#they broke my heart with the reboot one D:

[stef-gallery]

[silverselfshippingchaos]

this is one of my favorite k.yohei moments!!

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Universe 180330: Android

Summary: Gabriel decides to tell Adrien the truth about Hawkmoth while Adrien stumbles onto a truth of his own.

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

There was no blood.

Skin, or what should have been skin, peeled back to reveal metal bones and veins of wire.

"Kid..."

Adrien pulled on the fake tissue. Watching as the biomimicry of his internal structure flexed in response to the pain that didn't come.

"Kid!"

He remembered his fifth birthday. Standing on the chair to blow out his candles because his body was too small. Remembered when he peeled off the tux that was squeezing him because he'd grown too big for it. Adrien remembered his childhood...

Didn't he?

"Adrien!"

His eyes snapped into focus. Plagg trying to pry his fingers away from the flap of fake skin that Adrien was pulling, pulling, pull-

Adrien let go and collapsed to his knees. Whatever technology he was made out of already working to repair him. The numbness fading and a burning itch taking it's place.

Fake pain. To prevent... damage.

A paw was placed on his cheek. Big green eyes gazing into his. Moisture congealed on the surface of his optical receptors. Simulating tears.

"P-Plagg?" His voice broke. "D-does this mean I c-can't be Chat Noir anymore?"

Plagg's tail stilled. "... You're not getting rid of me that easily," he promised.

Adrien nodded as his artificial heart slowed. The servos in his legs taking a long time to reboot.

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

Gabriel stared at images of the silver ring on his son's finger.

The shape was uncanny.

The people in charge of Adrien's photoshoots reported that he often disappeared when there was an akuma... Not that that said much, considering.

But there was also the Simon Says incident. One of his many blunders.

Chat Noir's temper reminded him so vividly of Emilie.

Gabriel straightened his back. No use wondering. He made his way quickly to Adrien's room and threw open the door without knocking.

"Adrien, I have something important to-"

His son's room was empty.

"What!? Nathalie!"

Nathalie and the bodyguard Gabriel was starting to think was slightly overrated rushed to him at his yell.

"Where is my son!? Find him!" Gabriel snapped.

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

Adrien didn't remember when Solitude first came out.

Understandable. He wasn't "born" yet. But that did mean that this film was the only recording of his mother that wasn't carefully curated for his consumption.

He wasn't sure what he was hoping to glean from it but... "Having a mechanical brain that records everything has to be good for something," he thought aloud.

"Like sniffing out that one bit of cheese that's gotten too rotten?" Plagg asked.

Translation: finding a clue about how much of his "life" actually happened.

"Is there such a thing as too rotten with you?" Adrien deflected with a smile instead.

"You'd be surprised." Plagg hid as they came into view of the movie theater.

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

Gabriel suddenly remembered that Adrien had come into his office earlier that day to ask for something... But Gabriel was too engrossed in the question of Chat Noir to pay attention to him.

What ... What was Adrien feeling when he came in?

He should know. The Butterfly made him know. Always. He couldn't turn it off.

But he could shut it out...

Suddenly the idea of akumatizing his son's bodyguard no longer felt like the smart move.

Gabriel ignored Nooroo's questioning look as he stopped fidgeting with the Butterfly brooch and reattached his tie. Activating the hidden elevator to decend from his lair.

He dialed the bodyguard and waited for the answering click. "I know where he is. Let him finish watching the film then escort him back once it ends."

Hanging up, Gabriel gazed up at the portrait of his comatose wife.

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

Adrien wiped at his photo receptors as the credits rolled.

The film was a passion project between friends with too much money. Which showed in clunky dialogue and weird scene transitions. And yet... Maman was an amazing actress. Embodying the isolation someone could feel even while surrounded by people.

The servos in his fingers whirled as his digits approximated a fist. It wasn't fair. Adrien didn't even have a heart just simulated responses.

It shouldn't hurt this much to see himself reflected in his mother's character.

His facial recognition detected the Gorilla a few rows behind him as Adrien stood. Here to guard Father's favorite toy.

Adrien barely acknowledged him as he walked back to the vehicle. Logic algorithms malfunctioning as he was temporarily overcome with the desire to have been born a car.

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

Gabriel stared at the expressionless mask of his son's face. Adrien had his mother's eyes. Gabriel had insisted on getting the color just right.

"Adrien-" Gabriel cleared his throat. "There is something I have to tell you."

"I'm not real."

"...What?"

Adrien's optical receptors simulated the reddening response as internal moisturizer was released. He walked up to one of the statues in his maker's office and punched the stone as hard as he could. Cracks spiderwebbing from the impact.

"Adrien!"

Pulling back his fist Adrien's optical receptors focused on the joints of his digits. "I'm not real."

"No!" Gabriel grabbed his son's hand. Fingers ghosting over his knuckles where synthetic flesh revealed metal bones. Hands freezing as realization hit him like a meteorite. "...How long?"

"Long enough." Adrien snatched his hand out of Gabriel's grasp as he stepped back.

"Adrien... son-"

"Don't." The tears in his eyes started to spill over. "Don't call me that. I'm not your son. You don't see me as a son. I'm just your fancy doll-"

"That's not true!" Gabriel insisted. "You mean everything to me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Adrien scowled. "Then how come you're never around!? How come I need an appointment just to ask if I can see Maman's movie!? How come I can't call you dad!?" Adrien's words echoed in the high walls of the mansion as his voice rose.

"... Nooroo, transforme-moi."

Adrien scrambled back. "No. No!"

"You are so much like your mother," Hawkmoth said, eyes gentle. "She wanted a son so badly before the end. So I moved heaven and earth to build her one. When we made you I wanted you to be just like her." His transformation fell as he reached out a hand to caress Adrien's cheek.

His son flinched from his touch.

... Gabriel let his hand fall. "You gave her such life Adrien. You gave her years the doctors said she didn't have because she wanted to spend more time with you."

For over a decade she clung to life for you. Developing plans and perfecting your future bodies so it would be like you were growing up like any other child."

"Astro Boy... She called me Astro Boy."

"Yes," Gabriel laughed. "She said it was my fault. For infecting her with my sense of humor."

"... Why?" Adrien asked, a thousand questions in a single word.

"I... I had to get her back. It wasn't fair! To take her from us when we had so much left to do! I... See her in you. Some days so strongly it hurts and I couldn't-" Gabriel took a shakey breath. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you. Any of it."

Adrien wiped at the tears in his eyes. Heart drumming in his chest. "So... I'm just a pet robot that looks too much like your wife."

"No! Adrien, no! I-"

"I'll be in my room." Adrien ran out of his father's office.

Leaving Gabriel alone. Like he had done so many times before.

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

Things were... Awkward after that.

Not least because Gabriel actually showed up for meals and attempted to engage with Adrien's questions about his own nature.

"How come I get hungry?"

"Some of your synthetic components require organic fuel."

"Is that why you control my diet so much."

"Well, yes."

"I want to know what I shouldn't be eating. And why. It's my body. I should be the one to decide what goes in it."

"Nathalie will give you a list."

"... Does she know?"

"...Yes."

Adrien stood abruptly, breakfast half eaten. "Excuse me, Father. I'm late for school."

Gabriel did not point out that he was in fact an hour early.

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

"How old was my first body."

"About three years. That is also the amount of time you spent in it before we transferred your consciousness to your five year old form."

"...How does it work?"

Gabriel shifted awkwardly. "Your old body is connected to your new one and-"

Adrien shook his head. "No, I mean, how am I built?"

In retrospect Adrien should've known seeing his past selves was going to be super creepy.

Even creepier than seeing his future body suspended in a fluid solution. His synthetic skin only grown down to the first abdomen. Leaving his gut and legs' inner workings exposed. The metal-synth musculature was a lot more anatomical than Adrien thought it would be.

It was a strangely comforting thought. That his future body would be even more human than his current one. Almost enough to offset the odd feeling of watching yourself sleep.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Every iteration is more advanced than the last. We may even be able to eliminate the filter problem with feathers in your adult self."

"I was wondering about that." Actually, Adrien was wondering if he could get abs in his next body but was too self conscious to ask.

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

Learning about himself was so distracting that it took Adrien a while to notice that Hawkmoth hadn't sent out an akuma since Gabriel revealed himself.

Or maybe he was simply avoiding having to deal with it. Adrien thought as he walked to his father's office. It was past the time Gabriel was usually busy with work but...

"Adrien. It's late. Isn't it a school night?"

"It's not that late," Adrien muttered, ignoring the silly warm feeling in his chest. "Father... You haven't akumatized anyone in a while."

Gabriel paused. His fingers saved his work and exited out of the program before giving his son his full attention. "I... Realized that I could only keep going as Hawkmoth... if I ignored your pain."

"... Oh."

Gabriel removed his tie and stared at the broach.

Nooroo floated out of his hiding place. "Master?"

"Hello," Adrien stepped closer as he held out his pinky finger for the kwami to shake. "What's your name?"

"I am Nooroo. Pleasure to meet you properly, Adrien." Nooroo shook Adrien's offered pinky with his own appendage.

"Is he what empowers the Miraculous?" Adrien asked, hand gliding over Plagg's hiding place.

"... What do you really want to ask me, Adrien?"

Adrien took a deep breath. "Don't you think it's time Nooroo went back to his own family?"

Gabriel stilled. "You... Want me to give them my Miraculous?"

"Please, dad!" Adrien walked up to his maker and held his hand in both of his.

He looked down at his son's pleading eyes. He could see it. Eventually, the temptation would be too great. The pain of this moment would fade among the sea of his grief and he would fall back into old habits.

And his son would suffer again.

Gabriel let go of the Butterfly and let it fall into Adrien's hands. "O-okay," he breathed. "Okay."

Relief bloomed on Adrien's face as he wrapped his arms around his dad. Gabriel returning the embrace.

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

"Dude, I can't believe you're a robot!"

Adrien's face fell.

"That's so cool!"

His head snapped up to find Nino's eyes sparkling in awe.

"Y-you don't think it's weird?"

"Eh," Nino wrapped an arm around Adrien's shoulders. "Normal's overrated."

Adrien smiled shyly. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Hey," Nino moved so his hands were on Adrien's shoulders and he was looking his best friend straight in the eye. "I get it. I still haven't come out to my parents even though I know they'll be chill about me being bi. You've got nothing to be sorry about my dude. I'm- I'm glad you told me.

Adrien wiped the blurryness out of his eyes. "Y-yeah."

Nino grinned "Now, c'mon bro! What kinda superpowers you got?"

"Well..." Adrien eyed the desk Nino had snuck into the boiler room. Carefully grabbing the edges to distribute it's weight more evenly. Lifting with his legs Adrien held the thing over his head.

Nino's eyes tried to pop out of his head. "Oh that is sick bro!"

Adrien set down the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. Smiling at Nino's reaction.

They fist bumped as the bell rang. Hurrying to class. Adrien felt so much lighter. He might not have revealed himself as Chat Noir but this... This was good.

He'd talk to Markov later. See if his... Compatriot? Could shed some light on being a robot. Who knows? Adrien grinned. He might even pick up a new trick or two.

[magicalmystery-muses]

Return of Clone Hedy

Just finished the first two episodes of the new Clone High and I REALLY loved it!!

It also kickstarted my muse for my old OC, Hedy Lamarr, so be prepared to see more of her!!

Once again thank you SO MUCH to @w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l​ for this gorgeous art you did of her a while back!!!

Reposting her bio with a few new additions:

Name: Hedy Lamarr

Original Historical Figure: Hedy Lamarr

Age: 16

2003 or 2023?: 2003

Sexuality: Bisexual

Other Info:

She has a habit of spreading herself thin: drama club, robotics, several AP classes…she feels the need to live up to the original Hedy Lamarr by being a jack of all trades like her

Best friends with George Washington Carver and his lil talking peanut

JFK tried hitting on her once and only once

Doesn’t let anyone forget she’s Jewish because so many people erased that about the original Hedy Lamarr

Speaking of which, her foster family is the same as Gandhi’s! She’s close to her foster brother (or should I say was, considering he’s probably not coming back for the reboot) and finding out that he stayed frozen broke her heart

Very into social justice and gets really annoyed with the approach that Topher takes and accuses him of being “just for show,” think that one scene in TAWOG with Gumball and Carmen

She and Cleo haaaate each other and Hedy would be lying if she said she wasn’t amused by Cleo’s sudden loss of popularity come 2023

Her prom outfit was 100% inspired by the famous star dress from Ziegfeld Follies

Looking up facts about the original and she was apparently shy IRL so I think I’m gonna pull a Joan or Ghandi and make her the opposite

I feel like she’d get along well with Frida and Harriet!

[strawberryvanillablast]

Lyrical Dissonance (Giorno X Female!Reader) (Slight NSFW)

For @bebeplum​ 

Sorry, I couldn’t find any other gif that matched :’D

. 

When he first met her, Giorno thought of her similar to a fairy or a pixie. Delicate, tiny, and innocently adorable with her (e/c) eyes shining. It did come across as a little odd as to why she would want to join the mafia, but Giorno chalked it up for her own personal reasons. After all, he was the same way. But when she joined, he promised to protect her from those who were willing to harm her. Just like he was when he needed to protect Trish. After all, she was a sweet, innocent, cute, and lovely girl lost in a sea of wolves (and Trish). 

Not that she’d ever know, of course. 

After all, it wasn’t as if he had a crush on her or anything. 

. 

It was a beautiful summer day in Naples and Bruno decided that they would all head out to Libeccio’s for lunch. As they made their way down the brilliantly hot highway, the radio was playing out a tune to occupy their while. Giorno gave an extremely small raise of his eyebrow at the song currently playing. It had some, ah, interesting lyrics to put it mildly. 

I’ll make you hot Make you rock I’ll leave the world in shock  He chanced a glance at Trish who was lip-synching to utter perfection along with Narancia trying desperately to follow along. But as he turned his glance to [Y/N], he blinked in slight shock. She was lip-synching as well and was just as good as Trish. As she continued to sing (or rather lip-synch), Giorno focused on her. 

Lip gloss and lollipop. The way her glossy (h/c) (h/l) hair bounced in time.  Let’s rock I wanna pop. Her plump lips, covered in a gentle pink lip gloss. Can’t take your eyes off of me. The little crinkle of her nose dotted in freckles.  I’m all that you see. The sparkle in her eyes that managed to take his breath. 

“Giorno,” Fugo’s voice whispered. “Giorno, you’ve been staring at [Y/N] for quite a while now. Are you alright?” 

Giorno blinked and turned to Fugo, who raised an eyebrow. Feeling a slight heat to his cheeks, he nodded and turned to look out the window, hoping that nobody would notice. But Narancia and Mista did and they looked at each other with the most devious of smirks. Narancia whispered something in [Y/N]’s ear and [Y/N], bless her heart, nodded with a happy smile.    It was about ten minutes that Giorno’s emotions cooled down some that another song began to play. This time, Narancia, Mista and Trish were singing quite loud at the chorus, to which Giorno and Fugo looked at each other in confusion. Now what was going on? Suddenly, the scent of coconut shampoo made itself known to Giorno. 

“H-Huh...?” 

My lips like sugar.  My lips like sugar.  This candy got you sprung. This candy got you sprung.

Her voice, soft and rich like velvet, was whispering in Giorno’s ear and down his neck. Immediately, his eyes widened and he turned to see starry (e/c) eyes. The plump pink lips that were begging to be kissed smiled in a purely wonderful way. 

So call me your sugar. So call me your sugar.  You love you some.  You love you some. 

She leaned in and whispered in a breathless hush, “I’m sweet like sugar~.” 

Giorno’s heart was racing as that beautiful face neared his, teasing him as those long eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings in his face. As his mind overloaded a mile a minute, he felt sweat run down his body and heat flush his face and neck. 

. 

Everyone, sans Bruno who was driving, watched as the Don of Passione himself was turning redder than a hot raspberry pie in the oven. His expression was that of a flustered man who had absolutely no idea what to do in a situation like this. 

A far cry from the stoic boy that brought Passione back to its heroic roots. 

“Giorno,” Fugo waved a hand over the Don’s face. “Giorno, are you okay?” 

