#Blood Sweat & Tears Greatest Hits

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV Headcanons! ♔🤍♕

A/N: So, here we are. I could not resist this mysterious and tormented king's charm. His silky voice makes me dream! These are some headcanons I've collected off the top of my head. The Reader is implied to be female and married to Baldwin IV. Please, do feel free to hit my inbox to ramble about our king because I'm literally dying of pining and yearning.

tags: female!reader x baldwin iv of jerusalem (from kingdom of heaven); reader is married to baldwin iv of jerusalem; fluff; slight angst towards the end

wc: 1150k

reccomended songs to listen to while reading: "Summertime Sadness" by Hildegard von Blingin; "Right Here" by Ashes Remain; "Blood, Sweat, Tears" by BTS (orchestral version)

"Many are the tales of the King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and of his Queen. Despite the varying accounts of their deeds, each one of them agrees on one aspect: the King of Jerusalem loved his Queen dearly, and the world is richer for it".

Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your la as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

All in all, to love Baldwin means knowing your time together is limited. As is the time of all creatures on Earth. He would beg you to go on after his passing, to live for him. He shall wait for you and protect you from above. Until the very end.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Queen of the Halfpipe 🏂 | Jake Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x pro snowboarder!reader (romantic), the dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 10k

Requested 📨 yes/no—for @gizmodear 🤍 (rules for requests)

Premise: Dedication, determination, blood, sweat, and tears. That’s what athletes put in when they say they want to compete on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Years of hard work that come with sacrifices. At a young age Y/n L/n knew she wanted to be the best when it came to snowboarding, devoting herself to the Olympic dream. Love wasn’t something she thought would happen for her as she was so focused on her career. But, as someone once pointed out to her years after she did in fact find her happily ever after, she was living in her own little Hallmark movie.

Note: ah I’ve finally finished and I’m so happy with how it turned out! @gizmodear I apologize for the long wait (i think you sent this request at the beginning of February) but I hope you like this and I delivered with everything you could’ve imagined 🥹 I really love writing the athlete!reader x dagger squad paring fics so this was so fun to write. I did so much research to be as accurate as I could since I am not familiar with snowboarding. I did watch Chloe Kim in 2018 & 2022 so a lot of what reader accomplishes in this fic was inspired by her so I hope you don’t mind that I did that (except the ending since the 2026 Olympics hasn’t happened yet obviously 😂). Please let me know what you think!

——————————————

“So one last run, huh?”

“One last one,” she confirmed, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the slight sadness in her tone. All good things must come to an end.

“Better make it count,” he encouraged her. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about it-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do. That gold medal is calling your name.”

“I better go claim it then.”

“We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.”

Some people like the heat. Going to the beach and riding the waves of the ocean. Others enjoy the rain. The soothing sound of water hitting the pavement brings comfort to their ears. Then there are those who prefer the cold. Not as popular as the other two. People feel the only way to enjoy it is by staying indoors to sit by the fire and watch the snow fall through the window.

Y/n L/n loved the snow. Having grown up in the mountains of Colorado, she was used to blizzards and snowstorms. But she loved it mostly because of the sports associated with it. You know, the ones millions of people gather across the globe every four years to watch at the Winter Olympic Games. Athletes who’ve spent their entire life working to achieve their dream of glory. People who are not even patriotic rep their colors. Children watching for the first time think, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

That’s how it was for ten year old Y/n Ln watching the 2002 Winter Olympics on the small tv screen in the living room of her home. It was a special year of the Games. Hosted on US soil in Salt Lake City, Utah. Taking place in the months after the country was met with tragedy following the attacks on the World Trade Center in September 2001. Not a dry eye in the stadium or on those watching from home as the flag that flew on Ground Zero was brought into the arena by members of Team USA along with the NYPD & FDNY.

The Olympic torch was passed by members of the 1980 gold medal winning hockey team, coach Mike Eruzione lighting the cauldron. One of the most notable teams in US Olympic history. They were just college students up against the number one team in the world in 1980, which ironically enough, was also on US soil in Lake Placid, New York. Anyone who watched them play could recall the chills they felt when the buzzer counted down to zero with sportscaster Al Micheals yelling, “Do you believe in miracles? YES!” Winning that game didn’t deliver the gold medal, no, it only secured their place in the final match. There they defeated Finland 4-2, shooting themselves into history.

Y/n was familiar with many of the sports she grew to love watching. Her family owned and lived on a ski resort, so the art of skiing and snowboarding came to her at a young age. She was around four years old the first time she went down hill with her father. By the time she was around eight she could do it on her own with little help.

While her parents enjoyed skiing, Y/n was drawn to snowboarding. More specifically, the halfpipe.

At a whopping 11 to 22 feet in the air and slopes between 16 to 18 degrees, the halfpipe brings fast momentum to snowboarders allowing them to perform difficult spins and skills as they pass from wall to wall. For the Olympics, 22 feet was the typical height of the walls.

The first time Y/n attempted to drop in on the halfpipe was at the age of ten. After watching Team USA sweep the medals in the mens and watching Kelly Clark win gold for the women, Y/n was determined to one day stand on the podium and be crowned the queen of the halfpipe. Nerves were present, as they usually are when one tries to do something they’ve never done. With her parents and a snowboarding instructor present, Y/n became the little daredevil she was and tried her best.

Of course she couldn’t be bold and attempt spins and jumps just yet. Surely that would end her career before it could even start. No, instead they would work on getting used to traveling down the slopes first. On top of that Y/n would have to unlock her inner gymnast so she could do the flips when she got air.

Her preteen years were dedicated to training. Homeschooling became a thing. Everyday she was out working tirelessly to the point her legs would ache. Often there would be a bad run where getting up from the snow would take an arm and leg to do. Balancing a social life as a teenager was impossible. Y/n pretty much sold her soul to snowboarding. But that’s what one has to do when they dream of Olympic glory.

By the time Y/n was 15 she was already making a name for herself after joining the U.S Snowboarding Team. She won titles left and right that people were coming to her family's ski resort just to watch her train. A competitor of the Winter X Games at age 16, Y/n secured the gold after her second run in the women’s superpipe final with a score of 83.75. Rumors speculated she was going to go for the 2010 Olympic Trials. Having just turned 18, Y/n was a leading contender for the Games.

But you know how there are always bad runs? Yeah….the Trials seemed to give her that.

Y/n was hoping to be the first woman to land the 1080 in competition since no one had done it before. Men had been doing the trick since 2002, not as difficult as some of the other moves they were keen to do. While practicing Y/n had successfully landed it a handful of times. So once she felt she was confident, she planned to put in her trial runs. Her coach insisted she’d wait, but Y/n was determined.

And unfortunately it was going to cost her.

After failing to land on her 1080 on both attempts, Y/n was left at the bottom of the leaderboard even with the lowest and highest dropped from her scoring. Embarrassed and humiliated, Y/n made no effort to hide how devastated she was. Tears fell from her puffy cheeks, the cold doing nothing to help. She tried to avoid the cameras but they followed her everywhere she went.

“Y/n, what does this mean for you going forward?”

“Are you going to train for Sochi?”

“Can we expect to see you at next year’s Winter X Games?”

Returning home from the trials, Y/n spent the first week watching the footage back to see what went wrong. Her coach of almost ten years was with her, scribbling furiously on the white board the error and how to fix them.

“You opened too late,” he told her, circling the area in bright red where Y/n messed up. It made her glare at the spot. “When you do that you come in contact with the snow much quicker than you want—that’s why you lost your balance and fell. You didn’t give much time to stop the momentum from spinning. You need to hit this mark—,” another red circle appeared just above the marked one, “to land on time on your feet without losing balance.”

“You’re gonna make me run this at least twenty times today huh?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he flicks the cap at her, “Now go get ready—we’ve got work to do!”

And so for the next four years Y/n worked harder than she ever did before leading up to the 2010 trials. She’d been snowboarding almost fifteen years at that point, nearly seven at the competitive level. 1080s were what kept her up at night. One of the most difficult moves in women’s halfpipe, Y/n spent the four years working to perfect it. Kelly Clark, the 2002 Gold medalist and 2010 Bronze medalist, ended up becoming the first woman to land it at the 2011 X Games, Y/n taking second place and becoming the second woman to land it the following year.

“Remember what I told you,” her coach squeezed her shoulders just before her turn at the 2014 Winter Olympic Trials. “Let the snow and air guide you, don’t guide them. Keep steady and eyes open—you’ve trained for this and you can do it, Y/n. Just do what you’ve been doing the last four years.”

Taking the advice sure as hell paid off. When Team USA marched into the dome of the opening ceremonies at the Sochi Winter Olympics, Y/n was amongst the 222 athletes representing the red, white, and blue.

Qualifications were nerve racking, but Y/n put her blood, sweat, and tears into the competition. The 1080 had everyone buzzing since it was to be the first time competed in women’s snowboarding at the Olympics. “Just get on your feet,” she told herself, placing her goggles down as she prepared to drop in. “Don’t think about it too much, just do it.”

“And here is 22-year-old Y/n L/n from Aspen, Colorado gearing up for her first run in the women’s halfpipe qualifications. This has got to be a big moment for Y/n, having missed out on the Olympic team four years ago for Vancouver. Here in Sochi she’s a favorite to make the podium after great runs at the Winter X Games, becoming the second woman to land the 1080–which we’ll see her in a moment. Y/n’s been snowboarding since the age of four—as one does when their family owns a popular ski resort. We’re excited to see what she’s got for us today.”

“For those of you watching at home who are new to competitive snowboarding, here’s how the scoring works. The athletes are given two runs—or attempts to score big by doing tricks between each wall as they go down the slope of the halfpipe. A team of six judges will then determine the scores through amplitude, another word for height, difficulty, variety, execution, and progression. The highest and lowest score are then thrown out and the remaining four are averaged together for that run. The highest of the two runs is what will determine their position on the leaderboard.”

With her first run of 90.00 and second a 86.75, Y/n advanced to the semifinals along with Kaitlyn Farrington, and Hannah Teter. Kelly Clark secured her place in the finals as the top qualifying score after qualifications. During the semifinals Y/n brought in a 92.50 and 93.50. Her coach was jumping up and down, her parents screaming and Y/n ran over to them when the results came in.

She was heading to the finals.

A silver lining moment was what she was met with after claiming a score of 91.00 following her two runs. Team USA sweeping the podium: Kaitlyn with the gold, Y/n taking silver, and Kelly the bronze.

At the press junket following the podium ceremony, Y/n could not stop smiling. Even when she was asked the question, “How does it feel to be wearing the silver medal after what happened at the trials four years ago?”

“It feels amazing as you can imagine,” chuckles erupt from all sides. “I try to erase the 2010 trials from my memory, but ultimately that is what made me determined to work so hard these last four years. Being able to represent Team USA and bringing home the silver medal alongside my teammates Kaitlyn and Kelly, who I’ve admired my entire career—and watching Kelly win gold in 2002 is what kickstarted my dream of going to the Olympics…” Y/n pauses, grin growing wider, “It’s truly an honor. I-I’m still coming down from the high of it all.”

“Y/n over here!” The athlete points to a lady, who proceeds to stand from her chair to ask, “I know you’re going to be asked this a lot so let me be the first to, are we going to see you in four years for Pyeongchang?”

Biting her lip, Y/n gave a shrug though her smile remained, “I’m gonna train so the hope is you will see me in 2018, but you never know in sports. Anything can happen. For now I’m gonna celebrate with my coach and my family who traveled all the way from the States with me and then get back to the snow when I get home.”

When one already has established themself as a name in their sport, with an Olympic medal, several national and world titles under their belt, then going bigger is to be expected. Higher difficulty in tricks, more air and speed, fighting with gravity to not fall on your ass. Y/n felt the pressure.

“You want me to do back-to-back 1080s?” She nearly dropped her granola bar, staring at her coach dumbfounded.

“You can do it,” he said as if it were obvious. “You’ve been getting so much momentum on the landing that you’re getting massive height on your 720. You can easily go for the 1080 on that.”

It seemed tricky, but Y/n wasn’t one to say no to a challenge. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

The first time resulted in a face plant in the snow. The second time she lost balance and skidded the rest of the slope on her ass. Finally on the third attempt she managed to catch her feet, exclaiming “Holy shit! I did it!” Off to the side her coach was fist pumping, in a heap of joy for the athlete. Never had anyone successfully landed a back-to-back 1080. But Y/n did in a fucking practice run. “Pyeongchang, here I come!”

When Y/n landed the movements at the 2018 Olympic trials, she was the highlight of the competition.

“The 2014 silver medalist in this event, Y/n L/n dropping in. Great start—setting up for her 1080….beautiful landing—she’s been working hard to perfect and—-OH! Oh my gosh she just did another one!! Did we just witness what I think we did? Holy moly folks I don’t believe it—Y/n L/n has just done the impossible with back-to-back 1080s in a single run!! That’s gonna have a massive score I can already tell.”

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins like never before when Y/n came down from the slope after her final move. Giggling like a maniac, her hands covered her mouth as the crowd roared around her. Her coach was going crazy, as were her friends and family who came out to support. A score of 95.00 sent the audience into a frenzy. And even with her second run, there was no doubt in anyone's mind.

Y/n was heading for Pyeongchang.

“It was a successful Olympic Trials this past week with 241 athletes from across the country qualifying for Team USA in the upcoming Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea. Team USA will be competing in 15 sports, with many returning to the stage—including two time gold-medalist in the Men’s halfpipe, Shaun White, and 2010 Olympic champion of the women’s downhill in skiing, Lindsey Vonn. The women’s hockey team is looking to return to glory after not having won the gold since Nagano in 1998–the team claiming either silver or bronze in the past Games. There’s been a lot of excitement among supporters for returning Olympian Y/n L/n, who will be competing in the women’s halfpipe once again—L/n was the 2014 silver medalist in the event and became the talk of the trials when she completed back-to-back 1080s in her first run of the final competition, securing her place on Team USA with a massive score of 95.00. L/n has stated she will be attempting the 1080 duo at these Games. If she can pull out a score like she did at the trials of even higher, we could be looking at a new Queen of the Halfpipe.”

For the Games in Pyeongchang, each competitor would do two runs in qualifications and those who make it to the final will get three chances to produce a big score. It was smooth sailing to the finals for Y/n. Both runs received a score of 90.00, making her the top qualifier and securing one of twelve spots in the final.

February 13, 2018 was the best day of Y/n’s life.

It was a beautiful morning in South Korea. Sun beaming down with clear skies making the snow sparkle. Y/n was the last contestant in each rotation, spending the time in between her runs to keep her mind at ease. The playlist she made was blasting through the headphones she wore, a mix of genres that included artists like AC/DC, One Direction, and Beyoncé. Sometimes the cameramen would catch a glimpse of her dancing while mouthing the words to the songs, making viewers at home and the NBC commentators chuckle. Throughout the competition people were tweeting about the athlete:

@ sassycassie: @Y/nlikesthesnow is such a mood at the @Olympics. I wonder what’s on her playlist.

@TeamUSA✔️: we’re all jamming with @Y/nlikesthesnow.

