#i do find it insane that it asks you to set a streak goal and you cant opt out lmao?

[bumbelbee]

opened duolingo to grab some screenshots for a class and was immediately bombarded with gamification elements

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 7

AO3

Prev

Marinette Dupain Cheng didn’t have a normal life. On the contrary, some would call her life Miraculous. Well, one would. And she would whack him every time. As much as she loved her brother (in all but blood) Adrien, she couldn’t stand his puns most of the time. After he first lost his arm a year ago at the final battle against Hawkmoth, she let him get away with a lot of puns and awful jokes. Because she blamed herself for his injury. She should’ve been able to fix him. But she wasn’t. She still blamed herself some days, but she no longer laughed at every single one of his puns. He knew she hated them, and it was better for her mental health to let him know how awful they were. She’s stirred from her thoughts by Adrien nudging her, obviously trying to get her attention.

“Where are we going for our spring break trip? You helped Mme. Bustier plan that, right?” Adrien asks. She frowns, not sure what brought that topic up.

“We’re going to spend a week in New York and then a week in London. Why?” She asks, confused at his worried expression.

“Okay well, maybe you should tell Mme. Bustier that. Because she just said that we’re spending two weeks in New Jersey.” Adrien says with a grimace.

“WHAT!?” She yells, jumping out of her seat.

“Marinette! I was trying to go over the details of the trip. I’m very disappointed in you. You know better than to interrupt like that.” Mme. Bustier says, shaking her head with a small frown. Marinette’s face turns red and she drops back into her seat, muttering an apology.

“What do you mean we’re going to New Jersey? What’s even in New Jersey?” She asks Adrien in a hushed whisper, conscious of the glares from Lila at the front of the room but determined to ignore them any way she can.

“Gotham, apparently. And the Wayne family. According to Lila, she can get us in for a tour at Wayne Enterprises and Gotham Academy and every other thing the Waynes do. Because she’s dating Damian Wayne, didn’t you know?” Adrien explains, lip quirking in amusement. Marinette groans, dropping her head onto their table.

“Do you realize now I’m going to have to arrange at least part of that? Or we won’t have anything to do and we’ll be stuck in some random city for two whole weeks.” Marinette says, a headache already forming.

“Or, or, hear me out. You could just let her fail. And the trip will flop and everyone will see that she’s awful.” Adrien says. It was a much different response than what he would’ve had a year ago. But the defeat of Hawkmoth and the revelation that his father was a supervillain was enough to alter Adrien’s world view. He wasn’t hopelessly optimistic anymore. He was more cynical. He was still insanely kind, but he didn’t give out his kindness to people who didn’t deserve it. Like the lying bitch in their class.

“I don’t wanna be stuck in a hotel with her for two weeks.” Marinette points out with a grimace. “Wait a minute, why does Gotham sound familiar?”

“Probably from when you were friends with Alya. Batman and his whole team is from Gotham.” He says, slumping down in his seat so that he can continue to whisper to her.

“Oh goody. Crime capital of the US and Lila decides to lie her way into the city. But it wasn’t enough for just her to be targeted. Oh no, she had to get our entire class involved. Yippee.” Marinette snarks, shoving her face back into her folded arms on the desk. It was too much for this early. Time for a nap.

---

After submitting a five thousand word essay on how beneficial a tour of Wayne Enterprises would be and an additional three thousand word essay to Gotham Academy on the benefits of having an exchange class for a week, Marinette was pleased to say that their trip to Gotham wouldn’t be completely boring.

In fact, it would be similar enough to what Lila had lied that hopefully, she wouldn’t be blamed for messing anything up. Sure, they wouldn’t have personal tours from the Wayne family or an invitation to the Spring Gala that the Waynes were hosting, but at least they’d have something to do in Crime City. Hopefully with the amount of security at both Gotham Academy and WE, they wouldn’t run into too many villains. After three years under Hawkmoth, she never wanted to deal with a villain again. Unless she could punch him or her in the face. Then yeah, she’d happily meet a villain. But seeing as it’s highly frowned upon to piss off a Gotham villain like that, she’d prefer to just not see one at all. Would certainly make things easier.

Marinette huffs, glaring at the mess of clothes falling out of her suitcase. She’d started packing two days ago, and then yesterday discovered that she packed the outfit she wanted to wear on the plane. So then she had to take everything out, but then she couldn’t find the outfit and after throwing everything around she found the outfit. Still in her dresser. And now she had a huge mess falling out of her suitcase and not enough time left to pack neatly. Not if she wanted to get any sleep.

“Hey Adrien, can you give me a hand?” She asks, beginning to fold the mess of clothes back up. He’s silent for a minute, and then she hears a click. She sighs and looks up just in time to catch the arm he threw at her.

“There you go!” He says cheekily, a wide grin on his face as he hangs upside down from her bed. She narrows her eyes.

“You know what I meant, you absolute menace.” She deadpans. He snorts before dropping down, landing gracefully and catching the arm she throws back at him.

“You know you love me, Bug.” He says, helping her fold her clothes.

“Unfortunately.” She says with a dramatic sigh. “You hear from Jay yet this week?”

“Yeah. Told me, and I quote ‘stop annoying Pixie Pop with your lameass jokes kid. I can’t protect you from her fury from across the ocean’.” He says with a laugh.

“At least he knows I’d best you in a fight.” She says with a hum. Adrien sputters, an offended look on his face as he slams her last shirt into her suitcase.

“That is not what that meant!” He argues with a pout.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kitty.” She says, zipping the suitcase shut and trying hard to ignore the bad feeling settling deep into her stomach. Something was going to happen in Gotham, and she wasn’t sure if it would be good or bad.

---

Of course the class would leave them on their first full day in Gotham. It made sense. They’d hated Mari before Hawkmoth’s reveal. And after Hawkmoth’s reveal, they were hesitant around Adrien. Even with the whole ‘my dad cut off my arm’ thing. So honestly, leaving the two of them stranded at the hotel was just par for the course.

“At least we’re together.” Marinette says bitterly, thinking of the fact that the class would be getting to tour Wayne Enterprises. A place that she had worked hard to allow them to tour.

“Come on Mari, look on the bright side.” Adrien says, grabbing her hand and tugging her along.

“What bright side? We were left behind, in Gotham, of all places. What could possibly be good about this situation?” She asks, slightly dragging her feet as he tugged her along behind him.

“Mmmm, the fact that Wayne Enterprises is only a block away.” He says with a grin. She straightens immediately, actually keeping up with his pace now instead of allowing herself to be dragged behind him.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” She asks, shaking her head in faux disappointment. He shrugs.

“I like a little chaos.” He says. Marinette opens her mouth to snark back at him, but is instead silenced by the building in front of her. Wayne Enterprises was slightly intimidating, but she was still amazed by its design. It was modern and sleek and her hand twitched towards the sketchbook in her purse. She could just imagine skirts with the same sleek shapes and dark colors, suits whose build was used to make the wearer look taller. Just as she’s about to pull out her sketchbook, she sees a familiar head of hair walking into the building. Dark hair with a white streak. But-

“Was that Jason?” She asks, suddenly far more interested in the man who just walked in. Adrien’s gaze snaps to where hers is, frowning at the closed door.

“I don’t know, but let’s go see.” He says, and this time, she’s the one tugging him. Their class completely forgotten. Until they walk through the doors and hear the incessant chatter and noise that comes with being around Lila Rossi. But not enough that is enough to deter the two from their goal. Especially when the man they’d followed turns around, a familiar face set into a scowl.

“Jay!” Marinette calls, waving at him. The man’s scowl instantly drops into a wide smile and he rushes past the class, sweeping the two up into a huge hug.

“Pixie! Kid! What are you two doing here?” He asks, holding them close.

“Jay-Jay, can’t breathe.” Mari says, letting out a puff of air as he sets them down gently.

“Hey Jay!” Adrien says, a wide smile on his face, one of the most sincere smiles Mari had seen in a while. She felt her own face fall into an easy smile. After a year apart, they were together again.

“Uh. Jason? Job, remember?” A voice asks, pulling the three out of their reunion. Jason looks at the man and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Dick, thanks. I’d completely forgotten why I came all the way here.” He snarks, no venom in his tone.

“Did you just-” Marinette starts to ask, uncertain if he was calling the man a name or?

“Shit, I forget that even though you speak it just fine, English isn’t your first language. His name is Richard, but ‘Dick’ is a nickname for Richard. It’s what he usually goes by.” Jason explains, snorting at the look on her face. She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Well excuse me, Mr. To be fair, you calling someone that wouldn’t be out of the question. You have shitty language a lot of the time.” She teases with a smirk.

“That’s it. You’re disowned. I no longer claim you as my little sister.” He says, turning around dramatically and walking away. Marinette’s jaw drops at him. She looks at Adrien who just smirks, and then at Dick who just looks confused with the entire situation.

“What the hell was that? I thought I was the dramatic one.” She pouts.

“Looks like you’ve lost your touch Bug.” Adrien says, crossing his arms. Her eyes narrow.

“Is that a challenge?” She asks. He shrugs.

“Do with it what you will. Just don’t get him in trouble, I think he actually works here.” He says, glancing around the packed lobby. Marinette looks around and sighs. She didn’t want to make a scene with the class, and she definitely didn’t want Jason to get in trouble.

“I’ll get him later.” She mumbles, falling into place on Adrien’s right side naturally. The two walk in sync to the rest of the class, oblivious to the bewildered look given to them by Dick Grayson.

Next

Master list

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat

[raleighcarrera]

best of me

ride or die | logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

a picture of logan and ellie in their thirties for @rodappreciationweek and the time capsule challenge 🌼

tags: @choicesarehard ; @lovehugsandcandy ; @pixeljazzy ; @troublemakerinspace ; @zigtheeortega ; @jaxmatsuo

~2.3k words | T

“mr. wheeler!” 

logan looked around the parking lot, squinting into the sun. one of his students was running at him full speed, holding his cell phone aloft and waving it around excitedly. “what’s up, alex?”

alex drew to a stop in front of him breathlessly. “i got in,” he said, lips splitting into a big grin. “cal tech, i got in.”

“hey, that’s awesome!” logan said, reaching out to clap the student on the shoulder. “congrats, alex. that’s a huge accomplishment.”

“dude, thank you so much for your recommendation,” alex said, nodding enthusiastically. “you’re honestly the best teacher i’ve ever had.”

“give yourself some credit,” he smiled, “you worked hard, and cal tech is lucky to have you. just don’t forget to come back and visit, yeah?”

“for sure,” alex agreed. with one last grin, he was gone, and logan finished getting his things in the car so he could head home, the rest of the students and faculty in the parking lot of mar vista high well used to the roar his devore’s engine made by now, after three years of teaching.

ellie’s car was already in the driveway when he arrived back at the house, and logan frowned when he parked on the street and jogged up the walk to their front door. it was early for her to be home; usually his day ended well before hers. as he walked inside, he wondered absently if the fact that she’d had an early afternoon meant she’d started dinner, and if he was possibly lucky enough that she was making that noodle thing he liked so much.

“ellie?” his keys landed in the bowl by the door with a familiar clink, his shoes kicked off one by one on the mat. “babe?”

“in here!” the stressed-out voice of his wife filtered in from the spare room. as soon as logan took a step towards the hallway, there was a sudden and aggressive rapid tap-tap-tap on the hardwood floor, and their dog ran at him at full speed, jumping up onto his legs with an excited bark.

“hey, clark,” he said gently, bending down to scratch the dog behind his floppy ears, “everything okay in there?”

the pointed silence that followed seemed to speak for itself. he followed the hallway down to the spare bedroom and found ellie sitting on the floor, surrounded by ripped-open cardboard boxes and indistinguishable small plastic pieces.

before logan could ask what she was doing, she frowned up at him and said, “i’ve been trying to put this baby carrier together for three hours.”

he arched his eyebrows at her, looking over the small mess she’d created in the middle of the room. “you’ve been here for three hours?”

ellie pulled a face at him, her lips twisted into a grimace. “morning sickness that lasts all day again,” she explained, scrunching up her nose. “jack caught me coming out of the bathroom and sent me home after lunch.”

“oh, no,” logan said sympathetically, dropping down onto his knees on the one free space of carpet. “i was hoping that’d’ve gone away by now.”

“you and me both,” ellie sighed, puckering her lips at him for a quick kiss. “i guess it was too much to hope for a baby without a rebellious streak a mile wide.”

“i’m still holding out for your dimples,” he grinned, “and that laugh. as long as the baby gets both of those, they’ll be set for life.”

“the baby is five minutes away from sleeping on the floor. i’m about to trash all of this and go take a nap.” the downtrodden expression on ellie’s face tugged at his heart in a way her cute little sighs always seemed to manage to. logan was already smiling when she squinted up at him hopefully and asked, “will you help me try to put it together?”

as if there was ever a chance he’d say no. “’course,” logan answered, “two heads are better than one, right? although you are an engineer...”

“believe me, graco is going to be hearing from me,” ellie grumbled, rolling gingerly to the side to shuffle awkwardly out of the way of the pile of pieces she’d already started putting together. she was just a few months along but already starting to show and moving about differently for it, unaccustomed to her new shape. “there is no reason these instructions should be more complicated than my master’s thesis.”

logan laughed, leaning over to take a peek at the paper spread out between her legs. “hey, they’re not so bad.” he easily snapped two pieces into place, forming the base of the carrier. “there we go.”

“show off.” ellie rolled her eyes, pushing another piece his way with a disdainful sniff. “i’m still calling them to complain.”

“and you totally should,” he said easily, “because they suck and you’re brilliant.”

“exactly,” she agreed. without looking up he could tell that her eyes were narrowed, her lip curling further with every piece he added onto the carrier, the methodic click of each settling into place ringing out loudly in the silent room. finally, ellie groaned, “god, i hate you. i knew this would be so easy for you.”

“okay, but that’s what i’m here for,” he reminded her with another soft smile, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze her knee. ellie huffed when he continued to turn a plastic screw one-handed. “to handle all this shit for you so you can relax. i know you have the hardest job, here.”

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” ellie’s sigh sounded wistful. when logan lifted his gaze he found her staring at him adoringly, her eyes wet. “i love you.”

“i love you too, baby. any idea what you want for dinner?” he looked away to concentrate on lining two tiny pieces up, frowning when they wouldn’t stick quite right. “come here for a sec, yeah? need some tiny fingers.”

ellie shot him a look, but leaned over anyway, wiggling her hand in the tight space he indicated until the two pieces sealed together with a pop. “maybe i don’t need a refund on my degree after all.”

“they should’ve paid you to take it,” logan agreed indulgently, nudging his shoulder gently against hers. “dinner?” he prompted again.

his wife groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the carpet. her arms and legs spread out like she was making a snow angel, disturbing the bubble wrap and cardboard that littered the room. “i want sushi,” ellie said sadly, “and a wine spritzer.”

“what about apple cider?” he asked gently, eyes still on the baby carrier even as one hand felt blindly for her calf and dug its thumb into her muscle for a massage. “it’s almost the same thing.”

“it’s not even close,” she sighed. ���but fine. thank you.”

“you got it. why don’t i finish up in here, and you see what we have in the kitchen? it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“rub it in,” ellie muttered, rolling slowly to sit up. “okay. i feel like i should do something nice for you. maybe i can make that noodle thing you like.”

logan beamed at her, leaning in to steal a kiss. “that’s sweet of you, babe. thank you.”

ellie laughed, kissing him back before she asked, “why do i feel like this was all an elaborate set up to get me to make your favorite dinner?”

“because you’re a naturally suspicious person?” he guessed, lifting his hand to smooth her hair back off her face. “i don’t know.”

“i think it’s because you’re too charming for your own damn good.” but ellie was smiling when he pulled away, and that was all that mattered. it was the only goal he ever had. 

“no such thing,” logan smiled back, gently nudging her away. “i’m right behind you.”

“yeah, yeah,” she said, waving dismissively, “show off.”

he watched her walk away, staring until she disappeared around the corner, and then turned back to the mass of plastic and screws that was slowly starting to resemble an actual baby carrier. squinting down at the instructions, it was only a matter of minutes before he had the rest of it assembled, and then a few more while he backtracked, checking over his work to find where he’d missed the one remaining piece that had been left over.

he took the time to clean up in what was eventually going to be their nursery, eyes sweeping over the boxes and gifts that cluttered their spare room. there was a ways to go before they were anything even close to ready for the baby, and he knew ellie’s due date would be here in the blink of an eye.

would he ever really feel ready? it seemed insane, when he sat and thought about it -- he and ellie were going to be parents. more than home or dog owners or two people with jobs and bills, it seemed like a responsibility he felt no where near prepared for or equipped to deal with. sometimes he still felt like a stupid kid himself.

though he had absolutely no doubts about ellie. ellie took to every kid she met like a natural -- his students adored her, riya’s twins thought she was the greatest thing in the world and were still only lukewarm where he was concerned. the kids in the program they volunteered with couldn’t get enough of her.

she kept their house running and all their plants alive. she kept him so happy he was delirious with it, in a way that had felt utterly foreign at first but now seemed so common. 

enviously, he knew she’d be mother of the year without even having to try.

the rest of the room was tidied on autopilot as logan remained lost in his thoughts, and when he finally made his way into the kitchen it was, to his delight, to the tune of ellie in the middle of making his favorite dinner, the room smelling as amazing as the sight of her rushing around so domestically looked.

his heart gave a weak lurch as he stepped up behind her at the counter and wound his arms around her waist. his nose pressed into the dip at her shoulder with a sigh. “all done. next stop... crib.”

“don’t remind me,” ellie groaned, “my dad has been on my ass for weeks.”

logan winced. if there was one thing he knew about detective wheeler, it was that he was just as opinionated as his beautiful daughter. “maybe he could come with us to pick it out.”

“maybe he could mind his own business,” she suggested instead, stirring the boiling pot of pasta on the stove. “he acts like he knows everything there is to know about babies.”

“well,” logan said, nosing at the hair at the nape of her neck, “he did raise the most amazing person in the entire world. maybe we should give him some credit.”

“okay, kiss ass,” ellie laughed, “he can’t hear you. but fine. if you really want, we’ll all go next weekend.”

he shrugged. it was personally something he felt indifferent towards, but a few extra points with ellie’s dad never hurt. most of the time he was pretty certain detective wheeler still wanted him dead. “i think that’d be nice.”

“i bet you do,” she murmured, twisting around to hold the spoon she was holding out. “taste.”

he did, chewing and swallowing slowly. “it’s done,” logan said sadly, knowing the words meant he’d have to move away. ellie laughed as he pulled his arms back and went to set the table instead.

he headed to the fridge for the bottle of sparkling cider, making a show of popping the cork like champagne and pouring ellie a generous amount into the giant wine glass she hadn’t been able to use in awhile. she rolled her eyes at him as she put the serving bowl on the table. “it’s not the same.”

“it’s pretty close,” he argued, lifting his own glass up and swirling it like he’d seen many pretentious people at restaurants that made him uncomfortable do. “it’s a beautiful vintage,” he declared, as though he had any idea what that was supposed to mean, “with notes of... apples.”

gratifyingly, ellie dissolved into giggles, shaking her head. “i can’t stand you,” she said fondly, all smiles. he grinned back at her, lifting his glass to his lips. 

“to the baby,” ellie said suddenly, lifting her glass, too, and bumping it into his.

“to you,” logan corrected her, clinking his glass into hers a second time.

ellie narrowed her eyes at him. “to you.” their glasses knocked again.

“nuh uh,” he countered childishly, “you’re the baby’s mom.”

“you’re the baby’s dad,” she laughed, bouncing up on her toes to try to get at his glass even as he lifted it above his head and twisted out of her way.

“this is ridiculous,” logan grinned, “just let me toast you, oh my god.”

“no, it was my toast,” she said, jumping up and splashing apple cider out of her glass and onto the floor, “stop trying to hijack it!”

“okay, okay.” he held his hand out to concede, backing away to drop into his seat at the table. ellie followed suit, smirking triumphantly at him. she still loved to win. “to all of us, jeez. me and you and the baby.”

“to all of us,” ellie repeated, and this time, their glasses touched gently, the sound barely audible over the giggles that were building up in her throat again.

he flashed her a goofy grin before he tipped his head back and drained all his cider in one go. 

sure, it might’ve been nice to have had something stronger, but --

“mmm,” ellie sighed, smacking her lips as she set her glass down, “you were right. this is so much better.”

[constantlyunlightening]

Crybaby

Day 14: Phone Sex w/ Rumi Usagiyama

Warnings/Other kinks: Masturbation

She turned me into a crybaby. I don't know what else to tell ya'll. This woman can R U I N me.

Disclaimer: 18+ years old to read. All characters are aged 20+

"I can't do it when you're not here." You were a puling mess as you writhed against the pillows and sheets that surrounded you, your hand tucked in between your thighs as you fondled yourself. Your own fingers were just okay but you were craving a different touch - a different person. And the person you longed for gave a dissatisfied scoff that played on the speaker of your phone - propped up at the edge of the bed with the camera directly pointed at you.

"You're not allowed to give up already. You can do more than that. I've made you do more than that." Her voice was crystal clear through the speaker, loud and proud as always and it made you keen. Rumi's voice was always something you adored but words could not do your feelings justice to how badly you wanted her to be speaking directly next to you- to feel her breath warm across your skin. "Now, open your legs again. I'm going to start getting mad if you try hiding from me anymore."

The threat was enough to remind you to spread your legs open for the camera, letting your free hand fall from fondling your chest to gripping your thigh and making sure you stayed on display. And since Rumi had refused to show her picture yet, your phone screen projected the clear image of your soaked cunt stuffed with three of your fingers as you tried to get yourself off like she instructed you too. She wanted to see you orgasm. demanded to see you fall apart on screen. You wished it was as simple as she made it seem. 

Make yourself cum for me.

The words had been so straightforward. The command rolled off her tongue as if it we're the easiest thing in the world. Maybe she thought it was. Rumi could make you come undone in almost an instant. In person, she had the ability to turn you into a mess with some naughty words and some even naughtier touches. Your body was fine tuned to everything Rumi was. She had trained you in the bedroom - had you accustomed to her touch, her voice, her body, her strap. No one did it like the bunny hero - you had been utterly ruined for anyone else. No one else would be able to set you a blaze like she did. How could you ever be satisfied with someone else going down on you when Rumi could pin you down and tongue fuck you into oblivion? Her fiesty mouth would work double time on your body when she lapped you up and out. How could you ever want to go down on somebody else? Not when Rumi's thighs crushed you closer- made you drown in her sweet cunt as she urged you on with a mix of sharp taunts and coos of praises. Why would you ever want someone else putting anything inside you when only Rumi could jackhammer you into another plane of existence? Who else could possibly measure up to the woman who brought you to tears every single time? Sex with Rumi always ended with sweat, stained sheets and a pleasure that ran so rampant within you that you were left absolutely dumbstruck - a beautiful disaster. There wasn't a soul alive that could compare. No, your body was hers - an instrument only she knew how to play. Everyone else simply reduced to a novice musician in comparison to the virtuoso Rumi was. 

So how in the hell was she thinking your climax would appear when it was somebody else in that musician's chair? Even if it was your own hand.

You had known from the beginning it wasn't going to work and you could feel that whine rising up from the back of your throat but Rumi convinced you to do it anyway - convinced you to shove your fingers deep into that soaked pussy of yours and let her watch. But you were so pent up - each thrust, each curve you pumped into yourself only built you up - it never brought you to that apex you were trying to achieve. It was all mountain climbing with no summit insight. 

"I c-can't." Your voice matched your body - trembling. Your pent up frustrations were going to be the death of you. Rumi's voice was a magical, wonderful tool but it wasn't quite enough to make you cum. And she wouldn't even let you see her. She had declared only good girls got to see and you hadn't managed to finish her last direction yet. Cum. You wanted too. You really, really wanted to. Tears had started to streak down your cheeks. You needed relief. "Rumi, I caaaan't. Please lemme see you." A whining baby. Petulance would have been oozing off of you at not being able to see her if you weren't so consumed by your greed to feel some sort of ease to the ache. 

Your inability to orgasm led to more pressure coiling up inside you, but without that extra snap of needed ecstacy, it was beginning to hurt. Your puffy lips were red from the constant friction that you felt had been going on far too long. You'd try to play with your clit some more but that had gotten too oversensitive, much too fast. You needed her here with you to get that final rush though. Maybe if you could see her. Maybe if you could watch the ways her gaze eat you up, watched her tongue hungrily drag across her lips as she fucked you with her eyes. Maybe you'd be able to let go then. But as it stood now, all you could do was cry and beg for more to the phone situated in front of you. Continue finger fucking yourself through the ache and hope that pleasure would once again be more prominent in your touches. 

"Don't talk like that, baby." You couldn't tell if she was trying to soothe you or mock you, honey dripping from her overly sweet coos. "You can do it. You will." Her tone darkened and you felt a shiver run through you. "If you really don't think you can do it, I'll hang up right now. Is that what you want?" 

