#i love using tumblr to hash out my entire thought process just so i can sleep at night

[breadstickitinme]

long vent warning

im staying at a friends house in another state for about a week and its my first day/night here and i was chilling and stuff but shes gotten a bit sick and is throwing up a lot, and im in an unfamiliar area, and when i was doing ljke my skincare shit in the bathroom i heard her parentals arguing and it was very stressy.

and like im really used to music playing in the house 24/7 bc thats just how my mum is, and theres always light. but theres none of that here and i think its fucking me up a little

its ok, i have cute bois hoodie and the Rat, so i will make due with those

its not even like an extenuating circumstance or anything like, this is my best friends house, and ive stayed here for a week before. and ive been awake since 5AM (it is like 11PM) rn. and perhaps im just tired

and seeking comfort in familiarity. which is valid and makes sense so i just need to go to sleep?

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

[mynameisnemo]

So once upon a time @ananeiah​ convinced me to start listening to The Magnus Archives.  And then, as if that wasn’t enough crime being committed, then she started throwing Tumblr posts about the show at my head until I actually had to come back to this hellsite and create an account so that I too could yell about headcanons. 

This post right here about Martin was the post that actually dragged me back onto this hellsite after I quit years ago.  It’s a really good post but to caveat the entire LONG post to follow, I don’t totally agree with OP’s headcanon.

So diving right in, we haven’t been given anything about Martin's mum other than in EP118 where Elias used her to torture Martin into not burning the statements anymore.  And then she died when everything else was also going to hell.  And Martin’s mum may have been awful and abusive and never loved him.   But...I feel like this take on her is a very one-dimensional one, coming pretty much entirely from Elias Known-Liar-and-Manipulator Bouchard’s mouth while he’s using the knowledge against someone for a purpose. Elias is a fear entity who is getting ready to feed Martin to the lonely. 

But the really awful thing is if she did love him.

Maybe at one point she really did love him but over time and thru her deterioration her ability to see him apart from his father deteriorated as well.  And so Martin knows that at one time she did love him...but then things got hard...and then things got harder (and no one ever says what she was sick with so depending on what type of degenerative illness she had I have different theories about this) and in the end she can only see his father and not him but he has to hope every day that she'll remember him.

(Like there's early onset dementia/Alzheimers which would both cause a lack of ability to distinguish Martin from his father, esp given the physical similarities between them.  And also an obvious excuse for emotional outbreaks on her part. And then brain cancer which...is a whole fucking can of worms about how it can exhibit.  Or it could be something physical like Parkinson's or MS or ALS which doesn’t necessarily in and of itself cause a mental deterioration but the drugs that are used to treat it can cause all kinda of cognitive complications.)

But any of them would exhibit a pattern of good days and bad days and Martin wouldn’t have anyway of knowing what was the drugs - either in a positive or a negative way - and what was her actual feelings.  And then a literal avatar of evil and fear takes the worst parts of that and shoves it into his mind wholesale without any nuance or mitigation.

And then on top of that, he doesn’t even have time to deal with it.  Because soon after that Jon and Tim and Daisy all died to various degrees.  And Elias was still there being a threat and Melanie was also there and a much more immediate physical threat.  And I know everyone processes things in different ways and on different timelines but the existence of an immediate threat mostly supersedes any kind of emotional processing.

And then Peter was fucking with him which I very much feel like started with a dampening of his feelings via depression.  As if he didn’t enough already to be depressed about.  (And at the time that I originally thought a lot of this out I hadn’t started S5 yet.  So, ya know, The Fearpocalypse.)

Mostly I feel like until he gets some time to breathe he won’t even start to work thru the major emotional trauma of dealing with his mom dying.  And that would be true even if Elias hadn’t been evil and shown him a truth about her feelings towards him.  I feel that would require the emotional space to work thru what is grief and what is possibly outside influenced trauma.  Which also assumes that he is the type of person who has the ability to see that the two might be separate, and I think he is because he seems to have a certain amount of ability to be introspective.  I think anyone who ends up lonely has to be, to some extent.

There’s so many levels to what he needs to process as well.  Because the thing about processing after a parent dies isn’t just about the feelings when you're like 30 and they died but also about the feelings when you were 9 and confused and 14 and resentful and 23 and angry.  All of those emotions are valid and they all have to be dealt with without the ability to hash them out with the person you feel them about.  And there's no ability to gain a perspective on the things that made you feel that way because you can’t say "hey, you remember that time this happened....it made me feel this way..." and then they explain what their emotions and perspective on the thing were. 

Because...they don’t exist anymore.  So you have to attribute actions and emotions to a past event thru a lense of what you think you know about a person.

