#how do they rationalize Nick staying through all of that when he absolutely didn’t in the comics? FOR A GOOD REASON LOL

[writhingcreature]

I love Tao so much but what the fuck was the ending of episode 7 actually

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Romanced! Male!Companions react to Sole/Lone/Six being unable to walk the morning after.

I’ve got M!Companions from FO4, FO3, and FONV here, but let me know if you guys want me to include anyone else at all! 

Might be just a little NSFW?

;)

Fallout 4 --

Danse: 

     Danse would feel absolutely horrible. After the initial flush on his cheeks at the mention of sex, his expression would turn to one of devastation. There honestly wouldn't be any sense of satisfaction whatsoever at having hurt you, and he would internally berate himself for not being as attentive to you, and as aware of your reactions as he should've been. That day he would tell you to take it easy and he would be at your constant beck and call in an attempt to make it up to you. He would spend all day beside you, working on cleaning and repairing your weapons and armor, engaging in idle conversation, and maybe listening to the radio. The next time you two are intimate he will be exceedingly gentle with you, and will take extra care to ensure you are more prepared for him before really getting into it.  

Deacon: 

     He would feel really bad to have hurt you enough to impact you like this, but also he would feel just a small twinge of satisfaction at having been able to do so. He'll do his best to take care of you after you tell him about it though, spending the whole day with you in bed, just chatting away, playing little games with you, like “two truths, one lie” or 20 questions and the like. When the time does come for you two to be intimate again, he'll have you take the lead a few times in a row to get an idea of your preferred pacing so he can replicate it better and hopefully not hurt you in the future. But, and he's not particularly proud of this, he will ask your permission to tell some of the others back at HQ what had happened. (He just really just wants to see the look on Carrington’s face, and prove a certain something to Glory about his anatomy. But, of course, he wouldn’t use your name if you didn't want him to. Discretion is this man’s forte, after all).

 Hancock: 

     Is it still considered aftercare if it happens the day after you've had sex? Well, whatever it’s called, Hancock would do all that he can to make up for how he had made you feel. He should know better after all by now, he would feel horrible and try to think back to the way you had reacted to some of his movements in an effort to pinpoint what exactly had hurt you so he could make sure to never do it again. If you wanted chems to numb the pain, he'll surely offer them, and besides that, he'll spend the whole day just looking after you. Holding you close, telling you jokes and stories, making you food, maybe giving you a message, just anything to make you feel better. And when you two are intimate again, he'll be sure to make it up to you. Big time.

 MacCready:

     Initially, he might feel a distinct sense of pride at having rendered you immobile with his vicious love, but once his brain wraps around the fact that you're actually in pain, he'll feel pretty bad. Maybe not as bad as he should, which he tries to hide, but it's pretty obvious given his little grin he has plastered on his face all day. But he’ll be sure to take good care of you, grabbing snacks and refreshments before curling up next to you with a couple of comic books, really just taking full advantage of the day off. From now on, when the two of you do have sex, he will try to prevent this from happening again by having you be in control for the most part, at least until he learns your body and its limits a bit better. He still might not completely ease up, but he’ll at least make it seem like he’s not as proud of what he’d done as he actually happens to be. And just a heads up, he may just bring up the fact that he was the one who “loved you so hard that you couldn’t walk” at every given opportunity, so just be aware of that.

Nick: 

     The poor old detective would feel dreadful, this was part of the reason he'd been hesitant to engage in physical acts of intimacy with you in the first place. Even if you assured him it was nothing more than some temporary soreness, he'd have trouble rationalizing being with you intimately for a little while. He would also take an easy day himself so he could keep an eye on you and get you whatever you might need. When you did manage to convince him that you would be okay to have sex again, he would be overly tender and gentle, just to make sure that you know how much your well-being means to him, and to assure you that he would never repeat the actions that had ended up hurting you ever again. As far as he was concerned, he wanted you to wake up feeling good after being with him, to feel satisfied and giddy and maybe just a little tired, but certainly not in pain. 

Preston: 

     Oh lordy, good luck trying to get him to touch you again after he finds out that he hurt you. Initially, his brain would send a little spark of pride to the forefront of his mind when you first told him, but his conscious self would instantly shut it down, disgusted by the fact that it was present at all. He would insist you take the whole day off and would try to keep up on his work while also looking after you in every way possible. You'll really have to work to get him to be with you intimately again anytime soon, as he'll be quite worried about you, and once you do manage to convince him, he'll be extraordinarily gentle and slow. He's very sweet, but you'll have to be patient with him as he pauses with every heavy breath you release, or gasp you take, or moan you utter. Even good noises are scary for him, but don't worry, he'll get back to his usual pace eventually, and now be extra aware of your every reaction to him; which, as it turns out, can be quite handy. 

X6-88: 

     The courser will be conflicted. On the one hand, you were aware that X6’s lovemaking is rough, you've known that from the start, so the two of you wouldn’t be unused to scenarios like this occurring. However, for it to have escalated to physically impairing you enough to prevent you from walking… that made him feel an ache of regret in his chest. Luckily, X6 doesn't miss a thing, and likely will recall which aspects of the night had led to this specific outcome, and he would try to eliminate those factors from future interactions. As for now, he will ensure that you are safe, and as comfortable as possible; he will guard you as you take the day to rest, and will fetch you anything that you require. Normally, when you were hurt, he would recommend paying a visit to the Institute medical facility, but in this case… he would rather try and help you himself if it comes to it. You’re not entirely sure if it’s because he’s embarrassed, or just possessive over certain areas of your body now, but you’d say his crimson cheeks were a bit of a giveaway.  

Fallout 3 --

Butch: 

     On the outside, he would be the prime example of the sympathetic boyfriend. He would apologize and spend the day cuddling with you, playing with your hair, eating snack cakes and drinking nuka cola. On the inside, however, he would feel a certain sense of fulfillment, and would have to consciously hold back the wicked grin that threatened to spill onto his lips at the thought of his lovemaking being wild enough to make it so that you couldn’t walk. He certainly wouldn’t actively try to do it again, but he also wouldn’t necessarily try to prevent it from happening, so just be prepared for anything. But whether or not he’s successful in making you sore again, he’ll fully dedicate himself to caring for you afterwards, ensuring that you’re comfortable and content in his arms at the end of each night. 

Charon:

     The ghoul can’t say he’s surprised, he did warn you that this might happen, after all. His previous sexual experiences have all been initiated by past employers, so most of them have ranged from pretty negative ordeals to downright violent encounters, and though he'll try to leave that in the past, it's tough for him to let go of it completely since it’s really all he knows. That being said, he will still feel bad about hurting you, and will really try to take more care the next time the two of you are intimate. You'll have to work together on communication and focus more on foreplay in the future, but Charon aims to please, and would never purposefully try to hurt you (unless, of course, if you told him you were into it ;). 

Jericho:

     He’ll honestly just grin nice and big when you tell him. Sorry. If you wanted tenderness and sympathy, you should probably look into being with someone else. Jericho would consider this to be an achievement on his part, and assure you that this was a sign that the two of you had really done it right. He might complain a bit about having to stay in for the day, but that doesn't mean he won't still take care of you, in his own sort of way. He'll offer you a drink (or a few), or a cigarette (or a whole pack), and would probably just end up falling back into bed next to you and taking a nice, long nap at your side. He wouldn't really promise to change anything the next time the two of you have sex, but he might try to reassure you that it will get easier with more "practice."

Fallout New Vegas --

Arcade:

     Oh, he would definitely laugh, because it's a joke. Obviously you're joking with him… right? No!? But-- how? He would be confused by this, and too busy thinking through what he possibly could have done to make you physically unable to walk, to actually address the issue. Once he snaps out of it, he'll ask if you're okay and try to keep his snarky and sarcastic quips to a minimum for the day. As much as Arcade loves giving you a hard time in general, this time he'd be too embarrassed to bring it up. In the event that you do mention it, you'd best be prepared for the pink hue that would adorn, not just his cheeks, nor even his face, but his entire body. When the two of you do have sex again, Arcade will be happy to let you take the lead so you can better control the pacing and keep from hurting yourself at all, (which really is just a win-win scenario, considering the fact that he really prefers you being in control anyway.)

Boone:

     His brows would furrow at the news, barely noticeable through his sunglasses, but he would simply set down his rifle and bag and settle back into bed with you. The ex-soldier would curl his arms around you and stay beside you for the remainder of the day, rubbing his arms along your body comfortingly. He’s not big on small talk, but Boone would love to just sit and listen to you ramble all day long. When the evening comes, he’ll be sure to get up and make you both dinner before encouraging you to go to sleep early. Despite his stoic exterior, he's actually quite the tender caretaker. The next time you two are intimate together, he'll consciously focus on being more gentle and controlled with his movements, and certainly won't be shy in making sure you're properly "prepared" for him when he does get a little more rough. 

Raul:

     Aw, the poor old ghoul would feel horrible about hurting you, the ridge above his eyes would crinkle upwards as he flashed you a sympathetic smile. He'd be a little embarrassed about it as well, feeling like it was rude of him to let his self-control slip enough to have ended up hurting you. He'd take care of you for the day, taking the opportunity to tidy up your living space as he chats with you about anything and everything, telling you stories of his life from before the bombs dropped, teaching you some words in Spanish, and telling cheesy jokes to make you laugh. He would give you a bit of time to recover before agreeing to sleeping with you again, and this time he would suggest either you taking the lead, or using a safe word in case his control started slipping again. 

[mshermia]

LYKHIW Timeline - WIP Page

Welcome! This post records the status and progress of my work expanding my Post-Endgame (MCU) series to “Like You’d Know How It Works”.

I left the cinema post-Endgame incredibly mad and disappointed. After I aired my immediate frustration with the movie in two One-Shots, I decided for my own peace of mind, I had to try and salvage the mess that was Endgame somehow, because I simply like the characters too much, not to. A week after I started writing, I published the first chapter on AO3. About a year later, I felt the need to expand on the original fix-it. I have and will continue to add to this timeline, writing different adventures that will mostly focus on Tony Stark and Peter Parker.

Genre: MCU fanfiction

The Fix-It

Like You’d Know How It Works (completed)

Setting: sets in right after the battle at the Compound is over, supersedes the concluding events of Endgame.

Premise: Straight after the battle is won - or lost, depending on your perspective - Peter tries to convince the Avengers to save Mr. Stark by going back into the Quantum Realm.

Tropes: time-travel, quantum realm, protective Peter

Mood: grief & loss, hope, family

Someone had organized this room at Metro General hospital for them to sit and talk. Sitting was not an option for Peter though. He couldn’t bear to sit. He couldn’t bear to have anyone look at his injuries either, not when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“You said that whatever we do in the past will not change our present!” Peter’s fist hit the table with a crash. They simply weren’t listening. His face felt grimy and tight in places where the dirt from the battlefield stuck to the tears he had cried over Mr. Stark’s body. Maybe he should have thought of washing the traces off his face before confronting a few of the Avengers and Doctor Strange. It might have made him seem a little more collected. A little more rational. “That’s what you just said!”

Chapters 9/9 | 42 K | Teen and Up

Follow-up Shorts and Multi-chapters

Just Outside The Door (completed)

Setting: Days after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise: Peter did it. He found his mentor and brought him back, but sometimes it all just seemed too good to be true. Sometimes, his mind played tricks on him and he just couldn’t sleep, wondering if he had really brought Mr. Stark back or if it had all just been a desperate dream.

Tropes: nightmares, PTSD, protective Tony, Whumptober 2020: No. 23

Mood: fear, working through trauma, comfort

There was only silence in his room now unless you were to count the frantic beat of his heart and the deep shaky breaths he sucked in and blew back out. It hadn’t even been a nightmare this time, not truly. He hadn’t really fallen asleep in the first place. Exhaustion was tugging at the edges of his consciousness and that’s where his thoughts had started to spiral.

Mr. Stark was okay. Peter was… he was pretty sure of that. He had succeeded, had brought him back home and now he was okay. But there was a little voice in the back of his head that kept nagging, that kept telling him that maybe… maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had all been a delusional dream, too good to be true, Peter wishing something into reality that was unobtainable. He had seen his mentor die after all. He had died right in front of him, the memory etched into his memory, right there whenever he closed his eyes. Dimensions, time travel… was that really real?

Chapters 1/1 | 4.2 K | Teen and Up

Nothing Left To Lose (in progress)

Setting: 2 weeks after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

The reversal of the Snap added an additional 3.5 billion people back to Earth’s population. 3.5 billion more people to house somewhere, 3.5 billion mouths to be fed, 3.5 billion people who return to a world that was not expecting them to ever come back.

Tropes: food shortage, starvation, looting, blurred lines of good and evil; Whumptober 2020: No. 3

Mood: anger, desperation, conflicted who to help 

Tony groaned, rolling his stiff neck from one side to the other as the gate clicked shut behind Pepper. “Remind me again… Why did we agree to this?”

Pepper didn’t bother to send him a scolding look as she wrapped the security seal around the gate’s locking mechanism. “Because we’re good neighbors?”

“We are?” He smelled like damp fur. When did wet fur and barn animals become his life? “Since when exactly? Was there a house meeting? Did I miss it?”

“Mh… do you need a reminder of the process of negotiation?” She took a step towards him, one hand twisted in his shirt pulling him close against her, their lips almost close enough to touch. “You smell like wet alpaca.”

He pulled in an affronted gasp. The hand that was still holding his shirt pushed him away from her, her lips stretched wide in amusement. “Come on, Cesar. Maybe I’ll remind you after a hot shower.”

Chapters 1/2 | 3.4 K | Teen and Up

Unnamed WIP (unpublished)

Setting: 4 months after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

For months, Peter has been commuting between the city and the Stark’s remote cabin in the woods. But now that life in NYC has regained some normalcy, he really wants to show Morgan what the greatest city in the world has to offer.

Tropes: power outage, panic attack, PTSD; Whumptober 2020: No. 27

Nope. “Not going down that rabbit-hole, Parker,” he muttered to himself.

“What rabbit-hole?” Morgan was sitting opposite him, munching on the cookies Pepper had put out.

“Nevermind.” Peter scooped two tea spoons of sugar into his coffee, then added another one just to be safe.

“Mommy says coffee corrupts the soul.”

“Please, like you even know what ‘corrupt’ means….”

Morgan tilted her head to the side, just like her mom would do. “I know it’s not nice.”

Peter gave her a look. “Well, your dad says it’s the elixir of life.” And Mr. Stark would know. Peter gave his head one hard shake. Tony. Tony would know. One sip of the black brew and Peter’s teeth hurt. Definitely too much sugar. “Okay, remember what we talked about?”

Morgan sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Ask mommy first!”

“That’s right! Make sure you use those puppy eyes, too.” Morgan nodded along enthusiastically while he quickly nicked her glass of milk and poured a generous potion of it into his mug. “We wait till, you know, till Tony’s gone downstairs or something and then—”

“And then you’ll ask me what?”

Chapters -/2 | - K | Teen and Up

Christmas Eve - At Peace (completed)

Setting: 5 months after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

Just a couple of months after they defeated Thanos, Tony and Pepper throw a Christmas party. Instead of a partying kid, Tony finds his Spiderling outside in the snow at the grave he has been trying to ignore ever exists.

Tropes: anger and grief, blame and fear, no prompt

Mood: wholesome, family, frustration

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "I mean it!" For good measure, he took a healthy gulp from the cup, positively burning his throat in the process. But it wasn't until Harley threw his hands in the air and turned his back in defeat - for now - that Tony allowed his face to cringe at the sting. Those little trouble makers were not helping with his heart condition. Speaking of trouble... "Where is Peter?"

Harley crossed his arms in front of himself, his mind clearly brooding on a new strategy. "No clue."

Tony's next sip of the hot wine was a lot smoother than the first. "What do you mean, no clue?"

"It generally means that the person doesn't have any information about the subject that you are—"

"Alright, short stuff..." Tony's eyes were searching the room but the little spider was nowhere to be seen. "A bit less of the asshole routine please?"

"Listen, if you want me to babysit, same rules apply as they do for Morgan." Brazen in his brattiness, the little shit ladled a good helping of mulled wine into a new cup. "I'll need a heads-up and generous compensation that I'm happy to re-negoti— Hey!"

Harley tried to hold on to the cup that Tony once again just plucked from his hands. "You've had enough of this!"

"That one is for Rhodey," the boy scowled.

Chapters 1/1 | 3.8 K | Teen and Up

The Winter Air (completed)

Setting: 6 months after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

Tony, Peter, and Morgan spent a winter day outside the Stark residence.

Tropes: accident, hurt Tony, hurt Peter, Whumptober 2020: No. 13

Mood: fun to fear, injury, accusations, blame

Well, it wasn’t that easy. Because things were apparently never just easy in the life of one Peter Parker. Turned out, there were still some assholes out there. Not the Thanos-kind. Not for now at least. The regular kind though and Peter for one saw absolutely no reason as to why anything should have changed in his responsibility to stop them from being assholes.

His aunt somehow disagreed more often than she didn’t. Annoyingly now though, she managed to drag Mr. Stark to her side a lot more than she used to, too.

Peter shook his head at himself. Tony. T-O-N-Y. It wasn’t that hard, was it? He still slipped up every so often. But as much as that bugged him, it was the others who bugged him even more. Colonel Rhodes and Hawkeye among them the most willing to tease Peter about it. Him, and Tony too, for his mentor never commented on it with more than a crooked smile. When it was just the two of them, that was often the only indication for Peter, that he had said it again.

It made the times when it really was just them so enjoyable. A new ease between them. They had never had this, this kind of bonding. Sure, they’d spent time together before everything had gone downhill on their little space adventure, in the lab or on a normal earth-bound mission. Not like this though, not like Peter staying over at the Stark residence for a few days at a time. Not like him sliding along-side Morgan on the ice on the lake, trying to catch Tony. Not like Morgan falling over and taking Tony right with her and the way Peter’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard when Mr. Stark’s sweet little Morguna drowsed him with two full hands of snow and he just hadn’t seen it coming.

Chapters 3/3 | 14 K | Teen and Up

Unnamed Multichapter WIP (unpublished)

Setting: picks up where The Winter Air ended, 6 months after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

First time all of the Avengers come together after the Snap was reversed. With Tony retired, Peter has to find his place in the team and learn to work with the other Avengers without Tony. Tensions are running high with the events of Civil War still largely unresolved and lingering resentments stemming from Peter’s multidimensional rescue mission to save Tony.

Tropes: Avengers mission, mistrust, growing as a team; Whumptober 2020: No.7

Tony’s eyes went wide. Was it possible that…

“Hey, FRI?”

“Good morning, boss. It’s 10:16 am on February 5th, 2024. The temperature outside is—”

“Yeah, just… can you stop for a moment?” He waved her off. “Send Dory out to the lake, would you. There’s some stuff still lying out there on the ice.”

“Right away, Sir.”

Tony watched as the little blue drone circled the lake, getting closer and closer to what he was sure were the Spiderling’s clothes still lying out there, where he had taken them off to—

“Hey, what are you doing out of bed!”

Despite himself, he twitched as Pepper made her way into the room. She had pushed the door open with her hip, balancing his breakfast on a large wooden tablet.

“Here, let me—” Tony stepped towards her, arms at the ready to take the tablet but she held it out of his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get back in that bed!”

Chapters -/- | - K | Teen and Up

There... And Back Again (in progress)

Setting: about a year after Tony was brought back to life

Premise:  The Starks drive upstate to the old Mansion where Tony grew up. To Tony’s horror, the trip takes him and the kids a lot further down memory lane than anyone could have predicted.

Tropes: time travel, Howard Stark’s A++ parenting; Febuwhum2021 Day 12 - Who Are You

“Pete, seriously…” Tony looked up into the review mirror trying to catch his eye. “Can you not? I don’t want Morgan up all night, terrified of some dumb ghosts.”

“Come on, it’s just a story, Tony. Morgan knows I made it all up, right?” Peter winked at her, then wiggled his eyebrows in a way that seemed kind of familiar.

“Yeah, daddy.” But Morgan was full-on ignoring Tony, her eyes on Peter trying to imitate the wink and wiggly eyebrows he had just sent her way. “It’s just a story.”

He could do little more than groan as Peter continued to spin a tale of spirits and witches, ancient pacts and promises that had to be kept, ransoms that the spirits had vowed to retrieve.

“It was a night very much like tonight,” Peter continued, his voice low and full of dreadful foreboding, “that the witches broke that pact they had signed with the blood of the innocent…”

“Morgan’s gasp morphed into a giddy giggle while Tony could only rub a hand across his brow and mumbled, "Blood of the innocent, give me a fucking break…”

Chapters 1/3 | 4,4 K | Teen and Up

Are We Out Of The Woods Yet?, (completed)

Setting: 4 years after Tony was brought back from the multiverse

Premise:

 Peter takes Morgan into the depths of a National Park so she can collect samples for a biology project.

Tropes: Peter & Morgan, protective Peter, hurt Morgan, hurt Peter, Whumptober 2020: No. 12

Mood: disappointment, mistakes, anger, angst, comfort

“There are so many reasons why online classes are better than going to school.”

Peter shook his head. “And there are plenty of reasons why learning in school with other students is preferable. How it helps retain the material better than—”

Morgan groaned without even looking at him, her nose in the air, eyes on the leafy trees above them. “You can learn the same things at home, only then you could have dinner at night with us instead of in your stinky room in Boston.”

“Hey,” he craned his neck to see where she went, then walked after her. “My room doesn’t stink.”

“It’s a boy’s room.” She said it like that alone was a valid argument, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, the girl’s dorms he had been in—

He stopped himself. Not the time and place.

Chapters 2/2 | 8 K | Teen and Up

[commie-eschatology]

Return to Redcliffe

particularly proud of this Solas + Trevelyan scene from “Return to Redcliffe” so gonna do some shameless self-promotion. Ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/33444538

When all her companions are asleep, Trevelyan leaves the Inquisition camp. She isn’t sure if she’ll come back. Someone is clearly following her, but she ignores that for now. The road back to Redcliffe stretches in front of her, but she hesitates. This is an extraordinary bad idea, she tells herself, but when has that ever stopped her? Lydia used to complain about her tendency to just act on desire alone. But Lydia is dead, she tells herself, you broke her head open with your staff until her brains spilled all over the floor. You killed the woman who raised you, only for the rebellion to sell themselves into slavery. ` In the woods, she stumbles upon a templar caravan. Very fortunate for her, very unfortunate for them. Their screams echo through the Ferelden forest; she imagines getting incinerated from inferno magic would hurt quite a bit, but it’s certainly not her problem. Trevelyan leaps onto the, now empty, wagon, and finds a crate of apples. She takes a few bites of one and monologues, “I rebel, therefore I am,” to the half eaten piece of fruit.

There’s groaning from underneath the wheels, and a jumble of words that vaguely sound like “what the fuck?” so she asks, “Sorry, are you still alive down there?” There’s no response, so in the interest of being thorough, she throws a fireball at the voice. The smell of burnt flesh follows, so she assumes it got the job done, but then again, Ferelden usually smells like that. Really not a terrible scent, she considers. Or perhaps she’s just gone mad.

Trevelyan looks at the Mark on her hand- staying with the Inquisition is the clever choice, she tells herself. Only she can close the rifts, after all. The rebels have been utterly defeated, the movement badly needs allies if it’s to survive. Still, her logic feels cold and hollow. The Venatori ships are already in Redcliffe harbor. She asks herself, how many will be shipped up to the Imperium in chains, in just the time it takes to travel between the Hinterlands and Haven?

Fire burns underneath the wagon. It’s always been fire for Trevelyan- burning the family manor during a childhood nightmare, cremating Lydia’s mangled corpse with her own spells, and, most recently, incinerating more templars than she can count. It’s the same fire that she could use to burn those Tevinter slave ships tonight- despite Fiona and Linnea’s betrayal, she has no doubt that at least a few of her people would join her.  

“Do you want to keep staring at me from the woods then?” she asks the person shadowing her. Solas steps out from the shadows, clearly surprised at being discovered, but he tries not to let it show. He’s usually far more subtle, she doesn't doubt she could be more stealthy if he wanted, but he clearly believes everyone around him is an utter idiot. Fair enough, she supposes. He gives a slight smile, the kind that might say “well done.”

As with everyone, Solas projects emotions into the Fade- but his are more tightly moderated than any other mage she’s ever seen. Now though, Trevelyan sees a wave of complex feelings she can barely sort through, radiating from him: rage at the Tevinters, intense all-consuming fear of something she can’t sense, great sadness for something lost, but all controlled, and directed by conscious purpose.

