#and she knows she will forever be dead to him

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 18

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 8.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie tries to come to terms with the news. Jude encounters a person from her past. TRIGGER WARNING: Brief mentions of miscarriage and drugs.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 17

In the silence of Benny’s apartment, Frankie is glued to the edge of the couch. 

The exhaustion has drowned him, pulled him under the waves completely. The cacophony has diminished, his friends and family members thankfully long gone, and Frankie sits alone in the small lounge, in complete disarray from the impromptu party.

Empty plates and glasses litter all available surfaces, and the welcome home banner on the wall has partly fallen off, just hanging limply. The subdued quiet feels almost deafening after the noise of the excitement buzzing around him. His head thuds and his throat feels hoarse. 

His thoughts race, colliding and overlapping like waves crashing against the shore. He can hear them, the roll and lick of the water, bounding and flowing over the rocks and sand. And for a while, he tries to focus on that, and not the world shifting beneath his feet leaving him unsteady and uncertain. 

He leans forward, tossing his cap on the coffee table and runs a hand through his mussed curls. A shaky hand, his fingers are almost throbbing as he squeezes them into a fist.

He attempts to process everything that’s happened. The island, the rescue, the overwhelming flood of emotions from being forcely reunited with his family and friends - and now this. The stark revelation carelessly dumped in his lap that he’s a father. 

He tries not to feel resentful, sympathy from somewhere inside of him resonates and tries to reason with him about Carla and the choices she must’ve considered. He tells himself it’s not her fault, that she was probably scared and clueless on what to do when she assumed like everyone else that he was dead on that flight, but it doesn’t help appease the situation.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but it does little to calm the storm of thoughts gathering on the horizon of his mind. How could he have a child he didn’t know about? The weight of realisation presses down on him and it suddenly feels hard to breathe. 

Footsteps approach and Benny appears in the doorway, carrying two mugs of coffee. He plonks one on the table in front of Frankie in a blue mug with an MMA logo plastered over it, and sits down beside him. 

“Listen man, I'm sorry. The whole party thing was a stupid idea-” Benny begins and Frankie shakes his head. 

“It’s fine, Benny.” Frankie sighs. 

“You sure? I mean, I didn’t think how hard it might be for you, you know?” Frankie nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You look like you’ve been hit by a fuckin’ freight train.” Benny says, carefully, eyes peering at him over the rim of his mug. 

“Feels like it.” He takes a sip of the coffee Benny’s made, hoping the warmth will ground him. Instead, it only amplifies the anxiety swirling in his chest. 

He recognises the sensation all too well - the same gnawing, desperate feeling he used to have when he craved. It’s an itch, an itch that doesn't satiate no matter the amount of scratching and picking at the scab.

His mind spirals further, trying not to sink into that vortex. He remembers the lengths he used to go to, the lies he told, the relationships he shattered. He wonders if he’s even capable of being the father that his child needs.

The thought of cocaine resurfaces vividly. He can almost feel the sting in his nostrils, the rush of euphoria that follows. His heart pounds faster, thudding heavy in his ears, hands trembling further. It’s a visceral reminder of the darkest time in his life and it terrifies him. He hasn’t thought about this since… since the island. 

The waves roll in his ears again and he tries to follow the steady stream of them. 

The island had stripped him down to his barest self. Out there, amidst the endless blue and the harsh reality of survival, there had been no distractions, no temptations. It was just him and the relentless sea and the will to keep going with Jude by his side.

He had no choice but to confront his demons and smite them down because there was no escape, no substance to numb or quiet the unbidden thoughts.

He remembers the initial days on the island, the physical cravings he kept hidden from Jude. They were still strangers then, just starting to co-exist together, and he could still cloak himself away whilst his body yearned for that familiar taste of poison.

But the island, in its harsh and unforgiving way, had grounded him. 

Now back home, that safety net of enforced sobriety is harshly relinquished. Here, in the land of plenty, the risk of relapse looms large and heavy on his shoulders and Frankie is all too aware of that. The knowledge that he could easily get his hands on drugs if he wanted to - if he really wanted to - is both a comfort and a fucking terror. 

“So, Carla told you then?” Benny cuts through his thoughts. 

Frankie nods, running his hand over his tired face. “When were you gonna tell me?”

“Didn’t think it was my place.”

“Not your place? C’mon, man. You let me walk into a fuckin’ bear trap!” Frankie snaps. 

“She wanted to be the one to tell you, Fish. We all thought it was best coming from her.”

“Fuck…” Frankie sighs. “How do the fuck do I even be a father?” 

What does he have to offer, anyway? He’s just a guy who has barely managed to survive, a guy who has struggled to find his place in the world. He doesn't have a stable career or a picture-perfect life to provide as examples. As these thoughts swirl in his mind, Frankie feels another wave of panic wash over him.

What if he isn't cut out for this? What if he can't protect his child from the harsh realities of the world? What if he ends up being a disappointment and a source of pain?

“Well, you start by meeting ‘em. Kids are resilient. They don’t need perfection - they just need consistency and shit.” Benny says flippantly, as he knows. “He’s not even a year-old. He won’t know that you’ve been gone.” He says it so casually and it pisses Frankie off even more. “You won’t screw it up.”

“I’ve already screwed it up. What the fuck do I tell Jude?”

Frankie's mind races through countless scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. He imagines sitting Jude down, trying to find the right words to tell her about the baby, only to see the look of shock and betrayal on her face. He imagines her storming out, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his fears.

In another scenario, he imagines Jude's initial reaction being one of anger and disbelief, followed by a painful silence as she processes the news and breaks down at the recall of her own loss on the island. He imagines her accusing him of betraying her trust, of choosing the baby she’ll never accept over their relationship. Jude listens to his confession with a cold detachment, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and scorn.

He imagines her telling him that she can't be with someone who has betrayed her so deeply, who has kept such a monumental secret from her. He imagines her leaving him, leaving their relationship in ruins.

And then, in the scenario he fears the most, she scoops him up in her arms and tells him everything will be alright, and that they can do this together. 

“Tell her the truth.” Benny cuts in.

Frankie snorts into his coffee cup. 

“She’ll want to help you. Be a cool step-mom or something.”

“You don’t fuckin’ get it.” Frankie says, standing. He paces for a few moments. “On the island… Jude and I, we… we lost a baby. She had a miscarriage.”

He can hear it, the sounds of Jude’s sobs ringing in his ears. The sound of the water lapping over her bloodied thighs as he waded with her cradled in his arms into the cleansing ocean. 

He stroked her hair, his own eyes brimming with tears. “I know, I know… it’s okay, you’re okay.” He repeated over and over his voice trembling. “Está bien, hermosa. Estás bien.” (It’s okay, beautiful you’re okay.)

Hours turned into days as Frankie watched helplessly as Jude was doubled over in pain, mirroring his own emotional agony tearing through him, and crying and sleeping through it as best as she could.

The flashback shifts to the aftermath. Jude was asleep, her face tear-streaked. Frankie had walked down to the beach, the weight of their unexpected loss heavy on his shoulders. He looked out at the endless ocean, the waves crashing against the shore. He envisioned walking through the water.

Just keep walking, keep going, don’t stop...

But he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t let her face that anguish alone. It would be cruel to lose them both. And Frankie wasn’t cruel. He was weak, but never cruel. He couldn’t be selfish anymore. He had to go on for her. To keep himself on the straight and narrow and strong. 

He had to do it all for her.  

“Shit, man.” Benny says, wiping his chin. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“We didn’t even know. There was so much fuckin’ blood…” Frankie says, his eyes watering. “There was nothing we could do. And now finding out that I have a-a kid? I’ve had one all this time when I’ve told her I don’t… fuck. It’s just fucked.”

“It is fucked. And I’m sorry, Fish. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. You got fuckin’ shit on out there, man.”

“You don’t know the half of it, hermano.” (Brother.)

 “But you got a second shot here.” 

“Benny,” Frankie says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“The kid, he’s fucking great. Really cute and-”

“BENNY!” Frankie yells, and he throws his coffee mug across the lounge, shattering on impact against the wall. 

“What the fuck, man?” Benny growls. 

“Jesus…” Frankie groans. “I need you to just stop talking. Just fuckin’ stop.” Frankie bites as he marches past him and out the front door. 

Two weeks pass and it’s a long two weeks that feels more and more isolating as the time wears on. Frankie’s days blur together as he works to reassemble the shattered pieces of his old life. 

His first stop was the barber. Sitting in the chair, he watched the shaggy, salt-encrusted locks fall away, revealing a face he barely recognised. He caught sight of the faint scars running the length of his neck in the mirror which his hair had hid from him for so long that he had seemingly forgotten about them, until the smell of aviation fuel filled his nostrils when he glanced at them in the mirror.

He looked around at the salon floor in horror as he felt the cold ocean water rising up to his neck as the barber carried on snipping away, whilst Frankie started to drown and scream for help. 

He came to a few seconds after, and shook the infecting thoughts away as he glanced at his manic expression regarding him back in the mirror.

A shaved and shaped beard and his curls tamed to an acceptable length, he adjusted his trusty cap back on his head and headed over to his appointment with his doctor. He followed up from the hospital in Cape Town and had a second round of blood tests that confirmed he did indeed have Dengue Fever on the island, but had recovered well. 

He was vaccinated for tetanus, given some more dietary advice and advised to have some counselling, which he declined profusely before heading over to the bank. 

He stood in line, feeling strangely out of place in the bustling environment. When his turn came, he spoke in a quiet voice to sort out his account, payments and other financial matters. Which then proceeded into having a long drawn out argument with the cashier about his money and access to it, and having to file paperwork to reverse his death certificate, which was an unusual thing for someone clearly living having to do.

The cause of death on his certificate was marked as unknown; missing presumed dead, which was an unsettling thought that swelled around in his gut like the choppy seas. 

 Days later and at the bank again, Frankie was taken into a side area with an account manager, and whilst they tracked down his account and missing money, his thoughts wandered back to Jude, never straying too far from her at all. 

He made the decision then, under the bright fluorescent lights of the bank that hurt his eyes a little. He wasn’t ready to tell Jude about the baby yet. He wasn’t even ready to see the baby himself. The thought of facing reality, of explaining everything when he still didn’t really understand it himself, was too much to bear right now. He had a list of tasks that he had to see through.

His mind couldn’t cope with straying away from that list. 

After the bank, he walked through the streets of Pensacola. The familiar sights felt alien. He stopped at a small coffee shop, sipping a cup of black coffee which seemed to be the only staple in his diet lately. He knew he should eat more, but his stomach had been constantly churning ever since the news. 

He sat and stared out the window. People passed by, oblivious to his inner turmoil. The sense of their normalcy made him feel bitter and was jarring. He felt like an outsider peeping in at his own life. 

The days turned, and every day he and Jude spoke on the phone. Texting at random intervals, a long conversation telling each other about their day and all the intricacies within it.The pining and longing in their voices prevalent and a constant reminder of their pain and suffering at being apart. He told her everything, everything he did, how he was getting on with the list. 

Everything except the baby, and he felt fucking awful keeping it from her. 

And the calls kept coming from the press too. Unknown numbers sent to ignore, lengthy voicemails about opportunities to tell his story. His phone was blowing up the more the days went on. 