And I will NEVER forgive Elias because Martin will always have to wonder, no matter how healthy his coping mechanisms are, if he is just wishing his mother did love him or if she really hated him and everything was a lie.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What was the brand of your first ever cell phone? Motorola.  What are your 3 favorite internet sites? Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter. Do you have a favorite pair of blue jeans? Describe them. I like all my jeans, which are all dark wash skinny jeans. Let’s be real, though: I haven’t worn jeans in over a year. I only wear leggings.  What profession do you respect? I respect many professions. Have you ever been the recipient of a practical joke? Nah.

Have you ever ate something you’ve dropped on the floor, if so what? I probably did as a kid, but I quickly grew out of the whole “5 second rule” thing.  Would you consider being an Uber driver if you needed to make extra money? Not sure how that would work since I don’t drive. How do you know when you’re in love, what’s the main sign? I just know. Have you ever gotten anything autographed, if so by who & what was it? Yes. Do you prefer Walmart or Target? I like both, but I can find a lot of cute stuff at Target. What do you long for? “I want something else, to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby.” That lyric just popped into my head for this. Anyway, I long for a life I’m excited about living. If you could be a personal assistant to anyone, who would it be? I don’t want to. What is the most important thing you can do to improve yourself? Better self-care would help. I’ve neglected myself in a lot of ways. My mental health definitely needs help, it has suffered greatly.  What makes it hard for you to keep your focus? My jumbled mess of a mind. What tragic love story do you relate to? Blah. Has your intuition or “gut” served you well? Sometimes. What’s the longest you’ve ever waited in line for something and what was it? Rides at Disneyland. I think once we waited like 3 hours for this one ride, which took so long because it broke down and had to be repaired. And it was just a long line in general.  Who is your favorite model? Like fashion model? I don’t have one. What have you done that is out of character for you? Hmm. Would you rather get a gift card or a gift that someone bought for you? I appreciate either one.  How do you handle a betrayal? I don’t know, but it sucks. What’s the biggest blooper you’ve never lived down? My life. If you owned a restaurant what kind of food do you want to serve? I wouldn’t own a restaurant. What will we find if we look in the bottom of your closet today? Shoes and other stuff. What kind of car did you learn how to drive on? I haven’t learned how to drive. What is the best thing you have done just because you were told you can’t? I don’t knowwww. Have you ever had to go to court or testify and if so what for? No. Do you believe in karma? No. Are you more worried about doing the things right, or doing the right thing? Both. Do you believe in the term “Mother knows best?” I mean, I definitely value my mom’s opinions. It doesn’t mean we always agree.  Who is your favorite movie action hero? Iron Man/Tony Stark.  What is one thing you can get in your hometown you can’t get elsewhere? My town isn’t special. How important are looks in someone you’re in a relationship with? I can’t say looks don’t matter at all, but they’re not the most important. Personality means a lot more, and it can also add to someone’s attractiveness.  What freedom do you feel is not really free anymore? I can’t think for this survey right now. What are you most thankful for? My family. Do you have any favorite talk shows or talk radio programs without music? Dr. Phil and Daily Pop. What was the last book you read? Burying the Honeysuckle Girls by Emily Carpenter. What’s your favorite online store? Exclusively online: Amazon. However, I shop a lot on Hot Topic, Boxlunch, and Kohl’s websites.  What band would you love to tour with or be a roadie for? None. I’m not a musical artist or in a band, and I don’t want to be a roadie.  If you were to throw a message in a bottle into the ocean, it would say? Hi.  Do you have common sense or do you think people are lacking in it? Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it’s so common.  What’s your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Coffee. How do you feel about thrift shops or flea markets? Not my thing. What do you like to put gravy on? I love country gravy on eggs, biscuits, and hash browns and turkey or pork gravy on turkey, ham, and mashed potatoes.  Have you ever gone canoeing/kayaking? Nope.  What one thing in particular makes you feel good about yourself? :/ What is priceless to you? Spending time with my family. What do you wait for discount sales to buy? I always look for sales on things whenever I can.  What is one thing you know about your family history you’re proud of? Hmm. What 3 songs will always be found at the top of your playlist? I don’t think there’s 3 particular songs that would always be there.  What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done for someone? It must be too late or something cause I really can’t think of an answer for a lot of these. Do you keep a budget? I just make sure my bills are paid first at the 1st of the month and then use the rest as I please, but try and keep around a certain amount in my bank each month.  If you could cast a spell on someone what spell would you cast and on who? I wouldn’t.  What makes you feel rested and refreshed? A day at the beach. It’s the only time I can actually relax for a bit while there. What is the funniest joke you have ever heard about? Who depends on you the most? I don’t know if anyone really depends on me. I’m the depender.  Could you ever be someone’s bodyguard? Ha, no. Has one of your biggest fears come true? Yes. Is there anything about the opposite sex you just don’t understand? There’s a lot I don’t understand about people in general. Have you ever let your mom or significant other fight a battle for you? My mom. Did you create a checklist for your ideal spouse?  Only when asked in surveys. If so, what were two things you wanted? Patience and understanding. Have you ever ridden on a subway or train an what did you like about it? I haven’t. What song on your playlist gets played the most? Spotify doesn’t tell me that. Do you prefer sporty or academic members of the opposite sex? If we vibe, we vibe. Do you have to experience something to fully understand it? I mean, I think so.  Has anyone in your family ever served in the military? Yeah. Finish the next line in your style: Roses are red, violets are blue… I’m tired, how ‘bout you? What embarrasses you instantly? If I spittle while talking or food or drink falls out my mouth while talking. Do you think you could be a firefighter, why/why not? No. I’m a paraplegic for one thing, so that’d make things kind of difficult. Do you often read your horoscope? I don’t at all. I don’t believe in that stuff. I never really did, it was more just for fun, but now I don’t even bother. What current event are you tired of hearing about? Trump. Are you a daredevil? HA. What common pitfalls do you find yourself dealing with in your work life? I don’t have a job. Describe your “poker face”. No expression? Isn’t that what it is in general, not just to me specifically? What do you think should be censored? I don’t see the issue of having curse words and nudity censored for children. Are you related to anyone famous or historical, if so who? Not that I know of. Would you ever donate a kidney to anyone, and who? I couldn’t. How do you encourage yourself when you go through hard times? I don’t encourage myself, I wallow. Have you ever fired a gun? Yes. I went to a shooting range with friends once.  Do you think people, including yourself live up to their full potential? Maybe this is my full potential. Maybe this is all I got to give. How are you different from most people? I don’t know.  What is the main quality you think makes a great parent? Love? What creature do you admire for its ability to adapt? Uhhh. How do you feel about GMOs? >> I think the whole process is interesting, and I think there are clear benefits to genetic modification, and I think there are clear detriments to genetic modification, and that’s just how it goes. <<<  Have you ever stayed up for an entire 24 hours, why? Yes. No good reason, just happened. Who is a female role model in your life?  My mom. What childhood dreams have you neglected? All of them? I know child me didn’t dream of a life like this. How often do you reevaluate your life? I need to really do that and start taking steps in the right direction, but I just haven’t been able to for some reason. What’s your favorite place just to hang out? My room. What gives you a zest for life? I’m not feelin’ very zesty. What do you have trouble seeing clearly in your mind? A future where I have better health and a relationship. I can’t see those things at all. What three things do you think of most of each day? A lot of things. My mind is a mess and it’s always racing. Would you travel to space if possible? No. Just the thought terrifies me. Name a famous person you wouldn’t mind for a business partner. I’m not a business person, nor do I desire to be, so I have no need for a business partner. 

