#what do you think did more psychic damage. losing his brother or the years of accumulative stress

[lazycranberrydoodles]

soggy failgirl sect leader

while i was looking for the reference pic i found out someone already did this for shang qinghua lmao

#for those wondering what the chinese means its just ‘i hate being a sect leader’ over and over #what do you think did more psychic damage. losing his brother or the years of accumulative stress #mdzs #art #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the grandmaster of diabolism #the untamed #cql #nie huaisang #mdzs meme #lmao #digital art #my art #sketch #doodle #魔道祖师 #陈情令

[celticcrossanon]

Hello Celta, welcome back. You were missed. A comment on them forcing HM to approve their wedding. Of course Harry wants to be seen in the eyes of the world equal to his brother. No way he was going to do a civil ceremony. He wanted all the bells and whistles William had. Cue the strop and the tantrums.

Mad World and other tarot readers pulled some cards on the Harkles upcoming Royal Tour to the UK and indications are it’s not going to go well. The general consensus is that they are going to the UK in response to William’s visit to UN in prep for Earthshot. This is not a well thought out plan, and people feel that this will hasten their breakup. Mysterious pulled some cards and there’s an air of resignation from the Harkles. Surprisingly Charles is in emperor mode, and William is the empress, protecting himself and all.

Word on the street is that Harry wanted even more information from the French regarding his precious mums death. And they aren’t having it. They told him where to get off. This is in relation to his book. I think this supposed book will be the catalyst for them to blow up the marriage. Harry will lose much more than he will gain and they will implode. The jury seems to be out in this book I have to say. Some psychics don’t see it coming out, written but not published. Others see it a very damaging to all, and Harry cut off.

Nice to have you back.

Hi AnonymousRetired,

Thank you for the kind words. <3

I also think that Harry and Meghan wanted their wedding to be the biggest and best ever. There were rumours at the time of Harry insisting that his wedding cost the same as William's, with the figure updated for inflation. I think there were even a couple of articles on this (I could be very wrong, my memory is fuzzy)??

I am not surprised at the forecasts for the UK visit by the Harkles, as I can see no way that it would go well. They are returning to a country they publicly trashed after spending huge amounts of taxpayer money on themselves, and they are doing it for events that will be used to promote them as a couple (not them promoting the events). I'm surprised the charities agreed to have them at the events, to be honest. I would have said no.

The wish to upstage Prince William is also believable. That seems to be the motivating force behind an awful lot of their actions. I am prepared to watch them fail yet again. At this stage the question is not 'will they fail' but rather 'how will they fail'.

I am glad that Charles has finally moved into Emperor mode (strong leader, protects country and dependents , proactive not reactive, and so on).

Good on the French for telling Harry where to go. All the official information was released and examined years ago. There isn't anything else left to say about the matter in terms of who did what and why it happened. It's over for everyone except Harry and Meghan.

There are signs that a divorce may be coming in their publicity (renewal of vows, lovely-dovey stuff like that usually precedes a break up announcement among celebrities), but I refuse to get my hopes up until it is announced. They still have time to change their minds (yet again).

I also think that Harry will lose far more than he will gain with this book.

It is lovely to be back. :)

[lloydskywalkers]

heLLO i’m so sorry this took so long!! tumblr did not, in fact, eat your ask this time, i just took five years with the response T-T i did very much want to write something about Jay and Cliff (because that’s a criminally underused relationship), but unfortunately season 12 has come out since i wrote All I’m Asking For and kind of...made things...a lot angstier :’( so this leans much more on the angst side than the fluff, but!! there is some in there, i promise

It happens mid-battle, which is never a good time for anything to happen, really, other than a spontaneous victory. If it had happened at any other time, Jay would’ve gone with him. Any other time, he tells himself, he would’ve found the time to talk.

But it’s mid-battle right after Sensei Wu’s gone missing in time, and ironically enough, time is the last thing Jay has on his hands.

It’s not even the worst of battles — just some jerks who actually happen to have too much time and advanced high-grade weaponry on their hands — but it’s enough to send the city’s civilians screaming for cover as another chunk of building comes raining down toward them. Normally Cole would take this kind of thing, since Jay’s more about the agile, dynamic stuff (not because his arms are a whole lot like half-cooked spaghetti noodles next to Cole’s, not at all). But Cole’s on the other side of the city running collateral damage watch with Zane, so Jay’s the only one around to snatch the poor man out of harm’s way before a chunk of concrete squashes him.

“Whoo, that was close,” he breathes out, as dust mushrooms out from the impact nearby. Jay carefully sets the man down, coughing briefly and tugging his mask into place. “You alright?”

The man doesn’t reply, staring at Jay with wide, eerily familiar eyes. “You,” he breathes, as if Jay is some miraculous apparition — which, sure, Jay just saved his life, but like, he’s Jay. He’s a whole two or three inches shorter than this guy, he’s not super impressive.

“You’re the lightning ninja,” the man continues. “You’re — Jay?”

Caught between being pleased he’s recognized and being slightly creeped out, Jay opens his mouth to reply. Then he looks at the guy, actually looks at the guy, and immediately shuts it. And a good thing, too, because Jay’s mouth suddenly goes so dry it kinda feels like a dust vacuum.

“Y-you’re Cliff Gordon,” he manages, on a wheezing kind of whisper. “H-hi. Hi, hello, it’s—”

An honor? Jay’s half-hysterical mind throws at him. What is he supposed to say? Hello, long-lost father who gave me up as a baby, I figured that out, by the way? Does Cliff even know Jay’s his son? Does he even know his name’s Jay? Oh, why oh why has Jay put off acknowledging anything that happened with Nadakhan for this long, just because the entire thing’s a minefield worth of trauma and it makes him wildly nauseous to think about it at all, it doesn’t mean—

“Jay,” Cliff Gordon repeats, his eyes wide and shiny, and Jay’s stomach drops like he’s on a roller coaster. Because the way he says his name — it’s like he knows, it’s like he cares—

“You, uh,” Jay swallows, utterly oblivious to the exploding building two blocks back. “I think…you knew my mom?”

Alright, points for Jay for the lamest segue into this possible, but the beaming, almost-painful smile that splits Cliff’s face at least drowns part of the shame out.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, looking part-overjoyed, part-terrified. “If you know that, then — you must know I’m your — I never meant to lose—”

Cliff cuts off painfully, dragging a hand through his graying hair. Jay vaguely notes the puffs of dust that go drifting off from it, before the awkward silence gets too heavy and his mouth kicks back into action.

“Yeah, kinda…figured that out,” Jay laughs, nervously. “I don’t, um, I’m not mad…? If that’s what you’re worried about, but it’d be uh, nice to…”

“Of course,” Cliff nods fervently, as if he’s somehow psychic and can mind-read the ten thousand words’ worth of questions barraging across Jay’s brain. “Of course, we should talk, there’s so much I need to explain, I—”

Jay’s radio interrupts him in a bursting screech of static, leaving them both wincing.

“Jay, any day you wanna get back in the game, we could use a little help here!”

Kai’s voice is strained, and Jay glances from the battle to his — Cliff — with wild eyes. Cliff shakes his head, waving toward his teammates.

“Go on, go on,” he says, something like pride in his voice. “You’ve got a much more important job to do.” He pauses, his eyes bright and painfully hopeful. “But you’ll — you’ll come and visit me sometime, will you?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods, feeling oddly shaky. “Of course, I’d — I’d really like that.”

Cliff Gordon’s face splits into full smile, and Jay takes that as his cue to leave before he does something hideously embarrassing, like run his mouth or try to — to hug the guy. His eyes catch the bright flash of the Destiny’s Shadow, and he jumps up as Lloyd tilts the plane, Zane reaching a hand out to snag Jay and haul him in.

“Nice timing,” Jay gasps in thanks as he finds his seat, fumbling once with the tight squeeze. “Sorry about the wait.”

Zane simply squeezes his shoulder briefly. “I am merely glad to see you in one piece,” he says, wincing briefly as another explosion goes off. Jay cringes as his eyes rake over the smoking flames. Man, they’re gonna be stuck doing repairs here forever—

“Who was that?”

Jay startles back to himself at Lloyd’s voice, blinking rapidly. He opens his mouth, prepared to unleash a floodgate’s worth of “you’ll never believe this”—

Then stops dead as Zane and Lloyd stare curiously at him, awaiting answer. Jay shuts his mouth, and swallows.

How is he supposed to announce he’s met his father — his second, whole father, in addition to the super great one he already has — to them? To Zane, who barely got any time with his only parent before he died? To Lloyd, who's still actively grieving having lost his only dad for like, the third time? How’s that gonna go over, huh, motormouth?

So Jay shakes his head, forcing an easy laugh instead. “Just some random fan.”

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

He means to follow up right after. He does, really, but everything goes to hell in a handbasket so quickly Jay barely even has time to breath. First it’s the months of searching for Sensei, then it’s guarding the royal family, then they’re on the run, then they’re watching Garmadon brutalize their baby brother on live television and he’s dying on a table and the city’s being destroyed by a giant and the Bounty’s being crushed with them on it and they’re running for their lives in the First Realm and Sensei Wu’s a teenager and—

They’re kind of busy, that’s the point he’s trying to make.

Eventually, there’s a brief spot of time he could go, maybe. It’s right after they’ve returned from the First Realm, though, and that’s...not a great time.

The city’s still stumbling back to its feet, for one, and the loss of the emperor and empress doesn’t exactly help. Their little family’s left stumbling back to its feet even slower, as beaten down and utterly exhausted as they are. The four of them had their own run of it in the First Realm, but Lloyd and Nya didn’t have it any better back in Ninjago, and the whole thing’s just — just a big mess. And sure, maybe reuniting with his long-lost biological father now could like, actually benefit Jay’s half-shredded mental state, since the guy seemed pretty happy to see him, but…

But fathers.

Lloyd still wanders their apartment like a ghost at night, his eyes dull and haunted from whatever night terror he’s been graced with now. He wanders a little bit like that in the day, too, eyes glazing over and hands trembling at times. Jay knows why, of course — they all know, it’s not a secret. Not with the high-definition TV footage that keeps circulating. And they — they try to help, of course, they do their very best, but there are some things only time can fix.

Jay watches Lloyd’s eyes shutter at the mention of his father, and wonders if his entire life is enough to fix whatever’s been broken with his own.

In other words, Jay decides to be a coward.

Ironically enough, however, it ends up being Lloyd that encourages him to go. Not that he realizes that.

“Don’t bother making extra for dinner tonight, Zane,” Lloyd announces wearily, as he trudges through the kitchen. “My mom’s on the road again.”

Zane blinks at that, then frowns. “Where is she off to now?”

“Don’t know,” Lloyd says shortly, before promptly stalking off toward the rooftop exit. Jay and Zane stand there in silence for a moment, Zane still methodically stirring the rice. Then he turns to Jay, and fixes him with a look.

“Grumpy-about-parents Lloyd is normally Nya’s job, you know,” Jay huffs, but he relents, following Lloyd’s quiet footsteps to the roof. Lloyd’s curled up in his usual spot, close enough to the edge that it frightened the life out of Kai the first time they found him. Jay doesn’t exactly get why, because Lloyd’s sad, yeah, but he’s not—

Well, maybe Kai’s just scared Lloyd’ll trip and fall off the roof. That’s what Jay’s choosing to believe, for his own sake.

Either way, Lloyd looks pretty sad now, so Jay plops himself right down next to him with a huff, neatly startling Lloyd so badly he almost does trip right off the roof.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me,” Jay says quickly, throwing his hands up. Lloyd glares at him, and Jay makes a face. “Don’t give me that, you’re the one that’s supposed to have ninja reflexes.”

“Hmph,” Lloyd grumbles, wrapping his arms back around his knees, but he looks slightly less likely to zap Jay’s nervous system full of energy, so he takes that as a go-ahead.

“So, your mom, huh,” Jay starts, with all the intent of comforting Lloyd and comforting Lloyd alone. “Hey, random question, but how did, um, why’d you decide to let her back into your life, in the first place?”

“What?” Lloyd stares at him. Jay cringes. Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out. Classic Walker, he’s brought his own issues right into the middle of it, like an absolute selfish—

Great, now he wants to throw himself off the roof.

“Sorry, sorry, forget I said that,” Jay babbles, desperately trying to re-route the conversation. “Just — forget I opened my mouth, okay? Please?”

Lloyd shakes his head, looking more concerned than sad now. He’s even unfolded from his tight little Lloyd-angst-ball, which Jay would count as a victory if it weren’t for all the wrong reasons. “Jay, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Jay blusters. Lloyd stares at him. Jay gives him a bright smile back. Lloyd continues to stare.

“Okay, fine, not really, but — that’s not why I came up here,” Jay admits, cheeks flushing.

Lloyd’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is everything…okay with your parents?” His voice is tentative, as if he’s almost scared of Jay’s response, and Jay can’t have that.

“My parents are fine,” he replies, firmly. “But, uh, thanks for asking. I’m just…” Jay trails off, abruptly realizing that explaining this is going to require mentioning Cliff Gordon, which is going to require mentioning that he’s adopted, which is going to require explaining why he hasn’t told the rest of his team this. None of which are options Jay wants to explore at the moment, so he desperately tries to backtrack.

Lloyd, faithfully caring brother that he is to the bitter end, beats him to it. “Well, even if they are fine, um. To answer your question, I guess I…I needed to know.” He blows his breath out, glancing out over the skyline, half-broken buildings forming dark silhouettes against the setting sun. “I needed to know why she - she left me. If it was me, or if it was her, or…whatever, you know?” Lloyd bites his lip, and Jay suddenly feels like a horrible person for putting him through the mother thing right after the father thing’s been blown to smithereens.

And yet.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jay says quietly, letting it sink in. And he does, really. More than he thought he would, and this is probably a big glaring sign from the heavens, huh.

“But I don’t know,” Lloyd continues, sounding small as his hands tug on a frayed thread from a torn spot in his gi. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to cut people out entirely, too.”

He looks terribly worn when he says that, too young and too old for his age all at once, and Jay decides he hates the expression on his youngest brother.

“I’ll remember that, next time you steal the last of my coffee stash,” he says.

Lloyd gives a startled huff of laughter, before jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “That’s not what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile edging his mouth now — not quite the Lloyd smile he’s used to, but it’s not as frail as it’s been, either. Lloyd doesn’t look so much like porcelain that’s been stepped on anymore, and the proud spark of joy Jay feels from that is enough to convince him that it’s a good idea.

He did promise Cliff Gordon he would, after all, and besides — knowing can’t be that bad, and Jay’s a firm believer in the wisdom of knowledge, and all that.

He’s also a firm believer of closure, but he’s stopped claiming to be one, since it probably comes off pretty hypocritical lately.

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

Jay doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t even tell them he’s going at all, he just…waits for a convenient opportunity to slip out when no one will notice.

He wishes he had. He wishes he’d told Cole, told Nya or - or anyone he was going, and at the same time he’s glad he told no one at all. He’s not quite sure he could bear anyone else seeing whatever look’s on his face right now, on top of everything else.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” the woman at the estate tells him, her eyes teary. “Cliff Gordon passed away a month ago.”

That…doesn't make sense, at first. It takes a minute, to sink through the odd roaring noise in Jay’s ears, and finally reach his brain.

“Passed…away,” he repeats, blankly.

The lady nods, looking at him with so much pity Jay kind of wants to kick her shins. “It was his heart, poor man. He hasn’t been so well the last few years, you know.”

“Right.” Jay feels a little like he does when he’d used to jump off his dragon, except this time he’s been tossed from it and he’s free-falling to a short and sudden stop.

“Did you know him?” she asks, curiously.

Jay tries to make some form of response, like “I was his son”, except all that comes out is a whole bunch of nothing. Nothing, just like what’s left in Jay’s head. He blinks rapidly, trying to banish the image seared into his brain.

Cliff Gordon’s eyes, bright and painfully hopeful.

You’ll come visit me sometime, will you?

Jay swallows thickly. “Sorry, if you’ll, uh — excuse me, I think lunch was bad.” Then he ducks for the nearby bushes, and proceeds to be horribly sick.

He tells himself, through heaving gasps, that the hot tears are only reflexive.

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

And that’s that. Jay, stupid, selfish Jay, waited too long and now he’s lost his chance forever. Because he was — what, scared? Nervous?

He’s not scared now. He kind of just hates himself, which isn’t the newest thing in the world, but this time it burns like the worst of scrapes and crawls up on him in the middle of the night, screaming what-if’s into his brain until Jay’s biting down on his pillow before he starts screaming himself.

It hurts, but he’s got no one to blame but himself. Jay messed this up all his own and he sure as heck doesn’t deserve any sympathy from his team for it. So he’s not going to even give them the chance, because they’ll never know. Jay will take this secret to the grave, because imagining the looks on everyone else’s face when he tells them he ruined this makes him want to put himself in the grave.

How long did he wait for Jay, how long did he—

Jay’s just going to drive himself insane with his own stupid brain and that’s that.

Well, that’s supposed to be that. It would’ve been that, except Cole is perceptive and Cole knows him too well, and Cole spots the look on his face when he’s telling him everything he’s found out about his mother, since Jay can’t even hide that from him.

And maybe Jay’s just weak, or so desperate for some form of reassurance or - or attention that he cracks, and spills the whole sorry thing to Cole. To his undying credit, Cole doesn’t even look like he despises Jay once. Instead, he looks at him with all this sympathy and kindness and oh, if Jay was a crier—

Well, actually, Jay is a crier, and ends up bawling into Cole’s gi at two in the morning, but what else is new.

The important thing is that Cole is Jay’s very best friend and possibly favorite person in the whole entire world, and Jay is going to murder him in cold blood for dragging him to Cliff Gordon’s estate and forcing their way in.

“If he cared enough to want to meet you, he’ll have cared enough to leave you in his will,” Cole reminds him, staunchly. “He knows how busy your life was, so I’ll bet you anything he understood.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Jay hisses, as Cole manhandles him down the mansion’s — the mansion’s! — hallways. “I don’t deserve it.”

“For the love of—” Cole cuts off with an exasperated huff. “It is not your fault this happened. This is not on you. How many times are we going to have to do this, Jay.”

“Until the time you let me wallow in miserable peace,” Jay mutters. What does Cole know, it’s not like he totally bailed on his parent and then let them die. Not that Jay could do anything about that last part, sure, but the rest of it.

Cole stops them in one of the massive living rooms, finally fixing Jay with one of those stares. Uh oh.

“At least read the letter,” Cole says, suddenly pleading. “You don’t have to look at anything else if you don’t want to, but please read the letter. For me?”

Oh, Jay hates him. He tells him so, even as his glare falters in the face of Cole’s stupid puppy eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Cole replies hopefully, offering the letter they were handed with the estate key. Jay gives him a last, withering glare before snatching the letter from him.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, as he tears open the envelope with shaky fingers. He hesitates for a beat, before mustering whatever pathetic courage he has and tugging the paper out, unfolding it as his eyes find the carefully scrawled words.

My dear Jay—

He promptly bursts into tears.

“Jay wha — Jay what’s wrong, is it that bad?” Cole is frantic as he hovers over him, his hands half-caught between reaching for Jay and reaching for the letter in his hands. Jay shakes his head, trying to stifle the sudden waterfall’s worth of tears that decided to make an appearance, and clutches the paper tighter.

Cole makes an anxious sound. “Jay, you know he’s — if he’s said something bad, it’s — he doesn’t know anything, right?”

Oh no, now Jay wants to cry harder. Cole sounds desperately concerned, kind and caring and genuine like Cole always is, and Jay feels like the worst person in the world.

Stupid, Jay, he scolds himself hotly, swiping angrily at his eyes. Stupid, selfish Jay. He’s got nothing to be crying about. Zane only had one dad, and he doesn’t go around whining about it. Lloyd’s got one dad who’s died three times, and may as well be dead now ‘cause he’s such a jerk. Kai and Nya didn’t even have any parents until last year. And Cole lost his mom who he loved, he loved so much, and he’s still here supporting Jay — stupid, selfish Jay, who’s got two entire stable parents who he’s never once doubted love him, and yet here he is, crying over the one he never really knew.

“Jay,” Cole tries again, quieter this time. “Jay, you’re allowed to be sad about your dad. It’s not a contest.”

Stupid, perceptive Cole.

“He said he loves me,” Jay finally croaks, swiping at the tears all over his face. “He didn’t even know me, Cole, how was he supposed to know that?”

Cole’s eyes soften, all melty and gross. “You’re his son, Jay, he knew you.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “Besides, he talked to you once, right? You make some pretty impactful first impressions, motormouth.”

Jay can’t decide whether to be insulted or more flattered than he’s been in the last six months. He decides to punch Cole weakly in the shoulder, before crying harder. Cole doesn’t even flinch at the hit, built like a rock as he is, and simply snatches Jay’s arm and tugs him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. And oh, Jay wants to pull away, he doesn’t want to break down in his dead father’s mansion like this, Jay doesn’t have a lot of dignity but he’s at least got his shreds, but—

Cole gives the best stupid hugs in the world, and what’s Jay gonna do, deny such instant love and comfort? The risk of hurting Cole’s feelings far outweighs Jay’s tattered dignity, he tells himself. That’s why he clings to Cole like an overgrown barnacle and wails into his shoulder like a broken faucet. That’s the only reason, obviously.

“It’s okay to cry, you big moron,” Cole says after he’s calmed down, briefly squeezing tighter. “I get it. But you really should read more than the first lines of that thing. I think…I think it’ll help.”

“This is all I’ve got, though,” Jay sniffles. “I don’t — I lost any other connection I’ve got to him.”

“Sometimes you just gotta work with what you have,” Cole says gently, a little bitter, a little sweet. “And somehow, you have to make it enough.”

Jay pauses at that, thinking back to the statue miles and miles beneath a mountain, the delicate locket Cole had turned over in his fingers. He looks back to the letter in his hands, the lines and lines of all the words his father left for him, and remembers Lloyd’s words about knowing.

His fingers tighten on the edges of his letter. Jay, he decides, is done being scared. He’s got Cole at his side — what’s he got to be afraid of, anyways?

“Okay,” he says, swiping once more at his eyes, and giving Cole a watery smile. “Okay. Help me read through the whole thing?”

“I wore my old sweatshirt for a reason,” Cole replies, making a show of wringing his sleeve out. Jay whacks him with the envelope, but the laugh he shudders out feels real, this time. He gently spreads the letter out atop his lap, focusing on the words again.

It’ll be enough. It’ll sting, but…it’ll be enough.

Like Lloyd’s tattered photograph, like Cole’s mother’s last words — it has to be.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #jay walker #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #since they're both...fairly present at points gdnkfgj #i just have many feelings about jay apparently T-T #my fic #answered

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER ONE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks                                                                                                                  Season 1-                                                                                                                   FEM OC! and ?

Here's the Prologue in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!