“These woods are dangerous,” he says, characteristically naming the obvious, “and you have the only means of closing the rifts.” He regards her for a moment. “I apologize if I intruded. You have proven yourself a capable fighter, but I have found it is far too easy to make rash mistakes when one is alone.” His actual meaning is not lost on her: don’t be an idiot and run, is what he wants to say.

He adds, “And in my defense, you did just eviscerate an entire troop of men.” She expects him to ask her why, but he doesn’t; apparently needing no explanation for her small act of rebellion.

“They were templars,” she explains anyways, “most are awful. The others just look away when the Circle rapes happen. Honestly, I’ve always preferred the former.”

“I can’t disagree with you,” Solas says, “my few interactions with templars have been... unpleasant. Either they are accustomed to following the worst orders, as you have said, or they just enjoy inflicting pain, especially upon those without recourse.” There is clear contempt and disgust in his voice, it’s as if he’s speaking from experience.

“That’s why we rebelled,” she says, taking another bite of the apple, “also,  I was hungry. Inquisition rations weren’t doing it.” Solas actually laughs. Trevelyan idly wonders when murder became so casual for her. Kill the woman who raised you, and everyone else becomes easy, she supposes.

There’s a short, but not awkward, silence between them. She knows exactly why he is here, to prevent her from defecting back to the rebels, but his presence is, surprisingly, not unwelcome. They haven’t had much time to talk like this; the conversations they’ve had have so far been in either the shadow of Haven’s Chantry, or on the road with Cassandra.

She motions to the adjacent seat on the wagon. To her surprise, he nods, and walks, or more accurately, struts over, butt wiggle and all. Like most mages, he usually makes himself seem as small as possible, scuttling rather than walking, but unlike the rest, it’s almost as if he has to consciously remind himself to do so.

Solas likes questions, she reminds herself, so ask one. He jumps up on the wagon, and she says, “do you like apples?”

Solas doesn’t even blink. “Apples were first domesticated in this part of the world.” How the fuck does he even know that, she wonders. “I saw a memory once, of a horde of human barbarians, desperately defending a part of these woods they held sacred, from the legions of the Imperium. When the barbarians were slain, the Tevinters marched forward, only to find a simple apple orchard, one which hundreds gave their lives to protect.” He takes one out of the crate, and takes a bite. “However, if you were asking about the taste- no, I detest apples.” He takes another bite. “This one in particular tastes sort of like burnt human flesh.”

“Dying for a lost cause. You really never miss an opportunity to make a point, do you?” she says, “also, how do you even know what burnt human flesh tastes like?”

Solas smiles mischievously. “I don’t like to waste words,” he says. The other point he is suspiciously quiet on. I don’t judge, Trevelyan thinks, you go eat as much flesh as you like, Solas.

His words are somewhat slurred, and she smells something in the air, besides the burning templars of course. She recognizes it as the unmistakable stench of peach whiskey, suspiciously similar to the bottle she had nicked from Dennet yesterday. Solas seems to notice and says, “Master Dennet had many such bottles wasting away on the shelf. He will not miss one, or two, I suppose.” He shrugs.

On the topic, she notices a small bottle of ale in one of the templar crates; the cork is stuck when she pulls on it, so she simply uses a bit of force magic to smash the top of the bottle off. It smells absolutely wretched, and tastes even worse, but she drinks it anyway. Solas watches her, possibly judging her, but he’s always hard to read. “Been a shit day,” she explains. Linnea said, go back to your templars. Fuck her. Tevinter apologist. Shockingly flat ass. Terrible kisser.

“Was today your first time in Redcliffe?” she asks. Solas chuckles softly to himself, apparently a joke only he understands.

“A long time ago, before your rebellion,” he says, “it’s changed since, of course. But I assume you’re asking my opinion on the rebel mages, rather than the settlement itself.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Despair sticks to most of the mages like gnats.” He’s right, during the retreat from the Free Marches, every morning some mages wouldn’t wake up, taken by Despair demons in their sleep. And the war has only gotten worse. She can’t even imagine. “Still, they endure. Their fight against oppression is admirable, and utterly hopeless.” , “Hopeless?” Trevelyan raises an eyebrow. She should be angry, but more than anything she feels exhausted. “You seem rather certain.”

“Of course I am.” he says, matter of fact. Trevelyan picked up some dalish during the rebellion; she’s not ignorant as to the meaning of his name. “In my journeys through the Fade, I have seen countless rebellions rise up, confident in the just nature of their cause, only to be crushed mercilessly. Righteousness, unfortunately, is no match against steel.” Good poetry. She’ll give him that.

“And, yet, Recliffe is still standing,” she says, “for the first time in a thousand years, in this part of the world, mages govern ourselves. No templars. No Chantry. We built that. Isn’t that freedom worth defending?” Trevelyan spent most of her life in the Circle. No price can be too great, she thinks.

“You forget you aren’t speaking to Cassandra or Varric. We do not disagree on the necessity of rebellion,” he smiles, just a bit, mostly to himself, “but, in order for a rebellion to win its immediate demands, as well has change what it is possible in the long term, something you once told me that you seek to do, they must do one thing.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and honestly it works. “They must win.”  

“Even failed revolutions can teach lessons,” she says, the only dogma she’s ever needed to believe in, “no matter what Varric says, the mage rebellion didn’t manifest spontaneously.” She thinks of the thousand year struggle for freedom, and what feels like generations of the dead on her shoulders. In the distance, Trevelyan can just make out the flag of the Venatori, waving from the ramparts of Redcliffe. The ships are not far behind.

“No,” Solas says, suddenly melancholy, “or if they do, it is always the wrong lessons.” He’s silent for a long moment, staring into the ground. “I saw a memory once in the Fade. A man who sought to overthrow a tyrant. Then, a half-hearted assassination attempt, tailored for drama, instead of results. It of course failed. The man himself was burned alive, defiant at first, but when the flames reached his body, when his skin began to melt off, he screamed for mercy that never came.”

Trevelyan takes a long drink. Solas adds, eerily calm, “In the end, martyrdom is just melted flesh upon a wooden stake, and a name utterly forgotten.”  She drains the rest of the bottle.

“I killed my mother,” she says, suddenly, without really meaning to, “when the Circle was annulled, I tried to give her the courtesy of a quick spell, but the tower wards blocked magic so…” she makes a motion with her staff “I, well, had improvise.”

“Your first murder?” he asks. She shakes her head. Definitely not. “If you want absolution, I’m not the person to give it.”

“Oh fuck no, I’m not Andrastian,” Trevelyan scoffs, and Solas chuckles softly. The Andrastians think they can solve all the world’s evils, all their many personal failings, through a song. It’s childish. Besides, Trevelyan would rather hold onto her sins for now- keep them close like a badge of honor. She looks down at the dead templars, corpses bathed in green light from her Mark.

“I don’t regret it,” she says, and she thinks she means it, “not if it served a purpose.” Trevelyan looks again towards Redcliffe, and thinks, everything I am, I owe to them. “In just the time it takes to travel back to Haven, how many will already be on the ships?”

“Likely a few dozen,” Solas answers, “there will be far more, thousands, if these Venatori are not defeated, which is a battle only the Inquisition has the resources to win. It is fortunate, then, that you have a position where you can speak on behalf of the rebel mages.”

The sun begins to rise, bathing the forest in dim orange light. “We should get back then ,” she forces herself to say, though every word is like a block of lead. Solas exhales in relief.

“One final thing,” she says as Solas moves to get up. She looks at her counterpart, studying him best she can, sensing his projections into the Fade. He’s unlike any other apostate she’s ever met, and there’s something about him she can’t quite put her finger on, much less vocalize. “You know quite a bit about rebellions,” she says.

“I have seen much in my travels,” he says, pausing as he considers his next words, “and you could say I had a dramatic youth.”

“One I’d be interested in hearing about,” she says, genuinely. “Especially if it involves more surprisingly melancholy stories about apple domestication.” Solas seems taken aback for a moment, but recovers quickly, chucking politely at her joke. He then smiles quietly to himself.

The two apostates return to the Inquisition camp, though Trevelyan keeps Redcliffe in her sight for as long as she can.

Ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/33444538

[whiskehorange]

Under the Mistletoe

It’s that time of year, so here is the Christmas Special you all deserve for my absence since a month ago & for the few days past Xmas that I didn’t have a charger! I hope you all have a Merry Christmas (or whatever tickles your fancy!) and a Happy New Year!

Jason

The Tree: 

You’ve got the widest array of large evergreen trees right in your front yard, so when you hear a large thump at your front door, that’s just Jason and the biggest tree you’ve ever seen. If you focus one the bottom half of the tree, he’ll get the top, and once the two of you are finished, he’ll raise you up so the both of you can put the star where it belongs!

The Baking:

Boy oh boy does this boy love to bake with you. Mainly focused on the decorating, the frosting, the sprinkles, and everything in between, you better hope you have enough baking sheets to fulfill the hundreds of sugar coated Christmas cookies Jason wants to make with you.

The Mistletoe:

A blushing madman whenever you happen to catch him under it. Of course, he’ll never deny a kiss from you, but it just makes him to soft and warm inside. Eventually, he’ll build up the courage to drag you over to the mistletoe and give you a dedicated kiss.

Michael

The Tree:

Like Jason, save the top of the tree for Michael to decorate, if you have one. He probably won’t go out of his way to buy you a tree or even hack you one down, but will make due with whatever his mother left up in the attic. You’ve got plenty of halloween decorations to put on the tree though...

The Baking:

Michael, baking? You’ve got a long day ahead of you. Good luck trying to get him to stay put to help with anything let alone him actually knowing what the fuck he’s doing. If you need any cookies or goodies cut up or diced, he’s your man. But you’ll notice cookies here and there missing from the dish every once in a while.

The Mistletoe:

Avoids it like the plague. Will purposefully walk the long way to avoid walking from under it. You’ll have to put it some where sneaky, like right in the back door and catch him when he walks in. Even then, he’ll give a defeated sigh and eventually give in, picking you up and letting you smother him.

Bubba

The Tree:

Yes! Yes! Yes! Get this boy in the decorating and party planning committee! It’s something nice for the two of you to do and boy does he love decorating. While most of the ornaments mights be bone fragments and other... spare parts, he’s pretty proud of the outcome. But just wait until he gets ahold of the tinsel. It’ll be draped across everything.

The Baking:

Don’t fret about not having any ingredients for yummy treats, everything you could ever imagine is here! And of course, so is Bubba. Decorating and topping off all of the cookies and treats is his favorite part, and he’s going to eventually make his own batch by himself all for you!

The Mistletoe:

It’s hung in  e v e r y  door frame, and he knows when you walk under one, no matter how quiet you’re walking.

Thomas

The Tree:

He’s always wanted a legit Christmas, but with Hoyt being such a grinch, he never has the chance. But Thomas finds everything about the traditions you show him to be so wonderful. The tree decorating is by far his favorite, even if there isn’t much to hang. Why don’t you both make some!

The Baking:

Oh, you’ve got Luda Mae tickled right to death. It’s one thing that she’s happy to have some time with Tommy to bake, but another to have you helping and shutting down Hoyt’s grouchy ass any time he walks into the kitchen. Thomas might walk out with a few flour prints on his behind, but it’s worth it.

The Mistletoe:

Personally puts it in the door to your bedroom. While he thought about the door to the basement, Hoyt tends to stand there a lot.... and no thanks. So at least now it’s a special place for the two of you to have to yourself!

Billy & Stu

The Tree:

Billy and Stu are definitely the type to get lazy and leave their tree up all year round, but when they do get the chance to decorate, each of you have a different job. Stu gets the lights, Billy on tinsel, and you on ornaments. But you know, most of the lights will end up being wrapped around all three of you, Good luck getting out of that.

The Baking:

Anything that happens in the kitchen turns into a food fight, wet or dry. Christmas music blaring and food flying across like a battlefield. Whatever the three of you end up baking never last a few days either way. From you and Billy taking a few at a time to Stu stuffing them in his pockets, good luck saving any for guests.

The Mistletoe:

Billy typically leave it with one hanging from the most walked through doorway, snaking his arms around your hips from time to time, while Stu always seems to have some stashed in his back pocket. Pucker up buttercup!

Norman

The Tree:

While every suit has their own tiny, simple tree, Norman can’t wait to put up the massive one him and his mother had. It takes a while to fully decorate, especially with some older Christmas music on and the occasional slow dance break the two of you have!

The Baking:

Norman is a decent baker, so he lets you take the lead. Watching over you and taking note of how you make things so he can too. Maybe make a few extra for guests at the front desk? They’ll get a few of the test cookies that don’t come out too good.

The Mistletoe:

Half of the time, he doesn’t notice himself picking through the mail, standing right below the damn thing when you pull him down for a kiss. The stupidest grin sliding across his face as he tries to compose himself.

Hannibal

The Tree:

If Hannibal had it his way, he really wouldn’t decorate that much of his house for the holiday, but if you want to, be his guest! Big tree, little tree, flashy lights, no lights, anything at all and he’s bound to have it up and ready for you to decorate the next day!

The Baking:

He’s more of a cook, but isn’t opposed to doing anything in the kitchen with you. Mainly for when he grabs and puts away things for you. It’s not that he doesn’t think that you can’t put them away, but he’ll just do it. Keep it organized. Besides, you made wonderfully flavorful treats for him to snack on when no one is watching!

The Mistletoe:

Hannibal is, however, very strict in his mistletoe rules. Anytime you walk under it, you MUST kiss him and vise versa. Those things are something that he’ll never overlook in a holiday.

Amanda

The Tree:

She wasn’t too into the idea of all of the decorations and lights, finding herself too busy to do anything, but that would change. It’s pretty therapeutic when she finally gives in to your pleading, especially once the two of you are all done and she can step back and look at something beautiful she’s contributed to. 

The Baking:

Also... not really the biggest fan of baking, but doesn’t mind helping you every once in a while when you need it. Put on some music and maybe she’ll consider icing anything. But she’ll have her hands in the cookies jar from time to time.  

The Mistletoe:

Doesn’t really avoid it all the time, but doesn’t really pay too much attention to it. She loves all of the attention you give her, but won’t ever make it out as though she wants it. She’s gotta keep up that tough girl look! Save the kisses for when the two of you are alone!

Bishop

The Tree:

A tree? Well, he’s never really had a personal one for his lab nor has ever really... participated in Christmas, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t open to celebrating it with you! Bishop fancies the tree the most, wiring up a few lights here and there turns into the whole ship being covered in flashy red and green lights. Thanks Bishop.

The Baking:

Uhm.. not really his strong suit. He’s wired to know basic recipes from rations and what the had, but that didn’t mean that he was particularly good at it. He’s up for learning, of course, so he can retain the information, though! Although, he feels bad he has no benefit to eating what you’ve made, but he’ll force the crew mates to eat them.

The Mistletoe:

Just one hung up is good enough, one in the doorway to his lab. A lot of people walk through there, but the only one he’s concerned about it you.

Nick

The Tree:

He’s such a dad. I mean, just look at him and how he acts. Nick’s like a kid when it comes to decorating and will stay up all night covering the entire house in anything Christmasy he can get his hands on. He’s got the matching ugly sweaters for the two of you to wear while he absolutely destroys the tree in tinsel.

The Baking:

He doesn’t care what you have plans for making, he’s going to eat it and cover it in any frosting he can find. Nick isn’t the worst baker, but he has fun while doing it, so thats what counts. Even when he takes some to Ward he’s got a goofy smile on his face while talking to that grinch.

The Mistletoe:

You can see his ears twitch and his face go red whenever he catches himself under the mistletoe, but thats only when you give him that sly smile and place a hefty shmack right on his lips. Hey, maybe he’ll take some and tease Ward with it.

Arthur

The Tree:

Arthur has the best time doing just about anything with you, no matter what it is. While the two of you might not have the room for the biggest tree, Arthur makes up for it in enthusiasm. It’s simple decoration, but that doesn’t mean it’s not enough!

The Baking:

Arthur’s got some room for improvement. The days of TV dinners and messy dishes are over, so lets get to baking! It makes him feel like a kid again, and boy doesn’t it feel a bit nice to not have a care in the world for a while. The two of you are bound to leave the kitchen with frosting and icing on your faces, but what’s the fun in clean cooking?

The Mistletoe:

He’s a bit bashful just about every time he even looks at the mistletoe hanging there, thinking about how much you really love him. Even a part of him wishing that you really did, that hopefully none of this was a dream, but if it was, he never wants to wake up. But for now, just come and kiss him!

Barbara & Adam

The Tree:

Even in the afterlife, they’ve still kept up all of the decorating and celebrating for the holidays. It something the three of you can do, even Lydia as well! The tree is the greatest asset of it all, only the biggest evergreen sat right in the corner of the living room. Don’t even get me started on how many ornaments they have.

The Baking:

Thats something Barbara takes pride in with you, Adam will just sneak in from time to time and snatch a cookie until one of you catches him and shoos him back into the basement. Barbara has just about every cookie cutter you can imagine, so don’t be afraid to have her bust them out of the cabinets for you.

The Mistletoe:

Those two will be under the mistletoe for hours, going back and forth, laughing and smiling at each other like teenagers. You and Lydia can’t help but just watch and laugh at them, rolling your eyes like you would at your parents. Eventually, when they’re done, the three of you can have your time under the Mistletoe 2.0 (that ones for hugging)!

[theatresweetheart]

Thorns and Arrows

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, G/t

Prompt: “I’ll take real good care of you, I promise.” With prinxiety? Maybe with big Roman and tiny Virgil? — Asked by @arc852

Summary: Virgil, after narrowly escaping capture by humans who believe his witchcraft is demonic, ends up getting caught by Roman instead.

Warnings: Brief mention of Remus, brief mention of Deceit (Darien), multiple descriptions of blood, disturbing use of language, talk of death, character being treated inhumanely, fear, fainting, crying, swearing, fire. (I think that’s it, but please let me know if I missed anything!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Logince

Word Count: 4140 words.

A/n: So, I actually had a lot of fun writing this and getting to play around with different perspectives and such. Also, a huge thank you to the ever lovely @hiddendreamer67 for being a fantastic beta and helping me edit! 

(Also, as a side note, I decided not to add this into the ask with the prompt, only because it had gotten so long. Adding “Read More” into my asks has been problematic for now, so I might do every long story like this and the shorter ones answered in asks. That is still to be decided.)

Anyhow, enjoy! 

Taglist: @isle-of-gold  (Feel free to let me know if you ever want to be tagged in future works!) 

                                      +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Life is a cruel mistress, some would say.

She taunts and giggles and gifts more misfortune to the already unfortunate.

To those that had been born into a life with little to no chance of success or survival, she can be loving and kind and extend assistance and a caring hand. Or, she would sit by, watch and grin at the suffering she caused.

Virgil didn’t want to be ungrateful, but as he stumbled through the overgrown underbrush of the forest in a panicked escape from the king’s knights close behind him—with swords and shields and bows and arrows ready—he felt as though he had every right to be sour about his life.

“Halt in the name of the King, witch!”‌ One knight shouted, causing the witch himself to reel and press on forward faster. “You will cease your useless attempt and repent in the Halls of the King before the Royal Court!”

If he had wanted to repent and be dragged back to the court to either be hung or drowned, he would have already turned himself in.

The sounds of his own breathing got loud enough that it was the only thing he could focus on. The blood rushing in his ears, the adrenaline pounding through his veins.

His coven had already been ravaged by fire and death and destruction, his familiar was nowhere to be seen—which worried him greatly—and now he was running blindly through a forest he didn’t know his way out of.

He was in an area of the forest that he had never had the chance to see. A place he had never been taken to, or shown around. He was completely on his own when it came to navigating his way out.

To put it lightly, Virgil was terrified.

The sound of an arrow whizzing by his head, nearly nicking his cheek, made him recoil and duck to the other side, catapulting himself over a fallen log and continuing his sprint.

There was just so much that had gone wrong in such little time. This morning had been like any other morning, quiet, relatively peaceful. He was going to try and spend most of his day perfecting his potions, only for that to have changed within the hour.

How had the knights figured out his coven existed?‌ A false accusation by one of the paranoid townspeople, claiming they had seen another of Virgil’s coven commit a heinous act of witchcraft.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out that the townsfolk were bluffing. It also wasn’t hard to understand that the townspeople didn’t like him or his coven in the first place. They were isolated and kept to themselves a lot, only entering the town square when absolutely necessary. To an outsider, they almost did look a tad too much like witches, but they had never been accused of it before.

There had been rumors, Virgil remembered, when he was little. He remembered staying close to Darien, a hand latched onto the older witch’s jacket as they navigated the town. People would whisper to each other, point and stare, but nothing had ever come of it. It remained only as if it were a whisper on the wind.

There had always been paranoia within the town about the forest and what lurked inside of it, which was understandable.

There were terrible creatures that lurked in the night, searching and stalking for an easy meal. If you didn’t know how to fight back, it would be far too easy to lose. Sometimes, even if you did know how to defend yourself, you just weren’t strong enough.

Some of the animals that did haunt the night were wolves and bats and coyotes and such, but then there were mystical creatures as well; the fae, werewolves, and vampires, which were rare, but there. They mostly lived among the people and not so much in the heart of the woods. It was easier to feed that way.

There were even creatures that were so big they’d be able to swallow a human whole if they so desired.

Now those were the encounters that would strike fear into anyone’s being. Anyone that had a rational head on their shoulders would avoid a giant at all costs.

Then there were the so called “giant hunters”‌ who decided it would be a good idea to go after these massive beings and try to claim fame and fortune.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely anyone would return from such a quest.

Not that Virgil felt a shred of pity for them. They had made their choice—no matter how stupid—and it had cost them their lives. So, the only way to go about that was to learn from their mistakes and never make the same choice himself.

The twang of another arrow being loosed caught his attention, but the searing hot agonizing pain that rose from his left shoulder was the thing that shattered every coherent thought in his head. The yelp of pain that came sharply from his mouth made the knights behind him cheer in glee; they had hit their mark!‌ It was only a matter of time now before the witch stumbled and dropped.

While his vision was hazy, Virgil wasn’t letting the arrow get the better of him. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find– to find… find what exactly? What was left for him? His coven was nothing but ashes, his familiar was possibly dead and he was being hunted. It really was only a matter of time before he stumbled to his knees and let the knights have their way with him.

But there was also the sharp resilience that said this isn’t what his family would want for him. The fact that giving up meant losing immediately. The moment one gave up was the moment one lost.

Chancing a glance down at the wound, Virgil saw a steady stream of crimson blood oozing down his left arm, dripping off of his fingertips before it had the chance to dry. He needed to dislodge the arrow, find some way to heal the wound before he bled out…but without a safe place to stop and rest, it was pointless.

Without his eyes on the escape route, he had failed to notice the steep drop down the bank in front of him. Just as his foot caught on a stray root, a sharp cry was ripped from his throat and he stumbled and slid to his knees. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his uninjured side just enough to see the knights approaching him quickly.

The sounds of the armour and weapons clattering got closer and closer, until Virgil could see the three knights standing over him. Looking red in the face and furious, but almost mixed with a horrible look of glee. They got to take what they wanted of him. Torture him, kill him.‌ Anything they so desired.

His chest rose in panting breaths, unsteady but in an almost recognizable pattern. Hazily, his eyes slid over each and every knight, taking in what they looked like. Burning their images into his brain as the last thing he would probably see before they ran him through. He memorized every little detail, including their unbearable grins, sneers and sharp looks that said so much more than words could.

“Absolutely pitiful,”‌ the one to his right said, voice dangerously low. He crouched down, prodding Virgil roughly in the injured shoulder and grinning as the witch hissed at the unwanted and painful touch. “A single arrow takes down the last witch of that disgusting coven. You’d think it’d have more fight. At least a will to live.”

Of course Virgil had a will to live, but surrounded like this, too weak to even try and utter a simple spell?‌ His odds weren’t looking great. But that knight could go and take what little knowledge his fat head carried and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“I almost feel bad,”‌ a second voice piped up, cruel and unrelenting. “Get it up boys. Bring it back to the King.”

The first knight got down lower, so low that Virgil could feel his breath against his neck. It was a vulnerable section of skin for someone’s mouth to be hovering over and he was half afraid that the knight would take the advantage to sink his teeth into his jugular. Of course it wasn’t a human move, but it didn’t stop Virgil from worrying about it. He even tried to writhe away to the best of his ability but was stuck in place by the third’s heavy grasp. “The King ain’t gonna be happy with you,”‌ he snarled, “I‌ like to think that your coven got off easy.”

