#and don’t get me started on the ludicrous theories that will never happen that you’ve deluded yourself into thinking are better than what

[daisysmalia]

That TikToker who recently started watching the show has the worst takes and yet all I see is people hyping them up on there and their twitter. Like why.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 28, Post #1 by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: The Argument Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Gen Prompt: “Siblings: The only enemy you can’t live without” -Anonymous Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mild language

When he was a child, Ron had sometimes sat secretly on the stairs, feet in slippers too big for him, teddy tucked under his arm, listening to the goings on in the kitchen. Often his sister or a brother or two would be with him. This was especially the case when there was an argument, because they were a nosy bunch of kids, and they would grin gleefully at one another as they heard their mother roar over some issue, like when Bill came home with his first tattoo, or Charlie had done something dangerous like climb on the roof, or the many, many, many things that Fred and George had done. They would gather on the stairs and snigger and delight in their siblings being in trouble - that it wasn't them, and usually it was over something hilarious too. 

Today was quite different. The stairs were narrow, so Ginny was pressed right up against him, but she was gripping hold of his arm too. Behind them, Fred and George sat in grim, stony silence, their knees occasionally knocking the back of Ron's head, but, remarkably, none of them were squabbling.

'Is it so hard to just be happy for me?' Percy was bellowing, and that in itself was unusual, because it was never Percy in trouble. 

'It's not about that,' Dad was bellowing back, 'are you so naive? Are you really so foolish-?' This was unusual too, because it wasn't usually Dad bellowing. 

'Percy... Percy, we're just worried, we're just concerned...' Mum was sobbing. This was unusual, because she usually had a bit more fight in her, not this desperate pleading. 

'You're so cynical, the pair of you-'

'We're realistic! You've been promoted well above your grade before the dust has settled on the inquiry-'

'STOP BRINGING UP THE INQUIRY!' Percy sounded quite deranged; the ferocity of his voice made Ginny jump slightly, and grip Ron's arm harder. 'That - wasn't - my - fault! That was the point of it! That PROVED I wasn't to blame, I was acquitted-'

'Yes, and we were delighted,' said Dad, and to Ron's astonishment, his words sounded bitingly sarcastic, 'but even so, you have to see that mass scandal is not usually a precursor to promotion!'

'He SAW something in me!' 

'Yes, he did! He saw a potential spy! On our family - on Dumbledore-'

Percy let out a maniacal laugh, forced and sneering and sanctimonious, it made Ron wince as he heard it. 'And you say I'm arrogant?' 

'We've never said you were arrogant-' Mum tried to chip in desperately, but Percy continued talking over her. 

'You think you're important enough to warrant the Minister for Magic spying on you? You think he considers you in the same circle as Dumbledore? More to the point, you think Dumbledore truly respects the likes of you?'  

'Fudge has been going round making it more than clear that anyone who supports Dumbledore can clear out their desks-'

'Utter rot-'

'-He knows I'm friendly with him, he knows I have advised the school on muggleborn inte-'

'No one cares!' Percy screamed. 'No one cares about that stuff! You're ludicrous!'

'Ludicrous?' Dad echoed, with an uncharacteristic scoff to his voice. 

'Ludicrous! Not everything is a conspiracy, not everything has an anti-muggle agenda - I know what this is really about, you're embarrassed that your own son is rising above you, is succeeding where you haven't-'

'Percy!' Mum's gasp was so clear that Ron could easily imagine her hand leaping to her chest. 

'I've had to struggle against your lousy reputation ever since I started! Do you know how embarrassing it is? Do you know what it's like having people ask if I'm related to the muggle-mad Weasley on Level Two-' 

'That's enough,' said Dad coldly. 

'I lie to them, d'you know that? I tell them we're only distantly related.' 

'What the fuck?' Ron heard one of the twins whisper behind them. 'Is he serious?' 

'I never imagined I had raised you to be so small-minded-' Dad was spitting back.

'It's baffling that you raised me at all! You, who has no ambition, no sense, no idea of how ridiculous you come across with your obsession with muggles - is it any wonder you've always been passed over for promotion-'

'-Because of bigotry!'

'-Any wonder you've left your children to grow up in poverty? To be humiliated by the failures of their father?' 

'Stop it! Percy, stop it!' Mum was wailing, and whether it was Fred or George directly behind him Ron didn't know, but their knee was trembling against the back of his head. 

'It's not failure, it's a matter of principle and integrity!' Dad roared back. 'There are more important things than gold, that's what we've always-'

'You are deluded! You are so blinded by your persecution complex, by your victimhood, that you cannot be happy for your son!' Percy’s voice was hoarse and raw, whether from tears or overexertion, Ron wasn’t sure. 'You can't bear to see him succeed where you failed! To see him make something of himself!'

'Why would I be happy watching my son be manipulated and used? Make no mistake, Percy - this is no achievement, this is Fudge playing you as a puppet - if you're ashamed of your background, that's your prerogative, but there's no denying this family is known to be close to Dumbledore and Harry, and Fudge is waging a vendetta against-'

‘You’re an idiot to run around with Dumbledore!’ snapped Percy. ‘He’s heading for trouble - gone completely power mad the last few years - you know full well his glory days are over. You’ll end up going down with him-’

‘Fudge is fighting a campaign against Dumbledore when he should be-’

‘I know where my loyalties lie, and it is not with my old teacher! It is with my employer, the leader of my government, with people who look at the facts!’

‘The facts are that Harry-’

'Yes - Harry - here we go,' snapped Percy. 'You rank the word of a child above the expert testimonies and mountains of evidence brought up by the inquiry, above your own boss - no wonder he thinks you're cracked. You’re determined to see conspiracy everywhere-’ 

‘How can you say that? You saw the aftermath of what happened, you saw him-’

‘I saw the actual dead boy, I saw Diggory!’ snapped Percy. ‘Think what his family is going through, their child’s death being used as a political quaffle-’

‘That is Fudge’s doing! That is his choice! He has chosen to make a mockery of Diggory, to disregard Harry-'

‘To question the story of a teenager,’ corrected Percy. His tone was cold and quiet, the kind of sanctimonious "I'm being the grown up here, actually" patience that Ron found unbearably aggravating. ‘The only evidence is his word, it’s not unreasonable to question a witness. In fact, it’s a perfectly standard part of due process.’

Ron’s growing anger was now twisted with a kind of lurching dread. The snide little comments in the Daily Prophet, which they had all blustered and raged and gasped in revolted disdain at over breakfasts for the past week, suddenly felt sinister. As he thought about it, Percy had never joined in… had always been silent… 

‘Percy…’ said Mum, so faintly that, as one, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all leaned forward to listen. ‘Percy, surely you… surely you believe him? Surely you can’t believe he deserves what they’re saying about him? He’s just a child - it’s like the whole world’s forgotten that he’s just a child.’ 

'Yes, he's just a child - so why should he be the centre of everything?' Percy demanded. 'Why should he shape our family? Impact our careers?' 

'Percy… if you had seen him in the hospital wing, if you had looked into his eyes…' 

'Mr Fudge was not convinced,' said Percy, as though that settled the matter.

‘Has he asked you about Harry?’ Dad asked abruptly. Beside Ron, Ginny was shaking. ‘Casually?’ 

‘I - no more than is to be expected when you have someone famous living under your roof-’

‘What did he ask? What did you say?’ 

They heard a brief, thick silence, and a sharp exhale of air. ‘He… he’s not relevant to this discussion. This is beyond - this isn’t the issue - the only evidence is his word, as I said-’ 

‘You don’t believe him.’ Dad’s voice was blank, stunned, quiet. ‘You… you know that boy, Percy.’  

‘You don’t believe in me,’ said Percy, and Ron could hear his tears now, the slight thickness to his voice, the sniffs between words. ‘You’d rather believe in some ludicrous conspiracy theory from a teenager who thinks he sees You-Know-Who around every corner than believe that your own son might have worked hard, might be talented, might deserve his career. You’d really think so little of me.’ 

‘That’s not it. That’s not it at all,’ Dad said quietly, and Mum was crying loudly. ‘We just-’

‘I don’t care!’ said Percy harshly. ‘I don’t care what you think! Not any more! Years I’ve put up with it, years! I’m going - I’m gone - I don’t want to see either of you again - you’ve made it clear that you don’t have my interests at heart, this was your choice-’

‘What do you mean?’ Mum shrieked, and they could hear the scraping of chairs being moved aside, thundering footsteps, Mum begging-

The door was thrust open, and Percy stood for a moment in the hallway, looking up at the four of them sitting on the stairs. His expression was unreadable. Tear tracks shone from beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and his mouth was a thin, grim line. 

‘Move,’ he told them. 

‘You’re being a right bellend,’ said Fred at once. 

‘MOVE!’ 

They did not, and Mum had come running after Percy, hanging desperately onto his arm though he tried to shake her off. ‘Come on, Perce,’ she pleaded. ‘Come and sit down, let’s all cool off and talk about this-’

‘Get out of my way,’ Percy told his siblings once more, and now Ron stood. 

‘Harry’s part of our family,’ he blurted out furiously. 

 ‘He’s not, Ron,’ Percy growled. ‘He’s your friend, that doesn’t mean everything he says is right - move out my way.’ 

‘How can you say that!’ Ginny demanded. ‘What’s wrong with you? How can you say all these horrible things?’ 

Percy started climbing the stairs, pushing Ron aside and stepping over Ginny, furiously struggling past Fred and George who immediately made their bodies as big and awkward and gangling as they could imagine, shouting colourful insults at him as he pushed past and thundered up to his room. 

‘He just needs to calm down,’ Mum was squeaking. ‘Go - go to your rooms, let me and Dad talk to him-’ 

‘No chance!’ 

‘I haven’t said my piece yet!’ 

He returned just a few moments later, carrying a bulging bag with a jumper sleeve trailing out, a little line of abandoned socks and a pair of underwear left on the stairs. ‘I’m going to stay with friends,’ he said. 

‘You haven't got any,’ goaded George. 

‘Be quiet, George!’ Mum wailed. ‘Percy-’

‘Then I’m getting my own place, I’m not staying here anymore - I’m not letting you all drag me down with you. If you’re all going to be traitors to the Ministry I’m going to make sure everyone’s well aware that I don’t belong to this family any more-’

‘You do, Percy, you do - you’ll always be my son-’ Mum’s words were barely audible beneath her crying. Percy pushed past her, and stormed towards the door. 

‘Percy!’ Ron shouted, and to his surprise, Percy turned and looked at him. 

Ron could not find the words for his contempt, could not find an insult strong enough, could not decide what to do with the rage that was coursing through him. All he could hope was that Percy could feel it in his cold, hard stare. ‘How could you?’ 

Percy said nothing, simply looked back for a moment, and then turned his back and strode swiftly to the door. Mum was running after him, and though they heard the ear-splitting crack of disapparation, she stood in the doorway shouting his name. 

Dad had not followed, and with a creak, Ginny rose beside Ron and descended the last few stairs. She peered through the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Dad?’ 

Ron heard a splutter, and then dry, heaving sobs. Ginny vanished into the kitchen. Behind him, Fred and George were muttering mutinously, swearing and cursing. 

‘What’s he playing at?’ 

‘He’s an idiot. A big-headed, pompous, ridiculous idiot, we’ve always said it, we were right.’ 

‘Who does he think he is? Does he really think that promotion is normal? Does he honestly think he’s that extraordinary?’  

‘Moron…’ 

Ron’s jaw was aching from gritting his teeth so hard, his heart was trying to break through his ribcage and go after Percy to beat him. 

‘Do you really think he meant that stuff he said to Dad?’ George said. ‘It’s just…’  

‘I bet he does, the git,’ said Fred. ‘I bet he really does pretend he’s not part of the family. He’s ashamed of us. Slimy, brown-nosing prick…’ 

‘All that stuff about poverty? So uncalled for.’

‘That’s it, really, isn’t it? He’s a greedy arsehole.’ 

‘Well, he’s certainly written himself out of the will now, hasn’t he?’ 

‘He won’t care, nothing for him to inherit anyway, apparently.’ 

That prickling, heated anger was back - his very ears were hot with it, he wouldn’t be surprised if steam had been bursting out of them. The memory of Harry, pale and shaken in the hospital wing, his hands gripping Mum’s robes as she hugged him, was lingering in his mind. ‘Did you hear all that crap about Harry? Did you hear what he was saying about him? Harry!’

‘Yeah,’ muttered George. ‘Pillock.’ 

‘Why would he say that? What the bloody hell is going on with him? He’s gone bonkers. When did he turn into such a - a -’ He still could not quite find a word strong enough.  

‘Berk?’ suggested George. 

‘Something along those lines…’  

‘Easier than admitting he’s horrible, selfish, idiot snob, I suppose,’ said Fred. 

‘Money’s always been an issue, but blaming Dad like that is just…’ 

‘Nasty,’ said Ron, simply. 

‘You can make money without completely selling out and betraying your family,’ said Fred seriously. ‘You can do it and keep your integrity.’ 

‘He’s acting like we weren’t fed enough,’ said George spitefully. ‘Percy didn’t even get that many hand-me-downs, really - Mum and Dad were doing all right before they were hit with twins, and we all know Ginny was probably unexpected.’ 

‘Was she?’ said Ron distractedly.

‘Are you joking, you were only about eight months old, who picks then to decide to have another baby?’  

‘Mum.’ 

‘Fair.’ 

‘Anyway,’ said Fred, ‘Percy’s not exactly been hard done by, not really. He’s just always been ashamed we’re not as well-heeled as his smarmy new colleagues at the Ministry.’ 

‘It’s childish,’ said Ron, who was feeling another lurch of guilt as he thought back on the previous year. ‘It’s really petty…’ 

‘We’ve all wished the family was better off now and then,’ said George fairly. ‘Who wouldn’t? But that was a seriously low blow. God, poor Dad,' he added, his voice lowering further. 'I'm glad Ginny's gone in to comfort him, I don't even know where to begin.'

‘Do you think he’s really gone for good?’ asked Ron.

‘Hope so,’ said Fred viciously. ‘Hey - one less mouth to feed now, maybe the family’ll be better off.’ 

'You know what else,' Ron said sharply, his brain whirring, 'did you hear him dodging Dad's question about what he's said about Harry? Good thing he's buggered off before we go to the Order Headquarters, isn't it? Who knows what he would have blabbered about?' 

Fred was looking at him as though in a new light. 'You know what, Ronniekins, that is a really excellent and disturbing point. You're a bit of a bright spark at times, aren't you?' 

'Brighter than Percy,' Ron muttered.

[buckyownsmylife]

put it all on me - steve rogers smut

The one where, after Steve fucks you in a bar, he takes you back to his room.

Warnings: Cum eating, oral sex (f), A LOT OF dirty talk, light degradation?, I don’t think so, but just to be sure, it’s just ‘cause Steve likes to tease the reader for her sexual desires, captain kink, talks of threesome, smut, p in v, doggy, face down, ass up, plot twist, poly!Steve, really dominant!Steve

A/N: in theory, this is supposed to be a part ii to this fic, hence the same title. But it’s easily read as a one-shot, so if you don’t want to read that little drabble, just carry on.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first thing Steve did when he managed to get me inside his room was strip me completely naked, and after a few minutes of forcing me to endure his burning gaze on my exposed body, fall to his knees and pull me to accept his body between my legs.

“St-Steve!” I admonished, trying to get out of the position, knowing the cum he had deposited inside of me was going to drip on his face any second now. But all I got was a harsh slap on my ass, Steve’s blunt nails carving half-moon indentations on my skin when he secured my hips, making sure to push my legs as far away as they could get before he sat me down on his mouth. “Shit, Captain! Sorry.”

“You think you can pretend to be all coy and shy now, sweetheart?” He mocked, perfect soft lips already prying my lower ones open and he used his tongue to scoop up his own cum from inside of me, catching me by surprise. I was so surprised, in fact, that I lost control of my own leg muscles, and would have fallen face-first on the floor if it weren’t for Steve still keeping me up by his grip on my hips.

“You can’t play that innocent act with me anymore, princess. Not when you let me fuck you in a bar’s bathroom. Not when you were so eager to milk me dry.” I moaned just from hearing the good old Captain America saying such nasty things from between my legs. It felt like a dream - a dirty, too-good-to-be-true dream, and I loved every second of it.

On the off chance that this whole thing had been just a figment of my imagination, I wanted to make the most out of it. I wasn’t one for lucid dreams, so I didn’t know when it would be the next time I’d get this sort of fun again.

If it was truly happening, then, that’s why I needed to cherish every single second of this experience. There was no part of me that believed I’d be able to lay with Steve freaking Rogers again after tonight. This was purely the result of hurt ego and adrenaline that was most likely still running through his body from the mission he’d been on for the last few weeks. He hadn’t had a release in a while and it was purely the combination of luck and being in the right place, at the right time, that had allowed me to cherish this opportunity. I wouldn’t fake myself into believing any differently.

Steve hummed as he tasted the combination of himself and my wetness. It felt downright depraved, and it only served to get me even wetter for him. “We taste so good together, honey. I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat my cum without yours.”

What the fuck was going on? Who was this person? I just couldn’t believe Steve was actually saying stuff like that. Through the gasps that revealed just how out of breath that situation had made me, I forced myself to let out a raspy, “You do that often?”

It made Steve laugh, still otherwise occupied with licking my wetness away, sometimes humming in a way that let me believe he truly was deeply appreciative of my taste. “You truly have no idea,” he mused, only making even more curious.

Steve’s P.O.V.

Shit, she was perfect. I was so glad her little slip up had given me the perfect opportunity to rail her in the bathroom of that bar because now that I had known how she felt and what she tasted like, there was no way I would ever let her go. And I knew just who would love this development.

“When Bucky gets home, I’m sure he’ll keep my face stuffed in your pussy, licking our remnants to clean you up before he fucks you.” This was a calculated move. I knew exactly what I was doing as I said those words and pried her lower lips open with two of my fingers, prepared to feel her clench around my tongue as she realized what I was implying.

“B-Bucky?” She repeated, and I could only chuckle against her wetness as she writhed over me. So sweet, both in taste and in personality. I can see why he had fallen for her. Such a pretty little thing, so unaware of her allure.

“Oh yeah, darling. You have no idea how badly he has wanted you.” Finally leaving her pussy to watch her face as she tried to get a grip over what I was telling, I pushed two of my fingers in her hole, listening for the sopping sounds my thrusts made as I continued my taunts.

  “He’s been talking about fucking you ever since you started working at the tower, sweetheart. I was the one who originally opposed it because I didn’t think you’d be up for the things we’d like to do to you… But tonight, you’ve gone ahead and turned the tables on me, haven’t you? Thinking I was the innocent one, when you’re always walking around so cutely in dresses like the one I ripped from you,” tsking, I continued, “He would have loved you in that dress, such a shame you won’t be able to wear it anymore. But I’ll buy a new one, and then you’ll let him fuck you in it, won’t you, princess? You’ll be our good girl now, huh?” I watched her orgasm hit her right before my eyes, grinning from ear to ear as I kept my movements quick and harsh against the spot that made her try to escape me. Shame, I’d never let her go.

“You’re aching for it, aren’t you, darling? Desperate to feel both of our cocks in your tiny holes, filling you from both ends. Maybe you’ll even take two at once, huh? Can’t wait to play with you until you’re so used to our cocks we’ll just slide right in, princess.” Now my cock was throbbing, desperate to fill her up with more cum so I could just lick it all off again later. So, albeit reluctantly, I got up and grabbed her by the hips, throwing her on the bed before turning her around and raising her fantastic ass up.

“I think I’ll fuck you like this again. Keep grabbing this ass so I can leave my mark in it, just like I left my cum in you.” I slapped it once, watching it bounce as my handprint quickly appeared on her soft skin. Then, I yanked her up by her hair, just so I could whisper in her ear.

“Beg me for my cock, c’mon. Beg me to fill this pretty pussy.” I loved how every little thing I did left her whiny and out of breath, not to mention absolutely dripping on my bed. Perhaps she truly wasn’t prepared for all we’d do to her, but I could see now that leaving her completely mad with desire was more than half of the fun. 

“Fuck me, Captain! Please! Please, I need your cock. I need it so bad.” The pure, unadulterated need in her voice had me groaning, and I finally stopped stroking myself to push her down again before finally spearing her with my cock. It felt like ages since our fuck in the bathroom, and feeling her tight walls struggle to adjust to my thickness was torture in the best possible way.

“I can’t wait to choke you with my cock later,” I warned as I began fucking her. It didn’t take long for her arms to falter, and she fell head first on the mattress, but I didn’t stop, simply adjusted myself so I’d be laying on top of her.

“You say that like you’ll still want me.” I snorted, biting her in warning. Although I did understand where her insecurity came from, the idea of her being nothing more than a one night stand felt so ludicrous, it was impossible to keep myself from laughing as I secured her arms by her head, slowing my movements but deepening them.

“Darling, I didn’t watch Bucky cum over and over again while screaming your name only to fuck you twice and ignore you the next day. Oh no. This is how you’re going to be now, every single day for the rest of your life: filled by me or Bucky or both of us at the same time. So you better get used to the idea, and soon.”