[stopforamoment]

Sense and Sensibility (5 of 7)

Sturm und Drang

Sense and Sensibility (5 of 7)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 1,421

Rating: R for Language and Discussion of Rape

*TRIGGERS discussion of rape and unwanted sexual contact

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

This series takes place in week three of the school year, and Bastien and Rinda are about to go through their first major friendship challenges.

Summary: Rinda and Bastien try to explain their perspectives to each other.

Bastien looked at Rinda’s eyes and turned away. Golden topaz. The look of controlled fury that he hoped would never be directed at him, but there it was.

When he had the courage to look at her again there was so much pain in his eyes. “Rinda, it’s not that simple.” He took a deep breath. “It’s about defending the king, but it’s also about defending the country. And sometimes things need to be done that, that seem cruel to a civilian.” He looked at Rinda, gauging her reaction. She returned his stare without flinching.

“Constantine’s rule had been, well, challenging. Regina is his third wife. His first wife just left court. She couldn’t handle it, so she left her son Leo behind.” Rinda had been studying recent Cordonian history since she arrived, so she knew the basics and nodded that she was following along. “Then his second wife, Liam’s mom. She was . . . perfect. She complemented Constantine so well. She softened him, she advocated for the people. Education, literacy, social reform. But she wasn’t from Cordonia. She was French, and she was a commoner. Some people called her ‘The French Whore.’” Bastien spat out the words, furious at the memories. “The people loved her, but there were factions who despised her because she was a foreigner and didn’t have royal blood. So she was assassinated, and now there’s Regina. Constantine changed after the loss of two wives, and he deliberately sought someone who would be strong, but in a different way. In a hard, cold kind of way. And then Leo abdicated and Liam was forced into the role. Then there was Constantine’s declining health and the need for Liam to find a suitor. A suitable suitor. Constantine was concerned about the monarchy and the country, but he was also afraid for Riley because she is a foreigner, like his second wife. And you’re right, Rinda. Riley is so strong. She rose to every challenge, and the people loved her. Liam loved her. So Constantine gave an order to do the lowest thing he could think of. Even worse than an assassination. And I carried out his orders.”

…….

“So, what I did. It’s the same thing as the people who covered up your rape. I’m no better than them, and I know that. And that’s why I needed to tell you.”

Rinda was quiet for a long time. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. Bastien couldn’t look at her. He just stared at the wall, waiting. Giving her time. Giving her space.