There is something that I should probably tell you: My Dad went missing at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. Heavy, I know. My dad has always been obsessed with the waves and their secrets. Going above and beyond with his research just to understand the smallest corners of the ocean. I still remember the day he told me about this amazing ship called ‘The Royal Merchant’ like it was yesterday.

Bursting through the tarnished door of the Château, kicking my shoes off as I rushed into the kitchen, “Dad! Look what my friend made me,” I announced causing my dad to jump, smacking his head on the cabinet that he was tucked within, screwdriver in hand.

“Ow. Fuck!” he hissed and I gasped at the man, pointing accusingly at the jar which reads 'Pay up, Chuck!’. Grunting, but not objecting, he pulls out a dollar, stuffing it in the jar before turning around staring at my innocent face.

“You have a mark,” I giggled and gestured his whole face, “There,” and he just asked “Has it damaged my handsome face?” which I instantly shake my head at saying, “Of course not.”

“That’s my girl,” he ruffles my hair causing me to huff and swat away his hands as he pulls out a chair now looking eye-level at me, “And what’s this?” he asked, gently taking the delicate origami boat out of my small hands.

“It’s a boat,” I stated the obvious, “My friend and I are going to sail it tomorrow at the boat race,” I said proudly with my hands on my hips

“Oh really,” he raised his eyebrows at me, brushing his fingers over the pink initials on the side of the 'boat’.

’M&T’

“Yes. My friend has a remote control boat that he’s going to race and I want to take part too, so he made me this,” I confess, eyes sparkling at the boat my dad’s fiddling with, “It’s good isn’t it?”

My dad just looked at me, “Do you really want to enter the boat race?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for any sign of uncertainty.

“Well yeah,” I tilted my head, “Do you think I’ll win?”

“Can I show you something?” he asked ignoring my question which I scrunched my nose at, but nodded none the less. My paper boat still in hand, dad made his way over to his office and I followed behind cautiously, stopping at the door, peering in at him as he sits at his desk, “Come in Ladybug.”

Placing my boat at the head of his desk, he beckons me over, tapping the photographs he pulled out. It was a ship. I had never seen a ship like it before. It had huge, white sails that were propelled forward with the weight of the wind. Painted coal black with the most luxurious gold lining along the sides, but what stood out the most was the angel. At the bow of the ship, there was the most beautiful sculpture, its wings spread and arms wide, welcoming the waves that it cruised through.

“Wow,” was all I could say and my dad seemed to understand the overwhelmingness, “Amazing, isn’t it?” he asked and I nodded agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Imagine sailing that in the boat competition,” I dreamed, I could see it then. Me, standing tall and proud, captains hat on my head, sword in hand as I order us forward, trusting the directions of the angel.

“That would be something,” he muses tapping my nose as I was causing condensation to gather on the photo with how closely I was examining at it, “But sadly this ship sank a long time ago.”

The news shocked me. 'How could such a breathtaking ship just sink?’ I thought, so I asked just that.

“Well, sometimes ships don’t always make it through their voyage,” he reasoned and I looked at him with careful eyes, “Maybe it was pirates?” I suggested.

“Pirates?” he laughed, leaning back in his chair, watching with amusement as I darted around his office reenacting the scene of a Pirate trying to steal the ship, “Argh! Where be the gold?”  a pencil held accusingly in his direction.

“At the bottom off the ocean.”

His abruptness caused me to lose character as I stared at him in curiosity, “Wait, really?” I jumped on his desk, my act is long forgotten as I swung my legs back and forward. He just nods, eyes wrinkling with a wide smile.

I grabbed his hand, shaking it, “Then what are we waiting for? Let go get it,”  my innocence was nothing short of entertaining for my dad, “It’s a little harder than that, ladybug,” he answered, my shoulders dropping at his response, “And what would you do with $500 million in gold, huh?”

$500 million!? Ignoring my initial shock and answered back with the utmost certainty, “I’d go, full Kook.”

He chuckled at my honesty, reaching down for the old box that was sitting beside his chair. Pulling off the tape and rummaging through the brown tissue paper as I sneezed at the dust that danced around in the air.

He pulled out a boat. It was like a replica of the 'Royal Merchant’ with a bit of character. Its blue paint peeling off the sides and the single sail sitting askew at the mast. Passing it gently to me he said, “I want you to sail this at the boat competition tomorrow,” he announced as he timidly waited for my reaction.

“I know it’s old and not remote-controlled-” placing the boat beside me, I lunged forward pulling my dad in for a hug. The hairs on his chin digging into my shoulder caused me to back away slightly, “Thank you, Dad,” I whispered.

Picking up the boat, I stared at it proudly.

My own Royal Merchant.

“I call it… the 'HMS Pogue.”

I miss him.

Life was so much easier when I was five. No worries or responsibilities. Life was just… good.

Three months after he went missing the police declared him dead, but John B and I weren’t giving up. Until I see a body, I’m not signing anything.

As for mom, you’ve probably had a better chance of seeing her than I have. She left when we were three years old and moved to Colorado. At least John B said it was Colorado.

Then there’s the legend himself, Uncle T. I say legend because I haven’t seen him in years, for all I know he might not even be real. Since dad vanished he is supposed to be our legal guardian. However, he’s currently in Mississippi for construction, 'Building an Empire’, as he explained to me over the phone, or did he. No, he really did, something about him 'making his way up in the world.’Good for him, I guess?

So, for the time being, it’s just been, Johnny Boy and I. A pair of unemancipated teenagers who have been living on our own.

“It has come to our attention that you’re two unemancipated minors living on your own,” Cheryl says sighing, taking off her glass staring us down as if daring us to tell her otherwise.

John B and I exchange looks before turning back to Cheryl who looks at us expectingly, “No,” John B laughs scoffing at her 'assumption’. She tilts her head at John B, turning to me waiting for my Input, “Sounds false,” I say, going back to clicking the rather expensive pen that I nabbed off her desk.

Rolling her eyes at the pair of us, “What I need from you two is honesty,” reaching over in an attempt to snatch the pen out of my hand. I just hold it my above my head out of her reach with a childish smile. Sighing, she slumps back in her chair, “I want to help you. That’s what we want, right?” she continues.

“Yeah, we’ll be honest,” John B nods as I hold up three fingers, “Scouts honour,” I smile at the lady.

Letting out another sigh, 'God, she sighs a lot,’ she begins to write, “When was the last time you both saw your uncle?” she asks.

Not even having to look at my brother, I already know what he was going to say, “34 minutes ago,” we both announce. Cheryl glances up from her papers, squinting at our synchronization, “And when was the last time you saw him?”

“Two hours and 43 minutes ago,” I say again in sync with John B who shudders at the fact that I knew exactly what he was going to say. Shrugging off his wide eyes, I stare at Cheryl who places down her pen, hands now clasped professionally on her desk, “We’re going to come out tomorrow, to speak with your uncle. If he’s not there, we’re going to move forward with foster care.”

With that, John B and I stand up moving our way to the door, my knees slightly shaking at the lady’s words. John B holds the door open for me but pauses when Cheryl calls out, “I can assure you, both of you, we will find a safe and loving home,”

Turning back once more, “You don’t want this back, do you?” I ask, dangling the turquoise Tiffany pen catching her attention again.

“I’ll collect it when we come by tomorrow,” she dismisses.

'Right. Tomorrow.’

“How did you do that?” John B questions as we walk towards the van, “Do what?” I ask, sticking the pen behind my ear.

“Know what I was going to say to Cheryl,” He answers fishing the keys out of his pocket, “Because we’re psychic, remember?”

Feeling the lack of presence beside me, I turn to see John B just eyeing me down. Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “You think out loud,” referring to John B’s concerning amount of mumbling before arriving here.

“I do not,” he mutters walking up to the driver’s side of the van, “also,  you weren’t a scout,” he calls out.

“I know,” I admit, “It just made me feel less bad about lying.”

Sitting in the uncomfortable heat, my back sticking to the ripped leather seats, my head running with thoughts, I ask, “Do you think they’ll split us up?”

Looking out the rolled-down window all I see is passing houses and blurred faces. I see people with no worries and I can’t help but feel helpless in my situation. We have no control over anything that happens. Sure we can run, but how long is it until we run out of breath?

Sometimes I just wish we could go back in time, back to when my biggest problem in life was arguing with Pope that it was a useless skill knowing the first thirty numbers of PI. It’s impressive, super nerdy, but still impressive, and also completely useless. ’See, I still can’t get over it.’

“Is that what you’re so worried about? Us being split up,” he questions, now understand why the first five minutes of the drive home was unnaturally silent.

“Well yeah, doesn’t it scare you too? The thought of living with another family who have no idea who we are and take pity on us because our dad went missing,” my voice cracking slightly at the mention of dad. Even after nine months, it’s still hard to believe that he’s just… gone. Things like that don’t just happen. Not here. Not now.

“Hey,” he says rubbing my knee, I stop picking at my bracelet, looking up at him with damp eyes, “Foster care is the last place we’ll be going, okay?” Despite the niggling at the back of my head, I sheepishly nod at him now feeling stupid for getting upset about something that I knew John B would never allow to happen.

“And beside’s if they did split us up, which they won’t 'cause we’re not going to foster care, you’d for sure be given back after they realise how much of a pest you are,” I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, rubbing my hand under my nose, “Oh, I’m the pest?” I cough, leaning my back against the door looking accusingly at the boy.

“100%. You know what your problem is?” looking in my direction quickly making sure I was still listening to him, a knowing smirk covering his face, “You love me too much and you can’t bare the thought of living without me.”

I know what he’s was saying was meant to be joke, but it holds truth behind it. I don’t know where I would be without John B. Say its because we’re twins and we naturally have that bond together, but he has been a constant rock throughout my life. He has always been there, not only from birth.

From when he learned how to walk before me and would attempt to lift me by my head urging me to do the same. From our first day at school, when we walked hand in hand through the gates. From my first relationship that didn’t last longer than a day because I got him to hand the poor boy a note saying 'I wanted to break up’.

I don’t know why I thought this would be any different.

John B didn’t have to be my friend. He could have just left it at 'sister’ and that’s it. But he didn’t and he never would. I might be his sister first and foremost, but secondly, I’m also his friend. A friend that he can tell anything to. A friend who he can lean on when times get tough. A friend who will always be there for him. I support and love him as a sister and as a friend.

He’s my rock.

“I really couldn’t,” I admit knowing fine well that if John B wasn’t here I wouldn’t want to know who I’d be. I’d be a completely different person and that’s a person I’d rather not meet.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” he says pulling up to the Château,  bringing the van to a stop. Pushing open the door, I stop when I hear him confess, “I couldn’t live you either,” he smiles at me.

“Look whose being sappy now,” closing the door behind me, making my way round to the front of the house.

“Hey, you’ll be alright on your own for a bit yeah? I’m going to head in town, see what’s up with the storm,” he calls and I just nod and eagerly ask, “Can you bring me home Reese’s cup? Kie ate them all.”

“Pretty sure it was you who ate them all, but sure Mace,” he honks the horn as I wave him off down the road.

The Château. Home sweet home. Well, as sweet as an old fish shack on the marsh can be. It might not look like much, but if you can look past the peeling wallpaper, leaking ceiling, tatted coach, and a terrible internet connection, you’d see a home.

Kicking off my shoes, I welcome in the smell of burnt toast courtesy of John B this morning. 'It’s not burnt, just lightly crisped,’ he said. If you would consider a chard slice on bread to be 'lightly crisped’ then he’s an expert at making toast.

I’ve had a tough day, more like a tough year, but I digress. My dad’s missing, mom’s out of the picture, my uncle is M.I.A, and now the bride of Frankenstein is threatening me with foster care. I deserve a gold star just for not going insane yet.

Pulling out dad’s stash of old records, my eyes flicker until I set sight on the album. 'Elvis’ Gold Records Vol 4,’ smiling fondly at the faded cover, the corners hanging together for dear life with the number of times its been played.

Tactfully, I place the record on the turntable of dad’s '54 Garrard oak record player. Gently I blow on the record until the static scratching fades and Elvis’ soulful voice fills the room with an energy that I can’t help, but dance to.

'You look like an angel, walk like an angel,’

I prance around the room, mumbling the lyrics under my breath, swaying my hips slowly, losing myself for just a moment within the strumming of the bass. Just as fast, I’m jumping around the living room like Tazmanian Devil, flipping my hair as I pretend to be playing the instruments as the chorus drops.

'You’re the devil in disguise, oh yes, you are the devil in disguise,’

I grab the stick of deodorant, using it as a microphone as I yell the lyrics, pointing at my reflection like a rockstar. My eyes instantly closing as a glare of light reflects into my eyes, 'It’s the paparazzi, they’ve found me,’ I thought.

I was wrong.

Squeezing one eye open, still posing in my rockstar stance, I spot the reflection a hysterical JJ hunched over on himself, phone in hand as he runs the other through his hair, “Pope was right, you can’t sing, or dance,” he wheezes, wiping away the streaks running down his red cheeks.

Sighing, I place the deodorant back in its place, turning to face the boy,  my eyes follow him as he types away, nose buried in his phone, 'So much for my big break.’ Flicking off the record, I hear the sound of my singing protruding from JJ’s phone, the boy still laughing at what he had just witnessed.

“You better not show that to anyone,” I threat, holding eye contact with him and he nods, “Don’t worry May, this is for my eyes only,” he sniggers waving his phone around soon shoving it into the back pocket of his shorts.

“Why are you here anyway?” I question watching JJ kick his feet up on the couch, arms crossed leisurely behind his head.  He nods in the direction of his disregard bag that he dumped in the middle of the room, “Well, as you can see, I packed a bag and-”

“And now you’re in my house… why?” I interrupt still failing to see the logic behind him being here. He was here this morning and he was back already?

“Storm Aggies hitting tonight and I know how much you hate storms so, naturally here I am” he excuses, “To protect you,” he explains but I just stayed focussed on the boy with raised eyebrows.

Eventually getting tired of his own excuses, JJ sits up, legs in a basket, picking at the rings on his fingers, “My dad’s been on a three-day bender,” he admits and trails off, “I just don’t want to deal with him right now.”

’Welp, now I feel like an asshole.’

Of course, I know about JJ’s home life and all the terrible shit his dad, if you could even call him that, puts him through. I realised pretty early on in our friendship when he showed up at the Château one day with a shiner. When my dad opened the door he was instantly alarmed at the spurt of colour invading the young boy’s face, but JJ being JJ just brushed it off and said he fell.

My dad wasn’t stupid and had his speculations about JJ’s father, often seeing the drunk man stumbling around the marsh, but he didn’t want to question the boy as he had no idea what he goes through behind closed doors.

That night when JJ went home, dad told both John B and I that we should never go to JJ’s house on our own, but never actually telling us the reason why. As you can probably guess, I didn’t listen to my dad’s wishes, and what I learned that day changed the way I saw JJ.

It was weird. I had never gone this long without seeing the boisterous blonde.

Last week JJ promised me that he would take me to see his dad’s boat. ‘The Phantom’, he called it. After recently seeing how interested I had gotten into boats and ships he wanted to show me his dad’s most prized possession.

So, there I was, sitting at the curb outside my house, two ice-cold ice pops in hand, a strawberry one for me and an orange one for JJ, waiting patiently for the boy in question.

My tongue and lips were tinted pink as my wonderous eyes watched the passing cars and letting out the occasional 'awe’ when dogs strutted past.

'Where is he? His ice pop’s melting,’ I thought as the cold condensation ran down my hands, evaporating as soon as the drips hit the burning tarmac.

'He wouldn’t ditch me, would he?’ I instantly shook away my doubts, 'JJ would never do that, don’t be stupid Mason.’

Sparing a glance over my shoulder I saw dad and John B getting ready to head to the marsh in hopes of catching some drum. When I saw the boat head out into the water, I brushed myself off and ran in the direction of JJ’s house.

Now, I knew that my dad told me never to go there, but I wasn’t planning on chapping his door, I would just hopefully meet him halfway. Maybe he was late?

JJ’s house wasn’t far from mine, I was practically a straight road. Something you’ll notice about the cut is the further you venture in the more, how should I put it, Pogue-like it gets, and JJ’s house was no exception to this.

Having not seen a glimpse of his blonde locks, I wandered down the dirt drive aside of the house.

That’s when I heard it.

Whilst stepping through the long grass, dodging the scattered litter, broken beer bottles, and petrol canisters. I paused. Too scared to move.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?” I heard a gravelling voice slur, I assumed it was his dad. As skillfully as possible, I tiptoed to the wall of the house, leaning over slightly to peer in through the screened porch.

I don’t know who I saw that day but, it wasn’t my JJ.

My JJ had this aura of mischief around him. My JJ had boisterously messy hair and wild eyes sparkling with strength. My JJ was my knight in shining armour, but the boy I was looking at was… broken. An empty shell. Not at all JJ.

“Out,” was all he said. That’s all he said.

What I saw that day stayed with me forever. I couldn’t watch it. The sight of JJ being tackled to the ground by his dad caused me to gasp, ducking back against the wall, trembling fingers over my mouth as all I could do was listen with numb ears.

I can’t remember how long it went on for, the cries and pleas seemed to play on repeat. The slamming of a car door and the kickback of dirt hitting my shins brung me back to that sad reality. Watching the car speed off with damp eyes, I wobbled my way around the house.

“JJ,” I whispered trying not to frighten the boy, but ultimately doing so when the screen door let out an ear pinching screak.

Once lying on his back, but now he stood defensively before me, eyes wide, “May? What,-” he chocked, using the back of his hand in an attempt to wipe away the blood that crept its way onto his white teeth, “what are you doing here?”

He attempted to shield his face from my wavering eyes, but I still saw. I saw his swollen lip. I saw his bloodshot eyes. I saw the handprints around his neck.

I saw him.

“We were supposed to hang out today,” I reminded him, but instantly shook my head and took a step closer to him as he took one back, bumping into the cabinet causing a cluster of empty beer bottles to smash against the floor.

Crouching down, mumbling something like 'his dads going to kill him,’ he attempts to pick up the shards of glass, hissing as they stuck to his fingers.

Still timid with my actions, I spoke up, “Go grab a first aid kit,” as I looked around the messy living room for a safe way to clean the glass, “I’ve got it,” but the boy just cried.

In front of the broken glass sat a more broken boy, head buried in his hands, knees up to his chest that heaved with panic. It hurt to see JJ like this. It was like seeing what happens behind the curtain and it frankly terrified me. The thought that this had been happening to my best friend and I had no idea.

I was so used to JJ being there for me that I didn’t stop to think 'Who was there for him?’ And that makes me a terrible friend.

I ignored the screaming of the old floorboards under my weight. I ignored the feeling of the glass digging into my knees. I ignored, despite how difficult it was, the guilt that ached my heart.

I just hugged him.

My JJ.

From that day forward I promised myself one thing: that I would never be innocently ignorant of what is going on around me.

Life isn’t always sunshine and daffodils, with peaceful doves and poetic words. Life can be cruel and unfair for a variety of reasons, majority none of our own, and that’s where friends come in. All you have to do is show them that sometimes the grass is greener on the other side and sometimes it isn’t, but that’s okay because as long as you’re there for them, the tiniest shed of light can grow a flower.  

“You’re gonna have to start paying rent dude,” I joke in hopes of lifting his spirit and it partly works as the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, “But hey, you’re always welcome here, alright?”

JJ knows that I would never turn him away, but sometimes he just needs that little bit of reassurance. No matter what, our door is always open, for anyone really, who might need a break from their life because I can guarantee that once they see the shitshow that is my life, they’ll realise that they’re not alone.

Holding eye contact with me, he nods sheepishly, “I know,” causing bliss to erupt in the pit of my stomach.

But shy JJ never lasts very long. That smirk that I know all too well tells me that I’m in for a ride tonight, “Besides, with this fresh, juicy bait that I have on you now, you’d never let me leave.”

There he is, that’s the JJ I know and love.

“You might single-handedly be the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” I just poured a bit of my heart out to this boy and what does he do? He laughs in my face, but I can’t help but giggle at the sight of his eyes popping out at my sudden confession, “Might!? There’s someone else!?”

The night that Storm Agatha hit the Outer Banks was filled with nothing but playful banter, the chugging of many beers, and a friendly, not so friendly, game of Go-Fish.

Whether it was intensional or not, JJ made me forget all about the whirling winds that subtly shook the Château. Instead fogging my mind with his failed attempts to try and cheat himself a win.

I could deny it until the cows come home, but there’s no point.

JJ is my knight in shining armour.

He’s my JJ.

But, I’ll never tell him that.

Chapter One: FIN!

Oft, two flashbacks in one, sounds goos to me. There will be a lot of these throughout this story. I feel as though it helps me establish Mason’s current relationships with those around her, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.

What did you think?

