#carried that guilt so damn deeply

[chronal-anomaly]

Thinking about how Lena was blamed for Mondatta's death and almost indirectly lead to a total all out war between Omnics and humans in Kings Row on this fine Tuesday.

[ot3]

FMPOV a lot of the appeal to edgeworth as a character is watching him cling to being a halfway decent person by his fingernails which its why its such a shame when he gets too softened. this is a guy who is deeply misanthropic and formulated his worldview around people all carrying secret guilt that they need to be punished for and that's a current that will be pushing him in a direction he needs to swim against for the rest of his life. and he's spent so long rationalizing it that he can't recognize it as the bed of quicksand that all of his Facts and Logic™ are built on. which is fun. and then by contrast there's phoenix who knows damn well that he is letting his emotional landscape fully influence his concept of reality and completely leaning into it. and i think the thing about phoenix is that no matter how much of a bitch he is he doesn't have any taste for cruelty, i think he is sort of fundamentally incapable of understanding on an emotional level Why people would want to do horrible things to each other. and because he can't empathize with the perspective of doing something cruel without there being something that'll explain it, he is going to continue to be blindsided by genuine acts of cruelty for the rest of his entire life. which is also fun! and it's why they both think the other person is insane! and theyre both right because both of them are insane.

[soapyghostie]

Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you. 

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel. 

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made. 

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings… 

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts. 

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity. 

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse. 

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws. 

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires. 

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive. 

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation. 

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world. 

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxxii - big bird maybe

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

Having worked with Kijoong and experiencing the many emergencies Hongjooong involved you in, you had gotten Kijoong's night routine down to the T.

Sure, there were some setbacks like how Kijoong demanded that he wanted his daddy to tuck him in and you had to negotiate with him. No matter the headache the boy induced, you found yourself still falling for his absolute adorableness. Unfortunately, you see some of those attributes on his father (which you can never nor were you ever planning on telling him). So even when Kijoong (somehow) crawled on top of the kitchen counter as you got his PJs out, you still managed to kindly get him down and scold him yet again.

His damn pout was enough to melt your whole resolve. That and the way he cupped your face and patted your cheeks gently as he said he was not bad. Like his father, Kijoong tends to not really mean his apologies. While you can hear them both say sorry, they tend to say it as more of a courtesy as opposed to an actual admission of guilt. You had a working theory that they do so in hopes that when they do make an admission of guilt, people would appreciate them more.

"Okay, here we go buddy," you grunted slightly as you carried the giggling, wiggling boy down on his dad's bed. Though Kijoong has his own bed in his room, he still sleeps in his dad's bed at night. You adored the fact that they stuck so. Even when it was just the two of them, they try to make what they have an actual family. Sometimes you feel bad for the way people mock and poke at Hongjoong for being so dedicated to his job. For one thing, it wasn't his fault that he was good at his job and that he was a genius at what he does. With the talent that he has, of course people would want him to help them. Though he was on track to becoming an attending, he still had to jump through hoops to prove himself despite people's praises. Despite that, he still spend what spare time he had to ask about Kijoong. Heck, he'd video call him through you whenever he could. Just the other day, when Hongjoong was stuck fixing a botched spinal tap, he managed to have the nurse hold his phone as he sing Kijoong to sleep because he had promised Kijoong that he would. Maybe after a while, you found yourself liking this nanny job.

"Dad?" Kijoong asked after his giggles died down, trying to push the blanket off of him to tease you. His big eyes destroyed all possibilities of you being annoyed at him even when you had to tuck him in for the eight time. "Your daddy has an association event tonight," you said, sitting down next to him on the bed while tilting your head to the side and smiling down at him.

Kijoong liked it when you used big words on him. It made him feel like his dad who's a big professional who used words on a daily basis, it made him feel like he was taking a part in his dad's world.

With pursed lips, Kijoong looked between you and the door multiple times until you understood what he meant. "Oh ho ho, no, mister, you are not staying up tonight to see your daddy come back home," you scoffed, bracing yourself to anticipate if Kijoong decided he wanted to make a run for it. "Why not?" he huffed, frowning deeply which reminded of you that time Hongjoong saw you cooking while carrying Kijoong on your hips. "Because last time you stayed up to wait for your daddy I had to deal with you being cranky the next day and I do not enjoy working with pouty children," you teased him, poking him on the nose to accentuate your words which thankfully made Kijoong scrunch his nose and giggled instead.

Without needing to negotiate more (thankfully), you watched as Kijoong make himself comfortable before curling into your touch, letting drowsiness slowly take over him. You scooted closer and began stroking the boy's head, enjoying the rare time he was quiet and calm, looking like any other child on earth and not a child who has psychological and behavioural issues. At times like this, Kijoong looked like an angel.

"(y/n)," he called out softly, forcing you to snap from your little daydream, "Yeah buddy?" Kijoong peeked through his lashes up at you, "Are you gonna stay?" he asked, voice sounding like he was afraid. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "Of course, buddy. I'll be here until you fall asleep," you smiled, trying to comfort him only for him to shake his head. "No! Are you staying long?" he asked again, letting you know that he was asking whether or not you were staying with him for the long run.

That took you by surprise.

When you accepted the job offer from Hongjoong, you were always under the impression that your employment was momentary. He wasn't giving you much of an option and you still wanted to become a nurse. You had taken the job with the expectation that it was merely short-term but what you didn't expect was genuinely loving the boy who had found it in himself to trust you since the moment he met you.

Of course, you had yet to plan your exit what with not even having an exact timeline of your departure from Kijoong's life. You had always thought that you'd have more time.

But at that moment, being asked like that directly from him. something felt heavy in your chest.

Kijoong was growing more anxious about you not answering him. So he wrapped his fingers around your pinky and ring finger, "I'll be good, promise," he added.

Your heart broke slightly at him practically begging you to stay.

You couldn't help but swoop down and plant a soft peck on the top of his head and envelop him in a hug.

"I'll stay here until you don't need me anymore, okay? Until then, you just be yourself because I love you for who you are. Don't you even worry your little head," no matter how much you tried to hold it in, your emotion still spilt out and your voice cracked slightly.

Kijoong curled more into you and he even held your hand tighter. "Don't go like mommy," he said and you felt your breath hitched at the sudden mention of his mom.

It was always a mystery to you about what happened to his mom but you never wanted to pry especially since Hongjoong never really mentioned his mom to you. And based on what you heard, Kijoong wouldn't have been able to know much about his mom either. Even if he did, why would you ask such a question to a child?

A child who was clearly severely affected by the absence of his mother.

For now, even as a substitute, you allowed him to rest in your embrace. You allowed him to feel the embrace of a woman who cared for him for once.

Knowing what could happen in the future, it was the least you could do for him.

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[cosmicpiracy]

Despair in the hotel lounge

The concert had been over for a few moments and his head hadn’t stopped pounding. Alex stood near his wife in the hotel’s private lounge as Matt’s girlfriend loudly praised them for their performance. God, he loved to see his mate happy, but was she annoying sometimes!

Specially now, when his head was pounding and he could feel all of the contents in his stomach swirl like a devilish soup. He felt lightheaded.

“Are you alright?” He heard his wife whisper in a worried voice. “Al?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off. “I’m good.”

Truth is: he wasn’t good, at all. His head had started bothering him a few minutes before the concert, but he would be damned if he was gonna cancel on such a short notice. Being married to a doctor had its perks: you learn a thing or two. And one things he learned from his wife’s notes and case reports was how to use light painkillers and antiemetics to completely abolish pain and nausea. He also got those two kinds of medication from her purse, although he refused to tell her about his state and worry her when she had just flown over. Which he would start to regret halfway through, when the music became too loud and he thought he would pass out from the pain.

“Are you sure?” She pressed further, and it felt like she really was testing his patience. His concert wasn’t what he thought it was gonna be and now, his wife was worried.

Great. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic.

“God, woman, not everyone around you needs your worry all the time!”

There was a certain silence in the room, a sort of shock. Alex had never raised his voice at his wife. It was new.

“That was so uncalled for, Alex.” So was her calling him Alex.

Ever since they met, she refused to use what she deemed to be his “fame name”. It was always Al, or Alexander, or Turner. Never Alex - everyone called him that.

So he felt a pang in his chest the moment that word left her mouth, and the hurt intensified as he watched her walk towards Katie, Jamie’s wife, who looked at her with a puzzled expression before glaring daggers at him.

As time went on, his situation got worse. He was more and more lightheaded and doubted he could walk to the hotel room if he tried. Matt was talking his ear off yet he couldn’t understand a word.

And Alex deeply wanted his wife to take care of him. Moved by the idea of telling her what was going on, apologising and going upstairs, he got up to walk towards his wife.

Only to come crashing down to the floor.

“Alexander!”

“Mate!”

He could barely make out sounds or figures, but he knew his wife’s hands enough to know she was the one examining him. And telling the boys to help her carry him upstairs.

“He’s dehydrated. But his pulse is fine, it’s probably just low blood pressure or his blood sugar. Has he eaten?” She fired off, before scrunching her forehead and whispering while looking at Nick. “Has he taken any drugs?”