@Marvelicious: Petition for the @Olympics to include music in the halfpipe from here on out.

When it came time for her run, Y/n rolled her neck, said a mental prayer, and dropped in once she was given the green light. Her heart was racing by the time she finished her first run, which did not get a good score due to falling on her second 1080. A rocky start to her competition, the number came back a 41.00.

Quickly the athlete brushed it off. “There’s still two more,” she told herself, approaching her coach who voiced the same thing. Two more chances to score big. All she needed to do was land the 1080s and get high altitude on her 720 and backside 900. Once that happened the gold medal was practically hers.

And she did just that.

On her second run, Y/n delivered what everyone was on the edge of their seats for. She screamed in victory going into her 720 because she had landed the second 1080 perfectly. Letting the remainder of the slopes guide her, Y/n finished her run with a beautiful 900 and shot her arms into the air, the people in the audience cheering. When she crossed the line she fell to her knees, board still attached to her feet and let out a cry of joy.

“Wow, wow, wow! That was absolutely incredible! She completed the back-to-back 1080s—I know we already saw it in the qualifications, but seeing it today was even better—and that 900 was massive, she could’ve thrown in a third! Look at Y/n, she’s taking it all in—the fans are going crazy, Team USA are already celebrating. And we still have one more run left! Remember the judges drop the highest and lowest scores and it looks like it’s gonna be……A 98.75!!! THAT IS HUGE—THE HIGHEST WE’VE SEEN YET!!”

Y/n was doing her best not to cry when her coach and parents hauled her into a group hug. There was still one more run to do, but it would be her victory lap no doubt. No way would anyone be able to touch her score.

Smiling the entire time, Y/n was effortless in her final attempt. One couldn’t even call it an attempt when she was already the gold medalist. The remaining competitors had already gone, none close to the number she produced in the second run. Tears finally flowed when she finished her 900, coming to the end of the slope and unclamping her board before dropping to the snow. The sound of the cheers was so loud she could feel the vibration.

Cameramen surrounded the athlete. Feeling giddy she made a snow angel, laughing the entire time.

When the score came back a 93.50, Y/n was officially named the Olympic champion of the women’s halfpipe. She wasn’t the only member from Team USA on the podium, Arielle Gold claimed the bronze, pushing out 2002 Gold Medalist Kelly Clark by nearly two full points. Liu Jiayu was the silver medalist.

At the podium ceremony Y/n felt like she was in a dream. Even when the announcer said, “Gold medalist and Olympic Champion, from the United States of America, Y/n L/n!!” With the medal placed around her neck and the sound of the national anthem echoing for all ears to hear, Y/n thought she’d wake up in her bed and it would have all been a dream.

But it was far from a dream. The press conference assured that. Reporters and journalists from sports magazines and media swarmed the place, Y/n more nervous about answering their questions than performing tricks in the air that were life threatening if landed wrong. Several questions were to be expected:

“Y/n, how are you feeling after your big win today?”

“Can you tell us anything about your plans when these Games come to an end?”

“Is it true you and actor Dylan O’Brien have been getting rather close?”

“Y/n, are you going to train for Beijing in four years?”

Exhausted and in need of food, Y/n kept her answers simple and minimum. “I feel like I could run a marathon—but mostly I could use some snacks. Oh thank you so much—,” A volunteer brought over an apple they had, and a reporter gave some crackers. “I feel even better now, thank you.”

“Well for one I’m gonna sleep at least a whole week,” chuckles rang out. “Then I’m gonna go see Black Panther since it comes out in three days—anybody gonna go see it? The trailer looked amazing.”

At the question of Dylan O’Brien, Y/n refrained from making a face, “Dylan is a good friend of mine—we met at the 2015 ESPY’s and he’s been to my family’s resort. Not to mention I was a fan of Teen Wolf when it was running. There’s nothing more going on, he’s a great buddy of mine and that’s all.” Internally groaning, Y/n could already picture the internet reacting to her answer. No doubt would they start shipping the two. Dylan would likely get a kick out of it, but like she said they were just good friends.

Responding on the topic of Beijing, Y/n said, “I’m very lucky to call myself a two-time Olympian and would love to continue my Olympic career so yes, I do plan to train for the next Games.”

The rest of 2018 was memorable for Y/n. She was invited to award shows and movie premieres, including Avengers: Infinity War, The Maze Runner: The Death Cure (which only fueled more speculation about her and Dylan) and Spider-Man: Into The SpiderVerse. She even filmed a cameo in the upcoming remake of Charlie’s Angels with fellow athletes Aly Raisman, Rhonda Rousey, and Danica Patrick. At the 2018 ESPY’s, Y/n was nominated for four awards: Best Olympic Moment, Best Female Olympian, Best Female Athlete and Best Female Action Sports Athlete. She took the latter three, in disbelief each time her name was called.

Her personality drew people in and many young girls were interested in snowboarding because of her. Within weeks she accumulated 500 thousand followers on instagram. People begged her to start a YouTube channel, wanting to follow the journey as she trains for Beijing.

“Hello friends of the interweb,” she waved to the lens of her camera. “You’ve been shouting from the rooftops and I’ve heard you loud and clear. Today is my first attempt at…vlogging? Is that what you call it?” Shrugging, she starts to walk down the hallway of her home. At age 26, Y/n moved out of her parents home shortly after her first Olympics—-having went pro—and bought a cabin on the resort so she could remain close with her family and coach. Plus it was where she trained—a nice little plaque on the entrance of the resort reading, “Home of Olympic Champion Y/n L/n.”

Fans loved seeing a more in-depth look at the Olympian. Y/n would do Q&As, give snowboarding 101 lessons, collaborate with Olympians from other sports she grew to become close friends with, and do daily vlogs of training.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled at the camera from where she was sitting, a pale pink background behind her. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed where I’m gonna be answering some questions while playing with puppies.” Clapping her hands excitedly, she grinned, “Let’s do this!”

“Was Snowboarding always your first choice when it came to sports?”

“Yes it was,” there was a tiny bulldog in her lap, drifting off to sleep while an excited lab pup was trying to chew at Y/n’s shoes. “When your family owns a ski resort in the mountains of Colorado, usually snowboarding or skiing is going to be the first sport you’re introduced to. In my case it was just like that and while my parents were more for skiing, I loved snowboarding because it was like surfing….but on snow.”

“Where would you be if you weren’t a professional athlete?”

“You know I haven’t really thought about this,” she makes a face that reads, ‘is that bad?’. “I’ve always loved animals so….probably a vet or a career that involved animals. Since I’ve started my YouTube channel I’ve grown to love creating videos and editing them—that whole process. I would not go as far as to say I’d be an Internet personality but I would maybe use those skills to go into film work. But in all honesty, I’d probably be running the resort with my parents. It’s the family business after all.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“I do,” flashing her forearm, the Olympic Rings inked her skin with tiny lettering that read, Sochi and Pyeongchang. “I got the rings shortly after returning from Sochi—already set on where it was going to go. The names were done after Pyeongchang. I have other tattoos on my legs and back, but this one is my favorite because it represents the dream I achieved.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Ooh we’re getting to the hard questions now,” she laughed, grabbing a puppy that was tugging on her sleeve to hold. “Ummm…..not really. While I’ve been in relationships I don’t think any has made me feel what love is supposed to be like. It’s probably why they didn’t work out,” again she makes a face. “I had a genuine care for them, but there’s a certain way people describe being ‘in love.’ And from what I’ve heard, none of my experiences would be like that. I hope that doesn't make me sound heartless,” Y/n shrugs, not embarrassed at all by being honest. “I got too much going on right now to be worrying about love though. When the time comes, it will.”

Well she was right on that. However she wasn’t expecting it to be sooner than what she thought.

Around December of 2019, Y/n had returned to Colorado after being in New York for a couple weeks for a friend’s wedding. Since becoming a bigger name in the world of snowboarding and in popular culture, the resort got more attraction throughout the year where bookings were full. During this time Y/n would help run things to get some stress from her parents. She’d train early mornings and late at night, leaving the middle of the day to assist in any way she could. Regulars who’d been coming before she was an Olympian would treat her the same, whereas tourists coming for the first time were usually starstruck.

Y/n loved interacting with supporters. Every smile she received and autograph she sighed was met with love. Kids would ask questions, the Olympian kneeling to their level to answer with full transparency. Adults would shake her hand and say they can’t wait to hopefully see her in Beijing. Those moments are what motivated Y/n to do her best with each session.

“Y/n, could you come here for a second?” her mother called out one night after Y/n finished her final run for the day. She’d just entered the lobby to say hi to her parents before heading back home when she spotted them with a group of people. One of whom looked very familiar.

Removing her scarf from face and pulling the hood down, Y/n was met with several pairs of eyes that immediately went wide. She could imagine why, considering there was a huge photo of her with the gold medal framed on the wall dedicated to the gallery of famous visitors the resort had.

Moving closer, she noticed that the group consisted of about eight people, seven of which were guys and one lady. The older gentleman who appeared to be roughly her father’s age was beaming at her. Quickly he was introduced by her mother.

“Y/n, I don’t if you remember since it’s been so long, but this is Pete Mitchell. He and your dad go way back and he’s visited a few times since we took over this place.”

Now the face brought memories with the mention of his name. Grinning, Y/n shook the hand that was extended to her, “Yeah, I remember. Maverick, right?”

“That’s right,” he smiled. “Wow, it’s great to see you again. Congrats on everything you’ve accomplished, Y/n. I’ve been watching you compete since your first trials.”

“Thank you,” she tries not to look flustered. “Sorry for looking so busted—I just finished a run and was not expecting a reunion so soon.” The words have the older adults chuckling. Glancing behind Pete’s shoulder, Y/n nodded to his companions, which had the pilot scurry to introduce them.

Pointing to each person, he lists off, “these are my lieutenants and members of my Top Gun striker team. Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha Trace, Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, and Jake Seresin.”

As he calls their names they each go to shake Y/n’s hand, saying, “nice to meet you.” When she gets to the last person, Jake, Y/n feels a light spark as their skin touches, making both of them flinch.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the tinge of a southern accent nearly makes her knees go weak, a dazzling smile to compliment the pilot.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she returns before moving back to stand beside her parents. “Thank you all for your service. What brings you to Aspen?”

“Well we’ve seen enough of the beach and ocean—now that we’re all stationed in Miramar—and thought we’d like a scene change,” Pete explained, gesturing to her parents. “I called your folks up after our assignment to book us a getaway since these guys were in need of a break. We’re here for the weekend to hit the slopes—and teach some of them how to ski.”

“Fun,” she hums, glancing to see some nervous eyes among Bob, Javy, Mickey, and Jake. When she caught Jake’s gaze he smiled at her, making her look away before she blushed. “Who all knows how to ski?”

“Reuben, Nat, and I do,” Rooster answered, “this is the first time those clowns are seeing snow.”

“I’ll have you know, Bradshaw,” Jake lifts a hand, giving a mocking glare. “I have seen snow, but seeing as I am a Texas man we don’t get it down there.”

“I get snow where I’m from,” Bob interjects, blushing a bit, “But I was the type to stay indoors when it did. I’ve never skied though.”

“Well there is a first for everything,” Y/n beams, “and once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty easy. Although I’m probably not the best judge…..since I pretty much live on the snow.”

“I personally wanna try snowboarding,” Nat admits, smiling when Y/n gives her a thumbs up and mouths, “good choice.”

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Mickey says and the two high five.

“Maybe Y/n can give you some pointers” Y/n’s dad suggested, glancing at her with a tilt of the head. “She’d be the best teacher here.” The Olympian smiles, offering a light shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Mickey and Nat nearly turned into school children right there, but where Nat was calm on the exterior, Mickey was unleashing his inner fanboy.

“If it’s not out of your way—.”

“Oh my God, to be trained by an Olympic gold medalist? Life goal complete.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at the man, “That settles it then. I hope to see you on the slopes first thing tomorrow morning. How does ten sound?”

“Shit that means we get to sleep in,” Reuben said in relief, the others making the same expression. At Y/n’s confusion he adds, “we normally all get up at four in the morning. Ten o’clock is a dream.”

“I know what you mean—I get up at five for training. So I would definitely want you all to get a good night’s rest. Hours on the slopes will have you running to your bed,” checking her watch, Y/n lets out a yawn, chuckling when she finishes. “Speaking of running to bed, I am beat if you haven’t noticed.” She goes to shake their hand once more, “It was so nice meeting you all and I look forward to tomorrow. Pete, it was great seeing you again.”

Saying goodbye to the group and her parents, Y/n waves one last time and heads to the door. The entire short drive to her home, her mind wanders to Jake. A warm feeling she couldn’t describe boiled in her chest, not sure if it was a little crush or just that she was attracted to him. With his green eyes, sun kissed skin, blonde hair, and dazzling smile, the man was a looker. She definitely could see him being a charmer, maybe even a playboy.

She didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Compared to her snowboarding career, relationships were something Y/n didn’t have the best record with. Yeah she dated, shared a kiss or two with someone she was interested in, but she never saw someone more than five to six months. It wasn’t easy to balance time and energy for a partner. Snowboarding was her life and she permanently lived in Colorado. She stopped dating people in Aspen because they usually were driven by what Y/n could bring them. Relationships with fellow athletes were more difficult since they were dedicated to their sport just like she was to hers. The one time she did get involved with an athlete lasted less than two weeks.

Then you had the people in Hollywood. Since winning the silver in 2014, Y/n made plenty of friends in the film and movie industry. Anytime she was pictured with someone it sparked rumors. Even when they were with a group of friends it didn’t stop the gossip. Y/n did, however, get involved with an actor that was a friend of Dylan O’Brien. He introduced them at the 2017 Teen Choice Awards where they hit it off. It only lasted five months but it was enough to get the internet buzzing with excitement.

Since then Y/n hadn’t been serious with someone, focusing solely on training for the Beijing Olympics. As the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe Y/n was determined to defend her title. There wouldn’t be any time for romance.

But that weekend left Y/n with a newfound feeling. One she wanted to keep the more she got to know Jake. Each night he was at the resort they’d meet at the lounge to have a drink, sometimes with a group, or by themselves. They’d catch each other in the mornings to get coffee, Y/n feeling the giddiness rise each time with every conversation. The boys caught on quickly what was happening, going as far to joke with Y/n about his history with women.

Her confidence dropped a bit, but Jake shut it down instantly, “I haven’t been with anyone in about a year. And I wouldn’t want something with you to be one and done, Y/n. I want to get to know you better and see where this goes.”

“Jake, how would this even work?” The two were sitting on one of the lounge couches the night before he was set to return to California. It was a good point to bring up. With him being in San Diego and her in Aspen, it would be difficult. “I like you and have enjoyed our time this weekend—a-and I’d love to see where this goes….but being with me isn’t easy.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, oblivious to her concern.

She gives him a knowing look, “Well first there’s the distance like I mentioned. But also I’m in a career where I prioritize that more than anything. I have to go out of the country for competitions several times a year,” her hand makes a motion to show emphasis. “This is where I train—and I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. My goal is to make it to the Olympics again.”