“Oh my gosh,” Mista put a hand over his mouth in awe. “I think he’s in shock.” At that, he looked to Narancia who had a similar expression on his face. “I think we might have actually broke this poor man for the very first time.” 

“This just in,” Narancia chirped. “Giorno.exe has crashed for the first time in like ever! Put this down in the calendars or something!” 

 “No need,” Abbacchio smirked, holding a camera. “I recorded the whole thing.” 

[Y/N] frowned. Broke Giorno? She didn’t want to break Giorno. She thought that it would be a great bonding exercise for all of them. Determined to right this, she gently placed her hand on his cheek and caressed it. Oh, it was so smooth! She looked into his eyes, which were in a new dimension. 

.

“Giorno,” [Y/N]’s sweet voice chirped. “Giorno, can you hear me?” She pulled her bottom lip out in a pout and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, Gio. I’m so sorry! I thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.” 

“O-Oh, um,” Giorno blinked, looking at [Y/N]. They arrived at Libeccio now. “It’s fine, I promise. None of you meant any harm by it.” He gave a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks, Gio,” [Y/N] smiled. “It means the world to me!” 

And then, she finished it off by giving him a nice, deep smooch on the forehead. 

.

Bruno couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard everything and couldn’t help but smile. Even though Giorno was the Don of Passione, he was still just the same age as Trish and [Y/N], so there was no helping some boyish crush. He hoped that one day, Giorno would be comfortable enough with his emotion brain that he could tell [Y/N] about his true feelings. 

But for now, it would have to wait. Maybe there could be a chance at an internal self-discovery of the romantic heart. 

“A-Ah! Giorno, are you alright?” 

“Quick! Get some water!” 

“Buccellati, Giorno’s brain performed an illegal function and needs to reboot! He fainted!” 

...Or maybe there could be an intervention. That works too!

.

I always headcanon Giorno at someone who is very new to the world of romance and thus has no idea what to do. He may be adept at fighting. Romance on the other hand...

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

        Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

        “You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

        Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

        “Y/N.”

        “Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

        “No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

        Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship’ came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

        “Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

        “When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

        His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

        Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.  

        “What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

        “We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

        “Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

        Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

        “So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

        Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

        ***

        It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

        “Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

        “Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer. 

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

        “Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

        “Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

        “For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

        “You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

        “Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

        “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

        “Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

        “Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

        “Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

        “You don’t bore me. You could never.”

        He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

        “I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

        “No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

        Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really. 

        “Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

        Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

        “Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically. 

        But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

        “Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

        If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

        He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

        It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

        But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

        “Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

        “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

        And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

        Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

        Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

        The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

        As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room. 

        Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence. 

        “Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

        “Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

        With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

        But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

        “What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

        The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

        “Not until he talks to you!”

        That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind. 

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone. 

“Buck, what’s going on?"

        The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators. 

        But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

        “Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

        “Why?”

        “I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

        “Of me?”

        Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

        “Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

        “Yes, but this will change things.”

        “How?”

        “I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

        “Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

        And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

        “Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

        Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

        “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

        She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

        She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach. 

        “Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

        “I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

        When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two. 

        It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness. 

        “Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

        “I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

        “Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

        Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

        “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

        “Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

        Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

        “Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger​

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

[lightneverfades]

Frostiron AU (WandaVision) -  Episode 9

Here’s a few more of the WandaVision Frostiron AU I made! :)

Storyline: (Contains Spoilers)

< Story is set in an alternate universe set after Thanos is defeated >

Loki is alive, lives through the events of End Game but loses Tony in the fight when Tony sacrifices himself to use the Infinity Stones. Loki can’t cope with what’s happened and resurrects Tony from the dead and creates an alternate reality where they are in a sitcom, living as a happy couple... to shut out the real world.

Note: The fic is a continuation of this post here :D (Listening to this song while writing, it’s so good <3)

+

The walls around the Hex glowed ever so brightly in luminescent green, static energy fizzling in between its barrier. Dark clouds started to form as Loki chased after Agatha, who flew up effortlessly into the air with a laugh that echoed into the expanse, trails of black magic whirling around her.

“Give me everything you’ve got, trickster!”

Loki threw a ball of energy at Agatha, but the spell missed, hitting the other side of the wall behind her. It faded quickly back into the surface.

“Loki!” Tony cried out as he flew up to help. He attacked as well, shooting beams of energy in Agatha’s direction. One particularly nasty one hit Agatha and the witch hissed, her smile faltering. Her gaze shifted, her lips curling in annoyance and her eyes lit up in a darker shade of purple.

“Let the adults fight, mmm?”

Tony felt the blast of dark magic slam into him with full force. He thought he heard Loki’s shout of alarm, but his senses became somewhat numb as he fell, his suit shutting down temporarily as Friday blipped out with a “-Boss, I’m going to have to go into emergency shutd--!”

The ground came up to greet him, or rather vice versa, as Tony broke the concrete floor, creating a massive dent on the road. Pain shot through his whole body, begging for him to stop and quit moving altogether, but there was no way he was going to do that. This is our home! Tony thought furiously.

“Friday!” Tony called out, but his screen was absolutely pitch black.

With a groan of frustration, his helmet disappeared. Tony got up as quickly as he could, ignoring the terrible ache in his whole body and wincing at the cuts on his cheek and lips.

“Tony, are you okay?” Loki’s voice made Tony’s head turn and he saw the god flying over to him, his brows already furrowing as he caught sight of the blood.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tumble that’s all, nothing I can’t-” Tony hissed as a particular area he’d hit trying to protect his back argued otherwise. Loki reached out his hand to cover the cut on Tony’s cheek and Tony felt warmth as the pain instantly faded away. As soon as the glow faded, Tony knew the god had fully healed him from top to bottom. What was more, the suit was coming back to life and he could feel the nanobots shifting around his body.

“Thanks babe,” Tony smirked and Loki’s lips curled upwards. 

“My pleasure,” Loki answered in kind, a tinge of an American accent slipping through from the many timelines he’d adopted from his stay at Westview.

"Have you forgotten we’re not done yet, lovebirds?” Agatha’s voice called out from above and both men looked up to see the witch hovering above them, staring down at them.

“Haven’t forgotten, darling,” Tony shot back as his suit rebooted back to full capacity.

“Good,” Agatha spoke and she directed her gaze at Loki. “Won’t you just stop dilly dallying? I’ve been ever so patient with you lot. Perhaps I need to make things more clear for you.” 

Tony hadn’t quite noticed earlier, but he now saw that the citizens of Westview were now completely frozen in their place, their actions having been paused mid-action. Their eyes were the only thing that blinked, their lips pulled up in a smile that Tony could tell were make believe and imprinted. A chill passed through him as he realized in spite of his love for Loki, his god was also the one imprisoning these people in this place. 

Dark curls of energy lit around each of the citizens of Westview and their eyes lit up for a moment, before consciousness of their own replaced it. Each of the men and women holding their accessories or smiling at their fellow neighbors mid-conversation stopped what they were doing, and looked around in confusion. And then Tony saw it, their eyes all veering towards them and he could see the insurmountable pain and agony in their faces.

“Loki, Loki... please... please just let us go!” They chorused, and converged around them. “Please... we have your nightmares, we feel your pain! Please! I want to go back... I need to see my family! PLEASE!”

Loki’s hardened expression didn’t quite falter as much as Tony’s did, which made the situation even worse. “Loki, they’re right, you got to stop this-” 

“Stop what?” Loki countered and there was an edge in his tone that only Tony knew what it meant. It was full of anger but underneath it all, he could hear the agony within it. He reached out his hand to touch Loki’s cheek, placing his other hand on Loki’s chest. “You’re torturing them. I know you don’t mean it... I know, cause you’re not that kind of man. Stop it.”

“Mmm, Loki, yes, why don’t you?” Agatha sneered from above, her malicious smile growing ever more sinister. “Don’t you want to be good? Aren’t you an Avenger? You made an oath during the Blip, didn’t you? Thou shalt not kill, blah, blah, blah! But you know in your heart of hearts that that’s not true! You want your Tony Stark to stay intact, don’t you? So give me your power and I’ll grant you this fantasy! I’ll be your villain in your superhero origin story, hah!”

Loki’s frown deepened, “I can’t...” 

“Why, Loki?” Tony urged, hearing the ever growing pleas and cries of anger and suffering from the people of Westview. He felt the pain as if it were his own, and he winced every time he heard the hatred in the voices of the men and women. And they deserved to be angry - he hadn’t been aware until recently, but they were prisoners, made to play a role that is not their own. 

“Because I’ll lose you,” Loki whispered, the god’s eyes catching Tony’s and it was filled with sorrow. Tony flinched, but it wasn’t because of the statement.

“Then you weren’t the man I thought you were,” Tony spoke and he stepped back. He felt the arms of the men and women; desperate, ordinary people who he had pledged to save their lives as an Avenger, pull at his arms, crying and screaming, clawing for his attention. He didn’t resist; he let them take him.

The look of hurt and realization dawned on Loki’s face.

“Tony!” Loki reached out, trying to get to Tony but the man gave him a glare.

“Don’t come near me, Loki. Not unless you intend to undo this and set them free.”

“I will, I will...” Loki said but his voice was hesitant.

“Then do it, trickster! Heroes don’t torture people!” Agatha’s voice called out with a cackle/ 

Loki looked at Tony one more time and with that his eyes burned up. A gust of wind flurried around them and a surge of energy blasted out of Loki and towards the sky, tearing the barrier in half for a moment, creating a crack in between. The enormity of the action caused the god to lean back further, arms outstretched and his cape whipped behind his back harshly. 

“GO! ALL OF YOU, NOW... LEAVE!”

Tony heard the screams of the people as the ground shuddered and the town, which had been sealed shut by emerald barriers, start to split. He gently pushed the woman that had clung to him in desperation and whispered, “Go! Run! Go back to your family! I’m sorry!”

They all did, crying out and running for their lives as the Hex started to withdraw within itself. 

And then Tony felt it, the first anomaly he had experienced before when he stepped out of the Hex. First it was the strength in his arms, then quickly his legs, as something stole away the life in his body. With a pained heave of breath, his knees crashed onto the broken concrete. He could hear his heart drumming away fast at first, but slowly losing its speed. With it, he felt what he knew was Loki’s magic seep back towards his owner. 

“Loki-” Tony managed and Loki was crying, his eyes panic-ridden. With a agonized cry, the energy forcing itself out of Loki faded. The Hex started to ebb back, the four corners reforming back.

Tony wheezed as the pressure in his lungs and the heaviness of his body lifted a little, but he was far from okay. His body felt like it had been burnt and when turned to look at his arm, it was darkened and crisp and he realized the familiar sight. It was the same blackened state he’d found himself in once he’d used the Infinity Stones to stop... yes, he’d stopped Thanos and his army. I died. And I saw Loki, there, just before... He tried to revive me...

Loki’s hollow and agony-filled scream that penetrated the battlefield had been Tony’s last memory of his death before everything blacked out.

And here he was again, in Loki’s arms, the god’s face staring down at Tony with tears brimming on his eyelashes and freely falling down on his battered cheeks.

“Now do you see what you’ll lose?” Agatha said and her words were like knives.

Luminescent green light enveloped Tony and the magic did its work, life energy from one powerful being surging back into another. The warmth of the magic reignited, furiously pushing back the deathly grip that had threatened to take Tony away forever earlier. Tony gasped as the magic sped his heartbeat back to its normal pace and the right side of his body, which had grown limp and numb started to heal rapidly. 

"Don’t leave me, Anthony... not yet,” Loki spoke and leaned in, pulling Tony upwards so that his left arm was supporting Tony.

“Leave you...? Not a chance, Reindeer games,” Tony managed to teased, his voice coming back to him now. He wiped away at Loki’s tears with the back of his armored hand. The chuckle he heard from the god warmed him. “We’ve got unfinished business with that bitch.” 

A grin started to form on Loki’s lips at these words, “Yes, the witch must burn.”

[pidayforpi]

Alistair Boorswan walked down the street, past the lamp posts, avoiding illuminated areas.

Beak’s down. Hands in pockets.

Everyone knew him. Everyone knew he’s having a bad day. Everyone knew why he’s having a bad day.

It’s all on the news: The famous film director experienced his first project cancellation.

He who once walked proudly under the limelight, he who once strode with his head up...Gone in a single day, in a single fire.

He’s the first to make a reboot of the legendary Darkwing Duck. Now he’s the first to have the egg broken before it hatched.

To make it worse, he’s the first to ever seek funding from McDuck Enterprises. Now he’s the first to be refused sequential funding from Scrooge McDuck himself.

To make it even worse, he’s the first to allow a child to lead a film production. Now he’s the first to have his film production destroyed by a child.

Once the reigning king in the sector, now a joke in the industry.

If it wasn’t for the “mask” around his eyes, everyone could see the swan had been crying himself to sleep every night since.

Alistair pushed open the café door, the motion ringing the bell hanging from the door frame. It was awfully quiet in the café. Nice. Alistair didn’t want more attention. He’d had enough fun talking to the paparazzis.

“The usual?” Asked the barista. The owl behind the counters questioned his patron as he put away his book.

Alistair nodded. “No decaf this time, Franklin.”

The owl barista signed. “You ain’t gonna be up next morning, sonny. Don’t be a night owl like me.”

“Day and night seem the same to me, anyway.” Alistair said as he picked his usual seat: Next to the glass wall, observing the streets. “I would rather stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t have to deal with anyone this way.”

Even without looking at his face, Franklin could see his customer’s devastated expression. Shrugging, the barista started brewing Alistair’s favourite espresso.

“Whatever suits you, buddy.”

———————————————————————————————

The bell rang again as the coffee machine rumbled.

Franklin raised an eyebrow as he fixed the beverage, but didn’t look back. If someone wanted him dead, he would be dead no matter he noticed or not.

Alistair also didn’t notice. His eyes were so fixated on the street at night, his ears so focused on the sounds of the city, he didn’t realise he was no longer the only customer in the shop.

Let alone that customer was someone he didn’t want to meet.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

No response. Except for the sound of something metallic being dragged against the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time someone weird entered the shop. The shopkeeper had seen it all. But from the reflection on the silver coffee machine, the late night customer was someone he knew. Someone everybody knew. 
The duck sat in front of Alistair, dropping his huge chainsaw onto the floor with a thud. It was half the height of the duck, not to mention its spiked tip was stained with blood. The intruder took off his oversized fedora, and tossed it to his side. His feathers were ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just been in a fight. An odour of pungent sewage water could be smelled from his body. A crazed, blue-green colour could be seen from his double-layered irises. If it wasn’t late at night (and the blood-stained chainsaw), Franklin would had kindly asked him to leave the shop.

It wasn’t until the duck placed his order that Alistair noticed his new, unwanted coffee mate.

“A cup of cappuccino, boss.” Ordered the customer in his hoarse, sickly voice.

Franklin replied with a nod, hands still focused on fixing his last order.

“Roger, Mister Starling.”

Alistair snapped out of his ponder when he heard the name he had feared for a month.

He shifted his focused from the streets to the pale reflection on the glass window.

He’s right there.

Just when he thought fate had taken everything away from him, someone’s there to take his life as well.

Alistair felt his body move on its own, standing up and reaching for the exit. It was almost like a reflex arc. He didn’t have to know for sure the danger in front of him. He’s making a run subconsciously.

Of course, his unwanted guest wouldn’t let the host leave before being at least greeted.

“Sit down, swan.”

With just a command, Alistair was frozen in place. The chainsaw was not even touched, yet he obeyed the order as if his legs were being amputated.

He instinctively looked at his opponent, and he regretted that very moment. When his frightened eyes met the killer’s powerful gaze, the calendar on the wall shifted back to a month ago.

In a burning studio, a wide-eyed Alistair stared at the charged cannon. When it fired, he would be a goner. He knew the “props” cannons were real - He saw the kid ordered them, directly from the laboratory. Those particles weren’t just special effects. They were real, lethal electricity. One shot, and his fast beating heart would stop. It truly was a miracle Drake Mallard survived the attacks.

Alistair had never been more scared in his life. Nowhere to escape in the fire. Nowhere to hide in the rubbles. Running away was futile: There’s no way he could outrun a lightning bolt. He ruined Jim’s career, and Jim was going to ruin his life.

