#and maybe you both feel guilty for finding that connection in your shared grief but you know that the person you both lost

[anachronistic-falsehood]

waittttttt hang on. what if i wrote. a trimax oneshot abt vash and livio. what then. hmm. what then

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Three

Part One, Part Two -- Chrono

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

The house they’ve acquired has two bedrooms. They only use one.

(There’d been panic, that first night, waking up alone. He’d shaken and gasped and felt his heart beat out of his chest, unable to move until something gave. Nothing did.)

(The General had felt it, had woken up from Rex’s own panic and rushed in to remind him that he still had someone left, and Rex had snapped out of his fear and into his grief.)

(He’d bottled it back up by morning, but they didn’t sleep apart anymore.)

The bed is big enough for two people to sleep apart, if with an unfortunate tendency to smack hands across faces in one’s sleep. There’s room on the floor for the crib, and a desk in the corner that neither of them have used yet. The armoire that the house came with is beautifully crafted, but empty save for Anakin’s outer robe. What little they’ve bought so far has been for the twins, and that’s all sorted with military precision into the drawer chest.

It’s nearly first light when one of the twins start fussing. Rex had been ready to wake up anyway, and rolls out of bed before Anakin can fully come out of drowsing. He makes his way over to the shared crib, finds that it’s Leia making noise, and picks her up.

“Buir’s got you,” he mutters, carefully bouncing her as he makes his way back to the bed. He hopes, however futile it may be, that Luke won’t hear her across the room.

“Rex?” Anakin mutters, fighting his way awake.

“Go back to sleep, General, I’ve got this,” Rex tells him.

Anakin ignores him, which is patently unsurprising. The man leverages himself up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Give ‘er here.”

“General, I’ve got it,” Rex insists. “Go back to sleep.”

His general scoots back to lean against the headboard and starts tugging open his sleep shirt. “It’s been a week, Captain.”

Oh. That.

...his chest does look swollen. Rex hesitates to call them anything approaching ‘breasts,’ especially since Anakin had confirmed that he still identified as undeniably male, but there’s definitely some bulge there that wasn’t before. It’s not quite enough for the nipple to point down the way Rex is pretty sure most breastfeeding mothers’ do, but there’s something.

Rex hesitates. “Do you feel... uh, full?”

Anakin smiles, bags under his eyes. He reaches out for his daughter. “Enough to give it a try.”

When Leia is in his arms, Anakin carefully guides her little head to where she can latch on to one side. It’s a little awkward, given the aforementioned lack of heft making it point out instead of down, but she gets the hang of it after a few seconds. Anakin makes a face once the suckling starts in earnest, but rubs at Leia’s head and mutters encouragement at her nonetheless.

“Feels weird?” Rex asks, shifting back until he can lean against the headboard as well, shoulder to shoulder with his general.

“Yeah, kinda,” Anakin says. “Good weird, though. Like I’m doing something right.”

“The pamphlet mentioned that breastfeeding usually releases hormones in both the parent and child to encourage connection, right?” Rex paraphrases. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Yeah,” Anakin says.

Rex watches the man start to smile softly, an expression that’s been damned rare since this whole mess started. He’s happy for his general to find happiness in his children, if nothing else.

“You called yourself buir,” Anakin says softly, adjusting Leia a little as she hits at his chest a little. “Good.”

“You said I was family for them,” Rex says. He reaches out and brushes a finger over Leia’s cheek. He can’t help his little smile anymore than Anakin could. “So, yeah, I’m going to encourage that.”

There’s little noises coming from the crib again, soon after. Rex gets up and fetches Luke, whispers nonsense comfort at him until he gets back in the bed, and then glances at Anakin’s chest with doubt. The meaning is clear enough.

“Leia’s almost done, and they’re small,” Anakin assures him. “I can hold both. They’ll probably need a bottle later, though.”

“Not enough production capacity?”

“I’ve got twins, Rex.”

They get Luke settled easily enough, and then a few minutes later, Leia’s done.

Anakin doesn’t pass her back over immediately, just stares down, unfocused and silent.

“Sir?”

Anakin doesn’t budge.

Rex hopes this is just Force osik again. He puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and squeezes.

The man inhales sharply, eyes watering. “Oh.”

“General.”

“I--a vision. I don’t usually get them when I’m awake, and--oh, honey, you are going to look so much like your mother,” Anakin whispers, staring at Leia with teary adoration. “You’re going to be lovely as the stars and twice as dangerous, yes you are.”

Good things, then. They’ve had too much bad news for Rex to take this as anything other than a positive. He reaches out with both hands, and Anakin reluctantly hands a baby over.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rex tells her, and feels Anakin hitch a wet laugh next to him. “Do you think we should let your Papa rest? I do. Let’s get you dressed for the day while he finishes up with your brother.”

“Papa?” Anakin asks wryly, adjusting Luke in his arms.

“Easier for them to say the first few years, and I liked the way it sounded when you said it a few days ago,” Rex says, shifting to his feet. “That or ‘Daddy,’ but I figured she looks like the type to say Papa.”

“Hm,” Anakin says, his eyes far away. “I guess there wasn’t... I didn’t spend much time in the creche, and nobody was really calling anyone a father.”

“Tubies,” Rex says, but doesn’t elaborate. He focuses on changing Leia into a lavender onesie, and how she glares up at him as fiercely as a rancor. Here and now, trooper. There’s lives counting on you.

“You want to change Luke while I handle breakfast?” Anakin asks, coming up behind him on too-quiet feet.

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Rex says. He feels a hand on his elbow, and turns a shade.

“I’m stable, now,” Anakin says, quiet and guilty. “I can handle the twins for the day. Mourn your brothers, Captain.”

“I’m...” he isn’t sure how. “We need to figure out money, how we’re going to support--”

“Rex,” Anakin says, stepping closer and looking down with eyes that are just as emotionally exhausted as Rex feels. “Please. You handled things while I was out of it, so just... let me return the favor. I’m not going to break today. Let yourself have a moment.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“I could make it an order,” Anakin says quietly. “If... if that would help.”

Rex’s eyes stay fixed on his hands, still and unseeing.

“I need to repaint my armor,” he says, because it’s all he can. “But I don’t have paint.”

“What color do you need?” Anakin asks.

“Grey,” he says. “Black.”

He brushes the backs of his knuckles on Leia’s cheeks. “I’ll... keep some of the blue and white.”

The plastoid would get him laughed out of any Mandalorian bar, even now before the clone armies are a twinkle in anyone’s eye, but it’s his. And he needs to have it mean something more than just his legion. The 501st doesn’t even exist, so the colors only mean what the Mandalorians say, and--and what meaning Rex gives them.

He’s not even Mando’ade, not really.

“Rex?”

“Would you be willing to go into town with me?” Rex asks, his voice catching and cracking on the words. “When I buy the paint.”

“Of course,” Anakin says. “Do you want to go today?”

“I... yeah. That would be nice.”

“Then we’ll go today. After breakfast.”

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

Armor colors and meanings for Mandalorians, per Wookiepedia: Gray=Mourning a Lost Love (which I am interpreting as including non-romantic love) Black=Justice Blue=Reliability White= A New Start

[thebigqueer]

Ok, here we go. Dark!Bianca idea. Shortly after the events in the desert, a severely injured Bianca is found by agents of the Titans who were shadowing the quest party off-page. She is brought back to Titan HQ and is convinced to join their crusade against the gods while her friends and family think she's dead. Jump ahead to BotL, instead of Kelli the Empousa, it is a mysterious masked assassin who attacks Percy and Rachel at Goode. The events mostly play out unchanged until Geryon's (1/8)

ranch, where instead of Bianca, it is the ghost of Maria di Angelo who is revealed to be sending Iris messages to Percy about Nico, while also strongly hinting that Bianca's still alive. Jump ahead to Mt St. Helens, Percy fights the assassin again, and during his stint on Ogygia, Percy begins to put two and two together after the assassin demonstrated skills similar to the Hunters. At Antaeus' Arena, the assassin is finally unmasked to reveal a still-alive but scarred Bianca, replacing (2/8)

Ethan Nakamura as the demigod enforcer. Percy is convinced that Bianca is being mind-controlled and goes to Mt Tam to rescue her as well as stop Kronos. However, when he confronts her, Bianca reveals that she's operating of her own free will, feeling vengeful against the gods for robbing her of her life and having pledged her loyalty to her new Titan master. Kronos intends to make Bianca the prophesy kid, promising her the free will she craves so badly as well as promising not to hurt (3/8)

Nico. Going into the Last Olympian, Percy and Nico are both determined to convince Bianca that she's making a mistake, and this time Nico's duplicity is not to simply learn about his mother but to try and summon her spirit to get through to Bianca. At the same time, Kronos gradually starts treating Bianca as less of an ally and more of a tool, and the Titans' actions cause her to have doubts even though she dosen't know what else to do. It all comes to a head in the final battle.(4/8)

Nico returns from the Underworld by himself early, giving Hades an ultimatum to come and fight or hide. Just before the final attack, Kronos sends Bianca to infiltrate Olympus to disable the magic defenses, but Nico arrives to intercept her and make one last bid to save her. They fight, with both begging the other to stand down even as they slug it out. Finally, just as Percy arrives to chase Kronos, the battered siblings' duel ends when Nico gives another ultimatum. He throws down his (5/8)

sword and gives Bianca, now reduced to fear and frustration-induced tears, the choice between perusing her grudge and allowing herself to continue being Kronos’s slave or doing the right thing. Finally able to make a legitimate choice of her own, Bianca chooses to turn her back on the Titans. She still ends up wounded, but unlike Ethan in canon, Nico manages to save his sister while Percy and Kronos have their final battle. After everything ends, Percy petitions for Bianca’s pardon along (6/8)

with the rest of his list, though Bianca turns it down, realizing the harm she almost caused to the person she loved more than anybody else. She is given a reduced sentence in service to her father, and though she does not properly forgive any of the gods that hurt her, she does recognize that the spite and anger she felt would only lead to more death. Nico gets to visit her occasionally, and she starts a road to redemption that Luke never got the chance to take. In HoO, Bianca is (7/8)

more of a background character, but it is she that finds Hazel in Asphodel and alerts Nico to her. Overall, dark!Bianca is an anti-villain who’s affiliation with Kronos is clearly drawn from her pain and grief over the gods’ interference in her life, but her saving grace is her brother. Nico manages to pull her out of the darkness and save her from becoming the same monster Luke became. What do you think? (bear in mind, this is my rough draft) (8/8)

Okay, WOW. Anon, I am actually going to start a petition to make you the new Percy Jackson author because that was such an interesting plot to read.

First of all, I love that you replaced Bianca with Ethan. As interesting as he was in the series, and as much as I loved his character, after reading through your rough draft, I feel like Bianca would have been a much better character to use throughout PJO. Her arc could have been expanded upon and completed thoroughly, and it could have made a lot of sense. Ethan felt more like a representation of "demigods turned to the other side," which I get is the point, but I loved the way you used Bianca because with your plot, her character could have been used so well to properly show how easily the Titan army manipulated kids.

Furthermore, I feel like your plot with Bianca could have been a much better way to use her character throughout the series. From my interpretation, in canon she seemed more like a stand-in tool just to enhance Nico's own character arc and his motives, but your plot for her would have actually given her some kind of foundation and an actual arc for her to go through. You've given her such an interesting character and I think it really provides more justice to what she could have been.

I also love the way that not only did you give her a better arc, but you also enhanced Nico's own arc and the plot, too. Her death in the books seemed more symbolic to him and a turning point in his character, but with her character in your AU, it's both important to Nico and Bianca. You've given her an actual character, and you've set up such an interesting conflict between Nico and Bianca.

Additionally, I love the divide you've created between them. I think that - based on what we know about her in the books - as much as she loves her brother, Bianca also feels very limited with him because of how she's been forced to grow up and be his savior. She understands that he's only a child, though, which I think could also play into her own hatred for the gods - they've not only destroyed her family, but now they're forcing her to take the role of an adult when she's a mere child, too? She was never angry at Nico - she was only ever mad with the gods.

Maybe that's something that Nico also feels bad about, and maybe he tells her about it when they're standing each other down. Maybe she lets him know that she never hated him or felt that he was bringing her down.

Also, I want to add that I adore the way you put them on opposite sides. It sets up such an interesting dynamic to their relationship because here you have two people who love each other so much, but they're on two different sides of a large war. They're both too stubborn to go onto each other's sides, and Nico knows Bianca's only going to get herself into more danger. I just love the potential that has for both of their characters.

I know Percy had a large fear about Nico being another kid to join Kronos' army, so I bet Bianca being on his team would have left Percy incredibly terrified for Nico, too, because he knew how much Nico loved Bianca. Would he have been nervous for Nico's ability to change his mind? Nico knows he'd never join Kronos, but would Percy have known?

And, knowing that Bianca's now on the Kronos side, how would Percy react? Because he felt pretty guilty about her death in TTC, right? Would he feel guilty that she's on the other side now, too? Would he try to reason with her, only to push her further away? I'd love to see how Percy would deal with knowing that Bianca - an important child of the Big Three - would react to her being there. He was already nervous about Nico joining sides, but having Bianca there would have really scared him.

And the part about Bianca finding Hazel instead of Nico? That was mind-blowing. I love everything about that situation because now that introduces Hazel into the narrative of Nico and Bianca's story. My question for you would be how does Hazel's character change now? How does she fit in with Nico and Bianca? Because in Heroes of Olympus she's clearly very insecure about her relationship with Nico and how he views her, but if she actually knew Bianca, how would she feel? Would she feel more left out (knowing that Bianca and Nico have known each other much longer and have a stronger connection with each other)? Would she be distrustful? And how would the three of them adapt to this additional family member? I have high hopes that by the end they would all love each other very much, but I'm just really curious into how Hazel's addition would influence the dynamic of all three.

And, essentially, it all ends into a somewhat win-win situation. Bianca's still living; Nico's got two new sisters; Hazel now has a new family.

I think this is such an interesting concept, and I'd love to read it. If you ever post it anywhere, please do share the link! This was such an intriguing plot to go through and, again, I think this could have been a much better use of Bianca's character.

Thank you so much for sharing it with me.

[mthvn]

Post-”Chaos Theory”: A Conversation with Flavia Dzodan and Metahaven

Metahaven Flavia, we've been talking about the Chaos Theory script even before the pandemic started. At the time it was a way of finding a voice (as every script is). Our friendship and collaborations have been major encouragements in completing the film the way it did. What do you think about the film now that you've watched it?

Flavia Dzodan I loved it! Chaos Theory made me think of some of Alexander Kluge's ideas about the artist as a seismographer, someone who anticipates what's to come through subtle, almost imperceptible changes on the ground. At the same time, Kluge talks about the artist as someone whose reactions are observed (like one observes a seismographer) to anticipate what is to come. In that sense, I see Chaos Theory as presenting us with a potential future, where the interdependencies are not merely acknowledged but central to the way we relate to one another and to our surroundings and ecosystems. I see the relationships in the film as not just from human to human but also in relation to the outside. To me, this is a film made of textures and invocations, a film about love yes but also about the kind of future we want to build.

Metahaven We've often talked about Tenet (Christoper Nolan, 2020) and its many quirks and features, including the female lead who, whenever it is announced that the entire world population will die, exclaims in despair: "AND MY SON!" Any thoughts? :)

Flavia Dzodan I've been thinking a lot lately about how narrating can often be a distraction from "feeling things." What I mean is that films are sometimes very preoccupied with the narration (i.e., telling a story) but such narration operates as a way to avoid dealing with the emotions or the feelings themselves. Since "feeling" is passé, sincerity has practically become an artefact or a curiosity rather than part of the process of telling a story. I do not think that Tenet is guilty of "ironic detachment"-that would maybe make the film interesting (or at least slightly funnier)-but instead, I believe Tenet is the guy at the bar who takes himself so seriously and will explain to you all the ways in which he is smarter than you. That's what makes Tenet tedious and stuffy and quite honestly, devoid of any kind of emotion. There was a point in the film when I was wishing for this supposed apocalypse to finally take place so that we could be free to go and do something else. I'd love to see Nolan attempt to make a comedy, something that doesn't need to constantly remind us how smart he is. Maybe Nolan shouldn't be so worried about saving the patriarchy via "BUT MY SON!" and instead should worry more about coherent storytelling that doesn't require a dozen forum posts to be understood. Who has time for that kind of sleuthing these days?  

In a lot of ways, and I think I've said this to you, I see Chaos Theory as a sort of anti-Tenet manifesto. Not only because there is no son to save from the end of the world but also because Chaos Theory is not structured as a narration to distract from emotions. On the contrary, Chaos Theory lunges at the sentimentality with a refreshing shamelessness. I am sure some might see this as a weakness but at a time when we mourn collective losses counted in the millions, I celebrate emotional sincerity as the only worthy form of engagement. I refuse to continue this pretension that we are objective creatures imbued by rational thinking. Capitalism and, specifically the neoliberal administration of life which is so dependent on budgets and accountancy practices, benefits from our emotional detachment: if we remain cool and ironically detached in the presence of suffering and cruelty, we are less reactive to injustice. Instead, I advocate for a radical sentimentalism that forces us to deal with the immense grief of this collective loss. I need more art that makes me cry rather than art that makes me shrug.

Metahaven What can be redeemed about emotion-and even about sentimentality-in the face of its constant use by conservative agendas?

Flavia Dzodan I don't know if "redeem" is the word I'd use. I believe it's worth making a distinction: not all sentimentality is created equal or is identical (even if the appeal to emotion might a priori appear to be so). Emotions can be evoked to connect us to one another, drawing out our best qualities. They can also be evoked to alienate and exacerbate exclusion. I'd be wary of condemning sentimentality as a whole just because conservatives made better use of its potential. In fact, I'd rather wonder why the more progressive or leftist side of the spectrum decided to eschew emotion and instead, attempt to appeal to a faux neutrality or detachment that are not even such. The problem is not "feeling things," the problem is how those feelings can be manipulated for a political end that is not inclusive or even caring but rather divisive and cruel. Just as much as the right can evoke rancid nationalistic sentiments, we should be able to remind ourselves that shared emotions are what connect us to one another.

Metahaven "The music that you heard, the poetry that soaked your soul, it is in no way ornamental. It is in no way decorative. It ought to be constitutive of who you are," Cornel West has said. How do you feel about these words?

Flavia Dzodan Again, I need to go back to this notion of humans as creatures guided by emotions. Poetry, music, beauty itself, then not as entertainment or distractions but as the core of who and what we are.

--- Amsterdam, July 1, 2021 This conversation was previously published on the Instagram profile of Boilerroom 4:3 It refers to the film work Chaos Theory, Metahaven, 2021

--- Flavia Dzodan is a writer, media analyst and cultural critic based in Amsterdam. She is a senior researcher and lecturer at Sandberg Instituut. Her research focuses on the politics of artificial intelligence and algorithms at the intersections of colonialism, race, and gender. In her research Dzodan examines the ways in which technology is created and deployed to reproduce historical patterns of social control. Her current research about beauty and ethics attempt to understand how cultural analysis may operate vis-a-vis semiotic codes, particularly in regards to teaching machines to identify highly subjective and culturally dependent ontologies such as those surrounding fashion and art. This work is a continuation of her previous research about "the coloniality of the algorithm," which situated Linnaean taxonomies at the heart of both colonial history and contemporary uses of technology. Dzodan is interested in ephemeral forms of publishing: she is the editor of the intermittent blog This Political Woman, where she has written about the rise of the alt-right, Big Data, networks, algorithms and community surveillance. Her work was published at Dissent, The Guardian, and The Washington Post, among others.

[bookwyrminspiration]

So. Chapter 11. I have many thoughts.

First things first, absolutely amazing, every interaction the characters had felt so natural and fit together so well, and gosh I just...do not have the words to describe how much I adore your writing.

Now time for what I'm here for: you've got me all fired up again! It's been quite a hell of a while since I've done any real theory or predictions, so I might be slightly out of practice, forgive me if I get any details wrong!

And I don’t really know what all of it means yet, but let’s try to get the simple facts laid out first:

Bronte and Oralie send cryptic messages.

Sophie finds a dragon scale in a random desk.

Linh has a connection to the dragons, like Marella.

Dragons are connected with thunderstorms.

So, are we getting dragon!Linh? Because I am so here for dragon!Linh. At the very least, there’s some connection between them. But there’s…something else.

So, the messages from Oralie and Bronte are absurdly cryptic, and that’s so fucking cool and I love it, but I really really want to dig into what they’re saying now. So that’s what I’m gonna do!

Bronte’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. It takes a special someone to see the darkness in the world and not participate. Your infectious light is spreading.

Oralie’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. Play a melody for me, and tell me what it says. History will have something sweet to say about you.

And you (via Sophie) put a special focus on the words “infectious light” and “history”.

And I will eat my boots if that is not connected to some grand underlying secret underneath the entire story. Now, given that these two are Councillors and have access to confidential files, and Bronte as old as dirt, and the focus on the word history, I’m willing to bet there’s some dark secret within elven history (shocker, I know) that somehow relates to all this monster business. Cause like…it’s hard to make monsters! It’s crazy that the Neverseen and whatever the new group is called have managed to make so many!

(And I haven't figure out the Secrecy and Redundancy part yet, but I will tell you when I think I may have understood it.)

And what’s even weirder is how easy it was for Sophie and the rest of the kids to develop specific monster traits instead of just. Literally dying. And from weird potion mist, too.

Is there something about elves that allows them to turn into monsters? We know the monsters are unnatural, and when I’ve brought up the idea that elves are being turned into monsters you haven’t really denied or confirmed it, just kind of skirted around the topic. And this could also be the reason the humans haven’t been attacked by the monsters- the monsters are made of elves because elves are…somehow compatible with whatever the Neverseen are doing, and they attack other mythical creatures because I’m assuming they share traits similar enough to elves that the monsters have an interest in them.

But it’s also weird how Bronte’s letter (while actually being kind of a compliment, which I find so funny because it absolutely does not read like it, 100/10 characterization points) implies Sophie is spreading something, something infectious, and I’m sure the usage of the word “light” isn’t coincidence either.

Light is really important to elves, like really important, and it doesn’t seem like something Bronte would say, either, what with his…seeming respect for it (from how he acted when at the Point of Purity and journey back). He’d more likely say something like “bravery” or “strength”, given that (iirc) he’s even used those words to describe Sophie before. So there’s something about the word light specifically that was important, and something about the light being infectous.

And now, elves are living underground. And the monsters were said to appear out of nowhere, too, just…out of the blue. Are the Neverseen using the light to create more monsters? What are the monsters for? Can they turn whatever they’re doing off? Are the Council somehow aware of what the Neverseen is doing because they have access to lots of knowledge the main crew don’t, and that’s part of why they fled underground?

And what’s the connection with the dragons?

(I nearly forgot about the dragons.)

From what you’ve posted, you seem to really enjoy the part of dragons that is unknowable and out-of-reach, so much greater than pretty much every other creature in the world. And that also sounds like a way you could describe the void!

And if dragons could access the void, then that would explain how they appear and disappear so fast, and if they control weather that would be how the thunderstorms don’t come in over the horizon, and simply just happen.

But what does it mean? Why did Marella go to them in…what chapter was it again? I can’t remember. Why did Linh react to strongly to the dragon scales?

And Marella may have the wings, but Linh has the scales on her face (although iirc they’re a different color to the one Sophie picked up, so I don’t think it’s hers and I don’t see why she’d attack if it was), so is she a dragon as well? And if they are, are they different kinds of dragons? And since dragons are extremely territorial (from what we’ve seen and can infer so far) is that going to create problems? Linh already reacted terribly to another scale, so if her and Marella’s dragon instincts get worse, I can see how that would go terribly. Or is Linh a different kind of creature?

There’s just…so many thoughts. I barely got into any actual theories here, oops. But that’s…most of my thoughts for now. Hope you enjoyed? I know I personally enjoyed Chapter 11 immensely, thank you for this wonderful AU!

- pyro

woa this is a lot!! pyro!! i am speechless!! I am. I am ahhh!!! I'm glad the interactions felt natural, I was a little worried they'd feel too out of character but sometimes my need to let them mess around with each other takes over

those first four facts you've laid out do seem to be what I'm hinting at--whether you're correct though, I'll let you find out in later chapters. I have more to say about Bronte and Oralie's messages but I'll get to that later. also, I do have more planned for the dragons, which will be fun!!

will be entirely honest i forgot you all don't know what wings Linh has--but!! her connection to the dragons may be related to her wings! everyone has a pair of wings unique to them, so how that translates to her remains to be seen. Marella with the dragon wings and the interests may seem more obvious, but I think Linh is gonna have a lot more mysterious, confusing connection to the way everything works.

Now! onto Bronte and Oralie's messages!! these stumped me for a while because I needed them to be cryptic, but also riddle-like with some kind of meaning that sophie could figure out if she gave it enough thought. of course, as of chapter 11 she hasn't even tried to figure it out, but it's planted that seed in her mind

a cool thing that I just want to point out: there are a few lines throughout the au that i have taken the structure of directly of from the books and altered their wording. One of those was in a previous chapter where I took the "but her mind was stronger than her body" from book one and changed it. I don't remember exactly what i changed it into as it's been a while, but I know that's one of them. and i did it again in this chapter! if you remember the message Bronte had Mr. Forkle give Sophie, "It takes a special someone to see darkness inside of someone and not condemn them," that's the quote I based his unique portion of the message off of. Oralie's also has a meaning tied to an interaction with her, but it's not tied to a specific quote.

for the "infectious light," you are right, that does have a meaning, and it was important it was those exact words. what it turns out to be, however, may not be entirely what you're expecting. and then there's the "history will have something sweet to say about you" which is a little hint to Sophie, whenever she figures that one out. they are trying to send her a message but she needs to figure out what they're trying to say first!! also, the secrecy and redundancy part does have something more to it, but I'll let you continue theorizing about that one.

my apologies if i'm focusing on this part for too long, but I legit spent like half an hour trying to figure out how to word this to set up future scenes and reveals, so I want to share some of that process!

and it is curious how the elven world is the only one affected...

there's a lot of theories for why it was so easy for them to develop those features, maybe their minds adapt to abilities so suddenly that they're predisposed to other changes as well, or they go quicker. maybe it's fragile, guilty minds that enable them to be taken over by horrors like these, whereas humans are exposed to violence and guilt and grief on a daily basis. I might touch on this later in the chapters, so I don't want to spoil anything, but there so many possibilities!!

moving on to the dragons!! you're right, i do think very highly of dragons and like the inachievability of them in this context. they're not just mindless creatures, they're a lot more complex, as we saw with them having abilities like elves. Sophie doesn't know exactly what it was, but she thinks it was tied to the explosive sounds she heard and the change in the weather. and I could tie them to the void! if we going with intelligent creatures having access to the void (like silveny, though her intelligence is very different) then it would make sense to continue that pattern. and it could explain a few of the mysteries left behind after chapter 7 (6? i forget which one)

like i mentioned before, I do have more planned for the dragons, and that does involve both Linh and Marella specifically. so!! I think some of your questions will be answered in the upcoming chapters, but for now I can't exactly answer without spoiling. but! you are asking the right questions!! you are on the right track!!

and it wasn’t exactly scales on linhs face, more they had they same pattern (the iridescent one) but I might've worded it weird so I can see where that came from. as for whether or not she's a dragon, the only thing I can tell you right now is that she doesn't have the exactly same wings as Marella, and i told you in chapter 9 (i think?) that she could easily hide them like Sophie, Wylie, and Biana. The whole mystery with the scale, however, is one of the things that i can't answer without spoiling, so I guess that tells you there's a lot more to that too.

i also have so many thoughts about the au and !! I loved reading all of yours!! I enjoyed it thoroughly!! chapter 11 may seem slower than some of the more action packed chapters, but it sets up a lot of the lore and background we'll need for future endeavors, so i'm glad you liked it!! I think i introduced a lot of questions in this one too...

I might've missed some of your points (there were a lot, which is excellent!!), so if there was something important I glossed over feel free to send another ask so I can go back over it!!

but thank you for reading this au!! talking about it motivates me to write more and make it more complex!! I mean, we're about 84,000 words in and I'm still going, so. there's a lot more to come!!

