#obviously I know he was already ostracized and there were a lot of other pieces to it

[what-in-procrastination]

thinking about the fact that bruno’s solution to protect maribel was to go live permanently with the rats in the walls instead of just, like, lying

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

You know what I want?

Domestic Stucky. In Westview. Hear me out.

(First of all, Endg*me can go fuck itself. Steve’s whole thing? Never happened. Forget about it. Wipe if from your mind. We’re rewriting that shit.)

(Also, this isn’t a fic even though I know it starts out looking like one lol. This is just stream of consciousness thoughts. I would put way more effort into actual writing)

The weeks after the final snap were hard. 

Bucky was back, and it felt like every weight that had been dragging Steve down for the past 5 years was lifted. He was mentally and physically exhausted, but his soulmate, his best friend, was at his side again, pulling him into a warm hug, tight and breathtaking. 

It was still hard; Steve was a very different man than he had been 5 years ago, but Bucky was calm and understanding. There was still much to mourn for, too. Tony and Nat were gone. Any sense of stability that had been established during those 5 years was immediately destroyed, and Steve was sure it would take many more years to try to fix the damage.

And Wanda. When Wanda was snapped back into existence, her grief was palpable. What had been 5 terrible years for him had been 5 minutes of bliss for her, relief that she wouldn’t have to try to live in a world without Vision. Steve knew the feeling. Even though he didn’t quite understand Wanda and Vision’s relationship (he was a robot?), he can’t really judge because he’s been pining after his childhood best friend for the better part of a century and still hasn’t managed to do anything about it.

To be brought back to life was the worst trick you could play on Wanda. Her sense of peace was snatched away from her and she was throttled back into a world that had nothing in it for her. Everyone she loved was dead. Her powers still deemed her a threat, even if she had played a crucial role in the fight against Thanos.

Steve wanted to be selfish and just run away with Bucky, but he couldn’t leave Wanda, who had become the little sister he never had.

He worried about her. Even as those who had been snapped away started to come to terms with the fact that 5 years had passed, Wanda wandered around, just a shell of her former self. Sometimes she fell into fits of rage and despair, using her powers to smash everything in her room at the compound or snapping at anyone who tried to distract her. Most of the time she was just blank.

Just a month after the return from the blip, Wanda strolls into the kitchen and announces that she’s going to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. Steve’s head snaps up. Her eyes are hard and determined, and Steve belatedly realizes that every muscle in her body is tense as she readies herself to fight anyone who tries to stop her. Sam is the first to speak up.

“Okay, kid,” he breathes out nonchalantly, “you need anyone to go with you?” Sam is good like that. Always knowing what to say to make someone feel comfortable and cared about, but not coddled.

“No,” Wanda grits out. A breath, and then, softer, “thank you.”

Glancing around to see if anyone else had any objections, Wanda walks out of the compound.

Steve lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding, but the room is still tense. He whips around to Bucky, eyes wide with concern.

Before he can even say anything, Bucky reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry. Come on, we’ll watch out for her.”

So, with a tight smile, Steve stands up and lets Bucky lead the two of them out.

It’s not until they are halfway down the street in an inconspicuous car, trailing a little ways behind Wanda’s red sedan that it occurs to Steve to ask what they’re doing.

“We’re just going to follow her to make sure she’s alright, pal. S.W.O.R.D. has Vision’s body, and it’s not a good idea for her to be alone, even if she thinks it’s best.”

“She’ll be mad if she realizes what we’re doing.”

“Good thing one of us is a reformed Russian spy,” he smirks.

Steve’s heart skips a beat at that familiar face, one that he hadn’t thought he’d ever see again, and blushes, ducking his head. If Bucky notices, he doesn’t say. They carry on in a comfortable silence.

As they pull into the S.W.O.R.D. parking lot, Steve watches Wanda march into the headquarters. He turns to Bucky, "Are we going to follow her in?"

"You can't, that's for sure." Steve scowls. "It's not entirely your fault, pal, but you're don't exactly blend in easily. But I'll go in to keep an eye on her if you want me to."

Steve considers the offer for the moment. As much as he wanted to watch out for Wanda, he knew that if she found out, it would hurt her more. She would think that he didn't trust her, and that he was following her to make sure that she didn't lose control of her powers and hurt people. He didn't want to make her feel more ostracized than she already was.

"No, we'll just wait," he says, shaking his head. His eyes never leave the entrance to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. 

The wait for Wanda feels excruciatingly long. Steve doesn't trust that S.W.O.R.D. is any better than S.H.I.E.L.D., and he honestly has no idea what they've been doing with Vision's body for the last 5 years. A renewed sense of guilt washes over him.  If he had tried to fight S.W.O.R.D. harder for Vision's body, Wanda wouldn't be here, fighting through her grief to see him one last time. After the snap, Steve didn't feel like he could waste his dwindling energy scrutinizing S.W.O.R.D's every move, but he now wishes he had. He could have spared her this pain. 

Sensing the anxiety bubbling up within him, Bucky reaches out, pulling Steve's hand into his own. "It's not your fault, Steve," he reminds him gently. Steve squeezes his hand in response.

Wanda walks out of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters 20 minutes later. She seems drained and tired, but her expression reveals nothing. They wait again before following her out of the lot.

When she turns right, away from the direction of the compound where he assumed she would return, Steve frowns. "Where is she going? The compound's the other way."

Bucky shrugs. "I guess we'll see."

Steve has no idea where they are until he sees a sign declaring "Welcome to New Jersey!" not far down the highway.

"What the hell is she going to Jersey for?" Bucky gasps, pulling a loud laugh from Steve's chest. It's absurd and ridiculous, but it reminds Steve of when they were kids in Brooklyn, shitting on the Yankees and the state's annoying accent, among the plethora of other abhorrent traits about New Jersey. Bucky starts laughing with him, shaking his head. 

They finally arrive in a small, run-down town called Westview. Steve can't imagine why Wanda would come here.

Her red sedan comes to a stop in front of an empty plot of land, and she steps out, clutching a folded piece of paper to her chest.

"Oh, Christ... Shit," Bucky mutters. Steve is about to ask what he's thinking when he finally sees Wanda's walls crumble. 

Her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs, and she falls to her knees with a cry of desperation. A red orb of her twists around her body and Steve shoves the door to the car open, desperate to get to Wanda. 

"Steve!" he hears Bucky cry out behind him, and it's the last thing he hears before Wanda's powers implode around her, and his vision is blotted with red.

Remember! Wanda made all of her characters in the hex as similar to their actual lives as possible to ease her control of them! SO, it's only natural that her powers would pick up on the fact that Steve and Bucky are very obviously pining for each other and put them in a loving relationship while they are in the hex. Since they are both under Wanda's control, their storyline would happen mostly independently from what we see in WandaVision. I wouldn't have there be any smut (since I'm not talented enough or comfortable writing it myself) so there wouldn't be any non-con or any serious dub-con while they are in the hex. The idea is that both of them want everything that they are made to do (be partners, hold hands, kiss, do other couple-y stuff), but they are concerned because they think the other would feel disgusted and not want it.

There unfortunately were not any gay characters on TV in the 50s and 60s, so I would write these two "episodes" with loose ties to other sitcoms from those decades and do some research into how gay couples lived during these time periods. Basically, reimagine my own 50s and 60s sitcoms with realistic portrayals of a gay couple.

For the other decades, I would then base their relationship off of those actually depicted in sitcoms from that time. 

It should be noted that, while I have actually watch a lot of old sitcoms, I haven't watched many of the ones I mention. If I every decide to write this, I would do a lot more research on these shows (and watch some episodes!)

70's - I would likely draw from Barney Miller, Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, and Soap.

80's - Roseanne is pretty iconic, but I would be a little hesitant to write it after all of the controversy a couple years ago. Love, Sidney may also work, but I don't know enough about the show.

90's - Will & Grace, of course! I don't know anything about Northern Exposure, but the little bit of research I've done suggests that also may be a source of inspiration.

2000 through early 2010s - It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Modern Family. (I loved The War At Home, but it doesn't really fit)

When Wanda releases everyone from the hex, Bucky and Steve had some serious miscommunication issues and angst. Both feeling exceedingly guilty about their actions, despite the fact that they had no control over them. They got a taste for what domestic life would be like together, and they are frustrated that they enjoyed it since they believe the other one did not. When Wanda explains that her powers gave everyone jobs, relationships and roles in society that were equally comparable to those they had in real life, Bucky and Steve both realize that the hex would not have put them in a relationship if it wasn't what the other also wanted. Yay! They make-up (and make-out, lol).

I seriously want to write this, but I really don't have the confidence that I will be able to execute it as I imagine it. If someone wants to work on it with me (be it we both write it or you just want to offer some brainstorming help/story guidance), I would be thrilled! Just so long as there isn't any pressure to get it done in a time crunch. I just want this writing experience to be fun! Also, if you are interested, I swear I’m a better writer than what was just exhibited, but I really only spent an hour or so on it, so it’s obviously not my best work.

Anyway, if you have any thoughts, suggestions, advice etc or just want to scream about WandaVision and/or Stucky, please feel free to PM me or stop by my inbox. It would make my day :) 

[wallwriterstuff]

A Stitch In Time || Alec and Jane and Reader||

Warnings: Mentions of poverty but mostly this is fluff

Word Count: 6429

Summary:  Alec and Jane are...going to school? As if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re constantly pestered by one irritating little human who clearly has no concept of self-preservation. Spending a winter in Forks was not how they had planned the end of their year to go, but winter traditions have changed since they were human, and they find the new ones aren’t all that bad.

It was well known that you didn’t anger the witch twins unless you wanted to die. First, there was Jane, whose temper was as quick to flare as though it were a match being struck. Alec was, in comparison, far calmer in outward appearance while he mentally plotted twenty steps ahead as to how best to exact his revenge for the displeasure caused to him. In both cases the victims of their anger met ruthless ends; it was merely dependent on which witch twin they had pissed off as to how swiftly the end came. With that in mind, one has to question what on Earth Felix and Demetri were thinking when they started sending the twins to school.

When Carlisle had entreated the Volturi to aid them in reclaiming their territory, Aro had agreed without a second thought to “aid an old friend”, as he had put it. None of the guard had any qualms about helping the coven (they had done them no wrong after all even if their way of life was rather strange) but they hadn’t expected it to be such an arduous process. The nomads who had taken over the Olympic Peninsula travelled in the usual small group but Demetri just couldn’t track them. He had caught the tenors yes, but the trail they left just…looped around. Somebody was clearly messing with his gift and enjoying watching him run about in circles, and it was taking a considerable toll on the tracker to try and figure out where the group was at any given time.

They had stayed at the Cullen’s house for the most part, Carlisle and Esme sending them the keys and alarm codes before they had arrived, and once the place was scoped out and found to be clean they had moved in post haste. The place was lavish, large, modern, and it allowed them to live in seclusion and comfort. It became their base of operations as they tried to track down these nomads. They were vicious and killing in droves, drawing attention to themselves and threatening the Cullen’s openly. Demetri was grateful for the encounter that Rosalie had had or else he would have had very little hope of finding a tenor to follow.

Then the Chief of Police had come past.

It was an unusual pattern, not at all a regular patrol route since it took him so far off of the main path, but fate had determined he was going to come their way and spot Alec and Jane just as they were headed back into the house after an afternoon walk. They had ran at a human pace, warning the others as they went, and by the time Police Chief Swan rang the doorbell they all had contacts in and was prepared to greet their unexpected guest. After a lot of explaining they had managed to convince him that they had rented the property while they worked abroad for a short period. Volturi Ltd. Was a legitimate company he could look up after all and the Secretaries were trained in how to handle inquiries into the company from the outside world. The only problem then was Alec and Jane. Despite being a thousand years of age, the twins still looked to be physically 14 at the most. Any self-respecting people would be sending their 14 year olds to school wouldn’t they?

Well, what else could they do at that point?

“Sister.” Alec placed a hand on her shoulder but couldn’t help the way his lips quirked upward in amusement. Her glare was fixated on a boy of small stature, with an ego twice his size. She wasn’t quite using her gift on him yet, but the boy had twitched a bit and was showing obvious signs of distress. Jane broke her gaze, turning to look at Alec with an expression that screamed of displeasure.

“I dislike him immensely.” She deadpanned.

“So I can see.” Alec murmured. They kept their voices so low nobody would hear them, and the teacher was so busy praising the know-it-all bully Jane had had her eye on he doubted she would see he was clearly not playing attention.

“I do not know how much more of this I can take. Ugh, look, Y/N is writing you another note, insufferable little-“

“Alec? Pssst.” your voice was so loud in comparison to theirs. He tried not to sigh, though he found your consistent need to bother them somewhat amusing when he was in better moods. Lucky for you, this moment was one of them. He let you whisper for him once more before he turned, raising an eyebrow at you. You stared ahead robotically, so obviously up to no good it made him wonder how anyone could ever think you innocent in that moment, and slid a piece of paper across the tabletop to him. Alec opened it up with a slight sigh.

Want to play tic-tac-toe with me?

He tilted his head slightly.

“What’s that?” he whispered. Your jaw dropped slightly and you hurriedly took the paper back from him, drawing out a 3x3 grid and drawing a circle on it.

“Noughts and crosses?” you murmured hopefully, wondering if he knew it by another name. Alec stared at the strange design with a furrowed brow.

“I’ve never heard of it.” He said finally, glancing back up towards the front of the room as the teacher asked for contributions to the discussion. You were absolutely screwed. You were still looking at the side of his head.

“I’m sure you know Y/N since you’re so keen to tell Alec all about it. Would you share with the rest of the class?” she asked, her eyebrows raised and expression screaming ‘I caught you’ despite her friendly tone. Alec stifled a laugh, enjoying your obvious discomfort as you stuttered for a response. Jane smothered a smile with her hand, a very human action she had picked up from you but didn’t realise. This was how they spent the majority of their days since they’d started school three weeks ago; lessons were boring and covered topics they already knew, and the children were cruel. Cruelty was nothing new to either of the twins but there had been some small part of them that had hoped that perhaps it would be different this time, that perhaps they were too different now they knew how to blend in better.

Of course, vampire teenagers in an otherwise human class was not going to be as discrete as they liked but there was just something about the twins sharp tongues and apathetic expressions that was not inviting enough for the other children to even pretend to be friendly – that and they were all teenagers in a small town who had grown up in their cliques since birth. Only you had bothered to welcome them with any sort of warm regard, and it was both tiresome and heat warming that at least one of the wretched little humans had tried. By the time they trudged into the cafeteria to sit with a tray of food they wouldn’t touch unless you forced them to, Jane was grinding her teeth in distaste. She was enjoying this even less than Alec was, though he put his twin’s rotten mood down to the need to hunt.

It was nearing December now and the winter months had brought with it even more rain that quickly turned to ice, with cold winds that stung human cheeks. Jane and Alec felt none of it of course but given the way your tray of food nearly toppled on top of the table with the violence of your shivering it was safe to say the humans did. The twins had guessed you weren’t from the richest family in the world, your clothes didn’t have the same labels as the other children did and were sometimes too big or too small, a little tattered or sewn back together with patches or mismatching threads in a shade that was similar, but not exact to the colour of the material.

“Here we go again.” Jane muttered for his ears only. You had sat with them at lunch every day for the past two weeks since you realised they often sat alone. Your wide Y/E/C eyes took them in, teeth chattering.

“How a-are you n-not cold?” you demanded, limbs trembling as you rubbed your hands together furiously in an effort to warm up. Your jacket looked thin, definitely not able to withstand the temperatures that had continued to drop throughout the day. The grey sky was threatening snow. Alec could smell what would be rain but had the fresher, sharper scent snow brought with it.

“Because it isn’t as cold as you think.” Alec answered. Not when your flesh is already frozen he tacked on mentally. You frowned.

“N-not cold? Are you insane?” you shook your head, ignoring your shivers for now to dig into your food. You always ate like you were starving to, and Alec sometimes wondered if you were getting enough to eat at home, but it wasn’t his place to ask. You had a hot chocolate today to, something you had clearly saved up to buy since he remembered you looking rather sad when you read the price beside it on the menu board the other week. It struck him that perhaps your kindness stemmed from your own perceived difference. You weren’t the same as the other children. You worked harder and were quite obviously poorer. Alec and Jane were the strange new kids. In some ways, your trio was perfectly compatible when it came to categorical ostracization.

“Are you?” Jane’s answer was curt but you tilted your head like you were genuinely considering the question.

“My brother says I am.” You shrugged, shovelling another forkful of mac and cheese into your mouth. If it tasted as bad as it looked, Alec pitied you greatly. Jane just blinked, looking slightly surprised.

“You have a brother?” she questioned. You hummed around a mouthful of food.

“He’s older than me, he g-goes to high school.” Your shivering had lessened a little, the food warming you up even if it did little else. The usual silence fell over you all then. You tended to fill the silence when you were done eating, usually with questions about why they weren’t eating and if they were sick, or simply trying to coax more information about where they’d come from out of them. Today the routine was interrupted by the snow Alec had predicted.  

“It’s here! It’s here! The first snowfall!” a young girl yelled, pointing back outside. A cacophony of noise made Alec and Jane cringe, their sensitive ears protesting against the sounds of scraping chairs and shrieking children, a thousand little feet thudding into the tile to reach the snow first as zippers on jackets whizzed up towards chins. Your eyes were sparkling, obvious delight on your face as you worked twice as hard to finish off the last of your mac and cheese. Alec’s eyebrows rose as you turned to your dessert next, the jello cup being ripped open.

“If you eat too fast you’ll make yourself sick.” Alec reminded you. You gulped, almost choking on your jello.

“I’s ‘no’.” your voice came out all garbled but Alec understood the general premise of it, his disapproval at your decision to go outside with the others obvious on his face.

“You were just complaining you were cold.” Jane huffed. You swallowed.

“But it’s the first snow! Come on! Come on you have to come! Please please please please please please please please-“

“My god we’ll follow you!” Jane snapped. You ignored her tone completely and jumped to your feet, whizzing to collect your things and clean up your tray. Alec watched you go with a shake of his head. Humans were such stupid little creatures. He knew you’d be freezing the moment you set foot outside but that didn’t deter you in the slightest. Neither, apparently, did their cold skin. With your warm hands enveloping theirs you dragged the twins outside into the snow. It was something they had seen before of course, but Alec and Jane had the added advantage of having enhanced eyesight. They could see every little snowflake as it fell, all its unique edges and shapes. Your arms flew outward as you span around, giggling all the while as you reached out and tried to catch a snowflake in your palm. Alec tilted his head as he watched you, Jane sighing quietly beside him.

“They seem so happy...they don’t even see the full wonder of the phenomena.” he mused. Jane was watching you with critical eyes, but Alec could see the slightest softening of her expression and guessed she was as fascinated with your reaction as he was. Your hands were far too warm too catch anything of course, the snowflakes melting upon contact with your skin, but your smile never once dropped and you kept trying again and again, your enthusiasm undeterred.

“They’re already shivering, and yet they carry on,” Jane observed, “Their determination is admirable though.” Alec chuckled.

“You almost sound fond.” He teased. She scoffed, shooting him a wry look from the corner of her eye.

“I’m about as fond of any of them as I am of those idiots picking us up later.” She sniffed. Alec had to laugh at that, even as you came running up to them rabbiting about snowmen and snow angels. You were trembling head to foot. With a small sigh, he shrugged out of his jacket and held it towards you. Your eyes widened.

“But y-you’ll g-g-get cold.” You said, teeth gnashing together noisily.

“You are already frozen. Just swap my jacket with yours.” He huffed.

“But-“

“Y/N.” his voice was curt, no nonsense, the same sort of tone he imagined his mother had once used on him when he was smaller. You obediently took his jacket from him and even though it wasn’t saturated with any sort of human warmth, the wool was thick and you snuggled down into it like it was a lifeline. Your own threadbare denim looked slightly ridiculous on him, too small and the fit all wrong, but Alec didn’t complain once. He held his hand out, knowing it would be cold enough for what he wanted to do, and in one go caught a snowflake he let you inspect to your heart’s desire.

“Softie.” Jane grumbled under her breath. He ignored her. What was the point of making themselves miserable at school? If they had to be here then they should try to make the best of it right? Besides, when you looked at him like that…how could he say no? You invoked some of his oldest, foggiest memories of a wide-eyed Jane staring up at him with awe and admiration, it felt like he was getting a second chance to be the big brother he should have been in that cold, snowy moment.

“Oh Alec! Isn’t it so pretty!” you cried. You can’t even see it he thought incredulously, though he still nodded in agreement. He really hadn’t been expecting you to hug him and he wasn’t quite sure what to do in reply either. Did he hug you back? His arms hesitated, not quite winding around you. His hands were awkwardly left bent outwards as if too touch you would be lethal. His awkward display only made Jane snort, smothering her laughter in her jacket as you bounced back from him and demanded that they all go the Jungle Gym. The bars would surely freeze your fingers and gloves were so slippery not many people were on them today, and those that were quickly disappeared when they saw Alec and Jane coming anyhow.

This was the day Alec blamed for your absence the following week.

You hadn’t bounced in like you usually did, hanging your jacket on the peg beside Jane’s, nor had you wished the teacher good morning when she called your name for the roll call. Truth be told, both twins were rather worried about you when you didn’t show up by the end of first period either, so much so, Alec decided to ask about you. Miss Destiel was a fairly nice woman, strict perhaps but she always found time for her students, so she greeted the two strange newcomers to her class with the same warm smile she gave everyone. Alec didn’t have to be Edward Cullen to know she was probably thinking of several different ways to get them out of her way as quickly as possible despite her friendly demeanour.  

“We want to know if you know where Y/N is.” Jane said, cutting straight to the point. She tilted her head.

“I see. You three are good friends, aren’t you? I see you together at recess a lot. You needn’t worry too much. Her mother called in to tell us she was sick, a little bit of a flu bug they think. She should be back by the end of the week.” Miss Destiel promised them. Alec let his disgust show on his face. A flu bug? Why did humans have to be so weak! It was the cold wasn’t it? It had seeped into your bones and tried to leech the life out of you. Dammit! If only you’d had a better jacket! Or maybe some gloves! Maybe you shouldn’t have been stupid enough to play outside in the snow with them…

You didn’t show up for another four days, and when you did return you drove them half mad with your sniffling and nose blowing and coughing. The other children were giving you dirty looks to, calling you germy and demanding you stay away from them in case you passed on your germs. Alec and Jane were not popular and neither were you, but you did have a few other friends beside them, even those children tried to stay away till you were better, and only one of them was apologetic about it. You were obviously disheartened by the whole affair and prodded at your food with a miserable expression.

“Cheer up, you don’t need to cry in that pie, it smells salty enough already.” Jane’s attempt at comfort was half-hearted at best but Alec was amazed she had even tried at all. You gave her a weak smile.

“I’m not feeling all that hungry.” You mumbled.

“But you always eat,” Alec frowned, “Even when they bring out that awful soggy pizza.”

“S’just the flu.” You sighed.

“Y/N you have to eat.” Alec reprimanded. He really wasn’t sure if you’d make it through the day without a little something in your system and was pleased when you forced down another few bites for him. You glanced at the clock through droopy, watery eyes. You really weren’t ready to come back to school today and it was obvious to both of them.

“I need to go get my medicine from the nurse. I’ll see you in class.” You sniffed, a tickle you tried to clear turning into a coughing spree as you walked away.

“We need to do something.” Jane scowled at her tray.

“We cannot make her better, sister.” Alec pointed out. Jane stared him down for a long moment, and then a smile twitched up her lips.

“Maybe not, but we can stop her getting sick again. Come on, help me.” She ordered. Alec raised his eyebrows but followed her lead, dumping his tray and heading back towards the classroom with her. He stood guard, hearing paper shuffling inside the room as Jane put whatever plan she had into action. He didn’t question it until Friday afternoon rolled around and Miss Destiel decided to read out the names of the secret Santa pairings one more time, at Jane’s request. Next Thursday was the last day of term before the Christmas break started and there would be secret Santa and some choosing time in the afternoon that neither twin was looking forward to.

“Alec and Y/N…huh? Debbie didn’t you have Y/N last time we read out the names?” Miss Destiel looked to the red headed girl for answers, but she just shrugged, uncertain. Alec smiled slightly.

“You switched the papers.” He murmured. Jane hummed, her face the picture of angelic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about dear brother, but I do have an ideas as to what you could get Y/N if you’re interested.” She was hardly done with her plan just yet though. Demetri wasn’t particularly surprised when the twins came marching towards him; they were often eager to get out of school, but the surprise lay in their demeanours. Usually he could count on a very grumpy Jane and a clearly exasperated Alec, but today they both looked determined. Jane brushed past him with all the regal stature of a woman who knew her self-worth, and Demetri raised an eyebrow slightly as he turned to face Alec.

“We have plans to attend to Demetri. We’re still headed to Port Angeles tonight are we not?” he questioned. Demetri nodded.

“We are, why?”

“We’re going to go earlier than planned. We have secret Santa obligations to fulfil.” He explained, ducking into the car. Demetri looked even more confused at that, but he didn’t dare question either twin as he headed for the driver’s side door. Wasn’t Santa always secret? Had he misunderstood human traditions? He didn’t know and neither Alec nor Jane cared enough to tell him. They were hyper focused now on their plan, a plan they hoped would ensure the health and happiness of the one human being they actually (though they remained very reluctant to admit it) liked. Secrecy was the very nature of their work and yet Alec’s tongue itched whenever he saw you, the secret on the tip of his tongue desperately trying to leap off into the air between you both. Jane struggled too, unable to hide her growing impatience as the week dragged on and your shivers grew worse, your sniffly nose a new, permanent feature on your face.

“Good tidying everyone. Nicky, tell me one thing you’ve learned today?” Miss Destiel snapped Alec out of his daydream and he sat up straighter, wanting to give the appearance of paying attention. Nicky was a smallish boy who had yet to have any sort of growth spurt apparently, all long gangly limbs and braces.

“Erm…After World War 2, they split up Germany and Berlin?” he sounded more like he was guessing than anything else and the twins fought the urge to scoff. How ignorant these little humans were.

“Yes they did! You can go and get your secret Santa present. Can you expand on Nicky’s point somehow Bridget?” Miss Destiel turned to the opposite side of the room now and Alec almost groaned when he realised what she was doing. One by one, they were left to answer questions in order to exit the room, and the process was excruciatingly slow given how stupid the small beings were. By the time the whole affair was over and everyone had a present in front of them, Alec’s fingers were itching at the colourful paper he’d wrapped your present in. Jane had watched multiple youtube videos to get the bow on top just right.

“Miss Destiel can we please give our presents out!” Debbie whined.

“Yeah please?”

“Please!”

“Please!”

“Let us give our presents Miss!”

She held up her hands, waiting for silence, and not until you could have heard a pin drop did she nod and motion for them to get up out of their seats.

You didn’t move.

Alec watched you with a small frown as Jane moved away to find Nicky in the sea of humans. She all but threw the small package at his chest, briefly thanking him in a curt and ice cold voice for the present he gave her in return before she gave him a nod, and the pair drifted with all the grace their vampirism allowed towards you. You only seemed to grow smaller in your seat, some wrinkled looking tissue paper wrapped around a lumpy looking package on your desk in front of you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Alec held out the parcel in his hand. It looked much neater in comparison, with shiny gold paper and a shimmering, expertly tied black bow. You swallowed, your fists clenching on top of the tabletop as you took a breath and gathered the courage to face him. Your eyes widened slightly.

“It looks so…fancy…” you fretted. Alec frowned, tilting his head.

“It’s just a present.” Alec said. You bit your lip, taking it when he shook it impatiently before you and carefully setting it on your desk like it was made of precious gold. He folded his arms, standing and watching expectantly as your shaky fingers lifted to try and untie the bow. Jane watched in surprise as you reverently unfurled the ribbon from the paper, making sure it didn’t crumple. You were equally as careful with the paper, a sharp exhale escaping you when you pulled it away to reveal the present within.

