#and having to deal with the feelings stemming from that. from knowing her family went through that but also someone else's hasn't

[ghost-bison]

Doctor Who: 1x08 The Satan Pit (2006) / 60th anniversary special 2/3 Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

I frankly love that parallel. One scene taken out of each of the two RTD eras.

First there's the colour palettes. You can see that they're polar opposites. RTD era1 was warm all the time as talked about in this post (which I love dearly, I keep referencing it in my posts), and then we have RTD era2, which has a more modern-looking, colder palette for science fiction.

But it's also a directing choice for the mood I think, cause on the one hand, we have Rose who, we all know, would even give up on seeing her mum again if it meant she got to spend the rest of her life with the Doctor (quite like Donna back in series 4 actually, who was very prompt to say she was going to travel with Ten forever). On the other hand we have Donna in 2023 who's now got a daughter and a husband and who hadn't even planned on doing a trip with the Doctor in the first place, let alone at the edge of the universe. I mean, they were just supposed to go see Wilfred! On one side we have Ten who's slowly recovering from the trauma of the Time War and falling in love for the first time in a while and re-learning that he deserves to be loved, too. On the other side we have Fourteen who, just as Donna put it, is "staggering", and as Fifteen said, is "running on fumes". He's got FOUR regenerations worth of trauma on Ten who was already struggling as it was with one (since the Time War I mean. Maybe two if we count Nine, cause who knows what he's been through between his regeneration and meeting Rose). Fourteen went through losing Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory, River, Clara, Bill, and he went through Pandorica, billions of years imprisoned by the Time Lords in his own personal hell, finding out about the Timeless Child, etc... and now, on top of everything, he's got to deal face to face with the guilt of what he did to Donna as she's been given back to him. Anyway, it's dark, when you think about it. No wonder the colours are so much colder in Wild Blue Yonder.

Then there's the music. In The Satan Pit, the soundtrack, The Impossible Planet, has a mystical quality to it. It's slightly creepy (I mean, it IS an episode about Satan), but it's mostly mysterious. Ten and Rose are only 500 years away from home. But in Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen and Donna are 100 TRILLION YEARS away from home. The soundtrack from that scene, The Edge of Creation, isn't just mysterious, it's eerie and ethereal and perfectly encompasses what it would feel like to stand somewhere so impossibly alien it has become supernatural (if you can't tell I am obsessed with that track and episode lmao).

I love the contrast between Rose and Donna and the questions they ask. Rose's question is cute, she's like "I've seen it in films, is that it?", it stems from a place of curiosity, like she doesn't really realize the deep shit that they're in. She's just a kid. Whereas Donna's question, it stems from a place of dread: "Where's the light?". It almost has a "The Licked Hand" quality to it (if you don't know that story: the girl is scared, she puts her hand under the bed, her dog licks it. She goes into the bathroom, finds her dog dead in the tub, and written in its blood are the words 'humans can lick too').

Then, finally, there's the order in which things have been done: in The Satan Pit, Rose remarks they're "a long way from home". Ten takes a long look at her, and seeing that she seems a bit scared, he explains to her how long it would take to get home. In Wild Blue Yonder, Fourteen first explains to Donna how long it would take to get home, and only THEN, he takes a long look at her, and finally Donna says "that's my family, over there". It parallels Rose's sentence in the sense that they both talk about home and how far away it is, but they use different words for it with a different meaning behind. Donna is more specific on what she'll be returning to when it's over (her family), whereas Rose, who isn't as grounded as her, just says "home" (which, for her, probably just means the place she grew up). I also love the contrast between Rose's "a long way" and Donna's "over there". The first implies foreign, the second implies close enough to see. What's interesting about this bit is Donna is further away from home than Rose is, geographically speaking. But for Rose, Home is actually the Doctor, just him, so she has no problem saying she's "a long way from home" since she doesn't mean it in the same way Donna would. So for Donna, when she says "over there", it's because the Home she's talking about is closer to her heart, and she's probably trying to reassure herself that she'll see her family again (I used to do something like that when I was in primary school, I'd travel all the way back to my house in my head to kiss my parents on the cheek because I was so homesick).

So that's that I guess

[yelloworangesoda]

maxwell and sammy are all mine and i love them like my children but its pretty hard to divorce them from fnaf enough to make them straight up ocs. sammy especially bc hes technically not my oc, even if i made up every aspect about him except his name and dead twin sister

[astralaffairs]

hi!! before i go i jus wanna say, I love your work 🙏🏽 and I finally watch hamilton last night so I might write for it as well 😋😋 but i have a drabble idea.

anyways— thomas having a dance/ball for a campaign during the election and he meets aaron’s little sister, mc, who snuck in. and he can’t help but take interests in her.

“Now, what’s a lady like you doin’ getting a drink just for yourself? Nobody’s offered to do that for you yet?”

Y/N froze as her fingers met the stem of the champagne flute. She had promised herself she would stay to the outskirts of the ball, and her only goal for the night had been to avoid courting attention. However, the packed room was warm, and it was only more so at its perimeter under the lights, and the crisp bubbly had looked oh-so-inviting.

She turned with a polite smile as she picked up the glass, but her eyes widened when she saw the man behind her with his gleaming smile and his velvet suit. She recognized him instantly; after all, she’d seen him before, and he’d even been in her home, but they’d never formally met. He raised an eyebrow when her smile faltered. “I’ve only just arrived. I haven’t had a chance to speak to much of anyone just yet.”

“Then I’m gonna have to count myself lucky to have found you when I did. Thomas Jefferson.” He offered her a hand as he introduced himself, and when she took it, he dipped down to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes went even wider.

She cleared her throat as he drew himself back up to his full height, still holding her by the fingertips, and it took a moment for it to occur to her to withdraw her hand. “You’re the host of this ball, then, if I’m not mistaken. Thank you for opening your home to us like this.”

“Believe me, sugar, the pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Who’re you here with? Feel like I’ve seen you around, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Oh, um, my family’s here somewhere. I came on my own, though, and I was planning to meet them here.”

“Your family?” He pursed his lips. “You’re not a Schuyler, are you?”

“No, no, certainly not,” she replied before hastily adding, “although the Schuylers are lovely people, of course. To be a part of their family would make one lucky.”

“So you know the Schuylers, then?” he mused, and she nodded. His growing smile was making her mouth go dry. “I know where I recognize you from; you’re a Burr, aren’t you? Aaron’s sister?”

“I am, yes.” Her smile was tense, laced with unease. His grin was bright as he plucked a drink for himself off of the table behind them.

“So why haven’t I seen you at one of these before? Your family trying to keep you locked away from all the politics?” he asked, and as her eyebrows fell, he could see the look in her eyes sour.

“They’ve decided I can’t be trusted at this kind of event,” she said bitterly, and he quirked a brow. “Aaron claims he’s afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and jeopardize his career, but really, I think he just can’t deal with the idea of splitting people’s attention between us.”

“But you finally proved yourself trustworthy?” he asked mildly, taking a sip of his drink, and she shrugged uncomfortably.

“I suppose so.”

“Then where’s your dear brother now, hm? Why aren’t you here with the rest of your family?” He watched her expectantly, and when she didn’t answer right away, his grin broadened. “They don’t even know you’re here, do they?”

“No, and you’re not going to be the one to tell them,” she said sharply, pointing her champagne flute at him. He raised his eyebrows, amused by the fervor in her tone. “I had to walk miles alone in the dark to get here; I am not being thrown out as soon as I arrive.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you’re not with them, then really, I should be sendin’ you on your way.” Despite the threat, his voice was breezy, and she frowned.

“And what do you have to gain from kicking me out?”

“The respect and appreciation of your family,” he suggested blithely. “The knowledge that I’m not leavin’ a young lady to walk home alone ‘n vulnerable at the end of the night. ‘S just the right thing to do, really.”

She eyed his small smile for a moment before slowly asking, “But despite that, you’d rather I stay, wouldn’t you?” He shrugged unabashedly. “You’re quite shameless, aren’t you, Mr. Jefferson?”

“Only on a good day.” He winked as he took a sip of his drink. “After all, you went through all that effort to get here. There’s gotta be a good reason for it, huh?”

“Of course. I’m here to expand my mind just like everyone else," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“And not for the charming future president we’ve got roaming the ball?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware there was one. Let me know if you see him?”

His full laugh proved him undeterred, and Y/N’s self-satisfied smile was reluctant. "'M glad to see you inherited more of the family wit than your brother seemed to."

"Please, don't tell him that. A lady needs to keep some things a secret."

"It'll stay between us, then," Thomas said, "but I don't think I ever got your name."

"Why, so you know whose presence to report to my brother?"

"So I know who to ask after the next time I see him." His response was quick, and it had Y/N on her heels. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, but when she opened her mouth to answer—

"Y/N." Both she and Thomas turned on their heels at the loud voice to find her brother striding across the room toward them, and her groan was unchecked. The fury in Aaron's voice was barely contained. "What in the world do you think you're possibly doing here, sneaking out after dark? How did you even get here?"

"I brought myself, since nobody else was willing to take me," she bit back, and Thomas raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his drink.

"That wasn't your decision to make," Aaron snapped. "We are a family, and you have to respect that—"

"Respect what? That you have total control over my life in the name of family values? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" she asked. "I respect that you have a career and a reputation to maintain, but I am a person, and—"

"And nothing, Y/N. Put the drink down, and leave Mr. Jefferson at peace," he demanded, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, her jaw set. Aaron turned to Thomas, and much of the fire in his voice had subsided when he said, "I'm sorry for her intrusion, Thomas. We didn't know she had followed us here, and we'll send her home at once."

"Now, Aaron, what makes you think she's uninvited company?" Thomas asked, and both Y/N's and Aaron's brows were raised. "Y/N's my guest here this evening; 's the opposite of an intrusion."

He frowned, glancing between Thomas and Y/N. "You mean you're responsible for her presence here tonight?"

"Well, I invited her, so I suppose you could say that," he said casually, and if he winked when he caught Y/N's eye, Aaron didn't think anything of it. Aaron's lips were pursed and his shoulders tense as he glanced between them.

"Why didn't you tell me Thomas had invited you?" he asked Y/N, and she shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd want to hear it, and I didn't want you trying to prevent me from coming."

"If I'd known he asked you to come—"

"So, what, my personhood is dependent on his permission now?"

"Your presence here is, at least."

"As a Burr, I would've been welcome either way."

"Not unattended, however."

"I can attend to myself just fine."

"You know that isn't what I mean when—"

"Aaron, was there somethin' else you needed?" Thomas cut him off, and Aaron's gaze was affronted when it snapped to him. However, he held his tongue. "I was just about to ask Y/N to dance, assuming that's her decision to make 'n all."

Y/N had to bite back her smile at his words, and although Aaron seemed to recognize the challenge in them as his jaw ticked, he said, "Of course. I'm sorry to have interrupted."

"Don't sweat it. Your concern for your sister is awful sweet, even if it isn't needed here," Thomas responded, his smile warm.

"'Concern' isn't how I'd describe it," Y/N muttered bitterly, and Thomas nudged her with his elbow. She frowned.

"Carry on 'n enjoy the rest of the ball, though, and please send my best to your wife," he said. Aaron could only offer a tense smile in response.

“You as well. I suppose I should go find Theodosia.” He looked down skeptically at Y/N. “How are you planning to get home?”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I…” She hadn’t thought that far, so her gaze was hopeful when it snapped to Thomas, who held her with a hand at the small of her back.

“I’ll arrange for a carriage to take her home,” he promised. “Don’t you worry, Burr. She’s in safe hands.”

“Right,” he said hesitantly, looking Thomas over. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t do anything stupid, Jefferson.”

“‘S like you don’t even know who you’re talkin’ to,” Thomas said incredulously, and Aaron scoffed.

“I’m sure.” He barely spared them both another glance before departing unceremoniously, shaking his head all the while, and Thomas chuckled. Y/N turned back toward him.

“You’re a regular local hero,” she said sardonically, but the smile in her eyes betrayed her bored tone. Thomas grinned.

“I do try, sweetheart,” he said lightly, “maybe even in a way that deserves a ‘thank you’?”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sincere. “Really. I owe you.”

“Well, if you mean that,” he said, and his eyes were shining as he looked down at her, “I wouldn’t mind making good on that dance I mentioned. Unless you’re in a real rush to get back to your dear old brother.”

He offered her his arm with an eyebrow raised, and she left her empty glass on the table behind them when she took it, drawing a wide grin from him. “How could I say no to our charming host?"

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 10

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 11.5K (sorry, she's a beast)

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 9 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 10

Thunder rumbled, and the wind rustled the tall grass. The stems tickled his ear, and Jake absently moved it away before sighing and lifting his hat from his face to squint up at the sky. Grey clouds were rolling in from the west, and he’d seen the cows lying down in the field as he rode to his favorite spot on the property after finishing chores.

The twinge in his knee was right - an August storm was coming in. 

Sighing, Jake settled the hat back on his face, blocking the sun. Mama had dug his old Stetson from the closet the first day he’d returned with a sunburned face after working outside with Will to replace a section of fence that’d come down in a windstorm. When he’d looked for his Longhorns cap the next day, it was drip-drying in the shower. Mama’d claimed she just wanted to wash it for him, but who washed ball caps first thing in the morning? 

A second clap of thunder boomed, followed by a cow bellowing. Starlight, his favorite mare, tossed her head and snorted, foot stomping. Groaning, he slowly sat up, setting his hat on his head and grimacing at the twinge in his lower back. Even months after the ejection, he was still stiff and sore if he spent too much time sitting still. Lying on the ground certainly didn’t help. But he was tired after doing his chores, and it was easier to deal with the nightmares when he didn’t have to worry about his folks hearing him toss and turn. The flight surgeon assured him they’d go away with time, just like he needed to give his back and knee time to heal. The SEALs medic had stabilized his left knee, but trekking eight miles over rough terrain to the rendezvous point on a torn ACL hadn’t been fun. Neither had the surgery in Landstuhl, Germany after he’d been med-evaced from the carrier. But thankfully, he’d been able to get shipped back home shortly after, reaching the States just a few weeks after Rooster and the rest of the SEAL team did. The success of their mission was already making national headlines. Jake knew his next promotion was guaranteed, but it didn’t matter.

Because when he’d been lying in that bed in Germany, the one person he’d wanted to talk to hadn’t picked up her phone. 

He’d known there was a chance Cece wouldn’t answer when he’d called. In their last conversation before he shipped out - permission was granted for a last minute to contact his loved ones - he’d pleaded with her to distract him, and she told him her travel plans, voice brimming with excitement. Pops confirmed she was overseas when they talked after his surgery. He’d offered to call and let her know what was happening, but Jake told him not to bother. Despite his family’s disapproval, he held firm to it - the last thing he wanted was Cece to come back to him only because he was injured. But in his darker moments, he was mad and hurt. He hated being alone in his hospital room. Wanted to see her when he got off the plane. And as much as he appreciated Mama flying out to help him get around his apartment those first few weeks, Jake selfishly wanted Cece. 

But they’d agreed to take the time apart to think. The sight of her tear-stained face that night in January when they’d stayed up until 4:00 AM on a video call still haunted him. The exhaustion he’d felt when they finally hung up wasn’t just physical. The conversation had been a long time coming, but he still hadn’t been prepared. Cece’s voice had broken so many times on that call when she finally opened up to him. Jake was forced to reckon with the fact that, while he’d thought their relationship was perfect, the woman he loved had been miserable for a long time - and he’d been too blinded to see it. Like everyone else, he’d fallen for Cece’s bright smiles and claims that everything was alright. But those smiles were gone, replaced with hurt, anger, and exhaustion as she filled in her side of their love story. 

Going to college across the country was a temporary challenge that would pay off once he graduated and they were back together. But where he’d been on a straight and narrow path toward their dream, Cece struggled to reconcile the woman she was becoming with the girl who had agreed to something she didn’t quite understand. Their spring break trips to South Carolina were fun but another example of Jake’s unspoken expectation that she accommodate him and his career - that she would follow where he led. What he’d seen as a simple request for her to come to him, to remember that his college experience was different than hers, she’d taken as a glimpse into their future. 

Jake regretted his bitter, sarcastic apology for failing her tests when he was a stupid kid. His hissed accusations that she could have talked to him instead of her friends, who dripped poison into her ears that he didn’t care about her if he wouldn’t do something so simple as go on a vacation of her choosing. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you to Florida. We can go when I get back if you - ”

“It’s not about Florida!” Cece yelled, hands flying to cover her face as she sat on her bed. “It was about doing something I wanted for a change - somethin’ that would make me happy, even if it was inconvenient for you.”

“Are you sayin’ I didn’t make you happy?”

“I’m sayin’ you never tried. You never had to choose between what you wanted and what I wanted. And part of that’s my fault because I stopped pushing. But I did that because I knew what you would say - that you would tell me how tired you were between classes and training. You wouldn’t be home for long over the summer because you would be training on different things and traveling. And you wanted to spend as much time together as possible, and it’d be easier for me to come to you.”

“It was easier - you just had to work around your classes - ” 

“And my job and friends, coming home to see Daddy, and my plans. But those didn’t matter to you because you wanted to spend a week in a shitty hotel with your friends, getting drunk on the beach.”

“Which is what we probably would have done in Florida!” 

“Maybe! But we’ll never know, will we?”

They’d taken a break after that, and the whiskey still burned in Jake's throat when they got back on camera. It was clear that Cece had been crying, and the hand holding her water glass shook when they talked through her move to Virginia. It hurt to hear that she’d had doubts about their future when he’d proposed but thought this could be the fresh start they’d needed. “But it felt like y’all were laughing at me behind my back that day at the beach when I found out you were deploying.”

“I didn’t know until I got there, and you were already… I didn’t know.” 

“But you didn’t tell me when you found out. You kept it from me.” 

“Would you have come?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” he’d said, letting out a frustrated huff. “We’d already been apart five years, and the deployment woulda been one more excuse to keep us apart. You wouldn’ta come there.” 

“I don’t know if I would or if I wouldn’t have because I wasn’t given that choice. You took that from me.” 

“What were you gonna do?” Jake demanded. “You’d already quit your job and packed up. Our future was in Virginia, whether I was there or not.” 