The thought of being left neglected, aching and without her made you sob louder than the ache between your legs. You were quick to shake your head, trying to keep your legs propped open. "N-no!"

"Didn't think so. Then you're going to tough it out and do what I told you too." Her voice was a bullet in your gun but you still needed something to pull the trigger. "You're going to either cum on that pretty hand of yours or you're going to break yourself trying. You're going to do that for me. Cry all you want. Those tears on your face are so cute." Another tremble as you adjusted the pace of your fingering - trying to find a tempo within her cadence. You longed for more but you'd take the scraps she'd give you. Every word, every line. You had to find some way to get to the end goal and you knew she was your best chance at rapture. You bit down on the insides of your cheek, trying to muffle your own sniffles and cries, wanting to hang on each syllable that projected from the speaker. "Crying isn't going to be cute enough to get you off the hook though."

"Help me," you pleaded at her pause, trying to shift up to a more seated position so you could toss puppy eyes at the lens - eyes glassed with tears. You were sniffling between pants, desperate to hear something more. "Talk me through it. Pleaseee. Wanna hear you m-more. Please, please, please."

There was another pause that left you whimpering. She hadn't hung up, had she? The thought of being left hanging like this had you strangled on your own wail. Had you asked too much? No, she wouldn't leave you without telling you. Rumi wouldn't do that! But why was she so quiet-

A dark chuckle broke through your panic and you felt a wet gush on your fingers with the lust the sound shot through you. "Awww, you're that desperate? How could I say no when you ask like that? Fine. But you better fucking do it then." A rabbit, but her growl was all predator.  "Curl your fingers more. Start fucking yourself like you mean it, crybaby." 

Oh, you were going to listen. Despite the ache in between your legs, your fingers immediately flexed inside you, pumping inwards and up as you pushed past the stinging, trying to find that line where the pleasure outweighed the pain. "There you go. Faster, now," she urged, finding that mocking coo once more. "Were you too busy crying for me you forgot how a woman's body works? Forgot how to touch yourself? You want me so bad that it made you dumb? Cute. My pretty little girl really does need me to cum, huh?" She was teasing, but it was enough to drive you insane. "Let go of your leg and put your hand on your lower stomach, just like that. Good girl. Better keep your legs wide open too. Now push your palm down. Hard." Each step you obliged and and as your hand squeezed down on your stomach, you felt the pressure on your inner walls, squeezed between your fingers and your palm and a rough thrust of your hands finally had that dizzying swell of ecstacy begin to shoot through you. Rumi must have been able to tell because the moan she gave out was euphoric and it sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Was she touching herself too? You couldn't know for sure but the thought had your movements faster - each thrust delivered with a jerk and an eagerness to please the bunny hero on the line. 

"That looked like it felt good, didn't it? Hell yeah it did. You found a good spot. Keep hitting it and don't you dare stop - don't you dare fucking stop," she urged and the sudden heavy breaths lacing her tone made your back arch. "Youre going to give me everything you got. You hear me? Show me fucking everything."

Pain be damned, now you couldn't feel anything but euphoric, blistering heat riding through you as you blasted your fingers into that sweet spot Build, build, build and finally you wailed as it became to much to bare.

"Go ahead. Cum." 

 You couldn't cum without her, but suddenly her voice was more than enough and the heat shattered, eclipsing your whole body as you cried out for Rumi.

You had ended up on the bed, a puddle in the sheets and it took you a bit to lift your head and check the screen when you heard her pretty voice floating in the room in between her velvet laugher. "There it is. That's a good girl."

Even with a blurred vision, you still felt your heart leap as Rumi's picture was finally - finally - on screen and beaming at you. Your brain froze as she stuck up a peace sign with her fingers, only to boldly lick something sticky off of them and you were ready to start crying again with how badly you wished you could be the one licking it off her fingers. "My good little cry baby."

[roxa-sos]

princess - jj maybank

jj maybank x kook!reader

tw; verbal and physical abuse. bad dads >:(. sexual assault. drugs. rafe cameron lmao.

request; “Hey can you do a request where jj works for y/n’s kook family and one day he eves drops on how her dad is forcing her to date rafe for business. All rafe wants is sex and drugs and y/n doesn’t want any part of it. But her father yells and almost hits her. On her way out of the house to ask rafe to date she sees jj moving the lawn. They both kinda have a thing for eachother, they flirt. Jj asks what’s wrong and she vents about rafe and her uptight life. He invites her to join the pogues“

a/n -- this is my first non-anon lengthy request so i’m pouring my heart and soul into this :’) also this hits kind of close to home bc i have a shitty dad, so i’m basing y/n’s shitty kook dad off of my own shitty rich dad... enjoy :)

“morning, daddy.” you saw your dad standing next to the dining room table as you looked through the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. such a bougie lifestyle, yet you never really fit in. 

that morning, you’d woken up to the noise of the kid that always mowed your lawn. god, he was loud, but he was good company when you shouted at him from your second story window. he was one of those kids your dad told you to stay away from. lowlives, whatever he felt like calling them. you could still hear the hum of the motor through the open windows as your dad started talking. 

“good morning, baby.” he greeted you with about as much emotion as you gave him, setting his phone down on the table. “you know the camerons. yacht club friends, ward and i go for cigars and golf every few weekends?” your dad spoke about them as if they were rather obscure, but ward cameron owned the outer banks, so obviously you’d know the family whether you knew them personally or not. 

you knew sarah cameron through school anyways. she was the kook queen. actually, you were both like kook royalty. your dad was loaded, her dad was loaded, therefore you had to get along with the camerons no matter what you wanted.

“yeah.” you didn’t feel like your dad deserved too much of an answer from you. you didn’t know where this was going, anyways. it always seemed like he wanted something from you, like that since you were his kid, you owed him something. 

“and rafe, rafe cameron’s a good kid. nice and proper. he’s growing into good money. honest guy. your age.” 

your dad even sounded slimy. 

everything he said was wrong. rafe cameron was... chaos. rich, unchecked, powerful chaos. rafe cameron was mean and reckless.

but the change in your dad’s tone caught your attention. it made you turn to fully face him, abandoning the cereal that sat in the dumb plastic container that sat on the counter. 

he wanted something from you. your dad was always convincing people - selling an idea to them before he’d even made an offer. that was the kind of guy he was. he was disgusting. and he was already asking you to do disgusting things.

“sure.” you didn’t feel like arguing with him either, though you could tell he was getting fed up with your improper responses. “do you want something from me?” you asked, leaning your hand on the counter. you and your dad had been on a good streak lately, no matter what you thought of him. you gave him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was trying to be nice... or something. but you had to be straightforward to get anything from him. 

“alright, let’s get down to it, then,” your dad chuckled, putting up his hands defensively as he crossed the kitchen to stand next to you. he sounded like he was socializing with one of his friends. “it’d be good for... the family, it’d be good if you and rafe got together. dated. good for us, the camerons, good for the outer banks.” he spoke with his hands, making broad gestures. 

he could tell you didn’t like the idea as soon as your expression changed.

“hard pass, sorry daddy.” you laughed like he’d been joking himself. his expression changed to something darker, like he was frustrated.

“sorry, you must’ve misinterpreted me or something, y/n. you’re smarter than that. i’m not proposing this, i’m telling you to do this. you don’t know what’s good for you yet, you’ll understand.” he put his hands down like he’d just finished the conversation. he’d made the decision for you, he was done talking about it. but you weren’t.

“dad, he’s a sex obsessed drug addict who feels my friends and i up at parties topper holds. i’m not dating him.” you weren’t getting aggressive, but you weren’t about to drop this and give in to your dad’s wishes.

“shut - would you just shut up, y/n? he’s a respectable boy who you’d be lucky to have.” your dad made his argument again, raising his voice. he looked you up and down like you were something he was selling, but something he was disappointed in. your jean shorts and tube top obviously disappointed him, but that was your goal with the outfit anyway. pissing off your dad in a nonchalant way that he wouldn’t bring up unless you made him mad some other way.

“no? i won’t shut up, he’s-” you didn’t get a chance to finish before he started yelling. 

“y/n, i’m not dealing with this disrespect right now. you’re being a crybaby, you’re going to go over to the cameron’s and you’re going to ask him to take you to the yacht club later. i’ve made myself clear.” his voice was booming and terrifying, and the only thing you could focus on.

“i’m not doing that, dad-” he never let you finish when you argued. you took a step towards him as he began to back away from you, not wanting that to be the end of the argument, but he grabbed your wrist and raised his free hand in a threatening manner.

“don’t make me do this, baby. i won’t forgive myself.” he didn’t sound like he would regret it, but you flinched. you were scared, like you always were.

you stayed quiet, and after a few seconds, he lowered his hand and let go of his death grip on your hand. “good.” he muttered, leaving the kitchen. 

you felt like a coward, but you’d saved yourself from a black eye.

yet, you possibly signed up for many future injuries by obeying your father.

you figured you just needed to get it over with. abandoning whatever breakfast you’d planned on having, you headed to the foyer to put on your shoes and leave. knowing rafe cameron, he probably wasn’t even out of bed yet. you’d unfortunately catch him or one of his friends before you even left the neighborhood. 

this couldn’t be that bad. it was... for the family.

you slid your feet into some sandals, and you couldn’t help but think about what you were heading towards. drugs. long nights. bruises. y/n cameron. your own father was having you do this, almost on free will. 

opening the door, you looked across the lawn to the source of a noise you’d blocked out. you’d forgotten that one of the pogues was mowing your damn lawn. 

he was blond. wearing some dumb surfer-dude snapback and cargo shorts. it looked like his shirt was tucked into his back pocket, and he was glistening with sweat. the lawnmower stopped humming when he saw you, and he raised his hand to wave. 

you figured it couldn’t hurt to talk to him. just to delay the inevitable. 

a few strides across the lawn and you were in front of him, and it looked like he had a dumb smile on his face.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning his forearms on the lawnmower. he used the name jokingly, and he’d been doing so ever since you met. he compared you to a princess locked in a tower - rapunzel. it was cheesy, but it didn’t take you long to realize that he wasn’t really wrong. “trouble in paradise?”

you scoffed, but a smile stayed on your face. this was dumb, he was dumb. but he was nice to talk to.

“rafe cameron is what’s wrong” you laughed, hearing his name come out of your own mouth stung. 

jj grimaced, shaking his head. “ouch. rich boy causing problems? that’s news to me.” 

“nice joke. funny.” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. he only knew the half of it. “no, actually, i’m on my way to ask him to... date, i guess. long term stuff. for the family, or whatever my dad was talking about.” you rambled a bit, half talking to yourself. 

jj almost looked concerned, the smile barely fading from his face. you didn’t want to confide in him, but he seemed to welcome it.

“and, and i don’t want to,” you continued, shaking your head, “my dad’s just... he’s a scary guy. you know? i’ve been dealing with him for forever, but he’s just... terrifying when you don’t do what he wants you to. that’s why i live such a comfortable life, though, right? i should be thankful.” you laughed in a bittersweet manner, gesturing to your obnoxious house.

“that’s how things work around here, princess.” jj laughed, watching you look at the world the way he did.

“well, yeah. yeah, i know, but he’s making me go and... get with rafe cameron. rafe. cameron. rafe fucking cameron! isn’t that insane? and when i said no, he got all loud and he grabbed me and i almost made him hit me.” you unintentionally put the blame on yourself, rubbing your sore wrist.

jj’s eyebrows furrowed when you mentioned your dad getting a little physically violent with you.

“that’s... not cool.” he didn’t know what to say. he was nowhere near letting you in on some of the more personal parts of his life, but... he could... relate. 

“no, no it’s not.” you agreed, taking a deep breath. god, you were almost crying. you didn’t even know when the tears had started threatening to come out. “it’s just... i’ve done everything. i’m, like, the perfect kook girl. i do everything he says. i’m nice to my mom. i take care of his stuff. i run with his people. you’d think he’d let me have a say in something like this.” 

jj stayed quiet again, biting his lip. 

“but no, no, i’m dumb for thinking like that. freedom is a privilege i don’t have. i’m a rich girl in a cage.” you nodded, laughing a little more. you sounded so sad - like, you didn’t know why you were complaining. 

“you should meet my friends.” jj suggested, shrugging like it was a random idea he threw out there. “we aren’t into drugs. well, okay, that’s a lie, our livers are all probably shot and i’m a pothead, but we’re nice.” he joked, rambling a little himself. 

he couldn’t save you, but he could sure as hell make things a little better.

“boat rides. fishing. the marsh. not a yacht and definitely not a yacht club, but i like to think we’re a little cooler.” jj kept going, waiting for your answer.

“yeah. sure, why not?” you didn’t have to be the perfect daughter. especially when you were being treated like shit by the people you gave everything to. 

you could... probably take a few beatings. it was worth a good time, though. 

“good to know. we’ll swing by tomorrow morning, unless you want to get out of here asap?” he suggested, looking at the rest of the lawn he had to mow. he’d be screwed if he didn’t wrap it up, but he seemed to think he had his priorities in order. 

“as soon as possible, please.” you admitted, watching him push the lawn mower next to your house, just out of view.

“alright, princess. let’s get you out of here.”

a/n -- psa i love jj. in case u didn’t already know. send me more requests :’)

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Man Behind the Curtain

Here, we have the second to last story of the “governments meeting/Citadel” arc.  We finally find out who precisely attacked, any why they did it.  I hope you all liked it.  As always, I do not own any of these characters except Drake and his crew.  

“Pieces on a god’s chessboard are just that: pieces, and if you fail to perform adequately or refuse to play your part, you will be removed and another will fulfill your duty.”

Aboard the IMC Rhodes

The clean black deck rang with the thumps of two pairs of boot soles.  Two pairs of hands ran through their equipment, tightening straps and checking weapons one last time.  Two pairs of eyes scanned the massive Titan deck of the Rhodes.  The two Pilots stepped onto small, circular elevators.  M.R.V.N. robots waved cheerfully at them.  The elevators took them up to the scaffolding around their Titans, cockpits already standing open.  

Pilot Elizabeth Reiner stepped inside her Titan.  The M.R.V.N on the scaffolding flashed her a thumbs up.  With a quick reach back, she stored her carbine in a holster inside the cockpit.  Pilots controlled Titans, to be sure, but you never knew when you’d be forced to dismount.  

“Welcome back, Pilot,” came the A.I. voice of KK-9734.  

“Good to be back,” she replied with a grin from underneath her helmet.  She pressed a button, and the cockpit closed, sealing her inside.  A hologram lit up on the panel next to her.  

“Pilots, you are to deploy and provide fire and heavy armor support here.  There is no need to leave you Titans.  After your mission is complete, our shuttles will retrieve you.”  Standard mission briefing from the general.  Her comms crackled to life.  

“Milk run,” came the voice of her wingman, Pilot Kara Morse.  

“Pilot Morse is incorrect.  This is a Titan heavy armor and fire support mission, not a delivery of calcium hydroxide,” replied KK-9734.  Reiner snorted with laughter.  Many Pilots realized that their Titans were way too literal, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.  

“Very true, KK.  Very true.”  There was a slight thump as the two Titans were lowered into place.  The general’s voice sounded over the comms.  

“Stand by for Titanfall.” 

On the Citadel

“Go!” yelled Vir.  The squad in the next crater up took to their feet as one and started to fire at the machine gun emplacements inside the hotel.  Shepard vaulted the crater he was standing in and took off at a dead sprint for Vir’s crater.  An ATLAS mech fired a burst in his direction, but he ignored it as he slid forward and tumbled, hands over heels, into the safety of the crater.  He stood up and brushed dust off his armor.  

Medical crater, was his first thought.  This crater was less of a crater, and more of a large trench-like hole.  Lining the insides were dozens of wounded soldiers and the Turian, GA, and Valhallan medics working on them.  Nearby, a horribly battered human, his uniform unrecognizable and chest torn open, writhed and screamed on the ground as Kraiker, the Apocalypse’s medic, worked on him.  Two C-Sec officers stood anxiously over the pair.

“Is he going to be alright?” asked one of the C-Sec agents.  Kraiker didn’t even look up.

“He will be if you shut the fuck up and let me work,” he snapped.  “Shepard. Vir,” he said, still not looking up.  “If you want some of these cases to live, I suggest hurrying the hell up.  Chakwas, Katie, Krill, and whoever the hell is on the Enterprise are probably better than I am, and we can’t get to them unless we clear this area.”  Before either could say anything, there was a flicker behind them.  Cooper’s cloak turned off and he jumped into the trench just as a machine gun stitched a line of mass-propelled rounds above him.  Cooper shook his head and brushed off his helmet.  

“I heard, I heard,” he said, holding up a hand before either Vir or Shepard could say anything.  “I’m calling in my Titan.”  he spoke into his helmet for a moment.  “There we go.  Stand by for Titanfall.”  High above, three streaks of light shone at the edge of the Citadel’s artificial atmosphere.  Cooper looked up in confusion.  “Wait a minute.  There’s only supposed to be one…” he trailed off.  Another voice sounded, this time over the open comms system of the Scoundrels instead of Cooper’s private one.

“This is Commander Briggs,” said a human woman’s voice.  “You asked for armor support, so the IMC decided to reply.  Cooper, you guys are on the same side, so try not to kill each other.”  

“Tell that to them,” Cooper muttered to himself.  The three Titans, two IMC, one Militia, slammed into the ground with enough force to briefly shake it.  Glowing blue domed shields appeared around them, protecting them from all incoming fire.  Cooper activated his cloak, and with a vault, and quick sprint, launched himself at his Titan.  

BT-7274 caught Cooper in mid air, and gently placed him inside his cockpit.  The three Titan’s dome shields dissipated.  Immediately, they started firing on the enemy soldiers entrenched inside the hotel.  Massive cannon shells, 20mm armor piercing bullets, and rockets ripped through the hotel’s outer facade as the allied soldiers beneath the Titans advanced.  

The soldiers inside the hotel panicked at the appearance of the massive war machines.  The remaining ATLAS mechs that tried to stop them were swiftly obliterated as the allied soldiers reached the hotel.  The defenders ran from the outer walls to the back, hoping to get away from the assault… only to find themselves walking directly into the waiting fire of the ODSTs.  

Elsewhere on the Citadel

Drake spun rapidly, lashed out with his boot heel, and broke the ankle of a Cerberus trooper.  The other leg came around, and the errant soldier flew onto the Citadel’s pavement.  Drake snapped his feet together, perfectly timed to the beat of the music playing, of course, and shot the trooper through the head.  He turned once more, and shot another soldier down, the kinetic barriers of the enemy stopping the bullet, but not the plasma infusion that blew a hole in her chest.  

Rocket spun around, machine gun firing wildly.  A maniacal cackle iminated from his mouth as he gunned down Cerberus soldiers, their shields and armor giving way to horrifying amounts of bullets.  

Jack, a powerful human biotic and member of Sheaprd’s crew, snapped the neck of a charging enemy with nought but a thought and flash of blue energy.  She picked up another struggling trooper with a cocoon of biotic power, and threw him through the arches of a particularly ugly metal sculpture.  An Apocalypse armsman slid forward on his knees and threw out his arms.  

“Goal!” he screamed.  Jack smiled.  She liked these people.  They were crazy.  

Nearby, Maverick watched the insanity around her.  Yeah, she could be loose.  A little crazy, especially to Kril’s standards.  But this?  This was a bit too much.  Ramirez skated across a puddle of water, almost fell, and still managed to get his rifle up in time to kill an advancing Cerberus soldier.  

“Maverick!  You’re the only non-crazy one here!” he laughed.  

“Someone has to keep you guys in check,” she shot back.  Drake looked over from where he was repeatedly ramming a knife through the armor joints of a struggling Turian.  

“Well, to be fair, you’re a lot less crazy than everyone else, Ramirez,” he said.

“Hey!  I resent that!” he yelled back.  Ramiriez spun around, only to realize there were no enemies left.  How odd.  Drake turned and walked up to a set of double doors leading god-only-knew where and started to fiddle with the control panel as two of his armsmen kept watch.  He struggled for a moment, only for the panel to give him an electrical shock.  

“Ah!  Fuck me!” he swore as he shook his hand.  Rameirez cocked an eyebrow.  

“Well, usually I’d buy you dinner first, but sure.”  Drake’s neck snapped around so fast Maverick swore she could hear vertebrae pop.  

“I like this one!” Drake yelled jubilantly.  He fiddled with the control panel a bit more, before giving it a resounding kick.  “Dammit.  Stupid thing won’t let me in.”  He motioned to the demolition teams.  “Muelka!  Federer!  Blow it the fuck up!”  The two advanced with positively feral grins on their faces.  

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

Elsewhere on the Citadel

A set of heavy double doors guarded the way into the attackers’ last stronghold on the Citadel.  Apparently, the other landing forces had managed to do quite good for themselves, with a group of traitor C-Sec officers even coming up to Shepard and begging him to take them prisoner rather than face whatever Quill and Drake were doing.  A distant rumbling and pall of thick smoke rising into the air in Drake’s direction gave a good indication of precisely what they were fleeing.  All communications in Quill’s direction were completely shut down, which was rather ominous… for the opposition.  Shepard and Vir had faith that Quill could weasel his way out of whatever was going on over there.  

As for Shepard and Vir’s group, well…  No one was going to stop thousands of the best soldiers in the universe, backed up by three Titans and two living legends.  Simplicity itself.  

As for the door, there was a current argument between the members of Shepard’s ground squad, led by his first lieutenant Miranda Lawson and the Tempestus Scions and ODSTs.  Lawson, backed up by the Normady’s chief engineer, Tali'Zorah, wanted to hack the doors open, which would take a bit of time.  The Scions and ODSTs wanted to simply blow them open.  It was at the moment that the Scions started going for their weapons, disliking that Lawson and Shepard were working alongside “xenos scum,” that Vir decided to intervene.  

“Why don’t we all settle down, huh?  It doesn’t serve any purpose to kill each other, especially since we’ve been working together to take back the Citadel,” said Vir.  He turned towards the lead Scion.  “We’ve wasted enough time already.  Blow open the doors.”  The Scion nodded and gestured to a pair of his troopers carrying bombs.  

“You heard the man.  Blow it open.”  Vir turned to Shepard and Lawson.

“I know you want to preserve as much of the Citadel as possible, but we want to get to the bottom of this attack, and demolition is faster.  I can pay for any damages, if required.”  Shepard shook his head.

“I won’t have you paying for anything if I can palm off the charges to the Council,” he replied.  Vir grinned.

“Fair enough.”  He looked over to the doors, where the Scions had placed their charges.  A mixed group of Scions and ODSTs stood on both sides, guns at the ready.  

“Ready?” called the leader.

“Ready!” came the reply.

“Breach!”  The charges exploded inwards with a massive blast of heat, melting a huge hole in the doors.  Soldiers streamed in, checking corners and moving forward, ready to destroy their enemies.  Of which there were none.  

Vir and Shepard, backed up by a cadre of heavily armed troopers, stepped through the ragged hole in the door.

“Waste of perfectly good melta charges, if you ask me,” opinionated the Scion commander.  

“Move forward.  There has to be someone here,” replied Shepard.  Heavy boots thunked into the cold metal surface of the dimly lit space as the various allied soldiers spread throughout the building.  

“Contact!” someone shouted.  This was followed by a sudden blast of small arms fire from at least twelve different points, and a small explosion.

“I think you got ‘em,” said Vir dryly.  

“Yeah.  The grenade was a bit… overkill,” voiced Shepard as he looked over the unfortunate individual's remains, mostly consisting of bloody smears on the walls.  

“They’re in here!” called an ODST, gesturing to a large open room with several overhanging balconies.  The rest of the soldiers filed in, quickly killing the nine terrified-looking people inside.  

Above them all was a group of blue skinned aliens.  Asari.  The one in charge sneered at the entering soldiers.  

“Well, it looks as if you have come here to die, scum.  Our master was right about this,” she said.

“Master?” asked Shepard to no one in particular.  The Asari gave him a leering grin.  

“The Shadow Broker does not take kindly to your interference, Shepard, and once you’re dead, I’ll give your body to him.”

“Wait.  Why the hell would the Shadow Broker, and information dealer, want to attack the Citadel with every bloody government in existence here?  And why the hell are you, an Asari, working with Cerberus, a human supremacist group?” asked Shepard.  The Scions, Valhallans, marines, ODSTs, and Vir looked back and forth between the two, as if it were a tennis match.

“That’s for him to know, and you to find out!”  The Asari turned to one of the balconies.  “Kill them!”  A group of mercenaries stormed the balcony, and pointed their weapons at the allied forces down below.  Before they could fire, a flurry of shots rang out behind them, and they fell to the ground, stone dead.  

Quill, followed by a very shaken looking Captain Viter, along with their outflanking group, stepped out from behind them.  

