#when we gettin your version mother?

[stylinson-spagghetti]

put the money in a bag and i stole the keys, that was the last time you EVER SAW MEEEE!!!!!!!

#rip me #i died dead #taylor swift #swifties #getaway car #reputation #when we gettin your version mother? #what was i talking about again? #yeah #THE BEAT DROP #this entire songggg

[hankwritten]

Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us

Day 1: SAVE (Napoleon Complex)

“Your earpiece.”

“I’m fine Spook. Nothing ever happens at these things.”

“Your earpiece, Conagher.”

Dell sighs, but holds out his hand for the microphone Marcel has been trying to nudge onto him. It’s a small relief. There are still a million other things Marcel has to do before the conference starts in full, not to mention Dell’s speech itself, and he has no time to quibble over such basic safety protocol.

“I don’t even see how it’d help in an emergency,” Dell continues, “what am I going to do? Start yellin’ oh no, someone help! Gettin’ assassinated over here!”

“Hopefully you would provide us with a bit more useful information than that: your current location, number of attackers, etc.”

“Number of attackers? Partner, this bunch a’ eggheads are about as docile as a herd of a’ electric sheep,” Dell says. “They ain’t coming at me in any great numbers. The way these fellers vent their frustration is by writing snide academic papers that claim I wouldn’t know a true isotopic configuration if it was making love to my mother.”

“Sounds scathing. Best not to offend them then. And keep your wits about you while you’re up there.”

“You always say that, and nothing’s gunna happen to me, just like it always never happens.” He smiles. “Honestly, with how little goes on, I don’t know why we even keep you around.”

Marcel stiffens. “If that is how you truly feel, then you may take it up with our employers.”

The corner of Dell’s mouth twitches downward. “I was just teasing you Spook, you know I like having you here with me.”

You wouldn’t if you knew the extent of what I’ve done for you, Marcel thinks, unbidden.

“Sometimes I don’t get you.” Dell sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t have to keep such distance with me, you know.”

Instead of replying, Marcel checks his watch. “Almost time. Go now. And remember what I said.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dell waves, smiling fondly as the opening speaker finishes introducing him. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Marcel waits. One breath. Then two. Just to make sure Dell is truly out of earshot; he then takes off at a dead sprint.

The common perception of a bodyguard is that of an intimidation factor: a large man, usually bald, always in a suit, who stands behind their charge and glares at anyone that gets too close. But that often isn’t realistic. The more visible a bodyguard is, the easier it is to plan for him; to dodge quickly, to know where his blind spot is. And indeed, there are many famous tales of celebrity escorts absolutely failing to take down a single overzealous fan who comes barreling out of the mob. The Hollywood-version of a sunglass’d stranger is useful as a deterrent, but nothing more.

It is much better to be the one with the plan than the one who needs to improvise.

Marcel’s footsteps do not clang as he takes them two at a time up the catwalk, as though he were a stagehand who’d toed them his whole life. The information fed into his earpiece during their conversation let him know that he is still where he should be, that everything is going as it should. The assassin is still fumbling with his gear when Marcel crashes into him with a knife in his throat and a hand around his mouth.

The struggle is brief. So much safer to eliminate threats before they happen. So much easier than the alternative, which would no doubt involve rushing onto stage and knocking Dell out of the way of an incoming bullet. Now, he simply has to pull himself upwards on the rail, straightening out his shaking legs. There is quite a bit of blood on him, yes, but none of it has dripped on the heads below. The conference goes on with none of the attendees the wiser, and Marcel takes a moment just to take it all in. Dell is on stage, in front of a projection with graphs and strings of numbers Marcel cannot even begin to fathom, but the audience is writing in their little pocketbooks and nodding along. Dell is so…perfect up there. In his element. A true genius at work. The best of both worlds then, that he got to stay and continue his speech. Safe, yet going about business.

Marcel glances down at his hands, wet with blood. They’ve left shiny collections where he’s been gripping the rail, distracted as he’d stared down breathless at the man he is meant to be protecting.

God forbid you ever find out how many times I’ve ended a life like this, Marcel thinks. Then you would understand why I keep my distance. We’re in different worlds really. You have the chance at a somewhat normal life but I…I am too far gone.

He allows himself a minute of fading adrenaline and deep, bitter shame.

Later, Marcel is there with fresh gloves as he helps Dell down off the stage.

“How’d I do?” Dell asks, though he knows very well how he did.

“The brain trust seems entertained.”

Dell smiles at him, and oh if that doesn’t just make Marcel’s heart flutter. As though they are equally comfortable in their old song and dance, gently ribbing each other while they begin the walk back to Dell’s hotel room. Well, that’s not too far from the truth. Trying to maintain a conversation with Dell while there is still the buzz of death at the back of his mind is almost normal at this point. The routine certainly isn’t like his early days as an agent, when time could be sorted into either ‘mission’ or ‘time off’—now that division is too blurry to let his vigilance lax. Corporate assassins do not wait for one to come back from one’s smoke break, after all.

Yet, even knowing that, times like these are probably the closest he will ever get to contentment: simply walking, chatting with a friend.

“I don’t know,” Dell says. “When I brought up my evidence on single-state teleportation, I thought the crowd was going to start throwing things.”

“A simple scatter plot got them so riled?”

“Oh so you were paying attention when I put those slides together,” he smirks.

“Of course,” Marcel says. “I pay attention to everything you do. It’s my job, mon ami.”

“Well, it puts you one up on those folks. I swear, if they’d just listen this whole project could revolutionize transportation as we know it. But, I got a feeling they’re just gunna want my head on a pike, ask the TF to strip my position or something like that.”

“Tch,” Marcel says, suddenly feeling an impetuous anger. “What do they know anyway? The smartest man alive has just deigned to speak to them in their dingy little conference hall; they should be begging you to come back.”

Instead of replying, Dell abruptly looks down at his shoes, a deep smile crawling at the edges of his face.

Is he serious? Marcel wonders. Such a small compliment has him acting so pleased? It’s not like he doesn’t know what a genius he is.

“You’re sweet,” Dell says eventually.

And there, Marcel’s heart rate spikes right up again, almost as wicked as when he was fighting for his life. Damn him for ever taking this job, for ever letting these unprofessional, inconvenient feelings fester. Ones he can’t act on. They would require honesty he knows he’d never be able to muster, not when he fears that if Dell looks past the surface of his affable bodyguard, he’d recognize the true monster within.

A shadow follows him. One he can’t shake, even during these moments of pretend.

That shadow steps into the literal when an assassin dressed as a janitor levels a pistol at Dell’s chest.

Marcel does not think. Simply because he prefers to eliminate preemptively rather than reactively does not mean he can’t, and his body gains a life of his own. They had just been rounding the corner of the stairwell, side by side—it is just enough time to step in front of the shot.

The world goes a blazing bright, a cosmic white hole in his stomach. The second spent not-thinking-only-reacting buys Dell a moment of his own; he reaches for his belt radio, draws, and is suddenly firing a round into the janitor’s head.

Marcel collapses at the same time as the assassin.

“Shit,” Dell hisses, rushing down after him, trying to keep him upright.

If Marcel weren’t going into literal shock, that scene might have done something just about equivalent. “A gun?” he mumbles as Dell rips open his button-up to get a better look at the wound. “I didn’t clear you for that.”

“I’ve been working for the TF my whole adult life, Spook,” Dell says, a deadly focus as he begins applying pressure. “I was dealing with all ‘a this long before I had you, you know.”

“Still, I did not realize…”

God this hurts, Marcel thinks. Been far too long since I’ve been shot. I’m out of practice.

“I simply…never wanted you to see me like this,” he continues babbling for some ungodly reason. Blood loss, perhaps.

“I never wanted to see you like this either, goddamn bleeding out in my arms-”

Dell’s irritation is mounting as he tries to stem the blood flow. He glances around, but they’re alone in the stairwell, no help in sight.

“I meant,” Marcel says. “I did not want you to. To see me as a killer. To know the…the ugly side of what I do.”

That gives Dell pause. He looks down, thoughts connecting on his face, and Marcel would feel shame if he had the ability to feel much of anything right now. To know what a fool he must look, confessing his feelings minutes before his untimely death.

But after a moment, Dell says, “I ain’t blind to what you do, Spook. And I ain’t scared of it; fact I appreciate the hell out of it. ‘Preciate you. Which is why I need you to stay with me, you hear?”

“I am not going anywhere,” Marcel says, lazily waving a hand.

“Not funny.”

“Well, I assume you appreciate me for dedication and preparation, and not my humor.”

Dell’s eyes widen. “Preparation…that’s it.” His palm reaches up and clumsily slaps his earpiece, the one he had complained about only an hour before. “This is Conagher, emergency on the first floor, west stairwell. One assailant dead, but we need immediate medical assistance. Do you copy?”

Marcel marvels, distantly, glad one of us remembered. Though I do hope Mundy is actually monitoring the radio lines and not just napping in the surveillance van.

But, after two seconds of wretched silence, a crackling confirmation comes through over the wire. Dell’s shoulders sag with relief.

“Hear that?” he asks. “Help’s coming. Now you got no excuse to go slipping away on me.”

“Understood, Monsieur Conagher. Since apparently you ‘need me here’— your words.”

“I do. But it ain’t,” he says, “because you took a bullet for me.”

“No?”

“No. I just need you. That’s all.”

And, as Dell holds Marcel’s face in blood-covered hands while they wait for paramedics to arrive, he relaxes and thinks, of all the times I’ve been shot, this one is almost pleasant.

#dnadvalentines2023 #engiespy #practical espionage #napoleon complex #tf2 fanfiction

[eponastory]

Hey, saw the post where you think Aang is not suitable to be with anyone, and I...kind of agree. I mean, even though Bryke royally screwed up his character like a mother-effer, he's still fictional...and in the words of every person who likes somebody, but sees their dark side, "I can fix him!". XP But yeah, no, in the show, he's really just a shitty self-insert, the worst kind...gosh, I feel like everyone is brainwashed and accepting Aang's idiotic decisions in the comics and all the other crap media that relates to the original show.

But mark my words! The LA version of Avatar: The Last Airbender WILL BE BETTER than the cartoon! And people will know that soon. So get your nostalgia glasses off, Avatar 'fans', cause we gettin' real with this version. Meaning, your cartoon wasn't perfect, it wasn't flawless, it wasn't even epic! It was just a generic show, up when it reached season 3, and that's when it all went downhill. Yeah, I'm salty over the fans, bada-bing-bada-boom! XP

But yeah, even though Aang is played by an actual person, would you say that you like this Aang better than the cartoon version of Aang? Not because it's played by a real person, but maybe because this version of Aang is the REAL Aang that was needed in the cartoon? :O

Absolutely on all counts.

See, when it comes to animation, writers can get away with a lot of tropes and goofy things because it's a different kind of media. When it comes to acting out those goofy things and tropes, it is really hard for a human being to act in the exaggerated manner characters do in animation. That being said, this does lend more of a human connection to LA adaptations, and I also think that's why a lot of adaptations do fail. NATLA has a lot of work cut out for it, but I do think they have the right cast and made the right changes to reflect that. This is why it's getting a lot of heat from OG fans because they seem to forget that animation is hard to adapt. For what it's worth, I do think the show did a good job for the first season. It works. It definitely has some cosmetic and storytelling flaws, but I don't think it completely ruins it.

Looking at you, 2010 disaster.

I do love Aang in the LA because he is much less naive and actually more grounded, which is a plus.

But I do think the show would benefit from not having the romantic subplot of season 3 or the whole series in general. They did well in season 1 with the developing friendships, and I hope it stays that way. Otherwise, I think we will have the same problems that we had in the OG.

BTW Sokka and Suki being very awkward and cringy in the LA is exactly what happens when teenagers meet each other. If you don't remember those days, it's probably because you were born after Facebook was invented.

#I remember the days of Myspace and actual dating #netflix atla #netflix avatar #atla

[thelastspeecher]

I finally got my gay little hands on the last volume I needed of Smallville Season 11, and that inspired me to revisit some Smallville AU stuff. Specifically, I looked at what all I had written for the Angie version of the AU (where Angie takes Clark's place) and decided it wasn't enough. So I wrote some more. Okay. I wrote a lot more. Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Ford parked his beater car in the driveway of the McGucket farmstead.  To his surprise, the McGuckets, the family that had hired him as their farmhand, were already waiting on the porch for him.

              That’s odd.  I didn’t tell them when exactly I would be arriving.  No, they probably just heard me coming.  These gravel roads are loud.  Ford got out of the car, smiling hesitantly.

              “Hello!” he called.

              “Howdy!” replied Mr. McGucket.  Ford’s smile became more genuine.  He found it charming that Mr. and Mrs. McGucket had kept their southern accents despite living in Smallville for quite some time.  Ford pushed open the gate surrounding the house’s front yard and walked up to the McGuckets waiting for him.  There were three people about Ford’s age there with Mr. and Mrs. McGucket.

              “Welcome to our farm,” Mrs. McGucket said warmly.  “Did ya find the place all right?”

              “Yes.  It certainly helped that there was a large sign by your mailbox,” Ford said.

              “We best introduce ya to our kids.  Kids, this is our new farmhand, Stanford Pines.”  Mrs. McGucket pointed at the tallest of the three McGucket children, a young man with sandy blond hair and circular reading glasses.  “Fiddleford’s the oldest of these three, though he’s got three older siblin’s what have grown up and left.”  She then pointed at the other young man, who, with his dark hair and gray eyes, was a carbon copy of Mr. McGucket.  “This is Lute.  He’s the older twin.”  Mrs. McGucket finally pointed at the last child and only girl.  The girl had long caramel-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail and, unlike her brothers, hadn’t inherited Mr. McGucket’s nose.  Though her aquiline nose was still large and distinctive, far from her mother’s button nose.  “Angie’s the younger twin.  Fiddleford is a year older ‘n the twins.”

              They’re twins?  While they looked similar enough to be related, Angie and Lute’s different eyes, hair, and noses made them look more like cousins than siblings.  Stanford, be realistic.  Not all twins will look as similar as you and Stan do.  Particularly given that they’re clearly fraternal.

              “I’m actually a twin myself,” Ford said.  “However, my brother and I are identical, unlike the two of you.”  Lute crossed his arms.

              “Gee, what gave it away we’re not identical?” he drawled in an irritated tone.  Angie elbowed him roughly.

              “Be nice,” she hissed.  Both she and Lute were much shorter than average, unlike their tall and gangly older brother.  “He just got here and yer already on his case?”

              “I just don’t see the point in hirin’ a farmhand,” Lute said firmly.  “All he’s goin’ to do is slow the work down!  I reckon we’ll get less done with him ‘round!”

              “I know I’m new to this, but I highly doubt I’ll slow things that much,” Ford said, hurt.  Mr. McGucket crossed his arms and scowled at his youngest son.

              “Stanford makes a very good point,” he said.  “I don’t see how gettin’ an extra set of hands to help will slow things down, even if that set of hands don’t have farm experience.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Unless two of ya decided to dump yer chores onto the third.  Which yer not s’pposed to do, no matter how fast the third person can work.”  Fiddleford and Lute winced slightly, but Angie smirked.

              “Did ya have breakfast yet, Stanford?” Mrs. McGucket asked.

              “Oh.  Uh.  No.”

              “Come on in, then.  We can’t have ya doin’ chores on an empty stomach.”

              “No, I’m-”

              “We insist,” Mr. McGucket said.  He put his hands on Ford’s shoulders and steered him into the farmhouse.  His wife and children followed.  “We’ve got plenty of food.”

              “You’re already being far too generous by giving me a job as a farmhand, I don’t need-” Ford started.  But he was already standing by a chair in the kitchen.  He stifled a sigh and sat down.  Angie sat next to him.  Her bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.  “Um.  Hello.”

              “Ma ‘n Pa didn’t tell us yer story,” she said.  “All’s they said was that yer the new farmhand.”

              “Oh.  Well.  Um.”  Ford felt nervous under her intense stare, but it was better than the suspicion Lute was still eyeing him with.  “I’m from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey.”

              “What brings ya out here, then?”

              “Metropolis University.  I scoured the country looking for universities that would accept me as a student and count my course credit towards my high school diploma.  Metropolis University was the cheapest option.”

              “Yer not graduated from high school yet, but yer still goin’ to college?” Fiddleford asked.

              “Yes and no.  I’ll also be taking some courses at Smallville High.  I believe it is called dual enrollment.”

              “Ooh, what year are ya?” Angie asked eagerly.

              “I’ll be a freshman.”

              “Same as Lute ‘n me!”

              “Great,” Lute muttered.  Angie shot him a glare.  Lute cleared his throat.  “So, Stanford, do ya stick yer nose in other people’s business?” he asked.

              “Lute Everett McGucket!” Mrs. McGucket scolded.

              “What?  I think it’s a valid question, since he’s on our property.”

              “I- I wouldn’t dream of snooping,” Ford said.  “I’m here to work, so that’s what I’ll do.”

              “Why are ya here to work, though?” Lute asked pointedly.

              “Someone in town suggested I ask your parents for a job, given that many of your siblings can no longer assist on the farm.  And I do need a job.  I have to pay my living expenses somehow.  The kind of scholarships I can currently receive only cover so much.”

              “Hmph.”

              “Stop with the inquisition,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She placed a plate of pancakes in front of Ford, as well as a glass of orange juice.  “Go get a head start on yer chores.  Ya need it.  You, too, Fiddleford.”

              “Fine,” Lute grumbled.  He stomped over to a door that led to the backyard, slammed it open, and left.  Fiddleford grabbed the door before it could slam shut.  He smiled kindly at Ford.

              “Don’t mind him.  He’s a bit…protective.  Give him some time to warm up to ya.  It was a pleasure to meet ya, Stanford.”

              “Likewise,” Ford said.  Fiddleford exited as well, leaving Ford with the McGucket parents and Angie.  “Do you have chores to do?” he asked her.

              “Yes.  But I don’t need a head start like my brothers.”

              She’s the youngest, as well as a girl.  Not to mention, I have yet to meet someone quite as small as her at this age.  I’d imagine her workload is lighter than her brothers’.

              “Angie’s also the one who will be helpin’ ya get started on yer chores,” Mr. McGucket said.  He ruffled his daughter’s hair.  “We’ll start ya off easy today and work ya up to the more complicated things.”  Ford nodded to indicate he understood.  “Now, get to eatin’ ‘fore that pancake gets cold, young man.”

-----

              Ford wandered into the barn.  Like usual, Angie was there, tending to her horse, Daisy.  Like all the McGucket horses, Daisy was a Tennessee Walking Horse, though the only palomino they owned.  Ford couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that, after a year working on the McGucket farm, he now knew a considerable amount about animal husbandry and agriculture.  He’d never expected to learn anything about either field.

              I certainly never expected I’d become as physically fit as I am.  Farmwork was demanding in a way that even the boxing lessons he’d been forced to take weren’t.  Not that I ever gained significant strength or agility from those lessons.

              “Good afternoon, Angie,” he greeted.  Angie looked up.  She beamed.

              “Howdy, Stanford,” she chirped.  Ford couldn’t help but smile at her thick southern accent.  She and her siblings had picked up their parents’ accents, and as such, didn’t sound like anyone else in Smallville, the town they had grown up in.  “How are ya doin’?”

              “Better.”  Ford walked over to her and leaned against one of the horse stalls.  “Thanks to you.”

              “Oh, pish-posh.”

              “No, seriously.  If you weren’t there when the latest meteor infected person…”  Ford shuddered.  One of the most surprising and distressing aspects of Smallville was the presence of so-called “meteor freaks”.  Normal people who had somehow become affected by the meteor rocks in the area and gained superpowers.  They also typically became severely mentally unstable.  The latest person to become affected by the meteors had targeted Ford in particular.  Thankfully, Fiddleford, Lute, and Angie arrived at the last minute to save him.

              “I appreciate that ya don’t call ‘em meteor freaks like everyone else does,” Angie said.  Ford looked down at his hands.

              “I know better than to use that word against others,” he said softly.  “Even if they’re actively attempting to kill me.”

              “What do ya have against the word ‘meteor’?” Angie teased.  Ford managed a small smile.  “No, I get what yer sayin’.”

              “Speaking of the meteors,” Ford said slowly.  Angie cocked her head.  She dropped her curry comb into her grooming kit.  “Has anyone done any research into why they affect people in this way?  Meteorites elsewhere certainly don’t give people superpowers.”

              “I think Northwest Industries is doin’ research on it.”  Angie scowled.  She picked up her grooming kit and walked over to the shelving where they stored the various horse accessories.  “So fer all intents and purposes, no, no one’s doin’ research on it.”

              “Why do you say that?” Ford asked.  Angie put her grooming kit on the shelf.

              “You’ve been here fer a year, Stanford,” she said, turning to face him.  “How have ya not picked up on how horrible the Northwests are yet?  Any research they do, they’ll keep to themselves unless sharin’ it would earn ‘em more money.”

              “That’s a rather pessimistic viewpoint.”

              “It’s a realistic one.”

              “Still.”  Ford frowned thoughtfully.  “Maybe I should do some research on the meteor rocks.”

              “I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

              “Really?”

              “Sure!”

              “Would you help me?” Ford asked.  To his surprise, Angie paled.  She shook her head.  “Why not?”

              “I’m- I’m allergic.”

              “To…the meteor rocks?”

              “Yes.”  Angie winced.  Ford sighed.

              “You don’t need to lie to me.”

              “No, I really am!  Is it that surprisin’?  We were just talkin’ ‘bout how these meteor rocks are dif’rent from anywhere else on the planet,” Angie said firmly.

              “That’s a fair point…”

              “When ya do yer research, you’ll have to let me know what ya find out.  I’d like to learn more ‘bout where I came from, but it’s dif’cult with my…allergy.”

              “You have a very keen mind.  I’d love for you to look over my research,” Ford said.  His mind processed what Angie had said.  “Wait.  What do you mean by ‘where you came from’?”  In lieu of an answer, Angie began to walk away.  She paused briefly, then gestured for him to follow her.  Ford did so.  “Were you just referring to the fact you’re from Smallville?”

              “I’m no more from Smallville than you are, Stanford,” Angie said.  Ford frowned.

              “What does that mean?”

              “Just shut yer mouth.  If I tell ya, ya won’t believe me.  I have to show ya.”  Angie walked over to the storm cellar.  Ford had never seen the door unlocked.  And while Lute had warmed up to him over time, Ford never forgot how much he had insisted that Ford not snoop.  As such, Ford hadn’t attempted the small amount of lock-picking he’d learned from Stan.

              “Lute will be furious if he finds out I went in the cellar,” Ford said nervously.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Not if I’m the one what lets ya in.  It’s my secret to share, after all.”  She took hold of the large padlock on the cellar doors.  Before Ford’s astonished eyes, she clenched her hand into a fist, shattering the lock.  “Come on.”  Angie threw open the doors and descended into the cellar.  Ford followed her.  His jaw dropped.

              “Holy shit!” he blurted out.  Angie looked over at him in amusement.

              “I ain’t ever heard ya swear ‘fore.”

              “I’ve been on my best behavior.”

              “Clearly.”  Angie walked over to the object that had elicited such a strong reaction from Ford: a spaceship.

              A small one, yes.  Presumably for only one person to travel inside.  But a spaceship nonetheless.  I’ve consumed enough science fiction to be able to recognize one.  The spaceship was angular and made of some sort of dark metal.  There were no visible doors nor windows.  Angie placed her hand on the spaceship.  At her touch, the metal split, revealing an opening that only someone as small as Angie could fit within.  The inner walls of the spaceship lit with a pale blue glow.

              “Kara,” a voice boomed.  “Why have you shared your secret with this human?  He does not belong to your adoptive family.”  Angie crossed her arms, scowling at the ship.

              “I can trust him.”

              “My jewel, you are too trusting.”

              “And yer too suspicious,” Angie snapped.  She huffed impatiently.  “I’ll talk to ya later.”  She put her hand on the ship.  It closed again.  Angie looked at Ford.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  Artificial intelligence programs of deceased biological fathers.  Ya know how it goes.”

              “No,” Ford mumbled, surprised he could manage even a single word after what he had just seen.  “No, I- I really don’t.”  He took a deep breath.  “Angie, I believe I have correctly connected the dots, but I need you to say it out loud for me.  Please.”

              “All right.”  Angie sat down on the cellar’s dirt floor.  Ford sat as well.  “I’m not human.  I’m not even from Earth.  I was born on a planet in a completely dif’rent galaxy and sent here as a baby.  Ma ‘n Pa found me the day of the meteor shower.  Since that was the day they brought Lute home from the hospital, they decided to fudge the paperwork and claim I was Lute’s twin.”  Angie traced a finger through the dirt.  “They kept the truth from everyone.  Even me.  Until I- well.”  Angie grabbed a screwdriver out of a nearby toolbox.  “Don’t freak out.”

              “I think I’ve reached my freaking out maximum,” Ford said dryly.  Angie stabbed the screwdriver into her arm.  Instead of puncturing her skin, however, it bent.  Ford’s mind filled with static.  “I was wrong.  Apparently, I can freak out more.”

              “I got hit by a car and walked away without a scratch.  After that, I demanded answers from Ma ‘n Pa.  They spilled everything to me ‘n my siblin’s.”

              “You’re invulnerable?”

              “I didn’t used to be.  Well, I’ve always had pretty tough skin.  It’s just the complete inability to even bruise that’s a new development.”  Angie tossed aside the ruined screwdriver.  “I’ve got other gifts, too, which I’ve had m’ whole life.  My folks, though, they always just said I was one of them meteor folks, or that it was just adrenaline or whatever.”

              “You arrived the day of the meteor shower?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  “Do you know why?”

              “I…”  Angie closed her eyes.  “I don’t know fer sure.  But I…”  She pulled her legs close to her chest.  “I wonder if it may have somethin’ to do with the fact I was a lil baby flung into space all on my own.”

              “Angie, please don’t beat around the bush.  After everything you’ve told me, my brain is operating at half capacity.”

              “You at half capacity is still better than a lot of folks at one hundred,” Angie joked.  Ford sighed softly.  Angie looked down.  “I don’t want to say.  Sorry.”

              “I understand.  You’ve told me a lot today.”

              “Yessir.  I certainly have.”  Angie smiled weakly at Ford.  “Yer actually takin’ this better ‘n I did.”

              “Well, this does affect you far more than it affects me.  I’m not an alien.”

              “No.  Yer not.”  Angie’s eyes met Ford’s.  Her blue gaze had always been intimidating.  After these revelations, Ford couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she wasn’t human.  “But you feel like one.”  Ford’s heart plummeted to his feet.

              “That’s why you felt comfortable telling me,” he whispered.  “Because I’m an outsider as well.”

              “Obviously not as much of one as I am, but…”  Angie shrugged.  “Yer more visibly an outsider ‘n I am.”

              “Yes.  Of the two of us, I suspect most would believe I am the alien, not you.”

              “Exactly.”  Angie picked up the screwdriver she had tossed aside.  She idly bent it back to its original shape.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “I told ya.  I’ve got other gifts than what I showed ya.”

              “What are they?” Ford asked eagerly.  He winced.  “If- if I’m allowed to ask that.”  Angie stood up.

              “I’ll tell ya, don’t worry.  I’ll even show ya.”  She grinned.  “After we finish our chores.”

#I was going to split this up into two posts but I'm too lazy #so instead you guys get like 3k words dumped on you at once #Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Fiddleford McGucket #Pa McGucket #Ma McGucket #McGucket Family #Smallville AU #(at some point I'll use different tags for the different versions of the AU but I'm too lazy rn) #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Smallville Angie AU

[lollytea]

Girl Talk

(ngl I hate this sm. I wrote this fic yesterday, the file corrupted and i lost everything, had a breakdown, rewrote everything the next day because I am obnoxiously stubborn. Anyways Hunter and Luz content. Bon Appetit?)

(READ ON AO3)

“Okay, but what am I even supposed to say to her? Oh! Maybe I could write down some jokes on the back of my glyph slips in case things get awkward. Wait, no, I don't want her to think I'm not taking this seriously. I don't need to be goofy all the time just to hang out with her. I need her to know that I'm serious about her and this whole...romantic thing. And I know she gets upset when she thinks I'm making fun of her so...”

“Alright, so, get this. It says here that there was once this old witch who lived on the outskirts of Latissa and his whole thing was experimenting by mixing paints and magic together. Apparently the stuff he created was like....super powerful.”

