#I doubt she has deleted my number so she's most likely going to recognize the contact djdjd

[damnprecious]

My side job boss is going to add me to a work group chat with people from my old job. I'm going to be giving instructions to the people from my old job. Why is this my life fjfjfkd

[goodbuckcharlie]

I made it | Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack was Lucy’s first love, they dated in high school but broke up when Jack left for the NHL. After a long debate with a certain older Hughes brother, Lucy decided to invite Jack to her broadway debut, but she didn’t expect him to actually show up.

Warnings: cussing

Notes: well I know I said I would work on the Cole story but I’m kinda stuck rn and this idea came to me. It’s a little shorter than I hoped but I think this one may be my favorite. Also italics means it’s a flash back

Lucy doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She just got the news that she landed her dream role as Elphaba on broadway. Her high school dream just in arms reach. Her thumb floats over his caller id.

Jacky💕

She never had the heart to delete his contact. Not even the guts to change his name. Despite him breaking her heart, he was the one who supported her dreams the most.

It was opening night of her Senior musical. The school musical was Shrek and Lucy was playing Fiona. She kept looking in the crowd, hoping to see a glimpse of her parents, but every time she looked she slowly lost hope. But that dread was quickly replaced with joy as she saw her boyfriend and his family take their seats in the front row. Ellen and Jim were dressed up nice, Jack was dressed nice as well, but his hair definitely shows that he just got out of the shower after practice. Luke on the other hand, let’s just say Lucy was just happy he was there.

At the end of the performance, as she took her bow, Jack was cheering for her so loud that you would have thought he was at a sporting event. Lucy couldn’t help, but blush. Well as much blushing she can do under her green face paint.

Once the curtains close, Lucy rushes out of her costume to see Jack as soon as possible. When she leaves the theater room, she is greeted by Jack holding a bouquet of sunflowers, her favorite flowers.

“You came!!” She pulls Jack into a hug who quickly saved the flowers from being smushed by raising them above his head. He laughs at her excitement.

“Of course I made it.” He kisses her forehead before looking in her eyes, “I’m your number one fan.”

She couldn’t bring herself to call him, but part of her knew she needed to tell someone from that time of her life.

“Hello, who is this?” Of course he didn’t have her number saved.

“This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have called.” She goes to hang up, but luckily, Quinn recognizes her voice.

“Lucy?! What’s wrong?” She takes a deep breath, before talking to Quinn.

“I’m sorry to bother you Quinn, I just need to tell someone , but I couldn’t bring myself to call him, not after how we left things off.” Lucy holds in her tears.

“Hey you may not be with him anymore, but you are still like a little sister to me.” Quinn’s words brought comfort to Lucy, calming her down. “You can always talk to me.”

One last deep breath, Lucy lets it all go. “Quinn, I’m going to be on broadway.”

“Wait for real!? This is amazing Lulu.”She smiles at the use of the nickname she hasn’t heard for a long time. “What date is opening night, I’ll totally buy a ticket to see it.”

“March 6th, but I already checked your schedule, and you are busy Mr. Captain.” Since this was the first time she talked to Quinn since the break up, it’s the first time she has called him captain. “But it would be knowing someone in the crowd was there for me, besides my brother.”

“You know someone who doesn’t play that day and would drop anything to see you.” She knows exact who she’s talking about.

“No Quinn, I doubt Jack wants to see me after 5 years. He has better things to do.” She still can’t believe it has been this long. “He was the one who broke up with me remember?”

“He misses you Lulu.” She shakes her head in disbelief. She’s seen Jack’s public life, he’s dated other girls, he’s out partying with his friends on the off season, and most importantly he is being successful in the NHL. “You have no idea how many time I’ve been on phone with Jack basically having this exact conversation. Every important game he calls me asking if he should invite you. I always tell him yes, but evidently he never goes through with it.”

“I’ve actually been to a few games believe it or not, last game I went to was the infamous Hughes bowl.” She couldn’t afford the lower bowl seats, but even in the nose bleeds she was supporting Jack, the Hughes brothers.

“Never let Jack know that, he’ll get so upset that you paid to watch him play. Knowing him he would try and figure out how much you spent in total, then would pay you back.” She laughs knowing that would exactly what Jack would do.

“He would also get mad if he knew I bought my own jersey.” She looks over in her closet and sees her number 86 Devils jersey that almost taunts her. “I wear it every game day.”

The two are silent for a little bit before Quinn speaks up. “What if I buy Jack a ticket and send it to him. I won’t tell him about this conversation. He can decide for himself if he goes or not but I can guarantee once he sees that you are performing, he will drop everything to see you.”

“I can’t tell you what to do with your money Quinn , but I can ask that you don’t waste your money.”

“How about this, we make a bet, the Lucy I remember always loved a good bet,” Lucy was very competitive in high school (she still is competitive but she would never tell anyone about that) “If Jack goes, you have to give him another chance . If he doesn’t go, I will never bother you about Jack again.”

“You know what you have a deal.” After making the deal, the two stay on the phone catching up for an hour. They talk about how the team is doing, how Ellen and Jim are and how much they also miss Lucy. They also talked about how Lucy got the role. Overall, Lucy was just glad to talk to one of the Hughes again.

During his lunch time the next day, Jack got a text from Quinn.

Qball- Don’t fuck it up this time.

There was a link attached. So out of curiosity, Jack opened the link and saw it was a ticket to see Wicked on broadway. He immediately send Quinn a text back questioning what he means.

Qball- Look up the cast idiot.

Jack looks up the cast after he rolls his eyes at his brother. But when he saw Lucy’s name in big letter next to Elphaba, his heart feels like it stopped.

Qball- she wants you to go, but was too scared to ask you herself.

Jack😎- It’s been so long, what would I even say to her when I saw her?

Qball- the truth. You love her Jack and I can’t guarantee she feels the same but she does deserve the closure you never gave her.

Jack😎- after all this time maybe it’s best if I just left her alone.

Qball- I can’t make you go but if you don’t please at least give the ticket to Luke or even mom. Lucy deserves to have someone there to support her.

Jack😎- I’ll think about it, but thanks for letting me know.

Jack let’s put a groan and puts his head down trying to think.

“What’s up with him?” Jack forgot that he was with his team mates but he quite frankly didn’t care. Not even as Luke grabs his phone.

“Oh shit is this for real.” Jack groans again. “Damn dude Lucy looks hot as fuck.”

Jack’s head shoots up and he glares at Luke.

“What, on the cast list there’s a link to her Instagram. And I’m just stating facts look.” Luke hands Jack back his phone and he sees that Luke was right. Lucy had gotten rid of her braces and glasses which he also found adorable, but there was something about her matured look that made Jack awe struck.

“Who’s Lucy?” Nico asks looking over Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack’s high school sweetheart.” Luke says looking Lucy up on Instagram on his own phone. “Jack was an asshole and dumped her when he got drafted. He legit dumped her over text.”

“That was 5 years ago asshole.” Jack mutters

“She’s really talented.” Jack was playing a clip that she posted of her singing and everyone could hear it. “You really fumbled the bag dude.”

“You think she’s single?” John says while Luke showed him pictures of Lucy. “If so you think you could put in a good word for me?”

“Fuck off.” Jack feels himself getting angry but he doesn’t understand why, Lucy was no longer his, and he lost his right to get over protective of her years ago. He storms off out of the living room out to his room m. Luke follows him.

“Come on Jack, you have no right to be upset.” Jack knows Luke is right but he pouts anyways. “So what are you going to do about that ticket?”

“Maybe mom should go, you know how much she misses Lucy.” Jack says looking at a photo that Lucy posted for her birthday. It was a picture of her in high school laughing. Jack was cropped out of the photo but he can still picture the memory in his head.

“Did you not read what Quinn said?” Luk sits down next to Jack. “She wants you there Jack. She wants your support. Don’t you at least think she deserves that?”

“I do support her and she deserves all the support in the world, but she also deserves better than me.” Jack hold back his tears in front of his brother. “I remember the text her brother sent me. The day I broke up with her, I blocked her so I couldn’t see her response. A hour later, Carson texted me telling me that I would never find anyone better than Lucy and that I would have to watch in regret as his big sister became a star. Harshest words I’ve ever heard from an 11 year old.”

Both brothers laugh as the remember Carson, who actually looked up to Jack until the break up. Luke remembers being told to fuck off by the 11 year old, when he tried reaching out to Lucy after the break up.

“I thought in that moment, he was right. I still think he is right, I don’t deserve to walk back into her life now that it’s more convenient for me.” Jack looks at his desk where he keeps a picture of Lucy and his family after her first musical during their freshmen year.

“Yeah maybe you don’t deserve her after what you did, but there is no denying the love you two shared.”Luke puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder before continuing, “I’m not the best at advice so I’m just going to repeat what Quinn said that she deserves closure.”

“I just want her to be happy, Luke.” Jack cries as Luke holds his older brother.

A few months later and a lot of hard work, it was finally time for opening night. After hours in the makeup chair, Lucy was as ready as she’ll ever be.

As she is waiting to go on she can’t help, but think of Jack.

The two were sitting in Jack’s room as they often did. As long as they had the door open per Ellen’s request. They were watching a movie on Jack’s computer as the cuddled under the sheets.Lucy was able to convince Jack to watch Wizard of oz.

“So you are telling me there is a musical where the pink witch and the evil witch are best friends and it’s about how the evil witch becomes evil?”

“Yes and it’s considered to be one of the greatest musicals of all times.” Lucy turns and faces Jack, “One day, I’ll be that evil witch. Although her name is Elphaba.”

“And I’ll be in the crowd cheering you on.” Jack smiles before kissing her cheek, “plus you’ll be the hottest green chick ever.”

Lucy laughs to herself before it’s show time. She seriously doubted Quinn’s plan, but she wasn’t going to let Jack’s absence ruin her night. Because at the end of the day, her little brother was there and that’s all she needed.

Speaking of Carson, he was sat in the orchestra seating, Lucy wanted to get him front row seats but he knew how die hard wicked fans are so he said he was fine where ever he sat as long as he could see her. Carson also brought his girlfriend who just like Lucy was into Musical theatre. Lucy never told Carson this, but his relationship reminded her so much of hers and Jack’s relationship at their age.

Carson and his girlfriend, Macy, were quietly talking during the intermission when Carson realized who was sat a seat away from Macy.

Jack Hughes.

Carson got silent and Macy noticed as well. Of course Macy knew who Jack Hughes was and she also knew about the ‘asshole nhl player the broke Lucy’s heart.’ And with Jack’s appearance tonight and Carson’s reaction, the girl put one and one together. She grabs onto Carson’s hand to comfort him before the house lights dimmed signaling the end of the intermission.

At the end of the performance, it was time for final bows. When it’s Lucy’s turn to bow the crowd and cast all go wild in applause. Lucy looks for her brother and Macy in the crowd but gasps when she locks eyes with Jack Hughes.

Jack is standing up while he cheers her on. She sees Carson who is three seats away. Carson glares at Jack while cheering on Lucy and she hide her laughter at the sight .

When the curtains close and Lucy’s costars all ambush her in hugs, Macy prepares for the worse. Carson goes over to Jack who hasn’t noticed him yet.

“Car don’t do anything stupid.” Carson just ignores her and he taps on Jacks shoulder.

Carson looks very different from what he did when he was 11. He now had a mullet and an eyebrow piercing (one that his friend did in his garage one day much to Lucy’s disapproval). But he was also now 6’0 and had a scarier demeanor. Honestly Jack was only able to recognize him from a photo Lucy had posted on her instagram. Jack goes to say something but Carson holds his hand up.

“Save it, as much as I never wanted to see you ever again, she wants you here so I respect that you came.” Carson softly grabs Macy’s hand, “we are going to the stage exit to go meet up with her. She takes 20 minutes to get out of all her makeup and costume. If you finally want to act like a man and treat my sister like she deserves you are welcome to join us, but if you are only here cause your latest one night stand stood you up or something like that, don’t waste her time and go back to Jersey.”

Jack is stunned as Carson and Macy walk away, but he quickly regains his composure and follows after them. While waiting outside, Jack watches the couple interact. He sees grumpy Carson and his happy girlfriend who is trying to calm him down. He smiles as he remembers how grumpy he got after a bad practice or a bad game and how Lucy would cheer him up.

Actors and actresses leave one by one until it’s time for Lucy. She is radiant as she greets fans and signs playbills. At the end of the group of fans was where Carson ,Macy and Jack stood. When she finally gets to Jack she couldn’t look away.

Carson pulls her out of her trance by hugging her. Macy joins making it a group hug. The teens hold on for a second before letting Lucy go.

“You did amazing out there.” Macy was always star struck at Lucy’s talents, reminiscent of how Carson idolized Jack.

“We are going to head home, I’ll drive your car.” Carson says grabbing Lucy’s car key. He then looks at Jack and then back at Lucy, “Don’t do anything stupid, but also don’t be afraid to give him another chance. I hate to say this, but I always like how happy he made you.”

“Thanks Car.” She leans up and kisses her brother’s forehead before he turns to Jack.

“Don’t fuck this shit up. Break her heart again and I’ll put your ass on the long term injury list.” Jack nods as Macy pulls Carson away.

“Damn when did he get scary?” Jack and Lucy laugh. When the laughter dies down, she looks at Jack with the same adoration she had for him when they were kids.

“You came.” Finally she hugs him, after many years yearning for his warmth.

“Of course I made it.” He says returning the hug. “I so told you that you would be the hottest green chick.”

Playfully she shoves Jack who just laughs. To get away from the crowd they walk to Jack’s car and on the walk they catch up.

“So Carson lives out here now?” Jack recalls Carson saying that he was going home earlier.

“Yeah I got custody of him about a year ago. Mom passed away shortly after you left and dad just got worse. It was no place for him, so I took my dad to court.” She shivers slightly so Jack gives her his jacket before she continues her story. “I have no idea what I’m doing raising a 16 year old, luckily my neighbor helped me out and now Carson is dating their daughter Macy.”

“You know from the small interactions I saw them have, they remind me of us.” Jack test the waters and holds her hand, which she gladly accepts, “Speaking about brothers, Luke and Quinn miss you.”

“How about you Jack, did you miss me?”

“More than anything.”

Jack opens the car door for Lucy and helps her get in before he got into the driver side.

“So miss Broadway do you have any plans tonight or can I take you out to eat?” Jack says while putting his seatbelt on.

“ I have no plans Mr NHL.But if we are going out I need time order delivery for Carson and Macy” Jack pulls out his credit card from his wallet.

“Use my card.” She tries to decline his card, but he shakes his head, “Lucy it’s the least I could do.”

She sighs before calling Macy to ask what they want for dinner. After she got the response, Lucy went and ordered food for the teens. She tried to enter her card, but Jack snatched her phone and entered his card instead.

“So now that, that’s take care of. Would you like to go out to dinner?” He hands her the phone back.

“You know I could really go for a good burger and fries, that’s if your professional team of dietitians would allow that.” Jack smiles remembering one of his favorite dates with her.

Jack had just gotten his license and he was driving around in Quinn’s hand me down car. Right after passing his drivers test, he drove straight to Lucy’s house.

“So where does the princess want to go?” Jack asked as she got into the car.

“You know I could really go for a burger and fries.” She gets into her seat and Jack takes her to their favorite local diner.

When they arrive, the host seats them at their favorite table. While they wait for their food, Lucy tells Jack about her day.

“And in front of everyone my voice cracked, god it was so embarrassing, Jacky.” She hides her face at the memory.

“I bet you have the cutest voice cracks.” The love struck boy laughs as his girl rolls her eyes at him.

“No voice cracks are cute Jacky.”

“Well yours are cause they come from you.” Their food finally arrives and they both grab a fry off the other person’s plate. Something they have done since they started dating. They called it ‘checking for poison’ but it was just one of those silly couple things.

“I love these little moments.” Lucy says as she bites into Jack’s fry.

“Well we have a whole lifetime full of little moments waiting for us.” He says while eating Lucy’s fry.

“A burger and fries sound wonderful, Lulu.”

The two had dinner and it was like nothing changed. They shared food like normal, they talked like it was just a normal Wednesday dinner.

They finished their food and were getting ready to head out and of course Jack paid. Afterwards the two sit in Jack’s car, which was another thing they did often when they dated.

“You’re telling me that Carson became an islander fan after everything happened?” Jack chuckles at Carson’s pettiness.

“Yeah, he even forced me to take him to a game, where we met a few of the players.” She pulls up a picture they took where Carson was wearing a islander jersey and Lucy was just in a normal sweater as they stood next to a couple players, “One of the guys actually asked for my number.”

“Which guy?” Jack felt himself getting jealous.

“Oh Jacky I don’t even remember.” Of course she did after all she did give him her number. But she looks away from Jack. “Even if I did it was a year ago Jack.”

“You obviously do remember, you won’t look at me right now.” Jack doesn’t mean to be sassy towards Lucy, but let’s be honest, being sassy is in his dna.

“Why does it matter Jack? You’ve had other girlfriends why couldn’t I date someone else?” Lucy tries not to cry, but a few tears slip out, “Do you know how hard it was to watch you have other girlfriends while I stayed stuck on you. Yes I did give the Islander player my number, but I told him I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I told every guy that had any interest in me that I wasn’t interested. You want to know why Jack? Because they weren’t you.”

Jack stayed silent not knowing what to say.

“And now you just come back here like you didn’t single handed break my heart last time I saw you,. Oh wait I didn’t even see you when it happened did I Jack.” She cries some more finally letting all of her emotions out. “I should hate you, I really should. But tell me why I feel nothing but love for you.”

“Lucy, there is nothing I regret more than, breaking up with you. I was a coward, but please give me another chance.” He wipes away her tears, “Those girls were my failed attempts on forgetting you, but nothing worked. I know I don’t deserve it but please give me a second chance.”

“I don’t know Jack, I don’t want to promise you anything. But I can say, I’m willing to try again slowly.” Jack smiles and he holds her hand. 

“That’s all I could ask for.”

Between hockey games and Lucy’s shows, the two spent any free time together. Despite the busy schedules, they found the time to go out. Tonight, Lucy was singing the national anthem at Jack’s game versus the Islanders.

“Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome the star of broadway’s Wicked, Lucy Masters, with the singing of our national Anthem.”

The crowd cheers before getting silent for Lucy. She sings beautifully and when she hits the high note at the end, the crowd went wild. The song finishes, and she finally locks eyes with Jack. She gives him a little wave before she is ushered off the ice.

At the end of the game, the devils won 4-0. Carson ,who surprisingly wore a Hughes 43 jersey instead of his regular Islander Barzal 13 Jersey, was hyped by the win. He went into a rant as the pair waited for Jack to leave the locker room.

“Damn I miss hockey.” Lucy loves seeing Carson happy more than anything. She was glad that he decided to come, seeing it as a step in the right direction.

“You know if you aren’t too rusty at it, we can go shoot the puck together one day.” Both Lucy and Carson look over and see Jack. He pulls Lucy into a hug. “Hands down the best performance of the night goes to you Miss Lucy.”

“I am not so sure about that, a shut out game and both you and Timo getting two points? Much more impressive.” Lucy praises Jack causing Carson to gag.

“Come on Carson, let’s leave the lovers alone.” Luke comes out of nowhere and directs Carson towards his car. Lucy and Carson were spending the night at Jack and Luke’s place so they didn’t have to drive back to New York this late. So Luke was okay with driving Carson back while Jack and Lucy have a car to themselves. Carson leaves with Luke, but not until he sent a few menacing glares at Jack.

“Just so you know, the team chirped the hell out of me when Luke told them how scared I am of Carson.” To be fair, now that Carson is one of the best high school prospects of the 2025 class and has scouts coming to almost every game now, especially since he is a leftie, he’s a scary teenager.

“In your defense, his pitch is reaching an average of 88 miles per hour as a junior. I would be scared of him too.” Jack looks at Lucy and smiles as he sees her in his jersey.

“You look so good in my number.” He steps back and acts like he is taking a photo of her with an invisible camera, “Picture perfect baby.”

“Jacky you are such a dork.”She turns around and walks away while smiling. Jack runs up behind her and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ll gladly be a dork if that means I’m your dork.”

Jack had been miserable as Lucy was gone at a two week long theater camp. Luke thought if Lucy didn’t get home soon, Quinn would kill Jack. The day she was coming back, Jack sat by the door waiting for Ellen to come back with Lucy. He originally wanted to come with but he forgot to finish his chores the night before so Ellen made him stay home and wait.

When his mom’s car pulls in to the driveway, Jack bolts out the door, almost like a wild animal. Lucy gets out of the car and Jack tackles her in a hug. He gives her small kisses all over her face.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” Jack repeats this mantra as Lucy struggles to wiggle out of his hold. All the while, Lucy is dying of laughter.

“Get off me you dork.” It takes Quinn pulling Jack off to get Lucy free. He then picks up Lucy like a sack of potatoes and runs away from Jack. The boys run around, as Jack tries to get Lucy back.

“Quinn put the poor girl down.” Ellen calls out. Quinn puts Lucy down carefully and Jack runs over and grabs on to Lucy like a kid hold their favorite toy.

“Fear not fair damsel, your hero has saved you from the ugly ass troll.” (QUINN BABY DON’T LISTEN TO THIS YOU ARE VERY PRETTY) Quinn just flips off his brother before heading back into the house, “I think your hero deserves a kiss for saving you.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, you dork.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Jack can’t help but smile.

“I may be a dork, but I’m your dork.”

“You’ll always be my dork Jacky.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Their first kiss in five years. Jack would freeze time and live in this moment forever if he could. Sadly time has to go on and the pair pull apart. “Let’s go home Jacky.”

Hand in hand, they leave the arena, full of hope for the future of their relationship.

[levmada]

Thank you for responding!

I just remembered another question, you may have broached this topic as well, but I've seen a couple posts floating around that suggest Levi is (on some levels) illiterate.

Personally I don't think current canon Levi is illiterate, but what about Levi in the Underground? There's manga evidence (I believe) that he was at least somewhat exposed to reading (I think I saw a photo of him with Isabel and Furlan with a bookshelf in the background..??).

I can't imagine Kenny advocating for reading when learning survival tactics would be more important by his standards. I think the ability to read is something else that connects Levi to his mother (I haven't see much of anything that would suggest she was a reader), or it was simply a roundabout way of learning another survival skill? ("Knowledge is power"? I.e. having more power over his fate/current situation).

Some of these posts go on to assume the illiteracy spills over into how he writes reports (and that supposedly Hange has to either help him or redo them entirely)

I was curious about how you believe Levi would've approached literacy in his early years.

ugh i’ve gone back and forth on this a couple times😩😩in most of my fics, levi is illiterate when he reaches the surface.

at least, as captain, we know there’s NO WAY he’s illiterate in the present. (and besides, he's seen reading the newspaper in s3 at the end of the uprising. and the labels/books in the basement later).

for a canon reference, it’s said in a smartpass that levi diligently practices his handwriting so that no one knows he’s from the underground. that he has “newspaper level” handwriting. he gets defensive towards Petra when she compliments it😭

you’re absolutely right about the backgrounds. here’s some examples:

clearly farlan knew what he was doing at least😭😭both in the anime and manga, it’s eluded to that farlan is like the ‘co-leader’ that takes care of the money and logistics side of things.

it’s not clear whether levi touches any of that. he IS good (at least competent?) at math though, again like farlan; he did a bit of complex addition in a few seconds.

(sorry i’m just taking the opportunity to post acwnr panels atp…)

math is definitely more important than reading and writing in the underground right? i think the bare minimum reading ability would’ve rubbed off on levi.

KENNY however most definitely didn’t concern levi with that. i mean…😭

i’ve never heard or seen anything connecting kuchel to reading?? pls lmk where you heard that if you don’t mind!! i’m curious.

anyway, it’s canon that levi “learned many things” from erwin around this time of which i must imagine had to do with desk work, knowing levi’s life up to then.

(the account associated with that info has, frustratingly, been deleted since i posted it. i’ll go looking if anyone wants the source)

i’ve never heard the tidbit about hange helping levi with his reports either.

i severely doubt it's real. there’s so many “”””facts”””” out there in the aot fandom, recently i made a long post debunking many and after days of research it’s RLY begun to grind my gears. why can’t this fandom be normal😭that ‘fact’ also sounds like it has shipping reasons behind it, like many others…

anyway, all that said, i do think he was on some level illiterate before reaching the surface.

it’s a mystery for now… but i don’t think kuchel knew how to read. kenny didn’t teach him because it paled in comparison in importance compared to fighting, his image, and so on. if levi could recognize letters grouped together, for instance the names of bars, that was enough.

he picked up on basic math along the way, until farlan came along and it became very important to understand numbers - especially as far as income goes. if not for the sake of the, uh, business levi/farlan were running, in the anime, they were saving up money to go live on the surface with.

((((personal hc but)))) despite his talents, shadis never so much as promoted levi to squad leader during his time as commander. he was too stubborn and stuck in his ways, unable to get past the fact that levi was a thug, and yet had more skill than even their strongest soldier (mike).

when erwin was promoted from captain to commander, he gave levi his position immediately. (which honestly pissed levi off, since he didn’t like the idea of having the lives of a personal squad on his hands…. besides the reading and writing issue.)

erwin would go on to teach levi how to read and write, which levi would go on to master on his own. levi, it seems to me, is the type of person who masters everything he tries, and so with practice and determination, he learns quickly….

you can definitely say he overcompensates because he hates for people to know he’s from the underground. not because of the insults personally, but because it would hurt the SC’s image if captain levi was found out to be a thug before, yk?

that’s my take :)

[tundrainafrica]

that moment when you realize levi's last memory of hanji was her laughing - her last laugh. oh and levi would never have a body to bury. Also, I was wondering if you have done an analysis of the solute that levi did - you know keeping his hand over her heart. I personally headcannon that levi meant hanji to give her heart to him, to be his and that's why he kept his fist over her heart. (sorry if it sounds cheesy lmao)

OKAY SO WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF CH. 132 AGAIN. So imma assume you guys really wanna hurt yourselves more so allow me to drop this really amazing animation of 132 which really captures Hange and Levi’s facial expressions well along with a lot of symbolisms about Hange so please, even if you’re not gonna read the whole meta I have down under. Please watch it. You won’t regret it. It’s beautiful. Here’s the link (The lyrics are good too, so I’d recommend you check the English translation out, the second verse all the way to the chorus, it really fits.)

that moment when you realize levi's last memory of hanji was her laughing - her last laugh. oh and levi would never have a body to bury. 