I rested my chin on her back, softly running my fingers through her hair so I could keep it away from her face before I pulled her back for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re ours now, sweetheart.”

[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Two

One month later

Sasha joylessly toyed with the Music Box, opening its lid like a yawning mouth.

Who’d have thunk it? She wondered to herself. This tacky little thing could cause so much calamity?

How ludicrously out of place she looked curled up on King Andrias’ enormous throne, almost like the little girl playing pretend in the driver’s seat of her parents’ car. You’d be forgiven for not knowing she’d just led the swiftest, easiest toppling of a government in this world’s history.

Big blue dummy locked up? Check. The city’s army surrendered? Check. Their toad army less than an hour away? Check. Dimension-skipping Macguffin firmly in their position? Double Check.

Not a bad day’s work for a 13-year-old.

Marcy’s oversized sparrow was tethered to the armrest by his leg. A prize she’d taken for herself so she could cruise around her new kingdom in style. She saw to it he wasn’t under any duress, and the fact he was neck deep in an industrial sized bag of bird feed told her he was plenty comfortable.

Sasha managed a tiny smile as she reached out to run her fingers through the thickness of his coat. She dunked her hand in the bag and offered him an open palm of seeds; he eyed for a moment or two before gingerly pecking at the mound.

Thank Frog no one was around to hear the ‘d’aww’ escape her lips.

Her grandmother was the one she had to thank for her secret admiration of birds. Old lady had been a birdwatcher who ‘treated’ her to regular weekend trips into the forest when she was younger. This was long before her discovery of malls and arcades. Sasha wouldn’t dare admit it to even herself back then, but the ones they spotted together on those dewy spring mornings were beautiful to behold in their natural habitat.

Herons may now be forever ruined for her, but Joe—she thought that was his name—was a mighty impressive specimen. Poor guy somehow found the strength to carry all seven of them to Newtopia, only to nosedive into the moat at the end of the flight.

Definitely had nothing to do with her asking Marcy if she could take the reins in the last stretch. She and Anne were kind enough not to draw attention to it, same as they did the day at summer camp when they discovered her crying into her pillow. They were awesome enough to go along with her story that it was only allergies. She knew she had a true pair of girlfriends that morning.

Thinking about them only soured her mood afresh. She sprinkled the rest of the feed back into the bag and slumped against the backrest, arms petulantly crossed.

Here she was in the crowning moment of her young life and she couldn’t have been more miserable.

Maybe because her friends should have been here to share in this, but no, they had to go and act all noble. What else should she have expected? She always was the only one in the group with the guts. Anne had to be dragged kicking and screaming to ditch school and join her and Marcy in celebrating her birthday. Was it any wonder she had to keep taking control of the situation?

More likely... it was because deep down she knew she didn’t really want this. She certainly believed she did after they dropped that gloryhound newt general down a waterfall and when they successfully rallied the Toad Lords after retrieving Barrel’s Warhammer. Things only started getting complicated when they needed free tickets into Newtopia in the form of her friends.

She hadn’t counted on realising just how much she missed her clumsy, klutzy Marcy. Neither how effectively she and Anne were still able to work together as a team in spite of all the unpleasantness that had transpired between them during their time here, of which there was plenty. The fact that Anne actively encouraged her in taking down that molten toad monster was the rancid cherry atop the sludge sundae. For a while back there, it looked like they might really turn a corner and start afresh. All three of them could have gone home like none of this ever happened. Except by then it was already too late.

What recourse did she have when the Plantars invited them for the world’s most awkward dinner party or when they brought the house down at the Battle of the Bands? Tell Grime and all the toads who’d invested their manpower and futures in her that sorry, she was getting cold feet? There was only one grizzly way that would end both for her and Grime and the best scenario she could imagine involved heads on pikes.

... It didn’t matter anymore. Her friends had picked their path, she’d picked hers. As her mom always said, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it’. Funny how in her short life, she’d heard that line far too many times already.

Once she figured out how the Box worked, she’d send both Anne and Marcy on their merry way and they’d never have to see each other ever again.

Everyone would get what they want.

Good thing then she’d sent her soldiers to ransack Marcy’s room for all her research about Anne’s fateful birthday gift. Girl was a pack rat. She kept notes for every exam and project they were assigned back home. The less said about her laptop jammed with files of anime fanfiction and theories the better.

Plus, it was a good way to try and distract herself.

They came back into the throne room hauling burlap sacks full of parchments and emptied their contents at Sasha’s feet.

Daaang, girl, you've been in the zone.

She scattered them over her lap and the ample free space on the seat. They actually weren’t that hard to follow; colour coordinated with plenty of cutesy kawaii diagrams. Trademark Marbles.

Apparently, it worked a lot like those puzzle boxes Marcy got as gifts from relatives in Hong Kong. All it took was knowing the right sequence of buttons and zip! You can go wherever you want in the cosmos. Just a matter of finding the code for Earth.

‘I’m done listening to you!

I’m done trusting you!’

Sasha scowled, trying to push the thoughts to the back of her mind where they belonged. She shuffled through a couple more pages until she found the one titled in glittery green and blue lettering, ‘HOME’.

Bingo.

‘You’re a horrible person!’

Ignore. Ignore.

Now all she had to do was jot it down on her palm and—

‘AND I AM DONE. BEING. FRIENDS WITH YOU!!’

She stopped. Her shoulders drooped. Then she just threw the page down on the floor and sunk into her seat further than she thought physically possible.

She normally didn’t consider herself that thin skinned a person, but man, that one hurt.

Traces of bitter tears creeped into her eyes.

What am I even doing anymore?

The sound of footsteps on crumpling paper and someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her self-pitying torpor. She fluttered her eyes dry to see Grime standing there awkwardly among the discarded parchments.

The diminutive, one-eyed former Toad Lord was hiding something behind his back. He actually looked pretty embarrassed about it too, which for a battle hardened war vet like Grime was actually kinda adorable in Sasha’s eyes.

“I, uhh, got you something,” he said, whipping out a long rectangular present wrapped in green paper and topped with a luscious red bow. “Had it made especially for this day.”

Now if there was one thing Sasha Waybright couldn’t say no to, it was a gift, especially from a trusted friend. They were the ultimate distraction from the blues and she couldn’t have been sitting upright and tearing into this one any quicker.

“Whaaat? Grimesy, you didn’t!” What she had pulled from the ravaged packaging wielded aloft her head made her gasp. “How’d you know I wanted to duel wield?!”

It was a brand new heron sword. An exquisite green second shortsword that would compliment Ol’ Pink perfectly.

She stared proudly into the smooth steel surface, admiring the craftsmanship. When she noticed the girl staring right back at her, however, her smirk vanished in an instant. The captain of the cheerleaders, the scarred swordswoman, the conqueror of Newtopia, whatever angle she looked at it, she didn’t like what she saw. Unbelievable as it may sound, even the joy of an awesome gift like this was not enough to make everything better.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it? Oh dang it!” Grime slammed his forehead. “I didn’t get a gift receipt!”

“No no, it’s just...” Sasha weighed the blade against her ungloved palm. Talking about these kinds of things was never easy for her. “What if Anne’s right? What if I am a horrible person?”

Grime popped up like a whack-a-mole behind the armrest. “Who cares what she thinks?” he scoffed. “You and I are in charge now, and we get to do whatever we want!”

“That’s the thing... I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she admitted wearily.

For all his years of training at the finest academies, his brutal combat in the colosseum and tactical expertise earned through a lifetime of military service as his forebears before him, this one had Grime stumped. Needless to say, talking about one’s emotions wasn't exactly encouraged during their upbringing in toad culture, so naturally it wasn’t one of his strong suits. Just one of the many things he and Sasha had in common.

“Huh.”

Still, he was a pretty fast thinker and came up with a fairly good idea on the spot.

“Why don’t you help me redecorate this place?” he suggested, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Take your mind off it. Cuz this right here...” He gestured to the cluttered mess in which she’d surrounded herself. “This is definitely not—I’m sorry, can I help you?!”

Both of them turned their heads when it became impossible to ignore Joe’s cone-shaped beak lightly nipping at Grime’s cheek.

“He probably thinks your warts are seeds.”

“For the love of—I knew he was eyeing me up on the ride here! There! Get lost!” Grime scooped up a fistful of feed and flung it over the marble floor, but the winged beast persisted with pecking his face. “Stop it! MY HEAD IS NOT A FEEDER!!”

It took an exceptional effort of willpower for Sasha not to laugh at the sight of her old man being preyed upon by the family pet.

Wow, she thought. Her old man? Was that how she saw Grimesy now? Seriously?

Perhaps up to a point. Okay, considering the options she had for parental figures back home, it wasn’t exactly the highest bar to pass, but it still meant something. Anything.

Who would have guessed this would be how they’d end up, especially given how they started off with her as his prisoner? Sure, it may have taken her helping him and the whole tower not getting turned into heron feed for her to be upgraded to his lieutenant, but they really had come a long way since then. There was a lot more honor and heart to the cranky old toad than she first thought, back when she wrote him off just as another blowhard with power. Now he genuinely considered her his equal both as a friend and comrade in arms. For Sasha, the feeling was mutual. A first for her.

When all was said and done, who else did she have left besides him and vice versa?

What the heck? Let’s tear this place up.

Untethering Joe, she whistled a tweet-tweet and gave the rope a gentle tug to encourage him to follow on their ‘indoor walkies’.

A cursory surveillance of the throne room told her there was a lot of work to be done. If this toad regime was to last a thousand years, the correct decor was an important first step. Thankfully for them, she knew a thing or two about fashion. For starters, there were way too many soft blues and purples. Rust red from top to bottom! She preferred keeping the stained glass windows, but they’d need entirely new designs. Hers truly would naturally feature in most of them, one showcasing her and Grime caving that narwhal worm’s head in with the Warhammer being an absolute must. The snakes coiling the stone pillars weren’t a bad touch, if just a bit too elegant for the whole ‘proud warrior race’ vibe they were going for, but she could still work with them. Now as for the throne, they were gonna have to replace it with something much more imposing. There was that super violent dragon show she and her parents used to watch that had the huge throne made out of swords. She was sure she had a picture somewhere on her phone to use as a reference.

“I’m sorry, what the heck is this?!”

Sasha could only denounce what they were gawking at as the single biggest affrontement to tasteful decorating known to man or amphibian. Yes, worse than inflatable furniture, carpeted bathrooms, beaded curtains, glass block bathroom windows, ‘live, laugh, love’ quotes on walls, rustic hearts, mason jars and nautical accessories all combined under the same inland roof.

Tapestries had their rightful place in a palace’s interior design, but the one sweeping across a section of wall depicting a gentle hearted Andrias sitting down by a lake, surrounded by flowers and lilypads was nothing short of vomit-inducing. Gathered at his feet and scooped up in his protective arms were his wide-eyed, childlike subjects. Even the fish and a lobster were surfacing to bask in their king’s magnanimity. Here the oversized salamander was truly the loving patriarch of everything the light touched. The mawkish display could only be topped off with a rainbow streaking across the sky.

Grime felt his stomach roile. If he ever needed an example to demonstrate the difference between kitschy and downright tacky, this was it.

“Y-y-y-yikes!” he gagged. “This thing’s gotta go!”

Sasha didn’t need a second invite. Besides, what else was Joe going to use to line his nest?

A joint effort tore the offensive piece from its place and it tumbled to the floor in a heap.

Dead silence fell over the room.

Hidden beneath the tapestry was... a mural. Including such a decoration in a throne room was hardly surprising, yet it was what it contained that shocked both the human and toad, so much so that they had to take a moment to recover.

“Woah,” they gasped at once, before starting to analyse what they saw.

The mural was a chaotic collection of nightmarish images painted on a night blue wall. Wild red flames spewing out hordes of beasts and the wreckage of buildings. Mountains of skulls and bones belonging to frogs, toads and newts alike. A flying... spaceship? A castle? Whatever it was meant to be, it firied a white beam up at what was unmistakably the Music Box. Pink, green and blue lightning bolts crackled out of the Box. Mesmerising orange gemstones or, more terrifyingly, eyes leaped off the wall and burned themselves into their minds. The frightening focal point of this one-way ticket to the school therapist’s office? Rising out of the middle of the inferno was the silhouette of a red-eyed, goliath-sized beast, its claws reaching up covetously towards the Box that hung right above its crowned head.

It may as well have been lifted straight from the tattered dream journal of a madfrog.

Any ideas of redecorating the throne room were long gone. Even the revolution they were spearheading suddenly seemed millions of miles away in the face of what they’d just stumbled upon.

Peering her eyes slightly, Sasha was the first to put a face to the shadowy leviathan, and when she did, she had to swallow her heart back down into her chest.

“Is that the king?” she asked, mystified. “With the music box?”

Sweat ran down the side of Grime’s nonplussed face. “If it is… it’s a really good thing we stopped him.”

Neither of them said it aloud, but both understood the situation at once. All this time they thought they’d been playing flipwart while the king played bog jump. Oh, how wrong they’d been. It was beyond anything that even the Toad Lords discussed. They knew that they had to reconvene with them as soon as the armies had reached the gate.

She took a couple steps closer to reexamine the mural more thoroughly, missed details emerging now that the initial shock began to wear off. Circuit board markings—the same inside her dad’s outdated computer when she foolishly dared Marcy if she could take it apart—worked their way around the images, serving as some type of frame. Odd choice for a world that didn’t even have steam engines yet. She also picked up the three small geometric figures standing atop the Box’s lid. An artist she was not, but they looked pretty human-like in design.

But humans did not exist in Amphibia. The three of them were the first of their kind to ever set foot in this dimension.

Weren’t they?

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever before. This Andrias guy had been playing Anne and Marcy for his own ends this whole time, all to get his mitts on the Music Box! What did he plan to do with it? Right now, she still couldn’t say, but it was all bad. Outside of a kickin’ rock band, fire and skulls together were never a good thing!

Even Joe’s feathers were puffing up anxiously against her back. Not turning away from the mural, she raised her hand and patted his risen crest.

“I know, big guy. I don’t like it either.”

Grime’s voice rang urgently in her ears, “Lieutenant! Get over here, quick!!”

Sasha had spun on her heels and sprinted down the room to find Grime standing the wreckage of what used to be a display of armour. He’d evidently acted on a hunch while she’d been preoccupied. Judging by his thunderstruck expression, he’d just discovered something far worse.

“What is iooooh boy!”

This new second mural reminded Sasha a lot of Egyptian hieroglyphs. If there was any room for doubt about the technicolor stick guys, there was none here. Standing tall against an indigo backdrop in a neat row were the outlines of human beings; long gangly appendages, stumpy noses and everything. Some were wearing hooded capes, others were decked out in suits of armour. The couple in the middle looked particularly regal. No prizes for guessing the little wooden box they were holding in their hands, cementing their authority as if it were the globus cruciger.

Faded inscriptions were engraved along the bottom. They were written in a more archaic amphibian dialect, but being a toad of higher education, Grime was able to give translating them a decent shot.

These great beings of magic and might

Travelled from beyond to serve the night

Bow before these children of man

Or know the wrath of the—

“... Wu Clan?” He cocked his one good eye up at her. “Iiiii’m not getting it.”

There it was. Floodlights flashed in Sasha’s head. All colour drained from her face. A million and one thoughts were now firing across her brain at once, threatening to send her into cerebral shutdown.

It was at that moment she knew she’d been played. They all had. She didn’t know whether to be absolutely furious, betrayed or impressed.

Why that conniving, devious little—

That's when they heard the BOOM outside the window.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 4:  Little White Lies

AO3

Ship: ???, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 3083

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey guys! I hopy you’re continuing to enjoy the story so far! I love hearing your feedback especially when it comes to theories you might have about the story.

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The magic of Arcadia runs deep in her roots. Legends tell of deep underground caverns filled with guardians and traps which prove perilous to anyone who dare venture into the deep. It is also said the royal family has their own connections as well. The gods had entrusted the first Kings and Queens to the magic in order to both protect it and the land which it sleeps beneath. Magic then became a part of the family bloodline. It is unknown whether or not it skips generations and no one is exactly sure as to how  it shows itself within different family members. Some believe that this (magic) is also the reason that the Arcadian kingdom became an empire, as it allowed Kings and Queens to emerge victorious from battle time and time again. 

Regardless of whether these tales are fact or fiction, it is undeniable that Arcadia holds power in one form or another. Many sources point to magic, yet none have substantial proof due to the fact that if it does indeed exist the royal family would certainly be rather protective of it. This may also be why they are peculiar about who they let into the family.

Furthermore-

That had been the last of Solomon's summary before he had collapsed onto his parchment. The wax from his candle slowly dripped downwards towards the tin holder below. He functioned incredibly well as a king, but not so much as a human person.

Low knocks on his door roused him, grumbling from his slumber. He stood from his chair, allowing his vertebrae to crack as he did so, and trudged over to the door. 

"Good Morning," Simeon's all too cheerful voice rang out, "You have ink smudged on your face."

"Aren't you a little cheery this morning Simeon?" Solomon asked, attempting to wipe the ink off of his face.

"You've never been a morning person have you? Perhaps it's a good thing the princess ran into me so she wouldn't have to see you like this," Simeon lifted a tray stacked with eggs, pancakes, and a variety of meats and cheeses, "She wanted to bring you breakfast since you weren't at the table. Apparently there's something she wants to speak with you about."

"Something?" Solomon repeated, ignoring the jabs aimed at him and eyeing the food in front of him.

"She wouldn't elaborate, but she did seem nervous. Incredibly so."

"Really now?"

"The entire tray was shaking in her hands."

So her mood hadn't improved from last night. If anything, it seemed to be worse now. Taking the tray from Simeon, Solomon moved to sit on his bed. Yet another problem added to his list. 

No. He shouldn't think of her as a problem.

That wasn't the way to approach this, grumpy or not.

"I should probably seek her out then," he sighed, starting to work on his breakfast, "If she really is that anxious it'll be easy for her to lose her nerve. The sooner we speak, the less time she has to dwell on it."

Simeon stared at him for a moment. Solomon tried to ignore the look on his face. It was one he'd  become familiar with. He only ever saw it when Simeon felt the need to be brutally honest with him.

"Are you sure you should go through with this marriage?"

There it was.

He set down his fork and sighed.

"This family seems, what's the word, unfit for someone like you. They're disjointed and rather chaotic. I'm sure the death of their father doesn't help things, but," Simeon sighed, "I just don't want you stuck in something like this."

Solomon mulled over Simeon's words in his head. Dinner with the family certainly had been quite the event. If Simeon was saying something then he must have also witnessed something. Surely, marrying into the royal family would prove to be more of a commitment than he originally thought. But he couldn't give up on his ambition. Not when he was here. 

"Simeon, we're in Arcadia. Opportunities like this don't just hand themselves out! To give this up would be ludicrous!" Solomon said. Though he still saw the doubt swimming in Simeon's eyes, so he continued, "Besides, if her family is always like this, marrying me will bring her a sense of normalcy."

"Solomon-"

"Am I wrong Simeon?" 

Simeon didn't say a word.

Solomon ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, said silence stretched into the time it took him to walk to his clothes, "Where is Luke?"

"With Lord Diavolo's butler. Barbatos made quite the impression on him yesterday."

"Really?"

"Really."

And Luke had been so set on not trusting any Arcadian. Though, to his credit, Barbatos wasn't Arcadian so to speak. So the child had found a loophole. Sweets and cakes were the way to a child's trust it seemed. 

"Who knows Simeon, you may lose your apprentice to a butler."

"Oh I highly doubt that."

Solomon decided on something a bit more relaxed today. Perhaps if he wasn't wearing his kingly attire Lilith would be more incline to open up around him. He needed her to feel comfortable around him. How were they to make this work otherwise? Solomon refused to live a miserable life. 

He stepped out from behind the curtain in a loose shirt that left part of his chest exposed and black slacks. "Well?" he asked, turning in a circle around himself, "What do you think? Is it enough to make a princess swoon?"

"I do believe so. Maybe even enough for you to start your own little family tonight."

Solomon flinched, "I wouldn't go that far."

"And why not?"

Oh why not? For starters he wouldn't be able to devote time to his research. Solomon was a busy man, he had things he needed to do before he was too old to meet his goals. A child he wasn't prepared for yet would put more than a damper in his plans. Not to mention, stress he wasn't prepared for. Then there had also been Lilith's reaction to the very mention of fertility. 

No.

A child right now wouldn't be the right thing.

Not for him.

"You are aware her brother already seems to despise me right? He already doesn't want me in her room, I don't think I'd live to see another day if I added to his family tonight," he said. It was a partial truth. Not his main concern, but a partial truth nonetheless. 

Simeon only chuckled in response. 

After his trusted friend left to find his apprentice, Solomon went after his fiance. 

He had to wonder if she was hiding from him. He figured he wouldn't run into her right away, but he at least figured that it wouldn't take very long to find her. 

Surely he expected to see someone, anyone, to ask where she might be but every hall was oddly empty.

Just like the streets of Arcadia.

The first person he ran into was none other than Azazel. Well, it was better than running into the crown prince himself. At least Solomon could assume that Azazel didn't despise him.

