#we both came to the conclusion that we would pull a Conjuring on each other

[archies-litterbox]

Home

Summary: Some times when Douxie called the castle his home, and one time Merlin realized his son saw the castle as his home whether he was ready to process that or not (and he wasn’t).

Words: 2000

A/N: I got this done! I actually challenged myself by making sure each little segment of the fic was EXACTLY 500 words, and I had a lot of fun! hope you like it <3

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Nightmares (there’s way more softness in this than the CW makes it look I swear-)]

--

The typical chatter of the marketplace was overshadowed by Hisirdoux’s skipping steps, and those were overshadowed by the moppet humming a little tune to himself that Merlin couldn’t make sense of. It was one of many things about the little apprentice that didn’t exactly make sense, but when Merlin brought the boy along to finish an errand, what he truly dreaded was that the boy would be insufferable and get distracted at every turn. So, really, endearing -

- “Endearing to who?” Merlin asked in response to his own internal monologue, because the humming from the boy, a sure sign that his apprentice was content at the very least, was most certainly not endearing to him -

- So, really, definitely-not-endearing humming of silly, nonsensical tunes was a more-than-adequate alternative to that insufferability and distraction, Merlin was sure.

“Getting that potion ingredient was easier than I thought!” Hisirdoux said happily, the spring in his step ever-present, “The merchant wasn’t even cross with me, like usual - like when I come here by myself.”

“Have you considered,” Merlin started, “That she’d been cross because of your notorious slight-of-hand? And your pickpocketing and street tricks has rendered her wary of your possible antics?”

Hisirdoux shrugged, rubbed the back of his head in obvious sheepishness, and turned his gaze elsewhere, “Mayyyybe-”

His face lit up in excitement, his eyes widening as his mouth formed an “O” shape when he saw something off to the street’s side.

“Ooooh! Look!” He turned a little to the side, bringing his hands up as he started to wander to a stand selling some sweet treats, “They’re selling-”

Merlin put a hand on his shoulder to still the boy, who was already a handful without the added hyperactivity of sugar.

“Nothing of importance, Hisirdoux.”

He turned the boy forward again, put his hand on top of Hisirdoux’s head, and turned it forward again as well.

“Awwwh.” Hisirdoux whined.

“We have what we came down here for, and Wizards are many things, but they are not frivolous.” he said as he kept walking, a slightly-pouting moppet walking alongside him, “We’re heading straight back to the castle. There are better pastry bakers there, anyway.”

Hisirdoux’s disappointed pout left his face.

“Right, right.” he said, as if he were reminded of how happy he was just to be out here, on what he probably thought of as a beautiful day, although Merlin was rather impartial to the sunny weather.

 “Let’s go home, Master!”

...Home?

Did he mean the castle?

Though he kept moving physically, putting one armor-plated foot in front of the other, Merlin’s mind froze as he looked down at the joyful, beaming moppet. To hear Hisirdoux refer to the castle as his home… 

Well, Merlin knew he should have expected it at this point, considering the boy’s utter lack of a permanent roof over his head before, but he still didn’t know what to make of it, if there was anything to make of it.

So, he sighed.

“The castle isn’t that far away.”

--

The dark circles under the boy’s eyes looked darker in hue than usual today, but of course, that was only due to the contrast against the unusual paleness of his face. Said eyes looked up at Merlin with a rather lacking amount of cognizance as the Master Wizard stood over the moppet. Stripped of his bulky leather hooded vest in favor of keeping on only his trousers and tunic, so he didn’t overheat, Hisirdoux’s deep breaths through his mouth were only interrupted by a brief, pitiful sniffle of his nose.

“Mathter, ‘th thith… plague?” He was hoarse from coughing and nasally from his awful congestion. To this, Merlin only huffed - of course, leave it to his ever-dramatic apprentice to leap to the most dire conclusion possible, even though he couldn’t even rightly walk down to the throne room in this state.

“Not unless a rather nasty cold has become the new plague of Camelot.” he answered, “you should have come back sooner from your last errand, Hisirdoux, before it started to pour.”

Hisirdoux groaned, either out of his achy, miserable condition, or frustration with hearing the old man lecture him, or both.

“I know, I know-”

A wet cough cut him off, making him curl up before he flopped back down on the bed.

“Ugh, ithn’t there thome…” he swallowed, as if to clear his throat of sickly gunk as best he could without another hacking, “I dunno, “thickness begone-iuth” thpell, or thomething?”

“I won’t use magic to alleviate your sickness, if that’s what you’re implying.” Merlin denied, “Although unpleasant, your condition is far from serious, and your symptoms should alleviate in a few days, at the most. If I use magic on something so mere, your natural immune system will weaken, and a dependence on magic to maintain your health is dangerous, so-”

“But Mathter-”

“Don’t “But Mathter” me.”

Hisirdoux sighed, a shaky, ugly-sounding thing, too exhausted to even spare a laugh at how Merlin imitated him.

“Magic ithn’t a permithible shortcut…” he started, but he trailed off and punctuated the statement with another little sniffle.

It seemed, remarkably, Hisirdoux remembered a few of Merlin’s teachings, despite his low-grade fever.

Which reminded him…

The Master Wizard sighed and conjured a cold, damp rag, enchanted to not dry out or get tepid. Making sure it was properly folded, he laid it right onto Hisirdoux’s forehead.

“Oh, ‘th nithe…” he mumbled, “thank you…”

“Your plans for today are postponed, of course.” Merlin declared, “You’re to stay here and rest.”

“But-” Hisirdoux’s eyebrows furrowed, “I wath thupposed to go out and do that… that thing… and get the thing… from the plathe…”

Of course, it must have been harder for the boy to think sensibly and make sense than usual.

“And that will wait until your condition improves.” Merlin finalized, “Am I clear?”

Hisirdoux, resigned, nodded.

“Yeth, Mathter… thtaying home it ith, then.”

Before Merlin had anywhere near enough time to be surprised at that word, “home”, Hisirdoux fell right to sleep.

--

Merlin couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt like this before; when he couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or furious.

But he couldn’t be bothered to try to figure that out - not when, after hours of Hisirdoux being late coming back to the castle, a shoddily-written ransom note made its way to the desk of the Master Wizard’s study.

Thankfully, Hisirdoux’s familiar could trace it by it’s unpleasant scent. Merlin followed Archibald as the cat-dragon followed the scent trail to some disgusting hovel in a forest clearing, with some deplorable men hanging around it’s outside.

When Merlin laid eyes on them... he leveled them with any spells he could remember through his rage at them all; at their audacity.

Of course, it had been some incompetent group of bandits, but only a fool equated incompetency with harmlessness; just because these idiots didn’t know what they were doing didn’t mean that Hisirdoux was safe.

So, he shifted his focus on finding his apprentice, even if he had to reduce every board of this blasted cabin to splinters.

But it didn’t come to that; the second Merlin stepped in, he saw him.

Hisirdoux was curled up in a corner, sitting on his heels with his hands bound behind him, his arms bound steadfast to his torso, and a piece of cloth tied between his teeth. He was unharmed, but terrified.

Hisirdoux’s muffled cry that came out when he saw Merlin shattered the old man’s heart.

He never ran faster in his life.

A small, very precise blast from Archie made the bonds around Hisirdoux’s wrists and torso come loose, and when Merlin got to him, he pulled the cloth gag out as fast as he could without hurting him, letting it lay around his neck.

The instant his arms were fully free and Merlin was close enough, Hisirdoux hugged him, clinging to the Wizard for dear life and crying his heart out against his armored shoulder.

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

Merlin felt Hisirdoux shake his head. He could tell he was swallowing to try to get some moisture back in his mouth. It had probably been dried out by that blasted gag, and who knew if they’d given him any water?

“No, just-” he gasped, “Scared.”

Those bandits would soon forget the very meaning of mercy.

For now, Merlin focused on rubbing soothing circles against the boy’s back, seeing that his ankles were bound. Merlin didn’t even notice before, and Hisirdoux was so hasty - so desperate for comfort that he didn’t even wait. He didn’t even seem to care.

Archie started cutting them loose.

“I-” Hisirdoux hiccuped, “I wanna go home.”

The shattered remnants of Merlin’s heart melted.

Home.

His son wanted to go home.

He sighed, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of the poor boy’s head, passing his fingers through his un-bunned hair.

“Please,” he whined, “take me home.”

Merlin nodded, the side of his head rubbing Hisirdoux’s.

“Right… right.”

--

It was long past nightfall, and the castle was quiet, so Merlin tried to tread the corridors lightly so his armored feet wouldn’t clank against the floor and wake anyone; the last thing he wanted was for any particular moppetish apprentices to stir.

That boy… he had already gone through so much he hadn’t deserved, and for what? To what end? Merlin presumed that before he’d found him in that alley, he’d been treated poorly for being not only a street rat, but a magical one at that. And now, even though he was the Wizard’s apprentice, that treatment hadn’t truly gone away; no, it only shifted onto new grounds: the grounds that... he was the Wizard’s apprentice. Now, much of the animosity sent his way was truly meant for Merlin; directing it at Hisirdoux merely amplified it. Strengthened the blow.

And that blow was strengthened today.

Merlin remembered the note’s creases under his fingertips as it trembled in his shaking hand; the door creaking open with a shriek in its hinges and showing Merlin his apprentice, bound and gagged and terrified in the corner of that hovel; Hisirdoux wailing against his shoulder; the trembling of his son in his arms. He remembered it all.

“Hisirdoux…”

He passed the sleeping boy’s door… and sensed magic from behind it. Unusual magic for this hour. In the little gap between the door and the floor, he could see the blue glow of his magic, too. Unmistakeable.

“...Hisirdoux?”’

He stopped at the door and pushed it open, only to be met with a fretful sight before him (not nearly as bad as the last time he’d pushed a door open to find Hisirdoux today, but it was rather close.)

The boy was thrashing in his sleep - tossing and turning in his blankets to the point where they’d started to tangle around him, which only made his obviously-nightmare-induced thrashing worse. Magic thrummed from his hands as he fought back against… something, and even Archibald, who had curled up on his abdomen to soothe him to sleep earlier tonight, couldn’t quell his night terror.

Merlin knelt down at the boy’s bedside and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly, “Hisirdoux!”

“N-no! Stop!” he pleaded, thrashing harder to get the hand off him, “Get away! Leave me ALONE! Let me GO!”

Merlin shook him harder.

“HISIRDOUX!” he shouted.

Finally, the boy’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped.

For a moment, he just breathed as lucidity seeped back into him. After realizing he was in the realm of the conscious, he put his hands to the sides of his head.

“Master…” he squeaked, “Where-”

“It’s alright, Hisirdoux. You’re safe.” he assured, “You’re home.”

Honestly, the words just slipped out, for Merlin, shocked by himself, doubted that he would have ever said them otherwise.

And with now-even-wider eyes, Hisirdoux looked just as shocked.

… Well, no good rescinding it now. How could he, really?

“You’re home.”

Hisirdoux nodded, a shaky smile on his face.

“...Home.”

[weelittleweasley]

love affair (g.w.)

prompt: a relationship with george weasley was all you wanted. but it seemed as though the two of you had two different ideas of what a relationship meant.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader, fred weasley x fem!platonic reader

warnings: cheating relationships, physical violence, tiny blood warning (literally one sentence), lots of angst, language

word count: 7.5k

author note: this is an amalgamation of me getting out of a very strange relationship six months ago, driver’s license by olivia rodrigo, and two ghosts by harry styles, so take that as you will. this made me sad to write. im so sorry. i also wrote this half tired so if it doesn't make sense, IM SO SORRY LMAO

Knees curled up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs, forcing your body into a coddled position as you sat upon the window sill. Forehead pressed to the glass, the coolness of it made your warm forehead ease with the sensation, condensation fogging up the window pane as your eyes stared mindlessly out of the window. Small mouth sounds fell from your parted lips as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. In the fog on the pane, you dragged your finger across the condensation, drawing little figurines as you attempted to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts that flooded with panic at the news you had received moments ago.

Your pointer finger drew a small heart into the glass before you ripped it away. The sound of a deep tenor rumble resonated outside as small water droplets began pitter-pattering down onto the window. The rain was soothing in contrast to your current state, washing over the lush landscape of the Scottish countryside that Hogwarts castle stood proudly on. 

The rain renewed and refreshed the early autumnal landscape. Water struck upon delicate flowers and reached up to the pale gray sky, accepting the water gratefully. Like a stream in a forest, water rushed down the sides of the Whomping Willow as it twisted and shook off the rain as it poured down. The lush green grass absorbed the water, causing mud puddles to form in pockets across the ground. A smile creeped onto your face as you bit your bottom lip, thinking about how George would insist the next morning that you two go romp around in the mud, behaving like children. George loved mornings after the rain, the way the air was crisp, the smell of fresh dew, the soft ground beneath his yellow rain boots. 

But with the thought of George, your anxious thoughts swirled in your mind like a mixing bowl. You took a deep breath in and repeated to yourself that you would not like to jump to conclusions. This could have been a misunderstanding and Patricia Stimpson had just conveyed the message incorrectly. But the churning in your gut suggested otherwise.

The rain came down relentlessly now, thunder rumbling like a snare drum as darts of lightning flashed far away. The storm was far away, thankfully, which put your mind at ease. 

As a rumble of thunder rippled through, gentle knocks sounded at your door. Rather than getting up and greeting the expected visitor at the door, you lifted your wand beside you and with a gentle flick, the door creaked open just enough for him to push it open all the way.

Entering the room, George closes the door behind him. Without even saying a word, he knows you aren’t yourself. Something was troubling you and it was palpable. The way you curled up watching the rain trickle down the window as you followed it lazily with your finger. George sighs and walks towards you. “Awfully quiet today, aren’t we?” he speaks simply as he takes a seat across from you on the window sill, him sitting criss cross. 

You peel your eyes away from the window and give him a gentle smile as your mind screams to tell him to leave the room, you need space. But when you look at him, your heart swells with all the love you can conjure in your body. He was your George. How could he have done something so unthinkable, but your heart still leaped at the sight of him? You pushed the thought away; nothing was confirmed yet. “Hi, Georgie,” you speak quietly. He scoots closer to you, smile on his lips as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. “There’s just a lot on my mind today.”

George peels your arms from around your legs and pulls on them gently, making you wrap your legs around his waist as you huff, giving into his touch. Now, you were wrapped around him like a koala would be, his hands resting on your hips as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “Would you like to share with the class?” he jokes as you give him a look that tells him you were serious. He clears his throat. “Sorry, darling,” he smiles. “What’s bothering you? You can tell me...I don’t like seeing you upset. Especially if it is something I can prevent.”

How ironic. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you inhale a shaky breath. “I received some news from Patricia Stimpson this morning,” you start as you gently start to peel yourself off of George. It didn’t feel right to talk about something like this while being complete entangled in each other. George gives you a concerned look, a little confused as to why you would be talking to Patricia Stimpson. “She saw something that you did that is honestly quite disturbing.”

Patricia came up to you this morning after you had finished breakfast in the Great Hall with George as you parted ways for the day, him to the library and you to you the courtyard. She had a look of urgency in her eyes as she tapped your shoulder and requested to speak somewhere privately. The two of you sat on a bench in the courtyard as she gave you a sad smile and revealed information that you never thought you would receive. 

Your heart had stopped beating at the mention of the combination of names strung together in that sentence. It felt like your worst nightmare had grown legs and had walked into your life. The news slapped you in the face as you just stared at her when she told you, looking into her eyes that looked at you so sad for you. “You mean to tell me,” you breathily laugh, not wanting to even think that this situation was a possibility, “that you saw George and...Angelina...”

She nodded her head, sadly with a look of guilt on her face. She hated that she had to be the barer of bad news, especially since you two weren’t that close. But she would hate to see another girl struggle to breathe as rumors flooded in when she knew she could have helped prevent the situation. Patricia gulped and spoke, “Snogging, yeah.” The thought makes bile rise in your throat as you swallow hard and close your eyes. “It happened a few days ago. They were in the library in the back. I was trying to return a book and I stumbled upon them. The two of them both froze and Angelina then yelled at me to leave and I did, I was shocked, I didn’t know what to do,” she tries to reason. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You shook your head and placed a reassuring hand on Patricia’s. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t nothing wrong, darling,” you give her a weak smile. “There was nothing you could after seeing that except tell me. Thank you for telling me,” you speak as you inhale a deep breath, trying to understand how something like this could have happened.

George went to the library often, but he was usually accompanied by Fred or Lee to talk about the joke shoppe or sorts. He would have meetings every four days. If he had slipped away to do something with Angelina, Fred or Lee would have known. But what really stung was the fact that it was Angelina. Your first friend at Hogwarts. She introduced you to George. She helped set you two up. And now she was the one tearing you apart. 

Patricia starts rambling, “I should have told you when I saw it, but I was scared that I had the wrong twin. That it was Fred and not George, but I could have sworn it was George. It had to have been.”

You speak, “Stop justifying things, Patricia. It’s okay. I’ll, um, I’ll have a chat with George about this I guess. Thank you, again, Patricia. I’ll...see you around.”

When you recounted the events to George, he just sat there and looked at you in disbelief. The way he looked at you with so much pain in his eyes made you feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing. You gulped down a dry swallow and told yourself you couldn’t cry, but that didn’t halt the tears from welling up in your eyes as you inhaled a shaky breath. George still just stared at you in shock. “Please, Georgie,” you beg, just barely above a whisper, knowing if you speak any louder, you’ll crumble. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Your bottom lip trembles and threatens to spill out a sob, but it’s stifled when George pulls you into his chest as you cry into his jumper, taking it in your hands in fistfuls. You let cries erupt throughout your body as George rubs your back soothingly, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t cry, angel,” he coos as you sob into his chest, praying to whoever was listening that this wasn’t happening. “Shhhh,” he hushes you, gently prying you off of his chest so he could look into your eyes.

Looking up at him teary eyed, George cradles your face in hands, thumbs wiping away your tears as you tremble like a child after a sick nightmare. He pressed a kiss to one cheekbone and then the other, where tears fell before he pressed his forehead up against yours. “Never in my life,” he speaks, “would I do that to the girl I love.” The fear evaporates from your body as your shoulders relax and you let out a shaky breath. “I know Patricia claims it was me, but it was absolutely Fred. He’s had his eye on Angelina for a few weeks now. Nice to know that my own twin brother doesn’t tell me when he snogged a girl,” he teases as you giggle lightly. “(Y/N)...” he speaks, his voice trailing off, almost as if it were a warning. “I love you.”

His declaration of love felt more like a statement when he said it. As if you should have known. It was firm and pressing. You shook your head as you smiled lightly, sniffling. It was dumb of you to question George’s loyalties in the first place. He loved you fiercely. “I love you, Georgie.”

And for the first time ever in this relationship, the words you exchanged felt out of place. Misused. But you knew the words still rang true for the both of you after three years of dating. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have your lips pressed against his right now in a gentle kiss, trying to mend what had almost been broken.

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

A few days had passed since the rain and you found yourself happily walking down the hallway, hand in hand with George. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, making you laugh and slap his chest as he joined you in laughter. George squeezed your petite hand in his larger one before he spoke, “Freddie and I have got a team meeting in the library. We’ve got potential investors for the joke shoppe.”

Your eyes widen as you excitedly push his shoulder. “Investors? Geez, Georgie, why didn’t you tell me?!” you exclaim as he chuckles. “I’m so proud of you,” you beam, gently stroking his cheek before you place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go on then, go do more exciting things,” you push him in the direction of the library.

George sends you a wink, “I’ll catch you after, alright?” He walks backwards down the hall. “In your room?” he asks as you smile and nod. “Brilliant.”

And with that, he’s gone as you shake your head and continue walking down the hallway. As you walk, you think about how that night between you and George had brought you closer. He wanted to be around you more, he gave you more compliments, he paid close attention to how you were feeling. It was like he was becoming a more attentive boyfriend. A new George, one that you could get used to. 

You lazily walked through the halls of Hogwarts, chatting with people you knew as you passed. Now, you found yourself giggling as you stumbled upon Ron, linking arms as dancing down the hallway. You erupted in a fit of giggles as Ron spun you around and he chuckled. The two of you engaged in light chatter before he offered you a snack from his satchel, a bright red apple. “What is it with your family and always eating? I don’t get it,” you tease him.

Ron shrugs, “Always be prepared?”

You roll your eyes as you continue to walk, talk, and eat as you turn the corner and you furrow your brows. There was Fred leaning up against the wall, chatting to Lee about something before Lee threw his head back in laughter. That was odd. Quite a short meeting Fred and George had. “Oi!” you call out. “Freddie!” You drag Ron down the hallway to meet his brother and Lee as Ron throws a lazy arm around your shoulder, towering over you.

Fred turns his eyes and when his eyes land on you a genuine, happy smile appears on his face. “Oi, is my younger git brother annoying you?” he teases as Ron sarcastically laughs before punching Fred in the arm as Fred laughs melodiously.

“Piss off, Fred. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he sneers.

You turn to Fred again, “I thought you and Georgie had a meeting about the joke shoppe. I was just with him like twenty minutes ago and he said he had to run.” You were genuinely curious and also confused. You thought an investor meeting would take more time than just a mere twenty minutes if it was a serious offer. 

Fred shakes his head and tucks his hands into his pockets. “No,” he speaks, brows furrowed, confused as to why his brother would relay false information to you like this. “We have a meeting about the shoppe every other week. Our next meeting isn’t for another week.” Lee looks at you, puzzled, looking back and forth between you and Fred. There was something wrong. 

Your heart sinks and your mouth goes dry. Ron watches your face drop from an excited smile to the color of parchment. He places a cautious hand on your shoulder. Before he can ask you how you’re feeling, you speak up, “Freddie,” you gulp. “This is going to sound like a weird question, but I need you to be brutally honest with me.” Fred looks at Lee completely puzzled before looking at you. “About a week ago, did Patricia Stimpson walk in on you snogging Angelina in the library?”

Lee cackles, “He wishes! Angelina Johnson wouldn’t go near our poor Fred with a ten foot pole!” Lee claps Fred’s shoulder as Fred shoots him a glare, making Lee pipe down immediately. Now was not the time to joke around. And that really meant something when it came to Fred Weasley.

Your heart sinks further and your chest starts to rise and fall with anxiety. The big red apple that was once in your hand fell to the floor and rolled away. Something was gravely wrong. Ron peels his arm off of you, knowing that you need space as you anxiously look between Fred and Ron and Lee, trying to figure out where George could be then. If he wasn’t with Fred or Lee or you, then that meant he was alone. Or...

Fred looks at you and takes a step closer to you. “(Y/N),” he speaks, approaching you with caution like you were ticking time bomb. “Look at me,” he speaks, placing both of his hands on your arms as you look upwards at him, fear in your eyes. “Where did my brother tell you he was?”

Breathing heavily, you open your mouth and no sound comes out at first, just a squeak. Fred’s eyes soften, concerned for you and moment away from kicking his brother’s teeth in. His eyes coax you into trusting him with the information you have. Finally, you manage, “In the library, with you, talking about investments for the shoppe.”

Without another word, Fred takes your hand in his and speaks directly to Lee. “If George doesn’t come back to the room tonight, don’t go looking for him,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Ron, stay here. We don’t need more attention to the scene we’re about to cause. Or should I say, I’m about to cause.” 

Before anyone can object, Fred and you are now walking, more marching, down the halls of the castle to the library to hunt out George. Panic and fear are pumping through your veins as Fred radiates pure fury. Fred and you were always very close, even more so after you and George had started dating. In Fred’s eyes, you were like another sister to him. He felt the overwhelming need to protect in a way that was different how George protected you. Fred knew the inner workings of your mind like the back of your hand. You were the first person he came to when he had a problem and vise versa. Fred was your friend and a damn good one at that. He hated seeing you upset, especially if he knew it was the doing of his own twin. 

“Freddie,” you breathe out. “Patricia came to me days ago and told me that she saw them, but I didn’t believe it. He had told me that it was you and that you had a thing for Angelina for a while and I believed it because I have always trusted George. But now I-”

Halting dead in his tracks before you walk into the library, Fred grabs your shoulders and spins you to face him. “Listen to me, (Y/N),” he commands your attention. “I love my brother. He’s my other half. But something he can be that the guy who is down right dick. And if he did, or is doing, what we’re thinking, then he’s even worse than I had ever imagined. And that is on him.” Fred’s words bring you peace, but also a wave of nerves. Could George ever be unfaithful? Did the relationship have that many cracks that he allowed himself to slip through one? Fred’s brown eyes that looked so like George’s stared into yours as he gave you a smile. “You’re the best girl I know and George is a fucking idiot if he’s letting you go. Regardless of what happens in there, I am your best friend first and foremost. I’m here for you no matter what he does.”