I didn’t mean to hit you with fluff, angst, and then fluff again, but I’m proud of this chapter, even if its just the very beginning and we still have a lot to go through so, saddle up troops.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Also, if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx​

#outer banks #outer banks imagines #outer banks series #outer banks au #obx #john b routledge #John B imagines #jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #Kiara Carrera #Kiara Carrera imagines #pope heyward #pope Heyward imagines #Sarah cameron #Sarah Cameron imagines #rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron imagines #topper #topper imagines #fluff #fanfic #adventure #epiphany series #chapter one #john b x reader #jj maybank x reader #kiara carrera x reader #pope Heyward x reader #Sarah Cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader

[bloodfreakatstanforddotedu]

i just think that sam uses it/its pronouns (and he and they but that’s common enough that i don’t need to explain) cause like. okay. so sam’s a kid and doesn’t remember his mom and no one will talk to him about her. and actually, it seems like there’s a lot of things no one will talk to him about, but there’s something wrong, always, for as long as he can remember, with how his dad acts with him. it’s not like how he acts with dean and part of that is cause sam is younger, sam knows that, but that’s not all. and then, oh, one christmas he finds out the thing (one of the things) his family hasn’t been telling him is that monsters are real and his family hunts them. but even now that he knows the big secret he’s still out of place, and he's always at odds with his shit dad and his brother (who he loves, he does, and who loves him too, but god he doesn’t fucking understand sam either), so at age eighteen he goes to college like, you know, a normal fucking kid. after all, the only reason he couldn’t be a normal kid before was because his family was crazy, right? (not right, but he doesn’t know that yet). and years go by. now, at age 22, after finally getting the normal fucking life that he’s wanted ever since he’d been aware that it was a thing that was remotely possible for him, after getting a girlfriend that could (that hopefully would, if she’d take them) become a wife, after doing everything right in the normal view of the world, sam develops psychic powers. and they don’t even realize that’s what’s happening until it’s too late and they lose everything (which is excusable for anyone else but not them, they should know better, they know psychics exist and they should’ve been smarter, more careful, but bad things happen when sam runs from their family and their fate, it would seem). but at least before he lost everything he got something else back: his brother. so it’s the two brothers (and, well, sam figured out at some point when they were away from their incredibly crushing family that maybe “man” wasn’t fully accurate to their experience but “brothers” was the only thing that could describe the feeling of sitting in the front seat of the impala with dean listening to his dumb shitty old music that sam couldn’t help but love at least a little bit because it was still dean’s) back on the road and sam is just getting more dreams and they’re awful and violent and sometimes he can’t even react to them quick enough to help the people he’s seeing die in the night. so what’s even the point of these powers? what’s the point of his fucking brain giving him these awful visions? and then, holy shit, wait, this person has psychic powers too, which means maybe there’s more people like sam, people whose mothers died on their fucking ceilings as babies and have powers and deserve help. so maybe sam’s not so alone, right? and then they find out, oh, hey, their dad has always known what was going on, at least a bit, and he also thinks that dean might have to kill them because of it. because they might turn bad because of whatever is going on with them, despite their best fucking efforts it just might not be enough and they might be inherently evil. and they try not to be, right? and now they’re looking at the monsters they’re hunting with their brother and wondering “what made you like this, did you have to be like this, did you have a choice or were you born into this, made this against your will?” and sam and dean are still calling the monsters things, its, still wind up killing them even as sam sees himself in them. so what is sam, then? and it gets worse. like, sam sees the death of/actually kills basically everyone who is or ever was like him. and they find out they were fed demon blood as a baby and it changed something in them so they don’t even know what they really are, like they’re not just a normal psychic human they’re something so different from that, and there’s no longer anyone else in the world like them. 

like it.

so it knows it’s a monster and it knows that Sam, the version that existed before all this, the one that was just a normal person with friends and who tried their best and even further back was just a kid trying to make it through school and life and finding the small bits of joy and normalcy in among all the muck, is someone else. or at least, knows that that Sam was still living a lie, living in ignorance of the monstrosity that it is and really always has been. and now it may not really know what it is genetically but it does know “monster” and “freak” and it doesn’t want to be that but like. fuck. listen. if it’s going to have powers and if it’s going to not be human, it might as well do something with that. it might as well keep drinking the thing that made it inhuman in the first place because the damage is already done, and in doing this it can try to fix something. and it’s trying so hard and it knows its life and its body have always been tools for others so you know what? now it turns its body into a tool for itself. but that still doesn’t make the body belong to sam, you know? the body is azazel’s, or, eventually, it’s lucifer’s, and sam can use it to its advantage too but that doesn’t make the body sam’s. and there’s just such a disconnect between how sam experiences itself/its thoughts/its feelings and how sam views itself and how others view sam. none of them are the same. so how do you keep thinking of yourself as a he, a them, a person when you’re literally the only thing on earth like you anymore, and you’re a combination of so many different things and you’re destined to give up your body for so many different things? how can you call yourself a human after all that? sam can’t, i don’t think

#sam winchester #this may not all be factually accurate timeline wise lmao #also i'm only JUST getting into soulless sam but i imagine that would contribute to this i just don't know how yet #at some point i'll write a better version of this/a fic relating to this that goes more into the gender aspects of this #and also cause i want to write a time where this becomes a reclamation for sam instead of a brand #BUT for now take this messy explanation of my thoughts and why that is my header lol

[the-stoned-priestess]

When is it okay to ask a psychic?

The following is of a matter of opinion. Please know this is not information of absolute certainty however something I personally witnessed...

A psychics job is to act as a living guide. We are not party favors or human Magic 8 Balls. Our sole purpose is to provide POSSIBLE OUTCOMES regarding to your most important issues. If you follow our advice ( and you should) it’s is greater possible that you will receive the outcome as prophesied. If your desired outcome isn’t reached, it is at the fault of the querant. Not the psychic.

How can this be?

The universe is never set in stone. It relies on YOUR part. It’s like making a wish. You cant just sit out and wait for your wish to come to being and hope some tall dark and handsome is going to ring your doorbell or your promotion will come without effort! You have to take action and chances you probably never would have taken! Without action there is no future. You have to know your role as the responsible key player in your destiny. You have to follow the guidance you have been given with your heart AND your head. You wont have eyes to see if you lose your head and you will not succeed in seeing your desired outcome.

DO NOT shop around for psychics.

What I mean is, don’t ask the same question to different psychics in hopes of getting to heard what you want to hear. You will be disappointed and the universe WILL respond in kind by giving you exactly what you don’t want. Law of attraction dictates, Like Attracts Like. If you spend so much time worrying about your desired outcome and then enforce desperation, it is holding a mindset of LACK and if like attracts like, you will continue to see exactly that. Again, it’s not the psychics job to change your attitude. 

Asking around using the same energy you put out can bring fourth confusing information. One psychic might say this and that but another might say something different or roughly the same. Putting out the unnecessary need to be sure is lack of faith. You have the accept the information given the first time or you will risk putting lack of faith (like lack of faith in psychics because you didn’t follow the advice) out there again for the law of attraction to present to you more reason to lack faith. What you seek, you find. Without faith, there is no future. Lack of faith is lack of esteem. Lack of esteem is lack of love. Without love, you know the deal.

What is selfish followship?

Say for example you want to attract a lover but you have to work on yourself before you can be ready for such a relationship. What a lot of people tend to do is practice what the psychic or spiritualist suggests as advice, but instead of following the advice for themselves in a healthy way, they do so with the only intent to “attract” love. This isn't how it works. Your self improvement is a serious matter. You change because you really want to and it doesn’t stop when you have gotten your soul mate/twin flame. The work you do for yourself, is so that you can give the same love you have for yourself back to your lover. An empty cup cannot and will not fill another. This is how relationships fall apart. Again, not at the fault of the psychic. You know that saying:

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink!

Doing your own inner work with the sole purpose to evolve spiritually is whats important. Going at it selfishly to stop because you got your lover or feel you don’t see the benefit means, you are selfish and therefore do not posses the right attitude to proceed and run the risk of failure. When we don’t learn from our mistakes, we repeat the process until we get it right. Think back to a time in your life when insanity played a part where you kept choosing the same situation or people in your life expecting a different result. 

Then the universe is like:

The sooner you find the pattern, the likely-hood you will get your desired outcome. But in combined to taking the advice an intuitive gives you, changes are even greater and who knows, could be better than expected.

Asking a psychic multiple questions is bad ju-ju too.

As a psychic, when I first started out, the first thing I did was go to my cards for every little thing. I’m not perfect. What I learned is that it’s no different than cheating on a test or depending on a therapist to tell you what to wear on a date. Petty things like that is unhealthy and should be recognized. Some psychics will happily take advantage of the client who also want to take advantage of the “Human Magic 8 Ball” who is charging for the help. Is it a win-win? Not exactly.... I have learned this is wrong. You have to know when to stop because it further hurts your spiritual progress on BOTH the psychic and client. I strongly feel taking money off other’s like that is bad ju-ju in return. Probably 10x on the psychic that used your weakness for financial gain. Especially if there is financial gain. A psychic should use ethics and common sense when presented with a person this way, it’s not so they can take advantage. In itself it’s a test on their ethics as well. Hopefully they learn how to cut someone off. It’s hard because I want to help but we psychics need to know when it’s helpful to a client. 

Going to a psychic for everything isn’t helpful. It’s damaging your power and self-esteem. You don’t need to cheat on the tests of your human existence on earth. Life is full of tests, tricks, twists and turns. Embrace these things! You have everything you need right there with you. Yes, I understand anxiety. But that is a problem YOU have to solve on your own without someone constantly holding your hand. If you can’t do that, you are sure to miss out on what is rightfully yours and it’s not at the fault of the psychic.

So WHEN is it okay to ask a psychic?

Like seeing a therapist, if you need guidance or to gain insight on your spiritual development, once a week is good --so that you can take a week or however long to process the information and make moves. I started once a week and eventually it fizzled down to just a few times a year on the spiritual path. But these days I will do a reading when there is spiritual information my guides need me to know that can’t be heard at the time for whatever reason. I RARELY seek guidance about my future because I don’t like knowing too much. So I wont go out of my way to cheat through life like that. It still freaks me out when a vision comes to life. You don’t want that. TRUST me! 

Not every session has to be about future love, career, relationships or finances. Need not worry about the future. It’s much better to seek help on what is happening NOW in the present. What ever future outcomes you get, always take with a grain of salt. Focus on the here and now. What is it you can do NOW. I suggest using a psychic to help you understand how and why of a situation. To gain insight on whats currently happening and what you need to change. That’s it! The possible outcome is just details. The how and why are KEYS to get you to your possible outcome! Use the keys to open the door. If you don’t use the keys, you will forever be stuck outside.

To put bluntly: 

If you put so much focus on a possible outcome, without regard to advice or spiritual work you need to do, you don’t need a psychic, you need to seek professional help. Anxiety is a serious problem. Without talking to a trusted friend or a licensed therapist, you can’t expect to see your possible outcome! Anxiety goes hand in hand with depression and people suffering should not seek advice from a psychic. If you see a therapist and hire or acquire the aid of a psychic use both to help you along your journey. But again see a psychic to help with the here and now as you would with a therapist. Future details don’t matter until you can live in the present. 

I know plenty who see a shamen, a therapist and psychiatrist. One of them is my brother and he’s made such great progress on his spiritual journey that I’m proud. He’s learned to do tarot reading and pendulum dowsing as well and respects the process by using these tools to help evolve on his unique journey. 

There are exception to every rule however, I wouldn’t focus on that in this case because it’s not helpful to anyone. 

TL;DR

You don’t need to see a psychic for every matter of your life and you don’t need to put so much focus on your desired outcome. Each possible outcome is dependent on your involvement. Lack of faith by asking numerous psychics, lack of patience by asking the same questions, and poor spiritual attitude doesn’t give you what you want and deserve. We psychics cannot make things happen. We provide the tools and it’s up to you to use them. Know when to stop seeking intuitive advice and learn how to cope with anxiety in healthy ways. Know you are powerful in your own way. You are deserving of happiness and... 

...if you truely believe it, work for it, you can and will achieve it.

Thank you for reading.

#ask a psychic #ethical psychics #psychics of tumblr #mediums #psychics #advice #tarot readings #tarot cards #keen #oranum

[aurantia-ignis]

The Alola Pokemon League is coming to an end in the anime, with Ash vs Gladion in the finals. I’ve translated some snippets of the interviews that Okamoto Nobuhiko (voice actor of Gladion) did.

—

Okamoto’s first encounter with Pokemon was Green, which he bought when he was a second year student in elementary school. At that time, his home was very strict with the rule of ‘Only one hour of gaming per week.' When his friends played popular RPGs, they would clear the story before he even got past the first stage. When Pokemon Red/Green were released, he was playing it behind his parents’ back. He was to be in bed by 9pm, but he would hide under his futon with a light and play until midnight.

During that period, Pokemon was highly popular even in school, and he would battle his friends. In his first battle, Okamoto’s highest levelled Pokemon was a Nidoking at Lv. 80, but his opponent had six Lv. 100 Mewtwos. He was roundly defeated, but despite feeling upset about the loss he also developed a strong resolution to win.

Interviewer: “The bitterness of defeat became a springboard for you.”

Okamoto: “Yes. Somehow I really wanted to defeat the opponent’s Mewtwos without using Mewtwo, so I went through a lot of trial and error. First I tried Hypno, who could withstand Mewtwo’s Psychic, and used a combination of Hypnosis and Dream Eater, but the opponent quickly countered that with Substitute.”

Interviewer: “Huh? Weren’t you in elementary school?! That sounds rather like some high level strategising. (laughs)”

Okamoto: “I think we both took it pretty seriously (laughs). The next thing I tried was to use Chansey with Minimize. It doesn’t matter how powerful the attack is if it can’t hit.”

Despite his efforts, he never managed to defeat the Mewtwo team. Both he and his opponent were crazy about the game at that age. In middle school, he still played Pokemon, but he didn’t really continue with competitive battle after clearing them. When he entered university, his passion for Pokemon battles returned again with Diamond and Pearl.

During that time, Okamoto was spending so much time raising Pokemon that he sometimes forgot to eat or sleep. He was pretty serious about competitive battling then, creating teams around Garchomp.

When XY came out with Mega Evolution, he often used Mega Kangaskhan, armed with Power-Up Punch.

Interviewer: “In the anime, Ilima also used a Mega Kangaskhan with Power-Up Punch.”

Okamoto: “Yes! As expected of Ilima, he knows what’s up (laughs)“

Interviewer: “It’s amazing how Guzma’s Scizor managed to take those blows (laughs)“

Okamoto: “Guzma’s strategies worked out well for him. It’s not possible in the game, but in the anime, trainers can call out to warn their Pokemon to dodge attacks.”

Interviewer: “’DODGE IT!’ That's the dream of every Pokemon Trainer's in this world…”

Okamoto first started watching the Pokemon anime every week in elementary school as well. The SunMoon anime has a peaceful, slice-of-life feel, but he remembers many touching, tear inducing episodes in the original anime. He was especially touched by the scene where Ash was using his body to protect Pikachu from the Spearow. Pikachu hadn’t wanted to listen to him before, but that was the turning point where their bonds began to grow. Other memorable episodes include Bye Bye Butterfree.

When his manager said that he had an upcoming job in Pokemon as the heroine’s brother, he thought “Isn’t that Gladion? Awesome!!” 

Interviewer: ”How did you feel when you were casted as Gladion in the anime you love?”

Okamoto: “I was just really happy. When I said the line ‘Ash!’, it really felt like I was having a conversation with the Ash I watched in my childhood, and my heart was shaking.”

“My character Gladion is a cool character. The process of recording him really dug deep into the question of ‘Why is he cool?'"

"Gladion is a trainer who analyzes battles in real-time. 'If they use that move, I'll counter with this move'. He's always thinking. That's why he doesn't speak much, and watches the battles calmly, rather than getting heated. That's why he's cool.”

With Lillie and Lusamine, he shows a softer side, more of him as a young boy, because they are his family. The cool side of him retreats when he's with them. When he battles Ash, since he's older, he behaves more like an older brother teaching a younger junior.

Interviewer: “Teaching Ash sounds like it’d be rather stressful (laughs)“

Okamoto: "Yes, I almost wished to erase Okamoto Nobuhiko's memory. In my mind, Ash is this amazing skilled trainer who has gained lots of experience. But in the SunMoon anime, Ash is still young, and has less battle experience than Gladion."

Interviewer: ”Did you also have difficulties playing Gladion because there was an established impression of Game Gladion in Okamoto memory?”

Okamoto: “It was hard (laughs). I had to think of it as a different world from the game. Game Gladion was in Team Skull, but in the anime he wasn’t, and there were various other small differences. I managed to make that shift smoothly.

“His relationships with his family are quite different too. Game Lusamine had a terrifying side, while in the anime, she's a kind mother. Lillie, too, was slightly different. Though this may be different depending on person, I could sense a bit more pushiness in Game Lillie. When I was playing through the story, I suddenly found myself fascinated by Lillie. In the anime, however, I never really felt that pushiness. Though perhaps that’s due to Shindo Kei (CV for Lillie).”

Interviewer: "Lillie's speech when she performs Z-moves are totally influenced by Gladion…”

Okamoto: “She became an edgelord too (laughs). Lillie, you too!? I laughed without thinking.”

Interviewer: “How would you fight Ash if you were using Gladion’s Pokemon?“

Okamoto: "He'd definitely use Pikachu, so I'd have Silvally hold the Ground memory. I’d start with sending Umbreon out and observe how he goes. Umbreon would hold Lum Berry, moveset would perhaps be Curse/Payback/Hypnosis/Quick Attack or something. Depending on what Ash leads with, it could work. But Ash's Melmetal has extremely high defense, so I wonder if I can beat that… There are no Pokemons with really high Sp.Att in Gladion's team, so defeating Melmetal might be difficult.”

Interviewer: “That’s more from a game POV, how do you think it will go from an anime POV?"

Okamoto: "I believe the key would lie in how Zoroark uses his Illusion. It will break if he gets hit by an opponent's move, so I’d use the DODGE IT quite liberally (laughs). Maybe he could turn into Umbreon and use Dark Pulse, to continue fooling the opponent.”

Okamoto: ”Anime Silvally can change memory mid battle, so he can switch to whatever type he wants. Theoretically that makes him the strongest. But Ash’s Lycanroc is probably going to be a tough battle. He has Counter. Moves in the game that would KO can be survived in the anime with effort, so we'd have to watch out for the Counter after that.“

(Note: I used the words ‘edgey’ ‘edgelord’ in place of chuunibyou, for want of a better word. Gladion is described in the artbook as having chuunibyou traits (Source: https://www.animatetimes.com/news/details.php?id=1567911392)

---

Okamoto: “Gladion is a composed character, so whenever I put in a bit more energy, I’d be advised ‘That’s too desperate. At this point, it would feel too much like he’s on the losing side.’ I struggled over how to play Gladion as a cool character without losing that intensity.”

“Although I’ve played other cool characters, the approach to playing Gladion is different. He’s not exactly just cool; instead, he’s rather passionate. In spite of his heated passion, he analyses based on observing the Pokemon’s moves, so I thought ‘It’d be good if he could appear cool.’ (….)

“Gladion says things like “Rocks drenched in the Z aura of the azure moon” “Demonic eye of the moon! Shine upon the labyrinth of darkness!” and other edge-y lines, but I was tasked to voice them in a way where those are the ways he cheers on his Pokemon. It’s kind of like his routine towards victory. Other characters don’t do speeches like that, but his sister Lillie does the same, so perhaps it’s in the blood. (laughs).”

“There was a scene where Guzma’s partner Golisopod, returned to his pokeball after being damaged by Pikachu. At the recording studio, people were asking ‘Why did he go back into the ball?’, and I really wanted to tell them that ‘That’s Golispod’s ability, Emergency Exit.’”

“With regards to Golisopod, the staff did actually give an explanation. What surprised me was that they told me “The only one who’s ever been able to talk about the Pokemon games like this at the recording studio is Okamoto-san.” People who have been in touch with Pokemon since a young age (like me) are called ‘Pokemon natives’ by the staff.”

(Source: https://news.mixi.jp/view_news.pl?id=5780551&media_id=54&from=twitter&share_from=view_news)

#pokemon sun and moon #anipoke #pokeani #gladion #okamoto nobuhiko #pokemon translations

[seeaddywrite]

we’re all lonely together

A/N:  for the Crashfest exchange at @roswellprompts, I got @queersirius‘s prompt of ‘anything revolving around the liz/maria/alex friendship. I ... may have gone a bit overboard in my excitement. this fic has been a true labor of love (emphasis on the labor because good gracious, the timeline for this show is NOT EASY TO FOLLOW) but I’m excited to share it. Millie, I hope it’s at least a little like what you wanted, & that you enjoy! You deserve all sorts of wonderful things for the fabulous contributions you make to this fandom -- your rec list & your fics are things that we all look forward to. 

as usual, thanks to @soberqueerinthewild for being a second pair of eyes, putting up with my whining when i got lost in the timeline & my own head. additional thanks to @hannah-writes for letting me talk out some of my frustration & reminding me that i have, actually, finished a fic before, haha. 

September, 1997: 

Alex’s family moves to Roswell, New Mexico -- or back to Roswell, as his father is so fond of repeating, because that’s where the Manes men belong -- when he’s seven and going into the third grade. He’s lived here before, even in the same house, but nothing feels the same without his mom. There’s no home without her, and despite the boys all being packed in, two to a room, the place feels empty. And it is, at least of all the things that matter. There’s no affection anymore, except maybe when Harlan gets leave and comes home to see his brothers. Jesse Manes spends most of his time away from the house, usually with Jim Valenti or another man who whispers with him in corners and stops talking quickly when Alex walks into the room. It’s weird, but Alex is seven, and all he cares about is that his mom is gone, and he misses her. 

School has already been in session for three weeks, and he hates being the new kid. He hates the way the other students all stare at him, especially in these small towns, and even avoids Kyle Valenti’s hopeful smile when he walks in. They were friends, once, before the Manes’ left Roswell for Jesse’s last station, and Sheriff Valenti’s made it clear that his son is happy to have Alex back. But Alex isn’t the same kid anymore, even at seven.  In the short three years he’s been getting a public education, he has been to no less than five different schools. He’s given up trying to make friends, because what good is it when he’s just going to be somewhere else in a few months -- and even if he doesn’t, what’s to stop the other person from leaving? If his own mom could take off without telling anyone, anyone can, and Alex isn’t going to give them the chance. So he doesn’t smile, doesn’t answer any of the questions from the other kids about what it’s like to have a dad in the military, and does the work that’s put in front of him when the teacher insists. 

The first two weeks are the worst. Alex ignores his classmates and his teacher, when he can get away with it, and glares at anyone who tries to penetrate the personal space boundaries he’s careful to cultivate. He mumbles answers to his brother Flint when he asks how school is going, and stands, spine rigid, while his father screams at him about responsibility, maturity, and his legacy when Alex kicks a boy on the playground for calling him a name and the principal calls home. Some part of him knows he should be ashamed of himself, but at least his father is looking at him while he’s yelling -- and any attention is the good kind, when his mom’s not around and he’s so lonely he wants to cry with the weight of it. He’s tired of being the easy-going youngest brother, he’s tired of moving and losing his friends, and he wants his mom back. How’s he supposed to just pretend everything’s fine when she’s not there? 

Jesse Manes doesn’t see the sadness Alex is hiding, and if his brothers do, they don’t make any effort to help. Alex knows they’re all missing their mother in their own ways, but even so, he wishes just one of them would actually say something -- even just her name. He’s the only one who does, probably because he’s the only one who hasn’t yet seen what his father is capable of. That’s how he learns, though. He calls for her at night, in tears, and his father’s only response is to backhand him. 

It’s two days later, when Alex is sitting alone on the playground under the jungle gym, that he meets Maria DeLuca for the first time. He’s expecting yet another question about living overseas, or what it’s like to have a dad who’s a war hero, but Maria isn’t anything like what he’d come to expect from the kids in his class. Instead, she plops down next to him, her bright pink pants getting covered in dirt and woodchips from the playground, and points up at the sky. “Did you know that those fluffy clouds are called cumulus clouds?” she asks, squinting against the sunlight. “I think that’s stupid, because they look like marshmallows, but Mr. Fintz keeps taking points off of my science tests when I write that they’re marshmallow clouds.” 

Alex stares at the girl for a long moment, but his arms unfold from across his chest, and he tips his head back to look up at the clouds in question. She’s right -- they do sort of look like marshmallows, now that he’s thinking about it. “I don’t think science is supposed to make sense,” he says finally, because the girl doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere, and being mean to her when she’s only being nice would make him feel bad. “Otherwise, why would Ms. Simmons do that stupid dance to teach the water cycle?” 

The girl laughs at that, and nods her agreement. It makes the braids on top of her head rattle, the tiny, multi-colored barrettes at the end of each one striking each other. “I’m Maria DeLuca,” she tells him proudly, her chin raised a little, like she’s expecting a smart comment about her name. Something deep inside of Alex recognizes a kindred spirit -- Maria is used to being the outsider, used to people teasing her or instantly recognizing her family name, just like him. 