The thought that being burned alive in your own home was getting off easy, made Virgil feel so unbelievably sick that he felt bile rising.

There was no way that Darien and Remus had gotten off easy. Buried under rubble with heat from all sides, heat that you couldn’t escape, that you choked on and eventually made your suffering so unbearable—

Virgil coughed, blood painting his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling heat prickling the back of his eyes. The water threatened to spill, but he fought back the urge. The knights already had enough reason to mock him; he didn’t want crying in front of them to be another.

The first knight grinned wider. He pushed himself away from the curled up form on the ground and circled around to the other side of him. He grabbed Virgil under the shoulder where the arrow was still implanted into it, before seemingly like he had a better idea. “Hold the witch down,”‌ he said to the other two. “Roll it over onto its back.”

As he was pushed onto his back, Virgil’s eyes snapped back open, blurred as they were, and they locked on the first knight. They widened as he noticed the knight’s hand wrapping around the shaft of the arrow.

He’s going to pull it out. It’s going to get ripped out without care or precision.

Doing that, could ruin his shoulder for life. There was only so much healing magic could do when you weren’t skilled enough in the practice. The fact that the arrow itself was going to be ripped out the opposite way it had been shot in made his stomach churn.

“N-no!”‌ Virgil had finally found his voice, but the demand came out weaker than he had anticipated it. The three men above him didn’t seem to care about his protest as the arrow was grabbed half a moment later. “W-wait, please! Don’t— don’t do this!‌ I’ll go back willingly…ju-just leave the arrow alone!”

“So, it talks,”‌ The second knight snarked, his hands tightening on his good shoulder. Virgil’s eyes frantically searched the features above him, the world beginning to darken in his terror. “It’ll only hurt for a few days.”

“Don’t worry though,” the knight said, giving an experimental tug on the arrow shaft, watching Virgil’s pained expressions carefully. “I’m sure you won’t live that long anyhow. So, perhaps, it’ll only hurt for the rest of your miserable life.”

Virgil tried to prepare himself for the feeling of something being torn out of his body, but nothing could have prepared him for the excruciating feeling that rippled through his entirety.

The arrow head had been so far embedded into his shoulder that it had nearly been poking out the other side. It had torn through layers of skin and had caused the wound to enlarge. More blood spilled from the gash and Virgil almost felt numb. So much agony was flushing through his body that he could hardly put two and two together.

He choked on his breathing, blood made another reappearance as he coughed, gagging at the unbelievable amount of torment.

It only made the knights howl with laughter, looking down at the witch. He wasn’t a big kid, in fact Virgil was actually remarkably small for someone his age. His short stature only made it easier for the knights to keep him trapped.

Virgil gasped, trying to find a way to steady himself enough to process just what exactly was happening to him.

Die.

The word was so sudden and startling that he almost couldn’t fathom the meaning of it.

You are going to die.

Everything that had happened in his life was going to be rendered meaningless. As if he had never done anything at all. There was no one left to remember him.

They’re going to kill you right here, right now so the King will reward them as heroes.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling over. He choked on a sob and shook his head, trying to get them off. Trying to get them to let him go. Trying to do something that could possibly save his life. Anything.

You’re going to die and there is nothing you can do about it.

His mind was alive and buzzing, but numb and everything was confusing and he couldn’t see straight, he could hardly breathe. There was so much assault happening to him that his senses couldn’t comprehend everything. From the sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder that was going to kill him if he didn’t get it treated to the electric buzzing going on inside his head from the constant movement and chatter, or even when it came to noticing the quaking in the ground that hadn’t been there before.

Wait.‌‌ What the holy hell was that?

“I didn’t think witches understood human emotions,” the first knight said, snapping the arrow between his two hands and tossing it to the side idly.

He seemed to be the only knight that hadn’t honed in on the difference in the air around them. The way the ground kept shaking in a steady and oddly familiar pattern. It was timed and paced, but shook with a passion. It felt like…like… oh.

Oh no.

No, no no no!

Virgil was too scared to open his eyes, knowing that his consciousness was just barely holding on. It was only a matter of time before it was over for all of them. Seeing through the blood loss and tears wouldn’t help either, but he knew what was coming. He knew that it was way worse than what the knights had in store for him.

“L-let me go!” He grit out, almost trying harder but with his strength failing him, he sounded pathetic.

“Now, why would we do something like that?” The knight crooned. “We caught you and now we’re going to fulfill our duty to the King.”

“No!”‌ Virgil’s voice verged on shrill. “You— you don’t get it!”

The footsteps were getting closer, more prominent. The earth shook with every footfall and the force rattled through him as he was laying flat on the ground.

It was then that the knight seemed to realize what was happening. The first knight was turning to see something he did not want to see.

“What?” The knight barked in surprise, immediately on his feet with his sword drawn. The other two followed suit leaving Virgil on his back, heaving with gasps and anguish.

Just as the knight had gotten the word out, the darkness slid over them, casting the four humans into its shadow.

Virgil knew that it wasn’t a cloud blocking the sun; it was something far worse.‌ Far more dangerous.‌ Something that made him want to be dragged away by the knights and thrown in front of the king. He’d rather that then suffer a death at the hands of a giant.

“Now isn’t this quite the sight,”‌ the rumbling voice from overhead made Virgil flinch further into himself, keeping his eyes screwed shut. He had already memorized the faces of his other tormentors, he didn’t need to see this one too. “The King’s men, supposedly meant to protect the citizens of the Kingdom, attacking one of their own.”

“A‌ witch!”‌ The knight barked, his hold on his sword wavering, terror eating away at his insides. It was obvious how frightened he was, but the stubbornness within him refused to let it show. “It is no member of our society!”

Roman scoffed, his eyes locked on the quivering little form on the ground. “I don’t want to assume, but I‌ would believe the witch would prefer to be addressed as a he not an it.”

The knight threatened to take a step towards the witch again, but Roman moved forward more, to match in confidence and challenge the knight. Giving more of a protective loom over the group of three knights.

“Witch or not, he is still a person,” The giant said, a growl just under the tone of his voice. “Or is that too hard for your bitty human brains to understand?”

The second knight reeled back from that, looking white in the face. His terror was clear to read. The third knight was harder, but the quivering of the blade showed real fear. The knight that was still talking back just seemed to be an idiot.

The first knight met the giant’s eyes, fearless and stupid. “I suppose that means monsters stick together.”

A sharper look filled Roman’s eyes, almost immediately the aura darkened, and he leaned down so much so that they were nearly at eye-level. He hovered just over them to assert his dominance in the situation. To further assert himself, he planted his hands on both sides of the group of knights—even though he was carefully aware of where the little witch was cowering, sobbing, bleeding out and shit I‌ have to deal with these fools quick.

So, he focused all of that irritation and frustration into staring, unwavering, at the knights in front of him. Their swords were nothing compared to him. Humans were absolutely nothing compared to him. “Keep using language like that and I will scrape you across the forest floor like old gum.”

Finally, that got the reaction he had been wanting. He wanted fear, and he wanted them to regret stepping into his part of the woods and torturing an innocent person—witch or not—as if they could get away with it. As unbelievably angry as he was, he knew that he would have to treat the little human and his injuries.

“I’m going to give you a single chance to leave without getting hurt,” he said, voice dangerously low. ‌A menacing snarl that reverberated through his chest and rumbled around them like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. “Get out of here. Now.”

The two other knights had no problem sticking their swords into their sheathes and bolting in the same way they came, their armour clanging together as they escaped. The first knight held his ground, but when chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on him, unrelenting and cold and unsympathetic, the knight felt his heart jump into his throat for the first time. He took an unsteady breath and his resolve shattered when he watched Roman bare his teeth in a sneer at him.

It took nothing for him to scamper off in the same direction as his colleagues.

Now, with the threats gone, he could pay some attention to the witch that was still bleeding out on the ground.

His hands moved from their defensive position, that he had been using to keep himself upright, to one that was encompassing the little human. Curled around the tiny shivering form as if to protect him and ward off any further predators that intended to harm.

“Hey,” his voice was softer, as quiet as he could get it to be without causing more alarm. Perhaps after everything though, Roman would still be registered as a threat because of what the witch had just witnessed. He watched the tiny form flinch away from the sound, one hand moving to cover the gaping wound on his shoulder. “This might not sound all that…reassuring, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The witch gave the tiniest shake of his head in a clear and obvious distrusting “no,” but his eyes remained screwed shut. The human’s hands were smeared in his own blood, the ripped white shirt he was wearing had been stained crimson with the thick liquid.

Biting into his lower lip, Roman let his gaze flicker. The creature was obviously in a great amount of pain and he seemed to be losing consciousness. “I‌ know you have no reason to trust me, but would it help if you knew my name?” Without an answer, he was sure the human was starting to doze but he needed him awake. So, talking to him was the only rational thing that came to mind. “My name’s Roman. I know this is an odd way to meet someone, but it makes for an interesting origin story, don’t you think?”

The witch groaned up at him and for a moment, he thought they were actually communicating, only to be let down—unsurprisingly—when the human didn’t react anymore than that.

While he wanted to get him patched up as soon as possible without moving him, as that could agitate the wound further (or so Logan said), Roman needed to get the human back to his home. There, he had medicines and remedies that would help begin the healing process. And, if the knights were right and the human was a witch, he should know some healing spells himself, too.

Quickly making up his mind, knowing that he couldn’t leave the half-conscious human here by himself to go and retrieve medical supplies, he began to close his hands around the tiny form before pausing. The human hadn’t even looked at him once and Roman didn’t want to startle him by just suddenly grabbing him and hefting him high into the air.

“I’m gonna have to move you, alright?‌ That way I‌ can take you back to my place and my friend and I‌ can get you all fixed up,”‌ Roman chattered at him quietly, explaining his plan while also asking for permission. “That way you’ll be right as rain in a couple days. Will you let me do that?”

The witch made a small noise and Roman was ready to roll with that, when instead it opened its mouth. He held his breath, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss anything important.

“…nuh.”

It sounded like a no but even knowing that the creature didn’t want to be moved, Roman couldn’t just leave it here to die. At least, not in good conscience.

His shoulders drooped and he couldn’t do it. “Sorry little buddy,” he said quietly, the apology doubled as a warning.

It seemed the witch understood that much as the eyes fluttered open lazily. The brown eyes were glazed over, that much was obvious to tell. The little one was watching but Roman didn’t think he was actually seeing. Or if he was even able to connect what was happening right now to reality. The little thing had to be inches away from death and, if worse came to worse and Roman couldn’t save him, at least the human would be in safe company when he passed.

Refusing to let that thought rule his motivations, he carefully scooped his palms underneath the tiny being, incredibly savvy to how he cried out with such a heartbreaking noise. The little one was absolutely petrified.

Heart crawling up into his throat, Roman cupped the human between his two hands and lifted the little one off of the ground and out of its puddle of blood, into the cupped bowl of his palms.

The human groaned in agony and Roman was quick to coo to him, making small comforting noises in the back of his throat. Trying to make the awful situation better as he rose to his feet. “Shh, shh. I know, little one, I‌ know,” he soothed, “I know it hurts but I’m going to get you back home and I’m going to get you all patched up. I’m not gonna hurt you, you’ll be okay.”‌

He felt so horribly guilty that he hadn’t heard the commotion earlier. He knew it wasn’t right to blame himself for this, but he couldn’t help it. Not with how the witch was trying to focus on him, only to let his eyes slip closed.

It looked as though he was ready to accept his fate.

Roman couldn’t let him do that—not without at least trying first.

“You’re okay,”‌ he hushed the tiny human, “no one’s gonna hurt you again. You’re safe with me, I‌ swear it.”‌

Roman looked up briefly to make sure he was heading in the direction that would lead him home, before focusing back down on the form in his hands.

“I’ll take real good care of you.” His voice was nearly a whisper, a silent vow as the human began to drift off into full unconsciousness. “I‌ promise.”

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Snowmelt

a/n: hi! this is my take on the what if Eirween had kept logan au! i am hoping i can make at least one more chapter of this because i do have a plot thought out, but i am not amazing at sticking to projects fdjhal. either way i hope this is enjoyable 

warnings: child abuse/neglect, hypothermia, death threats, just eirweens A+ parenting in general.

———————————————————

Leith Snowmelt’s life so far had been fine, really.

Well, OK maybe not.

Maybe that’s just what he wanted to believe.

Maybe it was more along the lines of horrible.

He spent most of his time at the edges of the forest; hidden, in the warm months between the bushes. He had learned to be quiet, still and unseen.

He only saw other faeries when his mother decided she wanted to bring him out, like a shiny piece of jewelry for special events. He had learned to be quiet when that happened too, to behave and play tricks when asked.

There always is an anger building in his chest, a tiny part that knows. He knows he was born on the equinox and only if they let him, if someone only taught him, he would be able to bend the forrest to his will. 

Instead he grows silly little flowers and catches sunbeams to amuse bullies who mock him to his face.

Unseelie thought of him, at worst, as a mistake who shouldn’t have been granted with the gift of seeing the light of day, at best they thought of him as The Banshee’s pet, funny silly little thing. 

Most Seelie thought of him as a lost cause.

The only time he ever did anything for himself was nicking books off school children. It wasn’t even stealing really since he usually gave something in return. Children were easy to bargain with, if you were persuasive enough and you looked childish, they often wanted stupid little things in return for their books: a charm, good luck on a test, health. 

It would be so easy to trick them.

Lieth didn’t.

How pathetically Spring of him.

His mother always cast him a half amused look when she found out he was “tricking” humans.

 It was the fondest look she ever gave him.

But all in all Summer and Spring were bearable, but Autumn and Winter were a whole other story.

It’s so cold and miserable, and it’s pitiful how much he missed the sun.

Some Seelie hibernate, or at least stay inside, cover themselves. Snowmelt’s mother will not let him, as if he could learn to be Winter purely by her stubbornness.

So it was his 12th year of life and he has his worst month yet.

His mother seemed to become more unhappy with him by the day. The other Unseelie seemed to lose interest in her little pet, he was not sure what they would do to him if they got bored. Worst of all he had, although only fleetingly, caught the attention of the Serpent King. Only brief amused glances at revels, but Snowmelt knew very well that could bring him nothing but trouble. 

Then a blizzard hit’s Wickhills, covering everything in a thick layer of snow. 

Snowmelt is downright miserable, and very aware of the bitter irony of his name.

His mother fought with him, well it wasn’t really a fight, mostly she was angry at him.

Somewhere deep down there is a growl in him, “I could take you”, that part of him says. 

But right now he is paralized, right now there is a blizzard outside and the sky is dark.

“I gave you life, Lieth,” she said.

He was sure that is the first time she has called him that, the first time anyone has called him that.

“I can take it too, Snowmelt.”

She had never been quite so direct, she bares her teeth in a mockery of a laugh, and suddenly he feels so very small.

So Snowmelt runs, runs through the cold forrest, through the snow. He runs until he can’t feel his legs anymore.

He runs until he is not sure what precisely he is running from anymore, but he can’t stop, he can’t even think about going back.

He runs all the way to the edge of the forest, where he usually reads books, hoping no one will find him.

He stops, his body giving out from underneath him.

He is immortal, he knows this, he does not remember whether or not the cold can kill him. He is, pitifully, Seelie after all.

It doesn’t really matter, he can not go either way.

How stupidly weak of him.

  ——————–

Thomas Sanders had a relatively average life, or well, as average as it can be growing up in Wickhills.

His mom was maybe a little more protective than was strictly necessary, but really with fae all around, who could blame her.

Anyway, on this particular day she had let him go out in the snow, she had said she was coming outside to join him in a second and for now he should stay in the street.

Thomas was absolutely delighted with all the snow, it was the most he had seen in his life, it was just too pretty.

Then he made a turn at the end of the street, suddenly he was at the edge of the forest. 

Which was definitely not were the edge of the forest should be.

To his credit Thomas only panicked a little bit, mostly he was annoyed he had been pixie-led from his own street, and quickly started turning his coat inside out.

And then he saw him.

A Faery, or well a child.

He looked only a little older than thomas, 14 maybe? But he was also small, and a frankly alarming shade of shade of pale blue.

And Thomas just could not shake the feeling that he was frozen and surely hurt.

Thomas could say that what he did next was because leaving the fae there certainly would have left him with some terrible curse.

But something had brought Thomas there. And seeing his face his heart broke.

So he ignored all common sense and logic, finished taking his coat off and wrapped the boy in it.

He lifted him- he was so light it could absolutely not be healthy- and he sprinted home.

Only later he will be concerned about whether or not the rest of the town saw him.

In the moment he could only think that the boy in his arms might be seriously hurt or dying.

He, somehow, clumsily rang his doorbell.

Only when he sees his mother’s baffled face logic rushed back to him and realised that this was so terribly foolish.

He looked down at the boys placid face.

With the best puppy dog eyes he looked back at his mom.

“He is hurt, moma.” he said pleading.

She sighed and shook her head.

“Get inside Tommybug it’s cold,” she looked at the fae boy in his arms and looked back at her sons pleading eyes, “get them inside too, quickly.”

Thomas smiled and they gently carried him inside.

———

Dot Sanders was considering she might have made the worst decision in her life.

She should have been panicking, or be furious at her son or something.

She certainly shouldn’t be gently tucking the fae in the makeshift bed they had made for them on the couch. 

She had called Larry immediately, he had been somehow slightly more rational about the whole situation, but ultimately decided they could not kick out an ill child.

She was in no way a medical professional, or prolific in anything magic. She wanted to call Abby, but she had picked this weekend to go on a short vacation with Roman. The idea of calling May Gage made her stomach churn.

So she did her best and wrapped the boy in slightly oversized warm clothes and turned on the heater.  

She knew, although she did not know much about fae, the boy was hurt. He was quite literally frozen a dull blue gray pattern of frost implanted on his skin and he was dangerously motionless. Aside from that there were bruises, scratches, scars and something that looked suspiciously like a burn.  She couldn’t help the profound ache in her chest as she added a blanket, she was a mother after all.

He made a soft slightly inhuman noise of pain.

“It’ll be alright,” she cooed, because she had gone just absolutely insane. 

He groans again, and he looks so much like Thomas.

Just like her son when he gets the flu, or he scrapes his knee, or when he stayed up too late.

He looks like her students at school too. 

Somehow, even if she knows he could be hundreds of years old, she knows he is just a child.

She runs her fingers through his hair gently and sighs.

“It will all be alright.”

——–

Snowmelt woke up in a place he did not recognize. 

The room has a strange hum to it, he also had no idea what everything inside it is, except for the books. He is in clothes that are not his and give him a strange itch like feeling. 

Somehow the room was hot, but he was not, he felt frozen from the inside.

He only has a few seconds of utter confusion before his thoughts were interrupted by a cheery voice.

“Oh gosh you’re awake!”

He turned to look at the human child, who smiled relieved and bright at him. 

Snowmelt wanted to yell, or run, or something. He could not. Why?

The child frowned a bit.

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk, you must still be hurt, mom says you got some form of hypothermia.”

Fantastic, hypothermia.

“Well anyway, I am-”

“No” he manages, his voice rough.

The human shaked his head.

“Right, faery, sorry.”

Snowmelt wondered what his mother would think of him, refusing a mortals name like that.

Pathetic probably.

“You can call me Bug, my mom calls me that sometimes,” he said somehow still upbeat. “Is there anything I can call you?”

He stayed silent, baffled at this child’s lack of manners and common sense and just the entire situation really. 

The child nods anyway.

“Ok,” he said, “do tell me if you need anything, mom and dad will be home in a second, they just went to get stuff for dinner.”

He wondered what kind of parents left their child with a fae, but then he tried to stand up and his body felt like he was being stabbed by needles. He went lightheaded and he noticed his body was littered with something that looked like frost.

He was completely harmless. 

Great, perfect really.

————

The parents did come home soon, and they were…kind?

He did understood less about the whole situation by the second.

They explained that they had found him, and saved him, for reasons Snowmelt really did not understand.

The mother, who told him she could call her Dory, something Bug seemed to find endlessly amusing, well she was fussing over him, she even brought him flower tea he was petulantly refusing to drink, she seemed to not be aware of food rules in fairy courts, and generally seemed to be trying to care for him.

The dad, who the child insisted he called Merlin, was just a little bit weary, but still offered no protest to there being an actual fae in his house.

There must be something, Snowmelt thought, something they want. A blessing? A gift? Simply to keep him imprisoned?

Whatever it was, they had not asked, yet.

After a while they left him to rest, and with much pain he reluctantly drank the tea, which was very good and seemily did not curse him or imprison him further.

From his place on the couch he saw the snow still falling outside and wondered in just how much trouble he was.

---

V: oh! my!! goodness!!! GRACIOUS!!!!! this is so SWEET and the Dory-and Marlin joke was an adorbale little cherry on top of this wonderful sundae that i absolutely love

[taebadam]

act 2 pt. 2

oh boy. oh wow oh boy. now we get to my absolute favorite: you oughta know. get ready folks cause i have so so much to say. alright. so we cut to frankie and jo in new york where frankie is thanking jo for coming to pick her up since she lost her debit card and she didn’t want to “break down and call home.” jo is mostly silent, nowhere near her usual sarcastic self. she responds to everything frankie says in this flat, controlled tone just simmering with anger below the surface. i’m just gonna transcribe this whole scene because it shows so many things: how much jo really cares about frankie even though she’s pissed, how much frankie clearly hurt her and how frankie really didn’t realize what she was doing. frankie goes “that was pretty crazy back at my house. in fact i’m surprised you even showed up.” jo responds with little to no emotion in her voice other than underlying anger, just tight and quiet and closed off like she’s trying so hard not to lose it: “i’m your best friend. i’m not going to leave you stranded in a neighborhood you can’t even name.” “but you’re mad.” “can you guess why? or are you so far up your own ass these days you don’t even know?” “i’m really sorry. i was gonna tell you.” “and yet you didn’t. because you knew what you were doing was wrong.” “i didn’t think i was gonna fall in love with him.” “love? well congratulations frankie. i’m glad you found something healthy and rational. i’m clearly not as legit as your fuckboi phoenix.” “that’s not what i’m saying jo i just didn’t think you and i were in an exclusive relationship.” “right. why would you take this… (gestures to herself) seriously.” “you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

and in comes the music. ok so a few things. as jo starts singing frankie is standing behind her and jo’s deathly still, her voice still quiet as she just stares straight ahead. they’re the only two on stage. you can practically feel the tension in the air. everyone in the audience is on the edge of their seat. frankie starts to turn around and walk away until the first mini drop when you can feel something building and you know shit’s about to go down: when the guitar comes in and jo starts “a perfect version of me.” as soon as that guitar hits frankie freezes in her tracks and the soft light on jo starts to turn red. and wow is it about to get good. jo stays completely still as frankie circles back around while we get to the first pre-chorus, the “the love that you gave that we made wasn’t able…” part. as she does the pre-chorus the red light begins to expand around her but she still isn’t moving. her voice, however, even though it is still thin and controlled is starting to grow as the anger just continues to bubble up. she sings the first chorus just staring out into the audience, unmoving, and the tension just KEEPS BUILDING. frankie begins to back away just a little, like she’s beginning to realize just how angry and hurt jo really is. but we haven’t seen anything yet. we get to the second verse and the red lights continue to grow more intense as jo finally, FINALLY starts moving. she turns to look at frankie, staring her down, but she’s still controlled, still holding herself back. her voice gets a little more raspy, a little more intense but still not enough and everyone is holding their breath. once we get to “did you forget about me” she starts to stumble away a little bit, those mannerisms starting to shine through and we just barely start to see her truly devastated, exposed, vulnerable self. when she sings “are you thinking of me when he fucks you” she grabs frankie forcefully before pulling away. she’s starting to show more of her anger both physically and vocally. the pre-chorus comes back and that raspiness to her voice only increases, anger now finally starting to show on her face and she moves back, away from frankie and turns to finally start powerfully singing (though not yet screaming as she eventually gets to) “and i’m here!” it’s at this point that the band really starts to get loud. they come in from the wings and the volume jumps up. powerful red light fixtures drop down from the ceiling, flashing violently and one by one the ensemble runs up over the course of the second chorus to flank jo on either side. frankie doesn’t know what to do. and we’re still not even at the climax. then everything drops out as the ensemble starts singing “ooh” for the third verse. jo moves to the front, clearly starting to lose it as the ensemble walks around behind her, circling and enclosing frankie. jo isn’t even looking at frankie anymore, she’s holding her head in her hands and walking, pulling at her hair, eventually starting to join in with the ensemble. then she begins her high harmony and the anger on her face becomes more and more clear and as she sings higher and higher the ensemble moves from frankie to come stand beside jo. they all stomp their feet on the last “ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah… AHH!!” and jo’s high note. holy shit. and now everything’s been released.