[iceeckos12]

ouch oof i am sad

remember the scene that @pitviperofdoom was talking about in this post? well this was something she mentioned in the discord server and because i am always a sucker for a good angst, i wrote an entire Thing for it. content warnings under the cut

basically: assistant archivist au where gerry did die. mentions of past character death

Jon’s quiet as Julia explains how to pull Gerard Keay from the page. This is not unusual in and of itself. Jon is not the type of person to fill spaces with endless chatter, or to make small talk for the sake of it. Martin and Jon’s friendship has been characterized by long, comfortable silences and the conversation they make between each one.

This is different, though. Martin can’t tell if it’s because of his connection with the Beholding that he knows, or if he’s just gotten better at reading Jon, but this is - wrong. The last conversation that they had, if you could call it a conversation at all, was Jon quietly asking if they could stop by Pittsburgh to visit the hospital where Gerard Keay died. Since then, he’s been mostly lost in thought.

Martin knows that Jon and Gerard worked together with Gertrude. He’s inferred that they were friends, because Martin has learned to read the quiet grief that crosses Jon’s face whenever Gerard is mentioned. Now he’s wondering if they were closer than he realized.

He doesn’t dare ask though, not in front of Julia. And he’s not even sure that Jon would tell him if he did ask. So he sets aside his worry, turns to the Hunter, and says, “Thank you, Julia.”

Her smile is full of teeth. “Give the door a knock when you’re done.”

Martin watches her go, unwilling to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. When the door finally clicks shut, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief and looks down to find Jon holding the book in his hands, staring at it, perfectly still.

“...Jon?”

Jon jumps and looks up, his lips pressed into a thin, bitten line, his eyes slightly wild.

Martin knows how to handle Jon when he’s scared, when he’s cruel. He knows how to handle Jon when he’s simmering with anger, when he’s exhausted and frayed about the edges. This is completely new, and he shifts at the unwelcome, familiar feeling of uncertainty. “Do you...want me to do it?”

Jon immediately shakes his head, so quick it looks painful. “No. No, I should…” he takes a deep breath, scrubs his hand through his hair. He takes a few quick steps forward, then turns around, the book pressed to his stomach. “I’ll do it.”

Martin opens his mouth to question the wisdom of that idea, but then Jon is flipping open the book to the last page. He clears his throat once, twice, and then, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide.”

Jon’s voice breaks on the last word, and he stops.

“...Jon?”

Martin watches the gentle bob of Jon’s throat as he swallows. Then he shakes his head and says in a voice much stronger and clearer than before, “His consciousness faded in and out like the tide. He tried to refuse their drugs…”

He continues talking, his voice rising and falling with every word, like he’s reading just another statement. He slows as he reaches the last few sentences.

“...And his only thought was to cry out for the one he loved. He could feel small, familiar hands gripping his, the soft rise and fall of a voice, hushed like a prayer. The name fell from his lips, but he couldn’t be sure whether or not he had been heard. He hoped that he had been heard. And so Gerard Keay ended.”

Gerard Keay stands in the center of the room. He’s wearing all black, which Martin had expected. Black trench coat, black trousers, black boots, eyes made sharp with makeup. He looks like he just raided the shelves of a Hot Topic, only he makes it work.

Gerard’s gaze flickers from Martin to Jon, and for a moment there is no recognition, no comprehension. He opens his mouth - and then he stills, his eyebrows coming together in vague confusion. His jaw slackens, and his eyes widen, and his expression is cracked open like an egg, revealing the vulnerable yolk beneath.

Jon makes a sound. Martin could not characterize that sound even if he wanted to. It sounds like - like all of Jon’s insides have been scooped out of him, like he’s surrounded by air but he can’t get a breath, like - grief. It sounds like pure, mortal grief.

Just like that, Martin understands.

“Jon,” Gerard Keay says.

And then Jon bursts into tears.

“Gerry,” Jon gasps, but when he reaches out his hand goes right through Gerry’s sleeve. “Gerry, I - “

“Jon,” Gerry steps in close, his hands framing Jon’s face, staring at him the way a drowning man stares at a life raft.

“I’m sorry,” Jon manages. “Gerry I’m so - I promise, I didn’t know, I - “

“It’s okay,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s hair reflexively, but freezes when his fingertips disappear into Jon’s forehead. His expression crumples. “It’s fine, I know. I know. Jon, Jon - ”

And then they’re both crying, tears dripping down. Jon’s face is buried in his hands, and he’s weeping, keening, and Gerry keeps reaching for him, but there’s no way to connect, no way to touch. There’s no relief. It’s just shared grief, endless and pervasive and shattering.

Martin turns away and frantically scrubs his hands across his face. Oh, God. He feels so guilty, but he doesn’t want to be here right now. There is a Shakespearean tragedy playing out before his eyes, the kind that’s brimming with heartache and things left unsaid, and he is powerless against it.

Finally, mercifully, the sound of crying dies away into exhausted silence, except for thick, heavy breathing. Martin keeps his back to them, wanting to give them some semblance of privacy for a conversation that they obviously need to have.

“...so where is she?”

Jon huffs out a quiet laugh, lacking humor, edged with hurt. “Dead. Shot to the chest.”

“Figures.” A meaningful pause. “So are you...”

“Oh, no. No, it’s...oh. Martin?”

Martin sniffs hard and drags his hands over his cheeks before turning around, forcing a smile on his face. Jon and Gerry are standing as close to each other as they can without touching, twin tracks of silver tears on their cheeks.  “Hi, sorry. Just...wanted to give you two a bit of privacy. Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist.”

Gerry dips his chin in acknowledgement, before turning his confused gaze back to Jon. “I thought…?”

“He knows,” Jon says quickly. “I’m...well. It’s complicated. Gertrude hid a lot more from us than we knew.” There’s still a raw hurt in Jon’s voice when he says that, mixed with a lingering sort of nostalgia.

Gerry grimaces. “Did she know about…”

Martin doesn’t realize what he’s asking about until he gestures toward his head, a helpless, reluctant sort of gesture.

“I - maybe?” Jon shakes his head, for the first time turning out of Gerry’s orbit, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’d like to think not, but...it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone. We’ll never know.”

There is a moment of silence. Martin bites his lip, then forces himself to stop when he realizes that he’s already chewed it bloody. It’s hard to watch Jon draw back into himself, put the pain where it can only hurt himself.

“Hey,” Gerry reaches for Jon’s chin, frowns when his hand sinks into the skin. He shakes his head and walks around so he can insert himself into Jon’s field of vision. “Stop. I can feel you blaming yourself, okay? Just...stop. It’s not your fault.”

“...but I should’ve -”

“I am not letting you use this as another stick you beat yourself with,” Gerry interrupts firmly. “You read my page, didn’t you? I didn’t die alone. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but you don’t understand how much I -”

He breaks off. Jon’s breath rattles dangerously again.

“I always thought that I was going to die alone,” Gerry finishes.

There’s another moment of silence. Jon puts his head in his hands again, and Martin aches at the way Gerry’s face crumples with the desire to reach out, to comfort. They’re in the same room, but there’s a yawning, uncrossable distance between them.

Then Jon lowers his hands. There’s a spark in his eyes that Martin recognizes: the scarce moments before an inferno, before manic determination sets Jon’s whole being ablaze. “Gerry, I’m getting you out of here. I can - you and me, we can figure it out. We can -”

“No.”

Jon pauses. The spark jolts, catches on the cool wave of his confusion. “...what?”

“I’m dead, Jon,” Gerry reaches out for Jon again, then stops. Lets his arm fall to his side, clenches his fists. “I can’t live like this.”

Breathless hurt snatches across Jon’s face. “No, Gerry. I can’t - not when I’ve just found you, I -”

“It hurts, Jon,” Gerry interrupts, and he does not seem like the type to beg, but his voice dips at the end with a desperate plea. “It...it hurts, all the time, and...I just want to rest. Please, just let me rest.”

Jon swallows once. Twice, and his face crumples with sympathy, with empathy, with that awful exhaustion that they’ve all been wearing since what feels like forever. After a moment, he nods.

Gerry lets out a low, quiet sigh of relief, tension draining from his broad shoulders. He smiles faintly, ghosting his knuckles against Jon’s cheek. Jon leans into the touch even though he must not be able to feel it, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth drawn.

“I wish you were here,” Jon whispers.

“Yeah,” Gerry steps back, hiding his expression behind his long curtain of black hair. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence. A rearranging of expressions, a folding of hurt and pain back where it can no longer be seen. Jon is once again himself, his expression distant, and Gerry is wry and so very, very dead.

Gerry turns to Martin and smiles. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, Martin.”

Martin swallows, trying to unearth his voice. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then Gerry turns back to Jon. “You know what to do.”

Jon nods again, sharp and short. “I...I dismiss you.”

Gerry closes his eyes, and the whole room sighs as he dissipates into nothing.

Jon stands alone in the middle of the room, spine so straight there may as well be an iron rod put up the back of it. Martin doesn’t even know what the hell he is supposed to say. There is nothing he can do to make this better. How the hell is he supposed to make this better?

The moment passes. Jon’s shoulders slump, and when he turns back to Martin, his eyes are empty.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says monotonously.

Martin cannot do this. Martin cannot just stand there while Jon apologizes and looks at him like that, and -

“Don’t apologize,” he steps forward. “Can I hug you? Please?”

Jon thinks about that for a moment. When he eventually nods, Martin crosses the short distance between them and folds Jon into his arms, trying to ease the sharpness of the pain he surely must be feeling. He can’t make it better, but he can make sure that Jon knows that he isn’t alone. He can do this.

Jon doesn’t move for a moment, his face pressed into Martin’s shoulder, his arms loose at his sides. But just when Martin is about to pull away, he slowly reaches up, curls his hands in the fabric of Martin’s shirt. Lowers his head so he is half-buried in Martin’s embrace. He was already small, but he tries to make himself smaller, like he’s trying to hide himself in the folds of Martin’s pullover.

Eventually, he lets go. Eventually he steps back, letting his bangs hide his eyes, and goes to pick up the book. Martin watches his painful, slow movements, as though he’s filled with bruises from the inside out. He’s so distracted that Jon’s voice almost makes him jump.

“You should…you should do it.”

Martin shakes himself. “Sorry?”

“Burn his page,” Jon elaborates, holding the book out to Martin.

Martin gapes at him, stunned, because - “Um. No? Jon, why -”

“I can’t be the only person who’s ever done right by him.”

Oh. Well, when he puts it like that.

Martin swallows and takes the book gingerly, like he’s holding something precious. He flips to the last page and carefully tears it out, ignoring the way Jon’s breath catches at the soft ripping sound. Then he folds the page and puts it into his pocket, trying not to let on how nervous he is about having this precious page on his person. Trying not to let on how nervous Jon’s complete and utter trust makes him.

He is painfully aware of how many times that trust has been broken.

“Are you ready?” Martin asks.

Jon finally looks away from Martin’s pocket. “Yes. Let’s go.”

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA PIRATE AU

(of the Caribbean? Sort of? I guess?)

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the books/films) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, pirates and all of their violent shenanigans, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

Luther is the captain of the guard, and pirates are the bane of his existence. He hates Diego most of all, the man who’s stolen unspeakable amounts of gold from Reginald, Luther’s employer. But as annoyed he is at all of the theft, he purposefully never catches Diego, because he knows Klaus loves him. And Luther may be a man of the law, but he’s also Klaus’ beloved brother-in-spirit, even if Reginald wants them to marry each other for some idiotic reason. (Something about getting Klaus to settle down - ha, he can try.) When Klaus disappears, Luther follows him, having no connections left here - and that’s when he meets Allison. And there are copious laws against getting involved with married women and outlaws alike… so Luther starts to think that maybe bending the rules wouldn’t be so bad. (Klaus is so proud.)

Diego grew up poor, and became a pirate in his early teens when Grace took him in. When she fled the colony, Diego went with her, leaving his childhood best friend Klaus behind. He’s got his own fleet and crew now, and mostly uses his scores as excuses to flirt with Klaus, who’s still just as drawn to him after all these years and often sneaks him into his bedroom when Diego’s in town. Diego’s kept in close touch with Lila and Eudora, both of whom he grew up with once Grace took him away, and they both help him when it comes time for him to crash Klaus’ wedding to Luther (fuck you dude) and steal Klaus away for a life at sea. (Klaus absolutely LOVES this. They kiss a lot. They swing from ropes. Klaus is screaming at all the guards as Diego carries him away bridal-style (ha, I’m so funny). It is delightful.) (His ship is a terror they call The Kraken. Ha, get it? Get it - because Diego’s name - and the monster from legend - okay yeah I’ll shut up now.)

Allison is a badass goddess, covered in colorful tattoos with gold in her hair. She was a prostitute for awhile, stealing a bunch along the way, but one day one of the pirate captains who approached her tried to take more than he paid for. She broke both his hands and killed him in cold blood, then defeated his entire crew in a sword fight single-handedly, earning their respect. She now rides with that same crew as their captain, in one of those off-the-shoulder poet-blouse-corset dresses and high brown boots. Ray is a leutinant who’s been chasing her for years, the two of them flirting back and forth forever… but he’ll never catch her. It’s bad form to arrest your wife.

Klaus is the governor’s bastard son, a totally wild spirit who wears dresses all the time, drinks his weight at parties, and has slept with half the town (marriage is not a problem for him, this is Klaus, we all know he is very down for threesomes). He’s stolen half of Reginald’s shit for Diego over the years, and has been sneaking off to see him just as long, completely in love with his pirate king. Though he’s loved others before - Dave, for example, a soldier whose death broke Klaus into give in to Reginald’s plan to marry him off to Luther (who Klaus loves, just, Not Like That™). The day Diego kidnaps him from his own wedding is the best fucking day of his life - okay, no it wasn’t. That was second best. The best day of his life was the day he and Diego watched Diego’s ship and treasure burn and sink into the sea, and Klaus asked him if he was alright, and Diego just shrugged. Said, You’re the only treasure I need, and kissed him like the world was ending. Yeah. That was the best day of his life, because Diego is the best anything in his life.

Five was a pirate queen until he transitioned a few years ago, though only by word of mouth. No one’s ever seen him. Anyone who works for him doesn’t make it a month outside of the job, usually by his own hands, but people keep coming because nobody knows who he is. He sails alone, though he offers Klaus refuge on his boat for a few days under the moniker Aidan, because he knows Diego loves him, and Five actually respects Diego (if only because he respects Lila who he only respects because he respects Eudora). He hates the Handler for leaving him stranded on an island when he was just a child, an unwanted product of her crew’s hard partying, and has vowed to kill her one day for leaving him alone for so long, ageless in misery. He talks to the mermaid on the front of his ship named Dolores and kills without mercy, and when he finally reveals himself as this skinny pale thirteen-year-old with the grandpa haircut, he revels in the looks on his family’s faces as they try to rebuild their blown brain circuits.

Ben loves Klaus more than life itself, which is, in hindsight, probably why he’s dead. Oh who is he kidding, it’s definitely why he’s dead. Klaus is sort of, kind of, maybe, just a little bit a witch, and they hang witches where they’re from. So when they needed someone to blame for the odd happenings Klaus had caused recently, Ben had taken the blame and worn the noose proudly. Klaus still talks to him all the time, his ghost anyway, and it’s fine - but Klaus lives on the sea now, with Diego, and Ben gets seasick like all the time. (And then he steals Davy Jones’ heart and gets trapped as a tentacle monster, which is honestly not that bad. It helps him scare birds, and Ben likes scaring birds.)

Vanya works as the blacksmith’s apprentice, sad and lonely. She’s been having an affair with the duchess Sissy for years, also working as her maid and a nanny for her son Harlan when asked, but mostly she’s alone, with no one else to care for in the world. (And that creep officer Leonard keeps asking her to marry him, which, just. Ew.) When Five shows up, his hands in his pockets, and offers her a way out, well - what else could she possibly do?

Lila is a badass pirate princess who don’t take no shit from anybody. She wears bright pink ballgowns while skewering people like kabobs, which is funny because she’s a well-known maneater. Literally. (Yes I included a Hannibal character in here because it’s my AU and I can do whatever the fuck I want.) She fell in love with Eudora, and thought she had corrupted the kind sergeant until she found out Eudora had been an undercover pirate the whole time, helping Diego smuggle Reginald’s gold and goods in and out of port. (That’s hot as fucking hell, she blurts when she realizes. Fuck, I’m gonna marry this woman.) She has a serious rum problem she will not be addressing and a collection of pet parrots that will forever prevent her and Ben from becoming friends. When she and Eudora get married, it’s in the middle of the pouring rain while thunder and lightning and gunshots crack around them and they’re killing people and shooting canons left and right (because I may not have shipped Will and Elizabeth but by god if their wedding wasn’t the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen). Now if only she could find the king of the pirates… she’s been hunting Five for years, hoping to prove herself to him, but he just… won’t show up.

Eudora is the sergeant in Reginald’s legions, and has been using her position to help Diego pirate goods since before he even left with Grace. She makes a lot of deals with him, having him carry her cargo and speak with her connections in exchange for her keeping an eye on Klaus for him, which to be honest they both know she’d do anyway. She helped Diego get to Klaus’ wedding and kidnap him, confusing the soldiers in pursuit of the bride, and follows them off to sea, finally home. She feels she owes an eternal debt to Klaus for not being able to save Ben from execution, though she tried, almost desperately. She flirts with Lila all the damn time, and believes in magic, wanting to travel the world looking for it. Most importantly, you should know that she will and has killed for a cheeseburger. (I know they weren’t invented yet shut up.)

Reginald is the governor of the colony, and Klaus’ father. He’s an asshole, one who constantly hunts the pirates because his wife Grace left him to be one. He only has one eye because Grace cut the other out viciously in their last fight, and he’s an abusive piece of shit who lives to terrorize and tax people. Pogo is his assistant / advisor / let-me-stand-here-and-give-you-good-advice-that-we-all-know-you’ll-ignore person. Reginald refuses to die before he catches Grace and sees her hanging in the square - something that seems more and more likely by the day. (HA, Grace says. He wishes.)

Grace is the original pirate queen, and lives in legend. She faked her death after living a double life for years, leaving Reginald and taking her son Diego with her. She knows Reginald doesn’t believe in her death, because she cut his eye out and nearly killed him right before she left, but everyone else believes it. She jumped from the bell tower and Klaus himself “went mad with grief” at the sight of her body, though he of course knows she’s alive and keeps up the story for her benefit. She injured Reginald so severely because he killed Ben, knowing that he wasn’t guilty, and that the witch in question had done nothing wrong anyway. She is known to be fiercely protective of her children, and kind in nature despite her ability to kill you using a historic number of methods. Her crew is made up of refugees who she offered shelter and a better life in exchange for their servitude, including Five, for awhile, who was running a scam. She knows who he is, and remembers his face well - but she keeps it to herself. Though she could match him in a fight easily, she has no interest in battling the boy she has grown to love as a son. (She’s also the one who officiates Diego and Klaus’ wedding, but that’s unrelated.)

The Handler is another pirate queen, and Grace’s greatest rival. She has two pistols at her waist and is not afraid to use them, having such deadly aim that she’s never missed a target - except Diego, which she hates him for. Also for encouraging her first mate and daughter Lila to mutiny, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Her ship is followed by an entire shiver of sharks, who let her use them like water skis whenever she wants. She abandoned Five on an island when he was born into her crew, as she hates children with a burning passion. (There are rumors she eats little boys’ bones. They have yet to be disproven.) Hazel is her snivelling first mate and Cha-Cha is her willing servant and second captain, a master at the wheel and with a sword. Agnes is an old psychic (ha, she’s faking it. She’s got no fuckin’ clue where Five is and will continue to lie whenever asked) she keeps in the brig after kidnapping her years ago, hoping to get a read on Five, who the Handler hates for constantly stealing her goods before they even make it to port. (She has no idea he’s the same boy she left on that island all those years ago - he’s certainly not the only child she’s done that to. But countless are out for her blood… almost every person Grace has rescued was left to die on an island by the Handler.) She eventually dies at Klaus’ hand, who plunges a sword through her heart in defense of his family, who she made the fatal mistake of coming after. (It happened in the same rainy battle where Lila and Eudora were married. He was wearing a yellow ballgown.)

Also Jack Sparrow is super great friends with Lila and he’s married to Will Turner who’s honestly so exhausted but gets along great with Ben and Elizabeth is their ace-aro friend who is a goddamn queen and who Diego has a lowkey crush on and Klaus can geek out with for hours. It’s awesome.

[anne-chloe]

Always

Through her many losses over the years, Wanda is learning to accept her grief.

Wanda/F!Reader (Platonic)

Mentions of violence, blood and death // fluff, angst, platonic love between wanda and the reader

“Where’s Steve?”

Tony glanced up from his project, loose scraps of metal and trinket devices scattered around him, presenting him in a light that reminded you briefly of a compulsive hoarder. He blinked slowly before shrugging his shoulders in a disinterested manner.

“No clue, kid, sorry,” Tony answered in short, waving you off before returning back to his intense thoughts. His skilful fingers worked away at the technical objects, a skill that you often admired. Where Tony found comfort in fixing and creating, you were quite the opposite; you tend to break everything you touch, accidentally, of course.

You stepped out of his lab and wandered back into the main room of the compound, scratching the back of your neck in an obvious frustration. The super soldier had seemingly vanished since breakfast that morning, and to say you were concerned was an understatement.

Eventually, you found yourself pausing in the kitchen, where you spotted Wanda speaking quietly with Vision. The two stopped and glanced over as you began to approach, their conversation fading out as you greeted them with a smile.

“Did you find him?” Vision inquired, now turning half his attention to the diced onion scattered on the chopping board. He wordlessly scraped the vegetable into a frying pan, filling the room with a satisfying sizzle.

You shook your head. “Nope, the old guy seems to have disappeared,” you half heartedly joked, taking a seat at the breakfast counter opposite the duo. “But it can wait, I guess, it’s not overly important.”

Wanda moved around the counter and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into a hug. “Your family history is definitely interesting,” Wanda mused, her fingers tangling themselves into your hair, twirling and playing. You leaned into her touch, enjoying the comfort she brought.

Vision started to add chopped mushrooms, bell peppers, crushed garlic and tomatoes to the pan, all filling the air with a delightful smell. “It is highly possible that your grandfather served in the war alongside Mr. Rogers. Have you discovered any possible information that could link them?”

You sighed, beginning to feel doubtful. “No, but I’m aware Steve served in the same regiment that my grandfather did…”

“Might I ask why you want to know? Is it curiosity or desire for knowledge?”

You watched as Vision added some spices to the mix of whatever he was cooking. “I never knew much about my family growing up, but I recently found out that my grandfather passed away. I guess it would be nice to have a connection to something, especially since I was named on his will to inherit his farmhouse.”

“I see,” Vision hummed. He gestured for Wanda to taste his concoction by holding out a spoon; Wanda beamed and gave a supportive thumbs up, pleased with how the dish was turning out.

Tilting your head to the side, you fell quiet as you witnessed the genuine peace settling across her face. For the first time in a long time she was comfortable, and that very realisation made a loving warmth spread throughout your chest.

Later that night, while curled up in bed, you lay silent, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. Everything was quiet, a comfortable quiet that allowed you to recollect yourself. And while you admired the patterns above your bed, you became aware of a person loitering outside your door.

Sitting up, you blinked slowly before flicking your wrist, opening the door with a small ‘click’. Light gushed in to your bedroom, spotlighting you as you squinted to see who it was.

A guilty smile crept up onto Wanda’s face before she entered your room, sheepishly shuffling across the floor in her fluffy slippers. You pulled the duvet back and welcomed her into your bed, wrapping your arms around her before snuggling underneath the covers.

“Your senses are getting better,” Wanda praised with a pleased gleam in her eyes. You chuckled softly, listening to the sound of the door closing again at your incredible willpower.

“Honestly, I had no idea it was you outside,” you admitted quietly.

Wanda’s finger tapped your nose. “And what if I had been a murderer?” She teased.

“A murderer in this building? Impossible,” you retaliated, setting off a shared bubble of giggles.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and after a minute or so you closed your eyes, welcoming the safe feeling that Wanda offered while with you. The combined warmth of your bodies offered a peaceful opportunity to sleep, and with the past few busy months that had occurred, yourself and Wanda deserved it.

“We should run away together,” you murmured sleepily. Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with Wanda, waiting patiently for her response.

Through the darkness, you could see her smile. “Where would we go?”

“There’s this nice little farmhouse waiting for me in the countryside…”

You felt Wanda shift slightly. “We could have rocking chairs on the porch,” you added gently, your ears now burning red at the exciting idea. “And maybe a chicken coop.”

“We could have a dog and a cat,” Wanda interjected thoughtfully; you felt your heart skip a beat as she hopped onto your idea. “If there’s a stream near by, or a lake, imagine the picnics we could have during the summer season; or the comfort of sitting in front of the fireplace throughout the winter.”

“It’d be so cute having Bertie and Bobby curled up together in front of the fire,” you beamed.

“Bertie and Bobby?”

“Yeah, the dog and the cat.”

Piling cute ideas on top, one after the other, creating mundane scenarios with one another as the night began to creep onwards; you became aware of how much you loved being in Wanda’s presence. She truly was your best friend, your confidant. If anyone could understand you, it was her.

Like you, Wanda had suffered considerably growing up. Having lost her parents, to voluntarily being experimented on with the mind stone, to then losing her brother during the battle in Sokovia. Wanda was pretty much a mirror of yourself, battling through the worlds worst grievances.

To experience a normal life would mean the absolute world to the both of you, having no other choice but to grow up so fast in a world so cruel.

“_____?” Wanda whispered after your hushed giggled died down.

You hummed, feeling the drowsiness sink bank in. You blinked slowly, wishing for the fatigue to disappear, wanting to remain in this very moment for as long as possible.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked softly.

“For loving me,” Wanda answered.

You couldn’t help but smile again. Awkwardly, you moved your hands around under the duvet before locating her hand; you squeezed her hand tightly, bringing your face close to hers before planting a kiss upon her forehead.

“Always.”

…

A chill raced up your spine as you stood defensively across from Tony, whom was clad in his Iron Man armour, an expression of disapproval obvious across his face.

You never thought you’d go against him, not like this, not when your team was supposed to be inseparable. But he’d betrayed the Avengers tenfold; in your eyes, he was turning his back against everything you were supposed to stand for. Without the Avengers better judgement, it would simply became another military asset.

That’s not what you signed up for.

“I’m disappointed in both of you, Wanda, _____.”

You scoffed, heart hammering inside your chest. You were hurt by his words, because Tony’s opinion mattered so much to you. He was there at the beginning of your unravel; he had supported you through the trials calling for your imprisonment, and he had stuck by your side every moment of every day. Countless times he had saved your life, and countless times had you returned such a favour.

“You don’t get to be disappointed, Stark,” you countered coldly, a tone so bitter and low that it felt horrible to use. “You turned your back on us - you tried to lock Wanda away!”

“I was protecting her! I was protecting you!” Tony shouted, exasperated. It was evident that he was frustrated, and underneath his eyes were deep, purple bags, an indication that this entire situation was losing him sleep.

“Protecting us? I think you need to look at a dictionary and improve your knowledge! That suits clearly gone to your head.”

It wasn’t long before a fight broke out. It was brutal; it felt wrong on every level imaginable. To be fighting your family was everything you stood against; you never thought this day would exist or happen, yet here you were, using your powers against the people you had grown to love and care for.

Firmly standing your ground, you aimed your hand at the nearest object - a car - and willed it to move into the air. Power surged through your body and into your fingertips, lighting your mind with excitement and thrill. It was heavy and took a lot of willpower, but you were able to send it crashing into the man clad in the Black Panther suit.

You turned on your heel and took off into the air, landing atop of the nearby aeroplane where you knew your advantage would be. Below, you could see all your friends engaged in some form of fight. Whether or not they were feeling regretful of their actions, you weren’t sure, you could only be positive of your own guilt and shame.

Sensing a trustful twitch in the back of your mind, you threw yourself to the ground as Spider-Man suddenly swept overhead. He landed a few feet away, catching himself before falling over the edge.