“I mean, she said she likes me 'cause I'm goofy and funny and lovable and...and...and I'm sure there's other adjectives I could use but I'm drawing a blank here. So, who am I to deprive her of what she signed up for? But I can't just....ugh, I can't even think right!”

“It doesn't have a lot of info on his specific technique but I'm sure if we did some more research, we could successfully replicate his experiments. We're pretty good at figuring stuff out. Woah, wait. I wonder what would happen if we created glyphs with this paint....maybe it would enhance the spell's level of power. Oh, that would be so cool!”

Luz stopped pacing, the floorboards practically burning after she thoroughly wore down the surface with her frantic footsteps. She set a hand on her hip and turned a withering look on her guest.

“Call me coocoo but I don't think you're listening to a word I say.”

Hunter lifted his head to blink up at her, chewing on the end of a pen. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, boxed in by towers of Eda's Wild Magic books.

There was a glassy look in his eye, as if he was trying to get his bearings after being abruptly yanked out of an alternate dimension.

He had been, in a way. Luz was inclined to call it “Booksville.”

When Luz first met Hunter, this sort of stuff was a big, huge No-No for him. She could've invited him to take a look at any one of those books, packed with information on that obsession of his and of course, he'd be crazy with intrigue but he would hesitate. If he even opened the book at all, he'd card through the pages with an almost jumpy sense of caution, as if the paper itself would sting his fingers.

Well, that ship had certainly sailed. It had taken him a while to get fully comfortable but nowadays, Hunter didn't ask twice before digging into the contents of Eda's books, soaking up every tidbit of every sentence until he had exhausted every page.

He had even brought his own index flags to mark his favorite passages. He had gone on a little rant earlier about how Eda was an outright maniac for dog-earring the page corners.

Luz made a mental note to never show him the state of her Azura books. He would probably cry.

Hunter had become so lost in the Wild Magic sauce, he didn't even seem to care about the fact that he was not supposed to be here.

Of course, Eda didn't mind that he was here. That is to say, Luz didn't technically tell her he was here. She and King were currently out, being menaces to society and all that fun stuff, as they usually were before Luz would sneak Hunter in.

So, to be fair, Eda had never specifically said that Luz was not allowed to let The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven into their home.

It was probably fine, right?

Yeah, it was probably fine that Luz had been hiding The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven in her bedroom like some kind of forbidden pet.

Speaking of forbidden pets, that precious red cardinal of his was perched like a Christmas decoration atop his shoulder. That little rascal did wonders for Hunter. He seemed so much cuter than he was when there was an adorable little palisman snuggling up to him.

Once Hunter had processed what Luz said to him, his features screwed up tight. He was offended.

“Whadd'ya mean I'm not listening? I bet you can't repeat anything I was just talking about.”

“Ugh! Yeah, Hunter, I heard you. Paints! You wanna start painting as a hobby and let me just tell you, I fully support your budding creativety and will hype up your work with my entire heart but please. Right now I am having a full blown Amity Calamity!”

“Yeah, okay, that is not what I was talking about. Also, I get that you're freaking out n' all but....what do you expect me to do about it?” He threw his hands about wildly, at a complete loss. “Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,”

“I don't knowww....” Luz groaned. “I just....ugggghhh.” She buried her head in her hands, ruffling her hair into oblivion, like it would miraculously stimulate her brain cells into action. It released some pent up frustration, at least. “I wish it was easier for us to just talk about girls together.”

Hunter perked up. “Talk about girls? Are you kidding? Of course we can talk about girls, dummy!”

“Wait, really?” Luz asked, taken aback by this apparent development.

“Yeah, for sure. One sec,” Buzzing with eagerness, Hunter dove into his stacks of books, emerging seconds later with a worn, dust encrusted volume. It was so ancient, the title had faded away but Hunter still put his finger to where the big letters should be.

“Notable Female Witches of The Savage Ages,” He rattled off delightedly. “They were considered the mothers of Wild Magic. Their style of spell was really quite advanced, see they--”

Despite her frayed nerves, Luz sill managed a weak laugh.

As insufferable as he could be sometimes, she really did like this nerd a lot.

“Okay, Hunter. Buddy,” She said gently. “This stuff sounds really cool and I wanna hear all about it at some point buuuut....when I say girls, I mean...y'know. Amity specifically.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

Hunter's face fell with disappointment but he was quick to snap back into a look of cool indifference. He shut the book in his lap with a soft thump, set it aside and turned his full attention to Luz.

“Sooooo...” he began awkwardly, scratching at his ear. It could not be more obvious that Hunter wanted nothing to do with this discussion. But Luz appreciated that he was trying. “Girlfriend problems, huh? Shoot.”

Luz's cheeks darkened. “Heh. 'Girlfriend'. Yeah, that's...uh...” She was suddenly very inconvenienced by the existence of her own hands so she clasped them together tight to keep herself from fidgeting. “That is.....a word for Amity.”

Hunter frowned, puzzled. “Okaaaay? So, what's the issue?”

“Ohhhhhh, boy.” An ironic, long suffering smile stretched across her face. “Let me just tell you that there is a lot goin' on up here, pal.” Luz tapped her finger against her temple. “So if I'm gonna give you the full unabridged version--”

“You could summarize it.”

“You know I don't know how to do that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hunter sighed. “Figured it was worth a shot. Okay, let's hear it.”

“Alright but this is gonna be a lot so I suggest you strap yourself in,”

Luz sucked in a deep inhale, with full intent to let the entire flood of thoughts cascade out her mouth.

Hunter's eyes snapped to the floor, like he was actually looking for a safety harness to attach himself to. Then he seemed to realize that was ridiculous, as he scowled to himself. Little Rascal chirped and he irritably mumbled something under his breath in response.

And then Luz took off.

“Alright, so!” She announced, clapping her hands together. “So me and Amity have known each other fooooor...a while now? Yeah, it's been a while. And we've been pretty good friends ever since and then one day, she rescued me from her scary mom and she had this black flowing cape and her voice went all low and then suddenly, huh. Doki doki, y'know?” She thumped a fist against her chest. “I was gettin' all feelings-y up in here,”.

“And then a little later I figured out that we were both feeling kinda feelings-y and I was all like,” She mimed a brain explosion. “Pshww....”

“Pshww....” Hunter repeated quietly, testing out the little sound effect on his tongue. “Doki...doki....?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Doki doki. Pshww.” Luz nodded, as if he had made a valuable contribution. “So, now we're both here in the same boat, fully shish kebab-ed by Cupid's arrow.”

“Hold up. What language are you speaking?”

“And things are....great? Nice? Sorta hard to believe but stuff actually happens. We hold hands a few times, we...” The volume of her voice dropped to a bashful murmur. “we kiss a few times. There was so many beautiful, amazing romance-y moments that happened, just like in movies, y'know?”

“Movies....?” Hunter's bewildered stare turned from Luz to the bird on his shoulder, as if he was going to get any further clarification from either of them.

“Right! But here's the thing. It sorta feels like all that stuff just went by in a blur. I don't even know how I did any of that. The hand holding, the smooches the....ugh! It was like I was on autopilot or something and now I have no idea how to operate. Now, no matter how hard I try to get the vibe right, I can recreate those moments. So now it's starting to feel like...I don't know how to do anything!”

Luz's arms were whizzing around like an out of control windmill.

“I mean, Sure, Amity takes the lead sometimes but I can't make her carry this entire....relationship? Flirtationship? Whatever it is that's happening here! I gotta act or something! But I've been thinking about it waaaay too much. I never know the right time to hold her hand, I never know if she wants me to tell her she looks cute or if now maybe isn't the right time or...it's awkward, okay?! I've been making it awkward 'cause I don't know what to do! I-I don't even know for sure if we're dating! We've never talked about it!”

The last sentence came out as a squeak and Luz realized she had used up all her oxygen and needed to take a breather.

Hunter had not said a word but Luz did not know what to make of that dissecting stare of his, that studied her with a mixture of confusion and fascination. Like she was some kind of peculiar animal. A flushed, panting, peculiar animal.

“So.” He said finally, holding his palm out for Little Rascal to migrate from his shoulder to his hands. “Why don't you talk about it?”

He asked like it was the obvious solution. Luz was a little irked by it, but she kept her patience.

“Oh, Hunter. Sweet Hunter.” She heaved an exhausted sigh. “It is not that simple.”

He still didn't seem to understand. “Well, why not?”

“'Cause it's--.....Uh.” Luz trailed off, twirling her wrist around as if expecting to snatch an eloquent articulation out of thin air.

“Okay. Lemme put it like this. Amity is....really special. To me. Sometimes I still can't believe that she's real and she's friends with me and she likes me and....whew.” She pressed her fingertips to her cheek, surprised by the warmth. Even thinking that sort of stuff prompted a blush or two but it seemed saying it out loud made her face scalding.

“Anyway, now that we're going through....this, everything feels so much more....fragile?” Her voice rose in pitch, uncertain if 'Fragile' was even a suitable word to describe her feelings. It was just a vague, wishy-washy concept to describe.

“Like I feel like I could break it all so easy, just by....” Wait, she knew. She had figured out her handle on this.

“Just by being me.” She felt an ache just by admitting it, but it was the truth. Luz exhaled unsteadily to compose herself, clasping her fists tight into the fabric of her shorts and she continued...calmly.

“I can't risk doing anything that's gonna push her or make her uncomfortable or scare her away or...y'know, ruin this.” She held up her palms with a heavy shrug. “I-I don't have a plan and it would be way too reckless to wing it. Who knows what would come out of my mouth? She tells me a billion times that my weirdness is what she likes about me but...it can just as easily be the thing she hates if I overdo. I can't overdo it.

Luz was expecting Hunter to look at her like she was dumb again, but surprisingly, he nodded. A slow, thoughtful nod, as he absentmindedly scratched Little Rascal under the chin.

As the silence filled a little longer, she was starting to believe he had nothing else to add, which was fine. She had wanted to rant her heart out but realistically, she couldn't imagine Hunter having any advice for her. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise.

“Hey, Luz.” He said at last, voice surprisingly breezy. “You know those books that you really like? Uhh, with the nice witch Azuzu or whatever,”

“It's the Good Witch Azura!” Luz snapped, hands flying to her hips. “And I know you just pretended to not know her name. You're just trying to be cool.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The corner of Hunter's lip tweaked upwards. “And wasn't there that other witch that you liked to pretend was Azura's girlfriend?

Luz scoffed, finding it utterly unbelievable that this obnoxious little man had the audacity to be so dismissive towards her favorite book series, when she had been sweet enough to smuggle him in here.

“She was not her 'Girlfriend', she was her 'Soulmate' and if you even listened to me talk about it, you would know that. For your information, her name was Hecate and she began as Azura's rival but over the course of the series, they developed a beautiful, unbreakable bond that was jam packed with heavy romantic subtext. I mean, even their declaration of their eternal friendship in Book Five, which was really emotionally poignant by the way, reads so much like a love confession, it's a crime. And it's like...Ladies! Just kiss already!”

“Okay. Right. Sure. I understood some of that.”

“I mean, I guess I've read a ton of Heczura fanfics to tide me over. It's hard to find a fic where they don't kiss. Hold on, you know what fanfiction is, right?”

“Yeah.” The light in Hunter's eyes dimmed. “You made me sit through that three hour long slideshow presentation, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Luz popped a finger gun. “That was fun,”

It was fun, but a lot of work. Hunter was pouting over losing a measly three hours of his time. Well, newsflash, nerd, Luz spent two weeks working on that. Nobody is getting their hours back.

“And what usually happens in those fanfictions?” Asked Hunter, propping his chin up with his hand, as Little Rascal hopped over to a pile of books. “How do they end?”

“I told you, they kiss. A lot of the time they look deeply into each others eye and talk about how they complete each other like two halves of one heart. And y'know, moments of miscellaneous fluff.”

“Uh huh. Interesting,” He mused, tapping his pen against his bottom lip.

Luz knew Hunter could be a little...eccentric but was he really analyzing fanfiction right now? Where did the sudden interest come from?”

“So, uh, besides Azura and Hecate, are there any other...boats(?) that you--”

“Ships.” Luz corrected him.

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Right. Ships. Basically love stories that you really like.”

“We talkin' canon or non canon?”

Hunter squinted at her, lost. Seems somebody was not taking enough notes during the slideshow presentation. “Both? A-all...?”

“Oh, well, there's a bunch.”

Luz had no intention of listing every single ship that had captured her heart. They would be here all week.

“I've spent my whole life reading books, watching movies and anime and--”

“Anime...?”

“Hunter, please!” Luz squeaked as calmly as she possibly could, but she could not deny that she had started to vibrate. “You have no idea how excited you just made me at the thought of teaching you about anime but I'd need to dedicate a whole day to that 'cause I need to meet Amity soon and I'm still sorta in crisis mode. So, let's stay on topic.”

Her brow furrowed. “Whatever the heck the topic is! Why are we talking about ships, Huntifer?”

He waved off her question. “Okay but how does the story usually end for all your ships? The book ones, the anime ones, all of them,”

“We've been over this with the fanfiction discussion. They kiss, Hunter. Geez, you want a diagram or something?”

“But what else?” He prompted.

“What do you mean 'What else?'”

Now this was just getting ridiculous.

“They kiss!” Luz said with a huge amount of emphasis. “And again, miscellaneous fluff. They'll do stuff like pick each other up and swing around, hold hands and....walk off into the sunset, y'know?” She waved off all that extra padding as unimportant to the conversation. (Though Luz did really enjoy miscellaneous fluff.)

“Well yeaaaah,” Hunter was giving off vibes of a grade school teacher who gave her little nudges in the correct direction but ultimately wanted her to figure out the right answer herself. She wished he could just give it to her because honestly, she didn't know where this any of this was going.

“But when exactly do they ask each other if they're dating?”

“Whaa?” Well, that settled it. He had paid no attention to the slideshow whatsoever. “Nah, nah, they don't do stuff like that. They don't have to 'cause they're already perfect for each other. All they gotta do is look into each others' eyes and they just...” Luz shrugged, feeling lightness bubble in her chest at the very thought. She had a feeling her smile looked pretty dopey. “They just know.”

“Right. And why don't you and Amity just know?”

The bubbles burst and the lightness turned to dead weight.

The question speared through Luz's gut. Her entire body went rigid.

She had known but...

She had been trying not to...

Not to think about it.

Because if she thought about it, she knew she'd cry.

But there is was. A culmination of every coil of underlying dread that had been gradually writhing in her stomach in a monster of anxiety, summarized in a short and sweet collection of simplistic little words.

Luz did not just know when it came to Amity. She was constantly taking shots in the dark. That is, if she was even brave enough to take a shot at all.

The two of them together were not as seamlessly synchronized as couples in love were supposed to be.

Her throat stung.

Her vision went cloudy with blotted tears but she managed to catch Hunter's stony expression break into one of sheer panic.

“Wh-- Luz! Hey!” He yelped, scrambling to pick himself up from the floor. He nearly tripped over his books as he stood and hurried over to close the distance between them. He made to reach out to her but his hand stopped, just as it was about to brush against her shoulder. It hovered there for a moment, fingers curling and uncurling with uncertainty.

“Luz, listen, I wasn't....I-I mean, what I meant was...uhh. C-c'mon, cut it out!” Hunter's voice crackled with desperation and despite crying her eyes out, Luz felt the watery chuckle at the back of her throat.

“Aww, does crying make the Golden Guard uncomfy?” She tried to tease but her words came out all wobbly.

In fairness to the poor guy, it probably did. Luz couldn't imagine that dealing with tears in a delicate matter, was ever something he would need to handle in his line of work.

For all she knew, this was his first time having to comfort someone like this.

“You don't get to make jokes and cry at the same time. You gotta pick one.” Hunter snipped, but his tone was not nearly as cutting as usual. Luz was almost tempted to call it soft.

Clearing her eyes with the heel of her hands, she finally felt that warm touch on her shoulder, and then another rest against her upper arm.

Somehow the gentleness cracked all her remaining composure and she dissolved into ragged sobs.

Hunter did not speak nor did he let go out her until she got every tear out of her system. He waited patiently, tracing circles with his thumb into her skin.

Eventually, her sniffles fell silent and her eyes no longer blurred. She took a deep breath and the following exhale was shaky but manageable.

“Are you....good?” He asked cautiously.

Luz nodded.

Hunter removed his hands so carefully, you'd think doing so would cause her physical pain. He must have heard once that people were more prone to being hurt when they were already upset and assumed it was literal.

“Do you really think that...Amity and I....” Luz's voice was low and quiet but her jaw was set tight. She refused to let her words be whimpered. She looked up, meeting Hunter's eyes. “Aren't right for each other?”

“What? No! No, no, no,” Hunter looked positively alarmed at the accusation. “Luz th-that's not even remotely what I meant by that.”

“Well, then I guess you accidentally hit the nail on the head.” Luz managed a strained, bitter little smile. “'Cause it's true.”

“Luz, c'mon,” Hunter groaned, exasperated. “Don't talk like that, you've got it mixed up.”

“No.” Said Luz, tone quiet, polite yet strikingly obstinate. “You were right, Hunter.”

For someone who loved being right, he didn't seem thrilled at all.

“When it comes to Amity, I don't just know. I don't always know what she's thinking or what she wants from me. After all this time, I-I shouldn't still be trying to figure her out,”

Luz wanted to figure her out. Every time she was in her orbit, she wanted nothing more to turn over every last piece of that girl and find every hidden gem.

But now, it like she was barricaded. Something was keeping her from moving forward, from discovering Amity.

“I mean, we've kissed.” The memories of Amity were turning more and more bittersweet by the second “I told her I loved her! We had our happy ending already! A-at least I thought it was a happy ending. But we're not acting like people who are made for each other are meant to act!”

“How do you even know how people who are meant for each other are meant to act?!” Hunter demanded, as though it wouldn't reach Luz's skull unless he raised his voice. “In all the love stories you've read, it always ends with a kiss, doesn't it?”

“And--”

“And miscellaneous fluff. Yeah, I get it.” Hunter shooed the detail away before clearing his throat.

“Point is, they never talk about what comes after. You don't read about all those awkward talks where they decide if they're dating or not and talks about what they're okay with and what they're not. It always just cuts to the perfect, shiny romantic stuff, all tied up with a bow and because of that,” He clutched Luz by the shoulders.”You don't know how to move forward in a relationship 'cause you've never had a frame of reference to help you along.”

“Hey, that's not true!” She tore away from Hunter's grip. “I'll have you know that I imagine my favorite ships as couples all the time,”

“Yeah and lemme guess,” He droned, setting a hand on his hip and launching into a mockingly saccharine tone of voice. “They understand each other soooo well all the time, they can practically read each others' mind and everything is smooth sailing and peachy all the time.”

“Yeah, duh.” Luz didn't quite what he was making fun of. “That's what being a ship is all about.”

“Okay, fine, maybe, but I cannot stress this enough,” He ran his fingers through his hair before making a cutting gesture with the side of his hand, directed at Luz. “You are not a ship.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. I'm only one--”

“I mean that the two of you aren't a ship! Listen to me, you're not Azura and Hecate. You're Luz and Amity. You're real people. You've got like a million different emotions and they're messy and crazy and you don't understand most of them.”

“Okay, Hunter, I get it, I'm a hot mess. You don't have to rub it in.”

“We're all hot messes, Luz!” He exploded. “Every single one of us. 'Cause we're real and not book characters.” He was pacing back and forth now as he ranted and raved, gesticulating like a madman.

“We gotta handle all the awkward conversations that don't fit into books. You gotta talk to real people to get them and you can talk to them for years and years but you're never gonna entirely understand them. In your love stories, it's all kisses and happy endings and it's shiny and sparkly and perfect and nerds like you Eat. It.Up!”

Hunter emphasized his point by poking Luz's forehead, shocking a startled laugh out of her. As wound up as he was, the noise surprised him too.

Her laugh was contagious and soon the room was silent, expect for the sound of quiet, breathy giggles.

One of the knots in Luz's stomach had untangled itself. Hunter did make a point that she could understand. Yeah, okay, maybe she had been a little too wrapped up in fiction to successfully navigate through her own life. Luz had never been the most logical person so it was comforting for a levelheaded counter-argument to whatever was currently inflaming her anxiety.

Obviously, this didn't fix everything. Now, she understood why this wasn't easy but that didn't mean she magically knew where to go from here.

Once the shadow of Luz's smile had finally faded away, she looked up and studied Hunter for a long while. Her gaze may have been a bit intense as nervousness began to creep into his features.

“H-hey. Uh. Sorry if I was a little too--”

“Huntifer, I think you might be on to something with this one,”

He blinked at her before brightening with relief, shrugging it off. “Oh. Yeah, maybe. I dunno, I guess it's worth some thought.

Astonishing how Hunter could switch from the cockiest, most obnoxious kid in the Boiling Isles to a remarkably humble guy. Maybe it depended on context. Or he was just embarrassed that he sorta lost control of himself in his impatience.

Luz nodded. “I'd say a lot of thought. But..I think things are still gonna be awkward. With Amity. I still don't know how I'm supposed to talk this stuff through with her.”

Hunter snorted, loosely folding his arms over chest and resting his weight on one hip. And just like that, with that simple change of posture, he looked full of himself again “You wanna know a secret that's probably not much of a secret?”

He beckoned Luz to lean in closer and said in a stage whisper. “Amity probably doesn't know either.”

Huh. Yeah, Luz knew that. She knew that at the back of her mind but...she hadn't really thought about it much. She was a little too preoccupied with her own inexperience.

Hunter's lofty grin softened. “So, it's a good thing neither of you are doing it alone, right? Don't you think you could figure out how together?”

Figure out how together....

The realization sank from the surface of her mind, and everything was processing very fast then suddenly, everything clicked.

Amity.

Luz knew Amity. Luz trusted Amity. Luz loved Amity. If there was any person Luz believed would stumble alongside her through things they didn't quite understand yet, it was Amity. And it occurred to her that Luz would help Amity in return without hesitation.

With enough notches and trimming and smoothing edges, if they worked through this together, Luz and Amity could click too. Maybe not perfectly, not for a while just yet.

But enough that they could make each other happy.

A swing of confidence so strong flooded Luz's system, she swore she nearly collapsed. She felt the grin tugging at her mouth.

She could try. She could absolutely try. They could both try.

“Is...that a yes?” Hunter asked, gauging her expression.

Luz nodded so speedily, it made her head hurt. But then she realized something else and she turned a very specific look on Hunter.

But before he could ask if she was about to attack him, she held up two fingers on each hand and then placed them on either side of her head so they jutted out just behind her ears.

“Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,” Said Luz, in what she believed to be an uncanny imitation of Hunter's voice.

He frowned. “What are the theatrics for?”

“You lied to me!” Luz was delighted.

“I-I didn't lie!” He loudly objected, pointed ears scorching bright pink. “That was just common sense, you doofus. You know, that thing you lack.”

“You know, that thing you lack.” Luz parroted, swinging her hips from side to side. Once again, her impression remained flawless.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't do that!

“Stop, you weirdo!”

“Stop, you weirdo!”

At the peak of riled up, Hunter floundered for a retort that Luz wouldn't shoot back at him with childish mimicking. But then he cracked and wound up sticking his tongue out at her.

Luz simply mirrored him and Hunter huffed indignantly, turning on his heel and stomping back towards his books.

He had barely made a few steps when Luz lunged at him from behind, draping her long, lanky arms around his shoulders.

“Wha—Hey! Get off!” He squawked, struggling to pry her off him as Luz squished her cheek against his.

“Huntifer~” She singsonged. “Can you please calm down for two seconds and let me say thanks already?”

Hunter knotted his arms and his scowl didn't soften but Luz didn't miss how he stopped trying to squirm out of her grip.

“Even though you were kinda rambly and all over the place, what you said helped. It helped a lot. I know this is something I can handle and I know that 'cause of you. Thanks, nerd.”

She waited patiently until she felt his shoulders loosen. And then he glanced back at her and there was a smile. A small, tight, subtle smile but it was good enough for Luz.

And then with a burst of adrenaline, she gripped him tighter and planted a big, wet raspberry on his cheek.

Predictably, Hunter blew his top. He screeched furiously and his hands went wild to push her off but Luz was stronger than she looked. And so help her, she would give Hunter this affection or die trying.

Dying trying did not seem unlikely, actually. Hunter had told her once before that if he ever murdered her, it would probably be her own fault. Luz could not argue with that.

“That is so gross!” He griped, once Luz had finally released him.

“You're gross~” She chirped, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Hunter wiped the spit off his cheek with his palm before looking up at Luz with narrowed eyes

Luz did not have time to brace herself and suddenly she was tackled to the ground. She kicked and she screamed as Hunter dragged his disgusting wet hand across her face.

“GrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGroooooss!”

Hunter cackled maniacally the whole time.

They carried on like rowdy toddlers for a while until Luz had to go meet Amity, leaving Hunter and his palisman to themselves.

It was too weird to admit out loud but he was disappointed that she was gone. Hanging out with her like this wasn't that bad. Talking with her, arguing with her, wrestling with her. It all made Hunter feel....so much like a kid.

Something that he had realized recently was that he still liked being a kid.

In spite of the doom and gloom of white of gold, of the clawed scars in his shoulder, of the spear that grazed his hair, a spark of childishness remained in Hunter that had never been entirely snuffed out.

It wasn't until he met Luz that he began actively trying to keep that spark alive.

The sun had long since fallen asleep by the time Luz returned and the moon was pooling in the sky. A little after sun down, he heard the downstairs door slam shut and the loud exuberant voice of The Owl Lady boomed from the floorboards beneath him. By the sound of it, she was celebrating a successful day's work. Hunter wondered what she and the cute little demon had managed to steal today.

His snoozing palisman was tucked snug in the crook of his neck, a pleasant warmth against his skin. It was a good idea to keep the bird close. If someone other than Luz came barreling into the room, he'd better have his staff on hand to magically conceal himself.

But once an hour passed and the chatter of the witch and the demon below gradually faded into loud snoring, Hunter presumed they had passed out on the couch. For the time being, he should be fine.

Hunter hoped that creepy owl tube thing wouldn't rat them out. Fortunately, Luz had promised that Hooty was willing to take a bribe but unfortunately, gossip spread fast in the Boiling Isles. Now The Golden Guard had a reputation for being a lunatic who visited the night market several times, buying dead mice in bulk.

He snorted to himself, combing through 'From Bones to Fire: A Study of Wild Magic Volume 2'. Everything he went through just to get his hands on knowledge.

Well, also to be young with Luz.

Yet another hour passed and somehow, being surrounded by his own obsession, Hunter got a little overstimulated. To give his brain a rest, he was now flipping through some tattered old magazine that Luz brought with her from the human realm. Some of the articles were practically gibberish to him but overall, it was okay. He learned he was a Scorpio. He didn't know what that entailed but it sounded cool.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Luz burst into the room, announcing her return.

Startled, his palisman flew into a fluster, cheeping like crazy before it settled down atop his head. Hunter, meanwhile, had flung the magazine away so fast, it was like it had contaminated him, and snatched up the closest book to pretend he was reading it the whole time.

Thankfully, Luz didn't notice.

“Hey there, Little Rascal,” She cooed, prancing across the room and plopping down next to Hunter. “And hey, you little bookworm, you.”

“Bookworm?” Hunter knocked his shoulder against hers. “You looking for a fight, kid?”

“Whaaaat? Hunter, you wound me, I was just....Ohhh, my bad. I always forget that our bookworms and your bookworms are two waaaay different things.” She paused thoughtfully before shaking her head. “Actually, I don't retract anything. You look like a bookworm.”

“Yeah, well, you smell like a selkidomus.” Hunter smirked.

“Hey!” Luz bumped their shoulders. “Can you blame me? I've had one heck of a day with lots of nervous sweating!”

He was surprised that got him laughing but that tended to happen around her.

“So, how'd it go?” Hunter asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Luz's beam was as bright as a dozen of her light spells. The corner of her lip was twitching, as if she wanted to smile wider but it was physically impossible.

“We're dating.” She stated, no more than a whisper.

It obvious since the moment she entered the room, far bouncier and bubblier than usual but Hunter still grinned.

He had expected her to scream it from the rooftops, to grind his ribcage into powder with the force of her hug, to set off a riot of firework glyphs, spelling it out in lights.