“I could have come back here,” Cece’d shot back, throwing her arms out and motioning to her house. “I coulda spent that time with Daddy. Or stayed in Austin.”

“I was only gonna be gone for seven months.” 

“And you spent almost six lying to me.” 

“We could have had six months together, but you left after two. You didn’t even give us a chance to figure it out before you left. You knew what we were going up against with me going into the Navy, and at the first sign of it being hard, you cut and ran.” 

Her laugh was full of disbelief, bordering on hysterics. She’d moved so fast that her computer turned over, and Jake glimpsed her pacing as the camera pointed at the ceiling. “The first sign?” she muttered to herself. He waited as she walked through her house, setting the laptop on the kitchen counter as she rummaged in a cabinet. 

“Cece.” But she ignored him, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and taking a swig. A grimace crossed her face as she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Baby - ”

“The first sign of it being hard?” she chuckled. “Maybe it was the first sign for you, but I had five years of hard. I didn’t know what we were getting into when you said you wanted to join the Navy, Jake. You looked into it and told me what our life would be like, and I just blindly trusted you. And that’s my fault. I didn’t think about the fact that my whole life would revolve around you and your career, and there was nothing I could do to change that.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she shot back. “My hopes and wants and dreams didn’t matter because the minute you decided what you wanted, that was it. That’s what we were doing.”

“You make it sound like I forced you. You had a choice every step of the way,” he snapped. 

“Between letting you steamroll me or losing you?” A sob broke her voice as she shook her head. “I’m sorry I was a stupid kid who thought loving you was enough.” 

I love you too. And I always will. But I don’t know if that’s enough.

Those words had echoed through his head for years after she left, and he was afraid of hearing them again at that moment. “You say I steamrolled you,” he sighed, “but you never talked to me. You just stay quiet and smile and make me think everything’s okay until you're already out the goddamn door. I’m not a mind reader! You have to tell me what’s goin’ on with you, or I’m gonna assume things are fine.” They stared at one another for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “Were you pregnant after we… after the bar?” 

“No.” Jake was relieved to hear her quick answer and nodded.

“Have you ever been pregnant with our…?”

“No, never.” Shoulders falling, he let his head hang while running a hand down his face. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that - that the woman he loved hadn’t betrayed him to the level of his ex by keeping a kid from him. “No matter what was goin’ on with us, I would have told you if I was… if there’d been…” 

Jake replayed their fight over and over in his head during his deployment. And when sleep evaded, he recalled the sight of her falling asleep in his arms, eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks as she murmured, “I love you, Farm Boy.” It was her face that he focused on when he pulled the ejection handle, as he screamed when his leg caught under his seat and the ligament tore. The promise of getting home to see her and meet baby Tyler, hugging his parents and Will and Ally kept him going when all he wanted to do was give into the pain and stop. 

But he still hadn’t picked up the damn phone since getting back stateside. They’d promised each other time. Jake knew where he stood when it came to them. But she’d accused him of steamrolling her, and he was trying to be better. He wouldn’t let an injury manipulate her back into his arms.

Movement drew his eye. Will leaned out the driver’s side of the old beat-up farm truck, tapping the horn to get his attention. Jake pushed to his feet, fighting against his stiff, injured knee, and nearly fell on his ass as a result. For as much as he was making sure to keep up with his PT, there were still days when it felt like his body was going backward with its recovery. The docs told him to be patient - that he was on track to get back into his jet in a few months - but struggling down a flight of stairs without clinging to the railing for stability made him doubt that. Rather than sit at his desk and recover, he’d decided to burn the vacation hours nearing use or lose territory. A month in Magnolia was better than one watching his friends tiptoe around him. 

“Your ears as busted as your knee?” Will asked, pulling to a stop. Jake flipped him the bird, carefully putting weight on his leg. The last thing he wanted was for it to give out in front of his big brother. “Storm’s comin’ in, and Mama’s got an errand she wants you to run.” 

“Can’t you do it?” Jake sighed, hobbling toward Starlight and turning his back to the truck, hiding the wince of pain. He’d gone too long without taking his meds. 

“Nope. Need a hand there, old man?” Ignoring him, Jake retrieved the saddle he’d removed, wishing his brother would leave. Mounting would be painful enough without an audience. He’d overdone it that morning with chores. When his physical therapist told him moving would help his recovery, he probably didn’t mean getting a couple hundred cows into their milking bays. “Happy to ride her back if you wanna take the truck.”

“I’m fine.” 

“Suit yourself. Don’t get caught in the rain,” Will said, glancing back at the gathering clouds while pulling away. After checking the girth strap and saddle were secure, Jake grabbed the hackmore and stroked Star’s muzzle. She pressed into his hands, almost knocking him off his feet, and he chuckled. Once she was situated, he took a steeling breath while patting her neck and moving to her side. Taking the reins in his left hand, he grasped her mane and used his right to turn the stirrup toward him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he lifted his left leg. His muscles shook with the effort, knee refusing to bend enough to slip his boot into the stirrup. Dropping his foot back to the ground, he cursed under his breath. For someone who’d ridden since before he could walk, it was embarrassing not to be able to mount a horse. 

For fuck’s sake, he’d ridden Broncos bareback for a year when he was 16 before taking a nasty fall and breaking his collarbone. Shortly after, Mama ended that particular hobby, offering to let him barrel race instead. Jake declined. 

Gritting his teeth, he tried again, the tip of his boot grazing Star’s side but not slipping into place. After failing for a third time, he lowered his head, the brim of his hat grazing the horse’s shoulder, and forced himself to take a deep breath. Another clap of thunder boomed, and Jake spotted a sheet of rain moving in from the west. Cursing again, he shifted to Star’s right side. Holding the reins in his right hand felt awkward, fingers twined in her mane when he carefully lifted his right leg, hesitantly putting his full weight on the left. When it buckled, he quickly dropped his foot and steadied himself. “I’m not fuckin’ walking back,” Jake grunted, looking around for something that would serve as a mounting block. He felt a slight twinge of regret for letting his pride get in the way of taking the truck. Frustration with his body not working the way he wanted it to quickly overrode it. 

If he couldn’t mount his damn horse, how the hell was he supposed to climb the ladder into his fucking jet?

Tightening his grip on her mane, Jake took a deep breath. His bum knee only needed to hold long enough to settle his foot in the stirrup. Starlight nickered, ears flicking as she shifted with another boom of thunder. “I know, girl,” he muttered. “Just hold still for me.” Forcing himself to take a few even breaths, he adjusted the stirrup. He’d need to move fast - the balancing exercises the PT gave him were still a struggle, and the last thing he wanted to do was fall on his ass. Mentally counting down, Jake gritted his teeth, gripping the handful of mane and horn tightly. Quickly, he lifted his right leg and jammed it onto the stirrup, feeling it hit the heel of his boot, and stood, swinging his left leg over her hindquarters. Star started as he dropped heavily into the saddle, settling when he gave the reins a quick tug. Grinning to himself, he managed to get his left foot situated and adjusted his seat before taking off his hat and rubbing his sleeve to his forehead. 

Loosening the reins, Jake pressed his heels into her side to get her moving. “Ready to beat the storm home?” he asked, chuckling when she tossed her head. Taking that as an affirmative, he gave Star her head and kicked her into a gallop. Leaning forward in the tack, he pushed onto his feet to give her more room, ignoring his throbbing knee. His hand flew up to keep his hat in place, and Jake couldn’t keep the whoop of joy from bursting out. 

As much as he loved that moment of anticipation before the catapult shot his jet off the carrier, nothing could compare to riding under the open Texas sky. 

When they neared the barn, Jake reluctantly reined her in. Star wasn’t happy as she was forced into a trot - at six years old, she was relatively new to working and still high-spirited. A few feet from the barn, he felt her muscles bunch and watched her ears flick back, tail swishing. She started dancing and hopped, and he quickly tugged the left rein, forcing Star to turn in a circle to keep her from bucking. Getting thrown in the field, where the grass would mostly cushion his fall, was one thing, but he sure as hell didn’t want to hit the hard-packed dirt and have to explain to the flight surgeon why his return to duty had to be pushed back. 

“You got her?” Mama asked, stepping out of one of the stalls. Jake didn’t take his eyes off Star and nodded. “Watch your uncle,” Mama said, and he shot a glance over to see five-month-old Tyler watching him from the pack-and-play everyone fondly called the baby jail. Since Ally had gone back to work - chomping at the bit to get back to taking care of her large animal vet practice after Will managed to talk her into taking four months off - Ty spent days being passed around the Seresins at home. Having been relegated to driving the truck so Will could pitch hay and Pops could check the machinery before the morning milking, Jake spent a lot of time with his nephew sleeping in his car seat beside him. 

Starlight settled with an annoyed stop of her foot, and he took the opportunity to dismount quickly. His left knee buckled when his foot hit the ground, but he stayed upright. Patting the mare’s neck, he flicked the reins over her head and led her to her stall. “Will said you needed me to run an errand?” he said, glancing at Mama. He caught her narrowed-eyed examination of his limp and forced himself to ignore it. Working quickly to remove the tack, he murmured an ‘excuse me’ while moving past her to put it away.

“Don’t worry about brushin’ her - I’ll get it. I need you to run to the grocery store for me.” Biting back a groan, he turned to face her. 

“Can’t Will do it?”

“No, I’m asking you.” The stern look she pinned him was so familiar that he felt like a kid again. For the two weeks he’d been home, Jake was reluctant to leave the farm. Will dragged him to Mickey’s one night for a late toast to him becoming a father, and he’d made a few runs to the feed store with Pops, but he hated how people watched him. The way they stopped him, asking why he was home, for how long, and why he was limping. Betty Roberts had quickly turned away when he glared at her, remembering her cruel words to Cece those few months ago. Hell, even the attention he got from the women in town was annoying. The last thing he wanted to do was flirt with someone who’d grown up seeing him in love with Cece and was taking advantage of the fact that she was away to try and get his attention.  

And if he got one more damn question about his ex.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Shayla. After posting his video, she started losing brand deals, and companies moved away from working with her. While he hadn’t set out intending to hurt her career, Jake wasn’t upset to see it happen. If he and Cece were facing backlash in their jobs, Shayla sure as hell deserved to go down as well. He wasn’t keeping tabs on her, but he’d overheard a loudly whispered conversation at the gas station about her seeing a minor league basketball player. Jake wished the man all the luck in the world - he’d need it to be with a conniving witch like her. 

“There’s a list on the fridge.”

“Can I take Ty with me?” he asked, grinning as he dusted his hands on his jeans and walked over to lift his nephew from the jail. The baby gave him a gummy smile as Jake kissed his chubby cheek and settled him in the crook of his arm. 

“Ally’s on her way to get him.” Sighing, he kissed Ty again and passed him into Mama’s outstretched arms. Even with two weeks left on leave, Jake dreaded going home and not seeing the little guy every day. He’d need to be better about coming home and seeing the family. 

“Call me if you think of anything else you need,” Jake said after a beat. Mama just nodded and bounced her grandson on her hip, tapping his nose. 

“Might check with Ally to see if she needs you to pick up some diapers.” Nodding, he turned and made his way back to the house, sipping a coffee while perusing the shopping list. His eyebrows knit together as he read the random list and walked to the pantry to double-check that the canister of coffee was still mostly full - he’d just opened it a few days ago. 

“What’re you still doin’ here?” a voice asked, and Jake glanced up to see his sister-in-law frowning at him. “Didn’t Mama tell you to go to the store?” 

“I’m on my way. You need anything?”

“Yeah, your ass outta here,” she scoffed, not meeting his gaze as she looked around the kitchen, setting her paper cup from the new coffee shop down on the counter. “Where’s my baby?”

“The barn with Mama.” Smiling, she walked past him, not pausing as her hand smacked his arm. “Hurry up, Uncle Jakey.” 

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his boots from by the back door. The sooner he left, the sooner he could get home and relax.

The cart rattled annoyingly as Jake rounded the corner in the produce section. Mama wanted fresh corn for dinner, but the ears in the bin didn’t look good. The Adams farm stand was on the drive home, so he’d probably stop and grab some. After adding a package of strawberries to the cart, he moved into the dried goods section. Keeping his gaze on the list in hand, he ignored the whispers and side-eyed glances from the other patrons. Going down the coffee aisle, he scanned the shelves, reached for a can, and tossed it into the cart. Jake grabbed the handles and turned around, stopping in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. 

“Oh.” Cece’s eyebrows shot up, her lips parting in surprise. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jake struggled to get the word out around the lump in his throat, which came out half-strangled. “I thought - ” 

“I didn’t - ” Their voices overlapped, and they fell silent, waiting for the other to speak. “You - ”

“When - ” It happened again. “You first.”

“I didn’t realize you were home,” Cece said after a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah. For a few weeks. When did you get back?”

“Last night. When - ”

“Where - ” He smiled at her nervous laugh, and she motioned for him to go. “Where were you?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled with her blinding smile. “New York. I stayed a few days in the city on my way back from Paris.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I think I ate my weight in macarons while I was there.”

“Well, you look great.” And she did. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, and she seemed more contented…. happier, and confident. A cute pink flush colored her cheeks, and he caught her appreciative look at his hat and how his t-shirt clung to his arms.  

“You too. Everything went okay with…?” Concern clouded Cece's face, and he forced himself to stand straight, ignoring the twinge in his knee.

“It was rough, but everyone got back in one piece.” 

“Good.” Something flickered in her eyes, and he watched her lift a coffee cup from the new shop to her lips, her gaze flicking to the shelves. Her tongue darted out to catch a stray drop, and his grip on the handles tightened. “Have you been home long?” 

“From the mission or in Magnolia?” 

“Both.” 

“I’ve been here about two weeks, but I got back stateside about a month and a half ago. Are you, uh… are you gonna be here for a while, or just passin’ through?” Movement over her shoulder caught his attention. A woman pushed her cart toward them, openly staring. Jake shifted his cart in front of Cece’s before moving back to her side. Cece’s eyes flitted toward the woman, and she waited until she was gone before shrugging.

“I’m gonna be here a while. Got some stuff I need to take care of before hitting the road again.” 

“Where are you heading to next?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she shrugged. 

“I’ve got a couple of places in mind.” The hint of mischief in her eyes had Jake shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. It felt like ages since he’d seen that look. 

“Have dinner with me.” The request was out of his mouth before his brain caught up. But Cece just smiled and shook her head.

“I already told Ally that I’ve got plans tonight.” His flicker of worry that she might be meeting up with the firefighter was quickly stifled when she added, “Lucy made me promise to come.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“I’ll be there for breakfast.”

“Great - have dinner with me. I wanna hear about everywhere you’ve been.” While his palm itched to curve around her cheek and kiss away that indecisive look on her face, Jake contented himself with reaching for her hand. Catching her fingers, he squeezed lightly. “Please, Cupcake?” 

Her gaze focused over his shoulder, and he turned to see the woman from before standing at the end of the aisle, talking to someone else as they both stared. Cece watched them when he turned back, and her eyes only moved to him when he stroked his thumb along her finger. It took a moment for him to realize it was her empty ring finger, where his engagement ring had once sat. “Alright.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I wanna hear how you’ve been, too.” Gently shaking off his hold, Cece reached up and flicked the brim of his hat. “It’s good to see you, Farm Boy.” It took all of Jake’s strength and discipline not to catch her wrist and pull her into his arms to kiss that smirk from her lips. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Though he could feel the stares as he finished his shopping, Jake didn’t care. The only thing that mattered were those fleeting glimpses of Cece in the aisles. Whenever they caught sight of one another, she rolled her eyes and smiled. Unsure of where she was, he tried his best not to limp. Too soon, he finished and headed to the checkout lines. When he stepped outside, the rain was coming down. The storm finally caught up with them. Ducking his head, he hurried across the parking lot and tossed his bags into the truck backseat. His shirt was damp and sticking to his skin, and water dripped from his hat when he finally got in after returning his cart. But instead of pulling out, he waited. 

For ten minutes, he kept his eyes trained on the front doors and was finally rewarded with the sight of Cece stepping outside. His hand gripped the door handle when an older man walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. Jake recognized him from the firehouse - one of her daddy’s friends. But just as his foot hit the ground, he watched Cece shake her head and reach into her purse, pulling out an umbrella. Smiling, she stepped out from under the store awning and made her way to her SUV while the man headed in the opposite direction. 

Jake hesitated before shutting his door, watching Cece quickly load her car and return her cart. He couldn’t help but grin when she took her umbrella down and strolled back to her car, heedless of the pounding rain. 

His girl always enjoyed a good storm.

With the chores done and dinner finished, the Seresins went their separate ways. Will, Ally, and Ty were back at the foreman’s house, and Mama and Pops had decided to go into town for an ice cream. Jake declined their invitation, knowing he was getting a bit soft around the middle already with all the homecooked meals and strict orders to stay away from the gym until he was medically cleared. Instead, he saddled up one of the new geldings and went for a ride since the rain had blown through. 

Back under his tree, Jake gritted his teeth as he lay down, left knee bent and heel pressing into the dirt. It ached as he held the position for six seconds before relaxing for thirty and repeating. His physical therapist told him to do the exercises three times a day, and he hated doing them in front of his parents. He could see the worry in Mama’s eyes anytime she saw a flicker of pain in his face. Pops was kind enough to ignore it but would make sure that he took it easy on chores. 

If he was ever going to get back in his damn jet, he needed to push through the pain. He refused to be med-boarded out because of an ejection gone wrong. 

After twelve reps, he stretched his leg out, a moan escaping as his knee straightened. Letting gravity press it straight, he closed his eyes and knitted his fingers over his stomach. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his knee and sweat beading on his forehead. Blowing a breath through pursed lips, he let his knee bend slightly and banged his head back on the grass. “Fuck,” he huffed, knowing he needed to hold the position for at least twenty minutes. 

One of the worst parts about the exercise was that it made Jake stop. While he was moving, pushing away the memories of the mission and his nightmares was easy. But being forced to lie still allowed his mind to wander. To distract himself, he started running through the NATOPs for his jet, making him think about his friends. They were probably getting together at the Hard Deck for a drink and cursing him for not replying to their texts. Coyote had called him two days ago just to make sure he was still alive.