How are you so sure that Hange’s last memory was her smiling and laughing?

I actually like to entertain the possibility that Hange and Levi made an extremely conscious effort to avoid looking at each other, especially in the eyes. Why is that?

Maybe, the scene in 126 was that much of a profound scene relationship wise that they couldn’t look at each other after that? But I can’t help but think the Levi and Hange’s dynamics were particularly distant in 132? Especially if you compare it to just a few chapters ago where Hange couldn’t even leave him right? Like she was always next to him on his sleeping bag. 

That’s why I really hc-ed that maybe when she was changing his bandages, particularly removing the ones covering his mouth, they had a conversation. And I wrote out my take on it in this fic.

There are just way too many panels about them talking about so many deep things and in all of them they’re looking away from each other.

You can say, towards the last panels, of course he’s not looking at her, he knows she’s going to sacrifice herself, why put her to the pain?

And even the dedicate your heart scene right? He wasn’t looking at her. 

So the point is, do you really think his last memory of her was her smile? 

And was it really her laugh? Personally, when I see people smile, I don’t look at their mouths, I look at their eyes. I’m an eyes person. I think eyes talk more than someone’s mouth. 

And Hange wasn’t smiling at all, look at those eyes.

And do we really count a ‘haha’ as a laugh :’). Do you think Levi... who has seen Hange laugh so many times before, and had seen that same wonder in her eyes before and how she constantly smiles with both her eyes and her mouth, do you think Levi would have counted that as a laugh?

Anyway, I like to headcanon the last clear vivid memory Levi had of her was when she was changing his bandages back in the ship. They were avoiding each othe rtoo much, Levi was really avoiding looking at her this whole chapter and I really suspect there was a deleted scene, a conversation in the ship which changed their whole dynamic in that chapter before Hange chose to sacrifice herself. 

Anyway, moving on to the next question:  

Also, I was wondering if you have done an analysis of the salute that levi did - you know keeping his hand over her heart. I personally headcannon that levi meant hanji to give her heart to him, to be his and that's why he kept his fist over her heart. (sorry if it sounds cheesy lmao)

Omg, that is such a cute headcanon I didn’t think about. Thank you for sharing that <3 I’ll add that to my own personal list of headcanons that I’ll be sharing below. 

Before I move on to sharing it, I just have to say: 

I love the original Japanese translation.

For most western languages, you have to mention the “your” in Dedicate your heart because it just doesn’t flow well to say “dedicate heart” nor would it be consistent with Erwin’s iconic statement being constantly translated to “Dedicate your heart” suddenly being translated to “Dedicate heart” which is wrong grammar anyway. 

With 心臓を捧げよう, we only know there is an unspecified number of hearts which are to be dedicated. 

So Levi’s message could be translated to either “Dedicate your heart.” or even “Let’s dedicate our hearts”

So as a Levihan shipper I could headcanon this in so many ways. 

1. I’ll drop the vanilla one first.  “Dedicate your heart” okay Hange while sacrificing yourself, make sure to dedicate your heart okay, fight to your heart’s content, which is the most conventional interpretation. 

2. The next one is: Let’s dedicate our hearts. This could mean that he feels the war is reaching it’s climax and if she’s ready to die, Levi is willing to join her soon and he will dedicate his heart the same way. Since Japanese tenses in relation to time aren’t specified and future tense doesn’t exist in Japanese, it makes it vague enough to even foreshadow Levi’s own intentions to really dedicate his heart like his own comrades did. And the fact that Levi said see you later Hange? That only supports this headcanon. 

3. Another head canon I have is Levi figuratively left his heart with her with that salute and in that moment, maybe he was talking to himself when he decided to dedicate his heart to her. With that dedication and with Hange’s impending sacrifice, Levi showed his readiness to lose his heart and have it die with her. 

4. This is actually an analysis I read a while back from a Japanese website I’ll leave the link below and it’s definitely one of my favorites for this scene. 

So to summarize the analysis, the Japanese fans see it as a symbolism of unity for Hange and Levi. 

Remember Hange was betrayed by the Jaegerists a few chapters back probably less than a few days ago manga time. Hange is one of the few people who have this idea that what Eren is doing is wrong, the violence, the rumbling. And with Zeke, Flock and Yelena all explicitly disagreeing with her, she was living with this idea that she was doing things wrong especially since only recently a majority of the survey corps actually betrayed her. Yet Hange still continued to hold on to her idea that their ideas are all wrong, there must be a more peaceful way to end all this. Also, remember even do Hange had such an idealistic way on how she wanted it to end, no one explicitly agreed with her. 

Thus, she was lonely. And with that ‘dedicate your heart’ scene, Levi recognizes that loneliness and by saying “let’s dedicate our hearts” he’s telling her he is dedicating his heart to that same cause she is fighting for. And even if no one agrees with it, he agrees with her cause. 

He’s empathizing with it, he’s affirming it and he’s telling her what she’s fighting for isn’t wrong and he wants to clear her of any doubts in her final moments so she can fight till her hearts content. 

And I think that’s beautiful. I got the analysis  here.  

The “dedicate your heart” could mean one of all the things above but it can also mean all the things above at once. I like to hurt myself by thinking, Hange and Levi talk more with gestures than words and maybe Levi meant to say everything up there. 

And maybe with this face Hange gave we can see... 

She might have gotten all five messages before she sacrificed herself. 

Anyway, thanks for reading!

[thewritewolf]

No, Really

Summary: Adrien can no longer deny it - he is in love with Marinette! The only problem is, she has made it absolutely clear that she is definitely not interested in him. But when he discovers that Marinette might be harboring feelings for Chat Noir, Adrien decides that there is only one way to get together with her: Reveal his identity.

Trouble is? She doesn't believe him.

Hello and welcome! This fic was written for the @totographszine, which was publish for free here. Go check it out, the wonderful @anna-scribbles even did some excellent art of this fic in there.

Read on Ao3

Without any further ado... Enjoy!

Adrien was in love with Marinette. There was no getting around that any more. But, unfortunately, it didn’t seem that she felt the same way.

Ever since he had come to terms with his feelings, he’d been trying to flirt with her. A few cheesy lines here. Some lingering touches and eye contact there. Compliments scattered throughout the day. Although, as he had realized now, it was harder to compliment her more than he already had been. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?

The worst part of it was that she even flirted back! Which may sound great, but his experiences with Ladybug had taught him that flirting back could also mean friendly banter. It was a frustratingly similar experience, which he chose not to dwell on too hard.

And just like with Ladybug, he was at least appreciating the friendship that he could share with Marinette. Now that she had begun to open up to him, he was learning all sorts of things about her. Her favorite foods, what exactly tickled her most, her little mannerisms.

One day he learned the most important little fact about Marinette of them all.

“What is it with you and crushin’ on celebs, girl?”

Adrien recognized Alya’s voice at once and his eyes widened when he realized who she was likely talking to on the other side of the locker.

Sure enough, Marinette let out an irritated groan. There was a sound of a locker opening.

“What makes you think I have a crush on him? Just because I drew him in my notebook—”

“Oh sure, if you were just drawing him, that’d be one thing. But the hearts and kissy faces tell a whole different story.”

Adrien stood stock-still, listening as intently as he could. It felt as if his heart had

stopped beating. Had he failed to win the hearts of both his crushes? Would he ever get a lucky break just for once?

“They weren’t—that’s—no! Those were …” Marinette sputtered and eventually mumbled something that sounded a lot like “spades.”

“Spades.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, girl, if you want I could probably mention your name the next time I see him. Sure it’d be harder to pull off than with blondie, but I’m down.”

“Drop it, Alya,” Marinette said half-heartedly. The locker door was shut and they walked toward the entrance. For a moment, he was scared they would turn around and see him eavesdropping. “I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t want to have my number pushed into his hand.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he suddenly jolted to life. Chat Noir?

“Maybe. We’ll only find out if we give it a shot.” Their voices got more distant as they walked away. “At least we know you’ve got a type now.”

“Alya!”

In his heart of hearts, Adrien hoped that type included boys with green eyes and blond hair. Would it be too much to ask that she fall for him a second time? Not just as Chat Noir but as Adrien?

It was there, standing alone in the locker room, heart pounding in his throat and feeling light headed, that Adrien was suddenly struck by a plan. And while he was no Ladybug, he was pretty confident about this one.

After all, he didn’t need to make her fall for him twice. She just needed to find out who Chat Noir was.

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

His first opportunity took way too long to arrive. The need to confess his secret identity to her had been weighed against his duty not only to Paris but to Ladybug. He was as certain of Marinette’s trustworthiness as he could be, but he needed to be sure that she and only she heard him.

Besides, it made confessing his feelings a little easier too, which was honestly weighing just as heavily on his mind. Sure, safety of Paris and fighting Hawkmoth and all that, but there was also his poor battered heart to take into consideration. Ladybug had been gentle with her rejections, but they still stung as much as being tossed into a wall by a dozen akumas.

It took over a month for a golden opportunity. The four of them had been studying in Marinette’s room when Alya had left to go babysit her sisters, taking Nino along with her. Adrien watched them slowly pack up and amble over to the trap door, silently screaming every time they stopped for another little chat. But eventually, they did leave. Nino’s cap disappeared below the floor and the trapdoor shut behind them. It was late enough that Sabine and Tom had gone to bed already, but not so late that Adrien would have to leave yet, at least not for a couple hours.

Swallowing against the suddenly dryness in his throat, Adrien looked at Marinette. All thoughts of the physics homework in front of them banished the moment he saw her tongue poking out the side of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

How could one person be so cute?

Her bright blue eyes flickered up at him. “Something wrong, Adrien?”

There wasn’t going to be a better time. It was now or never.

“Marinette … I’m Chat Noir.”

The sound of her pencil scratching along the paper stopped as she stared at her homework. There was a long moment of silence wherein Adrien silently panicked. After a few seconds that stretched into infinity, which Adrien spent praying that she would say something, anything, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

She said it with a snort and a chuckle. It was like when he was experimenting with different jokes for her and he found one that didn’t quite land but didn’t completely fall flat.

She returned back to her homework, and the sound of the pencil resumed.

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Um … I suppose I can add a ‘haha’ in there too? If it makes you feel better?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh!”

“Then it’s not a very good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Adrien said, crossing his arms haughtily. This was not going how he had planned in the slightest.

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she sat up. “There is no way you are Chat Noir.”

“Why not? I’m cool!”

“Exactly, and Chat Noir is a massive dweeb.”

Adrien gasped, scandalized. “Take that back!”

“I will not. Besides,” she continued, raising her hand, “there are plenty of things Chat Noir is that you aren’t and vice versa.” She raised a finger for each point. “Chat Noir is loud, outgoing, with a sharp tongue, and he’s a flirt to boot. Plus the whole massive dweeb thing.”

“And what about me?” Adrien pouted, almost dreading the answer. “Adrien Agreste me, I should say.”

“You’re quieter, to start with.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Maybe it was easier for her to describe someone who she thought wasn’t present. “You’re considerate and kind and a perfect gentleman.” She smirked and chuckled. “At least, you usually are.”

Adrien put his hands together and brought them next to his lips as he took a deep breath. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d made reservations or tried to set up an account on some website under his own name, only to have it deleted because it “couldn’t possibly be actually Adrien Agreste.” By this point in his initial planning stages of confessing to Marinette, they were already organizing their first date between passionate spells of making out, not trying to determine if he really was himself.

But Adrien was nothing if not adaptable.

With a wide, toothy grin worthy of his alter ego, he leaned forward, putting himself dangerously close to her face. The faint blush she’d been sporting flared to life and spread across her entire face. Her eyes went large as he purred out a reply.

“What an unfortunate alley cat I am, baring my soul to a beautiful princess and she doesn’t even believe me. Whatever shall I do?”

“W-wow, you’ve … you’ve really practiced this, h-haven’t you?” She put on a brave face and scooted backwards.

“You could say that. You could also say I’ve got a lot of experience with the whole Chat Noir flare.” The smile became more genuine as he added teasingly, “And it looks like you think Chat Noir might be more than just a massive dweeb, hmm?”

“Y-yeah?” She got back some of her composure—not much, but enough to start bantering back at him. “And what else is he then?”

“A cool cat, maybe,” he said, tossing his hair and running a hand through it. “Or, even better, a fine feline.” He grinned and finger gunned at her.

Marinette snorted. “You’ve definitely nailed down some of that Chat Noir full-of-yourself stuff. Congrats on getting your research done at least.”

“Not research. Just living the life, Pigtails.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Very creative nickname.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “Then again, it’s better than princess or my lady, so I’ll take it.”

“Hey now, Ladybug likes me calling her that, even if she tries to hide it.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. But seriously, whose idea was this? It feels like Alya had a hand in this. I just know it.”

“Why would Alya get me to try to tell you I’m Chat Noir?”

“She never gives up on her ships is all.” Marinette’s eyes went wide and she threw her hands over her mouth. “Forget I said that!”

“But I—”

Her hands went straight for his mouth. “Forget!”

He held his hands up in surrender and she backed off.

“Come on, though. What’s so hard to believe about me being Chat Noir?”

“I just can’t see you and Chat Noir being the same person. You’re both so different!”

“Okay, first off—yeah, I can be quiet sometimes,” Adrien admitted. “But you’ve seen how I am with my friends, when I’m comfortable. I can be just as outgoing as I am in the mask!”

Marinette massaged her temples. “So what, you’re saying you have to be with close friends to be as confident as you are making terrible puns in front of all of Paris?”

“Well, the mask helps a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, then I don’t have to think about how what I say will impact the company or get yelled at by my father. I get to just … be wild.” He gave her a timid smile. “I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard, huh?”

Her blush deepened. “Y-yeah. I guess you do sometimes.” She cleared her throat and schooled her expression back into a skeptical one. “Assuming you are Chat Noir, of course.”

“Of course.” Quietly, he added, “You know, Adrien me isn’t the only one who is ... kind. I’ve done it plenty of times in the mask.”

“I mean, yeah, you do the heroics and everything, but I was talking about something—”

“Gentler?” he said with his best Chat Noir grin, which made her eyes widen like saucers. His voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like when I comfort akuma victims or sponsor animal shelters?”

“I—yes, like that,” she admitted in the same soft tone. A little stronger, she poked his chest and gave a small smirk. “But don’t you think Ladybug will be mad that you revealed your identity? You promised not to do that, you know. Assuming you really are Chat Noir.”

“Maybe I should have asked her about it first,” he admitted, even as something tickled at the back of his mind. How did she know about the promises between them? “But I’m sure she’d understand if she knew. The value of love is something we both agree on.”

“I mean, I guess, but—wait, what?”

“And I suppose you’ve noticed how, no matter what side of the mask I’m on, I love to flirt with the person I love?” She gasped, but he just shook his head and laughed. “Finally get there? I mean, I’ve been flirting with you nonstop for like a month.” He smiled. “Maybe you and Ladybug should hang out. The everyday Ladybug and the real-life Ladybug. Both of you can be really dense when it … comes to … realizing … oh my god.”

Adrien saw the exact moment that she realized that he had figured her out. One moment she was watching him attentively. The next, her eyes had widened in panic, her pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpoints. He knew that if he did nothing, she’d start flailing her arms around and denying it.

The distance between them turned to nothing as he leapt toward her, laughing. She grumbled as he pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his chest, but she didn’t try to break free.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. You only got lucky,” she said as she returned the hug.

“Luck or not, I finally found you … my lady.”

He looked down at her face at the same moment that she looked up into his. A moment laden with meaning passed between them before they both broke down laughing again. At long last, they had finally found each other.

[janiedean]

I feel bad for all the nice J*nsa shippers who like their ship for whatever reasons (tropes, pretty art, aesthetic appeal, whatever) and know it's not canon but get associated with the misogynistic Dany hating crowd who act like Jon being attracted to Ygritte is J*nsa foreshadowing because red hair (I guess Jon should fuck Edmure Tully too? Omg give me Dark!Jon getting revenge on Catelyn by seducing her brother!) Tell me something. I'm new to the fandom but was J*nsa popular before the show? And I've heard something about the OG J*nsa shippers being alienated by the new shippers who insisted it had to be canon and acted like the series is called, "A song of J*nsa #danysux." I don't find that hard to believe because I know people who are now ashamed of calling themselves J*nsa shippers. Like, at this point, it's not only rival shippers who hate it. Even Gendrya/Braime/Jon stans/etc have started disliking that ship. You know your fandom is a problem when people who have nothing to do with Jnsa have a problem with it.

me: reads this ask

me: iwastheregandalf.gif which I can't find now but

okay anon buckle up because I am sadly well-equipped to answer this ask but before I do lemme tell you dark jon seducing edmure to take revenge on cat is LITERALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD but *clears throat* ALL RIGHT THEN.

disclaimer: as anon says I have no issue with like the shippers mentioned by anon in the beginning and ngl I agree, I have ABSOLUTELY ZERO FUCKING STAKES in the j*nsa vs j*nerys war and the only het jon ship I gaf about is jon/ygritte and we all know where that ended up I just... have been here since 2011/adwd was over and all the fic around was just for the books under secret lj communities and asoiaf qualified for yuletide and I have... seen... things.... and I actually have like uh had... beef... with some people in there and I know things bc ppl who hated those others told me stuff so anyway *sigh* buckle up anon I'mma tell you the story of jon shipwars through the years

in order, the old gods help me here, under the cut bc this is long as fuck

when I got into fandom also given what numbers were on ao3 one ship was popular and it was sansan. no like sansan was lit. the only asoiaf ship on ao3 with more than 200 fics. jb had twenty when i checked first. jc had like around 100-ish because of the show but sansan dwarfed anything. I posted the first jon/ygritte fic on the ao3 tag and the fourth throbb fic and like the others were all reposts from lj kinkmemes. nothing was popular before the show except for sansan when it comes to huge numbers bc grrm doesn't like fic and it was all hush hush until the show made it impossible to control and that ship was the one with a huge enough fanbase it actually had numbers, so like... j*nsa wasn't popular in the way nothing else was popular until it got screentime on the show

now, that stated, j*nsa had a... fair amount of fic for a rareship which was mostly book-based and from og shippers that were there from before the show and liked it for what it was but literally none of them thought it was gonna be canon, like it wasn't huge or anything but it had a small but dedicated fanbase who did their own thing and thought it was fun/liked the idea but that was it

that fandom had their own niche of hcs that they cultivated and shit except that like... at the end of S5/beginning of S6 there was a surge in shipping for... well obvious reasons bc it was obv sansa was getting to the wall and that would have been all nice and good but a) it was the time puritanical shipping was starting to take root and the 'shipping sansa with sandor or tyrion is hella problematic' rhetoric had started to circle coming from sans*ery shippers mostly but I'mma not open that fucking can of worms here, b) while the ending of S5 had more of a theon/sansa spike, the j*nsa stuff started getting big

now here we have to mention my villain origin story ie: j*nsa fandom had this one stan whose name I won't make because honestly it's been years and if she's still around I don't want her to remember I exist who was a bnf, wrote for... the website that created the whole larry/carol thing etc who was really fixed on this thing that j*nsa was actually canon and started writing extremely popular meta about it. now you're gonna ask how do you know, I know because this person once wrote a meta named 'why robb stark is a dick' and I told her that it was really fucking bad meta and she took it so badly she kept on trash talking me on her blog/her podcast (I was apparently the insane robb stark fangirl l m a o good lord) and like that was when some sane ppl who argued with her informed me in pvt that she was basically harping on the CANON thing when they'd have been okay with like... it being crackshipping and that she was basically cultivating a hoarde of followers who were harping on them/the ogs and basically ostracizing them;

I would like to add that this person - before her tumblr got 'accidentally deleted' and remade it therefore deleted most receipts for, er, her so-called meta which included stuff like ned and cat raised sansa as a sexual object and only wanted to sell her like cattle - had at some point started a round robin fic thing where... some of the characters mocked openly said stuff that some of the og fans had said specifically targeting them and people in that side basically went harassing anyone who didn't agree with that specific notion

now never mind that this person basically coined an entire term to describe ppl who liked white guys and excused all their wrongdoings out of my conversation re robb basically lying about everything I said as if I didn't have the receipts and tried to sell shirts with it and it didn't work and like then she got kicked out of her own website because she was telling her commenters disagreeing pretty shitty insults (considering I was called psychotic for disagreeing with her that time I don't doubt it) I think at some point she stepped back from fandom bc idk wtf she's up to these days and I don't want to, but basically at that point the dam was broken and there was a bunch of puritanical shippers harping on anyone who didn't agree with j*nsa is canon endgame stuff

this also includes an incident when those ppl were like... passing themselves as throbb shippers and ended up trying to tell t*hramsay shippers off the theon tag based on moral reasons and I ended up arguing with all of them (and they were all from that crowd) which in turn landed me in contact with other og j*nsa shippers who were like detached from that fandom bc those same people harassed them away as well ssooooo fun

anyway when S6 happened everyone was high on it and whatnot but I wasn't gonna begrudge them that I mean... you shipped it for years, canon is delivering you, good for you, but then j*nerys happened

god j*nerys happened

aaand basically...... I mean personally I was there like are y'all seriously arguing about the best incest jon ship out there but like basically the j*nsa endgame side was like AH JON IS PLAYING DANY SEE IF IT DOESN'T HAPPEN, the j*nerys obv got defensive af and both sides were sort of alternatively shitting on jon/ygritte anyway and depicting any other romantic rship jon could have as abusive™ and during S8 it just got worse and like I tried to stay out of it but basically from what I'm seeing now idk how the j*neryses are doing but on the j*nsa one it's ah jon's gonna play dany anyway and she's going to go insane like in the show so SHOW TRUTHING EVERY OTHER WAY and like again denying that sandor exists or that tyrion exists and like I barely touch my corner (sansan) but I ended up arguing with j*nsa/th*nsa people on twitter who were antis and is2g it was white-hair inducing and I know for sure the sansa/tyrion shippers were harassed to hell and back throughout so FUN

and even if the show didn't go there now since everyone there banked on the jnsa endgame thing and admitting you're wrong is like... not a thing, they still haven't let go of it and attach to that ship any shred of evidence which honestly is grasping at straws half of the time (like... the sansa/alysanne parallels like guys please no) and which is why every other ship is starting to get fed up, attaching canon proof of stuff from other ships onto theirs see that batb argument and jb is platonic but jonsa is not nvm taking all the sansan stuff and throwing it on j*nsa but then denying that sansan has canon evidence (like guys I had to read sansa touching his shoulder when saying gregor wasn't a true knight wasn't meaningful and we were seeing things please) and blah blah blah

this also goes hand in hand with the fixation on like... villanizing dany at all costs and like is2g I have zero investment in dany or her storyline I don't even remember it and I don't particularly care abt her either way and sure af I'm not for j*nerys endgame but like.... some stuff I read is completely excessive esp when fixing on how she's a completely mad tyrant who's gonna have to be put down and like... guys no

(also there's some srs stannis hate in that corner which I honestly don't get why they even care abt stannis but I had to read stuff like ppl don't recognize that dany and stannis are the real villains in this saga and like........ idek)

I think most of the og shippers are gone or don't ship it openly bc they don't want to be attached to the drama but like I also think they're pissing off everyone else bc like... I mean a bunch of them also were down with sansa being paired with other ppl as long as it meant a good ending for her except those ppl were... like everyone but the ppl she has actual contact with in canon which meant that at some point sansa/gendry was a thing and like.... you can imagine why arya/gendry shippers & arya stans were fed up, and there's also this tendency to behave like sansa is the center of the entire saga which like these books is named a song of jon snow basically can we pls make peace with it and personally I've had it with both j*nsa and j*nerys people since they started with that dumbass JON/YGRITTE WAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP rhetoric but I'm also fed up with the total ignoring that sandor exists/depicting us as delusional and honestly I also was by proxy fed up from the harassing of the sansa/tyrion shippers soooooooooooo

there were also instances of 'well theon is an acceptable choice other than jon bc he can't threaten her' which... i mean we all know what that meant and I'm not even commenting it bc it's one AM and I have no force to but I don't have to explain why it's not a progressive take now do I

there were also metas about how cousin incest being legal in half of the world means that jondany is a worse incest and j*nsa doesn't count as such and I was basically there like guys please just fucking own up to it but honestly I chose to forgot where I read that and I couldn't find the link if I tried

tldr: no one wants to admit that it's not gonna be endgame which considering the amount of fic they have on ao3 is imvho useless bc they have more content than like.. anything I ship that's not jb or that's actually like canon *cries in joncon/rhaegar but I mean renly/loras is canon and has less fic than them* so idk what's the problem with enjoying that instead of insisting it's gonna be canon when not even the show validated it while show truthing anyway when the only show truthing that can be truthed is the small council made of minorities and possibly jon eventually fucking off with the wildlings but not like that but like most people who thought it wasn't gonna be endgame had left/were made to leave by the time S7 rolled by and at this point since wow isn't out yet everyone is fandom-grasping at straws to find stuff to discourse on and we're here beating dead horses *shrug*

so that's... how it is but I would again like to point out that I don't judge ppl on their shipping, I don't particularly care about this entire feud bc I only ship jon with ppl he's not related to in whichever way and I try to stay out of this mess bc I don't really care to argue with ppl who have already decided to bend canon to whatever they want and will have to realize that it's not what grrm wrote at some point but like I have a very good memory and the above rant is as objective as possible also bc again I don't literally have a stake in that race I just think romantic/endgame j*nsa is not a thing and that ppl should stay in their lane and not harping on other ppl who ship whatever in general but especially when their ship is the most popular thing in fandom in the first place /two cents

[kominum]

rewatching old sailor moon and thought of like... disgruntled tuxedo mask!corpse but with unrequited love because i’m a glutton for angst

wc: ~2.2k 

warnings: death of a minor character, implicit knowledge of sailor moon lore, modern twist, unedited

please send in ideas you might have that i could write short blurbs for! this was honestly fun to write. 