No matter how she could have chosen to tell him, he would have been just as giddy as she was.

And yet, despite the lack of fanfare, somehow, it still felt so much like Luz. Though he knew that in the morning, she would tell the entire Boiling Isles, right here, right now, only Hunter knew. Something about that felt nice.

But the quiet serene scene was momentarily ruptured when Hunter spotted Luz re-adjusting herself out of the corner of his eye and he was immediately on high alert. Another raspberry, he could sense it.

“Luz, don't you d--”

It wasn't a raspberry.

The feather-light peck against his cheek was gone before he fully processed it, as Luz drew away with that big stupid smile still plastered on her face.

Hunter blinked away the surprise, looking to her with a raised eyebrow.

“What's that look for? In this family, we give each other hugs and kisses~”

He felt his lip quirk upwards as he scoffed, turning away with a shake of his head.

“That was so gross.”

“You're gross.”

“For real, it was even more gross than the raspberry.”

Luz burst into giggles and Hunter could understand why everything was suddenly a million times funnier to her. She will still fizzling with that giddiness that Amity had kissed into her and now it was all spilling out.

To be honest, listening to a teenage girl gush and squeal about her girlfriend did not seem like something Hunter would ever willingly subject himself to.

But this was Luz. His friend, Luz.

He lightly pinched the pudge of her cheek. “Heeeey. You wanna tell me all about it, don't you?”

Luz snapped her head over to gawk at him, astonished. And then the excitement took hold and her hands started flapping and she looked about ready to explode with delight. Her mouth was already flying open to give every solitary detail of her evening with Amity Blight.

But then she stopped, a crease forming on her brow. He caught that unreadable look she gave him and the way her eyes skimmed over the books that scattered the floor around them.

“Hmmm.” She stroked her chin with an over dramatic 'thinking' face. “Y'know what? I'll think I'll keep it all to myself.”

“Oh, really~?” Grinned Hunter. “I can only imagine all the romantic schmaltzy sickening stuff that occurred tonight. Miscellaneous fluff, right?”

Judging by the blood that stained her cheekbones, he must have been correct.

“Hey, Hunter.” She said quietly, resting her weight against his side. “You've been lost in your books for hours now. Would you mind telling me all about the most interesting you read about today? Reading myself is fine but it's way better to hear all about it from a bona fide nerd.”

Frankly, it was embarrassing how fast the giddiness practically electrocuted him and suddenly he found himself rambling. He rambled until his voice gave up but it didn't bother him at all because it was just Luz.

Luz hung on every word he said.

#the owl house #toh #luz nozeda #the golden guard #toh Hunter #lumity

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.06

Broken Hearts

09/20/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,012

Warnings: violence, blood, suggestive themes, language

A/N: I’ve been so excited for this chapter for so long. Probably just one or two more chapters after this. I hope you enjoy it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Ryan’s chuckle is infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him as he leans over to stoke the flames of your campfire.

It’s warm. Cozy by the roaring ocean waves that bring with it a cool briny breeze.

“Don’t laugh at me. It was very traumatizing.” Ryan demands, putting the large stick he’s been using to poke the fire aside before leaning back against new palm logs that he and Bucky had chopped for seating.

Even though you’re meant to sit on them, all of you seem to prefer to sit on blankets you’d stitched together from clothing too worn to use anymore.

“I feel bad for the shark. It has probably never seen a naked man before in its life and you’re out here dangling your bits all over its face.” You tease, shaking your head as if you really disapprove of him.

“Wha-?!” Ryan gasps, mouth wide open as he struggles to find a comeback.

“I was mindin’-” he takes a lengthy pause. “-mah own business-”

He places his hand on his chest as he pauses again, the wheels in his brain working quickly to come up with his excuse.

“-when this very large an’ scary fish comes out of the depths an’ charges me. I was the one scrambling ta get back ta shore. I was the one who was given a heart attack. Not the bloody shark!”

“Well, why were you swimming so far out?” You ask him, chuckling again and feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory of watching him run out of the water screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shark! Shark! Shark!” completely naked.

You’re not ashamed to say that there was nothing there that wasn’t worth looking at, but it was only an afterthought that you now think of as opposed to noticing in the moment.

You’d turned around instantly and gasped, completely confused as to why he was running towards you naked until you’d heard what he was saying.

“Should I start the fish?” Ryan asks, reaching for the folded leaves beside him where you’d put the cleaned fish when the sun had still been out.

It’s very obvious that Ryan isn’t answering your question.

Both you and Bucky have been watching him closely over the past month, since he’d first shown up completely wet, wondering where it is that he goes when he swims.

It wouldn’t make you so suspicious if he weren’t randomly disappearing when he takes these swims. He waits until you and Bucky are busy, distracted, then wanders off without a word.

Bucky has made you swear not to follow him, afraid of what Ryan might be capable of if he is up to something and is suddenly caught.

Problem is Bucky also refuses to leave you alone anymore, so he doesn’t get to tail Ryan either.

Until Ryan chooses to answer your question, neither of you will ever know where he goes.

“Sure.” You nod, then reach to place the metal sheet that Bucky had made for cooking food without having to deal with embers and ash on the fish.

Ryan separates each fish into one leaf on its own then places them on the thin sheet so that they might bake.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, sitting across the fire from each other, you steal glances at him, and he returns each look. He smiles, his expression kind and so trustworthy that you think in moments like these that you and Bucky might be wrong about him.

“Ryan?” You begin, hesitant.

He smiles to encourage you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He nods, smile vanishing as his face becomes a little more serious. Confused as to why you think you have to ask.

“Why don’t you talk about your son?” You wonder, now having said the words your mouth keeps going. “You drop this bomb and then never mention him again. I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t want to talk about him, so I never asked. If you’d prefer not to, I understand. There are things I’d rather not talk about to. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just—a kid is such a big part of who you are, right? Not the only part of you, obviously but he’s your son. You must think about him all the time.

“Who did you leave him with? He must miss you so much. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck here, with us, instead of home with your boy.” You sigh, and your breath shudders.

You smile at him awkwardly, realizing you’ve rambled on nervously.

“Sorry.” You offer, “I kinda just go off when I’m nervous.”

Ryan’s face is the picture of relaxation, however. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look upset that you’ve asked.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and you’re certain that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it, but then… “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure that you or Bucky cared to know about Conor.”

“His name is Conor?” You gasp, smiling already like an idiot as you start to imagine a mini version of Ryan. Sandy blonde hair, lovely eyes, light skin.

“Aye, wee tyke is only five but when he talks to you, he sounds much older.” Finally, he smiles, the admiration of a father pouring out of him as he thinks about his little boy.

“Does he look like you or his mother?” You wonder, eager for details now that he’s talking.

“He looks like his mother. Almost my exact opposite. Dark hair and skin. Perhaps a bit lighter than his mother but he’s her spittin’ image. Dark eyes too. Just as beautiful.” Ryan says, a bit more forlorn than before.

Your own smile falters, wondering if maybe he and Conor’s mother are no longer together? Jeez, you really hope that he isn’t still married and flirting with you the way he has been. Not that you blame him being stuck on an island with no other women, but still.

Ryan seems like the type of man to devote himself completely.

“Is she-?” You offer, just to see if he’d like to open up.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a long moment before he tilts his head a little as he makes his choice quickly.

“Grace died. Just after giving birth to Conor. Conor almost went with her, but he pulled through and we have made a go of it, I think.” He gives you another smile. “I think he’s happy. Or was, before all this.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sure Conor loves and appreciates you very much.” His story is tragic, and your heart truly breaks for him.

“Thank you. Gettin’ back to him is the only thing that matters now.” He nods, looking more at ease. “It feels good to talk about them if I’m honest. I havin’ really spoken about it ta anyone other than mah parents. That’s who Conor is with, by the way. You were wonderin’ earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. About anything.” You assure him.

His smile grows wider and any sorrow left in his eyes vanishes as he looks down at the cooking fish before giving his head a minute shake.

“What?” You ask, your own voice shaking with the hint of laughter at the amused expression on his face.

“I was just thinkin’ about how unfortunate it is that you’re taken now. You would have made him a proper step-mom maybe.” His bold words stun you.

At a loss for what to say, you can only seem to focus on the way your neck begins to burn.

Ryan clearly enjoys watching you squirm for the two second that he has to do so before Bucky’s voice breaks the tension.

“Keep that up and you’ll lose your room.” Bucky warns, a playful note in his voice but really you can hear how serious he is.

“I just got it.” Ryan protests, looking towards the hut down the beach.

Bucky worked so hard on the build, elevated and sturdy with each brick placed with care and somewhat expert precision. The gambrel roof, which Bucky chose so that you could use the extra space to hang clothes and food away from where animals might find them, is tall and thatched with the fronds you’d worked so hard to tear and resew to keep the hut safe from the elements.

The hut is split in two down the center with two entrances. When you face the hut, the left side of it is taken by Ryan, a flight of bamboo stairs leading up to the curtained entrance. The right side belongs to you and Bucky.

“Stop flirting with my girl then, and I’ll let you keep it.” Bucky threatens, this time it’s clear he means it.

Ryan holds up his hands in defeat as you turn to devour you freshly bathed Bucky. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looks almost as if he’s ready to begin his day but instead of being productive he drops his dirty clothes into the handmade basket you’d woven with the extra strips of palm fronds then moves towards you. He takes hold of your face, tilting it back so that you might look up at him.

He leans down to look at you, smiling pleasantly.

“Hi.” He tells you, voice deep and penetrating.

“Hi.” You reply. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down and kisses you, lips so sweet and fresh you could really just do this all night. He holds it for a few moments before he begins pushing you to scoot forward.

You move as he wants you to, looking back at him as he sits himself behind you, legs spread wide before he pulls you back to sit between his legs which he props up on either side of you. His arms wrap around your stomach and while your happiness quadruples with this unyielding affection he seems to shower on you lately, you can’t help but notice the way Ryan looks away, a small twinge of bitterness in his expression.

It’s just the island. You tell yourself, certain that if you all weren’t stuck here, you wouldn’t be so lucky as to hold the attention of two very beautiful men.