While Matt would hide any information he possibly could from her, she knew Jamie and Nick would never. So when Jaimie shook his head, she knew that this could be ruled off. “Good. What about his sleep schedule?”

“I wouldn’t know, Doc, I’m not a grown man’s babysitter!” Matt snickered and Alex was sure Helders had absolutely no idea what his missus looked like when infuriated, which is why when he went quiet for a second, Alex assumed she gave him the glare while they lowered him on the mattress.

“Tour’s been hectic.” Nick told her. “Al’s been working nonstop for a few days. He wanted to be free when you got here, since you are only staying till Prague.” Alexander could feel his wife’s guilt from the bed when she saw the boys off, thanking Nick and Jamie for the information, telling Matt to take it out of his arse in a playful manner.

“Al, my love, what happened?” She stroke his cheek affectionately, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Can you talk? Jesus, you are sweating too much. What are you feeling?” Alex did not have the strength to say it, but pointed at his head. “Headache?” He nodded before feeling her sit him up to take off his shirt. Alex took the moment to inhale her scent from her skin, while his weakened arms held on to her when she tried to move away. “Alexander, I’m going to take off your pants.”

With a lazy smirk, he gathered all his strength to snort. “Take me out first.” His wife just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I will, Mr. Turner.” She said. “I’ll get you some medicine and give you a hot bath for your muscles, ok? Hang on in there.”

And she did. She gave him medicine and waited, to make sure it was going to stay inside and directed him to the bath. It’s was warm, but not enough to make his skin red with the heat. Just pleasantly warm.

Alex admired his beautiful wife, her hair in a bun, her focused eyes as she stripped to her underwear, got a bottle of liquid soap and sat behind him.

“I’m sorry for being such a dickhead to you.” He sighed as she dispersed the soap on his back and squeezing his sore neck muscles in the process. “You were looking out for me and I screwed it all up.”

“C’mon, Al, we’re good. Everything is alright, love.”

“It isn’t! It really isn’t!” He was getting worked up, she could tell. After a few years together, she knew him like the medical schemes she memorised through medschool. “George told me about the horrible shifts you had been havin and the awful cases in the morgue and how you were so tired you were taking the train instead of driving and all I wanted was for you not to worry when you were here!” He sighed, and she rinsed the soap from his skin, kissing his head lightly as he winced at his own volume. “To spend your time with me and rest.”

“Al, you are too sweet!” His wife nestled her face in his neck, kissing a bit of the skin. He intertwined their fingers. “You have absolutely no idea of how good it is just to be around you. How refreshing it was to get on that plane and know I was going to be in your arms soon.” She whispered in his ear, smiling like an idiot. “Thanks for taking care of me. Really. I could just see how tired you were, and wanted to take care of you too.” She got him out of the bathtub, drying his torso sweetly. “Isn’t that what marriage is? Two people caring for one another?” He smiled as she bopped his nose before sealing their lips together.

“But-“

“No buts, Alexander. You bought the flights, I shoo away your headaches, you sing me to sleep and I shower you in all my love and affection in the morning.” She laughed lowly as they layed in bed, his head resting in her chest. “You have no concerts tomorrow, right?” He just nodded. “Then, I proclaim bedrest for you for the whole day.” He hummed and she carded her fingers through his hair lovingly. “You are sentenced to a whole day in bed with me.”

“Clothes or no clothes?”

“Your choice.”

He hummed, as if analysing his possibilities.

“No clothes it is.” He declared. “Can you sing me to sleep today, love?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you…”

@mywritingonlyfans @ohladymoon

[liyazaki]

honesty as a burden, a blade & abatement

for all his airy irreverence, Aye is incredibly serious about the code of conduct by which he lives his life.

at the core of that code is honesty- it's foundational to who he is as a person. it may have been the character trait he admired most in his uncle, aside from his warmth and kindness. Aye jokes; he's the king of saucy, sarcastic commentary- but he never lies (not to the people who truly matter, anyway).

and it's easy to understand why: Aye strives to honor his uncle's memory in everything he does. he's trying to emulate the man who had such an enormous impact on his self perception- on the entire trajectory of his life.

even the way Aye loves is a bittersweet nod to the man who taught him how to love himself first. when Aye meets Akk's constant rejections with empathy, he's honoring him. when he refuses to take the easy route and go on the defensive, he's honoring him.

Aye always, always takes the higher, harder road- away from the well-worn path, choosing to lean instead into what's tender and true.

that commitment to being so authentic, self-preservation be damned has to feel like a metaphorical blade he's turning on himself at times. I like to think I'd be strong enough to be so emotionally naked and vulnerable, but Aye makes me second-guess that notion.

the pain doesn't stop him, though- Aye's been through hell and back. he's used to carrying great and terrible burdens, and normally he bears up under the incredible weight of them just fine. Aye is enormously and consistently selfless in the thing that matters most: his actions.

but we're different with the people who know us best, aren't we? with the people who raised us, or who have seen us at our worst, our best and love us anyway. they have clear line of sight into what makes us tick, what makes us happy- and what makes us ache.

Aye and his mother clearly have an open, compassionate relationship, from the little glimpses we've gotten. in episode 8, she gently confronts him about leaving this quest for answers about his uncle behind, for his own sake.

she soothes his guilt and fear that they could've done more to save his uncle before asking the terrible, necessary question to her son who's clearly, deeply hurting:

and it's because of his commitment to honesty that we get to witness Aye in a rare moment of awful vulnerability.

he looks gut-punched by her question. Aye knows he excels at understanding the people around him, and anticipating what they'll say and do by proxy. as much as he tries to live as transparently and authentically as he can, he keeps the exhaustion and grief he carries close to the chest.

he didn't see that question coming, or that his mother was aware of how much he's actually hurting; how achingly lonely it is to carry what he carries.

the initial shock wears off, and Aye hangs his head as he struggles to answer. his tiredness has to feel bone-deep and never ending- but he won't lie to his mother, he just won't. I don't think he's sure he can answer "no" honestly.

so he ruminates, and he hesitates. his mother holds her breath and looks horrified, but she gives him time.

and then Khaotung serves a masterclass in micro-expressions as we watch Aye muster up a little of his signature lightness to give her the brave answer: "no. I won't leave you, Mom."

and here's what simultaneously breaks my heart and makes me fall that much more in love with this gorgeously-nuanced character: he's not lying (not in my book, anyway).

we're watching Aye pull from an internal well that's obviously near-dry. he has to be honest, and he has to answer in a way that won't devastate this person he loves so much- so he digs deep and he just does. he finds a way- a spark of the fire that keeps him going.

this is how Aye shows love: by always authentically showing up, always- no matter the cost to himself.

if there's ever been a character deserving of rest, of care, of love given freely without reservation or hesitation- it's Aye.

[hedwig394]

I'm Not Yours

Derek Hale x Sarah McCall

Timeline: In S2E4, when Derek is training his betas, one of them tries to kiss him.

Derek's POV -

Isaac barrels towards me with a vicious look on his face. I stare at him, unfazed. Like that can scare me. He leaps at me but I push him out of the way effortlessly. Sure, the momentum makes it difficult, but not difficult enough.

Erica jumps at me from above and I toss her to the ground. She's no better. In fact, she's worse. Isaac at least has the mind to know that he isn't the best, but Erica is full of overconfidence. It's going to get her in trouble someday.

Boyd looks at from above, and cringes as both the betas fall to the ground. I know their bones are broken, they must be. Guilt creeps up my spine, but I shove it down. If I'm to teach them how to protect themselves, then they must sustain a few injuries.

"Does anyone wanna try not being completely predictable?" I ask with a frown.

It is then that Erica jumps at me. But she doesn't try to attack. Instead, she wraps her legs around my waist and presses her lips to mine. Eyes widening in shock, I push her away immediately.

"Don't ever do that again," I say, fury churning through my body. My eyes flash red and I see fear in hers, but I don't care.

I don't want to be kissed by anyone who isn't Sarah.

"Why?" She asks, scared, "Because I'm a Beta?"

"No." I say, "Because I'm Not Yours." I make sure to wipe my lips, just in case her lipstick has left a mark.

Isaac groans from beside her, uninterested in what just happened. "Are we done? I got about a hundred bones that need a few hours to heal."

I bend down in front of him and break his finger, "A hundred and one."

Isaac looks at me in shock and pain, and I hiss at him. "You think I'm teaching you to fight? Huh? Look at me! I'm teaching you how to survive! So if you don't wanna die, I suggest you take this seriously."

I stalk away from them and rush to my loft after putting my jacket on. I had promised to meet Sarah there, and I don't wanna be late. I don't want to miss even a single minute I have with her. Her brother thinks that it's just him who has to do a lot just to see his girlfriend, but he's wrong.

I have to do twice as much just to catch a glimpse of Sarah.

She waits at me at the loft, her long hair flowing behind her because of the wind.

"Angel..." I say. It's one of the few nicknames I have for her, another main one being 'honey'. She turns around and looks at me. Joy fills her eyes and she rushes towards me, throwing her arms around me. She doesn't care that I smell like tar and dirt, doesn't care that the dirt is all over my clothes and face.