Jake is quiet for a moment. It worries Y/n, thinking that he was going to get up and leave without another word. But then he gently places a hand on top of hers that was resting on her lap, “I admire and respect you for being honest with me. Not many people are like that—hell, Lord knows I wasn’t five years ago. But even though it may be difficult, I don’t want to avoid it just because of the ‘what if’s’. So it doesn’t work out, that’s okay, but I’d like to at least try.”

Biting her lip, she looks at their hands, “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he smiles, “plus it gives me a reason to continue coming out here. I think I’ve fallen in love with this place,” glancing around the building, his smile gets bigger at the sight of the sun setting making the mountains look beautiful from where they were. “Being from Texas, we don’t get this type of scenery. I thought I wouldn’t like the snow but it seems to have grown on me in the few short days.”

“Well, Lieutenant, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you roll with me.”

“I think I can adapt well, darling.”

When the squad left the next morning, a little piece of Yn’s heart left with Jake. She didn’t believe in love at first sight but there was no denying the feelings swarming like butterflies each time they were together. FaceTimes became their thing. Usually a couple times a week with casual texting since both had busy lives. Jake then flew out a couple weeks later to spend New Year’s with Y/n, the two sharing their first kiss that sparked like the fireworks in the sky.

Y/n traveled to San Diego in February with Jake returning to Aspen in March. What was supposed to just be a weekend turned out to be Jake having to stay for nearly three months due to the world shutting down. The pandemic was something no one could’ve predicted. Both Y/n and Jake had to scramble to figure out what to do, her parents offering him a cabin to reside in since they had to close down the resort. The competitions Y/n was set to compete in were canceled, Jake having to work remotely with meetings through zoom. There was no indication if he’d have to return to San Diego and frankly he didn’t know how he would since airlines were shut down.

It was a blessing in disguise, however, because it brought the two closer. Jake and Y/n were able to do things together despite being confined to the resort. Since it was only them, her parents, and her coach on the premises, Y/n was able to still train and even taught Jake how to snowboard downhill. He told her about his career and what it was like being in the air competing against the speed of sound.

“It’s an adrenaline rush most of the time,” He explained one night as they laid by the fire, a random movie on the Tv mounted above the mantle. “You can probably relate when you do your runs. Not being able to really think and just let your body take over. Feeling a high that’s indescribable and praying it will end how you think it will.”

In the mornings Y/n would drop off breakfast and coffee to his cabin on her way to training. After his meetings he’d bring her lunch or dinner since she was practicing most hours in the day. The 2020 season was canceled, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t prepare for 2021. Athletes training for the Summer Olympics would have to wait a whole year, meanwhile the plans for the Winter Olympics in 2022 remained. Speculations already arose that by the next spring things would slowly go back to normal with the implementation of a vaccine. Jake returned to San Diego as soon as the green light was lit, mostly because the Navy was ordering him to. Airlines only allowed certain people to fly with regulations set to accommodate social distancing. It was a bittersweet goodbye for the couple, Jake promising to return as soon as he could.

Their relationship continued to be long distance for a long time. San Diego locked down several times preventing either from traveling to see each other. Y/n kept busy by training from sunrise to sunset, Jake running missions the Pentagon tasks the Dagger squad with and the two FaceTimed consistently. Luckily by spring of 2021 things did in fact calm down. A vaccine was introduced, both wasting no time to receive it, and making plans for Y/n to fly out to San Diego.

When she landed she was met with the clear skies and warm rays of the sun, catapulting into Jake’s awaiting arms after exiting the terminal. “I missed you so much!” She giggled as he spun her around.

“I missed you more, darling.”

Everyone welcomed her with smiles, the pilots excited to see Y/n again after so long. They took her to The Hard Deck to celebrate her and Jake’s one year anniversary and for her qualification in the 2021 Winter X Games.

“Excited to get back in the pipe, Y/n/n?” Reuben asked her.

“You bet your ass I am,” she clicks her beer glass with his. “Can’t wait for the world to see what I’ve been practicing.”

The squad cheered on Y/n from Fightertown during the Winter X Games, watching her claim the gold of the women’s Superpipe for the sixth time. Jake was the loudest, his reaction to her win captured by Rooster, “That’s my girl!!”

Flash forward to January 2022. The team rang the year in, Y/n joining festivities where she and Jake celebrated their third New Year’s before they all traveled North to Mammoth to watch Y/n compete in the Mammoth Grand Prix. The first completion of the year, it would be where the Beijing Olympic Team members were named.

By the end of the competition, Y/n was going to have to set an appointment with her tattoo artist to add Beijing to the list of Games.

“YEAHH!!!” The scream released, arms shot into the air as her name shot to the top of the leaderboard following her second run, the score a 96.00. On the ground Jake, her coach, parents, and friends were losing their minds. Rightfully so, they just witnessed Y/n make her third Olympic team.

“And there you have it folks, the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe is heading to Beijing in her third Olympic appearance. Y/n L/n has shown greatness this whole weekend, proving herself as one of the best in the sport. There’s been so much improvement in her form—the Winter X Games this past year was the last time we’d seen her since the pandemic shut everything down, but that didn’t stop Y/n from getting ready for Beijing. She is unstoppable. It'll be an exciting Games next month, not just for the women’s competition—Shaun White will return to the stage for the fifth time in an attempt to defend his gold model.”

A celebratory party was in store for the Olympian. Champagne was popped and music blasting in the restaurant the members of Team USA rented together. All their friends and family were there having a grand time. Y/n and Shaun got pictures together, the internet calling them the king and queen of the halfpipe. Pretty much all of the dagger squad, minus Jake of course, were chatting up with the Olympians—Bob received a thumbs up from Y/n when she spotted him talking with Mikayla Shiffrin.

Halfway through the night, Jake pulled her aside, “How you feeling?”

“Good,” she breathed, still coming down from the high of excitement. “Excited, nervous, internally dreading the long flight but overall I’m happy.”

“I’m happy for you, darling,” he kissed her head, “You deserve this. After watching you bust your tail these past two years, I can’t describe how proud I am of you.”

Y/n felt a wave of love course threw her, kissing him softly as a thanks. When they pulled away Jake asked what was next to which she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Well…I hear Italy is hosting in four years.” She made a sound of ‘Ahh,’

“That’s what you mean.”

Jake quickly explains, “I just wanted to know if that’s in your sights. You’re gonna get asked plenty next month, so see it as me wanting to be the first to know……and because I’m already planning on being there if you do.” Unfortunately due to covid restrictions, Jake and her family are unable to attend the Games in person. Only her coach was allowed to travel with Y/n, meaning everyone else would have to cheer from home.

Italy wasn’t even on Y/n’s mind. After a career of over fifteen years and having celebrated her 30th birthday, the next chapter was something she thought about often. Jake was her longest relationship, the two at two years and Y/n fell more and more in love with him each day. While the long distance was going well, it would only be a matter of time before one of them would want to settle. Marriage. Children.

Going for a fourth Games was possible—look at Shaun. Beijing was his fifth Games, and Kelly Clark competed in five.

“Confident you’ll be around by then? 2026 is a long way from here,” teasing at first, Y/n felt her heart skip by the look she received. It was one of love, determination, and admiration.

“I’m confident in a lot of things, Y/n. And when it comes to us,” two fingertips come up to hold her chin steady, green eyes boring into hers. “I see a cabin with a front porch and gorgeous sunrise over the mountains as we drink coffee and reminisce over our glory days before the little ones left the nest. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

February 2026–Livigno, Italy: Final of the Women’s Halfpipe in the XXV Olympic Winter Games.

“So one last run, huh?” Jake squeezes Y/n’s hand, easing her nerves as she feels the metal of his wedding band on her skin. She had yet to put her gloves on, waiting for someone to escort her to the top of the slope.

“One last one,” her tone was laced with sadness, not doing much to mask her anxiety. She was one run away from winning a third conservative gold medal. Beijing was already four years ago, Y/n adding a second gold to her collection to retain her title as queen of the halfpipe. She was met with international recognition following the Games. Her performance in Beijing resulted in the first 100.00 scored in the Olympics.

On the cover of Sports Illustrated and winning big at the 2022 ESPY’s, Y/n was on top of the world. Appearances on James Corden and The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon Y/n not only showcased her gold medal, but a diamond ring on her finger where she told the world her love story with Jake.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she waved at the camera, a MacBook in front of her and trying not to laugh at where Jake was sitting in his own chair beside the producer of GQ, videoing her with his phone. “Two-time Olympic gold medalist in the women’s halfpipe and I’m here with GQ, about to go undercover on the internet.” Opening the laptop, she shakes her head with a nervous grin. “This is gonna be interesting.”

Ironically enough, she chose the username Y/ndoesntlikethesnow. “I’m sorta scared at what Twitter and Reddit will bring. Just because….,” she makes a face, “I go on the bird app religiously so I know what that’s like, but also I’ve heard horror stories about Reddit.”

“I wanna know how @Y/nlikesthesnow managed to get up after planting face first in the snow at her first Olympic trials. On live television. If that was me I would’ve retired right then and there.”

The laugh that escaped Y/n was equivalent to a wheeze, sending Jake into his own laughter. Calming down, Y/n had to wipe her eye, “oh my goodness what a great start. Okay,” her fingers hovered over the keys, typing away with each word she spoke. “Thank you for bringing this memory up—it was truly a defining moment in my career I would say. Not only did it humble me, but had it not happened I probably wouldn’t have busted my butt as much as I did to get to Sochi. So it’s kinda sentimental now….though I do die inside each time someone tags me when they use the gif.”

Clicking send, Y/n clapped, “next!”

“Does Y/n L/n and her fiancé know they basically lived in a Hallmark movie? Guy comes to a small town and meets a local girl who’s family runs a ski resort and they fall in love in just a few short weeks. I think about that a lot.”

Both Y/n and Jake make a snort, “Jake is here with me now,” she points to though he can’t be seen. “We both love this question. And to answer it, you know it never crossed our mind that this was happening, but if Hallmark would like some inspiration for their next movie we’d be happy to give some.”

The wedding took place in fall of 2023. Shortly after Y/n made the decision to move to San Diego to be with Jake, finding an indoor halfpipe training facility to train in. She continued to dominate the 2023-2025 seasons. By the time she made her fourth Olympic team, Y/n became the most decorated female snowboarder in Winter X Games history and won the Mammoth Grand Prix for the sixth consecutive time.

Now in Italy for her final Olympic appearance, the pressure was on.

Currently Y/n was in last position, shocking many as she had multiple errors in her first two after being the number one qualifier. Eight years ago in Pyeongchang, her friend and former teammate Shaun White stunned the world when he went from the bottom to the top of the leaderboard in the final rotation of the men’s final, claiming his third gold medal.

People were itching to know if the same would happen to Y/n. Commentators and twitter alike saying it was deja vu happening.

Only Jake, the squad, her coach and family were the ones to know she would be retiring. Her last run marking the end of an era in snowboarding. With her first two a disaster, Y/n wanted to end on a high note.

“Better make it count,” Jake told her, cupping her face in his hands to stare deeply into her eyes. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about i-t-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do.” Kissing her forehead, he adds, “That gold medal is calling your name.”

Confidence filled her, Y/n lifting her chin high to show her determination. “I better go claim it then.”

Jake mirrored her grin, winking just as the volunteer was calling her name. “We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.” Giving one last kiss of support, Jake says goodbye to his wife, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she returns and he watches her leave before heading to the area where the others were waiting for him.

“How is she?” Javy asks him, adjusting the lapels of his coat. It was a cold but beautiful day in Italy. Perfect for snowboarding.

“I can tell she’s worried,” Jake takes out his binoculars, setting up to see Y/n take her place. “But she’ll pull through. She always does.”

“Welcome back to our coverage of the women’s halfpipe final here in Livigno, Italy. Y/n L/n, the defending two-time gold medalist is about to take her final run in this competition.” The title card appeared on the screen for viewers watching at home, reading: “Y/n L/n-Seresin—Gold Medalist: 2018 & 2022, Silver Medalist: 2014–Hometown: Aspen, Colorado, USA.

“It’s been a rocky day for L/n—failing to produce a big score on her first two attempts: 39.00 in the first and 49.00. She’s got one more chance to beat the 92.25 and is currently in last position. If you can think back to 2018 Shaun White was in the same position, managing to come back in his final run to take the gold. In just a few moments we shall see if Y/n can do the same.”

It’s said that your heart beats on average 60 to 100 beats per minute. That’s a normal heart rate. Throw in emotions such as anxiety and you’ll find it increasing. If a doctor were to place a stethoscope over Y/n’s chest as she secured the clasps of her snowboard, pulling the goggles over her eyes, they’d find the number of her bpm to be at least 110 maybe even 120.

“Don’t think,” Jake’s voice echoed in her head, bringing a sense of calmness. “Just do.”

“Don’t think,” she repeated under her breath. “Just do.” Maneuvering her board once she was giving the go, Y/n starts her decline into the halfpipe, dropping in one last time. Unlike her previous runs where she focused too hard that led to the mistakes, Y/n moved effortlessly like the board was in control. Back-to-back 1080s, her signature move. Getting high in the air she spun. Backside 900 and frontside 700. Opening at the right moment to hit the snow correctly and set up for the next trick. Showing off her talent as one of the greatest athletes of her generation.

Thinking back to her first time her feet touched a board, Y/n felt the nostalgia in her veins. It was comforting, masking the nerves it soon replaced. She was in her element. Picturing the mountains of Aspen and the snow she grew up on.

She could hear the crowd getting louder with each move. It fueled her, pushing the Olympian to get higher in the air, spin faster, and land perfectly. When she came down on her 1260, a difficult move usually seen in the men’s competition, Y/n felt her heart stop as she hit the snow.

It was a golden finish.

A roar ignited from the crowd, Y/n’s hands flying to her mouth, making her final descent down the pipe across the line and falling to her knees like she did back in 2018. It was so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, audibly shouting, “Oh my God!” Desperately searching for her husband, she found Jake jumping up and down with the squad, screaming like their lives depended on it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, Y/n throwing off her goggles and unclamping her board from her feet to run towards them. The fucking aviator broke the rules and hauled is ass over the barrier to meet her in the middle, catching Y/n when she jumped into his arms. “You fucking did it!!! You did it!!”

Suddenly their little hug was interrupted by her coach, parents, the squad and members of Team USA joining in. The score hadn’t even come in, but it didn’t matter. Y/n just pulled the comeback of the decade. Going from the bottom to the top in the blink of the eye.

“All eyes on Y/n—here she goes dropping in. Good start on the grip to gain momentum as she sets up her first trick. Here’s her signature move as we’ve seen time and time again…two 1080s often called ‘the cork’ and she’s had trouble all day with this—well no problems right there that was beautiful. Now with the backside 900….looking good—if she maintains this then the gold medal is hers. It’s gonna be that last trick, the McTwist, that could make or break this run…..no problems on that frontside 700. All there’s left is the 1260–very difficult we don’t see it in women’s halfpipe but Y/n is determined to land it—can she do it for the gold medal…..AND SHE’S GOT IT!! She landed it—oh my goodness that was incredible! That’s gotta be enough—there’s no doubt in my mind, Y/n L/n has just won her third consecutive gold in the women’s halfpipe after being in last place for two rotations—putting on a show stopping performance in the final run.”