You nod your head and sigh before pulling Fred into the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. With all your might, you hold him close as he sighs and hugs you back, knowing the outcome of this situation before it had even unfolded. Fred thought to himself how could his brother be so selfish, so childish, so moronic to do what he had done. There was no going back now. You can feel the hot tears stinging the back of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. You were still clinging onto the last bit of hope before you entered the library. “Thank you, Freddie.” 

His arms gave you one last squeeze before taking your hand in his. “Are you ready?” he asks, eyes genuinely searching yours for your answer. Fred was ready to go in there without you to confront his asshole twin and your once best friend, yelling and screaming. Rage was pumping through his veins, but he tried his best to conceal it in front of you. Fred didn’t want you to see him like this. 

With a weak nod, you inhale a shaky breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk into the library and you feel your heart drop into your feet when you step in. You didn’t like the way the library felt in this moment. It was cold and hot at the same time and you felt stifled. But that didn’t stop you from chaotically walking to the back of the stacks to find your boyfriend. 

You peer down aisles trying to find that familiar tuff of red hair, but all you find are diligent students reading, some joking around with each other, others peering through the stacks to find books. “Where the bloody hell...” you whisper to yourself, growing frustrated that you couldn’t find George. Your nervous energy was now being channeled into anger as you balled your first beside you.

Before you can flip around and ask Fred where he thought his brother could be, you hear a familiar low voice and girlish giggle from behind you. You look at Fred, your eyes wide and stomach churning. Fred opens his mouth to say something, but you are already walking to the back of the library to find exactly what you expected.

The red haired boy your heart belonged to was now pressed flushed against your once best friend, lips connected to each others as her fingers played with the hair that stuck up on the back of his neck. George’s hands were placed on her hips before running down her sides to squeeze her bottom cheekily as she giggled. You inhaled a sharp gasp at the sight, wanting to vomit at the sight of George and Angelina pressed up against each other like this. Your mouth hangs open as the detach themselves from their embrace, faces falling from smiles to sheer horror. 

“Fucking hell,” you breathe out, the tears that threatened to fall outside now flowing down your cheeks freely. You feel Fred’s presence behind you as George and Angelina’s eyes dart between you and Fred. Angelina stutters for a moment as George’s hands fly off of her body and into his pockets. “So is Angelina your potential investor?” you ask, bottom lip trembling in horror as Fred steps right behind you, placing his hand on yours giving it a squeeze, letting you know that he is right there with you. 

George steps away from Angelina and Angelina fumbles with her words, “(Y/N)-”

You scoff, “Oh, shut up, Angelina. You have no excuse. You were supposed to be my best mate, but instead you decided that you’d rather fool around with my boyfriend behind my back, eh? Some fucking friend you are.” 

Angelina’s face contorts with sadness and guilt as she looks down at her feet, playing with her fingers. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she tries to defend herself. 

With pure fury rushing through your veins, you laugh. “Well, I’d bloody hope you didn’t plan on it!” you exclaim. “I always knew you to be competitive, but not like this. This is low. Even for you,” you shake your head before looking at George who has guilt slapped all over his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stick up your hand. “Don’t even say anything to me. Don’t you dare even look at me. You’re a liar and a cheat and loathsome. I hope you’re happy. Angelina, he’s all yours.”

You turn away and let a hand fly up to your mouth to conceal your sob as you run out of the library with Fred draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Come on, now,” he whispers to you as some people notice your state. “It’s over. They’re both done and that’s it. You can cry, darling, it’s alright.”

Fred whisks you out of the library quickly and the moment you step down the secluded hallway, you collapse into Fred’s arm as he holds you, brushing your hair calmingly. The sobs rake through your body, causing it to tremble hopelessly in his arms as he holds you tight. Seeing you like this filled Fred with rage as he kissed the top of your head as he allowed you to cry into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. You sob and mumble things into his jumper as he nods his head. “I’m here, it’s alright.”

That’s when you hear his voice. “(Y/N), please let me talk,” George pleads, pain evident in his voice, but immeasurable to how you felt in this moment. You don’t dare look at him, burying your face deeper into Fred’s chest as his grip grows iron on you.

“Back off, mate, haven’t you hurt her enough?” Fred defends you as he rubs your back. “What has gotten into, George?”

George’s jaw clenches and his fists bundle up beside him. “Piss off and let me talk to my girlfriend, Fred,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, (Y/N),” his voice changes when he addresses you, more gentle and coaxing as you sob harder into Fred’s chest. “I need to tell you my side of the story.” Fred laughs as you peel yourself from him, wiping your eyes, hot with tears. “There’s no explanation needed, dear brother,” Fred sneers at George who with a sarcastic smile presses his tongue to his cheek in sheer annoyance. “She caught you in the act. What are you going to explain? How your tongue accidentally found its way into Angelina’s mouth?”

George takes a step forward, challenging his brother. “Shut the fuck up, would you?” he bellows, anger in his eyes as Fred doesn’t back down, unafraid of George. You watch as the scene unfolds in front of you, still sniffling. “All of a sudden you’re interested in my girlfriend? You trying to scoop her up while she’s vulnerable?” he pushes Fred’s chest.

“Scoop her up?” he pushes back. “Are you mental? And if she hadn’t made it clear already, I’ll do it for you. Ex-girlfriend. She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Fred corrects his brother. “Not to mention, (Y/N) has always been my friend, even before you started dating. I’m not trying to scoop her up, George, we’re friends! I will always protect her! Especially when you fail to do so,” he spits at George. 

That’s what sends George over the edge. With a yell, he sends a gruesome punch to Fred’s jaw who nearly falls over from the blow. “Godric, George, stop!” you yell out at he goes for Fred again, but Fred sends a punch to his twin brother’s nose as George stumbles back, blood trickling down from his nose. 

People start to notice that the twins are now in a full on fight, grabbing and swinging at each other as they yell profanities at the each other. A crowd starts to trickle in, cheering on either side of the boys as you watch in horror.

“Fucking hell, get off of each other!” you scream as you grab Fred’s arm as he holds it up to send another punch to his brother’s nose. “Knock it off, you fucking dickheads!” you throw yourself in front of Fred as George and Fred catch their breaths, chests heaving. “Can we not make this a public affair?” you scream again, gesturing to the small crowd that has formed to witness the Weasley twins having it out at each other. “We can talk about this in private,” you say in a hushed angry tone to George. You turn to Fred and take a look at his face, no blood, but definitely lots of bruises and a split lip. “Episkey,” you wave your wand at his face, sealing his broken lip as well as managing to take away some of the swelling of his eyes. 

Fred hisses as his face stings as it heals. “You don’t need to talk to him, (Y/N). He doesn’t deserve to hear what you have to say,” he sneers at George who takes another challenging step at Fred.

You hold Fred back again and hold a warning finger to George. “Don’t you dare. You’ve already hurt enough people today,” you spit at him who immediately retaliates. You speak to Fred with a soft, calm smile. “I’ll be okay. I can handle him, Freddie,” you insist as Fred gives you sad smile.

Slowly looking away from Fred, your eyes land on George as your heart breaks at the sight of him. He wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve as he glared at his brother, eyes eventually trailing to you as his glare fades into a guilty look. The brown eyes that you loved so much suddenly made you feel cold and alone as you inhaled a shaky breath. George tries to offer you his hand to walk somewhere more private to discuss things, but you just scoff and walk past him, letting him follow you. The audacity, you thought to yourself.

The two of you walk into an empty classroom as you close the door behind you and leaning against it, arms folded in front of you as you glare at George. You could feel yourself wanting to cry again, but you refused to let him see you cry again. He wasn’t worth your tears. Instead, you let rage course through your body instead of sadness. 

George gulps before speaking. “I never wanted this to happen...” he trails off.

“No, you never wanted to get caught,” you correct him as he lets out a disgruntled sigh. “I never thought you would ever do this to me, George. Nevertheless, do it to me with my best friend,” you shake your head. “I thought that if you didn’t love me anymore, you would at least have the decency to tell me,” you throw your hands up in defeat. George remains dead silent. “But somehow, you thought this was a better option.” He quickly replies, “It just happened, (Y/N)!” You furrow your eyebrows. “We were in the common room one night, studying for an exam and we started talking and then for some reason, one thing lead to another, and we kissed,” he admits as your heart breaks. So they had kissed before the time Patricia caught them in the library. This wasn’t a one time mistake he made. George had repeatedly kissed Angelina. Godric knows what else they did. “It was a huge mistake, (Y/N), and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You mean so much to me,” he tries to rationalize with you, begging at this point.

You just scoff and say, “A huge mistake that you did again and again and again. If I hadn’t caught you in the act, you would have kept seeing her, wouldn’t you?” George just shakes his head and gulps, taking a step forward. “Don’t lie to me, George...not again,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to cry. “Instead of telling me how you really felt, you kept telling me you loved me.”

George takes your hands in his and speaks, “I have always loved you, (Y/N). None of that was ever a lie.” Your eyes search his eyes, searching for a truth. Something to tell you why you should stay with him. But instead, you found nothing. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he truly feels sorry when he understands what he losing. “We’re just not who we used to be, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders, trying to shift the blame on both of you.

Pulling away from his hands, you spit back, “No, you’re not who you used to be.” You shake your head. “In fact, I don’t know who you’ve become. But you’re not the George I fell in love with,” you take a deep breath in as George’s heart breaks. What George did really ripped your heart out of your chest, but this is was ripped it into a thousand pieces. Leaving him. “Goodbye, Georgie.”

George shakes his head, “(Y/N), please don’t.”

But you were already gone.

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

Being without George for the first weeks of the breakup were difficult. You missed his touch, his voice, his eyes, his laugh, his smile; you missed it all. Even though what he did rung your heart out, there was a part of you that missed him more than words could say. 

People took notice immediately about how you didn’t sit next to George during meals in the Great Hall or converse to Angelina in between classes. This all earned you sorry glances in your direction as people found out what happened. It was embarrassing, having everyone know exactly what went down between you and George and Angelina.

You tried to distract yourself with other friends and schoolwork and other hobbies to keep yourself from thinking about George. But somehow, you always thought of him and how he so harshly betrayed you. No matter what you were doing, something had made you think of him. It came down to the point that you had to distance yourself from Fred, your closest friend after Angelina, because just the look of him made you think of George. That fact that your best friend had to be the identical twin of your cheating ex-boyfriend was enough to drive you mad. 

But after a few weeks of healing and distancing yourself from everything that reminded you of George, you finally decided you couldn’t let him prevent you from seeing Fred. Fred was not only George’s brother, but your friend and you were’t going to let that stop you. When you had seen him for the first time since you and George broke up, tears welled in your eyes, you missed him so much. Fred gave you the tightest hug and profusely apologized for his brother’s behavior. Fred was insistent on helping you in every way possible to move on from George; he wanted you to know that no matter what he would be there for you, no matter if it was his twin who had done the damage or not.

Fred along with the help of your other friends helped you get over George and move on. They helped you regain your confidence and have fun and you couldn’t be more grateful. Soon enough, George was the last thing on your mind. His presence in a room no longer made you sad, the mention of his name didn’t make your heart stop, and the sight of him didn’t make you miss him. You were over George Weasley; something you never thought you would be able to say.

Even though you were over George, you didn’t think that you would date someone else after four months after your break up. But funnily enough, you were. The relationship that had blossomed between you and Roger Davies started as something very innocent. You had always been friendly with Roger, but not very close. So when you had initially started studying in the library, you didn’t think it would lead to hanging out in the courtyard, to your first date to Hogsmeade, until your first kiss on the moving staircase. 

Roger was so refreshing. He was gentle and kind and shy, but he was affectionate and loved showing you how much he truly cared for you. He would be in the hallways with his friends and spot you across the way before running over to place a quick kiss on your cheek before running back to his friends. Or he would see you studying in the library alone and then immediately find the chair next to you to keep you company. It was the little things he did that made you feel so loved.

When word got to George that you and Roger started dating, he was didn’t take the news well. Unlike you, after the breakup, George wallowed in his guilt and couldn’t stop thinking about how foolish and careless he was. He cursed himself for letting he and Angelina share that kiss on that late night in the common room. He hated the fact that he let himself come back for more when he had someone like you in his fingertips. Someone who loved him fiercely and would do anything to prove their love. When Fred told him the news about you and Roger, George sat there with sad eyes and dryly gulped. “Why him?” he spoke. He was sad, angry, disappointed, jealous at the fact that Roger had just scooped you up. 

“She found someone who she cares for and who does the same,” Fred tells his twin. “You should be happy she found someone like that after how the relationship ended with you two,” he tells him as George just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know you miss her, George, but it’s over. You messed up.”

George just looked at his brother with the most pained look on his face. George knowing that he hurt you in a way unimaginable sat with him like a rock in his stomach. “It was the worst thing I ever did, Fred. I fucked up big time and I can’t fix it. I really can’t fix it this time,” he spoke, pools welling up in his eyes as Fred gave his brother a sympathetic gaze. “I really messed up, Fred.”

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

Winter break rolled around and it would be your first holiday with Roger, but the first holiday without the Weasleys. The thought made your stomach churn. The Weasley family took you in as their own the moment they saw you. Molly and Arthur felt like a second set of parents and you were so grateful that you always had a home with them. You sadly smiled at the memories of the Burrow and the holiday season. You had spent the past four Christmases with the Weasleys and each year just got better and better. You had thought your seventh year would be the best yet, but you had to cast that thought away before you grew sadder.

Shaking away the thoughts of the Burrow, you smiled at the thought of spending the holiday with Roger and his family. You were more than nervous to meet his parents and his older brother, but Roger made it abundantly clear that his family was thrilled to meet you. “I’ve talked to my mom about you before and she is so excited to meet you. She says you sound lovely,” Roger kissed your forehead as you danced nervously around your dormitory room. 

You gave him a nervous smile. “I just really want them to like me,” you shake your hands nervously as he takes your hands in his, laugh gently at your nerves. “I’m serious, Roger. I love you and I want your parents to know how much I care for you,” you stand in between his legs as he sits on your bed.

Roger smiles and kisses your nose gently. “They’ll love you because they know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Let’s be honest, though, what’s not to love about you?” he pokes at your sides as you giggle.

And he wasn’t wrong. Roger’s family was so warm and welcoming to you. Practically the moment his mother spoke to you, you saw how kind and lovely she was and how the whole family took you in instantly. You couldn’t be more grateful to have a boyfriend who had a family that was kind and welcoming like the Weasleys. 

On the first night at Roger’s home, you laid in bed next to Roger as you played with the hem of his jumper. “My family bloody loves you,” he whispered to you with the largest smile on his face. You smiled wide and pecked his cheek. “I’m serious. You even impressed Chester and that’s not an easy feat,” he refers to his older brother. 

You beam, “Your family is wonderful. Truly. I love them already and it’s just the first night.”

“It’s only going to get better from here,” Roger wiggles his brows as you giggle before he presses his lips to yours.

When the Weasley students arrived home from Hogwarts, they were all tightly embraced by Molly Weasley who peppered each of her kids’ faces with kisses, making them all lovingly groan. “Ah! Harry, there you are,” Molly beamed as she kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Good to have you back home again, my dear,” she spoke before doing the same to Hermione’s head and giving her a tight squeeze. Molly looked around the living room, searching for something or rather someone. “Where’s (Y/N)? Georgie, did you leave her at Hogwarts as a mean prank?” she teased before noticing her son’s hollow face and everyone tense up as Molly spoke of your name like it was You Know Who. “What happened, Georgie?” she looks at her son with a stern look in her face. She knew something was very wrong and she had a bad feeling about it.

George gulps before saying, “(Y/N) and I broke up, Mum.”

Molly’s face drops with sadness before looking at Arthur whose face resembles Molly’s. “Really? Oh my dear, I’m so sorry, Georgie. (Y/N) and you seemed so happy. How did it happen?” she implores as George stiffens and Fred sighs and rubs his face.

This is the part that George Weasley was dreading; the reason why you split up. Everyone else in the room was scared for him too, Merlin’s sake. With a deep breath, George said, “Um,” and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend, Mum. I betrayed her trust.”

And that’s when Molly’s face dropped into a serious expression. Molly always taught her children how to care for others and always be loyal to the ones who treat you with love. George’s behavior spoke a different story. “George Fabien Weasley,” she shook her head. “I thought you knew better,” her heart broke for you and it hurt her to know that one of her own boys did that to you. “Your father and I taught you better than that,” she told him with a disapproving look on her face.

It was all she needed to say in order to make George feel more disappointed in himself than ever. He sadly looked to Fred who gave him a sad smile. Losing you was the worst thing he’s ever done. He not only lost you, but he made his parents feel disappointed in him. You meant so much George and he threw that all away for a silly fling that he could never take back. George nervously bit down on his lip before huffing his way up the stairs, needing to be alone with his thoughts for a while. 

The Weasley siblings dispersed throughout the Burrow as they all felt the strange shift in the energy of the house. The house was feeling the weight of your absence. When everyone was in the Burrow, the home was full of life. But with you gone, it was like one piece of the puzzle was missing and wouldn’t be found. 

As George opened the door to he and Fred’s room, the memories of previous holidays flood George’s mind. The two of you laying on his bed, him on his back, you on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. He would steal kisses from you every now and then and poke at your sides, making you giggle wildly. George would hold you close in his arms and whisper how happy he was that you were with him. You would pepper his face in kisses, telling him how much you adored him in between pecks.

The memory made him smile as he entered the room, the more he walked in, the more memories resurfaces. He thought of the time you two watched the sunset out of his window, or the time you two laid on your back on his floor and reread a muggle book of yours, or the time he told you he loved you for the first time in the middle of the room on Christmas Eve all those years ago. 

“You alright, mate?” Fred’s voice interrupts George’s thoughts. Fred gives is brother a sad look. “I know it must be hard this time of year, George,” he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But you’ll be alright. And so will she.” George shakes his head sadly. “Listen, George, even though what you did was still very wrong, you’re my brother and I love you. I’m here for you.”

George gives his brother a sad smile and shakes his head as if to say thank you. He looks Fred in the eyes and just shakes his head, “I want the best for her, Freddie. I want to be the best for her.” George has tears in his eyes and chokes lightly on his words.

Fred’s heart hurts for his brother. George rarely cried in front of Fred, he usually liked to be alone if he was going to cry. He didn’t like Fred seeing him upset. But this was too much for George to hide. Fred holds his brother’s arms and speaks, “I know, George. I know. But right now, what’s best for her is space. You both need to be away from each other. That’s what’s best for both of you.”

That made George realize that his brother was very right. As much as he hated to believe that you two couldn’t be together, George knew it was true. And he would have to be okay with that.  

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (final chapter, pt. 2, the end.)

part one here

A/N: Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments and the love sent my way for this fanfic. I've had a great time writing it despite its rocky moments. I really hope this ending does it justice; I've never gotten to write a proper conclusion to anything like this before. It's the first time I've ever completed a multi-chapter work such as this, so I'm happy. 🍾🥂 Here's to finishing what you start, and enjoy. :)

Just shy of a half-hour later, he was finished telling the story. She had sat the both of them down on the couch, one on each end, and he explained in great detail everything leading up to current-day. Tales of the ooze, Mutagen, as he'd told her; the rat named Splinter, a man formerly known as Hamato Yoshi, who had fathered and trained them; and lastly, their mission. Be of service, protect the city; have a good heart. And Donnie most certainly had a good heart. He was not the outlandish figure she'd first saw and recognized him as. He was the guy she had come to know as Bo, Donatello, who was the same person she'd talked to this whole time. At some points of the retelling, he got excited to share some of their adventures. This came after their humble beginnings of struggling in the sewers. Donnie was happy to share after so long of dodging saying anything about his life. 

She nodded along to this talking. "...and that's how we're here," he said finally, putting his hands on his legs. "Since we're here, any questions?" 

She replied with a no, looking over at the TV that had remained on the entire time. Donnie stayed seated as she got up and got the remote, also glancing at the clock on the wall, which read 10:45 PM. She switched the TV off. Looks like it's time to go, he thought. He rose from the couch and fixed the pillow he'd displaced. 

"Donnie, this has been...strange," and for a split second, his face fell, "but not bad! Though, it is getting late." 

 "Oh, no—yeah, no, I understand," he sputtered bashfully, activating the staff which collapsed back into its smaller form. He tucked it away somewhere on him. 

For a moment, he simply stood there as if wanting to say something, but the words never found him. "So it's goodbye?" he asked quietly. The way he said it made it seem like he thought it was forever. But it was on until they figured out how to pick up where they left off after that night. Undoubtedly, things would be different going forward. He didn't know if that would be good or bad. 

"Only until next time," she told him, a small smile present. He visibly relaxed. "You're still my friend, Donatello."

He smiled. "I knew that. Totally."

Showing himself out, he stepped onto the balcony, looking back one last time before he bounded away. He held up his hand and gave a small wave. 

But she hadn't said bye yet, so he stuck around for a moment longer, though it was met with an awkward silence. He was beginning to go over the railing when she ran over to the door, stopping him. "Wait," she said, and he crawled back over the railing with a confused but curious expression. "I actually do have a question. Just one, before you go." 

"Sure," he said, inviting her to go on. She had to look up to see his face being so close. 

Tenderly, she asked, "Why'd you not tell me, after all that time? Would you have ever chosen to do this if it hadn't been for an accident?" 

Donnie couldn't give her an answer on that.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. "I couldn't, [y/n]. We've been through this." 

"I only wanted you to trust me, Donnie," she responded. And that was, really, how she'd felt. Throughout their entire friendship, it had felt one-sided in that regard. Trusting but not trusted, but she hadn't any idea of what was truly going on, at the time. 

Donnie pondered her question: If there hadn't been some kind of divine intervention, would he have ever had the chance to have something more with her than words on a screen? 

He swallowed as she took a small step closer. 

"I just wanted you to care about me." His volume was barely above a whisper. He clenched his jaw briefly, as if he was concerned over his own words. His golden-brown eyes wandered from your eyes on downward. 

"I did—I do care about you, what makes you say that?" she questioned, puzzled. 

He vaguely gestured at his body, "Wouldn't this be a little hard grasp over text? Isn't it hard to accept even now?"

Though she didn't answer, he had a feeling that he was correct about one of those things—she did have to wrap her head around everything. Tentatively, both watched as her fingers brushed against his own. His hand moved along with hers, seeing and feeling the delicateness. Until they laced together as well as they could, her heart steady while his was beginning to race. His hand even trembled ever so slightly. He would have wanted to stay like that forever, had it not been for the fact that he was uncertain where they now stood. Where he stood in your eyes. What did this mean? 

Putting her other hand on his shoulder, she tried to conjure a smile. But it flickered out as she murmured, leaning into him, "Does this answer your question?" She had to stand on the tips of her toes, while his hand tightened in hers involuntarily, almost too shocked to bend down for what was coming. The one thing he hadn't accounted for in their meeting, not once—and it was happening. 

He seemed like he was going to stammer something, but her lips closed the gap and planted softly on his. 

There is no way.

There is no way this is happening—but I'm seeing it with my own eyes! 

Donnie lost all control the moment her lips pressed against his. His hand squeezed hers, shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. I'm shaking. Why am I shaking? 

His eyes which had been wide were now fluttering closed. For the better half of the kiss, every other thought beside the ones of her was ejected. He couldn't have pulled away, even if he'd wanted. He was hers completely. That was irrevocable.

It was only until she decided it was time to step back did they part, him looking at her entrancing face once more, and her swallowing heavily. That kiss had been something she'd dreamed of before. Never Knowing it would be held on the smooth, moist lips of a humanoid turtle, rather than those or a human man. In fact, she had to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. Her hand slid down his shoulder and onto his chestplate. It was rough, almost possessing a grain under her fingertips. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand. He thought he felt a tingle from the trail her fingers left. 

Donnie was on Cloud Nine for a solid minute before coming back to his senses. "That...I…" he struggled to find the words. For a brain that worked so fast, he felt utterly slow, then. 

She cracked a smile, face contorted into one of hope and a hint of embarrassment. "Is it too late to say that I've waited to do that for a while now?" she laughed. 

"N-no," he said, still trying to organize his thoughts. "No, it isn't."

"Okay, good," she replied with a relieved exhale. 

Her hand went from his chest to his arm, feeling the taut muscle as it traveled down. His hand enveloped hers while the other lifted, going to touch her cheek. "Does this mean…?" he trailed off. 