Your fingers brushed the thick, woolen fabric, shaky and unsure as you carefully unfolded the clothing and stood up to hold it before you. Your wide eyes looked over the shiny black buttons on the coat, your eyes drifting to the hallway where your own, threadbare denim hung still. You hadn’t taken off the hoodie you wore underneath all day in an effort to keep away the chill, but with your new coat you definitely wouldn’t need to wear triple layers just to stay warm anymore. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Is it not to your liking?” Jane asked confusedly.

“I thought you would want to be warmer given the cold weather.” Alec added. Had they got it wrong? Had your denim maybe got sentimental value they’d accidentally besmirched by giving you a new coat? They just wanted you to be warm! They didn’t like seeing you sick and shivering���

“This is expensive. You weren’t supposed to buy expensive things!” You fretted, but your fingers had curled into the fabric like you didn’t want to let go. Alec tilted his head.

“Y/N, this was hardly-“

“I can’t give you mine if you give me this! It looks so stupid and – and – it’s not – it’s not-“

“Y/N,” Alec gripped your shoulders with a troubled frown, “Our parents have more money than they know what to do with, spending a little of it to keep your warm is what we wanted to do for Christmas and we didn’t expect anything in return for it.” He said firmly. You sniffled, looking absolutely overwhelmed at the gesture. Neither twin could fully understand why. Sure, they had guessed you didn’t come from a well-off family but this reaction seemed extreme…then again, they couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have things. They had grown up farming, self-sufficiency meaning anything they didn’t have they grew or harvested to acquire it. Once they were turned, they had access to the Volturi’s vast treasury - money really had no meaning to them anymore.

Your fingers twitched for the lumpy package on the desk and Alec gave you an encouraging nod.

“I…they’re not…I couldn’t buy anything but, I wanted you to be warm to…so…so…” you stumbled over your words, your apparent shyness taking over. Alec and Jane had never known you to be lost for words. You were always chattering away at them, even when they were less than responsive. Jane’s eyebrows rose as you pulled out a second lumpy looking package with her name on, and the twins exchanged a glance as they felt the squishy, thick material through the thin paper. You had ducked your head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they pulled away the paper as carefully as they could. If you had been so intent on keeping theirs intact to recycle they would show you the same courtesy.

Alec blinked, and not just because the contacts were irritating his eyes. The thick and squishy material beneath his fingertips turned out to be black and blue, two colours he wore often as part of his charade since he couldn’t wear his guard uniform to school. The stripes of chunky knitting unfolded as he held them out into a long strip, the wool a little scratchy but soft, dense, designed to hold heat. Jane’s own red and black piece tumbled out of the paper towards the floor. They had seen them before of course, but with the slightly uneven width in places and a few missing stitches here and there, these were clearly homemade and not the fancy store bought ones they knew of.

You’d knitted them each a scarf.

He didn’t need it, he didn’t get cold, but Alec carefully wrapped the woolly scarf around his throat anyway. It warmed him in ways he couldn’t explain, his expression softening as he stroked the soft but scratchy material that dangled against his chest. Jane followed his lead, admiring the stitching with awe.

“You made these for us?” she asked. You nodded sheepishly.

“I know they’re not very good but-“

“They’re perfect.” Alec interrupted. Your fingers were still clamped around your new coat and Alec’s eyes rolled, taking it from you to force you into it. Your fingers trailed over the fabric, the buttons, a soft smile lighting up your face.

“Can I really keep it?” you asked quietly.

“Only if we can keep these.” Jane replied. You nodded, more enthusiastic now. Your Y/E/C eyes sparkled as you snuggled down in your new coat. Already Alec could see the colour returning slowly to your cheeks as your temperature rose, and he and Jane shared a nod of approval at the sight – it was a job well done. Alec and jane cared for very few people, none of them human until you came along, actually disappointed when they caught the nomads over Christmas and realised they couldn’t return to school to say goodbye to you properly.  

You’d pressed the call button hours ago.

When the tightness in your chest had began Tuesday night you were sure it was going to pass. It had rapidly gotten worse however, so much so your daughter had been forced to call an ambulance out to you. The hospital was doing all they could but the place was miserable. Nobody saw you unless it was to do your observations and the food tasted awful. Not that you really had an appetite of course given how weak you felt.

It had been three very long days.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll make yourself sick.” The voice seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. With a gentle sigh, you turned your head away from the window you were lucky enough to be near and found a young boy watching you, his eyes gentle and sad. Beside him stood an petite blonde girl, both of them with the deepest brown eyes and palest skin you had ever seen. You frowned slightly, the faintest itch in your brain telling you that somehow you knew these children.

“That’s very true young man,” You nodded finally, “Are you visiting someone? I think you have the wrong room.” He nodded slowly.

“We are visiting a friend, I don’t think she knows we’re here.” He said, head tilting. The small girl beside him sighed. You hummed.

“Well you can ask at the desk, they know all the rooms.” You coughed slightly, a bony, age spotted hand reaching for your water. Your mouth felt rather dry, or maybe the room was just warm. You didn’t feel warm though.

“Has nobody come to visit you?” the girl wondered, helping bring the water to your lips. Her touch was gentle against your own but her hands were freezing cold. You shivered involuntarily, sipping at your water in an effort to soothe your throat.

“My daughter and grandkids came yesterday, you don’t have to – to worry about me.” You frowned slightly as you swallowed again. You had found breath a little hard to come by recently and the oxygen running up through your nostrils was hardly any use now. The boy was gentle as he pulled your blanket up around your chest.

“I’m glad, you haven’t been alone. You won’t be now, either.” He promised. Your frown deepened. Why was the room so cold all over a sudden? Why did the lights seem dimmer? You chest rattled slightly as you tried to take in air, the oxygen making you choke a little. The small blonde girl stepped up, pulling a red and black scarf that looked like it had been worn often, the threads worn down. Once it was carefully looped around your throat she stepped back, her cold hand settling in yours while the young boy took the other one. The air was stuffier still, even the breeze from the slightly open window wasn’t helping now, and everything suddenly became so clear. It was like you had previously been sitting surrounded by static.

“Alec…Jane…”your breathed, eyes watering. They looked exactly the same, not a day older than the day they had left. You had been so excited to see them in January when school was finally in session again but they hadn’t been there, they’d moved away again.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s been a long time, old friend.” Alec smiled softly, though his expression remained saddened. Your eyes watered.

“It’s been 70 years.” You rasped.

“78 years, 5 months and 13 days, if you want to be precise.” Jane spoke up. Her voice and her face was as apathetic as you remembered it to be. It was her scarf, she had given you her scarf. 78 years and she still had it. Alec pulled a stack of letters from his pocket, and you recognised the spidery handwriting easily in your bizarre state of clarity. All the letters you had written to Volturi Ltd in the hopesof keeping in contact with your friends. It was Jane who gently wiped away the few tears that spilt down sallow, wrinkled cheeks. You were so old, but they were wondrously young, vibrant in their youth. You wanted to know how, but you sensed somehow you didn’t have the time for the explanations you wanted.

“There were a few important answers we felt we should give you,” Alec said, sitting beside you and opening the first letter, “Firstly, we are well, we are happy and we did miss you to. We miss very few people, it surprised our masters when we requested to come and visit you.” You croaked a laugh. It was hardly surprising from what you remembered of the twins; even your friendship with them was strained at points, but they were hardly palatable to most in your class. Alec continued to scroll through the letters, and you suspected he knew with every answer he and Jane gave you that you were running short on air and time with every word he spoke.

When your lungs were really starting to battle for air you couldn’t quite stop the tears from coming. You wanted more time. You wanted more time with your old friends to try to understand why they left, why they were still so long. Maybe they weren’t even real, but the way their hands felt in yours was so realistic you doubted you could imagine it.

“I…d-don’t want…to go.” You struggled to get the words out, your heart trying to hard and your lungs ready to give up. Even if your mind was desperately pleading with it to hold on your body was clearly ready.

“Sometimes, it is simply our time, little human.” Alec said softly.

“Please don’t think less of us for not calling a nurse or a doctor. We think it’s kinder this way. You’re ready, even if you don’t think you are.” Jane promised, giving your hand the lightest squeeze.

“My g-grandaughters…she’s graduating i-in March…”you whispered. Alec soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

“She will keep you with her I’m sure…you’re quite difficult to forget, you know,” He smiled gently at you.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N.” Jane said. There was a darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision as your heart finally gave way in your chest, and Alec watched as you desperately fought for one last breath, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly while the light in your eyes died. Your heart monitor was screaming, the noise was going to attract someone very quickly they were sure, but they had finally gotten the goodbye they had been deprived of all those years ago.

“Will you take your scarf back with you sister?” Alec asked as they stood up and quickly cleaned away the letters and any other trace they had ever been there. Jane paused briefly, staring back at your frail body. You were much older now, still as skinny as they remembered, but any colour was stripped from your hair and replaced with grey. She very gently closed your vacant eyes, unable to keep looking at the empty Y/E/C, and shook her head.

“No, she’s still cold.” She frowned. Alec placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, his ears picking up the sound of feet thudding on the tile outside.

“We need to leave.” He said. Jane nodded her head.

“Lets.”

They disappeared as quickly as they came, Demetri waiting for them beside a Sedan with tinted windows. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly as they approached but neither twin said anything, so he didn’t either. He had felt the familiar tenor fade as you passed, he knew what they had come to do now, understood it even. Every winter Alec and Jane had worn those threadbare scarves, even when the wool had faded and it was clearly past the prime of its life. You had made a lasting impression on the witch twins, a friend they had made without any interfering influence from the masters or Chelsea or any other outside force. Alec stared at the hospital getting smaller in the rear view mirror. They wouldn’t go to your funeral, they had said their goodbyes to you today, and until the last thread unravelled, he would always have his scarf to remember you by. You had been stitched into the very fabric of whatever was left of his soul, where you would always be, to keep him warm when his heart threatened to turn cold once more.  

[sokkable]

Last week I shared how for the last two years I have attended a school with past/present notable alumni including billionaires, actors, and politicians. People are highly requesting me to reveal tea from my school so here’s the post. Obviously I could be wrong about certain details, this is just what I’ve heard through the grapevine:

*Also if you go to this school, please don’t reveal what school this is because lmao I want to be anonymous lol

At my school there are different groups of kids. There’s the popular local rich kids (rich as in multimillionaires to billionaires), I am not in the PLRK group and there’s a lot of tea within that group that I don’t know about. Apparently a lot of them are related (like cousins idk to what degree though) and the people in that group hook up a lot though to my knowledge the ones who are related don’t hook up. These kids also go on to attend Ivy League schools BTW.

There’s also the popular foreign kids group (some are upper middle class, some are the children of teachers, some have their tuition paid by the company their parents work for). The PFK group are also heavy partiers (they go to the clubs and house parties and their parents are chill with it). I am not in this group either but I know theres A LOT of tea.

There are other groups as well however they don’t have notable tea LMAO.  

Stories:

There was this guy we’ll call him Liam. Liam was new to the school and made it into the PFK group. However about a month or two in, he said something ill-mannered to another PFK (I have no idea what he said). Then that kid hired someone to beat Liam up (keep in mind that Liam himself had diplomatic immunity, and really shouldn’t have been touched at all). Liam ended up chipping his front tooth in the fight and he was ostracized from the PFK group.

Another kid, we’ll call him Noah, was also in the PFK group. He may have been a drug dealer as well though I am fuzzy on the details. He had beef with people from the PLRK group. So the PLRK guys all agreed to stay sober (no drugs) for a few months, knowing that Noah was still taking drugs. Then those guys planted drugs in pill form in Noah’s backpack and went to the Vice Principal and ratted him out on having drugs on him. Noah was immediately expelled from school and deported back to his home country of England. Noah’s parents were teachers at the school and continued to teach even after Noah left.

I was in my English class and this really kind girl sat next to me and we became friends fairly quickly. She was so genuine and friendly and normal that I never really spent a lot of time thinking about her background. It wasn’t until maybe halfway through the year when I found out that she is part of one of the richest families on the continent. It was honestly really shocking because I always expected billionaires to entitled and snobby but she really is the opposite. She invited me and another girl to her house for her birthday and I remember feeling so out of place because her house is like a piece of art and I’m trash lmao. Moral of the story ig: don’t judge a book by its cover

One of my best friends’s parents are filmmakers and own a production company and they’ve made high budget movies. My friend took film during her upperclassmen years and she also inherited the genes to make amazing movies because her short films are wonderful. She made a short film starring her aunt (who is an actress with millions of followers on instagram) and my friend submitted it to film festivals and ended up getting to travel overseas to meet other young filmmakers.

Last year I took dance and I met this girl and it turns out she’s an aspiring/already successful singer. She was on The Voice Kids (of the country I live in) and got pretty far in the competition and now she has a big following on social media, has original music out, and got to perform at a music festival recently.

I don’t have a list of all the big alumni that attended this school (I only have what the internet tells me) and a very prominent TV actress that 90% of y’all would recognize attended this school for like 12 years which is wild. She never visited though :/. I was also part of my school’s film club and the supervisor told me that people who have worked with like Rihanna and Steven Spielberg graduated from this school and they judge our short films for our school’s film festival.

OOF, my school had this very very very prominent scandal that happened when I was in middle school. This scandal was so big that it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that all principals and superintendents from around the world heard about it. This scandal left like half a dozen people in federal prison.

It’s a tradition for seniors from my school to vacation at this nice island (think Fiji, Tahiti, Bora Bora) during spring break by themselves without parent supervision. This trip was hyped up so much and people were so excited to go, people had already bought their tickets, rented their villas, and were in the midst of getting their fake ID’s when coronavirus happened so obviously the trip was cancelled. I’m still salty not gonna lie.

Ummmmmm, there’s more tea but I’ve been writing this for almost an hour and I’m tired so I’m gonna stop here. But this was like a sneak peak at my school. I want to be clear tho: I really am not rich and I don’t have any famous relatives and there are no politicians in my fam. My only flex in life is that I dmed Dante Basco once and he replied

[orbitariums]

What, You Didn’t Miss me?

for venusbarnes 5k challenge!! i'm gonna be doing a bunch of these but i just decided i wanted to write something different than what i usually lean towards for this :)

i also wrote a loki imagine called idoru! very angsty but cute :)

#6:  “what, you didn’t miss me? i’m hurt.”

reader is thor's rival/fling thing. you've fought & battled each other hundreds of times, but nothing can compare to the energy you two have. but you've gone a while without seeing him, and he's honestly relieved he doesn't have to put up with it anymore - until he sees you again. *reader's bi cuz she's that bitch, and kind of like valkyrie*

warning: toxic! (but it's really not that deep, considering they do b fighting a lot), fight scene!

also: i would listen to THIS playlist while reading this!!! i was listening while writing, made it so enjoyable.

    You were what they called a "wild child." Graceless, rebellious, brave to the point of stupidity. You were full of rage, a warmonger with no remorse. In your kingdom you were admired for your bravery and physical ability and looked down upon for your "unwomanly" tendencies and your recklessness. You weren't alone in this though - you had a group of women with you who operated as a team, all of them ostracized because of their resistance to submitting. Together, you were unstoppable.

     There was also Thor. He admired you for your brutal honesty, your unabashedly flirty demeanor, and for your fighting abilities. To him, you were like the lady version of him, only not so lady like, and much less cautious, if that was even possible. You were chaotic and wild in combat, and he knew this first-hand. Thor had been at the mercy of your rage many times, and you had seen the force of Mjolnir much too close for comfort. Sometimes you fought for a reason, other times you fought just because you felt like it. For as long as you could remember, Thor had always been your otherworldly enemy... rival was a better word for it.

     But perhaps the best part of your rivalry, besides the satisfaction of beating down the god of Thunder on the times you did win your battles (because, really, you did beat him sometimes, and it felt good), was the flirtatious nature that lay within it. You couldn't doubt that sparks flew when you and the god were together, even when fighting you found yourselves closer to each other than necessary. And outside of a fight, your titillating banter was enough to make heads turn-- tongues soaked with whiskey, hot breath against the other's neck, narrowed eyes matched with rosy lipped smirks that said: "you really wanna do this right now?", sarcastic and degrading humor. It was all a part of the program. Thor rotated women on a weekly basis, as did you with the women and men back on your kingdom, but the relationship he had with you was different.

    No one challenged him like you did, no one was snarky like you were - women joked about Thor submitting to them, but none of them had the power to actually manifest that, other than yourself. He liked that he wasn't exactly intimidated by you, but that you made your worth and your ability rather clear. He knew you weren't "easy" in a fight, and you wouldn't back down. For a while, you steered clear of Thor while you got your own life together. And for that while, it was quiet... too quiet. You were glad to be given a reason to stir things up again. And boy, was Thor in for a surprise.

    You smeared black liner on your waterline (stolen from a Walgreens on Midgard - you liked their makeup more, it was low quality and gave you a cheap, uncouth look that you cherished - not like makeup on your planet, which made you look exactly like what you were... a warrior goddess), and looked in the mirror. Well, what remained of the mirror after you had smashed it. You held a piece of broken glass in your hands and leaned in towards it, your reflection wonky and distorted. You were sitting in your dim-lit, unfurnished (purposefully) bedroom with your friends - the warrior women who you considered your sisters.

    "Thor's in for a lovely surprise today," you sang in monotone, applying more dark pencil liner below your waterline. You quickly rubbed a dark purple lip on and puckered up, raising your eyebrows at yourself in the mirror.

     Mira shook her head playfully and sighed,

    "Honestly, YN, I've known you for years and it still strikes me how crazy you are."

    "Thor's a player, anyway. We know how he is with women... do you really need to fight him?" another one of your sisters, Amina questioned.

     You turned around, huffing defiantly and gripping your sword at your side,

    "Look, it isn't about that. I don't care if Thor wants to bang a fucking dwarf, and with his streak, he probably has. It's about respect. I don't go around flirting with Loki. How dare he invade our honor and try to pick up one of my sisters! It's nothing personal, Lydia, honestly. I think Odinson just forgotten the boundaries."

     Lydia, one of your sisters, the "victim" of Thor's heavy flirting, who had resisted because there was an unspoken but obviously clear rule that Thor was not to ever try to play with one of your sisters, for the purpose of respect. You didn't want him to see your sisters as easy targets or see them as the various women he went through every day of the week. You had all agreed on such a rule, so it wasn't like you were just bossing everyone around. And as for your flirtationship with Thor, that was different. Thor knew better - he knew you could handle him just as well as he could handle you. And for the most part, you were in control.

   Lydia shrugged, continuing her crotchet pattern - she helped make outfits for all of you. You all vowed to be self sufficient. She didn't seem to mind the situation much,

    "Listen. I say go for it. It's been a while. Shake things up again."

You smiled, glad someone understood you,

    "Thank you, Lydia. Right then, I'm off. See you after I ravage him."

| | |

    Back at Asgard, Thor was living his best life. He was breezing through the days, lounging on his throne with multiple women around him daily, feeding on grapes they hung above his lips, getting drunk every night, all while performing his kingly duties. He had let go of the tension you caused him- while he enjoyed his encounters with you, it gave him a lot of unconscious stress to be constantly thinking of when you might next attack. But it had been a while since you last arrived to stress him out, and so he relaxed, and he forgot about you, just a bit.

    But that was before you decided to pop back in again, stomping into the golden room where you saw Thor sitting with one leg up on the throne, women chattering to him and leaning on him, fawning over him. The sight would've made you sick if you weren't already so preoccupied with your rage. You paused in front of the stairway to the throne.

    "ODINSON!!!" you let out a roar that let him know you were here, because he was so distracted by the presence of the women. He almost jumped, and his heart sank when he saw you - weeks of tension returned to his body.

    "Oh shit," he said under his breath, and you smirked, folding your arms and cocking your head at him.

     "What, you didn't miss me? I'm hurt," you gave him a faux pout and then you were back to teasing, your eyes squinted and your lips turned up into a devious smile.

Thor groaned loudly, banging his fists on the arms of his throne. The women surrounding him began to scatter.

    "Why are you here!" he roared.

    "No," you raised your voice at him, "the question is, why are you trying to seduce my sisters? Hm?"

Thor's face went taut and you could see the guilt all over his face. He understood your agreement, and he knew there would be consequences for breaking this agreement. He just didn't think about it until now. You folded his arms, leaning forward,

    "You thought I wouldn't hear about that, did you?"

    "YN, I-" he began stuttering, and nothing coming out of his mouth was making any sense.

     "Yeah, go head and shut the fuck up for me," you cut him off, your tone final - you'd had enough of his bullshit. Thor's lips shut closed immediately. "Gods, you asshole. We had an agreement! Did we not?"

    Thor found this the perfect time to take a dig at you, a knowing smirk playing at his lips as he straightened up in the throne,

    "Sounds awful personal, YN, I mean, it really seems like you took this to heart." You folded your arms annoyedly, already anticipating what he was insinuating. He licked his lips and pulled his lips underneath his teeth. "Jealous much? Are you jealous, YN?"

You didn't answer, just gave him that death stare that told him you weren't here to chit chat right now. He sighed deeply and held his arm out, reaching his hand out into the air,

     "Yup, I got it."

Mjolnir came flashing by and into his hands, and immediately you lunged forth, jumping all the way to the top of the stairs and in front of him on the throne, the two of you clashing. You held your spear out, but Thor blocked it with his hand and knocked it down with his hammer. You scoffed, looking down at your damaged spear on the ground and laughing,

    "That the best you got, king?"

That lit a fire in Thor like no other - not only was it a major turn on for you to call him king, even if it was within an act of defiance, but the mockery was enough to make him black out. He swung his hammer at you and you ducked, bouncing back up just in time to kick him in the face and send him flying backwards, knocking his hammer out of his hand and on the floor away from him.

     "Oh, I do love this!" Loki quipped excitedly as he walked past, and you greeted him joyously - where you and Thor were rivals, you and Loki were twin flames. Thor found your relationship annoying. Every once in a while you'd come to Asgard just to hang out with Loki, scrapbooking and being unusually domestic. He almost wished for a fight when he saw you and Loki hanging out and wreaking havoc.

     "Hey, Loki!" you turned to wave at him, and then got right back to business, pouncing forward like a cat and landing on top of Thor - specifically on top of his lap. You chuckled viciously and held his chin in your hand, lifting it up and wrapping your hand gently around his throat. Neither of you could ignore the erotic nature of your violence. You licked your upper lip like a hungry wolf. "Where's your hammer now, casanova?"

    Thor reached out and Mjolnir was right at his service again.

    "Right here, darling."

A spark of lightning flew out and struck you, sending you flying and laying feet ahead of him on your back, coughing from the impact of the fall. Now Thor stood above you, his height both menacing and alluring, towering over you. Cockily, he blew the tip of his hammer.

    "Anything else?"

    "Yeah," you mumbled, a bit dazed from your fall. "Stop trying to slobber on my sisters!" you kicked your legs up directly at his crotch, and he stumbled back, falling onto the floor in a sitting position, his knees bent towards himself. 

       You grinned victoriously, and picked yourself right up, walking towards him and assuming the same position you had been in before, lowering yourself slowly down onto his lap, one leg on either side of him, the same narrowed, cheeky look in your eyes as before. Thor gazed up at you, in a daze only you could pull out of him, raised eyebrows and glazed over amazement in his eyes and all.      

    "Tap out," you demanded, folding your arms over your chest in such a way that diverted Thor's attention to your body.

    "You know I can't pay attention when you're on top of me like that," Thor sighed, his voice low and husky. You fought a grin off your face, but couldn't hide it completely, your voice steady and methodical,

    "I know."

Thor tapped the ground beside him to insinuate he was done, forfeiting - it happened often that you or Thor tapped out, considering your fights weren't all that serious and were sort of like a game you liked to play. You made a move to get off of him, but he pulled you down by your waist, making you stay.

     "No, stay here," he whined, and you laughed, throwing your head back.

     "You'll stop hitting on my sisters, then?" you inquired, raising a suspicious brow.

     "Not if it means this is what will happen," Thor shrugged. "Really though, you never answered my question." You raised your brow, waiting. "Are you jealous?"

You snorted, though you didn't feel the need to lie,

    "Perhaps a little bit of me wants you all to myself," you batted your lashes at him and ran your hand along his chest. He gripped your waist harder, a determined look settling on his face,

    "I as well."

You shook your head playfully.

     "Oh, Odinson." You leaned forward to place your lips upon his, and he craned his head up so your lips could meet. But you pulled away, just enough so your lips were barely brushing against each others, then gently pushed his chest down, making him lower his head onto the floor again, your lips still hovering above his. You granted him a teasing smile, a knowing look in your eyes as you stared him down. "One day," you said, and vanished, teleporting away from him and back to your own kingdom.

One day!

[wrinkledparchment]

snake eyes;

Summary: Growing up with one normal, human eye and another as that of a serpent’s as a result of your soulmate, you grew to be self-concious of your eye and hid it from the world. When you’re forced to reveal it, what will happen? 

Word Count: 2,151

A/N: This was NOT meant to be this long but my absolutely-in-love-with-Crowley ass really jumped out and decided to go hard so, uh, yeah. Have fun y’all. 

Warnings: Hella Angst, Blood, Descriptions of Injuries, SOULMATE AU

Taglist:  This is for that one anon and also! @rk900 because Soulmate AU! Crowley makes my heart soft and you wanted me to tag you!! // @obsiidio annabelle i’m love u

you’d already tried to convince yourself it was worth it; it was absolutely not.

they’d call you snake eyes, with no regard for your real name at all. ostracized all your life by everyone, you’d stare into the mirror for no reason at all. one of your eyes was yours, hopefully, and it was quite striking. a beautiful color. 

your eye got no attention at all. your left eye, the one your soulmate harbored, was that of a snake’s.  golden yellow and crested by a fiery, somewhat deeper shade with black slits. they were terrifying, something of a nightmare. 

all your life, you’d wished you could manage to hate the person--or rather, thing--that had cursed you with a snake eye, and you had gotten very close. you’d changed schools numerous times as a youngster, wore sunglasses almost every day, and the only people involved in your life as of now that knew of your snake eye was your parents. 

but now, as you stood in front of your armoire, eyelids puffy and irritated from your crying, you had broken the pair of sunglasses. they laid on your marble countertop--which had a few shards of tinted glass scattered about--in half. 

you wanted to stop hiding, you wanted to find them, and though years ago, you’d wished so only to give them a piece of your mind and scurry off with your normal, human eyes, you understood. 

maybe they were ostracized too, perhaps they weren’t human and having a very obviously human eye caused others to be disappointed, or scared. 

they were your soulmate. even with their serpentine eyes, they were meant for you. and that had to count for something, right?

but god. they were your soulmate, and their serpentine eyes were hellish. they haunted you, around every corner, in every place you walk. that, was the real issue. 

it wasn’t what you thought, or what they thought, or hell, what your parents and friends thought. it was what your soulmate was. 

frightening . . . hellish . . . demonic.

your soulmate wasn’t even a fucking human. 

what if they were a dragon? for all you knew, they could be an alien race and you wouldn’t even meet them, ever. you’d be stuck with this snake eye and it’s consequences for your whole life and you wouldn’t even get to meet them. 

in a moment of confusion, pent-up frustration, and fiery, pure rage, you thrust your fist and straightened your arm just enough to punch and shatter the mirror of your armoire. 

pain seared through your knuckles as fractals of glass dug into your skin and scattered over the marble countertop. you didn’t even flinch, and besides the resounding echo of a crack heard in your bedroom, the only sound was a single drop of crimson landing on one mirror shard. 

you pulled away your hand slowly, careful not to move your feet so you wouldn’t step on a sliver. there was another red stain on the mirror, and not only two seconds after you’d punched it, you regretted it. 

you had smashed the mirror, hard, and you’d need tweezers and a steady hand if you’d actually like to get the splinters out, and even then it’d still be a miracle if you didn’t have dotted scars all over your knuckles. 

you wouldn’t be able to drive, and the nearest urgent clinic was on the other side of the village. there was, however, a hospital that had been burned down about eleven years ago and was partially used as a paintball course, but it would do.

hastily slipping on sandals, you walked with your wallet in your working hand to the hospital. you let your head fall down to the ground, remembering halfway there that you had broken your only pair of sunglasses. 

snake eyes--of course.

you heard machine gunfire, obviously coming from the paintball fight currently going on. being cautious of getting shot with paint (hopefully, it sounded menacingly real), you kept your eyes down before entering the hospital. 

hearing soft voices down a hallway, you followed them, all the while managing to keep your head down and hopefully not bump into anything. “Master Crowley!” you heard Mary speak, and without thought, you lifted your head and called for her. 