While he appreciated them checking in, Jake couldn’t help but feel jealous that they could still fly while he was grounded indefinitely. As happy as he was to take the SAM to ensure Rooster didn’t get shot down in hostile territory for the second time in as many years, it was still hard to contemplate that he might never feel the thrill of pulling G’s again. The roar of the engine and his seat rattling underneath him. The wind in his hair while standing on the deck of a carrier.

So as much as the exercises hurt, he’d do them every goddamn day to make sure he could get back up in the air. Gritting his teeth, he forced his knee straight again. 

Grunting, he stared at the darkening sky. The crickets were loud, and the fireflies started flickering in the fields. A smile tugged at his mouth as he remembered running through them with Will and Cece, scooping up the bugs in jars Mama put aside for them, and wondered if Ty would do the same when he was a bit older.

If he’d have siblings or cousins to help him with the hunt. 

A stab of regret hit him, and Jake couldn’t help but think about the baby that never was. If she hadn’t lied, he would have been getting ready for his little one to be born. The phantom weight of a baby on his chest was painful, and he cleared his throat. Whenever he thought of them, he’d always figured on having a son - after all, there hadn’t been a Seresin girl in a couple of generations. By now, the nursery would be finished, and he’d be so ready for the little man to arrive. But when he imagined the mother of his child, it wasn’t Shayla that he saw. He could picture Cece big with their child, teasing him as he catered to her every whim. She wouldn’t lift a finger while he was around to do it for her. 

Of all the things that bitch had done to him, going after Cece and giving him the hope of being a father was the worst.

The sound of a car broke the quiet, and he lifted his head to see the farm truck getting closer. The gelding pulled at his rope, and Jake quickly glanced over to make sure he wouldn’t bolt. Will would probably die laughing if his horse ran and make him walk back. But when the truck pulled to a stop, it wasn’t his brother who got out and slammed the door.  

Cece circled the truck and stared down at him, arms crossed over her chest. Jake lurched to his feet, hissing in pain when his bad knee protested the quick movement. “Hey.” His smile dropped when he saw tears shining in her eyes. “Honey?” he said softly. “Everything okay?” Her shoulders rose and fell as she tried to control her breathing, nostrils flaring as she stared at him. The tall grass licked her calves as she stormed toward him, fists clenched at her sides. “Hey, talk to me, Cece,” Jake pleaded while reaching for her.

Wordlessly, she shoved him. Surprised, he stumbled backward but managed to keep his feet. But then she shoved again, moving with him and pushing every time he stepped back. “Hey!” Jake snapped, catching her wrists. She quickly ripped her hands away and pushed harder, a grunt forcing itself out between her clenched teeth. His boot caught on a rock, forcing him off balance, and her next shove sent him sprawling. “What the fuck?” he demanded, pushing up onto his elbows. His back ached and his ass hurt from the fall. A burning sensation had him lifting his right arm to see a line of blood making a trail from his elbow toward his wrist. But Cece just glared down at him, hands planted on her hips. “Jesus Christ, Julie - what the hell was that about?”  

“‘It was rough’?” she hissed. “It was ROUGH?”

“What’re you talking about?” Jake snapped, matching her glare with one of his own. 

“How bad was it?” Cece demanded.

“How bad was what?” The noise she made was a mix of a groan and a scream. Spinning on her heel, she tugged at her hair and stomped away from him. Carefully, Jake got to his feet, trying not to bend his left knee. Cece turned to watch him, and he eyed her wearily. “You shove me again, and you’re comin’ down with me,” he cautioned. The look she gave him was so far removed from the teasing ones she’d give when they were kids and later teens, wrestling out in the field. He was pretty sure dragging her down with him wouldn’t end with a laughing kiss as he pinned her. More than likely, it’d end with an ‘accidental’ graze of her knee to his balls. “Baby, talk to me.” 

“Why? So you can lie to me again?”

“What did I lie to you about?”

“Everyone got home in one piece?” It took a moment for her words to register, and he shook his head when he realized she was talking about the mission.

“That’s not a lie. We all got home.”

“What happened to you?” A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he remembered how it felt when the SAM hit his tail, splitting the jet and sending him into a spin. How disorienting it was, unable to tell the difference between the stars and the ground. Bitchin’ Betty yelling at him to eject as sensors blared. Rooster screaming at him to get out. 

“I’m fine.” Even to his ears, the words sounded hollow. He’d said them so often since getting home they’d almost lost their meaning. Angrily brushing the tears from her face, Cece stalked toward him. Her hands lifted to shove him again, and Jake reacted. His arms wrapped around her waist, tugging so their chests collided. Momentum threw them off balance, and he sat heavily, grunting while taking the brunt of the fall. Cece’s knee brushed his inner thigh, and he clenched automatically, bracing for the pain of a knee to the balls. 

“Let go of me!” she demanded, pushing against his chest. But he ignored her, rolling so she lay under him, her thighs cradling his hips. Catching the hands pushing against him, Jake drew them over her head, wrapping his fingers around her forearms and pinning her to the ground.

“Told ya you’d be goin’ down with me if you pushed me again,” he teased, his laugh turning into a bitten-back moan when Cece planted her feet and lifted her hips to try and throw him off. 

“Get off me, Seresin!” 

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Julie Louise Ryan.” The use of her full name had her glaring at him again, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. 

“Fuck you, Jacob Thomas.” 

“I’d love nothin’ more, baby, but only after you tell me what’s wrong.” She struggled against him but, even injured, he had more weight and strength on his side. With one final buck against him, she sagged into the grass, breathing heavily. 

“You lied to me. Again.” The accusation came out a half sob, and Jake’s heart broke to see her chin wobble. 

“I didn’t lie to you, honey. I’m right here. I’m okay.” 

“You got hurt.” 

“I did.” 

“You didn’t tell me.” The pain in Cece’s eyes was unbearable, especially knowing he caused it. Clearing his throat against the tight feeling, he nodded. 

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Letting go of one of her arms, he wiped away her tears. His palm curved around her jaw, thumb gently tugging her lower lip free of the teeth digging into it. “I’m alright and gettin’ better every day.” 

“What happened?” Her breath was hot against his face. And, while the mission was classified, it was hard to keep the truth from the woman he loved.

“Bad ejection,” he said simply and felt her breath catch. Watched her pulse flutter in her throat. “Tore my ACL and had to have surgery.” Her free hand curled around the back of his sweaty neck, fingers sliding into his hair. Nails lightly scraped his scalp, and his eyes drooped. Shifting, he let go of her other arm, bracing his hand by her head. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“‘M sorry, Cupcake,” he murmured. Dipping his head, he brushed the tips of their noses. Cece’s eyes closed as she turned away from him. Denied her lips, he kissed the hinge of her jaw and throat, switching to the other side when she rolled her head. The unmistakable feeling of her hips grinding against him and knees bracketing his side had him chuckling against her skin. “I love you, baby.” The fingers in his hair tightened, tugging cruelly as Cece took advantage of his distraction to flip them. Yelping, he covered her hand with his, trying to disentangle it as she straddled his hips. 

Leaning down, she kissed Jake’s forehead before letting go of his hair and bracing her hands on his chest, scrambling to her feet before he could catch her. Towering over him, she glared and shook her head, swiping at the tears coating her cheeks. Her voice cracked when she said, “You don’t get to die on me, too, Farm Boy.” 

“Julie - ”

“Save it,” she snapped, turning on her heel and walking away. He tried to catch her ankle but missed. But rather than returning to the truck, she was going toward the gelding. 

“Hey,” he called, struggling to his feet. She was faster, quickly undoing the simple knot he’d secured the lead rope with. “What’re you doin’?” Jake demanded as she gathered the reins in one hand and hoisted herself into the saddle he hadn’t removed. His jeans, already tight, felt a bit more snug after that display. 

Jake had forgotten just how gorgeous Cece was when she rode. 

“Stop over doing it before you put yourself back in the damn hospital,” she scowled. 

“Fine. Get down, and I’ll ride back.” But instead, she ignored him and wheeled the horse around, kicking it into a run. 

“Keys are in the ignition!” Cece called over her shoulder while standing up in the stirrups. Jake was treated to the beautiful view of her ass as they started to run across the field back to the barn, hair streaming behind her. 

“God damn,” he muttered to himself, finally tearing his gaze away. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he retrieved his hat before limping his way to the truck. Just like she’d promised, the keys swayed from the ignition when he got in. But the envelope with his name on it sitting in the passenger seat caught his attention. Frowning, he opened it and saw a stack of postcards.

With the last few rays of sunlight, Jake picked up the first one and saw it was a picture of the Grand Canyon. Smirking, he flipped it over and read Cece’s loopy handwriting.

Farm Boy,

I’m going on the adventure we always talked about. It’s scary to think about doing it alone, but it’s a good scary. I feel like I’ve been waiting around for my life to start, and I’m just tired of waiting for it. I think… I know that I need this. I hate that we’re fighting and that I won’t get to talk to you soon, so I figured this might be a way to talk to you without actually talking. 

It’s probably stupid, and I might forget to do this halfway through. But for now, hello from the Grand Canyon! 

I love you even when I’m mad at you. And isn’t that what matters?

Cece

Will was in the barn brushing down the gelding when Jake reached the house, a teasing smirk on his mouth. “Good ride?” he asked and laughed when he got the finger in response. Mama and Pops were back, sharing their nightly cup of tea. Cece’s car was long gone. After saying goodnight to his parents, he went upstairs and forced himself to shower instead of retreating to his room. 

Hair still damp, he crawled into bed with the stack of postcards and started reading. 

Gripping the railing, Jake slowly made his way downstairs the following morning. He was tired after staying up late and waking up with a nightmare around two. It always sucked to dream about the mission, and usually took him a couple hours to calm back down enough to sleep. Normally, he dozed for a few more minutes before his alarm went off for chores. But last night, he’d gotten through a few more postcards and woken with them on his chest, having fallen back asleep reading. 

The smell of something sweet mixed with coffee and laughter in the kitchen. Following his nose, he paused in the doorway at a sight that made his heart skip a beat. Cece leaned against the counter, Tyler sleeping on her chest as she chatted with Ally. Her hand spanned the little guy’s back, her chin resting on his head as his fingers curled around her t-shirt neck. “Look who finally decided to join us,” Will said, startling Jake. He hadn’t heard his brother come up behind him and wasn’t prepared for the shove to the middle of his back, forcing him into the room. This time, he kept his balance and spun to face his brother. With decades of experience, Will dodged Jake’s attempt to get him into a headlock, quickly batting away his arms. 

“Boys!” Pops snapped. “Knock it off.” 

“Yes, sir,” the Seresin boys chorused. The minute Pops turned back to his conversation with Mama at the kitchen table, Jake smacked the back of Will’s head and moved toward the coffee pot. Glancing at Cece, he fought to smile when she rolled her eyes at him. Her lips pressed to Ty’s head, attempting to hide her smirk, and he barely avoided overfilling his mug. 

Using his nephew as an excuse to get closer, Jake’s hand covered Cece’s on Ty’s back, and he leaned down to kiss the baby’s head. Cece’s shoulder pressed against his chest, and it took all of his willpower not to turn and kiss her, too. “Mornin’ buddy. Ready to go out with Uncle Jake?”

“You’ve had your turn. He’s hanging out with Aunt Julie this morning,” she said, digging her elbow into his stomach. Without thinking, he pinched her side playfully. Mock glaring, Cece hip-checked him and used her free hand to flick his cheek. “Go away. I’m soaking up baby cuddles.”

“Stop being gross around my son,” Ally huffed, thrusting a hand between them and pushing Jake away. 

“You’re supposed to take my side since you’re my sister,” he grumbled, sipping his black coffee. 

“Yeah, well, I like her more,” Ally smirked. “She brings me cinnamon rolls. You just annoy me.” 

“Cinnamon rolls?” 

“They’ll be out of the oven in a few minutes,” Cece said, glancing over at the stove timer before sipping her coffee. She quickly dropped it back onto the counter when Ty squirmed, his little face scrunching as he rubbed against her collarbone. Bouncing him gently, her eyes shot to Ally, who sighed and glanced at her watch.

“Yup, about that time.” Reluctantly, Cece handed Ty over as he started to cry, a pitiful sound that had every adult in the kitchen stopping. Will was quickly at their side, his arm around Ally’s shoulders as he stared down at his son.

“Mornin’, kiddo,” he sighed, cupping his hand to the baby’s head as he looked at his wife. “Want me to take him while you get settled?” She shook her head.

“Mind grabbing the bag? He’ll need a change after.” Nodding, Will pecked Ally’s cheek and walked toward the front door, where the baby bag was stashed. “Save me a roll?” she asked, turning to Cece. 

“Extra frosting.” 

“And that’s why I love you more.” Throwing a wink at Jake, Ally made her way upstairs, smiling when Will walked behind her with his hand steady on her back. Jake felt a wave of envy and tried to tamp it down. His gaze drifted to Cece, who didn’t seem to realize - or mind - that she was leaning against him. Just a little shift, and she’d be tucked under his arm. Setting his coffee mug on the counter behind her, his thumb grazed her back and stroked lightly. Her eyes swung to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning,” she said softly.  

“Mornin’.” His eyes dropped to her mouth as his hand slid along her back to curl around her hip. It’d only take a slight tug and a dip of his head for him to taste the sweetened coffee on her lips. “You sleep well?” Her shoulder lifted, hip pressing further into his grip as she shifted. 

“It’s good to be home.”

“You’ve been gone a lot. Already got through a couple of your postcards.” Pink dusted her cheeks as Cece bit her lower lip.

“I know it was stupid but - ”

“Not stupid. I’m glad you wrote me.” 

“I didn’t think I’d have to face you while you read them,” she admitted. “Was gonna mail them all at once, but when I saw you were back home…”

“You decided to give them to me after stealing my horse?” Mischief shone in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to reply when a beeping interrupted them. 

“It smells good, Julie,” Pops called from the kitchen table, his eyes darting over to where they stood too close. A smile tugged at his mouth, and Jake saw Mama lightly kick him under the table. Cece quickly pulled away from Jake and walked toward the oven, grabbing a pair of mitts from the counter and putting them on. When she opened the oven, the kitchen was flooded with the smell of cinnamon and sugar. 

“Looks like they're done,” she announced, setting the large pan on the stovetop. “Just gonna let them cool a minute before frosting.” It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to ask if she needed a hand, but instead, he stayed where he was, sipping his coffee and watching the love of his life move around the kitchen with a familiar comfort. There was no hesitation as she reached into the fridge to retrieve a container, and she located the drawers with spoons and the kitchen sheers immediately. A piping bag and jar were pulled from a sack on the counter, and Cece quickly spooned frosting into the bag. 

“Need anything?” Mama asked, looking up from her coffee. 

“Nope,” Cece replied, walking back to the stove and piping cream cheese frosting onto the rolls. Abandoning his coffee, Jake retrieved a stack of plates from the cabinet before standing beside her. Cece glanced at him, flicking her wrist with each swirl as she made quick work of the task. “Hand me the caramel sauce?” she asked after covering two rolls with extra frosting, presumably for Ally. Nodding, Jake retrieved the mason jar and twisted the top off. Swiping his thumb over the lid, he tasted the salted caramel and let out an appreciative hum. Try as she might to hide her smile, he caught her pressing her lips together. “Good?”

“I’d eat the whole damn jar.”

“You’ll have to fight Will for that one, but maybe I’ll make you your own if you don’t overdo it today.” 

“Promise?” Rather than answer, she took the jar from him and shoved the piping bag into his hand. He squeeze a bit of the remaining frosting onto his finger, watching her drizzle the caramel over the cinnamon rolls before sticking his finger under the stream. “Hey!”

“Damn, honey, that’s good,” he chuckled, licking his finger clean of the sweet combination as she smacked his chest. 

“Out of my kitchen, Farm Boy.” 

“Pretty sure it’s Mama’s kitchen.” 

“Keep it up, and you’ll be goin’ without.” 

“You’d deprive a workin’ man of his breakfast?”

“Absolutely.” His loud laugh drew his parents' attention. “Make yourself useful and get me another cup of coffee, please.” 

Over breakfast, Pops laid out the plan for the day. After milking, they needed to inspect one of the old buildings in the field the cows used for shade, and the truck needed an oil change. The horse stalls needed cleaning, and a yearling was getting picked up today to head to their new home. Ally and Will joined, Mama taking Tyler while they ate. One of the mares had come in from the corral favoring her leg, so Ally was going to do an x-ray to ensure nothing was wrong since she’d been lame for a few days.

Jake half listened, more concerned with the feeling of Cece’s leg pressed against his under the table. 

Too soon, they were up and moving, clearing the table in preparation for going their separate ways. The dregs of coffee were poured into thermoses before Mama started another pot, and Jake watched as Ally helped Cece wrap a long strip of fabric around her chest before sliding Ty into it. “Guess you’re really stealing my WSO,” he said, coming up behind her to look over her shoulder at Tyler. 

“Told ya,” she shrugged, tickling the baby’s cheeks as he shrieked and kicked his legs. “Gonna go to the hen house and get the eggs before Auntie’s gotta go.” Looking over her shoulder, she seemed surprised at how close he was. “What’s a WSO?” she asked, her voice just a bit breathless. 

“Weapons System Officer,” he replied. “The backseater for a pilot that does all the tech stuff so they can focus on flying.”

“Ah. The backseater you never wanted,” she nodded, remembering those long ago nights when he’d just started flight school. 

“I’d have one if they were like this kid.” Reaching around her, he smoothed a hand over Tyler’s head. It was cover for him to get even closer and say softly, “‘M sorry about yesterday. We still on for dinner tonight?” 

“Want me to make something?” 

“No, let’s go out. I heard there’s a new Italian place. Unless you don’t want people…” Jake trailed off, feeling a spike of anxiety at the thought of Cece not wanting to be seen with him. But after two weeks of being the subject of town gossip, he was also weary of offering up more.

“Italian sounds good. Want me to come get you, or are you gonna borrow the truck?”

“I’ll take the truck. Seven good?” She smiled and nodded, eyes darting behind him. The collar of his shirt got tighter against his throat as Will dragged him backward.

“Let’s go, lover boy. Stop usin’ my son to flirt.” Cece’s laugh rang in his ears as he allowed himself to be towed backward. When he winked, she rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss Tyler’s head. 