"It means I really, really like you, Donnie. I have since we played that game." 

He gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, "I really like you, too," he mimicked, voice soft. 

Maybe even that was an understatement. 

"I think I…" 

A noise nearby alerted him, and on instinct, he set her behind himself on defense. Don't be an attack now, of all times, he thought, listening closely. He told her to be quiet and to not say anything, using his forearm to gently push her back into the apartment. He pulled out his staff. 

"Sup dude and dudette!" an all too familiar voice beamed, the orange-banded turtle appearing hanging upside down from the balcony above. [Y/N] shrieked, and Donnie nearly bashed his brother in the head, sucking in a sharp breath as he accidentally backpedaled into her. Mikey waved and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, we didn't see anything...except for you two kissing, that was really unexpected!" He flipped down onto the balcony, and Donnie grumbled something, going in for a zap to his brother's plastron. Mikey dodged it, this time. Donnie tried again; unsuccessful. "Oop—saw that one coming," Mikey laughed, jovial. 

Donnie groaned, half-embarrassed and half-annoyed, "Mikey, what are you doing here?" 

Waltzing into her apartment, Mikey crossed his arms with a wink sent the human's way. "Michelangelo, wingman to the big special D right here," he introduced himself brightly, "but you can call me Mikey." 

Donnie slapped his hand to his flushed face, hoping that he was the only one who noticed Mikey's less-than-classy wording. 

"So you're all named after Renaissance painters?" asked [y/n], lifting a brow. 

Exhaling, Donnie stepped between them, "[Y/N], this is Mikey, my brother. The one that—" 

"Got you together!"

"—that got us into this predicament," he'd almost said, but he realized as Mikey said that, he owed their meeting all to him. It had all started with that talk they had had late that day, after patrol, and ended on her balcony, Donnie getting to experience a kiss for the first time. With someone he'd never imagined he would have ever been able to touch, let alone share something like that with. Yes, as much of a hassle everything up until that point had been, it was all thanks to Mikey. 

Donnie grinned, turning to his brother and draping his arm over the back of his shoulders. "Yeah, you did," he agreed. Mikey smiled as he looked down at him with fondness. He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shell in return. 

"You know it, brah. Oh, and I take cash or pi—" 

"Don't push it, younger bro." Donnie rolled his eyes. 

Waiiiiit a minute. 

Mumbling for [y/n] to hold that thought, Donnie, suspicious, crept over toward the balcony. "We"?

Mikey tried to make chatter with her while he did so, mentioning how he liked what she'd done with the place. 

He checked if the coast was clear first before leaning onto the railing on his shell, squinting his eyes. And he was not surprised at all to see Raph and Leo looking down at him from over the edge of the roof. Leo had his recognizable expression of: "You'd better wrap it up." Donnie drooped his shoulders and ducked back inside. Couldn't last forever, he thought. Despite whatever was waiting for him on the roof or at home, he could still smile on the day he'd had. He would be thinking about that kiss for weeks. 

"I guess it's bye for real this time," he told [y/n], sad to go what felt like so soon, but really was content. The night could not have gone better. "I have to, you know, go get flamed by my oldest brother. Probably."

"We'll be in touch, Donnie," she replied. "Um...text me when you get home? Just so I know you got there alright." 

Smiling, Donnie nodded. 

Mikey budded in, "Hey, don't forget about me here." 

Chuckling, Donnie headed for the door, taking Mikey but the upper arm along with him. They stopped one last time to waved to her before making their exit. 

Leo and Raph met the pair at the top. Raph was the first to speak, asking skeptically, "And yer sure this girl is alright?"

"Positive," Donnie answered with confidence. 

After a moment of trying to come up with some kind of remark, Raph let out a huff. "You got the nerve, I'll tell you that." He held out his fist ready for a bump, and when Donnie didn't immediately reciprocate, grumbled "Well? Don't leave me hangin', Don." Realizing what he wanted, Donnie went right in for the fist bump. 

Pulling away, Donnie asked, "So you're not mad?" He gave some space between himself and the incoming Leo. 

Raph scoffed lightly and shrugged. "I may not trust her, but I trust you," he responded, gruff as usual. "Just don't expect me to be all friendly and whatnot—I ain't doin' it." 

"You don't have to do anything, Raph." 

And then Donnie was face-to-face with Leo, who's intensely blue eyes were trained on him for a few seconds too long. Donnie wondered what he was thinking until he sighed, and then spoke. 

"I'm sorry." 

Behind Leo, Mikey was in awe.

"That's a new one," Raph chuffed. He left the circle to watch from the edge of the building. Mikey stuck around, but only far enough to be in ear shot. If something coming from Leo started off with a sincere "I'm sorry", he wouldn't miss it.

"Yes, you heard. I'm sorry," Leo admitted, bringing his eyes up from the ground. "I shouldn't have pressured you, Donnie. I know that you can handle yourself. I was just trying to protect you and our family," he explained, pausing to glance over at the other two brothers, "but…yeah. I'm sorry for pushing you, Don. I was kind of a jerk back there."

Deciding he didn't have any words good enough to say what he wanted to, Donnie simply pulled Leo in for half-hug, rocking him with him. Leo wore his lopsided smile as he gave Donnie's shell a slap. 

"That...was…" 

They stepped away from each other, staring at Mikey quizzically. 

"...beautiful, bros," he finished in a whisper. 

They stayed for a minute just watching the city go by, the clock ticking by later into the night. Donnie finally thought to ask Leo how Splinter was, because he definitely knew what was going down. He was a smart old man—and beside, Donnie had made no effort to pretend that wasn't what he was doing when he'd initially left. If Splinter knew, Splinter knew. He was still mildly afraid of Leo's response. 

"You want the truth?" Leo questioned, his expression briefly changing to one of a cringe. 

"I mean, I'd like to know what I'm in for," Donnie replied in an obvious manner. 

"He was angry, at first. Didn't know you left until he was done with his talk with Mikey. Also surprised that you actually went through with it. But, after that...he seemed like he understood, in a way, I guess. I didn't ask questions. You'll have to confront him about it yourself, because he just sent me and Raph out to get you." 

Donnie kept his eyes on the sidewalk below them, and the occasional person walking it. "And Mikey?" he asked, quizzical. 

"He insisted," Leo groaned. 

"You know I can't pass up an opportunity to see D get his first kiss!" 

"Oh, shut up, you had no idea that was gonna happen. You just wanted to go because me 'n Leo were goin'," Raph argued, flicking his head. "Weren't you supposed to stay in by Splinter's orders?" 

Mikey crossed his arms and turned away, "I don't have to take this abuse." He was, indeed, meant to stay behind. But the boy couldn't help himself. 

Once the banter died down, they were left contemplating whether they wanted to stay out a little longer, or if it was time to turn in. It had already been a long night, but in honesty, Donnie wasn't ready to go quite yet. He still felt as though he had so much to say to [y/n], but he supposed that time had already passed. At least until next time, if or when that was. Raph took a break from his lookout and sat next to Donnie with a grunt. He wasn't good with mush or sensitive things, but he felt compelled to ask "What're you gonna do now?" 

Donnie hummed in question.

"Well, she knows. And by the looks of things—erm—the look of one particular thing, you two are still goin' steady."

Ugh, they saw it. Donnie moaned, a cold flush coming over his face. I can't have anything private in this family.

Raph pushed him on his shoulder. "Ya shouldn't mack on someone by the doorway if ya don't wanna be seen," he jested.

"I don't know what's next, Raph," Donnie confessed. "We didn't exactly...make anything official after that."

Once they were back on the move towards home, they all dropped into the nearest manhole, but Donnie remained where he was, saying he would catch up to them. He was the fastest of the four, after all.

"I hope you're still awake," he mumbled to himself as he reached for his phone. They were close to home, anyway. And it was quiet. He typed:

"I'm almost home, [y/n]. All safe."

A couple of minutes later, she responded.

"Okay, that's good

Your brother is quite the character, by the way"

"He is who he is, lol"

"He seems nice though."

Walking down along the sewers, he took his time. What was a little longer after the night he'd had?

"Donnie, what were you going to say when Michelangelo interrupted us?"

He stopped in his tracks and thought, having nearly forgotten that he was going to actually say it. He didn't just like her—for the first time, he was sure he loved her.

"That I think I love you, [y/n]."

He regretted not saying it when he was with her, but he just couldn't wait.

There was a worrisome pause on her end in which he imagined she was staring at her screen thinking about how strong that came off, that it was uncalled for, that he was going too fast—

"I said I liked you

But that was not quite the truth

I love you, Donnie."

Golden-brown eyes sparkling, he let out a laugh, unable to contain his happiness, and the rest of the brothers smiled to themselves hearing the whoop of joy and excitement echo in the tunnel.

His adventure in love and friendship had started within a screen, but he was bound to it no longer. This was the opening of a new chapter in his life.

Tag list: @kokokatsworld @criminaly-supernatural @dianounais @spaceman-main @sheepdarkhours @raphaelsrightarm

[ktheist]

heartbreaker of mine

muses. jungkook x reader

synopsis. ah, here we are again. the overtold, cliche as hell story about two best friends who might or might not be in love with each other. except you can’t - wouldn’t dare to dream about being with jungkook.

alternatively, wherein you fell for the one who could break your heart.

words. 7.5k

universe. university / slice of life

warnings. mentions of physical insecurities; appearance, commitment issues

x

you should have known that in the absence of two of your best friends, nothing ever goes right when you decide to hang out. it isn’t the fact that you’ve known each other since diapers and basically know anything and everything about the other, that at some point you feel like your friendship is stale and need new additions - that’s where park jimin and kim taehyung comes in; a year older but several younger at heart, you couldn’t have imagined going through uni life with someone but them - but it’s the fact that realization hits you at the end of your final year that makes you drift apart. 

the fact of the matter is, you prefer the solitude of your room, the library of that one spot in the cafe that you’ve claimed as yours. and jeon jungkook prefers the blare of music, strobe lights and bodies grinding against him.

by your final year, as you receive a job offer at the company you interned in on your second year, taehyung is already working part time at the company he interned in, jimin thinking about that modeling offer he just got scouted for and jeon jungkook is getting daddies of the girls he’s having a thing with to get him to work at their office just so their daughter can see their favorite boy more - yours and jungkook’s friendship has dwindled down to mere silences as you wait for the other two to knock on the door and fill the place up with their endless bickering about whether dumplings are better than mochi.

 “shouldn’t you like, give me advice?” are the words jungkook said to you while you type away on your laptop, trying to do some light reading for tomorrow’s class before your mac gets confiscated for ‘pooping the party’ as taehyung likes to call it.

and you know what he’s talking about without even having preambles of the topic make its way into the conversation.

yet you still take off your glasses and set it down in your lap and ask, “what could jeon jungkook possibly have not known and needed advice on?”

he scrunches his nose, not appreciating your sarcasm but humors it anyway, “you know,” he shrugs, as though shrunk into the sofa from either shyness or embarrassment - you don’t know, “on like, how to start being serious about life - and settling down.”

the silence that stretches is a stale one, filled with your blank stare and jungkook’s peering eyes - even at the age of 22, the stars still glimmer like they’ve been freshly plucked from the skies.

“you want me to help pick, out of the many job offers you got from your girlfriends’ rich parents, for you to do?” is your conclusion - though if you were 2 years younger and had a little bit more faith for the boy you basically called your twin, it would have been a good natured jest. but you’re older and jungkook isn’t exactly portraying characteristics of an upstanding citizen either.

“no,” his hair brushes against his brows as he shakes his head almost too eagerly - as though he saw that coming but still got upset and wanted to prove you wrong, “like how to start taking things seriously like settling down with someone and no, not with out of my many girlfriends - can we not call them that? it makes me sound like an ass.”

it takes you less than five seconds to digest his words, eyes drifting to the white screen of your mac for the sole reason you can’t bear to hold his intense gaze while you conjure up a response, “well for one, you are but there’s honestly nothing i can tell you that you don’t know already and there’s nothing i can possibly say to make you want to change - it has to come from you. or like, a professional that could help and if you think you need one, i’ll be with you all step-“

the brief scoff is what puts a rest to your racing thoughts while the smile on his lips put your heart at ease, “i’m not addicted to sex.”

“oh, okay.” is all you say, not seeing where the conversation is going as you watch the boy scratch the back of his ear, lips pulled into a pout - one way you know he’s trying to strum words into existence. and when he does, confused is an understatement to describe what your face is portraying.

“okay,  i’m saying if and if you’re looking for a husband, no, scratch that, would you even introduce someone like me to your parents?” but that’s the thing, you’re not confused because you don’t know where this is going but you’re confused because you don’t pretend to be oblivious.

but you’re also not a master at the art of heart-to-hearts and the gargantuan elephant that it brings. so you settle with a, “uh, i don’t know, you already know my parents, don’t know how i can reverse that and reintroduce you-“

“that’s not the point,” he blinks, the sight almost endearing as he freezes in his spot for a split second in contemplation of how to approach the matter and explain it to you who seem like you’re way off, “the point is-“

“i get it.”  you nod, arms crossing over your chest as jungkook’s wide eyes peers into you like a mixture of relief anticipation.

“you do?”

“you’re worried if your future partner will be insecure about the bodies you’ve seen before them,” there’s a knock on the door just as you’ve finished speaking.

as you get up to get up to answer it, knowing already who’s there from the obnoxious chatters - more like argument - you’re not sure if your brain is playing tricks on you or if jungkook’s shoulder line really falls as well as his face.

but the, “uh, yeah, i guess,” is what makes you push the image of dimmed stars and downturned pink lips to the back of your mind as you unlock the door, welcoming the two halfway-into-a-deep-quarreling men and their two bags of take-away roasted chicken, chips, mashed potatoes and whatever else they thought necessary to fill the game night with.

“thanks, shortcake,” taehyung smiles at you after you take a plastic bags off his and jimin’s hands and proceed to place it on the coffee table.

“tae, you’re literally taller than everyone,” throwing him a side glance, you shrug as you begin taking out the packed chicken wings and placing it in front of jungkook while taehyung helps with unpacking the add-ons from another bag, “calling me short isn’t exactly an insult.”

“i’m just saying we should demolish mint chocolate chips all at once,” jimin plops down on the couch adjacent to jungkook, “and no, we can’t let these savages go eating them - we need to educate-“

somewhere in the middle of jimin’s colonial-esque speech, you turn to the boy who’s never said a word since the two came in. not that those too needed an additional converse partner with how taehyung is advocating for leaving mint chocolate chip eaters alone and jimin staying with his stance that these people haven’t had a taste of all flavors in the world yet.

the way he seems to look at something past your shoulders tells you enough - he’s still deep in his thoughts about settling down, or changing or whatever. you don’t know why exactly he wants to change his heartbreaker ways but- “there’s nothing wrong with two adults having a - or multiple - consensual sexual relationship prior to finding their significant other. and if they have a problem with that then that’s something they need to work on, not you so no, i don’t think you should change anything unless you want to.”

x

it’s some days later that taehyung brings up the remnant of the conversation he overheard before the four of you began arguing about what movie to watch and ended up putting the fate of humanity in rock paper scissors. and so you tell him, without ever thinking of the one thing that spurred his ridiculous thought and the hesitance of pouring it onto you.

“don’t look at me, i’m not snitching.” jimin’s round, disbelieved eyes stares back at taehyung as though surprised the latter would ever think he’d do such a thing.

“okay but someone’s gotta tell her.” taehyung lowly mumbles, upper body turned to jimin, gracing you with his beautiful side profile - whoever gets to date him will forever be the lucky one.

“guys, i’m literally right here.” the sound of your voice warrants a turn of heads and a wide-eyed stare as though they’re seeing your ghost rather than your physical form that entered and picked a spot together with them.

it takes a moment for the elephant to settle somewhere in the corner and crush you with its invisible weight before taehyung turns to you, hand behind his mouth as he fake coughs into it. then, another moment for you to register taehyung’s words as you watch his mouth move and his gaze trained on you like a father teaching his daughter a life-lesson before he lets her out into the world. once his mouth stops moving and a second passes for you to take in the information, only two words leave your lips.

“you trippin’,” with a half-manic smile and brows knitted together, you look almost like you’re made for the asylum- but understandably, your admittance is overdue.

as your heart palpitate inside the confines of your rib cages and the scene from that night replays at the back of your eyes like a broken record - jungkook’s hesitant glance, the windows to his soul shutting tight with hesitance and the teeth that traps his lower lips as though his body is forbidding him to say whatever his heart and mind wanted - as much as it pains you to admit it, the signs were all there.

you just didn’t want to admit it.

that’s what pining over a best friend you’ve known for over a decade does.

the denial that comes after realizing you don’t want anyone else to touch jungkook when im nayoung stood on her tippy toes and pecked jungkook’s lips before running off with a flustered expression - you were both in elementary and jungkook was more into sleepovers with the abundance of plushies you had than hanging with ‘other kids’.

then comes the ugly head of self-loathing and guilt as you fixed park jihyo a smile as jungkook introduced you two. one, as his girlfriend and the other, his best friend.

both, in love with him.

it’s ugly and disgusting, jealousy that is. but you’re uglier for smiling and laughing with jihyo over the things you would with a best friend who’s a girl - there were things you couldn’t share with jungkook as a girl. but you’d let your eyes linger a second too on them as they shared a peck when he’d meet you too in front of the school gate after his extra class was over - you lost count of the times you wished you were her.

you carried the pathetic little mask of a smile to uni. by then, jungkook had broken up with jihyo. there was a lot of tears and consoling and empty words of assurance.

“hey, if you guys are meant to be, you’ll meet again someway somehow.” you’d fixed her an encouraging smile as your heart bloomed with hope for when you’ll get jungkook’s attention all to yourself once you start uni.

getting into the same one had been pure luck.

it didn’t bring you far though. jungkook started gaining attention for his friendly nature and bunny smile that attracted both males and females. it wasn’t long until he’s bringing you to parties where he’d keep you by his side because he knew you didn’t know most of these people. tried to get you involved in the conversation but there was nothing interesting about the dude who drank himself silly and woke up in front of an old lady’s door butt naked or about that girl who woke up a five minutes before class in a city an hour away from where her dorm is.

well, at least, none of them seemed like jungkook’s type. he never had a girlfriend throughout his years in uni though he had plenty of other experiences that makes you wonder what in the world he hasn’t tried yet.

being in a relationship, is probably the only thing he hasn’t done.

jungkook liked kind people. ones that didn’t point at a random person and say an offhanded comment and collectively laugh about it. someone that laughs and smiles a lot because and didn’t have a single bad bone in their body.

liked.

because you don’t know what kind of person jungkook likes now. but you never thought him asking a hypothetical question from what seems like another person's perspective about his lifestyle would be, as taehyung calls it-

“i’m telling you,” he slams a hand on the table, a loud pap! resonating in the air but he doesn’t seem bothered by the pain - if there is any - as his eyes bore into you, “that was jungkook shooting his shot!”

“i don’t know,” you take a sip from the metal straw of your matte black tumbler for the sake of doing something, “it doesn’t feel real but i can kind of see it?”

“take it for what it is, love,” the pull of his eyebrows together couldn’t have been more frustrating, “jungkook has every reason to have the fattest crush on you - i mean look at you, you’re funny, adorable and nicer than all his friends combined.”

jungkook has multiple friend groups he hangs out with. funny how you started out as duos and merged into a quadruplet and ended up being that friend group that jeon jungkook doesn’t really look like he fits in but he’s probably hanging out with you guys from time to time because you’d known each other the longest. or so word has it.

“that’s basically everyone who’s not his friends.” with an eye roll, you wrap your mouth around the straw. this time, for the sake of hiding the smile that threatens to bloom on your face as it is in your heart.

x

and that’s how you find yourself in more than one ‘don’t you dare’ moments. jimin has begun randomly pointing out something about your hair accessory to your clothes to your fucking strawberry printed socks. 

to prove a point, he said.

“hey beautiful,” oh, and he’s resorted to calling you all the adjectives in the world - but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work in making jungkook’s face scrunch in displeasure for the briefest moment as he glances at jimin as though he’s an adjective away from beating the man into a bloody pulp, “nice shirt.”

despite knowing the comment is every bit staged - and probably doesn’t mean that your minnie and mickey mouse shirt is anywhere compliment-worthy, you still look down at the two mice, one kissing the other on the cheek.

the “uh, thanks,” couldn’t have been more dubious and skeptic.

and so begins jimin’s not-so-secret mission to bring jungkook’s attention to you.

“isn’t the stickers on ___’s mac cute, jungkook?” 

jungkook skims at the grizzly, panda and ice bears scattered across your mac before breaking into a smug smirk, “of course they are, i bought them for ___.”

you can almost hear jimin and taehyung high-fiving on the row behind you just as the professor walks in.

while jungkook seems to oblivious to it all, eyes trained to the display on the on the front, you allow yourself to indulge in the heat that seeps through your pores and warms your heart.

it’s not like jungkook stopped going to parties.

but finals season is almost upon you and he’s been hanging out with you more. sitting next to you in class while jimin and taehyung dozes off at the back. 

“they sleep in class just to spend hours on end studying at the library,” jungkook huffs, eyebrows knitting together adorably as he stresses over your two friends’ stamina for sitting in one place for six hours straight and only needing a bottle of water at their disposal, “i mean, why can’t they just focus in class so they don’t have to study a whole semester’s worth of syllabus in the last minute and drag us into it?”

the six hour mark ended and they’re out getting some snacks for you to secretly munch on until the library closes.

“i mean,” you begin, eyebrows jolting upwards at the more-than-obvious fact he’s supposed to already know, “you technically came here with your own free will, you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

another sigh hits the air as the boy slams his onto the book he has open in front of him, “yeah, but i need to study to pass and i needed you guys to push me,” he laments.

ever since then, there’d been far too many moments of where you’re stuck with jungkook to wait for the two non-time-abiding asses. at first, excuses like ‘sorry we’re late, we were getting mcdonald’s’ or some other poor fast food restaurants’ name that became the patsy, but they started dwindling to ‘oh hey, sorry, we didn’t notice the time’ and eventually a ‘hey, jimin’s got a meeting with a professor and he’s my ride so you guys go first’.

and before you know it, finals pass and you’re visiting your hometown while jungkook stuck around for a part-time job with taehyung whilst jimin drops off the face of the earth after having mentioned that he’s going on a family vacation at some private island with apparently the worst wifi connection ‘like ever.’

the two now-co-workers keep spamming the group chat with pictures of them in their uniforms, holding different drinks which they personally every time. when you’re staying over with your grandmother, it’s your turn to spam pictures of her great black cat who seem to only like sitting in her lap and glaring at you in every picture you take of the two watching tv together. almost as if he had a sixth sense when it comes to cameras.

“when are you coming back?” jungkook grumbles from the other end of line.

you’ve just got a shower and he’s just got home from a night shift. he’s probably haven’t even taken off his jacket yet when he proposed calling you like the sporadic times you both did throughout the break.

“i don’t know. i don’t feel like going back maybe even until the ceremony,” you confess, half-meaning it. the gardening, and saying hello’s to everyone you see while buying groceries because everyone knows everyone here, and the best-tasting cookies your grandma make, and waking up to her cat suffocating you in your sleep, isn’t so bad.

“i’m dying here,” he sighs, sounding more relaxed and probably lying on his bed now, “if i have to insist that i can’t ‘reheat’ coffee and can only make a new one and end up having to hide in the kitchen for five seconds to pretend like there’s a secret microwave only for coffees,” he says all in one breath before letting a suspenseful silence hang in the air and then finally revealing the next big thing he’ll do, “i’m seriously going to spit in their coffee while in the kitchen pretending to reheat it with an invisible microwave.”

the laughter that tumbles out of your mouth is probably ugly and you probably snorted a couple times but jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. or care as he keeps insisting ‘i’m really gonna do it’ whilst you end up laughing until your stomach hurts and tears begin to prick your eyes.

“is this the same regular that like, wants their coffee like super hot?” you finally manage to ask, traces of laughter still threatening to spill from your lips.

“yeah,” his sounds impressed, “how’d you know?”

“tae told me,” you make an incredulous face and shrug even though he can’t see, “you do realize you work at the same place, right?”

“yeah but i never see him talk about it in the group but i probably missed it-”

“oh no,” your hand goes up in a dismissive wave, “we talk on the phone and he told me about it.”

“you guys talk on the phone too?” there’s a strain in his voice, possibly out of surprise.

“yeah, like every day.” you say, tongue subconsciously lapping over your bottom lip.

“oh,” is all he says for the longest moment before chirping out the billion dollar question, “why aren’t we talking every day?”