“mary?” with a start, she twirled around suddenly and moved slightly to the left, revealing a tall man in dark clothing and sunglasses that looked just like your old, broken pair. 

instantly, it felt like everything in your world clicked. though his face wasn’t quite visible, it was chiseled and he had auburn hair that shone in the light of the partially broken window. the hand you’d been clutching with your other fell to your side, and immediately mary, your old friend, rushed over to you. 

“what happened to your hand, [name]?” she questioned and picked it up to examine, seeing the shards of glass stuck in your skin as blood still trickled out of your open wound. 

“i punched a mirror,” you mumbled, still not taking your eyes off of the man who hadn’t turned away from you. only until a shorter, blonde man cleared his throat did you look away, though you’d gottten lucky, as crowley hadn’t gotten a good look at you yet.

he had a tan coat on, and was a lot less... dark than the other who, based on observation, seemed to be named crowley. quickly, after looking to the other man, you remembered your eye. 

looking back down to your hands, which were being cradled by mary’s, your stomach churned. this was the first time you had been out in public without your sunglasses for some time, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. 

“you punched a mirror?” she repeated, raising her eyes up in attempt to meet your own. obviously, she had a clue why. mary was not completely oblivious, though almost always anxious, so she knew it had something to do with your soulmate’s eyes. 

you refused to meet her gaze, ashamed of what you’d have to show her if you did, so you closed your eyes instead. “that’s what I said; it was just a silly mistake. if you could, can you grab some tweezers and bandages and help me out?” 

mary turned back to ‘master crowley’, still not letting go of your hands, before nodding and walking back to her office, leaving you alone with the two strange men. Open your eyes, you opted to stare at the floor, mumbling a small hello. 

the man in a nicely kept, unwrinkled tan coat stepped forward. “hello [name], i’m aziraphale, and this is crowley. Were you--perhaps, are--a nun of the Order that used to operate here?” 

“i wasn’t, but mary was. it seems you already knew that, though? Uh, sorry for interrupting, i- it’s nothing I just needed mary’s help with something-” you began to stutter, obviously feeling the tension in the air as you brandished your hand and still didn’t raise your head to make eye contact. 

“why in hell would you think it’s a good idea to punch a mirror?” crowley suddenly spoke up, effectively putting a stop to your ramblings. his voice, for some reason, shockingly put you at ease, despite his harsh words. 

“i didn’t, it’s just- i’m very self-conscious about my eye, or rather, my soulmate’s,” you explained as if that wasn’t obvious. there was hum on aziraphale’s end, as if he understood very well. 

“that’s why you won’t look at me, then?” crowley asked, knowing the answer, before you nodded your head dumbly. 

“normally, I wear sunglasses but i broke them this morning,” you explained, again, though they didn’t need to know. before you could stop yourself, you continued with a mumbled: “on purpose.”

mary walked back in quickly, and as an instinctual reaction, you raised your head to look at her, making eye contact. She dropped the whole box of first aid with a loud crash, and you hid your eyes quickly again. “goodness me, [name].”

“now you understand why you’ve never seen me without sunglasses,” you stated, voice falling sadly. The air felt heavy in your lungs, and you turned to leave, just like you’d done every other time someone had seen your eye. 

mary, though, was quicker and had picked back up the First AID kit, and grabbed your hand, yanking you back to her with a harshness you didn’t know she had. “[name], look at me.” 

you turned your head, looking over your shoulder before she took your chin into her hand gently, and turned it towards her. you squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to look at her. “please,” she whispered. 

it was soft, gentle, and friendly, and the two outsiders couldn’t help but watch. aziraphale nearly teared up at the scene, as your eyes suddenly flit open. crowley swallowed down a gasp, because he immediately recognized those eyes. 

because your left eye, the one that was supposed to be your soulmate’s, matched his right; your right eye matched his left, and though he’d made eye contact with you for a millisecond, he had sunglasses on. eyes would only switch back when true, unfiltered eye contact was made. 

you, a girl who had just walked into a paintball facility with a hand of bloodied knuckles, who had just supposedly punched a mirror, was his soulmate. on top of that, he was in the middle of trying to find the antichrist, and, chances are with how many issues you had with your soulmate’s eye, you hated him.

“you’re more than just a set of eyes,” mary murmured, and he saw a single tear slip down your face, before mary could wipe it away. “your eye is something beautiful, [name], and it’s not permanent.”

you nodded, and mary then set down the first aid kit on the windowsill, searching through it before she picked out some tweezers and a disinfectant wipe. crowley, though, decided to step forward. 

his stomach churned, making eye contact with aziraphale, as they both knew what this meant. “mary, I can take care of it,” he stated, plucking the tweezers from her hand and stepping closer to his soulmate. 

before he began though, he took off his sunglasses and his eyes met yours. With an audible gasp, you saw each other, truly saw, before going completely blind as your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 

doubling over, your bloodied hand grasped for his calloused one, squeezing as hard as you could. you saw stars in your shut eyes, showing only an all-black yet somehow colorful vision. There was a resounding silence in the previously burned-down hospital hallway.

crowley opened his eyes, his vision slowly returning normal as he murmured, “darling, you probably shouldn’t be holding my hand, you’ll get the glass deeper into your skin.”

you stood up straight now and opened your eyes. his eye set was now complete with both snake eyes, fiery amber with two black slits. yours, in his vision, were also completed; puffy, red and irritated from crying but still captivating, still starry and wonderous. 

without a warning, crowley looked into your eyes and could infer everything about having a demon’s eye. he was sure that you’d been bullied, that you were insecure, that you’d been through hell and back.

there was a painful, nauseating twist in his gut. guilt. “i’m sorry,” he murmured quietly, breath fanning over your face. your eyes welled up with tears again, and you shook your head. 

“don’t apologize, my dear.” Crowley didn’t look convinced, his eyes, despite being serpentine, held remorse, and sadness. You had never felt something quite like the swelling in your throat at his desperate look, never felt more pained in your life. “There is no need to apologize.”

“I wasn’t even supposed to have a soulmate, I’m a demon, and demons don’t have souls. I shouldn’t have. It’s my fault for wanting a human body.”

“Well, I want a soulmate, and you’re it. You’re the one stuck with me,” you mused, attempting to lighten the mood. Crowley gave a feeble smile in response and you closed your eyes and looked down again. 

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked, suddenly light again too. He picked up your intertwined hands, sliding his own out from under yours as he carefully picked out the glass with his tweezers. 

Through your eyelashes, you looked up at him as his brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, you felt wanted. You felt cared for, and your swollen throat suddenly no longer felt so swollen, and the worries of tomorrow, your twisted gut, even the pain in your bloodied knuckles floated away. 

Crowley, a man you’d just met, your soulmate, hadn’t made you fall in love with him yet. You barely knew him still, but you felt comforted and safe. Crowley, you decided, would be stuck with you. 

Even his frightening, serpentine eyes held love, and you knew that yours did too.

[not-close-to-straight]

Shadowed Hearts/Winter Souls (Chapter Eleven)

MASTERLIST

**********************

Breakfast was a rushed affair the next morning, supply lists drawn up and handed out between bites of toast and plans made around sips of bitter coffee.

Natalia turned over all her coin to Samuel and Ronin when they went to the rooms to pack their over night bags, but only after Tony pointed out that their show of wedded bliss would be more convincing if the rich husband was handing out the money. 

“Antonio, I didn’t marry you for your money!” Natalia reminded him teasingly and Tony’s voice was just the edge of frosty when he replied, “No, you married me because I was pretty enough to be a convincing alibi and desperate enough not to ask many questions. My wealth is only a bonus, isn’t it?” 

He smiled to soften the words but it wasn’t quite enough to erase the bite in his tone and Natalia pursed her lips in confusion, her next words carefully measured. “And what a lovely bonus it is, darling, though not the reason we want you to stay.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not the reason at all.” Tony’s eyes went to the door when James stepped through, his gaze lingering over the stretch of the soldier’s shoulders and down to the line of James’s hips. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Antonio.” Natalia put her hand on his arm before he stood. “Are you alright? I didn't mean anything by the comment about your money, but you seem upset all the same.” She inclined her head in the barest motion towards James. “Is there a reason you are being particularly stiff and irritable this morning?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous." A streak of red painted Tony’s cheeks, but he still waved Natalia’s question off. "You’ve just forgotten how stiff my manners can be. I was raised practically noble you know. What you see as irritable, others see as evidence of class."

“Well, you were sort of a bore when I snatched you from that party, weren’t you?” Natalia’s mouth was still set in an uncertain line as she sent another look at where James was talking with Samuel. “But irritability or manners aside, no one expects you to put on airs today, not even with the amount of money you’ll be spending, do you understand? No need to pretend. About anything.”

“I’m not pretending about anything.” Tony slid fine gloves onto his hands and shrugged into his warmer coat. “And I think you should stop worrying.”

Stop meddling is what Tony meant, the censure evident in his posture. “Antonio.” Natalia tried again, keeping her voice low so it didn't carry to the men at the door. "I just don't want you to worry about James. He is more discreet than his terrible attitude would suggest and--”  “Natalia.” Tony’s eyes flashed in a clear warning for her to back off. “I might be out of my element chopping wood and cleaning chamber pots around the manor,  but there are several things I know how to do very well, including how to behave after a late night indiscretion. Please do not think I need any help navigating this sort of situation and please do not make assumptions about how I’m feeling.” To the men at the door, effectively cutting off any sort of reply from Natalia-- “Let’s get on. We have lots of supplies to purchase and if we want to be home again by dark, we need to move.”  Tony’s tone was brittle and almost snappish, and while Ronin raised his eyebrows at the sharp words, Samuel simply slung a friendly arm over Pietro’s shoulder and said, “Pietro, come along with us to get the ammunition and nails and that sort. Leave the women to prance around with Tony in that ridiculous fur coat.” “This coat is worth more than your horse.” Tony informed him with a faux offended sniff and Samuel grinned back. “And you’ll be sorry when I buy Natalia and Wanda new dresses and you have to keep wearing the same ratty pants.” “Antonio!” Wanda’s eyes lit in surprise and hope. “Would you really buy me a new dress?” “I’ll buy you four if you like.” Tony said nonchalantly, a smile curving his mouth when the pretty girl flushed in pleasure. “Natalia as well. I’ve got the coin, we should spend it on something.” “Oy! I want to go along with Tony!” Pietro protested loudly and Samuel just clapped a hand on his collar and hauled him out the door behind James. "No wait! I want new things! I want new things too!"   “My love.” Ronin bent to give Natalia a long kiss, then looked up at Tony, “Buy her something in purple. I like when she wears purple.” “Purple it is.” Tony nodded and looked away politely when Natalia kissed her love back. “We’ll try for two in the afternoon to meet? That should be plenty of time to do our shopping and to start back home again.” “I’m sure that’s enough time.” Natalia signed the same to Ronin and blew him another kiss as he left. “Now then, Antonio I was thinking we should--" She shut up abruptly when James came back, ignoring both her and Wanda in favor of coming round to Tony’s side of the small table and covering his mouth in a long kiss, burying his fingers in Tony’s hair to angle his head just right and murmuring against Tony’s lips-- “dobroye utro.”-- as they parted. “Good morning.” “Good morning.” Tony whispered back and James gave him one last kiss before straightening and leaving again, closing the door behind him and thumping down the stairs to catch up with Samuel and Ronin. Wanda was the one to break the stunned silence, giggling, “My oh my. Antonio, you two must have had a wonderful time together! I've never seen James smile in the morning, it must be the same smile you left him with last night!” 

Tony turned positively scarlet and Natalia was quick to reprimand, “Wanda! You are too young to know about those sort of things!”  

Wanda protested, “I’ve been grown for three years now! You can’t expect me to only talk about hair ribbons and pretty horses forever! Of course I know what happens in the bedroom--” 

“No!” Natalia burst into laughter and waved her hands wildly. “No, child. I cannot believe that. Don’t hurt my ears with such talk!” 

“You are as old fashioned as a grandmama.” Wanda informed her with a little huff, before turning frankly curious eyes to Tony. “Are you and James in love? Is that why he kissed you?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are a million reasons to kiss someone that have nothing to do with love or affection at all.” Tony managed, biting at his lips to hide a smile. “Let’s go please.” “But what about--” “Let’s go please!” Tony swept out of the room without another word, and Wanda hesitated less than a second before whirling around to ask, “Talia, why is he so surprised James wanted to kiss him after spending the night together? They are so obviously smitten, I’m sure they’ve kissed before!”  “First of all, I'm sure neither my brother nor Antonio have any idea exactly how smitten they are." Natalia said dryly. "And second, I assume Antonio’s previous lover never initiated a kiss unless they were already in bed He doesn’t talk about it much, but it seems he and his lover only met on the other man’s terms, in a private place and never ever spent the night together. I can’t imagine Antonio has ever been kissed good morning.” “How sad for Antonio.” Wanda buttoned her own jacket then held out Natalia’s to help her into the sleeves. “I’ve never been in love and even I know it couldn't have been true affection.” “It’s always easier to judge a situation when you are on the outside looking in, darling.” Natalia retrieved her purse and checked the room one more time to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. “And you’ve spent years watching how Ronin and Samuel and I are together, the way our entire family loves so freely. James is the odd one out in that respect, and Antonio is the same. You recognize love when you see it.” “And you think Antonio doesn’t?” “I think he’s so jaded by what he thought was love, he won’t want to recognize it.” Natalia tsked sympathetically. “Shadows, Wanda. He has shadows in his heart and I’m afraid they are too dark for him to see anything at all.” “You’re worried James will be hurt.” “I’m worried they’ll hurt themselves and each other and not realize until it’s too late.” Natalia tucked a piece of red hair behind Wanda’s ear and smiled into the girl’s eyes. “Promise me you won’t go running after the first boy to smile at you. Or the first woman to call you beautiful. Please please be smarter than that. For me.” “Talia.” Wanda sighed and pushed her out the door. “I’ll be lucky if anyone gets close enough to even see me, what with Ronin and Samuel being so protective. There’s nothing to worry about, not for a long while.” “It’s terrible selfish of me to be glad for that.” Natalia linked their arms and hurried down the stairs. “Now come on. We don’t want Antonio to change his mind about buying us dresses, do we?”

****************

Natalia Romanova was born a blue blood, raised in a home that was damn near a castle and wed to a high ranking nobleman and yet she had never been treated with the respect just walking around as Tony’s wife gave her. Her father had been suspected of treason long before he’d ever been convicted and Natalia’s childhood had been full of snide remarks, of less than quiet comments and outright awful insinuations about her family and the lack of morals afforded the Romanovs. 

As the young bride of a monster, Natalia was handed all the responsibilities of a noblewoman and was given none of the benefits-- no party invitations, no afternoons of tea with the other ladies, no dressmakers clamoring to create something lovely for the next ball. She had been isolated and ostracized, lonely and miserable and no one had ever cared. Talia was used to being looked down at, whispered about, having her money accepted only begrudgingly, as if even her coin was tainted and Natalia hated every moment of every interaction clear to her very soul. But around the city with Tony, Natalia was treated like a queen, shop owners opening their doors wide and eagerly showing the three of them around. The dressmaker nearly fell over herself calling for assistants to take measurements for Natalia and Wanda, promising to have several of the ready made dresses tailored immediately and sent out as soon as possible, holding up hats to model and pair after pair of delicate kid gloves, scarves, broaches and baubles. Shopping for food things and pantry items was the same, vendors happy to sell to Natalia now when in months previous they had sniffed and turned away. Tony ordered everything crated and delivered to their wagon with an itemized receipt, the finer things stored in the carriage and oh would there be hell to pay if he discovered even one item missing from the list. “We can carry some of the things, Antonio.” Wanda whispered and Tony hushed her with a lofty, “I’ve never carried a package in my life and I’m not about to start now. Next shop, please.” Clear on the other side of the town, James and the others were busy purchasing as much ammunition as they could, two new rifles and four more refurbished pieces they could tear apart and use to repair the pile at home. Nails of all sizes, a new saw, a new ax head as well, and the coin purse still wasn’t empty by the time they were done. 

Ronin and Samuel stopped into a trinket shop to purchase a few gifts for Talia and the twins, and James privately purchased something he tucked into his pocket for later, something he'd give Tony if the time was ever right. “Everything alright?” Samuel asked James as he rechecked the supplies against the list Natalia had written. "You're quiet today." “I’m always quiet.” James countered brusquely. “Are we done?” I agree. Quiet. Ronin signed, and then, “We’re done if you are." “It was good to see you smile this morning.” Samuel spoke for both of them, shaking his head when Pietro looked like he was going to ask a question. “Been a long time since you managed that sorta thing for anything other than bloodshed.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” the big soldier tucked away a new pouch of tobacco and cloves. “So don’t.” “It’s not--” Samuel sent a glance over to Ronin. “--I mean, It’s been ten years, James. You don’t have to feel guilty for this sorta thing, for being with Tony? And he sure looked happy this morning so--” “I said don’t!” “Alright then.” Samuel wisely let the topic drop, handing Pietro the rifles and a sack of ammunition. “Let’s find the others.” ************ The ride home was spent with Wanda excitedly telling Pietro about her day, about the dresses they’d tried on and the ribbons Tony had bought for their hair and how she couldn’t wait to have an excuse to wear her new hat somewhere fun. Samuel rode along the other side of the carriage to keep an eye out for any danger, listening with one ear to the conversation and grinning over Wanda's glee.

Natalia napped in the carriage with most of the smaller packages taking over the seats, a blanket spread over her lap so she was warm. She was exhausted from the long day, from putting on the airs and manners she had always hated. It had been fun to be so spoiled, to be treated so well, but more than anything Natalia wanted to get back to their manor house, back home so she could sleep next to her loves and finish readying the house for the coldest months.

Ronin drove the heavily laden wagon with his horse tied behind, and Tony rode to the side as guard. The pace was slower this time around but the horses put in a valiant effort and Tony encouraged them with quiet clicks of his tongue and soft words. James trailed behind the group much like he had the first time, sweeping the surrounding woods for any sign of life, turning in the saddle to check behind to be sure they hadn't been followed from town. He hadn't seen a single soldier today no had he caught anyone looking at them with anything any other than generic curiosity, but that didn’t mean soldiers hadn’t been present, or that their family hadn’t been watched.

So James scanned the woods, checked the trail behind, looked as far ahead as he could to be sure there were no surprises ahead and his eyes only paused in their surveying when to settle on Tony’s back every few moments. The night between them had been… well, it had been surprising, to say the least.  Their first real kiss had shocked James as much as it had seemed to shock Tony, the way their bodies suddenly yearned and clung and ached. James had tried to go slow, he had. It had been a long time for him after all, ten years since he’d lost Stevie and James hadn’t wanted anyone since that awful day. 

In reality, James had barely wanted at all since then, forsaking even the comfort of his own hand and drowning any lingering urge for pleasure in blood and pain until it didn’t exist anymore. But Tony had been nothing like Stevie. Shorter for one, and quite a bit smaller. James’s hands could just about fit around Tony's waist and the pretty brunette had made this gorgeous surprised noise that made James’s fingers tighten around the reins just thinking about it. And afterwards when they had held each other for just a few minutes, Tony had fit with his head tucked under James’s chin, their feet tangling beneath the covers and it had been damn near perfect. And Tony was soft, so soft. Not rows and rows of hard muscle, not arms strong enough to pick Bucky up and shove him into a wall, not thighs thick enough to clamp around Bucky’s head and nearly suffocate him as he tried to fit everything in his mouth. No, Tony was soft and breakable and for the first time in ten years James hadn’t wanted to break anything. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d tried to be soft. He’d tried to find the words to soothe Tony’s obvious embarrassment over expecting to be turned face down. It hadn’t been until after Tony had left the room, not until after the sun had risen that it occurred to James that at some point, Tony had always been pushed face down in bed. Who would do that, when there were such sweet lips waiting to be kissed and a mouth begging to be tasted and a blush red on porcelain skin and the chance to listen to every little gasp and pant and the way Italian slipped into Tony's words when he was overwhelmed? Who would want to miss that? Tony hadn’t said anything after their kiss this morning, in fact he hadn't said anything at all since leaving the town, only flashing James a quick smile before ducking inside the carriage to change out of his fancier clothes and into a shirt and coat he could travel in. Then he’d climbed aboard his horse--with a grimace and a wince that had made a very specific sort of satisfaction curl through James’s stomach-- and hadn’t said a single word. That was alright. They’d have time to talk tonight after the wagon was unloaded and supplies stacked in the pantry to be sorted through in the morning. They could talk and then they could-- James cursed out loud when he was suddenly physically uncomfortable in the saddle, shifting his weight and lifting up in the seat so there wasn’t quite so much pressure. Ten years of foregoing this sort of thing and now he was as eager as a young man, nothing more than a few thoughts needed to get him going. 

Tony turned around at the noise, shooting James a concerned glance. “Alright?” “Saddle’s uncomfortable.” James said evenly, and then with a pointed look lower on Tony’s body. “How’s yours?” Tony lifted one shoulder in an approximation of the least concerned shrug he could manage and turned back around, being sure to muffle his whimper as his core lit up with a flash of pain, settling into a dull ache that made his cheeks heat and his heart race. All day he’d managed to keep his mind off of James and on the tasks at hand, but now they were only a few hours from home all Tony could think of was what would happen tonight. If anything would happen tonight. He couldn’t imagine wanting someone so soon again after a night together-- he and Ty had always gone at least a week between trysts, sometimes even longer. But James had come in this morning and kissed him in full view of Talia and Wanda, had kissed him and whispered soft things into his ear and last night he had asked Tony to stay for a few minutes so they could hold each other and oh Tony didn’t know what he’d do if James wanted him again tonight. That was absurd, of course he knew what he’d do. He’d say yes. **************** It was dark by the time they made it home to the manor house, and James sent Natalia and Wanda inside while the men carried everything through the house and stacked it in the pantry and around the kitchen. Samuel and Ronin took care of the wagon and carriage, sweeping out the dirt that had accumulated over the past two days and backing them each into the empty barn on the other side of the courtyard. Wheels were locked into position and any hinges or latches secured, then the barn doors were barred and left until next time. “I’ll get the horses.” James was already walking Zima towards the stables, so neither Samuel nor Ronin argued with him, eager to get upstairs and into bed with Natalia. Pietro didn't bother offering to help, the boy more than ready for something eat and to open the new novel James had bought for him at the bookstore. “You three start locking up the house for the night and I’ll be in soon. Be sure to secure the windows so the wind doesn't come through." Tony walked his mount to the stables next to James and and they worked in silence to get the horses all wiped down and given a quick brush, special attention paid to the team that had pulled the heavy wagon for so long-- hooves inspected and noses checked to be sure the bridles hadn't rubbed uncomfortably. 

Clean hay was laid down on the floors and a handful of newly bought oats mixed in with the food for the night, water poured into the trough so there was plenty to drink. Tack was sorted and worked through with oil, saddles checked for burrs or thorns and blankets shaken out before being lain over the sides of an empty stall. When it was all said and done, James hung the pitchfork up along the wall and reached for Tony, dragging him up close for a kiss he’d been thinking about all day, greedy and grabby as he spun around to pin Tony to the stable wall, caging the smaller brunette in with his arms before taking his mouth again, thrusting his tongue past Tony’s lips without pausing for a breath. Tony gasped something coaxing and excited, then set his fingers to scrabbling at James’s shirt to yank it from his pants, dragged his nails along the flex of muscles and palmed confidently over the front of James’s trousers, getting his reward in the form of a burst of Russian profanity and an eager push of hips. It was dark in the stables, the scent of sweet hay and night wind and each other filling their heads and their senses and it was so easy to find release right then and there, rutting against each other and the wall, sharing messy kisses that were more teeth and tongue than lips, sharing air and breathing wanton, indecipherable things into each other’s ear, mouthing it into sweat warmed skin. James finished first this time, using the leftover oils on his hand to stroke them together, panting into the curve of Tony’s neck and shaking through his release. Tony followed a minute later, pushed over the edge by the added slick of James’s spend, by the way the soldier’s voice had gone hoarse and lazy and satisfied as he brought Tony over into pleasure as well. And then they stayed huddled together, Tony’s hand in James’s hair and James not willing to straighten up and pull away, breath slowing and bodies cooling until everything had settled into a low simmer of arousal and contentment. “So.” James finally lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. “This is what we’re doing then?” “So long as it’s just this.” Tony said quietly, tucking himself back into his trousers and wiping his hands on a handful of hay. “You understand?” “Don’t worry.” in the dark, Tony couldn’t tell if James’s smile was amused or melancholy. “My heart is not involved, nor do I want yours to be.” “Alright then.” Despite their words, James’s arm wound around Tony’s waist as they walked from the barn, another kiss or two landing in his hair and before they climbed the stairs, once more on his mouth, James cupping Tony’s jaw lightly and kissing him sweetly before saying goodnight. And just as he fell asleep, Tony thought about the ice in James’s soul, the winter that drove the soldier to such violence. How could so cold a man could have hands so warm, how someone so brittle could make Tony feel hot and liquid with nothing more than a kiss?  James lay in his bed across the hall and told himself over and over that their hearts weren't involved, that it was physical and nothing else...

...then closed his eyes and dreamed about all the way he could erase the shadows from deep brown eyes.  

*************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

[raendown]

The next chapter of my Amends to the Dead series, commissioned by the wonderful @birkastan2018 who has been amazingly supporting of my works and provided so much inspiration. 

Pairing: None Word count: 4239 Chapter: 1/4 Rated: T+ Summary: Months after the village is built Izuna is near his breaking point. Peace is nice, don't get him wrong, but he could do without the pale shadow that follows behind him everywhere he goes. All he wants is to understand. What the hell is Tobirama's obsession with watching him?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Chapter 1

Grey clouds and a dreary sky greet him when Izuna leaves the administration tower this afternoon, a dour forecast for the evening’s weather. Determined to keep a positive attitude, he tells himself that at least it is holding off for now, will hopefully keep itself in check until after he finishes his inspection. That massive dream-headed idiot of a Senju wants a wall around their settlement but as much as Izuna freely agrees with the tactical benefits of such a barrier he is glad Madara has managed to talk the man in to waiting rather than just springing something up out of the ground willy-nilly. Although several clans and minor villages have already emigrated to join them there are still others they hope to bring in to the fold as well. If Hashirama grows a wall around them at their current size it will ostracize any new districts built in the future – not to mention that such a short-sighted buffoon will almost definitely forget to leave room for population growth as the years go on.

Hence why Izuna has saddled himself with the boring task of trudging his way around the outskirts to scope out where they can expand, how far, whether some portions of the surrounding terrain should be left available to grow crops, that sort of thing. Trying to keep his thoughts grand scale, the first thing he does is make the long climb up the mountain face overlooking them all. From there he is granted a wonderful view of all they have built so far and all the space they have to build upon in the future. Izuna does his best to sketch what he sees on several different pieces of paper and includes the surrounding terrain as little symbols. Later he can use these sketches to create different proposals for wall construction.

Considering how often he changes his mind he intends to make at least five copies. He only gets halfway through the fourth before his hand freezes in place and his eyes slowly roll to one side, looking around without actually turning his head. It’s a useless endeavor anyway. Even if he turns all the way around and carefully inspects every inch of the space behind him Izuna knows he will see absolutely nothing.

Tobirama is better than that.

Weirder than the fact that his counterpart has been following him around like a lagging shadow for weeks now is the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a reason for it. The man hasn’t even gone to the trouble of suppressing his chakra. Izuna might not be a sensor type like his brother is but he isn’t so chakra-blind that he can’t tell when someone he’s spent years on the other side of a war from is nearby. He might be tempted to think the other man is mocking him somehow if not for the fact that Tobirama never once alludes to his little stalker habit when they are forced to interact in the tower. If anything his habit worsens during work hours. Very few days go by when Izuna does not turn around to find Tobirama hovering over him or staring intently from across the room.