“Yeah, well, sometimes it pays to not have a plan, ‘cause if you don’t know what you’re doing, then the enemy certainly can’t know what you’re doing!” said Quill.  He pointed his pistols at the group of Asari.  “Your move.”  

Every individual in the group readied their weapons and started to glow with a strange blue light.  

“Doesn’t matter.  You still have to kill us!” yelled the Shadow Broker’s minion.  However, before they could do anything, more shots rang out.  A group of the Asari fell dead.  Two more were picked up and developed in blue energy, and thrown into the ceiling where they expired with a series of sickly crunches.  The leader’s head was then promptly blown apart, to reveal Drake and his outflanking group.  

Drake twirled his pistol around a finger and blew non-existent smoke from its barrel.

“Well.  That was fun.  Now what?”  All of the different factions turned to look at each other.  

“I’m sure the Council would love to thank you all for saving their station,” said Shepard, with only the barest hints of sarcasm in his voice.  “Hell, they might even throw us a party.”

The Lair of the Shadow Broker

“You have failed me.”  The voice came again, swirling with infinite power.  It was ever-changing, made up of thousands of tongues, thousands of species, individuals, emotions, and languages at once.  The Shadow Broker cringed.  He was one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy, but the voice brought him to his knees nevertheless.  The physical power he held as a yahg, a species that few knew about, was nothing here.  “You were supposed to destroy the Citadel, along with all of these pathetic mortals!  Instead, a group you did not plan for stopped me!”  All his planning, all the contacts he had in Cerberus, the Citadel, and various species’ militaries had failed.  

“My lord, perhaps if-”

“Silence!”  The Broker cringed again.  For six decades he had schemed and maneuvered behind the shadows.  He had destroyed the original Shadow Broker.  He was confident he could get out of this deal… if he wasn’t dealing with the God of Schemes.  

“My hold upon this reality is tenacious, at best.  My most powerful mortal agent has turned against me and been hidden from my sight.  This is why I turned to you.  But you failed.”  The voice projected a thousand emotions at once: anger, fear, sadness, melancholy, love.  The Broker furiously scratched at his head to dispel the wrongness of so many contradictory feelings at once.  “My power here is weak, yes,” continued the voice, “but not enough to do this!”  

The Shadow Broker screamed.  His body twisted in horrifying, reality-bending ways.  Arms morphed into tentacles, then back again.  His skin flashed through a million colors in the span of seconds, some he’d never seen before.   His eyes shot out of his body on stalks, and fell over his chest.  Skin shed.  Eyes fell out of eyes, and appeared throughout his body.  Bones twisted into horrifying spurs.  Blood transformed into a thousand different liquids at once.  Organs ripped themselves out of his chest, then re-arranged themselves.  His body twisted, turning inside-out, upside-down, then back again.  His massive maw widened further, to terrifying degrees, and teeth grew longer.  Organs mutated, bones contorted, limbs elongated, and internal tissues burst forth from his skin.  

The Shadow broker screamed.  And screamed.  The last thing to change was his sentience.  He went from an individual of ruthless cunning and massive intelligence to a gibbering, mindless, mutated and twisted husk.  Everything was taken from him, his immortal soul devoured by daemons.  

There he would remain, a twisted, soulless, mindless husk until he was found by his minions, who were promptly torn apart.  After half an hour, the thing that was once the Shadow Broker was finally put down by his own guards, erasing the sin of his existence. 

“Arhiman has gone from my sight.  The Shadow Broker is useless.  These… Scoundrels are an annoyance but present an… opportunity.  It matters not what has happened.  This is only the very first move of the Game.  I am Tzeentch, and you are all my pawns that move when I say so.”

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 75: Paper Weight

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter  6. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Religion, joint issues, diet/appetite weirdness, brief transphobia adjacent anxiety, minor dehumanizing ghoul treatment. Uh. Not in that order. A slightly longer groundwork chapter, and continuing evidence that I am, in fact, criminally insane. [Updated 2021.07.12.]

“...[F]ixed in a sort of eternity at the heart of the crystal.” -- Orwell’s 1984

______________________________

‘Choly woke to Sticks gently stroking at his long dark shock-streaked hair. He could not discern the time of day without any light sneaking in around the edges of curtains, and recalled their inn room did not have windows. The ghoul drew his attention back to him with a drowsy smile.

“Ready to start the day?”

To resist the draw to curl up into Sticks, ‘Choly stretched out with a yawn, only to jerk his eyes open. He laid on his back for some time. In the night, one of his shoulders had separated and dragged his neck out of alignment.

“--I’m not ready, but let’s start anyway. Angel, be a dear and turn the lights on, please.“

The Mister Handy puffed to life again. Reignition of its pilot light cast dim outlines to the space. Unveiling the Burlington glass fixtures returned the room to unnatural illumination by that strange red-green light which ‘Choly disliked intuiting as gold. By the time Angel had completed the task, Sticks had thrown himself out of bed to dress.

‘Choly managed to sit up, and palpated at his errant joints, using the mindful pressure of his fingertips to coax things back into place. Not dislocating his fingers in the process required what little focus he could summon without coffee or his reinforced gloves, but he could barely move let alone think straight with the strumming stitches radiating through his arm and neck. He squirmed inside, knowing he couldn’t help but force Sticks to bear witness to the strangled hisses and cartilaginous pops.

Angel presented ‘Choly a can, which he accepted half-awake. He put on his glasses one-handed.

“A canister of fresh water to start your day, Sir? I’ve only got the one at present, if you’d like to split it. More is on the way.”

“Would you be able to open it...?”

“I have no sharp implements,” it apologized.

“Give me that.”

Sticks snatched it playfully and held it between his knees while he reattached his Pip-Boy and left hand. He hadn’t quite got to buttoning his shirt just yet. He slipped the glove off his mechanical prosthetic, and produced a sort of multitool from the armature of the region analogous to the metacarpal bones. As the ghoul made use of the folding implement, ‘Choly watched the hand’s exposed mechanical parts in motion, intimating tendons and ligaments, not always attached to something resembling a bone. A dull pop liberated the can’s lid. Sticks took a few swigs and handed it to ‘Choly helpfully, before hiding the tool again and slipping the glove back on. He moved on to finishing with his shirt so he could tie his bow-tie blind, humor to his breath.

‘Choly simply sat there and observed Sticks at length, nearly altogether forgetting gratitude or thirst. Words failed him. Sticks ran his right hand over his one surviving curl of hair. The blond ghoul noticed him staring and sat up straighter.

“What?”

“A pocket knife? That’s allowed?” He kept turning his neck, head held at deliberate angles, seeking that last tweak of alignment his cervical vertebrae wouldn’t yield him.

“See’s never asks me to show my hand,” he shrugged. “Half the time, they don’t even notice it’s not flesh.”

“This isn’t about your hand, and you know it.”

“Hey now. They’re fine with utensils. It’s got to be scarier than a butter knife to make them skittish. Really, though. Don’t mention it. It’d probably risk ‘em taking my whole hand, especially now that it’s wired into this thing.”

Sticks huffed a bit. Angel leapt to assist when his neckwear wouldn’t cooperate.

“Oh, do let me help you with that, Sir.”

“Thanks, chap. Hard to do without a mirror.”

“I brought in a hand mirror.” Unappeased, ‘Choly gestured to Angel for his hairbrush, which he set to using with his head dipped between his knees, desperate to couple the inversion of gravity with cadence of his brushing. Once he sat up again, he looked to Sticks. “Which, would it be all right if we brought in some things from the car? I figure that even if we get lucky today, we’ve paid for a week, so we may as well stay for a week. No sense in rushing things. Might miss something, if we do.”

Sticks tilted his head.

“I could warm to that. What all would you even need to bring in, though?”

“Little things,” he reassured a little too quickly. “Toiletries. Some spare clothes. Nothing too elaborate.”

“I don’t see why not.” He gripped his own knees. “Let’s knock that out. After, we can head to breakfast. Now. You want my help with your corset and stuff?”

‘Choly’s shoulders folded in as he worked at unbuttoning his shirt. His reservations came not from distrust but self-consciousness. Despite having partook in several kinds of sex acts with him already, he still preferred that the ghoul only see him naked from behind, if at all. But, he didn’t care to parse any selfishness or perversion in the offer: he wanted Sticks’s help. He’d be a hypocrite, anyway, to find fault in Sticks’s own enjoyment of the activity, when his very physiology provided the same passive delight for ‘Choly. He pulled the corset to him, and removed his shirt so he could hook the busks. Only then, holding it up against his front, did he relent to receiving help stringing the back. The more pieces Sticks helped him into, the more straightened out and held in place he felt. More clearly than usual, he craved the full-body orthotics set, in the expectation that with them he might feel normal again. Functional again. In any sense. In every.

He objected, mostly internally, that his brain would thrust heavy self-reflection on him so soon after waking. The idea of returning to bed enticed him again. No. Sooner than do so in the bathroom mirror, he pinned up a french twist blind and loose.

The two finished off the water before leaving the room.

They first stopped at the restrooms, where Angel waited just outside. ‘Choly flinched at the doorway, only to scold himself for even thinking he shouldn’t use the men’s room. He remained aware of others the entire time, relieved to go unnoticed and unremarkable. He insisted to himself that the night before had been a fluke.

Exiting the mall made ‘Choly wish he’d brought his visor inside. The garage’s luminosity wasn’t significantly greater than inside the mall, but the shift in hues to natural lighting pulsated in his right-sided cervical migraine. He didn’t think he’d gotten used to the limited color spectrum indoors so soon, yet here he was, nearly thinking seeing any color besides red, green, and gold signified he was seeing colors which didn’t exist. The intensity with which he saw cyan, magenta, and even white, he approximated to an aura migraine. The edges of his vision felt over-illuminated and blurry. If this sensitivity overload would take place every time he adjusted to and from Burlington glass lighting, he decided he would avoid going inside and out with any frequency for the remainder of their stay.

In the garage, mostly only the children paid any attention to the trio. So early in the morning, many inhabitants shared cinder block campfires to prepare community breakfast. On the way to Little Boy Blue, they passed through delectable aromas of sweet breads and pan seared meat.

Sticks opened the trunk for ‘Choly. Once he could tell ‘Choly intended to make use of Angel’s storage compartment to carry his things inside, he tossed in few of his own clothes too. He smirked at yet another of ‘Choly’s outdated behaviors:

“You packed like you’re on vacation.”

“A vacation with a purpose, perhaps. I’m grateful for it, though. It doesn’t seem this hotel has complimentary soaps.”

Sticks snickered.

“To broach a veritable elephant,” Angel stressed, “I must point out that while we may be booked for a week’s lodging here, you only have four Melancholia remaining, Mister Carey. In addition to our primary goal, we should stay on the lookout for toothpaste and mouthwash today. And we may no longer require them for first aid, but do recall that Stimpaks are the most important part of that recipe.”

Stimpaks. 'Choly paled at his oversight.

“Surely four of those things will get you through the week,” Sticks muttered. “You can’t swear off food now, with the biggest restaurant cluster in New England at the other end of the building.”

“...If I can help it.”

Sticks puffed up.

“Not if I can help it.”

The Mister Handy and chemist turned down the invitation to argument.

On their way back inside, ‘Choly saw Maury eating with a group of other settlers. He didn’t want to interrupt their meal, but he still waved. When See’s screened them, ‘Choly showed them Angel’s compartment again. Everything passed muster with security, albeit thoroughly rifled through. ‘Choly welcomed their return to the clear, dark uniformity of the mall interior’s red-green glow. They dropped off their things at the room, then went into the mall proper.

The Concourse seemed to only just be waking up by this hour. Most walked southward like them. Only half the stores looked open for business. ‘Choly looked to his Pip-Boy for the time. Just after nine. He accepted it and slouched as comfortably as he could atop Angel.

He figured most of the people headed to the food court were Laners, while the rest were probably visitors, or at least lived outside the mall. Along the way, he people-watched, eventually making a visual distinction between Laners and everyone else less by their routine and more through their attire. The fashion of mall denizens seemed to posit some commixture of Irish crochet, beaded silk, and embroidered tweed, bakelite and astrakhan, plus-fours and long trailing skirt hems, chemisettes and dickeys tethered with layers of scarves and shawls.

More people packed into the boisterous food court for breakfast than had for dinner. Even getting to the counter with the shortest line took patience, with hundreds seeking their first meals. Sticks ordered himself carrot pancakes, then turned to ‘Choly.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in breakfast? With the lines like this, I’m not ordering twice.”

Fatigued lyric traced his reply as he patted at Angel’s storage compartment to retrieve his Billerica Golf Course mug with a smile:

“You can interest me in a cup of coffee.”

The ghoul impatiently resigned to a smaller order than he’d liked, and flashed his inn room key fob to net a discount. He requested a plate from Angel, and took it and ‘Choly’s mug to hold out for the server, who confirmed, yes maple syrup, black no sugar, before plating up as requested. Twenty-seven pulls lighter, Sticks let Angel locate their seat with its higher passive senses.

‘Choly sat with his coffee warming his gloved hands for some time, content to let the aromatic steam roll over his face while he watched Sticks dig in with knife and fork. Angel set a Melancholia bottle on the table. Eventually, Sticks’s bites slowed, and he stopped to finish chewing. He cut off a forkful and held it out with a cupped hand beneath, optimistic the craving spurred ‘Choly’s attention.

“The maple syrup makes up for it being carrot.”

‘Choly eyed it. Sooner than admit due impropriety, he let him stuff the bite in his mouth. He had expected the syrup and apple compote to provide all the sweetness, but the finely grated root vegetable mixed into the batter contributed both sweet and savory. Against his better judgment, to quash any question altogether, he mooched a second bite as well with interest.

“Don’t you like carrot?”

“...Blueberries aren’t in season,” Sticks eventually smiled. “Now, I’d happily split these with you... or are you actually happy with that damn silt flour smoothie?”

“I’m only happy with my Melancholia, in that it doesn’t upset my stomach.” He opened it with his reinforced gloves, and thought to himself, This batch isn’t even cherry. It’s mint. “If you want my full faculties, you’ll have me with Mentats, Melancholia, and a cup of black coffee.”

Brow raised, Sticks frowned into his plate as he scrutinized where to cut off his next bite.

“Far be it for me to come between you and your faculties.”

Angel used the dish station at the far end of the food court to rinse their plate, mug, and utensils. Then, they got to skimming stores.

Beginning just outside the Customs House, they poked around any open store which appeared to carry armor or apparel. ‘Choly went by cane for the most part, and tried not to let interesting garments distract him or his cash from his goal. He wasn’t about to spend anything until he knew the price tag on liberating the leather orthotics from whoever might have them. Neither their descriptions nor the product photos in the catalogue produced results.

In one shop, Sticks unhelpfully described the item to the clerk, who immediately pointed them to an array of girdles and brassieres. Beet red and speechless, ‘Choly had to nearly shove away the salesmanship, no matter the young man’s encouragement or respect. Sticks didn’t know whether to find ‘Choly’s reaction revealing or amusing.

They passed crossway between the main entrance and Sutter Grove, only for ‘Choly to stop cold. Like some strange airport reunion, a loud, excited group of Laners fawned over a black woman with a shoulder-length white bob--white all the more stark in contrast to the red-green golden mall-sea. When Sticks noticed ‘Choly had stopped, he backtracked, eyes on the woman sooner than him.

“You need me to help you up on Angel?”

“Such accolades. What do you suppose she means to them?”

“From the look of her, she must travel a lot. They probably just haven’t seen her in a real long time. It’s not important. They’re going to Burlington Glassworks. They won’t have what we’re here for. Now come on.”

Head askew, ‘Choly watched the gaggle drag the overwhelmed yet pleasant woman across the Concourse and to the lighting store.

“I... I want to go in there.”

“Didn’t think you were particularly religious, but whatever. We can take a break and play tourist or somethin’.”

‘Choly almost objected, but figured he’d understand if only he satisfied his curiosity. If he recalled anything from the time before he’d stepped foot in the United States, he knew with certainty he’d been raised to abhor religious observance. At least, outwardly...

Myriad strange shapes the luminescent space, but the motif repeated in the glass art filled with glowing golden red-green fluid, that the neck swirled and looped around the body, then somehow reentered it. Bulbs were hung by these loops from the ceiling, some in knotted strings, while most other bulbs rested in metal fixtures reminiscent of egg cups. If not for the artistic shapes and the hue of light they cast, ‘Choly and Sticks almost considered it like stepping into the lighting department of a hardware store.

“Hierosacristan Fresnel!” The group begged, both in English and what ‘Choly could only presume was French. “Hierosacristan, tell us of your orbit!”

The staff had abandoned their posts in fascination of their visitor. Some showered her with sunflowers. Here, ‘Choly could see the woman wore an ornately embroidered shawl, fur-lined metal armor, and an all-black bodysuit. The woman could only oblige her admirers with a humility strained smile. A dozen or so stone park benches furnished the deeper half of the store, in two neat rows facing the back wall. ‘Choly sat at the last bench to watch, transfixed. Begrudgingly, Sticks joined him, and Angel, behind them.

As she spoke, Fresnel’s deep, silvery voice alternated between English and French, limiting ‘Choly and Sticks’s full comprehension. Her audience seemed more captivated by anything she didn’t say in English.

When she told them, “Qu’Atom vous garde,” they mirrored it in kind. ‘Choly filled in any gaps in the language barrier with presumptions of what little he knew of Orthodoxy.

“Much of my year I have studied in Thomaston... XXXXXXXXXX I wandered the Nashua ruins a bit before coming to the Lane proper... XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX I come to greet the granite... I must travel West before I return to Five Sisters. To report my findings to Grand Mother Skwodovska. But, I savor a leisurely return. My discoveries dictate my orbit. XXXXXXXXXX I Winter at the Lane for the first time... XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX ”

At some point in her speech, she took notice of their visitors. She broke away from sermonizing for the dozen or so practically clutching for her attention, to approach. ‘Choly straightened, expecting her to scold him. But she bowed to Sticks with grace, and held his hand in both her own. The ghoul fell speechless when she smiled up at him.

“What a blessing, that one of Atom’s beloved attends us. I never get the chance to speak with any Undying.”

Sticks let her hold his gloved hand, too, and laid on his charm.

“I’m impressed at our timing. We happen to be at Ant Lane right when such a highly esteemed Child of Atom has popped in.”

Again struggling with humility, she withdrew to stand. Taken aback by the sight of Angel, she hemmed into her fist.

“Forgive my start from the robot. One of my past orbits took me to the Commonwealth, and since my visit to the Cambridge Polymer Labs, I haven’t much liked the company of Mister Handies.”

“Cambridge!” Angel blandished. “Such worldliness.”

She appreciated that it did not take exception with her.

“My brothers and sisters show our devotion in a commitment to travel.”

“Forgive my stupidity,” ‘Choly asked, voice cracking, “but what exactly is a hiero...?”

The intense, robust woman half-sat on the back of the next bench to form her reply. Up close, ‘Choly could make out her face tattoo, of many concentric rings, emanating outward from one eye. Sooner than wonder what it signified, he could only imagine how much it must have hurt. The white bob was a wig.

“You speak Keb? No?” She became more particular in her words. “Among the Children of Atom is an order of scribes, historians, cartographers. We are the Daughters of Radon. We hail from the Rock of Ages. We document and research Atom’s holiest substances, such that any of Atom’s children can safely trace a path and greet everything She has touched. The rank bestowed of Daughters of Radon is Sacristan, keeper of holy spaces. Hierosacristans are the Daughters’ Zealots.”

‘Choly strained to follow along, teetering between looking lost and unintentionally judgmental.

“What interest, then, in granite? I heard correctly, that you intend to greet it? It’s very pretty, but really, I want to understand what has you all so enchanted. Is there correlation between granite and these glass lights?”

Fresnel smiled broad and beaming, nearly sarcastic in a way.

“A visitor from the Commonwealth. I see. The answer is Atom’s touch. We concern ourselves not just with nuclear bodies, but with large sources of granite, marble, and limestone. Anyone could observe these structures, both man-made and still-buried, but it takes the devotion of Daughters to listen to their histories.” A sigh and slouch announced her travel weariness. She pointed above them, to the hanging glass. “Everything is a vessel. We carry our world-soul. Nuclear bodies carry the Holy Light of Atom. And certain stones can carry recorded memories of the worlds which formed this one through Division. The Daughters are committed to documenting these memories, so that the Children can celebrate everything from the past which went into the creation of the present.”

‘Choly fumbled as carefully as he could. It fascinated him, that it seemed more and more that religious devotion tied directly into the creation and maintenance of the increasingly supernatural glowing glass fixtures--let alone that it had anything to do with radioactive material.

No wonder they appreciate Sticks. “And you... listen to the granite here?”

Sticks poorly hid his annoyance with a shift in posture and a grunt.

“Most granite is quite loud. The granite here... whispers.” Fresnel admitted. “The Children often call this place The Quiet Granite. You’re very new, and so eager to learn of Atom’s Kingdom... Are you here to let in Her Holy Light?”

“Until I stepped foot in here, I had no idea this place was a church. I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted to come in to see the lights up close. I’m fascinated that a substance could sustain luminescence without external excitation.”

Though his admission dulled her enthusiasm, his verbiage still held her interest.

“I’m not directly involved in glassblowing, so I know very little of it. The Glow is most remarkable, n’est-ce pas? Even if you’re here merely to marvel at our blessed work, you can still take a piece with you. You should speak with my brothers and sisters here. If you’re more than a scholar or tourist, the local Confessor can direct you to our body of scripture as well. I’m far better suited to geography than sermons.” Fresnel’s attention warmed back to Sticks. “Be no stranger to our space...”

“Sticks.”

“Be no stranger, Sticks.” She smiled, mirthful. “You and your odd friend here are welcome here.”

Before the game of Twenty Questions could continue, Fresnel stood to pat Sticks’s hand... and the top of ‘Choly’s head. The chemist frowned as she excused herself.

“Fresnel spoke directly with you,” a devotee said, behind them. They looked over their shoulders at the nervous man. “Is there anything I can do for you, Undying?”

“It’s Sticks,” he repeated, quickly growing tired of it. “We’re sightseeing, you could call it. I think this fella wants a souvenir.”

The man looked ‘Choly over and nodded, motioning for them to follow him to the counter. He produced an egg-crate tray of walnut sized glass baubles, and picked them up to swirl them around in visual demonstration.

“We’re blessed to meet a Hierosacristan.” He poorly contained his delight. “I wonder if she would permit that I be in her caravan when her orbit carries her onward.”

“Where is she headed next?” ‘Choly asked, moreso making conversation than wishing to know.

“The standard path for all caravans from Ant Lane to Burlington is Route 89, straight through the mountains. But, she mentioned traveling West. The Daughters of Radon follow the orbit of their heart. She may intend another orbit yet uncharted. --Forgive my gushing. You’re interested in a prayer armillary?”

“How much are they?”

The potentially inappropriate question caught in ‘Choly’s throat.

“Fifty-one pulls.”

“You don’t happen to take cash, do you?”

“Certainly. Our caravans do trade with more than just Ant Lane.” The Child picked up the tray’s edge to look at a note on the side. “One hundred fifty dollars.”

So deep in, he didn’t feel like he could say no thank you and just walk away. Not that he wanted to walk away empty handed after such a bizarre interaction.

“Tell me more about them. What makes them glow?”

“There are two aspects to Burlington’s glass artistry. We’re beholden to conceal our craft, but it’s perfectly safe for all Atom’s Children, blessed with the Endurance to withstand Her Light or no.“

In the remark, ‘Choly stifled a shiver at the possibility that the entire mall might be a religious settlement.

“The craftsmanship is remarkable.” His voice cracked. “How long do they last?”

“Years, if they must. But these smallest vessels are intended ephemeral: We encourage that you use them to seal a prayer, then shatter it someplace consequential to disperse the good will into the universe.”

“Are they... still safe if broken?”

“They are not grenades. And to drink its contents would be ill advised, foremost on account of the broken glass.”

“I would never have considered the fluid potable,” ‘Choly lied, having had the thought gifted him. He shakily produced the requested cash, and the Child let him pick one of the egg-like baubles. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you?” His beseeching, bleary eyes suggested more than simple commerce. “Do you require any arrangements? Any accommodations of any kind?”

Sticks eyed the tray with near disappointment, and rocked a bauble around in its cup with one finger.

“...You said they were fifty-one?”

“Take one, gladly!”

Feigning pleasantry, he picked one for himself. It exasperated ‘Choly that Sticks had not attempted to influence the price tag on his trinket, but only his frigid shoulders said as much.

“Thank you. Get to take a piece of this place with me, then.”

“But of course!” The Child nod-bowed to them both. “Qu’Atom vous garde.”

They mirrored the nod, caught in the uncertainty of pronunciation, and the uncertainty of appropriateness that they repeat it back.