“And who are you supposed to be?” You hissed, feeing no attachment for this stranger. Standing to your own defence, you readied yourself for whatever could be thrown your way.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Your eyebrows shot upwards in genuine surprise at the childlike voice. Your stomach sank at the realisation that Tony had recruited a literal child; was he truly that desperate to capture yourself and the others, just to obey the Sokovia Accords?

“This isn’t your fight, kid,” you warned.

“Mr. Stark said—“

You shot out your hand and made a grabbing mimic, lifting Spider-Man into the air and interrupting him mid-sentence. A surprised shriek left his mouth as you dangled him over the edge, furthering him away from your advantage spot.

“Stark lies. Stay out of this fight, you have no reason to be here other than Tony’s desperation!”

Despite being his enemy, you were careful in lowering Spider-Man to the ground. You weren’t aware of his exact age, but you didn’t want to risk injuring a kid. It wasn’t fair bringing an innocent into a fight like this; he shouldn’t be troubling himself with a situation that could snatch away his future. This only made you all the more furious at Tony.

Steve and Bucky made a dash across the airport, followed closely by Sam and Clint. From your high position, you knew you’d be able to stop anything from stopping their getaway. You just had to be quick and not hesitate.

Your eyes locked on to Tony, Nat and Rhodey, who were all advancing towards Steve. You inhaled deeply and conjured as much power as possible to launch objects in their path, just to slow them down and buy your friends some time. It worked, for the most part; wiping out Tony and holding him back.

The Black Panther had his eyes set like sharp daggers on Bucky, a vengeful thirst driving his motivation to catch the Winter Soldier. You were skeptical about Bucky’s crimes and claim to fighting his way to a better life, but you trusted Steve and his judgement best.

As the Black Panther started to veer closer to Steve and Bucky, you intercepted by launching your body into him. You both tumbled off to the side and rolled across the concrete.

You smacked your head and heard a gruesome crack, and a moment of delirium washed over you. The sky swirled and the world danced in circles; your eyes remained unfocused and blurry as you stumbled and tripped to your feet, to your knees before you fell flat on your face again.

You shot out your hand and mimicked a swiping motion, knocking Rhodey off his feet and increasing Steve’s chance of escape. Even if you couldn’t escape with them, you knew what had to be done.

As Steve and Bucky vanished into the storehouse, where an aircraft waited for them, you realised Natasha was nowhere to be seen. A string of curses slipped through your gritted teeth as you attempted to stand again, not ready to lose against Tony.

Before you could make any advancements, within your peripheral vision, you spotted Wanda in a heap of trouble. Your heart hammered in anticipation as she fought with hesitated strength, and you knew that she felt the same as you did.

It wasn’t right fighting against your friends like this. Ideals and beliefs tearing the team apart so easily; yet, you understood why these things had to be done. Not only that but Bucky is a criminal whom needed to be trialed for his crimes, even if he wasn’t fully in control of his actions.

“Wanda! Behind you!” You shrieked, eyes snapping open in horror as she was tackled and pinned to the ground by Vision. He restrained her easily, and while she struggled against him for only a brief moment, you saw the fight leave her eyes as she caved.

Scrambling to your feet, you focused on Visions hands and forced them away from Wanda. A look of betrayal crossed his face, his eyes narrowing in distrust.

“Stop this, _____,” Vision demanded.

Your knees started to shake as the pressure set in. A dull throb spread throughout your head, and your eyes slowly started to blur. With the corners of your sight starting to darken, the world around you growing cold, you finally locked eyes with Wanda.

The faintest of smiles turned at her lips, her reassuring gaze urging you to relax. And you did; you released your hold on Vision and crumbled to your knees, panting and gasping for air. Wanda then mouthed, “it’s okay”.

It was over.

Just like that.

Tony and his team of traitors tore you from the airport and had you imprisoned in the intense safety of the RAFT. A place where powered individuals were locked away, the key thrown overboard; without mercy or empathy.

You curled yourself into a tight ball and stared aimlessly at the wall, lost in your thoughts, trapped with only the doubtful voice that mimicked your every insecurity.

Across from you was Wanda’s cell. She looked exhausted, like she had given up hope. Eventually, when her gaze turned to yours, at the same time, you both offered the tiniest smile, a reassurance that you were both in this situation together, no matter what.

Wanda placed her forehead against the glass and mouthed, “thank you for loving me.”

And you mouthed back, “always.”

…

As battle cries rang out across Wakanda, you found yourself lost in the heat of war. Crossing the field in the fastest sprint you could muster, you launched yourself into the air and knocked into one of Thanos’ children.

You both bounced and tumbled across the dirt floor, rolling far. There, you scurried to your feet and directed your attention onto their hands; weapons clutched tightly and pulled back to strike. You ducked and dodged, fighting back with as much force as you could manage.

With every punch you lay on them, they kicked back tenfold. You didn’t escape each small fight unscathed or unharmed. Blood trickled from fresh wounds, mixing with the sweat and dirt that gathered in lumps across your clothes and skin. But you knew you couldn’t stop, not even when your legs ached and screamed for you to stop.

You slid across the floor and tackled another beast, your hand motioning to grab and tear apart your target. It screamed and shrieked a shrill noise, one that made your ears ring, but you lacked the mercy to stop and consider your actions. It was either them or you.

Thanos was on a bloodthirsty mission for the Infinity Stones; whatever reason he desired them, you were uncertain, but you had been summoned to assist the broken-band of Avengers in their desperate attempts to stop him before irreversible damage could be caused.

The battle raged on, seemingly never ending. Both sides took heavy damage, but neither teams showed signs of surrender.

And then it slowed down.

The world grew darker and darker, and the floor drew closer at an alarmingly fast pace. Your head bounced against the floor, a shrill ringing drowning out the noise of battle around you. Your eyes, unfocused and teary, scanned the world for some kind of answer as a strange sensation expanded in your chest.

There was shouting; incoherent and loud, closer and farther away. You zoned in and out, an odd sense of calm flooding your senses while the sky turned brighter and warmer. Your body temperature dropped considerably, and suddenly the ache in your legs vanished.

Panicked, Natasha scooped you into her arms and dragged you as far as she could from the battle field. A string of reassurances fell from her mouth, hands soaked in blood, a mix of yours, hers and theirs. She fumbled uselessly and attempted to slow the bleeding from the gaping hole in your chest.

“Stay with me, _____! Stay with me!” Natasha aggressively demanded, her eyes often flickering towards the dangers around her, and back to the fading life underneath her. She couldn’t afford to lose you, not like this.

And as your eyes fluttered shut for the last time, your final thoughts drifted to Wanda.

Beautiful, brilliant, Wanda.

…

“Bertie! Bobby! Dinner!” You bellowed into the grassy field, hands clapping together as the twin golden retriever dogs bolted through the garden.

You could hardly see their heads in the blades of grass, but their pants and friendly grumbles assured you of their obedience and loyalty for their promised dinner. You loudly praised the dogs as they ushered past your form, straight into the farmhouse where their meals awaited.

You chuckled and turned, ready to close the door. However, you paused as something caught your attention at the end of your drive. A figure, distant and unmoving, watching you from afar. You blinked and faced them, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge.

“_____?”

Wanda.

A grin spread across your face as you darted down the porch with arms spread open wide. You captured Wanda in a tight hug, both of you collapsing to the ground in a heap of relieved laughs and happiness.

“It’s been too long!” You exclaimed after a minute of giggling. You both sat up, unbothered for the grass stains now marking your jeans. You cupped Wanda’s face lovingly and placed a kiss upon her forehead.

“I… I missed you,” Wanda confessed softly, her eyes filling with tears. “You look so healthy— amazing!”

You cast Wanda a strange look. “Missed me? We saw one another last week.”

Wanda began to stumble over her words, a deep red covering her ears. You laughed and poked her nose, and a nostalgic smile spread across her face in awe. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Before you could stand and lead her into your home, Wanda grasped your hand and held you still. You turned to face her, brows furrowing as confusion marked your expression, and it suddenly dawned on you of the sad, glossy tears in her eyes.

You reached out and cupped her cheeks, examining the saddening smile upon her face. “What’s the matter, Wanda?” You softly asked, your thumb gently stroking her cheek, wiping away an escaped tear.

Her hand reached up and grazed your fingers. The touch was gentle, almost like she was admiring you. But what for? She’d not long been with you; a week ago you had both enjoyed some tea and cake inside your kitchen, living in the moment, carefree and young.

“You died, _____.”

Your nose scrunched upwards before a dry laugh escaped your throat. “Very funny, Wanda.”

But Wanda didn’t laugh. She didn’t confess to her joke, nor did she attempt to crack a jestering smile. You pulled your hands away, suddenly feeling a cold chill rush up your spine.

“What are you talking about? I’m right here,” you muttered. You folded your arms across your front, hugging your limbs close in an attempt to stay warm. What happened to the warm sun? It had vanished behind those red clouds in the distance.

“Five years ago,” Wanda explained, her voice unstable and brittle. She seemed to have trouble speaking, and with the added tears rolling down her face, you found it nearly impossible to detect a lie within her words. “Thanos’ children stabbed your heart. You died in Natasha’s arms.”

As if fazed by her words, a dull, phantom ache spread inside your chest. It wasn’t painful, but there was a brief explosion of pins and needles. You winced, stepping back, disbelief setting in.

“Why are you saying these things?”

Wanda’s bottom lip trembled. “Because they’re true.”

You defiantly shook your head. “No, no they’re not. I’m standing right here, Wanda. Look! I’m real! I’m not dead! Look at me!”

“I have memories from the past five years! How would I have those if I had died?” You challenged bitterly.

“Because I gave you those memories!” Wanda snapped, stepping forwards and grasping your shoulders tight. She shook you slightly, trying to force some sense into you.

“Wanda—“

“What do you remember of our fight against Thanos and his children? What do you remember from Wakanda?”

You glanced between Wanda’s eyes, desperately searching for something to make sense of the situation. But all you could find was sadness; there wasn’t any frustration or irritation present, it was just anguish and despair.

You thought back to the battle in Wakanda, and you quickly found yourself doubting the outcome of events. What had actually happened? Your mind became hazy, filled with thoughts that felt so unreal and false.

“I fought beside Natasha…” you slowly confessed. “We were protecting Vision from Thanos, because he wanted the Mind Stone.”

“And?”

“And…”

But you couldn’t speak anymore. You stopped completely. Drawing blanks and endings that didn’t match, your memory ended there, leaving you an empty vessel with nothing more to say. Wanda understood your silence for realisation, and she knew you had finally pushed away her false reality.

You blinked rapidly, your arms unfolding and your hand pressing gingerly against your chest, where a gaping hole should have been. You could remember the indescribable pain that you had suffered in your final moments; the way Natasha held you close and begged you to stay alive.

“… and I died,” you whispered.

Wanda nodded stiffly. She lowered her gaze, hiding her shame away from you.

“How am I here?” You asked quietly.

A tear rolled down Wanda’s cheek. “I created you.”

Your eyes wandered to the sky, where you finally noticed the abnormality of the red shade. It was like blood, a river racing far and wide across the universe. This wasn’t your reality; how could you have been so blind to this moment?

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

Your gaze trailed back to Wanda. She remained still and tense, unmoving as she accepted what she had done.

Inhaling deeply, you let out a small sigh. Holding out your hand, you grasped hers and laced your fingers together, bringing her close and resting your forehead against hers. She sniffled loudly while fighting back a sob, and it took all your willpower to not burst into tears.

A golden glow began shining around your body, a lightweight feeling taking over. It was euphoric and blissful; you felt at peace and somewhat free. For the first time in a long time, you were calm and prepared to die.

“Hey, Wanda?” You mumbled.

Wanda hiccuped, “yes?”

You smiled and pulled away, eyes naturally locking with hers.

“Thank you.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “What for?” She asked.

“For loving me.”

And as the red started to fade in the sky, a blissful blue taking its place; your body started to fade away. Tiny golden swirls danced and glistened under the daytime sun, swishing and vanishing in the blades of grass.

The farmhouse began to fade, too, disappearing into thin air.

Before you could completely disappear, Wanda released an almighty wail of despair, her hands grasping the air in a futile attempt to make you stay.

And as her reality faded, so did you.

Wanda sobbed and crumbled to the ground, holding close her hands to her chest. Looking upwards to the sky, where the final specs of golden dust lingered high above, she mustered out a final farewell.

“Always.”

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TWO - cardigan 

previous chapter | next chapter  

summary: reader reflects upon her first time with spencer, upon the loss of her father and whether or not she did enough to save their relationship. 

warnings: death/loss of a loved one.

word count: 2,494

“sequinned smile, black lipstick, sensual politics. when you are young they assume you know nothing.”

This case hit the team particularly hard. Child abductions could either end with a happy ending or… This one was not one of those times. She was sure Reid had a statistic but they were all too exhausted to even keep their eyes open on the jet. The air was somber and tense - everyone feeling all too guilty to indulge in any kind of conversation.

By the time the plane had landed, none of them had slept and it was completely dark outside. She knew she needed a drink and a strong one at that. Reid had sat by her the entire flight home, she noticed how he could barely focus on his book in front of him, his shoulders completely tense. The 20,000 words per minute was slashed to 10 minutes. She hated yet understood that they all felt guilty, but there was always a special sadness in her when Reid was upset. He was the one negotiating, all that weight fell on his shoulders and she just wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay.

They all filtered into the office, Reid following sluggishly behind her. This was routine now, having only been at the bureau for just shy of a year, she had learnt how everyone took their coffee or tea, what time they all headed home with Hotch and Reid being the last out of the doors. She’d become accustomed to joining them in burning the late-night oil.

Reid didn’t even spare a glance at the kitchen as he sat down at his desk, a frown etched onto his face. She just wanted him to smile.

Making his coffee was second nature to her now; she knew exactly how much sugar he took depending on how he was feeling. Smiling to herself, she placed his mug on his desk and as he glanced up she walked back to her own desk to start working on the post-case paperwork and other cases she’d been asked to consult on.

She didn’t see it but he smiled. Only slightly but he did.

A few hours passed when she was finishing up her last file when a note was dropped onto her desk as Reid walked past her desk.

'Would you like to get a drink at Dan’s tonight? - S’

Grinning, she packed up all her files into her go-bag, grabbed her coffee cup and jacket meeting him in the kitchen. Silent words were exchanged as they met each other’s eyes, walking in sync towards the elevator.

“Didn’t take you for a Dan’s person, pretty boy.”

He blushed at the nickname, she rarely used it. “I-i just thought you could use a bit of respite is all.”

“We both could.” She giggled, nudging him with her shoulder. “You barely read your book on the way home and you couldn’t concentrate on your files, is everything okay?

She didn’t want to push him into talking to her, he would talk when he felt comfortable. However, his silence after her question and his eyes trained on the pavement made her nervous.

“N-not that you have to tell me! I just worry about you.”

His head snaps up. He meets her eyes with a slight smile.

“All I know is that I’m okay when I’m with you.”

After nursing a few drinks between them, despite both of them knowing they were lightweights, they stumbled out of Dan’s and into a cool January night. Pressed up against a streetlight, she grabbed onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

They’d spent the night talking about the case. How much she saw herself in the kids that were abducted. How he felt as though he had let everyone down. Her heart broke at his vulnerability.

Their noses were so close, she could feel his hot breath fan across her face; the smell of whiskey and wine mixed together. On a cold, winter night, they were each other’s warmth. Taking him in under the dim, amber streetlight she traced his features as if it was the last time she would ever see him, ever hold him, ever be this close to him.

His hair was short yet long, he was growing it out. She liked it either way. She’d have him anyway just as long as he was hers.

His eyes bore into hers, occasionally flickering down to her lips, filled with the same yearning and desperation she felt herself filled with.

His lips. She watched as he swiped his tongue across them. Suddenly she was sixteen again at homecoming waiting for that first perfect kiss.

In his embrace, she felt whole. No feeling of loneliness nor was this just pure lust. That underlying promise of something more made her stomach sink. She tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She laughed.

They pulled back from a moment, the intimacy of their embrace broken.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

Their lips connected and winter disappeared. It was sweet, his lips soft against hers. Her hand rested on the nape of his neck, his on her hips pulling her into him. Moving together, they were intoxicated by each other. She could now taste the whiskey on his tongue, each of her senses was consumed with Spencer. Just Spencer. Running her hands through his hair, she doesn’t want to let go.

Their lips parted, the cold breeze cut between them. Giddy smiles graced before their faces as he brushed her hair out of her face. A mutual understanding that they need each other, unspoken they know how much they do. She’d never needed someone as much as she needed him.

She tries to calm her breathing, her heart beating so fast it might burst out of her chest, as they walk wrapped in each other back to his apartment. His hand rests on her hip, rubbing small circles into it as they walk home. She had never seen him as brave as he was tonight.

Yet nervousness surrounded them both. They were so young, they knew so little but so much about the other.

She wanted everything.

“when i felt like an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favourite.”

The note he wrote all that time ago is tattered now and she toys with it. She’s kept all of the notes he’s passed her since her first day at the Bureau. She knew that he would profile her, it’s why he left the notes.

She knew that he understood that she sometimes needed a reason to smile, that he wanted to make her laugh and to make their working days just that little bit easier.

She wonders if he ever kept her responses.

The warmth of his cardigans that she used to wrap around herself when they queued up a new documentary on Netflix or when they watched an episode of Doctor Who together always reminded her of the warmth between them that first night they shared together.

Curling up further in her leather armchair, she tries to recall his touch. Trying to remember how his hands felt as they brushed her inner thighs, on the small of her back, or the place where she needed them most. She can’t remember where he used to hold her but she remembers how it made her feel.

Even on her worst days, the days were the grief, frustration and sadness were all too much, his embrace made her feel as though he was the sun; the centre to her universe and she was a whole galaxy of stars passing through. Old wounds healed and winter turned to spring in his arms.

But even that feeling has started to fade as his eyes no longer look at her as though she lightens up the night sky, now they just look through her.

It’s hard for her to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. Maybe they just left their rose-coloured glasses on for too long to avoid the reality that everything was collapsing around them.

The pain she held in heart, all the times she felt used or abandoned, became non-existent in his presence. The pure happiness he brought her she finds hard to describe; he reminded her of hot chocolate on an autumn night, but he also reminded her of the hot sun beating down on your back as you lie on the beach with nothing but the sound of gentle waves to keep you company.

She wonders if she ever brought him the same happiness he did for her?

It keeps her up at night. All the questions. What did she do right? What did she do wrong? Can it be fixed? But she reminds herself that it’s been months, if fate wanted them together she’d still be waking up on the other side of town to the smell of coffee and Beethoven.

“you drew stars around all my scars, but now i’m bleeding.”

The monitor flatlined, piercing through the silence of the blisteringly white, pristine hospital room.

She knew that she would lose him eventually. Just not like this.

This was her father - the one constant in her life since she lost her mother. He was her closest friend, confidant and companion. He taught everything she knows about life, love and good food. She needed more time. She was only young, she even believed their assumptions that she knew nothing and this was proof.

Finally, she allowed herself to weep. Hopeless tears rolled down her cheeks as Spencer wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. Her head pressed against where his heart lay in his chest. Even his heartbeat couldn’t calm her down.

Too weak to carry herself, the doctor’s words to her barely registered to her. All she knew was that it wasn’t painful, he didn’t suffer. Her father was finally at peace.

That provided her no comfort in that moment.

She can’t recall the week leading up to the funeral. Every day felt as though she was outside of herself, watching everything else happen. She felt numb, frozen in one place, and unable to move. People tackle grief in different ways, she knows the stages, yet she never felt herself go through any of them. She was completely and utterly disembodied by grief.

She listened to the kind words at the wake, at the funeral. She tried to remember them all but all she could think about was Spencer’s hand in hers. His gentle squeezes brought her back down to earth, out of the turmoil in her mind.

She thinks about how her Dad told him to take care of her. She remembers overhearing a conversation about blessings but she let that go a long time ago, they were too young for marriage her father would always joke.

She knew he was trying to be there for her as much as he could be, he couldn’t take time off of work to provide her with the support she needed. All he could do was call, check in as often as he could. The distance only made her heart shatter more and more. He didn’t urge her to talk about how she was feeling, he knew it would come in time but she all she wanted was that embrace. She wanted to feel his hands lightly trace her skin, the feeling alone mended the scars on her heart. But he wasn’t there.

“i knew you, tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy.”

She didn’t blame him for not being there. Work was as demanding as ever, that was the excuse time and time again. Then again, they were both not ones for sharing their feelings - she knew that he agreed with her when it came to spilling their souls. Sometimes it felt as though they were burdening each other with the weight they both held on their shoulders. Despite all the instances where they told each other that they would be there for it all, they still held back.

She didn’t know how to trust him with it.

He didn’t know how to express how scared he really was.

Their love was reminiscent of first love; full of childlike wonder, hope, and open to the world and its seasons.

But everyone grows up. Everyone is faced with the reality of life. Things come to end, there is suffering and there is happiness - everyone, whether you believe it or not, is in the hands of fate.

She laughed at the thought of Spencer believing in fate, he was a man of science after all. She believed that it was fate that they met that day, that they fell in love. She always will but she wonders if it was fate that pulled them apart or just a set of cruel circumstances and their fears of vulnerability.

The loss of her father impacted her in ways she struggled to comprehend herself. Her heart started to come apart that day, the cracks starting to show.

She loved her father, she was grateful for all he did. Her mother passed when she was 7 and her father never faltered. He taught her all she needed to know about love, about who to love, and who to let go. She didn’t know who to be without him. She had so much more to share with him.

She needed Spencer there and he wasn’t. Somedays he was so quiet she wondered if he had left his or her apartment. He never made her a cup of tea when the jet landed late, he never left her any notes, he never touched her anymore.

She tried to convince herself that she had done all that she could to try and save the sinking ship that was their relationship; cooking his favourite meals, bookshop dates, movie dates, long walks whenever they could. She tried talking to him, to try and get him to tell her how he felt but he shut it down. She knew it was easy to point fingers and place the blame on him for the end of their relationship but it’s not that simple. Maybe she stopped paying attention to everything he said, maybe she was too closed off, maybe she missed the signs. Maybe she clung onto him too much or maybe she left him alone too often.

For now, the loss is too much. From her father to her love, it crushes her. Each glass of wine provides her with the liquid courage to press that call button. But each time she reaches for it, she retracts and her nerves kick in.

Letting go is easier said than done, but all she needs right at this very moment is his embrace. Maybe just one more glass. Maybe then she’d call and he’d come back to her.

[unsaidmar]

One, The meeting.

Plot: Both Spencer and Olivia mourn their losses. Maybe doing it together works best.

WC: 2k, I get carried away.

CW: Brief mentions of death.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m very excited to share this. I submitted it for a creative writing assignment last week and I thought I would share it here too. This is the first time I post what I write and I kinda want to make this a series.

Olivia knew pain was lighter on the shoulders when carried with someone else, she was completely aware of the fact that pushing her friends and loved ones away was the last thing you’d want to do when grieving. Didn’t stop her, though. Opening up was a conscious effort she had to make.  

Lia had been gone exactly 467 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last.  Her mom had told her that pain didn’t have an expiration date, that she shouldn’t worry about getting over Lia’s death sooner than she was ready to, but nothing could help the feeling in the back of her mind, the little voice that reminded her that the world did not stop spinning when she left. Even if she felt like it did.

Mornings were almost automatic at this point. Get up, make an effort to look better, grab an excuse for breakfast, promise mamá you’ll get something else on the way to work, drive mindlessly to the place you knew like the back of your hand. The Grey Roots was special, it seemed to transform people’s perspective as soon as they walked in, it was full of memories and knowledge. That much was true for Spencer Reid.

Maeve had been gone exactly 278 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last. The team did their best to navigate around Spencer’s grief, always taking hints the he dropped. A fake smile that meant “we can ignore my loss today”, a shrug accompanied with the ghost of a smile that meant “today I’m feeling better, but I’m not expecting it to last”, and the words “I’m fine, I promise”, that roughly translated to “this is manageable today, so don’t ask me about it”.

The love and sense of protection the BAU had over Spencer was instinctual, which was hard when he seemed to be a thousand miles away while standing right there. Morgan had said that if isolation was what he needed right now, isolation he was going to get, but always with the promise of his friends running straight to him if he needed the comfort.

On his days off, he tried coming to terms with the loss. Loss was a tricky thing, Spencer thought. By definition, it was the state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value, so if it meant the absence of something, why did it feel like loss went with him everywhere?

The Grey Roots was a landmark in the man’s life. Maeve had recommended he visit the museum while they were corresponding, which he was more than happy to do, always trying to find a way to feel closer to her than he could actually be. Now his visits changed in nature, he was there to reminisce. To try and get the optimistic feeling of loving her to come back.

The stranger that usually walked around the museum with files in her hands went unnoticed for a while, but to her, Spencer had never gone unnoticed. She had been watching him his last four visits, visits that were a lot closer together than the usual visitors liked, which naturally, sparked her interest. She was drawn to him, always turning her head to check if he was there and her eyes lingering for a beat too long to try and come up with an excuse to start a conversation.

Olivia cared very little about dating and would usually turn down people’s advances, but as he sat there, earbuds in and basking in the sunlight the botanical garden side of the museum had to offer, she couldn’t help but hope he was one of those ballsy men that usually approached her. Apparently, the gods felt bad for Ollie, because as Spencer stood up to go, a book slipped out of his bag onto the floor. Oblivious to it, he kept walking.

“Thank the fucking gods” Ollie whispered to herself as she made a beeline for the book. Trying to reach the tall guy, she elbowed her way through the people walking in front of her and tapped him on the shoulder. Play it cool, dork.

“Hey” she said trying to get her breath back. “You dropped this back there” She tried not to fixate on the way his curls looked with the sun shining directly on them, or on the way his eyes took in her presence.

“Oh, thank you so much” He rushed out, grateful that he didn’t have to lose the last thing that connected him to Maeve and cursing himself for being so careless.

Make conversation, now. Say something. Anything. “I take it that’s important, you look relieved” she giggled to try and appear chill. Failing miserably, of course.

“Um, yeah. It was.” Beat of silence. “It is. It was a gift” He answered looking down at his feet, holding on to the book like it might disappear if he doesn’t.

Now, genuinely relieved she could spare him the disappointment, Ollie looked up at him. “Then I’m really glad you didn’t have to lose it” She replied, mirroring Spence’s thoughts, which made him smile.

To the doctor, looking at her felt almost offensive to Maeve’s memory, like she could see him staring curiously at this kind stranger whose eyes were enticing enough to make him forget how to talk. His best friend JJ was the best at reading his expressions and figuring out what he was thinking, she was smart enough to know Reid felt guilty for wanting to move on and leave the pain behind, so she made sure he knew that no one expected him to act like a widower forever, not even Maeve. After all, no one tells you how long you’re expected to mourn a loss, there’s no unspoken rule of appropriate sulking time. 278 days later still felt like too soon and just about enough at the same time. Strangely enough, he wanted to keep talking to this girl, and it would have to start with an introduction.

“I’m Spencer”

“I’m Olivia, but please call me Ollie” or call me anything you want.

“Ollie, good” he let out a giggle that was uncharacteristic of him to say the least. Mainly because he had never made it this far into a conversation with someone as pretty as Ollie. “You work here” It wasn’t a question, he noticed the plaque pinned to her shirt that read Dr. Olivia Vega, Conservator.

“Yes, I’m one of the conservators here. I know I might not look like it, but I promise I know my stuff” This observation prompted Spencer to give her a once over and he smiled at how right she was. She was wearing black cargo pants and a simple lavender t-shirt she seemed to have cropped herself, her arms were covered with little tattoos and her dark hair had streaks of purple in it. She was a sight to see, and hadn’t she been so kind and smiley, Spencer would’ve been intimidated by her. “My mom always says I look like I dropped out of high school to form my own punk band” She added, interrupting his train of thought. “I kind of agree with her now that I think about it, but I have a doctorate in history and that’s not very punk”

“Well, I’m a federal agent but I look like my grandpa, so I’m right there with you”

You do not look like a grandpa. “A federal agent, huh? The wall-climbing, gun-shooting, vest-wearing kind?”

