#eventually caught and dragged for so long that her hands are filed down flat ends

[screamsofanoutlawbrain]

The freakshow au belongs to @hootbon

I think over the years, she'd become a little unsettling. <3

She's totally not crazy guys, I promise 🤭/j

[hazza-bear-care]

Stay Safe (2/3)

LOVE IN AN ELEVATOR

Summary: Nova retaliates with giving Spencer a blowie in the elevator after work. 

Warnings: Smut, Oral (male receiving), semi-public sex

~~~~~

The BAU was buzzing with talk about the most recent case as everyone settled in for a long night of paperwork. Hotch and Gideon decided to spend the night in their respective offices, occasionally coming out for coffee refills and bathroom breaks. Nova fell into a steady pace, her secretary side coming out in full swing. Sitting across from Spencer, however, served difficult in terms of trying to concentrate. No matter the movement, something as simple as watching the way his fingers flexed around his pencil just made Nova melt, the memory of his fingers buried deep inside her keeping her focus on the man across from her rather than the stacks of files on the desk. 

“Nova? You got a little drool on the corner of your lip. I know Reid is attractive, especially after that little stunt on the jet, but you have some paperwork to do,” Morgan snickered from across the room as Nova ducked her head into a file in front of her, a futile attempt to hid her blush and avoid questions from the rest of the team. 

“Wait, what happened on the jet?” JJ asked, her blonde hair spilling out of her messy ponytail. 

“Nothing, JJ. Derek must have been dreaming,” Spencer chimed, a huge smirk planted obviously on his face when he made eye contact with Nova. 

“Wasn’t a dream, loverboy.” Derek dismissed the conversation and continued to file his reports. 

~~~~

The hours kept ticking away, eventually leaving Nova and Spencer alone in the abandoned bullpen. Slamming her last folder closed, she swept it into the trash can next to her desk with a groan. 

“I joined the FBI to get AWAY from paperwork!” Nova declared to no one in particular as she stood to get another cup of coffee. Spencer chuckled from his desk, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading seeing as he had finished his files and insisted on waiting for Nova to finish. 

“You know you can ask for help, right?” Spencer called, snatching Nova’s remaining file out of the trash. 

“I didn’t know that, Spencer. But either way, it’s my work. Why bother someone else with it?” Spencer looked up from the papers that scattered over his once clean workspace and directed his attention to the young woman in front of him: her hair was deflated and flat, the tips frizzy. She was biting on her bottom lip and tapping her finger tips against the black mug in her hands as her eyes looked everywhere but Spencer. Making a mental note of her anxious tics, Spencer sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 

“Nova, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re a team, right? Teams are supposed to help each other out.”

“Oh so what happened on the jet was just ‘helping me out’? Come on, Spencer,” Nova bit, hiding her smirk by taking a sip of her coffee. 

“I’m sorry, I seem to recall you enjoying that, love.” Spencer smiled as Nova’s face heated up tremendously. 

“There’s that name again, too. What are we doing here, Spence?” Nova questioned, repeating her tics. 

“Paperwork.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Spencer.” The man in question stood from his desk with the completed file in his hand. He traded Nova the file for her coffee cup, placing the now cold liquid somewhere behind him. Nova held the file close to her chest, amazed that he was able to complete it so fast, but also mesmerized by the intense stare she was held in. 

“Nova, I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. Maybe over dinner, sometime?” Nova didn’t respond, her eyes glued to Spencer’s lips. She stayed silent, throwing herself into his grasp and smashing their lips together. The file was on the floor, papers scattered everywhere as the couple continued to kiss. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Spencer asked softly. Nova nodded and smiled, agreeing to a date with the famous Dr. Spencer Reid. With a smile on his face, he pulled Nova back to place another kiss to her lips, but this one was softer and faster. He scooped up the paperwork and left Nova cold as he stepped away to put it in a folder by Hotch’s office door. When he turned around, Nova was still frozen in the place she was left, eyes not really focusing on anything. Spencer smiled and snapped his fingers, drawing Nova’s attention and blush. She scurried to her desk and gathered her supplies, anxious to end the day. As Spencer took his time filling his satchel with his belongings, Nova opted to wait for him by the elevator, a scandalous plan cooking in her head.

“Ready to go?” Nova asked once Spencer joined her at the elevator. With a smile and a quick nod, Nova reached forward and pushed the button, leaving the pair to wait in silence. Nova couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face when the elevator arrived, her anxiety levels rising. Maybe she shouldn’t do it? No. She had to. 

When the elevator doors rolled closed, Nova wasted no time in dropping her stuff and slamming Spencer into the wall, lips colliding once more. Spencer moaned and adjusted himself to accommodate the height difference between them, the kiss getting heavier. Nova took the initiative and trailed her hand from Spencer’s chest to his crotch, gasping silently at how hard he was with just a little friction. Pulling away from Spencer, she turned and removed her jacket, flicking it up and over the camera in the corner. No one needed to see what she was going to do to the not-so innocent Dr. Reid. Satisfied that her jacket was situated correctly, Nova turned to see Spencer still pressed up against the wall where she had left him. With an evil smirk, Nova stepped over to the young doctor and sunk to her knees, smiling fully when she heard Spencer gasp above her. She made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers until they were sitting just above his knees. She took Spencer’s rock hard dick in her hand and kissed the tip, licking her lips to taste the little droplets of precum. Spencer groaned again as Nova dragged her tongue under his dick as she licked from base to tip two times. 

“Fuck, Nova, please,” Spencer begged, his fingers wrapped firmly around the strap of his satchel. With a slight smile, Nova dragged her tongue over him one more time, this time opting to take him in her mouth as far as she could go. Whatever she couldn’t fit in her mouth, Nova made quick use of her hands and pumped the rest with one, cupping his balls with the other. She hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue, relishing in the noises Spencer was making. He found his bearings and replaced his satchel strap with Nova’s hair, tugging lightly on her light brown strands which earned a moan from her. Spencer dropped his jaw at the vibrations caused by Nova’s moan and he pulled her closer to him. Nova allowed him to control her, but she couldn’t suppress the gag that rose quickly in her throat. That just made Spencer moan louder. His hands readjusted as they left the top of her head and travelled to the back, gathering Nova’s hair into a makeshift ponytail which pushed more of him down her throat. 

Nova pushed herself off with a gasp, but quickly placed her mouth back on Spencer’s cock, loving the weight on her tongue. She wished for a memory like Spencer’s so she could remember exactly how his veins felt when his cock twitched. While Nova wasn’t the most experienced with blowjobs, she could tell that Spencer was close. Focusing her attention on his tip, she sucked as hard as she could, pumping the rest of his member frantically. 

“Fu-FUCK, Nova. I’m gon-na cum,” Spencer moaned. Three seconds later, he exploded in Nova’s mouth his hands holding her head still as he deposited everything he had to offer in her waiting mouth. Nova swallowed, pulling off Spencer with a pop as she came back up to kiss his lips multiple times, bringing his pants and boxers back up with her. 

“How long have you been planning that?” Spencer questioned breathlessly as Nova gathered her stuff from the floor. 

“About five minutes,” Nova replied with a smirk, adjusting herself appropriately. 

“Fuck,” Spencer finalized, throwing his head back onto the wall. “Don’t forget your jacket.” Nova looked up and removed her jacket and shooting a teasing smile to the camera. The elevator opened on to the main floor and the pair scampered out, hurrying to leave the building before anyone caught wind of what just went down in the elevator. Nova doubted it though; there was absolutely no one left in the building. Even the cleaning crew had gone home before Spencer and Nova had. Once the pair reached the parking lot, they realized their cars were parked on opposite sides. Nova didn’t want the night to end, a heavy weight of regret now settling on her chest like a rock. 

“Well, um... I’m this way. Goodnight, Spencer.” Nova turned and started walking to her car after sending a wave in Spencer’s direction.

“Nova! Are you okay?” Spencer called before she could get too far. 

“You’re a profiler, Reid. Figure it out!” Nova finalized with a slight smile on her face, the steaming regret wafting off of her in waves. 

“We’ll discuss it at dinner Saturday night?” 

“Um.. yeah. 7 o’clock sound good?”

“Perfect. See you then, love.” Spencer called, taking three large steps, catching up with Nova and placing a hasty kiss on her cheek. Nova was left in a lurch, wondering how she got into this situation and trying to figure out if there was a way to get out of it. 

[strongerwiththepack]

It Was The Only Way (3/3)

See this is why I don't write multi-chapter fics, I am highly unreliable. Sorry for the extremely long wait for this conclusion guys. This chapter just refused to be wrangled. At least it's done before the end of October so that's something.

This is probably the first fic I've done major editing to. Like there's around 800 words sitting in the document that I cut out/entirely re-wrote and that is not something I do. If I actually manage to get words written, that's what is getting published usually so this was an interesting change.

Pen&Ink Week and Fluffember are fast approaching but I did plot out a few other Whumptober prompts that I'd like to go back to so who knows what'll come out next. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Tw for Strong Language.

Part 1 | Part 2

FF.Net | AO3

Whumptober2020: No.3 My way or the highway

“How could Gordon have been so stupid?” Scott grunted as Virgil flew Thunderbird 2 with them and Kayo to the coordinates.

They thought Gordon had been caught trying to place trackers on the vehicles before they left. The news from John made Scott’s head spin. Gordon had been making a plan to get taken this whole time?

“It was stupid.” Virgil grit his teeth, equally as worried for his usual co-pilot. “But if he hadn’t, we would’ve lost Alan for good.”

“We don’t even know if he’s with Alan.” Scott rubbed his head in frustration. “So much could’ve gone wrong. Can still go wrong.”

“We’ll find them.” Kayo reassured from behind. “Just keep your heads, we’re leading this operation.”

Scott nodded and steeled himself in preparation. What’s done was done, they weren’t going to make the same mistake again.

*

Alan and Gordon eventually moved to sit back against the wall of their little cell. Alan was feeling more than a little embarrassed now that he was down from those torturous chains but Gordon didn’t seem to mind. His older brother kept his arms wrapped around Alan as they got comfy against the wall.

Now that he actually had one of his big brothers here to reassure him, Alan was feeling a lot more clear-headed.

“They got you too, huh?” Alan mumbled eventually.

“Oh, uh yeah.” Gordon grunted. “We were trading to get you back and it, uh, didn’t go well.”

“Sorry.” Alan mumbled.

“Hey, hey.” Gordon prompted rubbing on his arm. “Not your fault, okay kiddo?”

Alan hummed in supposed agreement. He still felt stupid for getting caught.

“The others aren’t going to find us, are they?”

It had been playing through his head from the moment he’d been coherent enough to realise Gordon wasn’t here to rescue him. The chains had been agony and before Gordon had arrived, he’d been sure he was going to die.

He only had vague flashes of Gordon trying to get him down through pain-fogged memories, but the pain had numbed slightly now. Every jostle sent a stab of pain to his shoulders and sides, but it wasn’t the constant agony of before.

It took him a while to realise that Gordon had been captured as well, that he wasn’t getting out of this yet. The fact that his brothers hadn’t been able to find him before made him think it was unlikely they were coming now either.

“They are Alan.” Gordon reassured through his spiralling thoughts. “Don’t worry, I had a plan.”

Alan just nodded into his brothers shoulder. He hoped that was true.

The door banged open making both the boys flinch at the abruptness. The suit-clad man walked in with at least four other men flanking him from the back. He seemed more dishevelled than Alan had yet to see him. There was an expression of fury on his face and a cocked gun in his hand that made Alan tense.

Gordon was on his feet in seconds, blocking Alan’s view as he stepped protectively in front of him. Alan wanted to get up as well, he really did, but his arms were not cooperating, he just didn’t have the energy.

“Time to go boys.” The man snarled. Guns were levelled at them and one of the lackies grabbed Gordon pushing him forward by the shoulder. There wasn’t much his brother could do with 5 guns pointed at them.

“Move it!” The guy shouted at Alan brandishing his gun and Alan was snapped out of his daze.

He tried to get up, but it was slow. Slow enough that one of the men grabbed him by his t-shirt collar and yanked him up off the floor. Alan cried out as pain flared in his shoulder. He stumbled trying to get his feet under him as he heard Gordon shouting from ahead of him.

“Hey!” his brother snarled. “Leave him alone.”

Alan finally managed to stumble along beside the man dragging him and caught Gordon keeling over as he was sucker-punched in the gut.

“Shut up and move it.” The guy holding Gordon shouted before shoving him roughly forward while his brother was still recovering from the abuse.

Alan wanted to defend his brother, but he was barely keeping his legs moving as they were hurried along through a windowless corridor. Why were they in such a hurry? Were they getting rescued? Alan sure hoped so.

They were led up the stairs and into chaos. People were running everywhere, files and papers were being packaged. There was gunfire in the distance. Through a window Alan caught sight of stars in a cloudless night. He really didn’t have any idea what time of day it was, or even what day it was at all for that matter.

They were soon being led out of what he assumed was the back of the building and there was the familiar sound of helicopter rotors. He saw Gordon still at the sight of the vehicle and become more resistant to the pulling arms. Alan felt the same way. He was finally getting rescued and they were about to lose their chance.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from behind them and Alan had never been so thankful to hear his big brother. He was abruptly twisted around and pulled into his captors’ chest. The tip of a gun was placed against his temple and he froze, fearful eyes finally landing on his eldest brother.

Scott’s face was a picture of fury, Virgil stood stoically at his side and Kayo flanked them with a gun of her own. He twisted his head to see Gordon in a similar predicament to himself. Scott was here now, they’d be okay. This is what he’d been waiting for.

“Well Scott.” The man shouted over the whine of the helicopter. “Looks like we’re at another stand-off. That didn’t end quite so well for you last time.”

“You have your money, you have the blueprints. Let them go and we’ll let you leave.” Scott countered.

The man chuckled darkly, a hint of madness in his tone that hadn’t been there before.

“You stupid fucking Tracy’s.” He seethed. “I had everything planned out and you fucking ruined it!”

The man was shouting now and Alan flinched at the volume. Gone was the smooth-talking man from before. He was unravelling and Alan didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. From the tightening of Scott jaw and the fear in Virgil’s eyes he was going to guess the latter.

“Now.” He heard Kayo shout sharply into her comm.

And then there were shots ringing out. Alan felt his captor slump bonelessly into him. He couldn’t catch himself as he fell forward at the abrupt loss of something holding him up and then Gordon was there, dragging him up, slightly awkwardly since his brothers hands were still handcuffed. He grunted at the pain but as shots fired into the ground around them, Alan realised the urgency.

“GDF Snipers.” Gordon supplied hurriedly, apparently reading his confusion. They ran but a shout behind them made them turn.

“Enough!” The leader had apparently run for the helicopter in the commotion, abandoning his hostages in an attempt to escape. He stood at the open door even as the helicopter began to rise. Time stood still for Alan as he watched him raise his gun and take aim, right at him.

The shot rang out with a chorus of laughter and Alan found himself being tackled to the ground. His vision whited out in agony as his shoulder hit the ground awkwardly and his entire abused body was jarred. He lay gasping, trying to orient himself as the weight on-top of him crushed him.

Someone was calling his name but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe enough to reply. And then the weight was no longer there, and he heaved a deep breath before choking as pain spiked at the movement. Scott’s face came into view.

“Hey sprout.” Scott smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re okay, just take slow breaths okay?”

As Alan complied with the instructions his head began to clear. He felt Scott pulling at his t-shirt and saying quietly, panickily. “This is a lot of blood.”

What he heard next made him shoot back to awareness. “It’s Gordon’s.”

That was Virgil. He twisted his head to the side, seeing Gordon laying next to him with Virgil hovering over him. He hastily sat up, gritting his teeth at the pain.

“Gordon!” He sobbed worriedly.

“Alan!” Scott fretted. “Lie down, you’re hurt.”

Alan looked down at himself. There was blood covering his t-shirt. Gordon’s blood. His brother had jumped on top of him. Had been shot for him.

He tried to crawl over to Gordon but his movements were uncoordinated. Adrenaline was leaving him and black spots were forming in front of his eyes. His arms were shaking as the trauma of the last few days caught up to him. All he could focus on was the blood covering his brothers torso as his body finally gave out. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

*

“Alan!” Scott shouted as he watched his little brother collapse, lunging to catch his head and gently lowering it onto the grass.

Scott froze for a second, hands still cushioning his brothers head as he waited for his brain to catch up with him.

“Basic checks Scott.” Virgil barked from where he was working to stabilise Gordon. “Pulse, airways, check for injuries.”

Right. He snapped back to focus. What the hell was he doing?

He lay Alan out flat and worked on auto as he checked his brother over. This was all catching up to him. Seeing his little brothers held at gunpoint. Having to negotiate for their lives with that insane man again.

Thankfully, the GDF had actually backed them up this time. Hearing the shots from the snipers sent fear through him, Alan and Gordon were in the line of fire. As soon as the gunmen started to fall though Scott felt hopeful.

He watched as Gordon dragged Alan to his feet, pulling him forward as they ran. He thought that was it. That they’d done it.

And then he saw the kidnapper take aim. He was too far away. The shot rang out and Gordon tackled Alan to the ground. They didn’t move.

He and Virgil sprinted the rest of the distance to their brothers. Kayo was covering them as they went. He and Virgil gently rolled Gordon off of Alan and the older blonde scrunched his face up in pain. There was a lot of blood.

Scott knelt down next to Alan, his brother was taking panicked gasps and pain was clear in his eyes. Scott reassured even as he pulled up Alan’s blood covered shirt. There was no wound. It’s Gordon’s. Virgil had said from beside him.

Virgil already had gauze in his hand and pressed it against the wound, Gordon cried out at the pressure. Alan had panicked at Gordon’s cry of pain and now here he was, frozen, with an unresponsive Alan. His baby brother that had been missing for days now.

He’d just finished his checks when Kayo was back them. “The GDF are pursuing the leader. We need to get out of here. Can they be moved?”

An outsider would have thought her words uncompassionate, but Scott could hear the tightness, the worry. Kayo coped by keeping her mind on the mission until they were all safe.

“Alan is breathing with a strong pulse, he should be fine until we get to Thunderbird Two.” Scott reported to his more medic-minded brother.

Virgil nodded, packing up his supplies. “Gordon’s not doing great but there not much I can do for him out here.”

“Hey!” Gordon grunted from the ground. “Gordon is doing just fine, let’s just get out of here.”

“Okay fish. This is going to hurt a bit though.” Virgil replied grimly. “You got Alan Scott?”

Scott nodded and easily hoisted an unconscious Alan into his arms, kid was always light but he seemed like skin and bones right now. It just made Scott more eager to get back to Two.

He heard Gordon cry out as Virgil lifted him off the ground and winced even as they quickly made their way back to Thunderbird Two. Kayo flanked them, on guard as always.

Scott deposited Alan gently onto one of the pull-out beds in Two’s medbay and started hooking up every machine he could get his hands on. Once the heart-monitor could be heard steadily beeping and an IV for fluids had been inserted Scott let himself calm down slightly.

He ran his hand though Alan’s hair as he looked over at the other bed. Virgil was frantically rooting though drawers as his ship rumbled around them, Kayo at the controls.

“Can I get a hand Scott?”

Scott only spared a second to assure himself Alan would be fine before he was on his feet. “What do you need?”

“I need to call ahead to the hospital, just keep him talking and watch his vitals.”

He walked round so he could see Gordon’s face at last. His brother gave him a ghost of a smile. “Good thing my guardian angel is an overachiever, huh?”

Clouded by his worry Scott felt some of his previous anger come back. “What were you thinking Gordon?”

Gordon winced. “I was thinking we needed to find Alan.”

“It was stupid.” Scott hissed. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“You got shot!”

Gordon peered over at Alan with sad eyes. “It was worth it…”

Scott found it hard to argue as he glanced at his littlest brother. Alan being missing had been his own personal hell. He can’t deny he would’ve done something equally as stupid as Gordon if this had gone on any longer.

Scott startled as machines starting blaring and whipped his head back just in time to see Gordons eyes roll back into his head. Virgil was suddenly pushing him out the way and Scott could only watch as Virgil started CPR. He could only watch as Gordon’s heart tentatively started beating again. Could only watch as he and Alan were rushed away into the hospital.

*

The first thing that hit Gordon was the familiar anti-bacterial smell that meant he’d gotten himself into some sort of trouble. The scratchy sheets beneath him confirmed that thought. He peeled his eyes open to be met with the stark whiteness of a hospital room.

He blinked the fog away from his brain and shifted on the bed, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain the movement caused. Predictably enough there was a worried older brother leaning over him in seconds.

“Scott?”

“Gordon! How’re you feeling?” When Gordon tried shifting again, his eldest brother lay a hand on his shoulder. “Just lie still Gordon.”

“What happened?”

He was definitely in a hospital and that means it had to have been serious. They’d gotten much better at dealing with injuries on the island over the years. Virgil took every course he could without actually becoming a certified doctor and although no longer practising, their Grandma wasn’t going to be kept at bay when it came to looking after them.

So yeah, over the years they had moved away from the major security risk that was hospitals. If they were in one now, something major had gone down.

“You don’t remember?” Scott asked worriedly

Gordon wracked his brain for the last thing he remembered before realisation overtook him and he shot up.

“Alan!” He was propped up for all of 2 seconds before his arms gave way and he crumpled back into the bed with a groan.

“Hey, hey, take it easy Gordon, you’re hurt.”

“Where’s Alan?” He asked in panic even as he was still recovering from his tumble.

“He’s right over there.” Scott gestured as he moved out of the way so Gordon had a clear view. “And if you don’t calm down, you’re going to wake him up.”

Gordon sighed in relief. Alan, although currently sleeping, looked a lot better than when he’d last seen him. Virgil was also sitting by their littlest brothers side, although his eyes were focused on Gordon.

“He’s fine Gordon.” Virgil’s soft baritone met his ears. “Are you okay?”

Gordon sighed and winced as he felt his injuries. “Yeah.” At the disbelieving looks he added. “Well as okay as someone who got shot can be I guess.”

“You scared us kiddo.” Scott said in that tone that always made Gordon feel guilty.

He sadly looked over to Alan once again. “Yeah I know the feeling. Sorry.”

He’d rarely felt as scared as he had when Alan had been missing.

“Did you catch the guy?”

“Not yet. The GDF are on it though. Kayo’s with them now and John’s lending his usual hand.”

Gordon knotted his fist around the bedsheets.

“It was bad Scott. It was so so bad.”

He would never forget how broken Alan had been when he’d found him. It made tears spring to his eyes as he cursed the unfairness of it all.

“Alan’s going to be okay. He was awake earlier. More worried about you than himself to be honest.” Scott smiled. “He’s definitely got that classic Tracy family gene.”

Gordon smiled as well but sobered quickly.

“He shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

Scott frowned looking over at Alan again. “No, he shouldn’t have.”

Scott’s expression turned pained. “What you did was so unbelievably stupid Gordon, and we will be having an in-depth discussion about it when you’re feeling better.” Scott gave him a pointed look. “But we wouldn’t have found Alan without you.”

Gordon had to choke back tears again.

“You did good Gordo.” Scott said quietly as he gently ran his fingers though Gordon’s hair. “Now get some sleep, we’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Gordon was too tired to argue. He was sure he was still hopped up on a world of drugs so, now knowing his family was safe, sleep came easy.

fin.

[kchuarts]

Flowers in Blood

A/N: This ones a sad one I ain’t gonna hold you on that. Also the ending isn’t very cliffhangery? It will be though. It will be. 

Summary: Sometimes Jonathan Pine needs to be held in return. 

Warnings: GRAPHIC WAR / DEATH SCENE

Taglist: @lucywrites02​, @shiningloki​

Chapter 8: Black Rose 

The crime lord took a drag from his cigarette, puffing out smoke before answering. “I have my ways, you should already know that.” his lips pulled up into a smirk. Roper waved two fingers at one of his guards to bring him a glass of wine. “So I heard you and good ol’ Danny boy have met. Nasty bloke he is.” Roper takes another drag from the stick. 

“I am not here to have idle chat, Roper.” Pine looked behind him, making sure the door was still shut and Katie was hopefully out of ear shot. “Just tell me first how in the hell you managed to crawl out of the hole you hid away in and what you want from me.” His blue eyes kept glancing over to the door, debating if he should let the young woman in his flat that he had to step outside. 