“She knows it too. Members of Team USA and Y/n’s support team including her coach and husband are celebrating with her. She needs higher than a 92.25 to take the lead—will it be enough? It has to be…..A 99.75 SHE’S DONE IT! A QUARTER OF A POINT AWAY FROM PERFECTION, Y/N L/N HAS WON HER THIRD GOLD MEDAL IN THE WOMEN’S HALFPIPE HERE IN ITALY. THE QUEEN OF THE HALFPIPE REMAINS ON THE THRONE.”

Y/n’s lifted onto Jake’s shoulders when the score comes into the uproar of cheers around her. American flags wave in her face, a sea of red, white, and blue against the glistening snow. It was a scene she would remember in the years to come following her retirement from snowboarding.

The Olympic Rings staring back at her along with the American Flag rising to the sound of the national anthem. Gold around her neck, the heaviness leaving a lasting mark as it would be the last time she would be crowned the Olympic champion. Jake clapping with tears streaming down his face as she waved to him in the crowd. Her parents crying with him, the guys and Nat are whistling and jumping up and down. Pete in a side embrace with her coach and former teammates beaming like they were witnessing history.

In fact it was history. Y/n became the first woman to win the gold in three consecutive Olympic Games. From a little girl with a love of snowboarding who missed out in her first trials. To become a silver medalist and most decorated Winter X Games title holder. To a three-time Olympic champion.

She truly was the queen of the halfpipe.

………….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black

[isa-ghost]

*places down some money*

Phil headcannons please

*eats the coins whole*

Other qPhil headcanons

He means it 1000% when he says he'd burn the entire island to the ground for the kids. No building would be safe. Not even his own. All bets would be off. And if one of the other parents would do the same for their kid? He'd be right there with them.

He loves every egg, dead and alive alike. He has no clue what any of them think of him, and tbh he'd probably be overly humble or vaguely negative abt it bc he's just so shitty to himself when it comes to image related things, thinking they probably find him weird or smth. But he loves them all, and even if any of the eggs DO have a negative opinion of him, he'd still shed blood sweat and tears for them.

GUYS PLEASE THIS IS CANON BUT he is SO BAD at picking up on certain things if not explicitly told. If you have an issue with bird man you have to TELL HIM. He has a million other things on his mind and he has survival brain on by default which means several other things are taking up brainspace, he doesn't have the means to be looking for subtle signs someone isn't happy with him. FUCKING COMMUNICATE WITH HIM!!

Idk I just think Fit, Pac & Mike should convince him to get high with them. But I can't tell if I want to say he'd actually chill out for once & get a lil goofy or if he'd be the type that gets super anxious & hates every second he's stoned

Has a manga collection. It's not that big series-wise, he's a completionist so his collection is big bc he collects every volume of a series he's interested in. He has all of Bleach ofc, most of Chainsaw Man, probably 1-3 other series. He's preoccupied with other things usually so he hasn't read any of them in ages, but Chayanne has been going WILD reading them when he's not out and about

He gets sluttier when he's drunk. That confidence boost he gets when he's drunk enough goes places. Particularly when he's around Fit (Fit's a bad influence /pos)

Tbh? If his usual civil disobedience and the like don't work, I would not put it past him to follow Cellbit's example and just start killing Feds. I don't know how canon Phil's past is but if this is the man who helped create the Antarctic Empire or the man that leveled an entire country? Quesadilla Island's days are numbered and it will be Specifically to spite Cucurucho and any other Fed that's responsible for whatever Phil has an issue with. All it takes is taking his kids away again or hurting his friends :)

Fr tho if/when he finds out what they did to Jaiden or Baghera or anyone of the other islanders? He WILL be unleashing hell for them.

He's ready at all times to die for someone. The goal is to Not die, but if it comes to it, better him than them. And in classic hypocritical Phil fashion, he vehemently refuses to allow anyone to do the same for him. The survivor's guilt would be too much for him.

Outwardly, he processes grief and stress with humor. Because if he doesn't, he'll shut down emotionally and mentally. But don't think for a second that internally, he's a wreck. He's angry, he's in pain, he's stressed, he's conflicted, he's grieving. He just won't let anyone know he is. He doesn't like admitting it.

That said, GOD do hugs and random acts of kindness during tough/dark times get him. It's a hit straight to the heart. He'll get emotional before he can stop it or mask it. They mean more than anything, and they're the quickest way to make him realize just how much shit he's shouldering and bottling up.

Currently his greatest fear is the Federation finding out about or asking him questions related to Ender King. Normally he'd at least prepare how to answer such questions. In this case he has no clue what to say, which really stresses him out. And he knows fleeing the conversation wouldn't go well.

He doesn't typically do anything special with his hair but goddamn it looks good in a short braid. He only ever does smth with his hair for certain events, like Festa Junina. And that was mostly because Lullah insisted.

If the Federation one day declared every islander needed some kinda career for whatever weird reason, Phil's would be photography.

Don't listen to his complaining. He REALLY likes that there's so many birds around the house. Prefers them outside but he likes them around regardless.

[violetlunette]

“Dada! Dada!” Lilia looked up as a little boy with Silver hair and precious aurora eyes ran towards him, a soft smile on his face. Lilia returned a smile, just as gentle, looking as if he was about to cry. 

“Silver.” He knelt down and allowed the boy to run into his arms. Silver giggled into his ear, his laughter sounding like bells to Lilia.

“I love you, Daddy,” he said quietly. Lilia’s smile grew as he pulled the boy tighter to him.

“Me too, Silver.” Lilia was so happy at that moment, content with his life and everything.

But then--

“Then why did you abandon me?” 

The words were like a cold dagger that stabbed into Lilia’s heart. Silver pulled away, eyes full of hurt, sorrow, and betrayal. Lilia’s body quaked under such a look, the emotions inside him too much for his form.

“I—I didn’t! Silver I would never--” he began, reaching out to him, his own eyes pleading.

“Then why did you let them take me?” Lilia stopped as all air vanished from his lungs. Tears stung at his ruby eyes, the color all but gone from his skin.

“I--I had no choice!” he explained as Silver continued to watch him with an accusatory glare. “You would have died if I didn’t let you go! I—I had to save you!” Silver shook his head, tears falling from his eyes as he cried,

“It never should have gotten to that point!” Lilia flinched back. His voice vanished as Silver continued, his body trembling. “You were Briar Valley’s greatest war General for years. I never should have gotten hurt in the first place. You should have protected me.” Lilia fell back as if he had been hit.

“I—I’m sorry, Silver. I’m sorry!” he whispered. Lilia reached out again to cup the child’s face, to wipe away his tears like he always did. “I’ll find you! I swear, I’ll find you!” Before Lilia could touch him, Silver looked at him with hopeless eyes. Then quietly, he said,

“We both know that’s a lie, father.” As he said this, a dark shadow appeared behind Silver. It was a tall, skeletal man cloaked in robes of blood with horns of rams protruding from his head.

“Come along now, Silver…” Its voice echoed around them, sounding unworldly. “You’re MINE now.” With that, he plucked Silver from the ground like a doll with a claw-like hand that tore into the boy’s flesh. He then turned and began to walk away, dragging Lilia’s child behind him.

The father’s eyes widened in horror as his heart began to beat in panic in his chest.

“No!! Silver!” Lilia tried to rush forward to save his son and get him away from the foe, but his legs became rooted to the spot, and no matter how he pulled at them. In the end, all Lilia could do was watch as the fiend took Silver and dragged him into the shadows.

“NO!! Don’t take him! Silver! SILVER!” he hollered, throwing his hand out as if to grab them. “Please! Don’t take my son! Please! SILVER!”

--

Lilia shot away, eyes wide in fright. He took several, fast breaths before he calmed down enough to take in his surroundings. He was camping with the others in the wasteland they were trapped in. All except for Silver, who was gone.

Lilia pressed a hand to his head. His skin was covered in cold sweat and was three shades paler than usual. With a groan, he fell forward and brought his knees to his chest so he could hide his face from the world.

‘It was just a dream.’ Except it wasn’t. He abandoned his boy, and now… Everyone said they would save him. Every day, they told him so. However, Lilia couldn't believe it. They were lost with no supplies, surrounded by wild foes, and had no idea where Silver was. Not to mention, Lilia had a history of never finding people, so seeing his son again seemed to be even beyond his dreams.

Tears began to swell in Lilia’s eyes as he recalled the boy’s look of betrayal in his dream, the hopelessness in his eyes as he knew that Lilia would never find him.

A sob escaped his throat.

“I’m sorry, Silver…” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

--

I wanted to make a really quick sequel to this post.

[xob1tchs]

hiii i have a request

so its ghostface ethan x reader, but he realizes his friends (the reader, chad, even mindy) are more so family than his real family so he helps them escape his dad and sister

maybe also some smut after they escape idk💀

talk 2 me

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; ethan kills no1, fight fight fight!, stabbing, crying, kiss kiss 😘, unedited so spelling and grammar errors

a/n; title inspo :p and i hope u like this bae xx sorry it’s so short…I’m supposed to be sleeping ⚰️

You’re breathing has ceased, maybe your heart has even stopped. Maybe you are dead.

That thought becomes only a dream, something you long for right now – staring at your boyfriend as he waves the mask, and the cloak, and the knife, you’re all to familiar with; in his fists, words an echo, tear soaked face a blur. You can hear your own heartbeat, every inhale an exhale, the clicking of the clock to your left — just not what he’s confessing to. You’re blocking it, mind spinning in an unstoppable circle, thoughts ceasing to process. This can’t be.

“i-im not what you think! ive not hurt anyone, please im not like them”

Chad scoffs to your right, hand wrapped firmly around mindys wrist, who clutches onto Anika in fear “are you fucking kidding me” he protests, nose scrunching in mock disgust, but you know he’s facing the same internal conflict as you. Ethan had become his best friend, and here he was, confessing to the greatest sin.

“w-who’s them” you manage, eyes watering as you look to ethan, but you find yourself unable to maintain the stare.

ethan drops the costume and weapon to the ground, reaching round to grad his phone from his pocket when it pings, a look of fear overtaking his features as he reads over his screen “we have to leave now — they’re almost here” he sniffles, kicking the knife away, taking a weary step forward, palm extending, waiting for you to take his hand.

your throat closes up, watering eyes glancing from his hand to the faces of your friends, contemplating your choices — if his intentions are malicious, you’ll likely die even if you don’t trust him but if you do trust him and he does lead you away, well the chance of living is greater.

so one last look at Mindy, and Anika, and you’re slipping your fingers between his, motioning for them to follow when he begins to tug you away.

your hand is shaking in his grasp, and your body has become grimey, skin coated in thin layer of sweat, and dried blood from a wound that’s been covered now, you’re head is light. you don’t really know what’s happening as you weave through the halls of the old theater, shocked when you bust through an entrance you’d never seen, out into an ally of New York, but Ethan doesn’t stop his mission in leading you away from danger.

As if on cue, you round a corner, ready to be protected by the prying eyes of New York goers, only for your tracks to be halted by a ghost face — two ghost faces.

“oh shit oh shit” Anika squeals, spinning on her heel already, her and Mindy sledding back down the alley, followed closely by chad who turns around to shout for you.

Just as you and Ethan begin to make a run for it, one of the masked killers catches Ethan by the sleeve of his jacket, yanking him away from your grip, slamming him into the alley wall, prompting a shout of distress from you. Your feet move by themselves, launching forward to wrap your hands around the neck of the ghost face, knee meeting their gut. They groan, the sound distorted by the voice modifier and stumble backwards, knocking into the other ghostface.

Your fingers wrap around Ethan’s arm, tugging him up, but you’re quickly ripped away by the hair at your scalp, body hitting the hard and damp cement ground, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your vision is blurry as the ghost face swing at Ethan, knife plunging into his side, prompting a scream that has your eyes widening in horror. They quickly yank the knife out, rising it above their head, preparing to strike again, but they’re cut short when a flying brick smacks into the side of their head, knocking them flat out, their body hitting the ground with a thud.

You crawl forward on your hands and knees, rolling the unconscious body out of the way, coming to slip between Ethan’s spread legs, pressing your palm flat to his wound with a sob, your fingers are shaking when they tap against Ethan’s cheek, prompting him to open his eyes.

His blood seeps through the cracks in your fingers, and you press your other palm on top, chocking on cries as you plead to stop the bleeding “Ethan! ethan please don’t die, please please!” you cry, shaking your head, leaning forward to press your forehead to his when he groans.

“I- I’m so sorry” he mumbles, eye lids fighting to urge to droop closed, voice breathy and shaking “I promise im sorry” his words slurr, breath heavy against your lips, and you coo, shushing him, pressing a gentle peck to his mouth.

“Everything is going to be alright”

[epiclamer]

Hi! I really love your writing and I think it's awesome to read. ❤ Idk if someone else asked for this, but can you continue Parental Pressure? Of course, there's no rush.

Yeeeeeessss of course!!!

Part 1 Part 3

Parental Pressure Pt. 2

The villain had calmed down after a few more minutes of sheepish struggling. Well, not really, their heart was still racing, hands shaking, brow sweating and blood continued to soak through their sweatshirt. Every now and then Hero threw them a concerned yet stern glance and they stopped fidgeting in their seat.

Something about knowing that your greatest enemy cared about you enough to walk you to their house and car where they would then throw you into the passenger seat to try and take you somewhere safe for medical attention, made the villain uncomfortable.

This was not how they imagined their escape attempt going.

Sure, maybe they were caught by their parents, by the police or even turned in by a bus driver. But Hero? Their nemesis? They hadn’t even considered the possibility, let alone without the other dragging their ass to jail.

Unfortunately for the young criminal, they were set up for this job by their parents; and if it ended with their ass in jail, Villain was sure they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

But if they ran away? Tried to escape? Villain shivered, praying that the hero wouldn’t force them home to deal with the consequences. They weren’t nice people, they weren’t kind parents, hell they weren’t even strict or harsh.

They were cruel.

The villain had been trained from a young age to steal and to take. They were held to expectations they could never reach and every time they failed, they paid the price.

Whether it was something as bearable as a few hits, or something as terrible as being locked in their room for days. It eventually didn’t matter anymore. Villain stopped caring.

Days blended together and every strike of pain or pang of hunger was just as normal as the last. Nothing mattered anymore and it started to affect them less and less.

Villain had gotten away with the apathy for as long as two weeks, until that very night, when they had refused to harm the hero and their parents were more than happy to up the punishment for not following strict orders. Various cuts and gashes littered their chest, arms and back. Knives were different from the regular beatings and it was enough to pull them out of their unaware state and back to the present.

Back to the present where they became awake enough to realize they had to leave and they had to leave now.

And they would’ve made it. It was a flawless plan. Except they hadn’t accounted for the hero, the hero whom they now sat next to, bleeding onto their slick leather seats as they flew past darkened buildings and to the outskirts of the city.