“Sometimes, yes. But I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit so the work I do revolves around profiling people, we try to narrow down the suspect pool by studying the way the crime was committed and making educated guesses about what kind of person would do that and the possible motives behind it. I also have doctorates, but not in history” He said, glad he could sound cool in front of what appeared to be the coolest human ever. Maeve doesn’t mind you moving on, he repeated to himself.

“Judging by the fact that you didn’t introduce yourself as ‘Doctor so and so, but you can call me Spencer’ I think you’re nice and not full of yourself” Ollie joked. “I would have been super intimidated if you’d lead with that”

Is she a witch or am I thinking out loud? “You should see the people I work with. I look like a 12-year-old boy compared to them” She erupted in laughter, causing Spencer to blush. “I’m not kidding, they call me ‘kid’ and ‘pretty boy’”

They got that right, you are pretty. “No way, my older co-workers call me ‘kid’ too! And I’m their boss. The least they could do is call me Doctor Kid.” She pretended to pout.

A mom with a stroller trying to walk past them made the two realize they were still standing in the middle of the path, so entirely entertained with each other that they didn’t notice the third-grade class that had just passed them. As if the realization had struck them both at the same time, they looked back at each other, both of them trying to stretch the interaction as long as they could.

“Do you, maybe, want to have this conversation somewhere else? Perhaps not in the middle of the crowd?” She asked hopefully.

Taken aback by the offer, Spencer agreed and followed her back to her office, that looked exactly like he would expect it to. A bunch of framed pictures with friends and family covered the wall to his left, she had a jean jacket full of pins hanging behind the door and a bunch of miscellaneous books on a bookshelf right behind her desk, all of them with post its sticking out and what he assumed were her bookmarks.

After offering him coffee, they talked about all the things they had in common and relished on the things they didn’t. It was refreshing to get out of their heads and talk about something other than what stage of grief they were in. Spencer was glad that Ollie had approached him first, otherwise he wouldn’t have met her or even know she existed. A text from Penelope brought him back to reality and he sighed at his phone when he read it.

“I have to go, we got a case” He said, annoyed.

Ollie tried to mask her disappointment with an airy laugh, “Oh those fucking serial killers, so rude of them to interrupt our conversation”

Come on, Spencer. Say you want to see her again. Maeve doesn’t mind. Faster than he could process, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I want to see you again” He declared; eyes wide, afraid he came on too intense.

“Well, what a coincidence. I want that too.” She smirked, thanking the gods for all the love they seemed to be showing her today. She took a bright pink sharpie from her drawer and scribbled her number on Spencer’s palm. “Please, don’t wash your hand before you save the number”  She hoped she hadn’t blown her cover as the chilliest most relaxed person ever with that one sentence that sounded like she was begging him to call her. He took out a little white card from his bad and handed it to her.

‘SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit’. Two phone numbers were displayed along with the FBI logo. Which made Ollie look up to question it.

“Bottom one is my personal line; top one is the work phone” He anticipated the question.  

The shit eating grin he was wearing did not go unnoticed by her friends back at the BAU, but he brushed them and their raised eyebrows right off. This whole thing with Ollie was his to keep. At least for the moment.

That night, even though spent in a dingy motel a few minutes out of Redding, Pennsylvania, Spencer slept better than he had in 278 days. He wasn’t an outgoing person at all, he didn’t ask for numbers, he didn’t agree to have coffee in some stranger’s office, he didn’t text bright pink numbers sloppily written on his hand. But maybe the way they met was a sign that he should, maybe, no matter the outcome, he wanted to see where this led. Not even sure what this was.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I didn’t wash my hand” sent at 2:13 am.

“I mean, I did. Just not until I texted you” sent at 2:13 am.

Back at her own apartment, Ollie made a mental note to go visit Lia so she could hear all about the handsome man she had met. Following the advice her therapist had given her, she took out the notepad she had devoted to the letters she wrote her and started writing what she would give anything to be able to say to her face.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Step 5: Establishing a Relationship

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Establishing a Relationship

Now that your relationship has begun, you must learn how to truly become a partner. Establishing and maintaining the relationship will require constant work, as both parties will change and evolve through life. However, committing to a growth mindset and learning how to compromise will make the relationship extremely rewarding.

_____________________________

There was a scratching at their bedroom door. Ron looked up from the fifth chapter, Establishing a Relationship, to see an orange paw gently prodding the door open. Crookshanks bounced across the room and hopped into the bed, assertively nudging Ron's hand away from the book.

Five years ago, Ron probably would have pushed the cat off of the bed. Heck, if Hermione was awake right now, he would have done the same. Instead, with a sideways glance beside him to make sure Hermione was soundly sleeping, he moved the book off of his lap so Crookshanks could curl up there instead.

The purring cat melted into Ron's hand as he scratched him behind his ears. "Hey, buddy," said Ron affectionately, as Crookshanks began kneading his shirt with his claws. He rubbed his face against Ron's hand, and Ron moved down the cat's spine, until he stuck his rump straight up in the hair. Cats are weird, he thought.

It had become their little routine. Every time Hermione fell asleep before him, Crookshanks would find his way to Ron to soak up every ounce of affection Ron would give. In the early days of their relationship, Crookshanks didn't want anything to do with him, hissing and swatting when Ron became the focus of Hermione's attention, his competition. When Ron was alone with the cat, or Hermione was asleep, limiting the cat's affection options, Crookshanks slowly warmed up, allowing Ron to pet him for a few minutes at a time. Over time, they had become best friends by night, but played each other's enemy by day. Ron hated to admit how much the creature had grown on him since third year.

Reluctantly becoming a cat dad wasn't the only indicator of their status as boyfriend and girlfriend. Eventually, introducing Hermione as his girlfriend stopped feeling awkward, and he no longer felt the need to casually mention her at work parties, simply so he could practice using the new term. He knew the shift had been made when Hermione received a wedding invitation addressed to both of them by name, rather than the former "Hermione Granger and Guest", and when his mom knit them matching Christmas jumpers one year.

There were simple things he had mastered by becoming involved with a Muggle-born witch. Learning to order food with the telephone, and to pay for it with the correct amount of muggle money was a larger project that he had anticipated- a project fit for a boyfriend-, and nowadays he insisted they order out at least twice a week, because using the phone was so much fun. Although he thought her obsession with true crime shows was mental, he learned how to record them on their television, and he now understood how to navigate the train system that connected their flat with the airport, so he could pick up Hermione's parents when they flew into London for holiday visits.

There were more complicated things too. When he became adept at using the internet and researched the symptoms of a panic attack, he learned that he was supposed to stay calm and promised himself he'd never raise his voice in fear if it ever happened again, and even though he knew it hurt her, she understood that he would never want to celebrate their anniversary because it fell on the same day that Fred died. He learned that they would occasionally screw up, and say the wrong thing, and that sometimes being Ron and Hermione meant that they wouldn't always feel like best friends. But most importantly, he learned that he couldn't push her away during difficult times, especially if he ever expected her to lean on him in return.

******

The morning after the battle, Ron and Hermione, along with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys went back to the Burrow. Even though there were more people than usual at home, the old house still felt unsettlingly empty. At first the only one who reacted to Ron and Hermione's new relationship was Crookshanks, who suddenly had to compete with another man for affection. Otherwise, they did their best not to draw attention to their new status, and Hermione seemed to fade into the background with Harry, while they tried to make themselves helpful guests so the family could grieve and make preparations for the funeral. So as thrilling as it could have been, becoming Ron and Hermione happened at a bad time to assure a smooth transition. Unfortunately, there was no chapter in 12 Fail Safe Ways To Charm Witches about navigating a new relationship while mourning your dead brother.

He didn't feel charming at Fred's funeral, when he sobbed into Hermione's arms, dripping tears and Merlin knows what else into her hair. He had hardly spoken to her or touched her in days. When they managed to find some solitude in his attic bedroom, and he tried to get lost in kissing her, he often became overwhelmed with guilt. He didn't feel charming when he pushed her away, turning his back to her so she didn't see him crying mid-snog, because all he could think about was how his brother would never get to kiss a girl again. He avoided her every time he felt like he was going to cry, because Hermione would try to make him feel better with a hug, and she deserved someone who didn't respond to her touch with anger, grief, and tears. He couldn't avoid her seeing him cry at Fred's funeral, so he sobbed violently against her as she stroked his back, and tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head that told him he was asking too much from her.

After the ceremony he sat on the dock by the pond, because he couldn't bother to hear anyone's condolences again. She found him there, and nestled up against him, dangling her feet into the water, and didn't say anything. Then he cried again, because she didn't say anything, and that was exactly what he needed.

He never returned to the house that night. He stayed on the dock, Hermione brought him a plate of food, and they ate in silence. The sun set, and she reached into her bag, and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey that she'd smuggled from the alcohol cabinet in the living room.

He raised his eyebrows when she unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip. She winced as it went down, then handed the bottle to Ron, who did the same. They passed it back and forth wordlessly, until it was dark, and the world was blurry, and his eyes were tapped out of tears. Then he finally talked. Without inhibitions, he told her how guilty he had felt being with her that whole week. He said he'd give anything to go back to the day before Fred died, even though it was before Voldemort was killed, and before they had even kissed. He told her he wasn't sure if he'd ever truly feel happy or complete again. She cried with him, and he was grateful he had someone who was willing to share in his burden. She cast a cushioning charm on the dock, and pulled blankets out of her bag, and they settled into a comfortable embrace before Ron drifted off to sleep, thinking that if he was doomed to a life of unhappiness, at least it would be with Hermione.

He woke the next morning to the blinding sun, a raging headache, and Hermione in his arms. She was awake, and she smiled gently at him when he turned to her.

"Morning," she said softly.

"Morning," he grumbled back. He attempted a smile but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Do you feel ill?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial. "This might help."

He uncorked the vial and dumped the pepper up potion into his mouth. It helped immediately. He looked back at Hermione who grinned again, before lovingly tucking his hair behind his ear, the same way he did to her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He couldn't help himself asking the question, as he'd been ignoring her, shutting her out for days.

She looked momentarily hurt. "Because I'm your girlfriend," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Aren't I?"

He felt stinging tears and he tugged her close. "Of course you are." She hugged him back, the tears spilled from his eyes, and they felt like Ron and Hermione again. He allowed himself both to cry with her and kiss her, because maybe he could grieve and love at the same time.

No one came looking for them that morning, and for that Ron was thankful. Something about the closure of the funeral, and echo of the word Hermione had used to describe herself, girlfriend, made today feel like the start of a new chapter.

"When are we going to Australia? To find your parents?" he asked her, to be met with a smile and an embrace that he returned with genuine enthusiasm.

******

They took a portkey to Melbourne less than a fortnight later. As a token of thanks for all they'd done to end the war, and his promise of a pardon for any illegal magic performed defensively, Kingsley had arranged for a team of Australian Aurors to help locate her parents. They had done so rather quickly, as there weren't too many recent British expats practicing dentistry in Victoria. Nearly as soon as they arrived, they were given a folder containing the address of their home and dental practice. After renting a hotel room near their St. Kilda residence, the only thing left to do was reverse the memory spell. Ron assumed it would happen the next day, but it didn't.

He was surprised, yet somewhat pleased, at her suggestion to explore the city first. They'd never traveled together for fun so he wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to eat kangaroo burgers by the beach or take a romantic stroll through the botanic gardens. It was actually quite nice to practice acting like a couple in a different country, where no one knew who they were, what they've done, or that they weren't together just a few weeks ago. He could hold her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, or pull her in for a kiss on the pier without worrying about a wolf-whistle from a brother, or worse, a talk about safety from his dad. They spent an entire week ignoring their agenda, and Ron started to wonder if she was avoiding the task ahead. He knew she was when she suggested they ride the wooden death trap that muggles called roller coasters at Luna Park.

"What if, instead of that," said Ron, gesturing toward the roller coaster with his rapidly melting ice cream cone, "We go find your parents."

Hermione continued to stare straight ahead from their place on the bench. She shook her head.

"What's going on, Hermione."

"What do you mean?" she asked unconvincingly.

"The museums, the restaurants, the dates," he attempted in a casual tone, as he took another slurp of his ice cream. "I'm having a great time, don't get me wrong. But you know we'll eventually have to see them."

He looked over at her, but she was still staring blankly ahead, He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to react. To say something.

"We can't avoid it forever, you know."

After a few moments of tense silence, her breathing became shallower, her face deepened in color, and the ice cream cone fell from her hand and landed in a splat on the concrete between them.

"Hermione, are you ok?" asked Ron.

She shook her head as she lowered her face into her hands, as her breathing picked up it's pace. "No….," she exhaled, but couldn't get any more words out before she was overtaken by full bodied sobs.

"Hermione?" he said hurriedly. "What's wrong?"

He tried to reach an arm around her shoulders, but she shoved him away, the adrenaline providing much more force than necessary. She continued to sob and shudder, before placing her hands on her throat, remindnig Ron of a fish out of water.

"Hermione, you're worrying me. Please tell me what's going on."

Ron's words didn't seem to register with her. He looked around him to check if they had drawn the attention of anyone, but the deafening sounds of laughter, carnival music, and screams from the roller coaster muffled them from anyone who might have stepped in to help.

"C'mon Hermione, answer me," he said a little more forcefully, now feeling panicked. Logically he knew she would answer him if she could, and that thought made him want to hyperventilate too. "Just breath, Hermione! Please-"

Her sobs suddenly became raspier, and her body continued to heave as if trying unsuccessfully to pull in more air. Her face was turning redder every moment, and then without warning, she leaned forward and threw up on the concrete before them. Ron stared at her wide-eyed, as she gasped for air and returned back to her sobs, but this time they sounded deeper and more nourishing. He tentatively reached his hand to her again, and this time she didn't flinch when he pulled her closer, so her head rested on his shoulder, smearing tears, and sick, and Merlin knows what else onto his shirt, but he didn't care. He was just glad she seemed to be breathing.

They didn't talk about it. When she finally came around, she hurried off into the nearest public loo, and Ron waited there as his unfinished ice cream cone dripped down his hand. When she returned, there seemed to be a mutual understanding that it was time to return to their hotel. So they did.

When they arrived, Hermione, still looking embarrassed, immediately opted for a shower, and Ron thought it would be a good time to try ordering room service. After all, he was part of Hermione's life now, and if he couldn't protect her from whatever just happened at Luna Park, he should at least learn how to use a telephone.

******

A few days later, Hermione finally agreed to find her parents. Fittingly, it was raining on the day they knocked on her parent's front door. They gave each other a quick glance, and before the door opened, Hermione slipped her hand into his. He heard her take a deep breath before they saw the doorknob turn, and they were suddenly face to face with the greying features of Mr. Hugo Granger.

"Can I help you?"

They had planned this moment, but like many things in their recent experience, it didn't go as expected. They didn't plan for Hermione to freeze, caught up in the emotion of seeing her father for the first time since the war. Neither were prepared for the lack of recognition in his face.

"Hi Dad," said Hermione softly, as Ron grimaced at her giveaway.

"Excuse me?" said Hugo Granger in confusion. "Dad?" Before Hermione could backtrack, the tension was broken by a large golden retriever that came bounding up to Ron.

"Hey buddy!" said Ron, as he leaned down to scratch the dog's ears.

"Herman! No!" shoulder another voice. "Hugo grab him!" Jean Granger appeared behind her husband, reaching for the dog..

"Right," said Hugo, with a lingering look of confusion at Hermione before he turned his attention to the dog.

"Hermione, now," whispered Ron. She nodded, and while her parents were looking down, she withdrew her wand and aimed it right at them.

"I'm sorry, he's still a puppy and doesn't know how big-," Jean paused mid sentence, before slowly returning upright as Hermione's counter charm took effect.. "Hermione?"

"Mom," whispered Hermione.

The expression on Jean's face turned from affection, to confusion, to anger, before landing back on affection. She opened her arms, and Hermione collapsed into her embrace.

Ron looked at Hugo, who had also risen to his feet, but his eyes were focused on Ron, not on the two women embracing beside him. Ron was unsettled by the fact that he couldn't read his expression at all.

"Ron Weasley, if I remember correctly," he said curtly.

Ron nodded.

"I'm sure there's a very good explanation."

Even though it wasn't a question, Ron nodded again.

Hugo then broke their eye contact and turned toward his daughter, reaching his hand out to embrace her too.

Ron simply stood back with his hands in his pockets and observed the moment Hermione had been worrying about for the past few weeks. She was sobbing again, but this time it didn't concern Ron at all. He felt a cold, wet nose brush against his leg, and looked down to see Herman wagging his tail. For something to do with his hands, and because Herman was pretty cute, he crouched down to pet him.

"Also… Herman?" he heard Hermione ask once she had broken free of her parents' embrace. "Sounds a lot like Hermione."

"I guess our memories were just a little too strong. They pushed through," said Hugo stiffly.

"I'm so sorry," wavered Hermione. "Will you let me explain?"

"Of course, honey," said Jean, embracing her daughter again.

Ron, who was still busy petting Herman, suddenly felt Hugo Granger's eyes on him again. "The dog sure seems to like you."

Ron anxiously looked up, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Hugo was grinning at him. "Yeah, well," shrugged Ron. "I really like Herman."

Hugo chuckled. "How about a drink?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Ron quickly, but a quick look from Hermione made him backtrack. "Er, actually, a drink sounds good."

Hugo was already pouring him one. "Well come on in. We've got a lot to catch up on."

An explanation was due soon, but the Grangers took that night to reconnect with their daughter. To Ron's pleasant surprise, he was welcomed into their home like he was family too.

He was even more surprised when he sat on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance from Hugo Granger's daughter, and she simply inched closer to him so that they were knee to knee. She smiled brightly at him, and gratefully patted his knee in a way that she never had when they were just friends, and he smiled back before taking a sip of the stiff drink that Hugo had poured for him.

It could have been that smile, or the fact that he was suddenly thinking of Hermione as Mr. Granger's daughter. Or it could have been Hugo's suspicious eyes and Jean's excited grin when he tentatively slipped his arm around her shoulders, but that day, he truly felt like Hermione's boyfriend, and he knew they would figure everything else out later.

[gabriel-agrestes-toupee]

Felix | Gabriel Agreste Thought-Piece

Gabriel’s defensive tantrum. Let’s talk about it.

(First of all, I really want to point out the visual symbolism of the first part of the scene, where Gabriel -- a tall and imposing figure who usually address his son coldly with his hands behind his back -- actually sits down beside him, on Adrien’s level/line-of-sight when going to talk about Emilie. He’s literally leveling with Adrien, treating him with the sort of respect a father would give his son when discussing things of a more sensitive nature. It’s not until he’s angry that he stands up and imposes over Adrien again.)

The Stages of Grief - Where do Adrien and Gabriel stand?

The Five Stages of Grief seem like a cliche at this point when applying them to shows, but it’s really only because it’s a great psychological measure that its use is so common. There’s a spectrum that comes with people who are grieving, but you’ll find it’s a sliding scale between steps more often than not. Considering the level of devotion he's at with his wife (especially on the "anniversary" of her disappearance) and his temperamental nature, his reaction to Adrien’s Gabenath-approval was more of a defensive act on his part rather than outright ignorance.

Adrien has had a healthier progress along the stages of grief, and though he loves his mother, he's more than willing to see his father move on if he's happy. He’s emotionally healthy and an empath -- not only displayed with his father but later on, with Felix -- and although the end of the conversation ends on a sour note, he assures Plagg that he understands why his father acts the way he does.

Widow/ers who lose their partners typically have troubles moving on immediately, even after years have passed, because they feel like they're betraying the memory of their loved one or those around them. Gabriel's stuck far from recovery, and he has been for a year, because he thinks he can save his wife. He feels close enough to the goal that she's alive to him, and even entertaining moving on with Nathalie makes him feel as if he's having an affair or betraying her.

The Reaction - Unadulterated Devotion

Gabriel’s immediate reaction is indicative of his emotional position. He's surrounded by memories of Emilie everywhere (her sister, her family, the house, the painting, the sculpture, her actual body), that there's absolutely no feasible way he can just move on, at least to him. He’s nowhere close to acceptance, lingering between denial and anger to keep himself motivated to continue his quest for the Miraculous. He refuses any alternative that strays from his main mission of putting Emilie first at this point, lashing out when things get too present for him.

G: There’s something important I have to talk to you about. I think about telling you everyday, but I can never find the right words.

A: I think I already know, Father

G: But... how?

A: I’ve noticed how close you and Nathalie have become. If she can make you happy again, then as far as I’m concerned, she’s already part of our family

When Adrien offers his support -- and his belief that his father and Nathalie have been carrying on together -- it shocks Gabriel to the point where his immediate reaction has to be anger. He hasn’t allowed that to be a real possibility by not acknowledging it, so when confronted, the first thing he does is shell himself away. The open body language disappears as he gets up off the ground and angrily towers above Adrien.

G: How could you possibly think such a thing? Nobody could ever replace your mother! As long as she is still in our hearts, she lives on!

He’s not actually angry with Adrien and it isn’t a direct dismissal of Nathalie. It’s a stubborn defense against a perceived allegation of his own slipping loyalties to Emilie.

To us, it's obvious, because we're not in his shoes or his emotional state. Yes, Nathalie is the proper choice for his happiness, and if it’s gotten to the point in-universe where someone like Adrien can pick up on the emotional shift and connect it to Nathalie’s involvement in Gabriel’s life, there are positive changes that are happening in the house. Acceptance is easier said than done, though. When Gabriel lashes out, it’s his way of expressing that.

He holds an undying dedication to those he loves. To have it questioned not only grabs at his pride, but offends who he perceives himself as a character. To him, the ends justify the means no matter the cost. If his intentions are called into question, it undermines his goal of bringing his wife back and restoring the family.

There’s about 15+ years of history between Gabriel and Emilie. The ‘accusation’ of him moving on from her after a year -- especially if there's a chance to bring her back -- appalls him, and you see that in his reaction in Felix.

Gabenath - Felix serves as the bridge we were looking for

Gabriel and Nathalie’s blossoming relationship had never been anything spoken about in-universe, for good reason. On Gabriel’s part, all he could afford to go along with was the subtext that came along with caring for her, holding her. As long as things were never said, they never had to be acknowledged.

One of the more important things to come out of the conversation in the garden -- as riveting as a psychological analysis on a grieving widower is -- is Adrien’s verbalized encouragement of Gabriel moving on and finding happiness with Nathalie. It has far-reaching effects that are clear with hindsight of the three episodes that come after Felix chronologically. Adrien’s support for Gabenath cuts one of the few tethers Gabriel had anchored himself with when pursuing his goal for Emilie.

Ladybug was a huge development towards Gabriel’s path to skewed priorities. As an “ends justify means” man, watching him forfeit his best chance at the Miraculous twice in one episode in favor of going to Nathalie’s aid was a complete 180*. Loveater and Miracle Queen were both so full of Gabenath content ( ranging from unnecessary touches from both Hawkmoth and Mayura, embraces, sweet nothings, adoring gazes) that everyone sat and went, “Okay, when the hell did they hook up?” 

Adrien’s idea of a good ending is seeing his father cope, come to terms with, and move on from the ever-present ghost that hangs over the Agreste manor, and begin a new stage of his life with Nathalie. There’s no doubt that because Adrien brought their developing emotional-affair into the light, Gabriel was forced to consider his son’s feelings and perceptions. Maybe the contact we’ve seen in the future comes partly out of the subconscious acknowledgement of Adrien’s approval. Maybe Gabriel can feel less guilty indulging in the more tender moments he and Nathalie share together.

After all, if Adrien is just as happy having Nathalie around to fill the space Emilie had left, what reason is there to bring her back?

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Here’s Confidence Man! Sawyer is all wishy washy with Amelia in this episode, but it turns out for good in the end :) Enjoy!

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Confidence Man

I’m sitting on the beach as always. My stay at the cave was less than comfortable and I don’t understand how any of those chumps think it’s a good place to “dig in.” Sawyer wasn’t around when I got back, so I changed my clothes and sat down in my usual thinking spot. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of Kate hauling bananas up the beach. Then it hits me, Confidence Man. Oh shit. I scramble to my feet and intercept Kate before she gets too far.

“Hey Kate!” I greet as I approach her, “Need help with those?”

Kate looks relieved as she begins to gather them up and hand them to me, score, “Oh would you Amelia? My back’s killing me.”

“Yeah no problem!” I answer, taking the bananas and slinging them over my shoulders, “Where do you want them?”

Kate points down the beach, past where there’s a small pile of clothes and a book, “Just down there is fine.”

“Okay! Cool, see you later Kate,” I say and Kate walks away from me. I start to make my way towards where I know Sawyer’s clothes to be.

I make it and smile when I find Sawyer's clothes and a paperback edition of Watership Down.

“Hell of a book,” I hear Sawyer call from the ocean, “It's about bunnies.” I sigh in relief, the interaction is the same.

I look Sawyer up and down as he comes out of the water naked, and I feel a blush creep over my face. “Must be cold without your trunks,” I say, making no effort to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“You bet. How about you come a little closer and warm me up?” Sawyer replies with a cheeky grin, and I half want to do what he says.

Instead I feel myself shaking my head with a smile, “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Sawyer.” And with that I walk away to where Kate said the bananas were supposed to go.

I wait until Sawyer trails off into the jungle before I go hunting for a book. I need something to do other than sit on the beach all day getting a sunburn. Except, I don’t find myself getting burnt, or even remotely tan for that matter. Probably more Island magic, or maybe it’s TV magic doing the work in this weird reality I find myself in. I strike gold, Of Mice and Men, works for me. I read it in high school once, so I think it’s about time I read it again.

I sneak out of Sawyer’s tent and into my own, tossing the book aside to open the flaps of my tent. Once they’re secured I settle down on one of my airline seats and open the book to chapter one. Not a few minutes into the book I hear a rustling sound outside of my tent. I sigh and put my book aside before popping my head out of the tent. Oh, it’s Boone.

“Boone?” I call and he shoots his head up, hands full of Sawyer’s stuff.

“Uh Amelia- It’s not what it looks like,” Boone says, panic clear in his voice. Then Sawyer shows up.

“What are you doing in my stuff, son?” Sawyer interrogates.

“Uhhh,” Boone tries to answer, but Sawyer sucker punches him right in the nose. I yelp in surprise, they didn’t show this in the show.

I scramble to my feet to try and get Sawyer off Boone, but he pushes me away and I fall in the sand. This sets Boone off, and he tries to punch Sawyer back. I cry out again when Sawyer’s fists connects with Boone’s nose. He starts bleeding and rushes at Sawyer again, but Sawyer catches him and punches his face. Suddenly Shannon is there and Sawyer is off and away from Boone. Shannon scrutinizes me and drags Boone away, to the caves. I stand up in a hurry.

“What was that for!” I shout at Sawyer and he waves a hand at me dismissively.

“Sawyer..” I plead, brushing the sand off my pants. “Why did you have to hit him? And why didn’t you stop?”

“He was going through my stuff,” Sawyer gruffs, not looking at me as he puts his things back in order.

“You didn’t have to react like that,” I reply calmly.

“Betcha knew I would do that,” Sawyer grumbles.

“What?” I ask, but I know what he said.

“Nothing,” Sawyer replies, but he pauses as he looos through his stuff, “Did you take a book.”

Guilt floods my stomach as Sawyer turns to face me, “Yeah..” I mumble, “Of Mice and Men…” I look down, unable to meet Sawyer’s eyes. He’s already in a bad mood from Boone, and even if I know he won’t hurt me I’m still a bit afraid.

“Just give it back when you’re done,” He says and I snap my head up. Sawyer is already walking away and I just stare at him in disbelief. At least I know he has a soft spot for me.

A little while later, Sawyer comes back to our tents in a huff. I don’t remember why he’s so petulant in this episode. Probably because it’s his centric episode and the writers have to show what a “bad guy” Sawyer is. Lucky for me I know that he’s nothing but a big softy with a lot of grief at the end. Sawyer sits and starts to read his letter, and I can almost feel the air turn sour.  He then pulls out a cigarette and begins smoking it. I shake my head and suddenly Jack shows up and starts going through Sawyer's stuff. Sawyer folds his letter fast and I stand up.

“Where is it?” Jack demands.

“Hey, Doc. Long time no see,” Sawyer says casually and I walk over slowly.

“Jack?” I ask, sounding remarkably like Kate. But Jack ignores me.