I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her sweet-smelling hair. I kiss her cheek and all the emotions I've bottled down almost spill out. No, I can't let that happen. I have to stay strong for her.

She steps back and looks at me with tearful eyes. I pull her towards me and kiss her deeply, savouring the flavour and taste of her soft lips. She opens her mouth and I slip my tongue inside, exploring her mouth. She tastes like the sweet fruit at the end of countless hardships.

Sarah tastes like mine. There's not a lot I can call mine, but Sarah is mine. And I'll be damned to let anyone hurt her or take her away from me.

And the moan she gives makes me wanna carry her inside and show her just that.

But I have to keep the lust in control since I'd rather talk to her and hold her in my arms in those few stolen moments we have together than have sex with her.

I draw my head to let her catch her breath. I can go on for longer, werewolf lungs and all. But she's human. My human.

I caress her cheek gently and press a kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you, my Angel."

"I've missed you too, Sourwolf." She sniffs.

"Come on," I say, "Let's go inside."

She slips her hand in mine and we walk inside the loft. Sarah beams at the simple arrangement of the place and looks at me. "I've missed coming here."

"I know, I'm sorry," I say ruefully. The loft has not been the same without her. After we got together officially, Sarah used to hang out at the loft frequently. At one point, she was living with me. Those were the best days of my life. Just being with her, inside her and spending time in her presence gave me more happiness than anything else.

But then Gerard Argent showed up along with his pack of Hunters. I turned Isaac and Erica, and Sarah's brother started to hate me. I don't care, Scott's a child. He'll understand the ways of the world after growing up.

But unknowingly, that caused a rift between me and Sarah. It was too unsafe for her to be with me, with hunters prowling around and an unknown beast to add to the list. I know how low Gerard can sink, he can threaten and hurt Sarah just to get to me.

I once had a thought of breaking up with her for her own safety, but she had said to me "I'll carve your heart out with a scalpel and keep it as a prized possession if you ever do that." And that had led to a passionate make-out session.

"Derek..." Sarah's voice makes me look at her. But she isn't looking at me, she's staring at my jacket. "Why do you smell like women's perfume?"

Aah, that is Erica's fault. "Oh, it's nothing. I was going to tell you." I begin casually, but she looks anything but casual. Sarah's glaring at me like she never has before, and I gulp. "Angel, believe me, it's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" She hisses viciously, and at that moment, I can't help but admire how strong and confident she looks.

Right, back to the point.

I explain everything to her, starting from training to the point where Erica kissed me, and at the end, Sarah looks like she could commit first-degree murder. "I pushed her away immediately," I say, desperation clawing at my insides. Will she believe me?

Sarah glares at me. Then, she looks at her feet with a sigh. "Do you like her, Derek?"

"No!" I exclaim, aghast. "Honey, she's my beta, and she's also underage. I don't like her. I don't like anyone but you."

She doesn't look at me. "It's fine, Derek. If you don't like me anymore. I get it. It's been a hard couple of months. And I understand if you wanna be with me. Maybe a werewolf will be better for you."

"Sarah," I ball my hand into a fist. "Look at me."

She doesn't budge, and I gently lift her chin up. Her warm, chocolate eyes meet my werewolf red. She looks a bit frightened, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her hard against me.

"Look at me, Angel." I growl, "You're the only one I like, the only one I want. So don't even think for a second that I'll look at anyone else the way I look at you."

"I'm sorry," She says and my eyes go back to the usual green. "It's been so hard recently, so I thought that you'd give up and...." She looks at me worriedly, "Start looking for someone else."

"Sarah," I say calmly, "It's been very hard, yes. But I'm not giving up on you. On us. It's you for me, Angel."

Sarah gives me a shaky smile, and I continue, "And as for Erica, I pushed her away immediately and warned her to not do that again. You know why?"

She looks at me expectantly and I kiss her softly. "Because I'm not hers, Angel. I'm yours."

[levmada]

How do you feel about people calling Hanges sacrifice a suicide? They quite literally wanted to live but had a responsibility to carry the scouts forward.

i think it’s just about the most moronic, insipid, dumbass take in the entire fandom, which is saying something.

or i guess every time Hange appeared the people who believe this went to sleep or something.

i give my full thoughts here, but i’ll expand on them.

the idea Hange took the opportunity to commit suicide is SO diametrically opposed to their character in every way. Hange is a SCOUT: they put aside any fear of death or desire for family, a career, or a normal life in general in pursuit of living freely; they not only are willing to face the terror of the Titans but revel in learning about them, and by extension understanding the world around them. if there's ANYTHING which defines a scout—like Hange says also—it's their unyielding desire for a better understanding. in a cruel world such as Hange lives in, this is unfathomably brave.

first, their sense of duty, their responsibility, is heightened tenfold when they become commander. Erwin, who they admired deeply, is who they have to replace, and clearly, the person they consider their closest friend Levi (which is canon) believes in their leadership more than COMMANDER ERWIN. that's a lot of pressure.

((from their perspective, that is. it's unknown whether Levi ever told them his true feelings, but even if he did, they would know Levi believed Erwin was the only one who could help the Scouts save humanity. so it's lose-lose. actually that's worse.))

Hange felt so fucking guilty after the four years. it's clear how tired they were. after the Liberio battle, they felt that Erwin's choice to choose them as his successor was his one and only mistake, that it's their fault the Rumbling got as far as it did; they tell the alliance several times that it's unfair to drag them all into this, and they ask whether they're sure about it because of how the world might see Eldians when it's all over.

it's SO unreasonable for them to do, but their guilt overpowers.

one out of several reasons being, they had to dismiss Flegel and Peaure, when during the uprising arc, Hange was the one who pushed so damn hard for them to fight for the truth, and their own family. suddenly Hange can't tell the truth about where Eren is imprisoned and all of that.

now!! this argument between Hange and Flegel is THE EXACT MIRROR of the argument between Hange, Mikasa, and Jean when they all reunite after the rumbling starts. Jean similar to Flegel is arguing that Paradis will be spared, the Rumbling will give them protection for decades after, and it's the definitive way to guarantee their safety.

"a life as a mouse can still be a hard-fought one."

Hange concedes that they don't have the right to force them to fight, but genocide is wrong, and they won't be convinced otherwise. they admit that they're all here because their idealism was a weakness, and that they're a hypocrite because they wanted to run away with Levi, but they still have that responsibility to their comrades to make their sacrifices worth it.

Hange is wrong about their idealism being weak, and what right they have to ask for the others to fight, but it's their guilt. their weakness now is tangible, but their resolve is just as strong. they know, and believe, in their duty. there is absolutely no amount of hopelessness that could break that determination.

how, both knowing the earnestness of their character and the symbolism of the ghosts appearing here, would they lie or embellish here because they're actually suicidal? they want to stay alive and fight for all their sakes.

when the ghosts appeared to Erwin, he was pouring his heart out to Levi, and it's the same here. in fact their are many similarities between them, Erwin who "committed suicide", which is an erroneous take too, and Hange.

they both felt guilty for their actions and lack of action (the differences in their actions aside). Erwin tells Levi that at times he thought death would be easier, but he didn't want to die; he still fights for his dream. it's most likely been the same for Hange at this point.

he would go on to voluntarily die on Levi's order, and be the first to fall among a hundred new recruits. i mean the meaning can't be lost on anyone right? he pays for his sins with his life, and redeems himself with his death the same way every veteran would go on to do. for taking on their "demonic" roles like Sannes warns Hange of here.

it happens to Levi because of his choice and his moral devolution, and he redeems himself by killing Zeke and playing a major role in making the Scouts' collective dream finally realized; it happens to Nile for living with no regard to anyone but his family by being titanized, and redeems himself by helping Gabi and the Braus family escape during the invasion; etc.

Hange's sin was their willingness to run away. again back to the uprising: Hange argues that w/ the Survey Corps on the run, they hunker down in the cabin to remain safe, because Nick was murdered: "i was naive. it's my fault.'"

again do you see the resemblance? because there's more🥰.

besides their duty, it's Levi's resolve/strength, and their friends, that disproves the bullshit suicide theory.

