#they do also of course get their little group with the late repentant

[muzzleroars]

Any interactions between risen ferryman and everyone?

the ferryman is a strange presence in heaven - long accustomed to the styx and the sinners they carried across it, they have a quiet yet strict demeanor. the world they come from is, obviously, harsh and relentless by its very design, and they had to meet it in equal measure to deal with the husks that constantly poured onto their ship. it makes them a bit out of place with the other human souls who have forgotten things outside of paradise yet they also can't hope to breach the circles of the true angels, and they fear almost that hell has made them unfit purely over time.

however, michael, who brought them here in error, is the first to understand them in their personality and their unwavering faith in god. he invites them to worship with him, guiding them through the heavenly service as one of the high priests of god's altar, and i think they spend a lot of time together in study as well. michael has rarely experienced human faith which differs greatly from the angels, and in time too they begin to relate over the harshness of the duties they once carried out. the ferryman's always quite glad when v2 visits as well, not only appreciating it as a wealth of deep thought and helpful philosophies, but also simply grateful it's as out of place as they are. v2 shrugs it all off, saying if they're in with mike there's really nothing anyone can say about it - it helps them explore, enthusiastically moving through heaven's streets or its now vast outskirts in ways they may not have alone.

uriel is just as reserved as they are, but the ferryman marvels at all of his vast works, now completed, a library impossible to see the beginning or end of. yet they learn uriel very much enjoys stories - he knows the whole of history, but he listens with rapt, meditative attention to the ferryman recount their life on earth or their time in hell. he appreciates the personal touch, they find, and they end up sharing dozens of stories while uriel is a wonderful source of everything they had ever wished to know (he knows too all the little questions they had asked themselves, and the answers to them even if they're now long forgotten). importantly, the ferryman helps uriel use his hands once more in art and writing as they trade their stories.

raphael is the most unsure relating to them with the little contact he's had to those in hell - however, the ferryman is more gentle than their demeanor can sometimes suggest. they enjoy fishing together, with raphael taking a good interest in how the ferryman had once cared for the souls they carried across the styx - they had fiercely defended the sanctity of their ship while also still making it as comfortable as hell could allow. i think they also enjoy learning from raphael, who has very little to share his knowledge of herbs and cures with now since they're so defunct.

they feel a bit awkward for some time when they visit gabriel, though he insists he is nothing but happy for them now. he's glad to receive news about heaven's state from them when he knows his siblings can have a very different perspective from the human souls there, and gabriel is an invaluable source in turn for navigating heaven. v1 is actually quite the comfort as well, a risen "soul" itself that can relate to their confusion and occasional frustrations transitioning from sinner to saved. it gives them much more confidence, seeing it fully embrace its new state and not care about its mistakes, though they know its situation is quite different.

difficulties do arise with the prime souls and lucifer, however, who each have their reservations or outright rejection of the ferryman's current status. minos and sisyphus take issue in accepting their elevation, both ghosts now locked in what they died for and much more unable to see nuance. minos is conflicted, wanting the best for human souls but too damaged by the institution of heaven and how it is upheld by humanity as well. sisyphus views it as ceding to the law of heaven, how the only way to be allowed into their fold is through the deepest supplication over decades. lucifer entirely pushes them out, their visits accordingly short as it will always attract his open hostility - he will see no angelic presence in hell that has no business with him. gabriel has attempted to soften lucifer's treatment of the ferryman in particular, but he's made little progress.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[laceymorganwrites]

The story of the sad chapter 17

Word count: 1,792

Pairing: Ban x goddess!reader

Warnings: uuuuh swearing, maybe a teeny tiny bit of blood and gore?

A/N: eheheehhe we´re back~ I´ll try to update this at least once a month but I can´t promise anything. thanks for your support

Grabbing your sword, you dashed forward and slashed Hendrickson´s shoulder, though the wound you inflicted didn´t last very long, soon you were followed by your friends, each of you getting a few good hits in.

Though nothing seemed to work, in this state he was invincible and it enraged you.

How dare he use magic as dark as this? Wasn´t he aware of what happened all those millennia ago? Wasn´t he aware of the consequences? What goal could be so great as to forget all about that?

Resurrecting the demon clan to him meant power, but he didn´t think about the source of it, he didn´t think about the fact that they would betray him as soon as they could walk the earth again.

“Leave the rest to us…” Meliodas announced to Elizabeth before joining the fight.

The princess now rested next to Hawk, trying to protect his dead body.

You tried to regain your composure and focus on the fight, trying to make out Hendrickson´s weak points, but he kept attacking you and your friends so that it was almost impossible.

In a flurry of magical blows, Gowther lost his head and glasses, you almost stepped on them, but quickly picked them up to hand them over to him.

Meliodas told all of you to get ready for your big attack.

A smile formed on your lips, finally.

It was time.

All of you got ready to use your strongest attack on Meliodas, so that he could in turn counter them on Hendrickson.

You made it your mission to distract the demon while Meliodas gathered as much magic as he could, using your wings to take him off his feet and slashing your sword at him with full force.

“Tell me, what did you gain from all this? You know, demonic magic might be strong on its own, but you underestimated us! This is the end for you” you called out to Hendrickson, letting him know that he has lost.

It was impossible to dodge or stop Meliodas´ attack at this point.

The shockwave from the attack was so great that it shook the ground, you had trouble staying on your feet and fell against Ban, who caught you.

He smiled at you, even through the chaos and was more than relieved and happy to see you mostly unharmed.

All eyes were on the exhausted Meliodas as Merlin returned with the king, he was better now since she treated him.

You looked around the battlefield, holding Ban´s hand tightly and took in the damage and loss, but also a bitter sense of victory. At least for now.

For now you allowed yourself to smile, to exhale the breath you didn´t realize you were holding, to revel in your boyfriend´s presence and feel the happiness of him being there with you.

In a fit of guilt the holy knights knelt down before the king, apologizing for their sins and asking for his punishment.

You had to chuckle a bit, they were good souls after all. But that was just how the demons liked it, they took the good souls and made them rotten, good souls were easier to corrupt, to bend to their will.

It wasn´t their fault, they simply were taken in by a greater power than them. A power they simply couldn´t defeat by themselves.

The king announced that there would be no punishment and that the knights should repent for their sins in rebuilding the kingdom and working hard.

Then the king faced you and your friends, expressing his gratitude.

“I guess that´s just what we do” you chuckled.

“We can´t help but aid those in need” you stated, smiling at him.

No matter how evil they painted you as, your group were always after helping people.

Elizabeth also got praised for being brave and making this all possible, if she hadn´t searched for your group and wouldn´t have stumbled into your bar, you wouldn´t have been reunited with all the others.

Well, most of them anyway.

The princess started crying, blaming herself for Hawk´s death, while you and Ban went over to his dead body to pay your respects.

He had been with you in those years when you were almost happy, always being there for you and everyone else.

As if by some sort of miracle, the little pig revived, making everyone around you smile in shock and happiness.

You only smiled to yourself and looked over to Elizabeth, she probably didn´t even realize what she just did.

A part of you was glad she didn´t, that meant she didn´t remember anything heartbreaking and utterly sad, but even so… not remembering your one true love was still the worst curse in your opinion.

Everyone cheered and for a moment it felt as if everything was back to normal, whatever that strange state might be.

Elizabeth hugged Meliodas and healed his wounds, once again not comprehending it was her doing.

She reunited with her sister, overwhelmed by everything happening, her cheerfulness knew no bounds.

You leaned against Ban a bit and he laid an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and gently tracing his fingers over your shoulder.

Exhausted you all made your way back to the Boar Hat to rest a bit.

“I just want to sleep… for a week” you groaned as you threw yourself onto the bed.

Elaine giggled.

“But then you´d just miss everything! And we´d miss you” she joined you on bed, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Hm, okay you got a point” you thought out loud, shifting a bit so you were more comfortable to which Elaine jokingly complained.

“You can´t even sit still even when you´re supposed to rest, can you?” she giggled.

“I guess not….it used to be so easy back then. After every battle I´d just sleep the whole day” you reminisced.

It was a nice memory, the bed always felt the softest after a long and hard battle. Returning home meant feeling each and every one of your muscles ache, sneaking out to meet Estarossa for a bit only to have to hurry up the rest of the way so you wouldn´t cause any suspicions.

And nobody would bother you in the day after the battle, it was a peace and quiet you didn´t know anymore.

But it was also one you never wanted to have again.

You much preferred the chaos of your friends, talking with Ban until you both fell asleep in each other´s arms.

“Now you have something to fight for” Elaine smiled and you nodded.

You never gave it much thought back then. Sure, you always thought you did it for your friends, but you didn´t have friends. It was simply your duty you had to fulfill, the expectations that came from leading the army rested heavy on your shoulders, making you more exhausted than ever.

But now you had your friends and love lifting you up, cheering for you, truly. It made you feel so alive, more vibrant than the brightest colors imaginable.

You would always give it your all when it came to protecting your loved ones.

With that thought and a smile on your face you and Elaine slowly fell asleep.

Within the next few days the rebuilding of the capital and everything else that got destroyed was of the utmost importance.

Everyone helped and of course so did you.

It was nice having a routine again, it felt going back to your normal every day life even though you never had anything of the sort.

Though lately you seemed to crave normality.

It wasn´t like your life was bad at any means, it was just that you were sick of fighting.

Elaine and you were on lookout and helped rebuild the roofs and other things in high places, handing the others the things they needed.

Together you worked quite quickly, after all you unfortunately had a lot of experience.

After a while you came down to the ground again and stretched your tired muscles.

“I´ll go see what the others are up to, keep an eye on everything for me, will you?” you smiled and Elaine nodded.

“I hope they´re almost done! The festival is about to start” she reminded you to which you nodded and made your way to the Boar Hat.

As soon as you stepped through the door you could smell Ban´s cooking, making you even hungrier than before.

You exchanged loving smiles and you joined him behind the counter, checking your inventory.

“Mel, we need to stock up soon” you remarked and he nodded.

“Yeah don´t worry about that!” he said.

Gilthunder visited you a bit after you arrived and sat down to talk with Meliodas.

Meanwhile you and Ban sneaked into the kitchen, cleaning up together.

Well, you were cleaning until Ban grinned at you and gently pushed you against the wall, a dreamy smile on his lips and his eyes full of adoration as he closed the distance between you and kissed you passionately.

His one hand gently cupping your cheek, tracing his fingers over your beautiful skin, his other placed on your waist to be even closer to you.

Heaven wasn´t a place, no. It was right here, right now in this moment. With you.

Your lips against his, this feeling of needing air but not wanting it, craving more and more of your touch.

This was truly heaven to him.

You eagerly kissed back and hooked your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss and just enjoying his presence.

If you could you would stay like this forever.

Ban still had the same look in his eyes as he broke the kiss, so focused on you, getting lost in this moment. Nothing else counted right now. It was like the outside world didn´t exist.

“Fuck, I really love you, you know that?” he whispered, his smile never leaving his lips.

Time stopped, your heart jumped out of your chest and stopped at the same time.

Those were the words you both dreaded and wished for at the same time.

And now that he uttered them, you didn´t know what to say.

“You don´t have to say it back right now, I just wanted you to know. Now was the right moment for me and I will wait for yours to come. And if it doesn´t that´s alright too. I would never pressure you into anything. You´re too precious to me” he said and it was in this moment that you knew, though something held you back.

You didn´t like it in the first place, this queasy feeling in your stomach.

Ban laid an arm around you as you two exited the kitchen, celebrating Elizabeth officially joining your party.

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[ayellowcurtain]

Could you write something of Isak dedicating himself to the priesthood for his homosexual feelings and of repentance, but he meets Even who works there gathering clothes and food for the needy and everything goes to hell?

Isak wasn’t really doing this for himself, or he was just needing some peace of mind. As long as his mom was happy and out of his ear with complaints, Isak thought he would feel a lot better already. He couldn’t take another month of his life with his mom constantly talking about religion, about Isak needing to move to a different school. So he said fuck it and accepted her offer. In a few years, he would turn 18 and he would then let himself do whatever he wants, even if that could disappoint his parents. At least he would have these few years to say that he did what they wanted and now was his time to do what he wanted.

He would have to live a life of lies for a few more years before he could let himself do whatever he wanted. It was a final count down and a final attempt to please his parent in exchange for an adulthood of freedom.

The place looks nice, a lot better than what Isak is used to. Even his tiny bedroom feels like a dream. No more hearing his parents fighting, no more mess (because he did try to pack only the necessary, knowing how bad at organizing and cleaning after himself he is). It sucks that he has to share a bathroom, but it’s only another yet small price to pay for some peace.

Isak is terrible at having a routine because that’s not at all what he’s used to. Most of the time when he was at home he had no compromise with time, he would do things as he wanted and when he wanted. 

So it takes a few weeks to adjust to waking up ridiculously early, having time to go eat and sleep and study, etc. But it’s good, especially the studying part. It turns out, Isak does enjoy studying when he has silence on his side. He can sit on his chair in front of his old, rusty table and open all his books at once and get his homework done. And maybe he’s smarter than what he thought he was.

With most of his homework done weeks before the deadline and all his hours of study already accomplished with two days of advantage, Isak lets himself wander around for the first time.

It’s a cloudy day, but not rainy. Still, most of the other students are somewhere else that’s not the common areas. Isak walks around, stops to look at the old pictures of past classes. There are also plaques everywhere with the history of the castle he knows lives and studies in.

The eating area is mostly empty, with small groups spread apart, talking, or snacking. The place is huge when empty and you can hear everything echoing.

It happens like a movie scene.

Isak is still taking it all in, the magnitude of this room when empty when he notices him.

A boy, looked a little older than him, and any student from where Isak was standing. Blonde hair, perfect posture, one of those smiles that make girls melt or something, like prince charming. His white shirt a little too perfectly fit against his lean and long figure, Isak is not sure how appropriate he’s dressing for the place he is. And he’s caring a huge basket filled with what it looks to be dirty clothes. The guy stops at the huge window that divides the kitchen and the eating lounge area. Everyone inside the kitchen seems to know him, giving excited greetings and the older lady - that every day serves Isak a little extra food - comes to the window, giving the guy a big bag also filled with what Isak assumes to be more dirty clothes.

He has to act if he wants any chance of talking to the guy and so he walks - tries not to run - and stops in the middle of the stranger’s path.

He’s noticed right away and Isak would like to dream there’s a spark that happens inside the eyes he can’t really define what colors they are. A green-ish blue, grey mixture. He’s soft but so intense.

Isak didn’t think things through, he just needed to see him up close. He’s definitely a human being, not an angel.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with his full of depth and interest voice and Isak is not so sure what he’s asking about. It feels like what are you doing here? I’ve been searching for you my whole existence and that makes Isak feel something he never felt before.

“Hm, shit, sorry.” He feels his neck and chest burning up because he just cursed and he’s sure anyone inside the kitchen heard him. But the boy doesn’t seem outraged, he raises his eyebrows and laughs softly and that sound makes Isak blush on his face too, “I don’t know where...I have some clothes to wash too.”

The boy smiles now, showing his every teeth and Isak is sure he’s staring, almost drooling. The stranger nods his head, gently biting his full bottom lip for half a second.

“Of course. You need help to get them or you think you can get them and bring them to me?” He asks so gently that Isak is not sure if he’s joking or not, but he can’t risk, so he just answers the question.

“My bedroom is so far away…”

“I can help you then, no problem.” The guy is so willing and nice, Isak never met someone like that. He realizes they never told each other their names and Isak feels ever dumber if that’s even possible.

“Sorry...you are...?” He frowns a little and tries not to look around them, some of the staff from the kitchen probably watching them and finding their interaction so weird. And there’s something about the boy in front of him that makes Isak want to look inside his eyes forever and not feel embarrassed to do so.

He puts the basket of dirty clothes under one arm and offers his now free hand to Isak.

“Even. The “do-it-all” around here.” Isak swallows hard, carefully shaking his hand.

“Isak.” That’s all he can say and Even nods his head again, seeming happy that they now have names.

“Nice to meet you, Isak.”

-

Isak is not a morning person. It feels like he didn’t sleep for a minute. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to understand what happened or if he was dreaming again about Even. His muscles feel raw and everything he feels it’s connected to a memory flashing through his eyes. Shit…

He moves to lie on his back and the left side of his hips hit something. Or someone. Sitting on his bed. Isak opens his eyes, praying he’ll meet kindness and understanding, not regret or anger.

Even is still there, sitting on his bed, shirtless. His hair is still all messy and Isak is almost completely sure it’s partially his fault. Even moves slowly, putting one arm over Isak’s middle, his hand sitting against the mattress on the other side of Isak.

He’s very aware of what they did and how fucked up it is to do it here, where he’s supposed to be studying to pretend to his parents he’ll become a priest someday. Even is not angry, at least Isak finds the same kindness and interest that made him go for it last night, kissing Even in the mouth as his life depended on it. But there’s some hint of remorse or disappointment.

“Isak…”

“You don’t have to tell me that it’s bad. I’m aware. I really don’t want a lecture from you.” Isak should focus on this conversation, but his eyes wander down as new memory come back to him. Even has abs just like Isak remembers. He tasted them…

On his knees.

Fucking shit.

Even moves carefully again, leaning closer, nuzzling against Isak’s neck, asking for some space and Isak gives it to him, putting his arms around Even’s neck, holding him tight. Even’s body is still so warm and inviting, Isak doesn’t want to let him go, to discover what Even wants to do now that they finally had sex.

After months of the weird friendship, after countless times of sneaking Even inside his room just to talk for hours. Of having to push Even under his bed so the nun wouldn’t see that he was inside a student’s bedroom late at night.

“I’m in love with you. You can’t stay here.”

Isak said these words so many times inside his head to his imaginary Even that when he hears the words coming out from the real one it doesn’t even surprise him that much. But Isak feels this sudden need to cry. Not of sadness, but of relief, in a weird way.

That’s all he wanted since the day he met Even. For them to fall in love, for Even’s words to really mean what he thought they did.

What are you doing here? I’ve been searching for you my whole existence.

[storiesofthesahabah]

It is not too late nor is it too early. Many of you may have reached the age where you feel embarassed enrolling in a madrasah where your classmates would be way younger than you - I’m telling you, there is no shyness when in comes to learning the deen - so, enroll and start now. While many parents tend to delay the islamic studies of their children saying they are too young - I’m telling you, we do not know until when we are going to live in this world - so, let them start now.

I’m telling you, for as long as you have a heart that is beating and is racing to repent to Allah, Allah will assist you and will be with you every step of the way. Truly, when it comes to the concept of seeking knowledge in Islam - we hear a lot of beautiful stories and advices from senior scholars of Islam that amazingly talks to us. However, what I am about to share with you today - isn’t an advice rather a story that would make you think, ponder and reflect as how you are doing in this specific course (seeking knowledge) of your life and how we treat those who are starting or restarting their lives by returning to the path of Islam. _____ When ‘Umar Ibn Al Khattab Radiyallahu Anhu became the Amir ul Mu’mineen - he used to convene gatherings with the Muslim elders (the eminent Sahabah).- as most would call it - shura. However, these gatherings were completely exclusive. Exclusive in such a way that only those who were invited had the right to attend. One day, ‘Umar RA called for a gathering of such - when everyone were seated and were about to start one little boy came in. He was ‘Abdullah Ibn Abbas, the son of ‘Al Abbas (the uncle of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ).  At first, they thought to themselves ‘Abdullah was ‘Abdullah (meaning he came from the family of the Prophet) but then again they thought they also had children who were just as same age as ‘Abdullah but never were they invited to come and attend the elite gathering - so this struck some of them as being unfair. So they went and complained to ‘Umar RA and he did acknowledge their complaint and said “he is among those that you know about” (i.e those that you know are people of distinction and honor and knowledge). However, to fully answer their question - several days later ‘Umar again called for a gathering again with the same attendees with ‘Abdullah RA being present once again.

When the meeting commenced, ‘Umar RA opened it with a question directed to everyone “What do you have to say about the following (verses)?” He RA then proceeded to recite portion of Surah An Nasr - Chapter 110. ”When there comes the Help of Allah (to you, O Muhammad ﷺ against your enemies) and the conquest (of Makkah), and you see the people enter Allah’s Religion (Islam) in crowds.]” Some of them replied with “I do not know” while others did not give any reply. Remember that these were the eminent Sahabah - so you know it is a very difficult question if they were not able to answer it. So, ‘Umar RA gave everyone a chance to answer it - one after another and made the youngest of the group, ‘Abdullah RA, the last to respond.  ‘Umar RA said: “O son of Al Abbas, is that what you say also? (meaning do you also have nothing to say in reply to my question?)  ’Abdullah RA replied: “No.” ‘Umar RA asked, “Then what do you say of these verses?” ’Abdullah RA replied: “Through these verses, Allah Azza Wa Jall was informing the Prophet ﷺ about the nearness of his death. When Allah Azza Wa Jall said, “When there comes the help of Allah (to you, O Muhammad ﷺ against your enemies) and the conquest (of Makkah), and you see the people enter Allah’s Religion (Islam) in crowds,” it was as if Allah Azza Wa Jall was saying the following to the Prophet ﷺ: “When Allah’s help comes to you in the form of the conquest of Makkah, then that is a sign of your imminent death…”  ’Umar RA then said to ‘Abdullah RA, “What I know regarding this [chapter] is not any different than what you know regarding it (regarding its correct interpretation). ______ Subhan’Allah, did you see what ‘Umar RA did here. Indeed, this was how ‘Umar RA was - he was known more of answering questions by giving or supporting them with an example or practically answering them rather than by mere words. So yes, ‘Umar RA showcased that ‘Abdullah Ibn Abbas despite his young age was more knowledgeable than many of the eminent Sahabah let alone their children who were of his age. ‘Abdullah was only 13 years old when the Prophet ﷺ died yet this didn’t stop him from seeking knowledge by being in the company of the knowledgeable. ______ So why this topic- because I want to address an issue that many have shunned but is abruptly growing within our communities - the treatment new muslims get. Come to think of it, ‘Abdullah RA was young and new to the group and so everyone questioned his presence - isn’t he like the new muslims of nowadays? Today, when a person becomes a new muslim - rather than being purely happy for them, people tend to doubt their reasons why they accepted Islam. A sister who have been in dawah for years shared one beautiful statement with me, she said: “Whatever the reason a person has in accepting Islam, it is between him or her and Allah - but also know that Allah has accepted that and has guided him or her to Islam. So we have no right to judge it rather we welcome them with open arms and help them with anything we can.” But also, it’s not always the new Muslims even born Muslims go through this especially within their own families. When a born Muslim starts to practice and strive to become a better muslim - family members tend to mock them and think that they are very strict and have changed a lot and so they question them by throwing their past actions unto them. My dear brothers and sisters in Islam, whether you are a new Muslim or a born Muslim - seeking knowledge has been made obligatory for you - and this is not to harm you rather this is to help you and enable you to practice your religion in properly. Indeed, it is true that knowledge is powerful as it impacts our lives. If you are beyond your college years and just started to seek knowledge - push through, if you are young and is just about to learn - go ahead, you have us to support you. There is no age in seeking knowledge rather we all have to avoid committing sins as sins shutters away knowledge in staying in our hearts and minds. So if ever you find something difficult to understand, make istighfar. ______ May Allah make us amongst those people who seek knowledge purely for our own betterment as well as for His Sake so we may properly practice Islam in our lives.