It’s a scratch he can’t itch. It’s what has him waking up in cold sweats, confused and moderately annoyed that his hard-earned sleep has been so rudely interrupted. He hates the cape, he hates the itchy suit, he abhors the top hat – and the only things he doesn’t really hate are his baton and endless supply of darkened roses.

The first time he transformed, he was half-asleep and struggling to understand why he was speeding down the highway and parking two blocks away from some random back alley. His pain was relatively dulled, which was surprising, and his body suddenly possessed a world of fighting skills that felt foreign yet familiar. All he could recognize was a slightly disheveled woman cursing and just trying her best against some odd form of demon spawn, and before he knew it, he’d thrown down a dark purple rose and engaged in combat. Once said woman found an opening, she took off her headband/tiara, performed a throw that would put professional frisbee players to shame, and the monster disintegrated into dust.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, body hunched over and hands on his knees. “What the fuck was that?”

“More like who the fuck are you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered and dusted himself off.  

“What’s with your get-up anyways?” She failed to hide her snickering. “You’re 3 decades behind.”

“Do I look like I want to fight in a suit? Plus, you’re fighting in some rendition of a schoolgirl uniform.” Her black thigh-high boots were killer, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“You should’ve seen what it was before, but I was able to make some changes. Good heads-up for you and—”

“Sailor Moon, are you okay?!”

Oh. So she’s got a talking cat, too. What in fresh hell was going on? Did he take something? But also—“Your name is Sailor Moon?”

“We’re working on the name change,” she grumbled, bending down to let said feline jump up her arm and settle on her shoulder. “Anyways, uh…thanks. I was kind of in a bind, but I’m usually not I swear. Good timing, I guess?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” But she was already in the wind, hopping from roof to roof with no inhibitions, and left him completely dumbfounded.

His silly attire dissolved back into his previous clothing as he ambled back towards his car, thought not exactly at his own will. But he shrugged, slid into the car seat, and dialed the only person he could think of who would readily pick up at this ungodly hour of…2:37AM. That was just the start, and he can’t tell if things went downhill from there.

-

He should backtrack.

He met you almost two years ago at a hospital.

You had been waiting anxiously for your boyfriend to come out of surgery after being in a bad car accident, biting your nails, occasionally pacing back and forth, smoothing your hands worriedly against your jeans, and gnawing your bottom lip to death. It was midday, sometime after lunch, and he’d come in for some routine checkup he can’t remember what for now, and sat a few seats away from you in the tiny hospital coffee shop. He’s no therapist or expert, but he highly doubted that any caffeine would alleviate your anxiety. Yet you sat there with two to-go cups and a granola bar wrapper, and something told him to stick around for now.

He’s never been one for a lot of small talk, but you looked to be about his age and no one else was with you. Tragedy tasted most bitter when alone, and some force of the universe told him to at least say something, anything. So he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled awkwardly to your table, tentatively asking a, “Hey, uh…is everything okay?”

You’d looked up at him with wild eyes on the verge of tears, heart battering against your chest, and the only intelligible thing that left your mouth was a “Huh?”

And he’d casted a gentle grin, eyes laced with a mixture of pity and concern, and asked again his first question. “My boyfriend’s in surgery. He got in a bad accident. There’s um…roughly two hours left, I think.”

“And you thought coffee would make it better?” He jutted his chin towards your large cups.

“Hot chocolate,” you chuckled. “I’m not keen on torturing myself like that, not now at least.”

“Well, I’ve got an appointment soon but I should be done before his surgery’s over…want me to come check up on you?”

Dumbfounded was the best way to describe your expression, and he was so close to retracting his offer before you gave him one of the most thankful smiles he’d seen in many years. “I’d really appreciate that.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. Give me a sec.”

At the counter, he paid for another cup of hot chocolate and added in a chocolate chip cookie for good measure before bringing it back to you. “I hear chocolate helps.”

“Thank you, again. Go, don’t want to make you late.”

But an hour and a half later in the waiting area outside surgery, the doctor came out with a solemn expression, and you all but collapsed into the plastic chairs, tears leaking like waterfalls from your eyes. Part of him wanted to bail and go because there wasn’t much he could do, but it wouldn’t be right to leave you to drive home now. He wanted to make sure that you were calmed down, all cried out, and breathing properly so you could at least operate a vehicle safely.

The same unknown force had him offering you his number in case you needed anyone to talk to, yet the conversation sat empty for weeks until curiosity and guilt ate at him. He tapped out a message, deleting it, then another one, more deleting, before he settled on a plain, “It’s the guy from the hospital. I know it’s been a while but…how are you?”

Your reply was almost instantaneous, to which he worried if he’d accidentally woken you up at 4:13AM. First, it’s a casual, “hey, thanks for checking up on me! I’m doing okay,” but he knew better. And the other shoe dropped in the form of a simple, “I miss him.”

It’s a quiet, heartwarming friendship. You know nothing specific about him – he’s incredibly vague on any identifying information. Hell, you’d be willing to bet that the name at the hospital was a fake one. Nevertheless, he’s one of your closest friends. You know he mainly works online, has a lot of trouble sleeping, is chronically ill and has a number of medical conditions, his general disposition and feelings on things, but overall, just wonderfully easy to talk to.

Yet something just feels wrong about falling in love with him. It’s a horrid combination of guilt and disbelief. Are you rebounding? Are you subconsciously searching for your dead ex-boyfriend? Are you so desperate for romantic connections that you’ve twisted yourself into believing you love a man that you’ve seen fewer times than the number of fingers you have?

You come to peace with it when his custom ringtone chimes softly on your nightstand in the middle of the night. Rain or shine, stars or none, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Nothing has ever woken you up so quickly, not even alarms on interview days. “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Kind of, but it’s fine. What’s up? Wait,” you interrupt yourself and listen carefully to your speaker. “Are you…driving?”

“…yeah.”

“Should I ask from or to where?”

“I…honestly don’t know. Something felt off, felt like I had to get out of my place and just fucking do something. So uh, I drove somewhere and just started driving back home.”

You curl up under your sheets on your side and plug your earbuds into the phone. “Well, did it get rid of whatever you were feeling?”

“I think so? Honestly couldn’t fucking tell you. Still really bizarre to me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you murmur. “Well, feel free to call me whenever you feel like that again.”

“I don’t wanna fuck up your sleep schedule though. Feel like it’ll happen more often than I’d like.”

“How about this – if I don’t pick up, it’ll just be my nice way of saying ‘fuck off, too busy sleeping right now’?”

A soft, deep chuckle warms your chest and cheeks. “Sounds good. So how’ve you been?”

“Well, you know…”

It’s the same night that you think you might have a chance at love again. You fall asleep with his voice weaving stories and tales in your ears and wake up to a message that says, “Wow, didn’t know I was so fucking boring that it made you snore so loud.” The hope that creeps through your veins is dangerous and thrums urgently whenever you get a call or message from him.

And as bright as a star, it all comes crashing down in a firey blaze.

You crash into a girl as mysterious and serenely beautiful as the moon with a talking black cat one afternoon. She exudes a gorgeous amount of confidence in her stance as she protects you from a creature that looks like it’s out of a horror video game, and you can only stare in awe. The cat from before yells instructions at you, throwing what looks like a pen with a red cap on it and you blindly follow them. Your subsequent red heels feel incredibly comfortable and you can’t remember the last time you wore a skirt – but there’s no time to ponder as you push the girl you were admiring out of harm’s way and somehow manage to direct fire at them from your fingertips.

The monster burns and screams in agony before getting hit with what looks like a glowing frisbee. Your savior wipes the dust off her outfit before extending a hand out to you, “Welcome to the club, Sailor Mars.”

Say what now?

“There’s gotta be a better name than that,” is the first thing you say as you get pulled up. She throws her head back and lets out a charmingly obnoxious laugh. “We’ll work on changing it. I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

“Her name ended up being a rip-off of my name,” the cat quips and receives a scowl from the supposed plagiarizer. “I’m Luna, and this is Sailor Moon, or Lunaria she says.”

“You gotta admit, that’s cutting it a little close,” you agree and Lunaria flips the bird. “How the fuck am I going to change Sailor Mars? Also, can I do anything about this outfit?”

“We can go shopping tomorrow for sure. Luna and I can fill you on everything and – oh, before I forget, there’s a guy—”

“So it looks like you don’t need my help?”

You freeze in your steps, startled by the familiar baritone approaching you two. He was involved in all this?

“I told you, I don’t need your help—”

“Is she new?”

“Yeah, which means, we really don’t need your help. She’s got actual fire power. Literal fire.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool,” he accepts. “Good to meet you.”

You spot a set of veiny fingers that appears in your peripheral and you tentatively turn in his direction, hoping that your hair will obstruct your face as much as possible. “Same,” your throat manages to squeak out as his warm hand engulfs yours in a firm handshake.

“Get out of here, Corpse,” Lunaria chides and lets go of you to push a finger to his chest.

“I’m only here because you fucking needed saving. Now you’ve got another person dragged in.”

“I told you, I’m not some fucking damsel in distress,” she hisses. The mirth in his visible eye only causes the infuriation to grow and swirl more vigorously in her gut.

You watch the exchange from the sidelines as Corpse’s teasing only increases and provokes Lunaria further, disheartened that you’ve never heard him laugh so much in one exchange before. Dread from deep within your veins begins to freeze around your heart, something so set and undeniable that causes your brain to realize that falling in love with him was a mistake. It was the kind of mistake that would strike you with pain for years and the intense foreshadowing has you spinning on your heel and bounding through an alleyway. Your outfit shifts back to what you’d been wearing before, the characteristic weight of your phone in your back pocket seeming heavier than ever.

You call him that night, holding in a deep breath when the dial tone breaks midway. A rustle, a breath, and then, “Hey what’s up?”

Oh god, you scream to yourself as your heart shatters at the bottom of your chest. His voice, again, cannot be misconstrued as anyone else’s – the inflection, the tone, the volume, everything belonged to him.

And the universe told you then and there that he, undoubtedly, belonged to her.

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 07: The Revision Process

Next, King walks us through his revision process. He makes it clear that this method is not the only method. It is merely a method. 

How Many Drafts?

“For me, the answer has always been two drafts and a polish (with the advent of word-processing technology, my polishes have become closer to a third draft).”

King admits that this number of drafts is not the golden rule. Kurt Vonnegut rewrote each page of his novels until he got them exactly the way he wanted them. This meant that when the manuscript was finished, the book was finished. (I certainly am not that big of a perfectionist, nor am I that patient lol.)

For beginner writers in particular, King offers the following advice:

“Let me urge that you take your story through at least two drafts; the one you do with the study door closed and the one you do with it open.

“This first draft--the All-Story Draft--should be written with no help (or interference) from anyone else. There may come a point when you want to show what you’re doing to a close friend because you’re proud of what you’re doing or because you’re doubtful about it. My best advice is to resist this impulse. Keep the pressure on; don’t lower it by exposing what you’ve written to the doubt, the praise, or even the well-meaning questions of someone from the Outside World. Let your hope of success (and your fear of failure) carry you on, difficult as that can be. There’ll be time to show off what you’ve done when you finish...but even after finishing I think you must be cautious and give yourself a chance to think while the story is still like a field of freshly fallen snow, absent of any tracks save your own.”

Basically, King just wants you to get it all out onto the paper, with no external forces influencing you (for better or for worse). Just get that first draft out, and then open it up for closer examination both to yourself and others.

Let It Breathe and Then Dig In!

Okay, so you finished writing the first draft! Celebrate! Rejoice! Maybe cry!

...And then throw that manuscript into a drawer, lock it up tight, and don’t look at it for a minimum of six weeks. And in the meantime, do something totally unrelated to what you wrote. Get into knitting. Write a short story that is nothing like what you just finished. It’s consumed you for months now--so give your mind and imagination some time to reset and chill. 

King recommends a minimum of six weeks, but even longer is okay. Resist all temptation to peek at it. And once the six weeks have passed, do the following:

“Take your manuscript out of the drawer. If it looks like an alien relic bought at a junk-shop or a yard sale where you can hardly remember stopping, you’re ready. Sit down with your door shut, a pencil in your hand, and a legal pad by your side. Then read your manuscript over.

“Do it all in one sitting, if possible. Make all the notes you want, but concentrate on the mundane housekeeping jobs, like fixing misspellings and picking up inconsistencies. There’ll be plenty; only God gets it right the first time and only a slob says, ‘oh well, let it go, that’s what copyeditors are for.’

“If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layover to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings than it is to kill your own.”

You’ll also be on the lookout for any glaring holes in the plot or character development. And if you spot any of these big holes, you are forbidden from feeling depressed about them. Don’t be hard on yourself. Everybody makes mistakes, and they can all be fixed. 

Generally King goes through the first reading fixing all the superficial issues, like typos and unclear antecedents. But as he’s doing that, he’s also asking himself the Big Questions:

Is this story coherent? 

If it is, what will turn coherence into a song?

What are the recurring elements?

Do they entwine and make a theme?

What’s it all about?

“Most of all, I’m looking for what I meant, because in the second draft I’ll want to add scenes and incidents that reinforce that meaning. I’ll also want to delete stuff that goes in other directions. There’s apt to be a lot of that stuff, especially near the beginning of a story, when I have a tendency to flail.”

I can understand what King is saying here about the flailing at the beginning. Because I do not plot when I write, I have ideas that crop up halfway through that would require being introduced earlier, for example. Or perhaps as my understanding of the characters evolved as I wrote more, I realize that they behaved out-of-character earlier on. This is certainly one downside to not plotting. But isn’t is also kinda liberating to be able to take detours and wind up at a different but equally interesting destination?

Okay. So go ahead and fix all of the issues you found, and your first revision is complete.

Second Opinions and the Second Revision

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me.”

Now you’re done with the first draft. You’ve patched over any plot holes and smoothed out those typos and grammar mistakes. You’ve polished the symbols and themes until they shine.

Once this is done, King gives a copy of work to his wife and several close friends (4-8) to receive detailed feedback. In other words, he has several close friends beta for him. 

“Many writing texts caution against asking friends to read your stuff, suggesting you’re not apt to get a very unbiased opinion from folks who’ve eaten dinner at your house and sent their kids over to play with your kids in your backyard. 

“The idea has some validity, but I don’t think an unbiased opinion is exactly what I’m looking for. And I believe that most people smart enough to read a novel are also tactful enough to find a gentler mode of expression than ‘This sucks.’ Besides, if you really did write a stinker, wouldn’t you rather hear the news from a friend while the entire edition consists of a half-dozen Xerox copies?”

What he gets back is 4-8 very detailed and different analyses of what he wrote. What’s very important to remember is that every reader looks at a work through a different lens. If half of them say a character’s portrayal is far-fetched but the other half say the opposite, than their feedback regarding that point has balanced out. However, if the majority of them say that something doesn’t work, then King goes back and sees if he can improve it. 

Also, different readers pick up on different details. This is the age of internet and now we are able to check facts whenever we like, but it is still nice to have something of a subject matter expert on hand, because they are liable to pick up on details that the writer may not. 

For example, I often beta fanfiction for anime. I am fluent in Japanese, live in Japan, and have studied Japanese culture and history. While I would never claim to be a “subject matter expert” on Japan, I am able to make certain corrections regarding, say, the type of kimono a character should be wearing, that the writer would not have considered. 

It’s very easy to accept feedback that deals with facts (i.e. a beta corrects you on the standard procedures for CPR). However, it’s much harder to handle subjective feedback (i.e. “The ending felt inconclusive.”). Having put as much work as you have into creating this, it can feel like a personal attack because this story is a very dear part of you. What do you do if your beta tells you something like this?

“Subjective evaluations are, as I say, a little harder to deal with, but listen: if everyone who reads your book says you have a problem, you’ve got a problem and you better do something about it.

“Plenty of writers resist this idea. They feel that revising a story according to the likes and dislikes of an audience is somehow akin to prostitution. ... But come on, we’re talking about half a dozen people you know and respect. If you ask the right ones, they can tell you a lot.

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me. In the end I listen most closely to [my wife], because she’s the one I write for, the one i want to wow. If you’re writing primarily for one person besides yourself, I advise you pay very close attention to that person’s opinion. And if what you hear makes sense, then make the changes. You can’t let the whole world into your story, but you can let in the ones that matter the most. And you should.”

I think, especially in the age of prolific fanfiction in which the author usually updates as they write the story, the author feels a lot of pressure from their readers. Readers chomping at the bit for the main characters to have a naughty scene, or demanding to know about that one secret thing that you keep alluding to. A lot of fanfic writers struggle to tow the line of “writing a good story based on reader feedback” and “pandering.” 

My advice to fanfic writers out there is to tell those thirsty readers to read a one-shot if they’re looking for a quick fix of smut, and to have some goddamn patience. You’re trying to tell a story, one that builds and progresses, and that takes time. Don’t give in to those “OMG MAKE THEM KISS ALREADY” reviews. But if a lot of readers say something like, “I feel like this character wouldn’t do that,” then perhaps you should re-evaluate that. 

On Pace and Reducing Glut

“Formula: 2nd Draft = 1st Draft - 10%.”

So now you have your first draft done. You have your feedback from your trusted betas. And now you need to go and make the final changes. 

King states that you should rely on your most trusted betas to gauge whether or not your story is paced correctly and if you’ve handled the back story in satisfactory fashion. “Pace” is the speed at which your narrative unfolds. 

”There is a kind of unspoken (hence undefended and unexamined) belief in publishing circles that the most commercially successful stories are novels are fast-paced. I guess the underlying thought is that people have so many things to do today, and are so easily distracted from the printed word, that you’ll lose them unless you become a kind of short-order cook, serving up sizzling burgers, fries, and eggs over easy just as fast as you can. 

“But you can overdo the speed thing. Move too fast and you risk leaving the reader behind, either by confusing or by wearing him/her out. ... I believe each story should be allowed to unfold at its own pace, and that pace is not always double time. Nevertheless, you need to beware--if you slow the pace down too much, even the most patient reader is apt to grow restive.”

So how can you strike a happy medium? Rely on your most trusted betas and their input. King says, “Every story and novel is collapsible to some degree. If you can’t get out ten percent of it while retaining the basic story and flavor, you’re not trying very hard. The effect of judicious cutting is immediate and often amazing. You’ll feel it and your betas will too.”

On backstory, King issues some opinions and advice:

It’s important to get the backstory in as quickly as possible, but it’s also important to do it with some grace.

A reader is more interested in what’s going to happen instead of what already did.

Even when you tell your story in a straightforward manner, you’ll discover you can’t escape at least some backstory. 

“The most important things to remember about backstory are that (a) everyone has a history and (b) most of it isn’t very interesting. Stick to the parts that are, and don’t get carried away with the rest.”

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this pt 3

  Part 3 time. part 1 here part two here, ao3 link here     

             Cass had long since taken to eating at Yan Toh Heen when she was in Hong Kong, where head chef Cheng Wang served her favorite soup, Marinette Soup. Given that Cass often came at odd times and remained a regular whenever she was in town, she had come to know of Shifu Cheng’s inspiration, his niece’s daughter. A girl who reminded Cass of Bruce’s usual adoptees when she first saw her picture, and mentioned it was a good ting her father hadn’t begun adopting until the girl was already a toddler. Shifu Cheng had laughed at the time, and mentioned that Cass might be a good influence on her, if she could keep her father from trying to steal his great-niece away that is.

             Now Cass was looking at the girl’s picture a bit more critically, and with Bruce and his parents in mind, she wouldn’t be surprised if this Marinette—a young designer who had managed to have two major figures in the industry recognize her by 16 with an apparent knack for helping her local heroes—was Bruce’s daughter. Her eyes reminded Cass of Thomas Wayne’s from the portraits, and her smile was a lot like Bruce’s when he wasn’t hiding anything.

             With all this in mind, Cass was already on a plane to find the girl and test out her theory—to see if Marinette of the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie was also Ladybug—Batman and Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

             She did smile when she saw the group chat for “Middle Kids Only—No D’s Allowed” exploded with Jason, Tim and Steph arguing over who would find her first and what the prize would be. It looked like Cass would win at this rate. She was fine with that—and having a no-questions asked favor from each of the three in the future would be the icing on the cake to meeting their new sister first.

---             

             Marinette has to explain to Adrien a bit of her blow up while they were civilians and out of sight in her room. Tikki and Plagg were napping.

             “So, you’re uh…” she couldn’t blame him for the lack of words. She tended to forget (re: ignore) the fact herself most of the time.

             “Yeah,” Marinette shrugged. “Maman and Papa got me in a closed adoption case, the mother was young.”

             “… I’m now picturing a young Batman and can’t wrap my brain around it.”

             Marinette snorted at that. “It was before Batman existed.”

             Adrien frowned at that, thinking it over as… “So did you ever…”

             Marinette shook her head. “My mother warned against it, the note she left for me said it was dangerous to even attempt contacting him.” She ran a hand through her hair as she remembered Maman and Papa letting her read the note not long after her Guardian training began. It was another life entirely. “She said he was an unfit father, and that she never wanted kids so I was better off not looking for them when I grew up. I never planned to—Maman and Papa were all I ever needed or wanted.”

             Adrien smiled at that, grabbing a cookie for himself. “So what happened?”

             Marinette winced. “I, I don’t want to talk about it. Long story short, a wild Murder Robin appeared and told me not to contact his family or else, and I promised to steer clear of affiliates so he wouldn’t try anything.”

             Adrien twitched at that. He knew Marinette and Alya made a few comments about it once upon a time but…

             “Is he the one dropping off the weapons and flower threats?”

             Marinette looked away, keeping her eyes low.

             Adrien tightened his fists. “I see. If he or that family get near you, they’ll have to take on Chat Noir first.”

             Marinette huffed at that. “They’re the normies that took down the world ending metas, I doubt there’s much we could do against them chatton.”

             Adrien shook his head and jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Black Cat wielder, destruction incarnate, and the idiot you share a soul with.” He gave her his Chat Noir smile. “There’s nothing I can’t take on.”

             Marinette snorted at that. “Chemistry.”

             Adrien’s face fell at that. “You cannot tell me chemical reactions are that easy!”

             Marinette smiled at him then. “I can and will say it—Chemistry is easier and superior to physics. Kitchen Chemistry is how we get food.”

             “And physics keeps us from floating off into space.”

             “Not studying it. Studying chemistry I get food, physcics is just a headache of formulas on formulas on formulas.”

             “But the theories!”

             With that, the pair fell into their familiar rhythm of banter for the rest for the night.

             Tim was crossing French designers in Paris aged 14-20 that own or work at a boutique, online or physical, and turned up a large number of candidates for who Ladybug/the missing Wayne could be.

             Babs rolled in on this particular search, and gave him a look. “You know the Justice League wants us to not to contact her, right?”

             Tim made a vague sound of acknowledgement.

             “And that Bruce probably didn’t have a kid at 15, right?”

             “Just covering my bases.”

             Babs looked over his search margins. “Did you check Damian’s search history?”

             Tim scowled at her. “Of course I did, he’s been doing more through wipes, I couldn’t get more than a few scarps of useless code.”

             Babs began to grin then. “So that means I do have a leg-up on you then.”

             He didn’t even want to know how she knew about the competition. But she wasn’t officially in it either (all of the placed their bets down negotiated rules (re: no asking for help from Damian) and agreed the only participants were the four of them). What did Barbra Gordon want out of this?

             Tim paused at that. “What.”

             Babs grinned at him. Tim remembered why Oracle is the queen of hackers everywhere—nothing is safe from her reach.

             “He was particularly taken with a few designers, and one of them happens to be in the range you’re looking for.”

             Tim scowled at her. “What do you want?”

             “You know that picture of me you took a few years back?”

             Tim blinked as that was what she wanted. His ‘Don’t tell The Family’ insurance.

             “Yes.”

             “I want your copies of burned, and any you may have floating around returned to me.”

             Tim weighed the pros and cons to this. The girl should be in his current data pool. And he does know to use Damian’s search again (tracking Bab’s hacks was child’s play now) but she probably deleted most—if not all of—her trail. Decisions, Decisions…

             He could just wait to meet the baby bat. But then he would owe Jason a no-questions asked favor if he found her first… and he didn’t want to know what Jason would use it for. Owing Cass a favor meant family nights with the worst board games or tea parties when he was elbow deep in a mission. A no question favor for Steph was always interesting and usually resulted in Bruce giving them both looks.

             Did he want to lose his leverage on Babs, or did he want to avoid the consequences of the bet more?

--

             Chat and Carapace exchanged a quick look when the pair arrived. A nod from Carapace as he trailed after their paling Ladybug was all Chat needed to begin operation Distract the Justice Leaguer Members.

             He and Rena Rouge were having the time of their lives. Both were genuine in their admiration of the pair and the work they had done. And they were both eager to learn from them—both as individuals and what their people knew of the Miraculous—something Chat and Rena knew there were large gaps in the history of still. And if they could help out Ladybug with gathering information and ensuring she was given space, well, the pair were down for it.

             Chat was asking a confused and mildly frightened Aquaman for combat tips in aquatic situations for future Syren-eqsue akumas.

             “So how do you keep an eye on attacks from all directions? Is it a ‘feel the water movements’ thing? Or is it just something you know how to do from growing up underwater? Could you teach me a few things on it—it’s a weak point that I need to work on.”

             Aquaman was quick to agree to help, eager to avoid angering the Black Cat and given Ladybug’s (apparently continued) evasion of Justice League Members, this may be the best way to both prevent the possible apocalypse and ensure Atlantis’ future safety.

             Wonder Woman was having an interesting conversation with Miss Sting about the uses for her spinning top and potential ways to work on her use of Venom while Rena asked about the Amazons and was there really an amazon who wielded the Ladybug miraculous? There were no confirmations from Ladybug and the Guardian was impossible to find to ask. Was there a Fox and did they have anything on the Miraculous’ history?

             Wonder Woman was quick to supply answers while scanning the area for Ladybug, and noted that the Turtle was missing too.

             “Is Ladybug well?”

             Rena and Miss Sting exchanged a look.

             Miss Sting stepped forward. “Ladybug just needs some space. She isn’t willing to risk breaking her promise since certain people do know where she lives.”