Richard chuckled into the phone, taking a hold of his wine and sipping it. “I’m not going to repeat myself, Pine. You should have heard me the first time.” He took another sip of his expensive beverage before setting it down. “I’ve come to give you a ring and tell you that you’re off the hook. I’ve taken care of what Natalie wants from you within a few hours after your departure. She’s got the biggest of smiles on her face right now because of it too.” A knowing smirk touched his lips again, sinister intentions gleaming in his eyes. 

Pine huffed and opened the door for a moment, holding his phone away from his mouth. “Katie? I’m gonna step out for a smoke for a bit. I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.” Dragging her into the mess known as Richard Roper was one of many things that Jonathan didn’t want to meddle her into. He put the phone back up to his ear, fast walking out of the flat as fast as he could. 

“Katie?” The older man mused, chuckling and pursing his lips as he inhaled from the white stick. “You’ve moved on fast if I’m assuming correctly. I thought you and Jed would have eloped after the stunt you pulled with me, shaming me for a few years.” He flicked the ashes into a tray and frowned at the memory of just a few years back. It was certainly interesting to know that Pine potentially had a new love interest. Roper noted this in the back of his mind and would ask Daniel about this new woman later on. 

Jonathan lit a cigarette of his own, taking a drag before lowering his voice as he was outside. Anger and hot smoke ignited inside the agent's chest at the mention of his past lover. “You should know that the life I lead isn’t meant for time to play romance or settle down. Now tell me what the fuck do you want. I can’t say I’m overly thankful you took care of something I had started planning ideas for.” He took another drag, eyes scanning the crowd for any onlookers that could be eavesdropping. 

“Bollocks! Come off it, Pine I know you better than that. You certainly didn’t have your finalized plan of shutting Poppy down within a fortnight, so I went ahead and took care of it for you!” Richard leaned back in his seat, staring out of his villa balcony. Like he had said, Roper had his ways of working his way back into the land of crime and managed to get his private island home back. “I’m not trying to kiss ass and earn points with you, I’m playing devil’s advocate at the moment. I did it because you have bigger problems ahead of you and Daniel was tired of waiting around for Natalie and her drug addicted squabble to actually do something. You can certainly cross Poppy off your list now because Bloodroot is now taking over.” He clicked his tongue and reached over to grab a file, “Sometimes I wonder about these Americans and their tenacity to get the job done. Feisty ones they are, I’m sure you understand just as much as I do.” He hinted at Jed once again, still sour over that whole debacle. “Oh and you needn’t worry about Natalie’s boys watching you anymore, in fact you should be more worried if Belladonna could be creeping nearby. Luckily for you, I haven’t called any of my men to keep tabs on you… Yet.” 

The Crime Lord’s slight cryptic speak was beginning to drive Jonathan crazy and he just wanted to hang up right then and there. However, if what Roper said was true then this meant he could return the call to Angela and find out what she dug up on that thumbdrive and note. “I can only wonder when that will be.” He hissed, exhaling smoke and flicking the ashes. “So you only called me just to tell me that you handled my situation but that you’re also in cahoots with Belladonna’s leader? Brilliant. What a waste of my time. Next time you even think about calling me, be sure that I don’t have your number being tracked resulting in putting you away for good.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up, jaw clenched tightly. Pine knew DAMN well that Roper was up to something more nefarious than he led on. It wasn’t out of the kindness of his own cold heart that he’d do Pine a favor after what he did to him. He wanted something and whatever that something was wouldn’t be good. 

“Well?” Daniel narrowed his gaze at Roper sitting across from him. 

Richard gave a knowing smirk and nodded, “He’s suspicious but I think he took the bait.” He reached for his wine and leaned back again, sipping it. “Now we just wait for when that stupid woman sends him off to South Korea or Japan. Bloodroot is currently enroute to Tokyo?” 

The Greek man nodded, his arms folded across his chest. “They are to meet up with Wisteria and possibly Daphne if The Tigress decides to get off her lazy ass and make the trip. From there, they will be discussing new trade routes and deals now that Poppy has been taken care of.” Daniel sneered at his former English branch. 

“What of your sister? The Wolfsbane branch?” Roper raised a brow, curious as Abbadon’s area was not brought up. For as long as Richard had known the siblings, he rather liked the younger sister as she was quick and took no shit. He thought that she was better suited to be leader of Belladonna instead of her aggressive older brother. Daniel was too brash and never thought of how his decisions would impact his business after he leapt. It worked out eventually but with too many mistakes and messes. 

Amber eyes gleamed with dark fury, “What about my traitorous sister? Of course Wolfsbane is out of the question.” Daniel scoffed and gave a slight snarl. “Because of her little performance in Moscow and now with Poppy gone, we have to work even harder with just four instead of six branches.” His eye twitched from irritation. The night of the gala still infuriated Daniel as he had blindly put his trust into his sister and was played right into her trap. She knew Pine would be there and had been hiding her desire to break free of the family business until then. That is the reason why her son, Nikolai, was locked away in a cage in an unknown location in order to keep tabs on her. However, this did not appear to be enough and so Daniel decided that having two big branches was useless. “So do you have anything else to tell me, Richard?” He exhaled hotly and raised his brows. “Anything that may perhaps calm my rage? News of successful weapon sales? New whores shipped from Seoul? Pine’s new partner?” A sick smirk cracked across his tanned lips. 

“Oh.” Roper inwardly rolled his eyes at Daniel’s insatiable thirst for a perfect harem. Sure, Richard enjoyed a woman’s company from time to time but, Daniel was rather disgustingly obsessed with it. He even saw first hand that his respect of women was zero to none, hence why his wives were covered in bruises. “Well yes, I believe he mentioned her name was Katie? Don’t you have… Twelve wives already?” He raised a brow but would rather not hear the details. 

Daniel got up and clapped his hands, beaming pervertedly. “I much prefer that over Natasha. That was her little nickname back in Moscow. Mmm “Katie” yes I do enjoy that.” He frowned slightly at Roper as he heard the hint of disgust in his ally’s voice. “Thirteen is just another number, no? I have collected wives from all over! Egypt, Germany, Canada, Thailand, Japan, Korea, China, Russia, Spain, Africa, France, Australia… I need an all American girl to carry on with my little theme I have going on.” His smirk returned and a very obvious erection stood out. “Now, when you hear news of their fated arrival to the land of the rising sun, let me know and I will discuss plans to lure them to the den of The Tigress. She may be a lazy bitch, but she knows what she does and performs it well. Oh and Roper-” He turned around, smirk gone again. “Do not let me regret bailing you out or it is your head I will take as payment.” 

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

Police sirens blared as several cars pulled up to the abandoned warehouse out in the woods. Angela stepped out of one of the cars as she had been informed that this crime was another piece to her case. “Jesus H. Christ-” She muttered, covering her mouth with her sweater sleeve upon seeing the blood bath. 

The entirety of Poppy were currently being dressed in body bags as just hours ago, they had been slaughtered brutally. Natalie Baylor’s appearance was by the far the worst with her eyes gouged out and her mouth split from ear to ear. On each member of the drug organization there had been a Belladonna flower carved into their forearms complete with a small bouquet of the said plant. What was more gruesome was that many of the members, Natalie included, had the equally toxic berries stuffed into their mouths by the handful. 

“So I’m gonna assume this is the higher ups. God save the Queen, they’re going after their own crew.” Angela pondered, walking carefully around the corpses. Natalie’s clenched fist particularly caught the Director’s attention and she asked for a pair of gloves to inspect the late woman’s body. “Thank you dear” She took the gloves from a paramedic and slipped them on, carefully opening the stiffened hand. It had been around four hours since the discovery of the murders, so rigor mortis had already settled in. Much to Angela’s lack of surprise, there was indeed something held. The older woman removed the paper and frowned in concentration, waving a police officer away as they tried to escort her off. “I’m part of this investigation, Angela Burr? Haven’t you heard of me?” She shook her head as the officer gave her a bit of an attitude. “Bugger off.” She cursed under her breath before returning to the strange piece of parchment. What she read made her blood run cold. 

Considering that you’ll be the first here, my dear Angela, I dedicate this work of art to you. The higher ups of Belladonna have so graciously allowed me to walk a “free man” once more. All I had to do was take care of these spineless oafs for them so that your dogs could continue to sniff their way along the investigation. Take this as a warning that I am watching and should you reveal anything that this note contains, the same could happen to you. I’d like to think of this as a little game and see how long it takes before someone slips. Have a lovely evening, my dear. 

-An old friend  

It was wrong of her to do, but Angela quickly shoved the piece of evidence in her pocket and growled. She knew exactly who this was and was not happy in the slightest, “Roper.” 

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

The moment Jonathan stepped back inside, Katie was already in bed and sound asleep, snuggled into the sheets. Pine couldn’t help but think of how adorable the brunette looked all tucked in and cozy. He sighed deeply, figuring that now with Roper’s odd involvement it would be safe to give his boss a ring. It still puzzled Pine though with Richard suddenly appearing out of the blue and giving them some leeway. There had to be more than just this, Jonathan was certain that Roper wanted something, he would just have to find out as soon as he could. Shaking his head, Jonathan makes his way to the bathroom and tends to his nightly needs before making his way to bed. He would think more on the case tomorrow morning with a more clear and concise mind. Carefully, he peels back his sheets and slips into them without waking Katie up. Thankfully, the young woman seems to be a rather heavy sleeper as Jonathan’s arms wrapping around her body does not seem to disturb her. Pine was more than happy to have Katie in his arms and would never turn something like this down as her body molded perfectly to his. Leaning over, he turned the lamp off and adjusted his position. With the soft patter of rain hitting the window, soothing darkness, Katie’s warm body, and lovely scent; Jonathan found himself asleep within minutes. 

-flash- 

“GO! GO! GO!!” The sergeant of Pine’s squad screamed as the Taliban were firing at them. 

A younger Jonathan frantically looked around, the sound of gunfire ringing in his ears for a moment. “CAM!? CAM WHERE ARE YOU!?” He screamed for his friend, hiding behind a bullet ridden wall for cover as a pipe bomb blew. Cries of pain from his companions had suddenly become louder than the explosions and rain of fire. He was not about to leave his best friend behind to die. “CAMERON!?” Pine threw himself from out of his hiding place, only to be forced to army crawl as bullets from each side whizzed above him. He had to hold back a scream as a child soldier fell dead right in his eyesight. Anything that he had eaten that day made its way up and covered Jonathan’s front as a reaction to seeing this innocent child fall victim to war. There was no time to stop as Pine continued to army crawl, using the dust from the area as coverage. 

“Pine-” A voice moaned out hoarsely. 

What Jonathan saw next made his stomach drop. Cameron was tied to a post with a large handmade timer bomb stabbed into his hands. “N-No, Cam.” He felt breathless as he quickly made his way to his dying friend. Almost immediately, he tried to undo the ropes securing Cameron, struggling as his vision was blurred from dust and smoke. 

The brunette man gave a bloody smile to his best friend and laughed weakly. “Hey i-it’s ok. I’m gonna be ok, Jonathan.” He coughed, shutting his eyes and continued to smile through the pain. 

Jonathan began to cry hard, tears trailing down his dirt ridden face. “No! I won’t let you die!! I’m gonna get you out of here and, and patched up. Your sister is waiting for you, Cam!! I won’t allow you to die!!” His bruised fingers ripped away at the bindings as fast as they could. “I know that your parents give two shits less about you, but your sister needs you!! Katie needs you!!” He sobbed, seeing he only had less than two minutes left. If only he hadn’t gotten into a stupid argument with Cameron over a week ago, none of this would have happened. Cameron wouldn’t have stormed out for a smoke, wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped, wouldn’t have gotten beaten, and wouldn’t have to die. Deep down, Jonathan knew it was too late to save his best friend but his frantic state wouldn’t allow him to see the truth before him. 

Cameron shook his head slightly, “It’s too late. M-My legs.” He coughed, nodding down to them. He saw Jonathan’s blue gaze look at his gored limbs in horror. The terrorist group had practically severed them off down to the bone and even a bit through it. To make matters even more painful, his achilles tendons had been ripped out. 

01:00 

00:59 

“NO!! I CAN’T!!” Jonathan breathed harder and growled as he fought a losing battle in order to save his friend. 

“JONATHAN PINE!!” Cameron shouted, getting his attention. His bright green eyes shimmered in the ray of sunshine that tore through the clouds of war. “Go. I’m dying for m-my country. I need you to run. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back. Please. Live on for me and if you ever meet little fox, make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble.” A tear slid down his bruised face as the bomb was down to thirty seconds. “GO!!” He wailed at Jonathan, watching his friend get up with remorse and look at him one last time before taking off. Cameron shut his eyes, smiling and waiting for death to take him. “Thank you, for everything.” 

BOOM!

-flash- 

A young girl with brilliant green eyes stands before him. “My name is extremely Irish, it’s corny I know. I’m Katie O’Connor” 

His heart stopped as soon as she spoke her name. So he wasn’t dreaming after all when Angela said that a “Katelyn O’Connor” would be accompanying him. This was her; Cameron’s little sister. Little Fox. 

-flash-

“JONATHAN!! JONATHAN HELP ME!! I DON’T WANNA DIE!!” Now it was Katie strapped to a pole instead of Cameron. 

Jonathan shot up, gasping for air. His hands shook as he looked at them in the moonlight. The clock read 3AM once he glanced over to see how much sleep he had gotten. 

“Pine?” Katie spoke softly, adjusting her position so that she was facing him. Around 2:30AM, Katie had been woken up by sounds of whimpering and slight thrashing from the man next to her. She had tried to wake him up, but with no success. Her brother’s name kept slipping from Pine’s lips in a panic and he even broke out into a full on sob. What had he truly seen that day? 

The dark blonde haired man froze up at the sound of her voice and turned to face her, swallowing to soothe his dry throat. “Did I wake you? I-I apologize for whatever you may have heard.” He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. It had been a while since he last dreamt of that day. How horrific war truly was and how unnecessary that mankind craved it as a means of justification. His brows knit together as he felt Katie pull him down slowly. He felt her arms wrap around him as she pulled him close to her, laying his head upon her chest. The sound of her heartbeat made Jonathan wrap his arms around her in return and start to sob into her chest. His body shook as he cried softly, not holding back his emotions. 

“I forgive you… About Cameron. It wasn’t your fault.” She whispered into his short blonde locks, her fingers gently massaging his scalp. “We still have a long way to go before I completely forgive you, but I understand now that you tried to save my brother.” She shut her eyes, feeling tears of her own burn them. One witness to Pine’s nightmares of past war was enough for Katie to forgive and let go of her false grudge against Jonathan. A sort of peace had come over her upon her words and a soft smile graced her lips to know that Cameron wasn’t in pain and that he died heroically. Katie held Jonathan a bit closer that night, with both of them succumbing to sleep shortly once more. They had a big future ahead of them in taking down Belladonna, but they would do it together as she needed him and he needed her.

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 154

Every single part of you was screaming that this was the beginning of the end. The beginning of something terrible. Bruce couldn’t even look at you. JARVIS had been machining some sort of temporary housing for… whatever the hell had been inside that scepter compartment. And Tony had remained as distant as possible as he ran cleanup and made sure everyone stayed clear of the labs. Little accident he’d said, and promised everything was okay. You’d been relegated to sitting on a stool, holding a cloth against your nose to stem the flow of blood. Eventually the leak stopped. 

Just as Tony stepped back in and closed the doors behind him. He stayed there, facing away, gathering himself. You allowed him a moment. Mostly because you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to hear what he had to say. But when he was finished, he walked down the steps. “Before we start...” Very promising, for sure. “Can you just try to walk me through what you were doing?” 

With the scepter, he meant. Obviously. “I don’t know.” As honestly as you could. Even if the answer was unsatisfying. “I don’t wanna say something like it was calling to me but I guess it was something close.” And you’d answered whether you’d wanted to or not. And you really hadn’t. But that didn’t matter much now. 

Bruce and Tony shared a look between each other. Telling. But then Bruce looked away, leaving Tony to figure out how he was going to say whatever it was he was going to say. And the longer he waited the more anxious you became. Until eventually he admitted- “I actually don’t know where to start.” It was very strange to see Tony so out of sorts. Struggling like this. 

“Just tell me what’s going on.” Trying and failing to not get agitated. But his anxieties were working your own up. You didn’t like this. Whatever this was. “...please.” 

He looked at you. Very, very briefly. But his eyes dropped after a few seconds. Guilt was wracking his entire being. Standing a little closer to Bruce, he pulled something up on one of the screens and then directed it into the air. Graphs. Data. Equations. With your name on them. You didn’t know what you were looking at. So you waited as patiently as possible for him to figure out how to talk. 

And once he did, there was no going back.

“I don’t know how to quantify your powers. I never have. It’s not something that seems like I can break down no matter how much science I apply to it. But this-” He waved a hand over what you were starting to realize was a graph of dates. “-this I thought I could try to make sense out of. They’re- …” He sighed. Frustrated. “You have a unique gamma signature.” 

He’d begun pacing around the room in slow, calculated movements. One step after the other. You stayed seated but watched him, and wrung your hands tightly together in your lap. Waiting more until he spoke again. “When you do whatever it is you do, you signal that pulse. It’s not radiation- you’re not leaking anything- at least not anything dangerous- it’s more like an identifier. I tried tests on Steve and he comes out clean. Thor does, too. And Bruce-” The two looked at each other again. “You’d think- at least I did- considering the accident had everything to do with gamma- that he’d be a little more similar. But he’s not.

I wanted more time- to figure this out- to make it make sense. No one has a signature like yours, but…” 

This was all too much to take in. You didn’t know how to begin to think about any of this. Tony had been running tests? No. Not just Tony. Your gaze shifted over. “You’ve been working with him on this.” Tony had kept this from you but had been working with Bruce. Something familiar pinged you. A friendly face standing over your bedside as you’d just come out of a battle with Extremis.

What are you doing?

Checking your levels. Most of it is out of your system by now, I was just making sure things are on the straight and narrow.

He looked at you and then dropped his head again. “Yeah, well… I suppose I was the leading expert on gamma radiation at the time.” 

They’re hoping I can track it. This thing is throwing out gamma radiation. Might be why they’re looking into this Banner guy.

What had brought them together in the first place. You felt yourself going a little numb- and dizzy- as the wheels started spinning. Tony was talking again. “Up until very recently, your signature was totally unique.” Shifting his hand flat across the air as he said this. He then pulled something else off one of the screens. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, to be precise. “Until them.” 

Bruce startled you when he followed up, “The signatures aren’t the same, but they have the same sort of frequency- theirs are a little more on the loud side- they’re just starting out I think. You’re becoming more nuanced-” 

I wasn’t sure where you two were vacationing... 

That’s how they’d found the scepter. Bruce had tracked them and almost mistakenly thought it was you. And that wasn’t the first time either. Events were slamming your memory. They’d broken the dam. 

Gravitational anomaly has subsided, sir. I’m tracking the flux of gamma radiation now. JARVIS, where is Ms. INY?

That time they’d been tracking that thing- the problem Thor had dragged to earth- 

Your feet found you first and you held a hand up to signal that you in no way wanted either of them to come close to you. The feeling of wanting to press yourself into the corner- or maybe run for the door- was suddenly very strong. “Who else knows about this?” How long was the list of people that knew something so intimate about you- 

“SHIELD knew.” Tony saying this was like delivering a blow to your gut. “It’s how they tracked you.” 

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out of you as you reached out to put one hand on the nearest table to brace yourself. Something you’d been doing a lot recently. SHIELD knew. Nick knew. “How?” 

“They came right after the incident with your professor-” Tony tried to answer.

But you cut him off. “No- how- only you have been working on this gamma signature stuff right? So how...” 

You were unwinding very quickly. It wasn’t clicking just yet. Tony seemed stuck. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Bruce’s voice filled the room. “As much as we’ve hypothesized… the only thing that seems to make sense is that the Tesseract was in friendly hands since 1946. The Maximoff’s signatures are close to the scepter, but not quite. And yours are… close but not quite. We’re not sure yet what links them. But they’re the only signatures like it on earth.”

Earlier today- I’ve been thinking about it- you said Banner and I already found the scepter once. Were you thinking of the Tesseract?

He hadn’t been worried about your brain being muddled that day- he’d been worrying that he’d gotten caught. Even though Bruce was the last to speak, you were looking at Tony. “Are you sure about this?” 

You wanted him to tell you no. That he wasn’t sure about anything. And they weren’t, really, right? That’s why they’d been hiding it? Tony wanted more time to do the math- that’s the gist of what he’d said- but- but- “They have redacted files on a girl.” He pulled this onto holodisplay, too. Tone empty. Body full of regret that you had no time for right now. 

Redacted was an understatement. It was basically twenty pages all blacked out except for a single paragraph about the Tesseract- a subject number- a subject gender- and a date- 1990. 

“Running theory… either she was another experiment. ...or she was you. In case of the former, we think whatever they were doing with her… it had something to do with whatever they did to you. And their lead researcher died not too long after their trail went cold on you. Which wouldn’t matter anyway- their research was extremely limited. And their methods were lacking. Which might explain why they lost sight of you. Until- ...well.” Well was right. Because if that was even a little bit true, Tony outing himself might have been the reason SHIELD had picked you back up. 

 Bruce’s voice piped back in and there was a little bit of frantic energy that seemed to be bouncing between the two of them. He started speaking very rapidly, pointing at some of their research, moving it around as he did. Almost like he was hosting a lecture. Like you were some animal in a fucking zoo. “Biologically speaking, you’ve only just started peaking- your cell cycle is unlike anything we’ve ever seen and the senescence is slowing. But every time you get in contact with one of the theorized originating power sources there’s a biological shift. And stressors in your environment have been having a huge impact, too. You’re almost like a walking case study on the man-made Super Serum vs an alien environmental stew. We’ve actually been able to expand quite a lot on the-”

 “Is this fun for you?” You didn’t recognize the utterly angry tone of your voice, especially not when it was addressed towards either of them. You loved these men, truly. But they were talking at each other- about you- you just couldn’t take it anymore. “Is my life a fun little project for you guys?” This was… this was too much for you.

 Who were these people? You were entirely sure you had no idea anymore.

 You’d stopped them both cold. The feeling nearly dragging them to the floor was something beyond guilt at this point. They felt terrible. Maybe they were only now waking up to what they’d been doing- or who they’d been doing it to. Who could say?

You know the chances of them trying to turn you into a science experiment are fairly high, right? So what happened to you? Some sort of experiment gone wrong?

Were you a lab experiment? SHIELD? Or someone else? Because really, it’s remarkable. Your powers. Tell me. Where did they come from? Some  experiment gone awry?

Just uh- real quick… you weren’t- you don’t remember being tested on in a grungy government lab or anything, right?

Voices were assaulting you. Good god… how long had this been staring you in the face? “So what-” You spit this out as another hot flash of anger took a much easier hold in place of shock that had worn you out. “For years you thought I was some- what- some freak SHIELD lab accident powered by some alien source and you were never going to tell me?” You went a little weak after letting all of that out, denial easy. “No. No. I wasn’t- I’d remember that-” 

You hadn’t grown up in a lab. You’d had parents. You- Tony finally was staring at you. “We never talk about your past.” 

Your hand waved very dismissively at him. “That doesn’t mean anything- this can’t be right-” You remembered your parents. You also remembered them dying. You remembered that pain. And… in between there and college- 

...why couldn’t you remember anymore? 

“Maybe it’s not. We don’t have all the data.” Tony was an arm’s length away. And every part of him was screaming that he needed to reach out and find you. So loud you could hear it. Because you were drifting away from him. Rightfully so. “And I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make sure SHIELD was convinced otherwise, too.” The way he said this was so weird. Like he was admitting that guilt as much as he was trying to take praise for protecting you from something you didn’t even know about. 

...you really wished he hadn’t said that. And you wished you hadn’t seen the quick drop of his eyes to the Reactor glowing on your chest, and then pulling away in the next second.

It was to prove Fury wrong, more than anything. Bring the Reactor. Let me take a quick run through of your suit, then. Put it on. And… don’t take it off until we’re debriefed. Promise me. You didn’t take the Reactor. Where’s yours? In a drawer somewhere?

You fixed the suits? - Yours first. I… had a deal. With Fury. Before any of this. If he wanted us to keep working for him, he had to purge all mentions of that stuff. You worry about me- and I’ll worry about you.

Every time Tony had prioritized your suit over his- or worried why you weren’t wearing your Reactor- or made some necessary upgrade to it- or- 

“This?” Asking him very meekly as you reached up and took it off your chest. “You’ve been- what- hiding my signature- with this?” Something else even more terrible hit you next. 

Tell me, how did you find her? Oh? Tell me about that. Very interesting. Very interesting.

