#sorry like...was she supposed to like a woman trying to supplant her?

[fideidefenswhore]

Thoughts on how Catherine&Henry were portrayed in BSR?

Well, they were mainly portrayed in the background, right?

I think it's from Anne's perspective, so that's what we see and that's what we hear (from her...none of the historians seem to really comment on their relationship on an interpersonal level, as such, only re: the political ramifications, because the series was not about that, so...beyond Dr. Owen Emmerson saying Catherine underestimated Anne-- I don't think this went vice versa, but I think Henry underestimated Catherine and vice versa there, too...they don't really get into this in-depth, though).

So, Anne says they didn't love each other, and that's what Anne, here, believes. The real Anne did not comment on it much that is 'on the record', beyond that "the love she bore him was far greater than that of the late Queen". That is what she believed, or, if we're being skeptical, what she thought was circumspect to say she believed. That doesn't make it true, and I don't think the creators were trying to hoodwink viewers into believing that's true-- just that Anne did.

It's been a huge complaint on Instagram circles rn, which I don't wholly understand? Why are they swearing up and down the last thing they want in the world is yet another series from Anne's POV (it was the same song and dance last year, too), then watching a series that has promoted itself, from the jump, as one that is only from Anne's POV...and then are mad when it’s from Anne's POV?

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #158

Sorry if this isn’t the right place, I have only recently discovered this tumblr and am slowly working my way backwards through your dpxdc tag.  I think it might be an injoke here so uh, behold poor Yorick, totally not the human skull of Tchaikowsky fullfilling his actor dreams postmortem.

One of the posts in the tag was a dpxdc trope writing challenge. So I’m not sure if you’re interested in seeing blurb turned fic summary but here:

Nightwing learns of a travelling circus, Circus Gothica, that claims to have ‘The Real Flying Graysons performing from the beyond the grave’. Alternatively furious and hopeful he discretely goes to investigate, and finds himself overshadowed by one of Ringmaster Freakshows ghostly workers, stuck performing as an acrobat for the circus. As Nightwing struggles with his posession and reunion with seemingly the supposed ghosts of his parents, he finds an unlikely ally in Killer Croc/Waylon Jones, who had been kidnapped on his travels back to Gotham after having tried and failed to settle down in Swamp Things swamp.

Unfortunately the pairs cooperation ends shortly after freeing themselves and the completely unneccessary fight allows Freakshow and his assosciates to escape. Nightwing is determined to solve the case himself (and get justice for his dead parents and himself) causing tension between him and Batman who noted his disappearance.

Batman independently investigates,leading him to the Guys in White. Identifying them as an anti-meta group, he brings it to the attention of the Justice League in hopes of organising a legal solution - Superman takes it personally when one of the primary funders is revealed to be Lex Luthor.

Meanwhile Nightwing has tracked Freakshow to a bolthole/lair, where he comes across Val, a woman in a red jumpsuit, who had been following the trail of a different individual - a villain she calls Vlad Plasmius . The pair work together, Val freeing the ghosts in Freakshows control including the Greysons and Nightwing getting a cathartic takedown of both Freakshow and (with borrowed tech) Vlad.

Their partnership and the greater plot behind the villains actions goes over Nightwings head as he recognises 'not his circus, not his monkeys’ and opts to leave it to his new friend.

Meanwhile Clark Kent has discovered an odd exchange of info/money/tech between the GIW, Lex Luthor and a strange inventor who loudly proclaims that he is Technus. The end goal seems to be to create suits that will be secretly under Lex Luthors control capable of rivalling heroes, so as to supplant heroes as beloved protectors of the world, as a step in ridding the world of independent metas like superman and getting him his own private world army.

Also meanwhile Batman has continued to investigate GIW/Freakshow leading him to Amity Park, where he witnesses young adult Sam Manson inadvertently vitalise plants during a local eco protest. When persistent digging leads to learning about the overgrowth incident, Batman reaches out to Harley for her thoughts on how mentorhip might positively/negatively effect her struggling but mostly reformed partner Poison Ivy. Batman uses his Brucie Wayne persona to assist in organising an eco activism initiative (and plant meta power mentorship) with the Mansons, with Sam taking a guiding role.

Supermans battle against Lexs + Technus mediated ghost/meta power suits goes poorly and he calls in for rescue. Recognising the issues from his research in Amity, Batman 'borrows’ tech from the Fentonworks before going to the rescue.

With the day saved Batman returns to update his records on ghosts and store his new tech, finally leading to Nightwing explaining a bit of his experiences to add to the records.

The story ends on the cliffhanger of Danny getting screwed over by Batman’s improved antighost protections when he went to try track down and collect the stolen weapons.

I had fun with this : )

[badbookopinions]

The School for Good Mothers - Jessamine Chan

A: This book is normally described as the Handmaid's Tale for women's souls instead of bodies. I liked this book even better than the Handmaid's Tale; I read it in one day, feeling genuine anxiety about it, and immediately recommended it to a few people.

Frida Liu is struggling - her career is at a dead end, her husband has left her for a younger woman, and although she adores her daughter Harriet she hasn't recovered from post-partum depression. After a lapse in judgement and a CPS call, she's brought to the attention of a new government program; an instutution that will measure her mothering ability to see if she deserves to get her daughter back. (adapted from the cover summary)

I found this book through my public library, so I walked in with no expectations, and it blew me out of the water. I think it's a valuable read even if you aren't a mother or planning to become one - I'm certainly not, and I still had an anxiety stomachache all throughout reading, hoping Frida would succeed.

The ridiculously high expectations placed on mothers was so chilling to read, but what also scared me was the amount of surveillance. In the beginning, to see if Frida is truly sorry, they place cameras all over her house to observe her, and decide that by her body language she is too selfish to be allowed Harriet back unless she goes to this program.

I also think Chan does a fantastic job dealing with race - many of Frida's insecurities come from the fact that her Wasian kid is now being raised by her white father and his new white wife, who is trying to supplant her. Her Asian parents are scrutinized and blamed for not raising her in an American way, and Chan never lets you forget it's even harder for Black and brown mothers.

I think people might have different opinions on this, but this book did something I'd never seen before - it would build up to a climax, skip over the result, and come back in during the fallout. It made you feel just as powerless as Frida did.

Plot: excellent. I was thinking a lot about the Handmaid's Tale as I read it, which took me a while to get into, and I think this book has better forward motion - you need to find out if she gets Harriet back, and even during sideplots, Frida's own urgency propels you along, as well.

Characters: Frida is complex, angry and selfish and longing for love. I was also surprised by the depth of my hatred for her ex-husband and his new wife, and my fondness for Emanuelle. I don't want to speak too much about Emanuelle - her reveal was one of the best moments of the book, and I don't want to spoil it - but oh man. Genuinely horrifying. I found the romance weak, but I think I was supposed to.

Setting: horrifying! The constant surveillance, the brainwashing, the hopelessness of realizing just how the system is stacked against Frida. Very 1984, very Handmaid's Tale. Of course, it's a lot easier to write something derived from the Handmaid's Tale than it is to write the Handmaid's Tale, so I'm not throwing a stone at a wasp's nest and saying that Chan is better than Atwood. (I did enjoy this more though.)

Prose: effective.

Diversity report: a Chinese main character, well-written women, and queer characters, although I'd have been interested to see a non-cis parent, which we didn't.

[ampleappleamble]

Heritage Hill. Dyrford. Brackenbury Sanitarium. She was starting to wonder if she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Axa had just finished off her third goblet of the Goose and Fox's most modestly priced wine and was considering a fourth, seeing as her hands were still shaking– so badly, in fact, that she'd spilled her pipe on the bar twice while trying to refill it– when she felt a presence at her side take the stool next to her. She didn't even have to look to know who it was: no one else in her party smelled as good as Aloth, moved as daintily as he did. "Forgive me; I know you're probably loathe to entertain company at the moment, else you'd not have left the table to sit up here by yourself," Aloth murmured, sliding into his seat. "But gods' mercy, I just couldn't take it anymore." He planted his elbows on the slick, well-polished wood of the bar and buried his face in his hands. "I understand that my... ailment is an unusual one, but why must they pry so?" "Welcome to my world." Her voice was thick and rough, the wine and smoke gumming up her throat as well as her mind, and hearing herself speak was enough to help her decide against that fourth drink. So instead she lowered her head to the bar and gently rested it against her outstretched arm, regarding the elf at her side with sympathy and curiosity in equal measure, hoping to forget her own burdens for a bit by focusing on someone else's.

As it had turned out, he hadn't been entirely dishonest with her before– his uncouth, vulgarity-laden outbursts of Hylspeak actually had been a problem beyond his control ever since his childhood, and one for which no healer in Aedyr would have had a cure. But the cause of his compulsion was not some medical mystery or mental affliction. After the Leaden Key acolyte had unwittingly revealed to Axa the cult's machinations in the city and beyond, after they'd escaped the catacombs and staggered to the nearest tavern to process and recuperate, Aloth had gathered every ounce of courage he could muster and, at long last, he'd told them about his Awakening. About her. Her name was Iselmyr. The soul that now dwelled within Aloth Corfiser had belonged to her some centuries hence, and if her rustic accent and colorful colloquialisms were anything to go by, her life had been a rough-and-tumble series of drinking binges and late night fistfights in the bucolic paradise of the ass-end-of-nowhere Aedyran countryside. Unlike the fleeting, nebulous recollections from her past life that Axa's Awakening afforded her, Aloth's past life had manifested in him as an entire separate personality– this bold, coarse woman born again in his body, who forced his own personal will aside at times and supplanted it with her own. Hence the Hylspeak, the surly temper, the rude language that occasionally spouted forth from such a mild-mannered academic as Aloth. She'd been shooting his mouth off at anyone who pissed her off since he was a boy, and he'd been searching for a way to permanently silence her for just as long. He heaved a heavy sigh, briefly massaging his temples before dropping his hands to the bar. "If I was ever anywhere near as annoyingly intrusive with my inquiries about your Awakening as they've been about mine, I deeply apologize. Sagani and Pallegina are courteous enough to take a hint and mind their own business, but Edér and Kana... Those two boors would have me call her out to play, like she's some damned parlor trick and not the scourge of my existence for the past five decades...!" Aloth paused suddenly as an argument with his other half erupted inside him, the effort to keep Iselmyr from usurping his body slowly driving color into his cheeks, his eyes twitching and bulging behind his tightly shut eyelids, veins throbbing in his brow. Finally, he choked out a breath, panting and sweating, and raised a trembling hand to summon the bartender. "Gods, she's persistent tonight!" He ordered a glass of wine for himself, turned to Axa, one eyebrow raised in an unspoken offer. She grimaced and shook her head, burgundy curls spilling across the bar, and he shrugged, accepting his drink and sliding the barkeep some coin. "I've gotten stronger over the years, better at maintaining control. But evidently, she's gotten stronger, too." "What happened to you, anyway? When you were a child, to Awaken you?" Axa lifted her head, planting her chin in the palm of one hand. "I somehow doubt your Awakening was also caused by a strange machine and an eerily familiar black-robed cultist." The look he gave her in response probably would have made her feel guilty were she not so deep in her cups and pipe, but as it was, she only smiled sheepishly as he glared at her, disgust and betrayal plain on his face. "You, uh... you don't have to answer that if you don't want to," she assured him. Aloth glowered at the orlan a moment longer before relenting with a sigh, the guarded hostility on his face replaced suddenly with resigned weariness. "No, it's– it's fine. I figure I probably owe you some answers after what I've put you through, anyway." He downed his glass in one smooth motion, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he did. "...And you've tolerated my nosiness more than once yourself. It's only fair you should get a straight answer out of me every now and then." "'Trust is a double-edged sword, gift and burden both to friends and allies.' My father taught me that one." Axa smiled up at him, hoping she looked more like a supportive listener and less like the sloppy drunken fool she suspected she looked. Aloth winced as he set his goblet back on the bar, applying a bit more force than was necessary. "He sounds a wise fellow, your father. My own father's lessons were... somewhat harsher." Axa straightened up in her seat, halfway to sober almost instantly. The color had all but drained from Aloth's face, leaving the elf pale and haggard, his voice soft and tremulous. "He was employed as an arcane knight, stewarding an erl in the Cythwood, and as his only son– his only child– it was my duty to follow in his footsteps." He gazed into the empty goblet, picturing it full again, hating himself for wishing it so. "He was quite demanding in his expectations of me, even when I was very young. And when I fell short of those expectations, as children are apt to do, he... was not shy about making his displeasure known. Especially after a drink or six." "He'd beat you." A cold rage bloomed in Axa's belly and chest, her little hands clenched into fists atop the bar. "He'd get drunk, and he'd beat you." Aloth struggled to look anywhere else, at anything but the woman next to him. "He... yes. Yes, he would. And although I can't recall the exact details, on one such occasion he was a bit... overzealous about it. So much so that– well, I suppose he must have beaten her out of me. Struck her Awake, so to speak." He toyed nervously with the stem of his goblet, his lips a thin, bloodless line. "To his credit, that was the last time he was physically violent with me. Although it certainly wasn't the last time he put voice to his discontent with my performance as a student of the arcane. Nor was it the last time he drank himself to debasement. As far as I know, it's still his custom to drown himself with liquor as often as his budget allows." The wine sat heavy in Axa's stomach as she considered his words, eyed his empty cup. "And where was your mother during all this?" "Away working, usually. She was in a haemneg– a sort of symbolic marriage between folk and elf, more a business partnership than anything– to a landed thayn some five days' ride from home. In truth, that's where the greater part of our family's finances were earned." He gave in at last and signaled to the bartender for a refill, grimacing as he did so. "Although to my father, the fact that his wife supported our family better than he could was just one more reason to get into his bottles." He'd fixed his gaze into the bowl of his goblet, and as the barkeep finished pouring and the wine settled, he saw his father's face sneering back at him in his own reflection. The two kith sat in silence for a while, Aloth sipping at his drink and twiddling his thumbs, Axa puffing on her pipe and scratching at a rough spot on the bar, both wondering what they should say next while hoping the other would say something first. He wondered if he'd said too much. She wondered if she ever should have said anything at all. In the end, Axa broke first. "I'm sorry," she blurted, stomach and head heavy from drink and grief alike. "No one deserves that sort of treatment from their own family, least of all in their most tender years. I mean, my own family situation wasn't exactly smiles and sunshine all the time in my youth either, but..." "It's all in the past now," he replied, finally turning to look at her. "Water under the bridge. But I do appreciate your sympathy all the same, truly. Thank you for listening." He forced a small smile, but when she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found he didn't really need to force it after all. Cor, laddie, next ye'll be invitin' 'er up to yers fer a tumble– Axa chuckled as she slid off of her stool, catching herself on Aloth's elbow and taking a moment to get her feet beneath her while he gritted his teeth against Iselmyr's perverse delusions. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me. Wael knows it's not always easy to talk about past hardships, not even when you trust the one you're telling. But I'm glad you've judged me worth the risk." Her smile broadened, hand lingering on his forearm, and he didn't quite know what to make of that. "Hopefully we can both find out a little more about our Awakenings at the sanitarium tomorrow– after we've attended to a few other matters first, of course." She patted the satchel at her side, the animancy research for the Knights safely tucked within. "Of course," he murmured, knuckles white with tension as he grasped his cup. "Tomorrow." She gave his arm a little squeeze– gods, was she blushing? No, no, she was just flushed from the wine, surely– before excusing herself and sauntering away, clambering up the stairs to sleep it off in the party's rented room. Her meeting with the Leaden Key had given the Watcher little in the way of answers, but more than enough new leads to chase down, and it seemed she intended to do so with vigor. Aloth only hoped– –only hopin' she disnae suss out yer other grand secret, aye? Iselmyr's voice held little of its usual bite, her crude little barbs replaced with what felt like at least partly genuine concern. Nae afore ye can tell 'er yerself, leastways? He lifted the goblet to his mouth, careful to avoid glimpsing his reflection in it again. "If we should be successful in our endeavors, I hope to never have to tell her at all." Oh, fine figurin' there, lad, his long-suffering other half sighed. As e'er. —

[trophywifejimgordon]

The phone clicks off, and it’s all they can do to sit there in silence for a few seconds. Johnny is looking at Daniel all weird, eyebrows raised like he’s got something to say but isn’t sure he wants to say it and risk ruining their shaky truce or whatever the fuck this is. 

Characteristically, it doesn’t take very long before he can’t seem to help himself, though.

“...Wow. It’s like you want her to divorce your ass.”

Daniel bristles. “Whatever, Johnny. Amanda and I are very happy, okay? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, man, ignore the signs if you want to. Not my couch you’re gonna be crashing on when she slaps you with those papers.”

Dropping his feigned nonchalance with this line of thought (perhaps because, finally, Johnny seems to have managed a hit just a little too close to home), Daniel turns himself bodily, facing Johnny with the full force of his expression, deeply unamused.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to acknowledge your expertise on the topic. Please, tell me more about how to ruin a marriage.”

Instead of rising to the bait, Johnny just scoffs with a shit-eating grin, never even taking his eyes off the road. “I’m not divorced. Shannon and I never even got married.”

For a second, Daniel forgets the fight he was supposed to be gearing up for, anger supplanted momentarily by an undeniable curiosity about this new information.

“What, really? You’re--what, you’re Shannon’s baby daddy? Wow, that’s...” he snorts. “Sorry, man, that’s actually pretty sad.”

Johnny flicks his eyes off the road (finally) for just long enough to glance at Daniel, but if he’s offended by the comment, he doesn’t show it. “Not as sad as it’s gonna be when Amanda takes your dignity in court, dude. I’m serious--you’re not man enough for bachelor life. You gotta start looking for a new woman now, or you’re gonna fall apart like soggy bread after the whole thing’s over.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, trying to cover the way he had just barely frozen when Johnny’s words inadvertently struck bone.

“Is that a proposal?” he finally manages, voice dry.

The words sound more smug than they feel.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 2

Hello, and once again, welcome back to midnight Striga! Thanks for reading!

With a shout, Eda gripped the arm, slamming the attached body onto the ground. Looming over the hooded figure now gasping on the ground, Eda growled. “Now listen here you sneaky bastard, I don’t know who you are but you caaaaaaannnnnnn!?” She trailed off from her threat, shock rising as the hood fell back.

“Oh, hello, Edalyn!” The old woman cheered, flipping herself up and onto her feet. In a blink, she rushed in, pulling a frozen-stiff Eda into a bearhug. “I have so much news to tell you about!”

Luz blinked, eyes flicking between the two, before the features clicked. Eyes widening, she shot Eda a look. “So… this is your mom?” She asked, pointing at the woman.

Shaking herself back into the present, Eda groaned, lightly shoving the woman away. “Yes, unfortunately.” Giving a deep sigh, Eda turned to Luz, gesturing to the woman next to her. “Luz, meet my mother, Gwendolyn Clawthorne, and one of the single most recurring pains in my butt. Speaking of which,” She turned to Gwen, scowling, “What do you want, mom?”

Gwen gave a beaming grin, tilting her head in apparent thought. “Is it really such a shock that a mother would want to see her daughter?” She asked, neither aware of the way Luz tensed at her question. Both Gwen and Luz reeled back at the response she got, however.

“Yes.” Eda bit out, intense bitterness coating her voice. Standing firm, she put both hands on her hips, head tilted up in anger. “Everytime… EVERYTIME!! You’ve visited me since I’ve been living on my own, it’s been to try some cockamayme cure for my curse. And they. Never. Work!! So yeah, I’d say it’s reasonable to be a little skeptical.” She finished, panting slightly at the exertion of her outburst, lightly covering part of her wrist, and the feathers underneath.

Luz desperately held in the urge to shout at Eda for talking about the woman before her like that, but she could grudgingly admit to seeing where she was coming from. However, neither of them were fully prepared for Gwen’s reaction. Gwen gave a tired sigh, a sad smile forming across her features. “I do suppose I deserved that.” She chuckled, reaching up to Eda’s face, tracing a hand across her jaw, much to her daughter’s discomfort. “I promise, Edalyn, I just want to talk. That’s all. Please?”

Eda bit her lip, conflicted. On the one hand, she was sick and tired of being burned by her mother’s antics… and on the other hand, she was sick of her family being in pain, and was honestly wanting to have genuine quality time with her mother for once. Deciding to take the risk and just bite the bullet, Eda sighed, relenting. “Okay, fine! We can talk.” She said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Turning a raised eyebrow to Luz, Eda asked, “You want in on this, kid?”

Seeing the two witches giving her matching looks of inquisitiveness, Luz blinked, before rapidly shaking her head. “Oh no!” Pointing to Eda, she continued, “You need this a lot more than I do at the moment, and, if that brief back and forth was any indicator, the two of you have enough issues to work through WITHOUT me being thrown in.” She stated, stepping back, arms raised. Shooting Eda a brave smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll just make a day of it in town. I mean,” she shrugged, “I’ve kinda got to get used to people being suspicious of me in public all over again, why not start now?”

Coming to an agreement (“If you die, I’m selling all your stuff!” “Love ya too, Eda!), the group headed their separate ways, promising to catch up later. Gwen giddily dragged Eda along, who was personally torn between annoyance at the manhandling, and amusement at her mother’s amusement. “Yeesh, calm down, Gwen! You’re gonna rip my arm off!” Eda half-joked. Gwen’s yanks actually did have a real chance of removing her arms, but it’s not like that was a problem with her condition, really.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I’m just so excited!” Gwen squealed, a sheepish grin filling her face. “I just…” Her smile turned sad, “I just really wanted to see you.”

Eda gave her own sad laugh. “Don’t worry, I can understand the feeling.” Her mind flashed back to how she was after she and Raine split up, all the nights she wished they were back, wanting to see them. A thought came to her. “Hey, I just noticed… where’s Hawksley?” She asked.

Gwen gave her a mischievous wink. “Oh, he’s just looking after our other guest.”

Eda shot her a look of bafflement. “Other guest!? What are- oh no.” She groaned, as realization set in. Turning her gaze, she was in no way surprised to see Lilith, glumly slumped over a table before them, Hawksley perched on top of her head. What did shock Eda, however, was the bottle of Appleblood Lilith was chugging. Turning accusing eyes towards an unrepentant Gwen, Eda shouted. “SERIOUSLY!?”

Cheerfully whistling to herself, Luz strolled along, using the noise of her whistling to tune out the whispers and muttering all around her. It was honestly a neat trick, but she was well aware it wouldn’t work forever, especially if she ended somewhere more crowded. Scanning the area, Luz was disappointed, if unsurprised, by the sight of parents tucking their kids behind them as she moved past. It hurt. It was understandable, but it still hurt.

Sighing, Luz slipped into the shadows, rolling her eyes when the sounds of the main streetside picked up in volume at her ‘departure.’ Still, the sheer amount of gossip was entertaining, if only for the wild speculations and rantings of the more… colorful members of the local communities. Seriously, her? A shapeshifting giraffe seeking to supplant the Emperor through a false army of Abominations wrapped in Illusions? Pfft! She was gonna have to tell Eda that one, preferably when she was trying to drink something!

Laughing internally at the thought of an Owl Lady Spit Take, Luz tightened her movements against the wall. Her ears pricked at the sounds up ahead; it didn’t sound like the usual rampant paranoia. And if she focused enough, she was almost certain…

“Look, I know things are… really crazy right now.” Amity’s voice sounded out, confirming Luz’s suspicions. “But I honestly think this’ll be good for all of us. The Moonlight Conjuring is an important aspect of our culture, and is a funtime all around. If you all show up while it’s still daylight, nothing should go wrong.” Moonlight Conjuring? Hmm… something to talk with Eda about.

“B-But what if those Oroboros creeps attack again!? I can’t put my parents through that!” An unfamiliar voice questioned, concerned murmurs of agreement sounding in response.

Amity’s voice sighed. “I… I know it’s scary. The things I saw at the Covention, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget, not entirely.” Her voice took a melancholy note, before firming. “But in a way, that’s why we have to do this!” At the sounds of confusion, she continued. “That attack was supposed to make us afraid, to make us all panic. Something that it’s managed in spades all across the Isles. But for all that Oroboros is powerful, it’s an organization with a finite amount of resources. They can’t be everywhere at once, and no organization would commit precious resources to attack a party for school youths!” The nervousness died down, replaced with cautious contemplation. Luz gave a little smirk; Miss Blight apparently had a way with words, and some serious charisma if they were already changing their tune.

“I’ll go.” A familiar voice said. It took Luz a moment to place it; it was the voice of that girl who Boscha had burned! Her voice spoke up again. “If you can find someone to protect us, just in case, I’ll go.”

“W-Well, that’s fantastic!” Amity said, faux-excitedly. If Luz had to guess, her friend speaking up had caught her flat-footed, and she was trying to get things under control. “And I know just the person to do so! If you all show up before sundown, I promise, on the Blight name, you’ll all have an amazing time!” At that, all potential opposition crumbled, a chorus of agreements and cheers going up. As sounds of footsteps headed off, Luz peaked around the corner. She saw Amity, jerkily waving goodbye to her… friends? Acquaintances? Her face stretched into a plastic smile. 

Suddenly, Amity rammed her head against the wall, knocking her forehead against the stone repeatedly, frustrated grumbles coming forth. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Oh, I’ll find someone to guard us, everyone! Leave everything to Amity, everyone! I swear it on my family name!” She slapped her hand against her face. “Titan, what was I thinking!?”

“I don’t think you were.” Luz dryly noted, walking out from her pseudo-hiding place. Amity leapt back, startled. Luz noted how quickly she shifted into a ready position, one arm pulled back to cast, the other slightly pressed forward to defend herself, legs prepped to spring to either side and out of the way. She was honestly impressed, the girl had some athletic experience.

“Oh! It’s you!” Amity exclaimed, relaxing slightly, if not fully. “Luz, correct?” She said, more than asked, extending a hand for a shake. Smirking, Luz complied, giving the girl a firm grip, Amity’s eyes widening at the painless pressure. Schooling her features into a cordial smile, she grinned. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Really?” Luz asked, blinking rapidly. She had honestly not been expecting that. She cocked her head. “I kind of expected you to be some level of scared of me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, what you represent terrifies me.” Amity said frankly, the sheer honesty in her voice drawing a surprised snort out of Luz. “However,” Amity continued, her eyes focusing on Luz. “I gained a look into your measure during the Covention. You are wild, independant, and freely and liberally resort to violence even faster than Witches and Demons do. But you’re also loyal, caring, compassionate, and understanding, with a strong sense of duty. While I find you puzzling, your traits are those that I find commendable.”

“HA! Glad to hear.” Luz smirked. Her face shifted into a serious frown, contemplative. “You know, I overheard your little problem. So,” She grinned cheekily, “You need to find a bodyguard, eh?”

“Ugh! Please don’t use that phrase!” Amity near-pleaded, hiding her face in her hands. “My family has been going nuts over my safety. I am honestly lucky that they let me go into town without an armed guard of Abominations!”

Luz snorted, blinking at the mental image of Abominations skulking around Bonesburough, scanning for threats and hovering over an annoyed Amity. “Wow, over-protective, much?”

Amity exhaustedly nodded. “Yeah. My parents… aren’t the best, but they do care about me. Even if they care about our image more.” She said, muttering the last part spitefully. Shaking her head, she refocused on the original topic. “But yes, I need someone who’s willing to stand guard for me and those I plan on inviting to my Conjuring.”

“What about me?”

Amity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What about having me be your guard?” Luz elaborated, shrugging. “I’ve got combat experience, free time, and you won’t have to pay me!”

“That’s-!” Amity started, before pausing. She brought her fingers to her chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “That could actually work.”