she begins to go full screamo, dancing with the ensemble, pointing and yelling at frankie as her anger and fear and devastation just all boil over. the band is now rocking out and the stage is bathed in angry red light. jo screams “well can you feel it” and her and the ensemble run to stand near the back of the stage in front of the band and just completely lose it. jo is screaming, singing her heart out, throwing her body around in desperation. you can see just how horribly sad and angry she is, how she feels abandoned and alone. you can see it in her face, her body, hear it in her voice. and then the chorus happens AGAIN for that final time and they all run to the very front of the stage, jo just completely losing it. she whips her head up and down, screeching with all her might, reaching out to the audience and just practically pulsing with anger and energy. it’s truly stunning. on the last line (you, you, you) she and the whole ensemble are jumping and the lights are flashing red and white and then everyone cuts out and it’s just her, screaming out into the audience with a voice of just pure raw emotion: “oughta know!!” and they all freeze. the crowd goes. WILD. both times i saw this she got a standing ovation. A MID SHOW STANDING OVATION LIKE WTF. and she absolutely deserved it both times. the amount of emotion she puts out on that stage. and her VOICE HOLY SHIT. honestly, that scene and song is a whole musical in and of itself. her range of emotion through those like 5 minutes, the way she builds in every possible way— stunning. words cannot describe how much i love lauren patten. also it just means so much to me to see women who are allowed to get angry on stage. i love it.

also important to note is that jo doesn’t have her beanie on in this scene? and i have a lot of thoughts on this. in most other scenes, jo is hiding behind a front. she’s sarcastic and tries to avoid showing any form of vulnerability. she wears her beanie like a suit of armor, really. we only see her without her beanie three times: when she’s coming back from the church social with her mom (which she was forced to do and clearly hated. and as soon as her mom is gone she puts the beanie back on immediately, like it’s something to hold on to), you oughta know (which is the only time, at least at this point in the show, where i think we really, truly see jo— when she lets herself go) and then the end (we’ll talk about this later).

after everyone has finished cheering (for a solid like 2 minutes holy shit), frankie runs up to jo looking at her phone in a panic. “jo!” she yells. jo turns around, clearly annoyed, “what? god do you even give a shit?” and frankie goes “no jo it’s my mom” and immediately jo’s there to help because that’s the kind of person she is and they run off stage in a hurry.

cue uninvited. wow. i know i’ve said this about so many things but honestly i don’t think i’ve ever seen such genius staging and choreography in theater ever. it’s absolutely mindblowing. so this is the scene where mj overdoses and the way they depict this is genius. we see a dark stage with a single spotlight on the couch in the center where mj sits and begins to sing. seconds later, heather comes up from behind her and begins to dance around her. this kicks off a stunning choreography that has you on the edge of your seat the whole time. dressed the same as mj, heather shows the agony and pain mj is experiencing, both mentally and physically, through dance. she throws herself around the couch, falling to the floor in agony and pulling herself back up again. mj and heather reach out to each other but never quite reach each other. elizabeth’s stunning voice as mj combined with heather’s astounding choreography as her body double just makes you really, truly feel the absolute pain she’s experiencing in every possible way. incredible. also, at the very beginning of the song, i kid you not when i first looked toward the back of the stage i thought there was a reflection or a pole or something? you can ~just barely~ see something behind mj but i truly thought it was a trick of the light for the longest time. but slowly, ever so slowly, the light grows and you realize it was bella, looking on and watching the whole thing as a ghost in the distance. and her harmonies are stunning. at the end of the song heather and bella leave and mj collapses on the floor, completely passed out. this is when steve enters. he sees her and we see him for a moment start to run towards her and the stage goes pitch black with a loud note from the band. a second later the lights come back on and this time we see steve on the ground w mj and nick on the phone talking frantically. the lights shut off again w another note and when they come back on we see an emt taking mj’s vitals. then they shut off one last time and when they come back on we’re in the hospital w mj and steve.

steve and nick have a conversation with the doctor before going into mj’s room featuring one of the best exchanges i’ve ever seen on stage. the doctor tells steve mj overdosed and she had multiple drugs in her system, different ones than she was originally prescribed, leading him to conclude she got them off the streets. steve is in disbelief. he replies “look at her. does she looks like a drug addict to you?” and the doctor replies “what do you think a drug addict looks like?” no response. incredible.

then mary jane. wow sean allen krill’s voice is just so so good and his performance is stunning. i cried. he climbs in bed with mary jane as he sings to her and it’s adorable. we also have a great exchange between the two of them when she wakes up. one of the lines from the couples therapy scene earlier was steve talking about how mj has to be the best at everything: “we get it mj. you’re winning… at candyland.” now as she wakes up steve is breaking down (also so great to see a grown man get emotional and cry onstage! yes!! fuck toxic masculinity!!) and he apologizes for not noticing something was wrong earlier, talking about how he messed up. mj, still weak and tired responds “im detoxing from opiates… i win.” such a good line. they discuss how they need to start communicating more, mj starting to come clean that she has some things she needs to work through and they discuss how she’ll be going to rehab. nick then walks in (frankie visited earlier during mary jane) and mj immediately goes “nick i was wrong. you need to go to the police.” and steve responds “mj. he already did.” they then discuss how frankie is currently downtown at the rally she organized: the rally for bella.

and now we’re at the rally, the setting for no. this is absolutely incredible. the whole ensemble is on stage, the band behind them, jo and phoenix on either side and frankie in the middle holding a sign that says “stand with survivors,” all surrounding bella who stands in the center with her head held high. after the song starts bella and nick have a brief interaction and honestly i was so so happy with how they did this. nick explains that he came forward and apologizes for not doing so earlier. and bella, rightfully so, STAYS ANGRY. i love to see women on stage being allowed to show emotion. she recognizes he did the right thing but she doesn’t immediately forgive him nor should she. she’s still hurt, and what nick did, or didn’t do, will affect her for the rest of her life: “why didn’t you stop him?” she asks. “i don’t know” he responds, “but everyone knows the truth now.” she then calls him out on his privilege, saying “because you said it. why wasn’t it enough for me to say it? you get to be the hero, like always. because of who you are, because of what you look like. they believe you.” “i’m sorry. if i could change anything about my life bella i would go back—” “yeah. so would i.” she walks away and the song continues. most of the ensemble members have solo lines where they stand center stage, their expressions solemn while the rest of the ensemble surrounds them, touching them, enclosing them. then we get to the second chorus and bella’s big part. she stands center again, belting her heart out as the ensemble, frankie and jo all grab their signs and stand by her side. these signs are stunning. some highlights include: “rape affects all genders,” “believe black women,” “tell your story,” “you’re not alone,” “teach consent,” “a call to men,” “don’t tell me what to wear, tell them not to rape,” and, my personal favorite, “don’t get raped” with the “get” and “d” crossed out so it says “don’t rape.” they slowly move toward the front of the stage as they reach the climax of the song, and stand in solidarity in a line across the very front. at the end of the chorus nick picks up the sign frankie was holding earlier, “stand with survivors” and moves to join them and stand next to bella, literally standing with survivors. chills.

now we get to the closing. as thank u plays in the background we once again see mj sitting on the family couch, writing the annual healy christmas letter. she talks about how inspired she is by frankie’s strength, how her daughter’s doing so much for bella who is a rape survivor “like myself.” she then discusses how bella’s case is going to trial and, even though andrew still got into a good college, bella gets to tell her story, “most of us never do.” frankie then sits down next to her and says “i didn’t know what you were going through mom. i guess i never saw you as a… person?” mj laughs. “you’re my kid that’s normal.” she then starts talking about how all she ever wanted was for frankie to fit in there and when frankie tells her she never wanted that mj goes. “i got it wrong. i’m going to start listening.” she tells us nick is taking a year off to be a witness in bella’s case: “he can’t change the past. but he’s looking inside himself to figure out why he didn’t do anything when he had the chance.” she talks about how her and steve are in therapy both couple and individual. and finally, she talks about her time in rehab and the incredible people she met and all that she learned, but how “recovery will last the rest of [my] life.” she cracks some jokes at the expense of the white, privileged, suburban lifestyle she once loved, commenting “i had spent so much time around all of you i forgot what it was like to talk to people who were kind and genuinely had empathy.” the whole family is sitting next to her on the couch now as she finishes up the christmas letter with “xoxo, mj.” as she finishes she goes “i think this will be my last letter” and when asked why she says, “because christmas letters are for assholes.” steve then asks “are you really going to send that” and mj replies “what have i got to lose?” before steve reminds her “you’re not at rock bottom anymore.” frankie then dares her to send it and nick agrees. she hits send in one impulsive click and yells “merry fucking christmas.” you learn begins to play in the background as steve laughs and asks who that went to and mj responds in this hilarious exaggerated whisper: “everyoneeeeee.”

now we have you learn. so beautiful. one thing that isn’t on the soundtrack is that before jo comes in she and frankie talk for a moment. they say they miss each other but we see that jo’s doing well, she has a new girlfriend and she’s finally starting to gain some confidence. she doesn’t have her beanie on!! jo then asks about phoenix and frankie responds “we’re good. we’re just friends.” and then the music starts back up again. as we get to the chorus the whole ensemble joins them and they’re all just rocking out, laughing, smiling, dancing and generally having the time of their lives. so so wholesome i love it so much. watch the video of their performance on good morning america it’s so so cute. the very end everyone slowly leaves and it’s just mj and frankie center stage, holding hands as the final note dies out. so so good.

the bows. omg. at the end they go back and jam w the band and it’s SO CUTE. also frankie and jo always dance off together as they’re leaving the stage. wholesome content.

let me know if there’s anything else at all you’d like to know!! or if anything wasn’t clear. or if you just wanna talk about it. i have many thoughts, some of which aren’t even in this ridiculously long post.

[purkinje-effect]

The Purkinje Effect, 35

Table of Contents. Go to previous. Go to next. Hey holy shit hello you are at Park Street Station and I am begging your patience. At this point we have found a vault we do not want and a lack of cooperation we do not want and no information useful to solving what’s wrong with Vault 82 and we’ve been waiting nine eighteen months for an update.

____________________

The pocket door opened. Before Valentine and Geek lay twenty bodies or more. At the center of the carnage, blood-spattered and spaced out, stood a heavyset man in a black tuxedo and fedora, and a tall lean dark-haired woman in a dove grey sequin evening gown, respectively each wielding a submachine gun and a baseball bat. Angel, the mishmash Mister Handy, had gotten involved in the fray, and hovered at a close distance drenched in blood.

Hancock and ‘Choly are in the middle of that pile, Geek panicked, putting his knuckledusters back on. The fuck happened, that these two mowed down their entire outfit?

The mobsters seemed to be sizing up the odds of overcoming the robot. Before Valentine and Geek could act on their hunch that the’d have to somehow overcome Skinny Malone and Darla themselves, ‘Choly came out from behind some shipping crates with an utter nonchalance, hobbling toward the two mobsters with his cane at a cool pace. He’d slung his rifle over his back, and instead drawn an odd-looking suppressed revolver from the gun harness hidden beneath his white vest. But, he holstered it as he approached Skinny and Darla. If they’d seemed pleased with their job well done, ‘Choly appeared to have shot over the moon.

The chemist was shorter than either of them, and tilted up on his toes to whisper in their ears. Even before he came back on his heels, they had started out of the vault at a full sprint. He clapped his gloves together in delight, transfixed in bliss, and he started to double back to his hiding place, only to stop short.

“Not another step closer.” Hancock cocked his shotgun and steadied it over the top of the crates at ‘Choly. “The fuck was in that dart gun. Why did they do that!”

Valentine and Geek stay frozen in the doorway, still bewildered by the situation. The pink ghoul couldn’t find relief just yet, beyond knowing his companion had survived. 'Choly had not yet noticed their presence, but Hancock had. The ghoul in road leathers only made eye contact with them long enough to communicate with them his dread, before playing it off that he’d been eyeing Angel.

‘Choly crumpled and put up his hands, exasperated.

“But I took care of them for us, didn’t I? Why’s it matter how! Just when I started to think I was doing everything right for once, and now I feel like I’m back to scratch with you. What’s it going to take to win you over? What’s that Pink Plymouth got that I don’t?”

“Don’t make me compare you n’ him. Not fair t’either of you.”

“Mister Carey is right to ask what you believe he did wrong!” Angel approached the chemist and ghoul with the intent to get involved. “Everyone is safe. I’m the only one who’s got any dings or scratches, last I checked. The only mistake I calculate he might’ve made in your eyes is he let those last two criminals live!”

Hancock didn’t budge, his eyes locked on ‘Choly. “Stand down, Angel.”

Its ocular lenses swiveled to its owner.

“Sir?”

“Of course!” ‘Choly teetered on awkward laughter from the stress. “It’s all just a lot of words. Isn’t that right, Hancock? I’m out of bullets, and those were my last three Sweet Nothings. The good mayor wouldn’t fire on an unarmed man, would he?”

Geek squared up his stance, ready to rush the chemist.

“I don’t know about him, but ME--”

He came unstuck, only to meet Valentine’s outstretched arm. The synth wasn’t strong enough to hold back the pink ghoul with just one limb, but the gesture grounded him just enough to get his attention. All the while, he heaved in place.

“If you value your limbs attached, you’ll stay put. That cannibal bluebird will put itself between you and its owner before you can land even one punch.” Valentine cocked the .44 and aimed it at ‘Choly with both hands. “But my aim’s decent enough, I could definitely get a shot in.”

“Geek!” ‘Choly squeaked, jerking to look their way. His wide eyes darted between the two men across the room. “Oh--! You got the door open!”

Geek snarled.

“If I gotta crush that tin can--”

“Woah, woah, woah! Fellas, ease off.” Hancock stood, easing up his grip on the shotgun just a bit. “We’re just. We’re just talkin’. Like he says.”

“Still say fists speak louder’n muzzles. Fuckin’ creep.” Geek scowled at ‘Choly, who stared back with a slighted intensity. “What’s to talk about, then?”

“Seems the Scollay Square Swain’s embroiled in a bit of a love triangle. Par for the course.” Valentine’s cigarette bobbed loose on his lip. He pocketed the gun, hoping Hancock would stand down too. “Thanks for bringing an entourage to bust me out, Hancock.”

Before Hancock could reply, Geek put his hands to the patch of fence on his face. Stuttering, he pointed insistently at Valentine with an awful wide-eyed frown.

“HE WAS LIKE THAT WHEN I FOUND HIM, I SWEAR IT.”

The cigarette fell from Valentine’s mouth, and he blinked. It took him a moment to process the implication there’d ever been a risk of his being eaten. The comprehension sublimated into a sharp barking laugh. Geek let out a tepid chuckle.

“No cannibalizing this bucket of bolts today. Guess we should be proud of ya for good behavior.” Valentine shepherded the conversation back to Skinny and Darla, pointing in the direction they’d vanished off to. “Care to explain what happened here? You tell ‘em they left the oven on or something?”

“You could say that.” ‘Choly resumed leaning into his cane. “They’ll probably run for a good thirty minutes before Nothing wears off... By then, they’ll be so exhausted and dehydrated that they won’t know where they even ended up.”

“You always had that stuff?” Aghast, Geek’s face slacked. “That shit sure as hell ain’t nothin’.”

“We were cornered in, and I’m out of bullets. And darts now, too. I didn’t feel like we had another choice. There were too many of them for Angel to take care of on its own.” ‘Choly sniffed, stiffening even further. “It’s only got a serial number formally, but I’ve been calling it Sweet Nothing. For, ah, the whispering thing. Synthesizing it is almost impossible. It takes a patent precursor from the-- from a military base. I. I have to ration them.” The color washed from his glistening face as he described it. “Before you ask, yes. I used my last three of them.”

Geek started pacing and worked on inhaling his flatware stash. Valentine shifted in place, watching ‘Choly. The chemist buttoned back up, produced a handkerchief, and removed his glasses long enough to wipe his face.

“Before he started running with Darla, I would’ve sworn up and down neither of ‘em deserved to be on the receiving end like that. Some people should never meet. They brought out the absolute worst in each other.”

“You’re one of the only people with enough history with that lunkhead to defend him,” Hancock ribbed. He let out a low whistle and dropped his rifle to his side finally. “That stuff’s gotta have one helluva hangover when it wears off.”

“Can we... walk and talk?” Valentine pressed. “This place’s given me the worst case of cabin fever.”

The two ghouls and synth agreed and started back the way they’d all come, with Valentine leading the way. Angel addressed ‘Choly before he could question the others’ feelings regarding the mobsters.

“Come along, Mister Carey. Can’t let them get too far ahead of us.”

The chemist relented and mounted. He kept his mouth shut, acting closed off from the group. Nick tapped his fedora brim up at ‘Choly.

“The name’s Valentine, by the way.”

“Melancholy. I’m sorry. This is nothing like I expected.”

“I think Hancock’s the only one of us expected anything close t’what happened here,” Geek muttered, in an attempt to deflect any sense of alienation off Nick.

The pink ghoul continued slipping flatware through the gaps in the muzzle.

“You’re still mad. I get that. But look!” Hancock walked backward to face them, and flourished his arms outreached to them, grinning encouragingly. “It was a fantastic idea that we split up. Took way less than an hour. Can you imagine if we’d all gone down that elevator shaft and gotten surprised by Skinny’s lot? Hoo boy! Sure surprised him!”

“Some trust exercise this turned out to be.” Geek zipped up. He patted at his chest with an unconscious thoughtfulness, having fallen behind everybody. “I wanna come back down here, with some muscle an’ extra hands. Accidental or no, stuff from at least half a dozen other vaults got shipped here instead. Includin’ 82. You remember the invoice at Vault-Tec HQ, John? Two gardening kits? One of ‘em’s down there in the cafeteria, still in the crate. Other one might be, too.”

“Done and done! I’ll bring some of the Neighborhood Watch down here, tote it back to Goodneighbor. We can crack it open, take a look at it. See what they intended to ship out.”

“What’s so important about some gardening kit?” ‘Choly barely shoved down an acrimonious whine. “Mine didn’t have any plants in it, living or dead.”

“Vault-Tec typically set up each location with its own sustainable food sources,” Valentine explained. “Any vault that saw continued use longer than the experiment’s intended course either had to continue relying on those same indoor farms to do so, or resign to trading with outsiders. Vault produce is some of the cleanest and healthiest there is, provided you can broker their trust. Two vaulties whose vaults didn’t have any produce whatsoever, though. That’s mighty curious.” The synth grinned when it clicked for him. “Hancock! You scraped together the help of two vault dwellers to get the vault door open. Color me impressed.”

“I have my moments.” Hancock rolled his shoulder, only to grunt from an injury sustained from the scuffle. “Course, doesn’t hurt two vault dwellers happened to be in Goodneighbor at the same time...”

“Kit wasn’t the only thing I found, though.” Geek pulled one of the Vault 114 Vault Suits from his coveralls and zipped back up. He handed it up to ‘Choly with a shit-eating sneer. “A souvenir, Ruski. Dunno about you, but I’m glad this ain’t the hole I crawled out of.”

“I, yes. Hear hear.”

‘Choly hastily shoved the jumpsuit into Angel’s storage compartment. He tried to spur Angel to go on without the others, but the Mister Handy would not.

“You and I are out of ammunition, Sir. None of us is in any condition to get in further scuffs, especially not alone. We must stick together to protect one another.”

“I, hah. Hah. Yes. Of course. How, how silly of me.”

“Something the matter, Melancholy?” Valentine wondered, dripping with irony.

‘Choly’s mouth became a thin line, and he kept himself and Angel off to the side without straying too far.

“I suppose I just realized I left the oven on.”

The synth murmured, and fell back to walk alongside Geek with a nearly paternal earnest.

“Vault 82, you said. You really are from out of town, aren’t you?”

“Family’s from Providence.” He couldn’t place why, but despite his appetite issues, he felt comfortable conversing with this synth. Though the very notion of the armature beneath the skin of a synth had always nettled him, Nick’s demeanor felt so... real, so easy to talk to. He could understand why Hancock cared whether this individual was safe. “Y’know anything about 82? This year’s my first time above-ground, and only locals seem to know we’re down there tucked inside a state park. Travel sure don’t seem like a leisurely activity anymore. Say. Fenway Park. I remember a sign, a... Valentine’s Detective Agency. You that Valentine?”

“Yours truly. Take it you didn’t travel for leisure?”

“My vault’s got these food dispenser machines. I think they’re fritzin’, ‘cause everybody’s been gettin’ sick. But it’s all we eat, and all we can eat anymore, after two centuries livin’ off the stuff. I figure, with the reason you came down here, that the kinda sleuthin’ you do is mostly missing persons cases. But you mentioned some knowledge regarding vaults. Are you positive no other vaults you know of have food dispensers? They produce a... ration paste. Like a custard, but good for ya.”

“You came all the way out here, looking for a way to save your vault’s population. If you’re not averse to working with a synth detective, I might be able to lend a few circuits. Hopefully turn this into a productive cross-state adventure.”

“Doubt it’d hurt to have a fresh set of eyes on this. Dunno your rates, but--”

Valentine waved him down with a smile.

“...Well, now that I’m free to report back to Darla’s parents what happened, I can close that case... and take on another, if you’d like. I’d even do it pro bono, all things considered. This aims to save lives here. Not to mention, you did just rescue lil’ ol’ me.” Before Geek could say a word, he continued. “Give me some time to catch up in Diamond City. I’ll go through my paperwork, to see if I can’t locate any information that would be useful. Is three days good for you? And I should probably borrow the .44 a little longer, if that’s all right with you. To get home in one piece. I’ll return it when you come visit my office. How’s that sound?”

“I, of course. You bet. Thanks. ...Not t’be difficult, but I’m not allowed back in Diamond City.”

“The ‘no ghouls’ thing isn’t as strictly enforced as you’d think.”

“The ghoul thing’s recent. Like, last week recent. And unrelated. I pissed off one of the merchants and she got me kicked out.”

“I don’t even have to guess. Myrna.”

“YES-- Christ.”

The detective laughed as they took the stairs back up into the station terminal.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll smooth it all over before you get there. If you’ve met Myrna, you know the Great Green Jewel’s not just anti-ghoul, but anti-synth, too. And I live there. They make exceptions.”

“Nick, you’re a peach.” Hancock grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m glad Skinny’s bunch didn’t rough you up too bad. The Commonwealth would be worse for wear without you in it, man.”

“Most of us want to see good and justice in the world. The only thing that makes me different is, my desire for that’s programmed.”

As they stepped out onto the Common streets again, Hancock patted Valentine on the shoulder.

“Don’t sell yourself short, my friend. We won’t keep you. I know at least three people back in Diamond City alone who’ve probably been worried sick about you for weeks.”

“Sure is great to feel useful and wanted,” ‘Choly snapped. He managed to finally spur Angel onward now that they’d emerged topside. The chemist and robot zipped off toward Goodneighbor.

Nick shot a stern stinkeye his way from under the brim of his hat, but said nothing until he and the robot had vanished around a corner.

“You really know how to pick ‘em some days, Hancock.”

“Give the guy a break. He’s still grappling with a bends-deep case of Rip Van Winkle Syndrome. He’s probably just weirded out by your... you-ness.”

Nick took a little too long to reply, obviously preoccupied.

“I’m going to... take his cue and scram, too. I’ll see you in a few days, kids.”

“Toodles!” Hancock waved to him, and got to walking with Geek.

“Toodles?” Geek rolled his eye at him. “--Ugh, finally.”

He ripped off the muzzle, and poured the open box of Abraxo Powder straight into his mouth.

“I am not going to ask where you got that.”

Go to Next »»»

[sciencelings-writes]

Last Man Standing

Summary: I wanted to write another endgame/ infinity war fix it where instead of Peter dusting, It’s Tony. shit goes a little crazy from there. 8.7k words, get ready fam. AO3 LINK

Peter sat in the guardian’s ship, frozen in place. He was in shock. Because the worst thing that could happen, happened again. 