“Jim Starling never cuts!” was what Alistair heard when he rushed to the recording camera. Yes. The legendary actor never allowed any failure. Not by himself. Not by others.

Jim failed to eliminate him the first time, he’s probably finishing the job now.

Franklin took a peek at his back to ensure his patron’s head was still on his neck, and hurried with both orders. The only thing he could do to avoid a murder was to facilitate the conversation between the two artists.

On the other hand, Alistair sat down meekly, hands on his laps, legs hanging straight down. Opposite of him, Jim got himself comfortable on the chair as if on a throne: One hand on the table, another supporting his tilted head. He sat cross-legged, his right leg hanging lazily on his left one.  The only thing left to complete his criminal mastermind persona was his signature grin, which showed his sharp, menacing fangs.

But Jim right now was wearing a frown instead.

Alistair wasn’t more comfortable, though. He started fidgeting his fingers, his hand movements speeding up for each second Jim remained silent.

It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to break, thankfully.

“An espresso for you, and a cappuccino for you, good sirs. Enjoy.”

Franklin emerged from behind his counter, delivering the beverages to the two fowls. After his last orders for the night were complete, he returned to his reading, yet keeping an eye on his clients.

Rich aroma soon filled the seats. Jim was the first to take a sip at his cappuccino. Foam covered the tip of his beak when he put down the cup. Alistair dared not to mention it, let alone laugh at it, no matter how silly it looked. He used to be a smug person, saying out what was in his heart without filter. But not when his life was at stake.

Alistair didn’t touch his beverage for half a minute. His hands were still holding themselves tight, his eyes fixated on the duck in front of him.

“Drink it, don’t be shy.” Jim reminded (or ordered, in Alistair’s ears). “I ain’t paying for your cup.” Followed by another sip of his cappuccino.

Alistair slowly held out his shaking hand, putting a finger through the middle of the cup handle, pulled his drink closer to himself and paused. However fragrant the coffee was, Alistair couldn’t afford to let himself get blinded. God knows if he put down the mug after a sip, a chainsaw wouldn’t appear at his neck?

He predicted Jim would be impatient with his hesitation and yell at him. But he was just taking his time, waiting for his partner to get comfortable.

Eventually, Alistair pulled the mug close to his beak, and drank. A rather large portion of his espresso, mainly because he didn’t want to put down the mug. He wouldn’t want to know how he would die.

But he felt no pain. No sensation at all, except for the scalding hotness in his throat...

Alistair literally spat out the liquid back into the mug, choking and holding his burnt throat in pain. Jim, on the other hand, burst into laughter, holding his abdomen while laughing loudly in his dry voice. Hearing his mockery, another hot feeling emerged from his cheeks and ears, which were red with embarrassment.

If a passerby saw that scene, they would probably think it was a carefree reunion of two old friends.

Jim grabbed a glass of iced water from the counter, which Franklin had already prepared after seeing Alistair about to drain the freshly-brewed, steaming hot coffee. Jim pushed the glass of water towards Alistair, who immediately gulped down the whole glass and laid back in relief.

Alistair really did let his guard down for a moment, before again realising who was in front of him when the person spoke.

“Feeling better, Alistair?” Jim tried to comfort, showing a kind smile. No one called Alistair by his first name, not even Jim when they first met. Always “Mr Boorswan” or “Director Boorswan”. Alistair looked up and into those eyes, this time in confusion instead of fear.

“W-what do you...want from me?” Alistair finally spoke. “If you want my life, just...d-drag me out into a dark alley and chop off my head. No need for crocodile tears.”

Alistair lowered his voice, visibly sulking. “You know I can’t defend myself...I won’t defend myself.”

It was Jim’s turn to stay silent.

“I know why you are here. I ruined your only comeback chance. I let that brat destroy the movie. I couldn’t get that geezer to support the production. I...didn’t cast you as the main character. Your main character.” Alistair continued, each sentence making him remember what happened just a month ago.

“So you are here to take revenge on me. This classy British director who knows nothing about children’s TV shows. Who only loves disgusting, gritty psychological thrillers. Who...”

Alistair paused. Then again, Jim probably already knew the truth.

“...who broke his own neck, ruining his own career, dethroning himself from his own industry.”

He felt his heart getting sour. He was just a centimetre from crying.

“I have nothing more to lose.”

“If you want me dead, just do it. No one will be sad for me. I’m just everyone’s laughing stock now.”

He could feel the black feathers around his eyes got wet. The street lights outside the window blurred.

Jim let go of his cup, looking down at his feet. If it wasn’t for the tears, Alistair could see Jim’s eyes were filled with sadness as well.

“Forgiveness.”

Jim uttered.

“I want your forgiveness.”

——————————————————————————————

The store returned to silence, the rumbling of vehicles could be faintly heard across the window.

Franklin took advantage of the silence to interrupt.

“Want me to leave, misters?”

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Jim replied to the barista. If Franklin left, Alistair probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Jim.

Franklin nodded, before focusing himself into reading again, silently listening to the conversation of the two.

Jim turned to face the surprised swan.

“I’m here to apologise, Alistair.”

Of all things, apologising was not one of the reasons Alistair thought Jim was here for him.

“You aren’t the one to ruin the movie. I am.”

Jim put down his originally crossed legs, both hands on the table.

“I was selfish, arrogant, rude...I thought I was and would be the only Darkwing in the world. The one and only Darkwing...the hero on the TV screen in the past, the memory in the heart of those then children in the present.”

“When I knew Darkwing was about to return - from a child, no less - I was excited. Too excited. I was blinded by past fame and former glory, that the excitement channelled into wrath when I knew I was being ‘replaced’. In fact, there wasn’t a thing called ‘replaced’. Darkwing Duck is a character. Anyone can play him. Just because I was the first to have the honour doesn’t mean I have to be the only one. I was just being a grumpy old man on the outside, a spoiled brat in the inside.”

Jim looked up from the table to  meet Alistair’s blue eyes, making a sad, regretful smile.

“Not to mention that was your movie in the first place. Your artwork. You have the choice to let anyone past on and receive the torch. You have the right to make Darkwing the person you imagine to be. I should have just stayed in the auditorium and cheered for you.”

“An artist’s integrity really is sacred and inviolable, eh?”

Jim quoted the motto Alistair had lived by, the motto that had brought him to the top of the industry, that had given him the fame he once had.

“I shouldn’t have acted on my own. I shouldn’t have barged into the studio. Hell, I shouldn’t even have met you in the office the first day. You would have done better if you didn’t have me in your life.”

Alistair had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, but  now it was too much for him to bear. Alistair never thought that Jim would say sorry to him. Alistair never expected anyone would say sorry to him. But now, it’s as if someone was there to take the blame with him, standing up for him in front of the crowd. Someone was there to share the pain. Someone was there to be with him.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Jim could see the swan sniffing and whimpering, his eyes twinkling with tears. Just after he said his apology, Alistair burst into tears. Teardrops ran from his mask to his cheeks, dropping onto the now warm espresso. Wails echoed throughout the coffee shop, cries filled the café. Alistair wiped the tears with his purple scarf, but a long accumulated cumulus would had to rain for a while.

Jim moved to the opposite bench, and gave the weeping swan a hug. Jim never knew how to comfort someone - He never would nor had to. Awkward it might be, he really wanted to do something for Alistair.

Surprisingly, Alistair hugged back. He couldn’t care more, whether the duck had any plans in mind, or just wanted to literally stab him in the back. He had been crying alone for so many nights, it felt like a blessing to have someone willing to lend a hand.

At least for one night, Alistair wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

———————————————————————————————

“Okay, I’m good now.”

Alistair sniffed and rubbed his eyes one last time, before gently pushing Jim away. Jim pulled his cup from across the table, and pushed Alistair’s mug towards him. He emptied half of the cup in a single gulp, before returning to his rude self.

Alistair looked at the his mug, seeing his reflection on the liquid surface. He looked even more pathetic after crying, but his heart felt lighter.

Just when he was about to finish his drink, a strong, choking smell replaced the coffee aroma, making Alistair scrunched his face up.

Jim put down his cup to see Alistair staring at him while holding his nose. He stared back with a puzzled expression. “What? Coffee’s gone sour?”

Alistair shook his head, still holding his nose and breath. He pointed at the filthy duck in front of him with his other hand, and managed to whisper without using up much air. “You...stink.”

Jim blinked for a few seconds, and sniffed his body like a stray dog. He then retaliated, shrugging. “Then are you lending me your cologne, pretty boy? It doesn’t seem like you have used it for a month, anyway.”

“And your hair.” Jim continued, pointing at the swan’s supposedly groomed hair. “You look even worse than that Dorkwing boy. Don’t tell me the greatest director of all time can’t even afford a comb?”

“You were saying?” Alistair pointed back at the duck’s feathered whiskers. “You look like you haven’t taken a shower in a month. Don’t tell me the mightiest crime lord of all time can’t even afford a bath?”

Jim sat back, arms crossed. “Yes, I haven’t. Deal with it. It doesn’t seem like you have, either.”

“I...” Alistair paused mid-sentence, not wanting to admit the fact that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. It had been a month, and he already looked as though he was stranded on a deserted island for a year.

Jim sighed, putting a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Listen, you are one of the most talented persons I have met. From the papers to the TV, I have learnt a lot about you. Even my team knows you, Alistair! Some people may mock you for your failure, but many more are sad about it.”

Alistair looked up from the ground, turning to face Jim’s warm smile.

“A lot of people desperately waited for ‘Darkwing: First Darkness’, and despaired when it got cancelled. After all, who wouldn’t like a childhood reminiscence, brought to them by the one and only Alistair Boorswan? You don’t know how many people are sorry for you, how many people are cheering you on, waiting for you to come back.”

“McDuck won’t fund the movie? Glomgold and Waddles will! One wants to beat McDuck, while the other wants to get onto the red carpet. Find that Mallard kid - He is more than willing to cosplay. You’ve got the script done, the movie will be done in a jiffy. Make Darkwing a thing. Make your dream a thing. We are all artists, and artists got to do what they think is art.”

Jim picked up his fedora, rubbing its scratched brim edges. “I won’t be able to join you on set this time, but reserve a seat for me at the premiere. Five seats, to be exact. I’m sure my boys would beg to see it.”

The duck suddenly put his oversized hat onto Alistair’s head, covering his eyes. Alistair protested a bit, before struggling to get the accessory off. He held the worn-out fedora tightly with both hands, about to return it to its owner before being declined.

“Keep it. Consider it a parting gift. For now, at least. We will surely meet again, Alistair.” Jim winked at the swan, who put on the hat after a nod.

“Before then, don’t go dying, m’kay? I’m waiting to kidnap you at the prize-giving ceremony, so don’t prepare too long a speech. Alright?” Jim held out his cup towards Alistair, signalling a “cheers”.

Alistair took a silent deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, and held out his own mug, bumping the duck’s cup.

“Alright. I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

“They’re on the house, celebs.”

Franklin confirmed when Alistair was about to take out his wallet.

“That’s for your patronage.” The owl barista motioned to Alistair with his book, and then shifted to Jim. “And that’s for not making my shop a crime scene.”

Jim snickered, and picked up his chainsaw from the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“Thank you, pal.” Alistair smiled at Franklin, waving goodbye with his new red fedora before being stopped.

“One thing in return, director.” Alistair looked over his shoulder to face his old friend.

“Make that six seats, capiche?”

———————————————————

(I don’t really have much to say but I want to say something)

-I lost track of when I started writing this. I finished it on July 7, and coincidentally, the local TV broadcasted “The Duck Knight Returns!” (DT17 S02E16) on July 5.

-Also I couldn’t think of an interesting title.

-I really want to see more of Alistair Boorswan (or at least, Jim Starling, please?) in Season 3. I really like Alistair he’s so cute okay?

-sorry edgar wright

(I blame @sheepmouse for my sudden surge of interest in Alistair Boorswan/Jim Starling.)

[in-tua-deep]

Inktober day two: Guns

Prompt list by @totallyevan​, here ;3c

me, realizing I have consistently forgotten to put my work on tumblr and that a bunch of drabbles have been rotting in my google docs (though admittedly only up to 4th bc my weekend was hectic af - I’ll try play catch up with the others but HERE WE GO)

His hands are sticky. Sticky and wet and slippery. He wants desperately to wipe his hands on his shirt, on a towel, on anything - but then he’d have to put down the gun that is pointed shakily at the man who has his arm wrapped around Klaus’s neck.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was just supposed to be a dumb outing with his idiot brother so that he would shut up about waffles while he was trying to work. He’d gotten Klaus to promise to not bother him in his room for an entire week if he just went with him to the hole in the wall diner that Klaus insisted was the best in the world.

Who the fuck robbed a shitty diner?

It had been three guys, and Five had noticed them from the moment they entered, seeing the glint of sunlight on gunmetal. His first immediate thought was that it was the Commission, because who else would show up in this random place at a time that just happens to be when Five is present? And he assumes that the Commission doesn’t want too much collateral damage - they waited for the tow truck driver to leave and Agnes to be in the back room before confronting him. 

It’s only three guys, not the massive hit squad that invaded the concert hall. There was to be some measure of subtlety if they don’t want to draw too much attention to themselves.

But he assumes wrong. 

The lead guy swing his gun up and shoots at the ceiling, making everyone panic. Five reacts automatically, grabbing Klaus and bodily shoving him down under the table. Klaus gives a cry of surprise, and pain where he smacks forehead and elbows against the table and seat, but Five doesn’t care about that right now.  He just reacts.

He jumps to the lead goon, and grabs the gun to wrench up and away. The butt of the gun slams into the guy’s face, bone crunching and blood flying. Five broke his nose. The guy stumbles away. Five doesn’t have time to address that before the second guy is on him.

The rifle Five has in his hands is big and dramatic, but not exactly handy for close quarter combat. To be fair, no guns are handy for close quarter combat, which was exactly why Five generally preferred to fight that way. But it’s at least handy as a weird shaped baton which Five slams into the stomach of the second guys and makes him double over.

The first guy recovered and Five bring up the rifle again to slam it into the guy’s face for a second time, making him stumble backwards with both hands over his face with a shout. With the extra room it’s easier to bring up the gun and shoot the second guy in the leg.

The first guy gets his hands on the gun and pulls, and Five doesn’t bother to try and overpower him. The dude is big and muscular, and Five is a scrawny teen. He’s well aware of his strengths and weaknesses. He fights smarter, not harder.

The guy stumbles back, not expecting the lack of resistance. Five takes this wonderful opportunity to grab one of the little diner forks that fell to the floor in the initial panic of the men entering. In Five’s opinion it’s a handier weapon that the gun - more versatile. 

Five surges forward and lashes out, burying the fork into the leader’s shoulder. It has the added bonus of the guy dropping the gun with a howl, hand going to the fork and wrenching it out. Weaponized, the guy lurches towards Five.

And Five? He jumps. He snags another fork off a nearby table and pops up behind the guy and buries a second fork in the guy’s junction between shoulder and neck and twists before stooping and scooping up the gun again.

He points it at the two and they raise their hands in surrender, but then he hears a cough behind him and remembers that there were three guys.

Five turns, and the third guy has his arm wrapped around Klaus’s neck, a handgun pointed at Five’s brother’s temple with a hand that shakes.

“D-drop the gun!” The new guy shouts, voice cracking in his nervousness, “Or I shoot this guy!”

Five’s hands are covered in blood. It would be so easy to let the rifle slip from his fingers. The leader is crouched down with his two stab wounds and blood streaming down his face from a twice broken nose, the second guy is on the floor in a puddle of blood pressing his hands against the hole that Five put in his thigh.

The third guy’s hands shake, and Five watches the pointed finger twitch against the trigger with more attention than he’s given anything else today. 

They’re amateurs. They’re three goons who are complete idiots for trying to rob a tiny diner in broad daylight. They don’t know what they’re doing.

Five would have preferred professionals. He knows how the Commission operates. He knows how professionals work, what they know their best options to be, what they’re likely to do next. These guys, Five can’t predict. 

Five’s fingers tighten around the gun, and he doesn’t drop it. 

“What?” Five calls back, arching an eyebrow. The tried and true method of being a brat. “Why would I drop my weapon? Why don’t you?”