“Really?” Luz asked, cocking her head. “The offer was serious, but I wasn’t actually expecting you to agree.”

Amity gave a grave smile, nodding. “Indeed, I’m willing to agree to this. If you don’t have any requirements?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

Luz paused, thinking. “If you could invite Willow and Gus, I’d really appreciate it.” She finally said.

“Done.” Amity said decisively, typing up the messages on her scroll. “That honestly works out rather well; ever since their actions at the Covention, their popularity has sky-rocketed and my friends have been wondering about meeting with them so this is an excellent opportunity. If that’s all, I will see you at my home before sunset; you can ask Willow and Augustus for directions.” WIth that said, she turned on her heel, marching off. Luz shook her head at Amity’s antics, before turning to leave herself. Neither noticed the group of individuals perched on a nearby building, the apparent leader’s eyes tracking Luz’s every movement.

“Of course,” Eda muttered, staring in resignation at the sight of her sister, chugging away on the table in front of her. Shooting an accusing stare towards Gwen, Eda moodily stomped over, plopping herself down from across her sister, glaring at her.

“EeeeDalyn?” Lilith blearily asked, words slurring slightly. She hiccuped, bottle awkwardly cradled in her hand, the other bracing her against the table. “Since when are you purple?” She muttered.

“Purple?” Eda said incredulously. She turned to Gwen, concerned. “Is it me, or is she…?”

“Absolutely wasted? No, it isn’t you, she really is.” Gwen noted dryly, casually yanking the bottle of Appleblood out of Lilith’s hands, ignoring her weak protests. “I dragged her out of her barracks, kicking and screaming. I believe a few of the Coven Guards who tried to stop me may be in need of Healing. Now, we are going to take the time to stop, think, and figure things out. As a family.” She said firmly, arms crossed.

The bitter snort came from Lilith, of all people, much to Eda and Gwen’s shock. “A-A family.” She chuckled, swaying lightly. “Is that what we are?” She laughed again, slapping the table. “And here I thought we were a bunch of strangers, pretending we CaReD about each other!!”

Gwen and Eda shared unsettled looks. Gwen hesitantly spoke up. “Now, Little Flea, I know I’ve been… distant, but-”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!!” Lilith shrieked, eyes wild, before calming down. “I-I haven’t been ‘Little Flea,’” She muttered derisively, “Since you abandoned me!” She accused, fist pounding against the table.

“Abandon!?” Eda exclaimed, confused and alarmed at her estranged sister’s behavior. “Sis, I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but how has Gwen abandoned you?”

Eda reeled back at the bitter anger in Lilith’s face. “She never came to my induction into the Coven, did you know that?” She said, “She never showed up for any of my promotions, any of my awards, anything!! She just, up and left!” Lilith laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “And here, I learned that she’s been visiting you for Years!! Trying to cure you!”

Gwen’s eyes grew misty. “I have made mistakes, and I apologize for that, Lilybug.” She said, reaching out towards Lilith, unconcerned when she slapped her hand away. “You were always so strong, so independent. I never meant to ignore you. I’m sorry if I hurt you because of it. But that’s why I dragged you both here!” She pleaded, glancing at the two of them. She wrung her hands in nervousness. “I just didn’t want to fail the two of you again. I know I can’t fix the pain between the two of you, and I don’t expect to. I just wanted to get you two together to hash out some ground rules, if that’s okay?” She explained, a hesitant note at the end

Eda and Lilith shared a glance, a moment of grudging understanding passing between them.

Eda turned to her mother first. “Okay, I guess we can do that. But if you’re serious about being in my life for real, I don’t want you coming around with crazy cures anymore.” Her voice took on a tender note. “If you’re gonna come over, I just want it to be so we can spend some time together, okay?”

“And I’d prefer you to visit me AT ALL!” Lilith shouted, some of the slurring fading from her voice. Eda was honestly surprised at how quickly she was recovering; a glance at her neck, and the Healing Glyph tagged onto it explained much; it was forcibly purging the Appleblood from her body, getting her back to normal. Eda winced; Lilith was going to feel like HELL when that thing wore off. “I want you to visit me, ask me about my day, take an interest in my Life!!” Tears pricked at Lilith’s eyes. “I want my mother back!” She pleaded.

Gwen turned a watery smile towards the two of them. “I think I can manage those requests.” She said, a pleased smile on her face. She grew serious. “Now then, If we are going to act like a family, as a whole that is, I am going to be doing my motherly duties, and establishing some rules for the two of you.” She stated, nodding even as her daughters groaned. She continued, ignoring their annoyance. “The rules are simple; Eda, you are to no-longer deliberately antagonize Lilith. If the two of you run into one another, you are to keep a civil attitude and in no way try to anger or upset her. Lilith, you are to cease your attitude in attempting to bring Edalyn in under the guise of being cured. If Edalyn is brought in, it is to be because she is a criminal and flouting the law, not out of an inane desire to cure her. Besides, I strongly doubt Belos would do so in the first place.” She finished, feeling a smug satisfaction at her daughters’ matching look of dumbfounded shock.

“B-But! He promised me!” Lilith said, whined really. “He gave me his word!!”

Eda groaned, even as Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Lilith, Belos’ regime is built on his Coven System, something Eda’s very existence stands in challenge to,” She said gently, “There are no circumstances in which he will EVER cure her. If you bring her in, he will have her thrown into the Conformatorium, and nothing more. He has all the leverage, and all the authority, and you have nothing that could compel him into curing her at your behest.”

Lilith shakily pulled herself to her feet, staggering off, a mumbled excuse echoing as she rapidly walked off, tears in her eyes. Gwen sighed. That had gone about as well as she’d been expecting.

Eda turned an impressed look towards Gwen. “Well dang, Mom! Didn’t know you were such a rebel!”

Gwen shot her daughter an unimpressed look. “I’m not.” She said primly.

Eda had a look of disbelief. “Really? Because you didn’t have a problem calling out Bonehead on his crap.” She said snarkily.

“That is because I am under no delusions as to his nature.” She said, “Belos’ rise to power and initial rule was tyrannical and cold, utterly without mercy. I, and many others, chose to join his burgeoning power because it was literally either him or complete chaos and anarchy. Not everyone can survive it as well as you, Edalyn.” She said archly, almost daring her to protest.

Eda opened her mouth to do just that, but paused, considering. Ultimately, she sighed, pushing herself away from the table. “Yeah, that’s true. I still hate him, and I always will, but I can get why people shacked up with him, even if I disagree with him on principle.” She grudgingly, painfully admitted. Giving her mother a level look. “This, as short, weird, and awkward as it’s been, was nice. I really hope you keep in touch for real, okay?” She said softly, before walking away.

Gwen just smiled, tears of relief and sadness filling her eyes. It wasn’t much… but it was a start.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

Every story has an end. After months of Wanda Maximoff controlling the town of Westview via her reality rewriting Hex, the WandaVision broadcast was dropped along with the barrier. As the barriers were set free and the Avengers rushed in, two confrontations occurred. Witches, corrupt government agents and the inescapable finality of loss all collided in one explosive finale that showed nothing would ever be the same.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

AGATHA: She’d heard enough, seen enough — no more theories, Agatha had all the answers she needed. And that could really only end in one way in her eyes. Wanda had no idea what she was or what she was really even capable of for that matter. Whether or not that made her dangerous was irrelevant — because more importantly : it made her powerful. And if there was anything Agatha had been drawn to after all these years like a moth to a flame, it was power. Power to get out from beneath her coven — her mother — Oh the things one could do with the ability to shape reality. She’d be much more finely crafted with it too, this little world Wanda had created was impressive, but it wasn’t finely tuned. It had it’s kinks and tears — starting with her star contenders falling apart the second it caved. As the witch appeared in the center of the town square, Agatha clawed the air and curled a strike of purple magic at her back. Fitting. the beloved best friend striking her where she least expected it. “Did you know there’s an entire chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold?.” She asked, revealing the grimoire of dark arts before her. Its ember glowing pages flipped to a page for a creature of myth. “—It’s the book of the damned.” A sneer. “The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged — no need for incantation, or coven. Your power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. Your destiny... is to destroy the world. —Don’t believe me?—Here.” Agatha contorted her wrist and like snatching scarlet spiderwebs from her mind, she plucked David free from the crimson witches spell.  “James Buchanan Barnes.” Agatha grinned. “Welcome back.”

WANDA: Every game had an end. Maybe Wanda was the queen of denying the inevitable. The part in her brain that was unable to heal was backed by an excess of power she had never understood. It all made more sense now even though Wanda was fairly certain that she knew nothing at all. Darkhold, runes, spells. The Scarlet Witch. How fitting it was to have that as her true identity. Years of hurt and pain had left her feeling powerless but that was never the case. There had always something inside of Wanda that stopped her from falling back into the abyss. It was power, and she had never known how good it could feel. Her body was sore after being thrown around by Agatha. Everyone seemed to have found their way to the town square, every narrative now connecting into the big picture. These people were captives and the woman holding the key was in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She had been forced down memory lane and had her children almost hurt. Vision and the boys remained in her peripheral as Wanda spun to face the Winter Soldier that Agatha had freed. Her chest was heaving from an earlier display of power, her now shriveled hand extended towards the crowd. “--You were happy. You were fine. I’m sorry.”

BUCKY: Mind control was supposed to be easy - a simple switch flipped and lights out to the occupant. Whatever narrative, whatever brainwashing, whatever storyline created would supplant and override, signaling movements and forcing conversations that were unoriginal and baseless. That was the idea behind it, but for someone who had been submerged and pulled from the depths for decades of his life, James could feel the pull against his mind as he emerged and took a breath. It was alarming and painful, as much as it had been the first time he'd look through his own eyes and saw Sam clearly -- saw Yelena stare at him blankly before slipping into a mindless smile --- the thoughts came back to him in waves as he started dumbly before him, settling back into his skin. Going under was supposed to be easy, coming to was supposed to be easy, but it felt more like he was being dismantled and put back together again. James sucked in a breath and felt his body move forward - his first autonomous movement in only Wanda knew how long. "Happy?" His voice cracked from the rush of frustration and anger - the swell of panic from years of torture much in the way of Wanda's methods. "You think I haven't heard that before?"

WANDA: They would never understand. They would never understand and Wanda couldn’t blame them. Her actions had been wrong. They had been selfish and self satisfying. Her grief had become an excuse but no one would accept it anymore. She swallowed thickly, automatically taking a step back away from Barnes. It didn’t matter that she could easily take him down. Wanda was done hurting innocent people. “I just -- I didn’t mean,” Her words were caught up when Dottie approached, now free as well. Sarah Proctor. Eight year old daughter -- please let her out of her room so I can hold her. Dottie then Herb. Phil. Dennis. The citizens were all there with her accusatory stares and Wanda was unable to ward them off. She tucked her hand against her side, the spot where the magic had been extracted shriveled and brown. “Agatha!” That was a shot towards the sky where the witch hovered. “Stop. Please. Just -- stop.”

BILLY: His ties to reality ebbed and flowed, drawing images of a world he didn't recognize, of feelings and emotions that he wasn't connected to - and Billy had always dismissed them. He'd complained to Tommy a few times, even his mom, but they were always dismissed. Dreams, Billy, they're just dreams. But as he stared at Agnes, he was slowly starting to process the mix of memories. He had them both and could reconcile neither and even as the sky cleared, Billy almost wished he could go back under. Stepping back, he searched for Tommy, that instinct to find a brother he had now grown up with and not tugging at him. He didn't know if he wanted to be here, seeing faces he recognized - Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Magneto -- his eyes traced over heroes and mutants that weren't here to help, but they were all awake, and they'd all been dragged into this hell by his alternate reality mother.

YELENA: A glitch in the code. Wanda said they were happy. That meant they were happy, right? Her face twitched as some of the townsfolk cornered Wanda. She wanted to join in even if she couldn’t quite remember why. None of it made sense but there was one thing that Yelena and the the other unconscious residents knew: Wanda needed to stay happy. People were offering her things but she just took a step up towards the man who was supposed to be her husband ( that felt wrong, for some reason ). She didn’t care where the kids were. They didn’t feel like hers anyway at that moment. “I think you should drop it.”

PETER: Peter had been one of the lucky few in Westview that were granted awareness prior to today, and while he couldn’t say he understood just exactly what people like James had been through, the ordeal they had now shared was certainly something he wasn’t eager to get back to. He however, was probably one of the few that harbored more sympathy for Wanda than anger, and the urge to speak up had never been stronger. But Peter knew he’d be outnumbered in his beliefs and doing so would get him nowhere, despite how much his spidey sense was leaving his stomach in utter knots. So he kept quiet, watching from the sidelines as the woman he’d come to know as Agnes hovered above their heads, ready to strike at a moment’s notice should any harm come to Wanda or any of her family.

SAM: Talk about an escalation. One second he was back on his fuckboy shit and the next he was blinking away a massive magic headache again as Wanda’s spell wore off. It wasn’t just him though. Barnes had already engaged in direct contact with her along with a few residents. There were some still asleep judging by the vacant looks on their faces but the whole shebang was rapidly coming to an end. He joined Bucky and Yelena a step closer to Wanda than he preferred, attempting to give her a tight smile. She looked like she was falling apart. A little satisfying, but they had years of light friendship between them. “No one wants any trouble, Wanda. These people just want to go home. Wouldn’t mind it myself, either.”

BUCKY: Sam's voice had felt a lot like Steve's when he'd first heard it in Romania - a tether to the reality he'd been pulled away from. His gaze didn't waver from Wanda's, even if he wanted to turn and confirm that Sam was a real live person next to him, and not more manipulation by Wanda, but the look on her face, the awareness in the people surrounding her was enough confirmation to keep his eyes trained. "Speak for yourself, Wilson." it was clipped, angry. His fingers twitched as the panic continued to rise in his chest, almost overriding his sensibilities. James knew they just needed to get people out, but he couldn't get past how tired he was of people meddling with his brain.

SAM: Shifting from one foot to the other, Sam shook his head. “Nuh uh, nope. I’m not letting either of us getting erased from reality right now.” They had lost Wanda’s attention but she looked like a deer in the headlights. Only issue was that when she panicked she was liable to take everyone with her. “Parker,” Sam turned to Spider-man. “Good to see you’re with us. You ready for ugly?” Not that he was trying to will it into existence. “I’m hoping we got back-up waiting out there.” Knowing Carol, he was surprised she hadn’t smashed through the barrier like it was a spaceship yet.

PETER: Peter was mildly startled when Sam addressed him directly, his head snapping in the direction of the man in question. “—huh- oh yeah. Of course. I mean, not really. But I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter.” Offering up a smile that slowly began to morph into a grimace, Peter gave Sam a halfhearted salute followed by a not so convincing “Ready when you are, Captain.”

WANDA: They were loud. Their thoughts, their desires. Now, more pressingly: their fear and anger. Norm -- no, Albliash Tandon was talking. When they dreamed - when they were allowed to sleep - they were subjected to her nightmares. This was all a twisted perversion of a fantasy. The people in Westview wanted to die rather than live under Wanda’s thumb any longer and she couldn’t blame them. This was hell on Earth presenting as heaven. Each voice chipped away at her and Wanda crumbled inside. “No, you’re fine.” She reassured them. “You’re fine. I kept you safe in here. You -- You feel... at peace.” A lie. They felt her pain. Wanda was crying and pleading with them like a madman. Her grief was poisoning them. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop Stop. She kept repeating it but they would’t listen. A scream exploded from her chest, hands clutching her face as scarlet tendrils wrapped around their thoughts and everyone in the square dropped. Her children remained off to the side, Agatha in the sky. Wanda didn’t notice any of them as she doubled over. As they writhed and choked, realization set in. “No, stop. Stop.” It took two shakes of her hand before the magic faded. She stared down at them, one whole and one ruined. How had she turned into this? If you won’t let us go, just kill us. No -- no, Wanda would let them go. She’d fix this. And then there was Agatha, goading her. Heroes don’t torture people, The voice of the Witch voice rang out somewhere in her mind above the din. A hero. Wanda was one, past actions excluded. She cared about people. She wanted to change a world that had hurt her. Heroes didn’t hurt people. Wanda was done. Sneakers planted on the ground, Wanda’s spine curved as the force of her magic began to bend her backwards. The column of red energy hit the roof of the Hex and exposed its edges and corners. It felt like ripping a part of herself apart but she still managed a pained, “Get out! Go.”

YELENA: It was incredible to go from being mind controlled into a zombie to being choked out on the street. Her first conscious thoughts were trying to make sure she could breath and then flipping onto her back to blink against the red glow of the Hex. Hex. Barrier. Wanda. With a grunt, Yelena climbed first to her knees and then her feet. Maximoff was there but divided. She was in pain ( not as much as she’d inflected on them though ) and vulnerable. Killing her was tempting, but her belt held no knives or guns. Even though whatever outfit Wanda had forced Yelena into was gone the clothes she had been wearing that night were weaponless. “Блядь,” she spat. “This is where we kill her, isn’t it?”

CAROL: Carol had parked it just a few yards away from the glowing red wall, the force of the magic hot enough to feel like she was standing in front of the sun, but still, she didn't move. She sat with her knees pulled up, forearms resting atop, and she contemplated her options. Behind her, commotion was ongoing as they watched Westview dissolve and they were losing signal because Wanda was losing it and Westview was quickly going dark. It was only a matter of time, and if necessary, Carol would find a way through, even if it pissed Wanda off. She was ready for a head to head. Itching for one. But just as her eyes made the rounds again as she scanned the corners she could make out, the ground beneath her began to shake, responding to a sudden rush of energy. Carol jumped to her feet, the hex splitting open and spilling out light from the other side. She didn't look back, she didn't wait for confirmation. Sending a rush of energy to her feet, Carol shot forward as soon as she saw the trees on the other side, emerging and landing heavily in grass. She didn't even give a glance back - by the accounts she tracked during the observations, she had a pretty good idea where Wanda was -- even if there wasn't a beam of red energy erupting from ground zero.

BUCKY: "Yes." James shoved himself to his feet, the shifting of metal a suddenly phantom feeling as his shoulder accustomed to supporting the weight of his arm again. He didn't even want to think about what else Wanda had changed - what narrative she had forced down their throats. "It sure fucking is."

SAM: Well, shit. The town was glitching. It was rapidly beginning to cycle through the different decades that Wanda had subjected it to. Already in go mode, Sam began waving civilians towards the widening gap. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda could sustain it, but it didn’t look like very long. “No, we’re not going to do that.” He shook his head at Yelena. If she and Bucky wanted to duke it out over who got to deal the final blow, that was awesome for the assassins. Not for Sam though, and he planned on keeping everyone alive. Belova wasn’t pregnant anymore and Barnes had his arm back. His metal arm back, that was. “She hurt more than just us. Right now, our job is making sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else. We get them out of here with her alive. I’m not willing to risk what happens if this barrier comes down on us.”

PIETRO: He’d been standing outside the barrier for what felt like centuries. Each second ticked by like agony as he stared at the sea of red encasing everything he’d ever loved within its clutches. The spread of it was slow at first, crimson stretching apart until it tore — his eyes dropped to the narrow opening just as it shuddered open and he was gone. A deafening boom of sound obliterating the air around him as debris dusted in a wake of blue and silver streaks. He tore through the opening, moving with so much momentum that gravity barely had the chance to acknowledge his presence before he was gone again, across the side of a building in a wide take on the ninety degree angle turn, nothing but a gush of air as he raced down the street. Luna. Crys. Wanda. —Wanda.—Crys. — Luna. wandalunacryslunawandacrys. His mind was racing and then all at once it didn’t matter. She was standing there with their baby in his arms and he slid to a pavement shattering halt with a thunderous snap just thirty feet from them. “Crystalia—“ he appeared in front of her, searching her face—searching Luna’s. “Are you okay??”

HAYWARD: The crack was enough. They were already ready, beyond ready now, as their technology flew out ahead of them, disappearing through the separated barrier to complete its given commands. Hayward packed himself into an armored vehicle and lead the pack of vehicles and tanks as they climbed over the terrain to finally enter Westview. Their concern had little to do with the citizens and more to do with handling the mutant that had created this alternate reality mess. When the truck hit asphalt and entered the town square, he was finally facing down Wanda, depowered and looking exhausted. The town must be empty, he concluded, the citizens fleeing from the twisted story she'd subjected them all to. All that was left was just a minor handful of people, those Wanda seemed closest too considering all the video feeds he'd watched.

AGATHA: Agatha watched the scene before her, floating above the chaos she’d snipped the stitchings to with all the amusement of someone detached and cold. It didn’t really matter to her how Wanda felt. That wasn’t what she was after. “Careful Wanda, your precious babies are tied to this messy little world you’ve created.” Agatha sighed. “Collapse it all now and ..” she tsked “well, look at them. they’re writhing.”

BUCKY: He was seething, struggling to see beyond the slew of memories he had that weren't his -- how happy he had felt, and how that was being soured by betrayal. All he wanted to do was rush forward, even if Wanda snapped him out of existence before he got the chance. But he forced his feet back, forced himself to grab onto Yelena's arm --- something he wouldn't have done under normal circumstances but nothing about this screamed normal -- and started moving away. "This conversation isn't over, Sam." James said with a finality as he turned to usher out the crowd towards the nearest fault in Wanda's wall.

PETER: Peter was suitless, now clad in the same oversized hoodie and baseball cap he���d been wearing the night he was sucked into the hex. Thankfully, however, past Peter had been smart enough to not come unprepared, and present Peter thanked his lucky stars as the familiar feeling of his web shooters materialized around his wrists. Watching James and Yelena nervously, he opted instead to assist Sam in evacuating civilians, using his webbing to pull collapsing debris and obstacles out of the way of the crack in the hex.

DAISY: Daisy had been waiting for the order like everyone else to go into the hex, and as she watched the walls began to collapse she didn’t hesitate to aim her gauntlet covered hands to the ground and sent a shockwave large enough to propel her into the air. It got her far enough to where she was just trailing behind Carol, and she used her powers again to break her fall before breaking off into a sprint towards the town center. As civilians ran past her, she did her best to give them some encouraging words. “You’re all going to be safe soon! Just run towards the edge of the wall as fast as you can!” She didn’t have time to usher people out, though. She needed to find Hayward and stop him from making a strike on Wanda, and everyone else that was still in the surrounding area.

WANDA: It hurt. That was what her mind was focused on. It hurt with every fiber of her being to exert that much energy at once. As the town began to revert and glitch Wanda felt silent tears streak down her face. She deserved this on some level. Her creation and ruination combined. Wanda channeled everything she had into the rectification of her mistake until she felt it. An untethering. There was screaming but then there was the sound of her husband, her sons. They were dying -- again, in  Visions case -- and Wanda wasn’t ready to let them go. There was a scream that left her throat and then the barrier was closing once more. They were tethered, tied. That was mostly true. There was no Vision outside of Westview. The world had saw to that when they took him away from her. But her boys, they persisted. The dissolving aura that surrounded Vision faded away while remaining on the twins. Just like it had happened before they were conceived, a division occurred. Two boys were left coughing on the pavement while their original selves - the older ones - were once again separate. The red faded away and Wanda was left breathless and weak. Even though she felt like she was going to fall over if she took a step she somehow managed to drag herself to her younger boys and her husband. “Are you okay? Look at me -- are you okay?” She grabbed the twin’s by the face, her attention on them and not Hayward’s militia.

SAM: At least everyone was working together. His head tipped in Bucky’s direction as he grabbed the Widow by the arm. Better to let them work it out among themselves. “Didn’t think it was, Bucky.” He turned his attention then towards the current effort. “Hey, spiderthing, you got any reservations about throwing old people?”

TOMMY: He couldn’t quite separate it any more — the younger version of him he’d been combined with and the person he was before, so much so that it was hard to tell which one was falling apart anymore until he finally thought it was just him. All of him being stretched and pulled and ripped away until finally it was like a rubber band snapping and he gasped, staring at a version of himself that didn’t even look like him when he was a kid. “What the fuck?” Tommy said, sitting flat on his ass in the middle of the street. His hands flapped around his torso, checking for—for holes or janky missing parts— maybe parts that weren’t his but nothing, none of that just...him. all him. “...Billy....???” He called out warily.

MONICA: Monica didn’t want to talk about where she had been or her unfortunate experience with Ralph Bohner. That was for another day. Ultimately, she had wasted time getting to the town square. The barrier was closing again but the space had been inundated with familiar faces. “Hey, S.H.I.E.L.D.” She tilted her head towards Daisy as their paths intersected. “Wanda -- is she alive still?”

YELENA: To say she was angry was an extreme understatement. Yelena had been indoctrinated for as long as she could remember. Her entire being had been reduced into being a replacement for a woman who had decided to move on. Yelena was not Natalia. She had learned that over time, even though they had denied her own name. She was her own, and yet, Wanda had erased that. An American. One who made pies and gave a shit about what people thought about her. Yelena was not the pretty one. She never had been. That was Natalia, lithe and delicate. Yelena hid in curved edges. She wasn’t a beauty queen and suburbia was never in her cards. Having someone who loved her was almost as ridiculous. Two assassins as parents? No. She refused to let her hand touch her stomach like it had when she was pregnant. Yelena knew what was there: a scar. no signs of life. She made it approximately five steps before pulling her arm from James’ grasp. “Ты не мой муж, James ( you’re not my husband). Отпустить (let go). I’m not leaving.”

PETER: Peter continued in his efforts of getting civilians to safety as quickly as possibly, but Sam’s voice once again snapped him out of it, “—do I what? You can’t be serious, dude!” Yelena was clearly growing angry pretty quickly and Peter was growing overwhelmed. The sounds of Wanda’s distress mixed with that of utter chaos were almost becoming too much to handle, but Peter stuck to it, launching himself toward the Captain with his webbing and landing beside the man with a soft thud. “You want me to — “ he held up a web shooter and vaguely gestured in Yelena and James’ direction with a shrug.

SAM: “Desperate times, desperate measures, man.” The octogenarians weren’t really moving fast enough and Wanda had finally lost steam. They were going to be trapped but the heroes could at least take care of themselves. As Peter moved to stand by his side, Sam’s shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t speak Russian and I know she can kill me. He could too, but we’re friends. Mostly. Think we let them work it out?”

VISION: It wasn’t the first time he’d felt himself being torn apart at the seams—at the barrier, he’d felt it then. The popping of parts as they flew loose, chunks of reality melting away into stardust and matter. He strained to reach them—his wife, his children. “Wanda!—Boys!” he gritted through his teeth, pushing through an invisible force that allowed no headway. Then all at once, he collapsed, all his pieces flew back into place and he caught his breath. His sons had once again separated into their older and younger selves. “I’m alright.” he assured her, looking to his children for any missing chunks.

WANDA: They were okay. They were fine. Maybe they wouldn’t be in the long haul, but in that moment her family was whole once more. No missing pieces, no slipping away and dissolving into the air. Wanda exhaled a sigh of relief, kissing the top of Billy and Tommy’s heads. The barrier was back in place and they had once again stolen a few extra minutes. “Go home, boys.” Wanda released them. “Get to safety.” Not that anywhere was safe. Their house had been a haven. At the very least it put a few walls between themselves and Hayward’s agents. Wanda had warned them off. She had told S.H.I.E.L.D. to leave her alone but they clearly no longer feared her. No fear, no respect. Wanda was just another obstacle. She squeezed Vision’s hand, relief bubbling in her chest. Wanda had barely made it to her feet when something slammed into her and a vice grip was around her neck. White hands led up white arms and a ivory form. It was the Vision but it was not. There was something cold and calculating about his blue eyes. Even though she had just seen her husband, there was something unsettling about his quiet form. He was achingly familiar. “Vision?” She rasped. He just stared at her before his grip tightened. “And here I thought you were supposed to be powerful.”