True to her word, Cece was gone by the time Jake returned to the house for lunch. He helped himself to another cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll while Pops sliced tomatoes from Mama’s garden for their sandwiches. He’d kept his promise to take it easy on his knee, and spent some time on the couch icing it after eating, waiting for Ally to get back. Pops and Will were heading to the lumber store to get some boards for the new project while he was supposed to help with the horses. 

It took some time to separate Dorrie from her foal, and angry whinnies and stomps filled the barn as the young horse made his displeasure known. Ty babbled from the baby jail, adding to the overall noise in the barn. Dorrie was a sweet mare and stood well when he held the halter so Ally could test the flex of her right foreleg. She’d arrived at the same time as the man picking up the yearling, so Mama took care of the sale while Jake was stuck being Ally’s tech. It was a bit painful to jog back and forth so Ally could study her gait, but it was good to push himself. 

Jake felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He held the horse still and tried to keep the panel steady while Ally took an X-ray. Ideally, it was a three-person job, but she had another appointment to get to, and they couldn’t wait for Mama. After taking some images, she stood and held her hand out for the panel. “Alright, let’s get her back in the stall while I look at this. I think it’s just inflammation, but we’ll make sure.” Nodding, he loosened the lead rope tie and led Dorrie back into her stall. The foal was bucking in the corner, little hooves hitting the walls, but quickly settled down once Jake unclipped the rope. He’d be a fun one to work with, he mused - just a few months old and already about 12 hands tall, almost ready for weaning. He’d make a pretty show horse with a bit of training. 

Coiling the rope around his hand, Jake stepped out of the stall and adjusted his hat. After checking that Ally didn’t need anything, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, eyebrows shooting up to see it was a notification from TikTok. 

Cece had posted. 

It had been months since he’d opened the app. In a moment of weakness, he’d checked to see if she posted anything while he was deployed and ignored the thousands of likes and comments on his video. Unable to stomach it, he’d subscribed to her account and decided he wouldn’t open it again. His thumb itched to hit the notification and watch the first video she’d posted since all the shit went down. “You need me for anything right now?” he asked, glancing at Ally. She balanced Ty on her hip as she peered down at the screen, examining Dorrie’s leg.

“Nope.” He nodded, walking out of the barn to lean against the corral. Wiping his mouth, Jake hesitated before tapping his screen. It took a minute for the app to load, and he caught a glimpse of another video before Cece’s opened. 

“Hey guys, it’s been a while.” And there she was, pouring water into a bowl and mixing it with something. She wore the shirt he’d seen her in yesterday. “I decided to take some time off after everything that happened in December and focus on myself. I’m not sure if I ever told y’all this, but I haven’t traveled much. So that’s what I did.” Clips of her at different places flashed on the screen, a soft song playing in the background. There were forests and coasts, plains and mountains. City skyscrapers and little towns. He recognized the sights from her postcards and wasn’t surprised to see Lucy pop up in a couple of the clips. “I also finished my pastry degree. Before I left Austin, I did one of the two externships I needed, and only had one more six-week externship to graduate. So I worked in a hotel pastry department for a little while and did some exploring.” 

Pictures of her in a white chef coat spun by, mixed in with ones of her hanging out. His eyebrows knit together in confusion - there hadn’t been anything in her postcards about that. And a few of the places she showed looked familiar. Those were gone in a flash, replaced by shots of her on a plane. “But mostly, I just had fun, which has been something I’ve been missing over the last couple of years. I went on my first international flight and spent a couple of weeks in Europe, and can’t wait to get back.” A clip of her eating a macaron in front of the Eifel Tower made him smile. “I really needed to figure out what I wanted to do. For a while, I’ve been thinking about leaving my hometown. I only came home because Daddy was sick” - videos of Brian helping Cece bake played - “and as much as I appreciated getting that extra time with him, Daddy didn’t want me to stay here after he passed. So I used this trip to test out possible places I might like to live.”

Jake's heart raced as he stared at the screen, watching as the travel clips shifted to her kneading dough and rolling it out. Mixing sugar. And he realized she was making the cinnamon rolls they’d had that morning. “I love where I grew up, but it hasn’t been home for a while. So, as much as I appreciate my customers, I’m sad to say that I’ll be officially closing my business in its current location as I’ll be branching out.” The phone shook in his hand, and Jake felt sweat beading on his forehead. “There’s no exact timeline, but I’m headed out west.” 

And there it was. A picture of Cece standing in front of a mural, grinning as she gestured to the giant letters spelling out GREETINGS FROM SAN DIEGO. 

Jake laughed, clapping a hand to his mouth to stifle it as tears clouded his vision. Blinking them away, he turned up the volume to hear Cece as she cut the cinnamon rolls and placed them in the baking dish. “I’m so excited for this next chapter, and I hope you’ll tag along as this country girl tries out city living. As soon as I’m ready to take orders, you’ll be the first to know.” Her eyes lifted from the dish, and she stared directly into the camera, a slow smile gracing her lips. When the video started to loop, Jake sat down hard, dropping his head into his hands as he clicked the comments already in the thousands.

OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK!

California! I’m so excited I’ll get to try your stuff now!

Okay, but what about Jake??? Isn’t that where he lives?????!!!!!!

The last one had over a hundred comments under it and two thousand likes. Shutting the app, Jake pulled up his contacts, thumb hovering over Cece’s name. But instead of tapping it, he locked his phone and got to his feet. Hurrying into the barn, he spotted Mama and Ally standing outside Dorrie’s stall. Both women looked up at him as he jogged toward them, their looks of concern at the tears on his cheek fading when they saw his broad grin. “I gotta go.” 

“You know where the truck keys are,” Mama said. 

“Tell Julie it’s about time,” Ally added. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how long they’d known, but he resisted. 

Dust kicked up under the tires as he tore down the driveway and skidded onto the road. Thankfully, no sheriffs were around as he sped through Magnolia, fighting against hitting the horn at anyone who slowed him down. Soon - but not soon enough - he was turning onto Cece’s road. Her SUV was parked under the carport. 

His boots were loud on the concrete as he slammed the truck shut and flew up the few steps to her porch to pound on the door. The curtain twitched. A heartbeat later, the door flew open, and Cece stood before him. “Were you tryin’ to - ” Jake cut her off, cupping her face and tilting it up. His kiss was frantic, lips crushing against hers as he smiled and laughed. Her fingers gripped his shirt, and Jake was sure she could feel his racing heart. His hands moved to her hips, gently drawing her out of the house and into his arms. “Break it down?” Cece panted against his mouth when they finally broke apart to breathe. Her eyes slowly opened, lifting to meet his. Their second kiss was more gentle, and she sighed when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, opening to allow him to taste her tongue. When his hands dropped to her ass, hauling her closer, Cece laughed against his mouth and gently pushed him away. “We’re not giving my neighbors a show.” 

Were he not injured, Jake would have picked her up and carried her into the house at that moment. But he satisfied himself by peppering her face with kisses until she giggled. “You’re comin’ to California?” Some of the joy in her eyes dimmed, and she gave him a hesitant look. Her hands trailed down his arms to tangle their fingers, pulling him into the house and kicking the door closed. As soon as it shut, one hand went into her hair, the other crossing her chest as though to protect herself. When Jake reached for her, she stopped him.

“I am. I… I did my externship in San Diego and really liked it there.”

“You did? You were there for six weeks? When?”

“While you were gone. I wanted to see if I liked it without you…” her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she tried to find the words. “Clouding my judgment.”  

It hurt to hear that, but Jake knew it was a smart move. “You coulda stayed at my place.” A wry smile graced her lips when she shook her head. 

“I needed a Farm Boy free trip to make my decision.” Teeth dug into her lower lip as Cece reached for his hands, squeezing gently. “Jake, I need you to…” She paused and took a deep breath, forehead dropping to his chest momentarily before her head lifted. Her eyes were guarded when she said, “I’m not moving there for you.” Hurt and fear that she was ending this before it began slammed into him. Jake stumbled back a step, but Cece’s grip on him was firm. “I needed to make that decision for myself, without you. I can’t move somewhere - start my life over again - for someone else. Again. It needs to be for me. I’m going out there because it’s what I want to do. Being with you isn’t the draw. But it’s certainly a perk.” Jake nodded, unable to get a sound out around the lump in his throat. Her brows drew together in concern, and she cupped his face, her thumb rasping on his stubbled cheek as she brushed away a tear. “I love you, Farm Boy.” 

“I love you too, Cupcake,” he forced out after clearing his throat. 

Time seemed to slow as they kissed, and Jake laughed when Cece lifted his Stetson from his head, tossing it toward the couch. Her hands tugged his shirt from his jeans before hooking in his belt buckle and pulling him toward her bedroom. A trail of clothes littered the floor, but neither seemed in a hurry as they took time to explore one another. Jake swallowed hard when Cece kissed the surgical scar on his left knee and ran her hands along his body in search of any other hurts. She trembled with anticipation as he kissed from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, the featherlight brushes of his lips contrasting with the coarse feeling of his beard. On his way back up, his shoulders forced her thighs wide as he took her apart with deliberate care, reveling in the feeling of her hands tangled in his hair and the soft gasps and moans she let out.  

Cece could see her arousal coating his mouth when she opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her and tasted herself on his tongue. Jake’s cock was hot and hard on the crease of her hip, and he shuddered when she lightly ran her nails down his spine. The tips of her fingers dug into the tense muscles of his lower back, forcing him to bite back a groan. Her touch felt so fucking good. Especially her leg lifting and curling around his hip. “Baby, I don’t have a condom,” he sighed, swallowing hard as his cock slid through her wet folds. 

“In the drawer,” she replied, nipping his lip playfully. Jealousy shot through him at the idea of her having those, using them with someone else. It must have shown on his face because Cece laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Some farm boy fighter pilot came through Magnolia over Christmas and left before we could use them.” 

“What an idiot,” Jake chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. 

Cece’s laugh was music to his ears as he reached into the drawer, her fingers following the trail of hair on his stomach as he rolled the condom on. The sweet sound was only a second to the gasping moan she let out when he pressed into her.

And, for the first time in a decade, Jake Seresin felt like he was home. 

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

Author's Note: Oh man, this chapter was so fun and sad to write. Watching Twisters definitely helped to develop Cowboy Jake more, and I was so excited to write him getting back to his roots, and figuring out how to mix Hangman with Farm Boy. And to see how Cece grew. She has needed to leave her home for a long time, and needed to make her own decisions regarding her life.

And, while I said that this was the last chapter, I decided to break the epilogue off into a separate part since this chapter is already massive. Apologies for that 😅 I debating cutting parts but May yelled at me to leave it.

Read the Epilogue

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.” 

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

[tired-reader-writer]

Best female AoB character in your opinion?

Boy oh boy do I got Opinions™ about female characters in AoB!

So the thing is that if you plunked any given female character in front of me, my opinion is bound to be at least a little bit positive on some level. Yes, even Veronica. Yes, even Detlinde. Especially Detlinde. And many, many more.

So much so that I had a very difficult time narrowing things down to answer this ask— and unfortunately for y'all I thunk™ about it too much and was ultimately unable to narrow it down to one.

So we're getting: Charlotte, Detlinde, Hirschur, and Delia.

FOUR CHARACTERS, BABY. LET'S GO!

Charlotte

Charlotte is a very fascinating character, in my opinion. Generations' worth of grudges and torment and abuse, all crystalizing in this generation— crystalizing in her. Veronica's pain (because yes she did have a fucked up childhood, doesn't excuse any of her abuse but it does put it into perspective: it shaped her and she literally is passing the pain down) passing onto her children, Georgine's pain passing onto Sylvester, Sylvester's fears and Florencia's all reaching, reaching, reaching down until it got to her. Many people were affected by this chain reaction, undeniably, but in my opinion Charlotte is the point on the map where all these lines converge. Veronica took her brother and more than likely ostracized/abused Charlotte as she did Florencia. This made Florencia try to train her to be Aub. There must've been a touch of desperation in that choice. What does it do to a child, when they know they're being raised for a larger purpose? Their reason for existing? To know everything's laid on their shoulders? Sylvester on the flipside declared Wilfried as heir because he didn't want Charlotte to go through the pain his sister went through of being raised all her life to be Aub only to be snatched away, to be allowed to have a more hazard-free life in his eyes. But his approach, even as it stemmed from love (he loves, he loves so much, his love hurts, but this post ain't about him even as I regard him as an honorary girl bc he's hated as much as many other female characters seem to be but I digress), did not help as he is blind to what his children need (his love is deep as the ocean and twice as blind)— he projects onto Charlotte, and that… makes her feel small. Useless. Unworthy. What does it do to a child, to have your entire purpose be snatched from you? To be made to feel like your father does not see you as capable or worthy?

How do you deal with the weight of all these generational chains on your limbs?

How do you deal with the devastation of walls closing in on you?

Well, how do you?

Charlotte definitely has a complicated dynamic with her family members. Even Rozemyne. Especially Rozemyne. We'll… get to that in a bit.

Sylvester neglects her. I don't think that's up for debate. I am among his most ardent defenders (though it mostly stays in DMs since… I'm not convinced it would be received well) and I can freely say this. He neglects Charlotte. I don't think he dislikes Charlotte or prefers Wilfried or anything, but his way of expressing his love is undeniably detrimental to her well-being and antithetical to what she wants and needs. He's projecting his and Georgine's dynamic onto his children, and in trying to prevent animosity and bitterness he creates exactly that. In Charlotte's eyes, her father favors Wilfried way too much and neglects her, who has been desperate for someone, anyone, to acknowledge her.

Charlotte and Florencia as well, they have a fucked up dynamic. Florencia raised her to be pitted against Wilfried. What does that do to a child.

I understand why Florencia did it but it would've fucked Charlotte up!

She was raised for this purpose, by her mother, and said mother just stands by and lets it happen when her father takes her purpose away.

There's something fascinating to be found here. So much more fascinating than whatever AO3/Discord folk try to milk out of Rozemyne-Florencia. Charlotte's sense of obligation probably has a root somewhere in her younger years.

She's not even the center of the conversation when it comes to the subject of Sylvester's parenting. She isn't! She just isn't! Rozemyne is the focus 99% of the time!

He's neglecting her. EVERYONE is. She has nobody in her corner and yet she's expected to support everyone else.

Even though she might even resent Myne (for promising to support her and then Not Doing That) she wouldn't allow herself to feel/express it bc Myne risked her life to save hers.

The guilt! The sense of obligation/gratitude! The resentment!

I think she redirects a lot of what she might feel towards Myne onto Wilfried, a much less complicated recipient. But she still doesn't, can't, express it outwards because... well. Myne. For Myne's sake.

While Myne revels in her adoration, she doesn't care about Charlotte as a person. She has no true allies, her brother and father ignore her, and her sister looks at her without seeing her.

I keep remembering the fanbook tidbit of Charlotte being an ornament to Myne. She doesn't think Charlotte is capable of anything except looking cute and motivating her. If only the story and the fandom acknowledged that… but nope! She's just there to prop up Myne and bash Wilfried.

I don't quite think she's transmasc either. Yes, I know, I said the opposite before but it was me trying to fit in and figure out her character and after giving it much thought… her storyline deals with systemic misogyny, not gender dysphoria. She wants to be acknowledged for what she is, her capabilities, I don't think she's feeling any worse for being regarded as a girl in of itself— and I am of the opinion that it somewhat undersells her struggle and sweeps the misogyny she's facing under a rug via dressing it up with a queer headcanons. At the end of the day though, people are free to have any headcanon or opinion they so wish, and I have no authority over that. Also fyi I'm genderfluid in case someone accuses me of being transphobic.

All in all, I think she's such a fascinating character because she's the nexus at which all these lines all this hurt all this cumulative trauma from so many generations and so many directions converge into a white-hot light. Gabrielle, Leisengang, Veronica (look, she's a villain and I'll never excuse her for basically choking out an entire population, but I think she had a hard childhood that few acknowledge and more try to excuse and justify), Sylvester, Florencia, Georgine…

She had such potential. And what'd she get in canon and fics? Okay this is making me depressed let me move onto the next character on this list:

Detlinde

Ooooh boy, where do I even begin with Detlinde? She's my babygirl she's my blorbo she's everything. She is to me what Ferdinand is to the rest of the fandom. I will defend her every deed to my dying breath.

So I'll start by doing just that.

She's been neglected. Like, seriously. Do you think Georgine genuinely cares for her? Gieselfried? Do you think she has anyone who's truly on her side?

To take an excerpt from a fanbook (people regard them as like, gospel, right?):

Q: Lady Detlinde spins her wheels a lot during tea parties. Is she, by any chance, a bit thick?

A: She doesn't pay as much attention to her words and surroundings as someone her age and with her status probably should. She's not entirely to blame, though. As the third child of her duchy's third wife-and a girl, to boot-she had a half-hearted upbringing and was never expected to amount to much. That's why she's so proud about her mother becoming the first wife and why she always boasts about being Ahrensbach's next aub.

(Credits to @ming-sik for bringing me this fanbook quote, he actually read through the fanbooks at people's recommendation, so! Thank you!)

Children are always more perceptive than people think— they absolutely pick up on the fact that a particular adult doesn't really care or that they might hurt them, it's just that their defense mechanism kicks in to shield them from the fact since having your sole source of protection and guidance hate you is an earth-shattering revelation for a child to confront and acknowledge.

I've seen fics justify this neglect by saying even Georgine gave up on her because she was Just That Dumb or something like that. Which, even if you subscribe to that kind of narrative, it still doesn't make it not abuse. It still doesn't make it not neglect. No child should be abandoned simply because they did poorly in academics. Yes, this goes against AoB's (admittedly ableist) “if you're not of use then you deserve any bad thing that comes your way” theme, goes against YS's standards, but I am my own person with my fully formed morals and worldview, not a Yogurtlander with Yogurtlander morals, and I shall judge characters from my perspective.

(It is also in a similar vein that I dislike the notion that Charlotte's neglect is bad because she's more competent than Wilfried, no child under any circumstance deserves abuse or neglect, in my opinion.

People somehow stop registering abuse as abuse when it's happening to a character they don't like. Detlinde being drugged and likely assaulted is her fault and she's a whore. It's her fault she got discarded and neglected by her parents anyways. Wilfried deserves to be imprisoned in the Ivory Tower. They don't seem to think it's “real” abuse if the victim did something that “justifies” punitive narrative violence, it's just really unpleasant to see.)