“I- I’ll shoot this guy! You were sitting with him!” The guy sputters, looking very uncertain. Mercifully, Klaus stays silent. Whether that’s thanks to genuine intelligence or because the guy’s arm around Klaus’s neck is making it difficult to breathe is up for debate. 

“You have one hostage.” Five says, nodding to Klaus, “I have two.” He gestures with the rifle towards the two goons who flinch away. “And both of these idiots are in need of medical attention, but if you drop the gun and don’t fuck with anyone else, then I don’t care what happens to you guys and I’ll stop attacking.”

“I have more that one hostage! I have the rest of the diner! I can just start shooting!” The idiot argues, taking the gun from Klaus’s temple to wave in the air to punctuate his point. It makes Five relax at least a tiny bit.

“A hostage is a person I care about saving.” Five tells the man bluntly, “There’s only one of those in here.”

Silence follows that statement. Some civilians are looking at him in shock, but honestly Five doesn’t care about them. He can’t care about them. If he looks too closely at people, he starts remembering bodies and trying to match faces to corpses. If he looks too closely, he starts thinking about the innocents he killed and the families and the bystanders and everything else he keeps locked inside of a little box in his heart.

He cares about seven whole people in the universe, and those people are his siblings and his mother. 

It’s quick after that. The guy reads Five’s sincerity in his eyes, his lack of regard for the lives of the men behind him. Five only refrained from killing them because he was pretty sure they weren’t Commission agents and he didn’t want to have to deal with another one of Luther’s ‘murder is bad’ lectures. He surrenders, dropping the gun to the floor with a clatter and running over to his fellow robbers, pressing his hands against the wounds to keep pressure on. 

Five doesn’t have time to wait for the sirens he can hear approaching. He hands his gun to the nearest civilian and jumps next to his brother.

“Come on Klaus,” He says urgently, tugging his brother’s elbow to steer them towards the back door. After seeing Five fight two adult men and stab one with forks, no one stops them. 

Klaus follows easily. Way too easily. They make it all the way out the door before Klaus seems to reboot and bursts out with a loud, “You care about me!”

A quick glance reveals that Klaus is making the sappiest face Five has ever seen. He has to nip this in the bud. “No. I just don’t want to have to explain to Diego about how your idiocy finally got you murdered.”

“You said you care about me!” Klaus crows loudly, making Five hiss because quite frankly he’s still covered in blood and the only reason he isn’t just chain jumping home is because that would mean abandoning Klaus. “You said I was the only person you cared about in the diner!”

“I care about Mom’s disappointed face.” Five shoots back, dragging Klaus down another alley. “Though I’m caring less and less the more you open your mouth.”

“Hold up hold up!” Klaus cries, digging in his heels and bringing them both to a stop. He gives Five a critical once over, pursing his lips at the state of his brother. He looks like, well, like he’s been in a fight to the death with two armed robbers. “We need to do something about this if we don’t want to be stopped on the way home.”

Five scowls darkly. He really should just ditch Klaus and jump home, it’s the simplest and easiest solution. But for some reason, he can’t quite bring himself to let go of Klaus’s elbow that he’d been using to drag his taller sibling around by. 

He startles badly when something brushes against his face, before realizing it’s Klaus scrubbing one of the sleeves on his black jacket over the blood splatter on Five’s cheek. Klaus hushes him, scrubbing harder.

It makes Five pull away, baring his teeth as he jumps and reappears a few feet away. He gets a certain amount of satisfaction watching Klaus almost overbalance - that’s what he gets for treating Five like a child. 

Klaus huffs like Five is the one being unreasonable here. 

Five is really giving some serious consideration to just jumping home by himself when Klaus starts stripping in the middle of the alley. Five gives his brother a face that clearly indicates his question of what the fuck. 

This face becomes even more pronounced when Klaus thrusts his jacket out in Five’s direction. 

After a solid minute of Five and Klaus staring at each other, Klaus sighs deeply. “Wear the jacket. It’s big enough to cover your shirt and hands which, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your entire torso kind of looks like you just auditioned for a shitty slasher film.”

Five can’t… exactly argue with that reasoning. He scowls, and snatches the jacket away and shrugging it on. It fits okay around the shoulders - Klaus is a skinny bastard - but it’s way too long and the sleeves go well past his hands. This is what they need, yes, but it makes Five feel like a little kid playing dress up which he’s not exactly appreciative of. He can’t even hike the sleeves up because, as Klaus so gracefully pointed out, his hands are covered in blood. 

He deals with this by shoving his hands in the pockets, extra sleeve length and all, and vividly picturing stabbing Klaus in the face when he coos over his smaller brother. 

“I hate you so much.” Five informs his brother, “Let’s just go.”

“Aw,” Klaus clasps his hands together and presses them to his cheek, gazing at Five like he just proclaimed his love for puppies. “I love you, too.”

[t-citurnity-moved]

HEY TALK ABOUT YOUR LOVES

Ohohohoho.

My thoughts are more or less about the boys, BUT I feel like I also need to provide context because this series has been such a huge part of my life.

So, therefore, let's start at the beginning.

GOD THIS GOT SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THOTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I have been part of the fanbase (not gonna say fandom, because that implies I'm active at all in the d//m//c "community" when I absolutely am not) since before 2010. That's 10+ years of enjoyment in this series. 10+ years I've been holding onto my feelings because I wasn't sure if it was right to love fictional characters. I still wrote and roleplayed with other people who were also in the fanbase, because... well, writing OC / Canon at the time was the closest anyone could get to saying "I want to date this character and not be judged." (But we all know that even then, if the OC wasn't written a specific way then they'd be considered a sue / stu; don't even get me started there.)

I fell in love with Dante first. He was the main character up until Nero starred in D//M//C4! So why wouldn't I love him? The first piece of media in which I really broke into the series was the anime and that's only because I really loved anime at the time (now not so much, mostly because I don't have attention span, etc). And boy... ohoho boy. I loved him even more. I think it's partly because that was my first real look into the series that I love D//M//C2 so much, because I'm more inclined toward the ""edgy"" side of Dante; wacky wahoo pizza man is cool and all, but I also love retrospective Dante who's a bit serious. Doesn't mean he's not the same Dante, because he absolutely is. But I hate how the fanbase portrays him sometimes. (The same fanbase that hates D//M//C2 and probably hates the reboot too, BUT I'LL TOUCH UPON THAT IN A MOMENT.)

The fact that Dante can be a serious person when he needs to be (or even if he's like... killed his brother several times and is therefore entering into a depressive state because who tf wouldn't) seems lost on a lot of people and it makes me sad. Because when I first really started branching into the fandom, I was (and still am) the same way... I just feel like 2Dante and Anime Dante are just... more relatable? So I lean toward them more than anything because I can understand them more? Because I too have depression and struggle with it? (By no means am I saying that 4/5 Dante don't have depression, I just think at that point he deals with it differently. I have a lot of headcanon there and that in and of itself is a whole ass different discussion. I also think discovering that Nero is Vergil's son / his nephew also helps him handle his depression as well, because "wow... at least I still have some part of Vergil left, even if it is only his kid" plays a bit role in how Dante recovers, BUT THAT'S JUST WHAT I THINK.)

I even think 3Dante has some level of depression going on, even thouh that's the start of the series and it doesn't really start going downhill until after those events. I mean, losing his mother at a young age and also thinking he lost Vergil until, SURPRISE SURPRISE, Vergil invites him to a "bash" which is really just some ploy to gain power? I just think at that point, it's manageable for him; he doesn't struggle with it nearly as much as he does in 2 + Anime.  That being said, the fact that he's so """wacky wahoo""" also leads me to conclusion that, even if it is "manageable," he does still struggle at times and I feel probably overwhelms him at times, so he tries to manage BY being upbeat about things. Which, anyone who has depression knows, is so fucking difficult to do. The fact that Dante can keep going despite all this shit going on in his life makes ME feel like I can keep going.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON VERGIL AND HIS PROBLEMS. Dude just wanted to be protected and loved.

Actually, LET ME get started on that. Because I have a lot of thots.

Vergil grew up believing their mother chose Dante over him. That she didn't try to save him. That Dante was more important to her than he was. He grew up with this inferiority complex because he didn't know WHY their mother never came to save him. He also grew up thinking he wasn't strong enough to save HER. That's why he actively sought out power, while believing humans were "weak." That's why he manifested this hatred for being half-human. Because he couldn't save his family and, for a long time, he was led to believe his mother didn't care for him nearly as much as she cared for Dante (IE. "saving" Dante, but not Vergil).

Vergil's thirst for power is just misdirected feelings toward his family. He should've been mad at demons for attacking them in the first place, but because he grew up believing what he did, it became hatred toward humans instead. That's why he hated Dante, too. In reality, I don't think he really "hates" Dante, just feels severely inferior (which he veils by """having""" a superiority complex instead of the opposite, which he actually has). I think he just had a lot of conflicted emotions that he was never able to work through. Which is why I love the idea that he and Dante, post-D//M//C5 could reconcile at some point. Because neither of them really hated each other, they just had conflicting viewpoints due to one event that go thrown out of proportion somewhere along the way. Vergil just wanted what Dante had, which he perceived as the love of their mother, because she "chose" to save Dante instead of him. In reality, she tried to go after Vergil too, but simply didn't survive. Vergil was entirely unaware of this, so obviously he'd be upset. It's the crux of all his problems.

Vergil HIMSELF even theorises what would happen if they switched places that day! He wonders what would happen if he and Dante's lives were swapped! (Which, TBH, would be a pretty neat AU, heheheheh.) Legit! "If our positions were switched... would I have your life? And you mine?" DUDE WANTED TO KNOW!!! He wanted to know what it was like to BE Dante, to be LOVED, to be PROTECTED by the ONE PERSON they had in their lives at the time! They only had their mother, so OF COURSE Vergil would be upset due to the circumstances! HE JUST WANTED TO BE PROTECTED AND LOVED.

3Vergil doesn't show much of this side of him, because he's just angry and going through a lot and he JUST wanted to be powerful enough that no one could hurt him any more. He would NEVER say this, but dude....... You cannot convince me this dude just wanted to be powerful to keep himself safe. To feel like he finally would've had enough power to protect the people he loves AND himself. He just didn't want to be hurt again. This is, by NO MEANS, an excuse for his actions. It's an explanation. His actions shouldn't be excused because of his ~ f e e l i n g s ~, but I firmly believe that post-D//M//C5, he could redeem himself for these actions. For everything he's done, he can realise it's wrong. He can grow to be a better person. He can reconcile with Dante and even be a good father to Nero. He can be better and I want to believe that he WOULD be better. After everything V went through, discovering that he doesn't really want to be the person he used to, Vergil can change and be better.

OOFIES. This has gone on long, BUT I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE REBOOT BOYS THAT I STRUGGLE TO PUT INTO WORDS, SO BEAR WITH ME IF THIS SEEMS STUPID OR GARBLED.

Context for the reboot: It's basically a remake of the series that got poor reception because people struggle to accept change. :) I will not debate this and anyone who wants to come at me can eat my socks.

Dante 2.0, like original Dante, HAS PROBLEMS. He's an edgy punk bitch who has problems and he's so ugly I love him.

This dude went his entire life struggling with his identity as someone "human." At one point, he was so convinced he didn't have a heart that he ripped open his own chest to see if he did. Yeah. Dude has issues. But it's ok, because in game, he legitimately sets aside his own issues with people to save humanity. Dude's got such BDE.

People hate him, but I feel like they fail to realise what the hell he's been through. He's been through just as much shit as original Dante. Same goes for Vergil 2.0. These boys have been through SO MUCH, but people don't see that because "Nooo!! You can't just remake the series!!!" Meanwhile I'm like "hehe handsome nephilim boys go brrr."

I literally cannot begin to explain the amount of hate people have for the reboot and it makes me sad, because... like.... y'all.... don't realise... these dudes... went through so much shit..... and yeah... I get it... remake bad, original good, but dude.... my dude.... my bro.... you do not have to hate it that much.... calm down, it's just a video game....

My dude Dante grew up in the system because the foster homes and shit he got placed in were run by demons!!! So he'd lash out at them!!! He was violent because demons suck!! They killed his mom and enslaved his dad!!! Imagine!!! Being surprised by that!!! When you know what he went through!!! Damn, couldn't be me!!!

Vergil went through some shit too!!! Like!!! Yeah, he was adopted into a rich family and lived a pretty cushy life, but fact of the matter is!!! Their parents died and they had their memories WIPED when they were kids!!! Imagine!!! The distraught!!! When he (since he found out who he was long before Dante did) realised what had happened!!! When he remembered!! When he discovered he wasn't human!! My dude founded a whole ass group of demon hunting hactivists because he knew demons sucked and wanted to make the world a better place. It wasn't until after Mundus (big stinky demon man) died that he started realising how frail humans could be and decided to be an asshole about it.

I'm so sad that there will never be any more about the reboot, because fans decided to be assholes about it. I'm so sad that we'll never learn more about what happened to those boys. I'm so sad that we'll never be able to see whether they reconcile or even have the opportunity to.

Alas, I have to rely on heavy headcanon and personal re-write of the story to fix canon instead. :<

[lesboinspace]

AtLA Zine Piece

This was written for @atlazine :D I was assigned Air so I wrote this focusing on Aang, but also added as many characters who’ve impacted him as I could~ Look out for leftover sales!

A Hero’s Love

Word Count: 1,998

Rating: G

Summary: About a decade since awakening from his snow globe, Aang prepares himself for his most pressing challenge yet: summoning the courage to propose to the most incredible person he's ever met. With the help of many old friends, Aang will do just that without looking too much like a babbling, love-stricken fool.

Aang fell in love with Katara the moment their eyes met. Of course, he hadn’t known to correlate such awe with newfound love right away, but even as a child he could sense how the waterbender left a mark on him within moments of occupying the same space. The girl's gaze had been full of concern and curiosity, her aura demanding the younger boy's attention even while his chilled mind was rebooting after spending a century as a popsicle.

She was, and still is, the most beautiful soul he's ever encountered. That day, as Katara’s ocean-esque eyes collided with Aang's cloudy greys, he knew she was special. Years later, Aang's feelings for Katara haven't dimmed, only intensified with each second he shared at her side. Now, blossoming into an adult, the Avatar was set on acting out what was once mere fantasy to him when he was young: asking his beloved to spend the rest of her days with him.

But before doing so, Aang wished to spread word of this decision and, consequently, the joy that comes with it. Aang would finally propose to the woman that had saved his life and stolen his heart while spreading the jittery excitement he feels with those who've supported him along the way. Eager to share, the Avatar had soared through the skies once again, saddled on Appa's warm back with Momo perched on his shoulder.

First on Aang's journey had been Guru Pathik. This may seem strange, as the wise man had been the one who previously demanded Aang let go of Katara. However, it’s precisely because of this that the Avatar visited him before anyone else. After the war, Aang never had a chance to return to the guru and question the believed importance of severing ties.

Aang, though he struggled to admit it, harbored a little resentment for Pathik after he went against his teachings. He still respected the elder, but part of him was eager to face Pathik, to stand proud knowing that he made the better choice as a boy rather than abiding by the wise man's ruling. He was determined to marry the one Pathik told him to leave behind, so Aang was as spiteful as he could ever be. Despite this ire, Aang truly hoped that he and Pathik could reconcile over the most pleasant of news.

Upon landing, the two shared some niceties before Aang's desire to open up overwhelmed him. “I’m going to marry her, you know. If I’d listened to you, she would’ve died.” Aang could barely look at the guru when he said this, mixed feelings of avoided grief and desperation swirling about his mind. Pathik wasn’t blind to this, and quickly sat the Avatar down as he began emptying his thoughts.

“Connections to others limit our ability to prosper. Any ties to this world and its people weaken our chance to explore the strength laying dormant within.” Aang did his best to sit still and listen, but he couldn’t cease the curling of his toes and twitching nose. He’d waited a long time to hear Pathik’s explanation, but it was harder than expected to eye the man responsible for Katara’s near-death experience.

He was so restless that Aang was oblivious to Pathik’s similar discomfort. The elder shifted his hands from his knees to his calf over and over again, running his fingertips along the fabric as he spoke. He too struggled to hold eye contact with the man he hurt. “I didn't wish to harm you with my judgment. I thought I was doing what had to be done, both for you and the fate of us all. It seems that… I may have been wrong, in your case at least. I hope you can forgive me.”