Although you’re certain, you can’t help but wonder if Ryan really does like you. Is it possible?

~~~~~~~~~~

Time doesn’t stop. Not for you stuck on this island. Not for Bucky, torn from the promise of a new life. Not for Ryan who misses his son and is losing more and more time with him. With time is taken all hope that you’ll ever be rescued but the three of you refuse to speak the words aloud.

In silence, there is the illusion of hope and you cannot afford to let it go.

Days roll into weeks and the three of you try to keep your spirits up. It’s easier for you and Bucky, you assume. Finally, being with him has changed very little and so much all at once.

The biggest change is your sleeping arrangements. The hut has been built for a while now. Two months it feels like, going on three. Six months going on seven since you three have been trapped here.

With the hut came privacy, the adobe wall that splits it in two gives you and Bucky the luxury of cuddling as you used to in the fuselage without the worries of being accidentally disturbed.

Because of this, in the morning Bucky’s warm kisses trail along your cheeks, your neck, onto your collarbone raising tingles in all the right places before he finds his way up to your lips.

His arms wrap themselves around you as hey lays himself over you and you raise your leg to hold him close.

“Good morning.” He whispers and your eyes open, devouring the beautiful image of him. Clean and dry. Not a drop of sweat on his perfect skin whereas your own is dewy and you’re in need of a morning swim.

“Good morning.” You whisper, your body burning for him.

It doesn’t help that you can feel him pressed against your thighs, stiff and awake with the morning.

With your lips suddenly dry, you run your tongue along them, wetting them as your breath hitches when he rolls his hips from side to side as he adjusts himself over you.

You know that he doesn’t mean it to make your blood boil, but it does and you snake your hands down to his waist before your fingers worm their way underneath his t-shirt and gently tickle his smooth skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, a smile in his voice as he raises an eyebrow but hold you closer.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, licking your lips again.

He huffs a laugh, cool air raising goosebumps along your neck.

“I think you know.” He counters, amused by your attempt to seduce him.

“Then why ask?” You reach down, sliding your hand down underneath the waistband of his underwear, breath catching in your throat at the swell of his bum.

“Y/N,” He pleads, a small hint of a chastising tone to his words. “We can’t.”

“But I want to.” You whimper, tired of begging. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together. For what feels like forever now.

“So, do I, kitten. Trust me.” He wiggles his hips, probably just trying to get comfortable but he inadvertently eggs you on, proves his point by pressing his erection against you—accidentally of course.

“Then…” You try it even though you know he’ll say no. Even though this argument has failed so many times. “…I can just-I’ll give you something and you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“I could never do that.” He argues, his face contorting a bit more. The hints of anger rising.

“Then we can just stop there, Bucky. We’ve got control, don’t we? I wanna suck your co-”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Bucky rolls off of you, sitting at the edge of the low bed with his elbows on his knees as he looks across the hut to the opposite wall, his breathing a little heavy.

You sit up, blinking away the tears of rejection because you know he doesn’t mean it in that way. You know what his worry is because it’s you’re worry too.

“I’m sorry.” You move up behind him, hugging him around his chest and resting your cheek against his solid back.

The rapid rate of his heart tells you how much he wants you even if he can’t see to let himself show it. You take solace in that as you splay your hands on his chest, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil you’d infused into the handmade soap you’d worked on several weeks ago.

“I…you know that we can’t.” He frets, still upset.

“I do.” You shake your head. “I’m just-”

He hears the sob trapped in your throat and he turns so quickly you nearly fall over but he’s there, holding you tight against his chest, hands caressing the back of your head as the other wraps around your shoulders.

“I want you, kitten. Believe me. I do. If I could be sure that we wouldn’t mess up…You were the one that set this boundary.” He reminds you, pulling back to look at you as shame overcomes you.

He’s right of course. You’d told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him until the two of you could be sure that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Not here. Not on this island. There was too much that could go wrong. Too much danger for a baby, not to mention birthing one here with no doctors in case something went wrong.

No, you couldn’t do it and so you’d both agreed.

But…

“I didn’t think we’d still be here.” You huff, burying your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Bucky breathes a little more lightly, almost laughing again at the shift. This conversation has gone from up to down and right back up.

“I know, babe.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head as he strokes your back with both hands. “To be honest, my patience is also wearing thin.”

You pull back quickly, searching to get a look at his eyes to see if he might be lying. He isn’t and it does make you feel better that you aren’t the only one struggling with this abstinence.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to wait.” He confesses.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “But you already knew that.”

His face breaks into a smile and you’re calm again, happy to see that beautiful expression on his handsome face. Silver blue eyes all crinkled at the corners.

You reach up to touch his hair, giving it a decent appraisal. “You need another cut.”

“I think we should go shorter this time.” He nods.

“Like a little higher than your chin?” You touch the spot, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I mean, short.”

You gasp. “Bucky, I don’t think I trust myself to do that.”

“I trust you.” He counters but you shake your head.

Nope. You’re not going to risk butchering his lovely locks.

“I won’t do it, Barnes.” You frown.

“Stubborn ass.” He glowers.

“Fuck you.” You retort.

“Not yet.” He teases.

“I hate you!” You spit at him, because you can already see the laugh coming at that unfair statement and you shove away from him, moving towards the clothes you’ve got packed in one of the salvaged suitcases to pull out your favorite pair of jean shorts and a plain red t-shirt.

He’s laughing as you dress and doesn’t stop when you’re gone.

Making your way down to the campfire, you search for Ryan, half expecting to find him cooking fish for breakfast but he’s nowhere to be found.

As Bucky joins you, dressed in the same t-shirt with his own favorite pair of jeans on, you place your hands on your hips and look towards the stretch of water where the cockpit had once been visible.

It seems to have sunk to the floor now that the tide has risen and fallen so many times, taking the plane with it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky wonders, lifting his foot onto the trough he’s been mixing more clay in again, working on something secret that he refuses to let you in on just yet.

“I’ll tell you when it’s relevant. Right now, it’s just a precaution. Trust me, okay? If I need to bring it up, I will.” Then he’d gone back to lining the outside of the hut with metal sheets from the plane before sealing them over with clay.

He laces up his boot but watches you as he works.

“He’s gone again.” You shake your head.

“He hasn’t tried anything.” Bucky ponders. “If he was going to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“I know, it’s just…” You bite your lip.

“He is hiding something.” Bucky agrees, this conversation having played out so many times. “But I think he also wants some distance from us. We’re probably annoying to be around.”

“We’re not that bad anymore.” You argue.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky whispers, his lips suddenly at your ear.

He kisses it, slipping your lobe into his mouth as your eyes shut to the pleasure the gesture raises.

“You’re not making this any easier.” You sigh but turn to look at him and without hesitation pull him down to meet your lips with his own.

The kiss is a frenzy, heated and eager as your hands grope and cling as Bucky’s also press and pull against the flesh of your hips and ass leaving burning bruises behind.

Out here where you might get caught is the safest place to be this affectionate. Where you can’t take this any further than this passionate kiss.

“Do ya really have ta do that so early in the mornin’?” Ryan’s voice cuts in, interrupting just as you both intend.

Bucky pulls away first, letting the smack of your kiss echo before giving you one devilish grin then marching back to the trough.

“Sorry.” You turn to Ryan, hoping your expression is rightly chastised. “Fish?”

Ryan holds it up to indicate his catch then moves towards you to hand it over for cleaning.

You settle down beside him on your usual stump, pulling out your makeshift knives and gut the fish with the precision of someone who’s done this everyday for half a year. Ryan gets to building a new fire, gathering as much of the ash for you as he can for when you decide to make more soap.

While you work, you watch him, stealing glances at the subtle downturn to the corners of his lips.

The longer he works the more he seems to wallow.

Once the fish is settled over the fire, you turn in your spot to focus your attention on him.

“What?”

Slightly startled, he turns to you with wide eyes, all traces of the depression he’s been in gone.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“What’s the matter with you?” You clarify.

“Oh.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You know you can guess. “Conor?”

“Aye, Conor.” The sadness returns to his face and your heart gives a painful lurch for him.

He must miss his son so much.

“He’s probably startin’ school this month.” He laments, stoking the fire.

“It’s his first year?”

“Aye, I hope he isn’t scared.” Ryan hopes.

“I’m sure he’s just as brave as his dad.” You offer in comfort, giving Ryan as kind a smile as you can muster.

“We’ll get off this island, Ryan. Someone will come. Even if it’s by accident. Even if it’s years from now. You’ll be with Conor again.” You hope, because even though you want it to be a promise, you don’t know.

Ryan’s face contorts, agony ripping through him for one quick second before he meets your gaze and reaches out to take hold of your hand.

“I think…” Bucky begins from the trough, Ryan’s hand freezing mere inches from your own.

He takes it back and clears his throat, the look of pain vanishing from his handsome face before he looks to Bucky just as you do.

Bucky’s gaze is focused on the horizon, the ocean waves unnaturally gentle. It’s a beautiful day.

“What is it babe?” You call, trying to pull Bucky out of his thoughts.

He turns his furrowed brow back to the two of you, “I think we might have to move to the cave. Soon.”

“The cave?” You rise, glancing at the fish to make sure they’re not burning. “The one Ryan was in when he landed?”

Ryan sits back, a perplexed gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Yeah. Do you think you can show me where it is?”

“Why would ya need to go there?” Ryan reaches out to stoke the fire once again, pulling his gaze away from you both.

“Bucky?” You worry, moving towards him as he straightens up and wipes his hands clean to take your hand as you reach him.

“We won’t need to go there yet.” He assures you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist to pull you into his side. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution against what?”

“It’s hurricane season. The hut is…I’m not exactly an architect. I’ve done what I can with what we have but that hut is not meant to withstand a hurricane. When it comes down to it, we might be able to take shelter in the fuselage if we have to but with the three of us, the cave might be a better option. How did you hold up in the caves during that first storm?” Bucky gestures to Ryan.

Ryan spares you both a glance before nodding. “There was minor flooding at the back jus’ before the exit by the jungle but otherwise it was dry and safe. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Then you’ll show me where it is?” Bucky insists.

“It’s not hard ta find, but sure. Tomorrow morning?” Ryan turns to him.

Bucky nods leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

The memory of that initial hurricane just after you’d crash landed here fills you with worry. What if you do have to go through another one and this one is worse? How likely is it that you’d die from a storm before you get rescued?

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep you safe.” Bucky whispers, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand where there is no clay.

“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder so much.”

“Taking care of you is never too much.” Bucky smiles. “I kinda look forward to it actually.”

“Why?” You wonder, absolutely confused.

“Because I do. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You’re never getting rid of me.” He teases.

“Even when we’re rescued?” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Especially when we’re rescued.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you once, then starts to lean down towards you for a kiss.

“I’m going for a swim.” Ryan announces, breaking the little bubble you and Bucky are in.

Without ceremony, Ryan moves straight for water headed towards the crash site without even feigning a different direction.

This draws both yours and Bucky’s attention as both of you are well aware that Ryan has still been swimming out to the cabin, but he’s taken such great care to go at it in roundabout ways. While strange, you guess that he must be more upset about Conor than even you could tell.

Your mind replays the agonized look he’d given you before when you’d promised him that rescue would be coming. Maybe he could tell that it was only your hope?

“He misses Conor. He should be starting school soon.” You explain.

“Mm.” Bucky nods, accepting your explanation.

“If there were any photos, he would have found them already, wouldn’t he?” You wonder, curious to no end about your new friend.

Sure, you have suspicions, but after so much time spent with him, you’ve both accepted him as a part of your life here. Ryan has your trust. And though you know it was given reluctantly, Bucky’s too.

“Maybe he just can’t bear to give up. I know I wouldn’t.” Bucky looks down at you, giving you a squeeze.

“If you had a son?” You ask.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Bucky stuns you, pulling you to look at him with his words to see how serious he might be about it. “With you. When the time is right.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is reeling. Bucky wants to have kids with you?

“You promise?” You gasp, so shocked your voice is mostly air.

“I love you.”

You smile, loving the words that spill from his lips.

“You do?”

Bucky smiles then chuckles, reaching up to squeeze the back of your neck, and you know that he’s telling you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You smell good.” Bucky sighs, holding the blanket open for you as you take off your shoes and slip into the bed and nestle into Bucky’s arms. “Good bath?”

You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’s been working so hard to fortify the hut for smaller storms that might hit.

“Yes.” You hug him, cuddling in against his side as he drapes the blanket over you.

“You’re wearing your shorts?” He checks, and he’s right.

You’ve chosen to sleep in your second set of shorts, dark gray cloth instead of jeans and your tattered blue floral dress.

Because you don’t answer, Bucky adjusts to look down at you, forcing himself awake.

“Kitten?”

“I’m just…I want to be ready if we need to go short notice.” You confess, shutting your eyes and refusing to look at him. You don’t want him to see the fear.

“Ready for what?”

“Anything. Hurricanes.” You admit and wish you could throw away this fear.

You’re almost expecting Bucky to chastise you for your worrying but instead he settles into the plane cushion bed again and cuddles you closer.

“That’s smart.” He approves. “But we won’t have anywhere to run until tomorrow morning. Ryan has to show us the cave first.”

“Can I come?” You’re already drifting off, voice weak and slurring.

Bucky’s is the same, both of you exhausted from the day’s work.

“You kidding? I’m not letting you outta my sight.” He mumbles, his breathing getting heavier.

You almost smile but sleep takes you and your mind is overcome with dreams of thunderous clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Bucky isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He can feel you stirring to the sound in his arms and he tries to hold you tighter.

You were so scared before, the look of terror in your eyes at the prospect of being caught in a storm worse than the one you weathered before.

He wants to make sure you feel safe and secure with him. He’ll protect you from weather and predator, whether that’s animal or stupid fucking Ryan.

You tug away from him hard though and the sound…a humming…no, a loud thumping. It’s hard to place as he tries to both understand the sound and also figure out why you’re no longer lying beside him.

“Y/N?” He searches, sleepily pushing himself onto one elbow as he hears you bolt for the door.

Suddenly he’s wide awake and he can hear you rounding the hut to the other set of stairs on the other side.

He pulls his boots on quickly, sliding his feet in and lacing them with nimble fingers loosely.

“He’s gone!” You cry out, the pure panic in your voice as the sound overhead suddenly makes sense to Bucky.

A helicopter! It thuds loudly, motor whirring and buzzing and blowing sand everywhere while whipping trees back and forth.

Bucky springs form the hut and sees you already racing towards the trees where you can see the chopper headed.

He passes you quickly, easily. But he doesn’t stop because he knows that you would never forgive him.

Bucky runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, barreling through dense jungle but never once missing a step.

The branches of certain trees scrape at his skin and slap his face, but he doesn’t relent in his pursuit.

It takes minutes for him to reach a small field of tall grass. It’s sways violently in the chopper’s wind and at the center of this field is Ryan.

Bucky stops, taking in the sight as a blinding spotlight shines on Ryan first then quickly swings towards him.

Ryan follows the beam and when he sees Bucky take a step towards him, he reaches down to his hip where a holster suddenly sits. He pulls a gun, a 9mm Beretta from what Bucky can tell, and stops his advance.

“Stop!” Ryan orders, his voice tight and commanding.

As the chopper descends a little more to hover at fifty feet, a steel wire ladder falls down towards Ryan as Bucky begins to notice the metal case in his other arm.

“What’s in there?” Bucky asks, staying as still as he can until he might have a chance to pounce.

“The other black box.” Ryan says simply, his voice softer but defiant. “Parts of it.”

Bucky’s glare is piercing and if Ryan didn’t have that gun, he would probably have already fled.

“I had to…” Ryan begins, still combative in tone but Bucky realizes that the anger in it is not directed at him. “They have me by the balls, mate. When Grace died, Conor would have followed, but they found me, and they offered to save his life. That is a debt I can never repay.”

Bucky’s fists tighten, anger bubbling up to choke him so that he cannot speak. These schemes, it has to be Hydra. No one else would want him dead.

“Who’s they?” He forces himself to ask, just to make sure.

It could be the U.S. Government too if he’s being completely honest. They could very well want him out of the way.

“I don’t know. People.” Ryan throws out, and Bucky believes that he doesn’t know. “All I know is they wanted you out of the way. If I had known that she…I didn’t know that she would be there. I didn’t know that they would die.”

Ryan’s voice grows thick and he shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts his guilt have conjured up.

“If I don’t finish the job, they’ll kill mah boy.” He holds the gun steadier, catching his breath before he makes his face as stoic as possible. “This is all I can give her. I can’t save her, but I can at least do this much. I can give her you. They’ll think you’re dead. I’ll make sure.”

Bucky sees it now. The real emotions behind his eyes. Ryan does love you. He’s certain of it now. He also understands what he’s saying and leans forward, angling himself so that when Ryan shoots, the bullet will hit his shoulder. Too high to be his chest and endanger his lungs or heart.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Ryan pleads, and squeezes the trigger.

Bucky’s mind races with possibilities. Ryan might miss. He could hit him where he will not recover and then you’d be left here alone on this island. You’d hate him for not fighting and hate Ryan for killing him. He could bleed out and Bucky can’t imagine you here without him.

The bullet pierces him just where he’d hoped and falls to the ground with a heavy thud and goes as still as he can possibly can.

He holds his breath, pushing through the pain that burns from his right shoulder, and hoping that the chopper will leave quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping with a stitch in your side and your legs made of jelly, you break through the trees onto a field you’ve passed a few times here on the island but avoided in case of snakes.

The sight before freezes you. Ryan shoots. Bucky falls.

Ryan turns to a wire ladder and begins to climb, and you race to Bucky, sobs already shaking your body.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp. “Please. Please, don’t be dead.”

As you reach him, you turn him over, and see that his eyes are wide open, reading your heartbroken expression as he remains unmoving while you press your hands against his wound.

You continue to sob, turning your eyes to the chopper overhead as it pulls away and takes with it all hope of your rescue.

As it fades into the distance, Bucky pulls himself up a bit, sitting up and pressing his much larger hand against the bullet hole on the front while you fuss with the exit wound in the back.

“W-We need to s-stitch you up.” You cry, voice low and controlled despite the sobs still ripping through your throat.

Without hesitation you reach down and tear away at your dress reducing its length even further, now just barely reaching your hips. You wrap it around the wound as best you can, slapping Bucky’s hand away to shove more fabric over it and then place his hand back over the spot.

“I’m alright, kitten.” Bucky tells you, voice strong and certain.

“Like fuck-all you are.” You sob, fisting the front of his shirt as you refuse to look back to where you can still hear the chopper’s sounds, fading. “H-He shot you.”

Bucky strokes the side of your face with his metal hand, directing your gaze up so that you can look at him.

As you meet his steel and ice eyes, full of warmth and reassurance, you fall to pieces as you realize that Ryan has betrayed you. All your suspicions, as unlikely as you’d thought them, were true.

Bucky metal arm pulls you closer, his lips pressed to your crown as you sob against his chest, knowing now that you will never leave this place. You and Bucky will live and die on this island and no one will ever know you were here.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #castaway au #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky x reader fic #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a world of our own #awooo #a world of our own pt06 #desert island au #stranded au #bucky x reader romance

[mirrorscomic]

MIRRORS: CHAPTER 7

Summary: In Mainverse, the appearance of the pair from Villainverse has apparently caught the attention of the gods. Will this attention be a good thing, or perhaps be a problem?

Author Notes: i'm back finally with another chapter! this is a special chapter that marks the beginning of the original mirrorsverse context; this is no longer taking place in the dragon ball universe! some changes have been made to the story and characters, such as names and designs, as well as an art style shift! i hope you enjoy the changes ive made! <3

Another day passes in the Land of Creation--the realm where the Gods of Creation reside. Here, a creator god sits by herself in a field, seeming concentrated on one area of the sky. A figure creeps up quietly behind her, not making a sound…

“So, what is the North Creator up to today, then?”

She’s startled, but her body relaxes when she realizes who has joined her, and she lets out an annoyed sigh. “Oro, don’t you have better things to do than bother me? Go back and watch over the South Quadrant like you’re supposed to. I have bigger things to worry about over here.”

“Oh?” The other creator god, Oro, looks out to try and see what she is looking at. “Like what?”

“A lemurian living on Earth. His counterpart from a parallel universe somehow hopped through the cosmos with a wormhole and came to stay with him for a few days. I’m keeping an eye on him for now to make sure he doesn’t try doing the same thing.”

“A lemurian?” Oro seems interested. He squints, focusing where she is concentrated on. His vision flies through the galaxy, zooming in on one particular spot of planet Earth, where a lemurian farmer and his mother are seeming to practice. It’s Patoto and Zumeg, and Zumeg is encouraging her son.

“Come on, Patoto, you can do it! Dig deeper!”

“I’m trying…!” Patoto says as he seems to be straining himself to power up. In an abrupt blast of power, he achieves Super Lemurian--something he’s used to--but this time, he’s trying to reach a higher level.

The sight amazes Oro, and he widens his eyes. “What in the world is that?”

The other god doesn’t look from her spot. “It’s called Super Lemurian. Their race can achieve transformations like that to grow more powerful. There’s also a Super Lemurian Two, which is what I assume this lemurian is trying to reach. There may even be a third level.”

Oro watches in awe. “Such power…”

...should be used by a god.

He stands up straight and waves his hand as he turns to leave. “Well, you have fun with that. I’ll be off back to my own business.”

The other god frowns a little. “It’s about time.”

As Oro walks away, he glances over his shoulder with a rather devious expression.

Back on Earth, Patoto leans over onto his knees, obviously winded from all the exertion. “Phew… I think I’m gettin’ closer!”

Zumeg smiles and walks over to pat his back. “I think you are, too. Your energy seems a lot more intense now than it was before.” She walks by him, then. “I’ll go get us some drinks. You deserve a break. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay!”

As Zumeg disappears into the house, Patoto is left to stretch happily. However, almost immediately, his body transforms into that of the creation god, Oro. He’s confused by his new, smaller appearance, looking down at himself. “H-huh? What the--?”

“This is a very interesting planet you have here.”

Patoto looks over to where the voice came from. There floating in the air is what looks to be himself, wearing strange new clothes and earrings. Patoto is even more confused than he was before. “H-hey… That’s my face!”

His copy grins wickedly. “Finders, keepers, I guess. Hm…” He looks over Patoto’s clothes, seeming to inspect them for a moment before waving his hand over his own body. His wardrobe changes to that of Patoto’s suddenly, except this version is all black. He grins and holds out his hands to his sides. “Blends in a little better, don’t you think?”

Just as this happens, Zumeg returns from the house with two drinks. She stops in her tracks when she sees the scene playing out before her, furrowing her brow. “What in the world?”

Patoto looks back at her. “Mom!!” He quickly makes his way over to his mother and points at the false Patoto. “Mom, this stranger stole my body…!”

She looks at him confusedly. “What…?”

“Please believe me!” Patoto urges. “I’m Patoto! That guy over there isn’t me; he stole my face!”

Zumeg looks back at the apparent copycat. He has a sick smirk on his lips, which causes her to frown. “... I believe you. My son would never look at me like that.”

Setting the drinks down, she walks away from the real Patoto and glares at the newcomer. “Who the hell are you? What do you want with my son?”

The fake Patoto sticks up his nose with a grin. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t know me. I am Oro, one of the five Creators of your universe.”

“Creators? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand. To put it simply, I am a god of your world.”

Patoto looks at his hands. “A...god? Y’mean I have a god’s body right now?”

“Yes. But, I don’t expect you to know how to use it, heh.”

Zumeg chimes in. “What would a god want with my son, then?”

Oro folds his arms behind his back, looking around at the scenery. “I was watching you all from my world and I saw something amazing. You transformed and became much more powerful than you were before. I saw this power and realized that it was much more suitable for a god than it was a measly mortal. So, I wanted to try it out for myself.”

“So, you stole my son’s body?” “Borrowed without asking.” Oro raises a hand and charges up an energy ball with it. “I wanted to play around with it for a while.”

Realizing what’s about to happen, Zumeg dives back towards Patoto and tackles him out of the way just before a ball of energy hits the ground where he stood. Once they’re safe, she turns back and snarls at Oro. “Hey!!”

Oro doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. He’s looking at his hand, mesmerized. “Amazing… Even at base strength, the power is incredible. Now, for that transformation…”

Zumeg and Patoto watch as Oro channels his energy through his body, yelling as he does so. In a sudden burst, his hair turns blonde and his eyes go crimson, completing the transformation to Super Lemurian. He looks back at his hands, smiling. “Amazing…! I’m overflowing with immense power! This transformation is outstanding!”

Zumeg starts walking towards him. “Alright, you’ve had your fun! Give my son back his body!”

She charges at him with a punch, but he blocks it easily with his finger. In response, she begins to throw a flurry of punches, but he blocks all of them with a finger as well, almost taunting her. With a smirk, he suddenly whaps her away with his tail, and she goes flying.

Patoto is watching from the ground in dismay when he’s suddenly joined by another person seemingly out of thin air. He turns to look at them--a woman with pink skin and white hair, similar in appearance to his current body. “W-who are you?”

She turns to look at him. “I am Enlil, a God of Creation. I’m the Creator in charge of your universe quadrant. I’m here to stop Oro from causing more trouble than he already has.”

Patoto blinks. “You’re a god, too?”

Behind them, Kinpa and Evelyn come hurrying out of the house, apparently having heard the ruckus outside. Evelyn looks at the two standing in front of the porch. “What’s goin’ on out here?”

She notices Zumeg and Oro in the sky as they fight. “What in the world are they doin’ up there?”

“Your son’s body has been stolen by a god who thinks he can just do whatever he wants,” replies Enlil. She gestures towards the real Patoto beside her. “This is your Patoto.”

Patoto’s eyes start to tear up. “Mama…”

As he rushes over and hugs her, Evelyn looks startled. “P-Patoto…?”

Kinpa looks from Patoto up to the dueling lemurians. “So… That’s not Patoto? That’s a god in Patoto’s body? How did he switch bodies like that?”

“He used objects called the wishing stones on a planet called Phibia to wish it that way,” Enlil explains. “Unfortunately, those wishing stones can only be used once a year. I have to find a way to keep him at bay until they can be used again.”

Kinpa thinks for a moment. “Wishing stones…? Hey, don’t we have those on Earth? I remember an icejin talking about them.”

Enlil looks over at him in surprise. “Really?” She proceeds to close her eyes for a moment in silence, and she then opens them again. “You’re right! How did I not see them before? There’s a phibian on this planet who has a set.” She turns to Kinpa and holds out her hand. “Come with me. I need someone with me in case something goes wrong.”

Kinpa looks at her hand before hesitantly taking it. “U-um… Okay.”

In an instant, the two teleport away, leaving Evelyn there with Patoto. The next thing they know, they’ve arrived at what seems to be a campsite in the middle of a forest somewhere. As they look around, someone opens the door to the little hut that is sitting in front of them.

A green-skinned individual, the phibian in question, comes out and blinks. “Oh! Can I help you?”

Enlil steps forward. “We don't have much time to explain, but we need to use your wishing stones. There’s a crisis that could eventually endanger the whole world if we don’t stop it right now.”

The phibian looks them over. It doesn’t take long for him to nod in approval. “Okay. I can tell your intentions are good. Let me get them for you.” He starts to disappear into his hut, but he looks over his shoulder first. “Name’s Kigai, by the way! It’s nice to meet you. Now, give me one second…”

--

Back on the farm, Zumeg and Oro continue their fight as Evelyn and Patoto watch in concern. Zumeg is getting beaten back pretty good by Oro, who hasn’t even broken a sweat. The god dodges elegantly away from every punch.

“This was fun for a while,” he muses, “but now it’s starting to get annoying. You’re persistent; I’ll give you that. But…”

He points two fingers at her before firing a laser beam through her chest. She falls to the ground lifelessly as Evelyn and Patoto watch in shock.

“You should know never to cross a god.”

--

“How do we summon the dragon?”

Kigai looks at Enlil after finishing arranging the wishing stones on the ground. “Like this…” He hovers his hands above the stones. “Wish dragon Shtelru, by your name, I summon you!”

The stones begin to glow a brilliant blue, and then, suddenly, an energy beam shoots upward out from them. From the beam forms a giant dragon, towering above the group. Kigai and Enlil seem unfazed, but Kinpa is blown away from the size of the creature.

Soon enough, the dragon speaks. “Speak your wishes now, and I will grant them, if it is within my power,” he booms.

Kigai gestures to Shtelru, turning to Enlil. “Go ahead.”

Enlil steps forward. “Great dragon, I wish for you to switch Oro and Patoto’s bodies back to normal!”

Shtelru’s eyes glow a bright red. “Very well. It is done.”

In an instant, Oro and Patoto’s bodies swap back to their original owners. Oro looks down at his body in confusion. “What?!”

Meanwhile, Enlil turns to Kinpa. “Kinpa, you stay here. I need to make sure it worked. I’ll be back.” She looks up at the dragon again. “Shtelru, can you wait just a moment?”

“Do not make me wait long.”

“I won’t.”

Enlil teleports back to the farm, leaving Kinpa to stand with Kigai. When she arrives, she’s greeted by the scene of Evelyn holding her wife on the ground, sobbing over her body.

“Zumeg…!” Evelyn cries. “Zumeg, wake up…!”

Enlil is shocked. She looks to where Patoto is standing with his fists clenched tightly at his sides, now in his own body. He is trembling.

“You… You shoulda never hurt my mom,” he growls. The air around him begins to crackle as his energy spikes. Suddenly, he explodes with power, his hair turning blonde and his eyes burning red. Tears are streaming down his face. “I’ll make you pay!!!”

He launches himself at a surprised Oro, who proceeds to get the punch of his life directly to the face.

He’s flung back through the trees, crashing through the forest before skidding to a stop in a ditch formed by the impact of his body on the ground. He opens his eyes just in time to see Patoto flying towards him, and he just barely dodges an intensely-powerful blow that instead strikes the ground below him. Patoto snaps around as Oro tries to fly away, grabbing him by the leg before slamming him directly into the ground.

While this is happening, Enlil stands over Evelyn. “Wait right here. I can fix this, I promise.”

She teleports back to the others at Kigai’s camp, wasting no time before speaking again. “Zumeg was killed. Can Shtelru bring her back?”

Kigai nods. “As long as she hasn’t been brought back before, yes.”

“Okay.” She looks up at the dragon once more. “Shtelru, I have another wish!”

Shtelru’s thunderous voice responds, “Speak it now, before I run out of patience.”

“I wish for the lemurian Zumeg to be brought back to life!”

Once again, the dragon’s eyes glow brightly as he grants the wish. “It is done.”

Miraculously, thanks to Shtelru, Zumeg’s eyes flutter open as Evelyn cries over her. She sits up, surprising Evelyn in the best way. Evelyn hugs her tightly. “Oh, honey, I thought you were gone…!”

Zumeg rubs her head. “What happened…? Where’s--”

She looks up to see Patoto kicking the absolute shit out of Oro. The god is bleeding profusely, evidently having been taking an intense beating from the lemurian. Patoto performs an overhead kick and sends Oro flying down to the ground, where he crashes and slides along the dirt. When he stops, he weakly looks up to see Enlil staring down at him in disappointment. Patoto lands a few feet behind them as Enlil nods to him. “I’ll take him from here Patoto. Thank you.”