Knowing that his old rival has been up to the same idiocies all day – just as every other day – is not very comforting but it makes his movements a little less awkward as he decides that he’s taken up enough time loitering here at the top of the cliff. It’s odd, the things one can get used to after being exposed for long enough. Having someone follow him around isn’t exactly comfortable but it’s something he learned to live with as soon as he concluded that it isn’t a statement of the Senju’s lack of trust. Not the clan as a whole, at least.

If there were anyone they don’t trust it would be Madara and no one follows him around. Izuna cannot imagine them wasting their best on him while assigning someone lesser to tailing his more dangerous older brother. The Senju have never been a stupid enemy.

Almost worse than the strangeness of knowing that he is being followed is trying to decide how to act. Izuna packs his sketches away and does everything he can to resist the urge to turn around and search for the face he knows is watching, reflecting that he isn’t actually sure what Tobirama will do if he confronts the man. When this first started Izuna hadn’t really known what to think of it, held off on reacting in any way in case he was misinterpreting something, and now that he knows for sure that the other is following him he realizes he’s let it go on for so long that bringing it up now will only be more awkward. They need to talk about it at some point, obviously. Just maybe not right this second.

Using that excuse only gets less and less valid with every day.

With a grand overview of the village fresh in his mind Izuna refocuses himself on the task at hand and begins drafting a few tentative blueprints in his mind while he scales his way back down the cliff. Halfway down he makes a mental note to suggest they install an easier way to get up here somehow. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that any tourists or visitors will be very interested in the view of a village so important to the history of the five great nations, the first of its kind. Then he pushes the thought away in to the corner of his mind for ‘things to deal with later’; he has much more important business at hand. Before they can welcome any tourism they need to be more solid in their defense of the people already here.

Senju Touka stands in the center of the road leading in to their settlement from the north when he arrives. Izuna is quick to hide the grimace that appears as soon as he catches sight of her. Enemies they might not be any longer but Touka is not likely to ever be his favorite person. Too brash, too hard, and too focused on being a warrior without ever allowing herself to still be a woman. Izuna enjoys a tough skin as much as the next shinobi but he needs friends and lovers who allow themselves to unclench at least once in a while. The woman before him carries a look on her face even when making no expression which tells him she probably hasn’t unclenched since the first time she learned to wield her body as a weapon.

“Nothing to report,” Touka’s voice rings out sharp even when she speaks quietly. He nods once to show that he understands.

“Border inspection,” he grunts back.

“Already? With all the paperwork that goes through the Tower I had guessed it would take at least another week for anyone to even think about doing something useful about their own ideas.” She snorts and this time Izuna allows the grimace that slides back over his face.

With a rueful sigh he shakes his head. “I gave myself the job for just that reason. This needs to get done.”

“Lots of things need to get done,” Touka mumbles dryly. Her eyes flick back down the path and her chin dips to signal someone else. “The others can walk the road; if I’m going to guard the wall when it goes up I’d like to hear your thoughts on where it’s to be built.”

Since there is really no polite way to refuse her Izuna shrugs and turns away without waiting to see if she follows. If she can’t keep up that’s her own problem. He isn’t the one who invited her along. Just as he finishes the thought her footsteps come from behind and her severe face returns to his peripherals with the blank expression of someone waiting to form an opinion.

That gives him an idea, actually, speaking of opinions. As the two of them travel in silence he lets his eyes roam around the terrain on all sides, mentally comparing it to the visual he remembers from above even as another part of his mind races trying to find the wording for how to broach a subject that many still consider sensitive.

“If I may, I’d like to ask about the climate in your clan,” he says eventually. Touka gives no physical reaction, betrayed only by the caution in her tone as she replies.

“You may ask your questions.” He notices that she has promised him no answers.

“Tensions were high for a while after we first merged our territories. Obviously it’s going to take a number of years before our people can coexist with true ease but – for my own clan at least – I’ve noticed massive improvements. What I mean to ask is: what of your own clan?”

“What of them?” Touka grunts.

Careful not to show his temper, Izuna keeps his voice low so it will not carry to other ears following along behind them. “Have the tensions eased in your people? Or do they still fear mine like enemies?”

“Fear isn’t exactly how I would describe it,” his unwanted companion muses. “Caution would be more accurate.”

“Do they distrust us so much?” he presses.

To his utter lack of surprise Touka turns to give him a sharp warning look. “Don’t go looking for trouble where there is none, Uchiha. Our people distrust yours no less than yours return in kind. Like you said yourself, it’s going to take years to erase the effects leftover from generations of war. Those of us who lived through it may never recover entirely. But”-from the corner of one eye he watches her move both hands away from her weapons in a deliberate motion-“we recognize and accept that the Uchiha want this peace to work. “

“Ah. Thank you for your input, Touka-san. I had thought that was how things stand but at this stage assumptions aren’t safe to be relied upon. Let’s change the subject. We’re thinking of building out from the current settlement to allow for growth but I don’t think this particular area would be good for that. Doesn’t the ground here turn in to swamp a few miles out?”

While she does allow him to change topics without comment Izuna notes the lingering gaze from the corner of her eyes to the corners of his own. He lets her stare. If they truly are allies then he has nothing to fear from a couple of eyes that don’t even have the advantage of a Sharingan. Rumor says this woman is nearly as good with genjutsu as any Uchiha but it would need to be some kind of skill indeed to trap him in an illusion he can’t escape – and besides that there is really no reason for her to do any such thing unless she wants to start another war.

Instead the two of them trade mild opinions on the surrounding land and discuss construction plans all while pretending they don’t notice the acid undertones or the barbs hidden in their words. Much as he is loathe to admit it, by the time they make a half circuit around the village and Touka declares it time for her to turn back he almost finds himself reluctant to see her go. Almost. Sometimes it’s nice to find someone who can withstand the worst of his vitriol. He is still firm on his belief that Touka will never be one of his favorite people but perhaps they can stand each other a little better than he first imagined.

The rest of his patrol around the perimeter is done in silence with no one to talk to but the thoughts inside his own mind, probably the most intelligent conversation he is likely to have all day. Rather than give that Senju woman any reason to look at him funny again Izuna ends his inspection by ducking in between some of the housing built on the fringes like afterthoughts.

He could have done without some of the man’s habits and opinions but if there is one thing Izuna wishes their brothers had actually listened to Tobirama about it’s the road planning. Caught up in their dream as they had been, Madara hadn’t so much held Hashirama back as he had egged the man on to raise frames and rooves without a single thought for the carefully drawn street maps Tobirama had been trying to present them with. Now everyone else pays the price for it as they wind their way through crisscrossing streets that often follow no logical direction whatsoever, haring off towards wherever Hashirama had raised the next home. Surely it can only be the mercy of the kami that made him finally stop and listen to his sibling before he made a similar mess of the village center.

Finding his way through the busy foot traffic is infinitely easier once he reaching the districts where the streets are wider than his own wingspan, leaving plenty of room for Izuna to duck and weave around the gaggle of children chasing each other, wild laughter ringing over the crowds with no regard for the different clans they each belong to.

This, he has come to understand, is the peace that Madara has been dreaming of since they were young boys clinging to each other with all their strength, the last of their siblings and so desperate not to lose any more. In some ways he wishes he had understood earlier. He also hopes that the idiot following along behind him on a nearby rooftop understands the same.

When he reaches the tower Izuna heads straight for his office and rather pointedly shuts the door behind him, relieved to note Tobirama’s distinctive chakra moving off to hopefully be productive somewhere else. How the man gets anything done when he’s following other people around all day is a mystery but Izuna is just as glad to finally be alone. It’s much easier to concentrate on drawing up a few difference proposals for wall construction when he doesn’t have some part of his concentration occupied with the ever-watching eyes over his shoulder.

Unfortunately for all that he’s always been fast at coming up with plans he is also, given the time, a perfectionist. What should only take him a mere twenty minutes to sketch some rough blueprints turns in to nearly two hours of meticulous lines and painstaking notes along the edges of every paper to list the benefits of each different proposal. Izuna is already rolling his eyes at himself by the time he finally drags his body up out of the chair with a firm mental declaration that any further additions will be a waste of time. Only one of these proposals can be chosen as the final plan and the entire council will be looking over it to add their suggestions. No one expects him to think of everything himself.

Seeing Madara roll his eyes as well when he lets himself in to his brother’s office makes him stick out his tongue, a gesture the man returns without pause. Dignity isn’t exactly a concern when they are alone.

“Took you long enough,” is his greeting. “Didn’t you leave to do that just after noon? It shouldn’t have taken you that long just to walk in a big circle and doodle a couple outlines. What did you do, take a nap in a tree somewhere?” Madara tuts and shakes the handle of a brush at him, then he frowns and looks down at the parchment he’s just splattered with ink.

“Pardon me for doing my job well,” Izuna grumbles.

“Well give them here then. Looks like you have several ideas. That’s good, actually. I know it sounds counterintuitive but the bloody elders actually decide faster if we give them more options.”

The two of them share a tired look and Izuna nods understandingly as he tosses his papers on the desk. “Fewer options always means one person picks a favorite right away and another person takes exception to that. Best to let them talk it all out first, I get it.”

Madara spreads the sketches out and fiddles with the end of one, lifting it only to turn his eyes to another.

“Do you have any you’re particularly attached to before I look them over?” he asks.

“No.”

He should know to watch his tone. It’s only a single word but the moment it leaves his mouth Izuna winces, pinned in place under the sudden scrutiny of dark eyes that know him just a little too well.

“You sound upset by something,” Madara notes. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say wrong, precisely. I’m being followed around again and I still don’t like it.” It’s gratifying to see the other man scrunch his face up with distaste. At least he isn’t the only one who finds this situation endlessly odd.

“Still not talking to you about it, I suppose?”

“Not a damn word. Any time I bring it up he just stares at me with these…empty eyes. Honestly sometimes I’m tempted to worry that he’s been possessed by some demon with a grudge against me. Somehow that would make more sense!” Izuna shakes his head, stepping around to slump his body in to the single visitor chair available. Then he squirms uncomfortably as a floral scent wafts up his nose. It’s easy to tell who usually sits in this chair.

Fingers twiddling absently at the edges of the papers spread out on his desk, Madara rolls his eyes at such dramatics but makes no comment on them, which Izuna takes to mean that his sibling agrees in his own way. He wishes he could say he is only being silly and dramatic but deep down he truly believes that Tobirama being possessed by a vengeful spirit would make more sense than for the man to follow him around as though suspicious of his intentions. Still ridiculous, of course, but somehow more plausible.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to believe Hashirama's vague words about recovery during the first few meetings of peace between their people. The longer time went on without the Senju second heir appearing the less anyone had been willing to believe such nonsense but it was the look in Hashirama's eyes which stilled their tongues as the months stretched out in to a full year. Not anger or exasperation, no nervousness that they might be taking offense. What earned their silence both then and now had been the worry in his eyes, the fear for another which he tried so desperately not to let them see, the flash of uncertain terror that shadowed his eyes with every mention of his brother. Izuna has seen that look in the eyes of those who worry for their loved ones even when there is no wound to worry over.

“And he’s not…aggressive?” Madara asks.

“No!” Izuna throws his hands in the air and slumps further in his seat. “At least if he was angry or something I would understand that but this silence and following me around, it’s just weird! I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to it.”

“You could, oh I don’t know, ask him to stop?”

With the bitchiest look he can summon Izuna nods exaggeratedly. “Oh of course, why didn’t I think of that? Ah right. Because I did. And all that accomplished was a big fat load of nothing.”

“There’s no need to be so sarcastic,” his brother grumbles. When Madara turns away to pout Izuna rubs at the space between his brows.

“Do you have any idea what his problem is? Serious question, any idea at all? Has your best friend for life not said anything or dropped any hints? I’m at my wits end here.” What small hope he has is dashed by the shaking of the other man’s head.

Madara shrugs as he says, “Not a clue. It’s weird but Hashirama doesn’t actually talk about his brother very much.”

“You mean they don’t like each other?”

“No, not like that. But every time Tobirama comes up in conversation, if it’s not work related Hashirama will get this really weird look on his face and change the subject. Usually in such a way that I don’t think about it till later. You know how he is, all loud and distracting.”

“He’s certainly not as dumb as he pretends to be,” Izuna agrees.

The two of them sit in silence for a minute or two, thinking of the all the unexpected similarities between the Senju siblings and all the ways they’re still so different. For all that they are both unexpectedly intelligent it seems to be only in their own respective fields. Where Tobirama’s intelligence is nearly unparalleled when it comes to science and political machinations he seems to be quite useless when it comes to human interactions and yet that is where Hashirama shines – earnest Hashirama who can only stare with a blank smile whenever his beloved sibling goes off on some in-depth explanation of a new tax code proposal.

Shaking his head to clear it, Izuna takes a deep breath and decides that sitting around moaning about his own confusion isn’t getting much done. There are still other things he needs to do that day and he can’t do anything of them while staring across the desk at Madara.

Leaving the man to his work is as easy as reminding him that he has a lot of it and suddenly Izuna finds there is no more attention on him, the perfect time to slip out the door and wander slowly back to his own office. It is only his perfectionist nature which leads him to hearing what he does then. Were he anyone else he might shrug it off when he notices the wrappings around his left ankle coming loose, something that can certainly wait until he sits down to be fixed, but he stops instead and leans against the wall just before a turn in the corridor to bend down and fiddle with his ankle. Not until he is already busy unwrapping and retucking does he realize he is in the perfect spot to overhear two people just around the corner.

“Tetsuo thinks maybe they’re having an affair of some kind,” the first voice says, full of scorn for their own words.

“Ridiculous. That icicle and Izuna-sama? Not a chance. They were rivals for years, they’re not going to fall in to bed only a few months after peace was made!” The second voice sounds vaguely familiar, probably a member of his own clan though he can’t quite identify them.

“I never said I believed it!” the first objects. “But it’s weird, right? The way Tobirama-sama just…hovers around him. If they weren’t enemies for years I would say he’s acting like a nervous parent or something with how he watches Izuna-sama’s every move and how he glares at anyone who says something bad about the man.”

To Izuna’s annoyance his possible clan member feels the need to waste time defending his honor with a sharp, “Who’s saying bad things about him?”

“Oh for kami’s sake, that’s not the point.”

“Hmph.”

“But you get what I’m saying, yeah? I know Tetsuo think they’re rolling around together but my theory is a blood oath or something. Maybe Hashirama-sama set him this duty as penance. I heard one of them almost died in the final battle between your clans and everyone knows Tobirama-sama is too fast to go down easy.”

Much as it hurts Izuna’s pride a little to have someone believe him the weaker in any battle, he forces himself to remain still and continue listening. It takes a moment for his prideful clansman to get past the spluttering and rage over the same issue but eventually it fades in to senseless grumbling and a solid declaration that Tobirama was in fact been the one injured during their final clash. Clearly this person hadn’t been present or else they might not so casually reference that moment.

Very few had known how to process the sight of an elder version of his rival appearing only to turn and slaughter his own younger self.

As the two strangers continue to speculate Izuna swallows thickly and turns away to take another route back to his office, finding suddenly that listening in on a conversation he isn’t supposed to hear has lost its appeal. More than ever his curiosity has been peaked, however. He needs to figure this situation out.

Why does Tobirama follow him?

That will have to be dealt with on his own time, however. Later he will pass on what he heard to his brother and they can speculate to their hearts’ content over dinner. For now he has work to do. Work that, so long as he remains shut away within his own office, he can trust that he will be able to do in the silence of solitary.

Only when the work is done will he turn his mind to the problems that he has already let go too far. Surely one more day of ignoring it all cannot hurt anything. He’ll deal with it eventually, of course, but until then Izuna supposes he can hope that ignoring his problems might, by some miracle, simply make them go away.

[man-i-dont-know]

BNHA Chapter 183-185: Thoughts and Spoilers

Aiight I’ll be honest, i had to go back and see how many chapters behind I was, summer got me in a funk. So if I did three whole chapters I would bore myself to death so I’ll be selective about what I talk about. With that said, let’s get into it.

The festival turned out great and while Deku was scolded it was only minor, which I am happy about because it shows that Deku made some of the best choices he could and the pros recognize that. Eri had a lot of fun (which is all that matters), the upperclassmen apologized, and the beauty pageant was won by Nejire (she was phenomenal, flying around like a fairy confirmed her victory). On top of all that, Deku somehow found time to make candied apples for Eri since the school wasn’t selling them. Anything with Eri is heartwarming.

Gentle and La Brava are being questioned, but is seems that the police officer that is interrogating Gentle is actually quiet understanding and hasn’t full condemned him as a criminal. Well like he obviously is a criminal but the officer is... sympathetic. Or at least not as hard as he could be. I really like this touch for a handful of reasons. A lot of series that deal with villains don’t exactly deal with them legally (a.k.a., beating the tar outta them), but when it is done, the outcome is essentially predetermined. What I’m getting at is that justice systems in action comics of any type are painfully rigid and or simplified so that the villain having been beat is a guarantee that they will be in prison forever and simply isn’t an issue anymore. I would give One Piece as an example for a rigid/simple justice system, but the only prison we have really seen has been broken into and out of so that doesn’t really apply. I suppose that the “jury” works for my example, meaning One Piece courts are really straight forward, just not really the actual containing of prisoners. So seeing Hero Academia put effort into  making the system seem much deeper and much more real is greatly appreciated (though I could argue that since there is more emphasis on it, the likelihood of something going wrong is much higher, like prison break theories that have floated around since when Stain was arrested).

Next chapter starts with the surprise announcement that Eri will be living at UA (dreams do come true). It is for public safety reasons but I will take it. Amajiki suggests that it is actually possible that with time, Mirio could make a return to the heroing world, but I think that statement will just get our hopes up so I am not listening to it at the moment. The Wild Wild Pussycats, plus Kouta, makes a surprise appearance and a handful of nice things occur. Tiger apologizes to Bakugou for not being able to prevent his kidnapping (Bakugou shrugs it off); Kouta is embarrassed but is already buying Deku merch (rockin’ red shoes); Ragdoll is still without a quirk, but will be taking a desk job to provide support; and the Pussycats are thrilled with how high their Billboard Hero chart ranking is and want to continue to work for their fans. Their is an ominous monologue that All for One gives in his prison cell, about wanting to get out to “give back” the quirks he stole (honestly, villain dialogue has so much potential when they can offer something nice and it still come off as a threat). Then we see the Top Ten Heroes. Almost all the familiar faces have some kinda costume upgrade which makes me wonder if that changing costumes just happens all the time or if it is a response to All Might retiring, though almost anything could be a result of All Might retiring. Dragon lady Ryukyu is there, Old Man Samurai has a rad design, there is a washing machine, Kamui Woods is 7th which surprised me, I didn’t realize he was that popular, there’s an aggressive rabbit lady, Edge Shot, Best Jeanist, Hawks and Endeavor.

The next chapter begins with a brief speech and each of the top ten are suppose to give their remarks. Hawks seems to be the restless type and is whispering to Endeavor before the introduction is over. Seeing he won’t get a response for the fire man, Hawks zips his lips shut (that motion struck me cause I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else do that in a comic, besides the CP9 guy in One Piece but that is an extreme). The first handful of heroes give pretty generic speeches, with the exception of the Rabbit Girl who calls out all villains and that she is ready to beat the crap outta them. Hawks, now thoroughly bored/irritated, cuts off (unzips his lips cause they were still zipped from when he tried to talk to Endeavor) Edge Shot who is talking about conserving the peace, saying “Who cares?” Edge Shot isn’t surprised by this and the Rabbit Girl respects his guts to do that, Hawks then snatches the microphone and gives his own speech.

This speech kinda threw me for a loop and I had to think about it for a while, and my interpretation may be quite different from yours so bear with me. He starts off by saying that the most important thing right now is the approval ranking, which is only one of the factors that goes into this ranking system. He says we can no longer stick to the status quo, we can’t do things as we have before now that they are missing their symbol. He calls out the other heroes for not changing during this major transition period, he wants the heroes to act their part and talk like heroes. My interpretation from this is that the current hero system only worked because of All Might, and now that he ‘s gone, it can’t continue like this. That tied in with the fact that he favors approval ratings above all else, what I am guessing his goal is to change the public’s opinion of heroes in general and gain their support. He is already suggesting to do what the principal at UA is trying to accomplish, mass produce heroes in the absence of their symbol. Hawks goes a step beyond saying that the only way to win is if we have the approval rating of All Might among all of our heroes. He goes on later to say to Endeavor that he doesn’t want to be All Might nor does he want to be a leader, so the idea of trying to make a whole slew of heroes the symbol would make sense since if there is only one symbol, one hero falling brings all the peace with it. So that’s what I think he was getting at, we need the people to trust us again, but the current heroes aren’t doing anything to actually fill that gap (at the end of his speech the narrator comments that Hawks is 22 and rose to the top ten when he was only 18, which by then he had his own agency, the kid is a damn powerhouse and is funny but is arrogant as well).

Hawks hands the microphone over to a genuinely pissed Endeavor, who says that despite trying to stir up trouble, Hawks kinda had a point, and that all he has to say is “Just Watch Me.” But how he said it is filled with power and confidence and shook an audience who had been shook by a loud mouth bird man. Off stage Endeavor is pissed off and trying to get answers from Hawks, who laughingly said that he did what was necessary, shook things up, and set the stage for Endeavor. Hawks was actually quite impressed with how Endeavor handled the situation, and then asked a serious question. Hawks is having Nomu activity in his part of town and he wants Endeavor to team up and help out. The next scene is someone from the League of Villains talking to a Nomu named “High End” who is not only bigger and with a much more badass design, but is also intelligent and capable of understanding and replicating speech and taking orders. High End gets me so hyped up but also strikes fear into me because we know how powerful Nomus are, and this one is obviously much, much more dangerous. And that how the chapter ends.

I am purposefully leaving out discussion about the relation between Hawks and Icarus because by now you’ve probably seen it. This analysis really watered down Hawk’s character, but I do like him quite a bit, if he shows some genuine niceness, then he will become a fast favorite, I just worry his arrogance will be too much (again, Icarus). I would pay to see Tokoyami’s internship with Hawks cause I think Hawks would be chill with whatever edgy thing Tokoyami said but still have no real clue what he actually said. One last thing: I spoke with a friend about how some of the heroes don’t really seem to belong in the top ten (mainly the washing machine), but I look at it this way, ostracizing people in this universe doesn’t really occur because your quirk is “weird.” My case is that both of Tsuyu’s parents are straight up frogs, her friend is a snake with hair, trash grape boy is a trash grape boy and every hates him cause he’s a pervert and not because he is three foot flat with odd hair and a diaper, Sero has tape in his elbows, just to name a few. Our weird doesn’t really work in Hero Academia, so a washing machine in the top ten wouldn’t be strange if he has the credentials (I also said that Mister Clean is probably more famous than some sport stars, and that was the argument that convinced her so I’m not sure if my other one needs more work).

So that is it. Thank you for sticking to the end and reading all, some, or just parts of it, I write these just to get ideas out there and start conversations. Take what you want from my opinions and ideas if that will start a discussion. Again, thank you fro reading, and I hope you have a great day.

[atombombbagel]

WHAT DO YOU THINK ROMANCED COMPANIONS WOULD BE LIKE WAKING UP ON CHRISTMAS MORNING AND WHAT GIFT WOULD THEY BRING SOLE IM YELLING BECAUSE IM THINKING OF ALL THE CUTE FLUFF STUFF

Okay sooo, this wasn’t written by me but by my good friend @fantomofthehiddles, who did a super good job at this masterpiece. It’s under keep reading because it is long and amazing :P 

[[Damn, Iturned this into an f!Sole before I realised what I was doing. So sorry, I’lldo better next time, I pwomise! ;__;]]

[[Also,sorry this turned to be as long as an average Ghoul lifespan…]]

Sole awoke one morning to find the worldcovered in snow. At first, she felt surreal, like in the old world, like justin a second she would hear Shaun shifting in his crib, crying for his mommy.But it wasn’t Nate who was still asleep next to her, and it wasn’t 2077anymore. It was just the thick layer of snow and halos of icicles hideverything that, up till now, did a very good job of reminding her the worldhad changed: ruined houses, dead trees with broken branches, ubiquitous debris,and even the yelloweed grass. She reached for her Pip-Boy, as she did everymorning, accidentally turning the knob to “Data”, and if it wasn’t for that,she wouldn’t even realize it was 25th of December already. And thenit hit her: this would be her first Christmas without Nate, without Shaun…without her family.

Cait

“Hey,darlin’, you okay?” Cait sat up next to her, wrapping the bedding around hernaked body to protect herself from the crispy tang in the air. Sole put her armaround her and nodded mindlessly, though the words “yeah, I’m fine” somehowdidn’t want to leave her throat. Cait’s eyes wandered to the Pip-Boy. “Oh, it’sChristmas, ain’t it?”

Solelaughed softly, though didn’t really feel it. “You forgot? Really?” She didn’tmention she would have almost forgotten it herself.

“Hey, whenyou haven’t any real holidays yer entire life, they just slip by.” She soundedalmost angry, but then she looked to the side, maybe even blushed a little, andsaid, “Well, I ain’t gonna spend it complainin’. I’m glad I have me darlin’ toshare it with.” And with a kiss on Sole’s cheek, she jumped out of bed andopened the trunk she kept her things in. “Here. I made this for ya. I know itain’t much, but… I’m not as good with me hands as you are.”

Sole turnedthe bladed knuckles in her hands. They were chrome-finished, polished to ashine, and the blades were so visibly sharp Sole didn’t feel the need to check.On the bottom, on the surface that would rest against her palm, Cait had engraved:“Give ‘em a taste, love” in surprisingly elegant letters. Sole started tosuspect she had had Sturges help her with these.

“Not much?”she teased. “I love them. Come here.” She pulled Cait back to the bed and gaveher a kiss, which soon turned into a much hungrier and sexier make-out session, until they finally pulled away, albeitwith some effort. “Now, what do you say we go for a walk to the Combat Zone andmake Tommy spend Christmas with us? And we could have MacCready come with us.”

Cait lookedat her in such surprise, she didn’t even notice her eyes teared up a little.“Nothing would make me happier, luv.” And after another second of staring atSole’s face in wonder, she smiled with clear, unbridled joy, a smile Sole sorarely got to see on Cait’s face, and said, “It’s nice, y’know, having afamily.”

Curie

“I havenever seen snow before, did you know?” Curie said, standing at the window,staring at the white roofs of Diamond City’s buildings. Sole walked over to herto embrace her from behind. She put her chin on Curie’s shoulder, looking out atthe view, and suddenly all the hard work she’d put into installing the windowwas worth it. The fluff was still falling, slowly, gently drifting to theground, clinging to the Christmas lights drawn across the square, and thechildren played below, having a snowball battle without care for any collateraldamage to walls and passers-by. 

Sole dug her face in Curie’s neck, stifling acry as she realized she would never get to see Shaun, real Shaun, playing like that. She did adopt the synth Shaun,mostly for Curie’s sake; Curie, upon learning about the feud between theRailroad and the Institute, and how everyone else played into it, had been veryconcerned about how their relationship could be viewed by others. How Solecould be ostracized or even persecuted for loving her. How maybe she didn’treally like being with a synth. So Sole adopted the kid to calm her doubts,show her she really cared; but there was still a nagging voice in the back of hermind making her constantly aware that the ten-year-old boy, now running aroundTakahashi’s noodle stand in order to get a better angle at the ‘enemy team,’wasn’t her real son. Even though he acted like one and loved her like one. Hewasn’t her own.

But peopledidn’t know that, except for select few, like Curie, of course, or Nick who hadhelped her find Shaun in the first place, or X6. Everyone else though shereally did find her son at the Institute. Well, they weren’t really wrong.

“As much asI love this, ma belle,” Curie said,pulling Sole out from the dark corners of her mind, “we must get going. He havea lot to do today! You promised me carolling, remember?”

“I do,”Sole replied reluctantly. Oh, Piper was going to have a field day with them.