With each word Aang’s tight clench of his fists loosened just as the viper’s grip on his heart receded. “I haven't a single doubt that you and your beloved will be very happy together. Cherish her and those you love, young man.” Both men’s gazes steadily rose, meeting for the first time since Pathik began illustrating his convictions that were left wrongly unspoken for years. The guru smiled at Aang, taking in all that the Avatar had become without him.

“Your ties to them seem to make you stronger. I'm sure dear Gyatso would agree.” The conversation dissipated any lingering frustration in Aang's heart, unaware that so much had existed until Pathik’s sincere admission of regret. Aang pulled the elder into a hug when he initially intended to part ways after a stiff, procedural bow. He experienced an unexpected ease wash over him, a tension in his stomach unraveling once his reconnection with the elder appeased his perturbed psyche.

Driven by the gratifying experience, Aang immediately met up with another man from his past— though undeniable wisdom and age is all that connects the two elders. King Bumi jumped on Aang upon his arrival, and the two puffed out giddy, exhausted breaths. The longtime friends discussed the good old days before Aang announced he was planning to propose.

The king was so ecstatic that he moved to tackle him again. However, the Avatar was ready the second time around—though just barely pivoting away. Nevertheless, the king was undeterred. For several minutes he continued to leap at Aang, who somehow managed to stay untouched. He was out of breath until Bumi came to a sudden halt and offered some sort of approving nod, like their game of cat and mouse equated to something far beyond Aang's comprehension.

With that, Bumi resumed his full height and rubbed Aang's forehead as if he were a fortune teller prodding his crystal ball for answers. The Avatar merely stood in silence, holding in a snort while he waited for his friend to finish his inner analysis. “You've grown so much, yet your spirit has remained passionate and humble. You'd be surprised how often power corrupts. You're still the friend I made all those years ago, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm sure that spunky waterbender gal feels the same.”

Aang nearly teared up at the sentiment. Just as he placed a hand on Bumi’s shoulder, the elder grinned before slamming the unsuspecting Avatar onto his back. The two friends continued to run about for hours until Aang insisted for his own safety that they stop. With a tight hug that both men groaned through, laughing through the glorious agony, the king and the Avatar parted ways.

Aang set out to the Southern Water Tribe to meet with the last wise man on his list: Hakoda. The surprise visit prompted Katara’s father to suspect exactly what the Avatar wished to discuss. He ushered Aang into his home, seeking privacy for the topic. “If you’re here to ask for my approval in marrying my daughter, do know that it’s not necessary; Katara is a grown woman who doesn’t need her father cradling her, but I appreciate your sentiment nonetheless.”

Hakoda’s shoulders shook as he emitted a low chuckle at Aang’s wide eyes and tense frame. “Come now, don’t look so embarrassed. Why else would you be here? I don’t suppose you plan to confess your feelings to my son and marry him instead?” The Avatar smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck, joining Hakoda in laughter.

Just as the men made earnest, understanding eye contact, an ear-shattering scream disturbed the moment. Sokka barged in, gaping like the recent catch of fish balanced on his back. “You’re finally going to do it? Okay, so when are you planning on asking, exactly? Oh, and where? How? I have a million questions, man! Or, wait, I guess I can call you brother now, huh?” His babbling was met with blank stares which quickly melted into bright smiles. The men spoke of the future until nightfall, and Aang said his goodbyes, his soul satisfied at the reciprocated excitement from his closest companions.

Each meeting had left the Avatar with a newfound clarity, and he now feels ready to propose to Katara. Knowing that he and Katara would appreciate the hijinks of it now that time and fear have passed, Aang brings Katara to Ember Island after requesting its theater group to put on the same reenactment of their journeys solely for the couple. As expected, Aang and Katara laugh throughout the entire production.

Aang admires the waterbender’s uncontrollable chuckles and glistening eyes, growing eager for the play to end so he can propose. Once the curtains fall, the couple clap and cheer before Aang tugs Katara out of her seat, guiding her to the beach. The two gaze in silence at the shimmering waters, both sneaking not so subtle glances at each other for a marvelous eternity. Aang almost hates that he has to break their trance for any reason at all, but he just can’t wait any longer—not with how beautifully illuminated she is under the moonlight.

“Katara, there’s something that I want to ask you. The thing is, uh, you see…”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Hang on, let me get through this,” Aang holds up a palm while rubbing his temple with the other, forehead creasing. The Avatar curtains his eyes, vacuuming up oxygen through his nostrils as if he’s never had any fill his lungs before. “Okay, so when two people love each other very much—”

His hands retract to his center, fingers spreading out and motioning to the air. Aang continues the anxious spasming of his limbs until Katara's words process in his overloading mind. “Wait, what? How did… I mean, who told you?”

“You shouldn’t have trusted Sokka. That goof is terrible at keeping secrets, especially from me.” An airy chuckle tumbles out of the waterbender, recalling the event from just a few nights ago, “I barely looked at the guy before he broke down into gibberish, going from formal venues to invitations or something. All it took was a few seconds of hard eye contact for him to snitch every last detail… and then some. I know way too much about Sokka's love for Suki now, it's kind of disturbing. I'll spare you the trauma.”

With a sigh, Aang smacks the center of his arrow, though his taut expression is quick to dissipate. He shrugs his shoulders, chalking up the reveal to one of Sokka's many charming moments. “Figures. I didn’t even tell him since I was sure he would blab. He was eavesdropping when I was talking to your—um, never mind.” The two share a laugh, but Aang’s nervous rocking on his heels silences both of them. “So, you really mean it? You'll… marry me?”

Katara’s smile stretches further as the Avatar eyes her from under his dark lashes. “Of course, sweetie. If I’d never met you, there’s no way I would’ve discovered half of what I’m capable of. I was able to become strong like my mother wanted me to be, and I even got to help save the world with the Avatar himself. Now, I’m—” She pauses her spiel when Aang’s head tilts to the side, though roses seem to bloom within his cheeks as they burn red. “Okay, okay, sorry. Enough about me.” Clearing her throat, Katara sets her hands on his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re everything to me, Aang. I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His face bursting with color, Aang lowers his gaze “I’m the one who’s honored to be with you... I may have saved the world, but you, ya know, saved me and all. And not just from being a snow globe.”

“I know.”

With the promise made between them, Aang and Katara melt into each other’s arms. They seal this new bond with a kiss while a gentle breeze twirls through their bodies. It's almost as if the Air Nomads’ spirits were applauding their pupil, embracing the pair in gusts of caresses like the lovers are the heart of a hurricane.

[pyropsychiccollector]

Naezono Week, Day 3: Ruined

            Sayaka frowned slightly as she returned to her brunet companion, who was still looking rather down as he sat at the table he’d picked out for them. She placed the cup holding his ice cream blizzard next to him and placed her hand on top of his as it rested on the table.

            “Naegi-kun…? Are you okay?” The bluenette asked softly, rubbing her thumb across his knuckle.

            Makoto blinked slowly before looking up and mustering a small smile.

            “Yeah, I’m fine! Just, uh… a little tired…”

            … A smile just for her.

            ‘Oh, Naegi-kun…’ Her eyes flicked to the nearby TV. While it was on silent so as to not disturb customers in the restaurant, there were still dialogue boxes displayed as the reporters commentated. It was well within Makoto’s view. Chewing her lower lip thoughtfully, she then burst into a grin, beaming down at him. “… Let’s just take our treats and go, okay?”

            “S-Sure…” Makoto nodded tentatively, picking up his ice cream and letting her take his hand as they left the restaurant.

            … Leaving a few gossipers in their wake. But Sayaka paid them no mind.

            ~*~

            Numbly, Sayaka raised a finger to her lips, her wide eyes staring back at an equally gobsmacked Makoto. They were currently on the bed in his dorm; books, papers, and pencils sprawled out between them, but they were long since forgotten by the two teens that were trapped in their own little worlds.

            That had been unexpected.

            … Well, except not really. Not to the stunned idol, anyway. Truth be told, she’d been wanting to do that for a long time now, if only to get a giggle out of seeing the look on Makoto’s face right this moment. But… she’d held herself back for more than a few good reasons. The only real shock, at least for her, was that she’d succumbed to temptation this ‘soon’.

            They’d already studied at Hope’s Peak for a year. She thought she had it in her to hold out until at least their senior year… but maybe that was too high of an expectation?

            “D… Did that just happen…?” Makoto wondered aloud, his airy voice revealing his mind wasn’t completely there.

            Sayaka tried to bite back a giggle at his still nonplussed expression. She did. But that face and that bewildered reaction… Priceless.

            “Of course, dummy~… I would have slugged any other girl, if they did that to you~!”

            … And she was not exaggerating that.

            ~*~

            They eventually found a nice, quiet park bench to sit at while they enjoyed their frozen treats in the brisk fall weather. Was it strange to crave ice cream when the temperature was getting colder? Maybe a little. But it wasn’t a bad thing – after all, it’s not like parlors were exclusively open in spring or summer.

            Besides~… It was always cute seeing Makoto with a ‘moustache’.

            “You sure you’re okay with this, Maizono-s…” Makoto trailed off at her pouty glare. “… Sayaka-chan?”

            Sayaka merely beamed at the satisfactory honorific.

            “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve got the afternoon free and can do whatever we want.”

            Makoto frowned as he held his cup in both his hands and looked down.

            “You know what I mean…” He mumbled.

            Sayaka’s smile softened before looking up into the seemingly endless expanse of blue sky contently.

            “I do. And I meant every word of it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be!”

            “But… Aoba-san… Haneyama-san…” Makoto trailed off, shaking his head with eyes clenched shut tight. Sayaka soothingly placed a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look in the eyes.

            “I’ll see the girls next weekend, remember? We all promised.”

            Makoto let out a ragged sigh.

            “A private party, maybe… If it wasn’t for me, you could go with them wherever, whenever-”

            “And I’d be stuck seeing you ‘next weekend’ instead…” Sayaka remained calmly, grin never wavering as she patted his shoulder. “I would pick you every time, Naegi-kun. Every time.”

            “But it was your dream…” Makoto muttered, a conflicted expression still on his face.

            ~*~

            “L-Love? Me?” Makoto’s face  was tomato red. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

            Sayaka giggled, sporting a healthy blush of her own.

            “Not at all… “ She winked flirtatiously at him. “In fact, you’re showing me that love can go even further…  I’m already at the point that I can’t imagine life without you.”

             Not ‘don’t want to’ – can’t.

            Makoto stammered nervously as he ran a hand through his hair.

            “Y-You’re probably just exaggerating…” His blush deepened as she shook her head gravely. “W-Well… I-I mean, it’s not like I want to imagine life without you, either. You’re everything you are in the TV and magazines… everything and more.”

            Way more.

            “Aww~ I’m so glad you think so!” Sayaka teased, pecking him on the cheek affectionately. “I’m gonna have to work on you some more if you still ‘can’ imagine life without me, though~…”

            Makoto waved his hands defensively.

            “I-It’s nothing like that! I just…” He looked down with still burning hot cheeks. “I don’t want to get in the way. And this…”

            Sayaka wrapped him up in a hug, to the boy’s shock. She smiled as she leaned into his shoulder.

            “You won’t be a burden. You’ll never be a burden, Naegi-kun.” She pulled back so she could look in his eyes again, adopting a solemn expression. “Though… if we do this… We can’t tell anyone. Only we can know.”

            “I… I get it…” Makoto nodded numbly. “Though… if you feel like I’m causing too much stress… Hey…!”

            The idol bopped him on the nose.

            “If things become too much, well, that’ll be the end of it…” Sayaka flippantly remarked, sporting a coy, teasing grin.

            That grin did nothing to alleviate the anxiety in Makoto’s heart.

            “The end of it… Yeah, I kinda figured…”He muttered.

            Sayaka let out melodious giggles at that response. He didn’t even question what ‘it’ was… That was just like him, to put her before himself. So selfless. So generous. So innocent…

            But she wasn’t talking about the end of their relationship.  

            ~*~

            “My dream…” Sayaka mused with a content smile and sigh as she leaned over, resting her head on the bemused boy’s shoulder. “I guess Komaru-chan never got around to telling you. Which is good. Because I was being serious when I said I’d be angry if she told anybody…”

            “T-Tell me what…?” Makoto asked curiously, looking at the bluenette out of the corner of his eye.

            “Well, seeing as how my first dream was short-lived, I guess I can tell you~…” She had a fit of uncontrolled giggles. “Even if it was ‘all your fault’…”

            Makoto spluttered at the accusation.

            “T-Trust me! I’d have asked for my hoodie back if I’d known your manager would find it and-”

            Sayaka slight curled into him, staring up at his face, letting him know she hadn’t been accusatory. He nervously laughed it off, and she pecked him on the cheek for embarrassing him like that.

            “I wouldn’t have let you take it back, anyway.” Sayaka informed him, her tone light. Whimsical. “It’s nice and toasty. And makes sure I’ll get to smell you every day~…”

            Despite being thoroughly embarrassed, Makoto couldn’t help letting that one slide.

            “Hey, wasn’t I the one that said you smell nice…?” He cracked a small grin. “Does that mean I get one of your hoodies?”

            Sayaka seemed to think about it for a second.

            “… Sorry, don’t have any to spare, but you can have one of my shirts?” She burst into another uncontrollable fit of giggles at his gobsmacked expression.

            “I…! You…!” He spluttered, losing control of his vocal chords. Sayaka patted him consolingly.

            “Oh, alright… If you want my lingerie so bad~…” She peeked up at his face and was not disappointed with him going totally silent.

            makotonaegi.exe has run into an unexpected error, please scroll down the page to reboot.

            …

            …

            …

            “… Okay, I walked into that one…” Makoto exhaled, the ex-idol patting his shoulder consolingly once more.

            “Yes, you did. But your expressions are always fun, so I’m not mad!” She hummed gleefully.

            Makoto frowned as a thought occurred to him in that moment.

            “So… wait… You brought that hoodie on that tour ‘cause you wanted to?” He was nonplussed at how the ex-idol had done that on a whim…

            Sayaka nodded, resuming her sitting her position.

            “I did. And I left it out for my manager to find.” Sayaka beamed at how thoroughly confused she was making the poor boy. “Oh, Makoto… You still don’t get it.”

            Aforementioned Luckster blushed at how easily his given name rolled off her tongue so easily.

            “G-Get what…?” He asked helplessly. She fully turned to him, sporting a fierce pout.

            “You already ruined me for everyone else.” She poked his cheek adorably. “All those months, you put up with my selfish requests for absolute secrecy. Were the perfect gentleman. Put up with my calls at 3am. Let me keep your clothes. You should have done something months ago, but you were so patient. I had to ruin it for you so we could be together!”

            Makoto’s mind swirled as he tried to process that last statement in particular.

            “S-So… wait… Wh-What’s your dream now, if it’s not to be an idol?”

            “I wonder~…” Sayaka hummed, leering at him mischievously. “I could tell you, but it broke Komaru-chan’s brain. I’m nervous about what it will do to you~…”

            Makoto stared at the bluenette in bewilderment. She didn’t look nervous at all!

            “You’re practically begging to tell me!” He refuted. This only earned more giggles.

            “Well, if you really have to know~…” She chirped, taking a deep breath before whispering into his ear excitedly. Once done, Makoto reeled back with a face that was practically glowing red.

            “You told Komaru that?!” He yelped, aghast.

            So much for “only we can know.”

            Sayaka tilted her head adorably.

            “I would have told you first, but you were too busy being sweet and selfless. Komaru-chan has a right to know these things, too, since she’ll be ‘imouto’ later.” Sayaka nodded sagely as if that made total sense. She reopened her eyes curiously. “So, what do you think…?”

            Makoto coughed.

            “U-Um… You must… love me a lot…?” He smiled shakily, and sweatdropped as the ex-idol pinned him to the bench mischievously.

            “I did say that you ruined me, Makoto~…” She chirped innocently. “Now you take responsibility~!”

            … This girl had it bad. But then again… so did he. He wouldn’t have been patient for so long if he didn’t.