‘Choly held his prayer armillary at his chest as they exited the Glassworks. He had no intention of ever break it. The thought crossed him as he glanced down at it, that he could place it in Angel’s storage for use as a perpetual light source, like the light to a glove compartment.

“...Angel,” he asked it, spellbound by the strange, vaguely oily, fluoresceinesque fluid, “you’ve got French programming, haven’t you? That was French, yes? What was she saying?”

“I believe it’s French, Sir. At least, partly. If I’m to understand Miss Fresnel, these Children of Atom worship gamma radiation... as well as something they regard as ‘foreign.’ ”

“Cultists, basically.” Sticks snorted.

'Choly didn’t care whether the Children’s religious motivations made any rational, scientific sense. It still burned him, that they’d given Sticks his trinket for free. The ghoul handed him his with only a vague smirk.

“I, you didn’t want one, then?” He had only starry-eyed gratitude. “Are you sure?”

“Why would I? I let them give it to me so they’d knock it off and let us leave.” The ghoul blurted out an abrupt chuckle and slung an arm around ‘Choly’s shoulders, to grip him a little too forcefully. He kept his voice down, cracked lips inches from ‘Choly’s ear. “Don’t make me go back in there. I get enough of that from you.”

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

A/N: I anglicized the maiden name of Polish-French Marie Skłodowska-Curie, in the expectation that oral tradition would follow phonetically. (I also wanted to differentiate the Grand Mother from both Mother Curie III and FO4′s Curie, while still nodding to the historical figure.)

A/N: I’ve thus far gone all my life not knowing it’s pronounced Freh-nel or Fray-nel. Even my science teachers all pronounced it Fresnel. Hm.

Go to Next »»»

[nekojitachan]

For some reason I was inspired to write more of ‘The Real Thing’. No clue why....

I thought this was going to be really short, too. Ha.

We’re starting to move things along, time-wise and plot-wise. Seriously.

Last part can be found here.

*******

“So, uhm, how are things going there? I mean, outside of the games, you Ravens are on the usual winning streak and they’re already talking about you making Court with the way you’re shutting down the goal whenever you’re playing, but with classes and… uhm, well, with Nathaniel?”

If Nicky didn’t sound as if he expected Andrew to yell at him at any moment, Andrew would tell him to fuck off and hang up. However, Nicky insisted on sending him care packages (and sappy A/B/O books, which Nathaniel continued to ask him about and allowed Andrew to invent ridiculous answers in return) and checking up on him, so… so Andrew humored his cousin.

(Or something like that.)

“I should make the dean’s list this semester and Nate’s fine,” Andrew said as he fought the urge to tap his fingers against the top of his desk.

“Hmm, just fine? He’s your soulmate.”

Once again, Andrew wished that he could have slit Riko’s throat before the prick had announced to the world that Nathaniel was his soulmate, even as at the same time he felt a deeply buried hint of satisfaction over knowing that everyone referred to Nathaniel as ‘his’.

He needed a drink.

“He’s fine,” Andrew repeated. “Still breathing and has all of his limbs.” All of his very attractive, very flexible limbs.

“That’s not- oh fine.” Nicky was definitely sulking on the other end of the line. “You could be a bit more romantic about finding your other half, you know.”

“Why? He’s my other half.”

“Exactly.” Nicky’s tone softened as he spoke that word. It was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Uhm, you hear from Aaron lately?”

Andrew didn’t say anything as he thought about how his twin continued to avoid him.

“Ah, yeah, okay.” Now Nicky sounded sad. “He’ll… he’ll come around. It’s difficult, not knowing where one’s soulmate is when everyone else has found theirs,” he tried to explain. “He’s feeling a bit jealous right now.”

Why would Aaron feel jealous? Andrew had moved away from California and given up any chance of a family he might have with Cass because of his brother (even if it included Drake), had gotten rid of Tilda for Aaron (who really should pay attention when making bargains), had joined the Ravens… well, partially because of the scholarship extended to Aaron (and partially because of the north star mark on his left forearm).

“It’s time for practice,” Andrew lied, unwilling to talk anymore.

“Oh, okay. Tell Nathaniel I said ‘hi’! I can’t wait to meet him, maybe during the holiday-“

Andrew hung up on his insane cousin before Nicky could go any further with that ridiculous plan, then completed his English homework. Ben had gone off to one of the study rooms to talk to his family, and returned a few minutes before the afternoon practice started (for real) with a disgruntled expression on his face.

When Andrew arched an eyebrow over the way his roommate slammed his books onto his desk, Ben huffed and shook his head. “Riko’s being even more of his ‘I’m the captain, do what I say or else’ self.” When Andrew’s drug-induced smile flattened, Ben shook his head again, that time with more vigor. “Nate wasn’t involved! He went after Jordon because of his performance this morning, and then got even angrier when Kevin tried to step in.”

As long as Nathaniel was all right. “What else is new?” Riko had become a nagging little bitch (more of a nagging little bitch) as the season progressed, as he became obsessed with ensuring that the Ravens led not only their district but the entire Class I division in points, as he excelled in both the collegiate and professional leagues.

Which meant that he became a bitter little bitch whenever he felt that he wasn’t given his due as the best striker in all of Exy, whenever someone stole his thunder (especially if it was his own partner) or if he believed that his teammates were lacking. Which meant that the Ravens had to put up with the psychotic prick’s mercurial moods.

Had Andrew said moods? More like tantrums.

At least as long as Andrew continued to either shut down the goal entirely during his time on court (not always possible) or limit the other team to one or two points, then Riko left him (and Nathaniel) alone. Well, the prick wasn’t happy when he ‘politely’ (meaning didn’t shove a knife in their ribs) reminded people to keep their fucking hands off Nathaniel, but it was still possible to play a game with a concussion or broken fingers.

Ben managed a weak chuckle at Andrew’s statement, then they left for practice; Andrew didn’t see Nathaniel or Jean in the locker room, which meant that they were already out on court. That wasn’t too much of a surprise since as part of Riko’s ‘perfect court’, they were expected to put in extra effort (to live up to the ‘perfect’ part), but it also meant that a certain prick expected more of them.

Andrew didn’t exactly run out of the locker room, but he managed a fast-paced ‘saunter’ that got him to the court before the rest of the team. He was just in time to notice a very familiar flush to his soulmate’s cheeks and gleam in those startling blue eyes as Nathaniel watched on while Riko tore into Kevin about – well, Andrew didn’t really give a shit about what, just stopping Nathaniel from getting into trouble.

“Why don’t you-“

“There’s my sweetpea!” Andrew called out right before he used his racquet as an improvised hook to draw Nathaniel towards him; Jean jumped at the loud noise then scoffed at his actions. “Got a kiss for your honeybun?”

“I’ve got a knife for your belly,” Nathaniel gritted out, yet he allowed Andrew to ‘reel’ him in. “What did I say about calling me that?”

Andrew pretended to think about the demand for a moment. “Okay, snugglewoogums.”

Behind them, Jean tried to turn a chuckle into a cough while Riko finally stopped berating Kevin. Nathaniel gave Andrew an incredibly pained look before he shook his head in defeat. “Fine, stick with the first one,” he spat as he ducked his head.

Aware of Riko’s attention on them, Andrew allowed his grin and tone to take on a salacious edge. “I told you I always get my way.” He smacked his soulmate on the ass with the handle of his racquet, well aware that he’d get an earful (and more threats about being filleted) later on, while Riko grinned in approval.

“It seems we finally found someone to tame our wild #3,” Riko taunted; for a moment, Andrew worried that it would set off his soulmate, but Nathaniel glanced over at Kevin, who had hurried to get the rest of the team ready for practice (and away from Riko), and seemed to decide to let the snide comment slide since things had settled down.

It was the usual Ravens’ practice after that (of which Andrew was So. Damn. Bored); going over the Ravens’ drills (and being caned by Tetsuji for any mistakes), followed by learning a new play or two (and being caned for not paying attention) and then a few scrimmages (and more caning for mistakes). Riko was quick to pounce on any players he felt weren’t up to the team’s demanding standards, to the point that Andrew was certain that he wasn’t the only one looking forward to the next time the asshole left for a Wildcats’ game.

As expected, Nathaniel dragged Andrew off to a table in the far corner of the dining hall after practice; no one paid any attention to him eating with his soulmate and Jean anymore, while Ben was fine having his meals with Leif and Toby (who actually said more than two words at a time to him). Jean sat with his back to the other Ravens, which helped to block any curious gazes, while Nathaniel glared as he jabbed a chopstick at the grilled tofu lying on top of his bowl of seasoned rice. “Laying it on a bit thick earlier, weren’t you?” He pitched his voice low so it wouldn’t carry very far. “Honeybun?” There was enough malice in the ‘nickname’ to choke a horse (too bad it didn’t choke Andrew and give him an excuse to skip dinner).

Andrew grunted as he contemplated flinging his own piece of tofu as far across the dining hall as possible. “Oh, did you and Valjean want to be beaten for pissing off Riko today?” It was a bit of a low blow to drag Jean into things, but the best way to prove his point.

Nathaniel appeared guilty while Jean gave him a warning look for such dirty tactics, which Andrew ignored. “He’s being a real asshole to Kevin lately for no reason.”

Other than being a jealous, insecure prick, but what else was new? “Kevin’s a big boy, let him take care of himself.”

“Kevin can’t fend for himself once off an Exy court or outside a press conference,” Nathaniel muttered, which made Jean chuckle. “But whatever,” he said when Andrew narrowed his eyes. “You done with your homework for the day?”

“Yes, you?”

Nathaniel nodded. “You… uhm, coming back to the room with us?” He kept poking at the disgusting slab of tofu while a hint of blush spread across his sharp cheekbones.

Despite the fact that Andrew basically went to Nathaniel’s room every night after dinner (unless it was a game night), he nodded and forced his attention on his own dinner while Nathaniel murmured ‘good’ and Jean looked as if he was about to get up and leave the table in disgust.

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

Once they reached the relative peace and safety (relative) of Nathaniel’s room, he pulled out the German language books which Nicky had sent Andrew (oh how his cousin had been delighted to know that Nathaniel had wanted to improve upon his slight knowledge of the language) so they could work on it that night; they’d taken to alternating between German and French in the last few weeks. Between Andrew’s eidetic memory and Nathaniel’s almost uncanny ability to learn languages, they were progressing rapidly between the two.

(Andrew wanted to know what the hell his soulmate and Jean were saying all the time – and to be warned by Jean if necessary – and to talk to Nathaniel privately.)

Andrew sat on Nathaniel’s bed, all too aware of how close they were to each other, as they went through the lessons that Nathaniel had worked on earlier that day and his pronunciation (which was damn good). They were in the middle of a short dialogue (asking for directions) when Nathaniel’s phone pinged, which was a rare occasion; almost everyone he knew was in the Nest, and his father certainly didn’t bother to talk to him.

Nathaniel’s brows drew together in a puzzled expression as he looked at his phone; Andrew noticed how Jean paused in reading a book to give his partner a worried glance. “I won’t be able to watch the game on Friday,” Nathaniel announced after texting back a response. “Ichirou wants me in the East Tower to translate.”

Andrew felt a wave of… of something dark and possessive and primordial slam into him as a wide smile spread across his face. “Oh, how wonderful, fun Moriyama time. Will Nathan be there to play as well?” He could easily (oh so easily) remember the bruises which had littered lovely ‘Nat’s’ face after his last father’s visit.

Nathaniel twitched at the response, which earned a muttered curse from Jean. “I… no.” Nathaniel shook his head, which caused the workbook in his lap to slip onto the bed and his dark auburn curls to flash through the air. “He doesn’t… not when Ichirou… no.”

The incoherence was a sign of how upset he was, as was the way his hands twisted in the hem of the overlarge black sweatshirt he wore; aware of how he was the cause of such disturbance, Andrew found himself reaching to thread his fingers through those mussed curls without a thought, to leaning forward until he felt his soulmate’s breath warm against his face, until he could see the flecks of pale grey swirl in those icy blue eyes….

A manic part of him urged him on to kiss his soulmate, to feel something, to take whatever he could – for a moment he almost gave into it, too. Then he noticed the naked emotion on Nathaniel’s face, the odd mix of trust and confusion, and found himself leaning back even as his hand wrapped around his soulmate’s nape.

(NathanielwasapipedreamwasmaybetooperfectforhimbutifhetookhimnowlikeTHISthenhe’ddefinitelyneverknowifadreamcouldbecomereality)

“Be certain,” Andrew said, his voice thick for some reason. “Because I feel that I’m due an introduction with your father for some reason, an introduction where I have a very sharp or heavy object in my hand which I make very familiar with him many, many times.”

His soulmate gazed at him for several seconds as if trying to make sense of the words before he gave up and rested his forehead on Andrew’s shoulder. When Andrew glanced at Jean, the French bastard shook his head. “I’m putting my money on the Butcher, not a runt like you.”

“He’s an old man,” Andrew sneered.

“An old man who’s used to fighting off overreaching fools. Up your game, Minyard.”

Andrew gave him the bird while he combed the fingers of his other hand through Nathaniel’s hair; once he realized what he was doing, he forced his hands away from his soulmate. Nathaniel blinked at the loss of contact then slowly rose from the bed. “Aah, it’s late,” he said as he walked toward the bathroom.

Jean waited until the door closed behind him and there was the sound of water running to lean forward and gaze at Andrew. “He doesn’t say much about what happens up in the Tower, but I know that Ichirou doesn’t let Nathan touch him,” he told Andrew, his deep voice quiet in the small room. “Kengo doesn’t stop the bastard at all, but Ichirou does.”

Andrew thought about that as he gathered up the German language books then placed them on Nathaniel’s desk. “Why?” Why did Ichirou protect Nathaniel?

Jean shook his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t think Nat does, either.”

Yet another question to add to the growing pile of them, but at least Andrew knew that Nathaniel should be safe that Friday. Should. He’d have to wait for a better answer after their game with the University of Vermont’s Catamounts.

(When he was alone, with his soulmate, without any drugs in his system….).

Except things didn’t exactly go that way – Andrew should be used to life fucking up his plans by then. After all but shutting down the goal except for one point during his time out on court, he’d dealt with the usual post-game bullshit, showered, changed and was about to head to Nathaniel’s room (well aware of the clock ticking down on his drug-free moments) when Akagi insisted that he follow the assistant coach to Tetsuji’s office.

He was ready to ignore the man, except Aaron’s name was mentioned.

Well aware that he hadn’t seen his brother in class that morning, Andrew pushed aside the urge to tell the Moriyama lackey to ‘fuck off’ (along with the growing sense of nausea) and tagged along; the rare burst of true anger helped to push back the withdrawal that sunk vicious claws into his nerves until they sizzled with an aching itch that wasn’t quite pain.

Not yet, at least.

Andrew found his twin, bleary-eyed and reeking of alcohol, standing hunched over as to make himself appear even smaller in Tetsuji’s office with some middle-aged man who turned out to be the Dean of Science. He stood there and listened while Tetsuji basically talked the man out of evicting Aaron from Edgar Allan because of the stupid prank he and his ‘friends’ had done due earlier that evening to the stabilizing effect (what a fucking joke) he had on one of the Ravens’ most promising players, and that Tetsuji was certain that he could find something to keep Aaron busy so such an incident wasn’t repeated.

From the look Tetsuji gave Andrew, he knew that such a thing better not happen again, and that he’d be paying for the ‘Master’s’ intervention.

“How could you be so stupid,” he hissed in German while the two men hashed out the details of Aaron’s new ‘work study’ position.

Aaron wavered on his feet while he shook his head. “I didn’t- why the fuck do you care?” he whispered back.

Because the Moriyamas never did anything for free. Because the price better not involve Nathaniel. Because Andrew was always cleaning up for his twin. “You were supposed to stay out of trouble.” Andrew had done what he could to keep track of his brother while on campus, but that task had grown almost impossible between juggling classes, being a Raven, Nathaniel, and Aaron ignoring him the past few weeks. “Not break into-“

“You have everything,” Aaron turned to give him a look that was pure jealousy. “They’re already talking about you making Court, you found your soulmate, what else is there? I’ve got nothing.”

He certainly didn’t have any brains, Andrew thought with growing bitterness. He had a scholarship to pursue his dreams of being a doctor, he had the brother he’d begged for along with the second chance of a future. ‘Nothing’ indeed.

However, it seemed that Tetsuji and the other guy were finished, so away Aaron went, leaving Andrew to find out what he owed for his brother’s latest folly. “I suggest making him clean the bathrooms,” Andrew said as he struggled not to fidget from the growing drug withdrawals.

Tetsuji regarded him in that flat, ‘you are worthless to me’ manner which made him such a cheerful fellow for a few seconds before he leaned back in his big leather chair. “I know about the deal you made with my nephew, both about Nathaniel and being off your medication while on court.” His thick brows drew together very slightly, the only hint of disapproval on his usually mask-like face; if it were during a practice session, Andrew would expect the bastard’s cane to be brought down on him at any moment. “You shouldn’t need any incentive to do your best during a game, but one can be… irrational in regards to their soulmate.”

One could also be irrational as fuck in regards to their psychotic nephew, but Andrew (for once) kept his mouth shut, considering what had happened in the past few minutes, and considering the reference to Nathaniel.

(Oh, was it difficult, though.)

Tetsuji nodded once, as if pleased by his silence. “Your performance on court is exemplary and has helped the team to have one of their best seasons in years. Upon comparing it to how you play during scrimmages, I believe you were correct when you told Riko that you play best when off your medication. That’s why I’ve had Dr. Gale submit a recommendation that you’ve improved enough in the last few months and no longer need it.”

That… was not what Andrew had expected to hear. “He can do that?” He was supposed to have weekly sessions with the psychiatrist, per the whole court sentencing thing, but one of the very few good things about having signed with the Ravens was, due to the hectic practice schedule, after attending a couple of them, the weekly visits had just… stopped. Dr. Gale would swing by the court once a week to technically ‘see’ Andrew, but that was that, and nothing else was said about the matter.

“He already has; along with the recommendations from your professors and me, it’s expected to be approved.” Tetsuji gave him an intent look. “You’ll be checked in to a local rehabilitation center over the winter break and return in time for the spring semester to play unmedicated.”

On one hand, Andrew felt an odd fluttering in his chest at the thought of being off the damn medication early, in no longer having to take it (in being done with it earlier than expected after he’d found Nathaniel). On the other hand, he was being told to do something, and while he wasn’t the twin studying medicine, he could do a quick bit of math and realized that winter break didn’t give him a lot of time to come off an additive drug.

(But Aaron had done it, so why couldn’t he?)

His innate nature to do the opposite of what he’d been told struggled with the fact that this was what not only he owed to keep Aaron at Edgar Allan but was what he wanted as well; after several seconds, he gave the ‘Master’ a curt nod.

Tetsuji nodded once in return. “Prepare accordingly,” was all he said before he motioned for Andrew to leave.

Andrew didn’t waste any time doing just that.

Nathaniel appeared anxious when he reached his soulmate’s room but didn’t ask any questions. He took one look at Andrew and got out of the way as Andrew went straight to the bathroom so he could take the damn medication (only for a little longer) and get ready for bed. When Andrew came out several minutes later, it was to find that Nathaniel had switched out the sheets for him on Jean’s bed.

“Uhm, everything okay?” Nathaniel asked, his expression uncertain.

Andrew took a moment to check that his soulmate was unharmed (at least physically), that the only bruises on him were a couple fading ones from practice earlier in the week. “Long day.” He was too tired right then to talk about Aaron, Ichirou and winter break, too… it was too much. It would wait until morning.

Yet all Nathaniel did was give him a slight, earnest smile and went to fetch something from his desk. “Okay. Ah, here.” He handed over a small bundle wrapped in a black cloth napkin, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “There were snacks and since it was Ichirou… I was able to bring something back I thought you might like. Good night.” That done, he hurried over to his bed.

Andrew stared after him for moment before he unwrapped the napkin to reveal a large chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting drizzled with caramel, topped with a chocolate raven. Despite the slight upheaval to his stomach from before and the fact that he’d just brushed his teeth, Andrew felt his mouth begin to salivate and sat down on the bed so he could spread the napkin over his lap.

The cupcake was delicious, was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks, was a chocolate overload that made him want to groan in delight. Once he was done licking the last trace of buttercream from his fingers, he glanced over at his soulmate, who was pretending to be asleep. “Thanks, sweetpea. Next time, grab at least two.”

Nathaniel made an adorable growling sound before he spoke. “Sure, the more poison, the better,” he grumbled before he jerked the bedding higher up his narrow shoulders.

Andrew began to count the days left until winter break as he crawled beneath blankets.

*******

Excited for what happens in the next few parts. I always knew how this was going to end, but had a flash of actual dialogue the other night and... YES.

[petulant-poet]

Tell me about ur ocs

Okay okay I have been WAITING for someone to ask me this. I hope you’re ready for an onslaught anon!

okay so since you didn’t ask for a specific set or certain oc, imma tell you about my main oc’s, the prime 16!

the prime 16 are a class of super-powered individuals living in a post-apocalypse, and under the gaze of the institute they live in. that is, until they run away and make lives of their own! Their main goal is to regroup in Boston, but many decide to take the scenic route around the broken country. Here they are, from oldest to youngest and in order of class:

Class Alpha: the first class to emerge, they are the strongest and most skilled with their abilities. They’ve been in the clutches of the institute longer than any of the others, and their need for escape lets them find freedom.

1: Marlon, the soul scholar. He is the oldest and was the one to devise the escape plan in the first place. He escaped and went straight to Boston, using his power of elemental construction to research into soul power, making him a useful asset to anyone. However, his need for knowledge doesn’t stop there. He goes searching and looking where no one has or should, and finds himself deep into something he never should have disturbed.

2: Charlie, the shadow spy. She is the second-in-command to Marlon, but prefers to stay out of the limelight. She finds herself in the holographic city of Chicago, and finds that the best places for her are in the dark corners of the streets. She uses her ability intuition to become a valuable spy and mercenary, able to take out or find anything she is hired to find. She finds though that the shadows she saw as her ally can hold more secrets than she could ever want to know.

3: Colby, the glam American. Colby is a lot more easygoing than most of the others in his class, and is able to mutate his genes however he likes. He uses this skill to join a rock band and become a roving sensation across the ruined country. He finds that not everyone just wants to listen though, and that there will be people who may just want to use him for themselves.

4: Lydia, the lucky bullet. She’s the most energetic of class Alpha and has herself a cartoon physiology, making life around her a living cartoon. She moves off to the west to become a famed cowboy, and is beloved by the people around her. However, all cartoons have their run, and Lydia is terrified of when she will run out of luck.

Class Beta: the second best, the afterthought, whatever you call them, class Beta has heard it before. They have powers that are less useful in battle and more with other people, or in life. They are constantly played as Alpha’s little siblings (which they are) to an insane degree, leading them to often resent or idolize the higher class.

5: Kit, the lonesome nomad. He was one of the kids headed for Boston, until a tragic accident landed him on the road. His only goal is to try and make it to Boston with his brothers and sisters in one piece, and he will betray and manipulate anyone with his empath abilities to get there. He is cold and untrusting, but soon finds that self-isolation is an even colder fate.

6: Georgina, the traveling psychic. She has the power of divination, and can see the future. But it’s not the most reliable very often, only showing flashes and bits of voices. However, she manages to use her powers to go from some local psychic of a small town to a traveling performer, telling peoples’ futures far and wide.

7: Samuel, the bloodthirsty knight. He is the second most resentful of class Alpha, mostly stemming from his own inferiority complex from his power, action link. Meaning he can’t be a powerhouse on his own. However, when he escapes, he is let out into a war zone. He works his way up and becomes a soldier, soon earning his title through the bloodshed at one of his most famed battles. But his winning streak can only last so long, and he’ll have to find that out the hard way.

8: Sarah, the starry oceanographer. She is the most resentful of class Alpha, and ironically the first to reach Boston. She becomes an acclaimed sailor with her navigational intuition, and with her help ships stop disappearing into the shifting oceans forever. However, she soon finds out the hard way that there are depths too deep for even her to reach.

Class Gamma: the less put-together class, they escaped at a younger age and have less of a kinship with each other. The only thing that unites them in the slightest is their common childhood trauma.

9: Jordan, the reaper’s seeker. He is young and impressionable, but his path was set for him the moment the accidentally used his power, intuitive aptitude, to find a hidden tumor in his adoptive mother. From there he is seen as an omen of evil to many, but is used as a tool to find the issues in many for others. He wants it to end so badly, but in what way is up to him.

10: Robin, the false herald. Robin finds herself sent to a religious academy for her safekeeping, but in the process uses her power of possession to accidentally call down their god through her. She is revered as a saint and is given special treatment, but due to her identity as the herald, she never gets to find an identity of her own, which is what she wants more than anything.

