#and people like. leave her alone? because that's why she deactivated this time apparently

[maddy-ferguson]

who’s redacted btw

theonebyIer

#i was gonna say she won't see this because i've blocked her (/nm😭) and i looked her blog up just to check and found out that she's #deactivated again but no one but us would see it because my l is a capital i #but yeah remember in february her account was terminated and people who i'm sure didn't even know her like that were like why byler tumblr #is gonna die without them #which as i've said before i kinda get like i'd do that too with some of my mutuals i just wouldn't tag it byler seeing as it has nothing #to do with the ship. but whatever #but this isn't her first time deactivating on her own terms so idk hope she comes back when she wants to if she ever wants to #and people like. leave her alone? because that's why she deactivated this time apparently #ask

[dantelionwishes]

life is full of ups and downs downs downs downs dow

loredump under the cut. not kidding when I say its gonna be long!

oh shit you actually clicked keep reading thank you for your interest 😭😭😭

YOU KNOW THE DRILL tw // suggestive dont read ahead if youre uncomfortable with the topic of aphrodisiacs! 

MIDDLE SCHOOL 

before anything, I gotta explain he was born to parents who had an infatuation quirk (makes them hardcore fall in love with you) and an infection quirk (transmits a virus via saliva)  

developed his quirk late, since they usually get it by the time kids are four 

most people knew him as quirkless before the first incident 

in middle school, his class was preparing for a school play, he and his classmate got cast as the main lead prince and princess 

coincidentally, they both had a crush on each other and had a scene where they kissed

technically they weren’t supposed to, since its just a play, but one time they were practicing in private and wanted to try kissing “for real”

so they shared a super giggly cute middle school first kiss but well UNFORTUNATELY FOR HIM HIS QUIRK HAD WELL DEVELOPED– 

BADABING BADABOOM YOU HAVE AN IMAGINATION USE IT

the only way for the quirk’s effects to go away is to come at least once or pleasuring yourself until it goes away

I DO NOT WANT TO IMAGINE IT BUT. IMAGINE BEING A TEACHER AND FINDING A MIDDLE SCHOOLER WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER AND AN ADULT IS FORCED TO TELL HER HOW TO MAKE IT GO AWAY LLLLIKE–

rip now that I’m thinking abt it, I don’t even think anybody would even kNOW HOW TO MAKE IT GO AWAY so lets imagine she painfully stays that way until they figure out how to make it stop :^(

there’s a big fight that happens between the teachers, principal, and parents of both parties 

of course the crush’s parents got mad and called their kid a fuckin uhhhhh sexual predator or some shit despite also beING THE SAME AGE AND NOT EVEN KNOWING ABT HIS OWN QUIRK LIKE HELLLO

obviously an incident like this is going to spread like wildfire but the principal does not want something like this to leak, especially since it was not on purpose and was a total accident 

the other kid’s parents and some teachers did not feel comfortable however, and sato was forced to drop out

but not wanting to spread the gossip about their son’s quirk and the incident, they leave the town and move someplace else

thankfully, the principal gives the sato family his good grades and a recommendation to a decent highschool for the trouble

they’re originally from osaka, but moved to tokyo 

this is where they start taking precautions with sato, basically teaching him to be careful with his saliva 

it was easily taught and learned esp since the mom was already like that around him and others everyday anyway!! she has to take care of her saliva-based infection quirk, after all 

HIGH SCHOOL

he got enrolled into a regular highschool in tokyo

no hero course, no support course, no business, just a regular ol’ school

if before, he loved surrounding himself with people, this was where he was forced to develop a lonely disposition to protect himself and others

at least his parents were very protective and supportive of him and they were generally a happy family!

but in school, pretending to be quirkless was just as difficult, getting bullied or pitied for having no special abilities 

his excuse for wearing a mask all the time was because his mother had a virus-related quirk, and had to be careful 

one day his dad was suddenly got really, really sick

the more he had an excuse to wear a mask because he didnt want to get whatever disease his father started to develop 

sato started thinking it could be his mother (but why?) the results didn’t say anything about an unknown virus killing him (which is his mom’s quirk), and that his father really did contract a strong yet very normal disease 

while on his second year in highschool, his father, yozo sato, died 

apparently, without him knowing anything about his parents, his mother, oba sato, was actually under the dad’s infatuation quirk this whole time

she realised she wasn’t really in love with him when oba had accidentally allowed a drop of her saliva to fall into the meal she was making him, making him sick, and therefore making him weak enough to deactivate his quirk on her 

oba, back in her college years, wanted to marry someone else but yozo, who had a crush on her wanted her to himself, used his quirk to make him fall in love with her 

so in revenge for making her put up with him all these years to the point of marriage and having a kid, she continued to do this to his food 

her quirk doesn’t make anybody sick enough to die, but it made her husband’s immune system weak enough to the point that it contracted a real, serious disease which he ended up dying from instead 

sato only finds out the real story when he graduates from highschool, days right after his graduation the mom confesses it all 

she does say she truly loves him, but can’t stay around him knowing he was technically “unconsensual love”

sato gets reminded of what his quirk does, and true enough, that’s what him and his quirk turned out to be (a sick combination of his mom and his dad) 

they cant bear to be around each other after that revelation and decide to just not see each other again 

COLLEGE YEARS

he enrolls into an education course, inspired by the kind principal who helped him finish his middleschool-highschool education when it all started going downhill 

sato struggles paying for his college fees esp since he doesn’t exactly have his parents supporting him anymore, nor any contact with immediate family 

he has a lot of part time jobs that go all around the clock, he continues pretending to be quirkless so he gets bullied, and has to deal with all that emotional baggage plus being alone so…….clearly my man is TIRED as hell 

his side job hustles include: convenience store cashier, bookstore attendant, bar bouncer, and rookie gym trainer (he went to the local gym long enough for him to get recommended a job as a trainer)

college was that point where he starts developing a hardcore yearning for a companion because oh my god hes so lonELY (but cant)

ANYWAY SO

there’s this bully guy who always picks on him in college (for being “quirkless” and a loner and overall a fuckin weirdo with a mask)

tbh sato doesnt really give a shit he’s so used to it but he doesnt have his mother as an excuse to wear the mask anymore, this is where he starts forming the “I have bad breath” excuse 

“口臭い” (kuchi kusai) translates to “bad breath” or “stinky mouth” so sato unlovingly gets nicknamed “kusato”

one day he’s walking around the campus at night and finds the bully with his gang cornering another quirkless student, with plans of assaulting her 

sato was never the hero type, and was about to ignore the commotion as to not get involved, but something in him moved on its own and he found himself face to face with the gang 

he confronts them, but the bully mocks both him and the girl for not having powers to stop them anyway 

SIKE BITCH sato’s able to easily strike the other two guys, knock them off their feet enough to be able to tug the to-be victim aside, telling her to report them, before asking her to run away as fast as she can

none of the guys want that (they’re all students) so they have a full on brawl (and this isnt hero academy, its a totally normal university so I wouldn’t assume these guys had very impressive quirks)

except the main bully actually has a pretty decent quirk (he’s like a kinda half human half dragon with sharp claws, scales, and dragon eyes) and gets to injure sato with his sharp claws, seriously injuring his face

a part of his ear is also sort of sliced off, which is how his mask gets accidentally removed in the process 

the dragon bully grabs him by the collar and starts angrily shouting at him for ruining his night, being able to do all this shit without a quirk and all and all other derogatory speech 

“Well? what do you have to say for yourself?!“ 

Sato stays silent before spitting right into the bully’s mouth 

The bully drops him immediately, about to angrily fuck him up for doing something super fucking gross but WHOOP WHOOP YOU KNOW WHATS BOUTTA HAPPEN the quirk works immediately and the bully is a TOTAL MESS on the ground 

Im going to TLDR this part cos its…obviously nsfw but like: sato fully embarrasses him in public (beside the bully’s two colleges nonetheless) 

sato stays in the hospital for some time to heal from his wounds 

fortunately, afterwards, the bullies all get expelled 

unfortunately for sato, he also gets expelled for engaging in bad behaviour, and the bully did say what happened to him (and the college principal did not want his…dangerous quirk on campus) so as to lower any incident, all four were expelled 

at least without having to pay for college fees anymore, he could fully focus on paying for food, shelter, and clothes 

minus of course the hospital bills needed to pay plus he got a sick ass scar from it anyway HAHAHAHA BSDJHJRHDHF

ADULT LIFE

he had a lot of jobs here and there, but was more or less doing best as a trainer at a local gym where people weren’t allowed to use their quirks and strengthen their body regularly 

a few years went by and he eventually shrugged off everything that happened in his final college years but one day someone familiar walked into the gym! It was the fellow college student he saved!!!

she became a policewoman who wanted to get stronger in this quirkless friendly gym and hadn’t given up on her dreams of being a “hero,” inspired by how sato saved her that day

sato never really saw himself as some hero, he was left many nights alone thinking about how easily he could become a villain with his quirk, so hearing that really made him happy 

he trains her as her gym coach and she eventually asks him to join her patrol this small part of the city from a gang that was currently going around doing crimes since he’s good at it anyway, saying she could use some extra hands hehe

so yeah!! he does this side gig with her where he patrols alongside her looking for gang crimes and such c:

AND ONE DAY. [WISTFUL SIGH] ONE DAY. HE FINDS SOMEBODY GETTING MUGGED BY A GANG MEMBER AND SAVES………A CERTAIN MAN–

thank you for reading all the way here!!!

feel free to ask for questions or for any clarifications 😭😭😭!!!!!!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha oc comeback #mha #bnha oc #mha oc #lionhe(art) #I know I havent exactly written stuff from meeting toshinori onwards #but thats for another day!! #I only ever wrote Sato's backstory pre meeting all might #yet all I drew as a teen was them as a couple lMAOOO #idk if anyone would wanna read that but honestly iM SURE THE STUDENTS WANT THAT SPICY RELATIONSHIP INFO JHSDJGHAJHJK #my 17-year old self would have been happy in my place ;;3;; !!!!! #i finally got to share his lore!! that was a lot so if you seriously read it all thank you so much aaaaaaaaaaaa #Osamu sato-sensei

[boredandelusive]

TW: The MGG situation, mention of SA a minor, allegations

So here's the full situation from the threads I summarized, and I'll leave links to the posts and the person who made the thread.

Here for the tik tok in the last photo and for more clarification

Here for the entire page of info and the screenshots, as well as the threads mentioned

There's also mentions of how this happened to Dylan last year, same story, and when it happened to mgg last year, he said it was false.

I'm still on a neutral standing ground, and the user also pointed out the spottiness in the stories, and the SS was from my version of summarizing, if it wasn't clear.

UPDATE: apparently the camp thing happened last year, but it still catches my attention how she joked about him not finding the cl1t and instead of fully clarifying, she said it was worse of an issue because she was underage, and she apparently got the time wrong, how she said it was 9 years not 8. 

What’s also concerning is that the time this would’ve happened was when season 7 or 8 was being shot, which he also dated someone at the time. Then another thing about how she said it was a joke by liking the comment of someone saying it was a joke. Someone else said Marley said it was a dare, which means it could be a false allegation, which doesn’t help at all. 

UPDATE 2.0: So more information came to light about Marley, and how her 21st birthday was 4 years ago, meaning she wasn’t 16 in 2013. This would’ve made her currently 24 but she’s 25, not a big difference, but and in 2019, she worked t Lake Tahoe, making her 21/22 at the time. In 2013, she was at highschool in another state, not in cali, and has only worked in her home state except for 2019.

There’s a thread on twitter adding everything together. To recap, someone found her facebook from tumblr and it proved she lived on lake tahoe during 2013. There’s proof the camp was false, and no adult man would’ve been around minors, let alone them drinking. This was the same girl from last year saying the camp allegations, which is why I’ve decided to keep them here.

There’s a lot of contradictions to her story, before saying she was dismissed when telling adults, he said she’s never told anyone before. She said it was a bad experience, which doesn’t mean r@p3 or gr--ming, but people have jumped ot those conclusions.

In 2013, mgg was filming Life After Beth in LA and CM, he was dating Ali Michael in 2013, meaning he wouldn’t have reasonable gone to the camp during this time, mostly because he probably didn’t have free time. Marley lives in Utah and is a realtor, and in 2016, mgg was at SSC as a cameo, which places her at 19/20, which an uncomfy interaction could’ve happened then, but why did she lie about her age?

Marley could’ve been uncomfy by something he said, then lied about being younger to have a bigger impact on the internet. This would’ve happened during 2016/17, which her FB shows she was at SSC, and mgg was there for a talent show. This was the only plausible time for them to meet, and the SSC situation helps to infer she’s the same one fom last year’s allegations. Marley was 18 in 2014.

What’s also strange is how she saiad she didn’t know hwo to delete her tik tok acc, but people helped her. Someone tried it, and you only need a password to deactivate it. She then lies about deleting the account, considering she said you need a code, not the case. She also posted another tik tok saying she wanted more people to view her tik toks to make money from it. 

UPDATE 3.0: There has been video proof of Marley stating she wanted to make money off of this. The link is from here and take this how you want it, but it’s still absolutely strange how she mentioned wanting to make money from this like I said. It seems more like she’s using a big name to get views and money, hoping it would bring her attention.

UPDATE 4.0: There you have it folks, straight from her account and screenshotted into a tik tok, she admits it was a joke. You can look at it here because I hope and think this will be the first and last time I have to do shit like this.

Personally, as a C(SA) survivor, her coping mech was strange and uncomfy. She didn’t put a TW, and there’s video proof of her saying she wanted to make money off it from the vid being on friends only. I’ll leave a link to the two threads for you to see for yourself. 

Thread one by kiramreid on twt and thread two by comfortmgg on twt. 

Either way, I’ll be updating this blog as I continue finding out more, she deleted her two instas, I want to find out as much as I can to discover the truth. If this did actually happen, which I know to separate the actor from the character, it won’t change the HDHS series, but considering I”m on a bit of a writing break, it’ll be delayed at best.

I’m not saying otherwise, but am presenting the rumours, so it’s up to you how you interpret things. I’m staying on a neutral ground.

#matthew grey gubler #mathew gubler #mgg allegations #mgg

[mittensmorgul]

Hi, I have a question, and I hope it would be interesting for you too... Could we talk about angel's wings and feathers?..

I always thought that angel's wings were a part of their true form, a kind of energy which we can only see as a shadows or electric sparks or ash or something like this.

And I didn't think that it could be a real wings with feathers as bird's. Until, while rewatch, I've noticed that angel's feather were mentioned in SPN at least twice (maybe you've noticed more?):

1) In 8.12 when Henry Winchester time travels he uses an angel feather in spell. And then Dean tells that Henry stole an angel feather from the trunk of the Impala. So feathers are reall??? Why did the Winchestets keep the feather in the trunk of the Impala and where they get it? (ok, maybe they found it in the bunker)

2) In 12.13 Sam uses a white feather in spell returning Gavin back in time (we know this spell needs an angel feather)

So now we can see how the real angel feather looks like???

Does that mean that the angel's wings can be presented in physical world like a real wings with feathers and this is not fanfiction? I like this idea so much.

I think that the creators of the show didn't let us to see it, as many other great things, that is sad...

I would really like to know your thoughts about this.

(Sorry for my bad english, it is not my native language...)

Hi there! First off, your English is fine! (lol it’s my native language, and I just typed it “Inglish” by accident, so you’re already doing better than I am :’D)

ETA: DON’T REBLOGGY THIS YET. I forgotted something that @thayerkerbasy just reminded me of, and I’m editing this post... brb... okay NOW YOU CAN REBLOGGY!)

As far as I know, those are the only times in canon we ever see or hear mention of an angel feather, and both times it’s for the same exact spell. They reference that it’s Henry’s spell when they use it again in 12.13, but make no mention in dialogue of it being an angel feather. Yet Sam had a whole jar of fluffy little pin feathers, so the assumption is that they’d been collecting them for a while (unless those were either found in the Men of Letters’ spell ingredient stockpile when they moved into the bunker, or otherwise given to them by Cas at some point).

It’s weird, because they seem like a very limited commodity, especially after the angels fell and their wings all burned up. Even after Cas got his original grace back, his wings never seemingly recovered. When we did finally see his wing prints in 12.23, they were still... not healthy... So my thinking is that any spell that would require them will become impossible to cast when their current supply runs out. All the other angels-- at the end of the series-- were either dead or locked in Heaven with their broken wings. We never learned any of their fates. Maybe they were all rendered obsolete under the Heaven Remodel?

A little behind the scenes from the early days of SPN as a bonus, since it’s tangentially relevant:

When they were filming the very early episodes of SPN, they had a lot of choices to make about what to show us based on what their budget would allow them to portray. Think of an episode like Wendigo, 1.02. One thing I see people say often was that it was a shame we didn’t see more of the monster, but only saw like... bushes shaking, or a vague form moving through the underbrush, or a blur. They made a stylistic choice right there to keep it within budget.

The options they faced were showing us a “dude in a rubber mask” type monster and showing it more, versus one really terrifying shot of a Proper Monster™ dying in spectacular fashion. Rather than go full-on cheesemonster, they chose to leave most of it up to our imaginations, giving us glimpses or hints of the monster.

They went back and forth on this a bit over the years, attempting to show us more on occasion, but most of those times the audience reaction has been varying degrees of wtf... Think about some of the scenes where they attempted to give us more than a glimpse at the supernatural, or a blood splatter, or whatever. It didn’t always work well. Think: the wire fight from 13.23...

I mean, it took us until 11.14 to ever see an angel “flap away,” when we saw Casifer zap Dean off the exploding submarine.

For the most part, I appreciate the fact that they understood the limitations of their own budget and didn’t give angels cheap little wings just to be able to show them on camera. Over time, only being able to see them as shadows, or as char after the angel died, became part of the lore of the show.

I blame Adam Glass for writing that spell, because he probably thought it sounded cool or whatever, that it was effectively a throwaway line because no other spell they’ve ever used has required an angel feather as an ingredient, and in story it was only linked into this larger Men of Letters Legacy plot that in retrospect feels like Chuck tying up loose ends and putting previously “deactivated” plotlines back into play.

I do find it kind of interesting that both iterations of this spell (the second resurrected by Bucklemming) were both tied to Abaddon. Henry’s spell in 8.12 brought her into the story from the past, she eventually travelled to the much further distant past to bring Gavin into the present (presumably with her own power alone, no angel feather required), and then after she was killed, they used the spell to return Gavin to his own time. So in a a way, the spell was part of a closed narrative loop, never to be referred to again.

Kinda wild that we’d never heard of angel feathers being a thing for spells until we learn that Dean apparently had some just stashed in the trunk, though... :’D

As for how corporeal angel feathers are/were, they exist in the earthly plane enough to leave char marks when they burn, when an angel is killed, so they must always have had the potential to manifest physically. I can’t imagine they ever would’ve had a budget to show us anything more than what we usually saw, though. It did give them a LOT of flexibility over how exactly they presented them to us when they DID show us. And I can’t even imagine the suffering Misha would’ve endured as an actor spending all those years wearing some weird wing harness rig. It would’ve been... impractical. And the CGI the show could’ve afforded-- especially in earlier days-- would’ve been... bad...

But what they were able to show us? Was often awesome. Remember when Raphael showed off his wings in 5.03? LIGHTNING!

And when we finally did see actual corporeal-appearing wings in 8.23... it was Dramatique™

And for More CGI Is Sometimes A Bad Thing Science, please have the attempt at Michael’s “true form” from 14.01:

It’s kinda a super-letdown after AU!Michael’s previous shadow wing displays from 13.01, but more specifically from 13.22:

those... were... badass... 

Even the pre-wire-fight wing shadows on Dean were badass:

But if they’d tried to show us more of them, to make them move through action scenes for example, it would’ve been... bad...

So what we’re left with is the knowledge that there is some sort of corporeal element to wings that we simply can’t see most of the time, but clearly angels have the ability to show or hide them at will, even from other angels. Could it be an act of will on the part of the angel that manifests a bit of their grace in the form of a physical feather? Honestly, that’s the theory I’ve personally adopted toward canon. In fanfic, I’ve read tons of various headcanons about what angel wings are and how they function-- everything from “a manifestation of their true form” to “angels share a lot of traits with birds” to “an extension of their grace,” and everything in between.

I personally, in canon, like to think of it as akin to how they’ve used angel grace for other spells. I mean, when we recall that angels haven’t been on Earth much for the last few thousand years (aside from at least a couple of known incidents where angels interfered with humanity, like Ishim and Company in 12.10, for example, and the presumptive extension that the Men of Letters knew of the existence of angels and likely summoned one up a time or two the same way Lily Sunder had, giving one explanation for how Henry Winchester knew of this spell and had an angel feather to use for it, but also recontextualized when Lily Sunder taught us that humans can use their own souls to power spells in the same way angels used their grace... which sort of makes the notion of needing an angel feather AND his own soul to charge that particular spell in 8.12 a bit redundant unless Lily’s knowledge of angelic magic was more advanced than Henry’s... hrmpf.... so much tangent... back to the point)...

We did eventually learn of other spells that required an angel’s actual grace, not concentrated in the form of a feather. The Angel Fall Spell in 8.23 being the prime example. Metatron took ALL of Cas’s grace for that one, even if he didn’t use all of it for the spell and left a “fragment” (Metatron described it as “not a lot, but enough.”). 

ETA: HECK. I have 9.03 on the tv right now and it’s distractedly made me disgusted enough to have forgotten something that Thayer just reminded me of: Lucifer’s “fossilized feather” in 12.07. It held enough grace to restore and heal him after Rowena’s spell in 12.03 had degraded him. Which really only adds to the theory that “feathers” are simply bits of grace that have been rendered solid somehow, but that can be transformed back into grace as needed.

And then there was the Rift Spell for travelling to alternate universes that required archangel grace, as well as the time travel/ward breaking spell that Sam found in 11.14 that ALSO required archangel grace specifically. Would these spells have worked with an archangel “feather?” Possibly, if material feathers are somehow just crystalized bits of grace, but since we never got a full explanation in canon, and never even really saw corporeal feathery wings that dropped feathers or could be plucked, and never even had mention of corporeal feathers outside of their use in this single spell, it’s really up to our own interpretation. And I kind of like it that way, because that way we get to have fun little discussions like this one. :D

I know this isn’t a definitive answer, but it’s how it all makes sense to me, in the hand-wavey sort of way that all of canon works. :’D

#spn 8.12 #spn 12.13 #spn 8.23 #on the nature of angel grace #angels and souls #sigils and symbols #heck i know i used to have a spells tag... #spn 11.14 #spn 5.03 #spn 12.10 #spn 13.23 #spn 13.22 #spn 13.01 #spn 14.01 #Anonymous #spn 12.07

[xryn-art]

Maybe I'm missing something but why would he be sent back and killed after they had already changed their mind and released Zim? And why would Skoodge get in trouble too?

Sorry anon, sometimes I forget that what you guys know and what I know are two very different things when it comes to the events in the AU. Sometimes I leave stuff a bit vague. I'll try and explain better here without going too far into spoiler territory.

The question of why Zim needs to be Very Careful right now can be broken down into three main points:  

A) Being an Invader does not exempt you from Deactivation.

B) "Get Out of Jail Free" cards and Total Immunity are very different things.

C) People finding out about the failed deactivation could be very bad and Must Not Happen, Ever™ .

First off, it's important to understand that Zim was not spared for being an Invader (though this certainly helped his case). Invader smeets are rare and the genetic engineering required to produce them is difficult and time consuming to replicate compared to that of common Irkens. That being said, this does not mean invaders are safe from deactivation. Zim wouldn't have been sent there in the first place if they were. Like all Irkens, if an Invader is deemed to have defective qualities that interfere with their ability to fulfil their role, they will be disposed of. One of Zim's major shortcomings (that we've seen time and time again) is his capacity for affection and his tendency to seek comfort from those around him. You can imagine why these are pretty big no-no's for a future Invader.

Invaders may be valuable, sure, but that alone is not enough. Even expensive things must be thrown away if they are broken.

So what did save him? Why overturn the execution order and cover up the evidence instead of just sending Zim back for Deactivation 2, Electric Boogaloo?

I often joke that Miyuki did it for the entertainment value. While that isn’t technically wrong, it isn’t the whole story, either: the main reason Miyuki spared Zim is not because he's genetically classed as an Invader, but because he finally started acting like one.

Miyuki knows Zim is defective. Killing two higher ranking Irkens certainly doesn't change that fact. But what happens when a defective shows a sudden aptitude for the exact behaviours you were screening them for in the first place?

Invaders need to be intelligent, and calculating, and deadly. They need to face impossible odds in strange and unfamiliar environments and not falter, not even once, because a mistake could mean capture, and capture of one invader could jeopardise the entire invasion. Sure, would-be invaders ideally shouldn't act against their own kind, but the fact that Zim overcame the odds and killed two fully grown Irkens shows the level of tenacity Miyuki is looking for. Zim basically walked into a room of certain death and came out as the sole survivor. What more could you want from someone who's going to be sent to a hostile planet, alone, with the sole purpose of fucking shit up?

So all this leads to Zim receiving the equivalent of a “Get out of Jail Free Card” for his efforts. This is a VERY conditional offer. Miyuki won’t have him killed, but just this once. Zim does not have any further Immunity, and neither do any of the other Invaders. Zim will be monitored. Any further acts of defectiveness will not be tolerated, same as any other smeet. The only difference between him and them now is that Zim has the added stress of knowing exactly what waits for him if he fails to keep up the act.  

But why keep Skoodge in the dark?

This isn't included in any of the flashback comics so far, but Zim was given very clear instructions before being released back into the Smeetery. Rule number 1?

Tell no one.

Only a select few Irkens are in the know about what happened, and Miyuki intends for it to stay that way, for good reason.

Miyuki touches on this in part 4, but I'll reiterate it here: something like this has never happened before. Not because the Irkens that get sent to be deactivated aren't capable of fighting back. Most are. It's just that they never thought to try. Whether this comes down to a sense of devotion and duty to the empire, or straight up interference from the PAK, the outcome is the same. No one disobeys orders from the Control Brains, even when that order is to die.

No one except Zim, apparently.

As impressed as Miyuki is, she also knows that free thought is a dangerous thing (her previous Tallest could attest to that). It also has a tendency to spread. Anyone that knows what happened instantly becomes a liability, because anyone that knows also becomes aware of a very dangerous fact: obedience is not the only option.

Miyuki is gambling on the chance that she can scare Zim enough to keep him in line and turn him into a good little pawn to use in her games, and she certainly isn't above threatening children to keep them quiet.

And if at any point Miyuki decides Zim is more trouble than he's worth? She won't make the mistake of underestimating him again.

Zim has every reason to be scared.

