#Wish we had the funds to save it. Like it's been falling apart for many years

[mrfoox]

Ok I've said it before but if I'd somehow get access to a couple millions I'd use it to fix up my grandma's child home

It was the first place my old grandparents owned their own land after many years going from different yards to work as staff.

The house is in bad shape but there's so much history there I wish I could preserve it

[cringelordlikesplaz]

Strange to be an Eel

Turning into silly putty wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to him, honestly. It’s everything that happened after that which was weird.

"Please! I'm begging you, Jake bailed last minute and we don't have any replacements! This musical is our last chance. If this flops, we'll never be able to keep this place open!" She cried. 'She' being a short woman with desperate tears in her eyes and too many freckles. 

Eel pulled his wrist out of her surprisingly strong grip. He shook his hand off and observed the woman in front of him. She looked stressed, tired, and a general mess. Her name tag read ‘Penny’.

"Well, Penny." He said curtly, "I got things to do. Better things to do than-"

"But you're the perfect fit! You're the right size, you already know all the lines-"

"Seeing a musical five times doesn't mean I've memorized-"

Penny snapped to attention and pointed her finger into the air dramatically. The imaginary audience located in the storeroom fell silent. 

"And if I'm not here to save the day- Then as God as my witness, I'll be here to save the night!"

"-It's 'then as the gods as my witnesses'." Eel pointed out. Penny smiled smugly and Eel shook himself off.

"That doesn't prove anything. And it doesn't change the fact I can't go onstage!" Eel said.

"You'll be wearing makeup and goggles! A hat too! No one will be able to recognize you in costume!" Penny said, suddenly desperate again.

"No! I won't do it!" Eel said in response to her puppy eyes.

"Please! Please, Bruce Wayne's out there and if this goes well the PR will be fantastic!" She said, tears beginning to fall.

Eel looked up at the cracked ceiling and let out a long, long groan.

"I want 100 bucks." Eel said.

"Deal!" Penny said, the tears instantly evaporating. 

Damn actors.

~~~

So, the musical rendition of the hit show 'The Grey Ghost' went pretty damn well, in Eel's opinion. He was skeptical at first, as anyone should be, but he had to admit it, Penny was right. He was an amazing Grey Ghost. 

It helped that Eel had been a fan of the Grey Ghost since he was a boy, and it also maybe helped that he had snuck into the theater to see the practice runs of the play five times. He had thought he was being sneaky, but apparently theater kids could like, smell intruders. Fresh blood, if you would.

He hadn't known what would happen when he was cornered by a very manic little blond lady, but it ended up surprisingly well. He even got paid. 

After he and the other actors had taken their bows or whatever, Eel snuck back to the storeroom. He pried off the grey suit- it was kinda itchy honestly- and began to dig around for his usual clothes. 

He put his suit on. The nice one, that didn't pinch his shoulders and had all his crap in the pockets. He buttoned up the coat and pulled out his glasses. They were black and pretty slick, if he was honest with himself. Which he was. Occasionally.

The temples were wide and helped hide his eyes from the side. They hid his scar even better. They were sunglasses, unfortunately, not the best eyewear to have in Gotham, but he liked them. And that was enough for now. 

They were also expensive as all hell. Some sort of designer brand. He would wear them till they broke for how much they cost him. 

There was a knock on the door.

"I'm decent," Eel said. 

Penny opened the door and held her clipboard to her chest excitedly. Her eyes sparkled. 

"So." She said.

"So?" He asked.

"So! Y'know how Bruce Wayne was in the crowd tonight?" She asked.

"Yup," He said. 

"He liked it! He liked it so much he wants to fund us!" She said, "And he wants to meet you."

Eel blinked. "He what?" 

"He said your performance was incredible! He wants to meet you!"

"No." 

"No?" She asked, her head cocked, "But you've got so much talent! He could get you a job, y'know." 

"No. Just- no." Eel shook his head. He could just hear the sirens now. "I can't, Penny."

She seemed like she wanted to press him- like she did with getting him into the costume. But something on his face made her reconsider, apparently.

"Alright." She said, sighing, "I'll tell him you're not available."

"Thanks, pal." Eel said.

They stood awkwardly.

"I need to go." He said, pointing behind her to the door.

"I- okay." She said. Penny stepped aside and Eel left the storage room, Penny following behind. She led him to the backdoor.

"Um, thank you...?" She said as he stepped out into the alley.

"It's best if you don't know my name." Eel said.

"Will you be back?" 

"Probably not." Eel said, "What with your success here tonight- I think there's going to be too much foot traffic around for a crook like me to be hidden."

She smiled softly, "You weren't very hidden in the first place."

"I'll have you know I've hidden from cops in more obvious spots."

"I think that says more about the GCPD than it does your skill," Penny said.

Eel huffed, mockingly offended.

"Later, miss." He said, turning to leave.

"Goodbye." She said.

Penny waved to his back and waited for him to slink into the shadows before she shut the door.

~~~

"Eel O'brian." A gruff voice called.

Eel grinned and craned his head around to look at a familiar face.

"Matches! Ol' pal, where've you been? It's been ages." Eel said.

Matches Malone slid into the seat next to him at the bar. The bartender wordlessly handed Matches a drink and Matches wordlessly slid a few bills over the counter.

Eel took a sip of his own drink- a cocktail.

"I've heard there's work around." Matches said, taking his match out of his mouth to take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably.

"I mean, yeah-" Eel said, rolling the cherry around his glass for the hell of it, "But there's always work around."

"Hmm." 

"Yeah yeah, I know what ya mean." Eel said, nodding. "You want the work that won't have you dressed up as a daisy and punched by a furry. I gotcha."

"Hmm."

"I miss the good 'ol days, Matches. Before all these folks in spandex came along and started going nuts all over town-" Eel paused, taking a sip of his cocktail, "-But I do got to admit it; the spandex is pretty hot."

"I need cash." Matches said, ever eloquent. 

"Cheers to that!" Eel laughed. He downed the rest of his drink, swallowing the cherry. 

"Where's the work?" Matches finally asked, and Eel's grin faltered. Always work and no play with this guy.

But Matches seemed to like him well enough, so Eel wouldn't hold it against him.

"So, new boss in the West part of town looking to hire some folks. I think they're hiding something pretty big, but we won't know that 'till we get there, won't we, Matches?" Eel said.

"Hmm."

"Yeah, me too buddy."

~~~

Things at the new job were getting crazy. Like, really really crazy. Like the type of crazy he spent a great amount of his time trying in vain to avoid. Super crazy.

Pun intended.

It started off fairly normal. By Gotham standards anyway. Looting places. Stealing. Scarin' the living daylights out of folks. Keeping out of the limelight. 

But the boss turned out to be working for an even bigger boss- who had a penchant for monologuing- and Eel couldn't help the sinking feeling he had in his gut.

And then the boss- the small boss and not the bigger, monologuing boss- somehow kidnapped Batgirl of all people and decided to drown her. And he did it in this big glass chamber with a valve on the side. 

He stood in front of it, glaring at each of his men accusingly.

He had each of them turn the valve, adding a few inches of water to the chamber, and taking few inches of air away from Batgirl. He was trying to root out a snitch. Or, as he put it, a bat.

Matches didn't even hesitate. Eel wished he had that guy's confidence.

But Eel? He wasn't a big fan of murder. It made him feel icky. It kept him awake at night. He already had enough insomnia, thank you very much.

And Batgirl- She was just a kid. A baby-faced teenager. Up close, she was no longer a force of nature fighting alongside a cryptid. She was a teenager up to her nose in water, her clothes torn and bloody.

Eel went last.

He put his hands on the valve and-

He couldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

A lot of things happened after that.

The boss (the small one) told the rest to shoot him down, and Eel had a half a second to view his terrible life before Matches tackled him to the floor.

The glass of the chamber broke and the room was suddenly flooded with a lot of water and one very mad vigilante. Then a window got busted in, even more glass flying, and then two Robins showed up- There was the young Robin who was grumpy and the other older Robin that wasn't Robin anymore but Eel couldn't really be bothered to remember his name at the moment.

There was fighting, gunfire, blood, and then there was glass in his hands-

And then Matches had somehow manifested them both outside and set Eel on his feet.

"You-" Eel spluttered, "You saved me!" 

Matches looked at Eel. Eel looked at Matches. The street was quiet. Inside the building, it was not.

"Thank you." Eel said softly.

"...You cost me my payment." Matches said at last.

Eel's face fell.

"I just- She's just a kid, Matches. I ain't a monster." Eel said.

Matches shook his head and walked away, leaving Eel on the sidewalk with glass in his hands.

Guess he was wrong about Matches.

~~~

That day wasn't too bad, though. In the middle of the night he was woken up to a knock at his window. His fourth story window in his crappy apartment.

He opened his window and suddenly a basket was shoved into his arms. He fumbled with it for a second, his hands still raw. There was a blur of movement and Eel was left standing half-naked holding a- a gift basket?

He sorted through it- it had cash and cookies and bandages. It also had a plain white card. He opened it and raised a brow in surprise.

"Thanks for not drowning me!" 

It was signed with a little bat drawn in the corner. 

The cookies were delicious.

~~~

The safe was built into the wall. The safe itself wasn't too big, and the wall was only made of plaster. It would be a pain to lug the safe back to base though. And it would cost precious seconds to hack away at the wall to get the safe out-

There was really only one option. The bomb he had was small and wouldn't do much in terms of excavation- but it would absolutely open up that pesky Wayne-Tech lock.

"Alright guys, we need to get back-" Eel didn't hear anyone. He turned- "Guys?"

"It's been a while, O'brian." Batman said, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of his crime buddies. Well, not really buddies- you get the point.

"Batman! Hello! I don't think we've met," Eel said, swinging on his heel and turning to face his doom.

"No, we haven't. But when I didn't hear word from the police of any of your activity for a few months- well." Batman took a silent step closer. "One tends to worry."

"Oh? Me? Lil 'ol me? You shouldn't have." Eel batted his eyelashes, though the effect was diminished as he was wearing his shades.

"You plan these heists well." Batman said slowly, "You waited until the Riddler attacked to go for this safe. You got past the cameras without setting off the alarm. You tipped off the police of where you'd be- on the other side of town."

Eel tried to reach for the detonator on the bomb. If he could just- "You flatter me, Batman really, but I-"

"We could use a man like that on our side, O'brian." Batman said. "A smart man like you could do some real good in the world."

Eel laughed. That was the most wrong thing he'd ever heard. He laughed but it wasn't funny.

He pressed the button and the bomb started counting down from 10.

"I don't think so, Bats. I'm not the hero type." Eel said, and then tried to make a run for it. Batman caught him by the collar.

"It's not about types. There's good in you."

"I really wish I could stay and chat, but I gotta split." Eel said, slipping his arms out of his coat and breaking into a mad sprint.

The bomb let out a single shrieking beep before it detonated. 

Eel didn't turn back to see what happened to Batman.

~~~

A deal went wrong. Unsurprising. They broke his leg. Unsurprising. He was alive. Surprising! Unfortunately, he was still very much crippled and bleeding out from somewhere. 

He limped along the sidewalk at night, always a dumb thing to do. His vision was either going or the lighting in this city was getting worse by the moment. Given that he lived in Gotham, it was likely both.

He limped into a grassy part of the city- a park of some sort. He'd get caught soon. Or maybe he'd bleed out and die. He couldn't manifest the energy to care either way.

He flopped down onto the grass, for lack of any other bright ideas. He couldn't see the stars through the cloud cover. Tragic. 

"Hey." A commanding voice called. He looked around until he spotted a scantily-clad woman. She was green and wearing leaves and had bright red hair and was looking at him like he was a pile of dead slugs.

Oh. Oh crap. Oh crap that's Poison Ivy.

Eel tried to shrink into the ground.

"Hiiiii Poison Ivy, how's the weather?" He asked. He tried to smile charmingly but it was most likely very strained and bloody.

"Why are you bleeding on my flowers?" She asked, a single brow raised.

"Haa, would you believe that blood makes a great fertilizer?" Eel said.

"It does." She said.

"Uh," Eel had lost too much blood for him to come up with a witty remark.

"Please don't kill me." He said.

"Greater men than you have begged for mercy. What makes you better?" She asked, head cocked.

"I can, uh," Eel panicked, "I can give you my grandma's recipe for caramel coffee." 

Poison Ivy's other eyebrow raised. 

They looked at each other for a moment.

Then, a shrill voice called from across the park.

"Ivy! Come on!! What are you even doing?!" 

Eel was fairly certain he was hallucinating now. Blood loss and all that. Because Harley Quinn, wearing a football jersey and sweatpants, came running up to stand besides Poison Ivy.

"We're going to miss the game," Harley pouted, then took notice of Eel, "Who's that mess?"

"Someone who can make caramel coffee, apparently." Poison Ivy said, bemused.

"I like caramel." Harley said.

Poison Ivy shrugged, "We can keep him if you want."

"I also like coffee..." Harley tapped her chin in consideration, "Yeah we'll take him. Come on, Ivy!"

~~~

That was how he ended up getting high with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. His leg was propped up on a table, a bong was being passed around, the apparent football game played on the TV in front of them. They were in a greenhouse and the city’s lights shone through the glass almost magically. This was probably not what someone suffering from blood loss should be doing. Eel almost considered making a break for it. 

But Poison Ivy was the Weed Queen of Gotham, and getting this stuff free? Too good to pass up.

Harely had seemingly forgotten about the promised coffee, but since they hadn’t killed him yet and gave him weed, Eel decided he'd write the recipe down for them before he left.

"I don't get why capes dress the way they do," Harely said, "I mean, rogues have the same problem but like, it's more noticeable with the heroes, y'know?"

"Like, the boob windows?" Ivy asked. Harley nodded enthusiastically. 

"Yeah, yeah! The boob windows." Harely said, "Why do all the guys wear kevlar and body armor and the girls got to show off their tits?"

"Maybe the dudes should show off their tits too." Eel said. 

Poison Ivy laughed and Harely nodded even more enthusiastically.

"Yeah! This guy gets it!" 

"See, if I were to go running around in spandex-" Eel gestured to his very much not spandex coated body, "I'd show off my cleavage all the time." 

"Men don't have cleavage," Ivy pointed out.

"Not with that attitude they don't." Harley said, "Say, Eel, if you ever get tits, come over so we can prove Ivy wrong."

Eel cackled, "Sure thing! And if I ever start wearing spandex as a hobby I'll make sure the V-neck plunges all the way down."

"You'd better!" 

Ivy laughed and Eel was handed the bong again.

~~~

Eel wasn't even doing anything. He was in his apartment, minding his own business. Well actually he was trying to sleep but that wasn't going so well.

Then there was a tapping on his window. Feeling a sudden wash of deja-vu, Eel turned around. There was an otherworldly, haunting green glow coming from his window. 

Pausing, and exercising a healthy amount of caution, walked over to the window.

A UFO hovered outside his window. A tiny one.

Eel rubbed his eyes.

The UFO bonked against the glass, seemingly wanting inside.

"uh," Eel said. Against every ounce of common sense, he opened the window. 

The UFO flew inside his room, casting its light oddly through his home. There was a mechanical whir, and suddenly a robotic arm sprung out from the bottom of the ship.

"Uh," Eel said, regretting everything immediately.

The UFO then grabbed Eel by his good ankle, his other leg still in a cast for a few more weeks. He lost balance and hit his head on the floor. The small ship lifted him off the floor by his ankle, and then dragged him out the window. He tried to claw at the windowsill but the ship was too fast.

"UH,"

He dangled dangerously over what was at least a thirty foot drop. The UFO paid no mind to his panicked flailing, and instead began to go higher.

"OH GOD."

~~~

The small UFO took him to a bigger UFO, of course.

A small hole opened in the underside of the ship, and Eel was brought inside. The inside of an alien spaceship looked nearly identical to its outside, apparently. Weird and green.

The smaller ship finally dropped him off in a large circular room. He was set down gently on his back, but he still hissed in surprise. The metal floor was freezing and he was only in his shorts.

"Uh oh uh oh uh oh..." He muttered.

"Hello, human!" A cheery, buzzing voice greeted. 

Eel looked around frantically and finally spotted a small, glowing blue light.

"Uh, hi?" He said to the light. The blue light bobbed up and down- excitedly?

"Human!" It said, "We are the-"

It said something that sounded eldritch to his human ears.

"-and we saw your performance!"

He blinked.

"...my what."

"On February 7th, approximately 11 months ago, you performed in the musical "The Grey Ghost Strikes Back!"." The light said. Several other colorful lights manifested around him.

"...uh huh."

"If you are wondering why you did not see us, the-" [REDACTED] "-in the crowd on the date of your performance, it is because we were not there."

"Ooohh kayyyy...."

"Batman recorded it and sent us a copy!"

Eel blinked. They were speaking alienese, he was certain of it.

"He also sent along with it 307 other forms of human entertainment as a welcome package to Earth!" It said, "And we must say, we really enjoyed your performance."

A red light, hovering just a little lower than the blue one, perked up.

"We especially enjoyed your performance in the third act, and would like to compliment your singing skills." The red light said.

"Thank you?" Eel said.

"If it is not too much trouble, human, we would like what is most commonly known to you as an 'autograph'." The blue light said.

"...alright." 

~~~

The night started off odd, he'd admit it. But it wasn't bad. He signed some stuff. He didn't know what the things he signed were or what exactly he wrote with, but it hardly mattered. They asked him to sing a song from the musical- he did- and they somehow applauded him.

They gave him alien food, and he'd be damned if he didn't accept free food. Even if it was probably radioactive. It tasted like cotton candy. Again, not bad.

They told him a bit about their situation. Their home- somewhere on a different plane of existence- exploded. They were the last of their kind. Batman approached them, because he could do that apparently, and offered them a place on Earth.

"Our culture is based on entertainment. Each piece of what you call 'media' is like a fine work of art to us." They said. 

"Oh, cool. So do you kidnap actors you like in other stuff?" Eel asked, trying to figure out the best way to consume the slime on a stick he'd been given. He decided there was no proper way to do that so he just decided to slurp it off.

"We would like to meet the actors and actresses in other media, but they usually just scream the whole time they are here. We gain the impression that they do not appreciate our hospitality." They said.

Eel shrugged, "I can't imagine why. You guys are great."

"You have taken this whole experience very well, comparatively."

"I mean- I'm a bit desensitized to weirdness." Eel said.

"Is this experience considered 'weird' to other humans?" They asked.

"Nah." Eel said, waving off their concern, and set his slime stick down, "Hey, I'd like to get home now. This has been fun and all, but it's kinda cold in here."

"Of course, human. We wish you fame and fortune for your future."

"Uh, you too?"