To the heroes base.

Great.

It wasn’t jail, but it probably wasn’t any better either.

They were a villain after all, heroes and villains didn’t mix. So, Villain expected the worst.

Being strung up to ceiling by their wrists and used as a punching bag. Trained and beaten into submission everyday. Humiliated on camera to be shown across the world. With every waking thought Villain could feel their anxiety rising.

Chest heaving in shallow breaths that agitated their wounds and forced them to clench their jaw. Sweaty and shaky hands paired with a furiously bouncing knee and dry throat. Similar signs to exactly what they recognized from many fits before, a silent panic attack.

Hero’s hand landed on the villain’s shoulder ever so gently. Reeling the criminal from their dissociative state and causing them to gasp for a proper breath.

“Hey, woah woah woah… Take it easy, you’re alright…”

For now.

Gods, why wouldn’t the hero just say it. Why waste time with the reassuring pleasantries when the heroes would tear them to bits far worse than their parents.

It wasn’t even that bad, what they were going through. They were overreacting, obviously. Their parents were just fine, completely normal. They were just fine, completely normal.

Everything was just fine, completely normal.

“Villain, kid. Look at me.”

Since when had Hero gotten out of the car? Walked all the way around and opened the passenger side door? Crouched down and taken Villains hands in theirs? Since when had anything happened? They were just—

“Villain.”

Eyes snapped to Hero’s and they held their gaze, trying their best to keep from crying or passing out. It was all just too much, they were too overwhelmed.

“Hey, kid. I know a lot is going through your head right now, but I need you to listen for just a moment, alright?” The crime-stopper smiled seeing the villain’s attention stay put. This was the longest they had gotten them to focus besides their telling of their past and their parents. This was a good sign. “I’ll help you inside and we’ll get you patched up. We have guest rooms and spare pullout couches all over the place so you can pick your camp and then we’ll get some food in you.”

Hero raised their eyebrows, a silent queue for a response from the villain so they nodded silently. Happy with that engagement, Hero continued. “Might get some questions asked, but I’ll handle it. Maybe some bright lights and scary tools, but they won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Promises.

We wouldn’t have to hurt you if you just followed our orders, I promise. This is completely normal for parents to do, Villain, we promise.

Villain fucking hated promises.

“If y-you’re doing this for y-your saviour complex, I don’t want it. Neither if you’re j-just going to lie t-through your teeth like that. I’m fine.”

The hero looked puzzled at first then they just sighed and stood up from their crouched position. “We’re heroes, Villain. We protect civilians and as much as you have been told and taught that you’re the villain. You’re still a civilian under all that and I’m not going to ever let them touch you again.”

[f69f96]

Intro

I've fallen in love so deeply.

From the moment we met, you've set me on fire, I saw your eyes ripping off my senses. Couldn't even blink, hypnotized by your essence.

Your touch feels like heaven, my perversion is rising, your mouth is the greatest miracle I could ever feel, I'm too selfish to share you.

Dancing on your lap, feeling your body hit all my weak spots, movements matches my rhythm. Couldn't slow down, not now.

Still tangles my ears. Your soft voice telling me who I am. Giving me all I need, the power I ache for. You're all I ever needed, all my desires sparkles in the fire you light up.

The knife is up on my gut. All my life is on your hands, I wanna give every piece of my soul. My fate belongs to you.

Couldn't help it, we wouldn't stop. With every inch our sanity were vanishing even more. Taking all the risks like a domino. Even if, what if? I will stay by your side by all means.

Take me over. Rob me from my fears, from the illusion of safety. Take away my freedom. Take out my last tear drops.

On the kitchen, on the bathroom, on the floor. What could I want more. Waking up, falling asleep. Rise me up, make me faint. All over again, pretty please.

My blood is dripping in your body. I can see your eyes darken, the mischievous sparkle I adore. Your sinful wishes begging for more.

The low light surrounds your body like a God's aura. Makes me stay on my knees, begging for your redemption. Your sweat looks like holy water. Pardon me, bless me with the taste of your body.

Take off my oxygen, bring me to life. Shaking, trembling. My life stands on the edge, your hands on my neck, you can do what you want with me. Playing with joy, in the bring of dying.

I am yours, to use, to love, to abuse.

I can be whatever you want. However you need. I will keep the pace your wish. I'm giving my everything to you. Use as you wish, I'm always by your side.

Be mine, be mine forever. Be my angel, be my destruction. Be the God I beg for mercy, be the chaos I deserve. Be my right hand, be my chains. Be mine.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

“I build homes”

Azir has found a new purpose in building homes.

A Hawk’s nest one would say.

First there’s the House of Imani, the state home he builds for the orphans of Shurima, so no parent may ever lose their child to indenture. He cuts the ribbon himself with his long nails, and he hugs every one of his wards. There’s just seven, at the opening. But he knows more will come.

They have teachers and caretakers and guards, all of which are chosen by Nasus himself. They live as siblings.

Let them know their Emperor loves them, is the initial motto. It shifts to let them know they’re loved after he abdicates.

Then there’s Renekton’s house.

The old summer home of the imperial House, where the elders would spend their last days before a peaceful death, is repurposed for the ascended Crocodile. Much of the luxurious rooms are tore down so he may have rooms to roam, or re-purposes into rooms of arms where he can release his wrath.

Give me blood! Give me vengeance! Give me…

…peace. Give me quiet. Give me silence.

A gentle treatment rekindles Renekton’s grasp onto life and the others. He spends most of his time gorging himself in sleeping powders, tormented by hammering headaches, the remorse of his deeds and the clash between Xerath’s illusions and the painful reality of what he lost. His fighting spirits subsides, turning to self-harm and rage. He gives himself the coldest baths, trains until his body strains and sleeps for days on end when the powders hit.

Sometimes Azir comes by, the only one he lets himself be seen by. He’s tormented Azir quite enough during his imprisonment, which is enough for him not to hurt him now. He feels as if he deserves it.

Most of the times they don’t even do anything. They sunbathe, they nap, they fight, Azir plays him songs or tells him old memories.

You were always a special kid.

They say crocodile tears are insincere, but not these ones.

Days pass, then months. Renekton is but a shadow of the Butcher of the Sands, now. He’s lethargic and sullen and fretful, seeing Xerath in every lightning storm or distant gleam.

But there’s a special room in his golden prison. One where a sturdy glass is the greatest wall between him and the rest of the world.

The view isn’t that great, it’s just typical desert. Renekton knows it. But he also knows the purpose of that room, and why he can see the outside without touching it.

“Here’s where I’ll meet my brother, isn’t it?”

Azir sighs. “He truly wants to see you.”

Renekton groans, grasping onto his forehead. Beads of sweat run down his face.

“I can hardly stomach you, Azir. Sometimes I still want to rip your feathers off.”

Don’t remind me, dear uncle. “I love my brother, but for his welfare, it’s best I don’t see him. If I forget again, I… gods, why? Why did I do that?”

“Shhh, shhh. It’s going to be alright. You’re never going to end up in there again.”

Renekton hugs Azir tight, cutting his breath. Then he turns his back on him, drawing circles in the sand.

“I’ve done enough. Let me stay here, Azir. My head will kill me before him anyway.”

If you knew just how he loves you, you’d embrace him with open arms.

[silent-swiftie-ph]

Appreciation post

Today was a hell of a ride. I cannot express my admiration to both Taylor and Karlie. Wavering the shit storms throughout the years. This is indeed the greatest love story and I really hope and wish for their forever happiness.

Something that I got from this is, love. Love unconditionally, just go with it. Take it all in. Of course it wouldn’t be ideal. Nothing is ideal, but at the end of the day, its worth every tears, sweat, and blood. Compromise, sacrifice, and just fucking show up. I have never ever gauged the magnitude of this line “look up” (i got you) until now.

To this community, lets continue the support. Shit will hit the fan, but we’ve stood our ground. I’m so happy how this community thrives. Discussions but no judgement, some debates but never hatred. Everyone is respectful and full of love. Even though most of the time, I’m just a lurker, i adore everyone of you. 🥰🥰🥰

[crumbledstatues]

In the Riverlands, the air was thick with tension, a cold mist clinging to Aemond's skin as he paced along the camp perimeter. The fires burned low, their light flickering like dying stars. A few men whispered in the shadows, the weight of the war pressing heavily on them all. Aemond felt that pressure too, but it only fuelled the fire inside him. His thoughts, however, were far from the Riverlands and the battles that awaited.

He thought of King's Landing. Of home. Of her.

Helaena...

Even with the Riverlands stretching vast before him, with enemies hiding behind every tree and hill, his mind always drifted back to his sister. She had been his anchor, his tether to some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of his family and their bitter, endless war. He could picture her now: her soft, cryptic smile, her quiet words that only he had tried to understand.

Then came the sound of hurried footsteps, a break in the usual stillness that made him turn, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. One of his messengers approached, face pale, eyes wide with unspeakable news.

" My prince, " the man began, his voice barely a whisper. Something in his tone made Aemond's blood run cold. The messenger hesitated, a bead of sweat running down his brow, as if the words he carried were too heavy to speak.

" What is it? " Aemond demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the night. His one remaining eye bore into the man, daring him to delay any longer.

The messenger's lips quivered before the words finally spilled out. " It's your sister, Princess Helaena. She...she is dead. "

For a moment, Aemond simply stood there, the words not fully sinking in. Dead? It couldn't be. His mind rejected it, the sheer impossibility of it. Helaena, the one pure thing in his life, gone? He stared at the messenger, waiting for some clarification, some detail that would undo the horror of what he had just heard.

" How? " Aemond managed, his voice low, dangerous.

" She...threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast, my prince. "

The words hit like a blade to his chest, sharp and unrelenting. Helaena, his gentle, sweet sister, had taken her own life. Aemond staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. The world around him blurred, the Riverlands dissolving into a haze of disbelief and rage. He turned away from the messenger, his mind racing, heart pounding painfully in his chest. How could this have happened? How could anyone have allowed this?

For a long moment, Aemond was frozen, his thoughts a swirling tempest of grief and fury. His hand trembled, clenched into a fist at his side.

Helaena...gone. And he hadn't been there.

He had been miles away, waging his own war, driven by duty, by his need to prove himself. He had left her in the heart of that viper's nest, surrounded by snakes. And now...this.

Aemond's breaths came fast and shallow as the weight of it all bore down on him. He had failed her. He had failed the one person who had never seen him as a monster. The one person who had always looked at him with kindness, with love.

And now she was gone.

A choked sound escaped his throat, somewhere between a sob and a growl, a sound of deep, agonizing loss. His eye burned with unshed tears, but he forced them down, his rage surging to the forefront. She hadn't deserved this. Not Helaena. Of all the horrors this war had brought, of all the lives lost and betrayals suffered, her death felt like the greatest injustice of all.

Who had driven her to this? What poison had been whispered into her ear while he was gone, too far away to shield her? He thought of his brother, Aegon, weak and drunk on his own misery. He thought of their enemies, those who would have revelled in Helaena's death, seeing it as another blow to the Greens. Aemond's heart seethed with the need for vengeance, for blood.

But no amount of blood would bring her back. No amount of violence would erase the cold, hollow truth that his sister was gone.

He staggered toward a tree at the edge of the camp and leaned against it, his hand gripping the rough bark so hard it splintered beneath his fingers. The pain felt distant, numb compared to the agony twisting inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see was Helaena's face; her smile, her bright eyes, the way she had always tried to see beyond this world, beyond its cruelties. Her cryptic warnings, perhaps they had all been for herself.

And he hadn't seen it.

She had been slipping away, and he had been too blind, too focused on his own battles, to notice.

He thought of the last time he had seen her, how she had smiled at him in that quiet way of hers, her words soft and strange. Had she known, even then? Had she tried to warn him?

Gods, he had failed her.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he slammed his fist into the tree, the bark cracking under his strength. He wanted to scream, to roar at the heavens for the injustice of it all, for taking her from him when he needed her most. The war had taken so much, but this was unbearable.

He couldn't even go to her. He couldn't hold her one last time, tell her that he was sorry, that he should have been there. He was too far away, caught in the web of violence and ambition that had torn their family apart. The Riverlands stretched out before him, and between him and King's Landing, an ocean of blood and death stood.

Aemond pushed away from the tree, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He would not weep. He would not allow himself that weakness. But the weight of his grief was a palpable thing, suffocating him, pressing down on his chest with every breath he took.

" Helaena... " He whispered into the night, as if somehow her name could summon her back.

But there was only silence.

And in that silence, the cold truth remained. Helaena was gone, and no amount of rage or tears or blood would change that.

Aemond's eye blazed with fury as he turned back toward the camp, his heart a dark, twisted knot of grief and vengeance. He would finish what he had started. He would burn his enemies to the ground, destroy anyone who had had a hand in his sister's torment. He would make the world bleed for her death.

But in the quiet moments, in the depths of his heart, he knew that nothing would fill the hollow space Helaena had left behind. No matter how many enemies he cut down, no matter how many battles he won, the ache of her loss would remain, gnawing at him from the inside.

She had been his light. And now, that light was gone.

He was alone in the dark.

My muse has died. Send in your muse’s reaction.

[chorusfm]

Bruce Springsteen – Born In The U.S.A.

