After a long stretch of comfortable silence, Dick sighed and kissed her temple, murmuring, “I have a feeling sleep isn’t coming easily to either of us tonight… why don’t we watch a movie and I’ll make some popcorn?”

Kory smiled softly and nodded, brushing her fingers across his cheek, “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Glad you approve.” He grinned, gently using his free hand to cup her jaw and lead her into a kiss. 

It started as something slow and easy, acting as a reaffirmation of being safe and sound with one another. But, Kory tilted her head, pressing her lips to his more firmly, enjoying the warmth that sparked wherever they met. 

Dick slid his hand along her jawline, his fingers becoming knotted in her gorgeous red tresses. He ran his tongue along her lower lip, nipping and suckling the skin there.

Kory made a muffled sound and lifted both hands to place against either side of her love’s face. 

When she pulled away, she smiled gently and brushed her nose against his until he rested his forehead against hers.

“I know we’ve had a hell of a day… with the training and everything but… it wasn’t real. I’m still here and so are you. We’ve got each other and I don’t plan on giving you up anytime soon, Kory.” Dick whispered, stroking his thumb against her skin.

“I know… I love you.” She breathed, nuzzling his cheek with her own,

“Love you too, babe.” He flashed her one of his boyish grins and tilted his head, “Gotta make every day count together.”

Kory nodded and smiled back at him, “Together.”

[katahnisharma]

the press tour [11 pt. 1] | t.h.

Word Count: 1.9 K 

Warnings: Because Claire @neverlandparker​ is a cutie and gave me the idea of splitting up chapter 11 into two parts, the second part will be out Tuesday!

Summary: You’re a new, inexperienced actress plucked from the obscurity of everyday life to play the lead in the reboot of a famous British Jane Austen novel, and Tom Holland just so happens to be playing your love interest.

A/N: This is a little shorter but I wanted to get into Tom’s head a little and have you guys understand him a bit :) I’m a little down so if you could just tell my if you liked this or legit even hated it I’d love the feedback! Also Tumblr apparently won’t let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist, or writing challenge it’s in my bio ♡

“Haz, I would come to the pub quiz, but we just went on a double date and I don’t really want to spend anymore time with him. It bothers Adrian.” You were on the phone with Harrison the Saturday after the date, which had ended as awkwardly as it began. After Tom and Adrian came back from the bathroom, you could tell they had fought over something. Tom wouldn’t look at you the rest of the time, and he barely said two words. Adrian kept a possessive hand on your thigh, which only made you uneasy. Zendaya, though she gave it her best effort, couldn’t salvage the night.

You were so relieved when it was over.

“Ah yes, the dinner date from hell. How was it? Tom wouldn’t say much about it.” Harrison laughed, shooing Monty away from his feet. You were in LA and he was in London, but he’d been trying to get you to visit for weeks now. You knew you couldn’t keep putting it off.

“It was terrible, the whole thing was so awkward. Poor Z tried to make it work, but Tom wasn’t having it. He and Adrian were in the bathroom together for a while so I know something went down, but Adrian won’t tell me anything. Of course, it’s obvious he has a problem with Tom and I just can’t handle the stress.” You whined, collapsing on your couch and avoiding Bailey’s piles of paper everywhere. She’d been in the process of a massive reorganization and your house looked like a bomb had gone off.

“See, this is why you need to get away. Just come over for the weekend, let Adrian sort himself out. It’ll be fun, I promise. And Charlotte misses you, she says you’re more fun than Tom and I.” Harrison pleaded, his voice dropping a bit when Tom came into the room. He raised an eyebrow at Harrison and mouthed Who’s that?.

“You know, I’m going to regret this. But fine, I’ll come this weekend. I need a vacation, even if staying with you is more like being your maid.” You sighed, getting up to go pack. Tom sat next to Harrison and pretended like he was on his phone, but he was really trying to listen in on the conversation. The voice on the other end sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Great, everyone will be so happy! Monty is excited, I can already tell. Fly out tonight and I’ll come pick you up at the airport. And don’t worry, I’ll leave you-know-who behind.”  whispered, shoving Tom away who was trying to listen in. You chuckled and found your suitcase behind your closet, taking it out and checking to make sure it was big enough.

“Thanks Haz, I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and started folding clothes to take, texting Bailey to let her know you’d be leaving and to tell Adrian. It had been weird between you two after the date, and you knew it should have been you telling him but you didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Bailey would be able to talk him down.

“Who was that?” Tom asked, trying to be nonchalant about it. Harrison rolled his eyes, knowing that he was secretly curious, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to tell him about you. Tom would definitely not be calm about it.

But then again, you were going to be here in a couple of hours.

“Um, it was Y/N. She’s coming here for the weekend.” Harrison said, ignoring Tom’s open mouth. Tom felt his heart drop and race simultaneously, not sure how he was going to handle seeing you. What was he going to do, just avoid you the entire time to ignore his feelings? Tom hadn’t spoken to Zendaya in days, and even she knew the reason why.

“Oh, um, that’s cool. Cool, yeah, you know….Y/N’s cool. Great, I’m gonna go shower. Maybe...uh...I can come with you to the airport?” Tom stuttered, trying to hide his nerves. Harrison wanted to laugh, but restrained himself.

“If you want? I mean, just don’t do anything stupid please.” Harrison said, getting up to change. Tom nodded silently, his mind racing with all the things he had to do to get ready. He’d need to shave, change his clothes, appear like he wasn’t a nervous wreck. Appear like he was over you, when he’d fallen deeper. It was like fighting his heart, and Tom was losing

Shit, why did you have to come and make everything difficult?

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while” Bailey was quick to give you her opinion while you were packing, and part of you knew she was right.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Okay, thank you. Love that you’re so concerned, but I’ll be fine. If Tom is there, I’m just gonna ignore him.” You said, zipping up your bag. There wasn’t much to take for the weekend, and you never packed much to begin with. Bailey opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind at the last minute.

“Alright, everything’s done. My flight is in an hour and a half, so I’m gonna head out now. You’ll be okay alone, right?” You teased, watching her roll her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a big girl, I think I can take care of myself. Keep me updated, okay? And if it gets too weird, just come home. Harrison will just have to deal with Tom on his own.” Bailey replied, helping you carry your purse downstairs.

“Seriously, what’s the worst that can happen? He tries to kiss me or something, which we both know will NEVER happen. We both don’t like each other, Tom will stay away from me I can guarantee it.” You said, waving to the driver outside and giving Bailey a quick hug. She squeezed you a little, watching you get into the car.

“Did you tell Adrian?” She called from the door, and you froze for a minute. You had not, in fact, told your boyfriend you were leaving for the weekend. To spend it in London with a friend that wasn’t a girl and his apparent enemy. You hadn’t even told him you were free for the weekend.

Well, too late now.

“Yeah, of course.” You lied, watching her relax a little. She waved from the door as the car pulled away, and you sat back in your seat as the driver kept his eyes on the road.

You really should have told Adrian.

“Mate, you didn’t need to get all dressed up for her. She’s got a boyfriend.” Harrison sniggered when Tom came out looking very dressed up. It was something he’d worn to Jimmy Kimmel once, and Harrison could see Tom’s face burn at his words.

“Shut up, it’s not that fancy. I know she’s got a boyfriend, he threatened me in the bathroom last week.” Tom grumbled, taking his phone from the table. Harrison quirked an eyebrow, but he didn’t push it. This was the first he was hearing about an actual confrontation from Tom, but he wouldn’t have put it past Adrian. He didn’t much like your boyfriend either.

“Can I ask you something?” Harrison ventured, testing the waters a little. Tom rolled his eyes, putting on his shoes by the door.

“Can I even stop you?” He groaned, standing up and crossing his arms. Harrison got his keys from the couch and moved closer, studying Tom’s face.

It was nervous, he knew what Harrison was going to ask.

“Are you in love with her?”

Tom’s eyes widened a little, but not enough to indicate he was surprised by the question. He had to have known it was coming. He looked down quickly, but Harrison caught the sight of his eyes watering a little. For a moment it was radio silence, and Harrison thought he wouldn’t answer. The tears spilled out of Tom’s eyes.

“What does it matter if I am?” Tom’s voice was quiet, like he was struggling to get it out. He knew that once he said those words, he was truly fucked. Harrison knew that too, which was why he wasn’t prepared for what Tom said next.

“I love her, Haz. And I don’t know how to stop.” Tom wiped his eyes, feeling his resolve crumble. All the days he spent telling himself to get over you, because he was the one who ruined everything. Tom had only half believed the lie, and now that the words had materialized in front of him it washed over him like a wave. The pain, the heartbreak, the intense pining and longing for someone he couldn’t have.

Because you weren’t his to want. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“I don’t think love works like that. You just have to let it go, Tom.” Harrison was startled when Tom hugged him, feeling him shudder a little. He’d known all along, that you had taken a part of him. It was so easy to see, the way you made him feel. Harrison remembered how excited Tom had been when you said yes to the date, the way he talked about you and how his eyes lit up.

Where had it all gone wrong?

“If I see her, I might lose my mind. I’ve been beating myself up over what happened, and it hurts even thinking about it. I thought if I stayed away, remembered what that prick told me, it would go away. Why does it hurt so much?” Tom cried, wetting Harrison’s shirt slightly. Harrison let him cry for a few minutes, knowing Tom would feel better after. He didn’t know what to say or do, he had yet to be in love. But this wasn’t like anything Harrison had seen before, Tom had never been this way.

What he felt was real, it was vulnerable and raw. And you meant more to him than he’d thought.

“Tom? I’m going to say something and I want you to listen.” Harrison said, and Tom broke away rubbing at his eyes.

“You need to tell her how you feel, before it’s too late. Tell her everything, or you’re gonna lose her forever.” Harrison put a hand on Tom’s shoulder, passing him to get to the door. Tom stood still, staring ahead at the wall.

“What if she still hates me? Or she’s in love with Adrian?” Tom’s voice cracked, not wanting to turn around and face his best friend. Because he knew what Harrison would say, and it frightened him.

“You have to make up your mind, Tom. Either you want her or you don’t. But you’re gonna have to fight for Y/N, she deserves a lot. And if you really love her, then you’ll sober up and join the battle. It’s your call.” Harrison sighed, opening the door and leaving Tom alone in the living room. Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes, your face being the first thing he saw. It had been the only thing he’d seen for weeks at night.

Tom knew what he had to do. He was scared, but it was clear to him.

He had to win you back before it was too late.

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[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 10 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. You guys are awesome! We are attempting to post a chapter a week, so hopefully we can keep that up for awhile! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Courtney started learning the Galactica ropes, and had a bit of a mishap with Fame’s coffee order.

This Chapter: Violet deals with the fallout from Courtney’s accident and prays that they’ll all make it through the day alive.

***

“VIOLET!”

The blood turned to ice in Violet’s veins at the sound of her name.

She rose from the desk, where Fame’s dishes were patiently waiting for Courtney to get her ass back upstairs with the food, and hurried into the hallway. Her eyes bulged at the sight of a terrified Courtney, a half-empty coffee cup in one hand, and to-go bag from the cafeteria in the other—but something worse, much worse, was a giant brown stain on Fame’s one of a kind creamy white hand-bleached merino cape, which she shrugged off and tossed to Violet like it was a rag.

“Who is this clumsy, slack-jawed imbecile?” Fame asked icily.

Violet knew better than to answer that question, but Fame expected her to say something, and all Violet could do was attempt to salvage the situation.

“Let me take your cape, Miss.” Violet snatched the breakfast out of Courtney’s hand and hissed under her breath, “Get her a new latte right away.”

Courtney’s big green eyes were misty and full of fear. Violet could tell that she was ready to burst into tears, but she didn’t have time to deal with her anxiety. She had enough on her plate already.

“I-”

“Go!”

Violet turned on her heel, quickly following Fame into her office. She plated her breakfast in record time, hoping that the food would somewhat appease her, even as Fame made a disgusted face at the (now lukewarm) latte, holding out the cup and proclaiming, “trash,” which Violet figured was nice of her under the circumstances.

She took the cup from her hands and dropped it into the trash, putting her breakfast down in front of her, beside the napkin-wrapped cutlery.

“I’m having lunch with Bianca at Café Boulud. I need a table.” Violet nodded. It was one of the more popular cafes in Manhattan, but the head waiter loved Bianca, so if she texted Bianca’s assistant they could probably get in. “Arrange a meeting with Trixie before I leave. Full status report and if he likes his job he’s bringing whatever samples they have. After lunch, I expect to see the progress that Alyssa’s team has made on the new campaign.”

“Yes, Miss.” Violet placed a glass on Fame’s desk, filling it with some Pelligrino from her mini-fridge, hoping that the fresh coffee would arrive quickly.

“Tell Alaska that I’m still waiting on the swatches for the new palettes. Have them before the end of the day. That’s all.”

Violet nodded, relieved. It would be hell to get all of this done before Courtney returned, but she could do it, the storm almost over. Violet turned to leave, when she was stopped by a silky smooth voice.

“Oh, and Violet…”

Shit. She turned back around.

“When I approved this new assistant,” Fame tapped a pen against her desk. “I expected a competent adult, not a moronic child who can’t complete a simple coffee order without a disaster. She is your responsibility to manage and train, and every single thing she does reflects on you. Do you understand?”

Violet knew that the question was rhetorical, so she just nodded, backing away slowly as Fame turned to her computer.

After calling the dry cleaners to request an emergency rush on the cape, Violet dialed a different number.

