#and i mean you can always hound me for snippets

[coffeebanana]

where i'm at in life is i want to hoard fics until i have like 20 things to update and then unleash them all in a blur once i'm bursting at the seams with excitement. so if i just don't post anything for the next few months i swear i didn't die

i mean, probably. i can't actually predict the future

also watch me ignore this completely and post something this weekend

[tumblingxelian]

Business or Pleasure

Had some minor Chloleka thoughts post All in The Style, this one, but preceding the dancing snippet. this one.

Juleka might have realized too late that she had forgotten to call Rose to tell her how the fashion expo had gone.

-Of all the things to forget-

But she had made up for it next morning by waking up painfully early to pick up Rose's favorites from one of her beloved cafe's so they could chat the morning away. 

Which was how Juleka spent the first couple of hours of her morning before school. With Rose talking a mile a minute, be it about her own time at the Achu event or her bubbling excitement for Juleka's prospective career. 

-Juleka opted not to think for even a second how there had been a brief, very brief, moment where Rose's rapid fire speech reminded Juleka of Chloe rather than of Rose herself-

The excitement hadn't faded even as they arrived into the steadily filling up classroom, several of their classmates even popping in with their own questions.

Be it Marinette's wild flittering between interest in the expo itself, and none to subtle questions about Adrien, then polite enquiries about Juleka's own prospects. As well as Nathanial probing about color palettes or Nino wanting to know about the music. 

Juleka was a touch surprised to find herself fielding more questions than usual, over letting Rose do all the talking. She didn't say much but when she did speak it carried confidence and a firmness Juleka wasn't used to fielding. 

Then Chloe strode in, bold and brassy as usual, with Sabrina trailing behind her like a loyal hell-hound, the blonde beamed at her brightly and made a beeline for Juleka and Rose's desk.  

"Ah, just the star I wanted to see, I know I'm a little late, but I was collecting these!" Chloe unfurled a handful of business cards, each like those she'd been handing out the day before. All a blend of dark colors, subtle golden text with neon shaded flourish. "I had to wait on this new batch of to arrive before leaving today." 

"These look killer," Juleka murmured, accepting and shuffling through them.

"Naturally, I only hire the best," Chloe's way of thanking a person for a compliment. "I felt it ideal to go with something that blurs the line of traditional business and yet still catches your style without pigeon holding you too much. Its a delicate balance, much like handing them out will be." 

That caused Juleka to look back, eyebrows arched, she waited a moment and then pressed, "Can you expand on that?" 

Pleased to be so prompted, Chloe's smile brightened, "Your career will rise, exceptionalism is inevitable. But right now it's still new and it's best not to let anyone know it; that's part of why the cards need to exist and why I was handing them out at the expo."

"Looking professional makes sense, but handing them out, what did you mean there?"

Chloe bounded on her feet a little, "As to handing them out, well, it's best not to do so yourself. That looks desperate, you have people for that." Chloe clicked her finger and Sabrina robotically revealed one of the cards and mimed offering it to Juleka in Chloe's place. 

"But," Chloe added, causing Sabrina to withdraw the card, "You never want to be caught flat footed and under equipped. This is again about striking a balance." Chloe talked with her hands far more than Juleka had ever realized.

"So I always want to have some one me?" Juleka prompted.

"Yes!" Chloe cheered, "But never in the same place, always make it look like they were just lucky you decided to grace them with the card, that fate and the stars aligned that you just happened to have this 'one' on you. Then they feel special and you still look as above it all as you deserve to be." 

Juleka had heard a little about her mothers music career prior to retiring and while a lot of that sounded borderline insane, she could follow the logic. "Like imitating a more dangerous beast until you're big enough to hunt yourself." 

Chloe, honest to gods, purred, "Exactly~"

Juleka slipped a few of the business cards into different pockets and let Sabrina take the rest back and slip them into a slim satchel. 

"Now, before class, you did rank the offers like we discussed no?" Chloe's sudden switch to professional was almost neck breaking, but Juleka was getting used to the girl's rapid fire emotional settings.

"I did," She revealed the distinct cards of each of the companies, so many, gods so many, who had offered her a shoot or trial run and then quickly laid out her top preferences and worked her way down, forming a somewhat elaborate pattern on the desk. 

Chloe looked it over with a cool gaze, nodding then tapping her chin, "Keeping Leos and Lens on par with Mino Menos is good, Mino is feuding with Leo's primary ally right now, so it keeps you from alienating anyone too much." 

Chloe had more or less told her that much last night, but Juleka wasn't going to turn down the compliment. Instead watching as Chloe traced her long, sharp nails around the desk and touched on one of the mid ranked cards. 

"Why are these so low? I was sure you'd like their style, you seemed too last night." 

There was a subtle tremor in her voice, in her manner, almost impossible to pick up if one only paid attention to the tone which was the usual degree of haughty and self assured. but just underneath it was something like cracking glass. Her posture already retreating every so subtly.

"I do like it," Juleka assured firmly, letting her black locks fall away to reveal both her eyes. As Chloe became transfixed she continued, "I put them there because the shoot requires a dancer, and I've only ever raved." 

Watching Chloe's face flitter between half a dozen different emotions as she tried to CTRL-F the appropriate response. Either from the sudden shift in whatever had left her defensive, or in trying to find the appropriate response to the word "rave" was one of those slightly fascinating and concerning things that came from trying to understand the blonde. 

Finally Chloe hit what Juleka was calling a mental void and just shot through to the next point without comment or processing whatever had troubled her.

"Well, I can address that for you darling. The shoot would still be weeks away, that will be enough time to get you comfortable with a dancer's poise and posture." 

"You dance?" Rose asked, while Juleka's gaze drifted over Chloe's frame as the girl bounced up on her feet, chuckling cockily.

"Do I dance?" There was a string of sharp clicks as she pranced on the floor, "One year of tap," she switched naturally into a bold twirl and bowed, "Three years of classical," then pulled herself back, back arched, long, regal neck on full display and perfect for a vampires bite, and leg, long leg, he leg was held out high and she practically did a perfect standing split before twirling on her toe tips.

"Eight years of ballet," She then nodded at Adrien, "Adr-Kins can confirm." 

The other blonde perked up from the music he'd been listening to with Nino and quickly affirmed, "Oh yeah, Chloe's been dancing semi professionally for years, there was also gymnastics and that three month break dancin-" 

"Adrien, shut your zip! I mean zip your shut," Chloe growled and put a hand over Adrien's mouth, "SHH!" 

Adrien looked unrepentant and having a brother of her own, Juleka knew full well one did not put an appendage near one's maw and expect anything but-

"Ack, I can't believe you, really Adr-Kins!" Chloe hastily wiped her hand clean with a handkerchief given by Sabrina. 

'I would have bitten,' Juelka mused.

The boy just shrugged, "I was running out of air," he then turned to Juleka. "But yeah you can trust Chloe's dancing skills, she won't steer you wrong; not unless you intentionally step on her toes for a solid hour and she loses her patience."

"Hah," Chloe crowed, "Felix had it coming." 

Juleka very much wanted to know more about 'that' and several other things, but Madame Bustier's arrival signalled the time to wind down chatter. 

That however didn't stop Rose, as before Chloe was out of ear shot she asked, "Why were you embarrassed by breakdancing? I-"

Chloe was talking over Rose, face reddening, "Because-" She choked on her words the second she caught Juleka's sharp gaze. Juleka subtly shook her head and Chloe swallowed. Finally choking out, "Because it was not deemed appropriate of a style for one of my standing. It was ridiculous."

The last word was barely above a whisper.

Rose looked ready to speak again, always ready to press and playfully pry, but Juleka reached out and gripped the smaller girl's leg, distracting her and giving Chloe a dignified enough exit from the conversation. Just in time for Madame Bustier to call class to order. 

[solsticelosthermind]

Hello lovely <3

For the wip ask game, if they haven't been asked yet: please tell more about "Sskk- tiger and his hounds" and "Caught in the memories" :)

<3

Caught in the memories is a very messy, also very old idea I had when I first really got into bsd. It's another oop, caught in an ability that makes them see/endure/fight each other's memories!! style fic, because I wanted to explore the complexity that is their relationships to dazai and how dazai haunts and manipulates the space between them so heavy handedly toward the beginning. Half of the doc right now is a scene post-ability where akutagawa breaks down about why am i never enough and atsushi catches him because what else is he supposed to do? And then there's a side snippet of Dazai having watched this, and how chuuya calls him out about it, and another very anger-driven scene that is atsushi confronting dazai about it. I feel like I've gotten a better handle on characterization, so I want to rework this, but at the heart of it, it's just—there are two boys. All they do is bleed. If Atsushi isn't allowed to stitch himself up, he'll stitch akutagawa back together instead.

Tiger and his hounds is one of the first fics I ever started poking at for bsd. Bare bones basics: it's Atsushi if he was just slightly softer, and how I think that would lead to accidentally collecting akutagawa, dazai and (admittedly, fanon version of) chuuya into a messy found family style fix-it arc—those are his hounds, thank you. His pack, if you will. (I will.) The original plan was just to write little scenes where sskk run into each other between the big moments in canon to show and develop the trust and understanding between akutagawa and atsushi; it quickly turned into "Oh god this is a whole canon re-write" focusing on sskk, skk, found family, recovery, and that trust/understanding, and I'll be so honest. This is my baby. I love what I've got in this file. I am also finding excuses to not read the entire manga/rewatch the anime again so I can actually flesh out all the bullet points lmfao because that seems like So Much!! I'll get there. I literally daydream about this fic constantly.

Here's a snippet for right after the moby dick does down:

Akutagawa’s cheeks are hollowed out. His hair is caught on his forehead, a puddle forming around his head, but somehow his coat is dry. Rashomon can, apparently, also devour water. But his boots are soaked. It’d be funny in any other situation, but he’s not sure if any of them are real, in this moment. “He acts like he needs your permission,” he says instead. Something about that tastes wrong, so he rolls the words around his mouth again. “He acts like you…” “Atsushi,” Dazai starts, soft and careful, only to falter when Atsushi looks up at him with a smile. “You’re different now,” Atsushi says, equally soft and careful. The headmaster is gone, but Akutagawa isn’t. “Aren’t you?” Dazai’s face goes blank and his eyes shutter right before he looks away entirely. “I don’t know,” he says, and there’s so much honesty in that one sentence Atsushi’s eyes decide to leak. He brushes the tears away with the back of his hand and nods. “I think you are,” he says, turning his attention back to his partner. “Can you get Kyōka to the dorms? She needs to eat something and get into her own clothes. I’m going to stay here.” There’s a pause as Dazai examines him. “He won’t thank you, you know.” It pulls a real laugh out of him and he offers Dazai his own lopsided smile. “I know. But he was kind of my partner for this mission, right? So leaving when he’s vulnerable isn’t going to happen, no matter how pissed he is at me later. I mean, he’s always pissed at me, anyway.“ Inexplicably, Dazai grimaces. Or maybe he’s just tired too, since he shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a good kid,” he says, turning away again. Atsushi watches him walk for a moment, and then bundles Akutagawa’s body up into his arms. He’s terrifyingly small against Atsushi’s chest, black coat swallowing him up. So much has happened in the last few hours. It feels like everything’s different, but it’s not. Not really. Dazai’s right. Akutagawa won’t wake any kinder. There’s so much Atsushi doesn’t understand. He’ll have to pay more attention. As he turns to lay him out on the closest bench, his sensitive hearing picks up Dazai’s melancholic voice. “…too good for the likes of us dogs.”

[winesink]

WIP Wednesday: another snippet from the Sansan hockey AU I pretty much only work on during intermissions lol

Practices are always light in between series - limited to freeskates, mostly. It leaves the boys loads of time to talk. Sandor is well-used to ignoring them, but it gets more difficult when the phones come out and they start huddling and whispering like school boys with a nudie mag. He intervenes when it becomes obvious Jamie is being aggressively oblivious.

"Fuck's going on over here?"

Redwyne nearly pisses himself. "Nothing."

"Like hell. Either tell me what's more important than practice or get back on the ice."

"Nothing is more important than practice, sir!" Pod chirps happily. He looks like he means it, damn him.

"Don't call me 'sir,' kid," Sandor grumbles, knowing full well it won't do any good. As predicted, Pod just continues to hide his general fear of Sandor behind an absent, amiable smile. "If practice is so important to you, why are you over here?"

"Saving energy?" Hetherspoon offers, but the idiot draws attention to himself at exactly the wrong time and Sandor merely squints at him until he turns up the phone he'd been trying to sneak under his garter.

Sandor sighs. "Locker room, you twit."

The lad begins to oblige, but Bettley stops him. "Actually, Hound, you might wanna see this." The two exchange a look, but it's Sandor who cringes with Hetherspoon. "I think you'll like it," Bettley continues.

It's an understatement, not that Sandor can say as much. When Hetherspoon turns the phone his way, Sandor has the unique experience of being thankful for the thick, gnarled skin of his face for the way it must cover his blush. On screen, Joffrey Baratheon's pretty girlfriend poses for a mirror selfie in Sandor's jersey and little else. 'Onto the next one' the caption reads, along with a rose and lion emoji to make it clear she's referring to their oncoming series. 

He feigns ignorance. "What am I looking at, exactly?"

"Sansa Stark," Redwyne supplies stupidly. Sandor cuts him a look. "Joffrey Baratheon's ex?"

Ex. Trying hard as he can to stop that train of thought from even leaving the station, Sandor turns back to the phone still being thrust in his direction.

Mistake.

Hetherspoon swipes and the photo changes. She's on her tummy now, the camera angled to only show a corner of her pretty face as his name and numbers writ large across her back seems to be the focus. She's wearing thigh high socks - Casterly colors. Her cute little feet are held aloft, bisecting the neat, feminine bedroom visible in the background. The caption of this one congratulates him on his game winning goal in game five. There are more emojis. A lion/dog combo that's easy enough to interpret, but he has no idea what the remaining jumble is meant to convey. Perhaps that she's dehydrated? There's a lot of water droplets.

Sandor huffs exaggeratedly. "Am I meant to care about some puck slut posing for risque pictures?"

"That's Ned Stark's daughter," Pod objects. 

Redwyne adds, "What're you drowning in options, Hound?"

He outright shakes at the glare Sandor levels him with. 

"She's not a puck… girl," Pod insists, oblivious.

"Some young bird I've never met posting pictures on an app I don't even have and had no way of seeing before you idiots decided to butt in isn't exactly an option either, is it?" It's a blow to the pride to say in front of these shites, but has the desired effect of chastising them. "Quit wasting my time. Phones away and get back to work."

[drabblesandimagines]

Lemon Tarts preview, pleasey? 🍋 (´▽｀*)

I'm sorry this has taken me an age! Still chipping away but enjoy another snippet. First snippet here.

---

Clive Rosfield x female reader

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She offers you a bright smile, soft, encouraging words, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek and a bowl of stew in her hand. The aroma makes your mouth water and your stomach ache. She places it at the entrance to your hiding place, says if you want it, she'll leave it there. You could crawl forward a little, stretch out your arm as far as it will go and drag it back to eat. You could, but you don’t.

You can’t.

Clive had made himself scarce - hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own - and had gone in search of the seamstress, planning for the night to come. “Hortense, do you have any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow!” Hortense beams, digging in her supplies. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no – not for me.” Clive runs hot – has done ever since he’d embraced the powers of Ifrit. “One of the new Bearers is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she doesn't – it can be quite cold.”

“Oh, the poor mite!” She frowns, picking up a fleecy grey blanket at once and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Is she at least properly dressed?”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers, dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I’m sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

Clive makes back for your hiding spot, though finds what is most likely an unwelcome guest. Torgal is stood at the entrance, licking the remains of what must have been the bowl of stew Molly had left.

“Away from there, boy!” Clive snaps and the wolf hound retreats to his side with a whine, a tilt of his head, unsure what he's done. “Sorry, Torgal, just... that wasn’t for you – that was for our guest.” He chides, stepping over and kneeling a step away from the entrance – your head buried back in your knees, trembling.