“Where is it?” Jack spits.

“Where's what?” Sawyer shoots back, dropping his false nice tone.

“The girl's asthma medicine. Shannon -- her inhalers.”

“Oh, that.”

“You attacked a kid for trying to help his sick sister.”

“No, I whooped a thief cuz he was going through my stuff,” Sawyer huffs.

“Sawyer!” I call, feeling indignant. He ignores me too.

“Yours?” Jack says with a small laugh, “What makes it yours? What, you think you can just take something out of a suitcase and that makes it yours?”

“Which I had to move because everybody just wants to help themselves,” Sawyer interjects, “Look, I don't know what kind of commie share-fest you're running over in cave town, but down here possession's 9/10ths. And a man's got a right to protect his property.”

“Get up,” Jack threatens.

“Why, you want to see who's taller?” Sawyer jests.

“Get up.”

“You sure you want to make this your problem, Doc?”

“Oh yeah. I'm sure,” Jack says, his voice full of malice.

Sawyer finally gets up. Just as he does Kate enters the tent with a side glance at me. My arms are crossed over my chest and I huff in the direction of Jack and Sawyer. She seems to get the message, at least I hope she does.

“Hey, what's going on here?” Kate asks, but no one answers her. Jack just walks away, and Kate follows. With one last withering glance at Sawyer I turn on my heel and follow them.

“I'm going to kill him,” I can hear Jack say as I run up to the both of them.

“That's not going to help us get the medicine,” Kate reasons then turns to me, “Hey Amelia.”

I raise my hand in a small wave and then bend over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

“Maybe not, but it'll feel good,” Jack replies and then nods to me. I nod back.

“So what's stopping you?” Kate asks.

“We're not savages, Kate. Not yet,” Jack replies in a dark tone.

“Let me talk to Sawyer,” I cut in, stealing the line from Kate. Jack turns to me.

“What makes you think he's going to listen to you?” Jack asks, putting his hands on his hips like he always does.

“I think we have a connection,” I say, looking over at Kate. She doesn’t look at me, she’s staring down at the sand with a hard expression.

“Do you?”

“Please.”

Jack raises his hands in defeat, “If you can find him, be my guest.” I nod and he and Kate walk away. I do feel guilty every time I steal a line, but how else am I supposed to make myself relevant? I’m not supposed to be here, and I’m manipulating things to make sure I don’t sit around on the beach all day.

I walk away from where we were all standing, and amble my way towards where Sawyer is chopping wood near the end of the beach. I sigh to myself as I walk up behind him. I lean up against the tree he’s under and wait a beat. Sawyer chops a piece of wood and I clear my throat.

“What do you want?” I ask, and Sawyer turns his head to look at me.

A smile plays on his face as he answers, “Excuse me?”

“What do you want, Sawyer?” I repeat, and he just shakes his head and turns back to the wood.

“Blue eyes, I got so many answers to that question, I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“What do you want for the inhalers?” I sigh, because I know the answer. Sawyer seems to know this too.

“Ah, good question. Hang on a tick. What do I want? A kiss ought to do it.”

I feel myself stumble back, “W-What?” I choke out, I wasn’t expecting that answer. Sawyer turns around.

“A kiss, from you, right now?” He doesn’t seem serious, but the fluttering in my stomach makes me want to believe him. He’s just playing mind games with me.

“Why not from Kate? Don’t you like her better?” I ask as confidently as I can as I cross my arms over my chest.

“But you’re right here blue eyes, what’s a man to do?” Sawyer croons and I take a step back as he steps forward.

“I don't- I dont b-buy it,” I stumble as I speak.

“Buy what?” Sawyer asks.

“The act,” I say as I take a deep breath to steady myself, “You try too hard, Sawyer. I ask you to help a woman who can't breath and you want me to kiss you? Nobody's that disgusting. I know you, you know.”

“You don’t know jack, stop saying that,” Sawyer spits at me. What did I do to deserve this treatment?

“That piece of paper -- the one you keep in your pocket,” I begin, “I know the expression on your face when you read it and I know how carefully you fold it up. I know it means something to you. So you can play games all you want, but I know there's a human being in there somewhere. Give me the medication.”

“You think you understand me?” Sawyer asks menacingly.

“Yeah. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I say confidently back.

“Shut up,” Sawyer says and I flinch at him, “You want to know what kind of human being I am?” He takes the letter out of his pocket and hands it to me, “Read it. Read it. Out loud.”

“James I already-” I try to say.

“No. Just read it,” He growls and I realize it was a bad idea to call him by his real name.

I take a deep breath and begin to read, out loud, “Dear Mr. Sawyer, you don't know who I am but I know who you are and I know what you done. You had sex with my mother and then you stole my dad's money all away. So he got angry and he killed my mother and then he killed himself, too.”

“Don't stop now. You're just getting to the good part,” Sawyer cuts in sarcasally.

“All I know is your name. But one of these days I'm going to find you and I'm going to give you this letter so you'll remember what you done to me. You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer,” I finish reading and I look at my feet. Maybe I provoked him too much.

“Now about that kiss... I didn't think so,” Sawyer says and he walks past me away from the wood. I sink into the sand next to the tree as I swallow the burning feeling in my throat.

Trudging back to the beach I notice Sawyer gathering up some things. I know he’s going to the caves, and he’s going to get punched. I run up to him.

“Wait Sawyer-,” I call as I approach him, “I want to go with you.”

“You don’t know where I’m headed,” Sawyer says coolly and I shake my head.

“The caves? To get water?” I offer with a feigned air of confidence.

“Fine, get your pack and some water bottles and let’s go.”

“Great, thanks,” I reply, feeling annoyed.

We walk through the jungle together for a while before Sawyer even speaks up. I was beginning to wonder if he was going to freeze me out.

“Why do you keep coming around?” He asks, keeping his eyes straightforward on the path.

“Well um, I know that you’re making an enemy of people on this Island and I want to be a.. a fall back?” I offer weakly. While it’s not a lie it’s not the complete truth. I want him to trust me and not get upset with me.

Sawyer just lets out a huff as we make it up to the caves. We walk over to where the water is and Sawyer bends down to get some. I keep my eyes away from the people in the caves as Jack approaches.

“Give me the inhalers -- now,” Jack demands to Sawyer, not even looking at me.

“Hell, I wondered when you were going to stop asking nice,” Sawyer drawls as he makes to stand. Jack lunges in and punches him. I flinch and make a noise.

“Well, it's about time, cowboy. Been telling you since day one, we're in the wild. Didn't think you had it in you,” Sawyer taunts and Jack punches him again.

“Hey! Stop it you two!” I yell out, the others in the cave glands at me but the two men ignore me.

“That all you got?” Sawyer huffs, flicking his sweaty head out of his face. Jack stops and looks around, noticing that everyone is watching him. He shakes his head and walks away. Sawyer breathes heavily and stares daggers at the cave people.

“C’mon Sawyer,” I say quietly, filling up some bottles and leading Sawyer out of the caves to make our way back to the beach.

After Sawyer and I made it back from the caves. We both settle down next to one another on the airline seats outside of Sawyer’s tent. Sawyer decided to take a nap so I decide to continue to read Of Mice and Men. It’s weird, though, sitting silently next to Sawyer as he sleeps and I read. I think forward to the Dharmaville days ahead, and I hope we’ll be able to do it more. Then my stomach turns and I remember Juliet. I scratch the back of my head and tuck into my book.

A few minutes later I hear crunching in the sand. I look up from my book and see Sayid approaching with a large metal pipe. Sayid holds a finger up to his lips to signal silence and I scramble out of my seat towards him.

“Sayid you can be serious!” I loud-whisper to him, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him.

“He did this to himself,” Sayid replies, pushing right past me to poise the big metal pipe over Sawyer's head. Sawyer jerks awake and without a smile Sayid says, “Good morning,” and slams the pipe down onto Sawyer. I let out a yelp in protest.

Then Jack shows up and begins to gather Sawyer out of his seat. Then he and Sayid begin dragging Sawyer away. I run up beside them, and Kate soon joins us.

“What are you doing? Jack!” Kate yells.

“This was Sawyer's choice, not mine,” Jack says stoically.

“If you do this!” Kate begins, but her next statement is cut off. I feel something hit the back of my head and spots dance over my vision. I fall to the sand as black engulfs me.

I’m jerked awake by a wave of cold water being thrown onto me. I look wildly around and see Jack holding a bucket looking guilty. I look to my left and see Sawyer tied to a tree. Sayid splashes water on his face to bring him to.

“Well, ain't you the brave one, jumping a guy while he's napping,” Sawyer drawls and then looks between Sayid and Jack, “Uh-oh, I'm in trouble now, ain't I?”

“I guess we both are,” I mumble to myself and I notice Sawyer turn his head towards me.

“Sawyer, I'm giving you the chance to do the right thing. Now, all I want is the asthma medicine. Just tell me where the inhalers are and we'll stop,” Jack explains to Sawyer.

“Stop what, Chico?” Sawyer asks and I look over to see Sayid making bamboo spikes.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Jack tries to say.

“Yeah, it does,” Sawyer replies.

“No! It doesn’t, Sawyer please,” I try to beg.

“Oh and you’ve got blue eyes here too?” Sawyer asks with a chuckle, “I must be in a load of trouble then.” Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Sayid cuts in with a speech.

“We do not have bamboo in Iraq, although we do have something similar -- reeds. But their effect is the same when the shoots are inserted underneath the fingernails,” Sayid explains in a menacing voice, and I can feel my heart rate increase rapidly. I hate this scene, I hate this scene.

“You know what I think, Ali. I think you've never actually tortured anybody in your life,” Sawyer taunts, and I wince for him.

“Unfortunately for us both, you're wrong,” Sayid replies as he slowly begins to move behind Sawyer. I shut my eyes as Sayid starts with the bamboo under the fingernails.

“That's it? That's all you got? Splinters? No wonder we kicked your ass in the Gulf…” Sawyer begins to say, until Sayid shoves the bamboo into Sawyer’s fingernails and he screams. I let out a cry in pain as well just hearing him.

“Sayid. Sayid!” Jack calls, and Sayid stops.

“No. Don't stop now. I think my sinuses are clearing?” Sawyer pants, egging him on.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jack asks Sawyer.

“Perhaps a more indirect method will loosen your tongue?” Sayid asks and I know what’s coming. I open my eyes and beg Sawyer with him to stop. Sawyer doesn’t say anything and I whimper.

Sayid shifts to get behind me and my tied hands. I struggle with my bonds and try to get my fingers away from Sayid's hands. I cry out when he grabs my wrists roughly and slides the bamboo into them. I scream high and clear as color burns in my vision at the pain. I try to jerk away, but Sayid just tightens his hold.

Okay, okay!” Sawyer calls and I feel Sayid retreat. I collapse into the tree and begin to sob.

“Where is it?” Sayid asks harshly.

“The only person I'll tell is her,” Sawyer replies.

“Amelia?” Jack asks but Sawyer shakes his head and realization washes over Jack, “Kate?”

“That's the deal,” Sawyer says finally. Jack and Sayid move away from the spot to go to get Kate. I turn as best I can to Sawyer.

“Why?!” I shout, trying to overcome my sobs. “Why did you let him do that to me James why why why!”

“Keep your voice down,” Sawyer growles through clenched teeth, “And I did it because I didn’t think Sayid would actually harm you. I was wrong.”

“Damn right you were wrong,” I choke out and lean my head against the trunk of the tree. Then Jack and Sayid return with Kate. Kate looks hard at Sawyer, but her expression softens when she sees me.

Kate shakes her head and turns back to Sawyer, “So I'm here. Where is it?”

“Happy to tell you, as soon as I get a kiss,” Sawyer replies cheekily. I knew it would come to this. He’s never going to kiss me.

“What? Are you serious?” Kate asks incredulously, not bothering to hide the tone.

“Baby, I am tied to a tree in a jungle of mystery. I just got tortured by a damn spinal surgeon and a gen-u-ine I-raqi,” Sawyer pauses and looks over to me, “Of course, I'm serious. You're just not seeing the big picture here, Freckles. You really going to let that girl suffocate because you can't bring yourself to give me one little kiss? Hell, it's only first base. Lucky for you I ain't greedy.”

“Okay,” Kate agrees.

“Okay,” Sawyer repeats. I close my eyes as Kate leans in and I know they kiss. I keep my mouth in a tight line to avoid from making any pathetic sounds.

“I don't have it,” Sawyer says, and then turns his head to me, “Blue eyes here probably knew that too.”

“What?” Kate blanches, looking between the both of us. I look away from her face feeling guilty. I tried to stop it.

“The medicine. I don't have it, never did,” Sawyer replies.

“The book -- they said you found it in their luggage.”

“The book washed up on shore, went in the drink with the rest of-“ Sawyer is cut off as Kate elbows him across the face. I make another sound of protest as she walks away toward Jack and Sayid.

I take my chance to slowly try and wiggle out of my bonds. I felt they tied it a little too loose, and I try to maneuver my fingers to get myself untied. I yank my hands away from the trunk and my wrists free themselves. I shake off the bonds and quickly scramble to my feet and make it to Sawyer.

“C’mon Sawyer let’s go-”

Suddenly Sayid is running towards us, and back to Sawyer. I turn my head as Sawyer is helping me loosen the bindings on his wrist. I intercept Sayid and try to fight him off away from Sawyer. Sayid makes a move to try to stab Sawyer in the arm. I intercept him once ahain, but at a cost. Sayid stabs me instead. I sob in pain and collapse into Sawyer’s lap. Sayid holds his arms out, like it was an accident. Jack rushes over to us as Sawyer tries to get me up. He supports me on his lap as Jack pulls the knife out, blood spurts out of my arm and I cry out again.

“You hit an artery,” Jack says and I wiggle around to, “Keep still damn it. Sayid, I need my stuff from the caves, my leather backpack. Go.”

Jack pinched my artery closed as best as he can as Sawyer’s hands steady themselves at my waist to keep me still. I drop my head back onto Sawyer’s shoulder and whimper quietly in pain.

“Can you make it stop?” Kate’s voice cuts through the panic that is filling up my head. Kate and Jack keep me still as Sawyer and help me switch places with him.

“Let go. I know you want to,” Sawyer taunts Jack and I try to give him a withering look.

“Shut up,” Jack says to Sawyer, “And stop moving”, he says to me.

“You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Now you get to be the hero again, because that's what you do -- fix everything up all nice,” Sawyer taunts again, and I really wish he’d shut up. This is my life on the line and not his, “Tell him to let go, Freckles. Blue eyes is just taking up the top spot as doctor anyways. Hey, Jack, there's something you should know -- if the tables were turned, and it wasn’t blue eyes, I'd watch you die.”

“Sawyer I really wish you’d shut up,” I say weakly, but everything looks blurry. The last thing I see is Sawyer’s concerned look before I pass out.

When I do finally wake up, Kate and Sawyer are there to see me. I scoot up a little more on Sawyer's makeshift seat-bed. Sawyer is the first to get up and come over, and Kate follows after him.

“You're lucky to be alive,” Kate says to me in amazement.

“Jack?” I ask.

“Went to the caves to check on Shannon,” She tells me and then turns on Sawyer. She holds up Sawyer's letter and he gives her a horrible look. Red hot guilt fills my stomach and throat, “I read it, and then again, because I've been trying to figure out why you beat up Boone instead of just telling him you didn't have his sister's medication. Why you pretended to have it anyway. The thing that I keep coming back around to is that you want to be hated. Then I looked at the envelope -- America's bicentennial, Knoxville, TN. You were just a kid, 8 maybe 9 years old.”

“Kate,” Sawyer says menacingly. Kate must’ve took it off me when they were taking me back to the beach. I look down at my wrapped arm and realize I’m only in my tank top.

“This letter wasn't written to you. You wrote this letter. Your name's not Sawyer, is it?” Kate asks and I try to sit up more. Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

“Kate wait-” I try to say, but Sawyer cuts me off.

“It was his name. He was a confidence man. Romanced my momma to get to the money, wiped them out clean, left a mess behind. So I wrote that letter. I wrote it knowing one day I'd find him. But that ain't the sad part,” Sawyer pauses and glances at me, “When I was 19, I needed 6 grand to pay these guys off I was in trouble with. So I found a pretty lady with a dumb husband who had some money. And I got them to give it to me. How's that for a tragedy? I became the man I was hunting. Became Sawyer. Don't you feel sorry for me,” Sawyer grabs the letter from her, “Get the hell out. Get out!”

Kate gets up and walk away without another glance at me. Sawyer watches her go with an awful expression on his face. I slowly lower myself onto the bed, now feeling light-headed from sitting up. I must’ve lost a lot of blood.

“Sawyer I didn’t know she would find it,” I say weakly, bracing myself for an explosion from Sawyer.

“Not your fault,” Sawyer replies simply, still looking away from me. I stare at him surprised.

“I took a knife for you,” I say and he finally turns around.

“What?”

“In the original series,” I explain, “You’re the one who gets stabbed. I don’t exist.”

“Lucky you,” He replies simply and settles back into the chair next to the bed. I turn on my back and stare up at the ceiling of the tent.

The sun begins to set and I look out across the beach to see Sayid and Kate talk. I remember that Sayid is leaving, and I smile a bit to myself. It’s odd how even though I changed things, everything seems to course correct. I watch as Sayid kisses Kate’s hand and then turns to walk away. I turn my head to Sawyer and see him hold a lighter up to his letter, but hesitate.

He turns his head and catches my eye, and I give him a reassuring smile. He nods back at me and turns away to look at the ocean. I smile to myself some more and begin to hum “I Shall Not Walk Alone” as I remember from the episode's end.

LOST

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Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in updates!

[bnha-ra]

Lily of the Valley ||BNHA

A/N: HELLO LOVIES! IT’S YA GIRL, SKINNY PENIS- THE AUTHOR! If you guys are veterans of this account you know that this blog was birthed because I had a reader story on Quotev and guess what? IT’S GETTING A FUCKING COMEBACK! A REPRISE because I hated my writing on the original, oop not only a name change, but the lore has also (slightly) changed! So, I hope you enjoy!

Themes: Superheros (obviously), superpowers, fighting, romance, etc.

Summary: How it all began and then some

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter! Maybe some tension but that’s about it!

Tags: @prismaroyal​ @undead0relived​

It was the only thing ringing through her head as she curled deeper into herself, her face, earlier bruised and bloody but was now wet with fresh tears, was shoved into her knees and her shaking arms were wrapped weakly around her shaking legs. With each tremble of her already defeated body she seemed to only hug herself tighter, reducing what should have been ear piercing wails into silent sobs, way too spent to even scream about the atrocities she had seen and the things she had lost.

Life...wasn’t fair.

She understood that now. Those little words she had heard adults whisper under their breath with exhaustion or teens cry out in anger. Of course, she understood what the words meant, she was smart enough to realise much more than people bargained for, however, what she didn't understand was the meaning behind the phrase, why people would say it, why people thought it.

Well, until now.

Because they were right, life wasn’t fair.

It was much more crueler than anyone could ever imagine.

The shouting from earlier had stopped. Whoever was outside the hospital room had fallen silent a little bit ago. Either they were whispering now or they had just stopped altogether, it was finally quiet and she could finally suffer in peace, without the screams of adults promoting the painful squeeze of anguish from their choked cries or their weeping.

When the door opened she didn’t look up, no, she stayed in her position in the corner but withheld her crying as the person made it over to her side, sliding down the way to sit themselves next to her and sigh, their hand slowly winding into her hair to give it comforting strokes and tug her head to rest against them.

“Little Wildfire” The child flinched at the name, but raised her head, eyes catching the older man’s who held a incomprehensible grief but understanding sympathy to them “I have a question for you, sweetheart”

She nodded hesitantly.

The man cleared his throat, facing back to the closed door which she followed, finally spotting the other elderly woman who watched, eyes glossed in tears.

“Do you want to come with us-” He gave her a comforting squeeze when the girl sniffed, stuffing her head deeper into his side “-or, do you want to stay here?”

She glanced down at her lap “...will you be upset if I said I want to stay here?”

“No, mia bella bambina” The woman spoke this time, walking into the room and kneeling before her, taking the child’s hand in her own and kissing the skin of her palm “Never”

The lass glanced between the two adults, eyes slowly beginning to gloss over with no found tears as she let out a shaky sob, heart clenching “I don’t want to leave Mamma alone”

The two brought her into a hug, sharing heartbroken tears with the child while they sat on the hospital floor, filled with great grief in that moment. The people outside watched with a similar sadness, heads bowed in despair and chests aching at the scene. It was a painful moment, seeing a family so broken, seeing a child’s perfect life shattered so quickly as though it was glass.

Life really wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, (Name)....”

---

“Yagi!”

(Name) jumped in her spot from the stands, face snapping up to meet the choir teacher’s while the other girls giggled, muttering amongst themselves or sending dirty looks her way. It wasn't her fault that their teacher was still droning on about regionals, to her, it had stopped being relevant when the woman started to, once again, go off about the schools rival; (Name) didn’t care, the others didn’t care so why did the damn teacher still go off about it? 

‘Talk about obsessed’ She thought as she continued, finally getting to the end of her big speech.

“I expect you to be here at the same time next week!” The witch spat, “Dismissed!”

‘Jesus Christ- FINALLY’

The teen practically sprinted towards her belongings, running out of the room despite her teacher’s call and pulled out her phone from her blazer pocket, scrolling through the contacts until a familiar name popped up.

“Izuku!” She screamed into the receiver when he answered, feeling a guilty pang at her volume before quickly shaking it off “I’m so sorry! I had choir practice! Are you home yet? If not, we can go to that new hero cafe that’s opened recently! I’ll pay-”

During her sprint, flowers began to sprout from the ground beneath her due to the excitement rushing through her. She had been waiting for ages to finally take him there, Midoriya Izuku, her Quirkless best friend and the most obsessed fanboy she had the luck of knowing. Childhood friends, you see, glued together by youth and fondness for one another, something that she was thought she was so lucky for.

There was something else there too. A hidden desire, one that festered when she was still young, the obligation to protect him, to keep him from any harm that may have fallen upon him.

Ah, she was getting ahead of herself.

The joyful smile faded from her face, her steps slowing to a halt as she listened to him talk; a familiar feeling of sympathy blooming in her chest when she spoke again, glancing around the street that she had found herself.

“Where are you?....” She nodded when he responded “Okay, I’m nearby. Wait. There. I’ll be there soon and I want you to tell me what happened, no buts”

(Name) didn’t even give him a chance to respond, only ended the call with a tap and once again began her sprint, though, faster than she had before.

---

“....He really said that?”

Midoirya nodded into his knees, glancing over to his best friend from the corner of his eyes and flinching at the sight of anger spreading over her face. (Name) let out a shrill cry, jumping to her feet from the spot next to him and pacing before the other teen, face scrunched up in rage with words spewing out of her mouth faster than he could comprehend, well, almost.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he say that! You can’t say stuff like that to your fans- you have to consider their fucking feelings! I don’t care if he thinks it’s realistic- show some damn decency to people who respect you! The bastard-”

“(Name), it’s okay” Midoriya shrugged his shoulders, standing back to full height with hers and his own bags in his hands “It doesn’t matter, he was right anyway-”

“Don’t you say that, Midoriya!” (Name)’s hand was pointed towards him in warning, “You can be a hero if you try, there are heroes with weak Quirks so why can’t someone with no Quirk be a hero? Huh? HUH?”

“Well-I-”

“I AM HERE”

The voice came suddenly and loudly from behind the girl, the two teens jumping in surprise causing (Name) to twist round, both watching as a blur skidded to a stop before them and posed, revealing just the person that the female had so desperately wanted to exchange a few words with.

“All Might, how-” Midoriya had barely gotten the words out when (Name) spoke, eyes narrowed dangerously with poison dripping from her lips.

“You”

All Might had the gall to look confused “Me?”

“How dare you!” Midoriya screamed when (Name) raced towards the hero, her leg flying to meet his shin with vigor, only to howl in pain when it connected, hand coming to hold her wounded toes before she began to send punches his way instead, not caring in any way that the man was not affected, only watching in slight amusement as she continued her barrage of blows in her rageful state. “My friend deserves to be a hero more than you could ever understand! You bastard! How dare you say he can’t-!”

“Please, calm down, (Name)” The hero laughed, placing his hand against the girl’s head and pushing her back, (Name) still continuing to swing.

Midoriya stood in shocked silence, watching the scene with growing confusion.

‘How could All Might know (Name)’s name!?’

“Calm down? Calm down!? No! You are such an arsehole, Toshi! I expected better from you-”

‘TOSHI!? WHAT!?’

The greenette stuttered, trying to find his words as he continued to watch the scene before him. All Might eventually deflated with a huff, coughing blood into his hand while (Name) continued to shout at him, too clouded by her anger to realise Midoriya was walking up to her until a hand was placed on her shoulder and she spun, her glare vanishing with a gulp at her best friend’s befuddled gaze on her.

“Crap” (Name) muttered.

All Might just laughed.

“I think we owe young Midoriya an explanation, don’t we, (Name)?”

“Is something wrong, (Name)? You seem occupied”

The girl jumped from her spot behind the receptionist's desk, eyes snapping up to meet Dr Nakamura’s before a bright smile grew, though her hand came to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment from the scare.

“It’s nothing, sir! I’ve just been training a lot harder recently so I’m kinda tired, that’s all”

The older man nodded, his ears twitching in contemplation as he rifled through the chest of draws behind her, no doubt looking for a file.

It wasn’t a complete lie. While the U.A entrance exams were still ten months away, it didn’t mean she could slack off, no, she needed to get in as much training as she could before the trials, both going through physical exercise and mental. U.A was a school that only took the best of the best, just like Shiketsu and if she wanted even a chance at studying to become a great hero at any of the two she needed to up her game, because she was positive that if she wasn’t at her best, she would be beaten with no regarde.

However, that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

Dr Nakamura pulled one of the files, flipping through before turning back to the girl with a sharp toothed smile “Well, I wouldn’t expect less from one of our next future heroes”

(Name)’s face grew hot at the compliment and she laughed, “Thanks, sir”

“No problem, kid” His hand ruffled her locks playfully “Don’t overwork yourself, okay? If you need any breaks from work I’ll be sure to give them to you”

He walked away with a wave, entering into another room to leave her alone with her thoughts once again.

Truth be told, she was thinking back to a few days ago and the secret she had been swore to keep underwraps.

“Wait, so, just correct me if I’m wrong” Midoriya’s face was much calmer than (Name) expected, much much calmer. She honestly anticipated screaming, maybe faint if it were a worse kind of day, which from hearing about it, it sounded like it was, but instead, he was calm, eyes shining with curiosity and confusion.

“Ever since your mother was taken-....was comatosed…and your father….died” (Name) hugged herself at those words, trying to ignore the feeling of grief stabbing at her heart “You haven’t been living with relatives but...heroes…real life heroes?”

She nodded.

“That’s so cool!” (Name) looked at him with surprise plastered all over her face. Midoriya took her expression in a negative way, curling into himself with shame “I mean, you already lived with a pro hero before- b-but you’ve met some of the most powerful heroes in Japan! Counting All Might that means the world! Oh my Gosh, I mean- uh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that-”

(Name)’s voice was meek when she spoke again, eyes shining with unshed tears “I thought you would be upset….”

“H-huh!? Why!?”

“Because I never told you…”

Confusion took over his face once again and he tilted his head to the side, “Why would I be upset over you protecting yourself?”

(Name) choked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt” All Might’s hand landed softly on (Name)’s back, moving in soothing circles as he continued, eyes centered on Midoriya “But young Midoriya, your answer?”

“Oh! Right! Uh…” The greenette glanced between the two, both sending him back encouraging looks in return before he released a breath, expression adopting one of determination.

“I accept your power, All Might!”

The hero smiled “I knew you would”

“Oi, (Last)” For a second time that day, (Name) jumped in her seat, looking up to see two familiar boys staring back at her. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, Koji, Hitoshi, Hi!” (Name) began to type away at the computer before her, hoping to ignore the questioning stare from Koda and glare from Shinso when the purple haired boy rolled his eyes in exasperation “You guys finally catch those troublemakers running about?”

Shinso presented the box, (Name) standing to glance in from over the desk and smiling at the sight of the mother cat surrounded by her children before she gestured over to a room nearby.