Amin. Zohayma ______ Story was taken from: • Al Aqidah Fi Ahlul Bayt Bainal Ifrat Wattifrit. 324-325 • Sahih Bukhari, Hadith 4294

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Epilogue

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Warnings: this is over 10,000 words, so get some snacks and a hot cup of chocolate!

Click Here For Masterlist 

Five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘Bekah, really this is completely unnecessary.’ I tried to reason with her, but I wasn’t surprised when my protests seemed to fall on deaf ears.

 ‘It may not be necessary but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.’ She winked, turning back to the owner of the cute little clothes store we’d found in the centre of the city. She was compelling her to let us have free run of the store, seeing as clothes were limited and she didn’t want to lose out on the perfect outfit to someone else.

 While she did that, I wondered around, absentmindedly looking at the different clothes she had to offer. I had to hand it to her, everything was beautiful and all one of a kind, seeing as she made the clothes herself and only ever made ten of everything. Once they sold, that was it.

‘Find anything?’ I asked Elena when I reached her.

 ‘Oh my--,’ she cut off with a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

 ‘Sorry.’ I grinned, amused that after so many years of me being a vampire I could still startle her.

 She shot me a look, clearly not believing my apology but she waved me off anyway.

 ‘You know, I’m surprised I can still startle you with your newfound heightened senses.’ I teased.

 Elena had become a vampire a few years ago, after she had turned twenty. She had given it a lot of thought beforehand, and was content with her decision when she asked Stefan to turn her so that she could spend an eternity by his side. The younger Salvatore had been hesitant, but after my sister assured him that she had done nothing but think about it since she met him, he followed through with her request.

 ‘Well I was too busy wondering if this top would look cute on me.’ She protested, holding up a white and baby pink lace crop top.

 ‘It would not.’ Bekah interjected, sliding up next to me and holding out a similar style crop top but in red, ‘this colour suits your skin tone better.’

 ‘Thank you, Bekah.’ Elena smiled gratefully and put the reject back on the rack before adding the new addition to her basket.

 I smirked in amusement when I realised that Elena had already gathered enough to fill half her basket, while Bekah had enough to warrant moving onto a third while I had nothing.

 Bekah seemed to notice that too, ‘why haven’t you got anything in your basket yet? We only have another hour until we need to be back for dinner and the barbecue is tomorrow!’

 ‘I know,’ I sighed, running a hand through my hair, ‘I’ve never been good at picking out clothes for myself Bekah. I hate shopping.’

 Elena and Bekah gasped dramatically, as if this was news to them, which of course it wasn’t. I rolled my eyes at their dramatics, but a small smile still found its way to my lips.

 ‘Well that’s easy enough. I’ll pick something for you.’ Bekah smiled, already wondering off to the back wall—I imagined she already had something in mind.

 A few years ago, I would’ve tried to stop her, but I knew that she would only pick something that would compliment my figure and my personal tastes. She had a gift when it came to styling people, in any other time she could’ve been an amazing personal shopper. But then again, owning her own clothing line seemed more Bekah’s style.

 ‘So when are Stefan and Damon getting in?’ I asked, following Elena around while she browsed through the other options.

 ‘Tonight after dinner, which sucks but we can all probably watch a movie together.’ Elena replied, the excitement at the prospect of seeing her love leaking into her voice.

 ‘True, though it is Kol’s turn to pick this month. Probably means we’re gonna be stuck watching some gory horror movie.’ I rolled my eyes fondly—the younger Mikaelson loved watching scary movies to mock and point holes in the stories.

 ‘Better than Elijah’s documentary obsession.’ Elena joked. She wasn’t wrong, though. Elijah was fascinated with watching documentaries on anything—the last time it had been his pick, we sat through a two hour movie on how cans were made.

 ‘No arguments here.’ Bekah laughed, adding an armful of clothes to my basket.

 I knew there was more than one outfit choice there, but I also knew better than to argue—she liked to add options for me to choose from, plus anything I didn’t want to wear tomorrow I could just wear some other time.

 ‘Thanks, Bekah.’ I smiled offering her a side hug, ‘you’re a godsend.’

 Bekah snorted, commenting on the fact that no one had ever called her that in a thousand years. She offered me a kind smile though and I knew she was grateful for the compliment.

 ‘Well if everyone’s finished, I’m craving something sweet.’ Elena mused.

 ‘I know just the place.’ Bekah smirked; I could already feel my mouth watering at the prospect of pastries.

 //

 ‘So, how’s being newly married?’ Bekah asked my sister just as I’d taken a huge bit of one of the beignets from the centre of the table.

 My eyes closed in pleasure and I couldn’t help the small moan that formed at the back of my throat from the taste. Heaven.

 ‘Great.’ Elena’s expression visibly lit up, as it always did when she spoke of her relationship with the younger Salvatore, ‘we’re actually thinking about moving to New Orleans permanently. Stefan wants to talk to you guys about it first, just to make sure it’s alright, but hopefully there won’t be an issue. I’m ready to move on from Mystic Falls, and I want to be closer to my second family, seeing as the only ones really left back home are me, Stefan, Damon and Bonnie.’

 It was true; Jeremy and a few of his friends from school had decided to travel the world before committing to a college, and Jenna had moved back to Denver after Jeremy had graduated. The old house was currently being rented out by Jenna being as none of us had the heart to put it up for sale.

 ‘I don’t think that will be a problem, Elena you’re family.’ I assured her with a smile, honestly the thought of her moving to the city filled me with joy, ‘the Mikaelson’s love you like a sister, and Stefan and Nik have the biggest bromance going on, there should be zero issues.’

 ‘She’s right, Lena.’ Bekah assured her, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement—I imagined mine looked the same. The prospect of us all living in the same city all the time was just too wonderful to comprehend. Usually we had to made do with one weekend a month—that was the mandatory minimum for the whole family to meet up, no matter where they were in the world they had to be back for family weekend. Though to be fair, Elena, Stefan and Damon were the only ones who didn’t live in the city permanently, so that rule only really applied to them.

 ‘Do you think Bonnie will come to the barbecue?’ I wondered, sipping my caramel latte as I waited for an answer.

 Bonnie was a somewhat touchy subject for the group. When I’d gathered the courage and will to go back to Mystic Falls to tell my family the truth about what had happened, Bonnie and Katherine were the only two who had an issue. Bonnie because she believed I’d defied the balance of nature by helping break a curse that had been in place for so long, and Katherine because she’d lost five hundred years bound to paranoia and fear.

 It had taken some time, but eventually Bonnie realised that if the curse shouldn’t have been broken, the means to break it wouldn’t have existed. Katherine was more stubborn and even attempted to gather enough firepower from witches, vampires and werewolves to take Klaus and Elijah down. Of course, when they found out whom she wanted them to go up against they immediately backed out, a few even coming to New Orleans to warn the Mikaelsons of the potential threat—they didn’t want to go up against the strongest supernatural army in the world. Which was of course what the Mikaelson’s had built in New Orleans. It was the place that any species could come and live with different supernatural creatures in harmony. They did such a good job ruling it, fairly and with a genuine care for each and every person, that the loyalty they earned from each member of the city was unwavering. That was something Katherine hadn’t realised, until it was too late.

 Klaus and Elijah had sent a few werewolves and vampires for her to “recruit.” Of course, it had been a ploy to lure her to New Orleans and once they had her, they gave her three options:

-       Give up her ploy for revenge and start living her immortal life without a thirst for repentance

-       Let herself be compelled to once again forget why she wanted vengeance

-       Or die.

Her rage had inevitably made the decision for her. After she had been given her options, I had returned to the compound after meeting Cami for a drink at Rousseau’s. My appearance reminded her of her hatred and she’d attempted to attack me immediately, before she could however Elijah had removed her heart while Klaus had flashed to my side, prepared to aid me should I need it. We had both stared at the elder Mikaelson in shock, but he simply dropped her heart and ordered for her body to be burned to ash.

 I still remembered the conversation I’d had with him that night.

 A few months after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 I took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to knock on his door, but I found myself shuffling from foot to foot. I was just about to bolt and return to bed with Nik when the door opened of its own accord.

 ‘Evangeline, is there something I can help you with?’ Elijah’s calm voice tampered a little of my anxiety, as did the absence of anger or sorrow in his eyes. But I didn’t let that fool me completely—I knew just as well as anyone that he was the best at withholding emotions from those closest to him.

 ‘I- I just wanted to apologise.’ I said, clearing my throat as my voice broke.

 ‘Whatever for?’ he gestured for me to enter his bedroom and I took a seat on one of the armchairs he had opposite his bed. Elijah himself perched himself on the foot of his bed, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows as he awaited my response.

 ‘For Katherine. I know you cared for her once, and it’s my fault that nothing happened with her.’ I murmured, suddenly finding myself enamoured with the sleeves of the Henley that I was wearing that happened to belong to my hybrid.

 ‘If I ever cared for Katarina, it was because she reminded me of another life.’ Elijah said, the softness of his voice caused me to look up to him, ‘she reminded me of a time where my biggest worry was competing with my brother to win the affections of a woman who looked a lot like her.’

 ‘Tatia.’ I said, familiar with the story.

 ‘Indeed. When we were human my biggest concerns were trying to win Tatia’s hand in marriage, and protecting my siblings from our brute of a father. Katarina reminded me of that, and as a result caused me to yearn for that simplicity.’

 I nodded, somewhat understanding.

 ‘Of course, that changed when I realised that Niklaus was finding his humanity, due to a mysterious girl from the future.’ Elijah smiled knowingly at me, and I couldn’t help but look down, grateful that I couldn’t blush, ‘you see Evangeline, your appearance in our lives made me yearn for my life in the present. It made me yearn for a time that we could all sit down together as a family and be happy. Happier than we ever were when we lived in that small village in Mystic Falls over a thousand years ago. For the first time in a long time, I was excited by what the future would bring, rather than being consumed with dread over the prospect of witnessing my family commit heinous acts before my very eyes. You saved this family. And for Katarina to come along and try to inadvertently tear that apart, well you know by now… no one hurts my family and lives. And you, Evangeline are just as much a part of this family as I am.’

 I knew that my cheeks were wet with tears but I didn’t care. In a flash I was hugging Elijah and unconsciously soaking his shirt with tears. He hugged me back and I found myself grateful and lucky to have been accepted into the Mikaelson family.

 ‘Thank you, Elijah.’ I murmured against his chest.

 ‘Always and forever, sister.’ He murmured back, placing a chaste kiss to the top of my head.

 Back to five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 That had been a few months after I returned from the past, and Elijah and I had only grown closer. He was like the big brother I had always wanted, and being accepted into the fold meant that I was also gifted with the huge family I’d always yearned for. I was immensely grateful, being as I’d given up on the idea of a big family when I’d been turned into a vampire. I was lucky, and a day didn’t go by where I wasn’t reminded of that.

 ‘No. She’s accepted everything and I know she understands, but she doesn’t want to be a part of it.’ Elena said, her bright expression dimming considerably at the reminder of her absent ex-best friend.

 ‘I’m sorry sweetie.’ I murmured, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

 ‘It’s okay. It’s her life to live, and she doesn’t want to live it immersed in the supernatural world like we do. That’s her choice and she’s well within her rights to make it.’ Elena murmured, her eyes conveying the sincerity behind her words.

 It sucked, of course it did, but Elena was right. Bonnie was living her life like she wanted to—without vampires, hybrids and werewolves. Elena and I still loved her, but we knew it was just a part of life; some people are only meant to be in your life for a certain amount of time before you drift apart and they leave you with the memories you created together.

 //

 ‘Aren’t you ever going to tire of painting me?’ I murmured, partially amused and fond from where I leaned against the doorframe.

 After lunch with my sisters, I’d returned to the compound and after placing my newly acquired clothes into our room, I went to find him. Where I found him wasn’t a surprise; he was in his art studio painting yet another portrait of me. My heart fluttered every time I saw him taking the time to put me onto another canvas; I’d been so overcome with love when he’d shown me the ones he’d painted in my absence that I’d been reduced to a puddle of tears. Nik still had yet to let me hear the end of that.

 ‘How could one ever tire of capturing such beauty?’ he grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration as he turned to face me. In a flash I was at his side, my arm wound around his waist as I placed a chaste yet passionate kiss to his lips.

 ‘How was your day?’ he asked, pulling me against his chest and winding his arms around my waist.

 ‘Fine. Bekah picked out some clothes for me to wear tomorrow.’ I told him, my hands resting against his chest and my head against his shoulder.

 He chuckled, ‘I don’t know why you go; you hate shopping.’

 I hummed in agreement before adding, ‘but I love spending time with my sisters.’

 ‘Forgive me, I find it hard to imagine why anyone would enjoy Bekah’s company.’ He deadpanned, but broke out into a laugh when I lightly slapped his shoulder in reprimand.

 ‘Elena mentioned that her and Stefan were thinking of moving here.’ I grinned, my hands moving to his shoulders as I leaned back to meet his gaze.

 ‘Is that so?’ he said, his hands falling to my hips as a smile formed on his at the sight of my happiness.

 I nodded, ‘she mentioned Stefan wanted to run it by you all first, but it you’re okay with it then they’re gonna come.’

 ‘Why would we have a problem?’ he mused, his eyes dancing with mirth.

 ‘I think it’s Stefan’s idea to be honest. Just to make sure they’re not stepping on any toes.’ I shrugged, not really understanding the need for permission myself.

 ‘Well I’d never deny them residence here and I doubt anyone else would either, lest they incur your wrath.’ He teased, grinning when I playfully glared at him.

 ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I said innocently.

 It was true, of course. Over my time with the Mikaelson’s I’d gained a reputation. My temper was known to rival Nik’s when someone threatened or hurt my family. I’d always been protective, and that instinct had only become heightened when I’d become a vampire. And now I had a family that ruled New Orleans, we were bound to attract trouble, which led to my protective instincts rearing their head more often than I was used to. The Mikaelson’s, Nik especially, thought my ability to go from calm to a force that the devil himself would be intimidated by was hilarious. But I couldn’t help it. And I was happy to have found a family that understood and even rivalled my over protective tendencies. I thought back to the first time we’d incurred a threat after Katherine.

 A year after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 I woke up to the sun shining on my face, which wasn’t unusual seeing as Nik and I had a habit of forgetting to close the drapes. I smiled when I felt his arms still wrapped around me, his warmth seeping through the shirt of his I was wearing. I rolled over to face him and was unsurprised to see his eyes already open; it was rare that I awoke before him, but even though he woke before me most days, he preferred to stay and hold me until I woke up before he even thought of getting out of bed. I’d asked him about it before and he’d admitted to taking the time to bask in the gratitude he felt for finally being able to wake up with me in his arms. I’d held him tight after that.

 ‘Good morning my love.’ His voice was husky with sleep, and I couldn’t help the small shiver of desire that shot down my spine.

 ‘Good morning my hybrid.’ I murmured back, placing a kiss to his cheek, a wave of adoration washing over me at his bashful smile that always followed me calling him that.

 That became my nickname for him not long after I found him again and he was able to finally reveal that he had broken his curse. At first, the reception had varied from fear to acceptance. Unfortunately the latter opinion was rare; Elena and everyone from back home had accepted it fairly quickly, though I assumed that Elena not needing to die for the curse to be broken was the main reason for that. It took a while for the factions of New Orleans to realise that Klaus being part werewolf as well as vampire made no difference to who he was as a ruler. When they did, the criticism, fear and disgust had dissipated. Though Nik liked to joke that my attitude towards those who criticised him was the main reason for that. I’d started calling him “My Hybrid” because I wanted him to know he had no reason to be ashamed of who he was, and to remind him that I loved every single part of him.

 ‘Do we have any plans today?’ I wondered, nuzzling into his neck, his scent keeping me in a state of contentedness. My eyes were starting to flutter shut again, and I found myself not wanting to fight it.

 ‘Actually, Sophie has contacted Elijah and informed us of a potential threat coming to New Orleans.’ Nik murmured, his lips against my hair.

 ‘Hmmm.’ I said, not really processing his words and placing a kiss onto the side of his neck.

 He chuckled kissing my hair and pulling me tighter against him, ‘I should tell you of all potential threats after you’ve just woken up my love.’

 ‘Hmmm.’ I sighed as his hand starting to move back and forth across my lower back.

 I thought I heard him chuckle again and it made me smile as I fell into unconsciousness.

 //

 Kol and Bekah were doubled over in laughter where we were gathered in the courtyard of the compound. Klaus was laughing a lot less rambunctiously, while Elijah was a lot more reserved, though his amusement was still obvious on his expression.

 ‘I don’t bloody believe this.’ I muttered, shaking my head in exasperation, ‘are you having me on?’

 ‘No my love, we’re not.’ Nik’s dimpled smile eased my embarrassment a little, ‘I told you of the threat three days ago after you woke up. You must have still been half asleep.’

 ‘That’s cheating!’ I complained, slapping his shoulder, ‘you should’ve told me again when I was actually awake.’

 ‘Technically you were conscious.’ Kol pointed out, seeming to have recovered enough to add a comment.

 ‘Obviously not enough.’ I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair, ‘now tell me about this threat.’

 ‘The De Martials are on their way to New Orleans.’ Elijah said solemnly and I nodded, familiar with the story.

 The elder Mikaelson had informed Niklaus over what he had done a few centuries after I’d returned to the future, and Nik had told me a few months ago. Nik had definitely been furious but his rage had subsided when he realised why his elder brother had done what he’d done. It had been around that time that Nik had told his siblings the truth about what happened to their mother. The reactions to that news had varied. Kol hadn’t had much of one, Elijah had already known but Bekah had taken it the hardest. But after some time, she came to forgive him.

 ‘So they want revenge for the time they spent pretending to be you and leading Mikael astray.’ I summarised, the wheels in my head turning.

 ‘I’d imagine so.’ Bekah mused, coming to sit by me on the sofa and stretching her legs out over my lap. Kol came to sit on the other side of me and rolled his eyes at the intrusion of Bekah’s legs on his lap as well, but he didn’t protest.

 ‘Do you think Aurora might have other motivations?’ I asked, internally wincing at the insecurity in my voice.

 ‘If that psychotic bitch comes anywhere near you darling, I can assure you she will be torn limb from limb.’ Kol patted my shoulder for reassurance.

 ‘That’s not what I’m worried about.’ I rolled my eyes and then frowned, ‘why would she be interested in me? I doubt she even knows who I am.’

 ‘Over the years you were not with us, we were subtle and discrete over your existence, but evidently rumours did get out about you.’ Elijah explained, smiling at my wide eyes, ‘your name along with your importance to this family made you somewhat of a legend. Though, no one knew why, or even knew of anyone by the name of Evangeline, so it’s often been dismissed as a rumour.’

 ‘Until now.’ Nik murmured, his eyes on me and shining with concern.

 ‘And Aurora always was the jealous type.’ Bekah sneered.

 ‘I don’t care about me.’ I muttered; my only concern was with my family, ‘you’re basically invincible. If they’re coming for revenge now after all this time, that must mean they have a plan, one that they’re confident will work.’

 ‘We’ve faced many people over our thousand years, all of which intended to end us all, and yet we’re still here.’ Elijah murmured, smiling in assurance, ‘I assure you, this time will be no different.’

 I wished I had his confidence, but I had a bad feeling about this and Nik must have sensed it because he held his hand out to me from where he was sat on the armchair. I shifted Bekah’s legs off me and moved to sit on his lap. His scent soothed my nerves like a balm—I’d always be grateful for how safe Nik’s arms made me feel. Especially in that moment because the absence of anxiety allowed me to think clearly and I had a plan.

 //

 Nik: They’re here. Aurora left a body surrounded by lavender and a scavenger hunt for me to follow.

 Kol: Tristan has made himself known; he’s already got the strix out looking for vampires descended from Elijah.

 Elijah: The witches are preforming the spell now.

 Me: Lucien has just walked into Rousseau’s.

 Bekah: This is an insane plan; I just want that on the record.

 Nik: Now is not the time. Focus.

 Me: If anything bad happens, I just want you to know I love you all.

 I slid my phone into the back pocket of my high-waisted jeans, subtly watching Lucien from where I sat at the bar, while Bekah was blending in with the crowd thanks to a glamour spell a witch had placed on her. My hair was down and wavy, cutting off at the bottom of my spine and offering me some comfort as it covered up the most of my back. The crop top had been Bekah’s idea, it was white, lacy and entirely too revealing but I was looking to gain the attention of Lucien.

 A small smile formed on my lips as I noticed a family of tourists sitting by the window, a mother and father sat across from their twin daughters. They were all laughing and talking, enjoying their meal together. I felt a small wave of homesickness wash over me in that moment. I hadn’t seen my family in almost a year—not since I’d told them the truth about everything. We were still in touch, but I hadn’t seen them in the flesh for ten months, and I realised in that moment that I missed them. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, as I was already surrounded by family, but I found myself wondering if Elena, Jeremy and Jenna would be up for a weekend visit. Though it would be difficult to organise now; Elena was coming up to the end of senior year, Jeremy near the end of Junior, and Jenna was in the middle of writing her thesis. Though I’d heard from Elena that she was thinking of moving back to Denver after Jeremy was done with school. As the youngest Gilbert had already mentioned his desire to travel after he graduated, and with Elena potentially going to collage, Jenna would be in Mystic Falls all by herself. It wouldn’t be the same not having Jenna back home, but I understood her desire to move away being as the life she had before our parents died was in Denver.

 ‘Hello there darling.’ An arrogant sounding voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked to my right to see just the man I was looking for, now occupying the empty seat beside me.

