#oh apparently they’ve lost my doctor cool <3

[cosmicclownboy]

hi- why don't you like Maria?

Oh lord.

Where do I even begin with Maria.

Season 1

Makes a joke about Alex's secret relationship being with Wyatt and finding it funny- (Wyatt who is an abusive racist dude who commits hate crimes and bear in mind she knows Alex was abused for being gay) IT'S GROSS.

Speaks about Alex's secret relationship guy being his home to Alex and literally feels his hopefulness because it is part of her alien ability and continues to pursue Michael in s2.

Maria (straight) outs Michael to Liz. That's not okay on any level.

When Liz tells Maria to speak to Alex before doing anything she ignores the advice and does what she wants.

She's really smug about Michael picking/pursuing her like she won.

Season 2

Pursues Michael at a funeral in front of Alex without talking to him.

Makes Michael's loved ones husband funeral about a relationship status

Slut shames a random woman who makes out with Michael when they were never exclusive

Enters a relationship with Michael where he has to be exclusive but she doesn't because she doesn't believe he could be faithful. That's reeks of harmful biphobia stereotypes.

Ignores Alex the whole time UNTIL she needs something.

When she appears at Alex's door she says they are even. AKA comparing Alex not telling her a secret that wasn't his to share to her pursuing the love of his life in front of him without any empathy and ignoring the whole time.

Bitches to Alex about Liz and wanting fuck all to do with her. Alex has to remind her Liz has a dead boyfriend and is struggling cause Maria only has Maria vision and lacks empathy for her 'best friends'.

Uses her mom's laptop to get the scope on Alex/Michael's relationship which reads 100% manipulative. She even says Michael is pushing you away and then proceeds to encourage the narrative where Michael pushes Alex away because she suddenly wants Michael. And of course Alex is supportive she recognises he lacks self worth and rolls over him.

Beginning of 2x06 she tries to set up Forlex to get Alex away from Michael. Once again manipulative.

Tries to make Alex feel guilty for being gay in 206 because when she was a kid she idealised being with him and had to come up with a whole new plan. He grew up in an abusive household you know that....It's not okay to say that. You know how much internalised homophobia he has.

When saying he's had good relationships provides only examples of relationships with women......................HE IS GAY.

Asks him if he would change being gay.......jfc.

Alex tearfully saying he dissociates with women because he clearly forced himself to out of internalised phobia, Maria takes it to mean she has a chance. She thinks she's the exception since a touch starved abuse victim liked to be touched by her in high school. That doesn't = consent.

When Alex, a whole ass Airforce Captain tells her it's unsafe to stay at the creepo's place she acts all I am feminist about it and this results in Alex being stabbed and Michael getting whacked on the head.

Earlier in the episode she whinges to Alex about Michael kissing another woman in front of her and how cruel it was and then proceeds to kiss Michael in front of Alex KNOWING how he feels for Michael.

In THAT scene it's clear she notices Michael's emotions towards Alex and is insecure about it. She uses Malex's feelings for each other to her advantage. She's chasing the fantasy of getting with Alex. These are two highly traumatised queer men who struggle to say no because they spent their lives in abusive environments.

Neither Michael or Alex were in a position to consent to sex that night Michael is concussed from a whack on the head . Alex has lost a lot of blood and is completely out of it. And neither would ever initiate that situation. Not to mention the assumption Michael would be down because he's bi is so harmful as a stereotype.

"I think she’s cool with her decision. She wanted some answers, so subconsciously there was an emotional comfort she needed. But she also had a little bit of an agenda. She needed some decisions made about the status of their relationships, so she thought, “Let’s throw everything against the wall and see where it lands.” I think she was just wondering if they made any progress on that front. She said it was OK for their feelings to be out in the open, but let’s just voice them for what they are. As we saw, Michael stepped up and was like, “No, I still love you and I’m with you.” Secretly, that’s what Maria was hoping for. By suggesting a threesome, she’s was basically telling Michael, “Make your choice… and I hope it’s me.” this is what Heather said about the scene. So not only was it coercive and such but she used her best friend like that with no care or empathy whatsoever. It's disgraceful.

The next day both Michael and Alex are confused by what the fuck happened. Alex due to his C-PTSD completely dissociates from the situation and Michael attempts to laugh it off despite him being hella confused. The only person who isn't confused is Maria who is listening to them from inside.

When Michael comes in she turns on the tears just in case he does want Alex afterwards. Bear in mind she is a psychic who can feel everything and she assumed Michael was going to go after Alex. Doesn't that say it all. SHE KNOWS MICHAEL IS IN LOVE WITH ALEX AND VICE VERSA. She does not care, because at the end of the day this is what she wants. She wants to win. She wants to treat Michael like this trophy that she can show off to people I got the great Michael Guerin not a relationship guy to date me.

When Michael wants to have emotional conversations she shuts it down for sex. The entirety of the relationship it has to be her way or the high way. She also recognises fairly on his abandonment issues and plays upon it, reads manipulative.

When Michael who has lost his mom and brother in the span of a few months asks Maria to be more careful about her abilities she doesn't listen. And ultimately breaks up with Michael when she can't get what she wants from him which is a yes man who will do what she says and isn't the idealised Michael she wants.

Season 3

Shits on Michael any chance she gets. She's so mean to him and he goes out of his way to look out for her.

Is dismissive of her own health despite the fact that everybody goes out of their way to help her. Liz is in California working on a way to help her. Kyle is risking his job.etc

Is fine with Liz, her best friend losing the love of her life to get a vision to prevent a murder. A vision she's only invested in because apparently in it she blames herself.

Is fine with Max or Kyle dealing with the guilt of her death had Michael not saved her.

Shoves Michael and belittles him because he's stronger then her. Infers he just sits on his ass and does nothing therefore does not care about anything....rude. There's also a weird superiority complex that her power is more important then Michaels or any of pod squad for that matter.

Creates a situation that is so bad that Kyle risks his doctors licence to give her adrenaline. Just take an ice bath or something there are a 1000 ways to give yourself adrenaline without risking your life and risking others.

Doesn't thank or acknowledge what Liz is doing for her honey has spent a FULL YEAR of her life trying to help and your just like yeah I'll let her soulmate die for my visions.

Emotionally guilts Isobel for not hanging out with her despite the fact she's hated her for two seasons and now has just randomly decided she wants to know......okay

This idea that Maria is suddenly lonely when she's the second of the main cast (first being Kyle) to have scenes with all the mains by Monday. Literally everyone is there at her beck and call but Maria is lonely??? IT DOESN'T ADD UP. Everyone's up her arse 9/10 how is she lonely everyone expresses concern and care for her ALL THE DAMN TIME. She's also narratively never had scenes that give the connotation that she is lonely. Michael has scenes that connotate he is lonely. Max and Alex do too. Maria has yet to have scenes that give the connotation of feeling lonely or depressed.

Maria comparing the alien siblings to her and feeling left out when she acts superior to them and they are literally siblings. Literally every character is somewhat left out with Pod Squad they've lived their lives assuming it's just them three against the world it's not a personal attack.

Maria is 1/8 alien at best so diluted genetically it doesn't show up and somehow she believes she has the capability of the aliens who are 100%. Say you have French DNA you don't expect to speak French suddenly.

This whole Maria never does wrong narrative and it's empowering that she's doing all of this just feels like a crock of shit tbh.

She reads like a 2000's movie mean girl.

All of my bullet points are why I don't like h Maria and it's not biased because I'm a so and so fan. Narratively she just wins up doing shitty things to Michael and Alex the most.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 40

Read on AO3. Part 39 here. Part 41 here.

Summary: Out of curiosity, is it possible to have a party in Gilead that doesn't end in disaster?

Words: 5600

Warnings: emotions

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hello! Welcome back, again, to my weekly updates. Haha. I think the last few chapters may go a couple weeks in between updates, if only because I want to get them exactly right--just as a heads up.

I am hoping this chapter seemed correct in its pacing and length--these are two things I am trying to get a better feel for as I write, hence the extended length of the chapters, but I'm wondering if it feels too draggy?

Anyway, I love y'all very very much, and I love your thoughts and kindness and generosity. I am truly so lucky. <3

The Night Buzzard was hardly the most comfortable sleep you’d had, but it had easily been the deepest in weeks. Between the exhaustion of being fucked within an inch of your existence and the knowledge that a veritable army was only feet away from you, you felt invulnerable enough to slip into what apparently was complete unconsciousness for six hours. Nothing--not the rumbling of the terrain, not the voices of the Knights, nor the wailing of the engine--had roused you. Only a firm pressure on your shoulder was enough to finally drag you from your blissful semi-coma.

Your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with a film of sleep, coming to focus on the morning-kissed face of Kylo Ren.

Light filtered through the black-tint windows, splitting him in shadow, his expression soft and stern. His hair was filthy with sweat, clumped in frizzy locks over his forehead and ears, his chin and upper lip peppered with a hint of stubble. As you met his gaze, you could see nothing but tired, guttered rage in his pupils, an umbra under his eyes. His attention flickered over you, examining you, a warm, gloveless hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over the still-tender skin. You winced, and his head tilted, his hand skating down your arm, sparking affection in your chest. Affection you did not want. Frowning, you shrugged him off. 

His lid twitched, his jaw tensed. He glanced to the side. “We’ve arrived home.” Toward the front of the Buzzard, the Knights were shuffling, the door whining as it opened. “Once you shower and dress, we’ll be departing again.”

You blinked, tugging the robe to your chin and propping yourself up on an elbow. “Again?” you asked. “Why?”

“City hall,” he replied. “Tying loose ends.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, rolling over, looking at the wall. “You enjoy that. I won’t be going.”

Pressure on your shoulder again, turning you toward him, and you shook him away. “You’re coming.”

“If you’re concerned about my safety, leave a Knight or two outside.” A tiny smirk on your lips. “They’ve become pretty familiar with me by now, anyway.”

Kylo grumbled, gripping your arm. “You don’t have a choice.”

Spinning on him, you seared him in his spot. “What else is new?” you spat. “Go ahead, then. Make me.” You grit your teeth. “I’d really like to see you try.”

He stared at you, studying your face, lips pinching together. The last Knight stepped off the Buzzard, and the door closed, drenching you both in silence. You held him in your gaze, unyielding, breath stalled in your lungs. Kylo swallowed, and then averted his eyes, his conviction melting in the ferocity of your fury. The hold on your arm loosened--you grabbed two of his fingers, plucked them free, and tossed his hand to the side.

“Right,” you said. “That’s what I thought.”

Huffing, you clambered out of the bunk from the end of the mattress, pulling your robe--his robe, technically--over your body and cinching it tight. You felt Kylo’s gaze linger while you gathered your shoes and underwear into your arms, flouncing barefoot down the steps and into the front yard of his home. The sun was peeking into the sky, spilling newborn light through dawn clouds, the air still woven with the wool of summer heat. Sighing, you paced to the front door, arms folded with your belongings, trained on the floor as you escaped to your room.

When you shut the door to your tiny cell, you burst, hurling your clothes into the air with a howl, throwing yourself on your bed. It didn’t matter if you wanted to cry--you would continue to refuse, content to bask in rage instead, to let yourself simmer in it. You would tolerate no more kindness from Kylo Ren, no more exceptions in his design, no more delicate baths or malted whisky eyes or hope-hollow words. If he was to never let you go, you would never let him hold you again.

It was about a half-hour before the Buzzard peeled from the driveway, and the Audi with it. You allowed yourself a moment of respite in his absence--now was your chance to bathe and catalogue the thoughts flipping through your mind. Another long, soft sigh escaped your lungs, and you rolled out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes and new uniform before heading to your door, only to be met with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. You swallowed, paused, heart flipping. It could only be a Knight--you just hadn’t expected to be met in your room. When the boots stopped outside of the threshold, but went no further, you shook off your nerves and opened it.

One of the Knights--helmeted, as usual, God only knew what they looked like--stood in front of you, silent, as if it was totally normal for him to be waiting outside of your door like a sentry. Warmth rushed your face in memory of the previous night, acknowledging that he’d not only seen you naked, he’d stroked his cock to the sight of you being fucked, and he’d shot hot jets of cum somewhere onto your body. You supposed it’d be awkward to ask which load had been his.

“Um.” You cleared your throat. If only there was a way for you to glimpse his mind, to know what he was recalling--or imagining--in this moment. “Excuse me.”

“Apologies,” he sputtered. The voice was familiar--Ushar, you guessed. “Wasn’t expecting you to be leaving.”

“Oh.” Perhaps getting his semen blown onto your face afforded you the privilege of a conversation. Or he was concerned you’d be afraid, and then mention it to your Commander. “Don’t worry about it.”

You stepped toward him, and he pivoted, back to the wall, allowing you a wide berth as you passed. Fear seemed more likely. 

It wasn’t until you’d made it approximately twenty feet down the hall that he moved to follow, trailing behind while you snuck down the steps and to your bathroom in the annex. You opened the door and slipped inside, tossing your uniform to the side and running your bath. Seconds later, Ushar arrived at the door in silence. 

As alone as you could get inside Kylo Ren’s home, you shrugged off your robe, and scanned your body, seeking evidence of your evening. There was no mirror in your bathroom, just as there was not one in your bedroom--so you improvised, pressing your palms to your cheeks, mapping the topography of your skull with your fingers. Pain tingled at your touch, the lumps and bumps that had burgeoned overnight still thumping and soft, the bruises on your face stinging with latent life. 

They were all trophies, to you, little souvenirs from your holiday at his hands--and you hoped by the time you’d lost them, the feelings packaged with them would be lost, too.

When the bath was halfway full, you sank into the water, shuddering as tension and ache was vacuumed from your limbs. You gazed at your stomach beyond the surface, imagining it as an island in the bath--your skin stretched tight, belly button protruding like a tiny hill--and coasted your hands over it, as if this would manifest your illusion. When it finally did become reality, there was no telling where you’d be, what you’d be bathing in, or who you would have come to trust. But you knew that wherever you landed, it would be by the strength of your own wings, in a nest that, no matter how humble, was crafted by only your design.

After you were clean and the water had cooled, you hoisted yourself from the bath, arms and legs heavy from relief in buoyancy. You stumbled onto the tile and steadied yourself with the sink, taking a few breaths. Balanced, you dressed into your uniform and tucked your hair away before tossing your leftover items into the hamper and exiting the bathroom. 

Ushar was still stationed outside--your cheeks burned again when you walked past him, returning to your room. You’d had plenty of encounters with men--your red dress was proof of that--but in the past three years, the only person whose release you’d handled had been your Commander’s. The sudden fact that seven men had anointed you with cum within the past 24 hours sharpened the post-engagement awkwardness to a knife. Not that you regretted it. 

You shut your door behind you and flopped onto your mattress face-first. The sky was bright, but it was still early. There was nothing else for you to do but continue to sleep.

The sun had passed mid-point when a squealing cheer from somewhere in the home startled you awake, eyes opening into a blank wall. A little hint of dread poked your brain as you recalled what Johana had mentioned the day before. A party to celebrate. You grunted, wanting to bury yourself in your pillow--but cramped, stomach seizing in hunger, informing you that you hadn’t actually eaten in over 24 hours. Between the doctor, the Buzzard trip, and getting your brains fucked out and then jizzed on, your appetite had been whittled to nil. Unfortunately, you were still human.

Sighing for the five-hundredth time that day, you trudged out of bed, adjusting your bonnet before you opened the door to Ushar, steadfast as ever. He sidled against the wall again, and you once more plodded through the hall, down the steps, with him in slow pursuit. 

Another peal of laughter ricocheted off the walls, and your neck prickled. They were in the parlour room, whoever they all were, and it was required you pass the parlour room to reach the kitchen. Turning to Ushar, you cocked your head in a silent plea, to have even a sliver of a chance to be invisible. Perhaps, again, out of fear, he nodded, backing into the hall--and you willed yourself to be a scarlet spectre, unseeable unless you wished to be seen, in the hopes you could escape their eyes.

As you crept to the archway, one of the women clapped her hands.

“Oh, Johana!” she said. “I had one of those too! Perfect for the baby room.”

“Do you think so?” That was Johana, sounding concerned. “No choking hazards?”

“No way!” said another woman. “You just hang it up above the crib and they fall right asleep!”

“Yes, it doesn’t go in the crib!”

Johana laughed. “Oh, give me a break, I’m a new mom.”

The group erupted in giggles again. Your stomach churned--but not from hunger. As their chatter escalated, you stepped forward, visible through the threshold, and every word on their lips died. 

In the center of the room was Johana, perched on the edge of the leather Chesterfield with a mobile in her lap, buried in a mountain of handmade baby clothes, toys, and room decor, a bevy of neatly wrapped boxes still unopened. Surrounding her were at least a dozen Wives, none of whom you recognized apart from Dolpheld Mitaka’s--you supposed the others had become Widows. They scrutinized you in confused disgust for a long, quiet moment.

It was almost shocking, how quickly they’d pulled this amount of material together, but you also knew most Wives stockpiled baby things in anticipation for their day. Perhaps the only truly surprising fact was their willingness to share.

“Ofkylo.” Johana’s cheeks glowed, but you couldn’t tell if it was from joy or embarrassment. “Good afternoon.”

“Um.” You folded your arms over your chest, like you could hide the knowledge that you were pregnant from everyone in the room. “Hello.”

She placed the mobile to the side. “I trust you had an uneventful evening.” There was no edge of malice in her tone--your pregnancy appeared to have at least one tangible benefit.

Pinching your lips between your teeth, you ignored the swarm of blood to your face. “Yeah,” you said, and then corrected, “yes. I, um. I did.”

One of the Wives, plump with dark hair, snorted, rolling her eyes. “You let your Handmaid out during the day?” she asked. “I can’t stand to see them crawling around like that.”

“Oh, I know!” replied a blonde-haired woman. “They’re like rats. Conniving, selfish things.”

“The one I had would always be making eyes at my husband, I swear.”

“Wasn’t she blind in one eye?”

“Well, yes, but she was still looking at him with her good eye--”

The back of your neck bloomed with sweat, your fingers burrowing into your arms. Venom gathered on the tip of your tongue, the most foolish part of you wanting to test out just how absolute your Commander’s protection was. 

“--and all I knew was, she better have been sleeping with that one eye open, or I was going to--”

The dark-haired Wife shushed the rest, leering at you as she spoke. “Be careful what you say,” she said, “you know Jo’s husband has a soft spot for Handmaids.”

The others nodded in agreement, supplying Johana with looks that ranged from pity to complete contempt. 

“That’s right!” This woman, a red-head closest to Johana, patted her knee. “Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if I were you. I don’t think I’d ever put up with everything you do.”

“It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” said another. “Benefits for Handmaids? Who cares? They’re literally whores!”

A gaggle of them laughed, and you licked your lips, teeth crushing your tongue into submission. Johana met your eyes, glimpsed your whitening knuckles, and her jaw stiffened.

The red-head patted her knee again, like this was comforting instead of patronizing. “You’re being quiet!” she said. “You don’t share your husband’s… preoccupation with Handmaids, do you?”

Johana blanched, scowling. “What? No.”

“That’s good.” She sighed. “Because I was just thinking the other day, you know, this never would’ve happened if Moden were alive.” A spoiled-fruit sweetness tinged her tone. “Don’t you think?”

For a sharp, clear second, Johana froze, and the last restraint on your mouth snapped.

“I think that’s pretty inappropriate,” you said. “Ms. Johana has no say in what her husband does.”

Silence swallowed the room, every muscle motionless. A low murmur of disbelief vibrated through the Wives as they glanced at each other, and then at Johana. She was looking at you like she’d looked at you at the dinner party--only this time, bathed in familiar light.

“Actually.” Back straight, she cleared her throat. “Ofkylo, why don’t you. Come... sit with us.”

The Wives flipped on her like a dozen switches, their brows drawn back or raised, before gazing at you, waiting for you to make your choice. There was some delight you’d take in staying, in deliberately making them uncomfortable, just as Johana wanted--but God, you were hungry. You shook your head, put up your palms in deference.

“Oh, no,” you said. “That’s, um, that’s fine, Ms. Johana, but I was just going to get something--”

“Nonsense.” She scooted over, patted the seat next to her on the couch. “Sit.”

You rolled your tongue over your teeth, ready to turn and leave, but something in her expression was tight, needled with pain. As if she was pleading. A current of pity rippled through your mind--in this room, surrounded by gifts, supposed friends, and social and legal superiority, she was still left depending on you. With a shrug of agreement, you waded through the crowd until you reached her, sinking onto the sofa, squeezing between her and the building hill of presents.

None of the Wives spoke. Johana clapped her hands on her thighs. “So!” she said. “Next gift?”

They surveyed each other for a moment, and a small hand crept into the air.

“Um.” It was Mitaka’s Wife, her mousey face peeking through the crowd. “You can open my gift next, Johana.” She offered a floppy paper package, eased it toward the couch. “I, um, I made it awhile ago for… someone else. It’s not much.”

Johana took it into her lap with a small grin. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just lovely.” 

You watched, like you were beyond a screen as she opened a gift meant for your child as if it was hers. She looked out at the other women, peeling the wrapping back, exposing a small, knit sweater. The room gasped, shrieking in restrained glee when she held it up, flipping it in display. 

“Adorable!” said the blonde-haired Wife, clapping her hands. “That’s perfect.”

Johana released a nervous chuckle. “But it’s so small.”

“No way!” said another woman. “That baby’s taking after you. He’s going to be tiny!”

“Yes! Precious little man!”

“Oh,” Johana said with a laugh, “we’ve decided it’s a boy, now?”

Another jubilant interruption, the lot of them breaking into smiles while your muscles locked, your focus drifting to your stomach. You hadn’t really considered its gender, or its appearance, or its actuality at all. Something twisted through your heart--a swell of repulsive affection--as you imagined it in your arms, every feature blurred, save for one clear detail: a feathery mop of thick, dark hair. 

“What are you going to name him?” 

The baby in your arms disintegrated, and you snapped to the parlour room. 

“He won’t be a Junior, will he?”

The first thought through your head--Kylo would never want a Junior--before you realized that Kylo would never meet his child, and the question hadn’t been directed toward you at all.  

Johana shrugged, her shoulder brushing yours. “You know, I’ve thought about names, but I can’t decide. My husband doesn’t really have a preference.” 

“He’ll be just as handsome as your husband, I’m sure,” said the dark-haired woman. “But let’s hope he gets your manners.”

“What do you mean?” asked the blonde Wife. “Her husband is polite! He’s so quiet.”

The room dimmed with stifled muttering as the women who had spent more than five seconds around Kylo Ren exchanged sardonic smiles. Johana tensed at your side.

The blonde woman blinked. “What?” she said. “What is it?”

“Polite isn’t the word I’d use,” said the dark-haired woman. 

“I’d use the word ass--”

“Shh! Don’t say that, Jo’s right here.”

“Well, she’s the one enabling all of his--”

“It’s fine!” Johana’s face was pale, fists bunching in her dress. “I--I mean, he’s rough around the edges,” she said. “But I’m sure he’s… I’m sure he’s going to be a great father.” She pursed her lips, looking at you, that same plea in her eyes. “Right?”

Your stomach roared in protest--the thought of remaining in a room, listening to Wives discuss your child and its father’s involvement as if you were exempt from the equation had bubbled nausea to your tongue. Clearing your throat, you stood, dusting off your skirt. Johana grabbed your wrist.

“Hold on. Where are you going?” 

Grimacing, you wagged free of her grip. “I, um, really have to eat.” Your face was on fire. “Excuse me.”

Focus fixed to the floor, you scrambled from the group of Wives, whisking through the hall, wiping your palms on your sides. A great father. Even if you thought that was true--which, given everything you’d come to know about him, you now admitted you’d be delusional to think--Kylo Ren was never going to know if his child was even born. 

When you arrived in the kitchen, you met with Emma and Rose, preparing some sort of hors d'oeuvres. You wondered how many of these they did, given all of the parties Johana seemed hell-bent on forcing on this home. At the sound of your boot on the tile, they spun from the counters, and you offered a small grin, easing past the threshold.

“Hi.” You looked around the kitchen. “I was just. Um. Coming to get something to eat.”

Rose sighed. “Can you come back later? We’re a little busy.”

“Oh.” An angry growl somewhere in your abdomen. “I mean, I was just going to maybe have a sandwich?”

“Just let us finish this up,” Emma said, “then you can make yourself whatever you want.”

On the counter were dozens of cucumber slices, handfuls of cherry tomatoes, and a tub of shiny cream cheese. It couldn’t have been that much more work to do. And you didn’t want to be rude. You chewed your lip, folded your hands behind your back.

“Would you like help?”

They paused, glanced at each other, then back at you. Rose stepped to the side, providing you space in the counter, and you joined them, looking over the spread. 

“Here.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a knife, and placed it in front of you. “Finish up the cucumbers.”