“Ms Hamada came in a little earlier, why don’t you take them to her”

“Was planning to, but first we gotta show you something"

(Name) brows furrowed “What?”

Shinso nudged Koda softly, prompting the boy to set down his own box. His large hands disappeared into it before pulling back out with another small kitten in his hands who mewled softly towards (Name), pawing at the air.

“Guys, you’re not supposed to separate the young!” She chided, reaching out for the animal who was handed to her, (Name) rocking the animal gently in her grasp and staring pointedly at her friend who cowered back “You both should know better!”

“It’s not from the pack” Shinso responded, nodding to the other box “This was left outside and it’s a little….different”

“Different? How so-...” From her hands, a shifting sound caught her ears and she looked down, the kitten in her hands now replaced with an otter pup who cooed at her. 

“...huh”

---

U.A really was a wonder.

(Name) hadn’t really been there a lot, probably a handful of times as she aged, but she hadn’t properly experienced the feeling of excitement passing through the front gate, other examinees walking nearby, no doubt in the same boat as her, glancing around in amazement.

The school were the greatest pro heroes were born and trust her, she had proof of that in the contacts on her phone. She just hoped that all of her hard work during the months would work in her favour, that she would grab her place at this amazing school and she would begin her journey of becoming a great hero.

Just like her mother had been.

(Name) shook her head, hurrying her pace to the front steps of the school. The recommended students took their exams a month before the actual exam, she believed? Meaning she was alone, no Midoriya by her side to push her forward, to reassure her she was set. Although it was the same for him, if she did pass this exam of course, he would be alone too-

‘Ugh, get a hold on yourself-’ 

(Name) let out a yelp when she ran into someone’s back, apologies dropping from her mouth while the person turned, staring down at her.

He was a huge, mountain of a man with dark buzz cut hair and beady black eyes that seemed to glare straight back into her soul with a unyielding fire that made her gulp nervously and take a step back, her animal instincts clawing to kick in, screaming at her that she was no match for this predator, that she should run while she still could. Then he straightened up, his head flying downward until it smashed against the pavement, body bent over in a bow and practically screaming, gaining the attention of the other examinees.

“I’m so extremely sorry for getting in your way! I promise it won't happen again!”

“Hey, hey!” (Name) cried, hands flying up in a panic “You don’t need to apologise I bumped into you! I’m really sorry about that”

The boy snapped back up, his grin broad on his face and blood running from the small cut on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, you’re bleeding!” Without another though (Name) pulled out a packet of tissues she kept within her jacket, leaping up to tend to the wound, using the air to keep her stable just barely. She really needed more training on that. “Here you go, you should be more careful”

“Woah that’s amazing you’re floating! What’s your Quirk?! Is it like mine!?”

(Name) couldn’t help the laugh she let out “I don’t even know your Quirk, friend”

The boy beamed “It’s called Whirlwind! I can control wind currents and manipulate them however I want! Now you!”

(Name) dropped back down, hands landing on her hips with a smile “Well, my Quirk is called Nat-”

Remember, (Name), keep a low profile. No one can know who you really are, that means no using Nature outside of training.

“-I mean, Element! meaning I can control any kind of elements around me! So, kinda similar to yours”

“Wow, that’s so cool! I’m Yoarashi Inasa!” Yoarashi lent out his hand for her to take, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, Yoarashi, I’m Yagi (Name)”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yagi!”

“Please, call me (Name)!”

“Okay, (Name)! Call me Inasa!”

Seems like this exam won’t seem so bad afterall.

---

It was better than imagined. Yoarashi was a ball of sunshine, standing tall and bright, encouraging those around him despite knowing absolutely nothing of who they were. It was nice, especially due to the fact she didn’t have a lot of friends, having someone by her side inspire her to do better than she thought she could do. He believed her even though he didn’t know who she really was, he thought she was strong only after about an hour of knowing each other and it was...nice.

She really hoped he got the spot here, he deserved it.

The written exam had been an hour and fifteen minutes, all decent material and she was positive that she had passed it with flying colours and now it was time for the physical part of the test, then finally, the interview.

Present Mic’s booming voice was actually soothing to her, probably because of the time he spent after the atta- accident, helping to pull her out of the dark she had buried herself in. The hero was a rock in her life for a long time and she admired him for just as long. He sent her an encouraging wink at the beginning of it all, throwing an extra thumbs up her way before it had all started and she was grateful for it. It was nice that he was giving her extra support, even if he wasn’t really supposed to at that moment.

“Good luck, Inasa!” The giant smiled, throwing a thanks over his shoulder as he got in position for the race.

A sudden coldness surrounded her and (Name) shivered, blinking in surprise when it suddenly got darker.

“You’re in my way, move”

Now usually, (Name) wasn’t one to talk back, actually, she was kind of scared of talking back to people because who knew what they were capable of! But in that moment, those words had just made her angry, so angry in fact that she turned around to face the culprit of such a rude demand, hand poised in a point motion to jab them in the shoulder “Excuse me? Why don’t you watch your fucking tone....”

They stared back at each other in surprise, both sets of eyes wide with recognition.

“I don’t need your pity! Leave me alone!”

(Name) swallowed the heavy lump that was forming in her throat and blinked back the tears that dared try to blur her vision.

“S-Sorry Sho-...Todoroki” 

Then she walked back to her spot on the sidelines, wiping away the wetness from her face while Todoroki shook off the feelings that plagued him and took his spot in the race.

This was gonna be a long day.

---

Finally, finally, it was time for the interviews. 

Yoarashi had seemed tense after his race, eyes glaring pointedly towards Todoroki as though the smaller teen had stabbed him in the heart and left him for dead. It was kinda odd, especially with her new friend being a pillar of sunshine and greatness, like a giant puppy out to give everyone love, but he had ultimately relaxed when she appeared next to him, stroking his arm gently and asking if he was okay.

“Oh I’m fine!” He had replied, patting her on the head “You’re next right!? Come on, I know you’ll do great!”

(Name) ignored the stare on her back when he led her back to the other participants.

“Please enter”

A breath was released before the door was pushed open, a large office revealing itself to her with a familiar small rodent sitting behind a desk, smiling towards her and gesturing to shut the door. (Name) did, slowly of course, the chattering of other examinees disappearing along with the outside when she walked over, bowing politely in greeting.

“Principal Nedzu, it’s an honour to see you again, it’s been a while”

Nedzu bowed back in return.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Last). Please, take a seat”

(Name) did as she was told, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over her body at the sinking plush of the cushioned chair. The animal rifled through the many ID forms before landing on the one he needed, her own, and settling it to the top of the pile and smiling kindly towards her.

“Well, Miss (Last)” Nedzu started “Tell me a bit about yourself”

(Name) caught herself before she could say anything, wringing her hands on her lap “I-....what is there to say? You already know a lot about me, Nedzu”

The principal nodded in agreement before leaning forward, smile still as kind as ever “It is true that I know who you really are, what your Quirk is and much about your younger life. However, what I really want to know is why are you here today? What made you take the recommended entrance exam? Why, after what you’ve seen first hand, would you want to experience the life of a hero?”

Trust (Name) to know that curiosity. She still asked herself that everyday. Why, after experiencing such a traumatic tragedy would she still want to become a hero and face something that horrible, that life shattering every single day of her life?

(Last) (Name), why did you want to torture yourself for the rest of life?

“Simple” The girl started, eyes shining with a light that Nedzu had only seen with a few heroes in his lifetime.

 “I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did”

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter 3: Small Tears

Word Count: 15k

It's been almost two months. Two months since she has had any contact with her husband. Today he was finally coming home. Alma thinks it would be naïve of her to think things would be okay. Him being home would solve anything that has happened. It wouldn't change anything that has happened.

Alma is understandably nervous. She thinks this is the first time she has been this nervous to ever be around Jax. She is more nervous than when she had to tell him that she was pregnant.

She also doesn't know where his head is going to be, which worries her. They had to handle the grief of losing a child on their own. Jax wasn't even there to hold their son or to say his goodbyes. She is scared that Jax may resent her for the loss.

Days have gotten easier. It is still hard, but she had Nathan and Kaylee to help her get through all of it. She still wasn't over it, but they helped her through the grieving process. Jax was alone and with his thoughts. He had no one to share his grief with. Not even one letter was shared between the two of them.

"Sweetheart, you are going to get premature wrinkles." Gemma says as she walks up next to her. They are under the awning as they wait for the guys to pull up. "Stop worrying. He is coming home and everything will work itself out."

Alma is only able to give her a closed lipped smile. After all, she knows Gemma has been more privy to things regarding Jax's case. She thinks that is the only reason why Gemma has been so calm these past two months. Alma thinks she would be calm too knowing that despite the absence the Feds had kept him in protective custody. It's just Jax is coming home to a family that is grieving – to a wife that had lost their child.

"I'm just…I just want him to be okay." Alma tells her mother in law.

Gemma wraps her arms around her shoulders. "He will be. He is coming home to his family. I'm not saying it will be easy, but things will be okay. It'll take some time."

Alma nods her head. She knows this. She knows there will be an adjustment period.

Soon they hear the growls of bikes approaching. Nathan and Kaylee replace Gemma's presence. Kaylee's fists scrunch the edge of her dress. Kaylee's hair is done in elaborate space buns with a bright pink floral dress and glittery pink sandals. Alma forms a smile at the thought of Jax's reaction to the explosion of pink. "You nervous, baby?" Alma asks.

Kaylee looks up at her mother. A shy smile is on her lips. This is the first time Kaylee has ever witnessed a prolonged absence of Jax that didn't last longer than two weeks. Even then Jax made sure to call.

"Daddy is going to be really happy to see you. He missed you a lot."

"He missed me lots?"

Alma smiles. "Lots."

"Mom, I see them!" Nathan shouts from where he is standing in the middle of the lot before rushing back to her side.

The family watches as the growls of the bike become louder. Clay is in front of the line and Jax is right there behind him. He doesn't follow the rest of the procession to their designated spots. He stops in front of the awning.

He barely has time to take off his helmet before the kids are all over him.

"Daddy, I missed you so much!" Nathan and Kaylee both exclaimed. Jax hugs them both tightly. He doesn't let go for what seems like a minute. The kids don't seem eager to let him go either.

Jax pulls back and smiles. "You two need to stop growing up." He tells them both. "Let me say hi to your mom okay."

The kids nod as he stands up to his full height.

Alma takes a deep breath.

Her husband is here and in front of her. She thinks her legs might buckle. He is there smiling at her and he is alive. The only remarkable difference is his hair that brushes atop of his shoulders.

She notices his eyes linger on her stomach and she can see the tension in his neck before he meets her eyes.

They both step towards each other at the same time. She hugs him first, her arms circling around his neck tightly. His arms wrap around her waist and she can feel him lift her up off the ground a few inches. She can feel the tears building.

She feels him exhale and it seems some tension leaves his body before she feels his hands tangle in her hair. He pulls her head back and she finds a burning kiss pressed to her lips. It's all tongue and even the clashing of teeth as they become consumed by each other.

"Jax –" Alma whispers brokenly.

He presses a softer kiss to her lips that silences any words that were going to come out of her mouth. He drops her back down lightly to her feet and another kiss is pressed to her forehead.

He steps away from her and greets his mother.

.

.

There is something off with her husband.

The smile on his face seems genuine, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Ever interaction between them from his hands tracing her curves and the kisses pressed to her head felt empty.

Alma isn't sure what to do. She is hoping it is just him needing to adjust. It has only been a few hours since his release and he is being tossed around like a newborn baby. It's probably a shock to his system to have to put on a front. After all, these men know what is like being stuck in prison and despite the mental trauma; they still think they can bury it inside a woman's pussy. She knows that all the men expect her to give Jax a very welcome home.

She would be more than happy if she could feel she recognized her husband a bit. She could be overthinking as well. They are in public and if anything it isn't a crime to ignore pressing matters for a bit. She just needs to revel in the fact her husband is home and her kids are happy.

With a new beer for her husband, the bottle is rapidly sweating in her hand as she reaches him. He is sitting back in the old worn out plaid couch with Chibs and Bobby hovering. The other hang arounds make a path for her, but Jax stands up before she is even halfway.

He takes a beer from her hands and leads her over to where his father's bike is. Her stomach forms butterflies if Jax really thinks he is going to take her back to a dorm to fuck her. It is not like she is above a clubhouse hookup, but she isn't sure she is up for one now. But he stops in front of the bike. He places his beer on the top of the memorial.

He isn't looking at her. He is looking past her. "You should take the kids home before Tig scars them."

Alma's brows furrow. That was the last thing she expected. "I mean…are you sure. Are…you going to follow?"

Jax's hands find home on his hips. "I'm gonna stay a bit."

Alma feels her heart against her rib cage. The twisting in her gut makes her want to vomit. A thousand thoughts are running through her mind and none of them are flattering to her husband or what he may be implying. She feels guilty for the thoughts of accusations sprouting in her mind. She wonders if Jax is deliberating ignoring how his words are coming across or maybe he simply doesn't care.

She licks her lips and tastes the salt from the tequila shots Luann had somehow convinced her to take. "Jax…"

"It's going to be a late night, Al. Don't wait up alright."

Alma is flabbergasted as Jax doesn't even let her reply as he walks away. He doesn't allow any type of resistance as by the time her feet are able to follow his path, he is already putting the kids in her car.

.

.

.

Two months he had to wait for this day. Two fucking months. He is surprised the club didn't handle it as soon as they discovered the truth. Yes, there was a witness to the murder of Hefner. Jax didn't inquire how they handled the young 17 year old apparent mistress. It wasn't his concern. However, the RICO case only had its roots because Kyle Hobart had ratted.

He got caught in some stolen vehicle parts scheme and once the police saw his priors and connections to the club, the Feds swooped down. Kyle only cared about saving his own ass.

Jax throws back a shot. He just pressed a swift kiss to Alma's cheek and to his own mothers as they left the clubhouse party. He is ready to handle this piece of business.

"You ready to handle this?" Clay asks him.

Jax nods his head. "Been ready for two months."

"He's at the cabin. Happy is already out there with the Prospect. I'll have Tig follow ya up."

Jax shakes his head. "Nah, you don't need to drag Tig away from the pussy buffet. I'll keep the Prospect and send Happy back down."

Clay eyes him behind his sunglasses, but doesn't voice an opposition. "I'm glad you're home son. The sooner you do this, the sooner you get home to Alma and the kids."

Jax nods his head and embraces Clay in a hug before he leaves.

.

.

.

Jax makes it to the cabin close to 11. He finds Half Sack keeping watch out front.

"Welcome home, Jax," Half Sack greets as he makes his way to the steps.

Jax nods his head as he enters the cabin. Happy is cleaning his gun and Kyle is tied up in a chair. He watches as the man's blue eyes widen at the sight of him.

Now, the club wasn't stupid. They didn't keep Kyle for the whole two months. Happy did keep surveillance on Kyle up until two days ago when Stahl had exhausted her resources in keeping him safe. Happy had swooped in and brought Kyle here.

Jax's nostrils flare at the man tied up. He just wants to put a bullet in the man's head. He just knows that it would be too easy. He wouldn't get the right satisfaction. Besides, in the end, he only has requested one thing to do tonight. He will let Happy have his fun. After all, he has a wife to get home too.

Jax takes off Kyle's gag.

"Hey, Jax…" Kyle says hesitantly.

Jax ignores him as he grabs two items from the table. "Knife or fire?"

"Jax. Please, I'm sorry."

"Answer me."

"Fire." Kyle mutters weakly.

Jax nods at Happy. Happy gets up from his chair as he grips Kyle's hands and links him to the hook happy probably installed just for this. Jax turns on the blowtorch as Kyle hangs from the hook like a piece of meat.

Jax doesn't know if it is just mean or mercy when Happy splashes the man's back with gasoline.

Kyle passes out in the first minute. Happy slaps him awake repeatedly through the whole process. Jax takes a break after 45 minutes. Half Sack is in the background lighting candles and opening windows. Kyle convulses on the hook from pain while Happy sharpens his knife.

"I feel killing him is too easy, Hap." Jax says breaking the silence.

This man broke their golden rule. It was bad enough he got Opie in prison, but then he tried to add more years to that sentence and have Jax rotting in jail too. And not only just him, Kyle could've taken down the whole club. Kyle made him miss the birth and death of his second son. And Jax blames Kyle for Alma having the miscarriage in the first place.

"Don't worry, VP. It won't be quick enough." Happy promises.

Jax nods his head. He walks over Kyle and quick his prone form. His face pinches in disgust at the slobber escaping from the man's mouth. He slaps him awake.

Kyle groans and whimpers in pain.

"Prepare to meet the Reaper."

That brings Kyle into full consciousness as he begins to struggle in his binds. Jax brings out his gun and for some catharsis, he shoots the man in the jaw. I think Happy won't have to hear him scream, but Happy probably gets off on it.

Jax sighs and makes his way to the door. "I'll have Alma make you some Masitas and Bunuelos," he promises Happy on his way out the door.

.

.

It took a while to get the kids settled down from their disappointment of Jax not putting them to bed, but somehow Alma was able to do it. She had been able to dodge questions of where their father was at. She soothed their worries about what him not being there could mean and she did the one thing she swore she would never do and promised that their dad would be there in the morning. She wasn't even sure he would be. Her mind didn't want to venture too far into where Jax was sleeping tonight.

She had treated herself to a nice relaxing bath and she had let the disappointment settle in her bones when it was nearly midnight and Jax still wasn't home. She decided for just this night she would live in denial and pretend things were fine. Things were normal.

She knows she hasn't been asleep for long when she feels warm insistent hands tugging at the lacy fabric underneath her nightgown. At first she tries to slap the hands away before her groggy mind catches up to what is happening.

"Jax?" She whispers as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes.

"Hey, darlin'" he responds as she finds his lips molding against her.

She is taken back and her mind can't really enjoy the comfort of it as he pushes her back into the mattress. She wants to get lost in this feeling – in him. Her body wants to. She is already sensitive enough as he grinds against her and the friction of his hands over her silk dress has her breasts aching for more.

She can feel how much he wants it and as her legs move to accommodate him better, she finds no barriers between them on his end.

She whines as she feels him tearing her underwear. He knows she hates it when he does that. She can feel him smirking against her lips as he ruts against her. Her hands reach up to his hair to pull on it in retaliation when she is taken back at their dampness. She pulls back from his kiss, which only makes him move to her jaw and neck. She cranes her head to look at the clock, which reads 4 AM.

She is not worried about the shower per say. She is worried about why he is home so late.

Jax goes to meet her lips again and she can feel his fingers between her legs. She closes them the best she can and pushes him back, "Stop."

Jax pulls back immediately. "What's wrong?"

Alma huffs and she sort of regrets stopping now, but the words are out. "Where have you been?"

Jax is silent and he leans back away from her. "Does it matter? I'm here now."

Alma swallows the lump in her throat. This isn't her husband. "The…the kids were upset you weren't here, Jax."

"Well I had some things to take care of." He retorts as he moves off the bed.

"Like what?" Alma presses.

Jax doesn't say anything as he gets off the bed and ruffles through some drawers before finding some basketball shirts. "You know…all I wanted was to come home and fuck my wife."

Alma sucks in a breath. Her cheeks and eyes burn from his words. "Fuck you, Jax. All I am asking is a simple question. Fuck a croweater for all I care."

"I was handling Kyle." Jax tells her darkly. "For ratting and for Ben."

Benjamin Luis Teller

That was the name she decided for their son. The name of her grandfather on her father's side.

Alma looks at her husband and doesn't know what to say.

"I could've killed Stahl that day when she told me what happened." Jax reveals to her. "I wasn't there for you. I wasn't there for our son."

"Jax – "

He shakes his head. "I'm tired."

He climbs into bed and he keeps his back to her.

.

.

.

Alma isn't sure if she really fell asleep. One minute it was dark and the next her eyes were blinking to the morning sun. She leans up on the bed and turns to look behind where Jax is still sleeping. His back isn't towards her anymore. He has moved to his back. The duvet is pooled down to his hips and his left arm is thrown across his chest.

Alma isn't sure how she should take what happened between them last night. They had their tiffs before, silly fights that never really mounted to nothing and would end up with them laughing at the stupidity of it all. Last night was different. It was colder than before.

Alma moves from the bed as she grabs her robe to cover her nightgown. She doesn't want to linger in her bedroom for too long considering it feels like a stranger is in her bed.

She leaves the bedroom and makes her way to the kitchen to begin prepping for breakfast. She jumps startled at the sight of her son up drinking a glass of orange juice. A sheepish look on his face and a pain shoots through her heart as Nathan looks like his father in that moment. If she had a photo album she can find the exact photo of a young Jax wearing the same look.

She folds her arms across her chest. "What are you doing up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep," Nathan replies as he shrugs his shoulders.

Alma raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't press her son. She walks further into the kitchen as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. She presses a kiss to the blonde hair he is trying to grow out to match his father's.

She holds her son close. He is her first baby and he is growing up so fast. She feels if she clings to him, she might be able to find that piece of Jax she is missing.

Since the loss of Ben or even the moment of Jax being arrested at their front door, Alma is scared for the future.

"You want to help with breakfast?"

Nathan nods his head.

Alma smiles and presses another kiss to his head.

.

.

He heard the footsteps before they even reached the door. He feigned sleep as the door creaks open before tiny footsteps made their way to the bed. He fought to keep a blank look on his face as he felt the mattress dip. The struggle on the bed was heard from grunts before a silence took over the bedroom.

Jax waits as he can feel the shadow looming over him.

He waits a few seconds before he strikes.

He opens his eyes, "Got you!"

His little girl screams in fright before erupting in giggles as he grabs her and begins tickling her.

Kaylee's cheeks turn red like cherries as her laughter fills the room.

"Daddy! Stop!" She gulps. "I am going to pee!" She warns.

Jax halts and looks at her with raised eyebrows. "We'll we can't have that now can we?"

Jax brings her into his lap and he holds her close.

He was denied holding his baby girl for two months. He doesn't want to let her go. Kaylee wraps her arms around his broad shoulders. He finds a wet kiss applied to his cheek. "I missed you, Daddy."

"I missed you too, Baby Girl." He pressed a kiss to her soft curly brown hair. "What you doing up this early anyways?"?"

"Mama made breakfast. We gotta go!" She exclaimed. "Nathan is going to eat all the French Toast!" Kaylee wiggled out of his hold and down from the bed as she ran to the kitchen.

Jax smiles before he collapses back on the bed. He knows he has some major groveling to do to Alma. Last night his behavior was uncalled for. He knows these couple of months hasn't been easy on her. It hasn't been easy on their marriage. Jax sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretches and groans from his bones cracking. He makes a detour to the bathroom before beginning his trek down the hallway.

Jax has to get familiar with the new house since he was arrested on moving day. For now, he looks at the massive display of family photos. However, his eyes pause over the smallest photo on the wall, which is of Ben's last sonogram when he had a beating heart.

.

.

Alma knows the kids were only somewhat behaved for breakfast because Jax was at the table. She didn't mind it. She was happy that they were a family again. She had been prepared for an awkward silence, but Kaylee could not stop talking. She even went on to inform Jax of her various bowel movements the past couple weeks.

Alma knows the kids are even more excited by the fact Jax will be home all day. Her babies are happy so that is all that matters to Alma at the moment.

She is drying all of their dishes for breakfast when she hears footsteps. Too heavy to be one of the kids, she turns to find Jax leaning against a counter.

"I noticed an extra bedroom has more nail stuff."

Alma furrows her brows. She dries her hands. She always had nail supplies on hand. She never thought Jax paid attention to the things she would buy pertaining to nails. However, a month ago, she had invested in new supplies. More salon approved materials to appear more professional. It did cost a pretty penny, but she has been getting more business.

"I've been doing more nails. Needed more things." She tells him.

Jax doesn't say anything for a couple seconds and the silence unnerves her more than his eyes burning into. "We having money problems?"

That question takes her back. Even with Jax away, he still gets his cut from the club. Usually they would hold it until his release and the only funds given would be for bills and change for other things. It seems from the start the club didn't trust old ladies to be wise with money.

However, Jax always let Alma in on how to wash, save, and spend money. Sure, Jax loved to splurge and spoil occasionally, but he was conscious. He was safe as if something happened the Feds could claim any assets of theirs being from dirty money.

Since Jax got locked up, Bobby had given her full access to Jax's cut per Jax's request. She knows she and Jax were not going to be hurting for money unless something drastic happened. Even then, Jax had made sure their kids would never have to struggle.

"No…no. Why would you think that?"

"It's practically a salon in there," Jax replies. "It's always been a hobby for you. That looks like a business."

Alma is confused. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"You don't need to work."

"I know that, but – "

"No, buts. You don't need to work. You don't need to be bringing in your nosey clients inside our house near our kids. You should be raising our kids, not focusing on a hobby."

Alma opens, but closes her mouth as she isn't sure how to respond to that. She thinks any response is caught in the hurt from Jax's words. Not once or ever has Jax spoken that way about her doing nails. He had always been supportive that this was something she needed for herself.

She doesn't understand where this is coming from, or why he is being so cruel.

She decides it's better not to even respond to him. She turns her back as she continues to dry the dishes.

She uses the towel to wipe her damp cheeks.

.

.

Gemma knows something is up. She knew the minute Jax and Alma walked through the doors. It's only been a week since Jax came home and she can see the small tears working their way between the couple – the family.

She knows Jax coming home wasn't going to be easy. Not after the loss of Ben, she knows her son is probably blaming himself and most likely that pain is probably being lashed out on Alma.

Gemma knows that is a result of Clay's parenting. She wishes Jax would've picked up the urge to write things in a journal like John. Gemma knows her family can work through this. She knows from experience.

Her main concern is Alma. She knows Alma is putting all her happiness onto the fact the kids are happy with their father being home.

If anything she knows Alma is taking the cold glares and tones from Jax until he can adjust back to being with her. Well, she thinks that. Sometimes, she isn't too sure of Alma's thought processes. She was only a kid when Jax knocked her up and she was a bride by 18.

Lord, if anything it reminds Gemma of the beginnings of her and John's relationship. She knows when she was about to be 25 she had hit a funk that Alma was probably toeing into. She wanted to be more than a mother and wife.

Then again to be 25 and to lose a child…Gemma's heart aches at the thought of Thomas and her grandson, Ben. Alma has been through so much in this life and she is scared that the way her son is acting will unravel everything.

Knowing her son, she knows that he will come to regret this behavior, but a woman can only take so much.

Gemma presses her lips into a flat line as she approaches her daughter in law.

Alma seems to be growing her hair out from the short bob she had seemed to keep since the birth of Kaylee. Her light brown hair was now reaching past her shoulders. She had a braided crown for the shorter pieces of hair that framed her face and she was wearing an off white floral sundress. Of course, Kaylee was wearing a matching hairstyle with white floral shorts to match the style of her mother.

Alma has been quiet throughout the day. She of course has been doting on her kids, participating in the conversations floating around her, and even tending to Jax with trips bringing him new beers and whatever he seemed to request.

It was just there was no affection between the two. She is used to Jax never being able to keep his eyes, lips, and hands off any body part of Alma's. Her giving him a beer would be rewarded with a kiss to a hand or a hand squeezing a hip. Jax was giving Alma none of that and Alma wasn't showing any affection for her husband. She barely managed to give a closed lipped smile.

Gemma doesn't like seeing her family like this.

"Alma, come with me for a sec?" She whispers.

Alma doesn't resist. Doesn't say anything as she follows her in the garden house and Gemma is worried. She closes the door to give them some privacy.

"What's going on between you and Jax?" Gemma asks.

Alma shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Gemma echoes.

Alma says nothing as she looks past Gemma and at one of her plants.

"Alma…you know if you need someone to talk to…"

"About what?"

Gemma purses her lips. "How about I take the kids tonight?"

Alma folds her arms across her chest. "If you want too. The kids always love spending time with their grandmother."

"Alma…"

"Mommy!"

Alma jumps slightly at the sound of Kaylee's voice. She opens the door and leaves Gemma feeling scared for her family.

.

Dinner is more subdued. Jax is interacting with his brothers and tending to his kids. Alma is solely focused on Kaylee not getting her spaghetti all over her clothes. Not once has Gemma seen Alma and Jax exchange words outside of asking each other to pass something along.