             Rena tensed at that, a scowl quick to her face as she remembered why Ladybug was absent. “She can’t talk to either of you until Murder Robin,”--Wonder Woman winced at the reminder of the current Robin’s past--“makes it clear he won’t keep threatening her if she does.”

             Chat caught enough of the conversation to join in. “Its also not good to stress her out, especially since its going to be open season soon.”

             Miss Sting sighed at the reminder. “Application and testing season.”

             Rena rubbed her forehead. “Don’t remind me. Last time Ladybug was so stressed over her workload that the cure was off for a week.”

             Wonder Woman and Aquaman exchanged a look.

             “Are you stating that stress on Ladybug alters how the Miraculous Cure works?” Aquaman asked cafefully, hoping it wasn’t the case.

             “Yeah,” Chat rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured it always did.”

             Wonder Woman shook her head, mind racing as, “No. Not during Mother’s time—it must be a side effect of something. May I speak to one of the Guardians?”

             Chat didn’t even have time to respond. Both adults noted the way his pupils shrunk and body tensed at the question. He knew something the others didn’t.

             “Uh, there’s only one, and the guy has been radio silent for months now,” Rena explained. “And not to be rude, but given the security breaches in the past, I don’t think it’s the best thing for our Guardian to be in contact, just in case.”

             “I see…”

             Aquaman was the quick to defuse the situation. “Perhaps one of your sisters could reach out to Ladybug? They are not affiliated with the League so that should lessen her stress.”

             Chat nodded along at that. Good. It was better to keep the Destroyer content.

             “I can see who Mother would like to send of the historians given the interest in past miraculous wielders,” Diana conceded. “Could you ask Ladybug if that is acceptable?”

             The teens grabbed their respective weapons and messaged Ladybug. A moment later the trio stated that Ladybug would agree to those terms.

             In the meantime, Chat, Rena and Miss Sting caught the adults up on the Hawkmoth situation and their limitations on investigation. Rena was particularly annoyed by the lack of progress as “Our best suspect was akumatized before Mayura showed up, so he can’t be Hawkmoth. But he lives in the target area, has the funds for a butterfly garden and the ability to keep it underground if LB’s theory about artificial sunlight to keep it secret is right.”

            “But we know he can’t be, so we should drop it and look for other suspects,” Chat added a bit nervously.

             Miss Sting nodded in agreement.

             Rena sighed. “I know, its just, too much adds up on him being Hawkmoth, but then again, that would mean he’d put his own kid in danger just to get the Miraculous. I mean, he’s bad and all but…” Rena shook her head. “LB is right about him making sense but it’s too obvious. I mean, who hides in plain sight, right?”

             Wonder Woman made a mental note to find out who this suspect was and maybe—MAYBE—let the bats do a deep search on this suspect if Rena would name them. He could very well be their villain, but she didn’t know enough on this investigation yet to make a call, nor did she have much knowledge on the Butterfly or Peacock miraculous. She only paid attention to the Ladybug and Black Cat legends—a soul spilt in two, destined to always find one another and willing to do whatever it took to protect the other from self-destructing once they grew close as allies.

--

             In Gotham Jason Todd is on a Mission. That mission happens to be meeting the Baby Bat before Timmers or the Waffle Queen herself beat him to it. Cass hadn’t responded to any of their texts, so he figured she was knee-deep in Black Bat and forfeited for once. He hoped.

             Either way, Red Hood would be tracking a certain Little Lady when he touched down in Paris once his plane took off, and take out whoever this “Hawkmoth” was. Magic terrorism is one thing. Targeting kids? Well, that puts you Hood’s list and high on his priorities real quick. Add threatening his family (estranged, feuding or 'well they're a Bat') to that? Gotham would live without him for a bit.

--

             Ladybug is currently holed up with Carapace in one of their hide-y holes on patrol. She has borrowed (re: snagged and is not returning any time soon) Carapace’s headphones. The music helps her breath. No immediate danger, she didn’t (further) break the rules of engagement, and she didn’t see any sign of Murder Robin in Paris from news reports.

             “So, uh, Murder Robin?”

             Ladybug wanted to groan. She knew this conversation was coming. “Can you send the others the cliff notes?”

             She did not want to do this with each one of them. there are a lot of miraculous users. Besides Chat and Carapace, there was Rena, Miss Sting, Pegasus, Ryuuko, King Monkey, Viperion, and Bunnix. She did not want to have this conversation seven more times.

             “Sure thing Ladybug.”

             Ladybug took a deep breath.

             “Remember Incinerater and Goo-Boy?”

             Carapace paused, face a bit slack as he nodded his head. “The first time Mr. Bug appeared, and the day Rena, Sting and me got our miraculous.”

             Ladybug nodded. “Well, it lasted so long because my transformation timed out. I couldn’t figure out what my lucky charm meant—I didn’t know what the kwami box looked like, and a bigger version of the jewelry box I got Tikki in meant nothing to me.” Ladybug sighed, as once again, she realized how much easier it would have been if Fu contacted her and Chat Noir after the first attack, or even during one on their built-in communicators. Just. Something.

             “So you timed out.”

             Ladybug nodded. “And I got caught in the building that went down.”

             Carapace froze. “Most people were still injured.”

             Ladybug winced. “I was. Still. Chat somehow knew to look for my civilian identity and found out I was Ladybug. I thought…” Marinette shook her head, pushing old fears of losing Tikki away. She’s the Guardian now. Tikki and her are together as long as Marinette remains so. “Nevermind. The point is, even after he cast the cure and helped me get home, Goo-boy showed up and Mr. Bug was needed again.”

             Carapace put the pieces together. “You were still hurt. And he left you alone.”

             Ladybug ran a hand through her pigtails. “He had to. I told him to, I figured I could make it the rest of the way.”

             Carapace frowned at that. “LB…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”

             Ladybug swallowed a lump. “Tiny Murder Robin.” She stiffened a bit, fiddling with her yoyo then. “He uh, grabbed me, pulled me into a car and held me a sword-point. Not gun point, sword point.” Marinette bleed through then. “Who does that? What kid goes around and says they’ll kill you with a sword at your neck?”

             Carapace rubbed her back, keeping her grounded. “I managed to get him to leave since I was ‘unworthy of the Bat legacy’ and all, discarded and useless.” Marinette shook her head, reminding herself she’s moved past those feelings, the one that tried to well up in her moments. She was bigger than those thoughts. “He let me go since I wasn’t worth the effort if I didn’t know I was Batman’s daughter.” Marinette kept her eyes on her lap, a nervous hands running through one pigtail vigorously. “I kind of sicced him on the current Robin to save my skin.”

             Carapace pulled her in for a hug. She clung back a bit. she didn’t have to look at him as he explained the deal. “I promised to not contact Batman or the JL and he agreed to leave me alone. And he did.”

             Carapace pulled back. “That’s not all of it, is it?”

             “He uh, started leaving flowers and some weapon for winter holidays, Easter and my birthday in my room….”

             Carapace paled at that. “He’s threatening you.”

             “y, yeah…”

             “So that’s why….”

             Ladybug nodded.

             Carapace hugged her tight. “One sec, I’ll text the team. Then we’re doing that plan of action you made the rest of us do for when we can’t show up.”

             Ladybug nodded.

             She noticed a text from the others, asking if she’d be willing to talk to an Amazonian historian on the history of the Miraculous and learn from her. That… wouldn’t violate the terms of the agreement, in spirit or wording. She sent her agreement on the terms that none of the sent historians were Wonder Woman or the Queen herself. As cool as meeting Hippolyta would be, Marinette does not want to risk the violation in spirit (family members probably counted to Murder Robin.)

             “Done.”

             Ladybug blinked as Carapace turned to her.

             “Now what can we do to help?”

             Ladybug opened and closed her mouth, running over her options. “Just keep non-miraculous heroes from contacting me, especially in battle. I just...” Ladybug struggled for words. “He knows where I live. My family.”

             Carapace nodded, keeping a steady hand on her shoulder. “Can’t risk it, I got you—we got you.”

             After a moment of silence, Carapace spoke. “Keep the team on speeddial—if you don’t want everyone on, then at least me, Pegasus and Rena. Rena can distract without getting hurt, I can protect all of us and Pegasus can send him and anyone he works with packing. Monkey probably would want in on this too—he is the Distraction King after all.”

             Ladybug laughed a little at that. It came out weak. “Sure. Chat, he’s…”

             “Busy.” Carapace shrugged. “We all know his dad has him running through hoops to make it to patrol half the time.”

             “Yeah…”

             (Marinette agreeing to intern with M. Agreste and work on her accessories brand under the Gabriel umbrella did give Adrien more lee-way than he had before, but not by much at first. Ever since her line of scarves based on the miraculous heroes took off last winter, he was given more free reign if it involved Marinette as a designer, not Marinette as his friend and classmate. Adrien was allowed at her house at all hours now without no questions asked on the basis of ‘Marinette’s muses have spoken’. As far as Gabriel was concerned, Adrien was learning more about the designing process and crafting of individual garment and accessories from her, and offering critiques as a model on wear-ability and helping her develop her style as a designer while keeping her ‘on-brand’. The fact they mostly goofed off or worked on miraculous-related things together was another matter for another time.)

             Ladybug and Carapace stayed like that for a while, until after the JL left. She may have trolled the Monkey tab on the Ladyblog and snorted at someone’s short of ‘era 1’ Chat running at an akuma while screaming “this is how I will get Ladybug will love me!” with an ‘era 2’ Chat cringing. “That. That is how I got Ladybug to baby brother me.”

--  

           Dick was wondering where the rest of the bats were during patrol. The night before, it was only him. Something about needing to look into something for the JL on Bruce’s end, and Damian was working on something again—trying to make up for a past wrong was the most Dick ever got out of him. It was the third year in a row this happened, and around the same time. Apparently needles are part of this apology.

             Dick really hopes Damian manages to meet the person face to face this time. He has a feeling the person Damian’s apologizing to might be a civilian by Bat standards, and is probably missing Damian’s message completely. Maybe Dick would check up on him tomorrow—Gotham wait for no one and apparently Nightwing is the only responsible Bat at the moment. Thank god for Oracle’s Birds of Prey and the other vigilantes Gotham’s collected over the years. Dick doesn’t want to think about what would happen if this happened without them all.

--

PART FOUR HERE

Thanks for waiting on the update. Working with burned hand so it will take longer for the next installments. Mostly planned for the next chapter but character will do what they want and highjack my writing constantly. Things are moving forward (somewhat) on the Bats and JL end, while Miraculous Team stands with their leader, Ladybug, and aren’t ready to let Anyone threaten her.

this makes for a set-up for much to go Wrong. Feel free to add to the upcoming chaos or put in things youd like to see happen in the comments or by messaging me. 

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06

[ladylore97]

SU FF Deleted Scene: Making Amends, Chapter 11

Words: 2790 (it was a long one to cut!) Summary: Steven and Spinel are established friends. Steven invites Spinel to stay over and have a slumber party. Spinel has a nightmare and Steven comforts her.  Warnings: Panic attack, nightmares.  Ships: One-sided Stevinel(?). Spinel has a big fat crush on Steven, and Steven is in a happy relationship with Connie. Nothing that deviates from canon other than the fact that they are close friends. 

You can read the full story on AO3 or on FF.net

(I literally don’t remember what dialogue I took out before this but basically it’s getting late and Steven and Spinel are deciding what to do)

“You can take the pad upstairs back to Homeworld if you want. Or you can spend the night. I won’t be doing much, though. Humans have to sleep for about eight hours every day to recharge. If we don’t we get really slow and cranky and could even get sick.” Eight hours every day? That sounded inconvenient.

“What’s sleep?”

“Oh, it’s when you close your eyes and get comfy and let your brain shut off for a bit.”

“Oh! I did that sometimes. Never that long, though.” Not until after the initial 3,000 years, when Spinel dared to occupy herself with any activity that would hurt her chances of hearing that desired sound of a warp pad activating. She had learned to be the lightest of resters, closing her eyes for only a few minutes, ears vigilantly trained to hear even the slightest sound from the warp pad.

“You can try it if you want, and if you don’t like it you can use the warp to go back home or hang out in Little Homeworld or whatever you want to do while I sleep.”

“I’ll…try it,”she said after a moment of thought, “Yeah, who knows? It might be fun.” Steven beamed, and her doubts were instantaneously lifted.

“Alright, slumber party! I’ll get out a sleeping bag.” She followed him around the house with an air of excitement, nervously anticipating a different experience with rest than the one she had before. With the comfort of Steven in the room and nothing to vigilantly listen for, nothing to keep her from snapping back awake, maybe Spinel would actually enjoy sleeping.

“Here you go! I even found my old cuddle buddy for you – M.C. Bear Bear! He was a favorite back in the day,”he said, proudly handing her a stuffed….well, Spinel didn’t quite know what it was. But it was soft in her hand, and the fact that it was a treasured object of Steven’s made her smile. She held it against her chest while Steven arranged her pillows, privately taking a moment to inhale its scent. It smelled distinctly of Steven mixed with the must of dust.

“All set! First time sleepers, get comfy and warm under the blankets, close your eyes and try to think of nothing. Or count backwards from 100. Math always tires me out.” Spinel did as he suggested and apprehensively watched him climb into his own bed, then she laid down on the sleeping bag on the floor. She laid her head on the pillow the way he did, curling her body toward Steven’s bed and holding his bear tightly against her, her nose buried into the back of its head.

“I’m going to go to sleep now. If you can’t or wake up before me, you’re welcome to get up and do whatever you want. Just try to be quiet if you can. Night, Spinel.”

“Good night…” She listened intently, curiously waiting for a sign that would tell her what to expect from sleeping. She found it when Steven’s breathing began to even out and he had stopped moving as much. Spinel let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, realizing it was her turn. Closing her eyes, she tried to get comfortable. The room was dark, like the garden had been, but she wasn’t alone this time. There was nothing to fear here, she reminded herself. Nothing she had to stay awake for. Nothing she had to force her eyes open to see. Steven was here, and she could rest.

Spinel didn’t realize she had slipped into sleep until she was met by a vision entirely different than the floor of Steven’s room. She was back in the garden, her feet tethered to the ground by familiar vines and grassy debris. A beam of light ahead of her made Spinel’s gem feel like it had leapt out of her chest.

Pink Diamond walked slowly toward her, the frown on her face deep and impossible to ignore.

“You couldn’t do it, could you? You couldn’t even do one simply thing for me. Even though they were such easy rules.”

“Pink! I’ve stood still this whole time, just like you said. I-I’ve been good, I promise I have!” The elation of finally seeing her friend’s face was drowned out by the sudden terror that seized her. Pink was looking at her with such disappointment.

“You lost, Spinel. And now…” The stars in the sky began to blink out, one by one, until it was just Spinel and Pink, swallowed by darkness. From the dark, a pink shape emerged, larger and larger until Spinel’s injector filled her vision, its sheathed base hovering threateningly above her.

“…I don’t need this garden any more than I need you.”

“Pink…” Her diamond turned, and Spinel was helpless to run after her as the vines around her legs tightened their grip. The injector rotated above her, its drill head emerging and taking aim, but Spinel hardly noticed it. For all her power, she suddenly couldn’t stretch, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but watch Pink walk back to the warp pad. Her hands remained locked tight in the position she had waited in, impossible to move.

“PINK!”she screamed, but nothing came out, and the injector made its mark. Spinel sat up with a start, her face already streaked with tears as she looked around Steven’s room. A choked sob burst from her throat before she could slap her hand over her mouth, remembering too late that she needed to be quiet to let Steven sleep. Steven stirred slightly from his place in his bed.

“Spinel? Spinel, are you okay?” Spinel couldn’t move, her hands tightly pressed against her mouth, silent and speechless as she was in her dream. A dim light illuminated the room next to them as Steven reached for his salt lamp in the dark. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn her head to see the surprise on his face.

“Spinel! What happened?” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. The very particles in the air around her seemed to have frozen, sound suspended, time stopped.

“…Did you have a bad dream?” Steven’s voice was drifting, muddled and distant, as if he was speaking underwater. She clung to it, faint as it was. A dream? What was he talking about?

“…I can’t move,”she whispered, so softly he barely heard her over the muffle of her hand over her mouth.

“You can move now. It was just a dream, Spinel.” She could barely hear him. Her legs felt like lead, too heavy to lift, a permanent fixture to the floor. Fear flooded her as she wondered if this was just part of Pink’s punishment, to keep her from moving forever, trapped in one place for all eternity.

“I-I can’t move,”she repeated, voicing the only piece of truth in her otherwise disorienting world. Her vision swam, the world veiled in distortion as tears burned her eyes. Though she couldn’t see, she could feel someone’s hands, big and warm, coming up to gently tug her hands away from her mouth. His voice sounded far, far away, as inaccessible as the warp pad had been, even though both Steven and the portal were right in front of her.

“…-ome on, that’s it. It’s okay, Spinel. Just look at me and breathe.” Except she couldn’t. She couldn’t move, couldn’t see or hear Steven, and the more she tried, the more she panicked. Vaguely she registered a firm warmth wrapping around her, and a faint voice whispering in her ear. Tears streamed down her face as she focused on that voice – the only sound that felt remotely real.

“It’s okay, I’m here,”it was saying, “Just breathe in and out with me. I’ll count.” And then she heard numbers. Yes, she could focus on numbers. Numbers were familiar – a counting game she knew well how to play. She let the voice count for her, squeezing her eyes shut to anything else, letting its warmth and deep cadences gently relax her. It didn’t matter what the voice was saying. It didn’t matter if she had to wait a little longer, she tried to tell herself. Do what you did countless nights when the worry and the fear became too much. Just count. Count until you forget your place, and then start again. Nothing else matters except for the next number. Forget your worries, forget your sadness. Just count. Spinel closed her eyes and focused.

She had lost count of what number she had ended up on when she realized the warmth she had felt was Steven holding her. The voice, she finally recognized, was Steven’s, still gently whispering soothing assurances to her. Other sensations began to register as well – the fact that she had been crying, the wetness on his shoulder where her cheek rested, the tightness in her hands as she clenched fistfuls of his pajama shirt. He must have sensed that something in her had shifted, because he gently released her to lean back and look at her. Her tears welled and spilled over, freeing her vision to see Steven’s concerned face. Steven’s eyes, reflecting hers. Steven’s hands, holding hers. It was the most welcome sight in the world, she thought with a shaking sigh of relief. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter where she was, or whether she was stuck in it or not. If Steven was here, she would be okay.

“…There you are,”he sighed with relief, gently cupping her face with his hand. The gesture was too much in her sensitive state - so painfully sweet, and so undeserved for such a wreck like her. Her welled-up tears spilled over onto already damp cheeks as she leaned into his hand, a soft whimper escaping her throat before she could stop it. He was too good, much too good for her. He deserved so much more than his mother’s hand-me-down broken toy, and yet… Her fingers had curled around his without realizing, anchoring her worthless, unwanted self to him, as if she had any right. With a half-broken sob she fell face forward into his chest, the silk of his pajamas soaking up her tears and her arms instinctually wrapping tightly around him.

“I’m sorry,”she sobbed, though of what, she couldn’t say. There was simply too much to be sorry for. For being such a fool, for being so forgettable, for being such a mess and a bother – he could take his pick. His arms came around her regardless, encasing her in his warmth.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you just had a little panic attack. You’re okay. Whatever you saw when you were sleeping, it’s not real. They’re just pictures in your head when you sleep.”

“You didn’t tell me that could happen,”she accused, her fingers clenching tightly around the fabric of his pajamas. She felt his hand gently touch the back of her head.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think your first dream would be a nightmare.”

“I d-don’t wanna ever d-do that again,”she sobbed, hiding her face in his shoulder. Steven held her against him, tiredly petting her hair as she sobbed, her arms coiling tighter around him of their own volition.

“You don’t have to. You’re safe now.”

“She was so angry and disappointed with me,”she blurted out without thinking, “She wanted me shattered.” Steven squeezed her tighter, knowing full well who she was talking about.

“She’s not here anymore. It’s just us, now.” Spinel’s arms made another loop around his shoulders.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be anywhere she touched right now.” Steven thought for a moment. Tired as he was, even he knew Spinel wasn’t in any state to wait quietly in the dark for him to sleep, and he wasn’t in any state to pull an all-nighter staying up with her.

Exhaustion smashed any reservations. “Just stay here tonight. You can stay by me until I wake up. You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to.” Spinel slowly sat up to look at him, her eyes still wet and glassy.

“You won’t leave?”

“Of course not. I promise, I’ll stay right here with you.” He patted the space above them, motioning for her to join him at the edge of the bed. It took a long while until she was calm enough to move, but when she did she followed him onto his bed, looking apprehensive as he resumed his position laying down, their hands still tightly connected. He looked over to see she hadn’t moved to lie down yet, staring at him with glassy, frightened eyes.

“What’s wrong? You look scared.”

“Are you going to leave to a different place when you start dreaming?” Steven yawned, too tired for the philosophical implications of the question. He motioned for her other hand and gently guided her down to his side.

“Nobody disappears, Spinel. Dreams are just stories projected in your head. My body won’t move if I start dreaming, so I’ll be right here.” His answer didn’t seem to ease Spinel’s nerves. Steven could feel the pull of sleep weighing on him, heavy and thick.

“If you’re worried I’ll move, you can hold my hand while I sleep.”

“You won’t let go?”

“I won’t let go,”he promised, “Just, don’t talk too much, okay? I can’t talk and sleep at the same time.”

“…Okay,”she answered, her voice dropping down to a whisper as she stretched her hand to gently clasp his. In a matter of seconds his hand had gone limp in hers, but still she held on. His hand fit nicely in hers, large and warm and soft. Calloused fingertips, rough from years of playing guitar, gently curled around her gloved hand, a safe anchor in her otherwise tumultuous storm. She was safe here. She was safe with Steven.

Slowly she laid her head down on the bed, watching him studiously in the dim light of the stars from the window. His chest rose and fell evenly with each breath, hypnotic and calming. The sound was the only noise permeating the otherwise perfect quiet left behind by Spinel’s previous crying. Spinel couldn’t help but close her eyes and savor the sound - soothing, repetitive, grounding. The peace she felt laying by Steven was in such stark contrast to the panic just moments ago.

“You’re still shaking,”his voice cut through the silence, soft and sleepy. Shame filled her – she couldn’t even hold his hand without keeping him awake.

“M’sorry! I was starting to calm down a little, I promise. I’ll be quiet for you.” A beat of silence as Steven seemed to register what she said at half the normal processing speed. Then sluggishly he extended an arm to her, lazily wiggling his fingers to beckon her closer. She took the invitation with tentative surprise, scooting closer to the boy nodding off until they were just barely touching. Her figurative heart lurched a little as his arm came around her, cacooning her in a loose embrace.

“Better?”he mumbled, barely awake. She felt her cheeks flush at their proximity, all thoughts of fear and insecurity wiped from her mind instantaneously and replaced with the single all-consuming though: Steven is holding me.

“Y-yes,”Spinel stammered. She was surrounded on all sides by a comforting warmth that could only be Steven’s body heat. His arm around her back, his body protecting her front, there was nothing that could touch Spinel here. With nowhere else to put it, her free hand tentatively rested against his chest.

Daring herself to try to relax despite being wide awake now, Spinel allowed her head to very slowly lower onto Steven’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her now sleeping companion. Absently her thumb stroked the back of the hand that was resting around her waist, attempting to calm herself with the simple grounding gesture, even though her senses felt on fire. It didn’t take long for her previous terror to melt away into something softer.

There was a stillness in sleep unmatched by any quiet Spinel had experienced before, even in the garden. She couldn’t help but stare, taking in the sight of her most important friend in the universe, trusting her to be so close to him at his most vulnerable. How many people got to see this – this total surrender and trust to someone when he was completely defenseless? Spinel hardly felt worthy of it – no, she knew she wasn’t worthy of it. And yet Steven gave it nonetheless, comforting her as best he could simply because he could. Her hand tightened around his instinctually, her thumb gently brushing over large, warm fingers. He was so kind, so good. She dared to lean in closer to allow their foreheads to touch, breathing in his warmth, his patience. She felt so safe, like the wounds of the past simply didn’t matter here. 

(the ending is the same as in the full chapter, maybe go read it wink wink ;)

[twiceblackvelvet]

Whose Voice Is It Anyway?

A/N; this idea randomly sprung into my head at 2 am one night and has haunted me since. so i had to try and bring it to life. enjoy. 

The white walls surrounding the closet area have become a well-known back-drop as of late. The majority of the videos created within this space usually include ridiculous dancing or lip-syncing to silly voice-overs, but today is more of a laid-back style of simply speaking to fans or anyone who happens to drop by the live stream. She gives herself a once over in the mirror and then on the screen before finally hitting the live option on her phone. 

A few people immediately join and begin spamming the comment section with emojis, a few say hello whilst others flat out say “I love you,” which earns an internal chuckle for a response. 

“Hello!” Jessica’s voice goes up a pitch with excitement seeing all of the people merrily interacting among themselves until random questions begin to pour in. “I’m at home right now, I just wanted to speak to you all, how are you guys?” 

Light slow-tempo music fills up the silence around her, not wishing for the atmosphere to be awkward as she reads the many things flying up the screen too fast for her to be able to comprehend what most of them are saying. 

“A new video? It’ll be out on Wednesday! Are you looking forward to it?” She asks after multiple people spammed about a new JessicaLand upload. A tonne of reassurances that people are indeed enjoying her content flows afterward. “I was so worried no one would watch but you all seem to like it a lot, it makes me so happy, in fact, we should probably change this!” 

She shuffles around briefly with the camera not showing her arm stretching out for the device that is playing the background music until she pulls it into view. 

“This music is too sad if we’re all in a good mood, let’s change it,” She readjusts herself upon seeing her reflection on the screen isn’t showing her face properly before speaking again. “Alexa, play happy music.” 

The Echo flashes a blue ring around the top to show it has registered her request and immediately switches to a more upbeat pop song. The lyrics evade Jessica’s mind briefly but eventually, she catches onto which song it is and sings along to some of the words whilst reading the various comments. 

“How are you guys?” She asks curiously. “Are you all taking care of yourselves?” 