“Oh god- Kilgrave knew about this before I did?” You really were five seconds from a full on meltdown.

Hey… what was the reason you showed up at that place in Brooklyn anyway? I’m assuming following some lead- neighbors heard screaming or something- saw me in a window? He just told me to go. The longer time passes the more I’m losing on the event, but- you know Tony. I’m sure he had drones out all over the city. Probably was a noise complaint he caught on a police scanner. He was taking any lead he could get at that point.

Kilgrave had known more about you than you knew about you. And Bruce had lied right to your face. How was that okay? How was that right? You just barely noticed Tony’s head turning up, directing a very sharp look at Bruce. Oh good. So at least you weren’t the only one not in the loop. Not the only one being lied to all the time. Apparently Tony didn’t know that either. But he knew just enough to put the pieces together finally. 

You were pretty sure you were going to be sick. This was too much to take in. You didn’t want any part of it, really. It was unfair- and- … “You’ve been hiding this from me this whole time?” Asking the both of them, but really just Tony. Because the both of you had promised each other a very long time ago not to do this. “Why couldn’t you- why didn’t you ever say anything? Were you never planning on telling me?” 

It was more shame now, but still the guilt was heavy too. So much so that it covered that warm light you used to know. He just felt… cold now. “I wanted to figure it out for you. I wanted to be able to give this to you with all the answers. I didn’t- ...I wasn’t hiding it because you were a science project- if that’s what you think- I just wanted to be sure. The last thing I wanted to do was scare you and have nothing to show for it.” 

“So what’s happening right now.” Tears had started falling. Maybe you’d been crying the whole time. It was hard to tell anymore. 

His eyes lowered. “Yeah. What’s happening right now.” 

The worst part about this was you believed him. This wasn’t some malicious stunt designed to hurt you. He hadn’t been gleefully keeping this from you because you fascinated him. Science project- ...no that wasn’t what you thought at all. You understood that all of this had been to protect you. He’d been working so hard on doing that. For years now- 

And you’d had no idea. Which was why it wasn’t okay. 

“You lied to me.” A lie of omission was still a fucking lie. “You knew more about me than I knew about me. How is that fair, Tony?” 

For a sliver of time, you almost wanted him to fight back. So that you could release some of this awfulness. But resignation held him deeply. “It’s not.” You couldn’t be here anymore. You couldn’t stand to look at him right now. It was that thought that had you turning away, and pain crackled through you as he snapped out to grab you. “Honey-” Not physical pain.

 Just every other pain imaginable.

As carefully as you could manage, so as to not devolve further, you took a breath and then leveled your eyes with him. You weren’t sure you had enough bravery in you to make the request that you did, “Let me go.” Somehow you managed. And stood still while he held on to you. While he cracked at the edges and felt the flutter of panic from him. The realization that he’d created a problem he might not be able to fix now. ...one that was detrimental to the both of you. You were suddenly mirroring each other’s heartbreak. But finally he released you, hands up flat in a sign of defeat, and you shuffled away, feeling like you were dropping pieces of you with every step. Barely pieced together rag doll that you now knew you were- stuffing falling out now that you’d been ripped open. At the door you hesitated. And still didn’t look at either of them as you asked again, “Who else knows about this?” 

The entire team? The entire fucking world, perhaps? Everyone except you knew you were some lab accident involving some alien tech? 

Tony’s answer didn’t make you feel any better. “Fury had some idea. I don’t know how much. Not the whole picture, at least. A lot of your files were redacted- ...even before I got to them. ...besides him, it’s just me and Bruce.” 

You really had to gather yourself together to not just crumble right there. “I need some time. I need… I need time to think about all this.” You didn’t wait around long after saying that, pulling the door open and closing it carefully behind you. Your march up to the penthouse was long and arduous, and you felt yourself floating further and further away. You caught sight of yourself in the bedroom mirror. 

What even were you? Would you ever know? ...did you want to? 

You collapsed onto the bed and curled up on your side, not knowing what to do. What to feel. What to think. So it was nice… when it all just sort of went away. You weren’t there, really. You just- 

“Ms. INY…” JARVIS unfairly yanked you back to a place you didn’t want to be. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

The stupidest question of the night came out of your mouth. “Did you know about this, JARVIS?” Of course he did. Tony had been working on this. That meant JARVIS was involved in every possible way. But you just sort of wanted one last confirmation of betrayal. 

Even if he was a program. And he couldn’t do that. 

“...yes, ma’am. I knew.” 

No. JARVIS couldn’t do that. But Tony could. Tony ordered his silence. Just like he’d done the same to Bruce, you were sure. Maybe he never would have told you. Maybe he never would have figured this out- he still hadn’t- and just never said anything to you for the rest of forever. 

A part of you wished that had been the case.

You curled into a tighter ball. “Please just leave me alone, JARVIS.” 

“...I understand, ma’am.” 

You didn’t want to do what you did next. But it was inevitable. Yet even sobbing didn’t even bring much relief. 

                                                               –

 Tony’s legs gave out as soon as that door closed behind her. She’d sapped the rest of his energy. Had taken a huge chunk of him with her- and she didn’t even want it. He was lucky to find a chair right beneath him, but maybe the floor would have been better.

 Inching forward as his spine bent, he put his head in his hands, gaze downward but wholly unseeing. His brain was chugging so loud he thought his eardrums might explode. What are you going to do now?What should you do now?How will you fix this?What if it can’t be fixed?This is what you deserve.You should have come clean.You hurt her.You promised never to do that.What if she leaves?What about Ultron?The clock is ticking.Time is running out.What about her?What about her?They’re coming.What about her?

 “Tony-” Bruce had a hand on his shoulder and Tony shot back, sitting straight up as he put a hand heavy on his chest, rubbing, itching, scratching- while he felt his heart thudding a painful disconnected rhythm- his other arm swept out, knocking Bruce off him, something about the touch overwhelming his senses and sending him into overdrive.

 He couldn’t breathe. “I just- I need a minute-” He needed a minute. And she needed time. Panic had a hard hold of him. His vision tunneled.

 They’recomingthey’recoming whataboutUltron whatabouther whatifsheleaves youdon’tdeserveher whataboutULTRON myfaultmyfaultmyfault

 “Easy, Tony- come on-”

 He was going to lose her. The earth was going to lose something greater. Which point came first?

 He needed her. He needed her right now. He was being sucked into a vacuum of space he wasn’t sure he could pull out of. Not without her help. Her guidance. Her love. But he’d shattered her trust. He’d hurt her- What if she never came back? Bruce’s voice warbled beyond his comprehension as his thoughts circled the drain.

Somethingiscoming Somethingiscoming

 Time was running out. Tony couldn’t breathe. Maybe worst of all, he couldn’t think.

How was he supposed to fix a problem like this? What would happen if he couldn’t?

[dwaynepride]

It Will Rain

Summary: Pride can’t wait anymore. If he doesn’t spill his guts, he may lose you forever.

Words: 3,602

Warnings: None

Tags: @6adb0y @thegoodlonelydalek @consultingdoctorwholock @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

Notes: title comes from this song and while this fic isn’t based off of it, i think it really fits uwuwu

The sky is turning dark red as Pride stands in the courtyard, watching the NOPD officers take his suspect to holding. He regrets sending him off to a cell for the night without getting much out during interrogation. While Pride knows damn well that this investigation is far from over, he hates sees that smug smile of a man being taken away from federal custody.

For now, at least.

He gives a cross huff, head shaking while Pride turns and makes his way toward the kitchen. There’s not much they could do tonight. It’s basically a waiting game of Sebastian finding some forensic evidence, or maybe they can get a witness to talk. Some kind of leverage to coerce a confession.

But waiting was harder than the case itself. Pride thought himself a patient man, but waiting around for results and testimonies was one of his least-favourite parts of the process.

Pride is still stuck in his own head as he enters the kitchen, finding it difficult to put the case behind him for the night. Maybe he’ll go to the bar and work on something that isn’t a murder. Or take Loretta up on her offer of having dinner with her and the boys. Or maybe...

“Hey, Pride!”

His attention snaps back to reality instantly, eyes rising to the source of the greeting. Pride genuinely thought he was the only one here. He heard something about Christopher and Gregorio going out for the night, and just assumed you were going with them. And yet, here you are, in his kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee.

Even though it’s really getting late. “Hey,” he greets lightly, hands in his pockets as he approaches. “What’re you still doing here? I thought you’d be out with the others.”

You just give him a shrug, looking down to mix some sugar in the coffee. “I was gonna, but there’s a couple things I wanted to do tonight. Get a headstart for tomorrow, you know?”

Pride gives a light amused huff as he finally reaches you. “You’d rather be hangin’ around here instead of out having fun?” He asks, a teasing tone edging his voice. And it makes you smile. Pride couldn’t even remember being frustrated about the interrogation.

“Who says I can’t have fun with you?” Your eyes raise, meeting his, reflecting each others smiles. As if the whole day hasn’t been slow and aggravating and maybe there can be a good ending to it. Pride was suddenly glad that you decided to stick around; he needed a good dose of peace that came with being alone with you.

His head dips in concession, as if he would ever argue against your wishes. “Alright, well, at least lemme make you something. I’m sure you haven’t eaten much today,” Pride says, skirting around you to the fridge. There wasn’t too much here, unfortunately. He can probably whip up some sandwiches.

“You don’t have to, Pride. Coffee’s fine-”

“Nope, I don’t wanna hear it. You’ll work better with some food in you.”

You sigh. You glare at him. But eventually, you dip your head and slide into one of the bar stools, clutching the cup of coffee. And Pride sets off to prepare your food. As if your presence wasn’t calming enough, just being able to slow down and work in his kitchen is just what he needed. Preparing some food, even if it is as simple as a couple sandwiches.

As peaceful as the moment is, Pride can’t shake off a certain feeling of tenseness. Like a rubber band pulled taut. He knows some of it is due to your staring at him in silence, finger tapping against your mug. Pride can feel your eyes on him, and it makes his heart beat just a little faster. But the tense air has always been there, lingering in the background when you and him had time alone, like this. Or even when the others are around. As if there’s something he should be doing, and you’re both aware that he’s not.

Pride clears his throat involuntarily, trying to pull his focus away from his own churning thoughts. They’re gonna ruin this precious little moment. “Ya know, after this case is over, I really think you outta go out. Have some fun with the others,” Pride speaks up, his eyes darting up to yours. “You deserve it.”

You blink at him. Give a little smile than forces him to reflect one of his own. “I might. If you come with us.”

“Come with you?”

“Yeah! You usually like music and drinks and hanging out.”

Pride lets out a shy little scoff, shrugging his shoulders: at the bar, sure. But he can’t remember the last time he actually went out for the fun of it. “I dunno. I think you’d have more fun with Christopher and the others,” Pride replies. Did he sound self-deprecating? That wasn’t his intention.

You didn’t seem to think so. In fact, you didn’t look at all bothered by the light rejection. “Alright, maybe we could go out,” you offer. Instantly, his blood cools, and Pride’s head jerks up in surprise.

Go out?

His reaction causes you to backpedal, eyes averting in embarrassment. “I meant, you know, to the bar. Just for some drinks or something. You deserve some time off, as well.”

Even though you changed your tune - the words technically meaning it would be two friends getting some drinks together - Pride had a feeling that it wasn’t so black and white. He’d be foolish to pretend he hasn’t put serious thought into whether he should risk crossing the line with you. Dating a fellow agent: it was messy stuff, and honestly, Pride was more afraid of ruining a friendship than he was about whatever protocols you two would surely break.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to. Didn’t stop you from wanting him to take the first step.

Pride scares himself with how close he is to saying yes.

Instead, his eyes fall down to the sandwiches, finishing them up by topping them with a slice of bread. “Uh, food’s done,” he says. Pride hates to ignore the topic, like he did. To completely sweep it under the rug; he was the type to face things head on. But was this the right time to do that?

He hears you stand from the stool, and Pride assumes you’re coming to get the sandwich. Maybe the two of you can still have this time alone at the office. It’ll be like it always is.

Instead, you back up toward the archway of the kitchen. And when Pride looks back up, your eyes are down. Shoulders slouched. His gut is instantly tight at the look on your face. “Actually, uh, I’m kinda tired. I think I should head home.”

Pride can’t help but frown. “Head home. You sure?” He asks, coming around the island to get closer.

But you’re careful to keep your distance. Smiling tightly to try and play off the hurt you’re surely feeling. The hurt he caused. “Yeah, I actually have to get up early in the morning. There’s something I have to do before coming in.”

You say nothing more after that. Pride watches silently from the archway as you grab your coat and head out the door. His stomach is now too tight to even think about eating. And he reckons sleep won’t come easy; he’ll be replaying this encounter over and over in his head, scolding himself, but for what? Being cold? Or cowardly?

Either way, Pride hates himself for hurting you. And goes about cleaning up the kitchen with a heavy heart.

--

The next day was about as chaotic as Pride predicted it would be. True to your word, you didn’t show up until a little later in the day before getting caught up in the case. Pride could only recall speaking to you once, and that was over the phone.

As much as the distance was making the day no better, he supposed it’s for the best. What if he said something else to hurt your feelings? Or maybe you just didn’t want to see him? That second possibility hurt to think about - he knows you probably wanted more out of last night. Hell, he wanted it, too.

Pride runs his fingers through his hair with a harsh sigh, squinting his eyes down at the papers strewn out across his desk.

Now just wasn’t the time to be jumping into relationships - that’s all.

Commotion from the door has Pride lifting his gaze from the papers. Sebastian and Gregorio came walking through with slackened shoulders and dragging feet; it’s been a long day. He can tell they were ready to go home. “Any luck with eye witnesses?” Pride asks, though he probably already knows the answer.

“No,” Tammy answers with a flat voice. “We walked about a dozen blocks, asking people if they saw our victim around the area in the last month. Nobody saw nothin’.”

“Or they have, and they’re just not telling us,” Sebastian cuts in, collapsing into his chair. “Either way, we have squat.”

Pride sighs again, reclining back in his chair and rubbing his heavy eyes. “I shoulda called Chris and Y/N. Sent ‘em your way for some help,” he says.

Tammy’s already saddling up her things, but she looks up at the mention of your name. A small little huff comes from her chest. “It’s no big deal, Pride. Besides, if Y/N takes that job offer, we’ll have to get used to being a man down.”

Job offer?

The words send ice into Pride’s spine. He thinks for a moment that maybe he heard her wrong. Maybe he’s just tired and read something in the files about a job offer. But even Pride knows that explanation doesn’t stand; he knows he heard Gregorio right. And suddenly, all the fatigue in his body is gone as he stands at his desk, leaning closer towards Tammy. “Job offer?” He echoes.

She’s quiet for a moment. Looks over to Sebastian, and when Pride does the same, he finds that the forensic agent has his eyes averted to his computer screen to avoid the stare. So Pride looks back to Tammy, his stomach growing tight with a desperate need to know. “What job offer, Gregorio?”

“I thought they told you. I mean, the rest of us knew, so-”

“Well, tell me now.”

Tammy’s arms fall to her sides, looking exasperated. “The thing that kept them busy this morning? It was an interview with the FBI. Something about a position that opened up. Y/N’s been getting calls, and I guess they went to hear what they had to say.”

The floor was suddenly swaying under Pride’s feet. Has he really been so blind that you went for a job interview and he didn’t know? He was usually on top of things, like this. He knew before anybody else did. And yet, this somehow flew under his radar.

He swallows, feeling a little sick before tilting his head at Gregorio. “Are they takin’ the job?”

“I don’t know.”

Good. That’s good. Pride still had time to talk to you. To be honest.

He’s grabbing his phone and keys and marching out the door before either of his agents can say anything more. Pride needed to get to your house as quickly as possible. It was late, sure. You might not appreciate him knocking on your door after a hard day, but he knew in his gut that this couldn’t wait until morning.

Pride tries his hardest to focus on driving, but his thoughts drift to you. More specifically, all the perfect moments over these last few months when he could’ve said something about the way he felt. Back then, it always felt necessary to ignore it. There was plenty of time, he’d tell himself. Soon. He’d tell you soon. When the time was right.

Evidently, Pride waited too long for the perfect moment. Whether he liked it or not, it was now or never.

His car screeches to a stop in front of your place. The lights are off, and had it not been for your car in the driveway, Pride would’ve been afraid that you weren’t even home. So, quick as he can, he turns the car off and jumps out, making his way to your front door.

His chest is impossibly tight, making it hard to breathe as he stops in front of the door. For a brief moment, Pride is tempted to just turn around and walk back to his car. Would it really be fair of him to dump this on you in the midst of an important decision? How much would it influence which job to choose?

Pride’s fist bangs on the door - hard, in case you’re asleep.

No, he knew you felt something for him, too. If he wasn’t honest tonight, he’ll regret not giving you that choice.

There’s no answer, so Pride knocks again. It feels like time stretches on for much longer than it really is. As the seconds tick by, the growing pit of dread in his stomach grows and grows. Maybe you weren’t even home. Or maybe you’re just not answering, knowing it’s him and not wanting to speak him.

The thought makes Pride turn away from your front door. And he takes a couple steps away before finally hearing the locks flip. When he looks back, you’re peering out through the crack in the door with blurry eyes. “Pride?” You ask in a groggy voice.

You open the door wider, and he can see you’ve changed into loose-fitting pajamas. Messy hair and slow movements - you were obviously sleeping. And even though Pride felt a bit of guilt at disturbing you, he was beyond pleased that you were answering the door. Talking to him. “Uh, hey. Sorry for wakin’ you up,” he replies, coming back to his previous spot.

Your head shakes, watching his hand fit into his pockets. Watching the way his eyes don’t truly meet yours; something was up. “It’s okay. Is something wrong?”

“No, no, everything’s fine.” Dwayne stops himself, shaking his head vehemently as he backpedals. “Actually, no. Everything’s not fine. I heard about your interview with the FBI.” Once the words are out, your own eyes fall away from his. So Pride tilts his head to reestablish contact. “When were you gonna tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” you answer, and then sigh. “At least, not until I figured out what I was gonna do.”

Pride understands your reasoning; he really did. But that doesn’t stop him from leaning forward, needing more of an explanation. “Don’t you think this is something you shoulda shared with me?” He asks, fighting to keep a desperate tone from entering his voice.

Your eyes immediately return to his at the question. “Why?”

He almost says it. Blurts out the three impossibly-heavy words that’s been hanging like an anvil over his head since Gregorio told him about your interview. But at the last moment, Pride backpedals and straightens up. “I’m your boss,” he says, as if that was the problem.

Something twists in his gut when your face hardens up. Pride can basically feel the walls going up - you suddenly felt a million miles away from him. “Well, I didn’t know I needed your permission to go for interviews.” Your voice is much harsher than it was before, and it causes Pride’s eyes to fall to the ground. “And I haven’t even decided if I’m taking it, so-”

“I don’t think you should.”

Did he just say that out loud? Geez, it’s not like this was his decision. Like he had any stake at all in your career. For all he knows, the FBI would be good for you. Pride can imagine the prestige that’ll come with an NCIS agent who was asked to join.

But the thought of you leaving and never coming back scared the hell out of him. Left a yawning pit in his stomach.

Your arms cross at his words, still looking stern. “Why not?” You ask.

This was Pride’s chance; he saw that clearly now. No more being afraid of crossing lines or ruining a friendship. Not when he could lose you. Pride sucks in a deep breath because he realizes he hasn’t been breathing. “Because that’d mean you won’t be here. With me. And I really don’t want you to go. I know I’ve been cowardly and never said a damn thing, but...”

The words get stuck in his throat. Pride watches you take a step closer, eyes focused solely on him. Your expression is no longer angry or defensive. It’s more like you’re....searching. Waiting for him to say the right thing that’ll get you to stay. And Pride knows what it is.

“I love you. Please don’t go.”

It’s done. It’s out now. After months of burying it and ignoring it, Pride lets his feelings see the light of day. He knows he should feel relieved; he never enjoys keeping his emotions underwrap. But right now, it’s almost as if Pride’s heart has stopped beating.

At least until your searching gaze lights up, and you smile at him. Bright and warm and almost-painfully jumpstarts his heart but he can’t even feel it past the hot rush of joy. Dwayne mimics the smile before you’re suddenly on him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. He instantly circles his own arms around your midsection.

Sure, you both have hugged before. You were close friends, and Pride was an affectionate guy. Touches weren’t out of the question. But this hug was miles ahead every other hug you’ve shared. Because Dwayne didn’t have to stop himself from spreading his fingers out across your back. Didn’t have to fight back the urge to push his face into the crevice of your neck.

So he does just that, and then sighs when he feels your fingers play with the hair at the base of his skull. “I love you, too,” you mumble out, right next to his ear.

The words warm Dwayne more than he could ever possibly think they would. So he grins into your neck, not even bothering to pull away to ask his next question. “So you won’t go?”

The vibrations of his voice in your neck make you laugh. And when you try to pull away to look at him, Dwayne instinctively pulls you closer. Like he was afraid you’d suddenly run away. Or worse; say you were taking the job.

You finally pull back enough to look him in the eye. And despite everything, there’s a bit of fear and worry shining in his green gaze. Fear, because after finally letting himself step over line, maybe it wasn’t enough. Worry, because perhaps you didn’t love him enough to stay.

But then you shake your head, and smile at him again. “No, I won’t.”

The smile turns into a grin that Dwayne instantly reflects. He’s eager to pull you back in, already addicted to the feeling of having your body pressed against his. But he can’t seem to break contact with your eyes. Nor you with his. The air around you suddenly weighs more than it should be, or maybe it’s just hard for Dwayne to breathe.

Either way, he raises a hand to fit along your jawline. His thumb comes out to trace over your cheek; soft and warm. And the way your head leans into his hand doesn’t help ease the pounding of his heart.

Lining up his lips with yours was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, it was a motionless kiss. Just pressing your lips together to get the feel of it. But in no time, Dwayne starts moving, and you follow his lead. He immediately moves to start sucking on your bottom lip, and the way you inhale at the sensation gives him goosebumps. Your hand moving through the hair on the back of his head only makes them stronger.

You’re both breathing through your noses to stretch the kiss on for as long as possible. And Dwayne is content to stand here all night doing just that; you felt way too good to let go.

But there’s a phone call. From inside your house. Who the hell was calling you this late?

You’re the one who finally breaks the kiss; flustered and panting and smiling shyly. Dwayne has no doubts that he’s in the same state, but his head is in the clouds, so he can’t be sure. That’s why he silently walks through your front door after you grab his hand and you pull him inside.

Neither of you speak. It’s a little awkward, in a good way - you feeling bad that your phone cut the kiss short, and Dwayne just eager to continue it. But he simply watches as you walk up the coffee table, sweeping up your phone and checking the caller ID. “Who is it?” He asks lightly.

“The FBI agent who interviewed me. He said he’d call me, night or day, when he got any news.”

Dwayne nods, expecting you to answer, but you never do. And it makes him frown a little in confusion. “Arent’cha gonna answer it?” Dwayne questions, stepping up to stand beside you.

A second later, you shake your head and send the call to voicemail. Dwayne’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but then your arms are around his shoulders again. Lips brushing against his. And he suddenly couldn’t care less about the phone call.

[rxyllum]

All of Our Days

Summary:

Small snippets of life after the war.

(Based off of my “rayllum headcanons” post)

—

Pairings:

Rayllum

—

Notes:

This started off as a small drabble, but ended up being much longer, a bit over 5,000 words. Please note that most of this was written last night after school cuz I had bits of inspiration I didn’t want to lose (so several parts might be a bit rushed).

I’ll probably go back, add a few things, and edit it later, but for now here’s the final version of the first draft.

—

All of Our Days

—

It started off simple. A small, slowly growing flame that often diminished to the point of almost non-existence.

But it was there, and when Rayla first realized what was happening she pushed the feelings as deep into her subconscious as possible.

They had a mission, they had to return the dragon prince to his mother. Nothing more, nothing less.

Their time together would eventually end. She wasn't going to fall in love.

•  •  •

Callum didn't know exactly when he began developing feelings for Rayla. He just knew that it was a silly crush, and it would pass eventually.

After all, who wouldn't like the sarcastic, smart, funny, intelligent, cute, awkward, amazing, talented elf in that way.

When the crush wasn't fading, Callum began to grow concerned. It was as if, with every passing day, his love grew and grew.

He'd fallen down a deep hole called love, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to leave.

•  •  •

When they first revealed their feelings for each other, it was completely by accident.