“They called again. They wanna talk to you.” Benny says, relaying the messages when he gets in. They’d gotten Benny’s number too. “A few chat shows have requested to have you on them. You’re a fuckin’ celebrity.” Benny remarks. 

“Like who?” Frankie enquires non-committal.

��Jimmy Kimmel, Ellen. That guy that ain’t funny, but thinks he is-”

“Conan.”

“Yeah. They all want an exclusive interview with you and Jude to hear what happened.”

“Well, I don’t even know if I wanna do it.” Frankie sighs, with sleepy, disinterested eyes.

“They’ll probably offer some good money. You could do that with that, get yourself a place again?” Benny murmurs, flicking through channels as Frankie flops down on the couch next to him.

“I’m cramping your style, huh?” 

“No, man. I told you, mi casa, su casa,” Benny smiles. (My house is your house)

Frankie nods, though the reassurance feels thin. He knows he has a long way to go, more boxes to check off his list and sorting a place of his own is definitely on there. But for now he focuses on reclaiming the parts of himself that have been lost to the island, to the addiction, to the overwhelming guilt. 

In his quiet moments, he thinks about Jude, hoping she’s finding her own ways to heal. He knows he can’t avoid the truth forever, but for now he takes solace in the small victories, each one a step towards the man he wants to be for her. 

“You thought about getting back to work?”

“Yeah. I’ll go see Dustin soon. He might have some work for Lazarus Rising. I need a fuckin’ shower.” Frankie stands up.

“Eddie called too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Said you should stop by the centre. I think you should, too.” Benny encourages. “Might be good for you to talk to someone.”

The memories of his time in rehab are still fresh in his mind - the group therapy sessions, the one-on-one counselling coffee sessions with Eddie, the endless introspection. It had been a necessary step in his journey towards recovery, a journey he had thought was behind him. But now, faced with the prospect of returning, he feels a familiar sense of resistance building within him.

He knows talking to his sponsor could provide some much-needed guidance and support. But the thought of stepping foot back into the rehab centre, of facing his demons head-on, fills him with a sense of dread. 

Frankie nods lazily and heads into the bathroom, sealing himself inside and lets the water drown him. 

Back in New York, Jude follows a similar pattern in slowly rebuilding her life over the same two week period. 

She gets her hair cut, chopping off more than she actually wants to, but after a year of sun and sea water damage, the hairdresser advises it’s best to go as short as she’s comfortable with, opting for a shoulder length bob. When she runs her hands through the choppy style, she’s amazed that it doesn’t feel like straw anymore. It’s almost like magic.

Her father buys her a car and helps her go to the bank to access her accounts and her photography business she’d had before shit went down in the plane crash. She wants to buy a new camera, but her mom has kept her trusty old Nikon, and all of her personal effects such as clothes, jewellery, photographs in the spare room at their house when she’d moved in following the split from Nate.

“I couldn’t bear to throw any of it out,” her mom explained as they both blubbed, holding each other tightly. “I just knew in my heart you’d come home one day. And you did, baby.”

Jude buys a new, up to date iPhone model and e-mails a load of her old clients, getting back in contact again ready to get back into some work. Life has to continue, right?

And the phone rings, each day, talking with Frankie and digesting the day. Figuring out when they’ll see each other again because she misses him more than anything. It also rings incessantly with unknown numbers and voicemails being left about telling their story to the whole world. In the end she stops answering, only swiping across the screen when it’s Frankie’s name on the caller ID. 

Jude goes for an eye test and checks in with her dentist to get a polish and a check-up. She goes back to the doctor to check on her overall health too. She isn’t putting on the weight quickly as advised, but slow steps are needed in that department.

Although her lack of appetite worries her mom as she pushes away barely eaten plates full of food that her mom loads up for her. It’ll take a while to return to normal.

Jude's nightmares have become increasingly frequent in the weeks too, since they’d returned from the island. The trauma of their ordeal seems to weigh heavily on her, manifesting itself in the form of vivid, terrifying dreams that leave her shaken and exhausted. No matter how hard she tries to shake them off, they linger like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over her days and nights without Frankie there to calm her.

Jude’s walking down the block after her dentist appointment; the smells and sounds of her old neighbourhood haunts in New York City returning to her gradually as the days merge. She clocks the garbage truck loading up the bags from the sidewalk, the smells of the fried onions from the hotdog vendor as she passes it.

A lexicon of indistinct chatter ebbs and flows around her, the background noise to simple life that she’s missed out on for what feels like so long.

She thinks about the airport when they landed at JFK -  how all attention was on them - on her, and it makes her skin prickle up in her sweater uncomfortably. All those eyes staring, casting assumptions, asking questions; she feels a little nauseous when she thinks too deeply about it.

Unsure how Frankie can muster the strength to seemingly ignore it, how he can switch off and not retaliate. Here, as she passes through the people of New York, the unassuming vox-populi and looks at their faces that aren’t looking back at hers, her invisibility suddenly feels daunting. 

A sea of people seem to swell and surge past her - cars honking, people shouting and the constant hum of city life droning heavy in her ears. It’s so vastly different from the island, where silence was the constant companion. 

Jude tries to steady her breathing, but her heart pounds in her chest. The crowds pass from all sides, making her feel trapped, unable to escape. Every direction she looks, there are more people, more noise, more chaos. Panic rises in her throat and she fumbles for her phone, her fingers slipping as she scrolls for Frankie’s name. 

“Please pick up, please pick up…” she whispers to herself, feeling the edges of her vision blur with tears. She feels ridiculous, embarrassed even. A former shadow of herself. 

“Hey, hermosa.”

Hearing his voice is like flipping a switch. The chaos around her seems to instantly dim, the noise fading into the background like waves receding. She always prided herself on her independence, she travelled the world by herself taking photographs and seeking adventure, and now in the familiarity of her own home city she’s rendered paralysed in fear. 

“Hey you,” she gasps. 

“Are you alright? You sound outta breath?” Frankie smiles down the phone. 

“Yeah… no, I’m fine. I’m fine. Just out and about. Getting shit done.” She reassures, and his chuckle down the phone soothes her frayed nerves and she can finally muster the strength to walk again.

She closes her eyes and tries to push away the self-doubt that threatens to consume her. She’s faced worse than this - survived a damn plane crash, endured the harsh realities of life on a deserted island. She can handle a little bit of city noise. 

“Just needed to hear your voice.” She smiles. 

“I know the feeling,” he husks down the phone. “How’s the Big Apple treating you today?”

“A little overwhelming, but then again when isn’t it? How’s your day been?”

“All the fun and exciting stuff of getting my life back on track.” He snorts.

“Sounds exhausting,” she says, genuinely interested as the noise fades out around her. “Any progress on the job front?”

“Actually yeah, I was thinking of calling up my old boss. Maybe see if there’s anything he’s got for a man who's back from the dead.”

Jude chuckles. “Well, that's a great idea. As long as he doesn't send you to Madagascar again.”

“Yeah. Been there, done that.” Frankie chuckles. “And I think… I-I should probably check in with my sponsor too.”

Jude pauses, her heart clenching at the mention of his sponsor. She knows how hard Frankie has fought against his addiction, and she worries about him facing those demons again now that they’re back in the real world.

"You still there?"

“Yeah... Yeah. That sounds like a really good idea,” she says softly.

As she listens to him talk about his day, she can’t help but think about what life will be like for him now. The island had been a brutal, relentless test of their survival skills, but in some ways, it had also been a sanctuary from the temptations and pressures of the real world.

Now, Frankie would have to face his addiction head-on, surrounded by all the triggers and stresses that had led him down that path in the first place.

She considers the strength it will take for him to stay clean, to rebuild his life from the ground up. And she worries about how she can support him through it, knowing that her own struggles are far from over.

“Frankie,” she says quietly, “I’m proud of you. For everything. And I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Hearing her say that she’s proud of him makes Frankie's heart sink. Her words of praise are a sharp reminder of his deceit. The guilt gnaws at him, making it hard to accept her praise. He can’t do this. Not to her.  The words are almost there, on the tip of his tongue… 

“I fuckin’ love you, hermosa.”

She smiles and he can hear it. “I love you, too. We’ll figure it out, all of it.” 

They talk for a while longer, the conversation flowing easily as they share stories and plans. By the time they hang up, Jude feels a little more grounded, a little more herself.

The city is still loud and overwhelming, but with Frankie’s voice in her ear and his support behind her, she knows she can face whatever comes next.

She’s still swimming in confused and muddled thoughts when she steps off the subway and up into the quieter suburbs of her neighbourhood, when someone swerves into her.

She looks up to be met with a sickeningly familiar face.

“Holy shit!” Nate exclaims aghast.

Jude immediately flusters, running her hands through her hair as she regards her ex-fiancé staring back at her like he’s seeing a frail ghost. 

Without hesitating he clings onto her, engulfing her inside his arms, and the stench of his cologne is all too familiar and poisonous as she breathes it in. 

“Fuck, look at you!” He regards her, still hanging onto her arms and staring right at her as she’s rooted speechless to the spot. Those eyes of his staring right back at her, with an astounded twitch of his lips beaming into the grin he always wore.

It still cuts deep, even after all this time. Since being back she hadn’t thought a lot of him, but knew that maybe at some point his name would crop up in conversation; they had friends in the same circles.

But here he is, on the damn sidewalk with her in the middle of the city that houses eight point three million, giving way to some weirdly fucked up fate or kismet. The isolation on the island had given her ample time to reflect, to heal - or so she thought.

“Nate.” She greets timidly, running out of breath, and it feels like his tightening grip on her arms won’t ever let her go.   

“Oh my God, Jude. Shit... I can’t believe it! I saw on the news that you’d come home. I tried to call you, but... your number just rings off. Fuck! I thought you were dead!”

He holds her tight in his arms again, his arms crushing her against him and it leaves her jangled.

“No. Still alive...” She shakes her head slowly in disbelief, regarding him and remembering him all over again. His hair is shorter, but his face and his eyes remain the absolute same.

His bewildered vortex for a mouth slowly morphs into an astonished, wide grin at her, and she can’t help but smile back at his goofiness as though it’s infecting her motor functions and facial muscles.

He finally lets go of her arms. “Jesus... I can’t believe it, you’re really here. Where are you at, you staying at your mom’s?” He enquires, staring into her and not looking away.

Being the centre of Nate’s attention was something she craved once, now it feels off. Strange and unsettling. She feels like she might throw up.

She nods. “Yeah, I uh, need to find a new place, you know?”

“Yeah, shit.” He nods contemplating it all. “They rented it out not long after… your old place. Some weird old lady with a load of plants lives there now.”

All she can do is nod sympathetically.

“Wow. Look at you. You’re really here.” He says in wonderment.

His plague of a smile is creaking across his face and making it burn brightly at her. Laying down the foundations for certain destruction, making her remember all those swampy feels she once had for him. Back in a time when life wasn’t complicated; before the survival and the horror of the island. 

“H-how are you?” She asks, cringing almost. 

“Same old,” he snorts.

Same old… yeah, I bet you are. 

“I mean, I... I was beside myself when I found out what happened to your flight. I was calling and calling your cell but getting no answer. Your mom called me, told me what had happened. They didn't find anybody alive.” He zones out a bit as he speaks. “I couldn’t believe it. I was devastated, you know, because of how things were left between us?” 