They dropped him off on the roof of his apartment building. The sun was beginning to rise. He made his way down the stairs, nearly naked and his leg still in a cast. He slept okay.

~~~

Eel was known for many things. He knew most, if not all, of those things were bad. Hell, all of the things he was known for would be bad to the common man. But to the common crook? Only most of those things would be considered bad.

Some of the things he was known for made him desirable. 

He was a safecracker, he never got caught, he could make a good plan and stick to it. He was good at his job.

But Eel was not... valuable, per-say. He was a tool in most people's eyes. Something to be discarded when the job was done.

Eel knew this. Made his peace with it. He knew when he took this job that the guys he was working with didn't give two shits about him. But he needed their muscle for the security guards, and they needed his skill to crack the safe. They all needed the cash.

They walked into this big facility during a storm. Mr. Freeze was causing havoc in city hall again. The outer parts of the city didn't get the blizzard- they got the freezing rain.

The security guard appeared- he had a gun and he was willing to use it. If the folks he was working with were smart, which they weren't, they would have ran. Don't shoot back, don't have murder put onto your sentence along with theft and arson and everything else. 

But they were stupid, and they shot blindly, and the guard shot Eel in the shoulder. And the bullet tore through his shoulder and into a container of something-

Another shot rang out, the guard fell.

There was a crack and suddenly Eel was soaked in something- it was bright and hot and it burned like the embers of Hell. He screamed, of course.

The people he was working with, his 'pals', stared at him for just a second.

"Eel-!"

"Eel doesn't have the cash, now run!"

Eel got up, and gave chase. His steps faltered and his vision swam.

He made it outside just in time to see them get into the car and book it.

"Adios, Eel!" 

"You putrid punks!" He yelled, his hand clutching his shoulder. Everything burned. Everything throbbed. His pulse beat in his ears, the rain came down like knives, and the bullet hole poured blood like a faucet. But it was oddly thick- was it? The world kept wanting to wobble and spin.

The- the police. They'd be here soon. Maybe. Eventually. He needed to go.

He walked. 

Down the street, down an alley, then another, then another, until the buildings began to spread out and trees and grass began to coat the land.

The rain was softer here. Warmer too. He climbed a shallow hill. Like climbing a mountain. His heart slammed the inside of his skull like a drum. There was a tree on the hill, its branches bare.

He collapsed beneath it.

He didn't have time to see if he could spot any stars before it all went black.

~~~

Eel's life had always, always been strange.

But it apparently that was just the beginning.

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -  Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He  (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of  what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made  it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery. 

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea. 

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin. 

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters. 

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind. 

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile. 

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone. 

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more? 

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets. 

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream. 

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so. 

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first. 

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet. 

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice. 

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies. 

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land. 

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks. 

“Hey,” Nanami says. 

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow. 

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?” 

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you. 

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh. 

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches. 

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket. 

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange. 

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace. 

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?” 

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges. 

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face. 

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean. 

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his. 

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out. 

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.  

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home. 

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work. 

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it. 

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?” 

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror. 

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor. 

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa. 

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt. 

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions. 

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind. 

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be. 

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?” 

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless. 

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen. 

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school. 

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!” 

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways. 

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark. 

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?” 

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip. 

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?” 

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion. 

“It’s good!” 

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like? 

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper. 

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively. 

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return. 

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper. 

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank. 

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: January 28th, 2021 (Part 1)

And we’re back with many more ask answers! Thank you for waiting.

Is lizzie/the main character tripping over a rock a random event in barbecue? or does it require certain choices? i picked the same choices in multiple different playthroughs but ended up with three different outcomes (1. nothing happens 2. liz trips 3. i trip)

Yep! It’s completely random. Just a little moment of life you don’t have control over, haha.

wait just double checking you stated that derek would be another romantic interest you can pursue in step 4 right??? im just asking cuz hes my fav character 

oh wait and btw i was the one that asked the question about derek being in the step 4 just now, and will you have to pay extra for like a dlc or something bc i play the free version rn and i just wanted to check!! 

Yeah, you will eventually be able to romance him, but unfortunately it is a paid DLC. Cove is the only love interest who’s entirely free-to-play. You can  follow our social media for when we giveaways for a chance to win a key for it, though.

i know that y’all said the step 3 dlc and step 4 will be released early 2021, is there any update to that? for example, a rough amount of days/weeks until release? no pressure at all, i’m super excited!! <3 

The Step 3 DLC will be about in maybe two-two and half months or so. Step 4, we’re not entirely sure. Maybe a few months after the Step 3. We don’t want to give set dates until we’re really close to the release since otherwise we wouldn’t be able to 100% guarantee them.

First off love the game. Second I'm a little confused on how the nsfw dlc is gonna work. Because based on some stuff you've said it sounds like a patreon only thing and others make me think it could be an itch/steam thing after the fact? Would you mind clarifying for me 😅. Also if it's a patreon only thing do you need to become one before it's released? 

It’s not going to be on Steam/Itch. The actual game of Our Life is safe for teens with no adult content. Any 18+ stuff we’re releasing is separate bonus content. Right now the only for sure plan is having it available through Patreon. If there’s another hosting site that’s not Steam or Itch that’d be easier for people than Patreon we might consider uploading it there too, but nothing else is set.

If you want the bonus Moment you’d have to join once it’s already out or sometime after the release. Joining now would get you our current rewards, but wouldn’t get you future content that’s coming later.

this is probably an awkward question and i apologize, feel free not to answer, but i just wanted to address the elephant in the room....will step 4 acknowledge covid/2020 world events?? i kind of hope not bc i'd like to just exist in a fictional version of the world where things are happy in this quaint seaside town and the world isn't falling apart, but i'd understand if there are some references to it. just thought i'd ask so i can Prepare if that makes sense

Step 4 isn’t going to include Covid or even reference it. When we set Step 4 in that year we definitely didn’t know there’d be a global pandemic during it. It’s too late to move the timeframe earlier or later, but we’re not going to make Step 4 stressful for anyone because the real world became so much more stressful. The universe of Our Life will just be an even more idealized place than it was before.

hiiiii! i'm really sorry if this is a bother. i was just curious if cove has a canon setting for each step, like is it canon that he stays candid the whole game and is super sporty for instance and the rest are variations? thank you for your time!

None of those settings are canon. They’re all equally valid.

I love the game and Cove so much that I ended up spending most of the holidays playing it. Definitely worth it! Idk if you're taking suggestions/criticisms, but I chose the peach skin tone and seeing it written as "my peach skin" in the game broke immersion for me because I kept thinking it was referring to the fruit instead of my skin color. I think that skin color is most commonly referred to as "fair" but "peachy" or "rosy" would work too if you're looking for a different word 

Thank you for sharing your experience. We’ll change it to “peachy” in the next update!

So I accidentally overwrote a save file with a different one, is there any way I can recover that save? 

Sadly, there isn’t. Not unless you had a backup of the actual save file files in a separate location you can get. I’m really sorry. You can try using the skip feature to quickly speed through the game and get back to where you were though.

Do you try to maintain the color scheme for the clothing throughout the years in Our Life? 

Yes, though in hindsight not as much as I wished I did, haha. It could’ve been a little more cohesive. It was a bit too broad in my opinion.

I noticed that Cliff mentions he wasn’t much older than Cove before finding out he was going to be a father when he finds MC in bed with Cove during Part 3 so doesn’t that Cliff and Kyra were teenage/young parents? 

Yeah, Cliff was nineteen and Kyra was eighteen when Cove was born. They were just a couple of kids.

Does Cove have a favourite holiday? 

It changes depending on the year. Around Step 1 he’s not a huge fan of a lot of holidays because he’s not together with his whole family for them. But once he’s older and Kyra comes around more, he starts appreciating major family holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas more than other holidays because he knows how it feels not to have that. Though summer vacation is of course his most favorite all the time, if that counts as a “holiday”.

I tried to join your patreon but I can’t seem to? The website keeps saying something went wrong and to try again. 

I’m sorry you’re having trouble! I think contacting Patreon support would probably be the best option if the joining process itself is having issues.

How much is it to become a part of your Patreon? I don’t have a lot of money currently but would love to help you out more than just buying the games and dlcs. 

Aw, I appreciate you wanting to support but the Patreon is really optional. You don’t need to push yourself to join if you don’t have extra funds for it. To still answer the question, the tiers are $1, $5, $10, $15, and $20 in USD. Each come with different perks.

I had this idea for a future daughter for the MC and Cove being named "Poppy", after the flowers on their hill~

That’s a really sweet idea! I’m sure Cove would be a fan.

So if you don't mind me asking, how do you get Cove to propose to you in Step 4 and not the other way around? 

I’m afraid that’d be too big of a spoiler to give away before the epilogue’s release, at least in terms of specifics. Generally you’ll just have to be patient and try not to propose first, haha.

will we get to move in with cove in step 4 😮?? or is that a secret 

You can be living together with Cove in Step 4! Though you wouldn’t get to see the place itself. That’s up to your imagination.

Is it bad that I'm completely in love with Cove's dad... What I gotta pay to romance Cliff 😭 (I don't mean as Jamie because that would be wack) 

That’ll cost one million 20 twenty dollar bills, haha. I’m really glad you like him, though sadly we aren’t able to make a separate game where you can romance Cliff. I wish we had enough time to make tons of new scenes/extra stories in the Our Life world, but it just takes too long. Maybe people will make fanworks about it.

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[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

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“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, By Peter B. Parker

Chapter 1: Fix-it

So @preciouspeterbparker and I have been working on this fic and we are SO excited to finally share this with everyone!! It started as a WandaVision-fueled concept and turned into a whole ass fic. We’re absolutely obsessed and we hope you guys love it as much as we’re loving writing it!! I hope everyone enjoys💕

Summary: After Peter’s identity has been compromised, he runs to the only place he can think of, as memory-filled it may be. He may be alone, but the loneliness was something he’d worked on becoming accustomed to. And it was something he could fix, given the right technology.

Lucky him, that tech fit right in the palm of his hand.

Warnings: Peter is 17, set directly after FFH, canon death mention, canon divergence, inappropriate use of Stark tech

Ao3 link

————

Peter’s eyes were wide as he crouched on top of the lamp post and stared at the screen, stunned. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now.

It had to have been an illusion. It wasn’t real. Right?

His brain was racing, thoughts moving too quickly to keep up with what was going on.

His name was said. His real name. The name ‘Peter Parker’ didn’t just belong to a nobody anymore.

It belonged to Spider-Man.

Which meant it belonged to the public. The public who blindly believed that he was a murderer.

His body moved before he could think about what he was doing, swinging over the crowds that stared at him in shock. He ignored the sound of MJ calling his name from below, desperate to get away. And it would be better for her if she wasn’t associated with him. She’d be safe if people didn’t know.

People yelled, their voices coupled with the sounds of the city pushing him towards overstimulation. They were angry, throwing things in an attempt to knock him down. But nothing got high enough. He stayed well above everyone, breathing heavily. He felt like he was going to pass out.

His eyes flitted around, glancing at all the buildings around him, all the possible routes, without really focusing on any of them. Where was he going? He couldn’t go home; there was no way he could face May. It was guaranteed that she’d seen the clip already and he didn’t want her to be super worried about him. He couldn’t do that to her. Not when things had finally started looking up for her, not when she finally seemed truly happy again.

Ned’s house wasn’t an option either. His best friend’s parents had a shaky opinion of Spider-Man last time he’d heard and he didn’t want his entire friendship to fall apart there.

He definitely couldn’t involve Michelle in this. They had pretty much moved on from their ill-fated attempt at romance that ended when she couldn’t deal with the nightmares he still had, but he wasn’t over it enough for that to be a viable option.

His brain screamed one name but his heart ached over the mere thought. He could only imagine one way for this to be okay, for him to ever feel truly okay again. It wasn’t even a possibility anymore and he knew it. But that didn’t make the pain any less excruciating.

No matter how much he wanted it to happen, Tony couldn’t save him from this.

The reality tugged at his heart and stole the breath from his lungs. He had to pause on top of a building, perched on the ledge so he could easily take off again if he needed to.

It had been almost nine months since the man had died. Since he’d saved everyone else and sacrificed himself. But it still hurt Peter like the wound was fresh.

He knew that the move had to be made. Someone had to do it.

But god, he wished he had been the one to take the fall. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret not getting the gauntlet from Mr. Stark before he snapped.

Maybe his motives were purely selfish. Because any time he considered the idea, it wasn’t for the good of everyone else.

He just didn’t like living in a world without Tony Stark.

Peter heard someone opening the door that led to the rooftop and he bolted again, not needing to be caught. But he still needed to figure out his destination.

Then it clicked. A real possibility. Even though he’d have to do more than swing to get there.

The compound upstate.

It was almost completely in ruins when he’d last seen it, destroyed by Thanos and his army. And it wasn’t likely it was too much better since the person funding it….

Well, he couldn’t be in charge of the upkeep anymore. Peter didn’t even like thinking about that part of it.

But he’d be able to hide there for a while, at least. Completely unbothered. There weren’t too many people that knew about the exact location or how to get there. So he’d be safe while everything cooled down.

He could use some time alone anyways.

In order to get there, he’d need to drive. But he didn’t exactly have access to a car. And it was highly unlikely he’d be able to get an Uber while everyone thought he was a murderer.

There was one person he knew he could trust. Although Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to pull him into everything.

But he really did need a ride. He had to get out of the city. There was no other option.

“Karen? Can you call Happy for me?”

“Of course, Peter.”

There was a dialing noise for a few seconds before the call picked up.

“Peter? Where are you?” Happy was as harsh as ever as soon as he picked up.

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I need a favor. Please, I need a ride to get out of town. I can’t deal with all of this. Please.” His voice cracked pitifully on the last word.

A moment of silence before a heavy sigh crackled through the speakers in his mask, the sharp sound making him wince. “May wants you to come home. She’s kind of freaking out here, she just saw the news.”

Peter chewed his lip, his eyes dropping to the crowds in the street below. They were all watching him, phones trained on his every move. The feeling of their eyes on him made his skin crawl. “I can’t. Tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t go home. Not right now. Not yet.”

Happy didn’t say anything for a minute, but Peter could hear May’s frantic plea in the background. He felt horrible. But he couldn’t go back. Nearly everyone in the whole city was against him. He couldn’t deal with that. And he didn’t want May to have to figure everything out for him.

Finally the other man spoke again. “I can’t help you. It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s the principle. I’m not helping you run away.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. It doesn’t matter the circumstance. You’re running away. And I’m not going to be a part of it. Just come home, Peter,” Happy told him, his voice gentler then the young man had ever heard it.

“Karen, end call.” In a brief moment of anger, Peter hung up. He knew Happy and May were right. But he just couldn’t go home. He was already sick of being leered at and the broadcast had just gone live. It would only get worse.

And he still didn’t have a ride.

A heavy sigh left him, the sound accurately conveying his sheer exhaustion.

The directions to the compound were something he knew well, he’d probably be able to instruct someone there in his sleep. That wasn’t the issue. It was just so far and without a ride it would take forever.

Maybe a run would do him good. A very, very long run.

***

He’d made an extremely brief stop before leaving the city, buying a set of civilian clothes (even though that didn’t matter, where he was going), a small backpack to hold everything, and enough food for approximately two weeks. It wasn’t the most nutritious stuff, but it was something he could survive on until he felt safe enough to go back home.

After that, it took a few hours for him to finally reach the compound site, but at least he hadn’t been spotted. Most of his escape had been through woods, so despite the fact that he was now an extremely recognizable face, no one saw him. Or tried to come after him, at least.

The sun had set, only the barest bit of orange still hanging above the horizon as he walked up to the damaged building. At least it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d remembered.

It was completely destroyed in some places, while others were just crumbling. It seemed like someone had tried to fix bits and pieces, but eventually just gave up. No longer was it the beautiful campus that Tony created. But it would do for what he needed.

Peter headed to one of the more intact areas, breathing heavily as he finally was able to relax. No more running to try and get to his destination as fast as possible. He was there and he could finally calm down.

No one else was within miles of the place. He was safe.

But it was so lonely. That was par for the course, though, he supposed. He’d been feeling lonely for a while now, despite the best attempts of those around him.

He decided to settle down in one of the old training rooms. It was probably one of only spaces still mostly together. The roof hadn’t been displaced at all, the walls only had the slightest bit of charring. The space was huge, but a lot of it was taken up by pieces of furniture and equipment. At least it didn’t feel extremely empty.

He sat on the ground, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head against the wall. It was almost nice to be able to just sit and not be worried about being caught.

Almost.

The silence screamed at him, amplifying his anxious thoughts and nearly suffocating him.

Having someone to talk to would have been nice. But who was he supposed to talk to? He still felt bad about hanging up on Happy, so he wasn’t a choice and neither was May. Ned would probably make things worse, despite just wanting to help, so he couldn’t do that either. Thinking about MJ just made him feel guilty, so she was off limits too.

No, if he was honest with himself, there was only one person he really wanted to talk to.

The thought took him by surprise all over again, grief clenching around his heart like a vice grip.

Tony would know what to do. He’d be able to easily get Peter out of the insane situation, fixing everything all up again and making it all right. He’d gotten himself out of plenty of messes, why would this be different?

For just a moment, Peter smiled to himself as he imagined how Mr. Stark would have handled everything. None of it would have felt so grave. There would have been a joke or two made before he worked his magic and made Peter safe again. It would have been over and forgotten about before dinner.

Then reality sunk in again, as it always did.

Tony wasn’t there to help. He couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be ever again.

Peter didn’t like thinking about the fact that he was gone, but if he didn’t tell himself that it was true, that it had really happened, then he’d get hope again and fall apart. He didn’t have the luxury of falling apart when everything was already such a mess.

As a distraction, he began sorting through the backpack he’d gotten, taking out every item and looking it over. Then he got to the front pocket and remembered the last thing he had tucked inside.

Since getting them back, Peter didn’t go anywhere without the EDITH glasses. He’d made the mistake of giving them to someone else before, a mistake he was clearly going to keep paying for. He couldn’t let anyone else get a hold of them again.

He slowly pulled them out, holding onto them for a moment and looking at them. His last gift from Tony. An extremely powerful gift that probably should have been given to someone else. But they weren’t. They were his, for better or worse.

Their full capabilities hadn’t really been something he’d thought about. He didn’t know much of anything about them, really. He knew they had an AI that had absolutely no chill and could control drones, but that was about it.

Peter hadn’t considered what the drones could actually do. The projections that Beck created had been intense and so real, it was hard to believe that he held the power to such a thing in his hands.

If entire beings and monsters could be created, what else could they do?

A sudden thought appeared, prodding at the grieving part of his brain. What were the limits of the projections? How much could they create?

How real could the illusions get?

Letting himself fantasize about possibilities was dangerous and he knew it. But just messing around with the technology wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was just going to familiarize himself with it some more. See what it was capable of.

For the night, however, he needed to sleep. It had been an exhausting day and his eyelids were heavy. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place ever, but it would do for the first night.

He was asleep within minutes of laying down, dreams of bringing Tony back comforting him. Fantasy was dangerous, no matter how he tried to excuse it.

But maybe it didn’t have to stay just a fantasy.

***

Peter slowly slid the glasses on, breathing shakily. His stomach was churning anxiously. He was still reeling from yesterday’s events and what they meant for him.

But at least now he had an idea, something to focus on, to keep him from getting trapped in a downward spiral.

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH greeted, voice soothing as always.

“Hey, um-“ he raked a hand through his hair. What was he doing? He didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what to ask, or how to ask it without sounding crazy.

EDITH, as intuitive as they came, seemed to sense his pause. “What do you need help with today, Peter?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed down the lump in his throat. “So...you know how Be- how Mysterio used the drones?” It was probably awful phrasing given everything that had happened. But it was his only frame of reference for the tech’s use first-hand.“Can I do that? The...the pictures and all. Projections.”

“Yes, Peter. You have access to each of those systems. Would you like to call them here?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. That was something. Maybe… “I...yeah. Please.” He knew the vast majority of the drones had been destroyed in the battle on the bridge. But he was sure that, in true Tony Stark fashion, there were more out there somewhere. Mr. Stark was nothing if not prepared.

Peter knew that the drones could create projections, illusions, elaborate scenes that were impossible to tell from reality. But he didn’t just want to see. He wanted to feel, too.

“EDITH? Can you run me through the programming you run on? Basics, advanced, everything in between.” He certainly had the time to go over it all.

“Of course, Peter.”