“I’m so sorry, my lady. Torgal – he’s my hound. I’m afraid he must’ve picked up the scent of Molly’s stew and followed it here, probably thought it was his dinner.” Torgal barks, as if he’s in agreement, and you jump in place.

“Please – forgive him. He still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine, and he means you no harm.”

--

[multistanisms]

Let Our Circle Be Unbroken | NCT | Ch 1

FANDOM: NCT [other groups will be featured/mentioned]

PAIRING: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Yuta x OC

WORD COUNT: 3,652

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY:  Surviving a near death experience comes with a lot of surprises when warlock Jeong Jaehyun finds a dragon in a place that holds tragic memories for him. Nothing is as whirlwind, though, as when Jaehyun begins to meet the little clan of misfits Taeyong has gathered over the years and a mystery is revealed.

Previous || Masterlist || Next

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Unconsciousness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, honestly. Jaehyun knew it was a fact of life that sometimes you just had to rest, and given the way he had been injured, rest was of utmost importance. It didn’t mean his hearing didn’t occasionally pick up on things, though. Accented voices were easily discernible after a few lifetimes of living all over the world. He was able to pick up three distinct voices; two males and a female. What snippets he did catch were a mix between banter and matter of fact tones. 

"I'm surprised he lasted so long…didn’t know how...Ari and I to get here." A distinct Japanese accent with an inflection of age. An older being, no doubt.

"I don't know what...where he came... a portal or...caught me off...else to call." 

"...blood loss…-cerns me, boys." The one that seemed to be tending to him was the female. "He's lucky…survived. I can heal a fra-...major wound, and helping with….time to heal." 

It went quiet again, though Jaehyun didn't know for how long. His chest didn't feel like it was being crushed the next time he gained a form of semi-consciousness. His arm felt heavy, but no pain. 'Oh gods, tell me I kept my arm.' He thinks in the gray-black of what has to be a kind of comatose state. It dawns on him that perhaps his wounds were much worse than he had initially cataloged. 

"Is he always so talkative, Taeyongie?" The first voice is light and playful this time, and Jaehyun is aware of what sounds like a hot beverage being sipped at. 

"You're certainly one to talk. You've been oddly quiet all day." The second voice - Taeyongie - had retorted. 

"Arashi has been working on things." The first voice replied. 

"Yuta, you know she's doing her best. Everything will be okay." 

"Don't say that too loudly, now. She already puts enough pressure on herself as is."

"It's not pressure if she chose to help find him."

"Or bring him back as safely as possible." The woman is back again, Arashi, if Jaehyun is correct. "But enough about that. How's my new friend?" Soft chuckles resound from the two men and Jaehyun is vaguely aware of his arm moving. Everything is quiet as Arashi examines him, or at least Jaehyun thinks that's what she's doing. Her hands are warm, much warmer than Jaehyun would consider normal, but there's a calming sensation.

'She's a witch.' Jaehyun realized. 'At the very least, she's a healer.'

"It's gonna take him some time to fully heal, but I think I can take the sleeping spell off. The worrisome things about his wounds are healed enough that he shouldn't need constant supervision." There's a sigh of relief, and Arashi chuckles. "Scared he wouldn't make it, Yongie?" 

"A little. There was a lot of blood."

"I can't say it was all his. There was quite a bit from the wild hound that you basically ate whole." Arashi countered, a smirk in her voice.

"Hey, it was gonna attack me. It had already attacked him, I wasn’t about to let it have the chance to do the same to me."

"We don't doubt that. You just haven't taken that form in a long time." Yuta assured. "Do you need anything from us, Ari?"

"Some space. You two go, I'll join you as soon as I'm done." There's a shuffle as the two men stand and leave the room and Arashi is left with him. “Well, let’s hope you aren’t a serial killer or something. Not often people just show up for us.” She mused, and for a moment, there’s the sound of gathering materials before sounds grew fuzzy as he once more fell under. 

The sun was beaming through a crack in a set of dark curtains when Jaehyun next became aware. Reptilian eyes opened as he groaned, reaching up to cup his head as he fought to sit up. The change in position made his head spin, but he managed to finish the motion, leaving his eyes closed for a long moment. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd wake up." The voice takes Jaehyun by surprise and he looks up too quickly, groaning and dropping his head again to catch his bearings. Then he slowly looks up, taking the woman in for the first time. She’s unsurprisingly not what he had expected. Her height is smaller than he envisioned, but she’s curvaceous in the right places. Her hair is bleached blonde and then streaked with bright red highlights, the tendrils falling about her face in messy layers. Her lips are quirked up in a kind but playful smile. “I’m certainly glad you pulled through.”

“Where am I?” Jaehyun asked, which was certainly more important to him than confirming she was the woman he’d been aware of while unconscious. He watched her hum thoughtfully, head tilting as she did so. 

“Mm…somewhere safe, I gather.” she mused, letting hazel eyes close with a chuckle as she shoved from the door frame. “I’m Arashi. At least it’s what the boys call me. Would it be rude to ask your name?”

“J…Jaehyun.” It’s a response that actually catches Jaehyun off guard. In any other circumstance, he would have lied. Was it the location or the people? “My name is Jaehyun.”

Arashi nodded as she hummed to herself again, a little nod as she did so. “Well, Jaehyun, we’re getting ready to start dinner, and you should probably meet Yongie and Yuta. Especially if you’re gonna be sticking around to heal.”

“I really shouldn't-" Jaehyun started to decline, but Arashi lifted her hand, cutting him off. 

"You were banged up pretty bad. Yongie didn't have to call us, but he did. That means something." She explained. "And honestly, I spent a good chunk of time healing what I could and I'd like to make sure you actually, ya know, heal properly." It's a logic Jaehyun knew he couldn't argue with; he himself had done the same thing on numerous occasions in his life. Arashi took his silence as a form of acknowledgement, nodding once. "Alright then. Want help getting to the kitchen?"

"No, I think I can make due." Jaehyun answered, taking a slow breath. 

"Coffee or tea?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you drink coffee or tea?"

"Do you have any Lady Grey?"

Arashi grins at the inquiry. "I like you already, Jaehyun. Most people go with the Earl." Her smile is warm, and Jaehyun can't help but smile back. 

"The lady has a naturally sweeter disposition when it comes to flavor."

"I'm inclined to agree, Jaehyun. I'll start your cup. Call if you need help." Then she's gone, leaving the door open as she makes her way down the hall. There's the sound of stairs that suddenly make him question whether he really is at the manor he had envisioned in his last ditch effort to survive. Now alone, the warlock moved to take a look around and found...not what he expected. Where he is shouldn't be a room. It was a sunroom the last he was there, complete with a skylight. The furniture was all dark to help contrast the brightness of the room. The floor to ceiling window along one wall has been fitted with curtains that look like heavy, insulated silk. Eyes lift to search above him, finding the skylight still remains, but is rigged with a contraption to cover it with large wood blinds using a small rope. Familiar and yet so completely, utterly foreign. Looking back down, Jaehyun took a breath and pulled the blankets back, turning to stand. The loss of his tattered clothes isn't surprising, but the sweatpants and dark tshirt are. 

"I had Yuta get you some things." 

Jaehyun startled at a new voice, reptilian eyes looking to land on a young man. Pink hair is fluffy and akin to wild around a soft featured face. It takes a moment of looking at the other male before it dawns which male is before him. Unlike Arashi, this one isn’t at all what he had expected. “You’re Taeyongie.” It’s a statement more than anything else, and Jaehyun is very aware of the blush that creeps along the other’s cheeks. 

“Actually, it’s just Taeyong. Taeyongie is a nickname, as is Yongie, which if you recognize my voice, you’ll know the others have called me.” He explains, hands moving to fidget with the worn end of the long sleeved shirt he’s wearing. “You can call me that, if you’d like, by the way. I figured I would come in to check on you.”

A brow arched as Jaehyun heard the words. “Despite the fact Arashi was just here?”

“You were in pretty bad shape.” Taeyong replied. “It’s become what could be considered a habit to not leave you alone for too long.” 

Confirmation settled on the extent of his injuries, Jaehyun nodded a little to himself as he thought. “Taeyong…how long have I been here?”

“Hm? How long?” Taeyong goes quiet to think, sunlight from between the curtains catching his eyes to create a kind of diamond rainbow effect in his irises. “Just about a week? Maybe a day or two more?”

“A week?” Jaehyun questioned, eyes going wide. “How…why?”

“It wasn’t easy. The wound in your side was laced with something, and you lost a lot of blood.” Taeyong replied. “It was touch and go, but once Yuta and Arashi got here, things started turning around. She did a lot with her magic, and I’m sure she’s far more exhausted than she’s letting on.” He settled into a silence, tongue wetting his lips, unaware of Jaehyun’s heart leaping a little. “So, um, we’re working on dinner, if you’d like to join us?”

"Of course." Jaehyun moved to stand. He was fully aware that Taeyong was watching him as he carefully got on his feet, the male poised to help if need be. Standing wasn't terrible, but the first step had him wobbly and Taeyong was at his side from one second to the next to catch him. "Guess my body is used to not moving."

"You have been comatose for a week." Taeyong replied with a playful smirk. "I'm sure you'll get your balance back quickly, though. Nonhumans recover fairly quickly. It's just a part of who we are." 

"What are you guys?"

Taeyong chuckled and shrugged one shoulder as he helped steady Jaehyun. "A little of everything, honestly. The clan kind of welcomes anyone."

"That doesn't answer my question." Jaehyun answered, chuckling as he felt his footing become more secure. 

"I'm a dragon." Taeyong answered. "You'll have to figure out the others on your own or just ask them." He said, gradually releasing Jaehyun as the other began to walk on his own more. "Arashi wants to make sure you're at your best, and I'm inclined to agree."

"I at least need to make contact with a few people." Jaehyun replied, glad that he could move on his own once he was near the bottom of the staircase. "I own safehouses and they need to know I'm alright." He paused at the smell of grilling meat and vegetables. "It smells delightful."

Taeyong gave a snorting sound. "Yuta has surprisingly good cooking sense."

"He was cooking before he met you." It was Arashi, coming in from where Jaehyun knew the kitchen was. A grin was on her face, giving a nod when she took in Jaehyun. "I'm glad you're on your feet already. Just don't go pushing yourself too fast to do normal things." Her tone had the slightest hint of scolding, but Jaehyun could tell her heart was in the right place. Her attention turned to Taeyong, and she reached up to ruffle his hair. "Come help us, Yongie. You know how hyper focused Yuta can get when he's grilling."

Taeyong laughed and nodded. "Sure, sure. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna make up some salad stuff." Arashi said, taking a few steps backwards towards where she'd come from. "Just a little bit, mostly for me." Her eyes turned to Jaehyun as she moved. "Would you like some, Jaehyun?" 

Jaehyun's mind was still reeling from the location, from the domestic gentleness that now called this place home. "Sure. Do you mind if I help?"

"I'm not sure you should be handling sharp objects, so you can wash the vegetables and help get the table set.” Arashi motions her head and he follows her into the kitchen, and Jaehyun is not expecting what he finds. 

It’s as if the place he knows is gone, nothing but a nightmarish fever dream he made up, but there are still traces he can sense, even if it seems they're weak. Ghosts embedded in the wood and foundation, or was it his mind trying to recall them? His eyes take in the newly remodeled kitchen area, which has been altered with a series of broken down walls to include a massive dining area with a very large set of tables that could easily seat fifty people. The colors are almost forest-like, greens of all shades and accents of all kinds of color. A welcoming environment that Jaehyun is puzzled by. 

"You seem oddly suspicious of the manor." Arashi's voice catches him off guard, and he turns to find even the counter space has changed. There's more of it now, and the massive room as a whole gives a very familial feel that is foreign to him, even as he watches her set vegetables aside. 

"Let's just say I was once familiar with the workings." Jaehyun answered, walking over to join her and help wash the vegetables off. "It isn't what it used to be, that's for sure."

"Yongie did most of the renovation by himself. He wanted a place we could always come back to, a kind of base camp, I guess you could call it. The clan tends to end up drifting for periods at a time, but we always end up back together." Arashi explained, moving to set up their area to make the salad. "Yuta and I came to help a few times, and I'm sure some of the others did as well." 

"How big is the clan?"

"Like how many of us?" There's a pause and Arashi counts under her breath. "Just off the top of my head, I think we're somewhere in the twenties? But that doesn't count any significant others or familiars that anyone has gained since we were all last together. I haven't met everyone just yet, but I know who they are." Her voice reflects the smile on her face, but Jaehyun can hear the soft sadness in the tone. 

"How long has it been?"

"Yuta said the last time everyone was together was about six years ago. Very crowded at the time. I think that's why Yongie took to this place so easily. It's a very large property and getting wards up was no hassle." 

"Wards?" Jaehyun asked.

Arashi nodded. "I put them up while Yongie was still working downstairs. Nothing with bad intentions can get through. I think the only reason the hound made it through was because it was attached to you."

"What happened to it, exactly?"

"It's been taken care of." Arashi replied, beginning to put the lettuce into a bowl and reaching for some of the carrots. "Don't worry, Jaehyun, you're safe here. As for contacting your people in safe houses, we have good reception out here, so you should be able to call everyone very easily." She began chopping them up, but paused for a few moments suddenly, shaking her head quickly after as if shaking off a chill. 

The movement isn't missed by Jaehyun, who cocks his head and quirks a brow. "Are you okay?" He inquired as he moved to wash off more of the vegetables and help the witch out.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.” Arashi brushes off, continuing on. “I take it you were outed by someone?”

Jaehyun looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Yongie said the hound was in attack mode, that usually means hunters.” Arashi said, her tone sounding almost absent for a moment. “Hunters like to use dogs, especially the long time hunting families, saying they’re ridding the world of evil by killing us, but most of the time, I wonder if they bothered to actually look into the people they murder.” 

Jaehyun recognizes the anger beneath the words, but he can’t bring himself to argue. He knows all too well the kind of unforgiving acts hunters are capable of. Deciding it was best to change the subject, he helps with putting the cut vegetables into prospective bowls. “So how long have you been part of this clan?” He’s glad when the question brings a bit of calm over Arashi, and she pauses for a moment. 

“How long?” she hums for a moment as she thinks. “I met Johnny and Yuta…eight years ago?” There’s a smile curving her lips as she remembers, and it’s enough to make Jaehyun smile as well. “I was still working at the sanctuary cafe back then.”

“There’s a sanctuary cafe?�� Jaehyun inquires.

“Oh, yeah! There’s a whole network.” Arashi grinned at him. “Of course, there’s protocol and such that go into establishing a sanctuary, but most of them are cafes. I worked at Le Lune for three or four years when I met the boys. It was a great place, honestly. Customers and staff alike, it was kind of like a home.” The slow roll into gentleness from her previous anger settles the unease of their previous topic, and Jaehyun finds himself listening as he sets the bowls in the fridge to stay cold. “You know, I wasn’t even supposed to work that day. My coworker’s mate went into labor.” 

“Some would call that luck.” Jaehyun mused, returning to her side and sliding another bowl to grab her next prepped vegetable. 

“Something like that.” Arashi replied. “I was wiping tables when they first came in. It struck me as odd for a moment, seeing a vampire and werewolf so casually together. Regardless, it started there, now I’m here. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.” The smile on her lips is enamored and soft, giving the witch a content appearance as she sets her knife down to wash the orange from the freshly cut carrots from her hands. 

Jaehyun turns from her to collect the carrots and put them in the bowl, and there’s a kind of shift in the air that feels off that he doesn’t recognize. Before he can try to figure it out, there’s a slam from the sliding door of the patio as it’s flung open that makes him jump. His eyes first look at the now open door, then take in the room as he turns, eyes widening a fraction at the sight of an unfamiliar male cradling an unconscious Arashi to his chest. Dark red hair frames his face, eyes a blend of crimson and liquid gold that Jaehyun recognizes as those of a born vampire. ‘This must be the Yuta that Arashi and Taeyong have mentioned.’ he thinks, watching the male as he adjusts his hold on Arashi so he can brush hair from her face. 