Their eyes meet, and a jolt of shock ripples through her body. Nate’s expression mirrors her own - surprise, confusion, and something else. Regret, maybe? It's hard to tell.

He steps towards her, tentatively, as if he isn't sure she’s entirely real.

Jude bites down on the insides of her cheeks as she listens to him speak with a genuine sombre look about his traitorous, slick features. He’s the last person she expected to see, and the one person she hoped never to encounter again.

Nate had been the love of her life until she discovered his final betrayal. The memories of finding out about his cheating comes flooding back, the pain as raw as if it had happened yesterday. Jude had left to escape him, to escape the memories, and to find herself again. And we all know how that panned out…

But now, here he is, standing just a few feet away, looking as if he hasn't aged a day. Like the last year of her hardships and struggles are brushed off so carelessly, because he could never understand what it was like. 

“I went to your funeral,” he says, now staring at something on the pavement only he can see. “I read a poem.”

“You did?” She enquires frowning with confusion. Nate read a poem?

“Yeah, never thought I’d have to do that,” he looks at her again. “You cut your hair. It suits you, you look really pretty.”

“What poem was it?” She asks, ignoring the compliment and feeling her heart accelerate.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, just one I found on Google. Sounded nice when I read it, you know?” 

Yeah. Says it all. 

“But fuck, you’re back!” Nate exclaims. “How are you doing, are you feeling alright?” 

How had she been? The question seems absurd. She’s been through hell and back, both emotionally and physically. But standing here now, looking at him, she realises that despite everything, she’s survived. She’s stronger than she’s ever given herself credit for.

Jude adjusts her purse on her shoulder that suddenly feels like it's weighted with heavy boulders.

“I’m back,” she says “and I’m okay, I think... It’s strange.”

“Well, let’s hang out, let’s talk. I mean, I missed the fuck out of you. You hungry, we can grab some food and catch up? Tell me your stories?” He throws his thumb over his shoulder eagerly. “Let’s go to our place.”

Our place… 

She shakes her head, hearing heavy fuzzing inside her ears. It’s all too surreal to see him, standing before her in all of his vapid, self-centred glory. But despite it all, that familiarity about him is somewhat oddly comforting amongst the frazzled angst that has been swamping her as of late.

She feels a surge of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. Part of her wants to turn and run, to avoid the confrontation and the inevitable reopening of old wounds.

But another part of her, the part that had spent countless nights on that island replaying their relationship over and over, knows she needs some closure.

“Come on, we need to catch up,” Nate says, taking her hand and making the decision for her, pulling her along.

And before she knows it, a stream of time has whooshed by her, similar to when you’re drunk and blackout and there are gaps in your memory. How did I get here? Why am I here? 

She’s now sat opposite him again, with a hot chocolate that isn;t hot at all, plonked in front of her in the same café they used to frequent together. 

Nate tries his best to look collected as he sits back, and he watches her eyes avoid his deliberate yearning expression. Yet, the apologetic glance he throws her way assures him that Jude has read him like a book - a cheap paperback with no pictures.

But does he even realise that the situation cuts her open like razors slicing into skin? That the mere notion of them even sitting here like this, painfully far from each other despite their close proximity, squeezed into this little brown and beige booth, rips her to shreds over and over?

A shadow passes over Nate’s face. "Jude, I know I hurt you. More than words can say. I've had a lot of time to think about what I did, and I'm so sorry. If I could take it back, I would."

And the lacerations keep coming. 

She looks at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. But all she sees is sincerity. And yet, the wounds feel too fresh, the betrayal too deep.

“I didn’t - I couldn’t be with anyone else after that, you know? I just kept thinking about you, and it hurt so much.” Nate explains.

“Nate-”

She tries to talk again but the words don’t come, nothing. A lumpy block, swelling full of dismay and regret and that uncomfortable itch blooming all over her skin like being clad in a sweater your Nana knits with that prickly wool.

“I couldn’t sleep thinking you were dead. It was just weird knowing I’d never see you again, you know?” He continues to load up his gun and take aim at her, pelting bullets into her body and watching her die. 

He watches as her fingers encircle the rim of her mug, moving in the same direction of the ever slowing clock on the back wall behind her; her head down and avoiding his burning gaze.

Staring at the chocolaty contents of her mug with clumps of whipped cream bobbing on the surface like sour milk, as if her very life depends on it.

“I didn’t think I would ever see anyone again.” She admits quietly. 

“Even me?” He asks as her head rises slowly to look at him. 

She nods and he smiles, killing her all over again. 

It was true, she did think she wouldn’t ever see him again as she spent time on the island. Sitting on her regular spot on the sun-bleached rocks, staring out at the endless expanse of the ocean. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, a constant reminder of the passage of time. It was her fourth month on the island with Frankie, and solitude had become both her enemy and her companion.

The days blurred together, but the nights were the hardest. In the quiet darkness, whilst Frankie lightly snored beside her, her mind wandered back to Nate on occasion, and the memories she tried so hard to bury surfaced with brutal clarity.

One particular night stood out in her memory, as vivid as if it were happening again. She had been lying in the makeshift shelter she and Frankie had built, the air heavy with the scent of salt and damp sand. Unable to sleep, she found herself reliving the moment she discovered Nate’s first betrayal.

Jude had come home early from a work trip away, excited to surprise him with tickets to their favourite band's concert. But as she walked into their apartment, she noticed the unusual silence. No music, no TV, just a quiet that felt out of place. She called out his name, but there was no answer. Her heart began to race as she moved towards the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she saw them - Nate and another woman, tangled in each other’s arms.

The shock hit her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. Jude stumbled back, unable to process the scene before her. Her vision blurred with tears, and she felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under her.

The nights after the discovery had been a blur of crying, screaming, and asking herself why. Why hadn’t she seen the signs? Why hadn’t he told her he was unhappy?

Why wasn’t she enough?

She had replayed every conversation, every interaction, looking for clues she might have missed. Nate had knelt in front of her, tears streaming down his face, begging for forgiveness. He had told her it was a mistake, that it would never happen again, that he loved her more than anything. His words were a band-aid to her wounded heart, and despite her better judgement, Jude let him talk her round. He was good at that, saying the things she wanted to hear. She loved him deeply, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. So, she stayed. 

But the betrayal didn’t end there. Months later, she found herself in a similar situation - this time, a text message from another woman. The hurt was just as sharp, the betrayal just as deep. Again, Nate had begged for forgiveness, made promises he couldn’t keep. And again, she stayed. Each time, she hoped it would be different, that he would change, that their love would be enough.

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

The betrayals had left a deep scar, one that her time on the island was supposed to heal. But healing wasn’t linear. There were days when she felt stronger, more in control. And then there were nights like that on the island, when the grief felt as fresh as the day she found out.

She remembered throwing the concert tickets into the trash, the plans they had made crumbling like ash in her hands, and all sense of control and the person she was began feeling more and more distant.

“I just wanted you to come back to me so badly.” Nate says. “You’re so strong.”

Jude shakes her head. “No, I’m not really. I just... survived there. I know that if it wasn’t for Frankie-”

“Frankie, the other survivor?”

“Yeah, the other survivor.” Although he’s so much more than that. He isn’t just a survivor, he’s a fighter. “Without him, I wouldn’t be here now, that much I do know.”

Nate smiles softly. “You're stronger than you think.”

He echoes Frankie’s words and she feels it sear through her bone marrow.  

It’s like those words spilling out of his mouth, those omissions about concern for her are being pulled languidly from him like colourful, silk scarves from a crummy kids magician’s trick. She’ll pull and pull all the words she wants to hear him say - that she would have given her right arm for him to say to her once - and the length will get longer and longer until they’re in a heap on the floor beside her ready to kick under the table out of the way, much like he used to do with her feelings. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this...” Jude says, clasping her hands around her hot chocolate, which is still tepid much to her dismay. A whole year and nothing has changed in this world. 

“Because you want to, maybe?” Nate suggests, sitting forward. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you. I really can’t. But I wish more than anything I was there for you, to have taken care of you.”

“I had... Frankie.” 

Without Frankie, she would be dead, she knows that. She feels it and it’s visceral. On the island, Jude had found solace in the simplicity of survival - building shelter, finding food, and keeping a fire going. Those tasks had given her purpose, a way to focus her mind away from the pain.

But even in the busy throes of survival, memories of Nate slipped in under the cracks, uninvited and unwelcome. And she knew she would have been dead without Frankie. Frankie, with his untamed beard and kind eyes, who had been stranded on the island with her. He had been her rock, her lifeline, her only connection to sanity. When she was too weak to gather food, he had brought her fish. When she was too despondent to talk, he simply sat silently beside her.

He had listened when she needed to talk, and given her space when she needed to be alone. Frankie had sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, offering silent support. He didn’t try to fix her; he simply stayed, letting her know she wasn’t alone. He loved her unconditionally, without reason or excuse. 

Nate reaches for her hand and she doesn't flinch away. She feels it as he strokes over her knuckles and watches as his thumb does that soft glide over the peaks of them. His fingers clasp around hers and hold on as she stares down at them unable to register the feeling fully. Just aware it’s happening and she’s allowing it to. 

She looks up and can see Frankie’s face instead of Nate’s and she snatches her hand back from him. 

“I really missed you,” Nate says to her with those drilling eyes that swirl and lure her in like a Siren song. 

There’s a moment shared between them, a silence that lingers and yet isn’t uncomfortable or awkward in its entirety. It’s full of nostalgia, full of that sepia wonderment and awe of when the times between them were good. The times when she was naïve and unassuming, and completely and irrevocably in love with this man to the point that she couldn’t breathe without the fibres of her lungs tearing and suffocating her.

The feeling akin to those times she found him in bed tangled up with other women too, and the stabbing pain that she felt then registers once more inside her heart, and she remembers all the reasons why he’s no good for her. 

All the reasons why she walked away, and all those reasons why she got on that damned plane and crash landed in the middle of the ocean and ultimately fell in love with another man.

Nate’s phone buzzes on the table beside them and Jude watches his eyes glance at it and then his face changes. That small smirk slips out of his mouth like a cobra.

All snakes have two faces, the curious one you see testing the air with it’s forked tongue, and then the one right before they attack and sink their fangs into your leg. Nate’s fangs are out as he picks up the phone and his busy thumbs tap on the screen. 

“Who’s that?” Jude feels herself asking casually as she sips her hot chocolate. Déjà vu playing on a sickening loop like she asked all those times before. 

“Just a friend,” he says with that smirk still on his lips as he continues to stare into the screen. 

“Right.” She says, knowing full well it’s more than just a friend. They were never just his friends. Nate doesn’t simply just have friends. All of his friends he’s inserted his dick into at some point.

As hurt and as angry as she had been with Nate all those times previous, watching him now Jude feels some sort of sympathy blooming for him. He will always be this - flighty, non-committal. Worried that if he let himself belong to just one person that he would miss out on something, something spectacular.

The irony is, he had something spectacular, and he let it go.

Suffering through the same repetitive status-quo as a chronic commitment-phobe, he will never have what Jude has with Frankie; he’ll never feel that same sense of relief or blissful peace as she does when swamped inside of Frankie’s strong arms. Able to shut out the noise of the world until there’s nothing else except for his skin on hers and his fingertips dipping into her soul to calm it. 