He had all the time in the world to figure things out, as far as he was concerned. And once he understood how the tech worked, he could bring his questionable plan to life. Piece of cake.

***

As requested, EDITH filled him in on everything. Her own coding and controls, as well as the tech she was based on, BARF (the name never failed to force a hint of a smile to his lips). He had a pretty good understanding of how it worked, especially after watching a video of the presentation Tony gave at MIT.

BARF allowed the wearer of the glasses to access their hippocampus and project their memories. Though Tony always maintained that the tech was intended to be therapeutic and assist in healing from past traumatic events, Beck had obviously allowed for the projection of whatever the wearer desired.

In this case, if it worked correctly, whatever Peter desired.

Since he wanted to be able to actually feel the illusion, he’d have to alter the programming to interact with other parts of his brain. Namely the parietal lobe, which was responsible for tactile sensory information.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

***

Peter slipped the glasses on again. “Hi, EDITH,” he started, biting his lip. Was he really going to do this?

“Hello, Peter. What can I help you with?”

“Run program: STARKER.” He’d slipped some of his own programming into her code in order to do what he wanted. No turning back now. He closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that it worked.

It had to work.

He thought of the only place he wanted to be right now. The place where he’d always felt at home.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched as pixels began to overtake the room, going from the ground up as everything fell into place around him. In a passing thought, he noted that it was similar to watching the smooth ooze of the nanobots that made up his Iron Spider suit. Then suddenly he wasn’t in a bare, badly destroyed training room. He was in Tony’s penthouse at the tower.

And he wasn’t the only one. The sight of his own illusion startled him, left him feeling disoriented. Illusion-Peter blinked at him blankly since he wasn’t thinking of anything in particular for him to do. It was...unsettling, looking at himself. Could he-

Closing his eyes again, Peter swallowed. He thought of his illusion, seeing things from his point of view-

When he opened his eyes again, he could no longer see himself. Much better. Now he was still able to see, feel, and interact with everything in the illusion without having to watch it play out like a movie, the way Tony had in that video. It was just like real life.

He looked at his surroundings again.

The window-wall in front of him looked out over the city, and the sun was shining brightly. To his left was a bar, and the elevator was to the right, sandwiched between two staircases, one of which went up and the other down. Peter’s eyes were wide as he slowly turned around, trying to take it all in. The amount of detail was incredible. He hadn’t realized how much of this place he remembered. The little conversation pit was there, complete with the semi-circle couch and the fireplace he’d seen in a photo spread years earlier. Everything screamed Tony, from the decor to the coffee and whiskey scented air.

But despite the astonishing realism, it still felt so empty. The space felt wrong. Incomplete.

There was definitely something missing. Or someone.

Peter chewed his lip, closing his eyes as he focused. Nervous energy was churning in his stomach. “Come on, EDITH,” he mumbled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was it, the make it or break it moment. “Do your thing.”

Everything was silent for a moment and Peter was worried that it hadn’t worked. His heart skipped a beat, thudding painfully in his chest. Maybe all the work he had put in meant nothing since it hadn’t originally been part of the program.

But slowly the pixels started again, building a figure up seemingly out of nowhere until it formed a full person.

The only person he wanted to see right now.

Tony blinked, a bit disoriented before he glanced over and saw Peter. He shot his signature cocky half-smile towards the young man. “Hey, kid. What did I miss?”

Peter let out a choked sound, a mix between a sob and a borderline-hysterical laugh. “Tony,” he rasped.

And suddenly everything felt okay again.

[unfrgivble-archive]

lucius malfoy’s connection to james moody

in 1897, lucius went on a business trip to new york city. he frequented delmonico’s whenever he was in new york. that is where he met richard selby. richard selby was a businessman, a seasoned sailor, and a member of the city’s seamen mission. they struck up a friendship rather easily and frequently wrote to each other. in 1904, both lucius and selby were introduced to a young 16 year old ship’s apprentice by the name of james moody. james was born and raised in scarborough in yorkshire. he was thin, yet strong and rather tall. lucius noticed first was how opposite young james was to himself. where lucius was cold in his outward demeanor, james was warm and outgoing. james enthusiastically kept up with lucius’s wit, taking lucius’s jabs with hearty belly laughs. though, there were times that james found lucius to be a bully and james was not afraid to stand up for himself. mister selby took james under his wing and along with lucius, james was introduced to high society. they took the boy to every expensive restaurant and club, buying james everything he needed to survive the next coming months on his voyages to australia. james had just finished a grueling journey from england, having faces storms that all but completely destroyed the ship. as james described the horrors of watching sails be torn down in the storm: it was an awful sight to see the great masses of canvas and rope rip up like silk with a noise like a train rushing through a tunnel. james also seemed very melancholy about the events of boadicea. reading the new york times, lucius learned that a few of james’ peers had been killed during the storms. having pressed on the subject, james admitted to talking one of the boy’s out of committing suicide once but had failed to stop the second attempt, which had been successful. james seemed even more bothered when it was reported as an accident and not what it was, a boy who had been bullied relentlessly into ending his life. james seemed to carry more guilt that he had not stopped the bullying sooner. year pass and lucius keeps in touch with selby and james, as time goes on, lucius and james fall out more and more, mostly over differences in opinion, whether it be political or just on how the world works. james is much more openminded and tolerant than lucius. they keep in contact only because of their connection to selby, who they are both very very close to. lucius funds the building of the rms titanic, which he keeps selby well informed on. selby tells lucius that he’s planned a trip to paris and that he’s planned to bring the now 24-year-old james there for a holiday. he invites lucius but the invitation is declined, as lucius has been invited on the maiden voyage of titanic. it matters not, as a few days later, james receives word that his request for leave has been denied and he cannot go to paris after all as he’s been stationed on the newly built rms titanic as her sixth mate. selby writes to lucius asking him to keep an eye out on james, as he has a funny feeling like something is going to go wrong. lucius takes this with a grain of salt but promises his friend that he would watch out for james. on the ship, james not only has to deal the looming gaze of second officer charles lightoller, but also the cold stare of lucius malfoy. james becomes increasingly annoyed with this, especially having run into lucius on a late night shift as he is walking the decks. james feels as if lucius is stalking him, where as lucius was simply getting air and wanted to make sure james was alright. they get into a verbal argument which james will later get into trouble for by the captain. james is tired of feeling as if lucius looks down upon him as an inferior and thinks him a child still. lucius tries to apologizes but uncharacteristically, james is not interested in hearing an apology any time soon. james tells lucius that they’ve never had anything in common and lucius does not care so why bother? lucius tries to explain that he has always cared for him and just want to make sure he is alright given selby’s premonitions.

“bollocks to that!” exclaims james. “you never thought me capable of anything. you have always believed me to be stupid, inexperienced and immature. you are only bothering with me because mister selby asked it of you -” “you know that is a lie. you needn’t put words in my mouth or project your own insecurities on me!” “you’re just like my father, mister malfoy. if you cared so much like you claim, perhaps you would respect my wishes and leave me alone.” “how many times can i apologize?” lucius snaps. “my patience is growing thin with your childish theatrics!” “only once more,” james growls. “you’ve wasted your time.”

that night, james is on duty. at around 11:40pm, a telephone call comes in from the crows nest. james answers the phone to receive the now infamous message, “iceberg! right ahead!” and with a just as infamous and what was once described as ‘a curiously detached courtesy’, james replies, “thank you.” lucius is in bed when he feels the shudder of the iceberg hitting the ship. and that is when the chaos begins. on deck, surrounded by panicking passengers and crew members of all classes, lucius searches desperately to make sure james gets on a lifeboat. selby’s premonitions were correct. disaster has occurred. when lucius finds james, he has just sent out lifeboat 16.

lucius grabs james’ shoulder, turning the young man to face him with a violent jerk. “what are you still doing onboard? all of the other junior officers have been sent out-” curiously calm, james replies. “there are not enough men to get these lifeboats filled. it would be wrong of me to leave-” “that is suicide.” lucius urges, grabbing james by his dark blue peacoat. looking into james’ face, he notices the dark circles that rim his ocean blue eyes and the fear rocks through james hits lucius very suddenly. james is just a boy. he is only a boy. “you are too young to sit and play hero, james-” “you are not my father.” james’ voice is even and calm. “and i am fine. whatever happens to me, mister malfoy, if i can save just one more person than i would die with purpose.” “what about that girl-?” “don’t bring her into this.” james bites back, but now there is a slight tremble. lucius has hit a nerve. “she will find another man better than me who she will love far more.” “she won’t find another man like you, james. not one so selfless and kind and courageous -” james turns his head, looking down. “please, mister malfoy. i am not a jealous man. i would be happy for her to be in love with another just as i am with her. now, there is work to be done. we are wasting time-” “and what of frank haywood?!” lucius grabs james’ shoulders now, roughly shaking him. “he’s dead. he’s been dead for years.” “you once wished that you could go back and save him. you would have stepped in and stopped him from being an idiot and walking into death.” james pulls away. “where are you going with this?” “don’t be dim. i am trying to save you.” “why?” there is genuine confusion in james’ voice. “you’ve never cared about what’s happened with me. you have always acted like you hate me when i have tried for years to earn your admiration.” “and i am sorry that i have not been clear that i do admire you and i do care for you. i don’t want you to die, jim.” james opens his mouth but a voice comes from behind the pair. “moody! get over here and help with these collapsibles!” james looks at lucius and then towards a nearly full lifeboat, officer wilde is looking for someone to man it. “i’m sorry, mister malfoy.” james walks to the officer’s quarters, where the collapsibles lay on the roof.

lucius knows that he will not survive the sinking. even though he tries to secure himself a seat on a lifeboat, it ultimately fails and he is stuck onboard. it is for the best, he thinks. he may still have time to convince james to save himself. except that the water is to james’ knees as he exclaims to a shipman that there is no time to attach the collapsible to the falls and the water will just have to carry the lifeboat off of the deck itself. lucius follows a crowd who are fighting to get to the collapsibles. lucius manages to push through the crowd and chief officer wilde, recognizing lucius as an official from the white star line, allows lucius through if he has information to pass along.

“get in the boat!” lucius calls, though the rushing water, panicked screaming and the steely groaning of the ship mask his voice. “what?!” james replies, holding his hand to his ear. “get in-” before lucius could finish his sentence, a wave rushes up on deck, sweeping all of the men in that area off of their feet. both lucius and james are swept into the bitter cold atlantic, into the suction. cold, rushing waters engulfs lucius as he is pulled under, ringing and a haunting moan from the sinking titan assault his ears. the water is only lit by what is left of the ship’s lights. he sees james fighting frantically to reach the surface again but he is fighting the force of a crushing giant rushing towards the ocean floor. lucius reaches out to grab james and he does the same. the grip, though strong, is not nearly strong enough. their hands pull apart. james gets pulled lower and lower, panic written on the young man’s face but he is not giving up. so sure that james will pull through, lucius is able to swim to the surface. he waits for james to appear. and he waits. and he waits. and he waits. he waits more. and as the screaming becomes louder, it is then he realizes that james isn’t coming back. it is only fifteen minutes before lucius meets his own fate, suffering from severe and fatal hyperthermia. 

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter fifteen

Finally, here we are! I’m so sorry that I left y’all on a cliffhanger for such a long time but I needed to be in the proper mood to capture the tone of the last scene in this chapter. All we have left after this is the epilogue!! Hope y’all enjoy!

Malcolm doesn’t remember the last time a gunshot was so loud. It takes away all of the sound in the room like a vacuum had opened up in the center stealing one of his most vital senses. Only his own screaming remained, raw and bloody from the pieces of his heart still left in his chest. He can taste the copper through the cloth where the blood had sprayed his face.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Not when he knows what he will see. His mother will be lying on the cement, too still. All of the color he has in his life fading with her skin tone. Bright and lively eyes will stare blankly up at the sheets of metal, denied the last opportunity to see the sky that she loves so dearly. The one person who refused to leave his side even when he was ungrateful ripped away violently. All she ever wanted was for them to be happy, she pushed herself to make sure they were.

Oh god, how will he tell Ainsley.

His shoulders wrack with sobs and he rocks back and forth trying to gather the little control he has left to open his eyes and face reality. 

Someone grabs him by the shoulders roughly and every ounce of anger explodes out of him. He thrashes around using every part of his body that isn’t tethered to the chair to knock the person off their balance. It works and he hears the person crash but they’re immediately replaced by another.

This one wraps their arms around him, a hand holding the back of his neck with manicured nails digging into his skin. The grip forces his head into a shoulder where his face is buried into a smooth silk blouse. But it’s the smell that makes him stop moving, bourbon and vanilla permeates his senses and dissipates his anger.

He pulls back, eyes wide and searching for answers.

Blue eyes stare back at him, red rimmed but smiling. A relieved laugh escapes her lips while she pulls the fabric from his mouth.

“Mom?” He whispers, his voice breaking.

He takes in the scene fully, Dr. Garcia is still slumped in her chair but she’s stirring clearly still alive but not entirely aware yet. The person he knocked to the ground was Dani, a pocket knife in hand looking a little winded after being headbutted in the stomach. The killer is on the ground, a hole in the middle of his forehead likely dead before he even hit the ground.

He has so many questions. Where did Dani come from? How did she know the perfect time? Did they plan this? Where is everyone else?

Those questions matter so little once his arms and legs are free.

He crashes into his mom, arms wrapping around her stomach so he can bury his face in her hair. Every image that flashed through his mind haunts him as he tightens his grip on her. He almost pulls away when she groans in pain, remembering it had not nearly been long enough into her recovery for him to be holding her so tight.

However, her arms wrap around him too, keeping him just as close to her chest. Her fingers brush through his hair, her voice a comforting whisper in his ear as he breaks down in sobs.

For all he knows she could be a figment of his broken psyche. The last piece of straw that breaks the camel’s back taking what’s left of his sanity with her. He breathes the scent in, his own hands gripping the back of her shirt. If he lets go she will disappear, just another body in a morgue. Just another life taken by a killer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scene Gil walks in on is heartbreaking.

His gun was still drawn as he followed the screams. When they stopped he feared the worst. He rounds the corner on the scene that stops him in his tracks.

Malcolm clings to Jessica, both of them standing grasping the other as if they are the last connection to this world. They don’t even notice the new presence in the room. Too busy assuring themselves that they are, in fact, still alive.

It’s Dani who sees him first, checking in on Dr. Garcia who was slowly coming to before coming over to him. Her face gives away everything, her panic that had been building since she got off the phone with him to the relief that she got him in time. She opens her mouth, ready to deliver the report of what happened to him in detail.

He doesn’t let her.

Gil grabs her wrapping Dani in a hug around her shoulders and letting out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding for the entire drive. If it weren’t for her, god he doesn’t even want to begin to think what would have happened to his family. If Jess had died, it would have destroyed them all. Malcolm, already fractured by his father, would be gone. Ainsley just starting to put her life back together again, stuck wandering from room to room searching for someone who isn’t there. He would lose her all over again with no chance of repair this time.

“Thank you.” He whispers to her. “Thank you for saving my family.” She swallows with a short, glassy eyed nod.

Jess must have heard him because he meets her eyes next. The moment is oddly familiar, one where they passed a look over Malcolm who was so much smaller back then. The memory feels so far as he stares at them. He’d wanted to go to them, all that time ago. Wrap the both of them tightly and protect them from every danger. Ainsley had been so small, she hardly knew the weight the two of them carried on their shoulders.

He doesn’t wait for her extended hand this time. Not when he could have lost them both in one fell swoop. He wraps his arms around them both, Malcolm startling for a second at the new presence before he settles again. Only Ainsley is missing from the embrace, no doubt once the scene is secure or once they’re all safely away she will join. 

Jessica’s hand comes to rest on his own over Malcolm’s back and he presses a kiss to her hair. Thankful that the nightmare is finally over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Standing over a grave has always been a wretched experience for Jessica. When she lost her parents in the wreck shortly after Malcolm was born, after the 23 women were killed, after Eve. Her hatred of death loomed in her very presence.

Still she attended every funeral. She funded every single one without a single moment of hesitation. Tommy Moore and Andrew Rankin’s were on the same day. She nearly wept with relief when she met the little boy named Michael. The parents informed her that Michael had been found playing on the swings by a police officer and picked up by his mother shortly after. Adolpho’s funeral was a private affair. Only his family and her own in attendance but it was nice. It felt fitting for him.

Freddy’s was the worst, she thinks as she stares at his headstone. She had been blocked in on either side by Malcolm and Ainsley, their hands holding tightly onto her own. Dr. Garcia’s eulogy for her son was short. Broken up with sobs and moments to gather herself. She wishes, painfully, about how it should’ve been her but Gil’s hand on her shoulder stops those thoughts.

“It’s not your fault.” She startles at the voice she hadn’t heard approaching. The woman who had been plaguing her thoughts is standing on her right. The doctor’s eyes are red rimmed, tears have been shed by nearly everyone in attendance that day but especially them. “Your son told me what you did trying to save Freddy.”

“Malcolm tends to exaggerate to protect others.” She laments.

“I don’t think so.” The entire time her eyes remain ahead, never looking at Jessica. “I read about you, you know. After the surgeon got arrested. How many of those families did you take care of?” She doesn’t know how to answer that question. “And your daughter told me that you already plan on setting up a school fund for the grandson of the second victim.” Jessica shakes her head, of course her children did that. They’re both such meddlers. “You didn’t do this to him.”

“I left him behind.”

“You went to get help.” Dr. Garcia argues and Jessica’s jaw snaps shut. “Any longer in there and your infection would have spread. You can’t argue with that, I was your doctor.” She sighs in defeat at that claim. “You tried to save my son. You’re a hero.”

“Your son was the hero. He cut up his shirt to tend to my injuries. He would’ve been a great doctor. You should be proud.”

The woman’s eyes get glassy at that. Her gaze casts over to another figure staring at them. “That’s his girlfriend. I’m sorry if she says anything angry to you. Freddy was all she had.”

“That’s not true.” Jessica swallows, grabbing the other woman’s hand. “She has you.”

“I don’t know if she’ll let me take her in.”

“Give her time.” Jessica looks to her own children talking with Gil. “They come around.” Dr. Garcia smiles, a sad one that is too reminiscent of a goodbye. Her heart aches for the woman that had to outlive her child. She would do anything to make sure that Malcolm and Ainsley would live long and happy lives.

“His father will take care of him. At least until I can see them again.” Jessica’s eyes fall on the grave beside Freddy’s. Her throat closes again with the familiar panic. “Please, don’t let this man tear you apart more than he already has. That monster can’t hurt them now. He can’t hurt you now.”

Tears slide unwillingly down her cheeks as she nods.

Jessica hopes she’s right.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

||3rd Person POV||

Scattered amongst the Byers house, the group of survivors mill about, processing the newest development as a whole. The party occupies the dining table, aside from Y/n who has positioned herself on the floor by the end of the couch where her best friend and crush lay unconscious. She sits with her legs folded beneath her, and her body leaning against the arm of the couch, happy to be sitting down and letting her legs and feet properly rest for the first time all day. It didn't help her exhaustion much either that she was still processing the information that Hopper had given them on the drive over.

Her last conversation with Will runs over in her mind, and despite the taste of pain and rejection it leaves on her tongue, a strong pull in her gut tells her to be patient. It isn't really him. And more than anything, she knows she can't leave him again. Something deep inside her told her to be nearby.

Jonathan is beside her, kneeling at Will's side with one hand on his brother's arm and the other kindly stroking the hair away from Will's paled and clammy face. Nancy stands just to the side, a comforting hand on his shoulder and a pained look on her face. She can't help but feel a deep sympathetic ache in her heart, not only for the poor young boy caught in the middle of such a tremendous disaster but the visible toll it puts on his loved ones.