“i don’t know,” your shoulder line rises, almost swallowing your neck as a war breaks out within yourself, “we did try at the beginning of break but you always had a party to go to so...”

“oh,” this ‘oh’ is a little bit dejected and perhaps hits a little different before he continues, “i don’t go to those anymore.”

this time, it’s your jaw that falls. your voice is small, almost as though cautiously teetering on tightrope as you ask, “...why not?”

“i just didn’t see the point of going anymore you know? once we graduate, i won’t even talk to these people anymore - but i wanna continue being friends with you guys.”

the ‘you guys’ meaning you, taehyung and jimin. the bros. the homies. it’s no secret that he probably sees you all as the same gender, not a guy nor a girl but just friends.

well. it’s not the first time jungkook’s friendzoned you.

“that’s great,” you can’t help but nod even though you know he can’t see you, “i wanna keep being friends with you too, jungkook.”

ever since then, you talk almost everyday. sometimes in three’s and when taehyung had a shift and jungkook got off his, it’d just be the two of you. and for the first time, in ages, it feels as though the ‘best’ in your friendship has somewhat reintroduced itself once more. jimin somewhat manages to get a connection somewhere along the way and the first thing he did was complain about the three digit number in a red bubble in the corner of the message app and then managing to get one picture of him in flowery trunks, and a baby monkey eating a banana perched on his shoulder with the beach in the background before disappearing for the rest of the month until two weeks before the graduation ceremony.

“so like, do you have anyone to pick you up?” jungkook asks from he other end of the line. he sounds more free since it’s the last day of his job.

“yeah,” you announce, attentiveness laced in your tone for your next words might be indicative enough, “my sister.”

“what.” he drags out the word in a disbelieving tone and it’s no secret why he’s doing that- “i haven’t seen you in ages! and you’re going to your sister’s? wait - this isn’t like a permanent thing right? we’ll get to hang out before the ceremony, right?”

it takes you a moment to register the series of questions he bombarded you with and before you know it, the silence has already turned your voice into a small and guilt-ridden, “um, yes and no?”

a groan.

“i haven’t seen seulgi in forever too and she kept nagging me to visit her during break but i never did so now she has like a whole week’s worth of itinerary planned out for us to do before the ceremony,” the excuse trickles out of your mouth hurriedly, “jungkook, i have to do this, or the next time we’ll meet it’s at my funeral and you’ll be talking to my dead carcass before they bury me.”

it takes a moment of anticipating silence before he grumbles out a “fine. but after that, you’re staying over at my place.”

“okay but i mean if we’re having stay over’s wouldn’t tae’s place be better since he has a whole ass apartment for himself?” you’re at that point where you’re discussing stay over arrangements before actually consulting the owner of the place.

“i guess,” his voice is a little lower and smaller but it revives at the mention of the new pizza place that just opened before you decided to invite the other two in the call to make plans to visit there.

when the day finally comes for you to don the royal blue robe and cap, you do so with barely enough grace and composure for someone who’s about to receive her blood sweat and tears on a stage all because you and your sister are - this must be karma for shading taehyung and jimin for being - a bunch of non-time-abiding asses.

the double doors are almost closed as you struggle with not tripping on your high heels whilst trying to keep your hair out of your face.

“where have you been?” you almost didn’t recognize the golden man who tapped you on your shoulder from behind.

“jimin! you made it!” is the first thing you say.

“rich coming from someone who barely got to her seat in time,” he gives you a once over and you’re not quite sure what he sees because your back which he’ll be looking most at is clad is oversized blue robe. but despite that, you reach out to give his hand a squeeze and he takes it with just as a tight, ‘we made it’ kind of squeeze before you turn to the chancellor that’s beginning his speech.

you’re not sure which row jungkook is at or if he even sees you and you read taehyung’s ‘i feel like a proud momma’ text because his major adds another year to his studies than you, jimin and jungkook.

the ceremony goes on without a hitch and you’d like to believe your picture is as perfect as your make up which your sister claims to be ‘out of this world!’ - only because it’s her that did it.

“so you guys talk everyday?” jimin pulls you into him, a smile gracing his beautifully tanned skin as he steals a glance at something behind your shoulders - possibly jungkook whom you saw was being swarmed by his friends to take pictures with.

“yeah, i guess,” you casually say with a shrug.

“it’s true, i was there,” taehyung comes up next to you, replacing jimin’s arms with his in a side hug.

“man, i really wish i witness it all,” jimin grumbles, “but the connection on that island was shitty.”

“i’m sure you connected in different ways,” the taller man adds, a strain in his voice which the shorter doesn’t seem to notice as he try to wave off the belatedly relayed fact that his family is a different kind of family.

like the kind that invites sex workers and other business colleagues alike to enjoy themselves for as long as they wanted, as long as the park family was there.

“okay but how long is he going to take?” jimin quizzes, eyebrows soaring whilst you and taehyung follow his gaze to the growing size of people a few feet away who clearly look like they’re here for a photoshoot than a simple graduation ceremony, “my parents kinda skipped work to see me go on stage and get a piece of paper they paid a lot for so i kinda want to get the family pic done before i go to my second family...”

time doesn’t seem to stop like they do in the movies. it happens all too fast, in fact - jimin’s voice fading into the background, the countdown of the person taking the picture of the group of graduates jungkook’s in starting from three, two, one! and a girl with the prettiest curls that seem to bounce as she turns around and stick her tongue into jungkook’s mouth.

it must have been your uncanny silence that draws the attention of the two boys and a ‘oh shit...’ from one of them - you’re not sure who even though taehyung and jimin has two distinctly sounding voice.

all you’re sure of is the involuntary movements of your feet as they carry you away from the scene. your eyes are dry but that’s probably only because your brain hasn’t registered what exactly happened though deep down, you’re perfectly aware of the fact that those daily calls, the spams of good mornings and randomly sending each other selfies were nothing more than exchanges between two people who were onlu ever connected through a childhood bond that got translated into best friendship just because there was no other name for knowing someone for so long even though you probably stopped being friends first year of college.

“___! wait!” someone calls for you and you wish it so badly to be jungkook but you know better than to expect for the impossible. a modern day fairy tale.

“hey, don’t cry. jungkook’s a fucking dick,” the tall stature that finally caught up to you and trapped you in his arms, whispers. gentle, understanding and pitiful.

it’s not just the comforting warmth, it’s also the hand that’s rubbing your back that you know is probably jimin’s that makes you break out into your first sob. whilst the day isn’t exactly free of tears, those who did shed them did it out of gratitude and a sort of ‘i did it’ kind of relief but not you.

today, your cheeks are marred by the excruciating pain of a heartbreak. you might as well tear your chest open, take out the beating organ and hand it over to jungkook so he could crush them with his own two hands.

maybe it’d hurt less.

somewhere amidst your fit, you choke on your laughter as you catch the two bickering.

“that’s not how you comfort a crying lady, taehyung, what the fuck?” jimin doesn’t hold back with his colorful words.

“what? what did i do?” the taller man sounds all the more confused but still pass you on to the shorter one like a gift basket when a hand pulls you into another pair of arms.

a hand patting your head as jimin murmurs, “there, there, you’re going to be okay, sweetie,” he hugs you just a tad bit tighter as though to say i promise, “you’re young, you’re beautiful and you just graduated with honors. in five years you won’t even remember your little crush for jungcockhead.”

you would have laughed if not for the shadow in your periphery stopping dead in its trek just a few feet away from you and close enough to hear every word jimin uttered in his attempt to placate your rising desire to flee the scene.

“what?” even a simple syllable is enough to tell you who the voice belongs to. perhaps it’s because you’ve heard it in real life and on the phone countless times and countless more during the span where he worked sporadic shifts and you were gardening and getting scratched by your grandmother’s cat that you tried relentlessly to befriend.

“nothing, jungkook.” you wish it was you who said it but it’s jimin who’s hugging you tighter like a mother comforting their heartbroken child, “why don’t you go back to your girlfriend and stick your face where it’s actually wanted?”

almost as though physically slapped in the face.

with a brick.

jungkook’s shoulder line jolts as he flinches, brows knitting together as you can almost see the rewind of the moment your heart gets split in two. she has the prettiest, softest tanned complexion, luscious curls and body that fits the definition of a glowed-up.

he takes one step forward but stops when you shrink into jimin’s arms, almost as though seeking protection. but it takes everything in you not to run to him and make up an excuse about feeling hot and stuffy and that being the reason you left, when the crestfallen expression mars his otherwise ever-smiling features. 

“that wasn’t what you thought it was-” you could almost swear he chokes at the end of his words but the pause is too short to tell, “i left her as soon as i saw you running off.”

“oh my god, cut the bullshit! this isn’t the first time and this won’t be the last. don’t talk to ___, don’t even look at her, douchebag,” the rumble of jimin’s voice vibrates against you as he pokes taehyung in the rib, making the boy cry out in pain.

the assaulted man has half a mind to ask for further instructions when he turns to you and jimin but decides against it, squaring up his shoulders and placing a warning hand, “just leave, man. ___ clearly doesn’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“ever.” jimin half-shouts.

those deep brown eyes search for yours as though holding on the last strand of what you call best friendship - hoping, wishing that it isn’t true. but as soon as they find your puffy eyes, you throw your gaze to the ground, finding the crack in the asphalt in a better state than your heart.

you can only imagine jungkook’s face falling at your refusal to affirm the strength of years’ worth of friendship. because the fact of the matter is, you’re not so sure if you want to keep pretending to be oblivious as he wraps his arms around another person and kiss them like he means it.

x

“___,” the bed dips as you feel the weight of the blanket get yanked off you. seulgi’s sweet peaches perfume filling your senses, “get up, it’s been days since you had an actual meal.”

“i’m not hungry,” you grumble against the pillow just as your stomach starts making the most monstrous sound ever existed in history of mankind.

“yeah right,” she scoffs but her hand on your arm is warm and soothing, “come on, please eat something - i’m saying ‘please’ here and you know i never say ‘please’. people say ‘please’ to me.” 

you can’t help but laugh at that. seulgi’s never truly begged anyone for anything in her entire life. she would have asked once and left you be until you were done moping around over jungkook getting with jihyo. it was after you did get over your first heartbreak, did she get you ice cream and you’d spent the night in her room with fairy lights and forts, watching the notebook.

“don’t let a boy hurt you like that again, ___, promise me.” she held up a pinky, and yours felt like a ton of weight just dropped over you.

in the end, you hooked your pink with hers and made a promise of sisterhood.

but she hadn’t been there when you needed your off days in college when rumors started spreading about jungkook and a different girl every week.

the wounds to your ever bleeding heart don’t heal. but you got used to picking yourself up and you got better at that with that one class you failed, that one presentation you blew, the humiliating mistake you made in front of your supervisor and every time after that. seulgi had her own ways to deal with problems and you had yours - or maybe patching yourself up after a fuck up was more of your forte.

who knows?

“what’s for dinner?”

“really?” at your inquiry, the face you thought would light up like a christmas tree - doesn’t. if anything, she bites her bottom lip just like you just caught her red-handed for doing something you probably won’t like.

“what?” you ask plainly, at this point, you won’t even be surprised if she said the sky is falling.

it’s not.

but her next words are far more foreboding than the end of the world, “look, jungkook came over like he always did everyday since that day and today i wanted him to stop coming for good so i told him if you at least have the energy to get some food, i’d let him see you,” her eyes glimmer with a sort of remorse that you can’t even hold her against.

“then can’t you tell him i still don’t wanna eat?” is what you say, completely unperturbed or rather not registering the fact that your best friend whom you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember is in your sister’s living room because he probably heard about your hunger strike. 

but the only problem is, he’s not in the living room-

“he’s right outside the room. i told him he can stand there and see for himself how bad he fucked you over so he’ll feel bad enough to leave you alone.” she says in a hurried whisper, eyes glancing to the half-agape door every second.

a spark lights up inside you, like smolders blown by wind and flares into flames, “seriously? you couldn’t talk to me first about it?”

her eyebrows furrow as her mouth opens and closes for a moment before she confesses, “...i didn’t think you’d say yes to lunch.”

“whatever just-” you tear your gaze away from your sister’s involuntary puppy eyes just so you wouldn’t end up clawing them out yourself, “...just go, seulgi.”

for the longest yet briefest moment, the only thing you can hear in the room is your steady breathing. the flame still burns but it doesn’t flare into a raging fireball. and you know full well it probably isn’t easy for jungkook to pass to through the door after having heard how you reacted when you found out he’s just outside.

when he does, he doesn’t even hide the way his doe eyes shine with something you can’t pinpoint as he takes you in. all of you. with your mused, oily hair and three day’s worth of hoodie and puffed eyes.

“hey,” he murmurs ever so softly, the bed dipping where seulgi sat.

you echo the same greeting back but with a hoarser voice compared to his velvet one.

“so, what do you want for dinner?” he begins, cautious eyes finding yours.

“i don’t want it anymore,” is all you say as you shrug casually.

“oh.” he sounds fragile. nothing at all like the self-assured jeon jungkook you’ve come to know.

silence fills the room like a big, blue elephant. seconds stretch on into minutes and you find yourself leaning against the headboard, drawing invisible patterns over the sheets while jungkook-

you don’t know what he’s doing. he could be fiddling with his fingers like how 10-year-old him would whenever you met at your favorite spot after a fight. but you’re both no where near 10 and if there’s any traces of the boy you once called your best friend, it’s probably only his appearance that’s never really changed.

either way, you don’t dare to even steal a glance his way.

“i like you too.”

the words hit the air like a drop of water that vaporized faster than what science dictates it too. you almost thought you were hearing things if not for the way he looks at you. as though waiting for something. anything.

“i...” you trail off before shaking your head, almost as though coming to your senses, “i can’t do this.”

jungkook laughs awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his head, “yeah, i understand - i’m sorry i- i just wanted to make sure you’re fine and then i got carried away- i should leave.”

but before he takes a step towards the door, you call for him, “jungkook, wait.”

“i’m leaving for japan in two days,” you finally let the cat out of the bag.

“what?” comes out a second later - you don’t dare to look up from your hands to see what kind of emotion he’s making.

but he at least deserves an explanation, “for the longest time, i feel fucked up because i get so jealous of the girls that dated you...” taking a deep breath, you continue, “but i know it’s because i think i’m not enough-”

“you are - you’re more than enough,” the interjection is what makes you look up involuntarily, if not to confirm it yourself - the knitted eyebrows and heartbroken gaze proves it and then the sinking realization settles in, “but you don’t believe me.”

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your lips, “i’m not enough for me and that’s something i have to work with.”

“by running away?” his voice rises to the ceiling, confusion and frustration pooling in his eyes.

“by finding myself,” you correct, “you know like how people go to a different country and come back a different person except i’m hoping to find that person.”

“in japan,” he sounds like he’s a word away from hooking you up with a specialist - not that you haven’t thought of one but-

you laugh and he looks at you like he’s stuck in the middle of a never ending maze, “my mom’s planning to visit my aunt in japan and since i’m officially unemployed i guess, i’m tagging along.”

“oh,” his shoulder line sags as he sighs in relief, “so like a vacation.”

it tenses back up when you say, “i might look for a job there.”

“you’re permanently moving to japan?” jungkook’s body seems to be here but his conscience seems to have flown out - probably to japan.

you want to laugh but it doesn’t seem like a proper setting for it. especially when you’re confessing to your crush that you like him but also subtly admitting that he’s partly the reason you’re leaving the life you know for a new one. and you might not even do it willingly.

“i might find a job with a branch company in korea - work there for a year and then transfer here,” you shrug, “i don’t know.”

“i-is this because-” he starts but you shake your head.

“yes and no?” you say, “none of this is your fault but i’m projecting my frustrations onto you and this isn’t healthy... i need- i need to go away for awhile and figure myself out.”

and that’s how jeon jungkook finally comes to the realization that nothing’s been the same. you haven’t been the best friend you prided yourself to be for a long time and that best friend completely disappeared in second year of college after he started spending nights at parties and only lunches with you. until eventually, you’re stuck in a habit - a cycle that you can’t break from until something dramatic or life changing happens.

and so it goes, he sees you off at the airport with taehyung and jimin. unsure of whether they were still friends after they’d deliberately stopped him from running after you on your graduation day, they were the first to approach him. they understood that it’d only be worse if he chased after you but they didn’t hate him - dislike him at times when - as they called it - he was so damn clueless, yes but they didn’t hate him. and that was a relief.

nothing major changed. he moved in with taehyung and jimin and even got a job at the same company as jimin. you went off radar but still kept in contact every once in awhile - it was like that time jimin went to that private island except you had all the reception you needed, just not the time to text as much as you used to.

job hunting was tough and he understood the competition. when you got a job, you were plagued with a newbie’s role, having to do overtimes to finish up work that was piling before they gave you that position.

then one year turned to two and two years turned to three. jungkook became a manager while jimin took up the position as a secretary in their rival company - it’s funny because everyone at the office would shit-talk him and they would make fun of those people as they drink into the night.

jungkook lost contact with most of his party friends - they were great with hooking him up with a potential client but besides that, he was basically living the workaholic life with his two apartment mates as his only source of social interaction outside of work.

from meetings to gatherings to meetings and then private dinners with clients. the cycle goes on until that one evening where arrives at an invites-only event.

“jungkook, come here,” the director gestures him over and because there’s a server blocking his view, he only notices the girl standing in front of his superior, when he’s finally by his side.

“...a hardworker - every project he’s ever handled hits the internet like a boom!” the director was saying.

“ah jungkook,” the man taps him on his shoulder but he can barely feel it when his eyes are trained on you, stunning in that deep toned dress and new hairstyle, “meet ___, you guys will be working on the twin tower project together.”

x

“so you’re back for good?” he asks when you’re finally alone, lingering at the balcony and away from your superior’s eyes.

“not quite - i still have to fly to japan every week,” you shrug casually.

“oh,” he nods.

“you look great by the way,” he adds a moment later, scuffing his foot against the floor.

you can’t help but giggle at how boyish he is, even at the age of 25, he still acts like a child, “thanks - you don’t look half bad yourself.”

he echoes a “thanks” as well before throwing his gaze over the magnificient view of the cityscape. artificial lights from the buildings appear like stagnant fireflies. it’s sad that they’re the reason you can’t see stars anymore.

but fate is too cruel.

because hoseok, your partner is calling you over - a couple of middle aged people standing next to him, smiling that mechanical smile that isn’t any different from your business smile.

“i gotta go,” you sigh but shoot him one last melancholy smile, “i’ll see you this monday?”

“yeah, see you this monday.” jungkook smiles a smile that says he’s not so sure where you stand. colleagues. ex-best friends. acquaintances?

with a wave goodbye, he watches as you strut to the couple, transforming into a woman so sure of every gesture, even a smile and a throw of your head back as you laugh. everything you do, every movement you make is mesmerizing. 

and he knows he’s not the only one who thinks so as he watches your partner gaze at you with eyes that doesn’t seem to see anyone else but you. laughs at something you say as if he’s completely enchanted.

jungkook turns around, hand propped on the railing as he takes a sip of the wine he’s been holding. without realizing it, a smile slips onto his face, he makes a mental note to check your company’s dating policy.

most forbid office romances anyway.

x

note. i’ve had this in the draft for forever! and thought i was never gonna finish this but i somehow got a burst of inspiration yesterday and here we are! hope yall enjoyed!

[iloveyou3thousand]

Tony gets possessive when Peter is getting seduced by someone. Request

Yes! Yess!!! I also got kind of into writing Peter/Harry so I might have made myself ship it now but no matter. Enjoy :p

CW: possessive!Tony, jealous!Tony, and a little Harry Osborn/Peter Parker

——————————————————————————————

Tony had never really insisted Peter get involved in anything too public. He seemed to prefer to keep things on the down low with Spider-Man in the public eye and Peter Parker outside of it. Peter didn’t mind because he’d seen and sometimes even kind of experienced the kind of things Tony had to go through on a daily basis and he wasn’t sure that he could keep up something like that. And besides, keeping his identities separated allowed him to just be Peter when he wanted to be. Tony was always, in the public eye in one way or another, also Iron Man.

But Peter and Tony had been working on a project together and while it had started out as just a bit of fun, it was growing into something that the market might genuinely be interested in and it was quickly gaining traction in the right spaces when Tony had initially proposed their ideas.

Fast forward several months later, their project was completed, and to promote their new product they were going to hold a fundraiser.

And people were starting to get curious who Tony had been working with all this time.

It was no secret that he didn’t work alone, but so far they’d kept Peter in the shadows. They’d discussed their options time and time again and eventually came to the conclusion that if they didn’t introduce Peter now, it might start to work against them.

Besides, surely it couldn’t hurt if Peter was in the spotlight as Tony’s right hand for just a little while? After that he’d go back into the shadows where he liked to think he belonged.

So Tony threw a fundraiser, and Peter got all donned up, feeling a little ridiculous but looking, according to Tony, at the top of your game.

And hey, maybe this would be fun, right?

They arrived at the party separately so that people would remain unassuming until the minute Tony called Peter forward to introduce him, and when he did the applause was thunderous. Thankfully Tony didn’t hand him the microphone to introduce himself because he would have fudged through whatever sentence his nervous mind managed to conjure up, and that’s not the image of him that he wanted to give people right off the bat.

After that the rest of the party was all champagne and chatting to people he didn’t know but had some important job or another. He felt a little out of place between all those rich people with their big words and their very specific taste in wine.

Tony tried to stick by him for the most part but he sometimes had to leave Peter’s side to go talk to someone he reassured Peter the boy didn’t even want to know.

That’s when a tall, slightly younger gentleman in comparison to the general crowd, came up to Peter with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

“Harry Osborn. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter took the hand and shook it, firing the guy a polite smile of his own. He’d heard his name before, of course. Osborn was a bit of a staple around New York City, but other than that he didn’t know much about the family that ran the company Oscorp. Harry seemed nice enough. Had a nice smile. Great jawline.

“Peter,” Peter blurted out when he realized he’d been shaking Harry’s hand just a touch too long and staring, “You don’t have to…call me Mr. Parker.”

“Right,” Harry said, and Peter absently noticed he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, “You don’t have to call me Mr. Osborn either. Just Harry’s fine. Don’t tell him, but I like to think I’m a little bit independent from my father.”

Peter made a vague noise.

“You must know him. Right? Norman Osborn? Creator of Oscorp?”

“Mhm! Yeah, no, of course I know him. I just don’t know why you’d want that when your father’s so…”

“Famous?”

Peter shrugged.

“I guess it’s just a little teenage rebellion then.” Harry’s smile this time showed a flash of teeth.

Being the first person to talk to him that seemed a little closer to his age, Peter found himself enjoying talking to him quite a bit. They had similar interests, both loved science fiction, and Harry could give him some tips and tricks on how to deal with suddenly being in the general spotlight for something.

It also helped that Harry was so damn friendly. He kept touching Peter’s arm of his shoulder or back, offered to get him a refill on his drink when he was out, he was achingly funny when the initial awkwardness between them had subsided, and he really did smile a lot, and laughed at Peter’s stupid attempts at jokes.

The first time his senses told him someone was looking at him, Peter tried to subtly glance around himself to catch whoever was doing it, but he didn’t notice anyone in particular.

The second time he felt it, he caught Tony looking, but he assumed he was just checking in on him, and so Peter gave him a big smile and a discreet little wave and Tony flashed him a smile of his own and threw him a wink, which to Peter came across as something along the lines of ‘hope you’re enjoying yourself’, or ‘you’re doing great’.

The third time he noticed it, it was when Harry was leaning in close, a hand on the small of Peter’s back and his lips barely brushing his ear, talking lowly over the hum of the crowd around them. Peter’s eyes met Tony’s once again, but this time Tony didn’t smile. His expression was ever so slightly pinched, and even from that distance Peter could see that his jaw was clenched. He immediately felt like something was wrong. But people passed by in the path between them, and when they were gone again, so was Tony.

Peter almost thought he hadn’t seen it. Maybe he’d imagined it.

Whatever was the case, the night ended soon after that.

Not because the party ended, but because suddenly Tony was by his side, an arm around his waist, looking to Harry.

“Mr. Osborn,” Tony greeted, though his voice didn’t sound welcoming in the slightest.

Peter noticed that Harry didn’t correct Tony when he called him that. The atmosphere suddenly felt a little too tense for comfort, like the mood had abruptly shifted the second Tony arrived. It was also undeniable that Tony’s hand was curled around Peter’s hip very tightly, thumb pressing firmly into the small of his back, the flesh of his hip.