She pities Nate now, pities the man who she once thought hung the moon. But yet this man right here was placed into her life to break her heart, she understands that now. She had to go through the pain and misery and self-loathing to carry on this journey; to take those steps onto that doomed flight, the wheels set in motion to bring her to something else utterly spectacular.

To endure through the heartache, the struggle, the life-altering fight for survival to be with the man who she was supposed to be with. 

Everything happens for a reason. 

“Now you’re back, maybe we could try again, slowly...” Nate suggests, and it takes Jude a moment to register he’s now addressing her.

She feels sick, his words slowly sinking into her body infecting her, even though she wills them not to. She shakes her head breathing in deeply, breathing in that sweet clarity once more.

What the hell are you doing here?!

“You loved me right? We were good together.” Nate sways.

“I did, Nate.” Jude nods, “until you broke my heart. I was already dead before I washed up on that island, because of you.” She snaps to him, staring him right in his eyes that frown at her words.

He breathes out slowly after the short, venomous outburst as she quickly surveys the damage around the room. Honesty always cuts deep like a knife and she now knows it, probably so does half the café. Luckily no-one seems to have given a damned thought to them and their grey cloud swirling. 

“Don’t say that. I’ve changed, we can work it out.” And in his simple little mind, he truly believes that they can - she sees it on his face that still contains that slick smile that can tempt her into the water, luring her to her death.

Watching evilly as she drowns and pleads for him to save her, but he won’t. He’ll simply watch as the waves take Jude under and fill her lungs with water. He will be the death of her and she isn’t willing to die anymore. Not when she has something else entirely to live for.

“It’s true. I can’t forget what you did, but I can forgive you. If anything this experience has taught me that life is too fucking short to hold grudges, Nate.”

He looks hopeful, a glimmer growing inside of his eyes. Nate knows this is the end, but he fights for it like an obedient soldier brainwashed into thinking that glory will prevail. And she’s not entirely sure why.

“You’ll never change, it took me a while to figure that out. But I moved on. I healed. I found someone else, someone who really loves me.”

“Who?” Nate questions her, perplexed. 

She shakes her head like he can’t be serious. He knows who. She stands suddenly, feeling like enough time has been wasted already and it all clicks into place. It’s him, it’s always been him - Frankie. And she’s a fool to deny herself from him, to deny him from her. 

The decision had been mutual. They both understood the importance of re-establishing their individual identities before forging ahead together. Frankie had gone back to Florida to reconnect with family and tie up loose ends, while Jude returned to the city to reclaim her career and identity.

But the separation is harder than she’d anticipated. Every night, she finds herself staring out at the city, unable to sleep without him, thinking of the island - of Frankie. She misses his calming presence, his reassuring touch, and the way he can make her laugh even in the darkest moments.

They had shared so much - surviving against all odds, leaning on each other for strength and comfort. Their bond was unbreakable. They had faced death together, survived the harshest conditions, and found solace in each other. Now, being apart feels like a step backward and a pointless one at that.

They can recover from this ordeal together; they’re a united front - a team. The two of them against that island, against the world and conquering it together. She can’t be apart from him for a moment longer and they’re both fools to think otherwise. 

 “You and I, Nate? We were done long, long ago. There’s nothing else to say except I wish you well.” 

Yeah, no hate, no evil insults because after all, the poor sap really does live in cloud cuckoo land thinking everything will have a rosy ending, when in reality Jude can just see that he’s a terrified man cowering in the corner, scared to give someone his heart. 

“Where are you going?” Nate asks her, placing his phone down on the table and turning in his seat.

“I need to go.” Jude says with clarity. 

“Well, give me your number, let’s spend some time together, yeah?” Nate suggests in his last ditch attempt at clinging on.

Jude shakes her head defiantly. “Goodbye Nate.”

Outside, she calls Frankie’s number again and when his voice greets her on the other end, she instantly feels giddy.

Jude feels a weight lift off her shoulders, replaced by a sense of clarity and resolve.

“Come back to the city, Frankie. We can sort out our lives, but we don’t have to do it apart.” She smiles.

“I’ll be there the day after tomorrow,” he says without hesitation. “Just got something to wrap up here.”

They can do this. They’re a partnership. There’s nothing they can’t overcome together. This is different to what she had with Nate - no secrets, no lies. 

“I love you, Frankie.” Jude says, breathing down the phone. 

“I love you, too.” Frankie replies, as he stands outside Carla’s house and braces himself to knock on the door.

To be continued...

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[heyhay13]

Lightning Round QnA!

We had over 250 questions in the form and we focused on ones that were very open to anyone in the cast. So specific detail questions got left out :(

Here's a lightning round of questions to answer for y'all and my ask box is open if you have more!

Rae/Heyhay Questions

What happened to Icarus's birds?? We know Rae said he'd take care of them, but with the birds being wacked and Icarus whole memory type thing, what would happen with that.

Sherb and I talked about this a bit and landed on the birds seeking out Rae and he builds an aviary for the strange new little friends following him around. I might even write a fic for it!

Heyhay how long did the scrapbook (shown at the end) take to be made?

I worked on it for nearly a month and a half between organizing with the artists and making it myself!

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

To Rae/Hayhay: what was your favorite memory to make in the Always Remember Book?

I think probably all of the wedding details. I loved talking with my friends to plan out the details and outfits SO MUCH and a lot of the poses are based on my own wedding photos!

Are there any plot lines that you wish you could have done or explored more in depth, but couldn't due to time?

We initially had some ideas for finding a few more Telchin temples, including Project Protetus. I really like building the temple/facilities so that would have been fun!!

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

We usually plan out rough ideas for a stream in dms and then meet 30 minutes before a stream to go over everything, dry run some things like flight paths, and do sound checks!

Out of all the characters on fable smp, which one do you think you could win in a fight against?

Ven lol

Will we see other versions of the fable characters in other smp's like Bound?

You might >:3

If your character didn’t ascend, what would they be the god of? And if they did ascend, were there any other domains they could have been the god of other than the domain they got?

Rae's took FOREVER to actually land on. I was really stuck on wanting something that felt more correct than Knowledge and we tossed around a lot of ideas until landing on Wonder.

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

Literally only Raax and Ocie's original partners (Rust, Jerry, Shawn) were planned! The others came about naturally as the lore progressed.

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

How old is Rae in the time period that Rye made in Rae’s epilogue

Not an exact age for Rae, but his epilogue takes place when Vaeh is roughly 4-5 years old.

The first two seasons have “names” (endstone reset and skulk reset) but what would be season three’s?

I like to think it'd be called the "Last Reset"

What is your favourite kind of fanfictions written about your character? (Tropes/themes/etc)

I'm a massive sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics-

Clarification Questions

What was that one gold aura building near the temple of creation in S1?

It was a build from Sherb's hardcore world at that time!

Why did Rae remember Icarus? I thought everyone was supposed to forget but I might’ve misunderstood

Rae remembers Icarus as a child up until when Icarus' first death would have been! Isla would also remember Icarusa as a child as well.

Was the release me book from season one written by fable?

Yes!

What is Haley? She came back from the dead but no body ever said if Midas made her come back or if she was a god.

Midas brought her back, switching her and Fable's places so he would go back into Purgatory

Why couldn’t Haley see quixis’ changes from purgatory?(and fable)

There is no record of Quixis in the Akashic Records. This is also why Icarus is missing from the records in Rae's epilogue!

General Questions

Are you guys gonna do another smp where its everyone as the same cast?

Nope, not with this exact cast at this time, but we all are on a bunch of other smps you can check out! Mer, Bound, Siege, and more!

Is there a reason behind all of the seeds you use in Minecraft? Or is it just the first biome that pops up is the new setting for the season?

We actually look really hard for a good world seed that we like. For season 3, we really wanted a good spot that the tree could be near the ocean and this seed worked out great for that!

Will we be able to have a world file of S3?

YES - it's coming soon!

[ayyynne]

Buck wakes up at some stupid hour of the night with a strange feeling that for the first time in months he needs to text Bobby, like he did every day when we first woke up from his coma.

Except his usual "hey Cap. My brain just needs to know that you're alive. Text me when you wake up?" never gets answered. And he's not really expecting one at 2am, but he still can't fall back asleep.

So he's wide awake when his phone rings again just a little while later. And why the hell is Hen calling him at this hour. Somehow he already knows the answer. He's already grabbing his keys and slipping on shoes as he answers the phone. She gets right to the point.

"they're both in the hospital. Athena is stable. Bobby's heart stopped. There was a fire. Cedar's. That's all I know. I'm heading there now. Calling Chim next, can you call Eddie?"

There's no need for a "holy fuck" or "oh my God," she already knows. They're beyond that right now.

"Harry and May and Michael?" He asks as he runs to the Jeep.

"Called May first. Harry was at a friend's. Shes calling Harry and Michael. If Eddie needs to drop Christopher off, Karen is still home with Denny"

"thanks." And the line clicks and he's immediately asking Siri to call Eddie, not even thinking about the Shannon/Kim/Marisol bullshit because that handful of hours ago feels like a million years ago. He thinks for a second Eddie might not answer. He does by the thrid ring.

"Cap. Athena. Fire. Hospital. Cedar's." Bucks not even sure his brain could think of complete sentences anyways even if he wanted too. "Karen home Denny if Chris needs it" he adds. Almost a full sentence. Eddie gets it.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Are you driving? Are you okay to drive?" Because of course Eddie knows. Eddie knows how much Buck cares about his whole team, his family, but especially Bobby. He remembers Buck's fear on the cruise ship. Or when Bobby was exposed to that radiation. Or any time Bobby wasn't okay. Because Buck wasn't either.

"fine. Almost there" the plus side of it being 2am? LA traffic isn't terrible.

----

Athena's stable. Smoke inhalation but nothing some oxygen can't fix. Bobby's heart stopped. Bobby was dead. Buck wonders if how he feels now was how Bobby and Eddie and Hen and Chim and Maddie felt after the lighting. When all they could do was sit. And wait. And pray. And hope for the best.

So that's what Buck does. He sits there. Staring at that lest text he sent. Waiting. And Hoping. And maybe he even prays a little.

(Weeks later, after Bobby is awake, and has a new phone to replace the one that burned with the house, the very first text he sends is a familiar "morning kid, I'm all good 🙂." Buck screenshots it to save forever.)

Also on A03

[mari-lair]

Was re-reading the Kannagi arc and realized... wait, didn't Akane sort of 'kill' Aoi? Because Teru did say that Aoi 'died' the moment she fell into the far shore😅

I assume that Akane dragged her down the boundary pit cuz he wanted to get away from No.6, unaware that it would kill her, but tbh i dont think it will change the fact that it was him who dragged her down there and k-worded Aoi. Yeah, Aoi would have gotten there no matter what since it was Hakubo's plan, but ultimately it was definitely him who pulled the trigger. Not saying Akane is bad or smth, just curious what your thoughts on this is.

He did kill her, and I love that a lot!

Cause Akane had good intentions, it is as you said, he dragged Aoi with him to get her away from No.6, but that doesn't change the fact that he was the one to drag her, going against her wishes. Akane isn't a hopeless optimist: while he saw the pit as the only possible escape out of an awful situation, he did seriously consider the pit would lead to their death.