He appeared to be inspecting each of the thrones, moving them ever so slightly in one direction or another. His fingers caressed the throne in the center, following its every curve and bend. Focus consumed his eyes. Perhaps he was inspecting them for the upcoming coronation? Under his free arm, there was a book. It was thick, leather bound, and from what he could see it also looked worn. 

 Solomon had to wonder if Azazel looked up by chance or if he sensed his presence.

"Solomon, good morning! I was hoping to run into you. You slept well I hope?"

"I did. I'm enjoying a bed to myself while I still can. Thank you Azazel."

He'd have to share one for the rest of his life in a short time. Cool sheets would turn warm and Solomon would lose the comforting familiarity of solitude. He could always have his own room he supposed, but he wasn't sure how his fiance would feel. 

"I do understand what you mean. Speaking of my niece, I do want to apologize for last night."

Solomon tensed. This was already a conversation he didn't want to have.

"I assure you that she's usually polite. We had to work hard to break some of her more stubborn habits, but it appears there was a slip up last night," he frowned and clutched the book tighter, "I had a talk with her this morning, and I can assure you that it will not be happening again. "

"I didn't think she did anything wrong," Solomon's words came out quick and sharp, "In fact, I quite enjoy how she reacted. I would have liked to see her take it farther. After all, she was dragged into the whole thing. It wasn't like she orchestrated it herself." 

Azazel seemed stunned, but he didn't say any more. Instead, he studied Solomon. His fingers drummed against the book in his possession and a low hum left him. 

Solomon had said what he said.

He wasn't going to regret it.

"I see. That certainly isn't something I would have expected you to say," he said, "I would have expected a man with your reputation to be a bit more strict in nature."

Certainly he wasn't implying what Solomon thought he was implying. Strict with Lilith? She was an adult, not a child. 

"She can make her own decisions," Solomon's voice became lower, darker, "I'm not her guardian."

"Whatever she does reflects your reputation as well," Azazel countered in a similar tone, "Keep that in mind when making your decisions."

Solomon hated the way something within him twinged. 

He did want to control how he was remembered.

He wanted to be praised across the ages. 

Azazel's smile returned to his face. "But of course that's something you can do to help curate your own legacy. And speaking of legacies," he held the book out to Solomon, "I've been informed that you took a trip to my nephew's library. I think you and I have similar interests from what I've heard, and I thought you would take interest in this book."

Solomon didn't make a move to take it. 

"It's focused on magic, specifically Arcadian magic, and more in depth than anything else you'll find here. I'm sure such a talented scholar as yourself would thoroughly enjoy it."

It was tempting.

How could he resist? 

Any lead he could get when it came to Arcadia's secrets was one he needed. 

"I was hoping we could chat together at some point over tea? It would be a shame for you to be left out of family secrets when you're about to become family" Azazel slipped his arm to Solomon's back and gazed down at the book in his hands, "I'm sure we'll have plenty to discuss."

When had been the last time Solomon spoke with another scholar? Someone who was on his level of intellect? When had he found the time to do such a thing?

Never.

The truth was that Solomon couldn't remember the last time he'd  had a back and forth conversation. Usually people would listen to him as he rambled on about his studies and interests, but they couldn't contribute to the conversation. It was frustrating and often left Solomon feeling as if he was lacking something. Yes he had knowledge, but he wanted to share it and build on it.

Solomon gripped the cover in his hands.

"I've been meaning to speak with Lilith, but I certainly can start on this book. I'll be able to read enough to discuss with you soon." 

His fingers were itching to start digging into the pages. 

Would it be as enticing as Azazel was promising him?

"Good! Good. Let me know whenever you wish to speak and I shall be waiting for you," Azazel patted his back, and started to leave, "Now I must leave you. I have to speak to Lucifer about the matters of the day. He always has tea with his husband at this hour."

"Wait, do you know where Lilith is?"

"What for? I already said I spoke to her about last night."

"That's not- I was under the impression she wished to speak with me."

Azazel paused for a moment, "Well, I do believe she is busy at the moment."

"With wh-"

"With tasks she must attend to. She also needs to review a few of her lessons, as is evident from last night." 

Solomon thought he'd already made it clear how he felt about last night.

"Now how is that-"

"Listen to me," Azazel snipped, turning his head to look at Solomon, "That innocent looking doe-eyed fiance of yours will bleed you dry and ruin your reputation if you don't watch yourself. Take it from a man who witnessed other reputations ruined. These descendants of my brother will ruin you. They are nowhere near fit to rule alongside the crown prince." 

He turned away from him, "I am their uncle. I think I would know when discipline is the correct form of action."

He had some point Solomon supposed. He had just met the Morningstar family. He knew nothing of them. Yet he couldn't help but want to prove Azazel wrong.

Yes he was a fellow scholar and Solomon would appreciate his company when fit, but that didn't mean he had to agree with him in all of his methods. And Lilith seemed to be one of those things that they'd have to disagree on.

Lilith couldn't be that bad. How could she be that bad?

No one seemed to be able to tell him when her lessons would be done or when he could speak with her.  Not a soul. He thought that he might be able to catch her that day, but he was wrong.

Not that day.

Nor the day after that. 

He kept missing her.

It was driving him insane. 

Maybe he should have gone to breakfast the day she'd said something to Simeon.

He tried to pour himself into his studies, tried to finish his other books so he could get to the one Azazel had entrusted to him. Yet even when he did finish his other books, he couldn't bring himself to open it, not yet.

This one would require all of his focus, and he couldn't focus when he knew that Lilith had some sort of thing to ask of him. 

Something that seemed to have her incredibly nervous.

It was evening, Solomon sat at his desk, pouring over his notes next to dripping candle wax when a knock came from. His door.

Simeon stood slightly behind Lilith who was twiddling her fingers and desperately trying to avoid his gaze.

"They don't know I'm here," her voice was soft, as if she was afraid of speaking any louder lest she summon one of her brothers (or all of them), "I asked your friend if he could take me here… I hope you don't mind."

Solomon shook his head. He wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, but he opened his door a  bit more, "Not at all, I've been looking for you actually. Would you like to come in?"

No sooner had he motioned for her to come in than her eyes widened in horror and her hands quickly shot up. Nervous laughter spilling from her lips, "Oh no. I was um, actually hoping we could go outside the palace. Somewhere a bit more private…"

Solomon looked at Simeon who shrugged his shoulders.  With a snap of his fingers Solomon extinguished the candle and stepped outside of his room.

"Lead the way." 

Leaving Simeon behind, the two made their way outside and away from the town that surrounded the entrance. Solomon supposed he should have been a bit more wary when they left the gates and the wall that surrounded them, but he wasn't. 

He couldn't help but notice how Lilith kept him at an arm's length away. Could she be worried about his intentions? Maybe he had done something to offend her during her bath, or maybe he shouldn't have followed her in at all. In hindsight that was rude of him. Perhaps there was some way he could reassure her and have her feel safe around him. 

Finally, she came to a stop at a small clearing and sat down, still avoiding his gaze.

It was a warm night, and fireflies danced around the two of them bursting into light every now and again.

Solomon sat a little ways down from her, and looked up at the sky.

"I don't know how to start," she said after a moment. 

"Take your time, there's no need to rush," he said, "Besides, I'm not  usually on the best of sleep schedules anyways."

"Stop that."

Solomon furrowed his brow. What? What had he done? He hadn't moved from his position. He hadn't reached out for her.

What had he done to upset her?

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that I did?"

Lilith made a small noise of frustration while wiggling and gripping at her sleeves, "Being so nice to me. And charming and funny and attractive- You're making this harder."

Solomon was stunned, "I? I'm? Excuse me?"

Was she planning on calling off their union? No. No no no. Not when he'd come so far. Not when what he desperately wanted was right in his grasp. He couldn't let her go. He had to find some way to fix it.

Standing up, Lilith started to walk towards the other end of the clearing. She was tense and her body was shaking. Honestly, Solomon thought she looked like a scared rabbit.

A scared rabbit who'd been caught nonetheless.

"You're making this so hard for me."

He almost missed her words.

The snuffles came before the hyperventilating, and that's when Solomon came to her. Had he really been that horrible to petrify her in such a way? 

He could figure that out as he went. For now, he needed to calm her down and figure out how to keep their union together. She was his ticket to Arcadia, to new knowledge. He wasn't going to lose her.

"Lilith, I-" he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

She smacked it away and quickly turned on her heels to look him dead in the eye. A new sense of fire in her eyes.

“I’m not Lilith.”

[travellvogue]

Honeymoon Coast- Anyone You Like

it’s a long one, and one of my faves. i hope you love it (wordcount: 4.1k)

He’s trying his best not to stare, the dress you had on complimenting your skin tone so well. Body glowing under the rays of the sun, his own little ray of sunshine sat right next to him. The delicate pattern of his thumb brushing strokes back and forth over your hand painted a perfect picture of tranquility. 

“Y’know, the view over there is better” you whisper gently with a side smile, nodding towards the staggered chocolate box buildings, painted in an array of blush pinks, dusty yellows and cotton creams. The rolling waves a vibrant blue against the calmness of the sand. 

“No it’s not” he answers so effortlessly, a flirtatious wink making you giggle and blush under his compliment. “My views much better” he hums, twisting his fork around a clump of spaghetti, scooping it into his mouth, tongue wiggling around to beckon the stray piece that flops out of his mouth. 

Two glasses of white wine twinkle under the sunlight, tracing your finger round the rim of the glass over and over again, picking at the olives in your salad, regretting eating all the mozzarella balls already. Knowing you should have gone for the pizza, but your breakfast of croissants and fresh fruit filled you up this morning. Smiling at the recent memory, how you laid in bed, tangled under the crisp white sheets, his naked body next to yours feeding you strawberries and chunks of melon, giggling when he leaned forward to kitten lick the fruit juices off your chin that had dropped down from your mouth. 

It was the perfect start to your honeymoon. He’d remembered how you told him you’d love to get married in Italy and travel around after your wedding day. So he made it happen. First stop was Positano, where the two of you sat right now. A quaint little café tucked away in the peaks of the hillsides, a lemon tree hanging over your heads shading you from the afternoon sun. The calming noise of the waves rippling into shore partnered with the locals deep in conversation. Fresh plates of pasta and pizza filling the air with the most gorgeous aroma. The strings of a guitar being strung somewhere in the far distance playing a relaxing tune. 

Yet, all you could focus on was him, how his hair was supporting natural highlights from the sun's rays, the tip of his nose slightly sunburn despite you packing factor fifty on his face every morning, “stops you getting wrinkles” you’d tell him every time he complained about the stickiness. He’s dressed in loose navy swim shorts, the toggles hanging unevenly, a thin white shirt thrown over his sun kissed torso, the top four buttons undone so you can admire his muscular chest, dark rimmed Ray-Ban glasses pushed onto his hair, droplets of salt water staining the lenses. 

“What time is the boat ride?” you ask gently, leaning over the small circular table, stabbing your fork into his bowl of pasta, helping yourself to a mouthful as he giggles, well aware that the salad just wasn’t cutting it for you. He’d planned a boat ride for the two of you today, something you’d both desperately been looking forward to since you arrived in this perfect location. Wanting to sail around and explore the surrounding beauty. 

“Two o’clock I believe madam” he answers playfully, tapping the screen of his phone to check the time. Quarter to twelve, plenty of time to head down to the dock. With a few more mouthfuls of food the two of you were stuffed. Laid back on the wooden chairs comparing your food babies. Laughing when the waiter comes over and gives you an odd glance. 

“No don’t pay baby, my treat” you insist, grabbing at his hand before he puts his card on the table, unable to hide your smile when you feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against your palm. It was yet to sink in that you officially shared the same surname as him, for years he’d introduced you to people as ‘the missus or ‘my girlfriend’, now you held the title of his wife loud and proud. 

The wedding had been very small, only fifty guests. An abundance of florals, pampas grass and bubbling champagne, and as the sun went down you fell asleep to the sound of waves greeting the Italian sand. 

As you snap out of your daydream he’s already paying for lunch, giggling when you give him a harsh stare, unable to stay mad at that dimpled smile for long. He takes your hand and leads you out of the cafe, waving goodbye with a joyful ‘grazie’ to the staff. The warm air hits you instantly, a muggy breeze fluttering the bottom of your dress. Now away from the breeze of the sea front the temperature had seemed to pick up, his hand growing clammy in yours. Arms swinging back and forth in unison as you carefully walk down the steep roads towards the peninsular, the uneven cobbled roads under your sandals let you feel every rock and grain of transported sand from the nearby beach.

“I know we’ve just eaten but…” he holds his hand up to point at the shop you’re approaching. A quiet bakery hidden between a grand hotel and a small beach shop selling the usual ‘tourist tat’ as he likes to call it. The smell of warm freshly-baked bread billowing from its grand wooden doors, painted neatly with golden details. Newly bloomed bougainvillea flowers creating an arch over the entrance. 

“How can I say no to that?” you smile. Squeezing his hand once, twice, three times. Your sandals slap against the tiled floor of the bakery, overwhelmed with the amount of choice, smiling widely when you’re greeted with a friendly “Ciao!”. The two of you opting for a baguette and a loaf of ciabatta. He stands behind you, arms wrapped around your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek whilst you wait for them to package it up in crinkly brown paper bags. And once again he uses his rusty Italian skills to bid them farewell. Reaching for your hand instinctively and squeezing it gently, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He’d never felt happiness like this- of course on your wedding day his happiness was unmatchable- but the sense of complete contentment and tranquility was so overwhelming.

***

“Where are you taking me?” you giggle, holding his hand tightly as he leads you along a rickety old boat dock, the wood swaying slightly with each gentle wave that washed into shore. “Was this your plan all along?” you laugh, “To marry me and then drown me in the sea” he chuckles and shakes his head at your ludicrous imagination.

“You gotta stop watching all those murder mystery youtubers babe” a blush appears on your cheeks at his words, remembering how you made him watch endless videos with you on the plane journey out here, secretly you knew he was enjoying himself, the way he gripped your leg as he told you a theory he had about where one of the missing people might be. “We’re here baby” the snap back into reality couldn’t be more perfect, almost feeling like you were dreaming as he holds an arm out to beckon to the large yacht docked up in front of the both of you. The sea twinkling around it and the staff giving you a welcoming wave, offering you a hand to help you onto deck. 

“Are you serious?” you breath, walking onto the ship. When he mentioned a boat ride this morning you didn’t realise he meant a million pound yacht, something for someone in your position to just drool over as you pointed them out whilst your feet stayed firmly on the sand of the beach. But now your feet touched the decking, every step becoming completely overwhelming, not only was there two floors to this boat, there were several seating areas, your very own private chef, and a hot tub at the very front, giving you the perfect views of the bobbing ocean. “My love, this is insane! I thought you meant like… a little dingy” you giggle, pinching your fingers together to explain how small you thought the boat would be. All he can do is smile and shake his head. Something he’d always loved about you was the way you always stayed so grounded, cherishing every penny of your own and of his, never wanting any gifts or treats- despite him buying you quite a few over the years- you were happy with a chinese takeaway and a movie night, never expecting anything from him other then love and honesty, money would, and could, never buy your emotions. So a yacht, this was certainly something you’d never dreamed off. 

“You deserve this, my wife” he whispers gently, coming up behind you as you look out to the sea, the cool breeze blowing a strand of your hair against his jawline, gently leaning back against him, feeling his arms wrap tightly around you. The way he referred to you as his wife still hadn’t sunk in yet, the butterflies still coming to life every time he used your new title. “Plus…” his voice drops to a whisper, leaning in closer so his lips brush against your ear, “you’ve always wanted to have sex on a boat” despite not seeing his face you can picture his smug smirk, of course there was a deeper reasoning to such an extravagant choice of boat. You shake your head playfully and push against him, probably not the best choice of action because he can’t help but let out a little groan at the feeling of your ass brushing against his crotch. 

He manages to control himself for the majority of the boat road, smiling proudly as he watches you take pictures of the beautiful settings you sail past. Your beauty still shocked him, even after years together and a big diamond ring on your finger, watching your hair blow in the salty air, sun kissed skin and lips painted with your strawberry lip balm- that quite frankly he can’t stop himself from wanting to taste- he finds that he’s falling in love with you even more in that moment. He’d never realised home could be a person until you held him in your arms. 

“We should come here every year” you whisper gently, cuddled up on the sofa-like sunbeds at the top of the boat, the air slightly cooler now the sun was setting, half empty plates of fruit and nibbled at bread resting beside you, the sea still holding the same glimmer and shine it had this morning, reflecting the orange and pink hues off the waves. You’d thrown one of his shirts over your bikini, the thin white material rustling in the breeze, tickling at your bare skin, your hair fluttering into his face every so often, wafting the familiar smell of your apple scented shampoo into his nostrils. 

He only hums in response, leaning in to take the chunk of pineapple you were offering him into his mouth, too caught up in absorbing the beauty in front of him, with both the view of you and the never ending waves it was an overwhelming sense of content and happiness. “You don't want to?” you ask gently, not convinced by his response. A frown and a quick shake of the head convinces you a bit more.

“Of course I do” he whispers, lips pressed to your temple. “But I also wanna make love to you all over the world” he smirks, watching you playfully roll your eyes and desperately try to hide your giddy smile. 

His fingers trace the side of your jaw, angling your head so he’s got perfect access to your lips, the moon seeming to match the mood of the moment, the sky becoming a thick pink, waves gently crashing against the boat, rocking your bodies unwilling against the sun beds. “Why don’t we start now?” you almost whimper against his lips, trying not to sound like a desperate beg but it was hard when all you’d been thinking about since stepping foot on the boat was the thought of him fucking you to the view of the rolling waves. 

“Hmm right here?” he smirks, “I knew you were naughty but to have me fuck you whilst anyone could see… my wife’s a little minx huh?” he teases, brushing his hand down the side of your body, already getting to work with pushing off the oversized shirt you had on, the material falling off one shoulder, exposing your bare skin for his lips to attack. 

“Everyone’s below deck” you whimper, aware that he wouldn’t care either way, there was no way he wasn’t going to make love to you on a private yacht to the view of the Amalfi Coast- no one could pass up that opportunity. “Plus… you’re little friend seems to like the idea” your thigh pushes against the growing bulge of his shorts. Your giggle splinters off into a moan as he bucks against you, continuing to suck and nip at the skin of your neck. The wet patch in your bikini bottoms continues to grow, pawing at him desperately for something more. 

“Open up” he taps two fingers at your lips, doing as you’re told you part your swollen lips to welcome him, he watches your hooded lustful eyes whilst you suck on his digits, tongue skillfully twisting and licking. His other hand cupping firmly at the mound of your ass, helping you rub yourself against his thigh, slowly moving towards the front of your body. “Take ‘em off” he instructs, pushing at the material of your bikini bottoms.

“So demanding” you tease, humming around his fingers, a trail of spit connecting your lips to them as he pulls away, watching intently as you shuffle out of your bikini, pussy growing sensitive at the exposure to the cool air. Of course he wastes no time pushing his fingers against your entrance, skillfully tracing both digits along your folds, gathering your arousal at the tips. “Baby please” you whine, not wanting to be teased today, not when someone could walk up to the top deck and interrupt the moment. You cling on to him tighter, feeling his fingers push into you, slow and steady, your tight wet walls snug around him. You seem to clench around him in time with the waves rocking against the boat, the cool breeze helping control your body temperature, not wanting to leave sweat marks along the sun beds to give away what the two of you are up to. 

“Wetter than the ocean” he teases, scissoring his fingers inside of you, your arousal dripping against him, curling his digits upwards to brush against the spot inside you that has you squirming against him. He rests his forehead against yours, noting how your body heat radiates onto his skin, your cheeks flushed, steady whimpers falling from your lips. “Moan for me baby, let the whole of Italy know who’s making you feel good”.

An orgasm was quickly approaching you, a pinch-me moment overtaking your body as you look out to the shore line, sandy beach only entertaining the last few remaining people of the night, the orange glow of lights gleaming through the windows of the chocolate box houses, praying none of them are owners of binoculars or take a keen interest in boats- because they’d certainly get an eyeful if they wanted to examine the one you were currently laid on (or getting laid on to be more accurate.) 

“Cum on my hand” his words seem to resonate with you, your body obeying to his instructions. Legs becoming jelly-like as the knot bursts in your stomach. And the moan that was trapped in your throat pings into the air of the night, loud enough to make the staff downstairs freeze and listen out for a call, wondering if you were calling them for extra champaign. All you needed right now was right in front of you, poking you in the thigh. Whimpering at the empty feeling when he pulls his fingers out of you, clenching around the vacancy. 

The wind picks up a little, brushing through your hair and rocking the boat to the right. Both of you bracing for the captain to rush to the top deck, blowing your cover. Giggling a little when the boat straightens out and the rocking stops. “Fucking cockblock” he groans, making you laugh, tucking your head into his neck. Your blushed cheeks would certainly blow your cover. “Gotta be quick” he whispers, “Wanna fuck on the Mediterranean sea”. The ocean seems to talk back to him, a large splash and spraying droplets of water falling against your calves. 