“Mr. Stark. Great party.” Harry’s smile wasn’t entirely gone, but it might as well have been.

“It’s time we go home, Peter. Let’s finish up.” Tony looked at him, but Peter couldn’t read his expression. He started to protest lightly, because he’d been having a good time with Harry and honestly he wouldn’t mind if they stuck around for a little bit longer, but Tony’s grip on his hip tightened, and Peter went quiet.

He turned back to Harry.

“It was nice to meet you, Harry. Yeah, um. Maybe we’ll see each other again some time? I think that’d be nice. I hope you have a good night.”

Harry’s expression softened a touch when he looked at Peter, “Goodnight, Peter. Lovely to meet you too.”

Tony had Peter steered away and was leading him toward the exit before Harry could even finish his sentence properly, and Peter almost felt like he had to jog to keep up with the pace.

“Mr. Stark—” Peter protested, and Tony slowed down just a touch, but only because it seemed like they were being watched by the people around them.

A car stood waiting outside, and Tony helped Peter into it. Peter was almost convinced that he’d close the door behind him and send him off homeward but much to his surprise Tony gestured for him to scoot, and he got in after him, before closing the door and reaching over to knock twice on the partition between the backseat and the driver. Peter assumed it was Happy on the other side. He wasn’t sure though – he couldn’t see.

Tony didn’t say a word, which was unnerving. Peter half expected to get a lecture or something. Tony seemed upset. That was the best word he could think of that could describe Tony right now, head turned away from Peter and staring firmly out the window, his hands on his knees but his fingertips white where he was pressing them down as if he was trying to control himself.

It was almost…scary.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked after the minute of silence stretched on for too long and made him feel uneasy.

“That was Harry Osborn, Peter. Harry Osborn.”

“Yeah…” Peter clearly didn’t see the issue, “So?”

Tony whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at Peter. “So? So you were going to let the son of the boss of the biggest rivalling company to Stark Industries take you home?”

“Home? I—”

“You were going to let him take you to bed?”

“To… bed, I wasn’t—”

“Fuck you?”

“Oh my god Mr. Stark—”

Peter had enough. He clicked out of the seatbelt he’d put on earlier so that he could scoot closer to Tony with the intention of talking to him, perhaps a bit firmly if necessary, but when he was halfway across the backseat Tony reached for him and pulled him into his lap with surprising ease, large hands settling on Peter’s hips, heat soaking through his suit.

Whatever Peter had been about to say died in his throat the second Tony leaned forward and buried his face into Peter’s neck.

Peter’s breath hitched and his hands automatically went up to Tony’s hair and the back of his neck, head dipping to nose the top of his head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony act like that before. Definitely never toward him. It was almost…possessive.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter sighed, “Why are you so upset? Is it because he’s the son of your arch nemesis?”

At least that got a chuckle out of Tony, breath warm against Peter’s neck. “Arch nemesis is a big word, but. That’s not it.”

Peter kept quiet so as to pointedly give Tony the opportunity to elaborate.

“It could have been anyone and I would have disliked it just as much.”

Peter combed his fingers through Tony’s hair and felt a flutter in his chest at the realization that Tony was jealous. Anthony Edward Stark. Jealous, because someone flirted with Peter, who was really just his mentee and now business partner, by the way. And yeah they were close but they had never been this close and Tony had definitely never pulled Peter into his lap like that.

But now that Peter was there he didn’t think he would have wanted the night to end any differently. Sure Harry had been nice, and he was attractive, and they seemed to have gotten along. But that was nothing in comparison to what Peter felt and always had felt with and for Tony.

“How about…next time when you get upset like that maybe you could just—talk to me? About it?” Peter suggested lightly.

Tony finally lifted his head to look up at Peter, and he pulled him closer into his lap, which made Peter’s heart skitter.

“There won’t be a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

Peter was about to protest because that didn’t sound exactly convenient or particularly right. How did he suppose he was going to do that? Never let Peter talk to anyone again? But then Tony’s one hand pushed up the back of his jacket while the other smoothed down his thigh and his lips connected to Peter’s jaw, beard slightly scratchy but his lips so lovely and warm it had Peter promptly going lax in the other man’s lap.

“Next time I’ll make sure everybody knows you’re mine.”

Peter could only hope there would be a next time soon.

[lailoken]

“Sir Francis Drake:

The Elizabethan sea captain, privateer and navigator, temains of course a figure of global fame, particularly in connection with the 1588 defeat of the Spanish Armada His connection with Devon is also well known, but less well known is his legendary status as a powerful magician, witch, and leader of Devonshire covens.

In c. 1540, Sir Francis Drake was born in the west Devon town of Tavistock. In 1580 he purchased Buckland Abbey, a seven hundred near Yelverton on the south-western edge of Dartmoor. Anyone who was seen to have made great achievements and remarkable feats, in the days when witchcraft was widely believed in, was likely to have their successes put down to magic, and some form of pact with spirits. Such was certainly the case with Drake, who was said to have sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for victory and success, and there are numerous tales and traditions of his magical powers and his working relationship with the spirit world. One such tale concerns his alterations to Buckland Abbey.

During the building work, the workmen would down their tools at the end of the day, only to return in the morning to find the previous day's work undone and interference from the spirit world was suspected. Drake decided to find out for himself what was happening and that he would spy on the culprits. As night fell, he climbed a great old tree overlooking the house, and waited. When midnight came, out of the darkness emerged a horde of marauding demons, gleefully clambering about over the house and dismantling all the stonework put up during year old manor house the day.

Loudly, Drake called out 'Cock-a-doodle-do!" in the manner of a cockerel, crowing in the dawn. The mischievous spirits suddenly stopped their shenanigans in confusion, and Drake lit up his smoking pipe. As they spotted the glowing light in the tree, the spirits believed the sun was coming up and departed back into the shadows from whence they came. Presumably, they were so embarrassed at having been so easily fooled that they never returned, and the building work continued unhindered.

Traditionally housed in Buckland Abbey, is Drake's legendary drum. Beautifully painted and decorated with ornate stud-work, the drum is popularly said to have accompanied sir Francis Drake on his voyages around the world. As he lay on his deathbed on his final voyage, it is said Drake ordered that his drum be returned to England and kept at Buckland Abbey, his home. Here, the drum should be beaten in times of national threat, and it will call forth his spirit to aid the country. Indeed, there have been numerous occasions when people have claimed to have heard Drake's drum beating, including during the English Civil War and the outbreak of the Frist World War.

In 1918, a celebratory drum roll was reported to have been heard aboard the HMS Royal Oak following the surrender of the Imperial German Navy. An investigation was carried out with the ship being thoroughly searched twice by officers and again by the captain. As neither a drum nor a drummer could be found, the matter was put down to Drake's legendary drum.

During World War II, much weight was added to the drum's legendary protective influence, particularly over the city of Plymouth which, it was said, would fall if the drum was ever removed from its home at the Abbey. When fire broke out at Buckland Abbey in 1938, the drum was removed to the safety of Buckfast Abbey.

Bombs first fell on Plymouth 1940, and again in 1941 in five raids which reduced much of the city to rubble. In 1172 civilians lost their lives in the 'Plymouth Blitz’. Drake's drum was returned to Buckland Abbey, and the City remained safe for the remainder of the war.

Like many reputed witches and magicians, Sir Francis Drake was said to possess a familiar spirit to aid him in his work. The presence and influence of this spirit turns up in the stories surrounding his marriage in Like 1585 to Elizabeth Sydenham, daughter of Sir George Sydenham the Sheriff of Somerset. Some sources that Elizabeth's parents we disapproving of the union due to Drake's reputed involvement in the black artes and that the marriage took place shortly before he departed for a long voyage. After no news had been heard from Drake for a number of years, Elizabeth's parents took the opportunity to persuade her to declare herself a widow. Another account states that Drake's departure for his voyage took place before the wedding. In both versions however, The Sydenhams arranged for their only child to be married instead to a wealthy son of the Wyndham family.

It is said that Drake had left his familiar spirit to keep watch over his beloved while he was away, and that the spirit made him aware of her planned wedding to another man. On the day of the wedding, there was a loud clap of thunder, and a meteorite came crashing through the roof of the church. Some said that this had been a cannonball shot from Drake's ship to halt the wedding. In any case, it was taken as a bad omen against the wedding between Elizabeth Sydenham and the son of the Wyndham family.

The meteorite itself, known as ‘Drake's Cannonball' has been housed at Combe Sydenham ever since.

Another popular legend featuring Drake's reputed and remarkable magical abilities concerns the creation of the Plymouth Leat. As Plymouth had suffered problematic water shortages through dry summer months, it is said that Drake took his horse and rode out onto Dartmoor to search for a water source. Upon finding a small spring, he uttered a magical charm over it and it burst forth from the rocks as a flowing stream. Drake galloped o on his steed, commanding the flowing waters has he die so to follow him back to the city. Today, the Plymouth Leat has its beginning at Sheepstor on the western side of Dartmoor and ends in a reservoir just outside the city.

There are, of course, a number of traditions of magic and witchery surrounding Sir Francis Drake's defeat of the Spanish Armada. He is said to have presided as Man in Black' over a number of covens, and that during the threat of invasion, he and his covens assembled on the cliffs at Devil's Point to the south west of Plymouth. There they performed magical operations to conjure forth a terrible storm to destroy many of the Spanish ships. It is said that to this day that Devil's Point is haunted by Drake and his witches, still convening there in spirit form.

Another, more famous legend, tells of Sir Francis Drake playing a game of bowls on Plymouth Hoe when news was brought to him of the approach of the Spanish fleet. In one version he is said to have casually continued his game to its conclusion which, it has been suggested was a magical spell; with the bowls he was scattering with his drives representing the invading fleet. In another version, he stops his game to order a hatchet and a great log to be brought to the Hoe. He then proceeded to chop the wood into small wedges whilst uttering a magical charm over them as each one was thrown into the sea, and as each one hit the water they transformed into great fire ships; sailing out to burn the Armada.

The folklore surrounding Sir Francis Drake also includes his deep association with the Wild Hunt. Sometimes he is seen as leading the ghostly pack of Wisht Hounds', and at others he is the riding companion of the Hunt's more traditional leader; the Devil. In some Stories Drake rides in a spectral black coach, drawn by black, headless horses and followed by a great pack of black, otherworldly hounds with eyes burning red in the night. Sometimes his coach horses are seen with their heads, and have eyes blazing like hot coals.

One such story tells of a young maid, running desperately across the moors to escape an evil man on horseback she is being forced by her adoptive family to marry. Upon reaching a remote crossroads, and collapsing there in exhaustion, the ghostly pack of hounds and horse drawn coach approach from the darkness. Stopping at the crossroads, a man steps out of the coach, and the young woman recognises him to be the ghost of Sir Francis Drake.

He enquired of the young woman, why she was out on the moor alone and in a state of desperation and exhaustion, and she told him of her plight. Drake pulled from beneath his cloak a box and a cloth, and gave these to the young woman telling her to continue gently on her way, and not, under any circumstance, to look back.

The maid did as she was instructed, and when her pursuer reached the crossroads, he asked of the dark figure in the coach if he had seen a young maid passing by. Drake asked the man to step into his coach, and as he did, its door shut fast and the coach and hounds disappeared back into the darkness. The man was never to be seen again, and it is said that when morning came, his horse was found at the remote crossroads and had apparently died of fright.

According to research by the Devonshire cunning man Jack Daw, there is said to be a family line of Pellars, descended from the girl who encountered the spirit of Sir Francis Drake on the Moor. Their powers, it is claimed, are derived from the gift of the box and cloth he had given to her on that night.”

—

Silent as the Trees:

Devonshire Witchcract, Folklore & Magic

by Gemma Gary

[seancekitsch]

Drew: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Smut

Warning: canon talks of drugs/addiction, alcohol consumption, 80s movies, unprotected sex, two flawed people smangin

Little continuation of Prize Buck

————————

“But no— no! You never told me what you were like.” He almost laughs, or maybe he does. But it sounds more like a cough or a sob. That’s what drinking everclear will do to you. The liquor so strong it could tear the nail polish off both of your nails right now if you spilled it; the very bottle you were passing back and forth tonight. It was high time you bought one of these bottles of the strong shit. Klaus had been screaming in his sleep lately. You knew he had a good grasp on his abilities, even enough to conjure Ben long enough for you to see him half a minute. But sometimes in his sleep is when they got to him. Both of you had come to the conclusion if he got good and plastered he could probably sleep through the night without you waking up or having to soothe him and remind him to ground himself. Wine made him too handsy and he never actually got to sleep when he got his hands on you, beer made him feel full and sleepy before he was drunk enough to block them out. Liquor depended on the night, and if one of his siblings tried to stop by. Sometimes when they came by he could be tipsy and sleep without screaming; other times they seemed to exacerbate it without meaning to. So everclear was tonight’s test. It was like taking a razor to your esophagus, but he needed to find some way to control his abilities while he slept in his own way, in his own time.

You hadn’t really spoken about what life was like for you before meeting Klaus in the clinic. Sure, he knew the gist— disgraced anthropologist has a mental breakdown on amphetamines and ruins literal years of research for herself and six of her colleagues— but he didn’t know what your life was like. What you were like. For the past hour, you’ve been reminiscing on the circumstances in which your friendship formed. All the group therapy sessions you hadn’t taken seriously. The week where you were too sick and lethargic he spoon fed you soup and spilled most of it down your shirt. The good times.

“I guess I was cool. I- I don’t know. I really liked. Still like music. Got to touch a lot of old things. I only ended up in one magazine cover story.” Your fingers wrap around the bottle, grimacing at the smell before finishing, “Unlike you, Mr. Celebrity.”

You can hear the scoff come from beside you as glass comes to lips, warm liquor to tongue.

“Hey! Unfair. I was no Drew Barrymore. Plus, she never had to wear that mask in public.” He waits to continue until after you’ve swallowed and put it back down to continue talking, and runs his hand up your calf. You still had yet to buy any kitchen furniture, and Klaus kept swearing he would take some from the academy, so instead of the couch or mattress you sat on the counter, bare legs dangling against the lower cabinets while he leaned up next to you. The building had no air conditioning, and on a hot evening like this, the two of you had to clamber into the small kitchen to take in any of the breeze that the old and rusting window unit could provide. Hence, your bare legs. Shorts season struck early this year because even his family using time travel could not stop global warming.

“I bet you were one of the best. You’re smart, you’re always so modest” He says with an off handed flick of his wrist that ended with his fingertips catching on the neck of the bottle where yours also rested, “You know, you would have made a great Drew Barrymore.”

The shift in his tone tells you exactly what he’s thinking without even having to look in his eyes. Instead, your eyes had shifted to the neck of the bottle on the counter between you. It was amazing how even though you’d been carnal with your roommate, that he still sent shockwaves up your spine like you’d stuck a fork in a socket. It was hard not to focus and watch his hands as they traced patterns only he could see in the expanses of skin pulled taught around bone and muscle.

“You’re just saying that,” you chuckle.

“No, really,” his fingers travel up your own, reaching each knuckle and paying special attention to wiggle each ring on the way up, “ or at least we could have made a great Two Coreys. ‘Do all kinds of stuff, like fight vampire bikers to INXS, learn to drive a car, switch bodies with an elderly professor to impress the popular girl at school, go on a tropical vacation... doesn’t that all sound fun for us?”

“You forgot the one where they play brothers that swap partners at the organized crime ski lodge and there’s an alarming amount of horseback riding accidents,” you provide, challenging him and his pop culture knowledge. His eyes are sharp on you, gaze making you feel naked in his presence.

“Mmmmm, no. Just testing you,” Klaus hums, and the conversation dies in a way that’s comfortable. More the Notebook than Shakespeare, you note. But your roommate’s body doesn’t mimic the nonchalance of the words flowing away from you. He squeezes your knuckles before slipping the bottle from your loose grasp, taking it to the head as he shifts to turn himself more so that now his torso is pressed between your legs to face you. He is sweaty and shirtless, and you know your knees will peel off of him when you try to spread your legs further. Which, by the way he’s looking at you, they will be spreading further.

Everything about Klaus’ movements has this theatrical weight to it. Klaus is a big person, not in mass or size like his brother, but in the energy his movements cast. It’s like watching a production. His heart is no muscle, but the core of a planet drawing others into his orbit, compiling the cast of characters. His touch is magnetic and burning all at once, directing the action. As submissive as he can be, you’d be a marionette in his grasp if he asked of you. That being said, there’s beautiful choreography in the way he tilts the bottle back and gulps once, twice despite the burn. Commanding stage presence in the heavy fall of his arm followed by percussion when the glass bottle clangs on the counter just behind the curve of your ass. An unspoken monologue in his eyes as he leans down into you, snagging plump lips on your own.

He tastes fucking disgusting is your first thought, but that fades to more, more, more. You grab onto his shoulders, the sheen of sweat familiar and matching your own, and pull him in as close as you can. There’s a point when you get so close to a person you can pretend you’re one, but for now you’ll settle with scooting to the edge of the counter to press yourself up flush against him despite the heat. There’s a brief moment where he stops, but it’s only to help you out of your shirt. The damp thin material peels off of you and reveals your chest, then your skin reunites with his. His warm dog tags press into your chest, now their own form of a kiss, as your mouths meet again hungrier this time. His hands find purchase at your ass, glide all the way to the top of your denim shorts. It’s quick and easy the way his fingers slide to the front and up to cup your chest. The way he squeezes is rough, but not hard. He grasps at your skin like it was meant for him, and maybe it was. That wasn’t too far fetched to think with the way you responded to him. You moan in earnest into his mouth with each of his squeezes and the ministrations of his fingers.

Your hands travel from his biceps to his hair to his shoulder blades and repeat, tracing a route that makes his skin tingle despite the staleness of the room. He mumbles something against your teeth, something that sounds like ‘need you’ but you don’t need to understand what he said to know you and he both want your hands to travel south. Your fingertips kiss his chest, his nipples, his ribs, and then fall to the hem of his pants (your pants, some flimsy tie dyed things you bought at one of those woowoo stores that sold a lot of incense and wind chimes) before you pull your hands from him all together. His strangled whine all but dies in response when your hands fumble with his and move them down to the button on your shorts, effectively telling him to do away with them. You break the kiss again to lean your head back on the cupboard behind you, and lift your hips as best you can without sliding off the counter. He’s slow to remove them, both because of how they stick to you and because he’s vexing. Once they hit your calfs, you wiggle them off yourself before settling your bare ass back on the edge of the counter and sitting up straight again.

“Commando? You slut!” He exclaims with a devilish smile, and you have half a mind to hit him. But instead, you settle for returning the favor, much easier for you to give a strong yank and his (your) pants are also around his ankles.

“Commando? You slut too!” You echo, and you both laugh and you crane your neck smash your lips back onto his.

You’re both dizzy and laughing, and it makes it all that much easier for him to ease into you. Sliding slowly, Klaus is met with little resistance. You yourself are aroused and soaking, the norm for your body when Klaus is close to you like this. Your body easily reacts to him, and you like to think his body is equally as receptive to you. He stays like that for a beat, making sure you’re comfortable with the angle and everything, before ramming back into you as one of his hands hits the cupboard behind your head to stabilize himself. Your legs wrap around his waist and meet cross ankled at the small of his back, angling to help push him all that much deeper into you.

This is different, you think, than all the other times. Sure, Klaus is setting the pace for once instead of you, but that’s not it. Maybe it’s because of your talking even minimally about your past. Letting him peek over the wall you held near and dear. You viewed yourself before the clinic as someone who no longer exists. A dead relative that sits on your shoulders. Or maybe it just was the rocking motion and your ass catching the corner over and over sure to welt and melting pain into the pleasure. It’s like you’re lost at sea, and Klaus is both the life raft and the storm. He’s all hands and hips and whimpers against your neck.

He fucks the thoughts out of your head, and thus the words out of your mouth. You’re not used to him being in charge like this. This is easily the quietest you’ve ever been with him, but it’s not for lack of enjoyment. No, this is heavenly. Every whimper, every moan... because of what you— what your body does to him. Absolutely musical. A cacaphony only heightened by the tempo of your heaving chest, the tightness of your core already threatening to burst.

Your legs tighten around his back, pulling him so close that his thrusts hit deep, deep as they can go and he never fully pulls out of you. It’s more of a deep grind into your cunt, and each roll of his hips earns a high pitched whine from you and a low grunt from him. This feels good.

He slows down considerably, taking the time to savor feeling you squeeze him as he slowly works you both to and over the edge. He’s in no rush when it feels like this.

You, though, you’re teetering. On both the physical counter and the precipice of ecstasy. Any thrust now and you’ll be shaking and sobbing and drenching him, but you foolishly try to hang on because it’s unclear if Klaus is as close as you are or if he has any tricks up his sleeve.

A shuddering breathy moan against your jawline alerts you; no, he is as close as you are. You bear down, changing the angle just so, but in a way that hits the perfect spot, and you scream. You scream so unexpectedly you surprise yourself as you feel your body overcome and surrender to a shaking, intense orgasm.

The way you tighten and shiver against him triggers his own, and he stills inside you as deep as he can go, and shakes as well. A moan escapes past his lips in a strangled cry, and then he goes quiet. savoring this feeling.

Instead of pulling out, he stands there holding you. He reaches one of his hands down though, the same one that was against the cupboard near your head, to grasp your calf. He half assedly begins to knead his thumb and middle finger on each side of the muscle, easing any tension or stiffness that might have occurred while you were holding him so tightly against you. This is so tender. This is closeness. You lean forward towards him with your hands draped onto his shoulders, letting him catch you as post sex exhaustion begins to creep it’s way behind your eyes. But for Klaus it seems to come so naturally. It’s almost an absent afterthought of an action while he kisses your cheek, your jawline, your earlobe.

“You, dear Fraulien, have earned yourself a bed frame,” Klaus announces in a whisper against the shell of your ear. If you weren’t on the brink of slumber, you could have sworn he had a twinge of a German accent.

“What?”

“I’m going to buy you a bed frame,” he punctuates it with a kiss this time. You have to laugh. Shutting your eyes feels so good while laying in his arms.

“You’re going to buy it?”

“Well, there’s probably a good one somewhere at the Academy. One with a nice headboard. Only the best for my partner to handcuff me to.”

Partner.

You’re wide awake again.

Klaus sleeps peacefully tonight.

[iatethepomegranate]

Just a fic about Caleb buying a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, and coping with that kind of change and newfound stability (and becoming Professor Widogast). Angst and fluff are at war in this fic.

Content warnings: Panic attacks, Caleb's backstory

Chapter Summary: Yasha, Essek and Caduceus hit the garden. Caleb's meeting with Professor Alphira takes an unexpected turn, leaving him floundering. But the Nein come for him when he needs them, and they help him find his feet. Then they go shopping.

Notes: Chapter title is from "Venus" by Sleeping At Last.

****

Chapter 3: I was a billion little pieces til you pulled me into focus

Yasha got her garden started the next morning, with Essek and Caduceus helping her. Caleb watched them for some time, enjoying the quiet start to the day, before he headed deeper into the centre of the city to meet Alphira.

Caleb had known this coffee shop when it was a smutty bookshop he used to frequent with Astrid and Wulf during their explorations of the city. Alphira was seated by the front window, and waved to him through the glass. Caleb checked his surroundings, not bothering to be subtle about it, and stepped inside. A lute player sat in the corner, playing soft music.

“I have a confession, Mr Widogast,” Alphira said as Caleb pulled out a chair to sit.

He froze, leaning on the back of it. “...ja?”

“Do you remember Professor Bettina Weber?”

“Professor of Transmutation. I remember her.” Caleb had gotten along with her perfectly fine when he was a student, but he had been set on Evocation at the time. And then Trent had gotten his hands on him and ruined any chance of having a good relationship with any teacher at the Academy. “Why do you ask?”

“I mentioned your old name to her,” said Alphira. “She asked to come along. Is that all right?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, watching Alphira hide her fidgeting hands beneath the table. “You are not a good liar, Professor.”

Alphira sighed. “I apologise. I should have been upfront. We intended to speak with you together, but we were not sure how you would…” She waved her hands around, evidently unable to conjure the remainder of the sentence. “Archmage Beck knows we are meeting, if that helps.”

“This is not the best start to our friendship, Professor.” Caleb forcibly relaxed his shoulders and slid very carefully onto his chair. “Do what you will.”

Alphira pulled a coil of copper wire from the component pouch on her belt and whispered into it. “Bettina, you can come in. He’s not happy, but he hasn’t walked out.”