PETER: Peter spoke to Sam in a manner akin to a student whispering to his friend in the back of class, careful to not let the teacher catch them, “— yeah, but if we leave them be - won’t they go after Wanda? I don’t know if I can take them both — “

TOMMY: Grabbing his correct twin, Tommy took a fistful of the back of his shirt and raced them both out of Westview before the barrier could close back up.

CRYSTALIA: There was a chance that Crystal was the only one who had willingly entered Westview. She hadn’t really know what she was signing up for but knew she had no choice. The second that Luna had vanished there hadn’t been a single thing in the world that mattered more to her than setting things right. There was a crippling fear that it was Crystal’s fault it had happened in the first place. Realistically she knew Wanda’s powers, but as a young first time mother it all seemed so pivotal on her inability to hold on when it mattered. And so, she entered hell. Crystalia wasn’t a Princess anymore. She had a ridiculous backstory and always felt exhausted even when she smiled. And she was always smiling. Her child screamed and she was helpless to do anything until Wanda fixed it. It felt impossible to say how long it had been, but the second the red cloud began to leave her mind Crystal began to panic. Luna was awake but wasn’t crying. The infant almost seemed solemn. Had Wanda hurt her? Crystal would kill her if so, but the baby betrayed nothing. Everyone in the town square was loud. They were panicking but Crystalia was trying to center herself. She was naturally attuned to the world -- being in elemental meant being grounded. She could feel the vibrations of the earth and the moisture in the air and that was reassuring. That being said, it’s hard to be grounded when your not sister in law decides to choke an entire town out. Crystal had pressed Luna against her, resting the unaffected baby on her chest as she hit her knees. Pietro loved Wanda. Crystal had spent her abbreviated pregnancy watching him all apart. He loved her, but Crystalia hated her. She hated what she had done to her and her daughter. At the thundering sound, the Princess instinctively tucked Luna against herself. Head spinning, she took a step towards her baby daddy Pietro. “It’s you.” As in, not the fake version she had been forced to marry.

SAM: There was a noncommittal grunt. “Bucky, no. He wants to but he knows what we’re focusing on. Yelena, I’m not sure. It would be easier if Nat was here.” Not that the sisters relationship was outwardly anything other than contentious. “I’d say lovers quarrel but that wasn’t real.” Technically their sleeping together was but Sam wasn’t sure if that was public knowledge. “Speaking of lovers, you see a Carol shaped comet yet?”

PIETRO: When they’d vanished he felt the last parts of himself that he’d been clinging to, crumble. Wanda had been rejecting him in more ways than one and ripping his new born and Crys from him just days after Luna had been born had broken something for him that just hadn’t operated right since. His mind loosely drifted to his twin but he was more focused on this—Wanda could handle herself. Right now he needed to hold his daughter and her mother. Pietro pulled both of them against him, tucking Luna between their bodies as he wrapped them in his arms. He felt a breath fully expand his lungs for the first time in weeks. “It’s you.” he said. “Both of you.” He kissed the top of her bright red hair. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

DAISY: Daisy smiled a bit when she saw Monica, glad to see the familiar face. “S.W.O.R.D.” She breathed out in a sigh of relief before she stopped in her tracks and nodded as she pointed over towards the big red beam in the sky, but then it faded again and her head tilted to the side. The borders were closing, but thankfully she seemed to still be in her right of mind. For now, at least. “Where the hell is Hayward?”

CRYSTALIA: Folding into him, Crystal allowed herself to take a shaky breath. She wasn’t sad, only angry. Her child had been endangered for no reason at all. “It’s me. As of a few minutes ago, at least.” There was the sharp curl of humiliation in her stomach at the thought of who Wanda had forced her to be. Her family had to be worried. She was an adult but she’d always be the baby of the family -- forever the princess, never the queen. It was a miracle that the Inhumans hadn’t taken any kind of action against Wanda. Or, she assumed they hadn’t. Although it was nearly physically painful, Crystalia angled her body to offer Pietro his daughter. “She hurt us.” It was hard to explain the feeling. “Every second. Just grief. But you, you were there.” Wanda mourned her brother. Maybe she knew Crystal’s connection to him and let her share in that sorrow. Falling silent as her processing spun slowly, the Inhumans brows furled. “She had me get married to some knock off version of you who smelled. I had to live with him.” Not that he cared or was attentive. It was just part of the game.

BUCKY: James stopped, giving the collapsing Hex a glance before he shifted his gaze to her. "И что вы будете делать, Yelena." and what will you do? He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to deal with it. With regret already settling into his skin, James bent and scooped Yelena up by her hips, hinging her over his shoulder, his metal arm tight around her waist. He knew he was taking her choice from her just minutes after she'd gotten it back, but she could take that out on him outside of Wanda's hell fantasy. He followed Sam and the rest.

PETER: Peter was shocked to notice James scoop Yelena off her feet and carry the assassin to the break in the Hex, but he didn’t question it, gaze instead flicking to the sky to check for any sign of the Carol shaped comet. “I don’t know? Thought I saw her earlier, Quake was nearby too — she shouldn’t be too hard to spot!” he spoke a bit louder, almost a yell, over the rumbling chaos.

YELENA: Body thrashing slightly, Yelena knew five ways to break his hold that would also bring him to his knees. She knew how to fight back but she was exhausted. Her body didn’t know how to handle going from being pregnant to remembering that it was impossible to exist in that state. “я собираюсь убить тебя ( i’m going to kill you ),” she hissed, knowing that his ear was right by her mouth. Going slack then, the spy allowed him to carry her away from the place she wanted to be and the person she wanted to kill.

VISION: He was flying over Westview, scanning for his wife among the scattered bodies running around below. When he finally passed over their home, he found a startling view: a being, stark white in nature — and worse, he seemed to have Wanda by the head. A visual that sent his vital organs or lack thereof  plummeting to the earth below. Vision rocketed forward, slamming into the other synthezoid with a force that sent them tumbling into the ground like an asteroid. They left a crater in their wake as he carried him far away from his family. Vision threw the synthezoid up, chasing him higher into the sky—farther away from Wanda.

MONICA: “Hayward’s where Wanda is.” Monica replied, knowing it to be true. “He wants Vision and she’d do anything to protect him. That’s where I’m going.” Without waiting, Monica turned to move towards the glowing epicenter with the notion Daisy would follow. As the red column began to die down she hurried her pace into a run until she skidded to a stop. Hayward was looking smug and his shoulders were at the ready. It was then that they fired at the retreating forms of Wanda’s twins and without any hesitation Monica threw herself in front of them. She had been the one to help deliver them. Even if it was all fake, she had handed the newborns to Wanda and watched that love grow. One bullet entered and then the other. There was no pain or skin breaking. For a moment it was just light. It was like breaking through the barrier. Monica felt them enter and exit in a surge of energy. She blinked through a new golden glow, mind trying to comprehend the sight of Vision wrestling what looked like a ghostly version of himself away from Wanda. “It’s over, Hayward.” It was easy to say when you had just tapped into the light spectrum. “It’s done.”

SAM: Holding both hands up, Sam shook his head. They were going to sort it out. The Winter Soldier and White Widow were well equipped for one another. Maybe Belova would try to kill Barnes. He couldn’t see it going the other way. Not that Sam was actively betting on Barnes’ love life. “If you want to go, kid, I don’t blame you. I’m going to stay here though. See if anyone needs help.” Leave no man behind. Sam was trying to be the best Captain he could.

PIETRO: An actual twinge of pain ebbed through him at her words. She hurt us. They echoed through his skull like gun shots. He felt his tongue go dry and his legs go numb as he pulled her to him a little tighter. They weren’t words he’d wanted to hear, but he needed to. The part of him that twitched to run to Wanda in any capacity was subdued by a haunting feeling of guilt. He had missed her but the joy of seeing her again was squandered by pain she’d caused. To his daughter. Crystalia. Him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—I should have protected you.” You never should have been there. I should have stopped her. She should have never done this. The words died on his tongue before they had a chance to form. It didn’t matter. The damage was done. And no amount of words would remedy the scars that had been left. “What can I do?” He asked into her hair, smoothing a hand down her back. At her comment about the awful imposter that had been branded with his name, a subdued scoff of a laugh left his throat. “He smelled, huh? Well at least you don’t like him better.” He mused, an ill attempt at a joke. Of course she wouldn’t have. He’d been awful.

DAISY: Daisy quickly followed suit behind Monica, with absolutely no hesitation. They needed to make their way over there, and fast. There was no telling what Hayward had planned. And sure enough, Daisy ran up just in time to see an ivory tinted version of Vision and the real- er, hex vision flying up into the sky with him. “Shit..” She muttered under her breath as she sped up her pace. And when she ran up to Hayward and saw him opening fire on a couple of kids, her heart sank as she realized that she was too late. She quickly held her hand up and tried to pinpoint vibrations on all of the guns to shake them apart, but the bullets had already exited the chamber. In fact, he fired several rounds before she was able to destroy the guns. But then Monica was throwing herself in front of the kids and Daisy’s eyes widened as she watched the bullets go straight through the other agent. That must have been a new development. And she very quickly quaked most of the bullets in a different direction before they could actually hit Billy and Tommy.  And then, she turned to Hayward and narrowed her eyes before tilting her finger and using her powers to snap all of the bones in his hand and his wrist. “Stand down, now. Or I’ll break a lot more than just that.”

PETER: Peter debated his next move for a few seconds, and while Sam was partly right - he did want to leave, to go home, to call MJ and Ned, and make sure everyone was okay - he also knew what he had to do. He was Spider-Man. Maybe he didn’t quite look like it at the moment, sans suit, but there was no denying it - and there was no walking away from that. “No — I’ll stay, I’ll stay. Just - tell me what you need me to do.”

CAROL: She felt sheer force slam into her shoulder as Carol full bodied the nearest armored truck, smashing it into the nearest one and then cascading that energy through the tank nearest to the rest. It was a calculated move -- they were aiming guns at children and the tank was setting up to fire. Now, she had put enough force and energy through the vehicles that they were little more than metal boxes now as she peeled herself out of the metal and took a moment to crack her back. "You really underestimate us, Hayward." She said casually just before she registered Monica. She didn't have nearly enough time to address that situation before she spotted Sam. She didn't say anything to him, she didn't know what she'd say, so she looked to Monica and Daisy. "Nice teamwork guys. Now. Where's our mutant?"

SAM: Peter was a good kid. They had a strange introduction but Sam could say that about everyone he knew at this point.  He was offering his mouth to respond when the Carol comet he had inquired about smashed into Hayward. Coughing from the dust that rose from the rubble, Sam jutted his chin towards where Wanda was sucking in breath. “Looks like we have a Vision problem.”

LORNA: As it stood, Lorna was positive she was going to go back towards being an only child. Erik didn’t even like Pietro and they had basically just met him. The mutant had come to alongside her father. Her green hair was a dull brown that was only just returning to its normal hue. It felt ridiculous to be standing in a full cape and headpiece in the middle of the town square, but Lorna had other things to focus on. Carol Danvers ( ugh ) was smashing into Hayward and someone Lorna didn’t recognize was apparently casually breaking his bones. Striding up, green flared around the guns of the soldiers before they snapped in half. The bullets unloaded to clatter pointlessly to the ground. “God, I love guns. More than I love this family at least.”

MONICA: Teamwork made the dream work. Monica had been trained as an agent to learn how to balance working with a group. It made life easier. She became a human target, Carol was Carol and the new Agent was inflicting pain on Hayward that Monica would personally have loved to be responsible for. “She willingly took the barrier down.” Monica said as she strode in Carol’s direction. “But it was killing her family. That was before another Vision showed up. And, also, there’s a witch.”

PETER: Peter watched on in a slight crazed panic, at the scene Sam alerted him to, and a broken smile forced its way onto his face, “Hey then we better get some glasses — you know..? Because - vision problem,” he quipped, regretting even opening his mouth before shaking his head and launching a web toward the wrestling duo, the tendril managing to cling to the bottom of one of the ghostly vision’s feet. Peter gave a sharp tug, but it didn’t appear to do much besides briefly interrupt the fight, “Uhh - what do I do??”

CAROL: "Another Vision?" Carol shot a look at Hayward, but he was too preoccupied dealing with his bones and the loss of his firepower to pay Carol any mind. "Witch?" That also caught her attention. "Another mutant then or?" she didn't know why the questions mattered. They didn't. They'd just been so out of the loop for so long she was itching for answers. "So let's go get her then."

VISION: The sky lit up in an array of blue and gold as the two synthezoid’s went at one another, each determined to destroy the next. In all the thrashing, he kept them steered clear from anyone below. “What are you?”

CRYSTALIA: It was over. Or, at the very least, it almost was. Wanda was out of her mind and the absence of the spell left the clarity of uninterrupted thought. Pietro pulled her even closer and there was a comfort to be found in a firm embrace. He was strong -- maybe not strong enough to stop his sister -- but solid nonetheless. All Crystalia wanted to do was rest. If she broke down it would not be there. Her pride was too persistent. “It’s not your fault,” Crystal shook her head, one hand briefly resting above his heart. “Any anger I have is towards Wanda. There was nothing you could have done.” Once Wanda wanted something no one had been able to stand in her way. There was a hurricane of emotion that could be sorted through later. Right the she just wanted to make sure her daughter was safe. “You can take us home.” Wherever that was. New Attilan or the Avengers Compound. Home was anywhere but Westview. Even then she doubted that she’d sleep well but at least it would be on her own terms. At the mention of “Pietro”, Crystal shook her head. Her hair was down and loose in strawberry curls, fly aways blowing into her face. “He didn’t come around much and he didn’t care about Luna. I can’t even remember marrying him.”

THE VISION: What was he? A good question. He was functional, capable. He was built with a purpose to last. He was, most importantly, real. That was more than the synthezoid he grappled with could say. Their twin bodies phased through one another, mental beams hitting empty air. “I am the Vision.” The reply was simple, syllables plain and straightforward. This was not something he struggled to understand. His being was laid out in code and his object is clear. Body twisting in the air to get a grasp, the synthezoid managed to get hit a hit in that sent his counterpart hurtling through the air and crashing into what appeared to be a library. His descent was slower, cape gently fluttering around his legs as he hovered above the wooden floor. “And I am here to neutralize the Vision.”

DAISY: Once Hayward seemed to have given up, Daisy stomped towards him and grabbed him by the arm, glaring down at him. As she glanced behind her and spotted a couple other S.W.O.R.D. agents who made it through the barrier with them, she practically shoved him towards them and shook her head. "Take Director Dick here back towards the base once the barrier opens back up. We'll deal with the paperwork there." She insisted, and the other two didn't even question it as they got him in handcuffs and loaded him into one of the nearby vehicles. She approached Monica and Carol at the tail end of the conversation. "I'm sorry did you say another witch?" As she glanced up towards the sky, she finally saw the woman who was surrounded by a purple aura and her eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. That's another witch. Let's find Wanda."

VISION: Vision rose to his feet, facing his ghostly counter part once again, head on. He charged at him, tangling them in a web of vibranium limbs, he twisted White Vision into a headlock, stilling them for a breath of a moment. then it occurred to him:  “But I’m not the true Vision. Only a conditional one.”

WANDA: It was time for it all to finally end. Wanda had kept up the ruse for as long as possible but the walls had done more than cave in. There were Avengers - friends - and there had been innocents. Wanda had walked through her reasoning and watched it go down in her minds eye. She had been many things, but fear was the root cause of everything. It all traced back to her fear -- and she was terrified no more. There was just calm resolve as she left Carol and the others with Hayward. Rising into the air so that Westview became a map below her, Wanda gave it her all. She tried to enter Agatha’s mind as the Witch had once done to her. It was a failure of an idea, the coven of witches that Agatha had drained instead turning on Wanda. In some ways she was out of her element, but there was also a part of her that had been waiting for this moment. Agatha wanted to know how she did it? Fine. She wanted her power? She’d let her try to take it. Wanda couldn’t escape her fate. She threw blast after blast and felt her body start to shrivel up. If Agatha wanted it all, she could have it. Red poured from Wanda into Agatha, purple and red mingling. She gave her everything she had until she was left floating with red eyes and withered skin.

AGATHA: Agatha had asked for it — but the funny thing about wishes — you had to be careful with them. After all the universe did like to screw you. Honestly she was a little surprised to see the red witch cave so easily — not that it stopped her from draining her of everything she could. Her magic tasted hellish on her tongue and it filled her with a sense of power she’d only ever sensed in beings of the cosmic scale. Her arms stretched wide as the tendrils of chaos flowed through her—and then...suddenly...it stopped. No. No—that wasn’t right, they weren’t done. Agatha tried to draw more, only nothing happened, not even a sputter of sparks from her finger tips. “What?”

MONICA: “Y’know, I really wanted to be the one who did that.” Monica shook her head. Hayward had taken something her mother had created as a labour of love and exploited it for power. There was a sharp sting of disappointment that she couldn’t be the one who finally got to haul him away in sweet retribution. But this was reality. You didn’t always get to be the hero you wanted to. Hayward had been taken care of and Monica had to be happy with that victory. “Agatha Harkness. Turns out Agnes wasn’t just a nosy neighbor.” They had only interacted marginally. Geraldine had no reason to pay her much attention. “I know where Wanda is.” A finger pointed upwards. “And I’m not getting involved.”

PETER: Peter jogged up to Monica and the others, having just witnessed the immense transfer of power between the two witches, “Does anyone have any idea what’s happening?? I don’t think my web shooters will do any good against that,” he pointed to the sky, worriedly.

REMY: Plenty of them had stood at the border, waiting for something more than silence and occasional updates on the happenings of inside. But then the Hex had fractured and teams had been ordered in for extraction - save the people, evacuate the town - and Remy had done his best to follow that order, but he didn't know how to be a hero. Not really. Not in the selfless capacity. He slipped down back alleyways to avoid the crowds of people and just followed where they were fleeing from until he emerged in the center of the town. There were trucks, SWORD had made it in, and a few stray heroes were incapacitating them. But his attention was drawn elsewhere, because goddamit he was tired of the loss and gain of their relationship. "You gonna keep making me chase you down?" he said, just loud enough to grab Lorna's attention. "I'm starting to wonder if it's on purpose" there was no immediate threat, nothing he could attack, even if they, and he, were still on high alert. And this was the only way he could manage because presently, he wasn't managing well at all.

CAROL: Carol followed Monica's gaze and she almost shot a load of energy into her boots but forced herself to stay planted. As much as she wanted to engage, it would be out of her own selfishness, not because she was needed. "Fine." she looked straight at Monica. "You wanna explain to me what the hell is going on with you then?"

DAISY: "He's all yours once we get back to the base." Daisy insisted, knowing that Monica would love to be the one who did his official intake. She may have let her anger get the best of her back there once she saw him firing at those kids, but then she was reminded of those bullets floating straight through Monica like she wasn't even solid matter. And then Carol mentioned it and Daisy couldn't help herself from commenting too. "That was really brave of you back there. Stupid, but brave. Did you even know you would be able to do that? That's new, right?" She didn't remember powers being mentioned at all when it came to Monica.

PIETRO: It didn’t matter whether or not it was his fault, he didn’t do his job. Against the one person he should have been best at it. Her words stung, but he understood where they were coming from. She had a right to be angry — he was still angry. Loving Wanda more than he could handle didn’t exclude him from holding her accountable. You can take us home. He nodded, relief flooding him to know they’d be sleeping under the same roof tonight. They were alive and well and his. He smoothed the stray pieces of her red hair from her face and kissed her. “Then don’t. Marry me instead.” He proposed. It seemed to come from no where, but he’d been thinking about it before. He’d only stopped himself because he hadn’t wanted it to happen just because of Luna. Now though — he just didn’t care what it looked like. He was tired of tripping up on calling her his girlfriend because it was so much more than that between them. “Yeah.” he said, tilting his head and tucking her hair behind he ear. “Marry me.”

WANDA: Surprise. It turned out that Wanda was an incredibly quick study. She was barely able to stay afloat and it felt like Agatha had taken everything from her, but Wanda persevered. That was what she did. Time and time again she found a way to survive. As Agatha’s realization began to dawn Wanda found herself revitalized. Runes. They began to glow as the giant shapes lit up the sky. “In a given space, only the witch who cast them can use her magic. Thanks for the lesson, but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.” It was like the floodgates were opening. This was chaos unleashed. Agatha was pleading but the world was a red blur. It encased Wanda in its blinding light. She felt it solidifying around her temple, infusing her with pure potential. Destiny, fate, burdens. All words that had been thrown at her. At that moment, Wanda didn’t care. She was everything and she was nothing. She was, without a doubt, the Scarlet Witch and as a nexus of powers potential personified. Maybe Agatha was right. She didn’t fully know what she had done. Encased in magic, the new scarlet of Wanda’s outfit reflected the failing borders of the world she had built. For so long she had lacked a name, and in some ways, a higher purpose. That was no more. Red swirled around her palm as Wanda lowered herself and the defeated Agatha back towards the ground. She dropped the Witch unceremoniously before gently drifting down herself. Something was different. Everything was different. Red died from green eyes as Wanda turned towards the small crowd of people she knew, silent as her power threaded itself through her veins.

CAROL: Carol shifted her attention abruptly, calculating the woman who stood before her. She always knew Wanda was powerful - she'd dealt with enough powerful mutants to build a roster and by now, her instinct was to defend. "Wanda-" she started, but she made no move to approach. "You've got a lot of things to own up to." If Wanda attacked, Carol would defend -- but the last thing Carol would do was retreat, no matter if Wanda got a fancy new outfit in the last ten minutes up in the sky.

PETER: Peter couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Sure he’d fought in battles by Wanda’s side before, and even fought - well tried to fight - Wanda herself. But this was different. This was a whole other level — and Peter felt almost frozen in place as he watched everything commence, only broken from his trance-like state at the sound of Carol’s voice addressing the now grounded Wanda.

THE VISION: The two fought. They were beings forged with great power but remained intellects at heart. He required further elaboration. The two talked then, quick debate spurred on by processing cores and a desire to learn. This was the Ship of  Theseus, the dilemma of a conundrum. They were both Vision and they were not. One was memory and heart and the other the tangible devoid of that which had once made him. He could not destroy the Vision because he was the Vision. Alternatively, neither of them were the Vision. They had been twisted by greed -- both that of Wanda’s love and Hayward’s thirst for power. Together, perhaps, they could be one but that was not to be. Life had made them diametrically opposed through intentions he did not understand. It was with a quiet hesitation that the Vision let Vision touch the processing chip that had once housed the Mind Stone. And then -- clarity. Wanda. Sokovia. Wanda. Ultron. An accident that rendered a man paralyzed. This was the Vision as he once was. He was machine made more. Recoiling backwards, the blue of his eyes began to clear. “I am Vision.” Where that left the other he knew not, but the revitalized Vision shot out o the building without another word and escaped the barrier to find a place to enter deep contemplation.

VISION: Vision watched him go, left to float by himself among the now quiet air of the library. After but a moment or two, he soared out of the hole in the roof of the building to find Wanda and the boys. He didn’t know where any of it left the other synthezoid in his programming to destroy himself, but he was hoping it would override it. Upon landing, Vision phased through Carol to get to Wanda. “Captain Danvers.” he said on the pass through. “With all due respect, while I understand your qualms with my wife, they can wait another ten minutes — we’ve our children to get to.”

DAISY: Daisy watched in awe as Wanda fought it out with Agatha, still kind of in shock that this was the level of threats she was dealing with nowadays. That really was an Avenger up there, and she was standing next to freaking Captain Marvel. She was practically in the same amount of shock as Peter was as she stared dumbfounded with him, only to snap out of it at the sound of Wanda’s feet hitting the grass. She glanced down at Peter and raised her eyebrows at him in an attempt at a silent conversation, knowing he’d probably get her amazement.

MONICA: For what felt like the hundredth time in her life, Monica stood with her head tilted up towards the sky. This time there was no stars or Aunt who had turned to legend. It was a broken woman and a force set out against her. “I think what’s happening with me can wait.” Monica’s voice was quiet. She understood aliens but magic was new to her. She wanted to hate Wanda -- and a part of her did. Didn’t change how beautiful she looked dripping in scarlet and power. Turning towards Daisy, Monica nodded a few times before she remembered to speak. “Westview side effect. Looks like a lot is changing now.”

SAM: Carol was right. Wanda did have a lot to own up to, but they also had a lot to process and a lot of people to deal with. There was an arm extended in front of Carol. It wouldn’t stop her. It was purely a gesture. “It’s time for goodbye.” He said quietly, knowing what Vision meant. Besides, he was tired. They all were.

DAISY: Daisy blinked when she realized she was being spoken to. She turned her head to Monica and nodded. “Oh yeah, you went in before..” She could only imagine how having your entire reality rewritten and unwritten like that twice could effect your molecular anatomy. Daisy just knew that FitzSimmons would have a field day with trying to figure that out. “Still, that was super cool you know.”

TEDDY: Teddy Altman had been through a lot in the last couple of months, let alone the year. He’d lost his boyfriend twice—once to death, a second time to his scary mom. He’d been crowned the emperor of two empires that hated each other and was somehow expected to hold them together. His time on earth was limited most days, and while it made the frustration of not being able to get his boyfriend out of the hex — he was pretty floored to find out it was not only open, but the woman he’d been told about was involved. “Monica Rambeau?” Teddy said, approaching her. “My name’s Teddy. Can we talk?”

CAROL: Carol's eyes snapped to Sam, an incredulous furrow in her brow. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." she said on a breath but ultimately, she took a step back, actually turning around fully and away from Sam. "Good to know. I'll keep this in mind for the next villain we face."

CRYSTAL: Marry me instead. Crystalia’s mind was torn between the subtle swaying of rocking the baby and the processing of what had happened. Wanda would always be in her life, even if she wasn’t with Pietro. They were bound forever by blood and bone now. She was lost in touch - actual touch not being controlled by another - and the feeling of his lips against her own. “Marry you?” Of course she had thought about it. They had a child together and it was all but expected by an aristocratic family that worked on tradition. Crystalia had a child out of wedlock. Not only that but it was with a mutant who had a terrorist sister nonetheless. “Marry you.” The word was a sigh. She loved Pietro. She loved the family they had made. He wasn’t on one knee and they stood in the middle of a possessed town, but there was an odd romance to it. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Crystalia leaned up to kiss him. It was nice to have a choice this time. “I love you. All this craziness aside. I do.”

PIETRO: He wanted Crystalia and the baby out before he could think much of anything else. They had to be safe before he could get to Wanda and once he knew that Crys had Luna cradled to her chest, he’d picked her up and ran both of them back to Attilan in the Hudson. The entire ordeal had really only taken just minutes — mostly because he’d had to separate himself from them once again and convince his now fiancée to let him go speak to the same woman that had caused all of their pain. Even if that person was his sister—his twin, the same flesh and blood of his own—it still left its scars.

WANDA: They stared. Wanda sensed their indecision and, in some cases, their anger. Let them. It didn’t matter anymore. She knew what she had and what she had to lose. “A villain.” She repeated softly. There had been times in the past Carol had defended her. She hadn’t wanted Wanda left at the mercy of the mutants. But that was a different time before unforgivable transgressions. “Maybe, but it’s not that simple.” She had been villainous but that was over. This was the after. Taking Visions hand, Wanda nodded at Carol. “My husband is right. We have to focus on the boys. I’ll come back. I promise.” The last word was spoken quietly. She’d come back. Not Vision, not the boys. Just her. The twins had returned to town square, two children with expectant faces. Wanda would not let her last moments with her children be defending herself against Carol Danvers. Without waiting for permission, Wanda turned towards her home. “The barrier is falling. Westview is returning,” she called over her shoulder. “It will be right once more.”