#ask #anon #iz linguistics au #long post #miyuki is a scary mf and i will die on this hill #miyuki read his file she knows zim has a tendency to bond with the people around him #she also knows how to exploit it #invaders shouldnt care about other people and miyuki bout to teach this kid why

[meliaaizawa]

MY RATIONAL LONG HAIR

Shota decides to wear his hair back one day at school

Word count: 931ish

*Aizawa's POV*

Ever since I was little, my hair has been rather long. I think my mother thought it was cute, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten used to it. Though it does get on my nerves at times, it makes more sense to keep it long. It covers up most of my face, and besides brushing it, it doesn’t take a lot to maintain it. With that said, I must’ve slept on it differently last night, because it is especially annoying to me today. Though I didn’t really want to, I thought that it’d be best for me to pull it back in a ponytail today. If I don’t, I won’t be able to focus on my studies at school.

I took one of my hair ties, which I mainly use at home, and pulled my hair back before getting dressed for school. I head out the door and walk a couple blocks to the corner where I usually meet Mei before walking the rest of the way together. Sure, I enjoy being alone, but walking with her regularly just sort of happened, since we live in the same neighborhood. Even if I didn’t walk with her, running into her on the way to school would be inevitable anyways. Plus, she doesn’t mind silence when we walk, not to mention that she is a bodyguard of sorts… If we run into another classmate, she is able to help engage them in conversation so I don’t have to.

I approached our normal meeting spot, and looked up to see Meiya walking towards me. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said as she approached. For some reason, she looked different too… Maybe it had to do with the fact that I’m looking at her without half of my vision blocked by my hair… “Yeah, my hair was annoying today,” I replied simply before turning toward the direction we normally walked to school. “Well, it’s interesting seeing what your face actually looks like,” she said, looking at her feet as she walked along beside me. Why could I feel a sudden warmth coming over my face? Well I guess summer is approaching, after all.

Though the rest of the walk was silent like normal, I couldn’t help but feel like something was a bit different… Meiya was being especially quiet for some reason. We made it to our classroom on time and took our seats, and I got a couple more comments about my hair, which was annoying. But even more annoying was the fact that people were looking at me a lot more than normal. Was my face really that interesting? I ignored everyone and everything going on around me and focused on my work.

During study hall, I could hear our friend Shirakumo, Meiya’s childhood friend, whisper something to her from his seat. He sat too far, but she sat next to me. I could only hear a section of her reply. “Shut up, Obo,” she said to him, in a defensive, almost irritated tone, which I knew her to use when being teased by him. Not really sure what he said, but with my hair out of my face, I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye with her face a shade of red… and… was she looking at me out of the corner of her eye? Why was my face getting warm again? *Pay attention to your work, Shota… Don’t get distracted by those idiots* I told myself.

Thankfully, the remainder of the day was uneventful overall, and as it was time to walk home, Mei approached me. “Hey Shota… I am going over to Sakiko’s house to study, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said before turning to leave with a girl in our class. As I watched her walk away, Yamada was apparently behind me this whole time. “Ok, bro, you better tell me what happened between you and Meiya!!! Was there some kind of love connection I missed out on??” he asked as he rested his arm on my shoulder, which I brushed off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, beginning to walk in the direction of home. “It’s as if you are both afraid to look at each other! As if you’re both afraid to admit you’re in love or something!” Yamada replied, his voice steadily getting louder.

There was no denying that my face felt like it was on fire this time, and I instinctively used my quirk as I gave a death glare at him, causing my hair to fly up and out of the ponytail. “Shut up, you idiot,” I said, with my teeth clenched. He could tell I was upset at what he said and stopped talking. I deactivated my quirk, and my hair flopped back down over my face like normal. It wasn’t like that at all. There’s no way a girl like Amiyagi would ever be in love with a guy like me… And I’m certainly not in love with her. At least I think I found another reason my long hair is the rational choice… It helps me cover my view of Mei. There’s no way I have feelings like that for her.

#aizawa #shota aizawa #teen!aizawa #fluff #aizawa shouta #rational long hair #meizawa

[papenniesandbentoboxes]

The Impossible Imposter - A Nancy Drew Among Us Crack Fanfiction

I wrote this at midnight last night to celebrate my 20th birthday. This is probably the most stupid thing I’ve ever written.

Here’s the AO3 link!

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Characters: Bess Marvin, Sonny Joon, Mason Quinto, Alec Fell, Dwayne Powers, Ethel Bossiny, Jacques Brunais, Lou Talbot, Brady Armstrong, Harper Thornton

Word Count:  2224

Here’s the fic!

[Camera pans to table with a button in the center, ten individuals stand around. The smallest in pink is BESS MARVIN, the tallest JACQUES BRUNAIS in purple, DWAYNE POWERS in red, ALEC FELL in green, SONNY JOON in cyan, MASON QUINTO in blue, ETHEL BOSSINY in white, HARPER THORNTON in black, BRADY ARMSTRONG in lime, LOU TALBOT in yellow.]

[All crew members eye each other, each suspicious of the others. MASON QUINTO leans on the table.]

MASON: Alright, since no one wants to talk, I’ll do it. We each have tasks right? Let’s do them. We’ve got to go and get to our destination.

BRADY: But where are we going?

[Silence.]

ALEC: Good question. We were never really told where we’re going. We just are here… I guess.

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Instantly, I thought Mason was suspicious, but he’s just like that I’ve realized. He’s always up to something, whether it’s being an asshole or a dick or a genius. Depends.}

[SONNY slams hands on the table.]

SONNY: Let’s yeet !

[Crowd disperses, leaving LOU in the cafeteria to empty the garbage]

{LOU CONFESSIONAL: I wanted to go in a group, just so I wouldn’t be alone. I hate it here. But like, you know, they were all so fast. Going by all zippy-zoom.}

[In ADMIN, BESS MARVIN struggles while swiping her card.]

BESS: C’mon! Just work!

[DWAYNE enters, eyes squinted at her. They both watch each other warily. BESS’s card still won’t scan. DWAYNE heads toward the wires.]

BESS: Please, please, please, please…

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Dwayne freaks me out. He’s so… Unhinged. I’ve heard everything he’s done! Even if he isn’t the imposter, he’d probably kill us all anyway!}

[DWAYNE leaves.]

BESS: [releaved] Oh, thank God.

[In ELECTRICAL, BRADY is struggling with wires.]

BRADY: [puts two wires together and shocks himself] Ouch!

[HARPER enters, laughing to herself.]

BRADY: Hi, Harper. [shocks himself again] Ow.

{BRADY CONFESSIONAL: Harper is scary. She just is. I’ve heard rumors that she’s actually, like, crazy. I don’t want to believe them, since I like to see the best in people and it helps with my celebrity image, but she’s… Just scary.}

[HARPER helps fix the wires with him.]

HARPER: Maybe if you’d put the wires together in the right way you wouldn’t die so fast.

BRADY: Huh?

HARPER: Oh, nothing, hon.

{HARPER CONFESSIONAL: My condescending cousin says that all the time and it makes others feel awful, so I thought I’d give it a try. [loud laugh] It worked!}

[Without any warning, OXYGEN DEPLETION ALARM goes off. Both crew members look each other in the eye and then run off down the hall.]

[ADMIN at OXYGEN CONTROL PANEL, MASON is typing in the deactivation code.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: I expected to be the only one doing anything about this, but deep inside me I didn’t want it to be that way. You know, I could totally just not do anything and then we’d all die. But I actually want to live, unlike some people apparently.}

[SONNY runs in, then runs out to the other PANEL, CAMERA FOLLOWS]

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: I’m only here for the aliens. If they’re anywhere, it’s space. Also, these suits are cool.}

[SONNY almost runs into ALEC, who is also headed to the PANEL.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Sonny… What a guy. I have no idea what to think of him. But he does have a file where I work. Which is classified.}

[ALEC and SONNY run to the PANEL where DWAYNE is inputting the code.]

DWAYNE: [smiles] Ah, greetings.

ALEC: Aye, greetings.

SONNY: [waves]

[All three men stare at each other for a long moment until a DEAD BODY is REPORTED and the ALARM sounds.]

[CAFETERIA, where all but two crew members meet. LOU and JACQUES are missing from the group. BRADY, who reported the bodies, is quiet. ALEC speaks up.]

ALEC: Where were they?

BRADY: Reactor. It was only Jacques I saw.

ALEC: Did you see anyone?

BRADY: [shrugs] No. But Harper is giving me mad sus vibes.

[In the back of the room, HARPER is sitting on a chair in the shadows, laughing in the darkness.]

HARPER: Oh, good! I was afraid I was the only one who thought so! You are right not to trust me.

MASON: What’s that supposed to me?

HARPER: You decide. Though, I figure that young man is only trying to cast suspicion on me.

BRADY: Not really--

HARPER: Well, if you insist, I’ll tell you. I am an Imposter. [stands up, hands on her hips] Y’all better be afraid if you know what’s good for you.

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Well, I’m betting that either she’s bluffing of the other Imposter is really, really angry right now. I honestly can’t tell if she’s lying or not. But… She does scare me.}

[TIMER counts down. All crew members have to vote within 30 seconds.]

BRADY: [holding black flag, HARPER’s color] I vote Harper. I don’t want to risk it.

BESS: [holds up grey flag] I’m going to skip this round. I can’t tell whether she’s… You know…

SONNY: Evil?

BESS: [blushes] Yeah…

SONNY: [holds up black flag] Well I think she’s super sus so I’m voting for her.

MASON: [holds up black flag] Might as well go with the rest.

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: Democracy, am I right?}

ETHEL: [holds up black flag] I also vote for Harper.

[BESS, SONNY, BRADY, and ALEC are startled, shrieking a bit each. ETHEL is unphased, looking as calm as ever.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: She’s terrifying.}

SONNY: [whispers] Oh my God, I forgot she was here.

BESS: [whispers back] Me too…

DWAYNE: [sighing loudly and holds up black flag] I vote for Harper. No use in voting against her.

ALEC: [holds up black flag] [says nothing]

HARPER: [holds up black flag] I also vote for me! Anywhere is better than here with all you upstairs people.

[Other crew members look at each other in confusion.]

BESS: What’s that supposed to mean?

ALEC: I have no idea.

[HARPER is ejected. Crew members await confirmation on the central screen.]

[HARPER is not An Imposter.]

ALEC: Shit!

MASON: [sighs] Well, there’s that.

BESS: [stares into the camera in fear]

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: I just want to go home.}

[Crew members have resumed activity. ALEC is in the HALLWAY, lugging around a container of GASOLINE.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: So, I’m just walking in the hallway, and then Sonny just comes walking by, whistling.}

[Camera cuts to SONNY walking through the hallway, whistling and glancing at ALEC. ALEC watches him carefully.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: Sonny’s just weird.}

[In MED BAY, BRADY is getting a med scan, looking at his stats.]

BRADY: They don’t have green eyes. They should have eye colors.

{BRADY CONFESSIONAL: They should!}

[MASON enters, heading straight to inspect samples. Both avoid eye contact. MASON leaves quickly. Relieved, BRADY steps down and lets out a long breath.]

BRADY: Well, that was better than I expected.

[MED BAY doors slide shut.]

BRADY: Uh oh.

[In WEAPONS, DWAYNE sits in the big chair, blasting asteroids.]

{DWAYNE CONFESSIONAL: Everyone expects me to be the Imposter ever since my stunt with Rick Arlen and my time in jail. Just because I’m a killer doesn’t mean I’m going to kill everyone! [rubs chin] It would be fun though. And if Rick Arlen were here, I’d just kill him. Being the Imposter would also be a bonus.}

[DWAYNE fires at his last asteroid, then stands up and leaves, tiptoeing down the hall.]

[SONNY is seen in the cafeteria, looking out at the stars.]

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: You know, my grandfather always told me I was special. I always believed it. I stopped for a while, but I’m back to believing that. I believe somehow I might make contact with alien life out here. [shrugs] Who knows? Maybe they’re just vibing and waiting for me to be out there.}

[DEAD BODY is REPORTED. All crew members meet at the cafeteria. BRADY is missing. BESS, who reported the body, looks out at the crowd.]

BESS: I… I didn’t see anyone. I found Brady in the Med Bay.

MASON: That must’ve been right after I left.

ALEC: Did you see anything?

MASON: [shakes head] I try not to be in the same room as other people. I don’t know who I can trust right now.

ALEC: Aye, that’s valid.

SONNY: Well, I know who I’m voting for. [holds up green flag] Alec’s super sus.

ALEC: Why would you do that?!

SONNY: I don’t know, you’re Australian.

ALEC: I’m Scottish! From Scotland!

SONNY: Deflecting! Super sus.

{SONNY CONFESSIONAL: [rubs the back of his neck] I’ve really got to brush up on my accents. I mean, even if I did say that on purpose to throw suspicion off me-- don’t worry, I’m not that stupid--, I still need to brush up. I keep mixing up Italian with Jamaican. Don’t ask how that happens, I don’t know.}

MASON:[holds up white flag] I’m voting for Ethel. We haven’t seen her this entire time.

[All crew members look to ETHEL, who stands there and holds her hands together. She shakes her head.]

ETHEL: I assure you, I was doing tasks.

DWAYNE: [slams fist on table] Silence ! She’s guilty! Guilty !

SONNY: Yeah, that’s what they all say.

BESS: [holds up white flag] Mason has a good point.

ALEC: [holds up white flag]

{ETHEL CONFESSIONAL: I suppose I expected nothing less from them.}

[ETHEL doesn’t vote, forcing them to wait in silence for 30 seconds.]

[ETHEL is ejected. Crew members eagerly await confirmation.]

[ETHEL was An Imposter.]

[Only five members remain. Immediately, ALEC FELL heads to security. Camera follows.]

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: I had to look at security. I had no tasks and some time to kill, so the security booth seemed like the best option for me. At least, if no one comes through the vents.}

[DWAYNE stands in NAVIGATION, downloading data. He has a scowl on his face as he angrily presses buttons.]

DWAYNE: I could have killed Rick Arlen by now.

[To his left, the vent opens up. Camera pans over. MASON QUINTO steps out, takes out a gun, and shoots DWAYNE. He smirks at the corpse in front of him for a moment, then climbs back into the vents.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [cleaning off knife from his last kill] Dwayne never saw me coming. Neither did Lou. I also assisted in the killing of Brady but I’m not telling anyone who my other partner is yet. They’ll find out soon enough.}

[DEAD BODY is REPORTED. All four crew members stand around the table, all quiet. SONNY, who found the body, looks around.]

SONNY: Well, since half of us are Imposters, how about a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who gets ejected?

MASON: No.

ALEC: How about you tell us where the body was found and who was nearby.

SONNY: No one was around and it was in navigation.

BESS: [gasps] That’s where I was right after the last meeting…

MASON: Wait, does that mean--

ALEC: No, I can confirm her whereabouts. She’s okay.

[All four stand in silence. The voting countdown begins.]

SONNY: [holds green flag] I still think it’s Alec.

ALEC: [holds up cyan flag] Och! How unexpected of you!

MASON: [holds up cyan flag] Sonny has been throwing accusations at Alec this entire time.

BESS: [looks around] I’m so sorry…

[After a long moment, Bess holds up a green flag. The voting results are tied. No one is ejected.]

[All crew members stare at each other, no one saying anything.]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [loads gun] All according to plan.}

[MASON takes out a gun and shots the ceiling. BESS cries out, ALEC puts a hand on her shoulder, SONNY just stares.]

MASON: Yeah. That’s right. I’m an Imposter. Now, since you know it’s me, I’m going to leave you to all sort it out between yourselves. One of you three is the last one of us.

BESS: Just tell us!

SONNY: He’d never do that.

BESS: [hugging herself] I want to go home…

ALEC: [giving her a kind smile] We all do.

[Voting countdown ends. All votes are for MASON]

{MASON CONFESSIONAL: [chuckles] Do you really think I was going to sacrifice my life for this? I’ve been planning to get ejected since the beginning. I have a small ship of my own waiting outside for me. They eject me? I call it to me and I get inside and wait until my partner executes the next step in the plan.}

[MASON is ejected. The three remaining look for confirmation even though they know the result.]

[MASON was An Imposter.]

[The lights go out. Crew members look up. No one moves. A gunshot is heard.]

[The lights come back on, revealing Bess holding a smoking gun over Sonny’s dead body.]

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: I really hate that I killed Sonny, but if I was gonna win, I needed to kill him. And you know what? I’m beginning to see why Mason and Ethel were actually having fun.}

ALEC: [turns to her, shocked] It was you?

BESS: [points gun at him] Always was .

{BESS CONFESSIONAL: Ha! Those acting classes I took last summer really paid off! And Joe was right. Reckless accusations are fun! Too bad I didn't contribute more.}

{ALEC CONFESSIONAL: [sighs] [takes a bite of a crumpet] [silence] [takes another bite] She offered me a last meal. [takes another bite and waits] I should have seen this coming.}

#nancy drew #clue crew #nancy drew crack #nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew fanfic #nancy drew crack fanfic #among #nancy drew among us #bess marvin #sonny joon #Mason Quinto #alec fell #dwayne powers #ethel bossiny #lou talbot #brady armstrong #harper thornton #jacques brunais

[audiblesmirking]

erratic heartbeats ~chapter 5: she sells seashells by the sea—ohmygod SHE'S DROWNING~

⚠️Minor Swearing⚠️

Legend: "English unless stated otherwise" --- 'Thoughts' --- "Telepathically speaking" --- [Authors' Note]

——————————

'Ah, the beach... I would've enjoyed your sand today if it weren't for my parents forcing me to go out' Azumi sits on her beach mat, an umbrella implanted behind her and shielding her from having heatstroke. 'A shame, Atsumi-san reported me for being closed in my room all summer. They never really did like me, I suppose.'

The psychic let out a sigh, her hand moving to shut all the thoughts around her up and wrap her arms around her knees. 'I don't understand how people can be so sociable.' Azumi commented, turning her head at the party going on near her. '... and loud.'

She thought the noise was getting louder, so she decided to pack and move to a different, and quiter spot on the beach. Wearing her sunglasses, she began her search for a new place to sit. The sound of the party slowly fades as she walks away from her previous position. 'Atleast they're having fun.'

The wind felt nice on her skin as it gently blows against her. Azumi was watching the swaying palm trees as she saunters on the cemented sidewalk, when a stray pebble made its way into her footwear. Cringing, she raised her foot to shake off the small stone, successfully relieving it from its discomfort. However, due to her movements, she accidentally stabs the back of someone with the end of her umbrella, earning a yelp from the aforementioned someone.

"SHIT. I'm so so sorry—" The situation surprised Azumi, as well as the poor person who was hurt from her carelessness. She extended her free hand to help support the boy—who looked oddly familiar to her—as he stands up.

"It's fine. Just be careful next time—"

"Hairo-san?" Azumi finally recognized the person in front of her once he turned around to face her, she lifted her sunglasses and laid them on top of her head. Hairo had a hand stretched behind him to sooth the spot in his back that had been jabbed, when he saw the familiar face of his classmate. Before he could greet her though, she already started talking. "I'm sorry for stabbing you with my umbrella. I was distracted because there was a pebble in my slipper; and I didn't see you because I was making sure the pebble was out and not providing discomfort to my foot. I should've looked at where I was going. I—" Azumi shut herself up by covering her own mouth after realizing she was rambling. "Again, I'm so sorry, Hairo-san."

Kineshi laughed at her reactions, successfully lightening the atmosphere. "It's alright, Kanasawa-san. It's good to see you."

His words brought a smile on Azumi's face. She liked his presence, because he always seems to bring her out of her shell at the right times, plus he's the kindest to everyone he meets. Atleast, that's what Azumi sees in him. "You too. By the way, what brings you here?" She gestured at the whistle he picked up from the ground after dropping it out of shock from their encounter.

"Ah, well, I volunteered as a lifeguard—" Hairo was cut off by a yell followed by splashing, a tell-tale sign of someone slipping into the water. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" He was already sprinting down to the shore.

'Kusuo-san, Kaidou-san and Nendou-san? Surprise to see them here.' Azumi thought, walking astray from the sidewalk and following Hairo.

He dived into the shallow waters, the force pulling down his pants, as he lifts the seemingly unconscious Kaidou. 'Hairo-san does have a knack of not wearing underwear.' Azumi sweat dropped, at his partial nudity. She layed her things on the sand close to Saiki and sat down, having decided that this spot was suitable.

"Oh, it's you Hairo!" Nendou greeted as Hairo stood up, holding Kaidou as he lay limp in his arms.

As Kineshi took notice of Nendou and Saiki's presence, Azumi is left puzzled. 'How did he pull up his pants while holding Kaidou?'

Hairo walks out of the water and places Kaidou on the sand in front of Azumi's mat, as if nonverbally saying 'look after him' and moving on to answer Nendou. 'It's a mystery to me how you don't see Kusuo-san as capable for this.' Azumi was about to turn off her power limiter to see how much water her friend inhaled, when the boy in front of her stirred, halting her hand mid-air. Saiki, who has been silently watching, squinted his eyes at this. "Kaidou-san, are you okay?" Azumi loomed over his head, with some of her hair that failed to be pushed back by her hand falling down and tickling his face.

She was too late to gather the ones that hanged, sitting back and expecting the sneeze Kaidou let out. Azumi grimaced, eyebrows knitted and looking apologetic, "eesh... sorry." moving to kneel beside him as he sat up. She hesitated to hold his shoulder as he coughed out the water that entered from his nose and mouth, instead she gave pats on his back, attempting to help get rid of any excess sea water.

Once Kaidou settled down, he took notice of Azumi's presence, having been the first face he saw after regaining consciousness. "Ka–Kana–Kanasawa-san?! Wh–What–HI."

His response relieved her, Azumi let out a sigh before smiling at him. "Hi to you too, Kaidou-san."

——————————

"Ugh... who's at the door this early in the morning..." Azumi groaned, dragging herself out of her room and in the hallway in front of her door that overlooks the front yard and gate. She had a hand on her ear cuff, sluggishly twisting and turning, in order to deactivate it. "And on the day Atsumi-san isn't here."

Atsumi was hired only for the duration of the summer break to maintain the lavish look of the Kanasawa manor, with a weekly day off for them to refresh themselves. Yesterday was their last work day before the next term starts.

Azumi squinted her eyes at the person in front of their gate, wanting to confirm herself despite the person's thoughts distinctly confirming almost her every doubt. "Hairo-san?"

'Hmm... Kanasawa-san isn't answering the intercom. Maybe she's not home.'

'What kind of teenager is up and about at 7 am on the last day of summer?' Azumi sighs, wanting to go back to bed, but her drowsiness has already left the moment she used her powers. 'Apparently, people like Hairo-san'

'I came here to return Kanasawa-san's beach mat and umbrella that she left yesterday...' He looked down on the bag he was holding.

Realization hit Azumi like a wreaking ball, as her mouth dropped, her hand raising to cover it. 'Oh yeah... That's what I forgot...' No wonder the feeling of having forgotten something never left her until she went to bed.

'Well then, I'll just give this to her at school tomorrow.' Hairo turned and was about to leave.

'No way, I'm not carrying those at school.' Azumi already teleported behind her home's front doors, creaking one open and successfully halting Hairo from his departure.

"Ah, Kanasawa-san! Sorry to bother you, but you left your beach mat and umbrella yesterday" He exclaimed once he saw the figure of Azumi walking towards the gate.

"No, I'm sorry to bother you, Hairo-san. You came all this way to bring me back my things" She opened gate and took the bag from Hairo's extended hand. "Thank you..." Azumi smiled at him.

'Oh My, My Dear, forgetful as you are, you're so rude. Invite him in. Invite the guest in. Invite him in.' She froze. She thought she heard the voice of her mother, but remembered she was at work. "... in...?" She hadn't realized she spoke before it was too late.

"In?" Hairo repeated, confused at the dazed look his classmate was showing. "Ah! Are you asking me to come in, Kanasawa-san?"

Azumi felt embarrassed for spacing out in front of him, she answered in confirmation. "yes...?" It sounded unsure and more like a question, but Hairo laughed it off and thought it was her usual shyness that was preventing her from speaking clearly. "I–Come in, Hairo-san." Azumi opened the gate wider for her classmate to enter.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm sorry, Kanasawa-san. Today's my last day as a volunteer lifeguard. I have to do my best until the end!" Hairo was determined; he almost always is.

"oh thank god" She felt relieved he declined, wanting to be alone for the rest of the day to prepare for school tomorrow.

"Hm? Did you say anything, Kanasawa-san?" Hairo was distracted at his self-motivating thoughts. He turned to Azumi, who simply shook her head as a reply, a tight smile displayed on her face.

"Good luck, Hairo-san" She closed the gate before letting out a sigh.

'Even without her physically being here, I can feel my mother's criticism on everything I do' Azumi agonized, comical tears streaming down her face as she clenches her fist in frustration.

Teleporting to her room, a weird clinking sound came from the bag Hairo gave to Azumi. 'Hm?' She peeked inside, there was her umbrella sticking out, her mat neatly folded in and... are those seashells?

They were pretty, Azumi confesses, and had unique shapes, but she doesn't remember picking them up yesterday. She may be quite forgetful, but she knows she isn't one to get everything that catches her eye. No, that would be her mother.

'Why did Hairo-san give me seashells? Strange.'

——————————

A new semester starts at PK Academy. Some classmates were complimenting Hairo on his new tan, while most of them were flocking around Teruhashi, surprised to find out she had an eye on someone special.

Azumi was sitting in her designated chair, observing around her classroom, when she cringed at Teruhashi's sly excuse after she accidentally yelled and broke her perfect figure. 'Who in the world is Yurwei Offidjot?' She facepalmed, feeling vicarious embarrassment on Teruhashi's act.

Though, Kaidou, who was standing behind Saiki, misunderstood Azumi's actions. "Hey, Saiki, Kanasa—huh? Are you okay, Kanasawa-san?" Azumi lowered her hand, turning her head to face Kaidou.

"huh...? Ah, yes." She absentmindedly nodded. He looked weird today, with his hair styled strangely and sporting an eyepatch over his eye.

"Really? Well, if you're not feeling well, just tell me—us! Just tell us—! We're you're friends, right?!—"

"Get to the point, Kaidou" Saiki cut him off before he spiraled.

"O–Oh, right. Don't you think Nendou is acting strange today?" Kaidou stuttered, before glancing at the mentioned guy sighing and shifting his hand all over his face. "Normally, he'd be bugging us to get ramen or something"

"True. He is acting a little strange."

Kaidou and Saiki planned to stalk Nendou after suspecting him to be hiding something, and invite Azumi with them. However, "Azumi-san! Please help me!" Yumehara appeared next to her and dragged her out of the classroom, leaving the two boys to spy by themselves.