"I would rather die with you, than leave you to die alone." was the feeling I got from the devastated look on his face right before he jumped.

Cause he never gets angry at Teru for "not being able to rescue Aoi," he gets angry that Teru didn't tell him she was already dead, taking away Akane's power to choose to stay with Aoi in the Far Shore.

At his core, Akane is far more angry with himself than with Teru, the confirmation he took Aoi to the point of no return, and that he left Aoi alone there, is unforgivable.

It's the outcome Akane had tried to avoid when he took a gamble and jumped down that pit, yet it happened anyways, done by his own hands instead of No.6.

Death won't part them, they either find a way out together or die together. That was his plan.

Aoi knows it, but during the tunnel, she is the one with the power to choose if she dies with Akane or not, and she chooses to let him live. She stayed quiet.

Teru's silence is extremely important, but the silence of one party when both have this knowledge is useless: if Aoi had mentioned at any point that she is dead already and cannot return, she knew Akane would have kept his promise to never let her go, that he would stay with her in the Far Shore forever instead of following Teru to the Near Shore. So she also doesn't say anything, going against Akane's wish to die together.

[moutainrusing]

aphrodite’s anger

“You have angered Aphrodite,” the Goddess Athena stated, lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the subject of her patronage, Remus, who was scribbling away ardently on a piece of parchment at the rickety wooden desk by the slit-sized window.

He looked up with a furrowed brow, then squinted slightly as the sunlight shining through the slit hit his eyes. “How?”

Athena shot him a withering look. “I don’t know how to make this more overt. You are Remus Lupin. You are brilliantly sharp-witted and daring. You should therefore be living life to its fullest, taking courageous risks, making wild discoveries… and yet, you insist on cooping yourself up inside this shambolic shack, doing absolutely nothing. I only remain your patron in the hope that you somehow unlock your potential.”

Remus blinked. “Um. Sorry. Thank you, Goddess. But… how does this affect the Goddess Aphrodite?”

If possible, Athena looked even more annoyed. “Aphrodite does not understand why I stick with you. She has seen you rejecting adventure, never utilising your power, and, worst of all, seen you turn down love. She’s furious.”

“Oh.” Remus paused. “When did I ever turn down love?”

Athena looked like she was combusting out of frustration. She gritted her teeth. “I have helped you all I can. It is not my fault you are oblivious.” With that, she disappeared, leaving Remus to his old, derelict hut.

He wasn’t alone for long though, because only a few seconds later, the fisherman from the other side of the island swung the door open, calling, “Come out for a stroll, my love!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Sirius, I am not your love.”

Sirius mock-pouted. “Fine. But it’s not healthy to just stay in here all day! Come down to the coast, Remus.”

“I’ll pass.”

Sirius frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing? Don’t I always turn you down?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yes. But usually you only look slightly pathetic, still convinced that you’re happy to live vicariously through your imaginary stories,” he explained, gesturing to the scrolls strewn across Remus’s shack. Remus frowned, but before he could defend himself, Sirius cut him off, “Now, you look like you’ve completely given up, even on your stories.”

Remus realised the truth to this observation, and he squinted at Sirius, not because of the sunlight, but because Sirius was confusing and strange and… different. A good different. A different which made Remus want to explore it, except Remus wasn’t an explorer, no matter how much Athena insisted he was. Really, he didn’t know why the Goddess still stuck with him. Or why Sirius did, still barging into his hut every evening without fail.

Finally, he admitted, “No point in writing anymore.” He shrugged in the most careless manner he could muster. “The Goddess Aphrodite is angry with me.”

He glanced up at Sirius, whose face had immediately fallen. In fact, Sirius had completely deflated, no longer looking animated and cheerful, just lost, like he’d been punched in the gut.

Quickly, Remus added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s all fine. I’m fine.”

Then Sirius broke out of his frozen state, and threw himself at Remus, gripping him by the shoulders, shaking him, hugging him, vociferating, “No, this is not fine! She could kill you! Turn you into a monster! Drive you to insanity! Remus!” Remus listlessly nodded, and Sirius sighed, slumping into Remus. “I’d still love you, though. Even if you were dead, a monster, or insane. You’re already insane.”

Remus laughed at this, gently pushing Sirius off. It was a thoughtful joke. No one could really love someone like him. He was already dead: he was barely living his life. He was already a monster: every full moon since childhood, he turned into a wolf, not that Sirius knew that. And he was already insane, yes. His mind was a mess, churning with incongruous thoughts, forever spiralling and multiplying.

He looked thoughtfully at Sirius, out of his window, at his scrolls. He decided, fuck it, I’m going to die anyway, “Could I borrow a boat from you?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, before his face split into a beautiful beam. “Come with me, my love.”

Again, Remus rolled his eyes, but this time, he actually followed the skipping Sirius out of the hut, as he frolicked like a dog through the woods, along his well-trodden path between the coast and Remus’s shack.

Remus meandered after him much more slowly, taking in the smell of the scenery. Pine, smoke, fresh grass, soil… he hadn’t been outside in so, so long, and it really showed. He had simply locked himself up in his small wooden lodge, and stayed there, even through the full moon. Ashamedly, the only food he ever ate was the fish Sirius sometimes brought up to share, when he sacrificed his time to sit cross-legged with Remus on the stained floorboards and talk about meaningless musings. Maybe even more ashamedly, those times were Remus’s most treasured.

He made it down to the coast, where Sirius was waiting, with a huge, handsome masterpiece of a boat behind him. Its prow was a tall, regal wolf, which simultaneously terrified Remus because that couldn’t be a coincidence or maybe it could, but also made him gape in awe, because it was undeniably majestic. Who ever saw a wolf in that way? Sirius just grinned at him. “She’s been waiting for you so long, dude.”

Remus blinked. Sirius looked down at his feet and bashfully hesitated, “I— I built her while I was thinking of you, just a few months ago. I didn’t think you’d ever sail her— but, now, maybe, you… could? If you wanted. There are other boats—”

Remus pressed a finger to Sirius’s lips. To silence him, but also because he just wanted to get closer. “Sirius. I love it. Thank you. I wish I could give you something this amazing too.”

If possible, Sirius grinned at him even more than before. He burst out, “Let me come with you.”

Remus frowned. “What?”

“I want to go with you. On your journey. It can be your gift to me.”

“No, coming with me won’t be a gift. I— I’m going because… either way, I’m going to die. I might as well live a little first. But if you come with me, you’ll surely die too.”

Sirius shrugged. “What if I want to live a little with you?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t want you to die. But everyone’s going to die at some point. So let me live with you for as long as you have left.”

“I— I want to live with you too,” Remus confessed softly, to both himself and Sirius. “But it doesn’t matter. I won’t let you come.”

Sirius’s eyes flashed. “I won’t let you go without me.”

“And how will you manage that?”

“I built the boat. I know her better than you do. Don’t think I won’t be able to sneak on.”

“I’ll kick you off.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” and Sirius sighed, shaking his head slightly, looking up at Remus with a soft gaze, his previous temper melting. “Be safe, Remus.”

With that, he walked away, and Remus felt his chest ache, longing to reach out and pull Sirius back. But it was okay. He could now set off on his travels in solitude, like the lone wolf that he literally was. He clambered onto the boat, and realised he had no clue how to actually sail.

However, Athena was his patron for a reason, and he quickly got the hang of things. He figured out that he could untie the fabric neatly twisted around the central pole through the middle of the boat, and that it unravelled into perfectly square sheets which billowed in the direction of the wind. The boat was then propelled by the invisible force, and when the force changed direction, he could also rotate the mast so that the sails changed in the same direction.

When there was no wind, he realised how useful the oars were, and expeditiously learnt that this way meant he would go forward, this way meant he would turn left, this way meant right. He ended up in the middle of the still, open ocean, feeling incredibly accomplished. Aphrodite, he thought, I wouldn’t mind if you killed me now.

Remus stood in the middle of the deck for quite some time, arms outstretched on either side of his body as the wind blew through him, ruffling his hair and filling his nose with a pinch of salty air. He closed his eyes, relaxed, letting himself feel, without the constant pressure of thoughts.

It didn’t last long though. Because at the noise of a door banging open, his eyes immediately flew open too. Right in front of him, from a small hatch in the floorboards, three fishermen stepped out, and Remus stepped back.

“Sirius,” he stated dumbly.

Sirius grinned. “Nice to see you too, Remus. This here’s James.” He pointed to the fisherman beside him, who shared his dark hair and height, but was wildly different from him in all other aspects. While Sirius’s eyes were a metallic grey, sparkling near-white in the light, James’s were a dark brown, so dark that Remus couldn’t see what was within them. James’s hair was a bird’s nest, and Sirius’s hair was a waterfall. Sirius’s skin was pale, James’s skin was brown.

But then James smiled, “Hi,” and Remus saw it match Sirius’s mischief almost identically. This was going to be trouble. Ignoring the trouble, he turned to the other boy, raising an eyebrow.

The short, plump fisherman just hesitantly smiled at him, and Remus deemed that he was probably more sensible than the other two, but equally clueless.

“That’s Peter,” Sirius pointed. He added, “Are you going to say anything?”

Remus simultaneously wanted to remain in unresponsive silence forever, and yell his head off at Sirius. Compromising, he turned around, and said, “Get off.”

“No,” Sirius sang. “You’re stuck with us.” He paused, adding more solemnly, “We’re just here to help.”

Remus’s shoulders slumped, and he turned around in a way that he was still pointedly not looking at Sirius, but at the other two. “And you both are here because…?”

James smirked, eyeing Sirius, before saying, “We’ve heard so much about you, it’s like we know you personally. Basically, we’re already friends.”

Remus considered this, quickly realising, “You’re the two best friends Sirius is always on about!”

James muttered, “Not in the same way he’s always on about you,” while Peter smiled, asking, “So… we’re already your friends too?”

Choosing to ignore James’s nonsensical comment, he addressed Peter, shaking his head and deciding, “Yes.” Yes, they were indeed his friends.

Sirius clapped his hands together. “That was heart-warming,” he declared, juxtaposing his statement by glaring at James, for presumably more nonsensical reasons. “Anyway, we are on a mission. Onwards! I think the next island is in a couple twenty miles.”

Remus threw his head back in frustration, before turning to face Sirius, who was already glaring at him with daggers that dared, “Fight me and you’ll lose.”

“Fine,” Remus spat. “Stay and die.”

“Thank you,” Sirius spat back.

Giving up, Remus walked to the trapdoor and disappeared below deck.

“He means well,” Remus heard a voice say, maybe twenty minutes later.

He turned from one of the mattresses to see James, nearing him with an amiable smile.

Remus snorted. “To who? Himself? No, he’s going to get himself killed. To you and Peter? No, he’s put you both in danger too.”

James shrugged. “He’d never let any of us die. And he means well to you.” James then looked at Remus very intensely, and Remus’s gaze skittered across the cabin, unable to handle it. Finally, James spoke, “He loves you.”

Remus just turned around on his mattress and tried to sleep. He couldn’t. But soon, sleep didn’t matter, as the boat began to rock violently, and Remus’s mattress full-on slid to the other side of the cabin. He shot up, and hurried to the top deck, where… there was nothing. In fact, the boat was still, empty, completely silent. But before he could question everyone’s disappearance, he saw it.