11: Archie, the human pandemic. Archie’s goal was to try and reunite with his family, but the moment he first contracted the first viruses, he knew that would be impossible. He has the power of invincibility, meaning that the viruses in his body won’t hurt him, but they will hurt anyone else who comes in contact with him. He now wanders the woods alone, hoping that someone will come along and help him. But in the meantime, he has friendship with the other things living on him.

12: Adrianna, the nether queen. After separation from the rest of the prime 16, she finds herself running from raiders and police, until she comes across the entrance to an underground realm full of people that soon forcibly crowns her as queen of the underground after she kills the last one on arrival. However, Adrianna wants nothing to do with the affairs of the underground and longs for escape, and with her indomitable will, she’ll make sure of it.

Class Delta: the youngest of the prime 16, they have little to no memory of the institute. Because of this, they have no practice with their powers and have had their fates completely thrown to the wind, making them the hardest to find of the group.

13: Archie, the calamity child. He has lived his life jumping from one adoptive family to another, and tragedy seems to follow him no matter where he goes. From hurricanes to tornadoes and flash floods, Archie has always been the only one to remain with his botanical abomination power. He has ended up getting bad rep, with people blaming his power for his bad luck. He ends up becoming disconnected from other kids and mistrustful of adults, but just wants a family of his own.

14: Maya, the gateway girl. She was raised in the complexes of downtown New York, and with her friends is constantly braving the dangers of the uptown ruins. Maya’s own power, domain, is only known between her and her own friends. Not even her ‘parents’ know about it. However, she’s forced to face herself and confront her past when she finds how similar her power is to to the monsters living uptown, and finds some shocking truths.

15: Xavier, the griefer king. He was found by the real king as a baby, and after finding out about his power, animalistic abomination, he wholeheartedly adopts the boy as his own. Xavier is raised among the other griefers as one of them, but is abruptly put in charge when the king must go on a journey to expand west. He becomes a ruthless leaver, unafraid to go to violent measures, and finds himself reveling in the hunting of unknowing travelers on the highway. But Xavier soon needs to find the balance of human and animal, lest he finds himself going off the deep end.

16: Adeline, the sacrifice. The youngest and rumored to be the most powerful, Adeline lived her life peacefully without her power ever awakening. However, the truth came to her abruptly and soon uprooted her whole life, and was told that she must become a vessel to save the world. In the stress of everything moving and her whole life crumbling in front of her though, her power awakens, and everyone finds what makes her the most powerful of them all…

and that is the prime 16! Hope you like them, and don’t be afraid to send questions if you want!

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Fight Of Our Lives (one-shot)

Summary: Thanos might have succeeded, and not only erased half the universe, but hope in general. But humans are stubborn little bitches. And so are the Avengers. No matter if dead or not, the fight of their lives is coming and nothing will stop them from righting the wrong. (AKA this is me trying to cope with Endgame.) 

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!Reader 

but is very much so Avengers x f!Reader; Platonic!Steve x f!Reader; Dad!Tony x f!Reader; Platonic!Loki x f!Reader as well

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, swearing, injuries

Word count: 10074 (THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN, HOLY SHIT!!! STRAP IN< GUYS)

       When the snap happened, everyone was in a state of shock. Even Thanos himself didn’t necessarily understand he had succeeded, glazed eyes watching the gauntlet and his surroundings. Only when Thor backed away did he realize his goal was accomplished, so he used the Space Stone to disappear in an instant.        Y/N’s head turned to the side, eyes on Steve clutching his abdomen and looking at Thor with inexplicable fear. “Where’d he go? Thor… where’d he go?        “Steve?” Bucky’s voice cut through the buzzing in her head, but maybe she shouldn’t have glanced at the other super soldier. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned to ash and been swept away by the winds.       People all around her either felt their hearts drop to the soles of their feet or their bodies disintegrated, and when numbness spread through Y/N’s toes, she knew what was going to happen.        “Steve.” His attention was immediately on her.        “Oh, no, not you too,” the Captain was already rushing to her side, but his hands wrapped around a non-existent middle.        “Tell my dad, I’m sorry.”        Steve was left with nothing but an empty feeling in his stomach and an even emptier field. “Oh, God.”        They had lost.

***

       Steve had always been a good leader. He was Captain America, the man with the plan, always ready to jump into action and give out orders while following his own like the good soldier he was, but for the first time since he could remember himself, he didn’t know what to do. The reflection staring back at him as the remnants of his beard were washed away down the drain was unfamiliar.        This was a man completely lost, let alone out of his time. What was worse, he didn’t know where Tony was. If he was alive. The thought gnawed at him, eating at his brain day and night for almost a month now.        He sighed deeply, letting the air enter his lungs, holding it for a second before exhaling. With a clank against the sink, he let the razor fall out of his hands. Taking the towel that was on the counter, he observed his own features in the mirror.    Steve was more than a hundred years old, yet he looked barely thirty, and despite how tired he was, mentally and physically, his counterpart looked ready to fight, if not for the exhausted look in his eyes… the eyes that were shaking.        Steve’s brow furrowed when he saw the smaller mirror to his left start moving as well. A hand went to steady it, but then his razor rattled and fell into the sink, as the whole building started to tremble.        Nat, Rhodey and Pepper were already rushing outside when he joined the three. What he saw in the courtyard made his knees almost buckle from relief. He didn’t care about the strange glowing woman that placed a space ship on the grass, he didn’t care about Rocket moving forward with them. All he cared about was getting to the two people stepping down from the stairs.        When Steve’s arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, he could feel just how much skinnier the genius was, how malnourished and dehydrated he must be, but all that was a secondary thought to the one blaring in his mind – Tony was alive and on Earth.        “I couldn’t stop him,” were his first words to Steve, voice laced with pain and guilt.        Steve’s eyes dropped to the ground before flitting back up. He realized what he would have to inform him of, and he wished Thanos’s snap had also taken him. “Neither could I.”        “I-“ Tony started, unable to find the words before gulping and getting them out, solidifying them as truth. “I lost the kid.”        Fuck.        “Tony, we lost.”        We lost so much…        “Is umm,” he struggled for a second, not wanting to ask, terrified of the answer, but he didn’t even have to. Pepper was right there pulling him in her embrace, a choked back ‘oh my God’ escaping her before both hid their faces in the crook of their loved one’s neck.        “It’s okay,” Tony muttered, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her collarbone. If only for a second, it was okay.        He slowly limped back inside the compound, heavily resting against Pepper and Steve for support.        Everything was pretty much the same way he’d left it in Rohdey’s care as he and Pep had gone to New York on a business trip before the whole Thanos showdown happened. Apart from the giant hologram pulling up each and every face of the people that had been dusted or were unaccounted for. With every word that Nat explained what was happening Tony felt more and more hollow. Until Peter’s face went up in the air. That took the last breath out of Iron man.        “Where is he now?” he asked, rubbing at his goatee referring to Thanos, “where?”        “We don’t know,” came Steve’s solemn response.        “He just,” Rhodey shook his head, “opened a portal and walked through.”        It was a lot to process. The same way he had disappeared from Titan with the Time Stone on the gauntlet was the same way he’d vanished from Earth after completing his insane task. As he looked behind him to where Thor was sulking, it turned out the god had had a chance at taking Thanos out. But revenge came with a cost.        When Steve said Tony had fought the Mad Titan it seemed like the most ridiculous thing ever.        “Who told you that? I didn’t fight him,” Tony pointed at himself. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the Stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight.”        The cruellest thing was that they’d almost had the glove, but in the blink of an eye, it was lost once more. All that effort, and here they were – broken and beaten to a pulp.        But Steve didn’t seem to give up. “Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”        Even in Tony’s nightmares, it was never this bad. He surveyed the room, the people he used to call family now with gaps in it, his new acquired Blue Meanie friend and the stranger that had saved them from aimlessly floating through space, but then it hit him.        “Where’s Y/N?”        Nobody dared to meet his gaze, but when Pepper squeezed his hand tighter, he didn’t need words to confirm his worst fear.        “Rogers,” he seethed, “where is my daughter?”        Steve’s chest rattled as he exhaled. “Tony, I’m sorry.” Unshed tears glistened in the Captain’s eyes. He was ready for an outburst, for him to stand up and pummel him to the ground, but he didn’t. Instead, Tony just turned his head to the side, looking into Pepper’s eyes where tears had been streaking down her cheeks ever since he’d returned. He clenched his jaw and nodded.        “The one thing I asked of you after you broke the Avengers apart was to look out for her. Look out for my daughter, keep her safe, do not bring her into this mess,” Tony was fuming and with good reason. “It was a simple thing, Rogers,” he sneered, “so no, I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no plan, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust,” Steve could feel each word cut through him like a knife, but the last word sliced his heart completely in half, “Liar.”        Then Tony did something no one expected. “Here, take this,” he ripped off his arc reactor and slammed it in Steve’s hand. “You find him,” he pointed at the blond, “and you put that on. You hide.”        He was just about to start apologizing when Tony’s legs suddenly gave out from underneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor.        “I’m fine,” the genius waved everyone off like usual, “I’m…” but he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was enveloped by darkness.        Everyone was already up and acting, Bruce setting up a makeshift hospital room, Steve taking Tony in his arms and rushing him to the bed, Pepper following everyone behind, so there was not even a second more she’d be separated from Tony. Never again.        It took everyone a couple of minutes to regroup but Rhodey finally came to inform them of Tony's status. “Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s gonna be out for the rest of the day.”    The Avengers nodded in relief. It was a small victory to have him back. It was something. So often they were used to loses and casualties, but this time, it was already way too much, and one more would just break whatever was left to break.        Rhodey dragged a hand down his face as the holographic monitor showing who was missing flashed, and Y/N’s face now stared back at him.        “God, fucking damn it,” he muttered, wiping tears away. His best friend’s kid. His goddaughter. His family.        When she had strolled in the compound walking in front of Steve and the rest of ‘Rogue Avengers’, he was ready to clock her in the jaw, knowing she would never back out of a fight. Too much of her father’s genes were in her.        “You know he’s going to kill me,” he groaned as Y/N smirked before pulling him in a tight hug.        “Not if you don’t say anything,” she mumbled in his chest.        All guilt aside, Y/N had been most likely their best chance at winning, excluding Wanda. She was probably the strongest Avenger in the group. Rhodey remembered with fear the time Tony had been kidnapped, and how ballistic the seven-year-old girl had gone seeing the ransom video the terrorists had sent.        She wasn’t supposed to know, but Y/N was a master at sneaking around the house, and as Pepper and Rhodey watched, she had caught a glimpse of her father. Let’s just say the whole of California experienced some strong seismic activity as her powers rippled out of her.        God, and the other one? Peter? He was gone as well. In a way there was a silver lining to it all – both of the teenagers being gone meant neither could do impulsive and rash decisions. After all, the two were in love, and Rhodey was one hundred percent sure they’d go to the ends of Earth and bring down the sky if it meant getting the other one back.        “You guys take care of him,” Carol’s voice brought everyone back to the present. It seemed like Y/N’s face on the screen had shaken them all up. “And I’ll bring Xorrian Elixir when I come back.”        “Where are you going?” she couldn’t be leaving them now. Not at a moment like this.        “To kill Thanos.”        People were up and rushing after the woman in a split second.            Nat was the first one to reach her, a strong grip on Carol’s bicep pulling her back to face them. “You know, we usually work as a team around here, and between you and I, we’re also a little fragile.” That was an understatement, but the fight was not over. Not for them. “We realize this is more your territory, but this is our fight too.”        On the outside, Natasha was acting like a leader, similarly as she always did by either Tony’s or Steve’s side, but on the inside, she was that broken little girl thrown into a single bedroom with a bare mattress and pillow, told she’d become the nation’s greatest weapon at the tender age of six.        Build-A-Bear was the first one to ask the real questions. “Do you even know where he is?”        Carol shrugged. “I know people who might.”        “Don’t bother,” Nebula interrupted. The whole time apart from when Tony was rushed to the hospital room, she’d stood to the side and watched. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”        The hologram was up and running again, only this time displaying the map of the universe provided by the ship log from the Milano.        “Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. Then when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him,” there was such venom in her tone towards her past-self, even Rocket flinched. “I’d ask “where would we go once his plan was complete?” His answer was always the same: to the Garden.”

***

       The next thing Y/N knew was jovial cheering, loud laughing and warm golden lights encasing her instead of the burning plains of Wakanda.        “S-Steve?” she muttered turning around, surveying the grand ceiling and golden ornaments of the walls. “Nat?”        A large mass bumped against her back, and Y/N stumbled out of the way to let a burly looking man trudge past. “ ‘M Lady, my apologies,” he slurred, bowing a bit and then continuing on his merry way.        That’s when everything came rushing back – the fight against the Outriders, and how she took down Proxima Midnight with Wanda, the subsequent arrival of Thanos, and the snap.        “He did it,” Y/N whispered to no one but herself. “He actually did it.”        Instantly her head was high and searching the crowd which seemed to be dressed in some sort of medieval clothing, but that didn’t mean anything to her.        “Dad!” she bellowed as much as she could. “Peter!”        Please not them, please not them, please not them, Y/N chanted in her head as she squeezed between the crowd of people. From the corner of her eye, she saw an archway, beautiful green wines wrapped around the intricate marble, and that’s where she ran to – away from the people in what seemed like a garden outside, and into the building.        She was hit by a wave of warmth and even louder chatter than before. Almost never-ending rows of tables lined the inside of the hall and benches full of people she didn’t recognize. Nothing was familiar to her apart from a certain raven-haired man sitting at the very far end of the room, a beautiful woman with hair of gold right next to him.        “You!” Y/N shouted pointing at Loki. “You! I know you! Loki!”        But he didn’t hear it over how loud everyone was being, so in a true Stark fashion, she jumped on one of the tables, drawing all the attention to herself and thundered a ‘Yo, Reindeer Games!’        For a moment there, the god of mischief was stunned and left speechless. He was never speechless, but when the daughter of Tony Stark calls your name, it might have that kind of effect. As it did on the rest of the people.        Instantly he jumped over the table and ran to where Y/N was standing on the counter.        “How are you here?” he was completely breathless. The last time they’d met, he was not the Loki everyone knew now, but he’d never had any particular distaste towards the younger Stark. In fact, he’d kind of admired how the teenager was actually a useful addition during the battle of New York.        “First of all, where is here?” she motioned around the room, finally stepping off the table and out of someone’s plate. “Sorry,” she muttered to the man, but he only shrugged.      “Second of all, what’s going on? And third of all, where is my dad?”        “You’re in Valhalla.”        “Val-what now?”        “Valhalla. It’s where the fallen warriors of Asgard get to rest once their battle is done.”        “But,” she stuttered blinking rapidly as if that would wash away the scene before her eyes, “but I’m not of Asgard. I’m plain human. Midgardian. Earthling. You know, an ant to your… boot.”        Loki was just about to answer, he himself unable to understand how Y/N was in Valhalla when basically the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen in her life approached the two. The same one that had been sitting to Loki's left.        “We’ve been waiting for your arrival, Lady Stark.”        “What now?” the question was softer than the flap of a butterfly’s wings, but the goddess, who as far as Y/N could recall her basic Norse mythology knowledge, was Frigga, had already turned to face her son.       “My love,” she smiled placing her hand on his cheek, and Loki practically melted in his mother’s touch. “You did a brave thing. You’ve always been brave and good, despite what has happened. But it’s time to be brave and good one more time.”        “Thanos won,” Y/N exasperated eyes flipping between the goddess and her son. “There is no fight. He snapped his fingers and did what he said he would.”        “Sweet child, I was raised by witches,” Frigga smiled softly at the girl. Usually, she’d sneer towards anyone that regarded her in such a way, but there was nothing condescending in her tone. “I see more than what meets the eye. It has been five years, and a battle is brewing. Your family will need each and everyone ready to help.”        “Five what now?” Y/N breathed out. “But I’ve been here barely a few minutes.”        “Time moves differently here,” Frigga placed a soothing palm on her cheek. “A decade on Earth is simply an intake of breath here. But there is no more time to lose.”        Loki’s green eyes widened as his eyebrows furrowed. “Mother, am I thinking right that you’re implying we should join the fight?”        “You were always the quick one when things needed to be figured out.”        “But… no one has ever returned from Valhalla. No one has ever come back from the… dead.”        “That’s because up until now, she,” Frigga gave Y/N a pointed look, “was on Earth.”        “Me? What the fuck does this have to do with me?” Sure, had the circumstances been different she’d be horrified by the language she’d used in front of an Asgardian royal, let alone a goddess, but frankly, Y/N was just about done with mystical mumbo jumbo and just wanted to get back home where she could watch cheesy B-rate horror movies with her dad while cuddling up next to Peter.        “No one can enter the halls of Valhalla apart from Asgardians.”        Y/N was pointing at Loki in no time. “He’s not one.”        “He was raised as one.”        “Well but I wasn’t. Human as a human can be,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips.        “But you have Asgardian blood in you.”        That made Y/N pause. There really was no other explanation as to how she could be in Valhalla. Sure, there was that time when aliens had kidnapped her from her own backyard after the whole Ultron thing went down, and she was rolling with the Guardians for a brief second before demanding to be put back on Earth cause that’s where her home was, but even her space travels were a sounder explanation as to everything going on rather than her being part of the race from Norse mythology.        “You never mentioned it,” Loki glanced at Y/N whose eye roll was the best she’d ever given to anyone.        “Because not knowing who my biological mother is, was the first thing, I wanted to talk about with the dude trying to invade Earth. Besides, Thor was of Asgard, and you continuously stabbed him. I kinda think it was in my favour not to, despite not even knowing it.”        Loki’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, but Y/N could see how he was trying to hold off a smile. “Well, maybe you’re half-Asgardian, but without a doubt, you’re a Stark.”        “You say I’m the key to getting us out of here,” Y/N was starting to get impatient. “How?”        “Your powers are deeply connected to your emotions as they are to the universe and every element swirling around us.”        Tentatively Y/N nodded, and Frigga whispered for her to close her eyes.     “Concentrate on your heart, your soul. Each stone represents a part of the universe. Let your powers go, let them roam the realms until they grasp at the source that calls for them.”        It sounded absolutely bonkers as the goddess coached Y/N on what to do, but she imagined her abilities like silvery tentacles that had a string wrapped around her heart, but the others were left free to slither their way through the galaxies and dimensions until the pull suddenly stopped, and she had a clear anchor to something.        “My Queen,” a woman with long onyx hair approached the trio. She was wearing a light grey uniform and a blue cape adorned her back, a glimmering silver sword hung by her side. “We heard what has happened, and who has come to pillage the universe. The Valkyries, if you’d allow it, would be more than honoured to fight beside our Prince and everyone else defending the world.”        Frigga just inclined her head, quickly glancing at Odin who up until that point had been sitting in his chair.        “You need to figure this out quicker,” Y/N groaned, stumbling a bit, but Loki was there to catch her. “I’m not gonna be able to keep at it for much longer.”        And then it was like a second breath had been given her. She felt her blood thrum with power as Odin, the Allfather, used every bit of Dark Magic he could summon and directed it towards Y/N.        Inch by inch Y/N grabbed onto the thread and pulled herself towards where the stones were calling. It took all of her concentration and attention to do so, but with every passing moment, she could feel them closer.        With a final tug at the tether, she extended her arms to her sides and opened up a portal, eyes glowing pure white, and teeth bared to the world. Like a lioness ready to attack, Y/N stepped out onto a battlefield.        But they weren’t alone. All around them she saw glowing orange circles where tens of thousands of warriors emerged. And it wasn’t just humans. She saw Skrulls, who she’d met while with the Guardians, the Asgardians that had been brought to Earth by Thor, and so many other creatures with different shapes and forms ready to fight Thanos. He hadn’t just angered Earth. He’d angered the whole fucking universe.        “Avengers!” Steve roared a hand extended forward, and Mjolnir flew right into his open palm.        I fucking knew it, Y/N smirked.        “Assemble.”        It took everything in her to keep that portal open. Not only that, as a scream tore her throat apart much like she was doing with time and space, Y/N put her whole being in it and expanded the gateway, the Valkyries rushing out in a majestic formation.        Thor’s scream of joy was something like an adrenaline rush, giving her more motivation.        “Just so you know,” Loki said unsheathing his dagger and letting his seidr envelop his left arm, “this boot," he motioned towards himself, "has no quarrel with this ant," he pointed at her.        “Good,” Y/N gritted, closing off the portal once she knew everyone was out. For a split second when she turned to look behind her, she saw Frigga’s smiling face. Whatever happened, she’d be there to welcome her warriors home. “But this ant,” Y/N motioned at herself with her thumb, “has a major quarrel… with that ugly ass boot.”        “Seems like a whole universe of ants does.”        That was enough of a signal for her to join the battle. Lifting herself off the ground, she rushed up to meet a Leviathan before taking it down like it was nothing. Bits of Odin’s magic were still there, and she was not about to waste them.        But no matter how many troops she took down, more seemed to take their place. It was like Thanos had a never-ending supply of them.        “Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” Y/N heard Clint as he sprinted by her, and she lifted up a horde of oncoming aliens freeing his path.        “Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve’s voice was loud and clear in the comms, giving everyone the non-verbal order – protect whoever is carrying the gauntlet, and don’t let Thanos get to them.    “No!” Bruce, who Y/N only just now noticed was a morph of the Hulk and Bruce, countered back. “We need to get them back where they came from.”        “No way to get them back,” Clint grunted as he evaded a few aliens and resumed his mad dash. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.”        “Hold on!” a voice Y/N hadn’t heard in a while invaded the system, and she had to grin. She’d always liked Giant Man. “That wasn’t our only time machine.”        An obnoxiously loud car horn beeped across the battlefield, making everyone’s heads whip to the side as Steve rushed up a hillside.        “Anyone see an ugly brown van up there?”        “Yes,” exclaimed Brunhilde from high up above leading the storm of Valkyries against the Leviathans, “but you’re not gonna like where it’s parked.”        “Cap!” Y/N got his attention, taking everyone’s, who hadn’t seen her arrival, breath away. Including Steve’s. “Get that thing started, we’ll hold them back,” she motioned with her chin towards Loki, whose seidr glowed a brighter jade just at her words.        “Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?”        “Maybe ten minutes,” came his rushed reply, as he heaved a few breaths in a moment of pause.        “Get it started. We’ll get the stones to you.”        When Frigga had said a battle was brewing, Y/N did not expect it to take the violent form of hot potato, but as Clint, and then T’Challa approached the van, her powers slowly depleted.        A moment of carelessness, and she was thrown away by the huge paw of a beast. It was just about to stamp on her when the bright beam of a repulsor created a hole in its chest. Y/N barely got time to roll out of the way of the corpse, before it thudded like a sack of bricks.        “Dad?” the word cracked in the middle, but Tony couldn’t move, as his daughter, the one he lost half a decade ago, was finally in front of him. After years of hopelessness, that was only regained a bit when Morgan was born, his family was finally whole again.        “Baby girl?”        That’s when Y/N threw all caution to the wind. She didn’t care about the battle, the screams and roars; all that mattered were her father’s arms tightly woven around her body, keeping her close to his chest – safe and sound in his embrace.        “I’m so sorry, dad,” she wailed in his arms. “I’m so sorry I put you through that.”        But Tony just shook his head, pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re here... right here, and that’s what’s important.”        Both of them nodded in unison, either at Tony’s words or just to reassure them the other was real. It was a tiny moment of peace before the sound of someone loudly yelling ‘Oh My God!’ brought them back to the fight.        “Where’s the gauntlet?”        “Last I heard Peter had it.”        “Peter?” his name was a breathless whisper of hope. He was there. They both were.        Tony nodded, gripping her bicep a bit tighter before letting go. “Keep him safe.”        And with that both Starks separated destroying Thanos’s army bit by bit while desperately trying to find where the stones were.        She was in the middle of battling against Ebony Maw, her powers ripping his heart apart from the inside out when the scarlet swirls of Wanda’s magic got her attention.        “Rain fire!” Thanos grunted, and instantly Y/N whipped her head around where Wanda was pulling the Titan apart atom by atom.        There was some sort of an answer that came from a troop she couldn’t hear, but when Thanos exclaimed ‘Just do it!’ she knew shit was about to get even more real than it already was.        From high up above, Thanos’s ships aimed their blasters towards the ground and unleashed hell upon Earth. Wanda was thrown back, and that made her release the hold she had on the madman. Without a second to spare, the wizards created shields with their powers but people who were not under their protection were still getting obliterated until Y/N extended both palms upward and imagined a layer that separated her from the beams.        Taking a deep breath, she felt sweat trickle down her forehead, and then she lifted the layer. Slowly but surely, she lifted it higher and higher, a shout of strain enveloping her in the process as she reversed the blasts and made them fly back to the ship. But that didn’t stop the oncoming array of attacks.        Y/N didn’t have unlimited power. Opening the portal from Valhalla had taken out most of it, and holding off another assault didn’t seem that likely. As she stared at the guns above, the girl readied herself to take the onslaught when they suddenly turned to the sky and started firing there.        No one could see anything through the plumes of smoke and ash apart from a quickly approaching ball of light, that in a matter of seconds shot through Thanos’s ship, rendering it useless, and making it crash in the nearby lake.        “Y-Y/N?”        Her heart had never stuttered so much as it did when Y/N heard that voice. She was frozen in place, unable to move or even blink. Her hands trembled in fear. Maybe this wasn’t real, maybe he wasn’t there in front of her, and all of that was something her mind was making up because Peter wasn’t actually back, but when she turned around she saw him holding onto the gauntlet as if it was his last lifeline hiding in the dirt behind a broken cement block.        “You’re bleeding,” was her first remark as she looked him over head to toe. His lip was split, and there was a gash on his forehead, but other than that and probably some major bruising underneath the suit, he looked fine. Well, at least he was in one piece.        A sob like chuckle escaped the brown-eyed boy, and she didn’t even get a second to brace herself before his arms were wrapped around her, and pulling her in his body.        “We should’ve stayed on the bus,” he cried, but a smile played on his face.        “Tell me about it,” her chest quivered as did her lips before she smoothed back his hair. “Dad’s so pissed about it.”        “More pissed than when he walked in on us making out the first time?”        “Yeah,” Y/N let out a genuine laugh, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “I think so.”        “Yes,” Tony’s voice invaded their moment as it cut through the comms. “I most definitely am, but we need to get the stones to the van before nut sack over there gets to them, so you might want to leave it for later.”        “You got something for me?” Carol motioned with her eyebrow at Peter, eyes flipping to the gauntlet. Safely, Y/N took it out from his grasp and handed it to the woman.        “I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that,” his eyes roamed the oncoming army, a hand instinctively going to wrap around Y/N’s waist. He’d let go of her once before, he was not going to make that same mistake ever again.        “Don’t worry,” Wanda floated from above and settled herself behind Carol, eyes blazing red.        “She’s got help,” and the sight behind and in front of the two teenagers was the most marvellous one they’d ever seen and would ever see. Each and every heroine stood against Thanos’s army while the Valkyries made up the back, their winged mares neighing, swords high up in the air as a battle cry ripped through their throats.        “I uh got this chemistry test coming up. By any chance, anyone of you could help me with that?”        “Seriously?” Y/N snorted looking at her boyfriend. “We were dead just a few minutes ago and are fighting the biggest army in the universe. And you’re thinking about chemistry?”        “I just… I’d rather focus on anything but what’s in front of us.”        “We can think about chem and calculus and English after all this is done, I promise,” and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was able to kiss Peter again. If it hadn’t been for the impending oncoming of the enemy, she’d sag into his hold and never let him go.        “But first – we beat the shit out of them. And that one’s mine,” Y/N sneered looking directly into the eyes of Proxima Midnight. She had been the one that had almost killed Nat and Wanda in front of her eyes. It was payback. If only for the fact that Nat was not there. She didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that her redheaded assassin wouldn’t show up. Everything had a price, and so did the fight for survival, but they’d be damned if they didn’t make her proud.        It was a terrifyingly glorious sight to see as the women stood between Thanos and the gauntlet; it was clutched safely in Carol’s arms as she flew through the enemy using her photon blasts to disintegrate them. Though not everything could go as smoothly as it had been.        Right as Scott powered up the time machine in the back of the van, Carol aiming straight for the dead centre of it, in one last attempt, Thanos threw his double-edged sword, and everyone was knocked back with the explosion, Carol’s grip loosening and letting go of the stones.        That’s when complete panic ensued. They couldn’t go through this again. He’d made it clear - this time it would be personal, and not half the universe but the whole fucking thing would be wiped out.        One by one the closest people to the gauntlet rushed to grab it, but even through that, Thanos was able to put it on. He would’ve snapped his fingers if not for Carol grabbing onto his palm and bending his fingers backwards with her bare hands, pure rage lighting up her eyes. Y/N scrambled towards them ready to knock Thanos down when she saw him remove the Power stone, blast Carol away from it. Then her father charged at the Titan.        A desperate grab at his hand, Tony’s horrified face, a punch to his side and shake, and Thanos was free as Y/N’s dad laid on the ground, struggling to get up. At that moment she didn’t even care for the stones, as she witnessed her father in pain. But then she caught the glimpse of a green glimmer.        “I am…” Thanos smirked putting his middle finger against his thumb, “inevitable.”        But when he clinked nothing happened. Just as Y/N expected.        “And I…” she ran towards her dad, “am,” one more step, one more step, “Iron Man.”    Dad’s so gonna kill me was the last thing Y/N thought before he snapped his fingers, and she grabbed onto his shoulder letting the power of the Infinity Stones course through her body alleviating the strain on Tony.        She’d never felt this kind of pain and euphoria at the same time. Y/N was invincible, unstoppable, a goddess in her own right but at the same time, her heart was just about to give out when she saw the enemy horde, one by one and then at a more rapid pace succumb to the same fate she had five years ago.        With a gasp she found herself approaching the edge of not coming back when someone called her and Tony’s names.        “Friday,” Pepper’s voice sounded like a dimming filter had been placed over it with a tinge of a beeping noise added to it. “Release the right arm.”        On command, Tony’s suit detached from the whole, and the part with the stones dropped to the ground, making Y/N’s hold let go as well.        The two Stark’s crumpled to the ground, panting and trying to get as much oxygen in their lungs as possible, as they crawled a bit to the side where they could lean against the remains of the compound.        “You are so grounded, you hear me?” Tony rasped bringing his daughter close to him, and holding Y/N’s head tightly against his chest. “Forever. You’re never leaving the house or ever thinking about it.”        “So that means we can watch movies all day every day for the rest of our lives?”        “If that means you staying safe, I’ll chain us to the movie room.”        And in the midst of all that rubble and sweat and blood, Y/N and Tony finally pulled in breaths of relief.        “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh, remember that time when aliens sorta kinda kidnapped me?”        “How can I forget the worst moments of my life… up until that point.”        “Well, I and the Guardians did that. It worked then, so I assumed it would work again.”        A beat passed with Tony’s face completely expressionless before engulfing Y/N in an even tighter hug. “I’ll kill Peter, I swear I’ll kill that braindead-knockoff-Kevin Bacon.”        “Not before I kill you both,” Pepper’s arms were instantly around her family as if she was shielding them from the rest of the world. “God, I hate being a Stark.”        They released a collective chuckle and tightened their hold on one another. “Also, that time when those aliens kidnapped me?”        “Yeah?” Tony sniffled.        “Turns out that's not really true. I uh can teleport."    "You what?"    Y/N rolled her eyes. "My powers come from somewhere, and it turns out you hooked up with an Asgardian. I now remember that night we had a huge fight, and I wished I’d be with mom instead of you... I guess they decided to show up then cause the next thing I knew, I was shooting through this weird rainbow beam, and ended up crashing on a weird spaceship. Thought I'd been abducted when instead, I had just run away from home.”        Surprisingly enough, both Pepper and her dad laughed. “Really Tony?” the redhead asked him. “So human women weren’t’ enough, had to go for the extraterrestrial ones as well?”        “What can I say,” he let her wipe away a tear that slid down his face before resting his head against Y/N’s. “I have impeccable taste. Just look at who I married.”        “Y-You got married?” she was stunned beyond belief. That’s when it truly kicked in that it had been five years. Five years they’d lived without her, and had created a life she didn’t know anymore where she fit in.        “Yeah,” Tony nodded, squeezing Y/N’s hand in reassurance. “You uh you also have a little sister.”        Wave after wave after wave of emotions rampaged her body and mind. First, it was hurt they’d do that, that they’d try and move and replace her, then it was confusion as to what was her part in this whole equation now, and then it was relief and joy. She still had her family, and no matter what had happened, Y/N was happy they’d tried to make some sort of a life even after Thanos. It had been the exact thing they’d fought for.        “Guess I can officially call you mom then, huh?” she looked at Pepper through a teary gaze. The feeling when she wrapped her arms around her was nothing short of coming home.        “You’ve always been my daughter,” she whispered in Y/N’s hair. “Always.”        “I love you 3000,” Y/N whispered back.        That set her off into an absolute fit of giggles, as she shook her head, and brought her in for another embrace. “This time, you’re in the low six to nine hundreds, Tony.”        “What?” Y/N asked, looking at her dad, confusion written all over her features.        He just shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