Taeyong enters a moment later, looking confused before he catches sight of Yuta standing to carry Arashi from the kitchen. “What happened?”

“I have no idea. We were talking and then she just collapsed, I guess.” Jaehyun answers, eyes watching the doorway. There’s a sigh from Taeyong, and the dragon shakes his head a little. 

“Magic wear.” he murmurs. “We told her not to push herself, but she’s so stubborn sometimes.” Running a hand through rainbow hair, he goes out into the den, fully aware of the warlock following him. Arashi is laid in an oversized wicker chair that’s settled in the corner, silent except for her breathing. “Hopefully she isn’t out too long this time.”

“This has happened before?” Jaehyun asks.

“Once or twice.”

“She doesn’t like to let us know when she’s starting to feel the effects.” A deeper voice chimes in to add to the statement, a low rumble akin to a growl in Yuta’s voice as he appears with a large plush blanket in his arms. He drapes it over Arashi, moving her arm so they weren’t confined beneath the fabric before settling into the space beside her, fingers brushing through her hair as she seems to curl into him. It’s an action JAehun has seen a handful of times in his life, and it dawns on him a moment later. 

“The two of you are mates.” he states more than asks, smiling warmly at the sight. “That’s why you were able to react before anyone else. You sensed it before we did.”

Yuta glances at where Jaehyun stands, eyes no longer that tell-tale sign of his heritage faded into dark brown eyes. He nods once, adjusting so that one arm is holding up his head as he watches Arashi with concern. “She doesn’t like to worry us, but when she pushes herself too far, it can be the most worrisome.”

“I should get a couple of rooms ready.” Taeyong spoke up. “You know them, depending where they are right now-”

“They could be here within a day.” Yuta finished, nodding as his focus shifted to the two standing in the den with him. “I can’t move her yet, Tongue.”

“I got it. You worry about Arashi. JAehyun can help me set up the beds, right?” Taeyong asked, looking at Jaehyun. “Think you’re willing to help set up a couple of rooms?”

“For who?”

“Arashi’s familiars.” Yuta answered first. “They’re part of small clans of their own. With Arashi fainting from overusing her magic in a short time frame-”

“Both clans are either on their way already or about to be on the move.”

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Dead Zone (1983)

You walk into The Dead Zone with certain assumptions based on the names on the poster. Though David Cronenberg has directed many different films in various genres, when you see his name next to Stephen King’s, you expect a lot of gross corpses and nightmare fuel. With Christopher Walken in the lead, you might think the film will be… a bit goofy? I mean let’s face it, he’s basically become a living meme at this point. That’s not what you’re getting. I’m not sure I’d even categorize The Dead Zone as a horror film; it’s a blend between several genres, a great Twilight Zone-type story with an excellent performance from its lead, strong emotions throughout and a great conclusion.

After a date with his girlfriend, Sarah (Brooke Adams), Johnny Smith (Walken) is injured in a car accident and left comatose. Waking up after five years, Johnny discovers he now has psychic abilities. By touching someone, he can learn about their future, past, or parts of their present even they may be unaware of.

In many stories, we’ve seen superheroes lament their extraordinary abilities - it’s never sat well with me. Rotten luck with the girl next door or not, everyone wants to be Spider-Man. In The Dead Zone, Johnny’s power feels like a curse. While he manages to save someone soon after waking up, news of this extraordinary skill quickly spreads and in no time, he’s being hounded by reporters who want to turn him into an exhibit and strangers who want his help for trivial matters like finding a lost dog. The man’s already having a difficult enough time accepting that he no longer has a job or a girlfriend, that he’s missed out on half a decade of living and now this? It’s no wonder he wants to return this gift.

What follows are a series of episodic “adventures” that always ultimately return to Johnny and his relationship with the rest of the world as seen by the way he interacts with children. When the film begins, he is a school teacher. When he wakes up from his coma, he has lost his job and learns that Sarah now has a husband and a young child of her own. She represents the life he missed because of his accident. Later, a 15-year-old girl is murdered by a serial killer and authorities briefly convince Johnny to return to the world from his self-imposed exile to help with the investigation. In another film, this hunt for a murderer with Sheriff George Bannerman (Tom Skerritt) would’ve been the whole movie. Here, it’s just a snippet of a bigger story as Johnny figures out how and when he wants to use his abilities. His desire to have a family, to keep children safe or to follow his calling as a teacher always bring him back to our world but his ability to see beyond pushes him away. Meanwhile, the mysteries to solve always remain secondary to the emotional journey. It’s a perfect marriage delicately balanced by director Cronenberg, who infuses so much humanity in this fantastic tale.

As Johnny, Christopher Walken delivers an excellent performance. You can feel the whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him. The heartbreak of losing his sweetheart, the daunting questions regarding his abilities, the frustration and isolation that come with his newfound fame. He’s aided by an excellent screenplay by Jeffrey Boam, who improves the novel by King by tying every episode together thematically and condensing the story into an efficient package.

The Dead Zone easily ranks among the best adaptations of Stephen King’s works. It’s so much more than its premise, which is saying something considering the potential of Johnny’s abilities. The characters are rich, the interactions are emotional and human. The conclusion is perfect. I’m not sure how it would play out a second time when you know the answers to each of the mysteries we encounter but I intend to find out. It’s a movie you’ll want to revisit. (August 20, 2021)

[afewproblems]

A & F!

Thank you thank you my friend!

A: How did you come up with the title for [insert fic]?

I'm going to choose my most recent WIP, In My Heart is a Memory (And There You’ll Always Be)

Since this is a story about a relationship that was primarily at its best point in the past, I took the title for this Childhood friends AU from the saddest scene in the Fox and the Hound.

It made me cry and now you're all going to join me!

F: Share a Snippet of one of your favorite dialogue scenes and why you're proud of it.

Ooo this is really tough, but I think I was pretty proud of this whole scene of dialogue from You Can Only Remember What you Want to Forget (Mean Eddie AU)

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly. Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie.  "You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are". Oh.  Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know". "Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--" "I know--" "No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut. He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on.  "I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward. "I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?"  "Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?" "See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter.  He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man". Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?" "Yeah well, I actually mean it this time". "...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been. 

This whole scene, it's like the final nail in the coffin for Steve and his perception of their relationship, he thinks he finally understands how Eddie actually feels about him, and that all the dancing around each other they have been doing was completely one sided.

Eddie on the other hand, is somewhat under the impression that he was still able to apologize for his earlier sleight even with all of this going on. He stumbles over his words, nervous because he also just realized that the person who ruined his life in highschool, was Not actually Steve.

It's just, I felt like I got so much subtext into a fairly short amount of space and I was so happy with how off the rails this conversation went and where it took the rest of the story!

(I know that was long, sorry about the ramble!!) Thank you very much for sending these!!

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Brilliant Diamond Snippets: Sins Of Education

Hey hey hey here's another installment in the Snippets series, and this one's a bit of an odd Psyduck for multiple reasons.It's for a Mystery Egg Run of Pokemon Brilliant Diamond that I started in 2022, promptly dropped, then resumed in 2024 because it was the first year in a while with no mainline Pokemon content and people voted for it to fill the gap, and I finally finished in 2025.Second, due to this being kind of a filler Umbra Plays, there was less drabble content for it, which is why this is a oneshot everywhere instead of being a oneshot some places and a mini-chapterfic others like the last few Snippets. Third, the plot is a bit out there in ways you'll have to read to find out. (Though before I go in credits to the We Are All Pokemon Trainers RP and especially DuneTheWanderer for the entire concept of The School.) So go ahead and do that in:

Brilliant Diamond Snippets: Sins Of Education

Greed looked around Veilstone City. The seaside view contrasted with all the concrete and tall buildings. Leaving that aside, he turned to his teammates, who were lounging outside the Pokemon Center. 

Wrath was seething in the corner, as usual. Lust was preening herself. Pride was gloating about... something to Sloth, who had fallen asleep. Gluttony was chowing down on chips. Envy's tail head was glaring at him again for reasons he couldn't ascertain. Greed groaned. "Come on guys! We need to get to the next Gym! There are trainers there! Trainers mean money!"

"We don't need such things," said Pride. "I'm perfect."

"I'm busy here," said Lust. "Why do you always act like you're in charge?" said Envy's tail head. "Leave him alone!" said Envy. Sloth was still asleep. Gluttony was still eating. "Yeah, why do you act like you're in charge?" said Wrath. "Buzz off."

Greed sighed. "You all are useless."

Neon watched them from a short distance away. He couldn't glean everything, but his telepathic powers picked up a lot. His team was definitely... disjointed. But he kind of enjoyed that. They were good companions. Not like—

No. The School was behind him. It was gone. Mewtwo had struck it down. He was free. He didn't have to look back. 

So why did all the experiments, all the discipline, all the tests still haunt him?

No. He couldn't think about that. The Veilstone Gym awaited. 

He went to get his team. …Was he going to make it? -------------------

Neon and his team had fought Pavo again recently. Pavo was also from the School. They were a specially engineered Templar, one of the School's enforcers. They’d been lucky to escape with their life when Mewtwo had destroyed the School, but they'd been hounding Neon ever since for reasons only known to them.

Pavo had imposing powers – they could create monstrous phantom Pokemon from people's mindscapes and control them through that – but as an actual Pokemon battler they were ineffective, and Neon always won against them. Pavo would always fume, seethe, and storm off. 

How different things were. 

Back when the School was around, the Schoolchildren like Neon were "liquidated" – culled – when they had outlived their usefulness as human-with-Pokemon-power experiments. And the Templars were often the ones to do the deed. 

If that were still the case, Pavo could have slaughtered him easily. 

But that was the past. Mewtwo had made sure of that personally. And now Neon was eternally grateful that Gluttony could oneshot Pavo's Monferno with a Bulldoze. 

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

"Neon, can I ask you something?"

Neon turned to Riley, who was walking behind him in the dim caves of Iron Island, and tilted his head. 

"Sure?"

"What's your story? You don't seem like the people like me who are here because they have too much time on their hands."

Neon thought to himself for a moment, then scanned Riley's thoughts. 

"...I can tell you're doing that."

Neon jumped and squeaked. 

"Don't worry," said Riley. "I mean no harm."

Neon nodded. "Alright..."

He told Riley everything. About the School, how he was raised as a disposable lab rat, how Mewtwo did it all in when the School used his DNA, how he and the survivors were picking up the pieces. By the end Riley's face was very grave. 

"I'm... so sorry. It's awful you had to go through that."

Neon just nodded solemnly. 

"You said these people are gone, but... You've been fighting remnants of them, correct?"

Neon nodded again.

"If they wanted complete genetic control of Aura... there's no telling what those remnants will try to do to recapture their former glory. Be careful." 

He frowned. 

"Speaking of.. The Pokemon here are restless. I don't like this. We should keep moving."

Neon looked around and froze. Near them were two people in odd purple armored uniforms. He gestured to Riley to look. Riley's face grew steely.

"...Right. Let's go."

They marched forward to the two strange trainers, ready to take them down.

---------

Neon couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

Before him was Justinian, a Templar – elite unit – of the now-gone School. Before HIM was Dialga, the god of time. 

"We've done it, dudes! We've summoned Dialga! Now I can rewind time and restore the School to its former glory!" ~You're insane,~ said Pavo, right next to Neon. ~Dialga... Can't you feel its anger? It's not going to help you, it's just going to go berserk!~

Neon could feel it too. But he wouldn't call it anger. He was picking up thoughts like, "Not again," and, "Didn't the last guys in spacesuits try the same thing?"

"I've learned there's more to live for than the School, Justinian," said Pavo. "You need to end this."

"I'll end this when I win!"

He sent out a very unusual Tauros. One with black fur and fiery accents. Neon sent out Envy. 

"A Paldean Tauros? Where the hell did he get that?" said Envy's tail head. "I'm jealous, could use a team member like tha—"

The Tauros rammed into her full force, sending her skidding back. "Ow, ow, never mind!"

She blasted the Tauros with a Psychic. It went down. 

Next, however, was a very large, Qwilfish-like creature. It chomped into Envy with a Crunch. 

"Ow... Damn... you..."

Envy collapsed. Neon knew he had to act fast. He sent out Gluttony. 

"Food?"

He looked at the strange Qwilfish. 

"SUSHI!"

He slammed the ground with an Earthquake. The strange Qwilfish was sent careening into the stony floor of Spear Pillar. 

"Dude... how? That was all my Pokemon!" said Justinian. 

~You seriously still had just those two? You were going to resurrect the School with just a few flunkies and TWO POKEMON?!~

"...Yes. But I'm not afraid! We still have Dialga!"

Dialga rolled its eyes and looked expectantly at Neon. As if to say, "Get me out of this situation. Please." Neon nodded and sent out Wrath. 

"I'M GOING TO KILL TIME! LITERALLY!" said Wrath. 

He hit Dialga with a Drain Punch. Dialga flinched but stayed standing. Neon pulled out an Ultra Ball, then tossed it at Dialga. 

"Ha!" said Justinian. "You'll never catch it in tha—"

The ball sucked Dialga in, shook three times, and clicked. 

"...Maybe I should rethink my life."

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

Neon was facing Pavo down. 

~Spear Pillar wasn't enough,~ they said. ~I need to truly test you here.~

Neon nodded and produced a Pokeball.  Pavo and he tossed theirs out at the same time. 

First came Gluttony vs. Pavo's Infernape. Gluttony sized up the Infernape before him. 

"You don't look like food..." he said with a frown. 

The Infernape simply screeched in defiance and rammed into Gluttony with a Close Combat. 

"Ow, ow, ow!" said Gluttony. He retaliated with an Earthquake, knocking the Infernape to the floor. 

"Not good... " said Pavo. "Go, Basculegion!"

A Basculegion was sent out. Neon responded with Wrath. 

"Your fish face... It makes me ANGRY." 

He produced a Seed Bomb and chucked it at the Basculegion. It was stunned but responded with an Ice Fang. Wrath screamed and staggered back himself, limping. 

"You... you will not stop my FURY!"

The Basculegion lunged at him with another Ice Fang, but Wrath dunked another Seed Bomb straight into its jaw. It flopped to the floor. "Nnngh... Victreebel!" said Pavo. 

A Victreebel was sent out, giving an unholy screech. Neon sent out Envy in retaliation. 

"Man, how come I got sent out third?" said the tail head. "I should have been top priorit—"

She was interrupted by a Sludge Bomb from the Victreebel, drenching her in gunk. 

"Okay, that DOES IT!"

She blasted the Victreebel with a Psychic. It screamed, twitched, and fell. 

~How are you so powerful...?~ said Pavo. ~No matter. Eliminate them, Dubwool!" A Dubwool was sent out. Neon responded with Pride. 

"Ha! As if you could best my shining bod!"

The Dubwool responded by attempting to flatten him with a Body Press. "Bah! Take this!"

The Dubwool tried again, but Pride intercepted with a Low Kick. The Dubwool was tripped, and a second Low Kick to its side did it in. 

~How is this possible?~ said Pavo. ~I need to crush you. Talonflame!~

A Talonflame took to the air of the Pokemon Center. Neon responded by sending out Sloth, who yawned. "Can we do this later?"

He was nudged back ever so slightly by the Talonflame's Flare Blitz. "...Fine."

Rocks glowed around him in a Power Gem. They pierced the Talonflame's wings, grounding it as it screeched.

~This is it... My last Pokemon.~ said Pavo. ~Altaria!~

An Altaria was sent out, trilling softly. Neon sent out Lust in response. "Oh, hello, dearie! Shame we had to meet up like this, hmmm?"

~Now you will witness my full power!~ said Pavo. ~Mega Evolve!~

The Altaria was enveloped in a cocoon of light and emerged as a Mega Altaria. 

"...Oh dear," said Lust. 