With all that context in mind, I think this puts Detlinde's behavior into perspective. Being conveyed to, both explicitly and implicitly, that she is unlovable, she will never amount to anything, she's not wanted, she's not useful, all those things, she copes. She copes by loving herself because no one else would— though she spins it as “they just don't realize how awesome I am because they're too dumb for it”.

Remember what I said about children's defense mechanism kicking in to shield them from the fact since having your sole source of protection and guidance hate you is an earth-shattering revelation for a child to confront and acknowledge? Same principle here.

When people around her, all around her, constantly and routinely imply and convey that she's all these negative things, when they try to shoot down her ideas (you can't tell me her whirling dress and hair was bad, you haven't seen half the historical fashion in our world, the bling, the shine, the detail— any historical hairstyle, southeast asian headdresses of gold studded with gemstones, beetle wings intricately embroidered onto garments, the absolute flair, I find it hard to fault her for wanting something pretty, YS's fashion is so very bland), not listen to her, not guide her, all that, I think her narcissism is not only a predictable kind of trauma response/defense mechanism for her to develop but one could even argue it is virtuously defiant. Whereas Ferdinand chose to embody noble society ideals (don't try to tell me he's some deviant, he's just not), Detlinde stubbornly tries to maintain an ironclad grasp on what she feels is true to her.

I do not want to hear any of you come to tell me that Detlinde sucks, actually, because I've had to sit and watch as the entire fandom trashes on her and insults her and calls her a whore— if there's anything all three branches of the AoB fandom (reddit, discord, tumblr) agree on, it's that Detlinde deserves to be hated. I have had to live with y'all's vitriol all this time, don't bring this onto the sole post in the entire internet that sympathizes with her. Good? Good.

How am I to sympathize with a grown man over a fifteen-year-old girl who didn't even want the marriage in the first place? How am I to sympathize with a twenty-something man who is such a shitheel to her in every regard, manipulates her with the intention to have her dead eventually? She was so happy. She didn't want the marriage at first but she was so happy to have someone who seemed to appreciate her. Isn't that sad?

Detlinde is the Atlas holding up the sky of her entire self. No one else will do it for her, so she must. All alone.

She's such an interesting character to me. Too bad Kazuki hates girls/women and children and Detlinde is clearly written to be a shallow, hateable villain. And the fandom? Completely fell for that! Not a single soul besides @ming-sik and I refused to regard her as a fucking demon.

I love her because she's defiantly confident. A crystal flower in a collapsing cave. So dazzling, so beautiful because of it.

Uhhhhh how to end this section— okay let's do a quick-fire round of other shit I like about her:

She's pretty. Like super, super pretty. Shame people constantly give her shit for resembling Veronica.

She's funny. She's so fucking funny. Among the most amusing characters to me for sure.

HER BLING. I know people like to make fun of her fashion but! Her whirling fashion didn't even look bad to me! Also she has my single most favorite adult updo style. It's so elegant and pretty.

She's silly. I guess this also falls under the funny umbrella but she's such a silly goose I love her.

She's just a normal girl. She likes pretty things and plushies and is bad at school. She'd KILL it in a modern setting. I can so easily picture her at a cafe or an arcade. She wasn't born for YS she was meant to be somewhere happier!! Tragic!

She forces the AoB fandom to think about a woman at any cost. They can't get her out of their heads. So many fics exist just to bash her. Someone even made up OCs just so they could write more Detlinde bashing. Feminist queen.

Now to move onto another funny character who might have some surprising depth:

Hirschur

She's such a mood. She's my silly goose. She doesn't care about being proper or whatever. Stay unbound, queen.

Hirschur is so interesting (and endearing) to me because she isn't someone who gives a shit about societal conventions. She's quite un-noble-like for a noble lady. She's kind. She's eccentric. She would stand against the world for her students. The ones who have nowhere else to go. One would think Ferdinand would see her as his savior or a parental figure considering she did practically raise him (as he stayed in the RA all year long instead of going back home) and he just ghosts her as soon as he graduates. Hirschur takes in Raimund and Ferdinand has the audacity to get pissy about it. Dude. SHE'S JUST DOING AS SHE'S ALWAYS DONE.

She helps people! That's what she does! Hirschur spins it as for selfish reasons or bc of her whims but the truth is that she is just kind. I don't think it's a coincidence at all that both students she took under her wing as personal apprentices had no one else to turn to. She frames it as “picking out interesting/promising students” but the fact remains that she shields outcasts from the rest of the world. Heck, she tells Sylvester to keep not supporting her so that she isn't beholden to the archduke to choose who she's allowed to help! She! Doesn't give a shit! About politics!

Hirschur's isolation is way more compelling because she USES it to help people and clearly conflicts with noble expectations of faction politics. She ain't got no time for this faction politics nonsense she's got research to do and students to help!

She's actually eccentric too. She's actually an interesting freak. Her eccentricity puts her in a position where she doesn't really rely on people's approval of her or her choices. She does what she wants and if you get hissy and pissy about it then that's a you problem. She's willing to accept a massive drop in her resources (FOR research at that, she's fucking poor) because it means she doesn't have to isolate a kid with no other options.

It baffles me and honestly kinda irritates me that she's not appreciated enough, not by the characters, not by the fandom. Ppl make such a big deal about Ferdinand seeing parents go to hell and back for their children and it doing smth to him but... he's experienced that. He received that. Hirschur stood against the world for him. While he's having his pity party trying to cure Myne's amnesia, he only flashes back to his father Adelbert. Dude. STOP THINKING ABOUT THE SPERM DONOR THAT LET THE ABUSE HAPPEN, THINK ABOUT THE WOMAN THAT PROTECTED YOU. Like Ferdinand, what about all the other people in your life. There are so many people who love you, why do you not care???? In hindsight, him acting like a poor unfortunate abandoned soul in the temple is just insulting. He says all of “us” were abandoned to Myne but he wasn't abandoned. He's only in here because his brother is clumsily but genuinely trying to protect him and he ghosted his support network. Sylvester's attempt was misguided and he was trying to say “You're capable and I trust you and you have a place by my side, please stay by my side” by giving him work. He was trying to— okay I'll stop now this post isn't about Ferdinand and Sylvester it just makes me fucking mad the way Ferdinand acts. Ferdinand, my guy, you want family? WHAT ABOUT THE WOMAN THAT STOOD AGAINST THE WORLD TO MENTOR YOU?????????? Hirschur helped him well enough that he was happy and “having the time of his life” during his RA years. She worked so hard for that boy and for what.

She's just. Unappreciated.

But then again a female character having the fandom's attention might not be a good idea since somehow someone will eventually find a way to demonize her too.

Anyhow her eccentric brand of kindness is much more interesting and infinitely more compelling than Ferdinand's “hard-to-understand-kindness”. He isn't kind, he's just mean.

Hirschur never even told Ferdinand that Veronica was cutting her off for sheltering Ferdinand. Because that's the choice she made and she stands by it and that's not her student's problem. She probably didn't want him to feel guilty.

ALSO another disclaimer because I know this fandom too well: I will neither entertain nor respond to any commentary on this post that pertains to Ferdinand because I just know people are going to derail the entire conversation and center the discussion around justifying this golden boy on a post meant to spark a discussion about female characters that never get discussed at length. Do not comment or reblog saying Ferdinand isn't bad actually because blah blah blah reason. We have had to read y'all's extensive Ferdinand posting all this time. Everyone talks about Ferdinand and not about any of the female characters to the same extent. Keep that blue thing off this post. You can bear for things to not be about him for once. Okay? Okay.

Other reasons I like her:

She's funny. She's so funny. She's so entertaining.

She's adaptable and open-minded. When she saw Myne's PandaBus she went “oh! makes sense!” and immediately adapts it into something that makes sense to her. This is in contrast against Ferdinand who despite being a “genius innovator” only ever acts like a stick-in-the-mud-with-no-imagination.

I've said this before but she doesn't conform. She's proudly eccentric.

Everything people like about Ferdinand is actually true about Hirschur, in my opinion. Her kindness is disguised but she does have a heart of gold, she's ostracized and poor, she's a genius, she's unhinged and eccentric, she doesn't conform, she's even aro coded.

Again, do not try to defend Ferdinand on this post, we've had to live with people misinterpreting and bashing and insulting our faves (if they don't outright ignore them) all this time, I'm not even calling Ferdinand anything on the level of “whore” or “homewrecker”. Deal with it.

And now we move onto the next girl— last but not least is:

Delia

She's so tragic. Her entire situation is so tragic. How do people hate this girl I'm gonna cry.

First of all, she's a victim of grooming and manipulation— and she is a child. She is, what, eight years old? when she first appears.

Just wanted to establish that right off since I don't think even Myne sees her as a child.

She was being actively manipulated and used by the primary adult figures in her life, she views becoming a mistress as a good fate because at least she won't be starving and surrounded by death in the dark. She was “rescued” because she was pretty. Of course she'd cling onto that!

She doesn't understand what a “family” is because she's never had one and she was never raised with love. She asks Myne, “Are things like family really all that great? I never really understood what a family is.” and Myne replies “It's where I belong. It's the one place where I feel the most at ease.” and yeah! That's an honest and genuine answer! It gives Delia much to think about, and being raised in the Temple with no love… what else would she assume but “No matter how well I serve you, you'll end up leaving me anyway. Right, Sister Myne?”

This is a situation in which neither of them are at fault— Delia asked, so Myne answered honestly, and Delia… yeah. Why wouldn't she assume that. Why wouldn't she want to turn to the “certainty” she's familiar with, rather than give her heart to someone who'll leave her anyways? With Dirk she finally understands love, finally understands what family is, and she's so desperately terrified of losing this, the one unambiguously good thing in her life that doesn't have complicated stuff attached to it. Why wouldn't she try to protect it, protect him? Why wouldn't she want to be with him all throughout? And Ferdinand and Myne, they deliberately keep shit from her! They deceive her and make it seem like they're ripping her little brother from her for no reason, of course she feels cornered and threatened! And remember what I said about certainty vs the unknown? Thinking (well, knowing, really, because was she wrong at all?) Myne would leave her no matter what she does, thinking Myne would never trust or prioritize her (I mean, she didn't, Delia never got to exit the Temple w Myne like Fran and Gil did), and Bezewanst (the one who “saved” her) promises her that he'd not only find a better future for Dirk but also allow her to be with him? What's a young desperate child gonna do? Maybe if somebody had properly communicated with her, this wouldn't have happened.

And then she gets trapped in the place she feared anyways, never allowed to leave (she never got to leave the Temple in the first place).

And then her brother gets torn from her anyways.

They just trap her there forever. She never gets to be anywhere or go anywhere.

And I'm just… supposed to be fine with that?

Yeah, yeah, mercy, mercy, blah blah blah, I wish Myne would've planned for this to be temporary and not forever unto Delia's death. But nope! Myne never retracts her decision ever! Like hell Sylvester would've known what Delia's worst fear was, she could've just lied.

ANOTHER disclaimer: my god please do NOT come at me with justifications on why Delia's fate was fine and warranted, actually. I have seen fandom discussions and such justify it to hell and back and some even say Myne should've just let her die. If you're one of the people who think Delia deserved it, GO AWAY.

The way many people talk about her, if they talk about her at all, makes me think they genuinely do not recognize that her situation is fucked, that CSA and grooming are harmful at all. So there was once this fic I read. In the dedicated discussion space for that fic, both author and audience alike were like: “she's so dumb for wanting to be a mistress she doesn't know what reality is she just thinks it's easy glamorous work so we should traumatize her to teach her a lesson about reality but also to punish her for ‘having caused the attack on Myne in canon’ as well we're so smart” via making her watch a woman in labor. Which she of course got traumatized by.

Way to miss the point.

Way to miss the fucking point.

She's so desperate to be a mistress not because she thinks it's glamorous work but because she's terrified of being trapped in a place that neglected and starved her! It's a desperation for survival! It's a trauma response! Gods above, people are incapable of sympathizing with children (especially if they're girls) in this fandom and series.

Delia is… well. She's such a tragic character. Her wanting desperately to be saved from something that she also thinks is completely normal is… it's interesting. It's heartbreaking. I must sound like a broken record by now. Her upbringing and trauma actually informs the actions she takes, and she gets to have an effect on other characters! Her choices aren't without consequence, and that makes her interesting unlike a certain blue someone whose dickishness doesn't affect anything negatively ever. People in this fandom act as though trauma and its effects are only limited to affect dumb people. (A la someone saying trauma can't be the root of a certain character's dickishness bc it's “too sentimental” for that character, ignoring how trauma is illogical and affects you in ways you might not even notice). People insinuate she's dumb and had it coming. It's just so exhausting and disheartening to see. Thankfully, tumblr folk don't talk like that, because they don't talk about her at all. Nor about any other female character to the extent everyone talks about Ferdinand. I swear to god he's the only thing anyone ever talks about.

So yeah! Four female characters I find most compelling. Probably not anyone's pick, except Charlotte though she isn't talked about and explored in-depth to the same extent as a certain other character is. She just gets mentioned as being better than Wilfried and it's all done, no need to talk about everything else about her. I hope this post was able to give a new perspective to people who might not have considered thinking this much about these characters! Pretty please do keep negativity about them off this post, I do not need to know you want to put twenty bullets through Detlinde's body or whatever.

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof - Alternative Ending

Summary: Starts immediately after Chapter 5 where you unwittingly sacrificed yourself to keep Wanda alive.

Word count: 5k+ | Tags: Angst and character death(s) | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: This was suggested by @dogsandlife, and I'm super glad for it because I was already toying with this idea. I just couldn't bring myself to hurt most of you so I went ahead with the other plot. But for my angst-loving readers, I hope you enjoy this alternative ending :)

Series Masterlist

-

The compound is anything but quiet. 

One can hear hushed whispers, the shuffling of feet, and the distant drones of machines. It's not loud, but there's a heavy feeling in the air. Grief. Everyone's dealing with the recent destruction—surgeries, reports, nights where sleep just didn’t come. Death. 

Today's supposed to help them find some closure, but it's obvious a lot of them aren't there yet.

Steve stands at Wanda's door, fist raised. He hesitates, almost knocking a few times, but eventually just taps softly with his knuckle on the wooden panel. “Wanda?” he asks, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Nothing.

She hasn't been seen since the first night they arrived at the other base, where Wanda went straight to the room she was assigned to. The only clue that she's still managing is that Vision leaves food outside her door every day, and when he returns later in the day, most of it remains untouched, but he can tell Wanda has taken at least a bite or two. 

It’s far from the ideal diet of an Avenger, which leaves Wanda being indisposed in the meantime; though the rest of the team was successful in neutralizing and the people who masterminded the attack on the compound two weeks ago. 

Out of concern for how she might react, especially given how deeply your loss affected her, the team has kept this news from Wanda. They want to ensure the prisoners are safely relocated to a hard-to-track location before she learns of it. There's a shared apprehension that if Wanda discovers this prematurely, she might take matters into her own hands.

Steve senses that Wanda might already be aware, and her chilling silence may not just be due to grief. Part of it could stem from her resentment towards the team for withholding the information, preventing her from seeking the second thing she desires most after having you back—revenge.

(What Wanda yearns for the most is your return, but that's a reality no longer possible in this universe.)

Despite this, Steve pushes on, “The ceremony's about to start. Everyone's waiting. We don’t want to start without you. They were important to all of us, but I get that they were even more to you.”

The stillness from the other side of the door is almost suffocating.

Steve’s voice becomes impossibly softer as he tries again, “Wanda, I can't imagine how you feel right now. But we're here for you. We're family, remember?”

Steve strains his ears, hoping to catch the faintest whisper from Wanda, but the only sound that meets him is the steady hum of the central air conditioning. Time drags on awkwardly, and just when Steve is about to leave, a faint, broken voice emerges from the room. 

“They're gone, Steve.”

Swallowing hard, Steve nods, voice thick. “I know, Wanda. I know.”

He does know. Perhaps more than anyone on the team, save for Natasha. He's experienced profound losses throughout his life: his best friend, the woman he loved, even time and an entire era.

He wants to impart all of these to Wanda, but he’s afraid of invalidating the pain that Wanda’s feeling right now. 

And so, a brief, quiet moment passes between them before Steve rejoins the others.

-

The scene is chaos—the aftermath of unimaginable power unchecked.

Dust fills the air, and broken debris is scattered everywhere. The once-familiar corridors of the team's quarters are now unrecognizable. Everything is obliterated. The structure has been reduced to fine dust, making it impossible to discern that the remnants were once beds or lamps. Not even sound escaped her wrath.

The others soon rush in, Steve, Natasha, and Sam at the forefront. The sight that greets them is unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. Everything is utterly pulverized, and at the epicenter is Wanda, holding your limp body close to her.

For a moment, the scene before them leaves them at a loss for words, until Steve's gaze locks onto you, covered in blood with your arms hanging lifelessly. Steve radios the others, quickly outlining the situation. He struggles to describe it without revealing the full extent of Wanda’s powers, of which they were previously unaware.

Sam surveys the area for potential threats. “All clear!” he announces, not realizing the hidden danger masked by the visage of a mourning ally. Steve, however, spots it immediately from a distance.

The situation isn't volatile due to enemies nearby.

It's volatile because of Wanda.

“Wanda, what happened?” Natasha ventures, attempting to cut through the escalating tension. Yet Wanda's eyes stay locked on you, murmuring unintelligibly under her breath.

“Wanda!” Natasha's voice sharpens with alarm. “Snap out of it!”

But Wanda refuses to budge, ensnared in her own maelstrom of anguish and remorse. As her hands begin to glow with a familiar red hue, she whispers, her lips curling in a crazed half-smile, “I can save you.” 

Recognizing the imminent danger of Wanda's erratic powers, Natasha lunges forward to intervene. “Wanda, no!”

Her plea is met with an almost tangible wave of force. The sheer power from Wanda's emotions sends Natasha hurtling backwards, taking her off her feet. Recognizing both the immediate peril and a fleeting chance, Steve reacts without hesitation. He gathers you into his arms, holding you close to shield you, and makes a break for the Quinjet's safety.