A stream of responses floats up the screen at a rapid speed, some positive, a few negative, and the rest not even answering the question and instead, hurling their own back toward her. A steady conversation ensues discussing the possibility of a new album, Blanc & Eclare’s latest collection as well as what Soojung has been up to recently. 

The music playing in the background soon changes to a more doo-wop, R&B sounding melody with what Jessica thinks is a beautiful voice singing along to it. She begins to hum along with it herself mindlessly. 

“Wow, isn’t this song pretty everyone? The voice is so beautiful, I could fall asleep listening to it.” 

Her words are aimed towards no one, in particular, however, the startling response of people seemingly losing their minds after her compliment is rather confusing. Many people spam expletives, some simply repeat the word “omg” a bunch of times. Just as she’s about to ask what has caused this sudden uproar, it finally clicks when she sees her name repeated in some of the comments and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

Taeyeon. 

Without even realizing it, she had not only managed to sit and listen along to Taeyeon’s voice singing beautifully without noticing who it was nor did her brain recognize the signature voice of her former group-mate, but she had complimented her in front of thousands of people. The first time she’s acknowledged her existence in years and it’s by far the most embarrassing way to do so humanly possible, Jessica thinks. 

She quickly scrambles to change the song to something, anything other than what is playing, however, the damage if you wish to call it that has already been done. 

As yet another airy pop song replaces the sweet tone of Taeyeon, Jessica is frozen in place and unable to figure out what to do or say next to everyone still collectively losing their minds over this brief interaction and nod to her former life. 

Despite it being probably the worst way to move on from this blip, she decides to simply ignore it and pretend that it didn’t just happen with many witnesses who will no doubt rush to discuss it elsewhere and hopes that continuing the live will distract them from it altogether. 

It doesn’t.

The conversation between herself and fans continues for another ten minutes, though, it’s a lot more difficult to find talking points now among the sea of people simply plastering Taeyeon’s name but she manages until it all becomes a little too much. 

“I have to go now guys, but I hope you all remain well. I’ll see you all next time,” she waves goodbye to the screen and brings the live to an end with a deep sigh. 

It doesn’t take long for both Jessica and Taeyeon’s names to trend on various social platforms, in fact, it’s rather impressive how quickly the news of it spread. Some fans initially couldn’t believe that such a thing would happen and put it down to people making something up to fit their narrative. However, when someone eventually revealed they had managed to screen record most of the live including what Jessica had said about Taeyeon, any and all doubts were put to rest. 

In turn, it didn’t take much longer for news to reach Taeyeon either. 

Sitting inside the back of a small coffee shop, hidden away enough that people won’t bother her with a manager flanked on the opposite side of the table. The steam from the warm drinks is Taeyeon’s only focus, watching it swirl out of the small cup forcing her to zone out a little. 

“Taeyeon, look at this.” 

The words alone cause a rush of anxiety to build up in the pit of her stomach, even more so once he places his phone in front of her showing the trending topics page. A headline reading ‘Jessica forgets Taeyeon’s voice’ sitting atop the page. She decides to read through the article, though she mentally refuses to acknowledge it’s because she’s intrigued. Instead trying and failing to convince herself it’s just because she has no idea what it could possibly be about, and yet, it makes her sad regardless.

It’s not that Taeyeon expected Jessica to remember what her voice sounded like after so long apart, but to have her forget it completely feels painful somewhere deep down inside in a place buried long ago and forgotten. The only saving grace being that Jessica complimented her before she realized who it was she was praising. Taeyeon chuckles to herself at just how air-headed Jessica clearly can still be at times. 

The phone is quickly handed back to her manager as she scoops her own out of her jacket pocket. Her thumbs instinctively begin to type out a text message. 

“How could you possibly forget?” 

“Has it really been so long you don’t know what I sound like now?” 

“Don’t you listen to my music nowadays?” 

All of the possible things she could say to Jessica end up deleted. Her thoughts all begin to muddle into one until eventually, she closes the messages app after growing unsure of whether to bother sending her a text message after all of this time. She may not even have the same number. Instead, she hesitantly opens up Instagram, heads toward the story option, and snaps a picture of her coffee sitting atop the table. The pattern the barista managed to form being of a small heart. 

She begins to type out a small message to go along with the picture and publishes it without thinking twice. 

A few moments pass before the manager once again startles her out of her reverie. 

“Do you know that you posted this?” He turns his screen to face her with the Instagram story of her coffee pulled up on it this time, pointing towards her words clear as day below the image of the cup. 

“Yes.” is all she offers as a response and returns back to staring anywhere but at him or the phone. 

“Don’t you think it will make matters worse?” 

“It’ll be fine, it’s about time.” 

The two names continue to trend with more and more people discussing the two former group-mates except now, more specifically,  what Taeyeon’s words in response to Jessica could mean for them both. 

“Your voice is still beautiful too.” 

Jessica doesn’t see the story herself, not wishing to fall down the rabbit hole that is Taeyeon if she happens to look at the many pictures depicting her life now. However, she does see the many screenshots people tag her in for days afterward. 

She would be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel all the things and more that Taeyeon now sings about. 

Happiness.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

In Another Life - Part 2

Masterlist (x)       

       English is not my first language      → I do not own anything of the TVD - Universe and I’m not affiliated or                   associated with the writers etc. this is only a headcanon.

Pairing: Kalijah ( Katherine / Elijah )

Setting: The Originals 1x06, TVD Post 5x08, cured Katherine.

TW: -

Word Count: 2.169

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The soft classical music in the background mediated a peaceful environment -- yet peaceful isn't the word Elijah would use when describing the atmosphere. The air is still heavy with his brother's betrayal. Leaning back in his armchair, Elijah flipped a page of his mother's grimoire and tried to ignore the piercing smell of fresh blood dropping on the two-hundred-year-old carpet.

"So, this is what you do the first time we're back together as a family? Vampire book club?", the voice of his sister cut through the seemingly peaceful silence. Elijah didn't bother to look up, instead, his eyes focused on the letters written in old Norse, hoping to finally find the thing he's been looking for the past thirty minutes.

"Reading edifies the mind, sister. Isn't that right, Elijah?" Niklaus answered and Elijah really had to bit his tongue in order to not make a snarky comment. At first, he had been alone in the sunny living room, hoping for some quiet time while searching for a certain spell. Preferably without his brother's knowledge. But for some reason, Niklaus suddenly had the desire to join him, picking a collection of poems he sought to read. How odd, considering he had maliciously daggered him and put him in a box for almost three months in order to use his lifeless body as a pledge.

"Yes, that's quite right, Niklaus," he replied out of politeness towards his sister. If his brother thought that's how he would start talking to him again, he's terribly mistaken.

"And what's this business?" Elijah didn't even have to look up in order to know what Rebekah meant. The unlucky young woman who was unfortunate enough to run into Niklaus' arms.

"This is .... " it is hard to find a word to describe what it is. Niklaus’ way of trying to smooth things over? Because he thinks forgiveness for his unacceptable behavior could be bought?

"I presumed, after so much time desiccating in a coffin, that my big brother might be a bit peckish." Elijah let out a small breath, his jaw clenching a bit. His poor brother really has no idea what it meant to earn forgiveness. Or perhaps he simply didn't regret what he had done after all.

"And I explained to my little brother that forgiveness cannot be bought. I'd simply prefer to see a change in behavior that indicates contrition and personal growth -- not this nonsense." Elijah finally closed the grimoire and looked at the girl and the small red puddle on the expensive carpet. Offering him food like he'd be a starved animal is a ridiculous attempt of an excuse.

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and put the grimoire back into the shelf. Clearly there's too much distraction to focus properly.

"If you’ll excuse me," and with those words, he left his two siblings.

xxx

Returning to his study, Elijah walked straight to his phone laying on his desk which had just finished charging. Truth be told, he hadn't paid his mobile device much attention the past months. Shortly after he had moved to New Orleans, life had been particular ... diversified. With enemies around every corner in the city that they had once called home and a brother who stubbornly had tried to sabotage the only chance of this family's happiness, there wasn't much time left to pay attention to anything else. Spending almost three months in a coffin had not helped either.

Elijah started his phone, surprised it's still working and not deeply discharged after all the time while looking out the window and taking in the beautiful sight of the fruit trees around their house. They are going to switch locations soon, away from the plantation and towards the city. He just hoped moving closer won't bring too much trouble.

A short vibration led his attention back the phone in his hands as it had finished starting. After tipping in his code, his phone plopped up several notifications. Missed calls, messages, updates... Elijah chose to ignore the updates and took a quick look over his messages. Most informed him just about missed calls, the other ones were sent by his sister over a period of a few weeks, ranging from simple questions to slightly offensive messages to honest concern when he hadn't answered them.

And how could he? During that time, his little brother had long stabbed a dagger through his heart and practically sold his body to his family's enemies.

Elijah shook his head, a fit of growing anger in his chest which made his jaw clench.

And still, instead of an honest apology, Niklaus choose to appease his foul mood by offering him a dead girl.

No idea how long Niklaus thought of keeping him in that box, how long he was supposed to play pledge. Another few months? Years? Centuries? Put away and forgotten? Just because Niklaus feared his child is going to grow up and calls Elijah father instead of him? Taking over his brother's position was by far not in Elijah's interest. Shouldn't Niklaus know how important family is to him? How far he'd go to protect his family and ensure Niklaus' redemption?

Stealing his brother's child is by far the last thing Elijah ever thought of doing but knowing how paranoid Niklaus tends to be, it doesn't surprise him that Niklaus feared his influence. Although that's still no excuse for what he has done to him.

If he were more attentive to the mother of his child, if he were to treat her with more respect, Elijah wouldn't have to interfere.

Choosing to delete the messages because they were no longer needed and solved, Elijah leaned against his desk while appreciating his sister's efforts. It had been Rebekah who had looked after him, who had ensured to find him. And for that, he's thankful because Elijah is almost sure Niklaus would have left him to rot for at least a few more months.

The missed calls were almost consistent with the messages. Most calls were from Rebekah or from people which worked for him. He still preferred to be independent. After years of being alone and loathing Niklaus, even seeking revenge against him because he claimed he had dumped their siblings into the ocean and therefore making it impossible to find them again, Elijah came to the conclusion it's better to not share everything with his brother. The next fit of rage will sooner or later come again and sometimes it's better to not trust his little brother who undoubtedly will turn everything against him if he has found another of his tiring reasons to punish his siblings.

Elijah had spent years finding his own witches, his own minions which were loyal only to him. And finding loyalty is a difficult thing in this world. Often he had to get rid of the people who had sworn loyalty towards him but chose other things behind his back.

He doesn't take betrayal easily. It's punished with death. And death will find them, even if it takes centuries. Trevor is the best example. On the run for almost half a Millenium and thinking he's deserving to be granted forgiveness just because Elijah had granted his companion Rose merci. Rose had aided him because she was loyal to Trevor. But Trevor's loyalty? Where had it been? He had willingly chosen to betray Elijah in a more than important matter and for that, he had paid with his life.

This fate shall be descended to anyone who thinks betrayal shall go unpunished.

Elijah's raising rage settled a bit the more missed calls he deleted but noted to make sure to check upon his people soon in the next time.

He almost reached the end of the list of his missed calls when he notices something odd. Several calls from a suppressed and later from an unknown number during a short amount of time. He didn't recognize that numbers, but the area code suggests the same place.

Elijah frowned as he didn't recall waiting for anything important during that time. He is sure he hadn't been expecting someone either. The date of the time of those calls was shortly after the time he had been daggered. Is it connected to that negative event?

He highly doubted it because if it were connected to being daggered, the caller would have known he's currently ... unavailable.

Elijah shifted his weigh, his back still leaning against his wooden mahogany desk, thinking about if he had missed a detail. Only a few people had his numbers. Of course, there are always some people who called his number by accident but that rarely happens.

Putting a hand in his pocket, he thoughtfully raised his phone and tapped it onto his chin, while trying to make sense of those mysterious calls. At the same time, he focused his attention downstairs in order to check if everything's okay. Rebekah wasn't too pleased with the recent events and they all tend to have a rather heated temper. Fortunately, his sister still seemed to be busy with the stained rug although it surprised him Rebekah put that much of an effort into it. He guessed she's almost finished with it as he could hear water being turned on and a bin emptied.

That distracted him for a little while before his attention returned back to the phone in his hand whose screen had already turned black. Turning it back on, Elijah chose to scroll past the suppressed and unknown numbers because he couldn't for the sake of his life remember what it was that person had wanted. Or who that person even is.

He had almost reached the end of his missed calls, now dated to a time shortly before he had been daggered. He remembers being pretty occupied back then with protecting the mother of his unborn niece while trying to talk some sense into Niklaus. That effort had ultimately ended in him being coldly daggered and stuffed in a box.

The corner of his lips dropped in a sudden twist of mood, the anger buried deep underneath the surface threatening to break out again.

Focus, he told himself.

His fingers brushed over the screen again, scrolling past unknown numbers until it suddenly started to show a name at the end of the list. A few days before he had been daggered.

Katerina.

A sudden coldness took hold over his heart as he looked over all the times Katerina had tried to call him. Twenty times within a few days. Judging by the date and time, the close proximity to the unknown and even suppressed calls, Elijah had to assume that had been Katerina as well.

His breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't help the cold shiver running down his spine.

Elijah knew Katerina too well. He knew she wouldn't try to reach out to him after he had basically left her standing in his old family's mansion in Mystic Falls. Elijah knew that Katerina has way too much pride to contact him again, at least not in the next few decades. He knew that no matter the circumstances, Katerina wouldn't contact or call him. He is aware that he had hurt her too much although it's not like Katerina thinks.

He hasn't had another choice.

There's panic flooding him as he looked at all the missed calls within a few days. She had tried to reach him over a period of one and a half weeks -- first by calling him with her phone, then choosing other phones before she chose to suppress the number completely, making him assume that Katerina must believe he didn't wish to speak with her.

Worry merged with the panic in his heart as he quickly dialed her number.

He knew Katerina too well to know she wouldn't try to reach out to him if it weren't something urgent. Something more than urgent.

Seconds felt like minutes as time passed and she didn't pick up her phone. Elijah tried two times, three times, then even tried different numbers he knew they belonged to her with the same result: She didn't pick up the phone.

A low growl escaped his lips, hand ruffling through his hair in frustration. While Katerina had every right to not pick up the phone when seeing his number, he had a feeling that's not the reason for it. He knew, almost painfully knew, that something must have happened to her.

Katerina had called him at least twenty times with different numbers. She must have been desperate to reach him, to talk to him. Whatever it was, it was more than urgent and now he cannot reach her. It drove him mad.

A silent curse left his lips and he almost slammed his phone down his desk when he couldn't reach Katerina for the sixth time.

Fortunately, the clicking of heels and the swift move of blond hair passing his open door attracted his attention.

"Rebekah? A moment please!"

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A/N: The first part of the dialog is from the show, I know. Elijah knows something must have happened to Katherine but will Rebekah tell the truth?

If you like the story, please hit the heart and feel free to leave feedback (no hate please ♥)

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Hiccup + Astrid Relationship - Analysis + Thoughts

It’s no secret that I am a hardcore Hiccstrid shipper - my username is literally Hiccstrid-related in the most obvious way. I’ve been thinking a lot about their relationship, and how it developed over the course of the movies and television show, and I wanted to write all my thoughts/analysis in one place.

This ended up WAY longer than I thought it would, but I’m aware that people don’t want their dashboards clogged with it, so it’s under a “read more”.

Spoilers for all three HTTYD movies, Riders of Berk, Defenders of Berk and Race to the Edge under the cut!

I think what I love the most about Hiccup and Astrid’s relationship is how it progressed so healthily and naturally.

Let’s go back to the very beginning of the first movie; Hiccup is seen as an outcast in the village, a social pariah, the Chief’s “little disappointment”. Astrid is the ideal Viking - she’s strong, beautiful, handy with an axe and brave. We see that Hiccup basically has a very big crush on her, is in awe of her and who she is - or, at least, who he thinks she is. It’s very much akin to a fanboy crush. On Astrid’s side, it’s almost-indifference - she doesn’t pay him much attention or associate herself with him, perhaps because her family name is already mocked due to her uncle “freezing” in front of the Flightmare, and associating with Hiccup (the village disappointment) would definitely have made her life more difficult. Having said that, she doesn’t bully him like the other teenagers do, nor does she stop them from doing it to him - she tries to keep neutral for the most part.

Fast forward to dragon training. Suddenly Hiccup is showing surprising skill in the arena - and Astrid is mad because she was supposed to be top of the class, because earning the right to kill the Monstrous Nightmare would prove that she’s Viking enough, it would bring pride to her family. Suddenly Hiccup is taking over, and it frustrates her because NEVER has he shown any kind of skill with dragons before - it feels like everything she’s been working for since she was old enough to hold an axe is being swept away because of him. It’s infuriating, even more so because he acts weird about it and sneaks off every day, like he has a secret.

America Ferrera: In the first film, she was thinking: ‘Who is this guy? Why should he get to be the Chief of Berk when I’ve worked hard my whole life?’

And then there’s the Romantic Flight - and this changes something. Suddenly she starts to see a whole new perspective on things, on dragons - and, importantly, on Hiccup. He’s the one who shows her all of this new stuff from the back of a dragon he trained, and that’s when she starts to have some admiration for him in turn. From that point onwards, having been shown a new perspective on everything, she relaxes and is more friendly to him.

Over the course of the three TV shows, we get to see them actually get to know each other - they’re friends (despite the few kisses as teens). We see that Astrid respects Hiccup as a leader, and that in turn he trusts her to be in charge when he’s not around. They definitely care about each other and worry over each other more than the other teens when in danger.

And here’s where the relationship really becomes beautiful - them actually really getting to know each other.

Astrid no longer sees Hiccup as a nuisance or a runt or even weaker than herself - she grows and has respect for him. She loosens up a little, starts allowing herself to have fun. More importantly, Hiccup stops seeing Astrid as a prize to be won or a goddess/angel. That fanboy crush fades into actual feelings for who she actually is. It’s no longer “Astrid is every Viking boy’s dream girl” but “Astrid is brave, loyal, I can trust her, she has a good heart” etc. He sees her bond with Stormfly, that she’s willing to risk her life for what is right, for these creatures that need their help. But she’s also not going to blindly follow him - they can banter and fondly tease each other without worrying they’ll offend the other, because they have a friendship forming.

Hiccup never stops wanting to be with Astrid - now it’s just more “I actually love her for who she is” and less “she’s awesome and the best Viking” kind of thing. It’s not just “she’s pretty and every guy’s dream girl”, it’s the fact he actually knows her and likes her for who she actually is as opposed to some projection his mind has of her. He sees her as an actual human being - and he loves her for who she is.

Their relationship only grows stronger through the years, probably because they already have their friendship as a foundation for their romance. They know each other’s limits, they know what makes the other uncomfortable, and they respect each other’s boundaries. Any issues that they have in their relationship are solved near the beginning of their romance; they make it clear that they don’t want their romance affecting their work as Dragon Riders, or how they interact with everyone else. When they run into a bump with Astrid feeling like Hiccup doesn’t care, like she’s invisible, they end up talking it out like adults. She apologizes for overreacting, and he apologizes for taking her for granted - because they both recognize that there’s no one person to blame, it takes two to make the relationship work.

By the second movie, it’s clear that they’ve gone past both the honeymoon and the rocky stage; Hiccup lets her help him with the map, Astrid gives him reassurance that what he’s searching for isn’t out in the unexplored world but inside of him - because he doesn’t need to prove himself, not to her, she knows who he is and she loves him for both the good and the bad. Astrid comforts him when his father is killed, even though she’s mourning the death of her Chief too, and is supportive when Hiccup has to step up and be Chief - she knows he can do it, that he will be a good Chief in his own way. 

America Ferrera: But this time she’s his number one supporter because she sees that he’s special and totally capable of leadership. he is a partner in his adventure.

America Ferrera: They’re both incredibly independent spirits and very independent in their own rights, but are incredibly supportive of one another. Astrid is Hiccup’s number one defender and champion but also her own leader in her own right.

The third film just proves it even more. Both of them seem to know that one day they’ll be married - they’ve been together for years - but Astrid especially knows now is not the time. She knows that Hiccup relies on Toothless, she doesn’t get mad about it but she knows that so long as he’s so focused on Toothless, it’s pointless to try and compete. In a deleted scene she even says that she’s not opposed to the idea of marrying him, but she doesn’t want to get married for the sake of getting married - it has to be the right time, and that time isn’t now. “He thinks he’s nothing without Toothless” she tells Valka, and she recognizes Hiccup’s reliance on Toothless. She doesn’t want to replace Toothless - no one can do that - but she finds her own way to support Hiccup when he needs it most. She takes him to the Hidden World, and is visibly concerned when Hiccup is upset - they both see that Toothless is where he belongs. She doesn’t need to say anything sometimes, she just knows she has to be there for him - she doesn’t resent him for that, she just knows that this is difficult for him because of how much he relies on Toothless, how much of his own value he attributes to the Night Fury.

As Valka says, “he’ll listen to you” - and he does. It’s Astrid who inspires him in both the first and third movies to act. “What are you gonna do about it?” “Ehh...Probably something stupid”. She doesn’t just think Hiccup is valuable because he rides a Night Fury or because he’s the Chief - “I was the first to believe in you, and I have watched you doubt whether you’re worthy ever since” - she loves him for him, not for a dragon or title.

Perhaps the most interesting part of her speech on the cliff is when she admits that “I’m the person I am today because of you - I’ve never told you that but it’s true”. She’s not just saying that to make him feel better or to stroke his ego, it’s the truth. Because of Hiccup, she rode on Toothless and saw that everything she previously thought about dragons was wrong; because of Hiccup, she learned to train and befriend Stormfly (who she has such a close bond with to the point where she was willing to get herself poisoned by a Slitherwing to save her). Because of Hiccup, she’s no longer solely focused on being the ultimate Viking warrior - there’s a softer side to her that was always there but he brought out. 

Cate Blanchett: They’re absolute equals. They're competitors, they challenge one another, but they’re also able to be gentle with one another and tell the truth to one another.

Like Valka said in the deleted scene, “you bring out the best in each other” - Hiccup’s own mother recognizes that Astrid also has a positive effect on her son. No one else could have convinced him to do something crazy like get the rest of the gang to ride on dragons to defeat the Red Death, no one else could have inspired him on that cliff to come up with the plan of having everyone wearing the wings to soar through the air. In Race to the Edge, he even tells her straight out “I couldn’t have done any of this without you - not the dragon riders or the Edge”. If Astrid hadn’t been there to talk him through his darker/uncertain moments, he perhaps would have just stood there and been lost. A lot of Hiccup’s development is due to two people: Toothless and Astrid. Without the two of them, he wouldn’t be the Chief we see him as in the last film. Hiccup has the ideas - Astrid inspires him to develop and use them.

Jay Baruchel: They complement each other, y’know? Hiccup is 'reason' and Astrid is 'action'.

When Hiccup makes that final decision to let the dragons go, neither of them need to say anything to each other - they both look at each other and know. Astrid is the first one to undo her dragon’s saddle, to show that she will follow him and trust his decision. She stands by his side and supports him when he has just one leg, both before and while watching the dragons fly away.

And then there’s the wedding, of course. There seems to be only slight hesitation from Astrid, and that hesitation seems to be “I want to be sure he’s certain he’s ready” - and he is, by Thor, he is. You can see her little nod and wide smile as she takes his hands, as if silently saying “yeah, let’s do this - we’re ready”.

The look on his face when she takes his offered hands is full of pure love and adoration for her. It’s like he’s thinking “I am the luckiest man in the world”.

^Hes so in love, bless him

This relationship is about 6 years in the making, give or take (since we don’t really know how long it took to build New Berk - it seems like they maybe got married a few months after the dragons left). They’ve known each other most of their lives even before being in a relationship, even before being friends. There’s a trust and love betwen them that can’t be disputed. And here is the culmination of those 6-or-so-years - the two of them maturing as adults, taking that step together as they rule over their people, as they continue to try to build a better world without their dragons, one that will hopefully make it safe for dragons to return someday. When they kiss as husband and wife, he takes her face in his hand, and you can see the love and passion between them even in that simple kiss - it’s the start of their new lives together. It’s that air of “finally”.

Speaking of kisses, you can see the dynamic between them as it develops through the little touches and kisses, through every action.

In the first movie, Astrid has a little habit of punching or hitting Hiccup - and no, that’s not okay, but it was in no way to control or abuse him. She does it when he’s being weird in the cove, and then for lying to her. In the cove after flying Toothless, she punches him on the shoulder - but it’s not violent, it’s half-hearted, because she kisses his cheek immediately after. She also has a habit of doing it to the other dragon riders, so it’s not to control Hiccup or anything like that. To add, it’s obvious that young Vikings like to be rough - like Ruff and Tuff hitting each other.

“It’s not violence, it’s communication” — Astrid says this to Fishlegs in Riders/Defenders of Berk. Again, I’m not saying it’s okay to go around punching or hitting people, but I think it offers some insight into why she does it. Astrid isn’t comfortable with being open with her emotions at first, especially in regards to her growing feelings for Hiccup, and so I think for her that’s her way of saying “I kinda like him but I’m scared to admit it” or something. It’s like Ron and Hermione always bickering in Harry Potter, because there’s romantic tension that neither of them want to admit to. For her, I don’t think romance is something she’s comfortable with - it’s always been training and proving herself, and she wouldn’t have had time for thinking or wanting relationships since she wanted to be a shield-maiden/the best Viking warrior to prove herself/restore her family name.

Relating back to the above point, Astrid’s little punches/hits only seem to happen when they’re younger - as they get older, she stops completely. I think that’s because she matured and became more comfortable with expressing her feelings for Hiccup as well as in general.

In HTTYD2, she gives Hiccup an affectionate weak punch that activates the spring coil in his suit. His annoyance isn’t from being hit, but from the fact she’ll wear out the spring coil - that flight suit is pretty thick, to add, so I don’t think it particularly hurt him. The second time is not a punch or hit but her pressing the button intentionally. He’s not even that annoyed about it since he pulls her in for an intense kiss afterwards.

To my memory, she doesn’t once hit Hiccup in the third film. Any touches between them are softer, more care behind them

They do play-wrestle a little on the cliff, and that is started by Hiccup, who pulls her onto him after she makes a joke about Snotlout marrying his mum.