He was gone, Mr. Stark was gone. Tony was gone. Disintegrating into dust after a single glance into Peter’s eyes. No goodbye. Not like Ben. Uncle Ben had moments more than Tony did. Bleeding out. Peter didn’t know which was worse, A father figure dying in front of him, slowly, being able to hear his heartbeat slow and stop or his new father figure disappearing without even a chance to say a word. Just look into his eyes, looking worried but not having any time to think about it. 

Peter had time to think about it. Too much time. He had worked with the blue cyborg woman to repair the ship for a few days. At least then he could distract himself. But she was working on getting them to earth, and he could only think. Or sleep. But sleeping was so much worse. 

He had been zoning out for god knows how long. Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity and he didn’t feel like he was in his body at a certain point. He was only shaking out of it because of Nebula’s, the blue woman’s monotone voice. 

“You need to eat.” She ordered simply. He took the space food out of her hand and muttered a thanks. Peter’s normally talkative demeanor was snuffed out after they lost. Nebula wasn’t much of a talker to begin with and they worked together out of necessity. Peter would always be thankful that she didn’t leave him alone on the planet even though she totally could have. 

Once she got autopilot fixed and had no need to stay in the cockpit, she seemed to always be near him. Not close but within her silent gaze. He would try to fill his time by tinkering with extra parts and pacing around. 

They had their real conversation a full week into flying in space. While they were frantically trying to upgrade the air recycling system so they wouldn’t die days away from earth. They had already run out of food and Peter was growing weaker but air was a little more important. 

“Was he your father?” Nebula said dryly as Peter took out the power source from his Iron spider suit. It was a tiny arc reactor hidden in the spider on his chest, made out of nanites. 

“Uh, kinda… not really. He’s my mentor but he is… was kinda like a dad to me. You know, teaching me how to be a hero and scolding me when I was being dumb…” His voice was a little hoarse from not being used and from not getting enough water in attempt to conserve it. 

“You are lucky. My father was the one we were fighting.” 

“Ouch, that’s rough. I thought my luck with father figures was bad…” This managed to lift the sides of Nebula’s mouth for the hint of a smile. It was gone faster than it came, she didn’t seem used to small talk. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him.” She grumbled as they worked. 

“It happened to your friends too and half of the universe if I remember. I don’t even know if we are the lucky half.” 

“We aren’t.” Nebula muttered. Peter knew she was right. It was much harder to live than it was to die. 

Eventually, the work was done and they could rest. The would probably have a few more days of air but they both knew they wouldn’t get to earth fast enough. If they had to die, they would die together and Peter would really rather not die but if he had to die, at least he wasn’t alone. 

He tried to hang out with Nebula more, explain earth things, show her how to play games like thumb wars, where she almost broke his hand. She would indulge him, knowing they were not far from suffocating to death. Or starving to death… or dehydrating to death. Whichever one happened first. 

Peter got weaker and weaker without the food to sustain him. Nebula had given him her last ration. They were out of fuel, out of water, hours away from being out of air, out of food and out of hope. 

They were still so many days away from earth when it got to the point where Peter couldn’t even stand. Nebula sat with him. She even picked him up and placed him on the co-pilots chair so that he could look at the stars instead of the dirty metal. 

He was so so tired. It was probable that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again. If he was hydrated enough to have tears come to his eyes, they would be. They were so close to death and so far away from home. And he was so tired… 

His eyes closed, for what he thought would be the last time and he wondered what he would see. Would he see Ben? Tony? Would his mom and dad be up there? Maybe Nebula would see her sister again. Maybe there would be nothing at all. The thought made him strangely at peace. The pain would be over, the sorrow wouldn’t weigh him down, it would all be over. 

That’s when a bright light apeared on the other side of his eyelids. He peeked them open, squinting his eyes as it had been so long since he had seen something so bright. Was this it? Was he dead? 

The light faded slightly and revealed a blonde woman smiling. Was she an angel? Peter was delirious but it was a nice thought. Maybe she would take him to wherever Ben and Tony were. 

She didn’t. She flew under their ship and carried it home. Peter fought to stay awake, he tried to call out to Nebula to tell her about the angel but his voice wasn’t very loud. He smiled knowing that they were saved. 

They landed near Avengers Compound, there were people waiting for them. The glowing angel woman had to help Peter out of the ship but he made it. He had never been more excited to breathe in his life. 

Captain America ran up to them. Before he could say anything Peter whimpered out a few words. 

“I’m sorry… I lost him.” 

“We lost,” Cap said sorrowfully. As if Peter couldn’t already tell. Pepper and Rhodey came running after Steve, they weren’t as fast as a super-soldier but they had much more reason to run towards the ship. Tony could’ve been on it. The thought made a ping of pain ripple through Peter’s chest. 

“Did Tony-” Pepper started. She didn’t finish. She saw the look in Peter’s eyes and she knew. She put a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob and Rhodey tried to look composed but Peter could see him trembling. 

“I’m so sorry…” Peter wheezed before starting a brief coughing fit that made him blackout for a moment. It was kind of spooky.  The glowing angel woman still held him up and advised that they take him to the med bay. 

That was the last thing he heard before everything went dark, thankfully, not for the last time. 

***

He woke up after a terrible dream. By the time his eyes were open, he had already forgotten it but he still felt his heart race and sweat, the moisture of fear, in several uncomfortable places. He noticed the sweat and looked at the optimistic side. He was hydrated. He had enough water in his body that he could sweat. 

Then he noticed everything else. He had needles and tubes everywhere they could medically stick him. His throat hurt, probably from having a feeding tube shoved down it. He had an IV and as many monitors that would fit on his malnourished body. The only other person in the room was Pepper. She was on her tablet and he noticed that there were slight shadows under her eyes. He knew he looked a whole lot worse though. 

“Ms. Potts?” He said weakly. She looked up quickly and plastered on a fake smile. 

“Hey, Pete. Did you sleep well?” 

“Uh, Yeah.” he lied, “Did Aunt May…” his voice shook as he left the question hanging, suspecting the answer. 

“I’m sorry Peter, she didn’t make it…” he looked down and avoided her gaze. Preparing himself did nothing and it was like the knife that was left by Tony’s death and it was now being twisted. In other words, it fucking sucked. 

“This is a pretty sucky fifty percent huh…” Peter muttered after a wet sob. 

“Yeah… you could say that.” Pepper smiled sadly as she wiped a few tears from her own eyes. 

“Who else did we lose?” Peter asked, desperate for a distraction. 

“The kind of Wakanda, his sister came with us to the compound, she wants to be part of the solution. Uh, Sam Wilson, you know, falcon, Nick Fury, Ant-Man…” she went on, naming everyone from celebrities to anyone she thought he would know. Including his friends. 

The next few days were the worst of his life. He had to deal with everyone he was close to being dusted and being unable to get out of bed. The later was much less painful but it still bothered him. It made him feel useless in addition to absolutely destroyed and depressed. 

Eventually, enough was enough. He took out everything except for the IV as he was still dehydrated and could roll it around pretty easily. He carefully got himself into his wheelchair and rolled himself to where his enhanced senses heard the somber avengers gathering. 

Peter was surprised but not that surprised to see a raccoon in clothes in the room with the remaining heroes. He’s seen aliens, it wasn’t that weird to see a talking raccoon with a familiar accent. 

“Kid, what are you doing out and about?” Rhode said, looking mildly concerned. 

“I got sick of just sitting on my ass.” He grumbled. “Now, does anyone have any idea what we’re going to do or did I just exchange sitting on my ass with access to a comfortable bed for sitting on my ass in a room full of depression?” 

“If we find Thanos and get the infinity stones back, we can theoretically bring everyone back.” Doctor Banner said calmly. He ignored Peter’s grumpy mood, everyone dealt with major tragedies differently.  

“We couldn’t keep the stones from him, now he has the most powerful weapon in the galaxy and we have half the ranks with some of our best indistinguishable from the sand on a beach. And you want to go back and try again. Like he can’t just snap his fingers and have you join the rest of the universe. Yeah, that’s pretty stupid.” Peter spat as he settled near the holograms listing the people who were dusted. 

“Well, do you have any other ideas?” Cap sighed. 

“Yeah, anything but that.” Peter groaned. “You’ll all get killed and then the universe will have no hope. Maybe we can contain the stones or something.” 

“We wouldn’t be able to do any tests, if it doesn’t work we’re all dead.” Doctor Banner shrugged. 

“Tony Stark’s nanotech sheild deflected a direct blast from the purple infinity stone. That’s at least a start.” 

“The purple one… that’s the power stone kid! So this dead guy deflected a hit from the power stone with his tech? I’d like to get a hold of that…” The raccoon exclaimed. 

“You know, it’s really too bad that this all couldn’t have been avoided…” Peter looked directly at Captain America. He didn’t know why he was consumed with such irrational anger because he would never act this way normally. His line had been crossed weeks ago when Mr. Stark died in front of him. He was just at a point where he didn’t give a fuck. 

“What are you even talking about kid?” Steve raised an annoyingly calm eyebrow. 

“If only everyone was all together to fight him at once rather than separated and weaker. We almost got the gauntlet off with only like seven people, imagine if it was all of you guys too…” Peter hissed. “You know Tony warned you about this. He knew something was coming and nobody listened.” 

“Ultron was made because of his paranoia.” 

“So was the Vision. He was our superman and the only being I would trust with the infinite power that he was given. It really sucks because if you all just stuck together and you know, didn’t become war criminals because you had your heads so far up Mr. perfects ass, Tony would still be alive, along with all of my friends and the only family I had left.” Peter gradually started to yell. He had just held too much in for too long and apparently now was the time to let it out. 

Most infuriating of all, Steve just stood there. He didn’t try to argue with Peter, he didn’t make any kind of retort. He just stood there with a blank expression. 

“If you had any sort of trust in him, he would still be alive!” Peter ripped his IV out of his arm, it was just in the way and it had become one of the things that were just holding him back. He shakily stood up in his adrenaline-filled fury. 

“Whoa kid-” Rhodey put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder but it did nothing to hold him back. 

“No matter how strong and mighty you think you are, you’re nothing compared to the guy that killed him. Don’t let your fucking ego get in the way of the fate of the universe! A fucking wizard with fucking magic couldn’t take this guy down! You’re just full of steroids and misplaced self-confidence.” Peter limped his way to Steve with so much rage in his eyes that the man several inches taller backed away a little. “ So yeah, I’ve got nothing for you. No plan, no ideas, no trust, LIAR!” he had an accusing finger stabbing at Steve’s chest. 

This, of course, was the exact time he started to feel light-headed. He stumbled back a little and barely caught his footing. After not standing for so long, thirty full seconds made his useless body want to give up. 

He could sense angel lady and Rhodey being ready to catch him when he inevitably fell. He looked at Cap one last time, who also seemed like he was worried that Peter was going to fall. 

“I… I don’t feel so good-” His voice shook, less than a second later, his vision turned black and he collapsed to the floor. 

The next time he woke up, it was days later. He physically felt as good as new but that changed when he was told what happened while he was sedated. The Avengers came back with Thanos’ blood on their hands but no infinity stones. Thanos had the last laugh when he used the stones to destroy the stones. He destroyed the only thing that could get everyone back and it finally sunk in what happened. They were all gone. And unless they had some reality-defying solution, it would be for good. 

***

FIVE YEARS LATER

***

Peter had moved on. Or at least he thought he did. For the first year after the snap, he put all his effort into finding a solution. He didn’t find one. He had to move on. Without MJ or Ned or even Flash, he didn’t have a reason to stay in the same grade. He finished high school early. He sped through college and when he turned eighteen, he revealed his identity to the world and became an official avenger. 

He also became best friends with the new black panther and queen of Wakanda. They were both incredibly smart and the same age and were enhanced with the theming of an animal. She was the only person he could feel normal with. Well, It started out as best friends, it evolved a little beyond that. 

They became an unstoppable duo, superheroing and not superheroing. They made a pretty good team in smash. Shuri always played Samus and Peter always played Kirby. Peter visited Wakanda when he couldn’t stand living in the city, they worked endless hours in her labs and alternated music choices to blast at ungodly volumes. It was some of the best times of his life. 

He moved past Thanos and he finally felt kind of stable. That was until Scott Lang came back from the quantum realm with ideas that have already been thought of. Peter and Shuri had already tried time travel to get their loved ones back but for some reason, this was different. Scott came to them. Most people wouldn’t come to them, they were often underestimated for their intelligence and sometimes ego was a larger factor than actual intellect. 

Ant-Man came to Peter and Shuri because right now, they were his best bet to get everyone back. At the moment, they were probably the smartest people on the planet. Sure it wasn’t as taboo as when they were teenagers but they were still too young to be respected as tech geniuses.

But Peter wasn’t ready to change everything again. He had finally found peace after years of trauma and loss. Of course he wanted everyone back but he didn’t know if trying again would just make everything worse. The world had moved on and accepted what happened. It had been over for years, reopening old wounds, potentially for nothing, did not sound fun. 

That’s why he said no at first. Even the idea of Thanos still scared the shit out of him. Thanos was dead. At least this version of Thanos was. If they went back in time to get the stones… Thanos would still be alive. Peter thought he had seen the last of that dried eggplant asshole. 

He worked on the time travel simulations after Shuri had gone to bed. Scott was staying in a guest room in the palace and Peter was all alone, with barely any hope, trying to solve time travel. Then he did it. At two AM when he was about to give up, he did it. The simulation worked. With the information Scott had about the quantum realm, they could use it to time travel and actually control where they went. 

He could get them back… May, Tony, Ned, MJ… all of them. He could bring them back… 

He spent the rest of the night crying with joy until he fell asleep on his desk. For once his sleep was peaceful. He dreamed of seeing them again. 

***

“I figured it out.” He brought up, out of nowhere the first time they were all gathered for a hologram meeting with the avengers all around the world and the few in space. “Time travel. I figured it out. We can get the stones from the past and use them now to bring everyone back.” 

There was silence for a moment as everyone thought about what he said. 

“You… figured out time travel?” Natasha said and if Peter wasn’t mistaken, she sounded impressed. 

“At least the method. It will take a few days to make the actual time machine. But it is possible and my simulations have been successful. We only have enough Pym particles for nine of us round trip excluding two tests. We’ll have to split up into teams to collect the stones so that we can get to them all. We can discuss everything at the compound after the machine is built so… avengers assemble I guess.” Peter said calmly, but he couldn’t keep a smile from his face. 

“Well, you heard Spider-Man, Avengers Assemble.” 

***

Peter decided not to go on the time-traveling adventure. They would need tech geniuses on both sides, just so nothing would go wrong. Shuri would go with Professor Hulk, Captain America, and Ant-Man to New York 2012, Carol would go with Rhodey to get the power stone from some planet in the past, punk Hawkeye and Black widow were going for the soul stone, and hobo Thor with Rocket, going to Asgard for the reality stone. The hulk had managed to get Thor out of his hole in New Asgard. 

Hawkeye had tested the time machine by going into the past and saving some enhanced kids’ life. Someone named Piedro. He was apparently the magic girl’s brother. Well, she better be thankful when they bring her back from the dust.   

“Everyone ready?” Peter said as he flipped all the switches and pressed all the buttons that he needed to get the large time machine set up. The avengers came into the room wearing their black and red quantum nano suits sans helmets. 

The vibranium gauntlet that was to hold the infinity stones was waiting to be used beside him. It was hard to accept that for him, it was only going to be a minute before all of the stones were together. They were so close to bringing everyone back that it was almost impossible for Peter to wrap his head around it. 

The Avengers took their places on the platform with Shuri bringing up the rear. Before she started on the steps, she leaned down to where he was sitting and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She smirked at how red his face turned. Natasha snorted at his reaction. Rocket scoffed something that Peter couldn’t quite hear. 

“Stay safe your highness. And uh, I guess everyone else.” Peter smiled shyly. “Okay, sending you all off in 3… 2...1!” He twisted a nob and everything started to glow. In a flash, everyone was gone. 

“And they should be back in… 3… 2… 1!” He talked to himself as a flash of light flooded the room and everyone was back. Well, almost everyone. Everyone’s helmets disappeared and Natasha had tears in her eyes. Clint wasn’t in the group that came back. There was a moment of silence between all of the Avengers and Shuri jogged towards Peter and almost suffocated him in a hug.

“Woah woah, what happened? You okay?” He said worriedly. 

“It’s fine, there were just a few bumps in the road.” She sighed. She looked a little bruised and had a few bloody wounds, nothing too bad though. 

“It was a sacrifice…” Natasha said weakly. “It was the only way to get the stone…” 

The room went quiet once again. They weren’t prepared for a casualty. 

***

 They would mourn Clint later, they had all the stones and could finally get everyone back. Peter’s veins were filled with adrenaline. He had never been so excited in his life. He wanted everyone back so fucking bad, but so much had changed. Would they even recognize him now? He was in his early twenties, he had grown so much. Physically and as a person. God, he was probably taller than Tony now… 

“I’ll do it.” Carol interrupted his train of thought. Oh yeah, they were trying to decide who would do the snap. “I can absorb the energy that tries to damage me. I’m the safest option.” She said definitively. Thor and Professor Hult seemed to try to argue but Carol talked them down. It wouldn’t hurt her as it would hurt them. She was practically made of infinity stone energy, if anything, it could make her stronger. 

Peter had used an enclosed robot arm to place the stones in the dark vibranium gauntlet and it was ready to be used. Carol picked it up and put it on impatiently. They had already waited five years for this moment, none of them wanted to wait any longer. 

Arcs of multi-colored light grew on Carol’s arm, she didn’t even wince. She closed her eyes and snapped. There was no more lead up, she just did it. 

Peter was the only one that felt an immediate change. He felt what he could only describe as a sigh of relief. It was like all the background noise he tended to tune out was doubled. He just felt the presence of people. It worked. Oh god, it worked. After all this time, they did it. Holy fuck.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment, it was just something that they couldn’t wait to be done. There was no music to confirm that everyone was back, they just had to trust that it worked. It only took a moment for the changes to prove that they happened. 

Peter’s phone rang. He whipped it out at the speed of light and sobbed a little when he saw who it was. He didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Peter? Is that you? Can you please tell me what’s going on?” May’s voice sounded a little bit shaky. It took Peter a moment to find his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me… It’s a little bit of a long story.” He quickly wiped a tear from his eye and shuffled out of the room of avengers. He didn’t what them staring at him. They probably also had a few calls to make. Including one to Clint’s family. 

“Why does your voice sound so weird? Are you sick?” May asked. 

“My voice is not what you should be focusing on. A whole lot has happened. You might want to sit down…” He said as he did the same. He knew May would be distraught for missing out on his life but it’s not like she had a choice. 

“Peter!” Carol’s voice came frantically from the other room. “Kid! Get in the quinjet!” 

“Sorry May, I’ve got to go. I’ll explain everything later!” Peter knew that if Carol was panicking, something must have really gone wrong. He ended the call and jumped up to sprint outside to the quinjet. He could vaguely sense the rest of the avengers following him, with a little bit of emphasis on Rocket’s scampering on all fours like the animal he looked like. 

Carol scrambled to the pilot’s seat and everyone, even those who could fly independently, filed into the dark jet. 

“Okay, can someone tell me what the hell is going on now?” Peter groaned as he stood behind Nebula who was in the co-pilots chair. 

“Sorry kid, I guess I got ahead of myself.” Carol sighed. “I just wanted to bring everyone back, I didn’t think that the black order would come back too.” 

“Including Thanos or not including Thanos?” Peter’s voice shook and may have risen a few octaves. 

“We don’t know, but their ships are gathering above New York City.” 

“We still have the infinity stone right? You can just dust them can’t you?” 

“The gauntlet is practically unusable.  Even made of vibranium it couldn’t stand the strength of the infinity stones.”

“You absorbed the first snap, right? Maybe you could just hold the stones or something.” He said frantically as they took off and headed to the city at full speed. It would only take them a few minutes to get there. 

“I almost couldn’t contain the power from the first one with the gauntlet. If I used them without it, I’d explode.”

“Then explode near their ships,” Peter suggested.  

“I’ll think about it.” She snorted in response. “I can deal with the ships and hopefully the black order is easily knocked off of the playing board. We need people dealing with civilians.” 

“I’ll go. My weapons didn’t do much to these guys last time…” Rhodey said. 

“Me too.” Natasha nodded. “Unless you want me to sneak on their ship and take hold of their weapons. I can do that too.” 

“Can I come?” Antman asked as his mask flipped on his head. “I can help with small stuff!” 

“Sure, go for it,” Carol said, accidentally becoming the leader instead of the other captain. Neither of them really seemed to care. 

Peter stayed quiet as they discussed plans, he thought this was all over… He thought Thanos was gone but apparently, he might not be and that scared the shit out of him. Only minutes ago he was pretty damn happy that they brought everyone back but now it could all be undone again and Peter really wasn’t ready. 

Okay maybe he was panicking a little but not one was noticing so it didn’t matter. Maybe he was just overthinking it, they had everyone back, it wouldn’t be like last time. 

“Spidey, were you listening?” Shuri seemed to realize that Peter was having a little bit of trouble but didn’t point it out. 

“Uh, kinda. You should repeat it just to make sure…” 

“We’re splitting up the stones since we can’t exactly use them. Carol is taking the power stone since she’s the only one that can hold it, I’m taking the mind stone because I might be able to figure it out, Cap gets time, yadda yadda yadda. You get the Soul Stone. The guardian of the soul stone said that it was different from the other stones so we need someone special to protect it. Someone fast and with a danger sense. Anyway, we’re about there. Just make sure the stones are split up so that we can defeat Thanos without them. Got it? Cool.” Shuri rambled at a speed that only Peter could follow along with.

“Cool.” Peter put on his web-shooters and activated the nanites inside them. The nanotech left their containment and covered his body in his suit. He had adjusted the design of the iron spider suit and even got vibranium added to the mix. There were several lines and points in the suit that had a slight indigo glow from the metal but Peter kept the bright red sections. For the aesthetic. It was the perfect amalgamation of starktech and Shuri’s Wakandan technology with Peter’s own designs sprinkled throughout. 

Carol gave him the little orange stone. It seemed too small to be one of the most powerful items in the galaxy. Even through his suit, it was warm. He could feel it’s energy. He put it in a pocket in his web-shooter. Normally the place had extra web fluid but he forgot to refill it. It managed to be the perfect size, thank god. 

Then he remembered that people were sacrificed for this little glowing rock. Hawkeye… Nebulas sister… This tiny stone definitely was different than the others. The other ones could be stollen, this one had to be paid, and the price was a little steep by Peter’s standards. 

He really hoped that the soul stone wasn’t affected by inflation and that it was always a soul for a soul. Maybe a thousand years ago it was a different cool rock for the magic glowing stone. Like a geode from a national park gift shop for the soul stone. He realized that he may have zoned out a little. 

The quinjet hovered above the city and the avengers got ready to jump out. Flyers automatically paired up with non-fliers. Nebula stayed in the cockpit to man the jet while Carol paired herself up with Natasha. Rhodey had Rocket snarling on his shoulder with a gun as big as he was. 

One by one, the pairs of avengers leaped out of the quinjet. Except for Captain America, who didn’t need anyone to jump with, he didn’t even have a parachute. From what Peter knew about Steve, that was completely normal. 

Peter put his arm safely around Shuri’s waist and jumped out. Shuri whooped like she was on a rollercoaster as if they weren’t going into battle with a resurrected intergalactic warlord. It’s not like he hasn’t taken her web-slinging before, in much safer circumstances. 

The city was smoldering and civilians were running as far away as they could. Tripping on debris on the way. Peter spotted people stuck in a crumbling building and as if they had a neurological connection, he and Shuri went to work. 

There was a reason they were paired up so often. They were an extremely fluid team that was constantly on the same page. They never had to tell each other what to do, they just knew what they were doing. Okay, they weren’t perfect but they had worked together for years and they knew each other pretty well. Shuri usually depended on Peter to catch her when she fell and he usually did. 

This was why when Peter threw Shuri into the window of the building, she didn’t swear at him. With both of his hands free and Shuri in the building with the trapped people, he was able to make a large net with his webs. Shuri helped the family jump into the webbing for Peter to escort to the ground, to run as far away from the carnage as fast as they could. 

They carried on like this, staying away from the main fight and helping everyone that needed to be helped until a flash of light caught Peter’s attention. He and Shuri were on a building only a few buildings away from where the flash came from. 

It was him. It was Thanos. Below him was Steve, bloody and bruised and broken. He looked dead but Peter hoped otherwise. The glowing green gem hovered in between the mad titan’s massive fingers. One stone down… five to go. Peter shuttered at the thought. The time stone was one of the worst ones for him to get first. Well, any of them would be terrible for him to have but Time was a really bad start. 