So Alex just nods, and even smiles a little. “I’m Alex,” he tells her, and it feels strange, to be nice to someone after so long of acting belligerently at school, but the grin on Maria’s face makes it easier. 

“I already know who you are, Alex Manes,” she says, though he hasn’t said a word about his last name, and her knowledge takes him a little by surprise. “And no, no one told me. I’m a psychic. I just know things, sometimes.” Again, there’s that slight lift of her chin, a hint of challenge gleaming in her dark eyes, and Alex swallows the laugh that had been threatening at her proclamation.

“You just … know things,” he repeats slowly, trying not to sound too skeptical. Alex likes to read about people with psychic powers, like Professor X in his favorite Marvel comics, but he also knows that real people can’t read minds, and Maria is as real as he is. “Like my name?” 

Maria nods seriously. “Yeah. And that you’re sad, and you need a friend who you can’t scare off.” 

Alex isn’t sure if this girl is making fun of him or not. It’s hard to tell, when she’s so smiley and nice, but the things she’s saying don’t make any sense. “I’m not sad,” he insists too quickly, his gaze darting to the other students playing just a few feet away who might overhear. “I’m not!”

“Sitting by you makes me sad,” Maria tells him quietly, and takes his hand before Alex can even think of pulling away. It’s the first time someone’s touched him with good intentions in a long time, and he can’t help but stare down at that hand in his, trying to figure out why this girl is so determined to talk to him. She’s not even in his class, she doesn’t really know him -- but she’s right, about the way he feels and that he’s lonely, and could use a friend. He’s been thinking that way for a couple of days now, but he’s done enough damage with his classmates that none of them are options.  Alex doesn’t believe her psychic story; maybe she heard someone talk about his mom leaving? Or maybe she knows that he’s sad because she feels the same way? But either way, Alex is pretty sure he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings enough for her to give up on him. 

“My mom left,” he tells her in a hushed voice, still looking at their entangled hands. “And I miss her.” 

The rest, about his brothers and his father, and all of the new schools, will come out later -- it’s impossible to hide for the sort of friend that Maria becomes, the friend that’s never content until she knows of his hurts and does her best to help heal them. Alex isn’t psychic. He doesn’t know, yet, that Maria will become the first person after his mother who feels like home, and he doesn’t realize that letting Maria DeLuca into his life means that he will never face another day of school without an unwavering ally at his side. 

Right then, all Alex knows is that holding Maria’s hand makes him feel a lot less alone.

November, 2006: 

Liz Ortecho explodes into Alex’s life like an earthquake, shaking the foundations of his rapidly shrinking world in the best way possible. Also like an earthquake, it’s almost inevitable; they’ve circled each other for years, sharing friends and classes but never quite connecting — until one day, after the news that Alex isn’t into girls has spread around the school like wildfire, Maria DeLuca grabs Alex’s wrist and drags him to a table in the cafeteria where the Ortecho sisters are waiting.  She’s the only friend that hadn’t turned into a tormentor that year, aside from a few who are more acquaintances than anything, and Alex is ashamed to admit that he’s been clinging to her as his world shifts around him. 

There’s no difference in the way Maria treats him, though. They bitch about classes and teachers together and spend their study halls outside in the grass, listening to music on their MP3 players and taking turns introducing each other to new songs. Maria is his staunchest defender until Alex gets his feet under him and starts fighting back against the jocks who seem determined to make his life hell, and Maria’s also the one who buys him his first eyeliner pencil. Sometimes, she drags him to her house after school and they blast My Chemical Romance at top volume and eat junk food until her mom comes home, and then they eat at the table like Alex imagines a real family does. So really, the least Alex can do is eat lunch with Maria’s other friends, who she’s definitely been neglecting in his favor, lately. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know how to take Rosa and her narrow-eyed glares, or Liz and her blunt honesty and wide smiles. 

As they approach, Rosa glances up from her lunch tray wearing her usual dark eyeliner and sneer, all but daring anyone else to sit down at the table, and Alex feels his own rebellious spirit rise at the challenge. But as soon as the older girl spots Maria, her face is totally transformed, a genuine, wide smile replacing the scowl in such a way that she’s barely recognizable. Alex blinks in surprise as Maria tugs at a lock of the older girl’s hair and slides onto the bench next to her. 

“Where you been, DeLuca?” Rosa asks, sliding something wrapped in a tortilla toward Maria on a napkin. “I should refuse to share my lunch with you until you ‘fess up to ditching me for a guy.” She looks pointedly at Alex, though he’s pretty sure there’s no actual malice in the expression. Still, his grip shifts awkwardly on the strap of his backpack, and he has to force himself not to snap something back defensively. It’s habit, at this point, to step on the people who are trying to do the same to him — but Maria wouldn’t have insisted they come over here if she thought they’d have a problem with him, and Alex isn’t so caught up in his own head that he can’t realize he’s not exactly giving anyone a fair chance, lately. 

Liz snorts, and elbows her sister. “Yeah, you’re so nice — I can’t imagine why she’d want to find different friends,” she quips, smiling sunnily up at Alex. “Ignore Rosa,” she tells him, nodding to the empty spot on the bench beside her. “She’s just jealous because you got Mama DeLuca’s ribs the other night while we had to fend for ourselves at home.” He’s never noticed how sunny Liz’s smile is, or how easy it is to return, but he does this time. 

“Fair,” Alex replies, lifting his chin. “Missing out on Mimi’s cooking is a pretty good reason to be pissed.” He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t have a witty retort or a sarcastic quip at the ready, but Liz just nods emphatically, like she hadn’t expected anything else. 

“Right? Papa’s a great cook, but we end up eating at the diner more often than anything else.” She shakes her head in distaste, and gestures at the seat next to her again, this time more firmly. “Maria says you’re into music, and I’m like, desperately in need of some new recommendations. Everything Rosa gives me is depressing.” 

“Ai! Ungrateful brat,” Rosa growls at her sister,  and tosses a wadded up napkin at her face. “It’s not my fault you’ve got shit taste in music. I’ve tried to educate you.” Liz makes a face and pitches the napkin back across the table, and Alex blinks at the affectionate teasing. He and his brothers certainly never interact like that -- but then again, he’s pretty sure his brothers share their father’s beliefs that Alex is shaming them all by existing.

“Alex, come on,” Maria prompts impatiently, even as she grabs the napkin out of midair before it strikes Liz’s forehead a second time. Rosa complains, but Maria is unaffected as she looks up at Alex and orders him to, “Sit down.”  She’s already pulling her paper-bag lunch from her backpack and laughing at Rosa’s muttered comments about the jackass in her Spanish class, clearly expecting Alex to join in. Maria’s been his closest friend for years, and maybe his only one since Kyle Valenti realized that being a bully gained him more popularity than being friends with ‘the gay kid,’ and he loves her — but Maria’s never felt awkward or uncomfortable in a social situation in her life. In her world, there’s no such thing as self-consciousness. She says what’s on her mind, plows into every situation with confidence and that little tilt of her head, and somehow comes out on top of everything. 

Alex has never been that lucky, but that day, when Liz Ortecho hands him one of Arturo Ortecho’s famous tamales and begins quizzing him on his knowledge of her favorite bands while Rosa interjects with disparaging comments about his choices and insists he try some of her recommendations, the shifting earth beneath his feet seems just a little steadier. He doesn’t understand it, and doesn’t try to, but Alex leaves the cafeteria that day certain that the tiny family he’s been building for himself has expanded by two.  

June, 2008: 

Alex climbs the stairs to the roof above the Crashdown slowly, unsure of the situation he’s about to enter. The text he got from Maria had been brief, ordering him to get there with no real explanation, but he can read between the lines pretty well, considering the circumstances. It’s been less than forty-eight hours since Maria called him, her voice breathy with suppressed sobs, and told him about the car accident and the fact that their tiny, patchwork family was down a founding member. He’s been to the Ortecho apartment twice, but Liz hadn’t wanted to see anyone -- in her usual fashion, she’d ignored her own feelings in favor of focusing on her father, on helping in the diner, in making funeral arrangements, and when asked, she’d insisted she was fine. Alex knows better, and so does Maria, but they’d let her get away with it. 

Tonight, though, feels different. 

The humid summer air breaks over his face as soon as Alex opens the door to the roof, and he has to stop for a moment as memories hit him at the sight of their familiar hang-out. Over there, under the sign, is where Rosa’d given him his first joint and laughed as he inhaled and promptly choked on the smoke. To his left, near the brick barrier at the edge of the rooftop, is where Maria had insisted he close his eyes and let her do his eyeliner, just to see what it would look like. They’d spent nights on the roof in sleeping bags when Alex didn’t want to go home, looking up at the stars and talking about anything and everything, from boys to disappointments to absent parents, and there’s a moment in which Alex isn’t sure that he can do this. He wants to be there for Liz, and for Maria, who’d loved Rosa like her own sister, but his own grief is heavy in his chest, and he doesn’t know if he can figure out how to hide it enough to support them 

He was stupid to have worried. As soon as he’s out in the open, Maria catches sight of him and drags him over to the cement blocks that hold the sign up where they’ve most often congregated. Liz is lying out on the top of the roof, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old Third Eye Blind t-shirt that he knows belonged to Rosa. She’s staring straight up at the sky, and doesn’t so much as look in Alex’s direction, even when he stops at her side to look down at her. She’s pale, and her eyes are red-rimmed, but overall she looks much the same as she ever has -- which seems wrong, somehow. The world is completely different without Rosa in it, they’re all different without her, and it seems like their appearances should reflect the monumental internal shift. But Liz, like Alex and Maria, looks the same as always. 

“Hi,” Liz says quietly, and pushes herself up into a sitting position. Alex flops down beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders without saying anything, pulling her into his chest for a proper hug before she can speak again. For a startled minute, she says nothing -- just freezes under the affection, and Alex nearly pulls back. Maria catches his eye over Liz’s shoulder, grief making her look older than the eighteen years she’d so recently celebrated, and shakes her head, encouraging him to hold on. She’s right, as usual -- it only takes another second for Liz to turn into him and hide her face, her fingers knotting in the thin cotton of his t-shirt. 

“Sorry for ignoring you when you came over, earlier,” she says to his chest. “I just -- I don’t --” Liz’s voice breaks, and she stops trying to explain in favor of swallowing down the sob Alex can hear rising in her throat.

His heart aches, and his own eyes burn as she finally gives into the inevitable. Tears soak through the fabric of Alex’s shirt, and small, quiet sobs shake Liz’s slender frame. Alex glances helplessly at Maria before bending and pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of Liz’s head, hugging her tightly all the while. “I understood,” he promises, and holds out an arm for Maria to join the hug on Liz’s other side. The other young woman comes easily, moisture glistening on her cheeks, and they keep Liz safely engulfed in the warmth of two people who love her, who miss Rosa nearly as much as she does. Alex knows that he wished for something like this, when his mom left, and he hopes that he can offer the kind of comfort to Liz that no one was there to give him back then. 

“No,” Maria says, long moments and an indeterminable amount of tears later. She sniffs and wipes away the thin lines of melted mascara on her cheeks before pulling away from the cocoon they’d formed around Liz. “This is not what Rosa would want from us, guys. This isn’t how she did things. When she was sad, she didn’t sit around and cry, and if she could see us now, she’d be telling us exactly how pathetic we are.” 

Alex readjusts his grip on Liz so they can both watch as Maria moves gracefully across the roof to the short, brick wall that frames the space. Before a question even forms in Alex’s mind, Maria bends down and pulls one of the bricks out of place with the growl of stone on stone. Liz huffs, and when Alex glances down, he sees that she’s smiling sadly as the hiding place is revealed. “You know what we did, the last time your mom took off, Liz? While you were with Kyle, pretending you were fine?” Maria pulls a baggy from the gap the loose brick left, and smirks as she waves it at them to show the two, poorly-rolled joints inside. 

“Of course you know where she kept the good stuff,” Liz says with a roll of overbright eyes, and pats Alex’s chest gently before pulling away to join Maria by the wall. “She never let me touch that, not unless it was a really special occasion. She said she didn’t want me to make her mistakes. That I was supposed to be better.” 

Her shoulders slump, a bit, and Alex takes that as his cue to join them and insinuate himself in the middle. He drops an arm over each of their shoulders as Maria fishes the joints from the baggy and lights them with a matchbook that had apparently also been stowed behind the loose brick. “Rosa and her hiding places,” Liz finishes with a bemused shake of her head, sadness creeping back into her voice. This time, it’s the sort of grief that’s almost fond, with the promise of one day being able to think of her sister without dissolving into tears or anger with her poor choices, and Alex is proud of Liz for moving forward, for taking that step even though he knows it hurts. 

“But if we’re trying to channel our inner Rosa, we need music, too,” Liz says, surprising both of her friends. She’s been silent for most of the last few days, aside from the sobs she’d fought so hard to stifle, but Alex is selfishly relieved she’s coming back to herself. There’s nothing more awful than a still and silent Liz Ortecho, not when she’s meant to be one of the most dynamic people in whatever room she enters. He wouldn’t recognize her without that inner fire that makes her so special, and seeing a bit of it sparkle in her eyes -- a little subdued, but definitely there -- makes it easier to believe that they’re all going to be okay. 

A half an hour later finds them all high, with the joint between Maria’s fingers burning low, potent smoke curling from the ends and rising up into the night. At some point, someone had crawled through Liz’s bedroom window and grabbed her boombox, and the Black Crowes were crooning Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby for the fourth or fifth time in a row, because, according to Liz, “I can’t cry during this song. I can’t. Rosa’d never forgive me if I ruined it like that.” 

So instead of crying, the three of them dance, hands thrown carelessly in the air and bodies twisting around, Liz’s hair flying around and smacking Alex in the face when he gets too close with his purposefully spastic movements. They’re all graceless with the influence of pot and the sudden lightness of spirit that comes with good music and good friends after escaping, if only temporarily, from beneath a cloud of grief. Alex knows that tomorrow, when they’re all dressed up in their funeral black, standing in front of Rosa’s closed casket, this will all be just a fond memory -- there will be more tears, more fighting, more horrible accusations tossed at the Ortechos by members of the town. They’ll be back to drowning in their grief, and Liz will return to raging against her sister for doing something as stupid as driving under the influence and leaving her alone in the world. 

And of course, Alex doesn’t realize yet that this will be the last time he gets to spend any real time with Liz, that he’s lost her almost as completely as he’s lost Rosa, thanks to alien interference and his own bad decisions -- but for that night, Alex allows himself to inhale from the joint in Maria’s hand and lets the music and his friends’ hysterically-tinged laughter carry him away from reality. 

March, 2017: 

It’s Maria who shows up in Germany after Alex is injured. 

He’s been better at keeping in touch with her than others from Roswell, but it’s still been at least four months since they’ve even exchanged a text. He saw her on his last, disastrous trip home to Roswell, but only for an hour before he couldn’t resist Michael Guerin’s unintentional siren’s call and wound up spending the next three days sweaty and sated in the single-bed of his trailer. In retrospect, there’s a good chance Alex wouldn’t have fucked everything up between them quite so spectacularly if he’d just stayed with Maria -- and maybe, he wouldn’t feel guilty now for neglecting their friendship, when she’d clearly dropped everything to fly halfway across the world to be with him when he needed a friend. Alex doubts he could be that forgiving in her position. 

But he should know better, Alex thinks. Maria DeLuca is a one-woman army and always has been, and she’s never given him a reason to doubt her before. She and her mother have been Alex’s family since his own began to realize he was never going to fall in line with them -- and no matter what previous experiences have taught Alex, no matter how many people abandon him or walk away, Maria always shows up when he needs her. 

Despite knowing all of this, it still catches Alex by surprise when he wakes up in the hospital bed to find dark fingers entwined with his own eerily pale digits. The nurses have told him at least once a day that his emergency contacts have been notified of both his condition and his location, but Alex’s drug-fogged brain hadn’t yet managed to connect that information with Maria. He remembers writing her name on the enlistment form all those years ago, since the only thing he can imagine worse than being injured in the line of duty is waking up to find Jesse Manes standing over him while he’s weak and vulnerable, but it had never even occurred to him that Maria would actually come when she got that call. Not when he knows damn well that she’s never set foot on a plane in her life, and that she’s got her own life to live thousands of miles away. It’s more than he would ever expected of her -- and yet. 

For a moment, Alex wonders if the doctor messed up the dosage of his meds. Maybe that soft, familiar presence and the comforting grip on his hand is a hallucination? He blinks slowly, once, twice, and lifts his gaze from the sparkling rings at her knuckles to find her face, and inhales sharply around the nasal cannula when he realizes that this is real, that Maria really is sitting in a hospital room in Zurich with him, and Alex is utterly overwhelmed with relief as the feeling of warmth and support that suffuses him from just that one look. 

There are tear-tracks on Maria’s cheeks, glistening under the fluorescent hospital lighting, and her usual curls are matted down in places, a sure sign that she’s just stepped off a plane, but Alex thinks she’s never looked better. It’s not the first time he’s woken up; he’d heard about his condition from the doctor two days prior, and he’s been trying to deal with it all on his own. There’s a long road ahead of him -- even after he’s permitted to leave this hospital, he’ll just be going to another Stateside for healing and therapy, and he’s heard from at least three medical professionals that everything will be a little bit easier with a support system. Until now, he’s just laughed scornfully, thinking of the way his so-called family has treated him, and the fact that the only person he’s ever felt genuinely, completely safe with is likely long-gone, wanting nothing to do with Alex after the way he left things during his last trip to Roswell. 

But having Maria on his side has always been more than enough, and this is no exception. Already, his new reality is feels just a little less oppressive, and he can breathe without wondering if the next inhalation would be what sent him into another round of panic.  He grips her fingers tightly and gives his best attempt at a smile, though it’s ruined when he winces at the tug of the IV in the back of his hand.

“Hi,” he manages, frustrated by the ache in his throat that stops him from speaking above a whisper. The doctors assure him it’s just a temporary effect of intubation, but Alex is getting pretty damn tired of it. It’s bad enough that he can’t even get out of bed to piss -- it’d be nice to have full control of at least one of his faculties. 

Maria’s laugh is a short, nearly soundless thing. “Hi,” she returns, and the fingers around his hand tighten briefly. “You know, this isn’t how I imagined the next time I saw you.” The exhaustion in her voice is obvious, and Alex has to ignore the niggle of guilt at being the reason for it. “I was going to read you the riot act for that disappearing act you pulled, last time you were home, and I was going to make you feel so bad about not calling me for months that you felt like you had to pay for the pizza and beer while we caught up.” 

“Can’t say it’s how I wanted it to go, either,” he tells her frankly, rolling his head to search for a clock along the wall. It’s 0300, and even with the time difference between Zurich and Roswell, Maria’s had a long damn day. “And you can still yell at me, if you want.” Alex knows that he deserves it -- and as long as it keeps Maria there, talking to him, he doesn’t care. The last couple of days have been hard, not just because of his physical condition, but because he’s been alone. He’s gotten used to having the guys in his squad around him twenty-four/seven, and has never liked the feeling of isolation. Laid up in the hospital alone with overly professional doctors and nurses with only his spiralling thoughts to keep him company is a recipe for disaster, one that’s been staved off by Maria’s appearance. So, yeah. If she wants to rip him a new one, he’ll sit there and take it. 

Her answering chuckle is humorless. “If I’m going to yell at you now, it’s going to be because you scared me to death, this time.” There’s a crack in the words, and Alex wants to close his eyes as he catches sight of the tears sliding down Maria’s cheeks. “You could have died, Alex. The doctor I talked to told me at least twice how lucky you were to be found so quickly, and that all you lost was --”

“Please don’t,” Alex says frantically, cutting her off. He’s squeezing her fingers and looking up, over her head, both to avoid watching as she cries and to hide his own reaction to her words. He’s still not ready to address the elephant in the room; everything he’s been feeling has been firmly shoved down and bottled up in his chest to be dealt with when he’s somewhere safe to fall apart -- but Maria’s been his safe place for long years of his life, and her presence is enough to make the wall between himself and his emotions feels pretty damn flimsy. He’s too used to trusting her with everything, too used to the comfort and calm she brings to his life, even after months with no contact. 

Part of him wants to tell her, to let his fears and horror pour out onto her sturdy shoulder -- but first, he knows he’d have to say the words. He’d have to admit that he hasn’t yet been able to muster the courage to lift the sterile, white blanket to look at the space where one of his feet should be. He’d have to say aloud that he can still feel something that’s no longer attached to his body. Fuck, Alex would have to tell his best friend, one of the few people left that Alex loves, that he’d crawled to safety after the explosion knocked out his humvee, and left three others behind to die. The very idea of it is enough to make him tremble, and Alex has to swallow down a wave of nausea that would likely bring a nurse and all manner of distraction. That might have been a good thing, if he didn’t think Maria would be forced to leave the room. 

“Hey,” Maria says softly, drawing his attention back to her. “It’s okay, Alex. I’m not going to make you talk about anything you’re not ready for.”

There’s a moment of silence, save the steady beeping of the medical equipment. Maria’s watching him, her eyes glassy and unfocused in a way that means she’s trying to get a read on him. He’s called it her ‘psychic face’ before, and followed it up with a teasing laugh, but it’s true that such an expression usually leads to Maria attempting to convince him to talk about something. But tonight, she only smiles again and stands up from her chair. Alex can’t help the instinctive rush of panic; the monitors on his heart beep faster and louder, showcasing his fear in an embarrassingly obvious fashion, but he can’t help it. There’s no reason to think Maria’s come all this way just to leave after a few minutes, but Alex’s desperation to avoid being alone overrides his common sense.

Gentle fingers push hair back from his forehead, and Alex takes a long, slow breath. “Just let me move my chair a little closer,” Maria tells him, and does exactly that. Fingers resume stroking through his hair soothingly, and the relief that floods his chest is downright shameful. “Hm,” Maria muses, after a few peaceful moments in which Alex manages to relax a bit. “I should tell you how lucky you are that I love you, because airplanes? So not my style, Manes. I don’t know how you do it -- screaming kids, couples hooking up in the tiny bathroom, people dumping drinks in your lap -- I’m pretty sure that if there really is a hell, we’re all going to be strapped in to tiny airplane seats surrounded by idiots for all eternity.” 

She shudders in mock horror, and Alex manages a tired smile. The morphine pump activated at some point in the last few minutes, and while the pain he’s feeling has decreased, he also feels a little floaty and detached from reality. It’s not entirely a good feeling; reality is grounding. It’s Maria’s smile and her teasing voice, the warmth of her hand on his. It’s the solid feeling of the bed beneath him and the knowledge that he’s no longer in a war zone, that he’s as safe as anyone can be in a hospital. But in his mind, in that hazy place the drugs drag him to, he’s still trapped in a humvee about to explode, with the stricken faces of fallen friends staring him down. 