The dragon prince had been returned to his mother, and the dragang had finally returned to Katolis, where Harrow had managed to escape Viren's curse and return to his rightful place at the throne. Peace negotiations were being made, and a formal celebration was held at Katolis' main ballroom, where several political leaders — both human and elf — had gathered for peace treaty negotiations.

There had been several people around their age as well, and they even managed to get a message out to Ellis, who joined Ezran in exploring secret passageways and stealing jelly tarts throughout the night.

The problem was the elves and humans around Callum and Rayla's age. The elves were the children of high-ranking Xadia elves, and the humans the children of nobles.

Callum had left Rayla for a split-second to grab the two of them drinks (moonberry juice, of course) when a random human girl approached him, laughing flirtatiously at something he said. The dress she wore was much more extravagant than Rayla's (there was no way anyone was getting her into one of those frilly ball gowns, and it had taken Claudia hours to convince Rayla to wear the corset-less sea foam colored one she had on), and Rayla's heart seemed to burn at the sight of Callum's awkward laughter and silent glance he sent her way.

It was a plea for help, one she'd seen several times on their short journey together.

And so, Rayla approached them, taking one glass of moonberry juice from Callum's hand, and then replacing the empty space with her own hand.

The girl seemed to falter at the sight of the elf, who simply smiled in return. The humans could hate her all they wanted, but that didn't mean she had to give them valid reasons to hate her.

The conversation dwindled, and the human girl eventually left to join her other human girls, whom Rayla could clearly hear gossiping about the stuck-up elf that had interrupted her conversation with the prince, who was close to marrying age.

Seeing how awkward the conversation with the other girl had made him made a spark of jealously fill her chest, and she gave his hand a comforting squeeze, which he returned.

They didn't separate after that, not until Harrow approached them and asked Rayla to find Ezran, as both princes were needed for a diplomatic address. Rayla nodded, quickly saying farewell to Callum and making her way out of the ballroom and to the secret passage Ezran had shown her earlier.

"It's the best one to steal jelly tarts at events," he'd told her. She could only assume that's where he and Ellis had made their base.

Sure enough, he was there, and she sent him off to find the king. Ezran and Ellis stealthily slopped our through a ballroom vent as Rayla made her way to the less conspicuous entrance, a ways away from the party.

When she exited and let a tapestry fall over the hidden doorway, she heard voices.

"I can't believe they let elves into the castle!"

"I know right? And that one who was hanging out with the prince, how on Earth did she manage to earn his trust?"

"Probably some weird voodoo magic they use in Xadia."

She bit her lip. The voices were coming from around the corner, in the passageway that led back to the ballroom.

"Are you sure you saw her come out here? What if she never left the ballroom, then we'd be missing the king's speech for nothing."

"Oh hush, she's out here. We just have to find out what she's doing and ruin her reputation so that the prince sees she's nothing but a lowly elf who doesn't deserve his time."

She turned to face the tapestry, maybe Rayla could just hide out in the passageway until they left. Unfortunately, they had different plans.

Before she could make any decision, the girls turned the corner, spotting the elf standing there awkwardly.

There was a long moment of silence, before Rayla lifted her chin, and began walking past them.

A hand flew out to stop her shoulder, sharp, filed nails digging into her exposed skin.

"You're that one elf girl, correct?" she asked.

Rayla recognized her as the one who's been talking to Callum.

"I'm sorry?" Rayla replied, suddenly aware of how much her accent stood out compared to the girls.

The girl rolled her eyes — which were a surprisingly sharp blue — and went on to mimic her voice, "'Ah-m soh-ray', oh shut up. You know what I mean."

Rayla stared at the girl in surprise, before commencing to look them up and down.

She could easily take them out, even without her weapons — which were tucked away back in her temporary room. A simple sweep under the legs and they'd be out of commission. They were the ones who'd chosen to wear heels instead of flats.

But if she did that they'd undoubtably twist the story, saying she attacked out of nowhere, and the humans would be outraged and war would start again.

And so, she remained silent, throwing a small glare over her shoulder.

The girl's grip on her shoulder tightened, Rayla ignored the growing pain. She survived having a binding slowly crushing her wrist, this was nothing.

"I mean, really. What does the prince see in an elf?"

Her hand released Rayla's shoulder, leaving several small, red lines forming thin crescent shapes. What happened next was worse than the pain.

The girl reached to the thin, see-through layer that stretched across the surface of her dress' base. In one swift, clean motion that suggested she'd done this before, a large tear was ripped in the expensive material.

One of the other girls gasped, "Kathleen—"

"Oh, please, Charlotte, as if the elf would risk telling anyone. If she does we'll just play the victim rout, should be easy enough."

Rayla simply stared at the dress, slowly taking several steps backwards. The now-loose fabric dragged along the ground, and Rayla's foot caught onto it, the sound of ripping fabric filling the air as she fell back and hit the wall behind her.

"You know, rags really do suit you," the blue-eyed girl continued, the one the other girl had deemed Kathleen.

It was a blur on what happened after that, but Rayla did recall a simple notion filling her mind.

Don't lash out, don't lash out.

An elf couldn't afford to hurt them.

It ended when Rayla's fear got the better of her, and an arm flew out, hitting the nearest object — or in this case, human.

When Rayla opened her eyes, she saw the shocked faces of four girls. Kathleen's cheek was a bright red, and a thin line slowly began to grow where Rayla's hit had sliced open the girl's cheek.

The look of confusion slowly gave way to that of anger. Of pure, blistering rage.

She hoisted up her dress, turning on her heels and making her way down the hall, her three friends following, their voices hushed and terrified.

Rayla took in a deep breath, swallowing back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. Rayla slowly pulled herself to her feet, slowly looking down to examine the damage.

Her dress was a mess. The jewels that had been carefully sewn into the hems were loose, several had scattered on the floor around her. The lower parts of her dress had huge gashes exposing her legs. The cuffs that had been positioned on her arms were bent, one was missing. Her necklace, one made by Runaan's boyfriend for the occasion, had been forcefully yanked off of her neck and lay shattered on the floor, where one of the girls had "accidentally" stepped on it.

And so, Rayla collected the fallen gems, slipped them into her pockets, and began making her way away from the ballroom.

It was cold out. Scattered leaves lined the entrance to the garden. Callum had mentioned the place once before, when she'd seen a drawing he'd done of it. It looked much different in autumn, when the flowers weren't in bloom and all of the plants were dying.

Rayla found herself falling to a sitting position on a bench, her eyes stinging as she tried desperately to hold back tears.

She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry.

A sob escaped her lips.

Rayla hates crying. The feeling of pain in her chest was an immense, crushing feeling, and the tears blurred her vision to the point of blindness.

She really was pathetic to think she'd be able to attend without some jealous, racists ruining it for her.

Her breath fogged in the air around her, and the cold pricked painfully at her skin as wind raced through the empty garden.

She didn't know how long she sat out there, alone, but when someone finally found her she'd cried out all of her tears.

Callum dropped his suit's jacket over her bare shoulders, blocking the chilly air from hitting her and providing her with an extra layer of warmth. He sat next to her on the stone bench, letting his head fall into his hands. They sat in silence for several minutes, neither of them wanting to break the comfortable silence they were accustomed to. They'd walked all the way to Xadia together, they were used to silence.

"We missed you at dad's speech."

Rayla nodded.

"He mentioned you. The brave elf who helped escort us safely to and from Xadia, returning the dragon prince to his rightful home."

She nodded again.

"A few minutes after the speech ended a girl around our age came in screaming about an elf attacking her."

"Kathleen?"

"Yeah. She was bleeding."

They fell into another silence, before Callum unconsciously moved closer to Rayla, trying to obtain any possible heat.

"I'm guessing there's a second side to the story."

Rayla had thought she'd cried enough tears, but her eyes had other plans. At what Callum said, tears began flowing all over again.

"She ruined your dress, didn't she?"

"I'm sorry," Rayla managed to choke out, "they'd cornered me, and I panicked! Okay? I didn't even know what I'd done until it was over!"

Callum wrapped his arms around her shoulders, "She'll be banned from all future events. When people see what she'd done to you they won't be able to protest."

"And why would they believe the word a lowly elf?"

"You're not— Rayla, you're more than just a 'lowly elf', you helped end a war!"

Rayla turned to face the boy at her side, "And  what does that matter to them? There are centuries worth of hatred that isn't just going to be undone by some silly treaty!"

"Then we'll make them understand somehow," Callum suggested, "that'll be our next adventure, re-associating the two races and ending the stupid superstitions about bloodthirsty monsters."

Rayla laughed, "Because I'm positive they'll listen to an awkward prince and his elf friend he loves to annoy."

In response, Callum smirked, "You know you love me!" he teased.

"And you know you love me too!"

"Of course I do!"

The two suddenly paused, realization dawning on what they'd just accidentally said.

"W-wait!"

•  •  •

So far dating in secret was a huge success. The only others who knew were Ezran and Bait, which made sense, since they were the most epic group of friend on the face of the Earth.

Ezran had freaked out when they told him, saying "finally!" and "it was about time" without hesitation. He then declared that it was a "Romeo and Juliet" scenario after they explained how their relationship would work.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Callum asked, his voice cracking as he narrowly avoided a spider web that just happened to be in the middle of the path.

"Ezran explores these passages all the time, we'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say, you're an epic, badass, monster-slaying assassin. I'm just a guy with a sketchbook."

"Oh hush, you love being the guy with the sketchbook."

"That would be true."

The hallway Ezran had showed them was similar to the one that led to Viren's old evil lair, only much more rarely used. Dust littered the floor, aside from small, Ezran-sized footprints that covered the length of the passageway. Unlit torches lined the wall, and Callum had originally suggested that they used the candle they had for light to ignite them, only to be shot down immediately. There was too much dust and too many cobwebs, it would be asking for disaster.

The room that the passageway led to appeared to be a part of some old shelter, a bunker designed for if war ever broke out or someone invaded the castle. It was obviously now unknown to anyone in the castle other than Ezran and the two of them. Ezran had a way of finding every one of the castle's secrets.

"There's meant to be an exit to a secret garden somewhere in here," Callum mentioned, "Ez told me that behind one of the walls is a staircase leading out to a small, hidden courtyard. There were several other passages along the way, some of which lead out of the castle and city."

"You mean like right here?" Rayla asked, pressing in a stone on the far wall. The bricks began receding to reveal a staircase like the one Callum mentioned.

"How did you do that?!"

"There was a jelly handprint."

"Of course there was."

The two entered the small staircase, ignoring the small passageways and stairs that branches out from the one they were currently on. Eventually moss began appearing on the stone steps, bits on light seeping in from what appeared to be a loosely concealed exit that was covered in roots and vines.

Rayla carefully parted the greenery, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the area around her. Flowers and various plants filled the area, a small tree was growing in the far corner, a small pond formed underneath from the lack of any drainage area.

Callum set their candle down to the side on the steps before following Rayla out of the stairwell. The walls towered high above them, with a few crumbling windows revealing what appeared to be more hidden passages.

"Wow," was all Rayla could manage to say.

"I think this might've been a medicinal garden at one point," Callum mentioned, walking over to one of the green plants that seemed to break out of a border of stone that appeared to be separating different garden plots, "that's aloe, normally used for treating burns and several skin conditions."

"Was it for the bunker below?"

"I guess, this courtyard is really small and not visible from anywhere in the castle, it might've been an emergency area, since there's only roof paneling above it looks like it was made to be practically invisible from the outside. Not even the guard areas can see it."

"It's beautiful here."

"Yeah."

"And, this means no one will be able to find us!" Rayla happily exclaimed, "Which means I won't have to worry about Runaan's unavoidable lectures that would come with dating a human."

The elf smirked, leading to Callum pouting.

"Hey, humans aren't that bad!"

"According to you, a human!"

Callum shoved Rayla's arm, and the two laughed.

He leaned over and pressed a small kiss on her cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too."

•  •  •

Runaan knew.

She had been careless, talking and laughing with Callum like they always did, like what people were used to, then she made the unconscious mistake of reaching out to take his hand. She held his hand, like they always did when walking in hidden passages with no one around to see.

Their conversation had been about something stupid, and then they began talking about art, which eventually led to Callum talking about plans King Harrow had for them to take a diplomatic trip to Xadia. They'd be able to return to her home when she and Runaan left in a few weeks.

She'd turned into a ball of joy, "That's amazing, Callum!"

The stupid elf then forgot that they were meant to be "just friends" and kissed him. Right then and there.

She'd let her guard down, and didn't realize Runaan was walking towards them, from far down the hall.

"Rayla?"

The sound of his voice made her freeze. She'd turned toward the direction of the sound and saw Runaan standing there, a faint look of bewilderment crossing his face.

Rayla had then dropped Callum's hand, and began to run, trusting Callum to do the same.

Callum hadn't run, and later told her that Runaan wanted to speak with her.

Here she was, a week later, still avoiding the elder elf at any possible moment. She'd been avoiding sleeping in her assigned room, instead rotating through random guest rooms that were never used and running every time Runaan appeared.

Today was a problem, however. Runaan decided to chase her.

It was inevitable, really. But she was not ready for this conversation.

Runaan was far more experienced than her, they both knew this, but she knew the layout of the secret passageways better than him.

The only problem was that there were no entrances near where they were.

Oh, for the love of Xadia—

Rayla turned a random corner, making her way out to one of the guard walkways, and jumping over the wall, using her daggers to quickly scale down the wall and into the training courtyard, ignoring the baffled looks of those around her as she ran.

Runaan caught up to her in one of the empty hallways.

Her legs we pulled out from under her, and she went crashing to the floor.

"Rayla," Runaan shouted, "would it kill you to stop running for just one second and listen?"

She rolled onto her back, staring at her mentor with a silent fear in her eyes.

Runaan sighed, "Come in, let's go to a more private place."

The walk back felt like an eternity, and Rayla felt her cheeks redden at every thought of what he'd seen and what he was going to try talking to her about.

They reached her room, and Runaan closed the door behind them, leaning on it casually as if to say "you aren't getting out of this."

The silence was deafening to Rayla.

"So, how long has this been going on?" Runaan finally asked.

"Maybe six months or so, since that one event when my dress was ruined."

"And just how long were you two planning on hiding it?"

Rayla remained silent.

"Rayla—"

"I don't know! Okay?" she shouted, her hands wrapping around her chest in a false sense of comfort, "I don't know how any of this will end, I was just sort of hoping things would find a way to work."

"You do realize that people won't be happy with this."

"Yeah."

"There'll always be someone trying to find fault in both of your actions."

"I know."

"If you ever decide to try having kids they'll face all kinds of discrimination—"

"Okay, ew. Please don't say anything like that ever again."

Runaan let out an emotionless laugh.

"Never change, Rayla."

•  •  •

When they decided to go public with their relationship, Callum had just turned 17. There had been countless rumors beforehand, so it wasn't that big of a shock to anyone (King Harrow had known for almost as long as Runaan, but had decided to let them tell him when they were ready).

There was an outrage, as expected. A mob of protestors appeared outside of the castle gates the very next day, and the two lovebirds decided to run off to their secret garden with Ezran in order to avoid the press.

"So, are we still going to raid the kitchens tonight?" Ezran asked, pushing through the curtain of vines and joining the other two in the small courtyard, Bait clutched securely in his arms.

"Of course! What else are we meant to do on a full moon?"

"You two are ridiculous," Callum signed, letting a hand rest on his forehead, "Ezran, you're the crown prince, just ask for some jelly tarts to be brought to your quarters and you'll have a plate in the next ten minutes."

"But that takes the fun out of it!" the younger boy protested, Rayla nodded in agreement.

"Besides, sooner or later the baker will come to a realization that the sweets disappear only on the full moon, we have to collect as many as possible before they discover our plan," Rayla explained.

Callum rolled his eyes, "Rayla, you know I love you. But why do you insist on using your spooky, magical, epic full-moon mode on stealing jelly tarts?"

"Well, I'm not an assassin anymore, what else am I meant to do with my magic?"

"I don't know, something cool?"

"My dear brother, are you suggesting that stealing jelly tarts in the middle of the night isn't cool?"

"Um, that's not what I meant—"

"I think he is, Ezran," Rayla accused.

Bait croaked in agreement.

"Fine then, we won't share any of our loot with you tonight!"

"But Ez!"

Callum ended up helping with their theft that night.

•  •  •

When Rayla next returned to Katolis, their reunion played out how it usually did. Callum was waiting at the gates when her group of elves arrived, and as soon as she saw him she was sprinting to close their distance. In the next second they were in each other's arms, Callum spinning the elf around before kissing her.

You'd think that by their reunion it had been years since their last meeting. No, Rayla had only been gone for a couple of months.

It was just how they'd grown used to seeing each other again.

The two of them spent around an hour at the castle, talking, before heading off to the city.

The streets of Katolis' capital were crowded with people. It wasn't a surprise, really, considering the fact that the now-annual festival for peace between humans and elves was today.

The late-summer air was filled with the feint chill of winter, though the extra layer of Rayla's cloak dismissed any bit of cold lingering in the air. Callum had painted over her markings with a tan oil, and the gloves on her hand were a much more advanced disguise than the ones she'd used when traveling with the two princes. There was a prosthetic fifth finger, sewn into the glove so that whenever she moved her pinky the extra finger moved as well.

Callum's disguise was much more simple, he'd found a way to create a sort of wig, so that his hair was a dark black instead of brown, and changed into much cheaper clothing. If anyone were to look at them they wouldn't see the crown prince and his moonshadow elf girlfriend, but two random people strolling the streets.

Music drifted throughout the street, with a clearing up ahead holding a dance area. The concrete was covered in various chalks and paints, and there was a group of children creating their own messy artwork on the cobblestone.

"Callum, look," Rayla suddenly said, getting her boyfriend's attention.

In the window of one of the several shops was a painting. It depicted two people, one was a human boy, and one was very clearly a moonshadow elf, or what she assumed the artist thought moonshadow elves looked like. They faced each other, foreheads touching and their hands cupped around what appeared to be a small star, illuminating their faces in a soft glow.

Callum bought the painting on their way back to the palace.

•  •  •

"So when are you going to ask Rayla to marry you?"

The question came as such a surprise that Callum choked on his moonberry juice.

"I'm sorry?"

"You two have been dating for years now. When are you gonna marry her?" Ezran asked again.

He asked it so nonchalantly, before going back to eating another jelly tart.

He turned to look at Rayla, who was currently on the other side of the dining room, conversing with their dad as if he wasn't even a king. It always amazed Callum at how quickly the king took a liking to Rayla, treating her more like family than an elf assassin that once tried to kill him (though she never actually got around to killing him).

"You're eighteen now, you know. Most princes get married at sixteen," Ezran mentioned, stressing the fact that yes, today he turned eighteen. He was officially an "adult".

"Ezran!"

And so, the next several month were spend in a complete and utter mode of panic.

For once he was actually glad Rayla had to return to Xadia for the next month, because he didn't know how he would be able to act around her. Ezran must've known his words had an effect on him, because he kept finding a tray of jelly tarts at the foot of the door that led to Ezran's room most nights.

Still, Callum wasn't able to sleep soundly and act normally until he'd managed to plan out every bit and piece of how he'd propose to Rayla — if that ever even happened.

He accidentally proposed to her a year later.

It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did.

He'd gotten the ring ready and everything, and was confident in his decision, sure. But he just didn't want it to happen in that exact way.

It was meant to be a perfect day. They'd go for a walk through the castle gardens, spend the whole day out in the sun and possibly go swimming before having a late lunch and—

Well, none of that really mattered anymore.

They didn't even make it outside.

When walking through the castle halls, they managed to walk past the place where the two of them first met and, well, it just sorta slipped from his mouth.

"Hey, remember the one time you tried to kill me when I was walking down this very hall?"

"Oh, that was here, right! I'd almost forgotten."

"I'm glad Ez and I aren't dead."

"Me too."

"...ugh I can't do this anymore."

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just stressed about how I'm going to ask you to marry... me...."

He'd trailed off as he realized what exactly he'd said.

Rayla said yes, of course. But still. It wasn't the best way to ask someone to marry you.

•  •  •

It isn't until years later, we'll after they're married and happy when the subject of children came up.

It took forever for Rayla to get pregnant, and when it looked like she was, she and Callum didn't tell anyone except Harrow, Ezran, Amaya, and Runaan. They didn't want to get the kingdom's hopes up; after all, despite the portion that hated their relationship, the majority seemed to actually ship them. Ezran discovered this when he accidentally found a "black market" dedicated to fanart and fanfiction for his brother and friend.

When it became clear that Rayla definitely was expecting a child, she and Callum cried. They began worrying about the smallest things. Callum wanted to be there for the child, able to live and see them grow, to fill in a needed place that he'd only ever known from Harrow (it occurred to Rayla that Callum didn't know anything about his birth father, other than that Sarai never ended up staying with the man). She was worried about being there for the child as well, worried about not being able to live up to expectations, and not wanting to leave only for someone else to take her place.

Several months later, the child was born.

It was a cold night at the beginning of December, and when she came it was all too clear what her name would be.

After all, it wasn't every day a child was born on the same date as their grandmother.

She was small, much smaller than she would've thought, with fuzzy hair bordering on white, with the occasional dark streak running through it. From what she could tell of her eyes, they were currently a mix of blue and green. She knew that as her daughter grew they'd grow to become a bright emerald green to match his father's. The small trace of horns that had yet to grow in could be felt on her small head. She had five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot, and slightly pointed ears with such pale skin she looked like a ghost.

To Rayla and Callum, their daughter Sarai was perfect in every way, shape, and form.

When Callum left the room to speak with Harrow about all of the small details about the birth (she was a new princess — that was kinda a big deal), Rayla was left with the baby girl.

She moved a small tuff of hair off of the child's forehead, spending time taking in every little detail she could. Small thoughts began filling her mind, about the hate she would eventually receive, how she'll grow up seeing that no one around her looked all that similar, or how no one but her mother seemed to have horns or markings.

A sudden cry bubbled up from the baby, as if Sarai had sensed the unsettling thoughts that drifted throughout Rayla's mind.

"Shh, don't cry," Rayla whispered, holding the child closer, "I know everything is new, and scary, and you have this weird old elf looking at you."

Rayla started to cry, she didn't exactly know why, but once she started, she couldn't stop.

"There are going to be people out there who try to hurt you, because you're different, because you're special," the child's cries slowly faded as Rayla was talking, the baby helplessly opening her eyes and attempting to stare at her mother, "but you're more amazing than any of them will ever be. You know why?"

The child couldn't understand any of this, Rayla knew. Perhaps the words were more for herself than anything else.

"Because you're surrounded by people who will love you, and care for you, and hold you tightly in their arms whenever needed. You're a miracle that most say shouldn't be able to exist. But you're here!"

The baby's eyes closed, and by the soft breaths Rayla guessed that she'd fallen asleep.

"Because your father and I love you so, so much," Rayla leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against her daughter's forehead, "welcome to your life."

[aliceslantern]

Beyond This Existence, chapter 19

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

----

Pain seared down his right arm. He swatted automatically, blindly, and found himself countering the enraged Heartless. It pressed down harder on him and seemed to want to rip the blade out of his hands. He pulled back as hard as he could.

In this chaos, he heard Ienzo yell-- “Hold them off!”

“Are you serious?” What the fuck was he doing?

Demyx jumped back. The Heartless was faster than him and continued to batter as his poor defense. Even in those days he hadn’t been great at physical combat, relying on magic instead, but he had next to no magic. Demyx ran blindly, hoping to get in a slash to its flank. It grabbed him by his leg and threw him against the wall, knocking the breath out him and flooding his vision with stars.

“Are you alright?” Ienzo shouted.

Nothing felt broken, but he could barely move his left leg. Must have pulled a tendon badly. “Oh, I’m fucking peachy!” He forced himself to stand and his knees nearly buckled. It dove. At this point it was just playing with its food.

“Hey!” There was a raw shrillness to Ienzo’s voice. It turned slightly. Demyx’s heart flew into his throat.

“Ienzo, no!”

It dashed towards him. Ienzo held something up--a red file--at eye level, unflinching even as it barrelled at him. “This is you!” He cried. “This is what we did to you. We destroyed you. We made it so that you can’t remember. We even took away your name! And then we destroyed it. And this is all that’s left. You deserve more than to be a letter. You… you’re…” He glanced at it briefly. “Even when you were here you had friends who loved you deeply. Friends who risked their hearts to save you. Isn’t that right? Subject X?”

They stopped dead in their tracks. Demyx limped towards them, preparing to strike.

“No,” Ienzo said. “Put it away.”

“Ienzo--”

“She’s listening.”

“She?”

The Heartless looked at Demyx for a long moment.