“Reception...”

“Roxy.”

“Oh, hey Violet. Have you died yet?”

"Almost. That new assistant? Courtney? She's a hot mess and Miss Fame is pissed-"

"Yeah, I saw," Roxy chuckled, and Violet just knew she was checking out her nails. “I’m honestly shocked she’s still alive.”

"You need to take her off my hands for a few hours, or we could be in serious shit-"

"Fuck my life,” Roxy groaned. “You expect me to babysit?"

"Do you want a Christmas 2013 Fame stomping around?" Violet asked pointedly.

"No," Roxy said with a resigned sigh.

"Show her the phone system, teach her how to schedule. I don’t care, as long as you keep her out of trouble.”

***

Courtney’s heart pounded as she peeked timidly around the corner into her office, fresh latte in her hands. It had taken way too long to get it, waiting in line at the shop one of the most intense forms of torture Courtney had ever tried.

Violet noticed her immediately, walking over and taking the cup, a stern expression on her face.

“Am I gonna get fired?” Courtney whispered, tears brimming in her eyes again. She’d promised herself downstairs that she wouldn’t cry, but it looked like she’d be breaking that promise. Just one more failure on top of all her others today.

Violet seemed to take pity on her for a second, expression softening as she said, “Not just yet.”

“Violet, I’m so sorry, I-”

“I know.” Violet pressed Fame’s cape and a note into her hands. “Take this to Fame’s cleaners right away - the address is on the paper, and so is the account number. Make sure you ask for Anthony, he’s the manager and he knows it’s a rush job.”

“Okay,” Courtney said, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

“It’s best if you stay out of sight for a little while. When you get back, our receptionist, Roxy,  will show you how the phones work and how to set up conference calls and roll with Fame.”

Courtney nodded, about to leave when she grasped Violet’s arm and said, “I really need this job.”

“We all need something, Courtney.”

Violet turned and walked towards Fame’s door with the coffee, and Courtney headed for reception, blinking back tears. While she didn’t think that being exiled was a good sign, she had to admit that she was a bit relieved to be out of Fame’s presence for the rest of the morning.    

***

In spite of Roxy’s aloof, chilly demeanor, Courtney found herself liking her. She took her through the phone system, showing her how everything worked—it was slow enough that Courtney followed, but not so slow that she felt patronized. Roxy even had Courtney try answering for awhile to practice, until she felt comfortable enough that Roxy could actually take a bathroom break.

When she came back, she showed Courtney the shared calendar system that Violet had briefly sped through that morning, and this time around, it made a lot more sense.

The only moment of anxiety happened a few hours later, when Fame once again strolled through reception towards the elevators, wearing an entirely different cream wrap. Courtney froze, praying that she wouldn’t give her another death glare, but to her relief, Fame never so much as glanced her way.

Her heart was just returning back to its resting rate when Violet appeared before her.

“Come on,” the brunette said. “I’m taking you to lunch.”

***

Violet had rarely felt so relieved to be sent down for lunch. But the morning had been harrowing, and Roxy told her that Courtney had done really well on phones, so she decided that a little trip to the cafeteria would be acceptable.

“So, Courtney,” Violet handed Courtney a container, the two of them standing side by side at the salad bar, “You can eat whatever you want, but never, ever, ever bring any type of fish, onions,  or, really, anything that smells into the office. Fame is not above throwing your food away.”

Courtney laughed, and Violet smiled though Fame’s displeasure wasn’t really a laughing matter when you were on the receiving end of it. Violet was just about to continue to warn Courtney about garlic, when she felt the sensation of someone watching them. Violet looked around, her eyes falling on a large group of the building's typical corporate drones who was very very clearly ogling Courtney’s ass.

“Ah.” Violet should really have predicted this, but the coat incident had thrown her completely off her game. “I forgot about the suits.”

“The suits?” Courtney asked, confused.

“Galactica only owns the top 4 floors of this building.”

“Yeah?”

“The other floors are taken up by your usual corporates. Law firms, investment companies and so on. I didn’t think when I took you here but most of their employees, for some godforsaken reason, see the cafeteria as a dating ground.”

Violet rolled her eyes. It had caught her completely off guard when she was a new hire, and she didn’t want Courtney to deal with what she had gone through.

“If you work at Galactica, you’re already on the arm candy radar, and if you’re as beautiful as you are, there’s no way you won’t be a target.”

“Aww, you think I’m beautiful?” Courtney preened, and Violet wrinkled her brow. Had Courtney heard nothing else she had just said? “Thank you, Violet, I think you’re beautiful too-”

“This was a mistake,” Violet said, cutting her off as one of the suits broke free from the crowd and walked towards them. “Get your food, we’re leaving.”

Violet quickly tossed a few spoonfuls of cucumber and broccoli into her container so they could pay and get out of the cafeteria. She was almost done when one of the suits sidled up beside her.

“Hey, Violet.”

“Hello Shawn,” she mumbled, gesturing for Courtney to hurry along. The blonde was carefully placing tomatoes in her salad as if she were painting a Picasso. If she would put that much attention to detail into her actual job, Violet would have her trained in no time.

“So, seeing as how you never responded to my last 2 texts…” Shawn began.

There was a very specific reason for that. Shawn had asked Violet out for drinks. It hadn’t been entirely terrible, but she had no interest at all in repeating the experience. Shawn had talked about the car he was going to buy all through the evening, barely asking her a single question, and while the kiss goodnight had been brief, it had also been uncomfortably wet.

“How about you introduce me to your friend?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Funny as always, Violet. Thank god you’re pretty, huh?” Shawn turned to Courtney, holding out his hand. “Hi, beautiful. I’m Shawn.”

“Hi, I’m Courtney,” she said, lashes fluttering. Violet bit her lip, a twinge of cringe shooting through her fingertips; if Courtney started dating a suit right out of the gate, it didn’t fare well for her ability to concentrate in the office.

“I’d love for us to be friends, Courtney. How do you like French wine?”

“Love it,” Courtney cooed. “Why don’t you send me a bottle that I can share with my actual friends?”

She sprinkled some sunflower seeds on her salad with a flourish and flounced away towards the register, not even looking back over her shoulder to see Shawn’s reaction. A few tables over, his buddies had burst out laughing at the rejection, jeering at him.

Violet chuckled and followed Courtney to the register, relieved and maybe even a tiny bit proud.

***

“So...what’s wrong?” Bianca asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Fame asked, looking up at her friend who was in one of her bright yellow maxi dresses, her brown hair put up in an intricate bun, a patterned scarf tying it all in place.

Fame had expected, had hoped, for a nice meal at one of her favorite cafes with one of her favorite people, but the look in Bianca’s eyes were telling a very different story.

“Well...you’ve barely touched your salmon...” Bianca pointed. It was true that Fame had barely tucked into her dish, the grilled salmon on a bed of greens usually gone within minutes. “...and you have that look on your face.”

“What look?” Fame asked crossly, putting down her fork and knife. It was so annoying when Bianca pretended to know her.

“That look. The pouty one.”

“Do not,” Fame huffed. Actually, it was just as annoying when Bianca did know her, the other woman always seeing right through her, but Fame refused to acknowledge that she was pouty, even if Bianca was probably right.

“Come on, what’s the problem?” Bianca reached over the table, touching her wrist. “Feeling tense?”

“I’m not-”

“Need a quickie in the bathroom?” Bianca licked her lips, mischief playing in her eyes.

“Don’t offer unless you’re prepared to deliver,” Fame deadpanned, stabbing a piece of carrot with her fork.

“Ha!” Bianca threw back her head and cackled. Fame almost wanted to bristle, wanted to fight against the familiarity.

It had been years since she and Bianca had slept together, over a decade actually, and still, the other always managed to get under her skin.

“This is what I love about you, blondie. You know what you want.” Bianca grinned, dimples deep in her cheeks.

“I usually do.” Fame took a delicate sip of her sparkling Voss water, eyes drifting out towards the window.

“Okay, so...what’s on your mind?”

“I’m just not sure if I’ve been fair with my employees.” Fame sighed. “Raja seemed upset with me this morning.”

“Raj was born holding a grudge.” Bianca popped a bit of bread in her mouth.

Fame knew that Raja and Bianca loved each other, but she also knew that they were far too alike not to get on each other's nerves.

“Are you sure she hasn’t just had a tiff with her majesty?”

Fame hid a smile. Raja’s girlfriend was demanding, even commanding, but she also challenged Raja at every turn, the two actually keeping each other on their toes, which they both needed.

“No, I have been rather tough on them, with the spring line and-”

“Is it working?” Bianca asked, ever the pragmatist.

“Yes,” Fame’s lips curved up in a sly smile. “All of the new stuff...it’s fabulous. I think you’re going to be very pleased.”

Bianca had always been supportive of Fame, but never gave unearned praise—in many ways, her rise to editor-in-chief of Marie Claire had coincided with Galactica’s own meteoric rise to prominence.

There was that one less-than-glowing review, years ago, and it had taken Patrick, Juju and four smashed plates before Fame had finally calmed down enough to admit that Bianca’s criticism was perhaps not unfair.

Not that Fame had admitted to it. She had made Bianca suffer through the silent treatment for a month until they had bumped into each other at a party, and Fame had realized how much she had missed her friend.

“Well, alright then! So...come on. Show me the goods...”

“Hmm, no,” Fame smirked. She so rarely had something Bianca wanted, something she could tease her with, torment her with, and the power was so very sweet. “I think I’ll let you wait and be surprised at the runway show.” Fame took a bite of her salmon, her bad mood suddenly gone.

“Excuse me! I’m the only one who supported your opinions on the old crap-”

“I know, and I thank you, my darling…” Fame put a hand on top of Bianca’s, gazing warmly into her eyes.

“So I deserve a peek!”

“I don’t think so,” Fame shook her head.

“Show me!”

“You’re so impatient,” Fame said, twirling her wine glass by the stem.

“Hmph.” Bianca crossed her arms. “I bet if I were some 25 year old blonde you could order around, you’d show me everything.”

Fame narrowed her eyes. She had told Bianca about Pearl in confidence, the number of people who knew the truth about the inner workings of Fame and Patrick’s marriage and specific proclivities very small. The number of people whom she’d tolerate teasing her about it? Even smaller. But then, she and Bianca had always had a very special bond.

Besides, if anyone could understand a taste for young blondes, it was Bianca.

“You’re one to talk,” Fame said.  

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Bianca said, lips pursed.

“Oh yeah? How’s Derrick?”

“Derrick is almost 30,” Bianca informed her.

“Ancient!” Fame’s eyes glittered with mischief.  

“And...I think that’s over anyway.”

Fame sighed, suddenly feeling a little bad about bringing her up.

“B...I really wish you’d get serious about someone. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down? You’re turning 40 in a few months.”

“Don’t remind me!” Bianca groaned, downing the last of her wine.

Fame smiled softly. Her friends were everything to her. All she wanted was for them to be happy, but Bianca had always been so difficult to pin down, more interested in the thrill of the chase than spending time building a loving, long-term relationship. Even though, if you asked Fame, she had so much love to give. But Fame couldn’t remember the last time she’d even used the word “girlfriend.”

After a pause, Bianca reached out to take Fame’s hand again. Fame looked up at her, prepared for a heartfelt comment of some kind. Instead—

“Can I see the new collection?”

Fame burst out laughing, shaking her head.

“No!”

“You’re an evil bitch, blondie.”

“Aww… I love you too, B.”

***

Courtney was nearly done with her salad when the door to their office opened, startling her. She shoved the container, fork and all, into the trash and regretted it immediately, but Violet had already made her excruciatingly paranoid about being caught eating by Fame.

“Courtney, what are you doing-” Violet groaned, but she was caught off when a gorgeous blonde in leather shorts and a loose gray tank top sailed in.

Courtney sheepishly fished her fork out of the trash can, trying to remember the name of this girl—she knew that she was on that directory list, and someone important. They had definitely danced drunkenly together at least once, but Courtney doubted that names were exchanged.

“Violet, my darling Violet, have I told you your beauty is akin to the sun,” she said grandly, arms open wide, a big smile on her face as she sauntered towards Violet’s desk.

“What do you want, Pearl?” Violet sighed.

Pearl! That’s who that was.

“Please don’t tell me you deleted all of your emails again. I’m not I.T., I can’t fix those things.”

“You wound me.”

Pearl smiled, everything about her reminding Courtney of a giant cat. As far as Courtney could remember, the woman, Pearl, was in charge of social media...or something. She looked very young, probably mid twenties if Courtney had to guess, and she couldn’t help but be impressed that she was the head of a department.  

“Can’t I visit the loveliest girl in the entire company with pure intentions?”

If anyone had said anything like that to Courtney, she wouldn’t have been able to look away, but Violet simply rolled her eyes and returned to her computer, which only made Pearl laugh. She took a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk, her eyes landing on Courtney for the first time since she arrived.

"And who do we have here?”

“I’m Court-”

“You must be the new girl I’ve been hearing about downstairs, Cassidy, Chelsea, Kelsey? You’re Adore Delano’s friend, correct?”

"Yes!” Courtney smiled, thankful someone finally recognized her.

“I never forget a good dancer.” Pearl smirked.

“My, umh, my name is Courtney, I’m Miss Fame’s new assistant.”

"Well, my name is Pearl Liaison,” Pearl pushed a bit of her hair behind her ear. “I’m head of PR & Social Media.”

“Oh, no, I know, Violet already told me.”