He leans forward to catch your lips in a messy, clumsy kiss. Pushing himself out of his swim shorts, cock slapping against his toned torso, freckled tanned skin pressed against yours, your fingers drawing little hearts against his back, the outlines seeming to freeze when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your entrance, easily slicked with your arousal that stills lingers from your previous orgasm. His body hovers over yours, slightly leaning to the side to both keep his balance and to try and make it less obvious that he’s making love to you on top of a boat. Your hand wraps around his length, guiding him in the right position as if he hasn’t done it thousands of times before, but he can’t complain at the sight, something so beautiful yet filthy about your wedding ring sparkling in the light as you pump your hand up and down his cock. “That ring looks great whilst you wank me off” he moans, smirking when you let out a shocked gasp at his vulgar words. 

He can’t quite believe his luck when he sinks into you, in that moment he thanks god, his lucky stars, and everything in between. His beautiful wife, the love of his life, moaning his name in the middle of the Mediterranean sea. A dream brought to life. “God you feel good... every- fuck- everytime” he praises the feel of your tight walls wrapped around him, warm and wet, just like how they always are for him. No time is wasted, his hips moving in a perfect rhythm, you’re quite impressed that he can keep himself balanced with the boat swaying in unison with the waves. His cock was enough to make you a moaning mess, reminding yourself you can’t be too loud due to the company downstairs. Instead sinking your teeth into his shoulder to try and silence yourself. 

Pain is always something that turned him on, having a kink for anything involving spanking, choking, and hair pulling. So it’s no surprise when he throws his head back in ecstasy at the feel of your teeth grazing his skin, certain he’ll have a mark in the morning to remember the moment. It’s like you’ve read his mind, fingers pushing through his hair and grabbing a fistful, tugging at the roots with each thrust. With the pent up feeling of you wrapped around him as well as the added nipping and tugging he could nearly cum right there and then. But he’s learnt over the years of being together how to control himself, wanting to elongate sex with you, rinsing every second of being inside you.  

“Cum for me again baby, give me another one” he encourages, watching you feebly mutter something inaudible, pleasure messing with your words, sweat growing on your collar bone, rising up the skin of your neck and painting your cheeks a darker red. The rapid clenching of your pussy tells him you’re approaching your second high, thighs slick with arousal, painting his skin damp with each thrust. “You’re boobs look great” he says under his breath, hearing you let out a little giggle and whisper “so romantic”, quick to change that when his mouth trails down to your right boob, leaving a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, nipping one of your nipples between his teeth and grazing it gently. Against your boobs you hear him whisper; “you’re close, I can feel it baby, c’mon” with three harsh thrusts, shaking your body with each one. 

And just like that, with a loud whine and a cry you’re giving in to his words, pussy convulsing around his length, squeezing him towards his own high. His hand clamps over your mouth before you can scream his name for the whole of Positano to know, surely by now the captain and the staff must have an inkling about what you’re up to, they’d seen the eyes you were giving each other all day. The little slaps to your ass from him as you prepared to dive into the emerald sea, or how you sat on his lap whilst he fed you watermelon, his tongue licking playfully at your chin to capture the juices. 

Now his favourite juices soaked his cock, his baby scratching lines into his back- far less innocent than the hearts that were drawn on his skin earlier. Your bikini bottoms on the floor and your bikini top flooded by your boobs and they hang over the edge of the material. In that moment you’re both so free, nature housing such pleasure. 

He’s not far behind you, he couldn’t possibly be when your pussy grips at him with such force, dirty words encouraging him to coat your walls with his seed. “Cum for me hubby” it’s more the new title that does it for him. This was his life, married to a filthy little goddess, making love to you where anyone could see, yet in this moment it was only you and him- just like it’ll be for the rest of your lives. 

He frantically slaps his hips against yours, the overwhelming sensation to cum washes over him quickly, feeling the fire in this pit of his tummy grow bigger then it ever had before. “I’m gonna cum baby” he chokes out, the grip on yur hips becoming tighter, thrusting into you as he rapidly chases his high, “it’s gonna be so much, it’s- fuck- oh god” you can’t seem to string a sentence together, stuttering and shaking with each word. 

“Fill me up baby” you whisper, scratching at the back of his neck, “Drown me” you can’t help but let out a little giggle, “pardon the pun” he scoffs at your attempt of linking being on the sea with your pussy ‘drowning’ in his cum. Trying to hide his smirk, tongue licking his top teeth as he shakes his head. 

“Still making stupid puns whilst I’m balls deep inside ya… I married an idiot” he laughs, pulling you even closer to him, soon to choke on his own moans, hitting his high and spilling his seed sloppily inside of you, the sensation making your walls clench, draining him of every last drop of cum he can give you. Riding out his high with a few more lazy thrusts, pushing his cum deep into you, his rhythm faltered by the rocking boat, nearly losing balance when his wobbly legs push himself off of you. 

Now you’re a sight to behold, breathless, glowing with that freshly fucked look. Eyes watching him intently as he pushes himself into his shorts and lazily looks for your bottoms, knowing if his cum dripped out of you there would be a hefty fee for leaving ‘bodily fluids’ on the sun lounger. 

***

The stars start to poke through the dark sky, sailing back to shore in a comfortable silence, chests still rising and falling in a quicker manner then usual, regaining the normality of not being caught up in each other's bodies. His finger plays with your ring, yours plays with his. How a simple gold band could look so flawless on his hand. 

As the waves say one last goodbye, now twinkling under the light of the moon, the boat moors into the dock. Hand in hand walking back to land, still feel the rocking sensation as you get used to the solid floor beneath your feet.

“So…” he whispers, aware it’s late at night, a buzz of nightlife coming from the restaurant nearby, your arms swinging in unison.  “This time again next year?” he smirks, this certainly couldn’t be a one time thing.

 “See you then” you wink playfully, voice laced with sleep, ready to head back to the villa and be held in his arms for the rest of the night.

[holylulusworld]

Surrogate Alpha

Summary: Sam and you were best friends. Since he found a girlfriend you feel left outside alone and his brother jumps in.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x OFC Katie

Warnings: angst, language, scenting, mating, claiming, knotting, true mates, smut, unprotected/protected sex, cuddling & snuggling

A/N: The story is set in an AU.

“What do you mean with I can’t come with you to the book signing? We waited for months and made plans, Sam! I got a day off only to accompany you and now you are telling me you’ve got no time – again by the way!” Angrily pacing around your best friend’s office, you glare at the picture of his new girlfriend.

“Katie wants to come with me, Y/N. I am sorry.” Huffing you grab your bag. “Y/N…please…”

“You know Sam. For years we were best friends. I was the one helping you after Jess died in the fire. It was me keeping you going and now you push me away as Katie came to your life…” Sniffling you hold back the tears.

“You have to understand that Katie is my girlfriend and that she’s more important right now. I try to build up a relationship with my Omega.” Sam gets up, tries to touch your cheek but you flinch away.

“I am not jealous or shit, Sam. You are like a brother to me, not an Alpha I want to bang. It’s just that she always finds a way to manipulate you and makes sure we do not spend time any longer. She could’ve come with us, but no…” Pointing toward the book you place onto Sam’s desk. “She insists that I can’t go…”

“Y/N, do this for me…please.” Sam tries, but this time you will not give in. “No, Sam. He is my favorite author and I will not miss the chance to get his autograph.” Lips pursed you grab your book.

“Take the girl who is barely able to read her Cosmopolitan and try to talk to him about his latest theory. Fuck you, Sam! I’ll go alone and have fun…”

Storming out of Sam’s office you are barely able to see anything due to the tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Whoa…watch your steps…” Dean barks as you brush past him, not reacting to his words.

“Fuck you too, Winchester…” Running toward the exit you feel a hand grasping your arm. At first, you believe it’s Sam, but you meet angry green eyes and your heart drops.

“No swear words, Y/N.” Sniffling you wiggle in Dean’s grip as he looks at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I assume Sam won’t go with you. Did she make it again?” Voice unusually soft for his grumpy personality Dean wipes your tears away with his thumb.

“He said Katie doesn’t want me to go at all, Dean. Can you believe this? He’s my favorite author and that woman wants to forbid me to go and get an autograph.” Grumbling you press the book to your chest. “I’ll go, she can fuck her attitude…”

“I am sorry, Sweetheart.” Blinking a few times, you search Dean’s face. He never was friendly to you, always teased Sam for being your friend, even called his brother your surrogate Alpha. “He’s a fool, Y/N. I got no clue what happened to Sam, but that woman doesn’t bring his best side out.”

“Dean…save it. It’s not as if I was his best friend since childhood or anything. I get that Katie was jealous in the beginning, but Sam and I are only friends, not only he’s like a brother to me but I don’t want to mate with him.”

Humming Dean brushes his thumb over your skin. His eyes search your face and he takes a deep breath. “I could go with you. I have a day off and wanted to buy a book.”

“You want to go with me?” Ludicrous glancing at Dean you press the book closer to your chest. “Did Sam ask you to be nice to me? Is that his way to get rid of me?”

“Sweetheart…” That nickname again. Dean never called you anything but brat or kid. Now he uses the nickname like he’s used to doing it. “Let me go with you. We can piss off Katie if we do so.” Leaning closer Dean smirks. “She hates me too.”

“Dude! She hates you? But you are Sammy’s brother and a guy…” Trailing off you glance at Dean’s mating gland, swallowing as you can smell his scent getting stronger.

“Come on, let’s go and tease her a bit. I’d like to show her we will not give Sam up.” Dean steps closer, rubbing his hands over your shoulders.

“Why not…”

“Awesome. Let’s grab my jacket and I’ll give you a ride.” Excitedly Dean pecks your cheek and you freeze as he sniffs at our hair for a moment.

“We have to kill three hours, Dean.” Nodding the tall Alpha slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you toward his office.

“How about lunch and we can talk about Katie being a bitch and crap.”

Wondering why Dean is suddenly that friendly you glance at him while he tells you about his car and that he’ll make sure that you will try his favorite burger…

“So…” Poking the burger with your index finger you smirk. “Will this thing kill me, or will I survive?”

“It’s delicious and not that bad if you only eat it once per month,” Dean exclaims as you glance at the burger again. “Come on at least try it, Y/N. I swear you will not regret it.”

“Yeah, as you will need a month to digest that thing. It’s a monster, Dean.” Snickering you take a bite of the burger and the taste lets a moan slip out of your mouth. “God…fuck me…”

“Same…” Dean’s eyes darken, and he can’t stop watching you nibble at the burger. Moans along with gasps leave your lips and the Alpha is close to cream his pants. “You eat like you’re having sex…”

“Nope, Dean. During sex I am way…” Stopping your tongue you look at Dean with wide eyes as you can see his Adam’s apple bobble and the twitch of his hands.

“Fuck me, you smell like heaven.” Lunging forward Dean grasps for you, presses his lips to yours while you try to process your best friends’ brother just kissed you. “I want you for so long…”

“What…oh…” His lips and tongue wander to your mating gland, lick it repeatedly and you start to whimper as it feels better than anything before. “I…oh…fuck, Dean…”

“That’s right, Sweetheart. I’ll make you feel good right now.” Pressing you onto the couch in his office Dean teases your neck with his lips while one hand wanders to your sex. He’s purring low in his throat feeling your wet panties welcome his fingers.

“Dean…this is…god…” Panting you grasp for his thighs, whine low as he slips his fingertips into your welcoming heat. “Anyone could walk in on us, Alpha…”

“I give not a single fuck, Omega. I waited way too long for Sammy to make a move and now I’ll take what I want, and I want you…” Not giving a fuck either you spread your legs, let Dean work his fingers into your tight cunt.

“You have one dirty mouth, Dean.” Smirking the Alpha pecks your lips, slides his tongue over your mouth before he claims it roughly.

“I can do better things than dirty talk with this tongue.” Eagerly guiding his free hand to your chest, you purr as Dean cups one tit to knead it gently.

“Going to eat you out next time but right now I need to be inside of you, Y/N.”

“Get out of your pants first, dude. I want to see your dick before I let you knot me.” Panting Dean can barely think straight. Not that close to his goal - to be finally able to mark you as his.

“I’ll mark your neck, Y/N. I will make you mine if you do not stop me.” Humming you slide your hands up his chest, smirking as you can see his face contort in pleasure.

“About time you get your head out of your ass. I flirted said body part off for years. Now get out of those pants…” Impatiently tugging at Dean’s dress pants you snarl as he slaps your hands away.

“We shouldn’t…not here…” Your eyes narrow and you grab his jacket to bring Dean close to your face.

“You will get out of those pants and give me that knot or I’ll bite you.”

“Fuck, Sweetheart. Talk dirty to me…more…”

“Do you think our trick will work out?” Nudging Sam’s side Katie looks toward Dean’s office. “I hate being the bitch in this story.”

“It was the only way for Dean to finally make a move. He’s pining for Y/N way too long and she almost drools all over my big brother. Blind idiots…”

“We will explain we tricked them later…”

“Fuck me, that’s a cock,” purring you crawl up Dean’s body to nip at his neck. “I want you inside of me Alpha.”

“If you are good for me, I’ll give it to you with pleasure…” Your teeth sink into his shoulder and Dean needs all his strength to drag you off him as you started to bite and scratch him.

“I want it…”

“You smell intoxicating, Omega.” Bringing you on hands and knees Dean slaps your ass, chuckling as you yelp. “Be good for me. I will take care of this tight pussy right now…”

“Stop talking and…” Mouth hanging open in a silently scream you feel Dean slide into you with one forceful thrust.

There’s no hesitation, not holding back any longer. He sets a brutal pace, presses your face into the couch to make you feel his dominance.

“That’s a good pussy. Tight, wet and all mine.” Snarling Dean watches his cock disappear in your slit. “I dreamed of having you like this at least once per week, Sweetheart and reality is even better.”

“Dean…oh shit…you…” Digging your fingertips into the couch you push back onto the tall Alpha. “Condom…”

“You’re mine and I’ll get your round.” Grunts leave Dean’s lips as you try to push him off you. “Take it, Baby Girl…”

“You can’t get me round, Winchester!”

“Fine…wait…” Pissed Dean pulls out to fetch a condom from his pocket. “Next time I’ll have you bare!”

“Dream on, Alpha. Now get this thing on and keep on going!” Fighting with the condom as he’s too far gone Dean grunts, curses and yells before he finally can slide back into you.

“Fuck…” Rutting into you Dean presses moans and cries out of you. There’s something primal he manages to lay bare as he slides into you as if he belongs inside of you.

“You look so good stuffed with my dick. I could watch you writhe on my knot all day long.” He’s a panting mess, sweats like never before as he can feel your body is ready to give in to the pleasure.

“Alpha…that’s…” You bite the pillow, muffle your cries as you feel his knot pop open to cage Dean inside your body.

“Love the way you cum for me. This is mine…” Pinned underneath Dean’s tall frame you tilt your head, invite him to mark your neck but Dean only pecks it and you whine disappointed.

“I’ll mark when we are sure we belong together, not in a haze on my couch after we fucked for the first time. I’ll be a gentleman…” Snickering at Dean’s words you close your eyes as you brush your hair away. “Don’t make me…”

His lips nibble at your neck and you smirk as you feel his teeth graze your mating gland. Dean still hesitates, purring against you he wraps his arms around your body.

“You know, my parents mated after knowing each other for like five hours.” Humming Dean looks at the spot he desperately wants to mark. “They are happy for over twenty years now, Dean.”

“God, can you not force me to lose control. Do you have the slightest idea how hard I have to fight my instinct to not mark you?”

“Do it. Mark me, Alpha. I want to be yours for five fucking years…” Pain floats your body, followed by unknown pleasure as Dean’s teeth won’t let go of your neck.

He’s growling against you, rutting his knot into you with all his strength and you cry out, screaming his name before you feel calm and warm. “Alpha…”

“My Omega…”

“Did they just…” Shuddering Sam watches Katie pressing one ear against Dean’s door. She’s nodding at her boyfriend, a big grin plastered all over here face. “We have to disinfect the whole office.”

“Don’t be such a prude, Sam. You know, he claimed her, and she claimed him…”

Dumbfounded Sam presses his ear to the door too, listening to your purrs and Dean’s voice soothing your discomfort.

“That fast?” Humming Katie purrs as you snarl into Dean’s direction. “I mean…fuck…”

“Feels warm and familiar.” Resting your head onto Dean’s chest you glance at the mark at his neck. “You look good with my mark. This will keep the needy Omega’s away.”

“Did you only mark me to make sure no one tries to get into my pants?” Nudging your side Dean smirks as you nod eagerly.

“You’re mine, Alpha. No one can touch you.” Satisfied with your handy work, your mark at his neck, you close your eyes for a moment.

“So…the book signing still a thing?” Chuckling you play with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, shaking your head. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“I have a few ideas including you, me and a bed…”

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[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Eighteen

length: 2k

taglist: @hewwo-from-the-other-side

prophecy masterlist

In all his years of being the king, Hongjoong had never once been this stressed. Not even when San and Mingi had gotten into a massive argument and refused to speak to each other one week before last year's annual ball.

But now, as he paces back and forth in his study, he's so stressed he thinks his head might explode.

"Why don't we just explain to them calmly?" Seonghwa asks sheepishly. "Invite them here and tell them that they have the wrong end of the stick!"

"Are you crazy!?" Hongjoong bursts, slamming his palms down on his magnificant desk so loudly it makes the kingsguard jump back in shock. "You want to invite them directly into the heart of a kingdom they have already have reasons to attack?"

"Well... I-I thought it would prove to them that there was no magic here-"

"But there is magic here, Seonghwa."

"You said there wasn't!"

"I lied." Hongjoong casually brushes off his comment with a wave of his hand before he starts to pace again. "With the mage, the elf and the girl here there is undoubtedly some form of magical presence. Although I thought it was detectable only when using spells."

"Then what are we going to do?" Seonghwa throws himself dramatically into the chair on the other side of the king's desk.

It's been almost a full week since the ball, since Seonghwa nervously informed Hongjoong of Seventeen's intentions. It had been almost a full week, and they were still no closer to a conclusion.

"We do nothing." Hongjoong says suddenly, with a shrug. "We tell them that they're being ridiculous, and that there's no need for secondary actions."

"And what if they don't believe us?"

Hongjoong stays silent, turning his back to Seonghwa and staring at the lit fire behind him.

"Hongjoong? What if they don't believe us?"

The king clears his throat, and turns back around to face his best, and possibly only true friend.

"Go and tell everyone else what has been happening."

"Hongjo-"

"Now, Seonghwa."

-----

"I just don't understand it." Yeosang sighs, having quietly listened to the kingsguard relay the recent events to him. "Wooyoung and I haven't used any magic since we got here, who could they possibly be detecting?"

You sit silently behind him, chewing nervously on your bottom lip as you ignore the guilt creeping into your blood.

"Neither do I, but that means we have nothing to worry about. Seventeen may just be looking to pick a fight, I hear the politics in their kingdom has been rather shaky recently." Seonghwa replies, running a hand though his unusally messy hair.

"Shaky?" you echo.

"Yes, the thirteen heads of the state have been arguing as of late, or so I hear."

"Imagine splitting the leadership of the kingdom between thirteen figures." Wooyoung scoffs. "A ludicrous idea if you ask me."

"Thirteen? Then why is the kingdom called Seventeen?" you ask.

Yeosang rolls his eyes, as if he's been asked the same question over a million times today already.

"Nobody really knows," he begins to explain. "The main theory is that the kingdom was originally founded by seventeen families, but four of the bloodlines fizzled out over time."

"Murdered by the remaining thirteen, you mean."

"Or that."

Yeosang, Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to talk amoungst themselves about the ups and downs of the Seventeen history, while you turn your gaze to stare out of the stained-glass window of the study. Rain, falling rapidly, slaps against the glass, reverberating throughout the room.

How easy it would be, to be water.

To flow effortlessly, to be undying and without a care in the world.

Instead you were human, burdened with the responsibilities of knowledge and living.

"Are you okay, my love?" Wooyoung sits down beside you, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your back soothingly. "You've been awfully quiet."

You turn to look at him slightly, your heart doing somersaults at the sight of his amethyst eyes looking at you softly, burning with care and affection. You notice too, that Yeosang and Seonghwa had left the room.

You want to tell him everything, you truly do. From meeting with Yunho and stealing his book, to practising magic in secret and possibly getting everyone you care about in serious danger.

But the way he looks at you...

Why would you ruin that?

"I'm fine." you lie through a fake smile, guilt piercing through your heart when he nods and kisses the top of your head.

"There was one thing though, now you mention it."

"Of course." He looks upon you with such intrigue, so much genuine interest in what you have to say. "Can I help?"

"I found a book in the library the other day, it was about magic, I think, I just wanted to ask you about it."

"Well, Yeosang knows more about magic than I do, Iris. Why don't you ask him?"

"Because it was about elven magic..."

There's a flash of something behind Wooyoung's eyes, something that you caught, but something unintelligable.

"I see. What was it?"

"There was just a bunch of spells written in it, written on the back cover by somebody else, one of them said something like feinn ichaer and another one-"

Wooyoung's body shoots up from beside you, darting up so quickly he almost knocks you over in the process.