There were only a few more to cut. You nodded, scanned the counter for a cutting board. “Oh, um. Do you have a spare…”

“There should be one in the bottom of the pantry.”

You nodded and crossed to the other side of the kitchen, opening the bottom drawers and searching through them, pushing aside the aluminum sheet pans and sets of kitchen utensils. No cutting board.

“I can’t find it?”

Emma sighed. “It should be under the muffin tins.”

“Oh.” You pried up the set of muffin tins, revealing a small wooden slab. “Got it. Thank you.”

Bending down, you wedged it from underneath the plethora of unused accessories, wiggling it from the drawer. As you pulled it free, the cresting rumble of the Audi’s engine coasted into the driveway. Your grip wavered, and it crashed to the floor. 

“Shit!” you hissed. Emma and Rose looked at you, brows pinched in concern, and you swallowed, heat building in your cheeks. “Um. I mean. Sorry.”

When you picked it up, the door to the Audi closed, followed by the scrape of boots through the front path, and you paused, your grasp on the board so tight you were surprised the wood hadn’t splintered. With you in the corner of the kitchen, your Commander wouldn’t see you as he passed through the hall--but it wasn’t seeing you that had your heart in your throat. It was the impending discovery of the party around the corner, full of women--and his Wife--whom you feared were guaranteeing their casualties under his design.

The front door opened, and you heard Kylo march through, shutting it behind him and striding into the hall. Chest tight, you returned to the counter, cutting board in hand, and placed it down before drawing in a slow breath. You plucked a smaller cucumber and laid it on the slab. His footsteps stopped.

“What is this?” 

Hands quaking, you lifted the knife, the handle heavy in your palm as you recalled how to wield one. 

“Oh! Commander,” Johana said. “It’s a party! For us!”

You lined up the blade with the tip, lips pulled in between your teeth. Sliced.

“Us.”

Fresh cucumber wet your nose. Beside you, Emma and Rose were chopping away, as if they didn’t sense the impending mushroom cloud just meters beyond the walls. 

“Yes. For our baby!” A ripple of laughter through the group. Then silence smothered the air.

Slice.

“I mean, look at everything everyone’s brought for us.” 

Kylo Ren said nothing. The sound of your rocking blade was thunder in your ears as it hit the board.

Slice.

“We’ve, uh, actually been joking that it’s a boy. That he’s going to have my manners.” 

Only a few women forced a laugh.

“But don’t worry!” Rustling of something, like paper. “We said he’ll have your looks.”

Still not a word. This time, not a single mouth managed a noise.

Slice.

“Well?” Johana breathed a mock-sigh. “It’s our baby! Aren’t you excited, Sir?”

No response. 

“Commander?” 

Slice. Slice.

“Sir--”

“This is over.”

Your breath stalled and the knife slipped--you hissed, dropped it in pain. A sliver of blood leaked from your thumb.

“What?” A tentative snort of disbelief. “What’s over?”

“You. Me. All of this.” 

A choked laugh--none of the other Wives made a sound. “Ky--Commander. What?”

Rose and Emma paused, too, staring at you. Face tingling with flames, you were unwilling to meet their eyes--you glanced around the kitchen, seeking out a towel. Red drops speckled the cutting board. 

“I want everyone out of this house. I want you gone by the weekend.”

Your hands trembled, littering the counter with blood. Breath failed to find your lungs. 

“Gone? You can’t… you can’t be seri--”

“Out. Now.”

The Marthas muttered something to you, their voices muffled by the hammering of your heart. Part of you was stuttering in disbelief that your Commander was actually doing this. The other part was busy filing its nails, having predicted this the second the doctor slapped your thigh with the news. Behind you, you heard the Wives filing out, whispering to themselves as they fled through the door. Meanwhile, you flitted around the kitchen, thumb curled into your fist in an attempt to staunch the flow, still unable to find a single goddamn piece of cloth.

“Hey.” Rose grabbed your shoulder, shoved a dish towel into your chest. “I was trying to give you this.” 

Your lids widened, and you nodded in thanks, thumb throbbing as you fumbled to swathe it closed. The last Wife shut the door behind her, your breath shallowed. The parlour room was quiet. A frustrated, feminine sigh.

“I mean. What do you expect me to say? Are you serious?”

A dark crimson daub blossomed through the cloth. You needed to get a fucking bandage. Those were all the way in the washroom. Past the parlour room.

“Yes.”

Johana huffed. “And where exactly do you expect me to go?”

“I don’t care.” 

Another pause. You and the Marthas had ceased moving, ceased talking--only in awe of the crumbling foundation of your home. 

“How do you--”

“You have until the end of the weekend to collect your belongings.”

“Kylo, that’s only four--you asshole, where are you going--”

His steps disappeared into the home, turning the corner toward the staircase. You stood there, for a moment, squeezing your thumb in its makeshift tourniquet, each of you looking to the others.

Emma bared her teeth in a strained grimace. “Is he really kicking out his--”

A piercing screech ripped through the air, followed by a tearing of paper, the toppling noise of boxes, hollow wood, piles of clothes hitting the floor. Second later, a feral growl clawed out of Johana’s chest, her little feet shaking the ground as she stomped through the halls. You looked between the Marthas and your thumb.

“I’m going to, um, take this chance and grab a bandage.”

They said nothing, urging you on, and you tip-toed through the halls, wary of crossing either your Commander or his Wife, neither of whom you wanted to see or speak to in this particular moment, each for their own reasons. You passed the parlour room--Johana’s gifts were terrorized, spewed across the room in busted heaps. The little sweater was entombed by a set of boxes, the mobile fractured on the floor. 

It made sense, of course, that this would be his response--Johana’s presence threatened your own. As long as she laid claim to your child, your life was irrelevant. And while you didn’t feel bad for her shattered delusion, you knew that her only liferaft in Gilead’s storm had now been engulfed and drowned by the tidal wave of Kylo Ren. Barring her life, there was nothing more for her to lose. 

Head spinning, you continued to the washroom, ready to turn the corner, only to be paralyzed by the sound of Johana’s voice, serrated like a predator wail, shredded as you had never, ever heard it before. 

“We’re not finished yet, Kylo!”

You heard him stop, and you whirled around, pressing your back to the wall, holding your breath. She’d caught him at the bottom of the staircase.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Johana.”

“No! What the actual hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?”

“I might ask the same of you.”

“Oh, can it, smart ass. You think you can kick me out and still expect me to treat you like my husband?” A disgusted laugh. “You’re more delusional than I took you for.”

“Delusional.”

Johana deepened her voice in mockery. “Delusional--yes, delusional. This is Gilead, Kylo. The nation you helped found? There are laws. You can’t dispose of your Wife for your--God, I don’t know--little pet!”

“Careful.”

“Or what?” she asked. “What, you’ll, you’ll--humiliate me again? Order me in the middle of a party to leave the only home I’ve known for three years in front of my friends?” She laughed again. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Move--”

“Don’t! Touch me!” she screeched. “How do you see this working out? Huh? Do you see yourself telling the Council your plans to divorce your Wife, something Gilead doesn’t even allow? Do you see them letting you play house with your Handmaid?” 

“Don’t assume my plans.”

“Please! It’s so obvious how obsessed with her you are. You don’t even need eyes to see it.” She grunted. “Don’t touch me.”

“Then move.”

“Moden still has friends in the Council,” she said. “When they hear about what you’re doing, it’ll be over for you! And you know what that means? It’ll be over for her, too.” The sound of shuffling. Coming toward you. “Get back here--”

Adrenaline erupted, and you darted off, skittering like a squirrel down the hall and dipping into the parlour. Throwing yourself against the entry wall, you sucked in a breath to silence yourself in hopes they would pass the archway and miss you entirely. Your pulse throbbed in your thumb, blood pumping into the towel, soaking to your skin.

Kylo’s tromping feet barreled forward, but you heard Johana on his tail--the sound of a squeal, a grumble, the squeak of a spinning heel. 

“Johana--”

“Do you have any idea how long I defended you? How many excuses I made for you? Do you know I used to fucking feel bad for you? And you’re kicking me out?” That squawking laughter escaped her. “You’re demented!”

“I was generous to give you four days. You tempt me to make it four seconds.”

“Go ahead. You’ll be stuck here with her, and she’ll hate you too, just like I do, just like your parents did, just like everyone in the world fucking hates you!”

Something slammed the wall, and you jumped, clapping your hand over your mouth, towel flopping to the floor. 

“Punch all the holes you want!” she snarled. “You think just because you call yourself Kylo Ren that you’re not the same pathetic asshole that Ben Solo was, you’re wrong--you haven’t changed, and you never fucking will. It’s no wonder they fucking sent you away!”

“Get out.”

“Oh, go ahead and try.”

“Get--”

Johana screamed, and a sharp smack, skin on skin. 

“Serves you right, asshole! Fuck you!” She leapt into your line of sight, snatched the mobile from the floor, unaware you were behind her, and cracked the wooden frame in half, brandishing the broken rod like a sword. “I swear to God, if you try to touch me I’ll--” 

Her eyes caught you in the periphery. You froze. 

Chest cycling with rapid breath, she crystallized, gaze flashing between you and her husband beyond the archway. Tawny locks of hair curled out like smoke from her scalp, face flush with fury, her chin trembling as she drew a long breath into her lungs. For a moment, she held it there, and exhaled, shoulders sagging, fingers loosening, the mangled mobile clattering to the floor. Johana trapped you in her stare, inspecting you inch by inch, until her face fell, eyes flooding with fat, wet tears.

She nodded, focusing past the threshold. “Okay. I’ll leave. But not until the weekend.” Chewing her lip, she glanced at her feet, then back to you. “I give up,” she said softly. “You won.”

You wanted to tell her that the only thing you’d won was a fatherless child. But she tore out of the room, a whirlwind of empty apologies shrinking like shucked leaves on your tongue. 

Shaking, you looked to your thumb, pulsing with pain; creeks of blood stained your sleeve. One footstep, and another, and your Commander crossed into the parlour room, dressed in his boots, black slacks, a matching dress shirt. His hair was washed and wavy, his face free of shadow, a pink mark on his cheek. For all of Johana’s mistakes, you couldn’t justify this particular punishment she’d received--and yet, your heart clenched in his presence. You were afraid you would never stop loving him. 

He examined you, his lid twitched when he spotted your still-weeping wound. Frowning, he stepped toward you. “You’re bleeding.”

Jaw tight, you retreated, glaring at him. “I know.”

“Come.” He reached for you. “You need a bandage.” 

“No, I don’t.” You dodged, snagged the towel from the floor and circled around him, his eyes shimmering with shielded grief, following you until you met the archway. “I’ll let it bleed.”

Kylo Ren said your name--but you had escaped to the hallway with the towel around your thumb, unable to stay, unwilling to hear what came next. Your appetite had disappeared. In the dash to your room, you passed Ushar by the annex staircase, but he did not follow you up the steps. Instead, he remained a statue, stoic as you fled, a red wraith of rage, behind your door.   

[xpialidoxy]

No longer mine (Bruce Banner Imagine)

Bruce walked with Tony side by side. Tony had his check up in the hospital today so Bruce went out with him. Just when they were about to leave the hospital, Tony spotted you.

"Hey Y/N!"

Bruce's looked into the direction where Tony was looking at and there, he saw you.

There it was, that familiar glow of the room when you're in it. Just like before, you were shining.

You seemed a bit surprised to see them but you quickly changed that shocked expression into a happy one. You jogged to them and flashed them a huge smile. "hey!"

"Wow! It's really you! How long has it been??" Tony said, obviously so happy.

"Three years I think?" You offered a hug to Tony and the same with Bruce. "I didn't expect to bump into you two here."

Bruce was taken aback. He was so surprised to see you here. After 3 years, you two have finally crossed paths. You look the same, but no matter how much he looks at your pictures before, they were nothing in compared to seeing you right now.

Bruce watched as your eyes fell on him, making him hold his breath. "Hi Bruce, how are you?"

Tony and Bruce were both surprised to see you acting cool about it. Like nothing has happened.

"Great." Was the only thing that Bruce can say.

Tony decided to save his science bro and decided to take your attention instead. "Why are you in the hospital?"

You shifted your gaze from Bruce to Tony, smiling once again. "I—"

Suddenly, your phone rang and you quickly answered it. "Yes! I'm on my way there." You looked at the two of them with sorry filled eyes. "Sorry but I really need to go."

The science bros nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"I'll drop by the tower one of these days, I have something to tell you guys." You simply said before you went running away.

Bruce was left speechless, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. Tony just watched his friend who missed you so much for those three years.

"You know, it's been 3 years and I still don't get why you broke up with her." When Tony said that, Bruce was reminded of that night.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but I don't love you anymore." He still remembers saying those hurtful things.

That night when he finished everything between the two of you. That night when you cried in front of him, begging him to take back the things he said.

The only night that you weren't shining, and it was all because of him.

"Clearly, you're still in love with her. So why don't you run after her and tell her you were wrong. That she really was the one for you?" And with that, Bruce glared at Tony and started walking away.

*

Bruce was busy tinkering with his new upgrade for the hulk buster a while ago, but now he's just staring into space.

Seeing you at the hospital today made him remember all of his memories of you.

The night when you first danced together in one of Tony's parties. Where you two first kissed.

The night where you two walked in the streets, your fingers locked with his, the moon and stars shined on both you and him.

The mornings where you wake him up by giving him a gentle kiss on his cheeks.

Even remembering your favorite movie made his heart ache.

But these thoughts disappeared when an annoying Tony Stark came rushing into the lab.

"BANNER!" Bruce jumped in surprise and his eyes tinged green. Tony stepped back when he saw this. "Oh no. No! No! Don't hulk out! I have news!"

Bruce tried to calm himself down as he looked at his monitor wherein Tony placed an article about some doctor, an anesthesiologist. But what caught Bruce's attention was your name and your picture standing side by side with the doctor.

World-renowned Anesthesiologist is Getting Married

Bruce took his glasses to read the article.

"That's why we bumped into her in that hospital." Tony commented. "Her..." he contemplated before talking again because he was a bit uncomfortable to say the next words. "Her fiancé works there. It looks like they've been together for two years. They worked together in another hospital.

Two years. She's moved on from me for two years. He couldn't help but think. It's been three years and he's still in love with you.

"What's interesting is that, that anesthesiologist suffers from a rare disease and it's very rare for patients to live for more than 25 years. But look at him! He's even a doctor and a world renowned one at that!" Tony can't stop his rambling.

Bruce scrolled the article as he saw pictures of you and the guy laughing and staring at each other. You looked genuinely happy... and in love.

His heart was beating so fast, he didn't even know why it was beating so fast.

The day went on in the tower, and now, it's finally time to eat dinner. Clint was the last one to join them, he was running when he came in.

"Guys! Have you heard the news?" He said as he hurriedly went to Tony. " Y/N's getting married to a world-renowned anesthesiologist! Their love story is all over the internet!"

"Really?" Tony stood up, not being able to read the whole story yet, he took Clint's phone.

"Yes, apparently, the doctor fell in love with Y/N at first but never tried to make any move. It was Y/N who initiated it and the doctor rejected her twice."

Steve opened his mouth, eyes on Bruce who stopped eating, "uhh... guys... can you not talk abou—"

"TWICE?!" Tony shouted upon reading it. "Because the doctor didn't want her to get hurt if something happens to him." He reads on. Thor stood from his seat and went to the two guys to read the article too.

Bruce gulped and placed his spoon and fork down.

"They look so in love, don't they?" Clint said once more.

"I agree." - Thor

"He stares at her as if—" Clint was about to say once more but Natasha cut him off.

"Clint, it might be better for you to sit and eat."

And with that, Clint lifted his gaze from his phone, Nat jerked her head to Bruce's direction whose eyes were now focused on his plate.

Clint looked to the doctor and immediately realized that Bruce joined them for dinner tonight, which was very rare because he mostly spends his whole night in the lab, his eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

"Uhm." He exhaled. "...right," slowly making his way to his seat.

The whole room went quiet, and Bruce was aware that they were expecting him to say something. He was aware that everyone was looking at him.

Bruce gulped and decided to stand from his chair. "Good for her." He said softly then began to leave the dining room.

Bruce went to his room and let himself fall to his bed. He buried his face in his pillows as he tried to get those thoughts out of his mind, but it wouldn't work. He unconsciously reached for his drawer and took a velvet box out of it. He opened the box and stared at the ring.

A ring that he was supposed to give you before.

**

4 years ago...

He bought the ring yesterday, and now he went to your home to get your father's blessing. He was so excited to marry you.

But, unlike his expectations, your father wasn't very happy about the idea. Instead of giving his blessing, he even pleaded Bruce to let you go.

"I want a normal life for my daughter." He pleaded. "She's suffered enough when she lost her mom, I don't want her to suffer anymore."

**

Bruce closed his eyes and threw the box.

The next day, everyone were silent while having breakfast. Clint still looked sorry after what he did last night, and Tony had this look in his face as if he's contemplating.

He finally gave in and sighed. "Guys... uhh.." his eyes linger on Bruce for a brief second. " Y/N's going to drop by tonight."

Everyone's head shot up and looked at Tony. Nat raised her eyebrows on him.

"She said she has something to give us.. uhm.. I was wondering if we could ask her to have dinner with us? I don't want to send her off just like that, it's been three years since we last met her."

"Tony." Nat warned, knowing how this affects Bruce.

Clint sighed and stared at Bruce. "I agree.. I don't think it's a good idea."

Tony looked at Thor. "but I miss Lady Y/N."

Tony looked to Steve who just stared at Bruce.

"Sure, why not?" The scientist said, faking a smile. A smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Their faces changed. "What?"

"It's been three years. And I do agree that we can't just send her off just like that. She's..." Bruce stopped for a moment. "She's Y/N, not just anyone. She's friends with everyone here."

"Right, I was about to say that." Clint said cheerfully. "I agree," looking so excited, his smile might rip his face.

"Alright! I'll tell her." Tony said and took out his phone, looking happy.

Nat and Captain on the other hand looked at Bruce worriedly, and Thor... Thor just continued on eating, seemingly happy upon hearing what Bruce just said.

So that's how you ended up here, in front of him, inside the tower, flashing everyone with a friendly smile.

Clint hurriedly pulled you for a hug. " Y/N! I missed you!"

You chuckled to your best and hugged him back. "I missed you too, Legolas."

Tony grinned and offered a hug. "and that's why I missed you."

"Missed you guys too."

Finally, your eyes set on Bruce and it was as if he was brought back to three years ago, when you two were still together.

"Hi Bruce," you said, offering a hug. Bruce gulped and hesitantly accepted the hug. Wondering how something that used to be so familiar to him felt so distant.

Tony and Clint stared at each other with wide eyes.

"It's been a while, have you been well?" You asked more, in which Bruce nodded.

You were still shining in his eyes; it seems like you were able to lit up the whole tower. For years, he felt like the tower seemed darker but now that you're here, it's no longer dark.

"Yes," He managed to answer, he brushed his hand to his hair. "I see you've been well too?"

"Thankfully."

Bruce bit his lip and slowly nodded, eyes still examining you. "That's good."

You both stood there, staring at each other but with different expressions on your faces. You look genuinely happy while Bruce looked like longing for you. And everyone except you knew this. How sad Bruce's eyes looked, he looked like he has something more to say than what he said.

They were right, he did have so much more to say. He wanted to ask you how everything ended up like this. But he already knew the answer to that, he knew it was his fault. He was the foolish one. For pushing you away, for hurting you so much that you will never think of coming back again, but still wanting to have you in his arms again.

Clint knew that he needed to get everyone's attention, because you two have been staring at each other for a while now.

"Sooo," he said loudly, getting everyone's attention. "Did you come alone?"

"Oh right," You said. "I told Yohan I'll drop by, he said he'll try to drop by too after he finished work."

Yohan

You said his name sweetly, you even giggled. "I don't think he'll be able to make it though, he has so many things to do."

"That's understandable, he's a world-renowned anesthesiologist." Tony said.

You giggled once again. "Please stop saying that, he hates it."

You imagine Yohan's face whenever you call him that, it makes him uncomfortable and slightly cringe. He would glare at you like a child or playfully attack you to stop you from calling him that.

Your imagination was not a secret to everyone, as they watch how you giggled to yourself, they realized you've been thinking about the doctor.

And Bruce couldn't help but to feel a sting in his heart, watching how you were so happy.

"Oh! Here are your invitations." You opened your bag and took out your wedding invitations and gave it to everyone.

Bruce stared at the card in his hand, staring at your picture and your husband-to-be.

"He's really busy these days so I don't think he'll make it to dinner."

"That's what you're going to tell them?" A voice said, making you all turn around.

There, you saw your fiancé standing with his hands in his pocket.

"Yohan!" He was wearing your favorite black t-shirt of him that makes him look so good. You ran to him and he stared at you with joy in his eyes. "I didn't think you'd make it."

He smiled boyishly and ruffled your hair. "I wouldn't miss a chance to meet your friends. Besides, it's not like you're the only one getting married here." He whispered to you.

You smiled at him, you can't help but feel your heart flutter in his words. He took your hand in his.

"So, are you going to introduce me to them or not?" He added when you just stood there, staring at him.

"Right! Sorry." You remembered, making him chuckled. You pulled him by your hand that was holding his own.

"Guys, this is Yohan, my fiancé. Yohan, they're the avengers."

Yohan extended his hand to everyone. "Nice to meet you."

"Tony Stark." Tony said, shaking Yohan's hand.

"Clint Barton."

"Thor,"

"Steve Rogers,"

"Natasha."

And at last, Yohan's gaze fell to the other doctor.

You bit your lip, being reminded of the times when Yohan would playfully tell you he's jealous with your ex.

"Nice to meet you Dr. Banner." Yohan said with a huge smile in his face.

"Nice to meet you too."

After they shook hands with each other, Yohan returned to your side, hand resting on your back.

"Let's go have some dinner." Tony said.

All throughout the dinner, you two were asked by the group. Laughing and joking with each other, they seem to like your fiancé, and the feelings were mutual.

All throughout the dinner, Bruce watched how Yohan stared at you. He always had a smile on his face whenever he looks at you, and he smiles even bigger when he hears your voice.

When the dinner was over, Tony, Clint and Thor snatched you away from your fiancé while captain and Nat left to meet Fury.

Bruce was left to clean up. "You should probably head upstairs, I bet Tony took her to show off his new suits."

Yohan stood up. "No, I'll help you."

The scientist smiled a little, trying so hard to send him away. "You're our guest, you sho—"

But before he can even finish what he was saying, Yohan already started cleaning the table. "It's okay, really."

Bruce just nodded and whispered. "Okay,"

It was awkward, they both know it. They became busy with what they were doing and there was a long silence between the two of them.

"I understand why you did it." Yohan said, getting Bruce's attention.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Her father talked to me too. He begged me to do the same thing." While saying this, Yohan looked at Bruce, who was shocked with what he heard.

"To tell you the truth, I almost did the same thing. But I talked to her about it," Bruce was now staring at the other doctor, who smiled when he was reminded of that time. "She had the right to know, it was our relationship and I don't get to decide by myself."

He chuckled. "She told me she's willing to fight it with me rather than avoid it. Y/N's so much stronger that what you think, Dr. Banner."

"Just like you, I'm scared of what may happen in the future, I'm scared she'll only get hurt. But... I'm more scared of losing her." Yohan sighed. "So, I decided that as much as I can... I'll make her happy."

Bruce smiled upon hearing that. Realizing how he's so much better than him.

"Hey! Yohan you stop that!" Tony yelled, taking the plates away from Yohan.

"You're our guest." Clint agreed.

The four have returned, ending the conversation between the two doctors.

When you had enough time to check on your friends, you finally decided to leave. Reminding everyone that they should come to your wedding.

Bruce watched as you left hand in hand with Yohan, nearly collapsing to the man while saying how tired you are. Your fiancé just laughed at you and held you close to him.

"You know my loyalty to you, Bruce. I wanted to hate him but I can't. He's too kind and funny and good-looking." Tony said to Bruce.

The day of your wedding came, Bruce hesitated to go. He can't attend it, he can't watch you getting married to someone else... but he ended up doing so. Now, he was at your wedding's reception. A slow song played while he was standing at the center of the room.

Across the room, you watch him. Then, you felt someone holding your hand. "Dance with him." Your fiancé's familiar voice said and you looked behind you, smiling at him.

"What? No." you chuckled. He shook his head and held your hand.

"He's been a big part of your life, Y/N. And I understand that. At least dance with him for the last time?" You stared at him and your heart swelled, you were really lucky to have met him. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him.

"I love you, I really do. So much." You told him.

He rubbed his hand on your back, hugging you tight. "I know you do, and I love you too. I know you still have some things to tell him, so go on."

When you two pulled back from the hug, you slowly approached Bruce. The man whom you used to love so much. You tap his shoulder with your fingers and he turned around, looking so surprised to see you standing in front of him.

You can't help but smile at his reaction.

"May I have this dance?"