"Hey," Jonathan croaks to his unconscious brother. "Hey there, it's me. I'm sorry, bud. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should have been here."

Y/n's watery e/c eyes move to Jonathan and she feels a large spike through her heart at his words. While she does not entirely understand where the two teenagers were during the past few days, she doesn't need to know for her to feel the weight of his words on her heart. She knows all too well the feeling, the overwhelming guilt, and regret that she hadn't stayed with him.

She should have known, or at the very least she should have come back. And had she never left, would she ever have had her trip with El? Once again she has to correct herself on her friend's name, Jane is what she went by now. Either way, the question brought too many unwanted scenarios flooding her mind, so she casts away the thoughts, focusing on the moment. Instead, Y/n's attention drifts to the Chief's agitated voice as he stomps anxiously back and forth, gripping the telephone.

"Sam Owens. Dr. Sam Owens,"

There's another beat of silence apart from the muffled and garbled voice on the other end.

"I don't know how many people are there," Hopper snaps. "I don't know how many people are left alive!"

A strained sigh leaves Steve's lungs and he folds his arms over his chest, continuing his pacing in the kitchen.

"I am the police!" The man barks back into the phone. "Chief Jim Hopper!"

Y/n's head lifts sluggishly off the arm of the couch, and she watches glumly as he tries to contact help. Though deep down she knows they are alone. He scoffs, shuffling back to the wall where the phone was mounted.

"Yes, the number that I gave you, yes... 6767... I will be here,"

Hopper slams the phone back onto the hook, and the shrill 'ding' of the phone fades out in the air. Dustin meets the man's eye, thinking the same thing as his sister.

"They didn't believe you, did they?"

"We'll see."

"'We'll see'?" Mike retorts. "We can't just sit here while those things are loose!"

"We stay here, and we wait for help," Hopper growled, his voice low. Hopper does not give Mike another chance to speak and he stalks off down the hall. Upon arrival, he had taken a headcount, and it didn't take long for him to realize they were now one head short. His instincts correctly lead him to the end of the hall, and he stops at the only closed door. Her door.

He knocks softly, and unsurprisingly, he receives no answer. Tentatively, he opens it, and it parts with a defining creak. His shoulders slump sadly at the sight of her, she sits on the end of her bed, draped in a knitted blanket and is staring numbly at the floor.

With a heavy heart, he lumbers across the room and takes a seat on the floor in front of her. He grunts softly as he settles in against the wooden dresser that presses into his spine. But he does not move, nor does he say a single word. He knows that there is nothing he can say to her that will fix anything, cause he knows, Hawkins lost a good man today.

His heart breaks for her as a weak and tired sob shakes her body. All he can do for her is be there, and as he does so he too can feel the tremendous loss Bob had left with them.

It was a loss that touched everyone that night. Once Hopper had ended the phone call and disappeared down the hall, not a single person spoke. The entire house was bathed in a heavy silence that weighed down their hearts and dimmed all hope. Not so much the loss of a good man, but the crushing reality of the situation they all now face. No matter the terrors that Will and the others had faced the previous year, as horrible as they were, were dwarfed in comparison to the grim truth.

No one was safe now.

Mike tore his eyes away from the table he sat at, his mind playing back the short amount of time he had spent with Bob. His eyes were pulled along the walls as they traced the puzzle of tunnels the man had helped them solve just hours ago. His eyes took him across the room to one of many locations they had mapped out, the Eno River that ran just past Y/n by the couch. His gaze halted when he saw her, she was now at Will's side, still slumped over with her weight against the couch and her eyes numbly grazing over Will, making sure he was okay.

He tried his hardest to brush away the ache in his chest as he saw the way she looked at Will. Not out of jealously for her or her affection, but it reminded him all too well of the night he last saw El. Just before she vanished with the Demogorgan, when he stayed by her side, hiding her away from the danger for as long as he could. The look on Y/n's face, the worry her eyes held, and her loyalty to the one she cared so deeply for was not something foreign to Mike.

It was an expression he wore several times in the week El had been apart of his life. And it was the overall fear and dedication he felt towards her when the bad men almost got her. How ill she had become, the turmoil and strain that she had been subjected to her entire life, and then some just to save him. The longing he felt just for her to be okay. And it was this longing he saw between Y/n and Will, and now more than ever he wished El was with him. She would understand.

Finally, Mike looks away, unable to dwell on the sight much longer. That's when he spots the forgotten pile of puzzles Bob had brought for Will. He feels another painful prick of sadness at the sight; the remains of one of countless good gestures.

He rises to his feet and trudges towards the pile of puzzles, limply picking up the blue plastic Soma cube. A sullen look crosses his face as he stares at it, thinking back to the conversation from the previous day.

"Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?"

Lucas picks up his head, as does the rest of the founding Party. "Really?"

"He petitioned the school to start it and everything. Then he had a fund-raiser for equipment." He looked to Dustin, in particular. "Mr. Clarke learned everything from him. Pretty awesome, right?"

Choruses of agreement rippled through the party, and Mike returned to the table with the puzzle in hand.

"We can't let him die in vain."

Y/n's gaze breaks away from Mike and her friends, returning one last time to Will's sleeping form. She rises to stand on her knees, keeping one ear on the conversation as she hesitates to leave.

"Well, what do you want to do, Mike?" Dustin asks pointedly. "The Chief's right on this."

Y/n's hand falls on Will's hand out of reflex, signaling to him with a single squeeze that she had to leave, but she'd be nearby. He does not react immediately in his unconscious state, but his hand under hers begins to twitch, trying to pull away. She frowns at this, a strong sense of déjà vu washing over her though this time she does not jump back. Instead, she pulls her hand away, and rises to her feet, a spark of interest in her eyes as pieces begin to fall into place.

"We can't stop those Demodogs on our own." Dustin finishes.

"Demodogs?" Max asked, less than impressed.

Dustin looks around at his friends expectantly, disappointed in their lack of enthusiasm for the nickname. A look that was not lost even on his own sister that had joined the table, standing next to Mike.

"Demogorgan, dogs," he explained with both hands, pushing them together so his palms met. "Demodogs. It's like a compound. A play on words-"

"Okay," Max conceded.

"I mean, when it was just Dart, totally," He gestured to Y/n briefly. "But there's an army now. We don't stand a chance, not even with Y/n."

The group, including Steve, nods in agreement, aside from Mike whose brow molded into a confused frown. "Wait, say that again?"

Y/n was once again reminded of the secret she was forced to harbor, and winces involuntarily knowing she has to avoid telling him. Quickly, her mind jumps to Darts escape only days ago.

"Remember what happened when Dart got loose? What I accidentally did?" She asks, breaking her silence since her arrival.

His mind flashes to that day, a flicker of confusion contorts his face before it settles on a look of intrigue. "You mean, that weird thing you did with your hands?"

A dry laugh leaves her throat and she nods. "Yeah, you could say that. Point is, I've... gotten some practice at it."

"Yeah, man," Lucas cuts in, fighting back an impressed smile. "You should have seen it, she fought off a couple of those things,"

"Demodogs," Dustin mumbled, earning an annoyed glare from his friend. "Whatever man, it doesn't matter. What matters is how we defeat an entire army of... Demodogs."

"His army," Mike mumbles, something clicking in his mind.

"Huh?" Y/n asks.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, pushing himself off the fridge he was previously leaning on.

Mike meets the older boys' eye, excitement growing in his demeanor as it all began to fall into place.

"His army," Mike repeats, raising several brows. "Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army, too."

Without a word, he turns and marches down the hall towards Will's room; the last place he saw the drawing. The rest curiously follow, and Mike thrusts the drawing into Dustin's hands, the others circle him to catch a glimpse. An icy chill runs down Y/n's spine when she recognizes the drawing from her last visit.

"The shadow monster," Dustin murmurs.

Mike nods. "It got Will that day on the field. The doctor said it was like a virus, and it infected him."

Max nods along, her brows knitted together in thought. "And so this virus, it's what's connecting him to the tunnels?"

"To the tunnels, to the monsters, to the Upside Down, to everything."

"'Kay, woah, woah, woah," Steve urges, taking the paper from Dustin to examine it. "Slow down, slow down,"

"Okay, so, the shadow monster's inside Will," Mike explains. "And if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will."

"And so does Dart," Lucas adds.

"Yeah, it's like what Mr. Clarke taught us. The hive mind."

"Hive mind?" Steve asks.

"It's some sort of collective conscious," Y/n answers.

Dustin nods eagerly, finishing her thought. "Basically, it's this super-organism."

"And this is the thing that controls everything," Mike says, pointing to the monster in Will's drawing. "It's the brain."

Dustin becomes entranced at the creature, his eyes stretching wide as he recalls something. "Like the Mind Flayer,"

Lucas snaps his fingers suddenly, his eyes widening as large as Dustins and they share a knowing fearful look. A grave look befalls the original members of the party, recognizing the evil creature they had fought on so few campaigns. It was damn hard to fight, and near impossible to defeat with no casualties. It was their greatest challenge.

Steve and Max wear a similar frown, speaking simultaneously, completely lost. "What?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Will's D&D handbook is thrown into the center of the kitchen table, creating a loud 'thwack' as the hardcover meets the surface. In the center of the pages is an illustration of the cloaked figure with an angled head. It had large beady eyes and where the mouth should be, were several long tentacles, not unlike Will's drawing.

"The Mind Flayer,"

Dustin looks around the table, addressing the group. Everyone was now gathered together in the kitchen, aside from Joyce.

"The hell is that?" Hopper asked tiredly.

"It's a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient that it doesn't even know it's true home. Okay, it enslaves races from other dimensions by taking over their brain with its highly developed psionic powers."

The Chief lets out a heavy sigh.

"Oh my god," he grumbles, gesturing to the open book on the table. "This isn't real, this is a kids game."

"N-No, it-it's a manual," Dustin defends. "And it's not pretend. And unless you know something we don't, this is the best metaphor."

"Analogy," Lucas corrects.

"Analogy?" Dustin fires back. "That's what you're worried about right now?"

"Hypocrite," Y/n mumbles.

"-Okay, fine! It's an analogy for understanding whatever the hell this thing is." Dustin continues, unware of his sister's criticism.

Nancy shakes her head from beside Dustin, dismissing the argument and she leans down to examine the book.

"Okay, okay, so this Mind Flamer thing--"

"-Flayer. Mind Flayer." Dustin corrects irritably.

Nancy wears a similar expression and fights an eye roll as she moves on.

"-What does it want?"

"To conquer us, basically. It believes it's the master race."

"Oh, uh," Steve motions for the lost word on his tongue as he makes a connection. "Like, uh, like the Germans!"

Steve receives a room full of vexed expressions. To his right, Dustin looks at him blind-sighted.

"Uh, the Nazis?"

Embarrassed, Steve nods. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, the Nazis."

"Uh, if the Nazis were from another dimension, totally."

Unbeknownst to the rest of the circle, Hopper turns away in disbelief and overwhelmed with great annoyance. He sighs, beginning to rub his eyes, completely exasperated as Dustin continues.

"Uh, it views other races, like us, as inferior to itself."

"It wants to spread and take over other dimensions," Mike adds.

Y/n looks around the table, specifically at those unfamiliar with the beast. "And it won't stop until it gets exactly what it wants, it's relentless."

Lucas nods. "We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it."

"That's great," Steve sighs, turning away to pace as he continues mumbling to himself. "that's great, that's really great. Jesus!"

Nancy leans forward once more to examine the page, before picking up the manual. "Okay, so, if this thing is like, a brain that's controlling everything, then if we kill it-"

"We kill everything it controls." Mike finishes.

"We win," Dustin nods.

"Theoretically," Lucas reminds them.

Hopper steps forward, taking the book from Nancy, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Great, so how do you kill this thing? Shoot it with fireballs or something?"

Dustin suppresses a laugh and shakes his head. "No. No, no fire-- No fireballs. Uh, you summon an undead army, uh-"

Dustin's excited demeanor falters when he sees the Chief's agitated gaze, and instead stutters through.

"because- uh, because the zombies... you know, uh, don't have brains, an-and the Mind Flayer, it uh, it... likes brains."

Hopper has already closed the book, and Nancy only dawns a perplexed look. Trying to ease the Chief's temper, he shakes his head and shrugs it off.

"It's just a game," Dustin shrugs, meekly.

THUD

Hopper threw the book back down on the table in his anger, turning away.

"The hell are we doing here?" He grumbles to himself.

"I thought we were waiting for your military backup?" He calls after him.

"We are!"

"Even if they come, how are they gonna stop this?" Mike points out. "You can't just shoot this with guns."

"You don't know that! We don't know anything!"

"We know it's already killed everything in that lab-!"

"And we know the monsters are gonna molt again!" Lucas defends.

"And we know that it's only a matter of time before the tunnels spread pass the edge town." Dustin proclaims.

Finally, Y/n jumps in, feeling a swell of confidence. "And we also know that Will is the only host, which means we have to find a way to get the Mind Flayer out of him without killing him. Guns definitely won't accomplish that."

"They're right," a soft broken voice cuts in from the hallway.

Everyone turns to find Joyce, her voice is strained and her eyes are puffy from crying.

"We have to kill it... I want to kill it."

Hopper steps toward her, concerned.

"Me too," Hopper agrees, his voice immediately softer. "Me too, Joyce, okay? But how do we do that? We don't exactly know what we're dealing with here.

"No, we don't," Y/n agrees, a hint of hope in her voice. "But he does."

Everyone watches as Y/n returns to the edge of the living room, her gaze fixed on the small boy on the couch. Her e/c eyes grow soft momentarily at what she sees. She knows the Mind Flayer has almost completely taken over, but deep in sleep, all that's left is Will. Her best friend, the boy who always treated her with such kindness. The boy who had invited her in, the boy who had won her a duck at the arcade just cause she admired it in passing. The boy who never wanted to hurt a soul, and would do anything for the ones he cared for.

"If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it's him." She looks over her shoulder at Hopper briefly. "We also know that Will has a connection to it. He sees what it sees, and he knows what it knows. He'll know how to defeat him."

"I thought we couldn't trust him anymore?" Max asks. "That he's a spy for the Mind Flayer?"

Y/n shakes her head thoughtfully.

"Not necessarily," she mumbles, growing more excited as a plan begins to form. "Not if we find a way to confuse the Mind Flayer. He won't be able to spy-"

The same thought crosses Mike's mind and he brightens happily, meeting Y/n's eye. "-if he doesn't know where he is!"

Y/n smiles excitedly and nods.

"Exactly."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Please do not stop fighting for Black Lives! Here is a list of links that I encourage you to explore. As always, links will be in the comments which can be accessed if you are on a computer, OR if you are on mobile, should work so long as you are logged in through the website, not the app. Thank you!

Looking for resources such as books, tv, movies etc to help educate yourself but have limited/none access to obtaining them? Thanks to @ thechekhov   on tumblr for providing such links, there are plenty of other ways to educate ourselves.

1. Netflix released 13th and is now available on YouTube for free!

[link] 2. YouTube also houses plenty of other educational videos. For instance, a 20 minute video on the racial wealth gap

[link] 3. They also recommend googling specifically free anti-racism resources. Podcasts can be one of many such resources. Here is just one such article with a multitude of such resources

[link] HOW TO PROPERLY PROTECT PROTESTORS: I'll still post the link to the video just incase you might need a visual but essentially, it is not enough to blur faces before posting. According to the video, the police do have the tech to unblur and get past this. Instead, download any app that allows you to paste text, specifically emojis, over the picture. Snapchat is a good one. Place the large black square emoji [⬛] over protestors faces AND THEN SCREENSHOT SO IT IS ALL ONE LAYER. Saving as is is not enough as it is still counted as layers. If you post anything from protests make SURE to do this since police are tracking people by photographs and videos.

[link]

Granted, I do not know how credible this is but it is SO worth it to be safe than sorry. I love you guys, and please stay safe 💕💕💕

+++

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[hotforhandman]

How would you end the series if you had the power to choose the ending?

Oh boy. This is gonna get pretty long, so imma put it under a cut. If I had the power, here’s what I’d do from here on out:

Machia and the rest of the League reach Shigaraki, and in the face of the overwhelming odds against them and the losses they’ve already sustained, the heroes are forced to fall back. In the wake of the battle, plus the destruction to surrounding cities, the general public starts to question the effectiveness and reliability of heroes- especially since they all left the cities that Machia was travelling through, meaning no heroes came to help when they were destroyed. Shigaraki learns about Twice’s death, and between that and everything else built up in his head he goes on a bit of a rampage. After a little while though, maybe some interference from the League members, he begins to realise that this stuff isn’t making him feel any better. He still feels like shit, he still hates everything, destroying this stuff is only a short-term catharsis. So maybe that’s when the League sit down and actually start to talk about what would make a real difference: flushing the corruption out of the system.

In the meantime, the heroes are facing the worst crisis they’ve ever seen. Protests up and down the country, parents pulling their kids out of hero programmes (maybe even show a few of the UA kids getting in rows with their parents about it, perhaps even show Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu getting shut down), funding pulled from hero agencies. Hero merch and even buildings are vandalised as people take their fear and uncertainty from the rising villain attacks and turn it against the people who are supposed to be saving them but failing to do so. Izuku sits down with All Might and All Might tells him everything about Nana, Kotaro and Tenko, and what Gran Torino had said to him. He laments that even as the number one he could never save anyone, and that a part of him knows that his role as the Symbol of Peace had a nasty double edge to it, that it convinced normal people that they don’t have to try- prompting flashbacks to the mall conversation. He tells Izuku that that’s why he chose him as his successor, because most people would just turn the other cheek and wait for a hero to show up, but Izuku didn’t do that.

At some point after continuing to train with OfA, Izuku makes contact with Nana, who tells him how much it hurt her to let go of her son, and how much she regrets it knowing what she knows now. She begs Izuku not to give up, to help her put right what she made wrong. Izuku tells her it wasn’t her fault, it was AfO’s, but agrees to help her anyway.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki and the PLF focus on liberating villains in captivity, including those in Tartarus. We see the return of several old faces. There are three major exceptions, though: first, we get Spinner. Spinner confronts Stain, and we get a bit more of his backstory. We get to see some of the abuse he suffered, how hard it was growing up looking like he does in a town that was openly hostile to heteromorphic quirks, and a story about how he went to his local hero office asking for help, only to be roughly rebuffed. Maybe he got briefly arrested after lashing out in anger. We learn that it was after this incident that he became a complete shut-in, until he saw Stain’s messages. To his dismay, Stain dismisses him too, saying that the League are no better, that Shigaraki is a false leader just looking for infamy the same way the heroes look for fame. Spinner is visibly hurt, and as he frees Stain for a moment it looks like he might leave with him, but in a fit of rage he turns and declares his loyalty to the only person he’s ever felt seen by, and kills Stain. After, it is shown that Dabi was watching.

Mr Compress and Toga find Overhaul, and Overhaul asks Toga where Twice is, being as dismissive and offensive towards him as always. Toga starts to scream at him, threatening him and breaking down, but Compress stops her. He soothes her for a few moments, then tells his own story about how he used to be in organised crime, and used to have a family, only to have it all taken away by his boss. That he’s found more kinship with Shigaraki and the League than he ever did in the Yakuza. Then he hands Toga back her knife - using his prosthetic hand - and lets her do what she wants to him.