Levi rebukes them by pointing out that their guilt is making them give up, and that hiding will just get them killed.

in the present, Levi again acts as their support. in the forest, they admit that they want to run away and live with him there. Levi tells them that they can't just keep running and hiding, and likely knowing the responsibility Hange feels to their comrades too, he points out that Hange won't be able to stay out of the action, and Hange agrees: they won't run.

and you want to tell me that Hange's sacrifice is them volunteering to quit, to run away, to die? PFFT.

similarly, their comrades give them strength on both sides of the aisle. both Mikasa and Pieck.

in a cosmic burst of irony, Hange does get to run away from the fight, but that's to keep the alliance safe, and give them the time to fix the plane. just like how they wanted to keep the Survey Corps safe during the uprising, and Levi safe after the explosion.

like what Hange chose to do thanks to Levi's support during the uprising, they're running away and fighting at the same time.

it was their duty as a Scout. it was Levi who helped give them bravery. they felt this sacrifice, for it to be "their turn", was their responsibility because they felt they failed the Scouts both living and dead. Hange didn't want to die!!

if Hange wasn't presented with this opporutunity, they would've fought proudly right beside Levi and the others. no doubt.

they even still have hope that Eren wasn't right. they're admitting defeat today, but even so, they believe peace will prevail one day.

it's the same (Hange would also echo levi's sentiment about the value of fighting if you were going to die anyway too.)

also, maybe it's a reach, but it's telling to me that as Hange comments on accepting defeat, they look just as scared when it's their death. Hange ALWAYS considered their life as belonging to the Survey Corps.

if all of this still isn't good enough, just look at how Hange was accepted by the ghosts of Scouts after their death. this is what drives me CRAZY about the suicide theory - it's completely unfounded!!!!

Erwin and Moblit, whose opinions Hange likely cared about most, are smiling at them, and Erwin puts it plainly. the Scouts are proud of Hange. Hange gave their sacrifices meaning, because now the alliance can catch up to the Rumbling. how can this be because of an intentioned suicide?

something that's pointed to is Hange's expression when saying goodbye for the last time.

they look pained and guilty right? but seriously...? knowing just how far Levi's strength got them, that it gave Hange the bravery, even, to do their sacrifice?? only to leave him alone when they were so close to reaching peace? of course they're upset. of course they feel pained and guilty. they probably even feel awful for feeling awful: this is it, and as perfect as that is, Hange feels awful because they were so close, but they had a job to do; Levi gave them strength, but Levi is alone.

to be succinct, i guess, it’s like this: because Jean wanted to block out what was happening and let the Rumbling happen, does that mean he doesn’t give a fuck about humanity and believed in Eren? NO.

it’s the same thing. because Hange quickly volunteered to do what was sure to kill them, did they not give a fuck about the Scouts and wanted to kill themself? NO.

[slicznymartwy]

Can I request Billy Lenz X AFAB!Reader where l the reader got pregnant because Billy forgot to use the condom.

my mind is going in a billion different directions on this one :0 its a little bit of a mess, but i rlly liked this prompt !! angst ahead warning: potentially dubcon, unprotected sex

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x afab!reader getting pregnant

you buy condoms out of self preservation. maybe it isn’t true self preservation, since you wouldn’t entertain billy at all if you really cared about your safety, but it gives you a little peace of mind. you leave them in your bedside table for the next time billy visits you, but you don’t remember them until he’s sitting back on his knees, keeping your legs spread to watch the mess he’s made spill out of you.

you don’t panic, even though there’s a little alarm bell in your head telling you that maybe you should be worried about letting a sick stranger finish inside you. you tell yourself that if there’s a next time, then you’ll stick to your guns and tell him what’s what.

but billy’s like a hurricane. he sweeps into your room and rips your mind to pieces. nothing makes sense when billy’s around - up is down, and every bit of knowledge you have about safe sex gets tossed aside for these new primal urges. your brain tells you he’s a stranger, but your core aches for him like he’s a familiar lover.

you shouldn’t be surprised when notice the symptoms. you know you’ve done this to yourself. you can’t even lie and say that billy forced you because he never did, you wanted it every damn time. you knew the condoms were right next to you the entire time, but you left them unopened because you wanted to feel the way billy adored your fucked and used hole.

a lot of thoughts cross your mind. you could take a break from school and move back home with your parents. it’s a common enough mistake among girls your age, they probably wouldn’t even dig too deeply into who the father was if you came up with a good enough lie. 

you think about your friends in the house - what if billy gets mad and hurts one of them? you wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if he lashed out to your friends.

shuddering, you also realize that this would be billy’s baby. who knows what he could pass on to his spawn. even if the baby was perfectly healthy, what kind of a father would billy be? what if he called nonstop and spewed obscenities into his child’s ear?

an abortion, you decide, would be the best course of action. the mistake was telling billy about it at all.

you only do it because it feels lonely, carrying this secret. you can’t tell your friends, because then they’ll ask who the father is. they won’t be satisfied with a shrug, and god forbid it gets spread around as a rumor. billy will keep your secret, at the very least.

you tell him in your bedroom, sitting beside each other on your bed. he doesn’t betray much on his face. you wonder if he understands, at first. then, you feel his fingers against your stomach, a gentle press. you touch his hand with your own, mourning your baby together.

the peace in the room doesn’t last must longer. you can tell the longer billy thinks about it, the more upset he’s becoming. his breath is coming faster and he rips away from you to fold in on himself, covering his face with his hands.

when he finally speaks, it feels like he’s trying to rip the baby out with just his words.

he calls you a stupid slut and asks why you did this, as if you chose this for yourself. he’s spiraling and he’s getting more and more upset. you don’t really understand him - you know so little about his past and it’s difficult to calm him down.

he blames you for it, and it breaks your heart. you weren’t sure what to expect from him, and maybe that is your fault. you really were terrible at self preservation.

notes bc i have more to say but not sure how to glue it together

feel free to interpret this how u like (personally i avoid the whole sa topic when it comes to agnes and i havent watched the 2006 version at all) but i think that whatever happened, billy feels some guilt. the thought of bringing his baby into the world terrifies him because to him, de facto he’s going to cause it pain.

like i said about the 2006 ver, never watched it im not a fan, but you can interpret his pain in that way too. it would bring up a lot of really wretched memories for him

i don’t think he would be ready for a baby at all. theres no reality where he’ll suddenly shape up and be any kind of father figure.

but for the sake of this being fiction, i do kind of like the image of him holding his baby for the first time and feeling a lot of love for it. maybe healing a little bit too. i think he’d be forced to watch his child’s life from the sidelines, he wouldn’t be allowed by reader to interact with their child at all, but i think he’d be proud to see them grow up. he’d see he can put good in the world, too. he doesn’t have to contribute to generational trauma. idk i know thats not how life works but it’s nice to think about

[cricket-reader]

Prince Charming

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: Bucky is confused as to how you have been able to keep your abusive relationship from him for so long.

Warnings: language, abusive relationship (not Bucky), bruises, Bucky’s negative self-image, guilt, fluff, pet names doll and dame

Word Count: 1224

Prompt: “It's really not that big of a deal." | Bruises | Secret | Acceptance

A/N: Day 29 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom sorry I haven’t kept up with it, I got a bit burnt out

It had been a long day for the Avengers. Battles had been fought, victories celebrated, and wounds tended to. As the team dispersed to their respective quarters, Bucky Barnes found himself lost in thought, his mind consumed by worry for someone he held dear.

Bucky, also known as the former Winter Soldier, had always felt a strong connection to you. He had ever since you first met him when he came to the tower after getting healed in Wakanda. Your kind heart and unwavering support had helped him find his place within the Avengers. The bond you shared went beyond friendship, and Bucky had fallen deeply in love with you. But you were taken. So, he never told you the truth of his feelings. After all, who could love a monster?

Lately, however, Bucky had noticed a change in your behavior. You seemed distant, always putting on a fake smile. It was as if you were carrying a burden, a secret that weighed heavily on your shoulders. Bucky had tried to approach you about it, but you would deflect his concerns, insisting that everything was fine.

One night, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Bucky decided to confront you. He found you sitting alone in the Avengers' communal living room, staring off into the distance. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, doll," Bucky said softly. "We need to talk."

You turned to face him, your eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and fear. "Bucky, I..."

But before you could say anything more, Bucky saw it. The bruise on your cheek, partially hidden by makeup. His heart sank, and he reached out to touch the mark gently, his fingers tracing the outlines.

"What happened?" Bucky's voice trembled with anguish.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” your voice shook with the fear of knowing what he’d do to you if he found out that you let someone else know. How could you be so stupid?

"Who did this to you?"

You shouldn’t tell him. Logic told you that, along with the intense fear of what it would mean to bear your heart and soul to this man.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally broke down. You began to reveal the truth, sharing the horrifying details of an abusive relationship you had been hiding from Bucky and the rest of the team. Damn the consequences. You had been hiding for too long.

Every word that escaped your lips was like a knife in Bucky's heart, and he felt a burning rage building inside him.

As you continued to pour out your painful secrets, Bucky's emotions swirled within him like a storm. He couldn't believe what you had endured, how you had suffered in silence for so long. His hands clenched into fists, and a quiet determination settled in his eyes.

You showed him the bruises you’d been hiding for months now that were concealed under your hoodie. His heart shattered as he laid eyes on you, the love of his life—albeit secretly, standing before him. Bruises marred your delicate skin, remnants of a battle he hadn't been a part of. Bucky's eyes filled with tears as he witnessed the evidence of the abuse you had endured. His hands trembled with anger and regret, his mind racing with questions. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you tell any of them? Why the hell would anyone dare lay a hand on such a beautiful dame?

"Doll," Bucky whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Your eyes flicked down to the floor, head lowering in shame. Tears pooled within your eyes as you saw the devastation etched across Bucky's face.

"Bucky," you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to worry. I thought I could handle it on my own."