***

       It took them all a couple of days to regroup and rearrange, but once that was done, once the tearful reunions and greetings were over, it was time for true celebration. Though, if someone had told Y/N that the same Loki that had stabbed his brother right in front of her eyes on the balcony of Stark Tower was the same one that practically sprinted towards Thor to embrace him, she’d tell them to fuck off.        Now they were all dressed in whatever best attire they could find, with smiles on their lips as they watched Pepper and Tony renew their wows. Y/N who had met Morgan less than forty-eight hours previously, stood tall and proud to their right as Rhodey helped her father stand up from his wheelchair and give Pepper a kiss.        “Come on,” Y/N whispered to Morgan, who was still unsure about the older sibling she’d met. Of course, not a day had gone by where either her dad or mom talked about her sister, but it was another thing to meet the girl. “I think Happy and Rhodes said they’re making burgers.”        Together they walked behind their parents, and no one could wipe off the smiles off their faces. Even Hank Pym was there, and it was a known fact that he and the Starks had never gotten along.        “Pete?” Y/N turned to her boyfriend, who instantly joined her other side, “will you take Morgan inside? I just need to quickly talk to Steve.”        “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he nodded, and couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks as she pecked his lips.        As fast as she could she ran towards where they’d made a miniature of the time travel machine with the intention of Steve bringing the stones back to their correct place in time.       “I’m coming with you,” Y/N announced pulling on the bracelet on her palm that she'd hidden in the pocket of her pants, and stepping onto the platform. “And you won’t stop me.”        “Y/N, I don’t think your dad would agree to this,” Bruce remarked, his hand, much like her father’s in a sling, though where Bruce only had that and burns that would forever scar his right side, the prognosis for Tony to ever walk again on his own were slim. But that had never stopped a Stark.        “Of course, not,” she snorted tapping the device twice and letting the time travel suit encase her body. “Why do you think I ran? So he wouldn’t know about i-“ but it was just her luck as the man of the hour himself appeared out from behind the woods.        “Hey, hey, whoa, where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Tony exclaimed his wheelchair rolling towards the launchpad faster than Y/N thought was possible especially on the forest floor. “You are grounded!”       “Oh, come on, dad!”        “No,” he was surprisingly stern about this. “You zip it right now. I don’t wanna hear about it. Step off that thing right now, and get that piece of crap off of you,” he motioned towards the time travel suit and the bracelet.        “Please, dad, just… just trust me on this one. I’ll be back in a second. I just… I just wanna say goodbye to Nat. She’s the reason all of us are back here...”        With a sigh of defeat, because even a Stark couldn’t talk a Stark out of anything, Tony retreated. Y/N quickly skipped down the platform to give her father’s cheek a kiss, before joining Steve.        “Protect her. Whatever comes her way,” Tony said looking straight into Steve’s soul. This time he wouldn’t let his friend down.        “With everything I have.”        “Ok, you, dramatic gramps, let’s cut the cheesiness. Bruce?” Y/N grinned at the scientist.        “Ready to jump in three…” he started the countdown, “two…”    “See you in a minute,” Y/N winked and was gone.

***

       Putting the stones back was a whirlwind, and it made Y/N feel like a badass spy that had to infiltrate a base and then disappear unnoticed. She never really joined in on stealth missions, as that was not her forte, but fuck was it fun. Especially when Steve told her how he had to fight his old self on the first time around.        “I never knew how ridiculous that line was,” he chuckled, as they stepped onto Rocket’s ship, that he’d leant to them to get to Asgard, Morag and Vormir.        “I find it quite endearing. At least nowadays,” she nudged his shoulder and settled in one of the free seats as the Milano turned upwards to the sky and thrust them into space.        “Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured looking at her where she was strapped in place. “For everything. I thought I was doing what was right by not signing the Accords, and instead, I ripped our team apart. And with the whole Thanos thing… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…”        That was loaded confession Steve had just put-upon Y/N, and as she was processing it, the overwhelming need to relieve him of the guilt eating away at her brain, a bright green light beeped on the panel, and they were pushed into the atmosphere of Vormir.        Cautiously the two exited and started to track their way to the sole mountain on the whole plane.        “You know, we’ve never been a team,” Y/N said looking up to where the two pillars reached into the sky. “Teammates fight together, follow orders, train together… that has never been us. We bicker, play pranks to the point of it walking the edge of mean, we spend our Friday nights curled up next to one another and throwing popcorn around. That’s not a team. That’s a family.”        “Evenings without you were a bore,” Steve said wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.        She wistfully sighed, skipping ahead before turning around and walking backwards. “I can only imagine. I mean with just birdbrain as the funny one and entertainment – I’m surprised you didn’t grey from the boredom.”        “Who knows, maybe I’ve just been dying my hair the whole time.”        “Oh, I’d like to see that process. You and Bucky sharing hair secrets is something I’d pay for.”        Steve snorted right as they approached what seemed to be carved out steps that lead to the top of the peak. “It’s actually Wakandan shea butter.”        “Seriously?” Y/N’s eyebrows were so far up her forehead, they merged with the creases there.        “Leaves everything smooth and silky.”        “When we get back,” she pointed at the Captain, “you’re gonna hook me up with your supplier.        “Gladly…” a small pause settled before he spoke up again. “So, why did you wanna tag along? Really?” Steve’s voice was raised so he could talk over the howling winds.       “Something uh someone said to me, made me think a bit. I dunno what’s gonna happen, but I wanna know if my hunch is right.”        But Steve didn’t get her to elaborate on what the fuck that meant when a floating cloak appeared before them. Y/N’s eyes were instantly white, and Steve had unsheathed the shield they’d gotten while back in the 70s.        “Steve, son of Sarah, Y/N daughter of Anthony,” an accented voice spoke to them. Y/N glanced at her companion from the side of her eye, only to see his mouth open in complete disbelief. “It has been a long time, Captain.”        “Son of a bitch, you’re still alive.”        “Indeed. As you know, I too once sought to acquire the stones, but alas, it was not what fate had intended.”        The way Steve was clenching his jaw made Y/N fear for his teeth. “And what was fate’s intention?”        “I am here, to be a guide to you, and all who seek the Soul stone.”        “Then lead the way,” Y/N murmured.        And without any struggle, Red Skull did as told.        “In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love,” the figure announced as Y/N made her way to where the cliff ended. “An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul… but you are not here to retrieve the stone, are you?”        “Nope, not one bit,” she said retreating and letting Steve open the case, Y/N’s gloved hands wrapping around the tiny glowing piece. With every step she took, she started to rethink her decision, but she’d come all this way just for this, she was putting her dad through more stress than necessary just for this.        Y/N was right on the edge, making Steve more nervous than ever. They’d come so far, with such high costs, he couldn’t lose her too. He wouldn’t recover, and he knew neither would Tony or the rest.        She turned around her, hair whipping at her face as she looked at Red Skull. “You said soul for a soul, right?”       “That is exact, my child.”       The winds were harsh at the top of the mountain, and the snow was not fluttery or light as it usually was during wintertime in New York. These were harsh icicles pelleting her skin.        “Y/N?” Steve cautiously asked, slowly approaching the woman, but she didn’t hear or see him. For a moment, her grip on the stone was so tight her knuckles turned translucent, and then she let go.        The stone glimmered like amber as it dropped down, down, down. When it touched the ground, the two beams that created the archway started glowing before bright light shot up into the sky, and Y/N had to shield her eyes from its intensity.        In that blink of an eye, she was transported away from the mountain and somewhere down below where they’d started their ascend. Her hands trembled as she opened them to see that the stone was no longer there.        And she was completely alone, as a matter of fact.        “No,” she looked at the expanse of water, as the light of the whole planet had dimmed leaving her alone and drenched in darkness. “No, no, no, no, no!” Y/N smashed her hands against the surface of it, anger coursing through her veins before a soft hand appeared on her shoulder.        “Baby Stark, you miss me?”       There, with that crooked smile of hers stood Natasha. Her hair was back to the red tone, blonde only covering the tips of the long tresses, but there she was – wearing that same ugly red and white suit as her and Steve.        “No,” Y/N sniffled scrambling up from the water and into her open arms. “Not one bit, you, self-sacrificial idiot.”       “That’s more of a Stark thing, isn’t it?” her whimpers could be heard all across the quiet planet, but that didn’t matter, given how both of the girls were crying.        “Yes, well, it shows you’ve spent time with my dad and Steve.”        The happiness pressing on the two was borderline suffocating. It was only when Natasha pulled back, bringing Y/N’s face between her palms.        “I’m so sor-“ but the girl was quick to shake her head.        “None of that matters,” she gripped the redhead’s forearms. “None of it. We won, and we’re back and we’re going home.”        The smile on the assassin’s face was the most dazzling thing Y/N had ever seen, and her breath would’ve been taken away if not for the screams of her Captain.        “Y/N!” Steve hollered as he dashed towards where he’d seen her laying in the pond, after having been knocked out by whatever the mountain did, but his panic evaporated when he saw who she was embracing.        “Nat?”        He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was there and just as tangible as his own skin and bones.        “Hey there, you, old fossil.”        He was still a few yards away, but he crossed that distance in no time, and before she could pull in a breath, Nat was up in his arms, both of their bodies shaking with tears of joy and laughter.        “You ever pull a stunt like this again, Romanoff, I swear I’ll make Fury put you on desk duty.”        “After all this, that sounds like a dream.”        “Be careful what you wish for,” Y/N piped up from the sides, grinning as she recalibrated her bracelet and moved towards the ship. “You might just get that.”        “Home?” her eyebrow raised in a sleek arch, as the other two Avengers ran up next to her and synched up.        “Home,” Nat whispered before being dragged down to the quantum realm.        The blink of an eye and the three of them stood back on the platform in the middle of the little forested area. Their suits retreated, and the trio’s beaming grins could’ve overpowered the brightly shining sun up above.        “Tasha?”        Nat’s head whipped to the side, seeing a completely stunned Clint, but she didn’t give her best friend a chance to regroup as she leapt off the podium and had her legs and arms wrapped around his middle and neck.        “Ten bucks on Clint trying to kill Nat for what she did,” Y/N muttered, leaning to the side as Steve, and she removed the bracelets, giving them back to a very much so confused Bruce, but not that confused Tony and Loki who had joined their little gang.        “That’s why you went back? To get Nat?” her dad asked, and Y/N shrugged. “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh I didn’t. But it was something his mom said,” she replied motioning at Loki. “She said about my powers and them being connected to the stones as the stones being connected to the universe. And that my powers are connected to my soul.”        Tony smirked, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it. “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?”        A soft fluttery feeling erupted in her stomach. “Also, the words ‘soul for a soul’ was a pretty big give away, but that I found out only when I got there.”        As Pepper rushed out of the house, ready to kill her daughter for going back in time and her husband for allowing it, Bucky had slowly moved to stand next to his best friend.        “What happened to that ‘Happily Ever After’ you always dreamed about?”    He expected Steve to be upset about being back, blame Y/N for somehow coercing him to return, given how the two super soldiers had had a talk about him living out his life with Peggy. But instead, the blond was gnawing on his lip trying to keep a smile at bay.        “I think I just might have that right here,” he finally breathed out. “I uh I had my dance, but… I knew she’d be happy with or without me.”        “You sayin’ we wouldn’t be able to live without your old ass?” Sam smirked as he approached the pair, and it made Bucky snort.        “Obviously. But uh…” and that’s when he finally averted his attention to the thing strapped on his back. “I actually came to give you this.”        It was one thing to fight aliens, it was another to accept what Steve was offering.        “I can’t do that,” Sam shook his head looking at Bucky for support, but the man just stepped back and raised his hands in a ‘don’t involve me into this’ motion.        “Yeah, but I think you can,” Steve smiled at Sam. “Come on. Try it.”        Tentatively, as if it was made of glass, not vibranium, Sam, strapped his arm through the leathers and put the shield in front of him.        “How does it feel?” Steve asked, eyes surveying his friend from the side.        “Like someone else’s.”        “But it isn’t,” Steve shrugged, patting Sam’s back before the soldier pulled him in a hug.        “I’ll do my best.”        “And that’s why it’s yours.”        As they pulled back neither was ashamed of the tears that rolled down their cheeks. “And what will you do?” Sam sniffled holding onto the shield. “Join Bingo club?”        Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing at Sam’s arm and making him stumble. “Actually, something I should’ve done a while back.”        Both of his friend’s faces were the epitome of confusion as Steve marched away from them with sure steps, but that all changed when he called Nat’s name making her spin away from Clint and Wanda, and directly into his arms. A split second, and Steve’s lips were on her.        The cheering and whooping were just as intense as when Tony and Pepper renewed their vows by the lake. The only thing that made the two pull back was the desperate need for air, but even as they did so, their foreheads remained together.    "Where did that come from, Cap?"    "I've wasted too much time on dreams and 'what ifs'. It's time I act on them."    The pair grinned from ear to ear before a giant shadow loomed over them, and that truly made the pair pull away.        “I hope you’re okay with this,” Steve mumbled looking up at Bruce. No matter what and no matter for how long, he and Nat had had a thing, and the ex-Captain could never live with himself knowing Bruce was unhappy, but by the gentle smile on the professor’s face, he knew there was no animosity towards what was happening.        “Steve, I tried to bring Nat back because we’re family, not because of a kiss we shared. Besides,” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “I met someone along the way.”        Nat’s scarlet eyebrows shot to the middle of her forehead. There went the best spy in the world award. “Why didn’t you tell us?”        “Because we didn’t wanna label anything, especially with how the world was, but uh… I think we might give this a serious shot.”        “Who’s the lucky girl?” Nat’s signature smirk adorned her lips, and in all her life she would’ve never bet on the fact that the Hulk would ever blush.        “It’s uh it’s actually Betty… Ross.”        “Thunderbolt’s daughter?” the day had been full of surprises but even that beat everything in Clint’s book.        “Well we had kinda something going on before Hulk was even around, and we just reconnected after the snap… so trust me, I have nothing against you two going at it.”

***

       She could hear the laughter of everyone as Bruce told Steve and Nat to not create some sort of weird super soldier spy babies. The two of them were already a handful, and Y/N smiled at the sentiment.        “You okay?” Peter whispered into Y/N’s neck. It felt wrong to speak above that level, the scenery was way too calm for that. Even the waves across the lake were muted.        “For the first time in almost eighteen years, I can say, I am,” she gave him a tight smile, holding the glass case of where her dad’s first arc reactor was displayed. “He’s giving it up. The superhero life. For good now.”        Peter’s lips quirked up. “How do you know? This is your dad we’re talking about.”        “Yeah, but I think mom would actually commit murder if he even thought of being Iron Man…” Y/N looked over the lake.    It was bittersweet to know how much her family’s life had changed in those five years she was gone. She had a little sister now, Pep and Tony lived here in the countryside, and now he was passing up the mantle of Iron Man.    “I know he’ll always be there when we need him, when the real shit’s going down, but I’m happy about him not doing it anymore. He deserves a quiet life with mom and Morgan.”        “And you?” Peter observed how his girlfriend chewed on the bottom of her lip before releasing it once his thumb went to pull it out from between her teeth. “You deserve that as well with your family.”        “And we’ll have that,” Y/N intertwined her fingers with Peters, and pressed a kiss to them, “but first, we’ll protect the Earth. I think that’s why he gave this to me. Sort of a symbol of – now it’s your turn.”        Peter’s brows furrowed. “Your turn?”            “You’re looking at the one and only Iron Maiden.”        “Like the band?” he smirked.        “Or like the torture weapon. We’ll see what happens.”        He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he kissed Y/N’s exposed shoulder, but their moment was disrupted when someone lightly tapped against her back.        “Dad said to come and get you,” Morgan nervously rolled back and forth on her feet. “We’re making cheeseburgers and having juice pops after that.”        “Really?” Y/N smirked taking Morgan’s extended palm and standing up, the arc reactor securely held in her other hand, and Peter’s hand on the small of her back. “Sounds like the perfect combo.”

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A/N: I’ve been working on this the whole day, but I apologise if there are any grammar errors. Some of the dialogue taken from the actual movie script.

P.S. feedback is always appreciated

P.S.S. my tags are always open :)

[mel-the-fangirl]

Race (Part 2)

Sam Holland x Reader, Harry Holland x Reader

Words: 2,206

Sooo, I wrote the first part years ago, it was requested by @/voidxkenobi (I’m not sure if you’re still active around here or if you’re still into the Holland boys but wherever you are and whatever you’re interested in now, I hope you’re happy and healthy. Thank you for the idea.)

This next part was requested by anonymous years ago as well. Forgive me, anon!