Sam, after a momentary stagger, hurries over to Natasha's side. He extends a hand, helping her to rise. Together, they turn their attention back to Wanda, eyes fixed as they witness the raw display of her struggle, the internal battle to regain control over her formidable powers. Eventually, as if a storm subsides, Wanda's energy recedes. She collapses, emotionally and physically spent. Her eyes glisten with tears that soon spill over. 

“I—I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry…” Wanda stammers, bringing a hand to her mouth in horror at her actions.

Natasha cautiously approaches, ignoring the lingering pain from her fall. She carefully wraps an arm around Wanda, offering what comfort she can. “It’s okay,” she whispers, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Sam surveys the scene, taking in the devastation and recognizing that not all of it was the enemy's handiwork. “We can't stay here,” he warns urgently. “We'll have company soon, and not the kind we want.”

Emerging from the Quinjet, Steve's motions for them to hurry. “Let’s go. Y/N needs help. Now.”

Natasha quickly takes in Wanda's dazed state and knows she needs to act. “Come on, we need to move,” she says, gently guiding her friend by the arm toward the jet.

As they get closer, Natasha throws a glance over her shoulder at Sam. “You coming?”

He hesitates, scanning the area. “I'm staying. Someone's got to help out here.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but with everything going on, she just nods, helping Wanda up the ramp. As the jet's engines ignite and they ascend, Sam's focus shifts back to the ground, the sheer magnitude of Wanda's episode hitting him. A distance away, he spots a few incinerated bodies, possibly caught in the sphere of Wanda’s wrath. Walking cautiously among the fallen, a chilling realization dawns on him: he can't tell who was with them and who was against. Allies and enemies, all indistinguishably mixed in the wake of Wanda's powers.

He feels a knot in his stomach. “Oh, Wanda,” he murmurs to himself, “what happened here?”

-

Though the clear skies suggest fair weather, the ceremony feels grim, leaving behind an eerie atmosphere that steadfastly clings to the hallways and corners you once roamed. All attendees are dressed in their finest black attire, but the pristine garments can't hide the profound sadness of the occasion.

Everyone is present except for a seat in the first row. Every now and then, Steve's eyes would drift toward the entrance, half-hoping, half-dreading that Wanda might walk in. The funeral begins with a brief sermon from a priest, despite no one being certain of your religious beliefs. Yet, it's protocol. It has always been the manner in which they bid farewell to a comrade, so everyone quietly follows suit.

Each of the Avengers, save for Wanda, takes a turn at the podium, sharing humorous and touching stories about you. They all wear the same regret and guilt on their faces, wishing they could have done more, could have treated you better, could have gotten to know you more. The eulogies are largely light in tone, and it's unclear whether it's because they wish to remember you fondly or if their bond with you was merely superficial and insincere.

Except for Daisy, the last person to speak, who seems to be taking it particularly hard. She gets choked up talking about how you took her under your wing, always sharing what you knew and helping her train. And when she needed a place to sleep, you gave her your own bed. She returns to her seat, tears silently streaming, and there's a brief, uneasy moment when no one steps in to comfort her.

They all glance around, seeking out Wanda. Their eyes eventually land on Steve, who simply responds with a solemn shake of his head. 

The entire ceremony lasts just under an hour. As the last notes of the eulogy fade and people start to head out, everyone gradually returns to their routine. For many, it's the last time they'll reflect or speak about you.

That same night, as Steve is about to wind down in his office, lost in thought, Vision phases through the wall. There's a resigned expression on Vision's face, momentarily making Steve forget that he isn't human. Reflecting later, Steve appreciates how Vision's virtue and outlook are more human-like than many individuals he's encountered throughout his life.

“Captain Rogers,” he starts, “Wanda has…chosen to sequester herself in Y/N's former cell.”

Steve looks up sharply, a crease forming on his brow. “Why would she do that?” 

He had anticipated something like this might occur, but he's baffled as to why Wanda would choose your old cell over your bedroom, where all your belongings still remain.

“I can't say I fully grasp the intricacies of the human heart, but maybe she's looking for a connection or a spot to grieve. Y/N’s room, with all its memories, might just be too overwhelming for her,” Vision offers, seemingly reading Steve's thoughts.

Hearing this, Steve glances at the approval document he must sign, allowing the compound's admin office to begin clearing out your bedroom. He's been putting off signing it, thinking Wanda might need more time with your belongings around. But now he wonders if erasing traces of you might help her come to terms with the loss.

Steve considers Vision’s words for a moment before nodding slowly. “Thanks, Vision. I'll go see her.”

-

Wanda is glued to your side, her fingers so tightly interwoven with yours that it's hard to tell where one hand ends and the other begins. Every now and then, she gently squeezes, perhaps hoping to feel a reassuring squeeze back. Her face is contorted, every line etched deep with raw pain, her eyes wet and reddened from endless tears. She looks at your hand, pale and devoid of its usual warmth, resting lifelessly in her grip.

But it's the faint, almost timid pulsation under her touch that keeps her from completely breaking down. Each breath you take is slow and labored, barely noticeable. But the quiet beep of the monitors serves as a constant reminder that there's still life within you. From time to time, she leans in, pressing her ear close to your chest, cherishing the gentle thud of your heartbeat, willing you to hold on just a little longer.

A while later, a group of nurses and doctors rush in, ready to prep you for surgery. Their hands move with purpose, reaching for various instruments and adjusting the array of machines beside your bed. That’s when, as if propelled by an invisible force, equipment flies off tables, and a few of the medical staff are pushed back against the walls. A nurse, caught off-guard, drops a syringe, its contents spilling onto the pristine floor. 

Natasha, having been alerted by the commotion, slips into the room, swiftly placing herself between Wanda and the medical staff.

“Wanda,” she implores cautiously, her eyes seeking the sorceress's, “let them do their job. He needs them.”

For a moment, it seems like she might snap, but then her gaze drops to the floor, tears spilling. As soon as they feel it’s safe, the medical staff decide that they need to move you immediately. The wheels of your bed squeak in protest as they begin to shift it out of the room.

Wanda's grip tightens on your hand, her knuckles white. She tries to follow, as if an invisible cord binds her to you. She mutters, almost inaudibly, “I won't leave them.”

One of the nurses, recognizing the precarious situation and the potential for Wanda's powers to erupt again, glances around hesitantly. They're all clearly apprehensive about telling Wanda she can't accompany you. It’s just in time that Steve finally arrives, quickly taking in the scene before him.

“Kid, it’s okay,” he murmurs quietly.

She turns to him, her eyes a storm of emotion, as she pleads, “No, it’s not. I need to be with them.”

“It’s not,” he confirms, offering her a sympathetic look. “But right now, they need to do their job. We have to trust them.”

But her grip on your hand doesn't loosen.

With a deep breath, Steve gently pries her fingers away from yours. It's a slow, agonizing process, each finger unlocking a fresh wave of sobs from Wanda. She resists, but Steve’s reassuring grip gives her no choice. Finally, as your hand slips away from hers, the reality of the situation hits anew.

As the medical team wheels you out of the room, Wanda collapses into Steve's arms, her cries a haunting sound in the tenebrous hallways of the hospital.

The long hours of surgery find Wanda staring into the void, her eyes wavering yet alert, even as exhaustion begins to bear down on her. A few feet away, a wall clock ticks on, displaying the agonizingly slow passage of time. She's acutely aware of each second, each minute, as they stretch into what feels like eons. Occasionally, her fingers would twitch, itching to do something, anything, to change the course of events. But they remain clenched in her lap, her knuckles white from the pressure.

Wanda isn't accustomed to the drawn-out dread of potentially losing someone. Her parents were taken away in an instant. Pietro saved Clint in a split-second, paying with his life. So, when the surgeon finally emerges, the expression on his face already giving away the news, Wanda can't stand it. She bolts.

Outside, the cold night air hits her, but she hardly feels it. Her feet carry her to a secluded spot in the hospital's garden, where the shadows from the trees envelope her. She sinks to the ground, her hands digging into the grass, seeking some form of grounding.

The rest of the team, still in the waiting room, exchange worried glances. Steve takes a step forward, as if to follow, but Natasha places a gentle hand on his arm.

“She needs a minute,” Natasha says quietly.

While they give Wanda time to process, the surgeon starts explaining the details, the clinical terms merging with the reality of what happened. The Avengers might face world-ending threats on a daily basis, but this personal loss, this kind of pain, hits different.

Little do they know that in the distance, Wanda's grief is causing ripples that are about to change everything.

-

Making his way through the maze of hallways, Steve's steps slow as he approaches the familiar penitentiary. He nears the familiar cell door, taking a moment to brace himself before nudging it open just slightly.

Inside, the room is dim, with just a small lamp fighting off the darkness. It's chilly, the sort of cold that seems to seep into your bones. There, on the simple bed, is Wanda, curled up and looking so small and vulnerable. Pushing the door open just a touch more, Steve walks in silently and sits beside Wanda. He doesn't say anything, instead he allows Wanda to acclimatize to his presence, to give her space and time to figure out that she’s not alone in this, never was.

After what seems like an eternity, Wanda, without looking at Steve, simply murmurs, ��It's cold here.”

Steve just nods, at a loss for words. He takes off his jacket, trying to wrap it around her shoulders for comfort. But Wanda pushes it away, letting it drop to the ground. Steve clenches his jaw, recognizing that right now, reasoning with Wanda might be impossible.

Several beats pass before Wanda finally speaks up. “It should have been me,” she says, her voice as steely as the temperature of the room. “I should be the one in that grave.”

“Don't say that,” Steve insists, carefully placing a hand on her tense shoulder. “You couldn't have known.”

Wanda's eyes blaze with anger and sorrow. “I allowed it, Steve. I allowed Y/N to help me, to heal me. I let them drain their life to give to me.” Her voice wavers, and she trembles visibly. Steve can feel warmth where he's holding her but trusts that she won't lose control. “If Y/N hadn't found me, I'd be as good as dead. But now... they're gone, and I'm here.”

“Wanda, look at me,” he mutters, placing another hand on her other shoulder and twisting her gently so she can properly face him. His blue eyes seek out hers but she refuses to meet his gaze, eyes transfixed on the floor, lost and empty. “We make choices everyday. Choices that we think are for the best. You couldn't have predicted this outcome. None of us could.”

She angles her head, strands of hair partially covering her face, but one eye peeks through with a dangerous glint. “I let them step into danger, more than once. So try and tell me it's not on me.”

Steve, visibly unsettled, takes a ragged breath. “Wanda, I know it’s hard to understand now, to accept that what happened to Y/N is beyond your control. But we're all here for you, and if you need—”

“I don't want or need your help, Steve,” she retorts with an icy edge. “What I need is to be alone.”

Seeing the resolute, almost manic determination in her eyes, Steve hesitates before nodding slowly. “Alright,” he says.

“But remember this, Wanda,” Steve says, pausing at the threshold of the cell, a deep sadness in his eyes. “Y/N wouldn't want you to be alone, especially not like this.”

Wanda's lips twitch into a bitter smile. “What Y/N wanted doesn't matter now, does it? They're gone.”

Steve doesn't say anything else. He gives Wanda a long look, then walks out.

-

The pain is worse when she dreams.

In one of them, she relives a reality from before. She's transported back to a familiar morning. She remembers waking up in your room, the warmth of the sheets reminding her of the night before. Trying to push away her burgeoning feelings for you, she recalls inviting a stranger into her room, sharing some wine. But as he got closer, she pushed him away, realizing he wasn't what she truly wanted.

In her dream, she does things differently. Instead of slipping away like she did in reality, she lingers. She takes the time to study every detail of your face as you sleep—the freckles on your nose, the subtle movement of your lips as you mumble incoherent dreams, the occasional twitch of your eyelids. She gives in to an urge she had suppressed for the longest time, wrapping her arms around your waist, drawing you close. 

After what feels like hours, you stir. When you open your eyes, there's a brief moment of surprise before your lips curve into a soft, genuine smile, happy to see she's still there. Your fingers reach up, gently caressing her cheek. She leans into it, eyes closing for a moment as she takes in the sensation. “You stayed,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with wonder.

Just as she's on the verge of promising to always stay by your side, Wanda jolts awake. Her smile fades the instant she grasps that it was all an illusion, a fleeting could-have-been.

The knife in her chest buries itself a little deeper after that. It does so again the following morning when she dreams of another memory, and in every version, she doesn't turn away from you.

- 

One day, a woman approaches Wanda, offering to help her uncover the secret to inhabiting her dreams.

“Not merely dreams,” the woman clarifies, “but alternate realities.” Her name is Agatha, and she persuades Wanda that these realities are rightfully hers, waiting for her to claim them. Desperate for a way to be with you again, even if it's in another reality, Wanda listens intently.

“Each reality is like a page in a book. Some might be nearly identical to yours, with just a slight deviation. Others could be drastically different. The key is knowing how to navigate and control them,” Agatha explains.

"How?" Wanda questions, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, walking alongside Agatha on a nondescript street in Westview, New Jersey. She'd made her way there upon discovering you'd purchased property, curious to envision the life you'd planned for yourself, had you lived.

“It's not as simple as snapping one's fingers,” Agatha says. “But with the right guidance and knowledge, you can access these realities, live in them, even mold them to your desires.”

Wanda hesitates, sensing the potential dangers of meddling with the fabric of existence. “What's the price?” she asks. 

Agatha doesn't look too pleased with Wanda's display of intelligence and her knack for spotting the early signs of manipulation. But she gets the feeling that Wanda might not care if she's being used, as long as she gets what she wants out of it.

“Every powerful spell comes with its costs,” Agatha replies cryptically. “But isn't a chance to be with Y/N, to have a life where grief doesn't consume you, worth any price?”

Living day to day, clutching onto moments of happiness in her dreams, only to be jerked back into a reality she can't stand—it's wearing on Wanda. The dreams are great, sure, but they're just that—dreams. And when they're over, it's back to the harsh light of day, and the reality that you’re gone. She's stuck in this loop, bouncing between what she wishes her life could be and the real world that just won't let her catch a break. Every dream feels like a tease, a brief escape before she's pulled back into the grind.

“So? I don’t have all day, dear.” Agatha's tone is dripping with impatience, her sharp eyes fixed on Wanda.

Wanda swallows hard, her gaze darting around the empty street, as if cautious to anyone who might be eavesdropping on the conversation, before settling back on the older witch. “What do you want in return?”

A slow, sly smile spreads across Agatha's face, making the air around her grow even colder. She takes a deliberate step closer to Wanda, their faces now mere inches apart. “You’re a sly witch than I made you out to be, aren’t you?”

Wanda holds her ground. “I need to know.”

Agatha chuckles softly, her breath caressing Wanda's face. “We'll get to that,” she purrs, drawing the moment out just to relish Wanda's discomfort. She then leans in even closer, her voice dropping to a hushed, almost seductive whisper. “First, let's talk about how we can make your dreams come true.”

Wanda hesitates, torn between the desperation of her desires and the voice in her head urging her to decline the offer, to grieve and move forward like anyone else would.

To forget you.

“And why would I trust you?” Wanda counters instead, buying herself more time.

Agatha straightens up, her smile unwavering as she finally takes a step back. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t. But sometimes, our wants make strange bedfellows. And right now, I'm the best chance you've got.”

-

Wanda's footsteps are hesitant as she approaches the rubble-strewn site, each broken brick and twisted piece of metal echoing memories of that fateful day. The boundaries between realities have always been thin for Wanda, a mere whisper away. And on the 436th day since your sacrifice, she finally musters the courage to cross them.

Witnessing it all from this vantage point—that of an observer—feels utterly surreal.

She remembers the pain, the slow dimming of consciousness, and the sensation of life slipping away. But in this reality, it was her other self who had been impaled, left to bleed out beneath the rubble. And you, who she loved dearly in every universe, had been spared.

Or at least, that’s how she intends it to happen for this reality.

Wanda's fingers twitch, and with a fierce concentration of her magic, she lifts the heavy boulder trapping her other self. A bright crimson glow surrounds it as it's lifted and tossed aside, revealing the horrific sight beneath.

The other Wanda is a haunting reflection of what she might have been, pale with trails of blood smeared across her lips. The fabric of her clothes is stained with the vivid red of her own blood, which pools around her. It's a sight that should send a wave of nausea through Wanda, but truthfully she feels nothing.

Gently, Wanda cradles the injured version of herself, her hands shaking as they brush away the dirt and blood from the other's face. She can't stop herself from checking for a pulse, even though ironically, she’s there to make sure it stops beating.

“Hey,” she murmurs, patting the alternate Wanda's cheek softly, urging her to focus. “Look at me.”

Slowly, those familiar eyes flutter open, clouded with pain. The shock and fear in them are palpable when they take in the sight of her savior—especially the distinct headpiece that marked her transformation into the Scarlet Witch.

“Who... are you?”

“I'm you,” Wanda says, and without waiting for a reply, sparing her other self the pain of speaking, she continues, “Y/N sacrificed so much for you. For us. They became our greatest pain, and our love. And they will be here any minute now.”

“W-What are you talking about—”

“They will be here to save you and make themselves vulnerable in the process. And they will die,” Wanda's breath hitches at that, causing her to pause momentarily. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Her fading counterpart shakes her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Good,” Wanda says, offering a comforting smile. “Then let go, and I’ll take care of Y/N. Okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turns the body in her embrace into red wisps that dance around her in the air. 

Then, aware that it'll only be moments before you reach the scene, Wanda morphs into the likeness of her younger self. She looks just like the other version, but without any injuries that might spur you into action.

“Wanda!” she hears your voice from a distance and her eyes water at the sound.

She's done the unimaginable, claiming the identity of this universe's Wanda, seconds after she erased her very existence. She takes deep, shaky breaths, trying to get into character. She needs you to believe it’s her, even though she’s forgotten herself how she used to be.

Your steps quicken, shoes crunching on rubble, until you're right in front of her, surveying her from head to toe, searching for any signs of injury. “Wanda...how?” Your eyes are wide, filled with disbelief and relief. “I thought I'd lost you.”

“I managed to shield myself just in time when—” She doesn’t get to finish her practiced response when you pull her into a tight embrace, and she leans into it, her body shaking with genuine sobs. Her face buries into the crook of your neck, feeling the warmth and familiarity of your smell and touch. It's a grounding sensation amidst the madness she has just endured and inflicted.