Bucky took a step forward, his gaze softening, but the pain still evident in his eyes. "Doll, we're a team. We're supposed to protect each other. I should've known. I should've been there for you."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want to burden you with my pain."

Bucky closed the distance between you, his heart aching at the sight of your broken spirit. He gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and filled with remorse. A touch your boyfriend could never give you.

"You could never be a burden to me," he whispered, his voice filled with conviction. "I love you, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. Please, let me be there for you now."

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your secret finally lifting off your shoulders. You didn’t even realise what he had just confessed. You were so focused on his hands on your face. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

With a trembling breath, you nodded, allowing Bucky to draw you into a tight embrace. The two of you stood there, holding onto each other as if the world around you had ceased to exist.

Bucky whispered your name, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and determination, "I'm so sorry I didn't protect you. But from this moment on, I swear I will never let anyone hurt you again."

You looked up at Bucky, finding solace in the unwavering love and support shining in his eyes. It was as if his words had ignited a fire within you, reminding you of the strength you possessed deep inside.

Together, you and Bucky made a plan. You would seek professional help to heal the wounds, both visible and invisible. The Avengers would rally around you, offering their unwavering support, and Bucky would be by your side every step of the way.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. With the support of Bucky and the Avengers, you began to heal. The scars on your body and soul started to fade, replaced by newfound strength and resilience.

Bucky proved to be the rock you needed during your darkest moments. His love and unwavering devotion gave you the strength to confront your past and build a brighter future. Together, you faced the demons head-on, never once faltering in your resolve.

As time went on, the Avengers noticed the positive change in you. You weren’t perfectly okay because life wasn’t a sappy romance book where all your trauma just magically went away. But with Bucky’s help, and the team’s help, you were improving. You barely flinched when voices were raised and your nightmares subsided now that Bucky was sleeping next to you in your bed. He was like a personal dream catcher. He was your knight in shining armour. He was your saving grace.

You didn’t want to admit it when you were with your ex, but the way Bucky treated you made you feel like a high schooler with a crush. He was beautiful and respectful and encouraging. He never pushed you too far, and he always knew just what to say. Bucky was perfect.

You began to accept it. That maybe Bucky had been the one for you all along. That he was your Prince Charming.

Taglist: @harleycao @hallecarey1

[triviareads]

How did you like Lady Chatterleys Lover?

It was lovely! And that went beyond the (lovely, excellent, stupendous) sex.

I didn't expect to like Connie and Oliver individually as much as I did. Connie had a refreshing realism and was very much about taking each day as it comes, and trying to see the upside in things. This is in direct contrast to Sir Clifford who veered between wild optimism to the point of self-delusion and nihilism. Oliver truly was a gentleman in the ways that counted (Connie was right to note his "tenderness", even the little things like he walked her back to the gate after every tryst count imo).

Regarding the sex itself- it was hot, there's no denying it. I actually think the fact that they took their time with showing it (no one-pump chump scenes here, and there was oral!), and showing full nudity actually added to the emotional element and made it less tawdry. There were no dumb sex montages or gratuitous music (you could actually hear their moans and whatnot which, again, Hot). They also managed a MUCH better job of showing the female gaze than, say, Bridgerton. Hell, they even managed to show doggy-style from the female gaze in my opinion.

Basically, the viewer could see Connie and Oliver's relationship developing through sex and the intimacy that comes with it. This also made it special for me because I observed in a prior post that it's very rare for movies to do this. That's because often times in movies, there is like, one, sex scene and that's usually after some kind of build-up, rather than the sex itself being the build-up to love. Also, I deeply appreciated that there was never any scene that showed anyone (Connie especially) feeling guilty after sex, like... there was no "out damned spot" kinda guilt going on here. I've talked to a few people and every one of them named a different aspect of Connie and Oliver's sexual relationship that they were personally shook by so that was interesting.

There was this moment where Oliver is walking Connie back to the gate and he talks about how upper-class men, so called "gentlemen" have to be dead to a degree because of the soulless decisions they make in choosing to send men to mines or factories or to war and that HIT me so hard I almost teared up, probably because of the combination of his words and the romantic intimacy of the moment. Ultimately I did end up crying at the end because of the hope they'd carried with them (and Oliver's letter), despite everything they'd gone through.

I think we need more adaptations along this vein, and to be honest, this is the style in which I think historical romances can be adapted because they can stay true to the material of the text when it comes to the sex essentially being a building block in their romantic relationship.

[ruthlesslistener]

agsjdkskdjs I love your idea of ferrel child Hornet trying her best to kill Lurien. How do you think Lurien (and the other dreamers) felt about Hornet and Hollow?

Feelings were mixed! Most were sad or uneasy, at least for Hollow. I'll list the kids seperatly so that it's a bit easier to read

Hornet

Lurien: Started off terrified of her at first, partially because of her venom + bitey nature, but mostly because he had zero childcare experience and didn't exactly have a great childhood himself, so he had no idea how to interact with her. Those feelings softened into understanding and pity when he realized just how isolated she was as a demigod hybrid, however, because being isolated and rejected for not fitting in was exactly why he had a pretty damn sucky childhood. Grew quite soft for her over time, though he never was able to fully shake being wary about her fangs

Herrah: absolutely adored and prized her little baby. Anything else is out of the question. Still carried a heavy amount of guilt and regret for needing to abandon her so young, even though she knew Hornet had the strength to handle it. Would never have agreed to go to sleep if she knew the plan would fail in the end, but faliure was an option that she accepted, and she was proud of her child no matter what came to pass

Monomon: Quite fond of little Hornet and unbothered by her ferocity, though this was to be expected from someone who was immune to her venom and used to dealing with little hellions. She was deeply fascinated by the hybrid traits that Hornet exibited, and was chosen to tutor her in the sciences because of her patience and fascination with her

Hollow

Lurien: Of all the Dreamers, he was the most reserved on his feelings about the Vessel, but he was the one who suspected them the most. He wasn't labeled the Watcher for nothing, and his keen eye was able to pick up on minute nuances of their behavior that made him question just how hollow they were. Still, he never voiced his suspicions, as there was simply no other option but to trust that the King knew more about the void than he did, and so he took his concerns to the grave. Would feel the most guilty and take the most blame of all the Dreamers if he saw them post-Radiance, and saw his suspicions were true. Probably the most qualified for rearing them/helping them rehab out of the three, if only because he was so close to the King and knew how to move softly around such beings

Herrah: Never believed that Hollow was fully hollow even for a second, but didn't question it much because it would be dishonourable to challenge a young warrior's resolve, which she saw strongly in the Pure Vessel- and also because she knew that the cost of their sacrifice was her kingdom's survival, so the loss was of the Pale King, not of her. Held a great deal of disdain for PK modifying his child to deal with his problems instead of facing it himself, because Deepnest holds no sympathy for cowards and such actions are cowardice to the highest degree. One of the very few who did not hold some degree of fear or wariness when looking upon the face of a Void God

Monomon: She helped to study the void, amd to shape the Pure Vessel into being. Was her hand in that dark deed not enough? She shared the Pale King's flaw for looking at the vessels with an analytical eye, and kept whatever doubts she had about the process fully to herself. Realizing they failed was something that she processed more as an error in their experiment that manifested too late, if only because it was easier for her to handle than accepting that she played a part in condemning a young god to death

[cobawrites]

A Gust of Wind (Vash x Reader), Chapter 8

Vash x Reader, GN! Reader, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn Romance, TW: Mental Health Problems. Reader awakens to an unfamiliar world, left alone and struggling with mental health problems from before the crash. Vash emerges as a guiding light for Reader, and vice versa.

First >> Prev. >> Chapter 8 >> Next

A/N: Giggled and kicked my feet SO MUCH as I wrote this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

(God, this was so self-indulgent… My touch-starved is showing </3)

                                             A Gust of Wind

                                                Chapter 8 

Vash gave a whole new meaning to taking someone’s breath away. You struggled for air with muffled wheezing as he smothered your face into the crook of his neck, pressing his hand to the back of your head, crushing your chest against his, squeezing until he could no longer feel your warm, strangled puffs of breath against his skin. He repeated his words like a mantra. You came back… You came back…

Yes, you came back, but this was not the welcome you expected, nor deserved. His touch, like fire, burned hotter than Marlene’s. As he continued to melt your body into his, something hard and metal on his chest dug into your skin painfully, sure to leave a couple of dark bruises come tomorrow. This small atonement for your sins was all that kept your tears from streaming down your cheeks.

You were dizzy, sore, and blue in the face by the time Vash loosened his grip, giving you just enough room to expand your chest once again. His face was inches from yours as you took deep breaths, and his own ragged panting invaded your lungs. His eyes, beautifully dazed, fixed upon yours.

You would have given anything to gaze into those eyes of his again, the ones that saw through you in the way that, up until now, only your mother had. The ones that carried the same distinct taint of some deeply rooted sadness, of something that could leave anyone feeling othered, and utterly alone. And here they were, those familiar eyes, like home, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look.