"Can I have this dance?" That's what you asked him when you two first danced together.

Bruce felt the same thing he felt that night. The excitement and the happiness.

You watched as he sighed to himself and bit his lip, his eyes turned soft while staring at you, before saying. "Sure."

"Sure." He answered you that night, and the rest was history.

Well tonight, it really is just a history. A history of what you two, buried under memories.

Slowly, you two started to dance to the song. Tony and the others spotted this and watched across the room.

"Congratulations." Bruce said while looking at your eyes. He was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes, he was slowly realizing that this isn't the same as your first dance. For this time, this time might be his last dance with you.

"Thank you. Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it." Bruce nodded at you and you two stared at each other for a long time.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said all of a sudden. "I'm sorry for telling you those hurtful words before. I don't know if it will change anything but I want you to know that I didn't mean any of it."

You nodded at him. "I know." You sighed. "I realized why you did that, apparently, my dad asked Yohan to do the same thing."

"It all went wrong when I did that. I've always regret making that decision."

"You should've talked to me about it, instead of deciding what you think is best for the two of us. You didn't even give me a chance to decide and to fight for our relationship." You finally get if off your chest, that's what you've been wanting to say. "I wished you believed in me, even for just a little. I could've handled it. That's what a relationship is all about."

Bruce suddenly felt his tears threatening to fall, but he didn't want you to see him crying. He didn't want to make you feel bad, especially in this special day. "Can I hug you for the last time?"

You couldn't help but to feel your heart sting when you heard the sadness in his voice. So, you nodded. "Of course."

Right after you said that, he hugged you. Tightly. His tears started falling but he remained calm. You two danced like that.

"You know I loved you right? So much. And I still do." He said, whispering those words with his mouth on your head.

You nodded and hugged him back. "I know. And I loved you. So much. I never thought I'll ever love someone just as much as I loved you."

You rubbed small circles on his back. "But Yohan made me realize that I can. I love him so much Bruce, I don't think I can ever live without him. He believes in me more than I believe in myself."

"I can see that. I know how much he loves you, it's written all over his face." Bruce said making the two of them chuckle. "I'm really happy for you."

"You'll meet someone else who will make you realize that you can love again. Someone who might not be able to take the pain away, but someone who's willing to be in pain with you. Because that's what love is, Bruce. Understanding a person's pain is understanding that person."

"I don't know... I don't think I can love someone as much as I loved you."

Hearing that, you pulled away from the hug to look at him face to face. You held his hand using your left hand, and held his cheek by your right hand. "Trust me, you will."

Bruce nodded at you as he looked behind you, "let's bring you back to your husband." And he smiled. This time, his smile reached his eyes. He took your left hand with him and drag you towards Yohan.

"Thank you for taking care of her. Please be happy for the rest of your lives."

Yohan stared back at Bruce. "We will. Thank you for taking care of her too."

Bruce stared at your hand that he was holding. He breathed in deeply before finally giving your hand to your husband.

He's letting you go. For real.

And when he let go of your hand, he smiled at you and your husband. Before leaving the two of you to share your dance.

Bruce watched as the people cheered when you two danced. You buried your face to your husband's chest and you were crying while holding tightly to him.

At that moment, you two were shining. As if you two were really meant to be together.

Bruce glanced for the last time, before he turned his back and started to leave the room.

For three years he still has this lingering feeling, hoping that maybe he'll meet you again, and maybe you two can start again. For three years he still thinks that you're still his.

But today, today he puts an end on it as he thought.

"You're no longer mine."

Your somebody else's now.

[meibemeibelline]

highlights from that 32k word doc i wrote when i marathoned gazette’s songs (2002-2007)

PART 2 | PART 3

Some quick notes:

This is a combo of thoughts on music, lyrics and sometimes just funny things I found while I was hurriedly typing at 11pm listening to these songs. Not every song will be featured in these, sorry

At times I directly quote translations and when I do I’ll specify who I’m quoting, but just so you know first they are all either Defective Tragedy, Heresiarchy or Trauma Radio

Also, I’m planning on writing some longer essay-type things with these notes so there might be some things I skip over (such as a recurring theme in their songs) bc I want to use them elsewhere

CONTENT WARNING FOR LYRIC DISCUSSIONS: suicide (Ganges ni Akai Bara). i will bold the title so you can skip it if you want. it’s one paragraph long

HHHH this is already 2k words but anyway hope u enjoy my ramblings

 “I’d have to take a break from feminism to appreciate [Akai One Piece]”

“His delivery is still highly emotional and [Okuribi] overall is really emotional. Like the fact you can still hear and FEEL the sheer bittersweet feelings (mostly sadness) of someone you love passing away is like...really telling of 2002 gazette’s potential”

(Doro Darake no Seishun) “Bitch Aoi and Uruha are serving LOOKS like the red tartan blazer with the black shorts???? And Uruha with the red tank top and the pleather skirt with the garters THE OTHER GIRLS WISH THEY WERE HIM”

(Haru ni Chirikeri, Mi wa Kareru de Gozaimasu) “it’s about a flower that’s in love with a one-winged butterfly, and i imagine the point is that even though they sing songs for each other, they’re just so different that they don’t understand each other and they can’t be together. and they’re just...fated to end, and maybe try again next spring. and you can see that in human relationships too.”

“Akuyuukai i think is such a significant turning point musically like i just FELT a significant shift where they were really painting with their music and having it be more closely connected with the lyrics”

“[Linda Candydive Pinky Heaven] is a happy and fun song!! it’s doro darake no seishun’s cuter and cooler older sister. this also gave me a lot of serotonin and i’m glad this is a classic. it’s also this band’s first fan song (or closest to a fan song) and i think it’s quite meaningful because they were picking up as a band and were starting to really connect with people which is always so so great. and i think it’s cool that many songs before this were fun songs to jam out to but linda is specially DEDICATED to that. it’s so carefree and i think like...this is the exact thing many musicians love about performing and what fans love about concerts. it’s the escapism and just the SPACE to be yourself and have fun. it’s so freeing.”

(Black Spangle Gang) “I can’t believe GazettE were doing 2005 Miyavi before Miyavi did 2005 Miyavi”

(The Murder’s TV) “I think it’s cool how playful they make it sound -> like a creepy show that kids might see and the last chorus is pretty good. it’s a bop AND THE BASS AND GUITAR SOLOS SLAP. The lyrics are really interesting too and I LOVE the way Ruki embodies them with his voice”

“BITCHHH MAD MARBLE HELL VISION SLAPS. THIS IS WHAT I CALL NOISE MUSIC!!!!!!!”

“The composition on Kawareta Haru, Kawaneru Haru is actually SO good (and the costumes are fucking ICONIC). And Ruki is STILL getting better at singing. The chorus is melodic and the effects on the guitar just go so well like I think the others (probably since Akuyuukai actually) have been really getting to play with all sorts of effects on their instruments to make this new variety of sounds which is super rad. AOI SOLO SUPERIORITY BTW.”

“Indie gazette really love their key changes in the bittersweet songs in the last choruses.”

“Comparing the lyrics of [Sumire] to many of the last ‘goodbye’ songs, there’s a lot more imagery and scene-painting as opposed to like, just direct thoughts and feelings. And that’s really Ruki developing as a writer, I think, as his lyrics are becoming more subtle and open to different interpretations which is super cool! Like this is really him finding his voice and I know he’s going to be doing more of this over the years.”

“ANATA NO TAME NO KONO INOCHI SLAPS BUT THE LYRICS ARE FUCKED. LIKE, I KNEW THIS FROM THE BEGINNING BUT I REALLY WISH I WAS JARED, 19.”

“I LOVE MISEINEN SO FUCKING MUCHHHHH. I can only begin to imagine just HOW significant this song is for Ruki. This is him acknowledging his weaknesses and his flaws, looking around him and seeing the people he has, he writes about what he’s afraid of, he writes about how he’s going to change and move forward, what is MOST VALUABLE to him. This is A LOT. This is A LOT for anyone. It is a song about GROWTH – how he wants to grow yet is terrified of change, but even so is going to do it with the help of his support system. This is EVERYTHING. It’s raw and brave and so very beautiful. It has Wakaremichi and BEST FRIENDS energy. These three songs are best friends. And also like, for the last couple of releases Ruki’s been doing lots of wordplay and metaphors and using euphemisms, but this set of lyrics is just completely honest and STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART. Like, there ARE metaphors and symbols but he’s talking COMPLETELY about himself and his FEELINGS. I get emo whenever I listen to this song.”

(Carry?) “Apparently it’s about Frankenstein’s monster, so I guess this is another Concept Song. So this explains the flat vocals – the monster is undead but also…very sad and confused about what it is and its place in the world. ISN’T THAT ALL OF US ON SOME LEVEL…HAHA…”

“Zakurogata no Yuutsu is that 2010 fb meme where someone sees their partner right before going into a heart surgery only to wake up to find they’re gone and the doctor is like ‘omg who do you think gave you the heart😔’”

“WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID I SLEEP ON HANAKOTOBA. THIS IS AOI SONG SUPERIORITY. THE GUITAR SOLO IS ALSO GORGEOUS. Also love what he did with the melody getting higher in the end when the narrator questions the existence of the love they lost. AND THEY DIDN’T RESOLVE THE FUCKING CHORD PROGRESSION OHHH MY GODDDD BECAUSE “I’LL WITHER AWAY, NEVER KNOWING THE ANSWER” //THROWS. THESE GENIUSES. THIS IS THE BEST SONG ON THE ALBUM SO FAR AND THAT’S👏ON👏AOI👏SUPERIORITY👏Also I know that, literally, Hanakotoba is a flower on the side of the road but LISTEN. This is a soul that just wants love...This is the anthem for us lonely invisible bitches <3 This song has the MOST yearning. Thank u Aoi for my life. Like he is TRULY the composer with the most emotionality.”

(Tokyo Shinjuu) “I LOVEEEE THE BASS. This has a very old, classic Japanese style and it’s just…so good. You can really hear it in the melody. Also there’s just something SO feminine about it and I KNOW it’s that classic Japanese sound and like…god I love this gender bending with music. I adore the guitars too I think there’s such a good balance between them.”

(Shichigatsu no Youka) “I love how the lyrics are between sections too – the most emotional parts are in the big, emotional chorus, and the verses are more mellow when the narrator is sort of…more detached and Not Crying… The guitar melodies are really pretty and the solo is just GORGEOUS. It’s such a bittersweet song as well (god GazettE just do bittersweet EXTREMELY WELL) like bruh…already being sad over a breakup and OH DOUBLE WHAMMY THEY’VE MOVED ON like. Ruki sweetie I’m so sorry.”

[a rant about how I know Saraba is well-meaning and is about the peace and unity of a nation and is EXPLICITLY anti-war which I can definitely appreciate but my Chinese ass was just NOT having the whole painting the Japanese army as heroes deal]

(Reila) “Ruki’s vocals are SO GOOD here. ALSO YELLING AT THE BASS AND KICK DRUM BEFORE THE SECOND VERSE WITH THE PIANO. THE WAY THE KICK DRUM PANS THRU THE EARS. MOTHERFUCKER. AND THEN TO COME IN WITH THE GUITAR SOLO HOW DARE!!!!! YOU PLAY WITH MY EMOTIONS LIKE THIS!!!!!”

“COCKROACH SLAPS. Love that he reframes being compared to a cockroach as like, resilient (I’ll never break through -> I want to believe I’ll break through), and he’s embracing his crudeness and taking a huge dose of PHUCEMOL.” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Sugar Pain) “God Aoi’s intro though………..I HATE THE BREATHING SO MUCH. No I’m actually really angry right now why is it actually good. YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE GOOD.” (I then had to stop after the first chorus for obvious reasons)

“Idk why the first thing I thought of when Bite to All started was ‘yeehaw’…[Also] I hate how I know exactly who is screaming at the end and when.”

“BTS 🤝 GazettE Gunshots in songs”

[My personal interpretation of Nausea & Shudder is not that it’s about the pressure of being true to oneself in the face of success, but rather that success itself is not what Ruki expected it to be and he’s figuring out how to navigate that and move forward. It is also just a really good set of lyrics.]

“There’s just a hopelessness that’s so profound in [Bath Room]. Like if depression was a song IT WOULD SOUND A LOT LIKE THIS… Up until this point this is the Darkest song AND WE’RE ONLY GONNA GET DARKER FROM HERE *sweats in DIM*”

“I love these unsaid words Ruki leaves in the booklets. Adds layers and messages for the listener (usually of hope)”

(Silly God Disco) “After reading the lyrics I love this song soo much more. Like it’s actually really nice to think about dancing and living life because you have rock music and it makes you happy. Also the FUNK. The flavour. Not only that, but the way Ruki SWEARS he will live happily, without fear, and always moving past pain and towards freedom and glory. And he INVITES the listener with him. This is just SO nice.”

“I think it’s interesting that like…for an album that is sort of Known to be depressing as hell, there are quite a lot of songs about resilience and just…living and moving forward. Depending on what the rest of the albums are about, NIL might actually be, weirdly, the one with the most hope in it.”

(Worthless War) ““Do you shoot first so you won’t get hurt? / Do you call that sort of thing ‘justice’” damn Worthless War spilled. This sounds like a whole lot of anxiety surrounding war, and a very strong criticism against the government for caring more about power than people. Even though violence is despair, he also says that this age of political tension and FEAR is also despair. And he is correct. Ruki: ALSO THE EARTH IS DYING???” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Rich Excrement) ““Lyric killer is erectile dysfunction” + “Biters should check it out too” -> you’re a limp dick who rips off other people’s work I AM SCREAMINGGGGGG.”” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

(Crucify Sorrow) “The main metaphor here is someone who is an insect with a broken shell – an empty person. With depression, probably…And I cannot help but think about Utsusemi, in which he uses this EXACT metaphor to describe himself and his own depression, his loneliness and his desire to disappear. Was this a coincidence??🤔”

(GANGES NI AKAI BARA) “I really like this song – music and lyrics both. Like even though it’s sad that the girl was in a lot of pain, kills herself and is condemned by her church, the narrator bringing her to Ganges and doing a sacred ritual for her so that she can find salvation is actually really really kind and meaningful??? Not only because it’s an act of kindness but also because the pain she was experiencing was emotional/mental (with the constant tsu-tsu-tsura-tsura-tsurai), salvation could relieve her soul from exactly that.” (Apparently Ruki said the narrator is Buddhist but in the context of the song Hindu makes more sense, so I’m just going with that)

(Calm Envy) ““If you could love even these words I’ve thrown your way / I could keep trusting only you as you stand in front of me / It hurts every time you bring up the past you’ve suddenly shown me / I want to love even that empty space where I don’t exist / I’ll wipe away my tears so you wouldn’t notice them / So don’t smile in front of me anymore than this” – SHUT UP THIS SHIT IS REALLY UNCONDITIONAL BUT THEY’RE TIRED OF BEING HURT. GOODBYE. GOODBYEEEEE.” (Cr: Heresiarchy)

(Circle of Swindler) “Ruki writing "how much do you buy us for? let's negotiate [the] value of pain" in circle of swindler to demand respect and acknowledgement of his worth from the higher ups of the music industry because it's the music born from his pain that's making their money is Quite sexy” (Cr: Defective Tragedy)

“[Stacked Rubbish] is about the baggage we have, the baggage we give each other, the Errors we make precisely because we are People who have souls. I think the point (of this album being like an anthology) is that everyone could find something in this album that speaks to them.”

[deamstellarus]

In Viata Asta (3)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 6k Warnings: Uhm…none? Maybe injuries and language?

A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? Also yes I know, this gif doesn’t have that much to do with this update but I love how it looks.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed.

“You don’t want to do that, zvezdochka. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat. 

“How long...?” You croaked. 

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… Steve.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said. 

"Sorry, sir,  I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me." 

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.

__________

As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary.  

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.” 

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design. 

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo. 

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that.  

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side. 

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most. 

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded. 

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go. 

"You scared me, zvezdochka," she whispered into your hair. 

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood. 

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?” 

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head. 

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.” 

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least Agent M?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.” 

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, sestrenka.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable. __________

Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a few stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise. 

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone. 

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child. 

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight and a half pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize. 

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are ‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.”  

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye. 

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off. 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago. 

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”

__________

You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl. 

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object. 

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, Agent M?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it. 

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying. 

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong. __________

Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily. 

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash. 

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again. 

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat. 

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic. __________

It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs. 

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.” 

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?” 

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Ingeras?” _________

A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!

zvezdochka (Russian) - little star sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis ingeras (Romanian) - angel

_________

In Viata Asta Taglist:  @rvgrsbrns​ @artsyspacebee​ @thelovelydreamer17​

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyung x OC)

[  This chapter’s a little short but the next one will be a lot longer.] 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I woke up in small increments of pain. 

My arms and legs felt heavy and there was a sort of pressure on my rib, and my eye stung like it was being doused with acid. there was an acrid taste of blood in my mouth and I tried to open my mouth to exhale but my jaw ached somehting fierce. 

When i finally opened my good eye, i nearly had a heart attack. 

Luna was looming over my face, her eyes wide and lower lip caught between her teeth , a look of great worry on her tiny face. She looked absolutely stricken as she stared at me and i tried not to have a panic attack.

“Hey , sweetie.” i croaked out weakly and she let out an ‘ oh’before leaping off the bed and racing away. i took a deep shuddering breath before levering myself up into my elbows. I seemed to be unharmed from the waist down so after a little bit of wincing and straining , I’d managed to sit up , cautiously lowering my feet to the floor. My ribs felt like splinters and each breath was painful. 

Luna had run out of the room, presumably down the hallway and I heard her scream from about a dozen feet away. 

“PAPA!!!! SHE’S AWAKE!! MISS LEE!!!! SHE’S AWAKE!!!!”

I groaned. So he’d brought me home. I vaguely remembered demanding him to but I’d never for a second expected that he would actually listen. I glanced around the room , surprised by how...normal it looked. There was a TV, a small bookshelf, a reading chair and some plants on the window sill. The curtains were a cool aquamarine blue , filtering out almost all of the weak morning sun. Outside, the rain had slowed down to a steady drizzle and a cool breeze drifted in through the open shades. 

I heard the door open a little and swallowed when i saw Kim Taehyung , framed by the mahogany doorway. He was dressed in pressed black slacks, a soft white shirt half un-tucked and there was thin black a bow tie hanging loose over his neck. 

I felt something wrap around the base of my belly, gripping hard and pulling and i had to press my thighs together just to fight the sharp , painful flash of arousal that shot straight to my center. 

It really wasn’t fair , how beautiful he looked. 

I looked away quickly, aware that he could probably hear my heart pounding.

“You’re going to be okay. Nothing’s broken. The doctor thinks in a few days you’ll be as good as new.” He said finally and I swallowed. It certainly didn’t feel like it would be fine in a few days but I wasn’t going to argue with him.  

Of course, it was my fault. 

“I understand. . Is there a way i can get back to the mainland?” I said , groggy. 

He didn’t reply for a second.

“For security’s sake, I think you should stay in the preserve. There’s an investigation going on from last night and they’ve arrested the wolves who were involved.” He looked uncomfortable.

I stared back up at him, my heart sinking a little. 

“I wasn’t going to press charges.” I said weakly and he shrugged.

“They broke the law. It wasn’t right. It’s not right to attack humans that way” 

I felt the urge to say that technically him and his cohorts had pretty much instigated the whole thing by rallying werewolves against humans on the preserve.  

“I’m glad you’re such a crusader for justice.” i said , unable to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. 

A few seconds of silence had me fidgeting.

“Well?” I stared at him and he flinched. 

“Nothing , I.... You told me you didn’t have any family back in the mainland...” He moved a little closer and i stiffened , some primal instinct screaming at me to run. I felt my throat go dry as I shook my head.

“i have... friends. i can take care of myself.” i said softly. Taehyung had stopped a few feet away and he held both his hands up. It took me a second to realize that I had curled away and held my fists up in defense. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Mirae ssi.” He said carefully, eyes worried as he stared at me. I felt a hysterical laugh build up inside me. 

“It’s too late for that.” I snapped out, which , fine, it was unfair, but i refused to feel bad about the flash of guilt that went across his face. 

“Mirae....” He began again but the door opened , Luna hurtling in with the speed of a tiny tornado. Before either of us could react, she had jumped into the bed, her arms reaching out to crush me in a hug. I flinched, bracing myself for a pain that never came. 

A second before she managed to reach me, Taehyung had plucked her out of the bed, arms secure around her waist as he hauled her up into his embrace.

“Sweetheart, Ms Yoon is still getting better, you don’t wanna hurt her do you?” He said rather sharply, voice vibrating with his signature alpha growl and I felt myself flinch at the tone. 

His daughter apparently, had a similar reaction to her father’s voice. 

Luna’s lips wobbled for a few seconds and then suddenly without any warning a pair of fluffy , fur ears popped up on her head. I almost yelped as she turned around to look at me me, face a little furry and forehead creased together and wrinkled, her chubby little nose flatted into a nub. 

The laughter got torn out of me before i could tamp it down.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable...!!” I exclaimed. 

The wobbling lips stiffened and the forehead stopped scrunching. 

“wee-ally?” She sniffled around a pair of razor sharp fangs curving over the top of her lip. Her eyes were wide and blue, almost cerulean in their brightness.

“Jesus...” Taehyung muttered under his breath, eyes flashing red at his daughter. She blinked , giving him a broody pout before slowly shifting back. 

He carefully deposited her back on the bed before giving her small hug. 

“Go play with Ms Lee...” He said softly, voice brooking no argument  and waited till she was out of the door, before turning to me.

“I can’t stop you if you want to leave, but if you hear me out, that would be great.”

I stayed quiet, watching him.

He cleared his throat. 

“Luna has been a bit difficult the past few months. It’s... She lost her mother last year and it has been a hard transition for both of us. She doesn’t take to kindly to strangers or even her babysitters. For the past nine months I’ve blown through sitters like a pack of cigarettes.” He grimaced.

I frowned.

“What does that have to-”

“She likes you.” He said softly, his tone suggesting that it was painful to say out loud. “I spoke to your associates at the research center. They can only offer unpaid leave for the next three weeks and I know that they can technically reassign your living quarters during the time.  If you agree to stay on the preserve, I’ll arrange for you to be remunerated.”

“I feel like there’s a catch here...” i said wearily.

“My daughter needs someone to keep her company.” He said hesitantly.

i bit my lips. It sounded like the perfect recipe for disaster, straight out of every tragic love story in the world.

“Alpha  Kim..” i began , almost desperately. 

“Call me Taehyung... please.” He said softly. 

I stared at him.

“Alpha Kim.” I said firmly, “ I’m not equipped to handle were babies. I have no experience.”

A perfect pair of brows went up, questioning yet judging. 

“They’re just like human babies, Ms. Yoon. They want to be loved.” He said dryly. 

I bit my lips. There was nothing i could say to that. 

He waited for a few more seconds before sighing.

“She’s a lot like her mother. She needs to have her own way and she is affectionate to a fault. She grows attached too quickly and...” He shook his head. “ She hasn’t lost control over her shift in the past two years but after we met you...she’s so distressed , she shifts over the smallest thing. “ He hesitated, looking conflicted. “ I don’t want to offend you but you do smell a bit like my ...wife. She wasn’t human but she....preferred to wear a scent very similar to yours.”

I frowned. i hadn’t used a perfume in years, because i worked closely with sick wolves with really sensitive noses. But i didn’t really feel compelled to argue the semantics with Taehyung.

“If it makes you feel better, you’ll have zero contact with me....” He said quickly, like it . Mrs. Lee will be with her, she’ll take care of all her physical needs. Food clothes... all of it.... I’m just ...”  He bit his lips and there was genuine pain in his gaze, “ Just asking you to keep her company. I have a very important campaign coming up and I just...I’ll rest better knowing that my daughter is happy and she genuinely seems to be happy with you. ”

“You’re not really giving me much grounds to refuse. i don’t have anywhere else to go and i need the cash.” i muttered.

“And...?” He prompted.

“And I do adore your daughter. So yes, I’ll stick around for a couple of weeks.” I said finally. 

He relaxed visibly, reaching out to tousle his messy hair. 

“Are you sure?” He said softly. 

I tried not to stare at the silky locks, which really seemed to glow with every shade of gold, honey and whiskey.

“Uh.. yeah. I’m sure .” I shrugged.

He smiled suddenly and without warning and I felt my heart skip three consecutive beats. 

Oh, Christ the man was gorgeous. 

I was in so much trouble. 

[twiststreet]

I read the year’s big (biggest?) industrial-comics debut Undiscovered Country, which is the “hotly anticipated” team-up of Scott Snyder (who I’d only read maybe 3 or 4 comics from before since he writes for DC and I don’t read those) and my colleague in the law Charles Soule, Esq. (who I’ve never read before because his books sounded boring). They join a pretty A+ team on the visual side of Guiseppe Camuncoli (who I’ve really liked for years), Daniel Orlandini, Matt Wilson, and also letters from Crank!  Crank! is on the team, guys!  Jason Statham’s heart is going to explode unless he letters this TV pitch masquerading as a comic, and then has sex with the girl from Road Trip somewhere that’s demeaning to her...