The purple Hitler alien grinned smugly and sent the black order out to find the rest of the stones. He did so, very dramatically. 

“We need to split up,” Peter said urgently.

“That’s what I was going to suggest. We’ve already been risking it with two infinity stone so close together. I wouldn’t be surprised if that asshole can smell them like a dog.” She hissed. She took a precious moment that they could’ve spent running by giving him an urgent kiss. “For luck?” she suggested as she jumped off of the roof. Peter rolled his eyes but started web-slinging the opposite way. He could already tell that he would need that good luck. 

For the next half hour, everything was so chaotic that Peter wasn’t sure he could perceive it all. He was pretty sure that he pulled someone from under the debris of a collapsed building, he saved a kid from space Voldemorts telepathic attacks that were missing whatever avenger he was currently after. 

One by one, Thanos collected the stones, whether through his minions or himself. He took down each avenger, one at a time. If they had a stone or not. They lost Space, Reality, Mind, and Power. Peter became the last Avenger with an infinity stone. He became the last avenger standing. 

When he saw the yellow flash of light, he knew Shuri was caught and he stopped whatever he was doing. He cried out a few choice expletives, Hoping that the bastard had only taken the stone and not her life. 

Peter was the last one left. If Captain Marvel couldn’t kick this guys ass, there was no way that he could. Everyone was down except for him. That was a lot of pressure. Not many things could distract him from what was happening in front of him but something managed. 

There was a burning pain through his wrist, where he hid the soul stone. It didn’t distract him long, he could ignore it for a minute. But he had to do something. He was the only one that could do something. 

So he stepped out into the light and let his nanite mask retract. He wanted his face to show. He wanted to breathe the burning air and he wanted to show Thanos that he wasn’t afraid. This was odd because he had been scared to death of Thanos for half a decade, to a point where he had panic attacks over it, but now, all he felt was rage. A hot burning rage that ignited his veins. 

He snuck around the broken city in complete silence. His plan could only work if he had the element of surprise. He couldn’t go against all of the black order and Thanos at once. After an eternity of obsessively controlling his breathing and every movement he made, he was in position. He was right behind Thanos. 

He took a breath. A moment to collect his thoughts before shit went down and he was going to get hurt. In… and out... In … and out. He lept into action. 

In a flash, he flipped over the titan and grabbed blindly at the gems already in the gauntlet. Good news, he managed to get one. Bad news, it was the power stone and Thanos grabbed him by the throat before he was able to get away. His arm burned with the violet energy as Thanos inspected him with a chuckle that only a bad guy could utter. 

“They gave a child the soul stone?” 

“I know I look young but come on, I don’t look that young.” He wheezed and wasted what little breath he had. His arm still burned but it was fading, it was as if the soul stone and the power stone were canceling each other out.

“It is impressive how long you were able to evade us, but my will is inevitable, the fight is done now. Give me the stones or I will rip them from your corpse.” The titan said calmly as if he was actually giving Peter the choice and not threatening to murder him.  

“I don’t think I will.” Peter rasped. “Jesus Christ, if you let me breathe I might be able to actually talk to you… is this normally how negotiations work with you?” Peter noticed his fist holding the power stone and in the same hand as the soul stone was starting to heat up. Not burning destructively like it was before, but with power that was starting to course through him. 

Thanos tightened his grip and raised Peter to the sky, cutting off his air and displaying him thousands of feet in the air. That’s when he started to hear a distantly familiar noise. Like a sparkler on the fourth of July multiplied by a million. He could see golden sparks out of the corners of his eyes. Thanos’s expression tightened but he didn’t react to the portals that Peter knew were starting to appear on top of buildings around him.

“Kid?” A painfully familiar voice yelled from somewhere behind him. He was starting to blackout, his lungs begged painfully for air but he couldn’t even gasp. “Let go of him!” 

Peter smiled in between dry gasping like a fish out of water. He saw his fist glowing the orange of the soul stone with a fiery intensity. He closed his eyes and reached out to the soul stone. He finally understood. The little glowing rock was alive. The Soul was the most alive thing in the universe. And it was just as angry as Peter was. 

Peter’s vision went white. Not because Thanos had successfully choked him to death, but because of the blast. The energy from the soul stone in contact with the power stone caused a concentrated white-hot explosion that didn’t even affect Peter. He wasn’t blown back, he just landed on the roof of the building as Thanos and the black order all around him were blown away with ease. 

He frantically turned around, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Tony but his spider-sense went off before he could see his long lost mentor. He jumped off the skyscraper before a blast of energy could catch him off guard. 

The soul stone led him to the fallen avengers which were all thankfully, not dead. Peter reached out his hand and the cloudy orange energy lazily floated into their bodies like fog. Wounds faded and gasps of breath echoed from around them. Once Peter knew they were okay, he left. 

He swung up to a vacant rooftop and took his first full look at the reinforcements. There were at least four armies, the Wakandan army led by T’Challa, The Asgardian Army led by Valkarie, a mess of aliens behind the resurrected guardians of the galaxy and a few hundred wizards in matching robes, led by Doctor Strange. That wasn’t even including all of the undusted avengers and other heroes that stood at the front lines. 

Then, Peter saw a glint of red fly out of the corner of his eye and smiled as he turned his head towards it. Moments later, Tony landed in a fresh bleeding-edge suit, his helmet melted back faster than Peter thought that it could. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark. It’s been a little while.” Peter was staying cool for now but he was so close to crying. Tony looked exactly like he did before, maybe a little smaller but that was probably on Peter’s side. He did grow a few inches over the years. 

“Peter? Is that really you? You look so… mature.” The man joked and raised his eyebrow. 

“I better be, It’s been five years after all... You have been gone for a hot second.” Peter grinned, just glad to see Tony alive and in front of him. He could hear Tony’s heartbeat and it was the most beautiful sound. 

“Five years? That’s why you’re so tall.” Peter laughed at Tony’s reaction and couldn’t restrict himself any longer, he hugged his old man. 

“I missed you… you don’t even know…” It took a moment but Tony hugged back, just as tightly. 

“Thank god someone did, That strange guy seemed rather annoyed that I was with them on Titan.” 

“Wait, shit,” Peter pulled back from the hug, “We’re in the middle of a fight. Hugs later okay, the big bad guy still has four singularities that are super powerful by themselves.” 

“Yeah, that sucks. Want a piggyback ride to the middle of it?” Tony offered as his helmet folded back on.  

“Sure.” Peter shrugged. Moments later, he stood on Iron Mans back like he was a magic carpet. Moments later he dove off to confront Thanos again. This time, he was aware of the power that he held. 

The only thing life really needed was a soul, and Peter had the essence of the soul in his hand. No time, no reality, no mind would change the fact that he was in control of life. That’s why it was the only stone that needed a sacrifice, that’s why it required the ultimate sacrifice. Because it was more powerful than the power gem. It was alive and it was angry. It had a will and a connection to every living thing. Including Thanos. 

Thanos, in all his strength and intelligence, was not immune to the soul stones rage. No time, no space, no reality, no mind could save him. 

It was almost disappointing how easy it was. So anticlimactic. The raging energy ate through the titan like he was paper in a flame. The armor didn’t matter, the stones didn’t matter. In moments, he was gone. After Thanos was defeated, the black order was taken down easily. 

It was over. It was finally over. Everything was back to normal. 

***

Okay, maybe not back to normal but families were reunited, friends were back from the dead and every other problem seemed pretty minuscule. That’s why, after everyone had a nap, the Avengers had a massive party at the compound. 

Everyone’s families were invited, May was there, Carol joyfully hung out with her cat goose, Maria, Monica, and Nick Fury, Sam Wilsons mom was there, she even took the time to make cookies, the Wakandan royal family was there and literally hundreds more people. Everyone was glad to be alive and there was an incredible amount of catching up that needed to be done. 

Both T’Challa, May, and Tony were pretty stunned to see Shuri and Peter together but after a moment of thought, it really made sense. 

Rocket was crying as he hugged a tree teenager and denied the crying bit. He also seemed happy that the rest of his friends were alive, except Nebula’s sister but most of his friends were undusted. 

Thor was still kind of glum but a few conversations with Professor Hulk and Valkarie got him laughing heartily. His family may be gone but he still had his friends. 

Peter reunited with Ned and MJ, which was weird at first because he was older than them, and MJ didn’t know that he was Spider-Man, she suspected but she didn’t really know. It didn’t take long for them to realize that Peter was still Peter even though he was a little taller now. He was still the same nerd who had to refrain from giving away Star Wars spoilers from movies and TV shows they didn’t know existed. 

It wasn’t all good though, while Ned and MJ took advantage of being around every superhero they had ever idolized, May lowkey started flirting with Carol, and Tony was being hogged by Pepper and Happy, Peter stook in a corner, still trying to accept that everything was fixed. 

Even though everyone was back now, he still felt odd. He guessed that everything didn’t just suddenly resolve after everyone was brought back to life. The snap didn’t erase what had already happened. Peter had still spent five years separated from all of his friends and family. He had spent so much time mourning only to get everyone back years later. Those feelings didn’t just disappear. 

It felt like a dream that they were all back. His mind sending him a reminder of what they looked and sounded like but he knew they were real. He could hear their heartbeats and laughs across the room. They were alive and Peter was so happy, they missed so much. 

Peter had changed while they were gone, he was still Peter, he was just more traumatized and more withdrawn. He had grown but he was still the same. He still liked to hang upside down to nap and he was still bad at cooking but not baking. He was just taller and more in tune with his powers and diagnosed with a panic disorder. 

In the long run, those changes wouldn’t matter, at least not to people who truly cared. It would just take them a few weeks to get back into the flow of normal life with the people they thought they lost. 

It was like half of the universe was Captain America-ed for five years where literally everything changed. Earth became part of the universe, known to other planets as a complete powerhouse instead of an easy steal for some galactic empire. There were more humans in space than ever before and the snap affected everything. Ecosystems, culture, interplanetary and international relations, governmental control, and practically every aspect of normal human life was changed forever. 

Peter was shaken out of his thoughts with Shuri handing him a plate full of deserts. He immediately bit into a cookie. 

“Something on your mind?” She asked as she stole the cookie from his hand. He didn’t even react. 

“Yeah, I know everything’s all fixed and everyone is back, but I don’t know, it feels weird.” He shrugged and grabbed another treat from the plate, knowing that the cookie was lost. 

“I know, a lot happened in five years. We already mourned them and cried for them, and poof, they’re back. It’s not bad it’s just, weird.” She nodded. 

“I just don’t feel like the same person that they all knew. Like for them, it’s been five seconds and for us, it’s been five years.” 

“Does it matter? You are you. No matter your age or what you’ve been through. People change and grow and they just have to get used to who you are now.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t turn back time to be sixteen again, I definitely don’t even want to. I like the me that I am now, but it’s not the same as my friends and family know. Whatever, this is a party, not therapy.” 

“That is true, it is time to avoid our problems like there’s no tomorrow!” 

And they did. 

***

It was three in the morning and Peter was still awake. Not because he wasn’t tired, he definitely was, but because he was afraid of what would come when he closed his eyes. Instead of sleeping, he was in Tony’s lab. He had spent so much time there during the five years of missing his mentor. 

Working always helped, it kept him focused. It was calming and it came naturally for him. He played music in the background that was everything from comedy bands to musicals to modern rock and classic rock. It was so much easier to avoid his problems than deal with them. 

“Hey Friday, turn down the music, I need to talk to you.” He said while he was pacing and not working on anything at all. 

“Of course. What do you want to talk about?” The AI replied cheerfully. She seemed a lot happier since Tony returned. 

“I think it’s time to change your primary user back to Tony. He’s alive again so the ‘EDITH’ protocol should be reset. That also means to give back the trust and all that. I can’t rely on my inheritance anyway…” He rambled. 

“I’m sorry Peter but I cannot do that. Boss locked the ‘Old Man’ protocol for his retirement. He wants to keep ‘EDITH’ in place.” 

“I mean he’s not dead so why would he keep it?” 

“It’s getting a little late kid,” Tony spoke from behind Peter. He turned to the man and shrugged. 

“Not a kid. I’m old enough to drink but it doesn’t even do anything so that sucks.” 

“Believe me, that’s a good thing. You don’t even get hangovers?” 

“No, I can’t even get high dude. Weed is useless.” He sighed. Tony laughed. 

“You should seriously go to bed though it’s been a pretty long day.” 

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Peter pouted. 

“Poor baby.” Tony practically dragged Peter out of the workshop, it had been a pretty long day. 

“I’m a little too tall to be a baby.” Peter yawned. 

“You’re always going to be my baby,” Tony said surprisingly fondly. 

“I’m taller than you.” 

“Not emotionally,” Tony noted.  Peter snorted in response as they wandered to his bedroom. In the five years of living there, it had barely changed. There were still three Star Wars posters on the wall and the desk was still a mess. The only thing that really changed was the comforter on the queen-sized bed. It had a little flying Iron Man pattern on it and little arc reactors. It used to be a solid scarlet. 

“I love you, you know that right? I didn’t get to tell you before and I never want the opportunity to slip away ever again. You’ve been like a dad to me and I could never ask for anyone better. Shit, don’t tell Ben that…” Peter embraced Tony before he left for the night. Tony’s hand instinctually combed comfortingly through his kid’s hair. 

“I love you too kid. It’s been rough for you lately but it’s okay now. You saved the universe, not many people can say that.”

“I know right, what are the perks of that? Do I get free food a McDonald’s or something? I mean Jesus got several holidays for saving mankind in some indefinable way, will my birthday become like a day off of school or something?” Peter joked as he stepped back. 

“Now that’s an idea… who do you contact for making a holiday…” 

“Okay no, don’t do that. Don’t you dare.” Peter said in a serious tone. 

“Fine, good night Spider-Jesus.” Tony started to head back to his own room with Pepper. 

“I’m not the one that came back from the dead, whatever. Good night Iron Jesus.” He sighed and flopped into bed. He was out like a light in moments. Even if he had a nightmare, he would always wake up to something better than any dream he could conjure. And that was enough.  

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Princess Ahmanet

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Universal really shouldn’t have tried getting on the shared universe bandwagon, huh? The restarted attempt at the Dark Universe was a bomb, but if nothing else, it did give us one thing: the sexy, evil mummy Princess Ahmanet, a villain so cool she deserved a better movie. Of course, as much as I enjoy Ahmanet, and as decent as I think her movie is, I don’t think I truly get Ahmanet… So I decided to call in some help. For this Psycho Analysis, I have enlisted the aid of Ahmanet’s #1 fan and probably the only person on Earth who loves the 2017 attempt of The Mummy: my wife, @lilmissrantsypants!

She did basically all the work aside from this intro and some closing thoughts; the Actor, Motivation/Goals, Personality, and Final Fate sections are all her words, not mine. Of course, I’ll throw my two cents in at the end, but really, wouldn’t you rather hear a character summarized by their biggest fan than by someone who’s just a casual fan?

Actor: Sofia Boutella has been in a few films prior to The Mummy (2017), such as Kingsman: The Secret Service (her breakout role, really) and Star Trek Beyond, but this was her biggest role yet in my opinion. Boutella really enjoyed Ahmanet, which is obvious by her high praise of the character in interviews. She has said Ahmanet is “the definition of a feminist”, which I don’t know if I agree with necessarily since she’s not really doing anything beneficial to women, but I understand what she’s trying to say since previously, the character of the mummy has been played by a man. She also believes this because Ahmanet was denied the chance to be Pharaoh purely because she’s a female (which occurs when her father produces a male heir) and, rather than playing the victim, she takes things into her own hands. She says Ahmanet is “strong, powerful, and opinionated”.

She proved to The Mummy (2017) director Alex Kurtzmann she was perfect for the role through her performance as Gazelle in Kingsman. She showed compassion or anger purely through her eyes, which was a trait he wanted for Ahmanet. She also has the ability to move slowly and powerfully, which is similar to how ancient Egyptian royalty moved, which is something she likely learned as a dancer.

One fun fact I discovered while looking up how she feels about the character (which I knew, but needed a refresher on) is she’s 37. I honestly had no idea. I thought she was my age (28)! She looks so young in this role (and all roles, really). She’s truly a beautiful soul.

Motivation/Goals: Ahmanet’s motivation is set up pretty clearly in the beginning of the movie. She was to become Pharaoh to take her father’s place and was to be praised as a living god as his only heir. But he produced a son who, simply because he was born a male, would become Pharaoh instead. As it is narrated in the movie, “Ahmanet understood that power was not given. It had to be taken.” She makes a deal with Set, who is incorrectly named the Egyptian god of death (come on, really? Everyone knows the Egyptian god of death is Anubis), who basically gives her god powers and brands her with hieroglyphic tattoos from the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. To hold up her end of the bargain, Ahmanet must perform a ritual to bring Set into the body of a mortal. She attempts this after killing her father and her brother (and, honestly, probably her father’s lover/wife, even if that wasn’t shown). Since she was captured and buried alive, she never got to rule as Pharaoh. However, she still had her end of the bargain to hold up, which was mainly her motivation for the movie (as well as her main goal).

Strangely, she chooses Tom Cruise’s character, Nick Morton, as her Setepa-i (or “My Chosen”) and proceeds to mess with his head to get him to give in to her so she can perform the ritual and Set can enter his body. One minor goal she picks up along the way is to kill Jenny purely because Nick has the hots for her and because she keeps preventing the Egyptian queen from achieving her goal.

Personality: You know, I hate to say it, but Ahmanet doesn’t have much of a personality. This is probably because she’s so focused on achieving her goal. I’m sure when she was alive in ancient Egypt, she was a fascinating person, but we’ll never know what she truly is like. In the movie, we see a mix of character traits from her. One, and probably the most prominent, is how regal she is. Ahmanet doesn’t really run in this movie. She always walks with her head held high, even when Nick and Jenny are freaking out and running away. She’s always in control, and she makes this extremely obvious by simply walking everywhere. One of my favorite scenes that really shows her regality happens near the end of the movie. The undead skeletons of the Crusader knights let her into the underground dig site to retrieve the jewel from Set’s dagger. Even when her “people” are just skeletons she’s demanded to come “alive” and serve her, she still walks with purpose. Her head is held high and the expression on her face tells you she is queen and she knows it. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Another character trait is manipulation. This is purely done with Nick since he’s her chosen and she’s trying to sway him to her side. She’s got the ability to break out of any situation, but she still puts on the puppy dog eyes and tries to reason with him or guilt him into helping her. She’s often in his head, both before and after she escapes from her sarcophagus, showing him images where she’s actively seducing him. Probably my favorite part is when she’s bound in Prodigium’s headquarters. She’s fully capable of releasing herself, but as Nick is crossing a walkway to escape, she gives him the most innocent, pleading look you’ll ever see from Ahmanet. She probably would have gotten him to help her if the fire blocking Jenny’s way hadn’t simmered down. As soon as the two continue leaving after Jenny snaps Nick out of his trance, Ahmanet screams in anger and easily breaks herself free.

It’s really hard to write about her character since, like I said, she doesn’t have much of one, so these two character traits really are the most I can say about her. I suppose you could also say she’s selfish and narcissistic since she’s really not thinking of anyone but herself through the whole movie (even to the point where she rationalizes killing her newborn brother by saying, “They were different times”)..

Final Fate: I wonder what would have happened had Set managed to completely take over Nick’s mind and body, but that’s not what happened in The Mummy (2017) canon. If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know Ahmanet achieved her goal (even if she wasn’t the one who actually did it). Nick battles with Set for control over his mind and ends up winning (thanks to Jenny mainly since he sees her dead body and remembers her telling him he’s a good man). He easily defeats Ahmanet since now he’s got all of Set’s powers and sucks the life from her just like she did every single person she killed (but slower so we can see her decompose). She ends up being buried in her sarcophagus again where she will, unfortunately, stay since Dark Universe has basically died yet again. RIP Ahmanet.

Best Scene: My wife shockingly didn’t pick these next two things out, so let me just say I’ve always liked the opening that details her origins, as well as the scene where she apes Imhotep and makes the giant cloud of debris; that shot was in a lot of the trailers, and her strutting with her arms outstretched really goes to show how she’s a villain who deserved way better than she got.

Best Quote: Basically any time she breathily utters “Setepa-i,” which Boutella makes uncomfortably hot. Frankly I’m not sure how Tom Cruise managed to resist that. Oh wait, that’s right! Tom Cruise is an idiot and terrible with women.

Final Thoughts & Score: While I’m doing the overall final thoughts, here is what my wife had to say:

“As hard as it was, I wrote this as fairly as I could without any personal bias. I absolutely love Ahmanet and I would have loved to see more of her in the movie, but Tom Cruise warped things around so he got all of the screen time and Sofia Boutella got hardly any. If I was giving the score, she’d have gotten a 8.5/10 (even though I want to give her a 10/10, not really having a personality really takes away from a perfect score).”

Generally speaking, I do agree. Ahmanet is a fascinating character on paper, and Sofia Boutella really manages to sell her with her performance, but she unfortunately has the misfortune of having to share the film with the egotistical manlet known as Tom Cruise. Cruise really did twist things around in this film so he could get more screentime, because as we all know, Tom Cruise is starved for starring roles in big budget movies and definitely needed the exposure compared to a woman who is best known for playing side characters. I mean, she’s only playing the title character, let’s cut out tons of stuff that could have expanded on her so we can see Tom Cruise run!

I’m very salty about it. I think there were good ideas for a film in here, particularly her being a female monster, which as of this writing is a bit of a novelty; aside from the Bride of Frankenstein, there aren’t really many notable female Universal monsters, or classical sort of horror monsters in general. If anyone else had been in Cruise’s role, I think Ahmanet could have been fully realized as there wouldn’t be a money-grubbing Scientologist jerking the director around. Sadly, as written, she is a bit half baked and underutilized despite being the titular monster, though thankfully Sofia Boutella is able to salvage what works and make Ahament at least moderately entertaining. I’d say she deserves a 7/10. I can’t stress enough that Boutella really carries the character even when there isn’t much there, but I can’t really justify much higher because her screen time is so limited and, like my wife says, she lacks a clear personality.

I’d never say this movie is as good as the Brendan Fraser Mummy movies, but I think it deserved a lot better, especially considering Boutella’s character being so much more engaging than the heroes. At the very least, she got a solid showing in the video game adaptation of the movie, The Mummy Demastered, which is a Metroidvania made by Shantae creator WayForward.  At the end of the day, Ahmanet is just an underutilized and underwritten villain carried by an actress giving it her all, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, she could have been so much better.

[kagehinataboke]

if you’re still taking kiss prompts can you do todobaku a kiss out of spite or envy with jealous bakugou? Ur writing is amazing btw thank u for blessing us with quality tdbk food 🙏🙏🙏

aww thank you dear uwu, i’m more than happy to provide y’all with that good fucking food 💯👏🏻

we have todobaku: a kiss… [46/47] out of envy/jealousy and spite

hope you enjoy it hon c: i put a lot into this one just for you hungry tdbk fans (^.-)~

*

Bakugou doesn’t usually like to spend weekends at U.A., but his parents are out of town this month and he’s being forced to remain in the dorms. That would be completely fine—if fucking shitty Deku and Icy Hot weren’t there, too. Todoroki apparently stays every weekend, which isn’t surprising given his fuckface of a dad. But Deku is staying to keep him company, and it pisses Bakugou off an unusual amount.

He’s sitting in the commons trying to stretch, and those two dunbfucks keep making noise from the kitchen. Whatever the fuck they’re doing, every giggle from Deku sets Bakugou further over the edge. Why did that nerd have to stick around? If it was just the two of them, he could—

Bakugou stiffens and cuts off the thought, nearly popping his knee out of place when he straightens it too quickly. Shit. Could what? What would he want to do if they were alone?

Fuck, what the hell is this gross feeling? He’s not jealous… He could never be jealous of Deku. But if that’s really the case, why is his chest so tight? His forehead twitches every time he hears another crash from the kitchen—and maybe that’s because he wants to be the one out there. How can Deku talk to Todoroki so effortlessly, he stews over. How does he do it?

There’s one more (especially loud) crash, and Bakugou grits his teeth. That’s it: he can’t put up with this shit anymore. Midoriya has a damn house and an awesome family and can get the fuck out.

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” Bakugou yells, storming into the kitchen on the warpath. The metaphor is fitting, because it looks like a flour bomb has gone off: it’s fucking everywhere, floor to ceiling, and even in Todoroki’s hair. The two morons both look up like wild animals caught digging through garbage, Deku holding a flattened flour bag in one hand.