“I’m sorry…” you said in a small voice, your face turned away from his. It was all you could manage. You hadn’t had time to think about what you would say once you found him. Your thoughts up to now were thoroughly preoccupied with deceiving the townsfolk and planning his escape. And besides, you’d be a liar if you denied the fact that you were simply terrified of how this conversation might go. You didn’t want to think about all the awful things you were so sure he’d say to you, and rightfully so. Despite his overwhelming, bone-crushing affection upon seeing you again, you still waited with bated breath for his response.

“Sorry?” Vash’s grip loosened a little more, his hands sliding to your shoulders. “Sorry about what?”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. A shaky sob escaped your lips. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sounds you could no longer hold back. A hasty barricade upon a breaking dam.

Suddenly, it was Vash who was comforting you. After everything that happened, beaten, bleeding, and bruised, he was the one comforting you.

And here you were, trying your damned hardest to keep your cries from alerting the gunmen passing by outside. All for what? Because you hurt your own feelings? Because you’d done a horrible thing you should never have done? Because you were the one responsible for every one of the mars on his beautiful face? You deserved every ounce of guilt weighing down upon you. And you certainly didn’t deserve the way his kind hands cradled your body once again.

Your chest heaved painfully as you desperately choked down your cries. You couldn’t help but run your trembling fingertips obsessively along every bloodstained bandage, as if you could somehow brush the lacerations softly away.

His right hand traveled up to your face, cupping your cheek carefully, like newspaper wrapping brittle glass. Vash pressed his forehead to yours, and coaxed your chin gently so that you’d look back at him the way he wanted you to. Finally locked in the gaze you both craved, each of you wondered if the other saw in themselves what you saw in each other.

Without a doubt, this man could read right through you. His soft, yet piercing eyes left not much to the imagination. You were an open book for him to flip through and enjoy. Something about this should have felt so violating, yet there was some relief in the way he turned each one of your pages with such delicate hands, careful not to make a single tear, leaving only the slightest fingerprints of his forefinger and his thumb. It was enough to make you wish he’d turn the pages a little faster.

But who was to say that the words on the pages read the same for him as they did for you? The way he looked at you was angelic and full of love, as if he weren’t staring straight into the eyes of a sinner. What did those pages read? What could they possibly be saying?

And Vash. He paraded with the guise of a paperback, but underneath the decorative sleeve was a hardcover. You longed to touch it, if only to feel the tiny grooves of the leather, before trading away whatever secret scraps of paper you had left for the chance to read the entirety of his first page. There had to be more to this man than what you could see, even now. You wanted to see, and you knew that he wanted you to, as well.

Still, there were parts of him that maybe even he couldn’t read. Chapters he probably skipped every time he opened his book. Chapters he simply refused to recognize. But you did. You at least knew they were there. Perhaps Vash didn’t quite understand the value of the ink on his pretty pages. He would rather feed them to the fire to keep his neighbors warm on a cold desert night than to ever acknowledge that he may be worthy of something softer.

Your fingers ghosted over a particularly bloody bandage, messily tied right over his clothes. Carefully, you unwrapped it. The gash was long, and rather deep, cutting across the side of his torso. It would leave a scar, for sure.

“Take off your shirt,” you whispered, your hands already sliding underneath the hem.

Vash hesitated as you gently started lifting the shirt for him. “I’d… really rather not,” he responded.

Your fingers pressed against his belly as he placed his hand over yours, preventing you from going any further. His skin was surprisingly rough, and… Was that a piece of metal?

You started to back off, but one more look at the wound you had just unbandaged strengthened your resolve. “Let me help you,” you insisted, tensely gripping the edge of the fabric.

Vash swallowed hard, agonizingly contemplating what to say. It made no sense to refuse your help in his current state, but still. His mind raced through all your possible reactions if he were to go through with this. He wasn’t sure if he could bear much more at the moment.

“Please…” you begged, intertwining your fingers with his and gently guiding his hand aside.

He could no longer refuse you. The way you were looking at him made him wish he could repeat this scenario anywhere else, in a safer place, just the two of you. Taking a deep breath, he slowly removed his shirt.

You couldn’t help but gasp a little. Immediately, there was a look of regret on his face, and he almost began to reach for his shirt once again. However, your hands now rested softly along his ribs, catching him by surprise.

You brushed your fingertips, featherlight, over his torso, almost as if in a trance. His skin was covered all over with large scars, burn marks, and even metal bits that appeared to function as prosthetic pieces. What happened to this poor man?

Images from earlier that day crept up in your mind. Was this the price he paid for the sake of people like you? You bit your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, all in a desperate attempt to keep your composure. This was a vulnerable moment for him, and you would do your best to make him understand just how special he was.

“Oh, Vash…” you breathed, resting your forehead on his shoulder while your hands lightly stroked each and every scar. The way you caressed his sensitive skin, the way you slowly dragged your hands along the marred tissue over his heart… It sent a shiver down his spine. A shiver that coursed right through your own fingertips.

At this, you reeled yourself in, shaking your head a little and turning around to hide a furious blush. His reaction would stay engraved in your memory for quite some time.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you reached over for the medical supplies in your bag. You could feel Vash’s heavy gaze on your back as you did so. He watched your every move as you retrieved disinfectant and fresh bandages, and relished in how you cleaned his wound so gently. He could barely hold himself back from putting his hands on you again, trying not to get in the way of your work.

“I know it’s hard, but try not to move so much on this side,” you said, double checking to make sure the bandage was snug. “Otherwise, it’ll just keep bleeding through.”

“Mhmmm…” he hummed, although judging by the glazed look in his eyes, it didn’t really seem like he was listening. His hands snaked up your arms as he pulled you close.

Suddenly, you were pulled flush against his chest once again, and his forehead pressed softly to yours. Vash had a big, goofy smile on his face. “I can’t believe you came back.”

You wanted to smile. You really did. But you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken at the way he said those words. They didn’t quite match the look on his face. Instead, you settled for a nod and a light squeeze to his hand.

“Does this mean… you’ll stay?” He asked tentatively, suddenly not looking you in the eyes.

Your heart sank. You didn’t know what to say. Lying crossed your mind, but he probably already knew your real answer from the way you hesitated to respond.

You couldn’t do it again. As much as you cared for him, you could in no way guarantee that you could do it again. You couldn’t vow to stay the way you’d done for your mother. It was a broken promise waiting to happen.

Vash’s fingertips dug into your skin, not quite hard enough to cause pain, but hard enough that it made you look, just to be sure that it was, in fact, his hands gripping you this tightly. You turned your gaze back to him. He still refused to look you in the eyes, but you could see that his expression was pained and pleading.

“Please… Stay…” he whispered softly, his breath on your lips. “If not for me, then…”

His chest heaved slightly before he continued, taking you by surprise. “God… I was so scared. I thought you’d never come back. I thought I had failed you. I thought you would… I thought…”

At this, it was your turn to give him a hard squeeze. “You are not responsible for me, Vash,” you stated firmly, moving your head to look directly into his eyes. You couldn’t keep the frustration out of your voice. “For the love of God, don’t you ever think about yourself?”

“I am thinking about myself!” He retorted, his words dripping in a tone you weren’t used to hearing from him. It nearly made you flinch, but you stood your ground.

“Does letting others drag you into situations where you’ll get the crap beaten out of you count as thinking about yourself, then?” You hissed angrily, trying to keep your voice down. “You were worried about me, but I was freaking out about you, too! You could have died.”

“You could have died, too! In fact, you did almost die the last time, so don’t give me that!” Vash furrowed his brows. His grip on your arms was starting to sting.

“That is my business. Mine, not yours!” You said, attempting to tear yourself away from him, but he only held on even tighter. “Besides, it’s my fault that you even got into this mess to begin with!”

His grip let up and his expression softened. A few moments of silence passed by as he looked at you curiously. “Is that what you think?”

More silence. Once again, you didn’t know how to respond. You knew this was a question you’d keep coming back to, as long as Vash was the one asking. But the answer was obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to put it. Your demons would drag you down, and your anchors down with you.

“Listen, I am being selfish, okay?” He breathed softly into your ear, resting his temple on yours. His hands traveled up your back, wrapping you in a gentle hug, attempting to calm you down. He could feel your pulse rising. “Please, let me be selfish.”

“Let you… be selfish?”

“Yes. You said you were sorry, right?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder blades as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. You nodded slowly. “Well, then don’t ever do that again. Don’t run from me ever again. Don’t leave me, (Y/N).”

His shaky breath felt warm against your skin. The realization was setting in for him. Swallowing your nerves, you gently wove your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp in apology for the words you couldn’t speak. You hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

Vash sighed heavily. With sudden force, he squeezed you in his arms. It was too tight, too strong to escape. Once again, you could hardly breathe. 

“Well, that’s okay. I won’t let that happen. Ever again.”

[transingthoseformers]

I am picturing the story starts during Thunderclash's funeral. Basically, when Megatron hears that their son is dying, he takes Starscream's midnight call and tells him before he can hang up, sending him the coordinates. Starscream doesn't thank him, but he does immediately rush from Cybertron, taking the fastest ship he can find with a deeply suspicious accompaniment with him.