“Bastien, I don’t think it’s completely fair to say that. Those men were just looking for a paycheck, and what you do is more than that. And intellectually, not emotionally, I can wrap my brain around hurting one woman because it could ultimately protect an entire country. The needs of the few outweighing the needs of the many. Whereas with me, it was just protecting some rich kid asshole who will never have to deal with consequences.

“I think part of what’s messing me up is that you’re an honorable man. You’re a good guy, as cliché as that sounds. So I’m getting tripped up with reconciling the honor of protecting king and country with what ultimately ended up being a shitty, asshole way to sabotage a woman. I think, what I mean is that I’m shocked you didn’t refuse Constantine’s orders or at least talk to him about it. I know your role is to protect the king and obey his orders, but you’re head of security with power of your own so you can protect people.”

Bastien took some time to think about the best way to answer Rinda. “My primary roles are to protect and serve the king. I’m in the military, Rinda. Like any soldier, I must obey orders, and those orders come directly from the king. I’m not the king’s advisor and my power is ultimately meant to be used to protect him and Cordonia.”

Rinda was slowly nodding her head. Not that she was agreeing, but she was acknowledging that she heard him and was taking it in. “I’m glad that you told me about what happened to Riley and your role in everything. I know you didn’t have to do that, that I probably would have never found out. Thank you for that. And thank you for listening to me and for explaining your perspective. I know we view things very differently, but I do understand where you are coming from, and at least logically I understand why you carried out that order. Bastien, was there anything else you wanted to say?”

Bastien looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Rinda smiled. “Sorry . . . Jameson and I always did that. I need some time to process things, and I need to be away from you to do that. That’s why I asked. It’s kind of an ‘any last words’ before I retreat into myself for a bit.”

“Oh. No, I don’t think so. But I’m glad that you listened to what I had to say.”

Rinda gave a small smile. “Bastien, I’m just saying this to be honest with you. Just be warned that I do hang onto things for a long time.” Bastien nodded, but he knew better than to do any more than that. “So I might be awkward with you, or I might ask you the same questions and have you tell me the exact same thing again. I know that’s rehashing. And it might be something where I suddenly bring it up again out of nowhere, and I’m not doing that to hurt you or fight dirty. It’s honestly something where I didn’t even know it was bothering me until something else triggered it.” She gave a sad smile. “That sort of happened when I started talking about Jameson and his injury just now. I hold these grudges and can’t fucking let go of some things, and I never know what’s going to set me off again.”

Bastien gave her a thoughtful look. A lot of things about Rinda, the things she said and didn’t say, made more sense the more he got to know her. Lorinda Rose Parks. Rinda Rose. So many layers of petals to make one beautiful flower.

Rinda gave a shaky laugh. “I’m seriously a pain in the ass, but I’m telling you what I do, what I need to do. So like I said, if there’s anything else you wanted to say, or if you want to tell me how you need to process stuff like this, please let me know.”

Bastien was silent. He didn’t know what to make of Rinda’s explanation and what he should do about it right now, but he could see that she was trying to give him a roadmap to navigate the next step of their friendship. It sounded like he just needed to give her space and to be patient when she brought this up again. Fuck. Did this discussion even accomplish anything? He hated this shit. Relationships. Complications. Why did he have to care about her so much?

Rinda stood up. She didn’t say anything, but he knew that was his clue to leave. “I am glad that you came, Bastien. Thank you.” Bastien stared awkwardly, not sure if he should take her hand or . . . normally she took the lead, rescuing him when he wasn’t sure. Rinda started at him a moment, and slowly shook her head. He wasn’t allowed to touch her, but she did speak again. “We’re going to be okay, Bastien. And we’re still going to work well together to protect the kids. But anything more than this, for right now, I’m either going to shut down or lash out. I need to defrag now. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

Bastien nodded. He let himself out and Rinda shut the door, not bothering to walk him out or watch him out the window.

Now it was time to unpack the baggage, take out each piece and overanalyze it. It was time to throw away the logic and to embrace her emotions. To hash, rehash, second guess, and replay every word, every facial expression. To submerse herself in the pain of his betrayal, without any guilt of whether it should even be considered betrayal to her or not. All that mattered tonight were her own perspectives and feelings--logic and Bastien’s explanations be damned.

[survivor-guyana]

Episode 10 - "If the votes aren't Unan1mous, I'm going to die." - Maynor

what the fuck kind of alliance votes out two of my closest allies two rounds in a row, and doesn't even tell me their concerned or trusts me with their opinion.

alyssa and jess. jsyk.

Well, being completely blindsided doesn't feel good. I just want to make sure that I'm safe moving forward, and I'm feeling very upset about how this just went over. I'm so pissed at Jess and Alyssa for not saying anything. And even Aidan. Fucking Aidan said nothing. I need to look at this situation positively, but I honestly don't know what to do right now.