“You get used to it,” Alex says aloud, shifting a little under the blankets to make himself more comfortable -- and to remind himself exactly where he is. “Tell me about Roswell. How’s Mimi?” It’s a blatant subject change, but a safe one. Maria launches into tales from home easily, growing more animated as she talks about the latest idiocies of Racist Hank and his cohorts, and the people who come into the bar. There’s a strange quality to her voice when she tells a story about Mimi and a psychic reading gone wrong, something almost melancholy, but it’s gone before Alex can ask. Through all of it, Maria holds Alex’s hand, and never once looks like she’d consider letting go. It’s an additional, all-important anchor, one Alex appreciates more than he’ll ever be able to explain, just like her embellished stories from home. 

“But then, Michael Guerin -- you remember him from high school, right? He grew up kind’ve hot, but the attitude is a total turn-off. But anyway, he comes in swinging, and takes Hank down before Long can even blink. It was actually awesome, but if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it.” 

Until that point, Alex has been half listening, half letting Maria’s familiar voice lull him to sleep, but the mention of Michael has him wide awake and on edge again in a moment. He blames it on the pain meds, but Alex has been thinking of him since he woke up in the hospital. Maria means safety to Alex; she’s a sanctuary in a world full of people who seem to hate him for no reason. But Michael is the one person who has ever physically protected Alex -- the only one who he’s been able to be wholly vulnerable with and could trust to watch his back. And in this hospital with all of his weaknesses put on display for anyone who cares to look through the window, Alex can’t help but wish Guerin was here to offer that refuge again. It’s undeniably selfish, considering how he’d left things between them, but Alex can’t help himself. 

“Should I be leaving to let you get some sleep?” Maria asks, thankfully interrupting Alex’s thoughts. “It’s almost five in the morning, and I’m talking your ear off about bar brawls while you’re supposed to be healing.” 

Alex shakes his head quickly, and regrets it when the room spins. “No,” he answers, as firmly as he can manage. “I might fall asleep on you, but -- if you can stay, I’d really appreciate it.” Maria’s always been too good at figuring him out. He imagines he can see her reading his mind, flipping through the anxiety and loneliness there like she would the pages of a magazine. “It helps,” he admits a moment later, because there’s no point in trying to act tough, now. “To have you here. I’ve been going crazy all day, and I just --” 

“You don’t need to explain, Alex. What else are friends for?” Maria interrupts, and slings her legs over one arm of her chair to recline back against the other in a show of exaggerated comfort. “I’ve slept in worse places than this, believe me. Would you believe Chad made me go camping? I spend the whole damn night with a giant rock digging into my kidney. This is practically the Taj Mahal in comparison.” From her new position, Maria reaches out to recapture Alex’s hand in silent assurance, and once again, he finds himself wondering what he did to deserve a friend like Maria DeLuca.

“Love you,” she yawns, as a passing nurse pops her head in to turn off the lights. Her eyes are already closing, her voice quiet as she begins to sink into sleep.

The simple declaration makes Alex’s eyes sting, and he’s grateful Maria isn’t looking at him while he pulls himself together. It takes a moment, fighting against the lump in his throat and the incessant pull of medication-induced exhaustion, but finally he answers: “Love you, too.”

February, 2019: 

Liz is the first one to catch sight of him when he walks into the Crashdown, and Alex grins at her gobsmacked look as she takes in the leather jacket tossed casually over the discounted band t-shirt he picked up from the local department store on a whim. He’s still wearing well-tailored jeans and his standard-issue boots, but Alex knows that this one little wardrobe change makes a big difference in his overall appearance. The obvious, and then the more subtle -- the way he feels just a little more at home in his own skin, and the confidence it gives him to stand just a little bit taller when he’s comfortable. There’s still a lot of work to do on that front; Alex isn’t sure he’s ever going to be utterly content in his own body now that he’s missing a piece of it, but reclaiming his identity from the military is, in his mind, a damn good place to start. 

“I miss the eyeliner,” Liz tells him, head cocked thoughtfully to one side, as he weaves his way through the crowd around the counter. If her smile is thinner than it used to be, Alex understands. She’s mourning Max Evans even as she celebrates Rosa’s resurrection, and all anyone else can do is be there to support her -- and maybe offer a little assistance in creating a fake identity for an eighteen year old girl who’s been legally declared deceased for the last decade. “Otherwise, I totally approve of this 2000s flashback, as long as it’s sticking around.” Liz stretches up on her toes to hug him across the counter, and Alex returns the affection. 

“I’m not officially at the end of my enlistment, so I’m stuck with regulation-issue for at least the next month, most of the time,” Alex replies with a one-shouldered shrug. In all honesty, he’s still not entirely sure that he’s ready to lose the uniform and the anonymity that comes from blending in with the crowd completely. It’s nice to step out of the Air Force Captain role once in a while and remind himself that he’s still human, but the thought of losing that fall-back permanently, especially considering everything else he’s lost lately, is overwhelming. And, quite frankly, terrifying. “But I’m off duty today, so I thought I’d --” 

“See if you could remember how to dress yourself without Uncle Sam’s help?” Liz supplies with a wink, and slides a milkshake across the counter in front of an empty barstool. It’s obviously an invitation to sit and stay a while. They’re supposed to be spending some time together -- it’s one of the several ways Alex has begun insinuating himself in Liz’s life and attempting to stop her from working herself to death while she tries to hide from her grief and confusion.  It’s harder than it sounds; already, Alex is forty-five minutes late to meet Liz, and he knows she was supposed to be off the clock at least an hour ago. It’s not unexpected, of course. When Liz can’t run from her problems, she hides from them in work instead, whether it be creating serum after serum to bring Max back in her makeshift lab, or working shifts in the diner like she’d always claimed to hate in high school. 

Alex claims the empty barstool in front of the counter and sips at the milkshake, warming a little when he realizes it’s the same flavor he’s always ordered and enjoyed. “Hey, it’s harder than it sounds,” he argues half-heartedly. He and Liz are good friends, and they understand each others’ hurts more than other people can,  but he knows she doesn’t get why playing with his fashion choices is so important to him, or why it’s so hard to face the upcoming end of his contract with the Air Force when he’s never really loved it, anyway. “And since I haven’t seen you without a lab coat or the antennae --” Alex looks pointedly at the headband in question, one eyebrow quirked. “-- in at least a week and a half, I don’t think you get to judge me.”

Liz makes a face at him and sweeps the antenna off her head with one hand, exasperation obvious in the short, jerky movement. “I’d argue, but considering I don’t remember the last time I put on a pair of jeans, I think you’re probably right.” She leans forward over the counter, propping her elbows on the surface and looks up at Alex, giving him an excellent view of the dark circles beneath her eyes, visible even through the meticulously-applied layers of concealer. To make matters worse, there’s a strain in the lines of her mouth and forehead that speak of long nights full of science and data collection rather than rest, and Alex finds himself wishing, once again, that any of the aliens in Roswell were capable of thinking before they act. Max Evans has a lot to answer for if they ever manage to resurrect him, and Alex will be waiting to make sure he knows it. Liz deserves better than this halflife of cautious hope and grief. She deserves more than frantic research and the stress of looking after her newly-resurrected sister. Liz should have the happiness that Max Evans promised by loving her, and Alex could punch the guy for thinking that sacrificing himself for Rosa would do anything but hurt. 

“Kyle and Rosa went to Albuquerque for the weekend,” Liz tells him, and Alex may not be a psychic like Maria, or an alien like Isobel, but he knows her well enough to see the signs of guilty relief in her expression. “She hasn’t been sleeping well, and he thought getting her out of town and away from everything for a couple of days might help.” At first, Rosa had clung to Liz like a child to its mother. She wouldn’t even look at Kyle, who’d wanted nothing more than a chance at a relationship with the sister he never thought he’d get to have. But Rosa Ortecho is as resilient as her sister -- maybe more, if Alex is honest with himself -- and she’s taken the new world she’s been brought into mostly in stride. Nightmares from the trauma of her death aren’t surprising, nor is the fact that she’s been clinging to people she knew and trusted before her death. But it’s taken an obvious toll on Liz, both emotional and physical, and Alex is relieved that Kyle’s managed to convince Rosa that he can be trusted. For all their sakes. 

“That’s great,” Alex enthuses. “What are you going to do with your weekend, then?” It’s not likely that Liz has plans outside of working or going to sit with Max’s body in that damned cave, but he can’t help but hope. The two of them are supposed to get dinner together tonight; maybe he can convince her to come stay at the cabin where he can keep an eye on her. Or knock her out until she gets a decent night’s rest -- Alex won’t pretend he hasn’t considered asking Kyle for a sedative in the past few months. 

Three months has never seemed like a long period of time, except maybe during basic training, but it feels like years have passed since Liz lost Max -- since Alex lost Michael and Maria in one fell swoop.  The two of them have drawn closer than ever in that time, both hurting from losses, but Alex has gotten better. He’s not mad at Maria or Michael any more, not really, and he’s starting to piece together a life. One that will remain after Alex can’t call himself an airman anymore, whether he’s got Guerin or Maria in his life or not. 

Liz isn’t moving forward, and Alex doesn’t know how to help. It’s like an integral piece of her soul is locked in the pod with Max, and another piece of her is tightly bound to Rosa and her new life -- and the remaining parts just aren’t enough to keep her sane or happy. 

“Nothing special. I haven’t gotten to visit the cave in a few days, and I need new samples, so I’ll probably spend most of my time in the lab.” Liz takes off her apron and drapes it over a hook and signals something to her father, who’s poking his head through the order window and speaking rapidly in Spanish that Alex can’t keep up with. He catches the equivalent of, ‘get some rest!’ and ‘no more shifts for you this weekend, mija,’ which tells him that he’s not the only one noticing that Liz has been spending entirely too much time punched in lately. That, at least, is gratifying.

“Come on, we can talk upstairs while I get dressed -- in real clothes,” she tells Alex with an ironic chuckle, and leads the way to the staircase that takes them to the small apartment the Ortechos have lived in since their arrival in Roswell. While they walk, Alex reminds himself that he’s not here to get frustrated with Liz’s coping mechanisms, or to scold her for being so careless with herself. He’s here to be a friend -- and no matter how much he wants to shake her, he needs to be patient. 

The apartment above the Crashdown hasn’t changed at all since they were in high school. Arturo has clearly kept everything exactly the same for his daughter -- and now daughters -- and Alex can’t decide if that’s a positive thing or not. It explains a lot about Liz’s refusal to move forward after a tragedy, though; evidently, it’s genetic. The furniture is in the same configuration in the living room, the same Mexican-inspired decor on the walls, and walking into Liz and Rosa’s room is like taking a trip in the TARDIS to the late 90s. Rosa’s clothes are still lying all around the room, her band posters taped up on the wall in nearly the same spots, and Liz still has the same books on the bookshelf in the corner. 

“I think I’m actually going to call Michael into work with me this weekend, if I can convince him,” Liz says from her position in front of the closet, wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of leggings as she studies her options. “He got arrested again last night, so he clearly needs to put his brain to work before he gets into trouble that Isobel can’t bail him out of.” 

The words are matter-of-fact, and Alex appreciates that Liz has stopped trying to avoid mentioning Michael or Maria to him at all. Dancing around people so integral to her life, and once so involved in his own, is awkward and uncomfortable, and though it still causes a little pang of hurt in his chest to hear either of their names, Alex would much rather hear about how they’re doing. They may all be avoiding each other for now, but he’s never going to stop seeing either of them as family -- what kind of man would that make him? Do one thing to hurt him, make one mistake, and he’s done caring? He’s not his father, damn it. He’s just needed some time to heal, to let go of the hurt and anger that came with what felt like betrayal, and he’s had it. The fact that Liz recognizes that makes him love her all the more. 

“He’s missing Max, too,” Alex guesses quietly, leaning heavily on one side of the doorway to Liz’s room. “I know they’re not as close as they used to be, but they’re still family. And Guerin’s never quite figured out how to hurt without hurting anyone who gets too close.” It’s a habit Alex has, too -- which is why he and Michael always managed to leave each other cut and bleeding when things went bad. Their sharp edges didn’t match up; they sliced into each other instead. 

Liz’s bottom lip catches between her teeth, and she worries at it for a beat too long. Alex frowns at her, waiting for an explanation. He knows that Guerin’s reverted to old habits in the last three months; it’s impossible to go outside without hearing rumors of his latest brawls and assault charges. Alex assumes he hasn’t been sleeping around, since Maria would likely castrate him if he cheated on her, but Michael in a self-destructive spiral isn’t new, as much as it makes Alex ache to witness. “Liz, Max was his brother in every way that mattered. Of course he’s going to act out. Isobel’s doing exactly the same thing - she’s just being quieter about it.” 

There’s a moment of silence, then Liz shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s just that,” she admits. “He’s been worse, lately. He’s been avoiding Isobel, and ignoring my phone calls, even when he knows they’re about the serum. Isolating himself.” They’re quiet again as Liz finally chooses a red shirt and pulls it over her head, then turns to sit down at the edge of the bed to look back at Alex with indecision written all over her face. She’s trying to decide whether or not to tell him something, clearly, and he’s not pleased. 

“Just tell me, Liz,” he orders, a shadow of his command voice lingering in the tone he uses. “I thought we were done pretending that I’m not in love with Michael Guerin -- you knew when you started that I’d want to hear the rest of it, so just tell me.”

Liz sighs, her shoulders slumping obviously. “I was worried about him when he didn’t answer his phone this afternoon,” she begins, picking at the hem of her shirt. “So I went to see Maria, since they were together. I thought she’d be able to help, or at least tell me where to find him.” Were together? Alex’s heartbeat picks up, and he hates himself a little for it. Even if Michael and Maria are done, it doesn’t mean that Guerin wants to be with Alex -- or even that Alex wants to be with him. There’s so much shit between them now that he doesn’t know that they could ever work it all out, and he’s loathe to give up all of the forward momentum he’s built on a whim. 

“When I got there, Maria was three-quarters of the way into a bottle of tequila and all I could get out of her was that she and Michael are over,” Liz continues, and glances up at him, the inside of her cheek caught between her teeth. “Between that and the fact that it looks like Mama DeLuca’s going to have to go into an assisted living facility --”

“What?” Alex demands sharply, cutting Liz off. “What do you mean, Mimi’s going to a facility? Since when? Why?” He doesn’t know how to feel about the end of Michael’s latest relationship, and it doesn’t matter, anyway. Not unless Guerin comes around and actually wants to talk to him, and Alex doesn’t see that happening any time soon. But the idea of the only woman who’d ever shown any real motherly affection for Alex being put in a facility is far more pressing. He can’t stand the idea, not after everything Mimi’s done for him. What the hell is Maria thinking? 

Liz presses her lips together, and pats the space beside her on the mattress. Alex doesn’t move immediately, but when it’s clear she doesn’t plan on explaining further until he sits, he obeys the unspoken order and joins her, shoulder-to-shoulder. Without any care to personal space, Liz reaches over and grabs his hand, their palms cupped together like kindergartners entering a classroom for the first time, and she sighs. 

“Mimi wandered off a couple of days ago. Sheriff Valenti had to send people out to find her, and she made it pretty clear she didn’t think Maria could handle looking after her alone, anymore.” Weary sadness rippled in Liz’s dark eyes, and Alex knows she can see the same emotion echoed back in his own. Mimi DeLuca had been a surrogate mother to both of them as they navigated the treacheries of high school, and neither of them had done much to help Maria support her, especially lately. Instead, Alex had closed Maria out of his life, gone out of his way to avoid her in town and ignore her messages under the guise of moving on -- and now, with this slap of reality, he’s overwhelmed with guilt for his actions. Maria deserves better from him, just as he deserves better from her, and hiding from each other isn’t going to solve anything.

“Put on your shoes,” he says finally, sucking in a breath and bracing himself for what he knows they’ve got to do. “I know what we’re doing tonight.”

They go to Maria’s, of course. Liz is the one to pick her up of the Pony’s floor and get her into a set of pajamas, but Alex doesn’t hide in the background, either. It’s awkward, at first; Maria is clearly stunned to see him, and more than a little uncomfortable, and Alex is still upset and uncertain. Liz doesn’t let the awkwardness get far, though -- she just grabs a bottle of whiskey from Maria’s stash in the kitchen and uncorks it, then hands it off to Alex. It’s a time-honored tradition of drinking away their sorrows, and he doesn’t hesitate to imbibe. 

They don’t talk about Michael much, that night. They drink instead, and squeeze together in Maria’s queen-sized bed, shoulder-to-shoulder, all three of them, like they did the night they danced to forget their grief after Rosa’s death. Liz drinks enough to admit she’s not sure they can bring Max back, and she hates him a little for sacrificing himself for Rosa, for Liz, without even talking to her first. Maria sobs her way through the story of Mimi’s sudden decline, leaning heavily against Liz’s side as she speaks of a mother who no longer recognizes her, of frantic searches and angry neighbors who’ve found the woman ranting about science fiction movies in their yards at three in the morning. She talks about the financial strain, about the second mortgage she’s taken out on the bar, and Alex manages to ignore the haze of bitterness in his mind when he looks at her enough to kiss her cheek and promise that it’s going to be okay, somehow, and that she’s not alone. 

Even under the influence of half a bottle of whiskey and a couple of tequila shots, Alex keeps his own hurts to himself. This isn’t the time to bring up Michael or the tangled mess his father has created for all of them, and he doesn’t think either he or Maria is ready to discuss the betrayal lingering between them. But the night proves to Alex that he will, eventually, be able to forgive Maria -- that she’s still one of the most important people in his world, even when she makes mistakes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the darkness after Liz has fallen asleep on the other side of the bed. Maria’s laying on the other woman’s chest, one arm across her waist, while her back is pressed into Alex’s side. “I know it doesn’t change anything. I know how much I hurt you, and how angry you are --”

“I’m not angry,” Alex insists, just a little too fast. For a moment, he’s reminded of that day on the playground the first time they met, when Maria knew how he felt even better than Alex himself -- one would think that after all of this time and a thousand other examples of her psychic talents, he’d believe her, but it still comes as a shock, every time. 

Maria sighs, a quiet hiccup escaping her lips before she rolls on her side to face him. They’re sharing the same pillow; there’s not a lot of room on the bed, and even if there was, Alex knows they would’ve all gravitated together. Comfort is tradition in their friendship, and even if it’s a bit unorthodox, he hopes it’ll never change. 

“I’m too drunk to do this right,” Maria says clearly. “But I don’t know if I can do it sober, so.” Her nose wrinkles, and she makes a face as she pushes herself into a sitting position. Alex follows suit, careful not to put too much pressure on the place where his leg joins with the prosthetic. It’s a habit, these days, carefully cultivated in the years since he lost part of himself -- just as avoiding this subject has become habit. There’s still a huge part of him that still wants to run, to mumble an apology and scramble out the door before he loses his mind, but this is Maria, and he needs to stay.

“Michael is in love with you,” she says, speaking slowly and over-annunciating the words like she always does when she’s had too much to drink. “He was the whole time. I knew it, but I didn’t want to admit it, because he’s --” Maria’s eyes close, and she swallows heavily. Alex wants to tell her to stop, wants to shove his fingers in his ears and hum until he can’t hear her anymore, but he’s not five years old, and he knows they need to do this if they ever want to move on. But fuck, it sucks. “He showed up for me, you know? Every time I needed him. And I thought that maybe, if he was the real thing, it would make up for how much I hurt you.” 

Alex looks up sharply at that, and has to swallow the angry response that bubbles up at the selfishness in Maria’s explanation. He bites his lower lip to keep silent, and Maria looks away, down at the bedspread her restless fingers are plucking at. 

“No one ever wants to believe that I can actually feel what they’re feeling,” she continues, and there’s virtually no slur to her words as she pushes forward. “Even you and Liz, and you’ve known me for most of my life. But I can. I do. And Michael never loved me, Alex. Not for a minute, even when I was so desperate to believe he did. I tried to ignore it. And I did -- but it’s pretty hard to forget that I heard him calling your name while we were in bed together.” Her smile is weak, full of self-deprecation and bitterness.  “I guess it’s only fair, because in the end, he hurt me just as much as I hurt you. Karma’s a bitch, huh?” 

And what the hell is he supposed to say to that? Alex hates the small voice in the back of his head that’s whispering yes, it is fair, because he knows it’s not. This isn’t the Biblical era, and an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. He wouldn’t wish heartbreak on his worst enemy, let alone his best friend, no matter what she’s done -- especially not when he knows that her world is collapsing around her shoulders as Mimi’s health continues to decline. 

“I’m in love with Michael,” he says finally, when the silence in the room has gone on a moment too long, and he can see Maria beginning to fidget under his scrutiny. “I’ve been in love with him for ten years, and I don’t see that changing, but God, Maria -- I love you too, you know. And yeah, maybe I’m still pissed, and hurt, and everything else you’re seeing in my aura or … however you always know, but you’re my best friend. I want you in my life. I’m always going to want you in my life.” He reaches across the distance between them and takes her hand, just as she’d done for him so many years ago when Alex didn’t know what it was to have someone solidly in his corner. 

“This isn’t going to destroy us,” he promises earnestly, and finds a smile for her, though he knows the expression is loaded with everything he’s not saying. It’s going to take time to mend the broken trust between them, and Alex knows that it’ll be nearly as hard for Maria to watch him with Michael as it was in the reverse if things go that way, but for once, he allows himself to be an optimist. It’s going to work out because he won’t settle for anything less. 

Maria nods slowly, and squeezes his hand in return. “No,” she agrees, determination settling over her tired, pinched features. “It won’t.” 

Alex has never been more grateful that Maria doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. If she says that this won’t break them, she’ll move heaven and earth to make it true. He’s seen her do it before, when she was determined to convince Rosa to go to rehab, or when she showed up in a German hospital after her very first plane ride despite her aviophobia. She’s gone to bat for Liz when the townspeople were after her to make her pay for Rosa’s apparently poor choices, and Alex has seen Maria go toe-to-toe with men twice her size to protect the women in her bar, armed with nothing but her sharp tongue and scathing commentary. Maria DeLuca doesn’t let anything stand in her way, not fear nor insecurity nor hurt, and Alex knows that he can at least trust her to stick around while he figures out how to forgive her. 

It’s not perfect, but it’s enough. 

October, 2021:

“Guerin, you have to stop,” Alex says with a reluctant sigh, though the insistent warmth spreading through his body tells him to give into Michael’s promises that they have plenty of time to waste. They’re in their cabin, Alex fully dressed aside for the buttons that Michael undid to get at his neck, and Michael wearing nothing but a towel and a pout at Alex’s gentle rejection. “We’ve got to be at Max’s in ten minutes, and I’d rather not spend the first half an hour we’re there getting mocked for the hickey you’re trying to leave on my neck.” 