Die-hard Bruce Springsteen fans love to deride Born in the U.S.A. It’s their way of telling you they’re “real” fans, not those jumping on the bandwagon as Bruce blew up. On the contrary, they’re “cultured” enough to prefer the stark landscapes of Nebraska to the dated, synth-blasted ‘80s sound of U.S.A. They use words like “overplayed” and “overproduced” to describe the famed songwriter’s biggest record, while perhaps praising something more obscure like The Ghost of Tom Joad. And they’re probably tired of explaining to their friends that “Born in the U.S.A.,” the song, is not a jingoistic piece of macho rock, but actually a critique of pointless wars. In general, I don’t get along with these people. To be fair, Born in the U.S.A. is not Springsteen’s best record. I don’t think I’ve ever met a fan who prefers it to Born to Run, which is my favorite Boss record and my favorite record, period. It also seems pretty universally accepted that U.S.A. is inferior to the records that immediately followed Born to Run: Darkness on the Edge of Town and The River. Those three albums certainly function as the thematic core of Springsteen’s catalog in a way that his later material can’t compete with. But Born in the U.S.A. is also a lot deeper, more nuanced, and more complex than most people make it out to be. The reason for the wrongful Born in the U.S.A. malign isn’t hard to see. This record turned Springsteen from everyman rock hero to multi-millionaire pop star. It spawned seven top 10 singles, putting Springsteen in the company of Janet and Michael Jackson as one of the only artists ever to accomplish that feat for a single album. It also just sounds a lot more commercial than its predecessors, shedding the dust, grit, blood, sweat, and tears of earlier Springsteen records for something shinier and more radio-ready. But if Born in the U.S.A. is a sellout record, it’s gotta be the greatest one in history. Instead of sanitizing his writing, Springsteen wrote with nostalgia and fury about the state of America. And instead of burying the E Street Band beneath layers of reverb and overdubs, Bruce let the full might of his sidemen and women explode behind him. The result is the most muscular Springsteen LP, but also one of the most vulnerable — at least if you take the time to look behind the roar of the arrangements. The two most obviously misinterpreted numbers were the two biggest hits: the title track and “Dancing in the Dark.” The former was famously misused by Ronald Reagan, who took it as a pronouncement of pride and patriotism rather than a searing narrative about a damaged, neglected Vietnam vet. The latter, meanwhile, hides vitriol and bitterness behind the catchiest hook Bruce ever wrote. Springsteen penned the song in a flight of creative exhaustion and frustration after being told by manager Jon Landau that the album lacked a single. Landau was wrong six times over, and he still somehow managed to be right. It’s the back half of the album, though, that’s always drawn me in. Side two — from “No Surrender” to “My Hometown” — is a string of songs about faded stomping grounds, squandered glory days, and enduring friendships. “We busted out of class, had to get away from those fools/We learned more from a three-minute record, baby/Then we’d ever learned in school,” Bruce sings on “No Surrender.” By itself, the song is an anthem. How could it not be, with opening lines that triumphant? In the context of side B, though — and in the context of the somber acoustic version Springsteen played on the Born in the U.S.A. tour — “No Surrender” is a heartbreaking hymn to better times. A track later, on “Bobby Jean,” Springsteen is wishing good luck to a friend who, for whatever reason, had to leave. (He wrote it about E Street guitarist and right-hand man Steve Van Zandt, who temporarily left the band after this record.) And while “Glory Days” sounds like a send-up of high school renown, it’s actually a poignant examination of how the glories, hopes, and… https://chorus.fm/reviews/bruce-springsteen-born-in-the-u-s-a/

[dan6085]

Boy bands have been a staple of pop music for decades, with groups of young men singing and dancing their way into the hearts of fans around the world. Here are 20 of the greatest boy bands in history, in no particular order:

1. The Beatles: The Beatles were one of the most influential bands of all time, with hits such as "I Want to Hold Your Hand," "She Loves You," and "Hey Jude." They were known for their catchy melodies, innovative songwriting, and charming personalities.

2. Backstreet Boys: Backstreet Boys were one of the most successful boy bands of the 1990s and 2000s, with hits such as "I Want It That Way," "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)," and "As Long as You Love Me." They were known for their harmonies, dance routines, and romantic ballads.

3. *NSYNC: *NSYNC was another hugely successful boy band of the late 1990s and early 2000s, with hits such as "Bye Bye Bye," "It's Gonna Be Me," and "Pop." They were known for their slick choreography, catchy pop songs, and boy-next-door charm.

4. New Kids on the Block: New Kids on the Block were one of the first boy bands to achieve massive success in the late 1980s and early 1990s, with hits such as "Hangin' Tough," "Step by Step," and "You Got It (The Right Stuff)." They were known for their synchronized dance moves, catchy pop songs, and loyal fanbase.

5. Boyz II Men: Boyz II Men were a vocal group that dominated the R&B and pop charts in the 1990s, with hits such as "End of the Road," "I'll Make Love to You," and "One Sweet Day." They were known for their smooth harmonies, emotional ballads, and soulful sound.

6. The Jackson 5: The Jackson 5 were a family band that launched the career of Michael Jackson, with hits such as "ABC," "I Want You Back," and "Never Can Say Goodbye." They were known for their energetic performances, catchy pop songs, and Motown sound.

7. One Direction: One Direction was a British boy band that rose to fame in the 2010s, with hits such as "What Makes You Beautiful," "Live While We're Young," and "Story of My Life." They were known for their boyish charm, catchy pop songs, and massive global fanbase.

8. BTS: BTS is a Korean boy band that has become a global phenomenon in recent years, with hits such as "Dynamite," "Blood Sweat & Tears," and "Spring Day." They are known for their unique blend of pop, hip-hop, and EDM, as well as their socially conscious lyrics and elaborate music videos.

9. Menudo: Menudo was a Puerto Rican boy band that was popular in the 1980s, with hits such as "If You're Not Here (By My Side)," "Hold Me," and "Like a Cannonball." They were known for their Latin-infused pop songs, synchronized dance moves, and frequent lineup changes.

10. The Osmonds: The Osmonds were a family band that had a string of hits in the 1970s, with songs such as "One Bad Apple," "Yo-Yo," and "Crazy Horses." They were known for their catchy pop songs, wholesome image, and clean-cut style.

11. 98 Degrees: 98 Degrees was a boy band that was popular in the late 1990s and early 2000s, with hits such as "Because of You," "I Do (Cherish You)," and "The Hardest Thing." They were known for their romantic ballads, smooth harmonies, and polished image.

12. Hanson: Hanson was a sibling trio that had a massive hit with "MMMBop" in the late 1990s, as well as other hits such as "Where's the Love" and "I Will Come to You." They were known for their catchy pop songs, harmonies, and youthful energy.

13. Westlife: Westlife was an Irish boy band that was popular in the late 1990s and 2000s, with hits such as "Flying Without Wings," "Swear It Again," and "World of Our Own." They were known for their romantic ballads, harmonies, and polished image.

14. Boyzone: Boyzone was an Irish boy band that was popular in the 1990s and 2000s, with hits such as "Love Me for a Reason," "No Matter What," and "Picture of You." They were known for their catchy pop songs, harmonies, and boy-next-door charm.

15. The Monkees: The Monkees were a band formed for a TV show in the 1960s, with hitssuch as "Last Train to Clarksville," "I'm a Believer," and "Daydream Believer." They were known for their catchy pop songs, zany antics, and manufactured image.

16. LFO: LFO (Lyte Funky Ones) was a boy band that was popular in the late 1990s and early 2000s, with hits such as "Summer Girls," "Girl on TV," and "Every Other Time." They were known for their upbeat pop songs, catchy hooks, and playful lyrics.

17. Five: Five was a British boy band that was popular in the late 1990s and early 2000s, with hits such as "When the Lights Go Out," "Keep on Movin'," and "Everybody Get Up." They were known for their high-energy performances, edgy image, and catchy pop songs.

18. Take That: Take That was a British boy band that was popular in the 1990s and 2000s, with hits such as "Back for Good," "Pray," and "Relight My Fire." They were known for their polished image, catchy pop songs, and smooth harmonies.

19. New Edition: New Edition was a vocal group that had hits in the 1980s and 1990s, with songs such as "Candy Girl," "Cool It Now," and "If It Isn't Love." They were known for their R&B-infused pop songs, synchronized dance moves, and soulful sound.

20. The Temptations: The Temptations were a vocal group that had hits in the 1960s and 1970s, with songs such as "My Girl," "Ain't Too Proud to Beg," and "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone." They were known for their smooth harmonies, intricate choreography, and Motown sound.

Each of these boy bands has left a lasting impact on pop music, with their catchy songs, synchronized dance moves, and charming personalities. While many of these groups are no longer together, their music continues to be celebrated by fans around the world.

[lookwrittenthings]

Disparate Pieces

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World Words: 5241 Rating: M Summary: The two most important parts of Richter’s plan had failed, and there were still so many mistakes to pay for. Post-canon neutral end — With one thousand years stretching out in front of them, Richter and Ratatosk struggle for closure in the Ginnungagap. Guilt, hate, grief, and longing. What could go wrong? Now on Archive! This fic was written for @transalphinaud on twitter for talessecretsanta2022!   

   Richter stared up at the damaged gate, and Ratatosk’s red eyes seemed to dig into his back. “One thousand years,” the summon spirit reminded him.

    Richter exhaled a laugh through his nose. He was still a researcher. He understood, deeply, how alien this creature must have been to say the words one thousand years— and mean them as comfort.

    It pissed him off, but some part of him was grudgingly touched. He wouldn't have the mental clarity for such emotion for long.

    It’s terribly ironic that Ratatosk managed to kill the one being that would have leapt into an arrangement like this with his entire heart. If their positions were reversed Aster would have plenty to say. He’d march backward, stone in hand— all foolish forgiveness and openhearted curiosity.

    You’ve really changed, haven’t you? he’d tease the spirit. That’s good. You were kind of the worst before but you were just scared, weren’t you? Of us. Of the world and being hurt. I’m glad we can work together, now. And for one thousand years, too! Time is probably the greatest mystery of all, so I guess I’ll see you on the other side!

    Richter blinked the image away.

    It didn’t matter. Aster was dead. Richter had been the one to survive, and he couldn’t forgive— couldn’t find it in him to unleash hopeful platitudes before he sacrificed himself. Not for his enemy, not even for Emil.

    Not so soon after failing. He’d said quite enough already— look where it got him.

    “I’m starting,” he announced simply, holding out the sacred stone. Shining mana innocently clung to the air around it. When he began casting it soaked into his skin as if pulled by a magnet.

    Ignite, he thought and clenched his fist.

    Heat scorched up his forearm as if he was holding it unprotected over a campfire. Flames spread over and under his skin, sharp stabs of pain making his body seize and jerk— trying desperately to soothe the blaze. Darkness pushed at the edges of Richter’s blurring vision.

    Something was pounding at the gate. Loud, horrible thumps. Fiendish shrieking pierced through Richter’s skull. Demons.

    Fuck you, he thought with deep, simple clarity. Fuck all of you for making me into this— for giving me the choice to have him back at the cost of everything we valued. Suffer and scream, you beasts.

    The inferno tearing him apart abruptly became a tool, a necessity. Slowly, weighed down by the limits of his own crumbling body, Richter forced himself upright. He took a trembling step toward the gate— toward the demons— determined to get as much searing mana in their monstrous faces as possible.

    I will never let you into this world.

    He screamed into the dark and tasted blood in his mouth. There was nothing to give but his hate— and he had plenty saved for this moment.

    The demons wailed.

    Richter couldn’t maintain it.

    He fell to a knee, hard, and clutched the stone tighter to his chest. Sweat dripped into his eyes and coated his back. Hot tears poured down his cheeks and turned to steam, sizzling against his skin. Basic instinct begged Richter to get away from whatever was destroying him from within. Run. Survive. Live. It couldn’t understand that this was his life now— that in one thousand years, he would know whether this was a mistake.

    The fire spread through his torso, legs, throat.

    Richter was gasping. His will never wavered, but his body was still mortal. It collapsed.

    Arms wrapped around his chest before he could hit the floor. There was shouting in his ear— he couldn’t make out the words. Snarls tore out of his mouth, animal, desperate. Something was healing him, keeping him alive, but failing to dull the pain. He pried open his eyes and saw a haze of blonde hair.

    One thought rose to the surface in the agony— stubbornly pressing against Richter’s boiling eyelids.

    Aster, forgive me. I wanted to do this for a world with you in it.

    Richter’s struggling quieted into silence as he lost consciousness. His limp body twitched and jerked occasionally as his mana continued to burn. Ratatosk held him tighter and forced the darkness around them to cool his overheating skin.

    After some time, the pounding on the gate ceased. The demons were repelled, at least for the time being.

    Ratatosk sat down, laying Richter’s head in his lap. He sighed, pressing a finger to the man’s sweat-slick forehead. Slowly, carefully, he pulled the excess mana from the stone out of his limp body.

    It was like touching a candle, Ratatosk hissed through his teeth, letting the enflamed mana transfer fully to his finger before putting it out with a wave of his hand. Richter’s unconscious body seemed to relax, somewhat.

    “There. That’s better, right?” Ratatosk said aloud. “Not perfect, but better.”

    He couldn’t take all of Richter’s mana yet— not without killing him. A basic supply was needed to survive, especially without proper food and water. Still, temporarily cutting Richter off from the stone would ease his suffering for a few moments.

    The man’s breathing was still uneven, his face flushed with heat and pain. He stirred, just slightly, and pressed his forehead into Ratatosk’s stomach.

    “Aster,” he whispered, voice scarcely more than a vocal breath.

    “Just me, sorry,” Ratatosk replied. The apology didn’t feel foreign on his tongue— he’d uttered them more times than he could count as Emil, but it did make something new pinch in his chest. “It’ll hurt less now, but the pain won’t stop completely as long as there’s still mana in you to burn. Just try to sleep, okay?”

    Richter’s eyelids fluttered. His green eyes were dull with pain, but there was passion there, too. Quiet anger.

    “You can’t hear me, can you?” Ratatosk realized, slowing down and enunciating clearly as he met Richter’s glare. “I’m saying you’re going to be fine. It’s not going to hurt like that the whole time. That’s just the worst of it when the demons are at the breach. Most of the time, it’ll ebb and flow. You’ll have periods of cognizance, like this.”

    Silence. Richter’s face contorted, eyebrows drawing together as he attempted to find words. Ratatosk mentally kicked himself for trying to explain so much when Richter was barely conscious.

    After a moment of struggling, Ratatosk reluctantly leaned closer to hear the man. “What? What is it?”

    “Don’t—touch me.”

    It felt like a slap.

    The anger from Richter wasn’t at the situation, but at Ratatosk specifically. Of course it was. Why did he expect differently?

    Fuck this, Ratatosk thought, temper flaring. His grip tightened on the fallen man’s shirt because it could. Because it was easy. Spiteful words flew to his tongue before he could think to stop them.

    “You’re really about to complain after all that? What I’m doing for you isn’t easy you know. I don’t have to dull your pain or keep you alive. I don’t even have to let you out. I can make you suffer as long as I want—”

    The hate in Richter’s eyes had never been more clear. This was the conviction that could change the heart of a Centurion. The conviction that believed it could face an angry summon spirit and come out alive.

    Ratatosk felt it physically, a sharp pull in his chest; his rage drained instantly. What the hell was he doing? He released Richter’s shirt with a growl and removed his head from his lap to lay it carefully on the hard floor.

    “Forget it,” he announced, turning around.

    He stared out into the void they both shared, and impulsively reached for Emil.

    Take over, he thought. Be gentle.

    Nothing happened.

    Somewhere in him, he knew that would be the case. He was Emil now. There was nowhere to go, to hide, to cool off when every part of him was here.

    Every choice that was Emil’s was Ratatosk’s, and vice-versa. There’d be no running for either of them.

    Feeling sick, Ratatosk bowed his head.

    I caused this. All of it.

    “I’m sorry,” he offered pathetically, knowing instantly that it wouldn’t be enough. Another stupid bandage on another stupid wound. “I promise I won’t make you suffer more than you have to for this. If you want to lay on the floor alone for a thousand years, that’s your call to make. I’m not going to fight you. I’d let you go now if I could, but I can’t rewire everything without someone keeping the demons at bay. Just now… I just— I was just…”

    Angry, stupid, inhuman.

    Ratatosk swallowed.

    “I’m really not trying to fight you,” He mumbled finally, pulling at his hair. “Not again. Not after what I did. Just…sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Do what you want, I’ll stay out of your way.”

    Richter didn’t reply, but he didn’t look away either. His gaze hurt.

    Ratatosk wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

    When Richter awoke, Emil’s scarf was under his head. He felt the soft fabric with his fingertips, and shut his eyes. He had no idea how much time had passed. Hours? Days? It was still too early to care about either.