MONICA: “Went in and got thrown out.” Monica confirmed. Carol was getting upset and she instantly tensed up to see if there would be conflict. When Sam intervened Monica exhaled. She was turning to respond to Daisy when she was approached from the other side. “Emperor Dorreck?” Of course she knew the Skrull leader. Space had always been a part of the Rambeau’s life. She excused herself to the side. “Yeah, of course. I’ll meet you as soon as we’re out of here.”

WANDA: It was the beginning of the end. No, not the beginning. The end had come five years before even though it felt like yesterday to a woman who hadn’t been around to live through it. The end had come the moment the Vision had died in Wakanda. His empty shell hitting the dirt heralded a new phase in her life and Wanda had tried her best to live in it. She socialized and tried to smile. Her tears were regulated to moments of privacy. Wanda had tried - she really had - but she couldn’t do it. She rewrote the story, added a chapter. There was no end then, only beginnings. Westview was real. Westview was hers. Westview had crumbled. People were flickering back to consciousness and red still sparked in the sky. It was her home that had never really been. A promise that had never been lived out. When the Vision had signed the deed and secured the land had he ever fathomed just how much Wanda would pervert it to keep it? The white android with his hands on her throat hadn’t remembered but Wanda always would. After months of games and manipulation she was quiet as she rested a hand on the twin’s backs. The elder version of the boys had long since departed. Not that she could blame them. They were all people for her to answer to but they had all the time in the world. The three souls who walked beside Wanda were pinned now into a finite box. She was going to lose them. They were never hers to lose. As Tommy and Billy obediently moved towards their house their mother took the hand of their father. It was silent except for their boots on the now cracked pavement and the quiet slapping of their capes. One day, there would be too much to unpack. Wanda felt a new thrumming in her chest and magic in her veins. The Scarlet Witch was more than just a name now, it was a point of being. She wore the mantle and the crown with a heavy head. The second their feet hit the threshold of the door the new costume faded away to more mundane clothing. A soft sweater, jeans. Some sneakers. Wanda felt stripped bare and the hardest part had yet to come. “Go get ready for bed, boys.” Her voice was hoarse as she tipped her head towards the stairs. When she looked back at Vision there was a plea in her eyes. The barrier was a soft static hush in the background as it inched closer. She couldn't do this. Not again.

VISION: They’d been moving at an immeasurable pace toward an end that he wasn’t entirely sure sealed much of anything at all. Time seemed slow and fast all at once, which led him to consider that it was merely a construct after all. A simple tool for humans to capture moments of life in numbered little bottles. Not that any of it mattered now — it did — but it could wait. If not for just for the moment: their moment. After all, that’s all life was, wasn’t it? A series of moments that molded bodies and souls all the same. Certainly Wanda and Vision had shared theirs. And while he spent most of their short time in Westview without the memories of their life prior to the Hex, he’d witnessed them within the precious past of a body that was never his to inhabit. And he felt that perhaps now, he understood her more than ever. He understood what they shared, but not what he was. He had all of this history that he couldn’t claim, children, a wife—love, yet once this world closed, this form of his being would cease along with it. What did that mean? What did it matter? Vision took her hand in his red palm and gently intertwined their fingers. They weren’t gone quite yet — he didn’t want her to mourn them before she’d truly lost them. He was determined to outshine the bitterness of what inched closer with the sweetness of what was still left. “Let’s say goodnight.” he said, and though his feet stayed on the ground, he felt himself floating up the stairs into their children’s room. For once he went to Tommy’s bed first, and sat at his feet. He watched Wanda with all the tenderness and normalcy that he could, hoping to leave her with something fond to remember them by. An ounce of reality in all the fiction.

WANDA: Goodnight and goodbye. It was with a bowed head and her heart in her throat that Wanda followed behind her husband up the familiar stairs to the boy’s room. The house hadn’t looked like that at first. It had expanded with her narrative to fit their new and extended family. Two boys at the top of the stairs, the heavy pounding of their footsteps heralding every new day. Her natural instinct would have been to move towards Tommy, but she settled instead by Billy. William, Vision had said. Billy, like Shakespeare. Wanda couldn’t say if she always planned to have twins. She knew Tommy the second he had started to grow in her stomach, but the joy in her husband's face had brought a new life to light inside of her. Smoothing back Billy’s hair, Wanda fumbled with unscripted words. “Snug as a bug. Big day today,” she patted the sheets around him. They were a family. This was the kind of evening that could have happened on any night but Wanda didn’t want to betray what she knew. They were kids. How could she tell them this was the story’s end? Looking to Vision, Wanda took a breath. “It was a big day. Your father and I are… very proud.” She exhaled. “But family is forever. We could never leave each other, even if we tried.” Had she not carried a part of Pietro around in her heart for years? He had always stayed near to her even as his bones turned to ash. “You know that, right?” As Tommy nodded and smiled across the room something inside Wanda fractured. She kissed Billy on the head before rising, trying to mentally document every scent and curl. They were hers even if they were never meant to be. Wanda would always be theirs. She and Vision met in the middle of the room, hands squeezing before she was kissing Tommy’s head. For all the messy parts of Wanda that there were, she had somehow managed to compile only the best of her and Vision into their children. This was her duty as a mother. Her tears were kept so far back she didn’t even have to blink them away as she playfully shook Tommy. Giving Vision his space to say goodbye, Wanda eventually drifted with lead coated feet towards the door. As she looked back the glow of the Hex began to coat the room. “--Boys?” Wanda tore her eyes away from their undoing and back to the boys in their bed. “Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.” Billy smiled, but Wanda knew he had some semblance of an idea even if he couldn’t read her mind specifically. The light flicked off and for a second it was so tempted to stop the Hex’s progression and create the blanket of the barrier again. The red haze was now tinting everything with its light and Wanda took one last look before closing the door on that chapter of her life.

VISION: He hated the idea of missing this, — the mundane nights spent in, tucking the boys to bed and retiring to themselves in front of the TV. He ached of not knowing what would come next for her and not being alongside her to share it. But most of all, he hated the idea of ceasing to be — even if he had no real claim to feel such a way. To have had so much, only to be greeted with a nothingness at the end of it...no promise of paradise, or rebirth. He supposed it was the most human thing he’d ever experienced. Vision let Wanda do most of the talking, trying his best to exist in the precious seconds that ticked by. He forced his gaze on his son rather than the claustrophobic barrier that rapidly closed in from the window. He ruffled Tommy’s hair and stood, forcing one food in front of the other. “Goodnight, Chaps.” prompted a resounding “Goodnight, Dad!” from the both of them and he held onto the warmth it blossomed in his artificial chest. They lingered in the doorway for as long as time would allow until eventually Vision found himself descending back downstairs, after his wife. He turned on a different lamp as she turned hers out, eager to see her face in the light rather than night vision. “Sorry. I read somewhere it’s bad luck to say goodbye in the dark.” He offered a soft smile at that.  

WANDA: Over time, Wanda had forgotten how to process. She lost the ability to move through the stages of grief and had nestled into denial as easily as if it were her second skin. Wanda lost and she lost and she lost. She ached, and for what? A moment of reprieve? She had those before the waves crashed back in and she was lost once again in the surf. It was wrong what she had done. After being coaxed through her memories by Agatha she knew that. It was wrong, but it was also the only time she had felt any semblance of right in years. The barrier was cutting its way through the town. She could feel it even if it was out of sight. Grass would grow yellow and wood would grow soft from moisture and lack of upkeep. Westview would return to its bitter self that she had first stumbled upon. Her dream had been their nightmares. The shiny veneer of Westview Wanda had painted wasn’t real. Her hand hovered over a family portrait. No one would remember it being taken. It was just filler anyway, an object in a house to keep up the illusion. No, not a house. Their house, even if it wasn’t this Vision who had so lovingly procured it for her so they could have a home. He would have done the same, Wanda liked to think, as the Vision had. He didn’t know the scope of her tragedy but he loved her. He looked for ways to brighten her life. No sooner than her lamp had clicked off did the one she had already turned off bloom back into light. Wanda couldn't help but start before she turned to see Vision standing by the lamp. “No,” a smile somehow found its way to her lips despite the situation. “You didn’t.”

VISION: He mirrored the soft sadness in her smile with his own. “No…no” he trailed, having grown comfortable in their shared silences...or maybe he just wanted time to stretch longer. “Perhaps not...perhaps I just wanted to see you..clearly.” He gazed at her softly. “And there you are.” He murmured more to himself than anything. She’d always been so beautiful — in more ways than just the high slopes of her cheek bones and the delicate look in her eyes when she allowed herself to be vulnerable. It was difficult to imagine he’d never see that face again...never do anything again.

WANDA: No one had seen her clearly in years. Pietro always had a sharp gaze that could cut through her vague indecision, but without him he had been adrift. The Vision had seen her, too. She felt the Stone that powered him and he looked at her with clear eyes. Dumnezeu, she had loved him. Past, present, future. Wanda knew now that he’d always exist in her breastbone, right alongside the after effects of the Mind Stone. Two ghosts, both shadows of their former selves but spurring her further nonetheless. There you are. It was heartbreak and love all wrapped up as one and reflected in Wanda’s smile. But the Hex was collapsing. She wasn’t the only one who could tell and she gripped his hand by the window. It was too soon. It was five years overdue, and yet, it was too soon. When he turned to her she found a way to tear her gaze from the sight of Westview shifting and locked her eyes on the flickering face of her husband in the red light.

VISION: “Wanda…” Vision started, suddenly feeling their world grow so much smaller as it crashed around them. Hungry scarlet swirls of the red barrier ebbed slowly around them in wait, allowing him to finish. He cast it only the briefest of glances before his gaze returned to his wife. “Before I go,” He begun softly “— I feel I must know… I want to know.....what am I?” Even as he felt himself ask, he wondered maybe it wasn’t his place to — or that it was even a question she could answer, but still he had to at least try. Closure was, in his opinion, often rather loaded. People wanted it, but weren’t prepared for whatever shape it came in. They had expectations, hopes for the way things would end...and often the reality of it was painful. And while he struggled to know if he was ready for closure now, he supposed it didn’t matter. It was never really his story. So maybe what he was really asking now, was for his writer to fit him with an honorable ending — whatever shape it took. He trusted her with that, even if the rest of westview and the world didn’t.

WANDA: This was her fault. All her fault, like so many other things. To her, it had never mattered what he was. He was hers and she was his. It was that simple. Couldn’t two people just be in love? Maybe, but not them. It wasn’t simple and in their case it wasn’t pure with Wanda’s interference. She had made him as she remembered him, but Vision was more than a memory. The Vision had many intricacies and complexities that could never be replicated. She had done the best she could but still had left hollow holes in her husband. It wasn’t fair to the Vision or Vision. “You, Vision,” her hand moved to caress his cheek. People heard synthezoid and assumed his flesh would be cold like metal but it was warm and real under her palm. “Are the piece of the Mind Stone that lives in me. You are a body of wires and blood and bone that I created. You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.” His hand had fallen over her own at some point and Wanda finally lost the battle with her tears. She loved, she loved and she lost. This time had to be different because she had to accept it. She had look at him in the near darkness and remember just how all encompassing it felt to love and be loved by him in the days that would stretch out when he was gone.

VISION: He grounded himself in the warmth of her palm against his cheek, comforted by the melody of her voice — even with a vastness awaiting him the moment her lips stopped moving. It didn’t matter, he took those precious seconds to kiss her with all the tenderness he found even the complexities of 6,500 human language could not express. “I’ve been a voice with no body...a body but not human...and now…” he met her sad eyes “A memory. Made real.” He wanted so badly to leave her with hope, desperate not to let her drown in her own grief. “Who knows what I might be next.” What we might be. The barrier was closing in now and with it he found himself suddenly feeling the loss of time as if it were a loss of breath — he gently pulled her to him, placing his hand on her cheek in a delicate cradle. “We’ve said goodbye before...so it stands to reason…”

WANDA: Their kiss was bittersweet. It was the first hello of two beings who finally saw each other as they were and the last goodbye between tragic lovers. As a tear tracked down his cheek, Wanda caught it with her thumb. The moisture on her finger pad was real. Androids could cry. Perhaps not all, but hers was special. Vision had always been special and that would never change. To her it would be impossible for him to be reduced to just a memory. She would see him out of the corner of her eyes in the hall or hear a rustling and expect to see him phase through the wall. Scents would escape the kitchen and she would wonder for a second if it was him attempting a dish just because it would make her smile. Wanda had seen sides of the Vision no one else had. She had seen goofy and soft. He was the full spectrum of being, and his quiet steady nature even in the face of oblivion made her cry. She had never deserved him. Not really, at least. He was worthy to hold the hammer of Thor and Wanda -- she broke things, she threw fits and hurt people. From the moment she had sensed him in dreaming under Ultron’s watchful eye in the Cradle she had been doomed. Wanda felt love in her life but she never managed to hold onto it. It was a stream and the water always flowed right past her before her thirst was quenched. Vision was a memory made real, sure. But in Wanda’s mind he would always be real. We’ve said goodbye before, so it stands to reason... Wanda clutched either side of his head as her eyes frantically traced the lines of his face so she could memorize every one. “...That we’ll say hello again.” She was nodding quickly as the red raced through the town and finally made contact. The house began to fluctuate through all the variations that Wanda had forced upon it. The reality began to unwrite herself right in front of her eyes, but she was going to hold onto her husband until she couldn’t anymore.

VISION: The barrier came for them rapidly, then, and all he felt was her. Her hands on his face, her being somehow tethered to his as his body began to come apart much more gently than before. It wasn’t a ceasing to exist, merely a return home — a return to where he’d existed from the beginning: within her. It wasn’t painful, and it wasn’t something to fear anymore. So many more things he wished to say to her, seconds he’d ask for if they could. But they were out of time. “So long, my darling.” Until, hello.

WANDA: It didn’t end with a bang. It ended with a soft smile and the echo of a voice before its owner ceased to be. She felt him slowly fade out of her grasp until she was left clutching nothing but the air. The house -- their house -- had reverted back to a foundation that would never be built upon. Wanda wouldn’t sell but she could never live there either. Her happiness had lived and died within those fallen walls. Her heart was splintering in her chest. Clothed once more in the outfit she had worn when she arrived in Westview, Wanda slipped her hood up over her hair and ignored her car as she began her funeral procession of one back to town square. A promise was a promise, but Agatha’s words were heavy in her heart. There would always be pitchforks or women like them. Stepping into view, Wanda kept her head held high. “It’s over.”

SAM: His lips flattened into a tight line. “Jesus, Carol.” So much for a happy reunion. “Wanda fucked up -- bad. But she’s going to say goodbye to kids. Her kids. Give her ten.” He believed she’d come back, and she did. Defeated but present.

LORNA: Her sister had just turned and left with the family she had made. Lorna had a sinking feeling that Wanda would be the only one she saw again. “What can I say?” the words felt flat in her mouth. “I like to feel desired.” She turned to look at Remy then. He looked the same, if not ragged. It was hard to tell. Lorna felt like someone else all together -- which was fair, situation depending. “They let you in here?”

CAROL: Carol shot Sam a look, one that was one part confused and one part angry. She knew she struggled with the grey area, but rarely did her and Sam grate so blatantly. "That in comparison to torturing people for months. Sure." She was tired of the passes, but she'd relented and thrown her hands up. Once Wanda came back in to view, Carol didn't even make a move to approach her. Like Sam, Carol was tired too, but for an entirely different reason. "You did the right thing." She said, though there was no sense of sympathy in her tone. "The people of Westview are being extensively checked for neurological damage or magical after effects. They'll be lucky if they don't suffer from PTSD after this." she knew she wasn't making any friends here. Carol didn't care. But still, she shifted slightly so her body was turned towards Monica. "This is your case, Rambeau. By all means,"

REMY: "You know I have a habit of getting in even when I don't belong." He said passively. He was looking at her, but not really. He was exhausted, the feeling dragging him down over the past few weeks Lorna had been in here. He truly was spending most of their relationship losing her and it stung a little more every time. Still, "Are you okay?" it was a question said off to the side, because there was no way that conversation could happen now. He just had to ask.

WANDA: Two women forged by Infinity Stones. Carol and Wanda were powerful but in different ways. “They suffered.” She replied simply. “Extensively. And I’m sorry. I never meant to make my pain theirs as well.” That, at least, was true. It had not been her original intention but she had perpetuated willingly later on. “You’re not arresting me. But I’ll go with you willingly, Captain Rambeau. I owe you that much.”

MONICA: “Me?” Monica arched a brow. “Yeah, I’d say that’s fair.” Wanda had thrown her from town and caused Monica’s cells to metastasize. She had also used her powers to throw her around another time. Monica had felt Wanda’s pain first hand and was left with a detached pity. “Wanda Maximoff,” she began the formalities. “I’m Captain Monica Rambeau. I am officially bringing you into holding under the authority of S.W.O.R.D. I am not required to read you your rights as you register as a threat to the Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division and will be treated as such. Do you understand?”

LORNA: Normally she’d launch flirtatious barbs back with him, but Lorna just gestured around slowly. “Not really a desirable place to be. At his question her brow furrowed. “No. Not really, but I will be.” Insanity did run in the family. “I need to find my Father. We need to go to Krakoa.”

REMY: "Why do you think we're here?" he asked, though there wasn't much room for answering. "There's no reason we should stay now. There's a gate close by." it was a suggestion for them to leave now, to turn away from Lorna's sister being taken in by SWORD.

LORNA: “Maybe you’re a fan of the show,” her tone was sardonic at best. No reason to stay. No reason to watch Wanda hauled off. The two sisters had ever been closed but it rattled Lorna more than she wanted to admit. Her family didn’t handle grief. No member of the Monarchy of M seemed to be sane. They threw tantrums and raged. Would she have done the same as Wanda? Maybe, if Lorna loved anyone that much. Far more agreeable than usual, Lorna turned away from Wanda in the square.

WANDA: “I understand.” Wanda nodded. She could never give the citizen of Westview the last two months back but she could at least own up to her own shortcomings -- of which there were a multitude. As Wanda took a step towards Monica her clothing rippled. Magic was always present. If she was going to leave Westview it was with a shrivel of her dignity intact. The hood of her jacket had redesigned itself into a cloak, red fabric falling over bare shoulders. There would be time later to address Agatha and wrap up that plot line. “And I’m ready.”

PIETRO: Pietro arrived in time to see S.W.O.R.D. and F.B.I. swarming the area like bees in a frenzy. A boom snapped through the air as he slammed to a halt, feet ripping up chunks of pavement — Christ, he had to get better at that. Fixing his sleeve, Pietro stood up straight and rolled his shoulders some, shoving his snowy hair out of his face. “I’m gone five minutes and you already want to get yourself arrested.” he said, walking around from behind her. He cast a glance to the others — Monica, Carol, Sam — scattered agents all braced for anything. “Just like old times, ah?” They had a lot to talk about — but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her. She had to have known it was coming even though he didn’t ask, he just lifted her off the ground and shot off with a sonic boom, leaving nothing but a breeze and a standstill in their wake as he put over a hundred miles between them and Westview in two seconds flat.

DAISY: Daisy was waiting patiently in the back for the potential of Wanda running off, although she wasn’t quite sure any of them besides Carol were prepared to be able to stop that sort of escape. Even if she did feel for Wanda’s situation, there were rules they had to follow. And rules she swore to uphold when she became an agent. She blinked in surprise when she saw Pietro run up, surprised at how fast he was. She knew he was a speedster from the files she’d read, but it was an entirely different thing to see it in person. And then before anyone could even say anything, there was a loud boom and just wind blowing by them and both Wanda and Pietro vanished into thin air. After a few beats of stunned silence, Daisy let out a sigh and shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Now S.W.O.R.D was going to have to look for both of the Maximoff twins after this whole mess. It was definitely a frustrating ending after being so close to getting Wanda to willingly come talk with them, and Daisy could feel a nagging irritation prickling under her skin as she shook her head. “I’m going to go help with those extractions.” She stated to Carol and Monica before turning and walking off back towards the direction of the base.

WANDA: This was the last thing she needed. Denial, anger, bargaining and now, after a painful breakthrough: acceptance. Wanda wasn’t resigned but renewed. They were mad and could have their moment. The energy from Darkhold whispered in her ear even though it was out of sight. Wanda was ready to face the stake they would inevitably try to force her to burn on, but then someone was making quips. The reverent air of a battleground that hadn’t completely found an ending was charged with a boom that rattled her teeth. Five minutes? It was five years and then some. Her eyes drifted closed. Wanda’s Westview was gone and her constructs with it. Everything left was real, but was he? This was a question she had turned over in her mind again and again. Acceptance. He was hers. He always had been. Agatha had laughed that he couldn’t be returned because his body had been left broken and isolated on foreign soil. Wrong and wrong. Vision and the boys had been tied to the town. It anchored their reality. Pietro was the exception. His accidental resurrection was tied to the one who had been half of his being. Pietro existed as Wanda did, their connection once again rekindled even though it was tainted red. There had been no reunion yet. Their interactions were tense and filled with a one sided disgust. Wanda had clung to an illusion because she was terrified of the fact that there was one thing she couldn’t replicate. This was real but Wanda did not deserve it. Not after what she had done. As her eyes fluttered open, Wanda’s lips parted. She was going to tell Carol it changed nothing, even though everything was different. She was culpable still. Instead her feet were pulled out from underneath her in the same disorienting blur that had once been familiar. Hair whipping around her face, Wanda’s hood had fallen off by the time he skidded to a stop. Blue and silver streaked the air behind him. The only thing new was the scarlet that threaded through the afterimage, the trail of magic that was still fresh on its mistress. The ground crunched underneath the wedged heels of her boots once contact was made. There was a cold wind but the heat of her magic still flushed her cheeks. “Pietro?” The word fell from her lips and hung in the air between them.  Where did she start? You’re back? I’m sorry? I need to go face my fate? Wanda just stood there and stood for a long moment. It didn’t matter that she was the Scarlet Witch, chaos bound in flesh. It didn’t matter how powerful she was. Right then she was ten years old and flat on her stomach as the Stark missile ticked away. She hadn’t known then it was her power stopping it from going off as probability twisted. Pietro was the one keeping them safe as he held her close. She had always assumed it would be him who filled that role but now she had years of experience and tragedy that had affixed itself to her being and turned her into the woman she had become. But that was for later. She could be strong and suffer in a silent dignity later. Right then she was closing the space between them until her arms were wrapped tightly around his chest and her head pressed over the spot where his heart beat a little too quickly. “Îmi pare rău, frate. Îmi pare așa, atât de rău. ( I'm sorry, brother. I'm so, so sorry. ) If Wanda kept her head down she wouldn’t have to look at his eyes and see if disdain still lived there. “I lost you.”

PIETRO: He’d thought about what he might say to her if she ever did finally speak to him again — without all the facade of Westview to deafen her ears from everything he said. He wondered if he’d hold on to his anger—but it had morphed. Mutating into a hurt he didn’t know how to place. That he could. He knew it wasn’t intentional, but that was the sad part...it...it didn’t matter. Crystalia didn’t want Wanda anywhere near their daughter and while he understood her reasons, that didn’t make the cut any shallower. He shared everything with her, as a being he very much considered an extension of hims own, it was difficult not to bring her into the life of his child. And so he was crossed between the boy that would sever his own limbs just to quell the quiver of Wanda’s lip, and the man that wanted to stand by his soon to be wife. Maybe he fueled that into the mad dash he did away from Westview, because he didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he started to smell salt. It was different to run so long with her, but she’d always been a light load. Pietro finally stopped when he hit the west coastline—kicking up an array of sand as he slid with her. It was one of his more graceful stops, but that wasn’t saying much. He set her on her feet and for once kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to say—literally anything. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but as she fell into him he felt his world tip a little, back into place. His hands gently smoothed the curls of her unnaturally strawberry red hair and he wrapped both arms around her. “nN pentru totdeauna” not forever, he said. In the most predictable way, his anger melted away, but it did leave welts in the wake of its fire. Dor the first time in their lives he didn’t know where her head was at—and he’d never needed telepathy to do that. And though he could never hate her, and he could never want her out of his life, he didn’t know where that left them. And he silently dreaded the problems having wanda in their lives would inevitably cause with the mother of his child.

WANDA: She lost him, but she had found him. Wanda couldn’t put into words how much that meant. “And now I have so much to tell you but it’s not the time. I have to go back, Pietro. I need to face what I’ve done.” It was the right thing to do, after all. Wanda owed the people she hurt and had given Monica her word. Flicking her hood back on so it cast a shadow over his face, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, frate. We’ll be together again soon.”

MONICA: There was no reason for handcuffs when the woman they would shackle was a literal witch who could apparently teleport when she was in the mood to. Monica was immensely grateful for Wanda’s cooperation and had her own opinions on the matter. Wanda had been wrong. Her actions were more than just hurtful, they were dangerous. Monica knew that just as well as she knew that if she had been in Wanda’s shoes with her powers she would have done the same. It didn’t make her actions excusable or meant that Monica forgave her. She just had a throbbing sense of balanced justice instilled in her by her mother. Wanda would face the jury and it consistent of more than just Monica. But then, Pietro. Shit. He had been a little bit of a wild card ever since Wanda yeeted his kid and girlfriend (?) into the Hex. Now he was in a place to potentially cause an escalation with Wanda -- who had just returned and was compliant. “Maximoff,” Monica took a step forward and found herself blinking away grit that Quicksilver’s feet had kicked up. He was gone and Wanda had vanished with him. “Jesus.” Monica resisted the urge to turn and smack the solid army truck behind her. She could survive being shot but something told her that all she’d accomplish was becoming the owner of a broken hand. Nodding at Daisy, Monica made no move to follow her. Instead she turned to Carol, who had proven herself to be a powder keg consistently in danger of exploding. Had she always been like that? Monica couldn’t remember but childhood memories were faulty. They were blurred fact with fiction. Sam, at least, looked more stoic with his arms crossed over his chest. “--she’s coming back.” Monica pursed her lips. “Wanda was ready to go in, she was listening.”

REMY: "Haven't bothered to watch." His tone remained level as they started for the break in the wall. He had come prepared for a fight, but he was leaving with none, and he could feel the dissatisfaction even if he'd ultimately won in the end. It had been a tough few weeks and all his sitting had caught him in a loop with no outlet. "Your sister will be fine." He offered as the neared the edge. "We know people who have done far worse and are sitting on our country's council."

CAROL: Carol stared at the spot where Wanda had disappeared for too long, her eyes boring into the gravel of a city that had returned to its poorly maintained state. Though her features remained neutral, the tension in her shoulders was immense and all she wanted to do was strangle not one, but two Maximoff’s now. Forcing out a breath, Carol completely missed Daisy's comment and instead turned towards Monica. "I know." she acquiesced. "And yet here we are." Standing in the center of a town that had been pulled through the decades by magic, its citizens mind controlled and tortured, and the only person to blame was gone. "Maybe we should coordinate with Krakoa." she looked towards Sam, but it was nothing more than a passing glance. There was a lot to unpack there, but their personal lives could never cross into their professional. "As much as I'd love to argue with Frost that, although Wanda is a citizen a Krakoa and therefore untouchable, her mass mind manipulation of US citizens stands to reason she needs to face a trial. It's not a witch hunt," she said pointedly. "But Pietro did just implicate himself in this mess."