“Friends?” Demyx said slowly. He blinked. It all clicked. Everything. “Lea and Isa? You mean she’s that girl they were talking about?” She hadn’t disappeared. She’d transformed.

The Heartless chirped urgently.

“Yes! Lea and Isa,” Ienzo said slowly. “They tried so hard to save you. I remember.”

“They still miss you,” Demyx added. “They were just telling me all about you. They would have come themselves but they… they had to go away.”

Ienzo let the file come down. It dropped out of his palm.

“Wait…” Demyx said. He struggled to pick up the first page, the one with the picture clipped to it. “No…” He blinked rapidly, as though it might disappear. He was dizzy with memory.

Ienzo was breathing hard. His normally impeccable posture had wilted, like he’d been the one fighting her off. “Whatever’s the matter? Is it your injuries?”

He shook his head. “I know her.”

Ienzo squinted. “You… know…”

“I know her,” he reasserted. “She’s… she’s from my time.” He turned towards Subject X and jabbed towards the picture. “This is you, right?”

The Heartless whistled.

“You… you probably don’t recognize me,” Demyx said. “I was younger then, and my hair was different. But I’m all grown up now. You didn’t get to do that, did you?” He summoned the Keyblade and held it flat in his hands. “You complimented my Keyblade, because it was unique. My name changed, but then it was…” He whispered it.

Ienzo’s expression was incredulous.

The Heartless eyed him more closely.

“I know,” Demyx said. “Really different. And Ienzo is too. We’re all grown up now. I wish… I wish our party hadn’t fallen apart. You were pretty much the only cool one there. But you always kept to yourself. And then I saw you in the Dandelions too. It was the Foretellers who pulled us out of time and wiped our memory. You just had the shittiest luck to end up here.”

She held out one trembling claw. Demyx took it. The sharp claws sliced into his right palm, sending yet more pain through him, but he held it in. Ienzo reached for him.

“It’s okay,” he lied, more for the girl than for Ienzo. “She’s not hurting me. We’re going to help you, okay? We can make it stop hurting. Do you want that?”

The Heartless tightened her claw. He took a quick breath through his teeth.

“You’ll be free,” he said. “We’ll all be free, Skuld. Close your eyes.”

The Heartless listened. Demyx took the Keyblade and drew it through her heart.

And then it was quiet. And there were no more Heartless.

Pain throttled him more than anything else, and he stifled a whimper.

“Let me see your hand,” Ienzo said. He himself didn’t look so hot. Demyx reached into the bag and retrieved the first aid kit. He dropped to a kneel. His leg hurt too much to keep putting weight on it. Ienzo’s own hands, when they took his, were trembling. “It’s not infected.” Then more gently, “You were so very tender with her.”

He wrapped it with gauze. Demyx was trying to be tough but couldn’t help flinching. “That should hold until we can get you to Even or Aerith. Where else are you hurt? Here.” He gave Demyx one of the potions. It tasted slimy and sweet. The pain subsided to a dull throb. “You were limping.”

“I’m pretty sure I just tore a hammy. I don’t think anything’s broken.”

Ienzo felt at the bones anyway. His eyes were dull. When he looked down, Demyx could see the faint sliver of red beneath his nose and the world seemed to come to a stop.

Demyx was barely aware of it when he spoke. “Ienzo? You’re bleeding.”

He touched it. Demyx could tell he hadn’t known. What power even was this? Use of the lexicon? Had he created some illusion for all this Heartless that Demyx hadn’t seen? Or was it the feeling? He’d dragged Demyx out of the pain. And now he’d done that again, for them, times a hundred.

“It’s okay,” Demyx said numbly. “Even told me what to do in this situation.”

The brightness in him seemed to be fading. “You asked him?” Ienzo asked quietly.

God. This all hurt so badly. “You’re going to be fine.” He dug out the syringe. “Give me your phone. I’m going to call them.”

“What’s that?” Ienzo asked. There was a trace of denial in his voice, which was somehow worse. It felt like a betrayal.

He took a breath. “Something to slow the damage to your heart.”

“Damage?”

“Absorbing all that pain drained the strength from your will. Now your organs are shutting down.”

“So I’m to sleep again?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it. The power.” He shuddered a little, and Demyx caught him when he fell back into his arms.

“I know.” Demyx touched his face. “I love you,” he said. And stabbed.

Ienzo didn’t lose consciousness all at once. It took a moment, a moment where Demyx could clearly see him fighting it. There was a rough, animal fear. Eventually he went limp. Tears ran itchily down Demyx’s face. He took Ienzo’s pulse. Weak. He took the phone out of Ienzo’s pocket. Dialed. He couldn’t get the words out from crying too hard.

“It’s alright,” Even said. “I know. We’re coming.”

This shouldn’t feel familiar.

Through the veil of wetness in his eyes, he kept monitoring him. Demyx could hear him struggling to breathe. If it weren’t for his leg he could carry Ienzo, but his arms were shaking too hard with a potent mixture of stress and exhaustion. Had he been too late? He should’ve made him turn back. This was all his fault--

Ienzo’s pulse dropped. Numbly Demyx began to do compressions. How much time had passed, or was passing? Where were they? What was he going to do if--

All of his readings had been just that--readings. Theory wasn’t going to help him here.

Before long he found himself being pushed out of the way. He hadn’t heard footsteps or voices. Everything was ringing a little bit and was fuzzy. Even and medicine, blond hair and white coats. Dilan appraised Demyx, pulled him aside. Only the agony of his leg when he tried to get him to walk shook the weird spell. Something about an injury. Something about blood loss. Dilan hefting him up. Dilan, pulling harder when he resisted, but the combination of exhaustion and weakness made it an easy squabble. Getting carried like a baby. Aerith as she ran down the stairs.

Being set down on his bed. Dilan, cleaning and tending to his hand and arm. Tea being pressed into his uninjured hand. The pain of it all was incredible. Demyx was vaguely aware of being offered painkillers, or a sedative, but was too numb to consent to it.

Outside, it began to snow.

Hours must’ve passed. Gradually, gradually, the ringing in his ears subsided, and he became more clearly aware of his surroundings. The blanket around his shoulders. The now-cold teacup in his hands. The distinct, sharp throb of his arm and leg, a diagonal slash of pain across the body. Demyx reached for the bottle of painkillers he’d been given for the scratch on his hand months ago, took two, and sat down.

There was a gentle knock at the door. His heart immediately started racing. He stood, in his haste forgetting he could barely move, and fell.

“Oh, bother,” Even said. “Here. Right. Up we go.” He helped Demyx sit back on the bed. His hair had been pulled out of his face and was stringy with what seemed to be sweat. Eyes dull. Complexion washed out. Without another word he began to prod at Demyx’s wounds.

“What’s going on,” Demyx asked. “How--”

“Getting yourself worked up will not help the situation,” Even said levelly. “Let me see your leg.” He felt at it gently. Demyx was right in his diagnosis; it was only a torn hamstring. He wrapped in in an elastic bandage over his jeans.

“Even,” Demyx hedged desperately. “He’s not--”

“No,” Even said. “Ienzo lives yet.”

He felt only the slightest relief. “You say that as if it’s not guaranteed.”

Even sighed. “His condition is quite critical. Aerith is doing what she can. The situation he’s in… it’s quite extreme. We’re still not fully sure of the extent of the damage.”

“He didn’t know he was doing it,” Demyx said. He hiccupped. “He was taking them out of the pain. Out of the memory, like he did for me.”

“And the interference of darkness doubtless doesn’t help.”

“I didn’t know either,” Demyx said. “I just--I thought--I didn’t see anything, and then when I did see he was getting weak I tried to get him out of there. But then I got attacked.”

“You’re not at fault.”

“Yes I am.” His voice rose on a wave of hysteria he barely felt. “I shouldn’t have let him do this at all--”

“As you said. This would’ve happened sooner or later. Ienzo, in his humanity, has become quite impulsive.”

“Still, I--”

“I believe he was more sensitive to their pain than he let on. He always was acutely aware of darkness. When he was a little boy, he would tell me he could hear the screams. I always thought it was trauma. Now I'm not so sure.” Even brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” It was starting to hit him now. Demyx wanted anger, wanted to be screamed at.

Even’s gaze was steely. “You two were the only ones equipped to end this suffering, and willing to do it. I cannot be mad that has a price.”

“I knew her.” The tears were running freely now. “Subject X. Her name was Skuld.”

Even blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “We were both Dandelions.”

“I did think that was a needlessly poetic name.” Even squeezed Demyx’s hand gently. His skin was cold and papery. “This has obviously been quite traumatic for you.”

“What about you?”

“It is never easy to see Ienzo in danger,” he said haltingly. “I admit I do not care for this new self-sacrificing streak of his.”

“You raised him.”

Even gave him an odd look. “You know how I feel about Ansem’s paternal instincts. What was I to do, let the boy go rabid?” He sighed. “Like many days of our past, that was a harsh one. All of a sudden I’m presented with a bloody, traumatized child and expected to make it all better. Not unlike now. At least you’re speaking to me. It took him close to a year to talk.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You should get some rest. You must be exhausted.”

“But what if he--”

“Should the situation worsen, I will rouse you.” He stood. “He would not want you to push yourself for his sake.”

Even had a point. Demyx nodded. Left alone in the room, he lay under the mound of covers and counted every breath until he fell asleep.

---

The snow kept falling.

When he woke, he tried to stand and nearly cried out. Not only was he hurt, he was bruised and sore. He was able to at least limp around a little. He made his way over to Ienzo’s room, step by painful step. Aerith sat in the chair by the bed. One of her hands was on Ienzo’s forehead; the other held his. She wasn’t mouthing spells. Demyx shivered.

She looked up at him and offered a tired smile.

“How is he?” Demyx asked cautiously. He limped over to the foot of the bed.

“It was touch and go most of the night,” she admitted. “He was fighting to hang on, but the internal damage and exhausted will made it quite a fight. He finally stabilized around dawn. Breathing and pulse are steady. All good signs. You did the right thing by inducing that sleep. If he was conscious, it would have been too much.”

Demyx sat weakly. “Is he going to pull through?”

“I’m almost certain.” Her expression was serious, though. “The will is probably the most mysterious and least explored aspects of the human body. He’s exhausted it down to near nothing. But he’s still alive. If it was truly gone he would have passed on by now. And he gets stronger every hour. I think that means something.” She sighed. “We’re not meant to have certain powers, as much as they’re tools for us. You’ve both been lucky so far. I don’t think you’ll be lucky again. Meddling with forces of nature like this is deadly.”

“I know. It was his connection to them that did it, I think.”

“Them?”

“The people in the experiments.”

Aerith dropped her eyes. “I was only a kid when it happened,” she said. “I thought it was a ghost story, at first. But we’d hear it. The screaming, at night. Internalizing all that pain… it makes sense now.” She took her hand off Ienzo’s forehead. “I wish I could do something about your injuries. But I have no magic left. I can come back and tend to them later after I get some sleep.”

“It’s okay. I’m probably just going to stay around here anyway.”

“You’re all shaken up about this,” she stated.

Demyx exhaled. “I’m used to seeing people in danger. Not so used to seeing people I love that way.”

“Psychically, it takes a toll. Remember to take care of yourself too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

She stood and gave him a hug. “I’ll be back in a few hours. If anything urgent changes between now and then, you know what to do.”

For several long minutes after Aerith was gone, Demyx watched Ienzo breathe. His skin was sallow, almost yellowish. He could see the veins in Ienzo’s hands. “Here we are again,” he said sadly.

His hand hurt too much to play Arpeggio. Snow fell in a straight, even sheet.

“...Are you alright?”

Demyx turned slowly. Ansem was just as haggard as the rest of them. “Kinda beat up. But I’ll be okay.”

He squeezed Demyx’s shoulder and sat in the chair. “That was a brave thing you two did. Infinitely stupid and foolish. But brave. This began with Ienzo being thrust into danger, and ended with him willfully choosing it. Life can be… odd like that sometimes.”

“The Heartless down there were different than the normal ones,” Demyx said. “It’s almost like they were a bit more human. More aware.”

“Maybe because you had never viewed them as human before.”

“Maybe.” He turned again to Ienzo. “I don’t understand why this happened. I mean… logically, I do. I have power. Aerith has power. Why can’t he?”

“Ienzo’s power was borne not out of a place of necessity, but of pain,” Ansem said. “Overcoming that pain made use of it all the more dangerous. At least, that’s what I think of it. I’m hoping from here on out you can determine your own fates without that weight hanging over all. It’s time to move on. Truly. After all this I do not want to spend one more moment dwelling on Xehanort. That monster deserves nothing. I want instead to focus on the lives of those dear to me.” He touched Ienzo’s hand.

“Yeah,” Demyx said. “Me too.”

----

The weeks passed with a simultaneous uniformity and variation. The cold snaps became less frequent. Snow subsided to sleet, then to rain. Demyx kept studying, kept playing Arpeggio, kept Ienzo company. Aerith taught him spells to help care for his sleeping form, and to his surprise he found he picked them up quickly. There had been a reason for all this reading after all.

The ache of missing him never quite went away. Especially when he slept at night alone. Even if he’d had an otherwise good day, he was bound to remember some time or another. Inevitably. Inexorably.

He’d been given one of the spare gummiphones by Ansem, urging him to keep in touch with the others. The device took some getting used to. So did the constant communication. He did like to see what the others got up to on the photo program. They all looked so… happy. Lea or Roxas would reach out to him every now and again, and he tried to sound optimistic. After all, if Ventus could sleep for twelve years, what was a few weeks?

He was taking a nap when Ienzo woke up.

Only since he’d been using the little basic spells could he appreciate Aerith’s power. Performing minor vital checks, scans, or atrophy-reversing spells wore him out like nobody’s business.

He was shaken awake. Gently. When he saw Ienzo standing over him he thought it was part of a dream.

“I sleep for weeks, and yet somehow you’re the one that must be woken,” he said drolly. His voice was hoarse, scratchy.

“Ienzo?”

He smiled. “Good morning.”

The weight of all the previous weeks crushed him all at once. Demyx pulled him into his arms. Tasting tears. Tasting happiness.

[shadowedtalks]

Demons Keep what they are given. Part 7

From the corner of her eye she saw his hand rise, feeling her body react immediately stiffening up an she held her breath to stop from flinching away, before he just lightly touched her cheek breathing out slowly letting their eyes meet giving a small smirk resisting leaning into his hand, it was soft an warm on her skin. she gave the only answer she could think of for the moment. "You obviously don't know my father that well." she gave a small sigh. "Well, if you are done with breakfast why don't we go get to work i suppose." she said before realizing how his eyes were looking over her. she shifted back from his hand With a small chuckle, Looking away from him feeling odd. With the okay she got up from her chair as a group of workers appeared to clean up and she fallowed after him. He wanted her to help in the study so that is what she is going to do. Their she waited as he got busy. After a few minutes and him just working quietly she decided on something to do looking at his cluttered disorganized shelfs all around the study they both sat in. From books to loose papers and tossed about scrolls. So slipping off her shoes and tucking them under a chair she started organizing his books stacking them properly in order by name and volumes then organizing the papers by date as she didn't really know what was important or not. She moved around the room quietly as she worked threw the 30 something shelf's of books and papers dedicating 2 of the cleared shelfs to letters maps and documents that were dated and organized properly. It took several hours, she actually didn't take to much notice of how much time passed, till someone came to bring them lunch and they both looked up from their tasks when the maid knocked lightly on the open door then spoke in her shock, at the now organized study rather then the controlled mess it was before. "Oh wow...." to which the maid got bashful from speaking up like that, an lord Oakwood looked around looking shocked at the studies shelfs suddenly being organized. "Uh.... I have lunch here milord and my lady- Lady princess. It's something light since your both so busy." the maid stammered out as she moved to set the tray of food and drinks down on a separate table not to far away from his desk he was seated at. "Thank you very much." Marcona said offering a sweet smile as the maid bowed out quickly and the studies door closed with a soft click. And she looked to him. "I hadn't realized so long had passed since we got to work." she giggled softly. It was true as normally she often was very time conscious but this time.... Its like time fell away from her as she worked. Understanding now the words that had been spoken to her early that morning when she had been getting ready before breakfast. Keeping to herself with a little hum she retuned her focus to the books, dated documents, and various numbers in plans she was dealing with. She offered him a small smile and turned back to her task on the shelfs she was in front of. "Are you not going to eat?" she heard from behind her, as she reached up shelfing a book in the proper place. "Not at the moment. Im not very hungry as breakfast was very filing." she answered as she continued soring the books and papers on the shelf she was in front of. "Well i am going to eat." she heard after a moment. "Go right ahead milord, i got plenty to keep busy with." she replyed with seeming on auto pilot. "No.... I want to get to know you more princess." he spoke as she paused an looked at him shock seeming to dominate her face. It was strange. She was quiet but her presence alone pulled his attention from his work, having only gotten threw a handful of documents since they got started. And her simple light, yet sweet sent filled his senses as she moved about the room wanting to drag his eyes to her yet he kept focused as best he could on his work. She was a distraction.... It was strange but for now it was being chopped up to curiosity. She did a lot yet so little was know about her and so few had actually seen her. taking that into thought he assumed that was why he was hyper aware of her presence because not a lot is known, and she is royalty. Due to take the thrown at any time, But doesn't quite carry that air of regality about her... Simple things shut her down easy, and she goes so far as to okay that a Nobel lord could refer to them as equals yet her birth put her at a rank far beyond his own. In this kingdom as it was rare for lords of nobility to speak directly with the king, rather then his next of hand that took on such affairs an handled them or took them to the king. Even more so with any children the king an queen might have, And yet here he was causally fraternizing with the princess the heir of the kingdom. That must be it. His own curiosity and desire to annoy the king, as he was doing to him currently, must be what is driving his senses to be so hyper focused on her weather it be she is across the room or across the estate. He watched her shift bite her lower lip for a moment as she turned and put the books an various papers down before moving and sitting down near the tray of food then starting to pour a cup of their after noon drink before slowly passing one cup to him, as he took it he let his hand linger over hers for an extended moment then pulled the cup gently from her hands, she seemed to become flustered shifting and fixing her own and he let off just a small chuckle taking a drink slowly. Just watching her over the rim. She had resisted flinching earlier, that tells him she didn't miss speak when she said she wasn't pampered no princesses should flinch when a hand is raised to them, shows she was afraid of being hit. But when it displayed tenderness he caught her fighting reacting to it. From leaning into his hand just barely as her eyes fell hooded for just a split second before opening them normally and just now, how she let her hands linger under his, how she chose to hand it to him over slide it to him across the desk. It showed she liked gentle touch, the kind attention being given to her, almost like she craved it from someone, because she's never had it before. That makes him curious as to just what this beautiful princess went threw growing up, if she holds herself so in line with showing appreciation and cravings for soft affection. Just what an how was she taught? She was almost like a forced submissive but a lot more... Broken then normal yet she still had fire and fun in her eyes so he knew she wasn't lost yet. Perhaps knowing her can help some with that as well as calm down his senses in their focus to her alone at the moment as it could be a real hinder to further work. She just drank slowly on the sweet and slightly bitter drink as they took their break for the moment. Eventually she set her cup down and tuned looking at him. "Alright lord Oakwood, you want to know more about me.... Ask away with what you want to know." she said keeping her focus on him with a soft smile. She had nothing to hide so she didn't mind talking and answering questions. And talk they did however all her responses were all bland an incredibly dull. No significant talents. She had very basic schooling, focused more towards edict that was expected and required of her as a lady. All her events she help host was mediocre with no important details or means to help with meetings or discussions. She had no friends. Her father and mother are always very busy she had no time to be a clingy child as most royals grow up as. She shifted a bit as she just sat their during their talk. She didn't even have a favorite food or drink she ate whatever was given to her. She was so incredibly dull because of those responses. She didn't even have a hobby. And eventually he got fed up with those responses painting nothing but a dull gray photo of her. He called for her to just stop as he frustrations began to actually surface. "I don't know why you are doing this. Making yourself so incredibly dull! Your answers are obviously scripted! Do you have any personality at all!? Anything so you don't seem so flat and fake an dull beyond belief!?" he asked standing suddenly with his voice being loud and she jumped slightly with a flinch. Seeing that made him stall in his frustrations an began reeling back in his emotions quickly and he sat down. "If i want something boring to talk to ill go speak with the guild... Princess you can't be this dull. Why are you acting like you are? Their is no reason for it. its not like i will use this information to my advantage, we are under the same shield, YOUR shield of this kingdom." "It's so you don't get your hopes thinking i am some wonderful person, when i am not." he gave a deep sigh putting his face in his hands shaking his head slowly. "Alright fine. We waisted enough time talking like this, lets get back to work." she nodded, stood and moved returning to the shelf she was organizing last and silence fell around them he would occasionally grumble to himself about random things to low for her to hear really what he was saying before she eventually she turned an looked at him. "Hibiscus Tea." she said softly and he looked up. "Excuse me?" "Our drink this afternoon was Hibiscus Tea, i am rather good at picking out different tea flavors, an Hibiscus is one of my favorite kinds of tea. Sweet without sweetener and lightly bitter in the end like with green tea." she explained watching as that seemed to quell him an he smiled softly. "Is that so?" "Yes.... I also like all types of Owls and the stars." she said before looking away quickly and returning to her work in the shelf's before her. "So your not so dull after all princess." he said before he to focused back on his work, as now he could actually focus on it. Her finally telling the truth on a few things about her seems to of calmed his mind to let him focus. Before long she finished and left when a maid came back to clean up the tray from lunch. She went off to just hang out in her room for a little while just sitting and enjoying the cool breeze coming in from the open doors on the balcony actually dozing off a bit as she sat their. Awoken by the sound of the door gently closing behind her.

[multi-fandom-writers]

(Written by Admin Jad)

"Finished!" yelled Edward as he placed the last domino piece in its position. Mikey and Kaz - who were both playing video games at the time - turned to face Edward.

"Wow, Ed." Kaz said half-heartedly, followed by sarcasm. "That's amazing... " He removed his headphones from his ears. The headphones left a red mark around his ears, just neighbor the sideburns of his blonde hair.

"Behold, my art!" said Ed as he tipped the first piece over. The domino pieces spread around Ed's bedroom started tipping over in a chain reaction. The ebony colored plastic rectangles made a satisfying 'tick' noise with each peace that fell over. When the final piece was finally knocked over, Ed turned to face his two friends, hoping for some praise. But the two already returned their attention to the screen. "You could at least pretend to be interested!" Ed stood up and stomped his foot.

"Sorry," Mikey said. "I don't lie." He laughed and high-fived Kaz.

"Nothing personal, Ed, we're just not -" Kaz wanted to stand up and place a hand on Ed's shoulder. However, his legs - which fell asleep - failed him. He started tipping over. He tried to hang on to Mikey, but he ended up dragging him down with him. As a last resort, he grabbed on to Ed. The three of them tumbled to the floor, and over the painful pile of dominoes. A series of cursing filled the room.

"Why did you pull us down with you?!" yelled Ed. He rubbed his back in pain. The other two did the same.

"If I fall, we all do! First rule of the Bro Code!" he explained.

Mikey raised a finger. "Isn't the first rule: bros before -" He didn't finish that sentence. The bedroom door was kicked open. An angry woman holding a bar of soap held her hands at her waist. Her face held an angry and stern expression.

"M-mom!" stuttered Ed.

"There will be no cursing in this house!" For the remainder of the evening, the three teens had their mouths scrubbed with a bar of soap over and over.

<~>

"From now on, we're hanging out at my place." said Kaz as soon as he boarded the school bus. He spoke without context, so everyone except Mikey and Ed were confused.

"You got dominoes?" asked Ed, perking up at the voice of his friend. Kaz rolled his eyes and sat next to the pair at the very back of the bus. The three vividly discussed video games and anime throughout the bus ride, occasionally yelling some unintelligible words.

They arrived at the school, suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread and remorse. They fought the urge to leave. A banner hanged over the green double doors. 'School Pep Week!" it read, accompanied by the picture of a roaring lion; the school's mascot.

Coming inside, the three saw flyers taped to every locker in sight, with cheerleaders parading through the halls. "This is dumb." said Mikey. "And useless." He fiddled with a fidget spinner in his left hand, which completely undermined his entire argument.

While ridiculing the school event, a leg shot out from behind a corner, tripping Ed in the process. He landed flat on his face. "Oops. Sorry about that Eddy." said a voice. A tall individual, nearly twice the size of Ed, appeared. He wore a red letterman jacket in addition to a menacing grin.