I guess I need to find a way to strike against Jess/Alyssa/Devon because they are the power trio right now... I just hate doing it because I love all three of them, but if I want any chance of winning at all, I kind of need to do that.

I probably need to start by making sure I have Aidan and Dani with me. Chelsea being on the wrong side and talking with me helps, and then I need to solidify my relationship with Jones and Maynor.

Maybe with all of those combined, I have a chance.

So tonight I fucked up harder than I EVER HAVE FUCKED UP IN A GAME BEFORE (and that's saying something). I've been going through a rough patch the last week and have probably gotten a total of 15 hours of sleep since Friday???? When I was on call with Devon/Alyssa I read something out loud Jones sent me and it mentioned the whole alliance with Alyssa/Jones. I'm hoping I fucking mumbled but Alyssa understood me so DEVON KNOWS. I attempted to play it off but I DON'T know. I just don't fucking know. I'm dumb. I feel dumb.

I'm just trying to build trust with people at this point. I feel like my game fell apart fucking HARD this round. I cracked at final 10. FINAL FUCKING 10. I'm not trying to get DOWN on myself but low-key this is probably why I don't win games lmfao.

I told Alyssa about the idol so I'm hoping this is a sign of trust. I don't know how I 1000% feel about telling her but here goes nothing I guess?

I was in a pretty decent position going into this round and then....until I literally set fire to the rain and fucked shit up.

My relationship with TJ took a hit. That's not going to be good in the future. My relationship with Maynor took a hit. That's not going to be good in the future. My relationship with Chelsea is fucked (but did we ever have any type of working relationship, not really). My relationship with Devon probably took a hit because of my own stupidity. My relationship with Alyssa took a hit when I was sipping on dumb bitch juice. My relationship with Jones is still a major question mark? My relationship with JD is as stable as I am currently and that's saying SOMETHING?

THAT'S LITERALLY ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE FUCKING GAME WHO HAS SOME SORT OF ISSUE WITH ME?

Literally the only two people I didn't piss off or give reason to hate me is Dani/Aidan... and that's.... just fucking sad.

I destroyed my game and that's on me.

Time to pick up these pieces somehow and make them FIT.

Here is a Haiku about my game:

My game is a mess. I messed it up real bad. Jumping of a bridge.

okay so,,, I talked to Alyssa and Jess,,,,,,, and I understand,,,,,, like 80% where they're coming from? Jess told me she and Alyssa flipped because they didn't realize TJ and I came to them and said JD said Jess' name?? Jess went to JD and she said that Tim was the one who threw Jess' name out,,,,, and like,, they couldn't take my word for it when I said I trusted Tim, WHICH I UNDERSTAND that they didn't trust tim, but the fact that I told them how i felt and they just didn't listen to me bothers me.

like,, imagine this scenario,, would you take the testimony of someone who's in your alliance (albeit with some ulterior motives, but still in the alliance) and told their alliance (95% of) the truth,,, or someone who is never online and had been stirring up chaos and drama and was spewing shit this entire day just too keep their self safe? just answer that in the comments below thank you xoxo

so now that Alyssa and Jess know what happened on my end, and I know what happened on their end, we're both in agreement that JD has to FUCKING GO!!!! Tim was fucking robbed, i'm so espresso depresso you have no idea i'm so sad that Tim's gone. what a king,,, the creator of Jones' angels,,,,, robbedt,,,,,

we're rebranded as Tim's Angels btw jsyk <3

but ummm this fucking Unan1mous thing???? more like fucking BOOnan1mus amirite ladies hahahahahah ha h hah ah  um,,, hmm that joke sucked i'm so sorry. SO okay yeah,, Alyssa/Jess/TJ/Maynor agreed they'd vote for JD, and that they'd try to get the rest of the numbers to work for JD, BUT the problem is that if ANY ONE PERSON DOESN'T VOTE UNAN1MOUSLY,,,, they're safe. so we gotta get /everyone/ on board with this. hopefully Chelsea won't want to have like,,, revenge against Alyssa/Jess/Devon or anything sksksks

but ummmm let's hope for the best? I gotta get to school at 6:00 am and it's 2:00 am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO it's snoozeville for me. catch you on the flipside :p

I hashed things out with Devon last night because I was so pissed off about the vote, but I still have a lot of trust to rebuild. When i mentioned my name going around, Devon, Alyssa, and Jess knew that my name wasn't out there and still didn't let me in on the Tim vote. I was completely alone and had to make an alliance with the others out of desperation and tbh, i think I look like an idiot. But anyway, i think Devon and i are on good terms and I hope we can rekindle our old team that i was loyal and comfotable with since the beginning.