[rising-above-stars]

BMC Summer Gift Exchange

@bmc-summer-gift-exchange This is for @wheatleylaboratoriez I hope you enjoy it!

Jeremy laid in Michael’s arms, watching the words appear on Michael’s laptop screen. He refused to let Michael stop cuddling him despite the fact he needed to work on his essay. Michael wasn’t complaining. He leaned back against the pillows and headboard on his bed, his chin resting on Jeremy’s shoulder, listening to his boyfriend talk. “I’m just saying, the new game is much better as a standalone game and not the final in the trilogy. The first reboot game was amazing. It was different, both in the story and the gameplay. Rise of the Tomb Raider kind of followed on? And it was alright. Shadow of the Tomb Raider did not work out at all. Not as part of the series, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Jere,” Michael smiled, pressing a kiss to Jeremy’s shoulder.  A smile grew across Jeremy’s lips. “Have you finished yet?” A hum left Michael’s lips “I suppose I could take a break.” He shut the laptop, moving it off Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy grinned and rolled over in Michael’s arms, leaning up to press a kiss to Michael’s lips.  “Good. Because I need your full, undivided attention.”  Michael laughed. “And my full, undivided attention you shall get.”  Jeremy grinned. He shifted in Michael’s lap to drape his arms over his boyfriend’s shoulders. He pressed a kiss to his lips. “Perfect. Because I think I deserve it after you ignoring me for hours while writing that essay of yours.”  Michael laughed again, shaking his head. He tugged Jeremy a little closer. “God, you are such a dork.”  “But I’m your dork. And you love me.”  Michael smiled, pressing another kiss to Jeremy’s lips. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I love you.”  “And I love you too.” Jeremy returned the smile, happily leaning into the other. This was good. 

And then Michael kissed him. Oh, and Jeremy certainly wasn’t complaining. This was very good. He let his eyes fall shut, his lips moving in sync with Michael’s. Michael laid back on the bed, Jeremy gladly doing the same thing, letting Michael pull him close. Michael tangled a hand through Jeremy’s hair, and Jeremy let out a soft hum. God, that always felt good. He loved it when Michael messed with his hair.   He let the other boy deepen the kiss, tilting his head a little more. Jeremy felt Michael’s hand sneaking underneath his shirt, rubbing small circles on his side. 

Jeremy tensed up at the touch.

“Jerry!” Chloe called out over the music. She grabbed Jeremy’s hand, pulling him through the crowds of people towards the stairs. “Chloe? Where are we going?” “Brooke said she has a surprise for you!”

Jeremy tried to push the thought away. Michael was not Chloe. Michael was not drunk. Michael would not trap him here. Jeremy knew that. Michael wouldn’t hurt him. Especially not like that.

“So, uh- where’s Brooke? You said she had a surprise-” “Oh my god…” Chloe laughed. “You are too freaking adorable.” She pulled Jeremy close with a grin, he could smell the alcohol on her breath. “Brooke’s not coming.”

Michael pulled Jeremy a little closer, taking things a little slower. He broke the kiss for a moment. “Are you okay?” Although, he figured he wasn’t. Jeremy was tense, he looked like he was trying to calm down.  

“What? She’s not? Then-” Chloe dragged him over to the bed. “Why don’t we hang for a bit? Just you and me?” She said, sitting down. She pulled Jeremy down with her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Jeremy nodded. “Keep going…” Michael hesitantly nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to Jeremy’s lips. The thoughts calmed down. Michael was being slow, gentle, nothing like Chloe. Jeremy returned the kiss. Michael laid them both back, tangling his fingers in Jeremy’s hair once again.

“I-I have to go,” Jeremy said. He tried to move. He couldn’t move. “I can’t move my feet.” ‘You’re welcome.’ The S.Q.U.I.P said. Although Jeremy couldn’t see it, he could hear the smug look in its voice. Chloe pushed him back on the bed, straddling his lap. Panic was beginning to set in. He couldn’t move. “I-I should get back-” “Back to Brooke?” Chloe spat. She took another sip of the milk in her baby bottle. Who goes to a party as a sexy baby? “Everybody always likes Brooke. Why is that? Because she’s nice? I can be nice! I can be so goddamn nice!”

Michael deepened the kiss once more, pressing closer to Jeremy. He trailed his hands down to Jeremy’s hips again, squeezing them gently.

Jeremy tried to get the girl off him. He couldn’t move, the S.Q.U.I.P wouldn’t let him.

Jeremy froze, his whole body going tense.

Chloe grinned down at him. She took a swig of her bottle before pressing it to Jeremy’s lips. “It’s not actually milk.” Jeremy could only watch as his hand took the bottle and he took a swig. The alcohol burned as it went down his throat.

Michael pulled away, frowning. Okay, something was very wrong. He wasn’t going to let Jeremy say he was fine. “Jeremy?”

Chloe tossed the bottle to the side, leaning down to press a kiss to Jeremy’s lips.

Jeremy pushed Michael away, trying to move as far away from the boy as possible. “I didn’t want it! I-I didn’t want it!”

There was banging on the door.

Jeremy wrapped his arms around himself.

Jake was yelling.

He pulled at his hair.

Chloe was yelling back.

He covered his ears, shaking his head.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Michael sat up. “Jeremy- What’s wrong?”  

Jake forced his way into the room. Jeremy pushed Chloe off him, ducking past Jake. Brooke stood in the doorway. “I-I’m sorry…”

“I-I’m sorry-” Jeremy was shaking, trying his hardest to calm his breathing down. That was proving to be a problem. Michael’s voice was faint, he could barely hear him over the beating of his heart in his ears, or over the flashbacks to that party. Michael was going to yell at him again. It’s what happened last time and it’s going to happen again. Michael quickly moved over to Jeremy, cupping his cheeks and forcing Jeremy to look at him. “Jeremy, hey- Look at me, okay?” Jeremy looked at Michael with unfocused eyes. He placed his hands on top of Michael’s. “I’m sorry- Chloe, she- Brooke- Is Brooke okay? Jake- I'm sorry! We- We didn’t do anything!” Michael nodded. “Brooke’s okay, Chloe and Jake aren’t here, remember? It’s just you and me. Michael, remember?” “M-Michael? Wh-what are you doing here? Please- D-don't yell at me...” “I’m not going to yell at you, I promise. I just need you to focus on my voice, okay?” Jeremy gave a shaky nod. “O-Okay...” “Good. Now, just look at me. Focus completely on me. Breathe in...” Jeremy nodded again. Focus on Michael, he could do that. He followed Michael’s instructions until his breathing calmed down enough. Michael smiled softly. “You’re doing well, Jere. You’re okay. I promise. Can you name five things you can see for me?” Jeremy swallowed thickly, his eyes darting around the room. “Uh- y-your desk. The window.” What else? What else could he focus on? “Your- your Marley posters. O-our pictures. And you.” “Good job, Jeremy. Now, what about four things you can touch?” “Y-you. Uh... The bed...” He ran his hands over the covers before his hand trailed to Michael’s headphones. “Your headphones.” What else? What else could he touch, what else could he touch, what else- “My shirt.” “You’re doing so well, sugar. You’re okay, you’re safe. I need three things you can hear.” Jeremy’s mind was still swirling, but he was trying his best to focus on Michael. “Your voice. The- the clock ticking, a-and the wind outside.” “Well done. Two things you can smell. Can you do that?” “Y-your cologne. A-And weed.” Michael smiled. “One more to go. One thing you can taste?” Jeremy took a shaky breath, leaning into Michael a little more. What could he taste? What could he- “My spit?” Michael wrapped his arms around Jeremy, pulling him close. “Very good. You’re okay, you’re safe, and it’s just us. We’re not at Jake’s, okay?” Jeremy nodded, loosely wrapping his arms around Michael. “Thank you...” He said softly. Michael gently rubbed Jeremy’s back. “Hey, anything for you, doll.” Jeremy’s mind was still reeling, but he was okay. Michael said so. It was him and Michael and he was okay.

“I’m sorry...” Jeremy said. Michael shook his head, just holding Jeremy close. “It’s okay, we have no need to rush, okay? You can always tell me when you want to stop.” Jeremy shook his head. “I should be over this by now.” “Jeremy, this isn’t an easy thing to move past...” “But I should be past it! At this rate, we’ll never do it and I can’t make you happy!” Michael frowned, running a hand through Jeremy’s hair. “Hey... We don’t have to go that far if you don’t want to. I mean it, it’s perfectly okay if we never go that far. We never have to do it.” “But- what about what you want?” “My want for you to be happy is much more important than my want for sex. If staying with you means that I have to give up sex? Then I will do it because I love you. So much.” Michael pressed a gentle kiss to Jeremy’s forehead. “We will go as fast or as slow as you want, as far as you want, or we can keep it to just cuddling and the occasional kiss. It’s all up to you, okay? And whatever you are comfortable with. Not anyone else. Jeremy smiled softly and nodded, pressing a kiss to Michael’s cheek before resting his head on his shoulder. “Thank you. I love you.” “I love you too.” Michael smiled softly.

[osleyakomwonkru]

I was tagged for this game by @blodreina-noumou - sure, I’ll dive in!

MY SHOWS (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER) *:

The 100 (obviously)

Shadowhunters

Once Upon A Time

Leverage

Lost

*I am monofandomous. Which means I can only do one fandom at a time. I have a tendency towards hyperfixation. Obviously, #1 is that current hyperfixation, the other four are my ones before it.

Come take a look, if you dare.

QUESTIONS:

1. who is your favorite character in 2?

Magnus Bane. Has been since the books, and Harry plays him so well on screen. I love his loyalty, his take-no-shit attitude, his everything.

2. who is your least favorite character in 1?

Marcus Kane, wait he’s dead. Abby Griffin, wait she’s probably dead too. Okay, then we’ve come to Bellamy Blake. I don’t want to hate him, see, but he’s been so cruel to Octavia since 5x04, his joking with her now is unearned since he hasn’t apologized for his cruelty, and thus I cannot stan like I used to. Sorry not sorry.

3. what is your favorite episode of 4?

"The Big Bang Job”. Eliot backstory and Eliot being awesome. Love him so much.

4. what is your favorite season of 5?

Season 3. Ish. Latter half of season 3, more specifically.

5. who is your favorite couple in 3?

OutlawQueen. Regina was my absolute favourite, and Robin was just so perfect for her. And then, of course, as always for characters that are My Type™, she lost him. That’s pretty much where my love affair with the show ended.

6. who is your favorite couple in 2?

Malec (Magnus/Alec). Before my Octavia hyperfixation started, I had a fine career as a mid-list Malec fic writer, and then gave all of that up to, well, love and write about Octavia instead. No regrets.

7. what is your favorite episode in 1?

Episode 4x10 “Die All, Die Merrily”. Does this even need an explanation? Honourable mentions to 4x07 “Gimme Shelter” and 5x10 “The Warriors Will”.

8. what is your favorite episode of 5?

A tie between episodes 3x16 “One of Us” and 5x08 “LaFleur”. Yes, I love Juliet. She’s My Type™. As is Sawyer. And of course, Suliet, which was one of the first times my heart broke in fandom. 

9. what is your favorite season of 2?

Season 2, even if it was heartbreaking for poor Magnus.

10. how long have you watched 1?

I started watching The 100 in February of last year, so in the hiatus between seasons 4 and 5. Then watched 5 and now 6 live.

11. how did you become interested in 3?

I can’t quite remember, actually. I think I’d heard about it, then started watching it when my ex-fiance’s sister shared it with me. (Obviously before the “ex” part happened.)

12. who is your favorite actor in 4?

Christian Kane (Eliot Spencer), always. 

13. which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5?

1. The 100. That’s why it is my current hyperfixation :D I love all of the moral and ethical dilemmas, I love the intensity, I love the depth, I love the “no good choices” and then “how do you live with it after?”. That’s why I watch. Which is why I hate that the more recent seasons aren’t holding to this and are deciding we should dislike some actions and like others, even if they’re similar.

14. which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3?

3, only because OUAT had 22 episodes per season instead of 13-16.

15. if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

Parker! Parker and I have a lot in common, actually. I’m not a world-class thief, but I do have trouble relating to humans like she does, so acquiring an awesome skillset to go along with that would be cool.

16. would a crossover between 3 and 4 work?

OUAT and Leverage? .... no.

17. pair two characters in 1 that would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple

Octavia and Murphy. I know, you’re probably going “WHAT?! They haven’t spoken to each other since season 1 and have rarely shared a scene since”, but hear me out. They both know what it is like to be seen as the bad guy, when they didn’t do anything so different from other characters, they just got on The Leads’ bad sides. They’ve both spent large portions of the show physically and/or emotionally isolated from the rest of the main kru. They’ve both had complicated relationships with Team Adults, Jaha and Abby in particular.

This season especially is FULL of Octavia/Murphy parallels - Murphy dives into the water on the new planet (as Octavia did in 1x01), Murphy’s life is in danger from the water (see Octavia in 1x01, except this time it is a snake that saves his life rather than threatens it), Octavia is banished for stupid reasons (like Murphy in 1x04), and Octavia and Diyoza’s quest for Gabriel and the Anomaly parallels Murphy and Jaha’s quest for the City of Light in season 2 (especially relevant since we know the Anomaly will be a big plot point for S7, like the CoL was in S3).

So with all of that, if you still need some convincing... they’re both incredibly loyal. They help their people even when their people have done little to nothing to earn that loyalty, and even when their people think the worst of them. Also, Octavia is too selfless, and I really want some of Murphy’s selfishness to rub off on her. He’s not as selfish as people often think, but Octavia doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body, and she could use one.

So yeah. Murphtavia. CockroachQueen. Whatever you want to call the ship. It’s happening. 

18. overall, which story has the better storyline, 3 or 5?

Well, these two are based on the same principles, and created by a fair number of the same people, with the same actors. So the storylines have fair numbers of similarities, but I have to say 5, because Lost wrapped things up at the appropriate time instead of going for a victory lap half-reboot like OUAT did.

19. which has the better theme music, 2 or 4?

2. Shadowhunters. Without a doubt. This is where I first heard Ruelle and Fleurie, and they’re both amazing artists and you should all check them out.

I’m not tagging anyone, but feel free to steal and do it. I don’t know where this thing started, but does anyone with these things, really?

[i-got-that-fandom-kinda-love]

A to Z favourite TV show challenge! Or # to Z?

# - 30 Rock (Liz Lemmon! This is just all kinds of hilarity).

A - Ally McBeal (there's not enough of this on Tumblr btw. I loved it before I understood it - my brother watched and I followed. And then I watched again and I loved it more) / Arrow (so years ago I started watching this because of Tumblr. You guys were obsessed with Olicity and I was too even though I hadn't watched the show. So I watched it. Thank you for ruining my life btw) / Accidentally in Love (Asian Series, sup, @netflix - thanks for getting me addicted to Asian series - I liked them before but now it's just there and begging to be watched AND I CAN'T HELP MYSELF - YOU'VE ADDICTED MY MOTHER TOO).

B - Brooklyn Nine Nine (best thing to happen to me, thank you Tumblr - the nine nine fandom. Also started it a couple years ago and fell in love hard. This show makes me laugh no matter what and it's pure and I love it so much. It's really a show I needed because when I watch series I get really emotionally involved and certain shows leave me so stressed that I have to take a break and all I can watch is comedies for a few weeks. Or months. Depends on how big my heart break was. B99 always makes me laugh and feel lighter). / Buffy the Vampire Slayer (another one from my childhood, you know when you're too young to really understand but old enough to remember it? So yeah, my brother got me hooked at a young age and the addiction stuck. Because I've never been able to forget Buffy. And I've recently been rewatching it with my mother - she too is a bit addicted).

C - Charmed (Original series, not reboot - I haven't even watched the reboot. But yes, Charmed. I remember being up til 10PM on a Monday while I was in primary (middle) school just to watch it. Halliwell sisters are another drug I never could kick - Leo was one of my first ever crushes - my very first crush was Shahrukh Khan and if we're ever talking Bollywood movies he'll be all over that post).

D - Doctor Who (Okay! I only started watching from season 5, again cos NETFLIX - the Doctor and Amy Pond - man, just lock me up in the TARDIS and take me away already. ALSO one of the series that broke my heart enough that rendered me incapable of watching any other series except comedy).