SAM: Maybe. Sam shifted before straightening up. “Last I heard, Wanda was pretty estranged. If we talk to anyone, it’s Magneto.” It was unlikely that the Master of Magnetism was going to be biased because it was his daughter. “But outside of Krakoa, Wanda isn’t a U.S. citizen either. There’s not a home country we can send her to for trial anymore.” That made her their problem. It was a little less messy internationally. “The guy was dead up until two months ago and hasn’t gotten to actually talk to her since. Guess we should have seen that coming.”

LORNA: What, could he not be bothered to tune into the home torture network to at least see that she was alive? Lorna just snorted, Westview now fading into the background. “Good for you. Hope Wanda gave me a new liver when she rewrote reality because all I’ve done recently is get wasted and make out with would be frat guys.” Which had never been her type. “Wanda is Wanda. She makes big messes and everyone finds a way to forgive her. She lays low and then the cycle repeats.” Not that Lorna could take another Decimation. The glow of the emergency gate that the mutants had situated by the barrier emitted a soft glow. “Like my father.”

REMY: Remy had avoided the broadcast because he hadn't been privy to watch, even if he knew he wouldn't have bothered given the chance. It was...a complicated mess of feeling, and he was still sorting through it. Lorna's words didn't help, but he didn't comment on them. He wanted out of Westview, he wanted to be back on Krakoa. They emerged together through the breach and he led her to where the mutants emerged originally - the closest gate back to Krakoa. "We can talk more once we're back." He wanted out of here. Away from the mess Wanda had formed. If he could, he would've rather pretend it never happened.

CAROL: "Guess we should've." Carol muttered, eyes flitting up to the sky and then back down again. "We can send a team in to do a clean sweep, gather up any evidence we may need. Otherwise, I think we need to get started on the citizens. Make sure everyone is okay." It wasn't necessarily their job to aid at this point, but Carol felt separated from victory, and she needed to do something. "Monica can make a call, I'm sure."

MONICA: She was not about to be in the middle of a lovers quarrel. It felt like she had been in her S.W.O.R.D. sweater and training pants for days. Her skin was sticky with sweat and the adrenaline had begun to wear off. Carol, Sam and Monica were some of the last remaining, three Captains who covered the spectrum in how angry they were. “Sam,” she turned towards Wilson. “We need a trauma evaluation. They’re not letting us do anything until after that.” It was just standard protocol. They’d need to find Wanda and the White Vision who had smashed through the town before vanishing. Agatha Harkness was still weak on the ground, stuck in stasis. They couldn’t restrain her. They needed Wanda and her fancy magic shapes for that. And, S.W.O.R.D. needed a director. It wouldn’t be Monica. She didn’t want it. That had been Maria’s job and her daughter didn’t want to squeeze into her shoes. She had always preferred walking beside her too much. It would be Abigail she talked to after Brand finished her counseling as well. S.W.O.R.D. would heal. Maria would never be back but her legacy would persevere. “We’re going to find Maximoff.” Monica sent a look to Carol as she began to take a few steps back. “She promised, and I’m big on holding people to their word.” She’d make her call. She’d do what she needed to, and at some point Monica would sleep. Westview was free. They were free. Why didn’t it feel like it?

[mage-cat]

First Steps Home - Saving Who?

Glimmer and Catra’s escape plan is underway, and it’s taken a turn that surprises their rescuers.

@cruelfeline May I offer you a Hordak rescue fic is these trying times?

Chapter 2 of part 2 of the Mending Bridges series. First chapter of this fic here. Start from the beginning of the series here.

Story under the cut. ~2100 words. Link to AO3 through here.

Bow looked understandably bewildered. “Why do we need to save Hordak?”

“First,” Catra answered, “while I’m sure the two of you could mess up the transporter mechanisms well enough for us to make it back to the planet, the longer they are out of commission, the better. For that we need someone with more experience with the tech, which means Hordak. Second,” she pointed at Entrapta, “are you really going to look into those big, pink eyes and tell her ‘no’?”

Bow made the mistake of looking into those eyes, open wide and shining with hope at the idea of rescuing Hordak of all people. He turned back to Catra, “And just what do you expect us to do with him once we’re back on Etheria?”

Catra shrugged. “Put him under house arrest in Dryl? The Alliance could even mandate directions for his research.”

Entrapta’s face split with an ear-to-ear smile. “I approve of this plan!”

“He did all this for Prime’s approval. Now, he’s seen that striving for that was pointless. His choices are to let himself be wiped away, or to find a better alternative. I just want to give him the choice.”

Bow sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Imp is going to have to make himself scarce,” said Catra, pointing to the creature perched on Entrapta’s shoulder.

“Why?” she asked.

“Horde Prime sees Hordak as a defect fit only to die. How do you think he feels about Imp?”

Entrapta tucked the crystal in her pocket and held Imp in front of her. “If I wrap you in my hair, will you be alright in there?” Imp nodded and nestled himself in a thick tendril that Entrapta looped over one arm.

As Catra moved towards the door she said, “If we get stopped, I’m taking you to the reconditioning room to reassure you that Prime has taken care of Hordak--sorry, if we’re stopped he’s clone K-18--while Adora and Glimmer are working out a personal matter.”

---

In the best luck any of them had had in a week, they reached the reconditioning room without incident. Inside, Hordak floated upright in a tube of green liquid, cables plugged into ports in his back laid bare by a dark garment that didn’t cover much. Overly exposed and completely slack, it was easy to imagine him as little more than a dead skeleton.

Entrapta stood in front of the tube. She had released her hold on Imp in the same moment that her face fell into wide-eyed worry. “What are they doing to him?”

“Honestly,” Catra said, “Prime explained it, but I don’t have the background to understand most of the technical language he used, and what I did understand, I don’t want to think about hard enough to repeat properly. I think I understand these controls though.”

After a moment, the liquid drained and the sides of the tube retracted into the floor. Hordak would have hung imply from the cables if Entrapta had not rushed to hold him up.

“Hordak? Hordak?!”

“Even if he can hear you right now, he can’t react,” Catra explained.

“Do you know where the armor I made for him is?”

Imp broke away towards a nearby storage area and pointed to one of the containers. Together, Bow and Catra got it down and opened it, finding the armor. Entrapta quickly started disconnecting the cables and fitting the armor in place. Even if it was only visual, it had the effect making him seem less like a corpse and more like something that could operate as a person as it helped Entrapta hold him sitting upright.

When she was done, she pulled the crystal out of her pocket. “Please work,” she begged it as she slipped the crystal into the socket that she had designed to hold it.

“If his eyes are green when they open, we may have to run,” Catra said.

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before now?” Bow whispered fiercely.

Catra shrugged.

Hordak’s eyes opened blessedly red and focused on the woman who was smiling at him, her own eyes filling with tears of relief. “Entrapta?” His voice was little more than a disused croak. “How?”

“Bow and Adora got me off of Beast Island in exchange for Scorpia joining the Rebellion,” she said as she pulled him up standing, her hair holding her up to match him in height. “Catra lead us here.”

“You came for me?”

She smiled wiping the tears from her eyes with her hair as her hands kept a firm grip on Hordak’s. “Of course I did. You’re the best lab partner I ever had.”

For the first time, he looked away from Entrapta and took in their surroundings. His gaze fixed on Catra. “Force Captain,” he said coldly.

“If you really need it, I could try to explain to you right now why I did not feel bad messing with the head of the person who suffocated me twice and sent me out on a suicide mission, but we are short on time. Just know that I actually do think that there are some fates that not even you are bad enough to deserve. Now do you want to help us sabotage your big brother’s transporters and join us in getting out of here or not?”

As the two seemed determined to stare each other down, even while Hordak and Entrapta continued to hold hands, Bow said, “Entrapta, would like to to see how the transporters work?”

Entrapta jerked as if waking up, her hands finally leaving Hordak’s with the motion. “I would love to see how the transporters work.” She turned back to Hordak, regaining his attention. “Dismantling the components would be very informative.”

They could practically see the wheels turning in Hordak’s mind as he considered if he could really turn his back on Prime, on everything he had ever known and worked towards.

Imp scurried up onto his shoulder, where Hordak almost automatically began to scratch under his chin.

“I worried about you.”

Horde Prime’s and Catra’s voices came in quick succession. “Destroy that disappointment. You’re safe here.”

Hordak looked at Catra. “Do you already know how to reach the transporter systems?”

---

They hadn’t been able to snoop around enough to figure out how they could reach the transporter systems. Imp could find them through the vent shafts, but that didn’t match up closely enough with the corridors. With Imp once more swaddled in Entrapta’s hair, the group looked almost like a standard diplomatic delegation with a clone escort.

Almost.

Another Horde clone stopped them. “K-18. You are supposed to still be undergoing reconditioning.”

It was Catra who answered. “Horde Prime thought it would be best if the one playing guide for the Etherian delegation had as much knowledge of the planet as possible. That left him with only one option. K-18 is leading us too...” She turned to Hordak. “Where exactly are we headed again?”

Hordak blinked and answered, “The aft-ward conference room.”

“If I understood correctly,” Catra continued turning back to the clone, “that is where we will be handling the negotiations.”

The clone stepped aside and allowed them to move on.

Once they were out of earshot, Hordak muttered, “Your skill with lying continues to be unsettling.”

“If you didn’t want practiced liars within your ranks,” Catra said in the same low tones, “you shouldn’t have given Shadow Weaver charge of the cadets.”

“If I had been wise regarding Shadow Weaver, I never would have employed her at all. I fail to understand why you were so reluctant to send her to Beast Island.”

Catra’s stride never broke. “I needed something from her first.”

“I told you at the time that whatever information she had was not worth the risk of keeping her in the Fright Zone.”

“Information was an excuse I was able to give you. I wanted something else.” She was silent for several steps. “After going through all the trouble of supplanting her, even if she would never apologize for the way she had treated me all those years, I thought she could have at least admitted that I proved to be a worthy opponent rather than a worthless disappointment. It was dumb of me.”

Hordak seemed to consider what she had just said. “I suppose I do understand that impulse.” Silence hung between them for a few more moments. “Shadow Weaver was shortsighted. When not engaged in duplicity, you performed admirably.”

“Horde Prime is shortsighted too. His obsession with perfection means that he doesn’t see the good in unexpected results. We can use that against him.”

Hordak stopped in front of a door. “We’re here.”

“Great,” Catra said as they stepped inside and closed the door. “I’ll handle lookout duty while you three tech heads get to work. Remember, we want this out of commission for as long as possible. If any components are useful for portal technology and small enough to carry, we want to take them with us.”

“How will we get them to the rendezvous point without being noticed?” Bow asked.

“This is the rendezvous point.” Catra held up her Force Captain badge and pressed on it, turning the face red. “Glimmer has a tracker. When she and Adora have cleared the docking bay, she’ll come get us.”

An alarm began to sound. “Well, they’ve certainly made some progress in the docking bay,” Catra said. “Work fast and hope they don’t figure out where we are quickly.”

While Hordak directed Bow and Entrapta in pulling this and grabbing that, Catra set to work mutilating the mechanism that would allow the door to open. A haphazard pile had built up around the team’s feet when something began banging on the door.

Glimmer teleported in. “Ready?”

Hordak looked up. “I’m unsure the exact state of the supply lines at present, but this will take some time to repair.”

“We’ll take it.”

Entrapta swept the pile of parts up in her hair as they held hands and Imp clutched Hordak’s shoulder.

“Hold tight, Hordak,” Catra said. “The first teleport is the worst.”

In a gut-churning blink they were next to the ship the rescue team had arrived in, the docking bay around it thoroughly trashed with several unconscious Horde clones on the floor.

They rushed onboard. Bow slid into the pilot’s seat. Catra stood next to him, clutching the seat back with her eyes fixed on the freedom beyond the ship’s front screen. Hordak sat down heavily in the back of the ship, wrapped firmly in Entrapta’s hair with Imp in his lap. Adora and Glimmer sounded like they were picking up an argument where they had left off before Glimmer had teleported away and back.

Minutes passed. The ship continued to fly towards Etheria’s surface. Catra’s grip on the pilot’s seat loosened, and she began to make out details of Glimmer and Adora’s exchange.

“Your mother told me to look after you.”

“That’s not what she said,” Catra cut in.

Glimmer’s head jerked towards her. “It’s not?”

“She said, ‘Take care of each other.’ I’m not surprised you misremembered it, Adora. You never really understood what the phrase means.”

Adora crossed her arms. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Catra’s arm swept outward. “Look at the people around you. Where do you think we would be without you? Do you think we would all be helpless without you around to play hero? Where do you think you would be without us? What does our support mean to you? I’ve tried to tell you before. Being your sidekick is kind of a shit job.”

Glimmer added, “Honestly, I’m surprised Catra didn’t snap and start trying to kill you years sooner than she did. It only took me a few months to get sick of you acting like I couldn’t know what’s best for me.”

“Maybe you should ask yourself what it is about you that led two different people to risk tearing the planet apart just to have the chance to prove you wrong.”

“It wasn’t just to prove her wrong.”

Bow’s voice was was slightly too loud as he said “Wow! I am way to busy flying this ship to have an opinion in this conversation.”

Catra leaned back on the pilot’s seat. “You’ve been taking the brunt of it lately, huh?”

His eyes stayed resolutely fixed forward. “Still too busy flying.”

She turned back to Adora. “You went from being Shadow Weaver’s favorite to being the Sword’s Chosen One. You have ridden through life with power others gave you, and it sure does feel like you think that makes you better than the rest of us.”

Adora tightened her jaw. “I broke the Sword. It was the only way to stop the Heart from going off.”

Catra turned back towards the front of the ship. “Maybe you’ll finally learn how the rest of us get through life.”

Next Chapter: Landing >

[overthinkingkdrama]

hi! love in sadness anon again. if you can rec some good melos i would be thankful.

[Oh my gosh, anon. I suck. Seriously. I’ve been trying to sit down and get this done from the moment I got your ask and I just haven’t been able to do it. Anyway, hopefully you see this. Thank you for your patience.]

Little do you know how long I have been waiting for this moment. This is my time to shine! Jk, but I would be happy to give recs. It’s a delight. I started going through my MDL and realized just how many dramas in this genre I have actually seen and realized I would probably have to trim my recommendations somewhat not to seem like a crazy person. Also I have subcategories! Yay!

(I’ve included the *** next to titles that I have watched multiple times or that stand out from the rest of the pack.)

First of all, Movie Melos.

Sometimes you don’t have time for 16-30 hours of drama. Sometimes you want to get all your feels out in a single sitting and move on with your life. That’s where movies are so helpful. My favorite bite-sized melos are:

Always*** – An ex-con trying to get his life together falls in love with a blind woman, but his efforts to help her recover her sight might drag him right back into the violence he’s tried to escape.

Shoot My Heart – A young heir is forced into a mental hospital by his rich family where he meets a disturbed young man. They become friends, try to protect each other, and eventually escape. This one has a bit more of a comedic element to it than the other movies I’m recommending, but there’s plenty of the melo tone as the movie goes on.

Will You Be There? – After finding out that he’s dying of cancer, a man travels through time to beg his younger self to save the life of his first love.

Butterfly Sleep – This is a Japanese movie, but it also stars Korean actor Kim Jae Wook, who recently got a boost in popularity from Her Private Life. The movie revolves around a poor young man from Korea who ends up living with an older woman, a novelist who has just discovered she is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, and the passionate relationship that develops between the two as he helps her finish what will be her final book. #tragedy_tag

High Quality, Human Melodramas

So, this category is for if you want something with all the emotional gut punch of a really wild family drama, but you also want your melos to have actual artistic merit so when you tell your non-drama watching friends and family members about them they don’t end up losing respect for your taste.

Just Between Lovers – This is the story of two young people involved in and scarred by the same horrific accident, but survived and end up finding solace in one another as they deal with their combined traumas. If you’ve seen this drama around the kdramasphere on tumblr you might have seen a lot of gifs of the soft romance. Don’t be fooled though. The romance is indeed wonderful, but the themes are heavy and it can be rough sit.

My Mister*** – I really am just looking for every possible opportunity to recommend this drama. It has supplanted my former favorites and become my top drama of all time. It’s about two people, a troubled young woman in her 20′s and a structural engineer in his 40′s who have become beaten down and broken by life. Their two lives end up intersecting and they develop a really complex friendship that changes both of their lives. Acting, writing, directing…I have nothing bad to say about My Mister. This drama is actually perfect. 

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes – Do you like your melos a bit murdery? I know I sure do. Give me a sociopath any day of the week and I’ll say, “Thank you. I’ll take two.” This drama is about a young man who might be a monster. He becomes a detectives prime suspect in a murder investigation. At the same time he meets the detectives younger sister and they begin to fall in love. #tragedy_tag If this sounds like your thing, but you don’t like super sad endings check out Hello Monster, also starring Seo In Guk.

Secret Love Affair – I think it’s probably safe to say this drama is considered a modern kdrama classic, and for good reason. A story revolving around a woman who gave up her dreams for security, trapped in a loveless marriage, who meets a piano savant from an extremely underprivileged background and he sets off a spark for passion, music and love that she hasn’t felt in a long time. This is a quiet, pensive drama with a lot of wonderful music and atmosphere. YMMV depending on your tolerance for cheating and a slow-burn pace.

Alright, Cut the Crap Jona, Show Me the Extra Soapy Guilty Pleasure Dramas We All Know You Like…

Maybe you don’t go in for this type of self-conscious, “serious” drama watching. You’re going to watch these things in the sanctity of your own room and never tell a soul about them. Or perhaps you’ve evolved past needing other people’s approval to enjoy the things you like. Good for you, I say! As it should be. In that case, I have some top shelf makjang crack to deal you. This is the part of the list where the sliding scale of quality gets a little wobbly. Most of these shows contain a little, if not a lot, of crazysauce. All of them are over-the-top melo fun.

Baker King Kim Tak Gu – A drama about the illegitimate son of a conglomerate CEO who has inherited his preternatural baking abilities looking for his place in a family that will never acknowledge him. Yeah, the premise is pretty “what”? When I first watched this drama I thought it was supposed to be a satire of the makjang genre. To this day I’m not sure how seriously this drama actually takes itself. What I will say is it’s hella entertaining, even as it piles on more than it’s share of craziness (machinations, murder, affairs, chaebol fuckery, love polygons, gangsters, birth secrets, and on and on.) I was surprisingly invested and remarkably satisfied by the ending.

Ms. Perfect – This drama is something of a gothic romance/makjang melo mash up. It involves a woman whose marriage shatters just as she loses her home and finds herself desperate to take care of her family. She’s enticed by a mysterious woman to live with her in her huge house, but this stranger has eerie motivations of her own. Really fun, weird show. But brace yourself to be blue-balled by the romance. It’s one steamy make out session from being noona-romance catnip. 

Money Flower*** – I unironically love this drama. It’s very close to the platonic ideal of the Revenge Melo. It involves a Dantes-esque male lead, Kang Pil Joo, who is willing to destroy himself to enact his multi-decade revenge on a wealthy family that took everything from him. He is the shadow of a spoiled young heir who he plans to use to take down the whole evil empire of Chungha group, but in order to do that he has to orchestrate the heir’s marriage with the innocent daughter of a powerful politician, the woman who Pil Joo himself is in love with.

That Winter, The Wind Blows – This one is a lurid conman tail about a gambler who, in his attempts to pay back a dangerous gangster out for his life, pretends to be the prodigal brother of a blind heiress. He tries to get the money and skip town, but ends up falling in love with the mark which comes with a host of other complications, not the least of which is she thinks he’s her brother. This one is high on the guilty-pleasure-o-meter for me.

Come and Hug Me – Some people might disagree with my putting this one on here, but for me the premise is too wildly melodramatic to omit. The leads start out as childhood sweethearts, but the problem is his father is a deranged serial killer and her parents end up two of his victims. As adults he becomes a detective trying to make up for his father’s legacy of cruelty and she becomes a famous actress like her mother. Traumas resurface when she becomes the target of an apparent copycat and their past connection becomes the fixation of a ruthless tabloid journalist.

Thank You – After his fiancee dies of cancer, a Doctor travels to a remote island to fulfill her last wish–to help the family of a little girl the late fiancee was responsible for inadvertently infecting with HIV. Unexpectedly he finds himself attracted to the girl’s single mother. However, he will have to contend with the prejudices of the island people about AIDS and the reappearance with the girl’s father. This one is as heavy as it sounds, and the oldest drama on this list, from 2007, with all the idiosyncrasies that go along with older dramas. But it’s remarkably well done. From the same writer of a bunch of classic melodramas (I’m Sorry, I Love You; A Love To Kill; Innocent Man; Uncontrollably Fond, etc) but this is my personal favorite of hers.

The Last Empress – Okay, I couldn’t omit this one. I tried. Average musical actress Oh Sunny winds up married to the Emperor in an alternate history version of Korea and becomes embroiled in the machinations of the corrupt royal family. With a nice side helping of revenge plot. It’s demonstrably not a good show. It’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen. But it had me hooked early on and then I couldn’t get myself free. What a magnificent train wreck this drama was. If you’re looking for problematic nonsense melos that were MASSIVE hits in Korea and you’re torn between this and Baker King, go with the silly bread show and keep this one in your back pocket.

Fated to Love You – This one is probably the most off-brand on the list, because it leans heavily on the comedic tone, especially for the first half. There’s a definite turn at the midpoint of the drama where it becomes MUCH more melodramatic (with all the tropes you expect to go along with that), but I think it pulls of the transition impressively well. Besides, it’s a fun watch with a fluffy feelgood ending with a bow on top. It’s a dash of sugar for your melodrama sojourn, a genre that admittedly can be a bit of a bummer.

There it is. I tried to do an extra good job with my list because it took me so long to get it out. I’m sorry again. Happy watching!

Jona

[ill-skillsgard]

Bred For Blood - Part 4 - The Chrysalis

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ for mature themes, eventual smut, swearing, gore/violence, mentions of rape, slow burn, ridiculous AU character crossovers

Characters: AU Zeitgeist, AU Ivar Lothbrok and more AU Skarsgårds

Description:  If they thought surviving Year Zero was bad enough, the rise of the Scavengers, Poachers, Bounty Hunters and the self-proclaimed Kings of Kinderfeld were sure to put their survival instincts to the ultimate test. A young Survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to the prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly yet plenteous forest. But what happens when she has to swear fealty between a hunter who means to protect her, a king whose promises are boundless or a brilliant scientist with a mind capable of preserving the human race?