“It's okay,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You're here now, and that's all that matters.” You can feel the dampness on your shirt where her tears have soaked through, and you tighten your grip around her.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, casting a glance around the ruins. “Let's find safety first, then we'll figure everything out.”

She nods, taking a deep breath to steady herself, wiping away her tears. “I'm sorry,” Wanda says, her voice catching in her throat.

“For what?” you ask, confused.

“For making you worry,” she says, avoiding your eyes. The guilt she feels is so much deeper than what you perceive, but now isn’t the time to delve into it. 

She only recalls the next moments when the bullets are headed your way minutes later. But this time, they don't touch you. Wanda swiftly neutralizes the assailants, and you stare, a mix of shock and awe at the display of her powers that appear to have been amplified overnight.

You blink, trying to process what you just saw. “Wanda, what was that? I've never seen you...”

“We need to move. Now,” Wanda interrupts, a hint of panic in her voice. She grabs your hand, tugging you forward roughly.

You resist for a moment, glancing around. "Don't we need to wait for the others?"

She glances back at the devastation she caused, her face drawn. "There’s no time. They're not coming.”

“But—”

“Please," she pleads, her eyes darting to the oncoming imaginary threats in the distance. “We'll figure it out once we're safe.”

It’s your weakness, your inability to say no to her, that makes you yield to her wishes. With one last uneasy look around, you let Wanda pull you away, but a slew of questions bubble up in your mind, waiting for a safer moment to be asked.

Wanda leads you somewhere faraway. 

In time, you cease to question her actions.

Gradually, the dreams stop haunting her nights.

But she finds herself unable to stop hunting for them every now and then.

[xx-slug-xx]

One thing I hate about the homestuck fandom is how many people just didn't read the comic or just glossed over the words and skipped to the pretty pictures.

"I thought Jane and Jake were related? Why are you hippping them?" They are not. They are clones of themselves from an alternate timeline. The only reason for thinking they were related stems from how Grandpa Harley and Nana Egbert were raised together and saw each other as siblings. Two very different scenarios for their upbringing in both the Alpha and Beta timelines. Beta = found family. Alpha = not found family. Either way, they are not related biologically at all.

"Gamzee was evil bc he went sober" No. He was directly mind-controlled by Lil Cal (Caliborn). However, his mind was weakened from not only being sober (addiction sucks ass) but also from having his religion/worldview flipped on its head (Dave showing Gamzee ICP). He was more susceptible to Cal's influence. It's a more "read in between the lines" type of deal, but he did not go around killing people or abusing Terezi simply because he was sober.

"June is canon because I keep seeing people talk about June (as in John transition in the comics)" June is cool, but you can't take Hussie's word as law because he sucks. June could still be canon in Beyone Canon and Pesterquest hints at it (heavily) (yippee). But John still exists and is called John through the (current) whole of Homestuck, the Epilogues, and Beyond Cannon.

"Roxy sexually harassed Dirk and is awful (knows Dirk is gay and saw the one pannnel where Roxy hugged Dirk)" Roxy was alone for most of her life. Hal leads her on because Hal can do whatever the fuck he wants because he's a computer who enjoys chaos. Roxy hugging Dirk (the first real human she's ever seen) is not harassment. She did have romantic feelings toward him, yes. That is not up for debate. But he's still one of the only people in her life she could have formed a bond with at all and didn't pursue him romantically. More just left it alone and talked about her personal struggle.

I could add more horrid takes, but I'm tired lol

[domokunrainbowkinz]

babe wake up its time for more manhwa posting!!!!!

titles mentioned:

painter of the night (18+)

bend over backwards (18+)

miscreants and mayhem (18+)

fly me to the moon

why Ophelia couldn't leave

taming the tiger (18+)

walk on water (18+)

codename: anastasia (18+)

the ghost's nocturne (18+)

steel under silk (18+)

dreadful night (18+)

toxin (18+)

smyrna and capri (18+)

roses and champagne (18+)

painter of the night (18+) - listen so many ppl talk abt this one and have hyped it up so much, but unfortunately I didn't really like it 😔 I do like their relationship at the end and they are very loving but the journey....bruh 💀 I just think it could've been so much more interestingly written, and I think most of my problems stem from me just straight up not liking nakyum as a character. the art is very pretty though. I would skip if you're not a fan of passive/weak MC'S who are treated like shit by the ML in the beginning but get stockholmed into developing feelings somehow (I rly don't know how else to explain it IDK MAN). warning for non-con/dub-con between the 2 leads.

bend over backwards (18+) - very cute!!!! it does start out kinda toxic and in like a transactional/coercive FWB situationship, but it doesn't last super duper long and they do end up being very cute and loving. I have this bookmarked as my comfort read 😌

miscreants and mayhem (18+) - HEAR ME OUT THIS ONE SLAPPED OK. I originally was gonna skip this one bc the main pairing is uh about a guy and his step-son 🧍‍♀️. extremely questionable rship and he does get called "dad" when theyre fucking but my 4th wall must be made of titanium bc I was able to look past that due to the way the story was written. it deals a lot with the mc's guilt about failing his family and not being able to raise his step-son, and he blames himself for why his step-son turned out the way he did. a wild ride with the most HWOOOO spicy scenes that i would definitely give a try if you're able to like look past the inherent weirdness of the rship.

fly me to the moon - God this one started out so promising but as soon as the main pairing was established the MC's personality went poof 😭 WHAT HAPPENED TO MY NO-NONSENSE SARCASTIC CHAIN-SMOKING MOMMY....THEY TURNED HER INTO A TYPICAL DAMSEL IN DISTRESS 😭😭 this also was giving "I can't believe it's not omegaverse!!" bc they were talking about like pheromones and scenting and imprinting, it had me going "is this straight omegaverse.....??" I think I knew it was time to drop this when I started caring more about the unhinged insane 2nd ML that everyone hates more than the main couple bc at least he elicits an interesting rxn from the MC rather than the boring ass vanilla insta-love vibes of the main pairing. maybe I just have weird taste 😭

why Ophelia couldn't leave - once again started off promising but started going downhill once the main pairing was established 😔 I think it's bc I was expecting more of a battle of wits or mutual manipulation story, but there wasn't a whole lot of that. i thought the ML's personality was quite flat, bc although i am biased towards obsessive characters, the way he was written just didn't click with me since he has no depth besides "I love ophelia". I did think the slow reveal of the truth behind the parents' death was interesting, they do feed you some info bit by bit, and Ophelia's unreliable narration also helped with the mystery. honestly I was a little mad when I finished this one bc I lowkey felt like I wasted my time 😭

taming the tiger (18+) - by the same author as "miscreants and mayhem", this one was A Ride. this pairing is the definition of matching each others' freak and it also had the best spicy scenes out of all the ones i've read so far like they made me go aWOOGAAAAA!!!!! it can get quite sad near the end but i personally LOVED the way it ended with the side stories....the soulmate-ism of it all.......i would highly recommend this one if you're looking for like something that will make you Feel Things.

walk on water (18+) - by the same author as "under the green light", this one was the most grounded and realistic bl manhwa i've read. at times it gave off almost indie movie vibes with the way the dialogue was written. it deals with discussions surrounding the ethics of like the gay porn industry and the stigma that is attached to sex workers in that industry. would definitely give this one a read!!

codename: anastasia (18+) - the only reason i'm continuing this is bc i think it's finally getting to the good shit after an entire season of me wanting to grab the MC by the shoulders and yelling "HELLO????? YOUR PARTNER IS SUS AS FUCK WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!" for a spy he is kind of stupidt 😭despite that though i did like the banter between the 2 leads, and i'm really curious to see how they will interact in the new season now that uhhhh Shit Happened. anyways huge warning for non-con between the 2 leads like. it was fucked up man.

the ghost's nocturne (18+) - i love supernatural stories, especially ones that deal with folk horror and curses and ghosts, so obvs i liked this one. the art style for this one is SO GOOD, each panel is coloured so beautifully and rendered so well shit had me staring at each panel going "HOW?????" the rship between the nok and jaeshin was pretty iffy in the beginning but it improves pretty quickly once jaeshin explains wtf is going on and they come to an agreement. anyways i'm enjoying this one so far and i am also in love with jaeshin, unfortunately i am not immune to sexy half-ghost man 😔. warning for non-con/dub-con between the 2 leads in the beginning.

steel under silk (18+) - listen when i heard this one was a joseon-dynasty enemies-to-lovers revenge story my ass was clicking into it IMMEDIATELY. i do admit the beginning is a little rough since our MC was acting mainly on impulse and doesn't really have a long-term game plan, but he smartens up and starts to actively scheme around the 20-episode mark. it's so nice seeing both yeonjo and heeryang's perspectives and their thought processes, they each know the other person is scheming and they're constantly thinking of ways to out-scheme the other person to get the upper hand (yeonjo's goal is to gain the governor's trust so he can create an opportunity to assassinate him, while heeryang suspects yeonjo wants to kill him so he constantly blocks opportunities/creates obstacles to make sure he never gets a chance). i am really really curious to see what direction the story takes, especially with the recent chapters that have come out. it's really hard for me to read enemies-to-lovers stories and not compare it to captive prince, which i still consider to be the creme-de-la-creme of enemies to lovers, but so far this one is very promising. warning for dub-con between the 2 leads, and non-con between the MC and another character.

dreadful night (18+) - really unique premise, basically our MC is stuck in a slasher horror game, and he needs to clear all of the endings in order to escape. i'm really enjoying this one bc it's clear the author is a horror-enjoyer with the way they're so knowledgeable about tropes and death flags and like the mechanics of horror games, that has a horror enjoyer myself it made me go "ohohohoho....." they should make more transmigration stories where they transmigrate into a horror game, enough with the fantasy/otome games!!! give me stories where people transmigrate into silent hill or something!!! the ML seems to be an NPC who's sentient and aware of the game, but he also seems a little obsessed with our MC (in a yandere way) so i'm curious to see what his deal is.

toxin (18+) - i usually give something like 20 episodes before i decide if it's for me but like 6 episodes in i went "brother eughhhh". it's an enemies to lovers story but the ML gave me the biggest ick. idk if i just dropped it too early but it's giving colonizer romance (like the ML literally hunted the MC's people for sport and doesn't see them as individuals, he views them as livestock and lower beings). i do get it's enemies to lovers, but this particular brand doesn't appeal to me.

smyrna and capri (18+) - once again by the same author as "miscreants and mayhem" and "taming the tiger", i got curious about their other works since i really enjoyed what i've read from them so far, so i decided to open my heart and try reading an omegaverse story. i think i can conclude that i really don't like omegaverse bc i liked everything about this story except for the pregnancy and pheromone shit 😭i would recommend this if you're a fan of omegaverse, the rship between the 2 leads is very sweet and the alpha is also very very green flag (he is so cute...i lov him...)

roses and champagne (18+) - man this one started off interesting but then went off the rails at the end and made me go "HUH????? okay i guess!!!!" also the MC is a lawyer but he can also be kinda dumb which frustrated me. i did like their relationship in the beginning, but once again Something happens near the end that made me go "oh you Crazy crazy" and i felt like they kinda speedran the ending. there are side-stories, but i honestly lost interest so i stopped following. this is going to sound deranged but this story gave off mad victuuri mafia au vibes. warning for non-con between the 2 leads near the end (where it goes off the rails LOL)

[stevie-petey]

I genuinely love Jonathan and I have so many reasons. When will first went missing he went to Lonnie's house and confronted his abuser to look for his brother. He doesn't get resentful of the fact that Joyce doesn't know as much about him as she does will. Most teenagers would take out their feelings in hurtful ways ( which Jonathan has done I'll admit) but he just lets it go. He loves his younger brother so much he wants will to get more attention. He wants Will's wants and needs fulfilled before his own. One of my absolute favorite scenes of Jonathan is on Christmas he lets will open his gift from Nancy. He lets will unwrap his present because he knows it'll make him happy.

The one thing that irks me about Jonathan is he can be a coward with his own emotions. He doesn't know how to deal with them and often runs away or ignores it. We see this with Nancy and will in season four. He didn't want to hurt Nancy or even disappoint her, and he doesn't want Nancy to give up on her dreams, all understandable. What I don't understand is why can't he talk to her about it like you talk to anyone else? Confrontation is scary, I completely understand but just leaving her in the dark about what's really going on with him is really not a good idea dude. Jonathan will only open up to most people when cornered or so overwhelmed he can't keep it in anymore. It's something that will come back and bite him in his booty cheeks.

That being said he has plenty of other issues I didn't dive into because it'd take a while. But at his core he is a loving person, who just wants to keep his life peaceful and tries to fly under the radar. He doesn't seek out drama or violence. He lets a lot just roll off his shoulders ( even though he occasionally can hold grudges which I don't blame him for)

jonathan genuinely is one of the most selfless characters on the show, even from a non biased perspective. he truly has given up his entire life for his family and the ones he loves. it really does sadden me that it doesnt get acknowledged :(

with this selflessness hes also selfish with his feelings by never acknowledging them and thats why i find him fascinating. the core of his character is also his flaw !!!!! like what !!!!! he doesnt want to hurt anyone but that only makes things worse, and then he blows up after allowing everything to build within him. its a very horrendous cycle that stems from his abuse growing up

[wildissylupus]

Pharah and the shit load of trauma she needs to deal with.

Since I'm kind of on a Pharah post train right now I might as well give an analysis of her character.

First off, let's get the obvious out of the way. This woman has abandonment issues, with the number of characters that have left her, willingly or otherwise, it would surprise me if she didn't. Not only that but I do think her reaction to Mercy leaving without a goodbye says a lot about her issues with people leaving.

Now let's get into the less obvious, her toxic idealization of Overwatch, especially in regard to Cassidy and Mercy. It's something that I think a lot of people ignore about her character, Canonically Pharah was very much sheltered from a lot of the drama that was happening with Overwatch. Yes, she isn't like Winston where the rose-tinted glasses are still in place, but there are still things that she is unaware of and doesn't completely understand.

Such as the things Cassidy went through in Blackwatch and the fact that he's basically holding on by a thread. I've talked about this in a previous post but it's very much implied that Cassidy has relapsed back into smoking and has become a high-functioning alcoholic. These are both things that he has successfully kept hidden because of the fact that throughout the game's history, the only person who acknowledged his behavior is Mercy in an old voice line. If Pharah, someone that considers Cass family, noticed what he was going though it would be acknowledged in a instant. Looking at the way Pharah talks about Cassidy in "As You Are", she's completely unaware.

The same goes with Mercy but it is different. She does know that Mercy's feeling on Overwatch are complicated, it's not something that Mercy hides, but Pharah seems unaware of how tired she is. How Mercy has become a workaholic because of Overwatch, how Mercy is incredibly bitter towards Ana and the rest of the Old Guard for how they treated her technology.

Now saying all that I want to point out that Pharah not knowing this stuff isn't her fault, both Cassidy and Mercy are characters who put everyone else's needs and health before they're own. She isn't aware because Cassidy and Angela are actively hiding it.

Now this leads me back to Pharah's toxic idealization of Overwatch. A majority of Pharah's issues with Overwatch stem from her mother, as a result it's safe to assume that she only really paid attention to that, especially when she was younger. Meaning the issues with Blackwatch? The treatment that Cassidy, Mercy, Genji, Echo and so many others received? She wouldn't be aware of that. Which leads me to believe that she put Overwatch on a pedestal. She holds onto Overwatch as a comfort. Have you ever noticed that Pharah doesn't seem to have any connections outside of her father, work, and Overwatch?

And before you say this is a common thing, it's not, a lot of characters have connection outside of Overwatch. Even with Pharah's connection in her job they all seem more professional then personal. Which leads me to one big point that a lot of people haven't realized, Pharah is sheltered, that's why she has a crush on Mercy, she never really allowed herself to make connections outside of Overwatch. It's why she hasn't realized that Cassidy has relapsed, because Cassidy and Ana have always shielded her from his troubles in Blackwatch.

Even after Overwatch's fall she's still only mentioned being in contact with members of Overwatch when she's outside of work and this wouldn't be a problem if Overwatch fell 1-2 years ago, but it's been 6 years.

I believe a big part of Pharah's arc is going to be moving away from Overwatch, in a social way I mean. I think her and Baptiste now being on a first name basis is a step in that direction, I think she's going to become friends with the other members of the New Blood group and that will lead her into making connections with people outside of Overwatch. They might be new characters introduced more as allies to Overwatch, or maybe it will be older characters who either share the same issues with adornment (Sombra) or the same inexperience with socializing outside of the organization they grew up in (Symmetra).

Either way I do think Pharah needs some friends who either weren't always a part of Overwatch/recently joined or are just allies and/or not a part of Overwatch.

[cdragons]

BITCH, WHAT?! - An Eternals STEM Trio Drabble

Pairings: Platonic!Phastos x Hectate!Eternal Reader, Phastos & Kaetlyn, Phastos x Ben, Kaet x Druig (Druig doesn't appear, but he is mentioned), mention of Ikaris x Sephia Words: ~1.0 k Summary: A lil' drabble that tells how Phastos found out about one wonderfully incredible flower goddess banging it out with one blue flying man with stupid hair. Warning: Nudity (but not sexual), Kaetlyn has ZERO shame, Phastos needs some aspirin from dealing with his crazyass magic shadow sister, unbetaed we die like Ajak (sorry Ajak) Notes: This drabble was inspired by a scene in Grey's Anatomy, if you know you know. Please reblog and like and comment! Shoutout to @ethereal-athalia & @valeskafics for being the most supportive people on this platform!

Phastos was a pacifist. He was a ‘thinker,’ not a ‘fighter.’ If there was a way to resolve a conflict peacefully with no potential loss of blood or bodily fluid, then he would take it. His inventions may have martial uses, but he remained steadfast in using his mind for peace and not violence. He lived this way for 7,000 years on Earth, and he would like it very much to keep it that way.

But lord-y lord, was he sorely tempted to break that right now.

“How could she not tell me?” you asked incredulously. “I mean, how could she not tell me?”

“Get out.” he told you.

Out of every one of his old family, Phastos was definitely not one to be ashamed to admit that he played favorites, and there was most definitely a ranking system. He wasn’t so petty to reveal who were at the bottom Sprite, but he knew it was obvious who were his favorites. Out of the remaining eleven members, he adored you and Sephia above everyone else. His love for the two of you reached to the point he considered the both you to be his sisters, and his respect went so far as to hold you two to a higher esteem than he held Ajak.