“Butfirst,” Curie continued, obviously ignoring her tone, “I have made a veryspecial gift for you, mon amour!” Shescuttled through the room, leaving Sole completely dumbfounded. They’d beenspending every waking moment together for weeks now. When did Curie manage toget her a gift without her noticing? And a hand-crafted one, at that? “Here,unwrap it! I read that unwrapping presents used to be an important traditionbefore the War. But I’m afraid I had to use pages from a children’s book. It iscolorful, yes?”

It wascolorful, and pretty. So much that Sole tried her best not to damage thepackaging too much, but Curie didn’t seem to mind. What emerged looked somewhatlike a leather collar, black, and quite elegant. There was a round piece ofplatinum at the front which seemed to have a purpose beyond just being adecoration.

“It doessomething, doesn’t it?” Sole asked, throwing Curie a mistrustful glance.

“Yes, see,if you put it on and press this button, it releases a mild chemical which willstop pain conduction from the neck down. It should make it more comfortable foryou to tend to your injuries in the field, when I am not there to help.Professor Scara helped me with the technology. She said it is called ‘achoker’, even though I don’t see why. Still, very useful, no? And I think youwill look very mignonne in it.”

“Oh, Curie,”Sole said, almost crying for some reason. “You’re the most amazing woman I’veever met. Thank you.”

“I knew you would like it!” Content, sheopened the window to shout: “Shaun, monpetit cœur! It is time to come home!” And as she turned back to Sole, “This shouldbe an interesting experiment. We should start with the Science Center, no? Myco-workers should be thrilled to have us.”

Sole turnedthe choker in her hands, feeling the texture of the soft leather, before sheput it on the side table. There would be time to test it later. Now, she wasabout to spend Christmas with her family.

Danse

“What was that about?” Sole heard Hancock’s voiceoutside the window.“Hell if I know,” Nick replied, they voices getting quieter as they walkedaway. Sole looked out the window to find Danse standing on the porch.

“Whathappened?” she asked.

“I smiled,”he replied, causing her to choke with stifled laughter. “And I told them ‘MerryChristmas’. I don’t think they liked it.”

“They wereprobably just surprised,” she said before walking out to the porch with him andpromptly shivering in the cold. Note to self: winter is not the time of year towalk out of the house in nothing but a nightgown. “Oh, shit, it’s cold.”

Danselooked her up and down. “That is indeed the case when you stand barefoot in thesnow.” Had he said it, he picked up against her protests that everyone wasgoing to see—

“It’s justfor a second,” he cut her off, dashing to the building across the street. AndSole, holding on to his strong, broad shoulders, suddenly didn’t mind. He sether down near the fire. “I actually have something for you that might be theanswer to your problem.” And from a locker, he pulled out… Maxson’s battlecoat?

“Wh… Pleasetell me you didn’t go back to the Prydwen to kill Elder Maxson for this,” shestuttered out, but as Danse began shaking his head with amusement, she noticedthere wasn’t any blood on it, and in fact, there weren’t any sign of wear atall.

“If I did,I wouldn’t be standing here right now,” he replied. “It’s just…” Shock onSole’s face deepened. She had never heard him not finish a sentence before.“You used to joke about how much you liked Maxson’s coat, so I thought I shouldmake one for you. Like I said once: if you want something, say it, and I’llmake it happen.” And he wrapped the coat around her bare shoulders, and shemarveled at how warm it was, how well it fit her, how even the lining was justright, and how…

“You madethis? On your own?” She still couldn’t believe it, even holding the damn thing inher hands.

“Well, theyalways encouraged us to work on our uniforms, and turns out, leather isn’t muchdifferent. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Danse,I love it!” She jumped into his arms again just to give him a deep kiss. Andfeel his biceps, because why not. Danse in turn embraced her waist and huggedher close to steady her. She could feel his firm chest on hers even through hisclothes. As always, it made her remember Nate, just like every time Danse puton his power armor, she remembered Nate in his, and, just as always, shecouldn’t help thinking about how lucky she was. This is where she’d alwaysbelonged: in a soldier’s arms. “Thank you so much, hun’.”

Dansestumbled back into the wall as he put his forehead against hers, closed hiseyes, and momentarily lost his balance a bit; but Sole wasn’t worried. Even ifthey had fallen, Danse would make sure she landed safe on him. Nevertheless,there was something desperate in how he longed for her touch.

“Honey?What’s going on?” she asked gently, her hands against his face. He squeezed herwaist harder, to the point it almost hurt, but then he set her down again.

“I want totell you how important this is for me,” he said softly, looking straight intoher eyes. His fingers played with a strand of her hair, almost as if on theirown. “The last real Christmas I had was… all the way back in Rivet City, withCutler. Later, when we joined the Brotherhood… There always seemed to be moreimportant things to do. Holidays just seemed… silly. We’d give each other smallgifts for a few years, the even that stopped, and then he…” And now, for thefirst time since always, she heard his voice break. She rubbed his face withher hand, trying to give him some sort of comfort. He took a breath, thencontinued, “I just want you to know, this means a lot. Those memories withCutler are some of the most precious ones I have, and I feel blessed to be ableto add to them with you. You make me feel the same way he did: like I have afamily again.”

Hancock

Sole turnedand looked at Hancock, still sleeping soundly, his scarred lips slightly partedin steady breaths. His eyes were moving as he mumbled something in the linesof, “what the fucking fuck happened to this mutfruit?” Sole should havelaughed, but somehow, it only made her feel worse. She didn’t want to wake himfrom this obviously thrilling dream, but… She snuggled up to him, put her headon his bare chest, the warm ridges and crests scraping against her cheek. Ifshe felt chilly before, that was now completely replaced with the heatemanating from Hancock. She clinged to him with her entire body, blamingherself as he stirred awake.

“Hey,sunshine, what’s going on?” He threw his arm around her, squeezing her waistreassuringly.

“I’m sorryI woke you. I didn’t—”

“Come on,getting to spend more time with you? Nothing I’d like more In the world.” Hekissed her forehead and she nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing in hisscent. “So what’s up? Why are you like this? Come on, it’s Christmas.”

“I know…”

“Oh… Ohh.”He pulled her up onto himself until she was on top of him. He cupped her facein his hands, placed another gentle kiss on her lips. “I love you, Sole. I knowit’s not enough to fill the hole your family left in you, b— No, shit, don’tcry.”

Solecouldn’t help it. She clung to him again, bawling all over his shoulder,suddenly so overwhelmed by every bad and good thing she felt, she couldn’t holdit in anymore. She’d been gathering it up for the last three months, nevertalking much about it, never letting it out, because in this world, everyone’slives sucked, and most of them much worse than hers. She had it good, comparedto some. And she really did believe she’d left her old life behind, since thisone was, surprisingly, so much simpler. But apparently not.

Hancock heldher close, rocking them a little as he brushed her hair and gave it a fewkisses. She still couldn’t believe how well he understood, even though she knewit was killing him inside to see her still pining for the husband she had lost.For a dead man. Unless she found a way to truly put Nate out of her mind,Hancock would always feel like he does now: like he comes second to her. Andyet, he remained at her side, loving her unconditionally. Saying how he didn’tdeserve her, when truly, it was her who didn’t deserve him.

“I loveyou, too,” she said finally, having regained control over her shaky breathing.“And I’m so, so sorry.”

“Now, don’ttalk crap like that.” Hancock brushed her hair aside as she raised her tear-stainedface to look him in the eye. “You had a rough year. Rough two hundred years.You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Shesnuggled up to him again, suddenly unable to speak again. Hancock gave her amoment which he seemed to enjoy just as much as she did, and then said: “Okay,that’s enough of being two emotional wrecks, we need to get going,” as helazily slapped her ass.

Sole satup, too surprised to throw him a black look. “What? Why?”

“We’rehaving a Christmas party at the Third Rail. Didn’t I tell you?” She shook herhead. “I could swear I told you. I did tell you to bring a dress, didn’t I? Well,anyway, it won’t be much of a party without everyone’s favorite mayor making anappearance, so why don’t you just…” And then he bluntly rolled her off of him.Sole, with a pained sigh, kept rolling until she almost fell off the bed andscrambled to her feet.

“Oomph…fuck.” She leaned against the wall, feeling her head explode, but like, in thedistance.

“Youalright?”

“Just a bitdizzy. And a headache.”

Hancockcame over to kiss her temple, but snorted along the way: “You’re spending waytoo much time with me.” But then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Ormaybe you’re sick?”

“Bullshit.I’m just tired.” As soon as she could move normally again, she began dressing,much to Hancock’s theatrical anguish. “It’s not like last night brought me muchsleep, exactly…”

“Yeah,sure, make it all my fault,” he teased as he pulled on his coat and fastenedthe belt across his chest. “You little vixen, you.”

Solechuckled. It absolutely was not his fault. He had just about fallen asleep whenshe’d decided to jump his bones. Oh, the poor bed.

Afterseveral minutes of him constantly interrrupting her as she tried to getdressed, they finally went down to the Third Rail, where the entire populace ofGoodneighbor was already gathered. As soon as Hancock walked in, everyonewelcomed him with an earth-shattering ‘huzzah!’ raising their glasses, which,as Sole suspected, were full thanks to his generosity. Oh, how easy it was tomake these people happy. Hancock waited for the commotion to die down—someonehanded him a glass of wine in the meantime and Hancock now thumped hisfingernails against it.

“I’d liketo make an announcement,” he said. “One a bit more elaborate than my usual ‘ofthe people, for the people’.” Everyone cheered anyway. “Okay, okay. Come on,folks. I just wanna say that Goodneighbor may have started as a place, but nowit’s about you. The people. Without you, there would be no Goodneighbor. And itmakes me more happy than I can say to be able to call myself your mayor andcall you my family.” Cheers and ‘aww’s broke out again.

“We loveyou, too, Hancock!” a man shouted.

“Now, now,don’t get too familiar, Joe, you’re not my type.” Hancock winked and Sole couldswear at least half the crowd pretended to faint while the rest laughedheartily. “Not to mention, and here we’re coming up on the second part of myannouncement that most of you probably know, I’m already spoken for.” Sayingthat, he pulled Sole in closer. The crowd cheered on, albeit less loudly, andsome of them murmured in an unsurprised agreement. Sole’s eyes met MacCready’s,who was sitting at the bar, and he smiled and put his glass up to her.

“Now I’dlike you all to come see the gift I got this one. Y’know, in hopes she’ll makegood use of it and come visit us a little more often.” People laughed again,and then most of them followed as Hancock led Sole out with his hand on herwaist.

“What thehell did you do, Hancock?” she murmured, blushing. For someone who got involvedin so much, she didn’t necessarily like being the center of attention.

“You’llsee, sunshine,” he replied in that low voice of his. Son of a bitch. Theywalked out into the cold, crispy air, smelling of smoke and winter. Snowcrunched beneath their feet as they took a left turn around the corner of theOld State House… and then she saw it. A beautiful silver vertibird, clearlyfreshly washed and polished, was sitting on the roof of Hotel Rexford. Anenormous red bow was somehow tied around the pilot’s cabin.

“What thefuck? John? What the actual fuck?” she stuttered, and he only stood there andgrinned proudly. “You can’t be serious! Whaa… How did you even…?”

“You knowhow Gunners will do anything for caps?… Yeah.”

“Do went tothe Gunners?!”

“More likecontacted them via a messenger, arranged a meet on neutral gr… Oh, stopfreaking out. They’re pretty reasonable when they hear the caps jingle, andthey do keep their gear in good condition.” Sole was still shaking her head athim with her eyes widened in honest shock, so he continued, “What was Isupposed to do? Go to the Brotherhood?”

“How aboutget me a smaller, more… manageable gift?”

“Stopwhining.” He kissed her to shut her up. Some of the more intoxicated partyerscheered them on as they rode the line between propriety and shamelessly makingout in public. Hancock pulled back a little, but still stayed close, and whenhe had her so close, his rough hands on both sides of her head, suddenly therewas no one else in the entire world. “It’s your fault, you know. Should neverhave said you’d like one of your own. You should’ve known I’d strive to make ithappen.” Sole let out an incoherent babble, hiding her red face in her hands.Hancock laughed and kissed her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go spendChristmas with family.”

 BONUS:

As theydescended back into the Third Rail, this time led by a small group of drunkNeighborhood Watch guards, singing a bawdy song as they stumbled down thestairs, Hancock and Sole were suddenly approached by Magnolia.

“I wantedto say, I’m happy for you two,” she said before they could even greet her.“You…” She put her finger on Sole’s chest. “You are one hell of a woman. Iwould know.” She winked and laughed with that perfectly calculated chuckle.“Take care of him, dear. And you, Hancock—don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh,Magnolia. I would never.” Again, with unbridled joy, he kissed Sole’s templewith such exhilaration, she couldn’t help but laugh. But she also couldn’t tearher eyes off of Magnolia’s fiery gaze. There seemed to be something else.

“But,still, in memory of old times…” She threw Sole a meaninful look, making herblush again, as she reached underneath her dress to take out a small package.“I’d like you to have this. I think it’ll suit you well.” And, saying that,Magnolia left a kiss on Sole’s cheek and went on to take her place at themicrophone and entertain the crowd as only she could. Sole opened the smallpacket to find a ruby-eyed ring with intricate engravings around the socket.Hell, it seemed to be older even than her. She stared at it in disbelief untilHancock gently took it from her.

“Well, I’llbe damned.” He said only before slipping it on her finger and then placing analmost theatrical kiss on her hand. “Now, milady… Shall we dance?”

Solelaughed and let him lead her down to the main room of the Third Rail. No onepaid much attention to them anymore, busy with their own friends andactivities. Only Whitechapel Charlie dipped his hat to them as they went past.They found a fairly quiet corner in MacCready’s VIP room, and as they dancedslowly to Magnolia’s voice seeping under the door, singing her specialinterpretations of the Christmas carols, Hancock embraced her close and kissedher neck gently, sending warm shivers down her spine. Until he suddenly jerkedhis head up.

“Wait. Whatdid Magnolia mean by ‘old times’?” he asked, watching her carefully. Soleblushed at the memory of Magnolia’s scent and deft fingers.

“Nothingmuch, love,” she said immediately, but Hancock’s grin made it clear he figuredit out anyway. She laughed at the face he made. Hancock kissed her deeply, andthen instead of dancing, she was in his arms again as he put his hand on theback of her head and refused to let go. And when they pulled back, they wereboth panting hard, and she could see his thoughts written clearly on his partedlips and lustful gaze.

“Goddammit,John,” she said immediately. “We are notdoing this in MacCready’s room with everyone on the other side of the door.”

“Mm, you’reright…” he mumbled, but still didn’t let her go. “But why not?”

MacCready

She allowedherself several minutes to shed a few tears over the life she used to have, butthen a pitter-patter of small feet sounded in the short hallway, and she hadjust barely enough time to wipe her face in the bedding before Duncan ran intothe bedroom.

“IT’SCHRISTMAS!” he shrieked in a tone that nearly burst her eardrums, jumping ontothe bed. “And there’s snow! Have you seen?”

“Yes,” shechuckled, as if immediately healed by his child-like excitement. “You wannahelp me make the food?”

“I would…”He sat up and wrinkled his nose with an undecisive pout. “But I’d also like togo outside… I mean, there’s so much SNOW!”

“Right, youusually wouldn’t see this much, would you? Okay, then, why don’t you getdressed warm and run down to Miss Alice and get some razorgrain and fruit?Actually, take whatever she’ll give you, your dad will probably figure out ause for it.”

She waitedfor Duncan to say, “Oh, okay, I guess” and leave to get dressed before sheburst out laughing at her own unintended sexual innuendo. Fuck, four days isapparently way too long.

Just anhour and half later, they were both in the kitchen, preparing dough for thecake she had promised Duncan probably a couple of weeks ago. Brahmin wasalready marinating, carrots and silt beans cooking; she even prepped the cornwhen she got bored as the dough was rising. Now she was trying her best to makesomething resembling chocolate icing with the odd-tasting brahmin milk, sweetrolls, sugar bombs, and a pinch of coffee. It wasn’t going so well.

“Duncan!Can you please not?” Sole shouted, gently pushing the boy’s hand away from thedough. “Come on, would you rather eat raw dough or a chocolate cake?”

Duncan wasthinking for the longest time before he finally said, reluctantly, “Cake…”,even though he was still eyeing the dough longingly. Sole sighed. “When isDaddy going to be back?” he asked then, and the way he said ‘Daddy’, like hestill couldn’t believe the word even as it left his mouth, tore Sole’s heartout of her chest. Well, shit. She didn’t need it anyway.

“Soon, Ihope,” she said as normally as she could, but she couldn’t help to glance atthe time. RJ had left their house at Sunshine Tidings a few days ago to go finda gift for Duncan. He’d said he would come back in time for Christmas dinner,hell, that he’d even help her make it, but it was already past noon and hestill hadn’t come home. Fuck knows where he went in the first place. He mightbe dead in a ditch somewhere, chewed on by molerats, or… worse—torn to shredsby ferals. She found herself wondering what she’d do if she had to tell Duncanthat, and then take care of him alone. Would she even be able to?

Don’t thinkabout it, she told herself. It would be okay. She sent Strong to go with RJ,and these two were pretty much unkillable together. RJ probably miscalculatedthe time it would take them to get to Goodneighbor and back with Strong slowinghim down a little.

“Why don’tyou go play with Dogmeat outside?” she asked Duncan, seeing the internal battleover the dough play out clearly on his face. “Just dress warmly and becareful.”

“Okay,” hebeamed up at the idea, got ready in the matter of seconds, and shouted “Comeon, Doggy!” as he rushed out the door. Dogmeat slid off of his couch, stretchedcarefully, and followed him out, his muzzle drooping like he wanted to say,“gosh, I’m getting too old for this,” even though he was barely four.

But soonSole could see the dog rolling in the snow so zealously he rolled off a hilland stopped only at the water pump, hitting it with a yelp. Duncan ran to checkup on him, but Dogmeat got up without trouble and immediately knocked the kidoff his feet and into another heap of snow. Sole chuckled to herself before shewent back to her fight with the icing.

It wasn’tlong before Duncan rushed back inside, red-cheeked and shivering, but stillwith a huge grin on his face. Dogmeat soon followed, covered in snow so snuglyone couldn’t even tell he was a German Shepherd anymore. He stood in the middleof the living room and tensed up.

“Oh, no,no, NO!” Sole managed to shout out as she ran to kick him out to the porch, butshe was too late. Dogmeat shook it all off on the beautiful rug she’d restoredwith such effort. Goddammit. “If youthink you’re getting back on the couch, young dog, you are very mistaken,” shesaid strictly. “You stay here in the mess that you made.”

Dogmeatwhined with his uncanny understanding and indeed sat his tail down on the wetrug. That probably wasn’t the best course of action, Sole thought, but she couldn’tback out of it now. She put some wood in the fireplace before going back to thekitchen.

“And you,Duncan, go change and please hangthese wet clothes near the fire, but not inthe fire, okay?”

Duncannodded and ran off. She still wasn’t over how much energy that kid had. But,she supposed, it was normal for children. She’d just never had a chance towitness it before. Her eyes teared up again, and she told herself it was fromthe heat of the cooking.

Duncan sooncame back, got himself busy with some toys, but then eventually ended up on therug with Dogmeat anyway. Sole watched them amused as Dogmeat rolled onto hisback to get some belly rubs, and Duncan, scratching him with one hand, drovethe toy car on his chest with the other. And when the toy inevitably fell offthe steep slope of a dog’s ribcage, Duncan reached over him for it and Dogmeatshamelessly licked him in the face. Duncan, caught by surprise, jumped backwith a surprised shriek before he laughed. Sole smiled. There was probably nothingmore joyful than a small child’s laugh.

“Aww, Ithink he likes you,” she said and Duncan giggled even more. Dogmeat pushed hishead under Duncan’s hand and the two were promptly playing together again.

Only a fewminutes had passed before the door opened again with another wave of cold airblowing into the house. Sole turned away from the stove just as Duncan yelled:“Hi, Daddy!” and ran to get a hug.

“Hi,buddy,” RJ said, putting his arm around him, and then promptly giving Sole anapologetic look. “I’m sorry it took so long, we—”

“Oh, shutup,” Sole cut him off and ran over, rising up to her toes to finally kiss him.His lips and cheeks were awfully cold, but she didn’t care. “It doesn’tmatter,” she said as she pulled away, sliding her hands down his chest. “Aslong as you’re okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, I’mfine. The snow surprised us a little. Some places, it was up to my waist and wehad to improvise. Have you ever had Strong give you a piggyback ride?”

“Wha—”

“Look,Daddy!” Duncan spoke up, having long gone back to playing with Dogmeat on therug. He was now climbing over Dogmeat’s back while the dog not only suffered itpatiently, but even seemed to enjoy it. And just as RJ moved to get him to stopin fears that he’d get hurt, Duncan continued delightedly: “And Mama said Doggylikes me!”

Thatstopped RJ dead in his tracks. Sole, too. Duncan had never called her thatbefore. RJ turned to her slowly with an odd expression. She didn’t know what tomake of it. Was he angry? Did he think she made Duncan say it? She shivered. Orwas he just in shock that after barely a month, his little boy was already…? Hewent over to the kitchen table, stiffly, sat down… and just started crying.Sole froze. Duncan didn’t notice there was anything wrong, thankfully, so whenshe could move again, Sole grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to thebedroom, saying, “Let’s go get you changed out of those, you’re freezing.”

It wasn’tthat she wasn’t shaken, especially with how Duncan just threw it in there, intoa normal sentence, like it was the most regular thing in the world. And thetruth was, he had never called her anything before, really. Somehow, thatfive-year-old kid managed to navigate every conversation in a way that allowedhim to avoid calling her anything else than ‘you’. So this did feel like a.50-caliber bullet to the chest.

But RJ wasin such state that all of that now faded away. He slumped to the edge of thebed like he got deflated, and immediately hid his face in his hands. Solekneeled on the floor next to him and could see tears glistening between his fingers. She rubbed his knee, but couldn’tfind any words to say. Only after a long while filled only with RJ’s stifledsobs and the quiet sounds of Duncan’s play coming from the other room did Solemanage to let out a sad sigh and whisper, “RJ…”

“I’m sosorry…!” he whimpered, barely keeping his voice down as he collapsed entirelyso that Sole had to embrace him and prop him up on her shoulder, or he would’vefallen off the bed.

“No, no…”she said, but he didn’t seem to be listening anymore. He just went on.

“Oh, God… Ijust never expected him to…” He held on to her for dear life, and thedesperation and pain behind his cries made her tear up, too. There was somethingsqueezing her throat already. “It’s been years… Years… And I stopped believingI’d ever hear him use that word again… And the first time I do, I think, ‘no,it’s not her’. Oh, God, Sole, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,RJ,” she could barely hold her own tears back. Something about the way he criedresonated deep within her and she couldn’t help herself. “I’m not trying tofill Lucy’s shoes. I don’t expect you to forget about her, I know you stilllove her.”

RJ wassilent for a longer while, clearly trying to regain his composure, before hefinally pulled away and looked her in the eye. He seemed calm, but his eyesbetrayed the freshly opened wounds he suffered from. “I do. But I love you,too. And I didn’t like feeling like that—angry, at my little boy. It wasn’t hisfault. He probably doesn’t remember Lucy at all…” His voice broke again, andSole had to blink away her tears. “It’s not his fault. It just… hurt, you know?Like she was being erased and… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Sole.”

“You don’thave to apologize, babe. I get it.”

Hesniffled. “…I know. You always do, don’t you?” He kissed her forehead, his handon the back of her neck as he pressed his lips against her skin. He then puthis cheeks to hers and stayed like that for a while. “I still remember it, likeit was just last week. Lucy was playing with him, holding him on his lap, andwe talked about something… the crops, I think? And suddenly, that little boyraised a toy in his hand and just said, ‘Mama!’… It was the first word he eversaid.”

Sole feltwhat was left of her tormented heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. “I’msorry,” she said. RJ looked at her in surprise, so she explained, “I feel likeI took that away from you.”

“No.” Hisvoice was suddenly adamant, as if seeing her crying, in pain, made him switchinto protector mode again. “No, you gave my son a home. If he’s able to acceptyou as his mother…”—even as he said that, his voice trembled, “I should behappy. It’s not your fault, and definitely not his, that I can’t handle moving on.”

“You’redoing just fine,” she reassured him with a smile. “As long as we love eachother, we’ll figure everything else out.” He nodded, but she could clearly seeshe made him emotional again. She wiped her face, completely covered in tearsshe didn’t even feel. “Wow,” she mumbled, “we are a pair of tragic messes.” RJlaughed softly, but only held on to her hand as she stood up. “Come on,sweetie. You promised to cook.”

And thatfinally tore a real, honest chuckle from his throat; Sole beamed up alongsidehim. They went back to the kitchen, hand in hand, but before she managed to puthim at the pots, RJ hurried to the duffel bag he had left near the door.

“Hey,Duncan,” he said, “do you wanna see your present?”

The boyjumped up from the rug, letting out something that only vaguely resembled avery loud ‘YES!’. He rushed to the table just as RJ was putting the duffel bagthere and asked, “Is that why you were gone for so long?”

“Yeah,buddy. Had to go get the best for you.” And with that, RJ reached into the bagand pulled out… a BB gun. Sole blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect him to dothat sort of thing, not after all those times when he said he didn’t wantDuncan to have the same life he did, full of violence and blood. But thenagain, was there really any other life to be made in the Commonwealth?

“I know, Iknow,” he said, seeing Sole’s surprised gaze. “But he needs to learn to protecthimself, and the earlier, the better, right? Besides, I mean, it’s just a BBgun, it’s not like he’s going to turn into me…”

Duncan,after doing a round around he house holding the small rifle like a commando,ran back and stood at the table, looking somewhat distraught. Sole took amoment to admire the worksmaship of the weapon. Even if it was just a glorified toy, the barrel was sleek black and the buttpolished to a shine, and there was something special in the way it was built.It must’ve been a unique. And she had no doubts RJ cleaned and oiled it atleast three times on his way back.

“Isanything wrong, love?” she asked noticing Duncan didn’t really know how tostart.

“No, Imean, I really like it, but…” He sucked his lips in, then pouted again. “I wanta scope, too.”

RJ glaredat him, like he wanted to say, ‘NO, YOU DON’T’, but before he could, Sole cautiouslyasked, “Why?”

“’Cause Iwanna be just like Daddy when he shoots.”

Solestifled a laugh, which was an especially difficult task, given RJ’s surprised,almost betrayed face in front of her. “Sure, Duncan,” she said. “We’ll figuresomething out tomorrow, how about that? And for now, just go and play with it,learn how it feels. Okay?” And as Duncan shuffled away, she looked back at RJ.“I think you may have miscalculated a bit, love.”

“Thatlittle…” He shook his head. “You do know it makes no sense, though.”

“Of course,but what harm could it be? I’ll make him a detachable short scope. Let him havefun with it, even if the gun’s range isn’t nearly enough.”

RJ sighedand only then stopped making faces in disbelief. He threw her another odd look,but this time it was one of the good kind. “I have something for you, too,actually,” he said, but before Sole could protest, he added, “it’s not much,don’t freak out. Just a memento, I suppose.” And then he took out a necklacefashioned out of an old silver chain and a rifle round, and placed it in herhand.

“What’sthis?” she asked, feeling like an idiot. RJ said it was a memento, so sheprobably should recognize it from somewhere, but she just couldn’t place it.But he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s thefirst round I shot after taking up with you. We encountered some raiders on theway to Diamond City? You were taking cover in front of me, and just as I wastaking aim, you stood up with those brass balls of yours and just went at ‘em.Distracted me so much I completely missed. I picked it up afterwards—at first,I was supposed to use it again, but then it just sort of traveled with me andnever found a way into my rifle. So…”

“It’sperfect,” she said, “I love it. Can you…?”

Evenfastening the necklace on her, RJ couldn’t help but make excuses. “I know it’snot much, but…”

“Hey.” Sheturned around and put her arms around his neck again. “It doesn’t matter, love.You already gave me the best Christmas gift I could ever dream of: a family.”