The most beautiful… creature he had ever seen. He was immediately enamoured with its long, scaly body, rising up over his head as it opened its lovely jaws, which were really so mesmerising. Its roar was mellifluous. Its eyes were so yellow and shiny. The creature made him feel so calm, peaceful, and he stepped closer and closer—

“NO!” The ferocious cry cut through Remus’s thoughts. His head jerked to the side abruptly, trying to locate its source as he deliriously concluded that actually the thing that made that cry had the most mellifluous voice in the world… so magical…

The beast roared again. No, that was the prettiest—

“LEAVE HIM!” No, that was the prettiest—

Roar! No, that was the prettiest—

“YOU VILE, REPUGNANT MONSTER!” A series of grunts, accompanied by the slashing of a sword. Remus shook his head, eyes landing on Sirius as he lunged at a giant serpent, which hissing at him, poised to kill him…

Remus didn’t know what to do. Well, there was one thing. He’d never done it before. It required a very strong emotion. And Remus didn’t do strong emotions. Only, he did, he just bottled them up and pretended they didn’t exist. But, looking at Sirius, he felt it churning within him, bursting from the seams of his skin as it exploded, erupted, surged out from the depths of his heart. Love.

Yes, okay, kill him for it — he was irrevocably in love with Sirius. Happy? The wolf within him was happy, at least. He let it grip onto the powerful emotion, let it overcome him, let himself transform, forcefully, willingly, in the light of a crescent moon. Before he was fully transformed, still with a grasp on his consciousness, he leapt onto the serpent, to ensure that it was the thing he would attack.

And attack it he did. They tore at each other, roaring, howling, ripping off chunks of flesh — no worse than what Remus did to himself, really, locked up in a tiny shack. Soon the wolf realised the serpent’s weakness: every time a claw swiped near one of its eyes, it would flinch, blink rapidly, reel backward. And so, the wolf quickly pierced its two bulbous eyes with a flash of claws, and suddenly, the serpent collapsed, and both of them tumbled into the sea.

Remus transformed back as he broke the surface, broken, defeated, with viscous yellow pus coating his hands, and blood dribbling from the cuts all over his chest, swirling in the dark blue water. He didn’t have the energy to swim back up. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to, anyway. Sirius had seen him as a wolf. As soon as he emerged, he’d be slaughtered. And he wouldn’t let the man he loved get any blood on his sweet, innocent hands.

But apparently, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because arms were wrapping around him, pulling him up to the surface, and as soon as they reached air, he heard two desperate inhales. One was his own. The other was… Sirius.

Sirius stared at him, breathing heavily into his face, and Remus knew he was doing the exact same. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were impossibly close, and Sirius looked relieved, not disgusted.

“So,” Remus caught his breath. “I— I’m a werewolf.”

Sirius released a breathy laugh, gesturing to the prow piece. “I know.”

“What? And you still… did all this?”

Sirius nodded, eyes sparkling, a small, shy smile on his face.

Remus blinked, squeezing Sirius to make sure he was real, which caused Sirius’s smile to grow less shy, more wide. “But— but you called that monster,” and Remus pointed below, “vile, and—”

“Shh,” Sirius whispered, breathing into his mouth, and Remus immediately shut up. “You’re not a monster. I distinctly remember being concerned that Aphrodite would turn you into a monster. Why would I be worried about that if I thought you were one already?”

“Oh.” Remus paused. “Well, your concerns were erroneous. I think Aphrodite’s punishment was to enchant me with a monster.”

Sirius grimaced. “Don’t tell me you were in love with that thing.”

Remus shook his head. “I broke the enchantment.”

“Uh… how?”

Remus sucked in a breath. “Well, real love usually has the power to overcome fake infatuations.”

“Oh? So, who are you really in love with, then? Hmm,” Sirius teasingly pondered.

Remus tightened his hold on Sirius. “You know who.”

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” Remus stuck his chin up defiantly. “I’m in love with you. Happy?”

“Very,” Sirius responded, immediately crushing his lips into Remus’s.

Although Remus broke away when he felt a presence looming over them. Sirius looked dazed for a moment, before his eyes also landed on the Goddess hovering over them.

“Aphrodite,” Remus acknowledged wearily.

She simply grinned devilishly. “Finally.” And then, she grumbled, “And I suppose Athena was right about you. Daring, smart, worthy of her patronage. I thought you might let the beast kill you all. But no, Athena was right. Damn you, now I’ve lost a bet. Although I believe I’m winning the bet on Marlene and Dorcas…” With that, she disappeared.

Remus blinked, before bursting into laughter.

From above, on the deck of the boat, James and Peter looked down at them. “Should we haul them up yet?” Peter asked.

“First I have to check something,” James responded. He dramatically cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “HAVE YOU TWO SNOGGED YET?!”

Remus smirked. “Not yet.” And then he captured Sirius’s mouth in his own, and they snogged senselessly.

_________________

Back on the deck of the ship, Remus sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I should return to my writing.”

All three heads whipped around to face him incredulously.

“Excuse me?” Peter burst out, while the others seemed too speechless.

Remus frowned. “What?”

“You must keep adventuring!” James eventually cried.

“Remus.” Sirius stated gravely. “You don’t need to write stories anymore. You’re living the stories. With us.”

Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse

[panlight]

Do you think that Charlie also undergoes retconning/revision as the series goes on? In Twilight he seems somewhat distant but still buys Bella a truck, worries about her, etc. By Eclipse he can't work a microwave and is (at least through Bella's PoV) an unreasonable brute of a man. Do you think that Meyer needed to make Charlie more distasteful to the readers so that Bella essentially abandoning him (and Renee) wouldn't come off so cruel/harsh? Or did she just evolve the character as she went to mesh better with New Moon and Eclipse, even when those new character traits DON'T mesh well with FD/BD? Charlie was still in Bella's life in FD and presumingly Nessie was also still named Carlie as well.

Charlie is interesting because if you think about the idea that it was originally just Twilight and Forever/Breaking Dawn, Charlie seems to exist mostly so Bella can move to Forks and be largely unsupervised. I mean there's a story there about a girl reconnecting with the father she barely knows, but that's not the story SM is interested in and for the most part is not the story she is telling. I'd argue the movies made a bit more of an effort there, or at least Billy Burke made people care about Charlie. I don't remember people being all that invested in him when it was just the books, but movie!Charlie is largely beloved.

But yeah I think a lot about Bella's homelife is the way it is so that choosing to become a vampire doesn't seem so terrible. If she were close to her parents, if she had siblings, hell if she had any actual human friends she cared about, that decision would be a lot harder to make and there would be consequences, things she had to give up. But she doesn't really have anyone. She likes Angela well enough, but doesn't spare her a second thought after the wedding. Her grandparents are dead, no cousins or aunts or uncles. No friends back in Phoenix. Just Charlie, Renee, and Phil. And she gets to keep Charlie and doesn't seem to care about Phil at all.

I think some of the problem with Charlie is that SM was going for humor. Similar with Renee, I never really believed he didn't actually know how to cook. I assumed it was Bella exaggerating for effect. I didn't actually think Bella was paying the bills and doing the grocery shopping at 10, either. But then we get Charlie not even knowing how to boil pasta or not to but metal in the microwave. Like he hadn't lived on his own for nearly two decades, like he hadn't cared for his parents? It's just "haha look how clueless he is!"

I do think his disdain for Edward is largely justified, though, given what he actually knows. The "break-up" after the baseball game where Bella ran back to Phoenix and ended up in the hospital, and then her depression when he breaks up with her again, then her disappearing for three days because he needed help. Yeah, I'd think this guy wasn't good for my kid, too. But because it's a romance and Bella's the narrator, she paints him as unreasonable and Edward being a saint for putting up with it.

I don't think he was retconned as much as Renee; I think they both started off as well-meaning but comically helpless/clueless and that Renee took a darker turn whereas Charlie may have benefited in later works from how beloved movie!Charlie is.

[lovecanbesostrange]

Please know that since yesterday I am mentally trapped in these two panels. There is actually a lot I will miss Krakoa for, but I also felt a bit of resentment throughout the era and this family is a big reason why. NOW that we are in the last stretch of burning it all down and the new X-launch is in reach, we'll get this wedding special. And we finally have all four together in a panel. NOW?! I bought X-Men Unlimited #4 in either fall of '94 or spring '95, solely because of the cover. 30 years of waiting. Let me live in this moment for a bit.

Look at what they are doing with the art! Oh sure, Mystique and Nightcrawler are the blue ones. Pair up Destiny and Rogue next to that to make them look similar enough as well. Only for my brain to scream "but the personalities are the other way around!!!!!!!!". Irene and Kurt work on faith and believe in possibilities and reaching out to be better. Raven and Anna Marie typing this out makes me feel weird are the ones who will kill a bitch and say they will darken their soul so others don't have to. Plus there is the element that they both have lived more than one life and their sense of self is distorted .

They've come a long way, okay?!

Yes this is exactly what it looks like. For plot reasons Nightcrawler was too weak to teleport and dangling off a cliff next to Mystique. And of course Rogue could only save one and before she made a decision Mystique said "I make this for you" and let go. I still like to believe she flipped them the bird when she fell. Because she is Mystique. "HaHa! Take this, you think I'm the worst mother ever, but you will have to live with a moment of nobility from me!" (Also Destiny knew this would come, and she fucking knows there is something good inside of Mystique. It just comes out... different. And needs very specific circumstances.)

Apart from X-Men Evolution (and the X-Men Forever alternate history comic with its very special vibes), we have never gotten any bigger acknowledgement of this family. And Irene has been cut out. Either conveniently on account of being dead, or because she's an old lady and clearly just a gal pal, ahem. (It's also very funny to me to go back to their first appearances, where the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants has the biggest Three Stooges energy ever. I needed Mystique, Destiny, Rogue, Pyro, Blob and Avalanche to have a drinking contest on Krakoa. That is what Krakoa was supposed to be about!! You needed to give us 200% domestic nonsense, fun and games. So it would hurt everybody when it was inevitably taken away. EVERYBODY needed to find happiness in that place in unconventional ways.)

Sadly not my original thought (I don't have those), but recently I read some comment where somebody said that with Irene being his bio-mother, Kurt should have inherited a type of precog-sense, a sorta spidey-sense for teleportation. A natural ability that he won't teleport into an obstacle. And I would be so on board with that. (Also funny, because Ms Marvel had that type of sense and I could pull up panels where Nightcrawler tried to trigger that in Rogue.) Would it be weird to add that now? Sure. But also super cute and helpful.

My deepest gratitude goes out to the fanartists who have doodled and sketched and painted cute family moments for them out of time. Now canon can catch up. Imagine their dinner conversations. N: "Logan is my best friend." M: "Oh, that reminds me there is this blue furball running around with his and my powers. I don't even remember if we ever had sex or not, we're so close in age and have these memory gaps." N: "Mutter, nein!" D: "You should ask him out, you two would make a cute couple. Trust me." R: "You're setting up Nightcrawler with Wolverine and keep giving me grief over Gambit?" M: "He speaks too much French! Wolverine might be Canadian, but at least he's not a Franco-Canadian!" N: "So I couldn't date Northstar?"