“I mean seriously, ME? What the fuck?”

“Please, get out.” he repeated in hopes that you would listen.

And of course, you didn’t.

Normally Phastos would more than happy with you visiting. After all, you and Sephia were the only ones that Phastos really trusted to be around his family so that his son could have a chance of a normal childhood without ‘excessive’ trauma. Jack adored his Aunties ‘Sophia’ and ‘Katie,’ and you both loved him. And while he would never admit it, he truly appreciated how either you or Sephie would happily take Jack off his dads’ hands so that they could spend some quality time together after he and Ben brough Jack home from the hospital.

But he would really appreciate it if you hadn’t just magicked yourself into his living room before barging yourself in the bathroom with him while he was showering so that he could prepare for an important interview with the magnet school Jack’s currently being waitlisted on. He’d appreciate even more if you picked up the very subtle hints that he’s been dropping while you were currently pacing on the other side of the shower curtain.

“He’s lying,” you went off, “he’s a lying liar – that’s it, that has to be it. I would know if my soul sister was in a relationship with someone.”

“Get out.” Maybe if he repeated it enough with gradual emphasis, it might actually sink into her head.

“I’m actually being gaslighted-” a cold blast of air hit his back as you pulled the curtain to one side – “Phastos this is criminal-”

Immediately pulling back the curtains to retain some sense of his dignity, Phastos decided that enough was enough. “Get out!”

Taken back, you asked: “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem- Kaety, I am in the shower. I am wet and n a k e d.” Phastos stressed the last word to point out the very glaring fact that he was wet and not wearing any clothes.

“Okay, and? I’ve seen it all before, no big deal! I’m in the middle of a crisis here!”

Did you really fail to see how fucking weird this situation was?

Feeling a migraine coming in, he needed to get you out so he could finish his shower in peace for five goddamn minutes. Looking you in the eyes, Phastos did his best to give you his best “I’m Pissed” stare.

Letting out a sigh, he thought that maybe you finally took the hint and would leave.

“Alright, fine,” you reasoned out, “your junk is…spectacular, really great. 10 out of 10, would bang you if you were straight and I wasn’t already madly obsessed with Druig’s nether regions. Ben is truly a lucky man…can we get back to me now?”

“…”

“Why are you making that face?” you groaned in distress.

“Kaety, I know I said that my door would always been open for you. But I have a very important interview with that magnet school for Jack, alright? Me and Ben have been prepping for this afternoon for over 3 months. I am sleep-deprived, I need to shower, and I need to be focused. Whatever you’re going through, go to Sephie, okay?”

“…It’s Ben and I.”

“Why are you here anyway? And where are the girls? Did you just leave them at the compound?”

“What? No, the girls are downstairs playing with Jack. Druig and Ben are watching over them.”

“Oh my god- Druig’s here too?”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Leave my kids without telling the love of my life? Phastos, what kind of mother and wife do you think I am?”

“…Just get out.”

You were just about to leave when you finally registered what he said earlier - and you immediately turned back.

“HOLD UP!” you shouted as pulled the curtain again as Phastos pulled it back, “You mean to tell me that you haven’t been listening to me this ENTIRE TIME?”

“No, I haven’t! And I don’t particularly care about it right now!” he shouted whilst standing under the shower head to finally finish washing himself. “Just tell me later! When I am NOT NAKED!”

Still determined to get a proper reaction, you made sure to project very loudly. “SO, it wouldn’t interest you to know that I caught Ikaris and Sephie HAVING SEX?!”

“WHAT?!” This time, Phastos was the one to pull the curtains back. “NO! Wait- that’s- that’s- NO! Why would- NO!”

“Thank you.” you calmly stated before pulling his curtain between you two once more as you finally exited the bathroom- leaving your Inventor brother to stand under the streaming water in a state of extreme shock at the most horrific news he’s received since Thanos’ Snap.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @chompchompluke, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @jolixtreesunn, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @deanthomaswhore, @vikingqueen28, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @she-wintersoldat, @bibissparkles, @hypnoticmistake, @grimbunnie, @getawaycardotmp3

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[stxrdust-widow]

Ok not to be dramatic on main, but:

I’ve definitely been thinking about this way too much but the fact that Brennan was probably in love with Booth throughout at least the latter half of season 4 and all the way through season five but probably didn’t have the words or the ability to comprehend what she was actually feeling like!!! She’s never been in a long term romantic relationship, and at the time just didn’t have the capacity to understand anything that wasn’t quantifiable aka LOVE so it’s understandable but!!

Also, everyone made such a big deal about how Booth hadn’t been in love with Brennan before the coma absolutely untrue, but barely anyone talks about how Booths coma dream literally stems from what Bones was writing and narrating to him while he was unconscious??? Like hello, that literally proves that she was in love with him. She wrote a version of them where they were in love and married and growing their family, and even if it was just some version of them, maybe it was her way of projecting and analyzing her feelings in a more tangible and controlled manner. And maybe she never truly understood what she was feeling at that point, or maybe she did and deleting the story before he woke up was her way of suppressing those feelings, until she was finally confronted with them again in s5 when Booth confesses to her. And yeah, she was scared, convinced she couldn’t change based on her history and who she was and everything was worse because he told her everything when she wasn’t ready to hear it in a setting where she really didn’t have any preparation or control.

And when they returned in s6, she’s in a healthier place, still not quite ready but nearly there, having gained time and perspective, only to find Booth had stuck to his word and moved on. She can’t even hate the woman he’s chosen because it’s not in her nature, and Booth’s happiness is the ultimate goal and everything is okay between them until it’s not, and she finally realizes that she doesn’t want to waste any time, doesn’t want to waste her life. She wants to live and make connections and love and be loved, but it’s too late for her and Booth, and shes crying in the rain. Until it’s not, and Booth is single again, but he’s sad and angry and rightfully so. But it’s not the end for them, and they just need to take their time to heal, and I’m choosing to believe that even though they came together officially under a very stressful situation, wrought with grief and sadness, the fact that they still knew and trusted each other enough to comfort one another just makes it better. That despite all the heartache and rejection that occurred between them, nothing was able to sever the bond they’ve created, and they each know that the other is a safe place.

And I know the surprise pregnancy is a divisive topic amongst this fandom, but from what I’ve garnered, most people (including myself) are less angry about the pregnancy itself, and more disappointed that we didn’t see the actual moment where the tension breaks and they finally come together in some huge, dramatic way. I’m a huge fan of those moments, but I’m going to try to be happy with what we got, and leave all the early moments of their official coupledom to the imagination and to fanfic. But overall I like the direction they went. I wish we would have seen more of them learning to live together, grow together, but I suppose we already got all of that, just without an official love confession. As Angela put it; [they] were a couple. [They] just weren't having sex. And she was right.

Anyways, I have no purpose with this, just crying about the tragic, poetic nature of their relationship into the void.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Greetings, Jalebi; many were not satisfied with Arnav’s redemption. I am one of them as so many of his flashbacks before going to say sorry didn’t include some important heartbreaks he gave Khushi. Do you think Arnav, deemed a man of action and not words, really understood what he had done to Khushi, a young innocent girl, substantially younger than him on the threshold of womanhood? Later during the abysmal Sheetal track some insecurities partly stemming from his actions reared their ugly head

Hi Anon,

Arnav is extremely privileged and starts off in the show as someone who nearly doesn't consider people as people if they're not in the circle he is in.

It's not an active dehumanizing choice, it's just that his vision is so narrow he's unable to see people as fleshed out living beings unlike himself.

He's too rich, too arrogant and has a ton of confidence (based on his successes).

It's also why Khushi's fight with him at the guesthouse gets through to him unlike anything else. He did not send her there to die - but again, he isn't considering her as a separate human being. When Khushi accuses him of dehumanizing her, of not taking into account she also has a family and pride, feelings, privacy the way he does...

And the fact that he worships money and attaches just way too much worth to money-

Arnav had nothing to say.

And just as he began to understand, Khushi grossly crossed boundaries of his private life so that halted a lot of things. I do think he understood Khushi and his own actions half bit during guesthouse, then at barsi, at the hospital, then at the night of coming back home from kidnapping (it's the reason why he comforts her) and definitely right before his remarriage preps.

I think he realizes before the remarriage preps that despite calling Khushi a trouble, he has been the biggest troublemaker of her life.

Sheetal track, tbh, didn't have any of the insecurities that's there in the existing relationship. I could always understand a Gunjan insecure of her relationship with Samrat because she has that outlook in life.

Khushi never has, and Arnav has never implied that Khushi was not pretty enough or not upto his standards as a wife. The betrayal of trust was a point of contention - not anything else.

Again, we have Khushi reduced from an otherwise confident woman to suddenly being "oh, Arnav prefers his modern exes" after a lot of things passed between the two of them to confirm the validity and strength of their relationship.

If Khushi got together with Arnav during her puppy love phase where she was kinda putting him on a pedestal - I'd get it.

At this point they had shown the characters were mature enough to deal with certain things - and decided to regress them for cheap laughs.

My favorite part of the Sheetal track is when Arnav gets to know and works with Khushi to deal with things.

Because that's them. Khushi is the character to decide to sacrifice what she treasures the most for a person she doesn't know, Arnav is the character to choose logic to work out things.

Those 3-4 episodes of them dealing with the repercussions of them having a child makes the most sense to them in canon.

The 10 before and 20 after? No.

(You can't convince me that a woman who has perfectly been putting makeup and styling herself suddenly turns into a clown - like she legit went WTF at Manorama to end up... having makeup skills like Manorama? Also, Khushi rarely gets insecure of other people. She knows she's strange and one of a kind. The insecurities easily fit Payal like a glove).

Best,

JWB

[gctchell]

@edenpoise asked: 2. how does your muse handle grief? &. 8. what does your muse fear losing the most? ( for lilith! ) 3. what is your muse’s biggest regret? ( for stella! )

sad headcanon q’s… || 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

2. how does your muse handle grief?

Art, and screaming. Lilith has a habit of holing herself away within her workshop and throwing herself entirely into creation like a woman possessed, then always without fail, she screams and she breaks the process. She spends time doing nothing but screaming (as a nod to her name translating to 'screech owl', she screeches her grief). She can scream for hours - days, and it's one of the worst noises in Hell, not only because of the sound, but because you're inflicted with the pain that she feels as it works its way through your system and grips you by the heart. It's piercing, it's layered, it is joined by higher pitched voices of her own, and it is so, so loud. The Rings feel the shuddering volume through their foundations. They might not hear it, but the power of it makes them vibrate.

Lucifer, Charlie, and Chava are not as susceptible to it as most Sinners and Hellborn, because they have angel blood acting passively as their guard. Hellborn, however, are especially susceptible because even distantly, they stem from Lilith's creation.

The art that Lilith makes - paintings, sculptures, pottery, obscure pieces woven together? They are imbued with that grief and emanate it perpetually. Lilith puts them all away into one room in the Palace that sees little foot traction, and that specific area is always drained of warmth, light, and color. It feels like your energy is being slowly sapped from you as you wander down its hallway, growing steadily sleepy, and then exhausted. The mournful energy of eons has seeped into the walls and the floors, and the ceilings, and it haunts the hallway with the sound of weeping and sudden screeches. No one goes into that part of the Palace. Charlie and Chava have been forbidden from it. Lilith doesn't want them exposed to it. The sadness in that hall, let alone that room, seeps into the skin and it semi-possesses anyone lower than the Morningstar family. It's able to be shaken off, but damned is it miserable to deal with.

Mammon, who was once too curious for his own good, says it was one of the worst feelings he's ever experienced and he doesn't know why they keep a room like that available to be accessed to recklessly.

warning: mention of miscarriages and infant death below the cut.

8. what does your muse fear losing the most?

Charlie & Chava. Children are not easy for Lilith to bear, she's cursed with difficult conception, has had miscarriages before, and has already experienced two child deaths; Lilucia, the firstborn, who lasted two months and passed so suddenly and so quietly, Lilith and Lucifer thought she had just fallen asleep. Carmi, the second and Charlie's twin, who is believed to have been slaughtered in her crib during an Extermination.

Lilith is not nearly as afraid of losing Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Paimon, and other of her demonic children that she wove into creation - she believes that she can bring them back. However, the children born of her and Lucifer never come back. They've both tried resuscitation desperately to the best of their abilities before with Lilu, and failed.

3. what is your muse's biggest regret?

Stella's biggest regret is not knowing where her & Stolas's courtship went wrong. She thinks she missed the signs, communication, something that slipped under her radar that led to the drifting and eventual cheating. She lost her best friend, and most importantly, she lost her owlet's father. Octavia is hurting because of what is transpiring between Stella and Stolas, and that, that right there, is the one thing Stella set out to avoid when becoming a mother.

Stella is not the warmest demon in Hell, but she really, really wanted Octavia to have a good home life. She wanted to provide that more than anything, and she feels like she failed. However, Octavia got to have a very happy childhood with two loving parents that adored and doted on her ceaselessly, and continue to do so. Even with things turning out the way that they are, they still gave her more than what they had, and will both be doing their best to make the process as smooth and painless as possible.

That regret, though. It nags and it eats away in the back of her mind and often comes to the forefront. She failed somewhere that led to this, she's convinced, she just doesn't know where.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 18 (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair reacts to Tech's statement

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I hope everyone is doing well. I know things are getting rough for all of us, but just keep in mind that we all love you. Just keep swimming. Keep moving, keep pushing, even if it's a millimetre, just keep trying.

Love oo

Warning: Grief, emotional hiding, anger, annoyance, flower buying, mentions of hospital, and cardiac monitor. I think that's all of it, if I miss anything please let me know.

AO3 Link   |   Words: 1,011   |   PREVIOUS - -> NEXT

Gym Membership Master List  |   Main Master List

“What could you possibly know about grieving? You’re not Hunter, you’ve never lost a wife or a fiancee! You’ve never loved anyone!” Tech’s voice echoed over and over in Crosshair’s head, he rubbed his hands on his pant leg, doing his best to control the anger brewing within him. He stood from his seat, his fists clenched by his side.

“You have no idea what I’ve lost” Cross’ voice was cold and menacing as his jaw clenched. “Just cause you’re my vod doesn’t mean you know my life!” 

He moved away from Tech, grabbing his keys, he didn’t exactly know where he was heading at that moment, what he did know was he needed to move away from Tech before he hit him.

He took a deep breath and turned to look at Tech one last time, “I may not know what you are feeling Tech, but if you don’t learn how to deal with Kamarie’s loss, it’ll eat away at you more than you can imagine.” It was all Cross wanted to add before he headed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Time passed as Crosshair drove his car in a daze, before he even realized it, his car was headed towards the Veteran’s Army Hospital. He sat in his car staring at the hospital for a good fifteen minutes as he contemplated whether or not he should get out of the car. 

He hadn’t been there in a week, his schedule got thrown off the whole thing with Tech stressed him out if he was being honest. As he sat there, he realized he hadn’t even brought any flowers with him. It was too late now to go and get some from his usual florist, he let out a frustrated sigh as he got out of his car and headed in.  He would need to make a stop at the gift shop, he hated getting gift shop flowers, they were always leftovers and scraggly bits. His jaw clenched as he looked at the stems that were being offered, they were pathetic and not good enough.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?” The shopkeeper asked as she stood beside him, a smile on her face.

“Do you have … I don’t know, any fresh flowers?” He turned to the elderly lady who had been there taking care of the shop for the past twenty-five years. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, kid” she mumbled as she walked to the door behind the register.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get my flowers at the shop you recommended.” He answered absent-mindedly, “Plus there was a death in my family … so my schedule’s been a little hectic”

“Sorry to hear that, kid.” She gave him a sympathetic nod, before she disappeared into the room she opened, she walked out with a rather large bouquet, “Here you go, lanky.” She placed the bouquet on the counter as she patted his hand, “Just remember, I always keep a fresh batch just in case.” Crosshair looked at the bouquet of roses and tulips that oddly went together, “Was it someone you were close to?” Cross quirked his eyebrow, as he tried to understand her question, “The family member that you lost.”

“Somewhat, she was my brother’s fiancé.”

“That poor man, are you being supportive?” She always treated him like he was her son, he wasn’t sure why, or what she was hoping to get out of being so kind to him.

“As much as I can be, but he’s hiding himself” his voice still had a hint of anger and annoyance as he thought back to Tech.

“Much like you are?”

“I’m not hiding”

“Oh no? Tell me, since the last time we talked, have you told your family why you come to the hospital every week?” Cross didn’t answer her, “Well… have you?”

He let out a sigh, “They don’t know anything”

She lifted her eyebrow in derision, “Isn’t that a form of hiding? You can’t be angry and annoyed with him for hiding when you are doing the same thing, and a lot longer than he has.”

“I’m not angry … or annoyed.”

“Yeah, and I’m not a 65 year gift shop cashier.” She held up her hands in surrender when he narrowed his eyes at her, “Alright, so you’re not annoyed or angry…” she rolled her eyes, “then how do you feel with the way he’s acting?”

“Aggravated” he smirked as he looked at her, “See not annoyed or angry”

She silently laughed as she shook her head, “Kid, pretty sure, aggravation is a mixture of both.” He just shrugged, as he listened to her explanation, “Anyway, young man, try not to be too hard on him. Just remember how you felt and how much pain you went through when you first started coming here.”

“Thanks Bethany. I’ll see you around.” 

He took the bouquet and nodded his thanks as he headed towards the seventh floor. His feet followed the familiar path he’d taken over the past several years, he headed to the room he had gotten to know like the back of his hand. 

His feet froze as his eyes focused on the woman’s back sitting in the chair by the bed, his hand gripped the bouquet a little tighter, as he walked in, placing the bouquet in the vase beside the bed getting rid of the old flowers that were there, “Why are you here?” He mumbled without looking at her.

I glanced up to look at the man who vexed me to no end, I didn’t even bother responding to him as I focused my attention back on my book, glancing at my sister’s bedside cardiac monitor. I don’t know what was more vexing his voice, the fact he always showed up and usually brought her favourite flowers, or that he didn’t say much and still managed to get under my skin. My eyes glanced over as I watched him grab one of the chairs in the room and slid it beside mine. 

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