~Hyper Voice!~

The Altaria blasted Lust with a shrill voice charged with fairy energy. She winced as it rocked her very being.

"You need to cool down, dear."

She fired an Ice Beam that frosted the Altaria's fluff over but left it still floating in the air. 

~Another Hyper Voice!~

The Altaria blasted Lust with her song, and she was barely hanging on. However, she managed to fire one more Ice Beam square at the Altaria's head. 

It went down. 

~No!~ said Pavo. 

They clenched their fist. 

~You have far surpassed me, I admit... You are more than worthy to challenge the Elite Four. Go ahead.~

Neon nodded. He knew he still had to heal his team, and stock up on items, but after that?

It was time. 

...Could he do it? -----------

Neon couldn't believe it. 

Here he was, facing up against Cynthia. Cynthia! Even after beating the Elite Four he wasn't sure how he’d gotten here.

What he did know was he needed a solid strategy. And fast. 

Cynthia had sent out Spiritomb. In response, he sent out Sloth. 

"Zzzzz... Wha, is this the final fight already?"

The Spiritomb screeched and hit him with a Dark Pulse. Sloth barely flinched. 

"Slow down..."

Sloth hit the Spiritomb with a Thunder Wave. The Spiritomb recoiled and thrashed in futility as Sloth followed up with a Power Gem. Cynthia's eyes widened. 

"This is bad... Spiritomb, return! Go, Gastrodon!"

She swapped to her Gastrodon. Neon grinned and swapped to Wrath, who stood tall in the face of an Earthquake. "That tickled! That makes me ANGRY!"

He lobbed a Seed Bomb, taking out the Gastrodon in one hit. Cynthia flinched. "Lucario!"

A Lucario was sent out. Wrath scoffed. "I could beat one of you guys before, I can beat you again!"

He hit the Lucario with a Mach Punch. The Lucario lobbed back with an Aura Sphere, damaging Wrath considerably. "Nnngh..."

Neon quickly recalled Wrath and sent out Gluttony. The Lucario responded with a Dragon Pulse, leaving Gluttony barely hanging on. Neon winced. He’d forgotten Lucario could do that. 

"That tasted terrible!" said Gluttony. "You'll pay!"

He slammed the ground in front of the Lucario with an Earthquake, knocking it out in a flash. "You're pretty good," said Cynthia. "Roserade!"

A Roserade was sent out. Neon paled. He knew he had no good counter to this one.

Wait. Unless... 

He sent out Sloth. He yawned. "Again? I said slow down."

He fired another Thunder Wave. The Roserade flinched at the electric current but lobbed an Energy Ball. Sloth stood tall as Neon used the time to heal his team. 

"This is going nowhere..." said Cynthia. "Milotic!"

A Milotic burst onto the scene. Neon responded with Greed and immediately charged him up with an X Special Attack. Greed grimaced at the Scald sprayed in his face. "Cheap bitch... Watch this!"

He charged up his fur and unleashed a Thunderbolt. The Milotic flailed and flipped over. Cynthia also grimaced as she sent Spiritomb back out... only for it to suffer the same fate. She sent out her Roserade... only for it to topple over from a well-placed Greed Shadow Ball. 

"Haha, yeah! I'm on a roll!" said Greed. 

"This isn't over!" said Cynthia. "Time for my ace... Garchomp!"

A Garchomp roared onto the scene. Neon had to suppress panic. Greed couldn't deal with this. He recalled him and sent out Lust. 

"You need to chill, dearie," said Lust. 

She fired an Ice Beam. However, the Garchomp pulled out a Yache Berry and snarfed it down. The ice coated its body, but only by a fraction. It fired back with an Earthquake, shaking Lust up and heavily damaging her. 

Neon knew he should have counted on that...

He returned Lust and sent out Wrath. 

"She's still not beaten yet? That makes me MADDER!" He swatted the Garchomp with a Mach Punch. The Garchomp held on and hit Wrath with a Poison Jab he barely survived. Neon knew he needed a different strategy and swapped in Envy. 

"Really? I get sent out last?" said the tail head. "Come on."

She blasted the Garchomp with the light of a Dazzling Gleam. The Garchomp recoiled but retaliated with another Earthquake. Neon used the diversion to heal up Lust and send her back out. 

"I told you to chill."

The Garchomp attempted to send out another Earthquake. However, Lust rolled to the side with surprising dexterity and fired another Ice Beam. 

This time the Garchomp fell. 

Cynthia stared in shock. Then she regained her composure and clapped. "Congratulations, Neon. You're our newest Champion."

Neon himself stared in shock for a second. Then, for the first time in a while, Neon's face broke out into a wide smile. 

He had done it. No, they had done it. He and his team had made it. 

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

Neon was on Newmoon Island. He wasn't sure why. He had entered that odd house in Canalave, was lulled asleep, then almost as if he was summoned there. He made his way through the forest, lost, confused. And then he saw it. 

Before him was Darkrai. 

Neon wasn't scared, though. He approached Darkrai, curious. "You. Kid."

Okay, there Neon jumped a little. He wasn't expecting it to speak. "You... don't seem scared. Why?" Neon thought a bit. Then he explained the best he could. "...I see. You've lived through far worse than nightmares, huh?"

Neon nodded. Suddenly a Shaymin ran up to them both. 

"Ah, Persephone, fancy seeing you here," said Darkrai. "I assume this boy is under your protection now."

The Shaymin nodded. "Yes. Yes, he is."

Darkrai nodded back, then turned to Neon. "Listen here, kid. Every day for me is a nightmare. My powers... they were a curse. A curse for misdeeds long, long ago. But you don't have to be the same. You've told me of your pain, of your trauma. But you've moved past it. You stopped this School. You've become Champion. You've still got some baggage to work through. But I'm confident that if you did, your nightmare would finally be over." Neon pondered this for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Now get outta here. Wake up."

----------

And so Neon did, in the same bed he fell asleep in. He got up, got dressed, and set out for a brighter tomorrow. 

+++

[ornii]

Folie à deux

The Madness of Two,

2020, The Grammys.

Your feet pattered the limousine floor as you checked your watch, a slight panic in your face. It was the Grammys this night and with your almost meteoric rise to stardom, this is the first time you’ve felt, Anxious about it. You take a deep breath and relax, slowly letting the world fade around you. It always seems so otherworldly.

It all began with posting a few SoundCloud songs, eventually one blew up and it seems your music name began to make the rounds. Taking that opportunity, you released an album under your name and it spread like Wildfire, big Celebes we’re posting snippets on social media and overnight, you somehow took over the world.

Media deals. Record Labels, Advertisers, all were hounding for you. The next big thing, and it seems it all lead to a climax and here you were. Pulling up to the Grammys, you took a few deep breaths and waited for the door to be opened for you, as your chauffeur did, cameras flashed, cheers and screams were all over the place. You put on a smile and head inside to the main foyer, you were greeted by the obvious managers of said Grammys and was Starstruck by those inside, Multi record winning Artists, people who are considered gods. You were standing with somehow. Your awe was cut off by a voice.

“Mr (L/N)?” They ask, you turn around to a woman with a mic, not a reporter but the woman managing the seating.

“I’m glad you made it safe, if it’s okay with you, you’ll be seated next to Ortega.” She said, you raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Brian Ortega? I didnt know he liked the Grammys.” You say and she chuckles.

“No no, Miss Ortega.” She said; which Just confused you even more, you shrugged.

“Uh, Sure.” You say, you began to mingle, trying to keep up appearances as some of the most influential artists Dawned your presence. Ranging from Movie directors like Spielberg, to Multi Grammy winners like Canadas own, Aubrey Graham, better known as Drake. Ten minutes to countdown you reach your seat and relax. Everyone begins to get ready, and your train of though was on what you would say if you would, could possibly win a Grammy.

“Hey.” A Voice draws your attention and you turn to face it, and your eyes laid upon someone that made the world grind to a halt, all you could see were those beautiful eyes, soft skin and a smile that could make the darkest moments in your life shine like a supernova. and it finally dawned on you, you’re Sitting next to, Jenna Ortega. You remember when Iron Man 3 was released in Theaters, and the Vice Presidents daughter that Tony had to save, that was her! And stuck in the middle! It took moments for you to realize the impact She actually had on you.

“O-oh! Hi!” You day, your voice cracking slightly as you try not to get lost in her eyes. She offers a slight handshake and you take it, not really able to speak.

“Jenna.” She says.

“Y-yeah I’ve seen a lot of your movies I—“ you begin, but stop trying not to sound like a fanboy in front of her. She genuinely smiles at her.

“Thanks. I don’t mean to pry but you are working on more music right? With that much talent you can’t stop right?” She says and you nod.

“Anything for you.” You thought, “Shit that’s creepy why did I say that?! JUST BE COOL.” You think and nod.

“Yeah, didnt think I’d get this far, nice to meet someone my age, makes me less anxious.

“I know, feels kind heavy, doesn’t it?” She says, “All these celebs, kinda feels weird being here.” She says awkwardly. And you build up the courage to utter one sentence.

“It should, you deserve to be here.” You say, it actually catches her off guard and she can only smile and say “Thanks.”, genuinely. You two hush as the ceremony begins. It was fairly uneventful, besides You and Tyler the Creator tweeting memes at each other, before the first set of awards were given, and one of the main four was presented. Best New Artist of the Year, it was heavily contested, Alaina Castillo, Summer Walker, Normani, Giveon. You definitely wanted Giveon, Heartbreak anniversary was your jam. As Keke Palmer took the stage she has the envelope and smiles.

“Good luck.” You hear Jenna say from the side and, that boosts your confidence to levels you couldn’t imagine.

“And the Grammy for Best New Artist goes to… Your Very own! (Y/n) (L/n)!” She says and the crowd explodes, the look of shock was on your face, you rose up being congratulated by many, Jenna claps for you as you approach the stage, still stunned. You take the Grammy with a look of sheer luck and disbelief, you stand there at the Mic and just stand there for a moment.

“Uh- Sorry i had no idea I was gonna be here.” You say and they laugh, you shrug it off.

“Well, I suppose I should say something.. first thing is, well it’s been a crazy year, I went from barley making college payments to buying my parents a new house, cars, anything they could ever want and, it’s all thanks to you all.” Your anxiety was soon filled with sadness and cheers began to bellow.

“You all don’t know how much this means to me, thank you. And, god bless you all.” You raise the Grammy to a rousing applause, you return back to your seat and wipe a few tears. But a tissue was handed to you, but none other than Jenna. You two share a smile and keep the Ceremony going, but I hope you didn’t expect just one.

“Song of The Year! Album of The Year! Record of the Year!” After the third one you hear the song play as you head up with the last one and you take it, and you turn to everyone awkwardly.

“Okay i didnt expect to be up here four times.” You say to more laughter, you try to keep it short and sweet. “Seriously this is becoming a bad trend, I’m just some kid from nowhere, and you all believed in me, and I’m so glad you put your trust in me, in us. My team, my family, my fans, these are all for you.” You hold up the fourth Grammy and as usual it was arousing applause.

Nearing the End of the celebration you walk out of the Grammys with Four, FOUR; in your first appearance there. Two under your arms and to in your hands. You attempt to show them all laughing. But before you can continue you turn around to Jeanna who’s taking pictures of her own and motion her over, to take pictures with you, she rolls her eyes sarcastically as the anxiety and fear washed away to golden confidence. You both pose for the pictures and they flash so desperate for a header and they got one.

“(Y/n) (L/n) and Jenna Ortega? What could this mean for the two blossoming stars?”

[archer3-13]

Fire Emblem Engage: The Four Hounds, Execution and Intent

got past ch23 of engage, gameplay wise its a fun enough chapter using map environmental damage gimmicks in a way that generally works. as you can tell from the title though, thats not why im making this post. I'm making this post because spoiler warning:

this is where the four hounds and the plotlines tied to that whole group basically culminate. id be surprised anyways if anything more comes of them, but at this point i feel confident enough at their part in the story to comment on it.

under the cut

the tl:dr of it all is that the four hounds are a villain quartet idea i love in concept, but find lacking in execution in regards to their place in the story.

but what do i mean by that? well, we'll start by going over the concept of what engage wants the four hounds to be. at the bare minimum the four hounds are our evil quartet/mini group for the game, a timed honored tradition not just in fe but across media of all sorts. in terms of general archetypes we have

zephia: evil sexy female group leader and bosses right hand mauvier: the honorable obviously going to heel turn or die tragically guy griss: the crazy one in it ostensibly for the lols possibly for another reason marni: small bratty child who was duped into it with candy

and if they were just the bare minimum I probably wouldnt have much more to say on the matter, but the game does give them some extra narrative teeth and its something that kinda flew past my head for the majority of the game because it didnt feel that important. we will get to that.

but essentially, ya know how in ch10/11, the snippet of the scene marketing decided to use to tease the four hounds pre release? when zephia notes how the four hounds are 'like a family'? shes not just saying that she literally means that, its their 'unique selling point' so to speak as an evil group. aside from their evil archtypes you can also map them like this

zephia: mommy mauvier: daddy griss: son marni: daughter

and to give the game credit where its due, when that realization did finally hit i'll admit, i appreciated the four hounds and what was going on with them a lot more. the irrational attachment mauvier and marni display to zephia despite how awful of a person she is makes sense, why mauvier is being so weirdly passive about all the things the hounds are doing especially to veyle despite clearly taking issue with it makes sense, why marni wants to go back to the hounds and mauvier fuckin encourages her to go makes sense.

a lot of what im mentioning there is pretty clearly suppose to be irrational behavior taken for emotional reasons of course. the game presents it as such, but it was always the context of why the characters were acting irrationally that got lost. the deathbed clarification between griss and zephia does clear up a lot of that confusion, atleast for me, and brings some interesting weight to previous storybeats. the four hounds are a family, but a clearly dysfunctional one serving a dark god.

and it tracks with what in retrospect are the wider themes of engage, family and what defines the individual in relation to them. veyles struggle for recognition from her father sombron to the point of believing in his lies until forcibly confronted with the truth, veyles evil alter ego being the complete opposite of veyle in every way except in the desire to be sombrons daughter, ivy and hortensia having had a loving father in hyacinth until his obsession with the fell dragon saw him willing to abandon his own daughters for power, alcrysts and diamants father being described as a paradoxical fierce warrior and gentle family man, alears relation to lumera and how they decide to be family by choice instead of family by circumstance etc.

which is why i will ultimantly say that watching griss and zephias death scene chocked me ever so slightly [in that good emotional release way] with griss providing a gentle reprieve in their dying moments, with a genuinely kinda beautiful final shot of their corpses lying next to each other with griss holding on to zephias hand in the end.

how, fucking, ever.

you'll notice how when describing their death cutscene i pretty much exclusively focus on griss leaving zephia out of the descriptor entirely despite the cutscene being just as much about her as griss. and thats because well i can definitely understand and appreciate the concept intellectually

execution is another matter

were introduced to the four hounds fairly early on in engage, over ten chapters before their whole plotline culminates. and right off the bat i'll note that the screen time for these chucklefucks is kinda wasted in a lot of instances. when they do appear in story they usually could just be replaced with bit villains, and i mean that from both a gameplay and story perspective but for this post story is the more important aspect.

so! the distribution and utilization of their screen time is already wonky and uneven. that'd hurt things even if it was executed really well. but, as i said it isn't and i can point to two primary factors in that matter that i feel needed some serious tweaking to get this to work

the interaction of the hounds as a family unit

and zephia herself

so, starting with the easier problem [in my opinion], the hounds and the time they spend interacting. if the idea were suppose to be grasping is that the hounds are like a family unit, if a very fucked up one, then its important that when the hounds are on screen interacting with each other that their interactions always carry a very distinctive family dynamic to them. and this is the first hurdle engage trips over with the hounds because frankly they dont.

dont what? dont interact all that often as a group, dont interact like a family. as stated their screen time is already wonky, but even when the group is all together on screen is very heavily weighted either to zephia talking mad shit, or to evil veyle/veyle interactions. that leads us into the second part of this problem, and its that even when the four hounds are all together interacting they never really feel like a family, even an off brand one. they feel like evil coworkers in an organization brought together as colleagues to do missions as they try and impress their superior for individual merit.