She tries to get away, laughing as he holds her/perhaps tickles her, and he says “no you’re not getting away!” - which is when she grins, grabs his wrist/arm and twists it behind his back until he yields and says “you win!”. After that, they briefly cuddle up to each other (“you knew what you were getting into” “uh-huh, right”) It’s purely all affectionate and loving, no harm done. They definitely seem comfortable to play-wrestle and tease each other.

Towards the end, Hiccup and Astrid rest their heads against each other, in this really beautiful moment where they don’t need to talk - the intimacy is obvious. You can also see him with his arm around her as she helps him stand without his prosthetic; they’re both close and comfortable, with her hand against his chest and his hand on her wrist, holding her close.

When they get married, Hiccup holds out his hands for her to take. He doesn’t just grab her hands, he gives her the decision - she can take his hands and marry him, or she’s fully able to turn around and say “I don’t think I’m ready”. Granted, it’s a bit late given that it’s a wedding ceremony and the whole of the village is watching, but he’s giving her that moment anyway - a last chance to back out. He’s giving her the choice to take his hands and get married once and for all. It makes it seem so much more mutual, in a way, like they’re both making that decision. Again, it’s just a nicer, more consenting action than just grabbing her hands in his own.

And yeah, she takes his hand - they’re in this together. She gives him that nod, a final little way of saying “yeah you dork, of course I’m going to marry you, I’m here, aren’t I?”

What’s also interesting about Hiccup and Astrid is that Hiccup definitely grows more comfortable with initiating, and he grows more comfortable with showing affection; you’ll see him taking Astrid’s hand, touching her arm, intitiating kisses, etc.

Speaking of kisses...

At first, Astrid initiates all the kisses. The two in the first film, Snoggletog, the one after the Thawfest games etc. These are all before their romance even properly starts. The kisses in the first film especially have her grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him in - not that he seems to mind that much.

Their first kiss in RTTE is more both of them leaning in at the same time - a mutual action to seal their newfound status as boyfriend/girlfriend.

In the early days of their relationship in RTTE, Astrid is the one who initiates kisses, and then it’s Hiccup who reciprocates - I think this reflects how their early relationship is, with Hiccup still being a little uncertain about it and waiting for Astrid to take the lead since he doesn’t want to push her or make her do anything she doesn’t want to at first. It also relates back to the fact that Astrid is more sure of herself, more confident, and more likely to take action whilst Hiccup thinks about things first

While she initiates, he always reciprocates - he’s clearly happy that she is kissing him, he’s just not ready to initiate it himself at first because he’s not as confident yet.

But then Hiccup grows more confident as the series progresses; he kisses her head or touches her slightly more and more. In Mi Amore Wing, it’s Hiccup who initiates a kiss and pulls Astrid towards him. Again, in the King of Dragons Part 2 (the series finale), it’s Hiccup who pulls Astrid back to him before she can run off and he kisses her - and she’s happy to let him do it.

In HTTYD 2, Astrid first gives Hiccup a kiss on the cheek; slightly later, Hiccup presses a kiss to the side of her head. Finally, towards the end, it’s Hiccup who reaches for Astrid, pulls her to him, and kisses her in front of everyone.

Finally, in HTTYD3, Hiccup initiates both of the cheek/side of the head kisses. First, when he’s making Toothless’ new tail and he pecks the side of her head after saying “it’s just until he brings her back”. Then there’s the side kiss on the cliff after she says “that’s the Hiccup I know”. He’s so much more sure of himself, so comfortable with their relationship, now as opposed to how it was in the first film/RoB/DoB

Finally, the wedding kiss. That’s another one where they both go in for it - the two of them lean in and meet halfway. It’s symbolic of how a marriage should work, both of them meeting in the middle and neither of them doing all the work. It’s a kiss that seals the deal, one that represents the beginning of their new life together, and how they will support each other in their marriage.

I love that they’re not afraid to disagree with one another - Astrid will not blindly follow Hiccup if she’s uncertain about one of his ideas, she will discuss it with him, and if all else fails, she’ll go with him to make sure he doesn’t get himself into danger. Astrid doesn’t stroke his ego or lie to him - on two separate occasions, she agrees that he’s messed up whilst he’s self-pitying himself; first in “Guardians of Vanaheim in RTTE:

Hiccup: This was a really bad decision, Astrid. Really, really bad.

Astrid: Yeah, you’re probably right.

Hiccup:...Well, you’re not supposed to just agree with me like that. You’re supposed to tell me I did the right thing in a tough situation.

Astrid: I could tell you that but it wouldn’t be the truth. And you know that.

Hiccup: Yeah, I guess I do.

She could have easily lied to him to make him feel better - but they respect each other enough to be honest with one another. Astrid instead reassures him in a much better way:

Astrid: Hiccup, you make a hundred decisions every day, they aren’t all gonna be correct. What’s important is that you keep making decisions, that after you fail, you move forward.

Another example is in HTTYD3, after Grimmel has captured Toothless and taken all the dragons captive. On the cliff, as Hiccup paces and Astrid approaches him, she tells him the truth again:

Hiccup: I shouldn't have dragged you out there. He wouldn't have flown me back. She wouldn't have followed.

Astrid: Yep.

Hiccup: Aah! I feel like the same screw up I was before I met Toothless.

Astrid: I can see that.

Hiccup: Are you just gonna stand there and agree with everything?

Astrid: Well, you're right. You're back to where you started. But I was the first to believe in you. And I have watched you doubt whether you're worthy ever since. But you know what... I am the person I am today because of you. I never told you that, but it's true. You are the bravest, most stubborn, most determined... knucklehead I know. Toothless didn't give you that, Hiccup. He just made it--

Hiccup: Easier.

Astrid: And now it's gonna be a lot harder. So... what are you gonna do about it?

Hiccup: Probably something stupid.

Astrid: That's the Hiccup I know.

Again, she could have easily said “no it’s not your fault, babe” but she knew that that would have gotten them nowhere. She’s not necessarily saying it IS his fault - her “yep” is more in the vein of “I’m gonna let you rant it out and agree with you until you’re ready to listen”. She’s not particularly serious when she says it either - before she can get through to him, it’s that he’s pacing about frustrated, feeling both angry and sorry at/for himself, and she knows that he needs to get it out of his system/snap out of it before she can attempt to get through to him.

Everything about their relationship - from little touches to kisses, to supporting each other etc - has such a natural progression that also reflects how they both develop as individuals. This series has such themes of growing up and maturing, and I love that the film-makers put so much effort into reflecting their growth as individuals and a couple.

And just because I like to keep posts nice and cheerful, I leave you all with this gem:

[cockbiteproductions]

multiples of 8, except in the misc section. all even numbers for the misc section

200: My crush’s name is: well well well this question again. you’re not getting anything out of me!!! they fucking use this website!!!

192: I am allergic to: nothing. but i found out like yesterday not everyone gets dermatographia and im kinda annoyed. what do you mean your skin doesnt get red and puffy the moment you touch it......

184: Xbox or ps3: xbox solely because of ah

176: Last YouTube video watched: my watch history says this, which is a scene from a show called billions. this scene in particular is about my favorite character asking about their introduction scene with their former mentor figure that they quickly outranked and asking why they were picked for the internship that lead them down this [entire shitpath].

168: Luck: [long sigh]. [puts on clown makeup].

[obi wan voice] im my experience there’s no such thing as luck. 

[rian voice] luck? there’s probability plausibility and actuality. luck is superstition. luck is lazy math. [winston voice] that’s what i always say.

160: Soul mates: again souls arent real..... nor do i believe that people are “meant for each other” on any sort of cosmic/larger level. you are more compatible with people based on your upbringing and your interests and your values and those are adaptable over time though some people are so different that they will never get along and other people match/complement each other incredibly well.

152: Phone or Online: lmaoooo this questionnaire once again showing its age. throwback to when these things weren’t synonymous. online for sure. what am i gonna do with a phone? talk to someone with my fucking voice? i think not.

144: Oranges or Apples: to eat by themselves? probably apples since they are easier and less of a mess. and apples are more consistently better than oranges. oranges, it’s easy to get a batch that just sucks. juiced? probably orange. i love me some fuckin orange juice. but i like apple cider more than orange juice.

136: Hillary or Obama: lmaoooo again.. the age of this. 2008 or 2012. going to guess 2008. obama but not like. enthusiastically. while he was certainly better than [what we got going on now] he still bombed the hell outta some countries......

128: Manicure or Pedicure: ive never had either but i would probably be more comfortable with a manicure. people touching my feet would make me ticklish.

120: Gay Marriage: the only type that should be allowed. sorry straights youre no longer allowed to get married. /s obviously.

112: Facebook: oh BOY are you fucking ready. are you???? im starting the readmore NOW because this is going to be something. i doubt anyone except robots maybe will actually read my deranged pro-privacy anti-facebook/social media/surveillance rant but im angry every time i think about it and if i were a more important person than a rando on the internet with a keyboard im sure facebook would hire someone to kill me one day.

FUCK FACEBOOK. FUCK THAT SHITTY ASS WEBSITE THAT AT EVERY TURN HAS BEEN REVEALED TO HAVE HORRIFYING PRACTICES OF DATA COLLECTION.

but before that, they need to pay some goddamn fucking taxes. they are profiting off the data of billions of people and getting away with paying SO LITTLE back. 

you ever hear about deepface? no this is not the beginning of a prequel meme. deepface is facebook’s facial recognition technology and facial recognition is fucking terrifying. that shit is as good as humans at facial recognition at this point. does that not scare you? that a bunch of computers can figure out if this photo contains you or not? it’s one thing if humans recognize each other, but another thing when computers who can process data almost infinitely faster than humans can are able to do it. the scale and speed at which these fucking nightmares operates is hard for us to imagine and so we are all not scared enough of what they can do. this kind of technology is so deeply privacy violating it’s hard for me to stress it enough. every image of you ever uploaded on the internet could possibly be put through facial recognition tech. and with the fact that there are cameras literally everywhere at all times now at this point it’s so fucking possible that if desired, someone could find out where you are at all times. and that gets SO scary when used by governments. are you comfortable with your government knowing where YOU are at all times? yes? what about if tomorrow your government is overthrown by a group of radicals you completely disagree with? you still comfortable with that? facial recognition is kind of a fucking pandoras box that we are opening and now that we have the technology available to us, unless we actively take steps back from it, it WILL eventually/already is being used in malicious, intensely privacy invasive ways.

and everything in that above bullet point goes for ALL DATA COLLECTED ON YOU, EVER. everything you’ve ever said on facebook is probably put through some multi layered neural network fucking robot who is learning how to understand what humans say on your input and also cataloging things about you as a person. it is doing SO MUCH more than reading the exact text of what you are saying and then picking up on keywords. neural networks are an attempt to copy how humans think by making an artificial version of a brain basically. in simple terms it’s a map of points and connections and you feed it data for a while and tell it what the desired outcome should be. it will adjust those connections and the weight of those points based on your data and expected outcome. that change in connections and weights is how it learns. then after a while it has fed on enough data that it will begin to expect what your desired outcome is. now imagine millions and millions of connections and points. it’s fucking huge. you ever hear about how we don’t know how machine learning/deep learning/neural networks works? this is that. it’s because they are so large and they have changed their weights and points so much that we no longer understand how it makes its decisions. ml is on a deeper level starting to understand what you mean when you say words. like a human. and can pick up nuances humans cannot because of its perfect memory. do you understand how scary this is? do you? i really do not know how to express this better how absolutely buckshit wild and terrifying the idea that everything i say online can be scraped and put through a robot and a profile on me and who i am and my ideals can be gathered almost instantly. how hard would it be to write a scraper that goes to my blog and grabs the text of every post in my talk tag? and then there’s free and open source nlp software (or you can pay for it) and you can feed in everything ive said on this blog ever. you can go to my facebook. you can go to my twitter. you can find my profiles on every online platform ive ever used and take everything ive ever said and determine what kind of person i am based on that. and then you can then make further distinctions based on that data. (sidenote: facebook wouldnt have to scrape the data on my profile, it’s all in their databases already. they have everything ive ever posted on public or private, on my old profile i’ve deactivated, every photo ive posted or been tagged in, everything ive ever uploaded to their servers or have been associated with.) and someone or robot can make decisions about me based on that data. it could just be am i likely to buy [this product] or it could be something much more like am i a threat? am i dangerous to you, the person using this data about me? what are my politics? what are my views on [this topic]? are they too extreme? should i be denied [real life thing] based on what this machine has determined about me from my data online? not to sound fucking crazy, but you ever watch that episode of black mirror? nosedive? and its system where you can rate interactions with people? how this one girl was trying to increase her ranking so she would qualify for a cheaper price on housing? how we’re already starting to see things like this in real life with china’s social credit system?

call me a fucking wack job but i think it’s so deeply creepy that we have digitized so many aspects of our lives and leave machines we no longer understand how they make their decisions to analyze every bit of data about ourselves.

by the fucking way facebook tracks data on people WHO DO NOT USE FACEBOOK. FACEBOOK TRACKS DATA ON PEOPLE. WHO. DO. NOT. USE. FACEBOOK. are you scared? i am.

i’ve been thinking about this tweet from @/malwaretech on twitter from a few days ago. text: On a serious note, social media tracking is more extensive than you may think. For example: those Facebook 'like' buttons you see on every website? They call home. If you're logged into your FB account, it records that you visited that web page, even if you don't click 'like'. doesn’t that sound a lil fucked up to anyone else? that facebook knows that i visited that webpage even though i did not tell it? that it will use that data to build a better profile on what my interests are and that it will use that data to better sell ads to me? i’ll be honest i am unsure of if facebook sells that information to other vendors. i think that might be not allowed but i wouldn’t be surprised if that data somehow got into the hands of people who arent facebook.

the fact that for the longest time you could NOT get your data deleted from facebook? that even if you deactivated your account facebook would still keep all of that in their shit ass servers forever? as far as i know, that’s changed now, but i would not at all be surprised if the next day it was revealed that facebook was Actually Keeping all that info anyways

the fact that by default facebook’s privacy settings are set to allow anyone to see most info about you? just this whole opt out culture is so fucking wack. it should be opt in. your privacy settings should default on the MOST PRIVATE and it should be up to you to ACTIVELY SEARCH OUT how to change them to public. it is ON FACEBOOK to actively cultivate privacy but of fucking course they don’t.

lmao cambridge analytica politics russia brexit trump. i don’t have the energy to even open this fucking can of worms but i will say that again, another layer of deeply fucked up that political campaigns can use that data to try to coerce or influence elections.

do you remember when in 2019. yes twenty. fucking. nineteen. 2019. two thousand and nineteen. 2019. i dont know how more to stress how recent but late this is. 2019. facebook admitted that it and instagram were still. STILL. STILL. S T I L L. storing passwords as plaintext? meaning your password that is “password123ilovedogs” is stored AS “password123ilovedogs” in their database. it is STANDARD AND EXPECTED PRACTICE that websites store SECURE hashes of passwords (not like fucking. md5 or something) meaning you do a bunch of fucking “irreversible” math on the password and store that instead of the actual password itself. so the db would be storing “298!79v@w8W#R;3,f9jf” instead of your actual password. anyways face. fucking. book. was storing passwords as plain text. which means if they ever have a data breach on their passwords db then all that data inside will just be your actual goddamn password. your actual goddamn password. what the fuck? what the fuck? and we still use this website? we? me? i use this website daily? i use this website on a daily fucking basis and allow it to continue to collect information on me? im so goddamn angry.

the fact that now in this day and age you are considered weird for not having any social media? super fucked up. the fact that employers will check your social media and if you don’t have one that is somehow a red flag? weird as hell. why must we participate in the world’s largest data collection scandal ever just to be a member of society? i cannot choose to opt out. facebook collects data on me even if i do not have an account. society expects me to have some form of social media and if i do not then that i am the weird one for it. if you choose to live a life of trying not to be tracked it is almost impossible. can you live your life in modern society without an email address? without a smartphone or laptop? there is an expectation that every person is available to communicate with digitally and if you find the practice of data collection abhorrent and don’t want to use websites that do so, then you’re the weird one who has a LOT of society’s services unavailable to you.

im not going to even touch on the psychological effects that facebook and social media have on people other than to ONCE AGAIN, say they are very real and deeply fucked up.

by the way check out haveibeenpwned. enter your email and it’ll check against databases to see if your email has been on recent dumps. i have been. lately there have been a few older accounts of mine that have been breached and it’s terrifying.

fuck jesse eisenberg man he fucked over spiderman crazy

fuck faang. fuck big tech. fuck data collection. btw edward snowden is a hero. fuck all of this.

104: The future: man we’re in for it. i am not optimistic about it at all. too much tech progression / not enough foresight / expansion/globalization of the world / global warming / political and economic issues are all coming to a head to make the world a fucking disaster.

96: Changed a diaper: never done it! i am not around children often.

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: having a vague idea of where things are locally. im very bad with directions.

86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: answered already.

84: People call me: yeesa, apparently. i have a fair amount of nicknames but i just call myself teresa.

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: sure haven’t though i deserve one

80: The first person i talked to today was: soph​ because she wakes up at a normal goddamn time so i’ll sometimes have a text from her from a few hrs ago

76: Right now I am talking to: milo and a discord server im in for a group of friends i made when i was applying to college. though i havent responded in quite a while since i went on my angry facebook rant.

74: I have/will get a job: well i HAD a job for the beginning of the summer when i was a TA but i do not any more as that was first summer semester only. hopefully in the fall i’ll have a job as a TA again but who knows. and then after that when i graduate i hope hope hope hope hope i will have a job lined up.

72: Today: woke up. made a plum smoothie. played minecraft. took a nap. here i am. it’s all very riveting.

70: Next Weekend: it’ll happen for sure. odds are i will be waking up and eating food and coming on the internet and chatting with friends and doing a bit of writing and trying to learn a bit more html.

68: The worst sound in the world: answered already.

66: People that make you happy: will roland lmao. 

64: My friends are: well it’s basically the same people i tagged in my last post on people who make me happy.

62: My School: you tryin to doxx me? it’s alright. not the best for my major. and also stupidly trying to reopen for the fall because theyre greedy and idiots. it was like my 5th choice school but it is what it is.....

60: I lose all respect for people who: already answered

58: Your hair color is: black as fuck. im east asian.

56: Favorite web site: controversial but archive of our own dot org i guess. i believe in their mission and like how they have advocated for fans and have created a fan-owned space on the internet. they’re not perfect but i overall support them.

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: answered already

52: My room is: a time capsule of what i liked in late middle school/early high school.

50: Where would you like to be: im fine where i am. maybe visiting friends though. i would like to Hang With Them and Do Fun Activities.

48: Ever been in love: who’s to say....... what is love? (baby don’t hurt me). but for real the concept of love is weird to me, especially romantic love. i don’t know. i’ve certainly obsessed over people. i’ve noticed i kind of “pick people” to have crushes on. i can’t really say why. but then it creates a feedback loop of i pay more attention to them -> i think more about them -> i like them more. so i’ve made conscious decisions that have lead to me obsessing over people.

46: More guy friends or girl friends: girl but that’s just because people in fandom spaces tend to be women and most of my friends ive made through fandom.

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: kaity is coming to my town but we cant see each other because of a pandemic so im kinda fucking miffed about that. i didn’t get to see maria before she left my state so i’m also miffed about that.

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: lmaooooo no. i would just like to be satisfied with my life. would like to see friends. do fun things with them. 

40: Last person I got mad at: idk im not generally a mad person. mark zuckerberg probably.

38: I wish I was a professional: as in i suddenly have all the skills and talent needed to be a professional? i think a director &|| writer tbh. i would love to have the Creative Vision necessary to come up with dope ideas AND translate what i have in mind into real life. i would love the ability to be able to tell compelling stories that mean a lot to people.

32: Athlete: lmao if it was 2008 or 2012 i would ahve said ryan lochte but nevermind. idk. maybe katie ledecky.

24: Movie: am not much one for movies...... star trek 2009.

16: Book: i don’t know how to read.

8: Yankee candle scent: idk about yankee candle specifically but i love the smell of apple. 

[master-sass-blast]

Hunter and Hunted.

LOOK, THIS FIC IS 100% SELF INDULGENT. THIS FIC IS FOR  M E. DON’T @ ME.

Summary: You wake up in the middle of nowhere with Frank Castle sitting next to you. Turns out, the two of you have been abducted --with others--and dumped into a forest to be prey in a sick game of prey and predator. Will you --and Frank--make it out alive?

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Frank Castle x Karen Page.

Rating: T for violence, gore, blood, medication withdrawal, death, panic attacks, violence with guns (it’s the punisher), and general intensity. Like, I don’t think it’s the worst thing ever, but it’s all in here.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

You wake up to someone’s hand pressing against your neck.

Your first instinct is to lash out at the mystery hand and its owner –so that’s what you do. You let out a choked scream, grab the wrist of the hand pressed against your neck, and fling a fist in the direction of whomstever the hand belongs to.

The person –a man, but not Piotr or Wade or Nate or Hank or anyone you would remotely expect to be touching your neck—blocks your swing and lets out a grunt. “Hey –hey, calm down—”

You aim a kick at the man’s gut –the light is making it impossible to see, meaning that calming down is on your lowest priority list right now—and make contact, successfully shoving him off you. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, you fucking pervert, fucking touching my damn neck like some sort of candy van driving creep, I will slamdunk the buttfucking brains out of you…” You stop when you finally see the “neck toucher,” then blink and squint because you’ve got to be imagining things. “What the fuck?”

Frank Castle grimaces at you. “My thoughts exactly.”

You go from crouching to sitting flat on your ass as your brain tries to process what all’s going on –and that’s when you notice another important detail.

You’re in the middle of a forest.

You’re surrounded by trees, dense foliage, dirt, rocks, and fallen debris for as far as the eye can see. There’s no sign of civilization, anyone else, or how you even got out here.

Which, naturally, begs the question: how the fuck did you get out here with Frank Castle and no recollection of how you got here?

“We’ve got a bad fucking track record with running into each other, man,” you grumble as you push yourself into a standing position. “I take it you weren’t casually hiking along and just happened to bump into me?”

“I wish,” Frank mutters as he brushes his hands off on his pants. “I woke up a few meters up the hill.” He jerks his head to the left. “Thought I saw someone through the brush, decided to check it out, found you.”

“And you decided the best way to wake me up was to cup my neck because…”

Frank snorts. “Wasn’t trying to be weird. You’ve got one of the collars on.”

“What?” Your hands fly up to your neck, and you let out a streak of swear words when you feel the repression collar in place. “Mother of fuck –okay, how in the flying fuck did I even get out here with this thing on?”

“Probably a hunting ring,” Frank says, tone darkening. “Was looking into one of their operations last I can remember. They like to pick people up, ship them out to the woods, hunt them for sport. Guess they were looking for a challenge this time.”

Yeah, or a death sentence, you think, considering they decided to pick up the fucking Punisher, of all people. Your hand floats back up to your neck, groping at the collar as you try to get a sense for what model it is. “Tell me what this looks like. Keypad, fingerprint scanner, power cell size, whatever. I’m a dead duck until I get this thing off me, so the more I know, the better.”

“Got a keypad on the back with the numbers zero through nine, a delete key, and an ‘enter’ key,” Frank says, stepping behind you to get a better look at the collar.

“Any seams on the side or areas that would let us access the internal mechanisms?”

“…Yeah. There’s a seam running all around the node the keypad’s mounted on, and there’s a little rectangular hole that you could jam a screwdriver head or a knife blade in to pop the sucker open.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath and do your best to calm yourself. “That’s… something.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Frank reassures you, slowly pacing around as he assesses his surroundings. “We’ll figure something out.”

“…Frank… if I can get the collar off, I seriously doubt we’re going to get out of this place in enough time for me to get my next does of meds, which means…”

Which means the likelihood of an episode happening –even if regular medication and psychic therapy have helped—and you’re not about to risk someone that literally has no ways of protecting themselves.

But Frank –true to form, if Wade and Karen are to be believed—merely shakes his head once your voice trails off. “Not leaving you out here alone. You’re a sitting duck with that collar on. Plus, safety in numbers. We’re sticking together.”

You open your mouth to argue –but are promptly cut off by the sound of gunshots and someone screaming nearby.

Frank tenses, then takes off towards the sounds of the gunfire.

You swear under your breath, then follow after him; it’s not like you have any better options.

***

 The screaming leads you to a group of people dressed in full hunting gear –backpacks, hiking boots, camo, the whole nine yards—with guns trained on a person booking it through the trees, screaming –understandably—like a banshee.

Your gut clenches when one of the hunters hits the running person straight in the back. Shit.

Frank bursts into action. With experienced ease, he darts behind a stand of trees, stalking the group of hunters as they go to check their “kill,” until the right opportunity opens up—

And then it’s over in a flash. He snaps the neck of the closest hunter, takes their gun, and the rest fall within seconds.

You grimace as you edge closer to the pile of fresh bodies. “Are there going to be more of them?”

“Definitely,” Frank says as he starts checking over the hunters’ gear. “These events are pretty big. Lots of people put cash down to participate. My bet is that this is just group one –or, if it’s a big enough plot of land, everyone else is spread out.”

“What about them?” you ask, nodding over to the fallen “hunt-ee.”

Frank shakes his head. “He’s toast. That shot would’ve gone straight through his heart.”

You creep a little closer to victim, trying to get a grasp on the situation without getting a full gore display. “She. Not he.”

“She,” Frank corrects, shrugging. “Doesn’t make a difference.”

“Does in this case.” You roll the body over with your foot, revealing a shock of dyed red hair, fingers with webbing between them, and gill slits on the neck that are partially covered by a repression collar. “She’s a mutant.”

Frank looks up at you before joining you near the woman’s body. “Anyone you recognize?”

“Captain Tribecca Jones, also known as Marlene, no last name given.” You close Marlene’s eyes –set in a vacant, lifeless gaze—and sigh heavily. “Mutant grifter, gotten in some trouble with the law. Notable for tracking ships carrying trafficked mutants and humans on them and setting them free –and for breaking out of the Icebox five different times.”

“Damn.” Frank lets out a low whistle. “They were clearly going for a challenge round if they picked her up.”