"What did you just say?" he demands.

"Feinn ichaer?" you repeat. "Aevon bleidd was another-"

"Stop!" he practically screams at you. "S-stop saying those words!"

"Why? What do they mean?"

"Where is that book?" Wooyoung glares at you, angry, crimson fire bursting through the usual calm lilac of his eyes and for the first time since meeting him, you're scared.

"I-I do-"

"Where is it, Iris?!"

"I don't know!" you cry. "I just left it somewhere and it got tidied up!"

The elf exhales shakily, running his hand over his face and keeping them over his eyes for a few moments.

"Feinn ichaer, Aevon bleidd" the elf says after some time.

So that's how you say them.

"Sun blood and river wolf. They are two of the most dangerous spells in the realm of dark magic. In the hands of corrupt people, well, you could conquer entire planets with them."

"What does it feel like? When you cast them, I mean." you really were pushing your luck now but Wooyoung was probably too shocked to care.

"I've never used them myself, but," he looks up to meet your gaze, his eyes glistening, but not burning brilliantly like they usually do. "Feinn ichaer feels like a forest fire rages through your veins. Like your heart has been plucked out and replaced with the sun itself, or like the air you breathe has turned into scorching hot lava... It's like physical hell, apparently."

Interesting.

"You stay far away from those spells, Iris. Do you hear me? And if you find that book, give it to me immediately, okay?"

You nod weakly, only watching as he informs you he has to go, and he promptly leaves the room.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

There wasn't room in you anymore for guilt. The way you were feeling before completely overshadowed by the disappointment in yourself.

How foolish you had been, to think that you could get away with something so stupid. To betray those who had taken you under their wing.

In that exact moment, you resolve to get rid of Yunho's book. Whether it was to burn it, to give it back or simply throw it out, you didn't care. You would find a way to get rid of it, and to put the wrongs you had made, right.

You put your plan into immediate effect, getting up and racing into the library to dig the book out of its hiding place. Hurriedly, you throw all your weight against the grand wooden doors, rushing in and closing them behind you without looking around.

"Iris? Fancy seeing you here." you whip around at the smooth drawl of a voice.

"Hello, San."

He takes a couple of cautious steps towards you, and then you realise what he's holding. He notices your gaze, and smirks.

"Oh, this? Just some light reading, you might enjoy it actually, it seems right up your alley." San sticks out his right hand and mimics the hand motion you had spent so long perfecting. "But of course, something tells me you've already read this, haven't you?"

"What do you want from me?" you spit.

"You and I both know that the magic Seventeen is tracking is, undoubtedly, you."

Somehow, San's statement stings. Even though you knew it was true, despite not wanting to accept it, deep down you wholeheartedly knew it was your fault, it still came as a painful blow.

"So, I want you gone. I want you to stop putting this castle, and this kingdom in danger."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that, fool?"

"Simple, I'll just tell the king exactly what you've been doing. Or, better yet, I'll tell that elf boyfriend of yours. I bet he'd love to hear how you're using his ancestors magic against him."

"You can't do that-"

"Can't I?" San silently paces closer towards you, close enough for you to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes and to feel his sweet breath fan over your face. "What exactly is stopping me from marching into the king's office right now, and telling him every little thing you've been up to?"

"Well- I-"

"Just as I thought." he scoffs. "You're nothing but a filthy, conniving little street rat."

"That isn't true! I've-"

"Is it not? Then what have you done to prove otherwise? After all, you've stolen, decieved and lied your way to where you are right now. Seems very street rat like to me."

"Are you going to tell them, then?"

"I'll give you a week to tell them yourself. If you don't, then I will."

"Can I have the book back? I'd like to return it."

"And let you learn more of these silly elf spells and kill me in my sleep? Absolutely not."

You glare at his towering form, wishing for nothing more than to punch that stupid smug off his face.

"Fine. A week."

"Pleasure doing business with you, street rat." San beams. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd quite like to see what is so special about this book. Smell you later."

And with that he saunters out of the library, leaving you standing in the middle of the room one second away from a breakdown.

How on earth were you going to tell them? How would Wooyoung react? Worse, how would Yeosang react?

You take a deep breath, throwing yourself into the cushioned seat by the library window and fixating on the rain drops tumbling down the glass.

Everything would be okay. You'll tell Yeosang, and Wooyoung and they'll forgive you. And you'll tell Hongjoong the full truth and he won't kill you.

Probably.

[kaleidoscopeheartandsoul]

Lie to Me Theory: Music Video

Start Here: Lie to Me Theory: Timeline 

There is no way to beat around this part of theory. It must be approached directly and bravely. All of what has happened in the timeline to here has left people distracted. So no one would be looking for the ultimate truth in a video about lying. Luke is singing. He addresses four different people. Everyone is represented by cars: three different parties. Two different agendas for being in relationships. All stemming from one reason. 

First we need to talk about the two truly significant elements of the Lie to Me Music Video: the lyrics and the center car. 

What do we mean by lyrics? The ones available on AZlyrics or Genius? The ones they’re singing? Not this time.

From the video description.

Artist frequently put their lyrics in the description of their videos. 5SOS does this on a number of their videos. This is the only one of their videos where the lyrics in the description 1. from a different version of the song and 2. have a typo in them

Here is one of the screenshots of the LTM Official MV that I took.

These were the official lyrics that Ashton, Calum and Luke wrote with Ali Tamposi. And then a very talented and good female singer, Julia Michaels, was brought in so they could make the official lyrics publicly available

It is strange that they would do this. Why not just leave both versions of the lyrics under the proper versions of each video? Unless the lyrics of the official audio version aren’t actually the right lyrics.

It is careless and weird that the grammar on most of their videos (all of their other music videos) is good and then suddenly on LTM the first typo on a music video appears. They would have caught it and fixed it by now, surely. 

These boys don’t know how to spell “Change” huh? ‘Chang’

Don’t know how to edit the description of a YouTube video? Forgot to? Don’t care to?  Remember when Michael told Luke on twitter to go back to school.

Change is the only word mispelled in the description of any of their music videos...because the lyrics were “Changed.” 

Yes, it is entirely possible something this cryptic occurred. 

Think Think Think

The cleverness within this band should not be underestimated. Time and time again, artists under Modest! have used covert means to convey the truth of their situations without the majority of their audiences noticing. 

These in the description are the original lyrics of LTM. The lyrics of the official release were changed to fit the image that management wanted to promote. This seems to be the implication, so interpretation of the music video rests on these lyrics and not the ones they are singing.

Symbolic Cars

This part was easy for people to pick up on. 

Represented on the passenger side of the center car by 96 like Hemmo1996.

Then there’s the other side of the car.

Represented on the driver’s side of the center car by these two lower-cased letters: ae.  So who’s ae?

There are a number of options for people special enough in Luke’s life that he might want in the car with him, in fact, a person he cares enough about that that person might be the driver. A person with ae in their name. So there’s a lot of those. What narrows down the options is that ae is a person who is close to  Luke but in the same situation as Luke. They are both circled by cars that represent threats to their wellbeing. So you can decide who ae is. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this video was released the week of Michael Clifford’s engagement. That would be ludicrous.

Now we can talk about the video story

L can see the mess before he agrees to be a part of it. The two cars are already circling like sharks before he gets into the car. He still gets into the car, sitting in the backseat. He’s surrendered for the next half of the video. Pain and heartbreak etched into his face. 

The circling cars represent “toxic people” like Ashton clued. So the circling cars are toxic relations.

He addresses the first chorus primarily to the circling car with toxic person #1.  This is a person who left him not only emotionally fraught but publicly humiliated him and scarred his reputation, then dropped all responsibility for fun and left him to do the clean up.

And now I wish we never met 

because you are too hard to forget

While I’m cleaning up your mess

I know he’s taking off your dress

And I know that you don’t, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The easy interpretation: 

1.     The person involved is sleeping with someone else but L isn’t angry that he’s been betrayed. Maybe because he loves her so much he could even forgive that...or maybe because he actually never loved her.

2.    Her marks on his life still causes a lot of grief because she publicly humiliated him and took no responsibility, so this is why all his regret stems from being stuck in the dump she threw him into 

3.     But he’s in communication with her---so he can ask her questions. Like if she still loves him. But that doesn’t make sense if he didn’t even like her that much.

“LTM represents when someone is in a relationship for something other than what you are there for.” Like fame or publicity, but Luke is using her for something else entirely.

Luke was being used because he was in a vulnerable situation. He still is in a vulnerable situation. It made it easy for others to hurt him but he didn’t rely on them. 

He starts by regretting the toxic relationship, but in these last two lines, he is turning to a different person, his person. 

Luke’s voice lifts at the end of each chorus as he turns to his last hope. “And I know that you don’t” because he sees how disgusted the person must be by the situation “but if I ask you if you love me, I hope you lie...” I hope you’ll love me. Despite how much you couldn’t--don’t like me.  

It’s 3 am and the moonlight’s testing me

I know you’ve been holding onto someone else

And now I can’t sleep (Ah)

I ain’t happy, oh

I ain’t too happy, oh

This verse starts immediately after the first time we get to see the driver’s side of the car where it says ae. This is extremely coincidental. It’s shifting focus onto another person. 

So he’s addresses ae basically, ‘I feel tested. I’ve turned to you and begged you to take me, but you’ve been acting like me, holding on to the same stories I’ve been through with a toxic person. It worries me. I am not happy. But I am also not mad at you.’

 Luke holds back from accusing ae even though he would like to. He is wounded again by ae’s actions but he does not want to outright blame ae for the situation that they are both stuck in the center of. 

 Flashing back to New York City 

Chang your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

‘Flashing back’ is when we recall memories. Nostalgia sets in for a better time. The first pre-chorus, Luke has a balance he is reminiscing about when he at the time thought he could balance both of his relationships perfectly. There was turmoil of course--the need to re-negotiate flights because of a mess up with leaving to New York--but it was alright after that and that’s why he was led into a false sense of security that he got this “right.” Did anyone ever have to change flights when they were trying to leave New York city because of a mistake. 

It’s funny that I thought this typo was on purpose because the official lyric again is ‘Change your flight so you stay with me’ but if it was really meant to be ‘changed’ then it would fit a dual purpose, warning us about the lyric flop and talking about that one time someone had their flight changed when they were trying to stay with Luke too. I’m dropping hints like bombs but I’m not saying what I’m talking about yet and it’s hilarious and terrible. Later post I promise. 

Flashing back to New York City

I was done but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The second time, Luke runs away from New York City, symbol of stability and security within his relationship with ae. He was done--he didn’t have any interest in connection with any of the toxic ones--but you undid me--again the theme of being humiliated and having a slaughtered reputation, the pain that goes with that. And now after the 3am verse  Luke is with ae, and done with TP #1, but ae’s ‘someone else,’ the second circling car, the other toxic person, is there to ruin Luke’s life again but by being attached to ae. This time Luke wants out. He’s so done already but this person is causing him double the agony that the last one did because he’s involving someone he cares for deeply. And he leaves the car before either of the circling cars smash into it. There is no Luke to hurt. Luke got out when “it feels right.” He knew this time that things were going well with ae but he gave up on ae because he was tired.

While Luke was humiliated, and went through a great deal of grief because of his toxic relationship, at no time during the car collisions do we see 96. Instead, the footage of the driver’s side of the car with the prominent ae is flipped so it looks as though the wheel of the car is on the right side passenger side of the car. It’s as though everything that once applied to Luke’s situation now applies to ae’s cause holy shit.

As it turns out, ae takes the hardest hit. The tempo is the most upbeat it was the entire video during the last chorus.  Luke is still surrendered to the situation but he’s protesting against the way they have been treated. Now all the boys are united, not just watching Luke. They’re all supporting each other. Luke is talking to Toxic Relationship person 2 in this chorus. He is stronger now. He’s done this before and the boys are supporting him. He’s standing up for ae. 

Last chorus: 

Now I wish we never met 

'Cause you're too hard to forget 

While he's taking off my dress 

I know she's laying on your chest

The relationship between himself and ae is the strongest it’s ever been, but even when ae’s taking off Luke’s clothes, Luke can tell that ae’s toxic relationship weighs on his heart. It is as though she is laying on his chest like depression weighs on the heart. Also this is gay if it’s real. 

Final verses:

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me 

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie 

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah) 

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me 

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The last part “I know that you don’t....” is repeated twice with many desperate pleas for lies. It is repeated twice for both types of relationships: toxic and ae. 

For toxic, he hopes that they pretend that they love him. He’ll even sing their lies. For ae, he hopes whenever they are in public playing their games of animosity, if he ever slips up and does something loving or a giveaway, he hopes ae will lie about loving Luke too and follow through playing their pretend game of hate because it’s the only way to avoid making the situation worse, and that’s the one thing the management and the boys want. 

Then the car explodes

Because he knows, they know, it’s not going to work. All the lies are going to blow them up. So the car explodes. Showing ae. The lies literally made ae explode. 

An hour after the Lie to Me Music Video premieres, Michael’s fiancee announces publicly that they are engaged.  

Take care everyone :) tpwk including you

[atths--twice]

Chapter Two

2/9

FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. December 14, 2017 7:30 a.m.

Scully stepped off the elevator with a shiver, holding tightly to the coffees in her hands, hoping it would help to warm her up. The basement was always colder than the rest of the building, something for which she was thankful in summer but not so much in the winter.

Shivering once again, she set one of the cups on the shelf behind her. Reaching to open the door to their office, it was pulled open from the inside, causing her to pull her hand back.

“Jesus,” Mulder said, his eyes wide as he let out a deep breath.

“Scare you?” she teased and he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“No. No, I don’t get scared.” He cleared his throat again, adjusting his tie as she nodded with a smirk.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed and he looked down at the coffee in her hand.

“Where’s mine?”

“Oh. Did you ask me to get you a coffee?”

“No. But… I would have gotten you one.” He pouted and she mirrored his expression, before turning her head and glancing behind her at the green to go coffee cup with white snowflakes.

“Ah, Scully,” he said, stepping out of the office and picking it up.

“It’s sugar free,” she deadpanned and he paused, the cup nearly to his lips.

“Why? Why would you do that?” He sighed and pouted again. She laughed and he exhaled as he shook his head. Tentatively, he took a drink as she raised an eyebrow. “Mm… delicious sugar. You lie.”

“Hmm…” She shrugged with a soft smile, stepping into the office and setting her coffee onto the desk. He walked in behind her and shut the door. “One day, I will get you sugar free.” She started to unbutton her coat and then thought better of it.

“You may as well throw your money directly into the trash then,” he said, taking a drink and she laughed softly, glancing at him as she sat down. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah. It’s always cold in here in the morning.”

“It shouldn’t be today. I fixed the heater.”

“You did?” she asked skeptically and he nodded as he sat behind the desk, leaning back as he took another drink.

“I can fix some things.” She stared at him, narrowing her eyes, and he rolled his eyes at her. “Fine, I had the heat fixed. Happy now?”

“I find honesty is always best,” she said with a shrug, picking up her cup and taking a drink, looking at him over the lid.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed with a smile. “Well, then I guess I should be honest and tell you it won’t really matter for long if the room is warm or not because we have a case.”

“Do we?”

“Indeed.” He stood up and set his coffee down, walking toward the television and then sitting back down after turning it toward them and grabbing the remote.

She sighed as she waited, watching him and wondering what he would do if, instead of some video he was excited to show her, she took the remote from his hand and kissed him. If she kicked off her heels and straddled him in his chair. It would not be the first time, well… for that particular office chair it would be, but not for the thought of it in her head.

What would he do if she did? Rising over him, her hair longer than it had been in years, hanging in her face as she stared at his lips, waiting to kiss them after not doing so in so long. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of them after his morning cup of coffee; his kiss like an oasis in the driest of deserts.

“Uh… Scully? Hello? Did you hear me?”

“What?” she asked, swallowing hard and letting out a breath, her face flushed. Well, she was more than warm enough now. Setting down her coffee, she stood up and unbuttoned her coat, taking it off and laying it on her chair.

“Warm now?” he asked with a smile and she nodded.

You have no idea, she thought, squeezing her thighs together to help ease the ache between her legs.

“As I was saying, we have a case in New Orleans.” He looked at her and she nodded again, waiting for him to go on. “There has been… well some unusual activity and we’ve been asked to help.”

“What kind of activity?”

“Unexplained murders,” he said, handing her a file. She took it from him and looked through it, breezing over the report and examining the photos.

“I remember hearing about this. The kids, well… not “kids” technically, but college aged, they’d had a party at an abandoned church and…”

“Parties- plural,” Mulder interjected and she looked up, her eyebrows raised.

“I only heard about one. It happened on Halloween.”

“Right, that’s the file you have there. The second one was on Thanksgiving at a plantation style house. Same type of party, same outcome, though not as many affected.” She shook her head and looked back down at the file.

“Do you have the information from the second party?”

“No, we’ll be briefed once we get down there. But, the sheriff sent me some photos. I’ve hooked it up so we can look at them on the television.” She glanced up at him, giving him an amused look. “Easier to see.” He shrugged and she nodded slowly, knowing he had fought with her in the past about needing new glasses. He cleared his throat and pressed a button on the remote.

Closing the file, she folded her hands in her lap and turned to look at the television. The screen was filled with photos of the crime scene: the house, the grounds, and the victims lying facedown on the grass.

Standing to her feet, she put the file on the desk and stepped closer to the television,  crossing her arms as she looked at the screen. There was no evidence of blood nor any obvious signs of assault.

“What was the cause of death? I don’t see any injuries.”

“Because there aren’t any, just like the first party,” Mulder said, getting up and standing beside her.

“Is it poison of some kind?” She looked at him and he shook his head.

“Toxicology only showed alcohol and marijuana, but that was only for the first party. The results for the second one should be in soon.”

“But they must assume the same, judging by the photos of bottles of alcohol.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and she shook her head.

“So, what was the cause of death?”

“Exposure. For both.” She scoffed and looked at him.

“Exposure? In New Orleans? In October?”  He nodded and pursed his lips. “But you don’t buy that?”

“I looked up the weather for Halloween and Thanksgiving and combined, it never got lower than mid-50’s. Which I admit, is a bit chilly, but what do you say, Doctor Scully? Could someone die from exposure in those temperatures?” He tilted his head and she shook hers.

“It’s dependent on many variables, but…”

“While I don’t know all of the details about the party on Thanksgiving, the one on  Halloween started around 8 p.m. and the cops were on scene by 2 a.m.” He picked up the file from the desk and showed her the paperwork. Shaking her head again, she sighed.

“Witnesses say that the group of kids attacked were in and out of the church but the DJ said he remembered seeing them inside at midnight and a little after, because everyone was inside dancing to a particular song being played. No one saw them again until they all heard screaming from outside.” She turned a few pages and looked at the photos, shaking her head, her brow furrowed.

“If they were outside for less than two hours, even in the lack of clothing some of them wore, it’s impossible to have so many of them die of exposure. It just doesn’t happen.” She closed the file, holding it to her chest as she looked up at him. “I assume you have a theory.”

“I always have a theory,” he said with a grin and nodded slightly.

“So, what do you think happened then?”

“Funny you should ask,” he said, turning toward the television.

“Ohhh, it’s never a good sign when you say that,” she grumbled, setting the file down and crossing her arms with a sigh. She turned on her heel and faced the television, already dreading what he would consider a logical theory.

A photo flashed onto the screen and she drew in a deep breath.

“Mulder, absolutely not.”

“Hear me out first.”

“I will not hear you out when you’re suggesting something so ludicrous.”

“What’s ludicrous about it?” She looked at him and scoffed, pointing at the television as she shook her head.

“You suggesting the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who, is ludicrous. That is a television show.” She exhaled and he hummed.

“But that you knew it immediately, Scully… that’s so hot.”

“Of course I knew what it was, how many times did you make me watch that particular episode? And the subsequent ones that followed?”

“Made you…” he scoffed and shook his head. “Like you didn’t enjoy watching them.”

“I enjoyed watching David Tennant…” she said quietly, looking down and then back up at him.

“I am very aware of that,” he sighed and shook his head. Rolling his eyes, he mumbled something that sounded like really great hair, and she smiled.

“You have two minutes to explain your ludicrous theory. And I don’t want to hear the name Weeping Angels.”

“As that particular name wasn’t used, that will be fine.” He rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath. She tapped her watch and he gave her a look.

“The only eyewitnesses both stated, separately mind you, that they saw what looked like an angel- ethereal being-” he corrected himself as she raised an eyebrow in warning. “An ethereal being walking in the graveyard.”

“This was on Halloween?”

“Yes, and before you think you’ve figured it all out, no one was dressed as an an…gel that night.”

“Nice save,” she scoffed and he smiled with a wink. “So… they say they saw an angel, how did they describe it?”

“They said it was…” He picked up the file and turned a couple of pages. “A large statuesque person, long white dress, seeming to glow from the inside and around it.” Both of them said nearly the same thing when interviewed separately.” He set the file down and crossed his arms as he looked at her.