This might be a long one Johnny. I am so sad that Tim went home. I was shocked. I thought i was able to trust Jess, Alyssa, Devon but they all lied and now to me personally are dead to me. Like im still going to work with them until i have an opporunity to strike against them. Like Alyssa she’s great but now has to leaving sooner than later. Devon final 2 is dead, i would gladly vote you out but have to time it really well. Dani m Aidan dead even more but seems like they are worried about Alyssa Jess and Devon so might use them to take out Alyssa. But yeah last night was rough. I had this ‘thing’ happened to be that was triggered by this game and my class lab. It wasnt good. There was a dark low moment were i got a negative thought that I should just tell them to vote me out for unanimous week. My friend texted me and told me to think it thru and Im glad i didnt day anything. I still want to play and try to make it to the end. Only person i trust 100% with out a doubt is Jonesy. ❤️ Everyone else can leave. Except i also like TJ amd Jess.

I'm not sure where my vote will land tonight. If I vote JD, I lose a shield in this game. At the same time, if JD goes tonight in a 9-1, we start to build trust among those we previously blindsided.

If I make it an 8-2 or 8-1-1, then I'm worried that people will use the process of elimination to find out I flipped....

Another random note about tonight. If JD stays due to me, the next target becomes Chelsea.

Essentially, I am deciding between playing with Chelsea or JD....

Everyone is saying JD’s name like lets do this. But now everyone is afaid of an idol and i swear if the votes aren’t unanimous, im going to die.

If I get idol'd out in this format I AM FUCKING SUING.

I CAN'T GO OUT ON MY FIRST TUMBLR ORG IN A ROUND BASED ON A ZWOOPER GAME.

HOW FUCKING IRONIC WOULD THAT BE?

YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYER!

In all honesty I'm struggling hard this round. Idol's are so dangerous this fucking round. SO FUCKING DANGEROUS.

The mental gymnastics happening this round is insane.

I'm honestly having PTSD about this god damn format. The ONLY time I've ever cried because of a game was IN THIS FORMAT (thanks JOHNNY).

Today all I've done is try and repair relationships. I've worked harder than a hooker on a Tuesday today. I am exhausted. If I go this has been fun-ish.

I feel fuckig awful i worked too hard in this game to potentially get idoled out and that breaks my heart that that could happen tonight. apparently JD is writing down my name because she thinks i'm "Stubborn" and she wants to save me???? like if you wanna save me then like maybe don't vote for me?????? like i get the intent behind it with like,,,, the idea to save me but this is fuckin wit hme to my c ore . .Jess thinks JD's ly ing ad that she's voting for Jess, I just,,, fuck i really wanna die right noww yk i think i might be getting out there's like a 60% chance JD doensn't have an idol, and if she's comfortable enough then she wont play it. but there's a good chance I'll be going home. fukfalkdsfajsdads don't be surprised if i cry i'm just so upsetti/uncomfortable with the idea of going hope i tried too hard but um yeah

Wellp I’m really close with Aidan and so far I feel like we are doing really good. I feel bad because I lied straight to JDs face about voting jonesy. Instead I voted for her.

I'M DEFINITELY NOT CRYING OR ANYTHIGN FUCK

[dimensionhoppingrose]

In My Veins (19/20)

Title: In My Veins Rating: K+ Pairing: Ten/Rose, human AU Summary: –Telepathic bond soulmate AU– Everyone kept saying kids couldn’t develop telepathic bonds, that it was completely impossible. John Smith and Rose Tyler defied the impossible.

Notes: Well I finally managed to hash out a soulmate AU enough to be happy with writing it. All the blame for this entire story goes to @lastbluetardis​, who not only encouraged it, but also allowed me to yell at her about it until I was happy enough to start writing it. Blame her entirely.

Read it on A03

Catch up on Tumblr

Note: Guess I found time write after all.

Seven more months.

Rose was starting to get anxious. She knew she wasn’t always the easiest person to deal with, and sure, John was in her head all the time, but that wasn’t the same as living with her.

It’s pretty much the same as living with you, John pointed out when he picked up on those thoughts. Rose shrugged miserably.

Living with me means you have to put up with me taking too long in the shower and staring at the fridge because I can’t decide what I want to eat or if I want to eat and getting up every ten minutes because I can’t sit still—

Oh, well when you put it that way you’re right, that sounds awful, John cut Rose off dryly. Take a breath, Rose. I love you. Believe it or not I already know about a lot of your little quirks because I experience them every single day. There’s almost nothing you could at this point that would surprise me. Unless you have a secret cache of bodies somewhere that you've been hiding from me for almost ten years. Then we might need to talk.

Rose giggled a bit despite herself. No bodies. She paused for a moment. We’ve known each other for almost ten years. Feels like longer.

Why, because I’m so insufferable? John teased, and Rose rolled her eyes.

No, I just… I feel like you’ve always been here, you know? She couldn’t remember a time when John hadn’t been here, in her head. And she liked it that way. She liked having him here.

I like having you here too, John said, and Rose could just imagine the stupid little smile on his face as he said that. I love you.

I love you too. Rose definitely didn’t have a stupid little smile of her own as she said those words. Definitely not.

* * * * * * * *

“Ooooooh, this one’s nice.”