Shigaraki goes straight to AfO. AfO praises him for what he’s become, tells him how proud he is, and Shigaraki sits down to talk. We find out that AfO had been planning to allow Ujiko to experiment on him from the start, that he’d been running smaller tests and experiments on him since he was a child without his knowledge, that his slightly enhanced physical attributes were due to this, but that he had to be sure Shigaraki’s body could handle it before activating the dormant form of AfO’s quirk he held. We find out more about how AfO groomed him and what his life was like in between AfO taking him in and the beginning of the series. At the end of their conversation - seemingly reminiscing about happy memories - AfO suggests that they leave together, that he continue to coach him in how to use his newfound powers despite his waning health. Shigaraki opens his arms as though to accept him, but as they embrace he activates Decay and says once again that he has no need for him anymore, that he thanks him but that he is so much more than AfO ever groomed him to be.

The end of the academic year rolls around simultaneously and we get to see a hollow and sparse student body watch the third years graduate and become pros, though many have either dropped out or been pulled out. Bakugou and Kirishima and several others argue about whether or not it’s worth continuing. Some even start talking about vigilantism, which has been on the rise lately. Aizawa, Izuku, and Eri visit Mirio, and Eri sincerely apologises that she couldn’t fix him before he graduated, which meant he couldn’t graduate into full hero status. Mirio smiles and assures her that at the end of the day, pro-heroes mean nothing if there aren’t normal people surrounding them helping out too, that he can be a hero in a different way. Eri hugs him.

I guess we could put a timeskip in here, some more stuff with the kids, idk. At some point in a massive publicity stunt, a large number of documents are sent to several media outlets including the medical records of one Todoroki Touya, as well as the details of the rearing and training of the now-retired hero Hawks, outing both the number one and the Commission itself for their dirty deeds. The Todorokis all come under fire from the press, being bullied for details, and Natsuo is the one who snaps and tells them everything. Enji, who’s been living apart from his family for a few months, makes a public apology and is pressured into retiring his agency and title. With the top agency in the country down, hero society all but collapses.

However, encouraged by Aizawa, Mic, and a few other teachers, the kids continue to train and work somewhere in the limbo between hero status and vigilantes. Maybe they even meet up with and work with some vigilantes to stop smaller crimes or side villains in the area. These sort-of-heroes rise in notoriety and publicity and people start coming to them for help.

Honestly idk what exactly to put in here, it’d need a bit more thought, but basically the PLF continues to pick off heroes and erode society, banding more and more villainous organisations together, until Izuku’s merry band of hero/vigilante hybrids consider themselves prepared to take them on, including Izuku being able to fully wield OfA.

Insert a large number of super epic battles in here, a handful of tragic deaths, and a few bridges and sympathies being formed (such as Aizawa and Mic with Kurogiri, maybe Shoji and Spinner, idk). Some of the villains point blank can’t be swayed, like Dabi, who admits to having sent the documents and tells Shoto that he regrets it, that he wishes Enji hadn’t retired so that he could burn him alive and laugh as he did so. Maybe Shoto beats him in a fight or maybe he completely burns himself out, either way he is defeated. Then we get to the final confrontation. Izuku vs Shigaraki. It’s a massive battle, all of their skills get to be used and seen, we’ve all seen Naruto, and when it looks like Izuku’s going to lose, that’s when he steps back and for a moment, lets Nana take over. That’s when Shigaraki hears the one thing he wanted to hear from any of his family, any of the people who claimed to care: I will try to do better. All of the vestiges band together to give Izuku a second chance, and Shigaraki redoubles his efforts in one last attempt to cut all ties to his past. At this point most of the other villains have either been subdued or have laid down their arms and are watching their battle. And Shigaraki pushes himself too far. Maybe he starts to struggle with his own mind like the Nomu, losing coherency. His emotions and his physical power too much for him to handle. Knowing that he’s not going to last much longer, at least not as himself, he forces Izuku down and makes him promise to do better, maybe somehow using quirk bullshit he shows him everything he’s been through, everything that we the readers know but that Izuku does not, and with tears in his eyes Izuku agrees. The hero-vigilantes and the remainder of the League work together to finally put him out of his misery.

Afterwards, whilst society begins to rebuild and recover and we see the hero system completely scrapped. Izuku himself heads the development of the new system, using all the masses of information he’s collected over the years plus everything he learned from Shigaraki and the League. Shigaraki gets a proper funeral, and though it’s a relatively quiet affair, Izuku and Toshinori are there, as are the remaining four core League members (though Dabi is in chains). Toshinori reflects on how, even though Shigaraki’s story started as something loveless and lonely, it ended with real friendship and a true family, and that he hopes somewhere Nana is greeting her grandson with the warmth and love he sorely lacked growing up. And the series closes on Izuku grown up, helping Eri with her high school application, flashing through some of the efforts being made by his surviving classmates to create a truly inclusive society where everyone, regardless of background, quirk, or circumstance is offered a hand. He contemplates how if only someone had reached out a hand to Shigaraki, he could have been like Eri, he could have been saved. But then he realises that despite all the pain and damage Shigaraki caused, if it weren’t for him then nothing would have changed, and even though hero society was ‘destroyed’, a much better thing is being put in its place. Izuku had become a number one hero he could be proud of himself for being. And so he helps Eri seal her envelope, and mutters a quick thank you out of the window, before heading out to help her post it.

-+-

Hooboy that took a long time to write. I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff I missed and plotlines that need polishing that I didn’t include, but that’s roughly what I would do if I was put in charge. Hope that’s a satisfying answer!

[dorevenge]

where ignorance is bliss - chapter 2: where grass was green

SUMMARY: Obadiah is off to Washington to assist with the war in Vietnam, and Peggy and Maria grow closer, as Maria learns something she wishes she didn't. [AO3 LINK]

CHAPTERS: 1 [2] 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ☆

November 15, 1959 – Bronx, New York, Obadiah’s Apartment

Struggling to find ways to pass the time after the war, Peggy frequented my apartment. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division (or, S.H.I.E.L.D., as everyone says to save precious time) has been involved in the fight with Vietnam for a few years now. Obadiah left for Washington right after the Stark Expo to give weapons consult in the war, and I haven’t seen him in almost three months. We would write letters sometimes, and phone even less. I moved into Obie’s apartment to take care of the place while he was away for an indeterminate amount of time, and Peggy crashed in the living more times than she would care to admit.

“Did you love him?” I ask, fixing the two of us another round of Old Fashions. The empty Chinese carryout containers are scattered across the coffee table before us. There’s a good restaurant between the S.H.I.E.LD. Headquarters and the apartment, and Peggy will frequently grab something on the way here.

“I only knew him for a couple months,” Peggy replies, taking the glass. I curl up next to her on the couch, our heads leaning in towards each other. “So it’s hard to say. It could have been. We were both young, thrown together during some of humanity’s darkest days. We were all looking for something to believe in.”

She swirls the glass in her hand, lazily watching the whiskey fall back down the side before continuing.

“What about you and Obadiah? Is this love?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” The corners of my mouth curl downwards on their own. Peggy notices. Peggy always notices.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s more like paradise when he’s gone rather than when he’s here.”

“Why is he your boyfriend if you don’t even like him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I take a large gulp of my Old Fashion, the whiskey burning the back of my throat. “He’s my fiancé.”

Peggy sits up, and my head slides off her shoulder to the cushion of the couch.

“Your what?” She takes my left hand into hers and finds my ring finger bare.

“I keep it in my sock drawer. Whether out of safekeeping or embarrassment, I’m not sure.” I sit up.

“When did this happen? And why did you say yes?” She looks at me with a tight expression, concern and worry on her face. Her red lipstick is all but gone, a faint imprint of it left on the rim of her class, and her usually tight curls hang loose around her neck and chin. If she weren’t so upset, I’d reach out to tuck one of them behind her ear.

“The last day of the Expo. He… He’s comfortable. We have our routine. We play chess together, I straighten his ties, I smile at the men he wants to invest in his company. I get some of the profits for my charities, and we make each other look good.” I frown at the empty glass in my hand and contemplate fixing another.

Peggy sets down her unfinished drink and looks at me. She has a way of effortlessly shifting her gaze from disapproving to comforting in a second. I never know if I’m going to be talking to the “unrelenting founder of S.H.I.E.LD.” Peggy or the “let’s go shopping and day-drinking” Peggy.

“I’m sure there’s a man out there that complements you and makes you feel good. You just-”

“-haven’t found him yet,” I finish her sentence. I’ve heard it from everyone – my parents, coworkers, strangers who learn I’m 23 and still unwed. 24, I remind myself; my birthday was on the fifth, less than two weeks ago. I feel the effects of the whiskey settling in, my eyes growing heavy and my weight shifting to my stomach. “You’re lucky to have experienced two great loves.”

“Daniel is far from a true love, hence why I stay with you the majority of the week. I’m also fourteen years older than you and have had more time to find them. I was 24 when I met Steve; there’s still plenty of time.”

“There doesn’t seem to be many men like Steve left.”

-

Peggy was gone without a word the next morning, and I am left alone with a pounding headache. By the time I wake, its well past noon on Saturday, and the mail’s already been delivered under the door.

I rifle through the envelopes once my toast is done, the coffee pot almost full, and the majority of the mail is addressed to Obadiah. Bills and letters of interest from inventors that I’m supposed to forward to him in DC. There’s a letter addressed to me in his precise, meticulous handwriting, but the one that interests me most is from Roxxon Oil Company, a large, thick packet with “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across it. Naturally, I open it.

Maybe it’s the lingering hangover or the knowledge that Obie would forgive me for anything under the sun, but I rip open the envelope as I sip on my morning coffee, pouring all its contents out on to the table.

Most of the information doesn’t interest me, talking about drill efficiency and rigs and pipelines, until I find the balance sheet and investing information. I did get my master’s in accounting, as Obie tends to forget as he relegates me to a trophy wife. As I drift back into sobriety, the pieces start falling into place. Roxxon isn’t investing in Stane International; Stane is investing in Roxxon, and they were already profiting, working together, inventing together. The copies of the blueprints are of Obie’s design, seeking to create clean energy to replace gasoline down the road. In the last two years, Obadiah has made hundreds of thousands of dollars, with deposits and withdrawals from countless accounts, and reinvesting it, the paper trail deliberately as confusing as possible. I’d call it embezzlement if it weren’t his own company.

I get a scratch piece of paper and start doing the math. It isn’t adding up. Nothing is adding up, the dates and locations, let alone the cash, with several documents addressed from Russia. I sit up, my heart in my throat, pulsing so hard it feels like the world around me was shaking.

Obadiah is not a sneaky man by nature. I knew that he was interested in me before he realized it; I knew when he was going to ask me to go steady with him; I know when he is on the brink of a great new idea. He tries his best to hide things, but every move of his body betrays him. I’ve caught him sticking things in the back of his closet and under his bed more times than I could count, and I’ve never had the opportunity to check with him there. But seeing as he’s away…

Kneeling, I fumble underneath the bed frame until my fingers find purchase on a briefcase, and I slide it out. I wrestle with the knobs until I realize there’s a four-digit code keeping it locked. Before I mess with the dials, I notice the number. 0213.

“Oh, Obie. Do you have to be so predictable?” February 13th was our first date; he chose the day before Valentine’s Day because he believed the holiday of romance should be reserved for people already together, and he made a spectacle on 14th because we were together at that point, by his logic.

The top of the briefcase pops open at my touch, and inside I find numerous telegram slips, copies of both those sent and received. I sift through them quickly, none of them really catching my eye, filled with code words that I didn’t have the motivation to try to decipher. One of them caught my eye, and this is one of the only times Obie’s over-organization paid off because the telegrams were in chronological order.

RECEIVED

September 21, 1957

To: Stane, O.

O., I am glad to hear you secured the trust-fund. Let me know what day you’ll tie the knot, and I’ll tell you where to wire the funds. I might just send you a gift to celebrate.

NEFARIA, G.

SENT

September 28, 1957

To: Nefaria, G.

I’ll be traveling for work extensively the next four months. Please send files to Location 2. She can’t know anything.

STANE, O.

RECEIVED

September 30, 1957

To: Stane, O.

O., safe travels. Remember the end goal – the reactor that threatens our future. It cannot be manufactured by anyone but us, for our sake.

NEFARIA, G.

Prior, my heart had felt like it was running a mile a minute; now, it feels still in my chest. Dead in the water, like a stunned minnow tossed in to attract larger fish. “The trust fund.”

I had been courted before for my parents’ wealth. In college, a boy had pursued me relentlessly. He made me feel beautiful, special, and like the only star in his sky. He had convinced me that love was this roller-coaster rush of emotions, one collision after the other, until his dormmate clued me in on his intentions. That’s why I try to keep Obie in the dark about what I’ll inherit, how big my trust-fund really is. Growing up, I was unaware of how good we had it; all my friends in boarding school were from the same social and financial class, we all vacationed at the same spots and shopped at the same boutiques. It took a lot of eye-opening experiences at university for me to realize life was different for others, and it honed my ability to detect insincere motives. Too little, too late, but I won’t let it happen again.

With shaking hands, I put the papers back in their order, and I snap the briefcase closed, pushing it back under the bed with a force. I return to the kitchen table where I had spread the other documents out, collect them, and place them back as they were. I’m not sure if I need to try to seal it to make it look unopened, or if I should destroy the whole thing. He hadn’t asked me about forwarding this one specifically, so he might not be expecting it. Under the documents, I find the letter addressed to me again. Obie’s handwriting hits me differently now. How well do I actually know the sender?

Mar- (God, I hate it when he calls me Mar.)

I am writing to you with success here in Washington DC. We have made valiant efforts with the war. We expect Vietnam to concede soon. Our troops are vigilant and the best America has to offer, and their farmers pose no threat to us or the hope of victory. I expect to return home to you Friday the 15th of November. I’m sorry, darling, that I missed your birthday, but perhaps I can make it up to you.

See you soon at home,

Your Obie

Friday. Today was Friday.

The living room was a mess. Peggy’s and my drinks and dinner dishes scatter the room, the mail on the table, and I look equally disheveled. I know Obie would be disappointed, as the apartment is always speckless when he’s here.

I am a flurry around the house, collecting garbage in the bin and dishes in the sink. I tie the heaping garbage bag and leave it by the door, and rush to check my appearance in the bathroom. A scarf around my hairline will make the windswept, frenzied style look intention, and I change into a simple blue sundress. Obie didn’t have a dishwasher, so I put an apron on to protect my dress from the dishwater.

As I was setting the last glass out to dry, a knock resounded from the front door. I could feel it reverberate in my chest, and my heartbeat pulsed in every finger in my hand. Shaking, I set the glass down, wiped the water off my hands, preparing myself to smile and wine-and-dine the man I’ve already committed myself to.

[charbax]

In The Woods Somewhere

The aftermath of a hunt, and a bond forged in the dark. A Striktor mythical au inspired by Speck’s posts here and here. 

A/N: I wrote this two years ago, forgot about it, then dusted it off and decided to finish it just in time for halloween!! Gosh I miss writing these two. 

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

AO3 link here!

-

The thirst was the first thing Strix was aware of - it ached in his throat and stomach, carving out something hollow. His tongue darted out and licked dry lips, and he swallowed, trying to wet his mouth. 

The next thing he was aware of was the barn ceiling above him. Strange. He usually didn't rest in buildings so close to people-   The thought sent a bolt of fear through his heart. He sat up suddenly, then regretted the action immediately afterwards when his head spun. A hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him. "Hey, easy there." A familiar voice said. Instantly, Strix's guard lowered, if only by a minuscule amount.   Something pressed against his lips. "It's not blood." Viktor explained. "Just water, drink it slowly." Strix accepted it nonetheless, placing a hand over Viktor's to control the slow trickle of liquid. It wasn't enough to fully alleviate his thirst, but at least the ache subsided to something manageable, something he could think past.     Once he was done, he asked, "Where?"   "The barn just outside of town. You passed out after we drove the knife into the monster. I carried you here. Well, I wanted to bring you to a real bed but," Viktor frowned. "Apparently killing a monster and saving their children wasn't enough for a decent room. The economy is in shambles." He emphasised the last part with a weak grin. Strix snorted in amusement. Viktor continued. "How're you holding up?"   Strix's whole body ached, and had him wishing he was asleep again, but he soldiered on. "Tired, mostly."   "Want some alone time so you can sleep?"   "...not really." Strix admitted. He leaned back, holding the cup in his lap. "I want to know what happened when I was asleep."   And so Viktor told him - after he had passed out, Viktor carried him all way out of the winding caves and back to town, where they had been greeted warmly by the townspeople, who were holding torches, and pitchforks ("I'm being sarcastic," Viktor clarified with an exaggerated whisper). According to the them, they recognised a vampire when they saw an unconscious one, and had prepared if Viktor was underneath its thrall. Luckily, the head of the monster was proof enough to convince that they were harmless, but even so, the townfolk were suspicious of the vampire, the one responsible for the disappearances of the children.   "After that, I headed back to your home, where the children were." Viktor raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry. It was the only way to convince people not to burn you while they had a chance. After all, kidnapping's still kidnapping, even if it was to keep them safe."   Strix winced as he looked at his lap, but didn't deny it. A hand covered his own. "Hey." Viktor continued. "Once they saw their children safe, they warmed up pretty fast. The village leader just wants to talk to you."   "...alright." Strix said.   "Right. Be right back." Viktor got up and ducked outside. Strix spent the next few minutes sipping his water and thinking about slipping out of the window while he had the chance. But Viktor's face flashed in his mind. So he only nervously tapped his fingers against the cup and waited.   A while later, Viktor returned with the elder in tow. Straightened up, trying to keep his face blank and non-threatening, as if he was just another person and not a creature of the night.     "Hello." The elder greeted. At least he wasn't carrying a pitchfork, small blessings. "I believe you were the one who stole the babes from their cribs."   For the second time in a short period, Strix avoided the gazes in the room. He looked into his cup and tried not to let shame rise hot to his cheeks.   "But you kept them safe from the true monster, so I suppose that explains it." The elder continued.     "I wasn't going to keep them forever." Strix began. "Until it moved on. My strength is nothing against the monster's own."   "That answered my next question. Was that why you did not go after it yourself?"   "My presence cloaked the kids. If I died trying to kill it, then it would come after them."   The elder stared at him, impassively, his face giving nothing away. Strix tried not to squirm underneath the slightly narrowed eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor cross his arms and subtly inch closer to Strix. How relieving it was, to have someone like Viktor on his side, Strix supposed. Finally, the village head nodded, seemingly placated. "I understand. You may rest here for a three days as thanks, then take your leave. The others were already fearful of the monster. Do not make them fearful of the child-taker as well.”   Strix nodded mutely. The elder gave one more stern look, then took his leave. Viktor turned to him with a grin. "See? Nothing to be worried about." He said.   Strix grunted, agreement or disagreement, discretion to the listener. He leaned back onto his makeshift bed - a cloth over some hay, now that he could feel it scratch underneath him - and closed his eyes. "You have plans after this?" He asks, chest lighter now that the main threat was gone.   "No idea. Probably head east, to the coast. Then who knows?"   Strix hummed thoughtfully. Of course. Viktor seemed the type to be a roamer, no home, no past to weigh him down, a lone wolf borne of man. After all, that's how they met – on a job. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what Strix was trying to himself since they’ve entered that cave.   Seemingly having nothing else to add, Viktor leaned back into his chair and gazed out the window. And since Strix had seemingly nothing else to reply, he let comfortable silence fall over them. Strix continued watching Strix, and wondered what jobs would await Viktor.   It didn’t occur to him to think about what he himself was going to do next, save for the immediate need to leave the village as soon as possible.     -   After all that, Viktor got paid the tidy sum he was contracted for, no more, no less, and that’s how he liked it. He also gets the admiration of the local teens who dream of escaping their little village. That part he’s less pleased with. This isn’t the type of job he’d recommend as a future career – the pay wasn’t constant, the transit depends if he has a horse or not, and not to mention the life-threatening danger of the work is enough to deter mostly anyone with common sense. There’s a reason why there’s not many monster hunters in the first place.   Still, he hung around. No reason not too. The money is more than enough to fund his next job, and it’s rare he has some downtime to just enjoy the place, even if it’s just a small town in the middle of nowhere. It gives him more time to actually hang out with one of the less annoying - but just as persistent – village youths.   Said youth was leaning back on the tree contently, twirling a small knife as she watched Viktor. “So you really ain’t gonna take me?” Kinessa said with a touch of forlornness.     “Told you already kid. This kind of work ain’t for nice young’uns like you-”   “Oh yeah? Can a kid do this?” With that, she twirled her knife around one last time then threw it at the opposite tree trunk. It landed with a solid thunk! She grinned at him as he shook his head.     “Don’t remember teaching you that one.”   “Yeah, got it from-” Kinessa stopped suddenly, her eyes darting fervently. Viktor too glanced around, but the only things listening were the trees and the gentle wind of autumn. They relaxed. “Got it from Strix. It’s one of the few things he taught me while we were staying at his place. Y’know, it wasn’t that bad being looked after him, apart from the cabin fever. He certainly made sure everyone was fed.”   Viktor didn’t really know much about what Strix did when he was hiding the children. He only remembered seeing those wide eyes staring at him in fear. He could still recall seeing the openly scared kids huddling behind the sniper’s outstretched arm like a brood to a mother bird. It was only when Viktor lowered the rifle to the floor and raise his hands did Strix take his finger off the trigger.     He was shaken from his memories when Kinessa spoke again. “Wonder what’s he doing right now.”’   Yes, Viktor was thinking the same thing – he hadn’t heard hide nor feather from Strix even since then. He was like a ghost of the village, where everyone did their best not to acknowledge that the so-called ‘terror of the night’ was, in fact, a very nice cryptid who just wanted to live in peace.   Which the villagers granted him a lot, yes, but only in the physical sense. Reputation wise, it hadn’t changed that much from before, as Kinessa had been telling him. They just also added kidnapper to his extensive repertoire. Which, in Viktor’ opinion, was less than what Strix truly deserved.   Viktor’s gaze fell on the woods, and he wondered.   –   It’s much easier to navigate the deer paths now, in the daylight, rather than the middle of the dark on a morbid mission. The twisting paths are no match for years of hunting experience, so it takes an almost laughably short time to reach Strix’s cottage. Two visits in two weeks, someone’s becoming popular.     Bet he’s gonna shock Strix out of...whatever Strixes do with free time and no children to guard. When he knocked on the front door, he had to wait until the door inched open, revealing a pair of amber eyes that were narrowed in suspicion before they widened.   “Viktor?”   “The one and only. Can I come in?”   Strix wordlessly opened the door and let Viktor step into the hideout. He’s still staring at him. Viktor grinned. “Shocking right? I’m capable of knocking on the front door instead of smashing it in during the middle of the night.”     The right side of Strix’s mouth twitched. A smile? “What are you doing here?”   “You invited me in?”   “I mean,” Strix’s smile deepened. “I thought you would have left the village by now.”   “Well that was the plan. I can tell you all about it if you want.”