I started writing it as a whole but it was getting too long, so I decided to split it into four to five(?) parts.

You can read part 1 here.

I’m really nervous about this one since the first part was so long ago. But I hope you all enjoy it. Please leave a like, a comment, a reblog, if you fancy it.

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

There really was nothing like a leisurely bike ride on a sunny afternoon.

The breeze soothingly caressed through your hair, you would close your eyes once and awhile just to revel in the sensation. 

You basked in the gentle sunlight, the warmth of it painting your cheeks in a soft peachy glow.

It was the perfect day, almost as if all the cosmic powers of the universe conspired just for this one day, this one chunk of the afternoon, and boy, were you grateful.

And how could you forget the cherry on top?

The soft breeze carried the sound all around you, echoing and ricocheting off the sun-soaked walls. The sweet, dulcet tones of your friends, Sam and Harry, yelling bloody murder, cursing under their breath, and hurling threats at you.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you boosted yourself on Sam’s bike (which you stole with zero hesitation, by the way), willing yourself to go even faster.

No way in hell were you going to let them catch up with you.

Were they insane? Asking you to… go on dates with them?

Just the thought of it made you all jumpy inside. You three had been friends even before the awkward puberty phases then through the acne, the braces, and through many, many questionable hairstyle choices, they both lived through that. So the fact that they were both pining for your affection was beyond you. 

Your hair whipped behind you in almost violent streaks. You were beginning to forget the point of this whole race since they would no doubt corner you at your house anyway.

Am I supposed to hide? Where in the hell would I even hide?

As you began to think about your next move, you were starting to lose focus on the road and were slowing down. The twins noticed this and decided to use it to their advantage.

Sure, they were competing against each other for the whole thing but there wasn't going to be a thing if you weren’t going to say yes. And to get you to say yes, they were going to have to catch you first.

They shared a look, twin telepathy at work, and gave each other a discreet nod.

You pedalled on, unassuming, somewhat lost in your thoughts.

Did you have feelings for any of them?

You weren’t going to fool yourself, you’d have to be both blind and an idiot not to have noticed how handsome they’ve both gotten through the years.

Maybe you would blush when one of them stared at you too long, maybe the way they would bend over backwards just to make you laugh made your heart melt into lousy puddle, and maybe you would obsess over it for hours when one of them gave you a peck on the cheek before going back home for the day. 

Maybe that’s all happened more than once. Way more than once, if you were being brutally honest.

But so, what? Did that even mean anything?

“No.” you scoffed, picking up speed once again. 

It didn’t mean anything, it shouldn’t mean anything. Dating was complicated, friendship was easy, that’s that. You ignored the way your heart was starting to pump faster, and it wasn’t from all the pedalling.

I do not have feelings for Sam and Harry. I don’t! Who even said I did, definitely not me. I didn’t say that.  It’s hilarious how platonic I feel about them. Hilarious! A real laugh riot!

It was starting to get really obvious how you were drowning yourself in denial and how close you were to becoming a teensy bit unhinged. If there really was nothing there then what harm could one date do? If everything was totally platonic like you said, then why were you panicking?

You weren’t panicking! Panicking? You? Why, you were cool as a cucumber!

“I’m cool as a cucumber!” you stated loudly, causing a passing dog walker to actively increase the distance between you

“Cool as a cucumber.” you quietly muttered to yourself, mind racing

The gears in your head began to turn as quickly as the gears on Sam’s bike. You had it. You finally knew what you were going to do and it all started with what they wanted you to do in the first place.

Let them have their dates with you! Let them have their fun! But at the crucial moment, you’d let them down easy, tell them that all you three would ever be was mates and this whole circus will be forgotten.

Genius.

Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to see what they were like on a date. Just because you were curious. Not for any other reason. 

You snickered to yourself, clearly losing yourself in the overwhelming waves of denial. When you finally managed to snap yourself out of it, you noticed the absence of Sam and Harry’s heavy footfalls behind you.

“That’s weird.” you mumbled, trying your best to look around for them without getting into an accident

“Well, hello there, Y/N.” Harry materialised in front of you almost from thin air, startling you

You braked just in time, Sam’s bike teetered forward dangerously, threatening to throw you head first onto the pavement. You scrunched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for impact.

“Whoa, Y/N!”

Two sets of arms reached out to catch you, grabbing hold of the handlebars before you could fall.

“Y/N, are you alright? I told him not to startle you but what do you expect?” Sam held your hand to steady you, letting his eyes scan for any injuries 

Harry took a step closer to you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He kept his eyes on the ground, not daring to look at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Really. I hope you aren’t hurt.” he apologised, oozing with sincerity

You looked at each of their guilt-ridden and concerned faces, feeling your heart skip like a fucking preschooler hopped up on sugar. You were seriously beginning to wonder if you even needed a heart.

“Listen, Y/N, about that thing we cornered you about earlier-” Sam tried his best to maintain eye contact with you but he was getting so red that you could barely make out his freckles

“I’ll do it.” you cut him off, taking pity on him and at the same time setting your plan in motion

Harry put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, gently shoving him out of the way, mouth and eyes wide open, “What did you just say?”

Sam brushed Harry’s hand off his shoulder and gave him a slightly less than gentle shove out of the way, “Did you just...?”

The expression on their faces was something you couldn’t put a price on, it gave you the push you needed to keep any (which there were none) bubbling feelings for them far from the surface. 

That is until they started jumping around, patting themselves on the back. 

A memory from not too long ago flashed before your eyes. The three of you jumping just like they were right then, the twins muddy and sweaty with you in a pristine Sunday dress, their football team had just won the game, with the twins working together to score the winning goal. They ran straight to you and you ran to meet them, you ignored the mud on their uniforms and the disapproving look from your parents and engulfed them in a hug, giddy and overjoyed.

You felt your heart soften, watching them as happy as you were that day, all because they were going to take you on a date. In your mind, you were nowhere near as exciting as scoring a winning goal.

"Well done! We're taking Y/N on a date!" they cheered loudly, attracting a few stares from passersby

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep it down, will you?" you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up 

They skipped over to you, arm in arm, and pulled you in a big old hug.

"Okay, okay! You two just… You'd better show me a good time."

"Y/N, when have we ever not shown you a good time?" Harry asked, looking at you quizzically

You untangled yourself from them, regaining some composure and started counting off on your fingers, "Well, there was that one time when we were playing hide and seek as kids and Sam, you told me to hide in a bush that turned out to be poison ivy-" 

"For the hundredth time, I didn't know, it was poison ivy!" Sam interjected

"-and there was that time where both of you took turns spinning me around during prom and I ended up puking on my dress and on your shoes, Harry."

"I didn't mind." he huffed, crossing his arms against his chest

"Well, I did," you placed a hand on your chest for emphasis, “And it was really embarrassing.” you shuddered

The twins put an arm around each other’s shoulders, a united front against your attempt to harm their respectable reputation.

“You’re making it sound like we didn’t shield you from everyone all the way to the ladies’ room.” Harry reminded you

“Yeah, and we snuck all the way to the hotel supply closet for stain remover.” Sam added

They both looked at you with wounded puppy dog eyes, chipping away at your barely existing defenses. You threw your arms up in defeat.

“Alright, fine! Whatever! Can you please just take me home now? You two are exhausting.”

“But you looooove us.” Harry singsonged

You groaned loudly, placing your fists to your eyes as they laughed at you.

After that though, the walk home was surprisingly quiet. You were grateful for it but you couldn't help but wonder what was going on in their heads this time.

Finally, you arrived home. The twins waved goodbye, promising that you would hear from them tomorrow. As ominous as it sounded for you, you couldn't find the strength to worry about it.

You shut the door to your bedroom, turned off all the lights, and burrowed yourself into your blankets. It was time for a very long sleep. 

--In the Holland household--

As soon as the front door shut, Harry and Sam squared off against each other, united front long forgotten.

"So-" Harry began but Sam cut him off before he could get any words out

"I'm not telling you what I’m doing for the date." Sam strode away without another word

Harry stood there in stunned silence, mouth hanging open. He scoffed in disbelief, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms tightly at his chest.

How in the hell did Sam know he was going to ask? Did Sam think he was going to copy off of him? Yeah, right. As if Harry needed help planning a date. He had lots of great date ideas! He just… didn’t have anyone he could do them with.

He brushed that slightly sad thought off with a quick shake of his head and he set out through the house to find Sam. There was no way he wasn’t getting anything out of him.

“Ah, there he is! My favourite brother!” Harry found Sam at the piano, a detail he found mildly odd since Sam was focusing more on cooking these days

Sam rolled his eyes at Harry’s endearment and turned to face him.

“I am not telling you a single thing about my date with Y/N.” he deadpanned, getting up to leave again

Harry raised both arms, blocking his twin’s escape. When Sam tried to get around him, he stomped his foot on the floor just like he did when he was having tantrums as a child.

A concerned look crossed Sam’s face but nonetheless he relented, crossing his arms and looking at Harry expectantly, ready to get this over with.

“I’ll tell you my idea if you tell me yours.” Harry huffed, eyes pleading with his twin

Their eyes met in a deadlock. Some sort of silent conversation passed between them before Sam finally spoke.

“Let’s hear yours first then.”

Harry dropped his arms in relief and sat down on the couch. He sat up with his shoulders back, head held high, the picture of confidence.

“You ready for this?” he looked to Sam who just raised his brows up in reply

He leaned forward as if he was about to reveal nuclear launch codes, “Puttshack.” he said

“Puttshack.” Sam echoed, nodding his head, lips pressed into a thin line, careful not to give anything away 

“Putt. Shack.” Harry echoed back, thoroughly pleased with himself

“I’ve gotta say, bro. I wish you were taking me instead.” Sam smiled

The twins shared a laugh. Harry was basically glowing with pleasure, forgetting why he revealed his plans to Sam in the first place. Sam didn’t forget though.

“Good one, mate. That place is top notch, I wish I thought of that.” he shook his head, watching as Harry preened at the compliments

“Alright, mate. I’m going to head on to Tom’s, said he needed help with something. But smashing idea, really.” Sam took off, racing to the front door and sprinting the short distance to Tom’s house before Harry noticed

“It is a fucking good idea, isn’t-Fuck! SAM! YOU FUCKING PRICK!”

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

Hope you liked this part! You’re going on a date in the next one, stay tuned!

Part 3

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader Remember part 10

Kirishima was one of the students who didn’t have much of a relationship built with Y/n, but he knew she had a lot going on. He also wanted to know why she bugged Bakugo so much. 

“So your father called you? Are you guys close?” Kiri asked. 

“Not really, I bet you he just found out that I wasn’t home.” Y/n told him. 

“Wait why would it take this long?”

“Campaign stuff has him traveling all the time.” Y/n said. “He’s got an image to keep.”

“Oh that’s gotta suck. Are you nervous?”

“No, he’s more chill than my mom. When I was in the hospital after Aizawa messed my shoulder up, she didn’t even go in to see me. I had no idea she was dealing with my case until he told me.” Y/n explained. 

“What! That’s insane!” Kirishima couldn’t believe it. “You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be here do you?”

“Do you? I think it’s all conditional, like till something big happens. Like I mess up or the case reopens”

“I hope nothing else bad happens, we already had that attack on the USJ.”

“You guys didn’t catch the main guy though, you think they’ll give up?” Y/b asked

“Well we’ve been preparing if he doesn’t!” Kirishima told her before she got to the front office. 

Y/n was hesitant to pick up the phone. Her and her father had to of known the call would be recorded, but what was off limits. Everything she knew was isolated, she didn’t know what information was completely public. Her dad has to know why she was here? He does have the number.

“Hi dad! You miss me?” She asked cheerfully.

“Y/n, it’s so good to hear your voice. I got home yesterday and noticed you weren’t there. I thought you were out with friends, but you never answered your phone. I was so worried. You mother filled me in.” He told her. 

“Are you upset?” She asked.

“No, no. I figured each of my kids would have a scandal  at some point.” He joked. “I could yell at you to be more careful or to stop what you’re doing, but I figured out heroes are doing that already.”

“Is mom in denial about it?”

“You’re a good kid, worrying about your parents, but we’ll be okay. I still have to tell your siblings. They’re all over the board.”

“They won’t care too much I bet. I don’t think we’re gonna watch fireworks this year.” Y/n said. 

“Ha, Ha, that’s your big concern right now?” 

“Yeah, that’s when you guys let me scream all I want.” She told him. 

“We’ll all watch fireworks again, I promise.”

“Do you think you can tell mom to send me some of her homemade painkillers? I’ve been quirk training.”

 That's when the mood of the call changed.

“Y/n I thought we told you to not use your quirk! You don’t have to listen to every single thing these people tell you! Don’t they see the side effects?”

“I have a bit of a hard time using it, sometimes it just goes off.”

“Y/n you have controlled that before. You just have to try harder to suppress it. What were you doing when we were gone and you were home alone?”

She test drived anything in the house ranging from alcohol, mislabeled medication in the cabinet, to website mixes on things to relieve pain. She thought alcohol could help because all the tv shows had drunk people drunk to “not feel anything.”

“I would try to sleep it off, but I can’t do that here.” She put in a white little lie. 

“Your mother doesn’t make drugs, don’t say such silly things. I called to check on you and you seem fine other than the teachers forcing you to use your quirk.” Was her father’s goodbye.

No “love you”, she didn’t even get to say bye. Y/n walked and saw the secretary perk up to try and pretend they didn’t witness such an awkward phone call. The gloomy cloud formed as the conversation set in. Outside the front office, she felt too far away from her dorm. She wanted to be hidden. 

 What kept her strong for so long was though she knew her parents weren’t perfect, no one was. They loved her though. They just had bad ways of showing it. The worse thing they did to her wasn’t because of a punishment, but to further their dreams and ideals. They were confident they could achieve it through their children and Y/n was their last hope. Her body wasn’t strong enough, though they failed, Y/n did too. They did their best to accommodate Y/n’s life with her body weakening. They tried to redeem themselves, to protect their daughter. 

 Students flood the halls as their classes were done for the day. She was holding the tears back. Her parents were two people who had dreams, who thought they could handle parenting and their goals at the same time, merging them. They could try again if she could manage her quirk. Find a bathroom, no one will be in there. However in the fret of looking for one, her face crashed into someone. She pulled back quickly, before realizing who it was she was already apologizing.

“Sorry….I’m so sorry I’m just-“ her voice shook as she was still looking around. 

“Are you okay?” 

Looking up, it was Shouji. Why did it have to be a class 1-A student? She already knew what her face looked like. She had so many lonely nights that she couldn’t help to look in the mirror and how her face would break into a sob. She was doing her best not to shatter yet, not in front of the school. 

“Yeah, you saw me kick Iida’s ass.” She tried proving her case.

“I thought you said you shouldn’t compare yourself to others.” 

“You got me there!” She fought against the tears harder. If she could smile they wouldn’t leak out. 

“Do you have to go back to the classroom?” He asked her.

Probably. 

“Yeah, I just figured I’d take the long way.”

“How was the phone call with your father?”

Right in the weak spot. He wasn’t playing games. Straight to the point. 

“It was good enough, you know how dads can be.”

“I didn’t think they were all the same.”

“Well he’s a normal guy nothing weird.” She told him trying to walk away. 

“You’re going the wrong way.” He told her. 

Fuck! She was going towards the bathroom. 

“Well have to pee.” She lied. 

 Going into the bathroom she found no one. It was just like when she was in school. No one goes to the bathroom at the end of the day. She took the paper towel and let her eyes tear up and flow out. She held the sobs back. If everyone wanted to be a hero and heard her cry they’d be nosy and want to know what’s wrong. Today she couldn’t rationalize her dad’s words. Maybe he was just trying to protect her, but he didn’t listen. When she went for lunch the quirk activated on her foot pushing her forward down the stairs. She had to use her hands to save herself. It wasn’t shocking to her or the family she had poor control over it, but everyone thought it was easier than it was to constantly hold back. The painkillers lessen the effects of power. Instead of bleeding, sometimes it would bruise. The breathing problems would have blood. The pills would make her more tired, but numb so of the effects. She wanted them if they were gonna make her use her quirk. 

 Looking into the mirror her eyes weren’t ass puffy, and she didn’t look too bad. No tear streaks. Y/n felt good about that at least.

“You never cease to amaze me, body!” She told herself. 

 Y/n opened the door and found Shouji there, waiting. 

“What are you doing!” She yelled at him. 

“I didn’t know if you used your quirk or not, you could have fainted in the bathroom and no one would know.” He told her. 

“What a sweet hero you are. Now I’m fine, so no more worries!” She told him. 

“I don’t know enough about you to trust you won’t faint.”

“Fine, follow me!” She yelled. She really did lose her right to privacy!

He probably used his ear hands to ease drop. He wasn’t saying much as they walked back to the classroom. The silence was the worst. Were dots being connected? Could his ears listen to her thoughts and read her mind?

“I wanna go to the grocery store so bad, I need a self care day after sitting in a classroom all day so damn much. It’s too much of a change being around so many damn people. You might feel the same having so many ears and noses! You probably get overstimulated and stuff!” Y/n rambled, hoping to throw his thoughts somewhere else. 

“Yeah it gets like that.”he said being vague as possible, only furthering her frustrations.

“How are you so chill about it! If I get slightly uncomfortable I make a scene!” Y/n said loudly.

“You tried hiding.”

“That doesn’t count! If I was with my family I’d tell them I threw up somewhere in the house and forgot where!” Y/n said. “This one time when I was like 6 since my parents were gone all the time my older brother got a dog and a cat because they didn’t notice for two years. Once they found out they couldn’t do anything because we had gotten away with it so long and we were hella responsible.” 

 “How was the phone call with your father.” Aizawa asked because they got to the class, hoping he would not have to hear more about Y/n’s secret cat as a child. 

“Oh why tell you! You’ll be listening to it anyway! And look, your gold star student escorted me all the way back here!” She pointed at Shouji. 

“Thank you Shouji.” Aizawa said. “You probably have some studying you want to get to.”

“I’ll get going.” Shouji bowed.

Y/n’s nerves were calming down as she was helping Aizawa with paper work. He had already listened to the phone call. The phone call didn’t have enough evidence that Y/n’s parents have experimented on her, and even if they did it can’t be proven how harsh it was. Testing has happened to save lives. Her family could have lessened her quirk to save her life. Doubt it, but still a possibility.  Aizawa already filled the holes in himself. The isolation tactic was to silence her from reaching out to anyone. 

“If you need something to take care of the pain, I can take you to the pharmacy or a doctor to run some tests.” Aizawa told her.

 Her general provider was a doctor who worked for her mother. The numbers couldn’t have been all real. 

“It’s fine. I’ve managed my quirk this long.”

“Poorly.”

The emotions were boiling over. Everyone has always been so quick to judge, so quick to label. Why was she being singled out? Was it because of her crimes? Everyone breaks the law sometime! Aizawa has probably made a mountain of mistakes surely!

“What do you even know? All you have is a faux file.” She growled. “My parents love me and want what’s best for me. That’s why I’ve been following your stupid rules and not escaping so they don’t have to worry anymore.”

 It was silly when she heard it out loud. Why did she commit crimes in the first place? If she cared about her parent’s concern, why then?

[chocolateslatte]

Chapter 3: Pure Shirbert Fluff

The straw scratched the back of Anne's neck as Gilbert pressed her against the pile of hay conveniently located in the upper, forgotten regions of the Green Gables Barn. The cherry harvest had just begun at the farm this past week and her black haired boy had shown up dutifully in the early morning to ask Marilla what he could do to assist. Anne had been unceremoniously sent to the barn to see whether she could fix the rung that had snapped on one of the older ladders. Having finished their own apple harvest a few weeks ago, Gilbert Blythe found himself with a tad too much time on his hands. Had this been any other summer Anne was sure he would have gladly spent this extra time with his splendid nose buried in his medical textbooks. And so he had swaggered into the barn a few hours later with his sleeves rolled up. Anne was crouched with one foot against the wooden rail as she tried to pull the wooden rung off by throwing her entire weight in the other direction.The ladder was forgotten as she took in how...well... how delicious Gilbert looked with his hair mussed and his tanned forearms which popped against the white of his rolled-up shirt.

 Anne let her eyes lazily look him up and down, because well she could. He had always been undeniably beautiful, but Anne couldn't help but notice how over the last year Gilbert had really filled out, the last vestiges of boyhood fading as his cheekbones became even sharper and his shirt strained against the muscles of his upper arms. How truly roguish he looked, leaning against the barn door with his arms crossed and a suggestive look in his eyes as he smugly enjoyed her taking him in. He tilted his head slightly and winked, almost as a challenge. If one thing defined them as a couple, even before they were a couple was their competitive streak. Anne could do one better. She lowered her eyes to the hay covered barn floor, only to raise them slowly as she looked at him through her eyelashes. For a little extra kick, she bit the corner of her lip slightly. Gilbert froze, he clearly hadn't been expecting that as the smug smile faded from his mouth, only to be replaced by a fiery look in his eyes. That look alone could light infernos. Anne's face heated up to ungodly levels as he stared at her with a certifiably indecent look. She had never thought anybody would look at her with that, let alone Gilbert Blythe. What an odd, wonderful world it was.

And so it had been that look that had caused Gilbert's weight to be pressed against her as her mouth moved feverishly against his in the hay littered corner of the barn's loft. Gilbert groaned and pulled away slightly, closing his eyes as Anne moved up his neck with flaming hot kisses.

"Seriously, what were we doing all those years fighting over spelling Iogorrhea and engagement," he said in a dazed voice as Anne moved her mouth from his neck to his jaw "when there are so many other activities of interest"

Anne laughed as she gasped to catch her breath "from what you've told me, Mr. Blythe, it appears you would most likely have had cardiac arrest had these so-called activities taken place a few years ago."

Gilbert opened his mouth to probably deliver a cheeky remark but before he could, Anne had fisted the top of his shirt and pulled him back down over her. Never to be left behind in any sort of achievement, Gilbert slid his tongue languidly, almost expertly into her mouth as his arm snaked around her waist to press her closer. One of them was going to stop soon, an unmarked line having been toed recently, with both determined to see how far they could get before the other broke away. A battle of the wills, you could say. Anne deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue against his and was quickly rewarded by a groan. Gilbert, however, still didn't pull away much to her surprise. This was turning out to be a very productive and satisfying afternoon for Anne. Gilbert kissed the hollow of her neck softly, almost reverently, eliciting a moan from her as he moved up to nuzzle her earlobe. Anne felt as if her mind was short-circuiting, she couldn't put together a single coherent thought. She gasped as she pulled Gilbert back to her mouth, Anne could feel the corners of his mouth tilting upwards against hers. 

That was until she pulled at his bottom lip with her teeth, wrapping one leg around the bottom of his to press him closer. Gilbert sat up suddenly, tapping out. He sat with his arms draped over his knees, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. Anne was hardly one to comment as she groaned and let her head fall back against the scratchy hay that had slipped inside her dress. She stared at the wooden rafters of the barn waiting for her breathing to level. She sighed dreamily and turned her eyes to Gilbert who was looking at her with what seemed like a fondness that was ever-present within the depths of his dark eyes. Her heart slowed as she held his gaze, her chest filling with soft overflowing warmth. A warmth that was burning at times, but at this moment it threatened to swallow her with its steady calmness and depth.

 Gilbert lay down next to her on his side, his head propped on his arm. He pulled some hay out from what must be her insanely disheveled hair, all the while holding her gaze softly.

"Hey" he whispered, his voice as soft as his gaze.

"Hey" Anne whispered back, reaching up to softly caress the side of his face. Gilbert smiled, looking so at peace as he pulled her hand from his face and held it against his heart. 

"I love you, Anne Shirley. And I will love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, well I'll love you then too" he said with this with so much truth in his voice that Anne almost sobbed. Her eyes teared. She had known love in her life these past few years, more love than she thought one person knew what to do within this lifetime. But her heart was overcome with fear of how desperately she had come to love Gilbert Blythe in such a short time. It wasn't a short time though, this feeling had been growing quietly but strongly in the corners of her heart for many years before it overfilled at the corners and flooded every room of what had once been the guarded Manor of her heart.

 "When I was younger deep down I never thought I could be loved. Don't get me wrong, my imagination filled the gaps of disbelief but that fear always lurked. I know I'm selfish, and I make mistakes all the time. God knows I can stick my foot in my mouth. To have you as my best friend, to have you know every corner of my soul and decide you still want me?" Anne looked into his eyes, overcome with emotion "Gilbert I-"

She thought about how this only happens once in a lifetime, to find somebody that understood the deepest parts of what it is that made you, you. Gilbert hung on to her every word, his eyes dancing with laughter and mischief as he realized that Anne Shirley was at a loss of words. He simply wrapped her in his arms, his chin resting on top of her head. She had told Gilbert things that she had never dared to share with another soul, he had heard these things and wanted to know more. He knew her deepest desires, her oddest fears, her goals achieved, her disappointments unheard. At Queens when something amazing had happened to her, he was the first person she couldn't wait to run home and tell. Gilbert had cried with her, he had laughed with her. There were things that maybe wouldn't mean a lot to many people, like a letter telling her about his new roommate or the song he hummed when he was happy.  