Watching the bodily language, Alma is definitely more submissive than she ever recalls the young woman being. It isn't until Gemma is in her greenhouse smoking a cigarette that she is able to speak to her son. He comes in with his own cigarette already lit.

"Thanks for dinner, Ma."

"Anything for my family." Gemma replies as she sucks on her cigarette. "Happy to have you home."

"It's good to be home." Jax replies with a smile.

"Speaking of which, I was thinking of keeping the kids tonight. Give you and Alma some alone time."

Jax tenses. "Alma and I are fine, Ma."

"I never said you weren't."

Jax doesn't reply. Gemma doesn't add anything else as she finishes her cigarette. She suspects what is eating her son up.

"Have you gone to see him yet?"

Jax doesn't respond.

"You're his father. You need to see him."

"It's not going to change anything." Jax mumbles. "It's not going to fix anything."

"Avoiding it is going to make it worse, Jax. Let yourself feel that pain. Share that pain with Alma." Gemma advises her son. She knows this from experience.

"I wouldn't be in this petition if it wasn't for her." Jax snaps at the mention of Alma.

She feels the sting of her palm before she realizes what she has done. Her son clenches his jaw as the imprint of her hand on his cheek begins more prominent. She doesn't know if she wants to shake him or slap him some more. But there has never been a time where she was disappointed and ashamed of her son.

"Your father would be ashamed of you."

.

.

.

"You're not coming to the party?"

Alma jumps slightly at the sound of her husband's voice. She almost drops her grip on the basket of snacks she planned to take outside. The kids had wanted to do a camping trip in their backyard. They had been planning it for the last two weeks. In fact, this morning Kaylee had told Jax of their plans for this particular Friday evening.

It was clear Jax was not listening to Kaylee this morning. In fact, she thinks Jax was not listening much to anything pertaining to the family since the family dinner. She didn't push or prod Jax. She wouldn't be able to anyways as Jax had been keeping his distance it seemed. It was very cold in their bedroom. She wasn't sure how to break the ice.

A part of her wasn't wanting to break the ice.

She shakes her head. "The kids are having their camping trip. We've been planning it for two weeks."

"You haven't been to a party since I've been out."

"Who's going to watch the kids, Jax?" She asks him simply.

"My mother." He answers.

And for the first time in forever, Alma feels self-conscious in front of Jax in her loose sweats, white t-shirt, and oversized cardigan. Her hair is in a single plait and with no makeup on; she can feel Jax scrutinizing her appearance.

"Do you want me to go?"

"It's fine," he answers gruffly.

Alma smiles stiffly as she begins to make her way back to the kids. They need to work on building their fire with the wood Half Sack had graciously chopped for them.

"We cool?"

The sound of Jax's voice stops her as she turns to look at him.

Her grip of her basket of snacks tightens. "You tell me?"

He doesn't answer.

.

.

Jax is honestly bored. He really wasn't in the mood for a clubhouse party. He wasn't particularly keen on watching Bobby going down on two croweaters on a pool table. He also wasn't keen on going home either. He knows that is his own fault if anything. He is the one that is having a hard time with his head and heart seeing straight. He just feels so damn guilty. It is his fault that he had Alma experiencing so much stress in the first place. He doesn't really blame her for the loss of their son. He knows painful shit like this happens. He knows she is the easiest target to take his anger out on. Kyle is dead and it wouldn't be smart killing Stahl.

He just doesn't know how to handle this pain. He doesn't understand how his mom and dad got over losing Thomas. Worse, he never got to hold or meet his son. Thinking about his family - his wife - it is just too painful.

Too painful in fact that he doesn't register the strong scent of a floral perfume burning his nostrils, lips ghosting over his skin, and a hand rubbing over his denim. He isn't paying attention to any of that as his attention is soon taken by a BMW rolling onto their lot followed by a few black Chevy trucks. A man in a suit exits the BMW, but his lackies wearing button ups and clean shaven heads are a stark contrast. Jax can tell they are skinheads.

Jax detangles himself from the croweater as he stands next to Clay. The rest of the guys flanking them.

Clay lights a cigar. "What the hell is this? Garage is closed."

The man in the suit only smirks. "We're not here for, uh, car repairs. I understand you're a Camacho fan." The salt and pepper man says as he hands over a box of cigars to Clay.

Clay isn't impressed. "Who are you?"

The man next to him with a red tattoo on his neck speaks. "Just dropping by to give you a little friendly advice."

Jax rolls his eyes. "And what advice would that be?"

The suit looks between Jax and Clay. "We feel it would be best for all concerned if you stop dealing arms to the One Niners and the Mayans."

The club snorts and begins to laugh. A wide smile adorns Clay's face. "I don't even know what you're talking about. We're just mechanics and Harley lovers."

Tig standing on the other side of Clay adds. "That's one of Darby's guys back there."

"Mr. Darby is one of our supporters." The man confirms.

Clay's eyes narrow. "Mm. Expensive car. Hell of a suit. All your teeth. Must be the top of the Aryan food chain, huh?"

"What you do for a living is between you and your maker. I'm not here to adjust your moral compass. This is just a reality check. You're a criminal and you're done selling guns to color." Tig cocks his gun and the suit stops speaking and looks at him boredly. "Are you gonna shoot me, Mr. Trager? With all these witnesses?"

Clay answers. "Look, uh, I don't know what Darby told you and, uh, I don't know what your angle is, but let me be real clear. Nobody threatens SAMCRO. And nobody tells us what we can and can't do. Black, brown or white. So, why don't you just climb back into your little German clown car and drive back to Nazi town? 'Cause the next time you piss all over my shoes, he will kill you. I don't give a shit how many witnesses there are."

The man holds out a business card. Clay doesn't move to take it so Jax does and he reads the name Ethan Zobelle. He owns a cigar shop.

"My shop opens in a few weeks. Until then... enjoy." The club watches as the men go back in their cars and drive away.

.

.

It was expected for Kaylee to be the first one to be consumed with sleep. Alma has always been grateful that her little girl could find sleep easily. She knows it used to scare Jax how quick their daughter found sleep and would stay asleep. Nathan is still up, however. She knows reading him a story won't put him down quickly and after having another midnight snack, Alma suspects her boy is staying up to simply keep her company.

It makes her sad and worried that her son can be so perspective. Then again not a lot of families go through prison sentences and the death of family members. Her son has to grow up fast in this life. It makes her feel like a failure of a mother that she can't protect his innocence.

"Mom, are you and dad happy?" Her son is laying down with his head in her lap. He is bundled up in his sleeping bag. She runs her fingers through his hair like she does with Jax some nights. Right now, she is grateful that the darkness of the night can hide her face. She is not exactly sure how to answer that.

Right now, she isn't happy per say, but overall she is happy to a point. She is clinging to the fact whatever is happening between her and Jax is just a rough point. All relationships go through them, but her child shouldn't be asking this. She doesn't even want her children to even have to question this.

"You and Kaylee make us very happy." She replies as she softly flicks his nose.

Nathan smiles before his face turns serious. "I know that, but are you and dad happy together?"

Alma is quiet, but she pulls Nathan closer and cradles him as if he was a baby again. He lets her and she inhales the scent of wood and smoke that is clinging to him. "I love your father. I will always love your father. Right now, i don't think we're happy, but i am happy with him."

"Are you sad because of Ben?"

"I think Daddy is sad that he couldn't be here with us. He wanted to be here, but he couldn't." She presses a kiss to Nathan's forehead. "No matter what we love you and your sister very much."

"I just want you and dad to be happy again." Nathan mumbles.

"We will be." She promises.

.

.

Alma can't sleep. She tries to bury herself in the blankets and covers she has brought outside in the tent she shares with her kids. Sleep evades her. Not wanting to wake the kids, she leaves the tent and decides to do some housekeeping. She begins by throwing away wrappers and grabbing plates and silverware to wash.

She notices Jax never made it back home. She ignores how the clock reads 3AM. She decides to prep for breakfast to at least make that easier for her. After cutting up some fruit, she thinks a shower will do her some good to maybe help her relax.

She is too lost in her thoughts to hear the sound of the motorcycle or the front door opening. She has just stripped down to her bra and underwear when hands latch onto her hips. A squeal escapes her lips while a giggle and a hand covers her mouth.

"Shh… it's just me."

Alma moves the hand off her mouth and she turns to pull away from Jax, but his grip is tight. "What is wrong with you?"

His pupils are dilated and he reeks of alcohol. "Shh…" He tells her as he trips to connect their lips, but she pushes him back. She startles them both and Jax ends up falling backwards onto the armchair in their room. He pulls Alma to settle into his lap.

"Jax…" Alma whines.

"Come on, babe, I miss you." He whispers as he presses heated kisses to her neck, jaw, and collarbone.

"You're drunk." She points out. She is considered how he even managed to get on his bike and make his way home.

"So even when i'm sober I still want to fuck you."

She isn't able to respond as his hand forms a fist with her hair and he pulls her head towards him. Their lips meet in a searing kiss. She can taste the weed, beer, whiskey, and nicotine against his lips. She almost allows herself to get lost in the kiss, but a strong piercing fruity scent irritates her nose. It's not his cologne and it most certainly isn't' hers.

She pulls away from the kiss and her eyes burn and she can feel a tightness in her chest and throat. Jax is oblivious as he paws at her panties. She is barely participating as he places kiss after kiss across her skin. She doesn't stop him from pulling the cups of her bra down as he pays attention to her breasts.

Her mind is hazy as she clutches onto him. His face pressed into her chest. She won't allow him to kiss her again. She grips his hair tightly as he doesn't bother removing her underwear and pushes it to the side. She's not fully prepared for him as he slides into her.

He groans from the connection and Alma remains quiet. She tentally moves her hips and she feels Jax twitch inside her. She's breathing heavy as she sits up. She pushes Jax back firmly against the chair. She begins slow languid movements back and forth. Jax's hands are on her hips and he helps guide the movements until her muscles clenching around him make them become lax.

Her eyes don't leave her husband's frame despite how much she can't bare the thought of him fucking another woman hours before her. She grinds against him. Her thighs are trembling from the effort and her stomach trembling as she can feel Jax deep in her belly.

"Fuck, Al…" Jax moans as she clenches around him when a move stimulates her clit. Jax sits up startling her and he latches on to one of her nipples and sucks hard. She cries out from the move. Jax takes control and he begins thrusting up deep and fast.

Alma wraps her arms across his shoulders for some leverage against his deep thrusts. She grips his hair tightly as she moves against him. She can feel the mess she is making between them. The sounds between them filling their room.

It hits her abruptly and she freezes and trembles above him. Jax gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he releases inside her.

Alma is breathing heavily against him and for the first time she feels disgusted with herself. She knows that she shouldn't have done this. Worse, she knows that she should have confronted him about him coming home late and smelling another woman on him.

Instead, she pulls away from her husband and ignores him dripping down her thighs and gets into the shower.

He follows her a couple minutes later. There is no conversation as they wash themselves. She finishes showering first and leaves Jax alone.

It isn't until she puts on some sweats and an oversize shirt to go back out to the tent with the kids that she thinks she hates Jax at the moment.

.

Alma isn't sure when she fell asleep. Her body is stiff when she feels someone shaking her. She groans when her body is shaken again.

"Alma, you need to wake up."

Alma opens her eyes at the sound of Jax's voice. It's strained and he looks scared. "What's going on?"

Jax runs his hands through his hair. "It's my mom. She was in a car accident."

.

Alma knows something is off. They had spent three hours at the hospital waiting on news regarding Gemma's accident. Unser had been the one to take Gemma there. The kids were anxious about the news about their grandmother.

When they were finally able to see Gemma, the kids had immediately comforted their grandmother. Kaylee had broken down though at the sight of the bruises and cuts on their grandmother. Gemma despite the pain she was feeling was able to comfort her granddaughter. Alma wasn't surprised when Gemma asked to spend the day with them.

Alma keeps her distance. She cleans the house while the kids are distracted. It isn't until she starts working on dinner that Gemma is able to extract herself from the kids.

"What do you plan on making?" Gemma asks her.

"Pasta, garlic bread, and a salad unless you want something different." Alma tells her.

"This is fine." Gemma tells her. The matriarch begins digging out the material to make the salad.

"Gem, you can sit in the kitchen and relax. You don't need to do anything." Alma says after watching Gemma wince.

"I need to do this. Need something to keep me occupied." Gemma answers as she brings things to the breakfast bar. "You weren't at the clubhouse last night."

"The kids wanted a camping trip. Besides, there will be more clubhouse parties."

Gemma hums as she begins cutting up the block of cheese. Alma licks her lips as she tries to figure out where Gemma's headspace is at. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"Too much drink and bud. Just had a mortal jolt." Gemma explains.

Alma doesn't believe her for a second. She knows that if Gemma didn't feel capable of driving she would have stayed at the clubhouse. Gemma isn't telling her something. "Gem…"

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Gemma brushes off. "Things okay between you and Jax?"

"If you even have to ask you have your answer." Alma replies.

"I'm not going to make excuses for my son, but i don't want either of you to get hurt. I don't want my grandbabies to get hurt. You and Jax...it would break my heart for you two hate each other and not find your way back to each other."

"We'll always be a family, Gemma, no matter what is going on between Jax and I."

"He's gonna need you. He'll always need you. Don't forget that."

.

.

It was a long day and Jax exhales a deep breath as he walks into his house. He couldn't wait to be home after dealing with Luann's porn problem, which now gave him the idea of being partners with her, and the fact the Mayans had jumped them at a Niner's deal and managed to shoot Bobby. However, none of that compared to the fact his mother was in a fucking car accident. Jax would usually find his way upstairs to check on the kids, but his feet take him to the kitchen. He finds a plate already set out for him. His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccine alfredo, salad, and breadsticks. His eyes scan for Alma, but he doesn't feel her presence anywhere. He stuffs his mouth with breadsticks and walks into the living room. No one is in there and only one lamp is on. He scans the place until he looks outside to find the sight of glowing amber.

He walks over and opens the door that leads to their patio. He finds his mom wrapped up in a blanket smoking a cigarette.

"What are you doing out here?" He asks his mother. Him and his mom haven't exactly spoken since she slapped him in her kitchen. He knows if his mom knew what happened at the clubhouse party he might receive another slap.

"Couldn't sleep." She tells him as she flicks her cigarette. "You're home late."

"Niners crashed our meet with the Mayan." He tells her.

"Shit. Anyone hurt?"

"Bobby got clipped in the shoulder. Nothing we couldn't handle." He informs her as he joins her on the bench.

"Should we be worried?"

Jax shrugs his shoulders. Honestly, he doesn't know. He just can't stand being in the middle of a beef the club has no interest in. After all, selling guns is just business. Who the Mayans and Niners decide to shoot is none of his concern. He doesn't even know what the hell they even did besides breathing to piss off the Mayans.

"We'll be fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just had a mortal jolt. I'll be alright." Gemma assures him. She pats his legs. "Go finish your dinner. Alma should be Italian with how much she makes pasta."

Jax frowns at the mention of his wife. He has been treating her like shit and he doesn't know how to mend the gap between them. "Ma…"

Gemma looks at him with her knowing brown eyes. "It takes time, baby. You'll both get there."

Jax nods his head. "Clay know you're here?"

"Yeah, I sent him a text a while ago."

Jax nods his head and stands up. He plants a kiss on the side of her head. "I love you, Ma."

"I love you, too."

.

.

Alma loves Luann. She truly does, but she can only handle her in small doses. Luann just always seems to be hopped up on uppers. Alma makes sure to have her lavender aroma lamp setting on high with the former porn star coming in for her biweekly nail appointment.

Alma listens as Luann struggles with the 15 year separation between her and Otto. Alma thinks she is the only person Luann really opens up to about that particular issue. Alma's own heart clenches as she knows one day it could be her in both Luann's and Donna's spot.

Worse, she is not sure how Luann can handle the 15 year absence of intimacy. She has suspicions that Luann is discreet about her flings, but she can't imagine having to live with the fact she has to find a replacement for her husband. The thought that burns the most is the fact becoming old ladies that have to accept the prison sentences. They have to be prepared to be a prison widow.

As she applies the gel coating over Luann's nails, the former porn star complains about some of the diva attitudes they have and now it is getting worse with that attention of the club men.

That causes Alma's eyebrow to raise. "What do you mean?"

She can tell Luann knows she spoke too much, but now she can't take the words back. "The club and I are partners now. Jax was the one to bring it to the table."

"Hmmm."

Luann doesn't say anything which makes it all worse. The silence regarding that one thing is more embarrassing than anything. She wonders what Luann has witnessed and the fact Jax doesn't care about the humiliation of his acts that bear witnesses.

"Does Otto know?"

"I told him. I think it is hard for him to not be here to support me. All of this…" Luann trails off. "I try not to complain, but this was one thing that I owned. I…" Luann stops again.

Alma gives Luann a couple minutes to compose herself. "If you want. I can hire you to do the nails. Give you the extra income."

"I'm sure that needs to be a club vote." Alma says.

"No, this isn't club business."

Alma gives Luann a real genuine smile. "Thank you."

"Us women need to stick together." Luann tells her firmly. "I'll drop by the official paperwork. It might be good to think of a business name as well. I'll try and network for you as much as I can."

.

.

When Luann leaves and she begins cleaning up. The news of Jax being Larry Flynt stews. She doesn't mind it and she knows that even if she did, she has no say in club business. She trusted Jax. Now, it seemed it was a big secret and she was the last one to find out.

It hurts that everyone else can see the cracks in her marriage too. She doesn't know what to do. The worst thing is she can hear her mom telling her "i told you so".

For now, she is going to try to focus on her daughter's upcoming birthday party. It is better than to think about the women keeping her husband company. It makes her not want to even attend any function and be exposed to the whispers. She won't cry though. She won't give Jax the satisfaction. She won't give him anything.

She'll put a fake smile on her face and go about her day.

She is writing down the list of supplies she will need for Kaylee's party when the door opens. She hears the jingling of keys and her husband walks into the kitchen. She is taken back when he greets her with a kiss on the head before rummaging in the fridge.

The words slip out before she can stop them.

"You're a porn producer now?"

Jax's body tenses and he slowly turns around. He stares at her. He has to know that Luann was the one to spill the beans. "Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me because?" She presses.

Jax doesn't say anything as he presses his lips together in the thin line. He runs a hand down his face. "It's club business."

Alma scoffs. "What happened to total disclosure?"

"At my discretion. I don't need to tell you shit."

Alma stands up from the table. "Did you really just say that to me?"

"Luann is obviously putting shit in your ear. So what is it you are exactly accusing me of?"

Alma shakes her head. She can feel her body shaking. When she is angry, she is the person that cries. Also, she doesn't think she ever really recalls being this angry with her husband. She wants to kick him out of the house. She isn't going to be his emotional punching bag.

Jax stands in front of her. She is forced to look up at him. She wants to take a step back, but she stands her ground.

"What the fuck did Luann tell you?"

Alma looks down and focuses her gaze on the single bullet pendant. She takes a deep breath and looks up into Jax's blue eyes. "It's old lady business."

Jax scoffs. "You got to be fucking kidding me." He moves away from her. "I'm not dealing with this shit."

"Shocking, you're walking away." Her words make Jax freeze.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"What do you think it fucking means?" She fires back. She wants to shiver from how cold Jax is acting towards her. She is honestly trying to figure out how in the world they got to this point. Jax doesn't say anything as he stares at her with furrowed brows.

Alma licks her lips. "Maybe…" She trails off because she knows if she says it, she can't take the words back. They can't go back to how things were before.

His blue eyes are burning a hole into her, but she never gets to finish her words as Nathan comes in. Alma goes back to making her supply list for Kaylee's party. Nathan manages to drag Jax into playing basketball in the driveway.

.

.

Alma feels like an outsider. She feels like a hypocrite. Donna didn't say anything though. She didn't make any snide comment as she opened the door wider for her to come into the house. In fact, Alma had faced the cold facts that Donna is truly her only friend. Alma was shocked to see boxes piled everywhere, but she didn't say anything.

Donna didn't say anything as she made them tea knowing Alma hates coffee. Donna eventually slides a warm mug in front of her.

"Thank you."

Donna nods her head. "I'm sorry for what I said the last time we spoke."

"Don't apologize." Alma tells her.

"No, I wasn't taking in my accountability for the situation. Mine and Opie's problems are our own." Donna explains.

"You moving?"

"I'm selling this house. Downsizing. Oswald is helping me with that. Got me a deal. If I stay here, I would go into debt."

"Opie knows?"

"Helped pick out the house."

"Things are…"

"Better. Manageable." Donna finishes. "I just know being angry isn't going to help. I have to take it day by day."

"I'm glad to know you're okay. I know I wasn't that supportive." Alma admits her fault.

"I mean how can any of us be in this? You want to support the man, the club, but we can't put that before our children."

"I just don't want you to be alone in all of us." Alma tells her.

Donna gives her a sad smile. "I don't think you came here to talk about Opie and me."

"I just came to get away, honestly. Things between Jax and I haven't been smooth." Alma admits.

Donna nods. "How have you been since Ben?'

Alma chews on her bottom lip. It wasn't as if she wasn't devastated about the loss of her child. She was, but she had the support of family to get her through it. She also thinks she had accepted things like this just happened. She knows Jax never got the closure of losing their son. He wasn't there to grieve with them. He never got to hold his son for those few moments to say goodbye.

She knows that she can't put a timetable on his grief, but the way he is acting and behaving...she doesn't recognize him anymore.

"Jax won't talk to me. About anything. I mean I know that...losing a child does break marriages."

"I'm sorry, Alma. How bad is it?"

Does Alma really want to admit that her husband cheating on her is a dealbreaker when he sells guns. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad if he wasn't blatant about it. If it didn't feel like he was throwing it in her face. Alma doesn't want to admit she has turned into her mother.

"Luann offered me a job doing nails for the studio. So I got a job." Alma replies with.

Donna gives her a closed lip smile as she nods her head. "Maybe we should brainstorm on business names, yeah?"

.

.

Alma usually can ignore the sound of Jax's phone ringing, but when both kids are experiencing explosive diarrhea and throwing up, she has hit her peak. It has not been a very relaxing day especially when she had no husband to help deal with the two sick kids.

Jax groans from beside her. Alma squints as she checks on the tme and sees it is 6:30 AM.

"What Luann?" Jax asks gruffly.

She didn't even know the studio was even open that early. Luann told her that she is only needed on set every other day and not on weekends due to the kids. Today is Saturday. She can hear Luann yelling faintly. Alma squeezes her pillow tightly as Jax sits up on the bed.

Alma can't help the shiver from the cold air hitting her skin as Jax leaves the bed. He grumbles to Luann about being there in about 20 minutes before she slams the phone shut.

"Chlamydia outbreak?" Alma says into the dark of the room.

Jax snorts, but doesn't reply.

Alma leans up and turns on her lamp next to the bed. "Are you gonna come back?"

Jax looks at her confused as he buttons his jeans. "Where in the fuck am I gonna go?"

"You promised Kaylee that you were gonna take her for a ride and some ice cream."

"It's barely 7 in the morning. I have all afternoon for that."

"That's not the point, Jax." Alma snaps. "She is gonna be crushed that you aren't here when she wakes up!"

"Jesus Christ, well what do you want me to do? Ignore Luann because if you haven't forgotten, she just gave you a fucking job at the studio."

That was a sore topic between her and Jax now. Jax didn't want Alma at the studio at all, but she sure as hell wasn't letting some of the workers come into her home. Some girls were lovely like Lyla. Others she could tell were judging her. She got a lot of comments for how good she looked for being a mother. They were surprised to see she was able to keep her figure. There was a lot of judgment.

She knows Jax's concern isn't with how the women are treating her, but the fact she is probably interacting with a woman he has fucked. It's telling how he never manages to be at the studio when she's there.

She doesn't bother in replying to Jax as she turns off the light and lays back down.

She's tired.

.

.

Jax smiles as he watches Nathan's failed attempt at skipping rocks. They were at the streams for a father and son day. Jax had a break in his long days and he thought spending time with his oldest would be the best way to figure out what the fuck he was doing.

Jax knows he is hurting Alma - he is hurting their marriage.

He just doesn't understand when it got easier to not talk to his wife. He knows Alma will hit a breaking point. He just doesn't know how to find his way back to her. He doesn't know how to bring up their dead son and how it had gutted him to have to find out through Stahl their family had gone through such a tremendous loss.

It's just every day, he sees his family moving further away from him while he is stuck in his own misery. He just knows there is no coming back from the shit he has been doing. He is even more surprised Alma hasn't called him out or kicked him out of the house. Though he knows why she hasn't taken that drastic measure. He knows Alma would rather live with them being strangers than for their kids to grow up in a broken home.

"Dad, I'm shit at this." Nathan cries as a rock plummets to the bottom.

"Hey, watch your mouth," Jax scolds gently. "Your mom will have my ass hearing you talk like this."

Nathan snorts as he moves away from the stillwater. He sits down beside him and Jax swings his arm around his son and brings him in a bear hug. He knows in a few years and heck maybe a few months that Nathan won't allow this. Despite his son only being on the cups of seven, he finds that his son seems older some days.

It is even harder to believe it's been six years since the birth of his son.

He still remembers a teary eyed Alma informing him of her suspicions of a possible pregnancy. She was a kid. 16 years old crying in his dorm room. He had done that because he couldn't help himself. He was the dumb one for not wearing protection.

He still remembers their first time. Alma was dressed up in a black dress that was very inappropriate to begin with. She got stuck in Stockton at a party in a club after a fight with a boyfriend. She had called him for a ride. She failed to mention how she had managed to even get a fake ID. Not one for washing dirty laundry in front of others, he had taken her to her house and forced her to drink some water to sober up. Jax knew he couldn't judge, but it was very stupid of her to get drunk somewhere unfamiliar.

Jax knew it was bad enough that his eyes would linger on Alma's curves or what her lips would feel like, but he knew he would never act on it. But he did.

Jax was weak and he fucked her.

She got pregnant and Ana threatened to have him arrested multiple times for sleeping with her daughter. He had only recently turned 18 and she was acting like he was damn near 30 years old. He can admit Alma's pregnancy with Nathan were the best months. The intimacy between him and Alma was what he missed the most. Despite knowing each other all of their lives, they were discovering each other in different ways. He isn't going to deny that the sex was fucking phenomenal either.

Just those small moments of laying in bed and watching Nathan move inside her belly is something he wishes he could go back too. He holds his son closer. He presses a kiss to his head. "You know I miss when you were a baby."

Nathan scrunches his nose. "Why?"

"You were a cute baby. Your mom would dress you in such ridiculous outfits."

Nathan scowls while Jax laughs.

"You used to like sleeping on my bare chest. You threw up on me plenty of times."

'If i was still a baby, Kaylee wouldn't be here."

"Well you are right about that." Jax agrees.

"Besides, you liked changing my poopy diapers?"

"You do make a good point, you had the worst diapers."

"Will you and Mom…" Nathan trails off.

"Will we what?" Jax presses.

"Will we get another baby in the family?"

Jax tightens his hold on his son. "I don't know." Having more kids is the last thing on Jax's mind. "Did you see Ben when he was born?" Jax asks softly.

Nathan nods his head. Jax doesn't think he is going to add anything, but he does. "He was really tiny. Smaller than one of Kaylee's dolls. Mom was in the bed holding him. She was singing "Dreaming of You". The nurses took him away and Mommy got quiet. She made a noise that scared me. She started screaming for you."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Jax tells her his son.

"Are you and Mommy okay?"

Jax doesn't get to reply as his phone begins going off. He sighs as he pulls the device out of his pocket. He clenches his jaw at Luann calling again before he answers it. He is barely listening as she rambles until he hears that Clay had sent Bobby over there to handle books.

He knows Clay has been in a mood lately and for some reason his step-father didn't seem to think adding legal income was a smart move. He claimed it would be too much for the club since they didn't know where this bullshit with Zobelle was going. He also has a feeling Clay and his mom have been distant which is feeding into Clay's uneasiness.

"Christ, Luann, I'll be there in a bit." He tells her as he slams his phone shut. He looks down at his son. "We have to make a small detour."