Strix blinked, then nodded. Viktor sank down onto one of the chairs. Strix still hovered by the door. “Do you want to take a seat?"

"That's my line, but I supposed you already answered." Strix said, shaking his head ever so slightly, but he sat down on the other free seat.

Viktor looked around the room, taking note of the cleanliness now there was an absence of missing children. He did, however, note the various wilted flowercrowns and small toys lining the mantle of the fireplace. Something was bubbling away in it, smelling absolutely delicious. "Gifts from the kids?" Viktor asked, nodding to the fireplace.

"Not really. I would go to return them but," Strix paused. "I feel I'm not welcomed at the village. They need time to recover."

Really, in Viktor's humble opinion, the villagers should be showering Strix in gratitude and gold for slaying the beast, but that's him. Strix's voice broke his silent grumblings.

"I doubt that you're here to check on my well-being. What brings you?"

Viktor scratched the back of his head. "Actually, that's exactly what I was doing." Strix blinked at him. Viktor fidgeted self-consciously. "What, never had someone check up on you?"

Strix shook his head, wide-eyed, like an owl.

"Huh." Viktor said intelligently. He leaned back, one arm hung over the back of the seat. "Thought you and that kid, Kinessa..."

"It's for the best she doesn't." Came the terse reply.

Viktor didn't respond to that. Strix continued staring at a spot on the patched wall. "She still thinks of you." Viktor continued.

"I'd rather not talk about this now."

Viktor relented, willing to let it go for now, then grinned as he recalled an earlier misadventure. "Want to hear about how I managed to sneak my way into something called the Thousand Hand guild and stole the leader's sword?"

The troubled look cleared away with a smile, like sunlight parting through stormy clouds.

-

"...and then that was when I realised, the knight was rescuing the dragon, not the damsel!"

Mirth lit the planes of Strix's planes, warm as the glow from the firelight as it cast dancing shadows over the both of them. Viktor didn't even realise it was nightfall until he was studying the planes of Strix's face in the semi-darkness, how it sharpened and softened it all at once. Supper was a long gone memory, and the mulled wine was sitting heavy and pleasant in his gut. He hadn't had enough to be truly drunk, no, but it was sharing a secret every time he sipped and caught Strix's eye.

Strix had loosened up, as loose as a creature of the night can truly be while looking over their shoulder - he was noticeably more slouched, trying his best to melt into the furs, or into Viktor's side of the bench. Sometime in the evening, Viktor had moved from sitting opposite of Strix to next to him, a warm presence in the dark of the room. "I mean," Strix smirked. "He was wearing a helmet. Maybe he didn't see."

"Nah, he definitely saw. If he didn't, he would've definitely felt when he hefted the scaly son of a bastard onto his shoulder and took off!"

Strix wasn't being silent all the time though. He occasionally spoke up, to put in a wry comment or a interesting fact about some of the monsters Viktor faced, and Viktor found himself nodding along the more Strix spoke. Or maybe he was nodding off because of the warmth from the fire, or the sudden shock of heat to his gut when Strix's eyes flicked to his own.

"Hey, Strix." Viktor said. "Doesn't it get lonely out here?"

Strix's eyes glowed amber in the firelight as he answered, "Sometimes."

Viktor's throat clicked as he swallowed, and he summoned all the courage he had, even more than facing the child-eating monster, to lay a hand on Strix's knee. Warmth shot up his arm and pooled in his stomach. "You don't have to be. Not tonight." He leaned closer to Strix, closer to the intoxicating scent of forest and the night and just him. Still, he hovered just over Strix’s lips, with enough distance for Strix to pull away, in case Viktor had read all the signs wrong.

He didn't. Strix closed the distance with a surge.

Then Viktor didn’t have to worry afterwards.

-

"They still want me dead, y'know." Strix murmured from his position on Viktor's chest.

Viktor made a rumbling noise of question, eyes closed, too blissed out to properly answer. He felt Strix stroke his jaw with careful fingers. "And you, by association."

Viktor peeked open one eye open at Strix. "Didn't we just save the livelihood of their village?"

"Yes. Also risked your neck for the town's 'ghost monster'." Strix continued, even when Viktor opened both his eyes to frown at him. "Their willful ignorance won't last long. Sooner or later they'll try to run you out for standing up for me. They still blame me for attracting the beast to them."

Viktor propped himself up on one elbow, carefully maneuvering Strix to look at him in the eyes. "Bullshit. You saved their children. They still believe you're still bad?"

"They're fearful of what they don't know."

Strix's face looked forlorn that Viktor reached down to kiss it off and smooth out the frown. Strix definitely looked a lot more calmer once Viktor pulled away, but there was still a concerned wrinkle in his brow. "You should leave this place while you still can."

"Or what, they'll re-fetch the pitchforks and run me out of town?"

Strix gave him a blank look, and Viktor realised that yes, Strix really did mean that.

"Huh."

Maybe Strix had a point. It was high time he moved on anyway, places to visit, people to see, monsters to hunt. "What about you, though? Will you be alright?"

"I had the moniker 'Ghost Feather' for a reason. I know how to disappear when I need to."

'But you shouldn't have to hide,'  Viktor thought, 'You shouldn't have to fear for your life, when you take place in this world too.'

He kept his mouth though, and wondered again.

-

"This is goodbye, isn't it." Strix said.

Viktor hummed in agreement. They stood in front of Strix's cottage, next to the sprawling wildflowers and untamed grass. Even the sun was shining, ignorant of the ache in Strix's chest as he looked over his home.

"Didn't think I would make good memories here. You proved me wrong." Strix came closer to Viktor and clasped his hand with appreciation. "I'll surely remember this. Even when this house rots to the earth."

Viktor smiled at that. "m'glad then." He grasped the back of Strix’s neck and pulled down, tipping his head so he could touch his forehead with Strix’s own, trying to postpone the inevitable. Strix opened his mouth.

"Viktor, I-"

There was the sound of a door being slammed open. "Would you two lovebirds hurry up?" Kinessa called as she hurried up the dirt path, rucksack secure on her shoulder. "Daylight's burning and I want to see the citadel before sunset."

Strix sighed, a warm breath of affection and annoyance. Viktor said, "Hey, you wanted to being the kid along, that makes her your protégé."

The side of Strix's mouth ticked upwards. "And you?"

"...that makes me yours too. Whatever of me you’ll want, it's yours.”

They both steadfastly ignored the retching noises Kinessa was making behind their backs. Viktor took Strix's hand and grinned at him.  "Ready?"

Strix smiled back, brighter than any gold. "Yes."

And together, they stepped out into the sunlight.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: What Comes After ‘And’ Pairing:  Kacchako Rating: T Word Count: 2,115, Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Bakugou discusses his future with Ochako with their pet cat, Murder Mittens.

For Superevey’s birthday! Full fic under the cut

"Don't give me that look," Bakugou growled, turning to meet the creature's eyes. "She's gonna fucking love it and don't you try to tell me otherwise." He let out a long huff, slamming the tray into the oven.

"Meow." The soft sound echoed through the kitchen and Bakugou turned to stare at the cat. Her bright green eyes blinked slowly, as if they were teasing him.

"Don't," he warned, thrusting his finger towards her face. "I know what this is about. You're comfortable here and you don't want to leave this place. I fuckin' get it, but this going to be better."

"Meow," she chirped and this time moved towards his finger, rubbing her cheek against his hand.

Gritting his teeth, Bakugou bit down on his lip and opened his palm. "You're lucky you're a cute shit, MM," he groaned, running his hand over the top of Murder Mitten's head. (Her name was Mimi but he refused to call her that). "You're trying to be all nice right now, but I know what you're trying to do. I'm giving her the key tonight."

Mittens sat back and lifted her paw, licking her tongue over it before staring again.

"No," Bakugou said, swinging his hand back and forth. "She's going to love it. I'm not fucking nervous."

He stared at the small box next to Murder Mittens. Inside was a small silver key, one that opened the door to their new house. It hadn't been an easy feat to accomplish on his own, but he had finished almost all of the paperwork.

"You'll get used to the new place too," he grumbled. He hoped Ochako would like it too.

He turned off the rice cooker, pulling out scoops of rice to set up the rice balls for their meal. He had left his agency early to come home and get dinner ready. It was a recipe for success. She always adored his cooking and it was a surefire way to put her in a good mood when he gave her the key.

He stared at Mittens while she sat on their table. She was so big now, her stupid, fluffy orange tail flicked up and down off the side of the table. He could remember how she fit in the palm of his hand. Now he had to scoop her up in his arms to hold her. Normally he wouldn't let her up on the table, but admittedly, he'd gotten lost in their conversation.

"Meow," Mittens purred, standing up to walk around herself and then sit back down. She licked at her chest, not looking at Bakugou any longer.

Rolling his eyes, he leaned against the oven, waiting for the meat. "You don't have to tell me that, I know how she is about money."

Ochako was so frugal even though they had money. He knew it was due to how she had been raised. It wasn't that his parents were frivolous, but he grew up with more money than her. Still, they made a great deal of money now and Bakugou was tired of renting the small apartment.

He began to set out the plates, stopping to pet Mittens as he picked her up and moved her off the table. She meowed again, curling around his legs as she rubbed her face against his pants.

"I mean we're fucking engaged! Married couples live in damn houses," he snapped, slamming down the small basket of rice balls onto the table. He had asked Ochako to marry him one night under the stars. They'd hiked up the tallest hill and he finally asked. After living together for over two years, it felt like the right step. Now this house thing was the next one.

He stirred the sauce for the curry and popped to the fridge to check on the mochi he had frozen for dessert. Ochako's favorite; the best way to finish the night.

Mittens sat in the middle of the kitchen, staring up at him. "You can't be on her side for this," Bakugou hissed. Mittens let out a yawn and Bakugou rolled his eyes, slamming the fridge shut.

"It's a fuckin' house. It's gonna help when we have the damn wedding and..." he trailed off, unsure of what came after that 'and'.

"Katsuki?! Are you cooking?" Ochako's voice echoed in the front hallway as she turned the key to their apartment.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing, Cheeks?" he yelled back, running to the table to grab the small box with the key. He didn't want her asking questions about it right away.

She slipped off her shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, she leaned down to pet Mitten's head. "I dunno," she giggled, "probably doing that thing where you talk to Mimi."

"Call her by her actual name!" he said, setting the curry sauce down on the table.

Ochako giggled and scratched under Mittens chin. "Mimi doesn't mind her nickname."

"Yes she does! Mimi doesn't sound as badass," Bakugou said, carrying his plates over to the table.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, slipping her scarf off to hang on the hooks in the hallway. "You don't normally leave work early on Wednesdays."

Dammit, why the hell was she so perceptive. "It's nothing." He made his way around the table and pulled the chair out, gesturing for her to sit.

She slowly sank down, pulling herself closer to the table. "I don't believe you," she said, tapping all but her pinky finger against the table.

"Hah?! What do you mean you don't believe me?!" He yanked his own chair out and took a seat with her.

Ochako sighed, leaning forward. She lifted her hands to her chin, rolling her head back and forth. His eyes fell on the ring glistening on her finger. He loved that damn thing, the perfect reminder she was his and he was hers. There was a part of him he liked to bury deep down inside, that was so damn thrilled to be getting matching wedding bands.

She looked at Bakugou with her soft brown eyes, and round pink cheeks and fuck, he was so damn weak for her. "Katsuki," she purred, like she was the damn cat. "Be honest. At this point it's always really obvious to me when you're lying."

He sighed, rolling his head back. "The food is going to get fucking cold if you don't eat it now."

Pursing her lips, she smacked them together. He wanted to lean forward and press his lips against hers, but he hoped that sort of thing would come later. If this damn house thing went well...

"Meow!" Mittens cried out, rubbing herself on Bakugou's legs. She walked between him under the table.

"See? Even Mimi says you should just tell me," Ochako giggled. She leaned to the side, wiggling her fingers for the cat, her brown hair brushing against her cheek.

"You wanna know so bad?!" he snarled. He shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out the tiny box, slamming it down on the table in front of him.

She frowned, sitting back up, even as Mittens meowed in protest, wanting more attention. "Katsuki," she whispered, "what is this?" Her eyes glanced to the ring on her finger in confusion.

He clicked his tongue and waved his hand. "Just open it. You wanted to know so damn bad."

Ochako laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, and I can tell you're happy. I'm sure you were being impatient about whatever this is."Her fingers curled around the box and she lifted it up, staring at the silver key in front of her eyes. "Katsuki... it's a key...?" she asked, her chocolate eyes meeting his.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. He hoped she would figure it out, but knowing her oblivious ass, he was going to have to spell it out for her.

"What's... what's it for?"

He knew it.

"Meow!" Mittens purred, nuzzling against Ochako's legs.

She reached down and scooped up the orange cat. "Maybe Mimi can tell me what it is?" The little fur ball leaned forward and sniffed at the silver metal.

"It's a goddamn key."

"I know that," Ochako snorted, letting Mittens back down to the ground. "But what is it for, hm?" She hummed and trailed her finger over the grooved edge.

She was doing it on purpose. He could tell in the way her voice lilted with each word, her finger tracing over the metal. He slammed his hands down against the table. "It's... a key to a house. Our house. If you want it..." he grumbled.

"Katsuki... you didn't-"

"I fucking did!" he said, cutting her off. "Look, I know how weird you are about money Cheeks, but I used my private funds I've been saving for a while. All our shit is still there. We're about to get married and I think it would be good for us to have our own damn place. Plus, I already asked Murder Mittens and she thinks it's a great idea."

The orange cat took a seat in the middle of the kitchen, her tail curling around herself.

Ochako bit down on her lip. She looked at the key, her eyes trembling with tears threatening to fall. "I-I..."

"C'mon Cheeks, don't cry about it..." Bakugou muttered.

"I love it!" she said, jumping out of her chair. She ran around the table and hugged him. "I haven't even seen it and I know I'll love it, but..." She sat up, looking down at the cat, a smirk on her lips. "I highly doubt Mimi agreed to move. She loves this place."

Bakugou sighed. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. "Alright, she might take some convincing," he growled.

She gasped, jumping off of him. "Let's go look at it right now!" She tugged on his hand, clearly excited about the prospect of their new place. "We're probably going to need so much furniture. Maybe we should get that new bed? How many bedrooms does it have? Ah! I wish I had been with you to pick it out- I-I mean I'm sure you picked something amazing!"

Bakugou squeezed her hand, pulling her back toward him. "One thing at a time, Cheeks." He leaned up to press their lips together. "Let's eat dinner first... and it has three bedrooms. I didn't know if you'd be into the idea so I wanted to surprise you, dammit!"

"Three?!" she gasped, and sat frozen on his lap. "Well... I'm definitely surprised. What... made you do this?"

"We're going to be married and..." He trailed off. There was that 'and' again. Despite their engagement, they hadn't talked much about their future. Of course, they would be together, but they were both so damn focused on their careers, Bakugou didn't even want to suggest...

"You thought... it might be better to have a bigger house. Just... in case?" She asked softly, pressing her forehead to his. His fingertips trailed up her back, touching over every vertebrae.

"Yeah..." he paused, and pulled back, his cheeks flushed. "Mittens needs more places to explore."

Ochako smiled. Bringing her hands to his cheeks, she cupped his face, and pulled their lips together. "Of course she does, your little princess."

"I like the idea of having more space... to do what we fucking please." Whether that meant making additional rooms or expanding their family, Bakugou wasn't ready to say it yet. He didn't want to pressure Ochako. Being heroes had always been their number one priority, but a house was a good step toward their future together.

"I like that too," she said, and kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip. "I can't believe you bought us a house."

"Tch, yeah. 'Course I did. I'd do anything for you Cheeks," he said, pecking her lips once more.

"I know you would. Me and Mittens are so lucky," she giggled, her stomach rumbling. "I guess we should eat before it gets cold..."

"Yeah, I spent a long time on this damn meal!" he snapped, but still pulled her down for one more kiss, not letting her go back to her seat.

"Alright, alright. After we eat we can go look at the new place!" She sighed against his lips. "It feels so strange to say that!" She clutched the key to her chest, holding it close to his heart.

"I guess we'll just have to get used to it," he hummed.

"Meow!" Mittens cried out walking close to their chairs.