Do not get me wrong though. Mystique and Destiny are horrible people and they will stab others in the back. They have worked for the government, they have plotted assassinations of government people. They have fought alongside and against the X-Men. I don't want them tamed or be reasonable. I want their mess. I want them as anti-villains. Because they don't do heinous things for nothing. They like to create less horrible murder events than what could be... some writers just liked to go overboard with the scheming and forgot the sympathic undertones, which I want to cling to. And we deserved a time of peace on Krakoa. Truly imagine a Mystique who was happy on Krakoa. And the absolut batshit villainous energy when it's burned down against her will... now THAT would have been something. Instead of baking resentment into the foundation.

[potassiumivy]

PLAYBOY. | jjk

❥ mdni. fic masterlist.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 002: PINKY PROMISE.

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

"HOW COULD SHE?? SHE DIDN'T TELL ME ANY- OUCH, THAT HURTS!" 

"shut. up." megumi spoke lowly, grabbing his teacher's collar to pull him close. it was way too early to be dealing with gojo's tantrum. "if you keep yelling, everyone will know, and we don't know if she's okay with it."

gojo inhaled, and his eyes went back to the cover of the playboy magazine. you were on your knees, all dolled up, looking at the camera through your long lashes. he could tell you applied kohl on your lower waterline after seeing you do your makeup everyday when you attended his class two years ago. his eyes went over your glossed lips curled in a little smile. despite the absurdity of the situation, he found himself smiling too- he really had a soft spot for you.

his gaze went lower, falling on the fur blanket covering your lap, before going up and seeing your tits spilling out of your pink babydoll, your signature pearl necklace falling on them.  he was practically grinning by then. he clearly remembers you "borrowing" his black card to get it along with a pair of matching jimmy choo's, not that he'll ever scold you for it. 

shaking his head softly to get out of his trance, he raised his head to meet megumi's intense glare. "what? her smile is contagious!" he defended himself. 

"that's not the point." 

gojo tilted his head in confusion at the statement, making his student's eye twitch at his stupidity. "how are you not ashamed of yourself?" megumi rhetorically asked, grabbing the magazine with one hand, his other hand covering his eyes to avoid seeing you in such a suggestive state. after all, you were his upperclassman, and he had respect for you, even if he'll forever deny it. "are you shameless?" 

"yes." gojo admitted with no hesitation. 

megumi was having none of his shit today. before he could open his mouth again, yuuji barged back into the room. "well, my magazines weren't outside and i was pretty sure i packed them- oh! you found them!" he halted his rambling seeing one of them in megumi's hand. "i was just looking for that one too... man, i can't wait to settle down and read it!" yuuji chuckled, walking towards an alarmed megumi, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

megumi felt like his heart was in his throat. this was all happening way too fast, and his body reacted accordingly- by crumbling it and shoving it in his mouth, making yuuji stop dead in his tracks before laughing. 

"you're so funny, fushiguro!" he slapped the boy's back, making him choke on the paper he was trying to swallow. "i thought you kinda had a stick up your ass, but you're actually a comedic genius!"

gojo snorted, amused by yuuji's so-called compliment. he could tell that both of his students will get along despite being very different. he couldn't wait to brag about them to his colleagues.

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

it was midnight already, and gojo was sitting on the edge of his bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone in the dark room. he didn't have anything better to do, and the last 24 hours took a toll on him. with meeting sukuna's vessel, to enrolling him into the school, helping him move in, finding out your little (big) secret, and arguing with the higher-ups was a lot to handle, even for the strongest. on top of that, he had to prepare tomorrow's day, since they have to pick up the other new first year.

his finger hovered over your number, mentally debating if he should call you or not. you were always on his mind, even more since your suspension. but now, after seeing you on- no. he shouldn't think about something so wrong. 

you cut off almost every communication with the jujutsu community, so he didn't have any direct news from you. finally pressing on the green button on his screen, he held his breath. he was conflicted on whether he should back down and hung up or not- he really didn't know how to talk to you.

"hello?" your voice shattered the silence in his room. he could hear the loud music in the background. 

"hey." he sounded breathless, and he didn't know why. maybe it was because this would be his first interaction with you after a whole month. hearing you giggle softly, he felt silly for being so nervous.

"aren't you going to properly greet your favourite student? hm?" he cracked a smile at that. "well, you're not my student anymore so i don't really know..." he teased. "what are you up to anyways? you don't seem to be very sad about being suspended from school."

silence. he could hear your breath and the distant voices surrounding you, but you weren't saying anything. your lack of response worried him slightly. "what's wrong? why did-"

"gojo, i don't think we should talk." he didn't respond, way too surprised by the sudden shift in your tone. he felt his throat getting dry. "why not?" he had so many questions, but he refrained from asking them over the phone. he had called on impulse, that picture of you in his mind, and he wasn't ready to say goodbye so fast. 

"well... i'm supposed to be mad at everybody from the community, you know? it'll go against my point if i talked nice to you." this made gojo think for a bit.

"meet me at harajuku tomorrow. i have people i want you to meet." you were baffled. didn't he hear you?

"i'm not coming back without kirara and hakari." he knew that.

"i'll do something about it. i promise." you opened your mouth to refuse, but the sincerity of his words made you hesitate.

chewing on your bottom lip, you silently weighed the pros and the cons. you took promises seriously. "you pinky promise?"

despite being so exhausted earlier, gojo felt like all of his fatigue disappeared. you did that to him, and the realization made his heart flutter.

"i pinky promise."

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

*✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:    *✧･ﾟ:

after hanging up, gojo made his way to the garden to take a little walk. he felt too giddy to fall back asleep right away so he came down to calm himself. from afar, he saw the figure of the third year's teacher standing close to the spot you grew your plants, and he made his way to them.

they were watering them for you, humming under their breath. "she always watered those plants at night, saying that it's better for them that way.", they started, glancing back to gojo momentarily before giving back all their attention to the task at hand.

"she also mentioned how it calms her."

"don't talk about her like she's dead." gojo chuckled. 

"it's not the same here without my students, especially not without her. it's almost lifeless."

gojo was beyond confused by the behaviour of his colleague. "is that your way of dealing with the fact she's gone? watering her plants?"

"they were important to her, so i'm taking care of them until she comes back."

the figure sighs before wiping their dirty hands on their blazer. their fingers clutched the fabric tightly. 

"you know you can tell me anything, don't you?" gojo came closer to the figure, putting a hand on their back.

"we're best friends, aren't we suguru?" at the sound of his name, he turned around, putting his hands in his pockets all while avoiding eye contact.

"i think i like her." gojo's eyes widened and his heart dropped at the blunt confession. 

geto smiled brightly, like he never did before, finally making eye contact with his friend. his eyes were a little glossed, blush apparent on his cheeks. nothing like him a few years ago. he was genuinely happy again. "yeah, i like her."

he took gojo's wrist and held it close. "you're the only strongest now. so promise me you'll bring her back."

gojo thought about you- his pretty (ex-)student on a playboy magazine cover.

"okay. okay, i promise."

✞ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘✞

next!!

©potassiumivy, 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate / modify / republish my works.

[khruschevshoe]

You know, I saw all the Orpheus and Eurydice web weaving posts for Clara and 12. I saw all of the Hadestown references on all of your posts. And yet none of that actually prepared me for watching Hell Bent and going oh. Oh shit.

Because I knew about the confession dial and what he does in Heaven Sent to get her back. I know the general plot of Hell Bent. I did not realize he literally shows up with a guitar at the beginning and end of it all. That he went to the underworld in Heaven Sent and comes out of the underworld in Hell Bent and manages not to look back but only because he's planning on never looking back. He's planning on wiping her mind and so instead she looks back and dooms him, wiping his mind, and he ends the entirety of their run playing his guitar into the desert to a ghost. He will never get her back because she looked back. She will forever haunt him because he succeeded and failed at the same time. Because she wrenched her agency out of the situation. And he doesn't remember her, she can't remember her, but he is haunted by her. He is LITERALLY PLAYING HER SONG at the end of it.

I finally understand why people are so obsessed with the twelveclara dynamic, and I would put at least fifty bucks on the idea that Steven Moffat looked at how the Ten/Donna subplot ended in Journey's End (Doctor and companion become a hybrid and the Doctor realizes that if he doesn't wipe her memories she'll die because she has too much Time Lord in her) and went how do I Orpheus/Eurydice this shit but flip the table as to who is Orpheus and who is Eurydice at the last second? Who gets to walk into hell and who gets to look back and who gets to be haunted? BOTH OF THEM. ALWAYS BOTH OF THEM. THEY WILL HAUNT EACH OTHER UNTIL THE END OF TIME ITSELF.

Now excuse me while I go scream into my pillow-

(Also, this all your fault, @twelvesbian, I hope you're happy.)

[mishapen-dear]

okay but watching pomme and richas' family growing RACE gets so intense. okay. look.

pomme: baghera, antoine, aypierre, kameto, etoiles, bad, and max (from aypierre) for parents; dapper as sibling; maxpierre twin babies for siblings. she has ten family members in total.

richas: forever, pac, mike, cellbit, felps, roier, and quackity for parents; foolish and vegetta as grandmas; and leo as an aunt. if we count bobby as richas' deceased step-brother, then richarlyson has eleven family members in total.

they both have seven parents in total.

pomme is catching up. richas its time to start whoring your dads out again. dont let her win

[hephaestuscrew]

I'm still thinking about that scene in Victoriocity S3E7 where Fleet runs back towards the Beast so as to lure it into the path of the train...

Clara's exclamation of 'Teamwork, Fleet!' after Fleet says he's got a plan reflects her conviction that any plan that Fleet has will be a shared plan, something they do together.

This conviction is a kind of trust, and that trust is part of the reason Clara takes a moment to realise Fleet has headed back towards the Beast. She trusts that he's following behind her. She keeps talking to him, her words full of optimism.

When she realises Fleet isn't there, she immediately realises what that must mean he's done, and her voice sounds more small and scared than I think we've ever heard it before.

Fleet's attempt at self-sacrifice is a kind of betrayal of Clara's trust, but when he echoes her celebration of their teamwork in a more somber tone, I think it suggests that he understands the weight of that betrayal.

If Fleet's plan is that Clara won't realise he's gone until it's already too late, then he thinks "Teamwork, Clara" will be the last words he'll ever speak to her. In what he imagines will be their final conversation, Fleet affirms Clara's understanding of them as a team who work well together, even as he is making a choice that rejects the possibility of their teamwork in this scenario. It's a recognition of what their dynamic has meant. It's a goodbye and an apology, even if Clara doesn't understand it as such at first.

I don't think Fleet sounds scared as he initially faces down the train. When he shouts "Yeah, this way, you stupid machine! Come on then!", he sounds defiant and grimly determined.

In fact, I don't think he sounds afraid until Clara appears, until she might be at risk of being in the path of the Beast or the train as well. It's when he shouts "Clara, stay back for God's sake!" and "Please, get back!" that there's real fear and desperation in his voice. He can confront the idea of giving his own life, but not the idea that doing so might put Clara in danger.

Another thing about these lines is that the move from 'stay back' to 'get back' suggests that Clara didn't obey his first instruction but got closer to him (and therefore to the path of the Beast and the train) between those two lines.

Then Fleet gives what might be another attempt at his last words: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry."  A repeated apology before an attempted self-sacrifice is an implicit acknowledgement of how much losing him would hurt Clara. He regrets causing her pain.