“That doesn’t mean it was a statue of an angel come to life,” she said, raising her eyebrows and he shrugged. “Mulder…”

“How many unexplainable things have we seen over the years, Scully? Or have I seen as you seem to nearly always miss it?” He raised his eyebrows back at her and she closed her eyes briefly with a sigh. “There are no other suspects, no evidence to go on- footprints, fingerprints, DNA… nothing.”

“Aside from the other people at the party,” she said logically.

“Who have all been cleared,” he replied pointedly.

“It still doesn’t mean it was an… ethereal being, or a statue come to life,” she said, gesturing to the television and glancing at the Weeping Angel. “God, but that thing is creepy.”

“Imagine seeing it in person,” he muttered and she stared at him.

“Stop. That’s not what it was.”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” he said as he turned off the television and grinned at her. “Be sure to pack your sparkliest strings of beads, Scully, and lots of ‘em, we’re headed to New Orleans.”

__________________

Guesthouse Inn New Orleans, Louisiana 9 p.m.

Tired and grumpy, Scully opened the door to the motel office and was greeted to an overwhelming scent of pine and cinnamon. A giant Christmas tree, decorated within an inch of its already depleting life, stood in the middle of the room with faux wrapped gifts sitting beneath it. Christmas carols played from a speaker overhead and Scully, who normally loved the holidays, thought if she heard Silent Night one more time she really would take out her gun and start taking hostages.

Their journey to New Orleans had not gone exactly as planned. The flight had been delayed an hour and then two. They’d had to change gates and then hurry back when their original gate had been announced, forcing them to run quickly through the airport.

Once they were on the plane, they had sat at the gate for twenty minutes before departing, Mulder cracking sunflower seeds the entire time, no matter how many looks she had given him, the sound like nails on a chalkboard when she had already been annoyed.

The flight had been terrible, the turbulence causing her to grip her armrest for most of the journey. They had been forced to land in Baton Rouge, nearly an hour and a half from their destination.

Discovering the air conditioner was broken after they had driven away and the rental place had closed, was icing on top of an already shitty cake. Their drive over was loud with the windows rolled down, the car too humid if they left them up. It made it impossible to speak without yelling, so they had eventually given up.

A new rental car would be brought over and exchanged in the morning, but right now all she could think about was taking a shower and sleeping.

“Evening and Happy Holidays!” A dark haired woman said with a smile. “Welcome to the Guesthouse Inn. My name is Moira. Did y’all have a reservation?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said, waking in behind Scully. “Two rooms, under the name  Mulder.”

“Great, let me just check.” She typed away on the computer and Scully closed her eyes, already envisioning the warm shower that would wash away the travel day from hell.  

“Oh, what’s this?” Mulder asked and she opened her eyes. He held a brochure in his hand that advertised a haunted walking tour with the Voodoo Bone Lady.

“Mulder,” she said under her breath and he glanced at her. She shook her head slightly as he glanced back at the brochure.

“Excuse me, Moira, could you tell me more about this?” he asked and she smiled, abandoning the keyboard, much to Scully’s despair.

“The Voodoo Bone Lady is the best tour in the area. She’s a voodoo priestess, who will take you through the St. Louis Cemetery as she tells you about ghosts, voodoo, vampires, and zombies. It’s seriously the best. The last one for the night is at ten. I can get you tickets if you’d like?” She smiled and Mulder nodded excitedly as he looked back at Scully. She sighed and shrugged, knowing there was no chance they would not be going on that tour.

An hour and a half later, after a quick shower, she was trying to hold back her yawns. It was not that the tour was boring, on the contrary, she had been creeped out a few times against her better judgment. But, she was also tired and longing to lay down before the case began in earnest.

Falling behind the rest of the small group, she was thankful it was not just them so she could disappear a little. Her attention was waning and so instead she watched Mulder, smiling at his excited questions to the voodoo priestess and his discussions with the others in the group. Shaking her head, she thought of how, even after all this time, he was still the same. Still him, and yet things were different…

He was quieter at times, not rushing headlong into things as he had in the past- a haunted voodoo tour through New Orleans notwithstanding. He was more attentive, picking up her favorite food or a coffee as he had mentioned earlier, or suggesting a movie night as they were spending more time together outside of work.

Things were different, but there was so much that was still the same. Especially the way she felt about him. The way she had always felt about him.

Even from the very beginning, he had a claim on her, as much as she had tried to fight it. He was her polar opposite, how could she not have fallen head over heels?

Looking at him again, something suddenly caught in the corner of her eye, and she turned her head. Down the long rows of vaults and tombs, she thought she saw something moving. Stopping, she watched, knowing there had not been anyone there when they had all passed by it a few minutes ago.

Stepping forward, curious if there was a need to be alarmed, she felt a touch on her shoulder, causing her to jump and gasp.

“Sorry. You okay?” Mulder said, staring into her eyes with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. I thought… it was probably nothing.” She gave him a small smile and he nodded, turning back to their tour group. Stepping closer to them, she looked over her shoulder once again, but saw nothing. Trying to shake off the feeling, she stayed close for the rest of the tour.

When they had finished, thanking the priestess for the tour, they drove back to the hotel. Walking through the festively lit courtyard between their rooms, and past the second overly decorated Christmas tree, they said goodnight.

Taking another quick shower, she put on a pair of soft pajama bottoms and one of Mulders old long sleeved shirts and paced the room, suddenly feeling wide awake. She felt off, as though someone was watching her. She pulled the curtain back and looked outside, double checking that there was no one standing out there, her heart racing.

The majority of her vision was obscured by the bright lights and the large tree. But she could also see that the light was on in Mulder’s room, and she debated whether or not she should go talk to him, even though she knew he would tease her mercilessly for feeling that way. But before she could convince herself to go over, his light turned off and she sighed, letting the curtain drop.

“You’re being ridiculous, Dana,” she muttered. Turning off her own light, she walked over to the bed and sat down.

Standing up quickly, she walked to the bathroom and opened the door. Turning on the light, she closed the door halfway, and walked back to the bed. Laying down, she took a deep breath as she stared up at the ceiling.

“Now go to sleep,” she said quietly, smoothing down the blankets, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. “Just sleep.”

Reciting the bones in the body to help her fall asleep, she began to relax, finding comfort in things she could control and count on.

As she turned over with a deep sigh, the long day finally taking its toll, she did not notice the shadow that passed by just outside her window.

[2boats]

Clockwork, Danny & Dan: an essay on ‘The Ultimate Ennemy’ and Time Travel in Danny Phantom

Part 1: How Time travel work in Danny Phantom.

Warning: I barely talk about DP in this part, I’m just rambling about time travel

We all have things in our lives that we’re embarassed about; and for me one of these thing is being a homestuck fan (especially considering what it became).

but one of the reasons I loved homestuck was its ludicrous use of time travel.

I could talk to you for ages about different types of time travel, however, not only is it not what you signed up for, it start to get pretty confusing after a while.

However, it is cannon in the Danny Phantom universe that all ghost can time travel. And to fully grasp the what I want to adress, we must first understand how this time travel work. which mean I will ramble a little bit about time travel theory.

Linear time travel and its limitations

the original base theory for time travel is ‘one dimensional’ and present itself thusly:

the timestream is linear, and by changing one event in the past, you alter the future. (ex: if you kill baby Hitler, there won’t be a WW2.)

However, we end up butting head with our first problem: ‘It’s a time paradox’

if time is linear and there is only one timeline, correcting the past would remove the motive behind your time travelling to the past, i.e. you didn’t time travel, i.e. the past was never altered, I.E. nothing happened !!! (ex: you killed baby Hitler, so there was no WW2, so you never went back in time to kill baby hitler, which mean Hitler still caused WW2.)

in order to avoid this paradox, several possible solutions have been theorised, for example:

event that alter the timeline remain, regardless of weither the changes they’ve brought would’ve affected them. this way, any event affecting the timestream is treated as immutable and acausal: and the timestream is thus corrected through “waves” (implying a sense of simultaneity baccross the timeline, but I won’t go there). (ex: you kill baby hitler and return to your time, the timeline correct itself, WW2 never happened, you’ve never traveled back in time, and baby Hitler died in mysterious circumstances year ago.) it’s how time travel work in “the sound of thunder”.

the time traveler is treated as external to the timestream. (ex: you kill baby Hitler, the timeline correct itself, you return to your time, the timeline has changed, you didn’t) (1.5 : the timeline is changed first, and then you are (like in shrek 4))

a stable time loop; i.e the things you did in the past already happened in the original timeline, as such, you didn’t actually change anything in the timeline. often involve a “bootstrap paradox”, wherein an object exist solely within the loop. terminator provide a good example of this; seeing as skynet couldn’t have been invented without the remain of the T-800 it sent back in time.

the existence of multiple timeline A.K.A. Multiverse theorie  (actually multiverse theorie encompass a little bit more than that, but I still haven’t talked about Danny Phantom yet)

Bi-dimensional time travel

alongside stable time loops, one of the most widespread theory regarding time travel is that there is an infinite number of timeline and that any act or decision anyone make create at least one new timeline.

this theory, combined with the previous ones open a whole new realm of possibility regarding alteration of the timestream without creating paradoxes.

you may even resolve a bootstrap paradox this way. all you would need to do is say that rather than dealing with a true stable time loop, we’re actually dealing with an infinity of near identical timelines; one of them being the original timeline from which the paradoxical item of contested origin hail from.

anyway, the important thing to pay attention to is:

How does the time-traveler interact with these newly created future timelines ???

can they only return to their own future much like trunk in dragon ball ???

can they go to whichever timelines they want ???

can they only return to the future from the most probable timeline at the time of their departure ???

It should be noted that that last one appears to be how time travel work in Danny Phantom.

I Finaly start talking about DP. you literaly don’t need to read anything before that point.

the only information we have on time travel in dp are from “The Ultimate Enemy” (we’ll come back to this one later), “Masters of All Time” and “Infinite Realms”.

while in TUE travels to the future, both MAT and IR involve Danny travelling to the past

in MAT, Danny goes back to the past in order to prevent Vlad’s accident. however when getting back to his time, he finds out that this is such a drastically different timeline that he doesn’t even exist there. Yet, besides a lack of social security number, he himself is not directly affected by these changes. he end up removing the changes he made to the past in order to go back to his own timeline.

in IR, Danny (and Sam his following Vlad to different points in time; the later is trying to alter the past so that he may go back to a future he rules. Danny, naturally, is trying to stop him. Ultimately, when they all return to the present, the timeline is almost the same as when they left, with the addition of proof of Phantom’s presence in the past (although one could argue that this is a stable time loop scenario and that we just weren’t aware of these particular details).

thus in danny phantom, there exist several timelines, but you can only acess one at a time; travelling to the future will only lead you to the currently most likely future timeline

and as such altering the past will only change which timeline you have access to.

[thewritingcaptain]

One Final Trick - Chapter 1

Post-Endgame. The world has said its goodbyes to Tony Stark. Everyone, including Pepper, has resigned themselves to his death, and is simply trying to move on and adjust to life without him. Until she gets a phone call from the grave. It seemed Tony had one final trick up his sleeve - if she can help him pull it off.

Notes: Yeah, so, there’s not a lot to say with this. It’s pretty obvious, I think. This is probably the only story of mine that I will ever really acknowledge the shitty mess that they’re calling “canon” now, because I personally reject and/or refuse to acknowledge about 90% of it, particularly depending on the movie. Although obviously, this is meant to undo a good chunk of it, so. That’s about the only reason why.

Until we get that far, some warnings: obviously, major character death, and yeah, it’s sad. It killed me to write, so, you’ve been warned. Other than that, I can’t think of a whole lot for this one. Despite this, I hope you enjoy. 

Every time.

Every time someone said his name. Every time she got a phone call. Every time someone gave her condolences. Every time someone asked how she or Morgan was doing. Every time she entered his old office. Every time she saw his picture. Every time she walked into her God-forsaken house.

It was like the pain was fresh. A fresh pang would hit her, and she had to try not to cry.

She did her best not to show it, especially for Morgan's sake. She still had a company to run, a child to take care of, and a million and one reasons why she couldn't just break down.

She was doing pretty good, or at least she liked to think so. Even if it was hard not to toss around blame and guilt, and to stop the million and one "what ifs" that would pop in her head at the worst of times. She was managing; and that was all anyone could hope to do right now in this mess that had become the world.

It was three days after the funeral - about two weeks since the battle against Thanos - when she got the phone call that flipped her grief-filled world on its head.

It was a late Monday morning. She was at the cabin, although Morgan was currently out with Happy in the city. She'd been letting everyone take turns visiting with her and taking her places as they pleased, as much because it gave her time to both grieve and try to work as because she knew everyone wanted to hold on to that last piece of Tony as she did. While Morgan didn't quite grasp what was going on, she definitely knew everyone around her was sad, and she knew that Tony hadn't come home. The permanence of it on a barely five year old child was something she wasn't quite sure if Morgan grasped fully or not.

Pepper sighed, running her hands through her messy hair and leaning back in the chair. She'd been doing the best she could to work from home, since she had no one else to watch Morgan consistently and she wasn't quite sure she was comfortable leaving her with someone all the time even if she did. She hardly wanted to give her up to her many admirers, but she knew she couldn't keep her locked up in the cabin her whole life, no matter how strong the urge was.

Her phone rang from somewhere off to the side. She reached over and grabbed it blindly, putting it up to her ear and trying to put on her best professional voice. Whoever was calling didn't need to know she was lounging around in her pajamas, doing her best to work through her misery and failing quite spectacularly. She took a breath. "Pepper Potts," she greeted as she answered.

She only got one word in answer, and it was enough to make her freeze.

"Pepper."

Tony's voice.

Oh, God. She clutched her chest, wondering if this was what a heart attack felt like, the way her heart was hammering so hard and fast it physically hurt. This wasn't possible, wasn't-

"It's me. Listen, whatever you're saying, whatever you're thinking, just don't. I can't hear you." He stopped for a minute, and she heard him sigh slightly, could picture him rubbing his face as he struggled for words. "I'm sorry for this. A recording like this isn't my favorite way to do things, but I already recorded a hologram, and I just… I needed to make sure this would go to you and only you, and so it just wouldn't mesh, and…" He stopped, groaning a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. If I had more time, I'd start over, but I don't, so here goes."

Pepper couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She just clung to the phone. Whatever this last message was, she could tell it was going to be important, or else Tony wouldn't have sent it to her. She had so many questions, but she couldn't even begin to process them until this was over.

Tony's voice continued to speak, not knowing if she was listening or not and continuing forth with his message. "If you're getting this message… it's because I'm dead." He stopped, and she could picture him shifting, fidgeting with something around him to try to keep his hands occupied, to distill his nerves over whatever he was going to say. "I… don't know if you know when or how or any of the details, and I don't know how it happened. Maybe the whole time travel bit, maybe Thanos himself, I don't know. I just know this is tricky and dangerous and… if you've seen my other message, know that I meant what I said. Part of the journey is the end, and no death is ever timely. But for me to go right now… God, with Morgan, and everything that's already happened, and I just…

"Pepper, before I say anything else, you have to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've ever put you through, including this. I never deserved you, and you never deserved anything I made you deal with either. And you can tell the others I'm sorry, too. One day, when Morgan is old enough to understand… well, hopefully that won't be necessary, but I'm getting ahead of myself."

He stopped again, taking a shaky breath. "If I'm dead right now, there's a reason, Pep. I hope I didn't go in vain, and I hope we won. But if I am, it's because someone needed to go, and so it had to be me. There's a million and one reasons for that that I don't have time to go into, but you'll just have to trust me when I say that. I'm sure you knew when you let me go into this that if there was any way for me to get the kid back, I would do it, universe be damned or not, even if it means my untimely death. And that alone is the only reason I need anyone to know."

"But I'm getting a bit off topic, and I don't have much time. Someone will come in here any minute looking for me. So here's what I need you to know, Pep." A chair creaked as he leaned forward. "There could be a way to bring me back."

Oh, this was definitely what a heart attack felt like. She clutched her arm, biting back a low whimper at the pain there. Or could loss and hope really feel this tangible? She bit her lip, willing the tears in her eyes to dissipate, her mind to stop spinning. She had to focus, had to listen-

"I'm going to give you a minute to process that before I continue, because explaining to someone who's going into shock is a waste of my time and yours." He stopped for a moment, and she could hear him sitting there, not saying anything, just breathing. It was the most precious moment of silence she'd heard in weeks, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to memorize the sound before he spoke again. "Okay. Time's up. If you're not listening, you'll just have to restart the message and listen to all that rambling again."

"Some of this stuff is even out of my league, and I don't understand all of it myself, so if it doesn't make sense, don't worry. You'll need help if you decide to carry it out anyway. And, I mean, obviously, if I'm dead because we lost, nothing I'm going to say will matter, if you're even alive to hear it, so don't worry about it then, either. Anyway, I'm going to try not to think like that, and pretend that I know we won and carry on from there."

"So with my knowledge of the Infinity Stones, and what Thanos did to acquire them, it's become fairly undeniable that we have… souls." He paused. "I don't know how that works, what with the Big Bang theory and the stones and that the idea of a soul is based in religion, typically, but I don't have time to get into it and try to find out. Considering the idea of Thanos and the stones and the aliens out there and all of that is enough to blow everything we think we know through science and religion completely out of the water in many ways, I guess it doesn't really matter. But that's not really the point.

"The point is that we do have them, and when we die, that soul still has to go somewhere. And I know if I have any say in the matter, mine is going to be connected to all the things that matter to me here. You. Morgan. Happy. Peter and even Harley, if we're able to bring them both back." He takes a breath, his pain almost palpable, even through the phone, and she could tell that in that moment he was trying to shut out the guilt and pain that assaulted him every time he thought of them. "If they're back, undeniably, a piece of me will be with them, just as much as you and Morgan. I will do everything in my power to watch over all of you. So you may have to gather them all for this, but not yet. Not right now."

"I'm sorry there's so many variables to this, just… bear with me." He sighed. "If my soul is still tied to you guys, then feasibly, if I could get a new body, I could… come back. Enter into it. But it would have to be my body. My DNA, all of that, otherwise… well, this whole thing is so untested, and I don't even know that this will work. I know there's theories, but that's all I have to work with here. Besides, I don't want any body besides my own. I know that sounds ludicrous, considering if I'm dead I should just take whatever I can and be happy to be alive, but… well. It's the truth."

"And this is where I need your help, Pepper, and where you're probably going to need others. I don't know how I died, so I don't know where my body is, what it looks like, if you even have it in this time. If you do, and it's salvageable, great. If not, Banner has some of my DNA. Don't ask him why; you don't really want to know, I assure you. But assuming he still has it, that should be a start. I'm sure you can find more of different kinds if you look around; he's got the tools to salvage it.

"What Bruce won't have is the tools to grow me a new one." He paused, letting that sink in. "You'll need the Wakandians for that. I don't know how tough of a sell it'll be to get T'Challa to help, but I know they have the tech to do it. Again, don't ask how; you don't want to know. I've done them some favors, though, so hopefully, it won't be a problem.

"God, there's so much in between stuff I can't even begin to help you with, Pepper, and I'm so sorry for that. And, ultimately, this is your decision." He swallowed thickly. "I… I can't ask you to do this, Pepper. Not really. If you're getting this, then, well, you've been through enough already, and I shouldn't be getting your hopes up like this. But I also couldn't just go on this mission and not leave something behind. Someone had to know it was possible. If not for me, now, maybe in the future, for someone else. If you don't want to get your hopes up with me, then don't. I understand. And you need to know, Pep, that if I died on this mission… I did it willingly. And I knew what I was doing, and I will do exactly what I said I would either way - I will watch over you, from wherever I am, whatever comes next, and one way or another, I'll always be with you."

He stopped, and gave a soft, breathless laugh. "God, listen to me. When did I become such a sap? It's from spending too much time with the kids, honestly." A beat of silence. "I… just spent fifteen minutes rambling into your ear, so I'm sorry for that. Hopefully, this message will never have to reach you. For now, I'm going to upload it to Friday, and if I haven't accessed her and deleted it approximately two weeks from the time it goes into her system, then she'll forward it to your phone. What you choose to do with this is completely up to you, Pep. Who you tell, how you go about it, if you want to at all… Wherever I am, if you're listening to this, know that I understand, and I don't want you to live with blame or guilt in any way. I did what I had to, and I knew what I was doing, what I was giving up. And no matter how bad it hurts… if it was my life for one or my life for the world, I would have had to go either way. It's better that it was just me, if at all possible, right?" One last, shaky breath. "Tell Morgan… well, you know what, I said that in the last one, and I love you both way more than 3000. So for now… just know I love you. Goodbye, Pepper."

The line went quiet. Then the robotic voice of her voicemail kicked on, asking if she wanted to listen to the message again, delete it, or to press zero for more options.

She ended the call instead, letting the phone drop from her hand.

She didn't know when she'd started crying, nor when exactly the pain in her chest had faded into shocked numbness. All she knew was that there was a way to bring him back, or at least a way to try to, and she owed it to everyone to try, even if she didn't want to herself. But oh, did she want to.