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugou snorted, rolling his eyes. "Even you will get used to it."

The way he saw it, changing things for their future was always for the best.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 21

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

“Hi mommy!” Millie cheerfully greets, as Esme journeys towards where her daughter sits on the shoreline, clad in one of her many bathing suits, head and most of her face covered by an oversized floppy sunhat. She’s the happiest when by –or right in- the water; calm and relaxed, that edge she always seems to carry softened and almost nonexistent.  

The ocean is a powerful antidote for all that ails you. Even Esme finds  that the mere sound of the waves and the smell of the salt that hangs in the air helps in easing the burden of the stress and worries that she often carries. And as beautiful as they are and how majestic the view from her back deck had been, that’s a feat even the mountains had never been able to accomplish.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, as she crouches down beside Millie, the little girl turning her face up for a kiss.

“Just stuff,” Millie replies, and turns a bucket of wet sand upside, adding it to the ‘castle’ that she’s already constructed. “Daddy said to stay here and not to go in the water without him.”

“And you actually listened? I’m impressed.”

“Well I don’t want a shark to eat me,” Millie explains, using the back of her sand covered hand to push wayward strands of hair out of her face.   “Daddy said that sharks like little girls with blue eyes and light brown hair the best. ‘Cause we taste like watermelon and that’s their favorite.”

Her mother smirks. “And you actually believed him?”

“Oh course! Daddy wouldn’t lie. And I’m not taking any chances. I do not want to get eaten by a shark.”

Esme glances over her shoulder, to where her husband is flat on his back, sprawled out in the middle of blanket; arms loose and relaxed at his sides, sunglasses on. “Is he dead?”

“God, I hope not,” Mille moans. “’Cause he’s the good cook and I’m getting hungry.” She wipes the sand from her palms onto her thighs, then cautiously lifts the edge of the receiving blanket that protects her baby sister –laying along her mother’s arm- from the brilliant sunshine.  “Hi Addie,” she presses a kiss to one tiny foot, followed by the other, then fixes the blanket.  “She’s awake. I think she smiled at me.”

“Well she likes you. You’re her big sister. You’re the one that used to talk to her and read her stories all the time when she was still in my belly. She probably recognizes your voice.”

“I hope so. And I hope she knows I’m not annoying like the other ones.”

“Your brothers are not THAT bad.”

“Oh, yes they are, mommy. I mean, I’d miss them if they weren’t here anymore. But they’re little assholes.”

“Amelia...”

“I know,” she sighs dramatically. “Bad language. I’m trying. I really am. It’s so hard though!”

“Especially when you’re around your dad as much as you are and he  has absolutely zero filter left.”

“He is totally a bad influence,” Millie agrees. “We had fun today. We went shopping and had ice cream and daddy made me buy him two blue Gatorades at the dollar store ‘cause we ended up being in there forty minutes instead of twenty. But I had to get glitter and paper so...” she shrugs. “He’s going to help me make birthday invitations.”

“He actually agreed to that?”

“Yup,” she sounds so much like her father, even with that one simple word. “He’ll do anything I want. Anything.”

“Except wear the tiara.”

“Oh, it’ll happen. He will wear the tiara. And I’m going to take a picture when he does and you’re going to put it on your Instagram.”

“I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“Oh well. He put the video of you up when you were sleeping and he gave you the wet willy.”

“That’s right. He did.”

“It’s only fair, mommy. He did you dirty. Now you have to do the same to him. I think you deserve revenge.”

“You know what I think?” Esme reaches under the hat to tuck hair behind Millie’s ears. “I think you’re an evil genius.”

“I don’t know if I’m evil, but I’m definitely a genius. You know,” she appears pensive for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I must be adopted.”

Esme laughs. “You’re a little savage.”

“I learn from the best,” Millie declares, then frowns as she notices her mother’s choice in foot apparel.  “Mommy, what the hell? Why are you wearing socks on the beach?”

“I don’t like the sand between my toes. You know that.”

“That is just weird.”

“I swear, if you start sounding or acting any more like your father...”

“I’m sorry. His DNA was stronger. It’s not my fault. It’s why I’m so awesome.”

“You definitely need to stop listening to him so much,” she lifts the brim of the hat and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up and wandering over to where her husband lies. “Are you alive?” she asks, digging her toes into his side, right between two of his ribs. “You better be because I haven’t gotten the chance to renew your life insurance policy yet.”

“What you would you get?” he responds. “Twenty bucks?”

“Twenty bucks?” she scoffs and settles down on the blanket besides him; placing Addie on his chest and stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s generous. That’s ten more than what they offered.”

Tyler smirks. “Well one thing’s for sure. I can at least die knowing you didn’t marry me for money.”

“We had like what? A few hundred bucks between the both of us when you got out of the hospital? It’s safe to say neither of us were in it for financial gain.”

It had been incredibly easy to blow through nearly every cent either of them had in the bank, including whatever had been sitting in savings.  The first two weeks after Dhaka had been spent in a hospital in Mumbai, and Nik had refused to cough up the money to even cover a small part of the bill, citing that she couldn’t access private funds within the company, and there simply wasn’t anything left from the first and only payment they’d received from Mahajan Senior. In the end, neither Tyler nor Esme had received a penny from the Dhaka job, adding insult to grievous injury. Even transport to Australia had to be paid for out of pocket, and it had wiped out both of their checking accounts.  

Their start to their new life had been rough; a new apartment with barely any furniture in it, two months of inpatient therapy with only weekend visits home allowed, a baby on the way.  All while still trying to get to know each other outside of those five days in the dirty hotel room in Dhaka. But they’d gotten through it; every fight brought on by frustration, disappointment, and pain. Every harsh word spoken out of guilt and regret. Every time they didn’t know how they’d be able to put food on the table or properly take care of a baby once she arrived. But things slowly started getting better. Her old boss had contacted her saying she was owed a large chunk of money for previous work she’d done for him, even though she’d known full well it was just generous gift on his behalf. Then a check had come in the mail from Saju’s wife. Enough to cover six months' worth of rent and still have some left over. They’d never found out how she even knew who they were, let alone how she tracked them down.  

To this day, they’ve never actually spoken or met face to face. But once every three months an email arrives from Neysa, complete with pictures of her now teenage boy and an update on how they’re doing. No mentions of whereabouts; even behind bars, Mahajan Senior has a lot of pull in not just Mumbai, but all of India. His influences stretch far and wide, and almost seven years later, Saju’s inability to get Ovi away from Tyler and his eventual death is still viewed as a catastrophic failure.  It didn’t matter that his son had been rescued from Asif or brought home safely. Or that lives had been lost and others altered forever. Even Tyler, despite stepping up and giving Ovi a relatively normal life and the family that he both wanted and deserved, is regarded as an enemy. He was the one that stood in Saju’s way, after all, and more than once through the years Mahajan Senior has commented: “you don’t know how to die, do you”.  

****

“I think if we got through that first year intact, we can get through anything,” Esme comments.  

“That was a pretty shitty twelve months,” Tyler agrees, as he lays his palm on Addie’s back and wraps an arm around his wife’s waist, hand coming to rest on her hip. “There was some good stuff too. I mean, we got married and had Millie. But for the most part...”

“It was pure crap,” she finishes for him, and he nods. “But now look!” she cheerfully exclaims. “If anyone had have told you back then that this is where we’d be now, would you have believed them? That we would have gotten this far? Everyone was against us. Everyone. Nik, most of my family. And we’re the ones getting the last laugh. We’re the ones that are still together while their lives are shit. Is it wrong how happy that actually makes me? That we get to sit back and watch their lives fall apart?”

“Maybe a little bit wrong,” he says with a grin. “But I get it. There’s someone I wish was still here so I could rub it in their face.”

“Gaspar?”

He nods.  

“He did not like me for some reason. Kept calling me ‘that girl’ or ‘the girl’ even when I was in the room. What was up with that? I mean, other than the fact he was a complete sociopath.”

Tyler shrugs. “He was just protective I guess.”  

He doesn’t want to talk about it; Gaspar, the ten million dollars offer to give up her and Ovi. It still haunts him; how calm and callous the other man had been about the whole thing. As if it wasn’t two human beings that he was willing to sacrifice for the almighty dollar.  And he knows he’ll never tell her. The whole truth behind what had happened that night. What good would it do? Telling her that she’d come dangerously close to being thrown at Asif’s feet. The outcome would have been horrific; rape, torture, unbelievable abuse and cruelty. It’s bad enough that those thoughts still plague him. She doesn’t need them weighing her down.  And he’s thankful when she changes the subject.

“She wore you out, didn’t she,” Esme comments, a hand over her eyes; sheltering them from the sun as she watches Millie happily playing in the surf.

“She’s like having ten kids rolled into one. I’m starting to understand why her teacher is so tired at the end of the day. Millie plus twenty others?”

“Twenty? There’s thirty kids in her class.”

“What the fuck? Thirty?”

“Look, things have changed since you used to travel by horse and buggy to your one room schoolhouse.”

“You know what...” he slides his hand up to her side, then pinches the sensitive spot below her ribs.

“Ow! You shit head!” Esme cries, and then shrieks when his fingers did in just above the hip. Aggressively tickling her until she’s flat on her back; kicking and squirming and squealing for mercy.  Laughing until she succumbs to loud, painful hiccups. “You’re a dick!” she dramatically pouts and directs an elbow into his side;  still allowing him to draw her tightly against him, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You almost made me pee myself,” she complains, as she rests her head on his shoulder and places her hand over his as its sits on Addie’s back.

“That’s what you get for making an old man joke.”

“I hear that getting extremely sensitive about aging is the first sign of senility,” she teases, and places a kiss just below ear, then to the scar on the side of his neck. And she pulls back to look at it, tracing a finger over the surface.

It’s almost seven years old now but has just begun to appear not as dark or swollen.  It will always be there; no matter much if softens. A lasting reminder of how close to death he’d actually come. Even now there are days where she can barely stand to look at it; filled with either immense sorrow or rage. And others where she feels nothing at all. Where it’s nothing more than one of the various battle wounds that take up residence on his body. She knows every single one and the stories behind them; able to find them with and trace them with her eyes closed.

“It’s really starting to change,” she comments, and then lays her hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her, kissing him softly.

“It doesn’t both you are much anymore.” It’s more a statement than a question.  

“It never bothered me because of what it looks like. It’s never been about that. It bothered me because of what it represents.”

“You and I do not like at the same way. It reminds you of the end. Or what was almost the end. It reminds me of the beginning.”

She smiles at that and leans in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against his ear. Closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his cheek, his hand moving from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and then higher; kissing her as he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face and off her shoulders.

“You guys aren’t making babies, are you?!” Millie calls, her voice dripping with disgust. “I do not want another brother!”

Tyler chuckles. “This is not how babies are made,” he assures her. “Sometimes it starts out like this and then leads to babies being made.”

His wife scowls. “Don’t touch her things. What’s wrong with you? Amelia, we talked about this. It is not possible to have any more babies. Your dad got neutered.”

“What the fuck?” Tyler mutters. “Don’t tell her that.”

“What do you want me to tell her? You got the snip and had to lie on the couch for two days with a bag of frozen peas on your crotch?”

“You know how you always threaten me with sleeping on the couch? You keep pushing your luck, you’re going to end up there.”

“A full eight hours without you snoring or talking in your sleep? Sign me up. Awww...baby...” she gives a dramatic pout and places a series of kisses along his jaw. “...did I hurt your feelings? Did I upset your delicate sensibilities? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I can think of one way that I’ll accept.”

“We only do that once a year. It’s not our anniversary yet. So no, not going to happen. Anything other than THAT.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Anything?”

“I don’t like that look you get when you ask that.”

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I’m not sure right about now.”

“Just trust me. I’ll go easy on you. I promise.”

She frowns. “You’re not even going to tell me what it is?”

“Nope. You’ll find out. Once the kids go to bed. It’s not that bad, I swear. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you or freak you out. It’s tame. For me, anyway.”

“Even at your tamest you’re dirty. With a capital D, so...”

“Trust me,” Tyler implores, then gives her a long, slow kiss before sitting up; one hand on the back of Addie’s head, the other on her bum. Grimacing at the pain that settles in his shoulder and the stiffness in his back. Some days it’s bearable; he can get by without popping any pain meds and time in the water or even standing under a hot shower is all the help her needs. Other days he can barely get out of bed and there isn’t enough medication in the world to even take the edge of. The lasting and crippling souvenir of a hard, punishing life.  

“You need to go and get that checked,” Esme scolds, as she kneels behind him, a palm pressed between his shoulders as she digs the fingers of the other hand into the most troublesome spot: to the right of the spine, on the edge of the shoulder blade. She doesn’t even need to ask anymore. She just knows. Every spot that aches, every trigger point that send pain and numbness shooting his entire arm and settling into his fingers.

“I probably should have gotten it checked when we first moved here.”

“You think, Tyler? You really think? You know what I think? I think we’ve far surpassed it just being a separated shoulder.”

“A fucked up shoulder is more like it,” he says through gritted teeth, then stretches his legs out in front of him and places Addie on his thighs.

“You were supposed to take it easy after the replacement surgery. Not go back to what caused all of the damage in the first place.”

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it.”  She wraps her arm around his neck, resting it along his collarbone as she digs her thumb into the most sensitive and painful area of the muscle. Causing a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth; loud enough for Millie to stop what she’s doing and glance over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face.  “Why did you wait so long?” Esme sighs. “I told you when you got back from New Zealand to go and have it looked at.”

“I just thought it was separated,” he speaks through clenched teeth, his eyes closed. “Then I thought maybe it was just the arthritis flaring up. Now...”

“Something is totally fucked in there. I can feel something moving around. And there’s a lot of clicking and popping going on. You’re probably going to need surgery. Again.”

“Okay Miss Negativity. I don’t need to hear this.”

“You’re going to hear it, you stubborn shit head. What are you going to do if it gives out while you’re training Ovi? Or worse. When you go and rescue his sorry ass. Then what?”

“First, I’m going to dope myself up and hope for the best. Second, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to have go and bail him out of trouble. Let’s just get past the first part, yeah?”

“You’re going to pass the first part because you didn’t go and get your shoulder looked at when you should have. You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change.”

“That’s rich. You of all people saying that. Okay....stop...stop...fuck...” he drops his head to his chest; sweat beats across his forehead and trickles down his temples.  

“Are you okay?” She leans in and pecks his cheek. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Seriously, Tyler, you need to go and get looked at. I’m not fucking around. Enough is enough. Stop being so...I don’t know...so YOU.”  Heaving a sigh, she sits down beside him one again, one hand rubbing his back comfortingly, the other softly stroking his thigh. “Go and get it check,” she begs. “Please.”

“Nothing can be done about it right now anyway. It would have to wait until the shit with Ovi is done. Then I’ll go. As soon as it’s finished.”

“You better. Because I’m not above being the kind of wife that makes your doctor's appointments for you. You’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear. They actually listen better than you do.”

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Huge. A huge pain in the ass,” she concedes, then tousles his hair. “Did you know Kyle didn’t come home last night?”

He removes the receiving blanket from Addie’s face, smiling down at her as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t know he lived here now.”

“He walked Salena home and never came back. Not until you and Millie left to go into town. You know what that means?”

“He got more action than I did last night?”

“It means that there’s trouble in paradise. Or hell. However you want to look at him and Nik.”

“I don’t look at them at all, so...”

“What is the hold she has on you guys? We’ve established she’s not good in bed. She doesn’t give head so it’s not that either. She doesn’t even have big boobs or a nice ass.”

“First, she doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has. She was there if I wanted it. That’s it. No strings attached. I’d fuck her, she’d leave. That’s as far as it went. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Were your standards that low?”

“I was taking Oxy with booze. What do you think?”

“I think I came along at the right time.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You have to admit, Kyle is way too good for her.”

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t care what either of them do. He wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. Who gives a shit? Don’t take it so personally. Do I think it’s fucked he’d hook up with someone that cause shit between us? Of course, I do. But if he's that stupid, he deserves to be miserable.”

“We’d be related to her,” Esme points out.

“And? We’d never have to see her. You think they’d come here all the time or something? Nik would never settle down here. Ever. Trust me.”

“Kyle wants to. Settle down here.”

“He’d never win against her. Stop worrying so much her so much. Yeah, she caused a lot of shit. Or tried to. But it didn’t work and us being together and being happy and having a family? That’s the best revenge against her. Your brother’s a big boy. Let him do what he wants. You can’t stop him from fucking up his life.

“He’s my brother.”

“And? Your brother knowingly got with someone who tried to ruin your life. If you ask me, he deserves whatever shit show he gets with Nik.”

“But...” she runs her fingertips along the top of his hand, then along the smooth metal of his wedding band. “...if we could get him hooked up with Salena....”

“I’m not getting him hooked up with anyone. Leave me out of this. You shouldn’t even be involved in this. We’re adults for fuck sake. Can we concentrate on our own relationship and our kids? Because those two things are all that matters to me.”

“I didn’t realize we were having problems to concentrate on.”

“Did I say there were problems? Other than I think you should mind your own business? Stop...” he drapes his arm across her shoulder and pulls her into him, kissing her temple. “...let’s just worry about what us and what goes on in our own house. Who cares what your brother is doing or who he’s doing it with. He can handle his own shit. He does not need you getting involved.”

“I just think...”

“Esme...”

“...that he...”

“Stop,” he gently orders, then tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her into a kiss. Longer time and more intense; closed mouth upon closed mouth. And the tip of his tongue just brushes against her top lip before he pulls away.

“Okay...” she sighs, and grins when she feels him kiss the tip of her nose. “...that was...nice...”

“Nice? Just nice?”

“Well I can’t show you just HOW nice because there’s little people here. But trust me. It was better than nice.”

“Just let it go. This thing with Nik and your brother.  If he fucks up, he fucks up. He’ll learn his lesson. Let’s just concentrate on us.”

“I hate to break it too you, honey, but if we haven’t been able to concentrate on just us in almost six years. Five kids, remember? Do we even exist outside of being parents anymore? Because I don’t remember the last time it was ‘just us’. And I’m not talking about sex, for the record. So let’s not get into that conversation again. When is the last time we actually went somewhere without out kids?”

“Well it was just you and I in the bathroom this morning while I took a leak and you brushed your teeth.”

“That was a really nice three minutes of connecting with you, I must say. I’ll see you again in another what? Five, six years?”

“You wanted a big family. I was fine with three.”

“Pardon me? You’re the one who wanted a fourth and a fifth. You’re the one who talked me into it, remember? You wanted a half dozen kids and a stay at home wife and I was more than willing to give you what you wanted. So don’t start with that.”

“That means there’s one more to go if we agreed to half a dozen.”

“Oh no!” she laughs. “Don’t you even dare. I am done. I am babied out. You want another one, you go find yourself a second wife to give you more kids. Because this wife is done.”

“One more wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would hurt my vagina, okay. It’s seen five kids already. It’s a hot mess down there.”

“A SEXY hot mess,” he grins, and nudges her playfully with his elbow.  

“You are like the most biased husband on the planet and I love you so fucking much for it,” she wraps her arm around his neck and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I keep you. You do wonders for my ego.”

“So one more?” He hopefully attempts.

“You’re insane. Why would you go and get the operation done and then decide three months later you made a mistake? Why didn’t you just hold off until after Addie and then we had this discussion?”

“I thought we were done. That was it. Five.”

“Because we agreed we were done. And now you’re changing your mind. Just like you did when Declan was supposed to be the last one. What is wrong with you? What is this overwhelming obsession to breed?”

“It’s not an obsession. I just...I don’t know...” he shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the hem on Addie’s sundress. “...I just want to leave something good behind when I go, I guess.”