 ‘Hello.’ I forced a smile and hoped the disgust didn’t show on my face. He was sitting far too close and his scent was overwhelming me. He smelled like he’d bathed in cologne and whiskey, it was so bad that I had to make due with breathing through my mouth. A pang of longing to be encased in my Hybrid’s scent overwhelmed me, but I forced myself to focus.

 ‘Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’ He smirked, his breath fanning over my face. If I were still capable of vomiting, I would have in that moment.

 ‘You’ll have to be more specific. In this bar or in this city?’ I was being evasive, but I couldn’t help it.

 ‘This city, of course.’ He said, taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

 ‘I like it here.’ I shrugged, downing the shot of tequila Cami placed in front of me. Apparently seeming uninterested was a sure way to garner his attention, which was exactly what was needed. I leaned forward over the bar to grab the bottle of liquor that Cami had purposefully left within reach.

 ‘I’m starting to as well’ I rolled my eyes when I realised he was checking out my ass and when I fell back into my seat his eyes trailed over my chest. I fought the urge to cross my arms to try and cover up as I poured myself another shot.

 ‘How would you feel about coming back to my place later?’ he asked, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. I assume he mistook my shiver of disgust as pleasure, because his hand moved to my back, trailing up and down my spine and lightly tugging my hair.

 Quick as a flash I held his wrist in mine, before he could react I snapped it like a twig, ‘I think I’d rather set myself on fire.’

 ‘You’re feisty I like that.’ He bit out as he reset his wrist with a click.

 ‘I’m leaving now.’ I huffed placing a hundred on the bar to cover my drinks and tip.

 I shot Bekah a reassuring look before I left. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was following me; his pungent scent assured me he was.

 It shouldn’t have been so simple, but it was. I led him into a trap; witches bought him to his knees while I turned and snapped his neck. After that, he was trapped in a basement with chains and boundary spells, where he would be bled out until the vervain was out of his system. Which shouldn’t take long for how fast the selected vampires were working on him. One down. Two to go.

 //

 ‘Nik?’ I called out as I entered the compound—he should have been back by now and I’ll admit the fact he wasn’t had me feeling both worried and insecure.

 I was about to call him when the scent hit my nose—blood. Most importantly Nik’s blood. I followed it to his art studio—he was in the centre of the room a circle of salt hinting at the boundary spell that was around him. He was shirtless and the dried blood on his torso hinted at how much he had lost. Despite the overwhelming urge to go to him, I forced myself to focus, someone had obviously done this to him, but where were they? I didn’t have to look far. She had her back to me, which hinted at her arrogance—she clearly didn’t perceive me to be a threat. She was staring at one of the portraits Nik had painted of me and hung along the back wall. Her fingers were pressed against the canvas gently at first, and in the blink of an eye her fingers tore through with such force she created a hole in the brickwork. That was when she turned to face me. Her eyes is what stood out to me at first, they were a striking green, seeming to shine brighter due to the red curly hair that draped around her shoulders and down her back. She was dressed in a short and low cut black dress; clearly she’d been intending to impress my Hybrid.

 ‘Aurora I presume.’ I said, unable to keep the venom from my voice.

 ‘You’ve heard of me?’ she seemed to preen with the knowledge.

 ‘Yes, when Nik was recounting his psychotic exes you were the first name out of his mouth.’ I smiled, inwardly cheering when her expression transformed into fury.

 ‘I cannot understand what he possibly sees in you.’ She sneered, walking around me like a shark circling its prey.

 ‘That makes two of us,’ I shrugged.

 ‘I’ll admit I’m disappointed. I expected more fire.’ She said, coming to stand in front of me again, and that was when she revealed a stake, ‘white oak seems a waste on you, but it’ll kill you just the same and to be honest, I rather enjoy the poetry of Nik waking up to see you dead beside him. The pathetic abomination will be so overcome with grief that he’ll be powerless to falling into my awaiting arms. As soon as that happens, I’ll be able to easily convince him to dagger his other pathetic siblings and we’ll live happily ever after as King and Queen of New Orleans.’

 My eyes flashed and before she could comprehend it, the stake clattered to the floor as the snap her wrist made when I twisted it behind her back echoed throughout the room.

 ‘How dare you.’ I growled, unbelievably enraged, picking the stake myself and plunging it into her stomach. She fell to her knees with a cry of pain, her hands moving to the wound when I yanked the wood out.

 ‘How dare you come into this city and threaten my family. How dare you call my Hybrid an abomination? The way I see it, the only abominable creature in this room is you, you psychotic, ignorant, pretentious bitch.’ I snarled, too far-gone in my fury to notice my Hybrid stirring behind me.

 ‘This isn’t your family.’ She protested, albeit a little weekly as I drove the stake through her chest, a mere inch from her heart.

 ‘Yes it is. I love each and every one of the Mikaelson’s, and I’d be damned if I let you threaten one of them, but all of them, including the man I love more than anything? Well you just signed your death certificate.’ With that, my hand punctured her chest cavity, clenching around her heart and tearing it out. I watched with relief and satisfaction as her corpse turned grey, before dropping the organ to the ground.

 I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to send a text to the group chat; pleased to see everyone else had achieved their goals without a hitch.

 Me: Need a witch back at the compound. Aurora has Nik trapped with a boundary spell.

 Elijah: Will bring Sophie now.

 Me: Thanks, Lijah. Glad everyone else is okay.

 Elijah had been with the witches to lure those of his sire line and trap them. Those who already resided in the quarter had been given a remedy that granted them immunity while the spell was being cast. When the strix arrived they would be given the chance to leave Tristan’s leadership or risk death. Tristan himself was trapped much like Lucien in a separate space secured with chains and witchcraft, which is where he would remain until the vervain had been drained and his plan had been compelled out of him. Either way, after that was discovered they would both be dead. The same had been planned for Aurora… before I’d gone AWOL.

 ‘Evangeline.’ I jumped a mile at the sound of his voice, having not heard him come around. When I faced him I was surprised by the intense expression on his face.

 ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, my fingers pressing against the boundary in vein as I tried to reach him.

 ‘I’m fine. A little hungry, but otherwise I’ll live. I managed to secure the location of the white oak from her mind before she incapacitated me.’ He smiled softly, ‘I already sent the location to Kol, I’m sure he’s taken care of it by now.’

 ‘Then why do you look so… astounded?’ I wondered.

 ‘Because watching you defend our family, and defend me has got to have been one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.’ He told me honestly.

 I blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh, him joining me. Though I knew he was being sincere due to the lust in his eyes, which seemed to grow as his eyes roamed over my outfit.

 ‘I’ll take it your part of the plan was successful?’ he wondered.

 ‘Yes, though I feel like I need to scrub every inch of my body. Lucien is a pig.’ I informed him honestly. There were no secrets between us.

 ‘What did he do?’ Nik growled, his eyes flashing protectively.

 ‘He touched my arm and back, pulled on my hair and leaned way too close. Not terrible when you say it aloud but he made me feel really uncomfortable. But it doesn’t matter now.’ I waved it off, ‘once he’s had the vervain drained from his system and whatever plan they had in place is revealed he’s dead. At the rate they were draining him, I can’t imagine it would take long.’

 This seemed to soothe him somewhat, but I could see him itching to hold me, his wolf needing to make sure I was indeed okay. Thankfully in that moment, Elijah walked through the door, Sophie following closely behind him. The elder Mikaelson raised a brow at the dead De Martial on the floor in confusion, looking over and pursing his lips in amusement when I hid my bloodied hand and the stake behind my back.

 ‘I don’t remember killing her being a part of the plan,’ Elijah commented as Sophie got to work.

 ‘I know. My temper might have gotten the best of me.’ I winced like a child about to be reprimanded by their parents.

 ‘She defended us brother. Aurora intended to kill her and use my grief to manipulate me to dagger you all and allow her to rule beside me.’ Nik explained, amused by my timid behaviour.

 ‘I couldn’t help it. I’m protective of my family, and of Nik, she threatened all of that.’ I pursed my lips, glancing down to her body, ‘she was one crazy bitch.’

 Nik laughed loudly and the sound bought a smile to my lips, relieved that at least he wasn’t pissed at me for messing with the plan. A glance at Elijah and the amusement on his expression assured me he wasn’t all that mad either. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

 ‘She had white oak though,’ I revealed the stake and handed it to the older Original, ‘Nik sent Kol to collect the rest.’

 Elijah nodded, some tension easing from his expression. In that moment Kol entered the room, grinning so widely I was surprised when his face didn’t split in half.

 ‘The white oak is gone. Apparently they gathered it from the wood made to construct a bridge and sign in Mystic Falls. Ironic, but alas I has all burned to ash.’ He said, practically bouncing with happiness at his success.

 ‘Excellent. Well done brother.’ Nik said, his expression conveying the sincerity behind his words. Kol’s expression softened under Nik’s praise and I couldn’t help but smile at the strong bonds they all now shared—My Hybrid had told me of Kol’s feeling of being left out of the family and so moments like this reminded me of how much they’d all overcome.

 Kol nodded, a soft smile aimed at his older brother before he accepted a hug from Elijah and then me. When I pulled away, he frowned at the dried blood on my hand and forearm.

 ‘Don’t ask.’ I said before he could inquire.

 Kol looked over to Nik who grinned and nodded in answer to his silent question: he would tell him later.

 ‘It’s all done.’ Sophie announced, but before she could even get up from the floor I found myself surrounded by Nik’s warmth and his scent.

 All of the tension eased of my body, and I felt Nik relax too as his face nuzzled into my neck and took in my scent, now assured that I was in fact okay.

 ‘You two are too cute.’ Bekah commented, I noted that she had her own voice back, which meant the glamour had been removed, but I didn’t lift my head to look.

 I hummed in contentment as Nik’s hand moved back and forth at the bottom of my spine, while his other hand rested at the centre of my back, his thumb moving back and forth comfortingly. The warmth his arms and hands emitted would never fail to make me feel safe and home. One of my hands were moving through the curls on his head, while the other rested against his chest, playing with the collection of necklaces that laid there. I was so contented and relaxed that I almost forgot where we were and what had happened when—

 ‘Why is Aurora dead?’ Bekah asked.

 Nik laughed and I hid my face in his chest, embarrassed and already aware that I would never live this down.

 //

 Back to Five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘Come on, Kol!’ Bekah complained from one of the love seats—Nik and I occupied the other.

 ‘It’s my choice, Bekah. You think I wanted to watch that god-awful romance movie you picked last month? No. But did I complain?’ his question was intended to be rhetorical but I answered anyway.

 ‘Excessively.’ I deadpanned, chuckling with the others.

 ‘Well—I didn’t complain as much as I wanted to.’ He said, as if that were a solid argument. I rolled my eyes and settled further into Nik’s side, my head resting on his chest. His arm was wrapped around me and he was tracing random patterns on my arm. I sighed in contentment, knowing that if he kept that up with how warm and relaxed I was, I wouldn’t see ten minutes of this movie.

 ‘Then Bekah can complain just shy of how much she wants to, and you’ll have to take it.’ Marcel pointed out, laughing at Kol’s affronted expression.

 ‘Can we just get this over with? The sooner it’s on, the sooner it can be over.’ Elena mumbled, a blanket wrapped around her, that and her husband’s arms around her providing her with protection from the zombies that Kol was subjecting us to. She was sat on the far end of the couch, Stefan to her right, Kol to his right and Damon on the other side of him. Bekah and Marcel were sat on the armchair; the female Mikaelson basically sat on her husband’s lap.

 ‘Come on, you’re a vampire. If zombies were running around in this world, they’d be no match for any of us.’ Damon smirked smugly from his seat next to Kol.

 ‘You don’t know that. What if a zombie bite affected us? If we also became zombie’s I’d hate to spend an eternity like that.’ Elena argued, pointing to the zombie that was now on the screen.

 Instead of arguing, Damon shushed her, reaching for a handful of popcorn where the ridiculously huge bowl rested on Kol’s lap. I busied myself with the chocolate Eminem’s I’d commandeered, occasionally feeding some to Nik as I munched away.

 I reached over to the arm of the chair for one of the blood bags we’d bought over to sustain us through the movie. I opened the cap and drank a few sips before offering some to my Hybrid, when he was finished I recapped it and placed it back where I’d grabbed it. I sighed softly, not interested in the movie in the slightest. But I knew this was the whole point of movie night, it wasn’t simply to watch; it was an opportunity to spend time together. Glancing around I noticed that Bekah and Nik were also unimpressed, Elena was terrified, while Kol, Damon, Marcel were overly amused by what passed as a horror movie.

 I shifted in Nik’s arms so my head now rested on his shoulder, I faced his neck, not bothering any further with the terrible acting on the screen and started to play with the collection of necklaces around his throat. A small smile always formed on my face when my fingers connected with the only metallic one he wore—the locket I’d given him all those centuries ago. He’d tried to return it to me, but I insisted he wore it, liking that a part of me was always with him on the rare occasions I couldn’t be. In return he’d gifted me with his necklace that bore the Mikaelson crest. It had originally hung from a leather cord but he’d had it transferred to a silver chain and I wore it around my neck, happy to have something that reminded me of him for always.

 ‘Bored there my love?’ He murmured, to quiet to be heard by anyone else over the T.V.

 ‘While I’m in your arms? Never.’ I grinned as his chuckle, placing a kiss to his pulse point.

 ‘Do you ever think about getting married?’ Nik asked and I blinked at the question.

 I leaned up, my hands resting against his face so I could take in his expression. He looked curious, yet slightly nervous.

 ‘I used to all the time when I was human. Had my perfect wedding all planned out. But it was something I gave up on when I became a vampire.’ I told him honestly.

 ‘Why?’ he wondered, reaching up to brush some hair behind my ear.

 ‘Because I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend an eternity with me. I could barely imagine sixty years, but forever? It just seemed impossible.’ I murmured.

 ‘What about now?’ he seemed tentative, which was rare for him and I couldn’t help but instinctively move a hand to his hair, knowing that it soothed him.

 ‘Is that your way of proposing?’ I teased, trying to ease his nerves.

 He grinned, leaning up and pecking my lips before falling back to the love seat, ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.’

 The sincerity in his expression caught me off guard, but my surprise quickly faded to delight, ‘really?’

 He nodded, relieved by my excitement, ‘I even have a ring. I was planning on a romantic dinner with just the two of us, ending with me asking you.’

 ‘That sounds like quite the proposal.’ I commented, my hand gently moving back and forth against his jaw, ‘why mention it now?’

 ‘My love, patience has never been my strength. I’ve waited so long to have you back in my arms and I can’t keep putting off making you mine because I’m waiting for a perfect moment. Every moment with you is more perfect than I ever could have imagined, and certainly more perfect than I deserve. I love you Evangeline, with everything that I am. Spend an eternity with me. Marry me.’ He said, softly wiping away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks.

 ‘Okay,’ I was sure my tears didn’t dampen the pure happiness that I could feel radiating from my face. Nik captured my lips, kissing me with a softness and tenderness that made my heart flutter in my chest.

 ‘I love you.’ I told him, my voice barely above a whisper, but his soft smile assured me that he’d heard me.

 ‘I love you too.’ He replied as I settled against his chest again.

 I drifted off to sleep there, surrounded by our oblivious family and in the arms of the man I loved.

 //

 Five years and six months after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘You look beautiful.’ Jenna said, dabbing away the tears in her eyes with a tissue.

 I smiled at her from where I was sat, getting my hair curled by one of the professionals Bekah had hired for all of us.

 ‘Thank you Aunt Jenna.’ I winked.

 ‘If you’re this emotional now, you’re gonna be done for when she puts on the dress.’ Elena teased, winding an arm around Jenna’s waist.

 They had all gotten ready before me so they (mainly Bekah) could assure everything else was going to plan everywhere else. The female Mikaelson was currently checking on the boys and making sure they were finished, honestly I was so grateful for her. If it hadn’t been for her input, I doubt we could’ve pulled off the wedding I’d been dreaming of since I was a little girl.

 ‘I know, I just keep thinking about your Mom and Dad and how proud they would be right now.’ She said, barely squeezing out her words before the tears started streaming again.

 ‘They are here, Jenna. Maybe not in body but definitely in spirit.’ Elena assured both our aunt and I. I offered her a grateful smile, my eyes flicking over to my bouquet of red and white roses I would be holding while walking down the isle—my mom and dad’s favourite flowers. It had been Nik’s idea and I’d loved it.

 ‘You’re right.’ Our emotional aunt nodded, seeming to steel herself as she dabbed her eyes one last time before securing her tissue in her bra. Elena and I shared an amused glance.

 ‘You both look beautiful by the way.’ I complimented them.

 I had chosen Elena as my maid of honour, with Bekah and Jenna being bridesmaids. Each wore a deep purple A-line styled dress made of chiffon material. This colour matched the ties of the groomsman, aside from Nik’s—his would be white. The dress cut off just below the knee, revealing the black platform shoes each of them wore. I had encouraged them to choose how they wanted to wear their own hair and was surprised when they’d all agreed on one hairstyle for them all. Their hair had been curled, with the front being pinned back to the backs of their heads with a jewelled clip that matched the deep purple of their dresses. They looked stunning.

 ‘Not as beautiful as you’re going to look.’ Bekah commented as she re-entered the room, looking moderately relieved.

 ‘What’s up?’ Lena asked.

 ‘Nik’s pacing a hole in the floor from his room. It amazes me how quickly his paranoia grows the longer he’s separated from you.’ She shook her head in amazement, moving over to the mirror to unzip my dress.

 ‘Well maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if someone hadn’t made us sleep apart last night.’ I muttered, already reaching for my phone.

 ‘It’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding!’ Bekah protested, frowning when she saw me walking towards the bathroom, ‘what are you doing? You need to put your dress on, the ceremony starts in ten minutes!’

 ‘I’ll be two, I promise.’ I smiled reassuringly and closed the door behind me, finding Nik’s contact and clicking it before bringing it to my ear.

 It rung once before he answered, ‘Evangeline.’ He murmured; his voice already sounding a little more relaxed.

 ‘Hello my gorgeous Hybrid and soon to be husband.’ I answered brightly, smiling at the sound of his chuckle, ‘what’s this I hear about you being paranoid?’

 ‘It’s nothing, my love. Just my self depreciating voice rearing it’s ugly head and telling me that I don’t deserve you.’ He said, his voice more sombre now.

 ‘Nik, you are the strongest, sweetest, smartest, funniest, sexiest and most talented man I’ve ever known. So you tell that voice inside your head to shove it because you’re an amazing man and I promise to keep reminding you of that fact for eternity.’

 ‘Thank you, my love. You always know what to say,’ he said, his voice soft.

 ‘You’re welcome, we all need reassurance sometimes, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ My voice was as gentle as his.

 ‘I can’t wait to marry you.’ I could sense his smile on the other side of the phone.

 ‘Right back at you my Hybrid.’ I grinned, ‘speaking of I should put my dress on before Bekah has an aneurism. I’ll see you soon.’

 ‘That you will, my love.’

 I hung up the phone and exited the bathroom, handing my phone to Jenna while Bekah and Elena helped me step into my dress. I had surprised everyone with my determination to choose my own wedding attire, which was fair seeing as any other clothing trip ended with me leaving it to Bekah. But I’d had a very specific dress in mind for my wedding day and I was overjoyed with the end result. It was a ball gown dress with a three-foot train; the bodice had a lace overlay that extended on sheer material to my arms. There were hundreds of diamonds scattered all over that twinkled when they caught the light just right. The veil that was clipped into my hair was also decorated with lace and hung all the way down to the floor. I was wearing my Mikaelson necklace, which I’d been sure to pull from underneath my dress, displaying the crest proudly where it rested on my chest. My hair was curled; the front pinned back similarly to the girls’ but mine was secured with the clip of my veil. My made up was natural; my lips painted with a deep red lip stain that matched the roses I’d be carrying perfectly.

 ‘You look radiant.’ Bekah said, tears forming in her own eyes.

 ‘Don’t, you’re gonna make me cry.’ I warned.

 ‘We can’t have that, you’ll ruin your make up and you look perfect.’ Elena nudged Bekah playfully.

 A knock on the door broke us out of our conversation; Elena answered the door to reveal Elijah. His expression became soft when he saw me, his own eyes glassing over as emotion overcame him.

 ‘Sister, you look… wonderful.’ He murmured.

 I hugged him, ‘thank you Lijah.’

 ‘Well, it’s time.’ Bekah announced, shooing the other bridesmaids out of the room, ‘remember walk down the isle when you hear the wedding march.’

 ‘We know Bekah.’ I chuckled, my arm linking through Elijah’s as we followed them.

 I had asked him to walk me down the isle because I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it. Elijah had become the best big brother I could have ever hoped for, and it seemed wrong to be given away by anyone else. Of course, Nik had also asked him to be best man, so after he’d delivered me to the end of the isle, he would take his place in between Nik and Kol. I took a deep breath as we reached the entrance to the ballroom; we were getting married at a house Nik had built in Mystic Falls long before I had even been born. He wanted to have a house where we could live when I wanted to visit my home, and a place that he could stay in to reminisce about the village he’d lived in when he was human. He’d built this house on top of the same place he’d resided all those years ago. When he’d told me that, it seemed to be the perfect location; the town where I’d grown up, where my parents were born and buried, and the village he’d spent time with his family before they’d become vampires. It held a lot of nostalgia and meaning for the both of us, and I knew then that this is where we could become husband and wife.

 ‘Are you ready, sister?’ Elijah murmured, turning to me as the march started.

 I nodded, unable to keep the smile off my face as I followed Elijah’s lead down the isle. I’ve never felt more love and happiness than I did in that moment, surrounded by those I loved, and the man I loved more than anything. Those invited had been kept to a bare minimum. Nik had most of his friends as groomsmen: Marcel, Stefan, Kol and Elijah were all stood up there with him, while on my side stood Jenna, Bekah and Elena. Other than that, Damon, Jeremy, April (he’d asked to bring her as his guest), Sophie, Josh, Cami, Finn and Freya all sat in white wooden chairs as the audience.