What she didn't want was to bring him back only for him to jump back into the thick of things, or for something to go horribly wrong and for him to not be the same as he was. She could take the devastation of this failing, for all of them, if it meant there was a shot; but only if it failed totally and completely. If he came back, but was brain-dead, or worse, she didn't think she could bear that.

But still. She owed it to everyone Tony had listed - and many more - to try. To at least take the first steps and see if it was even possible. Not that Tony hadn't set about on many an impossible task before and succeeded, but if no one else had any idea how to do it, then he just might fail this time, when it mattered most.

One last trick. One last try. One last shot at life.

When her hands finally stopped shaking, she picked up the phone again.

[neshabeingchildish]

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 2

Not gonna lie, this chapter is dialogue heavy and a little rushed. Something was going on with my device where I couldn’t quite get the formatting correct and I grew impatient because this is currently the only thing I’m getting feedback on from people other than Lil’ Dynamite and so I wanted to push it out anyway, regardless of errors. I’ll probably go back and change those later. Patience isn’t my ministry. So, whatever. Thanks. Enjoy and sorry. All the platitudes you require, I give. Tagging @kiddangers @just-a-j-reallly and @sunbeameyes (Please lemme know if you wanna be taken off while you do all the stuff you’ve got going on). TW: for alcohol drinking. Idk. Sometimes, that bothers people, even if nobody’s drunk or abusing it.

I Didn’t Say Overthrow the Government

Charlotte gave the twins hugs and kisses before sending them off with their caregiver. It was just something about having access to these children that she couldn’t see them as experiments or projects, even if that was in essence what they were. And the caregiver would definitely have to shapeshift into her at times in order to calm them down, because they were extremely attached to their “mother.” 

Charlotte had a work program for bionics and supers that didn’t want to be heroes. She felt like it was unfair to presume or worse, force people into positions where they had to risk themselves for the rest of the world. She knew that her previous boss had that type of childhood and he never grew up past that of a superpowered 8 year old, then he simply continued to repeat that cycle by inducting underage sidekicks and even opening a school to keep that process going. 

She knew that Chase might have wanted to be something else had he not been raised and forced to be a protector. He mentioned, in passing, as though it was completely ridiculous, that when he was younger, he wanted to be an astronaut/lawyer. He laughed at his expense, until Charlotte wondered, “Why didn’t you do it?” He stared at her as though the question was ludicrous, so she had to tack on, “I have the credentials to be quite a few things that some might laugh at, and you definitely are more than qualified to be an astronaut lawyer, if that’s what you want.” He gave a little chuckle and moved on with the subject.

That was actually the thing that compelled her towards a new project. She loved new projects, because even though it kept her busy, it opened up her brain for new opportunities to touch the world in an impactful way. She went live on her page the next day and asked supers and bionics, “If you could do ANYTHING ELSE in the world, right now, what would it be? I know that some of you have certain abilities that have made it to where you have focused in on using that gift to help the world, but… What if you had the means and the opportunity to do something else? What would you do?” She read all of the comments and in the same conversation made a decision, “You know what… I feel very moved by a lot of these testimonies. So, this is what I’m going to do…” She created an email address and shared it with the viewers and posted it to her website, “I am going to have everyone who is interested in transitioning from an imposed future that revolves around your ability to a career or even just a hobby that you would love to get into to email me so that I can try to figure out how to make a some of these things happen.”

The number of “I STAN!” comments she received were nothing in comparison to the amount of mail that she got. She had a guy named Bob that she heard went to the academy on Bionic Island who had super strength, but was very gentle and hated having to fight. That was exactly the type of person she was trying to seek out. She had Chase introduce her to this guy… he was sweet, but by God, he was not bright. Sort of reminded her of her best friend, Jasper, in that regard. And it hit her! Jasper! “Hey, Jasp… I’ve got this bionic guy named Bob. He doesn’t want to have to be out on missions. He doesn’t like fighting. He’s very nice, but not that smart and he really doesn’t have a lot of skills beyond mission training and superstrength.”

“We ABSOLUTELY could use someone with super strength around here. I can teach him some maintenance stuff to help out around the lair and the shelter while he finds himself and figures out what he wants to do. Henry’s been enrolling in adult classes at the Vision Institute. Bob could maybe do that?” Jasper said.

“Yes, I’m definitely getting him in touch with an advisor, but I was more like checking to see if you had an empty room to put the guy up in and also if you could maybe mentor him a little along the way, since you have a lot in common?” Charlotte said. Jasper gave her ideas that she was already in the process of setting up, but a support system would be a huge part in these transitions. A lot of people who went to the Vision Institute went for the reason it was created - to figure out exactly what they wanted to do with their life now that their brains were fully formed and they were adults who realized that they had spent all of their lives going in directions that they were pulled in, instead of where their minds led them.

NOW, she had to try to get a more nuanced system in place for those bionics and supers who suffered the same existential crisis, but with the added pressure that they HAD to do whatever direction they were pulled in because, “the world depended on them.” Know who else the world depended on? Caretakers and caregivers, and Charlotte found a perfect shape shifting one who just wanted to be able to look after kids and stuff. She was bionic, so she definitely had been trained and conditioned to fight and protect, but now she was able to play with a couple of adorable babies who turned into adorable puppies AND, she would be able to help them hone their shifting, whenever they were ready for it! Charlotte loved that for her. She loved that Bob might be able to live out his dreams. She loved that she put things in motion to help people be happier and more successful and safe. 

The twins were gone to the cottage, which was where they generally stayed, since the castle was fairly new and Charlotte wasn’t even there a lot of the time. With having the guys there, it would be easier anyway. 

She came back inside to Max coming from his guest quarters and almost immediately asking, “Do bionics have twin powers?” She froze and folded her arms, thinking. She didn’t know and he didn’t either, so they both rushed to her desk to work on figuring out if they could figure that out.

.

Chase surfaced later, and found the two of them walking around one in one of Charlotte's famous theory rooms, which was a room with the walls covered in notes and models hanging from the ceiling, and spots where it was clear that experiments were done. It was sort of like if a lab didn’t have everything that was needed to do the work, but had everything that was needed to get to the work. Chase had seen the one that she had in her Dystopia home and the one in the Defender Dome, but this one was bigger, but less used. She and Max went to hover above a model with little figures of people and the scene of what looked like Centium City. “Good afternoon. I made a late start. I think that something is wrong with the guest capsule,” Chase said.

“Do you feel rested and like you’ve had the best sleep ever?” Charlotte wondered.

“As a matter of fact, yes!” 

“Then, how could there be something wrong with it?” She asked, rhetorically, not turning her attention away from the model.

Max asked, “Hey, Bionic Boy, do bionic twins have the ability to tap into twin powers?”

Charlotte gasped and said, “I didn’t even THINK about just asking Chase, and we went through that whole thing earlier only to come out as inconclusive.”

“What are twin powers?” Chase asked. Now, Charlotte and Max looked up from the current tangent/theories that they were mulling through to stare at Chase. He smiled awkwardly. “You know what, I’ll just look it up,” he said and touched his finger to the side of his face. “Okay… um.. No, I don’t think so. It would most likely have to be programmed into the coding for their chips. Kind of like my override, but like… something mutual that becomes something else.”

“The mystery kinda dies with that, doesn’t it?” Max asked Charlotte, disappointed. “Well, at any rate… Definitely gonna work on twin powers for the Swagger Twins,’ Max said, into his phone, recording.

Charlotte added in a smol voice, “They is good boys and they deserve!” Max looked at her, absolutely smitten and smiled. 

Chase watched with some judgment. He knew that Charlotte frequently switched up for who she needed to be, whenever she needed to be it. The Charlotte that she was with her best friends, the professional in a business meeting, the one that had to deal with Mr. Davenport, and so on. This one was new to him, and if he didn’t know any better… he’d say that this one was into Max. There was obviously some type of inside joke there with the strange voice and the grammatically incorrect phrasing, but the smile that Max gave her made him… irritable. “Are we doing some work today? Anything that I can latch on to?”

“Oh! Yes… We were actually just having a discussion about roleplaying, chess, and boardgames,” Charlotte counted off on her fingers. “We’ve been determining - out of the bionics worlds and the supers worlds, which heroes would be which characters or pieces.”

“We keep on switching and changing between chess and DND, because neither of us is making a list. Making a list might cut into the creative juices and this is all for fun…” Max added on. Chase knew all about chess and Dungeons and Dragons, though that was because Mr. Davenport had casually mentioned it one day and of course, it only took him a few moments to research and memorize it all, but he still hadn’t had the chance to ever play it. Charlotte and Max were talking about this current train of thought, until Chase projected a hologram for them, with a chess board and a diagram that he was creating in progress, split screen with the chess board as he explained, and went through all of the bionic people he knew from the database, where they would be on a chess board and why. 

He blinked it away when he was done and offered, “I’m not as hip to DND, but I have some ideas…” 

“Um, no… Let’s discuss whatever that set up was!” Max said, practically cheering. “You can do cool shit like that, and you… just don’t? You could be fanboy famous with that gift!” Chase blushed a little and Charlotte smiled at this and at Max’s enthusiasm for that display. “You honestly should take that online.”

“But, it doesn’t fit the Chase Davenport brand that Mr. Davenport approved,” Chase said, coming closer into the room.

“Who is Mr. Davenport?” Max asked, looking between the two of them, then gasped and asked, “Wait, is that what you call your Dad? Uncle? Dude?” Max started laughing and shook his head, “You’re ONLY supposed to do that when you’re a corny dude at a fancy meeting and you say the cliche phrase, “Mr. Davenport is my father.” 

“Well… that’s what we call him,” Chase said, annoyed, again. Max backed off and went back to their current mind game…

.

There was definitely still tension, and Max and Chase were being cordial, but it was clear that they still weren’t sold on one another, so Charlotte decided that maybe after a good day of mental stimulation, a few small experiments, a nice meal and some fine drinks, she could talk to them about the future. 

So, after all of that, they retired to the lounge, and she poured wine, lit candles and played easy listening music overlayed on nature sounds. Chase smiled, comfortably and announced, “This is a very satisfying lounge.” Honestly, she was setting it more for him than for Max, so that was good feedback for her.

“I was thinking about something,” she said and picked up her wine glass. “I was thinking about a couple of years ago whenever I started trying to open doors for people who didn’t want to be reduced to their bionics or superpowers. People who just wanted to be people and enjoy their lives whether or not they could fly or breathe underwater… I couldn’t help but to think about it today and the fact that neither of you ever really said anything about wanting to do something else besides be heroes.”

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a drink of wine. “Gross. I’m raiding your liquor cabinet,” he said, put down his wine and telekinetically collected a few bottles of brown liquor and three shot glasses to himself. 

“Well, I can’t speak for Max, but there really isn’t another option for me,” Chase smelled the wine and took a sip. It was good. How could Max not enjoy it? It was a very excellent year and a perfect aroma…

“But, there ARE though. Today alone, you proved that you could, if you wanted to, create an online presence for fandoms - which don’t give me that look could be extremely successful! - make exciting and fun games, excel in theoretical physics, improve mission suits and super suits, recreate the Internet with better accessibility and less monopolizing, if you wanted to, and like.. Several other things, and that was just today!” She insisted.

Max took a shot of whiskey and poured another, “You want one?” He asked Chase, knowing that whatever Charlotte was about to say, this uptight Chase dude was gonna feel some type of way about it.

“I’ve never had it before…” Chase said, a little leery. Max floated over the shot glass and Chase received it, smelled it and winced. To Charlotte, he said, “Yeah, I enjoyed doing all of that stuff in the theory room, but in real life, I have commitments and obligations…”

“That The Dom forced upon you,” she mentioned, taking a sip of her wine.

“That! That’s what I know that dude as.” He snickered under his breath and mumbled, “Mr. Davenport.”

Chase threw him a short glare, took a sip of the whiskey and groaned, then dropped the shot glass, but Max caught it and floated it back up. “That’s disgusting! Get it away from me! People DRINK this? On purpose??”

“You’re supposed to shoot it, Dude. Like this,�� Max demonstrated, blew out a deep breath and nodded, “Then, give it a moment, and it runs through you and feels warm and good.”

“It feels like poison,” Chase said, grabbing the floating shot glass. But, Charlotte had it in her home and Max had just had two, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as the initial taste. He shot it like Max did and slammed the shot glass down, breathing hard and shaking his head, “I’ve decided that I am not a whiskey man.” 

“Fair enough,” Max said, smirking. 

Chase used his own molecular kinesis to put the shot glass away, then told Charlotte, “I thought that you had accepted that I’ve accepted that this is what I’m doing with my life…” 

She furrowed her eyebrows and wondered, “Why did you think that? Chase, you were my motivation to start liberating supers and bionic people from destinies written out for them, so I don’t accept you accepting that, unless you’re accepting it because it’s what you want and not what you believe you should be doing!”

“What’s wrong with keeping a purpose that you’ve already been given?” Chase asked her, looking at her extremely hard and starting to kinda feel what Max was talking about, with the whiskey.

“Nothing… Unless… The person that gave it to you wasn’t qualified to create it for you. Davenport is a genius. We can’t take that away from him. But, he’s not a god and he isn’t infallible. His purpose for you makes A LOT of sense and helps a lot of people, but that doesn’t mean that it’s perfect or shouldn’t be challenged.”

“No, but me trying to do something just to be happy whenever what I do now actually saves lives… I mean… You’re a utilitarian, Charlotte. Does that seem like a better world to you? One where I’m creating games or… Or… being an Internet personality or whatever?”

“She didn’t say that you couldn’t still save the world, Man. I think she’s more like, thinking about the fact that you spend all of you life and make all of your decisions within those confines that Davenport put on you and nothing else. You could have been enjoying things like you did today, instead you’re like… such a Davensnore when you come out of the mission suit. You can save the world and still be your own human,” Max said. Then chuckled again and repeated, “Davensnore. Put it on the books, Folks. That’s his name now.”

“That’s not his name!” Charlotte said, but chuckling at little. “But, he’s right about everything else. IF you accept that what you want is to be a bionic savior and do that, then of course, I support that. But, you seemed so lighthearted and fulfilled today, exercising your smarts for fun and also coming up with very great ideas too, and maybe you’re meant to be a different kind of hero. I feel like I’m a hero and I definitely rarely hit a battlefield personally.” 

“You DO! But… You’re not like me,” Chase said.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Max asked, sitting up straight 

“Just that she was able to grow up with the mentality that you can be what you want to be and do what you want to do and everyone will support it and motivate you, instead of put you in a box.”

“I WHAT?” Charlotte asked, putting her glass down.

“Now, you’re in trouble,” Max said, with a smile.

Chase’s eyes were wide with apprehension of whatever Charlotte was going to say next, but instead of saying anything, she just stared at him, in disappointment. God. That HAD to be worse than whatever he thought she was going to say. She looked so betrayed and let down and he wished that she would just tell him where he messed up at so that he could bring about a solution. Instead, she simply stared at him and thought her explosion inside of her mind...

“I know that you grew up in a basement, so normally, I’d let you slide on that, but you have learned too much history, have read too many books, and have an entire two black female humans in your immediate family and one male counterpart, as well. You have to know on some type of level that that statement you just made is NOT true at all and even now, today, with the things that both of us have accomplished in our own ways, IF you had accomplished the things that I have accomplished, do you know how much more well received and adored that you would be? Have you SEEN some of the criticisms against me and compared and contrasted it with what you get? Have you done the same with the compliments? I’m in your corner, Dude. Don’t… downplay my stuff because you don’t like what I’m saying. If that’s how it’s gonna be, forget that I asked you to venture into this with me.” 

“Well,” she said after five full minutes, Chase noted almost right on the dot. He had upset her SO MUCH, that she just “took a five” and used it to stare at him in upset. It kinda made him miserable. He NEEDED her to say something to him about it. Even now, she didn’t. She picked her wine glass up, shot the rest and pointed at Max, “The scotch, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said, telekinetically pouring the shot and sent it to her. "By the way, what's this venture you and me are doin'? You still hadn't said." 

Chase was quiet, mulling over the things that were unsaid  while the other two talked.

Charlotte was a little flustered, but brightened up as soon as Max asked her about her idea. "I want to find and collect people like us, those who can and could change the world if only they didn't have significant barriers to doing so.  I want to find and gather as many of us as I can, help to guide them in the right direction and with all of our combined intelligence, hard work and determination, we can undo our current, flawed system and rebuild a new and improved one that will benefit everybody."

"You… want to overthrow the government?" Chase tried to clarify.

"I want the government to be changed into something that makes sense and is run by smart and capable representatives, and works for the people in it."Chase looked really bothered and so she explained, "For far too long, the system has been slanted.. it was created by men who were all in the same type of station, with the same interests and they made a system that has been benefiting them and almost exclusively them for so long that it is DEBATABLE for anyone else to have a fair shake. I think, if we really want to change the world and save some lives, we've gotta change the foundation. Just like with Dystopia, but like… farther and wider."

”You had me at “overthrow the government.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You… did. You just used way too many words when you said it.”“Well, I meant enhance life for the people.”

Chase interjected, unsure if she knew what she was suggesting here, “You CAN’T without overthrowing the government!!”

“That sounds like the government’s problem,” Max said, taking his last shot of the night. (He knew his limit).

Charlotte now got up to sit next to Chase and look right at him, the most serious and concerned look on her face that he had ever seen before and he knew that this meant a lot to her and that she needed it to mean something to him too. Something good. He wasn’t FEELING that this could actually lead to something good, but he WANTED to feel what she seemed to want him to feel as she spoke, “Don’t you hate the fact that this country, this WORLD is constantly at war, people are always going without, someone is always oppressed, and almost everybody doesn’t have what they need not just to be happy, but to survive? And who is to blame for it? It shouldn’t be us, but it usually is. Scientists need to find a way. Doctors still haven’t found a cure, etc, so on and so forth. When people like us work beside or even worse BENEATH clueless ingrates who see us as their smart… equipment. And you two understand this more than my previous team. The world does read you a certain way, but also, when they know what you are, they let their biases slip in. They don’t trust bionic humans any more than they do androids. And supers? Not if they don’t know every single solitary fact about that individual and still, they keep them at bay. I don’t feel like I should have to speak about or make a list of my struggles with this place. It. Has. To. Change. We have to try to change it. We’re qualified to and if that isn’t being a hero and saving the world, I guess I just don’t know what is. I don’t want the future to be as oppressive as the present. The world isn’t in God’s hands. It’s in the hands of the smart and the brave.”

Chase nodded his head, “I... have to think about it. I mean.. How would it work? Are you just compiling a genius database and visiting them like some type of secret society and just inducting them and giving them this speech, or...?”

“Pretty much just like that, Sir,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders.”But, do think about it.” She stood up and Max stood up as well. “See you tomorrow,” she said. “I’m going to go unwind.” Max stretched and grabbed the bottles from the table to move to sit closer to Chase, who looked confused as to why Max was moving next to him. Charlotte went through the corridor that passed through her courtyard to go inward to her quarters. 

“Sure you don’t want anymore?” Max asked. 

Chase furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You said that I was in trouble... What is it that you know that I don’t about what I said?”

Max scoffed out a little laugh and shook his head, “Have you never read one book about racial injustice or the lingering effects of chattel slavery in America?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with - Ohhhhhhhhhhh.”

“You basically just told one of the most historically subjugated and mistreated persons in the nation that she had more privilege than you and the unspoken presumption, that her privilege was why she wanted to take this on.”

“Do you think she’s mad at me for it?”

“I think you hurt her feelings,” Max said. “A genuine apology goes a long way, though.”

“I’ll talk too her tomorrow.” They were quiet for a while, then Chase wondered, “Are you really on board with this? You’re answer is undoubtedly yes, to this idea of hers?”

“Yeah. Not like she asked me to rip out my own heart and throw it at a politician. She’s talking about moving silently to help fix things that a lot of powerful people are often loud and wrong about and STILL gain support. Whatever side of history Charlotte is ever on, I’ll always know its the right side.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But, you’ve gotta do what makes Chase Davensbore happy.”

“I thought it was Davensnore?” Chase said.

Max shrugged his shoulders. “It’s both, Bionic Boy. You’re super bland.”

“Your ego is unwavering.”

“I talk like this ‘cause I can back it up,” Max said. 

“I can too, and I don’t act like this!” 

Max furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “You don’t know Beyonce song references when you hear them?” He suddenly sat upright and looked right at Chase, like he had something very urgent that just happened. Chase sat up, equally as urgently, in reflex alone, only to have Max ask, “You do know who Beyonce is, right?”

Chase sank back into the seat and sighed, “Ugh. Of course I do... I just don’t know her catalog that well...”

“Just as shameful. I’m going to bed. You’d better apologize to Charlotte.”

“Of course, I will!” Chase snapped and whenever Max was gone, he got up and went to find her. Things were easier to communicate between them without “her other friend,” around. He was convinced that there never would have been any weird miscommunication without Max there, but it didn’t matter now. He was big enough to admit when he was wrong, and even if he wasn’t, in his mind... Charlotte was worth putting himself aside for a moment. Was she worth taking on the world, though? The status quo? He found her on the terrace, wind blowing through her curls. Her silhouette doing nothing more than watching the moon shine down on her and still looking like music. Is she worth it?  Yes. Yes, she is.