    The spirit, true to his word, had not attempted another conversation.

    Unfortunately, Richter had questions.

    “You’re Emil as well, aren’t you?” He offered, finally, not even bothering to sit up. “Earlier your eyes were green.”

    “I guess I’m unconsciously still trying to physically differentiate us. We combined,” Ratatosk explained, opening a red eye. He looked nothing like Aster or Emil in this moment, meditating with his legs folded underneath him. Mana whisked around him confidently as he rearranged the world on a level Richter suspected he would never fully comprehend. “It’s not going well.”

    Richter sniffed, unimpressed. “I see.”

    “I don’t expect you to get it. I was myself a lot longer than I was Emil, so to you, I probably just look like Ratatosk now. But if you’re looking to coax Emil out or something— you don’t have to: I’m here. I just have the memories that made me Ratatosk to begin with. It’s confusing, sifting through them all. I really wish I knew what I was doing— I have such a temper now. I really am so sorry about earlier, Richter.”

    It was confusing. Ratatosk’s voice alone fluctuated between mild and harsh, eyes flashing red to green, back to red— disparate parts, jammed together.

    “Enough apologizing,” Richter snapped, then softened at Emil’s flinch. “At least you’re actually saying what’s on your mind now. You’re certainly more free with your language.”

    Ratatosk-Emil, smiled back, a hair sheepish.

    “Oh, yeah. It’s actually sort of a habit? I sure spoke roughly for a long time. That’s what I’m more used to, but if it makes you more comfortable I bet I can try to word things like Emil would— like this! You think that would make everything easier on you?”

    Emil was definitely in there; Richter was exhausted already.

    “If this is truly you, you shouldn’t bother,” Richter advised through the forming headache. “I’d rather have you be honest and infuriating than pretend to feel guilty and lie.”

    Ratatosk’s shoulders sank, but there was something like relief on his face.

    “You make a point. My guilt isn’t pretend though. There may have been a reason for my actions,, but I do know they were still very wrong. I hope you know that. I don’t want to be your enemy, Richter, even though I know you have every reason to hate me. I just want…I just want to fix this.”

    “Some things can’t be fixed.”

    Ratatosk flinched, then immediately glared. He was like a spoiled kid, ready to strike out the moment he failed to get his way. This was who Richter had hated all this time? The same spirit that had killed Aster so ruthlessly and wore his face without hesitation?

    “Getting ready to lash out?” Richter observed, coldly. “And you talk of repair…”

    Frustration quickly replaced the open rage on Ratatosk’s face. “I’m not lashing out! Look, I…understand. I just…hate it. Hate this. Dammit, sorry. I don’t know what to say!”

    “You should hate this, not apologize. It’s far too late for that,” Richter said, intending to leave it there and let him hurt for what he did— but Ratatosk’s eyes were a steady green again. Wide and familiar, and Richter suddenly wasn’t seeing Emil at all. He felt sick. “Must you maintain that form?”

    “Sorry,” Emil repeated, too fast. Richter shut his eyes, fists clenching.

    “Is that a yes or a no?”

    “It’s a— a…yes. Yes, it’s a yes, unfortunately. I could make myself a new body but that would take more time, and I really don’t want to keep you here longer than I have to.”

    “Do it,” Richter said, without hesitation. “I don’t care how long it takes, just stop using him like that.”

    Emil swallowed, but stood his ground. “No, Richter. He’s dead; I’m not using him. And I know the last thing he would have wanted was for you to be in this hell longer than you should. So no. I’m not wasting time like that, even if it would make you more comfortable. I’m sor—”

    “Forget it.” Richter turned on his side, hating that Emil was right, in this moment, about what Aster would have wanted.

    Green eyes carved into his back.

    Time passed, one day into the next. The knocking would resume, and Richter would light himself again, only collapsing once the threat was dealt with. He always lasted longer than he was meant to, and stood tall against forces that could destroy him with a wave of their hand.

    It was a humbling sight.

    Mortal creatures were so fragile. Capable of impossible acts of heroism and cruelty— often simultaneously.

    Ratatosk was a being of mana, born of energy, not blood. He did not have a heart.

    This body did, however, and it beat. It ached.

    Richter hated him— that much was obvious— but still, residual feelings from Ratatosk’s time as Emil boiled under his skin.

    Richter’s impossible will threatened to change Ratatosk completely, as it had Aqua before him.

    It was not the first time— Mithos had once approached Ratatosk with ideals. Determination had blazed in a body too small to fit it all. He had earned his respect— his want. Ratatosk had been pulled in, drawn to the impossible strength of a mortal, and it had led him exactly where it had led all the other summon spirits.

    Then there was Marta. Adoring and open, with a steadfast belief in him and the world. Cheerful, bright, and now living out her life as she should have from the start, without his interference.

    Ratatosk was not meant to want. He was not meant to know mortals, touch mortals, see mortals.

    Every healing touch, every moment of pulling the candle-hot thread of mana from Richter’s forehead as he slept, grew something that had no place growing inside the Lord of Monsters.

    It was a sickening thing, wanting what had destroyed you once, what swore revenge on you, and yet Ratatosk had no idea how to stop it. It was a part of him, this desire, as much as everything else.

    One thousand years was too long, and yet not remotely long enough to have his fill.

    He hated himself.

    Richter didn’t ask how much time had passed. He didn’t want to know.

    He was familiar with work being his only motivation to stay alive. He was born in a lab basement, and had, before Aster, resigned himself to dying there. He still woke up every morning.

    The reality of it was this: he genuinely liked research. The papers he’d written had been his only method of connection to an outside world that had been conditioned to hate him. Summon Spirits had seemed as real to him as the cruel and frustrating humans that flitted in and out of the lab. They were even more sympathetic, sometimes— Summon Spirits were largely alone, too, after all.

    As a child, he’d lay awake in bed and wonder what it would be like to befriend one—  form a pact. He’d ask it to tear open the fabric of the world so that there would be room for someone like him.

    It didn’t play out that way. Aster waltzed into his life with bizarre new ideas, bolder than anything Richter could have planned for. Hope took root where only isolation had lived before, and Ratatosk had stolen all of that away in a matter of seconds.

    Now, life was work again. Richter lit himself up at every knock at the gate. Waking, lighting, collapsing— a repeating cycle. It was different work, but just as isolating, just as painful.

    He never considered himself the type of person who needed others. When he was with Aster, everyone else had felt like excess noise. Without Aster, they were all just a means to an end to get him back.

    It took him until now to realize he liked them. He missed Aqua’s chatter; her loyalty and constant compliments. He missed the everyday sounds of life: the sound of a page turning in a book, or a cup of coffee being set on a wood table.

    The Ginnungagap was silent when there were no demons. Just the quiet whoosh of mana flowing through Ratatosk as he meditated.

    Richter sat up, leaning on his axe, and allowed himself to stare at the one other being he shared this space with.

    The Spirit had obediently followed Richter’s request from that first day: they did not touch. Whenever Richter’s body eventually gave out from exertion, he hit the ground hard. He’d pass out not long after, but always woke healed.

    “Need something?” Ratatosk asked, eyes flashing green. Richter flinched and looked away, disgusted. It had to be intentional. Somehow the spirit knew which appearance appealed to him more.

    “When I am unconscious, how much healing do I require?” he asked, still grimacing.

    “Don’t tell me that’s starting to bother you now,” Ratatosk said, frustrated. “I barely heal you. Sometimes the stress ruptures something, but most of the time I just end up giving you enough mana to mend your bruises from fainting. Believe me, I’m leaving you alone as much as I can, just like you wanted.”

    Richter hated the disappointment that coursed through him. He didn’t want Ratatosk to touch him. Ratatosk was the last being in the world he wanted to experience any sort of contact with— but he was starting to forget what it felt like. Casual brushes, the warmth of a hand on his shoulder… Memories outside the Ginnungagap seemed to haze and blur, while the memories within only strengthened. Each moment was more intense and torturous than the last: a punishment Richter knew he deserved.

    “Why did you catch me, that first time?” He found himself asking.

    “It just looked like it hurt. I don’t like seeing you hurt any more than you like hurting. You might not have seen me that way, but I still…” Ratatosk hesitated. “I think of you as a friend, Richter.”

    Richter swallowed, faded memories rising to the surface. “I told you once, I never hated Emil.”

    “We both know that isn’t the problem here.”

    Richter’s stomach churned.

    The years were starting to weigh on Richter. Physically, he was fine; the constant restructuring of his mana flow had slowed his aging enough that he would be able to live out the majority of his life normally even after leaving this place. But mentally…Ratatosk wasn’t sure.

    Richter’s commitment to keeping the demons at bay hadn’t wavered once— the moment there was a knock, the man was on his feet, glaring eyes bright and painfully magnetic. The problem was after. There wasn’t much to explore in their corner of the Ginnungagap, but Richter used to at least stretch his legs or practice with his weapons after being healed. Now he simply turned on his side and slept. He slept often, and poorly, mumbling names Ratatosk didn’t dare get close enough to listen for.

    Ratatosk snapped and canceled his spell. The mana around him stopped flowing— this would definitely set them back a couple of days, but interference was required.

    The absence of the wind woke Richter, and he sat up quickly, hand on his axe. At least his reflexes hadn’t dulled.

    “You’re not casting,” Richter accused. “Why?”

    Ratatosk lied through his teeth. “I have to take breaks too sometimes, you know— though not half as often as you. You’re sleeping too much. It’s not good for you.”

    “You’re lecturing me?”

    He sounded pissed. Ratatosk felt part of himself chip off and wither. He crossed his arms, doubling down. The Lord of Monsters did not waver.

    “I’m entertaining you. You’re bored, right? That’s why you’re sleeping. What do you want to do? I don’t have a lot of time to spare so just…tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

    Richter somehow managed to look even more pissed than before. “I want to sleep.”

    “Something else,” Ratatosk said, and Richter grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him close.

    The motion was so rough and sudden, everything in Ratatosk seemed to hang suspended. Breath failed to enter his borrowed body.

    “I do not want your entertainment, spirit. I want to be left alone.”

    He shoved him back hard. Ratatosk stumbled uncharacteristically. His face felt hot. His heart beat too quickly, like it was Emil’s, like it was his own. Breath returned, but remained unsteady.

    “Okay,” Ratatosk said, arms around himself. Anger filled every corner of his body. Anger, lust, longing. He hated this. He was just trying to help. “Okay. Sorry I offered.”

    Richter’s fist clenched.

    More time. Impossible to follow. Everything hurt. Pain ebbed and flowed, but Richter had long since lost sight of a time before every inch of his body felt like it was roasting.

    He couldn’t even sleep now. When he shut his eyes, his thoughts wandered to how it felt to curl his fingers in Ratatosk’s shirt and feel the heat of Aster’s skin against his hand.

    “Do Summon Spirits dream?” He found himself asking, facing Ratatosk. It was an old question, scrawled on the side of his childhood notebook.

    “Not like humans. When we’re in a core state, we experience memories, sort of. I’m not sure if they’re our own or something borrowed— likely a combination of both.”

    His eyes were still green. Richter tried to find anger, but only found further weakness.

    “After Aster, did you see anything? Any memory of his?”

    Ratatosk didn’t speak at first. He uncrossed his legs, and the mana around him seemed to still. Everything felt eerily, unsettlingly quiet. “Would you like it, if I had?”

    “Yes.”

    ‘Why?”

    “It would be something new about him. Something I didn’t know. Those memories are…few.” The answer came easier than Richter had expected. He liked to talk about Aster— how had he forgotten?

    Ratatosk scratched his head. “Let me think about it then. My memory from that time is...hazy.”

    Richter didn’t argue when he came and sat beside him. In fact, he made some room.

    “Aster would be thrilled by the idea— the possibility of communicating his memories beyond the grave.”

    “Even if he was communicating through his killer?”

    Richter grimaced, rubbing his forehead in an old, frustrated habit. “Especially then. I told you, he had a few screws loose.”

    “You loved him, didn’t you?” The Spirit asked. The question didn’t cut into Richter, so much as slowly seep into his skin like the mana from the sacred stone.

    He ignited. A barking laugh worked its way out of his throat. It felt like he hadn’t laughed in a hundred years; it felt like he’d never laugh again.

    “Richter!?” Ratatosk— although he really looked closer to Emil now— seemed visibly concerned.

    Richter couldn’t find it in him to care. He reached out to cup Aster’s cheek, feeling another human being for the first time in years. “I wasn’t aware I was being subtle about it.”

    Emil licked his lips; Richter watched.

    “What about him, did he love you?”

    “As a friend. Beyond that, I’ll never know. He didn’t either. I never said the words out loud— at least not when he could hear me.”

    “You can say them to me if you want.”

    “No,” Richter said, simply. “You killed him.”

    He could see exactly how the words passed through Emil. Some wretched tangle of guilt, hurt, and longing settled on his face. He deserved it, but Richter didn’t lower his hand. He continued to stroke through Emil’s hair— continued to soothe the boy, the Spirit, even though he had killed the one person in the world that seemed to matter.

    “And you look just like him.”

    Emil leaned into his hand. “I’m sorry.”

    “I don’t want an apology.”

    “What do you want?”

    Red eyes. Richter felt his blood boil, gentle touch quickly turning rough as he gripped Aster’s hair and pulled hard enough to earn a hiss of pain. It’d been so long, even painful contact made everything in Richter stand on end.

    “I want him back,” Richter growled. “I want you dead. I want my plan to have worked. I want to be—”

    It happened all at once. Richter’s back hit the ground with a thud. Ratatosk pinned him down, forehead against his.

    “What, Richter? Dead? Burning yourself alive for the good of a world that doesn’t give half a shit about you!? What the fuck is the point of that?”

    “What’s the point of anything if he’s not here!?” Richter yelled, and felt something hard hit him in the face. He’d been slapped. Green eyes stared down at him, equally wide.

    “I’m…sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that.”

    Richter was breathless. Everything hurt. He closed his eyes and felt something warm and wet on his face. When he opened them again, Emil was crying.

    “Someone…Someone with a will like yours isn’t supposed to accept dying. I know what I did was wrong, so why are you the one being punished for it? Why do both of us have to…”

    His eyes turned red. This was Ratatosk, Emil, everything between. His true self.

    “The world is cruel and you can’t trust anyone in it. Mortals disappoint you, humans destroy everything— everything precious I’ve made they’ve taken and broken—” he practically spat the words, then hesitated. His voice softened. “But you were kind to me, Richter, when you had no reason to be. You were kind to me when I didn’t even know who I was and I—I wish I was him. I wish I was someone you didn’t hate. Someone you wanted, who could give you a reason to keep going, but I’m just—”

    Richter kissed him. His fingers tangled in familiar blonde hair. Soft lips, slack with shock, opened for him easily.

    You are someone I want, he thought, greedily pulling the man over him and tracing the lines of a body he’d dreamt of more times than he could keep track of. You are, and you aren’t.

    Slowly, the Spirit melted to him. He lay flat over Richter, hands crawling over his chest, pulling under his clothes as he kissed him back more harshly than Aster ever would have. Richter grunted and broke away, turning his face. It felt criminal to reject the touch while every atom in his body ached for it desperately, but he had to.