Patoto doesn’t seem to be quite finished with him yet, still clearly angry, but the voice of his mother stops him from stepping forward.

“Patoto!”

He turns to see Zumeg running towards him, and the anger in his expression completely disappears into relief. “Mom?”

The two hug tightly as Patoto powers down to his base form once again. As this happens, Enlil lifts Oro up over her shoulder and turns to everyone, who is gathering around Zumeg and Patoto.

“I’m sorry to have brought you all so much trouble,” she assures solemnly. “He won’t be back to do it again after this; I promise.”

The two gods disappear, leaving the group to stand there. Patoto nuzzles his mother lovingly, clearly happy to have her back and safe. Evelyn also seems pleased with the outcome of all this. Kinpa is the only one whose mind seems to be elsewhere.

#mirrors #chapter 7

[dkscribe88]

Let it Snow Parody Song!

Here it is, folks! Delivered just a few minutes past midnight on Dec. 25th (US central time), my new parody song, titled: Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go! As sung by Onica. Enjoy. Happy Holidays!

                                 Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go!

Oh, your mother is awf’ly spiteful And though your company’s so delightful We don’t wanna be caught and so Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go

The guards are outside, in full force And your mother won’t show much remorse I want to keep seeing you, my beau Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go

We must finally kiss goodnight I’m so glad we met out in that storm And if you wanna hold me tight Just go on home, safe from harm

You may want to just try flying When you soar, it’s so beguiling You’ll slip past the blockade, I know Tavra go, please just go, Tavra go

I don’t care if it’s ten below out And don’t give me that adorable pout O’er mountains and through passes low Tavra go, c’mon go, Tavra go

I’ll give you one more sweet kiss goodnight Then you’ve got to go out in the storm I’ll miss you holding me so tight But at least you’ll be home by the morn

Now the incense smoke’s slowly dying                                 And my dear, there’s no denying       That the Sister’s light’s ‘r gettin’ too low Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go!

Yes, I love you! But it’s the end of the show

Tavra go, Tavra go, Tavra go

Tavra go, Tavra go, Ta-vra go-o-o-o-o-o!

Well, there you have it, folks! A good, old-fashioned, winter love song. Or, as my friend TS put it, a less creepy version of Baby it’s Cold Outside. I hope it comes across that way. It’s just something I can easily picture Tavra doing, and Onica would be giggling and letting it go on for a bit before ending it and kicking her out for her own good. I do hope you all like it. Merry Skekmas!

#christmas #dark crystal #tavronica #tavra #onica #the dark crystal #the dark crystal: age of resistance #the dark crystal: aor #parody song

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Guns Ain’t a Plague

I wrote some version of this story over and over. This is the version I apparently emailed to a friend in 2013 and just rediscovered in my inbox. I am staring at this and realizing how long ago 2013 was now. Oh my gosh.

Background: I was already very much all about post-apocalyptic stuff, but this takes place in a world entirely unlike - and yet strikingly like - our own. In a world where war and disease once tore the land apart, an isolated, caged city of children struggles to survive.

Until one decides to leave.

Oh man somewhere in my stuff I have all my old maps and descriptions of the different countries and the war and... I wrote so much stuff for this universe/storyline...

-

The young woman crouched where the last of the road crumbled into broken stone. It had been crushed when they exited the city, taking their horses and carriages, doctors and soldiers and history, with them. Her feet were bare and she dug her toes into the warm red earth between the cracked rock. The muscles in her legs tensed, she placed one hand for balance on the ground.

She would have to run like wind if she was going to survive this.

“Don’t,” came Tor’s familiar voice behind her. She jumped up, wondering why she was even surprised he had followed her. She had, after all, been the one to teach him how to do it. She turned around, to look him in the eye, heart aching at the idea that if she didn’t time this just right, she would never see him again.

“Ed,” The boy said in the same pleading tone, hands held out to grab her, “don’t. You can’t even think it. You’ll die, same as they all do!”

Ed rolled her eyes and shot him a baleful glare, but she was bluffing and they both knew it. The toughness fell off of her face almost immediately, and she grabbed the much younger boy, pulling him into a fierce hug.

The two of them looked so alike that they seemed mirrored, almost, the teenager and the adult just barely ten years older than him. Ed’s skin was the same dusky red-brown as Tor’s, their hair the same rich black. It even hung in the same small twists, cut short and close to their heads, although Tor’s was cut a little longer. The only difference was in their ages and in their eyes. Ed’s eyes were a deep, rich pure brown, but Tor’s were green.

Ed thought she was somewhere near twenty-five; no one was completely sure on ages here. She knew Tor had been something like two when she’d found him; herself a ragged orphan, hearing him crying from two buildings over and simply taking him home. It was better than letting him die.

“I should’ve known you’d follow me,” She said, shaking her head. “And if you’re here… Jedder came too, didn’t he?”

“I run faster’n Jedder,” Tor said, clinging to her even harder. His arms around her waist felt like they were crushing her organs and she attempted to try and loosen his grip, with no luck. “Don’t die, Ed!”

“Won’t die, Tor,” she replied. “Don’t think I will anyway. How long they been standin’ there, those towers? Ten years now? Every gun’s got to run out of bullets sometime, right?”

“Not those guns.” Torrin gestured at the small turret towers stationed every twenty feet or so as far as they both could see around the place designated as the ‘edge’ of the city. Wherever roads had gone any farther, they had been smashed to bits until the towers were up. It felt like a river of grass, weeds, broken rock and bone surrounded them, surrounded this whole ruined city, a city that no living person had ever seen before it was a pile of ghosts and disease.

Ed, for a moment, allowed her grip on Tor to be as tight as his grip on her.

“Besides,” he continued with his face still pushed against her shoulder, head still tucked just under her chin. “who’s gonna feed us if you’re dead? Who’s gonna take care of us? You always take care of us, Eddi! Always. Since everybody died you take care of us. You can’t just stop ‘cause your feet got itchy.”

“Tor, you know damn well that ain’t why I want to try this time. We can’t stay here forever. This place is full of us, we can’t keep enough food to go on livin’ like this.  It’s been over a hundred years since this city fell, by my parents’ reckoning, since they just left everyone to die. Left a city full of kids with a bunch of dead bodies and bullets, fat lot of good it’s doin’ us now. The Oracle and her folk may like this place, an’ the Keepers may think we’re stuck here carin’ for the dead, but I think… I think somebody needs to get out and prove we still exist.”

There were footsteps behind them and they turned, almost as one, with Tor’s hand still twisted in Ed’s shirt.

The sweaty, fast-breathing young man who came running up to them was not like them in the slightest. His skin and hair were the same flat and dull gray-white. Compared to Tor and Ed, his arms seemed too long, he was too skinny, his hands and feet just a mite too big to be human. His eyes were unsettling to everyone but his little chosen family; wide and far apart, set on a diagonal line in his face, they were black. He broke into a relieved smile at seeing them both standing there. “Eddi! Tor caught up with you then. He runs faster’n me!”

“That’s what I said!” Tor was entirely too proud of himself. Ed bit her lip to stop from chiding him for it.

Jedder stopped, leaning over to lean his hands flat on his thighs to try and stop gasping quite so much.

“’Course he does. Plesalka never could run to save your lives,” Ed said with a responding smile and managed to extricate her shirt from Tor’s grasp. She turned back to survey the turrets again. Old and rusting over time, evidence of Plesalka scientific genius, the kind of machines and creations that neither Letenje like Ed and Tor or the Teci had ever been able to match. Their last apology for their part in this before the Exile began.

She knew about the reason those turrets existed only her parents had hoarded the scribble writings of their own ancestors; her great-great grandmother had been alive to witness the Plague and the death, had survived long enough to make sure her children were as protected as possible.

In the end, there was only so much protection to give; scarcity of food and resources meant that no one had a very long life span here.

It was one of the reasons she was so aware of her need to leave.

“I’m going to try whether you two like it or not. I’m going to try on my own, got it? And if I make it over that rise to the other side, I will shut those turrets down somehow. I’ll bash ‘em in with one of those twisted hunks of metal lyin’ all over the damn place. Once they’re broken, you two can get over and we can leave together. We’re not gonna die here where they left all of us, thinkin’ we’d be gone eventually.” Old grief twisted in her heart; she’d lost both her parents when she was 12, when they had gone out scavenging and been caught in the middle of a battle between the old Oracle’s gang and other Scavs like them. It had been a long, lonely, horrible year before she’d found Jedder.

She crouched down again, curling her fingers around one of the broken pieces of the road here at the edge. It was heavier than it looked, warm from the constant rays of the sun. Even with the lean muscle she’d picked up in ten years of scavenging everything she ate she left out a small grunt of effort as she threw it straight at the closest turret. She missed by a long arc. The gun did not respond or move to follow the stone’s movement. “They’re gettin’ worse. They used to shoot the rocks, too.”

Jedder and Tor shared a look behind her back, unsure of what to do. Jedder, at fifteen, was still nine years Ed’s junior and Tor at twelve was a full twelve years younger. She had been as much a mother to them as a teenage girl could be when she’d found them. Jedder had been found first, a little Scav just barely staying alive by stealing from the gangs, unwelcome like all Plesalka were… Tor just two years old, crying inside a makeshift nursery, his parents dead on the floor and all their food stores stolen. She had taken them in, even knowing Jedder being Plesalka would make it harder on them.        

No one ever stopped being angry, especially since in a century the stories to explain what had happened had gotten weirder and more elaborate as told by the remaining survivors. Even the truth made it hard to forgive either the Plesalka or the Teci for what they had created, what they had done in their war on each other… even if kids like Jedder were so far removed from those events as to be a whole separate people by now.

“Eddi,” Tor said, and now his voice was starting to take on a edge of nagging worry, “Eddi, what if this doesn’t work and you die?”

“Then you and Jedder go on livin’,” Ed replied without looking back at them.

She was surveying all possible obstacles between her and the turrets. Rocks. Weeds.

Bodies.

The last made her shudder, made the already roiling pit of nervousness that was her stomach threaten to riot up her meager lunch. Some of the bodies out here weren’t even bodies anymore. It was mostly bones left for her to look at, though now and then she could see evidence of newer deaths. Some kids still went crazy and made a run for it. She herself probably counted as crazy, just to be thinking about it. Still. There was a lot of bone out here. A lot of dead people dumped here at the edge to warn away anyone who might see them, to keep visitors out, to keep the descendents of Pohroma citizens in.

Barefoot, you want to run through a burial ground, she thought, wondering if it would be the last thing she did. “I’ve taught you both how to live if you lost me. If you think you can’t stick it out just the two of you, well, the other Plesalka that’re still alive would take Jedder in, if he went to them. Tor, you know the Oracle or the Keepers would have you. They could keep you safe. Don’t you dare join up with any of the Scav gangs, though.”

“We want you,” Jedder said stubbornly. “Besides, even if you died we’d just stick together. We don’t know any other way to be but the three of us.”

“Then you better be prayin’ to somebody’s god I don’t die now, because I’m going to do this.” She didn’t wait for their response but just launched herself forward with all the speed her legs could give her.  Not being able to crouch down and prepare first had only cost her half a second, but nonetheless she felt a rush of fear that it would be a half-second too many.

She felt Tor’s fingers clutch the back of her shirt, but he couldn’t get a grip and she twisted away from him easily, running like the devil was at her heels.

There was a rusty shrieking coming from turrets that had been left abandoned, not repaired or even touched in almost twenty years. The sound filled the air, coming from nearly ten turrets who were all slowly, inexorably pointing in her direction as she ran. Birds, having made nests in the openings, took to the air in a sudden frenzy of wings and shrieking birdcalls. For a moment, the sky was dark with them.

Ed ran.

She dodged larger rocks and the corpses of both people and animals shot dead by the turrets. Dogs, rats, foxes, cats, people… all just empty bones, she told herself, trying not to let her feet even brush them as she went past.

She ran.

She caught a glint and looked up, realizing that she could see the sun shining off all the metal casing on the ground for every bullet these huge guns had ever fired. She was caught by the shine of them just long enough to distract her.

And she tripped.

She had to have tripped on a rock, she could feel the rough of it scrape all the way down from mid-calf to her ankle as she fell and went rolling, coming to a halt only when she hit another big chunk of rock a few feet away. The breath was knocked out of her and she could only gasp, frozen, realizing that the horrible groaning of the moving metal had finally come to an end.

She looked up, and was looking directly up the barrel of one of the turrets, and it was aiming at her. She could not move. She thought of her parents, long dead from the violence in this city. She thought of finding Tor at two years old, Jedder at the time the only one who keep the little toddler from crying all the time. She thought of how they had lived the last ten years as a family, kept each other safe. She thought of every time she had ever seen a wild animal gunned down by these turrets, ripped to absolute shreds by the bullets.

She flinched at the sudden click of the gun.

Click?

It echoed, bouncing off against the walls and back again and at least twenty of the turrets were clicking in a chorus and Ed began, despite the aftermath of adrenaline still pumping, to laugh.

The sound of her laughter was something just below a scream, hysterical and echoing, bouncing off against the old stone walls behind Tor and Jedder, making them jump.

It took some effort and her ankle ached in a way that told her this victory wasn’t coming to her without some price to pay, but she began to hobble back to Jedder and Tor, arms out to them, spread as wide as her smile.

“They’re empty!” She called out above the noise. “Every single one!”

Only a moment of hesitation, a look of pure relief shared between the two boys, and then they came pounding across the earth until they could throw their arms around her, the both of them at once.

“They’re empty,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Tor’s head, to the fuzzy twists of his hair, before turning to lean her forehead against Jedder’s cheek. “I knew it. They never did come back to replace ‘em, not since before I was born, at least my da said. They had to run out sooner or later.” She squeezed the two of them even tighter, then finally let them go. Reluctantly, they let go of her as well.

“Empty,” she said one more time, savoring the taste of the word.

“So we can go,” Jedder breathed out. “We can leave. I don’t. I’ve never been outside the city. No one has. We don’t even know if there’s other people out there or if everyone died in the Plague, if it hit other places, too.”

 “I don’t think it did,” Tor said, thoughtfully. “Cause otherwise why would they have had to send people to keep us locked in by replacin’ bullets, ever?” Curling his fingers in Ed’s patched and worn shirt, he shook his head. “Bet there’s a whole world full of people out there. Maybe they don’t even know about us.”

Ed smiled, but it was a smile entirely without humor.

“Let’s go show the bastards we’re still alive.”

#original writing #original fiction #writeblr #writblr #escaped whumpee #runaway whumpee #whump writing #guns tw #defiant whumpee #post-apocalyptic #post-apocalypse #post-apocalyptic fiction #dystopian fiction #fantasy fiction #sci-fi fiction #sci-fi writing #this was more of less the video game idea i once had #I tried to make it into a story #again and again #I still have Eddi rolling around inside my head sometimes #she's a badass and I love her #this is no more edited or changed than it was when I sent it to my friend

[maribabyart]

Do you have any Demon Martha headcanons? How do you think her reunion with Mrs. Mayberry (The teacher who paid for her assassination) in hell would go?

 OK YES I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR THIS HERE WE GO --

MARTHA HEADCANONS <3

So, I’m gonna start with her before she died so I can fully get into why every part of her is the way she is as a demon.

Martha is light skinned Latina woman with family coming from Venezuela. Her mother has a much darker skin tone than her, but her father is far more light-skinned, where she gets her complexion from. While she was raised in America, her parents were immigrants. She was born at home, and she didn’t get a birth certificate until she was four, the year before she started schooling.

She has three older brothers. They were very rambunctious with Martha as a child, pulling pranks on her/with her, taking her hunting, etc.

She was raised out on a farm in the middle of a forested area in Kentucky. They raised cattle, sheep, chickens, and horses. Martha’s main job on the farm was to groom/ride horses and feed chickens.

She learned her sharp-shooter skills in a more intense version of something like 4H unique to her area. She was fantastic with a bow and arrow, and even better with her firearms.

Cannibalism was normalized in Martha’s life from a young age. She knew that it must be kept secret from the outside world, and that it wasn’t accepted. However, it wasn’t something she found to be horrid.

Her family -- and their close friends -- came from a long lineage of Satanic cultists that practiced cannibalism to purge any bit of, “soul” remaining in the corpses of their sacrifices. Due to this, Martha had evolved to be able to be immune to the ill side effects of cannibalism, along with the ability to not feel repulsed by the idea of eating human meat.

Her favorite part of the body growing up was the brain, and it still is to this day. She loves the frontal lobe slathered in spices and hot sauce.

She began her cultish killings at age fourteen, when she officially joined the cult of her family’s descent -- Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida (Fellowship of the Forbidden Fruit, a refrence to their following of Lucifer)

Martha didn’t love Raphael Peterson, or, “Ralphie”. She was married of to him at age sixteen, when she became a, “Woman” in the cult’s eyes. They were both meant to appear as an ideal couple so that people wouldn’t suspect them, as their parents before them have.

Ralph and Martha always saw each other as friends with benefits.

They moved to Dayton, Tennessee to start their family when they turned eighteen.

In Nashville, Martha started singing to music her husband played in Taverns. Think Dolly Parton style music. She sounded a lot like that.

Their first child was born when Martha was eighteen: Their daughter, Jolene Peterson. Two years later, they had their son, Beau Peterson.

Martha was always really involved with her kids’ school activities, and she was always volunteering to work events, and her kids were in every activity they could be.

She used her physical attractiveness to seduce and kill men.

While sex favorable, Martha is on the aspec -- greysexual (sexual pleasure is irrelevant to her, and she only engages in it to appease her partner generally. She only finds sexual attraction in people while in the act.) Because of this fact, Martha only has affairs for the sake of gaining trust to bring the men home so they can be killed and eaten.

When Martha was shot, the community villainized Mrs. Mayberry because the town darling, Martha Jane Nunez Robles-Peterson, would NEVER cheat, right? The situation was misread: Martha was just talking to Jarold Mayberry that night about t-ball-related things, right? He WAS the the little league captain for her 6-year-old-son’s league, wasn’t he?

Martha was gifted millions by the community, and people were insanely supportive of her. They wanted the sweet Martha they, “knew” to get better soon. They loved her so -- such a darling woman!

Her music became more well known, and soon, Martha was all over TV. Her big musical break came from when she auditioned for American Idol and made it. Her sob-story propelled her, and she eventually won.

Martha was a hero to everyone around her -- surviving a traumatic event that was uncalled for, while also being so damn chipper and kind.

Hell, did you guys see the background in one of those scenes?! Martha was canonly proclaimed a SAINT! People loved her that much.

She used the public trust to lure in more victims and never be suspected.

Martha was 28 when she died. Ralphie was 28 as well. Jolene was 10, and Beau was 8.

Ralphie managed to survive the explosion, albeit he was completely paralyzed, and the two children went to heaven. Ralphie repented during his last month alive, and confessed to his crimes. He was sent to heaven as well.

Martha and the children were declared to have died in a bear attack, as Compañerismo de la Fruta Prohibida covered up their true demise with ease.

People were heart broken -- Martha’s music was used in sad collages on Youtube, Tik Toks had Martha’s face in them for memorials.

No one ever realized her crimes.

Now! As a demon....

In hell, Martha picked up the alias Hero -- it’s what she was in life, right? I’ll be calling her Hero from now on.

Hero is both different and similar to how she was when she was alive. She’s still the got her kind-hearted, southern mama vibe going for her: She tends to be able to fit into any demonic crowd well, either by attractiveness or by sheer, overwhelming allure -- she’s a very magnetic personality.

As far as powers go, Hero’s are mostly related to firearms. She’s acquired these powers through deal making and soul dealing, as most demons do. Her charming aura very quickly lure people into thinking she’s naive or really just being honest with them.

Her nails can peel back to allow her to shoot from, “finger guns”. Each finger is a different gun, besides her middle and index fingers. They are both shotguns. Together, they make a double barrel shotgun.

When in full demonic form, Hero’s bandages become sentient. They peel away from her wound, revealing a minigun like weapon in the hole in her head. This can rapid fire while the bandages can grab onto things or hoist Hero up. She can make this last for five minutes -- ten at the longest -- before she gives out to sheer exhaustion and needs to eat demon meat to replenish herself.

Within her first week in hell, she was known to be powerful. Not quite an overlord, but powerful enough to hang around overlords. 

She hit overlord status three months later, during the terf war seen in Hazbin Hotel’s pilot: She took several areas of land, and was seen to have several lesser demons flocking to be on her good side.

Hero used her land to build up a bar and grill that serves strictly demon meat and blood, where demons can play music and dance. It’s like a fucked up country dinner. It’s an insanely popular addition to Cannibal Colony, where she lives.

The place is called La Cocina de la Calle Kuru (The Kuru Street Kitchen)

Hero REALLY wants to get her hands on exterminator tools, but she’s not really a fan of black market deals -- it’s too “trashy” for her.

Hero knows Alastor pretty well, as he’s came in for meat and to watch the music. They’ve had pretty decent conversations while she was on break, seeing as they were both influential  southern, cannibalistic serial killers. It’s a running gag between them where they jokingly talk about who was more iconic -- “I bet I took out more belles in a lifetime than you could in your entire afterlife!” “Well hon, at least I could eat the brains without gettin’ Kuru!”

She talks to Rosie a lot about business, and has met Niffty and Mimzy before. (Al hooked a bitch up with some friends lmao)

She REALLY likes Mimzy. She reminds her of Ralphie, and they became super fast friends. 

Vox and Hero have a confusing sort of friendship, as neither really wants to be seen with the other -- In his case, because she’s much lower on the overlord spectrum than him, and in her case, because she’s no stranger to Alastor and Vox’s hatred for one another. However, she often finds herself consoling Vox on sleepless nights after closing up the bar, trying to convince him that Valentino is NOT worth his time. Beyond that and him occasionally paying her back in tech at random hours of the morning, they don’t talk often.

Hero LOVES dancing! Like, a lot.

She’s seen Charlie’s ad for the Happy Hotel. Her and Mimzy watched it, and they both thought it was the stupidest damn thing they’d ever seen. However, Hero said she was happy Charlie got up there, because she was just, “Cute as a button, that lil’ sweatpea was!”

Hero’s best friends are Mimzy and an unnamed demon who specializes in black market, extermination tool selling (the one seen in in Addict -- Cherri Bomb’s former lover).

These two people, and these two people alone, can call her “Martha”

Hero cooks whenever she’s stressed. She also adores sewing and binging soap operas and reality shows on Voxflix.

Hero’s Instagram would be, “HeroicMelodies” in reference to her music career and name.

Hero gets hit on A LOT, and she despises it. She doesn’t need to seduce people anymore to get away with murder, and she doesn’t want to. She dresses the way she does because she LIKES that clothing. People can fuck off.

The reason Hero is white and pink is to show how innocent she looks. Her pitch-black eyes show her dark soul.

Hero sings in Spanish to herself when cleaning up.

Sometimes, Hero and Rosie spend holidays going around with ground demon meat to throw to the hell crows and other critters. They find it peaceful.

Hero, shockingly, holds no hatred for I.M.P., and commonly jokes about how the I.M.P.’s, “Did her a favor” by sending her somewhere she can actually be her. She has no idea who called for the hit, though. 

Hero finds Blitzo’s Instagram posts being poorly spelled to be, “Damn near precious”.

She thinks he’s a teenager, and probably would think it less adorable if she knew he was a grown man with a grown kid.

Hero doesn’t care about Mrs. Mayberry at all. Like, at all. She honestly assumes the woman is in heaven. She knew Mayberry wasn’t bad -- she probably wouldn’t care if she was in hell, though. Oh well. Sucks to suck, bitch.

Husk frequents La Cocina de la Calle Kuru to drink and engage in the gambling scene. Hero finds him trashy, but can’t say she hates him. She finds him funny as hell, and enjoys the business. Just not someone she’d personally hang out with.

#Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel #Martha #Demon! Martha #Hero #Alastor #Vox #Rosie #Husk #Niffty #Mimzy #Headcanons #Head canons #AU #Sort off? #Hell #Mrs. Mayberry #Ralphie #Murder Family

[getreadytosmash]

⏳ 20 years ;3

@mistyflame1

Future verse

A part of Hulk felt like skipping or heaving his brothers up into his arms once more when the bright flash happened, dropping younger versions of his siblings onto the dirt in a way that felt so painfully familiar and delightful all at once.

He knew Bruce and David were staring, eyes caught on the fact that 20 years had passed for Hulk and while he mostly looked the same, there were subtle differences. His pants, while still mainly blue, now had purple patterns at the sides, with Hulk's hair now curling, making him look more like David than ever. The necklace of three wedding rings (his for Cai and Betty while Joe had one too from Betty) round his neck, sunflower tattoos patterned all across the left side of his body.

"So, uh...yeah, 20 years have gone by, it's...a lot," He turns his head to smile down at them, feeling another clench of his heart to see his brothers looking so young. "The town's grown and we've spread out a bit more and I'm sure I can get the rest of the family here soon though, god knows they're gonna be excited at seeing you guys, god knows your older selves and C-"

"Ah, ah! Don't spoil too much so soon!" Bruce shifts into reality, gamma energy pulling away from Hulk to create an almost holographic green version of Bruce that walks alongside him. He doesn't need to look behind him to know that David and Bruce are making surprised noises. The shock of going from a time where Banner hated him and feared what he held inside himself, and now he was walking alongside Hulk, raising an eyebrow in that same way he always did before-

"Gotta make sure the baby brothers gots a place ta'sits when they get dolled up the hot tea, 'eh?" Joe phased out too, grinning and elbowing Hulk's side playfully and earning a fond headshake from Bruce. "God knows that the Missus' hate gettin' date night inta'ruppted an' better for us all t'have some sorta heart t'heart 'fore we get into it."

"He has a point," Bruce nodded.

Well...Hulk suppose he did. David and Bruce had a lot to know, like their mother and Karen coming back from the dead, Red having another kid, Hulk himself having a few more, Rick getting married and his own teams, Jen taking on more space missions and her own engagement...and so much more with the kids and what happened in Bruce and David's universe.

"Alright, alright," The green-skinned man rolled his eyes. "We'll let them know when we get inside, god knows we have enough-"

He should have expected it, in fact, for it to come sooner...but Hulk still yelped suddenly when he felt large arms suddenly pull him into a hug and-

Yup. David and Bruce, hugging him tightly and excited and curious looks on their face as Bruce and Joe laughed. It would have been a bad idea really, to spoil so much of their future for them...but his brothers had already done so much, giving them the gift of knowing Bruce and Hulk and the rest of their system being so happy was the least they could do.

#ask #mistyflame1 #the loneliest there is (hulk) #the man inside the monster (bruce) #suns out guns out (joe) #future verse #i had to cut it off sjjsjs #im just.....soft at bros getting to see the future and so happy.... #also crying at older bros meeting younger bros sjjsjss #was fighting/wondering to make it extended since Heli plot does take place with them all but....stuck with double bros #spare Hulk the hugs shshsh

[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part Two)

So, this is an adaptation of Pinocchio, right?

I mean...yeah, it definitely is. It’s a story about an artificial boy, brought to life and given to a parent to raise, learning lessons about humanity all along the way. Hell, they use the Collodi story as an element of the plot, so there’s no way it isn’t an adaptation of the original story. Here, I’ll break it down.

First, he’s given life by Hobby, who represents both his creator and the one who gives the artificial boy life. In other words, he’s a portmanteau of two characters: the Blue Fairy and Geppetto. The latter created him, while the former gives him life. Really, I’d argue that he’s more of the Blue Fairy.

So, who’s Geppetto? Obviously, Monica. She’s the (semi) loving parent that ACTUALLY makes David her son...literally. Remember the Winter Soldier awakening sequence? Monica is a flawed parent who obviously doesn’t quite know how to care for the little artificial boy, similar to how Geppetto is normally portrayed. And, like him, she never gets to teach her new son about the world before releasing him into it.

Of course, Geppetto didn’t physically abandon Pinocchio in the woods, but whatever. At least this Pinocchio’s been left with his Jiminy Cricket. Unlike the traditional version, though, this one is fuzzy.

Teddy, the stuffed bear supertoy, is clearly meant to be Jiminy Cricket, the conscience meant to guide David along his way, and along his journey. He subtly guides David, giving him advice that he sometimes ignores. And, given that David probably wasn’t built with a conscience, it makes sense to give him an internal one. Speaking of, let’s talk about David, because this simile might actually be more important than one would think in understanding this film.

David, of course, is creepy as FUCK. He’s trying hard to be a real boy that his mother can accept, but he’s so goddamn creepy. And initially, I thought that this might just be bad acting or direction. But then, I walked away for a little bit, and I realized something: what if that’s on purpose? Because here’s the thing: David isn’t real. And neither is Pinocchio, but with Pinocchio, you KNOW that.

Pinocchio is, after all, a puppet. And that point is obvious visually, both in the basically flawless Disney film, and in the original book. But David is, after all, played by an ACTUAL real boy, and therefore appears real to the audience. So, how to make him appear artificial? By emphasizing the fact that David’s behavior and actions are not natural. They are programmed and artificial. And so, when the journey begins, David hasn’t yet learned to be a real boy. And therefore, he isn’t yet real. And now, of course, he’s on the journey not only to become a real boy, but also to earn that chance. Just like Pinocchio.

But we’re only one-third through this film, and a LOT more happens in the story of Pinocchio. I’m not suggesting that this movie perfectly follows the book or Disney film by any means, but it’s definitely following some of its structure. And if Pinocchio is known for anything, it’s known for its most iconic villains and adversaries. I’m talking these guys:

And I’m...looking forward to seeing how these guys are adapted? Wait, wait, wait, hold on...I railed HARD against Act One (which you can read right here), whose writing and plot I still think were poorly thought out. But, after this mental recontextualization...am I actually enjoying this movie?

Shit, maybe. Thinking about it in these terms actually helps. OK, Kubrick, Spielberg...hit me with your best shot.

Recap (2/3)

With Act Two, enter Gigolo Joe (Jude Law). Yes. Really.

Gigolo Joe is a “lover Mecha”, a model built specifically for sexual gratification. Joe’s an interesting case, as he’s obviously built to be quite seductive, in a physical and a sensual manner. He’s been hired by a woman trying to get away from her abusive husband, and proceeds to woo her with sweet nothings, easing her discomfort with the idea of sleeping with a Mecha. And I’m gonna be honest: Joe is a CHARMING motherfucker, smooth and slick as a robot ought to be, with the ability to change his appearance and voice to please his customers.

And as I’m watching him, trying to figure out if he’s the Fox or the Cat, or both combined, he’s suddenly framed for murder by the jealous husband of one of his clients! Shit! Understanding exactly how fucked he is, he takes the necessary precautions and removes his identification chip. I’m not entirely sure who he is, but I’m interested in revisiting that plot, that’s for sure.

David, meanwhile, is wandering around in the woods, where he comes up with the idea to find the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio, who will surely turn him into a real boy. But while wandering through the woods, what does he find but another group of robots like himself, scavenging from parts that’ve been dumped in the woods. And the CGI here is absolutely fantastic looking, as the robots outfit themselves with technology.

Also stumbling upon this display is Joe, on the run. But as they all appear in the same place, the moon suddenly rises. And it’s gorgeous.

This is not the Moon, but a gorgeous hot-air balloon from something called the Flesh Fair. With men on the ground on specialized motorcycles called “Hounds”, and with an eye-in-the-sky belonging to commander Lord Johnson-Johnson (Brendan Gleeson). He and his men hunt down Mecha to take them to the Flesh Fair, where robots are destroyed for the sport of human observers.