“Really?” Pearl smiled, her entire face lighting up. “Are you spreading rumours about me ViVi?”

"Not my name.” Violet looked up from her computer. “According to the schedule, you don’t have any meetings with Fame today? She’s not here.”

“I actually came for- Umh...” Pearl pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Do you have a minute?”

Pearl tilted her head towards Fame’s office, and Violet looked up at her crossly.

“One minute,” she said, following Pearl inside and telling Courtney, “We’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” Courtney said, a bit enthralled.

What kind of private business would they have that required them to go into Fame’s office? Courtney was pretty sure that Violet told her that she was never allowed to do that.

Violet followed behind Pearl, the blonde opening the door like she owned the entire company and thankfully for Courtney, she didn’t shut it fully behind her.

Courtney craned her neck, barely catching a glimpse of Pearl and Violet, who were standing just inside of Fame’s office. Courtney was just about to curse, when the sound of Pearl’s voice traveled clear as day through the crack in the door.

“So, I came up to see what your plans were for this Friday?”

“Really? Well, If it involves going out to one of your ‘underground’ clubs, count me out. I’m still trying to recover from last week.”

Courtney bit her lip. Violet sounded almost soft, her voice filled with a sweetness Courtney hadn’t heard from her since the bathroom when they’d met. Were Pearl and Violet dating? And why did that thought make her feel so strangely excited? Probably the secrecy of a forbidden office romance.

"Not a club. I have something better and you’ll love me forever.”

“Pearl-”

“I have two press invites to the Vogue Fashion Fund Awards Show-”

“What- Really, I- The fashion fund?”

“Mmmh. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”  Pearl was nonchalantly inspecting the ends of her long hair, trying to pretend that she didn’t care about Violet’s response. “Plus, you know, it’s an excuse to wear some of those gorgeous dresses I know you have in your closet.”

“I guess I do have a dress or two…” Violet bit her lip. “Know what? Yes. Yes, I’d like to go with you Pearl. Thank you for asking.”

"Awesome!” Pearl smiled brightly, reaching out a hand to touch Violet’s arm. Courtney’s heart beat a little bit faster. Was Pearl going to kiss her?

Oh god oh god oh god.

Courtney’s mouth hung open, her heart almost skipping a beat, but then, Pearl kissed Violet’s cheek. “I’ll send you the details later.”

Pearl threw open the door, and Courtney immediately turned back to her computer, pretending to type an email.

“Nice meeting you, Courtney!” Pearl called as she exited, and Courtney waved back to her as if she’d forgotten she was there.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Courtney turned to Violet, eyes big, thirsty for more details.

“Oh. My. God. You guys are dating?!” she squealed softly.

"Don't be ridiculous, she just invited me to an event as a work colleague."

"...but I thought you said that we don't go to events for Galactica?"

"Well. Work colleagues who occasionally socialize."

"You mean friends?" Courtney asked slowly.

"Must you label everything?" Violet quickly looked away, the blush creeping back into her cheeks as she busied herself at her desk. “Weren’t you supposed to be heading to HR?”

Courtney had been completely lost wondering about the exact nature of Violet’s relationship with Pearl, and what exactly was making Violet’s cheeks so red, when she remembered that she was in fact supposed to be meeting with HR in two minutes.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, quickly gathering up her things.

[ofxwordsxandxletters]

Yours, Always

Series: Wynonna Earp

Disclaimer: The plot and pairing are mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made. 

Pairing: Hollirey

Rating: PG overall. 

The fifth in a series based on letters between Doc Holliday and Bobo Del Rey depicting a shift in their relationship and some demons to exorcise.

Author’s note: Doc has to deal with the fallout of Robert’s letter in “With Deepest Regret…” and it’s not an easy place for him. But then nothing worth having seemed to come easy and for him; Robert was more than worth having

To be honest, I think that the next one will be the last in this particular series…We’ll see.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Yours, Always

His aim was never better was the remark after the second day he spent shooting things. He needed the focus, needed something to do with his hands that wasn’t wrapping them around a certain demon’s throat and shaking him until his brain rattled. He just isn’t sure it’s from anger at the past or the fact that the demon actually believed that he was just going to be a repeat of said past.

John Henry Holliday was beyond livid and all he wants is to drag back a dead man to scream at him a little bit before shooting him probably in the groin for good measure and then killing him again no matter what their previous partnership was like.

There was no goddamn reason for any of it.

So he vents in the familiar way he knows how, gunpowder and alcohol, until he can get control of himself again. Until he feels like he can focus on the issues with less anger and more neutrality. Until he stops wanting to curse a dead man more than he had been because he deserved it. And then have some words with himself about the absolute wrong way to handle situations because he was definitely culpable as well.

He had something more important to take care of, to protect. And that something was no doubt the wrong word or action away from pulling away for good. Of putting up walls too high and thick for anyone to scale.

How the hell did he manage to fix this when he was sure that the wrong move was going to get him banished to a hell he didn’t want to envision? He drags his hat off the temptation to throw it a strange novelty and brings a hand through his hair. He’d told Levi he’d handle it but damn had he not prepared himself for this.

How did anyone do that anyway?

All he knows is that he has to salvage it because he was finding out that to him, Robert was worth everything to him. Which meant that he was going to have to make him understand that fact above all else. He could forgive the well. That was not something he put on that man’s doorstep. Constance had been the one to push him in and she no doubt had gotten under Robert’s skin if he’d known he was there. She had to have. But he pushes that out of his mind because she wasn’t important enough to even think about at this point. Robert was. Robert who had been wronged so damn much and who lost so much more than he’d ever begin to imagine.

Robert who figured that at the end of it would lose Doc, too. Or never had him from the beginning.

He takes a slow, deep breath before slowly pulling his hat on. One more day. Then he was going to find the words to keep the most insufferable demon he’d ever met where he belonged; beside him.

*~*~*~*

Levi, to his credit, isn’t the least bit skittish when he approaches with an envelope. Bobo wants to say something spiteful but honestly, he was pretty sure he was one more show of temperament away from undoing years of having them respect him and instead see him as a bitter, malicious prick.

And for some reason, he doesn’t want that.

“Boss,” the male murmurs, extending his hand towards him.

Ringed fingers reach and take it and he hates that he waits until he’s gotten a hold of it to say, “I may be out of line but I honestly do not think you have much to fear from Doc Holliday.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” comes the sharp rebuke, “I fear absolutely no-fucking-one.”

“Right, of course not.” Amiable, he was being too amiable. Everyone else was avoiding him like they knew he was going to implode at some point and then there was this idiot…Bobo has no idea what he’d done to have to deal with him like this but it was frustrating. “I’ll leave you to it then, boss.”

“How magnanimous of you,” he retorts though the words lack their usual bite and warning as he turns for his trailer. Honestly, he figured that the other man would have taken the hint and not sent a correspondence. Hadn’t he given him enough reasons to not come back?

He studiously ignores the parts of him that were hopeful that maybe, just maybe…

But hope was for those not damned to a constant circle of hell and suffering wasn’t it? Or better men than Robert Svane could have ever hoped to be.

When he steps into his space, part of him wants to just toss the letter onto the writing desk and ignore it. Let it lay unread, the man’s response ignored. It’s what would be best, safest, the most intelligent way to handle this.

Pity that Robert Svane had never been any of those things in the correct amount and he clearly wasn’t starting now which is why he sinks onto the chair before opening the envelope wondering exactly what the male thought of his latest display. He’d asked for honesty and he’d gotten it. Too much honesty in one letter, Bobo is sure. Slowly, he unfolds the paper telling himself that he could get through this. He was fine losing Doc Holliday. Nothing to it because he was a demon.

It still takes him a few minutes to even look at the words, regardless.

My Robert,

I won’t lie and say that letter wasn’t painful because that would be an insult to us both. And clearly there is enough ill-will betwixt us to sully it further.

But I did ask for it, and I’m grateful that you answered. I’m grateful because now I have the knowledge of those before me who were unworthy to ever consider you a friend let alone anything close to a partner.

Even I wasn’t worthy then.

But I am now.

I want, desperately, to apologize for the less than appropriate actions of a drunkard too much of a fool to remember to be a gentleman, but I fear it rings hollow when I do not remember such an altercation. And somehow that is worse.

But that particular individual is not who climbed out of that well and I will do everything in my power to prove that to you if you will let me.

A chance, a second chance is what I’m askin’ of you; to prove my heart and how I feel. I’m not the kind of man who only calls upon another when there is something I can gain from it. Not in this.

You are a worthy partner, confidant, lover, and even friend. You’re insufferably bossy and have the worst taste imaginable in fur coats but all of that is the best parts of the man I want to see myself with at the end of all things. The man who can throw an entire trailer no doubt but writes with a quill with all the tenderness that takes. The same man who walks into a room like he belongs and yet seems to think he never will.

I want the sarcastic, sharp-tongued man who can also be soft and compassionate when the mood takes him. The man with the eyes that can go cloudy like a storm, icy like the snow, and molten on a whim as well. I want everything you are or ever will be. I want to be the one person who gets to see the good, the bad, and the ugly and at the end of the day is able to say, “He’s mine and I could not be more blessed”.

I have told you over and over, Robert Svane, that you are mine, that I am all in, and that there isn’t something that changes that. And I mean it.

So, I guess what I’m askin’ is…will you still have me?

                                                                                                                                                                Yours, Always and Absolutely,

                                                                                John Henry Holliday

Fingers dig into the wooden desktop as he puts the letter facedown on the table; something bubbling just below the surface hot and uncomfortable like the burn at the corners of his eyes. “J-John Henry,” comes the choked words, “Dammit all, Henry, why are you like this?!”

[signutai]

I didn’t actually end up sleeping last night so I guess it’s time for me to talk menswear, I say, opening up the Fallout wiki to the list of NV armors for reference. Takashi’s armor is his very own version of the classic NCR ranger vet armor everyone knows so well, more closely resembling the unique riot gears found in Lonesome Road than anything else, though clearly distinct from them. The duster is dyed a forest green, only barely desaturated, and reaches down to about just above his ankles for dramatic flair, with a high collar (enough to completely cover the back of his neck) and consisting of three layers: the original outer leather layer, along with a secondary layer of leather sewn into the inside and a layer of sturdy protective mesh sandwiched in between. It’s heavy and much more stiff than the similar armors, and when he’s in a tight spot he’ll usually just toss it aside for freer movement. No pockets on the outside; they’re all on the inside of the coat instead and he keeps his secrets there. There’s some spots of minor damage here and there, along with a few places where he’s sewn new leather over holes, and the ends of the coat itself are starting to come apart thanks to the repeated wear and tear associated with traveling the wastes, but overall he tries to avoid damaging it and makes sure to oil the leather when he can find any leather treatment materials--it overall lacks that dirty, dusty, and aged look the other riot gears tend to have. The pauldrons are similar in size to the elite riot gear’s, though more rounded like the advanced version. Have some visible damage (some denting, missing paint, ect.) due to the fact that he mainly uses them to break down doors. They’re attached directly to the duster, just because it’s one less step to remember when he’s dressing himself. The throat guard is larger and has “Lefty” painted on it in white rather than a number. The breastplate is almost identical to that of the Remnants power armor, except more polished and the metal less dark, stripped of any electronic components and outfitted with clasps on the sides and shoulders for easier removal. Has some minor dings, dents, and scrapes, but he’s recently had to resize it and he banged and buffed out the worst of the old damage in the process. Under all of that he wears a simple dark leather shirt (think barebones reinforced leather armor that still has both sleeves). Wears his Pip-Boy on his right arm, along with an additional layer of padding between it and the sleeve to help alleviate pressure on an injury there. Has a nondescript, unpainted metal guard on his left forearm that is heavily marked with scrapes, cuts, and dents from deflecting/countering melee weapons. And under that is a heavy cloth shirt, to which is attached a backpack-like metal device that links to a cooling system built in the shirt. There are holes cut into the leather armor, breastplate, and duster to accommodate it (he puts it on first and then fits everything else over it), and a small solar panel on the top that provides it with power. It does a fantastic job of keeping him from overheating despite all the layers, at the cost of needing to scavenge for or buy coolant to keep it going (not always an easy task and part of the reason why vertibird wrecks can be a veritable goldmine for him; not many folks know how to properly salvage a ‘bird). Produces a constant, quiet hum when running. The shirt has a zipper to make it less of a pain to wrestle with and zips up all the way under his chin. Fingerless gloves. He tried full gloves once and got nervous about not being able to actually touch anything. Simple, loose-fitting canvas pants (currently) with big pockets for more secret storage (namely, a pencil and his “quest book” as he so fondly calls it). He’s found thigh armor to be just a little too restricting on top of everything else, so the pants tend to see more damage, and get replaced and patchworked more often than any other part of the outfit. Wears knee guards similar to the elite riot gear, and more metal plating over the front of his steel-toed boots. The boots, like the duster, are well-oiled, though a lot more visibly worn. He does a lot of walking. The helmet hasn’t seen a lot of modification because he doesn’t really like wearing it--the actual helmet part of it is identical in construction to the elite riot gear’s, though darker, and the mask portion more resembles the advanced gear’s, save for the red lenses are swapped with a bright green (”The world looks much more friendly this way,” he says.). Under the duster and crossing his chest from the right shoulder are one bandoleer stocked with his very special homemade hand-load .50 MG rounds and another of small pouches (ideal for storing a few handfuls of caps or things like lockpicks that are good to have close at hand). Other ammunition is stored either in the inner breast pocket of the duster or a satchel on his belt. Both bandoleers attach directly to the shoulder and side of the breastplate because the cooling system prevents anything from being looped comfortably around the back. Would absolutely wear a big obnoxious belt buckle if he could find one, though at this point he’d struggle to find room. Keeps his hunting revolver in a holster on his left hip, as well as his wakizashi. Three or four other pouches and bags on the belt hold things like snacks, ammo, more caps, and his cache of herbs, spices, and teas. Carries two canteens on the same damn belt, which is currently crying for mercy, can you hear it? Other storage consists of a courier-style satchel he usually wears with the strap over his left shoulder--that contains the important things, like whatever he’s courier-ing, his medical supplies, a stock of non-snack foods, the rest of his caps, extra water, a length of dyed leather in case of duster damage, his other weapons, books, and various repair kits--and a duffel bag he’ll just sling over his shoulder that he uses for loot and/or anything he hasn’t currently sorted into its proper place in his exhausting storage system. (Yes, he does have the Pack Rat perk, why do you ask.) Basically, his entire set-up is built for enduring long road trips through extremely harsh terrain and for being able to withstand a fair amount of damage--not as much as if he were in full metal armor, but it’s nothing to sneeze at. It is, again, much heavier than the other riot gears, and the fact that he can still keep much of his speed and agility while wearing it is a virtue of his own unique constitution rather than any deliberate effort to make the armor manageable for anyone who isn’t him. His fingers and maybe a small sliver of throat, if he tilts his head right, are the only skin he shows to most people. That is by design. Just about everything that would require him showing his face (eating, bathing, ect.) is done in total privacy except for the two or three people he trusts enough for that. In this way, he’s protected from the outside world in more than one sense. Exact colors I’m still trying to figure out a way to work on, but I’m imagining a bold and quite distinct mix of fairly saturated mid-tone and darker greens, black/dark greys, and silver. He stands out in a crowd and cuts a pretty impressive--if very square--figure. Takashi Takeda is nothing if not a vain motherfucker at his core, and he’s not going to go around looking like he just spent a month swimming in a pool of wasteland dust, regardless of how impractical it is for him to try and keep himself and his armor clean of the stuff. Though he’s since done extensive modifications to suit his particular lifestyle and look, the armor was originally a gift. He can’t remember who from.