Rose’s parents, unsurprisingly, had been unwilling to let her look at apartments with John alone. Honestly, what kind of trouble did they think they could get into? But Pete had insisted on coming, and Rose hadn’t felt like arguing with him. Sometimes, it was just better to let her parents have their way.

“One bedroom,” Pete commented, and Rose had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, Dad, we’re going to be sharing a bed. We don’t really need a second bedroom.” It was more money for something they didn’t need.

“I know, I know…” Pete didn’t look too thrilled to be hearing that, of course. Rose didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer. She had never bothered trying to explain to her parents that John didn’t care about sex. There was no point. They’d never believe her.

Not that it mattered once she was eighteen. She could do whatever she wanted and her parents couldn’t stop her. Including share a bed with her boyfriend.

Sad that sharing a bed is all we aspire to, John spoke up. He was out in the living room talking to the lady showing them the apartment, but apparently he was paying attention to the conversation. Rose stifled a laugh, but something in her eyes must have told Pete she was talking to John, because he raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, it’s nice though, isn’t it?” Rose asked quickly, distracting him.

“And how does John plan on paying for it?”

“With money, I would hope,” Rose said, a bit sarcastically. Pete gave her a look, and she sighed. “He got a second job on campus. He’s done all the math and it’ll be a bit tight, but he can afford it. He’s really good at saving money. He has no life.”

Rude!

They left the apartment, heading for the next one on the list. They had a long day ahead of them. This is weird, John said uncomfortably. He was grateful Pete hadn’t felt the need to break out the limo just to look at apartments (that was for special occasions), but he did have his personal driver driving them from place to place. It made John feel awkward. I could have just driven us.

It’s nothing personal, but Dad doesn’t trust anyone else to drive him around, Rose said gently. He was in a really bad car accident when I was a baby, and it kind of traumatized him. That’s what Mum says anyways. He hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car since and he hired a driver as soon as he had the money so Mum wouldn’t have to keep driving him everywhere. Charlie’s the only person besides Mum he trusts to drive him. He’s been Dad’s driver since I was five.

John cast a look at Pete, noting that he did seem rather stiff and tense. He hadn’t spoken the entire way from the mansion to the first apartment. John had assumed it was because he was unhappy with the task at hand.

That’s fair, John said quietly. I guess I wouldn’t like being in cars either if I’d almost died in one.

Pete relaxed once they were out of the car at the next place, though still not completely thrilled as they looked through the apartment. Rose liked this one a lot too. She had a feeling she was going to like most of them, though. “Hey Dad, this closet’s pretty big,” she said teasingly as she looked into the closet in question. “Maybe we could put a bed in here and have a second bedroom.”

“Very funny.” Pete pinched the bridge of his nose, far from amused by his daughter’s antics.  Rose made a face at him.

“You knew I was going to move in with him when I turned eighteen,” she pointed out. “I told you that.” He’d had plenty of time to process it.

“I know, Rose. I just…” He sighed. “Nobody wants to think about their daughter growing up. You’ll understand someday.”

John had been talking to the man showing them the place, but he went oddly quiet at Pete’s words, and Rose felt the rush of anxiety that went through him.

What’s wrong? Rose asked, surprised. She hadn’t been expecting such a reaction.

Nothing, John said quickly, and before Rose could question it further he was thinking about money and commutes and a thousand questions, all of which he proceeded to ask the man and distract from Rose. She scowled at his back and went back to touring with her dad.

Okay, seriously, what’s wrong? Rose asked on their way to the next place. Pete wasn’t going to distract them from a conversation in the car. John was trying desperately to think about anything else and make it hard for Rose to break through and figure out what his anxiety was. John. Knock it off and talk to me.

John sighed faintly. I just… do you… do you want kids?

What? Rose asked in disbelief. Where the hell is that coming from?

What your dad said earlier.

What did he… oh. Rose blinked as realization set in. “Nobody wants to think about their daughter growing up. You’ll understand someday.”

What does that have to do with anything? I think we have a few years before we need to worry about anything.

I know, but do you want kids? John felt like he should already know the answer to that. He was in her head all the time, after all. But it wasn’t something that had ever really come up.

I… yeah, I do, Rose admitted. She wouldn’t deny she had half-daydreamed about having a family with John someday. It would be amazing. But I don’t want to start one the minute we move in together or anything.

Yeah, but making a baby kind of involves sex.

Oh. Oh. Oh Jesus. Rose nearly rolled her eyes, but resisted. John might get the wrong idea. Is that what you’re worried about? We can figure something out. Maybe we can adopt. Honestly I don’t know if I’d want to pregnant. I don’t remember much from Mum being pregnant with Tony but I definitely remember her throwing up a lot. It sounds awful.

John smiled weakly. Adoption might be good.

Now will you please relax? Rose knew he was a bit insecure about the no sex thing, even if he tried not to let her see it. She wanted to put him at ease. Nothing was going to make her love him any less. He’d be a lot happier once he finally allowed himself to believe that.