A few moments passed, and then an older human woman, greyer than Caleb remembered, stepped through the doorway, setting off the bell. She sat in the third seat at the table.

“Guten morgen, Professor,” Caleb said, not bothering to hide the steel in his tone. He did not need to cower before anyone in this city anymore, save perhaps for King Dwendal. He was done tolerating the convoluted bullshit of the Assembly. Today, at least.

“Guten morgen, Bren.” Bettina at least had the grace to look sheepish. “I apologise we were not upfront with you. Ah, I did not check which name you prefer. Bren or Caleb?”

“I don’t mind.” Caleb did mind. More than he usually did. He couldn’t tell whether Bettina’s slip had been intentional or not, and that irritated him.

“Caleb, then.”

Caleb felt a strange wash of relief, not unlike how he had felt when Yudala Fon had come to the same conclusion.

Alphira flagged down a server and each of them ordered a cup of black coffee. “My treat,” she said.

“Danke,” Caleb replied. They sat quietly at a moment, looking at each other, and Caleb’s irritation swelled. “Forgive my impatience, Professors. Why did you ask me here?”

“Soltryce Academy needs a new Professor of Transmutation,” said Alphira. “Bettina intends to retire in a few years.”

“I am not a qualified teacher,” Caleb said. “I have no experience.” Well that was not entirely true; he did have experience teaching individuals. And he had helped Veth with the first iteration of her adventurers’ summer camp. “Well, no experience that a teaching institution would consider of benefit.”

“Archmage Beck put your name forward,” said Bettina. “The other Archmages were quick to agree with her. The Martinet himself wants you on the staff.”

“The Martinet wants a lot of things,” Caleb said flatly. This was too good to be true. It had to be. He could not afford to get his hopes up about this, even as one of his oldest dreams was presented to him on a silver platter.

The coffees arrived. Caleb wrapped his hands around his mug, letting the warmth chase the morning chill from his fingers. Bettina slowly stirred sugar into her coffee, chuckling softly.

“I know he offered you Astrid’s job,” she said. “Not many people say no to him. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.” She looked up from her coffee, smiling at him fondly in a way that sent Caleb into a state of utter confusion and mild panic. “Of the three of you, I would not have expected you to be the one to confound him like that. Well done.”

“I’m not here to fuck around,” Caleb responded, not wholly by design.

“Good. We need more people like you in the Academy.” She was working hard to disarm him, and Caleb was doing all he could to hold on tight to his distrust.

“We don’t want something like Trent Ikithon happening again,” Alphira said. “Archmage Beck is of the mind that you are well-placed to prevent that. Bettina and I are inclined to agree.”

That was a major reason why Caleb had chosen to remain in Rexxentrum, but it did rankle him that it was expected of him, after everything he had already been through. He did not like the bitterness that rose in him. Alphira and Bettina were offering him the power to keep children like him safe like he desperately wanted. And it was unfair to assume they would throw him to the sharks and leave him there.

Caleb took a deep breath and asked, “And where do you two fit in?”

“I have decades of teaching experience,” said Bettina. “My knowledge is at your disposal. I seem to recall you once told me you wanted to teach… when you were fifteen, I think. You were still new to the Academy at the time.” Before Trent got involved went unspoken.

“Did you know what Trent was doing?” Caleb asked. He had to know. He needed more information before Bettina’s persistent kindness wore down his defences and either made him meek or cruel. And if he sensed even the slightest inkling that she had known anything and didn’t lift a finger to help, he would walk out in a heartbeat. There were enough people associated with the Assembly who clearly had some idea and did nothing. He did not need to drink coffee with one of them.

“No,” Bettina replied. “I understand why you needed to ask, and I admit Ikithon always made me uncomfortable, but I genuinely had no idea he was abusing his students.” Her gaze bore into Caleb’s, mouth downturned and eyes sad. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have helped you.”

Caleb had to break eye contact, before he broke instead. He sipped his coffee, with shaky hands, and composed himself.

“We were at his trial,” said Alphira matter-of-factly. Caleb could not express how grateful he was that she kept emotion out of this. “Most of the professors attended. We were shocked, but not exactly surprised. He was always a creepy bastard.”

“We believe Alphira came close to being recruited,” said Bettina, quiet but far less intense than she had been a moment ago. “She’s a talented Evocation wizard. Trent had a few meetings with her parents, but she has a large, close-knit family spread across the Empire.”

“He realised you had too many connections,” Caleb said, and found his voice was steady. “He couldn’t isolate you. Too much time and effort, and he had many other… projects..”

“I believe you are correct,” said Alphira. “I came to the academy just after you had, uh, left. There were rumours about what happened to you, but nobody really knew for sure.”

“I take it the trial cleared that up for you.”

“Ja.” Alphira sighed. “Look. I am sorry I did not handle this meeting better. This is my fault. I wasn’t sure you would come if you knew one of your old teachers would be here. It was wrong of me to take that choice from you.”

Caleb hadn’t survived this long without learning how to get a read on people, and he felt confident he was reading her correctly. She seemed genuinely remorseful. “I will consider the offer.”

“Good,” said Bettina. “Of all my possible replacements, I am most confident you will do the right thing by the students.”

She was laying it on pretty thick, but it emboldened Caleb to speak a few things he had been toying with, in the event he did have an opportunity like this.

“If I were to accept the position, I have a few demands,” said Caleb. “I want the Academy to set up a proper system to report abuse. We also need the staff to be trained how not to abuse their fucking students, as that seems rather difficult for some of them. We need mental health support, and a better system for older or returning students to get an education. Most of all, every student who walks through those doors must be taught the ethics of magic and research, and understand their responsibilities to use their magical and social power responsibly. Most of the staff also need that lesson.”

“We want those things, too,” said Alphira. “We’ll pass them on to Archmage Beck and see what we can do. Unfortunately, we may have to push for some of those for an extended period of time.”

“We will work the ethics lessons into our transmutation classes,” said Bettina. “At this stage, I would suggest ethics remain integrated into pre-existing magic classes so students cannot avoid it. At least until we have established a culture of understanding around these things.”

“Can I count on your help?” Caleb asked. “Both of you?”

“We will help you,” said Alphira. “I would not drag you into this without offering assistance.”

“Danke,” Caleb replied, softer than he had intended. The fact she had thought it a foregone conclusion that he would have their help in this…

Trust was not easy for Caleb. And the trust he had extended had been broken many, many times. This was a lot.

Caleb finished his coffee and bid Bettina and Alphira farewell. And then he ducked behind the coffee shop, leaned against the wall, braced his hands on his knees, and tried very hard not to hyperventilate.

It was not going well. His hands shook as he fumbled for his copper wire, muscle memory kicking in to settle his fingers as he cast Sending. He decided the recipient at the last second. It had to be someone with some knowledge of the city, but most of his friends didn’t know the city that well. But there was one person who walked past here on her way to work.

“Beauregard. It’s Caleb.” He was out of breath, on the verge of hysterics one way or another. “Behind coffee shop. Come get me? Can’t breathe. Brain bullshit. I need you. Please.”

Beauregard’s voice filtered into his mind immediately. “Caleb? Ah, fuck. We’re coming. Hang in there. Don’t move. I’m bringing… lots of us. I don’t know. You’re okay.” She was panting now. “We’re running. Be there soon.”

Twenty-five words exactly. Nice. It distracted Caleb for about half a second, before he couldn’t breathe again.

Maybe if Caleb knew exactly what had sent him into a spiral, he could have handled it on his own. But he genuinely wasn’t sure, and his brain wasn’t working in any helpful way. It could have been any number of things, or maybe all of them at once. All he could do was bend over and try very hard to breathe. It was going poorly.

So on top of everything, he was frustrated, which did not help in the slightest.

Time was liquid. He was aware of its passing, and he could still count the seconds, minutes. He always counted things. It was one of the few things he could do when his brain felt like a handful of broken glass. And even if he lost count of everything else, he could still count time.

He knew it had been five minutes. He wasn’t sure if it felt longer or shorter than that, despite his knowledge of objective reality. His breaths were a little steadier, but not by much. He was still on his feet, but barely.

He felt dizzy.

“Hey, dude.” Beauregard’s face slid between the ground and Caleb’s gaze. “We’re here.”

Caleb’s arm felt like the bones had fallen out, but somehow he managed to grab her shoulder and squeeze. Beauregard put her hand over his, squeezing back. She gently pushed him upright until he rested his head against the brick behind him. He lifted his face to the sky, breathing deeply. It was already easier, knowing she was here.

“Caleb,” came Veth’s voice, hesitant. A small hand laced their fingers together. “What is it? What happened?”

Caleb’s voice game out even huskier than usual. “Not sure.”

“It just happened?”

Caleb nodded.

Veth squeezed his hand. “Can you walk? We’ll get you home.”

“Caduceus is making tea,” came Jester’s voice. “And we’ll give you lots of hugs if you want them.”

“Let’s hold off on that, all right?” said Fjord. “Let him breathe for a bit.”

Caleb dragged his eyes from the sky to take in who exactly had come. Beauregard, Veth, Jester, Fjord, Yasha. Everyone except Caduceus, who had remained behind to make tea, and Essek, who had to make a calculated risk every time he left the house. Caleb was glad he hadn’t come. He would have felt much worse if Essek had put himself in danger over this.

Yasha stepped forward, offering her arm. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Caleb pushed off the wall, his legs far too wobbly, and leaned on Yasha. They walked home. Fjord took Caleb’s other side, with Jester bouncing ahead as an obvious distraction. Veth and Beauregard stayed closer, just in front of him. Caleb remembered the Nein surrounding him in Castle Ungebroch, trying to shield him from Trent. Remembering that did not help him calm down in the slightest.

He pressed his face against Yasha’s shoulder, trusting her to guide him, until he could compose himself. He loved them. A whole lot. And they showed him every day how much they loved him.

Fjord took his other hand. “You’re all right, Caleb. We got you.”

****

As soon as they were home, Jester made Caleb a blanket nest on the floor and shoved him in it. Then came Caduceus with chamomile tea. Essek emerged from the kitchen behind him, feet firmly on the floor, and sat on the couch behind Caleb, quietly brushing and braiding his hair.

The rest of the Nein sat on the floor around him. Veth wiggled into the blanket nest with him.

“That was one intense cup of coffee,” said Fjord. “How are you feeling?”

Caleb took a tentative sip of the tea; it wasn’t too hot. He took another sip. “Better.”

“What happened in there?’ asked Beau. “Do I have to murder Alphira?”

“Nein.” Caleb worked through half the tea quicker than Caduceus had probably intended for him. “She surprised me. I did not take it well.”

“Surprised you how?” asked Jester. “Was it a good surprise?”

Caleb shrugged. “Probably. She… misjudged. Invited my old Transmutation professor without telling me, until I was already there. Put me on the back foot. I should have handled it better. Thought I did, until after the meeting. Forgot how to breathe. My old professor was… she didn’t know what Trent was doing, and she seemed upset that she couldn’t help us. That was… a lot. I don’t know if that’s the reason I lost it… but I’m sure it didn’t help.” He closed his eyes and Essek gently tugged on the hair at his temples; he liked the feeling. “Beauregard, did you know Soltryce Academy wanted to hire me?”

“WHAT!?” shrieked Jester; Caleb flinched involuntarily. “Sorry, Caleb.”

“Astrid told me she Archmages were really fucking keen on you, yeah,” said Beauregard. “Did they send Alphira to do it?”

“And my old Transmutation professor, ja.”

“Do you like your old professor?”

“She never did anything horrible to me.”

“That’s really not an answer.”

Caleb shrugged. “I didn’t have time to establish a relationship. I wanted to be an Evocation wizard, and then Trent ruined my life.”

“We can still go kill him if you want,” Yasha said, with complete sincerity.

Beauregard swore under her breath. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I should’ve told you.”

“This is not your fault.”

“No, but maybe you would’ve… I don’t know. I feel bad.”

Caleb sighed. Opened his eyes. Stared hard at her until she looked at him. “Beauregard. Shit like this happens sometimes, even when everything is fine. We all know who is responsible. Please be angry at the right people. I trust you. You know how much that means.”

Essek’s fingernails grazed the back of his neck as he pulled Caleb’s hair into a ponytail, and Caleb had to stifle a moan. Even if it wasn’t a sexual moan (this time), the Nein would have too much fun with it. Or maybe he should have let it happen, just to make Beauregard laugh at him. Too late now.

“Oh, Caleb!” said Jester. “Is that your orgasm face?”

“No,” Essek said, with far more certainty than he had likely intended. If he had intended to speak at all.

Beauregard clapped both hands on her mouth to stifle a bark of laughter.

Jester grinned, and Caleb knew she was doing this very much on purpose to lighten the mood. “Oh, I bet you know what his orgasm face looks like, Essek!”

Caleb could almost hear Essek’s eye-roll. Essek calmly tucked Caleb’s two side braids into the ponytail, running his fingers through the ponytail itself to loosen any remaining tangles.

“I appreciate your keen interest in this area, Jester,” Essek said primly. “I am afraid I am not the type to--oh, what is the phrase in common?--kiss and tell.” He paused, but there was something the way he held his breath that indicated he was not nearly finished. “If you wish to find out for yourself, I would recommend you ask him nicely. If Fjord does not mind, of course. Or perhaps you could invite him along. I believe Caleb has experience in that area.”

Caleb knew his face was redder than his hair, because every part of his flashed burning hot. He had never actually told Essek he had a crush on Jester, or that he thought Fjord was hot, and Caleb was pretty fucking certain Essek would not have gone there if he had known. Caleb may have offhandedly mentioned his experience with threesomes, though.

Luckily, the Nein were distracted by Essek making possibly the crassest joke he had made in his life, instead of Caleb blushing so hard his skin was about to start sizzling.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Beauregard breathed.

“Who are you and what have you done with our Essek?” said Veth, waving a crossbow bolt in the air. “Tell us quick: what is your favourite food?”

“Well, I can assure you it is not soup.”

“I knew it! Essek’s an imposter!”

“Caleb, what did you do to him?” said Beauregard. “I know you’ve got some serious game, but what the shit.”

Jester, in the meantime, had collapsed on the floor, cackling uncontrollably at the whole thing. Fjord’s face was in his hands, and the tips of his ears were red. Yasha was snickering quietly. Caduceus calmly poured Caleb more tea.

“What can I say?” Caleb said, pretending he wasn’t burning up from embarrassment. “I’m a wizard magnet.”

Beauregard groaned loudly. “We know, Caleb. We know you’ve fucked more than anyone in this group except me. I hate this. I hate that I know this about you.”

“That is very sad, Beauregard. I was a teenager the last time I was in a serious relationship.”

“Yeah, awkward pubescent Caleb had more game than most of this fully-grown group put together. You’re not helping.”

Jester recovered enough from her laughter to sit up, still snickering. “I bet you were really handsome, Caleb.”

“Of course he was!” Veth screeched. “He’s always handsome.”

“I was a good talker,” said Caleb. “That helped.” He had never shared how he, Astrid and Wulf had come together romantically, and it would definitely kill the mood to tell them it was because they were locked in a freezing cold tower and had to huddle together for warmth. He kept that to himself.

“You’re still a good talker when you want to be,” said Beauregard. “It’s annoying.”

“It’s very impressive,” Yasha added.

“You’re very charming, Cay,” said Veth. “Fjord could learn a thing or two.”

“Fjord does just fine on his own,” Caleb said, because she was starting to exaggerate again. Her faith in him was eternally lovely, but he didn’t like it when it ran the risk of putting others in the Nein down.

Essek kept running his fingers through Caleb’s ponytail and adjusting the braids. There was no practical purpose to it. They both just liked it.

The room settled after the chaos of Essek displaying once again his unique sense of humour: fucking with the Nein. Beauregard crashed the hardest, already looking miserable again.

Caleb threw a cushion at her. “Stop it. I called you for a reason. I am not upset with you.”

Beauregard pressed her hands over the entirety of her face and screamed into them. Caleb threw another cushion. And then he telekinetically pulled them back and threw them at her repeatedly with magic. Childish? Yes. Effective? Also yes.

It was satisfying to watch Beauregard get annoyed and use her monk shit to snatch flying cushions from the air.

“Okay, fine! I don’t feel bad for you anymore!” And she launched herself at him, smacking him repeatedly with the cushions until he curled into a ball and begged for mercy.

****

Caleb was a little tired from his episode earlier, but not so tired that he would dare miss out on furniture shopping when Jester and Caduceus were so excited about it. He trusted them to balance each other out and come up with a good aesthetic after the outfits they had procured for the party in Nicodranas… where they ended up kidnapping a disguised Essek and forcing him to confess his sins. And Beauregard was high on True Sight. What a fucking night that had been.

Beauregard and Fjord headed out to the Cobalt Soul Archive to retrieve Kingsley from Nicodanas; he’d never been to the Rexxentrum markets before. It gave Caleb a few extra minutes to recover, though in truth he was as okay as he was going to be.

Now that he could think clearly again, he was able to dissect what had happened. The shock of seeing Professor Weber after so long, and with little warning, had rattled him from the beginning. And, of course, any talk of Trent ran the risk of triggering him, but then Bettina had expressed more remorse for not helping him than anyone else in the Assembly ever had the grace to do. Ludinus was notoriously full of shit, and Caleb had come to expect that from anyone even tangentially involved with the Assembly (except perhaps Pumat).

Caleb was not used to anyone in that place treating him with simple, unfiltered human compassion. Even Astrid and Wulf were a little detached from the pain they had suffered together, and what they had been through separately. He knew that detachment was a matter of survival for them, and he did not resent them for it.

Bettina’s raw grief for his suffering had affected him far more deeply than he could ever have anticipated.

Essek sat on the couch with Caleb’s head in his lap, playing with the baby hairs that had already escaped his ponytail, while the Nein prepared to head out. “You look tired,” he said softly.

“This morning was a lot. I’ll be all right.”

“Fine, but I am coming with you.”

“Essek.” Caleb had taken this tone with him many times in Aeor. It meant Essek, what the fuck? It had taken a lot for Caleb to say his name like that, given his own notorious lack of impulse control around magic items. Caleb had never gotten his hands on that fucking emerald. He was still bitter about it. But he was finding a new use for the tone, because Essek was normally a cautious person, except when he felt the people he loved needed him. Caleb especially.

“I am safer in a group than I would be here alone.” Essek smiled ruefully. “Besides, I have chosen a disguise already. You should not let my brilliance go to waste.”

“You make a solid argument.”

“I know.” Essek smirked. “You are, however, welcome to tell me how brilliant I am.”

Veth was on the floor nearby, slowly copying a few of Caleb’s first level spells into her own spellbook. “Is this how wizards flirt?”

“The part we do in front of other people, ja,” said Caleb.

Jester, lying on her stomach on the other side of the room, with her sketchbook, piped up. “What about the secret flirting that you don’t let us see?”

“We mostly discuss complex existential matters,” Essek replied.

“And dissect each other’s breakdowns,” Caleb muttered, not entirely meaning to voice it but not trying particularly hard to restrain himself. Well, it was out in the world now. May as well keep digging. “We have a lot of material.”

Yasha popped her head out of the kitchen. “That sounds very intense.”

“Yeah,” said Veth, “I just tell Yeza he has a nice ass and we get down to business.”

“Each to their own,” Essek said mildly, casting prestidigitation on Caleb’s hair to smooth it down after his fussing.

The door flew open, and Caleb sat bolt upright before Kingsley strutted inside in a way that was a little too close to Mollymauk for Caleb to handle in his current state. But he was used to it by now. It didn’t overtake him like it may have months ago.

“I can’t believe you almost went shopping without me,” Kingsley said, his tail swishing to slap Beauregard in the face. She batted it away from her.

“Ugh, we should’ve left you in the smutty book shop where we found you.”

“Find anything good?” asked Jester, taking the words right out of Caleb’s mouth.

Kingsley shrugged. “How the fuck would I know?”

“I would bring you to the one in Rexxentrum and show you,” said Caleb, “but they sadly turned it into a coffee shop.”

“Come on, Caleb,” said Jester. “This city is huge. There has to be another one. Ooh, you could ask Astrid next time you see her!”

Kingsley snickered at that.

“What’s so funny?”

“Astrid. Really.”

“Hey, Caleb’s really into smut,” said Jester. “He had to learn it from somewhere.”

“I am leaving this conversation,” said Caleb, heading for the door. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe if you find me some good smut, Magic Man.” Kingsley’s tail whipped around Caleb’s wrist, just for a second. Every inhabitant of that body had flirted with Caleb at some point. It was familiar, in a way Caleb found more comforting than most of Kingsley’s Molly-like mannerisms.

“Okay, who the fuck taught Kingsley about sex,” Beauregard grumbled as the rest of the Nein filed out of the house.

“He asked,” Fjord replied, his voice shooting up an octave as it did when he panicked.

Veth snorted. “Listen, King. When two people love each other very much…”

“Sometimes more than two,” Caleb added.

“Or sometimes when you love yourself very much,” said Veth.

Kingsley didn’t pay much heed to Veth’s final addition, dancing up to Caleb’s side and giving him an eyebrow. “Oh, that sounds like a story. Any advice?”

“Don’t trauma-bond and end up in a codependent relationship,” Caleb replied. “The sex is not worth it.”

“I mean, Astrid and Wulf are pret-ty hot,” said Jester.

“Ja, like putting your hand in an open flame.”

Beauregard slid up to Caleb’s other side. “Sometimes you worry me, man.”

“I am officially asking Caleb for relationship advice in the future,” said Kingsley. “I don’t know much, but I know I’d rather ask a man who knows what not to do.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say to that, so he circled back to the original topic. “I will ask Wulf about the smut shop next time I see him.” Wulf was just as awkward as Caleb most of the time. He only seemed smooth because he was built like a brick shithouse and had a deep voice. It would be less complicated than trying to ask Astrid. He wasn’t even sure Wulf read smut anymore. Or if Caleb wanted to know something like that about an ex he absolutely should not touch again.

Maybe they could just go to Zadash instead. Avoid the conversation entirely. Next time, maybe.

He kept walking towards the market.

[daleisgreat]

The Avengers: Endgame

Over the last couple months I finally upgraded to somewhat modern TV and gaming rigs in the form of a 55” Samsung 4KTV and Xbox Series X. I own three 4K UHD discs, but one I already covered a couple years back with my entry of the BluRay version that came bundled with the 4K disc of Die Hard. The other is a two pack of the first two John Wick films, and rest assured those will get their day in the sun here eventually. From my research, the Xbox Series X is not a top shelf 4K BluRay player, at least not at the system’s launch before presumable system software updates, but also sounds like a fairly better quality version of the drive that came in the Xbox One X|S, and also supports upscaling of regular BluRays to 4K. Coincidentally, on top of my movie backlog pile was a movie I absolutely wanted to take advantage of that 4K upscaling and thus here we are with today’s write-up for 2019’s The Avengers: Endgame (trailer). WARNING: Unlike nearly most of my other movie recaps I will be diving into serious spoiler territory ahead. The amount of hype leading up to Endgame was insurmountable. Anthony and Joseph Russo did an astounding job directing the first part in 2018’s Infinity War (read my entry for it here). Both that and Endgame top the three hour mark to squeeze in as many characters, references, periphery side plots and so much more from the previous 21 Marvel Cinematic Universe films that lead up to this finale. By accomplishing just that, both movies are the breeziest three hour viewings I have experienced because the Russo brothers do a commendable job at keeping the scenes flowing and doing their best to give everyone their proper time to shine. The ending of Infinity War saw Thanos (Josh Brolin) deliver the snap heard around the world that vanished half of all life in the entire universe. It was a soul-crushing downer of a cliffhanger to end on, but the post-credits tag hinting at the cry of help for Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) left crowds with a glimmer of hope. This being based around comic books there is the unwritten rule where no one truly stays dead either, so part of the experience going into Endgame was to see how the remaining Avengers plan to bring everybody back. Endgame kicks off with the fresh effects of ‘the snap’ when it starts with Hawkeye’s family all getting dusted from him in the middle of a picnic.