He tugs at one damp curl teasingly, then steps out of Michael’s reach to rebutton his flannel properly. When he glances in the mirror over the bathroom sink, his face is flushed and his hair tousled, but the happiness in his eyes and demeanor makes it hard to complain. Some days, it’s hard to believe that Alex can be this content in his life; he’s got Michael, a shared home in the cabin Jim Valenti left him. He’s got a job designing cyber security code that’s fulfilling and leaves him with time for his music and his family, and Jesse Manes and the rest of his sons are miles back in Alex’s rearview mirror. It’s a good life, and Alex is damned lucky to have it. 

“Or . . . we could just skip this whole thing,” Michael drawls, and the heated stare he levels at Alex from his lounge against the doorframe is almost enough to make him consider it. But Liz had been adamant that everyone needed to be there tonight when she texted the invite, and Alex hasn’t seen her or the rest of his friends in a couple of days, anyway. In the last two years, since the worst of the alien drama was put behind them, he’s been careful to maintain all of his relationships, and worked to make them stronger. Ditching out on Liz without any notice isn’t the kind of thing a good friend would do, no matter how tempting the drops of water rolling down Michael’s chest might be. 

“Get dressed, cowboy,” Alex says with a laugh, and shoves a pair of jeans from the top of the laundry hamper into Michael’s outstretched hands. “I want to know what Liz’s news is, and I want to make sure Isobel hasn’t gone totally overboard ordering stuff for the spare room -- I still can’t believe you told her to get whatever she wanted.”

Michael snorts, but unfolds the jeans and drags them up over his lean legs. “Have you met Isobel?” he asks, the question called over his shoulder as Alex moves around him and into the bedroom to finish making himself presentable. “She would’ve ordered whatever she wanted no matter what I told her. We’ll go through the stuff when it gets here, use what we like, and send the rest back -- believe me. Max’s been doing it for years; otherwise, his whole house would be full of shitty lace curtains and ‘tasteful corals.’” 

The disgusted face he makes is impossible not to laugh at, so Alex does, and shakes his head ruefully. “I guess telling Isobel the truth never crossed your mind?”  

It’s Michael’s turn to laugh at him, apparently. “No, never,” he snorts. “Why don’t you give it a shot and let me know how it works out?” He pauses, then adds, “But if she asks, I know nothing about it and love everything she orders, because she’s way scarier than you.” Alex catches the wink in the mirror and groans, but knows Michael’s right. Isobel doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on anything, a fact that’s only gotten harder to ignore since she and Maria stopped pretending to hate each other a few months back and started making out, instead. 

Michael joins Alex in the bedroom to get a shirt, one of his ridiculously patterned ones that he’ll leave unbuttoned halfway down, Alex is sure. Over the last six months of officially dating Michael Guerin, he’s found that fashion choices are one of the battles he’s going to have to let go. 

“As for what Liz’s news -- come on. You really don’t know?” 

“You mean you do?” It doesn’t seem likely, since Guerin had gotten the same text Alex had, but there’s a definite gleam of I know something you don’t in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“It’s pretty hard to keep secrets in a family full of aliens with psychic powers,” Michael points out, looking far too smug for Alex’s comfort. “But that’s all I’m gonna say -- Liz’ll kill me if I ruin it for her.”

Somehow, Alex finds himself being hustled out of the house and into the truck, like he hadn’t been the one trying to get Michael moving just a few minutes prior. He lets it happen, though, only stopping to grab the bag of store-bought rolls and chips he’d offered to bring to dinner. The others all take turns cooking for their weekly get-togethers, but it was decided early on, long before he and Michael managed to work things out between them, that Alex was a hazard in the kitchen and needed to be saved from himself. (Boil one pot of water long enough to set fire to the bottom of it and no one will ever let you forget it!) So instead of offering his limited culinary skills, Alex brings what he can, and tries to make up for the lack in other ways -- not that anyone ever really lets him try. 

“It’s about damn time!” Maria’s on Max’s porch by herself when they pull up, grinning broadly in welcome, and Alex can’t help but smile back as he takes in the way her flowing skirt and jacket fly in the breeze. Time hasn’t softened Maria DeLuca, but it’s sanded down some of the sharper edges that developed in the months after Mimi’s hospitalization, especially after Max and Liz managed to combine science and superhuman abilities to stabilize her dementia. 

Time, conversation, and sheer refusal to give up on each other have also mended the rift between Alex and Maria. It was as Alex guessed when they talked about Michael that first time; they both wanted to forgive each other enough that walking away was never an option. When Michael and Alex finally got back together after a year and a half of dancing around each other, Maria was the first one Alex called -- and the sliver of uncertainty that remained between them disappeared. Maria is family, just like Liz and Rosa and all the others, and he’s sure now that nothing will ever change that. 

“Good to see you too, DeLuca,” Michael snarks, squeezing her shoulder as he passes to get in the door. He won’t admit it, but Alex knows he’s excited to see Max. After nearly two and a half years of grief, fear, and frantic research and experimentation, the three months that he’s been back in Roswell are negligible. Michael, Isobel, and Liz, especially, still look at the other man like he’s about to disappear sometimes, and it took a particularly stern intervention to get them to allow him to leave their sight. 

Alex stays on the porch with Maria for another moment, and presses an innocent kiss to the top of her head. “We still on to go see your mom tomorrow afternoon?” he asks, referring to the plans they’d made several days ago, before Alex had been forced to go out of town on business. Liz, Rosa, and Alex all take turns visiting Mimi with Maria as often as possible; she’s been like a mother to all of them for all of these years, and no one has any intention of forgetting that because she’s ill. 

Maria nods once, her smile growing a little more serious. “If you’re still up for it, yeah. I told her today, but --” she shrugs, and Alex gives her a quick side-hug when his mind fills in the blanks. Mimi’s condition may be stable now, but the damage couldn’t be reversed. No matter what she knows today, there’s a slim chance she’ll remember tomorrow. 

Everyone gathers in the enormous living room of Max’s house, carrying plates heavily laden with barbecue and cook out fixings. Liz and Max have obviously spent the better part of the day slaving over a hot grill, because there’s enough food to feed a small army. Alex settles himself on one end of the couch and Michael joins him, squishing in close so that Isobel and Maria can fit, as well. Liz perches on the arm of Max’s chair across the room, her dancer’s legs tangling with his longer ones, and Alex stares at them, trying to figure out what they’re hiding. There’s a suspiciously large smile on Liz’s face, even as Michael and Kyle tease her about the amount of time she’s been spending at Max’s place, and there’s a happily astonished expression on Max’s face that doesn’t disappear, even as the party wears on. 

“Figured it out yet?” Michael asks in a whisper, leaning close. 

Alex shakes his head, even though he thinks he’s got a pretty good guess. He’ll let Liz tell them in her own time -- he wouldn’t want his moment ruined by anyone else, after all. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for confirmation of his theory, though. After everyone’s finished eating and the plates are piled in the sink, Max clears his throat and stands, looking around at all of them like he can’t quite believe what he’s about to say. Michael and Isobel grin back at him, obviously in on whatever secret he’s about to divulge, and Alex raises an eyebrow at Liz, who just winks. 

“I’m not one for speeches,” Max says, pointedly ignoring Michael’s teasing scoff. “But after what we’ve all been through, I think it’s important that I say how incredibly lucky I feel to have all of you in my life. I literally wouldn’t be here without each and every one of you, and --” Max glances at Liz, who sidles up to him and links their hands, happiness permeating every line of her body. “We all know that life is short.” Dark, serious eyes rest on Rosa for a moment, and Alex’s breath catches in his throat at the stark reminder. Guerin’s hand slides into his, and Alex squeezes back, forcing himself to turn his attention to Max again. “I’m not going to waste any of the extra time I’ve been given on fighting with the people I love, or keeping secrets. So, in the spirit of honesty --” 

“And sharing good news!” Liz adds, elbowing Max. 

“ -- Liz and I want you guys to be the first to know that we’re getting married.” 

Alex gets lost for a moment in the ensuing flood of cheers and congratulations. Michael is gone, up and slapping his brother on the back and saying something about how he told Max that the ring he picked out was good enough. In the next instant, Maria is standing too, and hauling Alex up by the hands to drag him across the floor to Liz. She’s laughing, open-mouthed and incandescent with true happiness, and she lets the two of them enclose her in a hug without a single noise of complaint. Rosa throws herself at Liz’s back, her hair hanging down in her sister’s face, and it’s the perfect fucking moment. The future looms on the horizon, and none of them know what’s to come, but he’s holding Maria’s hand and hugging Liz, and watching Rosa celebrate with her sister after a decade spent mourning her.  

The four of them found each other when they most needed it. They’d started this all together, grown closer through trauma and tragedy, and the tiny, make-shift family they started had grown by leaps and bounds. None of them are the scared, lonely children they once were, and Alex is overwhelmed by the realization that they’ve made it through the worst. All that’s left for them to do is be happy. 

“I can’t believe you took Michael ring shopping with you, Max Evans!” Isobel’s disapproving voice floats over the din of the small crowd, making Liz and Maria dissolve into a sing-song chorus of, “Max is in tro-uble!” like they’re still eight years old on the playground. Michael ducks out of swatting range as his sister comes for him, but Maria jumps in front so that her girlfriend can smack the back of his head gently. Guerin, of course, makes a show out of being wounded, and looks to Alex for sympathy. 

Alex throws his head back and laughs, and allows himself to be carried away in the joy of the moment.

#crashfest #my fic #friendship fic #malex fic #[happy endings and fluff oops] #vignette series #13k

[amberbeach]

'ESCAPING THE HARD TIMES'

gif belongs to lunarskye

Scott had become the Red Ranger without talking it through with you first. Not for permission or anything, so that you were involved in such a big decision that would affect you both. 

That’s how it all started.

A year passed, and the reasons to fight kept growing. He said something insensitive; it was always brought up. Not that you were an angel, you weren’t. When you found out that he joined the Rangers, you gave him the silent treatment for a week, so whenever you argued he would say “Let me guess, I shouldn’t expect to hear from you for the rest of the week?” and every time it made the arguments worse.

Your relationship was going through the hardest of times. Living through a world that was being destroyed by a virus hadn’t made it any easier.

But Scott didn’t want to fight anymore. He wanted to be able to go back to how you were before. He wanted to cuddle you for the first time in a while and not be told he was acting suspiciously like he needed something or was hiding something. He wanted to make you smile and laugh again instead of making you cry and slowly drive you further away. He knew it was inevitable. You would break up if it carried on like this. And he would never be prepared for that.

“Hey.” He walked down the metal staircase. “What are you doing?”

“I lost an earring in here.” You climbed into the car and searched the floors.

Scott waited for a moment before clearing his throat. He needed someone to confide in, and he hoped that you would still be that person who was always there when he needed you.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

“I don’t know, can we?” You replied.

Scott sighed when you got out his car.

“It’s not there. I must’ve lost it somewhere else.” You started walking away.

“Wait -” You closed the door, and he looked at the ceiling, closing his eyes. He shook his head as he stared at the door you left through.

Maybe he was wrong. The damage was too catastrophic, it seemed. Perhaps the end was nearer than he believed.

You walked into the garage hours later and looked around, seeing Flynn and Dillon working on their cars. But Scott wasn’t there, which struck you as odd.

“Hey.” You smiled at Flynn, who returned it, putting down his tools.

“Hey, have you talked to Scott?” He asked.

“Define talking.” You said with a roll of your eyes. “He just wants to fight all the time recently.”

Flynn shook his head. “He’s been quiet ever since he came back from the crash site.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What crash site?”

“The one where his brother died.” Dillon spoke up.

You looked down.

“He didn’t tell you?” Flynn asked.

“No. But he tried to.” You headed up the metal steps to Scott’s bedroom. You knocked on the door, biting your lip anxiously. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” You faintly heard him say.

You looked at Flynn and Dillon before going inside. You held up your earring when Scott looked at you.

“Found it.” You smiled weakly. You sighed as you sat beside him on the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were busy.” He looked away, and you let out another sigh.

“You should’ve said something. I would’ve forgotten about it.” You said. “So, why did you go back?”

“Dr. K needed something from the plane.” He looked at his hands, and you moved closer, placing your hand in his.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You felt yourself tearing up. You had once told him the same thing after his father had gotten to him. Scott had let all his hurt and anger out on you, so you never brought up his brother. He never spoke about him until now.

You could see his jaw tensing and knew he was struggling to keep his tears at bay. He turned around and brought you into his arms. You felt his head hide in the crook your neck and wrapped your arms around him. Scott held you tighter, and you bit your bottom lip harshly. Your heart ached for him, having this misplaced guilt weighing him down. But also since you couldn’t remember the last time you had ever hugged like this or even spoke without arguing.

You heard your tear hit the leather on his jacket and buried your head in his shoulder as more fell.

“I’m sorry if I made you think I don’t care - I do! I just - I can’t imagine losing you too!”

Scott lifted his head and placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb. A small smile formed on his lips, “I know.” He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead on yours. “I know. I’m sorry I’ve made things so hard between us.”

“I’m not exactly innocent, either.” You whispered. “How about we just leave it all behind? It all started cause of the Power Rangers, but I’ve adjusted to it, so it’s irrelevant now.” 

“I don’t make you happy anymore.”

You lifted your head, scooting closer to place your hands on his cheeks. “Yes, you do. Because even in our worst fights, I still remember how you can make me laugh. How you can make me smile more than anyone else. We lost sight of what’s important, but right now, we have the choice to fix it.”

Scott looked into your eyes. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

You smiled. “I don’t want to lose you either.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, his arms going around your waist as he kissed your cheek. “I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

It took a few days for the awkwardness to subside. But it became clear that your relationship was stronger than you believed. There was no more petty arguing—just understanding. There was more psychical interaction around the team, whereas before, there would be no more than a kiss on the cheek. He missed having you close, and he had gone a long time without being able just to pull you to his chest, encasing you in his arms as he came down from his adrenaline high after a battle against Venjix.

You had escaped the hardest times of your relationship. The times where you spent your time screaming at each other, ending in tears every time. Sometimes you wouldn’t even enter a room if you knew Scott was in it so that you didn’t have another fight. And you had seen him do the same. But it was over now. Your relationship had survived, and you were stronger because of it.

#scott truman #scott truman imagine #scott truman imagines #scott truman x reader #power rangers rpm #power rangers rpm imagine #power rangers rpm imagines

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, pegasusdragontiger!

April 25 - Steve Rogers/ Darcy Lewis, something smutty/crack/fluffy Darcy is a witch and Steve's her other half and he finds out she's a witch and is smitten? with the prompt “I’m not gonna stop leaving marks till I’m sure everyone will know you’re mine.”, for @pegasusdragontiger

Written by @iamartemisday

Darcy Lewis was a witch, not a psychic.

Her great-aunt was a psychic and successfully predicted both her parents’ divorce and the blue ribbon she would win in sixth grade for track. Her half-brother could also do this thing where he’d look into his babysitter’s eyes and instantly know where the cookie jar was hidden.

Darcy, however, had not inherited such talents. It was sad but true.

And she should’ve remembered that when she set out into the world and got herself an internship with an eccentric if brilliant scientist stationed in the middle of the desert.

Expectation: spend a few months building sandcastles while practicing her potion making and wow-ing her squishy muggle friend with some magic tricks.

Reality: walk into the lab on day two to find Jane sucking blood out of a bag through a straw of all things and suddenly understanding why she never ate and was pretty much nocturnal.

“You’re a vampire!” Darcy screamed, pointing at Jane’s bloodstained lips.

“Yeah,” Jane said, blinking her red eyes away and retracting her fangs. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was going to but some things came up and I never got around to it so…”

“You’re a vampire!”

“Er...yes, I am.

“Why are you a vampire?!”

“You mean was I born this way?” Jane tossed the empty blood bag away. “Kind of. My dad was a vampire and my mom is human, but when I was twenty-three, I decided-”

“Why are you a vampire???”

The conversation went on like that for a few hours until Darcy threw up her hands and accepted it.

She would continue to accept things all the way to the Avengers main HQ in upstate New York, where Jane had been taken on by Tony Stark as a member of his science team (which mostly meant they and Dr. Banner would hole away for days at a time, building robots or whatever). Being Tony Stark, he took the witch and vampire thing in stride and the two of them quickly settled into their new lives and new responsibilities.

Expectation: Get another year of experience as an administrative assistant before applying to grad school, try to get that one cooling charm to work in time for summer, and not see her supernatural life and her superhero life coincide in any way.

Reality: Visit her new best acquaintances Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes after they were attacked while on a mission and realize those dog bites were not dog bites.

“I think it’s a werewolf,” she declared to Jane later when they were alone.

“Are you sure?” Jane was in the middle of arranging a meeting with her blood dealer, which was a thing for vampires apparently. “Could’ve just been a really big dog.”

“I don’t know.” Darcy flipped through the photos her mother had sent her. They all looked just like the gashes on Steve’s shoulder and Bucky’s stomach.

The two men were discharged the next day, miraculously healed and feeling better than ever. Over the next few weeks, certain… changes would occur. Bucky made a scene in the lounge one day accusing Sam of stealing his butterscotch ice cream.

“I did not take your stupid ice cream, asshole.”

“Oh yes you did, I can smell it on you!”

“I bought my own ice cream and ate it yesterday. What do you mean you smell it?”

Steve reported a case of sexual harassment after overhearing a janitor making lewd comments about the receptionist.

“I can’t believe none of you heard him. He was practically screaming.”

“He was all the way across the lobby. And it’s crowded in here. How did you hear him?”

Both of them caused several thousand dollars in property damage by accidentally ripping doors apart and putting holes in the wall.

“Okay, I know the serum was good, but since when is it this good?”

“It’s not. At least, I don’t think it is. I don’t know anymore.”

A day before the next full moon, Darcy knew it was time to bite the bullet and tell them her theory. She dragged Jane along with her, just in case she needed back up. They found Steve and Bucky duking it out in one of the only training rooms they hadn’t destroyed yet.

No one else was around, which was good. Those claws and gold eyes would’ve been really hard to explain to a Normie.

“Huh,” Jane said, her eyes clouding and turning red as she was almost hypnotically drawn to Bucky’s aggressive stance. “Guess you were right.”

The battle was a standstill for the moment. Both men had lost their shirts and their bare chests were covered in claw marks. Glass windows had been cracked and safety mats shredded. Steve’s teeth seemed to grow sharper by the second as he snarled at his best friend, ready to strike.

“Hey, guys!” Darcy shouted, using a spell to magnify her voice. “You need to come out so we can talk. It’s important.”

“I think we should stay in here,” Steve said calmly.

“Might be safer for you,” Bucky agreed.

“Look, I know what you’re going through. Granted not firsthand, but I’ve read about it, and the first month after the bite is really hard. It’ll be easier after you transform tomorrow. Until then, you have to chill.”

“Chill?” Bucky rounded on them, stomping hard enough to leave massive imprints in the metal floor. “I don’t care what you’ve read, you have no idea what this feels like!”

Every word came out as an animalistic growl. Darcy shivered in fear. Jane shivered for a whole other reason.

“I don’t think this is working,” she muttered to Darcy.

“Got any better ideas?”

“Just one,” Jane smiled and licked her lips, “but I get the tasty one.”

“You get the whatnow?”

Vampires were very fast. And very strong. Maybe not quite at supersoldierwerewolf (weresupersoldier?) level, but Bucky definitely did not expect her to leap clear over the twelve-foot glass wall and tackle him to the ground. He went down easily and didn’t resist when Jane licked him from neck to ear. She grinned at him, fangs flashing. He growled again.

“I knew there was something up with you.”

“Oh yeah?”

She pulled him into a kiss which immediately turned far too R-rated to watch, and Darcy took that as her cue to grab Steve and get the hell out of dodge.

They went through the locker room, Steve gagging at the intense odors he couldn’t block out. Darcy guided him to her and Jane’s apartment. By then, he’d relaxed enough that his claws retracted and his eyes returned to their normal (if still magical in Darcy’s opinion) blue hue.

“Okay, we’re good,” she said. He shuffled to the couch while Darcy made him a quick sandwich. She piled on meat and a few vegetables to keep it balanced. Everything a growing wolfman needed.

“We’re not good,” Steve mumbled, staring at his hands. “Is this going to keep happening?”

“For a little while,” Darcy admitted. “I know it’s hard, but I promise it’ll get easier. What you and Bucky are going through right now, they’re just growing pains. This time next month, you’ll be completely settled and out hunting fresh deer in between punching bad guys.”

He put his head in his hands and Darcy stopped talking. She considered putting a ‘shut up’ spell on herself, but that might be taking it too far.

“So… always had a feeling about Jane and Bucky, you know? They seemed like perfect halves.”

“She had fangs.”

“Yeah, she’s a vampire. Technically, it’s not a secret, but Jane’s kind of private and no one ever asks, so it doesn’t come up.”

“She’s a vampire, Buck and I are werewolves,” he stared at her, “so what are you?”

“A witch,” she said. “Not a great witch, mind you, but you know, a witch.”

She swirled her hand to create sparks. It was a good trick for little kids, not so much for grown men in the middle of lycanthropic turmoil.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “I guess it could be worse. Now at least I know I’m not losing it.”

Darcy took his hand, ignoring for the moment how big it was and how good those callouses felt against her soft flesh. “You’re going to get through this, okay? Both of you. I’m with you every step of the way. I can introduce you to older werewolves who can show you the ropes or make a potion to ease you into the transition, whatever you need.”

“What if we don’t come back from it?”

“You will,” Darcy scooted closer. “Come on, you guys are way too tough for that. Everything you’ve survived, a little werewolf bite is nothing.”

Steve smiled, which had to be a good sign. “I like your optimism.”

“Thank you, I do try.”

“Think you and I could be perfect halves?”

Darcy choked. The question, while unexpected, was not out of nowhere. Not for her anyway. “I.. well, we’re only just getting to know each other. Hard to tell just yet, but I mean… I mean maybe. You never know…”

“Sorry if that’s too much,” he said like he could smell the combination of anxiety and desire welling up in her chest, and he probably could, “but I wouldn’t mind if we were.”

They had a quick meal (quick for Steve being the sandwich followed by two more) and Steve got the first good night’s sleep he’d had in weeks thanks to one of Darcy’s sleeping draughts. Bucky and Jane were back the next morning, just roughed up enough that Darcy neither had to ask what they’d been doing nor wanted to.

“Glad you’re here,” Darcy sang. “I’m ordering pizza later with a side of B positive for you, Jane. We’ve got a whole twelve hours to get through before the moon comes out.”

“Good. I’m taking a nap.” Jane dragged Bucky into the bedroom with her, but from the lack of noise that followed, she really did mean sleeping.

“Thanks for this,” Steve said as Darcy handed him a stack of pancakes. “Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“So don’t,” Darcy replied. “I want to help. I may not be the best witch ever, but I can be the best buddy in the world.”

Steve dropped his plate on the table, and right when it looked like he’d dig in without another word, he leaned over to peck Darcy on the lips, a tiny growl reverberating in his chest like he’d just marked her as his.

“Still gonna thank you,” he whispered.

Expectation: Keep her head down and be just another face in the crowd among the heroes.

Reality: ...pretty freaking great right now.