She dragged the psychic into a more secluded place, behind the school. "I don't know anyone to talk to about this, but please hear me out, Kanasawa-san!" Yumehara started, her voice cracking at the end. "My boyfriend, Takeru, and I haven't been getting along, and I think we're growing apart..." She sobbed, holding onto Azumi's forearms for support.

Azumi sweat dropped, not knowing what to do or how to comfort her. "Ah, I thought you liked Kusuo-san. When did you get a boyfriend?" At her words, Yumehara raised her head, showing the tears that were trailing down her cheeks.

"That's another problem! I think my crush on him is resurfacing..." She weeped, wiping her cheek. "Takeru used to be so romantic..."

"here we go..."

"He loves to say this phrase, but he's so repetitive at it. It's getting a bit tiring. And when he finally says something different..." Yumehara cringed at her memories, earning furrowed eyebrows from Azumi. "... it made no sense and turned me off."

Azumi nervously laughed, grabbing Yumehara's hands and holding it in hers. "I see. I appreciate you telling me all this, Chiyo-san, but I'm not the best choice to ask for love ad—"

"That's not all. Takeru's feet stink, he makes lots of noise when he eats, and he holds chopsticks weird, too. He's very condescending to store clerks, he's got terrible fashion sense, and he kills the mood at get-togethers all the time by dislocating his jaw..." Yumehara cut her friend off, enumerating all of her boyfriend's flaws. "These days, all I can see are his faults"

'Good grief. I normally couldn't care less about other people's relationships, but she might go after me again if they break up.' Azumi resisted the urge to look up and at the watching Saiki.

"okay, alright... What do you want me to do, Chiyo-san?"

"I predict that Takeru would bring me on a date later, before he walks me home. I want you to follow behind us, and if anything goes wrong, (like if we break up), atleast I have someone to be there for me." Yumehara turned away mid-sentence, whispering something inaudible—for an ordinary person—before continuing.

Azumi's features softened at her words. 'She just needs a friend.' She nodded, earning her a hug from Chiyo.

"Thank you, Azumi-san!"

.

.

.

'That's Chiyo-san's boyfriend?' Azumi thought, standing by the gate while holding open a book.

"Sorry to make you wait. Now that I'm here, the rain in your heart is—"

"Oh, it's fine. I just got here too." Yumehara didn't even let him finished, as she deadpanned at him.

'I'm guessing he was about to repeat his usual phrase Chiyo-san got tired of.' Azumi raised her eyebrows at the sight of Saiki behind one of the pillars of the entrance. 'Ah, he did say to himself that he wanted to salvage their relationship.'

"Wanna do something? Go somewhere?" Takeru started, walking beside Yumehara as they leave campus.

"Either is fine." Chiyo boredly replied.

"Then let's go somewhere."

"I can't go too far."

As the couple conversed, Azumi pretended to be busy reading her book as she follows behind. 'It'll be awkward to walk behind them with Kusuo-kun.' She resisted the urge to sigh, instead, she placed her free hand in her pocket. 'The two are heading to the town center... Maybe I can just stop by one place and wait until something bad happens to Chiyo-san.'

Azumi already turned a corner, opting for a shortcut to the town center and get ahead of the couple and Saiki. 'It beats having to act like I'm reading. And besides, Kusuo-san will be there to make sure everything goes perfectly.'

•°●•°●•°●

Azumi found a quiet café to rest and wait, having ordered a slice of cake to not raise suspicion. Her power limiter was turned off for her to listen to the thoughts of the people around her, primarily Saiki's, so as to keep track of Chiyo's actions.

Yumehara and Takeru's date was going smoothly, thanks to Saiki and his powers. 'I wonder when can I control mine like how Kusuo-san can control his.' Azumi sighed, lightly envying Saiki's ability to use his varying psychic powers at will.

'Her favorability meter is at ♡95♡. There's no way they can break up now, right?' Azumi had a bad feeling, suspecting that Saiki likely jinxed everything after thinking that. She stood up, grabbed her bag and dashed out of the shop.

'Good thing I paid after ordering.' Azumi headed to the direction of the Okonomiyaki place that Yumehara entered with her boyfriend. 'What is this 'favorability meter' anyway...?'

.

.

.

Saiki was about to turn and go home, having done so much for Yumehara's relationship, when he heard a yell from inside the Okonomiyaki shop. A voice belonging to a condescending, insensitive young man.

♡67♡

Takeru removed his shoes, his stinky feet fumes invading the air. "Man, I'm starving!"

♡49♡

He held up his hand that had his fingers weirdly tangled in his chopsticks. "Time to eat!"

♡31♡

He began chewing with his mouth open.

♡00♡

"... I can't take this anymore!" Yumehara ran out of the restaurant, crying as she leaves. "Goodbye!"

"Huh? Hey..." Takeru tried following after her, but he stopped at the restaurant's entrance, still chewing his food with his mouth open. "What's her problem?"

Azumi arrived just as Yumehara was about to bump into her. "Woah, hey. Are you alright, Chiyo-san?" She held the crying girl's shoulders to keep her upright, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Yumehara peeked through the space between her fingers, immediately wrapping her arms around Azumi's neck once she saw it was her friend in front of her. "Wahh, Azumi!" The sudden physical contact distressed the psychic, she froze. "I broke up with my boyfriend!"

"... Um... There, there...?" Azumi hesitated, trying to choose her words right. She panicked when Yumehara cried louder, earning a few stares from the people passing by. "fuck, wrong words... um... ice–Ice... cream...?"

Yumehara sniffled, wiping her tears after withdrawing her arms from Azumi. "Ice cream?" She repeated, before brightening up a bit. "Yeah, ice cream will probably cheer me up after all that."

Azumi sighed in relief at her response. "Alright, I'll treat you to some ice cream."

——————————

"Kanasawa-san...!" Kaidou called out to Azumi as she walks along the school's hallways. She turned at the call of her name, just as Kaidou reached her. "I, the Jet Black Wings, will be holding a meeting later after school."

Kaidou had his hair covering one of his eyes, a serious look plastered in his face. "I have assembled formidable seni—no, allies in our quest to defeat Dark Renunion and stop their human seperation plan. We'll gather behind the school and discuss our plans." He turned and walked the opposite way Azumi was heading.

'Oh? He made friends, good for him.'

.

.

.

Azumi was fiddling with her ear cuff as she walks to the back of the school. Kaidou has always been talking to her about the secret organization of Dark Reunion, how overpowered he is despite the initial impression, and the reason behind his bandaged limb. She asked once about the torn hems of his shirt, pants and blazer, and was met with,

"I go through difficult battles everyday before school. Dark Reunion has been sending assassins after me, and I don't want to get the school involved, so I defeat them all before the morning bell rings."

Even though his thoughts reveal otherwise,

'I cut the hems of all of my uniforms, because it makes me, the Jet Black Wings, look cool.'

Azumi keeps hearing from others, even from Saiki, about how Kaidou has eight-grader syndrome. She searched about it, since it was the first time she heard about the syndrome, and was intrigued.

"Ah, Kanasawa-san, you're here." Azumi reached their meeting spot. There was Kaidou, but no sign of any one else. "The others are probably running late." He seemed to know what Azumi was thinking.

She nodded, walking towards him and laying her bag down on the bench. "How many are the 'others' we waiting for?" She knows Saiki was one of the others, having felt his presence nearby as he silently watches.

"There are four more, counting Saiki" Kaidou crosses his arms, trying to act tough and collected, but his thoughts were panicking. 'What if they don't show up?! That just means I wasted Kanasawa-san's time...! No Shun, they will come! The fate of the world rests on our hands! We have to be ready for Dark Reunion's next attack!'

•°●•°●•°●

'... they didn't come...' Kaidou sulked on the opposite end of the bench they were sitting. About 2 hours have passed, and the sun was shining just over the horizon. He hung his head low, his bangs covering most of his face. '... I wasted Kanasawa-san's time...'

Azumi hid her frown, head turned to her sad companion.

"Is he still there?" She piqued at the laughters her heightened hearing heard. She subtly looked up and saw the peeping heads of three seniors. "Yeah, dude, he's still there." They continue to fail to stifle their laughter.

Azumi faced front, trying to act like she was patiently waiting with Kaidou and ignorant of the three seniors' set up. She sensed the seniors peer over the window, leaning each of their elbows on the window frame, thinking he wouldn't look up and call them out. "What a loser. You were right when you said he had eight grader syndrome so bad." The three made fun of what Kaidou said to them when they first approached him, disparagingly mimicking his words.

"Haha, right?!—Hey, who's that chick with him?" One of them pointed out, the rest looking down in curiosity. "This is the first I've seen her. Is she a freshman?"

"I don't know."

Kaidou stood up, drawing Azumi's attention as she turned her head. The seniors ducked under the window. "I'm sorry I brought you here for nothing, Kanasawa-san." He grabbed his things and walked away with a half-hearted wave. He didn't bother to turn and look at her, he was too ashamed to. "I'll see you tomorrow."

This time, Azumi openly knit her eyebrows, worried of the effects of this prank to his mental state, before her expressions turned terrifyingly blank. An eerie and powerful aura surrounds her as her ear cuff lit up like a strobe light, indicating that it was trying to control the haywire burst of power coming from within the psychic.

"Ah, that was fun. Let's go."

"Hey, are we still on with our maze run?"

'Maze run... ?! They still have the nerve to go and have fun after fooling the poor heart of Kaidou?!'

"Heck yeah, come on."

'You all will pay for what you did to Kaidou...'

Azumi properly dealt with the three pieces of trash.

But she did not kill them. unfortunately

.

.

.

'Is she... really a psychic like me?'

——————————

Azumi was worried for Kaidou after yesterday, but he reassured her today by acting like usual. "I feel a great disturbance in the air today. What is Dark Reunion planning?"

"Let's go eat ramen!" Nendou exclaimed, as he walks home with Kaidou, Azumi and Saiki.

Azumi tried to walk behind them, but Nendou and Kaidou insisted she walks first, next to Saiki. So there she was, nervous out of her mind and mindful of her gait and expressions.

"Huh...?" She turned to see what grabbed Nendou's attention, stopping the other two in their tracks. "They installed a new playground over there... And there are no kids playing on them!"

"W–Wait—! Nendou!" Kaidou tried to stop him, but he was already running towards the monkey bars that seem too high for a small child to climb. "Hey, you can't play on those!"

Kaidou ran after him. 'Good grief. Those guys have the minds of preschoolers.' Saiki peeked at Azumi beside him. She had such an ignorant expression, with her eyebrows raised and mouth opened slightly, curiosity dancing in her eyes. 'Her expression right now is such a far cry from the one she made yesterday.' His eyes followed Azumi as she walks to sit on one of the swings.

Saiki observed the scene for a few seconds. Kaidou and Nendou were shouting at each other over the slide, while Azumi sits and watches them argue. 'This is probably the best time for me to go home now.' Saiki thought and turned to walk away.

"Hey Saiki...!" Kusuo clicked his tongue and faced Kaidou. "Come over here and tell Nendou that this is a jungle gym and not a prison for little kids!"

"I'm not the only one here. Ask Kanasawa." Despite the uninterested façade, Saiki walked over and sat on the other swing next to Azumi.

"See?! He said it's a jungle gym!"

"I said no such thing"

"Huh?! I thought it's a jail for children..."

"Idiot! Why would they add a jail for children in a park?!"

Saiki peeked once more at Azumi as Kaidou and Nendou continue to yell. 'She's awfully quiet today' He commented, assuming she knows that he knows about her previous usage of psychic powers.

Just after he finished his thought though, the girl spoke up, pointing at one of the playground equipment. "What's that called?" She asked, like a child.

Nendou and Kaidou ceased their argument, turning their heads at where she was pointing. "Merry-go-round?" Kaidou whispered the answer.

"Ah, that! It's a round-and-round-and-round!" Nendou gave Azumi a thumbs up while walking towards it.

"No, it's a merry-go-round! A. Merry. Go. Round!" Kaidou ran in front of the jock, and stepped up on the merry-go-round in efforts to seem taller.

Nendou took the opportunity to spin the playground equipment, causing his friend, who went ahead and climbed aboard it, to scream from the top of his lungs.

"NENDOU...! THAT'S ENOUGH, PLEASE!"

•°●•°●•°●

The street lights were already on by the time Azumi and Saiki were walking towards their houses, the sun having set minutes ago. They just came from having a ramen dinner with Kaidou and Nendou, and were now heading home.

The two grew used to the silence that falls on their atmosphere whenever they walk together. It was one of the rare quiet times Saiki gets after dealing with nuisances everyday, and he appreciates it. While in Azumi's case, she grew tired of the constant nervousness she feels at these times, so she gave up in filling the silence.

"See you tomorrow, Kusuo-san."

Azumi entered the gates of her house, still feeling the happiness from the afternoon's activities. And, oh, how she wished she knew what was coming for her once she entered the doors of her home.

"You're home late, Zumi-chan..."

Azumi froze in her steps, the small—almost nonexistent—smile on her face dropping. She was just about to walk past the open doors of the main living room, when she heard the voice of her father. She turned her head, hoping she was mistaken and was just hallucinating. She immediately regrets.

"Come here, my dear. Sit down." Akina, her mother beckons, as she was seated on one of the single seats. Aiken, her father, was seated on the other, opposite of his wife. A coffee table was laid in front of their diagonally-positioned seats, then a camelback sofa facing them.

Azumi didn't want to, but it would seem rude or even disrespectful to ignore her parents. Her legs shook, but with every step she takes, it would become almost unnoticeable. She was nervous, because this was the first in such a long time where they would talk face-to-face and was not over dinner. Atleast when conversing over food, she could avoid the discussion under the guise of eating. But right now, there are no distractions.

Once Azumi sat down in front of her parents, she stayed silent to let one of them start the conversation.

"Now, why were you late to go home?" Akina was the first to talk.

The young Kanasawa felt like she was in an interrogation room. The pressure she feels over the two pairs of eyes staring at her is overwhelming. "I... was out with friends... mom, dad." She tried to speak coherently, drawing out false confidence by raising her chin to meet her parents' eyes. "... We... stopped by the park and ate dinner at—"

"Who are these friends of yours?" Aiken cut her off.

"Kaidou Shun, Nendou Riki, and—"

"What did your group do for you to be home at this time?" Aiken continued.

"... We stopped by the park and ate dinner at Hayanari's ramen shop—"

"You had ramen for dinner?" The tone Akina used to state her words were heart-racing, and not in the good way.

"uh—Yes... mom."

"Hm, is that so?" The mother leaned back in her seat, meeting her spouse's stare for a moment before redirecting her gaze at her child in front of her. "Tell me, about your friends... Are they psychics?"

"..." Azumi hesitated at this, but tried to quickly recover. "No but–"

"If that's so, then why are you still hanging out with them?" Azumi's façade almost slipped at her mother's comment.

'She didn't let me finish.'

"You should be training your powers before it gets out of hand." Aiken spoke up. "Because of how late your powers awakened, you don't have much control over it than if you had them sooner."

'Ah, we're back at it with my powers again.' Azumi lowered her eyebrows and turned to look at the roaring fire in the fireplace, a little upset at the shift in conversation. Big mistake.

"Kanasawa Azumi. Look at us when we're talking to you." Her mother pronounced her full name, indicating that the topic has turned serious. "I don't remember teaching you such disrespectful manners."

'That's because you didn't. You and dad are gone most of the day, all week, every month.' She frowned this time, angry to the point of tears. She hid her gritted teeth and resisted the urge to glare at them.

"What's this...? You're talking back now?" Aiken stood up when his wife did. She was surprised, but soon that shock turned into irritation and disapproval.

'fuck' Azumi made the mistake of not shutting her mouth, because of her tendency to speak what's on her mind becoming a more common plot tool of the author to cause drama.

"What has gotten into you, Azumi?" Aiken tried to make sense of their daughter's sudden attitude. "Ever since you've started attending traditional school, you've been more recluse and irritable."

"Yes, you avoid us at dinner. And I suppose those friends of yours may also have an impact." Akina huffed, crossing her arms before sitting back down, her husband slowly following suit.

"what... what are you saying?" Azumi mumbled, suspicious of her parents' next words.

"I guess you'll have to go back to homeschooling if PK Academy has that much of an effect on you." At her mother's words, Azumi feels like she was electrocuted by lightning.

In her surprise, she jolted up on her feet. "That... That won't do, mot—mom... Wasn't the reason you've placed me in a traditional school was to well-round me? To cover the 'social skills' I lack?!" Azumi tried to reason, giving up on masking her emotions. "Mom, it's about time I meet people who can give me perspective into the life I wasn't able to live...!"

"Enough with this attitide! The whole reason we ever enrolled you here was to expose you to a more experienced esper...!" Akina didn't realize her slip-up until Aiken called her name.

"I—You... what?"

——————————

|A/N|

discuss the plot holes of "erratic heartbeats" with us! @ the link in my bio.

#fluff...? #original character #reverse harem #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki kusuo no psi nan cast #i sprinkled a little angst at the end

[brokenjardaantech]

gloves

part of the groom lake aftermath series set quite a long time after everything i’ve posted.

pairing: simarkus

summary: 

markus gives simon a pair of gloves.

also on ao3

---

Simon has just put baby Vesti to sleep when he catches Markus smiling at nothing in particular. What puzzles him even further is how his husband also immediately gets up from where he is looking at a tablet on the sofa and disappearing into the closet to change, emerging like he is ready to go out despite the fact that it’s already 20:00 and most places in the colony are closed, and he can’t help but follow him to the front door where he is putting on a coat.

{Where are you going?} Simon asks through the bond between their minds because he doesn’t want to wake their child up. {It’s late.}

[A parcel just arrived,] Simon doesn’t remember seeing Markus this excited before apart from… never. The PL600 suddenly wants to kiss the face-splitting smile off his face and interface with him so that he knows what is making his husband so happy. [I’ll go out and collect it real quick.] Then Simon suddenly finds himself involved in a slow, gentle kiss, but Markus pulls away before he can deactivate his skin to initiate an interface. [Don’t worry, it’s something for you.]

He is disappearing into the darkness outside before Simon can react, and there is nothing he can do apart from pacing quietly around the house and waiting for his husband to return. Usually they would be at least cuddling on the sofa with their minds joined, but now that Markus is gone for his mysterious package that apparently contains something for Simon, he can only emulate it by wrapping a weighted blanket around himself on their bed. Far from the real thing and not nearly as comforting, but it will do for now. His stupid brain somehow always thinks that being alone means he’s back in that stupid cabin on that stupid ship, and the blanket, which is soft and smells like Markus and is nothing close to the standard-issue things they were all forced to wear and use during that painful trip that also changed not only humanity’s but also the entire galaxy’s history, serves as one small ‘no you’ to his stupid brain by telling it that he is safe in their home where Ryder and her people won’t be able to find them. Still, he resorts to his bad habit of holding his wrist close to his body with his other hand with a force tight enough for the skin to retract because it is the only thing preventing him from screaming and waking Vesti up right now, and that is how Markus finds him when he returns from the post office with the promised package with him.

[Love?] he asks no doubt from where he is changing back into his robe in the closet. The package has been deposited somewhere on the bed, but with his entire body hidden by the weighted blanket, it’s hard for Simon to pinpoint where it is. [Are you alright?]

Markus’ voice soothes his racing heart for a bit, but it takes a few moments to gather his courage to exit the safety and comfort from underneath the blanket and peek out with his nose still covered by the fabric, and of course Markus is in nothing but a pair of worn boxers and a maroon dressing gown that he doesn’t even bother to tie up. Sometimes Simon is convinced that the RK200 is doing it because he knows what it does to him, and the PL600 knows that he himself isn’t any better; sometimes he just throws on a loose shirt and a pair of boxers because it’s more convenient this way, but most of the times? He does it because he knows the effect that outfit has on Markus. He would’ve been climbing his husband if his curiosity wasn't nagging him about the parcel at the back of his mind. ‘I am now,’ Simon answers out loud as he slides out from where he was under the blanket until it is only covering his legs. ‘What have you got?’

Markus climbs onto the bed and crowds into Simon’s side before pulling the package onto his lap with a raise of his hand and a crackle of blue. He doesn’t open it at once, however, and instead covers Simon’s hand with his own and intertwines their fingers together while his skin deactivates. Simon does the same, their chassis slightly glowing as they initiate their interface, and Markus’ presence in his mind calms him even further despite the fact that their wrists are in contact with each other. He leans against his husband with his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes, allows himself to enjoy the interface for a moment. It’s early still.

He tenses when he feels Markus’ other hand touch his wrist. He knows Markus won’t hurt him and enter his mind without his permission - hell, they’re even interfacing right now - but sometimes his body just forgets that he is safe now and acts defensively first, and he doesn’t know if it breaks his own heart more or Markus’. Yet another ‘gift’ Ryder left them during the one last fight for dominance over humanity, and deep down he knows that it has nothing to do with her as well; it’s just him still being unable to get over that one single trip. Then he feels Markus kiss his temple.

‘That’s why I got this for you,’ Simon feels him shift through their contact, and he opens his eyes just to see his husband opening the package with some precise biotic tendrils. His thoughts must have leaked to Markus through their interface. ‘I had to customise them to fit what I want to give you but… may I put them on for you?’

Put them on? Simon wants to ask, but soon he understands what Markus is talking about. Unfolding in front of their eyes as the RK200 lifts them up is a pair of evening gloves, and when Simon scans the fabric, his system tells him that it’s made out of one of the very few materials in the galaxy that can block interface signals from androids - and yet it is also nothing like the bulky ones he has seen or heard of before. When Simon reaches out to take them in his hands, they are light and smooth to the touch. Markus holds out his hands to ask for the gloves back, rolling one of them up carefully before sliding them onto Simon’s arm with one smooth motion, and Simon is mesmerised by the sensation of the fabric against his skin. It is cool and soft and he doesn’t feel any seams at all even though he has deactivated his skin up to his upper arm, halfway up which is where the glove ends, staying on and sticking despite the lack of detectable grip on the inner linings. And it is interfaceable from this end too, a notification popping up in his HUD telling him that he can change the colour of the glove he is wearing. He blinks it away to leave the original colour for now.

‘You ready for the other one?’ there is something in Markus’ eyes, something that Simon would’ve known that it means when he isn’t so focused on his shiny new piece of cloth, but he does hear the question and gives a tiny nod because he is still processing… everything, and Markus rolls the other glove onto his other arm in a similar fashion, letting go of Simon completely so that they aren’t directly touching at all; they do maintain their interface through the weighted blanket and their legs, because as he plays with the settings and interfaces with his gloves to absorb the information packet attached, Simon isn’t sure if he can find the words to express his gratitude and joy.. A lightweight glove that covers most of his arm and blocks interface from the outside but not the other way round, which means no one is going to accidentally interface with him with a brush of their arms. 

Which means even if Ryder somehow manages to find them, she won’t be able to use her old grab-and-forcefully-interface method anymore, eliminating one of the greatest fears Simon has since that fateful trip to the galactic core.

‘I know you don’t feel safe exposing your arms and most clothes either don’t cover your hand at all or at least leave your fingertips exposed,’ Markus starts explaining. He looks a bit shy as if he is uncertain whether he did the right thing or not. ‘Normal gloves won’t solve the problem of the sleeves not covering your hands because they can always ride up so… Can’t go wrong with long gloves and sleeves, can we?’

And Simon can imagine it: him putting on his gloves before donning an interface-proof shirt so that all it is left of the places people can touch directly and interface with him are his neck, his face, his head, all of which only Vesti and Markus can touch without losing a digit to an angry biotic android or an involuntary biotic outburst, ensuring that there will be no forced interfaces, no sidecarring in his own mind while whoever initiated the interface rummage around his mind for that one single programme that they want to use, no more being used as a component of a greater network that will leave him drained for the rest of the day or even days. He will be able to go out with his family without constantly trying to avoid other people which is virtually impossible.

He will finally have some resemblance of a normal life even if it takes two layers of fabric on his arms no matter the season and weather.

‘I know it doesn’t solve the issue from the root, but I don’t want you to be afraid anymore. You deserve to be happy and live without fear.’

His heart soaring, Simon throws his arms around Markus just in time for his tears to fall. Tears of relief, of joy, of love; he sobs into Markus’ shoulder because he doesn’t know how else to express himself, and he doesn’t even know that he has deactivated most of his skin to be as close to his husband as he can be both physically and mentally until he realises that the coolness against his skin isn’t from Markus’ robe but is from the other android’s bare chassis showing and brushing against his own. He feels a pair of large hands patting his shoulder, rubbing circles on his back, sliding down the bumps and valleys of his spine until it nearly touches his buttocks but not quite yet, and he feels his strength drain away completely underneath his husband’s gentle but firm touches. It does remind him that he hasn’t said anything yet, however, and once he starts sending a simple ‘thank you’ to the other side of their interface, it doesn’t seem to stop, and he doesn’t know he can sound so breathless and worn-out in their shared mental space. Well, he does now.

[I’m glad that you like them,] Markus says with patches of his skin still deactivated. [Let’s take them off for now, shall we? We can test them out tomorrow.]

Simon is still too overwhelmed to do it himself so he lets Markus gently glide the fabric off his arm and place them back into the box, and instead of storing it in the walk-in closet that is attached to their bedroom, he merely places it on the bedside table on Simon’s side before returning to his usual side of the bed once more, dropping his gown onto the floor with one smooth motion that shows off his body. Then he crawls up the bed and cages Simon with his limbs, intertwining their fingers together next to Simon’s head on the pillow, their skins retracting to reveal glowing chassis. The air starts to smell of static and eezo, and while it once used to be a source of fear and terror, now he just associates it with Markus, with protection, with home. {Yes,} he answers the question before Markus can ask it. {Always.}

Markus leans down and draws him into a deep kiss, and the two of them are lost in each other’s body and mind for the next few hours.

#simarkus #dbh markus #dbh simon #detroit: become human #groom lake aftermath

[miracle-sham]

Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass.

| {Maribat 2k20 – Day 1: Late Night Discussions} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Sometimes, when secret identities are revealed, you just need a cuppa tea and some reaffirmation—and maybe some cuddles too. |

| Word count: 1534. |

==–==

| A/N: So I really thought SCAB would be my first piece of writing posted on here/for Maribat but then I got mugged in a dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. So uh yeah enjoy. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Heck-heck-heckity-heckles, Marinette chants in her head, desperately needing to find an empty alleyway that she can detransform in. She flicks her yo-yo towards a random skyscraper, and swings her way across the Gotham night skyline, scanning the streets below for somewhere that met her criteria.

 Just as her earrings bleep thrice to signal that she was down to two dots, she spots it, an empty alleyway not in plain view of any roads, or windows. There! She cheers internally, dropping down into the alleyway and whispering a “Tikki, spots off!”