Piper

Solepromptly put it out of her mind—there was a lot to do. She woke Piper with akiss, the kind that made her murmur and stretch, and then put her arms aroundSole’s shoulders and pull her in for continuance. Her house in Diamond Citywasn’t big, but with Sole only dropping by from time to time when she managedto steal away from her other duties, it was more than enough. And even thoughit was insanely early for both of them, they already heard Nat bustling arounddownstairs.

“Wow,” Solesaid. “She got excited for Christmas.”

“Nat?Never,” Piper replied, getting out bed and rushing down the stairs, still onlyin her shirt and shorts. Sole took a moment to appreciate her legs and the waythe oufit showed off certain parts of her, before finally getting dressedherself and following her.

“MerryChristmas!” Nat, wearing an apron, shouted at their sight way more joyfullythan Sole had ever heard her speak. She didn’t even put down the ladle when shehugged them both warmly, and then went back to cooking. Piper looked like she’dbeen hit by lightning.

“What isgoing on?” she whispered to Sole as they went back upstairs to get dressed.“Did the Institute take her.”

“Stop it,”Sole laughed. “It’s just the holiday cheer.”

“No,seriously, Blue… I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Trust me,she’s just possessed by Christmas spirit.” Piper didn’t seem entirelyconvicted, but Sole couldn’t really offer her anything else. She still hadn’ttold her she’d decided to take over the Institute in order to make it betterfor the people of the Commonwealth. She had no idea how Piper would react. Soeven though she knew firsthand Nat was not swapped and that, in fact, no onewould get swapped for a synth ever again, she wasn’t going to tell her that onChristmas morning. “Look, if she still acts like this after the holidays, then you’ll have a reason to be worried.For now, just enjoy it. Come on, she’s cooking for us.”

“Yeah,that’s what worries me the most,” Piper mumbled. “But okay. I’ll put aside mymistrustful journalist nature aside… just for today.”

“Goodgirl,” Sole teased and kissed her again. “Now, come on, I wanna give you yourgift.”

“No!” Piperjumped in immediately. “Me first!” After which, she darted back downstairs withSole close at her heels.

“Really,you should probably see what I got f—” She didn’t finish as Piper pushed a boxup to her face like a little excited girl. It was flat, but quite big, with abig blue bow around it. “Okay…” Sole said as her brow raised, and Piperimmediately got all flustered and adorable.

“O-Okay,maybe I got a little bit too… But I just… Oh, just open it.”

So Sole didand inside she found a… a scrapbook? Well, it was definitely hand-made, withpages glued to the leather-bound cover with wonderglue, probably, and even thecover seemed to be taken from some other book. But it didn’t matter, becausewhen Sole opened it, she found pages and pages and pages of photos of her and Piper, and even some of the others,all from the time they spent traveling together. There was her conversationwith Nick, and here how she went to the mayor’s office, and on the next pagewere even photos of her breaking into Kellogg’s old house… But somehow, ‘thisreporter’ managed to keep herself from captioning every single one, insteadsettling for just a few sarcastic remarks here and there, like the one thatsaid “Justice served hot” at the photo of her going at some raiders with aflamer. Sole felt like she was about to burst out laughing, but instead shejust stood there in awe.

“You… Youwere taking photos the entire time?” she stuttered out, then raised her gaze tolook at Piper’s flustered face.

“Yeah, Imean… Didn’t you ever notice?”

“I… I don’tknow, I guess I didn’t. I mean, I saw you photographing everything else, justnot… me.” She went back to flipping through the pages. Here was their time atCovenant… There, their trip to Vault 81… And at the very end, on the last page,was only one photo—the one they’d made together at the beginning of theirrelationship, here in Diamond City, laying in Piper’s bed as Sole kissed hercheek and Piper couldn’t help but blush and laugh. And the caption said only, “HowI knew”. Sole felt tears pricking at her eyelids.

“Thank you,Red,” she managed to push through her tightened throat.

“You’rewelcome, Blue.” Piper looked like she was about to burst into tears herself,but held herself bravely as she pulled Sole in for a hug. They just couldn’tstay away from each other, could they?, Sole thought, burying her face inPiper’s hair.

“Hey, youtwo lovebirds, how about some help here?” Nat suddenly shouted from the otherside of the room. “Do I have to do everything alone?!”

Piperpulled away from Sole, sniffled; wiped away a tear hanging from Sole’seyelashes; and then she chuckled and said, “Gotta love family, huh?”

Preston

By the timeshe managed to gather strength to get out of bed, the entire town was buzzingwith people gathering up near the tree at the round square. She got dressed andfollowed suit, only to see Preston helping the settlers up several ladders tohang decorations from the branches. She kinda liked him in a position ofleadership. There was just something… something else to the way he distributed tasks among everyone, keeping thembusy, until the entire town worked together to make the most of this Christmas.It honestly warmed Sole’s heart as she walked towards them and people greetedher with happy voices and ‘Merry Christmas’es and ‘good to see you’s.

“Hello,General,” Preston said a bit sheepishly as she approached, even though his facewas sporting a wide grin.

“Hello, myFirst Officer,” she replied cheekily. She could swear he blushed a little, butthankfully, with him, only she was able to tell. “You’re having fun,” she addedas she motioned to the people around.

“It’s reassuringto see people come together and forget about their troubles on a day like this.”He smiled softly. He was talking about the settlers, but he looked only at her.Then he turned his face to the sun as his gaze drifted away and he said,“Everyone’s so cheerful and carefree.”

“What aboutyou?” Sole put her hand on his cheek to turn his face back to her. She didn’teven notice when they’d moved closer to each other, to the point where it mightstart being really uncomfortable to everyone around. She didn’t really care.“How is it today?”

“Could bebetter,” he said, and she knew he meant it was awful. “I mean, last year…”

“I know,”she stopped him before he could fall into that abyss again. “I know.”

Prestonkissed her forehead, drawing comfort for having her close. Or at least that’swhat she thought, given that it was exactly what she was doing.

“I’m justglad we found each other,” he said.

“Me, too.”

They stayedlike that for another minute, linked in that intimate embrace, as everyonebustled around them, shouting and laughing. The sun falling on the decorationscovered the ground around them in colorful flashes.

“Come on,”Preston said eventually, pulling away from her, though with clear effort. “Iwant to give you your present.”

“Shouldn’tyou keep watch on your lemmings?”

He blinkedat her. “What’s a ‘lemming’?”

Solepaused, staring into the distance. “Nevermind,” she replied eventually. “Oldworld stuff. Lead on, then. Where did you hide it?”

“Like I’mgoing to tell you,” he smiled at her. “Where would I hide your future presentsthen? Just wait here.” He left her at the porch of their house as hedisappeared behind the one across the street, but then he was gone for so longshe couldn’t tell where he went anymore. Bastard.

And then henearly gave her a heart attack when he came up from behind her saying, “Well,what are you waiting for?” As soon as she was done shrieking, she slapped hisarm as he laughed. Oh, it was so nice to see that poor man laughing. “Come intothe house, love. It’s there on the counter.”

And whenSole looked, she saw a fully modified laser musket laid out in the kitchen,obviously custom made, repainted in blue and white, and with the Minutemen logolovingly engraved on the side. She picked it up gently and turned it in herhands, marveling at the handiwork.

“You saidyou didn’t like the muskets for how long it took to wind them up, so I figuredout how to make it automatic,” Preston said, coming up and embracing her frombehind. “Do you like it?”

“Huh.” Sheput it to her shoulder and let go a quick series of lasers through the openside door at the wreck of her old car that was still standing on the drivewayeven though she was supposed to break it down to pieces probably like twomonths ago. But, well, it turned to ash in a matter of seconds now, so… problemsolved? She threw Preston a glance over her shoulder just to see his perplexedface. Oops. Seems he didn’t expect her to just start shooting it right away. “Ilove it,” she said cheerfully, and bent herself awkwardly to pull him in for akiss. Preston shook his head leniently, but gave in to her and they spent thenext few minutes passionately making out in the middle of the living room asSole only tried not to drop her new gift on the floor.

“Now,”Preston said when they finally ran out of breath and had to pull away, “time toget back to our family, huh?”

[thrushcrossgranged]

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (1861)

1. Canonicity:

I think Great Expectations is part of the canon mostly due to its popularity at the time it came out. Charles Dickens is/was already an insanely popular author and this is one of if not his most commercially and critically popular works. Other than Shakespeare he is pretty much the biggest English author. Charles Dickens was also a wealthy white man. People of color are not represented in the narrative. Even though it is a work about social justice issues there isn’t really any room for discussion of intersectionality.

2. Contexts:

I have actually always felt like Dickens does a good job of giving you a window into the time period he’s writing about. He can be fairly dramatic but you get a good picture of how life was at the time and there are enough specific details to learn about the time and build an understanding of setting. That being said the narrative would certainly be different if the character was a different race or gender as they would probably face even more hardships than Pip already does. Though Pip is a rags to riches story, he starts with nothing but the dream of working his way up to be a gentleman. Even if he was a person of color the narrative would still hold up, there were people of color in London society in the mid 19th century. They were few and far between but it would still historically add up.

3. Literary Elements:

I don’t think context is necessary for the book. It would be nice to know a little bit about 19th century London but again, I think the book does a remarkable job of describing that for you. I think pre-reading is nice but I don’t think it is ever strictly necessary for something. I think that having an understanding of the social systems of the era and Charles Dickens does make the book more enjoyable. I think the weight of the messages are easier to tap into with context.

The text does not include minority characters. Which is disappointing but honestly when I read it I was just kind of grateful since I was certain the depictions would not have aged well considering Fagin from Oliver. It’s sort of interesting how few even minor characters exist in works in the Literary canon. Even thinking about it now if you exclude narratives centered around racism or race being a central conflict to the plot I can name about two characters of color. I’m not even sure they are good examples since one is the nameless “Arab Man” murdered by the narrator in The Stranger and Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. I mean it’s worth noting that there is some debate around Heathcliff, which I personally found quite shocking since in my opinion the book is quite clear.

4. Teacher/Reader:

Obviously I bring my identity into everything I read, it would be impossible for me to forget who I am and where I come from. That being said I feel like my own experience with reading, especially assigned reading and works within the Literary Canon I sort of abandon the idea of relating to a character on race, religion, sexual orientation, gender, etc. and look for personality traits I can connect to. I slipped into an understanding that there will never be a main character who is anything like me identity wise and I just have to make peace with that. I think at times this fact can cause me to resent books, especially when the main character is someone I feel really disconnected with personality wise. I can just start feeling really ostracized by the reading experience and start disliking the book. As I have gotten older I’ve realized more that even if I don’t find value in something or find any purpose in reading it that doesn’t mean that no one can.

5. Assessments:

Absolutely yes, I genuinely believe that you aren’t reading Dickens right if it doesn’t make you think about social change. His books have inspired people to care about class oppression for decades. Karl Marx has been quoted as being impressed with Dickens' writing in regard to political and social issues.

In extension of what I was talking about before, I will say I did really connect with Pip when I read this book. His narrative of being an outsider desperate to fit in really struck me. I felt I was also able to learn a lot from him because of both our similarities and our differences, his socio-economic status is much different than my own and seeing his struggle did broaden my view. Which is the whole point of Pip and other Dickens characters like him. Dickens was known for his social commentary and I’m going to bastardize this quote but he said something along the lines of, “Virtue shows through even in rags,” in regards to his depiction of characters who were not of high social standing. At the time Oliver Twist was written middle and upper class people of London really thought that being poor also meant you had no morals, there was a sort of understanding that lower classes were made up of criminals. That theme is also present in Great Expectations. You are meant to think about the morality of characters and how their social standing does or doesn’t affect that.

It is difficult for me to give my 100% approval of this novel as a piece of literature to teach. I knew that when I read this discussion prompt it would be really easy for me to choose a book from the canon that I hate and complain about having had to read it and how I can’t find any value in it but I felt like it would be a more worthwhile exercise to do a book I care about. I love Great Expectations, I really do, but what separates this book from something like 1984 textually. I personally relate to the main character in one more? They are both about social issues, both incredibly white. I will say female characters are allowed depth in Great Expectations in contrast to whatever Julia had going on. I don’t want to make kids of color have to pack up and put away their identities to connect to a book more. I don’t want to keep perpetuating this cycle but it’s quite a daunting task to imagine finding a book with as much impact as this one.

[quietpagan]

TH: What Falls and What Grows, ch. 13

"What is a weed?  A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Fortune of the Republic 

 Alex didn’t have to wonder if Kanjigar noticed her modifications to his library. She rearranged the books every time she used it, by size or color or state of repair, and left half of them laying on the bed with a lantern or cup of tea on the cover. She didn’t have to mention it. His face said enough.

“Nice Eric Clapton collection,” she greeted him with.

A muscle in Kanjigar’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say a word. He wouldn’t comment – a celebrated former Trollhunter didn’t rant about the misuse of his worldly possessions – but she could see that she was annoying him.

That’s for making me haul your dead ass out of my apartment.

“So you’ve finally decided to answer our summons.”

“I think you know why I’m here,” Alex replied. Around them, the statues of previous Trollhunters muttered and glowed. Alex licked her teeth and glared at them.

“A little impolite to be calling me ‘abomination’ when Deya the Deliverer herself was a Ch-“

“Impudent!” “She mocks us!”

“Were you all so sensitive when you were alive,” Alex muttered. Kanjigar, floating quietly in front of her, looked as though he was an inch away from smacking somebody.

“Not everything is as it used to be, Trollhunter,” he said. “Things change.”

“Obviously. Either being a Changeling was celebrated back then or nobody knew.”

“It was not common knowledge,” Kanjigar conceded, “But circumstances were different. Deya was not like you.”

The triumph in Alexandra’s breast flared into anger.

“YOU – “

“Deya the Deliverer was never taken by Gumm-Gumms,” Kanjigar said, raising his voice to talk over her. “She wasn’t changed, not like you were. She wasn’t…”

The words hung in between them, and although Alex knew he would never say them to her face she still heard them.

“An experimental abomination meant for spying and cannon fodder?” “Do not get defensive. Those are your words, not mine,” said Kanjigar. “You looked in every book for Deya the Deliverer’s origins, I know. I watched. You found nothing because there was nothing.”

Then what?

“So, I’m just supposed to accept that she was a Changeling, but not a bad Changeling like me? What the hell is the difference?”

The spirits above them were pulsating with angry energy, but Kanjigar calmed them with a glare and a motion of his hand. He seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“Changelings were not a Gumm-Gumm invention,” Kanjigar said after a long and tense minute.

“Once, when a troll infant was sickly or weak, it would be swapped for a healthy human child. Glamours were cast onto both children, to make them appear as the other, and they would grow up in their new families as if nothing had happened. If they somehow met, however, the spells placed upon them would become binding, and they could switch forms at will.

“Deya, a troll who had grown and lived in a human household, met with the human she had been abandoned for just before the war began. In a fit of jealous rage she fought with and killed her familiar, and was banished from her human home. Her birth family, however, hailed her for her strength and invited her back.

“Disgusted with their capricious nature, she refused, and wandered until she met the young general of a swiftly strengthening army. She became his wife and second-in-command until she saw first-hand what he wanted to do to the human world that had been her home.”

Alexandra’s spine shivered in shock.

“She left Gunmar’s army when he proposed to make her his spy, and that was when Gumm-Gumms created the methods used to make Changelings such as yourself.” ”And somehow this didn’t become common knowledge? I didn’t even know this and I’m sure that Blinky doesn’t.”

“Such a practice has long been lost with the creation of modern Changelings. The war decimated everything and everyone; most of the former breed of Changeling were killed, and the majority of our documents and history were destroyed.”

“But you know. You all knew. You must have all conveniently forgot that little tidbit.”

“There are more important things than your personal feelings, Trollhunter.” Alex tapped the amulet on her chest.

“Yes, Trollhunter. This is important! You think that we can ever have peace, even with Bular and Gunmar’s deaths, while you’re still ostracizing the entire Changeling population? These are your kids that you’re spitting on now, and there are a lot more than you know! These people have power in this world. They are the bridges between human and trollkind. Being the Trollhunter should mean looking out for them as well.” Even if they’re dicks. “As you’ve clearly shown.”

The mist swirled around them, and an image of her choking the Changeling at Bath floated through the air. Alexandra drew her sword and slashed the image back into mist.

“I’m not trying to say that we should establish a Hug Your Local Changeling campaign. I’m saying that both sides treat us like shit for something that we couldn’t control, and you’re never going to achieve true peace if you continue to refuse to even consider accepting us.”

“While your people remain as Gunmar’s spies, there is little that can be done for them.”

“They’re only Gunmar’s spies because they don’t know any better,” Alexandra said irritably. “But in order for them to leave his side they need somewhere else to go!” Souls of former Trollhunters swirled angrily around her and Kanigar’s glowing spirit.

“They can never be welcome!” “She courts disaster!” “Abominations!” Alexandra waved a hand at the stone bodies above them.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said to Kanjigar. “Why would they leave Gunmar just to go to people that treat them exactly the same?” “You won’t be able to change peoples’ minds,” he told her softly. “We are a very reactive race. Your actions will cause nothing but mass panic.” Alexandra banished her armor, and the Void abruptly disappeared. She knew they could still watch her, which was more than mildly disturbing, but at least she didn’t have to hear them.

She’d scope out Trollmarket; she’d go to different troll communities, and see what they thought on the subject. Surely there were some who felt uneasy about how Changelings were treated? Surely there were some who couldn’t bring themselves to hate their son or daughter who had been taken and Changed.

Heartstone Trollmarket’s reaction to her own faked Changeling ‘reveal’ had been discouraging and disheartening, but trolls were adaptable and could be convinced to change their minds if an idea was presented in the right way.

She practiced her forms alone in the Forge until Blinky and AAARRRGGHH came. Oddly, Vendel was with them.

“Supervising, sir?”

Vendel snorted. “Hardly. Upon the discovery of a piece of Killahead Bridge, I’ve decided to supplement your training earlier than originally intended. Finish your forms, Trollhunter. I want to see how you do against multiple opponents.”

Vendel settled down on the stairs on the edge of the arena, placing a small jeweled box down beside him.

Alexandra didn’t have to puzzle over what he’d teach her, because AAARRRGGHH shot a fist at her head.

Woah!

He came at her fast, and she rolled out of the way only to have to retreat from Blinky, who had grabbed a spear and was twirling it with disturbing efficiency.

“Avast, Master Alexandra!”

Alex retreated, banishing all but her sword and breastplate for speed.

“Where did you learn how to use a spear,” she muttered. Blinky laughed and threw it at her head. The helmet appeared over her face just before the spear nicked her ear. AAARRRGGHH tried to swipe her feet out from under her and she jumped, landing in a roll before picking up the fallen spear. Blinky already had two more in his arms.

“My brother and I used to play with spears often! Though he had a stronger jab than I, I daresay that I got rather good.”

Alex ran away from AAARRRGGHH’s flying fists and shot the spear back at Blinky, who caught it. He slowly twirled the three spears between his fingers, and something in the triumphant glare in his eyes shot something pleasantly warm and exceedingly unwanted through her pelvis.

She dodged another hit from AAARRRGGH and stood straight, dropping her sword arm and placing her hands on her hip.

“Damn, Blinky,” she hummed. “You actually look very nice holding a weapon like that.”

The arena seemed to freeze over; a fist half the size of her body froze about a foot above her head. Blinky dropped one of his spears in shock, spluttering.

“I – you – there is no – you, you can’t possibly think– “

Alexandra, who had been planning to use the moment to strike, had to bend over and laugh. There was a snort from Vendel on the sidelines, but she couldn’t tell if it was amused or disgusted.

“I’m so sorry,” Alex gasped, straightening up and laughing at the ceiling. “I was planning on using that as a distraction, but your face…ah!”

Blinky glowered.

“Highly amusing and inappropriate, Master Alexandra.”

Alex stopped laughing and swung her sword upward, nicking AAARRRGGHH’s hovering fist. He slammed the other down just as she lunged out the way.

“Effective though,” she called, right before a rock bounced off her shoulder blade; she’d forgotten about Vendel. As she turned her attention to him a growl echoed to her right, and she was forced to jump out of the way before AAARRRGGHH tackled her. The back of his hand connected with her breastplate while she was still in the air and she flew into a wall, probably only avoiding a concussion due to her helmet. She slid down the wall and landed on the floor in a pained heap. That hit seemed a bit excessive, and she stood up with a groan.

No flirting with Blinky. Understood.

Dust rose as Alex propelled herself across the floor in a tight ball, something that wasn’t natural for her body but that Draal had taught her anyway, and she managed to knock AAARRRGGHH to the side. Blinky, recovered from his affronted shock, spun his spears in an attack and she simultaneously avoided them and AAARRRGGHH’s attempt to grab her legs. Her sword summoned once more, she blocked a hit to the chest and sent a spear flying over the edge of the arena.

Her heart raced beneath her armor so hard she was sure that someone would hear it. AAARRRGGHH’s fists seemed to come out from nowhere and his towering body was deceptively fast, and Alex had to duck and weave tirelessly to escape his long reach. Her sword decapitated a spear and she caught the last one as the end of it tried to smash into the side of her neck. Blinky hauled back and she jumped forward, using the momentum to launch herself over his head. He yelped helplessly as he was pulled backward, and Alex tugged the spear from his hand when he landed on the floor. The rock Vendel threw at her back was bat across the arena.

“Adequate,” said the old troll, rising from the stairs.

“Your concentration wanes in favor of your tricks, Trollhunter, but your reflexes are more than sufficient. Let’s hope that they are enough.”

Old goat.

“Your duty will undoubtedly get more difficult, now that Bular has a measure of your mettle. I sense that dark times are ahead of us, and your training will have to be expediated.”

“The fact that both goblins and Bular himself were present at the museum is very concerning,” said Blinky, standing up and brushing himself off. “If Bular is reconstructing the Killahead Bridge, he would have it built wherever he resides, and there is no reason for him to be at the museum unless he was staying there.” “Which means that he has human help,” Alex said, glad that they had reached their own conclusions. “Or…?” Blinky and AAARRRGGHH exchanged an uneasy glance.

“It is most possible, Master Alexandra, that he is working with Changelings.” “The museum,” rumbled AAARRRGGHH.

“Indeed. One of the museum employees may be a Changeling.” “So, what – we just go up and shove a gaggletack in everyone’s faces? I think we would cause a bit of a fuss.”

“Ah hah! Such is why we have brought these.”

Blinky picked up the jeweled chest that Vendel had brought and opened it.

Alexandra had never been one for shiny things.

“It’s…rocks. Hallelujah.”

Blinky closed the box with an unamused glare.

“A little more excitement and veneration, if you please,” he said dryly. “These are stones that past Trollhunters used to unlock various powers within their armor.” “Each gem possesses certain properties that, when combined with the magic of Merlin’s amulet, grants the bearer command of numerous crafts and enchantments.”

Ten minutes later found Alexandra empty-handed, swatting away rocks and small boulders before they could get within a foot of her. She wished desperately for her fourth eye, because in order to repel whatever was thrown at her she needed to actually see it first. The stone from Raglor the Repulsive was useful, but perhaps not her thing.

Sigrid the Shadowless’s stone, however, she snatched up in an instant.

The Leoht Stone, to walk in daylight, Alex thought wryly. Useful.

“A good stone indeed, for your next mission,” said Vendel. Alexandra closed the back of her amulet over the handy little jewel and placed it back on her armor.

“Where am I going this time?”

“Upstairs,” said Vendel. “You are to find out how much of the Killahead Bridge Bular and his henchmen have accumulated, and make certain that we know where they are building it.” “Is that all.”

“All other calls, all training can be put on hold, impudent youngster. The Bridge cannot be reconstructed, at risk of destroying this world as we know it. Find the Bridge, find the Changelings, and destroy both.” “Is that all.”

Vendel snorted and tapped his staff against the chest in Blinky’s arms.

“It’s not as if I asked you to kill Bular,” he said. “Choose wisely, and good luck to you.”

“Thanks. I’ll go through the sewers, when it’s still light out. Blinky, here, help me pick out some of these…”

“You are surely not going alone,” the other troll said, closing the lid of the chest. Alex looked up in surprise.

“Why not? Kanjigar went it alone.” “And was felled, unfortunately. You have only just begun your training and although you are formidable in your own right, I would feel more comfortable without you ‘going it alone’.” Alex leaned back and crossed her arms, grinning ferally.

“Fine. You’re with me.” The other troll jerked away, as if afraid she would try to flirt with him again.

“Me? Why?” You’re actually quite good in a pinch.

“Cannon fodder,” she said instead. Six eyes rolled.

“Ah, well. I was afraid you were going to say something complementary.”

A rumbling to the side alerted Alexandra that she was wading in dangerous waters. An eye glanced at a bristling AAARRRGGHH and she pointedly rubbed a hand over the back of her skull.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” she said. “I need sleep, not a date. AAARRRGGHH you, unfortunately, are not really built for sneaking around. And I do need more of those stones – what else is there?” It took almost two hours for her to pick out two more gems that didn’t rub her the wrong way and weren’t too difficult to master in a short time. One granted the user invisibility, as long as she stayed still and pretended to be whatever she was trying to blend in against. The other sharpened her hearing, and she had to be incredibly careful with it; the first time she tried using it she almost deafened herself with the sound of Blinky and AAARRRGGHH’s digestive systems rumbling like rockslides.

Any other stones were too unpredictable or difficult to master without being liabilities, and she would leave them to another day.

Both stones needed to be practiced among company, and Alexandra took her training outside the Forge and into the bustling streets of Trollmarket. She got quite a lot of strange looks, freezing in place with what was probably a very stupid face, trying to concentrate on being invisible, but after a short while she could stand in the middle of the path and disappear, to the immense shock and amusement of the trolls around her.

Alexandra even got to answer another call, though it was from Bagdwella again. The second stone, used by Hloda the Thunderous, enabled her to hear the quiet chattering of a conspiring group of gnomes, and with a little deafening applause and ear-splitting praise, she was able to locate and capture the hidden group with minimal fuss.

Her third and final practice for the day, however, took place in the privacy of her own rooms.

The influx of cats had petered off, much to Alex’s relief. Draal, wherever he was, probably was far enough away that sneaking into Trollmarket was more of an inconvenience than anything else. As it was, Alex had a purring blanket of critters laying on every limb whenever she bothered to come by and sleep in her own space.

She gently shooed a tabby kitten away from the center of her room and sat down with a groan. She’d been so busy, reading up on trolls and talking to ghosts and training and visiting fucking England that she’d forgotten to be sore and exhausted, and now that she had a minute to herself she wanted to sleep for a month.

Sighing heavily, a hand dug into her pocket and pulled out the amulet before she could fall into a doze in the middle of the floor. The glow of the thing shone through her fingers.

Five on the top. Four on the bottom. Heh.

“Alright, you shiny bastard,” she muttered, feeling around its edges and ridges. “I’ve seen you teleport. We’re going to work on that.”

Ten minutes later, and Alex threw the amulet out of the window. She rejected it in her mind, and in half a second it was sitting back on her knee, glittering. How an inanimate object could look mischievous, Alexandra did not know, but the stupid thing managed it.

“Excellent,” Alexandra hissed, taking it back up and donning her armor. “Now do that, but with me.”

She focused on rejecting the amulet; rejecting her position as Trollhunter; rejecting her entire existence; rejecting her cats, Kanjigar’s books, sautéed mushrooms, her favorite Hendrix songs, everything, and her ass stayed seated in the middle of her small, gently lit room.

I’m sorry for calling you a motherfucking cockwhistle? Alex tried, to no avail. Cursing at the amulet didn’t work either.

Her legs were getting sore by the time she decided to give it up. She’d fall asleep sitting on the floor before she managed to teleport with the amulet.

Unhesitant now to relax, Alex focused on her physical presence, the comfortable and uncomfortable parts of her body. The floor was cold and hard, harder than her skin, the muscles underneath which were tense with strain and lack of sleep and food. She tried relaxing them, from the face down. She imagined her presence, her body, scattered; no more tense muscles, no more sore joints, no more numb fingers and aching feet –

“FUCK!”

Water filled her mouth as she was suddenly immersed in a warm, vaguely smelly pool.

“HAH!” Alex waded to the side of the pool, the glimmering blackness of the walls of the public baths – the first place in Trollmarket where she had really relaxed – shining all around her. The single troll bathing there watched her in bemusement.