    “This isn’t...”

    Why?

    Richter couldn’t continue, couldn’t think properly. He was hard, that much was undeniable. His mana was still alight in a steady, unrelenting burn. Everywhere Ratatosk touched grew cool and eased the pain. He weakened.

    It was more intimate than before. It felt like Ratatosk was directly inside him, slowly snuffing out each flame at the source. Richter groaned, breathless. Shame and arousal tangled in the base of his stomach.

    “What are you— doing?”

    “Everything I can,” the Spirit whispered urgently, lips ghosting over his. “Let me help. Look, I don’t care who you picture if this helps you. Please, just let me give you some relief, for once.”

    Richter pulled him back in, and Aster’s mouth found his neck, sucking the skin there. For a moment, Richter lost sight of everything else. He was in one of the dorms at Sybak, above ground, and Aster was surprising him as usual. His body arched, and for a moment, Aster held him.

    The image didn’t last. Ratatosk was slower than Aster would have been, less exploratory, but still curious. Richter found himself moaning anyway, hating himself. It didn’t matter as long as someone was here. As long as he wasn’t burning alone. For once, he didn’t want to research— he just wanted to feel.

    “Your body’s too hot, Richter,” Ratatosk repeated, continuing to layer kisses over his chest. They eased the fire under his skin and replaced it with something new. “Richter.”

    Impulse took over, and he was pulling at Aster’s hair again, yanking Ratatosk off him only to roll over and reverse their positions. He kissed the boy, Spirit, ghost as hard as he could— let his hands work off the fastenings of his shirt and glide over soft skin.

    Green eyes dark with lust stared up at him, and Richter let himself fall hard into another mistake.

    Maybe this one wouldn’t cost him a thousand years.

    Ratatosk knew their hasty fumbling had added a few days onto their time together.

    This would end like everything always did with mortals: in either betrayal or death.

    Spirits didn’t die— not like humans. There was no promise of an end, or darkness, or silence. Even after a core was destroyed, the mana from the event would just return to the world to reform later.

    The only true death was in parts of the self: in beliefs, trust, or hope. Mortality stuck to everything it touched. To trust a mortal, to care for one, always meant encouraging at least one of the few deaths a spirit could experience.

    Yet it happened again and again, despite Ratatosk’s best efforts. If his time as Emil had taught him anything, it was that kindness led to death, too— at least for his old self. Still, there were worse ways to become someone new. He was trying to continue that newborn kindness, find out where it led.

    It led to guilt. Guilt was new. It wasn’t a death, but something about it felt decidedly more harmful and permanent.

    Richter mumbled Aster’s name in his sleep, and Ratatosk closed his eyes, pretending not to hear.

    He would carry this forever, wouldn’t he?

    Richter put his clothes back on in the silence of the void.

    He picked up his axe and held it over Ratatosk’s “sleeping” form. He angled the blade over his throat. It would be easy. It would be simple.

    It wasn’t. His hand trembled.

    “Do you still want to?” Ratatosk asked, unmoving.

    Red eyes stared directly into Richter’s. Aster’s skin was still a little flushed. Richter had tasted every inch of it— begged into its corners. Ratatosk had let him, closed a hand around him, and cradled his head.

    It was horrible. Humiliating. Everything Richter wanted.

    He tossed the axe aside just in time to catch a knock at the gate and familiar screeching.

    Richter took a step forward.

    “Ask me later.”

    They had time.

[hmgn3]

23-January 散財記録

03(tue) ・Matthias Lindermayr / Sequence (2022, used LP) ・Peter Zummo / Dress Code (Don't Look at My Car) (2016, used LP) ・High Places / Original Colors (2011, used LP) ・The Notwist / Pick Up the Phone (2002, used 12inch) ・Indian Ocean / School Bell/Treehouse (1986, used 12inch) ・Serge Gainsbourg / Aux Armes Et Cætera (1979, used LP) ・Tony Snell / Medieval & Latter Day Lays (1973, used LP) ・Isaac Hayes / Theme From the Men/Type Thang (1972, used 7inch) ・Van Morrison / Blue Money/Sweet Thing (1971, used 7inch) 06(fri) ・AmmonContact / New Birth (2005, 2x12inch) ・The Ramsey Lewis Trio / Upendo Ni Pamoja (1972, used LP) ・Jerome Richardson / Going to the Movies (1962, used LP) 07(sat) ・Eri Nagami / どちらかというとそう思う (2022, cassette) ・ザ・なつやすみバンド / 風の谷のナウシカ (2022, used 7inch) ・TWIG EP for Hiraparr Wilson (2021, used 10inch) ・んミィ & ゆめであいましょう / ひかりのうた & おだやかにひそやかに (2019, 7inch) ・Jack Wilson / Spare Key (2013, used LP) ・João Bosco / Galos De Briga (1976, used LP) 09(mon) ・odd eyes / A love supreme for our brilliant town (2015, used 7inch+CD) ・Óbó / Innhverfi (2014, used LP) ・Loren Connors / Airs (1999, used LP) ・Solid Eye / It's a Salon (1996, used 7inch) ・Love of Life Orchestra / Geneva (1980, used LP) ・Maurice Jarre / Die Blechtrommel (1979, used LP) 12(fri) ・中村祐子 / 私を連れていって (2020, used CD) ・蓮沼執太 / CC OO (2012, used 4CD) 13(fri) ・Brian Chase / Drums & Drones II (2018, used LP) ・DATE OF BIRTH / AROUND+AROUND (1985, used 10inch) ・Bossa Combo / Ambiance D'Ete (1981, used LP) 14(sat) ・Stargaze / Deerhoof Chamber Variations (2015, used 12inch) ・Julian Lynch / Terra (2011, used LP) ・John Hughes / Scarlet Diva - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2000, used LP) ・The Silver Apples / Fractal Flow/Lovefingers (1996, used 7inch) ・Harvie Swartz / Underneath It All (1982, used LP) 15(sun) ・中尾勘二 / Record of Recording 1967-1978 (2022, CD-R) ・中尾勘二 / My Orver Dubbing Life 2019-2022 (2022, CD-R) 20(fri) ・David Byrne / Music For The Knee Plays (1985, used LP) ・Blood, Sweat & Tears / Lisa, Listen to Me (1971, used 7inch) ・The Firehouse 5 Plus 2 / The Firehouse Five Story, Vol. 1 (1955, used 4x7inch) 21(sat) ・Esperanza de OTO 音のエスペランサ (2013, used LP) ・The King Of Luxembourg / "Sir" (1988, used LP) ・Mama Cass / Mama's Big Ones: Her Greatest Hits (1970, used LP) 23(mon) ・Vicktor Taiwò / Joy Comes in Spirit (2018, used 2LP) ・Chick Corea, Miroslav Vitous, Roy Haynes / Trio Music (1982, used 2LP) ・Carmine Appice / Carmine Appice (1981, used LP) ・Nat Adderley / You, Baby (1968, used LP) ・The Monkees / Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd. (1967, used LP) 24(tue) ・Justin Wright / A Really Good Spot (2022, used LP) 28(sat) ・Professor Brian Oblivion / The Dark Realities of the Moment (2011, used LP) ・Beneath Fire & Smoke / The Iceberg Waltz (2007, used 10inch) ・Sukpatch / Honky-Tonk Operation E.P. (1998, used 12inch) 29(sun) ・Errol's Compilation (2002, used 2x10inch) ・Chari Chari / Keep on Flowin' EP (1998, used 12inch) ・(Garden Of Delights Presents...) Seek Refuge... (From Your Intolerable Situation) (1995, used LP) ・The Helicopters / The Helicopters (1984, used LP) ・Manos Hadjidakis / Never On Sunday (Original Sound Track Music) (1960, used LP)

[larryneilson37]

What I'm listening to right now

And When I Die (Single Version) by Blood Sweat & Tears, on the album: Greatest Hits

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Space Mark where he breaks down about the Captain having a scar on their hand from where he ripped the crystal and getting a concussion from when he hit their head with the canister

"Woah. Sick scar, cap. Where’d you get that from?”

Mark felt himself breaking out into a cold sweat upon seeing the large scar etched into your palm. You had taken your glove off as the material was itching it, but even you were surprised at how big the scar turned out to be.

And how it left the imprint of the warp crystal.

Not realizing how clammy he looked, you just told Gunther, Burt, and Celci a made-up story of where you got it from, throwing out whatever bizarre details your beautiful brain could cook up in that moment. While the group of leads gasped and sat in awe at the tale, only one remained completely silent.

The only one who knew the truth, because he was the cause.

Memories of what he did at the warp core came back to haunt him once again, as he remembers how cold and cruel he was to you. He ripped the crystal out of your hand with a pair of pliers like it was nothing, assuming it was just on your glove.

How did he miss your winces of agony and shock?

How did he miss the blood that dropped on the floor?

How did he..not realize how much pain he caused you?

As if that wasn’t already a bad reminder, you suddenly lost focus on where you were in the story, looking dazed as you held your head and shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing a particular spot on your temple.

The spot where he struck you with the canister upon entering the warp core. 

It left yet another crack in your helmet, sending you tumbling to the ground and rattling your skull. So even with that protection, it still managed to give you a-

“That concussion still not going away, cap?” Celci slid an ice pack over to you. “You’ve had it for a few days, haven’t you?”

“Yeah..thank you, CC. I..just wish I could remember where I left off.” You muttered as you held it against your head. “Ironic how a helmet’s supposed to prevent this. Guess I’ve taken quite a beating on this trip.”

Burt comforted you with something poetic about how “difficult journeys often yield the greatest rewards”, though Mark tuned that out, sitting there in numbing realization and guilt:

He gave you a goddamn concussion. He affected your ability to lead, make decisions, and hold simple conversations.

He nearly compromised your very duty as Captain.

And for what? Because he thought you were some monster who wanted to end all of existence?

No..he was the monster all along. The one who punished you for his wrongdoings. 

What was a monster like him doing at this table? 

“Hey, asshat.” Celci spoke up, nudging Mark’s arm in a playful way. He flinched and looked at her. “Some little birdie told me you and Cap are finally together. How did you manage that?”

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Gunther huffed as he leaned his elbows on the table. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Indeed,” Burt nodded. “We don’t mean to pry, but we can’t help but be curious. How has your love unfolded-?”

“E-Everyone...I...” Mark looked to you for a brief moment, his eyes flickering to the scar, before he abruptly got up. “I’ll tell you later....I..gotta take a walk.” Then he left the table without another word. He felt his throat tightening up, eyes burning with tears.

He couldn’t face anyone like this.

Especially not you.

Concerned, you set down the ice pack and followed him, leaving your other three crewmembers confused.

..........

On the ground of the new planet, you arrived at your home. Knowing how often Mark visited, you only expected him to be here. A man like him was easy to predict...to a degree.

“Mark?” You called out as you entered through the automatic doors, wondering where he could possibly be. It wasn’t too big of a house, so it shouldn’t take long to find him.

However, you heard the sounds of sniffles and light sobbing coming from your bedroom. Your heart melted as you knew exactly what he was upset about, but you didn’t know it was taking this kind of toll on him.

Pushing the door open, you saw your lover curled up on the bed, face buried in his knees and his hands in his hair, crying his heart out. He assumed he was all alone until he felt the mattress shift weight, and he looked up to see you now sitting beside him.

“Mark, honey..”

With red, puffy eyes trailing to your scarred palm, he whimpered as he slowly reached a hand out. Then he paused, his eyes flickering back to yours as a silent request for permission.

You nodded and allowed him to take your hand, breaths still shaky as he lightly rubbed his thumb over the tissue, tears freely falling.

He regrets all of it.

The way he attacked you and screamed at you...god, he wanted to take it all back. He wouldn’t care if you did the same to him as payback. It would be much deserved after the hell he put you and everyone through.

Especially you, now that you have a permanent reminder of that.

Who does this to someone they love? Who fought across timelines to find him?

He pressed a kiss against your palm, only to shudder with sobs as he felt a thumb stroking his beard. Bringing your hand to the side of his face, you gently lifted his head up to meet your gaze. He looked so broken. “C-Cap..I..”

Yet all he could do was collapse against you and sob into your shoulder as you brought him into a hug. He tried closing the distance between you two as much as possible. His chest trembled, struggling not to hyperventilate at the crushing reality of what he did to you.

"O-Oh god, I didn’t m-mean...I...god, what have I done..!!”

“Mark, breathe..just breathe.” You ran a hand through his black hair, hushing him and rocking him slightly. “I know you didn’t mean to. You were angry. There were misunderstandings. It’s alright now. I’m gonna be okay. This scar will go away..and my concussion will, too."

“How can..y-you be okay with me making mistake..a-after mistake..after goddamn mistake?! You..should’ve told them what happened.”

“Why would I ever wanna do that?”

“..th-they already hate me. Might as well give them something else to hate..l-like how I attacked their captain.”

“Wha..Mark.” You pulled away slightly with a frown, tucking a fringe of his hair behind his ear. “Nobody hates you-”

“Bullshit. You heard e-everything they said! I’m stupid, incompetent, a-annoying...hell, every alien we met called me ugly, remember?” He forced out a laugh, sniffling as he bowed his head. “I-I’m just as ugly inside as I am outside-”

“Stop it.” You cupped his face with both of your hands, making him look at you. “You’re not ugly or stupid. Not to me.” Gently, you thumbed away the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

“But I-I was stupid enough to give you that scar and hit you with an extinguisher..”

“We all make dumb decisions from time to time.”

"Those..w-were the worst ones I ever made. I thought..y-you’d hate me after seeing that scar. The face you made when you saw it, and the way you looked at me after that...I-I just...I thought...”

“I was shocked, yes. But I’m not angry about it.”

“You’re not? Not even a little?” His eyebrows slightly furrowed with confusion. “B-But..it’ll remind you of how much I hurt you-”

“That’s not how I wanna remember it. If anything..I want it to remind me of how much I love you. Of how many timelines I went through just to find you..and how we fixed this together.” You softly smiled. “You’re a good man, Mark. And I love you so, so much. I don’t want you to ever doubt that, okay? Mistakes can be made, be it one or a million. I don’t care. No amount of them can ever make me hate you.”

The engineer’s shaky breaths slowly calmed down as he smiled in return, putting a hand over your own. No words could express how grateful he was to have you in his life. To have someone who never gave up on him even after you were blamed for all of his mistakes.

“Th-Thank you, ca--[y/n]...god, I love you, too.”

You nodded, pulling him into a tender kiss, feeling the salt from his tears. But at least they stopped falling at last. It broke your heart to see him retreat here just to cry alone, fearing that he ruined things between you both.

Yet nothing was ruined. Not one bit. If anything, this made your bond the strongest it’s ever been.

After sharing the kiss, both of you were breathless but happy. Smiles remained on your faces as you kicked off the boots, laying down on the bed and holding one another closely. Mark sighed as he nuzzled your chest, exhausted from his emotional meltdown yet relieved to still be in your arms.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the universe but here.