[leovevo]

featuring: @cindyeggers​​  mentions of: @rhcdesx​​, @romanwalsh​​, @rileyyxkim​​, @marcodiangelo​​, @sureivan​

the video starts with leo arranging the camera, before flopping on the couch. leo: "konnichiwassup, guys! welcome back to my channel! today, we'll be doing a q&a with a very special guest." he waggles his eyebrows at the camera before gesturing for cindy to seat on the spot next to him, "welcome, welcome!"

cindy: literally jumps onto the couch, throwing up double peace signs, "sup y'all! i'm arizona blues of... can i say it on your channel? i don't wanna get you demonetized." she makes a jerk-off motion instead, "this is the only clue you're gonna get."

leo: nodding, leo turned to the camera with a knowing look, "she is, like me, a content creator, and if you've been on other streaming websites besides youtube, then you definitely know her. so, before we get into the main course..." he grabs the makeup kit from the coffee table in front of them, "to make this q&a a wee more interesting, i'll be putting makeup on ari and make her look even prettier while we answer your questions!"

cindy: "hell yeah bro fuck me up," she says excitedly, turning towards leo as a good little canvas. "so what kind of look are we going for today?"

leo: "something glamorous, obviously. maybe a glittery, pink look?" he rummaged through the bag, face instantly scrunching up. "the fuck is this? where do i start?"

cindy: "you're asking the wrong person, broseph. good luck," she says as she grabs a random product and tries to figure out what it's supposed to do. at least it's shiny. "anyways, while leo mua here figures this shit out, should we just get into the first question - what's the number one thing you want to do at the resort?"

leo: "i'm sure we have to start with foundation. but your skin's clear enough, and i don't want to choose the wrong shade." he pulls out a brow pencil. "okay, we can start with your eyebrows." he scooted closer to cindy, uncapping the pencil and beginning to... well, thicken cindy's brows (rather roughly). "eat. eat loads. and just bask in the sunlight 'cause i don't get much of that anymore. how about you?"

cindy: “so what you’re saying is that my brows suck,” she teases, but she sits still and lets him do his thing. “i was gonna say troll people but honestly, i’m gonna tag along with you on that. food is the answer.”

leo: once he was finished, he pulls away to examine his work. alright, they looked fine. just... a little thicker than usual. "like, we're staying in bougie-ass houses, and we get to do whatever we want. it's the life." he tosses the brow pencil back in the bag, before pulling out a random palette and some brushes. "next question! do you see a future with anyone on the sloth?"

cindy: "it's the shit," she concurs, oblivious to her new thicc brows. "uh, this sounds like it's asking me if i want to like, get married and have babies with someone. which, nah i'm good. but i'm gonna take my bromance with ivan to the grave. and i'm also gonna harass kieran forever."

leo: "the question is too ambiguous, so i'm going to worm my way around it. i'd really like to grow old with roman, kieran, and riley." he silently motions for cindy to close her eyes, before experimentally skimming a hot pink shade across her lids. it was pigmented as fuck. leo grits his teeth. "d...don't know what i'd do without them."

cindy: "god you're such a coward," she tells him, her eyes closed while he undoubtedly stains her poor eyelids for life. still blissfully unaware. "that's cute though, i can respect that... why do you sound all weird though? are you gonna cry?" she blindly reaches out and starts touching his face to check.

leo: he gingerly attempts to tone down the colour with his thumb, only smudging it and making it worse. "yea, no, there was just, uh, fallout from the palette." inwardly panicking, leo dabs on a darker shade (red) to her eyelids. oh no. ohhhh no. she looked like a cirque du soleil cast member... only with... shitty makeup. "third!" deciding not to ruin the look any further, he sets the palette down, reaching for the eyeliner. maybe he can salvage it with a classic wing. "do you believe in forgiveness?"

cindy: "what kinda philosophy shit is this," she says with a confused huff, no longer able to ignore leo's frantic smudging, "what's going on? what are you doing to my face?"

leo: "you're not allowed to look until i'm finished!" he retorted, "i'll do your eyeliner now. come on. answer the question."

cindy: "that's like the least comforting thing i've ever heard," she replies, but she lets it go because... if nothing else, it's probably good for the views, "i guess i do believe in forgiveness? like, if we're being real i've needed it sometimes so, yeah? but i also think it's fair to just snip snip, cut people out of your life so. depends. i don't fucking know, leo."

leo: this was a difficult question, but he was so focused on trying to draw a good wing that he couldn't sugarcoat his answer. despite so, his hands were trembling. he hopes cindy doesn't snip snip, cut him out of her life for fucking her face up. "i think it's important." he whispered, eyes narrowing in concentration. "i just suck at forgiving."

cindy: "i get you," she nods in agreement, realizing too late what she's done. despite all of leo's efforts, her movement sends the eyeliner out of its path and up towards her forehead, "shit i'm sorry.”

leo: at the disruption, he lets out a scream, "NOOOOOOOO!" was it ideal to throw a tantrum in front of the camera? not exactly. but he had been doing SO well! "wwwwhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

cindy: "I'M SORRY," she yells, grabbing a concealer from the kit, "can't you just like... paint this over it? it's fine, look..." without grabbing a mirror (because the rules forbid it) and with absolutely no idea what she's doing, she starts applying concealer in arbitrary areas.

leo: "no! NO!" leo shrieked, taking the concealer away because now she was getting concealer in her eyebrows, which he had worked so hard on! "no, no. sit there and relax," he insisted, "it's fine. we're fine. you're fine. let's move on." all leo had to do was to slap some lipstick on cindy's face and finish the job before it could get any messier. he grabs a random shade—all of them looked similar and started to apply it on cindy's lips. "who is the one person you would kick out from the sloth? wait, we already answered this question in your video, which i am not allowed to link down below because... well, of reasons..."

cindy: tries to answer but because leo is putting lipstick on her, it's more of a series of sounds than words. when he finishes, she purses her lips, "i think we did but... fuck it, i'd also kick out that victoria girl just to see what she'd do about it."

leo: "she'd kill you, probably. i'd still kick marco out. we're almost done with the makeup," he laughs nervously. the lipstick looked clean enough, though. thank god. "i'm gonna finish it off with some o' these," he raised up a blusher, "and, uh, i'll..." he trailed off, smearing it slowly across her cheeks. cindy looked like a straight-up clown. "last question: you are about to get into a fight, what song comes on as your soundtrack?"

cindy: "i've never felt more beautiful," she says, but only because she's the only person who has no idea what he's done to her face. "shit this is the easiest one. it's clearly gotta be that one that goes like..." she starts singing horribly off-key, "i don't give a damn about my reputation. the one from the tournament scene in shrek 1."

leo: "okay, okay, that's valid," leo laughed out, putting all of the makeup back in the kit and stowing it away. "mine would be the walmart fight song." he could feel his palms getting sweaty, "okay. uh." he slid the mirror towards cindy. "feel free to... take a peek at your look of the day."

cindy: "also a valid choice," cindy agrees as she grabs the mirror and comes face to face with her new clown self, "how did you even achieve this look? i look like shit leo." she looks at leo, then at the camera with a mix of amusement and true horror. "by the way," she adds to the camera, "we didn't tell you guys but.... i said i'd wear this for the rest of the day."

leo: relieved that cindy took her spankin' new look rather well, he visibly relaxed. "you're still smokin' hot, don't worry," he pinched her cheek, accidentally getting some blush on his fingers. "shit. well!" he looks at the camera, giving a thumbs up. "aaaaand that wraps up our q&a, thank you for humouring me—us, miss ari! anything else to add before we head off to the mall?"

cindy: "uhh, like and subscribe or whatever," she mumbles as she grabs the eyeliner and meticulously sketches out a penis on leo's cheek, "50,000 likes and leo will eat a live octopus." leo: "arigathanks for watching, everyone," he said, staying still for cindy. "check out mtv's sloth in paradise—as well as my channel—for more content!" cindy: "yeah check us out or else," she throws another round of peace signs and gets off the couch, "later dickface."

[shirtlesssammy]

5x22: Swan Song

In light of recent news, we thought we’d finally tackle what might have been the end (until someone went and made a demon deal, giving us 10 more years of our beloved show!) It’s weird watching this and seeing what a bummer this all would have been if it had ended like this. Sure, it was epic, but I guess I’m a sucker for a happy ending when it’s about characters I’ve come to love more than my own family. I’m also going to point to this Twitter thread about good and bad show endings. Swan Song wouldn’t have been bad had we only had TFW for five years, but we’ve watched them grow over 15 years now, and I want to see them get some peace. (Thanks to all the meta writers for throwing out the much needed hope!)

The Road So Far:

Carry on my wayward son...

Now:

We open with Chuck Shurley narrating the origin story of the most important object in pretty much the entire universe. And I’m literally two minutes into rewatching this episode and already crying. He’s tells us about it’s original owner, Sal Moriarty. (Oh, Eric Kripke, of course it was.)

And how, after he died, it ended up in the hands of John Winchester, after some persuasion by his time traveling son.

Fade to Sam and Dean in Bobby’s salvage yard, drinking beer from the little green cooler. Dean tells Sam that he’s “in” on having Sam say yes to the devil.

Dean acknowledges that Sam can make his own choices. “Watching out for you? That’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s kinda who I am.” Seeing this image Dean has of himself shift to NOT be this is really great. Dean asks if this is really what Sam wants. Sam is more resigned than enthusiastic to the plan, obv.

Cut to Team Free Will collecting demon blood like they’re stocking up for the apocalypse (err..). Dean confers with Bobby about Lucifer’s location and they determine it is Detroit.

Once on the road, Dean can’t help but notice what a cute, slumbering angel he has in the backseat. Sam logically points out that angels don’t sleep. They talk about their plan, the odds of it working, and the reality that Sam won’t be coming back from the cage. Sam makes Dean promise that he won’t try and get him back. Dean balks at the idea. Sam makes him promise that he’ll find Lisa and live “some normal, apple pie life.”

Once in Detroit, the group finds many demons out and about. Sam and Bobby have a moment. Then Sam asks Cas to “take care of these guys” for him. Cas tells Sam that it isn’t possible. Sam asks him to humor him. Cas catches on just a little too late that he’s supposed to lie. Oh Cas, you beautiful, literal goob.

Sam then gets to the business of downing four gallons of demon blood. With that done, Sam and Dean turn themselves in to the demons, who bring them to Lucifer.

Chuck continues his monologue on the Impala. He mentions the unimportant features, and then mentions the important features: Sam’s green army man, Dean’s legos, Sam and Dean’s initials. The devil doesn’t know or care about their car.

The devil wants to know what Sam and Dean are up to.

Sam says he’s ready to say “yes.” The devil reveals that he knows they have the rings that will reopen the Cage. Fuuuuuck. Sam tries bluffing, but the jig is up. Dean’s look of anguish is devastating. Lucifer likes his odds on the battle that will happen in Sam’s head. He agrees. Before Dean can do anything more than say “No”, Sam says “Yes.”

A bright light flashes and Dean finds Sam knocked out on the floor. He throws the rings on the wall and gets to opening the door to Hell. Sammy awakens and Dean helps him towards the portal. Only, PSYCH! It’s actually Lucifer. Sam didn’t stand a chance against him. He closes the portal and takes the rings.  