They chase down and capture all of the robots assembled, including David, Joe, and THIS spectacular special effect.

Yeah, holy shit, that’s amazing.

Anyway, it’s here that David loses his conscience, as Teddy falls out, only to be brought to the Flesh Fair and taken as a lost toy, placed in the lost-and-found. And, now that we’re here, it’s time we acknowledge what this appears to be: Stromboli’s Circus.

Given the fact that the “puppet show” is clearly replaced by the abuse and destruction of robots (including one weirdly resembling and voiced by Chris fucking Rock of all people), and that it has a ringmaster in the form of Johnson-Johnson, this is definitely meant to be a replacement for Stromboli’s puppet show. Albeit, one colored by anti-Mecha racism, but whatever.

A little girl wanders up to the cage where David’s kept, and confuses him for a human child. She goes to her father, who’s astonished by the existence of a robot child, and he goes to Johnson-Johnson, who gives not a single shit, and brings him up to be destroyed with the rest in the flesh fair. Dude REALLY doesn’t like robots. David, understandably scared, has his Damage Avoidance System kick in, and he grabs onto Gigolo Joe for safety, dragging him along to their deaths.

As he’s about to be melted by concentrated acid in front of a crowd (all of whom are affected by seeing a child be melted, robot or not), David cries out in fear. This leads to the audience STRAIGHT-UP REBELLING, as they refuse to believe that David is anything but human. He immediately takes off, alongside Gigolo Joe and Teddy.

We head back to Cybertronics, where it’s revealed that David is actually a facsimile for Hobby’s departed son. Which is...weird. Real talk, this is extraordinarily odd, and Hobby clearly has some massive issues he needs to figure out. In the forest, Hobby and Joe get to know each other. He recommends getting to Rouge City to find the Blue Fairy, whose location they will ask for from a “Dr. Know”, as there is nothing he doesn’t.

Also, Jude Law’s giving a fuckin’ soliloquy about robot prostitution right now, and I’m not gonna lie to you; I can dig it. It’s a Queen Mab speech about gettin’ down on that robodick, and it’s actually quite entertaining. And with that, we not only head to Rouge City, but we also discover who Joe is meant to represent. If Rogue City is Pleasure Island (and it OBVIOUSLY is), Gigolo Joe is meant to be both the Fox (AKA Honest John, AKA J. Worthington Foulfellow), AND Lampwick. Neat! Anyway, Rouge City...

...is not even a little subtle, goddamn. It’s literally a sex-island. And yet, once there, David is introduced to Dr. Know (Robin Williams), a kiosk where you pay for information, which makes me appreciate Wikipedia so goddamn much. To the good Doctor, they ask for the location of the Blue Fairy. And by accurately using keywords (a skill under-appreciated in Google Searches), they get an eerie reading of Hobby’s book, beginning with a Yeats poem.

With this information, they discover that Hobby (and the secret to David becoming a real boy) is at the end of the world, in a place called “Man-hattan”. David is filled with new determination, but Gigolo isn’t quite sure if this is real. David fights back, saying that his mother loves him and that the Blue Fairy must become real. But Joe insists that she likely did not love him, and simply liked how she made him feel. And while David refuses this idea outright...he’s almost certainly correct.

They go outside, and Joe is about to be taken away by the police, presumably for that murdered woman. However, the helicopter they came in is taken by David, who plans to use it to get to Manhattan. Joe escapes and joins him, and the two head to Manhattan.

End Act Two. See you in Act Three!

#a.i. artificial intelligence #ai artificial intelligence #steven spielberg #stanley kubrick #haley joel osment #jude law #frances o'connor #brendan gleeson #william hurt #science fiction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usermichi

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 14: The Boy I Love Forever

Lei’s POV

To tell you the truth, I didn’t want Sehun to apologize for kissing me. Despite the glare that darkened his features when he swore that he wouldn’t apologize, I guess I was relieved by the imagination that there was nothing to regret about that memory after all. I guess I tingled at the thought that maybe he meant to steal my breath away, meant to make my heart race, meant to fill my every thought.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t want Sehun to apologize for delivering the news that Donghae wouldn’t attend the Christmas party. No apology would fill the void in the holiday left by Donghae’s absence. I didn’t want Sehun to apologize for bringing that old photograph back to Mom at Donghae’s request. The damage was already done. Besides, even in my moment of pain-fuelled rage, I knew that no blemish in the evening was really caused by Sehun’s hand.

It was obvious that I was straining to find some grudge to hold against Sehun. As long as I was angry about something, I could ignore how devastatingly handsome he looked in the pale winter moonlight. I could ignore the painful hammering in my chest when his eyes met mine. Anger could obscure the memory of his baby-soft lips on my freezing cheek just inches away from my parted lips. I could tell myself that my body was suddenly warmed by burning hatred— not by his touch.

The trouble is, I didn’t believe myself. I never believed for a fraction of a second that I had outgrown my adoration of Sehun. Sehun, who was always calm, cool, collected— the very definition of the quiet stoic strength I sought to emulate— until that night. Sehun, who somehow fell for my unconvincing act and believed that I stopped loving him. Sehun, who believed that I was actually capable of hating him in any version of the universe.

I didn’t want to hear his apologies. I didn’t want to hear his insecurities. I didn’t want to watch his eyes widen in horror as he stared at my broken mistletoe crown in his hands. I didn’t want to watch him walk into the snowy darkness at Yesung’s demand. I didn’t want Yesung to usher me into the house that should have been warm enough to thaw the block of ice in my chest. The burning fireplace and the cup of hot chocolate Lucas forced into my hands and the multitude of sympathetic stares from everybody, (especially Baekhyun, who tried to smile at me from the couch) didn't reach the block of ice, though.

Maybe a part of me wanted to risk annoying Sehun by chasing him into the dark. Maybe I wanted to abandon the morbid sense of pride that I developed over the years of denying myself the right to love who I loved. Maybe those tears that filled his eyes exposed that what I hoped was hard-won strength was actually a deep sense of shame.

Once Lucas and I were alone in my bedroom, I admitted to him (and, more importantly, to myself), that I absolutely wanted to follow Sehun at least one more time to tell him that I didn’t hate him— that I never hated him— that I could never hate him. Once I realized that anyone thinking that I hated Sehun was worse than everyone knowing that I loved him, I confessed the truth.

A Collection of Truths:

Every part of me was in love with Sehun— even the ones I tried to keep hidden in the dark.

Even when we were screaming on the porch, I wanted to kiss Sehun.

If loving Sehun was a weakness, I didn’t want to be strong. I didn’t care who saw me in my weakened state.

“Is that so?” Lucas asked, wide-eyed, sipping from his mug on my bed. He was nice enough to act surprised by what he knew all along.

Burning crimson after my unrestrained honesty, I set my mug on the floor and crossed my arms. “I’m not gonna repeat myself or anything. You heard the first time.”

Lucas nodded out the window. “He’ll probably want you to repeat it once or twice, though, so you might as well practice with me.”

I followed Lucas’s gaze to find Sehun standing atop a pile of snow just below my window. At first, my heart thumped at the thought that he had come to find me because he also wondered how he would sleep when we stood on such uncertain terms. Then, when moments passed and his eyes were still intently trained on the mistletoe in his hands without sparing one glance at me, I realized that was not the case. It was a happy accident that he was so close, still barely out of reach.

Maybe Lucas was right when he cheered, “It’s fate! What are you waiting for?”

I was still too afraid to take the first step toward Sehun when he was just a blink and a breath away. Shrinking away from the window so he couldn’t see me if he looked up with the wind, I mumbled, “I can’t go out there.”

“Why not?” Unable to meet Lucas’s disappointed frown, I stared at the place on my wall where Sehun’s poster once stood.

The paint was still faded. There was still an outline of his place that I could not yet fill even when Lucas urged, “Lei, he’s literally right here! If you don’t want any of that stuff that happened tonight to leave a scar, then just go out there and make a new, better memory!”

Lucas spoke with such enthusiasm that I almost believed that I could climb right through the window and into some fairytale with Sehun. Then, I opened my eyes and remembered that every image of myself as a princess was crafted for the stage. It wasn’t real. Fairytales weren’t real— especially not on that night when my mother’s heart was broken.

“What about Mom?” I asked, throat tight with the recent memory of her tears and the knowledge that she was probably still crying down the hall. “Do you think that I should go out with— with some boy while she’s—”

“He’s not some boy,” Lucas interrupted. “He’s Sehun. The person you’ve loved since you said hello. Your pain and Mom’s— they’re both valid— and I don’t think that she would feel any better knowing that you’re avoiding happiness for her sake. Mom told you to have fun at the party, and we both know that the person who will bring you closest to fun is right out there, twiddling your broken crown in his hands!”

Fun. Was that a word I ever associated with Sehun? No.

Still, Lucas was right. Like the coward I was when it came to him— to Sehun, who I couldn’t quite trust to hold anymore of the heart he warned me to guard— I searched for any reason to legitimize my fear. I was willing to use my mother as a shield, as a right to forfeit what I was too afraid to fight for only to lose.

Like the hopeless romantic that I was when it came to him— to Sehun, who could steal my heart from afar even when I confined my admiration to seconds-long glances out the window— I searched more desperately for something to encourage me to act on the urge to meet him halfway or most of the way or all of the way.

Does that make me weak or foolish or childish or submissive? I used to wonder before Lucas permitted me to let go of my stubborn definitions of strength.

“Just go.” He nudged my ribs, smiling softly. “Take all of the time you need. I’ll cover for you if anyone downstairs asks where you went.”

When I still didn’t feel brave enough to take the first step, Lucas asked in a small voice, “Don’t you think you’ll regret it if you let this moment pass?”

Maybe it was because of something Taeyeon once told me in the moonlight of her kitchen; or maybe it was because Lucas had to go to the trouble of opening the window for me; or maybe it was because of the sharp sting of the winter wind that made my eyes water as Sehun’s had on the front porch; or maybe it was because of the constriction of my heart when he looked at me, eyes filled with a unique blend of amusement and disapproval at my sudden appearance out of the second-floor window— but the overwhelming emotion of the night was regret.

Regret at all the time wasted in misunderstanding. Regret at all that time wasted crying in my room under the watch of the moon when I could have been with him, Sehun, who held out the world in manageable palm-sized pieces even when he glared at me from the driver’s seat like I was a stubbornly ignorant child. Regret at all the time spent apart that inclined me to believe that he didn’t love me even when it was written clearly on every feature of his handsome face, even when it was woven into the bandages he tied around my bleeding wounds, even when it was etched into every line that formed into his forehead with the furrowing of his brow.

Regret at the ragged sigh that fell from his pretty parted lips when I confessed that every glance at him made me want to sob into my palms, omitting the all-too-humiliating fact that everything about him still sparked my childhood curiosity of what it might be like to be destined to love one person forever. Regret at the fact that I couldn’t spend the rest of the night and the rest of my life in his car with my hand in his with the dawning realization that he loved me.

He loved me. Sehun loved me. Sehun loved me enough to forgive me for yelling and running and tiptoeing around his feelings that were too good to be true.

Regret at the reluctance with which my bandaged hand reached into the pocket of the warm black coat he dropped over my shoulders to brush against the fragmented mistletoe crown. Had curiosity struck me sooner, I could have plucked it from the pocket, held it over my head, and seen that flustered regret-numbing smile dash across his face sooner.

“Put that away,” Sehun instructed, reaching for the mistletoe. As I lifted it out of his reach, he tried (and failed) to bite back laughter. “Seriously, Lei. You don’t need a silly broken piece of mistletoe to get a kiss out of me.”

“Really?” My heart fluttered. I lowered the mistletoe, but I didn’t quite drop it back into the pocket. “Do you mean that?’

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. Are you getting excited?”

Because I now knew that he was flirting— and all of those similar comments that surrounded our first kiss were other attempts at flirting— a bubbling warmth spread through my chest. That warmth pulled my lips into a smile that I couldn’t have fought away with all of the effort in the world.

At the risk of further painting myself as an absolute fool, I’ll admit that I would have been content to kiss Sehun forever if he hadn’t broken away to again confess, this time breathlessly against my lips, “I love you. I’m in love with you, Lei.”

And I— I wanted to remain skeptical just in case he changed his mind with the rising of the sun, just in case I was dreaming again.

More than that, though, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that the lights in his eyes weren’t cast by the moon or the stars or the strings of lights lining my house; I wanted to believe that those bursts of light were some physical manifestation of his affection for me.

I already believed it, so I told myself that it didn’t have to last forever to be beautiful. If he was a moment that I embraced with my all, then there would be nothing to regret at breaking dawn. If nothing else, I would make him my most beautiful memory My most beautiful dream. My precious Sehun.

“Sehun,” I said because I could never say his name enough even if it flew from my lips for the rest of my life. “Do you remember when I said that you can walk with me anytime?”

“Yes.” His lips fit with mine. They were warm, soft, gentle, not at all what you would expect from him at a glance, not at all what you would expect without knowing him as intimately as I did. “I remember.”

“I meant that,” I said between kisses, almost wanting to cry each time we parted. “Always— always, I will keep a door open for you, and I’ll protect our memories, so if you change your mind—”

“What?” His face paled. A frown twitched in the corner of his mouth, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. “Lei.” He said my name sweetly, sending me into a spiral when I thought I couldn’t fall deeper. Sehun sighed my name, stealing my habit of preparing for the worst-case scenario. “You don’t have to believe in forever to be in love, but you shouldn’t offer to carry the weight of goodbye on your own. I understand that your mind rushes ahead to goodbye, but I wish it wouldn’t— at least not with me.”

Being seen as clearly as Sehun saw me in that moment was frightening and comforting— a nightmare and a dream. Had he been anyone else in the world, I would have wanted to disappear, but Sehun— Sehun didn’t have to see me to know me.

“I believe in forever,” I argued quietly. “I know that I will love you forever.” Then, set ablaze by the embarrassment of my honesty and the thought that I admitted to feeling too much too soon, I stuttered, “I— I mean—”

Sehun didn’t have to speak to silence me. He only smiled, deepening my blush and stealing my voice. “You don’t have to take it back, Lei. You can love me as much as you want for as long as you want. Please.”

The word ‘please,’ forced all remaining air from my lungs. I never before needed Sehun’s permission to love him, but once his plea hit my ears, I realized that I must have craved it for quite some time. No sooner than the words passed his upturned lips did I lean into him once again for another dream-fulfilling kiss.

Maybe I should have considered whether we were in danger of being caught by party guests— specifically Yesung, who would have been most disappointed to find me kissing the boy from the crown-breaking incident— or paparazzi. After all, someone was always watching. That fact had been impossible to forget since Sehun first taught it to me. That truth echoed in every corner of my mind until those moments Sehun’s lips were on mine, until those moments when Sehun breathed into me and left no room for thoughts other than ‘I love you, I love you; forever I will love you because forever I have loved you.’

Pulling away to try (and fail) to catch my breath, missing him instantly, I asked Sehun, “How did we get here?”

His pale face was flushed crimson. His blush was visible even in the moonlight. If only I knew the words to describe how beautiful he was as he shrugged and grinned, tracing some shapeless form on my cheek with the pad of his thumb, maybe I could create a portal back to that moment when the stars aligned.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’m just glad I followed you here.”

Thinking that life was as it was meant to be for the first time in a long time (maybe for the first time) because Sehun was by my side where I could see him, speak to him, hold him, kiss him, and love him like I always dreamed about, I smiled at him.

I walked into warmth from the frozen snowstorm separating Sehun’s car from my home to find Mom, Grandma, Heechul, and Lucas watching a drama starring Park Seojoon, my favorite actor.

For all of about two seconds, I was relieved that the party cleared out during my absence because that meant I wouldn’t have to listen to Yesung lecture about boys, I wouldn’t have to hide my smile from Kyuhyun, who would have instantly pieced together that I had been out with the boy on Super Junior’s hit list, and I wouldn’t have to stomach Baekhyun’s sympathetic puppy eyes that still seemed to burn into me when I glanced at the then-empty couch by the window he earlier claimed.

Before I could comfortably settle into the couch and peel back the curtains and blinds to see if Sehun’s car still sat within sight, Heechul immobilized me with his glare. “Did you have fun on your midnight rendezvous?” He asked loudly as if oblivious to the fact that Mom laid her sleeping head in his lap.

Fun. Maybe that was a word I could associate with that tingling sensation that set me alight at the thought of Sehun. Maybe that was a word I could use to describe the act of kissing him in that dimly lit space that I still remember in perfect detail with each blink of my eyes. Maybe that is the word for that surge of breathlessness that accompanies every memory of those moments when we touched.

When Heechul looked at me with fire leaking out of his eyes, though, I knew that I couldn’t say any of those truths aloud. I shrank under the understanding that I was not expected to respond. Even in Yesung’s absence, I was in for a scolding. Dropping the curtains, lowering my gaze to the palms I pressed flat against the skirt of my dress, I elected to brave it silently.

I made the wrong choice. “Aren’t you going to answer me?” Heechul’s roar stirred Mom into sitting upright.

“I—” I shook my head, face burning as it always did when I was the center of attention—  “I figured you were asking a rhetorical question.”

“I wasn’t!” I looked up in time to watch Heechul’s eyes roll. “Where did you go? Who were you with?”

Normally, I would have been too flattered that Heechul cared about me to feel at all stifled by his rare protective outbursts, but something about his tone and the glint in his eyes sparked my temper ablaze.

Before I could reply with any degree of sass, Grandma lied without glancing away from Park Seojoon’s face on the television, “She asked for my permission before leaving, so you don’t have to worry, Heechul.”

I should have been content to leave the confrontation at that. Because Grandma ranked above Heechul in the family hierarchy, he bit down on his tongue despite the persistent urge to berate me that stained his face a dull shade of red.

Emboldened by the belief that I had done nothing wrong, I reminded Heechul, “I’m 21 years old, so technically I’m allowed to go where I want, whenever I want, with whoever—”

“You were out with your abusive-ass boyfriend, weren’t you?” Heechul fumed.

My face burned at Heechul’s blatant misunderstanding of Sehun. I was speechless, numb and nauseated by the screaming thought that nobody had ever been as wrong about anyone to the degree that Heechul was wrong about Sehun.

Lucas whirled around in his place on the floor to stare at me with sparkling eyes and a smile that flourished even in the tense atmosphere established by Heechul’s tantrum. “Boyfriend?” He repeated hopefully, giggling at the grin that tugged at my lips because the dream that Sehun could be my boyfriend— the first and only person I would love without limitations— was, for the first time, not a vague abstract concept.

Sehun was within reach, I knew, because I held him.

Mom rubbed bags under her eyes that were darkened by fatigue and running mascara. “What are you talking about? Lei’s boyfriend is right here!” She pointed at Lucas, misunderstanding our relationship for the millionth time.

“Stop living in a fantasy!” Heechul corrected her before I could.

The sharpness of his tone didn’t seem to bother Mom in the slightest way. Her eyes only narrowed in genuine confusion as she tried to resign herself to the fact that Heechul was right when he said, “Lei never dated Lucas! I’ve told you a million times— they’re siblings!” Jabbing a finger at me without glancing my way, Heechul told Mom, “She has a thing for that boy with the angry eyebrows and angrier temper!”

I squirmed at the knowledge that Mom and Heechul were among the millions who speculated about my relationships. To distract Heechul from Mom, who had enough to worry about without him yelling at her, I yelled, “My relationship with Sehun is none of your business!”

“Sehun?” Mom gasped, bringing a hand up to her lips. Her shoulders sagged. “You mean you’re really not dating Lucas?”

Thankfully, Lucas distracted Mom from the fact that Heechul, Grandma, and I rolled our eyes. Turning to place his hand on her knee over her red pajama pants, probably staining the fabric with buttery fingers, Lucas sweetly answered, “No, Mom. We never dated. We’re best friends.”

From that moment on, following a subtle nod at Lucas, who had never before gone to such lengths to deliberately deny our dating allegations, Mom never again mistook us for a couple.

“Sehun?” Mom repeated, focusing her bewildered gaze on me. “You were out with Sehun?”

The answer was obvious because of his coat that still hung loosely over my shoulders and the blush that colored my face at the sound of his name. Still, I nodded my head and closed my eyes to block out the sight of Mom’s mouth falling open in utter surprise.

“If you’re shocked by this,” Heechul hissed at her, “then you should have seen them fighting on the front porch!”

“That was a misunderstanding!”

I don’t know who I was trying to convince with that outburst: Mom, whose gaze flickered between me and Heechul; Grandma, who finally paused the television drama to devote her full attention to the real-life drama unfolding before her eyes; Heechul, who still glared at me, impossible to convince; or myself, who plummeted from my height at the memory of the fight on the front porch that Heechul would not let me forget.

Lucas, the only person who didn’t require convincing, agreed uncharacteristically quietly, “Yeah. Sehun has loved Lei forever. He’s just learning how to show it in a new way.”

Deaf to Lucas’s opinion or otherwise dubious, Heechul insisted, “I didn’t misunderstand a damn thing about him snatching that flower crown off of your head! Don’t be stupid enough to forgive a jerk just because he lies and says he loves you!”

At my ragged wheeze that filled the room instead of my adamant declaration that it wasn’t a lie— that Sehun meant it when he said he loved me— Grandma cut her eyes at Heechul, Lucas dropped his gaze into the bucket of popcorn in his lap, and only Mom was brave enough to argue.

She placed a soothing hand on Heechul’s shoulder. “Heechul, calm down. That’s what happens in young love— misunderstandings, dramatic arguments, more dramatic reconciliations. Sehun is a sweet boy, so I’m sure—”

“You didn’t see what I saw!” Heechul frowned as he shrugged out of Mom’s grip. “If that’s that guy’s idea of love, then he needs to stay the hell away from our girl!”

My stomach turned at the mere thought of never seeing Sehun again, and I glared at Heechul for speaking such a tragedy into the universe. This is precisely the sort of thing I should never admit, but I knew that I would have gone behind Heechul’s back for the rest of my life to continue walking with Sehun even for moments at a time in the darkness.

I was dangerously in love with him, all too willing to risk my reputation and other relationships. That’s not necessarily a good thing, but it’s the truth. Thankfully, Mom didn’t seem to buy into Heechul’s prejudice against Sehun. I didn’t even want to know whether I would disregard her advice to chase after a boy, even one like Sehun.

Crossing her legs in her seat, Grandma asked, “Lei, is Sehun the one who kissed you in the dining room?”

My face burned at the memory of Baekhyun’s brief kiss. I wasn’t grateful to Grandma for bringing it up. How could she have forgotten Sehun’s face after all those years I spent showing her his photographs and detailing everything he ever meant to me?

Before I could recover from embarrassment long enough to shake my head in response, Lucas gasped, “Sehun kissed you in the dining room? When were you gonna tell me that?”

“Sehun didn’t kiss me in the dining room!” I fixed my flustered gaze on Lucas, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I hurriedly explained, “Baek did, but only because mistletoe was involved!”

Lucas raised a skeptical eyebrow, opening his mouth probably to remind me that the last time I said something like that, the boy hadn’t kissed me only because mistletoe was involved.

My eyes screwed shut as if that would blind me to the rather obvious fact that there was something bittersweet— but mostly sweet— in Baekhyun’s kiss because there was far too large of a gap between the present-tense version of myself who was in love with Sehun and the me of my dreams who was born to be the mirrored moon to Baekhyun’s burning sun. This was not the time to embrace the hope that I would get there someday, to the place where dreams and reality meet, to the place where the sun touches the moon. So I bit my tongue and comforted myself with the belief that there is a time for everything under the sun.

“Baek?” Heechul repeated through his frown.

Again, Mom tried to conceal her gasp with her hands. “Baekhyun kissed you?”

I said, “It wasn’t a real kiss!” but that didn’t feel very much like the truth. I hoped nobody saw through my claim as easily as I could.

“Oh,” Grandma nodded as if to distract me from the confusing spiral of Baekhyun-related thoughts. “So Sehun is the one who was heartbroken by the kiss?”

That easily, Grandma returned my attention to Sehun. Just by imagining that Sehun had been at all affected by that brief peck on my cheek, I jolted awake from every Baekhyun dream and found my footing in a shallow pool of remorse. It was fruitless to wish that the kiss hadn’t happened (especially since I had done nothing to provoke it). It was probably equally as fruitless to wish that I hadn’t been too focused on Mom’s moment of heartbreak to notice Sehun’s. Still, I did. A lot of my thoughts are fruitless.

“Oh, so he’s the jealous type too?” Heechul groaned. “This guy just has every perk, doesn’t he? You know, Lei, you’re not any better than the girls you always criticize on these shows—” he gestured wildly toward the television— “the ones who always overlook a perfectly nice guy like Baekhyun for some douchebag like—”

“Stop it!” My voice shattered as I screamed, rising to my feet and balling my fists at my sides. “Just stop it! I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me! I’m not going to sit here and listen to you misunderstand my favorite— my forever—” my chest heaved while I stuttered around the best way to describe Sehun— “the person I’ve loved for most of my life!”

Silence fell over the room. Everybody looked up at me with widened eyes because a.) I never raised my voice, b.) I never admitted to loving anyone or anything, and c.) I always had this rule about waiting until I was alone to shed tears.

I know I had broken that rule before in front of Sehun, especially when I was younger and more volatile, and I had sobbed into Lucas’s chest once or twice, and there was that time Changmin caught me in a brief fit of tears backstage, but Mom and Heechul— they were both so shocked by my outburst that they both stood as if to rush toward me.

Looking back, I wish I had allowed them to embrace me or dry my tears. I wanted to let them get close to me, but I guess I was too embarrassed. I guess I had not yet broken my longtime habit of running from overwhelming emotions.

I raced upstairs to my bedroom, thinking that if Donghae had been there like he was every past Christmas, he would have known what to say to diffuse the storm inside of me. Maybe he would have waited until I was alone in my room to gingerly knock on the door, sit by my side, watch the moon and stars with me through the window, and say everything that I needed to hear to smile again.

Closing the door behind myself, I admitted for the millionth time that I missed Donghae so much— too much. I hoped that I would be brave enough to tell him the next time our paths crossed. Speaking with Sehun assured me that that day would come sooner or later; I just hoped that we wouldn’t accumulate too much time apart because, really, I needed him then. Needing people is scary, I think, because you never realize how dependent you are until you’re alone.

I reached into Sehun’s pocket for my phone, somehow emboldened by the night’s twists and turns to take fate into my hands, somehow believing that I could bring our paths together on my own. Before I could dial Donghae’s number, though, I noticed the poster on my wall— the poster I hadn’t seen in two years— Sehun’s poster.

My phone fell back into my pocket. After I pulled the two halves of the mistletoe crown out of the pocket and set them next to the ribbon on my vanity, I tiptoed over to the poster. My heart pounded as if Sehun were really in my room, watching as I peeled the pink sticky note off of the poster’s face, laughing at the blush that spread across my face as I read:

“Don’t kiss this too much! It’s just a poster!” — Lucas

I guess I had to laugh at the memory of my childhood self rising onto her tiptoes to peck at the poster’s lips. I guess I had to squeal at the realization that Lucas had returned my box of memories. I guess there was no choice other than to jump onto my bed, all too eager to pull out its contents one by one.

I was surprised to find that the items collected no dust in the years they spent on the highest shelf of Lucas’s closet— which I couldn’t quite reach no matter how I strained— or wherever the hell he hid them. He must have meant it when he promised to take care of them. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Lucas always kept his word.

Fastening my bracelet on its rightful place around my wrist, I imagined how different life would have been had I known when I first wore it years ago that Sehun and I would eventually find our way onto the same path at the same time. I wondered how different life would have been if I had known when I first removed it that the bracelet wouldn’t be too heavy forever.

Of course, no warning could have prepared me for the first kiss by the piano, or the second one on the porch, or the third kiss in his car, or the fact that in the span of one night I would lose track of how many times his lips brushed against mine, but I— I don’t know. It’s not that I regretted the years of longing for him and dreaming about him. How could I regret something that made up most of my life?

All I know for certain is that if I could do it all again— if I could go back to the start, knowing how it all would end— I would take back every cruel word I said to him in those two years that I tried to hate him. I did regret all of that time. I still do. I make up for it every day.

Now, I think there is more strength in wearing a broken heart on your sleeve than hiding it behind a crumbling stone mask. Now, I know that no wound heals when left to fester in the dark.

Maybe Heechul knew that too. Maybe that’s why he turned the light on when he walked through my door without knocking. There was something like an apology on the tip of his tongue before his eyes fell on the box.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing.

Hesitantly, I answered, “Memories,” shielding Sehun’s pictures from Heechul’s eyes that, despite having softened considerably during his walk up the stairs, could have gone icy at any moment at the slightest provocation.

Heechul’s eyebrows shot up in an exaggerated expression of interest. “Oh?” He held out a hand. “Let me see.”

I shook my head. “Believe me: you don’t want to see him.”

I spoke quietly because I feared that we were on the brink of another fight— because I feared that I might have needed Heechul just as much as I needed Donghae— because I knew that I couldn’t have endured being at odds with him too.

More often than not, Heechul was a handful. He could trigger my migraine more quickly than anyone else I knew because he was loud, attention-seeking, and he had little (if any) concern for social decorum. In short, Heechul was annoying, but the very attributes that counted as flaws also counted as virtues. That made Heechul the most unique person I ever met.

Although he never expressly stated so and he was never inclined toward sickeningly sweet gestures, I never wondered whether Heechul loved me. It was evident, unspoken, embedded in my perception of the world.

I— I know that love isn’t supposed to be earned, but I think I have always been cripplingly afraid of losing it. That was probably my biggest flaw: biting my tongue, clenching my fists, packing ‘fruitless’ thoughts into boxes all in a desperate effort to cling to everything in my life that ever resembled love for the briefest second.

Still standing over me, Heechul softened his gaze. Maybe he saw my flaw and pitied me for it. “They’re pictures of that boy, aren’t they? The one you love?” We both reddened at that accurate description of Sehun.

“Yeah,” I whispered, moved by Heechul’s effort to control his temper and treat me like the piece of glass I had always been. “They’re pictures of Sehun.”

Heechul sat at the edge of my bed on the other side of the box and again held his hand out. That time, I trusted him with the photographs, but I watched anxiously as he flipped through them. “If you love him enough to collect all of these photocards, why did you have them packed away in some box?”

“I tried to grow out of him,” I admitted, tracing my thumb over the bracelet’s cotton candy charm.

Heechul’s head tilted as if to ask ‘Why?’ so I continued, “It’s exhausting to be in love with somebody who can’t love you. I thought it would make me strong if I could stop. I thought that if I never saw these things again, I would grow up, but I—”

Looking into the box to find that old My Melody keychain from my tenth birthday smiling at me, I sighed, “I must have been doomed from the start or something.”

“That’s a bleak outlook on love.” Heechul carefully placed the photocards back into the box and surveyed the other objects. “You aren’t doomed because you’re attracted to someone. It may not be easy or pain-free, but you don’t have to be with somebody just because you can’t stop loving him.”

“But I do want to be with him.” Drawing a deep breath, I tried to explain, “I— I know that you’ve only seen us together at our weakest moment, but I swear that Sehun is a good person. He’s the best person because he always tries to do the right thing, and he has always tried to guide me onto the best path even when we were lost in the dark. Most of the time, he’s almost inhumanly calm and patient, but right now he’s a little clumsy with his feelings because he never planned to date, and he probably never expected to love me, and—”

“Lei,” Heechul interrupted, nearly laughing at my lovesick rambling. “You don’t have to convince me that this guy deserves your heart. You’re 21, and you can go out with whoever you want, and collect photocards of whoever you want, and I— why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrugged my heavy shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want you to think that I’m a fool for some boy who doesn’t even love me. I guess when I love somebody, I want you to love them too.”