Anyways, there’s a comic they could make here, but it’s a TV pitch instead.  There’s a dozen indistinguishable people in this book, none of whom emerge successfully as characters.  All of the pages look kinda like this image, of just people in a room talking to one another instead of... visual storytelling happening... in a comic book?  And then a premise is presented, but the comic’s constantly time-hopping so it doesn’t really unfold in a way that for me felt dramatic or satisfying.  And then it ends on a Brian Vaughan-style one-page splash of a character going “Huh?  Huuuuuuuh?”  

That said, there’s a comic here that could’ve been made with this idea, and if they made a TV show I’d watch it, if it was on Netflix, and it was a Korean soap opera called “A Doctor’s Love Song in the Rain.”  It’s a good premise--it’s very much them doing a 60′s post-Trek sci-fi show except updated-- stuff like Lost in Space or Land of the Lost, but set in a post-apocalyptic America.  I like the idea of a show like that-- I liked how big and broad those shows would get, Lost in Space especially.  (I never saw the Time Tunnel).   So, yeah, I guess the comic succeeds in its only noticeable goal-- I’d watch the TV show.

It’s the kind of the comic where the first page is just four panels slowly zooming in on a helicopter...?  Check out another exciting image from these guys with an immense amount of visual storytelling experience:

Most of the comic is built out of double-page spreads, so if you’re a digital reader, you might want to actively avoid it.  I’m more of a single-page guy, but they use the technique well, I suppose.  Camuncoli’s pages are never confusing for me, though there’s a double-page splash of all the bad guys that I don’t think is successful because they insist on a wide view of things the way a TV camera would, rather than finding a point of view that’s actually dramatic and tells a story, the way a comic book would.  And Wilson does this really gorgeous pink smoke in the book, with a texture on top of it-- I was into how he colored the smoke.  And boy, Jason Statham sure had to put a lot of lettering onto those pages-- those guys sure didn’t team up with someone who’d edit them!  So I mean, Jason Statham got the job done on the lettering-- but of course he did, Jason Statham “swallowed enough microchips and shit them back out again to make a computer.”

They put a McGuffin time-bomb under the premise, to keep the plot motivated, and they give at least one character a clear motivation relating to that time bomb.  They give another character a relationship with her and create some fake-y “mystery” around that character to play out later.  If you’re learning like Screenwriting 101, they’re doing Screenwriting 101 so you could probably find things to appreciate.  You can read this comic alongside Save the Cat or whatever, and good luck with your career. It’s a commercial product and they’re hitting some kind of beat sheet successfully.  

Or I can imagine this someday being a kind of fun Sunday afternoon comic to go through a few dozen of, mindlessly-- I suspect it’s pleasures will accrete slowly, but be at least somewhat there for that future Sunday reader, in a way that isn’t true for the first issue on its own, which offers no noticeable pleasure. 

But: the most fascinating thing about this comic was the back matter though, a strange celebration of the military-industrial complex.  This comic was apparently inspired by members of the CIA and DARPA...??  

The military industrial complex obviously has had a long history of infiltrating and promoting themselves through other artforms (obviously video games; the creation of modern art; I love Michael Bay movies, and I know what I’ve watched, etc.).  And they’ve obviously made overtures in recent years to comics-- Marvel and its relationship with Raytheon.  

And I’m... I’m a little more ambivalent about the military and everything than some people online about all that because I’m not kneejerk anti-military, though I mean... the CIA’s a big ask, especially with the world events of this last week.  I’ve had friends who aren’t alive though because they wanted to do something for their country (it’s more complicated than that, how they died but), so I have to always keep that in mind when I talk about that stuff, however much I’m not a huge fan of various foreign policies or stupid fucking wars or our robot death fleet or whatever.  I’m also kinda into just some people getting blown up.  I don’t subscribe to pacificism in all contexts, which is maybe not to my credit, especially given the history of my family and my people generally.  

But it’s kind of wild to get a random comic and just see the fingerprints of that so clearly.  Like, they couch it in “oh our wives are friends now” this is a family friend comic, and then immediately pivot to CIA agents and their “incredible acts of service... men and women whose names will forever remain unknown but whose sacrifices will never be forgotten.” ???  Referring to like, the guy who held the hose during the water-boarding?  All the Latin American dictatorships we taught torture techniques to?  Whatever the hell we did in Greece?  (Wikipedia: “Phillips Talbot, the U.S. ambassador in Athens, disapproved of the coup, complaining that it represented "a rape of democracy", to which John M. Maury, the CIA station chief in Athens, answered, "How can you rape a whore?"”).  Like, I’m not as anti-CIA as other people-- there’s bad actors in the world.  But there’s tolerating with some shame a necessary evil, and then there’s doing full-throated advertisements for it in the back of your comics...? 

But just setting that aside... comics had an era where it was disregarded and it attracted counterculture people and counterculture thinking.  And that era ended and then we had screenwriters and careerists.  And most of the time I’ve been writing has been during that time of change-- it took me a while to understand that the gears had changed.  And now with all the movies and all the success, it’s like... 

Cool Cool Cool Cool, the drones that swarm the enemy at Pakistani weddings.  Here’s Wikipedia: “The New America Foundation estimates that for the period 2004-2011, the non-militant fatality rate [from drones] was approximately 20%.”

This is the big comic by the big stars, and I mean, that’s a wild paragraph. Are people talking about this???  I haven’t gone and looked-- anytime I go and look, I’m always just... I mean... ooof-- but within the context of comics history... Where is the counterculture in comics now?  

I mean, at the same time, Frank Miller was pretty much always a fascist and I loved him as a kid. So maybe I’m overstating things or it’s not significant because I only grew up like 10-15% fascist (it jumps to 30% in certain neighborhoods *glares at La Brea and Melrose ... I hate you Pink’s...*). And not full-blown “I’m going to spend years making a Batman graphic novel, celebrating what a racist loon I am, and then blame it on alcohol” Frank Miller fascist, but...

I just thought that shit was wild as fuck, that’s all....

Hahahahahahaha....

Comic books.

[quiche-pocket]

So You Think Your Boss Is A Cult Leader, Steve Harrington?

Steve Harrington has a new boss when he starts at the video store. There are three things about him of which Steve is sure:

He speaks some sort of gibberish language that sounds made up

He is on first name basis with high school girls when he has to be at least 30

The dude is clearly up to something and it’s up to Steve to stop him

A/N: I posted a teaser yesterday of what this insanity is about, but as a recap: This story is a gen fic crossover involving Steve Harrington and some other special Stranger Things characters, and Marco Ilsø who plays Hvitserk Lothbrook on the show Vikings. It came about because a video on Instagram back in July showed Marco standing on the side of the road waiting for his brother and he looks lost, and like a little old confused man. Somehow Steve Harrington got pulled into the madness and this is the brain child that came out. This happens post Season 3 of Stranger Things but there should not be any spoilers. Thanks as always to @athroatfullofglass and @x-valhalla for letting me bounce things off of them and helping it make sense! Thank you so much all of you that stop to read this, I know it’s a bit nuts but it’s been so much fun so I hope you all like it also!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. Their names and likeness belong to the people themselves or the creators. I make no profit off of using the names this is all for fun because I have no sense! The Steve and Dustin gif is from @lunatician and the Marco gif was made by the beautiful allvikingsgifs who is no longer on tumblr.

Warnings: This is PG I would think, possibly Teen. There is a bit of language by minors and adults as well as parties involving high school kids drinking and smoking weed and talking about sex. Also, please note that in this first part Steve is not very sympathetic or understanding of Marco, who he is suspicious of because he is newish to town and speaks another language. Please bear with me in this and remember that these kids have been through a lot with the Russians and the doctors and scientists and everyone. They are likely to be suspicious of everyone, it’s just Steve’s turn this time.  

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

“So I hear you’re best friends with a bunch of children,” Steve heard from behind him near the end of his first shift at the video store. He pulled his fingers through his hair and took a steadying breath hating this conversation.  

“They aren’t children anymore, they’re high schoolers. But yeah, I spend time with people younger than me. It’s not creepy though!” He said defiantly and spun around to face his new boss. Yelling at him was probably not a great first impression but how does everyone know about Dustin and the rest of them when they’ve never been to the store? Hawkins isn’t that small.  

“Hey, man, no judgement I was just making conversation. High school, though? They cool?” Marco, his boss, was leaning back against the back counter where the tapes were tossed to reshelf. He wasn’t in uniform as it should have been his day off but he was checking up on the new employees, so he had on a peach colored silk shirt with a loud pattern and blue jeans with his black converse.  

“Yeah they’re cool. Well, a couple of them. The girls are a bit weird, but that’s a whole other situation. One of them’s got a shitty home life and the other... I guess she has a pretty shitty home life too. But yeah, they’re cool.” Steve turned and greeted a couple of girls who had just come in the door. He kicked up the charm and flipped his hair before jumping over the counter and heading over to them.  

“Hey Marco,” one of the girls giggled and waved. He grinned and started organizing the tapes on the counter.

“So, Marco,” the same girlish voice came from behind him and he walked over to the register, leaning on the counter so they were eye to eye.  

“What’s up, Becky? You here to get the ones I told you about on Saturday?”  

Steve was standing off to the side watching the exchange with morbid curiosity. As soon as he’d walked over to the girls, they had split and not given him the time of day. Then they had been giggling and whispering before Becky, apparently, went to talk to his boss. It didn’t look like Marco was flirting, but the girl definitely was. She was blushing and tucking her hair behind her ear and leaning in whenever she had something to say. Steve didn’t have trouble with the ladies so much anymore, but he had never seen someone work it this easily outside of high school jocks.  

“Rita let’s go!” Becky called and she straightened the hem of her bright colored mini skirt before flouncing off to the door, her friend materializing from behind a rack. “See you on Saturday Marco!” Both girls giggled again and waved. Steve watched his boss smirk and wave back.  

“Have a good day, girls!” Steve called and they both froze, staring at him, before bursting into shrieking laughter and running out the door.  

To say Steve was embarrassed was putting it mildly. Marco hadn’t commented on the reaction of Becky and her friend, but Steve heard a snicker before his back was turned. Heading back behind the counter he started to get ready to hand the shift over to Robin when she got there in a bit. No one else was in the store, Marco had gone into the back office again, so Steve leaned against the counter to think over what he had just witnessed.  

Steve knew very little about his new boss, but he knew he was older and had been in town off and on since Steve had graduated from high school and just like everyone else in this town, he seemed to have some baggage. He had a weird accent and was very private from what Steve could tell. His taste in movies and music was killer, though, Steve had to respect the man for that. But what the hell was he doing hanging out with high school girls on the weekends? Was the guy a creep? Had Steve completely misread him? Maybe he did stuff with a church? Or did he teach classes at the YMCA? Maybe he did tutoring like Nancy did. Marco didn’t seem like the kind of guy to help underprivileged kids, but clearly Steve didn’t know enough about him to rule it out. 

“Hey dingus!” Steve’s head fell to the counter when he heard Robin’s telltale greeting. “How many did you strike out with this time?”

“None, thank you very much...” He was about to defend himself when another voice joined in.

“Two, actually.” Steve whirled around again to face Marco who was leaning against the door frame, eyes laughing. “At the same time.” Robin let out a howl of laughter and this time Marco did join in. There was a bond between them that made Steve nervous. Any time Robin sided with someone else against Steve it never worked out well. He’d need to look somewhere else for backup on what this guy’s story is.  

“Fun as this is, if you’re here Robin then I’m out. Got a date tonight!” Robin rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder.  

“A night at home with your door locked and a bottle of lotion is not a date, dingus.” Steve did not dignify that with a response, choosing to make a face at her like the mature adult that he was at eighteen years old. She just waved her hand dismissing him and went behind the counter to start organizing the tapes to go back.  

Steve heard Marco say something that sounded like gibberish and Robin laughed.

“Ja, han er en idiot*,” Robin replied. Steve understood the last word and turned to glare at her. That’s it, Steve decided, if Robin had joined a cult with this asshole where they speak in code he was going to get to the bottom of it. Time to bring in reinforcements.  

*Yeah, he’s an idiot

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

Steve knocked on the door and waited anxiously, shifting his weight between his feet.  

“Steve, hello! What a nice surprise,” Mrs. Henderson opened the door, holding a struggling cat in one arm.

“Hi Mrs. H. how are you? I wanted to stop by and see if Dustin was here?”  

“Yes of course, he’s upstairs! Come in. Would you like juice or some lemonade?” She asked, still trying to wrestle the cat and usher Steve into the entryway.  

“Oh no thanks, Mrs. H. I actually can’t stay long I just need to talk to Dustin really fast. New cat?” He asked, feeling awkward now just standing there with her.

“Yes! Dusty got him for me for my birthday, isn’t he perfect?” To be honest, the cat looked a little deranged but who was Steve to ruin this sweet woman’s view of her new pet.  

“Yeah, yeah he’s great.” Steve gingerly held a hand out to the cat when Dustin’s mom lifted him closer. The cat slashed the air with one lightning fast paw and Steve leapt backwards, knocking into the stair banister and kicking the coat rack.  

“Mom?” Dustin called down the stairs at the commotion. “Is everything okay?” There were footsteps and suddenly a curly haired face appeared at the top of the stairs peering down anxiously. The expression cleared immediately when he saw Steve. “Hey buddy! What’s up? Come on up, I’m just getting started on a new project.”

Steve waved at Mrs. Henderson and gave a wide berth to avoid the cat while going around the banister to meet Dustin.

“Dusty don’t kill the power today, okay? The neighbors are getting mad. You boys have fun, though,” and with that she headed down the hallway to what Steve knew was the kitchen. She’d likely be up in a few minutes with a plate of snacks and some juice.  

Steve hurried up the steps and followed Dustin into his room.  

“What’s up, man? I didn’t know you were coming by today. I’ve got a new game, wanna play?”  

“No, Dustin, I’m here because we have a problem.” Steve’s eyes were slightly manic and Dustin froze before going into panic mode.  

“What! What happened! Is it the Russians? Did the gate open again? We have to call Eleven!” Dustin started to flail around grabbing at the walkie-talkie before Steve hit him upside the head to get his attention.

“No it’s not that!” Steve took a deep breath, drawing out the drama to maximum levels. “It’s my boss.”

“At the video store?”  

“No shit at the video store! He’s up to something, man, and I don’t know what it is. I can’t ask Robin to help because I think he’s got her involved in it too! They were speaking in code today and I just know he’s recruiting her into some government experiment or cult or something!” Steve’s voice rose and became higher pitched as he talked. Dustin started to look panicked again.

“Okay okay. Start at the beginning.” Dustin went to his desk and pulled out a notebook and a pen, looking at Steve expectantly.

“Well he speaks this weird language and it sounds totally made up. He talks out of the corner of his mouth, which he doesn’t do when he’s talking to me like normal people.”

“You mean talking to you in English?” Dustin asked and there was a small smirk on his lips.

“Yeah. Shut up it’s weird.” Steve replied defensively.

“Sure, I bet it’s totally weird man. What else makes you think he’s up to something besides his made up language?”  

“Well, he’s got to be old, right? Like 30. And he’s talking to Becky and Rita at the store about hanging out on the weekend. What adult hangs out with people that much younger than him?” Steve was pacing and missed Dustin rolling his eyes.  

“Okay so he speaks another language. And he hangs out with high schoolers. And he works with you at the video store.” Dustin trailed off. “What else have you got?”  

Steve looked at him in exasperation.  

“Isn’t that enough? Dude is weird. And Robin likes him. Robin doesn’t like anybody but she’s in there laughing and joking with him and talking in that weird code. We need to do some digging, Dustin, this guy is bad news.”  

“Wait, is this about Robin? Dude we’ve been over this. You and she have been over this. It’s never ever going to happen without some serious work being done on your part and even then...” Steve threw a pillow from Dustin’s bed at him.  

“No this is not about Robin!” Steve cried. “This is about a creepy stranger who I work for and I think he’s up to some gnarly stuff and needs to be stopped! Are you going to help me or not? Please don’t make me go to Nancy, Jonathan is visiting and I don’t want to deal with them.”

“I’ll help, dude. We need to set up surveillance. When does he work next? Maybe we can go over to his house and look through the windows and garbage. Or we can try and follow him this weekend?”

“Let’s start at the house, he should be at work all day tomorrow. I want to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.” Steve gave a determined nod and that was the end of that conversation.

“All right, we will go tomorrow after school and look around. Don’t worry buddy, we’ll figure this out whatever it is!” Dustin held his hand out and they shook on it then Steve sat down and watched Dustin set up his new game.  

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

While waiting outside the high school for Dustin to come out, Steve had a lot of time to think about what they were about to do. He’d done plenty of spying and sneaking around over the years, mostly with Dustin and the others, but this time was different. It felt more personal and therefor more dangerous.  

A bang on his window brought Steve out of his deep thoughts and he flailed before he heard the loud bursts of laughter from outside his car. Dustin was at the passenger window with his hands on his knees gasping for breath between guffaws and Lucas was just behind him pointing and drawing even more attention. Steve leaned over and unlocked the door and Dustin got in front and Lucas in the back.  

“Uh, I thought it was just you and me, man,” Steve glanced behind him at Lucas who was still snickering while putting his seatbelt on.

“Well, I figured we could use a lookout or something, and Lucas is good at finding clues and stuff. Would you rather I brought Mike?” Dustin cocked his head and Steve rolled his eyes.

“No. Don’t be stupid. It’s fine, let’s just go.”  

As they drove through town the two younger boys bantered about some science experiment Dustin claims Lucas and Will ruined. Lucas said it was Mike’s fault. Dustin said it was Lucas’s. Steve was getting a headache and they hadn’t even gotten to the house yet.  

It wasn’t hard to find the house Marco had bought a few months before. It was close to the video store and the gas station. The yard was well kept but bare except for one tree and two bushy shrubs near the front window. No cars were in the driveway as they expected, so Steve drove down to the end of the street and parked before they circled back to the house on foot and crept around to where the trash can was.  

“Okay, you two start here, I’m going to see if I can see anything through the windows back there. Thank God it’s not a two story house.” Steve sighed and the other two looked like they were going to protest at being on trash duty so he took off around the side of the house before they could start.  

Steve looked in the kitchen window first as it was the first one he came to. Nothing seemed out of place. There was a small table with two bar stools, a loaf of bread on the counter and some dirty dishes in the sink. Boring. Moving along the wall he looked in on a living room with a TV and VCR and way more seating than a single guy would need. There were those small blankets that the Wheeler’s have on their couches and chairs. Steve even saw coasters to put under drinks. Did this dude have a girlfriend no one knew about? Was he gay and was trying to impress a new boyfriend? He didn’t seem like he was, but Robin always said Steve’s gaydar was missing. What was this guy’s deal?

“Steve! Come here!” He heard Lucas call and he jogged over to the trash can.  

“So, mostly we found chip and cracker bags, egg cartons, bologna and cheese packages and hamburger meat wrappers...” Dustin rattled off quickly.

“Okay, food trash. You didn’t call me over here for that did you? Besides that being a lot of trash for one guy.” Steve interrupted.  

“No!” Lucas yelled and Steve glared at him. “Look what’s in the bottom!”  

Steve peered over the side of the can and saw the bottom third was full of alcohol bottles. Not beer. Hard alcohol. Spirits or whatever the snobby people his parents used to bring around called it. There was everything from tequila to whiskey and none of it looked like the stuff Steve and his friends normally drank. It looked halfway decent but there was so much. No way one guy drank this much between pickup days which brought him back to his discoveries spying in the windows.  

“Well maybe he doesn’t live alone,” he started but Dustin cut him off.

“Steve no one has ever seen anyone with him. He’s not dating any of the girls in town.” Lucas and Dustin looked at each other and were about to go off on another tangent that Steve wouldn’t be able to break up.

“No, shut up listen! His house is weird. There are way too many places to sit and he has those blankets like they have over at the Wheeler’s cause Mrs. Wheeler thinks they look good. And he has coasters! No bachelor has coasters. So he’s either got a girlfriend. Or he’s gay. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s weird no one has ever seen him with someone!” Steve ended defensively.

“Or maybe,” Dustin’s eyes were shining. “Maybe he has his mom in the basement like,” he looked at Lucas and they finished together, “Norman Bates in Psycho!”  

Steve stared at them both. Everyone was officially loony again and that’s all there is to it. The younger boys looked back at him like they were thinking the same thing about Steve.  

“Look. It doesn’t matter what you two are talking about. Whatever the reason he has all that fancy stuff is, he’s still a weirdo and he’s bringing Robin into his cult and possibly all the other teenage girls in town! He’s the next Charles Manson unless we stop him.” Steve had that manic look in his eyes again and Dustin stepped forward with a cautious hand extended to try and appease him.  

“I’m not totally sure what quilts and blankets and coasters have to do with cults, but I think we need to calm down a little bit buddy. This guy is someone who moved into town a little while ago and no one really knows him.”

“Except Robin and all the other girls.” Steve interrupted. Dustin sighed.  

“Yes. Except Robin and the two other girls who you can prove know of him, except that only one actually spoke to him. So two girls that are younger than him. Do you know who else hangs out with two girls that are younger than him?” Dustin and Lucas look at Steve with innocent eyes but are obviously holding back snickers.  

“Shut up both of you! It’s not the same and you know it. I’ve known you guys forever, and I don’t hang out with El and Max, I hang out with you guys sometimes and they happen to be there. But either way!” his voice rose and Steve started to walk back to the street so he could go to his car. “Either way, this was helpful. We know he’s an alcoholic and may have a woman staying with him or he’s gay. He speaks in gibberish. And he talks to, and associates with, girls who are more than ten years younger than him I’d bet. That’s enough for me. I say we get ready to follow him this weekend. I’m off on Saturday, I’ll pick both of you up and we can do some more investigating and follow him around.” At that he strode off with newfound purpose.  

The house hadn’t provided the concrete evidence he had hoped for, like a body laying out on the table with machines hooked up to it. Or a group of naked people having a drum circle in the yard like he saw in that Manson family documentary Nancy and Jonathan made him watch with them. The house did provide more proof that Marco was weird and that Steve needed to work a little harder to find out exactly what his damage was.  

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

Saturday morning Dustin showed up at Steve’s house on his bike alone, thank God. He didn’t want to deal with the others today it was stressful enough. Robin had been asking questions the whole day before about what his plans were for today. She would not accept his answer of spending time with his parents so he had to tell her he and Dustin were hanging out.  

“All right dude here’s the plan. You are going to go down to the store and see if he’s there. See if you can hear anything. I’ll wait out back and see if anything looks weird back there.” Dustin gave a mocking salute and headed to the front of the building.  

Steve wandered and checked the back of the store. Nothing looked out of place or unusual. There were boxes and trash typical of getting new stock to the store. It looked like today was going to be just as much of a bust as going to the house had been. That’s when he heard a voice from an open window right above him. He dove behind his car and pulled out the recorder he’s started carrying everywhere thanks to Dustin and the others.

“Nej jeg tror fire vil gøre,” * Steve craned his neck as far as he could. There it was again! Who was he talking to on the phone in that gibberish?  

“Har du dem lige nu? Jeg har venner over.” * Marco paused as the person on the other end responded.  

“Ja det vil være fint. Fire af dem, og hvis du har kablerne til at gå med det jeg har brug for dem også.” *

“Tak. Jeg kommer forbi lageret i aften.” *

The back door to the store banged open loudly and Marco stepped out. He ran his fingers through his hair and tilted his face up to the sun. Moments like this and he looked perfectly normal, but then the conversation Steve had overheard came to mind and he remembered the objective. Marco sat down on the steps and lit a cigarette. The smell wafted over and Steve’s mouth watered. He hadn’t had a cigarette in months and the smell was almost too tempting. Steve stayed hidden behind his car the whole time Marco was out there but no other developments were discovered. As Marco stood and dusted his pants, Steve saw Dustin coming around the corner. He waved his hands trying to get the kid’s attention but Dustin didn’t notice until he was too close.  

“Hey, aren’t you the kid who was just inside talking to Robin?” Marco called out and Steve sunk down by the wheel of his car praying to whoever listened that he wouldn’t come any closer.  

“Uh...” Dustin froze.  

“Wait, you’re one of Steve’s friends too, right? You know both of them?” Marco’s voice was getting closer and Dustin’s eyes flashed to Steve before he walked around the car to keep Marco from coming any closer and discovering him.  

“Uh, yeah. Steve. Yeah he and I are buds. He’s how I met Robin, they used to work together at the ice cream place in the mall. He’s cool, though. Steve’s helped me a lot. He’s awesome.” Never before had Steve been so grateful for how easily Dustin can ramble.  