"Ed, you're bleeding!" warned Mikey. He pointed to the blood slowly streaming from Ed's nostrils. The tall individual saw this as an opportunity. He took out a crumpled napkin from his pants pocket and wiped the blood off Ed's nose. He then proceeded to shove it up the nostril, making Ed yelp in pain. The yelp of pain alerted another individual just around the corner.

"Simon Evans!" yelled the principal. "For the love of God All Mighty, stop it with these shenanigans or so help me, I'll have you expelled!" he warned.

"Won't happen again, sir." said Simon. A cold sweat ran across his cheek. Once the authority figure was out of sight, Simon shoved Ed into the wall. "See you around, Eddy." Even when entering the sea of students, the letterman still stood out.

"You ok?" asked Kaz, offering a clean napkin. Ed gladly took it, discarding the blood-covered one.

"No," he complained. "I'm not."

"You really shouldn't let him bully you like that."

"What am I supposed to do? The dude is twice my size. The principle may act strict but he won't expel his star quarterback. What can I do?"

"Yolo it, I guess." He chuckled. Upon entering homeroom, Ed immediately noticed something was off. For once, there was no paper files, no chalk, and no grading book on the teacher's desk. Ed knew the teacher wasn't absent, for he saw her not a few minutes ago in front of the teacher's lounge.

He took his seat in the second-to-last row and dropped his bag at his side. He entered his dreamscape; started imagining and re-imagining arguments that would never happen. The national anthem blared through the class speaker, for which they all stood. Once the last lyric was chanted, the principal's blurred voice replaced the silence. "Students: First of all, I would like to congratulate our football team for making it to nationals." The class cheered. "And because of that wonderful accomplishment, a pep rally will be held for the entirety of the day. Thank your class representatives and pep committee for that decision."

Books and loose pieces of paper were thrown into the air in celebration. Students shot up from their seats and started dancing. "Sit back down!" yelled the Math teacher. "You lot are two lessons behind schedule! You're going to study for half the day!" And so they did.

The lunch bell rang. The students rushed outside the classrooms, escaping from the torment of education. "Get back here!" the teacher called after them. "The bell doesn't dismiss you! I do!" She was ignored.

Ed quietly took his lunch to the stairwell, where peace and quite rained supreme. "What'cha got there, Eddy?" asked Simon, leaning over Ed's shoulder. Ed jolted upwards, dropping his lunch in the process. "You almost got me in trouble today." he said as he took a few steps forward. "Almost." He pushed Ed into the corner. He forcefully placed his hand on Ed's face. "This time, take what you have coming for you, quietly." A heavy blow landed on Ed's cheek. Then another on his stomach. Then another. And another. Ed waved his arms in anger, but hit nothing.

Simon grabbed both hands and pinned Ed to the wall. In a last-ditch attempt, Ed kicked Simon in the unmentionables. Simon flinched. Ed saw an opportunity and rammed into Simon. He tumbled over. Fell on the stairs, then laid motionless on the tiled floor. Ed sat in the corner of the staircase. He saw a pool of blood forming around Simon.

His heart raced. His breathing became shorter and inconsistent. His screeching echoed throughout the halls, yet unheard to others over the noise of their own chatter. Ed trembled in his corner. He drove his head in between his knees in search of refuge. He found none.

Then he ran. Ran down the stairs, tripping over Simon's body. He continued to scamper through the halls, sprinted uphill through the streets which lead to his believed sanctuary; his house.

He thanked his lucky stars that none of his parents were home. He slammed the door of his bedroom and retreated underneath his bed sheets. He was trembling with such intensity that the bed itself shook. After what seemed like an eternity for him, but only ten minutes in the real world, police sirens disturbed the silence in the neighborhood. Ed held his bed sheets tighter. He was relieved when the sirens became distant. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Eventually, the exhaustion - both mental and physical - caught up to him, and he was overtaken by sleep. "Ed? Ed honey, wake up." said a soft as it gently woke Ed. Though his vision hasn't focused, he recognized the comforting face of his own mother. "Dinner is ready in ten." she said as her hand slightly pinched his cheek, giving it a pinkish tint.

Memories of today's events flooded his mind. He stifled the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. His phone, which was on his bedside, had a beeping red light on the top right corner, meaning he just received an important message.

From his friends: 'where are you?!' From Candy Crush: 'Your energy has refilled.' And from the local news: 'Murder at public high school'.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He stumbled over to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet bowl.    After an excruciating session of vomiting, he managed to calm himself down. But it didn't last for long. The squeaking of car breaks was audible outside.

   Intreeged, Ed peeked through the curtains and immediately regretted it. Two police cruisers were parked in front of his own home.

   They knocked on the wooden front door, loudly. Ed quietly made his way downstairs, making as little noise as possible. He made sure he wasn't visible to anyone who might be watching through the windows. He slowly closed the back door behind him.

   His mother - who was in the kitchen at the time - walked towards the front door. She looked through the peephole, had a moment of confusion, then opened the door.

   "Can I help you officer?" she asked, still lost on what was happening.    "Evenin' Mr.s Breker. Is your son home?" asked the officer.

   "He's upstairs in his room. Why do you need to know?"

   "Eh, there's no easy way to say this but..." The officer scratched the back of his neck. "Your son is the main suspect of the murder of Simon Evans." She froze.

   "It ain't April Fools! My son is scared of butterflies! He ain't about to murder someone twice his size!"    "Ma'am, we have a warrant to take him into questioning." Mr.s Breker stepped aside and ushered them upstairs. "He didn't do nothin'." She repeated.

   Not even a minute later, the officer came rushing back downstairs. "He's not here!"

<~>

   A rapid series of knocks sounded on Kaz's front door. Annoyed, he angrily stomped towards the doors. "What?!" He yelled the moment he opened it. His emerald eyes widened. "Ed! Where were you?! Everything went to shit after you disappeared!" Ed barged into Kaz's home in a rush.

   "The cops are after me, man!" He said nervously as he tried to hold his composure.

   "The cops are not after you, man. Chill out. They're after whoever... killed.... Simon." His eyes widened in realization. "Ed... Did you...?" he said hesitantly. Ed slowly nodded. Kaz took a step backward. "I think you should go..." Kaz said quietly.

   "There's nowhere to go. You're the only person that can help me."

   "Ed, if the cops find it that I was hiding you, they'll arrest me!"

   "But what about what you said? 'If I fall, we all do'?!"

   "We're not like your fucking dominoes, Ed! You act as if your fate matters to us. Well, guess what? It doesn't! You will fall, and you will fall alone!" Kaz pushed Ed out the front door. Ed tumbled over on and fell on the grass. He held back the tears as he disappeared into the night.

    Overnight, fifteen-year-old Edward Breker had completely disappeared. Or rather, that's what everyone thought.

Nearly a week after Ed's disappearance, the wall phone at Kaz's residence rang.

"Hello?" answers Kaz.

"Kaz." said a panting voice.

"Ed?" he exclaimed. "H-how's it goin' man?" He stuttered.

"I'm skipping town. Tonight."

"R-really? Where are you goin'?"

  "I can't say. But hey, listen. Let's meet up at the Spot. All three of us.   "Why do you want to meet there?"    "One last hangout, I guess."

"S-sure... I'll call Mikey and we'll bring some Mountain Dew, I guess."    Kaz hung up. He turned and faced the officer who was listening to the conversation. "It's him." He said. "He wants me to meet him at the Cliffside." The officer dialed a number on his flip phone and held the phone to his ear.

   "We got 'em."

<~>

   Kaz and Mikey walked through the Red-Wood forest, with a six-pack of Mountain Dew in hand. From a distance, they saw Ed's ragged figure sitting on a piece of land outstretched from the rest of the cliff overlooking the sea.

    The Spot.

   "Ed." They called out to him. His head turned in a fast, robotic manner, as if he was possessed. He brandished a smile at the sight of his two friends. They sat next to him, and each opened up a bottle of Dew.

   "Been a while since we all came here." Said Kaz, followed by a sip.

   "It really has." replied Ed.

   "Ed." Mikey said as he put a hand on Ed's shoulder. Ed immediately flinched but then calmed down. "Did you really kill Simon." Ed reluctantly but surely nodded his head.

   "I did." Kaz and Mikey turned and faced each other. They nodded. The sound of heavy footsteps crushing the fallen leaves was loud enough for Ed to hear. He jolted up from his place and focused his attention at the source of the noise.

Flashlights cut through the darkness of the night. The barks of the K-9 units were audible.

  Heartbroken, Ed faced his friends. Kaz raised his shirt, revealing a communication device strapped to his stomach. "I'm sorry, man. They forced us to do it."

   Half a dozen officers had their guns trained on Ed. "Freeze!" Ed relaxed his body. He raised his hands upwards. Two officers approached him.

   "Do I at least get to say goodbye?" he asked. The commanding officer on site motioned him to do whatever.

   Ed hugged his two friends, an arm around each of them.

   "NO homo!" They all yelled in unison, followed by a series of laughs.

"One more thing." said Ed. His arms still enveloped his two friends.

   "Which is?"

   "If I fall, we all do!" He yelled as he leaned his weight over the side of the outreach. His two friends were dragged along with him. They fell into free fall until meeting their fate at the hand of the jagged rocks below.

[tediousoscars]

2020

Predict-o-meter: This year: 9/12; Total: 117/147 (80%)

Hey. What’s up? Anything much happen since we talked last March?

Delayed, but undaunted, it is a minor miracle that the Oscars are happening at all, and even more surprising that they have managed to assemble a fairly strong class of eight films, due in large part to the advent of streaming services as original content creators.

It was a big year for 1968 Chicago, with two nominated films - “Judas and the Black Messiah,” and “The Trial of the Chicago 7” - plumbing the depths of that tumultuous time and place (Black Panther Chairman Fred Hampton appears in both films).

And it was a good year for innovation, with films like “The Father,” “Nomadland,” and “Sound of Metal” boldly exploring new techniques in film-making.

But, of course, overall it was a very bad year, but instead of dwelling on that, let’s jump right in, shall we?

The Father is the story of a successful, retired engineer who is sliding into dementia and vehemently resisting his daughter’s attempts to help him by hiring in-home caregivers. Anthony Hopkins (nominated) is breathtaking as the titular father (also named Anthony), but Olivia Colman (also nominated) matches him as his put-upon daughter, Anne.

Most films that deal with such topics do so from the outside. We watch the decline of the afflicted person and judge their reasonableness by the reactions of those around them. When they are delusional or hallucinating we know because the other characters say so, and we believe them.

The genius of “The Father” is that it goes to great lengths to effectively put the audience in Anthony’s shoes. Scenes are shot out of sequence, and sometimes repeated. The time and even the setting change without warning. And, most disconcertingly, the actors playing certain roles may be different from scene to scene. So when Anthony can’t recognize his own daughter we are right there with him because the woman standing in front of him is not the same one originally introduced as Anne.

This leads to confusion and disorientation in the viewer which, if not as intense as Anthony’s, at least allows an empathetic glimpse into his declining mental state. This is no light-hearted romp; there will be no happily ever after. Anthony ends up confused and afraid, sobbing uncontrollably and crying for his mommy. But he is never alone, and he is never uncared for, making this a deeply touching, deeply human story. With impeccable acting and innovative storytelling, “The Father” is certainly a worthy nominee by any standard.

Judas and the Black Messiah tells the incredible true story of the war waged between the FBI and the Black Panther party in Chicago in the late 60s. LaKeith Lee Stanfield (nominated) plays ‘Wild’ Bill O’Neal, a two-bit hustler who flashes a fake FBI badge, claims the car outside is stolen, confiscates the keys, and then makes off with the car. When he is caught and facing prison time for impersonating a Federal agent he decides to become an informant and is sent to infiltrate the local chapter of the Black Panther Party who’s young, articulate, charismatic leader, Fred Hampton (played by Daniel Kaluuya, also nominated) is on an FBI watch list as having the potential to become a Black Messiah and galvanize the minority population across the nation.

The world created in the film is nuanced, complex, and anything but black and white (pardon the pun). On the one hand, Chairman Hampton reaches out not only to a rival Black gang, but also to white supremacists flying the stars and bars, and a Latino gang as well. By making common cause on the grounds of lack of economic opportunity and harassment by the ‘pigs,’ Hampton forms the first Rainbow Coalition, much to the consternation of the closely-watching FBI. On the other hand, Wild Bill’s handler, Agent Mitchell, starts out all gung-ho to fight domestic terrorists, but becomes disconcerted about his superiors’ willingness - even eagerness - to cut legal corners in order to achieve desired ends. For his part, Wild Bill enters the informant agreement as a total cynic looking out for number one. But a grudging admiration for Hampton’s goals and methods leads him to question his role in the unfolding drama.

O’Neal wants out, but Mitchell (and an impending sentence) won’t let him. Mitchell wants to do things by the book, but the FBI won’t let him. Hampton wants to do things peacefully, but the Chicago police won’t let him. All three men become swept up by forces beyond their control that propel them to an inevitable, tragic, and violent climax. Stanfield and Kaluuya both give such commanding performances that apparently the Academy could not decide which of them was the lead, nominating both for Best Supporting Actor in a curious move. The storytelling is fast-paced with several independent plot threads that director Shaka King masterfully weaves into a coherent, compelling tapestry to create a film that is at once edifying and thoroughly entertaining.

Mank is a great movie about the making of the greatest movie. When a young Orson Welles is given carte blanche to make any movie he wants with full creative control, he brings in Herman ‘Mank’ Mankiewicz (played with verve by the nominated Gary Oldman) to write the screenplay. In 60 days.

Mank is a (barely) functioning alcoholic, gadfly, bon vivant, and frustrated auteur who feels that his artistry is constantly being watered down by the studios to appease the masses. Hence he finds Welles’ offer of no studio oversight irresistible. Recovering from a car accident, Mank spends the entire writing process bed-ridden and tended by a stern German hausfrau to care for his material needs and an attractive British woman to take dictation who spends equal time worrying over her husband in the Royal Navy and skewering Mank with disapproving glances at his irreverent behavior.

Through flashbacks we see Mank cut an Oscar-Wilde-esque figure that gains him entree into the world of the upper crust of Hollywood. He becomes a favored dinner guest of William Randolph Hearst because his snide, witty, risqué repartee provides - as the Las Vegas ad says - just the right amount of wrong.

From the opening title to the closing credits the film is shot entirely in the style of 1940s Hollywood: in black and white, with outsized characters spitting rapid-fire snappy patter and sizzling dialog, a melodramatic score, and a large, talented supporting cast.

Arliss Howard shines as studio mogul Louis B. Mayer, and basically steals the entire movie with a sequence in which he violently punches a man to the ground for anti-semitism, cheerfully and grandiosely pontificates upon the glory that is MGM studios, and tearfully enjoins the rank and file of said studio to accept a 50% pay cut due to the Depression - all within the span of about 30 seconds while barely taking a breath. Tuppence Middleton is also wonderful as Mank’s long-suffering wife (universally known as ‘Poor Sara’), who is every bit Mank’s equal when it comes to wit, but who cannot match his irresponsibility and so is back East caring for their children throughout the writing process. What “Mank” lacks in historical accuracy it makes up for in plain old fun. A thoroughly enjoyable film.

Minari is, despite its Korean origins, an unabashed love sonnet to the American Dream. Jacob, played by Steven Yeun in a nominated role, is a world-class chicken sexer with larger ambitions. Because of his amazing speed at separating male chicks from female he manages to scrape together enough money to buy a plot of land in rural Arkansas and pursue his dream of starting his own farm.

His pragmatic wife Monica does not share this dream and reluctantly agrees to move with their two children from the comfortable confines of California - with its thriving Korean community - to the hinterlands, and is discomfited to find that their new home is a trailer parked next to a large, empty field in the middle of nowhere.

They both take jobs as sexers at a local poultry farm where Monica is much slower than her husband but is told that she is “fast enough for Arkansas.” But Jacob is restless and begins to spend more and more time trying to get his ‘garden of Eden’ up and running.

One of the first tasks is to dig a well, and when a dowser comes out to demonstrate his skill at locating water Jacob explains to his young son David that, “Americans believe nonsense, but Koreans use their minds.” The viewer would be forgiven at this stage for thinking that this will become a theme of the film with the Koreans rolling their eyes at the eccentricities of their American neighbors and maintaining an insular distance to preserve their culture, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Rather the theme that develops could be summarized as coexistence without assimilation. The differences between the Koreans and Americans are not ignored, nor are they celebrated; they simply are. When David’s classmate Johnnie asks him why his face is so flat there is no racist animus behind the question, merely childish curiosity. And the two go on to become fast friends. Similarly, Jacob may find his handyman Paul’s tradition of dragging a heavy wooden cross through the back roads of the area each Sunday as very strange, but Paul is a good and loyal worker, so where’s the harm?

Our expectations are further defied with the arrival of Monica’s mother Soonja (played by Yuh-jung Youn in a show-stealing nominated role) from Korea to help look after the kids. We expect a stern, disapproving ‘tiger mother’ but find instead that she is kind-hearted, mischievous, and foul-mouthed in equal measure.

Though 7yo David, whom she had never met before her arrival, is initially stand-offish, the two eventually form a bond and take to going off on exploratory hikes on which Soonja encourages David into more physical activity than his over-protective mother generally allows due to a congenital heart condition.

It is during one of these excursions that Soonja finds a perfect spot on the banks of a creek in the woods to plant the seeds of minari (Korean water chestnut) that she has brought with her from Korea.

Through hard work and perseverance the family seems to be making their way. Monica is accepted at the local church, the kids make friends at school, Jacob and Paul manage to get a crop planted and harvested, and even David’s heart condition seems to be spontaneously healing.

But when disaster strikes and the crop is lost they find that Soonja’s minari - transplanted from Korea - is thriving in America and has spread widely along the creek banks, providing enough of a crop to squeak by.

“Minari” is a quiet, gentle little film that touches upon some large, sweeping themes that we like to think of as American but are really universal: success through hard work and self-reliance, but also the importance of family and community. And, most of all, tolerance of other cultures that is born out of mutual respect. I think we all could do with a bit more of this version of the American Dream right now.

Nomadland blurs the distinction between documentary and feature film. The town of Empire, NV really did essentially evaporate when the local gypsum plant shut down, and most of the people who appear onscreen are actually nomads playing slightly idealized versions of themselves.

The two primary exceptions are Frances McDormand (nominated), as Fern, who blends in so well that many of the nomads didn’t realize she was an Oscar-winning actress and accepted her as one of their own, and David Strathairn as Dave, who sticks out like such a sore thumb that he may as well have ‘ACTOR’ tattooed across his forehead.

The nomads are a cadre of mostly older Americans who have taken to the road in modified vans to eke out a meager existence on the peripheries of society. Fern joins their ranks after the death of her husband leaves her with absolutely no reason to stay in Empire and few resources to resettle anywhere else. After a helpful seminar on what size bucket to shit in and a stern lecture about the necessity of having a spare tire, Fern careens across the American west finding temporary, seasonal work at Amazon fulfillment centers, National Parks, and even Wall Drug.

If I had to summarize “Nomadland” in a single word that word would be ‘bleak.’ Though the nomads form a transient community that is supportive and operates primarily on goodwill and barter, their personal relationships tend to be impermanent (with an over-arching vague promise to meet again ‘down the road’) and their lives tend to be characterized by isolation and desperation, always one medical issue or flat tire away from death.

The film is presented diary style, following Fern’s day-to-day activities over the course of a year, with little narrative superimposed. The closest thing to a plot thread is Dave’s gentle but persistent attempts at a relationship with Fern, which mostly seems inexplicable given that Fern is barely civil to him.

If you are into ‘slice of life’ films that provide a glimpse into another culture then maybe “Nomadland” is for you, but I might recommend upping your Zoloft dosage before watching.

Promising Young Woman introduces us to Cassie (short for Cassandra - the Greek prophetess who was never believed), a woman young enough to still be hot, but old enough to ‘know better,’ who has a very strange hobby: she frequents bars and clubs, pretends to be falling-down drunk, and waits for some ‘nice’ guy to take her home.

When said ‘nice’ guy inevitably makes both his intentions and his lack of concern over her consent known, but before things get too out of hand, she suddenly reveals her stone-cold sobriety and confronts her would-be paramour, much to his consternation and frustration. In the real world one might expect these confrontations to turn violent - either on her part or his - but in Cassie’s world they end with the ineffectual guy feeling chagrinned and Cassie feeling smug.

We gradually learn that Cassie and her lifelong bestie Nina were once promising med students, but Nina got blackout drunk at a party and was gang raped, leading them both to drop out, Nina to commit suicide, and Cassie to resign herself to living with her parents and slumming a dead-end barista job. And that’s just Act 1.

Act 2 sees the introduction of a love interest in the form of a former med-school classmate now turned successful pediatric surgeon, and the pair spiral off into a brief rom-com that seemingly puts Cassie well on her way to healing and getting on with her life.

Then a tragic plot twist (no spoilers here) propels Cassie into an Act 3 full of vengeance and, yes, violence, but probably not quite in the way you were expecting.

“Promising Young Woman” is a searing indictment of the rape culture that values the career prospects of young men over the well-being and even lives of young women. Carey Mulligan stars as Cassie and is remarkable. Her nuanced performance captures a struggle with mental illness along with a parallel struggle to conceal it; her Best Actress nomination is richly deserved. And comedian Bo Burnham shows some surprising acting chops as the love interest.

Overall some of the scenarios portrayed may seem a tad unrealistic (a withering stare seems to be all that is needed to put obnoxious men in their place), but the film creates a self-consistent ethos that makes this forgivable. There is a rich and compelling plot, with a couple great twists leading to a conclusion that is both tragic and oddly satisfying. Though it deals with very heavy subject matter the film never feels preachy or heavy-handed. There are no graphic scenes and no nudity. “Promising Young Woman” manages to be thought-provoking without being gratuitously shocking, which, considering the subject matter, is no mean feat.

Sound of Metal. There is a common story-telling trope that goes like this: take a protagonist who is generally happy and comfortable, suddenly rip them from their familiar surroundings into a strange new world, launch them on a quest to return to their ‘normal’ life, but when they finally achieve that goal have them discover that the journey has changed them to such an extent that they no longer fit into their once-idyllic world. Neil Gaiman has basically made a career out of telling stories of this type.

“Sound of Metal” follows this traditional outline in a very non-traditional way. Ruben, played by Riz Ahmed in a nominated role, is living his best life. A former heroin addict rescued by the love of a good woman, he now tours with her incessantly as the drummer of their heavy-metal duo. It’s just the two of them in their RV, traveling the country, doing shows, and loving each other with no rules or restrictions.

This all comes crashing down when Ruben suffers sudden and almost complete hearing loss. His partner Lou leverages some connections and manages to find him a spot in a deaf community and they drive off to check it out. At this point Ruben is very much thinking this is a temporary condition. A doctor has told him about cochlear implants, which he sees as a panacea to get him back to normal with the only barrier being the expense of the procedure. Lou convinces the reluctant Ruben to stay with the community - at least temporarily while they figure things out - and then flies home to her rich parents’ house.

The community is loosely led by Joe, a stern and wizened figure who basically plays Yoda to Ruben’s Luke. Right off the bat Joe explains that this is an immersive experience, so he confiscates Ruben’s phone and RV keys, and explains to Ruben that the members of the community view deafness as a way of life with a rich culture, not an ailment to be cured.

At first Ruben nods along politely, but is clearly not fully engaged. But gradually he learns sign language and begins to assimilate into the community. A major step in this process is Ruben’s involvement with an associated school for deaf children where he is able to bond with the kids by introducing them to drumming.

Eventually Ruben appears to embrace the community fully to the point where Joe offers him a job so he can stick around permanently. But throughout this entire process Ruben has been secretly plotting to get his old life back. He sells the band’s sound equipment as well as the RV to raise funds for the operation, and sneaks into Joe’s office when no one is looking to access the internet and arrange appointments.

While the surgery is nominally successful and restores some measure of Ruben’s hearing, the results are by no means what he expected.

On the one hand, true to his stated policy, Joe informs Ruben that since he is no longer a part of the deaf community he can no longer stay with them.

And on the other hand, the sound Ruben now hears is mechanical and distorted, and while it works well enough to allow him to carry on a one-on-one conversation in isolation, in any situation with significant background noise - a crowded room, a busy street - the distortion becomes overwhelming and he can barely make out what is being said.

When he is reunited with Lou it becomes clear to him that while she still loves him, she has moved on and prospered professionally and no longer pines for their previous nomadic existence. Finally Ruben accepts that his life is changed and he removes the external sound processors associated with the implants and revels in resulting absolute silence.