No one on the Lost Light or Vis Vitalis expects him, except Firestar knows Thunderclash had marked a list of Cons allowed to attend and doesn't know-know but understands there is some connection. Megatron and Starscream eventually hover together and start talking about memories. Megatron finds he'd snuck into Thunderclash and finds Starscream talking to him softly, calling him his childhood nickname "Bitty". They have an intimate emotional moment and share their first genuine emotion in years.

Then they get interrupted and chased out and it closes off.

The personality ticks occur, but now with the additional parent-child reunion. Thunderclash is panicking and sick and also strangely comforted to have his parents watching over him like when he was small. Megatron tries to call him his birthname, but he bristles. Then Rodimus interrupts suspicious and leads Thunderclash away, and Thunderclash has a miniature breakdown all over him, saying he can't go into Rodimus's crew under false pretenses.

He tells Rodimus all about his life as MegaStar's first child growing up with the Decepticons and truly believing, watching things fall apart and get steadily darker, and then the final straw for him when he saw Megatron and Starscream's actions in the face of Nyon. Hot Rod helping the Autobots inspired young Thunderclash to leave and he confronted Megatron, leading to a large fight the phrases "no creation of mine" and "if you believe that you aren't my child" and Thunderclash having a heart-to-heart with doubtful uncle Thundercracker who breaks him out of grounding. Thunderclash runs off and changes his name.

He's young, the Cybertronian equivalent of a young teen, Rodimus is older, and runs into Ratchet while there. Ratchet kind of takes him in since he knows basic first aid as a helper and fosters him from there as Thunderclash learns everything and anything and gets a frame change away from a tank.

Rodimus listens to this increasingly upset story and Thunderclash's imposter syndrome feelings and doubts about his place and feelings of guilt and how it felt to have his own Carrier put a hit out on him and finds he likes messy Thunderclash a lot more and that he is very lonely and recognizes some of those feelings.

Plus it turns out Thunderclash is an ugly crier. Which Rodimus thinks is a bonus. He knows that he cries pretty.

He drags Thunderclash to his room for a session of Netflix and Chill which Rodimus does not realize is code for anything but movies and cuddling. They bond and Rodimus feels a little protective of the big guy and fully welcomes him to the Crew when Thunderclash thanks him for his kindness but says he understands that his invitation was no doubt rescinded.

Rodimus tells him "no take backs" and grins and Thunders swoons a little.

Starscream and Megatron meanwhile had a reunion themselves despite Bee telling Starscream this was a terrible idea. It was inspired by the sudden return of positive feelings surrounding saving their kid. Starscream leaves unaware that Megatron is carrying. Again.

Oh right the pre-funeral!!

Makes sense that the one damn thing they agree on rn is they need to see their kid, who is dying (maybe. Probably. He's Thunderclash, you two produced a kid that somehow was always dying but never does die)

Hmm. So Firestar knows ~something~ is up.

People must've had so many thoughts upon seeing that not only is Megatron here, but Starscream too. And they're vaguely near each other. A nice lot of mecha probably thought they were planning decepticon murder shit or something

aWWW YES. THEY'RE TRYING

THEY'RE FAILING, BUT THEY'RE TRYING

oh roddie oh thunder

this had to be one hell of an emotional moment between them, especially since it would conflict with what Rodimus thinks about Thunderclash in such a beautiful way. Because yes, I think Rodimus does deserve to see that Thunder isn't just an icon of the Perfect Autobot™️ to envy and resent, but an actual person with his own insecurities and flaws and oh Thunderclash.

Oh Thunderclash

Yes. Thunderclash is exactly an ugly crier, nice to see someone else agrees too.

He knows he cries pretty

Roddie how could you possibly know that, why do I feel like there's a story there

I mean hey sometimes you need to chill with some Netflix in order to Netflix and Chill another day. Aww. Yes.

Aww yes yes welcome to the crew Clashy

Bee tried lol Bee tried.

He failed, but he tried.

Again :)

[kn95-blog]

reigen definitely strikes me as the kind of guy who wants to take care of everything, and i think it's largely because he doesn't have any adult friends. even when serizawa comes in, serizawa is an adult but he doesn't know how to do a lot of adult things because of the way he lived for so long before working for claw and then working under reigen. i don't think he understands how insurance works, or credit, or taking out a loan, or refinancing your car or a mortgage or any of that shit.

because of this, he really does see himself as The Responsible Adult in most situations, so he takes care of everything. because once again, 99% of his friends are the gaggle of teenagers that mob brings around, *of course* they don't understand insurance, they're like 14 years old *max*.

he sees himself as The Responsible Adult, leading to situations like what he was trying to do with the members of claw before mob accidentally transferred his powers to him--he was trying very hard to leave the kids out of it so they didn't have to deal with these grown-up freaks, because he knows damn well kids shouldn't have to deal with things like this, of course adults should be more responsible than this. and that's another reason he tried to get mob and everyone to run away, even if that was nowhere near a viable option for them.

this is part of what draws me to reigen, the way he switches in and out of situations, what makes him such a multifaceted character.

to himself, he's a responsible adult, or an adult that should be more responsible because he's an adult. he's also a liar, a conman, a cheat. i don't think he genuinely sees himself as a good role model. he probably views himself in a shade of grey, but closer to the black side. i think he carries a lot of guilt and shame for that, and he tries to make up for it, but it never feels like enough to him.

but to mob, he's a person who made some mistakes because he wanted to put food on the table and do/be something interesting, because he doesn't realize how cool he is without having to lie. he's also, despite that, both smart and wise and can be so genuine when he's trying to motivate mob. he's an amazing teacher, not necessarily for his psychic powers, but more so for guiding and leading mob through life when he struggles to understand people and social situations and can be gullible and anxious.

to the former members of the seventh division of claw, he is one of the most powerful psychics in the entire world, who is just as wise as he is powerful, with the kinds of perspectives on life that they couldn't even comprehend. he's someone that deeply humbled them and their childish dreams of world domination, motivating them to strive to be better people, to get involved in their communities instead of chasing after nonsense, helping them realize they're no better than anyone else. that if they're nothing without their powers, then what are they really?

to serizawa, he's one of the guys that helped get him out of claw and into the real world, where he and mob showed him that while his former boss helped him, he wasn't a good person. to serizawa, he's smart. despite being a conman, reigen is someone that serizawa can look up to. even if their methods are somewhat fraudulent, serizawa now has the power to make up for past pain he's caused by helping everyday people with their everyday problems, and even their not-so-everyday problems, and that can get him out of bed in the morning with confidence. to serizawa, reigen was one of the first real friends he's ever had.

reigen definitely doesn't see himself the way that other people see him.

edit: undoubled the last bit T0T

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

No Place Like Home

a romantic Doctor Strange one-shot based on this prompt:

rating: general audience

pairing: Stephen Strange x Hope Collins (OFC)

genre: romance, fluff

word count: 2.3k

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stephen had never expected to be living his best life so soon after the darkness, despair, and psychological devastation of the thousands of years he'd spent searching for the path to victory over Thanos. In the weeks following The Return, he had suffered in silence, believing it was his lot, especially as he could not forget all the lives he couldn't save, which resulted from that catastrophic battle. Only Wong had any clue as to the pain, guilt, and sleeplessness that Stephen endured, and he had tried in every way possible to alleviate it. But it was the unexpected return of the woman that Stephen had fallen in love with over the course of his lonely, agonizing journey, that had wrought the miracle that allowed him a happiness he never could have imagined. By mid-July, she had practically moved into his suite of rooms at the Sanctum, which was the sweetest sort of icing on an already delicious cake.

Of course, it wasn't a perfect life, but it was damn close. In the months since their reunion, Hope had become the most necessary part of his days (and nights), and when his work took him far from the New York Sanctum, Stephen carried a perpetual but somehow pleasant ache in his chest. It was good. Oh, so good. To not only love someone in the depths of his soul, but to know without doubting, that he was deeply and unconditionally loved in return. What more could any man hope for?

He reminded himself of this fact often as the pace of his work began to intrude upon their time together. Hope was patient and understanding, not only because of her love for him, but because it was her nature—and as one of those who'd lived in the aftermath of a world made somber by The Blip, she like so much of humanity, had learned to appreciate every new moment with the loved ones they had believed were lost forever. Still, it bothered Stephen with each missed date, each assignation cut short. And he began to wrack his brain for some solution to the problem, or at least to find a way to treat his woman to something special as a proffer of consolation.

One evening after an especially tiring day—he'd been part of a team sent to exorcise a clutch of demons infesting the Acropolis, that had been playing havoc with tourists and townspeople alike--after which he'd been required at Kamar-Taj for deliberation over assignments for freshly promoted Adepts. Hope could easily see how incredibly exhausted he was. But as Stephen had been determined not to miss another evening in her company, she simply decided to put her foot down.

"Look, you can't keep doing this, darling." He was resting his head against the sofa back, with his eyes closed, while one of her favorite sit-coms streamed on the television. Stephen only grunted, already half asleep. "This burning the candle at both ends. You're burning yourself out..."