“Yeah, he seems cool, just kind of quiet.” Marco replied thoughtfully. “So what are you doing back here?”  

“Oh uh....” Steve closed his eyes and willed Dustin to be convincing. “I’m uh working on a school project and uh we have to use scraps and stuff so uh Robin told me I could look in the trash back here?” Dustin’s voice rose in tone at the end making him sound unsure but hopefully Marco didn’t notice.  

“Cool. Help yourself, man.” Footsteps started walking back toward the open door and Steve let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, kid, wait a second. What’s your name?”

“Who me?” Dustin’s voice cracked. Steve was going to have to work with him on keeping cool under pressure. Luckily Marco laughed.

“Yeah, kid, what’s your name?”

“Dustin. Dustin Henderson.”

“Well Dustin Henderson, I’m Marco since we haven’t officially met. I have these get togethers on Saturday nights at my house, just some cool people hanging out. There’s one tonight. If you’re interested you should stop by.” Steve’s jaw dropped and he almost leapt out from behind his car to swing on this creep!  

“Uh, yeah sure sounds good. Thanks!” Dustin sounded panicked and Steve closed his eyes again praying they make it through this.  

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight then maybe.” The back door banged shut and Dustin ran around Steve’s car.  

“DID YOU HEAR THAT?!” He shrieked and Steve shushed him and pulled Dustin down on the ground next to him.

“Yes I heard! The window is still open keep your voice down!” He growled and Dustin apologized. “Before you came around I heard him on the phone in his office, he was talking in that other language again. I recorded it so we can try and translate back at your house. But what the hell was he inviting you to? You have to go! Bring Lucas or Will with you, but you have to go and see what it is that he does!”  

“Are you crazy?! I’m not going to be bait!” Dustin was shrieking again and Steve jumped up, pulling him along and getting into the car.  

“You won’t be bait! We’ll be there with you. I’ll be down the street since I’m not invited to whatever freaky thing he’s got planned, but this is the best way to figure it out. Just go long enough to see what he’s up to and then you can come out and I’ll take you home. Deal?”

Dustin sighed and rolled his eyes. Steve smirked knowing he’d won.

“Deal. But you had better be there waiting for me to come out. I’m talking car running, door open, I jump in as you’re rolling by!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, everything will be fine.” Steve made his tone nonchalant. He wasn’t about to admit that he was just as nervous as Dustin.  

*No I think four will do

*Do you have them right now? I’m having some friends over

*Yeah that’s fine. Four of those and if you have the cables to go with it I need those too.

* Thanks. I’ll come by the warehouse tonight.

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

“So he’s asking about some kind of equipment that requires cables and he’s going to pick them up today maybe?” Dustin was pacing around his bedroom.  

It had taken over an hour for them to translate what Marco said during his phone call. Now that they had the one side of the conversation nothing made any more sense than before. Steve had finally convinced Dustin that going to this thing at Marco’s was going to be fine and they had two escape plans in place. Don’t let it be said that after getting stuck or kidnapped the third time that these two hadn’t learned something.  

“I have no idea what it means, but if he’s getting them today then maybe you’ll find out tonight?” Steve suggested as he was digging through Dustin’s closet. “Dude. Do you have anything with a collar?”  

“A collar? What? What do I need a collar for?”  

“To hide the wire, duh! That way we can stick the mic out the collar and hide it. You can record everything at the thing.” Steve kept pulling out shirts and checking them but Dustin let out a sigh and pushed him out of the way. He dug into the back of the closet and pulled out a hideously patterned short sleeved shirt, throwing it at Steve’s head.

“Will that work?” Dustin asked.  

“I mean, yeah if you’re doing a side job as a kid’s birthday clown!” Steve was cracking up but Dustin didn’t find it funny at all and just stared. “I’m joking. Kind of, but this thing is hideous dude. It’ll work, though.” He tossed the shirt back to Dustin who went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Steve was going to work on Dustin’s hair like he did for the last dance. The goal was to get him looking nice enough that no one would notice if he was hanging around Marco too much. Or if he had a microphone taped to his upper chest. Before tonight was over Steve wanted absolute proof that his boss was up to something shady because the more he saw and heard of him, the stranger things seemed.  

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

There were a few cars on the street outside of Marco’s house when Steve drove by with Dustin and Mike. Steve was surprised it was Mike that came and not Lucas, but Dustin said Mike was really into it when he told him what was going on. The number of cars didn’t match the mass of shadows that Steve saw behind the blinds, though.  

“Okay, you two know the plan?” Steve turned in his seat to see Dustin next to him and Will with his long legs spread in the back. They both nodded but Steve raised an eyebrow. Dustin rolled his eyes.  

“We go in, we see who’s there and what is going on. If we see anything that looks like a sacrifice or “special kool aid we leave immediately. If everything looks okay then we find Marco and we record what he says. We want to know what he’s doing and why it’s such a secret and what his master plan is.” Will recited back in a monotone.  

“Good. Okay, I’m going to be right out here so if anything happens you just yell out a door or a window or whatever and I’m coming in. I wish there was a way to have you guys take the walkie talkie.”

“Steve,” Dustin interrupted, “It’s too big. We talked about it and there’s no way. We’ll be okay.” He looked in the back and Mike nodded. Dustin nodded back. “Yeah. We’ll be okay. We’ll be out in a couple of hours with an update or to go home.”  

Steve watched them get out of the car and he rolled the windows down. He wished he could go in there with them, but it would have been too suspicious. Dustin seemed more confident so Steve should be too. When the boys got to the door and Marco opened it, Steve caught a glimpse of two girls just behind him, but then the door shut quickly. Now all he could do was wait.  

@athroatfullofglass @x-valhalla @westcoastselkie @hissouthernprincess @lol-haha-joke @ainatirb-j

[regular-lord-reckoner]

Alright so here’s what the fuck happened this time around 

First of all, the hospital itself sucks 

i really hate saying that because I know hospitals and everyone who works there gets shit, but I’ve had previous experience at this hospital and it was a Bad Time (aka the time they pulled a chest tube out of me without...giving me anything. No pain medicine, no nothin’. Not even a Tylenol or anything and it was...bad). 

But I figured hey, that was a few years ago and I’m sure things have probably changed since then but uh...nope! 

For starters, when I went in to registration they gave me my papers to take to Imaging and the lady told me where to go, but like...it’s a big hospital, it’s easy to get turned around and so when I was looking for where I needed to go one of the volunteers there offered to help, but when I handed them my papers all they saw was Quick Reg stamped on there so they took me over there and dropped my paper in this slot and told me to have a seat. (Mind you it said Quick Reg because it was the same paper from Friday when I came for pretesting, but that’s fine. I did say I was having lithotripsy so I figured they knew what they were doing.) 

But I’m sitting there thinking, “This isn’t right, they told me just to go to imaging...” but I thought someone would surely grab my papers and see the mistake and redirect us but we...sat there and sat there and sat there. 

Finally the volunteer came back around and went to check and was like, “This never happens, but there’s nobody back there, I’m not sure what’s going on,” so I tried to explain I didn’t even think I needed to be in quick registration but the volunteer insisted I wouldn’t be able to go any further until I did (plus my papers are now behind a locked door so I can’t just go get them) so I say okay and the volunteer manages to find someone and sure enough...guess who just needs to go to Imaging now!! 

So, I go there and hand my papers over and have a seat and a few minutes later someone comes to get me so they can do an X-Ray. 

They needed to see where the stone is so they know where to do the lithotripsy rather than just...aim blindly at my back or just shoot me all up and down my stent like...no thanks, so that’s fine.

But when I get finished with that they tell me to have a seat back out in the waiting room and then someone will come to get me so I’m like okay, cool. 

So we sit and sit and sit and finally my cell phone rings and I answer it and it’s...a nurse from surgery. Apparently they’ve been waiting on me. For like an hour by this point. So that’s cool. 

They get a volunteer to walk us down to where that’s at and so I get checked in there and get taken back pretty quickly. 

As soon as I get back there the nurse is handing me a cup to pee in so we can do a pregnancy test so I’m like okay cool, do that. 

But as soon as I come out the nurse is telling me there was something up with my urine when they last got a sample (on Friday) and I told her I was on my period then so maybe that was why? And she said maybe, so I go ahead and get my gown on and get in bed and shit but another nurse comes in and says my doctor wants to be sure it’s not something from the stone itself and in order to get a better sampling of my urine he wants them to do a catheter thing but like...they literally just let me go to the bathroom, I’m...empty. 

But I want this done so bad I say sure, let’s try, so both nurses take a turn sticking a catheter in me trying to get out any urine at all and there’s just...none 

(As a side note, one of these nurses when she was going over my history and whatnot sees that I’m taking Mestinon...I explain about having myasthenia... This lady asks me if it was just a “one time thing” and I’m like, “Well no...” ‘cause why would I still take medicine for it? I explain that I’ve had this since birth and she was like, “Oh, so you had all your vaccines and you get flu shots and everything? ‘Cause sometimes that can bring it about.” BITCH, WHAT???? SINCE FUCKING WHEN, SHOW ME ONE FUCKING ARTICLE THAT SAYS VACCINES CAUSE MYASTHENIA. SHOW ME. SHOW ME WHERE. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU’RE A GODDAMN NURSE??? Yeah. Wild. I’m very polite and nice the whole time but at this point I’m screaming in my head.) 

Eventually the doctor comes in and talks to me. Looking at the X-Ray it looks like the stone has dropped down to where he can’t really do anything with it with lithotripsy anyway, but especially with my questionable urine he says we won’t do it today so I just...y’know, burst into tears. 

He writes me a prescription for antibiotics so we can try to clear up any potential bullshit so that whenever he does get rid of this thing it doesn’t just blast shit into my system and make me real bad sick which I get it, I get he’s being cautious, I get we’re trying to do the right thing here by me and I understand but like...I’m so goddamn frustrated by this point. So utterly fucking done and over it all. 

The only good thing about today was that they hadn’t started an IV on me just yet. If I’d had that done and had to have it immediately taken out I would have probably cried the entire time out. Instead they left me alone for a few minutes and gave me a wet washcloth to wipe my face with and I settled down, but I had to fight the urge to start sobbing again the whole way out. 

And of course, my poor dad, bless his heart, has so much trouble breathing and this is a big hospital that it’s easy to get lost in so when they let me put my clothes back on and send me on my way we get turned around and he had to do so much walking I feel bad having to have him do that, but I didn’t have anyone else to take me. 

So now I’m home, I’ve got my antibiotics and the nurse just called to set up my next procedure. He’s going to try to do what he did the time before this and go in to get it out and hopefully with having had a stent in for this fucking long it might be easier this time? Idk? If it didn’t work last time I’m not sure how it’ll work this time and I have zero faith by this point anything’s going to work, they’ll probably have to just go in through my back and get it out that way but like...fuckin’ fine, I don’t care anymore. I’m just done. I’m utterly, utterly fucking done. 

Oh, and naturally my mom’s off Monday and Tuesday and would have been free to take me but nooooo, the only thing they have for next week is Thursday!! Of course!!! Of course it’s fucking Thursday!! And I asked if I could at least go back to the other hospital because I like it better, but I guess the scopes at the shitty hospital are what the doctor prefers so like...fine. I’ll deal with their incompetent asses again if it’ll raise my chances of getting this fucking stone taken out of me. 

So yeah. That’s my luck, baby!! This shit kicked off back in March, really, and it’s fucking May now and not only did I get another fucking X-Ray today but I took time off work and I dunno what else I’ll be billed for today but probably something!! 

And naturally I came home to have another bill waiting on me, so that’s neat!! LOVE that for me!! 

And I hate to be so negative and put out because I’ve tried so fucking hard to pull myself out of this fucking rut I’ve been in for...months because I wanted this to work so bad and I was so optimistic and trying my best and this absolutely just slam dunked me into the floor, through the ground, and I really just want to cry some more. 

I know this is all in my best interest and I get it, I do, so I’m not trying to blame anyone or say anyone’s done anything wrong (although today was just...a cluster fuck because this hospital seriously has no idea what it’s doing at any given time) but at this point it just feels like I’m being punished for something on a cosmic level. Probably for being a bitch, Idk. 

And the really shitty part is literally all I want to do right now is just get high and relax but I’m still waiting to hear about this summer employment thing at my previous job and since I dunno if they’re gonna drug test me or not I probably shouldn’t throw away three weeks now of not having any of that good green stuff in my system so I’m just like...great. Super great. Love having to be fully present for how I feel right now. 

I guess I’ll just cry a little more, paint my nails, and maybe do a face mask and just try to distract myself with shit. I wish I had something positive to end this on because I hate just bitching and moaning about shit but I don’t really have it in me right now. 

I just hope if you’re reading this you’re having a better day than I am. <3

[lovelyfictional-imagines]

Me and You. (Twelfth Doctor x Reader)

This is my first explicit songfic, meaning it actually involves the song. Well, mostly. I had the idea while driving home this morning, and Twelve is currently the rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. Often I’ll be listening to the playlist I’ve put together for the Doctor, and I crave to write more songfics. Please let me know if you enjoyed this, if I did this right. I’m still extremely new to this.

The numbers 1-5 are different scenarios, I’ve read a lot of stories in this format and absolutely loved them, and will probably have more like this in the future. I’m better with many shorter stories. 

I swear there’ll be others, I actually have a Ten fic in the works right now. 

This was also written in maybe two sittings, so I do apologize if it’s inconsistent or not as well written. I’ll be back to edit it a few more times, I’m sure. 

Until next fic,

- Ashley

Song: Me and You by Jake Bugg

Word Count: 2697

All the time people follow us where we go We both should believe the path that we chose And I'll hold you with such delicacy No they won't catch you and me

 1.

He’d found her outside a strip mall, smoking. She was bleak, bleary, obviously having been beaten down by life thus far as she slouched against a metallic picnic table. The circles beneath her eyes were so dark they could’ve easily been mistaken for bruises.

“Did you know smoking is terrible for you?”

And suddenly he was there.

“Did you know I don’t give a shit?”

“Language! Good god, everyone here is so vulgar.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there. Apologies, then, it’s just been one of those days.”

“Looks more like one of those weeks in your case.”

A light glare was sent his way before she took another drag. Dropping it, she shrugged and scrambled on the table for it.

“You’re not wrong there, either.”

“What if I said I could take you away from all this and have you back in time for your shift?”

(E/C) irises swimming with uncertainty snapped in his direction, dropping her cigarette again, this time onto the pavement, in shock. She looked terribly unsure of him, and he couldn’t blame her. Here he was, a complete stranger, asking an exhausted looking young woman if she’d like him to take her away. “I’d say you’re mad. Unless you have some sort of funny time machine.”

“Don’t believe me, eh? Keep that thought in mind. Come with me.”

“Ah, that’s not suspicious now, is it? Older man coercing a young, vulnerable woman to follow him somewhere?”

He’d already leapt up and over the bench they’d been sitting on, striding off down the sidewalk.

“What’s your name anyway?” The cashier called.

“The Doctor. Coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed in annoyance. Nevertheless, she followed him with a small smile on her face that managed to light up the rest of it. The confidence in his walk was a bit exaggerated, though she seemed to be so ecstatic that she didn’t seem to notice or care. A familiar blue police box came into view, and he approached it, tapping it with a certain fondness. Confusion spread over her worn down face.

“Now this really is concerning, I believe I should’ve been more careful from the start.”

“Oh calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Have a look.”

Skeptically, she stepped forward, pushing the door open reluctantly. Moving inside, he heard a loud cry of shock, something along the lines of it being “bigger on the inside”. The Doctor chuckled to himself.

“Hasn’t gotten old yet.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 2.

Here they were, on a busy street on the edge of London. (Y/N) sat behind the wheel of her ancient canary-colored car, chewing her lip in anticipation. The Doctor sat adjacent to her, leaned back casually. His foot tapped impatiently, position slightly shifting every few seconds. Tension was thick in the dusty air.

“Well?”

“I said I thought I could drive. Don’t actually know if I can. Haven’t had much of a chance to.”

“Anyone can drive, it’s elementary. You’re just not.”

A glare was shot in his direction, causing him to snort. It was a mirror image of his, contorting her lovely face. He grinned knowing that he’d grown on her as much as she’d grown on him. Stuck to him, he’d often tell himself, knowing it was absolute rubbish.

“Come on, you can do it. If a moron can do it, so can you.”

A small fist flew across the front seat, shoving him playfully.

“Shut it, Doctor. I’m trying to drive now, and it could be detrimental to both of us if I’m irritated.”

The Doctor chuckled, watching her aggravated face behind his dark glasses. A small smile attempted to break her glowering countenance. At last it was triumphant, a shy, cheeky expression that he’d only seen directed at him. Gentle dustings of pink swept across her cheeks.

“Let’s go.”

Speeding along after some difficulty merging into traffic, they were silent. The Doctor had yelled at her and the other driver simultaneously. Refusing to argue and attempt to remain at a reasonable speed concurrently, (Y/N)’s face burned. All she could do is grumble beneath her breath and continue on until they were far out of the city, bumbling along the countryside in her yellow car.

“You know,” he began, voice softer than before. An attempt to wordlessly apologize for his previous action. “I once had a car of my own, quite a bit like this one, too. Same color, not as junky. I took great pride in it.”

(Y/N) laughed loudly, apparently thinking it a joke. Feeling quite indignant, he puffed up a bit at her chortles. “I did! Years and years ago when I wore a different face.”

“I’m sure you could actually drive it, hm?”

“You’d be surprised at the many things I can do, (Y/N). Driving happens to be one of them.”

“How about smiling more?”

At this he gave her the most obnoxious leer he could muster, emitting a loud, obviously fake, snicker. Once again she giggled uncontrollably at his antics, and he found himself easing into a comfortable titter. Then they grew still again, though it was a comfortable quiet. Looking over to his companion, her concentrated and radiant disposition filling the automobile, the Doctor found a sense of pride filling him at the human he’d stumbled upon.

 There are too many flashes and guards around me There is so little time and places to see And we can wait so patiently No, they won't catch you and me

 3.

Throughout every danger they’d faced together so far, the Doctor had never hesitated when he placed himself between it and his companion. Devotion made itself apparent not only in times of crisis, but moreso in the calmer moments, in the TARDIS. Anytime she’d needed help, even if it were reaching a shelf she’d have to scale in attempt to find whatever she was after. In moments of silence, when both were on opposite sides of the ship, he’d seek her out.

For months he fought it, refusing to go to her as often as he could. Why allow himself this? He’d been well-behaved, keeping his cool. Resisting would be a better word to describe his approach to his current feelings.

Feelings that had begun to extend, budding from their companionship in sarcasm and loneliness to something more... romantic, to his complete and utter trepidation. In those moments in the TARDIS, when there was something more in her eyes, something warm and inviting, his self-control was put to the ultimate test.

Seeing that silent plea, combined with the comforting heat of her room and the conflict in his hearts, caused him to shut himself off again. To push all of those vulnerabilities back into that metaphorical locked room he’d set aside with the label ‘too dangerous’. Too good, he often thought. Too whole for a broken man like him.

Whisking her across the galaxy to see things most humans wouldn’t ever be able to dream of brought him close to the breaking point every time. The astonishment across her soft features, the curiosity in her eyes, the mischievous curve of her lips. Knowing the unfiltered joy and wonder that filled her heart and mind was almost too much for him to bear. But it was worth it every time, anything was worth even a glance in his direction.

The Doctor felt like a lost dog, clinging to her and anything she was willing to give him emotionally. Any of her stories, recollections of her life before him, even the most mundane little quips, left him hanging on every word. Absorbing all of her voiced thoughts, debating with her, even flat out arguing with her, brought him closer. And it seemed to draw her closer, because the next time there would be more, even if an adjective or verb more, she’d oblige him.

He would wait. The Doctor could and would and probably had waited hundreds of lifetimes for something like he’d found in (Y/N). Different and similar to connections he’s made before, but unique all to herself.

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you

 4.

Often he’d catch (Y/N) eyeing him not-so-discreetly as she propped herself up in various odd positions on whatever she could fit on. Not that he minded, not at all. As long as they’d been traveling together now, it felt like part of their daily routine. Dancing around each other and their affections in some kind of clumsy ballet, too afraid to step independently but too brave to stray far from what they’ve learned.

The Doctor knew in his hearts of hearts that he’d never initiate. Never would he overstep that line, the invisible boundary that had been drawn around their relationship. He, who would go headfirst into unknown territory without a second thought, was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified at the potential mistake he could make. Another mistake in his existence that he wasn’t sure if he was willing to make.

So when their brief touches began to last more than a few seconds, when their eyes would meet and lock instead of darting away, he found peace in an internal resolution. He would lay in wait, wait until it was too much for her. She was so wonderfully human, trying to follow her mind but being driven by her passionate, whimsical heart. Any feelings she had towards him would emerge sooner or later, and if she chose to act on them.... he wouldn’t mind. Not at all.

Until then, their hands would intertwine, hugs would become less uncomfortable on his part, and faces would draw nearer for longer before they turn away. As long as he was near her, he wouldn’t quite mind the wait.

 All of these people want us to fail I won't let that happen no Just you believe me I'll hide you discreetly Discreetly from this cold world

 5.

Earth had been a cruel and unforgiving place for his young companion in her life prior to their meeting. Once he’d found her in tears, reflecting over a picture she’d dropped, (Y/N) poured out her heartaches on him. Before they’d met he would’ve run far when arms extended towards him, but now he hesitantly scooped her to him, trying to comfort her in any way.

The jobs she’d had barely made ends meet. When they met that day, almost an entire year ago, she’d been on her lunch break without anything to eat in sight. Sunken eyes had only reflected dull pain back at him. Only a smoke and a conversation, him sensing her desire to actually live and offering an out. He’d proved her wrong, and she hadn’t ever expressed the desire to go back. Not that he could blame her.

Unable to explain what troubled her, she left him with something he understood too well.

“I’ve done too many things, haven’t tried enough or tried too hard. And sometimes it smacks me right in the face.”

As she leaned into him, tears slowly beginning to dry, the Doctor felt his own pain. He’d spent centuries working through indescribable horrors of his own, still taking time even now to attempt to process them. Shadows of friends and foes crept behind him, always waiting. It was torture, almost, to know that this dependable, wonderful person he’d come to know was treated so terribly in her life before that she’d been willing to try any way to escape at the drop of a cigarette butt.

(Y/N) moved back to study his face. Watching with equal scrutiny, the Doctor observed her puffy (E/C) eyes, trembling (S/C) chin, and pouty chapped lips. That dreaded feeling blossomed in his chest at the misty abundance of affection in her features, even as her own emotional ailments afflicted her. During her own personal calamity, she still found ways to put him at ease with a silent affirmation of how much faith she had in him. That somehow he’d make things right, even if for a little while.

Even as she was completely blue, that terrifyingly airy feeling knocked the wind out of him. Realization poured through, filling any cracks of doubt that had previously served as an intentional protective barrier. It was true, true and real and paralyzing. Quickly he brought her back against his chest.

“Whatever you’ve done before doesn’t matter, it is what you choose to do now that does. And whatever you do, you will have a friend at your back. I swear it.”

Weak arms slithered around his waist, feeling her head caress his chest.

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”

Slowly he released her, and she stepped back and attempted to clean her face a bit. Feeling out of place, unsure of what to do, the Doctor remained where he stood until she initiated anything. Sentimentality was obviously not this body’s strong suit, though he wished to give more.

Her hand taking his own seemed to draw him from the recesses of his inner dialogue. A sweet smile was sent his way, brightening her rosy face. Making a mental note of how she looked at that particular time, he almost forgot what he intended to say. The Doctor sighed deeply, not entirely partial to the rush of solicitude through his veins that came with it. An easygoing smile finally planted itself on his thin mouth.

“Whatever it is, (Y/N), be it external or internal, I’ll support you to the best of my abilities. You have my word.”

Before he could properly appreciate the moment they were having, she was back. Swinging back into her heels, bouncing up on her toes, she hummed. Girlish excitement restored, determination to take on the universe and more.

“How about we find some adventure, eh?”

Returning to the noise, prepared to put their problems away for another day. The Doctor laughed at her spirit, glad to know she was bouncing back. Part of him knew she understood, at least somewhat, that he was trying his best.

“You’ve got moxie, I’ll give you that.”

“If we don’t start moving, I’ll give you a swift kick in the—“

Raising an owlish brow at her, she laughed out loud.

“C’mon Doctor, let’s go.”

“Alright, pottymouth.”

(Y/N) exited her room, the Doctor examining her as she left. Stretching his arms up and out, he rested his hands on the back of his head and exhaled loudly.

“What am I going to do with you, you peculiar girl?”

Following at his own pace, he trudged down the hall. The console room was a bit brighter; his companion was waiting patiently for him, plopped in yet another uncomfortable-looking position one set of steps. He approached her, standing near the command center, pressing buttons and pulling levers. “Where to?”