“Sound of Metal” is a well-crafted film with all of the requisite components - strong characters, compelling plot, good direction. But the genius of the film is in its sound design. We are frequently put inside Ruben’s head and allowed to hear what he is hearing, often to devastating effect. Early in the film the band is onstage and Ruben is pounding on the drums for all he’s worth, but what we hear is nothing but a muted wumpf wumpf wumpf. Later, after the implants, Lou is singing a beautiful song with her father at a party and Ruben stands in the crowd paying seemingly rapturous attention. Then our sonic perspective is shifted to his and we realize that what he is actually hearing is such a garbled mess that you can barely make on the melody. This powerful device increases our empathy for and understanding of Ruben’s journey throughout the film and serves to make his realization that his life, as he knew it, is over all the more impactful. Truly brilliant work from a film-making craft that is often under-appreciated.

The Trial of the Chicago 7. If the phrase “there’s a lot to unpack here” did not exist then it would need to be invented for this film. With more strong characters with independent backstories and plot threads than an Avengers movie, it is truly a spectacle to behold.

Based on the trial of eight defendants arrested for conspiracy to incite the riots that marred the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, most of the action is set in the raucous courtroom with frequent flashbacks to elucidate specific testimony.

The eight defendants can barely stand one another and have little in common save the notion that war is generally a bad idea. This, of course, is awkward for the Government’s case that they conspired together since by all appearances they couldn’t conspire to order a ham sandwich. Throw in an increasingly unhinged judge and an acerbic defense lawyer who collects contempt citations like Pokemon, and all you can do is sit back and reach for the popcorn.

But this isn’t all fun and games. The reason it is the Chicago 7, rather than the Chicago 8, is because the trial of Bobby Seale, a member of the Black Panther Party and the only Black defendant, was declared a mistrial halfway through the proceedings. Abbie Hoffman (played with typical flamboyant exuberance by Sacha Baron Cohen in a nominated role) wryly observes that Seale was only thrown in to scare the jury; he is not even represented by the same lawyer as the other 7. And since his lawyer can’t be present due to a medical emergency he consistently points out that his right to representation is being violated, much to the consternation of the judge.

This all comes to a head when, after one of Seale’s repeated outbursts, the judge orders him removed from the courtroom and “dealt with.” He returns shackled and gagged, which is a bridge too far for the Federal prosecutor who is already concerned that this trial is being pursued for largely political reasons.

There are some serious and substantive discussions of social issues of the day as well, but for the most part the film is a fast-paced roller coaster ride that is just a lot of fun. With a strong and star-studded ensemble cast (is that Michael Keaton?) and sure-handed direction from writer-director Aaron Sorkin (nominated for writing, not directing) who manages to balance entertainment with a strong message “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is sure to be a crowd-pleaser.

So which SHOULD win?

The two films that I most enjoyed watching were “Mank” and “The Trial of the Chicago 7,” and both for similar reasons: great ensemble casts, compelling stories, quick-witted snappy dialogue. But I think the one that would stand up best to repeated viewings is “Mank,” so that’s my pick.

But which will win?

Much to my befuddlement the clear odds-on favorite to win is “Nomadland,” the only film in the bunch that I did not enjoy. At all. “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is a distant second, but there has been some chatter that it might have a chance due to the new ranked-choice voting. The thinking is that “Nomadland” may well win the first-choice votes, but it’s support in the second- and third-choice slots will drop dramatically, which will allow “The Trial of the Chicago 7” to sneak in due to its broader overall appeal. I think this is wishful thinking and so am holding my nose and going with “Nomadland,” but I would actually be thrilled to be wrong here.

And in the other categories …

Best Actress: This is by far the most interesting and most hotly-contested race between Carey Mulligan for “Promising Young Woman,” and Viola Davis for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.” The smart money is on Mulligan, whose performance is truly strong. But Viola Davis’ transformation is utterly complete and completely breathtaking. So I am going to apply a little wishful thinking of my own and go with Viola Davis. Frances McDormand for "Nomadland."

Best Supporting Actress: 73yo Yuh-jung Youn should win here for her fabulous portrayal of the irreverent grandmother in “Minari.” How cool is that?

Best Actor: Chadwick Boseman will join Heath Ledger as a posthumous Oscar recipient for his role in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” in the closest there is to a sure-thing this year. See this is what happens when you get smug. Anthony Hopkins for "The Father."

Best Supporting Actor: Daniel Kaluuya should beat out his “Judas and the Black Messiah” co-star here. Given the Chadwick Boseman juggernaut for Best Actor the Academy may have done him a favor by nominating him here.

Best Director: *sigh* Chloé Zhao appears to be a shoo-in here for “Nomadland.” I just don’t get it.

Best Original Screenplay: This looks to be a two-way race between “Promising Young Woman” and “The Trial of the Chicago 7,” with the former a clear favorite. No argument from me! Emerald Fennell for “Promising Young Woman.”

Best Adapted Screenplay: Another two-way race between “Nomadland” and “The Father.” Incredibly, “Nomadland” is the favorite (What? There’s no plot! It feels more like surveillance footage than a feature film!) Whatever. Chloé Zhao for “Nomadland.” Hmpf. Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller for "The Father."

Best Documentary: “My Octopus Teacher” should beat out “Time” here.

Best Animated Feature: The Pixar train just keeps on a-rolling with “Soul.”

Best Cinematography: This is between (wait for it) “Nomadland” and “Mank.” Joshua James Richards for “Nomadland.” I give up.

Best Production Design: The stylized 1940s-movie feel of “Mank” should carry Donald Graham Burt and Jan Pascale to a win here.

Best Sound Design: Nicolas Becker, Jaime Baksht, Michellee Couttolene, Carlos Cortés, and Phillip Bladh should be runaway winners for “Sound of Metal.” The sound design really makes that film!

And that’s it for this most terrible of years. Hopefully we’ll be able to watch movies in actual theaters again soon!

[just-jordie-things]

Like She’s Mine (part four) - Stiles Stilinski

wow i got such immediate feedback when i posted part three guys, I thought my phone would literally blow up ur all amazing xx

part one part two part three

warnings: swearing, pregnancy, sadness, lots of time jumping i hope it’s not too confusing

PART FOUR (august)

“SHIT!” I screamed, whipping the apron over my head, and quickly untying it from behind my back.  Allison came running into the store from the back room.

“What? What? What’s going on?” She asked.

“Can you drive me to the airport?” I asked, hanging up the apron and checking my hair in my phone’s camera.

“Sure when-”

“Now” I said.  Allison’s eyes widened.

“N-now-?”

“Stiles is flying out today” I begged.  “Please, please, if Lou catches us, I swear Alli, I will cover for you, I will tell her it’s all my fault, please let me say goodbye” Allison sighed, bouncing on her foot for a moment.  The undoing the knot of her apron.

“Fine.  But you owe me coffee for a week”

“Deal!”

The car ride to the airport was ten minutes.  It was 4:15 now, and Stiles left at 4:30.  My legs were shaking, no, my whole body was shaking.

“Alli, when I next see him, I will have had a baby” Allison parked the car, and looked down at her phone.

“y/n we’ve got six minutes!” She yelled.  We ran out of the car and sprinted through the airport.  “What gate!?” Allison yelled.

“15b!” I said back.  

“y/n we’re not going to make it on time!”

“Yes we will!” I was panting.  Just as we passed 15a, I could see him.  The tall boy with messy soft brown hair.  He was turning, looking everywhere.  A blue paper in his hand, and bags by his feet.  “Stiles!” I yelped, and he spun to look at me.

“y/n!” He called back.  I ran faster until I jumped and was in is arms.  My legs were around his waist and he held me tightly against him.  “I thought you weren’t coming” He cried into my hair.  I shook my head, pulling back and looking at him.  I stood flat on my feet, my arms still wound around his neck.

“Of course I came of course” I cupped his face between my hands for a moment, before letting them fall to his shoulders.  “I couldn’t let you leave me for a year without saying goodbye Stiles”

“If you tell me right now, I’ll stay I swear I’ll figure something else-”

“No, no Stiles I’ve told you all summer this is what you were meant for” You said, rubbing his shoulders slightly.  “And you’re gonna come back next summer, and you’re gonna have the first step of becoming a detective done” I wiped my eyes and stared at him.  “Stiles, I know I’ve told you a thousand times but I’m so incredibly proud of you, this is what you’ve always wanted, and you’ve actually achieved it.  You’ve done amazing, really” He hugged me again tight, and I silently cried, not wanting him to know how much it really hurt.

“Promise me you’ll keep in touch” I nodded.

“Of course”

“And when I come back we’ll pick right back up”

“Stiles it’s not a long distance relationship” I said, laughing through a breath.

“But it is, I just don’t want anything to change” I closed my eyes tight, buying my face further against him.

“Then it won’t” I hummed.

“Take care of Scott for me, Allison can’t handle him on her own” I chuckled slightly, and pulled away, seeing Stiles laugh quietly too.  The brunette a few feet behind me smiled bashfully, and walked up to us.

“Now boarding flight six to DC!”

“That’s you” I said softly, gesturing to the gate.

“Yeah that’s me” He responded.  I hugged him once more, and he squeezed me so tight I almost feared for the baby.  I could tell Allison practically read my mind.

“Alright alright me too” She said quickly, and Stiles released me to give her a hurried side hug.

“Miss you Stilinski”

“You too Argent” He looked at me again, and I gave a small wave.

“I’ll see you later Stiles” I said softly.  He waved back, putting on his backpack, picking up his duffel, and extending the handle of his suitcase.

“You better keep in touch with me y/n”

“Promise” I said, crossing an x over my heart.  I watched as he turned and walked up to the gate, handing the man at the desk his blue ticket.  The man stamped it, handed it back to him, and Stiles made his way onto the plane.  Tears welled in my eyes again.

“Oh, honey” Allison came forward, wrapping her arms around me, and hugging me gently.  “You’ve got me and Scott” She whispered as I cried onto her shoulder.  “We’ll take good care of you” She murmured.  “Whatever you need, we’re here for you, always” I nodded, holding my arms tight around her.  “I told you once how much I loved you and I’m going to give you the support you need, and I still will, I always will”

“Thank you, Allison”

FOUR MONTHS LATER (december)

Apparently, you become a whale six months into a pregnancy.  Yes, of course I knew I’d inflate like a blimp, but god, this was ridiculous.  I gave all my converse and any boots I had to tie to Allison and Lydia.  I couldn’t bend over to tie laces anymore.  My life was quite restricted these days.  Sleeping on my back every night.  No more long showers, my feet would hurt.  I gave up on fashion, because god knows nothing cute fit, and maternity clothes were too expensive to deal with.  I lived in sweats.  I barely went out, too nervous someone would recognize me.  After I found out that I was having a girl, I told Lou about the pregnancy. I was now on maternity leave.

Did I mention I got that apartment? It’s nice, because it’s basically a tiny house.  One floor, and a few rooms.  Two bedrooms, two baths, a nice kitchen connected to the dining room, and a pretty spacious living room.  It wasn’t overly expensive, but it put a slight dent in my bank account.  But once I get the ball rolling, get my job back, and stop having to take thirty pills a day, then I’ll be back on my feet.  Hopefully I can see them at the end of all of this.

Allison and I have been looking through many files of parents who want to adopt.  Here and there I’ll see a nice looking family, but it just never seemed good enough.  I wanted the best for my little girl. and as bitter as it sounds, a family could have five stars, but the mother’s smile could be just slightly downturned, and I’d throw the file away.  Allison would give me a look, but she never mentioned the way I judged the new parents of my child.

I mean, their child, that I was just carrying.

“Honey I’m home!” Allison called with a giggle as she entered the apartment.  She didn’t really live here, but when she wasn’t staying at home or with Scott, you’d find her here.  I smiled and waved from where I lay on my back on the couch.  She set her purse down at the kitchen table and kicked her shoes off by the door.  “How was the day?” The brunette asked.  I barely saw her walking into the kitchen.

“You look nice” I said as I caught a glimpse of her navy blue skirt and red short sleeved knit sweater.  A short sleeved sweater.  Only Alli could make it look normal.

“Yeah I’m going out with Scott tonight, just went on a tiny shopping spree” She said, coming into the living room with a glass of water in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other.  “I’m eating your cookies by the way” She announced, mouth already full.  I shrugged, rubbing my hands over my belly.

“They only sounded good for an hour.  I ate one and was satisfied” I asid.  Allison grinned.

“Good, cause there’s like ten left and they’re really good” i smiled and waved my hand dismissively.

‘Thanks, they’re all yours” I said, and she jumped slightly.  I shook my head as the water came out of her glass and droplets fell onto the carpet.

“Sorry-”

“It’s just water” I said, waving my hand again.

“So how’s baby Allison?” She asked, walking closer and inspecting my stomach.

“We’re not naming her that- we’re not naming her at all” I half scolded, dragging my hands down my face.  Allison frowned.

“Why not? What have we got to lose?”

“Because when you name something, you get attached.  Personally, I can’t afford to get attached to her, so we’re not naming her” Allison sighed.

“Fine” She said, taking another bite from her cookie.  “But I’m still calling her Allison” I rolled my eyes.

“Can you do me a favor and hand me my phone?” I asked, reaching my hand out towards the coffee table where it sat, just out of reach.  Allison nodded, giving it to me.  Five missed texts.  Two from Lydia, one from Stiles.

“I’m gonna go do my hair” Allison announced, heading to the bathroom as I went through my messages.

Lydia: heya girly! How’s the little girly Lydia: (also don’t tell Alli but her name would have been Lydia, not Allison)

I rolled my eyes.  Don’t they get I can’t keep her? She can’t be named.  I clocked on Stiles’ chat.

Stiles: morning sunshine Stiles: you’re probably sleeping.  You have been a lot lately I hope you’re not up all night on your internet college Stiles: I miss you I wish you were here.  Wanna ft later?

I texted back. Saying I was busy with work today, and that I wouldn’t be able to catch a long enough break.  He responded immediately.

Stiles: that means we’re texting all night then, I hope you’ve got K cups left cause you’ll need the caffeine.

I told him that it sounded good, and I’d mark it down in my schedule.  Then again saying that he should get back to class because I knew he was sneaking his phone.

After that I just scrolled through my social media.  Not a lot was there, seeing that I’d just done this a few hours ago, but hey, it was a way to pass the time.  I’d already finished my online classes for the day, and grew bored.  Not a lot for a pregnant girl to do.  Just lay down, watch tv, marvel at how large I’ve gotten, shower shortly, cry while eating ice cream, and pass out randomly.

At least I wasn’t puking anymore.

Eventually I’d gotten myself off the couch, and walked back to my room.  I sunk into the bed, and stuck my feet out in the air.  I laughed to myself at the fact I could only see the blue toes.  Allison painted them last week much to my protests.  She didn’t think that me saying ‘I can’t see them what’s the point?’ was a liable excuse not to do it.  But I chuckled as I continued rocking, sticking my feet out over and over and laughing bitterly.

I did this until I felt a slight pushing sensation in my stomach.  My eyes widened, and a small smile pulled on my lips.  I held my hands over my stomach, feeling another push.

It was a kick.

“You like that Madi?” I asked softly, lifting my shirt just enough to show the skin of my stomach.  I rose my feet again and quickly dropped them, earning another kick.  Tears welled in my eyes.  My little girl was kicking.  My little Madison…

“Hey y/n did you move the hair dry-” Allison walked in, hands holding a towel as she quickly rubbed her hair with it.  I froze, staring at her practically petrified.  She gave me a knowing smile, and crossed her arms.  She looked at me like she just found out my biggest secret.

“I thought we weren’t getting attached?” I whimpered, hanging my head down in my hands.

Shit.

TWO MONTHS LATER (february)

“ALLISON DRIVE FASTER!” I screamed from the backseat of her car.

Okay, rewind to a few hours ago.

Allison was eating lunch with Scott, he’d swung by my apartment to pick her up, and I promptly stayed back in my room so he wouldn't see my baby bump.  Which was actually more like fucking jupiter now.  But I still hollered a goodbye and told them to have a nice time.  I’d laid in the living room, reading a magazine on Brad and Angelina’s divorce, when suddenly-

“Did I just piss myself?” I muttered in embarrassment.  Two seconds later I could’ve sworn someone grabbed my intestines and ripped them out.  Oh no.

I’d hastily but shakily dialed Allison’s number, and told her to get me now.

“Now- now you’re having the baby?” She stuttered.  I could hear Scott yelling in the background but I was freaking out too much to care.

“Yes now and I NEED you to come drive me to the hospital!” I was crying now as the pain of the contractions just worsened.  There was a few muffled whispered that I barely caught wind off, but again I was too hurt to care if Scott knew.

“y/n, y/n we're getting in the car right now it's all going to be okay we're on our way” Allison said calmly.  I could hear the smile in her voice.

“O-okay”

“You want me to stay in the phone with you?” I nodded, before realizing she couldn't see me.

“Ye-yeah yes please yes”

She continued to coo to me, telling me it would be okay, and how there was just a few more moments before she would be here.  I never really responded, I was crying to hard and groaning to much.  I could tell it made her since but she kept her soft tone and sweet words.

I was halfway for passing out when she burst into the apartment, and the world was in slow motion around me.  Allison was grinning, as was Scott but he had eyes that held more questions than I had answers for.  

“Stay awake, stay awake it's okay” Allison’s arms wound around me, leading me out of the room and out of the apartment.

“Hurts-” I whined.

“Shh… shh it's okay” I don't really remember getting into the car.

The next thing I was conscious of was a man in a white coat setting me down into a wheelchair.  He asked me a question I didn't quite hear, and I looked to Allison.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” She said to me.  “He's asking if you want me there” I nodded.

“Please” I whispered.  Allison smiled and nodded back, quietly giving me an ‘of course’ and walking with me as I was wheeled into a room.

Screaming, a lot of screaming I almost thought I was going to die.  It legitimately felt like every bone in my body was breaking.

“y/n, y/n we just need you to take deep breaths, and push”

I didn’t even remember getting onto the cot, or holding onto Allison’s hand but I realized when she yelped.  I squeezed too hard.

“S-sorry” I panted.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re doing great” She assured, squeezing my hand as well.

I think in the three hours it took, I scarred Allison in ways that were irreversible.  The doctors and horde of nurses took my baby to the nursery while I rested.  Allison was sat in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs next to me, still holding my hand on the mattress.

“Does it feel better now?” She asked softly, holding a cool wet rag against my head.  

“Hell yes.  Don’t ever have kids, adopt mine” I chuckled, then felt a pang of regret in my chest.

“What?” Allison asked, brows furrowing in worry.  I raised a brow in silent question.  “You just looked like you were thinking, the hurting kind of thinking” Her fingers stroked gently over the back of my hand.

“Does… does it make me a bad person? Giving away a child?” Allison pondered for a moment, then shook her head.

“No.  If you truly believe you can’t give her the life we know she deserves, then no, it makes you a responsible person” I bit my lip, and her brows furrowed again.  “y/n look-”

“Miss l/n” We looked up to the door, seeing a nurse from earlier in blue scrubs, and holding a pink bundle of blankets.  “I have your baby here, would you like to hold her?” Yes.  But I didn’t answer right away, just continued to think about whether or not I was doing the right thing.  I looked over to Allison, who gave me a sweet smile, as though saying I could choose what I wanted to do.  The woman stood patiently, beginning to softly rock my little girl.

“Yes please” I answered her so quietly I was sure she didn’t hear me, but sure enough she smiled widely and came over to me, carefully placing her in my arms.  Tears grew in my eyes as I looked down at her.  She was beautiful.

She had Theo’s light eyes, but hers a much brighter blue.  Her nose was a tiny button, and her skin was fair.  I could tell her hair would grow to be like mine.

“Wow” Allison whispered next to me, and Madi- the baby’s- eyes went to her.  Instantly she giggled a small hiccup of a laugh, and held her arm out towards my face.  I admit, I cried when I reached my finger to her and she clasped her small hand around it.

“Allison she’s… she’s beautiful” I cried in a whimper.  “Is Scott still here?” I asked, rocking my girl back and forth slightly.

“Yeah, he’s waiting in the hall” She told me.

“You can let him in” I said with a small smile.

“You sure?” I nodded, and Allison stood swiftly and left the room nearly silently.

“Hi Madi” I said softly, smiling down at the girl about to fall asleep in my hold.  “You’re a beautiful little girl” I told her.  “I wish I could have more time with you, I know you’re going to be such a great kiddo” More tears fell down my face, and her smile fell.  She gave my finger a squeeze that was feather light, but noticeable.  “I hope one day-one day-” I choked.  “You’ll let me s-see you” The door opened again, and Allison was smiling, talking with her hands.

“Oh Scott she’s just ador- y/n?” Allison saw me crying and hurried over.  “Hey, hey honey what’s wrong?” She asked.  But I shook my head, unsure of the words to say.  “Hey…. shh it’s okay” She cooed softly, petting my hair, then petting my child’s bald head.  I could see Scott growing closer.  He smiled gently at me, and it was like we were at a silent understanding.  “y/n? What’s going on?” I sniffled, stroking the backs of my fingers against Madi’s face.

“I can’t give her away Alli” I said, tears still rushing down my face.  “I can’t give my little girl away”

drumroll please! aaaaaannndddd BOOM.  CONFLICT!

tagged: @morganschiebel @bunnyboo10154 and @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday

also @celestial-writing bc shes my boo AND the baby is named after her cute ass *muah* :)

[rrrawrf-writes]

home front

(slur tw, mild profanity)

Javed double-parked across the only two handicap spaces in front of the office building and practically fell out of his car. Scopes’ frantic voice still rang in his ears, and he was redialing her number, Mickey’s number, the ops room - anyone as he bolted up the steps to the nondescript building. Not a single one was answered; when he checked his phone, he couldn’t find a single earpiece active that he could connect to.

The front door had been slammed off its hinges. Javed clenched his jaw and shoved his phone back into his pocket, turning it to silent. He replaced it with a handgun.

Scopes hadn’t been able to identify their intruders. If Javed thought he had time, he’d go to access the security feeds, but he tripped over a body as soon as he entered the bullpen - Mickey.

They were only asleep, thankfully. “Corriveau,” Javed said, shaking his shoulder. He frowned when he got no respone, and shook them again, harder, before finally giving into the temptation he had every day and smacking the operative in the face. Mickey just let out a snore. Javed gritted his teeth, and took a precious few seconds to drag them into a corner of the office. They were missing their security badge, but nothing else - something for which Javed was grateful. Mickey was still a junior operative. Their badge wouldn’t get the intruders very far.

But it would still get them far enough.

The bullpen looked as if it had been rampaged by - well, bulls. Desks had been thrown aside, and enough computers and equipment were damaged that Javed was distracted from his operatives’ whereabouts long enough to wince at the idea of reporting this all to accounting. They were going to flay him alive, he thought miserably, and looked down when he stepped on something.

The ground was littered with rubber bullets, which suggested someone had been smart enough to have a gun with them, and unfortunate enough that they didn’t have any live ammo. (Mercury Independent discouraged its employees from killing people if they didn’t have to. Javed had actively yelled at people [Kawai] for keep live ammo. Now he wanted to see these bastards, so he could shove a grenade down their throats.) What Javed had stepped on, though, wasn’t a spent bullet, but a sliver of clear crystal, about as long as his hand.

He had one agent who wouldn’t wake up, and a chunk of fake crystal. Javed pursed his lips and kept moving, readjusting potential strategies with this new information. He thought they were dealing with a rival agency, or maybe some revenge scheme. But no - he was dealing with capes.

The ones who were supposed to be the good guys.

As he followed the trail of chaos down one hall and towards the stairs, Javed stamped down his rage. He couldn’t afford to become angry. Chances were that no one would be killed, not if those damned “superheroes” were involved. He was still tempted to stop and let himself into the armory to get a real loadout, but stopped himself.

Then Javed backtracked and placed his hand flat on the keypad, because there was blood trailing underneath the door.

He found Scopes inside, curled up in the corner. More crystals - smahed, this time - littered the room, and several weapons had been knocked off the wall. There was a disturbing amount of blood, and Javed’s heart was in his throat when he knelt next to Scopes, who didn’t move - but while she was soaked in blood, and her shirt was torn, he couldn’t find any open wounds.

It wasn’t hers, then, or - Sam was here. Was he? Javed couldn’t remember the schedule off the top of his head.

Like Mickey, Scopes wouldn’t wake up. It was with deep misgiving that Javed shut the armory again behind him, scared that maybe he had missed something after all, and Scopes was very slowly bleeding out. He grabbed another gun as he left the room.