“Oh.” As Heechul scratched at the back of his neck, his eyes flickered away from mine. He cleared his throat. “That’s not going to be easy. I’ll try because I can see the little lights in your eyes when you talk about him, but I remember the tears that were in your eyes when he snatched your crown.”

“Oh,” I muttered, knowing that nothing I could have said would wipe that scene from Heechul’s memory.

Fidgeting, Heechul admitted, “I  know that you’ve always said that you would never date, but I always imagined that you would end up with someone who gives you crowns. I— maybe that doesn’t make sense.”

I picked at a loose thread on my quilt and fought the sudden urge to cry. “It makes sense.”

“And even if I tried to forget, Yesung would never let me.” Heechul rolled his eyes. “His bitching about the punk who stole our princess’s crown totally killed the party.”

Again, I mouthed, “Oh.”

Once he noticed that my eyes were glossy with tears, Heechul huffed, “I can’t handle all of these emotions. You and your mom are killing me tonight!” He fanned himself before declaring, “Fine! Fine, I’ll forgive that boy, but only because I think your mom is probably right about how young people act. She’s always right, damn it!”

“Really?” I couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll forgive Sehun?”

“Yeah,” Heechul grumbled, “but only because I remember this one time that your mom and I had a huge ass fight in public. I did something really, really stupid, so she slapped the shit out of me, and for a second there, I really wanted to slap the pink off of her lips—”

I cracked up at that completely unprecedented phrase, and Heechul cut his eyes at me and crossed his arms. “It’s not funny, Lei! It really hurt, and I had to walk around the drive-in with a handprint on my face!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, grinning as I remembered how Sehun helped me find Mom and Heechul when I got lost at the drive-in, how he let me hold his hand because I was afraid to walk in the dark, how he laughed at the voices I made up when translating the film into Korean.

“Anyway,” Heechul hummed, “the moral of my story is that anyone can do something rash out of character, so I understand. I get it. I’ll let your little boyfriend off the hook this time, but he needs to learn to control himself if he doesn’t want Yesung to kick his ass. Pass that along on your next midnight rendezvous.”

Too happy to point out that Sehun wasn’t technically my boyfriend, I nodded. “Alright, Heechul.”

“And you—” Heechul stood and started toward the door, beckoning me to follow him downstairs to resume the drama— “don’t forget that you deserve the world because I don’t want to have this talk again.”

#sehun fic #sehun fanfic #sehun texts #sehun social media au #sehun imagines #sehun imagine #sehun fluff #sehun angst #sehun drabble #sehun drabbles #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo texts #exo social media au #exo drabble #exo drabbles #exo imagine #exo imagines #exo fluff #exo angst #for you: stand by me #exo au #sehun au #kpop drabbles #kpop fic #kpop edit #kpop social media au #kpop fluff #kpop angst #lucas wong texts

[timeladyjamie]

The Battle of Self-Love with Josie & Dark Josie in Legacies 2x16

Welcome to another one of my meta’s, but the first one I’ve done for the Legacies fandom. 

I felt this one really had to be covered because the symbolism of what happens to Josie in this episode speaks not only to me, but many other people who struggle with self-love and their inner battles with themselves. So enjoy my ramblings. 

This is a very personal and deep one for me so I’m shedding my skin with this one and laying demons to rest. This meta also includes helpful tips to resources concerning the topic of Self-Love and Inner Mean Girls. 

Trigger warnings may be present. 

Dark Josie is Josie. They are the same person and as the Queen of Mean™ points out in previous episodes, she was created to help Josie survive. She was in a tough situation and had to help save her family/friends. Of course, as always, Josie makes the tough call and breaks the clock, taking all the Dark Magic into her. Sure, it makes her more powerful, but it also awakens all the darkness she keeps locked away inside her, pushing into a trunk, afraid to face it. At least everyone is safe though...or so they think. This is where the line “Don’t let it break” comes into play because the beast she held within is finally free, even if it seems things are finally back to normal. There is no running from the darkness within. 

Dark Josie points out multiple times that if it wasn’t for her, Josie wouldn’t survive. It all makes sense since she was created to help her do that exact thing...but the only way that Dark Josie thinks she can achieve this goal is by killing Josie herself (which is contradictory, but this is what our Inner Mean Girl’s do.) They tell you all the negative things about yourself. They try to drain you down, make you depressed, and convince you of their lies until you give up because they think it is the only way to help you survive. I know this from personal experience. I thought if I kept telling myself all these negative things that it would shield me and make me stronger...but it didn’t. All it did was start to destroy myself. I just didn’t realize it at first.

Dark Josie with her convincing lies and ways to win the battle makes Josie think she is stronger and invincible this way. Even when others point out that this isn’t Jo, she tells them to get use to it and accept it because this is who she is now; An entity full of nothing but rage, jealously, and bitterness that isn’t going to let anyone use her or abuse her ever again. If this is who she needs to be to protect herself, then so be it. Dark Josie even says she finds everything clearer now and breaks free from her prison. It’s the high of the lies. 

She is determined to go after her next target that makes her weak: Lizzie. With plans to overcome the trial of the merge and defeat her sister, nothing is going to stop Dark Josie, especially not MJ’s kindness or Hope Mikaelson who asks for the real Josie. 

Hope: Where’s Josie?

Dark Josie: I’m right here, silly.

Hope: The real Josie, our Josie.

Dark Josie: So you mean weak Josie. She’s gone. I thought I made that very clear.

Dark Josie doesn’t want them to have anything to do with Josie because what would they want to do with a weak, helpless, powerless girl that kept letting herself get hurt and used by others? Josie is gone and they need to deal with it, right? This is who she is now. While she is determined to prove to everyone that she is better and more powerful this way, Hope is determined to prove to Josie that she was strong all along. And this is one of the important moments because while our views of ourselves are obstructed and skewed, sometimes we need the reminder of who we truly are from someone else who knows us and won’t give up on us. This is Hope for Josie.

Hope: I know you think she is weak. But I know the truth: she’s strong. You’re strong! And you’re always there for your friends when they need you. So, please Jo, we really need you right now.

Dark Josie: Shut up! Everyone shut up!

Obviously this determination to not give up on the good inside her effects the hold Dark Josie has. For a moment the real Josie pops through before hiding back as Dark Josie takes control again. No, she can’t believe this because Josie doesn’t believe she was ever strong. She’s only strong as Dark Josie. The merge happens and Dark Josie thinks she has won...but there is someone who isn’t giving up on her, even if she has already given up on herself.

Hope goes into her subconscious which is a fairytale land produced by the simple black and white fairytales her mother would tell her of battles between good guys and bad guys. In this world Josie is a princess who sealed herself away with a sleeping spell to keep away the darkness, but she is also the said Darkness that is out to kill the Princess and destroy the kingdom. Once Josie is awakened and Dark Josie is aware, she confronts the girls.

Feeling she is unable to defeat the Evil Queen, Josie has a meaningful talk with Hope who gives her a wakeup call. 

Hope: We have to keep moving.

Josie: It doesn’t matter. We’re never going to get away from her.

Hope: Jo. While you’ve been trapped in here, she’s been rampaging in the real world. She even tried to Merge with Lizzie. 

Josie: Oh my god, is she okay?

Hope: For now. That’s why we have to stop her. 

Josie: She’s more powerful than I am. 

Hope: Jo, she is you- some part of you. You can control her somehow. Pretty messed up subconscious you got here by the way.

Josie: Are we surprised? My mom used to read us fairytales for bedtime stories. They were so calming. There was Good Guys and Bad Guys; very clear rules that you had to follow. It all made sense unlike my life. 

Hope: Well, this fairytale sucks.

Josie: It’s accurate. I’m either the powerful, petty bitch or the good, weak victim. 

Hope: That’s a story that you’re telling yourself. I mean, your subconscious made a fairytale that the good you is weak and the powerful you is evil. Tell yourself a different story.

Dark Josie shows up once again and Hope tries to tell her to change the story before being turned to stone. Josie runs for her life from herself, but realizes at this point there is no where else she can go.

The only thing she can do now is confront herself and the darkness within her that she kept trying to avoid. Cue that quote; “You can’t run from yourself.” Now, Josie must face the monster within her.

Dark Josie instantly takes to calling out Josie’s insecurities, pointing out all her flaws because she KNOWS how much it eats away at Josie. These are all the inner thoughts and feelings she’s kept buried inside her like a hurricane. 

She reminds Josie of her place and the reason why Dark Josie is here. 

Dark Josie: “This is what being strong looks like.” 

Hope: “That's a story that you're telling yourself. I mean, your subconscious made a fairytale that the good you is weak and the powerful you is evil. Tell yourself a different story.

Echoing back to Hope’s words, this is when the self-realization and awakening in Josie begins to play out. 

She realizes her mindset, Dark Josie’s mindset, is wrong. Josie begins to accept and face her own actions, knowing she was wrong, not only about her mindset on things, but especially her view towards herself. 

Josie didn’t need to become this dark version of herself in order to survive and be strong. There was never anything weak or powerless about Josie to begin with. She was always strong and incredible the way she was- others like Hope could see it, but Josie couldn’t. 

Dark Josie tries to silence this because she doesn’t want Josie having any power. She doesn’t want her waking up to the realization about herself because once you begin to awaken to the truth about your inner mean girl, that’s when she loses her hold over you - and she doesn’t want that happening.

Josie: I’m not afraid of you anymore...because I’m holding the axe.

Dark Josie: ((scoffs before realizing the axe is gone from her hands and now in Josies.))

Josie: ((smiles, holding the axe))

Dark Josie: I just bound you to this cabin. You’re trapped here forever.

Josie: I’m not trapped...because we’re not in the cabin anymore. ((They are now in the forest outside the castle.)) And if you use your magic against me, it hurts you too. ((Dark Josie is stripped of her magic.)) And most importantly, you’re not wearing armor anymore.

Josie begins to take her control over her inner mean girl, but I think one of the most important parts of when she does this is the kiss Josie gives her inner mean girl. BUT WHY? Granted, Josie has put an axe in her, but why should she be kind to the darkness within her after all it was doing to everyone, especially herself?

First off, you need to remember- your inner mean girl is you. Once you accept she is a problem that needs to be addressed, then you must address it. But not with ignoring her, or booting her away...but with kindness. She is a part of you that came into fruition in order to protect you from some sort of trauma or hurt. Honestly, she had the best intentions for you but took it completely overboard. This doesn’t mean you should give her any sliver of control, but it also doesn’t mean you should treat her without compassion. 

After all, compassion is what helps heal. 

And this is the step Josie takes next: laying her inner mean girl down with TLC

Josie: It’s over.

Dark Josie: *chuckles* It’ll never be over. As long as you have Black Magic in you, I will always find a way back.

Josie: We’ll see. *lays a kiss upon her forehead as Dark Josie falls asleep*

You’re inner mean girl will always be a part of you. She will always be inside you, ready to take to defense when you least expect it. There is no gettin rid of her...but you can at least control her by remembering her ways and knowing you always have the power to change the story despite what she may say. 

Another lovely thing I must point out before I get to the conclusion of this post is not only how important it is for you to realize the power you have over your inner mean girl and her ways to affect you, but the people around you who support you and never give up on you, even when you’ve given up on yourself.

Those people are absolute blessings and you can be one of them towards yourself and others too. 

I love the scene where after all of this, Alaric speaks to his daughter about what happened and they have this conversation:

Josie: Thank you for not giving up on me, even though I didn’t deserve it.

Alaric: You know, one of the many joys of being a father is getting to see you slowly figure out how much deserve, and one day you realize that what you deserve is to never be given up on. 

When we go through something traumatic or overwhelming, whether it be a friend that hurt you, a family member that rejected you, you feel used or abused, or something didn’t turn out the way you planned, we usually tend to be hard on ourselves for it. All these insecurities deep inside us begin to eat away and make a home for themselves, especially if we tend to avoid them or don’t acknowledge it. We start to turn into our own worst enemies because we believe we deserve all the shit we get in return. Then we start to lose sight of ourselves and who we are; what we’re capable. Sometimes we can become the very thing we swore to never become. 

The Battle between Dark Josie & Josie is an example of this.

 And you know what the moral of this story is? 

It’s okay. We are all human and we’ve all been through this or are currently going through it with our inner mean selves. 

But you can change the story because you have the power. So, tell yourself a different story.

Accept you have a inner mean self.

Figure out how they work and what type of inner meany they are

And realize you have the power to tell yourself a different story. 

It won’t be easy. It’s never easy, but you are capable of it. 

________________________________________________________________

A special thank you to my sources on this matter down below.:

And the Reform your Inner Mean Girl book by Amy Ahlers & Christine Arlyo. You can check out their website here and order the book which has a lot of helpful tips and helps you have more insight on how our Inner Mean Girls work. 

From another person facing the battle of Self-Love against my Inner Mean girl, I leave you this reminder. Till the next meta! 

- Jamie

#josie saltzman #legacies #self love #tw triggers #Jamie's Metas #inner battles

[death-himself]

Love is Dead—Chapter 5

Summary: Janus and Virgil come to a hesitant truce

Word Count: 1,467

Warnings: Talk of murder, Talk of death, 

previous next (AO3 Link)

It made no sense. He didn’t understand. Why was he here? How could he see him? Janus had never met a human who could see spirits before! Why him of all people?

The two stared, unblinking at one another, Janus attempting to find any sort of clue that that murderer recognized him. All he saw were eyes empty of emotion, still trying to process what he was seeing.

But then it clicked, and the empty eyes were filled with panic. “Oh fuck no!” He shouted, the markers falling to the ground as he sprinted out the door, shouting “Mom, get the banishing herbs and black salt!”

“Virgilius Angel Sanders, we are not doing this again!” His mom shouted back. Admittedly curious, Janus followed Virgil down the hall. Virgil noticed and cursed some more, running into his room, leaving the door wide open. Janus pressed his hand against the magical shield that Virgil had put up, peering in to see what the young murderer was doing.

He grabbed a spray bottle from the corner of his room, turning around and facing Janus with a now-determined look on his face. Virgil sprayed the water right at him; he was fully ready to laugh and watch the mist pass through him.

But then droplets touched his face, like bits of lava raining down. He was too startled at first to realize he was in pain. He had forgotten what pain felt like, after so long. Virgil sprayed him a second time, and that’s when it registered. He hissed, eyes squinting shut as he reeled back, floating away as the murderer began to follow him down the hall, that determined look still in his eyes.

“Leave or I’ll spray you again. Trust me, I’ll know if you decide to just hide.” He glared down at the teen. This teenager, this child, with the face of the man who killed him, was telling him, a full grown dangerous apparition what to do? He wasn’t having that.

The lights flickered around him, pictures and paintings floated up off the walls. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to aim it all at his murderer; consider it a bit of revenge for what he did.

But then Virgil sprayed him again. Everything dropped to the floor, the lightbulbs above them shattered, the glass over the pictures breaking on the ground.

“What was that?” Patton’s mom asked sternly. For a moment Virgil panicked.

“It was the ghost, Mom!” An audible sigh came from the living room, and the mother came over to see what the ruckus was. Seeing the shattered glass around him, she gave him a disappointed, clearly upset look. “Virgil—”

“I swear it was the ghost.”

“Virgil, this is the third time in a row.”

“But—”

“Three different houses, and you said they were all haunted!”

“Because they were! I mean the second one wasn’t, but it basically was.” The look in her eyes said that she had heard this all before and was trying to act like she hadn’t. With another sigh she gestured for him to follow her. “Come on, I’m making you some calming tea, okay?”

“But it’s right there! I can get it out!” Virgil pointed at Janus, who recovered enough from the burning spray to give the teen a victorious smug smirk.

“I’m sure it is, sweety, now come on. You can do your ghostbusting later.” Virgil sent a glare at Janus, and for a moment he looked exactly like the last thing Janus had seen before he died. Janus’s blood boiled; he needed to do something with that little murderer. He didn’t care if Virgil remembered who he was or not, that face alone was enough for him.

The reminder that he was Patton’s little brother was the only thing stopping him from outright killing the brat then and there. Patton’s little brother dying would make Patton sad, and he didn’t want that. So instead, he would have to resort to annoying the living hell out of him.

He followed Virgil into the kitchen, floating in the corner of his vision. Virgil tried to spray him, but then his mom took away his spray bottle with a simple “you’ll get this back after you’ve had your tea, young man.” The visible frustration on his face made Janus laugh, which only pissed him off even more.

Janus took a seat next to him at the dining table. His mom brought over two steaming hot cups of tea, both smelling strongly of lavender, and placed one in front of her son. “Has school been stressing you out?”

“Just the usual amount.” He responded bluntly, glaring at Janus as he took a long sip of his tea.

“Relationship troubles?”

“I’m not dating anyone, Mom.”

“Really? You seem to be getting really close to that friend of yours.”

“We’re not dating behind your back, Mom.”

“Okay, but if you were dating—”

“Mom!”

“Who is this friend of yours?” Janus asked with a grin. Virgil seemed ready to shout at him, before remembering he was the only one able to see him. That wouldn’t help convince his mom he was okay at all. The woman in question looked her son up and down, trying to piece together what could possibly be making him so tense.

“If there’s anything going on, you can tell me, okay?”

“I know.”

“Good. Now finish up your tea, it’s gonna get cold.” Virgil huffed, taking another sip.

“Your little exorcism attempt turned into a talk with your mother, how strange. This is why children shouldn’t be trying any of this.” The teen ignored him. “I could kill you if I wanted to. I hope you’re aware of that.” Virgil eyed his spray bottle, now sitting on the kitchen counter next to the tea kettle.

“Any spirit could come in and kill you at any time, so long as you're out of your room. The only thing protecting you from spirits coming in is me.” Janus earned a small glance, barely an indicator that he was being heard, but enough to know Virgil was confused. He gave him a sly smile.

“Oh, poor naive child. Are you not aware of the protection house spirits give? This is why your whole idea of “banishing” a spirit is completely idiotic. House spirits are the only thing protecting you.” Of course, Janus was making half of this up. He didn’t know a thing about other spirits or whether he could keep them out of his house or not. He had never met another, though, so he supposed it wasn’t too wild of a story to weave.

Virgil finished off his tea, washing out the cup and grabbing his spray bottle, saying a quick thanks to his mom before walking out into the hallway, beginning to clean up the broken glass.

“I’m the only protection someone as inexperienced as you has. If you were to successfully banish me...then what would you do?”

“You’re still a ghost, why wouldn’t I try and get you out of here?” Virgil spoke in a quiet voice, making sure his mom wouldn’t hear him talking to himself.

“Like I said, I provide protection.”

“I literally saw you writing in blood on Pat’s wall. I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you think I would’ve hurt one of your brothers by now?” At that he went quiet. Sure, there had been some really strange things happening, but never anything actually harmful. And he had to admit, Janus was the tamest ghost he had met so far. He huffed, brushing some glass shards onto his dust pan.

“Okay, fine. We can work something out, I guess.” He thought for a moment, eyeing Janus before grabbing his spray bottle. “But if you do anything I don’t like, you’re gettin’ the holy water.” Janus looked at the brownish-green tint of the herb-filled water in the bottle.

“That does not look like holy water in any way.”

“Shut up. I still don’t like you.”

“And I despise you. But I suppose we’ll have to find a way to work together again, won’t we Cain?”

“What?”

Janus hadn’t been able to keep down his curiosity. “Do you remember anything? What you did to me in this very house?” Virgil gave him a blank stare, before turning back to the glass on the ground.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t remember cornering me in the attic and brutally murdering me?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Janus hummed, satisfied enough with the teen’s confusion. Cain had never been a good liar, and he didn’t expect a reincarnated version of him to be either, if that is what this was.

“Very well then. Perhaps we’ll be able to get along after all.”

“I doubt that.”

“Once a pessimist, always a pessimist, Cain.”

Tagging: @rebelrewriter @arodynamic-enby @bullet-tothefeels

#sanders sides #moceit #janus sanders #virgil sanders #love is dead ghost au #ghost!janus #teen!Virgil

[axther]

and here I lay

though war may have been the only thing she had known, a young man from another reality lays her sword down for her. 

aka. Everyone knew Red wasn’t her real name. 

midoriya izuku/fem!reader 

Warnings: implied violence, implied bad parents, implied dabi is a todoroki (very faint), implied implying 

There were some days for Midoriya where things were normal. The classes at U.A. were held, Mineta, in some way, was punished for his behaviour, someone was up to shenanigans, and inevitably, Bakugou raged over something. 

But today was not one of those days. 

It started normally, of course. He woke up, and his mother talked about her plans for the day and how she wouldn’t be home until much later than usual. This, again, was nothing out of the ordinary. 

When Midoriya walked to school, there was nothing wrong either. He waved hello to one of the elderly couples that lived by him, saw a stray cat across the street, and made it to U.A. without incident. 

But as soon as he walked into Class 1-A, all hell broke loose. 

The moment he stepped in, he was greeted with the sight of all his classmates, and even Aizawa (though he stood more to the side) clustered around the middle-most desk. Several of the girls were laughing loudly, and as Midoriya made his way to the group, both Todoroki and Kaminari recoiled. 

“Dude! Watch out, Todoroki!” Kirishima barked, looking behind him and seeing Midoriya. “Yo, dude! Come check this out!” 

Midoriya walked next to Kirishima, looked over his shoulder, and baulked. 

Before him, and everyone else, was a young woman. She was stately yet rugged, with scars over her skin (that they could see), and satchels tied to her sides. Her shirt seemed to be made out of the skin of a scaled animal, but it was a snowy white and dropped down to her leggings. They, too, had a pattern, though it was more of an embedded, raised diamond pattern than actual colours. The only obvious weapon that she had on her was a sword, strapped to her back with a strap that went across her chest. Her boots had an absurd amount of buckles, and above it all, she had a red cloak with astrological designs on it. On her belt was a red mask, and it seemed to stare Midoriya. 

When Midoriya made himself known, she glanced at him and look away, only to take a double glance and stare at him with veiled and even enraged shock. 

“Whoa!” Midoriya gasped, watching as she eyed him up. “Who’re you?” 

The young woman said nothing and simply continued to glare at him. 

“She said that she was supposed to assassinate Prince Todoroki.” Kirishima snickered. “I don’t know where the prince part came from, but it kinda suits him.” 

“Yeah! That’s she, like, an executioner!” Kaminari added, only for Bakugou to cross his arms and raise his eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you knew that word, dunce. That’s a two-dollar word.” 

“I’m not an executioner,” The young woman hissed. It was the first time that Midoriya heard her talk, and it was rugged like she had a cold. “I’m a mercenary.” 

“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” Kaminari murmured, tilting his head. She stayed silent, rolling her eyes and going back to staring at the floor. 

“Hey, Mr Aizawa. What happened?” Midoriya looked over at the teacher, only to see him sigh and gesture to Ochako. Midoriya turned and looked at her, and she began chuckling nervously. 

“Well, I met her this morning, and she looked really...upset...at me…?” 

“You fucking sent me here, you witch.” The young woman hissed. Ochako paled. 

“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” She gave a pleading look at Midoriya. The young woman scoffed and crossed her arms. 

“What’s your name?” Midoriya asked. Kaminari nudged him. 

“She didn’t answer when we asked her-” 

“Red.” 

The rest of the room went silent, with Kaminari in mid-nudge as they all stared in shock. Midoriya froze. 

“Wait, what?” 

“The Masque of Red Death. Or merely Red.” She gestured vaguely to her cloak, then her mask. Midoriya blinked. 

“Oh. Like Edgar Allan Poe?”  

“Who?” Red frowned, clearly not enjoying not being in the know. 

“No one!” Midoriya yelped, lifting his hands so the palms were facing her. “Don’t worry.” 

She glowered, not convinced, but accepted his answer none the less. Ochako clapped her hands. 

“Nice to meet you, Red! I’m Ochako!” Ochako’s smile was clearly forced, but she made the effort when everyone else was just mystified. 

“And I’m Kirishima! The sword’s super manly!” 

“I’m Midoriya…” 

Gradually, stemming from Ochako, everyone introduced themselves, but Red didn’t seem to loosen up in the slightest. 

“Now that that’s all wrapped up,” Aizawa mumbled from behind them all. Midoriya jumped, forgetting completely that he was there. “I’m going to take her to the Principal. You did good, Uraraka.” 

“Yessir!” Ochako saluted, grinning, before Aizawa made a gesture for Red to follow him. She rose with a sigh, and Midoriya realised that she was taller than most of the students. She looked both older and younger, too, like someone who had seen too much too soon. 

Red followed Aizawa and the two disappeared past the door, and gossip began immediately.  

“Ochako, you said that you just...found her on the sidewalk?” 

“She’s hot!” 

“Do you think she’ll actually go after Todoroki?” 

“Her clothes were kinda cool…” 

“She was really hot!” 

“I don’t think so, if she was gonna kill him she woulda’ done it.” 

“The sword was engraved on the handle, and it looked like it had some European language on it. What’d’ ya think it means?” 

“Red can’t be her real name.” 

“I think she had star stuff on her coat.” 

Midoriya felt his head spin with all the chatter at once until Iida formed a knife-hand and began shouting over everyone. 

“All of you! Despite Mr Aizawa being out, we should still return to our representative seats and wait until he returns!” 

Midoriya nodded and began shuffling to his seat, feeling oddly burdened like he just received the weight of the world on his shoulders. Red was familiar, vaguely so, like they had once met before. 

He shook it off, sat down, and thought no more. 

Midoriya assumed that the strange things for the day were over. 

He assumed that he would go home, and the next day would bring something else. But when Aizawa stood with Red in front of the Training Grounds, waiting for Present Mic to let the class out, he felt nervous. 

“Mr Aizawa, what’s going on?” Momo stepped before the entire crowd, her hands in front of her and her brows furrowed. 

“I won’t sugarcoat it. She needs somewhere to stay for the weekend.” Aizawa looked down, either ashamed or bothered. “Nezu doesn’t want her on the school grounds, as he’d be on a business trip and the only staff left would be civilians. Since you all have shown the capacity of protecting yourselves as well as others, he and several others agreed that one of you could take her in until Monday.” 

There was a shift in the mood, one of tension and anxiety. Midoriya saw Ochako blanch out of the corner of his eye.  He looked over at Red, who stood with her arms crossed and a look of irritation on her face. He realised that standing next to Aizawa she was towering, almost as tall (if not taller) than him. 

“Wh-What? Even though we have no idea of what she’s capable of?” Kaminiari near-shrieked, his hands up in confused fear. Red’s eye twitched. 

“That’s something that, as heroes, you have to adapt to. She’s essentially on house arrest once someone takes her in, so if she steps a toe out of line, you can call someone and we can take her away.” 

There was a reassuring mumble across the crowd, and they all turned into each other into a group talk. 

“I think Todoroki’s out of the question,” Tsuyu mumbled, a finger on her lower lip. “Since Red already admitted that she was hired to kill him, or a version of him, so it’d be almost insulting to pit him with her.” 

“I agree,” Midoriya nodded. “And we have to take into account housing, food, and parents.” 

“True, true.” Iida crossed his arms and nodded, too. 

“I’ll take her in!” Mineta jumped with a raised hand, but Jirou sent an ear jack to smack him down. “Absolutely not.” She growled. “Red doesn’t need that torture.” 

“Agreed. Since I found her, I could take care of her.” Ochako looked vaguely afraid but took the leap. “Mom and Dad would probably be fine with it.” 

“Nah!” Kirishima clapped Ochako on the back. “Sorry, dude, but she’s already kinda got something against you. Don’t want her gettin’ ya behind our backs!” 

“Yikes.” Mina tittered. The conversation began fading out as Midoriya turned over to look at Red, watching her glare at the ground. The feeling of familiarity returned, and like a spell, Midoriya felt a rush. 

“I can take her in.” 

All the chatter came to an abrupt halt. Midoriya felt all eyes on him, and when he realised he was staring at Red, he noticed that she was watching him, too, with a shuttered curiosity. 

“Wait, what?” Ochako blinked owlishly. 

“I can, uh…” Midoriya felt his nerves get to him, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his head. “Well, my mom would definitely be fine with it! And she was talking about how she always makes extra food…!” 

“Wow, Midoryia! You’re really brave!” Tooru presumably clapped her hands, Mina, Koda, and Ochako joining soon after. 

“Thanks for taking one for the team!” 

“You’re a real one!” 

“Lucky…” 

Midoriya broke away from the group and approached Aizawa and Red. The teacher looked satisfied. 

“The info, in case you’ll need help, will be sent to your phone. Have fun.” Aizawa waved and began walking away, leaving Midoriya to baulk and Red to watch him go. 

“That was quick,” Red muttered. She looked down to Midoriya, and he stared back up at her, and the rest of the class watched. 

“So…” Midoriya hesitated. “I’m gonna...we can head...go?” 

Red nodded. “Okay.” 

Midoriya turned, stiff as a board with the whole of 1-A parting for him, and began plodding towards the exit. Red followed, staying behind him at a slow pace, considering how much taller she was to him. 

The walk back to Midoriya’s home was tense, filled with awkward silence and Red’s near soundless steps. People stared at her when they passed and murmurs seemed to follow them. Red seemed unfazed the entire time, but Midoriya knew that she was completely on edge. 

“You’re muttering,” Red broke through Midoriya’s thoughts and he jumped. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you! It’s just a habit-” 

“I don’t care. It’s just better that you’re aware.” Red looked the other way, eyeing a stoplight. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before Midoriya spoke up. 

“This all probably strange to you. It might even be scary…” 

“I’m not scared.” Red glowered down at Midoriya. “It would take much, much more to scare me.” 

“Oh.” Midoriya blinked. “Okay.” 

Red let out a huff, crossing her arms again and making the sword strap wobble a bit. Midoriya realised that she still had her sword and stared at the hilt. In it was engraved oleth ei comokh, something that didn’t seem to be a European language like Sero thought. It seemed more along the lines of an anglicised Islamic language, and Midoriya didn’t realise he was lagging until Red stopped abruptly and Midoriya ran into her back. 

“Which way?” Red looked between two roads and Midoriya rubbed his nose. 

“Jeez... “ He looked up and pointed to their right. “This way, sorry…” 

Red let out a ‘hrm’ of acceptance before marching on. “You were staring at my sword.” 

Midoriya flushed bright red, waving his hands about, trying to make an excuse. 

“Well, I mean, most people these days don’t really have…! Except for Tokoyami but he’s not really...not that I think it’s weird! I don’t mean to insult you-!” 

“You’re muttering, again.” She glanced at him, but this time it wasn’t a glare. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. It’s not common for women to have blades where I’m from.” 

“Wait, really?” Midoriya was now shoulder to shoulder (or neck to shoulder) with Red, intrigued. 

“Yes. Most women use magic if they must fight at all.” 

“That’s so...it doesn’t make sense.” Midoriya’s brow furrowed. 

“No?” Red asked, looking surprised. 

“It’s essentially limiting half of your fighting force, or workforce. I don’t know anything about magic in your world, but,” Midoriya paused, walking in front of Red so he could ascend the stairs of his apartment complex. “All the stuff here has drawbacks. So magic would probably be flawed, right?” 

“I suppose.” Red followed Midoriya into his house, ducking so she didn’t hit her head on the doorframe. “It’s got a wide range of impact, so you have to be careful not to hit allies. While it does take energy drawing from your spirit, it’s useful if you work alone.” 

“You work alone?” Midoriya took off his shoes, and Red watched him before doing the same. 

“Always.” 

The solemn note made Midoriya wince before he walked into the living room. 

“You’d probably need to sleep on the couch…” He picked up a pillow and fluffed it out. Red patted it awkwardly, before nodding. 

“I can do that. I’ve slept in worse.” She nodded, before shedding her cloak. She draped it over the edge of the couch, along with her sword, and turned to Midoriya. 

“What are the rules?” She said, deadpan.

“What?” Midoriya recoiled. 

“I may be a murderer, but I’m a guest in your house. What are the rules?” 

“O-Oh...I guess...the obvious stuff? Don’t, like, burn stuff down...I mean, you can…”

“Don’t cause any house damage.” 

“Yeah. Oh!” Midoriya jumped. “I need to show you how to use the bathroom.” 

“The what?” 