 However, her relief at finding a place to detransform is short-lived, for as soon as the bright pink glow fades away, she's faced with the sight of Red Robin half changed into civvies, domino in one hand. Marinette stares at him in shock, and he stares back. Blinking blankly, she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her "civilian" friends is actually a hero. A hero she's allies with, friends even.

 The two stand there for a solid minute as their brains reboot. Tim cocks his head to one side, gaze flickering between looking her up and down, and staring at her earrings. Marinette also cocking her head to one side but her gaze switches between his bare face and the domino in his hand.

 Once their brains finish rebooting, immediately the two blurt out the first thoughts to come to mind.

 “Tim... You're Red Robin?”–

 –“Wait, Marinette, you've been Ladybug this entire time?”

  Marinette swallowed, blinking back tears, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was in the open with her secret exposed and—oh god, Tim's the first person to know my identity bar Master Fu… This is the first time I've ever had my identity revealed and I didn't even get a choice—She manages to choke down a sob before spitting out, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” The words burning her tongue with the acrid taste of fear.

 He nods sharply—almost more of a jerk than an actual nod. “I agree.”

 Neither makes an attempt to move, both still staring.

 “My place or yours?” She asks, hesitantly, half frowning.

 He nods again, more softly this time, “Mine, but lemme just um…” Gesturing towards the amalgamation that was half his Red Robin suit and half civvies as he speaks.

 Marinette's eyes widen in realisation, practically squeaking, she stutters. “Oh. Uh yeah, sorry!” She stiffly turns her back to him in an act of respect of privacy and cradles her face in her hands as her cheeks flush bright red from embarrassment. God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?

 After about a minute of stewing in her embarrassment, she hears Tim clears his throat from the other side of the Alleyway. “Okay, done.”

 She turns around to face him again, the blush has faded somewhat in the time passed but it's still very clearly noticeable. She can't help but glance at his civilian outfit. “Oh, er, nice?”

 He sort of just blinks at her, rather bemused. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

 An awkward silence hangs over them as they shuffle and dance around each other on their way out of the alleyway. The walk to his theatre house is just as silent and awkward despite the hundreds of questions on each of their lips. A good thing then—Marinette supposes—that we didn't go to my place, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle an even longer awkward silence.

==–==

 They take the civilian route inside—also known as using the door like a sane person—because apparently, vigilantes will only use windows as entrances provided there are windows to enter and that the vigilantes in question are suited up. Tim spends a good thirty seconds opening his front door, deactivating a bunch of different security protocols most likely. The hallway and lounge lights were already on probably to try and deter potential robbers—the house is in Crime Alley after all—but once they enter said hallway, all the ceiling lights on the first floor switch on.

 Tim guides her to the sofa, which she perches on the edge of, facing the massive fish tank before disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of shuffling feet, cupboards and drawers opening, and the click of a kettle—or perhaps a coffee machine? She can't quite tell from this distance—are the only things to give away what he's doing in there. Marinette has no doubts that he's making the noise on purpose, he's a bat. But she's not quite sure if the noise is because he's comfortable here, or if it's because he's trying to make her feel more welcome?

 A minute later, Tim re-emerges with two teacups in hand. He gently lays both on a coffee table between the sofa and aquarium, one of the cups pushed towards her general direction. He plops himself down on the sofa as well, albeit leaving enough space between the two of them that a third person could sit there.

 She picks up the drink and peers at it, perplexed, for a second, question falling from her mouth before she can stop herself, “Earl Grey? With lemon?” I thought he was a coffee person?

 “Alfred.” Is his clipped response.

 She nods and 'oh's under her breath. That explains it. Marinette takes a sip and her eyes light up. “Oh wow! This is delicious!”

 Tim raises his eyebrows in amusement and snorts but doesn't comment. The conversation lulls again. They sip their tea in silence.

 When Marinette finishes her tea, she carefully puts the mug back down, with an audible clink, on the coffee table. She hesitates and the words Kagami once told her come unbidden to her mind. She grimaces, glances to Tim.

 He's watching her with that calculating gaze of his, however, it seems far more tumultuous in nature this evening. He's hiding his mouth behind his mug like another mask.

 Marinette leans back against the sofa and stares at his ceiling before idiomatically biting the bullet and physical biting her lips. “How long are we going to do this?”

 He freezes. “Do what?”

 She gestures vaguely in the air between the two of them. “This, tiptoe around the elephant in the room or I suppose in our case, the vigilantes in the room.”

 Her phrasing manages to bring a small smile to his face but not a second later it fades and he purses his lips.

 Solemnly, he gives her a once over. “So you're Ladybug then?”

 Marinette huffs. “And you're Red Robin.”

 “Does anyone else know that you're her then?”

 She turns her head away from him, “No, you're…” Her throat closes up and she's forced to blink back tears again. Barely holding back the sniffles, she chokes out the last few words. “You're the only other person to know.”—Not technically a lie, it's not like Master Fu remembers anything about the miraculous, let alone my identity.

 Tim deflates slightly, curling his shoulders inwards. “I wish you had told us before, we could have supported you. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that without help”

 “What? Like Batman didn't start off alone?” Marinette snaps back automatically, no real heat behind her words.

  “Batman's not exactly a pillar of good life decisions or emotional stability.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

 Sighing, she shakes her head and whines, “Tim…”

 “Marinette.” His lips twitch upwards like he's in on some joke she doesn't get, “On the bright side, now we know each other's identities, we can help each other on cases and patrols, or cover for the other in or out the masks.” He offers, sounding so calm and nonchalant.

 Marinette shuffles closer to him on the sofa. “That would be useful. I just. I.” She stutters, brain moving faster than her mouth.

 Tim grins ruefully. “You're worried I'm gonna tell the rest of the bats who you are, right?”

 She curls up instinctively. “Yeah…”

 “Don't worry, they're also detectives. If they can't work out your identity then why should I give them the answer?” He tries to joke but it falls flat.

 “The magic of the Miraculous stops people from making the connection between my two identities.” Marinette responds.

 “Ok, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you away even if they ask.” He also shuffles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

 “Thank you, Tim.”

 “No problem, Mari.”

 Marinette pauses. “So this won't affect our relationship in or out the mask, right? We're still friends?”

 “Of course! This doesn't change a thing.” Tim, emulating Dick, pulls her in for a hug, and if Marinette melts into his arms—well he's not going to say no to that, not when he's so touch starved.

==–==

 When Dick breaks into the house the next morning to check on Tim, seeing as he never checked out for the night nor did he return to the cave, he finds the two cuddled up together—fast asleep on the sofa. He nabs a spare blanket and pulls it over the two of them, snaps a pic to serve as evidence to Tim being okay, and then skedaddles before either can wake.

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML x DC #DC x MLB #Maribat #Timinette #MariTim #Timari #Tim X Marinette #Marinette x Tim #Maribat2k20 #Maribat2k20 Tim x Marinette #Maribat2k20 Day 1 #Maribat 2k20 Late Night Discussions #Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass #OFaHBMoG #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

Knight Rider 2000

WARNING

This post contains spoilers for Knight Rider 2000, the 1991 film which attempts to expand on the canonical universe of Knight Rider (1982-1986).  Key word, attempts.  I know that this film came out almost 30 years ago at this point, but I also know that this fandom grows a little bit every day, and there will ALWAYS be people who haven’t seen every episode (myself included), let alone every movie!  I happened to catch it on Charge! for Hoff's birthday (yes I'm hella late posting this LOL) with my good friend @trust-doesnt-oxidize​, and boy let me tell you, it was… Something.

From here on out, I’m not holding back from sharing my impression of the film based on specific details from it, so if you want a spoiler-free viewing, go watch it and come back!!  Or… don’t, it’s kind of awful.  I can only think of one thing in canon that it may spoil, and even that appears in early Season 2 and is fairly minor, so if you are curious about it, I HIGHLY recommend watching it BEFORE reading this.  The scenes with the most impact are touching because they come as a surprise, so even if you know the general plot of the film, I would recommend watching it first.

Also this is really rambley because I have a lot of emotions about this series and, by extension, this movie.  I really don’t blame you if you click away here, but if you DO read it all the way through, I would love to hear anything you would like to add, agree or disagree!

OKAY!  Knight Rider 2000 is a movie that exists!  And I hate it!

The film sets up an interesting argument between two groups of people whose names I don’t remember because they were boring (except for Devon, I know his name at this point).  In this interpretation of the “future,” gun control has been implemented to,,, some extent, I can’t entirely tell if there have been some policies implemented across the country or if it is all localized in this one city that even the Wikipedia page for this movie doesn’t bother to mention.  And no, this city is NOT in California for once!  Usually I would be happy to see a change of setting, but considering that everything in this film felt so foreign to the Knight Rider that we know, it would have been nice to at least have a familiar setting.  Anyway, gun control stuff.  The debate between whether these gun control policies are ethical or not is very interesting.  Innocent people are dying because the wrong people have guns and the police are rendered useless when they themselves don’t have access to weapons.  This argument happens to support my perspective on the issue, so I appreciated how it took a look at that side WITHOUT it sounding like we are crazy murderer people, but I digress.  It makes sense that the ban happened in the first place, because much like how the main conflict in Pixar’s latest film Incredibles 2 revolves around society’s over-reliance on superheroes, I could see Knight Rider’s society becoming dependent on technology to save them.  It can be easy to seem like the most advanced tech in that society is present only in KITT and KIFT, and to SOME extent that is true.  However, Shawn does say that it is relatively common in this society for people to have memory chips in their brain.  That counts for something.  And the police DO have a defense mechanism according to the Wikipedia page for this movie, it’s just nonlethal.

So as you can see, I am very interested in the conflict this world sets up.  I sure hope they expand on these conflicting ideologies throughout the film, giving us a clearer idea of why the bans were set in place AND giving us insight into what exactly has caused some revolt against it.  That subject is seemingly timeless, and with how decently the introduction tackled it, I have some confidence that this film could pull it off in a tasteful way.  Wouldn’t that be amazing?   It’s some of the most serious subject matter Knight Rider has ever tackled.  It’s so interesting!

Yeah they pretty much abandon that plot in place of a very, very bad copy of the original show’s “Hearts of Stone” (season 1, episode 14).  Illegal guns exist and are bad, but we don’t really know why.  I may know a little better if I had been listening closer, but I was trying to not get so bored that I missed Kitt’s parts!

At some point during this sequence, we are introduced to Shawn, a happy police officer who is happy to have a family on a happy birthday.  And then she gets shot!  Due to head force trauma rendering her unconscious, she’s sent to the hospital.  She goes in for a risky operation that miraculously saves her life against all odds.

Then, Michael wakes up with Garthe Knight’s face and hears a great story about how one man CAN make a difference!… I mean what?  

Jokes aside, it’s kind of amazing how much this very Michael-esque sequence comes across very differently.  It’s almost the perfect example of why I don’t like this movie.  The surgery is weirdly realistic for a Knight Rider entity.  There’s blood and screens and surgeons and a sterile white room for operations.  Michael woke up in a Medieval castle with one doctor and two random people he’d never met at his side.  Shawn’s situation clearly makes more sense, but is it half as fun and whimsical?  No, no it’s not.  This whole film comes across as depressing to me, and it’s only worsened by what’s to come.  Apparently, she had KITT’s CPU/Microprocessor/something sciencey implanted into her brain.  That’s especially strange since all that I saw was a yellow liquid being injected directly into her skull!  That’s a lovely image, and definitely gave me the idea that there was a full computer chip going in there???  (It may have actually been explained more clearly, and I just looked away because eek weirdly bloody operation scene)  This caused her personality to do a full 180.  So, Shawn is going to be fun, snarky, and full of personality like KITT is because they share memories now!  Right?  Right???

I think they tried to do that, but it came across flat.  So flat.  She speaks in a purposefully monotone, robotic voice and delivers downright mean comments that leave Michael and KITT scratching their heads.  She seems to lack basic empathy until her own memories start flooding back, and at that point, the emotions she show seem so foreign to the character we see that it’s not remotely believable.  You want me to believe that this robotic woman with -10 personality points started nearly crying after one string of memories, albeit a very traumatic one, entered her mind?  This would have been believable if she was entirely changed afterwards, coming across as far more human, but that was only the case sometimes.  It also would have been believable if the film had the same energy that the original Knight Rider show does, where suspending one’s disbelief is necessary to make it past the opening credits.  However, this movie tries to be so grounded that the kind of dramatic beats that would work in the original seem forced here.

Shawn is not the only character who I take issue with, though.  Let’s start with the most potentially problematic change from the usual canon in the entire film: KITT’s personality.  I have very mixed feelings on how he is portrayed.  If you’ve seen as much as a spattering of quotes from this movie, you probably could sense that KITT was… off.  When KITT first comes on screen, he slams Michael with a wave of insults, and none of them come off as their normal joking around.  However, I don’t necessarily have a problem with that because he has the proper motivation to be very, very upset.  He is sitting on a desk as a heap of loosely connected parts that have just enough power to make the signature red scanner whir and make an oddly terrifying red light eyeball thing (Hal???) move.  The first thing he hears is Devon nonchalantly saying something along the lines of, “I’m afraid he was recycled” to explain why KITT has been deactivated for OVER A DECADE and is not currently in anything that moves (my Charge! stream thing lagged at this point but @trust-doesnt-oxidize​ has since told me that Devon DID appear upset about KITT's being sold, but KITT likely wouldn't have heard that and what Devon said seemed to be moreso directed at HOW the chip was sold and not the fact that it was sold in the first place).  KITT is justifiably mad, and if they had kept KITT’s actions in character while his emotions said otherwise, I would have no problem with it at all.

However, once KITT’s CPU is somehow implanted into Michael’s Chevrolet, KITT does not act in character.  Shawn drives, not Michael, so it stands to reason that he would not necessarily listen to her.  She stole his CPU, his life for over a decade.  KITT does tend to listen to human companions, regardless of whether he is programmed to or not, but I can see where this would be an exception.  However, Michael soon intercedes and essentially tells him to cut it out.  Based on everything that the original Knight Rider told us, KITT no longer has a choice of whether to listen or not.  Michael is ultimately the one who calls the shots because of KITT’s very programming.  And yet, in this scene, KITT doesn’t listen to Michael and apparently gets so angry that he downright stops functioning.  Because that happens all the time in the original series!

And if you’re wondering where I got the conclusion that KITT frustrated his circuits to the point where they could no longer work, he said that.  KITT.  Admitted to having feelings.  In fact, he did not just admit to being angry in the moment.  He told Michael that, while it may seem like he is an emotionless robot, he does have a “feelings chip.”  A FEELINGS CHIP-

I am for recognizing KITT’s obvious emotions as much as the next guy.  I think they are often overlooked when discussing his character.  While I don’t think that real artificial intelligence will ever reach the level of human consciousness, the entire energy of Knight Rider comes from playing with this concept by portraying an AI character who clearly emotes interacting with a human who doesn’t seem to know that.  But the thing that makes this show feel so sincere is that neither character plays too heavily into that trope.  While not always knowing how much KITT feels and by extension hurting those feelings alarmingly often, Michael recognizes it enough to work in concert with KITT, apologize for his more major flubs, and consider KITT a friend.  And KITT subverts the trope by never recognizing that he has feelings to begin with.  He will say that he cannot feel sadness but, in the next breath, say that something upset him.  He will say he cannot hold a grudge only to immediately rattle off a string of insults directed at the person he clearly has a grudge on.  The show is magic in how these two characters display a subtle chemistry that always has room to grow because both characters are slowly coming to see each other for who they truly are and supporting one another along the way.  From what I can tell, the original show never fully concludes that arc, and it may even start regressing after Season 1.  However, we can feasibly see how Michael could slowly come to understand that KITT really does feel things just as much as he does.  And we can imagine the relief KITT would feel knowing that Michael was never bothered by that possibility.

So, you can see where I have a big problem with KITT spelling it out so plainly.  The audience gets full confirmation about what has been displayed to us through nuanced hints throughout the series, which sounds a lot more satisfying than it really ends up being in this film.  But worse than an underwhelming conclusion to a thrilling story, Michael knows it plain as day.  There is very little buildup to KITT admitting this.  He barely even sounds moved.  Instead, in this movie, the “feelings chip” is a fact of life that does not need to be covered up in the slightest.  Michael himself doesn’t really… react.  He just kind of nods along, as if he’s saying, “Huh, makes sense, alright.”  After everything these two have been through, if there really was such a simple explanation for why KITT is the way he is… why arguments went south, why the mere mention of a Chevrolet was enough to get a seemingly jealous response, why inconsequential things like music taste and gambling were subjects of debate, why KITT had always acted so exaggeratedly dismissive when topics of emotional significance struck a chord, why every little sarcastic banter had a hint of happiness until it didn’t… don’t you think Michael would do something?  Whether that something would be a gentle, “I always knew that, pal”; a shocked, “Why didn’tchya tell me sooner?!”; or even a sarcastic, disbelieving, “Yeah, right” is up to interpretation.  But there would be something.

And yet, even that concept is flawed.  We learn a lot from KARR’s inclusion in the original series, and what I take away from it boils down to a simple sentiment.  FLAG never meant for their AIs to be human.  I do realize that directly contradicts what Devon says within this film, but I see that as another way for the film to steer the plot in this direction, not as a tie in to the original.  When Wilton says that one man CAN make a difference, he means that.  He isn’t considering that KITT is just as much a person as Michael.  He’s not seeing that, at the end of the day, teamwork is what makes the show work, even if Michael is the glue that holds it together.  So, I think that to say that there is a “feelings chip” is to disregard the entire point of the original, that in this world life finds a way of inserting itself and that KITT’s (and KARR’s for that matter) humanity is an anomaly, not the rule.  At the end of the day, KITT’s humanity can’t be explained away with science.  And really, I don’t think it should be explained away at all.  The show has had an amazing trend of showing us how KITT feels, in all its unorthodox glory, alongside private moments that had me sobbing like a baby.  The movie should just be like a longer, more complex episode of Knight Rider… Although I cannot pinpoint exactly how it should be done in the context of this film, I know there are ways that Michael could have been shown that KITT feels rather than being told.

One last complaint, albeit a more minor one, is the idea that he has to listen to what Shawn says over Michael's authority.  I have spent a decent amount of time thinking about this one point, which has caused a lot of the delay in posting this.  There's multiple reasons why this flies right in the face of what is canon in the original series.  Perhaps the most obvious of these problems is the fact that, in the original pilot episode, it's made very clear that KITT can't assume control of the Knight 2000 without Michael's express permission unless Michael is unconcious.  Devon makes it quite clear in this episode that KITT is programmed specifically to listen to Michael, not just anyone who happens to be piloting the vehicle at the time.  In case there was any doubt about this, KITT ejects two people who are attempting to steal him later in the episode (well, ok, later in the two-parter, I don't know if it was the same episode or not).  The show isn't SUPER strict about this in future episodes, but it does at least acknowledge Michael's authority in a few pivotal moments throughout Season 1 (I can't comment on episodes that I haven't seen yet, but I suspect that this pattern continues).  Of all the rules set up throughout the series, it actually seems to be the most loyal to this one.  One moment that stands out to me is in Trust Doesn't Rust when KITT attempts to stop Michael from causing a head-on collision with KARR, but Michael then overrides him and the climax unfolds.  If one of the most iconic moments in the series is caused by this one bit of programming, to throw it out in the film is to disrespect the basis of the original series.

Speaking of KARR, he provides yet another reason niglecting this detail is such a big problem.  From what we can tell, KARR isn't programmed to one specific driver (at least, not anymore[?]), and so he can override anyone in the pilot's seat.  This is something they seem to highlight in TDR as well, although not so plainly as the previous point.  KARR ends up ditching Tony to gain speed and get an upper hand in the chase with Michael and KITT (although a scene they deleted would have made this a mUCH MORE SENSIBLE ACTION THAT R E A L L Y ISN'T A BETRAYAL but y'know what this post isn't about that) whereas KITT has to listen to Michael even to his own detriment.  If this one feature is indeed one of the major things that separates KITT from KARR, the idea that Shawn can override all of that cheapens the original conflict between KITT and KARR.

...Well okay, let's be real, KARR was never that compelling as an antagonist to begin with because he's a LOYAL SWEETIEPIE-- I'll stop.

And finally, we have the biggest, most bizarre reason that this is a problem:

If Shawn can override Michael's authority, that means KITT can override Michael's authority.

Why?  This would be the first time (outside of episodes where some sort of reprogramming or mind control was involved) in the series that KITT had not only listened to another human instead of Michael, but also listened to that person OVER Michael.  The only difference I can see between Shawn and quite literally anyone else in the show's history is that Shawn has KITT's chip implant thing.  If that's the reason her opinion has more credence than Michael's, then wouldn't that mean KITT's own opinion has that authority?  If that is the case, literally every example I've gone through in the last couple of paragraphs is not just challenged but rather negated entirely.

The most frustrating thing about this scene is that it simply didn't have to happen.  Michael could have gone along with KITT's plan, showing him (and us) that he does trust his former partner even after all these years.  Shawn could have convinced Michael to go along with it using her... feelings chip.  Blegh.  Or we could have had a stubborn Michael force this scene to be delayed, likely improving the pacing overall.  Maybe we could have even seen a frustrated and emotionally exhausted Shawn wait until Michael is not in the car and then plead KITT to give her the truth, no matter what Michael says.  We have seen KITT control his actions without Michael's input plenty of times, and we could have seen some more of his humanity show through if he could relate to Shawn's struggles... after all, he too has missing memories because she has his chip.  They're both going through a bit of an identity crisis.  I'm sure that he could find some workaround in his programming to help her if Michael wasn't there insisting that he does not take this course of action.

But even after all of that fussing over what has been done wrong with KITT, I can’t deny that he is the heart and soul of this film.  There was only one scene in this film that brought me near tears.  I got more of an emotional impact from this one clip than I have from a lot of movies that are undeniably much better.  Michael’s old-fashioned Chevrolet does not hold up in the year 2000, and it is clear that the usual car chase sequence won’t work as police vehicles quickly creep up on them.  I was personally very curious what they would do here.  I figured that KITT would find some way to outsmart the drivers of the police cars, maybe by ending up on an elevated mountain road that trips up the other drivers and causes them to waste time turning around and hopping on that same path.  Or, maybe, KITT would access a road that’s too narrow for the relatively bulky police cars.  However, it quickly becomes clear that this city is made up of wide roads on the ground.  As KITT veers off the road and tells Michael to trust him, the I found myself having to trust him.  This isn’t the way Knight Rider chases usually go, and with all these odds stacked against him, the only thing we can do is hold our breath.  The way this scene is staged to send us into this just as blind as Michael is, frankly, genius.  Water slowly creeps into the frame as a feeling of dread builds at the thought of what KITT might do.

Surely, we are led to think, he will knock into some boxes and turn right back around.  Right?  We’re reminded of the fact that this is not the Knight 2000, that there is no chance of this car floating.  That if KITT does what he really seems to be doing, there’s no chance… but he wouldn’t, would he?  This is the only action sequence in the film that had me at the edge of my seat, staring wide eyed at the screen.  And then, the turn that you want so badly to come doesn’t, and you have to wonder what’s about to happen.  What was KITT thinking?  Won’t Michael and Shawn drown?  And, most prominently in my mind, won’t KITT drown?

For a moment, this scene plays us into believing that, because magic FLAG science that is pretty par for the course, everything is fine.  KITT explains that they have an airtight cab and over 20 minutes of oxygen.  Everyone lets out a collective breath of relief.  We see it in Michael and Shawn, and I know I felt myself relax.

And then there’s a flicker in the screen, and that pit in the bottom of my stomach came right back.  Michael is confused, and KITT explains what we should have realized was inevitable.  This is KITT sacrificing himself.  He even goes as far as to let Shawn know that she can use any of his computer chips that she may need.  This comes off as strange at first, but it goes to show that KITT is, at his core, the same kind soul we always knew.  He acts angry because he feels betrayed, but given the choice, he will chose another person’s life over his own, always.  Even the microprocessor that he is most frustrated over, the thing that seems to drive a wedge between him and Shawn, is just how he is expressing his hurt.  Now, thinking it is the end, he offers it up freely, and Shawn doesn’t seem to know how to respond.  KITT is calm as he says his final goodbyes.  And this is the first place in the film that we get to hear the amazingly nuanced  voice acting that William Daniels is so great at.  KITT sounds collected and at peace with what is to come, but there are also subtle hints that he is at least a bit nervous, a bit sad.  “I know.  I guess this is goodbye.”  He doesn’t want to leave his friends, but he knows that he has to for them to be safe.  Even if the pacing of the film seems to actively try to undermine this moment, it stands out to me as an amazing scene, even if the reaction from Michael is underwhelming at best and the reaction from Shawn is… as much as can be expected from Shawn, but that’s not saying much.  As far as KITT knows in that moment, these are his last words: “Michael, take care of yourself.”  Down to the last moment, Michael is everything to him.

IjustwannamakeitclearquicklythatIthinktheirrelationshipisentirelyplatonicokthankyou

And I felt sad, big time sad.  The movie up until that point was unbelievably boring to me, and this wasn’t a turning point where the movie suddenly became great.  It was a moment so darn good that I almost don’t think the movie deserved for it to have as big of an impact as it did.  But that shows just how powerful this universe is, how wonderfully honest these characters are.  Even after being butchered practically beyond recognition, one scene in-character can still bring you to tears because you have connected with them so deeply throughout the TV series.

AND THEN DEVON DIED IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS :D

I don’t like Devon.

Devon was actually more tolerable in this movie than normal, and I can see where people who don’t hate him could be sad that he died  I just,,, he has hurt or talked down to KITT and KARR so many times that I actually could not sympathize.  What’s even more frustrating about that is that Devon’s death is the one that Michael got all sad over when KITT sacrificed his life for him and Devon got kidnapped randomly but okay go off movie you can’t ruin that scene for me.  I knew going in that Devon died, but I was expecting them to spend a lot more time setting it up and making it as dramatic as possible.  Nope, he just got a shot to the old air tanks I guess?  My view of it is nothing more than that it’s a thing that happened.

OH AND DEVON DID PULL ONE HEINOUS ACT.  He said that KIFT was better than KITT in every way other than that KITT has humanity.  SINCE WHEN HAS DEVON GIVEN ONE SINGULAR HOOT ABOUT THE AI’S BEING ALIVE???  TELL KARR THAT???  HECK, TELL DEACTIVATED KITT THAT YOU WERE JUST FINE SELLING OFF AT AUCTION THAT?!?!  Also also, KIFT DOES NOT C O M P A R E TO KITT.  We are coming back to KIFT in a moment, don’t you worry.  For now, I just.  Low blow, Devon, low blow.