#Steve Rogers #Darcy Lewis #witches #vampires #werewolves #ShieldShock

[charmingdissonance]

It Always Comes Back to Chips

My first Doctor Who fanfic that I’m ‘publishing’. A little nervous to put it out there, but hopefully someone enjoys it. I just like writing blurbs about my OTP because they are amazing. If you’re so inclined, let me know what you think? <3

The psychic paper had led him to exactly here and there wasn’t a soul in sight. He followed the coordinates and found himself in the middle of London 2014, standing in front of the exact chippy he had visited with her all those years ago. Their first date. They had chips, her treat. His hearts clenched as he remembered, his face contorting into an awful grimace, like there was a bad taste in his mouth. And something certainly had left a bad taste.

He walked away from the chippy, absently kicking at a rock, scuffing his trainer on the pavement. He slumped onto a nearby bench, too distracted to notice anyone there. He sighed heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair. Five years. It had been five years since he left her on that beach with his double, the metacrisis Doctor. He thought he was being the bigger man, giving Rose the life she wanted. Him and the slow path all in one. But he had been a coward, too afraid to face his feelings. Too afraid to hold on to her tight to only lose her to time and age one day. Humans wither and die,he had told her. She had promised him forever, but he rejected it. He really had just wanted her to be happy, and that resulted in his misery.

Maybe it was a false alarm. A wrong number of sorts?  Or maybe he was just subconsciously torturing himself by visiting their old haunts. Either way, he wasn't happy about it. He sighed again audibly.

“Chip for your thoughts?” A female voice came out of nowhere, startling him a little. Not much feeling up to talking, he shook his head and gave her a sideways glance.

“Nah, thanks anyway. Bit too complicated to just-” he began, but found himself stopped mid-sentence. As he turned to gaze upon her properly, her features began to register. He knew that face, that smile.

“But...what?! How...what??” he cried, clearly in shock.

She reached out tentatively, her hand shaking as she touched his cheek, gently caressing her thumb over it. His eyes drank her in like a dying man finally reaching water. She still looked the same. Her hair was a bit darker, but still blonde. More natural. It fell in long waves, the way it was when she didn't blow dry it.  And she wore less makeup. But her smile could still outshine a million suns, and those eyes. Those warm brown pools that were flecked by tiny bits of gold. He fell into them, drowning in their familiar beauty.

“Rose,” he whispered, nuzzling his scruffy cheek against her impossibly soft touch. “How?”

She looked around a bit, withdrawing from him, and shook her head. Standing up suddenly and looking down at him.

“Not here. Can we go to her?” She held her hand out to him and immediately he took it, lacing his fingers with hers, nodding dumbly.

They hurried to the TARDIS, hand in hand just as they always had. It felt so natural, so right. Oh how he had missed this! When they arrived at the familiar blue box, Rose turned to him excitedly.

“Could I…?” she asked, tilting her head toward the ship's door.

For the first time he beamed at her, nodding. She gave a little giggle, her excitement contagious. She pulled her TARDIS key from beneath her shirt, just as she had always kept it. Close to her heart, as she had once told him. Rose turned her key slowly and slowly pushed open the door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside and was greeted with glowing lights and a distinctly happy hum coming from the ship. Rose rushed up the ramp and hugged one of the coral struts. Then she rushed toward the center of the control room.

“Oh hello you darling, gorgeous girl! I've missed you so” Rose cooed as she circled the console, stroking its surface lovingly. The ship responded in kind, clearly just as happy to see Rose. She turned sharply and looked at the Doctor beaming.

“She's as wonderful as ever!”

The Doctor watched as Rose got reacquainted with the ship, grinning brightly, hands in pockets. It really was a glorious sight to see- Rose Tyler back in the TARDIS.

“Well, very clearly, she is very happy to see you...speaking of which, so am I. But I still can't help but wonder how and why you're here.”

His expression had sobered and he was starting at her intently. Taking another deep breath, Rose walked toward the Doctor. Slowly she brought up her gaze to meet his.

“I guess I have a bit of explaining to do, yeah?” Her tone was soft, and the Doctor could sense she was holding back a great deal of emotion.

He smiled gently, then tugging on his ear. “Wellllllll, maybe just a bit, yeah. Might be nice. Mind if I launch us Vortex for a bit of privacy?” He raised his eyebrows in question, approaching the console.

Rose's widened as she nodded with great enthusiasm. “Oh yes, please do…”

He grinned at her again, doing his twists and turns and pulls of all the proper knobs and levers, and then looked up at her, eyeing the final switch and nodded. She giggled gleefully, sporting that tongue in teeth grin as she threw the dematerialization switch, sending them spinning into the Vortex. Rose laughed loudly as it made that familiar old wheezing sound that was distinct to only the TARDIS.

Once they were safe and sound in the Vortex, they each took a seat in the galley and settled down for a much needed talk. The Doctor had brewed some tea and handed Rose a cup.

“First of all, I suppose I should tell you it's been a long time since for me. Things changed in Pete's world,” she said.

Rose began to explain how a major asteroid collision had tilted Earth on its axis and caused time to move at a different rate. After several natural disasters, and a lot of recovery and aid work for damaged areas, they began to notice the passage of time had changed.  She talked about years of working for Torchwood and then as an independent intergalactic negotiator. The Doctor was puzzled by all of this.

“How long has it been, Rose?” he asked, eyebrows knitted together. She looked at him, her eyes filled with sadness.

“It's been nearly 40 years for me, Doctor.”

He gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words. He was trying to show some measure of tact, but that was difficult where he was concerned.

“What about...him?” he blurted out. She stared at him for a moment then smiled sadly.

“Jon. Jonathan Noble, proper. Though everyone still called him Doctor. Died in the line of duty. Fifteen years ago. There were hostile Baldatheons and he took a shot to the heart. He died protecting me.”

His face fell and he reached out to her, taking her hands in his. “Oh Rose, I'm so so sorry.”

“Thank you, really. It was difficult, but time heals, as they say. I’ll always have him in my heart, and I will always miss him,” she said fondly. And then she stopped to look up at the Doctor again. “ He made me promise to come and find you if anything ever happened to him.”

"My poor Rose, you've lost so much. I'm so so sorry," he said sadly.

Her eyes were glassy with tears as she squeezed his hands in return, letting loose a deep sigh. His words were real and sincere. He hated to think of her having to go through losing him...losing Jon. The very thought of her dying was enough to stop his hearts. To have gone through that, to see someone you love die before your eyes, that was a pain no one should have to bear.

Rose went on and talked about her parents and how she had lost them over time. Pete had a heart attack at 75 and her mother succumbed to cancer when she was 82. That left her little brother, who was a grown man by this time, with a family of his own. Something else struck the Doctor suddenly and he stared at her in silence for a moment, surveying her features. She hadn’t aged a day. Rose scowled and sighed.

“So you noticed, then,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“That you haven’t aged since the last time I saw you. Yu-p,” he said, popping his “p” distinctly.

Rose nodded and swallowed hard. “Jon did extensive tests, found out that I seemed to have developed superhuman status of sorts. Human plus, he called it. I have a superior immune system, heal almost instantly, and don’t age like a normal human. Don’t have laser eyes or anything, though,” she said with a half laugh, trying to lighten the mood. The Doctor didn’t laugh.

“But how…?” he stammered. And then it hit him. “Bad Wolf.”

Rose nodded solemnly. “Seems she did everything she could to make sure I ended up right back here in the end.”

She explained how she had eventually acquired a dimension cannon and decided to take a chance to see if it would work for her at least one last time. After some research and months of trying, she finally managed to get through the void and to their home universe.

“Did it come out in Norway again?” he asked, remembering Dårlig Ulv-Stranden and that last day he saw her.

She laughed a little. “Nope,” she said popping her “p” in return. “The rift in Cardiff. There’s an even bigger on in the Cardiff there! Didn’t think of that until I attempted the jump about thirty times. And just so happens my hunch was right!”

The Doctor grinned and laughed. “Rose Tyler, you’re brilliant you are.”  

She smiled back at him. They held their gaze for a long time before breaking eye contact, each blushing a little. It hadn’t quite sunk in that they were in the same room, let alone the same universe. He was still in utter disbelief. Rose Tyler was right here, with him. His precious pink and yellow human. They talked for awhile more, catching up on miscellaneous areas of their respective lives. The conversation was friendly, casual, but far too detatched for the Doctor’s liking.

Rose was holding back. Then he realized. She didn’t intend on staying. This was just a one off thing, and then she would be gone again. No...no! He couldn’t stand the thought of that. It wasn’t fair… he had waited. It was their turn, dammit! For once he wanted to be the selfish one. He wanted to be with Rose!

His hearts began to race and his blood pressure rose. He became visibly flustered, pushing his hand through his hand and rubbing the back of his neck. Rose watched him fidgeting,  her brow furrowed and eyes filled with question.

“ Doctor, ‘s something wrong?” she asked, her voice filled with concern as she reached out to touch his hand. And then her expression shifted, as if she suddenly understood something.

“Is it your companion? Or friend, rather? Is someone waiting on you? Though, I know time machine and all, but if I took you away from something important, I’m so so sorry!” she said, standing, and now looking a little flustered herself.

He blinked at her dumbly, not saying a word, completely confused by what she was saying. Rose mistook his silence to mean something else all together.

“Or...oh God...you’re with someone, aren’t you? And here I just show up out of nowhere after years, just expecting…” she stammered, now losing some of the firm grip she had had on her emotions. Her words made the Doctor’s ears perk.

“Just expecting what?” he asked eagerly, standing now.

She slowly raised her eyes and met his stare. “To come back.”

“Do you want to come back?” he asked, his hearts pounding in his ears.

She held his gaze. “Yes. But do you want me back?”

His expression softened. “Oh yes!”

She broke into the biggest smile he had ever seen. Then in that instant he  closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her off her feet and holding her to him. Rose returned his embraced with equal gusto, clinging to him as tears slid down her cheeks. When he finally put her down, they stood face to face, arms still around each other. He rest his forehead against hers and looked deep into her eyes.

“And Rose...so you know.. There was never anyone else. You know about everyone I traveled with. But there was never anyone that could replace  you,” he said softly, bringing a hand to her cheek.

“Doctor... no matter what has happened, no matter where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, I never stopped loving you. And I don’t regret my time with Jon. He was an amazing man and I loved him. But I never stopped loving you,” she admitted, teary eyed. Then she gave a watery laugh. “Though ya did right piss me off. No leaving me behind this time, yeah?”

He pulled her in closer to him, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. “Never again, Rose Tyler. Never again.”

She went to say something but before she could  get a word out, his lips were on hers. His kiss was gentle, but urgent, his lips caressing hers as he tried to express all the love and adoration he felt. She stiffened at first, but then reciprocated in full, meeting his kiss with equal abandon. He deepened the kiss, his hands braced on her back. She clung to him, her body molded to his. They continued that way for some time before they both came up for air.

That night when they retired, it was together in his bed. They laid together quietly, exchanging soft kisses mixed with gentle caresses. Finally, after all this time, they were together. The Doctor and Rose Tyler, on the TARDIS. Stuff of legend. Just as it should be.

#ficandchips #doctor who #ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #fanfiction #otp #ten and rose

[chanzicoup]

“Brother Zone” (NCT Lucas x Reader)

A/N: I was originally going to mix two requests together but that plan fell trough so pretty soon there is going to be another Lucas imagine XD

Count: 1.6k

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Warning: None

~blake

Lucas stares at you on the other side of the room from his table, his left hand holding his head up and the other picking at his food. He and NCT were eating in the food court of SM and it just so happens that you were doing the same with your own members. He was three years your senior, meaning you weren't of legal age yet.  He didn't mean to feel the way he did towards you, it just happened. He was twenty and you were seventeen. But when you are nineteen he'll be twenty-two. Twenty-five and twenty-eight. Fifty and fifty-three.

Before he was your protector, he gave you advice about being famous, helped you work out, make sure you were eating enough when you dieted, but now he didn't know what he was anymore. He felt like a lovesick puppy. Not wanting to damage the current relationship between you two, he hid his feelings so well that he didn't even realize them until recently. He thinks it was when he caught you crying in your practice room that he realized he loved you. You'd gotten off of the phone with your mother, who was the most against you wanting to be an idol. She deg rated you, insulted your talents and your existence, when she said she wished she'd stopped having children after your older sister, who is a cardiovascular surgeon and mother of three kids with a wealthy husband who is a CEO of some company, you hung up and cried into your palms. She knew right where to hurt you and them rubbed salt into the wound. Why would a mother hate her daughter so much?

It was like Lucas was psychic because he wasn't planning on visiting you but his gut told him to, and for good reason.  He comforted you, wrapped your small frame in his embrace, and kissed your forehead when you fell asleep. Exhaustion took over after sobbing for so long. Since then he was at your side, holding your hand through crowds, escorting you home after rehearsals. All of it because he wanted to, not because there was pressure for him to do so. He wanted nothing in return from you for his behavior. After all, he thought you liked Jeno and knew he shouldn't become too involved with your life. You were classmates with Jeno as well as under the same company, so of course you were close friends. Friends was all you two were and you wouldn't have it any other way. Not only that, but you had just debuted and Lucas didn't want to ruin that for you with something as trivial as hi feelings.

You didn't like Jeno that way, but you did have a crush on the cute older boy that treated you like a princess. That's right, you and Lucas love each other but are not making advances out of fear. Love is a scary thing for the both of you.

"Hyung just ask her out already." Mark said from under his breath to Lucas. Mark wasn't blind but apparently everyone else was. He was the first and only one to notice the two's affection for each other but he didn't want to intervene since it was something he felt that they had to do themselves. A little push here and there couldn't hurt anyone, which is the thought he had when he made it a personal goal to get them together.

"Shut up. I can't just do that. She's just a kid."

"She's three years younger than you, she's not a child. If anything she's more of an adult than you are." He chuckled, making Lucas roll his eyes and take a bite of rice and vegetables.

"Still, she doesn't feel the same. She basically sees me as an older brother since she doesn't have one." Lucas tried to say truthfully without his heart aching. Then he glanced back at you and saw that you and Jeno were shoving each others arms jokingly. He'd give the world to have that be him next to you.

"That's where you're wrong man, she sees almost all of the male idols here as brothers. But you're different. Gosh the both of you are so stubborn." Mark meant to say the last part under his breath but Lucas heard him enough to spark some interest. "What do you mean the both of us?"

'Does she like me back?' Lucas thought.

Before Mark could speak Jeno came out of the lunch line and sat next to you instead of his own table with his group members. You and Jeno had planned on working on a paper together at lunch when you guys weren't in school to collaborate. Your own group members shuffled away to keep their conversation from distracting you. Lucas was the only one to realize how close Jeno was. He leaned into your side every time you talked to hear you better and you did the same to him. Every so often one of you would crack a joke and the other would laugh, making it seem like flirting. Lucas got up from his table and went to throw his food away, he wasn't hungry anymore. Mark knew it took a lot to make the foodie that is Lucas lose his appetite, he was head over heels for you and you didn't see it at all.

As you sat with Jeno, copying his notes you've missed while you were out of school yesterday for a photo shoot, you saw Lucas leaving. He looked upset and he had a full plate he was trowing away. Something was up and you and Jeno knew it well. "I'll check on him." You said, closing your notebook and getting up from your seat. You'd followed Lucas out of the cafeteria and into a part of the SM building you've never really been too. It had to have been the area the male idols rehearse since there were posters of them decorating the halls. Your side of the building was the same, only with girl groups' posters instead. No one was around, all busy eating or doing their schedules, so there was no one else but the man in front of you to hear the conversation.

"Lucas! Wait up!" You said, jogging to stand next to him. He tried to walk faster and began to ignore you, but you stood in front of him and stopped abruptly. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing, I'm just tired." He said, shaking his head and waving you off before shoving past you. He was never like this. Even if he was in a bad mood you always had managed to cheer him up. You weren't going to quit that easily, grabbing his wrist you tried to stop him but he yanked himself away from you and stood to look you in the eyes.

"Just leave me alone." Lucas spat. His voice came out more as an annoyed growl. Immediately, you blamed yourself and thought he was annoyed at you for being there.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you when you want to be alone." You bowed respectfully and walked away. Tears formed in your eyes, you had made the one person you cherished the most upset. Even if he was mad before you came around, you only made things worse. He tried to call after you, not meaning to have been as rude as he was, but you ran off. If you talked you knew you'd crack and it'll be obvious you're crying. There was a family bathroom on the corner that you hid in after hearing Lucas' footsteps around you. You'd never been here before, there was one sink, toilet, and fold out changing table; a fake potted plant decorating the corner. "Quaint." It was.

"Y/N! Please don't go." Lucas' voice was right outside of the bathroom, as if he was on the other since of the door. He knew he was wrong and went around to look for you, but when he saw the hallway was empty he lost all hope. To himself, he muttered, "I love you." Out of shock, you creaked the bathroom door open, wiping your eyes before doing so. That was the last thing Lucas was expecting when he said those words, but that didn't matter in the moment Lucas pushed you back into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He said while he put you in a bone crushing hug. 

"Lucas I-"

"Please know that I wasn't mad at you." He put his hand in your hair.

"It's really-"

"No it's not alright you didn't do anything wrong and I yelled at you and-" You stopped him from blabbering, something he does when he's nervous, with a kiss. It took him a few seconds to kiss back but when he did he  wrapped his arms securely around your waist as your found their way around his neck. His grip on you tightened but not in a painful manner, more like he never wanted to let you go.

"I love you." You broke the kiss for only one second to speak and went right back to it. Lucas pulled away, cupped your cheeks and kissed each of them as well as your forehead.

"We really are dumb. Mark was right." Lucas whispered as he grabbed your hands with a smile.

"Mark knows about this?" You asked with raised eyebrows. Lucas stammered and ran out of the bathroom, you chasing after him and calling him a punk. He may be a punk, but he's your punk.

#kpop #nct #nct imagine #nct reaction #nct scenario #kpop imagine #kpop reaction #kpop scenario #nct lucas

[heroes-hq-blog1]

SPECTRE IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› AHN SUNGJIN › 18 YEARS OLD › PSIONIC ENERGY MANIPULATION › NEW TO THE ACADEMY

POWER

psionic energy manipulation — sungjin is gifted with the ability to create, shape, and manipulate psionic energy produced by the mind. the boy being able to wield it even in its most physical forms. sungjin’s powers manifest in a glowing red mist.

STRENGTHS psi-energy influence  —  by channelling and manipulating psi energy in any shape or form, he is able to gain influence and control over its physical form. some basic uses of it are psionic energy attacks in the form of blasts, beams, bolts, and the like. also, not to forget his favorite application, psychokinetic influence where he is able to shape psionic energy around matter and control its movement. this is where sungjin is most trained and experienced in. psi-energy flyrogenesis  — a defensive ability wherein he can generate a shield of psionic energy to protect him and others from external, physical harm. psi-reading  — everyone has their own unique psionic energy in them and sungjin found that he is able to feel them – sometimes it’s a smell, sometimes it’s a color. they’re so individual, he, himself, can’t describe how they feel for certain, he just knows they’re there. when he knows the person very well and has been with them for long, he’ll be able to figure out who they are just by the feeling of their psionic energy. with the help of his brother he was able to develop this and is able to read someone’s current thoughts by letting his hand/s hover around 5 inches away or closer from its subject and draw out their psionic energy. psychic shield  — due to the boy’s subconscious desires to be guarded and closed off from most, if not all people, his psionic energy was able to cocoon his mental self and become resistant to mental intrusion. psi-phoning (LOCKED)  — the boy is able to draw out psionic energy from his subject (as long as it is capable of thinking) and use it for his own. psi-crippling (LOCKED)  — by manipulating his subject’s psyche sungjin is able to elicit fear or emotional pain in form of nightmarish like hallucinations that could stun or cripple an enemy. these hallucinations appear as the subjects fears, regrets, or general disturbances, however the nature of it is not up to the boy. just like the subject sungjin can see and feel what they feel which can render him stunned and disturbed as well.

WEAKNESSES

sungjin’s powers greatly depends on his mental strength and mental state as well. if he pushes himself over the edge it could cause him physical and mental backlash (e.g. being knock back in result of impact, nose bleeds, headaches, and fainting). if the boy mental state isn’t in good condition he could easily lose control over it and not just harm himself but those around him as well.

the gifted boy’s hands play a huge role in directing the flow of psionic energy. if his hands were bounded or restrained in a way that prohibits him from moving them at all, renders the boy useless and unable to use his powers.

there are no distinguishable limits for time, weight, and intensity as it purely depends on how the variables act upon one another.  sungjin can hold a full glass of water with ease for a long period of time as long as he focuses, however trying to lifting a car for a mere few seconds can definitely make him crack from strain.

sungjin can direct psionic energy as long as it is in his clear line of sight. sungjin needs to focus and know where he plans on directing his powers. his offensive attacks however are more potent the closer the opponent is. around the 500 ft mark, his attacks could still pack quite a punch but more than that it would noticeably be weaker. the farther the attack travels the lower the damage.

psionic energy barriers can only take as much damage as sungjin’s mental strength can bear. pushing himself over the these limits can give him specific backlash and render him unconscious.

smaller barriers can take considerable more damage than larger barriers.

currently he can only psi-read a subject by letting his hands hover over their head at a maximum distance of 5 inches or closer. any farther than that and their current thoughts will be unaudible.

the boy cannot read more than one subject at a time. even if he tried it would be useless as thoughts overlap and are even more difficult to understand as it is.

sungjin’s not completely immune to intrusion of the mind, the intruder will just need to exert more effort than normal for them to reach into the boy.

siphoning psionic energy from another subject can be quite dangerous as sungjin can take every last bit of psionic energy from them and leave none left for them rendering them in an unconscious state or worse in a coma. also another thing to note is how sungjin can only hold on to a different source psychic energy for a few seconds. doing so over the limit can result in an explosive blacklash of psionic energy.

when psi-crippling, sungjin has no control of what the subject sees. he can only trigger them but the nature of these hallucinations are decided by the subject (their fears, regrets, general disturbances etc.)

though he can choose whether or not to see what the subject sees. he cannot avoid to feel what they feel. great mental strength is needed as he can easily fall into shock if he isn’t strong enough.