Alex coughed and spat up a gob of metallic water, and saluted to him as she pulled herself out of the bath and lay down on the warm floor. Even for the short distance between her rooms and the baths, she was exhausted.

“Evening, gent,” she said, water running down her chin.

“Whatever.”

Her laughter echoed over the smooth walls and through the corridors as she banished her armor and fell asleep against the stone.

  Blinky pat down his pockets.

“Do you think I will require rope? Surely a good steady length should come in handy. But no, no, no, it’ll be too bulky – suppose it gets caught on something. Perhaps a flint – one never knows when a few pyrotechnics may come in handy. My friend, do you think perhaps that I should bring one of our gaggletacks…but this is merely a scouting mission, we shouldn’t raise suspicion that we are on to them…”

“Thinking too much,” rumbled AAARRRGGHH, who patiently handed Blinky whatever item he asked for or idly discarded.

“Yes, but what about weaponry? If we are to locate Bular, having a weapon handy could save a life…” A hand hovered over a spear abandoned between two bookcases. A mischievous smile and darkened eyes flashed in his mind, and he quickly drew his hand back.

“I don’t expect that I could convince her to bring you instead, my friend?” AAARRRGGHH, who had eyed the spear as well, shook his head.

“Too big,” he said softly. “I would draw attention.” “I suppose so,” Blinky had to acknowledge, even though he was decidedly uncomfortable with leaving AAARRRGGHH behind. Not only was his friend good in a tight spot, but he was a constant source of comfort and assurance.

He was reluctant to admit it out loud, though he was certain that AAARRRGGHH knew anyway, but he was discomfited by the idea of being alone with the Trollhunter. Her entire course of training so far had been a ‘roller-coaster’, as the humans might say, of high and low points. She was a savage fighter, but she broke the traditional rules of engagement by letting Draal live. She injured Bular the Vicious and kept both Blinky and AAARRRGGHH from being killed, and then he had gone and publicly humiliated her, disgracing himself by accusing her of being a Changeling. They found a piece of Killahead Bridge, uncovering the conspiracy of the millennia, and then the blasted woman went and flirted with him.

Her personality was as unpredictable as a Stalkling’s hunting habits, and nearly as predatory. She certainly wasn’t like Kanjigar, who was steady and consistent in every aspect.

Of course, it probably helped that he had known Kanjigar for a few hundred years. Admittedly, Alexandra had not had many opportunities to relax…or, frankly, to trust them.

Blinky paused in the middle of his absent muttering and agitated fidgeting to take a box out of AAARRRGGHH’s hands.

“Careful…” “Ah, the Bridge piece. Should we take it for comparison…?” He gently opened the box, his eyes catching the glimpse of an edge before he shut it firmly.

“No,” he said. “Too dangerous. If they have pieces assembled already, we cannot afford to gift them with another.”

AAARRRGGHH shifted and settled down beside him. For the first time in an hour Blinky stayed in one spot, running his hands over and over the box.

He turned it about, examining the decorations carved into the wooden lid and sides, the metalwork on the iron hinges. The key rested in the keyhole, and he softly locked it, then unlocked it. The key turned, the box opened smoothly when he lifted the lid.

He locked it. Tested the closure – unlocked it. Opened it. No problem.

Alexandra hadn’t been able to open the box.

Closed the box, locked it. Unlocked it. Opened the box.

Something underneath his skin was crawling with an uncomfortable prickling.

The funny thing about protective boxes was that they often had a charm or spell on them, to shield whatever was within. Some boxes sensed evil intentions; some could only be opened by women; some only by someone who sang the password.

Many boxes from the time of the war, however, had been made to only open to trolls. Any human, goblin, or Changeling that attempted the lock would be refused.

Alexandra couldn’t open box.

Great Gronka Morica, he was doing it again!

“Things would go much more smoothly if I could stop doubting the woman,” Blinky angrily muttered, locking the box and pushing it into back AAARRRGGHH’s hands.

“Enough of this,” he said to himself. AAARRRGGHH gave him an encouraging little grin when he looked up, and he braced himself for an interesting night.

  They waited for her by the gyre station, and they didn’t have to wait long.

Alexandra came marching up to them, slightly damp and smelling of sulfur. She waved the Daylight Amulet in front of her.

“Did you know it teleports?” she asked, a grin spreading across her mouth. “It’s exhausting but I can get short distances from it.”

“That’s not from one of the Trollhunters’ stones,” Blinky murmured, looking at the amulet in confusion. “What did you put in it?” “Nothing! It teleports back whenever I throw it at something, so I thought that it could do it with me too. It took a while and you’ve really got to concentrate on not existing, which is really kind of funky, but it works! Don’t you think this will be useful in a fight? It’s too tiring to use more than a few times, and only for a few feet probably but…” Alexandra continued to ramble, to AAARRRGGHH and Blinky’s amazement. He had never seen her so openly excited about something; his library and Kanjigar’s had been met with wide eyes and interest, but she had kept her enthusiasm to a minimum. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her talk so much at one time.

“You discovered a new power?” Alexandra grinned down at him, silently donned her armor, and disappeared.

Blinky whirled around as she appeared right behind him, looking a bit winded but bright-eyed and elated.

“Indeed I have,” she said smugly. AAARRRGGHH happily poked at her as Blinky laughed.

“Good Gorgus, you’re unlocking your armor! That has never happened so quickly – even Kanjigar the Courageous took over a year to begin exploring the amulet’s power.” Alexandra preened.

“This is an incredible discovery – but you must be cautious,” Blinky said as he thought more on the potential drawbacks. “If it is truly exhausting, then you must be exceeding careful when and how you use it. Only in the more dire of circumstances could this be utilized, until your mastery of it grows stronger.” Alexandra nodded seriously, taking the horngazel off of Blinky and opening the portal to the gyre. The light from the portal bounced off her armor, and Blinky noticed that she walked differently, stood differently than she had when first entering Trollmarket. Some unknown power had straightened her back and relaxed her center, until she actually looked comfortable, in both her own skin and in her environment. The armor finally suited her.

The world above was experiencing midday when they said their goodbyes to AAARRRGGHH and left the portal. Sunlight brightened the sewer tunnels indirectly, filtered through street drains and manhole covers. It wasn’t enough to harm him, but Blinky avoided the brightest areas anyway. He was exceedingly nervous without AAARRRGGHH’s vast, calm presence.

Blinky led the way, having travelled through the sewers many times before. It had been a very long time since he’d used the underground tunnels to visit the museum, but he was confident that he knew how to get there. Their journey was silent for the most part, the muffled rumble of automobiles, running water, and soft dripping echoing with their quiet footsteps. Occasionally a drop of water would leak from a pipe and plink against Alexandra’s armor.

He couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Master Alexandra, I must speak,” Blinky whispered. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Iwonderedhowlongitwouldtake’.

“I must apologize,” said Blinky quietly, “about how we have behaved toward you. You have acted honorably toward us all, and we mistrusted you as a stranger. I accused you of being a Changeling with only conjecture and presumption, something that could have been the death of you. We did not trust that the amulet knew what it was doing, we did not trust your unorthodox methods, and I fear that our suspicion and skepticism has been detrimental to both your training and your reputation as Trollhunter.” Alexandra said nothing, looking forward into the passageway with furrowed brows and tense mouth.

“…I suppose I didn’t really give you reason to trust me,” she murmured, after a long minute of silence. “I was secretive about what I’d done with Kanjigar, I’ve been reserved about myself…and I am a stranger. Kanjigar, at least, you knew before he became the Trollhunter, right?” Blinky nodded and she smiled grimly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity or the willingness to open up to people,” she whispered. “It’s a lot safer to be on your own, but…perhaps it’s not always the best.”

“You have a support system now,” Blinky said, keeping his eyes to the dark of the tunnel. He hoped to every Trollhunter he’d previously admired that she wouldn’t take his words the wrong way.

“I, for one, will support you in whatever you endeavor,” he mumbled. Alexandra snorted quietly and examined her hands.

“I guess a filthy sewer isn’t a horrible place to make a new friend,” she said. “And I’m sorry, for making you feel uncomfortable.”

Blinky raised an eyebrow, finally looking her in the eye. She was gazing steadily back. He hadn’t realized until then how horrific her scarred eye was; knotted shut, the still-healing skin around the rip across her cheek and nose raised and jagged. Even for trolls, it was an ugly scar, on top of a debilitating injury.

“I was trying to disorient you…and you’re far too old for me, anyway.”

“Mmm? By what margin, might I ask?” “A good two hundred years, at least,” Alexandra murmured, fiddling with the amulet in her pocket. “I was born around 1630 or so.”

Blinky felt a bit of glee at actually getting that tiny bit of information, and resolved not to look up all troll children born within a ten-year margin of 1630. If he was going to respect her properly, then he would start with not digging into her frustrating and elusive family history.

They continued forward in silent amicability until they came upon a passage too immense, too rough, to be part of the man-made tunnels leading to it. The air smelled very heavily of troll, and very faintly of goblin.

Alexandra took point then, silently summoning her armor and drawing her sword. The tunnel looked hand-carved, widened until someone Bular’s size could comfortably reach their arms and stand straight.

They met nobody in the tunnel, and at the very end was a thick sheet of metal covering the ceiling. Alexandra motioned for Blinky to stand back, and placed a hand on her amulet.

Her eyes closed and her head turned upward, and Blinky understood that she was using the stone of Hloda the Thunderous to listen for anyone within the museum.

Having nothing else to look at, one eye slid down until it rested on her hands, gripping the roughened wall in front of them. Four fingers on the bottom; five on the top.

Alexandra looked down an inch, and raised an eyebrow.

“You like my genetic anomalies?” she whispered tensely. Blinky couldn’t answer before she shook her head.

“I don’t hear anything,” she murmured. “I’m going up.” “Er…is there anything I…?” “Stay here,” she whispered forcefully. “I can turn invisible; you can’t.”

Blinky nodded and stepped back. Alexandra banished her armor and slowly pushed the sheet of metal away from the opening. Blinky gave her a leg up, blinking in the light that flooded into the pitch-black tunnel, and she disappeared, pushing the metal back into its place.

He desperately hoped that Bular was asleep somewhere and not wandering around the sewers, about to come back to the museum. All he had on him was the horngazel and the daily detritus in his pockets, and he was too short to properly reach the opening himself.

Stuck by himself in the darkness, he could only think.

She was older than he’d supposed. Perhaps her family had travelled with the Winthrop fleet in 1630, which had carried twenty-two trolls between their ships. But to his knowledge, none of his sister clan’s members had journeys to the Americas until 1637. And he was certain of  that, because he and Vendel had been the only trolls in the New World documenting immigration and birth records at that time, until colonies of trolls were established over more of the continent.

(Or her family had bribed Blinky’s contacts on the East Coast to not document them)

(Or her family had snuck ashore and avoided the contacts)

(Or, or, or)

Which meant that Alexandra, again, had lied through her teeth. And he’d thought that she was truly opening up! Why couldn’t the infuriating woman just give him a straight fact for once in their acquaintance? Apparently she still thought it better not to trust people, including her trainer!

Blinky fumed and paced for a few minutes after that revelation, grumbling to himself. He supposed that he didn’t have to know her past or her age or her history or anything about her to trust her as the Trollhunter. The amulet had chosen her, whatever she decided to keep from everyone.

At least she hadn’t truly been trying to court him. That was a thought that gave him shivers. Not only would it have been highly inappropriate, but the contradictory imbalances of power between them would have made such an action into a very difficult situation, since she was both his student and his superior. Although the Trollhunter was technically a servant of his or her people they still held quite a lot of power and clout, despite not actually being a leader of trollkind. Trollhunters were awarded special privileges and exemptions, although they were certainly not immune to punishment from higher powers. To Blinky’s knowledge no trainer had been flirted at by their Trollhunter, but it would have put them in an exceptionally awkward position of either bedding their student or refusing someone of a higher rank than they.

The knowledge that Alexandra hadn’t meant anything by her false advance, but was willing to use whatever wiles and tricks were up her sleeves to disorient her enemies, both amused and unsettled Blinky. Flirting with Bular, for example, could only end in disaster.

And thinking of, what in Deya’s good name were they going to do about the bridge? Even if they found the thing, they would have to take on Bular, a horde of goblins, and however many Changelings the Gumm-Gumm had access to in order to destroy it. Although Alexandra had advanced incredibly fast, she was still relatively untrained and unknown in relation to Trollhunters before her, and Blinky knew that she was going to burn out soon. She had researched and trained tirelessly since being chosen, and although he admired her commitment to her duty he knew that the vexatious woman still was not taking care of herself. Some time or another he would have to supplement her Trollhunter training with lessons on how to eat and rest like a proper damn troll (pardoning his own horrible sleep patterns).

There was a sudden rustling from up top, and he was briefly blinded as the sheet of metal was yanked away. Alexandra dropped down the hole and reached up to pull it closed, enclosing them once more in darkness.

Blinky didn’t have time to ask her what had happened before his right hands were grabbed and he was pulled into a run. He stumbled for a moment before finding his legs, but Alexandra didn’t speak or slow down. Just before they turned the corner the metal scraped, and light flooded the tunnel behind them. Alexandra shoved Blinky ahead of her and turned around, throwing her sword toward the light. There was a brief, pained squawk.

“The horngazel,” she whispered to Blinky, summoning her sword again. “The horngazel, give it to me!” Blinky shoved the crystal into her hands and she doubled back, slicing a goblin in half and pulling the metal closed again. She drew a yellow circle around the edge of it and slashed a red X over it, effectively sealing it from everything but brute force.

They ran again as she pocketed the crystal.

“Where…where did you learn that?” Blinky gasped, pulling on the Trollhunter’s arm as she started to go down the wrong tunnel.

“You gave me an entire library,” Alexandra said incredulously. “I looked up the protections of Trollmarket first thing!”

“And what in Deya’s name happened back there? Did you see the Bridge?” They came upon a corner and Alexandra stopped them, peering carefully around the edge before continuing. They were coming out of Bular’s pathways and back into the main sewer.

“A Changeling saw me,” Alexandra whispered, her head turning to every drop of water or groan of piping. “I fucked up with the invisibility stone, lost my concentration. I did see the Bridge, it’s more than half fucking complete!”

Blinky cursed under his breath. “You’re sure it was a Changeling?”

“It’s the curator of the museum, I think. And I should think she’s a damn Changeling, because human eyes don’t normally glow.”

This was a dire confirmation. Unlike goblins, who came as a legion of many, Changelings usually worked alone or in small groups, but even one was formidable enough.

They walked quickly and quietly through the tunnels as Blinky tried to contain his despair.

After centuries, everything was suddenly happening all at once, and so quickly.

“Did you see Bular?” Alexandra shook her head.

“No, and I almost wish I had. At least then we’d know where…he was. Um.”

She slowed to a stop and looked back to where they came. Now that they were no longer running, Blinky realized that he did not recognize the tunnel.

“Speaking of which, where are we?” A shiver of fear ran down Blinky’s spine as looked around. He’d led them the wrong way.

“A little faster, Blinky, we’ve got a goblin horde wanting to eat us.”

“If you will let me concentrate!”

“Ya fucked up, didn’t you.” “One wrong turn, and I could remember if you would – “

A high-pitched, distant shriek cut him off. He and Alexandra both backed away from the sound.

“I don’t care where we end up as long as it’s away from here,” the Trollhunter whispered furiously. “When darkness falls we can get up to the surface. For now let’s just get the hell moving.”

Blinky’s legs ached as they began to run through the tunnels again, taking turns at random to try and get away from wherever the goblins were coming from. They moved from the wider sewers to smaller passages, ducking under a mess of pipework to continue.

“You can use your amulet, Master Alexandra,” Blinky said. “The Leoht stone. We cannot outrun them when we have no idea where we are.” “I’m not leaving you down here by yourself,” Alexandra muttered, idly brushing away a droplet of filthy water. “With any luck, you’d walk right into the den of goblins.” “I thought I was to be the ‘cannon fodder’,” he replied. Alexandra ignored him and held out a hand, cocking her head as if listening for something. And then Blinky heard it.

There was a rustling, like some creature trying to scrape through the tunnels. Alexandra froze in the spot and Blinky walked into her outstretched hands, so tense it was as if she had been felled.

The scraping came again. The tunnels distorted sound in an eerie fashion, but even so Blinky could tell that whoever was underground with them was immense.

Alexandra very slowly turned to him. Her eyes glowed very, very slightly in the darkness, and he barely made out what she silently mouthed.

Bular.

He nodded, and they turned around, creeping as quietly in the opposite direction as they could. Picking a fight with the son of Gunmar in a cramped tunnel was not the best course of action in this case, not in the least because Blinky was almost certain that he would be killed. Once they got into a larger tunnel, it might be a different story, but for now, retreat was necessary.

Alexandra almost ran into a pipe, and Blinky had to grab her to keep her helmet from clanging against the dripping metal. The resulting clamor of armor shocked both of them, and the rustling sharply increased.

“Run.”

Blinky didn’t need to be told twice; he took point and booked it as fast as his shortened legs could carry him. Alexandra, taller, broader, and clanking like an armory in an earthquake, fell behind him, and he only hoped that she didn’t brain herself on a loose piece of pipe or masonry.

There was a frenzied disturbance in the tunnels, drawing closer, but in the concrete labyrinth it was difficult to tell exactly where it was coming from. Blinky and Alexandra turned a corner at random, just as Blinky realized that the sound was coming from that tunnel…

…and there was Draal, surrounded and being climbed on by almost twenty stray cats.

  A/N: OKAY, SO. SEASON TWO. WAS WICKED AND IT FUCKED UP A LOT OF MY STUFF but I’m going to have so much fun with what it did.

So the Pale Lady was in charge of creating Changelings, but I don’t think that the trolls know that, given Blinky’s explanation for their origins. Also, Dictatious Maximus. You can bet that I’m bringing that shit-eating motherfucker into here and shit will go down. Now how I’m going to get him out of the Darklands I have no idea. I might just have to make it a one-shot chapter, but he and Alex are going to be fun.

I’m totally going to do a drabble chapter of Alexandra with that stone that creates multiple Trollhunters. Trollmarket will not survive with flirty/violent/mischevious Alexandras rolling all around the place. But I’m glad that I’m able to get her to show a little more of her actual personality now. She’s relaxing a bit.

This will not be a Blinky/OC ship. Alex is flirty by nature and she’s loosening up a little now – and the fact that she’s rather attractive in troll form is something that she is not above using to her every advantage, including during battle.

I spent an hour looking up fucking magic boxes and protective charms and magical gateways and shit before coming up with absolutely nothing that I wanted to use.

Polite reminder that troll eyes do sometimes glow, as we’ve seen Blinky’s do in the first few episodes, as well as Bular and Gunmar. Even AAARRRGGHH, when he’s powered up. So troll eyes glowing ain’t that big a deal – but I don’t think they can really do it on purpose, it just happens when it’s really dark out.

I’d wondered why nobody used the amulet to teleport, since it can clearly do so. When Jim was rejecting it and hiding it all over the house, it would teleport right back to him. Either it can only do short-ish distances or it has a sense for dramatic flair (which it does), because in ‘Claire and Present Danger’ it flies out of the museum to reunite with Jimbo.

Kanijgar certainly would have benefited from the daylight-immunity stone

I had to include Whatever Troll, because he’s one of my favorite background characters.

Also can be found on fanfiction and AO3

[westworld-daily]

‘Westworld’ Star Thandie Newton on Embodying the ‘Daring and Vicious’ Maeve

As we enter Emmy season — nomination voting runs June 12 to June 26 — Yahoo TV will be spotlighting performances and other contributions that we feel deserve recognition.

Against a frontier backdrop crowded with the likes of Anthony Hopkins, Evan Rachel Wood, and James Marsden, one woman stood tall on the plains of Westworld: Maeve Millay, the brothel madam who repeatedly proved herself more cunning and courageous than any cowboy. Played with steely resolve by Thandie Newton, Maeve emerged early on in Westworld‘s first season as one of the HBO drama’s most fascinating personalities — all the more so because she was constructing her personality as the series went along.

As one of the robotic hosts who populate this futuristic theme park, Maeve’s identity is theoretically pre-determined by other people. But as the season progresses, she seizes control of her own narrative and orchestrates a bold escape plan that few of her fellow hosts would dare to dream of… if they could dream in the first place. “I found that the character went from this really tragic vulnerability to enormous strength and power,” the actress says of Maeve’s emotional arc.

We spoke with Newton about Maeve’s independence, her “strange” alliance with Felix, and her favorite scene from Season 1.

One of the interesting things about Maeve’s journey over the course of the first season is that even though she doesn’t often cross-over into the larger arc involving Delores, Robert Ford, and the Man in Black, she’s on a similar quest toward awakening her identity. She just travels there via a different route. Absolutely. And even though I wasn’t crossing-over with Anthony Hopkins and Evan Rachel Wood, I had incredible supporting actors with the guys who played the lab techs Felix and Sylvester [Leonardo Nam and Ptolemy Slocum, respectively]. So I felt that I had my own drama, and I interacted with those characters in the same way that Evan was interacting with Anthony. They weren’t the protagonists, necessarily, but they were still incredibly important to the show.

One of Maeve’s most memorable moments comes in Episode 2 when she “wakes up” in the Westworld lab and witnesses the way the hosts are treated there. It may be the most haunting sequence in the entire season. That was originally going to be in the pilot, but they decided that it was such a powerful set-piece that they could let it breathe and allow it to really take center stage in the second episode. I was thrilled about that. It was the first time that I was playing the nudity, which is a very powerful and important part of the season, to see these characters stripped naked. Because it was my first time doing that, all that fear and vulnerability I was feeling as Thandie the actress was really feeding beautifully into the fear experienced by the character. I became a lot more comfortable with being naked as the series progressed, but in the pilot it was very challenging.

I imagine that an additional challenge in that moment is trying to portray how Maeve is processing what she’s seeing. She doesn’t have a frame of reference for what’s happening in the lab. What were you thinking, as a performer, while walking through that environment? It’s a nightmare-scape, because nothing makes sense. She’s seeing horrific images of bodies and carcasses of meat just being dumped on the ground. And she’s naked. She’s in a completely opposite scenario to Maeve in the saloon, where she takes command and is very self-assured. Suddenly, she’s inside this nightmare, and it’s the worst thing imaginable, to wake up in this alien world where you’re being treated with appalling depravity. I didn’t have to think about much other than what I was seeing and doing.

Did the producers prepare you for what you would see in advance, or were they interested in capturing natural reactions by having you walk through and see fresh horrors? I’d already seen the horror shop in the special effects laboratories, and I had seen the wounds that were on my stomach, because I’d had a number of fittings. So it demystified a lot of the horror. But I’m an actress, and trying to imagine what a person would feel like seeing it for the first time is my place of business. The production design was wonderful, and it definitely provided everything I needed to react the way that I did.

Did you think of Maeve and the “blank slate” host version of her as being separate people? No, it was always Maeve, whether dialed up or dialed down. She was always the canvas on which everything was playing out. She was never an empty shell like Clementine, when she was de-animated. That’s not something that ever happens to Maeve. She’s like a computer that’s being filled, and gets progressively more so as the story continues, to the point where she’s dialed her intelligence right up. She’s acquired a mass of information, which gives her the ability to literally break out of Westworld — which has never been done before, you would imagine! So I never played her as anything other than the host who was growing all the time.

You mentioned Felix earlier, and his relationship with Maeve is one of the most interesting parts of the show, and for some, controversial. Some fans wondered why Felix would just go along with what Maeve was telling him to do. What’s you reading of that relationship? You know, it’s a strange one, and I’d love to hear what Leonardo thinks about it — why Felix remains loyal to this murderous robot. Maybe there’s something in his life that prompts him to ally himself with the oppressed. During shooting, I remember talking about how extraordinary these robots are. They’re incredibly expensive and highly complex devices, which Felix is completely in awe of. He’s in awe of the technology, and in a way, he just wants to see where the technology will go. It’s a kind of perverse desire, but he’s kind of grooving on the machinery. So I think that’s the main reason why he supports what she’s doing. He’s also a nice guy. He’s a tender, sensitive person, especially when set against Sylvester, who is such a dick. [Laughs]

The scenes between Maeve, Felix, and Sylvester often have a nice touch of comedy to them, which is something you don’t often get in the rest of the show. Yeah, to go from that scene in Episode 2 where she’s waking up in this horrific world to the levity of meeting Sylvester and Felix and taking control of that situation is such a relief. It lends itself to laughing at how horrible Sylvester is, and how clever Maeve is. That’s really appealing.

Jumping ahead to the finale, Maeve makes the decision to head back into the park, rather than get on the last train out of Westworld, driven by a fragmented memory of her daughter. What’s the significance of that choice to you, and how does it point to what lies ahead for her in Season 2? It showed me that this character is even more powerful and extraordinary than we thought. Escape was the sole thing on her mind, and she puts that into reverse to go back into a nightmarish world that she wanted to leave more than anything. She finds the strength in herself to adjust that perspective and go back in. It seems like a sacrifice, her denying herself that desire to escape. And for what reason? That’s the cliffhanger: I don’t know the reason, you don’t know the reason. We are going to discover why, and that’s obviously going to be part of the narrative for Season 2. I just know that whatever her future is, it’s going to be really, really daring and vicious.

While she does make some alliances during the first season — with Felix and Sylvester, as well as Hector — she’s largely an independent agent in her own survival. Could she ever work with someone else on a long-term basis? I feel like she’s always going to be on her own. Or, if she does ally herself with someone, it’s always for her own motives. She doesn’t sacrifice her desire in order to satisfy someone else’s desire. Hers comes first, and if it happens to chime with another character, then she’ll go along with them. But I feel like Maeve is in it for herself. She has a relationship with Clementine, and you see loyalty there, but she doesn’t sacrifice herself in order to try and save Clementine. What she does is take the anger and the upset of what happens to Clementine and uses it to power herself forward. She’s definitely got the selfish gene.

Playing those scenes with Angela Sarafyan as Clementine, did you want to provide a sense that Maeve has a maternal relationship with her? I felt that there was a maternal element to Maeve’s relationship with Clementine, definitely. You needed to have that trust and love in order to make Clementine’s demise as tragic as it was. But their relationship and their closeness isn’t just to give Maeve maternal leanings, it’s also to satisfy a twist that comes later with Clementine’s death.

One of the themes that runs throughout Maeve’s storyline, and Westworld in general, is the way that physical and emotional trauma affects individuals, even robots whose memories can be manipulated. You’ve been open in the past about describing abuses you’ve experienced. Was there something cathartic about playing this character? Oh, god, yeah. It was amazing. It was like a phoenix rising from the flames. It was so satisfying being able to single-handedly turn against oppression and fight it and win. My story arc is sensational — talk about a Western, you know? Maeve’s journey is irrepressible, and the love I’ve had back from audiences, the excitement and the fact that people identify with her, men particularly. I’m always surprised by how touched they are by Maeve’s journey, and how supportive they are of me as an actress having played the role. I love that it crosses gender lines. Men don’t feel ostracized from Maeve. They identify with her.

Is there a message you hope audiences take away from the series? It leaves a person questioning the value of human life. Are we just pieces of meat? Are we just pieces on a chessboard? How much are we valued? How much do we value ourselves? How much do we value others? Really, it’s a real call to arms in terms of human rights activism. The oppressed are rebelling in the show. It’s a revolution, and I think that people identify with that. It’s very reassuring to watch a show that’s dealing with that because, obviously, it’s in a context of entertainment, and you can switch it on or you can switch it off. It’s contained in this TV show, neatly tied up and looking beautiful. But the realities are there.

The Old West was a very racist environment, but within Westworld, the violence and abuse is rarely racially motivated. Does that reflect the attitudes of the larger world outside the park, or is it more an example of how the park’s operators have chosen to run the place? It’s funny, I was thinking this morning about some of the people in the show whom we don’t follow in terms of the storyline — the Native American population of the park. When I first read the pilot, I remember really being put off by the word “savages” to describe the Native Americans. Maeve is actually attacked by one such character [in the flashback to her life before the saloon], but that scene isn’t picked up on in the show. I do think there’s a future there, because Lisa and Jonah don’t place anything there thoughtlessly. So I think that something’s going to happen there, and that there’s a larger world within Westworld, which is inhabited by both characters we know and that we may not have met yet. We could spend hours and hours trying to list the different ways, the myriad of ways that Westworld storylines can go.