Midoriya, after having to explain the technology of showers, the nuances of washing her hands, and the fact that the toilet wouldn’t flush her away too, sat on the couch with a hefty sigh. Turns out that once Red was sure she wouldn’t be killed, she did need to use the bathroom, so for the moment, Midoriya was alone. 

He eyed the sword, looking at the inscription again. It didn’t look Arabic or Islamic, but something completely different. He traced his finger over it, lightly, before grabbing the handle. A part of him felt almost called to it, like something just beyond his reach would answer everything. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” 

Midoriya nearly shot into the air at the sound of Red’s voice. He spun around to see Red standing behind him, her face completely blank. 

“I-I’m sorry!” 

“It’s fine. I don’t blame you. Go on, pull ‘er out.” 

As Midoriya tugged she moved around the side of the couch and sat, watching him hesitate.

“Don’t be scared. She won’t come flying out.” Red watched him, cautiously smiling. “Go on.” 

Midoriya pulled, and the sheath clattered to the ground. His eyes widened when he realised that the blade was a shiny black, with silver lettering on both sides. 

“What does it say?” 

Red gently took the sword on him, pointing at the hilt. “She is called Mornië Hyando. Dark Cleaver. Oleth ei comokh, that means ‘above all, glory’, in old Orcish. On this side,” She turned Mornië Hyando over and dragged her finger lightly over the inscription. “Váre- ni, which is ‘protect’, and -o i mornië, “(She turned the sword over again, pronouncing -o i as oh yea) ”and that is ‘from darkness’.” 

“Then...is mornië mean...dark? Darkness?” 

“Yes.” Red gave another small smile. “You learn fast.” 

Midoriya looked down, a blush overtaking him. “Thanks.” 

The moment was quiet, with Red gently rubbing the blade of Mornië Hyando, and Midoriya watching her out of the corner of his eye. He noticed that she had little scars over her face, too, though they were shallower than the ones like maybe an animal tried scratching her and she pulled away. He began leaning in, trying to get a better look, and Red glanced at him. She turned, looking at him dead in the eye, but he didn’t stop. He kept on leaning like he was a magnet and she was the South Pole. They had gotten close enough that he could feel her breath.

And then, Midoriya heard a gasp. 

He flung himself away from Red fast enough that his head spun and looked over at his mother. Inko had dropped a handful of grocery bags and held her hands to her mouth in shock, eyes wide and blinking fast.

“I...Izuku...who…” She gasped again, clapping her hands and grinning. “Izuku, is this your girlfriend?!” 

“N-No-no-no-no-!” Midoriya tried telling his mother otherwise, but the woman was too enraptured with the concept to listen. She hustled over to Red and began gently holding her face, observing. 

“Oh my! Izuku, you should have brought her sooner! She looks downright famished! Oh, but you’re very pretty, miss! What’s your name? Are you a cosplayer? How did you and Izuku meet? How long have you been together?” 

Midoriya expected Red to glare, or to pry Inko’s hands off of her, but instead, she gave a soft smile. 

“You can call me Red.” She said it in almost a whisper, like in reverence, and Inko clapped again.

“Oh, look at me, acting like a grandma! I’ll go start cooking!” She gave a not-so discreet wave to Midoriya, and then a thumbs up. She shuffled away, humming, and Red stood a little straighter from having bowed to Inko could touch her. 

“Thank you...for not trying to...I mean, I can tell her we aren’t…” 

“No,” Red said, watching Inko pull-down pans and pull out pork cutlet. “She looks happy. I will not be here long, anyway.” 

“Oh.” Midoriya looked to the side, blushing harder than before. “Okay.” 

Red said nothing but marched to the kitchen, holding out a hand. “I can help.” 

Inko let out a giddy giggle. “Nonsense! Just chat with me! I’m so happy! If I may say, between me and you,” Inko leaned in, lowering her voice. “I was beginning to get worried that Izuku would never find a girl! Or a boy. I wouldn’t judge.” 

“Mom!” 

Inko was right about Red being hungry. 

Midoriya watched Red wolf down the katsudon, and then get four more bowls afterwards. Inko had no problems with it, and instead cheered that she had never seen anyone so excited to eat before. She, clearly, was flattered, but Midoriya had other concerns. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Midoriya hissed from across the table when Inko had left in order to get a dessert she had been saving. “You put those away in what? Fifteen minutes?” 

“It’s been...a week? Two?” Red continued eating. “I don’t know.” 

Midoriya sighed, sitting back in his chair in both reverence and disbelief. “Wow…” 

“Plus, your mother makes an excellent bird.” 

“Oh, thank you!” Inko walked back in, a happy flush on her face. “You are such a sweetheart, even though you look so mean! No offence meant!” 

“None taken.” Red picked at the last of rice on the bowl, trying to get them onto her chopsticks. 

“Midoriya, wherever did you meet her?” 

Midoriya faltered. “Uh…” 

“Children,” Red answered in a snap. “We saw each other a lot, growing up, though I never really...met you.” 

“What?” Inko gasped. “Wh-how?” 

“He and I went to the same park. And now…” She glanced at Midoriya. “We met at the academy.” 

“That’s wonderful! Childhood sweethearts!” Inko wiggled in her seat, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Tell me more! What about your parents?” 

Red faltered, her good mood making way for an uncomfortable look. “I…” 

“Oh.” Inko froze for a second. “Forget I asked. How about your quirk? Unless you don’t have one…” 

“A...quirk…” Again, Red faltered, though it was more out of thought. This time, though, Midoriya swooped in. 

“She can use magic! Like elemental spells!” 

“What?” Inko gasped, impressed. “That’s amazing! Could you show us?” 

Midoriya blanched. “I don’t think-” 

Before he could finish, Red had her entire arm swathed in flames. It reached out and tried to lick at the table, but Red would clench her fist and it would go back her arm. Inko let out a little yelp before Red put it out. Her arm was fine, with the exception of a little bit of smoke. 

“Wow!” Inko cheered. “That was wonderful! For a moment, I thought all of you was on fire and I got really scared!” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be!” Inko nodded, noticing that Midoriya looked as though he had his soul ripped from his body. “Well, are planning to spend the night?” 

“Oh,” Red muttered. “I hoped so, but if it’s inconvenient…” 

“Not at all! I assume you and Izuku are sharing his bed?” 

Midoriya choked on his own spit, loudly, and Red raised her eyebrows. 

“I was told the couch-” 

“The couch?” Inko looked like she had just been told that her son was the successor to an all-powerful superhero and had fought several villains, inherited a quirk, had to fight for his life on a daily basis, and had just taken in a confessed murderer. “Absolutely not!”  

“Huh?” Red watched as Inko rose and began marching to the couch. She picked up Red’s sword and cloak, huffing the entire time. 

“You are our guest and Izuku’s girlfriend! I trust you won’t make me a grandma too early.” 

“Mom!” Midoriya looked like he was ready to die, his face bright red and his head in his hands. Red glanced between the two of them. “She said it was fine, that she would stay on the couch…” 

“Nope!” Inko handed Red her sword and cloak. “Go on and put your things in his room, and make yourself comfortable.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Red nodded and walked stiffly over to the bedroom that Inko had pointed at. Midoriya jumped up. 

“Then let me pick up a bit first!” He opened the door before Red could reach it and began throwing miscellaneous clothes, training equipment, and notebooks into whatever drawers he could reach. Red poked her head in, and laid eyes on the plethora of All Might paraphernalia. Her face fell into a glower, eyes darkening. Midoriya raised an eyebrow in the middle of folding a shirt that was titled ‘shirt’. 

“What’s wrong?” He watched her shake her head with a hushed growl. It was clear she was bothered and Midoriya felt disappointed. He had considered her to be opening up, what, with Red being so polite to his mother and trying to please Inko. He put the shirt away and nodded. 

“Well, you can talk to me about anything, if you need to! Even though the chances are you won’t be here very long, I can still try to make it as pleasant as possible!” 

“Hm,” Red still seemed distracted, staring at a limited edition All Might figurine,  with her head tilting in Midoriya’s direction but her eyes having remaining glued to All Might’s brilliant grin. “Thank you.” 

“Any time!” Midoriya chirped, finishing up with the cleaning with a feeling of domesticity in his heart. Inko knocked lightly on the door and it swung open, having never been properly closed in the first place. She had an almost sly grin on her face, but it soon faded with a genuine one once she glanced at Red. 

“Do you have everything you need? Extra blankets, pillows?” 

Red began shaking her head and Midoriya piped up. 

“We’re fine here, I think. Is there anything that you can think of that you need?” 

Red finally broke her eye from the posters and figurines and looked at Inko, clearly distracted. 

“N...no. I don’t think so.” She blinked a couple of times, looking almost stunned. “Thank you.” 

“Of course! I’m going to bed, you two!” She waved, shutting the door and humming as she left. YN placed her things next to the door and watched as Midoriya sat on the bed and let out a nervous huff. 

“So...I don’t know how you want to work this...I doubt that you want to share the same bed as me, so one of us would have to sleep on the floor. Not that I’m against sharing the bed with you, I’m fine with it, it’s just a matter of your comfort and making sure that you actually get some good sleep. I can find my sleeping bag but it might take me a moment, and-” 

“You’re muttering again.” Red smiled. This time, it was almost sad, with something that looked painfully like regret in her eyes. Midoriya faltered. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you…” 

“No. You didn’t. I can share the bed with you.” 

Midoriya flushed but choked it down for the sake of his emotional wellbeing. If you poked fun at why he looked like a strawberry, then surely, he would burst.

“Okay!” He squeaked. “I can, uh, give you some clothes to change into, if you want.” 

“That’s not necessary.” At once, Red began lifting the animal scale shirt, or what Midoriya had assumed to be a shirt, and he let out a yelp. He looked away before realising that what little he had seen wasn’t skin and that it was more of a vest than anything else. He glanced back and saw that Red was in a loose white undershirt, with stitching at the top that gave her some breathing room. She loosened the sleeves and gave Midoriya a look. 

“Do you plan to sleep in that? I can turn around.” 

Midoriya snapped to attention and nodded. “Yes, please!” 

Red, as promised, turned, and Midoriya began changing into his pyjamas in record pace. Granted, they were only a pair of shorts and another shirt that read ‘shirt’ on it, but it was still enough that Midoriya felt a little self-conscious. 

“I’m done!” He piped, turning around with a little pat at his sides. Red didn’t so much as glance at him before turning around and planting herself into the bed. She laid on her front with her arms in front like a princess, and a yawn overtook her. 

“Alright. Good night.”  

Her eyes shut and she looked as though she passed out as soon as her head touched the pillow. Midoriya stood still for a second in surprise before shutting off the light and getting into the bed himself. 

Sharing the bed was a new experience, Midoriya decided. Red was built, so no matter what, he felt her next to him. It felt almost suffocating and he prayed that nothing embarrassing would happen while he was asleep. 

Red murmured something and he glanced over. She was muttering in her sleep before stopping and letting out a mix between a sigh and a snore. 

Midoriya stared at Red, watching her breathe. It felt strange that she looked so peaceful, but even in her sleep, her brows were furrowed. Part of Midoriya felt his heart swell. Something about Red was so familiar, so close, that he felt like he could touch it. 

“Stop staring.” She murmured. Midoriya jumped, letting out a squeak and turning on his back. 

“S-Sorry! I didn’t think…” 

“I know you didn’t. You don’t.” 

Midoriya paused from his stammers. “What?” 

Red fell silent again. She looked uncomfortable like she said too much without meaning to. 

“It’s nothing. Go to sleep.” She turned over, but Midoriya wasn’t having it. 

“Wait, what did that mean? You…” 

Then, it clicked. 

“What’s your name?” Midoriya said, stern. “You...I know you.” 

“No, you don’t.” Red sounded panicked like everything was crumbling around her. “Go to bed.” 

“Red, what’s your name?” Midoriya was never forceful, but he had a hand on her shoulder and raised his voice. Red was silent, and for a minute, Midoriya thought she wouldn’t respond. He let go, dejected. 

“YN.” Red whimpered. She sounded almost pathetic like she was going to cry. “My name is YN.” 

Midoriya sat up in bed, heart racing from the confession. “You’re-!” 

“We grew up together. Kids, you know.” She whispered. Midoriya realised that she was, indeed, crying. There was a pang in his heart he couldn’t quite explain. “Then one day, a knight-king came into town. A legendary one. And the next week, you were gone. I was so sure that you died…and I hated him for it.” 

She turned over and look Midoriya in the eye. He laid back down, worry in his brow, and his hand over hers. 

“I wanted revenge. I loved you, then. So this is what I became. I took jobs that no man would do, fought and burned and killed. I made deals with fallen princes, necromancers, vampires. I rose in the ranks. I became as legendary as the knight that took you away. One day, I got the order to kill the crown prince of the Todoroki dynasty. I went to, and there...I found you there. You, and a witch, and a knight and a dragon master. I didn’t know what to do.” 

YN traced over his hand, making shapes that Midoriya wanted to remember forever. She seemed to be in another world, eyes glassy and distant. 

“The witch got to me. I think she might have killed me, but I heard you yelling. And then I woke up with her, the witch, over me, in a world of magic unlike any other I had ever known, with horseless carriages and towers that conquered the skies.”  

“Ochako. She…” Midoriya looked down, back to their hands. “She meant well.” 

“I...I can only hope so. I will admit,” YN let out a forlorn chuckle. “I was terrified. I had no idea what anything was. I felt...weak. And I hadn’t felt so weak since I realised you weren’t coming back.” 

“I’m sorry…” Midoriya mumbled, feeling his own tears surface. “I should’ve talked to you. Both versions. The...other me, and me, me.” 

“No. I...I was…” She faltered. “I don’t know. I should’ve been sensible. Rational.” 

“No!” Midoriya yelped, before clapping a hand over his mouth and hoping his mother didn’t hear. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay.” YN gave a small, sad smile. “Go on.” 

“We were kids. I should’ve...I dunno, texted you? Sent you a letter? Kept contact?” 

“That would’ve certainly been preferable.” YN smiled, happier this time. “In a way, I’m glad the witch sent me. It...it must’ve been fate.” 

“Fate.” Midoriya whispered. Quite suddenly, his breathing felt heavy, and the moonlight hit YN just right. She looked at him, past her eyelashes, and it was as though he could see through all the layers of her eyes. His eyes trailed down, towards her lips. “Fate,” He muttered again, not tearing his eyes away. 

And then, he leaned in. 

Their lips met, and it felt...it didn’t feel necessarily incredible, like the stuff he would hear in the dramas that Inko would watch. But it was like waking up in the morning and not feeling tired, just content. It was like the last piece of a puzzle that you only began recently; a quiet relief, a sweet satisfaction. 

When they both pulled back, Midoriya felt his chest swell and he gasped a little bit. YN was smiling again, and her eyes seemed to be glittering. 

“Fate, huh?” YN gave a sweet peck to Midoriya’s forehead, and he closed his eyes. 

“Mhm.” Midoriya nodded. 

“You know, in that white room…” 

“The bathroom?” Midoriya snorted, opening his eyes again. 

“Yeah. That. In there, I kept on telling myself that I...I had...I kept on telling myself that I had to talk to you. That...that I had to take what I could while I was here.” 

“What do you mean?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow, taking his hand across her cheek, tracing his thumb over a scar. 

“I...I don’t know what it’s going to be like when I go back. If I go back. Would he...would you...remember this? What would happen? Would it all...just go back to what it was?” Her eyes flickered between looking at the comforter and being forlorn, and looking at Midoriya and seeming almost gently euphoric. 

“I don’t think it will.” Midoriya didn’t know where the confidence came from but he felt sure. 

“What makes you think that?” YN asked. She didn’t seem to be condemning it as much as being genuinely curious. 

“I don’t know. I mean…” Midoriya was silent for a moment, thinking. “If you are here, then maybe the other you, the one that I knew...maybe she’s there. And that you and I are having the same conversation in...what, a tavern?” 

YN snorted. “Absolutely not. I’m wanted in thirteen kingdoms. Any tavern goer would sell me out for a strip of leather.” 

“Seriously?” Midoriya chortled. “Then you tell me where.” 

“Mmm. Probably in the woods somewhere. Under the stars.” YN huddled in a bit closer to Midoriya. “And the others...the knight, you know, that I told you about...they’re probably seven yards away, ready to behead me at any moment.” 

“I hope not!” Midoriya smiled. “But when you go back, are you gonna try to..I dunno? Talk to the other me?” 

“Yeah. I mean, if a different version of you can listen to me, then surely, the version that I genuinely grew up with probably could.” YN smiled. “Yeah.” 

“Are you still gonna go after Todoroki?” 

“I…” YN faltered, her face falling. “I don’t know. I can try. But assassinations...they aren’t something you can just waltz away. If you take one on and then pull back, it gets you killed.” 

Midoriya frowned. “We can help you.” 

“I know.” YN leaned in and nuzzled him. “I know.” 

“And if you stay here, then there’s no harm done. You can start new.” 

“I could.” YN blinked. “A part of me hopes to stay. But I’ve come so far. Though it’s with dirt on my hands and blood on my blade, it’s my own legacy. When I die, it’s the only thing I’ll be remembered by. I don’t want to abandon it.” 

Midoriya sighed. “And your parents…” 

YN glowered. “They can fucking rot.” 

“Here, I know they weren’t really around. But I don’t know if it was different back where you’re from, or if maybe it’s the same.” 

YN fell silent, trying to find words. “You were right. They weren’t around. They never were. But when they came to beg for money, they always said they were. And they were so full of shit.” 

YN had stopped looking at Midoriya entirely, and he realised that she had bore herself to him more in the last ten minutes than probably both times she had met him. Midoriya wrapped his hands around YN’s shoulders and pulled her close into a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. YN sighed. 

“It’s not your fault.” She hugged him back, and if Midoriya didn’t know any better, he’d say she was crying again. 

“It never was.” 

The next morning, Midoriya woke to YN staring at the ceiling.

She had her arms folded in front of her and looked like a corpse, but she occasionally blinked. When he shifted a bit, she glanced over, and her face softened into a smile. 

“Good morning.” 

“Hey.” Midoriya nearly stuttered but caught himself. She looked the same as she did the night before, except that she wasn’t a fraction as guarded as she was before. 

“You spoke in your sleep. Something about being a hero, and chairs.” She chuckled. “It was funny.” 

“Wait, seriously? I didn’t know that I…” Midoriya was about to talk about his sleeping habits when his phone went off. They both glanced over, and Midoriya realised that it was Todoroki. 

“Hello?” Midoriya sat up and held the phone to his ear. 

“Midoriya. There’s two of you.” Todoroki said in a monotonous tone. There was yelling in the background, and Midoriya winced a bit. “He’s asking for Red.” 

Midoriya glanced at YN. “Wait, what?” 

“He’s there. Or, you’re there. And so is Iida, and Uraraka and Bakugou.” Todoroki paused. “We’re in the dorms.” 

Midoriya looked at YN and covered the mic of the phone. “The other me. He’s at U.A. He’s looking for you.” 

YN’s eyes went wide and mingled nervousness and fear was written all across her face. 

“Okay,” She whimpered. 

“We’ll be there soon!” 

“Alright.” 

Todoroki hung up, and Midoriya slid out of the bed with a stretch. YN rose, too, but it was more solemn and she made a beeline for Mornië Hyando and her cloak. 

“Okay!” Midoriya put on a change of clothes, noting that YN had turned to face a corner like she was in the Blair Witch Project. “We need to get to U.A. as soon as possible, and from there on out, I’m pretty sure that they’ll take you home.” Midoriya walked over to her and she turned slowly to face him. 

“Alright. And if not…?” 

Midoriya hesitated. Ever since they had the heart to heart, a part of him wanted YN to stay. He had no idea if his world’s YN wanted anything to do with him, much less share the same bed and kiss him. He might never get to feel this again, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give it up. “Then you can stay with me again.” 

YN nodded but said nothing more. She pulled the door open and peered out. 

“I don’t think your mother’s here.” 

“She usually isn’t,” Midoriya walked past YN and went straight for the door, digging out his shoes and slipping them on. “She has work really early.” 

“Ah.” YN nodded, following Midoriya suit and getting her own boots on. “Good for her.” 

Midoriya pulled open the door and held it open for YN, extending an arm when she let out a little laugh. 

“Thank you, sir.” She gave a ghost of a kiss to the top of his head, and he straightened with a bright red blush. 

“No problem!” He had a strange smile on his face that seemed to curve into a wobbly ‘v’, but he skipped down the stairs alongside YN. Their hands brushed occasionally, and Midoriya would glance down and back up at YN’s profile. The last time he walked with her, she was glaring at anything that would so much as move, but this time, she seemed to be filled with a gentle curiosity. At one point, she blushed an embarrassed red and asked what stoplights were, and once she knew, she would almost act like a child, with how obedient she was with not going and even glaring at those that disregarded the light. 

“They’re going to get themselves killed.” She hissed when a student narrowly dodged getting hit by a Ram with an American flag on the back.  

“I mean, it’s the risk they have to take, I guess.” He shrugged. “It’s not like it’s really illegal.” 

“Hm.” YN crossed her arms. “Don’t do it. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

Midoriya’s eyes went wide, a flush taking over his face as he looked up at her. “Okay,” He squeaked. 

“Mhm. Good.” YN let her arms fall and held Midoriya’s hand. He nearly jumped out of his skin, looking rapidly between their hands and YN. 

“The light’s ready.” YN began marching across the road, and Midoriya stumbled alongside her. Some people stared and a group of middle school girls even giggled a bit. But then the entire time, Midoriya felt too preoccupied trying not to let his grin split his face into two. While he walked, he swayed a little bit back and forth, like an Animal Crossing character. 

“You’re certainly happy.” YN gave an actual, full grin at the sight of Midoriya’s own smile, and he felt his heart swell. 

“I mean, I’ve got a really c-cute girl..fr…friend...” He tripped over his words, trying to not die when he let them out when YN titled her head. 

“What’s a girlfriend?” 

Midoriya’s heart stopped beating. “What?” 

“What’s a girlfriend? I thought we were courting.” 

Midoriya let out a hefty sigh of relief. “Yeah. That’s what it is.” 

“Ah.” YN nodded, seeming satisfied with the information. “That when you are my girlfriend, too. It’s a bit odd, calling you a girlfriend, but I suppose the nuances of this world can’t be helped.” 

Midoriya choked. “No, no, no, I’m your boyfriend. Because, you know, I’m a boy.” 

“Ah!” YN raised her eyebrows. “That makes much more sense.”  

Midoriya looked at the ground before taking a deep breath. “Are you happy?” 

YN was silent for more than a moment, mulling it over. “I don’t know.” “Huh?” Midoriya felt a bit of fear creep up in his throat. “Why?” 

“I’ve spent so long just...wanting a reason to hate. I found myself consumed, like I was hiding in a vast, unnameable fear. God was above me, hell was below me, and I had to outrun both. And yet, it was like I was running in two directions at once. One, from what would eventually be my fate. And the other, you.” Midoriya opened his mouth, but YN continued. “Or, the thought of you. I always told myself that I had done it for you, that I had taken a quest to save you from someone you did not need to be saved from. But after so long, I knew. I knew that I was lying, and I was running from the lying, too. Killing the prince would not save you, after all. In the end, it was all for me, and I was running from the truth. And now that I’ve made my peace with you and the truth is actually out, I can’t hate the way I used to. I am looking for something to hate, and I cannot find anything but your eyes, and I could never hate those.” 

Whatever Midoriya had to say was out the window. Instead, he was slack-jawed and in awe. 

“That was...beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” YN sighed. “It’s good to get that off my chest.” 

“When you go back, you should be a poet.” 

YN let out a barking laugh. “Absolutely not. All bards do is eat, drink, and sleep with women that are not theirs.” 

Midoriya saw the U.A. gate approaching and Todoroki standing near it, on the inside. The stoic boy handed a guest pass over through the gate and swiped it right before Midoriya did. 

“Aizawa handed this over so that way you can deliver Red without the gate going off.” Todoroki murmured, almost ignoring YN and also conveniently ignoring them holding hands. Midoriya nodded. 

“I didn’t think of that. Thanks.” 

Todoroki nodded. “They’re inside.” 

All three walked to the door of the dorms, but as they were about to open the doors, YN froze. 

“Izuku,” She whispered. He looked over, surprised at the use of his first name. “I...I don’t know if…” 

Midoriya gave YN’s hand a squeeze and glanced at Todoroki. “Go on in. I think she needs a second.”  

Todoroki nodded and walked in. Midoriya heard sudden talking, but it was muted by the doors closing again. He turned back to YN, who had her brows furrowed and her mouth turned down. 

“What’s wrong, exactly?” Midoriya held both of her hands in his, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. 

“What if...what if the other me wasn’t there? What if I have to do it all over again, but it doesn’t go the same?” She looked between him and their hands. 

“Why wouldn’t it? It’s still me, after all.” Midoriya felt a bit of sorrow creep through his stomach at the prospect of YN leaving, but he knew that in the end, it was where she needed to go. 

“...” YN closed her eyes and leaned her head against Midoriya’s forehead. He could feel it wrinkling from her worry, and he squeezed her hands again. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I am.” Midoriya watched as she opened her eyes and pulled away. 

“Alright then.” She gulped and nodded. “Let’s go.”  

Midoriya opened the door and stepped in, holding it so YN could walk in, too. He looked forward into the living room and nearly froze in the spot. 

Before him were Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, Todoroki, Bakugou, and himself. Seeing Ochako and Iida wasn’t nearly as jarring as the two Todoroki’s with the identical, disinterested expression. Ochako wore a pink dress and had a pointed, maroon hat on, paired with a guarded scowl. Iida wore armour that looked suspiciously like the modern Iida’s hero armour, and had a sword strapped to his back in the same style as YN. The Other Todoroki had a blue collared shirt on that seemed fancier than any of the other clothes. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, with nothing but a fur-lined, red cloak on and armoured pants. He had jewellery everywhere, and once he saw Midoriya, his glare worsened. 

But Midoriya saw himself, and that’s when he really froze. 

Before him was a fluffy green-haired, freckled, shocked, perfect reflection of himself, with the exception of a forest green vest. Even their shoes were similar, and their expressions of disbelief were identical. Midoriya stood for a moment, before realising that YN was attempting to hide herself behind him. He turned and saw her looking right at the Other Midoriya with guilt and shame in her eyes. 

“Y…” The Other Midoriya stammered, reaching a gloved hand out. “YN? Is that really you?” 

YN looked away. 

The Other Ochako spoke up. “When you attacked us, “(YN flinched, and Midoriya began rubbing his thumb across her hand again.) “I cast that spell without realising that only one version of you can exist in each world. We had another you that was a bit more civil, thankfully-” 

“Be nice!” The Other Midoriya whisper-yelled. 

“But we took her back to where she came from, and now we’re here to get you. Deku said that you talked to him about something, and that you were nice now? Which I didn’t quite get, but-” 

“Just hurry up already and come on!” The Other Bakugou barked. YN sighed and stepped out from behind Midoriya. The Other Midoriya took a deep breath in, staring wide-eyed at her before reaching his hand out again. 

“Um...are you ready to go?” 

“Wait!” Midoriya said. “Really quick, I wanted to ask...M-Midoriya, when you and...and our YN talked, what did…?” Midoriya felt weird, addressing himself and the modern YN when both were already in the room. The Other Midoriya began to flush, and Midoriya wondered if that was what he really looked like when he was flustered. 

“Well, uh, things went, really…” 

The Other Ochako let out a subdued giggle before making a kissy face behind the Other Midoriya’s back. Midoriya blushed. 

“Gotcha.” He turned to YN. “Then...I suppose this is it.” 

“Yes.” YN sighed before placing a sweet, soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, Izuku. Thank you so much.” She squeezed his hand, one last time, before letting go. The Other Bakugou gagged. 

“Hurry it up, you fucking sappy shits. I have places to be-!” 

“No, you don’t.” The Other Todoroki piped back, making the Other Bakugou stop in the middle of his complaint. 

“What the fuck did you-!” 

“Anyway!” The Other Midoriya let out a big sigh, rocking on the balls of his feet and giving a nervous grin while the Other Todoroki and the Other Bakugou bickered behind him. Todoroki watched it with a faint smirk. “Then, uh, let’s go?” 

YN nodded. “Of course.” 

“Oh! Uh, YN!” Midoriya called out as Ochako began tapping a staff against the carpet. “Don’t forget about what we talked about! With, you know...Todoroki…?” He played with his hands a bit before YN let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

“Todoroki?” The Other Midoriya tilted his head. “What about…?” 

“Nothing.” YN smiled, bigger this time. “Shall we?” 

The Other Ochako cleared her throat as the Other Bakugou gave a groan of ‘fuckin’ finally!’. She murmured something (Midoriya realised that she mentioned mornië several times) before a swirling, light blue, misty circle appeared, hovering just about the carpet. The Other Ochako let out a satisfied grunt before gesturing to it. 

“Caster goes last!” The Other Bakugou wasted no time marching through, followed by the Other Iida and the Other Todoroki. The Other Midoriya gently tugged YN through, but not before she gave one last melancholy wave and smile. The Other Ochako turned, waved to both Todoroki and Midoriya, before jumping through herself. The portal closed with a snapping noise and a pop in the air, and both Todoroki and Midoriya stood perfectly still. 

“I’m going back to bed.” Todoroki murmured. “Are you going to stay, or go back?” 

“Uh…” Midoriya faltered, not taking his eyes off of where the portal was. Though he only knew this version of YN for a night, it still felt like a part of him had been taken away with her. It was a void, a spot that made him want to cry and laugh at the same time and never move again until the school collapsed and he became moss. She was a reminder that he couldn’t just fling himself into herowork; he had to remember his friends and family, too. He felt lucky, in a way. Had YN continued on that route, had she not been sent to Midoriya, then she might’ve killed Todoroki and advanced the goals of someone who definitely did not have the best in mind. Not only that, but that meant that his version of YN could potentially come to him, seeing as he had no idea where she was. It was all hypotheticals.

“Midoriya, you’re muttering again.” 

“Ack!” 

Four days had passed since YN left. 

Midoriya felt the melancholy of her absence more than ever. The YN that lived in his world had made no obvious attempt at contact, and he was sure that there was no chance she would try to talk to him. He had accepted it, but it still hurt to think that maybe she just...stepped back. That she decided that the life of a mercenary was still for her. Maybe she wasn’t ready yet, or she couldn’t find him without endangering him. But it all felt like false hope. Midoriya left Class 1-A with Todoroki, Tsuyu, Ochako, and Iida, heading down to lunch, when he looked out the window into the front greens of the school. The gate was open, as usual, but Midoriya noticed someone standing in front of it. They had on a black coat that fanned out around their legs, and seemed unusual for the hot weather, and the fact that they were wearing plum shorts. He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the glass. 

“Deku? Is everything okay?” Ochako walked next to him, looking down. “Hey, what’re they doing?” 

Midoriya realised that they looked hesitant, hanging around where the buzzer would be to be let in. Then, they looked up at the windows, and Midoriya felt his heart stop. 

Abruptly, he took off down the hall, knocking down more than one student and only getting out one apology. He went full-throttle through all the floors, taking the stairs and even almost knocking over Present Mic. His heart raced, eye blurring as he ran for the front doors. One of the secretaries called out for him to stop running, but he burst through and ran down the bath outside, feeling the sunlight blind him. She was just through the gate, turning around and beginning to leave with defeated shoulders, when Midoriya yelled with what little breath was in his lungs. 

“YN!!” 

She froze, head snapping back up and spinning around. She barely had time to right herself before Midoriya flung himself into her arms, flying as she stared in shock. 

And as he tackled her in a hug and a searing kiss that he never would have tried in any other situation, he felt a laugh bubble in his chest. When he pulled away, YN was panting and grinning. 

“Well, you’re happy.” She looked at him, and the only obvious difference between her and the Other YN was how she freely she smiled in his arms. “And here I thought I didn’t stand a chance of seeing you today.” 

And as Midoriya kissed her again, he realised exactly what he had been missing the entire time. When he reached for Mornië Hyando, when YN left, and when he heard her cry. It was an unintelligible sorrow that ached in his heart, but when he laid on the pavement with YN laughing underneath him, it all felt like a bad memory. This time, the kiss was absolutely heavenly, like it was the peak of his life, and it was all downhill from there. 

He laid another one onto her before nuzzling his nose into her neck and feeling her hands running through his hair. 

“I missed you.” He whispered.

“I missed you, too, Izu.” 

“I love you.” 

YN stiffened, her arms around him tensing, and Midoriya wondered what the hell possessed him to say that. It was true, sure, but it was incredibly soon, and the last thing he wanted was to scare off YN, and-

“I love you too, Izuku.” 

Midoriya’s eyes widened, pulling away from her neck and seeing her grin. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from sniffling a bit. YN, thankfully, didn’t see fit to tease him about, instead directing her attention to over Midoriya’s shoulder. He heard footsteps behind them and Ochako calling out. 

“Deku, what’s going on?!” 

“Deku?” YN glanced down at him. Her look was somewhere between jealous and concern. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away, instead choosing to giver her an Eskimo kiss. Ochako began to talk before Midoriya interrupted her, letting out a smitten sigh.  

“I’m home.”

a/n: I absolutely hated how this turned out. i wish it died a pitiful death. but alas, i needed to get this out of my drafts lest god herself kill me. end me, please.  

#and here I lay #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya/reader #bnha x reader #bnha fantasy au #the only good part was the florence and the machine reference