The film transitions to the remaining un-dusted Avengers squad of Nebula (Karen Gillan) and Iron Man (Robert Downer Jr.) floating aimlessly in space until the convenient deus ex machina that is Captain Marvel miraculously tracks them down and hauls them back to Earth. A few weeks Avengers HQ tracks down Thanos on an isolated planet and with Captain Marvel’s power, they anticlimactically kill him off in a brief scene. This was one of the parts of the film that did not sit well with me after building up Thanos as this unrivaled threat in all the previous films, and to have the Avengers cold-bloodedly put him down in quick order seems so……unlike them, but he did off half the universe so I understand how the Russo’s felt justified for filming it that way, but I cannot help that it did not come across right, and could have been handled better. Of course, a more proper Thanos battle would be coming later in the final act thanks to my pet peeve plot device that is…. …TIME TRAVEL!!!! This and alternate dimension traveling I despise and have turned me off to many shows over the years like Lost and CW’s DC shows. The worst of it is indeed present here because meaningful character deaths that happened in Infinity War to Loki (Tom Hiddleston) and Gamura (Karen Gillan) become undone and their sacrifices proved for naught. All that griping aside however, I will give the Russo brothers credit because even with those qualms I feel they pull off time travel and have it appear as more than a convenient storytelling method. Again, major props because that is a hell of a hurdle to overcome. The filmmakers go out of their way in a couple scenes to directly call out Back to the Future’s style of time travel bullshit, and have a couple characters ever-so-carefully explain in detail and for the laymen how “real” time travel works.

This is all thanks to a rambunctious rat who inadvertently zaps Ant Man (Paul Rudd) out of the Quantum Realm…after being trapped there five years due to his team being on the end of a dusting before bringing him back. Ant Man deduces upon his return that he is able to undo the dusting through his van-quantum-realm-contraption, and convinces the Avengers to conjure up a plan they cleverly dub the “Time Heist” to travel back to capture all the Infinity Gems Stones before Thanos does. I loved how these scenes played out, and there is a plethora of fan service throughout it as the three squads of Avengers jump to different periods like the final battle of the original Avengers film, and a 1970 military base where Howard Stark (John Slattery) unknowingly meets his son. Plans do not proceed swimmingly to say the least, and past timeline Thanos becomes clued in to their plan and thwarts the Avengers attempt at trying to undo the past in a CG showpiece for the ages with his assault on Avengers HQ. The CG fireworks continue to dazzle for the bulk of the final hour of the film with a climatic showdown between Thanos and his forces against The Avengers and the returning of the dusted Marvel characters. I have seen too many comic book films fail at translating over-the-top comic book action on the silver screen, but the Russo brothers always manage to pull it off. I fondly remember the theater crowd going gaga when Captain America (Chris Evans) summons Mjolnir and wallops Thanos with it. The women of Marvel have another moment to shine together where they collectively team up to kick ass. Moments of levity are brilliantly peppered in throughout the chaos for a much-needed chuckle from the nonstop adrenaline-boosting action. That final battle masterfully builds up to the dramatic sacrifice of Iron Man in the standout emotional scene of the film.

The resulting aftermath was heartwarmingly done here with a pre-recorded farewell from Iron Man, and a collage of nearly all the major and minor MCU characters at Iron Man’s funeral. I believe this is the first MCU film without a post-credits tag, and that is 100% fine by me, because the beginning of the credits is a lovingly crafted tribute to the original Avengers cast done in the fashion of the Original Series cast of Star Trek VI that resonated with me feeling the end of a pivotal era of the MCU that I have been largely enjoying since the original 2008 Iron Man. I usually do not dive into this much detail and spoilers when recapping the movies here, but due to this being the final chapter of this era of the MCU films I could not help myself, and believe me there is so much more I wanted to dive in here on because like I said, the Russo brothers crammed in an incredible amount of narrative into three hours. There is so much ground in here it is impossible for me to recap it all, and that it will in all likelihood be the fastest three hour movie you will ever endure. I did not get a chance to even touch on over-the-hill Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and the hybrid Bruce Banner/Hulk (Mark Ruffalo (spoiler: they both killed it!)). Endgame unsurprisingly did major bank at the box office, so I feel safe knowing most of you reading this already watched it by now which is another reason I went all out on the spoilers.

I re-watched the film for this entry a second time with commentary from the Russo brothers, and writers Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely, and that greatly helped explain some little tidbits that were easy to miss and/or not fully comprehend in the midst of the three hours. I know this is a little detail, but I want to give props to Marvel for being one of the few companies out there for shelling out resources to caption the commentary track! I exponentially appreciate it more than you know! The commentary helped with understanding why they did not do a lot for Black Widow’s (Scarlett Johansson) aftermath of her death because she has her prequel film set to release. Other notable takeaways from the commentary was how Stark’s “I am Iron Man” line was a last minute addition to the film, giving credit to Star Trek VI as inspiration for their credits sequence, being hopeful for Marvel capitalizing on Falcon donning Cap’s shield and lots of understandable love for the visual effects team for their hard work. Aside from the commentary track, the BluRay has a second disc with just under an hour of bonus material. There is the requisite short, but top-of-the-line gag reel that is standard in most Marvel Studios home videos. There are five minutes of deleted scenes worth a look, with some of them lightheartedly covering up plot holes. Remembering Stan Lee is a touching tribute to Stan, filled with archived interviews from him on his experiences in the cameos, and showing plenty of delightful off-camera interactions with the cast and crew. There are well done character profile pieces for Thor, Black Widow, Captain America and Iron Man, with each one having countless cast and crew state proper kudos to what the actors have done for those characters over the years. If you only have time for one then I recommend Man Out of Time: Creating Captain America, because it goes into a little more detail than the others and Chris Evans has some intriguing introspection from his years with the character. Finally, there are short, but worthwhile pieces on the Russo brothers and the women of the MCU that should not be skipped out on either.

As I mentioned above, the hype building up to Endgame was insurmountable, but Joseph and Anthony Russo overcame the odds and delivered a gratifying conclusion to this era of the MCU. Watching the BluRay upscaled in 4K on a TV about a third bigger than my previous set made it a grander experience too for those showpiece moments. Sure I had quibbles and nitpicks I mentioned above, but by and large those are easily overcome by how much the Russo brothers got it right with this film. I am kicking myself for waiting a year and a half to re-watch it, but picked up on a lot of little things that went right over mine and Drax’s heads the first time out. If you have yet to give The Avengers: Endgame another viewing, then do not hesitate because you will not regret once again taking in this landmark epic that delivered against all odds! Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve The Clapper Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Last Action Hero Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Nintendo Quest Not for Resale Payback (Director’s Cut) Pulp Fiction The Punisher (1989) The Ref The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Pilgrim vs the World The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 24: Don’t Count Your Chickens...

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1136

Jonathan wasn't entirely sure where he was. Physically he knew he was in Arkham and was vaguely aware of the straightjacket binding his arms to his torso. But mentally, he was adrift. Neither in control nor out of control, he felt that he was somewhere in the middle along with Scarecrow, who was characteristically raving against the situation. Unable to gain full awareness of his surroundings, he had already lost track of time, but he was sure that if he had to listen to Scarecrow for much longer, he might truly go insane.

Luckily, that didn't seem to be in the cards. When the door to their cell swung open, it came so unexpectedly that the shock pulled both Jonathan and Scarecrow back to the cusp of control, each trying to force the other back down.

They watched the corridor as their fellow inmates began trickling through. While Scarecrow found himself confused, Jonathan's heart began to beat faster as he slowly pieced together what was happening.

Good call sending El away, Jonathan praised, feeling pride as he realized who must have been behind this.

Unfortunately, restrained by a straitjacket as they were, there was no point in them joining the throng of criminals spilling out of the asylum.

As quickly as they had resigned themselves to that fact, two SWAT men entered the room, dropping a bolt of burlap—our mask, no, my face— onto their lap before loosening their restraints. Jonathan's feeling of pride swelled even further when the taller of the two men spoke.

"That girl, Elianna? You must be pretty important to her. We asked why release everyone instead of just you, and she said something about revenge for taking you in the first place. She was pretty angry."

"I don't doubt it," Jonathan spoke disconnectedly while Scarecrow stood and put on their—his. Our?—face. "She has some...." while Jonathan was conjuring up the right word, Scarecrow took over, chuckling darkly. "Issues."

.xXx.

El was waiting impatiently just outside the asylum grounds, flanked by Axel, Aleksi, and Sam. The more inmates came spilling out before Jonathan, the more frustrated she became. However, watching the swarm of criminals through the slightly distorted lenses of her mask brought her a twisted sense of fulfillment.

If they wanted to play hardball, then she would gladly oblige.

Between the dispersion of the toxin that would soon occur and the criminally insane being let loose on this city, Gotham's finest would have a hell of a time trying to maintain order. The thought of the impending chaos summoned a smile to her face.

Gotham in freefall. What a beautiful thing to have the opportunity for rebirth. They should be grateful.

Finally, she caught sight of Scarecrow's mask, and her heart leapt. He was being escorted through the mire by two armed guards.

El dashed forward to meet them, her men right behind her. The masked pair stopped right in front of each other.

"Scarecrow?"

"I'm here. Beautiful job with all of this, gorgeous." The rough voice was surprisingly comforting, given El's previous run-ins with the straw man, and she grinned beneath her mask.

"Is Jonathan alright in there?"

"Oh, he's just fine. Very proud of you. Let's get started. Tearful reunions can come later." He brushed past her without another word, leaving El to dismiss the SWAT officers. They understood that their work was done and retreated to their truck with a nod from her without question.

With that done, El turned back to follow Scarecrow, beckoning the trio of men to trail along. As the five stood on the hill of the long driveway, looking out over the city, sounds of unrest and fear were already spreading, no doubt caused by the mass break out.

"Listen to that." Scarecrow was already enjoying himself immensely, practically breathing in the panic.

"They have no idea what's coming." They stood another moment, bracing for what else the night would bring before El spoke again. "I take it we won't be getting out of the city before it hits?"

"No, we missed the pick-up. I'd much rather be here anyway, wouldn't you?" The burlap mask turned to El, and she could practically hear the deranged smile behind it, flashes of the first time she had seen it swimming before her eyes. Despite that, she found herself smiling back.

"Yeah. I've put too much skin into this game to miss it." She gave one last look to the city before turning to the thugs that had helped her. "You boys had best find somewhere to hide. You're not going to like what comes next."

"You sure, boss?" That made Scarecrow's ears prick, and he whipped his head to watch the interaction with narrowed eyes. "You know we'd have your back anywhere." The trio had grown very attached to El in 24 hours. All things considered, she was the best boss they had ever had.

"Oh, I know, and we'll remember that. For now, you all get out of dodge. And stay out of our way, for your own good." The trio nodded, and she said her final goodbyes with a quick hug for each of them before returning to the masked man, while the goons retreated in the opposite direction.

"They should know better than to talk to you like that in front of me."

"What, you jealous?" El scoffed. "Unsubstantiated, don't you worry yourself about them. Come on; it's about to start. I don't want to miss anything."

With that, the pair started their trek into the city. As they grew nearer, the sounds of screaming and chaos grew louder and louder, signaling that the attack had begun. Scarecrow smiled to himself at the cacophony. He had waited almost Jonathan's whole life for something like this, and nothing was going to stop his good time.

Jonathan—trusting Scarecrow to handle the situation, given that this was his area of expertise—let himself float in middle space. The distant, muted cries of a city in distress marked his success, and he allowed himself a moment of rest. He had done it; all of his work and effort to bring the night's events into fruition had finally seen a conclusion.

Amidst the pandemonium of the city burning, he and El could find a way out of the city. Maybe steal a small boat from the city's elite and get to the mainland. Regardless, they would get away, find somewhere else and mind their own business. It was a nice thought, relaxing.

Even still, he was careful not to get too far ahead of himself. Anything could happen before Scarecrow had had enough to let him try to regain control. Even residing in the back of their mind, he had to stay vigilant until he could take that chance.

It was going to be a very long night.

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.20

Camelot. Valley. Continued. (Queen Annis heads toward her niece as Morgana turns with a scowl and disappears into Caerleon’s army.) Merida: "What in heaven's name have you done?" Queen Annis: "Hello, Merida. What a pleasant surprise to see you." Merida: "You cannot trust Morgana, she's-" Queen Annis: (Interrupting:) "Allowed me to do what you could not? The once mighty Arthur Pendragon lies dead at my command, not yours. I should always have been the one to claim Dun Broch's throne after Fergus' death." Merida: "I am his daughter and rightful Queen of Dun Broch." Queen Annis: (Scoffs:) "Your people are welcome to you. I have just claimed half of all Camelot in Caerleon's name. You can barely control the members of your own clan." Merida: (When Annis turns to leave:) “Don’t be taken in by Morgana’s fine words. She is consumed by bitterness, it spreads within her like a disease.” Queen Annis: “Have you forgotten how Arthur killed your father? Do you not deny that you sought revenge?” Merida: “Yes, I sought revenge. But that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.” Queen Annis: (Laughs with derision:) “You are weak, Merida, as I always thought you were.” (Annis walks away. Hidden in the crowd, Morgana sees Xena and Gabrielle searching for someone. Suspecting that they mean her harm, Morgana turns her attention to Darian and, her eyes glowing, uses her powers on him. Grimacing momentarily, Darian shakes his head. Looking beside him, Darian pulls his long sword from Arthur’s chest and stalks toward his new targets. Spotting Morgana before she disappears further into the crowd, Anastasia turns to see the giant about to split Xena in two with an overhead swing. Thinking quickly, Anastasia uses her powers and Darian's sword disappears mid-swing. Turning to face their attacker, both Xena and Gabrielle draw their weapons.) Gabrielle: "By the gods, he's almost as big as-" Xena: "Grinhilda, I know!" (Ducking a fist from Darian, Xena rolls out of the way. Gabrielle fearlessly jumps onto the behemoth's back but is flung to the ground for her trouble.)

(Xena runs up behind Darian and slashes him across the back. The giant falls to his knees and Gabrielle kicks him down. Xena is poised to strike when soldiers surround them, aiming their crossbows while Agravaine looks on from above. Seeing Xena and Gabrielle stand back to back before being restrained and shackled, Merida surges forward, but is held back by Anastasia.) Merida: (Struggling against her:) “Let me go! We have to help them!” Anastasia: “No! No! We can't help them now. But we can help each other!" (Anastasia waves her hand and they disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Returning from the station, Regina walks along the pathway to admire Emma's handiwork.) Regina: "Hey." Emma: (Turns:) "Hey. Be careful not to trip over any branches." Regina: (Smiles, looking around:) "I'm very impressed." Emma: "Thanks. It's been needing a good going over for awhile now." Regina: "Haven't we all." Emma: (Chuckles:) "You're insatiable." Regina: "Only for you." (They kiss.) Emma: "I've raked the leaves, mowed the lawn and now I'm just finishing up with the hedges." Regina: "Well don't work too hard, you can always just do all this magically." Emma: (Wipes the sweat from her brow with her arm:) "Yeah, I know, but sometimes it's nice to do things the old fashioned way, get a good sweat going." Regina: "I can see that." Emma: (Smiles:) "Don't worry, now that you’re home, I'll use my magic to clear the rest up once I'm done." Regina: "Okay, good. Is Maria sleeping?" Emma: "No, I've got her picking apples from your tree. (When Regina raises an eyebrow:) Relax. (Leans down and picks up the baby monitor:) She went down about half an hour ago." (Tosses it to Regina.) Regina: (Catching it:) "All right well I'll leave you to it. But you know... (Curling her finger into one of Emma's belt loops and pulling her close:) if this is the kind of thing I'm going to be coming home to, I think our retirement is going to be pretty sweet." Emma: "Oh, you have no idea." (They kiss once more, pulling each other close with their free hands as Emma holds the chainsaw in one and Regina cradles Maria's baby monitor in the other.) Forest. Stream. (Lancelot and Guinevere walk along the forest path beside a stream.) Lancelot: “We’re not far now. This stream leads to the lake.” Guinevere: “How did you know?” Lancelot: “I’ve been here many times.” Guinevere: “No, not about the lake. How did you know my feelings for Arthur weren’t real?” Lancelot: “Well... because he’d only been back a day and there was no way you could have possibly forgiven him for those years he kept you by his side against your will.” Guinevere: “Did you suspect, even back then?” Lancelot: “I suppose I always held out hope that you would one day leave him, but I couldn’t have imagined Arthur capable of such an evil act.” Guinevere: “Well, they do say love makes you do strange things. Despite everything that came after, I believe Arthur truly did love me in the beginning.” Lancelot: “What he did to keep you was not an act of love. It was cowardly and unforgivable. Love is about finding someone and thinking about them all the time. It’s about caring about them more than anyone or anything. The Arthur I knew was only ever concerned about his destiny. He never deserved you, Guin.” (Their conversation is cut short at the sound of a rider approaching. Morgana rides through the woods and pulls her horse to a halt at the sight of them.)

Morgana: (Smiles:) “My my. What a delicious coincidence?” Lancelot: “Run Guin! I’ll hold her off.” Morgana: “Aw. How sweet.” (Guinevere begins to run as Lancelot pulls his sword and charges at Morgana. Urging her horse into a gallop, Morgana rides straight at Lancelot. Conjuring a lance into her hand at the last moment, Morgana almost decapitates Lancelot with it, knocking him down to land hard on the forest floor, unconscious. Laughing, Morgana drops the lance and turns her attention towards Guinevere.) A Short Distance Away. (Guinevere dashes through the forest, passing a tree and inadvertently snaps one of its branches in her rush. Morgana continues her pursuit and stops to look for any signs. Spotting the snapped branch, Morgana smiles and heads off in that direction.) Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Snow White and Henry sit together in a booth while Henry wears a stunned expression on his face.) Henry: "You're not serious?" Snow White: "Well why not? I'd say you'd be uniquely qualified for the position." Henry: "How did you come to that conclusion?" Snow White: "Henry, you've literally written the book on everyone in this town. Plus, growing up with Regina, you must have sat in on your fair share of Town Hall meetings?" Henry: "Yeah and I was bored out of my mind through all of them. I'm sorry, Grandma, but I'm not the guy you want to run as mayor." (Henry stands.) Snow White: "Promise me you'll at least think about it. It would mean working shorter hours and a heck of a lot less time spent in your car." Henry: "Hey, the taxi service might be a dead end job but at least it has the possibility of excitement. Listening to people complain all day and then going blind doing paperwork is about as far from where I wanna be as I can think of." Snow White: (Slides out of the booth:) "All right, so where do you want to be?" Henry: "I don't know... off on an adventure with my fiancee somewhere. As a matter of fact, I'm only back driving because Ella and I couldn't decide on where we should start looking for one."

Merlin: "I might be able to point you in the right direction." (Snow White and Henry both turn to look at the Sorcerer who sits alone at a table.) Henry: "You know where Ella and I can find ourselves an adventure?" Merlin: "Yes. I believe I know just the place." Henry: "That's great. Where is it?" Merlin: "Ah. Before I tell you, you must first do something for me." Henry: (Looks to Snow White who is unsure about this:) "All right, what is it?" Merlin: "You must promise me that you won't tell your mothers I had anything to do with aiding you on your quest." Henry: (Smiles:) "Deal." Swan-Mills House. (Regina checks in on Maria who's still sleeping soundly, laying on her back with her arms up over her head. Smiling, Regina wonders just what her child could be dreaming about. Although not prone to crying like her big brother was at this age, Maria would nevertheless refuse to sleep alone during Emma's prolonged absence. Indeed, Regina would often find herself watching Maria drift off on those sleepless nights they shared a bed. The fact that on the night of Emma's return, Maria resumed sleeping in her cot without fussing once, only helped confirm Regina's theory that her daughter didn't much like the idea of her mother spending her nights alone. Backing out of the room, Regina leaves the door ajar and heads towards the staircase. Stopping at the large window that overlooks the garden, Regina notices that Emma is still hard at work. Captivated at the sight of the muscles in her wife's arms flexing, accentuated by the perspiration glistening in the sunlight, Regina sinks down onto the window seat to continue watching the show.)

Forest. Continued. (Guinevere runs at full speed now as Morgana gallops through the woods. Guinevere falls, but gets up quickly and keeps going only for Morgana to catch up and cut her off.) Morgana: “Guin. Nice to see you again. Oh, you’ve forgotten. I’ve hunted these woods since I was a child.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please, we were friends once, were we not?” Morgana: “You misunderstand me. I only wish to help. The path to Camelot is that way.” (Morgana points.) Guinevere: “It’s you who has forgotten it seems. I know these woods, too.” Forest Road. Past. (Morgana and Guinevere ride through the woods with an escort.) Morgana: “You look troubled, Guin.” Gunivere: “I’m fine.” Morgana: “You’re very secretive these days. I’m beginning to think there’s a man involved.” Guinevere: (Scoffs:) “When do I get to meet any decent men?” (Suddenly, their party is attacked.) Sir Robert: “My ladies, you must follow me!” (The knight is shot in the back. Guin and Morgana are pulled off their horses. A knight kills the men holding them.) Morgana: “Guin! Head for the path! Go! (Guinevere and Morgana run up the hill, but Kendrick is waiting for them:) I warn you. I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon. He’ll have your heads if any harm comes to me.” Kendrick: “I have no intention of harming you. At least not yet. You’re much more valuable to me alive, Lady Morgana.” Bandit’s Camp. (Morgana and Guinevere observe the bandits from inside a tent.) Morgana: “He’s coming. You know what you must do?” (Guinevere nods.) Kendrick: “I trust you are comfortable?” Morgana: “I demand to know where you’re taking us.” Kendrick: “You’ll find out soon enough. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. Get some rest.” (Kendrick turns to leave, but Morgana walks out of the tent after him.) Morgana: “I wish to bathe.” Kendrick: “You wish to bathe?” Morgana: “I am the King’s daughter and accustomed to certain standards. I am sure you are quite contented to stink like a pig, but I am not.” Kendrick: (Speaks loudly so his men can hear:) “The Lady Morgana wishes to bathe! Who wants to help me guard her?” (Coarse laughter rises from the men.) A Short Time Later. (Morgana begins to undress by a stream, two men guarding her and Guinevere.) Kendrick: “You may find the water a little icy.” Morgana: “I’m sure I’ll manage. (Glances over to see one of the men holding on to Guinevere’s arm. To Kendrick:) If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d give me some privacy.” Kendrick: “Well, unfortunately for you I am no kind of gentleman. Now get on with it.” (Kendrick chuckles and moves closer to her. Morgana removes her outer garment and the second bandit lets go of Guinevere to get a closer look himself.) Morgana: “You can at least turn your backs.” Kendrick: “So you can make a run for it. Do you think I’m that stupid?” Morgana: “I think you’re very stupid. (Guinevere pulls Kendrick’s sword and Morgana hits him, Guinevere tosses her the sword and Morgana slashes both men. To Guinevere:) Run! (The men pursue them through the woods:) No, no, this way!” (Guinevere stumbles and twists her ankle, Morgana stops and goes back to her.) Guinevere: “Run!” Morgana: “Put your arm around my shoulder, come on!” Guinevere: “No, no, no. We’ll never outrun them, you must go on without me!” Morgana: “I’m not leaving you behind!” Forest. Present. (Morgana smiles at the memory.) Morgana: “I remember very well. Truth is, it doesn’t matter which way you go. As long as you’re around, the people will always love you more.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please...” Morgana: “I can’t say I blame them really. You are far too delicate a soul to be mixed up in all this, Guin. I think it’s time to take you off the chessboard and release you from your burdens. (Not sticking around to find out what Morgana means by that, Guinevere starts running. Morgana’s eyes glow and Guinevere screams as she is thrown against a tree. Guinevere falls to the ground, unconscious. Moving her horse to stand over Guinevere:) Nu bebiede ic þe þæt þu lætest þine flæsc sclice gelic nysse. Wyrþ deor!” (Morgana’s eyes glow and a golden shimmer glows over Guinevere’s body. Morgana leaves with a smirk.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Pleased at a job well done, Emma waves her arms in all directions, magically sending all the garden debris into the recycling bin. Brushing her hands together, Emma starts whistling a familiar tune while she gathers up her gardening tools. Her arms now fully laden, Emma turns around to walk back up the path when she catches sight of a vision sitting in the upstairs window. Emitting a long appreciative whistle, Emma drops the tools noisily to the ground as she stares up at Regina, who is clad only in her underwear where any passerby could see her.) Window. (Smiling at Emma's reaction, Regina crooks her finger at her, indicating that she should come inside.) Outside. (Smiling at her wife's brazenness and not needing to be invited twice, Emma walks towards the house.) Forest. (Merida walks several paces ahead of Anastasia, clearly agitated.) Anastasia: (Stops walking:) "So you're pissed at me, is that it?" Merida: (Rounding on her:) "I am furious at you. How could we just leave them there?!" Anastasia: "If we had stayed, we'd be prisoners too." Merida: "Not necessarily. We could have fought. You could've used your magic to-" Anastasia: "To what? Blast the soldiers out of our way?" Merida: "Well it would've been something!" Anastasia: "I understand full well that you only invited me into this little gang of yours because I have magic. But if I used it as callously as you think I should, wouldn't that make me just as bad as Morgana? (Merida says nothing:) You know I'm right." Merida: "Yeah, but I don't have to like it." Anastasia: (Smiles:) "Come on, it'll be getting dark soon and I'm starving. What say you catch and I cook?" Merida: (Softening:) "I wouldn't hold your breath, there doesn't look to be any signs of life out here." Anastasia: "Well, I could always give you a five minute head start, Merida." Merida: "Funny." Anastasia: (Spots movement in the bushes:) "Deer!" (They chase after a doe running through the woods. Splitting up, Anastasia slows to a walk while Merida carries on ahead. She spots the doe and it looks at her. Anastasia senses something and hears Guinevere’s weeping. Anastasia realises what’s happened when she sees Guinevere’s running reflection as the doe passes by a small puddle. Merida arrives and passes Anastasia before taking aim.) Merida: “Well aren’t you a beauty?” (Coming to her senses too slowly to react, Anastasia watches in horror as Merida fires.) Anastasia: “No!”