 Freya had been a surprise to the Mikaelson’s not long after Nik had proposed. She’d popped up explaining that their aunt Dahlia had kidnapped her and cursed to spend a hundred years sleeping to every year of life. That had been a close fight that involved another time travel spell for Esther’s blood and a few other ingredients, but we defeated her and Freya was free and connecting with the family she’d yearned to know for centuries. Finn was a different story. He’d been undaggered after Nik had tracked down Sage, who’d been his long lost love nine centuries ago. After their reunion, they’d departed and we hadn’t heard a word from him until Freya popped up and he came to the compound to visit her. Even during those visits he’d only really spoken to his eldest sister. Still, we’d extended a wedding invitation to him seeing as he was technically family. But I’ll admit I was stunned by his attendance; I suspected Freya had something to do with it. Though I was unsurprised that Sage hadn’t come; her and Nik had apparently never gotten along.

 After my eyes had quickly glanced over those present they fell and remained on the most important one of all. My Hybrid was positively beaming with happiness, the same kind that I was sure he could see on my face. The kind of elation that you felt at the prospect of marrying your best friend, your confidant, your lover… your person. His gorgeous blue eyes were glassed over as he fought to hold back his tears, I want as strong however, my tears having long fallen onto my cheeks. Bekah would have a fit, but I didn’t care. Elijah took my hand and placed it in Nik’s and just like that, I was home. My fingers entwined with his as we faced the man we’d chosen to officiate our marriage.

 ‘We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in matrimony.’ I couldn’t help but tune out what he was saying, too lost in Nik’s eyes to worry about anything else.

 ‘I believe you have written your own vows?’ I startled at the question, and nodded.

 ‘Nik, before I met you, I had given up on the idea of marriage, of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. When I was human, it seemed plausible, as sixty years doesn’t seem as daunting as an eternity. But suddenly faced with the prospect of forever, I couldn’t imagine finding anyone who would love me enough to want to be tied with me for eternity. Then I met you. We might have first gotten of on the wrong foot,’ we all shared a chuckle at that, ‘but I fell in love with you so fast that it scared me. I’d never felt so much so fast before, but before I could get too lost in my own insecurities, you told me that you loved me too. Not with words at first, but in the way you protected me, the way that you touched me and the way that you looked at me. From that moment all those years ago, I couldn’t picture a future without you in it, and now I can’t wait to spend eternity with you as your wife.’ I gently wiped away the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks before grasping his hands in mine again.

 ‘Evangeline, I’ve been on this earth for a long time, and for a majority of it I was a man I’m not proud of. As a human, I was berated and beaten for no reason other than my father’s unexplainable hatred of me. When I became a vampire and my werewolf side was revealed, I was more of an outsider then I had ever been. I learned to be ashamed of who I was, because that is what my mother inadvertently told me when she cursed my werewolf side into dormancy. This created a man whose insecurity and fear manifested itself as anger and aggression. I believed I didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. I became a monster, pushing away those closest to me until I believed they hated me too. I belittled anyone who showed emotion, when deep down I envied them for being brave enough to love, to adore, to laugh, and to be happy. I spent centuries taking the fate of my sibling’s into my own hands, because while I knew they hated me, I loved them and I couldn’t tamper my protective instincts when it came to their safety. They perceived it was out of spite or superiority and I let them believe it because it was easier to accept their hate than their love. But then I met you. You came into my life and within two minutes you’d already, albeit unwillingly, revealed your plans to kill me.’ I chuckled with him, my tears falling steadily down my face, ‘but despite the obvious threat, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. When you offered a plan to help me I was grateful that it meant I didn’t have to come up with an excuse myself. Your light, your kindness to a man who you only knew to cause you pain drew me in. You bought out my humanity without effort and I found myself overcome with my love for you, with my protectiveness and adoration. You accepted me for who I was, you made accepting your love and returning it effortless. You made me realise that I deserved to be loved.’ He took a breath, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks and smiling when I leaned into his touch. ‘I vow that for the rest of eternity, you will never doubt how much I love you, Evangeline.’

 My hands squeezed his gently as we shared a smile.

 ‘The rings?’ The officiate asked.

 I turned and took Nik’s ring from Elena, while Nik retrieved mine from Elijah.

 After we exchanged ‘I do’s,’ Nik pulled me in for a passionate kiss and just like that, we were married. The idea of an eternity with one person may have scared me once. But that was before Nik. That was before I’d met the one person in the world who seemed to understand me better than I understood myself. He was my rock, my Hybrid, and as long as he was by my side the prospect of forever was anything but daunting.

[steeltoss]

Pre Shippuden — Shippuden Era

Ages 16 - 22. This is a continuation of the events in Hokkaido's life.

Age 16

I left off on her six month mission in Konohagakure. Backtracking a few months before she turned sixteen, she worked directly under Tsunade Senju amd had slowly reconnected with her old friends, including Neji Hyūga, Kiba Inuzuka, Ino Yamanaka, Sakura Haruno, Shikamaru Nara, and Choji Akamichi.

That being said, her sixteenth birthday was spent in the Hidden Leaf. The party was small and planned by Ino, complete with a few cupcakes and dango. This was the first birthday she enjoyed after Emi passed away.

Speaking of Emi, Hokkaido constantly worried over Ichika and often wrote letters to the younger one. After all, next year Ichika would start the Amegakure Academy.

Aside from her mission, nothing too big happened this year. Though she found out Sasuke was missing. He had become a Rogue Ninja. Okay that's pretty big but still.

Age 17

Upon her journey towards Amegakure after the six months had passed, the Kunoichi had taken it into her own hands to search for Sasuke. She strayed off the path she should have been taking to go to the Hidden Rain Village.

From here, she runs into some nasty company.

This was the first time she met Pein and Konan. And they looked like they were ready to end her.

Upon activating her sharingan, interest was sparked in her by Pein. She was spared on one condition. Well a few, but one big one.

She was to join the Akatsuki, accept the Rogue life and abandon her old life. This would mean abandoning the Hidden Rain and Ichika.

But on the other hand, maybe she could find Sasuke. She had no clue just how wrong she was. But she agreed nonetheless.

So she was taken back to the base, fron there, she met the other members.

Okay don't kill me but here's what happens when she first meets the Akatsuki: [her opinion and relationships will change over time]

Pein: Of course when they first met, she was intimidated and activated her sharingan, but being spared and hopefully brought closer to her brother, she would do anything he asked, for now at least.

Konan: Seeing her special skills, Hokkaido was intimidated but wouldn't admit so. She seems to be the only female here.

Deidara: I'm sorry Dei, but my little angel thought you were a very beautiful lady until you spoke the first time. Needless to say, she was rather shocked but admired his hair and explosives anyway.

Kakuzu: one word. Fear. This man is huge and crazy tall, also his personality reminds her of what its like to bite into a crabapple.

Hidan: she admired his dedication, but didn't like how he greeted her with “Fuck, there's another one? At least this one has a decent rack”. She punched him. And threatened his life only to find out he's immortal.

Tobi: well, he's very hyper and welcoming at least, but she wondered why he wore that mask.

Kisame: is he a man? Shark? Man-Shark? Either way, she kept a distance and admired his strength from afar.

Sasori: puppets are completely and utterly horrifying and she wanted nothing to do with this weird puppet man. Until she saw how red his hair was and her cheeks dusted a pale pink. It reminded her of someone she met a few years ago.

Itachi: . . . Her brother. Her brother, who had killed the clan was in the Akatsuki. Upon seeing him, she wondered if it was too late to leave the Akatsuki. She rurned her nose away and sighed.

Zetsu: “are you a. . . Big, adorable plant man?” i think it's safe to say Zetsu stared at her and quite possibly closed his trap around himself to save himself the embarrassment or black Zetsu threatening to eat her.

Back to Age 17

Sasuke wasn't with them, and she felt like shutting down completely. She was now at square one again. She had hoped this was her ticket to helping her brother, but ahe didnt know he didn't want help.

And honestly, you can't help someone who doesn't want any help.

Aside from her mind overworking, she now had to face Itachi as he was staring her down.

“hey, Itachi... ”

From there, the two walked around as he explained what really happened that day. She was torn. The Leaf had ordered this massacre?

Maybe she wasn't ready to go home after all.

Age 18

On her eighteenth birthday, she had spent her very first one with Itachi in nine years, and she oncr again, was crying those sappy happy little tears.

She never really expected a group of terrorists to the villages to get her gifts, yet they had.

Konan had gotten her a pair of fingerless gloves; Hokkaido appreciated the gesture because her hands were usually cold and Konan usually got things she needed or wanted anyway as the two had become closer.

Kisame had given her her very first katana, which, she undeniably adored the gesture; and she was extremely pink cheeked, she wasn't in love with him but she really liked his caring and understanding attitude.

Tobi had gotten her a mask to match his, which she never would wear; instead, she retaliated with offering to share dango with him instead. Which results in him squealing.

Sasori had claimed he didn't give a damn about things she wanted but still placed a small wooden figure of well, GAARA, in front of her; which led to the idea he had read her diary and had fully embarrassed her. But this little figure was different. Gaara was dressed as the Kazekage.

Deidara had picked her up some paint; remembering she hsd spent endless nights she couldn't sleep to paint her ceilinv and walls, and was out of it.

Zetsu uh, well, gave her a few seeds for flowers. It was for a joke since he figured she would never use them, but she held o to them. Just wait. These gifts will be brought up later.

Kakuzu, and i can't stress this enough, didn't do shit.

Hidan, on the other hand, tried offering immortality if she converted to jashinism.

Itachi had saved his for last. He had gotten her a journal and pens, as well as her stuffed panda from Amegakure.

A part of being an official member of the Akatsuki meant missions. And she had completed several, but what made her panic would be the one where the hunt for Jinchuuriki began.

It was a silent battle with herself. She had already dedicated herself to the Akatsuki but she knew two Jinchuuriki. Gaara and Naruto.

The day Gaara's One Tail was extracted, she covered her mouth upon hearing those certain words.

“He's dead”.

As if she had been hoping her life wouldn't get worse, she had already made up her mind. She really, really despised Deidara now. And she knew she would be killed if she straight up abandoned post.

However, on her next solo mission, she managed to leave a scroll for the Hokage and wanted word passed silently between the Five Kage's. She was playing both sides as of now, but desperately wanted out.

Would they believe her?

No. Not yet at least.

Age 19

Silence. She had succumbed herself with silence, almost like a vow she had taken. Deidara, Sasori, they were dead and war was coming.

She promised herself she would hate Deidara for what he did to Gaara, but she couldn't help but feel pity. Deidara was only a teenager when he died. [I think he was nineteen?]

With the Fourth Shinobi War coming, she was scared. Having no idea what to even do, Hokkaido assumed she would die.

Because I'm a lil bitch, I'm making you wait until she turns 20 for more details.

Age 20

The Akatsuki was no more. Almost all had died, and Hokkaido felt a slight empty feeling in her heart as she sat in front of the Five Kage's.

This was judgement. Would she be allowed to repent and become a better person or be banished forever, or die? Her mind was going wild.

Though, she couldn't help the feeling of ease as she saw Gaara, the Kazekage and boy she used to know, standing and perfectly fine.

“During the time of my extraction, I could see she wanted nothing to do with the Akatsuki organization. She looked almost forced to be there”.

The words Gaara spoke made her face turn pink and look away. Why was he trying to help her when she had fallen into the wrong group of people?

As if she hadn't already felt like she had succumbed herself in a repetitive cycle of falling for Gaara each day she thought about it, him helping her only dragged her deeper into the pit.

And Kami, he was so beautiful.

“and I'd like to offer that if you don't trust her, that's fine. She can return to Suna with me and Kankurō. She can build herself from there”.

So she moves to Suna and begins working on herself as a person, much of the things she had thought about was the very questions Gaara had asked along the way.

“why help me?” she had asked, the gaze he gave her was hard but he responded with: “you aren't the only one who was in the wrong. It would be wrong of anyone to not let you change yourself. I was given a chance and was once feared and hated, so can you answer this for me, do you wamt to live? Do you want to start a new beginning? If so, keep walking with us”.

And so she walked.

Age 21

Life in Suna was much different than the Hidden Rain or Leaf. Not many people would contact her or look her way for the first few days. After all she was an outsider and reformed terrorist.

Hokkaido had grown close to Temari once more, as well as Kankurō. These two, when free, helped her with the adjustment.

Hokkaido had left Amegakure behind, the ache in her heart subsiding as she realized Ichika had grown into a decent young child and chose to not become a shinobi, considering shinobi had too many hardships and heartaches to deal with.

As for Gaara, the two often spent time gardening and cultivating cacti.

Something from the past had finally been planted. The flower seeds Zetsu had given her way back on her birthday spent with the Akatsuki.

The katana that Kisame had given her was placed on a display.

Her Traditional Japanese Sword Display

The katana which is the most recognized full sized samurai sword and is often the first piece in any collection. It sits at the bottom and has a beautiful violet ito handle wrap.

The second would be the wakizashi which is a mid-sized sword that resembles the katana and the ito handle wrap was midnight blue.

Then the third which is a tanto. The tanto is the shortest of the swords or in many examples can be as short as today's standard survival styled knife. The ito wrap is black.

This is an example of how the stand is:

Age 21

The mask Tobi had given her had brought up bitter memories and had long sense been tossed into a storage box.

Her fingerless gloves had been destroyed during the war, but since she used them for swordplay, Temari had gotten her a new pair as a gift.

The wooden figure Sasori had given her of Gaara was more or less embarassing since she lived with the sand siblings and had hidden it away in the storage box.

Her panda sat on her bed, displayed and untouched except for during the night.

Age 22

Upon the next year, Hokkaido watched as relationships blossomed between many people, marriages and children coming into the world, she began wondering if she would ever have something like this in her own life. She highly doubted it.

Having been back and forth from Konohagakure, she grew closer to Shikamaru once more from childhood as she often joined the male and Temari on days they'd spend time together.

Other times, Hokkaido would stick to Kankurō and help with making puppets, she rather enjoyed painting them.

And occasionally, when Gaara was free, the two would still garden together and had began talking more, sometimes the two would even go out to the village and walk around together.

Her feelings for Gaara seemed to only hrow stronger as she had grown older, and she imagined herself having a future with him. It always made her heart hammer and her face turn blood red.

This year, she had cut most of her hair off to her shoulders as it had grown too long. She soon admits her feelings to Gaara, unsurprisingly, he was silent.

She most definitely assumed she blew it, but nearly a week later, Gaara had shyly asked if she would allow him to court her.

This was most definitely the beginning of a new and beautiful relationship.

I'll pick up with pre boruto - boruto era soon. Though im not sure if these are even good. @temarihime @thefifthkazekage @how-troublesome @houndninja

[hunnybadgerv]

Pear-Shaped | Far Cry 5 | Tayen Quick

Summary: Deputy Tayen Quick finds herself thrust into the middle of a cult uprising and at a crossroads of conscience and self-preservation. It turns out to be a defining moment for her and the citizens of this picturesque part of Montana.

a/n: The first in a series of one-shots that piece together Deputy Tayen Quick’s responses and adventures in Hope County and the Holland Valley—before, during, and after the Reaping by the Project of Eden’s Gate and the Seed Family. It is fairly canon-typical, but knowing how I tend to do things, it is not unlikely for there to be canon divergence and rewriting.

AO3 LINK

Pear-Shaped

-1-

Warrant service. Helicopter crash. Shoot outs and a car chase. Driving off a bridge into the river. Deputy Tayen Quick’s head was still spinning even though the adrenaline had stopped pumping and the world seemed not to be gunning specifically for her for a few seconds. A radio broadcast told her she was still on the minds of the group from Eden’s Gate—after all their preacher, Joseph Seed, had started the Reaping, whatever that was, and now he had them looking for her, presumably to add her to his collection of law enforcement prisoners. It made her head pound worse.

Dutch had proved convincing enough to trust, but it was more than that. She couldn’t get it out of her head. That voice, Joseph’s singing. Even as she stripped out of her uniform, the glint of the star she’d worn on her chest gleaming in the low light of the bunker caught her eye. Her thumb ran over the flag on the shoulder. She’d been wearing that for nearly 15 years before she took this job—12 years in the service and 3 on the force back home.

Sinking to the floor, she leaned against the cold lockers. The sensation grounded her. She laid her head back against the metal and closed her eyes. “You came out here because it was supposed to be quiet.”

Dutch’s voice carried down the hall. “This place was never quiet.”

Her head snapped toward the sound, but he wasn’t anywhere near her. She sat and listened.

“That’s just an illusion city folk have about the country. They think all this space, big sky, mountains, and wilderness makes for a quiet, pastoral existence. It’s not really true. On the surface, it might look like that. But most of the time, the only difference is that people are just too far away to see the real shit.”

He sighed. “That’s what happened with those Eden Gate people. No one batted an eye when they built their church. Or their commune. They kept to themselves mostly. Sure, they held their revivals, but there’s not a church in 300 miles that doesn’t do that. No one realized anything was askew until it was too late.”

“Then the marshal came in with his warrant and we kicked the shit out of the hornet’s nest,” she added.

“Yeah,” he said. There was accusation in the tone of his voice, but that wasn’t all. She couldn’t put her finger on what else she thought she heard.

“Yeah, well. I told you I’d help as best I can.”

“And if that’s not enough?” he asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t get an answer. His boot falls moved down the hall, leaving her to imagine all on her own.

His bunker reminded her too much of her own place—bare, sparse furnishings, pictures of old friends all in uniform, a few plaques and commendations. It was almost like looking into her own future, and it gave Tayen the chills. Turning her back on the decor, she stared into the locker. She stripped down and traded her uniform pants for a pair of standard issue camo trousers. Of course, they were not her size, but she used her own belt to cinch them up. She pulled on a black tank top and slid into a red and black flannel shirt which she left unbuttoned and untucked.

Stepping back into her boots, Deputy Quick shuffled down the hall, leaving behind the trappings of her position—for now. Dutch was right, wandering around the county in her uniform was going to paint a bigger bolder target on her back, and she didn’t need that. Not if she was going to get help.

“Hey,” Tayen said, as she stopped in the doorway. Her eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. The bank of ham and CB radios, the map with photos and pins galore, sparsely populated shelves, a gun safe—this guy was prepared for some next level shit to go down. She’d heard of prepper types, but this felt extreme. “Um,” she said when he didn’t answer, “you got anything down here to eat.”

Dutch, staring at the radios that only belched out static, turned his head and sighed. “Next door down. Start with the cans first.”

She gave him a nod, pushing a hand through her chin length inky black hair before she moved. The events of the night before drained her, physically and emotionally. In the kitchen/living area, she found a can of stew easy enough and a can opener. Once the smell hit her, her stomach rumbled and twisted into knots at the same time as a dilemma formed in her addled mind—eat it cold or warm it up.

“You can wait two fricken minutes, Tayen,” she told herself, opting for a bowl and sticking it in the microwave. Dutch checked on her a little later, as she was inhaling the calories needed to refuel her.

He said nothing and just walked over and tapped the button under a blinking light on his answering machine. A woman’s voice, frantic and afraid filled the room. It stopped the deputy’s scarfing and she stared at the device, clearly affected by what she was hearing. She might not know Rae-Rae, but it was clear by that message that something was off.

“People here could use your help here, deputy.”

She let go of her spoon and leaned back against the counter. “Don’t you think the best way I can help them is to let people know what’s going on?”

“Before the radio signals went to shit, I heard dozens of calls saying that the tunnel out of the valley was blocked. And three maydays from local pilots saying they’d been shot at and were going down.”

The bowl rested against the side of her thigh, as she pressed her fingers over her forehead.

“You know what I’m saying, girl.” His eyes flicked from her face to the black ink peeking out from beneath her rolled up sleeve. “You’ve been there before.”

“Yeah, I have, old man.” She straightened, tension rolling her shoulders back. “That part of my life is over.” Her feet carried her to the sink where she deposited the half-eaten bowl of stew. Both her palms pressed against the counter as she leaned there. “And I got no intention of going back into hell,” she muttered.

“Might be too late for that.”

Deep down, she knew he was right. She’d seen that compound, seen Joseph riling his forces and setting them loose. She’d been shot at and nearly killed a dozen times the night before. Somehow, she managed to not wind up captured or dead. Yeah, this was as deep as any other hell she had ever known.

She let out a long exhale and leaned on her elbows. Dutch just patted her on the shoulder and left her with her thoughts. Time seemed to stand still as she stared at the rust gathering at the edge of the sink where it met the countertop. It took her longer than she would ever own up to, but eventually, she came around, but she was determined to do it right.

Whatever that meant. She was an officer of the peace, not a soldier under orders. Her job was to protect these people. Of course, she didn’t know precisely what that meant or how it would have to look. With her decision made, Tayen grabbed her bowl and wandered down the hall back to Dutch’s control room, as she deemed it.

“All right. Fill me in.”

Dutch turned and gave her a grim nod. “This is what I’ve been able to piece together so far,” he began.

The deputy listened intently, occasionally jotting notes on the pad she always carried when she was on shift. Something told her this was going to be the never-ending shift from hell.

 -2-

Less than 300 yards from the door of Dutch’s bunker, Tayen got to see traces of the Peggie’s Reaping.

“No, don’t!”

She froze at the scream. It was followed by the telltale sound of flesh on flesh, a punch more likely. The groaning resounded through the trees. She crept forward as quietly as she could manage.

“You will repent,” a wild haired, bearded man told a captive who was kneeling in the mud with his hands behind his back.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve this,” the man replied.

Her hand went to her sidearm, well, Dutch’s pistol really. Her teeth ground together as she considered it. The cult members were both armed. Even if she shot first, one of them could still get lucky and get a shot off. With a slow exhale, she looked around her on the ground. Finding a weighty limb with a good bit of heft to it, she moved through the brush as the man and his prisoner continued to argue.

She knew she would have to move fast. At the edge of the high grass, she darted at the woman, whose back was to her and bashed her with a two-handed swing of the branch she’d found. Then she took two steps and sprang at the man. He dropped his pistol when she got her arm around his neck.

The captive threw himself backward to avoid the pair.

Using her body against his in a way to facilitate leverage on her hold, his clawing soon turned toward patting. Then his hands slid away from her arm as his knees buckled. Tayen Quick didn’t release him until they were both on the ground. Once the man was down, she finally loosened her grip and checked his pulse. The slow thud under her fingertips was a relief.

“Is he—?” the captive asked.

“Breathing,” she replied.

“Christ.”

Her hands frisked over the man’s back, pulling extra clips from a pocket of his cargo pants. She also stripped him of a pocketknife and a pair of flex cuffs, which she tightened around the unconscious man’s wrists before flipping him over. She inspected the knife; it was rusty and dull and probably couldn’t cut through room temperature butter. “Who the hell goes into the woods without a knife?” she muttered at his complete ridiculousness.