E - Ek Hazaroon Mein Meri Behna Hai (Hindi series; my sister is one in a thousand - I assume it's the name because that sounds better in Hindi than one in a million or billion. There's something about Hindi series that sucks you in and tortures you until you're on the brick of exploding from suspense - the build up is both infuriating and renders you unable to tear your eyes away).

F - Friends ('Cause it's been there for me and how can I not? Again, childhood. Also. Heroes get remembered but legends never die. And I've watched every episode like a gazillion times and laugh just the same - I think even more 'cause I know what's gonna happen. I'm one of those people). / Fairy Tail (Anime. Magic. Friendship. Friendship. Friendship. It's one of those rare shows that has a lot of characters and manages to make you love each one of them. I found it after high school but I love it to bits).

G - Gilmore Girls (I remember the first time I watched this as a kid, Rory and Lorelei were sitting at Luke's diner and chatting about something and I though they were sisters. I was at my cousin's house and I just couldn't stop watching them. Loved it ever since. And it's strange how a randomly watching TV can just change your life - 'cause you know, I obsess) / Gossip Girl (at first, I'd watched it because Kristen Bell was the voice of Gossip Girl. And I needed anything related to anything Veronica Mars. And then I naturally loved it like everybody else. Also disappointed at who GG really was. So yeah.)

H - How I Met Your Mother (At first I really, really loved it, now though it's not so high on my favourite list but it does still make me laugh - cos Barney. The final episode was so disappointing). / Hannah Montana (because if I was 13 or 16 this would have made the list. And I still love the show. My heart swells everytime my bestie sings True Friend to me. I still love Hannah Montana music okay).

I - iZombie (Rob Thomas. He's the reason I tried it out. Liv is the reason I stayed. Also Ravi. And also Major. Okay, dude, characters and plot is right on point) / Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon (Hindi series; what name do I give to this love? Its unnecessarily complicated but gosh those complications kept me on edge, staring at the screen, waiting for those idiots to realise the truth. Opposites attract. Hate to love to hate to love. They did it so well).

J - Joan of Arcadia (okay so I remember really loving this when I was younger - I haven't rewatched it as an adult but I feel like I'll still love it. I mean, come on, what if God was one of us?)

K - Kim Possible (Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me? Ultimate cartoon. Hands down. Second best is The Life and Times of Juniper Lee - she's basically the cartoon Buffy - the Chosen One - though it's hereditary instead of random? And also more fun and less heartache 'cause it's a cartoon).

L - Lucifer (Man, Lucifer. You got the guy telling everyone he's the devil and they think he's talking in metaphors? It's just hilarious to me. Detective. Romance. Snark. Supernatural. Also, Hello, Adult Tom Welling - can I even describe how excited I was to see him? Smallville, man).

M - Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir (One of the few new cartoons that I watch and love. This is just so cute and the love square is just so cute and everything is just so cute. And like we need cute stuff in our lives. Frustrating cos how oblivious can one be but also why you so cute Marinette Dupain Chang and Adrian Agreste aka Ladybug and Cat Noir)/ Malcolm in the Middle (Childhood. Childhood. Childhood. I'm not the middle child but I relate).

N - Naruto (Anime. Okay, childhood yes, also teenagehood and adulthood. Guy's been with me through everything, believe it. This show just means so much to me and I'm thankful that I got to grow up with him. Thank you, Kishimoto).

O - One Day At a Time (THANK YOU, NETFLIX! This is just one of the greatest shows on right now. I love comedy. I didn't expect it to be so emotional too. But damn it gets you right in the feels. My brother claims I'm exactly like Elena and our nephew is like Alex. I honestly don't mind. Elena is badass and strong as hell.)

P - Psych (It's just awesome? It's clever, it's funny, Shawn and Gus. The dramatics in extremely serious situations will never not make grin like a mad woman. Also private investigation shows seem to a weakness of mine. ) / Parks and Recreation (okay I never thought I'd like a mockumentary kind of series but this happened and proved me wrong and I just love this show and it's characters). / Pyaar Ka Dard Hai Meetha Meetha Pyara Pyara (Hindi Series; the pain of love is sweet and loveable. When your parents set you up with someone and you're like no way in hell and they're like okay but they you become best friends and fall in love and yeah. The name says it all, really). / Pinocchio (Asian series - one of the more complicated ones but I simply just loved these characters and actors to bits after watching it).

Q - Quantico (it's not really one of my favourites but I couldn't think of anything else and I do enjoy it. Priyanka Chopra has always been a fav since forever - Bollywood was life before I was even old enough to understand English - but it's because of this that I can understand Hindi without needing subtitles).

R - Rizzoli & Isles (who wouldn't love a show with two best friends kicking ass in the work place). / Revenge (I watched it cos I liked Emily from Everwood but the story was so intriguing and I just got addicted. It wasn't like anything I've ever seen). / Refresh Man (Asian series - officially my favourite Asian series of all time - again, thank you Netflix. Also ever since I've loved both Aaron Yan and Joanna Tseng and I'm on a mission to watch everything they've ever acted in - do you see my obsessing tenancies?).

S - Supergirl / Supernatural / Suits / Smallville (Okay! There's too many shows that start with an S. Smallville was my gateway into the superhero show - movie - comic obsession. And also I'm getting tired of commenting on everything).

T - The Good Place / The Office (US) / The Flash/ Teen Wolf (also too many with a T!)

U - Ugly Betty

V - Veronica Mars (of all time!! Man, again, random TV viewing = life changing TV show that sticks with you forever and Veronica Mars has definitely affected me way more than any other show. I couldn't get it out of my head ever since 2007! I waited for every Thursday just to watch it and naturally Thursday became my favourite day of the week - not Friday like normal scholars - nope. I think it's the way that it ended that contributed to my obsession - so much questions left unanswered and to a 12 year old girl the most important thing is of course that LoVe hadn't officially gotten back together. My mind wrote and rewrote endings and scenarios. Then I discovered fanfiction. And then I started writing. Veronica Mars made me a junkie but also helped me discover my passion. It's not just the show that makes it my #1 but the journey it's taken me on while it was on air and especially when it was off air. ALSO THE SHOW IS SIMPLY AMAZING EVEN WITHOUT ALL MY EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT - also one of the shows that I started watching and then my brother got hooked onto it).

W - What's Wrong With Secretary Kim? / Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo/ W: two worlds apart (all Asian series - OKAY, NETFLIX IS BLAMED FOR ALL OF THIS)

X - Is there anything but X-Men? I wouldn't really put the series on my favourite list but I do watch the X-Men cartoons and I have enjoyed it so imma let it be.

Y - Young Sheldon (Too smart for his own good Cooper.) / Yankee-kun to Megane-chan (Asian series - okay, this one can't be put on Netflix. It's the first Asian drama series I'd watched because of a manga that I loved).

Z - Zoey101 ('Cause there's nothing else I can think off and I enjoyed it when I was younger. I remember putting 101 after all of my usernames for everything).

So when I thought of this I thought I'd put one name for each alphabet but it didn't work out that way 'cause I obsess over everything.

I would love to get to know more about everyone's favourite shows. I'm tagging based on the Tumblr likes thing (also on my @marshmallowatheart account) and also urls I remember seeing often on the activity cos I wanted to tag as much people as possible. I'd have been cool if I could have went with the a - z for tagging but it's not working out like I wanted so next best. (Also if I didn't tag you and you wanna do it, please go for it, I'm really into this).

Anyone who wants to do this can and whoever doesn't want to it's cool! It takes time to think especially when you have to pick between things so if you want to, add as many as you like. You don't have to add comments on it if you don't want to, I just got carried away! And then got tired.

@poppy-in-the-woods @risssaar @stephaniecatlover @ihaveathingformeninwaistcoats @write-to-feel @mediocre-mee @jenilyn2000 @lalacristina18 @cainc3 @mrskissytaylor @anilcadz91 @elliebear75 @troublescout @hanitjemars @susanmichelin @cheshirecatstrut @firedragonmon

[leiascully]

Fic: Home Again (Part 5/5)

Timeline: Season 10 (replaces Home Again in its original order in the All The Choices We’ve Made ‘verse - Visitor + Resident + etc.) Rating: PG Characters:  Mulder, Scully, Bill Scully, the Trashman (established MSR) Content warning:  canon-typical body horror (dismemberment) A/N:  This story is an alternate Home Again that cleaves fairly close to the original but reflects M&S’ growth/change in the ATCWM ‘verse and makes reference to past cases. I’m weaving canon dialogue into the stories in an attempt to keep the reframing plausibly in line with canon.

Here’s the end of it, and here’s the link to all of it on AO3:

She spends the entire drive to Philadelphia staring out the window as tears roll down her cheeks.  She isn't even actively crying, just leaking.  Lachrymose.  Lagrimosa.  If she were a statue, it would be a miracle.  She wishes she were a statue.  

At the lab, Mulder introduces her to the lab techs.  She smiles politely, eyes dry at last, but she can't remember their names, even when she looks at their nametags.  She has one hand in her pocket, worrying the coin necklace like a talisman, and her phone in the other hand, waiting for Bill to call.   Their mother may be dead, but her life isn't over.  There will be loose ends to tie up, certificates to file, legal documents to be read and analyzed.  Her body was, in some ways, the least significant part of her existence, until it failed.  It's a lesson Scully has learned over and over as a forensic pathologist.  

"I broke down the paint samples you chipped away from the Trashman's signature," says one of the scientists, gesturing at an expensive-looking machine.  "I used vibrational spectography to analyze it.  It defines binders, pigments, and additives that are in spray paint.  The binder present in this breakdown was patented by a brand called Cannonz - that's with a z - and used only in their high-end spray paints."

Scully Googles it.  Cannonz with a z makes a lot of spray paint, but when she puts in Philadelphia, the results narrow.  "Product locator indicates there's only one store in Central Philadelphia that carries it," she announces.  

"Then it's time for a visit," Mulder says, and they're off.  The forward motion feels good.  It feels productive.  When she's still, her insides churn and her mind slips inevitably back to the hospital.  

"You want to stake out the store?" Mulder asks.  

She opens her mouth to say yes, please, let me work, but then reconsiders.  The few times she's been in a hardware store, she's been too noticeable.  Men assume she doesn't know what she wants, or that she's a DIY blogger, or that one way or another, she needs their attention.  It'll be better if Mulder does it and she stays in the car.  

"No," she says.  "It's a little conspicuous.  Better if I drive."  

"Okay," he says.  

+ + + +

Mulder lurks in the hardware store, pretending to look at sandpaper and paint.  It's easy and absorbing to flip through the paint chips.  Maybe they should redo the bedroom.  He hasn't, since she moved back in.  Maybe it's time for a new look to go with the reboot of their old life.  Something to signify that the times have really changed.  They've never really lived anywhere that had color on the walls.  

He knows she's right and she would be conspicuous.  A beautiful woman in a suit in a hardware store is unlikely to be an everyday occurrence, especially one who occasionally weeps in an understated and elegant way that breaks hearts.  As far as he's concerned, she's always the center of attention.  

Movement catches his eye.  There's a young man by the spray paint.  He knocks cans of Cannonz Premium into his basket: black, light grey, dark grey, white.  There's no hesitation in his movement.  Mulder follows him, walking casually with his fistful of paint chips, moving toward the front of the store.  The kid looks back over his shoulder.  Mulder detours down another aisle, glancing at a display of fans.  When he catches up again, the kid has ditched his basket of paint and is headed for the front door.  Mulder trails him.  He follows the kid out the front door at a reasonable difference.  Scully's in the car.  Her head is bent, looking at something she's holding, probably the necklace her mother will never get a chance to explain.  He whistles, wishing he didn't have to, and her head snaps up.  She shifts out of park and follows him.

Mulder runs, wishing he wasn't wearing dress shoes.  Scully catches up to him and pulls over a hundred feet away.  He flings open the door and climbs into the passenger's seat.  

"That way," he says, panting.  They run the kid to ground at a warehouse in a fenced-off wooded lot.  Mulder jumps out of the car and regrets it as his knee twinges.  Some parts of them are getting too old for this.  But he glimpses the kid and takes off in pursuit, Scully close behind him.  They clamber through a hole in the chain-link fence.  The kid stops to unlock a door.  He's polite for a vandal and potential murderer.

"Federal agents!" Mulder calls, just as the kid gets the door open and vanishes through it.  Mulder shares a look with Scully and they go in.  It's dim inside the warehouse, like most of the warehouses he's been in, but his reflexes are still sharp and he reaches for his weapon almost without thinking as he sees the kid draw a gun.  Scully has the kid in a headlock almost before either of them can react.  He wonders if she took up jujitsu in the time they were apart.  She's impressive.  Then again, she always was.  She hands him the kid's gun and cuffs the kid.

"We're looking for the Trashman," Mulder says.

The kid sighs.  "Why would I know where he is?"

"You had the paint," Mulder tells him.  

"Is it a crime to buy paint?" the kid snarks.

"No, but it's a crime to deface other people's property," Scully says.  

"With the same paint the Trashman uses," Mulder points out.  

"Why are you looking for him?" the kid asks.

"We believe he may be a key witness in a murder case," Scully says, looking at Mulder.  

"There might be compensation in it for the person who could help us find him," Mulder says.

"Lead with that next time," the kid grumbles.  "You want the Trashman?  Take the cuffs off and I'll take you to him."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Scully asks.

"You're the ones with the guns," the kid says.  

She raises her eyebrow at Mulder.  He shrugs.  They've had this discussion more times than he can count.  It hasn't needed to be verbalized for decades.  The potential reward outweighs the risk.  He's pretty sure Scully could throw this kid.  She uncuffs him and the kid rubs his wrist.

"We kept our end," Mulder says.

"Right this way," the kid says, like a sarcastic maitre d'.  He leads them through the warehouse to another door that he unlocks with his jingling ring of keys.  There are stairs dimly visible beyond it.  The kid points down to them.  Mulder pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight.  He should have brought a real one.  There were years when he never went anywhere without a flashlight.  The one on his phone is brighter, but harder to balance across his gun.  Twenty-first century skills.

"I'm just letting you know," the kid says, "from here on down, there's no light.  Power's out."

"Crime doesn't pay the bills," Mulder jokes.  The kid pretends to laugh.  The three of them start to ease down the stairs.  It's dark, but the stairs seem to be in good condition, and they're even.  The light from their phones casts dizzying shadows around their feet, but that's something Mulder can deal with.  He spent decades in the shadows.  When they're what must be most of the way down, the kid shoves them suddenly into the wall and pelts back up the stairs.  Mulder sighs.  Scully shoots him a sideways glare.

"What?" he says.  "I wasn't going to shoot him.  He's a kid and it's dark.  You want to do the stairs, be my guest.  I'm too old for that shit."

She rolls her eyes.  "Mulder, back in the day, I used to do stairs in three-inch heels."

He glances at her feet and shines his phone at them.  "'Back in the day', huh.  Three inches not enough for you anymore?"

She rolls her eyes again.

"Go for it, G-Woman," he tells her.  

"I'm not leaving you alone in the dark," she says.  

"By all means, ladies first," he tells her, making a sweeping gesture.  She comes down the last few stairs and steps onto the warehouse basement floor.  They make their halting way across it, but the floor is mostly clear.  It's the dark that's the danger.  The light washes it away, but it flows back around them as they move.  Mulder's shoulders tense.  There's something down here, or someone; he knows it with a certainty he can't shake.  His nerves twang.  Suddenly, there's a flicker of white at the edge of their pool of light.  It freezes as the light touches it, and then flees, straight into a wall.  It hits with a thud and falls to the ground.  They run to catch up, but it's gone.  There's only a pale puddle, a muddle of cloth.  He nudges it with the toe of his shoe.  It leaves a smudge.

"What the hell?" Scully says.  

Mulder shrugs, already proceeding.  At the end of the corridor, there's a locked metal door.  Mulder locks eyes with Scully and then bangs on the door with his fist, hoping his phone won't fly out.  "Federal agents!  Open up!  If you're in danger, we're here to help."

"I am in danger," say a voice inside.  It's a baritone, slightly raspy.  "Go away."