and thats a problem, cause if we are suppose to feel sad for their 'family' when it starts fraying at the edges, when the ideological and moral weight and contradictions of their actions and individual perspectives start clashing and tear the family asunder, suppose to feel bad when mommy and daddy start fighting because mommys an evil bitch who stabbed their daughter, then they need to feel like a family right from the get go and in every interaction and appearance they make.

which brings us to what i would consider the bigger problem. zephia herself. why is she a problem? because shes the biggest impediment outside of screen time and dialogue distribution inn getting this group to work and feel like an actual family. and screen time and dialogue distribution? giving the four hounds room to interact and feel like a family? thats a writing issue sure but a fairly easily fixable one you just have to give and write them more lines of interacting like a family.

zephia however simply does not work character wise as a mother figure for the four hounds family unit. even if you tried to get them to interact more like a family unit youd run into the problem that shes written exclusively as sombrons evil sexy secretary. and yes secretaries can be mothers but thats not the point.

in order to get this idea of the four hounds as a family unit across, and not the facade of one but an actual pseudo sort of family unit that were suppose to feel for as a family unit, then you need to have characters capable of displaying affection and compassion for each other. and zephia just cant do that the way shes written, itd be like trying to write petrine [or aversa really, who zephia shares way more writing dna with] in a domestic family situation. they're both characters that are too outwardly cruel and cold to realistically manage that without feeling either disingenious, as zephia felt the entire time i was playing whenever she mentioned the four hounds as a family unit which is part of why it didnt stick with me at first, or just feeling out of character.

and unfortunately the only way you could practically fix that, is by rewriting zephias character to one that would fit what the story wants to convey. at which point she becomes a different character, just one sharing zephias face.

best solution i can think of is to shift zephia from a aversa type as it were to more of an eremyia type if that makes sense. cause eremyias big thing in the fe12 assassin sub plot is how she outwardly presents the facade of a kindly matron of a church orphanage well underneath shes a cruel and cold taskmaster of an assassin cult for gharnefs objectives. if zephia had at least been somewhat similar, presenting a wholesome motherly facade before letting the teeth out to achieve sombrons objectives, then i feel things would have hit a lot better in regards to the four hounds and their plotlines.

it would make more sense why the group stays together despite the horrific shit they do, it would hit harder when the cracks form, it would be more shocking when marni gets stabbed by zephia, more impactful when mauvier declares his intent to kill zephia, and more heartbreaking when zephia belatedly realizes she wasted her opportunity for a real family of sorts by taking the four hounds for granted and similarly more heartbreaking when griss lets the facade drop for a moment to comfort zephia before passing away himself.

but... they didnt. or atleast it doesnt come across that way in the english translation. and thats why i consider it a really good concept, with poor execution.

[the-kingshound]

The third Arch Deleted Scene

The snippet here is a bit rushed at the beginning and in some other parts, as I did not want to go into even more spoiler territory. If you want to send me asks about this please be sure to advertise them as spoiler at the beginning, since not everyone will want to read them.

SPOILER

TW: blood, injury, poisoning, strong language.

3rd Arch – the seventh Trial

 Your stomach was knotted by dark swirling anxiety from the moment Arthur announced the diplomatic visit. You were familiar with the House, it kept being, after all, one of the most influent beside yours before and after the Emperor’s fall. This did not mean anything, though. Your homeland was beautiful but deadly, ready to swallow anyone whole to quickly digest them.

You promised yourself you were going to be at Arthur’s side at all times, and that’s precisely what you are doing now.

 Four days in, and the only major threat has been the amount of people wanting to interact with you. For the most part, Arthur smoothly deflects them to himself, for which you are endlessly grateful. You’re not in the mood to socialize, instead you keep on high alert, especially against the House leader and formal Ambassador.

You do not think he will pull anything while you’re here, after all you grew up together and you respected each other deeply, but one cannot be too cautious when the King is concerned – as demonstrated by the multiple scars that litter your body. You would go through all of it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping your King safe, but all you can do for now is stay by his side and keep the risks at minimum.

For this reason, when the Ambassador proposes a meal together with both yours and his knights, you are instantly weary.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arthur.”

“Me neither,” agrees Evaine, all the while lazily making their dagger spin on the table.

“I don’t deny that is not an ideal situation. On the other hand, a wrong move on their part would jeopardise their own negotiation,” counters Arthur as Morien finally snaps, blocking Evaine’s wrist with a tight grip and hissing an irritated “stop fooling around, for God’s sake!”

Evaine pouts. Yniol ignores them in favour of the matter at hand “they are certainly going to outnumber us, but if they wanted to attack us head on they would have done so before now, there were better opportunities. MC?”

You really think it through before answering “I wouldn’t put it past the Ambassador to try something, direct or more subtle, while we’re so exposed and out of our physician. Lania is not the head of his House for nothing, but aside from that he was always particularly attached to the Empire. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes” interjects Morien, having by now freed Evaine’s hand and left the table, dismissing themselves from the meeting “I’ll be prepared in any case. I swear you manage to hurt yourselves everywhere we go.”

And so dinner begins. It is a boring affair, but you won’t let yourself relax until it’s over. You sip on your wine, closely inspecting the hosts for any sudden or unusual movement. You find none, but you stiffen and your brows furrows. There’s something strange in your mouth, something strangely… bitter.

Time seems to freeze in front of your eyes. With an uncoordinated, panicked movement you jerk on the table and bat away Arthur’s cup, spilling its content on the table.

You place your hand on the table to support you as you rise, your dilatated pupils numbly fixed on the red liquid that’s quickly staining the tablecloth. It feels like an hour but actually only a second has passed before you regain your senses.

“Seize them.”

Arthur and his Knights are no longer seated by now, but the Ambassador’s men have drawn their weapons as well and pointed them to your delegacy, effectively halting their movements. You see icy red and do not spare another glance at the man now placed on your back while you snarl in the envoy direction.

Placing your fingers on the hilt of your sword, you hiss an enchantment to track the magic residue and the culprit is revealed in front of your eyes. Ignoring the taste of iron on your tongue, you spit out another enchantment and the room’s door is locked close with a lout snap. They will not get away.

Unfortunately, you lack the ability to free Arthur and the Knights, you are now surrounded and painfully outnumbered, but you know they can hold on until you have taken care of the threat at hand. You cough blood and half crash on the floor, but you ignore the alarmed voices of your Knights and crawl in the Ambassador’s direction.

How dare he. How dare.

“My, Lord…”

“Let them,” a voice says to your back “they will not go far.”

“How dare you” your breaths are ragged, your intestines raw and burning, your voice rough for the acid that invades your throat. The Ambassador’s face is a mask of contempt and stony resolution. He watches, halting his men while they try to block you, as you half-crawl to him, gripping with iron strength the wooden chairs to keep yourself upright.

“I have the upper hand, King Arthur. I’m afraid you are in no position to make such demands.”

“Release us, and call a physician for my spouse, and I will consider letting this incident go without consequences.”

Arthur’s voice is steady, calm and there is only a hint of something sharper, at least for now.

You can’t see your King, but the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine. They tried to kill him. The House you grew up to respect is full of nothing more than vile traitors.

As your strength start to waver, you lose your balance and crush to the ground with the chair you were pushing your weight on. Still, you get up again and you and fix your gaze on the second born, now Ambassador and traitor “I’ve had enough of you.”

You take a shuddering breath, your lungs filled with blood that’s now spilling over to your lips as you speak, but the pain you feel is nothing compared to the hot, blinding rage that’s consuming your every thought. Still, your voice is, as ever, cutting cold “you invite us here, offering a pacific discussion, and all you provide are poison in our drinks and weapons against my Knights and my King’s throat. You’ve exhausted my patience, Lania.”

You see him flinch at the use of his name. You remember a time long gone when you played together as kids, swearing you would be the ones to restore the Empire uniting your two Houses. Now these are broken promises and rotten friendships.

“MC,” the Ambassador says, “it’s over, you have to understand that.”

“Oh, you just wait,” interjects Evaine, almost immediately silenced by the Ambassador’s men.

You cough and choke on blood, and you can feel the physical weight of Arthur’s and the Knights’ worried eyes on your back, but you exhale and grip tighter your sword’s hilt. A wave of raw power invades your body and you are able to focus again.

“You know what I’m capable of, what I am willing to do for my King,” your voice is almost devoid of intonation, save for unforgiving hardness. His gaze falls on your non dominant arm and then on your throat, scarred by a thin horizontal line “I will gut you and feed you to my hounds. You’ll die like the backstabbing coward you are.”

They know as well as you do that you don’t make empty promises. There is a rustle around you that culminates in a sharp sigh from the Ambassador and swords pointed at your neck.

“Must we really do this, MC? I cared for you once, but you know that I will not hesitate to strike you down if you give me reason to do so.”

You don’t draw black nor move a single muscle, your eyes find Arthur’s blue ones and you find the King is dangerously immobile, his fingers brushing against Excalibur’s hilt in what could be mistaken for a soothing caress. When he speaks, his voice bears nothing else but firm command “you will not do that.”

Lania cocks his head to the side, appearing quite unbothered “oh?”

“How is your sister, Ambassador?”

At the same time as Lania stills, you blink. A violent cough than shakes your chest, and when your senses are fully back and you can breathe again Arthur has kept going with the same calm, calculated demeanor “I want to remind you that together with the Lord the wedded she’s now head of the Merthian feud, the nearer one to the south-eastern border.”

“What does it-“

“I am the one in control of the knights tasked with their protection. As per the arrangement we signed weeks ago, the border is under Camelot’s defence. But if I die, or if my spouse dies, my knights will retire, Ambassador.”

Oh, Arthur is not King for nothing. He is striking where it hurts the most – family – without even an drop of blood shed. You don’t hide a proud, feral smile at this. Almost immediately, blood invades your throat again, you can feel its taste on your togue, but you shove the pain back where it started in your burning stomach. You shiver. You love and hate seeing your King like this.

Lania swiftly unsheathe a long, curved dagger and you are immediately ready to bolt– swords to your throat be damned, you’ve had worse – but he makes no move in Arthur’s direction for now.

“Figured you had to hit low to get a reaction.”

“Release us,” Yniol commands, standing tall near the King.

“No” spits out Lania, his composure now fully broken “you stole our independence and our pride, Pendragon, you humiliated us and stripped our Houses of the opportunity to unite again. You are every bit of your father’s blood!”

He then turns to you, his eyes frantic, his expression pained and almost feral “I thought you were on my side!”

Blood rushes to your ears, a high-pitched whistle the only thing you’re able to hear at the moment. You feel sick. Sicker than before – sicker than what you’ve felt in years. You spit blood on the floor, your answer is weak and unnaturally subdued, “it was a- a long time ago.”

“We were like siblings!”

You can’t say anything, you only choke on your words. All that you manage to do is keep yourself upright only thanks to your sword.

“They are right, you really are your King’s hound, nothing more than Camelot’s bitch,” he tries the next word in his mouth like they were both foul and inevitable “the haghàn bajek*.”

Your vision is overcome by whit spots, your skin hot and freezing cold.

“Kill them all.”

You force yourself to focus. Protect your Knights. Protect your King.

After that it is pure, unbidden chaos. You tighten your grip on your sword, assessing where you’re needed the most. With the corner of your eye you spot Arthur, he’s a beautiful fighter, he is no match for – Lania.

Your magic flares alongside most of your nerve endings as you sprint in his direction, interjecting his blow with your own weapon. Unfortunately, the Ambassador is a skilled opponent and you’re already considerably weakened, all you can do is channel in your arms the strength of your steel determination to not let him reach your King.

“Stop trying to defend an enemy, MC!”

“Stop trying… to kill him.”

You are barely managing to defend yourself when Lania strikes back. You catch the dagger with your arm, it pierces through your skin just over your elbow but it won’t reach its intended target. No one will hurt your King while you’re still breathing. No one.

Pain paralyzes your arm, your breath is stuck in your throat together with a blood clot that feels intrusive and that fills you with panic. The finishing blow never comes, though. As you inhale again, you refocus on the room’s occupants and notice how Arthur’s Knights have the clear upper hand.

“Ah, and you thought you could beat the Round Table so easily,” Evaine all but purrs in a knight’s ear “that’s precious.”

“Stand down” Gawaine commands “you’re surrounded.”

You can hardly distinguish the shapes of your own knights, you’re nauseous, your stomach and throat are on fire. You fall down on your knees, exhausted and hurt. You feel like you’re going to throw up–

“MC’”

Where is Lania, where is –  

“Wh-where…?”

“Kai, get Morien here, please.”

Arthur’s voice is soothing, as ever, but tainted with worry. You can’t make his face out. There are arms supporting your weight, not his but equally familiar – Yniol?

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

  *haghàn bajek = [REDACTED] traitor

[fanfictionsrookie]

...FUCK

Fuck don’t do this to me.

So Cinder lived in an orphanage for about ten years of her life. Since the beginning she was forced to constantly work under harsh conditions while the other children were free to play and hurt her. So this already gave rise to Cinder’s temper and tendency to lash out when provoked by people of lesser power than those keeping her captive.

And when someone does come around...

A woman who can give her a life she only dreamed of?

Well it turns to be just that, a dream, a fairy tale.

For this woman didn’t want another daughter to begin with. She wanted a servant, The woman does not even consider Cinder as a person who needs something as little as food. Cinder has to go out and ask for these things, and when it is given, it is simply enough to scrape by.

It is at this moment that Cinder realises that her life here, will be no better than the life she lived at the orphanage. It might very well be worse.

But even no, with no options but to do as she is told, Cinder is intrinsically defiant. She is looking for an escape.

Just like her fans, Cinder is forced to live off of crumbs. I’m sorry guys.

But seriously, this just hammers in the fact that Cinder has been taking care of herself, surviving since the beginning. She wouldn’t even dare risk asking for food, which will never be enough, and still get punished for it.

And there he is guys, Cinder’s prince.

Fuck this breaks by heart.

So Cinder has already unlocked her semblance. I’ve said it before, but to me, Cinder’s semblance is the subconscious manifestation or need for emotional warmth that she never got to experience as a child.

And what she got instead was torture. Like this is literal torture. And I can imagine like, just being adopted, Cinder is given this wonderful gift, a new home, a beautiful necklace. Only for it to turn into a cruel means of controlling her.

And this is giving me horrible deja vu.

Fuck me. Rule of three.

This scenes clearly cements the lasting effects of mental and physical abuse, especially when someone never escapes her abusive environment. Cinder presently knows what Salem is doing to her. But it’s something she doesn’t want to face, because of a desperate need to be free.

Just this reaction. This instant reaction of fear and always being on guard.

Cinder’s arc has multiple facets. The realisation that power does not guarantee victory, that hurting others does not heal your own pain, and as we’ll later see, that in doing so, you’ll forever be forced to go on the run. That one should peruse constructive methods in achieving one’s goals.

And what Cinder has always wanted is freedom.

I guessed her to be about 12 in the first snippet in the previous episode, but good grief this is heartbreaking.

Even more so when you realise that through everything, Cinder did look for a positive way out. She wanted to be a huntress. Just stop and think for a minute how different her life could have been. This is what she wanted. Freedom to live her own life, free from anguish.

And by the gods did she work hard for that dream. It’s not just seven years of training and waiting. But seven years of continuous torture.

And the effects of that is showing, slowly but surely the bottled up hatred is showing and she is trying so hard to bottle it up.

Then it happens. Cinder is so close. She has grown up into a beautiful young woman and she is on the verge of fulfilling her dream. Getting a taste of freedom. But, a dream once again.

Then it happens. Cinder is so close. She has grown up into a beautiful young woman and she is on the verge of fulfilling her dream. Getting a taste of freedom. But, a dream once again.

And to what a cruel reality Cinder has woken up to.