She moved to the man in khaki and sawed at the duct tape around his wrists with the shitty pocketknife she’d found on the captor.

“Thank God you were out here,” the captive said. He rubbed at his wrists once she finally got him free. He just stared at her as she moved away from him.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you come from?” she asked.

“Working at the park observatory up on the hill. They just came out of nowhere.”

“How many?” Her questions and her tone were curt as she moved to the other cult member. Her fingers searched for a pulse first. Her shoulders shrank when she didn’t find one. This wasn’t what her job was supposed to look like, she recalled as she crouched over the body. Her gaze flicked back to the unconscious one. She couldn’t leave him anything he could use to hurt anyone.

“Dozen. They were just suddenly there. I never saw them coming.” The man shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not that I ever thought to look,” he muttered.

“And why would you?” she asked, glancing up at him with her hands in the dead woman’s pockets.

He huffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Look, I have … well, had some supplies up there. You’re welcome to anything you might need. Anything the Peggies didn’t already take.”

“Appreciate it,” Tayen said with a genuine smile.

“Least I could do,” he replied.

She laughed wryly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my job.”

Grabbing the pistols, the two had been carrying, she offered one to the ranger as they hiked up the hill. “You know how to use one of these?” she asked.

“C’mon, miss. I’m from these parts. Grew up shooting.”

“Well, then here you go, but try to keep your head down.”

He nodded. “For sure.” They continued on in silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you leave that guy tied up back there?”

Tayen’s smooth gait stuttered. And the first answer that came to mind, because I’m not a murderer, was immediately countered by the realization that she had, not seconds before choking that guy out, killed his backup. “I just …” She searched her mind for a reasonable response. “I’m with the Sheriff’s office,” she finally said like it was a perfectly valid explanation.

While he nodded, the knit of his brow told her it didn’t really make sense to him either.

“I’m supposed to protect and serve, not kill with impunity,” she added.

“Don’t think I’m not grateful, because I am. Really. I’d be dead or who knows where if you hadn’t come along. I was just … curious.”

Quick nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” And while she understood the impetus for the question; her answer to it still left her a little stumped, even if it felt right. She wasn’t an executioner, wasn’t a soldier anymore, she was a cop—meant to protect the people not be their executioner. She rubbed at the back of her neck and mounted the stairs once they reached the station.

[not-close-to-straight]

Take Me To Church (ThunderShield)

My favorite ThunderShield dynamic includes hopelessly stupidly in love Steve with shameless!Thor, so enjoy our two favorite blonds in a short story inspired by Hoziers “Take Me To Church”.

Note: The linked video is of Sergei Polunin dancing to the song, because Hozier’s original video is very powerful but also needs TW and this story is about people discovering/enjoying the beauty of their love. Also, there are general jokes that skew towards blasphemous, and mentions of past period typical homophobia but nothing terrible. 

Another Note: this is not near as serious as you expect

Enjoy!

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

“There’s only one god, ma’am.” Steve said confidently. “And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.”

Famous last words, as the saying goes.

The Battle for New York taught Steve Rogers, —Captain America, the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the Man Out of Time, Stars and Gripes (as Tony so lovingly called him)— about a lot of things, like portals in space and aliens and mild mannered scientists that turned into horrifying rage monsters. 

But the one thing Steve hadn’t been prepared to learn, the one thing that kept him up at night and up in the shower and up every damn day of his unexpectedly 21st century life—

There definitely was more than one god, and the one named Thor dressed however he damn well pleased.

Or didn’t dress however he damn well pleased, as the current case was.

“Thor.” Steve forgot to check his strength and the sparring bag ripped off the chain, flew across the gym and dented the wall next to a suddenly screaming Clint. “What—what—I—shit.”

“Steven.” Thor replied evenly, mopping at his sweaty naked body with a hand towel, never breaking eye contact with Steve. “How are you?” 

“I--” 

Steve was broken, is what he was. 

Three months he’d been trying to convince himself he wasn’t out of his mind with lust over a deity and yet Thor did things like this, like walk around naked, like flaunt his body while his eyes sparked lightning, like Steve wasn’t two heartbeats away from falling to his knees and begging-- 

“Hey big guy, I told you the rules about full frontal nudity in the gym, right?” Tony, fresh from yoga with Tasha and Pepper, who had exactly zero issue ogling everything Thor was presenting. “Not all of us are swinging hammers below the belt, stop making us self conscious.” 

“Oh I’m not self conscious!” Pepper called from the other side of the gym, and at her side, Natasha put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. “I’m not feeling self conscious at all! Stay naked Thor!” 

“Ms. Potts.” Thor sent the petite redhead a knowing grin, but nevertheless redirected the hand towel to cover more of his nudity. “Apologies, I didn’t realize anyone other than Steven was in here.” 

“Oh.” Tony blinked. “So you were flashing your dangly bits specifically for Steve? Or---” 

“Tony!” Steve hissed, thinking he might actually pass out if he blushed any harder. “Stop that!” 

“I know that Steve is a warrior of my caliber.” Thor pointed out calmly. “And I wanted to ask him to wrestle.” 

“Buck naked?” For all his insistence of Thor covering up, Tony wasn’t even trying to look away from the demi gods backside. “...Can I watch?” 

Steve closed his eyes and-- not for the first time since meeting the fast talking, quick smiling brunette-- contemplated murder. 

“No.” Thor answered firmly and Tony’s mouth dropped a little. “No, this is a a moment I intend only for myself and Steven.” 

“Yes.” Steve blurted and both Tony and Thor-- and from across the gym, a wide eyed Clint-- turned to look at him. “Yes I could wrestle. We could-- we could wrestle. I want to wrestle with you.” 

“This will be very fun.” Thor’s grin glinted with just an edge of knowing. 

“Very fun.” Steve repeated numbly. “Oh god, I don’t know if I’ll survive this. This will kill me.” 

“But a deathless death, is it not?” Thor rumbled, low and startlingly intimate and Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet the demi gods.  

“...A deathless death.” he repeated because oh-- oh--oh Thor was talking about---

“Have you found Valhalla?” Tony was forgotten and Clint forgotten and the shockingly inappropriate cat calls from the women forgotten as Thor took a step closer to Steve. “Lately? Recently? On your own?” 

“We call it heaven.” Steve stumbled forward a step too, nearly falling but catching himself on a sweat slick bicep and squeezing hard. “And yes, on my own.” 

Lightning lit in Thor’s eyes. “A better place if you and I are sent there together.” 

“Oh.” Steve swallowed hard. “Oh.” 

“Hungry?” Thor’s smile was wicked and Steve was wanting as he whispered back. “Starving.” 

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

“Okay so then?” Tony reached across Rhodey to steal most of the egg rolls off the plate. “Thor says he wants to wrestle and I swear to God, Steve almost died. Almost expired right there in the gym. Thor said something about not really dying but being sent to Valhalla or something? And then Steve basically died. Heart failure, probably.” 

“Or his dick exploded.” Clint pointed out, shoving noodles into his mouth at an alarming rate. “Cause of death, surprised by a god-caused orgasm. What a way to go.” 

“You are all animals.” Natasha said calmly, picking her way through a vegetarian plate with Pepper. “I’m not saying Steve doesn’t have a ten inch hard on for our resident celestial--” Pepper inhaled broccoli. “-- but Steve’s issue with Thor might actually be because Thor is a god and Steve grew up in a time when there was definitely only one god and he certainly didn’t look like a walking wet dream.” 

“You think?” Rhodey slapped Tony’s hand away from another egg roll. “Captain America doesn’t have a problem with aliens and wormholes and magic and waking up seventy years in the future, but having multiple gods is where he draws the line?” 

“You’re all forgetting Steve has seen some pretty unbelievable things, even before waking up.” Bruce pointed out. “Hydra was creating weapons back then that bordered on magical. He saw what happened to Schmidt being turned into the Red Skull, he saw the guy get zapped to a different portal. And beyond that, the guy is Irish. He might only believe in one god, but if you think he didn’t grow up hearing stories about fairies and all that? You’re wrong.” 

“So you don’t think he has a problem with Thor being a god.” Pepper clarified. “It’s not a religion issue.” 

“Oh no, it’s religious alright.” Bruce stabbed at an egg rolls, ignoring Tony’s gasp of outrage. “But it has less to do with ‘how many gods’ and more to do with what Steve wants to do with god.” 

A round of collective ‘ohs’ from the table, and then Clint-- “I mean, yeah. It’s a big jump when the topic of your prayers turns from ‘Bless mama and papa and the potatoes’ over to ‘Dear god, I’d really like you to stick it in me, also thanks for your blessings and your bounty’.” 

“Stop that.” Natasha kicked at him. “No one actually prays to Thor.” 

“But he’s right.” Pepper interceded. “Being gay was a lot bigger deal back then, and if Steve struggled with feeling guilty for his feelings, imagine the guilt when he’s not only with a man, but that man happens to be a god. That brings up all sorts of issues.” 

“Well it brings up one specific issue, anyway.” Tony countered, and then ack!ed when Rhodey threw a pillow at him. “What! I’m just saying I’m sure Steve is being properly supplicant! Probably on his knees praying to Thor right now!” 

Rhodey and Bruce shared an equally pained look while the rest of the team collapsed into helpless giggles. 

Earth’s mightiest heroes? Or a bunch of blasphemous degenerates?

“The good news is--!” Rhodey finally raised his voice above the noise. “Thor is pretty great, and he’ll be sure to show Steve that being together is beautiful, not sinful or wrong or any of the other things they yell from the pulpit on Sunday mornings.” 

Murmurs of agreement around the table, and then Clint one last time-- “I’m just saying? I’d let Thor take me to church any day of the week. Praise Jesus.” 

“You’re all going to hell.” Bruce informed the group, and whatever else Clint said was drowned out in laughter. 

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

“I could worship here forever.” Thor whispered, and Steve arched his back and cried out when powerful hands gripped at his legs to hold them open, when Thor’s mouth and lips and tongue found their place between his thighs.

Yes they had wrestled, yes they had wrestled, grappling at each other in the hot gym, rolling around the mats with their bodies rubbing together, stripping away shirts so sweat soaked skin slid over sweat soaked skin. 

Hands never slipped, but only purposefully strayed, and Steve hadn’t been able to quiet his moan when Thor had pinned him to the mat. He’d broken the hold and scrambled away but Thor was on him again, again and again, and when their legs tangled and muscles strained, it had been Thor who had gasped something unholy and shoved Steve flat on his back to cover him in a bruising kiss. 

And Steve thought-- a tad hysterically of course-- of all the Sundays he’d sat in church and stared up at the stained glass windows of the saints, all the Sundays he’d knelt by the alter and prayed, all the times he’d admitted his sins and repented, the weeks he’d felt guilty for looking at boys longer than he should--

“Not sick.” he blurted, or more likely slurred because his mouth was loose and jaw sore and tongue tired and voice hoarse after taking Thor and taking Thor and taking Thor so far down his throat. “Beautiful.” 

“Yes.” for all of Thor’s teasing, for his lack of understanding when it came to Earthly things, he was not silly nor was he stupid and he knew exactly what Steve was saying and why he was saying it. “Beautiful.” 

Worship. Was Steve’s last coherent thought when Thor split him open and took him apart and stripped him down to nothing more than sunlit pleasure. 

Should have worshiped here sooner. 

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

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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

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[italian-sides]

“Ombre e Bastoni”, ch. 2

Here I am with the second chapter! Again, a huge thank you to both @misslilidelaney on Tumblr for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights for being my beta! I also tag @ts-italian-gang, just in case. One last thing: if you want to support the ff, it’s on AO3 too! Thank you if you’re gonna step by! Enjoy!

Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.

And when all heads turned, Giuda Schiavon's only instinct was to turn away.

To avoid imploding.

At the exact moment the young man crossed the threshold, Giuda understood that he was Patrizio's famous "psychologist cousin".

And at the exact moment he saw his face, only one sentence echoed in his brain:

- Sò ciavà. - [1]

The newcomer sat down at the counter, while Remo looked illuminated with immense light and Romolo seemed to be having a heart attack.

"Patrì. Are you kidding? You should at least have said that your cousin was so beautiful!"

"What are you saying, Romolo? C'mon, you're embarrassing him!"

"Orco can, Pati [2], take it easy! Trust me, it takes much more to embarrass me.", the interested party replied, giving Romolo, who just laughed like a twelve year old, a benevolent smile.

- Nice, exactly what I needed, even the competition with the Stellina. -

Giuda glanced at Remo, who had been wiping the same glass for three minutes.

-Ah, well. Both the Stelline. [3] -

He just looked at the newcomer from behind the counter, through the mirror in front of which the liquors were placed.

Of course both twins already came out swinging, while Virgilio and Luca simply looked at him with the gaze of two hungry lions.

And obviously Patrizio noticed the looks that the Trentine guy - that is Luca - launched at his blood relative, and Giuda shook his head after seeing the Emilian's eyes getting a little bleary.

-If I end up like this too, I'll set myself on fire.-

"You're quiet, Giudino [4].", Tommaso, the only one who seemed immune to the charm of the newcomer, chirped.

Giuda merely smiled slyly, pointing to the group behind him with a nod:

"I'm enjoying the vultures."

"Pffftt, they're terribleee!", the pastry chef whispered, biting his lip from laughing, which made Giuda smile even further and then continue:

"They look like they haven't seen a man for ages, eh? And Patrizio has the face of someone who repented 'a sbrega'."

"At what?"

"Someone who regretted it very much. I’ll have to teach you Venetian sooner or later, boss."

Tommaso nodded, and Giuda decided to get defensive even before anyone could attack him.

"Plus, like... He's not even that  cool. He's pretty, don't get me wrong, but c'mon, to the point of making all four of them lose their heads?"

Tommaso nodded, shrugging:

"Agreed. And I hope Luca will soon get over this thing before Patrizio goes on a killing spree."

"Patrizio should also get a move on, however; Luca is too much of a wimp to realize he's drooling like a slug. If he doesn't get moving, someone else will take him and I’d like to remind you that the last time Patrizio got drunk, he got a sad hangover."

"Don't remind me, please."

"Ao, regà!" [5], Remo sneaked in and took them both by the arm, smiling like the idiot he was.

"Come and meet the newcomer!"

- Oh, no, please. -

"Boss, at least let me take off my dishwashing gloves!"

"No no, you have to keep them, I want him to understand who's in charge!", the 'older' brother of the Stella twins laughed at the request of his dishwasher.

- Curses.-

With a movement worthy of the worst drunks in Caracas, he brought Tommaso and Giuda in front of the newcomer, who had a smile capable of melting Giuda's heart in an instant.

And it did.

"Emilio, here's my co-partner and pastry-chef Tommaso Sandero, and my all-rounder, dishwasher, whatever-you-want, Giuda."

"I have a surname too, you know, old man.", with an eyeroll worthy of a Hollywood star, Giuda turned to Emilio.

Shit, he was even more beautiful, up close.

"Giuda Schiavon. I would shake your hand but I have gloves on."

"Schiavon?", Emilio asked, lighting up.

How beautiful a human being could be? Was he even legal?

"Ahah, his name is Schiavon. Which is perfect, since he's ours... [6]", Remo started, but Emilio dreamily clasped his hands in front of his face and asked, interrupting him:

"Are you from Veneto too? I'm from Verona!"

Giuda just shrugged, nodding immediately after:

"Par tera, par mar, Sammarco. [7]"

"Can del porco, un Venexian! Beaaa! [8]"

Having said that, Emilio approached him, pretending to speak in great secrecy - which was impossible, since everyone was still staring at him as if he was a wonderful thing, except perhaps Romolo, who was just looking at Giuda as if he was the worst thing that ever happened in this world:

"Cossa go da far pa aver na bona ombra de vin qua? [9]"

Was he trying to speak Venetian?

Was there a limit to how cute he could be?

"Ask Remo. I only wash the glasses, I don't fill them."

Having said that, he turned to the owner, making a superhuman effort to take his eyes off Emilio, who seemed quite dazzled by the answer.

"Can I go back? I have to go to the kitchen to finish washing the dishes before other people arrive for happy hour."

Then he turned back to Emilio, waving at him with half a smile:

"Fellow countryman, enjoy your stay in Bologna."

And then he left, without giving him time to answer.

*

Three years passed since their first meeting.

Three years in which Romolo made the funniest epic fail with Emilio, in which Patrizio decided to stick his tongue down Luca's mouth, and Virgilio pretended to be drunk to touch Romolo's ass, whom he said he'd forgotten, but Giuda knew that was bullshit.

Because he, being a chronic liar, could basically smell the lies.

In fact, not even for a second did he let anyone remotely suspect of his mind-blowing crush on the psychologist, especially the above mentioned, given that he was probably now convinced he hated his guts.

Which was the intention of the Venetian, since he took for granted that the thirty-year-old was far beyond what someone like him could afford.

After the disastrous relationship with one of his university buddies, Giuda indeed decided that being single was far better than being heartbroken.

Even though his heart wasn't too good.

Treating Emilio badly was making him lose sleep, at times he risked forgetting to put on his contact lenses due to tiredness, and even Virgilio took the piss out of him for the bags under his eyes.

And now he was there. Gloves in one hand and a broom in the other.

With Remo looking at him with a Cheshire Cat's smile on his face.

"You little snake. I get it, you know? You like the Veronese."

"You're speaking nonsense. I’d rather kill him right now. I dropped the glasses because of him."

"Don’t fuck with me. Tommy and I yell at you all the time and you’ve never jumped like this. Yo, Coso [10], I can smell lies too, you're not the only one. You’re being a little shit because you like him."

Giuda kept looking the bar owner in the eye, trying to deny it with all of his body language.

"I. Don't. Like. Emilio. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but Mr. Psychoanalysis isn’t exactly my cup of tea, okay?"

"Giuda..."

There was something in Remo’s voice, something that for a moment opened a breach in the Venetian's heart.

Maybe... Maybe he could trust someone.

"...From the first day he walked in here. You all got over it. But me? Never. I don’t have a crush on Emilio, Remo. I’m in love with Emilio. But I’ve suffered enough in the past to know that I’m better off alone. What if it goes wrong? How am I gonna look at him? How...?"

"You don't know that. I mean, I don't know either even if I live with him, how can you, if you run away every time you see him?"

"I personally believe that what you don’t know can’t hurt you."

"If Luca were here he would scream 'Boiate' [11]. Giuda... I..."

"Welp. It's too late now, the damage is done, right? He’s probably convinced I hate him even more after today's crap."

With a bitter laugh, Giuda surpassed the roman, continuing:

"I blew every chance, amen..."

"Giuda."

"But surely he won’t stop coming, we’re his favorite bar and you’re his roommate..."

"Giuda, shut up."

"I'm sure he'll find someone else pretty quickly, he just needs to breathe and someone always comes along."

"Giuda!"

The dishwasher turned again towards Remo, biting his lip as the stupid tears began to stream down his face.

"I can’t do this, okay? After Mattia, I don’t know what to do, with a man. Besides, I’m kind of a mess. Emilio will never appreciate someone like me."

Remo remained silent for a moment, before moving forward... and hugging? Giuda.

The Venetian was baffled, usually it was Tommaso, the one with whom he sometimes allowed himself affectionate gestures.

"Shut your mouth, you’re not that bad. And I swear on Totti [12], I’ll help you get the therapist, whether you want it or not."

Giuda laughed bitterly, his face stuck in the chest of his tallest peer.

"Yeah, sure. And how are you gonna do that?"

Remo let him go and asked, very seriously:

"Do you know how to play briscola [13]?"

[1]: transl. "I'm fucked" [2]: "Holy crap" + Pati = a nickname for Patrizio [3]: this is a pun with Romolo and Remo's surname, "Stella" = "Star", that here is referred as "Stellina/Stelline" = "Little Star/Little Stars" [4]: a nickname for Giuda, a diminutive of his name [5]: a Romanesco dialect exclamation that means more or less "Hey, guys!" [6]: it's a pun with Giuda's surname, Schiavon, that in italian, without the "n" at the end, is "Schiavo" = "Slave" [7]: it's a Venetian saying that literally means "on land, on sea, San Marco", but more broadly it means the power of the Venice Republic that reigned both on the land and on the sea [8]: "Good heavens, a Venetian! Niiice!" [9]: "What can I do to have a good glass of wine around here?"; in Venetian dialect, "ombra" means both "shadow" and "glass of wine" [10]: "coso" is the italian version of "thingy" and/or "dude/dingus" [11]: yes, "boiate" is the italian term for "falsehood", in this case [12]: a famous Italian soccer player, specifically from Rome [13]: a very popular Italian card game

1 - 2 - ?

see ya next time, ciao!

Quando Emilio Picani entrava al Dolce&Remì, tutte le teste si giravano. E quando tutte le teste si giravano, l'unico istinto di Giuda Schiavon era di girarsi dalla parte opposta. 

Per evitare di implodere.

Nel momento esatto in cui il giovane aveva oltrepassato la soglia, Giuda aveva capito che era lui il famoso "cugino psicologo" di Patrizio. 

E nel momento esatto in cui aveva visto il suo volto, solo una frase gli aveva rimbombato nel cervello:

- Sò ciavà.-

Il nuovo arrivato si era seduto al bancone, Remo che sembrava illuminato d'immenso, e Romolo che sembrava stesse per avere un infarto.

"Patrì. Ma stiamo a scherzare? Ce lo dovevi minimo minimo dire che tuo cugino era così bello!"

"Ma cosa stai dicendo, Romolo? Mo' dai guarda, che lo metti in imbarazzo!”

"Orco can Pati, stai calmo! Guarda che ci vuole molto di più per imbarazzarmi." aveva risposto il diretto interessato, scoccando un sorriso benevolo a Romolo, che si era limitato a ridere come una dodicenne.

- Ben ciò, perché mi mancava la competizione con la Stellina.- 

Giuda aveva lanciato uno sguardo a Remo, che stava strofinando lo stesso bicchiere da tre minuti. 

-Ah beo. Entrambe, le Stelline.-

E si era limitato a guardare il nuovo arrivato da dietro il bancone, attraverso lo specchio davanti al quale erano sistemati gli alcolici. 

Ovviamente entrambi i gemelli erano già partiti all'attacco, e Virgilio e Luca si limitavano a guardarlo con lo sguardo di due leoni affamati. 

Ovviamente, Patrizio si era accorto degli sguardi che il trentino lanciava al proprio consanguineo, e Giuda aveva scosso la testa vedendo i suoi occhi velarsi un po’.