“We… we were just trying to get the flour,” he supplies quietly, flinching when Bakugou snatches the crumpled bag and throws it in the garbage. “Um… Sorry, Kacchan…”

“Shut the fuck up and go home already,” Bakugou orders, retrieving a broom. “I’m going to clean this up.”

“You can’t just kick me out—“

Bakugou silences him with a glare. “Now, Deku.”

Deku gives in surprisingly quickly, murmuring a muted apology to Todoroki before leaving the kitchen, trailing flour across the floor. Bakugou starts sweeping, but it’ll take years to clean everything up. The flour has seeped into every crevice in the entire kitchen. How the fuck did they even do this?

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki says after a moment of loaded silence, lingering behind him. “I’ll help you.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou grumbles. He tries to step past him to get the dustpan, but Todoroki grabs him by the wrist and presses his back against the counter. “Get off me, dammit. The flour—“

“What’s wrong with you?” Todoroki interrupts, staring so intently at him that it’s unnerving. “What was that about?”

It’s hard to think when he’s being cornered, so Bakugou reverses their positions to make himself feel better. “As if you don’t know, fucking up the kitchen and making so much noise and being so casual with—“ He cuts himself off in the nick of time, releasing Todoroki’s wrist to grab the dustpan from behind him with a click of the tongue. “Whatever. Just back off.”

The fight isn’t over: Todoroki grabs him again, the dustpan clattering to the floor. Bakugou tussles with him before losing his balance on the slippery floor. They both go down, sending a mushroom cloud of flour into the air.

“Get off me!” Bakugou growls, trying to push Todoroki’s weight off his chest. He won’t budge an inch.

“I won’t move until you talk to me,” he insists, expression annoyingly earnest. “You had no reason to treat Midoriya like that, and—“

Bakugou growls in frustration and roughly throws him off, sending up another cloud of four. He pins Todoroki in the midst of the white mess, coughing it out of his lungs. “Don’t. You really want me to fucking say it? I don’t like that shitty nerd hanging around.”

“I don’t understand.” Todoroki blows floury hair out of his face, holding onto Bakugou’s wrists where he’s grabbing him. “Are you—“

“Stop.” Bakugou is forced to release one of Todoroki’s arms in order to cover his mouth. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything else from you—“ Todoroki licks his hand and Bakugou shrieks, yanking it away quickly. “Ew, what the fuck—“

“Got you.” Todoroki hits his elbow, knocking him off balance and once again reversing their positions. The back-and-forth is growing old. “I can’t read your mind, Bakugou. Tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles, stubbornly averting his eyes. “Fuck, there’s fucking flour everywhere. Move.”

“Talk,” Todoroki demands. “I won’t move until you—“

Bakugou knees him in the chest mid-sentence, scrambling across the floor to get away. Recovering quickly, Todoroki grabs his ankle and drags him backward. He yelps when Bakugou kicks off his hand, but he uses his quirk to make the floor icy, slipping him when he tries to get up. “Really? Are you fucking crazy?! Let go!”

“You never talk to me, so why are you acting jealous?” The words shock Bakugou into stillness, and Todoroki seizes the chance to pin him down again. “What, do you like Midoriya?”

“That shitty bastard? I’ll fucking kill you.” Bakugou closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at him, struggling to hold back the explosion of feelings he wants to let out. He’s held them back for too long to give in now. “Why can’t you mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?”

Todoroki ignores him again. “If you don’t like Midoriya, that logically means it’s me. You like—“

“Shut up!” The bomb goes off, and Bakugou surges up to wrestle Todoroki to the ground. They’ve almost cleared the flour away with how many times they’ve disturbed it. Unfortunately, Bakugou can’t stop the flow of words pouring out of his mouth. “So I fucking like you, is that what I should say? Seeing you with Deku pisses me off. Seeing you with others pisses me off. I like you but I can’t even talk to you. Is that what you want to hear, huh?!”

Todoroki stares at him in startled silence, but Bakugou’s blood is still boiling with spite and frustration. His grip on Todoroki’s wrists tightens, trying to talk himself out of it even as he kisses him. He tastes like flour, and Bakugou feels like he has to sneeze because of it, but it’s impossible to stop. Anger and jealousy and hate and so many other things are mixing in his chest and exploding across his tongue—and then Todoroki’s.

Fuck. No, this is bad. He’s been holding back his feelings for so long, and all it takes is one loaded look to break him. He can’t let his emotions boil over so easily…

Bakugou forces himself to pull away, leaving Todoroki gasping and both of them coughing out lungfuls of flour. “Fuck,” he says under his breath, wiping a mix of saliva and flour from his lips. “Shit. Pretend… pretend that didn’t happen.” He feels his heart stop when he notices the blush creeping up Todoroki’s neck. “It didn’t happen! Shit.”

“Are you kidding?” Todoroki’s face splits into a smile that absolutely kills Bakugou’s rationality. He’s never seen it before, and fuck, if it isn’t breathtaking. “You should get jealous more often. That was… whoa.”

“We just assaulted each other in a kitchen, we’re fucking covered in flour,” Bakugou mutters, “and you choose the words ‘that was whoa’?” He can’t help but snort. “You’re not as cool as everyone thinks.”

“But you like me.” Todoroki’s stupid smile makes Bakugou want to die. Why is he revealing it now, of all times? How unfair. “You like me.“

“Obviously: I wouldn’t kiss someone I didn’t like, you dipshit.” Bakugou sighs and collapses, admitting defeat. His feelings are being accepted: he isn’t being pushed away. Todoroki is holding onto his arms and smiling and it’s making his head spin. What kind of sappy rom-com shit is this—and why does he like it so damn much?

“Yeah, okay,” Bakugou murmurs eventually, pushing himself up to lock eyes with Todoroki again. It feels liberating to finally be able to say what he’s been holding back for so long. “I like you. I really like you.”

[darklingichor]

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell Ramble Fest Part 5. *Spoilers*

Day 5: finished it. Okay, lots of things. Rowell's writing is absolutely addictive, I would have finished it faster if it weren't for my job and bills and stuff. Stupid responsiblites keeping me from reading.

I think I'll take each plot thread and follow it to the end.

With Levi, I sort of expected him to be Reagan’s brother, possibly twin (just by the way she reacted to the identical twin thing). Anyway, what college class allows you to read and test on The Outsiders? Can I borrow anyone’s time machine and go take it? I literally (and I actually mean literally) read that book twenty times in a row when I was fifteen. I wrung every bit of context, subtext, and not-even-in-the-text out of it. I felt like I knew Johnny and Ponyboy better than I knew some of my own family members. My best friend and I also took turns reading it out loud to each other (we did this with a lot of books, actually). I could have taken that test in about five minutes and would have been the easiest A I ever got!

Anyway, can I just say that I love the fact that Cath sees audio books as reading? Some people don’t and it annoys me to no end.

So I do like the Cath/Levi pairing, but what is it about romance in fiction? One half of the pairing doesn’t answer texts so the other half makes out with someone else? Does this happen in real life? I’m aro ace, this is completely foreign to me. I mean, I understand the concept of demiromantic and demisexual. Someone you feel connected with makes you want to do the romance or  physical thing with them. But then you wouldn’t just kiss someone else because you didn’t hear from the special someone for a couple of hours, right? How does that connection happen in the brain? Not judging just wondering about something that makes no sense to me, personally.

It was sort of interesting how the relationship progressed. I get why she was so reluctant to really go there. Cath is the embodiment of fool me once, you will not get a twice.

I like that Levi really is a nice guy. Not a guy who plays nice and then expects something because of it. He legitimately felt horrible for the kiss with the other girl.

Also often, in the stuff I watched growing up, the love interest had to "look past" the geeky stuff that the main character liked. It is cool that Levi likes Cath for everything that she is, including the stuff that Wren tries to downplay. Same goes for Cath liking Levi. Niether one of them change to make themselves "better" for the other. That seems more real to me.

I like the slight struggle they had with Reagan being Levi's ex and how they all moved passed it. The only thing I can't figure out of I like is how once the relationship solidified, Cath's anxiety seems to have, if not disappeared, then greatly reduced.

I can't figure out if that's because she had more in the way of support in the form of Wren, Levi, and Reagan, more confidence because of the reactions she got to both forms of her writting, less stress because her dad had more support from her grandmother, and all of the other things that came together for her... Or the "Got boy now, what is mental illness?" Trope.

I would say it's the former because it would make sense, but we spend so much time in Cath's head and see her struggle and overcome, in the little daily battles that are always there even with changes made in the form of healthy coping mechinisms, medication or counseling. And suddenly it just drops away... I don't know, that bugged me.

Speaking of struggles

Arthur’s episode was handled really well, and I’m completely on Cath’s side. Family comes first. I don’t care if they are uncouncious, I wouldn’t be able to consentrate on a final if a close family member were in the hospital and I wasn’t there.

The part of my brain ruled by the anxiety goblin completely agrees with Cath wanting to leave the school. The part of me that is closer related to the turtle than it should be. “This is scary, uncomfortable, painful, ect. Time to hide.”

The more reasonable part sort of agrees with her when she said she didn’t choose the school, Wren did. Why stay at a school that you didn’t want to attend in the first place? I also understand the logic behind wanting to stay home to take care of her dad. Is ot the eighteen year old kid's job to take care of the parent? Not really, but what do you do when someone you love needs help?

The more rational part also says: You have a scholarship? Stay put, kid, loans blow!

During this whole thing? Wren is still a dick. The You and dad are crazy because you let yourselves be crazy argument...

"Got a broken leg? Walk it of wussy!"

Now, is that to say that Cath's way of letting her anxiety cope with her rather than the other way around is right?

No.

But it's a lot more complicated than "Just don't let it bother you." Bitch, if she could do that she wouldn't have anxiety now would she?

I don't know a lot about bipolar but I know enough to say with confidence, that just willing the chemicals in your brain to behave is not going to cut it.

So Wren's alcohol poisoning. Can I say that I loved how it was handled? The writing got around every tired thing that can happen coming out 0f a plot element like that.

Wren and Cath did reconcile, but Cath didn't cut her a lot of slack and was matter of fact about how stupid Wren's behavior had been. Her dad didn't do the whole "I'm just glad you're okay" thing, he laid down the law. One of my favorite lines from Arthur was when he told Wren that she had to go to AA meetings.

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Good. It's not contagious. You're going to meetings.”

I honestly wouldn't mind a story from Wren's perective over the course of this year. It would be interesting to see her partying, her relationship with her boyfriend and her thought process while she let some of her personality blaze through while hiding others.

After she and Cath make up it becomes clear that she thought that she couldn't go to parties, make new friends, have new experiences and be close with her sister and still openly love nerdy things.

Professor Piper, writing, Laura, and Simon Snow.

I get the feeling that Professor Piper is suppose to be subverting the Mary Sue stereotype. When Cath first starts the class she is in awe of this teacher. Piper is wise, talented and compassionate. She's perfect. So when she first talks down fan ficton, I thought, well if the story were to follow the Mary Sue, Cath would "realize" her folly and abandon Carry On, Simon. I knew that wasn't going to happen.

The more she bad mouths fan fiction, the more she just... Acts like nothing touches her, I thought: She's the Mary Sue... But she's almost the villain (and almost is important here because she doesn't continue down that path). I mean, she can do whatever she wants with her students' grades? What university is this? Professors have to get their grades submitted by a deadline. She couldn't hold Cath's grade just cause she felt like it. She'd have to submit an incomplete and I'm pretty sure that it would have to be made up long before it actually was.

She calls fan fic "Stillborn" as if the only ultimate reason to write is to make a living off of it, that was bitchy. She likely would have been surprised that a good number of her students probably dabble in it, because I haven't met many people who write (post Harry Potter) who didn't read some fanfic, if not write it, and that's just one fandom Yes, it is a wonderful thing to make your living doing something you love,  However, Cath is also right, you can write like some people knit or scrapbook. You can do something you love simply for the love of it.

Further more and most importantly, no writting is "stillborn" you put effort into it, it lives, if only for you.

Now, Cath is trying to not write her final project because she's scared, she's afraid that she doesn't have it in her to do with her own characters what she does so well with Baz and Simon. That doean't mean her reasoning isn't sound, it's just not sound for her.

Nick... I don't have a lot to say about Nick. I knew he was going to end up being a tool, and he was.

Same goes for the Laura thing. I agree with Cath, you don't get to walk out of being a parent and walk back in to be a fair weather friend.

Simon Snow. As a framing device first the "original" books and then Carry On, Simon was very effective. I had a hard time listening to many of them though because of the narration. Don't know why they had the narrator switch when we were in Cath's story.

Having read Carry On before Fangirl, it was interesting to see the differences between the stories. And it simaltiously gave and took away hope for the Anyway the Wind Blows.

That fantastic part where Wren tells Cath that she can't kill off Baz, that she'd always said that Baz deserved a happy ending because of everything canon and all the fics they'd written and read, had put him through.

I thought: That bodes well for Baz in the next one.

But Wren also says that Cath has to give him a happy ending because Gemma T. Leslie never will.

Then I thought: Well shit, that doesn't, does it?

And all of this means nothing, really. Carry On and Wayward Son exist outside both this book and the fictional series...

Gah! This universe is like a Russian nesting doll crossed with a rublix cube!

The little bits we get of Cath's final project were lovely, and yes, painful. Writing something personal is painful but, but cathartic a lot of the time.

I had a lot of emotions reading this book and while I like Carry On more, I think Fangirl is fantasic. Just from the two books I've read, Rainbow Rowell's speciality is to take expectations and expertly either defy them or bring them to fuition in a way that is more satisfying than what the reader might be expecting. This means I might break from my escapist reading trend a bit more often.

[wckdmazes]

I Survived - A Newt One-Shot

                                            I Survived.

Hey guys, just a quick Author’s Note to let you know that there are some trigger warnings in this fic. These triggers include: Accidental self-harm, depression, and a suicide attempt.

                 Like the other boys, I don’t remember anything of my life before The Glade. I’ve tried many times, mostly at night when the dark thoughts set in and kept me from sleep. I imagine a life without walls, without a lift that births a new boy every month. The Glade is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but despite its beauty, I still felt trapped. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

               My name is Newt. That’s not my birth name though, at least, I don’t think it is. I’m in a beautiful Glade surrounded by miles and miles of stone walls that twist into a new labyrinth every night. We, that is the other boys and I, have begun to call it The Maze and it’s my job as a Runner to run through the twists and turns every day and try to find a way out. I’ve been running The Maze, every day, all day for a few months now. At first, I went in with hope. Maybe we could find a way out and find our families, figure out how we got here, or just…anything. Anything but the monotony of life here.

               It’s nearly time for the doors to close like they do every night and I’ve just finished documenting today’s run. I set my notes aside for the other Runners and George, our leader, to look over later and headed towards the small eating area we’d built. I could smell the food the Frypan, our cook, was just finishing up.

               “That smells wonderful, Fry.” I noted, offering the other boy a warm smile as I took my portion. I sat down with my bowl and began to dig into the meaty stew. It tasted wonderful and stilled the ache of hunger in my belly, which I was mostly grateful for. I glanced up when my friend Alby sat down across from me with his own portion of stew.

               “How was The Maze?” Alby asked before shoveling a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

               “I found a new path, but it was a dead end. Looks like you had a rough day in the Gardens.” I said with a small chuckle as I pointed out the dirt smudged across Alby’s dark face. “You have dirt by your ears, mate.” Alby snorted softly and grinned at me.

               “Yeah, the trellis the Greenie built fell today. I was only just able to save the tomatoes. Most of the grapes were lost, but I have a few plants that I think I can save.” He replied. Alby was typically a Slicer, but right now the Garden’s needed the most help, so he split his days between the two jobs. “George told the Greenie he has to make the trellis work or he’ll be a Slopper.”

               I cast a glance down the table at the newest boy to The Glade. We call all the new boys Greenie until they either proved themselves or a new boy comes up. This particular Greenie had been here for about two weeks and wasn’t really great at any jobs except being a Builder. His name is Gally and he’s both the tallest and the most cross of all of us. I could see him fuming from where I sat, likely because of the fallen trellis. He was pouring over a sheet of paper and frowning, likely trying to figure out how to make the trellis not fall.

               “I’m sure he’ll get it sorted.” I said turning back to Alby and finishing my stew. The night progressed as it usually did, with the other boys joking and unwinding around the fire. I joined in for a little while, until I felt the sinking feeling I always got when the night began to settle down. I bid the other boys good night and headed into The Homestead, where we all slept. I crawled into my hammock and tried to will myself to have pleasant dreams.

               It was silent and dark when I woke up with silent tears streaking my cheeks and sweat soaking my clothes. For just a moment, I remembered something about my past. I remembered my sister.

               “Lizzy.” I breathed out into the still Homestead as new tears sprung to my eyes. The rest of my dream faded away, leaving me with a racing heart and an overwhelming sense of despair. I slipped from my bunk and the Homestead and out into the cool morning. The sun hadn’t even begun to think about rising, but the birds in the trees chirped happily about the coming dawn. I wiped my face and took a deep breath, trying to clear the despair from my soul to no avail.

               “You’re up early.” A voice chirped behind me. I turned to see Minho heading towards me with his usual chipper demeanor.

               “Couldn’t sleep.” I lied.

               “Again?” He asked sympathetically.

               “S’alright.” I replied with a shrug as we walked towards the Map Room to get our running gear.

               “You sure you can run today, Newt?” Minho asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking at me with concern.

It was common for me to go days without sleeping lately. I would try, of course, but it was like my mind just wouldn’t shut off. I kept having intrusive thoughts about how we wouldn’t ever leave this place and how I would die here and never find my real family, never find out who I really am. Those nights, I would spend my time in the Gardens with the plants until I had to go run The Maze. One or two days didn’t have a marked effect on my energy levels anymore, but more than that and I lost both speed and clarity. It had almost gotten me trapped in The Maze more than once and after the second time, George had pulled me aside and made me explain. I had tried my best to convey just how bad my thoughts were effecting my sleep and George had seemed to understand, if only a little. He’d made me promise to tell him if I was too tired to run and so far, I’d been a man of my word and only been made to stay back a few times to rest.

“It’s just one night. I’m fine. I swear.” I told Minho while giving him a look that I hoped read as confident.

“You better be, Shuckhead.” He sighed as he released my shoulder and pushed open the door to the Map Room.

We grabbed our gear and confirmed the routes each of us would be running today before jogging across The Glade and towards the doors that would soon open into The Maze. As we stood waiting on the doors, I took a moment to look back at The Glade as the sun just began to crest over the top of the massive walls that separated us from the labyrinth and the dangers that lurked beyond. This was my favorite time of day; the sunrise. The Glade would go from the midnight blue-black of darkness, to a faint grey-blue, and then, as the sun peeked over the walls, The Glade would be washed in pinks and yellows and reds. It would become alive with the birds and the other boys, who would be just waking up. This moment, each morning, was my one happy thing in an otherwise increasingly sad and grey world.

I turned my attention to Minho as the doors opened with a groan of metal and stone and we nodded to each other as we began to jog into The Maze.

“See ya later, Shank.” Minho said to me before we parted ways and began to run the stone paths of our prison.

 The combination of the harsh sun and the heat that the stone held made the day long and taxing. I ran the twists and turns, making notes on anything that had changed, though not much had. The lack of changes left plenty of time for my mind to wander as I ran. The intrusive thoughts were quick to make themselves known and with each step I took, I thought about how pointless this was.

I’m absolutely mad to think we were ever going to get out of here.

I’m never going to be free.

I’ll never see my family again.

I’ll never see Little Lizzy.

No one even cares that I’m here.

They haven’t even come looking for me.

They’ve forgotten me.

They didn’t care about me.

I must not have been good enough.

Running this maze is pointless.

I’m going to die in this maze.

No one would even care if I…

I shook my head roughly and stopped running. I had to stop thinking like this. I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths before checking my watch and realizing that I needed to head back. I decided to count my steps to keep my mind distracted as I turned and began the trek back to The Glade. I lost count four times before giving up as I ran into The Glade just behind Minho.

“Hey, you made it.” He greeted me as I jogged up beside him and we headed towards the Map Room to compare notes and work out routes for tomorrow. I nodded and gave him a small smile, but said nothing.

“You’re a man of many words, Newt.” Minho chided with a grin.

“Sorry, mate. It’s just been a long boring day and I’m a bit tired.” I replied.

We finished up in the Map Room just as Frypan called out that dinner was done. Minho began to jog over and looked over his shoulder at me as I began to head towards the Gardens.

“You coming, Newt?” He asked.

“I’ll catch up. I told Alby I’d look at the damaged plants and see if anything can be done.” I lied for a second time today.

“Well hurry up or you’ll get the gruel.” He shouted as he jogged away.

I wasn’t planning on getting gruel or food of any kind at the moment. Even after running all day, I just simply wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t even eaten my lunch rations, honestly. As I neared the fallen trellis in the Gardens, I observed the new Greenie picking through the smashed plants for all the damaged grapes.

“Fry’s done cooking, Greenie. You can go get some food.” I spoke, which seemed to startle him.

“Oh. Thanks.” He said, looking up at me from the dirt. “I was only taking the smashed ones. I want to try making something to drink other than water. I didn’t think anyone would mind.”

“Better ask George or Nick first, really. Anyway, you should probably figure out how to make this trellis stronger and not be worried about a drink.” I replied. He frowned and his already intense eyebrows furrowed before he stood and left without a word.

I sighed and knelt down in the dirt to try and salvage any plants Alby had possibly missed. There were two that I thought could be saved and I replanted them with the other salvaged plants, hoping they would survive.

Shuck knows something in this place has to survive.

I sure won’t.

I felt the familiar anchor in my heart as my thoughts turned darker with the night. I knew this would be the beginning of another cycle of sleepless nights. Another fight with the darkness inside me that threatened to consume my soul. A darkness that ate every happy thought and feeling and klunked out despair and emptiness in its wake.

I’ll never go beyond these walls.

There’s no point in any of this.

There is no happiness here for me.

I have nothing.

I AM nothing.

I should just…

My mind was brought back to the present as a searing pain emanated from the back of my hand. I looked down and saw a clean slash for a brief moment before it filled with dark blood. My blood. I had slipped and cut my hand open with the trowel I had been using to replant the grapes. I sat back on my heels and stared in morbid fascination as the blood began to well up and spill over the edge of the laceration and run scarlet down my hand until it dripped off my pinky and disappeared into the dirt. It was another longer moment of me staring at my hand before I realized I needed to bandage it. I quickly moved to the water trough and scooped some up in a cup before pouring it over the wound and finally bandaging it with a scrap of cloth I usually kept tied around my wrist. The pain from my hand blurred the thoughts in my head and I realized that it was the first time in a while I’d felt something other than just perpetual numbness. I stared at my now bandaged hand as tears pricked my eyes and the anchor in my heart sunk lower into the abyss.

I can’t feel anything but pain.

No. ALL I feel is pain.

I’m so tired of fighting.

What am I even fighting for? Some bloody grapes?

There’s no shucking point to any of this.

I should just…

I should just…

With great difficulty, I tore my eyes away from my injury and spent the rest of the night digging fervently in the garden to keep myself from finishing that nagging thought. By the time I had to get ready to run The Maze, I was in worse shape than ever before. Everything around me seemed darker and blander despite the night fading and the morning beginning to come to The Glade. I stood wordlessly and numb beside Minho at The Doors and waited for them to open. I turned towards the sunrise, as I did every day, but today it was different. The light spilled over the top of the wall and bled across The Glade, but it seemed duller than usual. Suddenly not even the happiest moment in my life could reach my heart to warm it. I stared as the doors opened behind me and realized that I felt nothing. I registered Minho calling me and turned back towards The Maze with a faux smile on my face, assuring him I was fine before we parted ways. But I wasn’t fine. I was numb. I was empty. I was drowning and everyone around me just stood and watched, ignoring my pleas for help.

No one cares about me.

Why should they?

I’m not worth caring about.

I’m not worth anything.

I’m just taking up space and resources.

I’m not even a good Runner.

I don’t do anything well.

I should just….

“No!” I shouted out loud at my thoughts. “I will not finish that thought. It’s just another bad cycle. I can make it through this.” I spent the day alternating between fighting with my thoughts and marking some new routes I found. But slowly, I was losing the will to fight. Eventually, well before it was time to turn back, I just stopped running and slumped to the ground. A strangled sob tore from my throat and all the pain and emptiness I fought against rushed in and filled me like a cup in an ocean. It was overwhelming and I stayed there on the ground, sobs shaking my whole body, until the sun was high overhead. Habit told me it was time to turn back, but I didn’t care.