A/N: I’m super happy that people have been liking this story. Thanks to everyone that takes time out of their days or nights to cast thine eyes upon my brain spit. You guys are fun and I like you. Reblogs/comments always treasured! Kisses!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When all the ammunition was exhausted, the grenades unpinned and the more helpless Zeronauts retreated into their squalid shacks, the dust hardly had time to settle before Zed turned her pistol on Axel. The hunter looked over his shoulder to see if he had maybe missed one of the animals but saw nothing but dead bodies laying lifeless and bloodied in the dirt. It was then he realized that she was aiming the barrel of the gun right between his eyes. Axel lifted his hands, scoffing in disbelief as warm blood trailed down his temples to drip off his jaw. They were both panting, filthy and worn out from the carnage that they had unleashed on Zeronaut Village after they had emerged from the storehouse carrying all the weapons that the animals stowed away for safe keeping. The women and young ones that begged for mercy watched as the two strangers that had come into the village the night before laid waste to the monkeys, rabbits and plague doctors from bullet holes and cracks in their dented homes. "Zed... It's done. Put the gun down." "No! It's not fucking done! Shut your mouth!" Her voice shook but its volume did not recede. Axel turned toward her with his hands still up, a gesture of his surrender. He knew what this was about but he hadn't expected her to turn on him so quickly. He thought they would have at least driven away from the violated commune so they didn't draw more audience. Her anger was just reaching its peak and he suddenly became uncertain that she wouldn't blow him away. Not after seeing the level of savagery she had demonstrated when she had gunned down a dozen men in cartoon masks. "Zed, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm so beyond sorry! You don't even know—" "Shut up!" She yelled. "Can't you stop running your fucking mouth for one goddamn second? Why do you always have to fucking talk!?" Axel shrugged. "You going to kill me too, Zed? Is that what's going to happen?" She took another step closer to him and attempted to steady the gun in her trembling hand. "I have never wanted to slaughter somebody so badly in my entire life! All of this is your fault! I wish that you would have never saved me from those fucking Scavs! I would be dead right now and never had the misfortune of meeting somebody as vile and disgusting as you!" Axel's face adopted the same look of viciousness that hers did. "Hey! I saved your fucking ungrateful ass! Twice now! And this is how you wanna thank me!?" "Thank you? What the fuck do I have to thank you for? For leading me right into a trap? For letting these assholes look at my body?" "I did what I had to do to protect you! I had a fucking gun to my head! What was I supposed to do in that situation, Zed? You know I wouldn't have allowed anything to happen to you!" "There you go with the 'you know me' bullshit! No! I don't know you! All I know is that you're a vulgar piece of shit and I hate you!" "Good! Hate me all you want! You can despise me and curse me and call me any fucking name you want but the fact is, I fucking saved you and I didn't have to! I could have let those Scavs fuck you bloody! I could have left you stranded in the desert. I could have let those Looney Toon psychopaths eat you up! If I didn't have you with me, I'd be fucking home by now living like a goddamn king! But I'm putting my ass on the line to take you to a place where nobody will fuck with you again." Zed's arm began to shake more and she struggled to hold the gun still. The weight of it strained her sore muscles and the emotions that surged had finally drained her of her last dredges of energy. The adrenaline that had pumped through her veins made it difficult to breathe without wavering. After all was said and done, Axel was right, and she knew that, but her humiliation was so fresh that it felt like she was still without her clothes. Zed knew it wasn't what Axel intended to happen but his eyes had been on her as well and she could tell by the way he avoided looking at her that guilt was fizzing inside of him. "Why?" She whispered, lowering the gun before her arm gave out. "Why what?" "Why go through all of this? If you could have been living like a king right now, why did you bother with me?" Axel took a step toward her but she retreated immediately and he froze for a moment, lowered his hands and sighed. "I know it's probably hard for you to believe but when I see people like you being taken advantage of... It... It makes me crazy. I'm not a bad guy, Zed. I don't want to kill anyone and I especially don't want to see others being tortured and killed if I can do anything about it. I know you're tough and you can hold your own but you're not as ruthless as most of the fucks left on this dead, shit, dirt planet. Well..." Axel paused to look around at the destruction that they had equal parts in creating, the bodies already attracting flies. "Maybe you are now but... Goddamn it, Zed. I wasn't just going to leave you." "You're stupid," Zed mumbled. "Yeah, I am. So deal with it or don't. You can take the rover and leave if you want to. I won't stop you. Or, we can both get in and I'll take you to a place where you will always be safe and you never have to worry about anyone defiling you ever again." Zed tossed the gun down in the dirt and let out a long shaky breath. "Okay. Let's just go." "Yes, good! Let's get the fuck out of here already." She wiped her gritty forehead of the sweat that beaded on her skin. All she wanted was to lay down for a while and not worry about who was lurking around the corner waiting for her to shut her eyes. She had had enough of the villains she met at every stop of the unpredictable journey she had embarked on with Axel. As much as she hated him, there was no way she could murder him now. She owed Axel a debt and she would never say it out loud but it was there, hanging over her head like a thick rain cloud. They left the village with a significantly lower population and many more weapons and supplies than what they had arrived with. Axel was still bleeding from a deep cut in his head and Zed's muscles screamed in agony. She leaned back in her seat as they picked up speed and breathed in the hot noon air. Her pulse that had been pumping harshly in her ringing ears began to level out, the sun baking the sweat on their skin. Smeared with dirt, blood and tears, Axel began to laugh when he remembered that earlier that day he had taken a bath. Zed mustered a glance in his direction and chuckled to herself before closing her eyes, tipping her face to the sky like a battered sunflower trying to follow the light. The bloodbath that they had left behind played in Axel's head; a broken reel from another waking nightmare. Not a man to typically regret anything, he knew that the memory of today would live forever inside of him. Zed fell asleep almost as soon as they rode off and for that, he was grateful. She didn't deserve this. He shouldn't have stayed any longer in the supplanted commune surrounded by lunatics in masks. It was foolish of him to think he could trust anybody out in the desert. Zed had been right; it was all his fault. He strolled right into a giant rat trap and they were lucky to not have succumbed to the poison laid out for them. Flashes of Zed's shaking body choked him up while he drove. The grievous sight of her taking off of her clothes in the middle of that dingy warehouse with all of those venomous bloodshot eyes shooting holes into her made him grip the steering wheel harder. He was still sweating even though the wind had picked up and blew through his blood-crusted hair. If he hadn't concerned himself with hygiene they could have left unscathed. Or perhaps, he thought, the Zeronauts hadn't had any intentions on letting them leave at all. That was the very last time Axel would ever invest an iota of good faith in anybody. Glancing quickly at Zed, he wondered if he should be wary of her too. She had turned a gun on him, threatened to shoot right between his eyes and if he was having a moment of inner honesty, he feared that if he hadn't been so good at talking himself out of sticky situations, she may have left him dead in the dirt as well. Zed was just as capable of brutality as anyone and he had now witnessed it on more than one occasion. He hadn't met a woman in all of the miles he travelled through the desert that wouldn't hesitate to stab a man in his ear canal or reduce someone's head to a bowl of brain soup, and that scared him. Was this a trait she had picked up as a Survivor or was she merely adopting the behaviours she had been subjected to, he wondered. He was going to take a long break from headhunting once they arrived at Kinderfeld. Even if Ivar had contracts for him, Axel needed a vacation from all the violence and carnage. He wasn't lying when he told Zed that he didn't enjoy killing people, he had only realized early on that it was the easiest way to get what he needed in the godforsaken world that they had been left with. The bloodthirst of other men was the only surefire way for him to provide and protect himself and his brother. Never had Axel missed his brother as much as he did at that moment and the closer they got to the gates of Kinderfeld, the more excited he became to see the face of somebody that didn't completely resent him. Axel hoped that, with time, Zed might learn to forgive him and understand that what he did back in the warehouse was only meant to help them in their dire predicament. The betrayal that had flashed across her frightened face when he screamed at her to undress made his stomach twist so hard that he had to look over at her limp body in the passenger seat just to remember that it was all behind them now. Yes, he would be having nightmares for many weeks to come. The air started to smell sweeter and puffs of fluffy white clouds appeared in the bright sky. More patches of grass cropped up and that's when he knew that just over the ridge of the next hill, they would be able to look across and see the green border that separated Kinderfeld from the rest of the world. Axel poked Zed's arm but she did not stir. "Zed, wake up!" He called to her. Her eyelids peeled apart as she drew in a waking breath. He had eased up on the gas and coasted to a stop at the top of the grassy ridge so they could look out at the seemingly neverending sprawl of trees. From the flattened platform of the hill, the forest looked like a thick blanket of green mushrooms. A touch of mist veiled the furthest reaches of the land and Zed couldn't believe her eyes. She straightened in her seat, a grating mix of emotions turning her words to vapor on her tongue. "This is it?" She asked. Axel pointed ahead, "Can you see that dome over there? It's nestled right at the bottom of that elevation. See it?" Zed stood up so she could find what Axel was pointing out. Then she saw it glinting like a single nebulous opal in a sea of emeralds. It was just one of many structures, Axel explained to her but the biggest and most noticeable one. The dome that arced out from the viridian waves was the central power house of the entire city. Plated with solar-panels, it drank rays from the sun and converted it to pure energy to power the lights and luxuries that Zed hadn't experienced since the dawning of Year Zero. "I can't believe this," she whispered in awe. "I told you. That's just the tip of the iceberg. Wait until we get closer. You can't see even an eighth of the city from here." "And there are no spores?" Zed asked. Axel drew in a breath that trembled in his lungs. "There are in certain areas. Remember Betsy?" "How could I forget?" "They have farms for those bastards. I guess they want to study them... Gather information about them so they can work on developing a serum that will help people." "A new vaccination?" "Yeah. So that us Uns can survive in places where there are plants for more than a couple weeks." Zed lowered herself back into her seat and grimaced. She thought of her father then and wished that she hadn't abandoned her home as quickly as she had when the fleets flew in. For her entire life leading up to that point she had always had access to materials on Palynology. She could have been of some help if she had only chosen to follow in her father's footsteps or at least thought to rescue some of his research. "And that's what your brother does?" "Yes. Among many other things." "I can't wait to meet him." Axel sighed with a touch of a smile on his lips. "I can't wait to see him. It's been so long. I don't think I'll be leaving again for a while." "That's good," Zed nodded. "You should take a break from all this." "I want to. Now, hang tight. We're going in," Axel said as he lifted his mask up. "You're going to be okay to go in?" "Should be fine. Unless that shot we found wasn't bright blood. I guess we'll see." Zed swallowed hard. She wasn't sure if she could prepare herself for what she was about to see. Even with the teardrop scar on her arm, she had been conditioned for so long to think that green meant bad, and there they were, practically nose-diving into a limitless world of it. As they edged up to a clearing packed down with tire tracks, she held her breath. The shade of the forest canopy was cool and made her shiver. Axel slowed the rover to a crawl as the suspension wobbled and pitched over rocks, humps and broken tree branches. She could not believe her eyes when she looked up and saw the legions of mossy trunks towering up to the sky. All around the forest was matted with vegetation and she could not see anything besides what was directly in front of them. The path was wide and had been carved with two parallel indentations from the vehicles coming and going but they still couldn't see around a turn until they turned onto it. Zed shied from the waxy palms that reached out from the edges of the path to brush over her bare arm and shoulders as though greeting her with outstretched hands. The air tasted fresh and moist, much more soothing than the dry heat she was used to. She could feel her skin getting dewy from something other than sweat. From the ridge where they had parked for a moment to gaze over the land, the forest looked like a slice of paradise but once they were weaving through the felled logs and boulders bristling with tawny fungus, Zed thought it more treacherous than the desolated sands of the dry desert. She was still shaken from their fight and worried they would happen upon some new terrible inconvenience, another savage with a weapon poised to wound. "You have nothing to worry about, Zed. That teardrop on your arm is your all-access pass to the world," Axel remarked. "I know, it's just... You never stop fearing." "Don't I fucking know it," he replied before launching a string of white spit over his shoulder to catch on the spaded leaves of a rubber tree. "They obviously wanted you alive." Zed didn't care what anyone said about the vaccinations. Her father had told her to remain skeptical about everything she heard unless she could prove for herself without a fragment of a doubt that it was true and without a proper lab, she still had her doubts about the scar on her arm; the mark of the bright-blooded, the planet's mercy. The path straightened out and far ahead she saw the first glimpse of the Kinderfeld gates; two massive metal sliding barricades heavily guarded by uniformed men carrying guns vaguely resembling the acid-spitting rifle that Axel had. She tossed a worried glance at Axel and he nodded, acknowledging her nervousness so as to make her feel like her fears were warranted but unnecessary. "Don't worry. I have clearance," he claimed. They were halted ten yards from the gates and approached by two armed men wearing face masks similar to Axel's but theirs were dark red and fasted by two adjustable straps around the crown and base of the skull. They had on army-issued helmets and bulletproof vests. One of them hung back with his right index finger gracing a well-oiled trigger while the other one approached Axel's side of the rover with his gun pointed non-threateningly at the ground. "Well, well, well. Look at what the shitstorm blew in! The mighty Zee has returned home and with lots and lots of goodies for King Ivar." Axel shook his head in good humour. "It's mostly stuff for the labs. You really think me so indebted to Ivar?" "King Ivar," the other man corrected. The headhunter scoffed and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the soldier that had taken offence to the informal address. The guard next to Axel gestured for his partner to stand down. He backed off by one step but did not let his finger off the trigger. "This guy new?" Axel asked as he stuffed his hand into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes. "Second week on the job," the guard chuckled. "Ah," Axel nodded. "I'm Zeitgeist... One of King Ivar's liaisons. You'll get to know me, officer, if you haven't already heard of me." The guard that had corrected Axel's address grimaced even more and still showed no intention of yielding his glare. "I've heard of you." "And who might this be?" The friendlier guard looked Zed over. "This is a scientist I met on my travels. Her name is Zed. She's come with me to help Vee in the lab. No better Brightling brainiac for miles. Ivar will be happy to have her, I'm sure." "Sorry, Zee. You know the protocol. Can't let anybody in without clearance from the King." "Come on, man. I'm tired, concussed and I haven't been home in over a month. She's with me." "Don't worry, Zee, we have walky-talkies now. Shouldn't take too long to get you in." Axel sighed dramatically and leaned back in his seat as he searched himself for his lighter. The guard that had been fingering the trigger of his gun watched Axel and though his eyes were visored and his face mask was up, Zed could see that his mouth was set in a thin frown. "Bold-N-Bright, I got Zee at the gates and he has a woman with him. Says she's a scientist. Requesting clearance." Axel lit his cigarette and took two exaggerated puffs before blowing the smoke at the guard who had been showing them silent contempt. They waited to hear back from whoever was on the other end of the radio in strained silence. The guard looked disappointed after the radio call came back in to let them through, unhappy that he didn't get to point his gun at anyone's face, namely, Axel's. Zed looked at the bounty hunter smirking around the filter of his cigarette and thought that he had the kind of face that could piss off a lot of people with minimal effort. He was flippant, over-confident and the perfect target for trigger-happy gunmen itching to fire off some rounds after weeks of no action. It didn't help that Axel was still covered with  dried flaky blood and blowing white smoke rings from his satisfied lips as though he were the most relaxed he had ever been in his life. She still hadn't forgiven him, not totally and her trust was non-existent but if what he said about Kinderfeld being a safe place turned out to be true, she would consider thanking him. Until she was certain that her life was not in danger, everything seemed a threat. But they opened the gates for them and stepped aside, clicking the safety hammers back on, a relieving sound to Zed. Axel took off the brake and gave a royal wave as they took slow passage after a button was pressed to open the metal gates. Zed looked to the left and right and saw nothing but shiny reflective walls mirroring the wild foliage of the forest. She peered into the entrance; a glass tunnel wrapped with vine clusters and leaves grown in the shape of the tall archway. Blades of sunlight shot through and the decadent fuchsia of wild orchids cast a warm glow on them as they crawled through the curving entrance. The light looked pink on Axel's pale skin but Zed's seemed to absorb the orange from the creamy plumerias overhead. They eased through a kaleidoscope of plush colours that she didn't know she had missed until they were twinkling in her eyes. Zed had grown so accustomed to monochromia and the glare of the desert that lush green and royal purple blooms were a treat for her eyes. She marvelled at the curved structure exploding with blooms and buds until they reached another set of metal doors that opened into a large cubic warehouse. It was home to all manner of vehicles; dirt bikes, dune buggies, four-wheeled rovers and one rusty battle tank that looked like it had been out of commission for years. The ceiling had wide open sky windows and the strip lights were wired into what Zed assumed was the same kind of solar panelling she had seen on the outside of the dome when they had stopped on the mountainside. "This is what I like to call the Valet. You have to leave your vehicles here. Even dirt bikes. Can't really bring these things into the place," Axel explained. They pulled into a spot to park that was sanctioned off by yellow paint on a smooth gray stone floor. The warehouse could have housed a few dozen full-sized vehicles but there wasn't much more than what she saw which made the vast space seem empty. But they weren't the only ones in the warehouse. There was a man strapping himself into a zippy little one -person dune buggy and gave Axel a nod as he tore out of the warehouse and exited through the way they had just come through. "Certain people can come and go but most choose to stay here. Ivar has the place at capacity and they stopped building structures eight months ago. The flow of people has been restricted." "So it's not a city?" "It's more like a village, really. A nice one. There are the housing blocks and then there are more common areas like the library and the courtyard. Don't get me wrong though, the courtyard is huge and that's where a lot of inner commerce happens. People with two-way clearance can come and go as they please, taking things out to trade or bringing in things that we need. It isn't overly difficult to get two-way but, as I said, most people choose to just stay when they get here." "And where does the King live?" "King Ivar spends most of his time in the Chrysalis." "The Chrysalis? Sounds... Ominous." "It's kind of beautiful. Weird... But beautiful," Axel chuckled with a hint of unease. "You might like it though. Ivar chooses to live how he wants. That's the beauty of it all, I guess. He's created this zen little commune but with power and a lot less sand than what you're used to. Fans and water distribution. It's pretty fucking ritzy by today's standards." "What about food?" "There's a couple of big greenhouses and a farm. Nothing excessive though. There's not a lot of animals being bred. It's not really as big of a priority as growing cruciferous vegetables and harvesting fruit and water." Zed gave Axel a brief smile and he smiled back. "See? I'm a forward-thinking guy too. I understand the importance of conservation. I'm not a total idiot." "I never said you were." "Oh, I'm pretty sure you have on multiple occasions now. But that's fine. We'll introduce you to Vee and hopefully... I mean... If you want, you can check out the lab or whatever. I saw you poking around at Glott's place. Might be something you'd be interested in pursuing. Then you won't have to see my nasty mug every damn day." Zed looked at the cement floor as they walked and thought hard about what Axel said. She had so many questions and she was anxious about meeting other people. Everyone that Axel had ever introduced her to had been a mad man and she didn't want to be in the presence of violent tendencies any longer. The closer they got to the exit the more she heard from beyond the warehouse walls; voices and many of them. She shied away from the guards with polished wooden bats and everyone else she saw as they made their way to the overhead door that had already been drawn up at the beginning of the day to allow entrance to the courtyard. The courtyard was a vast sphere made of checkerboard panel. One square of the board was clear and let in the light of midday and the next was metal. On the outside of the dome, the solar panels glinted. It was an elaborate, large-scale version of what she had been trying to accomplish with her plane. The glass panels let in the light throughout the day and at night the lights came on so people could freely wander in a labyrinth constructed of half spheres, safe from the brutal elements of what now grew in the forests. If the structures didn't exist, they would be embroiled in the thickest parts of treacherous land. That's what made it so amazing to Zed; it was in the middle of the place they were supposed to be avoided at all costs. Yet she walked across level ground made of poured cement and insulated walls that must have taken teams of trained workers to construct. "I don't understand. How is this place possible?" "It was built by Brightlings. Don't you ever wonder why certain people were immunized and most were not?" "That's just a conspiracy theory." "One that has been proven right to me time and time again. Every Brightling I've ever met has made me realize that they selected certain people to stay alive on this planet. Capable people... Smart people. Members of the population with gifts. Call it the honour roll." Zed remembered Axel's fake scar and said nothing. It couldn't have been true. If only people of a certain intelligence had received immunization that must have meant her parents had received the vaccine as well. She couldn't picture them alive though, as much as she wanted to. And if they were still alive, she had no idea where to begin looking for them. The lands subjected to the downpour had been taken back by the Earth, devastated by the outbreak of spores. Most places had become unrecognizable beneath the clutches of nature. Where once great cities stood now laid crushed husks of architectural memories crawling with vegetation and fungus. Her hometown would have been indistinguishable from the next. "Even though this place was built by your kind, I would say there's an equal amount of Brightlings to the Uns. Ivar doesn't believe in segregation of any race, gender or immunization record. As long as you can prove yourself to be a useful member of society, you're welcome here. Well... Not so much anymore. The only new people being brought in here unannounced are babies and I suppose guests of honour, like yourself." "So there is a hierarchy. You get special privileges that others don't?" "I'm trusted around here. Ivar knows my worth and we see eye-to-eye most of the time. I can do what I want just like he can do what he wants and she can do what she wants," Axel pointed at people occupying benches, laying on circles of blue, yellow and green crocheted blankets with fat pillows in heaps on the floor. There were some areas strewn with salvaged carpeting where small booths were set up for hair-braiding and grooming. Zed thought it odd to see a line of women sitting one in front of the other putting intricate braids into the hair of the woman that sat before the next. People seemed to wear what they wanted rather it be flowing silk sarongs, robes, dyed tunics, tank tops, pants, skirts, no shirts, tangerine and magenta sarees and many average article of clothing that may have been looted from somewhere far or near. They had what they had and that seemed like enough to them. There were wooden tables set up where Citizens served ruby liquid from jugs and ceramic pitchers. Axel pointed at a man and a woman doling out these cups of sloshing liquid to grateful patrons. "Those two grow strawberries and weed. They make juice out of both. They're always at celebrations." "What is celebrated here? I thought displays of religion were taboo." Axel sighed as they strolled through the center of the courtyard and around a white medical tent that had been erected for blood donation. "Everything and nothing at all gets celebrated here. I don't know... It's hard to explain. Sometimes one person could just be in a good mood and it's a call to arms. People play music and dance. Ivar has his own parties in his palace and sometimes he invites anyone that wants to come. Sometimes, he throws more private affairs." "Sounds suggestive." "It is," Axel pointed out. "Oh," said Zed. "Ivar is King of the hedonists. You'll understand soon. The Chrysalis is right through there," Axel pointed across the courtyard at an archway that was guarded by three men dressed in matching uniforms. They all carried the same kind of black clubs she had noticed the warehouse guards carried. The guards nodded their heads at Axel as they walked on by into another bending entrance. The hall was festooned with passion flowers that gazed down at them with exploding eyes of purple, vines draped over the clear tunnel in tangles and Blue Morpho butterflies flitting from blossom to blossom, kissing the petals as they passed their tiger-striped cousins. Running along the top of the tunnel were thin strings of twinkling lights that caught the verdigris and violets, refracting the rich colours of the forest onto the polished floor of the tunnel. "Wow. This is beautiful," Zed whispered. Her voice echoed down the hall as their footsteps proceeded them. Soon the shining lacquer of the floor was covered by intricately patterned oriental rugs and the temperature of the air grew balmy. A sweet, malty smell of vanilla and resinous wood filled their nostrils and Axel smiled as the memories of many nights spent on the cushioned floors of the Chrysalis resurfaced. Visions of toasted almond tarts, honeyed berries, fragrant herbal teas and so many topless women made him feel giddy to return to the epicurean comforts that cupped the hive of chambers in warm, temperate hands. Hands that stroked, nurtured and embellished with finery. There were no guards in Ivar's palace, only people that wished to get drunk off the vaporous pheromones that wafted through the swaying silk and satin drapes. A bone-white stone statue of an African woman stood in permanent melancholic tableau at the center of the chamber, her wrists bound in maroon silk that hung from gold hooks in the ceiling. Zed scoffed at the statue and clenched her fists against her hips. "What is that supposed to symbolize?" Axel rose his hands to her. "I didn't put her there!" Bowls of dried flowers had been set out and dozens of squat white candles burned around them. The floral perfume was hazy and stung Zed's nostrils. Couples and triples lounged together on feather-stuffed beds draped in velour and cashmere blankets. Her eyes and cheeks burned pink when she saw two women licking each other between the legs as a few watched in varying states of their own arousal. "Really?" She asked Axel shrugged his shoulders and moved Zed along passed tall silver candelabras coated with layers of black wax. Some of the pitting inside the curved walls were caverns of fat pillows and overstuffed slabs, hidden behind layers of sheer lace. Teardrop shaped skylights were carved into the plafond, illuminating the painted ceiling and showing off the masterful brush strokes that meticulously mapped out a scene of historical overindulgence. There was a horned man with hooves like a goat and a forked beard playing a tune on a wooden flute for three dancing girls; one draped in pink, one in blue and the other wrapped in golden yellow. Their breasts spilled out of their garments, leaking milk as they frolicked together in a dusky garden, drunk enchanted expressions of euphoria on chubby rose faces. Before the downpour, Zed had only seen auditoriums like the Chrysalis when she went to the opera with her mother and father. She remembered looking up and seeing the intricate spring of filigree and gilded cherubs dancing among mint flowers and soft blonde roses. Instead of an orchestra plucking and gliding their bows in a cacophony of melody there were guitar players gently strumming away with a woman's voice singing a hypnotic siren call. She caught the same dreamy feeling that she had felt in her chest on those nights she would dress in her best clothes to partake in an evening of musical lamentations. The heavy scents piqued her nose and she felt her temples begin to pound. Beyond the statue of the woman, there was a platform swathed in samite and mulberry taffeta. An incredible throne was staged on top of it and there lounged a powerfully built man with a frosty pair of half-lidded blue eyes, long russet braided hair and a quixotic smile on proportionate lips. When he smiled, a symmetrical shelf of white teeth flashed behind his lips and Zed could understand quickly the two women clinging to him were enamoured with his looks and by his presence. One of them gasped when she saw Axel and blushed, waving to him with a lazy flourish of her dainty fingers. "Zee! You've come home!" The man sang, happiness propelling his words through the air. "And you've brought a guest!" Axel curtsied to the amusement of the three bodies inhabiting the sprawling throne. The women were bandaged with thin, flowing material that clung to every last detail of their bodies and Ivar's hands ran up their thighs, ruching the fabric over oiled skin. "I didn't think I was going to come home this time, Ivar. It's good to see you." Ivar laced his fingers together in his lap and kicked his legs with excitement. "Your brother will surely be happy to hear that you've returned home. Hopefully, you choose to stay for longer? You look a little over-worked, my friend." "I plan on it," Axel languished. "I missed you guys." "We missed you, Zee," the girl on King Ivar's left said. Zed then felt the heaviness of Ivar's stare fall to her. The smile that seemed permanently affixed to his face tainted and he suddenly forgot about the two women at his sides. "And who is this mysterious desert flower?" "This is Zed—" "Ah, ah. Zee... Let the flower introduce herself," Ivar wagged his finger. "My name's Zed." "Zed? You too, with the abbreviations? What is your true name, darling?" "Azalea," Ivar gasped softly and swept his fingers along his own collarbone. "I knew you were a flower." Zed looked down at her mired clothes. "A dirty one." The King's eyes sparkled and he let out a laugh that aroused attention from across the chamber. "A dirty one! Oh... Zee... I like her. Where exactly did you come from, little flower?" "I lived in the desert." "And you're of bright blood?" Zed looked at Axel and he gave her a nod. "Yes. I am." "Well, you're late for the party. I'm honoured to have you in my kingdom. And what is this about your background in science?" "I'm really just a student of science. Biology and botany, mostly." "Just a student? Are you being modest?" Axel turned to face Zed as well. For the days that they had travelled together, she hadn't spoken much of her past. Granted, Axel never felt it right to ask but he had been curious. Now that she was volunteering the information he didn't feel guilty for listening. "I was on the road to becoming more than that but I didn't quite make it there. My father though... I learned a lot from him." "I'm sure a bright young thing such as yourself will fit in perfectly in the labs." "I'm taking her to meet Vee. I'm sure we can find her some accommodation?" Ivar grinned at her. "Of course. We'll find her a chamber of her own. Something with all of the amendments. I'm sure you two would like to wash up." Axel sniffed his armpits and the women on Ivar's throne giggled. "I could probably stand a shower or two." "You will have to tell me more of your journey, Zee. We'll have a proper celebration! And Azalea, you will be the guest of honour! Unless you're too weary? We could always celebrate tomorrow." Zed looked to Axel for something to say. The Chrysalis had robbed her of her attentiveness and all she wanted to do was lay down on one of the puffy mountains of embroidered pillows for a long nap. The hunter shrugged his shoulders. "What do you wanna do, Zed?" The choice was left to her and she felt the pressure of several gazes. "I'd... Love to celebrate. I'd also love a nap though." "Of course! The flower must close her petals for a spell so that she can emerge again more beautiful than ever," Ivar spoke with his hands and his eyes just as much as he did with his tongue. "All right, Romeo," Axel chuckled. "We'll be back tonight." "Come hungry and thirsty," Ivar said with a wink. Zed turned away only after Axel did and followed the hunter out of the mists of the Chrysalis, around the marble giant and through the rich mounds of fabrics and limbs. "Well... Ivar is quite the flirt." "Oh, he's like that with everybody. I swear if I had a pussy he would have already tried to fuck it." "He's pretty good-looking, Axel. I think you two would make a nice couple," Zed teased, feeling emboldened by the intoxication of Ivar's ambrosial hiding spot. "Enough with that Axel shit," the hunter snapped his fingers. "Oh, I'm going to call you whatever the fuck I want. After all we've been through together. You're going to be my bitch for a while." Axel tossed his head back in a hearty laugh. "Oh yeah? You think that's how this is going to work? No. Soon as I can, I'm dumping your ass on Vee. You can be his pain in the ass now." "I'm not going to be passed around like one of those... Those—" "You can say it." "Those hoes," Zed tittered. "You don't have to be. Vee is very professional and Ivar... Well, I can't really protect you from him. Only you can do that. Luckily he's all about consent." "Are you sure? Those girls looked drugged out of their minds." "Willingly out of their minds. Ivar won't pursue you unless you give him the green light. Word of advice... If you don't want to become one of his sex slaves, don't take drugs with him." Zed scoffed as they made their way through the courtyard toward another more plain entrance than the flowery tunnels they had been weaving through. "What do you mean?" "If you decide to do MDMA with the King... Well... You know what happens in those situations." "I don't. Not really." "Have you never done drugs before?" "I smoked pot in university," Zed shrugged. "Never been to the club on some Molly?" "No. When you grow up with scientists for parents you get the idea of taking unknown chemical compounds beaten out of you." "I guess so," Axel said. "Don't worry, Lea. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do anymore. Kinderfeld is all about respect. We might do things a little differently here but you're free to make your own decisions. Ivar won't enslave you or anything. I trust him. He's a decent leader. A good man." "I think you do have a little crush on him, Axe!" "And you don't?"

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[sushigirlali]

The Politics of Dancing - Part II (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Summary: Ben has known Rey most of her life, but when things change between them one tumultuous night, can he convince her that they have a future? Or will secret legacies, scheming parents, and fetching suitors get in the way?

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo|Kylo Ren, Finn + Rose Tico

Continuity: Regency AU

Rating: E

A/N: Sorry for the wait, friends, I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately. The Tumblr apocalypse and subsequent drop in activity has got me down. On the bright side, this story is now going to be a three-parter. This chapter was getting really long, so I decided to split it up. Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr 

——————

The Politics of Dancing - Part II

By: sushigirlali 

——————

London, December 1818

——————

Peering over the rim of her crystal wine glass, Rey slowly sipped the sweet red liquid in lieu of answering Lady Shara Bey’s probing questions. Poe’s mother could be a little pushy, but Rey was too used to Leia’s brand of brazen self-confidence to be excessively offended by her lack of tact.

“Really, my dear, you must come visit Yavin after the new year,” Shara simpered. “We have the most picturesque landscapes and historical homes, not to mention a great number of fashionable neighbors to dine with.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but my father and I have plans to stay in town through Easter,” Rey said noncommittally, finishing her glass and signaling Artoo for another. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just kept the bottle. “Maybe another time, though,” she added, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

Appearing disappointed but not discouraged, Shara tried a new approach. “Did you know my son was recently titled Viscount of Yavin? His father will retain the title of Earl until his death, at which point the name will be bestowed upon Poe.”

Rey slanted her friend a look, trying not to laugh at his pained expression. “Congratulations, my lord.”

“He’s also incredible marksman, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his equal. In these dangerous times, it would certainly be reassuring to have someone as capable as him by your—”

“Rey can shoot just as well as any man,” Poe interrupted brusquely. “So, I don’t think she’s in need of a protector.”