- Se finisco anche io così mi do fuoco.-

"Sei silenzioso, Giudino." Aveva cinguettato Tommaso, l'unico a sembrare immune al fascino del nuovo arrivato. 

Giuda si era limitato a sorridere sornione, indicando il gruppetto alle sue spalle con un cenno del capo.

"Mi sto godendo gli avvoltoi."

"PFFFF sono tremendiii!" Aveva sussurrato il pasticciere mordendosi il labbro dal ridere, cosa che aveva fatto sorridere ulteriormente Giuda che quindi aveva continuato:

"Sembra non vedano un uomo da millenni eh. Veramente. E Patrizio ha la faccia di uno che si è pentito a sbrega."

"A cosa?

"Pentito molto. Devo insegnarti il veneziano prima o poi, Boss." 

Tommaso aveva annuito, e Giuda aveva deciso di mettersi sulla difensiva ancora prima che qualcuno potesse partire all'attacco.

"Che poi... Neanche fosse così figo. Bellino eh. Ma insomma, da far andare fuori di testa tutti e quattro?"

Tommaso aveva annuito, facendo spallucce. 

"Ti do ragione. E spero che a Luca questa cosa passi presto prima che Patrizio faccia una strage."

"Patrizio dovrebbe anche darsi una mossa però eh, Luca è troppo impedito per accorgersi di quanto stia sbavando come una lumaca. Se non si muove finisce che se lo prende qualcun altro e ti ricordo che l'ultima volta è andato di sbronza triste."

"Non ricordamelo, ti prego..."

"Ao, regà!" Remo era arrivato di soppiatto e li aveva presi entrambi sottobraccio, sorridendo come lo scemo che era.

"Venite a conoscere il nuovo arrivato!"

- Oh, no, ti prego.- 

"Capo fammi almeno togliere i guanti da piatti!"

"No no, li devi tenè, voglio che capisca chi comanda!" Aveva riso il maggiore dei gemelli Stella alla richiesta del suo lavapiatti. 

Maledetto.

Con un movimento degno dei peggiori ubriachi di Caracas, aveva portato Tommaso e Giuda al cospetto del nuovo arrivato, che aveva addosso un sorriso capace di sciogliere il cuore di Giuda in un istante.

E lo aveva fatto.

"Emilio, ecco il mio socio e pasticcere Tommaso Sandero, e il mio lavapiatti tuttofare quello-che-vuoi, Giuda."

"Ho un cognome anche io sai, vecchio." con un eyerolling degno di una star holliwoodiana, Giuda si era voltato verso Emilio. 

Merda, era ancora più bello, da vicino.

"Giuda Schiavon. Ti darei la mano ma ho i guanti."

"Schiavon?" Aveva chiesto Emilio illuminandosi. 

Ma quanto poteva essere bello un essere umano? Ma era legale?

"Ahah, si chiama Schiavon. Il che è perfetto visto che è il nostro..." Aveva iniziato Remo, ma Emilio aveva stretto le mani davanti al viso con aria sognante ed aveva chiesto, interrompendolo:

"Ma sei veneto anche tu? Io sono di Verona!"

Giuda si era limitato a fare spallucce, annuendo subito dopo.

"Par tera, par mar, Sammarco."

"Can del porco un Venexian! Beaaa!" 

Detto questo, si era avvicinato facendo finta di parlare in gran segreto - cosa impossibile visto che tutti lo stavano ancora fissando come se fosse una cosa meravigliosa, tranne forse Romolo che stava guardando proprio Giuda come se fosse la peggiore delle cose mai capitate a questo mondo:

"Cossa go da far pa aver na bona ombra de vin qua?" 

Stava cercando di parlare in veneziano? 

Ma c'era un limite a quanto potesse essere carino?

"Domandarghe a Remo. Io lavo i bicchieri, non li riempio mica." 

Detto questo si era girato verso il titolare, compiendo uno sforzo sovrumano per distogliere lo sguardo da Emilio, che sembrava parecchio abbacchiato dalla risposta.

"Posso tornare di là? Devo andare in cucina a finire i piatti prima che arrivi altra gente per l'happy hour." 

Si era quindi girato di nuovo verso Emilio, facendogli un cenno di saluto con un mezzo sorriso.

"Conterraneo, buona permanenza a Bologna."

E se n'era andato, senza lasciargli il tempo di rispondere.

*

Erano passati tre anni, da quel loro primo incontro. 

Tre anni nei quali Romolo aveva fatto il più divertente degli epic fail con Emilio, nei quali Patrizio si era deciso a ficcare la lingua in bocca a Luca, e Virgilio aveva fatto finta di essere ubriaco per toccare il culo di Romolo, che diceva di aver dimenticato, ma Giuda sapeva essere una balla. 

Perché lui, le balle, le subodorava, essendo un bugiardo cronico.

Infatti, nemmeno per un secondo aveva lasciato che qualcuno sospettasse minimamente della sua cotta allucinante per lo psicologo, specialmente il suddetto, visto che si era probabilmente ormai convinto di stargli sullo stomaco.  

Il che era l'intento del veneziano, visto che dava per scontato che il trentenne fosse ben oltre quello che uno come lui potesse permettersi. 

Dopo la disastrosa relazione col suo compagno di facoltà, Giuda aveva infatti deciso che single era decisamente meglio che col cuore a pezzi. 

Anche se il suo cuore non stava troppo bene. 

Trattare male Emilio gli stava facendo ormai perdere il sonno, a volte rischiava di dimenticare le lenti dalla stanchezza, e persino Virgilio lo prendeva per il culo per le occhiaie.

Ed ora era lì. I guanti in una mano ed una scopa nell'altra.

Con Remo che lo guardava con il sorriso dello Stregatto dipinto in faccia.

"A serpentino. L'ho capito eh. Te piace er veronese."

"Tu stai vaneggiando. Ora come ora lo ammazzerei. Ho fatto volare i bicchieri per colpa sua."

"Nun me piglià per il culo. Io e Tommy ti gridiamo contro in continuazione e non hai mai saltato così. Senti Coso, pure io le subodoro le stronzate, non sei mica l'unico. Fai il merda perché ti piace."

Giuda continuava a guardare il titolare negli occhi, cercando di negare con tutto il linguaggio del corpo.

"Non. Mi. Piace. Emilio. Non so cosa ti sei messo in testa, ma Mister Psicanalisi non è esattamente di mio gradimento okay?"

"Giuda..."

C'era qualcosa nel tono di Remo, qualcosa che per un attimo, aveva aperto una breccia nel cuore del veneziano. 

Forse... Forse poteva fidarsi, di qualcuno.

"...Dal primo giorno in cui è entrato qui dentro. A voi tutti è passata. Ma a me mai. Non ho una cotta per Emilio, Remo. Io sono innamorato, di Emilio. Ma ho sofferto abbastanza in passato da sapere che sto meglio da solo. E se poi va male? Con che faccia lo guardo? Come..."

"Non puoi saperlo. Voglio dire, non posso saperlo io che ci vivo assieme, come puoi farlo tu se scappi ogni volta che lo vedi?"

"Sono del parere che ciò che non sai non può farti del male."

"Fosse qua Luca urlerebbe 'Boiate'. Giuda... io..."

"Beh. Ormai il danno è fatto, no? Si sarà convinto che lo odio dopo la stronzata di oggi." 

Con una risata amara, Giuda aveva superato il romano, continuando: 

"Mi sono bruciato ogni possibilità, amen..."

"Giuda."

"... Però di sicuro mica smette di venire, siamo il suo bar preferito e tu sei il suo coinquilino..."

"Giuda piantala."

"Di sicuro troverà subito qualcuno, gli basta respirare e arriva sempre qualcuno..."

"Giuda!"

Il lavapiatti si era girato di nuovo verso Remo, mordendosi il labbro mentre le stupidissime lacrime iniziavano a scendere.

"Io non ce la posso fare okay? Dopo Mattia non so più come comportarmi, con un uomo. E poi sono un casino. Emilio non potrà mai apprezzare uno come me."

Remo era rimasto in silenzio per un attimo, prima di avanzare ed... abbracciare? Giuda. 

Il veneziano era basito, di solito era Tommaso, quello con cui a volte si permetteva gesti affettuosi.

"Ti devi de sta zitto. Non fai così schifo. E te lo giuro su Totti, io ti aiuterò a prenderti lo psicologo, che tu lo voglia o no." 

Giuda aveva riso amaramente, la faccia ficcata nel petto dell'altissimo coetaneo.

"Seh, vabbè. E come credi di fare?"

Remo lo aveva lasciato andare ed aveva sentenziato, serissimo.

"Sai giocare a briscola?"

[nevertherose]

Speaking of religious commentary...

Having watched pretty much every reaction video I could find to DWIT, and having read many theories…I’ve noticed that nobody has really touched much on the whole “religious commentary” part of the episode. But the more I watch it, the more I start to feel it’s almost THE most important aspect of the whole dilemma.

The first time I watched, honestly, the notion of character Thomas as a “religious man” made me immediately uncomfortable. My own experience with religion has been a multi-decade roller coaster of spending high school as a gung-ho Christian, going to college, having a religious crisis, dabbling in everything from Wicca to Buddhism, and then marrying a guy who works in a church. My personal beliefs have settled into a comfortable agnosticism with a bit of practical witchcraft thrown in. It’s given me what I feel is a fair, impartial view of religion in general…but anytime someone starts referring to themselves as religious, or talking about God or their beliefs, my hackles immediately go up. Because I immediately get scared that their faith means they hold beliefs that are radically different from mine, beliefs that at best I no longer relate to, or at worst have actively rejected as harmful.

Hearing Logan (embodiment of Logic) say, “You’re a religious man, are you not?” was like having a wall thrown up between me and these characters that I’ve come to love, and I did not like it. But once I got past that knee-jerk reaction (it took a few viewings, I’ll admit), I was blown away by how much more SENSE Thomas’ never-ending string of dilemmas made. Two separate Creativities, Virgil’s fear, Patton’s strictness and him not knowing what repression is, the Duke (a stinky bratty trash gremlin with the humor of a twelve year old) being scary, Deceit…I feel like literally all of it can be explained by the simple phrase: “Thomas’ Catholic upbringing”. 

I wasn’t brought up Catholic, but I was raised nominally Christian, and in high school I was heavily involved in a church youth group. I’ve been to a number of retreats and helped run a few of them. My husband finished seminary after we got married, and I read some of his textbooks. So when Logan says “thought is a precursor to action”, I know PRECISELY what he means. And even though he went on to talk about how five of the seven deadly sins are committed in your head, from what I’ve seen of the reaction videos and whatnot, I don’t think he made that point clearly enough.

Thought, in traditional Christian doctrine, is not JUST a precursor to action…it is EQUAL to action, and in some cases, MORE IMPORTANT.

What you do is not nearly as important as what you think/believe, because everybody sins (therefore your actions cannot save you). You can be the kindest, most generous, most compassionate person in the world, but according to traditional Christianity, if you don’t believe in Jesus, you are still hell-bound. On the other hand, a murderer can go to heaven if they merely really and truly “repent” and believe the right things with all their heart.

In other words, you can be divinely condemned for the things you think, regardless of whether or not you ever do them or even want to do them. (Although there’s actually some debate in doctrine over the importance of action vs thought is when it comes to salvation, but that’s another can of theological worms).

Growing up, I was quite familiar with verses like this:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart”

It’s very easy to see how a person would come away from a verse like that believing that thinking about something is exactly the same in God’s eyes as doing the thing. It’s no wonder, then, that character Thomas was so upset over his intrusive thoughts, so determined not to even think about or discuss them, and so upset when he learned that nothing he did would make them go away. It means he’s a sinner, a liar, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Remus, in that context, is pretty flipping scary: if Thomas wasn’t already a bad person, Remus wouldn’t exist...right??

In character Thomas’ mind, admitting to a bad thought is morally the same as admitting to a bad deed. He accepts this premise unconsciously, even as he tries to explain to his sides (and himself) that he’s not thinking these things on purpose, that he doesn’t like the thoughts, that he doesn’t want to do any of it. His Morality desperately wants him to somehow not be guilty, and his Anxiety is convinced he’s already guilty anyway. (Deceit really did nail their roles in his courtroom scenario).

“I can’t condone any more of that kind of thinking,” Patton says, because for him, the only morally acceptable solution to icky thoughts is to not think them. Anything else requires acknowledging said thoughts, and at that point, it’s too late…you have condemned yourself as thoroughly as if you had acted on them. Those thoughts can’t be Thomas, because Thomas does not want to be a bad person. (Remember “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re not”?). I think Patton’s whole “THAT’S what repression is??” realization in his episode is so important, because he’s finally able to put a name to what he does in his pursuit of Making Sure Thomas Is Good, and is forced to confront the reality that this thing he does is, in fact, BAD for Thomas.

“You thought those thoughts, Thomas,” Virgil says, and it lands like a guilty verdict from a jury because that’s exactly what it is. Virgil is terrified of Remus because his presence must mean there’s something wrong with Thomas, because bad thoughts = bad actions = bad person, and this isn’t something Virgil’s vigilance can shield him from.

I’ve noticed that Virgil has what I’d called two different “Anxiety Modes”: Virgil Acting As Anxiety, and Virgil Being Anxiety. Virgil Acting As Anxiety is pretty much all we saw before we learned his name, when Virgil was still a villain. It’s the snarky, edgy, occasionally outright insulting, “I’m cynical and sarcastic and I don’t care” attitude. It’s the one we see now in those almost affectionate bursts of “okay, guess I’m gonna have to kick in here”, “ugh, I can’t believe I’m the one corralling you guys” “I’m listeniiiiiing”, finger guns, etc. This is Virgil behaving how he believes Anxiety is supposed to function. He’s just doing his job.

(I actually think it was this mode that got Thomas and the others out of Anxiety’s room. Virgil knows how anxiety works and uses this knowledge to help Thomas).

Virgil Being Anxiety is very different. This is Virgil when he’s actually scared or anxious or freaked out because of something that’s happening with Thomas. I feel like this is true Anxiety; this is character Thomas’ anxiety when he allows it to “get to him”…when instead of being able to realize what’s happening and respond with, “Virgil, stop it”, he and Virgil get into a feedback loop of “oh shit oh shit oh shit…” until one of the others (usually Logan) can break them out. We saw this in Moving On, when Virgil was silently freaking out in Patton’s room and then the whole scenario with the phone call. That’s when the Tempest Tongue comes out involuntarily. I feel like this is when Virgil himself is faced with his own vulnerabilities (like when Roman gets real quiet and serious after reigning in his ego or creativity, or Logan having to acknowledge a point someone else made, or Patton in DWIT realizing that he’s being too strict). I also think Virgil really, really hates to be faced with his own shortcomings as Anxiety, because he is reminded that Thomas used to hate him and repress him for (perhaps) good reason.

When Virgil is Acting As Anxiety, he is in control, he can choose to work with Thomas and be a helpful rather than a harmful presence. I think the whole Accepting Anxiety arc was about Virgil choosing to harness this particular side of his role, and I think we saw the culmination of that in Embarrassing Phases. “I still have the ability to be harmful, but I have chosen not to be.”

What I believe we’re starting to see now is Virgil feeling open and trusted enough in the group to come to terms with the fact that sometimes he IS anxiety, that he is vulnerable as anxiety, and that sometimes he can hurt Thomas despite all his good intentions simply because of what he is.

(I also think that’s why the others are so very, very careful to not call Virgil paranoid. Almost any other insult, he could brush off as “yeah, whatever, my job and all”, but “paranoid” (and to a lesser extend “defeatist”) hits a little too close to his heart and they know it. Those are things he sometimes is and can’t help, can’t stop, can’t protect against.)

What Virgil needs to internalize is that ANY side, “light” or “dark”, has the ability to hurt character Thomas just by doing what comes naturally to them. That’s why I think it was so important for Virgil to witness Logan gently taking Patton down a peg. Patton is almost literally the embodiment of all that is good and innocent within Thomas…for Virgil to see that even Patton can inadvertently go too far…for  Logan, the arguably most trustworthy character, to point out, “You are wrong, and that’s okay, and WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT”…that’s was the push that made him tell Thomas he was a dark side.

Character Thomas, of course, has a long way to go in breaking free of his black and white thinking, and Virgil’s confession will probably play a huge role in that. But to a lesser extent, I think character Thomas (and all the Sides) have been on a journey in learning to stop blaming themselves for things that aren’t their fault. And I think that tendency stems directly from being brought up in a belief system that claims God will absolutely condemn you for things that aren’t your fault (original sin, being gay, thinking bad things, etc). I honestly don’t think that’s what Christianity means to do, but it IS a common side effect and it DOES fuck with your head. For your own peace of mind, you have to break through that kind of thinking.

Thomas has anxiety and that’s okay. Thomas is allowed to feel sad, and discouraged, and unmotivated at times, and that’s okay. Thomas sometimes thinks icky thoughts and that’s okay. Patton can’t always be happy and that’s okay. Roman gets insecure and that’s okay. Logan gets impatient with feelings related things and that’s okay. Virgil can’t always control his anxiety and that’s okay. Virgil used to be a dark side and that’s okay.

As Logan said, “Everything is okay”.

[kingsnara]

hello folks I’m using this dumb stupid idiotic app to vent again so be warned:

lately I’ve just felt the to rant about the intersections of being both Christian and also part of a marginalized group, yet again. this time, it’s for the fatties! i know this is a little weird but I didn’t feel as if I could get this off my chest anywhere else :///

I feel dumb and maybe as if I’m reaching for talking about this but I feel like we need to open up discussion about it - there are few places that I’ve experienced as much implicit anti-fat bias than in Christian communities. existing as a fat Christian will get you looked at as gluttonous, lazy, and a spiritual problem to be fixed. to thin and even other fat christians who hold these beliefs, it’s like I’m somehow lacking in my faith for being fat and “not doing anything about it”. constant comparisons are drawn between repentance and self-control and all that jazz and weight loss. it’s like they’re one and the same. for a community that claims that God doesn’t care about our outward appearance, we sure tend not to reflect that.

secular diet culture already does all these same things that Christian diet culture does, of course, but the religious aspect of it all really ramps it up and gives thin people a new plane on which to judge fat people and it’s fkin aggravating for me. I’m only a size 14, so it also must be aggravating for people larger than me because the miccroaggressions I experience as a smaller plus size person probably can’t even begin to compare to their struggle. Christian and non-Christian thiccies alike, no matter your size, I’m just here to say that you are valid and loved by God. periodt.

anyways, that’s sort of my rant. don’t know how coherent it is. hopefully someone can relate and I’m not crazy for this? lemme know!

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 10 - Candy Part 1 again

I was told that finishing the epilogue MAY make me feel better by some with opinions, with some vague hints that the ridiculous start of Candy may have underlying reasons, so now that I’m awake again (though my stomach is roiling a bit again) I’m gonna take another crack at it.

Alright, so I was also hinted that this Candy part ends with a different cliffhanger, so maybe those two will cancel out?  That’s my hope anyway.

Reading page 1 again since I didn’t finish the very tail end of it... alright, so WHY IS ROXY CRYING again????  Was she just PRETENDING that she didn’t know it might turn out bad for John if he went at the end of the last one?  Was there some weird mind-rewriting going on?  Is the crying a symptom of this whole thing potentially being an our!Callie fanfic and she knows what’s being dodged??  Don’t know.

Alright, let’s have him save Gamzee and... is Vriska going to get saved in this version?  Or is that descent into the black hole without seeing what happens her well-deserved comeuppance while only the ghost version of Vriska truly figured out how to be happy?

==>

Dirk acknowledges him when he zaps back, but it’s YOUNG Dirk so hopefully there isn’t any stupid Meat stuff going on.

...Yeah, Gamzee immediately being repentant is weird as shit.  Maybe he Chucklevoodoo’d Callie into escaping him into this whole candied mess so he could start shit, I dunno.  That or this isn’t really Gamzee or someone’s manipulating him or etc etc etc.  The hint I got earlier was that if I thought Calliope wanting to bring Gamzee back and everyone just rolling with it was a little out of character, there are “reasons”, so I’m just going through all of this under the assumption that some emotion-manipulating weirdness is going on regardless.

Oh shit, Gamzee’s going to start recounting his character reasons for doing bad stuff in a surface-hope of justification and understanding.  All the characters immediately recognize how painfully groanworthy this is going to be.

GAMZEE: AnD sUcH iS wHy I’m GrAbBiNg HoLd Of My RePeNtAnCe As FiRm AnD sErIoUs As I wOuLd A wHoRe’S tItTy!

Yeah, that really encapsulates how “serious” all of this is.  And of course, John’s not having any of it.

Yeah, Terezi wouldn’t have any of it either, remotely.

Something feels different, but he can’t put his finger on it.

Hm.  The aforementioned manipulation-weirdness?

==>

Okay, so it’s kind of Dirk who notices something different and is cancelling his stupid villain plans, got it.

Volatility of causality, huh?

(I’m going to be going through these parts a little faster than the Meat section, unsurprisingly.)

==>

Okay, Rose and Kanaya, are we gonna cure her substance abuse or--

With all the distance between them lately,

God damnit, have Dirk’s manipulations extended that far OFFSCREEN or is this legitimate character distancing???? Because either is BAD.  >:(

Right, now that the plot and “relevance” has been sidelined over to a different timeline, Rose can now breathe easy free of her condition.  And whichever parts of her condition were, perhaps, IMPOSED on her.  Fuck.

I’m going to try my fucking best to cling to this, hope I can carry on a memory after this is over that DOESN’T imagine Rose trapped in a fucking existential dying villain coma with a hard fucking cutoff that promises nothing is ever coming to resolve it ever.  (Or Jade in a somewhat-similar sidelined situation, or Jane doomed to fuck herself over and everyone else too, or...)

What’s slipping away instead is the feeling that any of it mattered at all. Was she insane to be so consumed by such lofty concerns, and is she only beginning to experience clarity today, for the first time in ages?

Yeah, you’re no longer in a timeline of Light and relevance.  And that’s not so bad, which is something you never expected to be true given your derision of the concept.  Void is pretty goddamn alright.

--Oh right, the illness and substance abuse probably caused plenty of distance between them.