There’s no point in going back.

They’re better off without me.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was standing up and fumbling for a foothold in the walls. I found one and began to climb higher and higher until I found a small landing, just big enough for me to stand on. I stared down the wall from my perch and the ground disappeared in a blur as more tears flooded my eyes.

No one cares.

I’m nothing.

I’ll never be free.

I should just…

I should just…

I should just…

“Jump.” I whispered to myself before I stepped off the ledge and plummeted down to the stone below. The strangest thing happened as soon as I stepped off the ledge. Suddenly, I thought of Alby and how devastated he would be at my death. I thought of Lizzy and my parents, whoever they were, and how they might be at least a little torn up that I died. I thought about Minho and how I’d never hear another stupid joke or make him feel better when he got sad at night, I thought of The Glade and how the sun would crest over the walls every morning and how it was simply marvelous to behold. It sounds foolish, but I thought of those bloody grapes and how I would never get to see if the plants were strong enough to survive.

I wasn’t strong enough to survive.

All at once there was a loud thud, accompanied by snapping and blinding pain as I collided with the solid stone floor of the Maze. Then there was nothing.

 I could hear a distant shout and footsteps approach.

This is it.

The footsteps got closer and were accompanied by someone frantically speaking.

I’m dead.

Whoever was speaking knelt beside my head, but I still couldn’t make out their words.

Am I dead?

The person moved towards my legs and jerked up my pant leg.

Oh God, I’m not dead!

My eyes shot open and a scream tore from my chest as my leg exploded in pain anew. Suddenly every sense I had was hyper aware and I could make sense of what was being said.

“Newt, you shuckin’ shank!” Minho shouted at me when I came to.

“Don’t touch it!” I shouted back, pain lacing my words. “Just…don’t touch it.”

“What the hell happened?!” Minho demanded as he moved back towards my face and eased me up to sitting. His eyes scanned my tear stained face, likely noting my red puffy eyes, before looking up the wall until he finally spotted the ledge. His face fell as he pieced it all together and turned his gaze back to me.

“I’m sorry.” I croaked out, feeling guilty for what I’d done.

“Not a shucking chance, Newt.” Minho said before he heaved me up and threw my arm over his shoulder, supporting most of my weight.

“Minho, just leave me.” I groaned. “You’re not fast enough to make it back.”

“No, you’re not fast enough to make it back. I have plenty of time to get both of us back.” He argued before beginning to sprint back towards the exit.

“Minho, I’m sorry.” I wheezed, trying to stay awake through the pain and keep up with my less injured leg. “I’m so sorry, Min. I don’t want to die.”

“I know, man. I know. Just stay awake, we’re almost there.” He said. I could hear the emotion and the worry in his voice. “Just stay awake, Newt.”

I could hear the clamor of the other boys as they saw us making our way towards them. We crossed the threshold just as my leg finally gave out and I sagged heavy against Minho, causing him to stumble. As we fell to the dirt, I was again blinded by the intense pain shooting through my leg, but I managed to hang onto Minho’s shirt long enough to groan one final thing in his ear.

“Please,” I begged through the pain. “Please don’t tell them.”

               “I won’t tell. I promise.” Minho assured me quietly before turning towards Alby, who was demanding answers. I didn’t hear anything else as I finally slipped into a dreamless sleep.

                 It was months later when I could finally leave the Med-Jack hut with the help of a sturdy walking stick that Alby found and Gally carved to smoothness, and a brace that Clint fashioned out of materials that got sent up in the lift. I blinked against the bright light until my eyes adjusted and took a deep breath of fresh air. Everything looked brighter and smelled fresher than I could ever recall it being. I hobbled slowly towards the Gardens to see if I could help at all, but the others had just knocked off for lunch when I arrived. Alby made his way over from the Slicer’s and smiled gently as he closed the distance between us.

               “Newt.” He said as he wrapped me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re out and about. I was worried about you.” He stepped back and looked at me, his eyes searching my face for confirmation of the questions he had. He seemed to confirm his suspicions with a small nod before breaking into his warm and friendly smile again.

               “Come on, I have something to show you.” Alby said before leading me back towards the now stable trellis. Over the months of my recovery, Gally had managed to build a trellis and Alby directed my gaze to two of the plants growing strong and healthy on the wood. I looked from the plants to Alby and back in disbelief for a moment.

               “Are these-?”

               “The grape plants you saved before your accident? Yes. They survived.”

                 They survived.

               I survived.

               A genuine laugh bubbled up from my chest and out of my mouth as I reached my hand out and gently ran my fingers over the grape leaves.

               “Bloody hell.” I breathed in amazement. “Bloody shucking hell.”

[biggy-habes]

So we left off with me and Fennie moving in with Amanda. I was a bit nervous about this, because the last 2 girlfriends that I had lived with ended up crashing and burning. One took all of our shit with her while I was at work one day. Nothing better than coming home from a hard day's work to come home to…Nothing. Jack shit. The other one had pissed on our couches and threatened to cut my dick off in my sleep. I slept with a knife in my hand that night. Good times!

So you can probably understand the hesitance. There were some major lifestyle differences between us. She was high maintenance. I am a bit of a slob. She enjoyed being young and having a good time. I was heavily into the drug-free lifestyle of NA. Also…I was a vegetarian. Not just a vegetarian, but a vegan. And a super annoying self-righteous vegan at that. Now how did I get there? How does one go from downing 50 wings at Hooters during a wrestling Pay Per View to eating cashew cheese and lentils? Well it all started with a cat named George. In 2010 I was living in a shitty one bedroom downstairs unit in a shitty part of Lawton, Oklahoma. Every so often a grey cat would be wandering around the tree outside my door. I never saw a collar on him so I assume he just would just wander around the neighborhood. When I would see him from my window I would bring him cold cuts or what not. One day I looked outside and saw him climbing into the tree, however it looked like he had something stuck to his fur. I went out to see what the issue was and give him a hand. I certainly was not expecting to see what was actually in his fur. As I got closer I saw that it was actually burns and scars. It looked as if someone had poured boiling oil on him. I was horrified! This angered me beyond being able to put into words! I felt like I needed to do something. I needed to file a report or something! So I jumped onto my computer and I immediately started searching for ways to report animal cruelty. This would lead to me reading about animal cruelty in general. And this would lead me to reading about animal cruelty in the meat industry. And THIS…would lead to the videos of animal cruelty in the meat industry. And it was that day that I decided that I could not ethically participate in the anything that would promote the things that I have witnessed that day. So from then on I was all about that Vegan Lyfe, son! That was…until I got to Boston.

For my birthday in May we were able to take a few weeks off together and decided to do a bit of traveling. The plan was to spend a week in Boston, come back to Oklahoma, then drive to New Mexico to attend a wedding. Amanda and I had such an incredible time doing all of the touristy stuff that Boston had to offer. I knew a few friends from High School who moved to the Boston area so I had looked up a buddy and we ended up eating sushi at a low key Japanese bar near Boston Common. I figured a walk around after eating would be a nice end to the evening. Unfortunately my stomach had different plans. Soon after we started walking around the Commons I felt a rumble and a grumble. I turned to Amanda and informed her that we needed to find a restroom. STAT! Now here is the thing with large cities like Boston…they don’t just have a McDonalds or a WalMart that you can run into and use the bathroom. And as we continued walking around looking for ANY PLACE where I can duck in and do some damage the sense of urgency just kept rising. It is getting to the point where I am about to settle for an alley and a newspaper. And then, like a beacon of hope, I notice a familiar green mermaid a few blocks away. I immediately start booking with the gait of Abe Vigoda and reach the doors of the Starbucks in a nick of time. I tell Amanda to pull guard while I handle my business. For discretionary purposes I will not dive into the violent details but a few minutes later Amanda knocked on the door to ask if I was alright. And I was. I really was! That is…until I tried to flush. The toilet was broken. It was Dumb and Dumber, but in real life. And happening to me! By now I am looking like I ran a few laps. I am pale and covered with sweat. Like I said…violent. There is NO WAY I would have an explanation for what just went down. So…I did what any rational man would do. I pretended like nothing was wrong and walked out, all the time hoping that no one is waiting to use the bathroom after me. I don’t know what happened after I left that Starbucks that night, but my heart goes out to that poor employee who got assigned that mess.

The next day we had tickets behind the first base line to watch the Sox play the Twins. It was at this game where I came SO CLOSE to achieving a lifelong dream of catching a ball at Fenway Park. A foul ball came into the stands 2 rows behind me! I immediately scrambled to grab the loose ball when a pair of kids ran towards it. I backed off to let them snag an *official* Sox game ball. Good for that kid, right? WRONG! Because he started acting like the cockiest little prick. Talking about how quick he is and teasing his brother with his "trophy catch". I sat there thinking "Listen, you little shit. If you weren't 4 foot nothing and I would have gone after that ball as if you were a grown ass man. You would have ended up somewhere near the On Deck Circle so sit down and shut your fat ice cream covered face!" Now by this time I had been a hardcore vegan for about nine months. And I had gotten GOOD at it. I learned how to spot animal products hidden in labels. I learned which restaurants had off-the-menu vegan options. But being in Boston was going to be the ultimate test. Right now just thinking about being there and not being able to eat seafood is making me the sads. No scallops. No lobster. No chowdah. At the game I was ok with my bag of peanuts while I watched Amanda scarf down a Fenway Frank. But I have always had a weakness for cheese. Not just a weakness though. It is more like I have a problem with cheese. Not the lactose intolerance problem. It is more of an "I Binge Eat Cheese" kind of problem. If I get a night of the sads I will drown my sorrows in a 1 pound brick of muenster. Not just by the slice like a gentleman. No, I have to tear off chunks with my hands like a friggin savage. I happened to notice a lady an aisle over from us eating a slice of pizza. This was not just an ordinary slice of pizza at a baseball game though. This was perfect. The cheese was still hot and melty. The grease glistened from the stadium lights overhead. In a moment of weakness I just had to have a slice of pizza. I turned to Amanda and said "I think I am going to get a slice of pizza." She looked at me, puzzled, and asked "Are you sure? The cheese isnt…" I stopped her right there. I didn’t need to be reminded. #YOLO. So that was the last night that I was a vegan. I held on to being a vegetarian for a few years after that. We can cover that later. Anyways, back to hanging out in Boston.

We tried cramming as much as possible in the few days that we had there. We did a bit of shopping (for her. Amanda was a big fan! Me…not so much. But hey, whattayagonna do?) I took the time to just wander around looking at all the cool sights, the buidings, the people.

Our last night there we went on this super cool ghost tour around Boston Proper. It is one thing to read about these tales about Lizzie Bordon and the great molasses flood. It was a completely different ballgame when you are actually walking around their gravestones! The next day we headed back to Oklahoma, where we has just one day to rest up and pack what we needed for the wedding before hitting the road for Santa Fe, New Mexico.

I did not really know who was getting married. The bride had been a friend of Amanda for a while. Now I know that I am usually cooler than a polar bear's toenails but this was going to be the first time that I would be meeting all of Amanda's closest friends and I was fucking nervous! This was a time where I was very uncomfortable in my own skin and my anxiety was through the roof. The wedding was absolutely stunning! It was held in an adobe brick church that you could not help but marvel at when you walk inside. As the bride walked down the aisle she had a glow to her that caught my attention. It was here that I first imagined Amanda walking down the aisle in a wedding gown. After the wedding we had some time to kill before the reception. We got changed and I put on my game face. I was in recovery at the time and Amanda and her friends still enjoyed partying so I immediately felt out of place. There was also a fair amount of guilt from the feeling that I was preventing her from having a good time. These days when I am in uncomfortable social situations I will usually just start rambling until the conversation gets awkward. However, back then I would just shut down and be the large, weird, reclusive guy. And that is how the wedding reception was. It was just a lot of sipping my coffee and smiling creepily. Thankfully we did not stay long at the reception. I feel like she knew how out of place I felt but was trying my best to power through. Due to the fact that we drove up we were able to bring Fennie along for this leg of the trip so he was a valid excuse for us to leave early.

We took a cab back to the hotel and spent the rest of the night watching TV with the pup. We spent the next day wandering around the city with a few of Amanda's friends. I felt much more comfortable in this setting as I can become charming as fuck in small group situations. Jon Haber is King of the Dinner Table. I spent most of the afternoon getting to know some of her closest friends and let them get to know me a little better now that I was more in my element. There was also something about New Mexico that made me feel at east. The Land of Enchantment has a breathtaking backdrop of mountains and mesas. The architecture of Santa Fe maintains the Pueblo culture and feel.

Amanda had recently started selling jewelry (Translation: She entered a pyramid scheme) and enjoyed looking at the street vendor shops selling various turquoise trinkets. I enjoyed the laid back pace and fresh air. And the food. The food was fucking INCREDIBLE! We went to bed early so that we could head back to Oklahoma the next morning. And that was the end to yet another memorable birthday week. Despite constantly being on-the-go I felt refreshed and grounded. As it turns out I was a hit with Amanda's friends. This was relieving, as the impression that I left on them was constantly in the back of my mind. Overanalyzing the perception that I leave on others has been the one regrettable trait that I have carried in me my entire life.

We returned to Oklahoma and had a week of rest before we hit the road again. This time our destination would be to visit Amanda's mother outside of Vegas. I have never set foot in Las Vegas and was excited to see the bright lights and strange folk that I have heard so much about. For someone who often requires visual stimulation this was perfect!

I am not much of a gambler so I mostly entertained myself by watching the surroundings. It reminded me of something out of one of those In-The-Near-Future sci fi movies. Strangers crowded in the streets wearing any clothing that you could possibly imagine. Celebrity impersonators would have you making constant double takes. Tom Cruise, Pee Wee Herman, Liberace, and of course the stereotypical Vegas strip Elvis. As we were preparing to make our way back to the car the sky lit up like Broadway and an easily recognizable George Thorogood riff blares from all around. Next thing you know Lonesome George is on overhead screens everywhere playing a killer 15 minute set as I sat with my mouth wide open in awe! Being sober I could not take in the FULL Vegas Strip experience but for my first time I was it was thrilling nonetheless.

The next day we went strolling through some of the (free) attractions around Vegas. We had dropped some major coin the past few weeks and were on a tight budget. Amanda's mother lived right outside of Vegas so we had a place to stay. This was the first time meeting her mother. She reminded me a lot of my own. She had a very boisterous laugh and had a light, fun personality. She immediately fell in love with Fennie and was ecstatic to have us staying with her for a couple of days. While we were there I also met Amanda's brother and his family. So if you have been keeping track, in the course of 3 weeks I met the close friends, the mother, the brother, the sister-in-law, and the nephew. This was a pretty significant advancement in our relationship. We had to leave the next morning for Oklahoma so we opted for a nice relaxing day walking around the strip and watching the college kids having their foam parties and beer funnels. It was a great trip and I really enjoyed meeting Amanda's family. I knew that we would be back soon.

And that is where I think we will end this chapter. Join me next time as we wrap up 2011.

And perhaps a big proposal.

[theguardianangel-fanfiction]

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

Summary: It’s been two years since the beginning, and only five days since Clementine met them. But somehow, things got so much worse, and Carver was just the beginning. [Season 2 AU/canon divergent. New situations, characters, etc.] Chapter 12: FUBAR. Author’s Note: I will be posting 1 chapter a day on Tumblr. Each chapter is already posted on AO3 and Fanfiction. I will resume posting on those 2 websites on October 1st, 2017. [Main Blog] [AO3] [FanFiction.Net]

Clementine’s gaze jumped to every single body that was laid out in front of them. Some were on their backs and some of them were on their stomachs; one was sitting up, propped up against a large rock. But there was one thing they had in common: fresh blood covered the faces and heads of every single one of them. None of them were walkers.

Pete took a step forward towards the closest corpse, a male on his back. He knelt down to examine the body, then poked it twice with the barrel of his rifle. He stood back up to his full height with a noise that sounded something like a cross between a sigh and a groan.

“Full o’ holes.” Pete told Clementine and Nick.

Clementine couldn’t take her eyes away from the bloody corpses, but managed to choke out, “… Who do you think did this?” Nick, on the other hand, stayed silent.

“Not sure yet.” Pete replied over his shoulder. “… But it ain’t your average group of thugs – that much, I know.”

A miniscule shake of his head was the only thing that clued both of them in that Nick could even move. His eyebrows knitted together as he grimaced and said quietly, “Think about it.” His eyes widened. “You’re Carver. What do you do?”

Carver. There was that name again, and Clementine had had enough of the mystery.

“Who’s Carver?” she finally managed to say, glancing to Nick.

Nick and Pete shared a look, though neither answered her. Instead, Pete simply looked away and told Nick, “Check those guys there.” He nodded to several of the corpses behind him. Nick began to walk over, clutching his rifle like a lifeline. “Be careful. Some of ‘em might still be moving.”

Annoyance and a small amount of fear filled Clementine. Pete trusted her – and Nick seemed to as well – but they still wouldn’t tell her who Carver was. And now she knew that they seemed sure that he was behind the massacre remnants they had just stumbled upon.

Pete and Nick both set off in opposite directions – Nick towards the tree line, and Pete towards the river. Clementine looked both ways and decided immediately that she trusted Pete’s sense of direction and safety a lot more than she trusted Nick’s.

She carefully approached Pete, who knelt down to examine the body of a dark skinned man. “What can I do?” Clementine asked quietly, staring at the corpse’s bloody face. Had it not been for the blood, the man may have looked like he was sleeping or unconscious.

“See if you can find anything else.” Pete murmured, looking away from the corpse.

“… Like what?”

“Somethin’ that might tell us who did this.” he responded, glancing around at their surroundings.

Clementine turned away, lightly stepping towards a body about two feet away from Pete. This one was also male, lying on his side; dried, brown and red blood was caked around two bullet holes in the back of his head. His hands were positioned on his right side, both splattered with blood.

“This one’s shot too.”

“Through the head?”

“Yeah.”

“Check the rest,” Pete replied as Clementine stood up to her full height. “And look for ammo. We’re runnin’ low.” He looked down at the body he was examining, also standing up, and grimaced.

Clementine moved to turn towards Nick – something caught her eye: there were more bodies on the other side of the small river, and up against the bank.

Nick joined them both, looking alarmed. Pete didn’t look back at him and Clementine immediately.

“This wasn’t no rinky-dinky pissin’ match.” he said, just barely loud enough for them to hear.

“What was it, then?” Nick demanded, an alarmed expression crossing his face.

Pete still didn’t face either of them as he said something that to Clementine, sounded like, “Fubar.” and continued on closer to the river.

“Where you goin’?” Nick demanded again. Clementine looked up at him, alarmed. He seemed just as angry as he seemed scared. “We need to get the fuck outta here!”

Pete gazed back briefly, but then looked back to the river. “We gotta check the rest.”

“What? WHY?”

Pete took a step into the shallow river and began to make his way across. He provided no explanation and instead hollered, “Calm down and think about it, son!”

“Calm down? We gotta get outta here now!”

Pete had reached the other side of the riverbank by now. “Jesus Christ – get a hold of yourself!” he shouted, annoyance obvious in his voice.

Clementine turned to Nick, though a large amount of dread filled her system. “What if someone’s alive, Nick?” She didn’t know what they would do, but the possibility made her worry.

“Who cares?” was Nick’s immediate response. Clementine knew this was all fear talking, and nothing rational was coming out of him.

“’cause they might just be inclined to tell us who did this!” Pete shouted over to him. He placed his hands on his hips and glared at his nephew, still annoyed. “We gotta do this now.”

There were several rocks that provided a completely dry passage across the water. Carefully, Clementine held out her arms to balance and jumped from one to another until she had reached Pete’s side. She wanted absolutely no part in a repeat of the other night; her ribs ached just thinking about it.

“Stay here,” Pete finally said to Nick. “Keep searchin’ the ones on your side.”

Anxiety was practically radiating off of Nick at this point. He clutched his rifle again, this time not showing an inclination that he would be letting go anytime soon, and backed away apprehensively.

“… This is a dumb idea!” he called back.

“You know, Nick,” Pete suddenly called in response, “I don’t like this either, but sooner or later, you’re gonna have to realize a simple truth.”

“What?” Nick snarled. “That you’re an asshole?”

“That nobody in this world is ever gonna give a goddamn whether you like somethin’ or not!” Nick’s facial expression changed to one of a petulant child. “You gotta grow up, son!”

Nick turned on his heel and his only response was, “Whatever.” as he did. He stomped away like a child throwing a tantrum. Clementine scowled; she felt annoyed on her own, but she knew Pete had to feel much worse about that.

He turned around and said, “All right, Clementine. You wanna be useful? Keep an eye on that tree line.” Pete scowled in the direction of the trees. “Whoever did this might still be out there, waitin’ for another sucker to stumble across this mess.”

“Okay, I’ll watch it.” Clementine immediately agreed, not wanting to make him any angrier than he probably already was. She began to turn to the tree line when Pete spoke again.

“You always so agreeable?” He seemed genuinely amused to Clementine’s surprise.

“No.”

“Good. You’ll fit right in with this outfit.”

Clementine turned on her heel, heart jolting, as sudden growling reached her ears. She had expected a group, but instead was only met by a wriggling walker that was trapped between two large rocks against the bank – and it was pinned to the ground by what looked to be a homemade spear.

Pete joined her gaze as he let out a sigh and set off towards the walker.

“Look, just keep your head on straight.” he said, and gazed down at the walker. “Same deal. Shot to pieces. Hope this isn’t anyone you know…”

“No…”

“Good.”

Pulling a face of disgust, Clementine eyed the walker warily as it struggled weakly against the spear. She eyed the weapon as well, a nagging sensation of déjà vu pulling at her mind. Pete pushed his foot against the walker’s chest, ripped out the spear, and immediately drove it into the walker’s forehead.

It wasn’t until the walker ceased movement and Pete tossed down the spear that the memory hit her like a pile of bricks.

The man she had pushed into the jaws of a ravenous walker carried one just like it before he had taken off after her. She remembered exactly what he’d done with it before – how could she forget? Christa’s anguished shriek when he forced it into her foreleg still echoed in the back of Clementine’s mind.

Pete looked over his shoulder, then huffed.

“Damn it. More on that side – you check out these ones.” Obeying his command, Clementine turned to face the other bodies that lay littered around them. Her stomach turned. “See if there’s anything that can tell us who they were.”

Apprehensively, Clementine locked her gaze on one of the bodies. It lay the furthest away from the others around them, and faced away from her. It was on its side, right on the bank of the stream.

When she saw what was lying next to it, she wanted to yell. Her eyes widened when she saw the bag lying only a few inches away, next to a log. Bright purple and child sized, there was no mistaking it; it was her bag.

A plastic water bottle stuck out.

The body moved. It squirmed and its hand reached out towards the water bottle – and Clementine knew that it wasn’t a coincidence. The “body” wasn’t just a random walker. It was one of the two other men who had chased Christa at the same time that that – Clementine tried to put the image of her former captor’s corpse out of her mind – man had chased her.

By now, her knees felt like lead and her heart thumped against her chest so hard that she could hear it. Clementine inched her way towards the bag. She didn’t even reach for it before the man suddenly let out a hacking cough and his eyes snapped open.

The man’s clothes were splattered with blood; several spots were darker than others in a way that Clementine automatically knew that they had to be puncture or bullet wounds. His shallow breathing evened out for only a moment, only to be interrupted by more hacking and coughing. He stared up at Clementine, eyes going as wide as they could. He looked from her to her backpack, and then in a random direction.

“You were in the woods with Christa.” Clementine managed to force out quietly. She recognized him; he’d been the only one with long hair – some kind of dreadlocks – versus her own short haired captor, and the third man with the hood.

The man’s eyelids fluttered as he gasped out, “Please.” He again looked to the water bottle as his weak arm reached for it. Clementine didn’t move towards the bag. Her hands shook too much and the rest of her was frozen. He had to know what they’d done with Christa.

But Clementine’s only feeling was one of dread. What were the odds…?

“… The woman I was with…” she stammered to the man. “What happened to her?”

“Please.”

“Tell me what happened to her.”

The man’s eyelids drooped slowly, but Clementine wasn’t focused on that. She felt as though someone was squeezing her too hard. Suspense built up inside as the man opened his mouth to say something again.

Instead, all that reached her ears was Pete’s shouting, followed by a gunshot.