Javed knew for a fact that Eli was not supposed to be at the office tonight, but when he reached the stairs leading downward, it was easy to see the man’s handiwork. Holes in the wall, dents and cracks in the floor, the stairwell doors smashed right off their hinges (and, it looked like, probably used to throw at someone). That decided Javed; instead of searching the upper floors, he followed the trail of wreckage down five flights of stairs, and was both unsurprised and furious to find Eli there, dead asleep.

He was stretched out next to someone else Javed had seen on TV, but never in person: a young black woman, wearing her flashy uniform of pinks and yellows and blues. A harness studded with more of the fabricated diamonds wrapped around her chest, and crystals were scattered out on the ground around her sleeping body. The shards littering Eli’s coat suggested she had smashed no few of them against him.

Diamonique was new to the Colorado area. She had transplanted and rebranded herself from California, where she had been known as Gemglow; from what Javed knew, she had left the coast after her identity was leaked. He didn’t see the point, because now she just went by her first name in Colorado anyway. Diamonique did sound better than Gemglow, at least.

He stood there and stared down at her sleeping form for a long time, strangling dark, angry thoughts, and finally left her and Eli to sleep off whatever had befallen them. Hopefully Eli would wake up first - but now Javed knew that whoever was putting people to sleep could’t re-awaken them, or else there wouldn’t be any reason to leave Diamonique there, bleeding sluggishly from her nose. He hoped it had hurt. He hoped she never -

“I’m not authorized to get in there, you morons, I told you.”

Sam’s voice. Javed quickened, rushing a bit unwisely around a corner, and stopped when he saw a bulky, redheaded woman punch Sam across the face.

Sam staggered into the vault door at the end of the hall, a sickening crack making Javed flinch. Already, though, the damage was healing over, and Sam straightened up, glaring at the woman. His hands were cuffed in front of him. A smaller, blond man stood at her elbow, and he turned to see Javed as the woman - Comet, Javed recognized - demanded, “Who the hell is, then?”

Sam followed the other man’s gaze to see Javed, and he cracked a grim smile through the blood covering his face. “He is.”

Comet sneered. “MI would hire a damn hadji.”

“Comet,” murmured her companion, “that’s not necessary.”

“Shut up, Hypnos.” Comet grabbed Sam and dragged him closer. “Want your little buddy back? Come open the doors.”

Javed stared at them through a red haze, blood pounding in his ears. Hypnos was edging forward, both hands flexing; one touch from him would put Javed out like a light. He raised one of his pistols, and Hypnos stopped instantly.

Comet glowered and tugged Sam in front of her. “Drop the weapons,” she snapped. “I’m sure I could kill this bastard eventually.”

Sam snorted a laugh. Javed wasn’t in the mood to see him be pummeled into the floor, though, so he merely said, “Catch.”

“What?” Hypnos, startled, took a step backwards when Javed flicked both pistols through the air. He caught them both against his chest, barely, and then Javed did the most dangerous thing he could have done.

He took off his glasses.

Hypnos looked up, briefly confused, and had the misfortune of meeting Javed’s gaze, as he dropped his glasses on the floor. He froze instantly, and there was one brief moment while Javed’s power wrestled for control. It was easier for Javed to mimic Hypnos’ pose, and his right leg slid back a little, his hands curling around guns that he did not hold, but Hypnos now did.

And then everything snapped into place, and Javed had him.

“Hyp?” Comet demanded, taking a step forward with Sam towed along like a rag doll. “What’s going on?”

Javed straightened out his arm. Hypnos followed suit, mimicking his motion exactly as sweat poured down his face. The cape pointed one of the handguns right into Comet’s face, and she stopped, taking a step back and tromping all over Sam’s feet. “Hypnos? What the hell?”

“Don’t move.” Hypnos and Javed spoke in unison, the former’s voice ragged and reluctant, as if every word had to dragged out of him with a hook. Javed couldn’t help but feel a deep, dark satisfaction at the absolute terror on Hypnos’ face as the cape realized that he was well and truly caught. Slowly, Javed dragged his other arm up, until the second gun Hypnos held was pressed against the side of his own head.

Comet and Sam both stared. “What - What the hell are you doing to him?”

“Let my operative go,” Javed said, Hypnos copying the same words in a hushed voice, “or I shoot you both.”

Comet definitely looked nervous - but then she let out a laugh, albeit one that sounded forced and worried. “Bullets don’t hurt me -”

“You’re super-strong,” Javed interrupted. “Not invincible. Pointblank shots with armor-piercing rounds will kill you.”

Comet definitely looked worried now.

“I have your whole damn life on file,” Javed said. He wanted to stare Comet down, but he couldn’t break eye contact with Hypnos for longer than the time it took to blink. “Don’t think we haven’t figured out any weaknesses you have.”

There was a long moment of silence, before Sam made a sudden, startled grunt as Comet yanked him around, putting him between herself and the gun Hypnos pointed at her. “Go ahead, shoot your friend,” she sneered.

“He would survive,” Javed said flatly, Hypnos echoing the words. “You would not.”

Sam did not look worried about being used a human shield - if anything, he seemed minorly inconvenienced. “It’s true.”

“I don’t think your teammate appreciates your lack of concern for his own situation,” Javed went on, shifting his other arm. Hypnos and he both flinched involuntarily as the second pistol dug further into the blond hair just above Hypnos’ ear. Of course, Javed was safe - there was nothing between his hand and head but empty space.

Silence reigned for almost a minute. Comet was clearly weighing her options, but she did not possess any weapons of her own, besides her own strength (and maybe Sam, Javed allowed). Tears and sweat both were running down Hypnos’ face at this point, something Javed allowed himself to revel in before he locked down that dark part of his mind. Finally, finally, Comet let go of Sam.

“Get the cuffs off him,” Javed ordered. With a furious glare, Comet grabbed Sam again and simply tore off the handcuffs, probably breaking the black man’s wrists in the process. Sam, to his credit, winced, but didn’t make a sound. Javed resolved to take him out and get the poor guy black-out drunk - he deserved it, at this point.

Hypnos was about a yard in front of Comet and Sam. Once the latter had edged away from the two capes, his hands tucked against his chest as they healed, Javed took a careful step back. Hypnos followed the same movement, getting closer to Comet. She was cornered against the vault, and ground her teeth. “What are you doing?” she sneered at Javed. He opened his hands.

Both guns clattered from Hypnos’ grip, but before Comet could move, he followed Javed’s motion and latched onto her bare wrist. Javed was relieved to discover that Hypnos’ power didn’t need a trigger - a bare second of hanging on, and Comet crashed to the floor, unconscious.

“Search him,” Javed ordered Sam. “Then cuff him. We’ll lock them up and call legal.”

Sam eyed Javed for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was tense and wary, as it always was when people saw what Javed could do. “Yes, sir. You want your glasses back?”

“Please.”

[slyreaderslibrary]

CH. 9 Rumors

AO3: Here

Fanfiction: Here

Summary: Keeping a secret identity secret is normally hard enough but when you’re as beautiful as Minako Aino you’re bound to have all kinds of creeps and weirdo stalking your every move. Now there’s a cop hot on her trail and she’ll have to be quick on her feet if she’s to keep her identity on the DL. Just what is a gorgeous super-heroine to do?

Keisuke walked up to a nondescript apartment building on the corner of two minor streets with a 7-Eleven a few blocks down. He knocked on the appropriate door and waited until Ueda answered it shortly after, swinging the door wide open to reveal a mass of reddish blond curls atop a rather disheveled, scrawny looking man.

"Finally!" Ueda huffed, waving him in, "I was beginning to think you'd never show. Some of us do have other things to do you know?"

Keisuke clasped his hands behind his back and stepped into the open floor styled apartment. "I apologize for my tardiness. There was an incident on the Rainbow Bridge."

"Traffic accident?"

"No, jumper."

Ueda pursed his lips. "I suppose you were able to talk him down given that you're here now and not calling to reschedule again." He gestured for the detective to sit on the couch and then took the chair adjacent to him.

"He's alive," Keisuke confirmed, not bothering to go into details. "But I'm not here to talk about him. What can you tell me?"

Ueda nodded and then stood, walking into another room to retrieve something.

"By the way, can I offer you anything to drink?" Ueda asked upon reappearing, holding a thin silver laptop.

"No thank you."

"Well then, let me just…" Ueda took a seat and opened the laptop, typing for a few minutes, and then twisted the screen to face him.

Keisuke adjusted the screen and skimmed over the contents, clicking the cursor now and then and scrolling down until he reached the bottom of the file. When he had finished, he pushed the laptop back towards Ueda and sat back in his seat as he processed the information.

"Has this been cross verified?"

"Several times over." Ueda raised a pointed brow, "The data wasn't difficult to collect. I'm surprised the police haven't noticed a similar pattern yet."

"We knew about the populated locations trend. Terrorists generally tend to target areas with high foot traffic. That pattern grew less consistent though when they began targeting single individuals." Keisuke gestured towards the laptop. "I was unaware however, that there were momentary spikes in radiation levels before each attack."

"Not just radiation," Ueda corrected, "although I think it's safe to attribute those to your "so-called" youma. There's also usually several adjacent spikes in energy levels following that burst of radiation that I've concluded belong to the Sailor Senshi."

Keisuke scoffed. "The Senshi are nothing but an urban legend."

"Oh?" Ueda ran his fingers over the keyboard in rapid succession and then twisted the laptop back towards Keisuke. "What do you call them then?"

Keisuke looked to see five women—all dressed in ridiculously short and colorful skirts—yelling at something just off screen. The camera shook as the videographer crept closer, its lens zooming in on the two nearest; a short, blue haired woman and another one with long golden hair. Keisuke's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Something about the blonde seemed familiar but he wasn't sure what. The video continued for another few seconds until one of the women raised her hands and then the video cut off.

"Well?"

Keisuke eyed the other man staring at him expectantly. "All I saw were a bunch of women running around in colorful costumes."

Ueda threw his hands in the air with a disgruntled groan. "You can't film them when they use their powers! It fries the electrical systems if the youma's radiation hasn't fucked it all up already!" He crossed his arms and shot Keisuke a look of contempt. "There's too many stories, too many eye witness accounts for them to be just dismissed as an urban legend and yet no one has been capable of capturing their images. Surely an intelligent man, such as yourself, isn't ignorant enough to outright ignore the possibility of their existence?"

Keisuke frowned, touching the hidden flash drive in his pocket. The camera feed from the bank had been fried following him sucker punching the first robber to the ground but there hadn't been anything or anyone supernatural there. Sometimes technology just crapped out. Then again...something had twisted the AR-15s' barrel unnaturally.

"I can see you've remembered something," Ueda smirked. He handed him a small flash drive. "I took the liberty of making you a copy of my files. Use them wisely detective."

"Not so fast," Keisuke said, eyeing Ueda suspiciously, "If they can't be caught on camera, how'd you manage that video?"

"Please," Ueda drawled, "I'm a genius. I rigged my camera to withstand the initial bursts of radiation and energy surges in order to catch those few seconds. Didn't last long mind you," he shrugged, "but I think it did the job."

Keisuke nodded, satisfied, and pocketed the flash drive alongside his other one and then stood to leave.

"I'll be sure to give this to our analysts and credit you for the information. It may not be able to prevent anything but it will certainly improve our response time. Thank you."

Ueda waved him off. "Just doing my civic duty and all that."

"Yes, well, I and my fellow officers at the TCPD appreciate it."

Keisuke left Ueda's and headed directly for his precinct, hoping to catch Goto before the day's end.

…

Goto had already left for the day by the time he arrived, so he spent the rest of his day filling out paperwork and reviewing his notes. He was just dropping off a short briefing on Commissioner's desk over what he'd learned at Ueda's when Tsuji Gorou, another detective he partnered with some times, walked over to him.

"A few of us are going out tonight to that new club that just opened. You in?"

Keisuke gave the other man a flat look.

"Why would I want to waste my personal time surrounded by drunken idiots?"

Gorou laughed. "Don't be like that. It'll be fun, I swear! Plus, rumor has it several well known celebrities will be in attendance tonight, including your pretty blonde suspect."

Keisuke shot Gorou another look but eventually agreed to go although given her recent history, he wasn't sure if he hoped Aino would be there or not.

~~~

Minako groaned and rolled over, blindly searching for her phone for a few seconds before dragging it to her line of vision. Her notifications indicated she'd gotten several texts. She yawned and opened her text window.

Hey Gurl! Where r u?

Get down x already!

Y's waitin 4 u!

If u don't want him, Ill take him :P

That's right, she'd promised to make an appearance at that new club. Shoot.

Minako flopped back onto her pillow and checked the time. It was barely nine thirty. She could probably swing it.

She hopped out of bed with more energy then she had to spare and slipped into the bathroom to splash some water on her face and add some mascara and glittery gold eyeshadow to her eyes before donning a new backless black dress she'd been dying to wear. A spritz of perfume and a twist of her hair and she was ready to go.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Minako rolled her eyes and turned to see Artemis entering from the window.

"I promised I'd stop by that club tonight, remember?"

Artemis rolled his eyes and hopped onto her bed.

"And I said you needed rest, remember?"

"I've been sleeping since I got home. Besides," Minako said, striking a pose, "I'm already all brushed up!"

"It's dolled up," Artemis huffed.

"Which I am!" Minako grabbed her phone and slipped it into her purse. "Anyway, got to go. Don't wait up!"

…

"I'll get us some drinks!" her friend Momo yelled over the beats of the DJ. Minako nodded that she understood and moved to find them a table. Although she had promised the owners of Kismet that she'd be attending tonight, it had been much too crowded to reserve them any.

Minako paused in her search to take a quick selfie, flashing her signature V and a cheeky grin. She checked the image, chose a light filter, and then posted it to her Instagram with a #girlsjustwannahavefun tag.

"Hey beautiful," said a voice to her right.

Minako turned to see who had addressed her and noted a muscular man in a tight tee. He had a couple friends behind him who weren't quite as built as him but didn't look like they'd been skipping the gym either.

"Are you looking for a place to sit?" asked the man upon catching her attention. "Because my face has a vacancy."

Minako made a face at the crude pickup line but attempted to turn him down gently.

"Sorry, I don't go home with strangers."

She turned to walk away but a grip on her arm prevented her from getting any further.

"Don't be like that baby," said the man, "Stay and chat with me awhile. Get to know me."

Minako slipped her arm from his grasp and put her hands up in front of her, hoping to placate the jerk. She needed to end the interaction quickly before Momo showed back up and the creep got his hands on her as well but Minako also couldn't afford to make a scene in such a public space.

"I'm sorry but I'm here with a friend. I really have to go."

"And I think you should stay."

The asshole moved to grab her again when another club patron stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"She's not interested bud. Move along."

"Who the fuck are you twiggy? I could snap you in half like," the asshole snapped his fingers and smirked but the other man merely laughed.

"I'd like to see you fucking try."

That was all the incentive muscle head needed as he lunged for the other man but the other man was faster and dodged, sending the idiot running into several patrons nearby and ripping the dress of one woman as he attempted to regain his balance.

The woman screamed, drawing the attention of those around her, including her date who then proceeded to take a swing at the muscle head who dodged and shoved the woman's date into the man he'd originally been fighting, as well as several others. His asshole friends jumped to either side of him causing the first man's buddies to join in and transforming the fight into an all out brawl with the addition of the date, who was quick to jump back into the thick of things punching whoever came within arm's reach, which at one point happened to be Minako.

Minako dodged the punch—and dodged a few more things as well—and scanned over the chaos breaking out in search of her friend. Women were shrieking and running away, one man broke a chair on another man's back, and at least two men were on the ground pummeling others but there was no Momo. Minako ducked behind a corner and scrutinized the mess a little closer. There! Momo had hidden behind the bar while the bartender and bouncer attempted to help break things up.

Minako started to go to her but was again prevented from leaving by a grip on her arm.

"And where do you think you're going,"leered the jerk who started it all, pulling her towards him.

"Let her go," demanded a familiar baritone and Minako was more than a little relieved to see it was the detective of all people.

The jerk dropped her arm and to take a swing at the detective but Detective Koizumi merely leaned back a few inches, avoiding the blow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Detective Koizumi warned him but this only infuriated the other man more. He took several more swings, all easily dodged with a step here or there until eventually Detective Koizumi just smirked and caught the attacker's fist in one hand before twisting it around and making the other man cry out in pain.

"Attacking an officer is guaranteed jail time, you know." He pulled out his handcuffs from his jacket and cuffed his attacker behind his back before turning steel grey eyes on Minako. "Are you alright Aino-san?"

"I'm fi—watch out!"

Minako yanked the detective towards her, throwing him off balance and out of the way of the jagged end of a broken bottle. His leather jacket wasn't as lucky.

Another man tackled the assailant from behind, disarming him in the process.

"Keisuke you okay?"

"Yeah," Detective Koizumi said, inspecting the large gash in his jacket. He frowned and then threw out a hand to help the other man up. " Thanks for the assist Gorou."

"No problem," Gorou grinned. "Aren't you glad you came out now?"

Minako watched in amusement as the detective leveled his friend with a flat stare while several other officers rounded up brawlers in the background. She should probably see to her own friend since the fight seemed to be calming down.

"Thanks for your help detective," Minako smiled, flushing just the slightest when both men turned to look at her. She raised her brow knowingly and inwardly cheered when both men leaned closer. "Your timing was impeccable as always."

"I wouldn't need to be if you could manage to stay out of trouble," Detective Koizumi smirked, shrugging out of his jacket. He grabbed something out of its pocket and then draped the jacket over her shoulders. "Here. Although it's torn, it'll help. I'm sure you'll be chilly in that dress once the adrenaline runs out."

This time Minako did blush fully but she pulled the large jacket tighter over her shoulders anyways. "Thank you." She hesitated for a moment and then pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight."

Minako fled the scene as quick as her legs could take her.

[sending-the-message]

Be Careful Little Mouth What You Say by spaswimmer1023

I’ve always been creeped out by open casket funerals. I know the dead are supposed to be at peace, but I can’t get over the fact that as a child, my sister would play dead and scare the shit out of me. Now, each time I have to attend a funeral, I’m always afraid that their eyes are going to spring open and I’m going to have the same reaction. Honestly, I wish that would have happened instead.

I walked carefully down the aisle of the church. The sun poured through the stained glass windows making the designs dance on the red carpet. It was silent. No one had arrived yet and I was alone with my grandmother. My step-father picked out a crisp, white casket for her. It was decorated with her favorite sports memorabilia and pictures of family. She looked different. Her face was flattened and her hands were gray. Her hand lay flat on her chest. She looked nothing like the woman that had loved me for many years.

I stood there thinking about the first time she met me. I was three and my mom and step-dad had just started dating. Things were getting serious so my dad brought over his parents to meet my mom’s parents. As usual, I took the spotlight and made sure they knew exactly how things were going to go. I was pretty sassy back then. Instead of writing me off, my grandmother took me aside and asked me how I felt about the whole situation. In my three year old brain, I tried to explain how I felt. Even though, I’m sure it didn’t make sense, she tried her best to make me feel heard. Throughout my childhood, I struggled to fit in with my family. I was always an odd duck and physically appeared differently from my family. The only person that never gave me a hard time was my grandmother.

Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I’ve lost the one person that makes me feel whole. My one advocate in this life. When my sister randomly told me one day that I had a different dad, my grandmother took me out for ice cream while I cried until I felt like my heart broke in half. My mom continuously lied to me about his identity. She would get angry with me when I asked about it. My grandmother, though, would just hug me and told me she loved me.

I heard the door open in the back of the chapel and saw the pastor making his way to the pulpit. I wiped my eyes and turned to greet him. He told me how sorry he was for my loss and we spoke briefly about the structure of the service. One by one people started filing in. I watched as they all peered into the casket to get a better look at her. I saw some people I hadn’t seen in years and others that I wished I could wait to see for another ten years. We sang some songs and the pastor gave his eulogy. Then, it came time for each row to say their final goodbye walking by the casket. My siblings and I sat at the front row. I could feel the tears starting to swell back up inside me. As we neared the casket once again, my eyes caught a white envelope with my named scrawled on it. I quickly snatched it out of my grandmother’s dead hands and moved quickly out the back door of the church.

I continued on with the rest of the festivities that day, but I couldn’t help but replay the events to know how that paper got in her casket. I watched everyone go up there and didn’t see anything. My name was written in my grandmother’s handwriting. It’s unmistakable as she is left handed and tends to smudge. As soon as it was acceptable to leave, I rushed home to read the letter.

“My Dearest Emily, If you are reading this, I know that you are hurting. Life is so short and you always think that you have more time. Somehow, I didn’t have time to tell you this. Please, try not to think of me any differently. I love you and I always will. I’m partially to blame for the reason your mother will not talk about your biological father. He’s a bad man, Emily. Nothing good can come from him. My history with his family starts before your birth.

In 1992, I started attending the church that his father pastored. While I was there, I was offered a position to work as a secretary at the church. Your grandfather warned me to be careful and I didn’t listen to him. I found out things about the pastor that I could never forget. I saw him do things that I could never erase. Your mother had recently started going to this church. She was newly divorced and attending a single mother’s group. This group was led by the pastor’s son. He believed that having a strong male influence would provide comfort and guidance for these vulnerable women. One by one, Emily, the women started to become pregnant. As soon as they did, they were ridiculed by the pastor and his son. Eventually, they would be chastised so badly that they left the church and were never heard from again.

One day, I came in to the church early because I needed to set up a breakfast for some of the older ladies at the church. I saw that the pastor’s light was on and headed that direction to tell him good morning. As I looked in the small window on the door, I saw the pastor’s son being physical with your mother. She lay limp on the floor. He caught a glance of my face in the widow and the door flew open. He dragged me in the room and tied me to a chair and put a gag in my mouth. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t help your mother. The pastor’s son took advantage of your mother and all I could do was sit there. I’m sorry to tell you these details, dear, but they are important.

Once he was finished with his gruesome act, he threatened both of us that if we were to report this, we would both be killed. Shortly after, your mother told me that she was pregnant with you. I felt responsible for making sure that she was safe. When she left the church, I made sure to keep up with her and ensure that you all were safe. I have continued to receive threats ever since that day. Once per year, on the day of the incident, I would get a letter. It read, ‘Oh be careful little mouth what you say. Oh be careful little mouth what you say. For the Father up above is looking down in love. Be careful little mouth what you say.’ There was no return address, but I could only assume it was from your biological father.

Do you remember when your grandfather passed away? It was not an accident, sweetheart. I told him about this incident not long before he died. He became enraged and reported the incident to the police. The same note was left with your grandfather’s body when I found him at the kitchen table. It was ruled a heart attack, but I know your father killed him. He also killed me.

I appeared to have cancer, but I was actually being poisoned. Your father called me one night demanding to know where you were. I did not want him to be able to find you so I refused to tell him. The next day, I spoke with an old friend from the church. What a mistake. Towards the end of the conversation she started crying and then your father’s voice appeared on the phone. He said that I had to pay for what I had done. I wrote this all down so that you could know the truth. Your mother is next, dear. It might be too late already.

Protect yourself, Emily. You are the only baby that was not raised by him. He took all the others and the only people that know about them are dead. He has tortured dozens of women and has made sure that they will never speak of it again. Your father has separated from the church and formed his own movement. He has so many people that will protect him. I’m not there to protect you anymore. Please, take care of yourself. He is not what he appears to be. I made sure to give this note to someone that would make sure you got it. I’ll be seeing you.”

As my tears fell on the note on the table, my whole world came to a crashing halt. For years I fought with my mom for thinking she was keeping information from me. In reality, she was saving my life. My heart started breaking for what my mom and grandmother went through. I hated the way I acted about the situation. How could someone do something like this?

For a moment I realized that I had no idea what this man looked like. Had I met him before and didn’t know it? I live alone and the reality that I was in danger started to sink in. A panic fell over me and I picked up my phone to call my mom to make sure she was safe. The phone rang continuously, then, my mom answered.

“Hello?” she said.

“Mom? Are you ok? I just read a really scary note from grandma. Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” I said, starting to cry once again.

My mom’s voice started to crack. I could tell she was about to cry. “Emily, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

I could hear shuffling as the phone was transferred. “Hi, pumpkin. It’s daddy. Once I finish up with your mom I’ll be right over. We can catch up.”

The call ended and my heart sank. I’m now in my car darting over to my mom’s house. For some reason I can’t get through to dispatch when I call 911. Could someone, please, help me? I don’t know what to do.