KANAYA: There Was A Feeling I Couldnt Shake That Something Terrible Was Going To Happen To Us KANAYA: Something That Neither Of Us Could Stop KANAYA: A Powerful Outside Force That Would Take You Away From Me KANAYA: And I Couldnt Stop Myself From Thinking That Maybe KANAYA: Maybe That It Would Be For The Best ROSE: Kanaya... KANAYA: I Can Now See That This Is Completely Ridiculous

For some reason, this doesn’t settle my stomach much?  It’s clear Andrew wove this in here so that if you read Meat first, you’d be able to acknowledge readily how this diverged in a way the characters kind of recognize, and... I’m not sure what I’m even saying.  It’s like there’s hope that this is TRYING to take the bad taste out of my mouth, but I don’t believe it overly much.

ROSE: What a relief, considering that we are both going to be young and magically fit literally forever.

Wait, so they DID find a way to extend their non-ascended friends’ lifespans to practical immortality?  Jane’s Life powers?  Something else?

==>

yay jade.  more extended dave metaphors.  calm down stomach.

JADE: i never thought id be thinking of you as my weird nerd friend by the time we were in our twenties

Heheheh.

DAVE: yeah well i never thought youd be like the premiere woo girl on the planet

Had to look up what a “woo girl” was.

Yes Jade go flirt them to death

What she’s planning isn’t a seduction. It’s a public service.

Pff

(And yeah, she’s being pushy but at least she doesn’t go DIRK FAR about it.)

DAVE: its incredible hes driven at least ten people off the site by creating thinly veiled parody accounts of their usernames

Oh my gosh, Karkat’s good enough to ANDREW HUSSIE them?!???  :D

That’s incredible.

Karkat knows damned well what a husband is. He’s been force-fed enough bad movies from Dave to pick up any human euphemism you could name. He still plays dumb sometimes, for comedic effect, to irritate his friends, or simply to avoid a topic of conversation altogether.

Yeah, it was always pretty clear that about HALF of the trolls pretended not to understand something human that they knew about just for comedic effect and they knew it.  :)

It would be pretty easy to mistake his reaction for arousal, so it’s understandable that Jade is extremely surprised when Karkat snaps his jaw shut and chomps down on her hand.

PFFFFHahahahah :D

And yep, Jane cancelled her run at Dirk’s direction.

DAVE: lets all just thank whichever christ was responsible for making whatever decision resulted in her deciding not to do that

*nod nod*

JADE: well i hope she gets a better hobby JADE: there are a lot of less ominous things she could do with her time KARKAT: WHAT, LIKE FUCKING HER WAY THROUGH HALF THE POPULATION OF EARTH C?

Jade pinches his ear and twists hard, smiling pleasantly.

JADE: get fucked karkat

Yeah, this is about the level of violence/threat I’d expect from Jade when anyone slut-shames her for perfectly acceptable behavior.

==>

There is almost no crime on Earth C, and so almost no one locks their door.

Huh.  I guess post-scarcity might do that.

Alright, we get to see Jane being less of a fuckass.

Dirk was the one person on Earth C who took the state of the locksmith industry with the seriousness it deserved.

Pffff

JAKE: Thats my theory at least. Maybe its tommyrot but i have faith that dirk will be back. After all where is he going to go?

Good question that wasn’t answered in Meat, so of course Jake says it here obliviously.

JAKE: I must admit i am rather half rats at the moment. JANE: You’re what? JAKE: Haha sorry that was a pretty obtuse way of putting it wasnt it. JAKE: What i mean to say is that ive been powdering my hair quite a bit today.

Andrew is SO good at making Jake sound completely incomprehensible.

...Ouch, Jane, don’t drink so hard! D:

The “morbs”??

JAKE: Dirk has that manner about him does he not? JAKE: A way about him that makes you feel like whatever you do as long as it does not involve him it doesnt count for dick.

Yeah, fuck Dirk.

Hm... is the absence of relevance affecting them, or some other manipulation? It’s not just the LACK of Dirk’s manipulation.

JAKE: Except of course for that time when you were under mind control and had me trussed up in your lair as you pontificated villainously about using me as a breeding stud to create a blood lineage for your incumbent corporate space empire.

A fate Dirk seems to agree with, judging by Meat.  Let’s sidestep that fucking entirely, thank you.

...yeah, I didn’t expect Jake’s response to be any less oblivious than exactly that.

==>

So why DID Callie bring Gamzee back, anyway?  Is there some secret use for him in mind?  Was she manipulated into it?  Maybe BY Gamzee?  Hm.

...alright, priestly with followings.  That ain’t good.  Is he aiming for Clown President MK2?

Everything Callie and Roxy have done and said in this Candy section so far seems creepily contrived, possibly by design.

...okay did they have some kind of weird agreement? Like, “okay John is gonna make his choice, and if he chooses to stay i try dating him instead of you, Callie”???  That’s... no that can’t be it.  Roxy’s NEVER acted THIS oblivious before.  What’s she playing at?

GAMZEE: mY fUcKiN *gUy*. :o) JOHN: ... GAMZEE: My DuDe AnD mY nInJa AlIkE. GAMZEE: mY *hOrN* dOoOoG. JOHN: ... GAMZEE: mY hOrN tO tHa MoThErFuCkIn DoG. ;o) JOHN: waiter! help!

I’m imagining Gamzee now as a sweaty and homeless, unkempt Guy Fieri.

Yeah, this doesn’t look like it’ll be fun.

==>

...Swifer Eggmop.  ¬_¬”

There’s a third member of their social group who definitely hasn’t arrived at the conclusion that his power and influence should be meted out responsibly either. Neither of them speak his name, however. For some reason, it feels like a shadow passing over the sun. A brief spike of pain flickers through Rose’s head, a bolt that strikes between her eyes and splinters out. There is color and light behind it. A vision that tears through the material reality in front of her and gives her a brief glimpse into a parallel reality where things are very different.

Yeah, fuck Dirk.

...Pff. Yeah, Rose WOULD mimic the record-scratch gesture.

Don’t invoke “never seeing Vriska again” like that, you’re really tempting fate.

Heh, Rose is finding some Light in the darkness, wanting to do something that’s meaningful on an expressive level with this Vriskgrub business.

Hm... why is my stomach a little less uneasy?

I sure hope it stays that way.

==>

KARKAT: OH MY GOD, ARE THE MECHANICAL GLUTES ON THAT BILLBOARD ACTUALLY PADDED WITH PLUSH TO MAKE THEM MORE LIFELIKE?

Heck Yes

...Yes, touch the butt, Karkat.

Jade, pouting a bit, glides in between them and uses her Space powers to teleport Dave’s phone out from the center of his traumatized palm and into the pocket of her sweater.

Hm!  So she still has teleportation abilities over a limited range even without her Green Sun boost, that’s nice.  :D

After all, where would these two pitiful beta boys be without her?

Oh my fucking god stop being Dirk, Jade.  And never use that narrative language again, even in your head.  Heck, even if Dirk’s the one WRITING this still, don’t even think CLOSE enough to think those words.

...yeah this sounds like an Active player class taking things slightly too far.

Thank you, Karkat, for drawing the consent-line in the sand.  Looks like Jade’s backing off a little.

--hold on, wait, Dave kissed him? He did, so why is-- let me read back up--

Dave doesn’t answer. She answers for him by leaning down and planting a dry, affectionate kiss on Karkat’s cheek.

Okay I misread this line earlier.  Jade kissed Karkat when neither of them were looking and is BLAMING Dave.  Hmm.

Alright, Dave ollies outie.  Karkat tumbles down some hillstairs.

Jade could probably catch him. Actually, she could easily do it, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of favor you should do in a fledgling kismesissitude.

Thaaaat’s a little presumptuous??

JADE: well i guess im eating grub spaghetti alone JADE: *again*!!!

:C

I’d be sadder if you didn’t bring it down hard upon yourself but

:C

==>

Yeah, John, better clear up this Callie business because it’s muddy as heck why Roxy would just drop everything to try things out with you.

Ah, we’re bringing up the gender identity thing on this side too, hm?

More serious talk, this is good, reading reading...

The glasses clink together clumsily, and water gets all over the complimentary breadsticks.

Oh no.  This had better not be Olive Garden.

ROXY: no one else has ever made me feel like this

--not Calliope???

What the heck is even going on.

Dave’s coming for some bro help it looks like.

==>

It’s hilarious how much Dave is freaking out about this, and how completely in-character it is.

JOHN: holy fucking shit. JOHN: there’s a gay snooze button? DAVE: yeah man theres a gay snooze button JOHN: wow.

I love these two’s conversations

......wait, Dave’s been holding off on kissing Karkat because of what he thinks JADE might think???? D:

JOHN: i almost managed to forget that she was trying to fuck you and karkat.

Pfffffffff  :D

Yep.  I love it being put so bluntly.

Reading on... yeah, for some reason I also always figured that the end result of a nice three-way relationship between those three people would be Jade and Dave essentially both just glomming onto Karkat more than each other?  Hm.

JOHN: i mean... it doesn’t sound... JOHN: *canon*?

...I hope you’re just talking about his coin flip explanation and not DaveKatJade.  >:(

John wonders when talking to Dirk has fixed anything for anyone.

Nod nod.

She grins up at John with shimmering, adoring eyes. They’re reflecting every star in the sky, all for him.

Seriously, what the hell.  Is Roxy hypnotized?  Putting on an act?  A voidy act??

I’m not doubting that Roxy COULD feel that way about John, I’m doubting the suddenness and the way Calliope is being deliberately ignored in the situation, which is so goddamn obvious that JOHN is uncomfortable about it.  There’s something seriously strange going on.

It itches at the back of his head, the idea that he might have just fucked up Dave’s entire life.

D:

Alright next post after a bit of breakfast.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Ladybird, Ladybird

[Ficlet set during The Beginning, more or less canon-compliant.  Title from the children’s rhyme.]

For the first time after the war, Jean has a good dream about Tom.  Nothing special or particular, just a dream of lying in out on the sun-soaked lawn on a Saturday morning with her chubby six-year-old pushed up against her body, wiggly and snuggly.  No day in particular, she doesn’t think.  Just an aggregate: memory, imagination, longing.

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home...” he sings in her dream, pulling petals from a flower one by one.  Jean doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s doing it wrong.

For a long time the dreams were of him crying out somewhere Jean couldn’t reach to help.  It wasn’t hard to figure out what those dreams meant.  They started too late, but they warn her anyway.  That her little boy was hurt.  That he was in pain.  That even as he sat across the kitchen table with the corners of his mouth pulled into a smile, he was begging her for help so loudly that the black thing inside him had to hurt him just to shut him up.

Mommy, I’m hurt.  Mommy, I’m scared.  Help me, Mommy.

And Jean didn’t hear, back then.  She didn’t know.  She couldn’t fling herself halfway out of bed the way she did the other night.  Half-asleep, half-frantic, murmuring to Steve, “Just gotta check on the boys—”  Before she remembers.  That Tom is dead.  That Jake...

Jake doesn’t need her help anymore.

Anyway, Jean wakes gently this time.  And she thinks maybe this is the first sign of healing.  That maybe she’s crested to that place where the memories become treasures rather than shards.  She’s heard that can happen, from her counseling group.

The dream was still sad, of course.  The memory of it, slanting gold sun over Tom’s tiny fists and dark curls, awakes an emptiness inside her.  It probably always will.

Because that’s what grief is: a thousand shades of regret.  Sometimes even regret for the regret.  “I just want to stop feeling this way,” Jean told her therapist once, before slamming her hand over her mouth too late to keep the words inside.

It’s been almost two years.  Maybe it’s time for it to start to hurt less.

“Jeannie?  You all right?”  Steve sits up next to her now, fumbles to slide his glasses on so that he can make out her expression.

“Sure.”  She presses a hand to her face, unsurprised to find last night’s salt tracks painted on her cheeks.  “Sure, honey.  I’ll get breakfast going, yeah?  You get Jake up this time.”

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

There are four chairs at their kitchen table, still.  Again, Jean reaches down four plates before breakfast.  Again, she finds she lacks the strength to lift and put the extra one back.

It sits there on the counter, more often than not, a silent testimony throughout their meals.

“Thanks, Mom,” her son’s murderer says.  He smiles up at her, mouth still full of pancake.  “These are really good.”

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

It was a mercy kill, according to the newspapers.  Or else, it was self-defense.  When feeling charitable, Jean thinks defense of an innocent life might apply.  But then, who’s innocent?  Tom was, when Rachel’s blow cut through his spine.

“That’s great, sweetheart,” Jean says, no inflection to her voice.

Jake sets the scrap of gilded aluminum on the mantelpiece and walks away.  It’s a Medal of Honor.

Apparently that’s the going price for fratricide, these days.

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

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,” Tom recites in her dreams.  He crouches over a blade of grass with the kind of intensity only a four-year-old can muster.  “Your house is on fire, your children all gone.  All but the little one, asleep in his bed.  Fly away now, before he is dead.”

I know, Jean thinks, when she wakes.  Baby, I know now.  It’s not enough, it’s too late.  But at least now she knows that all along her home did burn.

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

The rabbi speaks of the deaths of the firstborn.  How the Angel of Mercy came through Egypt, and took the eldest son from every home.  How that was what it took to be free.  How the Israelis had to learn to cling tight to what they had left, even when flung from their homes.

Jean doesn’t think of Passover, when she looks at Jake.  She doesn’t think of Teshuva.  She thinks of God asking after Abel: Where has your brother gone?  Thinks of how Cain had one last chance to repent and confess, and of how pride made him refuse.

Eve cast him out, after that happened.  She had no choice, really, with her baby’s blood crying out from the land.

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

There’s footage of her son’s death.  Footage, and everyone has seen it.  Jean only knows because her sister-in-law called to tell her.

Rage choked Naomi’s voice through the tears, that whole conversation.  “How dare they,” Naomi said.  “How dare those bastards think they can... they can...”

It was a mercy kill, CNN says, or it was love, or at least he tried.

Anyway, she’s not surprised that they dare.  That her coworkers, her greengrocer, her next-door neighbors have all watched her son die, somewhere between the weather and the six o’clock news.  It fits, given the way they look at her and then look away.

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

Jake gives her things all the time, these days.  He custom-orders a new lawn mower.  Slides million-dollar checks across the kitchen counter.  Sets a twenty-carat diamond gifted by the Queen of England into the hand-carved bowl for Jean’s car keys.

(Jean snatched the diamond out, the instant he left the room.  It’d felt like blasphemy; the letters T-O-M-M-Y carved on the underside of the bowl made it no place for such blood money.  She dropped the jewel in the trash, not knowing what else to do.)

Today it’s something new.  Today, Jake presses an envelope onto the table between her and Steve.  “It’s upstate a little ways,” he says.  “Santa Barbara.  You don’t have to move if you don’t want, but I paid it off in full, and I figured...”

Figured what, Jean would like to know.  Figured that they’d abandon their home, abandon its memories of Tom, in exchange for this latest guilt gift?

“Thanks, kiddo.”  Steve sounds like he means it, which hurts.  “This means a lot.”

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

Jean is running up the stairs before she consciously registers why.  It is daytime, and there was a noise from Tom’s room.  She’s awake.  But she heard the half-muffled sob, and it came from the empty bedroom at the end of the hall.

It’s the middle of the afternoon.  She’s not dreaming.  Her baby is calling out to her, and she can reach him.

When she wrenches the door open, she freezes.

Jake stands amidst the wreckage of Tom’s things.  A box sits at his feet, half filled with t-shirts and basketball trophies.  The tears on his face are fresh-flowing, badly muffled.

“What are you doing in here.”  Jean’s voice comes out hard-edged and cold.  And also: how dare you.  How dare you.

It was all arranged, exactly how it should be.  Clothes in the closet.  Gameboy in the desk drawer.  Bed made.  All his things where they belonged.

Jake moved it all.  Jake touched it.  Defiled it.  Ruined it.

“I was just...”  Jake swallows hard.  Rubs a hand over both cheeks.  He’s still got one of Tom’s sweatshirts in hand; how dare he.  “Just figured we could sort through all this, see what makes sense to keep when we move and what...”

“Get out.”  Jean doesn’t recognize the woman speaking with her voice.  All she knows is this: she’s giving it all up.  Motherhood has brought her nothing but pain.  It’s high time she relinquished it.  She will box up Tom’s things to donate or destroy.  She will make the call about what stays, and she will get rid of the things that need to go.

Starting with Tom’s killer.

“Get out,” she says again.

“Yeah.”  Jake takes a breath.  “Yeah.  Okay.  Sorry, I’ll let you finish up.”

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, she screams inside, when she realizes he doesn’t understand.  GET OUT OF MY LIFE.  “You’re eighteen,” she forces herself to say.  “It’s high time you found your own place.  And goodness knows you can afford it.  Your father and I will take the house in Santa Barbara.  You can find your own place.”

Something happens on Jake’s face then.  Something vulnerable breaks.  Stops being wounded, because now it is dead.

She’s ready, now.  To stop being Mom, to anyone or anything.  To box up her sons and throw them away.  To learn, all over, what it is to be Jean.  Jean with the potted plant on her desk.  Jean who leaves little presents for the sanitation workers.  Jean the writer.  Jean the wife.  Jean, herself and nothing else.  She’s done with pain.  Done with love.  Done with Mommy, help me.

It takes Jake less than a day to pack up and leave.  Neither of them explains it to Steve.

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

Fool, fool.  Your house is on fire.

It’s Steve who answers the door, when the cops’ hard knock shatters the quiet of their new kitchen.  Steve whose voice wavers as he says, “What do you mean, missing and presumed?”  Steve who whispers, “Thank you for taking the time.”

Steve who holds her, when the air leaves her body as a senseless scream of disbelief and pain.  When she rocks on the floor, moaning, whimpering, like a wounded animal.

Jean, you fool.  Fool, to think she could cut him out of her heart.  What a fool, to think she could ever not care.

Jake.  Jake.  Her baby boy.  Her clumsy, solemn, second child.  Her only son.

Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home, Steve once recorded Tom saying, his little voice lisping, the tape hissing.  All but the little one, asleep in his bed.  Fly away now—

But she never dreams about it again.  The warning only lasted while there was still time to warn her.

Instead she sleeps, and hears both their voices crying in the night.

[chasholidays]

this is our one and only joint promt! @ringmybellarke asked for a bodyswap AU and @la-la-lara asked for a Kimi no Na Wa AU, which, if you aren��t familiar, is also bodyswapping, so we’re filling those together.

I'm calling this canon divergence with grounder Bellamy, but I didn't want to actually deal with grounders or much that happened in canon, so it's the basic premise but there's nothing wrong with the air in the Ark and Bellamy isn't part of any of the grounder groups we know.

Clarke wakes up with an erection, which is exactly as alarming as it sounds, but somehow becomes a secondary concern as everything else about her situation starts to register. Her bed is firmer than it's supposed to be, the air warmer. The sun feels brighter, and there are sounds of people close by, sounds of--something else, too. Sounds she's never heard before in real life, sounds she doesn't have words for.

She opens her eyes to see an expanse of unidentified ground in front of her, much closer than the floor of her bedroom should be. When she pushes herself up, her arm is all wrong too, broad and tan and freckled, and that reminds her of the erection, which is still there, and she looks down at herself, finding a broad, bare chest, obviously male, and a bed made of coarse fabric and something like animal fur.

When she scrambles back, she finds the unfamiliar body is at least wearing shorts, but that's all, and the ground--ground, soil packed hard, or maybe clay, but either way--is cold and hard and a little more forgiving than the metal floor of the Ark.

"What the fuck," she says, her own voice rumbling through her throat, deep and unfamiliar.

"Bell, are you finally up?" someone calls. "It was your day to make breakfast, dick."

In books, people always think things like this are dreams, but the thought barely even registers as a real possibility to Clarke. Everything is too real, too immediate. If this is a dream, it's the most real dream she's ever had.

She pinches herself, once, just to get it out of the way, but when that doesn't work, she calls back, "Sorry, yeah! I'll be out in a minute!"

Even if it is somehow a dream, she can't wake herself up. All she can do is wait, investigate, and try to figure out what's going on and how to fix it.

From what Wells has said, morning erections are annoying but go away on their own, so Clarke ignores that whole issue and goes looking for clothing instead. She finds a wardrobe, an antique made of old, smooth wood, and in it clothing made of the same kind of materials as her bedding is. Some of it's thick and fairly complicated, but she finds the simplest shirt and trousers she can and pulls those on. There's no mirror, so she just inspects her outfit--probably fine--and runs her hands through her hair. It's thick and curly, a bit out of order, but she pats it down and hopes that's good enough.

The door goes straight outside into bright morning sunlight, and Clarke just stares for a minute, overwhelmed with the freshness of the air and the warmth of the sun and the trees stretching towards the sky. She's dreamed of the ground before but never like this, never so vividly, never with the smells and the tastes and--

"Took you long enough."

She looks down to see a girl sitting by a fire. She offers a bowl of something and Clarke accepts it, sitting down next to her cross-legged, only a little awkward with the unusual genitalia.

The girl is cute, maybe twelve or thirteen, with sharp eyes and long, brown hair in a complicated braid. She looks annoyed and expectant, and Clarke doesn't know what her line is, so she goes with, "Sorry I'm late. Overslept."

It's apparently the right thing to say. "I told you not to stay out so late."

"Sorry."

"You can stop apologizing, it's getting old. Just eat your breakfast and you're cooking tomorrow. I'll come wake you up, I don't care if you have someone in there."

"I didn't. Just tired."

"Whatever." She starts shoveling food into her mouth; Clarke follows suit, a little slower at first, but while the food isn't familiar, it is delicious, probably the best thing she's ever eaten, fresh and flavorful, tastes bursting on her tongue. Before she knows it, she's wolfing it down like she has't eaten in weeks.

"This is so good," she says. "What is it?"

It's a stupid thing to say, of course, and the girl gives her an odd look. "You made it."

"Oh, right."

"Are you okay?"

Clarke pastes on a smile. "Feeling kind of off. Didn't sleep well. Do I need to do anything important today?"

"How am I supposed to know?" she grumbles, but Clarke must be selling the off feeling, because she repents. "You told Tyr that you'd help with the garden, remember?"

"Right. Thanks."

She shakes her head. "Try drinking less." She drinks the remaining liquid in her bowl and sets it aside. "I cooked, you wash. See you tonight?"

"Have a good day," says Clarke, and the girl just waves over her shoulder as she goes.

Alone now, Clarke has the chance to really look around. She--or Bell, rather--seems to live in a small hut, one of several surrounding the fire pit where the girl was cooking. It seems to be the standard configuration for dwellings in the village. It seems to just be Bell and the girl in this group, which is odd too. She doesn't have a strong sense of how old Bell might be, but they seem young to be living alone. Could the girl be her daughter? Is Bell maybe a word for father? Or are they just friends? Orphans, maybe?