“And you’ve made five very good things. Five very beautiful and healthy and incredible things. So why...?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just wouldn’t mind one more. Even it out.”

“She’s only three weeks old,” Esme reminds him.

“I didn’t say I want one right now. I mean eventually. A year from now. Two years from now.”

“That is not what you’re thinking, and I can tell. That is not what’s going on in your head, Tyler.  This started as soon as all this Ovi crap came about. As soon as you agreed to get back into things, you started thinking about this, didn’t you.”

“Maybe...”

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” She combs her fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That beautiful, troubled mind.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits.“I just thinking about if things go wrong...if I have to help Ovi and things just get even worse...what have I left behind? Did I do enough? Did my life mean anything?”

“Your life means so much more than you think. To me. To your kids.  Don’t ever doubt that, please. You will have left so much behind. You helped make five amazing little human beings. Who adore you and worship you and think you’re the most amazing man in the entire world. And you know what?”  She curls both arms around one of his “I think you are most amazing, beautiful man in the world, too. You don’t realize it, but you saved me just as much as I saved you. Don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. Or your kids. Okay?”

He nods and places a kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes even the biggest and the strongest need to feel appreciated and validated. Even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“And as far as this sixth kid thing goes, can you give me at least a few months? Because right now I’m worn out and sometimes I don’t even know if I can handle the five I already have.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

“You really are the most biased husband on the planet,” she grins.

“It doesn’t make it less true. And speaking of five kids, where’s The Ginger?”

“He didn’t want to come home from Salena’s and I was not dealing with the tantrum that would have ensued if I’d have forced him. You might be able to carry him all the way from there to here, but he’s damn heavy and I’m not even attempting it.  I told her that you’d come and get him after dinner.”

Tyler groans. “You’re going to send me over there? Do you know what I had to deal with yesterday when she came by here? Twice? Do you know she was checking out my dick?”

“She told me. She’s hardly shy in case you haven’t noticed. She wanted to know how I haven’t been split in two yet.”

“Jesus Christ...”

“What? Sometimes I wonder myself. Are you blushing? Holy shit. Is Tyler Rake blushing? I’ve seen it all now. You’re not usually like this. You usually don’t mind when a woman checks you out.”

“They’re usually not checking out my dick and my wife isn’t usually talking to them about my dick, so...”

“Baby, just so you know, I brag about every part of you. Not just your dick. Did Kyle call?”

“That was a weird transition. Why does he talk about my dick too?”

“I’d be very worried and disturbed if he did. I was wondering where our other children are. If he’s actually surviving out there somewhere with them or if you turned off your cell so he wouldn't call for help...”

“He left a voicemail. Said he’d have them home before bedtime. I said to keep them for a few days but...” he shrugs. “...he didn’t agree to that. Sorry. I tried.”

“You know what means? For the first time since Declan was born, testosterone is not in charge of the house. Now it’s estrogen.  Oh my God, you poor man.”

“You’re not PMS’ing, so I’m okay. I’ve survived almost seven years of that shit every month. I can survive one night.”

“We’ll see about that,” she gives him a wink, then places her hands on his shoulders to help push herself up onto her feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit. You’re going to be picking me up and carrying me to the house one of these days. I think I’m falling apart too.  Millie!” she calls to her daughter. “Let’s go and cleaned up. Daddy’s taking us out on a date.”

Tyler grins. “He is, is he?”

“When you do ever get to go to dinner with two and a quarter beautiful women?”  

“There was this one time in Thailand...”

“No one wants to hear about your conquests, Tyler. And by no one, I mean me.”

“Daddy...” Mille stomps over. “...did you see this shit?” she wildly gestures towards her mother’s feet with the plastic shovel in her hand.

“Millie, just don’t ask. Let your mom be as weird as she wants. I’m used to it.”

“Socks on the beach!” Millie huffs. “What the hell, mom.”

Tyler smirks, and clutches Addie to his chest with one hand, offers the other to Millie and lets her think she’s pulling him to his feet. “I bet you’re extra glad my DNA was stronger the day you were made, aren’t you?”

“So glad,” Millie agrees, and then shrieks when he scoops her effortlessly with one hand, giggling hysterically and her legs kicking as he tucks her under his arm, carrying her ‘football style’.  

“You know...” Esme muses, as she curls an arm around his waist. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things will go okay. With Ovi.”

“They will,” he promises. And hopes that those words sound more convincing to her ears than they do to his own.

[darkestwolfx]

Legacy - Re-Review #26

We’ve made it! The end of Series 1 is here!

“This is so not good.”

Yeah, I’m with you Gordon.

Because with the end of series one here, of course, so is The Hood. You can’t have a series finale without your series villain. Wouldn’t it be disastrous if this image was how it all ended? Yeah, no thank you. Still, it has to be said that his timing has not improved - because, excuse me Hood, but you don’t interrupt a girl when she’s trying to tell her family something really important! Seriously, this family hardly ever get the time they should together and he interrupts them for a trick? I’m not even going to mention how well planned and thought out it was because I don’t want to be giving the villain credit, but damn he is intelligent.

"Next time.”

“I just hope I’m not too late.”

“Me too.”

And of course we all know that means that it will be. I also love how right from the start in ‘Ring of Fire’, Grandma has been shown to know the truth. She’s a good secret keeper.

Legacy - good title for many reasons. International Rescue was always seen and implied to be Jeff’s legacy, so it makes complete sense.

“It’s like the perfect storm of emergencies all across the globe.”

Of course it is. Because The Hood is actually a good, but ultimately bad, villain!

And look at Grandma back in the main seat and helping out.

“And I’ll take over monitor duty!”

She sounded so happy with that option.

That Island launch for Thunderbird Four though... I have been waiting to see that for a long, long time. It kind of tributes to TOS ‘Terror in New York City’ which saw the only island launch of T4. I know (now of course, but I didn’t know it then), that we will see this launch procedure a few more times, but this first instance made me so, so happy!

And that launch montage that went with it was perfection.

“Everything is RAD.”

“RAD?”

“That’s my new catch phrase..?”

“Alright then.”

But let’s all be honest, everything is not RAD, or even FAB.

No, there’s trouble ahead!

“Tracy Island has been compromised!”

Kayo realised it, which is probably the lifesaving fact of this episode, because else it might have taken Lady P some time to realise and who knows what trouble The Hood could have caused (beyond what he does get away with anyway). Seriously though, this should have been a little expected from ‘Ring of Fire’. Apparently The Hood is good at making explosive devises.

“Scott, I’m back on the Island, we have a situation.”

“You’re not the only one. I’m looking at some kind of explosive devise.”

“Me too.”

“Same here.”

“It’s all of us.”

“You were right about us being tricked, Kayo.”

“That’s not our only problem. Tracy Island has a visitor.”

“Nice view. I think I’ll take it.”

Ur... Mr Hood... You are aware that this isn’t Homes under the Hammer or Escape to the Country or anything like that right? This is Thunderbirds Are Go - which kinda means the Island isn’t on the market.

“You lured every one of us into a trap.”

“And yet only you were able to see through it.”

Yep, family, I’m calling it - and I’ll explain my thinking on it later on in the review.

“When it comes to family, I’m a man of my word.”

I’m sure he is. Well, actually I think he could be. I think that could be the one honest quote The Hood has ever given us. After all, he did save Kayo’s life in ‘Touch and Go’ and he didn’t have to.

“It’s funny how our lives took such different paths. You on a fool’s mission to save the world. And me-”

“Bent on destroying it?”

“Hardly. I want to build. Create. Sometimes that means starting with a clean slate.”

See now that is the sort of brilliant back story hints I’m also going to talk about a bit later! I really wish they’d continued to the end. And let’s just ignore The Hood’s little bit of poetry in that last line. I don’t think he realised that create and slate rhymed... If he did, maybe he’s in the wrong business.

“Execute WASP protocol Alpha.”

That’s another nice reference to TOS backstory considering Gordon worked for WASP.

“I am not amused, Kayo! What have you done?”

Turned into Queen Victoria (apparently) have you now, Hood?

Hmm... anyone see the resemblance..? Because I don’t.

“You have to trust me.”

“Trust? Would he trust you knowing the kind of secrets you’ve been keeping?”

Here we go.

“What’s he talking about.”

“She’s been working for me the whole time.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? And would I be lying when I tell them I’m your Uncle?”

“Kayo, is this true?”

“Yes, it’s true. The Hood is my uncle.”

“The Hood is your uncle? The same evil mastermind responsible for us losing Dad?”

Yes and yes, Gordon. But let’s see in the end we do know about most families that blood is thicker and water, and that family can always be the one we chose, not the one we have by strict genetics.

“There’s only one question we need to be asking ourselves now. What would Dad do?”

Well your Dad knew and still kept her as part of the family so... Yeah, I think they come to the right decision channeling their Father. After all, The Hood was responsible for them losing Jeff, Kayo played no part in that.

I’d also like to say that Grandma and MAX have a pretty good apprehension plan;

“You two look hungry.”

Cue tray of burnt cookies... yeah, I’d rather them than us.

Look at this team of brother’s. They’re unstoppable at the best of times, but we actually forget about a lot of the ground work that Kayo does which is what actually allows these boys to swoop in and be the heroes.

Yes, they probably would have coped, but had they not turned up, I’m pretty sure Kayo still would have had a back-up plan to make sure The Hood didn’t get away. In fact, we should remember that the boys being able to be here to stop The Hood was essentially also part of Kayo’s (hoped) plan.

International Rescue may not be in the “bad guy chasing business” unless they’re making “exceptions”, but the fact is that Kayo, like a shadow (much like the deserved name of her Thunderbird), is always looking out for them even when we don’t necessarily see it. The fact is that her knowing The Hood as her Uncle probably made her know him better. There is a proven statistic that you are more likely to die at the hand of someone that you know. It is also proven that you are more likely to be able to survive at the hands of someone you know - because you know them well enough to either be able to predict or manipulate what they will do.

Kayo may not live with The Hood and she may not accept him as her family, but the fact is, she still knows he lives and thrives off manipulation and mind tricks, and she reflects those right back at him in getting him to think he is gaining and then blowing up Tracy Island. Throwing his own tricks right back at him... pretty successful plan I’d say.

The Hood’s face as they break apart his ship! That was well warranted though in my opinion, and really if we look back at The Hood’s history of escape attempts in TOS we should have known they’d catch up with him in TAG eventually. I mean (warning: big TOS spoilers ahead), we had;

A plane crash [into a building] (’Martian Invasion’)

Car tumbling into a river (’The Edge of Impact’)

Flooded, crashed and exploded submarine (’Desperate Intruder’)

Car falling off a crumbling cliff side (’Cry Wolf’)

Car shot at, set alight, and tumbling over a cliff (’Trapped in the Sky’)

But crucially, he always survived them all - even though I personally think the events of ‘Trapped in the Sky’ and ‘Martian Invasion’ had very slim chances of survival. On the other hand, in ‘Cry Wolf’ he got lucky to be caught on the cliff side and so not in the upturned car - which is actually highly probably in cliff side car falls, because clothes snag on rock and vine (although injuries are usually major, like internal bleeding or debris puncture wounds). But from all that Scott could see it did look highly probable that he couldn’t have survived;

“He couldn’t have stood a chance. Well I guess that’s the last crooked game you’ll ever play.” (Scott, ‘Cry Wolf’)

In fact, out of the six episodes in which The Hood was the main villain, he only made a clean getaway in ‘The Mighty Atom’ and the others - in most real life cases - would have resulted in series injury and/or death. So we should have expected his clean getaways in TAG - ‘Crosscut’, ‘Fireflash’, ‘Unplugged’, ‘Under Pressure’, ‘Touch and Go’ - would eventually come to an end.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9pq-4ojxFA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXokXzofNjs

Back when TAG first aired, it was kinda rumoured that Amazon had funded more series’, so I kinda knew The Hood would probably be back in some way, shape or form, but re-watching it again now, I can see all the clues in the animation of how The Hood takes his defeat.

For all the ‘scooby-doo’ moments of-

“Curse those stupid boys, curse their stupid father, curse International Rescue!” (’Cry Wolf’)

As a side note I could go on here about how disappointed i was with TAG’s backstory on The Hood, especially considering this implication and all the one’s they gave us prior, but I’m actually going to do that (and the rest of this) in a separate post, so keep your eyes open.

-along with a miraculous escape which they gave us in TOS, in this it’s defeat taken quietly in the end and that gave everything away; no villain of The Hood’s caliber would go quietly. Not to mention, we know he’s smart and has some serious tech, for we saw him get into a GDF jail to see Janus in ‘Chain of Command’. No cell can hold him and now we’re ready for series 2.

And to end with, this soundtrack is legendary - and not just for the CD cover - I completely recommend it!

By the way, as a complete side note, has anyone else (in the UK at least) noticed all the TV glitches lately? Little coloured lines and patches jumping across the screen or scenes pushing and then skipping ahead a couple seconds? I ask just out of pure interest!

[antoine-roquentin]

In 2009, when the world was falling apart, a lot of people were asking new President Barack Obama to turn to Paul Volcker, the tall and prestigious former central banker whose reputation was of near God-like stature.  Obama did, asking Volcker for advice. But Larry Summers, key advisor to Obama, sabotaged the relationship. Volcker encouraged Obama to stop banks from gambling with internal hedge funds, but Summers wanted banks to keep gambling with internal hedge funds. Summers won the bureaucratic fight.

Volcker’s titanic reputation was by then decades old. But so too was Volcker pursuing honesty in finance, and getting pushed out because of it. In 1986, Ronald Reagan essentially fired Volcker from his position as the head of the Federal Reserve because Paul Volcker was trying to crack down on the junk-bond fueled mergers craze that was clearly corrupting America’s savings and loan banks. Felix Rohatyn, a Democratic fixer and Lazard investment banker, pleaded with the Republicans, “if we sacrifice Paul Volcker for the junk-bond mania, we will clearly show the world that we’ve lost any sense of financial responsibility.”

Here’s a story from 1986, at the height of the frenzy.

Volcker lost the battle at the Fed, and ultimately Alan Greenspan, who was on the payroll of one of the largest corrupt savings and loan banks, took over. Volcker, in pursuing financial rectitude, had no allies except the ‘respect’ of the financial world, which, as it turns out, isn’t worth much at all. And the reason, ironically, is because Volcker killed his greatest would-be allies.

I first ran into Volcker’s career while researching Penn Central, the train system that went bankrupt in 1970 in the greatest then-collapse in American history. It was like the Enron of its time. The Nixon administration tasked the conservative Volcker with overseeing the fiasco, and he was a fairly honest broker. He tried, not very hard, to get a bailout, but when Congressman Wright Patman said no, that was that.

In 1979 Jimmy Carter nominated Volcker to be the head of the Fed. Carter's advisor warned him that Volcker was the "candidate of Wall Street." In an era of red-hot inflation, Volcker's goal was to cut the growth of prices, with the ultimate end of keeping the dollar strong globally. He had popular backing, Americans saw inflation as the most pressing economic problem. Volcker went straight at the auto sector, the unionized pace setting industry which set the informal wage growth patterns of the entire country since the 1950s.

His goal was to crush wages, straight out. To give you a sense of how strongly he felt about this goal, consider that during this period, from the late 1970s to the mid-1980s, Volcker walked around with a card of union wages in his pocket to remind himself that his goal was to crush the middle class. Volcker even angered Reagan officials by keeping interest rates too high for too long. When they complained, he would pull “out his card on union wages” and note that inflation would not come down permanently until labor “got the message and surrendered.” Volcker said that the prosperity of the 1950s and 1960s was a "hall of mirrors" and that the "standard of living of the average American must decline."

Volcker was a deeply conservative, but not corrupt, official. I think the speech that best exemplifies how he thought was one he gave in 1981 before the Economic Club of New York, lauding the bankruptcy and turnaround of the city.

Five years ago, when I last addressed the Economic Club, the preoccupation of the day was the acute financial distress of this great City and State.  That big black headline in the Daily News—"Ford to New York: Drop Dead"—was not quite accurate.  But in its bold and brazen way, it did carry an essential message.  Any lasting solution to our economic problems would have to begin, and end at home.

A month or so ago, I was struck by another headline, this time in a Wall Street Journal editorial:  "The Supply Side Saves New York."  Somehow, in five years, New York had become an example for the rest of the country to follow.”

Volcker, in other words, was an ardent fan of austerity. And in his speech, he explicitly noted that New York City had no printing press to get out of the fiscal jam it had been in. That was, as Volcker put it, “fortunate.” Instead, the city had to slash expenditures, particularly on the poor. Volcker hoped that the America would take this lesson to heart nationally, and since he ran the printing press, that’s what he made sure happened. He also believed strongly in slashing taxes, government spending, and in deregulation, as he said to businessmen in Kansas City that year.

Volcker raised interest rates radically, crushing small businesses, farms, banks, and credit unions. To many of his fans, and even his opponents, this was simply what had to be done to get inflation out of the system. But there was a brief experiment, if forgotten, experiment in trying a different path, In the spring of 1980, Jimmy Carter encouraged Volcker not to raise interest rates, but to place “credit controls” onto consumer borrowing. Credit controls are direct public rules on specific lending institutions that make it more or less expensive to lend or borrow, and were a major mechanism to keep inflation out of the system during World War Two and the Korean War. And the Fed had the authority to make it more expensive for banks and financial institutions to issue credit cards and lend money to consumers.

Volcker used these tools incredibly poor, clumsily even, with some suspecting he was intending to sabotage the use of regulatory tools he didn’t like. Inflation collapsed, as did interest rates and the economy slid rapidly. Within a few months, Volcker and the bankers got rid of credit controls. Inflation and interest rates jumped right back up, and Volcker was able to discredit credit controls. He then inflicted massive pain on the middle class instead of the banking system by using interest rates and monetary policy, instead of explicitly telling big banks to stop lending.

At the same time as Volcker was destroying unions, small banks, small farms, and small businesses, he was structuring the Too Big to Fail model of finance. In 1980, Nelson and Bunker Hunt, two oil billionaire heirs, tried to corner the silver market in league with Arab interests. Volcker organized a bailout. By 1980, Wall Street had gotten the message. Economist Albert Wojnilower explained, “It is now everywhere taken for granted that no monetary authority will allow any key financial actor to fail."

In the middle of the 1980s, Volcker’s strategy looked like a success. Inflation was gone, the economy was growing, technology seemed to be restructuring society, and the workforce had largely been de-unionized. But there was a something of a mirage, as a bubble in financial leverage through savings and loan banks and junk bonds emerged. Volcker tried to crack down on this bubble, to block the use of junk bonds for certain kinds of seedy transactions. He knew a scumbag when he saw one, and the junk bond peddlers and M&A artists were scum. But by then, his allies against financial corruption, notably the small banks, small business, and unions, were dead or dying. So it was Paul Volcker and all his vaunted respect, versus an army on Wall Street.

There was no contest. The predatory bankers won, as they did again in 2009.

Towards the end of his life, Volcker railed against the corruption he saw everywhere. But he never connected the dots between his own actions destroying public institutions and the inability to constrain the financial corruption he despised. Many people in finance have fond memories of an incorruptible Paul Volcker standing up against financial corruption and reigning in inflation. Which is true. But Volcker really wasn't on the side of democracy, and that's why he oversaw nothing but decline.

I ran into Paul Volcker a few years ago at a conference when I was a Democratic Congressional staffer. He harangued me and said 'why are you Democrats so weak?' I wish I had responded, 'because you killed the unions.'

And that is the tragedy of Paul Volcker.