Now I would just like to point out fifteen minutes. Not just the fifteen minutes in which Cinder killed her ‘Mother’ and ‘Stepsisters’ but fifteen minutes in which Cinder most likely desperately tried to convince them otherwise and hold onto her goals which is is in her grasp.

Of course, what happens when Cinder is pushed into a corner with no way left to go? She attacks.

Another detail, but again, think how this ‘shock collar’ had Cinder on her knees in the beginning. Not only has she gotten used to it, but she still has the will to fight back.

Now, I very well know that who one becomes is because of who they are and their decisions, but up until this point, Cinder is right, what she is, is what they pushed her to become. What they deluded her into thinking, that the only way to freedom...

...Is to get rid of those who have power over you.

Fuck guys, I wanna cry.

Cinder knows what she did was wrong, she knows it. But she is still holding onto the possibility that everything will be alright now that her abusers are gone.

But then one obstacle turns into another. And at this stage, there is no turning back. At this moment, Cinder will do anything to make sure she isn’t locked into another cage yet again.

Let it be knows that Cinder has always been a crafty fighter. that was has always been her strongest, when she was at her weakest.

Cinder just killed a Huntsman.

The first person to ever care for her. The first person to show her any kindness. Because she was afraid that he’d turn out like all the other’s. And yet, he showed her that kindness up until the very end.

And here’s where is starts, burying her guilt, shutting out her emotions because Cinder finally got the freedom she wanted.

She is free. Her shackles are unbound. But all she can do is run.

Now, I wonder, if volume 1-3 had the same budget, or if CRWBY knew for certain that this was the direction they’d be going, would they have shown these scars on her neck? And are they still there?

Here we are. Back to the present and our view on Cinder is forever changed.

I can only assume that Cinder’s response, the fear of realising where she is after her failure, is because of the effects of her memory. That she hasn’t had the time to slip on that façade of hers. That underneath, Cinder is still a scared little girl.

Despite everything Cinder still has someone, one person who still cares for her and her feelings towards losing Mercury as an ally couldn’t have been clearer. Cinder wants people around her, to care for her. But she has yet to realise that, that means caring for them too.

But what would she know about that? The only prominent ‘caretakers’ in her life has been her ‘Stepmother’ and Salem. And that’s what Cinder is, or is trying to become, even if she doesn’t realise it.

And despite everything...

...Cinder is back where she started. Caught in the cycle of abuse.

Nothing has changed. Cinder swapped one abuser of another. One pair of chains for another.

And she is so close to realising it.

But Salem knows Cinder, she knows how to manipulate and make Cinder think that she is any different from her abuser. And Cinder believes it, or at least she wants to. Cinder wants freedom so bad that she would justify Salem’s abuse as such.

Now this shot.

To me this symbolizes Salem forcing/ manipulating Cinder to trust her. That isn’t Cinder’s hand. Those are the chains that binds Cinder to her. But Cinder still seems them as gifts, and I can only hope that’s she’ll tear it apart.

Another, Cinder’s third possible face off with Penny. Now, how will this go?

Considering Cinder’s recollection of what she learnt from Rhodes, and the Hound backing her up, I would want to belive Cinder will succeed, but CRWBY loves proving me wrong. If Cinder succeeds, then it could act as a further reinforcement that more power is not what she needs. Of course this means Pietro dying to most likely giving his last remaing Aura to Penny, but I very much doubt Penny will lose this fight. But at the same time, this episode feels like a shift in Cinder’s direction, and I’m not even sure to where.

Salem has reaffirmed Cinder’s trust in her, or so it seems, because right now they couldn’t feel further apart. Because of this shift I feel like Cinder would win, but not in the way she expected, perhaps not even by using Salem’s teachings,. But by her own cunning. This could mean blackmail. Cinder’s fear of failure could outweigh her need for the Winter Maiden’s powers, so she somehow tricks Penny, assuming she regains consciousness, into giving her the staff.

 ...

In short, I don’t know what is in store for Cinder.

To me, Cinder would break away from Salem the moment she realises what Salem is doing to her. But that means accepting that she isn’t free. And that is something Cinder is so terrified of that she won’t even consider it. The only way to get Cinder to realise this, is to take away the remaining person at her side, Emerald. Cinder needs to fear something else, more than she fears feeling powerless. But she also needs to realise what true freedom is like.

As for what that looks like for Cinder... I don’t know.

...

But CRWBY has done a fantastic job this episode.

We’ve waited for years and to me, it’s everything I expected, wanted, hoped for and more. This episode truly feels like a new chapter in Cinder’s story.

She might have gone from one abuser, one cage to the second, but we will be waiting for the third time.

For when she finally breaks free.

[ssweeneys]

How do you think Cassie and Nate's dynamic shifted since season one? Cause I went back and rewatched yesterday and like he was so mean to her talking about her and showing her nudes, pretty sure he had them saved on his phone. Very odd. Almost like he was a little obsessed with her. I know season two said he met Maddy first but I think Rue's narration can be a bit skewed sometimes. Idk to me it just seems like he's speaking out of a place of rejection like maybe he tried to get with her and she was like nope. I don't think Nate was ever her type to begin with.

Putting under the cut simply because this got so fucking long lol and I don’t wanna clog up someone’s dashboard with my thoughts being all over the place. 

I wanna start off by saying, I agree that Rue's narration of things is a bit skewed. She's definitely not the most reliable or reputable source for information given that she's an addict (1) and her mental health is not at it's greatest.

I, personally always thought Nate had a thing for Cassie. In the Pilot when he brings up the sextapes to McKay he says that it doesn't matter if he likes her or not because it's irrelevant when McKay calls him out for digging her and then goes on to label her a whore. His attraction to Maddy was, he was led to believe she was a virgin and therefore she was untouched whereas with Cassie because of the emotional abuse and pressure from guys previously, he knew she wasn't. Nate's a very possessive human being. His way of gaining control in an uncontrolled environment is through ownership. It's why he treats women like their property, particularly how he did with Maddy throughout s1 and we get a small glimpse of in s2 when Nate is hounding McKay for info about his interaction with Cassie. Speaking to my boyfriend irl (from a real guy's perspective and he has a tumblr here so he may chime into this but...) some guys, like Nate, seek out those details when they're possessive types because it's a way for them to process it. Nate constantly belittling Cassie in s1 and making fun of McKay's interest in her does somewhat stem from a jealous place. He wanted to get into McKay's head about her and numerous times he succeeded in order to push the two of them away. Same with them at the gas station when he's asking Cassie so many questions and he sort of got into her head too. He's jealous, plain and simple. Cassie symbolizes a life Nate wishes he had, a love that's nontoxic and straight forward and structured. With Maddy it's the complete opposite.

Quote directly from Jacob Elordi about Cassie and Nate:

Sydney's perspective on Cassie's attraction to Nate too:

Keep in mind that everything we've seen thus far is a collection of flashbacks, memories, thoughts and real events. For the sake of storytelling, more elements come to light as necessary. So we really only get snippets of how these relationships started and there could be more to it that we don't know or will be revealed later on. Like with Nate meeting Maddy his sophomore year first before Cassie. For all we know, as Sydney suggests they could've had a flirtationship. There's obviously a familiarity there and these characters know each other. Like you said too, at one point he could've made a move on her and she rejected him.

More on the control thing from Jacob:

“I think he has an issue with control and losing one person would mean losing control of them,” Elordi said. “But I think there’s a much more sensitive side to it as well in that… I don’t know if you’ve ever been in love, but I think that state, you store it in your bones somewhere. I don’t think you ever really let go of that love for somebody.”

“I know as a teenager it’s incredibly hard to let something go. And [Maddy has] also known him through all of his bullshit,” Elordi said. “So I think he’s genuinely torn between loving two people. Which is the kinder way to put it.”

Jacob also says at the end of ep 2 in his interview that Cassie is helping develop Nate's character in a way where it does reveal his softer side. Their scene at the construction site just goes to show there's something about her he can't walk away from. Cassie is definitely more supportive and emotional and could bring out better qualities to Nate. Looking back on s1 there's a lot of hints towards Nassie. The pilot with him having her nudes saved, the carnival where he's questioning her relationship with McKay and Cal points and kinda goes hey, get you a girl like her. Cassie finding out she's pregnant and McKay brushing it off and basically guilt tripping her into getting rid of it. She says to him she didn't want to have a baby but she just wanted to dream about it for a moment. Cut to s2 where second ep, Nate is having dreams of what a life with Cassie could be and look like and how much happier he'd be if he had someone like her. They're very much on the same wavelength, I think and aside from Jacob and Sydney's chemistry, I do think it's fascinating to watch.

People are going to hate it and hate them for it. I get it. But, I do think it's necessary and it will be a learning curve either way. Plus, it offers both characters a lot of character development. How else will they grow if they don't make mistakes? I trust Euphoria. I may not always agree with everyone's actions but I love this show. I love the characters, every one of them and it resonates with me so deeply.

Also, I can be a little bias probably lol just because I've loved the idea of Nate and Cassie since s1. I've crackshipped them, rewrote them in AUs and shipped their faces so... that's just me. I'm not saying I condone what they do, how they do it, etc. It's entertaining and interesting to watch.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

~

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

    “Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky. 

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized. 

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice. 

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best. 

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy. 

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion. 

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam. 

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients. 

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind. 

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead. 

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh. 

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response. 

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best. 

Friends. 

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics.  “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter. 

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

     There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all. 

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders. 

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality. 

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed. 

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well. 

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason. 

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’. 

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix. 

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway. 

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears. 

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again. 

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle. 

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm. 

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist. 

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer. 

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut. 

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table. 

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection. 

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed. 

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass. 

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed. 

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott. 

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves. 

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

     Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension. 

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug. 

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve. 

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful. 

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common. 

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case. 

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in. 

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister. 

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence. 

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting. 

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family. 

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back. 

    The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

     They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman. 

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle. 

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings. 

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up. 

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart. 

     “Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.” 

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded. 

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered. 

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection. 

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it. 

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him. 

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

      Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime. 

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off. 

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness. 

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged. 

     CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting. 

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through. 

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey - 

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel. 

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.       

Steve, 

     Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper. 

This will have to do. 

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man. 

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. 

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache. 

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid. 

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry. 

You deserve to live, Steve. 

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living. 

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be. 

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you. 

With as much love in me, 

    The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.    

     Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two. 

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode. 

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting. 

   The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry. 

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone. 

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White. 

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter. 

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her. 

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.   

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

    It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father. 

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well. 

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?” 

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

    It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat. 

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you. 

     “Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table. 

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more. 

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude. 

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day. 

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently. 

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night. 

     Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves. 

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

     Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look. 

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

     It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom. 

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda. 

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black. 

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue. 

That’s all that matters. 

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all. 

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra. 

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to. 

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems. 

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself. 

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again. 

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister. 

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.” 

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.” 

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.�� The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto  - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity. 

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

     After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door. 

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back. 

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.” 

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind. 

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed. 

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road. 

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece. 

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more. 

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done. 

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield. 

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth. 

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears. 

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you. 

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh. 

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night. 

    After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something. 

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile. 

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday. 

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints. 

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

     Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed. 

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis. 

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it.  “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either. 

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again. 

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday. 

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real. 

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks.  “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always. 

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Episode 1, Surprised to be Dead

Hello, all you hypothetical readers! It's a beautiful spring day and I have a free afternoon ahead of me, so what better time to start another massive project while I guilty stuff my other WIPs deep into the depths of my hard drive? Yeah. Iffy life choices aside, someone mentioned a few weeks back that they'd love for me to recap a show I have more positive things to say about than negative (RIP RWBY) and ever since Netflix announced that their live-action adaptation of Yu Yu Hakusho is in the works, I've been itching for a re-watch of the anime. With the RWBY hiatus underway, it seemed like the perfect time to fulfill both desires.

Before we begin though, I'd like to touch on a few things that are going to influence this project.

First, YYH is near and dear to my heart. Written by Yoshihiro Togashi in the early 1990s and later adapted for an American audience by Funimation, I had the pleasure of experiencing this story five different ways: as a serialized tale in Shonen Jump, a binge read when I had the money to buy the manga, tiny snippets of the anime on Adult Swim late at night — don't tell my parents ;) — as an after-school treat on Toonami, and then years later as a re-watch when I introduced it to a friend (who, in turn, blessed me by having us watch Fullmetal Alchemist next). I used to keep a Hiei bookmark in everything I was reading, the spirit gun made it into our witch-wolf-space adventures on the playground (middle school was wild), and there was a long period of my life where I tried very hard to teach myself to stand with my hands behind my back, precisely as Genkai does. Spoiler alert: I failed. So to say I love the series is... a little bit of an understatement. I bring this up simply as a way of demonstrating that there's more than a bit of nostalgia attached to YYH for me and that will inevitably cloud my reading of it. How can it not? So that's just something to keep in mind as I work through a series that, like any having hit its 30th birthday, has its outdated, flawed, and other questionable aspects.

Second, but very much connected to the first point, is that these are pretty casual recaps. I summarize and extrapolate, focusing primarily on plot and dialogue (but with the occasional cinematography aspect tossed in). I'm not conducting research on the cultural history here — something that will come up at least once in this episode — I'm not arguing an overarching thesis, and I've never been someone who focuses on the author/production/trivia of a series. I'm here for the story as the story is presented to the viewer. If you've read my RWBY Recaps, this will function precisely the same way, with the only difference being I'm engaging with a finished text as opposed to an ongoing one, so there’s a lot less, “Maybe ___ will happen” theorizing going on. 

Third, I obviously recommend that you watch the show yourself (you can find it on YouTube!), but you don't have to know the series to follow along. As these massive paragraphs attest, I tend to be both detailed and verbose, so we'll be covering every major plot point — and most of the smaller ones too.

Finally, I'm working from the dub. I know, I know, the horror. But it's what I grew up on and, honestly, I think it's superior to the sub. YYH's dubbing is in a class all its own and to this day there are very few shows that compare to it. Trust me, it's a good call.

That's enough of the boring chit-chat though. Let's get started!

Our very first episode "Surprised to be Dead" opens on a crowded street. We see lots of traffic, people going about their business, and a pedestrian crossing sign that, crucially, turns red. This is our normality and, like in every genre story, you need to break that normality at some point so that the protagonists can go on their fantastical/supernatural/science fiction journey. YYH eases us into things by first breaking the normality of an everyday afternoon: there's a screech of tires, quick shots of a man pushing a child out of the way of an oncoming car, and then his back is hitting the windshield. We begin this story with a horrible — but otherwise mundane — car crash.

Now, these flashes alone have a fair bit to unpack. Despite later getting a brief shot of the man's scared face right before he's hit, the moment's focus is really on the child. He's the one foregrounded in the initial, slow-mo shot. He's the one who appears in color while the man is kept in shadow. This isn't just a hit, it's a rescue. The camera is also careful to follow the soccer ball this kid was playing with (more on that later in the episode), with it flying through the air as the man is hit and bouncing to a stop in the street, acting as the dramatic finish. It's childhood! It's innocence! It's play on a sunny afternoon! And it's all gone wrong.

This moment is chaotic and even a bit confusing. Not in the sense of what's happening — that is quite obviously a guy being hit by a car — but who the victims are, how precisely this came about, or even why we're meant to care about this beyond a generic capacity to feel for other human (fictional) beings... that's all removed. And it works. As the crash takes place, the camera pans across the stunned crowd and we, the viewer, become a part of that crowd. They don't know what precisely is going on either. We're all just horrified onlookers as a sudden tragedy takes place. We're all watching the same show.

So everyone realizes this guy has been hit. People are staring in shock and someone calls for an ambulance. We see the driver fall to his knees in the street, distraught, shakily saying, "I didn't mean to..." It's a very serious and emotional scene that —

— is immediately tempered by this guy waking up, complete with a cute 'pop!' sound effect when he opens his eyes.