These things she tucked away safe in her heart, determined to cherish them eternally. Things like medical research that had never interested her before became important to her because they were important to him. She let her heart be open, knowing that if it were hurt she may not ever be able to piece herself together in quite the same way. But she also knew this, that he would never do anything to hurt her, just as she couldn't dream of doing so to him. Now she knew: love, it will not betray you, dismay you or enslave you, it will set you free.

 "I..." She tried to continue as she was enveloped with Gilbert's comforting sandalwood and pine smell, determined to have him know exactly what it is she meant.  "I know, I know Anne Shirley Cuthbert. You think my eyes are so dreamy, that it is I who hung the stars in the sky, you swoon at the sight of me"  he said in a playful voice that suggested he was reporting the obvious.

 Anne stood up, brushing the leftover hay from her green dress. She walked to the center of the loft, gathered a pile of hay in her arms and laughed as she unceremoniously dumped it over Gilbert's head. She squealed and ran across the room as Gilbert got up and chased after her tossing bits of hay right back at her. 

Gilbert imitated Mrs. Lynde's voice "Oh our Anne has matured so much since she first came to Green Gables, a proper lady she has been made"

"Bite me, Doctor Blythe" Anne said in a sing-song voice. Gilbert finally caught her around the waist and spun her around like she weighed nothing "I would love to take you up on that". Anne laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as her feet left the ground as he turned them. Love on Island Time

[jesslockwood]

Too Good

Word Count: 1.3k

Character(s): Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, Michelle James

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: my first attempt at angst lol

Summary: Peter Parker comes back from Europe, and Y/n Finally gets the guts to ask him out, at least until Y/n realizes he’s not so single anymore.

A/n: This is for @lovestrucktom​ ‘s and @peeterparkr​ ‘s Rom-Com Writing Challenge! This took me a while to conjure up since I've been so busy but I'm so excited I'm finally done!

Almost everyone you knew had said you were too good for everyone else at your school. Your effortless way of beauty, and the way your smile could light up a room. Of course, you thought it was ridiculous, as you were just like any other person there, just trying to get through school like everyone else, and accomplish your goals. People had even gone as far as saying you were the replacement Liz Allen, but better. 

It especially annoyed you that your friends would judge all of the students, rating them from their cuteness or hotness on the outside rather than what truly mattered in the end. That's why you didn't tell them who you liked because they would say you had a silly crush on a guy that people would say isn’t in your league or even close. 

Your crush, well he was sweet, yet challenged your own smarts, and even had the cutest smile that lit up your own.

He was on a trip currently in Europe. You were super nervous to see that there were elemental monsters causing trouble, but at least spiderman was somehow there. That reassured you for their safety.

Before they came back, you were partnered with Ned Leeds and Peter Parker. It was mostly nerve-wracking because it was the peter who happened to be your crush. You were all working on a science fair project. They were coming back to help you at the start of the next year. You started the project without them. You all were creating a laser that would revolutionize cauterizing wounds on the fly, which would help military personnel, and it worked well so far because it was similar to the power source Tony Stark used. 

The only way you figured it out was because of Peter, and you admired him for it, not only because you had major feelings towards the boy, but because he was extremely smart, it blew your own mind. You had always competed against almost everyone until Peter showed you great minds could combine and create amazing things.

You worked on it day and night, right up until Peter was coming back. You were giddy with excitement, hoping the message you were going to laser onto the sample would begin something between the two of you. 

You were waiting by Peter’s locker for him, sparking a lot of whispering around you, most likely gossip of why you were standing at his locker, waiting.

It didn’t bother you, at least not anymore as you realized laying in your bed thinking before the morning last night, that you liked the boy, and that was okay, and if someone had a problem with it, that was their issue, not yours.

Once you saw Betty and Ned appear around the corner, you waved to your friends. They waved back, walking towards you, and Betty opening her arms, embracing you.

“Hey Y/n!” 

“Hey, Betty! Hi Ned! How was the trip?”

“It was insane! There were these elemental monsters and Mysterio and spider-man-“

“Woah, Betty! Slow down! Are you guys all okay? I saw some things on the news, but I didn’t think you guys were in the middle of it!”

“Were good, thanks to Spider-Man, I still have no idea how he made it all the way to Europe! Maybe-“

“Maybe we should catch up at lunch?” Ned cuts in, as Betty agrees, nodding.

“Yeah, then I can show you all the photos we took! You should really come on next year's trip!”

“I’ll consider it.”

As they walk off, you spot Peter and MJ talking down the hall. Peter spots you and waves, you wave back, before your whole world comes crumbling. As Peter kisses MJ you can't help but freeze up, making it hard for you to breathe.

Your whole fantasy just tumbled down into the sea of reality. You just lost your chance with Peter Parker. Your eyes started to become blurry from the tears forming, which you tried your best to hold back and wipe away.

Peter was ecstatic. He just got a girlfriend, saved the world again and was on an adrenaline high, excited to see his friends, especially Y/n.

He had a crush on you, but now he guessed it didn't matter, as you were way out of his league and would never go for a guy like him, not only that but he now had a girlfriend.

As he went to approach you saying goodbye to MJ, you weren't there at his locker anymore. Like a ghost, you were gone, just like the way his dreams of having Y/n faded.

During most of the day, you avoided him, managing to ask your teachers to let you work on your science project and that you would do the work later that night at home. You worked away for most of the morning until It was your advanced English class, the one you had right before lunch with none other than Peter Parker. Most of your classes were with him anyways, but this was the only class with the Mr.Lee. He was an Old hardass English teacher that was only there because he said: “retirement didn’t suit him”. It was that, and a combination of the regular teacher going on maternity leave.

You knew you couldn’t get out of this one or else he’d set you up with his less than legal to use lie detector machine, to tell him the real reason you wanted out of that class. His whole family were cops, most still working in the force somehow, and he was the only one who chose education. His reasoning was that “to get catch them in their early days was the best way”. You knew you had to face him, and more importantly, Peter.

Peter thought you might have gone home early with the flu or at least something along the lines of that. He hadn’t seen you all day, except with his encounter this morning. All he could do was hope whatever it was, you were okay.

Walking into class felt like a burden, one that was set upon you from your own inflictions. You could feel his heavy gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look, because that would give your whole facade away.

You decided to sit beside your friends that ran the newspaper with you, instead of him.

They didn’t even blink or question why you were sitting with them, they just continued to gossip.

You almost feel the burning stare of him through the back of your head but you didn't dare look back. 

He could have sworn he could feel something was wrong, especially from knowing you for so long.

During the class was torture, when all your mind was on was the one thing you couldn’t have, but as soon as the bell rang you sprinted like you were in a marathon out of there. You could hear your name being called by Peter from down the hall, but you didn’t stop for him. You continued out to the cafeteria quickly grabbing something before finding Betty outside. You realized why, as you promised her to go for lunch at a local sandwich shop with Ned and Peter. Before she could even ask why your exterior of being strong started to crumble.

Tears streaked down your face as you sat down on the bench next to her.

“Y/n, what's wrong?” she asked as she hugged you.

“He- he’s with her. It’s too late. I was too late.”

“Who? Y/n Whoever it is you’re too good for them!”

“If I’m too good for him, then how come I’m not with him?” You say looking down at your shoes as you spot Peter Parker and MJ coming out of the school’s building.

“Oh, Y/n I’m so sorry,” she says as she hugs you tighter “I know this is hard, but nothing worth fighting for is easy. Look at Spider-man! He fought because it was worth it not because it was easy, for everyone in Europe!”

“Maybe I didn’t fight enough when it wasn’t too late,” you say, before getting up to go trash the programmed message.

[pips-fics]

ask: hi, can i request a sick (coughing, stuffy nose, fever[?], etc.) jisung with the other members or 3racha taking care of him? i have a cold right now and i'm trying to find skz sickfics because the fluff (and sometimes slight angst-) is a comfort- lmao

hope your cold is better by now, anon, and that you enjoy the fic!  thank you so much for your ask! :)

——

“i’m dying,” jisung whined, for the hundredth time that day, his voice slightly raspier than normal.  he sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his palm, hoping to earn some sympathy from their youngest member, who was looking at him with something in between exasperation and disgust.  maybe a tiny bit of pity.

someone ruffled jisung’s hair and he looked up to see minho smirking at him.

“you’re not dying,” seungmin said from across the room.  “that would throw off our choreo.”

minho made an amused noise and turned his attention back to jisung.  “if you stopped forgetting steps maybe we could go home.”

jisung reeled back dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he’d been shot and falling to the ground.  minho giggled and jisung heard hyunjin’s peels of laughter coming from somewhere.  jisung stared at the ceiling.  it was a joke, and all in good fun, of course, but minho was right- jisung was slowing them down today.

his brain was so fuzzy, though, he couldn’t help it, and moving felt like trying to dance under water, except everything hurt on top of being slow.  even laying still, unmoving on the floor was painful.

a large hand brushed against jisung’s forehead and he brushed it off immediately, sitting up.  woojin was inspecting him carefully.

“what?”  jisung said, a bit defensively.

“are you really feeling bad?  do you have a fever?”  woojin’s protective instincts had kicked in, it seemed.  jisung rolled his eyes.

“i’m fine, hyung, it’s just a little cold.  we’ve all practiced with colds before, it’s not the end of the world.”  jisung barely made it to the end of his sentence before breaking out into a coughing fit, which ended abruptly with a series of three consecutive sneezes.  jisung resisted the urge to moan at the way that rattled his brain.

by the time jisung could breath again, felix had joined them.  “channie-hyung says it’s time to get back to practice,” he reported quietly, biting his lip and wringing his hands nervously.  “but, jisungie, if you’re sick-“

jisung’s chest warmed - not from any fever, no, of course not, but from felix’s constant kindheartedness.  “i’’m okay, really!  don’t worry.”  he smiled and patted felix’s shoulder, then stood and made his way to his position for the next number.  he had made it this far, he could finish the day.

it had been a long one, no doubt.  they’d started practicing at 7 am, then filmed a commercial, a practice video, and a guide video.  now it was nearing 7 pm and if they were lucky they’d be done by 8.

the frustrating thing was that the longer they practiced, the more jisung seemed to mess up.  maybe it was because of the way he had started shivering uncontrollably, or how his head had begun pounding, but it seemed unfair to jisung that he was actually getting worse, regardless of how many times he ran through each move, step by step.

they called it quits at around 8:30.  by then, everyone was exhausted and frustrated and ready for a shower, but jisung, changbin, and chan stayed in the studio while the others went back to the dorm.  they had a new album to prepare, and the deadline was approaching at an alarming rate.

jisung didn’t like the way the small producing room made his coughs sound even louder.  he’d coughed almost as soon as they’d entered the room, and had somehow managed to startle himself with the noise, an almost booming sound that in hindsight seemed fitting considering how much it rattled his body.  jisung had stopped complaining about his condition by the end of practice - it was no longer worth the trouble of opening his mouth.  by the time they were in the studio, he could hardly even keep his eyes open.  he coughed, repressed a groan, and rested his throbbing head on his arms.

after a few minutes, someone tapped his arm and jisung looked up to see changbin starting at him, one earbud plugged in while the other dangled.

“jisungie, are you okay?”  it took jisung a second too long to respond because chan jumped in, physically setting his work aside and turning to fully face the younger boy as he did so.

a bit dazed, but wanting to complete his tasks for the day - jisung would do nearly anything to avoid falling behind - he forced a smile.  “i’m okay, hyungs.  trust me.”  the older two boys nodded, but exchanged worried glances that jisung tried to ignore.

minutes later, he squinted at the blank page in front of him, trying not to cry as his head pounded with a nearly unbearable intensity.  on top of that, it felt like there was no air in the room.

he stood up, hoping that doing so would help him focus, as it sometimes does.  instead, he felt the blood drain from his face and plopped right back into his seat, wondering for a second if he was going to faint, and then just barely managing too swallow back a mouthful of vomit.  he shuddered at the taste, and his eyes drifted over that blank page again.  a wave of pure frustration replaced the pain and fear, then, and the next thing jisung knew, he’d flung his notebook and pens to the ground.  he had to bite back the urge to yell, instead opting to put his head back on his arms on the table in front of him.

“sugie, hey,” chan said calmly.  jisung felt changbin’s hand on his back, easily identifiable based on both size and method of soothing.  “okay,” chan said, “we’re done for today.”  jisung took a shuddering breath and sniffled, not wanting to lift his head and expose his tear streaked face.  he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and tried to stop crying.

“no, hyung, i’m okay.  we need to finish-“ jisung’s voice cracked, and he nearly choked, starting to cry again and cough at the same time.  it was the thought of finishing - their goal was to get a demo version of the album done tonight, and that seemed so impossible now and it was his own fault.

chan hugged jisung to his chest, and changbin squeezed his shoulder, eyebrows drawn close together with worry.  “we’ll finish it another day, sungie, it’ll be fine.”

jisung felt awful.  now that he was focusing on it, his head was about to explode, his throat was raw and constantly tickling in a way that was driving him insane, his muscles ached like they did after the first day of a new workout routine only 100 times worse, and he was so cold.  he was sure that chan could feel him shivering, but it felt so nice to be wrapped up in the older boy’s warmth, he didn’t want to move.

just like during practice a hand found jisung’s forehead - not woojin’s, this time, but changbin’s, and jisung didn’t push him away.  changbin made a sympathetic noise and looked up at chan.  “he definitely has a fever.”

chan sighed and nodded, petting jisung’s hair slowly.  jisung matched his breathing to the motion, and managed to pull himself together enough to stop crying.

“i’m sorry,” he said quietly into chan’s chest.  “i tried… i tried to keep up today, but i just made things worse.”

changbin snorted.  “hardly.”

chan nodded in agreement.  “we’ve been up and about for over 13 hours now, it’s best for us all to get some rest anyway, i think.”

“okay.”  jisung wasn’t convinced that they were telling the truth, but he appreciated the reassurance regardless.  chan smiled at him and changbin helped him to his feet.

“let’s go home, yeah?”  chan asked.  “how’s sleep sound?” 

jisung smiled, just slightly.  “that sounds great, hyung.”

[thesportssoundoff]

“For Christmas I  Want....” What the UFC needs per division in 2020

Joey

December 10th

Right around now the majority of us are desperately chasing down gift ideas and huddling our cash together to try and budget it out for the people we care about evenly. In MMA, December means that for one month we spend 31 days pretending that everything's going to be fine in MMA. That the sins of 2019 are gone and won't re-emerge in 2020 and we are about to embark on another insane run like 2015 or 2016. MMA's changing, growing and expanding and shrinking and evolving and degrading all at once around us and so as we embark upon what should be a hectic 2020,  I wanted to take a light hearted approach at examining what 2020 will be. What would the UFC request that the MMA Gods give them in 2020? What are the divisions asking for on their Christmas lists? Let's run down what each division is secretly wishing for when we enter the next year of MMA stupidity.

Flyweight and Women's Featherweight- A bullet

Simply put, both of these divisions would probably be better suited if the UFC just put them out of their misery. 2019 started with a UFC flyweight roster rapidly approaching the single digits and a threat of TJ Dillashaw stepping in to kill the division outright. It ends with a roster of fighters still not too far off the single digits with a champion who seems disinterested in defending the title and clearly has the plans to move up to 135 lbs full time. The likelihood is that the flyweight division will get a title fight or two and then fade off into obscurity as there's no real prospects of note, Benavidez as champion has long lost any luster and the Cejudo good vibes are dead and buried. For women's featherweight, it was a golden carrot to get Cyborg to stop feuding with the organization that hired her. The Cyborg championship era lasted all of two fights and the Amanda Nunes run with the title is dead and/or bloated. Nunes having a token title defense vs Megan Anderson might appease some folks but there's been no development and no real sign of progress. Let these divisions go and let Bellator and Brave/ONE find stuff for them to do.

Men's Bantamweight- Some sizzle for this steak

The UFC's 135 lb division has been one of the more promising developments over the past few years. While it took a slight step backwards for me in 2019, I still think this division is among the best in MMA even if it ranks slightly behind 170 and 155 lbs. There's depth, new talent, a variety of names and faces and personalities and barring something unforseen 20120 figures to keep the pace overall. What it needs in 2020 is for this division to finally get an ROI on some big time names. Henry Cejudo is a promising potential draw at the lighter weight classes but I think he's still going to need help to reach the high end mark on his upside. That requires some names to step up and give him an assortment of fun new challenges. Dominick Cruz needs to get healthy because Cejudo vs Cruz verbally at least has some compelling appeal to it. Cody Garbrandt still has SOME name value and I think if he goes on a streak, we'll see an reset in terms of how fans view him. Jose Aldo and Urijah Faber need to find ways to win tough fights and maintain in the title picture because while I may not care for Cejudo/Aldo or Cejudo/Faber, there are fans who very clearly love these guys and would be absolutely up for seeing them try to capture the title from Cejudo. Guys like MArlon Moraes, Sean O'Malley and Petr Yan need to continue to develop new fanbases and keep up their stretch of exciting fights. This division has a lot of talent but it might need to get a bit greedy in search of some big money fights.

Featherweight- A definitive Max Holloway solution

The UFC spent most of 2018 having open discussions about whether or not Max Holloway was long for the 145 lb division. They talked a bunch about wanting him to move up due to intense weight cuts, saw him move up and then immediately bailed on the idea when he fought Dustin Poirier. My take is that Holloway is still probably destined for 155 lbs and one loss to Dustin Poirier (who is a naturally monstrous dude at 155 lbs) shouldn't deter them. If Max Holloway is hurting his long term health at 145 lbs but may be "too small" for 155 lbs then he'll just need to adapt to that and overcome that the same way Frankie Edgar has done for years. Figuring out what Holloway will be doing in 2020 will probably be aided by the Volkanovski fight but even if Alexander Volkanovski becomes the latest 145 lber to come up short vs Max Holloway, I'm still not convinced I need to see Max toiling at featherweight. As a bonus item or a stocking stuffer if ya will, it SURE would be nice to see the likes of Zabit, Yair Rodriguez, Shane Burgos and Calvin Kattar continue to clear out the 145 lbers who have been sort of lingering in the same spots since about 2016 or so.

Lightweight- For their stars to actually fight

Easy enough, right? The UFC's lightweight division revolves around three names; Conor McGregor, Khabib Nurmamegodov and Tony Ferguson. I'd almost argue that Tony Ferguson is a level behind Dustin Poirier drawing wise but I think at peak value, those three guys make this division hum and draw the big numbers. Not even playing the "these guys fight three times a year!" card, the UFC got two fights out of those three guys and one of those (Ferguson vs Cerrone) was a desperation heave at the last minute. If this division is going to go places then Khabib needs to fight more, Conor needs to stay out of trouble and Tony Ferguson needs to come close to resembling the pace he had in 2016 and 2017. Even accounting for Khabib taking time off for Ramadan, this division cannot exist with THIS much talent in it without more fights from those three guys. I guess you could even throw in Justin Gaethje who expects to sit out until the Tony vs Khabib fight happens. You can't have 4 of your top 5 guys not doing anything with so much talent to be tested up and down the rankings.

Welterweight- A break

The welterweight division is the world's dumbest MMA riddle. It sure seems to trumpet out a finish or a "What the fuck is happening?!" fight on a per show basis better than any other division out there. I mean off the top of my head you have Vicente Luque, Tim Means, Mike Perry, Elizeu Zaleski, Niko Price, Geoff Neal, Robbie Lawler, Jorge Masvidal, Santiago Ponzinibbio, Muslim Salikhov, Matt Brown and that doesn't even begin to account for some of the dudes I can't remember off the top of my head. This division is loaded with dudes who exist to hit each other in the head really hard over and over and over until somebody falls down. It's the world's cruelest division in terms of raw violence. Unfortunately at the top of the division, we've basically had the same 4-5 guys hogging up spots and they more often than not tend to bring us fights that fall on the wrong side of the entertainment scale. Even if you like Kamaru Usman, Leon Edwards, Tyron Woodley and Colby Covington, you have to admit you're probably exhausted by four dudes with similar styles and similarly cringy trash talk skills sucking up all the air and hype in this division. The UFC could really use a break from these folks in 2020. If Edwards/Woodley and Usman/Covington go off without a hitch, it'd be nice for us to get somebody new and fun in there just to allow us all the chance to mentally reset. Maybe that's Jorge Masvidal even!

Middleweight- More Israel Adesanya

The UFC has been very fortunate with the health of its breakout star of sorts. Since coming to the UFC at the start of 2018, Israel Adesanya has fought four times one year and three times the next. He's been busy and consistent and either healthy or healthy enough to always make the walk. With some much instability around him, the UFC really needs Adesanya to continue to take fights throughout 2020. If the goal is to do Adesanya vs Jones then he needs to have AT LEAST two fights prior to this (say March and July of 2020) against top competition. Yoel Romero is seemingly going to be one of those guys and you'd assume a healthy Paulo Costa is the other. The goal should be to keep Adesanya busy because you won't have his freshness and ability to fight consistently forever.

Light heavyweight- A genuine Jones challenger

I feel like it speaks to the pain of 205 lbs that Jon Jones' two title fights were against former 185 lbers who had casually beaten the shit out of the guys who once held pole positions in the division without much challenge. 2019 was a weird year for the division as it felt old, stagnant and perhaps worst of all directionless. If you honestly asked the UFC, I'd bet they'd say privately that the biggest disappointment of 2019 revolved around the fact that the fighters they probably expected to move up and provide fresh challenges all failed. Chris Weidman was smoked by Dom Reyes, Jan Blachowicz retired Luke Rockhold, Jacare Souza's 2019 was abysmal and his LHW debut left nobody impressed while Yoel Romero and Anderson Silva stayed home at 185 lbs. If one was to remove Dominick Reyes from the conversation, the next in line would be two guys who have pretty much failed historically when given a major step up (Jan Blachowicz is not too far removed from a four fight losing streak and Corey Anderson has been KO'd by the likes of Gian Villante and Jimi Manuwa) while the likes of Nikita Krylov, Misha Cirkunov, Khalil Rountree and that one polish dude (Michal Oluwalewalebangbang) all sort of did nothing. Even prized prospect Johnny Walker had a topsy turvy 2019 punctuated by getting smelted by Corey Anderson. The UFC needs to end 2020 with one of two things set in stone; 1) A genuine challenge for Jon Jones or 2) an understanding that Jon will be leaving the division for good and the UFC will finally have to invest resources into rebuilding this morbid division.

Heavyweight- More of the same, baby.

Seriously. This division is A-ok. You got a bunch of new dudes beating the shit out of each other, every year 2-3 new doughy guys show up and make a bit of an impact, a new HW to get giddy about from Brazil or Europe or Russia every few months and the likes of Alistair Overeem, Derrick Lewis, Stefan Struve and Andrei Arlovski to tie this shit all together. Let's keep HW happy and dumb, right? The only complaint could be had in every division really; have your champs fighting more.

Women's Strawweight- ALSO more of the same

Seriously this division has really become one of the best in MMA full stop. It still has the well earned reputation of being a decision division but if one wants to be honest, the depth at the top of this place is UNREAL good. Joanna, Zhang, Andrade, Namajunas, Suarez and Ansaroff on their own merits are as strong a top six as any division can offer. Throw in a healthy mix of ladies like Alexa Grasso, Claudia Gadelha, Randa Markos, Carla Esparza, Cynthia Calvillo and Marina Rodriguez and you've got great depth below that. Even if there isn't an influx of exciting fun new names (I think Virna Jirandoba and Brianna Van Buren are really the only two new debutants worth really getting excited over), there's plenty of talent o be had here. This is MMA's most unpredictable division so keep giving us wacky madness then.

Women's Flyweight- An identity

I guess you could sum up a division by its champion and clearly Valentina Shevchenko is the perfect face for this division. She's really talented, sometimes compelling as a fighter but you can't name anything about her besides "She killed Jessica Eye and she has a bullet tattoo!" At this point, what could you say about the women's flyweight division? What's their identity? What makes the women's flyweight division unique? Is it not just a grab bag of fighters too small for 135 lbs, too big for 115 lbs and prospects who are still trying to cut their teeth throughout the division? Women's flyweight fights just feel like they exist, adding nothing but always appearing on shows. What's the key to figuring out this division? They need an identity that gets fans to better understand it.

Women's Bantamweight- Depth beyond Amanda Nunes

I think there's a really good chance that barring the emergence of some faces, this division will not see a woman on the same level of Amanda Nunes, GDR and Holly Holm. What this division needs is depth because Holly Holm is one foot out the door and GDR has already retired once already. Just sign a bunch of ladies!