In her eyes he saw the entirety of the universe and its marvels, entirely awestruck by the impish expression she’d donned. Knowing the hunger for travel, for exploration, for knowledge, that she’d found within herself all too well, he was prepared to take her wherever her heart desired. To show her whatever would make her smile. The Doctor was completely at her mercy, on his knees to bring her joy.

“Anywhere.”

The TARDIS was off, rumbling and whirring like she always did. (Y/N) laughed out loud, watching the core with her refreshed fascination, burning brighter than the sun itself. The Doctor chuckled along with her, finding the answer to his self-imposed question that he had known all along.

“Everything.”

 It's all over all of the time And if you want to, I won't mind Please don't leave it I don't know what to do No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you No they won't catch me and you

[jaggedheartstrings]

Hope To See You Again || Chapter 3

Read it on AO3.

Summary:

Natasha Antonia Stark was a thriving scientist in the 1940's. Alongside her brother, Howard, they build a whole world of technology and science for themselves.

Up until a fatal night in 1947.

She was announced dead in 1949.

* * *

Toni wasn’t going anywhere with him as long as she had anything to do about it.

“I was hoping to do this the easier way, but the best ones do put up the best fight at first, don’t they?”

It was the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her.

Chapter 3:

1948, New York, Hydra Base

The heels clicked on the floor of the cold and barren looking base. The woman was carrying a file, important, need-to-know information she had to take to her superiors. She had been warned quite brutally to not look in the file or risk facing a bullet in her skull- though she was almost sure about what the file was about. Everything regarding the Companion was almost all she knew. The woman had studied and listened, learned everything there was to know about the young woman they had taken. She wished to help her, but she had to worry about other people first, before even giving her a thought.

She knocked on the door and stepped inside when one of the guards opened it.

“Ah, Mrs. Winfrell, I was waiting on your arrival.” The man sitting behind the table told her. It was a rare occurrence to not see him ranting on about. “I hope you have what I wanted. Or have those fools once again failed me?”

“Uh, no, sir.” She gulped and breathed deeply. “Here, if you will take it.” She handed the file and the dark-haired man nodded once.

“Thank you, Mrs. Winfrell.” He pondered for a moment. “I got word from Moscow. They’re ready to move the Companion. I was hoping that you’d go with them. I believe you are in place of a raise.”

“Sir?” She questioned. The woman hoped it was not what she thought it would be.

“I want you there. Help the Companion settle. The Doctor was asking for you to be at his side when Phase Three was green light.” He rubbed his hands together. “The Companion has been given green light a week ago, but seeing as you were not here, he wished not to start it yet. They’ve kept her under heavy sedation until then, so she won’t know of a break from her training.”

“I- of course.” She nodded at him and started to turn towards the door, before coming to other thoughts and turning back towards the base leader. “Are we leaving, when exactly?”

The leader smiled at her, “Tomorrow morning. I suggest you pack your bags and tell your family goodbye for a while. I don’t know if the Companion will be coming back to America at all.”

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” She smiled in a hopefully convincing way. This was far from what she wanted, but she knew better than to turn it down. She hurried out the door and towards her chambers, cursing everything to hell inside her head. She wished to stay as far from the Companion as possible. She knew she was attached to her. It. Goddammit. She needed to get her head straight.

~ Read more under the cut ~

* * *

1948, Moscow, Hydra Main Base

Toni walked quietly besides the Doctor. She didn’t know where she was. They’d gotten on a plane back in New York and she hadn’t known where it was heading to. All she knew was that it had taken a long time and she was immensely tired. She couldn’t sleep on the plane. Her nervousness was basically jumping off the walls. Despite her being ready for Phase Three, she knew she couldn’t trust these people and had to get away. The problem was she didn’t know where she was. And she was sure she wasn’t in America anymore.

They had driven in a windowless (or at least the part of the car she was in was windowless) car for hours. Until they had stopped, and she was stabbed once again with a needle, soon falling asleep. And now she was here, a bustling base- surprise, surprise- though lacking in furniture and full of colourless concrete walls. She was being escorted by the Doctor and three guards- they didn’t trust her at all, did they? It wasn’t long since coming inside that they came across the elevator (-ish?) machine. They went down at least nine levels before stopping, the rattling cage quieting down and stopping with a screech. Two sets of doors opened and a long corridor with steps leading up to a higher point. She was directed to the left, through a metal door to a corridor of doors. Then into a metallic door on the right side of the room. It was the third door, labeled товарищ/Aссистент (Companion/Assistant).

She walked in, but the Doctor nor any of the guards followed her. She turned and looked at them. “You should rest. Phase Three will start tomorrow morning. After you complete Phase Three, I’ll take care of you.” His smile made her believe that “taking care of her” would be not any caretaking she was familiar with.

“And my… handler, was it?” She questioned. She wasn’t sure what Phase Three would be, but a handler didn’t sound right in her ears. She needed to get out and she needed to be out yesterday.

“Apparently that task lies now on my shoulders.” He simply said, not bothering to elaborate. It only made her feel worse about tomorrow and whatever horrors she might face. The Doctor nodded once and one of the guards- she now realized they were for the Doctor- slammed the metal door closed. She heard a clank and assumed that meant it was locked now. She didn’t hear any echo of steps, but she hadn’t expected to.

The room followed the same style as the rest of the base. Bare and made complete of concrete, even the floor, and very, very cold. There was a bed- if you could call it that- in one of the corners. And a wardrobe next to the door. Curiously she opened the wardrobe door and found it empty, except for one grey-greenish blanket. The texture was rough and uncomfortable, Toni couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the material. Where they got all this unbearably uncomfortable items, she had no clue.

She took the blanket- well, more like sandpaper- and took it to the bed-like thing. It didn’t have a pillow or any sheets, but she guessed she could make do. Better than the floor anyway, right? She looked around in the dull room once again, this time noticing the camera in one of the corners- of course, why would there not be a camera. She huffed in irritation. Fuckers wouldn’t trust her to not do anything. She had to give it to them, they were quite smart about the whole situation so far. Toni had no idea where she was and how to get out. There were guards and scientists around every corner and crevice.

She realized with a start that she didn’t even know how long she had been captured for- Howard. Oh, dear God, poor Howard. Not only had he lost one of his good friends in the war, he’d also lost Steve and now his sister. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. Howard barely knew how to live before everything went to shit, how would he fare now? She knew he wasn’t hopeless, and he was almost as smart as her, but Toni couldn’t help but worry for her brother. Being intelligent and smart didn’t mean either of them knew how to take care of themselves. Taking a deep calming breath, she sat on the edge of the bed and dropped her head in her hands.

This was really happening.

 * * *

The next morning came bright and early. The woman dressed in a black dress- as she always was- walked towards the room of the young woman. Stark was sitting on the bed, lost in her thoughts. The woman nodded to the guards and they opened the door for her. As she slipped in, she also slipped on her mask, a cool expression hiding everything she felt. Once the door was closed, Stark’s head rose, slowly.

The woman tightened her grip on the file and finally looked into Star- the Companion’s eyes. And it was almost like she forgot how to breathe. An exact match to her six-year-old daughter’s eyes. The same shade of brown, though her daughter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree whereas the other pair looked dull and pained.

“Товарищ.” The woman addressed her- it- by its new name. The young woman tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. And it suddenly hit her. She wouldn’t know Russian. She wasn’t even near Phase 5. But her direct orders were to only talk to her in Russian. “Вы следовать мной.”

Despite not knowing the language, the Companion could obviously guess what she meant. The Doctor had informed her of the happenings that would take place in the morning after all. St- It rose from the bed and stepped closer to the woman. “Стоп!” The dark dressed woman shouted in almost panic. Stark stopped immediately. “Вы следовать мной но остаетесь запредохранителями. Не придите около меня, ребенка.” (You will follow me but stay behind the guards. Do not come near me, child.) Momentarily forgetting that all of that would go over her head, the woman turned to leave expecting her to follow. When no such thing happened, anger and fear surged through the woman. “Follow.” She ordered in perfect English. The young woman followed her, sluggishly but followed, nonetheless.

They walked through the corridors and the closer they got, the more afraid the woman became. She knew what would happen next, knew her to lose all her memories. Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed open the doors leading to the chair. The large open room was filled with machinery, advanced and old mixed together to create a terrifying chair in the middle of the room. The woman turned towards the Doctor and flicked her hand towards the guards, who immediately complying took hold of Stark.

“Господин, я принес ее.” (Sir, I brought her) At her words the Doctor turned, a menacing grin finding its place on his face. He effortlessly glided towards the young woman held by her arms. Stark hadn’t yet lost her fire, as she glared into his eyes, defiance clear.

“Ah, my дорогой, welcome to your new second home.” He grinned at her, baring his teeth. His hand caressed her cheek and she trashed in the hold of the guards. He took hold of her neck and bend down to her face. “See that?” He pointed towards the Chair. Stark’s eyes flicked to the Chair and back to his face. “It’s one of my innovations actually. It’s unfairly efficient. We’ll keep you in it for 30 minutes, then talk a little. After that an hour. Slowly increasing it, until you learn what we want you to learn. Don’t worry, we have all day and night all to ourselves. Asset is currently enjoying some well-earned sleep.”

The woman saw Stark’s eyes open wide with fear. “What does it do? The Chair?” The Doctor suddenly erupted in a high pitched, hyena like laughter. The woman couldn’t help but cringe.

“You’ll find out soon enough, моя марионетка.” He flicked his hand and without a word the guards dragged the trashing young woman into the Chair. They put her in the chair and held her still as the various doctors and technicians worked to strap her in. The Doctor looked annoyed at the resistance. “My darling, I thought you trusted me with your worthless self.”

“I trust you with nothing!” Stark yelled as she trashed in the chair. “You do this, and nothing will stop me from tearing you all apart once I get free!” She fiercely spat the words towards the Doctor and in a split second he was moving. Next the woman knew the Doctor was seething above the girl, his hand still raised, her cheek coloured with a hand print.

“Worked yourself some courage and defiance over the night, didn’t you?” He seethed into her face while holding her chin in a harsh grip. “I guess I shouldn’t have left you that carelessly all alone with your pretty little head.” He threw her face to the side and pulled himself upright, turned and stomped all the way up to the platform where the control panel was. “I want this over with and I want it now! Start Phase Three.”

“Но нет попирание плохая черта, которыйнужно выйти под обработку?” (But isn’t defiance a bad trait to be left under the treatment?) The woman asked with curiosity.

“Я делал все я могу разрушить ее попирание. Если это не делает его, то мы не имеемникакую пользу для ее.” (I have done all I can to destroy her defiance. If this doesn’t work, we have no use for her.) The Doctor grits out and motions for the man handling the controls to start. His fingers fly on the buttons and soon the spiky straps that lead the electricity cover her forearms and place themselves around her head. Another doctor puts a biting strap into her mouth and then the screams start as electricity pushes itself around her fragile body.

As thirty minutes pass, it all stops, and the Doctor simply asks Stark who she is and what is her purpose.

When she answers incorrectly, the Doctor furiously slaps her and slides a knife up her arm, making it bleed.

“Вы товарищ, ваш полет помочь имуществу ипозволить гидре контролировать вас. Выответите: Подготавливайте для того чтобыисполнить и сделайте все и все мы говорим, что вы делаете. Отсутствие спрошенныхвопросов!” (You are the Companion; your mission is to assist the Asset and allow Hydra to control you. You will answer: Ready to comply and do everything and all we tell you to do. No questions asked!)

It continues the same way until almost twelve hours later, she- it says the right thing.

“Подготавливайте для того чтобы исполнить.” (Ready to comply.)

And the Companion is born.

[arisalty]

All My Life I’ve Been so Lonely

(Quick A/N, I would like to say thanks to my beta reader Elbie. This is my first time actually completing a fic for the Sanders Sides fandom but it is also the first time I’ve EVER tried writing angst. So... yeah. Also, it’s a Soulmate AU)

(Also I asked the Powerless discord what names for the dogs with no context except a young Patton named them and received an “Aww” in reactions *cough Moon and Dallas*. If only they knew.)

Pairing: Logicality, platonic Prinxiety, platonic Analogince (kinda???)

AO3

Tw: Major Character Death, Car Accident, Bullying, discriminatory language/slurs

Logan had always left little messages from when he was a child and always received little ones back. When he was younger, little doodles like smiley faces, geometric shapes and simple words like “hello” and “How are you?”. As he grew, they turned into late night conversations, maths workings for the other and secret codes made and lost in memories.

He met Patton when he was 7, their parents working together to set up a surprise meeting for Patton’s birthday.

They were best friends, constantly talking. Patton brought out the boldness behind the quiet mask of shyness Logan constantly had, and Logan influenced Patton by enhancing his curiosity by the occasional ramble about something really cool, like the stars.

They had so much in common, but also so many things different between them. They were a perfect match together, bringing out the best parts of both. It was to be expected, they were soulmates, but not all soulmates start off with such a good connection.

They did everything they could together- birthday parties, vacations, Christmases; they were basically joined at the hip.

Logan wished he could say he couldn't remember anything from the 18th of November, but if there was one thing Patton had drilled into his mind, it was that lies were bad and that lies could destroy the world if someone used them right.

And so once again the memory was dragged up as he sat alone.

The day started out with him rising to find a little message in cyan scrawled on the inside of his wrist; “Good morning, Lo! Meet at the park like usual? :)”

Logan grabbed his blue ballpoint pen and wrote back a quick “Of course, Patton”.

Logan got out of bed, showered, dressed, ate (he had eggs on toast), grabbed his school bag and left for school. He met Patton at the corner of the park like usual and got into registration with plenty of time before school started.

Math was first- they revisited the area of shapes that day- then geography (it was a pop quiz), break, Science and English (then lunch, like usual) before finishing the day with cooking.

Cooking was always a fun lesson, due to their class being, well, children, and cooking such things as pizza and banana bread and kebabs. Powdered sugar often coated most surfaces, which oddly never happened when a member of staff was present, only when their back was turned, and Logan was not even going to get started about the time they were able to use barbecue sauce.

But Logan took an extra club after school- further maths, because-- cmon, it’s not that weird to like maths, is it?

But either way, Logan stayed back an hour after school while Patton got a ride home.

Logan was about halfway through the time there (their current project was about using Excel mathematically) when he received a message on his arm in Patton's mother, Tracy’s handwriting;

𝐿𝑜𝑔𝒶𝓃,

𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃… 𝒫𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓃’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎.

𝐻𝑒’𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝒾𝓇- 𝐼’𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓃’𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓊𝓅.

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒷 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈.

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓎

Logan felt his hand clench on the piece of paper he was holding. Muffled noises of other students, almost mechanical movement as he picked up his bag, with a jumbled and confusing talk with the teacher and rushed down to the office where Alan was already waiting, having signed Logan out already.

The car ride was almost silent except a quiet “What happened?” from Logan.

Alan took a deep breath, eyes trained on the road.

“He had taken Spot and Buddy out for a walk to pass the time before you came home. You know how restless he can get. And apparently, Buddy broke into a run and ran into the road, and Patton followed to pick him back up to move him onto the pavement, and that’s when the car… Well, you’re a smart boy, Logan. You can work it out.”

Silence fell over the car until they reached the hospital.

Once they reached the right area, they found Tracy sat outside, the woman wiping away a stray tear.

“The doctors are with him now. They’ve already found at least 2 broken ribs and a broken leg, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” her voice dropped as she tried to calm a stuttering breath. “They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to make it.”

Logan sat slowly, shock leaving him with no words, and he found that it was probably for the best that he remained without speaking.

His best friend, his soulmate was dying. He should’ve been there. It was his fault. He should’ve been there. Patton wouldn’t have been restless. He could’ve warned Patton. He us shouldn’t have taken the club.

The doctors came out about half an hour later, and one of Logan’s moms had arrived. The talked in hushed voices to Alan, but everyone could see the drop in his face, the sadness dragging the corners of his lips downwards. Logan was curled into a ball on his mother’s lap, not sobbing, but occasionally another tear would silently follow the glistening path of many that preceded it.

As a face fell, as did the hopes and feelings. Everyone seemed to huddle together more, and Logan choked back a sob, only for it to escape quietly from his mouth, the rest of his breath shaky. Tracy was wiping away tears of her own, leaning into Alan who had moved to embrace his wife. Logan’s mom, Cassie, was wrapped around Logan protectively, rocking gently as she stroked Logan's head.

It was from that moment that Logan was drawing himself back into his shell of shyness and fear.

His once dramatic self he had found with Patton almost completely disappeared.

He moved away not much longer; he couldn’t bear the memories that surrounded the town. Everything reminded him of Patton.

Buddy had been put down after he also got hit by the car, but Spot was given to him to look after.

In the new school he was at, Logan didn’t really make any friends, but one group, the more weird ones and the nerds took him in. But he refused to talk about soulmates. And the closest ones never asked.

However, being a quiet nerd with two moms around the age of 14 would never work out well.

“Oh look, it’s the nerd with the fags for moms!” The boys surrounding him laughed along with his friend.

“Leave me alone,” came a quiet reply.

“Oh I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, but I bet your about to burst into tears.”

“Ooooh, do we need to call mommy to kiss your pride better?”

Logan pressed his eyes closed, trying to ignore the discriminatory idiots around him.

“I feel sorry for your soulmate,” another one went on. “I would want to die if I got someone like you.”

Logan clenched his fist, trying to keep his calm.

“I bet he doesn’t even have a soulmate.”

And then Logan snapped.

“What do you know? You haven’t ever... ever had the chance to get close to your soulmate to have him ripped away from you! You’ve not been through the pain I have. You will never care about those around you. You only care for yourselves. You only care to make yourselves better than others. Well, newsflash, you aren’t, and you will never, ever, in the rest of your lives be better than anyone.”

The group were shocked silent briefly as the boy in front of them was known for not ever retaliating to jibes, but then the head of the group, Samuel Matthews, spoke up.

“Him? So not only were you raised by fags, but you are a faggot yourself? Ha!”

The other boys took this as newfound ammunition, crowding around, enclosing him against the fence where he was sat.

“Just… leave me alone.”

“As if, Fa-“

“Finish that insult and I will not hesitate to punch you.” Logan looked up quickly to see that a taller, older kid had dragged Matthews back by the scruff of his clothes.

“Leave the kid alone, you foul creatures!” Roman Hartley stood the the side, arms on his hips as he glared at the bullies.

“You heard him, fuckers. Go!” The taller, lankier kid glared from underneath his bangs.

The bullies stood their ground, until Matthews muttered a quick “c’mon. We aren’t gonna beat this.”

Once the bullies were gone, Virgil went and seated himself next to Logan, holding out a hand.

“Virgil Evans, sorry you had to go through that. They’re real dicks. Oh, and this is my friend, Roman Hartley, but you probably already know that. He has a habit to broadcast himself.”

“Rude.”

Logan was aware that they were a good two years older, and that most of the time, same years stuck together and didn’t mix with lower or higher ones.

“C’mon bud, let’s go get you a snack.”

Virgil slung his arm over Logan’s shoulder, guiding him to stand up and move towards the hall and canteen. Roman cracked a joke, and Logan let himself share a tiny grin with the two.

Yes, Logan still felt broken after 3 years of Patton being gone, but Logan could be fixed, he just needed the right people.

[whentommymetalfie]

Gun in my hand, chapter five 

A/N: I. Am. A. Pile. Of. Mush. That’s all. Oh, and also, this is the last chapter, but there’ll be a oneshot epilogue/sequel to deal with more of the fall out. Now. that’s all. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter summary: Tommy is left to deal with the aftermath. 

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Warnings: Descriptions of insomnia/sleep deprivation and injury. Discussions and thoughts about death. 

Wordcount: 7100. (I KNOW!!! WHAT???) 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313621/chapters/35168402

Tommy is still surrounded by darkness. He thought he’d finally escaped, but now he’s drowning in it again. It fills his mouth and lungs like ice cold water- There are hands everywhere, tearing at him, hurting him, and he can’t hide from them.

He wakes up at the sound of someone screaming.

“Shh, it’s okay Tom, calm down.” Gentle hands grab his shoulders, holding him down and Tommy thrashes against them. “You’re going to hurt yourself. It’s just me. Just Arthur.”

He opens his eyes, convinced he’ll see nothing but the dark interiors of the cellar again, and blinks dazedly as the brightness in the room stings his eyes.

He’s lying in a bed, and Arthur is seated on the edge of it. Tommy scrambles to get his mind working. Why is he here? Blurry memories are resurfacing, disjointed and fragmented… Alfie lying on the warehouse floor, bleeding out in his arms. The ride to the hospital. Pacing the corridor as they rushed Alfie off to surgery.

Alfie.

“Where’s Alfie?” he rasps out, the words tearing a rattling cough from his lungs. Arthur holds a glass of water to his mouth, and the cool liquid soothes his burning throat. A shadow comes over Arthur's face.

“Tommy…”

“Where is Alfie?” he repeats, sitting up despite the pain that shoots through his ribcage.

Arthur’s answer comes after far too long. “He’s… resting.”

“But he’ll be okay? He’s… he’s just resting?” Tommy isn’t sure if this is a question or something he tries to state to himself. The delay in Arthur’s response causes his heart to sink in his chest.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. The bullet didn’t hit any internal organs but…” Arthur runs a hand over his mouth. “They say that if he wakes up from the anesthesia he’s got a fighting chance. But it’s hard to tell. Until he does.”

If he wakes up. Cold sweat breaks out over his entire body as he fights the nausea that overwhelms him. If he wakes up. You’re going to lose him. And it’s your fault…  

The voices have followed him from the cellar.

“I need to see him,” Tommy says in an attempt to drown them out. Clutching his bandaged chest, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Arthur catches him gently by the arms.

“You need to stay in bed.” He tries to guide Tommy back down onto the mattress. “Can’t have you passing out again. You’ve got enough bruises already.”

A vague memory flutters by in his mind: wandering back and forth in the hallway, looking down at his blood soaked hands as he ignored every concerned nurse trying to get him to lie down. The blood is gone now, and his hands are wrapped in gauze. Did he injure them somehow? He can’t remember.  

It's not important

Completely ignoring his older brother’s protests, Tommy gets out of bed on unsteady feet. The second his feet touch the cold stone, he nearly crumples to the floor as the pain makes his vision go white. It’s as if his entire body has been crushed and is held together by just a few remaining tendrils of bone.

Arthur’s arms are around him again, but this time they just hold him upright. Tommy leans into the touch.

“Easy there, Tom. Not really in shape to be walking around, I think. Pretty sure you bashed your head a bit when you fainted.”

“I have to-“

Arthur nods and lets out a defeated sigh. “Sure, sure. I’ll help you.”

They make their way out in the corridor, Arthur supporting almost his entire weight against his side. Tommy tries not to breathe, the expansion of his ribcage is too painful.

“Where’s John?” A blurry image of his younger brother being there in the car floats up from somewhere in the back of his mind. But he disappeared once they reached the hospital. Tommy can’t remember how.

“They had to stitch him back up a bit,” Arthur explains as he leads Tommy down the too bright hallway. “A little scratch on the upper arm.” Tommy’s knees give up for a moment and he bites back a sob in pain as Arthur tightens the grip around his waist to keep him upright. “The bullet went straight through. No bones hit or anything. He’s just supposed to be lying down so he doesn’t rip the stitches.”

This is all your fault.  

He stares down at the floor, focuses all his attention on putting one foot in front of the other until Arthur finally stops by an anonymous looking door.

A nurse comes to meet them just as Arthur is about to reach out for the door handle.

”Only family allowed, I’m afraid,” she says gently, furrowing her brow as she looks Tommy up and down. “What is your relationship with Mister Solomons?”

Tommy sways on his feet, wrapping the free arm around his stomach to keep it from shaking. Her voice seems to come from so far away. And the question catches him off guard

“He’s, he’s…” What is he supposed to say?

How is he supposed to explain, when he knows nothing he says will be good enough for them?

“Who are you?” the nurse wonders, still with that questioning expression on her face. “A friend? Brother?”

“I’m…” There’s nothing he can say. Nothing that will make her understand. It doesn’t count, what they have. Not to the rest of the world. If he dies, you won’t even get to bury him. “No-one,” he finally says, choking out the words. “I’m… no-one.”

Arthur’s arms are strong around him, and his voice is firm as he speaks up.  

“He’s Thomas Shelby, and we’re going in there whether you fucking like it or not. Send the doctor my way if he’s got any objections.”

With that, Arthur leads him past the nurse, and into a room furnished with a single bed, two  chairs, and a small bedside table. A bleak sun is shining in through the window, washing the already indistinct colours out to a light grey.  

Tommy barely recognizes the pale figure lying in the bed. It can’t be Alfie… Alfie, with his constant hand gestures and bright smile and loud voice… who is so full of life that it just seeps into everything around him. The person in the bed can’t be him.

But it is. And it’s Tommy’s fault he’s there.