[omfgtrump]

The Don Gets The Boot

FUCK YEAH!!!

ABOUT TIME!!!

Americans have voted in the first female Vice President. A mixed race Black Indian whose mother was an immigrant. Now that’s the idea of America!!!

Yes, The Don gets the boot, but how many Republicans will remain boot-lickers? Seems like Lindsey Graham has his tongue stuck to the bottom of The Don’s shoe. Congratulations Lindsey, in a unanimous vote, you win the “Sycophant of the Decade Award.”

Mittens Romney, whose occasional expression of dismay over The Don’s actions, took off the Mittens and took The Don to task. But honestly, I’m tired of hearing that Mittens shows courage and independence. Crawling out of your bunker every few months to venture your dissent only to slink back in to hiding leaves me cold. Where is your voice on The Don’s atrocious handling of the pandemic? Umm, thought so. I guess that makes sense, as you are the one who thought it was okay to tie your dog, like a piece of luggage, to the top of the car, and believed he was having fun. That takes a lot of denial and wishful thinking.

Many are shocked that The Don decided to tell the American people that he won before all the votes were counted.  Really?

Let’s examine the reasons why he thought won.

It was unfair that pollsters were counting votes after election day, even though the ballots were cast before or on election day.

He didn’t understand that you can’t choose which states to count votes.

He didn’t think it was legal for people from rat-infested cities like Baltimore to vote. So unfair, so unfair.

There are so many more Red states then Blue ones. If he has more Red M&M’s than blue ones, red wins, right?

Millions of people dressed up as other people and voted twice. The Don said: We have evidence of this. A detailed report will be coming out soon. QAnon is working on it as I speak.

Putin promised me that I would win.

There is evidence that at least 5 million dead people voted, and since Joe Biden is practically dead, they felt closer to him and voted for him. You’ve seen the “Walking Dead,” that stuff is real.

Most importantly: I never lose, so this is all fake news.

Frankly, anyone who understands The Don’s pathology, his malignant narcissism, could have written his ludicrous rant. Translated, it goes: I am The Don, I control the world; if it doesn’t go the way I render it, there is something wrong with the world as there is never anything wrong with me. That’s why I win, win, win; and never lose.

His response to the results of the election are identical to his response to the pandemic. “This can’t be happening because I didn’t deem it to be.” Once again we witness The Don’s delusional process at work, hoping if he repeats over and over that the election is illegal, rigged, a fraud, a conspiracy against the greatest president who ever lived; and that it is he, who is democracy greatest defender.

The next 74 days will be like no other transition of power in this country. Anyone believing The Don will go lightly into the night is living in their own alternative reality. Everything he has done and said before tells us that he will do whatever he can to burn the house down. The chances that he can accept defeat graciously are zero! It is not in his DNA. The Don’s entire life is predicated on destroying others in order to avoid losing: losing exposes his underlying smallness and the humiliation it brings is intolerable. He will do anything and say anything to twist reality so he doesn’t have to experience this. Up until this point in his life, he has miraculously escaped every situation that could have confronted him with his true self. He will never accept defeat and when he eventually leaves the White House (willingly?) to start Trump TV, he will turn his rage toward Joe Biden, just like he did to Barack Obama. He will continue to be a force in politics and continue to stoke fear and resentment and seek revenge on those who have usurped his power because that is the only way he can protect himself from connecting to his smallness. The good news is that those of us who do not want to ever hear from him again won’t have to because he no longer will be president. However, his desire to remain relevant to his supporters will make him a real force in Republican politics and he will have no qualms inciting people to violence. Maybe his first guest will be Steve Bannon, who recently called for the beheading of Anthony Fauci and FBI Director Christopher Wray.

Yes, The Don has lost; and the country, for a few moments, can exhale. Millions took to the streets in celebration. Church bells rang out in Paris like they did after the Germans surrendered; in London, there were fireworks. The perpetual state of anxiety that many Americans were thrust into for four years has been mitigated, though pharmaceutical companies are probably upset as profits may decline because fewer people will renew their prescriptions for anti-depressants and Xanax.

The Don made democracy fray at its seams, but the people pushed back. Democracy prevailed. Enough of us felt that another four years would catapult us into an autocracy. It is remarkable that nearly 150 million people voted during a pandemic.

It is also remarkable that 70 million people voted for a man who separated children from their parents, supported White Supremacists, banned Muslims, called Mexicans rapists, is a vowed sexual predator (Access Hollywood tape), was impeached (remember that), is in Putin’s pocket and did nothing when he was given high level intelligence information that Russia paid bounties to the Taliban to kill Americans, paid no taxes, covered for the Saudi Prince who murdered a Washington Post reporter and attacked science promulgating an alternative reality (with the heinous silence and collusion of Republicans) that the coronavirus is about to take a hike, when we are being ravaged and setting records for infections with 1,000 people dying every day.

Experts are saying that by the time Biden takes the reigns that there could more than 200,000 cases a day and increasing death tolls. It didn’t have to be that way, and the task before Biden and Kamala is enormous. Long after The Don is gone, our country will be paying the price for his incompetence, indecency, and heinous disregard for human life. Rather than being closer to a point where would are containing the spread, we are heading in to a very dark winter that will take a much longer time to come out of. The economic costs will be graver than necessary and tens of millions of people will continue to struggle with existential issues of food and housing insecurity. As for The Don, he will seek refuge cheating at golf and not give one iota of thought to the suffering of the American people.

For people of color, members of the LGBQT community, Muslims, immigrants and other marginalized groups, there is relief that his malignant man has been banished and hope that Biden and Kamala Harris’s policies will embrace, protect and uplift them. But these communities also see the numbers of Americans who voted for a vengeful, carnival barker who has deceived them into believing he is speaking for them, that he cares about them. Despite all they have seen and heard, his capacity to stoke fear, resentment and divisiveness allowed them to cast their ballot for a White Supremacist, a man totally void of empathy and morality.  What message does this communicate to these communities? What does this say about America and its capacity to move forward and embrace equity and inclusion?

It galls me when I hear pundits create moral equivalents between the Right and the Left’s extremism and the need for people to come together. I am all for coming together; this country will have a hard time surviving if we don’t. But the Right in this country (which at this point is the Republican Party) has been stoking racial animus, creating obstacles to voting, promulgating abhorrent and dangerous conspiracy theories, stoking violence by White Supremacists groups, and working against equity and inclusion for years. The violence at Charlottesville did not have good people on both sides. Torch-bearing White Supremacist and Nazi groups chanting anti-Semitic tropes are not the same as people fighting for racial and social justice. The oppressed fighting back is not the same as the oppressor asserting itself. Fighting for social justice shouldn’t even be a movement: it should just be. But as sobering as it is, this is America.

But America is also the place where a Black Indian Woman with an immigrant mother can become vice president. Let’s hope that that the part of us that could make that happen is the part that moves us forward during these challenging times.

P.S

I had planned to end this blog with the defeat of The Don, but given the way this transition is going to go down, I thought I would stick around and wait until he actually leaves the oval office and Biden is sworn in. Hold on to your seats!

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[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x14: Look at the Flowers - First Thoughts

How did everyone like the episode? I have to say, me and my fellow theorists were really worried this would be a supremely boring episode for TD. The spoilers were just so lack luster. Nothing like last week when we found out about Rick’s boots, you know? So we just hoped we would see some good symbolism. The kind of stuff the spoilers wouldn’t ever touch on.

I’m happy to say that there really is tons of good symbolism in this episode. It does feel a bit like a filler episode, because nothing huge happens. There are basically two story lines going on here. Eugene’s group heading out to meet Stephanie, and in that respect it’s a bridge to that story line because we only see them traveling but they don’t truly “get there” before the end of the episode. And the rest is a huge turning point in Carol’s arc. Which is great, but something like that is always going to be a little less interesting to us TDers. But, thankfully, I saw plenty of things that made me super excited for what’s to come.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x14. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Eugene, Yumiko and Zeke:

I’ll give you the best one first. Out of a clear blue sky, Eugene starts taking about CHOCOLATE BUNNIES for Easter. Not only has the rabbit symbolism been around since S4, but Eugene actually mentions Easter. And what does Easter celebrate? Resurrection. The Stephanie expedition is SO gonna lead to Beth. Plus, they were next to a set of train tracks during this convo, and Eugene even points that out, so I think that’s important.

When Zeke’s group reached the city, there was tons of pink and purple galore. And that’s because of the Princess character, but those colors are important. There’s the pink theory, of course. But there is also lots of purple and fuchsia. Purple is actually a big color when it comes to the Christian holidays of Advent and Lent. I’ll get into more of that tomorrow.

Furthermore, a lot of the walkers the Princess has dressed up and chained up look exactly like the Rich Bitch walker from Still.

Also, with the police walker? They find a car with a walker cuffed to the steering wheel and the cop walker cuffed to the front buffer. The car’s airbags are deployed. Not only is there an imprisonment theme going on there, but it reminds me of Carol getting hit by the Grady car. And also of the sighting of Emily being seen driving one of the cop cars around. It’s almost like the Princess set this up like a humorous scene. A car hitting a cop. And they draw attention to it by having Zeke laugh at it. That just screams Grady to me.

Along the way, Eugene’s group saw walkers in cages with a bird. Mostly, I think it was a foreshadow of imprisonment. And specifically, an imprisoned bird.

Let’s talk Zeke for a minute. They are SO setting up his death fake out. While I still can’t say exactly when it will come, I do suspect that he won’t make it back from this trip in a conventional way. I think Yumiko and Eugene will “lose” him and think he’s dead and return to tell Carol that he’s “gone.” And then, because she finally decided to get it together and start again, she’ll have tons of guilt and grief. 

I just felt like everything about Zeke’s stuff here was heavily foreshadowing that. They camped under a bridge. There was a flower graffitied on the pillar of it. Reminded me of the one by Carol and Tara in s8. His horse died of a walker bite. (And you know, this is a minute detail, but I’m wondering if it won’t be a matter of someone simply using radiation to heal his cancer, but rather, like the other fake outs, there will be a walker bite and they’ll be treating him specifically for that and sort of heal his cancer by accident.)

When his horse dies,  Zeke kills it and is very emotional and wants Yumiko to promise that if he falls while in the city, she’ll leave him behind. She says no, but just feels like a really obvious foreshadow.

I also had a thought about Eugene. My fellow theorists and I have often discussed the scene from 5x05 when Eugene sits on the fire truck and reads the book, “The Shape of Things to Come” and then Maggie talks to him about Sampson. It’s just such a blatant biblical reference and we’ve always struggled to understand its significance for Eugene. 

So, it occurs to me that Eugene used to have short hair and now it’s super long. Like all the way down his back. He used to be weak and afraid but he’s kind of become a badass in his own right. At least, as far as killing walkers goes. His speech about being the fool brought Sampson to mind because Sampson is often seen as Delilah’s fool. I’m just wondering if Eugene has become Sampson and Stephanie will be his Delilah.

Beta:

So Beta’s back and probably wants revenge for Alpha’s death. Dude is definitely not going gentle into that good night.

The place Beta went to definitely smacked of the golf club, and there were tons of important symbols in there. (Booze, crosses, a guitar, etc.) I’ll get to more of them tomorrow.

The song lyrics have some interesting themes.The first one is Emily’s Turtle and Monkey song. The last one is too, I believe. The one in the middle is different. I have a lot to say about the song lyrics. I’ll get into that tomorrow. 

And it occurred to me that we once again have a representation of Alpha and Beta being an evil twin version of Beth and Daryl. Beta breaking the guitar could represent Beth getting shot, and he’s lost Alpha in much the way Daryl lost Beth. Then, at the end, he wears some of Alpha’s face, which is a sick, twisted version of Daryl keeping Beth’s knife. Carrying a part of her with him. Then he marches off to war, just as Daryl would participate in AOW and the Whisper Wr.

Carol:

Let’s talk Carol first. While I know the shippers are running wild, I don’t even particularly feel like addressing that. They’ll always come up with something totally ludicrous. And remember, they believed this was the episode where Daryl and Carol would hook up or declare their undying love. Or…something. Once again, that didn’t even come close to happening.

But I’ll point out some things here that will show how exactly the opposite is happening. While this is a major, turning point in Carol’s arc, she’s also a proxy for Beth here, and I’m pretty sure she returned to Alexandria to patch things up with Zeke.

Okay, Carol does mental battle with herself in the form of Alpha, right? And it’s actually really interesting if you listen to what’s being said. Everyone Carol has ever lost is mentioned, including Lizzy, Mica, Sophia, and even Ed. Alpha razzes her about being a defective parent and says Ed was right about her. It’s pretty brutal, but obviously Carol doing battle with her own soul.

Then she gets trapped under the boat and the debris from the shed. Alpha encourages her to just accept her death and let it bite her. (Insight about that in a minute.) Carol, of course, breaks free and kills the walker, saving herself. She says, “it’s never too late.”

So, I think this is very much an epiphany moment for Carol and she’s probably going back to start over, patch things up with Zeke and try to be human again. She doesn’t say that or anything, but it says a lot that she was trying hard to leave the group (a la S5-s7) but after this breakthrough, so goes back to Alexandria of her own accord.

Honestly guys, this gives me a little bit of hope for Carol. I’ve been thinking lately that she’s on a Shane-esque downward spiral that she’s really not ever going to recover from. Up until now, she’s been so all-consumed with killing Alpha, that she really couldn’t focus on anything. But now, some part of her recognizes that it’s not too late and probably wants the happiness she once had with Zeke. It’s a big enough part of her that she actually went back to Alexandria. That’s good. That’s a big change for her.

Do I think she’s going to get the happiness just yet? Mmmm….no.

I’ll talk about this more below, but I’m pretty sure Zeke’s death fake out will come before he returns from his trip with Eugene. So just when Carol gets it together and wants to patch things up with him, she’ll find out he’s “died.” Yeah, everyone’s life sucks. But it will just be a death fake out. Still, this mentality from Carol is a step in the right direction.

The insight I mentioned above? The” look at the flowers” line comes from Alpha when she’s encouraging Carol to let the walker bite her. She says, “you should just look at the flowers.” And she’s encouraging her to accept her death. I’d never thought of it quite that way before, but that phrase doesn’t just mean death. It means to accept death and not fight to live. If you think of how it was used before with Lizzie and Mica, that was true too. But Carol fights to live and kills the walker and goes back to Alexandria to start again. That’s why it’s such a big deal for her. She chooses to move forward instead of running away again. And only when she does that does Ghost Alpha disappear. Just thought that was interesting.

Okay, so how is Carol a proxy for Beth. Watching the episode the first time, I was a little mystified by the ending. It almost felt like a time jump. We see Carol say, “it’s never too late,” and Daryl and Negan decide she won’t be returning to the boundary, so they head home. 

Then we see her approaching the gate of Alexandria and Daryl is already there. It was just kind of…abrupt. We didn’t see them journey home. So not a huge jump. A few hours or the next day, but still. We don’t really know if the Hilltoppers went to Alexandria or not (I’m gonna assume they did, until we find out otherwise). We don’t know if Negan is there too (again, I’ll assume he is because he was with Daryl). And we still don’t know what’s up with Aaron, Alden, baby Adam, Luke, or Lydia. It’s like they jumped way ahead in the story for some reason.

Then I rewatched it, and a particular line jumped out at me that sort of brought the entire thing together. Let’s backtrack for a minute. So, when Carol gets trapped under the boat? I pictured it differently after reading the spoiler. I assumed it would flip over and land over her and she’d be trapped in the natural dome of space beneath it, created by an upside down boat. But it’s not just the boat that falls. The entire shed collapses and there’s heavy debris resting on her chest and pinning her painfully to the ground. I had the thought that visually it looked a lot like the trapped walker Morgan killed after the credits in Coda.

But what made me really consider it was Negan and Daryl’s convo. Negan says “not to spin a broken record, but I don’t think she’s coming back.” Obviously the record thing stood out to me (and Beta also plays a record so there’s a music/record theme going on). But not until watching it the second time did the entire line of dialogue hit me.

He’s obviously talking about Carol, but the line could be applied to Beth. And should be because of the record reference. “I don’t think she’s coming back.” To which Daryl replies, “I know.” Then he leaves, rather than waiting for or searching for Carol. So, he accepts that she’s not coming back and moves on (kind of like he did with Beth). But after that, at a later time and completely independent of him, Carol shows up at Alexandria. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Meanwhile Eugene and Zeke are headed toward Grady. Um, I mean, some random hospital. ;D

Okay, I’ll stop there for today. I’ll be back tomorrow with details. What did you think of the episode?

[seprofcorp]

▶ The Doors - When the Music's Over ( I RE-POSTED THIS TERRIFIC ANALYSIS FROM " BenS/b-rod, 7moths ago"}}: "Ew, he wants to what?" Well first of all, you've got to understand where Morrison was coming from. A little background information is certainly required for the uninitiated. Jim wanted first and foremost to be a filmmaker and a dramatist (and poet) before he ever wanted to be in rock n roll. He went on to graduate from UCLA (unlike the deplorable Oliver Stone movie where a full ONE THIRD of the thing is FICTION - ie, never happened, like certain scenes, and the very crass way Kilmer portrayed him was ludicrous - but that's another topic). In the film department there, he learned  many things about cinema and drama in general that he transposed into his music. He even had acting lessons according to Paul Ferrara. Anyway, I think the main work that influenced Jim on "The End" was Artaud's "Theatre & Its Double," which I reread recently and it made a lot more sense to me why Jim went in that theatrical direction. When I reread it, pieces fell into place that I'd never realized before. Artaud goes through his theories and in one instance, he even mentions "Oedipus Rex" itself by name (which, for those who don't know is an ancient Greek play that Freud psychologically postulated as universal, Oedipus for boys and Elektra for girls - deep in the unconscious). On a side note, Artaud also had a major influence on the Living Theatre, which Jim saw every show he could of, with their confrontational approach to theatre, which was right before Miami, and is what got Jim in trouble down there for allegedly exposing himself, with it fresh in his mind. Anyway, I believe its drama. Jim didn't get into personal confessional lyrics until LA Woman with things like "Hyacinth House" or "Cars Hiss By My Window." "The End" does start out about a break up with his girl prior to Pamela but then obviously goes in another direction when they would improvise to fill their slot at London Fog. But Artaud's work, I think, is key to understanding where Jim was coming from and the theatricality of some of his lyrics. And as Ray said about the Lizard King to Ben Fong-Torres - "That Lizard King thing - that's out of "Celebration Of The Lizard" and he's acting a part; its a theatre piece. Its a drama of which a guy is leading a small band of people...out into the desert and at the end of the whole piece he says "I am the Lizard King, I can do anything" and people are going "Oh, he's the Lizard King, he's the self-proclaimed Lizard King." You bastards, man! He's ACTING! ITS A ROLE, you know? Marlon Brando is not Stanley Kowalski, Jim Morrison is not the Lizard King, but they ground him down [for it]."Could the same be said for "The End?" You fuckin bet.Here's Jim speaking in late 1970 (also to Ben Fong-Torres) - "Are you still considering yourself the Lizard King?" "What I was trying to say with that, and that was years ago, and even then it was kind of ironic. I meant it ironically, and it wasn't meant to be - " and Pam cuts him off saying "That whole thing was done tongue-in-cheek" and Jim says, "Well, half tongue-in-cheek" and Pam continues, "and everybody thought it was like so serious." Jim: "Well, its an easy thing to pick up on." Its interesting to note that his production company with, I think, Paul Ferrara and Babe Hill, joking called themselves the Media Manipulators."Well, its an easy thing to pick up on" is the operative phrase - memorability, standing out, and this, I think, is key to understanding "The End" and other things. In the same interview with Fong-Torres, he also talks about how at newspapers there's someone who is there to write only the headlines of an article, that it has to be a catch phrase. Maybe its hard for literal-minded people to understand, but Jim says "THE killer" and then proceeds to take a face, an ancient drama mask that actors would wear on stage. He doesn't say "I" until he's set up the scene and in that role.  "The key to throwing the audience into a magical trance is to know where in advance the pressure points must be affected...But theatre poetry has long become unaccustomed to this invaluable skill...To make language convey what it does not normally convey. That is to use it in a new exceptional and unusual way, to give it its full, physical shock potential...and restore their shattering power...The thought it aims at, the states of mind it attempts to create, the mystical discoveries it offers...It all seems like an exorcism to make our devils FLOW...strange signs, matching some dark prodigious reality we have repressed...ready to hurl itself into chaos in a kind of magical state where feelings have become so sensitive they are suitable for visitation by the mind...We must not ask ourselves whether it can define thought but whether it makes us think [and feel], and leads the mind to assume deeply effective attitudes...Just as in former times, the masses today are thirsting for mystery" (Artaud) (And there are more quotes equally as good in his work).I'm not saying he was consciously thinking of Artaud's theories when he went up onstage that night at the Whiskey, but it certainly came out of him then - the culmination of many things going on in the background of his consciousness and trying to push the envelope as an artist. As a fellow INFP explorer (mine and Jim's personality type), I think I can understand Jim more than most in that respect. Its "drama of the highest order" said Jack Holzman