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series?

https://ift.tt/36oBhxO

This article contains spoilers for Loki episode 5.

Agent Mobius did say that time ran differently in the TVA but who could have imagined that the penultimate episode of Loki would arrive so quickly? Marvel’s Loki episode 5 “Journey Into Mystery” keeps up a streak of superb installments for this increasingly superb show. 

In this hour, Mobius joins the side of the heroes, Judge Renslayer has some questions, and Loki and Sylvie’s relationship continues to blossom thanks to the conjuring of an uncomfortable green blanket. Equally as important, however, is that “Journey Into Mystery” raises some big questions about the ending of this show and the future of the MCU. Questions like…

What is The Void?

This episode does a pretty good job of succinctly describing what the Void is. The Void is the end of time, itself. Since the Time-Keepers are unable to completely destroy matter (Theory of Conservation of Mass and all that), they send unwanted Variants to the end of the timeline to languish or be swallowed by a hungry monster (more on him in a bit). 

In Marvel Comics, The Void is something of an actual character. It is a destructive amorphous entity capable of both adopting a corporeal form and destroying the universe as we know it. During the Siege storyline, the Void even killed Loki, which then facilitated his “rebirth” as Kid Loki. See how this all starts to fit together?

What is Alioth?

In the world of Loki, Alioth is a big, hungry cloud monster that prowls the Void looking to consume yummy matter. It’s the TVA’s unwitting cleaning service, wiping out all the Variants that the TVA can’t eliminate. Classic Loki helpfully offers up the analogy that the Void is a shark tank, and Alioth is the shark.

Alioth of the comics was first introduced in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1. That same comic also introduced Ravonna Renslayer and features Kang the Conqueror as its central villain. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together. 

Alioth is considered to be the first being that broke free from the constraints of time. It’s no wonder then that it would make an appearance in Loki.

What’s Up With That Castle?

It’s about time a Marvel villain lives in an honest-to-goodness castle! While it’s still possible that this is a misdirect and this environment is not what it seems, for now it looks like episode 6 will be headed off to a spooky castle.

Interestingly, there are no shortages of spooky castles in Marvel comics lore. Perhaps the most famous one is Castle Doom within Doomstadt. Bet you’ll never guess who lives there! Yes, it’s ol’ Victor von Doom himself, Doctor Doom to his friends…of which he has very few.

Another notable abode is Castle Limbo, which serves as the home of Immortus, who was once Nathaniel Richards a.k.a. Kang the Conqueror. Look, Kang is a confusing character, so you’ll just have to trust us on this one.

What is Mobius’s Plan?

Thank the gods that Loki and Mobius finally embraced their destiny as best bros. Mobius leaves all the Lokis behind in The Void to return to the TVA. What does he plan to do once he gets there? Why, burn the whole thing down, of course!

It’s unclear how Mobius believes he’s able to pull off such a grand task. The TVA is an enormous bureaucracy with seemingly infinite moving parts. The only real weapon that Mobius has at his disposal is the truth. The truth changed his and Hunter B-15’s perspectives but can it do the same for everyone else? The only other named TVA employee that we’re aware of is Casey (Eugene Cordero). He seems like a sweet, non-confrontational lad. But perhaps that will all change once he realizes he’s been robbed of fish dinners his whole life.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

What Becomes of the Other Lokis?

The most pleasantly strange aspect of “Journey Into Mystery” is how many new Lokis it introduces. This hour features: Classic Loki (Richard E. Grant), Boastful Loki (DeObia Oparei), Kid Loki (Jack Veal), President Loki (Hiddleston), and Alligator Loki (uh… a CGI alligator). Naturally, each of those Lokis has their own official hashtag sprite on Twitter. 

Fittingly for their chaotic energy, each of the Lokis introduced in this episode have quite different ultimate fates. Boastful Loki betrays his Loki comrades, because that’s just what Lokis do. The subsequent scene of President Loki and his Void army battling the other Lokis is one of the best moments of this show yet. That causes our Loki to take off with Classic, Kid, and Alligator. When Mobius invites that trio to come back to the TVA with him, they decline because the Void is their home now.

Read more

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That is the last we’ve seen of Kid Loki and Alligator Loki thus far but not the last of Classic Loki. The comic-accurate trickster returns to help Loki and Sylvie when they need it the most. He uses stunningly powerful magic to create an approximation of Asgard all around him, distracting the ravenous Alioth. Even Sylvie with her enchantress power is stunned by Classic Loki’s abilities. 

Is Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki Really Dead?

Ultimately Classic Loki is swallowed up by the Alioth and therefore finally blinked out of existence. Or is he? It seems like he could have been utilizing the very same technique here he claims to have used to escape his death at the hands of Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War. “I think we’re stronger than we realize,” Loki tells Sylvie, so this would certainly be a case of that if it came down to it.

Plus, that leads us to the final and most important question that this episode raises. 

Who is the Villain?

Who indeed? There has been one name bandied about as the most likely Loki Big Bad. Before we get to him (and it’s absolutely who you think), indulge us in another theory. What if the villain of Loki is…

Classic Loki or Another Loki Variant

Richard E. Grant is kind of a big deal as an actor. It’s not every day you can find a seasoned performer who can portray a kindly exterior with some menace underneath. With that in mind, it’s possible that Classic Loki is a bigger character than he appears at first glance. This episode goes out of its way to communicate just how powerful Lokis can be. And when you combine that kind of god-like power with a trickster’s sensibility, it’s not hard to imagine that Classic Loki, or another Loki entirely, could be pulling all the strings. 

Kang the Conqueror 

While Loki confronting himself in the end would make for a dramatically interesting enterprise, the hard evidence at hand still seems to indicate that Kang the Conqueror is our real villain. The internet at large has been banging the drum for Kang the Conqueror as the ultimate Loki villain for weeks now and it’s not hard to see why.

This isn’t a case of collective delusion like with all of the Nightmare/Mephisto WandaVision theorizing, Kang really does seem to be a legitimate possibility. For starters, we know we already have an MCU actor for Kang in the fold already in the form of Jonathan Majors (Lovecraft Country). Kang was announced for Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania but doesn’t it sound very Marvel for the character to make his unexpected debut here?

In the comics, Kang the Conqueror is wrapped up in multiverses, timelines, and all manner of heady sci-fi nonsense that Loki is already invested in. In fact, as Reddit user u/Hpotter821 points out, one iteration of Kang in Marvel comics sought to become Immortus by eliminating all of his other Variants. It would seem that creating the TVA to police other timelines would be quite useful in that mission. 

Then there’s the fact that Kang has at least some level of crossover with just about every major character and element of Loki. Kang has a relationship with Ravonna Renslayer in the comics and is also an occasional rival of Alioth. The show is not shy about injecting Kang’s aesthetic into the proceedings. While ostensibly space lizards as Loki described them, the Time-Keepers do appear to resemble the classic Kang the Conqueror look a bit. And the TVA logo? 

Oh. Hey. I just noticed that the centerpiece of the Time Variance Authority’s seal totally looks like Kang’s head. 🤷‍♂️ #Loki pic.twitter.com/93QzNDVSbi

— Ken Plume (@KenPlume) July 2, 2021

Oh yeah, that’s Kang, baby.

Perhaps by this time next week, all of this Kang conjecture will look as silly as WandaVision’s Mephisto fever dream. It’s undeniable, however, that Loki has provided us with plenty of breadcrumbs. If it’s all a Kang-sized red herring, then so be it. 

Doctor Doom

This is a considerable longshot, despite the fact that we’ve wanted it to happen for a long time. Doom was at the center of Marvel Comics’ multiverse-shattering Secret Wars event by Jonathan Hickman and Esad Ribic, and the castle we see in this episode’s conclusion sure does look an awful lot like his humble Doomstadt home.

Every time we get excited about Doctor Doom or the potential Secret Wars threads embedded in this show, we’re brought back to reality by the fact that there’s virtually no way that Marvel would introduce arguably their greatest villain in a teasing series finale episode, especially not when they’ve got the Kang-centric Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania to tee up with Kang. Yes, we’re hedging our best by including him, but can you blame us?

Anyway, patience, Doom fans. The Fantastic Four movie is finally a priority for the MCU, and we should see that by 2023.

Kevin Feige

This obviously won’t happen but in the spirit of Marvel’s next Disney+ series What If…?, what if Loki and Sylvie arrive to the throne room in the castle and Marvel Studios head Kevin Heige is hanging out there wearing one of his trademark baseball caps? As witnessed in WandaVision and now Loki, this phase of Marvel cinematic storytelling is clearly about setting up a new multiverse of possibilities. What better way to introduce that multiverse than by completely breaking the fourth wall?

OK, so there are probably a ton of better ways but Feige would at least be fun and truly unexpected.

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[elisaphoenix13]

In The Dark Of Night

Even after six years, his house remained standing in charred ruins. By the time anyone may have bothered to tear down the remaining skeletons of his past, the snap happened, so no one cared enough to do it. Harley had...mixed feelings about it. The house he grew up in had been untouched since the fire, but it was a painful reminder of what he lost and how. He was in Rose Hill on the anniversary of his mother and sister's deaths, and decided to swing by what he thought would be a rebuilt home where his had been. It had been both a relief and also heartbreaking to see it was just as he left it when he called Tony.

The closer this day got, the more he lashed out at the family he had now. He didn't mean to. It was just a painful memory that he wanted to get past. He loved his family. He had a father that would do anything for him and his siblings and wasn't a deadbeat. He had a 'mother', and although he was a man, Stephen stepped into the role easily and did everything a mother would do and then some. Harley never looked at Stephen as a second father. He was mom...from day one, but at the time he just didn't know it. He resisted and even gave the sorcerer the cold shoulder, but Stephen just looked at him in sympathy and spoke to him as if Harley wasn't foaming at the mouth whenever he tried to get close. He would always pay him on the head or the shoulder, make sure he was doing okay and eating, and only then give him his personal space.

When Stephen got shot protecting him and Peter, that was when Harley realized he almost lost a second mother. When he realized that Stephen viewed him as his child as well as Tony's and was willing to die to keep him safe. The teen decided then to stop resisting what the doctor so freely offered and it helped with a lot of the emotional pain. To know he was loved and wanted by both Tony and Stephen.

Harley loved his siblings. Peter, Diana...Val. Peter was his best friend first before he was his brother, and it was amazing how in such a short time, the younger teen had gone from glaring daggers at him to laughing with him over a controlled explosion in the lab. Dia had been a little too soon after his loss but he didn't lash out at her. It took time for him to warm up to her, but when he finally got used to having a sister again, the Snap happened. One moment she was just a few months old, the next she was five years old. He kind of understood how Stephen felt. He and Peter missed out on watching their sister grow up like Stephen had missed raising his only daughter. But he loved that she was old enough to play with. That she was open to rough housing with him even if she did cheat with magic.

Valerie really was the new start they all needed. She was in no way a replacement for Diana, and thankfully she never saw it that way. She was happy to have a little sister. Happy to have her brothers and mother back. She never got jealous because Stephen made absolutely sure that he gave her just as much attention as he gave Valerie. She really hung out with Cassie too much to get jealous anyway. Those two were attached at the hip and Cassie had been a big part of raising Diana, even if it was as her big sister.

That was an entirely new ballgame. Cassie. Peter had stars in his eyes the second he looked at her after the war with Thanos, and after some awkward fumbling on Peter's part...they started dating. They tried to hide it but that failed spectacularly because his brother was awful with secrets. It was a miracle that no one knew he was Spiderman yet.

Harley got jealous little by little when he saw Peter and Cassie together. Not just them either. His parents, Quill and Scott, Steve and Bucky...hell...even Bruce and Thor had their disgustingly sweet moments. He saw it all and he wanted it too. He was the bully though. Well, not so much that he sought out other kids to pick on, but more like he stood up for himself and Peter. He wasn't afraid to throw a punch. Being the bully wasn't exactly appealing to others.

Then, Cassie told Stephen about the twins. His mother took them in in a heartbeat, and Harley prayed that his parents wouldn't adopt them because William had garnered his attention the second he saw him. Harley eventually figured it was wishful thinking though because William was shy. He may be used to dealing with Thomas, but having to handle Harley would be too much to ask. He came to the conclusion that he may very well be alone for the rest of his life and he came to accept that. He could live with keeping an eye on his family.

With a sigh, Harley turns away from the blackened remains of his old home and walks to the small town's graveyard where he knew he would find his mother and sister's graves. Tony had paid for everything without batting an eye and when today finally came, Stephen opened a portal for him without a word. When he was ready to go home, all he had to do was text his mother and another portal would open for him. For now, he stood in front of the graves after placing flowers he had bought with his own money on each of them. He stood and stared until his focus directed into his mind where he tried to remember the happy memories he had of them. There were plenty with his sister, fewer with his mom since she had worked hard to support them...but they were there.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it must have been longer than his parents had expected because he heard a portal opening in the distance. The creaking of the gates to the graveyard followed shortly after, but the footsteps that approached were too light to be Stephen's.

"Harley?"

Harley froze. That definitely wasn't Stephen. It was William. He rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket before turning to look at the younger teen with genuine curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" William flinches at the tone that unintentionally came out of Harley's mouth and the elder sighs. "Sorry...I didn't mean it like that. I just expected Mom. Not you."

"It's...it's been a while. I was starting to worry." William replies quietly. "I can go--"

"No...uh...it's okay. You can stay if you don't mind waiting a little while longer." Harley says and thanks whatever entity is listening that night had fallen and his blush was hidden by the dark.

"I don't mind. Oh!" With a shy smile, he conjures a thermos seemingly out of thin air and holds it out to Harley. "Mom sent this with me for you. It's past dinner time and he knows it's cold."

Harley takes the thermos with a quiet thanks and opens it to release the mouth watering smell of tomato soup. Something he loved eating when it was cold and he was out and about like this.

"Mom or Cassie?" He questions and William shrugs.

"A little of both. They both made dinner."

"Since when do you call him Mom anyway?"

The younger's smile falters just a bit but it comes back a little softer as he moves closer to Harley to stand next to him. "Since I realized he and...Dad...are nothing like the foster families we had before. That we're here to stay."

Harley snorts in amusement. "You two will be the ones wanting to leave if anything." He pauses and glances over at William. "You don't want to, do you?"

"No. I'm happy with you guys. You're all a family and I actually feel like part of it."

"Your brother?"

"Him too...but I have a feeling he's just like you. Afraid to say how he really feels. He's still a little suspicious, but he's letting himself relax."

Harley holds back his urge to sputter because William was paying attention to his quirks. He instead grumbles and removes his gloves to hand to the younger when he starts exhaling into them to warm them up. William looks at him in surprise and before he can reject the offer, Harley holds up the thermos to show that he would be fine with it warming his hands. The younger smiles softly as he takes the gloves and puts them on, and they stand there quietly for another half hour. When the soup was gone, and Harley spent enough time at the graves, he pulled out his phone and texted Stephen as he headed toward the gates of the graveyard.

"Come on. Let's get home before we wake the dead." Harley jokes, and he narrows his eyes when William suddenly moves closer to him.

"Does that really happen?"

"What? Maybe? I don't know. Mom's a sorcerer so I believe anything at this point. Are you afraid of ghosts?"

"...ghosts are creepy." William says with a pout.

"You use magic too! You could probably banish them before they even got close!"

"What if they're deformed and--don't laugh!"

Harley couldn't help it. He never expected William to be afraid of ghosts and it was hilarious as well as adorable so he couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter.

"We better get out of here then. The zombies wake at midnight and it's a couple minutes til."

"Zombies?!" William glares at him with another pout when he realizes Harley's joking (half joking, it could very well be true for all they knew) before hitting his shoulder. "Jerk!"

Maybe there was a chance after all.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N:  Parts 11 and 12/13 run concurrently but from different points of view, so when you see Several Days Later, it’s all happening on the same day.  And at last murder answers!

Also, shout out to @mandoandyodito cause their reaction gifs have been killing me over the last week.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]  [PART 8]  [PART 9]  [PART 10]

Chapter 11 

Final Pieces

She stayed like that until she watched the life fade from his eyes and his body stilled.  He was dead and it was done.  When she was sure of it, she got up and turned back to Jack.  He was staring at her with a dazed look in his eyes.  Dropping the gun, she hurried over to him, falling to her knees between his legs. Her hands came up and gripped his face.

“Jack.” She whispered it so low that only he could hear it, fearing that he may not love her anymore.  Not after he watched her kill a man in cold blood.  She didn’t know if she could live without him in her world.  The elation that her pain was at an end abruptly left her at the idea of having nothing for her on the other side of it all.

“Marigold.”

She nearly missed it, but when the sound reached her ears, her eyes flew up and looked into his.  Behind the dazed look was love and admiration.  He didn’t hate her or fear her or whatever else her brain conjured up in those few moments.  No. 

 Jack loved her and he was proud as hell that this woman he loved so much saved her own self from the nightmare that nipped at her heels for five years.  He reached up and grasped her face before slamming his lips against hers.  Their kiss was a heady mix of desperation, admiration, and love.

In those moments, when Port was strangling him, Jack didn’t feel fear at his situation.  Instead, he felt deep despair that he’d may never see his Marigold again and that he was leaving her alone without him.  But now, all that dissipated as he felt his love for her coursing through his veins.

When they broke apart, both had tears in their eyes and wide smiles. She grabbed his wrists and held them. Their small moment was interrupted as Champ unleashed the agents.  Ginger and Tequila rushed over and dropped to their knees, wrapping their arms around the duo, and they collapsed into a laughing heap of limbs.  Ginger kissed Shirley on the cheek and cried.  Tequila grabbed her and held her close.

“Darling, I told you that you could shoot the pitcher.  Didn’t me and Whiskey train you right?”  His joking tone was roughed by his tears.  The four sat there for long moments holding onto each other as other agents came in and cleared the scene.  Champ turned to Merlin, who was standing next to him.

“Can you stay a little longer?  I’m going to need help with the West Coast crew when they get here and I’m a little ashamed to say, I don’t want to break up that party.”  He pointed at the crew with his thumb.  Merlin smiled while he nodded and walked out with Champ to debrief some HQ agents and prep for West Coast.

Snuggled in the arms of her friends, Shirley looked up and caught Jack staring at her, grinning stupidly.  Certainly, one that matched her own.  She mouthed something at him, and his smile got impossibly bigger.  He mouthed back to her.

“You and me and marigolds.  Always.”

---***---

Several Days Later

“The report came back, Ginger.  I think we got a hit on who Agent Port really was.”  Merlin walked over with the paper he printed off. Statesman Austin had sent over a file on a missing agent who went by code name Kirsch.  Ginger took the paper from him and looked at the picture.  She grimly looked up at Merlin, who nodded back.

When they read the report, much of it was redacted.  Ginger realized they needed the whole thing in order to tie up this case and close it once and for all.  She grabbed the phone on her desk and hit the button for Champ’s office.

“Champ, I need you to call Austin and tell them to send me the unredacted files for an Agent Kirsch.”  Ginger told him the picture looked exactly like the dead man in the morgue.  He put her on hold before dialing down to his Texas brethren.  After giving them a verbal beat down, he got back on the line with Ginger.

“Check in five minutes, it should be all there.  I swear to god, I’m going to fire that whole ass office myself once of these days.  I never liked Agent Rum, too damned arrogant for my liking.  And now his staff is starting to act that way.  I swear God is challenging me every time I gotta call them.” Champ ended his rant with a swig of bourbon.  “If it didn’t make me look like a complete asshole, I’d make ‘em put Mezcal in charge. Now that’s a damn agent worth something.” 

“Yes, Champ.”  Ginger smiled into the phone.  Something about this conversation felt like old times, before California.  To be happy a man is dead may seem crass, but she was elated.  The invisible cloud that hung over their little group was finally dissipating.   She hung up when Merlin signaled the arrival of the case file.

As the two skimmed the contents, Merlin whistled low under his breath. The unredacted files told the story of a man who loved pain.  Reports of him hurting fellow recruits in training, of causing physical harm in exercises, and plenty of them indicated that he was extremely violent towards suspects and even witnesses.  His entire history was a red flag and Austin ignored the whole thing.

Champ was right.  These guys were assholes.

---***---

Merlin threw the files up on the screen and together the two specialists worked to rethink their timeline.  At least thirty victims had been identified by Ginger, Tequila, and Chai over the years and ever since the microdrive came back into play a few months ago, over forty other possible names were given to HQ by other Statesmen offices.  Most of these were missing recruits, agents, and even retirees.

Ginger and Tequila took over the California case weeks after they returned to Kentucky.  With the limited information that Shirley had sent in, they slowly rebuilt the file load as best they could.  West Coast and Jackson Hole cooperated, but the work was slow.  It seemed that the killer could wait months between murders, and they were certain there were more victims out there.  

For over four years they pecked at the case when they could and when information came in, but it mostly stagnated until Shirley revealed the location of the microdrive.  That kicked the event into high gear, but they didn’t realize their dogged pursuit would bring the killer so close.

That drive also gave Ginger a personal win – she had suspected since the night they rescued Shirley that the person they were looking for was a Statesman and that he was keeping an eye on the case.  All the notes in Shirley’s internal report log drew the same conclusions, but she was stumped at how he was able to go undetected for so long given how wide his killing area seemed to be – all of California, Oregon, and Washington, as well as parts of Wyoming.  As active as a killer as he was, Statesmen were still bound by their jobs and would be tracked in the field.  But questions always have answers and they will come eventually.

---***---

“Oh my god. . .”  Chai sucked in her breath and looked up at Tequila.  “T, you need to look at this.”  He leaned over at the two files she was looking at and read them.  One was the death report of an agent from their Chicago office that went by the code name Pilsner.  The other was a report filed by Pilsner at the Jackson Hole office.  He looked at her – that first report was dated three months before the field report in her hands.

“Ging, I think we got something.” Chai called out.  Ginger looked over at her co-worker. “Pull every missing or dead agent, I need the list, I think I found how he was going undetected.”

With the tap of her fingers, fifteen faces popped up on the screen, including Pilsner and Port.  Neither looked like the man killed just days before.  Chai ran a search on the names and on her screens pulled up their field reports.  Tequila pointed out seven names besides the two they had found that filed field reports after they were reported dead.

Merlin moved back to his computer and pulled up the personnel files for every Statesman office.  Given the rather narrow naming scheme the offices use, it is not uncommon for several agents to take on the same code name in succession.  If the office was doing the work correctly, there will be a timeline of when the code name was in use.  He pulled the names he was looking for and the dates were cross referenced to the time frame they now built.

“Look at this.” Said Merlin.  “He was taking on the dead agents’ names after he killed them, but only if they were declared dead, but not in the line of duty, which would then alert other Statesman offices of the change.  If the name wasn’t put back into use right away, then he could modify his credentials within the system.  You have so many offices that its likely no one was paying attention to an Agent Port or Pilsner showing up to work a case. It’s how he could still access everything in Statesman and not get caught.”

“I bet you’re right, Merlin,” Said Tequila.  “I know all the front desk does is scan our cards when we arrive at an office, but beyond that, nothing else.  He clearly has the tech smarts to hide most of his tracks, but it sounds like he was relying on holes in the operating system to cover the rest.”

“Yeah, well it worked.  The Pilsner reports are from three years ago and it seems like we’re the only ones just catching all of this.”  Replied Chai. She shifted the files onto the main screen and let the computer put them in the timeline.   The four of them looked at each other and then back to the wall. Their timeline just got a lot easier as more pieces fell into place.  Ginger walked over to the phone and called Champ back.

“This case will be closed today, want to come watch?”

“I’ll be right down.”