Once away from Dean, Lucifer has a moment with Sam, where Sam makes it very clear that he’s not done fighting.

Lucifer appeals to Sam’s worst feelings about himself, but says he wants Sam to be happy. Sam doesn’t want anything from Lucifer. Lucifer then points out the group of demons behind him. They’re all people Sam knew in his life --they were all watching Sam for Azazel.

Dean, Bobby, and Cas are watching the fallout to Sam saying yes.

Shallow Sidenote:

(Those curls!)

Cas suggests they “imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.” GRIM, DUDE --but he ain’t wrong. Cas doesn’t think there’s any way they can stop Lucifer and Michael meeting. Dean is not giving up (and he’s desperate guys -his insult at Cas was way harsh). Bobby’s even resigned to the reality of the situation.

We cut back to the room full of demons, but they’re all dead this time. Lucifer smugly looks at Sam in the mirror. “We having fun yet?” Ugh, Lucifer, you’re the worst.

Chuck’s narration cuts in like a road narrative, all misty colored and gentle. “They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove one thousand miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word.” This beautiful interlude dissipates with a phone call and Chuck picks up, expecting Mistress Magda. (Eyebrow waggle.) LOL, nope! It’s Dean.

“You got a real virgin / hooker thing going on, don’t you?” Dean observes. Excuse me while I laugh forever over this line, with the confirmed Chuck-is-God context. Dean wants to know where the fight will happen. It’ll be at Stull Cemetery at high noon, just outside of Lawrence. Chuck doesn’t have any more useful information than that…but it’s a place to start.

Bobby and Cas try to prevent Dean from heading to Lawrence to intervene in the upcoming archangel showdown but their arguments are weak sauce compared to Dean’s need to save Sam. He heads off alone to Stull.

The cemetery is wispy with mist and bedraggled with age. Michael (wearing Adam) flaps in to greet Lucifer. (Side note: Saying that Michael is “wearing Adam” sounds like Adam is a fashion designer. In this epic showdown, Michael has been dressed by the FABULOUS Adam!) 

Both brothers seem regretful, but ultimately resolved. Lucifer questions why they’re fighting if neither of them wants to do it. Michael trots out the old “duty” argument. Lucifer offers an alternative: “We’re going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.” Hey, guys. It’s a really good point. It’s also an intentional mirror of Dean, Sam, and John that I refuse to stop getting emotional about.

Michael’s tempted for a moment. Damn serpent!! “I’m a good son,” Michael decides. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself.” This is also an excellent fucking point, man. The rumble’s still on.

Speaking of rumbling, Dean approaches in Baby with Def Leppard cranked up loud. FUCK YEAH. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” To quote Tess McGreer’s Twitter feed: MY SON!

Michael’s not into the whole threesome battle, and heads threateningly towards Dean when the camera cuts suddenly to Castiel and Bobby who have just flapped in. “Hey, assbutt!” Castiel shouts before lobbing a holy oil molotov cocktail at Michael. Bless.

Michael poofs away. “You got your five minutes,” Cas says to Dean just before Lucifer explodes him. NOOOOOOO

Lucifer’s pretty crabby by this point, so when Dean tries to verbally reach Sam again, he hurls Dean into Baby. Bobby shoots futilely at Lucifer before Lucifer snaps his neck. NOOOOOOO

“Sammy, are you in there?” Dean asks desperately. PROTECT.

“He’s gonna feel the snap of your bones,” Lucifer promises Dean. He’s gonna kill Dean slow. I’d chortle over the classic villain “kill you slow” trope except that Lucifer is beating Dean bloody and it’s really, really not funny.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” a very battered Dean tells Sam, leaving me to stare into space thinking about how he must have said this on quiet nights, comforting young Sam over nightmares or monster-under-the-bed scares.

Lucifer draws his fist back to deliver a killing blow as Dean slumps in his hold. His eye catches on a little army man stuck in the ashtray and we get a montage of Dean and Sam moments set to the soundtrack of howling wind. Sam’s fist uncurls.

And that’s it. Sam takes control. “I’ve got him,” Sam tells Dean. He hauls the rings out of his pocket and tosses them to the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. Dean sprawls on the ground, leaning against the car, bloodied and broken. Sam panics at the threshold to the cage when Michael!Adam appears. 

Sam takes one more look at Dean before he opens his arms wide, ready to plunge into the cage. As Michael tries to haul him back, Sam pulls him in as well.

With a blast, the cage closes and Dean is left alone in the quiet, wind-swept cemetery.

He looks up a while later to find Castiel standing behind him, whole and unblemished. “You’re alive?” Dean asks.

“I’m better than that,” Cas says and…okay. He heals Dean with a touch, then brings Bobby back to life. Good job, Cas bby!

“Endings are hard,” Chuck says, and the scene switches to his office once again. “Endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.”

We switch back to Dean and Cas in the Impala. Cas is headed back to Heaven to try to bring order upstairs. He’s ready to continue his heavenly mission, but Dean’s pissed off. “Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole.”

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?”

Cas flaps out. “You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Always, Dean. Always.

Dean says a temporary farewell to Bobby, then shows up at Lisa’s house, CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED. What a non-booty booty call. Lisa reads the room and pulls him in for a comforting hug. (Stay tuned for my 8,000 word essay on why Lisa is the best.) 

“Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt endings are hard. But then again nothing ever really ends, does it?” Chuck vanishes, which is apparently his equivalent of dropping the mic.

Then, the show proceeds to not end, in the best way. Dean is still lost at Lisa’s, putting on a “normal” front. And outside, Sam appears under a flickering street light. To be continued…for ten more seasons. <3

Quoting is Hard:

This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers.

Ain’t he a little angel?

I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.

MFEO. Literally.

I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.

Cas, are you God?

Every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[subasekabang]

the things that make you, break you

Rating: T Word Count: 8,174 Pairings/Characters: Rhyme centric; Beat, Neku, Shiki, Joshua, and Hanekoma all are there in varying amounts. Warnings: Canon typical violence, death, and trauma. Summary: And how do you fill in the gaps for things you have forgotten? How do you start anew?

( Sometimes, God just happens to be listening to your pleas, unluckily enough )

Partners: Harmonika, Scivious

Author’s Note: Apologies for a very incomplete fic here, life got in the way, but I tried! I had a lot of fun participating nonetheless, and I’m very happy for the opportunity to write this fic. I’ll have a cleaner version up on ao3 after the bang ( and hopefully finished soon afterwards )!

Darkness. Light. Warmth. Brisk. Rhyme has some sense of awareness in the state of limbo she is in, somewhere between life and death.

And then she is alive again, they all are. It is perhaps not so much a miracle, because hadn’t they all hoped— dreamed, as one might say— that they would survive the Reapers’ Game? Should they have even expected to make it back?

And yet, they are here. She is back, and she is not. She is here, and except—

Except, except— there is something missing. There is something wrong.

She does not feel alive, not truly. At what cost is she still here, she wonders; at what cost is she allowed to be alive.

( You feel like you have forgotten what being alive feels like )

She does not ask, for she knows no one would be able to give her an answer.

–

She wonders if any of them had actually thought about what they’d do in the aftermath.

After all, for seven days, all they needed to know how to do is survive.

( And then seven days again, and again— )

They have survived, so now they must live through the fallout; in ways, it is more and less severe than they expect it to be.

At home, things are mostly the same: Beat does not see eye to eye with their parents, and even if they do not care about him, they do care about her, so they argue— she is present, more often than not, and his eyes will dart over to her, and if things escalate, well— at the very least, he does not take to storming out of the house to resolve the conflict.

It goes unsaid, but Rhyme has always been a perceptive child, and that is no less true when it comes to her brother; she notices the barely present flinch when Beat sees her watching, the flash of pain that flickers in his expression. The smell of asphalt, the sound of tires—

The way her body goes limp and hits the pavement.

And of course, she cannot blame him for holding onto that guilt still, fresh in their minds; he has had to live with the consequences of that more vividly than she has had to. So in turn, she cannot take complete fault with him for wanting to avoid repeating the past, despite his… issues with their parents.

She does wish he could find a reason to want to try to change things, for his own sake, and not for her; find a reason for things that don’t revolve around her, but—

One step at a time.

Sometimes though, sometimes she ends up wondering why it is that thinking about his reasons leaves her chest feeling so hollow. Even as the younger sibling, you have always bearded the burden of responsibility, heavy on your shoulders; so this too, this new emptiness is buried under all that weight. She smiles at him encouragingly when he asks about it and doesn’t say a thing otherwise.

–

That is probably where the problem lies, really.

None of them really want to talk about the issues that plague them. There is the unspoken knowledge that no one escaped unscathed— physically, they are fine, but they all have some ghosts that haunts them. A choice that was or wasn’t made.

A phantom feeling that lingers in their bones.

She shouldn’t be the one to play psychiatrist here, she cannot judge them on what they should or shouldn’t do, is or isn’t healthy. Sometimes they need a little bit of a push, though, and Rhyme realizes that part of the problem is with her; she does not miss the way Beat’s gaze lingers on her and the way Shiki watches her while she changes the subject. Specifically, that none of them want to speak about it around her—and who is to blame them for  feeling that way? Who wants to speak about what they saw around a child who seems to have gotten away without an issue? Who wants to talk about their issues with someone who did not experience the same thing?

She prods where she can and leaves herself out of the picture when she does, and if that means they are able to work on healing in her absence, then she cannot ask for anything more.

She smiles and bears the weight on her shoulders in silence, even as the gaps of what she is missing spreads ever further.

–

Her memories are a mess.

There are parts of the game that she can remember vividly, clear as day; that, if she were to be asked, she could recount in great detail. And then there are parts that she cannot recall so well, just bits and pieces and flashes of things that might have happened— that Rhyme cannot find it in herself to ask about because she does not want to disrupt the status quo, and perhaps it is better off if they are left thinking that she does not quite remember everything.

No, that is perhaps not all it is; perhaps it is because she is uncertain how Beat would react if she was to bridge this gap, but she does not want to give him an extra thing to worry over. That is not the way things are meant to be between them; little sister looks out for elder brother, so she will be selfishly selfless and keep these things to herself.

At what point, then, does her warm smile become less genuine and more of a forced act? At what point does her picture of innocence become a false image?

( You cannot pinpoint the moment where it began to reflect the emptiness eating you up on the inside )

–

Surprisingly, or perhaps completely unsurprisingly, he is the one to bring up that one week.

It is just the two of them, of course, as it is many a day; brother and sister are not often far apart. She knows these days, it is with a tinge of protectiveness, trying to make up for what he didn’t before, and—

“Your ice cream is meltin’, yo.” Train of thought broken, her gaze turns down to her hand— yikes, he really wasn’t kidding, huh. She munches on the cone so she can enjoy what she has while it lasts, salvage the remains of this sad puddle of cream and pulls a napkin from her pocket to clean up. Both of them are oddly quiet today, she realizes; and while it might not be too unusual for her, it certainly is for Beat, and watches her brother curiously.

“Rhymes?” There it is. She hums in acknowledgement, giving him her full attention ( which isn’t to say she usually gives him anything less than that, but given how easily distracted she’s been today, she makes sure she gives him nothing less than that ). “I’m… real sorry sis.”

That’s not particularly new to hear; there had been a lot of apologies when they’d first gotten back, for that sentiment to have lingered shouldn’t be surprising. Still, her brows raise a little, expression. “That’s, uh… I don’t know what you’re apologizing for?”

“I wanted to get it all back for ya— all your dreams ‘nd stuffs. I feel like I letcha down big time.” His head hangs a little and she frowns, opens her mouth to begin to speak, but he continues before she gets a chance to say anything. “But I’m gonna help you, I swear. I dunno how, but we’ll work on it togetha.”

And see, it’s not like she had not realized it before, and even if Beat has not noticed, it wasn’t like she has not been making her own efforts to fill in the gaps; but it is easier said than done, and there is something equal parts helpful and hurtful hearing him put it into words, knowing that even he’s realized there’s an issue. And maybe it’s because she has tried tackling all this on her own, Rhyme would like to stay hopeful, so she smiles and agrees with him, even if it doesn’t change a thing. “Sure, practice makes perfect, right?”

It doesn’t. It doesn’t, and everything stays the same. The empty feeling lingers, and she wonders how far that feeling can spread before the mirror will shatter.

And she remembers, she remembers—

–

Is it okay to just watch?

She has never been the most persistent, showed the most resistance— she might not just yield to things mindlessly, not quite that submissive, but it has never really hurt her to be complacent.

Rhyme remembers a conversation during the game, about dreams; her sentiments then match her ones now, that she will keep moving forward and surely, she will find something to fill the emptiness. Holds onto that distant hope that things will work themselves out.

She watches Beat and wonders if it is okay to do just that, watch as the distance between them grows until she can barely see him.

( One day, Rhyme thinks, no matter how much she tries, no matter how far she runs—she won’t be able to close that distance. That is life, and that is natural.

The thought still hurts to think about ).

–

“Rhyme,” A low murmur of her name catches her off guard— her head jerks up a little and she catches herself, a smile tugging at her lips as she sees the other. She does not even get the chance to greet Neku however, as he cuts her off with a gesture for her to follow him. Rhyme does so, but cannot help but feel like a child about to be scolded, the way he leads her away— enough that they have a little privacy, but still close enough so they are not out of seeing distance of the others. She’s not certain what he wants to talk about, and he does not seem to know where to start; she cannot prompt him in any way, instead settles for letting him speak when he’s ready and waits patiently.