This is YYH's brand, this Very Serious Circumstances skillfully interwoven with casual indifference/comedy. It's admittedly far from a unique brand, but it's an excellent choice given that this is the same attitude that will drive 99% of our protagonist's interaction with the world.

Speaking of said protagonist, our guy wakes up, opens his eyes, and realizes that he's floating. There's a great, disorientating shot from his perspective where everything is upside down, causing him to nearly fall out of the air. Well would you look at that, he's as confused as we are. It's our audience surrogate!

A narrator says, "And so it all begins. This boy's name is Yusuke, he's fourteen years old, and he's supposed to be the hero of this story. But oddly enough, he's dead."

Game of Thrones might have made it popular, but YYH did it better.

(Yeah, yeah, I know one death kick-starts the journey and the other is a shocking twist. Just let me have this.)

Now, it's a weird introduction, right? At least at the end. The announcement that change has occurred, a name, an age... that all checks out. But "supposed to be the hero"? What the hell is that “supposed to” mean? Our narrator gives us the easy, surface answer: "But oddly enough, he's dead." We're capitalizing here on the audience's expectation that death ends a character's journey and though they may have been a hero previously, they can no longer be one moving forward. That function within the story has passed. So it's this intriguing question of, "What kind of hero do you have when that hero is dead from the start?" but as we'll see soon, there's an additional meaning here of, "How can Yusuke be the hero?" As this premiere sets up, Yusuke doesn't act like the hero is “supposed to” act. 

Until he saved this kid.

But right now he's just confused: "Okay, this is weird. Stupid weird."

Two EMTs arrive on the scene and are hilariously useless. You know how in any medical drama a doctor will stop CPR after a couple of seconds because obviously you're not going to spend half the episode on realism? Well, that's this only a thousand times worse. One guy just looks at the kid and announces he's fine except for some bumps and bruises. Meanwhile, the kid is sobbing.

"Well, at least one of them is," replies the other EMT, because I guess he can tell Yusuke is beyond hope without taking a pulse or anything? "I hate cleanup," he complains as they load his body onto a stretcher because that's? An empathetic response to have??

Honestly this scene is wild.

Yusuke is understandably upset that he's, you know, dead and all. He starts hounding the EMTs who, unable to hear him, just go about their business of taking the kid and his body to the hospital. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on? You can't just write me off. Listen to me!" and Yusuke tries to punch one of the EMTs in the head, resulting in him floating right through.

What a great way to introduce your protagonist's personality. We see here that when things go wrong Yusuke's default emotion is anger and it starts creeping in even before he thinks the others are ignoring him: "Stupid weird." He has problems with authority — "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on?" — is used to others listening when he gets angry — "You can't just write me off!" — and is poised to use violence at the slightest provocation. Yusuke is a guy who, right now at least, is ready to punch first and ask questions later.

As Yusuke floats back up into the air and the ambulance drives away, he finally cools down enough to try and think his way out of this. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a jam,” he thinks. Yusuke recalls that yeah, something was different about today...

...he actually went to school.

Catch me laughing that this idiot boy equates the weirdness of him dying with going to school. Good lord. 

Anyway, this jumpstarts our flashback. We open on a generic, anime middle school (that always feels like a high school to me) where the principal is calling for Yusuke through the loud speaker. Oooo someone’s in trouble! We follow a young girl up to the rooftop and she gets a classic hair-blowing-in-the-wind moment to  establish that she's our love interest. Meet Keiko Yukimura.

Keiko finds Yusuke hanging out and immediately starts lecturing him for trying to chew gum and refusing to wear the boys' uniform. "Oh, give me a break, Keiko. I look better in green." Note that it's here we learn her name and it's an easy, casual way to introduce it. I bring this up because Yusuke's introduction via our narrator is very much... not that. It's an on your nose statement about his name, age, and importance to the story, and if you're just starting the show in 2021, it might come across as a rather armature move. Like something out of a kid's show, perhaps. Yet here we see that this was a deliberate choice, considering that YYH is capable of introducing character information naturally when it wants to.

This moment also tells us that Yusuke cares a great deal about his image. More on that in a bit. Because Keiko isn't finished her list of grievances yet, going on to say that his attendance record has hurt their entire class, hurt her as class representative, and if he keeps going down this path he won't even graduate middle school. "Sometimes I think you don't care about anyone but yourself and then you don't even do that right!"

They're legit complaints. Too bad Yusuke is busy looking up Keiko's skirt.

Yeeeeah. Sadly, this is common for anime, particularly a 90s anime like YYH. Even presumably more progressive series like My Hero Academia feature characters like Mineta, whose entire personality is being a pervert, and the creation of abilities that "require" kids/young women to be scantily clad. See: Yaoyorozu. YYH is no different in this regard, with various forms of sexual harassment functioning as a shorthand for how much Yusuke secretly likes Keiko. "Boys will be boys," right? Obviously not. 

Like so many others series, the creators get away with it because they’re framing it as a bad thing. It's totally fine because look, Keiko slaps him! This is  teaching the viewer how wrong this behavior is. Never mind that this is clearly an established habit between them, that Yusuke laughs off Keiko's discomfort, and that the whole scene is meant to be funny for the viewer. That's the real purpose here; it’s not a PSA on harassment. 

That, and to establish the long-suffering love Keiko has for Yusuke in turn, largely stemming from a life-long friendship. "Dumb boy! He hasn't grown up a bit since he was four years old." We see that Keiko's early interactions with Yusuke have given her insight that others lack. As she heads down from the roof she runs into two girls hiding around the corner, too scared to come out lest "the great Urameshi" set his sights on them. Isn't Keiko terrified of what he might do to her? "Or worse, what others might say of it?" Like any classic high school middle school setting, one's reputation is king. Yusuke cares about how others see him — maintaining that tough boy attitude — and the girls care more about what the rest of the school might think of Keiko's interactions with him than the presumed harm Yusuke could do to her. They heard he can summon 2,000 men with just a whistle and that he "kills for fun!" But that means nothing in the face of people talking about you. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, Keiko is the outsider here via her disinterest in what other people think.

The animation changes here, giving us a good look at how the girls picture Yusuke: tough, scowling, surrounded by shadows, and backed by an entire army.

In contrast, we've already seen what Yusuke is really like.

Keiko laughs the image off too. Yusuke is more like a "lamb" than a killer and besides, he couldn't order around two people, let alone two hundred. "He doesn't have many friends."

"That's not what I heard," says one of the girls. 

"Yeah," goes the other. "I think we would know." 

Again, rumors rule here, with whispers in the hall considered more reliable than someone who interacts with Yusuke on a daily basis. Keiko doesn’t have a hope of changing their minds. 

Oh, as a side note, I love that they gave Keiko Miyazaki-esque hair. It's very emotive.

Yusuke escapes outside where the principal is still calling for him to report to his office. He overhears a conversation around the corner and we cut to two boys, one of which is showing a wallet off to the other. He explains that some bully tried to rough him up, but he said he was Urameshi's cousin and the bully took off, dropping his wallet in the process. The guy's friend is impressed, but what is he going to do if Yusuke ever finds out he lied? Not to worry, he says, that "blockhead" would probably think it's true even if he did somehow hear.

Yusuke, obviously, does hear about this and he, also obviously, does not believe this guy is his cousin. He looms ominously and they scurry up against a wall, terrified and offering him the wallet as an apology.

"You think I want your money?" Yusuke yells.

YYH is, in many respects, a rather simple story, but I appreciate the hints of complexity in these otherwise straightforward interactions. It's not that this guy used Yusuke's name to steal a wallet, he used it as a form of protection against another bully — a far more sympathetic motivation. It's not that Yusuke's fearsome reputation has resulted in any genuine respect because once people think they're safe they reveal how little they think of his intelligence — he's a "blockhead." And Yusuke, though intimidating and violent, is not your average, schoolyard bully. He doesn't care about money, only the insult and the damage this guy using his name might have done to his reputation. There's a little more nuance here than you might otherwise expect.

Also, note how dark the boys' standard uniforms are and how much they blend into the rest of the world. Yusuke, as our protagonist, stands out in his bright clothing. He was right, he does look better in green!

So he's ready to clobber this kid when one of the teachers arrive: Mr. Iwamoto.

Iwamoto demands to know what's going on, but the boys are too terrified to rat Yusuke out. Noticing the wallet on the ground, he assumes that Yusuke was after their money, something that greatly offends him: "Whatever!" Iwamoto goes on to say that, "No good weeds like you should have been plucked a long time ago," making it clear that he considers Yusuke a hopeless case. The positive aspects that Keiko sees, as well as the complexity the viewer sees — to say nothing of his introduction of saving a kid — aren’t considered here.

Notably, Iwamoto exists in part to show us what Yusuke could become. Not a teacher (he's obviously not attending school enough for that!), but a cynical man who is cruel for cruelty's sake. Yusuke is already barreling down that path, ignoring Keiko's advice, terrorizing other students, trying to punch EMTs, etc. If his life (or afterlife...) hadn't changed through that accident, this is the kind of person Yusuke might have grown up to be, and we can see that clearly in the visual parallels between them. Dark haired men dressed in green who scowl with ease and toss out cutting insults. Yusuke is staring his future in the face.

For now he walks off with a final shot, "You shouldn't talk. It makes you sound stupid." This time Yusuke makes it to the school's entrance and tries to enjoy his second attempt at chewing gum, but someone hits him in the back of the head.

"Okay, somebody's DEAD — ah. Sorry, old man."

"That's Mr. Takenaka to you."

Our principal has finally left the office and hunted down Yusuke for himself! Putting this interaction immediately after the one with Iwamoto allows the viewer to compare them. Yusuke might be irreverent towards his principal, but it's clear there's still some kind of respect between them. Yusuke only starts threatening because he doesn’t realize who hit him and once he does realize it's Takenaka, he immediately apologizes. That "old man" comes across as a teasing insult and Yusuke allows himself to be briefly dragged back towards school, rather than throwing a now classic punch. In turn, Takenaka cares enough about Yusuke to try and keep him on the straight and narrow. He utilizes Yusuke's preferred language — violence — but in a casual way, nonthreatening way: slight hit to the back of his head, noogie, pulling him along by the ear. 

It's the sort of physicality we're used to seeing in media between a parent and child who are outwardly antagonistic, but actually share a deep bond. Takenaka is also careful to frame their return to his office as a "discussion," not a punishment, and offers Yusuke tea along with the conversation. Whereas Iwamoto considers Yusuke to be a "weed" that should have been plucked from their school long ago, Takenaka is determined to help Yusuke bloom.

If we're continuing the flower metaphor :D

Yusuke isn't in the mood to play along though. He gets away by using a fake ear, startling Takenaka when it unexpectedly pulls free. Yusuke escapes the school grounds and Takenaka, suffering a back twinge from his fall, can't chase after him. Poor guy. I understand that pain lol.

Yusuke heads home where we're introduced to his mother, Atsuko. Most notable in her first shot is the soft lighting that highlights her looks. We're not told how old she is here, but I believe she's around 28 — and she looks it, if not younger. Given that Yusuke is 14, that means Atsuko was a mom at his age. This is a quick and subtle way to tell us about Yusuke's home life. There are more overt details in this scene — it's at least lunchtime and Atsuko hasn't left her bed yet, she demands that Yusuke make her coffee instead of greeting him, it's all meant to imply (before we actually see) that she's an alcoholic — but her age is another way to highlight the broken household here. There's no partner in sight and she clearly had Yusuke as a teenager. He hasn't had a strong parental figure to take care of him. If anything, Yusuke is taking care of Atsuko here.

"Oh great, mother of the year!" basically sums things up.

Atsuko wants to know why Yusuke isn't in school and he says that everyone is pissing him off today, particularly with their preaching. "Dear, if you hate preaching so much you should live on your own... but you can't do that, can you?" Alongside a rough upbringing, Yusuke is suffering from the common problem of being trapped in a dead-end life. He hates his school, his town, and coming home to find his mom hungover. Yusuke has no prospects and, outside of one principal, no one who is actively working to help him find some. Even the little things he hates, like being preached to, are unavoidable because if you want to live on your own, that requires money. Good luck pulling that off as a middle schooler whose only skill is street fighting!

Yusuke walks off in a huff, literally shouting in a street about what a bad day he's having (and hilariously scaring off pedestrians in the process). His shout brings trouble though. A couple guys appear to ambush him, their boss close behind. The music increases the tension, Yusuke's expression is serious, and we even get a Dutch angle thrown into the mix. 

For any who don't know, the Dutch angle is a popular film technique to establish that something is wrong. There's tension in the scene, something uneasy is at play, and the world is now literally off center. It's perhaps most famously used in Do The Right Thing to establish the friction between an Italian-American pizzeria and the predominantly African American neighborhood it's based in.

But it's also used a great deal in horror as a way to say: yup, shit just got real. Scary real.

This Dutch angle introduces a character you may not appreciate at first, but absolutely should: Kazuma Kuwabara.

He's initially the comic relief and that's clear in his introduction. Within seconds we move from that intimidating arrival to, well, seeing him. To be clear, I've got nothing against redheads with big chins, but compared to Yusuke's design, Kuwabara is meant to be the funny looking one. His threat level plummets the moment we get a look at his face, especially in a series that will occasionally use looks as a (supposed) measure of intelligence. 

Also, Kuwabara is dressed in light blue so, like Yusuke, we know he's important!

Any assumptions that his appearance isn’t meant to imply a goofy, embarrassing personality are put to rest when Kuwabara starts rambling about how they last time they fought Yusuke just got a cheap shot in and he'll definitely win this time. Yeah, he won't. Yusuke is thrilled by this diversion though and we get a shot of him looking almost as creepy as Keiko's friends think he is. Whatever else might be said about Yusuke, he is absolutely a monster in a fight.

Which we see here. If anyone picked up the series without knowing this was a fighting anime, they'll realize it now. Yusuke's choreography is stylized to show off his skill: he disappears with a 'whoosh' and dark lines to suggest inhuman speed,

attacking Kuwabara with a knee to the face, utilizes flying kicks, lands perfect, precision punches, and ends it all with the toe-tip landing we've come to expect of all powerful fighters. Kuwabara never even got a hit in. 

Happy as a clam now, Yusuke wanders off whistling and Kuwabara's friends are left to pick up the pieces. AKA, his likely broken bones. I love that they're legit friends though and not just nameless goons for the sake of giving Kuwabara a small gang (though their names won't come up until later). "That makes 0 wins an 156 loses!" one of them cries, trying to get Kuwabara to stop ending up in the hospital, probably. We establish that Kuwabara is The Most Dramatic Ever when he pulls his broken body into a seated position, shouting, "No! I almost had him that time!"

Then he passes out.

Kuwabara, honey, you obviously did not almost have him, but god bless you for the outlook. The most optimistic thing on this Earth is a well-loved Golden Retriever, but Kuwabara comes in at a very close second.

With his dream to one day beat Yusuke in combat established, we cut to Yusuke wandering the street where the episode opened. "Okay, I'm remembering" he says in a voiceover. "After that I met the kid."

The soccer ball reappears as it rolls to a stop at Yusuke's feet. He grabs it and immediately starts yelling at the kid. Horrible protagonist, right? Well, Yusuke is trying to instill in him the danger of using this street as a playground, a worry the viewer already knows is 100% justified. “Listen, kid, that’s dangerous! There are cars going by that will splatter you into the pavement!” It's one of those quick moments where we get to enjoy Yusuke's duality: he's someone who is nearly making a toddler cry, but for rather understandable reasons. He's got the right idea, but needs to go about it in a more mature manner.

Which is precisely what he attempts to do. Sort of. Yusuke changes gears, though whether it's a more "mature" route is certainly up for debate lol. He tries entertaining the kid instead, raising and lowering the soccer ball to reveal goofy faces.

When these fail to impress, Yusuke goes full out by stuffing the ball into his pants, pushing his nose up with a pair of chopsticks he got from god knows where, and generally just putting on a display.