Is there a specific scene or moment that you’re proudest of from the first season? One clip that gets shown a lot is where Clementine has just been deactivated, and Maeve is reflecting on how she thought that the humans were gods at first, and she’s come to realize that they’re just men. That speech is absolutely iconic. And I say that not just because I had an extraordinary time playing that scene and saying those words. Even if I hadn’t been involved in the project and was seeing it as an audience member, I would think that scene and those words are everything, as a woman, I’ve ever wanted to say. So if there’s a moment that I would want to crown, it’s that piece of dialogue. I am eternally grateful for that opportunity; I looked forward to it as soon as I read it. So yeah, I can’t wait to play her again. It’s coming up soon!

[spectrumscribe]

hiyah spectrum!! i was wondering if you had any headcanons for leo, maybe some ideas about stuff after the s2 finale? feel free to ignore but i absolutely adore your character analyzes and how you study their personalities!!

Ah yes, my troubled blue son. Tsk tsk, Leo has like 3million unresolved issues and is dealing with them terribly in canon. I’m glad you came to consult me on my manner ofheadcanons and personal analysis for his character; I have a fair amount opinions aboutboth those things. And by a fair amount I mean a stupid amount.

You specified Season 2’s final, and lemme tell you, I havethought deeply on that, and pretty much every other part of Leo’s characterevolution/devolution. Straight from the beginning to the current, I’ve lookedover Leo’s whole journey and this is the result:

For starters, while it seems like probably 99% of the time Iloathe Leo, I really don’t. At one point I might’ve, but for the most partthese days I kind of just… pity the kid. Being a leader is no easy job, letalone one that has to send his kid brothers into literal war over and over. Thefirst set of writers for this show did some work with that part of hischaracter, an older brother terrified of failing his siblings and father andlosing them all because of it, but not nearly enough in my opinion. There was areal opportunity to go better into depth of how hard it is to be a leader,beyond just giving reasonable arguments when he tries to corral his team/siblings.I’m an eldest sibling myself; I know how hard it can be to be a leader/the loneresponsible individual in the room; and I’m just an ordinary person, I can’timagine even once sending my sibs up against people who wanted to kill them,let alone night after night.

Following up that bit about leadership: I feel Leo reallyslipped as the seasons went on, and stopped being a leader, and becamesomething alike to a dictator instead. If it weren’t shit writing in actuality,I’d say the blame of this lies with his very understated PTSD, post his Shredder wounds/three month coma. Like,he was maybe sixteen when thathappened. He faced down someone not even his father could defeat, all on hisown, and was nearly killed for it. That alone would’ve fucked him up, but itgets better. When he wakes up, he’s essentially an invalid because of hisbroken leg, and he probably didn’t even recognize his own voice. Leo had a massive amount of damage done to him,enough that his body had to shut down for three months to recover, and his dadafterwards says “it’s all just in your head.”

Like

What the actual fuck.

Leo couldn’t walk more than two feet without crutches, hadhis voice/throat damaged irreparably, was very likely suffering through a slowbreak down because he lost his dad, his city, and any sense of normalcy he hadin, all in a single fucking day, and then slept for three fucking months right after that,leaving his team/family on their own with no leadership or guidance and thushaving failed them in that sense, and was having god only knows how many nightmaresabout the whole experience-

And Splinter tells him to mystical ninja it all better.

Honestly, a big part of Leo’s current characterizationprobably stems from that. The fact that he had none of the support adult war veterans get for much lessthan what he went through, let alone as a sixteenyear old boy who literally almostdied at the hands of his worst nightmare, and the most he gets from his dadis the advice to just get over it. That’s the start of a really fucking bad coping mechanism for Leo, which is essentially“if I don’t think/mention it ever again, it didn’t happen” and a shit ton ofrepression/careful editing of his emotions/thoughts. From there, in my opinion,his coping mechanisms spread to the rest of his life, and inevitably, hisleadership. Leo lost total control of his life in a single day, and then had toactively fight his body and mind for months afterwards to get it back; solutionto not wanting to experience that loss of control again is to control everythinghe possibly can. Including his family.

I love Leo, but he has done a lot of shitty things since hewoke up from that coma. Particularly to Donnie, who has been the one bearingthe brunt of the family’s steady decline in functionality. Repeatedly, Leo hasguilt Donnie into following what Leo wantshim to do, whether it’s by proxying their father’s teachings or by holdingDonnie emotionally hostage. The scene that best displays this is when Donnieadmits that he’s unsure if it’s actually possible to cure Karai’s mutation, andLeo reacts by saying “You know how muchthis means to master Splinter” in a very obvious move of emotionalblackmail. Donnie gets a moment ofscreen time to snap back that yeah, he does know, and he’s been working his assoff for months because of that, and what has Leo been doing during all that?-but that moment is disregarded completely afterwards, and the buddingconfrontation between them is sidelined once again.

This sort of interaction is largely with Donnie, but Leo usessimilar tactics on the rest of his siblings. And while I really wish hewouldn’t, since Donnie is already under enormous pressure to keep theirhome appliances/weapons stock/vehicles/everyone’s general health in perfect working order, andMikey’s got his own set of issues stemming from how he’s treated by literally everybody,and Raph really doesn’t need extrafuel to his unhealthy coping mechanisms- I do see that it’s a product of Leostruggling and struggling badly, andnot receiving the support he needs. I’ll repeat again: sixteen year old boy, nearly died, told to just get over a major injuryand his PTSD.

And, to top this all off, very recently and right before hekicked the metaphorical bucket, Splinter removed the basis of Leo’s whole self.Leo wasn’t ever chosen to be a leader because he would be good at it, or hadpotential for it, or even just because he’s the eldest brother-

No, it’s because he was destinedfor it, and there was nothing Leo could have done that would have changedthat fact. In his father’s eyes, at least.

Like, his dad is about to die for the third time- which is a whole other thing of emotional fuckage forhis kids as a whole- and he leaves one last shitty piece of knowledge tofurther fuck Leo up. It’s not like the years and years of training Leo did wasactually worth anything, it’s not like his hours of agonizing over battletactics and moral choices were actually meaningful, it’s not like he didn’t puthis heart, mind, and soul into being the best possible leader he could be. No,he was destined to be a leader, andnone of that effort meant anything in the long run. (And this unspokenly excuses every shitty choice Leo has ever made when he was struggling as a leader, because if he was destined to be the perfect leader, how could any of his choices be the wrong one?)

And then to even furtherscrew with his heavily traumatized son, Splinter tells Leo he’s the Sensei now. He gives Leo, who is already abusing hisauthority in an attempt to hold himself and his life together, total andcomplete rule of his siblings and their clan. And then he dies, leaving a maybe eighteen year old in charge of hisentire family, who are all dealing with their own traumas and issues just asmuch as Leo is.

Forgive me for repeating myself, but what the actual fuck.

For one thing, eighteen year old’s are typically hardpressed to take care of themselves,let alone their younger siblings. Leo isn’t even a good leader anymore, howdoes Splinter expect him to manage being a masteron top of all that? (And that’s not even getting into the yucky feeling powerhierarchy that installs into an already lopsided relationship he’s got with hisbrothers.) (Or how literally none of the boys are anywhere near the level of a master ninja and Splinter is a bold faced liarfor saying they are.)

Ratdad kind of really fucked up with that one. Kind ofreally fucked up with a lot of things, regarding his kids. (And I have my ownsection of headcanons for as to why Splinter devolved into such a shittyfather, but that’s for another post.) And all those fuckups have created a veryunstable teenager who’s barely kept himself standing through tragedy aftertragedy by using coping mechanisms that’re just fucking him up worse. (And godonly knows how the Golden Child complex Leo’s gotten from his years of specialtreatment is holding up under all this. I’ve seen it happen in real life;telling a kid they’re super special and inherently better than others fucks them up as theyget older. Splinter might not have actually ever called Leo those things, butLeo was very obviously given more attention and care than his brothers; he isthe favorite son, and everyone knows it. Even Leo. Especially Leo.)

(I have another big section of personal opinions regardingLeo and canon, about the Golden Child complex and similar issues, having to dowith the super shitty and really very abusive relationships he’s grown to have withthe b-team, and to an extent, Raph. Raph is included in that section, as wellas master Splinter, as abusers/neglecters, but I’ll save that, again, foranother post.)

To round it all up, my general headcanons and analysis forLeo right now are quite dark and pitiable. Underneath all that though, I know he’s still a good kid. He’s just areally fucked up kid who never got to sit down and talk about the shit he wentthrough, and is probably holding himself together by the skin of his teeth atthis point. (His dad, dead three times over; his entire family, ostracized pariahsof society and totally dependent on his leadership; hisemotional/mental/physical wellbeing, fucked to hell and back; my feelings aboutthis, please save this kid from himself.)

Leo’s not a bad kid, in truth. He’s just one that had ashitty dad and an even shittier hand in life. He only ever wanted to be thehero, to do good by his role as an eldest brother and leader, and he wentthrough hell because of that, and his father’s inability to just step up andfinish what he started. The true fault of Leo’s struggle to be a good leaderand brother lies with his father, and it’s the biggest reason of my pity forhim. Bad kids aren’t ever born as that; it’s a learned behavior from theirmentors. (Ratdad and Captain Ryan were reallybad role models; Leo you should’ve gotten better ones than them.)

To be frank: Leo is a highly traumatized and fucked upteenager with no support whatsoever, and I’m sad to have seen Season 1 Leosuffer through being Season 2 Leo, and to have steadily become Season 5 Leo. Someone getthis kid some therapy and better role models, and a restraining order from hisbrothers until he sorts his shit out.

Also: Thank you anon for asking me this. This was a good rant to get out.

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews… Flaked (S02E01) Day 1 Airdate: June 2, 2017 @flakedmusic Ratings: @netflix original Score: 8.75/10

**********SPOILERS BELOW**********

A day in the life of Chip… Well, post Chip, anyway. This isn’t the Chip that was the 5-Star recovering addict socialite of Venice Beach. This is the liar, sell-out Chip that tried to make things right but fucked everything up even more because his motives were purely selfish, Chip. This is the Chip who is exposed, naked, vulnerable… He no longer gets warm welcomes, waves from all, and free coffee. There’s one thing Chip didn’t lie about… And that is that Chip is an addict, or at least extremely self-destructive… I believe his feelings for everyone were real too, but Chip can’t help but to sabotage everything good in his life, you see, because that’s what addicts do. It’s an ugly fucking road. As someone who’s been through the ongoing, never-fn’-ending struggle of addiction (both as a viewer and willing and extremely active participant), I can wholeheartedly tell you that the disease manifests in many different forms… And that there is no right or one way to treat addiction. You just figure shit out as you go along, and I’ve found that if I focus on all my missteps or even worse, completely deny what’s happening in front of my face, treat things like they aren’t really happening, things just fall to shit even faster.

It was obvious from the first few episodes of S1 that ‘Flaked’ wasn’t some glossy black comedy that Will Arnett was going to charm himself through. Essentially this scared a lot of viewers off, and even though I too was apprehensive of the show’s direction at first, I eventually found myself enthralled. Now only do I know Chip, I know many Chips, some playing extremely prominent roles in my life. 'Flaked’ doesn’t exist for the viewer to love or root for a protagonist or boo an antagonist. 'Flaked’ merely exists as almost a memoir or a dirty little love letter that Will Arnett has written to his demons. This is a character piece and that’s exactly why I now look forward to the show. I’m bummed that 8 episodes in S1 turned to 6 episodes in S2, but that’s always fitting tho, isn’t it? Of course that’s what would happen, because by all means 'Flaked’ is a string of disappointments that ends up making a fascinating character piece if, you’ll have it.

I noticed that each episode is labeled 'Day 1’ and so on until 'Day 6’… Obviously, this is our week with Chip… And I’m both ironically excited and horrifyingly sad that the week long journey will unfold starting……. NOW. Now, meaning a few months after the end of S1. Chip and London (Ruth Kearney) are living in Wren’s (Bella Popa) spare room. Nobody wants them there, especially when it comes to Chip. As a matter of fact, Chip is kicked out and forced to scour a community who literally hates him for someone who will take him in. The disdain is real. He begs Topher’s gopher for money in recognizance for Chip literally betraying his entire community just to help Topher convince them that developing a large upscale hotel would be good for them. Topher is dodging him and taking advantage of the fact that they had nothing in writing. I want to call Topher an asshole, mainly because he is, but essentially he’s a good business man… Cunning, sly, and manipulative. This whole ordeal has left a lot of people feeling the effects of gentrification, maybe not as extreme as others we’ve written about, but it’s the same outcome and one that we are fighting here in my small slice of asshole heaven in Miami Beach.

The new hotel has raised rent and forced people out of their homes and businesses. Stefan (Travis Mills) is now selling his coffee outside like a lemonade stand because he can’t afford the rent… You know what that means, no free coffee. Chip will have to work on Stefan later, he has bigger fish to fry. He heads over to see Cooler (George Basil, who since S1 of 'Flaked’ has made quite the name for himself on a personal favorite TBS Networks’ 'Wrecked’, NBC’s 'The Good Place’, FX’s 'You’re The Worst’, The CW’s 'No Tomorrow’ and another personal fave HBO’s 'Crashing’). I’m loving George Basil in everything he’s doing, but his unconventional, scatterbrained, zany energy stands out in a holistically prominent way in here in this Netflix Original. Basil seems to be just running with the character, and he’s simply fun to watch. Cooler just goes with the flow and even forgets why people are upset with Chip in the first place. Chip mentions that he feels ostracized in a town where he was once revered, 'because they are holding him to something that he did’. Cooler being Cooler, chalks it up to 'people being people… “Like, they do that.” Suddenly it dawns on him exactly why Chip was being held responsible for his actions. After Cooler kicks him out, Chip only has one place left to go.

Enter Dennis (David Sullivan), Chip’s ex-bestie… But once a besties always a bestie (and if reconciliation doesn’t peak it’s friendly head around the corner today, there’s always tomorrow). You can’t escape the ones you love the most. It’s true that they will probably hurt you in a much larger degree than someone you care much less about, but that’s because we love them and we layer them in expectations… It’s another one of those 'people being people’ situations Cooler had mentioned before. Chip merely doesn’t run into Dennis. Co-Creators Will Arnett & Mark Chappell begin to set up a whole S2 arc for Dennis to work through. Clearly he won’t be playing second fiddle character-wise. Director Michael Patrick Jann does a great job of weaving Arnett’s writing and pushing the narrative forward at the right times and that right spots. Dennis is opening up a wine shop, not exactly a great idea for a recovering addict, and is developing a weird pseudo-relationship with his upstairs business neighbor and dance instructor, Rosa (Lenora Crichlow). By the time Chip gets to Dennis, the show has already set Dennis up as more than just a supporting character. Not that he wasn’t a prominent figure in S1, but he instantly feels more important to the story now. This isn’t just about Chip and a dark secret anymore.

Chip let’s it all out, tells Dennis everything that happened around the car crash. Chip took the fall to protect someone he loved deeply, to protect her career. Dennis won’t let him off the hook, he says that 'you didn’t just tell that lie once, you told it over and over’, to him, to everybody. Sure, Chip eventually got perks for this awful secret, this terrible accident he took credit for… Ironically… But Dennis is wrong on this one, he has to be. Chip may have lied and benefited from its ugliness in some way, but he was still Chip. He still gave Venice a part of himself, and I seriously don’t think that Dennis is some sort of saint in a position to judge someone so harshly. Sometimes life is just as much about moving on as it is letting go. Let go of this one, Dennis. Chip fucked up… But does anyone really deserve to be tossed to the curb like this? I’ve ran similar circumstances with people I know in my head over and over, and while Dennis has a right to be angry… I think he only gets that right for so long… As a friend, a person who was hurt, he’s entitled to some emotions. But as shitty and ego-centric as Chip can be, underneath all of that, there is a good man who just doesn’t know how to win.

Notable Music: Grandaddy - That’s What You Get for Gettin Outta Bed Tom Caulfield - The Blanket of Ideology Bill Moss - Sock It to 'Em Soul Brother S. Carey - Brassy Sun Ruby The Rabbitfoot - Do Me Right

[ghozt1ng-blog]

Mysteries of the Q Files

Chapter 9: On The Case!

It was the strangest text party Trick had ever been a part of. He texted Rachel with select information, asked more about the suspects he had in mind as his mother texted questions to a cop in the nurse’s office, she then read out the names of students and teachers while another officer texted back to Agent Brown extra information and body language. Trick’s mom wanted each person observed from multiple angles, convinced that if the students thought there was only one or two interrogations going on, they would never notice the most important one: Susan Brown’s.

“This boy honestly knows nothing, no matter how much he vomits out,” she tisked.

“That’s because you are not questioning the people you need to,” Trick reminded her.

He was aggravated with her. They could have nicely wrapped up this whole interrogation had they gone straight for the people he knew they needed to. Susan had gone for Ashley and Alex first. Trick gave them his most apologetic look possible. During the interviews the girls had gave Susan the same reports they had given the police. They did not divulge any new information, and she knew they were holding back. Only grudgingly did she then listen to her son and ask about Carly and her rivalry with Samantha. They confirmed what they had told Trick earlier, that they were both going for Billy.

Billy was the next person to be interrogated. He was a terrible subject under the light. He could not keep his stories straight about what he and Samantha had talked about. Then he said that there wasn’t anything said between them. At one point he even denied being at the party, before reverting back to saying that he had been there all night. The only thing that saved him from the cuffs and a cell was the number of witnesses who could place him at the party when Samantha was kidnapped and when Carly was taken. Susan had been annoyed to learn that her son had the correct name of the girl who had been taken. She almost lunged at Billy through the glass to strangle him.

Her annoyance led her to stop listening to her son, who protested that Rachel had it on good authority that Billy was more closely involved with Samantha than he was letting on. It didn’t make any sense to him why Billy would deny it. He even denied any connection with Carly. Trick also wanted to slug the smug, but sweating jock. He also wore a letterman jacket, the very notion of the clothing drove Trick further up the wall.

Are people here even real!? Who actually looks and acts this way!?

Trick had lapsed into texting and it wasn’t long before he got all the information he could ever hope for from Rachel. The important things to know were these: The party that Samantha had been taken from was one of the few pre-Halloween parties leading up to the grand finale of parties. Hosting the actual Halloween party for the school was one of the biggest honors of the year and signalled a student’s standing in popularity. Larissa Manchester had risen through the ranks of popularity, and seemingly had a great night by all accounts. But there was another pre-Halloween party coming and, despite the two horrible kidnappings, everyone was still planning on going. But Trick knew that that did not mean everyone. The more popular the host, the more selective the crowd. This meant that there would be other parties and get-togethers with the less socially inclined, who Trick desperately needed to meet with. They could potentially supply him with extra clues and pieces of the puzzle he needed to figure this mystery out. He already got the party times, places, and most importantly, names from Rachel, and now all he had to do was meet with them. Once Trick interviewed Shannon Ramirez and Lotty Lampoon, the case would start becoming a little more clear.

Their current victim however, was one Jed Ward, a towering willow tree of a kid who looked doomed to remain forever youthful and unproductive. He knew a lot about the social makeup of the school, and he had even been invited to the parties, but his studious ways prevented from attending and made him inept to survive long in a room with cops. He was a sweaty, contradictory mess.

“Arg! These kids! I don’t understand why they think all of this dating, popularity mumbo-jumbo has any relevance to this case,” Trick’s mom finally spat.

She was sending a text message to the cops that the latest interview was over when Trick retorted, “Actually, it’s very important mother, and I don’t see what you hoped to have gained from him anyway.”

“He was close to the bathroom incident and the principal said he was a model and reliable student,” his mother answered, trying very hard to patient with her son.

“And that is why he is a terrible candidate for this interrogation,” Trick waved his hand. “Look, I can help you out here, Naomi just texted me that they have been making some good leads where they’re at.”

“Of course they are! They’re looking at physical evidence. But people, oh Patrick, people and especially teenagers are tricky. They never line up with what you expect. You have to watch each person individually and take stock. You have to get inside them and break them down.”

“I understand all of that mom. And yes, it might be difficult for some, but I have done it so often by now, that is a simple matter.”

Susan Brown threw up her hands and said, “Fine, Patrick! Fine! Obviously it isn’t enough that I haven’t sent you straight home, let alone do so in one piece, but I have allowed you to stay here and watch these interviews. I’ve even let you stay on your phone and text your silly new friends. But oh no! That’s not enough is it? You want to tell me how to do my job, too? There is something actually terrifying and maybe even supernatural going on here, and you just sit there all smug as though you know all the answers! So, tell me then, Trick, what am I supposed to do differently to find the truth and find this kidnapper?”

Trick smiled when his mother used his nickname. She was clearly in a very dangerous mood, but if she was truly beyond reach she would have used his full name. It let him know that he had an opening. That was all he ever needed with anyone. Usually, even when she was angry, she was careful to never let him have an inch. She had slipped, and now he could dig himself finally out of the hole he had fallen into ever since Carly was abducted.

“Mom, you are right about how people act, and teenagers are especially difficult. But everything is a game to them, even if they don’t realize they are playing it. Kind of like Game of Thrones in way. That youthful child in there was blabbing about the social structure of this school because that is what matters to everyone! Samantha was at the party because she wanted to get closer to Billy Holmes. Now this party wasn’t just any normal party. This was a pre-Halloween party that reminded everyone of who is on top in the school’s hierarchy. This already throws us into Samantha’s world, which can give us clues as to her kidnapper.”

“First of all, Billy Holmes is a very, very popular guy here. Dating him puts you up at the top. It gives that lucky girl a chance at basically anything, besides having a sexy hunk for your bed and everything else.” His mother flushed slightly at that comment, her brows drawing together as she pursed her lips. “Now this means that she will have contenders and enemies. There will be girls that want what Billy brings to the table. There will be girls and guys who don’t want just any girl to have Billy. So Samantha would have social enemies from the upper strata of the social ladder. Carly as well, because she was also after Billy.”

“But the upper crusts of popularity are not the only ones who would have it out for Samantha and Carly. There are your normal rank and file students. They have their own ways of getting back at people they don’t like, such as voting against them at prom, homecoming, and so on. Also, spreading rumors or fights in the hallway. But they won’t go for anything too big, because their position is precarious but comfortable; don’t rock the boat and just enjoy life. The popular kids don’t have that luxury and will resort to any means if they have to keep their status. But now enter in the unpopular kids.”

“These unpopular kids are looked down on and excluded, which in a small town is worse than exile. Exile means escape. But here they are ostracized and made to be alone in the crowd. Any chance to rise or to lash out at the kids above them they will gladly take, if they know they can get away with it. Many opportunities present themselves every day, but they don’t take them, because failure means a sudden surge of unwanted attention. From my research through the local gossip, I’ve noticed that the unpopular kids are never mentioned. Usually, there’s at least a slip of someone’s name, or a funny anecdote. But here there is nothing. That means that someone was just put into their place recently, and it was bad. If Billy, or these girls were connected to that, it would make them the primary targets of retaliation.”

Trick’s mother held up a hand, her expression laxed into something not too far from exhasperation, “Patrick, that might be insightful and maybe one day you could put your energies to better use and write this down for other students, but this seriously doesn’t help this case at all! What about the possible monster? How does this narrow the list of suspects? If anything, it makes the list almost unmanageable.”

“At first glance it does,” Trick agreed. “But it gives us a very important trail of breadcrumbs. And after Carly’s attack, I have another important piece of the puzzle, which helps narrow the list. The person who did these attacks knows the social dealings of this school. They most likely know them as intimately as the students, because they are a student! They knew Samantha would be at the party, which is not even the most important party yet in the lineup of Halloween parties, but they knew Billy was going to be there. It made her easy prey. Then there is Carly. She went to the one bathroom with the best wifi connection, even though it was further away than the practical one. The kidnapping also happened when she was alone, which come to think of it, don’t girls normally travel in packs to the bathroom? In any case that might mean something later…”

“Anyway, only someone who goes to this school and knows Carly could determine that she would be there. It only makes sense!”

“Or it could all be random,” his mother fired back.

Trick shook his head. “Highly unlikely. Not when you see that Billy connects both of the girls, and especially when they were both interested in him. No, it makes sense! Now then, this means that it is highly likely that one of the two remaining girls who are after him is your assailant. But then there are also the outcasts to consider. For that, I’ll need to talk to them.”

“So you actually figure yourself a detective,” Trick’s mother sighed.

“Yes,” Trick answered simply.

Trick spoke with finality, and for the first time in a long time he felt he could breathe easily, he was determined now. The admission felt good! Whatever guilt he might have felt about skipping town and his dad to come here were finally swept away.

“The students for the most part have been sent home early today. Agents Conturbatio and Miles are still busy with Naomi and the crime scenes. If you really want… If you really want, you can tell me if any of the other kids on my list are any good to interview. And if they aren’t… Well, I can take you to find and talk to one student. And then we’ll see about where you stand on this case.”

Trick smiles broadly. It had worked! He glanced at the list and dismissed them all immediately. His next step was to text Rachel. He needed to know about some of the outcasts and where he could find Shannon. Soon, they were underway to find a kid named Eustace.

No wonder he’s unpopular. That is a terrible name! Who honestly names their kid that?

Once they got to Eustace’s house, Trick begged for his mother to stay behind.

“But I want to see your fine interrogating skills in action,” she said in a slightly mocking tone.

“Then you can listen in on my phone,” Trick promised. “But this has to be just me and him, got it?”

“Fine,” she sighed.

The phone on and well hidden, Trick approached the door. The unfortunately named boy was the one to answer the door. Trick gave one his signature winning grins.

“Hello there, my name is Trick, are you by chance Eustace?”

“Is this a trick? Some kind of joke?” Eustace looked nervously around the corners.

“I wish it were pal, but it’s not. You know about the kidnappings that have been going on right?” Eustace paled, but nodded his head. “Here’s the deal. I’m trying to solve this case, but I need some help. Now don’t worry, I won’t get you involved; I just need answers to three questions, and then I will answer any one question you want to ask me. Is that cool?”

“Y-Yes,” Eustace stammered.

“Great! Then let’s get to it! First of all, was there some kind of prank against the lesser popular kids here?”

Eustace went even paler. “Are you not from around here?”

“It’s not time to ask your question yet. Please answer mine,” trick said firmly.

“Yes, there was a big one… It was pretty bad,” Eustace looked miserable, but Trick could tell that he was not the target whatever it had been. There was something like thankfulness in his forlorn eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Trick said genuinely. “Second question now, where can I meet with the people not going to the party this weekend?”

“What? Oh, a group of them are meeting at Camille’s Cafe and Diner. Best place to hang out and get away from those other guys. It’s right next to Gamer’s Corner, too.” Eustace really brightened up at the thought suddenly. Trick had the impression he would see him there shortly.

“Final question: do you think Samantha got what she deserved, getting kidnapped?”

Eustace paled again. This kid must have the thinnest blood ever, or something like that!

“No. No, she didn’t. I don’t think I believe the wild stories Ashley and Alex told. But I know she was taken and very few people deserve that,” he finally answered. “Even the girl today.”

“Carly,” Trick prompted.

“Yeah, even her,” Eustace nodded.

“Okay. You have been a great help,” Trick assured him. “Now for your question.”

“Are you not from around here?”

“Nope. Not at all! Just here to solve the case! Good day Eustace!”

With that Trick left the kid looking completely confused and walked back to the car. His mother gave him an odd look.

“Was that really it?”

“Yup. I doubted he was the one who did anything. Especially at the end.”

“He did pause,” Susan Brown reminded him.

“Sure. But body language. He was a wreck of nerves and kept going pale. Nah, it wasn’t him. Now I know where Naomi and I need to go for our next interviews. We’ll have the truth for you soon.” Trick gave his mom a wide smile and she rolled her eyes.

“Keep dreaming kido,” she said. “There’s no way we are keeping you on the case.”