“…How have you been?” He speaks after a moment, and her eyes crinkle a little at the edges at how awkwardly he speaks; even after all this time, Neku still struggles a bit with communicating. She is not close with him like he is with the others, so it is hard to read him completely— but they are not strangers and she can read him well enough, for the most part, to understand him.

“Fine. I’ve finally finished up the summer homework.” She fiddles with the end of her sleeves absentmindedly, wondering if there was anything in particular he was trying to get out of her, racking her mind to think if there was anything else worth mentioning. “Has Beat mentioned things have been getting better at home? It’s not much, but… I think he’s a little scared of getting his hopes up, you know? It’s never going to be a perfect situation, but it’s bearable.”

“He is?” Neku seems surprised by what she has to say, brows furrowing. “No, that wasn’t what I— listen. You’re usually the… capable one, compared to Beat so… I’m not sure if his worrying is more or less than what should be warranted, but you are worrying him. I think Shiki’s worried about you too.”

She’s not sure how to feel about his assessment of her; and she really isn’t surprised to hear this, she would have to be pretty oblivious to be unaware that there wasn’t worries, even if this is the first she’s hearing about it. Especially on Beat’s part, because he does worry, of course, and that’s part of why she loves her brother as much as she does, and it wouldn’t be like him to not worry, but— “And you too?” She can fill in some of the gaps of what he is trying to say, though she feels like she’s still missing part of the bigger picture here.

“I just—” A flash of guilt briefly his face. “It’s weird to see them mope. You didn’t— you don’t deserve to have to deal with it, but try to talk to him, if you can?”

“Yeah.” She speaks softly, back to that feeling of a child being chided, almost a bit shamefaced. “Yeah, I’ll try. I didn’t mean to… worry everyone.”

“Good.” He speaks, but his attention isn’t entirely on her, fiddling with his phone. A nervous tick he’s picked up from after the game, she’s almost certain. “And if you can’t talk to him, just find some way of getting it all out…? He might be upset if you’re keeping something from him, but I think he’d prioritize you feeling better over that.”

He might be a little more than upset, Rhyme corrects him silently. Beat is protective, not malicious— he would probably be upset, but not purposefully doing so to harm her. Regardless, she murmurs her assent, chewing on her lips for a moment before she speaks. “Hey, Neku, do you…” A long pause follows her words, it is not so much that she does not want to seem vulnerable, she is fine with that.

( No, child; perhaps it is that you have been so strong for so long that you no longer know how to be weak ).

“…Do you have a dream?”

“Do I?” Neku looks somewhere between startled and awkward now that the question has been turned to him, brows furrowed. “Sure. Maybe if you had asked me before…” Pause, a waving hand gesture “—Everything happened, I might’ve said no, maybe would have told you something vaguely related to art, but… I think it was hard to come out of that without some aspiration. Live for the future, you know?”

“Mm, I..” Rhyme wants to speak— say something, anything, the words on the tip of her tongue, but the words are so hard to form that they stick and are hard to be forced out.

I’m not sure if I remember what it’s like. I don’t know if I can anymore.

“Rhymes, Phones!” Beat’s voice cuts in, loud and clear; causes both of their heads to snap up and puts a firm end to any further conversation. “C’mon! Shiki says we’re gonna be late if you two keeps slakin’ behind like this.”

“Coming!” She shouts back, to placate him; spares Neku a brief glance. “We should probably listen, before Beat decides he needs to come over here and drag us along instead.”

“Wait, Rhyme—” He speaks when she turns away, and she turns back to give him a serene smile.

“Don’t worry.” Although, as an afterthought, she thinks those words might only spark more concern, so she hurries to finish her sentence. “Everything always works out fine.”

She’s not entirely sure if either one of them completely believe that.

But she’d like to, and for now that’s good enough.

–

Come to WildKat.

Wednesday. Noon.

Don’t be late.

–

It reads kind of like a mission mail, unknown sender and all.

There is no threat of erasure, but she feels like there might be some underlying threat in there, somewhere. Like an imprint.

Still, she has no reason to not go— well, no, that’s not true. Rhyme has several reasons not to go, if she’s being honest, given the rather cryptic manner of the message; but she only remembers hearing ( mostly ) positive things in relation to WildKat and its owner, even if she lacks much to place her own judgement. She figures she should be safe in going along with it, she trusts her own gut instincts.

She considers asking for a second opinion, but then she might end up with someone else tagging along, and while she had not been told either way, she has a feeling she is meant to attend this… meeting ( if you could call it that ) alone. And so she does.

Though, at the last minute, she does reconsider it, because she really doesn’t care for lying to Beat. But in the end, she trusts that everything will be all right and tells him that she’s running out for an errand, that she’ll see him later.

He trusts her, of course— because she can do no wrong in anyone’s mind— and though she can tell he would like to tag along, he lets her go off on her own with a brief ruffle of her hair.

She feels a little worse about it all after that, but they both have their fair share of secrets in the end

And technically speaking, she is not lying, she really does have some errands she needs to take care of, just they are few and short enough that she can take care of them beforehand, and can at least make sure she won’t head home empty handed.

The shop is empty, notably, she cannot find a sign that indicates whether it is open or not; but since a quick test shows that the door is open, she enters, hesitantly— a scrap of paper lies with a cup at the counter, and she scoops up both objects in her hands for further inspection.

Be back soon. In the meanwhile, why don’t you relax? Enjoy the moment with a nice drink. It should be to your liking.

She sniffs at the cup curiously, and, well— unsurprisingly, it smells good, so she goes ahead and takes a seat at a table and sips at the cup. Cocoa, still surprisingly warm, a hint of cream and cinnamon: it is almost exactly the way she prefers it, and as odd as that is, it is somewhat comforting for her, sips on the mug in silence while she waits.

After a while, the silence starts to get to her, and in need of a good distraction, Rhyme pulls out her phone and begins to fiddle with it. It is not so much the silence, but the fact that she is alone in a somewhat unfamiliar setting, along with several other factors that leave her perhaps a little unsettled; her fingers hover over her contacts, tentatively, considering if she should make a call ( and to who, at that ).

And then, as quick as that, things change. It is akin to feeling in the air, though she cannot spot anything different when her head turns— no, but it is in the sharp pain that causes her phone to fall from her hand and leaves breathless. It is a feeling like static noise, for a moment, there is a vivid memory that she cannot remember being hers, but it must be; familiar, like one she’s seen in her dream, because her brother is there, and Neku—

Something brushing against her hand grounds her, and her eyes focus on a figure in front of her as the pain lingers to a sting in the back of her mind. They have never met, formally speaking, but she knows him, of course. Well, knows of Joshua, anyhow; the bits and pieces that she has heard.

( Specifically, the very, very not so good things that she has heard, because she has had it drilled into her that she should she ever meet Shibuya’s Composer, she should not trust him, and that Neku is very wrong to still trust him, as Beat would say. Neku’s side of the story is more personal, one that she does not quite know, but she would like to think that his judgement is fair enough )

“My apologies. You do have quite a high imagination, don’t you?” He says, as if she would know the answer to that; stares at him, a little lost for a moment. “Still, yours is less than Neku’s. The frequency’s not supposed to be as bad in the RG. Better now?” For as condescending as he sounds, she gets the feeling that he’s at least somewhat sincere in what he says.

Regardless, her smile is mostly genuine as she shakes her head, fingers curling around her cooling cup as a comfort. “I-It’s fine, really… it’s not everyday that just anyone gets to meet with the Composer, right?”

“For most people? No.” A wry smile, a tilt of his head as he observes her. “That said, I don’t care for too much small talk. Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

She nods, though truthfully, she is not entirely sure what this is about.

“You are having a hard time adjusting, hm?” A thoughtful murmur, like he’s musing over something.

“Adjusting to what?” Again, Rhyme is not certain what he is talking about—which is almost frightening, if she thinks about it, since she should know herself best; regardless, while she might have an inkling, its best to not be a presumptuous.

“To being alive again— of course, it is debatable if Players are really dead, but in your case… well, only to be expected dear; we don’t often see people back without an entry fee, and we do that for a reason.” A frown. “Then again, given your situation, I can’t really blame you for not getting the full purpose that the game is meant to serve.”

“I…” She pauses to ponder her words, a little startled by the turn in subject: some part of her, she thinks, had hoped for this from the start, when she saw who it was to greet her here. “Is it hopeless, then? Am I meant to… move on, I suppose?”

“That’s really up to you.” He speaks, nonchalant shrug. “The fee has never meant to serve as a punishment, but for self-reflection. Most of those who come to participate in the Reapers’ Game, amongst other common qualities, are those who can serve a purpose, show worth; thus, in allowing them the chance to reflect, they can earn themselves a second chance. Those who don’t survive likely would not show enough potential, and there is no loss in them not getting back their entry fee. In your case, well— had you not sacrificed yourself then, you both surely would have made it through the week.” A briefly stop, expression playful; for a moment, Joshua seems much more human. “Your brother, in any case, perhaps could have served to learn more from all of this, don’t you think?”

That jab makes her giggle a little, even if she feels a little bad laughing at Beat when he’s absent; feet swinging out a little from her seat, a little more at ease than she had moments ago. “So then… there’s still something I need to learn?” That’s not so much an unwelcome thing to hear— she can at least take action, in that case. Besides, its not as if she thinks she doesn’t still have things to learn, heavy weight of responsibilities on her shoulders lift momentarily, reminds her that she is still a child in some aspects.

“Are you interested in learning about what you’ve lost?” Expression of mirth, a particular gleam in his eyes, and instinctively she shrinks back when he leans forward.

“How…? What does that entail?” She is timid, a little fearful, and rightfully so, all things considered— for a short moment, she is reminded of her brother’s warnings— but she is intrigued all the same, and does not shy away completely from the prospect.

“I can show you.” All-knowing Cheshire cat smiles, lips pull back to bare teeth; Peter Pan offers an immortal childhood in Neverland in the palm of his hand, held out in offer. “Shall we play a game?”

The weights on her shoulders stop her from lifting her arm, to escape away into the unknown; she feels so heavy with the burden on her shoulders, childhood that she has forgotten. Deep breath—

She shakes off her responsibilities and places a hand in his, accepts invite to be stolen away to Wonderland.

( A certain person smiles behind a cup of coffee. “Couldn’t have waited long enough for me to get back, Josh? Well, your call.” )

–

She wakes up alone.

Rhyme pushes herself up from the ground and takes a long look around— Spain Hill, she quickly gathers by the sharp scent wafting past her. Brows furrow slightly as she tries to figure out why she’s here, but draws a blank: rather, the last thing she recalls is dying, but something doesn’t completely add up. Distantly, she can hear a muffled yell, vaguely like someone shouting a name; blurs into the background noise of everyday life on the streets, but—

( She is struck with the thought that her brother must be worried sick about her. She wonders if he is around here too, given that she’d been running after him, hadn’t she? )

She can recall dying, but, well; her thoughts do not get the chance to get much further than that, a quiet chirping alert sounding from her phone gains her attention. Flipping over her phone, she scans the message; barely has time to make sense of the words when there’s a sting in her hand and, innately, some part of her knows and understands what she needs to do. Form a pact. Complete missions. Simple, however—

“Watch out!” A voice calls out to her, and she glances up from her phone in time to realize Noise have begun to surround her. Not great, but if she darts left she can probably escape. She’ll take her chances.

And just in time too, apparently; she is scooped up as she dives out of the way of a frog— startled, she peers up at her savior as her fingers grasp for a steady hold. “Gotcha! You ‘kay?” He peers down from beneath his beanie, and despite the rough look this stranger has, she cannot help but feel safe like this; some part of her innately trusts him.

 “Yeah. Thanks for saving me.” She feels like she can breathe a little easier now, though her eyes keep watching for any Noise. “Let me properly introduce myself; my name is Rhyme. It’s nice to meet you.”

( There is one memory from the game she can recall with complete clarity )

“Le’s be partners. I mean, we don’t got a lotta time to waste, y’know?” He blurts his words so suddenly and without hesitation that it makes her smile a little, clings to the safety that he brings.

“Sure.”

–

When she comes to, she is moving— being moved, that is. A low murmur from somewhere nearby cuts through the muddled buzz that is her consciousness right now; does her best to seem unconscious while she listens in to the conversation and tries to figure out things.

“— and besides, I can’t just do that, Neku. It’s Eri’s birthday we’re talking about! She’s my best friend.” Shiki. So she’s still in Shibuya, then?

“Glad to hear we’re just chopped liver.” A grumble, and Rhyme can imagine that Neku’s probably just shrugged in response. “Listen, you asked for suggestions, I offered. I was just following the directions you gave, so don’t complain.”

“I was hoping you might be a little more optimistic. Lighten up a bit!” She sighs, and she must’ve moved because Shiki suddenly sounds much closer to her than before, and she does her best to mask the slight wince that follows. “You okay, Beat? Do you need a break from carrying her?”

“Nah, not even. If anythin’, kid could stand to gain a few pounds.” And her brother is the last to speak— though his presence had been a foregone conclusion in her mind, she did not expect to be carried by anyone else. And yet, there is a sense of unfamiliarity in referring to her: does he not know her? Is this what the Composer meant by a game?