So Yusuke cares very deeply about his reputation... but only when it comes to those who are an established part of his life. Keiko, Mr. Takenaka, and the other kids at school all need to maintain a particular image of Yusuke, one that he's carefully cultivated. But random pedestrians on the street? Who cares about them? Let them talk.

This shows us that Yusuke does indeed have priorities over his own, selfish goals. Namely, the happiness of some kid is more important to him than looking "cool" for a bunch of strangers. Lots of characters with Yusuke's surface attitude would sneer at the idea of degrading themselves for — their words — some brat. But Yusuke, as we constantly see, actually does have that heart of gold. “Well, if all else fails I can still make kids happy.”

Although... I'm not sure what to make of his display itself. I have the distinct sense that there's something prejudiced here that I'm not able to fully articulate, what with the chopsticks, slanted eyes, bald head, and the like, though to be entirely frank I don't have enough knowledge of Japan's history to say precisely what it might be. Or, really, whether it exists at all. Just something to chew on.

What I am sure about though is the importance of having the child label Yusuke as monster — "Yeah, monster! — but in a delighted manner. Yusuke is indeed some kind a monster, someone who disappoints adults and terrifies his classmates, a demon fighter on the streets too, but here that identity is reworked into something positive.

Having successful secured a laugh, Yusuke tells the kid — calmly this time — to go play elsewhere. The toddler stares up at him with the blank expression only kids can manage.

Well, kids and whatever headspace I'm in after writing these metas.

To absolutely no one's surprise except Yusuke's, the kid does not go elsewhere. Instead, he continues kicking the ball down the street, causing Yusuke to exclaim, “Dammit, what’s the use? The kid can get smashed by a car for all I care!” Liar, liar. 

The picture becomes desaturated as the kid kicks the ball and it flies into the street, time slowing down to show it landing precisely in the middle of the road. Yusuke again yells for him to stay put, but when has a toddler ever listened? He begins to walk into the road as our driver arrives, speeding, swerving, and paying more attention to the girl at his side than what's in front of him.

This time, we see the accident from the front with both Yusuke and the kid presented equally.

There's a cut to black and when we return we're in the present, Yusuke floating above the policemen now investigating the scene. “So that’s it? I’m roadkill?” As Yusuke realizes he's dead, specifically that he's a ghost, a voice goes,

"Bingo! Bingo! You win the prize!"

A woman has appeared who is quite obviously othered by the standards of the episode so far. Unlike the greens, blues, and browns of the series' modern clothes, she's dressed in hot pink kimono with blue hair to match. She's also, you know, floating on an oar.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly," she says, referring to Yusuke's revelation that he's dead. Apparently, those who meet unexpected and/or violent ends tend to take some time coming to terms with their demise. It's a nice acknowledgment of Yusuke's intelligence in an interaction that's otherwise... not great for his self-esteem.

Meaning, this woman is about to drag him lol.

She introduces herself as Botan, pilot of the River Styx and guider of souls to the afterlife. You might also know her as the Grim Reaper.

(Hey, RWBY fans: I originally wrote that as Grimm Reaper 🤦‍♀️)

It's an claim Yusuke takes issue with because 1. Botan is too pretty to be the Grim Reaper and 2. If she was really some god of death she'd be taking this much more seriously, not laughing and saying, "Bingo!" For the audience this does two things. First, it acknowledges our own expectations and validates them. Yusuke's world isn't so far removed from our own that he takes Botan's looks and personality at face value, he also expected a skeleton with a scythe. So don't worry, all the weird stuff in this series is weird to our protagonist too. They'll be explanations. Or, even if there’s not, you’re not wrong for being surprised. 

Second, it sets up the very common theme in YYH of undermining those common assumptions again and again and again. We've already seen it with Yusuke, wherein characters who look and act a certain way are, supposedly, destined to be that person and nothing more. Yusuke is meant to be just a "weed," a dumb, violent, angry loser who goes nowhere in life... but we already know he's more than that. Botan is supposed to be scary and serious, but she says nah, I want to be cute and bubbly instead. No character in YYH embodies who they're "supposed" to be when you look past those surface characterizations. They play the part of archetypes — and do keep certain parts of their expected personalities — but they're also far more well-rounded than that. Which yeah, is something most people expect from any story nowadays, but YYH is particularly adept at making you think you're watching Simple Show A only to turn around and surprise you with More Complex Show B.

It's great, trust me.

So Yusuke is pissed that Botan isn't adhering to those expectations, in the same way that he works hard to validate others expectations of him. He doesn't know how to deal with someone challenging his world view yet. Rather than angering Botan though, she just nods and says that this response makes sense for him. “Rather than being scared, or surprised, you yell a lot and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about." Taking out a notebook, she quickly summarizes everything we learned in the flashback — minus Yusuke's complexities: he's fourteen, in middle school, is ill-tempered, violent, hates authority, and is a horrible student.

Typically, Yusuke responds by getting angry and trying to snatch the booklet out of her hands, only for Botan to pull it out of his reach, laughing. The tables have turned! Rather than being surrounded by people who cower at Yusuke's imposed authority, he now finds himself faced with someone who laughs at his transparent attempts to take control of the situation.

Calming down, Yusuke wants to know if the kid he saved is really alright and Botan offers to let him see for himself. That offer produces Yusuke's first, genuine smile.

They fly to the hospital where a doctor is in the process of giving the kid a clean bill of health, his mother crying with relief. 

That's enough for Yusuke. “Alright, Botan, I’ve got no regrets, so you can take me to hell or wherever it is I’m going.”

That tells you all you need to know about Yusuke's self-worth, despite his bad boy attitude. His life is a dead-end as far as he can see and most of those around him haven't done anything to dissuade him of that idea. He says he doesn't care if the kid lives or dies, but then instinctively saves him. Post his death, Yusuke doesn't have anything he considers a regret, or anything he'd like to do before he leaves, like saying goodbye to a loved one. Oh, he's also pretty sure he's going to hell and has resigned himself to that without a fight.

Uplifting!

Botan just laughs though, saying that she's actually here to offer Yusuke an "ordeal" that could bring him back to life. See, he wasn't supposed to die today — let alone die saving a kid — and frankly they don't know what to do with him. It's another neat summary of what we've already learned: Yusuke is a far more complicated case than the afterlife assumed and now, when push comes to shove, deciding whether he belongs in heaven or hell is... muddled.

There's a fantastic story there about the problems with an afterlife that reduces a person's entire life to a few surface characteristics recorded in a book, refusing to acknowledge the context of their situation, or their capacity for change. “Run someone with your credentials a thousand times and they never would have saved a kid like that." Except, of course, Yusuke did save him, so those "credentials" are suspect, to say the least. However, YYH is not a story that explores these issues. Instead, I recommend you watch this!

Rather than being upset at the afterlife's low opinion of him (because let's be real, Yusuke shares it), he latches onto a little detail Botan let slip. If he wasn't supposed to die today... then was the kid?

Mmm... no. Actually, without the chaos of Yusuke jumping into the road, the driver would have swerved at the last second and the kid would have not only lived, but actually come out with one less scrape.

So Yusuke is obviously upset by this news! I would be too!! Holy shit, hang onto the "it's the thought that counts" message with everything you've got.

Also, don't think too much about the fact that the afterlife apparently knows exactly what will happen to people, down to how many cuts they accumulate in an accident. Also, don't think too much about where the afterlife foreseeing the crash begins and the unexpectedness of Yusuke interfering ends. That way lies madness. This will never come up again, so just let it go.

Sorry, 2013 me hijacked the post for a second.

As said, Yusuke is understandably upset by this revelation and as he fumes I'm reminded that this series likes to pull some amazing expressions.

Botan reiterates that it's all fine because Yusuke can come back to life. Weren't you listening? He should feel honored, in fact, considering that an offer like this only arrives every 100 years or so. Well, that explains why all of humanity isn't grappling with people coming back to life on the daily. One person every generation isn't going to cause much of a stir.

However, instead of jumping at the chance Yusuke announces that Botan is just like the teachers at school: she doesn't know what she's talking about. “You said yourself my life was kind of pathetic, right?” he says, going on to explain that everyone will be happier now that he's dead. His school won't have to deal with his behavior, Keiko won't have to nag him, and his mom will be able to party whenever she wants. It's a win-win for everyone involved. 

Hmm, this feels familiar. 

Don't worry, Yusuke doesn't need to experience a whole alternate reality to get the message.

“I’m sorry you feel that way at such an early age," Botan says and she is sorry, because despite her teasing nature that's a legitimately horrifying thing to believe. Yusuke won't budge though and after a little back-and-forth Botan leaves, telling Yusuke he should think it over while visiting his wake. She'll come back once he decides what to do.

“Do you have worms in your ears, lady? I did decide!” but Botan is long gone.

We cut to that night where Yusuke has indeed decided to attend his own wake. Maybe because of Botan's advice, maybe because he's just morbidly curious. We’re not given insight into the decision. 

Atsuko is a mess, to put it mildly, not dressed for the occasion and sitting slumped against the way, staring vacantly as the guests offer their condolences. Yusuke is surprised by the fact that his entire class is here, but quickly writes them off when he sees two of the boys laughing. I'm on the fence about this detail, which I'll unpack in just a second.

First though, Yusuke sees Keiko exiting the house, inconsolable in her grief. She collapses on the ground with her two friends trying to offer comfort, despite the fact that they had nothing good to say about Yusuke himself. Good on them.

Before he can think too long on this though, Yusuke is distracted by Kuwabara's arrival. Unlike Keiko's crying, he expresses his grief through yelling. Specifically, yelling at Yusuke. For dying. For daring to "run away." His own friends are physically holding him back as he charges into the wake, screaming, “Who am I gonna fight now, huh? Who am I gonna fight?" It's not really about the fighting, of course. At least, not the fighting alone. "You’re supposed to be here for me," Kuwabara finishes, the punch he's thrown at Yusuke's photo going limp and catching his first tear.

You know, for all the  goofy expressions, this show really is gorgeous. Just wait until we get to the fight animations.

Kuwabara's reaction is why I hesitate to write off the classmates like Yusuke has. Granted, we have no reason to believe that they care for him as Kuwabara does — they're nameless background characters defined only by their terror of "the great Urameshi" — but it's still a split second taken out of context. We don't know what they were laughing at, or if laughing is a part of their grief. God knows I personally laugh at the most inappropriate moments. If you tell me someone has just died there is a very good chance I will laugh awkwardly as I try to process that. It’s just a reflex. All of which I bring up not because these side characters are important, but because Yusuke's perception of his own worth is. The point of each of these moments is to show that those around him have always cared for him, even if Yusuke didn't notice. It's nice to think that extends to his classmates too. The variety likewise exists to show us how people grieve differently, with Kuwabara's friends not understanding that this is how he's working through the trauma: “This place is for mourning!” He is mourning, even if his way of mourning isn't as socially acceptable as Keiko's. So if screaming and throwing punches is valid, crying is valid, staring stoically in a drunk stupor is valid... why not laughter too?

Not likely, perhaps, but possible.

As an additional possibility to chew on, watching this premier again, it struck me how more emotional Kuwabara's scene is compared to Keiko's. Don't get me wrong, crying and calling Yusuke’s name gets the point across, but it's two seconds of generic grief compared to a much longer scene rife with intensity. When Kuwabara arrives the music swells and everyone is forced to pay attention to him. His grief is loud, violent, and given symbolism with his fist and the photo. There's more effort put into his reaction, frankly, so it wouldn't surprise me if fans started shipping them after this. That grief combined with an "enemies to lovers" possibility is a pretty potent mix. To be clear, Yusuke/Keiko is the (oh so obvious) canonical endgame and in the fandom Yusuke/Kuwabara can't compare to another slash ship that will turn up later, but this is a good example of how writers can craft some Very Gay Scenes without realizing it. When you have the girl crying prettily for a second and the guy absolutely losing his mind over Yusuke's death, questioning his purpose now, his support network, and then collapsing in grief... don't be surprised if your audience goes, "Oh hey, maybe they'd be a good couple instead."

But I digress.

The only people who are unquestioningly happy about Yusuke's passing are Mr. Iwamoto and his co-conspirator, Mr. Akashi. You know Akashi is another bad guy because he has bucked teeth and "ugliness" is an easy way to code for evilness. YYH is not immune to those mistakes :/

These two are really something else though, standing in the middle of a wake and claiming it's “too bad that car wasn’t big enough for them too," referring to Kuwabara and his friends. Wow! What stellar members of the academic community. Iwamoto goes on to say that Yusuke dying at least accomplished something good. Not, mind you, saving the life of a child, but rather looking good for their school's reputation. Akashi agrees, but says it's likely Yusuke only accidentally saved him while trying to steal the kid's lunch money. Remember, that accusation of theft is the one thing Yusuke has said outright that he does not do.

He's pissed listening to all this — wouldn't you be? — but knows by now he can't do anything about it. In another fantastic shot, Yusuke hovers his hand over Iwamoto's shoulder, desperate to grab him, when Takenaka's arrives there instead.

“What do you suppose is more disgraceful? That boy showing his misery, or your insensitive and idiotic words!”

HELL YEAH. You tell 'em, Mr. Takenaka.

Yusuke gets his third shock of the night at this passionate defense. Takenaka leaves the teachers to go pay his respects, but admits to Yusuke's picture that he just can't speak well of him. He was surprised to hear that Yusuke gave up his life for another and it's a fact that he acted selfishly. Though he doesn't say it in as many words, Takenaka explains that he's not grieving because Yusuke was a good person, but because it's so clear to him that he might have been. “Why didn’t you stay? You could have made something great out of yourself.”

Normally, "Why didn't you stay?" is just something for the living to grapple with, as the dead obviously don't have any say in what happens to them. But Yusuke does. It's here that the lighting grows soft again and Yusuke considers Takenaka's words. Keiko and Kuwabara grieve for who he was, but Takenaka grieves for who Yusuke could have been — someone that might still exist if Yusuke decides to undergo this ordeal.

Atsuko adds fuel to the emotional fire, breaking down and hiding her face in her knees.

Finally, the kid Yusuke saved arrives with his mother. Because yes, Yusuke saved him in every way that matters, considering no one else knows — or will know — that he'd have lived anyway. I like that the show doesn't allow that knowledge to undermine the emotion of their arrival, or what Yusuke’s act meant to them. 

The mom tells her son to pay his respects and the kid thanks Yusuke for saving him, and for "making faces." He clearly doesn't get what's going on here. This is confirmed as the two leave and he asks his mom if he can play with Yusuke again tomorrow. “I know some people sounded angry at him, but he’s really nice!" 

They're probably just crying because they want to play with him too, he thinks, which just makes his mom join in. Everyone is crying in this club tonight.

Those words are the cincher for Yusuke and with a brief montage of all the grief he's witnessed, he makes his decision.

We cut to later that night where Yusuke floats above the city, admiring the moon. Botan reappears and he asks, “Have you ever not known about something that seemed obvious to everyone else?” Yes, everyone has experienced that at one point or another. She asks if he's made his decision and Yusuke agrees to try and come back to life.

Emotional revelations out of the way, we're allowed another tone shift as Botan yells with joy, speeding off and causing Yusuke to grab hold of the end of her oar, lest he be left behind. Cranky as always, he demands to know where they're going. "To the spirit world, of course!" They're off to see someone who can explain the ordeal and give Yusuke the tool needed to complete it. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Thus ends our very first episode! Ah, the nostalgia. This is part one of a four arc series, with the anime cutting out a lot of the filler stories found at the start of the manga — a smart decision, I think. They primarily do the work of teaching Yusuke what he learned at the wake, so if you can accomplish that as quickly as the adaptation did, all the better. Especially since Yusuke needs to grow a great deal beyond the basic understanding that people might, sort of care for him, and that work will occur primarily through a job he's going to take on. The series isn't really about his death and it's not about an attempt to come back either — it's about what happens once you get that second chance. So this is the setup, but it's important setup all the same.

No need to skip ahead though. I've blathered enough for one recap. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when the writing gods next bless me with energy! 💜