Michael was fine too, he played a weirdly small part and that felt off but everything he said seemed pretty in character.  The most out of character parts were when he said nothing at all.  OH AND WHERE HE WAS REPLACING BONNIE but that’s besides the point, no Bonnie OR April… no Bonnie OR April… I’m fine…

…

It feels like this movie wants you to forget that Michael exists because Shawn is here she’s more interesting, right?  Right???

She’s really not.

So back to KIFT.  My favorite part of KIFT is that pronouncing KIFT in your head sounds funny.  It’s like “gift” but if the gift were actually an underwhelming villain of sorts that is overtaken in a garage, parked, by Michael either removing his microprocessor entirely or moving it to a Chevrolet.

I was surprised how not bad KIFT looked.  I had seen stills from the movie that looked really uninteresting compared to the regular designs, and while I still agree to some extent, it was a lot more epic than I would have thought.  Something about how the paint shines on it is captivating.  I was genuinely happy when KITT was moved to the snazzy red vehicle, although a big part of that could have been how disgusting mint green looks with red.  Seriously, including the red scanner on that bizarre seafoamy-bluey car (and yes, I do think it is a very pretty car by itself) was like when people say movies were “inspired” but in the opposite direction.  And the scanner looked weirdly small?  Was it just me?

Am I the only one who feels w e i r d just looking at this??

I think this is the most normal thing to be categorized as being in uncanny valley but there we go, I did it.  It’s not right.

Anyway, as neat as KIFT looks, it is no comparison to the classic Knight 2000 or even Season 3 KARR.  Red can be striking, but not when the classic scanner is also red.  No contrast!

KIFT is absurdly easy to forget, and I don’t think that the car’s design has anything to do with it.  KITT spends most of the movie piloting that car, and while it is not what we are used to, it doesn’t come across as super lame to me, either…or at least, not because of the design.  The biggest problem with KIFT is, I think, simply his voice.  His voice feels so out of place in the movie, and it’s so strange to me considering that Daniels’ voice is integrated just fine.  The recording sounds too crisp, too clean.  KITT’s voice always has a great deal of character, a very Earthy-sounding voice for an AI character.  I actually think that this incongruity is purposeful, and it’s a very clever concept.  We are supposed to recognize that KIFT isn’t human like KITT is.  KIFT sounds out of place in the real world among real people; he’s too neat around the edges.  It’s especially obvious when KITT and KIFT talk to each other.  This is also mirrored by how KITT occupies a well-loved Chevrolet that has little imperfections that make it feel real whereas KIFT is in this red… whatever it is that feels like it comes out of a sci-fi film.  This effect would have really worked if we had enough time with KIFT to understand his personality–or, more aptly, his lack of personality.  What makes this not work is the fact that we spend practically no time with KIFT.  We don’t get to hear what he feels he is programmed to do, we don’t get to hear him deliver the sort of lifeless lines that Shawn did that made her so unlikable, and we don’t even get to hear his voice more than 4-5 times.  Every time comes as a shock, taking us out of the moment of the film.  We could have gotten used to his crisp sound if he had spoken more, and we may have seen the actual plot significance of it.  Instead, it pulls you right out of the movie.

Oh yeah, and the only line(s?) that KIFT delivers to KITT are full-on taunting… that’s not very lifeless of you KIFT.

Alright, just one last thing to really hammer home a point from earlier and conclude this whole thing.  You know what I was saying about this movie lacking the whimsical nature of the TV show?  Well, the final chase puts the icing on this oddly sullen crab cake.

Yes, crab cake. 

Because the pinchy crab that is Shawn makes it quite painful to get this particular cake and icing doesn’t even belong on it anyway.

KITT is racing down the street in this bright red car that I just explained is thematically wrong for him to be driving tbh but whatever, he’s racing in it and comes up to a barricade of randomly stacked up cars.

Oh Yeah, we all know what is coming.

The music swells.  Michael looks at the upcoming barricade with furrowed eyebrows and quietly asks KITT what the heck they’re going to do now.

OH YEAH, we definitely know what is coming.

And at last, for the first time in the film…

KITT veers off to the right and they drive on water.  “It’s really sink or swim with you, isn’t it?” Michael asks, pretending that’s funny as if I am not still emotionally raw from that scene that happened an hour ago.

Apparently, KIFT had that one obscure feature from “Return to Cadiz,” the Season 2 episode where April forces KITT to follow KARR into the ocean on the hopes that waterproof wheels might work maybe, directly ignoring his many attempts to get out of it.  Yay.  I love references to That Episode.  That Episode which baited me with an opening that looked like KARR could have been discovered underwater only to show me that not only was there no KARR, but KITT was going to be bullied into repeating what his brother did when he died.  Wholesome.  Lovely.  Fantastic.  And how did KITT know for sure that would work?  KITT clearly still has some technical hiccups in his own CPU from Michael tampering with it, that was an awful lot of confidence to place in a maybe.

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY…

THIS MOVIE DID NOT HAVE A TURBO BOOST

A TURBO BOOST

I cannot believe that a movie based around Knight Rider did not have a turbo boost (or for that matter, the THEMESONG???).  Like I am honestly still surprised by it.  Almost every episode of the original show had at least one turbo boost, and there is a reason.  The idea of a talking car jumping in midair, sometimes with Michael “WOO!”-ing like a girl, is so fantastically fun that nobody even tries to question how impossible it is.  I think we all know how impossible it is, and that doesn’t matter, it is yet another thing that embodies the heart of this show.

And… not even one.

…

So yeah, that just happened.  I think this is technically a small novel.  Wow.

  I know that I'm still missing a lot... I have a lot of thoughts about this movie, and if you for some reason want more please ask!  I would also love to hear your thoughts on this!  Do you agree with my analysis?  Do you disagree entirely?  Did you notice something that I failed to mention entirely?  Pleasepleaseplease send ideas, I would love to hear them!  Also know that, no matter how much I was disappointed by the movie itself, I am fully open to hearing your ideas about how to improve or expand upon it.  I truly believe that this film introduced some great concepts, and I would absolutely adore seeing them reworked in a way that's more true to the original.  Thank you for reading! :D

#knight rider #knight rider 2000 #kitt #knight industries two thousand #k.i.t.t. #Michael #Michael Knight #michael knight rider #movie review #bad movie review #bad movie #knight rider 2000 movie review #knight industries four thousand #kift #k.i.f.t. #shawn #shawn mccormick #spoilers #movie spoilers #movie recap #film review #rant #movie rant #oh yeah one more thing #why is Shawn named after spices #mccormick

[fulgensun]

; about Spira - through the Fiends Tales

I said I would have done it, and here it is. While not being a very good in-game mechanic, one which can even be soft-locked in case YRP level up too fast, the Fiend Tales in FFX-2 aren’t completely silly, or useless in my opinion. They offer much to think about, mostly because they do reflect a non-idealized vision of Spira -- contrary to what Tidus’ POV may offer us, before shifting into something else, something bigger and closer to reality. The Fiend Tales are, in fact, stories of Spirans, people who died somehow and turned into monsters -- some before, some during and some other even after the events of both FFX and FFX-2.

They narrate their tales to Yuna, presumably (she has to catch them, after all), and find a way to either ascend to the Farplane or to avenge their death, if violent one. They are common folk, priests, heretics, Al-Bheds, elders, children even -- !  What I found fascinating was that their tales did offer slices of common life of all major Spiran cities, routines, dangers for certain workers and habits, even traditions... all part of a Spira we haven’t really seen in-game; for what use is a firework festival in Besaid to a future Summoner or their Guardians ready to eradicate Sin, for example hmm ?  Yet it exists, in the FFX universe. SO. I decided, for rp sake and to also make things a tad tidier, to list and explain here some of the things about these Spiran Tales that I consider cute, funny, important or worth some more thoughts. I’ll leave the specific Tales next to the info, too.  

   --  Children in Spira attend a school, the Temple School. Obviously founded by the Temple, it makes sense it provides a basic education while indoctrinating them to Yevon -- which isn’t hard to do anyway, before and during FFX; orphaned children are also taken by the Temple / Temple schools, most likely trained to either become priests or warrior monks in adulthood. Monks, specifically, are trained to what gets called ‘Yevon Academy’, which prepares them for military life; its volunteers move to this academy and don’t see their family till they graduate, but can write them letters.  [ Doggo the Coyote, Big Mama the Protochimera, Jaws II the Xiphactinus, Happy-Birb the Peregrine ]

   --  The Tale of Happy-Birb is very sad, and refers to children and temple. I feel it gives us a good example of how hard life could be, for... a rather gifted kid.        “ I always kept to myself in a tiny room in the temple, staring outside my window. I had no friends, no family to look out for me. If I were to suddenly vanish one day, would anything be different? Since I was supposedly orphaned after an attack by Sin, I was raised in the temple of Kilika. They tell me my parents were killed by Sin, but I know it’s a lie. Why would I be the only one to survive? The monks told me I had to be strong to provide hope for the future of Spira. I didn’t want to go on living in such a sad world. So I decided to take a gamble. One night, I fled the temple. [...] But when I encountered a fiend in the woods, I froze. I don’t want to die, I screamed. I truly wanted to live. ” Don’t the monks’ words sound familiar, to you? It’s speculation, but it sounds like this child exhibited the potential to become a Summoner, his family refused to let him train as one and they were disposed of -- so that the child could come into the “custody” of Yevon and ‘provide hope’. Summoner potential isn’t hereditary, mind that, but you kinda get the mentality that might have made Braska think Yuna wasn’t safe in the religious capital of Spira. The boy, here, was just ten years old.

   --  Spira has a considerable amount of criminals, for a world that should - utopically, be united by the tragedy Sin represented for everyone. Thieves considering burglary their very ‘grand career’; killers having no remorse in deceiving old people to obtain their inheritance; Al Bhed hitmen sent to kill Yevonite children in temples or wandering priests, children kidnappers, kids thieves in Luca killing one another for money, etc.  [ Bulbasaur the Purpurea, Mittens the Couerl, Brick the Bicocette, Bolt Josh ]

   --  Engagements are a quite serious thing, considering a family could not bless the union if the suitor was of a lower class (even between relatively common people), or just too poor to be deemed worthy. A refined girl from a well-to-do family in Bevelle was forbidden, for example, to love a young sailor. Engagement rings are also a thing, and the Moonflow riverbanks are lovers’ favorite dating spot.  [ Frosty the Flan Pallido, Boko the Chocobo, Venom the Gucumatz  ]

   --  So many Tales from children, it kinda gives off a very sad vibe considering they too can turn and not reach the Farplane. Many are attacked by monsters, some lost in the desert, way too many others have drowned by the Moonflow when left unsupervised. One Tale tells even of a young thief, a child, who died in jail. Being Spiran kids seems dangerous.  [ Lesser Josh, Squelch the Amorphous Gel, Scooter the Vespa, Nexus the Dark Elemental, Widow the Black Elemental ]

   --  The Tales narrate of children’s stories and legends. To make their children behave, tell them to stay put and be good, else ‘they will turn into fiends’: the more they misbehave, the uglier their monster form will look. Another old legend says spirits of people who died a violent death make their way to the Moonflow to bloom with the moonlilies. I found this last one is very similar to the old bedtime story in the FFX novel, where Old Spirans believed the souls of the dead bloomed as flowers in the Farplane. With the advent of Sin, though, and the spread of religion, this tale was forgotten.  [ Petal the Ochu, Cyanide the Assassin Bee ]

   --  The Temple of Macalania is sinking, as Shiva’s Fayth is no more and there is nothing to freeze the lake now. Many people remained trapped in their rooms inside and died during the sinking, like some wives and children of Macalania priests, for example. The few survivors performed their funeral .  [ Mayo the White Elemental ]

   --  Apparently, people living near Gagazet have a rite of passage for adulthood, which takes place as a boy reaches 20 years of age. He must climb the peak of the mountain alone in the dead of the night and bathe in the first morning lights. Needless to say, it’s quite dangerous, but the Tale is pretty funny.  [ Wuff the White Fang ]

   -- The excessive usage of machina, by the time of FFX-2, is starting to pollute the water and air. It is said fish and birds are starting to suffer because of it.  [ Daisy the Haize ]

   --  The punishment for murder, in Spira, is execution. Hissss the Kukulkan was sentenced to death, mistaken for the killer when he was a mere witness of said murder. He spent one year in the cell of Bevelle -- most likely Via Purifico ones (all monsters in Via Purifico are people who were executed nearby -- aside from Omega who was taken to the ruins), to then being sent to the gallow.

   --  Malboros have very long lifespans. Their average one is about 300 years, and a legend says the insides of a Malboro over 500 years old are linked to the divine. There’s a legend of a monk who was swallowed by a 700-years-old Malboro, survived the digestive fluids and returned to his people with his battle garb still on.  [ Vape Nation the Malboro ]

   --  In Luca, if the Goers win Blitzball matches, pubs and bars offer everyone free drinks. In Kilika, instead, barmaids also dance, which is seen as quite the spectacle. Men usually flock to those bars to drink and also bring gifts to the most beautiful dancers, even ending up in fights for their attention.  [ Jub Jub the Archaeothyris, Venom the Gucumatz ]

   --  Religious Spirans believe in reincarnation. Yuna mentions it in the Ultimania too, referring to her father, and theorizing if, one day, she’ll ever have the chance to meet his soul again, born anew somewhere in Spira. It kinda goes against the principle of souls dwelling in the Farplane, but it’s useful to remember those are mere illusions anyway. A tale says that ‘when looking into the water of an oasis after a sandstorm, you can see yourself in a past life’.  [ Venom the Gucumatz ]

   --  Footage of Zaon becoming a Fayth exist, and are stored inside long-gone and deactivated machina still found near Zanarkand Ruins, which once served to protect the couple during the Machina War. One of these footages shows Zaon embracing Yunalesca, and her promising him her love and to return safely.  [ Punt the YAU71 ]

   --  Music seems important in Spira. Yevon Maesters hire musicians, since the most popular music seems to be Yevonite one -- religious, solemn type, played with harps, horns and strings. There seems to be an annual Yevonite concert for the Maesters too. Still, Spira’s most rebellious teens have started rejecting such old-fashioned music and guitars are spreading among youth nowadays. [ Casper the Lich ]

   --  At some point in Braska’s pilgrimage, the trio arrived in Bikanel and got separated. A Cactuar and Jecht met at the oasis; the man taught the friendly fiend how to play Blitzball and signed its ball.      “ A guy with a huge sword wandered into the oasis. He had strayed from his traveling mates, and he stayed with me for three days. He taught me how to blitz! We didn’t speak the same language but I had fun. I’m clumsy, so it takes a lot of practice to get better. He used to say ‘The only thing the untalented can do is practice!’ with a big laugh. [...] I heard a rumor that said he was dead, but it’s just a rumor, right? ”  [ Needler the Cactuar ]

   --  A Besaid Festival exists, and it includes a fireworks moment. While Luca has a Eating Contest, where the competitors have to eat 200 crispy-outside, juicy inside Luca sandwiches. The local champion was poisoned before the contest started. [ Akao the Sahagin Prince, Mr Creosote the Anything Eater ]

#meta tag. #[ i left out the most stupid and absurd like.... belgemine's bootleg noah's ark ] #[ or just people who turned into fiends bc they were stupid ] #[ or worse ] #[ as well as shinra being whatever that is ]

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I will love you if I never see you again (final chapter)

It’s the end! Thank you so much for sticking with this fic, if you enjoyed it please let me know by reblogging or by leaving a comment on Ao3! It really means everything to me.

Thanks to my wonderful betas, @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short, I love you both

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, violence, references to trans pregnancy 

-----

Nureyev’s eyes had been fixed for the last twenty minutes, staring out of the window of the med bay, oblivious to the tugging sensation at the back of his head as Vespa stitched his wound closed.

Every so often, one of the stars he saw would shift or turn, suspended in the invisible molasses of space but moving by some impulse that had fled hours ago, and he would realise it wasn’t a star at all. It was an earring, a necklace, a bracelet. Some fragment of his life that had been torn away with the drone’s retreat and scattered out into an unreachable, empty coldness. Things he’d treasured at one point that were now lost to him, even though they seemed so close, just past the thick, reinforced glass. If he had the inclination to lift his hand, he could have pressed the tips of his fingers against the window and felt those impassable inches that may as well have been miles.

He would have, if he’d cared. But he barely saw the stars or the not stars, he only saw the distance between them. The miles and miles that stretched between where he was now and wherever his daughter was. And he was sitting here, doing nothing, eyes and cheeks burning with drying salt, shame pooling in the bottom of his stomach like acid.

He’d allowed himself to crack. He’d sobbed and lashed out and collapsed the way he’d told himself he would never do because it was amateurish and childish and everything he’d been taught that master thieves did not do. And because of it he’d cost them minutes that were more valuable than any amount of gold and silver and diamonds now floating in the slight gravitational orbit of the Carte Blanche.

Because it was only after his panic had run its course, burning down into something he could use rather than something that debilitated him, did he remember. Only when his throat opened up again was he able to choke out the words. And he would spend the rest of his life thinking about how things would have been different if he’d only acted quicker.

Vespa finally stood back and there was a single, high chime as she dropped the bloody needle into the metal tray beside her, “Right. Now do not move, I’m doing one set of stitches so if you open them back up, better get some glue.”

Nureyev’s eyes flashed, “If you think for one second I am staying on this ship-”

“Who do you take me for?” Vespa demanded angrily, moving back into his field of vision and wiping her hands on a sterile cloth, “Do not move between now and when we land and then you can wreck as much shit as you want.”

Nureyev was far beyond relaxing at this point but he fell silent, accepting that and turning back to the window. Still Vespa lingered, a lime green smudge on the edge of his eye, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out.

Eventually she managed, voice low and rough like a lioness trying to give comfort, “Ransom...we’ll get her back. And if they’ve hurt a hair on her head, we’ll make their deaths that much slower.”

Nureyev felt the many knives concealed under his fresh clothes pressed against his skin until the barrier just disappeared under the constant, cool weight and they were practically part of his skeleton. He pulled himself away from the window to give Vespa a tight, grateful nod.

Clearly relieved that was the end of it, she left him alone with another reminder not to move. Nureyev listened, though he’d usually disagree on sheer principle, holding himself as still as his fast rising bruises would allow. He could follow rules for the promise of free reign once they touched down on wherever they ended up. He could ignore the almost unbearable burn of adrenaline in the deep down channels of his body if he and his knives could go to work.

Instead he thought of what his meltdown might have cost them. What if, while he’d sobbed and screamed, it had been discovered and deactivated? What if the kidnappers had set it on another drone flying far out into space, just to lead them on a pointless winding chase while they took Bianca who knew where? What if it was too late in any one of a thousand different ways, all because he’d been weak when his daughter had needed him to be strong?

The soft hiss of the door sliding back registered to Nureyev only slightly, though the voice and it’s words drew his attention immediately.

“Rita got the signal,” there was a strain to Juno’s voice, like he’d ran to the med bay, like he was feeling the same burn that Nureyev was, “Clear as day, she said, and it’s heading back into occupied space following the drone’s trajectory so it’s got to be her.”

Nureyev felt no relief, just a solidifying of the need to act inside him. It didn’t erase his mistake.

He hadn’t even thought of the bracelet until almost twenty minutes had passed, ten long minutes of Juno holding him by the shoulders to keep him up right and directing him to breathe through the tight clutch of panic on his chest. What good was a tracker on your child if you didn’t realise it was there immediately?

Bianca had adored the teething bracelet when he’d presented it to her months ago, loving the rattle it made and the colours and the way she could gnaw on the soft rubber shape that hung from it. And as long as she didn’t bite down on it too hard, the tracker inside the shape would keep on silently beeping away.

It was only for while she was very, very young, he would trust her once she was old enough to take care of herself, of course. He didn’t want to be that kind of father. But Nureyev had slept through far too many nightmares to take chances in his waking hours.

“Nureyev?” Juno prompted, standing close to him now, closer than he’d dared since he’d set foot on this ship. A line had been crossed apparently, “We can find her. As soon as the drone touches down we can go get her and they’ll never expect us. We can win.”

Nureyev looked at him and felt like he’d already lost.

“Juno,” he murmured, voice level, “When we get Bianca back, I think I should leave and you should take custody of her.”

His thick eyebrow furrowed, “What? Nureyev, come on, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Juno, just listen,” Nureyev exhaled, making himself look the former detective in the eye. From this close up, he could see the injuries he’d taken as their home had been shaken in the sky, less extensive than his own but there were countless nicks and scrapes on his cheeks. Apparently he’d fallen face first into the wall, “Look at what’s happened to her when she was in my care. Whoever’s taken her, they’ve done it to hurt me and she’s suffering because of it. I was a fool to ever think I’d be able to do this with the life I lead, I have too many dogs snapping after the blood on my hands. She deserves a hero for a parent. That just isn’t me.”

Juno’s eye widened, looking beyond stunned, “How hard did you hit your head? Because you’re talking absolute nonsense.”

He was making it so much harder than it needed to be, as always. Nureyev tried to keep his face and voice as cool and level as possible, “Juno, it’s what’s best for Bianca. I’ll do this for her, I’ll bring her back and then I’ll give her a good life. Without me. With you.”

Juno was shaking his head before he’d even finished speaking, “Nureyev, look, you’ve had pretty much the textbook definition of a shit day but you need to shake this off. This isn’t going to help anything.”

Nureyev frowned, “Juno, I didn’t expect you to push me back on this. You’ve wanted to be her mother since you stepped on this ship and you’re ready for it. You’ve grown so much and you’ve got something real here on the Carte Blanche. You can make her part of it so easily and she can grow up happy and never need to think anything like this will happen again. You can be what she deserves.”

“Will you please stop?” Juno wasn’t angry, he was pleading, “Just stop. Why would you just assume there’s no place for you too? Why would you just write yourself off like that?”

“Because someone has taken my daughter, Juno! They’ve reached through her to hurt me, I’ve not been careful enough-”

“No parent is careful enough, not all the time-”

“You’re talking about a child skinning their knee when their parent isn’t looking, not being taken halfway across the galaxy-”

“Nureyev, you love her, that’s what matters. And she loves you-”

“And that’s why she needs to go!” the last burst from Nureyev with a force that surprised even him and, god help him, it came with tears, “Because look what happens to people who love me!”

Juno flinched but he didn’t take a step back, he didn’t turn away with shame or pity, even as those own feelings took root in his own mind, “Peter…”

“Mag, the only example I’ve ever had of parenting and look how that shook out!” Nureyev gave a laugh that was half a sob, “You and you only grew better after you left me behind, doesn’t that tell you everything you need? And now Bianca! I somehow convinced myself that she could be the exception, that I could let my guard down and love her and let her love me. I thought if I worked hard enough it could happen but I just let it all build up like a volcano and now it’s gone off, I could have killed her as surely as I killed Mag!”

Silence followed his words, like the universe was sucking in a horrified breath. Had he ever said it out loud before? Hadn’t he been afraid of exactly this, that once he said it, he’d realise he’d done something unforgivable?

But if the universe was going to call him a monster then Juno Steel would be his one defendant. The lady who’d seen it happen with his own eyes, the one who’d dealt with countless monsters, he didn’t withdraw and there wasn’t a hint of condemnation in his eyes. His gaze held steady, the only emotion visible there was a fierce kind of love that Nureyev simultaneously yearned towards and shrank away from.

“Nureyev, my ma said very little right in her whole life but one truth she did know was that you need other people to live for. So when you’re not tough enough, they can be, that’s what she said. So you can’t give up because you’ve got them to worry about,” Juno looked him right in the eye, “And that works both ways. You live for them and they live for you and that’s how we all get by. Bianca isn’t just your person, you are her person too. And if you take yourself away from her, it all comes crashing down. God, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be the flawless Peter Nureyev. You just have to be you. And so does she. That’s how everyone gets better.”

Every guiding instinct Nureyev had left told him to deny. To sink back behind his mask and ignore what Juno was saying, ignore the love he saw in his gaze. But he didn’t want to. He just didn’t want to.

“Yeah, I got better,” Juno continued, “But I didn’t do it without you, Peter. I was always thinking of you, even when I told myself I wasn’t. Because you were the person who really made me believe I could get better. That I didn’t have to die for a cause to be worth something. You woke me up to the people who’d been telling me that for years, you...you became my person.”

Nureyev trembled in the face of that love. The love that wasn’t conditional on whether he was perfect, whether he was collected and in control, whether there were tears on his cheeks or not. It was just being offered.

“I want to be one of the people you live for, Peter,” Juno murmured and the distance between them seemed closer all of a sudden, “And Bianca’s. But only if you’re okay with that, only if it’s as a family. And only if one of your other people is your own damn self. That was another thing my ma got wrong.”

It would be so easy to lean in, cross those few inches, though they were as significant as a few inches that would walk you off the edge of a cliff.

He wanted, he couldn’t deny that. But he had to study this want, find out if it was the want that drove him to take things that belonged to other people or the want that had made him look down at the squalling, squirming, seconds old baby in his exhausted arms and realise he couldn’t give her away as he’d planned.

“Can we speak again after...all this?” Nureyev murmured, “After we get her back safely? Can we come back to this then?”

Nureyev had known a hundred people, some of them people who’d claimed to love him, who would have grown angry. Who’s faces would have darkened and shoulders would have set and a possessiveness would have clouded their eyes.

But Juno Steel only nodded.

“Sure,” he gave a rough laugh, “Today’s more than enough to deal with. And there will be a tomorrow, Nureyev.”

He’d always known that. He’d lived for tomorrows for much of his life, moving forward to a new face, a new name, a new thing to steal to prove he could. He’d always thought tomorrow was worth showing up for.

But this felt so much more real. This felt like a promise of tomorrows that would be hard at times, where some would hurt. But these tomorrows were ones he could spend as Peter Nureyev, with people he cared about and who cared about him.

Both of them jumped at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, fast approaching. Rita drew the door back, her hair flying out of its usual twin buns, her eyes red raw from crying and staring at too many screens in too short a time, smoke practically rising from her fingertips. But she was grinning, in a manic, frantic kind of way.

“The signal stopped! The drone must have landed!”

In an instant, Juno had turned and Nureyev was on his feet, twin expressions of determination and frantic energy.

“Where?” they both barked, not even reacting to the other speaking.

Rita was bouncing in place, clearly jittery, “The signal held strong the whole way there, I didn’t even need to triangulate when it got messed up with all the other frequencies you find buzzing around an inhabited planet like giant space bees in that one stream, the one that made me scared to eat honey for six weeks even though honey roasted salmon squares are my seventh favourite snack-”

“Rita, please!”

“Mars!” Rita finally choked up, fighting through her own panicked babble, “She’s on Mars, Mistah Steel, at a place called, um…” she looked down and read her comms screen again, “The Oasis Casino Resort.”