Conversation has continued on without her, though she has tuned it out while she ponders her situation, beneath her, he shifts his hold on her; a little more awake now, Rhyme now realizes that she’s been carried on his back, and her fingers dig in a little where her arms have been haphazardly slung over his shoulders. “Yo, you ‘wake, kiddo?”

Ah, jig’s up. She hums a soft acknowledgement, lifting her head up slightly. “You can put me down now.”

“Don’t count on it. We found you passed out by Hachiko. Like, no one else seemed to notice? Anyways, I don’t think Beat’s letting you go just yet.” Beat sputters protests at Shiki’s statements ( a very loud “Stop embarrassing me” is shouted ): even as strangers, her brother is the same as always. Rhyme giggles a little at their antics, resting her head back down as she makes sure her thanks is heard; admittedly, whatever had caused her to pass out in the first place was tiring her body. Which is to say, she remembers meeting with Joshua, but she doesn’t exactly know how she got here; which might be besides the point, honestly. She shuts her eyes and listens to Shiki, Neku, and Beat bicker, bites her tongue from joining in.

( Even here, she’s the odd one out, isn’t she? )

It’s fine though, she’ll use the time to glean what she can from their conversation; which is very little, truthfully speaking. Everyone seems mostly the same as she knows them, and yet, there feels something distinctively different about the people here in a way she can’t quite name. It probably doesn’t make a difference, isn’t something of her immediate concern; considers what she needs to do here instead. Unfortunately, she’s still a bit lost in that regard, and clarification does not seem to be coming anytime soon; though maybe she’ll have an opportunity to check her phone soon and she can pray that there’s something there. She doesn’t realize when it’s gone quiet, just that suddenly there are two less voices, and Beat’s repositioning his grip on her again. “Hey, you still awake, or didja fall asleep on me?”

“Asleep.” She murmurs, just to be cheeky, tapping at his arms as she pushes herself up. “I can walk from here.”

Beat seems to consider protesting for a moment before thinking better of it, crouching down a bit as he lets her hop off. “Lemme at least walk back home with ya. It’s getting late.” She peers up towards the sky and he’s right, so she’s inclined to agree, except…

That’s a bit of a problem, really. During the Reapers’ Game, that had never been an issue since besides the factors of how the game worked, people couldn’t see them anyways. Here, however…

She doesn’t have a home to go to. Which means her first manner of business is somehow getting him to leave her be— by convincing him, or some other manner of being.

“I’ll be okay! It’s not… it’s not that far from here.” If she can convince him, that’ll be easiest; though admittedly this might not be the most convincing approach. “Besides, won’t your parents mind if you’re out too late?” It’s definitely already past dinner time, and if she knows what their parents are like, then…

He makes a face at that comment. “Nah. ‘Sides, if you don’t live that far ways, then it’ll be a quick trip anyways.”

Ah. She should have predicted that, honestly. “No, really, it’s okay… I’m fine on my own.”

A scowl. “No way. Tha’s just… it’d be totally uncool of me to let ya go on your own.”

“But…” But she can’t let him, there are no words for her to say, so she falls silent, head hangs low as she screws her eyes shut. Think; she’s always had a good plan when the going gets tough ( but admittedly, life has just generally been rough lately, but she still needs something better to do ). Neither of them say a thing, before finally, he seems to give in, patience runs out quick as he lets out a growl and—

Eyes snap open with a startled gasp as her hand is pulled and she very nearly stumbles over her feet trying to keep up the sudden pace he has set. Bewildered, she stares up at him; though in hindsight, she should not be that surprised— leave it to Beat to do what she least predicts. “We’re gonna get dinner. And then you’re gonna tell me what your deal is, ‘kay?” A pause, and then he glances back at her. “And introductions, it’s gettin’ old real quick just calling you kid.”

“M’kay.” Voice barely more than a whisper, she ignores the sting of grateful tears that have gathered in the corner of her eyes— she’s not that much of a child, anymore; no reason she should be crying over something as small as this. “My name is Rhyme. It’s… it’s nice to meet you.”

( Nice to meet someone she practically knows by heart, anyways )

If that means anything to him, she cannot tell, since he turns back to looking ahead of them. “Rhyme. Cool, cool. I’m Beat.” He keeps to his word and doesn’t press her further for the time being, and she’s grateful for that; focuses on the firm, yet gentle grip on her hand as they take the familiar route to Ramen Don, uses the time to figure out what story she’s going to make up… or at least, figure out one that’ll be convincing enough to fool him, which shouldn’t be too hard, if she knows him nearly as well as she knows her own brother.

They sit up at the bar, where they are greeted by Master Chef Ken ( okay, that’s what she’s always called him growing up, anyways, moving on )— so far, same old same here too. Her feet dangle from the stool as she seats herself, and she pretends to peer over the menu in contemplation. “Pops! The usual Tonkotsu Ramen for me, extra noodles. Tell me when you know what you want?”

“Tonkotsu for me too. Please.” She murmurs, putting away the menu.

“Two tonkotsu ramen, coming right up.” Ken disappears towards the back, leaving the two of them alone again.

“So you’re a fan of the classic meat? Or are you just not that picky?” He asks, and she half shrugs in response.

“A little of both. My brother’s favorite is tonkotsu too… so it’s what I’m used to.” It’s odd speaking about Beat like he’s not right here with her, but that’s for the best, it’d be even weirder otherwise.

“You have a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older. It’s just us two.” She has to bite back a small laugh at the irony of this.

“Some older brotha’ he is, letting you runs ‘round like this unsupervised.” He grumbles, squinting at her. “Ain’tcha like, eight..? How old’s you anyways?”

She pouts a little, but it is in good nature; naturally, it is reinvent of the bantering she is used to between them. “I’m twelve, jeez. I’m not that young.”

“Still young enough that ya shouldn’t be outs on your own, pipsqueak.” He elbows her none too gently, but she had already braced herself for such and doesn’t tilt too far off her seat. “Wha’s so good about a brother who doesn’ keep his lil’ sis safe?”

“He keeps me plenty safe.” Rhyme disagrees; almost too safe, sometimes, she could argue. “Besides, he’s my brother. Why wouldn’t I love him? He’s… sweet.” Sure, not without his own flaws, and they certainly don’t always see eye to eye— but that doesn’t mean she loves Beat any less. Certainly not enough of a reason for her to speak ill of him; the thought of complaining about her brother to his double seems wrong, anyhow.

“Wha’ever, I still have some choice words to say when we getcha home.” He huffs, a pinch of annoyance in his expression— head lifts up, a sniff of the air. “Food’s commin’.” Like some sort of sixth sense, he is indeed correct, as their bowls are brought out to them, though Rhyme’s pretty sure he probably could just hear them finish cooking.

She’s barely finished uttering a quiet thanks for her food, while Beat has already begun to dig into his dish; she bites back a soft giggle, how very much like him.

( Ah. This is no good. It’s been barely, what? A few hours? She is not quite homesick, per say, but missing her brother wasn’t something she’d factored into being an issue— then again, how was she supposed to expect this? Well, no: she probably should’ve known whatever she agreed to with the Composer would’ve been unexpected )

She realizes she’s probably being too quiet and picks up her chopsticks to start eating before she raises any suspicion on his part. Rich broth, well cooked noodles; this is the taste of home, a familiar comfort for this troubled moment in time. There is a brief moment, where her hand moves almost instinctively before she catches herself— habits kick in easily when her mind thinks she is in the same place, with the same person. She is used to bequeathing the meat chunks in her soup to her brother and pilfering some of the noodles from his dish in exchange; but that would be weird action coming from a stranger, and she hangs her head with an embarrassed flush of her cheeks. Again, grateful that he is too busy eating to note any of this, and focuses on actually eating this time, lest her food goes cold.

Beside her, Beat makes a noise of satisfaction when he’s finished eating; leaning on one arm as he observes her. “You shouldn’t put your elbows on the table.” She murmurs after thoroughly chewing a mouthful of noodles. “It’s bad manners.”

“So what? It ain’t in my style to care ‘bout what other people think, yo.” Though he does seem to consider her words and lifts his arm from the countertop; straightening his back. Nothing else is said on the topic, the only noise is other patrons in the shop and the quiet slurp as she eats. She pushes her bowl away when she finishes, murmurs a quick thanks as she pats at her pockets. She should have her wallet on her still, since she’d gone shopping with it this morning…

“What’cha doing?” She stops when he speaks, expression like a deer in the headlights.

“Paying…?” Rhyme says slowly, like it is a perfectly normal and acceptable thing to be doing.

“Stop that, ain’t gonna make a kid for your meal. What kinda messed up world do ya live in?” He pulls out his own wallet, producing the correct amount of change for their meal— she wants to protest, but knows it will do her no good, stifles her feelings and drops her hand; a brief moment, she is briefly reminded of the weight on her shoulders. And then she breathes out, shakes it off, and waves farewell to Ken as she follows Beat out of the shop.

They walk for a bit, because he does not press her to speak, and she doesn’t really know where to start, but she does want to, because they made a deal, and also because even if he’s not her brother, she still doesn’t like hiding things from him. But she can’t tell him the truth, that much was obvious from the start, so she’ll go through with the made-up story like she planned.

Or at least, that had been the plan, but then her mind went and blurted out something else altogether. “I— I’m lost.” Well, that’s not quite a lie. She certainly feels lost, at the very least. “Well, n-not exactly lost, but… I can’t go home right now.”

“How come?” He asks, prods the subject; because he is Beat, she knows it is equal parts out of concern, and out of impatience. Though really, she needs that extra prod right now, if she’s to be honest.

“It’s… complicated.” Particularly because she doesn’t know what exactly she’s supposed to be doing— getting from this. “I just have to wait until I can go home.” There is some truth to that: wait, and do some things, probably. It is just a matter of what she has to do.

“…So you don’t got no place to go, yo. Tha’s messed up.” He says after a moment, and— glad you’re following along, Beat. She nods, the quiet beginnings of an apology dripping from her lips before he shushes her. “Don’chu dare apologize ‘cause I asked in the first place. It’s aight man, think I’ve got an idea. You up for a walk?”

She doesn’t really have many options at the moment, and then there’s the fact that, innately, she trusts him, she will always trust Beat; despite the fact that there may be some flaw in this ‘idea’ of his, she lets him lead the way. After a while she gets an inkling that she knows where they’re going, and it’s admittedly a decent one, even if her reasoning is a different reason than his.

Beat pushes the door open to WildKat like it’s his front door, drags her inside without waiting for any cue that the shop was even open. “Yo, H-Man! You here?”

“No need t’ yell. You’re gonna scare customers one of these days.” Calm voice chides, WildKat’s owner stands there before them. Even back home, she had never met Mr. Hanekoma, so she has no frame of reference of what to expect, for once, a fact that is somewhat refreshing. “This your cousin or somethin’?” Uncomfortably, Rhyme pointedly avoids his gaze, takes a sudden interest in the tiled floor. That just hits a little too close to home right now for her to want to acknowledge— rather, cannot acknowledge, really.

Thankfully, Beat had either missed what he said, or has opted to ignore it, swinging his arm around her shoulders. “H-Man’s cool, Rhyme; relax. You can trust him, trust me. This is Rhyme, by the way, Mr. H. She don’t gots a place right now, so I thought you might be cool with lettin’ her hang here for a while.”

“Do I look like a place for strays to you?” He gripes, and Beat must’ve given him some kind of look, because he follows that up with a sharp laugh. “Aw— don’t give me that look, kid; I was joking. You really thought I was gonna say no? C’mon, I’m not nearly that cruel. You’ll just owe me a favor for this.” Her gaze finally snaps away from the tiles upon hearing that.

“But you cruel enough ta make me owe you one? You drive a hard bargain, but—”

“Th-That’s not necessary. I can— I’ll help out while I’m here to make up for it.” Granted, she probably would have offered to do so anyhow— it’s the least she could do— but especially because Rhyme doesn’t want her presence to be any more of a bother than it’s already been.

“Oh?” For the first time, his gaze really seems to settle on her; peering at her from over the rim of his glasses. “Could maybe stand to learn a thin’ or two from her, Skulls.”

“Naw. Beat wouldn’t be Beat if he did.” She can hear him sputter a little when she speaks and smiles at the hand that settles on her head; does not notice a distant pair of eyes watching the pair of them.

“Fair point. Anyways, you can leave her wit’ me. Hope ya don’t mind the couch, lil’ missy.”

“It’s more than fine, thank you.” A table would have been acceptable, honestly; shoulders sag with relief.

Beat ( not so ) gently slaps her back. “See? Toldja you could trust ‘im.”

“Aight children, say goodnight. One of ya needs to get home before curfew hits.”

“It’s not that late, H-Man.” Beat looks a little put out; but, after a moment’s hesitation, he complies— either he must really respects Hanekoma, or doesn’t want to push his luck tonight. Maybe a little of both, plus depending on their parents; she can only wonder what that relation is like, here. “’kay. I’ll swing by sometime tomorrow, aight?”

“You— you will?” She curses herself for slipping up a little, doesn’t mean to seem so surprised; but they are supposed to be strangers, so its excusable, at least.

“Course. It’s a promise, yo.” He bumps is hand against hers, pinky to pinky— then raises his hand in farewell. “See ya, H-Man.”

“Get going, kid.” It’s said in a kindly manner, she thinks; curious if that is usually characteristic of him to do so, but does not get long to ponder that thought because he turns towards her. “Let’s get you settled for the night, kid.”