Fuck, what a mess.

There doesn't seem to be any plumbing, which means she has no idea where she's supposed to wash the breakfast dishes. But she sees some other people with what look like things to wash and follows them, at a fairly safe distance. If they're not going to the well or whatever else they use to clean things here, she can always say she was going somewhere else.

She's not sure where; she'll come up with something.

But the women leave the woods and make their way to a river, the water shining in the morning sunlight, so beautiful it nearly takes her breath away. She never dreamed it could look like this, that it could be like this.

She finds a spot on the shore, not too close to the women, and she's about to dip the bowl in when she suddenly catches sight of her own reflection in the water.

It's not like looking in a mirror, not really enough to get the whole picture, but she can make out a few features. Whoever she is, her hair is black and in some sort of order, and her eyes are dark.

She thinks she looks nice.

"There you are, Bellamy." An older woman sits down next to him, dipping her feet in the water. "Octavia said you were slacking on your cooking duties."

Bellamy. Bell for short. And the girl is Octavia.

"I overslept," she explains. "Out too late last night."

"You need more balance," she says, stretching down to dip her fingers in the water. "I know I said you work too hard, but you can't fix that by working just as hard as ever and throwing yourself into--" She makes a face like she's smelling something rotten. "Whatever it is you young people get up to."

Clarke smiles. "I was thinking about taking the day off, but I'm supposed to help with--" The words falter. For all she knows, this woman is Tyr, and Bellamy agreed to help with her garden.

Which must be the case, because the woman's expression softens. "It's not pressing to help with the garden, you know. If it wasn't for my back--"

"You know I'm happy to help."

"I know you are. And you know you don't owe me anything. You're family, it's my job to take care of you."

"It's my job to take care of you too," Clarke shoots back. She's got an idea of what Bellamy is like, one of those boys who treats his mother well but still likes fingering girls in dark corners at parties. She's hooked up with guys like that.

"Well, you can take care of me tomorrow. Today, you should take it easy."

On the Ark, she wouldn't manage it. She wouldn't be able to just take a day off from her responsibilities, and even if she'd been relieved, she would have found something productive to do.

On the ground, though, she doesn't know what her responsibilities are, and even if she did, she probably wouldn't know how to do them. The last thing she wants to do is screw up Bellamy's life. So she spends the day exploring, seeing all she can of the ground, trying to figure out if this is somehow, against all the odds, real. It doesn't make any sense, isn't even possible, but she can't convince herself it's just a dream. She can feel the chill of the running water, taste the food. There's bark under her fingers and clean air in her lungs.

It has to be real.

She eats dinner back in her own fire pit with Octavia. Her dinner is not up to Bellamy's usual standards, but apparently "I'm not feeling well today" is still an acceptable excuse for fucking up. Some of the other kids in town seem to expect her to come hang out with them, but she doesn't know if she can really pass for Bellamy , so she goes back to her own hut, jerks off mostly to see what it's like, and passes out.

The next morning, she wakes up in her own body and her own room, and through all the weirdness, only one thought emerges: they can live on the ground.

*

Over breakfast, she discovers Bellamy was in her body too, and she asks lightly probing questions to figure out if he did or said anything that she might need to know about, but he mostly seems to have made excuses as good as hers were. Her father covered for her some, and there's a part of her that wants to tell him, to see if he could help somehow, but it sounds so absurd. She wouldn't believe it herself, except that she can still feel the dirt under her fingers.

"Do you think anyone could have survived on Earth?" she asks Jake.

He frowns. "Through the apocalypse, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"If they did, they'd be in bad shape. Maybe not even--" He taps his jaw, thinking about the best way to explain. "It's possible, but if they're down there, they haven't gotten in touch. They're having no visible impact on the environment. Probably no technology. We'd have no way of knowing they existed."

That checks out with what Clarke experienced in the village. They didn't even seem aware of the tech Clarke takes for granted, the stuff they would have had on the ground before the nukes hit. There were repurposed parts around, antiques like Bellamy's closet, but no power at all.

"But they could be down there. The Earth could be survivable."

"In theory, for some people. Mutations exist," he explains. "You know that. The impact would have killed some people instantly, and the radiation would have gotten most of the survivors. But the ones who didn't die would have higher resistance, and they'd pass that on. Assuming the community was large and diverse enough, they could have had a few generations by now. But it's not that simple."

Clarke smiles. "That's simple?"

Jake waves her off; he's on a roll now. "The Earth hasn't exactly been stable all this time; it wasn't just one cataclysmic event. Even if there were survivor of the first blast, they might not have made it through the subsequent upheaval. That's part of why we don't want to go down."

"Like what?"

He rubs his jaw. "Why all the sudden interest in Earth?"

The temptation to tell him flares again. She could ask what she did yesterday, what else she said about the ground, explain where the her mind had been. But it's just so unbelievable. Even if he said he didn't argue with her, she wouldn't be surprised to be taken in for a psych evaluation. "I had a weird dream," she says. "It made me wonder if maybe--I guess I always just assumed there was nothing down there. That there couldn't be."

"Anything is possible," says Jake, and that does make her smile. He doesn't know the half of it.

"So, what else is wrong down there? What kinds of upheavals?"

"Nuclear reactors are still melting down. Our ancestors didn't know what to do with all the toxic waste they produced, and they were hoping we'd figure out how to deal with it. We monitor them, I remember a bad one in North America a few years back on the west coast that would have killed anyone living nearby."

"Except for people with particularly strong resistance."

"Depending on how close they were to the reactor."

"Do you think we'll ever make it down there?" she asks.

"Someday. Maybe not us."

"Maybe not," Clarke agrees, and the next morning, she's back on the ground.

*

The second day on Earth is easier. Clarke wakes up on time and figures out how to make breakfast for herself and Octavia. She finds the older woman, Tyr, and helps her with her garden. Clarke's not good at it, of course, but Tyr is unbothered, apparently just happy to have company, even when Clarke screws up. She manages to get some more information out of Tyr, too, putting together some of Bellamy's family tree. Octavia is his sister, of course, such a simple answer that Clarke never would have guessed in a thousand years. People have sisters here--Tyr, too, is Bellamy's grandfather's sister, who hasn't been taking care of Bellamy and Octavia after their mother died so much as just being around, present if they need her.

Once the gardening is done, Clarke jumps in the lake to clean off, and it's like nothing she's ever felt before, the full-body submersion, like she imagines zero-g, but with the press of water all around her, cool and refreshing and primal. Maybe she'll come back enough that she could feel rain. That would be something.

After dinner, she looks around Bellamy's room until she finds some thick parchment and a piece of charcoal. It's still possible on that second day that this will never happen again, but even if it doesn't, it can't hurt to send Bellamy a message. Just in case.

Bellamy,

I assume by now you know I'm Clarke Griffin. When I get back home, I'm going to write a list of things you should know about my life, in case this happens again. I hope you'll do the same for me. It can't hurt to be prepared.

Thanks in advance, Clarke

When she sits down to write the information out for Bellamy the next day, though, she finds herself struggling to sum up what he needs to know. In the end, she tries to think of every question she has about his life and answer it for her own. She explains what she knows of the apocalypse, how each of the stations was populated, how they joined together to form the Ark. She tells him about the formation and structure of the council, distribution of resources, how much she'd like him to avoid being arrested for anything. She outlines her daily schedule, makes lists of people she knows and how she relates to them, and lets him know he can ask any other questions he wants.

It feels a little silly, writing a note to a boy who may or may not be switching bodies with her, but it just makes sense. She's sure he's as confused as she is, and if it's happened twice, there's no reason to think it won't happen again. Maybe this will just be her life now, being half Clarke, half Bellamy.

Once she's done all that work, she does expect that nothing will happen, that putting everything down on paper will somehow have fixed it, but when she opens her eyes she sees the now-familiar roof of Bellamy's hut and sighs.

This is her life.

*

Bellamy is eighteen years old, and his mother died six months ago after a long illness. His sister is twelve and a handful, especially since their mother passed. His village is one of several in a loose alliance, which is in turn part of a larger coalition, but they're far away from other people and don't tend to socialize much. His father died when he was very young, and his sister's father died when she was very young, so he had to grow up fast, even with the support of the rest of the community. He likes history and has been taking advantage of the resources on the Ark to learn more about how it came to be, so a lot of her information will be redundant, but he probably won't mind. She'll have a different perspective.

Since his days are less structured than hers, he's given her a list of things things she can do without raising suspicions or injuring herself, as well as as breakdown of people he knows and what they might want to talk about. He's noted things he has to get done, would like to get done, and would like to avoid, and it makes Clarke smile, thinking of him putting all this together. She's never had a penpal, but she's heard the term before, and it feels a little like that. Albeit much, much stranger.

If you have time, you should also write a run-down of the highlights of your day, he adds, at the end of his letter. Anything I should know that you did, so it doesn't look like I forgot about it. I'll do the same for you. If this is going to keep happening, we should have each other's backs.

And that's what they do. It's an odd kind of relationship, by necessity, but being Bellamy somehow slots into Clarke's routine. She gets used to never waking up where she went to sleep, to cooking the recipes Bellamy leaves for her in the morning, going out to look for herbs he needs or helping with construction or whatever else. More than that, she's getting used to the feel of sunlight on her skin, the taste of fresh air in her lungs, to having the whole world at her fingertips.

She wants that to be her life so much she can taste it.

Do you know where you are on Earth? she writes him one night, and the next time she's in his body, he's responded, North America, west coast. Near the former US/Canada border. Why?

That afternoon, she consults the latest images they have of that part of the Earth, trying to figure out if their satellites have picked up any trace of civilization. They're not close to the ocean, so it would be inland a little, in the forest, maybe, but--

The whole area is brown and faded, dead in a way that makes Clarke's stomach turn. She's seen places like that on the map before, places that were hit by bombs, places that were destroyed beyond recognition, and that can't be right. She's been there, in that village, in that vibrant forest. She's drunk the clear water and breathed the clean air.

It can't be like that.

Did you ever look for the village on the Ark's satellites? she asks Bellamy that night.

I have now, he writes back. I asked your dad what happened to it, and he says a reactor melted down a few years back. The one "we" talked about, so I assume that means you. If you've got any ideas about what it means, I'm open to suggestions.

It's a lot to take in, early in the morning. Because there are really only a couple options, if she does believe that she and Bellamy are switching places, that all of this is real and true. Either Bellamy is wrong about where he lives, or he's right but he somehow doesn't live there anymore, or doesn't live there now. And that one honestly seems more likely, which is fucked up, but she's already switching bodies with someone. How much weirder is it if she's also traveling through time?

How many generations has it been for you since the bombs? she asks Bellamy, and he does a little drawing, tracing his mother's family back to the first one born after the bombs, his great-grandmother, five years after. It tracks roughly with Clarke's own timeline, but not so close he couldn't be a few years earlier.

What if you're about to be destroyed? she asks him.

How would we know? he writes back.

Clarke thinks about asking Jake, but it feels dangerous. He's an adult, and she still can't help thinking he won't believe her. She loves him, and she trusts him, but not with this.

"What are the stages of nuclear meltdown?" she asks Raven.

Raven's eyebrows go up. "How so?"

"If someone was living close to a nuclear reactor that was going to meltdown, how would they know? What are the warning signs?"

"I swear, you're just getting weirder."

Clarke and Raven aren't exactly close, not like she and Wells are, but Clarke kind of wants them to be. She'd had a crush for a while, but it passed, like crushes do when you don't do anything about them. But Raven is the smartest person she knows, with the broadest knowledge base. The best resource.

"I know. It's been a weird few weeks. Would there be illness? What?"

"Illness, plants and animals dying off, acid rain, probably. Seriously, why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Yeah? Try me."

She shouldn't, she really shouldn't. But she wants to. She's so tired of hiding a fucking miracle.

"I think I'm traveling through time and living half my life as a grounder boy who's about to die, and I want to save him."

Raven blinks a few times, fast, like she's rebooting. "What?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe me."

"Yeah, that's pretty unbelievable." She wets her lips, studies Clarke. "I need more information."

"Every other day, I'm someone else. Just in the last month or so. I don't know how it happened, but--I feel like I've been to the ground, Raven. Like I know what it's like. And he and I--we talk. We leave each other notes. I asked him where he lives, and it was destroyed when a reactor melted down a few years ago. So if it's real and I'm doing it--I have to know how to save him. Where he can go that's safe."

Raven just looks at her for a long moment. "Can I see the notes?" she finally asks.

It feels a little like betrayal, leading Raven back to her room and pulling the notepad out of its hiding place. But she's helping, isn't she? It's not as if Bellamy ever asked her to keep the notes safe. That was always her decision. If he wanted to tell his sister about her, that would be his call.

Raven scans through the journal, pages and pages of--conversation, really. Clarke and Bellamy discussing their days, their lives, their relationships. She's talked more to him than she has anyone else, this last much. She knows so much about him, without ever having seen his face completely.

"Either this is real or you're legitimately nuts," says Raven.

"Those are the two options, yeah."

"Okay, so--assuming you're not, I'm going to see this Bellamy guy tomorrow?"

"Talk to him, anyway. He'll still look like me."

She nods. "So, which reactor is it? Let's see if we can figure out how long he's got."

It's the oddest kind of collaboration, the three of them working together across time and space to try to save Bellamy's life, which might not even need saving. Maybe she's totally wrong about this, maybe he's in a parallel universe too, maybe he's farther in the past that she thinks, maybe the whole thing is just a big waste of time.

But if this is some kind of magic--and Clarke doesn't know what else it could be besides magic--then there must be a reason. And maybe the reason is that Bellamy and his village need saving, and Clarke can help them. Maybe that's why all this is happening.

"What's he like?" she asks Raven, late one night as they're mapping a route from the village to a fallout shelter that might be in good enough shape to keep everyone safe through the meltdown.

"Who, Bellamy?"

"Yeah."

"You talk to him more than I do."

"But I've never actually talked to him."

"Neither have I, I've just talked to you with someone else's brain." She shrugs. "What do you want me to tell you? He's smart and interesting and I don't want him to die either."

"Do you think it's safe for us to go to the ground?"

"Not yet. Not there, anyway. I'd give it another few years before the radiation has cleared out enough for the land to be safe again. Probably not arable, but they can get out of wherever they're hiding and move south in--" She clucks her tongue. "Three years. For us. I'd say five years total underground for Bellamy and his crew. Assuming they find somewhere they can stay."

"What if I never know?" Clarke asks, fingers tracing the trail on the map. It'll be a two-day trip, Clarke going out and Bellamy returning, so both of them can take a look at the shelter and decide whether or not it's going to work. "What if we stop switching and I just--never find out what happened to him?"

"We'll get you down there," Raven says. "Even if it's just you, I'll get you down there. If you still want to chase your brain pal down in three years."

"It would be pretty sad if we went to all this trouble and never even knew if it worked."

"You don't think you'll just spend every other day as him for the rest of your life?"

"I hope not," she says, a kneejerk response that doesn't even quite make sense. "I want to meet him," she admits, when Raven raises her eyebrows.

Raven nods. "Yeah. Let's make that happen."

*

They end up spending four days in the fallout shelter, filling Raven in on all the details, Clarke doing sketches, Bellamy testing the hydroponics, Raven nearly murdering both of them as she tries to describe how to fix things she can't get her hands on.

But by the end of the four days, they've turned the place into a viable living option. It's not pretty, and it won't be a fun five years, but the Ark isn't fun either. They'll survive, Clarke is pretty sure, and that's the most important thing.

Black rain this afternoon, Bellamy writes, two days after he gets back to the village. I'm going to ask Raven what that means, how long we have. I guess we should maybe just get in there, before it gets worse.

You're going to have to be in there for five years, I wouldn't be in a hurry.

You just don't want to be stuck in a bunker, he teases. I don't blame you, you're already stuck in a space bunker. It must have been nice for you to get out. But I'm not taking any chances.

Good, don't. She worries her lip, staring at the blank expanse of paper in front of her. She's never been as good at words as she is at drawing, doesn't know how to put together what she wants to say. I'm afraid that when you go in the bunker, this is going to stop and we're not going to switch anymore. So if this is the end, I'm glad I met you. Or whatever I did.

And then, she does what she does best: she draws. She draws Raven for him, Wells, her parents, her room. She draws the Earth from the window of the Ark, Octavia and Tyr, Bellamy's hut and the woods and, finally, herself, the best self-portrait she can manage. It's far from her best work, quick and sketchy, and her hand aches by the time she's done, but at least it's something.

The sun is almost coming up. What happens if she doesn't go to sleep? Would she be trapped in Bellamy's body? In his life?

It's not worth the risk. She doesn't want to be Bellamy, she wants to be with him.

So she goes to sleep and wakes up in her own bed, as exhausted as she'd expect after pulling an all-nighter. It's tempting to just roll over and catch a few more hours, but she drags herself up to find Bellamy's letter, just to see if there's anything pressing she should know and any reason she has to get out of bed today. Maybe she can just mope around feeling sorry for herself. She's been a different person part-time for months now. She's earned a break.

He has the usual updates, logistics, a breakdown of what Raven told him about the shelter and what his plans are. And then, at the end, squeezed in like he was trying to make every inch of paper count, there it is: Maybe this is just me, but I think this might be the last time we do this. I've got a feeling I'm not going to see you again. Or be you again, I guess. So if this is it, I just want to say thanks. Not just for the shelter stuff. I think I needed a break from my life, and I got one. Whatever else happens, I'm so grateful this happened, that I got to meet you.

I guess if this isn't the last time, this is going to be weird, so if we're back day after tomorrow, just don't mention this, okay? Thanks.

Clarke clutches the letter to her chest, curling around it as she closes her eyes.

That night, she goes to sleep in her bed and, for the first time in three months, she wakes up there too.

It's a good thing. It has to be.

*

It's probably a good thing they have to wait three years for the radiation to clear up, because it takes that long for her to convince anyone that they can go down. Even saying she did it a bit of a stretch, because Raven did most of the work. Clarke could have used Bellamy as an argument, but the two of them decided that trying to use her notebook full of messages from Bellamy as evidence would be questionable, at best. It worked with Raven, but she can't go in front of Chancellor Jaha and Marcus Kane and Diana Syndey and her mother with a story about how she spent every other day of her life in someone else's body.

So instead, they go for facts. Raven looks at data like plant growth, oxygen levels, radiation levels on the Ark. None of it is evidence, not enough to be sure, but it's enough for the council to finally approve a dropship, a test mission.

"I don't want you on it," Abby tells Clarke, as she packs.

"It was my idea. If I don't go down, why would anyone else?"

"Clarke--"

"What?"

"How are you so sure?"

She thinks of Bellamy's final letter under her pillow, the same place it's been for all these years. It's stupid, maybe, ridiculous, to hold on for this long, but he's like a loose tooth she can't pull out, her unfinished business.

She has to know. She has to see if it was real.

"I don't know," she says, and it's mostly true. "I just am. I have to be."

"I hope you're right."

Clarke hugs her tight. It's not goodbye, but it might be one of the last times. Even if everything goes right and she can survive, the rest of the Ark may not come down. They may decide that it's not worth the trouble or the risk.

"I do too."

She and Raven take a hundred volunteers, mostly people around her age, a few dumbass kids in the Skybox who like their odds on the ground better than they like their odds of living past their eighteenth birthdays. It's not exactly a dream team, but it's good enough. Their plan is to land by the shelter, open it up for whatever resources they can find in there. If everything that happened was real and Clarke's experience with Bellamy wasn't some fucked up dream, then they'll find people in there, alive or dead, around two hundred, if everything went right. They'll move south, to the green they can see on the coast of California, and tell the Ark that it's safe, that they can make it here. There are no reactors nearby, and the land should be fertile.

"What if they didn't make it?" Clarke asks.

"Then they didn't make it," says Raven. "We'll still be on the ground, right? It's got to be better than being stuck up here."

"I thought you liked space."

"I like spacewalks," she says. "As long as they've got cool stuff on Earth too, I'll be fine.

"What if he doesn't remember me?"

"Then you remind him how awesome you are."

Clarke grins. "I'm glad you're coming with me."

Raven slings her arm around Clarke's shoulders, gives her a quick squeeze. "I wouldn't miss it."

When she opens up the doors, it's like stepping back in time, the smell of the air so familiar, the way the sun feels on her face. She's been here before, she knows. It's not the same place she was when she was Bellamy, but it's the same planet. Home.

"This is it," she tells Raven, and Raven smiles.

"Yeah, we made it."

They don't take everyone to check on the shelter. She leaves Wells and Miller in charge, and she and Raven take a small group through the forest--the familiar forest--to the same bunker she remembers examining for two days.

And then, she has to open the door.

"Remember, there might not be anyone in there, but that doesn't mean they're not real," Raven says. "Maybe they already came out."

"Maybe. I told him to wait, to be careful. No second chances."

"If it's safe for us, it's safe for him."

"I know."

She knocks, which feels ridiculous at best and actively harmful at worst, like anyone in there will be absolutely terrified that something is outside trying to get in, so she doesn't wait for a response before starting to turn the wheel on the airlock door. Intellectually, she knows it's not any heavier than it was, just harder to turn because she's not as strong as Bellamy, but it feels like it takes so much longer. But she manages, and then it's opening up, a musty smell hitting her face, dark and dust and--

"Clarke," Bellamy breathes, and she sees him in full for the first time.

She's tried to draw him off and on, this boy whose face she only saw in choppy water or warped surfaces, whose features she couldn't get all at once. She knows him through a haze, but she recognizes him instantly, dark eyes and messy hair, scruffy chin.

"Bellamy," she says.

He pulls her in just as she wraps her arms around his neck. He's solid and warm, his scent familiar, every inch of him something she knows intimately.

"You sound different," he says. She can hear his smile.

"You're not as tall as I thought you were."

"How did you get here?"

"I told my mom we could come down. Once the radiation cleared up enough."

"And you came here?"

"I wanted to meet you."

His lips press against her hair, soft, and then he's pulling back, looking her up and down, grinning. "So, it's safe to come out?"

She slides her hand into his, squeezes once. There's some part of her brain aware of her people and his, watching in complete confusion, but she can't bring herself to care. It was all real and now here he is, her prize for believing in magic. This impossible boy.

"There's a whole world out here, yeah."

"I had no idea," he teases. "Let's see what we can do with it."