Nureyev’s eyes met Juno’s, the same expression of sickening deja vu shared between them.

The former detective gave a wayn, humorless smile, “Looks like it’s not just your fault after all.”

The sense of deja vu, the sensation of falling and waking up in the middle of the night, continued through the family meeting, the crew sat or stood around the kitchen table and a projected schematic of the Oasis. Looking at the tiny, translucent rooms and hallways and grand game halls, floating and shifting whenever the people across from him moved, he felt nearly three years younger. Three years, two heartbreaks and a baby younger. He remembered when he’d felt invincible and so sure of himself, running into victory with a beautiful detective by his side, like something out of an old fashioned movie. He would need some of that old self to get through this, he realised.

Plot points happening all over again but the order shuffled and the roles recast. It was dizzying. And he needed to focus.

“And you’re sure this is up to date, Rita, dear?” Buddy leaned forward, eye focused like a laser on the plans in front of them all.

“Yes, Captain,” she nodded, still bouncing with anxious energy, “Remotely hacked the head of security’s computer so it’s a live feed. Even if they reshuffle all the rooms or something, we’ll know about it. And this…” she tapped something on the comms in her hand, causing a bright white dot to appear somewhere in the depths of the projection, “...is the current location of Bee Bee’s beacon.”

It was sliding slowly at a walking pace through a stairway, up and up. Nureyev’s throat tightened. Was she being dragged? Had they knocked her out with some chemical so she was lying limply in a stranger’s arms? He found himself bleakly hoping for the latter, he didn’t want her to know what was happening.

“They’re taking her upstairs. To this two bit con artist with ideas far above his station, I assume he has the penthouse suite to compensate for his lack of skills,” Buddy said smoothly, leaning forward with an intensity to her gaze that would have given weaker souls heart conditions, “Isn’t it helpful when they give us a lovely, high, phallic pedestal from which to reach up and drag them down?”

“It certainly is convenient,” Jet said cooly, somehow paying attention while calmly assembling a frankly enormous, heavy duty pistol on the counter, “I suggest we enter from the same height, scaling the fire escapes. It will limit potential interactions with innocent bystanders and employees of the resort. The only problem will be exiting once they realise how we have entered.”

“There are trash chutes,” Juno spoke up, sharing a glance with Nureyev that made both of them feel somehow a little better, for a brief second, “We could use those.”

“Are they big enough to accommodate a person?” Vespa raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Juno was somehow fighting a smile, despite it all, “Believe me, they are.”

“That would work,” Jet nodded, “Reverse what they would expect, entering through the exterior and leaving by the interior. We could store the Ruby and my hoverbike in the garage, recoloured and with false plates. Present ourselves as rich visitors, the kind that pass through such a place every day.”

“This is assuming Engstrom is hiding his activities from the Oasis,” Vespa pointed out, also preparing herself, sliding an oilcloth down the blade of her knife as she spoke, “And they haven’t been told an assault might be incoming.”

“They won’t be,” Nureyev answered, eyes still fixed on that dot, like he could somehow reach in and give Bianca comfort through it, “Engstrom’s arrangement with the Oasis is hush hush. If he could rely on them to such a degree, he wouldn’t have to pay them under the table for his security privileges. This will be a small operation, low to the ground, only with a few trusted people. Engstrom will be aware how thin the ice under his feet is, no matter how much he paid off the guards after the Utgard Express fiasco.”

“So you two really did rob the Utgard, huh?” Vespa muttered, mostly to herself, “Always thought you made that up.”

Nureyev shot her a look before continuing, “We have to move quickly, a skeleton plan is all we can manage. He may be planning to move Bianca.”

“Well it isn’t as if we haven’t played it fast and loose before,” Buddy lifted her chin, “In fact, I’d say it’s when we do the best work. Rita will work through the comms, diverting cameras and blocking the security communication line. I will be posing as our fictitious Oasis patron, the pass will give me access to wherever I might need to go to clear your escape. Jet, Juno, Vespa and Ransom will go up the fire escapes and unleash hell upon this low life who thought he could threaten our family.”

Her eye passed over them all, causing them to straighten their backs and square their shoulders with the sheer magnetism of her words and her gaze.

“Let’s bring our girl home.”

The Oasis was true to its name, standing and glittering in the middle of complete Martian wasteland, the only object for miles around. Covered in flashing lights and bold colours, it could so easily be a mirage or a hallucination brought on by radiation poisoning, so incongruous did it look with all it’s flashy finery on a backdrop of constant, unbroken mud red dunes and a flat night sky.

They’d touched down under the best cloak that Rita could manage, the Carte Blanche’s bulk hidden a few miles out, right at the edge of the dome but not out of signal range of her hacking equipment. She would stay on board, working remotely, while the rest of them travelled to the Oasis in the Ruby 7, with its new, rush job coat of glittering gold and false plates, all of its features cloaked and hidden as well as just a scant hour of Jet’s time could allow. Rita had given Vespa a kill switch to temporarily plunge the garage cameras into static so there would be no record that there were more people in the car than just the illustrious and completely fictitious Comtesse D’or who had just made a last minute reservation at great expense.

Already Nureyev was seeing holes, gaps he’d want to plug with far more research and preparation but the time just wasn’t there. As the Oasis loomed in his vision, rapidly approaching until it wasn’t clear who was rushing at who, Nureyev realised how much of this would be riding on sheer dumb luck.

It was a little easier that Buddy seemed entirely unconcerned, sending them off with a wink as she sped towards the garage entrance, letting them simply leap off the Ruby 7 and hide in the clutter of the building’s back side until the attendants were occupied with her loud and flashy arrival. Before they jumped, Nureyev saw fear flash through Juno’s one eye and he took his hand, squeezing briefly. Whether Juno would have jumped if he hadn’t done that or not, the smile he gave him after they’d hit the cooling sand and caught their breath with their backs pressed to the brick made him glad he’d done it.

Climbing the fire escape was simple enough, Vespa and her knife leading the way, her hair as vivid as the hotel they were scaling, eyes flashing like the neon lights. Jet was next, climbing smoothly and skillfully despite his size and despite the serious hardware strapped to his back. Juno next, clearly not as comfortable with being a thief just yet but a fierce determination in his eye that showed he wouldn’t be turning back. Nureyev gripped the metal, still warm from the heat of the day’s blistering sun, and what Buddy had said before they broke away from the family meeting. They all cared about Bianca, they were willing to risk everything, not least the search for the Curemother Prime, to get her back.

He certainly could see the benefit of Bianca having family.

Over many years of thieving, Nureyev had developed something like an extra sense for when things were about to go wrong, a pull in his stomach that would signal him to duck, a second’s lead on searching for hiding places, a moment to tense his muscles to run as fast as he could or throw himself into their nearest available shadow.

Apparently it was something inherent to anyone who lived outside of the law because in the same instant both Jet and Vespa stiffened, something cold and sharp seized Nureyev.

Vespa, as always, was the quickest and most ruthless. Like a bear snatching a salmon from a driver, her hand flashed into the open window just above her head and caught the guard who’d been about to look down and see the four of them by the front of the jacket. With a hard yank, the unfortunate individual went careening down, an almost comical look of surprise on their face, and landed with a muffled crash in the garbage below. Mercifully, the guard was as stunned as the rest of them and didn’t make a noise.

Juno craned his neck down and, rather adorably thinking that they’d care, whispered, “They’re okay. Knocked out.”

“Did you see their weapon?” Jet grunted, his expression unchanged, “Heavy stuff.”

“Did you see their uniform?” Nureyev arched an eyebrow, “Not Oasis. It would seem Engstrom has some hirelings. Who knows how many?”

Vespa had ignored them all, poised on the wall like a cat, face tight as she waited for any response from a partner the guard may have had. When one didn’t come, she settled one hand on the windowsill and leaned out like some kind of murderous acrobat so she could address them all.

“Hallways clear. Jet and I will go around the other side of the building, cause a distraction, draw whoever else he’s got patrolling. You two continue on to Engstrom’s room,” her tone brokered no argument, there was no time to weigh up pros and cons. Even Juno swallowed any objections, though God knew there were plenty to make.

The last majordomo of Engstrom’s had nearly killed the two of them handily, after all, and the late, unlamented Valencia was who he’d kept around when he hadn’t been deliberately pissing off a master thief. But as Vespa took her largest knife between her teeth and slunk in through the window, quickly followed by the hulking yet graceful form of Jet, laden down with blasters, it was whoever had taken Valencia’s place that Nureyev felt sorry for.

Maybe it wasn’t just Bianca who was glad to have a family.

Juno risked a glance down to him, looking oddly beautiful as he leaned out over the edge of the balcony, bathed in neon colours like Nureyev was seeing him through a stained glass window, as a strange kind of saint. As the goddess he was named for.

But had Juno ever held so much fear and determination and anxiety in her eye?

Nureyev gave him a nod, trying to look encouraging. Trying to look like all his fears that they weren’t prepared, that they didn’t know their target, that far too much was at risk, were all coming true.

But all they could do was put one foot in front of the other. Two more floors and they would see their daughter and whatever that would bring.

Nureyev felt the press of the knives against his skin again, insistent and hungry.

The Oasis was grand in every sense of the word, they were some height above the ground now, enough that a breeze that smelled of hot sand lifted their hair and snagged the corners of their clothing. As much as every muscle in his body wanted to surge forward and rush to wherever his daughter was, Nureyev forced himself to go slowly, hugging the brickwork and keeping out of the teeth of the wind. Now down to half their numbers, they couldn’t be caught now.

Finally, the topmost window and, muffled by glass, a voice. Juno and Nureyev crouched on the last platform of the fire escape, ducking under the golden glow emanating from behind the glass and listened, feeling the same burning anger as they recognised it in the same moment.

“...whether it’s some drunk gaggle of socialites or not, I want confirmation,” a gruff, scraping voice that seemed to have aged more than the time since they’d last heard it would suggest, “Don’t put anything past these charlatans, there’s no way they should know the brat is here but they’ve proven to be inconveniences before now. Go, quickly. Carter said she heard blaster fire.”

A grunt of conformation, footsteps whispering against thick expensive carpet. Juno tensed and rocked on his heels but Nureyev gripped his arm to still him, shaking his head. They couldn’t afford to move before they had a better idea of what they were running into. Not when so much was at stake.

He maintained that for a whole heartbeat until they both heard what was unmistakably a muffled sob from inside the room. A sob they both knew.

Nureyev’s other hand was on a knife handle before he was really aware he was even moving, having to snap fast to keep control of himself as something dark and angry, a shadow in red light, thrashed inside him. His fingers tensed on Juno’s arm, feeling an electricity run through him. Hold fast. Stay quiet. Wait for the right moment.

“Oh, will you be quiet?” Engstrom snapped, his voice less muffled now, as if he’d moved closer to the window. Nureyev tried to build up a mental picture of the room, a map he could work with, though it was hard when the younger, red washed self was fighting him.

There was the sound of an angry snap, like the sound of a puppy baring its teeth after being backed into a corner and a short cry of pain from Engstrom.

“You little…” his voice was tight and his shoes made thin sounds on the floor as he backed away, voice dampening. That meant she was close. Nureyev leaned forward a little more. Would he have been fool enough to keep her by the window?

He’d never believed in any being more powerful than himself up until now, not even at the tensest, most teetering brinks of his career, not even in the underground tomb with Miasma. But now he was throwing out desperate murmurs, willing anyone to hear them. Any port in a storm.

Engstrom was still talking and Nureyev took pleasure in imagining him cradling a bitten hand, “More trouble than you’re worth, you brat...no wonder your father taught you no manners, the classless parlour magician...I’d behave before I decide that the pleasure of breaking your father’s teeth and seeing him rot in jail while my name is cleared is worth less to me than the joy of you disappearing down that trash chute. God, you broke the skin, you freak, you vile little monster…”

Nureyev realised a second too late what Juno was doing, though he didn’t think an hour’s preparation would have been able to stop him. He wrenched free of his grip so easily it was as if it had never been, threw open the window and launched himself at Engstrom with a snarl of fury.

“Juno!” he yelled, pointlessly, though his voice was lost in Bianca’s scream and Engstrom’s sound of bewilderment, followed quickly by a loud crash.

Expensive whiskeys and brandys were soaking into the carpet when Nureyev leapt through the window, knife whistling from his fingers in the direction of the single guard who had been about to raise their blaster in Juno’s direction. It struck them hilt first, dead between the eyes, sinking them in an instant where the blade wouldn’t have had a hope of shearing through all the armour they wore. People who saw only one end of a knife were fools. First rule of thieving.

“Mama!” Bianca’s voice yelled from behind him, “Daddy!”

Nureyev couldn’t help it, he turned to her, feeling a relief like cold water on a burn. His treasure was tied cruelly tight to a chair just beside him, within arms reach and so much in him yearned to take her in his arms and promise her it had all been one bad dream. But the monster was yet to be defeated.

Engstrom was pinned under Juno in the wreckage of a drinks trolley, unsuccessfully defending blows to his face which now resembled a melon that had taken a hard trip down a very long flight of stairs. Panic filled Nureyev’s chest until he saw a small comms unit lying an arms length away from the old man’s grasping hand. Again, he found himself praying that he hadn’t been able to send out a call to the other guards, they needed every second they could snatch now.

Those seconds were stretching and warping as they tended to do when lives hung on gossamer strands. People seemed to move in slow motion, blows falling with a maniacally comedic exaggerated performance, light tripping and dancing on broken glass on the carpet. It seemed to take Nureyev an age to cross the room, focused on crunching that comms under his heel until it was beyond repair, before Engstrom could grasp it.

And it took him far too long to realise that wasn’t what Engstrom was intending at all.

The old man’s grasping fingers finally found the neck of a half empty bottle of some heady liquor the colour of ancient bark. Nureyev saw it at the peak of its arc, catching some fragments of blue from the sign just outside the window, moving so slowly but not slowly enough.

Bianca cried out as it connected with Juno’s head, almost as awful a sound as the crunch of glass and bone cracking in harmony. Juno rolled, head clutched in his hands, blood seeping from between his fingers, too gripped to even make a noise.

And Engstrom was sitting up.

Not a complete fool and running on sheer cruelty, he didn’t lurch for the comms or try to stand. Instead he pulled a blaster from his inside pocket, small but no less deadly for it. And he didn’t bother trying to decide which to aim at, the former detective or the thief. He simply pointed it directly at Bianca.

“Stop,” he croaked, voice even fainter than before, “Or I shoot.”

Nureyev froze, hand halfway to another knife. Juno looked up with swimming eyes, having enough of a hold on himself to stop too, swaying on his knees.

“The two of you?” Engstrom seemed to be on some kind of lurid, pain fuelled high, grinning like a haunted waxwork, even as his lips swelled and his gums ran red, “Now even this is beyond my wildest dreams. Guess the two of you stuck together after you left me for dead on that damned train, hmm? And how is that working out, seeing as one of you is missing an eye?”

Nureyev tried to keep his voice calm and still, as if the two of them were still sitting at that card table from years ago. And in some ways they were, though the stakes had ballooned far out of either of their reaches.

“What is it you want, Engstrom? A ransom? The Ruby Seven? Me? You can take me if you like, I’ll stay as long as you allow Juno to take Bianca far from here.”

Juno gave a pained noise that had nothing to do with his head. Tears dripped helplessly down Bianca’s cheeks but his girl, his brave, brave girl, stayed silent.

Nureyev tried to feel none of it and just calculated. Could he get to him before his finger squeezed the trigger? Could he throw the knife fast enough, strike his wrist or, better yet, in the neck so his shot went wide? Could he find the right words to reach this bitter, broken man and appease him?

Every calculation came to the same unthinkable end.

“And why shouldn’t I have it all, Duke Rose? After everything you two took from me, why shouldn’t I have it all back including your blood, your wife’s and your daughter’s? Is that not what I’m owed after what you did?” his voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking and his bloodshot eyes, one swollen almost shut, never looked away from Bianca, “I had thought you had more sense than this. To bring a child into our life, the life of a thief. Just more poison in the well…and look where it has ended…”

Nureyev felt bile in his throat, tearing around for more options, another way. Beg? Stall until by some miracle, Jet and Vespa could come crashing through the door? Plead? Pray? Offer him the world? Go back in time and never even set foot on the surface of Mars?

Everything around them slowed. But Juno Steel moved so, so fast.

He lurched forward and seized the barrel of the blaster between blood stained fingers. But he didn’t try and wrench it away, there was no time for that. He didn’t knock it or send it off course, what if it bounced and hit Bianca by chance?

Instead he made sure of where it would go. He turned it and pressed the barrel hard to his own skin.

The sound of the discharge was loud enough to tip the room, as if they were back on the Carte Blanche, twisted and wounded in space. Nureyev screamed, Bianca screamed, Juno screamed and neither sound could be teased out of the others.

Fortunately there was enough of Nureyev’s mind left to see what Juno needed him to do and to do it. He ran forward and brought his knife hilt down with all the strength he had left at the base of Engstrom’s skull. Fingers slackened, there was a hard, dull sound and he hit the carpet, out cold and maybe even beyond that. The blaster fell uselessly to the floor.

Nureyev cared for none of it. All that mattered was Juno, trembling in wordless agony, his shoulder smoking. He felt so light in Nureyev’s grip, light enough to come apart or simply fade away.

Nureyev felt the ghost of cold iron under his fists, felt years old bruises ache again from beating them against that door and against a future that didn’t have his detective in it.

“Just my shoulder...just hit my shoulder…” Juno managed to grit out from teeth clenched so hard they looked like to shatter, “It’s fine...it’s fine…”

The wound was a horror, a massive burn in a starburst shape but it wasn’t bleeding, just smoking and spitting. He would last, Nureyev told himself, he would last back to the Carte Blanche and Vespa would fix him, she would fix everything. But his arm hung so limp and useless, fingers not twitching and shaking like the rest of him was…

“Get Bianca,” Juno grunted, “Get Bianca, we need to go.”

Nureyev nodded, though his mind felt fractured, hairline cracks forming as he was pulled in different directions, different versions of himself pulling him apart. He stood, Juno’s good arm over his shoulders so he could take the weight of him, walking over to the chair where Bianca was tied.

“Saved me,” Bianca mumbled, looking up at the two of them with tears in her eyes, “Mamma, daddy…”

Nureyev knelt and sheared through her bindings easily, “I’m so sorry, my sweet girl, my treasure, I am so sorry…”

Bianca didn’t seem to be listening, her arms shooting up as soon as they were free, grabbing in the air. Towards both of them.

Nureyev lifted her and held her between him and Juno, taking one minute of calm in the midst of the storm they’d found themselves in. Juno’s arm tightened around his shoulder, his face buried in Bianca’s hair, leaning heavily against Nureyev. Bianca had one hand on his cheek, the other twisted tight in Nureyev’s earring. And Nureyev circled them both in his arms, like that would always be enough to keep them safe.

But it wouldn’t. Though he knew one way to ensure it.

A cold numbness descended on his mind, filing away all the adrenaline and hurt and fear with an eerie efficiency. He let Juno hold Bianca with his good arm, disentangling himself and settling the knife more easily into his palm, the hilt fitting into calluses worn onto his hands over years and years. He approached the still limp, still weakly breathing form of Brock Engstrom, everything in him trained on silencing that breathing for good.

“Nureyev,” Juno’s voice was weak and still brittle with pain, pain the pathetic excuse for a human at his feet had caused.

“Look away, dear,” he spoke words he was familiar with, though his tone was now flat and dead, “I’m going to stab Mr Engstrom to death now.”

“Nureyev, no.”

“I said look away, Juno,” Nureyev moved the knife an inch, his mind flicking idly through his decades old banks of knowledge on where to put the point to cause maximum pain.

“Nureyev, look.”

He did, turning slightly to see Juno watching him with an eye full of hurt. And their daughter, clinging to his coat, looking at him like she didn’t recognise him. Like she had no idea who he was. Like she was face to face with Engstrom again.

The knife slipped to the floor and he wouldn’t pick it back up again. The younger self bathed in the red light retreated, maybe for good this time. His shoulders slumped and he exhaled with a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Peter Nureyev made a choice that was very unlike the man he used to be, very unlike the man he’d been brought up as. But it was the kind of choice the man he wanted to be would have made.

“See, Bee Bee?” Juno murmured, voice rough but a small smile quirking the edge of his mouth as Nureyev walked back towards them, “Your daddy’s one of the good guys.”

“Good guys,” Bianca repeated softly, reaching out to him again.

Nureyev took her, letting Juno hold his injured half and lean on him, “I suppose, my treasure.”

“C’mon, let’s get going and find me a nice place to faint,” Juno rasped, again showing off his ability to find some humour while mortally wounded that Nureyev had always admired and been baffled by in equal measures, “Bottom of the garbage chute sounds good right about now. Real classy.”

Nureyev managed a tired laugh in response, shouldering the weight of his small family as they made for the door.

Another first rule of thieving was to never assume an easy escape. So many thieves tripped up on their exit from the job, too high on the loot in their hands and the thrill of the light at the end of the tunnel. Just because you had the goods didn’t mean life would pull its punches.

But it seemed, for once, that life had no more blows left to deal. Their escape was smooth as silk, as easy as pickpocketing a drunk man with a blindfold on. Jet and Vespa had taken out every guard on Engstrom’s payroll, Buddy was waiting for them in the Ruby Seven, Rita was running at them to fly into a hug before they’d even parked up in the cargo hold of the Carte Blanche.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe that rule had grown rusty with time.

Or maybe this was the advantage of being the good guys for once.

“Right. Now do not move, I’m doing one set of stitches so if you open them back up, better get some glue.”

“How the hell am I supposed to not move?” Juno grumbled, wincing as Vespa finished his stitches, “For how long? Can I breathe?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Vespa snarled back, slamming down her needle.

Nureyev chuckled to himself from the opposite bed. It was rather nice to know he wasn’t the most irritating patient on the ship.

The wound on the side of his head, nearly identical to Nureyev’s own, was easy to fix. His shoulder was less so, the skin blackened and flesh raw and red. Vespa could clean it, she could swathe it in bandages so it was less difficult to look at but there was no getting around the fact that it would be a long, painful time in healing.

Every time he looked at the clean bandages that stiffened Juno’s collar, every time he saw him wince or saw his teeth sink into his lip to bite back a groan, Nureyev was plunged back into that single second when he’d thought he’d lost him. When he’d thought he’d paid an awful price for their daughter’s life.

It was strange and bitterly unfair, Nureyev reflected, how you often didn’t realise what someone meant to you until they weren’t there. And how certain thieves could still be such stubborn fools and need to be taught that over and over.

But fools could still learn. People could still change. Juno had taught him that.

Bianca slept soundly by him, her head pillowed in his lap, her cloth cat tucked under her arm. How that thing had survived, Nureyev had no idea.

Mercifully, his treasure was no worse for wear, just tired, dehydrated and hungry from her time in the drone. Apparently she’d dealt far more damage than she’d taken; Engstrom hadn’t been the only one to feel her teeth. Nureyv felt a fierce pride at that but he would remain on guard for bad dreams as long as he needed to. He was determined to be there when she woke up.

Juno and Vespa were still bickering up until the second when the door shut behind her. And then they both realised in the same moment that they were as alone as they’d been in some time, since their half conversation in the hallway after the auction. Suddenly everything they’d said and hadn’t said was crowding in the space between the two infirmary beds.

Juno was the first to break the sudden blanket of silence, venturing a weak, lopsided smile and a little laugh. After a moment, Nureyev found himself snorting, giggles pressing up against his chest, like a child in class well aware he shouldn’t be laughing but unable to stop all the same. Juno cackled along with him and it had the sensation of a tap being let go, something leaking away and what was left behind behind able to breathe again.

“God, what’s wrong with us?” Nureyev chortled, wiping at his eyes.

“Uh, some bastard took our kid and we had to go get her back?” Juno ventured, running a hand through his hair, pushing it into even more disarray.

“Ah yes, of course,” Nureyev touched her lightly on the temple, “But we did it. We saved the day.”

“We did,” Juno leaned back against the wall, unsuccessfully hiding how it pained him, “And now...see, that’s the strange thing, isn’t it? No one ever tells you what happens to the heroes after the credits roll or after the story ends. So what do we do now?”

Nureyev looked down at Bianca, humming softly as he curled a lock of her hair around his finger, “Whatever we please, I think. Though these two heros need a place to sleep, actually, seeing as our bunk got dragged out into space.”

“You could come sleep in my room?” Juno offered quickly, before a light blush touched his cheeks, “I mean...if you were okay with that? I know it might be...weird.”

Nureyev smiled, lifting his eyes to Juno’s, “No. That would be nice, Juno, thank you. Bianca will be pleased. She...she really loves you, you know.”

Juno’s gaze softened and he seemed to feel the pain a little less, “Well...I love her too. You made a great kid, Nureyev.”

Nureyev chuckled, looking down at her, sleeping so peacefully and deeply like she was so sure that the people around her would protect her, “You know, I was so scared of her when I first met her. And I had been for nine months, really, I was just terrified. Everything became so complicated all of a sudden, my own body felt unfamiliar when I was so used to being sure of myself, it was...an unpleasant feeling. I went back to Brahma but I was halfway there before I even realised I was doing it, like something else was pulling me in that direction. I told myself I would find her a nice family with kind people who could take care of her and give her a good life. Where she’d want for nothing. But it was still so hard. And...then I met her. I held her in my own hands and I realised how silly it was to be scared of something so small.”

“I wish I could have been there,” Juno rasped, voice small but sincere.

Nureyev nodded, “Me too. But it felt like you were, in a way. I told you I kept Bianca for selfish reasons, back on Mars. And I wasn’t lying. I kept her because...well, because she looked so much like you. I wanted to keep part of you in my life, Juno, because I loved you.”

Juno swallowed, watching him closely, “And now?”

Nureyev looked up, “And now...now you’re someone new. Someone brave and beautiful and still so infuriatingly stupid...but someone I would be proud to call my daughter’s mother. And, well, I think I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”

Juno had tears in his eye as he smiled, “Fool. And I love you too.”

Nureyev grinned back, “Fool.”

Juno leaned forward, ignoring Nureyev’s groan of protest, the start of his plea for him to hold still, there would be time later. The kiss was sweet all the same, more unfamiliar than he had expected but he supposed they were both very different people, after all.

People who could make something good out of this.

Nineteen Years Later   -

They had said their goodbyes, there had been tears her little brother Persephone had pretended weren’t there, there had been countless promises to stay safe and keep well and remember everything she’d been taught.

But still, Nureyev followed her to the shuttle.