"No, I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm just..." he yawned despite trying his best not to,"I'm just resting my eyes."

Hope snuggled a little closer, though she firmly maintained her point. "No. No, you're not. You're exhausted and you know it. And I'm afraid I'm not helping—you should be in bed this very instant."

Though his eyes remained closed, Stephen already knew the stubborn look she wore just from the tone of her voice. He hummed in his throat, and replied with a smirk, "Only if you'll come with me."

Sitting up, she gave an exasperated sigh. "I knew you were going to say that!" Hope laid her hand on his arm, "As much as I appreciate the invitation, I think it's best I spend tonight at my place. You need a full night's rest Stephen. A full night of restorative sleep. And as pleasant as sharing your bed is, we both know it's rarely...restful..."

As physically spent as he felt, Stephen couldn't help but enjoy her inuendo. He sat up to face her squarely. "I promise, for tonight anyway, all I'm gonna do is sleep." He threw in a pout he knew she couldn't resist. "Pleeeeease? I miss spending time with you, and it's not fair to you to have such a part-time boyfriend. So, I'd rather take any time we can get together, even if I'm...unconscious."

"Oh, Stephen, what am I going to do with you?"

Tenderly, he cradled Hope's cheek in his hand, watching her resolve begin to melt . "Let me hold you while I fall asleep," he insisted", And I'm certain I'll get all the rest I need."

True to his expectation, Stephen slept more soundly than he had in weeks. And he dreamt of many things; such uninterrupted REM sleep was rare for him, and his weary mind cycled through much of his recent experiences. Though he couldn't recall all of them upon awakening the next morning, one dream in particular stood out because it featured Hope. They had walked hand in hand through one of the marketplaces adjacent to Kamar-Taj, and she had been enchanted by all the sights and sounds, all the vibrant colors and rich scents and exotic flavors, that Kathmandu had to offer. She had gazed in awe at the snowcapped Himalayas and marveled as he'd pointed out Mt. Everest and shared the story of how The Ancient One had stranded him there in a bid to get him to finally tap into his mystic abilities. In the end, he and Hope had stood eagerly before the main gate to the compound, for he wished to share with her all that was important to him there. But he'd awoken before they'd been able to enter grounds.

Stephen's first impulse was to share the amazing details of his dream with Hope, but he found himself alone and given the time—mid-morning—he guessed she had already headed off to work. A supposition confirmed once he threw on his bathrobe and headed to the smaller of the Sanctum's two kitchens and found she'd left a travel mug filled with hot coffee on the counter, and a note beside it telling him a veggie omelet with a side if bacon was warming in the oven for him. And don't work too hard today, Stephen, she had added. You need to set some limits for yourself so that you don't get burnt out. If I have to, I will speak to Wong about it myself; there's no reason that some other wizard (or two or three) can't pick up the slack so that you can take better care of yourself! Or let me do that for you...

Of course, he ended up back in Kamar-Taj to teach an evening class, on Kathmandu time, and then back in Greenwich Village to oversee the monthly inventory of ancient relics. All the while, the images of that dream remained with him, softening the edges of his work day and making him long all the more for a chance to spend the kind of quality time with Hope, as he had in their dream sojourn to Kathmandu.

Only as he finalized the inventory figures, plugging them into the spreadsheet that one enterprising Adept had created to make the task easier, did Stephen realize there was nothing but taking the initiative of inviting her, keeping his dream from becoming reality. Refreshed as the very thought of sharing that very important piece of his life with her, he zipped off a text asking Hope if she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of the evening with him in the Sanctum. This was something he was looking forward to asking her in person, already sure that her spontaneous, brilliant smile and the twinkle in her remarkably blue eyes, would signal her answer in the affirmative well before she uttered 'yes'.

He had portaled them to an alleyway on the outskirts of the compound as a matter of discretion, but also because he wanted Hope to get a feel for the community and the environs surrounding the sacred grounds of Kamar-Taj. And in keeping with his dramatic nature, Stephen wanted her to experience the full reveal of the place he'd come to love best on earth, and that could only be achieved upon entering the main gate.

As he had expected, Hope was excited about this new adventure, commenting on the colorful market stalls they passed, as well as upon the wealth of green and growing things that marked the humble homes and small gardens wedged between the mish mosh of buildings that had grown up around their destination. "I've never seen such pretty little gardens growing at such close quarters," she exclaimed, "The Nepalese must have true green thumbs!"

"Ah, I was hoping you'd appreciate that," Stephen replied, and then went on to explain, "Because it's really a matter of magic..."

"You mean everyone here practices the mystic arts?"

Hope had slipped her arm through his, which in this place held a magic of its own for him. He laid his free hand atop hers and leaned a little closer, dropping his voice confidentially, "Actually, it's magic in the soil and water and air. Centuries and centuries of residual magic emanating from Kamar-Taj, which these plants have absorbed through their roots. In fact, the flowering & fruit trees and vegetable plants within the compound blossom year-round as a result, and over the years the effect has spread out from Kamar-Taj into the ground of the surrounding neighborhoods. Even those residents who are unaware of what we do here—thinking that we're a monastic order of sorts, dedicated to religious study—understand their bountiful gardens are related to their proximity...and consider themselves blessed to live this close."

"Deciduous trees, however..." he added, feeling the beat of his heart pick up its steady pace with delightful anticipation of Hope's reaction to this place that had healed him in so many ways, "...still experience the vibrant colors of fall before shedding their leaves, but they remain on the branches well into the new year–unless there comes wind and rain of hurricane proportions." With that they stood before the double doors of the intricately carved, two-story gateway. Stephen laid his palm against the thick, aged wood and spoke a single word. Reverently enough that he felt Hope lightly shiver at his side. "Shamballa." They heard a loud creak and then the doors swung open before them, allowing him to usher his woman inside.

Hope inhaled in amazement, but remained silent otherwise, as she took in vision all around her. Masters and students alike walked the clean swept cobblestones toward various buildings, while others lounged about the edges of the courtyard in small clusters of twos and threes. Stephen picked up on the soothing tinkling of chimes beneath the quiet conversations around them and the occasional decorous burst of laughter. Hope had tightened her hold on his arm as he led her forward, his goal an ancient tree of cherry blossoms that held place of pride among all the other growing things. He brought them to a stop just several feet from the low retaining wall that surrounded the tree's base.

"Oh my gosh...oh my gosh, Stephen! It's gorgeous...all of it. Gorgeous. Like something..." Hope did a slow spin, taking in the view all around, "...out of the myth of Shangri-La..."

"Not too far from it," he grinned, drinking in her reaction as though it was his own first time seeing the weathered, venerable buildings along with the verdant gardens and flowering trees, set against the glory of the pristine, snow blanketed mountain tops in the distance, beneath a spotless blue sky. "Kamar-Taj is a quiet gem in the mountains' shadows...a place to seek peace and tranquility for those blessed enough to find the path."

"If this were my home, I doubt I'd want to leave...well, at least for a very long time, anyway."

Stephen nodded. "Yes, for the longest time, it always felt more like home to me, than the New York Sanctum. When I've felt out of sorts or as though I'd lost my connection to the energy that is the basis of all magic, just returning was enough to restore me..."

"Was?" Hope wore a sly little smile, as though she already knew the answer to her simple query.

He took both of her hands, focusing his sight on their twined fingers. "Indeed. But my concept of home has changed considerably since Titan." He stepped into Hope, raising her hands to rest on his shoulders before settling his on her hips. "Home has become more than a place, sweetheart—because home for me, is now wherever you are." She blinked up at him guilelessly, moistening her lips in the prelude to a kiss. A warm, late summer breeze swirled around them, rustling the branches of the majestic cherry blossom tree, sending loosened petals fluttering artfully about them.

Hope's soft giggle enchanted him as, inevitably, petals landed on her dress and in her hair. "And it seems this place means to welcome you, sweetheart. In the prettiest way possible," he mused, reaching to brush the pretty, pink blossoms from her auburn hair.

"Wait," she asked softly, her eyes alight with the love that now sustained him in ways he'd never dared imagine could be his. "Leave them for now, Stephen. Please. I've never been kissed in a place of true magic, and it would be foolish to miss this chance like something out of a fairy tale."

Ever willing to cede to her requests, Stephen cupped her cheeks and drew her close and kissed her long and deep—not giving a second thought to the eyes around them that took note. While thinking that perhaps...someday...if they should marry, there could be no sweeter place on earth to undertake those vows. And promising himself that if there was no breeze that day, he'd be certain to stir enough of one to shower her in petals if it would please her well.

Author's Note:  I'd fully meant to have Stephen be called away to duty—a meeting with Wong & the other Masters, or some such—so that when he returned at dusk, ready to apologize for missing out on their time together, he'd find Hope busy at her own work. Adding the perfect hues of pink and blue (for his robes) to her latest drawing, wherein he stood looking quite amused with petals caught in his jet black hair. In addition to a Blue Morpho butterfly alighting upon his shoulder. But I couldn't quite fit it in without disturbing the romantic ending to this piece. But please do feel free to imagine such a sight for yourselves!

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