Even so, he's accepted that he is about to die and that it'd be worth it to destroy the Beast. But Clara very much hasn't accepted either those things. She's still trying to yell over the noise of the train; she's pulling off her ring to throw at him.

I think it's a good illustration of how Clara's optimism is a kind of strength. She always believes that they can "make a new plan" and that it'll be one in which no one has to die. I think Archibald Fleet needs someone like that, someone who'll tell him to drop to the ground when his death advances from both sides, someone who - even in a dark tunnel with an murderous metal monster and a speeding train - won't stop shouting that there's hope.

[seveneyesoup]

dunno a week ago or thereabouts i was set up outside the library with a comrade and we have a palestine flag up, and this woman comes by and she thanks us for having it. and she starts talking, and asking us about things and she says she doesn’t support violence, doesn’t support israel doesn’t support hamas, that she’s palestinian and she’s been there and how she heard stories about it and she went there as a child, eight years old, and she was held in the airport for ten hours. she didn’t know what was happening, and the man who’d put them there clearly hated her, from the bottom of his soul, a child who he’d never met before. she’d seen the occupation, been threatened and followed by strangers, and they hated her. the way she said hated sounded different than any other word.

she said she was an artist, that she had a lot of feelings and she put them in her art and she showed us some of it. it was abstract, mostly, black and blue and red and scraps of paper with words printed on them. and she tells my comrade she hasn’t gone to actions because she has a special needs son, and she tells us she’s in therapy, but her therapist is a white lady and she doesn’t really understand, she says she does, but she’s never been through it. never been looked at with that kind of hatred. and she says she thinks about a lot of things. she thinks this might be hell, “this world we’re in right now.” she tells us about a friend of hers, palestinian, whose entire family is dead. all of them.

she asks if we’ve heard of the undergraduate hospital in israel. she says she’s glad they can help with the suffering, that it’s good that they have that. she says she wishes they had something like that in palestine. of all the things she’s said so far, this is the saddest her voice has sounded. she tells us she doesn’t know what the answer is. she says there’s people in israel who can’t just leave but that palestine deserves better. she says she doesn’t have any friends anymore, not ones she talks to. she repeats herself a lot. she thanks us for fighting, for believing the world can be better. she says she doesn’t believe that, but that it’s important someone does. my comrade assures her a better world can be built, if not for us than at least for the children. she says the children are dead.

we ask if there’s anything we can do for her. she says to “tell my shitty story, so people know. know what it’s like.” when we have to part ways, she thanks us again for letting her talk. tells us again to tell her story.

[marvelmusing]

“You may have needed me, but I never needed you.”

Okay Alina sure you didn’t

You’d just be murdered by Drüskelle

Or by Zlatan’s assassin instead of poor Marie

[vaguely-concerned]

I am so mad about how desperately into pan I am. he was specifically made to fuck me up. they dangled him in front of me like 'hey would you like to see a sad clown trickster with emotional intimacy issues and a heart of, if not gold, then some mysterious alloy with qualities not at all unlike those of gold at the end of the day?' and I went 'boy would I!' and now I'm lost. I'm on my knees he's like if reyes vidal was actually redeemable instead of just a 'release my man he did do all of that but I don't care' situation

[pickletrip]

No one in Dead Friend Forever is innocent. Absolutely no one. Everyone played a part in Non's disappearance/death. I was really holding out on Jin and Phee, but Jin, my boy, that's not something you do to someone you love. Phee, I get that you are extremely hurt and really really upset, but don't say "Go die".

[factorialsotherfandoms]

*siiiiiigh*

Look I promise today's prompt was going to be cute, I swear to high hell it was. And no, this isn't going to be anything like canon, and yes, I don't care fix is for silly ideas and aus and dreaming.

So anyway today, instead of nosebleed, I'm writing alt prompt: begging. Spoilers for 22/12/23 streams~

TW: temporary major character death, possession, grief, suicidal thinking as a result of said grief, self harm

(Read all the way to the end for a happy ending still)

"Please!" Philza screams. "Please, give him back!"

The others at Spawn look nervously between them. Their weapons are still raised, their tempers sharp, unable to quite process that whatever is controlling Forever will not use his totems.

Philza pays them no Mind, gives no quarter to their words. Ugly sobs tear through his voice, tears dropping onto the moss and cobble that makes up Spawn. He cradles Forever's head in his lap, shields him with his body even as he runs fingers through white hair and begs a miracle from the sky.

Forever - the parasite within Forever - laughs, his whole body shaking as black blood spills from his lips and from the gaping wound in his chest.

"How quaint," the monster laughs. "Even now you still can't accept what's been done."

"Fuck off!" Philza turns down to look at the monster corrupting his dear friend's skin, snarling even as tears continue to pour. "Fuck the fuck off and give me my fucking friend back!"

"Ah but little bird," Forever's chest strains in a cough and corrupted blood splatters over Philza's cheeks. "Can't you see he's already dead?"

Philza leans further down, pulling his hands from white hair to press against the wound. There's only more gasping, cackling laughter as he bows his head and let's a few sobs pass. "No, no..."

"Let him go, Phil," a gentle hand hovers near his shoulder. "He might respawn yet - just let him go."

If Forever wasn't allowed to use a totem, Philza doubts he'll be allowed to respawn; he slaps the hand away and turns his eyes back to the heavens.

"Rose!" He screams. "Rose! Help me! Please!"

She's only promised to aid him and his children, though - Philza knows this, knows that so far across the worlds she must be weak.

"Please," he sobs again, quieter now. "Please, I can't loose him... I can't..."

The tears are no longer sobs, now just silent torrents dripping from his face. The hand comes back, resting on his shoulder as he cradles Forever's possessed, dying form, and rocks himself.

Someone strokes Philza's wings, and he almost - almost relaxes. But then there's hands on Forever- hands trying to pull him away - and he screams again; he throws himself forwards, clawing at whatever would try steal his friend.

The monster in Forever's skin laughs, but laughs as though it can no longer breathe.

"She'll help!" He begs the people around him to understand. "She- She promised... She'll help..."

Because no matter what, if he loses Forever, Philza doesn't think there'll be anything left of himself for Rose to save.

---leave off here for ambigious ending. Continue for things getting worse, and then better---

The laughter beneath Philza's chest ceases, Forever's corrupted body falling still. The form that had been taunting him goes slack, tension against pain falling limp.

Philza is intimately familiar with what that means.

Philza knows death in all its forms.

Philza turns to the heavens, and screams.

It is not the screams of before, not a begging, not a plea, not a blind hope within the world. It is a scream born of anguish, of a splintering mind, of something once great and terrible carved open and laid bare. The abyss yawns before him, the void open and wide. Once he'd skim its surface, dancing and laughing and free - now he seeks only it's embrace, the oblivion which it promises as a final, lonely embrace.

The spectators turn away, or watch, Philza doesn't know - he just screams and screams and screams, helpless to what is happening, helpless against the shattering of an already fractured mind. He thinks he might see Rose's frowning in the grass around his knees - too late, too late, too late, and he would curse them if he had the throat left to form words at all.

But he doesn't, and so he screams.

The darkness fades from Forever's body only now, only too late. It trickles into the earth, corrupting instead the concrete beneath Forever.

The moss beneath the pair of them remains pristine.

Someone tries to pull Philza away - he hears Etoiles say something about an explosion - but he refuses. He refuses, he refuses, you will carve him from Forever or you will not seperate them at all. Bury him in the grave beside his confident, burn him on the pyre with his friend, leave their bodies entangled and deep and dark their remains.

Tubbo and Fit will look after his children - they don't need a broken husk for a father, after all.

He bends all the way down, now, pressing his face to Forever's chest. The blood there is red, red, red - still trickling from his back, but only as gravity pulls it away. Philza pays it no heed as he presses himself as close as he can.

Distantly he is aware of people being shepherded away, of whispers around him - it's a curse, it's a curse that even now his mind notices the movements, the threats, keeps plotting to keep him alive.

He doesn't want to live, not in a world without the sun.

He doesn't want to live, but his chest keeps on heaving anyway.

He doesn't want to live, but suspects he might be forced to anyway; hands peel him from Forever and force him against a solid chest, and this time he is powerless to stop them.

They let him keep Forever in his lap, at least, now cropped blonde hair bloody and draped across his thighs. His own black hair is stroked, and what can he do but continue his sobbing against Fit's chest as the world caves in?

The world remains suspended in time, a frozen mess only beating by Philza's sobs and tears. It drags and it shifts, and he is too far gone to recognise the vines which reach up, entwining around his limbs.

It's only when he hears the waystone that he looks up.

Blue eyes meet brown, and Philza throws himself at Forever.

Even after a respawn fuck only knows where Forever is weak, so weak. They both tumble to the floor, Philza's quick twist putting himself below the only thing saving Forever's head from the grown.

"You bastard!" His throat is too raw to scream, his sobbing back with full force and distorting everything he says. "You fucking dumbass! You- You- You fucking idiot why did you tell me you were okay?!"

"Hi Philza," Forever's words are rote and his smile is confused.

There's footsteps, heavy footsteps, and a potato canon pointed at the pair.

Philza twists again, shoving Forever behind himself, protecting him come what may.

"Sorry, Forever, but just need to check. Clothes off, and we need to see you bleed."

"Fit!" Forever struggles the full laughter or fake scandal, seemingly too weak to do more than lean against Philza's back. "I didn't know you were into that!"

Philza hates the option, he hates it so much, but Fit's right, Fit's absolutely right - they need to know.

"It's okay," Philza keeps his body between his friends, tears still quietly pouring as he cups Forever's cheek again. "I'll help you."

The "and all I needed to do was die" isn't nearly as obnoxious as either of them want it to be.

Gently Philza helps Forever strip. It's cold, and he shivers, and there's ugly burns on one shoulder and and ugly death-scar on his chest, but not a hint of the black infection from before.

The buttons on Forever's clothes are too complicated to easily redress him. Philza slips off his haori, and wraps it gently around him. Tucks the belt in an approximation of tied, and pulls Forever properly into his arms.

"Blood too," Fit says. "I'm sorry, but..."

"No, no, I understand," Forever whispers, even as Philza hisses.

He scrapes his hand through filthy gravel, tearing the skin in an absolute mess; Forever bleeds red, and Philza grabs his hand, already pouring a splash potion on it and picking out the gravel.

He can do this, he can do this, even if it's all he can do.

Behind them, Fit takes photos, a d relaxes.

"I'll let the others know," he promises. "Why don't you two get somewhere warm, eh?"

"I don't-" Forever begins.

"Let me show you somewhere special," Philza says. "I think you'll like it."

Even in the depths of hating himself for things he cannot help, Forever has never been able to say no to that.

The children are asleep in Rose's Garden. Philza won't wake them now, and especially not with Forever in tow. Now yet - reintroductions... they'll get there, they'll get there, just not today.

But the children are in Rose's Garden, and so the nest is free.

It's a little exposed, but the hay is warm and the blankets and pillows and clothes that make it up... And it's so far away from anywhere, so far from anyone who might panic and hurt Forever before there's been time to spread the news.

It's also home.

Philza will have to put Forever back on the bunker's allow lists, but in his heart he knows Forever will always be welcome in his home.