Mulder glances at Scully.  She nods.  He kicks open the door, creaky knees be damned.  He's just lucky this one opens in.  He's made the mistake before of trying to kick in a door that opened out.  They burst into the room like they're on a movie set.  There's a statue in the middle, human-sized, of a human-shaped figure with a trash bag shirt and a Band-Aid on its nose.  Mulder gets chills down his spine, remembering other statues with other faces inside them, wet clay plastered slashed-open faces, a muse like a demon that drove an old mentor to murder.  He takes a step toward the statue.

"Put the guns down!" says the voice.  "They don't work on them!  Put them away!  They don't work.  I've tried.  I've tried to shoot them."

Behind the statue, there's a man.  He's hiding behind a shopping cart full of spray paint cans.  The shadows stripe his face, cutting him into checkers.  They aim at him, guns and lights trained toward him.  

"You the Trashman?" Mulder asks.

"Turn down the light, man," the Trashman says.  "Turn down the light.  If they don't see me and I don't see them, they can't hurt me."

"What's the opposite of hiding in the light?" Scully murmurs.  She points her light toward the floor but holds her weapon steady.  Mulder turns his flashlight off.

"Thanks, man," the Trashman says.  "Hold on, I've got a candle.  Candles aren't enough to attract them."

He straightens up from behind the cart, pulling himself up on the wire frame, and shuffles over toward a workbench.  He strikes a match and lights three little candles.  Scully reluctantly turns off her light, but she doesn't holster her weapon.

"We can place you near the scene of two different murders," Mulder says.  "Why don't you explain that to us."

"The people on the streets - the homeless people, the street people - they ain't got no voice, right?" the Trashman says, leaning against the workbench.  "They get treated like trash.  I mean, actual trash.  It's like this.  You throw your grande cup or your Coke bottle in the right trash can under the sink - if it's recyclable, if it's not - you tie it in a bag, you take it outside, you put it in the right dumpster.  You feel good about yourself.  You saved the world, a little bit.  Kept global warming at bay, spared a sea turtle or two.  Garbage truck comes to take the trash away.  One way or another, it's not your problem.  Just like magic.  But it is your problem, because it piles up in a landfill, or it gets floated out to sea on a barge, or it gets incinerated, and now there's toxins in the water and in the land and in the sky.  But you don't see the problem, so there is no problem."

"Is someone incinerating the homeless population?" Scully asks.

"It's a metaphor," the Trashman says.  "People treat people like trash, like if they can just sweep them somewhere else, there's no problem.  They don't fix the problem.  They just try to eliminate the symptoms."

"So you fixed the problem?" Mulder asks.

"I did my part," the Trashman says, some kind of pride in his voice.

"By killing Joseph Cutler and Nancy Huff?" Mulder asks.

"There were two art thieves too," the Trashman says.  "The ones who stole the billboard.  They've been taking my work for months, selling it to the people who cause the problem.  That's why I switched to brick.  Can't steal brick."  He pushes a hand through his hair.  "I was just trying to give those people a voice the only way I know how.  Through art, not violence.  I wanted something I could put around town so they wouldn't be forgotten.  A stencil that looked over the Bad Suit Building Man, the Lawn Gnome Suburban Lady.  A reminder for them.  A stop sign."

"Why'd you put up the art after the fact?" Mulder demands.  "We've got footage that shows that the graffiti on the billboard wasn't painted until the morning of Cutler's murder."

"I didn't do it," the Trashman protests.  "That wasn't me.  I made the stencil, but I didn't paint the billboard.  I only thought him up, you know?  Those people who got killed - that was him.  Only him."

"Who, exactly, is him?" Scully asks.

"You saw those things in the hall," the Trashman says.  "I heard you."

"Yeah," Mulder allows.  

"I made them," the Trashman says.  "I didn't mean to, but I made 'em.  They'll go away, eventually.  They're kind of fading out, the less I think about it.  But the Band-Aid Nose Man...he's different.  He's got a life of his own."

Mulder turns to look at the statue.  It doesn't move.

"Tibetan Buddhists would call him a Tulpa," the Trashman continues.  "A thought form using mind and energy to will a consciousness into existence."

Mulder glances at Scully.  Motor oil and coffee grounds, he thinks, red footprints staining the plush white carpet in a perfect suburban McMansion.  "Tulpa is a 1929 Theosophist mistranslation of the Tibetan world 'tulku', meaning 'a manifestation body'," he says.  "There is no idea in Tibetan Buddhism of a thought form or thought as form.  And a realized tulku would never harm anyone.  That's antithetical to the Buddhist tradition."  

"A thought form made of trash seems unlikely at best," Scully murmurs, and Mulder knows that she remembers it too.

"Okay," the Trashman says.  "But Buddhist or philosophist or whatever, I'm telling you, I spend a lot of energy on my art.  I meditated on it.  I put all my energy into the Band-Aid Nose Man, and somehow, I willed it to become what the street people needed.  Someone who didn't see them as trash.  Someone willing to deal with the problem."

"That's a powerful wish," Scully says.  

"I thought about what I wanted him to look like, what I wanted him to be, and why I wanted him," the Trashman says, shuffling through a pile of papers.  He holds up a sketch of the Band-Aid Nose Man, beaming like a proud parent, and Mulder feels a pang in his heart.  He remembers Maggie holding up a photo of William like that.  Their son, no less a miracle, no less a thought made form.  They wished devoutly for him, prayed for him, and he was made flesh.

"I didn't bring him here," the Trashman says.  "He came to me.  I didn't expect him, but he told me what he wanted to be.  What he wanted to do.  All we do is hold the pencil, or the clay, or the words, or whatever the medium.  I think there must be spirits and souls floating all around us.  And if you think real hard or you want them so, so bad that you can't think of anything else...they come to you.  They pass through you on their way to existence.  And then they become alive with a life of their own."

Scully's breath hitches like a hiccup and Mulder knows she's thinking of William and of her parents, of the spirit she saw when her father died and of the way her mother slipped away.

"This is what came to me in my dreams," the Trashman says earnestly.  "From some other place I can't fathom.  It's more powerful than I even imagined.  But now it's alive and it's out there, right down to the Band-Aid I used to hold the clay in place while it dried.  Who would copy this?  Who could?  And did you smell it?  It smells like nothing on this earth.  It has its own life now.  Does what it wants.  Goes where it wants.  I just wanted to scare anyone who took dignity away from the homeless, who treated them like trash.  I just wanted them to know that fear.  That's where the violent idea popped into my head.  It was just an emotion, just a notion that went through my head while I was making it.  They treat people like trash, so they should know what it feels like.  But ideas are dangerous.  Even small ones.  It uses that violent thought now.  It thinks that's what it's supposed to do.  Put them in the trash."

Scully looks mesmerized.  She shakes her head.  "You are responsible," she says.  "If you made the problem, if it was your idea...you're responsible for whatever destruction it causes.  You put it out of sight, so that it wouldn't be your problem.  But you're just as bad as the people you hate."

Mulder doesn't think the Trashman can hear the ache in her voice.  He wants to tell her that their son was never a problem.  But it isn't the moment, and he wasn't there.  She's told him of the moving mobile, of the powers their son might have shown, of the danger inherent in those abilities.  He can't believe that Scully's child would have used those powers to destroy or to harm, but he could believe it of his child.  Maybe they called to the universe and a spirit answered, and they just didn't have the time to understand its purposes.  Benign or malign, William is out of their life, but Mulder isn't sure if that kind of connection can ever be broken.  He kept looking for Samantha.  Maggie asked for Charlie.  The act of creation is powerful.  Maybe that tie can't be severed.

"If what you believe is possible," he says, returning to the Trashman, "the last person involved in the relocation would be Landry."

"He got the injunction lifted," the Trashman says.  "He was bragging about it in front of the HUD office, letting everybody know.  They're moving people out to Franklin Hospital tonight.  There's signs posted and everything."  

"Don't leave the state," Scully says.  "We may need to speak with you again."

The Trashman laughs.  It's a hollow sound.  "Got nowhere to go."

"That's what they all say before they run," Mulder says dryly.  "I think we'd better bring you along with us."  

They take the candles as they climb back up the stairs.  The Trashman seems convinced any more light will attract more of his ghouls, or tulpas, or whatever they are.  They don't seem to have as much power as the Band-Aid Nose Man.  Still, Mulder would rather avoid any delays.  He gets out his phone and looks up the number for Landry's firm.  The secretary, alarmed, gives him Landry's cell phone number, and Mulder dials quickly.  

"Mr. Landry," he says when his call goes to voicemail, "this is Agent Mulder with the FBI.  I need you to call me back.  It's urgent."  

Scully's on the phone with the Philly PD.  "We're looking for Daryl Landry," she says as she opens the door and gestures the Trashman into the back seat.  The GPS sends them on a convoluted route back to the HUD office.  Mulder checks his watch.  By the time they pull up in front of the office, the yellow school bus is gone, leaving only a cloud of diesel fumes.  Scully, with a grim set to her mouth, puts Franklin Hospital in the GPS.  

"Just trash," the Trashman says.  "That's what he thinks of them.  Put them in the right bin and they'll disappear, like magic.  Put them in the right bin and they'll be somebody else's problem."

"Thank you," Scully says.  "Very helpful."  

The hospital is a big building, half of it lit in the dim of the evening.  They run in through the doors, the Trashman behind them.  

"Landry?" Mulder bellows.  "Where's Landry?"

"He took my dog," a man says.  "He sent my dog to the shelter.  I need my dog.  I told him I wasn't coming if I couldn't have my dog."

"I tried to tell him," a woman says.  "I tried, but he kept going."

"Which way did he go?" Scully demands.

The woman points.  They clatter down the hall, dress shoes noisy on the tile.  

"Ugh!" Scully says.  "That smell!"

"Like nothing on this earth," the Trashman says.  "I told you."

There's a scream.  They burst into a room.  It's tiled, lined with showers, with benches down the middle.  There's no exit except the one they came through.  On the floor of one of the showers is a heap.  That's the best way Mulder can describe it.  The heap was a person until recently - that much is clear - but that person has been...disassembled.  Next to the heap is a phone, blood splashed across the illuminated screen.  

"There's only one way out of this room," Scully says, easing forward, peering into the stalls.  "He screamed just seconds ago.  How did we not see whoever did this to him leave the room?"  She scuffs her foot like there's something on her shoe.  "Mulder," she says.

When she moves her foot, there's a Band-Aid stuck to the floor.  

"I told you," the Trashman says.

"How do we find him?" Mulder demands.

"How the hell would I know?" the Trashman says.  "I didn't plan this.  I didn't tell him to do it."

"Are you willing to say that in a sworn statement?" Mulder asks.  

"Yeah, man," the Trashman says.  "Call me in."

"We can hold him overnight," Scully murmurs.  "Talk to him in the morning."  

"Let's do it now," Mulder says.  "There'll be somebody to talk to him at the police station.  We'll turn him over to them."  He looks at her.  "Let's go home, Scully."

He sees the gleam of tears in her eyes.  "Home," she says quietly.  

"Yeah," he says.  "Let somebody else write the report.  We'll fill in what details we can, but...."  He shrugs.  "It's an X-File.  It's unexplainable.  I'm learning when to let go."

"It's not easy," she whispers.  

"I know it's not," he says.  

"Are you letting me go?" the Trashman asks.

"No," Mulder says.  He picks up his phone.  "Can I speak to Detective Dross?  We've got a situation out at the Franklin Hospital that relates to his case."  

They wait at the old hospital until Dross shows up, fielding questions about dogs and when people will be able to go back to their usual spots.  The Trashman seems calm.  Maybe the Band-Aid Nose Man's murder spree is over, the violent notion having run its course.  Maybe the Trashman's a sociopath.  Either way, they're turning over the case.  Someone else can run the truth down to its burrow.  He's taking Scully home to their own house, where she can cry her eyes out in peace, and he can hold her in his arms and cry too for a kind woman who held him close when no one else understood what he might lose.  

+ + + +

The funeral is sweet, but short.  Bill gives a speech.  It's surprisingly gentle.  Scully gives a speech too.  She stands at the lectern, hands braced on the sides.

"Mom was always there for me when I needed her," she says, keeping her voice deliberate and low.  "She was always there for all of us, no matter how far away we went.  And I know that she's still here for us.  For her children, her grandchildren, and all of us.  Her heart...her heart was so big.  And I'm going to miss her so much."

"You should take the ashes," Bill says at the end.  "You knew her the best.  You were at Dad's funeral.  Just take them to the same place."

"I will," she says.  

Mulder holds out his hand.  "Sorry to see you under these circumstances," he says.

Bill, after a moment, reaches out and shakes hands.  "Maybe next time there will be better ones."  

"Let's hope so," Mulder says.  

"I've got to get to the airport," Bill says.  "I couldn't take any more time away.  But I know you'll do the right thing."

"Thank you," Scully says.  

Bill hugs her, a little stiffly.  She hugs him back.  

"I wish Charlie had come," she says.

"It's a little far," Bill says.  

"I know," she tells him.  "Still.  You made it in from Germany."

"You of all people should know that Charlie's different," Bill says.  

"Melissa was different," she says, her words curling into each other with remembered affection.  "Charlie's just...Charlie."  

"You're all different," Bill says.  "I guess we're all different.  But you're the one who went the farthest, Dana."  

She scoffs.  "I'm the one who stayed home."

"Not physically," he says.  "You're the only one who did the unexpected."

She draws back a little.  "Bill, I don't know what to say."

"I was a little envious," he says.  "We all were."  He hugs her again.  "Take care of yourself, Dana."

"You too," she says.  "Give my love to Tara and the boys."

"I will," he says.  

She looks at Mulder helplessly.  He shrugs very slightly and hands her a handkerchief as Bill strolls away.  She picks up the urn.

"Where are we going?" Mulder says, pulling out his keys.  

"I'll tell you on the way," she says.  

They drive to the beach where Scully once watched her father's ashes being scattered.  She cues up "Beyond The Sea" on her phone as they tip Maggie's ashes into the waves.  

"We should have gotten a boat," Mulder says.

"It's all right," Scully says.  "Mom always liked to stay close to shore."  They sit on a log and watch the waves wash up and over the sand, distributing the dark smudge.  

"I know she's still with you, Scully," Mulder says, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders.

"She is," she says.  She sighs.  "I've been thinking about thought forms."

"I thought we agreed that the thought form was a stretch at best," he says.

"I know now why Mom asked for Charlie, even though he was out of her life," she says.  "She wanted to know before he left that he'd be okay.  She gave birth to him.  She made him.  In a way, isn't that a thought given form?  He was her responsibility.  And that's why she said what she said to us."

"We gave him form," Mulder says softly.  "William."  

"Didn't we?" she says.  "We wished for him.  Mulder, we wished for him so hard.  Maybe that's how he came into the world.  And she wanted to know that we were okay, that he was okay."  

"I'm sure he's okay," Mulder says.  "You made sure of that."

"We gave him up to keep him safe," Scully says.  "But I can't help but think of him, Mulder.  I can't help it."

"Neither can I," he says.  

"I'm so happy that we're back on the X-Files," she says.  "I knew I would miss it, but I didn't know how much.  And I believe we will find the answers to the mysteries we're seeking, side by side."  She turns to him.  "But our mysteries - some of them can never be answered.  I won't know if he thinks of us, or if he's ever been afraid and wished that I was there, the way I wished for my mom so many times.  Does he know that he's adopted?  Does he doubt that we love him?  I have this necklace, this quarter, and I have so many questions, and I'm sure I'll only have more as we go through her effects.  Does he have questions?  Does he look in the mirror and see us?"  

"I'm sure he knows that he's loved," Mulder says.  "By us, by his parents.  By everyone who knows him, probably."

Her voice falters.  "I just have to believe...Mulder, I have to believe we didn't treat him like trash.  Our son, Mulder."

He pulls her against his shoulder and she bursts into tears.

"You didn't have a choice," he says as she sobs, her tears soaking into his lapel.  "Scully, he knows.  You did the right thing.  When you meet him, that won't be a mystery."  She feels his lips mumble against her hair.  "He'll know how hard we wished for him, how wanted and cherished and treasured he was.  He couldn't not know that, seeing you."

She cries until she can't cry anymore, and it helps, as much as anything could, and then they go home.