.

.

"Just stay out here. I'll be out in a few minutes." Jax says hurriedly to Nathan. "Remember don't tell your mother either."

Nathan nods his head. His father presses a kiss to his head and rushes inside the very large building. Nathan is slightly confused why he can't go inside the building and he doesn't really like that his Dad wants to keep it a secret from Mom. He has noticed his parents aren't the same anymore. He makes him sad to know his parents aren't happy when he is happy. Him and Kaylee are both happy that their dad is back home with him.

Nathan watches a blonde girl pass by him with a very short skirt. He crinkles his nose at her and hears her snort.

Nathan keeps himself distracted by mimicking driving his Dad's bike and he is having fun doing that until he spots his Grandmother rushing into the lot.

She looks at him confused, but doesn't get to speak as he sees his grandfather right behind her on his bike.

"What the hell you doing here?" His granddad shouts.

His grandma frowns at him before turning to Clay. "Luann called. She's freaking out."

"That's club business." Clay spits. "You got no reason to intervene."

Nathan is distracted as Tig picks him up off his Dad's bike.

"What... intervene? She's my friend. She needs to talk." Gemma replies as she studs her keys into her purse.

"So when she wants to talk, you what, drop everything?" Clay fires back.

"Jesus Christ, what are you, three?" Gemma says exasperated.

"Get back to the garage." Clay orders. Nathan is even taken back back as his Grandma.

"Excuse me?"

"The last thing I need is for you running diva over a goddamn cum factory."

Nathan is shocked when his grandma kicks his grandpa's bike. "Asshole."

Nathan gets scared, however, when his grandpa picks up a brick and throws it at his grandma's car. It smashes the driver's side window.

"You stupid piece of shit!" Gemma screams.

Tig shakes him. "Go get your Dad."

Nathan runs off and into the building. His eyes widen when he sees alot of girls wearing very little. He finds his dad sitting on a couch with the blonde girl he saw earlier.

His dad notices him first. "I thought I told you to wait outside."

Nathan doesn't get to respond as the blonde lady comes closer. "Ohh, is this your son?" She says in a baby voice that makes Nathan wrinkle his nose in distaste.

Jax blocks him from view as he peers down on him.

"Grandma and Grandpa are fighting." Nathan says before tugging his dad back outside.

They witness Clay punching Gemma's escalade.

"Just what those arthritic mitts need, a good pounding." Gemma sneers before going to walk away.

"You want to see a good pounding?" Clay mutters as he comes up behind Gemma.

Nathan gets scared for his grandma as she freezes at the contact. She releases a startled breath and screams brokeningly. " Come on, bad ass, lay hands on me. I'll slit your goddamn throat! You are pathetic! Don't you touch... Don't!"

Nathan rushes forward and pushes his grandpa away. "Stay away, Grandpa!"

He doesn't like seeing his Dad or grandpa making his mom and Grandma cry. He is tired of seeing the women in his family looking so sad.

He hugs his grandmother's legs. "It's okay, Grandma. I got you."

.

.

There are a lot of things Gemma overlooks from her son. In this life, she knows her son does things that most parents would never want any child to even be aware of. Just growing up in this life, Gemma has accepted it. However, the fact her son brought her grandson to a porn studio is something she isn't going to let slide by.

If her son wants to sabotage his marriage there isn't much she can do, but for him to put his children in the crossfire, her son is a fucking idiot. She knows that Alma most certainly doesn't know about that visit.

Gemma didn't think she would raise such a dumbass for a son.

"You needed me?"

Gemma's eyes fly to her son. She notices that he has neglected shaving his beard and cutting his hair. He looks tired. Gemma thinks she can relate.

"What were you thinking taking Nathan to Cara Cara?"

Jax sighs. "It's not a big deal."

"Are you purposely trying to piss off Alma?" She questions hotly.

"What about what's going on with you and Clay?"

Gemma doesn't lower her gaze from her son's burning eyes. She is not oblivious that everyone has been walking on eggshells around her. She would love to tell her son and husband the truth about her car accident, but she knows they would do something stupid. She would lose her boys to that anger.

"Alma's not blind or stupid, Jax. Just because she hasn't outright done or said anything…" Gemma trails off. She has tried to pry her way inside Alma's mind. She was curious to know where her daughter in laws head was at. As much as Alma is Chico's daughter, Ana was the one that raised her. Ana was known for her plotting. She made her exit strategies. Gemma knows that Alma is getting all her ducks in a row and since her son is being an asshole she can't blame her.

Gemma watches as Jax looks away from her. She clears her throat. "Miss Double Penetration is waiting for you."

She is surprised to see the guilt in her son's face.

.

.

Alma is busy in the kitchen making dinner. Nathan and Jax have been out all day. She and Kaylee stayed inside and had a mini spa day. Kaylee wanted to learn how to do pretty nails like she did. Kaylee was not fond of not being able to go to see and all the pretty nails she does at work.

It was a good day though. For once, Alma didn't really feel stressed or consumed with negative thoughts about where her life had been going lately. She looks out to the opening where Kaylee is consumed with the TV. She is talking along with Dora as they speak Spanish.

Alma knows she should speak to her children more in Spanish. She knows her mother only speaks to them in Spanish. She knows though that her mother does it to irritate Jax. Jax has been able to pick up some words, but she knows he gets lost when she or the kids really get going.

Alma smiles as she turns back to the request for Burritos for dinner and some supreme nachos. She is busy filling the burritos and lost in her head when she jumps as she feels hands grab her hips.

The smell of nicotine and leather fill her senses and Jax's arms wrap fully around her and she is pulled to his chest.

Alma is making dinner with Kaylee when he comes home and surprises Alma with some affection. She is frozen as she places a kiss on her cheek and then on her shoulder.

"Where's Nathan?"

"Dropped him off with Mom."

"Did you guys have a good time?" She asks.

"Yeah," Jax mutters against her head. "Should plan a family day to the beach after Kaylee's birthday."

Alma is perplexed, but doesn't let on. if he wants to pretend things are fine. She'll let him. He isn't going to ruin her good mood for the day.

"Just let me know what i need to do." She replies.

Jax smiles. "Do you need any help in the kitchen?"

Alma shakes her head. "No. No, thank you though."

She is taken back by him giving her another hug and pressing a kiss to her head before joining Kaylee in her Dora adventures.

.

.

Alma feels unsettled. Jax had become more attentive and affectionate over the past couple days and it's throwing her off. She even woke up to him between her thighs and he didn't even want her to return the favor.

Something is just off and she wonders if all of this is happening because of his guilt about something. She didn't miss the headline in the news about some backwater trailer being blown to smithereens. There are reports of it being a meth lab and while she listens to the story, she realizes she has no idea what is going on within the club.

Jax would tell her everything down to the club voting on which toilet paper should be in the clubhouse. Now, he hasn't told her anything evident when she had to find out through Luann about him being a porn producer.

Alma sighs as she knows she and Jax need to have a talk soon. It is the only reason why when she went grocery shopping she let Nathan have fun in the snack aisle. She knows whatever talk she and Jax have is not going to be pretty.

She pulls into her driveway and narrows her eyes at a young blonde girl standing at her front door. The girl is wearing a micro skirt with a tube top as she chews on bubble gum.

"Stay in the car," Alma tells her son as she exits the car.

Alma watches as the woman trails her eyes over her frame. The woman is clearly judging her for some reason. Alma thinks she recognizes her and clearly from her outfit alone she knows this is a pornstar.

"Can I help you?" Alma asks her.

The girl blows a bubble with her gum. "Luann said you are supposed to be doing our nails." The girl holds up a hand with a broken nail. "I need this fixed."

"You need to make an appointment, or just wait until i come to the studio."

"Excuse me." The girl replies irritated.

"I'm sorry, but I don't take walk-ins." Alma explains. "I apologize if someone told you differently."

"I mean I wasted my gas and safety coming over here considering the whole situation with Georgie Carusco. Jax's been giving me rides back home." The woman says sweetly before walking away. "I'm Ima, by the way," she yells out.

Alma swallows the lump in her throat and she walks back to the car. She opens Nathan's door and smiles at him tightly. His words higher make her stomach drop.

"I seen her before. Dad was talking to her." She can tell Nathan realizes what he said as he looks at her worried.

"Where did you see her?" She can tell Nathan doesn't want to tell her. "Nathan."

"Daddy had to go visit Luann." He mumbles.

.

.

Alma waits. She makes dinner for the Jax and the kids. Jax volunteers to put the kids to bed and that is when Alma makes her move. She had showered and changed into a set of Pajama shorts and a cami. She almost feels bad as she hears Jax laughing with one of the kids.

She planned just to wait in bed to confront him, but she was too antsy. She couldn't keep still. She stands up and starts walking in a circle before she stands next to the small bookcase she and Jax keep in their room.

She knows after this nothing in their marriage can go back to the way things used to be. She can't decide if she feels anger or sadness.

She can hear Jax's heavy tread down the hallway. She can hear him enter their room and immediately closes the door. She doesn't wait. She turns around and looks at her husband.

"Who is Ima?" She asks with a blank expression.

She can tell he is taken back as the smile on his face disappears. He has a blank mask. "She is one of Luann's girls."

"And you're giving her rides home because?" Alma spits out.

"What the hell did my mother tell you?"

"It doesn't matter what your mother says. What do you say?" She fires back hotly. She ignores the sting of Gemma knowing about Jax's wandering dick.

"Whatever you heard is bullshit." He spits.

Alma doesn't realize she even grabbed the plastic ashtray until it is already flying across the room and smacks Jax in the face.

"What the fuck, Alma!"

"Am I not good enough for you!" She screams as she throws another meaningless item at him. "Did you have sex with her!"

Jax doesn't reply fast enough and he barely dodges another item that flies at him.

"Why in the fuck does Nathan know who she is, is actually the bigger issue." Alma spits. "You want to fuck your whore do it on your own goddamn times."

"He...I only took him there once, Al. It's not...he didn't see anything." Jax says trying to control the panic he is feeling. His marriage is about to implode.

Alma opens the drawers filled with Jax's clothes and throws them at him.

"Get out! I don't want you here. Go fuck your whores at the clubhouse!" She screams at him. She knows that she won't be able to bear hearing his voice or his touch. She runs into the bathroom and locks the door to avoid facing him.

She doesn't bother holding her sobs as the cries break out. All she can think is that this is what her mother had warned her about. Her mother told her this would happen. She doesn't know how long she kept herself isolated in the bathroom until a timid knock comes from the door.

"Mom?"

Alma immediately stands up and wipes at her face hearing Nathan's voice. She opens the door and gives him a watery smile.

"What's wrong baby?"

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm just a little bit sad. I'll feel better in the morning."

Nathan looks at her confused before he hugs her legs. "I don't like it when you're sad, Mommy. Will a kiss make you feel better?"

Alma kneels down. "A kiss from you will always make me feel better."

Nathan smiles and gives her a kiss. She holds her son tightly.

.

.

Jax knows he fucked up. In fact, his mind is still back in his bedroom as he watched a piece of Alma crumble. He knows there is no going back to how things were before. Instead of trying to fix his marriage, he finds himself at Cara Cara. He had confirmed it was a late shot. Some girls doing a few things on the cam. He is surprised the doors are even open that late considering the whole bullshit with Georgie. He thinks the expensive ass guard dogs must provide some comfort.

He is pissed though. Despite this being his fault for fucking that stupid pornstar. It's his fault that his marriage is hanging on barley by a thread. Besides after taking a ride, the last place he wanted to be at was the clubhouse. He didn't want to explain why he was showing up there late a night. He thinks he will just sleep on the couch when he gets home and leave before Alma realizes what he did. Worse, he will find refuge at his mom's house.

He takes a drag of his cigarette and then flicks the bud away. He takes a deep breath as he walks into the building. The girls barely blink at his presence. He feels shame tainting his blood as he knows these girls know his wife. Alma does their nails and they know what he does at some of the parties here.

He knows one particular pornstar that works with Ima, Lyla can't hide her disgust for him. He follows the familiar path to the dressing room and doesn't bother knocking on the door as he enters.

Ima and Lyla are doing their makeup and both jump at his arrival.

Lyla rolls her eyes and slams her something down on her makeup stand. She stands up abruptly and looks at Ima, "Reminder we're on in 15 minutes." Lyla doesn't hide her sneer at him as she leaves and slams the door.

Ima stands up and immediately unties her sheer pink robe. She has a flirty smile on her face as she approaches him. "Miss me?" She asks with a sultry smile.

Jax doesn't say anything as she approaches and she leans up to kiss him. He doesn't let her get that far as he cups her face and begins to lead her backwards towards her station. He thinks maybe he should feel some guilt for what he is about to do. She doesn't see it coming as he turns her and she releases a moan before it turns into a startled scream as he slams her face against her makeup station. She immediately tries to get away from him as she begins crawling.

He pulls her back by her hair. His grip is tight around her throat as he leans over her as he presses her against a lounge chair that is in her room.

She is too scared to scream or even cry as the blood pours out of her nose.

"You ever flash that rancid pussy around my family again, I will kill you. You understand?" He threatens her.

Ima nods as a sob breaks through her lips.

Jax stands up and looks at her in disgust. "Whore." He mutters before he leaves her alone. He can hear her sobbing as he walks down the hallway.

.

.

Jax isolates himself from the club once they reach Eureka. He has a bottle of Jack and wants to be left alone with his thoughts.

His kids had given him a cheerful goodbye and he had promised them a souvenir to bring back. Alma, however, was nowhere to be seen before he left. In fact, they haven't spoken in a week since she confronted him about Ima. He isn't stupid and hasn't tried to sleep in their bed together. He has made a home in the guest room. He knows he has some serious groveling to do to even get an ounce of forgiveness from her. He is not even sure where to start.

The only thing that has been able to keep him busy is club business. They are still trying to figure out how to handle Zobelle and he can tell it is getting to Clay after their little showdown on how to handle getting Tig back from the bounty hunters.

He knows that most of the stress coming from Clay is from whatever his mom has been dealing with since her car accident.

The only thing that Jax can say gets him through the day is that his children are safe. He is hoping by Kaylee's birthday that he and Alma will have things settled to a point she can look at him and probably not want to stab him.

Jax hears the sound of footsteps and he turns his head to find Bobby approaching. Bobby takes a seat on his bike that is parked next to him.

"You doing okay?" Bobby asks him.

Jax shrugs. "Just some shit at home."

Bobby hums. "Alma find out what you did to Ima?"

Jax shakes his head. "Ima knew better than to go to my fucking house." Jax defends himself.

"I'm not judging. I have no place considering the shit I put Precious through." Bobby amends. "What you and Alma went through on top of club shit hitting the fan...it's tough. How we grieve is different and there isn't a right way, butare you grieving Jax or punishing her."

Jax glares at Bobby, but he can't exactly deny the accusation.

"In this life, we can't have therapists, but we have old ladies or Piney," Bobby quips that makes Jax snort. "Just where is your head at man?" Bobby implores.

Jax takes a swing of his Jack as he looks out into the darkness of the night. In truth, he doesn't know. "I don't know, really. It's just a let it get this bad, I'm not sure if I can find a way back."

Bobby nods his head. "Alma loves you. She'll listen and the forgiveness might not come easy - "

"What if I already lost her?"

Bobby doesn't have an answer to that.

.

.

Gemma and Alma are out shopping for last minute items for Kaylee's birthday party. Alma had been surprised by the request and even more she somehow managed to convince Donna to have a playdate while they went out shopping.

So far Gemma has been entertaining small talk and Alma knows Gemma wants to talk about Jax. She is trying to ease her way into it.

Alma decides to cut through the bullshit. "Did you know about Ima?"

Gemma freezes and looks up from the packet of napkins that read "Happy Birthday". "So he slept with her?"

"He didn't deny it." Alma confirms. "I'm also not stupid enough to think she is the only one."

"What are you going to do?" Gemma asks.

"Try not to murder him in his sleep." Alma remarks dryly. "She came to our house, Gem."

Gemma eyes widen. She can tell her mother in law didn't know that. "She what!"

"I also know Jax took Nathan to Cara Cara." Alma adds. "I'm sorry, Gem, but I don't think this is something that can be fixed."

"Al…"

Alma shakes her head. "I need distance from him and all of this. It wasn't even like this was from him being on a run. He did this at home. Do you know how stupid I look going to Cara Cara and knowing Jax fucked them the night before. It wasn't even like he wasn't getting any at home either."

"Maybe send him to the clubhouse. Put up some boundaries. Divorce is serious, Alma."

Alma rolls her eyes. "I tried to kick him up and he only went to the couch. We can't say we didn't see this coming, Gem. When a couple loses a child...it's almost inevitable this was going to happen."

"What about the kids?" Gemma asks.

"We'll still be a family even if Jax and I are not together." Alma tells her softly.

"God, you're mother must be loving this."

"She doesn't know about anything that is going on," Alma tells her. "Even then it's not like I am calling a lawyer for divorce."

Gemma snorts. "If you are going to file for a legal separation isn't that going to just lead to divorce." Gemma remarks bitterly. "Just set some boundaries for Jax. You're not the first old - "

"Please, Gemma, I don't need that speech right now." Alma interrupts. "I am not just Jax's old lady. I am his wife. We made vows that were pretty important to me. He fucked up. All of this is on him."

Alma doesn't wait for Gemma to reply as she heads to check out. She really does not need to hear how old ladies need to stick together or any other pro club bullshit. Although what did she expect talking to Gemma, she is Jax's mother, but she knows she can't go to her mother with this. She thinks maybe Donna would be someone to talk to, but she doesn't want to burden the woman with her problems.

Gemma is silent as she follows her. It isn't until they are out of the store and carrying the bags into the car that she speaks. "Look, I'm sorry. I just know this would break Jax's heart."

"As if he didn't break mine?"

Gemma is left speechless. There really isn't anything to say after that. Gemma purses her lips as she looks out into the parking lot. She freezes as she spots a very familiar blonde and the two lock eyes. Gemma's feet begin moving as she reaches into her purse for her gun. She speeds up as the woman realizes she is being chased.

Gemma can hear Alma calling for her, but she is focused on the woman, who finds an escape through Winston pulling up in a truck. Gemma falters as the man that has haunted her nightmares. Her eyes follow the truck that disappears into a tiny dot.

A hand reaches out and touches her shoulder and on instinct Gemma brings up her elbow in defense. She can hear the crunch of a nose.

"Fuck, Gemma!" Alma shouts.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!"

"What the hell, Gemma!" Alma groans as she tries to staunch the bleeding.

"Let's get you to St. Thomas." Gemma amends as she leads Alma back to the car.

Her nose isn't broken, but she has a nasty bruise along the bridge with a black eye to match. Alma knows though something is wrong with Gemma. She feels guilty for not paying attention before. She's been too blinded by her breaking marriage to realize Gemma is still dealing with the after effects of her car accident. Gemma was clearly chasing some girl and she didn't miss how her mother in law was reaching for a gun.

"Who was the girl?" Alma asks Gemma as they drive back to her house.

Gemma side eyes her, but doesn't answer.

"You almost just blew my head off."

"Don't exaggerate." Gemma snarks.

Alma sighs. "The car accident wasn't a car accident was it?"

Gemma doesn't answer until they pull up into Alma's driveway. "The night of Bobby's party... A minivan pulls up behind me. That girl jumps out in a panic. Says her baby's choking it was a goddamn doll in the car seat. She hit me over the back of the head with something. They had me handcuffed to a chain link. There were three of them."

Gemma doesn't add any more, but Alma knows what happened and it makes her feel sick to her stomach. "You need to tell Jax and Clay, Gem."

"No, if I do…" Gemma trails off.

"You know who did this?" Alma probes.

"I know what is going on between you and Jax...no matter what i say or do, I just want the best for my family. I know if Jax finds out about this with the shit going on between you two...he doesn't need that." Gemma says softly.

Alma swallows the lump in her throat. She knows Gemma wants to protect her son from this pain, but she can't not this time. This need for this secret to be quiet is going to make things worse.

"You need to talk to someone, Gemma."

"Well now I have you."

.

.

Alma finds herself sitting on the back patio with a cup of tea in her hands. Gemma took the kids for the rest of the day and Alma is left alone with her thoughts since Gemma's revelation. Alma isn't sure what to do. It's not her place to tell Gemma's story and Gemma did leave out certain pieces so she couldn't even place together who did this to Gemma.

Alma knows it is somehow connected to the club and considering how Jax isn't telling her anything these days, she has no dots to connect.

Alma sighs as she lounges on the lounge chair.

She doesn't know what to do anymore. She knows Gemma means well in wanting to keep their family together, but it's not that simple.

"Hey, you alright?"

Alma turns at the sight of her husband, who is looking at her in concern.

"I'm fine."

"That's a solid shot to the face."

"It was an accident. I'm fine." She states as she looks at him for the first time in days. This is the first time they have spoken since their argument.

"Alma -"

"What Jax?" She snaps.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

Alma chuckles bitterly. "Your words don't mean shit."

[perpetuitys]

AAAA hello everyone i’m peep and this is my independent n impulsive vampire bb michel !! also sorry for being Mad late i’ve been moving/flying for the past couple days but i’m finally settled in and super super excited to rp with you all :~) but Yes this is michel he has an attachment to the sea ...... he’s curious abt everything ..... can be very sarcastic at times .... and more found below !! also def hit me up to plot on discord <3 @uwfmintro​

STATISTICS  

FULL NAME:  michel de la rue NICKNAME(S): michel’s fine AGE:  twenty-five GENDER + PRONOUNS:  cis male + he/him ORIENTATION:  bisexual ZODIAC:  sagittarius sun, libra moon BIRTHDAY: december 3rd, 1802 PLACE OF BIRTH: paris, france OCCUPATION(S):  bartender, helps with the liberation TRAITS: (+) open-minded, honest, adventurous, curious, independent  / (-) turbulent, careless, irresponsible, impulsive, dogmatic

BIOGRAPHY

the following biography page contains the following: death, grief, suicidal ideation.

read at your own risk.  

HUMAN

it was eleven years later and new york was just starting to feel like his home. michel still hated speaking english and the permanent odor was sort of annoying, but he felt like he had a purpose that wasn’t dependent on war. fatigued by the aftermath of the french revolution and disappointed in the end of napoleon’s reign, the de la rue’s left their mother country when michel was fourteen in hopes of creating something new and fresh, devoid of any monarchial rule. his family lived a fairly simple life that was dedicated to running their bakery in brooklyn.

this simple life began to feel quite exhilarating as he found himself falling more and more in love with a newly-immigrated family friend at twenty. ever since meeting colette lyon (which of course was at the bakery — where else) he couldn’t think of anything else. the two remained inseparable into their marriage, too, where the two decided to momentarily elope to the beach despite his parents’ wishes. both colette and michel had a fascination with the sea, perhaps symbolizing the voyage that connected their childhood with their newfound adulthood. this fixation grew as he decided to leave his  family in favor of becoming a fisherman running his own shop at the local fish market (also against his parents’ wishes). and as their family grew to include two children, he believes it truly was the best financial decision he’s ever made (which he was well-aware there weren’t many).

but honestly, michel’s favorite thing about new york had to be the selection of taverns. the routine of waking up early, going out to fish, spending his entire day trying to sell his catches at the market, and coming home to two rowdy toddlers proved to exhaust the brunette both physically and emotionally by the time he was twenty-four. so, it wasn’t a surprise to often see him spending most of his evenings during the week at the local bar, making several short-term friends who also wanted to make the most of their night. however one night felt different as michel became what was most likely the most intoxicated he has ever been with a room with equally intoxicated men who decided that receiving fists hurt good and fighting felt fun. he was too drunk to process the chilled air (perhaps that hurt good, too), but something felt wrong as the men continued beating on him. leaving him bleeding out in the early winter air, it very quickly dawned on him that there would be no more life for him to live. no more colette. or his family and their quaint bakery. never see his children get married. as he made peace with this reality, in his last moments he thought about the sea.

VAMPIRE

everything felt bright and intense as he gasped his first breath of immortality. focusing his attention on how fast his senses were heightening and the excruciating bloodlust, it took a moment for him to realize his bougie surroundings. confused, capricious, and super fucking hungry, aleksander was there to guide him into this new underground world.

which honestly terrified the fuck out of michel. as his senses began to settle, his heart sank to his feet thinking about his death — the stupidity, carelessness and impulsivity causing an eternal separation to the life he worked hard to achieve. he grew depressed and the intense bloodlust that he wasn’t able to get a grasp on wasn’t doing much to uplift him. he depended on the older vampire emotionally as transitioning into a life completely vacant of his family was very challenging as he witnessed the rest of their lives at a distance. this often resulted in michel coming to him, very depressed as he questioned his vampirism, with aleksander always finding a way to lift his spirits and remind him of his purpose. because he saw it in michel that night before he died at the tavern. he saw the charm and how he could make anyone in the room feel like his best friend. he knew that once this cloudiness of despair and self-loathing blows over that a magnetic charisma would lie underneath. something he can use.

so, aleksander stayed beside him. reassured him. and ultimately invited him into his home to live as he would adopt him as a son, passing down his millennia of knowledge on to him and sowing seeds that he hoped to one day reap. luckily, the stages of grief passed away quickly throughout the coming months as michel realized the potential in this unfortunate situation. firstly, he has never seen so much opulence in his life. he heard stories of it, though mostly negative ones as they were all passed down from the french revolution, but now this was able to be his reality. and he was pretty fond of his newfound speed and strength. now at least it was guaranteed he wouldn’t die from another drunken bar fight.

but as he was increasingly noticing the positives of living in the mansion, the negatives began to bother him. or as others call them: helena. you see, with his human siblings, he didn’t have the problem of trust as they all grew up together and shared blood. but it wasn’t long after moving in that michel realized just how necessary the blood relation would be and how significant the corvinus name is in their world. and perhaps another large part of the problem was they didn’t truly see him as a sibling at all. truthfully, the condescension stung at the beginning and resulted in michel spending most days keeping to himself and reading the literature that occupied the walls.

as decades passed and michel was sure colette and the kids had most likely passed too, he found himself integrating back into human society by the end of the nineteenth century. which he surprisingly felt more relieved than disheartened by, as he’d finally be able to get more separation from his older sibling, but perhaps it could also be one of the signs of vampire cynicism creeping in. because, oh boy, did it creep in. the first couple decades of the twentieth century were probably most notably some of the sloppiest years michel had. he began transitioning from blood bags (the mansion always had them on deck) to feeding directly from humans and while he knew never to bite the neck, he felt it hard to resist biting elsewhere. and found it hard to resist in general, often accidentally killing a few people in the process.

however, once magdelena was born, he found himself becoming interested in the family again and decided to clean up his careless feeding act. as she grew older, he became quite fond of her presence and protective, because she sort of reminded him of his own son and daughter who he had left behind. in a way, it felt very cathartic to (practically) raise her; like he was writing a wrong and filling the void that the act of no longer being a father created. being there for her and caring for her gave him a purpose that he lacked up until that point (which probably explains his tendency to overfeed). he came around the house more, helping her as she developed into her vampirism and taught her all the things aleksander had taught him. minus the shitty values. when he would pop back into society, he spent it educating himself on new ideas and theories that inhabited both human and supernatural spheres, mostly out of curiosity and his love for learning if anything. during this time, he also eventually met others of his vampire kind as well as lycans, though more clandestine. many of which soon became his closest friends.

and that’s why he was fairly devastated to know about aleksander’s plans. his stomach twisted knowing that someone who once raised him could be capable of such cruelty. it sickened him — and he let him know it. which, in turn, earned him expulsion from his home of two centuries. maybe some saw it coming — how michel was often distanced from the start — but it still hurt the vampire nonetheless. he lost connection to his first family and it hurt like a bitch to lose it to another, regardless how he felt about them individually. especially to leave behind magdelena, who he felt attached to since her childhood. but he hoped that this would send a statement throughout their underground world. that they should not turn their eyes away from injustices no matter who it’s coming from. he needed to get the vampires to care about this issue and needed to do something to bring awareness and a call to action. so, in comparison, present-day michel is much less gloomy and blindly naive than early-day michel, luckily. although he still feels guilty and a tinge of regret for his association to aleksander, he finds that offering any resources he can in the fight for the liberation is his best way of coping with it.