Do you think your dad would rip my head off if I kissed you?

Rose smirked and leaned over, pressing a kiss to John’s lips. She thought she saw Pete twitch a little, but he couldn’t get mad; she had instigated it, after all.

* * * * * * * *

Five more months.

John had started his second job right before the semester started, and he was basically always tired. Rose didn’t like it. Are you sure you can handle this? She asked, and John could just imagine the frown on her face. He was sitting at the library, trying to study, but he kept getting distracted by yawning.

Yeah, of course, I’m fine.

You keep saying that. Rose didn’t seem impressed by his bravado. That was okay. Really, he was too tired to put up much of an act. I don’t think you know what fine means.

Very funny. John yawned again, and was momentarily distracted by an equally haggard and exhausted-looking student walking up to check out a book. Really, I’m okay. And it’s worth it to have the money for our apartment.

I wish you’d just let Dad help you. I bet he’d be willing. He was really impressed with how thoroughly you looked into apartments, Rose pointed out. John had gone just a little crazy with apartment hunting. There were roughly twenty spreadsheets and diagrams buried in the hard drive of his laptop from all the research he had done.

He’ll be less impressed if he thinks I can’t afford it, John said. He could almost feel Rose rolling her eyes.

This is some bloody man ego thing, isn’t it? Gotta prove you can pay the way for your lady and all that?

John bit down a laugh. Are you ‘my lady’ now?

Well I wouldn’t say you own me or anything.

I wouldn’t say that either. You’d slap me.

A ripple of amusement went through the link, and John smiled tiredly. God he loved her laugh.

* * * * * * * *

John’s dreams had always been a little weird — especially during high-stress study times when he seemed to have reoccurring nightmares about his books trying to eat him — but they had only gotten stranger since he’d started working at the library.

Tonight it had been some textbook chasing John down a row of library shelves screaming “YOU PUT ME IN THE WRONG SECTION” and while it hadn’t woken John up, by some miracle, Rose had snapped awake right as a second book had joined the textbook. The images from the dream turned fuzzy has Rose’s conscious mind took over; it was hard for them to say each other’s dreams when the other was awake. And honestly, Rose was just as happy for that. She’d had more than enough of books chasing her to last a lifetime.

Rose rolled out of bed, yawning. She was thirsty, so she went down to the kitchen to get a drink. She paused on the way there, noticing the light in the sun room was on. That was weird. Maybe Tony had snuck downstairs to play a video game or something. Rose went to check, deciding it would be perfect blackmail material since she had used up her “I saw Tony and his boyfriend shirtless and kissing” fact.

She was a bit surprised to find Jackie sitting on the couch, flipping mindlessly through a photo album. “Mum?” She asked quietly. Jackie jumped, looking back.

“Rose! What’re you doing awake? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. Well, yeah. Kind of.” Rose shrugged. “John did. Still is, actually, he hasn’t woken up. It bleeds over sometimes though, and his dreams are weird.”

As usual, Jackie went expressionless at the mention of John. Rose ignored it. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep.” Jackie shrugged, looking back at the photo album. Rose hesitated before going to join her. She was surprised to see it was pictures of her — from her eighth birthday, if she wasn’t mistaken. Jackie flipped the page to Rose blowing out her candles, and sighed. “Did you already know John by this point?” She asked. The question surprised Rose.

“This was the day the bond formed completely, I think,” she said quietly. “Remember the entire month before my birthday, I kept getting headaches? I think it was from the bond trying to form. John got headaches that entire month too. We’ve talked about it.”

Jackie kept her eyes focused on the picture, tracing her pinky along the tiny contours of her daughter’s face. “I don’t hate him, you know.” The out-of-nowhere declaration surprised Rose. She nearly said she had never thought Jackie hated John, but that was a lie and they both knew it.

“You act like it sometimes,” she said instead, and Jackie sighed.

“He just… he got so much of you, Rose. He’s known you for almost ten years and he knows you better than your father and I ever will. It’s a lot. We raised you, and we love you, and there are things about you we’ll never know or understand. But he does.”

It took Rose a moment to realize what her mother was getting at. “So you’re… jealous… of John?” She said slowly.

“Of course not!” Jackie protested, though after a moment her expression shifted from offended to almost a little ashamed. “Envious, maybe. It’s hard, feeling like you don’t understand your own daughter.”

“Mum…” Rose sighed, leaning over and hugging Jackie tight. “You don’t have to understand every little thing. I love you. And I know you love me. That’s all that matters, right?”

Jackie wrapped her arms around Rose, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Yeah. That’s all that matters.”

A bolt of fear ran through Rose’s mind as John jerked awake. Get fire! He yelled incoherently, and Rose bit down a laugh. The books are gonna get me!

The books aren’t going to get you, John. Go back to sleep.

John mumbled something even Rose couldn’t understand, and Rose felt him relax as he fell asleep once more.