“Not much of a challenge with the collar.”

“Trophy, then. Bragging rights.”

Your stomach churns, and you look away from Marlene’s lifeless body. “We’re not fucking trophies.”

***

 Much to your dismay –and Frank’s derision—none of the hunters were carrying anything that could be used to get the collar off you.

“Who the fuck doesn’t carry a blade on them?” he grumbles as he pairs down the most useful gear into one backpack. “You’re going ‘hunting’ in the middle of the damn woods; take a fucking pocket knife at least.”

“I mean, they might not need one,” you point out as you scan the area around you nervously. “They’re going out together in teams, they’ve probably got maps and tracking equipment, and I doubt they’re actually sleeping out in the woods. Does something seem off to you?”

“We’re prey in a sick hunting game in the middle of who knows the fuck where,” Frank points out as he hands you a metal water bottle. “This whole thing is off.”

“Yeah, no, I mean… about where we are. Something’s not right.” Your gaze darts around wildly as your brain works overtime. “None of this feels right.”

“Hey.” Frank gently clasps your shoulder. “Deep breath. Panicking won’t help.”

“I’m not—” You purse your lips together when Frank gives you a look, then take a deep breath and let it out. “This not feeling right isn’t me panicking. Something is off about where we are –not how we got here, but the woods themselves. Something’s wrong with these woods.”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“You seem pretty dead set on this ‘we’ thing,” you mutter.

“Should I not be?”

“I mean… if I have an episode…”

“You’re wearing the collar,” Frank points out. “Which means you don’t pose a risk to me.”

“Well, if we can’t get it off, I’m fucking useless!”

“All the more reason for me to stick close to you,” Frank says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not just gonna leave you in this, okay?”

You sigh, then nod. “Alright. Where do we go now?”

Another scream rips through the air –further away this time—followed by more gunshots.

Frank takes off in the direction of the shots. “We go this way.”

 ***

 Your second run in with the hunters doesn’t go nearly as well as the first.

First, the second victim alerts the hunters to yours and Frank’s presence, which means there’s no sneaking up on them and taking them out before they realize what’s going on.

Second, the hunters notice you as well as Frank –and manage to get between the two of you so you have to fend them off as well.

You grit your teeth as you dive behind a massive mound of dirt. Gunfire cracks through the air as shotgun rounds slam into the small hill, and you cover your head with your hands. You can hear Frank shouting and other people letting out various shrieks and grunts of pain, so you can only assume –hope—that he’s holding his own.

This is out of your realm. You’re not a slouch when it comes to fighting, but being gunned down in the middle of nowhere with a repression collar around your neck is well above your pay grade.

You scramble to the side just before one of the hunters clambers over the hill, then kick them in the knee before they can set their sights on you. You make a mad dash for their shotgun, rip it away from them, then skitter back and turn the gun on them.

And then you freeze. You can’t make your finger squeeze the trigger. For all that you’ve shot targets –and been shot at—you can’t bring yourself to fire a gun at another human being.

The hunter lunges at you—

Another gunshot cracks through the air, and the hunter’s head explodes like a watermelon loaded with C4.

You scream, then look up at the bank of dirt.

Frank lowers a rifle –which he presumably took off one of the hunters. His face is spattered with blood, and he looks far too calm for a man who just killed several people. “You froze.”

“I…” You activate the safety on the shotgun and stare at the bloodstained ground. “Yeah.”

“You can’t do that here. If you have a shot, you have to take it.”

“I… I can’t,” you say, ducking your head to hide the tears that have suddenly welled up in your eyes.

“Not an option right now. It’s them or us.” Frank squeezes your shoulder gently, then wraps one of his arms around you and leads you away from the headless corpse. “Come on. I think one of these bastards was carrying a blade.”

 ***

 “This still seems really weird,” you comment as Frank searches the dead hunters for a knife. “Doesn’t it seem weird to you?”

“Outside of being abducted and used as prey in some psychopath’s hunting game? Not particularly.” He lets out a pleased grunt when he finds a pocket knife on one of the hunter’s belt, then removes a pistol from their holster as well. “You comfortable with a .380?”

You swallow hard and start shaking your head. “No, I –I can’t, Frank, I can’t—”

“Look, I know the X-Men have their thing about ‘no killing,’ but this is—”

“No, no, I can’t kill anyone else. I tried to run away from home as a kid, and they hunted me down, and I had to… I can’t, I can’t—”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank grumbles, quickly moving to stand when you start crying. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.” He holds up the knife. “We’re getting this collar off you, okay? You keep ‘em off me, and I’ll make sure they stay down, okay?”

You nod, sniffing loudly and swiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Okay. I can do that.”

Frank nods back, then steps behind you. “Alright, you’ll have to walk me through this.”

“Are there any manufacturers labels stamped on the collar? Any model types or labels at all?” you ask.

“Uh… Essex Productions? Type… 187B?”

You run through your mental file on repression collars –and send a thank you to your uncle—then nod. “Okay. Pop the keypad panel open and tell me what it looks like in there.”

It takes a bit of finagling –and a lot of cursing on Frank’s part—but he manages to lever the panel open with the knife blade. “Alright… got a… glowing, yellow battery-looking thing in the middle. There’s wires connecting the keypad to a motherboard thing, and a… blue something underneath the motherboard. Can’t get a good visual on it.”

“The yellow battery is a cell that contains the repression chip,” you say. “The blue thing is the collar’s power cell. We break the circuit, the collar will deactivate automatically.”

“Great. And how do we do that?”

“See if you can lever the motherboard up with the knife,” you suggest. “There should be wires underneath it that connect to the power cell in there.”

“So, you want me to jam this metal blade next to a power source.”

“I mean, you were going to be on death row at one point,” you mumble. “Could just be part of a well-rounded experience.”

“Very fucking funny; New York doesn’t do electrocution anymore. Hold still.”

You inhale deeply and close your eyes—

And then the collar powers down, opens with a clicking noise, and falls off your neck.

You let out a sigh of relief –then whip your head around when the sensation of ‘this isn’t right’ doesn’t go away. “What the fuck? This place still doesn’t feel right! Did they injection me with repression serum on top of it?”

“Can you fly?” Frank asks with a shrug.

You successfully levitate yourself off the ground, which only increases your confusion. “What the actual hell? Okay, I’m going to fly up and see if I can see any major landmarks.”

“Wait –shit, hold the fuck on.” Frank grabs your arm and yanks you away from the pile of bodies. “We need to move to a new location, just in case anyone else heard the sounds of the fight.”

You follow him along a narrow trail, until the two of you are far enough away that Frank’s willing to stop. “Alright, I’m gonna poke my head above the tree cover. Keep your eyes peeled down here.” You hover up, latching onto branches to help direct your ascent, then push some lush, green leaves out of your way so you can stick your head out and look around—

You gawk. “What the fuck!”

Instead of clear blue sky –or clouds, or anything resembling the fucking sky—you’re greeted by a dark, metal ceiling. Massive industrial lights hang down from the ceiling in a grid, illuminating the space and the “forest” beneath.

“We’re in a fucking warehouse!” you hiss down at Frank.

He frowns up at you, disbelieving. “What? How’s that even possible?”

“I will lift you up here myself if you don’t believe me, I swear to Barbara Streisand—”

“No, no, I believe you, just…” He gestures around at the trees. “How is any of this inside a fucking warehouse?”

You gasp as the light bulb goes off in your head. “Frank! Listen!”

He tenses, eyes scanning your surroundings as he does as you say. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! No birds, no animals, no bugs –not even a damn breeze. This is a fake forest!”

Frank’s eyes widen as you land next to him. “Shit, you’re right. The trees and shit are real enough, but there’s nothing else. They must’ve built this place just for ‘hunting.’”

“Well, the upside is if we’re in a building, there have to be walls and doors. Some sort of way out, at least,” you reason. “If we can find one of the walls, we can run the perimeter until we find an exit.”

“Hang on.” Frank heaves the backpack off his shoulders. “One of the asshats… yeah, they had a map.” He unfolds it, then holds it out so you can both read off it. “This boundary—” he gestures to a dotted line “—must be the limits of the warehouse.”

“I’m willing to be these spots—” you tap the map where parts of the dotted line are highlighted with red “—are exits and entries.”

“Why would they keep doors if they’re bringing people in here?”

“They might be hidden. Or locked.”

“Then how are going to use them?”

“I can rip them open with my powers.” You kick up a little breeze to illustrate your point. “Or, push comes to shove, we wait for someone to come out and jump them.”

“Good enough plan. Could you see where the walls are when you flew up?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s too big a space.”

Frank grumbles under his breath and peers down at the map. “Okay, we’re on an incline right now, which means we’re somewhere around here.” He taps the bottom of the map. “There’s a stream down here—” he taps the center of the page “—that crosses the whole warehouse. We walk until we find it, then go left until we hit the wall. Closest door will be on the right.”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh. “Guess we better get walking.”

***

 The two of you hike through the woods for what feels like half an hour before you blurt out, “Do you think they put trackers on us?”

Frank immediately bursts into a massive, angry barrage of swear words and all but rips the backpack off his backpack. “Should’ve fucking done that right away, goddamn idiot— help me check this shit.”

The two of you check over all the gear Frank’s poached off the dead hunters –guns, the knife, the maps, a pair of night vision goggles, flashlights, boxes of ammo, water bottles, rations—and the pack itself before checking your own clothes over.

Considering you’re wearing your own clothes –and aren’t feeling any pain or finding any bruises that would suggest an implanted chip—you start to think that there might not be anything—

Until you find a GPS tracking device tucked underneath the sole of your shoe.

“Check your shoes,” you tell Frank, holding up the tiny electronic device between your fingers. “I’ll bet there’s at least one in them.”

Frank growls under his breath when he pulls out an identical device. “Son of a bitch. Any chance you can stick this on top of a tree?”

“Hell yeah,” you say with a grin. You find the tallest tree in the vicinity, then float up and wedge the tracking devices in a crack in the trunk.

And, just when you think the two of you might finally have a handle on the situation, the lights shut off as soon as you feet hit the ground.

“Is it night-time?” you whisper. You can’t see anything –not even Frank—and the sudden darkness makes you feel like you can be heard from a mile away.

“Is for us,” Frank says back, voice similarly hushed. There’s a few shuffling noises, and then a flashlight clicks on, illuminating Frank’s face and the map he stole. He crouches close to the ground, hunching over the light to hide as much of it as possible. “Get down. It’ll make you harder to see on night vision equipment.”

You kneel down next to him, squinting down at the map. “What’re you looking for?”

“Topographical depressions. We’re liable to get hurt if we try to walk around in the dark, and if we use the flashlights we’ll lead them right to us. We need to find a place to hunker down that’s as sheltered as possible.” He mutters under his breath as he studies the map. “There’s a spot… but opposite of the direction we’ve been going. Gonna be pretty hard to go uphill in the dark, but if we use the flashlight—”

“Use the goggles and talk me through it,” you insist. “I can use my powers to block the sound of us talking from travelling past us.”

“You might fall,” Frank warns you.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Alright,” he agrees after a moment, rifling through the backpack so he can set up the night vision goggles. “Goggles it is.”

 ***

 It takes no small amount of doing to navigate your way over to the ravine Frank found on the map. Even if there aren’t any animals in the “forest” –which you think might be better called an “arena”—there’s still plenty of plants, fallen branches, partially decomposed logs, and rocks to make your way around.

You keep an iron grip on Frank’s hand as he leads you through the woods, moving as cautiously and quietly as you can.

Eventually, the two of you reach the gulch –and without too many scrapes or bruises, either. Frank briefly flicks on the flashlight so the two of you can find a safe place to hunker down for the night; the two of you are out within seconds of settling down on the ground.

You come to with a jerk when the overhead lights flick back on, blasting the entire space with harsh, white light. You grimace as waves of pins and needles shoot throughout your body and curl up on your side. Fucking withdrawals.

Frank groans next to you and pushes himself into a sitting position. “Gotta get moving again.”

“I know.” You push yourself up slowly, trying to take deep breaths against the pain and general feelings of suckitude coursing through your body. “You sleep alright?”

Frank chuckles as he rummages through the backpack. “Not the worst I’ve had.” He hands you a granola bar and a bottle of water. “Fuel up. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

The last thing you want to do right now is eat. Just the sight of the granola bar and the water makes your stomach churn angrily.

But Frank’s right –doubly so since you’re a mutant and have that accelerated metabolism thing that Hank keeps talking about.

Frank frowns when you hesitate before taking the granola bar and water. “You sick? You ain’t looking so good.”

“Just withdrawals,” you say with a shake of your head. “They make me feel like shit.”

Frank hisses through his teeth, then scans the map before looking around at the gulch and the surrounding area. “I’d say we could just stay put, but—”

“We can’t,” you finish as you nibble at your granola bar. “I know. We’ll stick to the plan of moving towards the stream. I just… I might need to stop and breathe on occasions.”

Frank nods once, twice. “That works. You just say when.”

 ***

 It’s slower going, what with you being so out of it, but the two of you manage to cover a decent amount of ground in what Frank reasons is only a couple hours. He keeps the map in his hand, checking your surroundings ever few minutes so he can keep tabs on roughly where the two of you are and how close you are to the stream.

All in all, it’s going pretty good.

And then you get hit with a panic attack.

It slams into you out of nowhere; granted, in hindsight, you’ll be able to track the mounting tension in your torso and shoulders, the increase in your heart rate, and the growing shallowness of your breaths.

But, unfortunately, all you have is the present moment –and, in the present moment, you go from striding next to Frank to having overwhelming waves of anxiety crash over you and feeling like you can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Frank quickly moves you over and sets you down in front of an outcropping of large boulders –cover in case a group of hunters is in the area. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

“Panic attack,” you eke out, trembling from head to toe as you gasp for air. You close your eyes, trying to calm your breathing. “Just gotta ride it out.”

“Ah, shit.” There’s a gentle thump, then more rustling. “Hey.”

You open your eyes and see Frank sitting next to you, pack on the ground and one hand outstretched to you, palm up.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Frank says, giving you a meaningful look.

You manage a ghost of a smile and take his hand, squeezing it tight as you try to wide out the waves of fear.

It’s hard, as it’s always been –more so since you’re going through medication withdrawals. You know it’ll pass, that it always passes, but the whole thing has shades of being kidnapped and trapped underneath your parents’ house, which only serves to make it more terrifying—

Except Frank’s here. His hand is solid and warm around yours, and even though the two of you aren’t anywhere near “close,” you trust him. You trust him to work with you through this, to have your back –and, apparently, to hold your hand while your work through a panic attack.

Something in the back of your mind says the Punisher’s probably had his fair share of panic attacks, too.

“Heard you and Rasputin got hitched,” Frank says after a bit, voice gravelly.

You let out a wet laugh and look down at your engagement ring and wedding band –which, miraculously, the abductors didn’t take off you when they scooped you up and dropped you in here. “Yeah, we did. Couple months ago.”

Frank nods slowly, gaze occasionally darting towards you but largely fixed on scanning your surroundings. “Figured that’d be the case. He’s the type. You two are good together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling as you think of your husband. You sniff wetly, then wipe tears from your face. “He is. And we are.” You draw in and let out a jerky, shaky breath, then look over at Frank. “What about you and Karen?”

Frank’s face scrunches up amusingly as he mentally scrambles for some sort way to shut the line of conversation down. “Karen and I—”

“Are a thing,” you interject.

“We ain’t ‘a thing,’” Frank says firmly –sadly. “We just… it’s not gonna happen. It can’t happen.”

“Seems like it’s already happening.”

“We—”

“You took me to her apartment, you knew where stuff was there, she had one of your hoodies there, she showed up to support you when Wade dragged you over to Xavier’s for the target practice outing, you stashed her at Xavier’s when you helped rescue me, not to mention that a majority of people in New York know and believe that you jumped in front of two bullets for her,” you list off. “Face it, the two of you are a thing.”

Frank sighs heavily –like a man dead set on torturing himself—and shakes his head. “We ain’t. Can’t be. I’m… I’m not good for anyone. Not like this.”

You take one look at Frank’s defeated expression and slumped posture, and your current lack of filter does the rest. “Take it from someone who got told their whole life that they weren’t ‘good for anyone,’ Castle—”

Frank looks up at you, surprise evident in his expression.

“The only people who suffer more than you do from believing that about yourself are the people who love and care about you,” you say as firmly as you can. “And, for you, Karen’s definitely one of those people.”

“Karen’s…” Frank swallows hard and stares at the ground. “Karen’s good. She’s… she’s someone I care about. And I can’t lose anyone else I care about.”

“Seems to me you’re already losing her.”

Frank shoots you a sharp look and opens his mouth to retort –then tenses and snaps it shut when the sound of voices echoes from nearby. “Hunters.”

“Sounds like a big group,” you murmur, forcing yourself into a crouch next to him. “Think we can avoid them?”

Frank slings the back pack over his shoulders, cocks one of the –many—guns he’d taken off the wake of corpses, and starts stalking towards the sound of conversation. “Not how this works.”

“Of course it isn’t,” you grumble under your breath before following after him.

 ***

 The third fight is a bloodbath.

You were right about it being a larger group. There’s at least seventeen people, men and women, all in fancy hunting garb and wielding a variety of guns.

A few of them start yelling when they see Frank and you –then scream when the two of you charge them.

You can’t really keep track of the fight in your exhausted, strained state. You merely channel all your energy into keeping the hunters from ganging up on you and Frank, while Frank unleashes his rage in a maelstrom of guttural screams, bone-crushing punches, and sprays of enemy blood.

It’s a mess.

You bat hunter away from Frank with a burst of wind –then let out a scream when another hunter slams into you, forcibly shoving you away from Frank and against a thick tree trunk.

The hunter growls under his breath and unsheathes a massive knife, angling it at your face. “Mutant bitch.”

You grunt as you flinch away from the swing of the blade, heart hammering as he embeds the knife into the trunk of the tree. You use the opportunity to knee him in the gut –then let out a shout of pain when he slams your head against the tree.

“Told me you were X-Men,” the hunter says, pressing his hand against your throat and pushing against your neck while you thrash and struggle. “Told me you’d be a challenge. None of you mutant bastards have even been remotely interesting to kill.”

You let out a raspy gurgle as your pulse pounds in your ears, then focus your powers on expanding the man’s lungs past capacity as quickly as you can.

The hunter jerks, makes a horrific choking noise, then collapses to the ground in a heap as blood trickles out of his mouth.

You stumble forward, almost tripping over the body, gasping and coughing. You brace your hands on your knees, trying to stay steady as your vision clears and your hearing goes back to normal—

And then you hear the sounds of Frank struggling to fend off the last hunter, who’s got him pinned behind a tree and keeps advancing on him whilst firing his rifle.

You grit your teeth, then let out a guttural scream as you aim a blast of wind at the hunter.

The man slams through a nearby tree, shearing the trunk half before bouncing along the ground like a ragdoll.

There’s a beat of silence, then Frank pops out from behind the tree, looking a little startled. “You okay?”

You nod, panting, and wave a hand dismissively. “Yeah. Lets get out of here before anyone else finds us.”

***

 The two of you find the stream right as the lights are switched off for the night.

You sigh heavily and drop down onto the ground. “Well, at least we can focus on finding the wall tomorrow.”

Frank grunts in agreement as he settles next to you, then briefly flicks on one of the flashlights as he rifles through the pack. “Here.” He hands you a ration packet and a bottle of water. “Need to stay fueled up.”

You shiver as another wave of pins and needles sweeps through your body and groan. “No. I don’t think I could even keep it down.”

“You need to eat.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I feel sick.” You shiver again, then curl into a ball as best you can. “And cold.”

Frank goes quiet for a minute, simply observing you, then sits back against the base of a thick tree trunk and motions for you to join him. “C’mere.”

“What?”

“You need to stay warm. Sharing body heat is the best way we have to do that.”

“This sounds like the start of a smut fic,” you mutter dubiously.

“You sound like fucking Wilson,” Frank grumbles under his breath before motioning for you to join him more insistently. “Come on. Not like I’m gonna do anything. I’m just looking to keep you warm, s’all.”

And even though it’s weird –and, in another universe, one hundred percent the start of a smut fic—you trust Frank not to do anything. And, moreover, you want to be warm.

You crawl over to him and sit between his legs, huddling against Frank’s chest. You nestle closer, shivering. “How are you so warm?”

“Testosterone,” Frank grunts, taking your ration pack and mixing some water in it to start the cooking process. “Higher amounts of testosterone means higher body temp.”

You grit your teeth as you shudder. “That sounds like cheating.”

“Probably is,” Frank agrees mildly, mixing your ration pack around with a fork –because the “high end hunters” kept actual silverware on them, for some reason—before handing it over to you. “Alright, try to get most of this down.”

You grimace and shake your head. “No. I just wanna sleep.”

“C’mon,” Frank encourages you, pressing the ration packet into your hands. “Wilson yammers almost nonstop about your guy, including his whole thing about ‘eating balanced meals’ and whatever the fuck. He’d want you to eat.”

You grumble to yourself as you reluctantly scoop some of the contents of the ration packet –which looks like a jambalaya rice mixture—onto your fork. “That’s a cheap move and you know it.”

“If it works, it works,” Frank says with a shrug.

 …

 Progress the next day is painfully slow. Your body hurts from sleeping on the ground and the withdrawals, you’re exhausted, and you feel sicker than a dog. You trudge along, stopping every few meters to catch your breath or double over from pain, nausea, or some inhumane combination of both.

Frank is markedly patient with you. He keeps an eye out for any sign of danger while the two of you trail along the stream, encourages you by picking out little landmarks –usually fallen logs or rocks—and challenging you to make it to them, and handles keeping track of when to eat and drink.

You’re getting the sneaking suspicion that you’re dead weight –though that could just be the increasing paranoia caused by the medication withdrawals.

Frank seems to think so, too, because he’s adamant about sticking with you when you suggest he go ahead and find the wall. “Not gonna happen,” he says, voice firm. “I’m not leaving you out here like this. We’re sticking together, and that’s the end of it.”

You nod, too tired to argue, then offer up a weak smile. “Besides, Wade would kick the shit out of you if you abandoned me.”

Frank huffs and nods while scanning the route ahead. “You’re right about that. Not to mention your dad and your husband.”

“Piotr’s not a violent person.”

“Pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to slam me around if I left you out here while you’re like this,” Frank insists before nodding at a bend in the stream. “Let’s reach that curve, then you can sit and rest for a bit. Sound good?”

You nod wearily and press on. “Good as it’s gonna get right now.”

…

 You crumple to the ground when the overhead lights switch off. “Thank Cthulhu.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Frank snorts as he settles down next to you. He rummages through the pack, then offers you some water and another ration pack. “Here. Eat.”

“No,” you groan, turning away and curling into a ball. “I’m gonna puke up whatever I eat. I’ll just go without tonight.”

“You need to eat.”

“We have limited food supplies,” you fire back, voice heated, “and we are not going to waste them by just having me throw them back up. I’m not eating.”

“Not eating is going to cause more problems than eating,” Frank argues. He switches out the ration pack for a granola bar, then forcibly shoves it in your hands. “Eat. Or, so fucking help me, I’m feeding it to you.”

You sit up with an irritated huff –then let out a cry of dismay when a fallen branch rips your jacket. “Fucking… stupid fucking piece of shit branch –get the fuck off of me!” You whip it away from you—

And it bounces off something a few feet away with a metallic thud.

You and Frank both go stock still.

“Is that—” you whisper, scarcely daring to be hopeful at this point.

“Stay down,” Frank growls under his breath as he scrambles for the night vision goggles. He scans the area, then whispers, “No one’s nearby as far as I can see.”

You suck in a breath and flip on a flashlight—

And, less twenty feet away from you, is a wall.

“We made it,” you breathe, barely able to believe it.

“We still need to find a door,” Frank points out.

“Well, it’s supposed to be to the right, right? I can hop us over the stream, and then we can find the door, break in, and maybe sleep somewhere that isn’t the ground.”

Frank hesitates for a moment, then whips a wild glance over his shoulder when the sound of gunfire and more screaming emanate from the distance. “Fuck it.” He slings the pack over his shoulder and shoves himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”

 ***

 Finding the door is markedly easier than finding the stream or the wall. You get you and Frank over the stream, then the two of you follow the wall until you reach a metal door with an electronic scanner that strongly resembles the keycard mechanisms on hotel doors next to it.

“Maybe there’s a keycard in the pack,” you suggest, voice hushed. “Or something similar that’ll let us in.”

A quick search of the pack does indeed yield a keycard that looks like it’ll fit the scanner –and, from there, you and Frank make a plan for entry.

“You swipe the card, and if the door opens, you stay behind me while I clear everything,” Frank says, tone brokering no room for argumentation.

You nod, then tuck yourself against the wall before swiping the card in the key slot.

The door swishes open, revealing an empty hallway.

Frank does a quick scan, gun aimed and ready, then nods for you to follow him.

***

 It doesn’t take long to clear the base connected to the hunting grounds. There’s only a handful of people in there –a couple of guards, another hunting party hanging out in a luxury lounge area while they chat and compare trophies taken off the victims, and a couple of men watching cameras that overlook the outside of the complex –which, by in large, looks like a barren field—and a GPS scanner that covers the hunting arena.

Frank slaughters everyone there without hesitation or mercy, then piles the bodies in one of the opulent suites built into the complex. His lip curls into a sneer as he eyes the place, clearly designed for luxurious, top end comfort and relaxation. “This place is fucking disgusting.”

“If it’s any comfort, I’m pretty sure Wade will help you burn it once everyone comes and picks us up,” you mutter, shivering slightly. “Can I sit down now?”

***

 Frank manages to get word out to one of his friends –a “tech spook,” as Frank describes him—who then gets word to the X-Men, who then relays a message that the X-Men are on their way to rescue you and Frank. The only thing the two of you have to do in the meantime is sit tight.

Things are markedly quieter, now. There’s a few more rounds of gunfire as Frank finishes off the last of the hunters attempting to reenter the complex attached to the forested arena, but other than that things are deathly silent.

You feel markedly better once you take a long, hot shower and change into some clean clothes, poached out of one of the dead hunter’s closet. That, plus some decent food that you found in the lounge kitchen, has you feeling miles better than you have over the past few days.