Juno had looked up as he’d gone, as he’d mumbled something about seeing her off, and for a moment it had seemed like he would catch his husband’s shoulder and seat him firmly back down. But he didn’t. Maybe something inside him recognised that they both needed this.

“Do you have your laser cutter?” Nureyev asked as the two of them walked down the hallway of the Carte Blanche, “Your rope? Your TV remote?”

“Daddy,” Bianca laughed, turning on her heel, having to look up and meet his eyes even at twenty years old, “I have it all, okay? You double checked my pack ten times.”

Nureyev blushed, folding his arms, “Well...a thief can never be too prepared.”

“I know, daddy,” Bianca nudged him with an elbow, “You taught me that.”

Nureyev sighed, feeling how close that last, final goodbye was and wanting to do anything he could to delay it. “You know, I looked over the plans for the facility you’re targeting and a two man con would-”

“Daddy,” his daughter tilted her head, making those voluminous curls so like her mama’s bounce, and her hand came out to take his, squeezing gently, “It’s gonna be okay. I can do this. And you know it isn’t going to be forever, I’ll always come back and visit.”

“Often,” Nureyev corrected, feeling his throat tighten as he grasped that hand that had once been barely bigger than his finger, “You’re going to visit often.”

“Sure,” her smile was brilliant, cocky and confident and infections, “When I’m not busy being the most badass thief in the whole universe.”

“I’m sure,” he had to laugh. Though he really did believe it.

Her mama’s old coat was a little big on her, the sleeves coming a little past her knuckles, she’d inherited Juno’s small stature. In some ways she still looked like a little girl playing dress up, like this was all a game to find her daddy’s lost pair of glasses or lead her little brothers on an adventure as Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior.

But Nureyev knew the solar system wasn’t going to know what hit it when Bianca Nureyev swung in on her beam of starlight.

He just had to let her go. Far easier said than done.

“I’ll call you when I land, Daddy. Auntie Rita secured the line, right?”

“She did,” Nureyev knew that look in her golden brown eyes, the look he’d never been able to deny, “But I think you have forgotten one thing?”

Bianca frowned, “But I went over the checklist…”

Nureyev grinned, it was uncanny how similar that frown was. He brought his other hand out from behind his back. The cloth cat, Kitty as Juno insisted on calling it, was looking more than a little worse for wear these days, it’s fur faded and three of its eyes missing but still, Bianca gasped in delight when she saw it.

“Of course!” she giggled, taking it happily and tucking it into the front pocket of the coat that used to be her mama’s, “I thought Idun might have wanted to keep him…”

“No, I think he realised it would be much better off with his big sister,” Nureyev nodded.

“Well, tell him thanks. And tell him I love him. Both of them, tell them I love them lots and lots. And mama too! And Auntie Vespa and Auntie Buddy and Auntie Rita and Uncle Jet…”

Nureyev was laughing before she was halfway through, “I’ll tell them. But what about your old dad?”

Bianca’s expression softened and she pounced, hugging him so tight his ribs hurt, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you for this.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair, “I love you too, my treasure. And thank you.”

When she pulled away, it was completely, her hand slipping out of his own. He let it, though it broke his heart.

“I’ll see you soon, Daddy,” Bianca smiled, giving him a wave before she disappeared into the shuttle that had been her eighteenth birthday present from her Uncle.

Nureyev waited a long time before he turned away from the window, looking out as he had on so many journeys with his treasure, off to exciting places and interesting people and scores that would make them legends. He had no doubt that the same thing awaited her, now she was alone.

Still he watched. He watched until her shuttle joined the rest of the stars and for a little longer after that.

He knew something amazing was waiting for her.

#the penumbra podcast #tpp #penumbra #junoverse #juniverse #juno steel #peter nureyev #jupeter #tpp juno #tpp nureyev #vespa ilkay #buddy aurinko #jet siquliak #rita

[reviee]

three prologue | 1 | 2 |

summary: Post-war. Canon-divergent. In which Team 7 governs Konoha, much to Sakura’s dismay. —SasuSaku

note: third installment of my multichap fic (im surprised, too) and finally my extremely long headcanon of how sasuke tells sakura about the massacre exists. also, read on ffn for easier viewing, linked in the title.

Sakura finds Sasuke’s chakra signature on the south side of the village before she arrives. She is soothed by the feeling, in contrast to the early days of his desertion, when she felt anxiety at every turn.

“Sasuke-kun,” she calls to him and he turns around, looking so painfully familiar to her, as if they were going to meet Team 7, in the way that they did when they were twelve.

They walk together silently, stopping at an empty plot of land. She recognizes it as the old Uchiha district, emptied after the destruction Pein had wreaked on Konoha. Sasuke quickly forms hand seals, and a stone appears, a sharingan carved into its center.

“I’ve been here before,” Sakura says to him softly, looking around. She pauses, wondering if she should divulge the reasons that she had been here. It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks, if they are to go forward.

She can feel Sasuke’s eyes on her, but they are not accusatory, only curious.

“After you left, I did some studying, on you, Itachi, the Uchiha clan…” to find you, is what she leaves unsaid.

She looks around the field, remembering the old and abandoned buildings that had been here before.

“Most things about the clan were classified, of course, but sometimes I helped Tsunade-sama after hours at the Hokage Tower. Under the properties owned by the Uchiha clan, this was one of them.”

Sakura remembers, as a thirteen-year-old girl, running around frantically attempting to find information on one missing teammate, while her other teammate had also left her behind. For two and a half years she was alone, spending the majority of her time with Tsunade, and only rarely seeing Kakashi.

Kakashi had been embarrassed, she knows now, because he had been naive in his reassurance that everything would be alright. Still, she thinks, she would have liked it if he had at least practiced taijutsu with her. He was, after all, still her mentor.

But, she supposes, she had been Kakashi’s student only insofar as he was Team 7’s leader. To him, Sasuke was his pupil, the one he had passed raikiri down to, and that student had now been using it on his friends.

“There was nothing here, except empty houses,” she looks at the sharingan on the ground, illuminated by dim moonlight, “nothing I could see, anyway.”

“It’s a special seal,” he tells her, “for sharingan users. This is the nakano shrine, where the Uchiha clan held their meetings.”

She nods and they walk descend into the structure. She spots at the far end of the room they enter, a pedestal with a blank stone tablet on it.

“What is it?”

“It is the monument that contains all of the clan’s secrets,” Sasuke replies, “You need the sharingan to read it, and some parts can only be read by those with the mangekyo.”

She nods, unsurprised by the clan’s level of secrecy. Growing up, the disappearance of the Uchiha clan should have been a huge scandal, but she had only heard whispers of a deserter and the word massacre. She knows now that the Hokage must have covered it up and looking at the scrolls had only confirmed that there had been little information disseminated about it.

Even now, she thinks, looking at Sasuke, nobody in the village knew much about the whole clan that had disappeared.

She wonders if it is alright for her to know about this.

“So,” he breaks the silence once again, “you read the scroll I left you.”

She nods. She had a suspicion that it was Sasuke who had left the scroll for her last night, unsealed, but it is good that he is confirming it. She had wondered if this was going to be an open secret between them, or if perhaps he had a point in doing so.

He had known about the truth behind the massacre, she realizes, and Naruto must have, too. Why didn’t anyone tell me, she wants to know, but remembers being left behind, and tells herself she should have expected it.

But, still, she thinks about Sasuke telling her, in his own way, and wonders why.

“I did,” she confirms, “I had no idea.”

He is silent for a moment. “Me neither,” he tells her honestly, “Itachi shouldered the burden all by himself,” he pauses, looking at her.

“That’s what being on the Konoha Council means to me.”

Sakura understands. Last night, she had thought, so this is the truth that Sasuke-kun lives with. She realizes that divulging this information might have been only a part of their roles as council members, but she nevertheless feels connected to him in a way that she hadn’t before.

“Then,” she walks up to the pedestal, standing next to Sasuke, “we should honour his memory.”

“Aa,” he agrees, and picks up the tablet, “I want to fill this with information about my mangekyo, and possibly the rinnegan, as well. There’s only been very few who have awakened the former, and only me who has the latter. For the sake of the clan, I think it’d be prudent to.

“Will you help me, Sakura?”

“Of course, Sasuke-kun,” she replies without hesitation, and he nods.

It is rare for Sasuke to ask her, of all people, for help. He is often reluctant to accept her efforts, even for the smallest injuries, and she understands that sometimes it is because he does not want to trouble her. Don’t bother, he’ll say, as if to tell her, don’t bother with me. But she had never been good at leaving him alone.

“Let’s go, then,” he puts the tablet back down on the pedestal and blows out the torch. “Didn’t you say you were going to cook dinner?”

She grins, thinking about the fresh tomatoes that she had bought that morning, and follows him out.

.

 .

 They eat dinner in silence, but she does not mind because he looks satisfied. She wonders how long it has been since someone has cooked for him and feels happy to be able to do so.

He washes the dishes without being asked to and she dries them. They are synchronized, in a way that Sakura hasn’t felt since their genin days, and she is lulled into a sense that this could be their future.

Sasuke sits on the floor of her living room, his legs crossed primly and his back straight. She kneels in front of him, and watches as he closes his eyes, before she sucks in a breath and places her hands on his face.

“I’m in your care,” he murmurs, and her heart flutters.

Sakura is astonished at the complexity of Sasuke’s sharingan. She had, before the war, briefly examined Kakashi’s eye, which was wholly imbued with what she knew now as Obito’s presence in addition to his own, as two chakras working together. The way it had been implanted had also been rudimentary, but effective, confirmed by the decade of rigorous use Kakashi had gotten out of it. She had been amazed by Rin Nohara’s ability to so rapidly unravel the way that the eye worked, and hopes that she can do the same, for Sasuke’s sake.

She had also seen firsthand how much chakra the sharingan depleted—Kakashi’s inability to deactivate it slowly and continuously burned chakra, even when it had been covered by the headband.

Unlike Kakashi’s eye, Sasuke’s eye is imbued with many chakras: she feels the foreign presence of the chakra that fuels the rinnegan, and the dominance and tightly controlled presence of Sasuke’s own chakra, but most of all, she feels the languid presence of Itachi’s chakra, peaceful and yet overpowering.

She feels the immensity of Sasuke’s sharingan, especially in conjunction with the rinnegan, and understands better how strong he is. It frightens her a little.

They sit like this for a better part of two hours, taking only short breaks so that she could write notes. Sasuke does not say a word, but she is reassured by the sounds of his even breathing. Sometimes she indulges in the sight of the soft lines of his lips, slightly parted, and wonders what it would be like to kiss him. Somehow, despite everything, she feels twelve again.

“Sakura,” he says, catching her wrist in his hand, “let’s stop for tonight. You’re getting tired.”

She blinks and realizes that she has used an immense amount of chakra by intricately tracing his pathways. She lets her arms fall to her lap. Sasuke’s hand lingers for a moment, before he returns it to his side.

She sighs and sits next to him, her back leaning against the couch. She glances at him, blushes, and decides to lean her head against his shoulder. It’s the least he could do, she decides, although she feels slightly apprehensive.

“There’s something else I want to show you,” he tells her quietly, apparently fine with this act of intimacy, and adds, “if you’re not too tired.”

Without lifting her head, she replies, “I’m fine.”

He is silent, and then she feels his fingers on her forehead, just as she had felt them on the day he left for his journey. She remembers the warmth from then, and feels it even stronger now, and realizes that he is transferring chakra to her.

“Sasuke-ku—”

“Just wait,” he tells her, keeping his fingers on her forehead. She closes her eyes.

Suddenly her mind is filled with images—they are hazy, as if she was in a dream, and she realizes it is the Konoha from more than a decade ago. This is the sharingan’s genjutsu, she thinks, and it is so real that she feels the heat of the sun on her cheeks.

She sees a young Sasuke, at four years old, sitting next to Itachi. No, she thinks, these are Sasuke-kun’s memories, and watches as the young Itachi pulls his brother over his lap.

“Big brother will always protect you, Sasuke,” she hears him say, and tries not to cry when she sees the unabashed admiration in the little Sasuke’s face and the tragedy that awaits him.

The scene switches, and she sees a slightly older Sasuke running towards Itachi, who is dressed in full ANBU attire. There is another Uchiha member with disheveled hair leaning against the residence’s front door, presumably waiting for Itachi, and smiling at Sasuke.

This is what his family was like, she muses, before he had lost everything.

“Maybe next time, Sasuke,” she recognizes the words coming out of Itachi’s mouth, before the young Sasuke is tapped on the forehead in the same way she had been.

Her heart clenches.

“Sorry, Sasuke,” the other Uchiha says, “let me borrow your brother for a bit.”

Sakura is filled with a carefree feeling when she sees the young Sasuke’s expression, pouting like the child that he had been. Even Sasuke-kun can make faces like these, she thinks, and briefly remembers similar expressions he had made in their genin days.

He spares her the images of the massacre, she realizes, because they are suddenly on top of a building, surrounded by a vast forest, and she can see Sasuke, around the age he was three years ago, in a black attire. She sees Itachi, bloody, stalking towards him.

“Sorry, Sasuke,” she hears him say with his last breath, “but there won’t be a next time.”

She feels the sensation of Itachi’s fingers on her forehead, the force of the knowledge that he had left with Sasuke swirling in her head.

The scene switches again, and they are now in a cave, and Sasuke is dressed in the same attire he had been wearing during the war. There is a bright light coming from across the room, and she is surprised to see that it is Itachi, with edo tensei eyes.

He is dissipating, she notes, and her mood plummets, now overshadowed by a deep sadness that she has never felt until now.

“…you don’t ever have to forgive me. And no matter what you do from here on out, know this… I will love you always.”

She can feel the weight of Itachi’s forehead against hers, and the complete helplessness that is coursing through Sasuke. She feels as if she cannot breathe, the pain in her chest wound so tightly that she gasps achingly. She realizes that she is suffering for real, that this pain mirrors the one that Sasuke had felt even more profoundly, and that there are hot tears rolling down her face.

Sasuke quickly releases her from the genjutsu. She lets out a small cry as he wraps a strong arm around her shoulders.

He is silent as she cries, his fingers gripping her shoulder reassuringly. Her mind is blank, she cannot even begin to comprehend what has just happened, but she knows that she has never felt anything like it.

Sasuke had shared his memories and feelings of his brother with her, in a way that only members of the Uchiha clan could.

“The Uchiha clan valued love and friendship above all else,” Sasuke tells her, his voice steady and calm, “and feels everything too deeply. When that feeling consumes them, the sharingan awakens. That is the Uchiha clan’s curse of hatred.”

Sakura has nothing to say. The words echo in her head, and she cannot stop trembling. She leans into Sasuke in an attempt to calm herself, and feels him tighten his arm around her, the warmth of his breath on the top of her head.

She falls asleep in his embrace.

#sasusaku #ssfanfiction #three

[ohwhatamessiam]

Self Control - Chapter 11

Summary: Thanksgiving break comes and goes. And it leaves you angry, wondering how much Chris really cares about you. Will he prove that he wants this, or will he let your spark burn out?

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Language, angst, lots of pain (the tweets from Brandon outlined this turn of events), I’m really sorry but y’all are gonna hate me for this one.

A/N: Hi everyone! I made it back for an update under 9 months this time (barely lol). There’s only 2 more chapters left in Self Control, and you guys will probably hate me for them, but this is the path we’re on together! Thank you all for your patience, and thank you to @fangirlisms-22. I have started on the next chapter but knowing me, it’ll be a while before it’s done. I’m going to ask y’all to be patient again. I tried to tag everyone, but some blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or won’t let me tag them. Let me know if you need me to change your url on my list. Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts, feelings, wishes, etc!

Tags are still barely open for this story, so send me an ask here to be added to it or my permanent list!

Self Control | Masterlist

A week of radio silence goes by and you’re left alone with your thoughts. And lonely, desperate thoughts are not your friends. 

You try to stay in for the weekend, telling yourself that the distance is for the best. It’s giving you time to work on your story. You tear that piece to shreds and stitch it back together 10 times over. Your heart is starting to feel that same way.

Wednesday afternoon you realize you’ve run completely out of your grad student food staples: mac and cheese, tortillas, shredded cheese, peanut butter, and milk. And there’s only one box of cereal left on top of your fridge. Corn flakes. The bland cereal Chris loved so much. 

You can’t bring yourself to touch it. 

Forcing your body into a pair of sweatpants and shoes, you leave the apartment. The sun feels too bright for your sensitized eyes, and the temperature is much colder than you planned for, but you know better than to turn back. If you go back, you won’t come out until you have to see him after break.

As you pull into the grocery store it finally hits you. It’s already Thanksgiving eve. That much time had slipped away from you.

You trudge through the throngs of people scrambling for last minute items. No one pays any attention to your state of disarray.

Luckily, your basic needs are in stock and you’re able to get what you need without too much difficulty. You’re about to head to the registers when you stop at the liquor aisle. The thought only has to enter your mind before your feet immediately pivot toward the wine section.

You find 3 of the cheapest, most tolerable bottles and are stuffing them in your cart when you hear glass clanking behind you. You turn to find two of the last people you wanted to see.

Sebastian and Dr. Mackie.

“Oh shit,” Sebastian yelps as he tries to balance three separate bottles of liquor in one arm. Dr. Mackie snickers at him as he adds another bottle to their collection. 

You shift quickly, trying to keep your back to them. There’s no need for a conversation on a day like today.

“(Y/N),” Sebastian calls out. 

Your whole body tenses, fingers clenching the cart handle. How did he even know it was you in your chaotic state?

Footsteps approach you and you try to muster the strength to face them. At your best, you gather a forced smile.

“Hi (Y/N),” he grins as he slides up to your cart, Dr. Mackie in tow. 

“Hi guys,” you manage. You catch how Dr. Mackie’s eyes flash to your hair, and then your clothes. You try not to get caught up on how that makes you want to crawl home, with or without groceries. 

“What are you doing in town? It’s Thanksgiving,” Sebastian asks as he tries to pay more attention to his assortment of alcohol instead of your appearance.

“I’m staying here for break. My family’s a little spread out, so it’s hard to pick a side.” You glance over at Dr. Mackie, hoping that answer seems somewhat believable. 

He seems to buy it as he nods, “I get that.”

You’d never seen these men outside of an academic environment, and when you finally notice their current clothing, you feel the tiniest bit better about running into them. Dr. Mackie’s wearing a navy polo and a pair of gray chinos, while Sebastian’s in a pair of black jeans and a red henley.  

Something about seeing even your colleagues out of business casual, made you feel a little special. Like you were welcomed into Chris’s friend group with open arms. Like the relationship you and Chris have could exist both inside and outside of school safely.

Or had.

“If you’re staying in town, why didn’t you answer our email?” Sebastian asks.

“What email?” Your mind is already trying to remember the last time you glanced at your school account. It must have been nearly a week. But why would you check it when clearly staring at your text messages and voicemails from Chris had been filling your weaker moments?

“The one where we reached out to every grad student and faculty member whom had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and invited them to a potluck in the Webster hall student lounge?”

Your eyes shift between the men nervously, “Oh, uh, I must have missed that one.”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Mackie answers.

“Well look,” Sebastian continues, “we’re going to have a lot of food, and just need people to eat it now.”

“You could absolutely just bring a bottle of wine and load up a plate.” Dr. Mackie adds as he notices the bottles in your cart. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize you already have plans to finish those bottles by yourself, and maybe even before Thanksgiving.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” More like you really hope you never have to leave your apartment again.

“Ah, you already have plans.”

You don’t, but you nod like you do in hopes they’ll back off. 

“Well I’m sure we’ll have leftovers,” Sebastian’s eyes become too sharp as the words leave his mouth, “so if you wanna stop by after you’re done doing whatever you have to do, you’re welcome to.” His tone of voice leaves you surprised he didn’t just outright wink at you.

But apparently he didn’t know yet. Chris hadn’t told him about your “distance.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I’ll try.”

“Good,” Dr. Mackie nods, his eyes cutting to Sebastian, clearly trying to get his friend to leave you alone. You know the only time you’ve spent with him was at the faculty dinner, but inside you quietly thank him.

“Yeah, great. And you can bring anyone if you want. Thanksgiving is about sharing.” Sebastian’s eyes stay on yours, still unsubtly trying to communicate that Chris is welcome. Under his gaze, you feel a bubble of tension build in your chest, the precursor to more tears. 

“I won’t bring anyone, but thank you for offering.” You need to get out of here. You will not cry in front of Chris’s friends and colleagues. You drop your focus back onto your grocery cart, trying to stave off the warmth behind your eyes.

“You are very welcome. Seb, we should probably get going now,” Dr. Mackie swoops in for the save. “Whether we see you or not, have a good Thanksgiving (Y/N).” And he’s already guiding Sebastian away from you.

“Thanks, you too,” you call out. They don’t answer, and fortunately they round the corner before the first tear drops.

_______________________________________________________________________

You finish your last bottle of wine late on Thanksgiving. You pick up your phone and nearly dial his number, but just as you reach his name in your contact list, you picture it in your mind.

Him, sitting at a large table covered in all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes. On his right is Jennifer, and she’s beaming. This is her in her element. She’s getting what she wants because Chris won’t tell his family yet that they’re getting divorced. But your mind focuses on the space between them, their joined hands sitting on the table.

You can’t help but throw your phone across the room.

You don’t need confirmation that you’re right, that your fear isn’t imaginary. But you also don’t need to sit around calling him, embarrassing yourself with desperate voice messages that ultimately won’t help your relationship.

You know there has to be something else to fill this void.

And then pull out your laptop and start writing. And it’s a very different story than the one you’ve been working on.

_______________________________________________________________________

The rest of break comes and goes, and somehow you manage to honor the “distance.” Maybe it’s that your sadness has started becoming little pockets of anger, or maybe it’s that you’ve already cried and moped enough. 

But the first day back to classes, you go in with your head held high.

You made it this long without caving and calling, or going to see him. It’ll hurt, but you’ll make it through a class together. You end up being one of the first people in a seat, the students seem to have gotten slower since Thanksgiving break. Lethargic and ready for winter break already.

Winter break was supposed to be when you and Chris could end your distance, your weird work power dynamics would be over and neither of you could lose their job. But what used to feel like a hopeful promise felt like a drawn out execution now. If Thanksgiving had gone even vaguely how you imagined it had for him, you were sure the end was coming. 

Part of what made you love Chris was his heart, his empathy, his willingness to try to see the best in people. And while those traits hadn’t been applied to Jennifer in a while, you were nearly positive they could be again.

Tom comes in at his usual time, but sits at the end of the row behind you. You find that odd, but barely have a moment to dwell on it before Chris arrives. And his face is clean shaven.

A piece of your heart sinks, and you slip further into your chair. 

He avoids eye contact with you until after he has the presentation pulled up on the projector and the rest of the class has filed in. He takes a deep breath, his hands gripping the sides of the podium, and he looks out at the room. But his eyes seem to gloss over the break-hungover students and fall on you.

You feel yourself gulp, but you don’t look away. Not yet. His clothes are nicer, less rumpled than before break. His hair is shorter and slicked back, like it had been at the beginning of the semester. And his wedding ring seems to just catch the fluorescent lights perfectly. 

Everything but his gaze feels foreign. Almost too different than your Chris.

And that’s when you drop your gaze back to your laptop. Of course he’d been home long enough to do laundry and look like his old self again. Maybe it was for his family over break, but maybe it was for Jennifer. 

He watches you for one more moment, and then focuses back on the students. “Good afternoon, class. I hope everyone had a good break.”

Hearing his voice hurts worse than seeing him, but you straighten your spine and get through class. He does not hang his attention on you again, and the only one who seems to notice besides you, is Tom.

_______________________________________________________________________

Your office hours feel like slow torture since you’re left alone with your thoughts about Chris again. And how he looked. And how he barely looked at you.

You wish for a distraction. A student, Robert to come in, or even Tom to show up even though he’d been icy towards you recently. But you get nothing.

So instead, you work on the new piece you started over break. That piece about cycles, and circumstances. About love given, and love lost. About power dynamics and the risks you take when you ignore them. 

Office hours nearly end before you look up. 

And Chris is standing on the other side of your open door, not knocking, but not walking away. You’re not sure what to make of that. 

Is he stopping himself from rushing up to you? Or is he forcing himself to stay there until you say something, until you force him to admit what’s really happening here?

He finally meets your eyes and your heart drops. Just like it had during that awful phone call. And you knew what that meant then, and what that says now.

But you try to fight it. You tell yourself it is just paranoia.

“Hi,” you say, your voice coming out short, trying to hide its shakiness.

“Hi.” Just one word from his lips and your very marrow wants to crawl to him, pleading to forget Thanksgiving break. Forget whatever transpired then. Remember what you had before. What you could have next.

But you stay in your seat and watch him step into your office gingerly. His eyes take in the room, either looking for new evidence in support of your relationship, or looking for a distraction so he doesn’t have to say it. Or at least that’s what it looks like. 

His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. And it makes this feel even sadder.  He’s resigned to this. Whatever’s coming, he doesn’t really want it. Not fully. 

You can’t take it anymore, you have to end this pointless staring. His at your office, yours waiting for him.

“So, what do you need?”

His face changes, the slightest furrow of his brows, the gentlest sigh. As if you wounded him, rushing him through this moment. A moment you were starting to want over.

He closes your office door, leaving you two alone in a room with so many memories. A room that just a couple weeks ago held what you hoped was the promise of a future.

“We need to talk,” he says, sitting on the edge of the seat across from you. You nod, but don’t say anything. Not until you know what kind of talk this is.

He stares at you for a moment, watching your face, waiting for it to change, shift into something else. But you keep your emotions away from the surface. You’ve had enough time to think about this during your distance.

He finally continues, “This Thanksgiving was tense. A lot happened. A lot was said. But the time apart helped me figure somethings out.”

“Like what?” You watch as his fingers twitch, his eyes roaming you for clues on what you want to hear.

“Like, I’m not the only one who’s been seeing someone else. She wouldn’t tell me who, but I can’t help but feel like it was her way of throwing us in my face.” He pauses, but you don’t break, don’t reach for his hand or tell him he’s right. You wait for the rest.

“And I learned that our families aren’t ready for a divorce yet.” His eyes focus on the edge of your desk. He still won’t stand up to them yet. 

He knows this isn’t fair to you. And he won’t even look you in the eye as he admits it.

“So, where does that leave me?” A fire fuels in your belly, you want to scream at him. You can’t keep living in this state of distance. That he needs to figure out whether he wants you more than he wants to avoid conflict with her and his family.

“As someone I want a future with.” He’s watching your chest now, the way your breath fills your lungs, and you hold it in, praying that he’ll just drop the other shoe. “As someone I could see myself growing old with, living a full, creative life together.”

“But?” 