“And what would you know about the needs of women?” Shara snapped, putting Poe on the defensive.

“Mother, can we not—”

Covering her friend’s hand where it rested on the table, Rey stepped in to head off a confrontation. “Poe understands me quite well, and I him, so there’s no need to be insulting, madam. He’s a credit to your house, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

Lady Bey rounded on Rey, but their hostess cut her off before she could make a retort.

“Shara, would you mind switching seats with my husband?” Leia requested, seeming to materialize out of thin air. “I would so love to catch up with you.”

Leia’s tone was friendly, but her steely gaze made it clear that she wasn’t asking.

“I—yes, Leia, that would be lovely,” Shara said stiffly, dropping her napkin as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Niima.” She gave her son a small nod. “Poe, I’m…I’ll see you later.”

He inclined his head, but didn’t speak again until she was out of earshot. “Thanks, Rey,” he said under his breath.

“No problem,” she returned, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

Following Leia and Shara’s progress toward the head of the table, Rey was unsurprised to find Ben staring in her direction. What did surprise her, however, was the automatic rush of heat that raced up her spine just from making eye contact with the man.

Tilting her head, Rey studied his unique features, admiring the way his inky black hair fell wild around his pale face, the silky strands sticking out at odd angles were her searching fingers had sifted through them earlier. He wasn’t classically handsome, not in the way Poe was, but Rey found his too large ears and deep-set eyes and slightly crooked nose ridiculously tempting.

Not to mention that scar, she hummed, tracing the faded mark with appreciative hazel orbs.

He’d been a hellraiser in his youth, and she’d idolized him because of it. So many society men were afraid to be themselves, to be real, but not Ben Solo. He was outspoken and honest, even when he probably shouldn’t be. If she’d been a man, Rey liked to think that she would have followed in Ben’s footsteps.

Well, maybe not literally, she allowed, sizing him up. His height and build were so far out of the norm that he stood out in any room. Especially tonight.

Ben looked dashing in his neatly tailored black coat and trousers, the custom-made vestments showing off his long legs and broad shoulders to perfection. Still, Rey couldn’t help but picture his powerful body stripped of all finery on black sheets, just the way she’d seen him last night.

So manly, so beautiful…

The longer she surveyed him, the more she wanted to crawl across the table and slide into his lap; to feel his thickly muscled arms wrapped around her again as she devoured those sinfully full lips…

Get ahold of yourself, Rey! she chided, feeling her nipples stiffen behind the thin fabric of her chemise. Now is not the time to be letting your imagination run wild!

But it was too late. As if sensing her wicked thoughts, Ben’s dark gaze fell to her breasts, scraping across her taut peaks like he owned them. Why did I decide to forego a corset again? Cursing her lack of appropriate undergarments, Rey crossed her arms and prayed that he was the only one who’d noticed her wanton behavior.

Stop looking at me like that, she mouthed, fighting down the heat rising in her cheeks.

No, he replied with a smug smile, obviously amused by her blatant response.

Why, you—

“Hey, kid!”

Rey jumped as Han dropped into Lady Bey’s empty seat. “Uncle!”

“Sorry about that,” Han chortled, patting her on the shoulder, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s quite alright, sir,” she said, playfully wrinkling her nose at him. Maybe I should tie a bell around your neck just in case, though. That’s twice now you’ve snuck up on me tonight, a third time could be disastrous.

“And you, Lord Dameron, how is your evening going?” Han courteously inquired.

“Whatever the opposite of festive is,” Poe deadpanned, lifting his glass in salute.

“Yes, the atmosphere is rather tense for a yuletide celebration,” Han said jovially, reaching past Rey to click his glass against the Viscount’s. “I apologize for any consternation you might have felt due to my wife’s meddling. She can be a bit overzealous when it comes to the art of matchmaking.” He threw a wink at Rey. “Especially where my darling niece is concerned.”

“Uncle,” she groaned, “not you too!”

“Now, now, Rey, I just think—” Han stopped short as See-Threepio dragged a serving cart laden with at least five different cuts of meat and several sauces into the room. “I just think we should talk about this after dinner. Heaven forbid we let all this incredible food go to waste!”

Saved by the second course!

Rey thought irreverently.

Good thing Han prefers food to lectures…

——————

Gripping his goblet tightly enough to shatter it, Ben glared at the perfect picture his lover made sitting next to Lord Dameron: her pretty white dress and sun-kissed complexion playing nicely off his black hair and formal attire. Rey and the newly appointed Viscount looked good together and he hated it.

Since when are they more than mere acquaintances, anyway? he sulked, annoyed by how well they seemed to be getting on. What could they possibly have in common? Ben’s brow furrowed as Rey slid her hand over Dameron’s. And why the hell is she touching him?!

While they weren’t enemies per se, the older man had been a thorn in his side since university. Popular more for his personality than his wealth, something Ben had always been sensitive about, Poe had been his rival in everything from fencing to making friends, but up until tonight, they’d never pursued the same woman.

First Johnson, now Dameron, Ben frowned. Is Rey friendly with every eligible bachelor in the county? How many other men do I have to compete with?

Unused to feeling anything but supreme confidence, Ben tried to reign in his riotous emotions. It wasn’t Rey’s fault that he’d been supplanted as her dinner date, after all, that honor belonged to his interfering mother. Having long given up trying to arrange the love life of her only son, it appeared that Leia had moved onto her niece. Unfortunately for the Skywalker matriarch, Rey had a mind of her own.

Good luck, mother. That little spitfire has an independent streak a mile wide and I very much doubt you’ll be able to exert influence over any facet of her life. Ben took a thoughtful swig of ale. Besides, Rey would never allow herself to be bullied into anyone’s bed. She’s always been adamant that only the deepest love would induce her into…into…oh!

All at once, Ben realized that sneaking into his room had been a declaration of sorts, an admittance of Rey’s feelings and intentions toward him. At the time, he’d been too eager to possess her to pick up on the significance of her actions, but now, recalling the way Rey’s beautiful body had tangled with his, practically shouting how much she loved him, Ben felt like a fool for not being more perceptive.

We made love from one side of the room to the other, locked together for endless hours in our own little world and yet, somehow, I failed to see the sentiment behind her surrender. Ben marveled at his own stupidity. But what does she want long-term? To become my mistress? My wife? Or was last night just a passing fancy?

He supposed he should be wary of getting in too deep too fast, but he wasn’t. Beyond her boldness in the bedroom, Rey’s jealousy on the dance floor and subsequent ardor on the veranda gave credence to the notion that she felt more than simple desire for him.

Is this love then? he mused. It could be. We’re good together. Ben paused. No, better than good. We’re fantastic together. Amazing, even. Hell, we barely took time to breath let alone consider the consequences, and I…I…oh, shite! Ben cursed as realization struck. I completely neglected to take precautions with her!

Regardless of who bewitched whom, Rey had come to his bed untouched, putting the onus on him to protect her from potential repercussions. But he hadn’t; he’d put her at risk. She could be carrying my child even now. I want her, but am I ready for that kind of responsibility? he wondered.

Only vaguely aware of his mother standing up beside him and moving around the table to speak with Lady Bey, Ben allowed himself to envision what life would be like with Rey by his side. They could ride together, like when they were younger, read to each other in the library, have hours long discussions over dinner…and make love every night. There was so much he could teach her, so much she could teach him…and if she was pregnant, well…

The more he mulled over the idea, the less terrifying the prospect of fatherhood became. We might have twins, a boy to going shooting with Rey and a girl to practice calligraphy with me. They’d have freckled cheeks and dark hair and big hazel eyes…

As the appealing image formed in his mind, Ben decided that irrespective of what his mother or Luke had in mind, the only way Rey was getting engaged to someone other than him this holiday season was over his dead body.

——————

For as long as she’d known Ben Solo, he’d never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But in the past few hours, he’d admitted to being jealous of Finn, nearly seduced her on the dance floor and then on the patio, and now he was giving Poe dark looks as well.

What is going on? Rey stared down at her plate, pushing her venison around without really seeing it. It’s not like we’re engaged or anything, and he hasn’t once mentioned love, so why is he acting so territorial? I need to get him alone again and—

“I wonder what’s wrong with Lord Ren this evening,” Poe said, voicing her concerns.

Rey schooled her features, hoping no one else had noticed Ben’s strange behavior. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t you? Ren looks like he’s contemplating murder every time he glances in my direction. Have I done something wrong or is the wild mushroom soup not to his liking?” he inquired.

“Well, he does hate mushrooms,” she said drolly. I’m not sure how he feels about you, though.

“I’ll just assume the soup is the most likely culprit, then,” Poe chuckled. “What a relief! I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of my old schoolmate; he’s a real fire-eater.”

“You have no idea,” Rey mumbled, knowing full well how it felt to burn up in Ben’s arms.

Something in her tone must have given her away because Poe looked suddenly suspicious. “Is there something you want to tell me about you and Lord Ren?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she denied, glad that Han appeared to be lost in conversation with Baroness Kanata. Please, keep him busy for me, Maz, because I don’t think Poe is going to let this go.

“No? Judging by your behavior, and Ren’s, there seems to have been a development in your relationship since the last time we spoke,” he said speculatively.

“You’re just imagining things,” Rey gulped, reaching for her wine. He’s definitely not going to let this go.

“Careful, love,” Poe cautioned, gently steadying her hand to keep her from knocking over the nearly full glass of claret.

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly, setting it down again without taking a sip.

“You’re welcome.” Then, more seriously, “Even if you don’t want to tell me now, just know that you can always confide in me, Rey. I’m no gossip.”

“I know,” she replied solemnly. “You’ve trusted me with so much about your own life, but I—I’m scared. I did something brash last night, something that could have lasting consequences...”

“Rey, I’m sure whatever you did is—”

“I seduced Ben,” Rey confessed in a rush. “I don’t know what came over me, but I went into his room and took my nightgown off and I—we—and it was wonderful—but now he’s acting strange and possessive and I don’t know what to do!”

Poe hid it well, but she could tell that she’d shocked him. “You went to him?”

Rey squared her shoulders, determined to take responsibility for her actions. “I did.”

“And he didn’t turn you away?” he said in surprise.  

She shook her head, puzzled. “Should he have?”

“Not necessarily,” Poe said without judgement. “Ren must want you very much to risk being ostracized by his own family, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“I can’t imagine Lord Skywalker will be pleased that his nephew deflowered his adoptive daughter,” he said bluntly.

“But it wasn’t Ben’s fault!” she protested. “I seduced him, remember?!”

“Rey, Ren is a man. An experienced man, at that. I can assure you that it will matter very little to your father whether you initiated the situation or not,” Poe said plainly. “Skywalker may not be very traditional, but he’s still your guardian.”

“Oh, I…hadn’t thought about it that way,” Rey grimaced. “What should I do then? I can’t imagine not seeing Ben anymore, but I don’t want to hurt Luke either.”

“As long as you’re discreet, I wouldn’t worry about it too much about it for now,” he offered. “Your father doesn’t strike me as particularly perceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“No, he’s not,” she agreed. “There’s always been something between Ben and I, a special connection as it were, but I don’t think Luke has ever noticed.” Rey relaxed a little. “Thanks, Poe.”

He waved away her gratitude, looking mischievous. “So…” he muttered, leaning close, “did you enjoy yourself?”

“That’s none of your business!” she blushed, surveying the table to make sure no one was listening, least of all her wayward relatives.

“Of course it’s not,” Poe conceded, lowering his voice. “But did you?”

Rey bit her lip, vacillating on whether or not she should answer.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to repeat anything you say, no matter how raunchy.”

“I know you won’t,” she sighed, playing along. “Alright, yes. I enjoyed myself. Immensely.”

“And he didn’t hurt you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, the experience was…umm…satisfying.”

“Good.”

“Is that all?” Rey said sarcastically. “Any other personal details you’d like to know?”

“Just one,” he said dryly. “Do you want to sleep with him again?”

“Poe!”

“In for a penny, in for a pound?” he grinned.

“Well, I—I wouldn’t say no,” she stammered.

“And what about him? Do you think he still wants you too?”

“I don’t know,” she said evasively.

“Rey.”

“Maybe?”

“You don’t know?” he teased. “I could always go ask Ren directly, I suppose.”

“Don’t you dare!” she yelped. “Yes, okay?! Happy now?”

“Are you?” Poe asked rather pointedly.

Rey was quite for a moment, caught off-guard. “You know, I think I am,” she said in amazement. “I think Ben’s wanted me for a long time; maybe even as long as I’ve wanted him. He was careful to never let on, you see, but by the way he performed last night…”

“Then you know what you have to do,” he said with a playful wink.  

“I do?” she said bemusedly.

“Really, Rey?” Poe rolled his eyes. “If you’d like to continue your…relationship, I suggest you ask Lord Ren to make an honest woman out of you first.”

“Marriage?” she gasped.

“Is there another word for satisfying your natural urges without societal contempt?”

“But I’m nobody,” Rey asserted. “Why would Ben want to marry me?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said sternly. “Earl Johnson said you’ve been made Luke’s legal heir. If that doesn’t make you more attractive on the marital market, I don’t know what will.”

“But I don’t want him—or anyone—to fancy me simply because I may or may not be inheriting a fortune,” she frowned. “And I really do wish Finn would stop spreading that rumor around. I haven’t even discussed it with—”

Rey stopped speaking as Artoo came around to remove their dinner plates and set the table for dessert.

“Buck up, darling.” Poe pushed back his chair. “You’ve always felt a special connection with Ren, right? I’m sure he feels it too.”

“Perhaps, but where are you going,” she said sharply.

“The loo,” he laughed. “Sorry, love, but nature calls.”

Rey worried her lip. “But what if Ben approaches me while you’re gone?”

“I’m sure you can handle him, Rey. You’re no shrinking violet.”

“I know,” she snorted. “It’s just…he makes me so crazy sometimes that I want to���”

“Kiss him? Marry him? Bear his children?”

“Now that would be telling.” 

——————

A/N: I’m actually kind of hoping that the title to EPIX is such a spoiler that they’re not even going to tell us what it is! I don’t know, I just think it would be super exciting to go into the movie with a little surprise dropped into the title scrawl XD Thanks for reading! Please review! 

[onwesterlywinds]

Hope Obstructed

Part of my Godhands series, set in Ala Mhigo roughly in the year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-three years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and thirteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

Content warning for sexual assault, abduction, and body horror.

It's all your fault.

Sigrid hung from her manacles like a marionette on worn strings, her back arched against the cold stone of the catacombs, watching Brynhilde Riot decay from afar.

You brought this upon the both of you. You asked her for the help in the markets that she so willingly gave. If only you had kept to your loneliness, you could have spared her death and yourself this torment.

If only you had not thought to love her.

Time passed thusly, with only the work of death to indicate the procession of days into weeks. Blackram's knights would enter the tomb on occasion, always cowled and masked and gloved, to deliver her water from a skein. She fought them at first, straining against her wrought-iron bonds with all the impotent hate in her heart; she would deny them if it meant spitting her nourishment back into their anonymous faces. Such vain rebellions had proven too taxing to maintain when no sign came of their lord. She would not beg - not for her release, and certainly not for him.

You know what he wants from you - yet still you long for him. Don't you, Sigrid? There's no need to be so cold.

She could not escape from her fate; she could not so much as turn her head from it. Her prayers to her father's god grew feeble instead of fervent, her ribs jutted out prominent from beneath her paling skin - and those changes were still nothing compared to those that overtook her dead lover.

And as her resolve crumbled piece by piece, as surely as the stone to which she was chained, she began to wail.

I'm so sorry.

Please.

Forgive me.

Her wordless shrieks resonated - throughout the catacombs, throughout the deepest reaches of the Undercity, she imagined - and if they could not take on a life of their own, if they could not bring the capital down around her head, they could at least send forth the last vestiges of the woman she had been.

When at last one of the visiting figures removed his cowl to reveal Blackram's own face, her throat was raw from screaming, and her gut burned with need, and his dark gaze was hungry upon her-

"My dear," he whispered. "I could never not forgive you."

He stepped forward and pulled her closer with his poisoned, shriveled hand, wrapping his arm tighter about her shackled body until the chains rattled their protest. It was the first she'd been touched since the start of her solitude, since he had carried her here himself on the orders of the red-masked figure whose voice sounded so very much like her innermost thoughts. The warmth of him was heady; a heave crept further down her throat as he drew himself ever nearer. His rotting flesh stank worse even than Brynhilde.

To think that Brynhilde lay so close while this monster grasped at her.

Brynhilde would never have lain down for a tyrant. Sigrid, too, had once thought herself above such degradations, before everything down to her death had been stolen from her. The most she could do now - or perhaps the very least - was lift her head, confront her fate, meet her ruin impendent, unflinching.

She received Blackram's fixated stare and saw herself then, through his eyes, and hated the wretched thing she found there. She blinked in a vain effort to clear her head and beheld him as a blank-eyed corpse folded in a violet wing fashioned from half a shroud. She blinked again and he was upon her, so close that she retched, tracing one of his good fingers along her ribs, clawing his dead right hand upward to caress the small of her back-

A dark tumult washed over her at that contact, a current of thoughts and feelings and senses too heavy with fascination to be her own - Blackram's mind bared to colonize her, supplant her, make her theirs.

There we are.

She could no longer hope to free herself, not when she so scarcely recognized the half-dead idol draped across his arm. She could only observe, paralyzed in mind and body, as he offered up their intermingling threads to treat with something far beyond them both.

You haven't been Sigrid for a long time, anyroad.

Would it be so terrible to let the last of yourself go?

Pressing himself against her naked frame - he was warm, so warm, the only warmth she'd known in far too long - Blackram reached to unlock the manacles binding her to the catacomb wall.

She stifled her screams with his mouth and met his contact in kind.

A storm raged in the city above, and Ashley was too far beneath the earth to determine whether the winter night had blown in rain or snow. He knew only the cold. He and Marco lay together on a thin, bare and stained mattress, the only shelter they'd been able to find for the night. Not even curling up together like children, arms thrown around each other, could abate their trembling; the cold sapped them of all their strength until it exhausted even the hope of sleep.

On such frigid nights, Ashley remembered his mother's blanket, locked away in Marco's safehouse. He would try to convince himself that he would not want it with him here, that he would rather spare it the indignity of the damp and mold; then he would look beside him to Marco's thin body, so prone to shivering as it was, and would wish once again for even a minute of the comforts of home.

And above it all, the wind howled through the depths of the Undercity like a scream from the six hells.

"N-Never been this bad," Marco mumbled through chattering teeth.

"The cold?"

"Nah. The wind." Marco let out a loud groan, then, as if at last resigning himself to a restless night, gave a shrug. "They say you're supposed to be able to sleep through anything down here." As if in answer, another screeching cry tore through the stone tunnel. "'Course, that's a crock of shite."

[darkpoisonouslove]

Nightmares

Gruvia week 2018 day 6. Late (as usually) because I kept procrastinating like crazy. Anyway, I hope you’ll like it.

It was a lovely sunny day and Juvia was surprised that there was no one in the park. It was usually full of people even on rainy days. She supposed that some people were not afraid of rain. And neither was she anymore. Her days as the rain woman were over. She could enjoy the sunlight now.

She closed her eyes and sighed in content, feeling the sun rays caress her skin. Yet, something seemed off. There was a tingling under her skin. As if something was crawling underneath it.

She was suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings. There was something in the soil. No, not in. Under. It was calling to her. She could feel it in her bones, flowing through her veins. It was urging her to let it out, allow it to roam free.

Her hands started shaking from the force she was using to contain the destructive energy and she clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her skin, bringing her out of her trance. She noticed that the sunlight was gone. She looked up and saw thick dark clouds covering the sky. They had appeared so quickly. As if she had summoned them. But that wasn’t possible. The rain that had chased her all her life had been banished when she had fallen in love with Gray.

A drop of water fell on her hand, startling her. She hadn’t realized she had started crying. Her fingers brushed against her cheek but there was not a trace of moisture there. Another drop fell on her nose and her stomach got tied in knots. She outstretched her arm, her palm was turned upwards. Another raindrop landed on it. The water felt strange against her skin and was colored in a purplish shade that looked very familiar. Juvia’s eyes widened when she recognized it.

“This is my tale,” Keyes’ voice resonated in her mind.

Juvia shook her head in an attempt to shut him out of her mind. She tried to gain control of the rain but to no avail. Instead of stopping, it started pouring violently as if in confirmation of his words. Every raindrop felt like a whiplash against her exposed skin.

She tried to run away but something held her back. When she looked down at her feet, Juvia saw that her boots were entangled in the grass that was no longer green. It looked yellowish and ill, almost dead but not quite. Despite its fragile appearance it was strong enough to hold her down.

Juvia kept struggling against it but it only seemed to tighten its grip on her. It grew longer, creeping up her legs and snaking around them like tentacles. It was taking over the whole park as if nurtured by the rain, supplanting the healthy grass.

“What’s going on?” Juvia shouted but it was drowned out by the sound of the downpour and she barely even heard the words herself.

She received a reply inside her head though. “My tale only needs a little rain to blossom into its finest version.”

“No.” Her blood ran cold when she realized what he meant.

That was when she heard it. Despite the raging storm, she could make out the sound of something digging from underground. It didn’t take long for the first skeleton to show up. It was a tiny creature which she did not recognize. It must have been buried for thousands of years until Keyes’ magic mixed with her rain had brought it back.

Other skeletons started popping up too and soon there was a whole army. Most were tiny dead animals that must have lived in the park. But the rain was pouring over the whole town and who knew how many corpses rested beneath.

Keyes’ must have sensed her thoughts - or maybe even heard them since he was inside her head – because he spoke again. “Human beings are indeed such convenient tools. Thanks to you your friends will join my experiments.”

“N-No.” It came out strangled since his words had knocked the air out of her lungs. “Juvia won’t let that happen. Water slicer.”

The water blades cut through the grass that had already reached her knees and was squeezing her with almost enough force to crush her bones. Juvia ran as fast as she could but at every step the resurrected plants and animals were trying to grab at her and slow her down. She could not allow it.

“Water Cane.” The whip-like structure sliced through the grass like a scythe and shattered into pieces the skeletons it came in contact with, clearing a path.

After that initial obstacle she almost didn’t encounter any setbacks. The skeletons that had washed over Magnolia did not pay any mind to her. As if Keyes wanted her to find her friends and see the horrors he had in store for them.

When she reached the guild she was completely out of breath and could barely stand on her legs. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep moving despite the pain. She had to find her friends.

First she heard Lucy’s joyful laughter. She turned at the direction from which it came and her jaw dropped. Lucy was with a woman that very much resembled her. Or at least she would if she wasn’t a rotting corpse. Half the skin of her face was missing, her eyes were gone and Juvia could see her intestines through the hole in her stomach but Lucy didn’t seem to notice. She looked on cloud nine.

Juvia was uncertain of what to do. Her friend did not seem in danger and she had yet to find Gray. Lucy would probably be fine if she left her alone for a few minutes, just enough time to look for Gray.

She was about to turn around and proceed with her search but just then Layla opened her arms, inviting her daughter to hug her. Lucy did not hesitate even for a moment and sunk into her mother’s embrace. Her smile soon faded though when Layla’s arms closed around her like the jaws of a vise and her features contorted into pain. She was going to be killed by her mother’s affection which she had missed so much.

“Wings of love.”

Juvia’s magic pushed the two blondes apart, sending them flying in opposite directions. They both hit the ground heavily but the water mage was happy that Lucy was saved.

“Mom,” Lucy screamed in panic and dashed to Layla as soon as she got back on her feet.

Her mother met her with open arms and clutched her once again.

Juvia was at a loss. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t keep attacking them. While Layla was already dead, she could hurt Lucy. Besides, she had to find Gray.

She was still contemplating her next move when she heard Natsu’s voice. She debated whether it was a good idea to leave Lucy like that but she had no clue what to do anyway. Maybe Natsu would be able to help her.

She ran back outside from where his voice was coming. She froze in her place when she saw the enormous red dragon standing outside the guild. Natsu was standing in front of Igneel, looking giddy like a kid who just received an entire basket of candy.

The dragon looked a bit better than Layla but his jaw was now consisting of naked bones with no skin to cover them. However, that did not stop him from breathing fire directly at Natsu.

Juvia expected her guild mate to eat the flames but he did not do anything of the sort. He seemed too engrossed in staring at Igneel to notice that his scarf and his hair were already smoking. Even a fire dragon slayer could only take so much fire.

The dragon didn’t seem to agree though because it prepared to breathe fire again.

“Water bubble,” Juvia managed to activate her magic in time to protect Natsu from the fire. She had to find a way to snap him out of his state if she wanted to be of any help to anyone else. She couldn’t babysit him when there were other people who needed help. Like Gray. And Lucy.

A deafening roar made her jump. The source turned out to be another dragon which she recognized. It was Metalicana – Gajeel’s dragon. That was confirmed by its appearance and by the iron dragon slayer standing in his feet and looking like he might start crying any moment now.

This dragon was not in top shape either. His wings could no longer take him up in the sky in the condition that they were in. There were a few metallic pieces still jutting out from the bones but that was all. He had sure seen better days.

Judging by what had already happened, Juvia assumed that Metalicana would also try to kill Gajeel. She had no time to do anything though. The dragon lifted its front left leg and crushed Gajeel underneath it. The ground shook.

“Gajeel-kun!” Juvia’s desperate scream was lost in the clamor. She turned her back towards the iron dragon when he made a move, not wanting to see the crushed body of her friend.

Her eyes landed on Silver. He looked almost the same way he had the last time she had seen him. Except for the missing skin of his chest. She could see his heart that wasn’t beating. In front of him was standing Gray.

Juvia’s heart leapt in joy when she saw him. At least he was fine. But not for long.

Silver raised his hand ready to dish out some magic at his own son. And Gray probably wouldn’t do anything to protect himself. Which left her no choice but to do it for him.

“Water lock.” That wouldn’t hold Silver forever. He’d probably manage to escape just like his son had but Juvia didn’t want to hurt him. Not again.

“Juvia, what are you doing?” Gray yelled at her, his face contorted in both horror and anger.

“Juvia is sorry, Gray-sama, but I promised your father to protect you.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she gritted her teeth, trying not to crumble under his gaze.

“If you don’t free him, I will never forgive you.” Gray’s eyes were blazing with fire and she felt as if she would be burned alive.

Juvia shook her head, tears of helplessness and self-loathing spilling down her cheeks. She couldn’t let Silver go. She would keep her promise to protect Gray even if it meant losing him forever. But the hate in his eyes was too much to bear. She closed her eyes.

“What are you going to do now, water witch?” Keyes’ voice sounded once again in her mind, followed by his cold laughter.

It was coming from every direction, surrounding her. She was trapped in the whirlpool of his cruelty, unable to take a breath. Her knees hit the ground and a desperate sob left her mouth. She was shaking.

“Juvia,” Gray’s voice reached her and her heart clenched in her chest when she noticed how worried he sounded. She had failed him. And his father too. Her body was shaking even more violently.

“Juvia,” Gray said again but it didn’t matter.

She was slipping into darkness. At least she wouldn’t have to live with the shame of her failure.

“Juvia!”

Her eyes snapped open and she saw Gray’s concerned gaze. He was looking at her with so much love that she wanted to cry again. She must have gone to heaven.

“Thank God you woke up. I was starting to panic.” Gray managed a little smile even though he was still visibly worried.

“Wake… up?” Juvia finally put two and two together. “It was a dream.” Great burden fell from her shoulders when she managed to tell the dream apart from reality.

“Try with nightmare.” Gray brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?”