His knees feel weak, but Arthur holds him upright, carefully helping him limp up to the bed and sit down in the chair next to it. Tommy can’t tear his eyes from Alfie. If he just keeps looking at him… If he just keeps looking at him, Alfie will wake up. He knows that Tommy needs him. He’ll feel it, and wake up.

“Tom, it’s going to be alright.” Arthur crouches down in front of him. “He’ll pull through, the stubborn bastard. And you’ll be back to… giving me gray hair in no time.”

Tommy nods. Because he has to.

Silence fills the room. It’s a loud silence, somehow. Deafening. Tommy listens to Alfie’s almost inaudible breaths, struggling to hear them through the sound of his own heartbeat, and too loud breathing. His own breaths rattle in his chest.  

“I’ll just go check on John,” Arthur tells him. “But I’ll be back in a second.” He gets up, and runs a hand through Tommy’s hair in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. It somehow makes Tommy realise he must look like an absolute wreck.

Arthur leaves.

Then it’s just him.  

He feels lost. Unsure what to do now. So he just sits there on the chair, staring at Alfie’s unmoving frame.

How could you let this happen?

After several minutes of hesitation, he reaches out to take Alfie’s hand, terrified that he’ll find it cold. It’s not. Not as warm as it usually is either, but still warm. They've removed the rings, and the jewelry is lined up neatly on the nightstand. Picking the rings up, Tommy gently slides them back onto Alfie’s fingers, carefully making sure they are in their normal spots -the wide gold band on his thumb, the one with square shaped plate on his index… One by one. Until it’s Alfie’s hand again. Tommy pulls the chair as close to Alfie’s bedside as possible, clutching the hand like a lifeline. As long as Tommy stays by his side, Alfie can’t die. He’ll wake up. And everything will be okay again.

He just has to stay here.

He does. For the entire day. Hours pass –the passage of time is only apparent because people constantly come to bother him. A nurse comes in several times to see if there’s any change in Alfie’s condition, but there never is. A doctor does the same, writing things on a clipboard as he hums to himself. They try to make him leave the chair, go lie down, eat, drink- all these useless things.

Eventually they all turn to an indistinguishable chorus of voices, meaningless and droning. There are so many voices in his head already, a few more make no difference.

At some point, the nurse puts a tray of food on the nightstand, and Tommy forces himself to drink the water. But he doesn’t touch the food.

Eventually she comes to carry it away.

“You really should be in bed, Mister Shelby.”

He ignores the voice. Partly because he doesn’t know what to say. His throat has closed up completely, making it impossible to speak.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and he flinches at the touch.

“You are severely dehydrated and sleep deprived. And-“

The voice goes on. How can they talk about Tommy when Alfie is just lying in that bed, looking as if he’s moments away from fading way completely?  

When the hand on his shoulder wraps around his upper arm and gently tries to pull him up from the chair, Tommy tears himself loose. Finally giving up, the nurse leaves him alone.

Arthur comes instead, pulling up a chair next to him. Tommy looks at the steady rise and fall of Alfie’s chest. In and out. He’s still alive. Just resting. In and out-

“Hey, Tommy, I know you want to be here with Alfie alright, but you need to rest.”

He doesn’t want them to talk, because then he can’t hear Alfie’s breathing. He clings to that, just the way he clings to the warmth of his hand, to every little sign that he’s still alive -just resting, just resting, and he’ll wake up, and everything will be okay again-  

In and out. Slowly. Everything will be okay.

“You hear me?”

If he just stays silent, Arthur will go away. They will all go away and leave him alone here with Alfie. He tries to breathe in the same rhythm as Alfie, but it’s hard- every breath makes him painfully aware of his broken ribs.

In and out. He’s just resting. Everything will be okay. You just have to stay here…

Finally, Arthur says something about stretching his legs, and disappears from the chair.

...

The sun sets outside the window, and the exhaustion weighs heavily on his shoulders, willing him to rest his head on the mattress for a while. But he resists the urge, sitting up straighter instead.

He’s stayed awake through countless of nights. What’s one more?  

It would be impossible to sleep anyway, with the state his head is in. The guilt is gnawing at his insides, chipping away at him piece by piece. This is his fault. He should’ve seen this coming miles away. Should’ve kept more weapons in the house. Should’ve made sure they moved to a safer location. Should’ve fought back harder-

If he hadn’t gotten caught up in this-

If he’d been quicker, if he’d shot the man earlier, Alfie wouldn’t be lying here.

You can’t do anything right, can you?

How is he going to live with himself if Alfie dies?

The nurse comes in again, placing a new tray of food on the table. Tommy can feel her gaze, but he ignores it.

Arthur returns not long thereafter, and gives the tray a weary look, fingers digging into his eye sockets. “Could you at least tryto eat?” The irritation in his voice is palpable now.

Tommy can’t eat. If he opens his mouth he’s afraid his insides will just decide to start pouring out of it. The mere thought of having to force down food makes his gut churn.

“You’re fucking… wasting away.” With a deep sigh, Arthur slumps down on the chair. “What’s Alfie gonna say, eh? When he wakes up and sees you.”

“He’s not going to wake up,” Tommy says numbly, finally unable to keep the thought away. Blinking in surprise, Arthur stares dumbly at him for a moment.

“Sure he is-“

The anger bubbles up suddenly, red-hot and uncontrollable. No one understands a single fucking thing.

“No, he’s not,” Tommy cuts him off. “He’s going to die- and- and I’ll just have to fucking sit here and watch it happen.” He coughs. “And all you fucking do is pester me about all these useless bloody things-“ The room spins around him when he gets to his feet.  

“Tommy-“ Arthur stands too, and Tommy backs away, trying to put himself out of reach.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing fucking matters, don’t you see that?” Arthur comes towards him, hands outstretched as if approaching a skittish horse. “Tommy, you need rest. Or it won’t matter if Alfie pulls through or not. Because you sure as hell won’t. Have you seen yourself? You look about one second from keeling over.“

Tommy stumbles backwards until he hits the wall.

“Stop fucking telling me to rest and eat and all this fucking bullshit,” he spits venomously. ”I’ve spent the latest years trying to keep you off the fucking ledge, while you’ve just been spiraling. And now you want to play the big brother?”

Arthur clenches his jaw and swallows. “All I’m asking is that you lie down for a while.”

When Tommy resorts to just shaking his head, Arthur grabs him gently by the shoulders. Tommy pushes him, doing little to budge his larger frame. He hasn’t realized how weak his limbs are until now. But Arthur takes a step back nonetheless.

“Get out.” Tommy pushes him again, ignoring the sharp pain it sends up his arms. “Get the fuck out and leave me alone.” He stares wildly at Arthur.  “Go back to snorting coke and behaving like an unhinged basket-case. You’re better at that.”

A flash of hurt comes across Arthur’s face and he takes another step back.

For a moment, the words hang in the air between them as they stare each other down. Arthur is the one to break the silence.

“Fine, I’ll go. Whatever you say.”

Tommy sways on his feet, chest heaving in frantic breaths as he watches the door slam shut. The air gets caught in his throat, and he begins to cough, clutching the windowsill for support as  the pain shoots like knives through his ribs. White lights dance behind his closed eyelids as he fights to regain his bearings and when the cough finally subsides, he just barely makes it to the chair by Alfie’s bedside  before his knees buckle. He leans forward, head cradled in his hands, and swallows the bile that rises in the back of his throat.

The room seems a lot darker when he straightens up again, and he huddles a bit closer to the side of Alfie’s bed, reaching out to take his hand again.

If he just stays here, everything will be okay. Alfie can’t die while Tommy is sitting here, waiting for him to wake up.

He just has to stay here.

But Alfie looks so pale…

He’s dying. You know that, right? And there’s nothing you can do to change that.

The voices become louder as the night drags on.

You don’t deserve him. That’s why this is happening.

He tries to think of something happy, something that will shine a bit of light in the dark and chase the shadows away, drown out the voices. Alfie is the first thing that comes to his mind: Alfie smiling at him when they’re lying in bed. The safe feeling of his strong arms around Tommy’s back. His mouth right next to Tommy’s ear, whispering hushed reassurances when he needs it the most: ‘You deserve to be loved. Wish I could make you see that.’

You deserve nothing. No, but Alfie said-Alfie is going to die because of you. and you have the gall to believe you deserve him?  

He can see shadows moving in the corners, creeping closer with each passing hour. It’s just like the walls in the cellar. His eyes drift to the door. What if it’s locked? What if he can’t get out? He's overwhelmed by an almost irresistible urge to open it, but ends up just sitting frozen on the chair, alternating between looking at Alfie’s unconscious form and the door. Walking that far through the darkness is impossible…

A white figure appears in the room, and he’s certain it only exists in his head- but then it walks up to the bed and leans over Alfie. Instantly tensing up, Tommy stares wide eyed at it.

“It’s alright, I’m just checking on him,” the figure says and he realises it’s one of the nurses. A different one this time. “Can I get you anything, love? A blanket maybe? You look awfully cold.”

He shakes his head and a soft smile crosses her lips. She has kind eyes.

“Well, I’ll get you one anyway. If you change your mind.” When she leaves the room, she doesn’t close the door fully.

The nurse returns, carrying a blanket and a lamp that burns with a warm, dim light. He can breathe a little easier, suddenly.

“So you don’t have to sit here in the dark,” she explains and places it on the bedside table. “I’ll just leave this here,” she adds and puts the folded blanket on the foot of Alfie’s bed.

Then she leaves.

Tommy can’t bring himself to reach out for the blanket, even though he's forgotten what it feels like, to be warm. But the cold keeps him from falling asleep.

The small lamp has created a tiny pool of yellow light around him. The darkness can’t get to him here.

He stays in that pool of light, watching over Alfie for the rest of the night. Trying to ignore the shadows towering over him. They don’t disappear until the morning sun breaks through the thin, white curtains.

Around him, he vaguely hears the hospital coming to life, filling with distant conversation, footsteps, clattering of trays being carried to the different rooms. Tommy blinks, fighting desperately against his heavy eyelids. The steady rise and fall of Alfie’s chest is still there, no change for the worse. But there’s no change for the better either.

Footsteps are approaching him, but he doesn’t look up to see who it is. It doesn’t matter.

“Mister Shelby, I must insist that you return to your bed-“ He recognizes the voice from the day before. One of the nurses.  

Why won’t they leave him alone?  

“Or I’ll be forced to have you escorted there.”

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and he shies away from the touch, tensing up. After a dejected sigh, the voice and the footsteps disappear out the door.

Tommy smooths out a wrinkle in the duvet and lets his hand brush over Alfie’s cheek in passing. He allows himself to linger, tracing the delicate skin under his eye with his thumb. If he tries hard enough, he can almost imagine they’re at home, in their own bed. Alfie is just sleeping peacefully, and any second now he’ll wake up and look at Tommy that way only he can… as if he’s the most precious thing in the entire world. And it’s almost enough to make Tommy believe him for a moment… He’ll smile, say something stupid and sweet that causes Tommy blush and call him a fucking sap, even as he basks in the feeling of being wanted by someone… and by someone like Alfie, who could have his pick of far less dysfunctional people…

His blissful little fantasy is interrupted when two looming figures appear in front of him. Large hands take a firm grip on his upper arms, attempting to lift him out of the chair. It’s two white clad men. The fear surges through him, shocking his body into action and he struggles against them.

“Please calm yourself. You need to rest-“ They try to explain things again. Say that he’s got a concussion, broken bones, is sleep deprived- not thinking clear. Why are they behaving like any of that matters when Alfie is-

As long as Tommy is there by his side, Alfie can’t die. He promised he’d never leave. And now they’re trying to take him away-

Helpless against the strong hands in his weakened state, Tommy finds himself pulled to his feet and dragged away from Alfie’s bed. His heart races in his chest.

They will lock him up somewhere. And he’ll be alone in the dark again. Alone, and cold-

He fights. The piece of glass is gone, and he’s got nothing to defend himself with, but he fights nonetheless, squirming and kicking as best he can with his damaged limbs. When It doesn’t help, he screams, a wordless, desperate cry that rips from his throat. Then finally, the hands lose their grip, and his knees hit the floor. He curls inwards on himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he clasps his arms over his head- making himself small, so small that he becomes nothing and they can’t take him away... can’t hurt him, can’t take him back to the darkness.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Arthur.

“He really must lie down-“

“And you figured this was a good way to get him to do that? Thought you were supposed to be professionals here. Bloody hell, don’t need no fucking schooling to see he’s fucking terrified.  

“Sir-“

“Just get the fuck out of here. Fuck’s sake. I’ve got this.”

He feels the presence of a body next to him.

“Tom, it’s okay, you’re safe. I've got you, alright?” Arthur’s voice is soft and reassuring. Something warm is draped over his shoulders, and he’s enveloped by a familiar scent of rum. “There we go. Got Alfie’s coat cleaned for you.” As Arthur is talking he carefully pries Tommy’s arms away from on his head and guides his hands into the coat sleeves. “Guess you’ll have to stitch that hole up. But Alfie can probably do that… Good at that sort of thing I imagine…

Arthur helps him up, carrying more than leading him back to the chair. Steadier than he’s been in years. Tommy reaches out and takes Alfie’s hand again to keep his own from shaking, before settling back in his chair, sinking deep into the warmth of the coat. He buries his nose in the thick collar and breathes the scent into his nose, wishing it could fill him up completely, replace the fear seeping like icy water through his veins. It smells like Alfie. Like home.

Something scrapes against the floor, and Arthur heaves a sigh as he sits down on the chair, opposite him. But it’s not followed by another comment on how he should get some rest, ore eat… He just silently stays by his side.

Arthur sits with him as another night begins to fall, and the shadows in the room grow longer again. He still doesn’t tell him to sleep. And no one else comes to force him to do it either.

The realisation doesn’t hit him suddenly. It creeps up on him. With each passing hour, he can feel the lump in his throat grow bigger, feel his chest tighten and the hand clenched around his insides hold them a bit harder.

Arthur is snoring in his chair, and the room is dark.

The nurse comes in just briefly, giving them a onceover, before leaving again.

Alfie is going to die. That’s why they’re not bothering him anymore, because they all know, and finally understand how pointless everything else is.

For a moment, Tommy is certain he’s back in that warehouse, his ribcage caving in under the brutal force of steel pounding against it.  

He’s breaking into a thousand pieces.

All the cracks that Alfie spent so much time trying to mend, to make him a little less broken… all those jagged edges he smoothed out so he wouldn’t always hurt anyone who came too close… It’s all for nothing right at that moment. He can feel himself falling apart, piece by piece.

The tears seeping down his cheeks are not accompanied by any sobs. They just silently fall, painting burning hot trails over his cold skin.

Hands still clasped around Alfie’s, Tommy rests his forehead against his knuckles and prays. For a miracle. For just one fucking miracle, even if he doesn’t deserve it. He prayed sometimes in the tunnels, and it should’ve taught him that it’s no use. God doesn’t listen to people like him. But he does it, still, for Alfie.

Alfie deserves a miracle.

Please let him wake up. Please let him be okay. Please don’t take him away from me, because I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I’ll do anything…

The God he was raised to believe in won’t listen. But maybe Alfie’s God will.

...

The night has faded into another dawn, a grey, rainy one. Tommy raises his head to watch the droplets whip against the windowpane, eyes stinging. A grunt is heard from the chair next to him as Arthur begins to stir. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking sluggishly a few times, he turns his attention to Tommy, eyes shifting between him and Alfie. His mouth falls open to ask a question, but he apparently figures out the answer before finding the right words.

“Just going to see if John’s allowed out of bed yet,” Arthur says and gets up from the chair, rolling his shoulders. “He might start biting the nurses otherwise.”  

Alone once again, Tommy finds himself unable to fight the weariness weighing down on his shoulders. It’s no use. Before he can make a conscious decision, his body just gives up and slumps forward. He lays his head down on the mattress, closing his eyes to will the nausea away. His muscles refuses to support him any longer, and he remains there.

They’ll have to carry him away when they come to fetch Alfie’s body.

When the hand he’s holding shifts slightly, fingers gripping weakly around his, he is certain he’s imagining it. But he straightens up nonetheless, using some unknown source of strength.

The lack of sleep has finally gotten to him, and now he’s seeing things.

“Alfie?” His voice is raspy from disuse, but he manages to get the word out.

Alfie looks at him through a veil of lashes, mouth twitching under the beard.

“Morning, love. Been waiting here for long?”    

It takes a few unfathomably long seconds before he finally pulls himself out of the stupor. Then he pitches forward and kisses Alfie, cradling his face between his bandaged hands.

The relief flooding his chest is unlike anything he’s felt in his entire life, and the tears come before he can stop them, filling his eyes and seeping down his cheeks. The lips under his are warm and undeniably real and Alfie is alive everything will be okay now…

“I love you,” he breathes out. “God, I love you so much.” It’s all he manages to say. And right at that moment, it’s all he needs to say.

When a choked sob escapes him, Tommy quickly straightens up and wipes the tears away, swallowing down the ones threatening to well his eyes. Alfie shouldn’t have to see him cry the first thing he does.

“Oh, it’s alright sweetheart,” Alfie mutters wearily, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Better to let it out. ”

No. He can’t just fall apart now. Alfie needs him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he takes strained breaths in through his nose until he’s regained his bearings enough to speak.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy.” Alfie grimaces in pain as he shifts slightly on the mattress, eliminating any credibility the words may have had.

“I’ll get a nurse.” Tommy makes a move to stand, ignoring his entire body protesting violently by sending a wave of pain through all his limbs. Alfie tightens the grip around his hand slightly.

“Stay.”

“Just to let them know you’re awake,” he promises. He can feel himself slurring, struggling against his uncooperative tongue. “So they can give you something for the pain.” Alfie lets out sigh, releasing his hand.

The floor is rocking under him as he unsteadily makes his way over to the door, clutching the frame for support as he scans the hallway. Arthur and John are stood a little ways down, and the second they see him, they both come walking in his direction.  

“You look like you should be in the fucking morgue,” John exclaims and earns a sharp elbow in the ribs from Arthur.

“Alfie’s awake,” Tommy says, grasping for words as he ignores this comment.. “Could -“ Fuck, he can’t even string a sentence together. “A nurse. Could you get a nurse?”

“I’m on it,” John states and marches off, while Arthur ushers Tommy back into the room and towards the chair right in time before his legs give up.

“Look at you, you stubborn bastard.” Arthur beams at Alfie, slapping his shoulder and earning a sharp glare from Tommy. “Just knew I wouldn’t get rid of you that easily.” Alfie lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Well, I was standing there by the pearly gates and all, but then I said to myself: who will pester Arthur, then?”

“Easy with the talking.” Tommy brushes a stray hair away from Alfie’s forehead. “You need to rest.”

“But I’ve got several days’ worth of it, love.” Alfie smiles at him. It’s faint, and tired, but it still makes Tommy’s heart swell in his chest. “’Least I think so. How long-“ he makes a pause, taking a pained breath. “How long was I out for?”

Tommy looks to Arthur for an answer. It’s all just been a daze.

“Three days,” Arthur tells him. “Was about time you decided to wake up. I’ve been left to run things all on my own here.”

John enters with a nurse and a doctor in tow. Tommy is pretty sure they’ve both been in there before, but he can’t remember when.

“Solomons! You look like shit, mate,” John exclaims and gives Alfie a bright grin, walking up to the bed. This time, Tommy manages to stop him before any unnecessarily violent slaps of affection are handed out. “And you didn’t even get to hear the shit that went down! Do I have a story for you. Me and Ishmael, we’re hiding behind this crate, right, when we see these blokes, definitely not ours, come in through the back door so we-”

When John is relieved, he rambles. So for a while, the room descends in a rather pleasant kind of chaos, as the doctor tries to ask Alfie questions, Alfie tries to answer them, John talks about the shootout with Changretta’s men, Arthur does the same, and the poor nurse just does her best trying to hush them.

Tommy sits quietly in his chair and watches the whole thing unfold, still caught in some confusing mixture of disbelief and dizzying happiness.

“Well, Mister Solomons. As long as we steer clear of infections, I recon you will be quite alright after a good few weeks of rest-” The doctor puts great emphasis on this as he talks about the recovery process ahead, resting. Tommy needs to remember that.  

The doctor leaves, and after giving a few admonishing comments to both John and Arthur concerning the volume, the nurse states she’ll come back with something to eat, before following suit.

John can’t stop talking, it would seem. On any other occasion, Tommy would tell him to shut up, but he can’t bring himself to do so now.

“Know what, John, think we should leave these two alone,” Arthur finally says and grabs his shoulder. “If I know them right they need to stare longingly into each other’s eyes for at least half an hour now.”

John grins and lets himself be dragged towards the door

“We should call Pol,” he declares. “Give her the absolutely devastating news that she’ll just have to continue putting up you.” And with that, they close the door, and peace settles in the room again  

Tommy runs a hand through Alfie’s hair, noticing the a tension around his eyes

“You sure you don’t want any morphine?”

“Nah…” Alfie mutters. “Like to keep me wits about me. ‘s just a bit of pain.”

Tommy nods tightly.

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit?” Alfie stretches out his arm gingerly in an inviting gesture. “Looks like you could use some rest.” Tommy wants nothing more than to take him up on the offer.  

“What about the-“ the nurses, the doctor, fucking everyone…

“Fuck’em,” Alfie huffs, immediately wincing in pain. “Get in here.”

Tommy carefully climbs into bed next to him, stretching his aching legs out. The pain in his side keeps him from doing anything but lie perfectly still on his back, but he feels the warmth of Alfie’s body next to his, and soon enough, their fingers are laced together under the duvet.

“You okay?” Alfie squeezes his hand. “What sort of things did he do to you, eh? Changretta.”

Tommy keeps his eyes fixed on the duvet.

“I was just locked up somewhere. Nothing to worry about.”

When Alfie opens his mouth to protest, Tommy turns his head to capture his lips in a soft kiss instead.

“We’ll talk when you’re feeling better. Just rest now. You heard the doctor.” He settles his head back onto the pillow. They’re not going to talk about the cellar.  “And then we’re also going to talk about that incredibly stupid fucking plan of yours.”    

For once, Alfie’s stubbornness can’t help him; he resorts to running his thumb over Tommy's knuckles, before closing his eyes and announcing that he’s just going to sleep for a bit.

“You should too, love.”

What Tommy really should do is stay awake and make sure that Alfie wakes up this time-

He’s asleep before he can finish the thought.

...

When Tommy wakes up again, confused but not quite as terrified as the last time, he much to his surprise finds Polly is sitting in the same chair he’s been occupying the past few days. Arthur and John are seated by the opposite wall, engaged in a conversation of unknown nature and at an uncharacteristically reasonable volume.

“What are you doing here?” he rasps out. Polly smiles and reaches out to stroke his cheek.

“Had to look after my boys, didn’t I?” she says. “And not a minute too soon, it would seem. You look awful.”

“Oh, don’t listen to her, love,” Alfie’s voice comes from above him, a fraction stronger than the last time he heard it. He’s sitting leaned against the pillows and looking down at Tommy with a fond smile. “Just a little pale. Some food and another week of sleep and you’ll be as radiant as ever.”

His fingers rake against the nape of Tommy’s neck, and Tommy furrows his brow, still rather confused. Outside the window, the rain has turned into a steady snowfall, and the gray light gives no indication of what hour of the day it is.

“How long have I been sleeping?”  

“Little over a day, the good doctor told me,” Alfie says. “Was out myself for a bit of it too, so I had to check.”

With some help from Polly, Tommy also manages to sit up, and is just about to ask who is taking care of things at home, who’s looking after Finn, when the question answers itself.

“You’re awake!” Finn comes rushing into the room, and Polly just barely manages to stop him from throwing himself over Tommy. Behind him, Ada and Esme appear in the doorway.

“You’re… all here?” Tommy asks dumbly.

“We commandeered a boat!” Ada tells him with a grin. “We figured women and children would just have to step in and make sure you lot didn’t get yourself killed.”

“I’m mostly here for the sights,” Esme shrugs, but the vase of flowers in her arms contradict this statement.

This is all a bit too much to take in, and Tommy can’t quite come up with a response. Luckily he doesn’t have to, because Finn is as usual full of them.

“I’ve been looking after the horses.” He seats himself on the edge of the bed. “They got very scared when I told them you were missing, but now they’re happy again, so don’t worry.” Without hesitation, he digs up Tommy’s bandaged hand from under the cover and very gently takes it between his smaller ones, patting it carefully. “I went to the stables every day. Because horses sense a lot of things, so I figured it was better to just be upfront with them.” Tommy has a feeling this has more to do with Finn than the horses.

“These are for you,” Esme tells Alfie and puts the flowers down on the nightstand.  “Better get back on your feet quickly,” she adds with a rare smile. “I’ve gotten used to having help in the kitchen. Would be a shame if we lost the only decent man in the household. ”

“Recon John can step in,” Alfie gives a pointed look in his direction, and John takes great offence.    