You look up from where you’ve been watching the camera bank, perched on one of the chairs, when Frank walks in from his shower. “Everything’s been quiet.”

He nods, scanning the cameras before plopping down in the seat next to you. Should probably hole up in here. Door’s reinforced, and it’s not likely anyone would think to look in here.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone left,” you say. “There aren’t any other GPS trackers in the arena, and you already cleared the complex.”

Frank simply shoots you a look before going back to watching the screens. “Your people should be here in a little over ten hours. They’ll get us back to New York.”

“I take it we’re not in America anymore?”

Frank shakes his head. “Siberia, according to Lieberman. One of the few places you could hide something like this. Right in your guy’s territory, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I mean, Piotr’s dad has a farm in Siberia, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve tipped us off if this was anywhere near him.” You smile as you think of your husband, then look over at Frank once more. “You looking forward to getting out here?”

“Pretty much anywhere’s better than this shithole.”

“I meant more as it relates to seeing Karen—”

“For the love of Christ, will you fucking drop it?” Frank groans, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “There’s nothing to relate it to! Karen and I are not a thing.”

“Bullshit!” you fire back, swiveling your chair so you’re facing him. You cross your arms over your chest. “Even if you two aren’t an official ‘thing,’ you love her, and you know she loves you.”

“We—”

“Look me in the eye, Frank,” you challenge, staring him down. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love Karen.”

Frank stares at you for a moment, licking at his lower lip nervously, then sighs heavily and hangs his head. “I love her. I’ll always love her. But we can’t –we cannot—be a thing.”

“Why not? And don’t tell me it’s about keeping her safe,” you snap, pointing at him. “We both know –along with everyone else in the state of New York—that Karen Page does just fine all on her own at being a colossal shit magnet. She’s built her whole career off it. So don’t fucking sell me some sort of line about ‘keeping her safe,’ because the actual chances are she’d be a lot safer if you were always close by to watch her back.”

Frank’s jaw works, and his finger taps against his thigh. “Look, Karen… Karen’s good. She… she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves someone who can give her the whole fairytale ending, y’know? Two story house, picket fence, couple of dogs… a comfortable life. I can’t ever give that to her. I’m not going to just take her future away from her. I’d rather get shot in the head again than do that.”

“Let me ask you a very fair question,” you say, cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “Have you actually asked Karen what kind of future she wants?”

Frank’s gaze darts to the floor sheepishly. “Don’t matter. I’m not putting her at risk.”

“The fuck it doesn’t matter, you misogynistic shit goblin!” you shout, lurching up out of your chair. “You can’t just make decisions for Karen without even consulting her about what you want. Look, you either love her and want to be with her for who she is, or you’re in love with this tortured ‘will-it-won’t-it’ scenario and keep stringing her along because you like the attention but don’t want the commitment.”

“You fucking –you fucking think that I would do that to Karen?” Frank roars, shoving his chair back so hard it topples over. “That what you fucking think of me? That I’m some –some fucking player who wants some pretty woman’s attention, so I’ll –I’ll just string her along! Tease her with the idea of some sort of future that’ll never be fulfilled! Is that the kind of person you think I am?”

“I think you’re a guy with his head wedged so far up his own asshole that he’s forgotten that there’s another person in this situation and that you’re hurting her,” you fire back, voice going gravelly. “If you’re so dead set on not putting Karen in danger and not having her be connected to you, then just cut her out and call it good so she can move on with her own life.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Frank’s expression crumples, and he sags against the desk positioned in front of the camera display screens, borderline lifeless. “I have. I thought it… that it was the best option. For –for both of us. And then I come back and I find out that she had to fight an entire war practically on her own and… and I wasn’t there to help. So I decided to stay, decided to stick around and make sure nothing like that happened again, but…”

“You can’t do love by halves,” you surmise.

Frank shakes his head, shoulders sagging. “You can’t. I can’t.”

“So why not just make things official and take things as they come. If you’re protecting her, then she’s still connected to you. May as well get something more out of the arrangement –for both of you.”

Frank growls and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Chrissakes, will you just drop it already?”

“I talk to Wade Wilson for fun and my daily job involves managing and teaching teenagers,” you fire back, placing your hands on your hips. “I can argue circles around you, Castle, even on my off days.”

Frank shoots you an irritated glare. “So –what—I just… I just act like a selfish asshole and—and sweep her off her feet and stay in her life properly?”

“If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Enough with the self-flagellation, Castle, sheesh. We’ve all got our selfish points.”

“Not like this,” Frank insists. “Not like me.”

“Bullshit,” you fire back. “Plenty of us have dark shit in our past and present. That doesn’t stop us from living the lives we want as best we can.”

“You’re not a killer—”

You frown severely. “The fuck I’m not!”

Frank alters course without missing a beat. “What happened to you as a kid isn’t even remotely the same thing—”

“I’ve killed people since then,” you interject hotly, which shuts Frank up. “I went to a murder shack out in Harmony –anti-mutant community, I’ll explain more later—and killed twenty people to steal some repression serum. I don’t care what kind of arguments you make about the trauma that lead me to do that, about the quality of people they were, or whatever the fuck else! Point still stands: I chose to kill people. I still choose to associate with people who kill people. And, for whatever reason, the universe hasn’t chosen to smite me for it. So, I’m going to live the life I want for as long as I can, and anyone who doesn’t like it can go suck my dick.”

The corner of Frank’s mouth quirks up. “Most people don’t go around admitting stuff like that to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m bursting any bubbles of masculinity here, but I could beat you in a fight, easy.”

“Is that so?” Frank asks, brows raising towards his hairline as he chuckles.

“I could make your lungs explode or throw you against a wall so hard you turn into human Jello. Unless you got the jump on me with a gun, it wouldn’t even be a contest.”

Frank shrugs while chuckling. “Yeah, probably. You’re a tough bird, that’s for sure.” He sobers quickly, finger tapping against his thigh in a steady, quick rhythm. “Look, I –I hear what you’re saying. ‘Bout me and Karen. I really do. I just… I can’t lose anyone close to me again. I can’t.”

“I get that.”

Frank pins you with a sharp, intense look. “Do you?”

“Frank, I’m a mutant,” you say tiredly. “I have to register as a mutant by law, and I –and my loved ones—could be rounded up and detained any day. I work with the X-Men, which includes the risk of any of us not coming back from a mission. I may not understand what you went through specifically with your family, but not wanting to lose someone close to you when there’s a daily risk? Yeah, I get that.” You shrug. “Personally, I think it’s better to life happily, even if for a short amount of time, than be miserable forever.”

Frank swallows hard, then starts poking around with the equipment hooked up to the screens and cameras. “Go get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

It’s an obvious deflection tactic, but you’re too tired to argue right now. You yawn, then head out the door. “Scream if you need me.”

Frank snorts. “Will do, Rasputin.”

You smile at the inclusion of your new last name, then pad off in search of a comfortable place to sleep.

***

 By the time the sun properly rises for the day, one of the X-Jets finally touches down next to the complex entryway.

Most people wouldn’t think that someone as big as your husband would be particularly quick or nimble –especially when armored up—but he manages just that as he rushes down the loading ramp and over to you. He lifts you up into his arms –ever mindful of his added strength and, ah, firmness of his armor—then carefully sets you down and looks you over for any signs of damage or illness.

“I’m okay.” You shudder when another wave of pins and needles sweeps through you, then offer your husband a reassuring smile. “I just need my meds and some sleep.”

Piotr nods, then delicately kisses the top of your head. “Let’s go home, myshka.”

You make to follow him to the jet, but stop when you hear a relieved cry of Frank’s name—

And then Karen Page sprints off the X-Jet and into Frank Castle’s arms.

Frank looks shocked to see her but catches her anyway. His eyes dart around wildly for a moment as he holds her close, but then he relaxes into the embrace and lets his eyes shut.

“Man,” Wade says, all suited up, from his vantage point on the loading ramp. “They’ve got it so bad for each other, don’t they?”

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yeah, they really do.”

 ***

 If getting back to the United States takes a long time, being cleared by the medical team at Xavier’s takes even longer. You’re poked, prodded, examined, assessed, and checked on until your head spins.

Fortunately, though, you have Piotr to keep you company throughout all of it. He sits by you for the entire time, dutiful in holding your hand and offering murmured encouragements and affections when needed.

Nathan and Neena also pop in and out during the evaluation –Nathan to ask questions about the hunters, their methods, and the complex, and Neena to make sure that she “rubs some luck on your examination.”

All in all, you’re good.

You look up from talking to Piotr when you hear a loud guffaw of laughter –and then Wade skips into your room.

“Did you really tell the Punisher he was being a ‘misogynistic shit goblin?’”

You grin sheepishly when Piotr makes a choking noise. “In my defense, I was off my medication.”

 ***

 “There have to be more places like them. I seriously doubt the people running that kind of operation would only invest in one location.”

“I suspect you are right, myshka. However, now is not time for thinking of such things. Your job is to rest and recover. Nathan and Wade can handle tracking down mis-doers.”

You can’t help but smiling at the slight mangling of “wrong doers,” and nod. “Yeah. I feel bad for whoever’s running the show. Dad’s gonna put them through a world of hurt.”

You and your lovely husband are walking back to your house, stationed at the back of Xavier’s property. You’d insisted on walking by yourself –and while Piotr had agreed to let you, he still keeps a sharp eye on you for any sign of discomfort, dizziness, fatigue, or pain.

You reach out to pat Piotr’s arm reassuringly –then stop when you spy two certain someones across the lawn. “Well. Would you look at that.”

Frank and Karen are also strolling across the lawn, hand in hand. Frank seems to be talking, head bobbing uncertainly as he keeps an eye on his surroundings, while Karen seems more quiet, more focused on him.

And then Frank stops, finally looks at Karen, and says something that results in her kissing him.

“What is that all about?” Piotr asks, gently tugging you along as Frank slowly wraps his arms around Karen.

You grin, then follow your husband. “That, my dear, is the world as it should be.”

[15001700tt]

Descendants of the Moon

Matter of Life and Death

Descendants of the Moon Masterlist

Word Count: 3,381

Tag list: @chastja  @multi-fan-trash @serpentityx @syublush

Dm me if you want to be on the tag list!

Key: Italics- things that happened in the drama but do not old any importance to the story line

Key: Bold- Dialogue said in the Drama

A/N: I forgot to post the teaser for this chapter, my bad. ill post it with tomorrows teaser.

Episode 3:

Mo Yeon and Nurse Choi moved into the bunkers, organizing whatever they were able to bring on the helicopter.

“There’s not much to organize,”  Min Ji huffed softly.

“It’s ok since we’re tired anyways” Mo Yeon responded, folding her towel.

“Knock knock” a male’s voice interrupted their conversation. The girls looked and found a young man standing in front of them in military clothing.

“Have you been well?” he asked them, earning blank looks, Mo Yeon and Min Ji didn't seem to remember meeting him.

“The patient who ran away” he tried jogging their memories by jumping on one foot.

“Ay! Coupon thief!” Mo Yeon’s memory finally snapped and he remembered the young man that got beat up so badly. He was also the reason she met Shi Jin. They conversed when a girl’s voice interrupted.

“Excuse me, it’s time for me to see my friends” Mo Yeon recognized Yoo Ji’s voice as Yoo Ji shoved Ki Bum out of the way.

“Ahhhhh what are you doing here?” Mo Yeon squealed.

“I got transferred to the Taebaek unit last week, I guess they want me to cover what you guys do here.” Yoo Ji explained.

They talked for a bit more while Mo Yeon settled in, they even went to check on Nurse Ha and Doctor Song. they found them arguing over something, the two girls decided to leave them alone.

“Oh! I forgot my phone back in the bunker, you go ahead of me, I'll catch up.” Mo Yeon sighed.

Yoo Ji made her way to the dinner table and observed the scene, the Haesung team unit was still settling down but most of them were sitting around and enjoying the sun and the food, the unit prepared for them. She took notice of Chi Hoon and was about to go over and greet him. He was taking pictures with his camera, her steps halted when she saw one of the men stood in front of him. She got a little closer to hear their conversation.

“I need to inspect your camera,” Woo Geun said with his intimidating face. Yoo Ji rolled her eyes, he was using his face to scare poor Chi Hoon.

“You will delete these pictures immediately,” he told Chi Hoon.

“Why? Did you not like it? I can take another pictu-”

“We’re not allowed to have our pictures taken” Woo Geun responded. Yoo Ji snorted, ‘that’s ridiculous, why wou- oh’ she thought, she thought back to her conversation with Gwang Nam when she assumed he’s Special Forces. She turned her attention to Gwang Nam and Cheol Ho, trying to avoid camera flashes subtly. She guessed that the Captain and Deputy Leader were the head of the team.

While she wasn’t paying attention to Chi Hoon, Mo Yeon approached them snidely commenting on military regulations.

“They can’t tell us anything due to military regulations”

Woo Geun bowed his head to excuse himself from that awkward conversation. Yoo Ji couldn't hear what Mo Yeon said to Chi Hoon since her voice was a murmur at this point. Yoo Ji moved from her spot and decided to take part in the festivities. Some of the medical units recognized her and greeted her.

Gwang Nam was standing behind all of his friends and he was thankful, they would tease him until death if they caught him staring at Yoo Ji. the team and the soldiers knew her as the pretty reporter that can kick their ass. It didn't seem to matter to her what their rank was or how well trained they were, she always managed to turn the odds in her favor. She has been there for only a couple of days but they had seen her take Cheol Ho down when he was teasing her.

-they raise the flag and they go to the Medi-cube-

It was time for Haesung Unit to start their work. They were instructed to get blood tests from the soldiers to check for any irregularities. Yoo Ji stayed at the door and just observed as the doctors got settled down, the soldiers came in and hurried towards the female nurses and doctors. Yoo Ji snorted at their tactics. 

Shi Jin came in, he nodded at her and walked towards Mo Yeon’s station. Yoo Ji watched as they interacted with each other. She knew what happened back home, and it seemed like they still aren't over it.

Gwang Nam moved to her side and watched his friend interact with the girl he likes. 

“Do you think they’ll give their relationship a try again?” he pondered.

“Not after she pokes him like three times,” she responded when Shi Jin yelped. Gwang Nam looked at Mo Yeon with a scared expression. 

“She’s not gonna do that to you” Yoo Ji rolled her eyes. Yoo Ji nodded her head at the old man came through the door.

“You’ve been working hard!” he praised.

“Did you come to receive the packages?” Shi Jin asked, still holding his arm.

“I did and I just came to greet you!” he laughed, and Shi Jin grinned. 

“We should play ball and eat some meat this weekend” Shi Jin offered, his slight smile was gone when they heard a faint crash and a long horn-like car. Yoo Ji immediately moved from her position towards the exit. Trying to see if it was from the main entrance or not, she didn't get very far, Gwang Nam held her back, shaking his head no.

“This is your Captain, report the situation at the front gate” Shi Jin’s voice cut through all the soldier’s two-way radio.

“Everything is in place by the front gate, it seems to be a car accident by the mountainside” the soldier’s voice cut through the silence as some sighed in relief while one man’s eyes widened in panic.

“If it was the mountain road...did my car flip with my kids inside!?” the old man gasped in horror.

The Alpha team quickly assembled their gear and moved towards the Jeep. Yoo Ji swiftly got into the car through the open roof and waited for the guys to get in.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gwang Nam commanded. 

“I am coming with, I am a reporter, I can do that” Yoo Ji pulled out two cards, one of them her ‘badge’ and the other is just a card that says ‘I do what I want’. 

“You can’t, you’re a civilian. It could be dangerous” Shi Jin stated calmly but also allowed no room for discussion. 

“Alright but don’t blame me if one of your vehicles go missing” Yoo Ji shrugged, swinging out of the car and jogging to where they kept their cars.

“Yoo Ji, wait” Dae Young’s voice called out while keeping eye contact with Shi Jin, having a nonverbal argument.

“Fine, she comes but you stay in the car” Shi Jin’s defeated tone called her.

“Sure, we’ll see” she nodded her head but muttered under her breath. Shi Jin turned to Gwang Nam and Woo Geun instructed them to stay on base just in case.

Gwang Nam couldn't argue with his Captain about his choice, but he couldn't help the worried look he sent Yoo Ji. she gave him a small smug smile and they were on their way.

They approached the flipped car, Shi Jin got out first and signaled Dae Young and Cheol Ho to follow him. As soon as they surrounded the car, Yoo Ji got out of the jeep and crept around the van to inspect the damage. She saw Dae Young checking for a pulse on the bleeding guy, and then moving around to the back where the doors are closed with a lock, Shi Jin inspected the bottom of the car that was on the top now. He frowned, something was wrong, how did the car manage to get there from the cliff, it was a little too far from the usual fall. Cheol Ho’s voice broke Shi Jin out of his thoughts.

“Police! hands up!” 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m UN! UN!” the young man’s voice yelped putting his hands up.

Cheol Ho swung his gun to the side and went to check the injured man’s body for weapons. She was still looking at the car and she noticed that there was a key that looked small enough to open the clasp on the van’s back door on the key chain,  she quickly took out the keys.

“I am hurt! I am hurt! Treatment! Treatment!” the man frantically explained, he turned around not noticing Yoo Ji watching him from the other side. His face changed and he looked like he just screwed up. Yoo Ji furrowed her eyebrows. And stood up and tossed them to Dae Young who looked at her with a dismayed look. She mentally snorted, he really thought she would stay in the car.

Since Yoo Ji moved from her spot she didn’t see the man open the glove compartment, he slowly took out a G-47 and sharply turned to point the gun at Shi Jin. 

Shi Jin saw it coming and intercepted it and punched him in the nose. His groan alerted Yoo Ji that he might not be who he is. She went to Shi Jin’s side and glanced at the gun.

“Isn’t he a member of the U.N.? The relief team isn’t allowed to carry guns” 

“Then why would he have a G-47?” she questioned.

“They say they’re U.N. but they have tattoos from foreign legions and their clothes don’t fit properly” Shi Jin inspected. 

“Yet they insist they are UN, who are these people?”

Dae Young finally opened the back door to the van, he found trunks that were filled with packaged clothes and guns, big guns. Yoo Ji was standing behind him, her eyebrows shot up.

“They’re trying to smuggle weapons across the border using the U.N. as a cover?” Yoo Ji furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“You tell me, you’re part of the U.N.” Shi Jin stated back. Yoo Ji shook her head, she didn't hear any chatter about smugglers at the U.N. meetings. She went up to the injured smuggler and took his identification card, and inspected it.

“It looks like the ID is fake, the serial numbers don’t start with 103- its 003” Yoo Ji informed them. In the end, Shi Jin called the local police, but Yoo Ji doubted they would stay at the station for a long time. The police in Urk was always bought with money and don’t really stand for justice. She knows first hand because she was able to get information from one of them before.

As they went back to base, Mo Yeon caught them walking.

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“No it was just a car accident, don’t worry about it” Shi Jin assured her.

Shi Jin needed to go to the main base in town to report the car accident, and Mo Yeon needed Wifi so Dae Young, the best wingman on earth, suggesting that Shi Jin takes Mo Yeon to an internet cafe. 

Dae Young caught Yoo Ji chuckling at his suggestion, Mo Yeon being one to never back down from a challenge, which that’s what it felt like to her. She took him up on the offer and got into the blue car with Shi Jin.

“What if they kill each other in that car?” Yoo Ji was amused. Gwang Nam joined them looking at the retreating car.

“One is great with sharp objects and the other has martial arts.” Dae Young weighed the possibility.

“She doesn't have her scalpel with her, I think they’ll be fine” Dae Young waved off. Gwang Nam chuckled at his comment.

“How do you know if I didn't teach her how to defend herself without weapons” Yoo Ji faked her serious tone. Truthfully she taught Mo Yeon basic self-defense but Shi Jin can totally overpower her in a few seconds, the boys didn't know that. Gwang Nam and Dae Young’s face fell and dread settled in their stomachs, but Yoo Ji’s laughter made them sigh in relief.

Shi Jin drops Mo Yeon at Ye Hwa’s convenience store and goes to do the report, his superior tells him to leave it alone because the police are getting involved in some shady shit and they don’t want to ruin Korean relations with Urk. he went back to pick her up and they went to the secluded beach while he told her the story of how he met Seo Dae Young and Yoon Myung Ju. They came back really late to Chi Hoon carrying a small child to the infirmary. Mo Yeon quickly followed him and Shi Jin on her heels. After they finished diagnosing the child, Shi Jin went to where Dae Young and Gwang Nam and Yoo Ji were playing cards.

“So how was it? Everyone back in one piece?” Dae Young teased when he saw Shi Jin at the door. He had a pensive look on his face as he leaned on the doorway.

“Did you know that the Haesung Chairman tried to get Mo Yeon to sleep with him on their first date?” he asked Yoo Ji who was trying to focus on the game.

“Of course I knew, I am not cut off from the world” she rolled her eyes and put down three hearts.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Shi Jin asked with a pout on his face.

“Why would I? Are you dating Mo Yeon?” she seriously asked him, looking him in the eye.

“No but that guy is an asshole!” he let out a frustrated groan.

“I know, I was tempted to punch him too but I was here and I couldn't do anything” she replied.

“I should’ve circumcised him before I left so he would only have his illegitimate children when he needs an heir” Yoo Ji muttered, making all three men look at her in surprise.

“What? Are you surprised I know that or that I can get violent?” she questioned.

“He has illegitimate children?” Shi Jin’s lips started to widen into a smile, then it was a full-blown laugh.

“How do you know these things?” Gwang Nam queried.

“I have sources.” she cryptically said. When all three of the men’s radios went off. Something was happening. 

“We’re going under FPCON BRAVO” Dae Young informed Yoo Ji.

“Force Protection Condition” Gwang Nam translated to Yoo Ji. They left their game and went to get ready, they were going to get briefed on the situation. All that they knew was that the Medi-Cube was under protection. 

“It turned out that President Mubarat of the Arab league needs medical attention” Shi Jin repeated the information that was given to him by his superior, Dae Young and Shi Jin were briefing their team on who the resident was, and how important his role was.

Yoo Ji was waiting with the medical team, she was observing quietly from the back, it seemed that she didn't pick up on the tension between Shi Jin and Mo Yeon because they seemed to be upset with each other. Shi Jin silently handed Mo Yeon the medical chart of the patient. 

“What is this? Everything is censored, how do they want us to read it and make a proper diagnosis?” Doctor Song protested when he saw the black lines going through the vital information.

“In the VIP Charts there are more lies than truths anyway” Mo Yeon responded 

“Why would any doctor do that?” Chi Hoon was puzzled, probably thinking about how it’s illegal to record false information.

“Just like poor people need Schweitzer, VIPs need special doctors too, their medical history can be used as their weakness” Mo Yeon continued, not noticing Shi Jin’s look, Yoo Ji did, and he looked like he regretted something. Probably something he said to her.

The patient arrived and they started performing emergency medical procedures, the president’s bodyguards tried to make Yoo Ji step out of the room. Yoo Ji already knew that they would try so she showed them her UN badge and that she can be their translator as she was able to speak Arabic fluently. They had no choice but to allow her, as there were a language barrier and so little time.

As they talked about the patient’s treatment, it seemed that it wasn’t going too well, and the guards were expecting Yoo Ji to translate, but she found herself confused as well.

“The symptoms don’t add up, how is that even possible?” she added.

“That’s because there is something that they don’t want us to know about,” Mo Yeon said, turning to look at Shi Jin.

“I need to open him up to see what's causing the bleeding in the abdominal cavity,” Mo Yeon told him before turning to her medical team.

“Prepare the operating room quickly!” her order was cut off when the main security guard spoke up in English.

“I can’t let you do that, you can’t operate on him” he paused,“The President’s doctor will be here in an hour,” he stated.

“The patient won’t last an hour, they need to operate now” Yoo Ji intervened in Arabic knowing that if they didn't save him now it will be blamed on them and if he does die then it’s also on them, and she saw in Mo Yeon’s eyes that she was willing to take the chance. Everyone’s eyes widened when they heard her speak Arabic, they didn't know she spoke Arabic fluently.

“I can’t let you put a knife in the leader of the Arab world.” he insisted.

“What do you mean? If I don’t operate now he won’t last 20 minutes” Mo Yeon responded in English.

“Only Arab doctors perform on the President!” the bodyguard pulled out his gun and pointed it at Mo Yeon, Yoo Ji could see the breath she sucked in. Yoo Ji surveyed the room and tried to find a weapon she could use in case things got ugly. She was still standing beside the bodyguards and with the way things are going that didn't seem safe. She locked eyes with Gwang Nam. The medical team took a visible step back while the Alpha Team all reached for their guns, keeping their hands above the holster when Shi Jin motioned with his hand to wait.

Gwang Nam signaled with his eyes to start making her way to their side behind him. She slowly inched towards them as Shi Jin listened to his superior on the radio and Mo Yeon told the bodyguard that once she removes her hands, he will die.

“I am not trying to change history here.” she tried one last time to convince him. When he didn't budge, Shi Jin listened to his superior as he talked. The alpha team is doing the same. Yoo Ji watched Gwang Nam’s face to try and decipher what he’s saying, she didn't think it was anything good as all of their eyes flickered to Mo Yeon at the same time. 

“Can you save this patient?” Shi Jin asked Mo Yeon, it seemed like he made a decision already and Dae Young was on the same page as him. It really impressed Yoo Ji how they communicated silently and got the message across to all five of them without uttering a word. Gwang Nam gestured for her to hurry up.

“I can save him” Mo Yeon’s soft voice called out and Shi Jin nodded and turned off the radio, and took out his earpiece while Gwang Nam gestured Yee Ji again to come closer. 

“Then save him” he put up his gun quickly. Yoo Ji had swiftly made her way to Gwang Nam’s side and was standing behind him. He was pointing his rifle at one of the bodyguards. Yoo Ji held onto his back feeling his warm body. She slightly blushed at the contact but she knew now isn’t the time and especially when this could be their last day on earth, she shook it out of her head and focused on the bodyguards’ faces from behind team Alpha.

If this was any other circumstances he would have totally had a moment about her touching him, but this was life and death right now, he’ll have to wait.