“Keyes’ necromancy had merged with my rain when I had taken in a part of his magical barrier particles and he used it to bring back the dead.” Her lower lip trembled at the memories.

Gray hugged her. “Keyes is gone and so is the rain.”

“I think it came back because of his necromancy. It revived that part of Juvia,” she whispered and her eyes watered just at the thought of going back to that life when she didn’t know the sunlight. When she didn’t know Gray.

“It’s alright. It’s gone now,” Gray said and put a kiss on the top of her head.

Juvia pulled away. “Juvia had to hurt Gray-sama’s father again.” The tears started flowing just like they had in her dream. “Juvia didn’t want to but it was the only way to save Gray-sama.”

“It’s fine, Juvia,” Gray wiped away her tears and pulled her close again, prompting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Gray-sama lost his father because of Juvia,” she said and the self-accusatory tone stabbed him in the heart.

“That’s not true,” Gray said and before she could argue, he added, “I haven’t lost him. He’s right here with us.” The devil slayer tattoo on his hand became visible. “And he’ll always be here to protect us both.”

Juvia’s fingers tentatively brushed against the tattoo. The tears had dried and a faint smile was tugging at her lips. She had been right. Nothing could sever the bond between humans.

[anotherbleachimagines]

A Soft Epilogue

Fictober Prompt: “You will love them in the end, like they said.”

This piece is going to be about the three universes/canon deviations that if you’re curious are found here and Shiori’s realizations of love and their love in return in each of them.

Also I’m sorry for my sudden disappearance after Halloween -- I had a migraine and basically just sat in the dark for the rest of the week. But I’m working on new material now, and should hopefully have a queue back either tomorrow or Tuesday.

Shinji Hirako

She realized she loved him when it was too late – standing in her Captain’s office when she’s informed that he, and everyone else sent on the hollow containment mission last night were dead. Lieutenant Shiori Nakano stood stock still as Captain Ginrei Kuchiki looked her in the eyes and said the words that made her world collapse around her that everyone that she cared about in the Seireitei was dead or exiled. Her thoughts were of Shinji, that she’d never smell the floral shampoo he used again, or feel the way she did after he kissed her upon returning from a long absence, even his ridiculous music player and the cheeky smile he’d give her after she’d complain about it. “I’m sure you’d make better music, doll.”

Their arrangement was supposed to be simple, sex and occasional flirting – it’s what any Captain or Lieutenant needs to unwind and up until this moment, it’s all she thought of it as. The two of them made it easy; she was calculating and precise, always knowing the perfect times to come and go, and had the best excuses for being exactly where she shouldn’t be. He provided the calm air to it all, that it was easy and they never had to worry about being caught because, “Who would ever believe that these two polar opposites could ever end up together?” It always made her smile when he’d say those words, because somehow, it felt right that they did fit together so well.

Seeing him again, alive and right in front of over brought so many conflicting feelings to bloom in her chest – it had been one hundred years, time which she used to move past those feelings that she wasn’t allowed to have in the first place, to mourn him and her friends and move on. Instead, she left the Vizards line of vision before any of them could see her. It was too soon and she needed to quash the feelings that she shouldn’t have before anyone reads the emotion so easily carved onto her face.

The months following the final fight with Aizen had been hard; she had worked on mediating terms between Hueco Mundo and the Seireitei as well as trying to make reparations to the Vizards after everything that had happened over the last hundred years, her own relationships were included. Hiyori was mad at everyone and Lisa seemed far too calm about their treatment and wouldn’t accept apologies – at least not from her. The other Captains and Lieutenants she knew, but her damning trait was how poorly she socialized and she regretted it while trying to fix what had been done. Last was Shinji, to any of the Vizards of the Lieutenants who had been ordered to stay with her in the world of the living, their relationship seemed unchanged, occasional verbal sparring and snark was expected, a Captain now, she was willing to give just as much as she took. They both knew though; one hundred years changes people, and Shiori knew that deep down, they all felt that they had been abandoned - by the Seireitei, by the Thirteen Court Guard squads and especially her.

It was late autumn now, a chilling breeze seemed to soak through their clothes while sitting on a roof of a random building in Karakura town. Shiori rested her head on Shinji’s shoulder and she couldn’t hope to hide the small smile that slid onto her face, it had taken one hundred years, thinking he was dead, killing his former lieutenant and rebuilding trust that had been lost in thinking she had abandoned him. And yet… here they were, fingers twined together enjoying the stars and relative peace of Karakura town, pressing a kiss to his cheek she couldn’t help it when she whispered in his ear, “I love you, Shinji.”

Toshiro Hitsugaya

It didn’t start out as love, hell, it didn’t even start out as mutual trust. After being made Captain of Squad Five in the aftermath of Aizen’s defection and the madness that had consumed the Seireitei in the wake of the Bounts and repairing all of the damage that was caused she had to get away. Too many people that questioned her ability, her demeanour, her… everything. So when the Head Captain requested volunteers to go to the World of the Living she was among the first volunteers. It was a welcome reprieve; and seeing Yoruichi and Kisuke again was definitely a welcome bonus, she missed her friends dearly.

Toshiro was suspicious, and Shiori knew, that were she in his place, she’d most likely feel the same way. Every one of the Lieutenants and the Captain himself had seen her as their strict, distant kido instructor - not someone powerful enough to be a captain, or even a seated officer, so to go from their proverbial nothing to a Captain in a matter of weeks was enough to make anyone leery. She proved capable though; more than capable, really. He watched her defend the Lieutenants at the battle in Karakura town, realized that she was part of Urahara’s and Tessai’s plans to keep the town safe, she proved to every Captain and Lieutenant that day that she truly was confident and worth of the title that so many thought was tokenly bestowed upon her.

When they returned to the Seireitei, she became a different person – not a teacher, not a mentor, but a friend, often coming his office long after their Lieutenants had left, bringing her own paperwork and food for the both of them. It started then, for the both of them, it wasn’t love, but a fondness for each other, enveloped in her stories of the Seireitei and her genuine questions of his wellbeing and forcing him to take breaks. He rolled eyes at her crazier stories but always supplanted with some of his own, usually more tame, but she listened to them all the same, either while writing reports or eating dinner.

By the time of the Quincy War they were close friends; something that in hindsight, Rangiku ruefully admitted was bound to happen, “You’re both so serious all the time, of course they’d end up friends as the strict captains.” Shiori was pinioned for logistics and battle planning – keeping the fourth and the injured safe while still helping maintain the frontline of fighting by knowing where to send people and when. She knew everything that was going on, knew where her friends were and how they were doing – had to watch as friends were placed under Giselle Gewelle’s control, knowing that if she left to help them that more people would die so she was forced to watch. When it was finally finished, she was the first one out there, pulling Toshiro into the tightest of hugs and pressed a kiss to his lips, it was impulsive, more impulsive than they ever were, but after all of the dying and bloodshed, she didn’t care.

They were asleep, lying together on the sofa in the offices of the Tenth Division as the sun rose, papers were forgotten, scattered across the coffee table and floor with her head on his chest and his arms tightly around her. She awoke first and couldn’t help but smile – so much had changed in the years since the war, but this hadn’t changed, could never change. Her pointer finger traced the lines of his nose and lips and she pressed the gentlest of kisses on each of his eyelids, Toshiro grumbled slightly and pulled her closer and Shiori was soon greeted by jade eyes and a drowsy glare, she kissed him again, this time on the lips and with more force behind it, “Good morning, Toshiro.” He grumbled into her hair, as he pulled her back down to rest her head on his chest, and she couldn’t help but smile, thankful that the Captain of the Tenth Division managed to relax a little, if only with her, and she couldn’t help but whisper, “I love you.”

Byakuya Kuchiki

The first time Byakuya saw her his only thoughts were of how unremarkable she was, decent looking, but with the same black hair as everyone else, emotionless and unspeaking as she followed his grandfather around the estate. “This is the woman who’s supposed to replace my father?” It seemed impossible, she was small and weak and carried herself in such an undignified way, arms curled behind her while she slouched, all of which made her shorter than she already was. When she was introduced to him her bow was precise and deep as she told him how honored she was to meet him, he met her gaze only once and that’s as she straightened and that’s when he noticed that there was something behind the timid calm that she presented to his grandfather and the rest of the Seireitei, he could see it in those dark brown eyes filled with determination and a will she kept hidden.

Her return to the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was… exhausting. Emotionally, physically, mentally, Shiori was drained – she was still helping to organize the graduation tests at the Academy while helping her Lieutenant cope with her previous Captain’s defection and on top of all of that; there was suspicion, most of the Captains and Lieutenants now didn’t know her one hundred years ago. Didn’t see her on top of Sokyoku Hill. The expectation was for her to fail or defect and it took its toll. Many nights as of late had been spent wandering the streets of the Seireitei, at first, she was alone, but after about a month or so she was joined by Captain Byakuya Kuchiki. They were silent, but his earlier reassurances of her abilities and his confident demeanor did more to help her every day.

Byakuya asks her to join him when he went to his family’s private cemetery. They walked in silence; respect for those now gone as well as comfort in each other’s presence. Shiori had been here before; at his father’s funeral, she stood behind his grandfather with the Lieutenant of the Sixth Division Armband in place. He hadn’t cried that day, his face of one of determination, not sadness and she understood. It was the same look she had always hidden away. By the time they reached his father’s and wife’s graves they can almost feel a weight press down on them. The promise to themselves and others of what they would be; there’s hesitation when she reaches for his hand, gives him time to pull away without making it obvious or embarrassing but he doesn’t. Lacing her fingers with his, they continue to stand in silence, she knew she could never replace Hisana, she didn’t want to, but if he’s ready, she’d like to help him move forward.

The two Captains were sparring the first time Shiori realized she loved him, it was the one time that the two of them didn’t have to hide, no masking emotion or skill or taunt, everything was allowed when it was the two of them. He was a better swordsman by far, but her kido and shunpo edged out his by the slightest of margins; to those of the Fifth and Sixth Divisions watching, it was a dance. Her movements were precise and countered his sword with the smallest of margins while still casting something to offset his balance and rhythm. No one knew they were seeing each other, but Renji had bet half of his next pay that his Captain would win, so when he purposefully sidestepped into her bakudo she couldn’t help but want to laugh, Renji thought it was in the triumph of winning, but she knew that he did it just to watch his reaction when his Lieutenant realized he lost. They were walking to dinner together when she shyly looked over, “You know, you didn’t have to let me win, five more moves and I would have had you.” Before he could ask her what she meant, she disappeared, making him sigh – sometimes he had to wonder why he chose this woman.

The pond was full of golds and oranges and reds this time of year, Shiori sat alone on a solitary in the gardens of the Kuchiki estate. She thought of how the world had changed, since she had changed since she was sitting in this very spot almost one hundred years ago. Feeling his reishi before seeing him, Byakuya was greeted before he sat down beside her, eyes also seemingly fixated on the pond in front of them. “Did you know that we sat in this same spot almost one hundred years ago to the day?” He looked up at her then, pensive at first and then agreed – the night itself was awful, like an obligation to attend and play nice, neither of them were interested at the time and it felt… uncomfortable. But now, they sat in that same spot, his hand discreetly wrapped around her waist while discussing time long since past, she couldn’t help but smile, “I love you, Byakuya Kuchiki.”

[thelifeofascholar-blog1]

In Which the Scholar Homecomes

(Artwork: Composition in White and Blue, or Down the Drain. Ink on Paper. © The Scholar, August 2017)

There stood I, dear readers, ‘pon the walkway of the home of my infancy. Sad was I to have to behold it once again. The paint, a vague and indeterminate brown, seemed everywhere on the verge of sloughing off in one massive peel, and had been in such a state all of my conscious life. A pair of plastic chairs rested on the porch, which (between their accumulation of rain muck and their utter lack of regard for even the more basic principles of aesthetic design) offered a less inviting sitting place than the ground they occupied. I wanted not to proceed into this terrible breach, but I was a man on a vital mission. The very well-being of the woman that bore me depended on it.

I should mention without further delay that my moronic sister Doris’s car was parked at the curb. This was a most unwelcome sight. I have made it no secret in my past writings that Doris and her golem of a husband signify all the worst characteristics of those who have utterly abandoned their high culture and heritage in favor of a life of sloth and manual labor. What business did they have terrorizing my mother in her fragile mental state? I had to put an end to their machinations before any more lasting damage could be done. I took some solace in the fact that they had likely brought along little Nathaniel, their son and my ward, so that he could see up close how a man of dignity and class handles a crisis. I dusted bus floor grime off of my torn blazer and proceeded up the walk.

It was not without trepidation that I proceeded. Mind you I am a courageous individual (indeed, I braved the bus voyage here) but to cross that threshold was to risk more than just a physical return to my roots of squalor. How could I know with certainty that I would not be infected by the bug of triteness that has held sway upon my entire family? If I was to be the beacon of hope and fortitude that dear Mother so sorely needed (and desired, whether she knew it) I would have to exercise that fortitude now more than ever.

I brought one foot up upon the first stair of the porch and paused, battling my reticence to take another step. Stepping back down, I paused and took a breath. I attempted again, and again was paralyzed on contacting the porch. Withdrawing again, I reasoned perhaps I ought to try with the other foot. Still nothing. Some fortitude I was displaying at this moment, unable even to take the first step! I supposed I simply had to bear it as though removing the metaphorical banded aid (unfortunately, I have little experience in that regard, owing to the fact that I generally leave the dressing of wounds to my manservant Chip). I stepped back again, took a mighty heave of air, and stepped forward once more, only to be blocked again by my own discernment. With one foot on the first step and one foot off, I pondered my predicament.

The front door opened. In the exchanges that I quote hereafter, I have omitted my name, for it suffices that you know me simply as the Scholar. “Oh, it’s just C------,” I heard in the dreadful voice of Doris. Drat her hide. How was I supposed to help restore my mother’s sense and sanity with such senselessness as Doris’s in close vicinity?

She called to me. “What are you doing out there?”

I responded with due indignation, “That’s my business, and mine alone!”

“Were you going to come inside?”

“As soon as I am finished here!” I could not let on to that harpy of a sister that I had suffered a lapse of mental resilience. She’d never let me hear the end of it!

“Whatever,” she dismissed, reentering the home.

My exasperation with Doris gave me unnatural strength, such that only a minute or two more passed before I succeeded to lift the other foot and arrive upon the porch. I stepped forth and tried not to think too intently on the peculiar shade of nauseating brown that ornamented the front door as I took its knob in hand, twisted, and entered.

Even before my eyes adjusted to the murky, dim interior, the smell wafted into my nostrils, recalling the care-free and enlightenment-free times of my youth. I shuddered. It was the stale waft of old coffee and prosaic existence.

The aspect of the room said no less about my mother’s stagnant reality. Quaintly decorated, but all covered in a sheen of dust, nothing touched for there was nothing worth touching. Against one wall stood an ornate, though bawdily carved, hutch displaying a set of grotesquely saccharine porcelain figurines passed down from my paternal grandmother. Why these were on display rather than hidden away in the attic (or better, the landfill) I cannot hazard a guess, but that the poor taste of the man of the house had supplanted my mother’s own. Against the opposite wall sat a divan, emblazoned with garish floral patterns indicative of a less stylistically adept period in American upholstery practices. I knew the divan well from my youth, I am sorry to say.

Atop one of the couch cushions sat a workman’s bag, protruding from which I saw some sort of tool, perhaps a monkey’s wrench. Whatever sort of simian apparatus it was, though, to me it served a sole, dire purpose. It meant that my father was not presently at work.

At once I was on edge. At any moment he could emerge from some forgotten room or closet and force me to participate in a brain-liquefying conversation about hordes overpaid manchildren and their sporting matches. I abandoned my designs on doffing my traveling coat, though the house thermostat seemed to be maintained at a hellish seventy-five, for I had no desire to try my fortune with the coat closet.

He did not, however, emerge from that closet nor from any other space. Instead, my mother, my dear, tragic, socially downtrodden mother, entered the foyer from the neighboring parlor (what my father always called a “den”, as though we were a brood of cave-dwelling bears; He may as well have called it a “lair”). In any case, my mother emerged from the lair and addressed me.

“[redacted]!” she blurted. “I wish you would have called first. I could have made you dinner.”

“Mother,” I responded, “I had to come at once upon receipt of your missive. There was no time to call.”

“Oh, you mean my letter? I was just saying hello. You didn’t need to come all the way down here for that.”

A likely story. I would have to dig deeper to get to the meat of my mother’s agenda. It was odd, though, that she appeared not as the mentally exhausted pale and frail being I had expected. Rather, she was chipper, and coherent, and gave no indication of illness. I should have been overjoyed at this, but the perplexity of the situation outweighed any delight I might have experienced.

She continued, “but now that you’re here, why don’t you come into the den? The whole family’s here!”

Why? Why did everyone happen to be visiting on this very day that I decided to arrive? Why would they all be in the same space, tolerating each other? Something stank about this visit. There was a pernicious haze permeating the whole affair. I could not but assent to the wishes of she who brought me into the world, however, so I proceeded, though not without substantial caution.

Entering the parlor, the same cacophony met my senses that had traumatized me for years. The television was blaring nonsense about padded men hitting each other for a ball in the corner, and my father, in his unkempt nature, slouched in an armchair facing it with a fermented beverage in hand. Doris and whats-his-name, my imbecile brother-in-law, rested on a couch together, opposite my father, emulating his dishevelment. On the floor in front of them was their son, my nephew and ward Nathaniel. He held in hand some sort of portable video gaming device. I found his indifference to my entry vexing.

“Look who’s here!” my mother exclaimed. I cringed as my father noticed me.

“C------,” he bellowed, “Come over and give your dad a hug!”

“Yes, sir,” I replied in filial submission. I inched toward him and he made great strides to close the gap. I feared he would crush me in his meaty paws as he enveloped me, but thankfully I made it out of the embrace with my spine and my ascot intact.

“I trust you are well?” I asked. Let no one say I have no respect for decorum.

He confirmed that he was, and asked how were things at the university. Of course, I had not informed my relations of my unceremonious entry into my current sabbatical. “Quite, quite,” I responded.

Note that through all of this, while I played the model son, I was nevertheless as on edge as ever. What did they want with me? Why had they gathered? Why had mother written the letter that brought me here? An inkling of unwelcome understanding crept into my mind.

It was becoming clearer and clearer as the evidence presented itself. That my mother would lure me here with a cryptic letter; that my sister’s family would happen to also be present; that everyone would be seated in a common space with no regard for the necessities of silence or solitude; that my ward would not spring to his feet to greet his favored mentor; these all pointed to the fact that all had gathered here for a somber purpose.

All that I needed for confirmation was to hear one question:

“Why don’t you sit down?” my father asked.

There it was.

“Nay!” I cried. “You will not lure me with honey into this trap!”

My mother began to protest, but I would not permit her to continue, for I felt supremely betrayed at her orchestration of this.

“I know an intervention when I see one! You all have watched my academic pursuits in jealousy for far too long and now you wish to put a stop to them!”

My father feigned confusion as Doris looked on in disdain. Nathaniel continued at his game. I turned to my mother, whose face echoed that of my father.

“And you should be especially ashamed of appealing to my tender nature to fool me.”

I was done, both with the people and the place. I turned to leave, but was caught by surprise by Mr. Tate.

Mr. Tate, I have neglected to inform you, is a cat. He was my cat in a former time, brought into my life as a kitten, introduced by my mother in an endeavor to raise my low spirits, for I went through a period of great dejection and loneliness in secondary school as I came to terms with the fact that so much of the world is below me, and so little is worth my attention. I never much cared for Mr. Tate, but it was my onus to name the creature. Young and foolish me opted to call him after the Tate Gallery of London, an art institution I had longed to visit, a good deal of time before I discovered how little interest I had in the banal collections therein.

While I left my childhood home behind to pursue greatness, Mr. Tate remained behind to lick his own nether regions, a fitting metaphor for the rest of my family. As I advanced in status, so did Mr. Tate in years, until the present, in which Mr. Tate has now become a raspy, decrepit old feline, whose gravelly mewling recalls thoughts of death and decay.

It just so happened that Mr. Tate had thought it appropriate to repose himself upon the rug that covered the parlor entryway, just as I had come to realize my family’s malicious intent. Perhaps it was all part of my mother’s plan; perhaps she had lured Mr. Tate there with some fancy feline feast, for he was instrumental in what followed.

I turned to storm off, triumphant in my rebuke of the turncoats, and my foot caught against Mr. Tate. A great sandpaper wail tore through the household as Mr. Tate felt the kick of my wingtip. He darted away, just in time to avoid the rest of my frame coming down on top of him. I felt a great pain shoot through my ankle as I collided with the floor, the second time I had done so that day, and then blacked out, also the second time I had done so that day.

I regained my wits in a hospital bed, my foot set in plaster and my mind addled with some sort of opiate concoction. My ankle had twisted and cracked in the fall, and I would have to remain in a cast for the next several weeks.

Unable to afford an electric wheelchair and unwilling to abase myself with a manually-propelled one, I was at the mercy of my mother at that point. Returning to the home, I demanded to be taken directly to my room and I have only spoken since with my mother, avoiding the ridiculing glares of the rest of them. Mother claims that the family had no designs on intervention, but of course I have already seen that I cannot trust her. She brings me food and draws my bath, and that is the extent of our interactions. I have whiled away the time writing these accounts, and intermittently relaxing in a nice Epsom salt bath, and I must admit that I have grown quite fond having my mother serve me day in and day out. Perhaps I shall stay a while.

I do wonder, though, how Chip is doing.

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on http://austenmarriage.com/miss-austen-no-politician/

Miss Austen—No Politician, She

In this, the 200th anniversary year of Jane Austen’s death, we learn that white supremacists are co-opting the English author in support of a racial dictatorship, shocked opponents are claiming that true readers are “rational, compassionate, liberal-minded people,” and conservatives are chiding Janeites for assuming that great literature can be written only by great liberals.

All these political takes on Austen, yet whenever someone describes her political views, they get them wrong, because they have no idea what hers actually were. As an individual and an artist, she kept her political mouth firmly shut. She had other—I would claim—more important things to write about.

This silence can be confounding, for Austen lived in a time tumultuously like our own. Slavery—the “alt-right” issue of the day—was bitterly fought over. War, political corruption, and disparity in wealth had England on the brink of breakdown. Factory automation was destroying the middle class. Sound familiar?

Yet, when asked about her aunt’s political views, Caroline Austen, who wrote a memoir of the author, said: “In vain do I try to recall any word or expression of Aunt Jane’s that had reference to public events—Some bias of course she must have had—but I can only guess to which quarter it inclined.”

As today, the politics of 1800-1820 had many “quarters.” Radical Tories believed that God had put themselves and the King in charge; the poor deserved their lot because God had made them so. Radical Whigs, full of entrepreneurial zeal, believed that the poor deserved to starve because they were too lazy or incompetent to rise from their rags.

In between was a shifting coalition of moderate Tories, who felt a responsibility to those beneath them, and moderate Whigs, who sought to spread the political and social wealth—mostly to themselves, the rising business and technical class.

Lower-case “republicanism”—power to the people by putting them in charge, rather than an anointed king—drew the same reaction among conservatives then as “socialism” does today—the fear of the leveling of society (and power). A few desperate citizens pushed for revolt out of despair at the lack of economic and political justice.

Many of the issues are woven into the fabric of Austen’s work, but none plays out in the foreground. Thus, people take a slice here and there to justify their own political stances. Sheryl Craig, in her book Jane Austen and the State of the Nation, goes so far as to conclude that Austen’s novels are “carefully constructed texts … about political economics. The love stories came later.” Despite much great information in her work, Craig’s conclusion strikes me as exactly wrong.

A few feminist scholars were also described as “startled” to discover that a Wikipedia entry on Austen claimed she supported traditional marriage. Sorry, but she did.  Every woman in her novels outside of traditional marriage, unless she started out rich, ends up impoverished, disgraced, or dead. The women in traditional marriage end up happy—or make a conscious and occasionally odious tradeoff for its security (see Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins). What Austen insisted upon is that traditional marriage include love and respect.

Naval officers like Frank Austen needed patronage to move up in the navy; otherwise, an officer could languish for years. All but a wealthy oldest son faced an uncertain future.

  The poet W. H. Auden wrote a ditty noting that her supposed love stories actually describe the “economic basis” of society. Four of her six novels open with a reference to wealth, and conversations regularly involve finance. But this “economic basis” develops not through political discourse but through her factual descriptions of life.

Naval officers like Jane’s brothers needed patronage to move up in the navy; otherwise, an officer could languish for years. All but a wealthy oldest son faced an uncertain future.

Being dependent, women must be canny in their romantic choices (see what happens to Marianne and Lydia when they are not). The non-inheriting males must find a career (see all younger sons). The lower classes need patrons to move up (sailor William Price, along with Jane Austen’s sailor brothers).

One sees in these stories her liberal sympathies, but it is not a sympathy of class. While self-made naval heroes return from war to supplant the attenuated aristocracy in Persuasion, the author holds in equal esteem the dull but reliable Col. Brandon, the grouchy aristocrat Darcy, the energetic Mr. Knightley, the farmer Martin—anyone who shares the virtues of industry, intelligence, and generosity.

The telling issue of that era was the slave trade, which became illegal in 1807, when Austen was 31, in her maturity as an author. As I have discussed before, Edward Said and other scholars claim that she turns a blind eye, particularly in Mansfield Park, where the family’s money comes from slavery on a West Indies plantation. Paula Byrne and others, in contrast, claim that Fanny Price in Mansfield Park speaks “truth to power” about slavery.

As today, racial issues divided society. Economic and religious traditionalists supported slavery and evangelicals led the bitter fight to end it.

Austen’s admiration for the poet-abolitionist William Cowper and for Thomas Clarkson’s abolitionist book indicate her opposition to slavery. Despite a few anti-slavery winks, however, Mansfield Park does not prove

As today, racial issues divided society. Economic and religious traditionalists supported slavery and evangelicals led the bitter fight to end it.

these personal views. Apologists cite Fanny’s comment that, when she raises the issue of the slave trade with her family, she is met with “dead silence!” The inability of anyone to respond to her question demonstrates Fanny’s—Austen’s—moral rebuke.

  Only it doesn’t.

Fanny explains the silence: Her cousins simply have no interest in their father’s business, and Fanny does not wish to “set myself off at their expense,” by showing any curiosity about his topics. Earlier, she makes similar, maddeningly oblique comments. She could mean that she’s interested in the plantation reforms that were beginning to make slavery somewhat less horrific. We don’t know. Slavery adds a subtle metaphor about Fanny’s own lowly status, but Austen is too talented to turn her most complex novel into a political tract.

In attitude, Austen was a moderate Tory—the equivalent of a moderate Republican. Austen never challenged the existing order. Like the abolitionist William Wilberforce, she wanted to reform it—not abolish it. She believed in merit as the economic salvation for herself and her brothers. She was a proto-feminist in the sense that she was a pragmatist. Dependent on the men in her family for most of her life, she needed to be able to support, as well as express, herself. That ability became critical when her brother Henry’s bank collapsed, taking much of the family’s wealth with it. (Most of Jane’s funds were safely deposited in Navy Fives–stock paying five percent.)

Practical economic considerations fill her books, but to read the novels as political commentary is to miss the point. Austen creates a rich, original world in which complex, believable human beings interact at their best and worst.

Any political lessons flow from the way human characteristics manifest themselves at all levels in the real world. Life experience, not ideology, dictates any political take-aways from her plots. She demonstrates that women should be able to accept relationships on their own terms and to provide for themselves as their needs require.

In the 200th commemoration of her death, it is disquieting that these lessons of a woman’s right to basic self-determination remain too often unheeded—even disputed.