“I’m severely injured!”

“Indoor voices, please,” Polly says sternly, before turning her attention to Alfie. “If you need me to escort this lot out of here, just say the word.”

Alfie sinks a little deeper into the pillows, giving her a dismissive wave. “It’s fine.”

“Well, this is what life in the Shelby family is like.” Ada shakes her head and seats herself on the edge of the bed next to Finn. “Constant chaos. Always. In any situation. No mercy.” She reaches out to pat the general area on the duvet where Alfie’s knee presumably is. “And now you’re stuck with us. Congratulations.

Tommy glances up at Alfie to make sure this virtual storm of impressions isn’t too much. Granted, he still looks quite pale and exhausted, but a smile is hidden behind the beard, and his eyes are bright.

He rests his head lightly on Alfie’s shoulder and hugs the arm close to his chest, twining their fingers together. Alfie gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Soon, the family has made themselves comfortable in different spots around and on the bed, filling the room with a chaos only comparable to the one usually reigning over their dinner table. Alfie gives Tommy a piece of bread from the tray on the nightstand with the comment:

“Saved this for you love. Figured you hadn’t eaten in a while.” And curled up against Alfie’s warm body, Tommy manages to eat. Slowly. And only one tiny bite at the time. But still.

Finn is talking constantly. It’s his first time in London, so obviously just the walk to the hospital has given him about a million things to reflect upon. And much like John, he’s incapable of being quiet whenever he’s overcome by some strong emotion.

“And there are so many tall houses? I saw one- one with a clock. There’s a picture of that house my history book in school, but someone has drawn all over it so you can’t see it that well-“

It’s impossible for the Shelby family to be in one room together without trying to all talk at the same time, and despite the welcomed contrast from the last few days’ crippling loneliness, Tommy begins to worry it’s going to tire Alfie out.

“Just tell me if you need to rest,” Tommy whispers softly into his ear, as to not let Finn hear him. “They won’t mind.”  

“Was just about to tell you the same, love,” Alfie answers in the same quiet voice. The rest of the family seem quite unaware of this exchange, currently listening to Finn describe what could be Buckingham palace, or simply any other large building. “I don’t mind.”

Tommy relaxes against his side, the familiar atmosphere enveloping him in blissful safety. He’s still wearing Alfie’s coat, so the cold he thought had permanently settled in his bones has finally melted away. And suddenly, the past days just feel like a distant nightmare. Even the memories from the cellar, the musty air, the darkness, seem far away at that moment. He’s not alone now.

“I recon I could swim across that river!”

“No, Finn!“

Tommy glances down at the bandages covering Alfie’s stomach, and a jolt of guilt twists his gut. He hugs the arm a little tighter and tears his eyes away from the injury, shifting them to Alfie’s face instead, and the happy expression that still lingers under the veil of exhaustion.

“Everything okay?” Alfie mutters into his hair as he kisses the top of his head and Tommy gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Alfie is alive. He’s here with Tommy, and that’s all that matters right now.

“Yeah. Everything’s okay."

[aceofwands]

Ria hateblogs Discovery Episode 5: “Choose Your Pain” (do I even need to retitle this one?) (not liveblogged to @kendradaynes for a change)

Okay here we go!

right ... fancy blurr-o vision of an empty ship, and oh look, it’s Michael facing herself - dream sequence?

yep. dream sequence

Michael talking to the Doctor about how they’re torturing the Tardis, oops I mean Tardigrade

What a veeeeery spiky starbase

Lorca talking to Admirals, who want to use the technology - wait, Starfleet didn’t already have the specs for the spore drive??? 

OH GOOD they’re HUNTING the Tardigrades! THAT seems like something Starfleet would do

Lorca is all “we’re the only ones who can do this” uuuuugh it’s just so unbelievable

what interesting friends Tilly? there are no other characters on this show

STRESSED Tilly?! WTF she has MORALS, not stress

UGH I did NOT need to see that Lorca - so they can fix his eyes but he doesn’t trust doctors? good lord

is it just me or is the admiral hella wooden? it’s probably just the dialogue

“why give everyone another reason to judge you?” for the drama. obviously

“are you uncomfortable with the power I’ve been given Admiral?” she might not be, but I am, cause it makes no damn sense - Sisko didn’t have this much power and DS9 was literally on the front line of the Dominion War

“i’m your friend” wait really?

my ship, my way - ah yes, that old Starfleet motto

LOL

Lorca just got picked up by a Klingon ship, where exactly is the Discovery in all this? where is the ship in relation to the space station??? 

skipping the intro cause I cbf today, it’s boring anyway

how does Discovery in orbit of a planet look LESS realistic than the old shows? TOS’s Enterprise on a string was more realistic ffs!

LOL it’s POSSIBLE the Klingons have figured out the spore drive exists - YOU THINK? what did they THINK would happen if they kept using it?

“do you have proof that we are harming it?” I mean, its screams of pain???

why would Saru continue to trust her and allow her to operate, given his own reservations

LOL I love how the list of Starfleet’s ‘decorated captains’ is LIMITED TO THE FEW CAPTAINS WE KNOW ABOUT, come ON show as IF there haven’t been people over the DECADE since Enterprise we don’t know about!!

also Georgiou is the ONLY WOMAN ON THE LIST

Saru getting the computer to tell him how to be a better captain ... uuuugh because Michael makes him doubt himself? you wouldn’t want to ever question your own decisions, would you Saru??

oh good. Mudd.

ahahahaha at least we get a bit of amusement finally  .... even his exposition is boring though

wow, these Klingons really can’t talk

oh

oh wow

this is what every Star Trek shows need, Klingons brutally beating up a prisoner to remind us they’re bad guys 

from what they’ve established of Lorca so far, I find it hard to believe he HAS reservations about not letting other Starfleet officers or people be injured instead of him, that’s how shady his morals are

wait, the Doctor isn’t the CMO? where are the actual senior officers on this show?!!! we don’t see the Chief Engineer, the CMO, everyone we do see on the Bridge are just role-less bridge officers there to give orders to

“you are the cause of this situation Burnham” ummmmm that is blatantly untrue?

shoulda got those eyes fixed Lorca

lol “or a liar” Lorca is SUCH AN ASSHOLE

OH GOOD implied sexual assault! 

“of course you did, the moment you decided to boldly go where no one had gone before” uuuugh this dialogue

“sick and tired of getting caught in the crossfire”, but I thought we hadn’t seen the Klingons in 100 years ??? what other war or ‘crossfire’ have Federation citizens been in, exactly?????

so glad they only have 3 crewmembers on this extremely important research project! an expert, a cadet, and a criminal! THAT’S believeable 

they’re still calling it Ripper ... great ...

soooo it’s a Jaegar? they need to Drift? human controlled mushroom spore drive, the “science” of this is fucking ridiculous

“no cadet, it is fucking cool” w o w, what Star Trek dialogue

finally a Klingon speaking English

they just look so fucking stupid with their spiky armour and giant heads, like how is it that huge glam rock hair and creaky rubber armour still looks more real than these Klingons???

lol, no one’s told Saru about the plan to fix the Spore Drive

lol, Saru trusted Burnham to listen to him - why would he? how stupid can he be? she literally never listens to any orders. ever

“I gave you an order, do you understand?” > her long winded answer = no

“your actions show me what you are” lol yeah

but also way to ignore the ethical issue of torturing the Tardigrade ENTIRELY what the actual fuck

why are they all so terrible

“we both know you lost that [your decency] with your last command” oh good, Lorca backstory

“apparently, the honorable Captain was too good to go down with his ship” - OH but he blew up the ship so the crew wouldn’t be tortured on Qo’noS 

WHAT a Starfleet officer folks! someone for us all to admire and be inspired by, not.

ugh back to Saru. I hate him SO MUCH, he is just driven by his fucking hatred and distrust of Michael

why don’t they pull a Lorca and transmit its cries of pain across the ship

OH GOOD they’ve killed it!

WHO COULD POSSIBLY HAVE PREDICTED THIS?

oh no, it’s not dead, it’s just dehydrated itself

“rehydrate it and bring it back” FUCK OFFFFF SARU

YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE

“I will not be party to murder” wow, so glad at least one crewmember has morals - but ofc it’s the doctor

awwww, the Starfleet officer volunteering to be beaten instead of Mudd - the only one who has morals - the only Starfleet officer so far who deserves the title

LORCA IS SUCH A COWARD

oh lol wait they’re trying to break out, these Klingons are even unbelievable as warriors, on top of everything else, they got beaten up way too easily

lol Lorca leaving Mudd to Klingon prison - he’s an asshole and that is NOT Starfleet Captain behaviour (but then nothing Lorca does is)

don’t leave him behind Lorca! you won’t be back for him!

WHAT EVEN IS THIS SHOW

NOOOOOOO Lorca this is your fault! don’t let the only likeable Starfleet officer be murdered by the Klingon who’s been assaulting him!

oh it’s okay though cause he found the docking bay in like 30 seconds and came back for him - good thing the ship was tiny apparently

what even are these Klingon fighter ships? they’re little fans! they look fucking stupid

Saru worked out Lorca was being chased, just in time for a dramatic beam out

“we are able to jump commander” in the shiftiest voice, guarantee they did the experiment on Burnham

ohhhh lol nope, Stamets did it to himself

at least he had morals!

oh the dramatic wake up scene

AHAHAHA his laughter is the best

at least he can finally talk to mushrooms or whatever?

oh good, Saru has come to talk to Michael

wow, I’m so amazed at this dialogue, the way everyone just explicitly lays out their feelings and motivations. how realistic.

it just rings so fucking false, like there is NOTHING genuine behind it, any of it

Michael giving Saru Georgiou’s telescope

finally a Starfleet order - save the Tardigrade’s life! 

sooo they don’t know if it’s safe to let it go but they’re just gonna chuck the spores in and send it off????? ummmmmm 

really?

REALLY? 

oh good, it woke up in space and zapped away.

hey we’re finally seeing Stamets and Culber as a couple ... brushing their teeth

“you were in danger” awwww <3

also he’s like, tapped into the fungi network now, dream come true

“I also knew you’d leave me if I let anything else endanger that creature”

what they didn’t even get to kiss in their lovey dovey scene

UMMMMMM creepy mirror Stamets, that’s a bit of a worry

well.

episode done.

I really want to like this show for what it is. Really, I do. 

We had the moral drama of the Tardigrade, but how am I supposed to like Saru when he literally throws his morals completely out the window??? “I was just following orders” is never a reason to harm another being and really, the show brushed over the whole ethical issue completely by just having the characters make individual choices to serve the plot, rather than actually discuss the issue like they would in any other Star Trek series

and Lorca’s entire backstory just makes him even more shady and immoral ffs

and I am just really really not on board with how the characters do complete 180s for the sake of the plot and drama - Saru doesn’t trust Michael, but then he does, flip. flop. flip. flop.

and oh boy am I really, really, really not on board for ‘characters explain their motivations and feelings in a paragraph of exposition’ with 0 emotion behind any of it. it makes it feel so contrived.

I still just don’t feel like I care about any of the characters at all, none of them feel the smallest bit real, there’s something so unnatural and unrealistic about their dialogue and their actions. I think the only reason I found the episode slightly more bearable than others is because they finally had enough plot to keep things moving along without me getting bored.

also, the weirdest part is how small the show feels. the Discovery feels empty, the starbase scene we didn’t know or care about any of the other Admirals, even the Klingon prison ship didn’t feel like it had anything other than that one cell (and corridor, and torture chamber) - they’re so tightly focused on the few characters we know that it just feels like everyone else is cardboard cutouts in the background. it doesn’t FEEL like there’s a war going on. all this money on set design and special effects and whatever and the show somehow feels tiny?

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Preview - Final Fantasy XV (work in progress)

@ignoctweek Ignoct Week Day 3, Prompt B: (Situational) Reincarnation/Time Travel AU Title: “Time Warp” (tentative) Rating: General (thus far) Warnings: N/A NOTE: This is just an excerpt of what is quickly turning into a novel-length fanfic. Up to this point in the story, all you need to know is Noct has wound up on Earth. He awakes in a hospital where his doctor is none other than Ignis Scientia. But Ignis doesn’t recognize him. And he doesn’t believe there is any such place as Eos, or that Noctis is a prince, or that the two of each other have ever met. The excerpt you are about to read is in rough draft format. I’m too tired to edit it and there’s no point right now because the story is incomplete. Follow The Muses of Mars on Tumblr, Archive of Our Own, or Fanfiction.net for updates!

They drove down unfamiliar streets, past unfamiliar buildings, and suddenly it began to rain. Ignis turned on the windshield-wipers and adjusted his glasses, slowing down as the road began to glisten.

“You can pull over if you need to. I don’t mind taking the wheel,” Noctis offered. “I know you hate driving in the dark, and now it’s raining, too.”

“You know no such thing,” Ignis snapped quietly. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

Noct watched him for a moment. He could tell Ignis was tense, and wasn’t sure if the reason had more to do with the darkness or with the fact that he’d known Ignis didn’t like it.

One thing he did know what that a little conversation always seemed to help calm him down. Ignis didn’t like having the stereo on after the sun went down because he needed to focus on the road. But if he just sat there rigidly with his guard up the whole time, he’d have a killer neck ache in the morning.

“So, how far are we going?” he asked, to get the ball rolling.

“The rain might slow us down, but I live about fifteen minutes or so from the hospital,” Ignis answered, already sounding less grumpy.

Noct helped keep a watch on the road, though he had begun to doubt daemons were even roaming this world. “I really appreciate you letting me crash at your place,” he said.

“Temporarily,” Ignis reminded him. “I’ll help you get back on your feet while we search for someone who might know you, but then we’ll have to say goodbye.”

Noct’s hands balled into fists. Damn it, Ignis! he mentally cursed. You do know me, better than anyone! Why don’t you remember?

Ignis softly sighed. “Don’t be frustrated. I’m sure you have family or friends somewhere in the city. The police have your photograph, but we can do some searching online—Facebook or something—and see if there’s anyone you recognize.”

“You really still don’t believe we know each other, do you?” Noct murmured disappointedly.

“I’m still quite certain we never met before you became my patient,” Ignis said sternly, “and I will ask you just once more to please stop pretending otherwise.” He suddenly put on the turn signal and a moment later pulled into a parking lot.

“Wh-what gives?” Noct demanded, sitting up straighter. Worriedly, he asked, “You’re not kicking me out, are you?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Ignis parked the car in an empty spot and cut the engine, then pulled his keys from the ignition. “You can’t just keep wearing my things; they don’t fit you at all. Plus you’re going to need your own toothbrush, a razor… And I’ve no idea what you like to eat, so I suppose we’ll need to stock up on groceries, as well.” He unfastened his seatbelt, opened the driver’s side door, and climbed out of the car. “Well? Are you coming?”

“R-right.” Noct hurriedly scrambled out of the car and Ignis locked it from a remote on his keyring. The vehicle made a beeping sound and then Ignis walked up to the front doors of a large building whose sign read: “Walmart.”

Noct looked around in confusion as Ignis procured a large shopping cart. “What is this place?” he asked as they walked past racks of clothing, an unexpected jewelry counter, and then a pharmacy. “It’s like they’ve got everything here.”

“Essentially,” Ignis agreed. He pushed the cart down an aisle in the health and beauty department and then stopped, perusing the selection of personal care wares. “Do you have any brand preferences, or are you still playing the ‘foreign royalty’ card?” Noct looked at him blankly. “All right, then. Leave it to me.” He sounded only mildly annoyed this time. “It’s probably faster if I do this myself, anyway.”

Noctis followed the other man blindly as Ignis selected a stick of deodorant; a shaving kit with a razor, blades, and shaving cream; and a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. He left Noct to choose his own shampoo while he did his physician’s duty and went to find the boy an age-appropriate multivitamin.

Next they returned to the clothing department. “I got this, Specs,” the prince said nonchalantly. Ignis shrugged and had a seat on a bench outside the changing booths while the boy chose a few outfits and tried them on. He seemed drawn to graphic T-shirts, and while they were blessedly inexpensive, Ignis also dragged him toward a rack of flannel shirts and sweaters for something more suitable for winter. Noct found some jeans he liked and grabbed several pairs, then they found him a comfortable pair of tennis shoes and some nicer boots. Finally came socks and underwear. “Briefs?” Ignis sounded surprised. “I’m a boxer man, myself.” At last they were finished.

“Satisfied with these?” Ignis confirmed. “Then let’s pick up some food. I don’t mind cooking, but you’ll have to tell me what you like.”

“I like your cooking,” Noct commented. When Ignis glared at him suspiciously, he corrected himself to say, “I’m really not big on veggies, so…anything else is fine.”

Ignis muttered to himself about kids today and their unhealthy diets, and though such comments had warranted an eyeroll or two in the past, right now it made Noct smile to hear the other man complain about his eating habits like the good old days.

Eventually they headed for the registers to check out with their puchases. As Ignis plucked his wallet out of an inside pocket on his coat, Noct suddenly seemed awkward.

“Um, so, Ignis…” the boy began, then he had to stop and start again. “Uh, you know I don’t have any gil, right?”

“Any…what?” Ignis was giving him that look again, like he’d said something crazy.

“Don’t tell me you guys don’t have to worry about money here!”

“Oh. We use dollars and cents in America,” Ignis said, but his tone was more sarcastic than explanatory. “And I know perfectly well you haven’t got any money—gills, or whatever you called it. That’s my entire reason for taking you in for a time. I just couldn’t very well turn you out on the streets of Manhattan, could I?”

Noct still felt guilty. “I’ll find a way to pay you back,” he promised.

“Think nothing of it,” Ignis said dismissively, opening his wallet and selecting a credit card. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a doctor; here, at least, physicians are rather well-paid.”

“Oh. Cool.” Noct still wasn’t sure, but after the items had been tallied up and bagged, the man didn’t even bulk at the price tag, so he must have been telling the truth.

Outside it was raining heavily. They raced to the car and Ignis unlocked the doors. They had to toss wet bags into the trunk, and then Ignis jogged back to the store with their shopping cart. When he returned, Noctis was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” Noct said insistently. “Get in before you drown!”

With a frown, Ignis did as he was told. He finally handed Noct the keys and then strapped in. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled to himself. “I know you haven’t a license. You don’t have any ID!”

“I have a license,” Noct corrected. “It’s just…lost. With everything else.”

The prince started the car, then began backing out of the parking space. “Just try not to get pulled over,” Ignis warned. “If the police insist on arresting you, I’ll leave you in their care.”

“Don’t worry, Specs,” Noct said with a grin as he adjusted the mirrors. “You always let me drive at night.”

Ignis watched Noct as the boy expertly pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main highway again. It really did seem as though Noct knew him, somehow. But it made no sense, because things the boy knew…he’d never told anyone. He’d never thought about them, really. So how did he have such intimate knowledge?

He almost wondered if the boy knew where he lived, but he seemed so unfamiliar with even the most mundane things. And he certainly did know how to handle a vehicle during a nighttime storm. But it soon became apparently he had no idea where they were going, and Ignis had to direct him sharply before they missed his turn.

They passed by a low stone wall engraved with the name Honeysuckle Terrace and entered an affluent suburb where the houses were huge and their well-kept lawns were sprawling.

“That’s my house,” Ignis said, pointing. “Third one on the right.”

Noctis whistled. “Very nice, Iggy,” he said in awe. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

Ignis seemed a bit flustered by the compliment. “Well…it’s comfortable enough,” he said dismissively. “Just pull into the drive and I’ll open the garage.”

Noct slowed to a stop in front of the garage doors. Ignis leaned in close and reached toward the steering column. Noct gasped softly in surprise, turning to look at Ignis. The other man’s face was nearly touching his. “Pardon,” the blond muttered, fidgeting with the keys until he found the garage button on the keyring and pressed it. Noct’s eyes didn’t leave Ignis’s face until the other man had settled back in his seat and ordered him, “Eyes forward. Then pull on through—carefully.”

“…Right.” Noct did as he was told, surprised when he pulled the compact car in next to a black SUV. He shifted the gear to “park,” then cut the engine and turned off the lights. He slipped the keys out of the ignition and handed them to Ignis, their fingers touching for just an instant during the transfer. “Are you sure if it’s okay that I stay here for a while?” Noct asked, quietly folding his hands in his lap.

“Of course,” Ignis replied, taken aback. “Why ask, now that we’re here?”

Noct gave a slight nod in the direction of the other car. “Well, I didn’t think about it before, but…I’d hate to intrude on your family.”

“My what?” Now the man was genuinely startled. He turned his head to see what Noct was looking at. “Oh, you mean the other car?” He chuckled softly and unfastened his seatbelt. “They’re both mine.”

“Oh.” Noct was equally surprised, and not only a little relieved. “Oh! Well, okay, then.”

They climbed out of the car and gathered their shopping bags, then Noctis followed Ignis back out of the garage and along the sidewalk toward the front door. The walkway was lit up with garden lamps, and faux candles shone all the windows. The house was a single story but looked enormous from the outside. Noct was surprised that Ignis would live alone in such a big place, but it was a relief. He still thought this was the same Ignis he’d always known, and that something crazy had happened to them, but if he’d found a wife and children in the house…well, not only would it have been a hundred times more awkward staying here, but that would also have shattered his already thin hope that Igis would regain his memories of their life on Eos.

Noct shivered on the concrete porch while Ignis put his key into the lock on the front door. “Just a moment,” he said, and then he was turning the knob and pushing the door open, gesturing for Noct to enter the house first.

Nervously, Noct crossed over the threshold. Ignis followed to shut and lock the door behind them, then turned on the light.

Noct looked around curiously. They were standing on a stone tile entryway, beyond which lay a cozy, carpeted den with a large fireplace along the far wall. The kitchen was located straight ahead and hallways stretched to the left and right. Everything looked clean and polished—just as he would expect any space of Ignis’s to be.

“A hot bath would do you some good,” Ignis said, momentarily setting his armload of shopping bags down on the floor. He peeled his jacket back over his shoulders before hanging it up on a coatrack next to the door. “I’ll take that coat,” he offered, reaching out for the white lab coat he’d lent the boy from his office, “then if you’ll step out of those oversized shoes, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

Noct set down his bags and shrugged off the white coat, then gave it to Ignis, but didn’t even have to untie the shoes he was wearing to step out of them. He followed the other man down the hallway to the left. “Laundry room,” Ignis pointed out on the left, “and bathroom,” pushing wide a door to the right.

“What’s down there?” Noct asked, nodding his head to the last door at the end of the hallway.

“My bedroom.”

“Ah.” The answer gave rise to another question. “Where am I sleeping, anyway?”

“The guestroom.” Ignis reached around the wall and flipped on the bathroom light, revealing a large room done in chocolate and mocha with bronze and ivory accents. He handed Noct his bag of personal items. “I’ll prepare supper while you wash up. Take your time,” he added over his shoulder on his way back down the hall. “The towels are under the sink.”

“‘Kay.” Noct stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The tiles were cool under his bare feet but the glow of the lamps on either side of the large over-the-counter mirror gave off a warm feeling, and suddenly nothing sounded better than immersing himself in a hot tub. How long had it been since he’d had a proper bath? He’d been in the hospital for, what, three weeks? This was going to feel amazing.

He found a large towel and a washcloth in a well-organized cabinet under the sink counter and carried them over to the bathtub, setting them down on the rim. Noct plugged the drain and turned the hot water tap on, then he stripped out of Ignis’s oversized clothing and unpacked his shopping bag.

The tub was large and heart-shaped, but the water was gushing with such force that it was more than halfway full when Noctis climbed inside. The heat of the water felt fantastic after being out in the cool night air in such loose clothing. He sank into it like he was melting, leaning back against the reclining wall and closing his eyes. He felt cleaner already, and the steam was doing marvels to clear his head of confusion and distress.

He was on Earth, not Eos. Conventions were much the same, yet there were no daemons here. People went driving and even shopping at night, fearlessly. The world seemed safer, yet he took no comfort in that assumption; having been born and raised in an era where day-to-day living became more perilous with each passing hour, he could not help but feel suspicious of this world. What darkness was it hiding?

The water was beginning to lap at the rim of the tub. Noct felt it rising above his shoulders and forced himself to sit up and turn the tap off. He was still bruised from his accident and his ribs ached to lean forward, but he reclined again a moment later and let the water soothe his aches. With his arms stretched out to the sides and his whole body relaxed, he felt almost comfortable enough to fall asleep. His head hadn’t ached in days, so that was a good sign. It might take a while longer, but the rest of him would heal, too.

But what then? What had brought him here, and how? When could he go home? What if he couldn’t?

Those were mysteries he would have to solve in time. For now he was only certain that in spite of the blow to his head, he had not dreamed his life up to this point, and he wasn’t crazy. He was Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, born and raised in the Crown City of Insomnia on the planet Eos. But who was the man in the kitchen?