–

It’s hard to distinguish between what are her memories and what are not sometimes, when bits and pieces of it comes to her in her sleep. Sometimes it is easy to tell what is real, in the exaggerated manner of certain things.

Sometimes, things feel too real to not be at least somewhat rooted in reality, like a hand tightly clasped around her and—

She starts awake, eyes snap open, and she stares up at the ceiling tiredly for a long moment before rolling over on the couch. Even here, she cannot escape nightmares.

( When she was a much younger, younger child; when faced with a nightmare, it had not been her parents she’d ran to, but straight to the comfort of her brother’s bed. For so long, he had stood as a paragon of a protector, so even at the slightest problem she’d run to him, and then—

And then—

Little girl grew up, and stopped running to him for every little thing.

Sometimes, she wishes she could go back to being that child again and talk about the dreams that haunt her. She’s sure Beat would still comfort her, the same way he always has ).

Her hands graze over her neck, like she can still feel a phantom ghost of a touch there, and— she shudders; she supposes that she’s not getting back to sleep quite yet. She gets up from the couch to grab a glass of water, give her something to distract herself with. She walks quietly, does not want to disturb the peace of the night; intrude on a place she doesn’t belong to. She has already been assured to make herself at home, but even reaching into a cupboard feels odd— she’ll probably apologize for intruding in the morning.

Glass in hand, Rhyme turns around— very nearly loses grasp on her glass as she comes face to face with a figure lounging on the countertop. Almost screams, actually; if it were not for the hand slapped over her mouth that makes her a little more aware of her actions.

Oh, right— Mr. Hanekoma had mentioned something about having someone else around, huh? Probably shouldn’t be that surprised. Then again, Joshua was just hanging out there in the dark, so her alarm might be justified, all things considered. Anyways.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. You’re Rhyme, right? I’m Joshua.” Serene smile, all too knowing; though she is fairly certain that this is not the Joshua that she familiar with.

“Right. It’s nice to meet you…?” She wonders if it’d be rude of her to start edging away now.

“I’ve got a message for you. From the me that you know, if that makes sense to you.” It does, if not raises some ( slightly unrelated ) questions, but she figures that must be the Composer’s privilege. She gestures for him to continue speaking, and he crosses his legs. “There are no set terms to this game. This is for your benefit, so you are to find the answer to your dilemma on your own. That’s it. We will be watching, as he says.”

Who is this ‘we’, she wonders— the two of them? “And you?”

“Just the messenger, dear.” He hums, though there’s a certain look in his eyes, and she considers the fact that she probably shouldn’t take what he says at face value.

“Is that all…?” Part of her feels like that can’t be it, given all the warnings she has heard about him before, and part of her feels like there should be something else she has to say; but he simply smiles at her, so she opts to take her leave before she regrets staying and returns to the couch.

So, there are no rules to this game. She mulls over this revelation, fingers tapping against glass mug. But she’s supposed to figure it out on her own terms? That might… take longer than she expected. And watching, her progress will be watched? If she had not been through the reaper’s game before, she might feel upset over this thought; but as she is not, if anything, it is reassuring.

…Still, she needs to get a plan together if she wants this to go well. She sighs, head tilting up to stare up at the ceiling.

It’s going to be a long night.

[bulletinreporter]

FIC REC MASTERPOST

This is my ultimate fic recomendation masterpost. The pairings are always bucky barnes x reader. 

→ The ones who are nsfw will be marked as scuh.

→ Organized alphabetically.

→ All links open in a new tab.

365 Days by @abovethesmokestacks

NSFW|SFW

Summary: “You all know how it is, the one constant in this hellish life: you have a soulmate. No idea who it is, no clues whatsoever, only 25 years to find them. In 364 days, my time’s up. It sounds like a lot, but so does 25 years, and look where that got me. So, for better or for worse, I’ll try. I’ve got twelve months to find whoever my soul is knit together with.”

Animals Awaken by @221bshrlocked 

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Bucky forgets to take his supressants in time during a mission with you. You offer your help but he rejects, afraid that he’d hurt you because it’s his first rut since decades. And well, you know the rest.

Because You Want This by @sirenphrynne

NSFW|SFW

Summary: A hardcore/forced sex fic where the reader finds the Winter Soldier in her room.

Change Your Mind by @jamesbvck

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Senior Year: the last year to be a somebody or a nobody. A chance to fall in love, ace that final exam and make memories. After a terrible first impression, Bucky makes it his mission to fix the mistake he made with the new girl. Will they get their chance?

Call It Destiny by @scrumptious-delusion

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Your life changed forever when you discovered you had abilities. Others in your position may have called being able to see the future a gift, you saw it as a burden most days. Just when your life has finally reached a sense of normalcy, an image settles in your mind. You’ve had them before – you know that the only way to get rid of it is to confront it. But you want normal and anything to do with the Avengers compound cannot possibly be normal. However, you know you can’t ignore it. What follows is a whirlwind of events that even you couldn’t have seen coming – especially where Bucky is involved.

Call Out My Name by @bvcks

NSFW|SFW

Summary: At 18, you discovered your abilities. they were visions. they led you to people who weren’t meant to be found. however, the bad overpowers your greatness, and unveils the dark mysteries when bucky goes missing - and only you can find him.

Everything Has Changed by @buckyywiththegoodhair

NSFW|SFW

Summary: In which everything changes when you discover Bucky’s true feelings for you in a very unconventional manner.

Found Of The Classics by @thottybarnes

NSFW|SFW

Summary: When the sexual tension between you and Bucky is stifling, Natasha becomes her scheming, conniving self.

Fifty Shades Of Bucky by @captain-rogers-beard

NSFW|SFW

Summary: A series of sexual escapades where Bucky shows you what it’s like to give in to your deepest desires.

Heart & Soul by @all1e23

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Alphas only brought trouble. The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omega’s pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them. She didn’t need an Alpha and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that. Not again. No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists. And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.

If I Were You by @dani-si

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Your relationship is going through a bad phase. What happens when you and Bucky accidentally swap bodies?

Inevitable by @lovelynemesis

NSFW|SFW

Summary: A/B/O Dynamics. Reader is an Omega and Bucky an Alpha. Can you manage to not let the inevitable happen?   

Mind Games by @softhairbarnes

NSFW|SFW

Summary: You are a feared adversary of the Avengers, having crossed paths with them a few times before. When Bucky is brought back in for missions, he finds out the hard way how dangerous you really are.

Most Wanted by @sgtjbuccky   

NSFW|SFW

Summary: The life you dreamed of wasn’t the one you lived. Day in and day out you tried to change the outcome, but somehow you always ended up right where you began. Fed up with it all, you wished upon a star and was granted with Bucky Barnes, and it wouldn’t take you long to realize that whatever mess you were about to get tangled up in, it would change your life entirely. (Disney’s Tangled/Modern!AU)

My Neighbour's a Jerk by @jurassicbarnes 

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Modern-Day (AU) There’s this mutual feeling between you and your neighbor, called hate. And since your first meet you both commence that feeling with a burning passion. You don’t know the reason behind his hate and you know for damn sure that he will never tell you. But what happens on the first day of your job, when you find out that you even work together? Maybe you will learn to co-operate?

Retro by @the-canary

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Please, third times the charm, right? Because James Barnes is tired of failing at this thing called love. 

San Francisco by @petersshirts    

NSFW|SFW

Summary: People age until they’re 18 and then stop ageing until they meet their soulmate so they can grow old together; but what happens if you realise at 22 that you’ve been with the wrong guy for four years?

The Things We've Done by @pandalandalopalis

NSFW|SFW

Summary: All you wanted was simplicity. You had moved to Washington, DC for a better start - to get away from what you were, to get away from what you were expected to be. You never thought you’d meet the Captain America in a bar just three days after moving. You never thought there would be a dangerous person in your apartment just hours after meeting him. Beginning with the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Hydra sends its most deadly weapon after a powerful telepath untested in the range of her abilities. Intrigued by the broken pieces of his mind, the two of you make an agreement: he helps you hide from Hydra, and you repair and salvage what’s left of his memories.

The Fallout by @whitewolfbumble

NSFW|SFW

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

The Cassandra Project by @apricotparker

NSFW|SFW

Summary: The Avengers find out what’s keeping them from doing their jobs. Bucky remembers an old friend.

Tripping For You by @bloodiedskirtts

NSFW|SFW

Summary: It’s Y/N’s sophmore year of college, and she’s never had a boyfriend before. But all that will change when her best friend Steve finds out about her crush on him. Determined to prove she doesn’t care for him, bad boy Bucky Barnes comes up with a genius plan. To prove she’s over Steve and he’s not “pussy whipped”.

You're My Mission by @shreddedparchment

NSFW|SFW

Summary: Hydra is not as dead as everyone thought. After losing both parents in one night, Captain America saves you and takes you to Wakanda where he introduces you to his best friend Bucky Barnes who is tasked with turning you into a strong soldier. Of course, just because he has to spend time with you, doesn’t mean he has to like you.

→ Last update: 20/October.

[wenevergotusedtoegypt]

I feel stuck in a spiral at work.

I used to love my job. There were always issues and whatever, but I enjoyed most of the people I worked with and felt like I was genuinely friends with many of them. I often stayed past 5pm not because I had to, but because I was chatting with people.

There was a rough spot in early 2018 where one of the few coworkers I actively didn’t like lied to me and superiors in an effort to get himself promoted and me demoted and it seemed at first like it wasn’t going to be taken seriously enough. But in May 2018 he got fired and I got promoted to a position I’d previously turned down a year before, having (I thought) negotiated out the parts of the job that had led me to say no the first time. He was gone and I got a big raise and it seemed like everything would go back to being good. Even during that time before he got fired, I remember at one point he was trying to slander me to other coworkers and one of them saying to me, “Why would he even try that? Doesn’t he know you’re friends with all those people?”

But instead of getting better I feel like it’s just gotten worse and worse. Part of that is that the promises I was made about my position weren’t all kept. Part of it is that some people I was friends with have left and I haven’t clicked as well with the people who replaced them. Part of it is that once I became a supervisor, plus was also dealing with planning a wedding and then being newly married (which happened all at once - my supervisee, which was originally 2 supervisees til they restructured a bit later on, started the day after my l’chaim), I just didn’t have as much time and freedom to walk around and talk to my work friends who are still there. 

And part of it is just feeling really disillusioned that after over 3 years and a major change in leadership the same old problems are still happening and not being addressed by the people who have the power to do so. I was pretty hopeful about the new head guy for a bit after he first started, but it’s turning out to be the same old same old. The coworker who has been mistreating others for literally decades, who doesn’t have a professional bone in his body, is still there and not going anywhere it seems (despite initial promises that he would be out). The insanely lazy coworker who hardly does any work and nearly ruined a major project this year got a promotion and will have even more authority over that exact project going forward. New policies still aren’t being properly thought through prior to implementation and people who didn’t have a hand in putting them into effect are still having to deal with the fallout.

I had a meeting with my boss about various things today, and I feel like she handled this one situation really poorly. If you’ll remember, a few months ago I got feedback that “people” didn’t feel comfortable asking me for things/didn’t think I was doing my job/whatever. Well apparently “people” still don’t feel comfortable asking me for things. I have no idea who “people” are or if it’s even more than 1 person in reality, I have no idea if this is the same “people” as a few months ago who just...hasn’t asked me for anything since then so like how am I supposed to change that perception, or if it’s new people. This came up because my boss noticed someone else in my department doing things that are really my job recently, and when she asked her why, that person told her that “people” are coming to her because they don’t feel comfortable coming to me. My boss didn’t bother to get details on who “people” is, so I’m left with this completely unproductive, vague knowledge that “people” (could be anyone, could be any number) dislike me (I did point this out to her and she said she will try to find out more information so that this can be an actually productive conversation, but I feel like that should have been done before she ever spoke to me, this time AND a few months ago). If it’s “people” from before, I kind of feel like the situation was aggravated by my boss not giving this other coworker a real job description until recently, because she now has no sense of boundaries in terms of what’s her job and what isn’t, and if “people” aren’t interacting with me I can’t change “people’s” perspective of me.

I also just...don’t feel like I treat people differently than I ever have when asked for things, and I never had this type of complaint prior to a few months ago except from 1 coworker who was constantly asking me to do things that were not my responsibility and I didn’t have time to do, and she took my saying no to those things (but not to what was actually my job) as being “inflexible” or whatever. I don’t put up with narishkeit - if you’re repeatedly asking for unreasonable things or reasonable things on unreasonable timelines, I will politely but firmly address it - but I don’t think I am unfriendly or rude and I also don’t think that’s anything new from back when people liked me. But that’s just it, this vague amorphous “people” could literally just be that same 1 coworker for all I know? But I don’t know, so I’m left with this feeling of being surrounded by people who may or may not like me, which makes me less generally inclined to be social, which maybe people see as unfriendly? Like I don’t even freaking know.

I’m reaching a point where I feel like there is nothing that could make me happy at this job again. No change in responsibilities, nothing. It’s been permanently ruined for me on too many levels and nothing could salvage it.

But logistically I can’t leave until at least June-July next year, because I’m not about to try to get a new job 7 months pregnant and lose out on all the maternity leave benefits I have even if I succeed. And then I’m required to stay for 6 months after returning to work or pay back a significant portion of those benefits.

And I honestly don’t even know what type of job would make me happy anyway. I’ve looked at job listings to try to get ideas. Nothing strikes me. And there’s no real natural path to a different type of position than what I’m doing now, which I don’t want to be doing.

I don’t know.