He hesitates and you try to keep the air moving in and out of your body. You do not have any new breath-held wishes, everything you could ever hope for from this moment has already found a home in your mind. And it is accompanied by all your fears about this relationship, and its end. 

But the way his shoulders slump, and his elbows dig into his knees as he leans on them. The way his head now hangs in his hands. You feel that your fears are unfortunately, closer to this reality.

“But not someone I can have a now with.” 

Your heart felt it coming, and it hurts worse than you ever would have expected.

That fire is in your chest now, beating your lungs, eating the oxygen from them. Like a hit to the gut. There’s no more breath to hold. 

Was this relationship always going to be a waiting game? Or just a dalliance to fill the time?

“This time apart, this distance has already been painful enough, Chris. But I was doing it to protect both of us.”

He raises his head, and his watery eyes catch on your own, “It’s been terrible not seeing you, not talking to you. It’s been painful for me too. But it’s been for the best.”

“Best as in it protects us for our future? Or best as in it allows you to give your marriage another shot?” Will he stop trying to dance his way around this, stop softening this? You need a clear answer on where you stand, and where you are going to be moving forward.

“I- I’m afraid to say both.”

And that hits you with an overwhelming force. Your heart has sunk so far, you are not even sure you have one anymore. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But instead, you let that fire from before crawl its way into your mouth. “So do you want me to wait around for you? Let you test the waters with Jennifer again until you're sure you want to be with me? Because that’s not what I signed up for with us.”

“I know that, and that’s not what I wanted for us either.” 

“And if I wait any longer, I’m not protecting us anymore. I’m protecting you, and your life, while mine gets boxed away. But what I want should matter too.”

“Y/N, it does,” he whispers, but it doesn’t slow you down.

“Should we still even try to be together? If you’re not sure that this is it, that I am who you should be with, what’s the point? What are we holding out for?”

All the air from the room feels like it has been sucked out. Chris is staring at you like you’ve wrecked his whole world. And inside, it absolutely feels like you’ve just ripped apart your own. But you know it had to be said. 

“Because I love you. And you love me.”

“Is that enough Chris? Because it’s starting to seem like it isn’t anymore.”

He looks at you, eyes wide as his lower lip trembles softly, but you remind yourself to hold your ground. He was the one who’d come in there to tell you he might go back to his wife. He was the one who had already planned on doing this.

“It was, it is. We just need to wait it out. See if Jennifer and Robert will leave us alone.”

“They already know, and so does probably half of the department.” You hope your words aren’t actually true, but between all the conversations you had before break, it sure as hell feels like it. “I’m not staying your secret affair. I’m not your office hours hook up because you can’t tolerate your wife. You either tell me right now that you will fully work on what we have, or you tell me it’s over.”

His eyes are searching your office again, looking for courage, or maybe an excuse. He doesn’t seem to find it, and his focus settles on your joined hands. You clench them together, a silent prayer for the truth. 

“I can’t do either of those things.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You just want a straight goddamn answer. “Chris…”

“I can’t. Because I don’t want to lose you, it hurts so much to be apart from you. But I can’t gamble with the rest of my life, my job, my family. I can’t just ignore them and run away again. It’s not working out for any of us that way.”

You want to snap that it was working out fine for you, but you try not to be more selfish than you already feel. And as well as you were making out, he is right, these last few months hadn’t been perfect. Except you don’t want perfect, you just want a promise to try. A whole-hearted attempt. 

Instead, you stay quiet for a moment, watching him, taking him in. His clearly upset features, his body perched on the edge of his seat. His words are telling you that the one fear you had grown so very close to this entire break, is real. His already established, semi-comfortable life is more important than you, or your happiness. And you had really wanted to be wrong.

“That is my answer.” Your mouth finally moves, saying what you were thinking all along. “Your inability to make a decision is everything I need to know.”

“I didn’t want this to happen (Y/N). I don’t want this to be over.” His hands reach out for yours, searching for a physical connection, a spark. Something that will help him soften this, or make you change your mind.

But it won’t. And you pull your fingers from your desk.

“Then you should have thought about that earlier, Chris. You should have considered whether kissing me in this hallway could ruin your life. That sleeping with me in your office could demolish everything. You should have decided then, if this last 3 months was worth it, to risk it all? Because I decided that then. I decided I wanted you, and this, but I knew I might regret it one day. And you’ve probably proven me right.”

Chris’s eyes latch onto your own, shock lifting his brows so gently. Like you’ve landed the final blow, you knocked him out. But this wasn’t a match for you to win. No, this was a mercy kill. You know now this relationship had to end before it sacrificed what was left of your control, and your sanity.

“I always wanted this. There’s not a single second I’ve regretted it.” His tone comes out rough, as if the anger you’ve let out finally reaches his own gut. And you hope it burns as much for him as it does for you.

“Good for you. But if you really wanted this, why didn’t you tell me about Jennifer’s sudden interest in getting back together earlier? Why didn’t you tell your family that you guys are over? That there’s no hope for your marriage, and that you’re ready to move on? Would you rather have a second chance with her instead of a first, real chance with me?”

You look down at your own hands in your lap, your fingers twisted together. And for a moment you second guess this whole conversation. Is this really how this has to go? “Or at least that’s what I asked myself over and over again during break.”

He stays quiet, his eyes shifting down, settling on his knees. They bounce as his heels tap the floor. His nerves are so raw, that he might just be finally admitting to himself, that this has reached its conclusion. That maybe this was never going to end any differently.

The words leave his mouth so quietly, you almost miss them. “So this is the end then?” 

As much as this already feels like slicing a part of yourself off, you were staying strong. But his tone, its soft resignation, it builds a heat behind your eyes. And your tears threaten to let loose.

“I’ll finish the semester as your TA, but yes. I-” the crack in your voice gives away more than you’ve shown this entire conversation. And his baby blues latch on to it, to you. A final, silent pleading. But you gulp, “I think it is.” 

Inside you are begging for him to say no, it’s not. That he won’t let this be the end. That you are more important than Jennifer, than his family, than anyone’s opinion.

He nods to himself, his eyes squeezing shut. He takes a moment to make himself accept it, and then he pushes himself up.

“I’m sorry this is how we’re ending, (Y/N). I never meant to compromise your feelings or your wants. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I understand how my intentions have gotten lost in our situation.” He moves to your door, turning his back to you. 

You feel your bottom lip quiver as the tears in your eyes start to bleed out.

“I’m sorry too, Chris.” He hesitates, looking back at you as his hand reaches the door knob. “Goodbye.”

One more quick nod as his gaze drops, attempting to ignore your quiet sob. His fingers push open the door and he whispers, “Goodbye.”

And then he’s gone, and your office hours are over, and you want to be anywhere but here. But as you try to stand, you can’t move yet. This loss feels paralyzing. Your limbs lock in denial, your mind wants to bargain now. But you know it’s too late.

So you sit there, and cry every tear out you can, waiting for the pain to subside. Waiting for your breath to stop shaking. Waiting for you to feel confident in your choices.

And eventually, it does. And you do.

_______________________________________________________________________

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Through the Storm:  Part 2

DISCLAIMER:      All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters  unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson returned to New York a broken version of herself after a failed whirlwind romance.  Years later, she has put the past behind her and rebuilt herself into a successful event planner who is happily enjoying her fast-paced New York lifestyle.  However, just because she’s put the past behind her, doesn’t mean it won’t come back to haunt her.  When an unexpected letter turns up on her doorstep, she’s forced to face the people and feelings she ran away from all those years ago.

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                                 PART 2 - OPENING PANDORA’S BOX

My hands began to tremble as I held the thick envelope in my hands.  What the heck could it possibly be?  I gently ran my hand over the beautiful, red crest that adorned the back of the envelope.  It was refined.  It instantly reminded me of my time in Cordonia.  It reminded me of the fancy etiquette lessons with Bertrand . . . the grand balls where everyone performed waltzes and rehearsed dances . . . the gorgeous, flowing gowns that used to cling tightly to my body . . . the way he held on tightly to me as we glided across the dance floor.  It made me remember him.  

I shook my head, trying to rid the thoughts from my head.  That was a lifetime ago.  I’m not the same person that I was back then.  I’ve moved on from that life and everything in it . . . including the Beaumont Brothers.  What could they possibly want from me after all this time?  I hadn’t heard anything from anyone back in Cordonia in nearly two years.  

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  I hadn’t heard from the others – Bertrand, Hana, Drake, him . . . they had all respected my wishes to be left alone.  Maxwell, on the other hand, hadn’t taken my departure well at all.  In true form, he had relentlessly tried to contact me.  Emails, telephone calls, he even tried to add me on a few of my social media accounts.  In hindsight, I had been truly awful to him.  He was nothing but kind and loyal to me during my time in Cordonia, and all he wanted to do was stay in touch . . . but I just couldn’t.  It hurt far too much.  Thinking of Maxwell meant thinking about him, and that just couldn’t happen.  

Whenever he attempted to contact me, I would change my phone number . . . if he happened to get a hold of my email address, I would change my email address shortly thereafter . . . it got to the point that I had to deactivate all of my social media accounts just to get away from his incessant pestering to come back.  Come home, as he had put it.  But Cordonia was never my home.  Not really. Many at court had made that utterly clear.  I didn’t belong.  I wasn’t one of them, and I never would be.  I was a mere commoner from New York . . . I wasn’t even European bred.  All I would ever be was some low-class waitress with no future.  That’s all they could see when they looked at me.  It was bad enough trying to survive a broken heart, but to also deal with the constant whispers and comments behind my back?  I just couldn’t do it.

By the end of the engagement tour, I was broken.  Madeline had won.  I didn’t have any fight left in me.  I regretted the day he walked into my bar and made me fall in love with him.  I wished that I never stepped foot in that blasted country because all it ended up bringing me was pain and heartache.  A few months after I left, the attempts at contact went silent . . . or maybe I had finally hidden myself enough that no one knew where I was anymore.  Or perhaps, Maxwell finally caught the hint that I was never going back to Cordonia.  That I had moved on . . . and maybe Maxwell realized he should have moved on, too.  But this envelope . . . this damn envelope said something different.  Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten about me.  But maybe I didn’t want to be remembered.

“Get rid of it,” I said curtly, before tossing the envelope on the coffee table.  “Toss it in the trash, fly it out the window.  I don’t care what you do with it.  Just get it out of here.  I don’t want to open it.”

“What?” Andy exclaimed.  “Why?” She said, following me back into my bedroom.

“I don’t want to talk about it Andy.  Not now.  Not ever,” I said firmly.

God, one damn envelope and I feel like my whole world is collapsing.  Who did they think they were, huh?  I was doing fine.  I was happy.  I had gone nearly three months without so much as a second thought about any of them . . . then they just contact me out of the blue like this?  I paused, I was spiraling.  This happened a lot when I first moved back.  I tried to calm my breathing.  I could feel myself hyperventilating.  

“You’re freaking me out!” Andy exclaimed.  “You’re being ridiculous right now,” she scolded.  “What has you tripping out so badly?  It’s just an envelope for God’s sake, Riley.”

“Nothing in that envelope will be of any good to me, Andy.  I mean it.  Get rid of it,” I pleaded with her.

“No way,” she shook her head.  “If you won’t open it; I will,” she said, her hands grabbing at the envelope, her fingers starting to pull at the envelope’s seal.

“Stop,” I yelled.

“What has gotten into you?” She said.  I could feel the judgment in her eyes.  Why couldn’t she just leave this alone?  Couldn’t she see that this envelope was like Pandora’s box and once I opened it, there would be no going back.  I couldn’t just seal it up again and pretend that it didn’t exist.  

“Andy please,” I sighed heavily, trying my best to fight back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Riley, you need to tell me what’s going on,” she said with a mixture of confusion and worry in her voice.  “Do I need to call Paul?”  She asked in desperation.  She was holding the envelope out of my reach.

I threw myself onto the couch, my chest feeling heavier than it had ever felt before.  “I don’t even know how they found me,” I whispered.

“What are you going on about?” Andy looked at me with stern eyes.

“Please . . . “ I begged.  “I just can’t deal with this right now . . . I just . . . I can’t talk about any of this,” I sighed.

“Riley, we don’t keep secrets,” she said seriously.  “Never have I ever kept anything from you.  We tell each other everything.  The good . . .the bad . . . the crazy.  This is a no judgment zone.  You know that.  Whatever is in that envelope . . . no matter how bad you think it is . . . I’m here for you, and I’d never let anything hurt you . . . you know that right?”

My voice was caught in my throat, so I could only nod.  I cleared my throat, my eyes pleading with her.  “Just . . . just get rid of it,” I pleaded.  The tears that I had so desperately tried to hold back now flowing freely down my cheeks.  

I could see the fear and trepidation in Andy’s eyes.  She looked at me again and tossed the envelope in the trash.  “Okay,” she conceded.  “If that’s what you want . . . I’m going to respect your wishes.  I’m going to give you some privacy so that you can deal with . . . with whatever that was about,” she said.  She slowly started to retreat out of my bedroom.  “But Ri?” “Yeah?” I whispered.  

“We’re going to talk about all of this when you’re feeling up to it, okay?  Whatever is bothering you . . .or scaring you . . . it’s not good to keep that crap in,” she said firmly before closing the door behind her.  I sighed, throwing myself onto my bed.  With the door closed and Andy out of the room, I finally allowed myself to truly fall apart.

It was a few hours later when I woke with a start.  I had cried myself to sleep.  God, I was a train wreck.  My eyes shifted to the alarm clock on my end table and my heartbeat quickened.  I was going to be late for my date with Paul.  I threw the covers off of me, and looked in my vanity mirror.  I looked horrible.  My eyes were swollen, my cheeks were blotchy, and my hair was disheveled.  How could things have turned so poorly in a matter of hours?  I quickly ran to my bathroom and tried my best to camouflage the hours of crying with some make up.  I threw on the cutest outfit I could find and hustled to find a comfortable pair of boots.  I needed to throw myself into this date with Paul and not think about everything that happened over the last couple of hours.

I rushed into the living room heading straight toward the kitchen to grab my keys, when I was jolted in surprise.  Andy was sitting at the island counter waiting for me.

“Hey,” Andy said softly as turned to face me.  “Can we talk?”

I shook my head in disagreement.  “I’m running late . . . my date with Paul . . .” I trailed off.

“Riley, we need to talk.  Text Paul and let him know that you’re running late.  He’ll wait for you,” she assured me.

I swallowed thickly, a large lump forming in my throat.  “Okay,” I sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t give in so easily.  I had a major freak out . . . something that I don’t think she had ever seen before.  After shooting a quick text to Paul, I turned my full attention to Andy.  “I really don’t want to get into all of this right now . . . “ I started to say, hoping that she would just let all of this drop so that we can move forward with our lives.

“Well . . . you’re going to have to give me something, Riley,” she persisted.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice coming out a bit choppy.  I cleared my throat.  “I’m fine,” I said a little louder.

“You’re not,” she said adamantly.  

I shook my head shortly.  “I am.  I was just . . .a bit caught off guard.”

She didn’t believe me.  I could see it in her eyes.  She knew that I was lying through my teeth. The makeup may have hid my red nose and swollen face from all of my crying, but she could see the pain in my eyes.   My eyes started to water again . . .and I tried to sniff them back and hold it together.

Andy sensed that the tears were about to fall and pulled me into an embrace so tight that I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not okay,” I gasped out, and the tears began to slide down my cheeks.  

Andy’s embrace became tighter, her arm rhythmically rubbing up and down my back, trying to calm the sobs that kept coming out.  

“Ri,” Andy hesitantly began.  “What’s going on?”  She softly pulled back to look at me.  “Who is this letter from?”

I shrugged, wiping the tears away from my face.  “Some people I never thought I’d hear from again.”

“You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that,” she reasoned.

I turned away from Andy.  I knew she was worried.  I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.  “It’s complicated,” I muttered as I rubbed my forehead.  All of the crying had caused a headache to come on.  “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got lots of time.” Andy pulled me over to the couch, sitting me down on one side while she sat on the other.  She grabbed a pillow and placed it behind her back.  “And now I’m extra comfy.  Plus, I’m not going to quit bugging you until you tell me what you’re freaking out, so really, you’d just be better off getting this over with already.”  She smiled, nudging me with her elbow.

“I thought you had a thesis to work on,” I said, motioning to the paperwork strewn all across the coffee table and floor.  I didn’t want to talk about it.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.

“This is more important.”  Andy grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.  “Now spill.”

I couldn’t help but sigh.  Cordonia had been my dirty little secret for so long that I didn’t really know what to say.  When I moved back to New York, I didn’t tell anyone about my time gallivanting across Europe.  I was so dead set on forgetting everyone and everything that it was easier to just pretend that none of it actually happened.  

My gaze met Andy’s eager stare.  Maybe it was finally time to come clean about everything that happened?  After all, before the envelope arrived I was happy and thriving.  Hadn’t the wounds healed?  I was way better than when I first moved back.  I had great friends, an amazing boyfriend, a fantastic business . . . things had changed for the better.  I swallowed again willing myself to be strong enough to talk about everything that had happened back in Cordonia.

“Okay . . . so, before we met, I was a wreck,” I began slowly.  “I told you that I had been traveling before coming back to New York.” Andy nodded.  “You did like a summer abroad thing, right?” She asked.

“Not exactly,” I sighed.  “I had been waiting tables trying to save enough money so that I could go back to school.  It was a dead end job really, but it paid my bills and I was so close to having enough money to finish out my degree,” I explained.

“Okay . . .” she trailed off.  “That’s how you could afford to do the study abroad program then?”

“I never participated in a study abroad program,” I said quietly.  “I let you believe that’s what happened because I didn’t want to talk about what really happen.

Andy’s eyes widened.  “Wait, so you lied to me?” Her face hardened into an angry grimace.

“I didn’t lie . . . I just never corrected you when you assumed that I was doing a study abroad program,” I said hurriedly.  “I didn’t want to talk about what I was really doing because it was too hard and it hurt too much,” I explained.

Andy stiffened her back.  “Well, what were you doing then if you weren’t studying abroad?”

“So, I left Cordonia about two years ago.  It’s a tiny country in Europe right off the Mediterranean.”  I grabbed one of our decorative pillows and squeezed it tightly to my chest.  “I never talked about my time there because it wasn’t the greatest experience of my life.  I had no intention of going back there so I figured what was the point in bringing it up?”  I brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face.  “I didn’t even really plan on seeing any of the people I met again.  Something happened … and I just wanted to forget things  … move on.”

I shook my head.  I wasn’t making any sense.  I was started to ramble.  This was a lot harder than I had expected it to be.  I inhaled deeply.  “I guess I better start at the beginning,” I said as I exhaled the breath I had taken in.

“That’s typically a good place to start.”  Andy smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Right . . . so I was working the night shift at Upscale; it was almost closing time and this party walks in, tourists … you know the kind, loud, flashy,” I started to motion with my hands.  “My coworker asked me to take them because he was running late for a date.  I needed the extra cash and figured a large party like that would likely leave a pretty big tip, so I took it.  It was four guys celebrating a bachelor party.  At the end of the night, one of the members of the party came up to me and started talking to me, asked if I knew any good places for them to continue their evening,” I explained.  

“Sounds like he was trying to hit on you,” Andy commented.

I smiled at the memory.  “I kind of thought he was, too,” I agreed.  “Anyway, I offered a few suggestions, and then he asked if I wanted to join them.  He said they weren’t really familiar with the area and the wanted a New Yorker to show them around.  I was almost off the clock and I didn’t exactly have a full social calendar, so I figured why not?  They were all pretty cute, and I was looking forward to having a good time.”

“Sounds harmless enough,” Andy nodded in agreement.

“Exactly . . . and the guy that invited me … he seemed pretty special.”  I blushed as my head filled with thoughts about him.  I could vividly remember everything about him.  How he looked.  What he wore.  How he smelled.  Just thinking of that night caused my heart to beat faster.

Andy looked at me eagerly, prodding at me to continue.

“We kind of hit it off, and we ended up spending most of the night together – talking, laughing, sharing our dreams.  It was intense.  I hadn’t felt that sort of connection with someone … well ever.”  I smiled softly.  “But at the same time, I was trying my best not to get too invested in him because, well, they were tourists and I the last thing I wanted to become was a one night hook up, so I accepted that the only thing that would come out of that night was a great connection with a seemingly great guy.”  I adjusted myself on the couch, swinging both of my legs underneath me to get more comfortable.  “As the night went on, he let slip that they were out celebrating his bachelor party.” Andy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.  “You minx, you!”  Andy exclaimed.  “Hitting on a semi-married guy!”  

I shook my head.  “You have it all wrong.  It wasn’t like that.”  I remember feeling the exact same way though.  I remember being so angry at him for misleading me during the whole night.  “Of course, I freaked out and yelled at him about being a player . . . but then he explained that he didn’t know who he was going to be marrying.”

She arched an eyebrow.  “Um … how is that even possible?”

"Right?  I thought the exact same thing.  So … this is where I might lose you … I don’t even know if I believe it sometimes.  So, like I said they were tourists from Cordonia on vacation in the states for his bachelor party.  He just so happened to be part of Cordonia’s royal family.”

If Andy’s jaw could gape any wider than it already was, I would have been shocked.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know … trust me, I know.  It sounds unbelievable.  I didn’t believe it at first.  Honestly, the first thing I wanted to do after he told me was run away.  Especially since everything sounded so ridiculously complicated . . . but like I said . . . I was resigned to the fact that nothing would happen between us anyway and that it was just one of those serendipitous moments where you form a great connection but nothing more comes of it.”

I started to fiddle with the pillow that I was holding.  I ran my fingers over the edges.  I looked down, the memories becoming a bit too much for me to handle.  

“Of course . . . it didn’t end up that way,” I sighed.  “After we all went our separate ways that night, I tried not to think about him.  But he was all I thought about for the rest of the night and into the following morning.  It was like I was some sort of lovesick teenager,” I sighed.  “Crazy right?  I knew the guy for all of a few hours and I couldn’t stop thinking about him,”

Andy gave my knee an encouraging squeeze.  “Not crazy  . . . you can’t help when you make a connection with someone,” she said trying to comfort me.

“Well, then before I knew it … Maxwell … the guy I’m thinking sent me the letter,” I said pointing to the trash can “was at my bar convincing me to go back with them as a possible suitor for the Crown Prince.  It was crazy.  Hell, I was crazy.  But I figured why the hell not?  So I quit my job, packed a couple of bags, grabbed my passport, and off I went.”

“Just like that?”  Andy seemed genuinely surprised.

“Just like that.”  I nodded.

Andy laughed a little, “That sounds nothing like you. You’re always so careful and calculated about everything.”  

“Oh believe me, it was actually very like me, at least the me back then.  I liked to take risks, and I had figured even if it didn’t work out with him, I’d get to go on one hell of an adventure.  Of course, I never thought I’d actually fall in love.”  My voice softened a little.  “Through all the stupid competitions and court events, I fell in love with him.  Didn’t think I would … but I did.  And he fell in love with me.  At least I thought he did.”

Andy put her arm around me.  “It sounds like he meant a lot to you.”

“He did, but then things happened and we couldn’t be together.”  I wiped at my eyes.  God . . . I haven’t cried this much in years.  I didn’t want to rehash all of the awful memories.  I didn’t want to think about how the engagement tour had gutted me . . . I didn’t want to think about Madeline wearing his ring and holding his hand.  After all this time, it still broke my heart to remember what it was like sitting on the sidelines while someone else planned to marry the man of my dreams.  

“Well, I know the story doesn’t have a happy ending because you ended up back here.”  She looked a bit sad as she said it.  “I mean . . . wow, Ri.  It sounds like you had the love of a lifetime,” she admitted sadly.

I gave her a half-hearted smile.  “At the time, I didn’t think it was a happy ending, but you know what,   it was a happy ending in disguise.  Had things worked out how they were supposed, I would be there instead of here with you.”  

I knew I was right.  Had things ended with me marrying him . . . my whole life would be so different.  Who knows if I would even be happy?  I never would have met Andy . . . I never would have had my own business.  I never would have met Paul.  This was my life now.  No good could come from dwelling on the past.

“And that’s why I don’t want to open the envelope,” I said.  “I’m happy it’s in the trash.  It’s not going to change what happened or who I am now, so what good will opening it do?”

“Maybe it’ll give you some closure?”

“Or maybe it’ll be like Pandora’s box and will open a whole new set of problems,” I said frankly.  “Andy . . . this is my life.  I can’t go through what I went through all those years ago,” I said confidently.

“What if I opened it for you?”  Andy asked.  “It must be pretty important, Ri.  This Maxwell guy went through a lot of trouble to make sure it got to you.”

I shook my head once more.  “No.  Ignorance is bliss right?  Maybe not knowing what’s inside is better.  Nothing good comes from stirring up the past, especially things that involve Cordonia.”

“Riley, I know there’s some bad memories  .  . . “ Andy trailed off.

I shot her an irritated look.

“Okay, maybe that’s an understatement.  But look … if these people cared enough to reach out to you … after all this time … don’t you think you owe it to yourself to find out why?”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.  “Andy . . . enough.  You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I’m serious.  You said it yourself, you don’t even know how they found you.  They must have spent a great deal of time and energy trying to track you down.”

I licked my lips anxiously as I watched her head over to the trash bin.  She picked the envelope out of the trash, and flung it over to me.

“Regret is a crummy feeling, Riley.  I know you think that pretending that this letter doesn’t exist seems like the right thing, but trust me when I say it isn’t,” she said calmly.  “It might not matter to you now . . . it might not matter to you ten years from now . . . but maybe in twenty years when you think back on it, it will.  And there’s nothing you can do about it then except wonder ‘what if?’”

“What if it’s something bad?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“What if it’s your friends reaching out because they miss you?”  Andy countered.

I picked the envelope off the couch where it had landed after Andy threw it at me.  There was a part of me that knew Andy was right.  Would I be able to live with myself years from now if I was filled with regret about not knowing what the letter said?  I played with the edges of the thick envelope.  The letter was from one of the Beaumont brothers, of that I was certain, and throughout my time in Cordonia they had been nothing but kind and protective of me.  They were like the older brothers I never had growing up.  They took me into their home, accepted me as a member of their house, and asked for nothing in return.  I sighed heavily, looking at Andy for encouragement.

“No matter what happens, I’m here for you,” she said, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.  

I took a deep breath before I started to slowly slide my finger across the envelope’s seal.  I could feel my heartbeat quicken in anticipation.  I carefully removed the elegant letter.  Scanning through the wording, I immediately realized what it was.

“It’s a wedding invitation,” I exclaimed in surprise.  As I opened it further I noticed that there was a tiny slip of paper nestled in the envelope.  Two words were scrawled in Maxwell’s chicken scratch along with an email address.

Please Come. [email protected]

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