ORIGINS

trigger warning for suicide, death, torture, and child abuse.

tw: abuse, hints of bullying, kidnap, assault, suicide

on the first page of a black, well-loved journal:

“to minnie”

“if found, please immediately return to ahn sungjin”

(the boy often writes on his journal and below are some of the important excerpts that serve as a window into the boy’s life)

mirror;

remember the monsters you were scared of minnie? the monsters you swore that lived inside our closet?

well, my eyes caught a glimpse of its very own reflection, today.

a monster who was coloured in hues of blues and purples, a monster who screeched in a deafening cry for help yet no sound was heard, a monster who was starting to fall apart in its seams beyond tired to try and put itself back together.

i wish you were here minnie. who’s going to stop the punches dad throws? who’s going to tend to the cuts and bruises? who was going to put hyung back together now?

i’m scared minnie.

i’m scared because the more i look in the mirror, the more i tell myself, the more i ask myself –

i’m not me, who are you?

hellevator;

have you been able to see mom minnie? is she proud of me, just as much as you were?

i guess not, especially if she saw you. knowing what i’ve done.

i wish i could be with you guys instead, it would probably be much better there with both of you than here. at least there, maybe i’d be met with laughter, hugs, and kisses – here it’s all just been curses, punches, and aches.

i don’t blame dad though, i deserve it. i deserve it all, all the stabbing words, all the fists thrown, all the pain that fills me up.

now that you’re not here.

there’s nothing for me, nobody really cares about me.

maze of memories;

i dreamt of you again, no, not a dream, it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare – a nightmare of that night.

it was so vivid, as if i was there, reliving it again.

the tight rope wrapped on chairs that bounded our hands. the darkness that was brought by the blindfolds around our heads. the writhing pain all over our bodies as they beat us to a pulp.

but you know what felt the most real? when i felt you take a huge blow to the head then nothing, emptiness. i couldn’t feel you anymore, i couldn’t hear you anymore in my head.

i wake up after seeing bright red and i just hug myself, crying.

what kind of brother am i? why couldn’t i protect you?  how could i do this to you?

The inside of my mind burns and fills up with question marks that blame me.

m.i.a;

i miss you minnie. i miss you so much.

dad misses you too.

he thinks of you fondly, loudly even. he tells me you were smart, you were good-looking, you were his true heir – you were just great in everything you did minnie. he tells me that he loved you so much, tells me that you were his favorite, tells me that it should’ve been me on the hospital bed instead.

i couldn’t agree more minnie, i’m sorry for what happened, i should’ve protected you. it was my fault, it should’ve been the bad seed, it should have been the disappointment, it should’ve been me instead.

ah i’m crying again, but really when have i not?

i miss the little squeak in your voice when you get excited, i miss your hugs that keep me warm when i couldn’t sleep, i miss you telling me:

“take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff.”

insomnia;

i can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard i try. this will be one of those nights where i sneak into your bed minnie. you’d open your arms immediately to hold me, without hesitation and any hint of anger for waking you up, then you’d sing me to sleep. those nights were just the best nights of sleep i ever could have.

funny how i’m 7 minutes older yet i am the baby between us haha should i start calling you hyung, minnie?

i’m trying to sing that song now as i hug myself to sleep tonight but it’s not the same.

when the dark night makes everyone sleep, when they fall asleep i can’t sleep because of so many thoughts.

voices;

minnie i’m starting to believe them.

what have i done?

i should just end it all, give in, just as they say i should.

i’m starting to believe that i really did that to you. that i’m a bad twin, that i’m a murderer, that i’m a monster. i’m starting to believe everyone around me. there’s so many voices, i promise i’ve been trying to shut them out. tonight, however, it’s not working.

i can’t hear your voice anymore minnie, your voice that tells me to ignore the others inside my head. these voices, they’re just so many…

at some point, i only started to hear these nagging sounds.

my side;

it’s been a few years since that night, it’s been a few years since you’ve left me alone.

i hope you can feel me right now, my hand holding yours tight. i feel you minnie, i feel you there. i just wish i knew what to do so i can wake you up from this deep, deep slumber.

you know a strange person came up to me the other day. told me there’s a place for people like me. told me i could hone my powers there. i’ve been thinking about it nonstop. maybe there i can find a way to wake you up. maybe there i can find a way for you to come back.

a part of me wants to go, but a part of me wants to stay here holding your hand.

no matter what my decision may be, please bare this in mind minnie,

even if i’m not there, i’ll stay by your side

4419;

minnie, i’m at the back of the bus we always ride to get home. we had so much memories on this bus, didn’t we? can you believe that after all this time, our names that we wrote with that cheap marker is still here crystal clear?

oh, you’re probably wondering where i’m off to huh?

remember that place? the place for people like me? i’m on my way there now to get settled. i just hope everyone’s nice. you’ve always been the better one when it comes to people.

i’ve never seen dad so happy minnie, that was a first ever since… ugh i shouldn’t be thinking about that…

anyway, dad was so happy minnie ‘cause finally he got rid of me. about time, he said. don’t worry minnie, i’m not sad. just like you said “take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff”.

so i am. i will be better, i promise to do my best for you minnie. i promise with my whole heart, i will find a way to get you back.

someday, again at the same place, i dream we will meet again.

#hq:accepted #yang jeongin #stray kids

[sanjuno]

I'm interested in that idea you mentioned where the Vongola brothers thaw Xanxus, pack up their followers, and go to Japan. (Tsuna getting four older brothers would be awesome.)

*slams back onto the blog* MY INTERNET IS BACK AND SANJUNO IS ONLINE AGAIN, BITCHES!

I call this one FIRE SHALL WAKEN and I straight up admit that I did not expect this much of a plot for something that was essentially an offhand comment I made because I thought it was funny but oh well.

Let’s begin!

So sixteen year old Xanxus discovers that he’s “adopted” before Enrico gets fatally shot in the back but instead of going to talk to his brothers he still goes through with the Cradle Affair tantrum.

>Enrico, Mas, and Fede are confined to the Iron Fort by Coyote because of paranoia about the Varia being more loyal to Xanxus than the Vongola overall.

>Squalo is bereaved because his Sky is frozen solid and proceeds to lose it on Enrico when confronted about why Xanxus went bonkers and now Enrico knows everything.

Enrico, of course, proceeds to tell Mas and Fede why Xanxus tried to kill Nono dead.

>Fede points out how interesting it is that Xanxus waited until all of his brothers were outside the Iron Fort before attacking.

>Enrico points out that Xan had been noticeably avoiding Nono but hadn’t cut his brothers out of his life.

>Mas digs up the security footage and notices that Xanxus said many nasty things about Nono but didn’t so much as mention his brothers during his ranting. (My how interesting…)

Enrico proceeds to move into the Iron Fort to “help Papa out” which translated into actual intent means “scope out the security system with an eye for breaking it and locate Xan’s iceberg.”

>Mas moves into the Varia mansion to “keep an eye on things”

>Fede invades the CEDEF on the regular to find out what they know and also to sow confusion because fuck you Nono is why

Consequences are suffered by those who took action without thinking! 

>Enrico also gets an up-close view of Nono’s bullshit in action, which he never saw in canon because it was never pointed out so blatantly until Nono (i) lied about matters of succession and (ii) froze Enrico’s littlest brother in ice.

>Mas gets to conspire with the Varia and has tons of fun pretending to be thick while plotting the demise of his enemies.

>Fede undermines Iemitsu in the CEDEF without actually joining that branch because Mas is the one who wanted to play spy games for a living and Fede is much better suited to being the Family troubleshooter. Also Mas and Fede poach several CEDEF agents because Sky Attraction and Iemitsu Doesn’t Deserve Nice Things bwahahaha~

Shortly after Nono’s sons finish “establishing order” after the Cradle Affair Nono and Iemitsu go on a trip to Japan (we all know what happens here) except this time:

>(i) Fede is keeping a close enough eye on the CEDEF to discover what the purpose behind the trip was and (ii) the Bros di Vongola are making plans to rescue their baby brother and leave the Vongola hanging without any Heirs at all because Nono certainly doesn’t care about the succession so why should they?

Instead of possessing people to arrange the deaths of the 10th Gen Vongola Heirs, Daemon Spade’s ghost is very much in favour of the boys rejecting their father because anarchy and Fuck Them All Very Much

>Daemon doesn’t approve of Nono, so the more the bros work against Nono the more Daemon likes them. The irony of them all packing up and moving to Japan to force Nono to clean up his own fucking mess is too brilliant to sabotage. He needs to know how this ends.

It takes two years for everything to be in place for the 10th Gen migration. Many changes from canon occur during this time.

(i) Enrico finally tracks down Xan’s Mama and Harmonizes her as his Mist.

>Goes to the Falco Heir’s piano recital and bonds Bianche as his Storm. Is horrified by Hayato’s treatment and frequent poisonings, draws emotionally driven parallels between Hayato’s treatment and Xanuxs’, and intercepts Hayato’s first attempt to run away to take Hayato in as his ward.

>Manages to Harmonize with Lal as his Rain over the course of several meetings with Fede for information exchanges.

>Visits the Bovino and finds Ottavia to be his Lightning, and she brings newborn Lambo with her because her sister died.

>Snags M.M. to be his Sun out of Paris’ Underworld Theatre District before she crosses the line and is arrested by the Vindice. (He’s there on business but yay new Element!)

>Enrico is somewhat disturbed by how much younger than him his Storm and Sun are and hopes that his Cloud will be closer to his own age or older.

(ii) Mas met Sparta (the OC I have as his Cloud) in his last year of the Mafia Academy. She gets along well with the Varia.

>Mas is being very careful and low-key about Courting Oregano and Tumeric into his Harmony because Iemitsu is a giant bag of dicks and also a toxic influence.

>Moretti the Murdered is Mas’ Mist and it’s hilarious because the Varia are So Offended.

Fede’s Lightning is Romeo Bovino who is ultimately distracted by finding HIS SKY!!!! and entirely forgets to flirt with Bianchi and thus survives yay

>Runs into Lancia while out shopping with Hayato and his Intuition says “Look it’s your Storm” and also Hayato is a vicious little savage who charms Mukuro and Co. and can sympathize with their experiences re. being tortured by your family. Frequent interaction with the Varia gives Mukuro and Co.s vengeance drive a constructive outlet so they don’t murderspree their way into Vindicare and also the plan to abscond will leave the Vongola Alliance in shambles and Mukuro wants to see that. So. Let’s be friends!

>Fede picks up Basil as his Rain while stalking the CEDEF because Iemitsu doesn’t deserve to have such a cute little minion and also the family resemblance is pretty obvious even if the kid isn’t a Sky.

>Accidentally Harmonizes Shamal as his Mist while tracking down Hayato and Bianchi’s medical records and lambasts Shamal for not treating Hayato’s poison damage just because he’s a boy (you irresponsible asshole) Shamal spends a significant amount of time repenting for that bullshit because Fede’s Not Having It.

Despite all the Harmonizing happening Nono continues to believe that the men he assigned to his sons are their actual Guardians.

>The bros let Nono think this because it a good distraction tactic and it gives them a guaranteed way to feed Nono misinformation about what they’re up to.

Two years is a long enough time for people to start noticing the shenanigans but the bros are good at being sneaky and also they all have Mists so good fucking luck getting a clear picture of what they’re getting up to. Then Nono goes to an Alliance Boss meting at Mafia Land and takes Iemitsu with him which means now’s our chance.

>As soon as Nono’s plane takes off the 10th gen defrosts Xan, rolls him into a blanket burrito, shoves him at his very confused Guardians, and packs the entirety of the Varia plus the Vongola 10th Gen’s personal following into a series of transport containers and take off for Japan.

>Enrico shoots Ottavio in the head execution style with one of Daniela’s crossbows before they leave because “fuck you, traitor” is why.

The Alliance is shook.

>Dino is still in training with Reborn (being around 16 or 17) and is high-key jealous that his Vongola counterparts got to fuck off and ditch their inheritance. Romario’s the one who digs up the old Tradition about “escaping” the Mafia by moving to Japan (which also includes a kind of “diplomatic immunity” agreement with the yakuza.) Dino wants to go to Japan too T-T

MEANWHILE IN JAPAN

>Xanxus is really fucking confused right now okay this is not how he was expecting his confrontation with Nono over his heritage to shake out (His bros picked Xanxus over Nono WTF)

>The Varia are honestly just happy to have their Sky back they don’t even care about technically being in hiding.

The Vongola 10th Gen buys a Japanese Mansion in Namimori and happily settle in.

>Of course their first order of business is to go see their baby cousin~ because “fuck you, Iemtisu, answer your wife’s phone calls” is why and also they need to get that Seal off Tsuna and also, also it’ll give Hayato, Mukuro, and co. a local guide in Namimori.

>Of course, the second Enrico peels the Seal off Tsuna’s Flames the kid goes into HDWM and Harmonizes with Hayato and Mukuro on reflex and also Hyper Intuition.

Nana is over the moon because her baby boy has friends now and also she 100% takes over as the 10th Gen’s Head of Housekeeping and before anyone really has time to think about it Nana and Tsuna have moved into the mansion

>Please take a moment to consider the repercussions of having five active Skies living in a single house who all love each other and want their family to be happy. The Harmony effect is soporific, wide spread, pervasive, and Namimori is a happy, peaceful town.

Hayato is once again Tsuna’s Right Hand but this time it’s Mukuro who is the Left Hand and the chaos is beautiful.

>TBH the way a less traumatized Hayato and a more rational Mukuro mesh and work together is surprisingly functional and cooperative. Also I’m pretty sure that the first thing they do is go track down Nagi for kidnapping purposes because of psychic links and Harmony is helpful for strengthening things like that.

>Which means that Chrome doesn’t get squished by a truck! Yay! Yes, they still change her name. It’s so her parents can’t find her neener-neener

Hayato and Mukuro are little assholes and are Not Pleased by the way Tsuna has been and is still being treated at school. They proceed to concoct a multi-layered, three tiered plan to take vengeance in Tsuna’s name. There are several lists, charts, graphs, and at least one Venn Diagram because Mukuro is artistic like that.

>Kyouya is angry at first because his territory but then notices how the herbivores have started to behave themselves and that means more time for uninterrupted naps and that’s beautiful. Tetsuya is torn between elation and terror because on one hand Kyou-san has friends but on the other, far more traumatizing to the citizenry hand they’re all amoral bloodthirsty monsters.

>Anyway Kyouya founds the DC, Mukuro sets up an informant network, and Hayato takes over the student council.

Tsuyoshi isn’t sure what to make of the Sudden Assassin Migration into Namimori but at least the Sword Emperor is too distracted by his Sky being on bedrest to be hunting down retired Swordsmen.

>Tsuyoshi should maybe think about starting Takeshi’s sword training because Tsuna’s gone and made friends with Takeshi now that he’s unSealed (Fuck Everything Tsuyoshi doesn’t deserve this sort of stress)

TBH Ken probably joins the Boxing Club and Ryohei’s so happy to the extreme.

>Kyoko will join the Mist Collective in Managing Everyone’s Lives because she’s nonviolent and also a bit of an emotional manipulator. Hana is the DC Secretary and gets along far too well with Hibari-sempai for anyones comfort.

>I honestly have no real idea what Haru is up to in this AU but she probably takes over Midori and has a very loudly dramatic rivalry with Hayato for brain-crush reasons.

Chikusa is getting roped in as Hayato’s VP and they rule Namimori Elementary with decidedly Iron Fists. With spikes on.

>TBH the fact that Tsuna becomes the Chairman of the Home Ec Club is the Best Thing because Tsuna loves his Mama and he’s only fifth in line to inherit still so he can do whatever he wants and that means fluffy homemaker comfort Sky who cheers on his Guardian’s shenanigans instead of a panicked stressed out punching bag.

>Tsuna’s favourite Vongola Head is the Fourth because FORKS! and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

TBH I have NO IDEA how long it takes Nono to find Ottavio’s body but it’s probably really gross by then because Italy’s a hot country and also between them Enrico and Mas and Fede stole all of the CEDEF’s upper management and Iemtisu is pants at sorting paperwork.

>Then there’s panic and anarchy and very strained Alliance politics until Reborn finishes training Dino and then Reborn is sent to Namimori to train the “last” Vongola heir only to find the entire Vongola 10th Gen

>Be aware that at no point did the Varia stop taking missions which drives the 9th Gen into frothing fits because they still can’t find where they’re hiding.

This time when Tsuna says he doesn’t want to be a Mafia Boss the actual heir is still alive, sitting right beside Tsuna at the table, and is laughing at Reborn.

>Enrico straight up tells Reborn not to waste his time and that when Nono dies/retires he’ll take the Rings but not a moment before then.

>Nono forced their hands when he lied to Xan, left him for dead in the ice, and tried to force his sons to accept ill-suited Guardians without ever admitting he’d fucked up or done something wrong.

>Oh yeah, Xan needed to be revived when Enrico defrosted him it was a damn good thing all three of his bros were there to help with that and GUESS WHAT HE DID TO TSUNAYOSHI?

Dino shows up and well now the Alliance knows where the Vongola 10th Gen are hiding out.

>Drama, politicking, shenanigans, IDEK at this point I mostly just want to see the FSW!AU Tsuna and co. get dragged into a canon!TYL adventure because that shit’s hilarious and is also an entirely new story all on it’s own if I want to handle it right.

>Because there’s no Varia Arc, although if Iemitsu shows up he’s gonna be hella surprised when the “weaker” Skies kick the shit out of him because the Vongola Bros have real bonds now plus their Five Sky Harmony and shit’s insane, friends.

Shit with the Arcobaleno will go down at some point and by now I’ve internalized a preference for Reborn being Aria’s Sun Guardian because “I’m my daughter’s Sun” is a glorious clusterfuck of pun combined with a Dad joke and Reborn would revel in that so much.

>Skull is Fede’s Cloud, which is fabulous and a match made with the intent of making the world a more interesting place and also I may indulge in my secret love for Reborn/Skull in this verse because Aria’s going to marry Fede. XP

>Consiquently, Verde is Mas’ Lightning, Collonello is Enrico’s Second Rain, Mammon is (of course) Xan’s Mist, and Fon’s going to be Tsuna’s Second Storm.

I kinda wanna see Spanner be Byakuran’s Lightning in this verse because reasons but also I think I’m done for the night.

Yay. XP

#Sanjuno talks back #fic I haven't written yet #fire shall waken #KHR Fanfic

[starr234]

Fic: Once a Jedi Master

Spoilers I guess, but I mentioned in this post that I had some thoughts about that scene with Luke and the stupid Force ghost (trying to be vague here for people who haven’t seen it yet), plus I was feeling pretty crummy about Luke’s whole character arc in general.  So I rewrote the scene with the character I actually wanted Luke to be talking to as a way to make myself feel better about this whole thing.  I dashed this out quickly after work today and haven’t really proofread it or edited it in any real way, so apologies for any mistakes or clunkiness.  I just needed some catharsis.  

Luke Skywalker, once a Jedi Master and now nobody, marched steadily towards the tree and the ancient Jedi texts within.

It was time.  It had been time for ages, but he’d been too tired to anything before.  But now, with everything coming to a head faster than he could comprehend – the dark, the light, Rey From Nowhere, his nephew – it was time to end this once and for all. To leave the Jedi to the past, where they belonged.  To leave himself to the past, and let the past die.

He flicked his wrist and the torch ignited.

A voice from behind him stopped him in his tracks.  “Keep a safe distance after the fire starts.  That tree is overflowing with energy.  She’ll go sky high once the flames hit her.”

Luke spun around. A man stood a few steps down the path, roughly his age, with a careworn face and dark blonde hair streaked with grey – but tidier than Luke’s own – brushing the collar of his Jedi robes. The man – apparition, really, bathed in the blue glow of the Force as he was – shrugged apologetically.  “Speaking from experience, fire is not a pleasant way to go.”

Luke stepped closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion.  The face was almost familiar, although he was sure he’d never seen it before.  But the eyes –

He’d only looked on them once, but he would never forget those eyes.

“Father?”

Anakin Skywalker smiled, still looking apologetic, and nodded.

The torch dropped from Luke’s hand.  The flame sputtered out as it bounced down the pathway and right through Anakin, who watched it pass through him with far too much good humor for Luke’s taste.

In those first few years after the second Death Star, when they’d beaten back the Empire and rebuilt the Republic system by stem, he’d longed for the chance to speak to his father again.  People were looking to him as a Jedi hero and he’d had no idea what he was doing – still didn’t, really.  He’d needed guidance and as an orphan who’d had his father back for mere minutes before losing him again, Luke had wanted that guidance to come from his father.  He wanted to believe that they were still connected, that he wasn’t really gone.  That nobody you loved was ever really gone.  

And then later, as he’d sensed the darkness in Ben steadily rising, he’d so badly needed to talk to someone who had been through it, someone who had once been a boy struggling with unimaginable powers and uncontrollable anger and had been failed by the people who were supposed to protect him.  He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong and how he could help the child Leia had entrusted to him when the boy already seemed so hopelessly lost.

But his father had never come.  And now he was here and all of Luke’s forgotten dreams from his youth were coming true, and what was the point?  It was too late for his father to help him, too late for either of them to make any sort of a difference.

“What do you want, Father?”

“First, to stop you from dying in a massive explosion.”

“You’re not here to stop me from destroying the texts?”

Anakin smirked. “As you may have noticed, I was not particularly good at being a Jedi.  Those books have no value to you or to me.  If you wish to destroy them, do so.  All I ask is that you do it safely.”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “I’ll be fine.”  He started towards his father and the torch lying behind him.

“On second thought,” Anakin said, almost to himself.  He waved a hand absentmindedly towards the tree—

--and a bolt of lightning arced from the sky directly into its branches.

As far away as he was, the explosion was still strong enough to knock Luke off his feet.  He lay on his back for a moment, blinking up at the cloudless sky, then rolled onto an elbow and looked up at his father. “I guess you weren’t kidding about the tree going sky high.”

Anakin settled onto a boulder next to where Luke lay on the stone pathway.  “Indeed not.”

Luke pushed himself up to lean against the boulder with a groan.  “So, is that it?  You didn’t come here just to talk about fire safety, did you?”

“I thought,” Anakin said after a pause, “circumstances as they are, that you might need your father.”

Luke laughed harshly. “Is that what you thought?  It’s been thirty years.  What about all the other times I needed you?”

Anakin sighed, and for a split-second Luke was struck with how strange it must have been for his father to be able to breathe (and wondered simultaneously if Anakin was really breathing at all, if he even had a corporeal form or if this was just how Luke was seeing him in this moment).  “It is more difficult for me to come out of the Force into the physical world than it is for others, given my history.  I have felt when you’ve needed me and I wanted to come every time, but was never able to. But rest assured, my son, I have been watching you since I last laid eyes on you.  And I am very proud of you.”

“Why?” Luke said, his voice catching as he ran a hand through his tangled mop of hair.  “What could you possibly be proud of?  All I’ve done is fail.”

“So did I, Luke. I failed you, and I failed your sister, and I failed your mother.  And I failed myself.  You gave me the strength to do what I could to make things right.  I wanted to do the same for you, if I could.”

“But it’s too late.” Luke shook his head, his voice hollow. “I can’t make anything right, not anymore.”

“It’s never too late. All you can do is try.  That is what always made me so proud.  No matter what trials you faced, you never stopped trying and you never lost faith.  Until now.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Luke asked.  He felt shallow, like he would soon drift off into the Force until there was nothing left of him.  “What else is left to have faith in?”

Anakin stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back onto his elbows.  “You were right, you know.”

Luke blinked at the sudden change in subject.  “When?”

“When you told that girl – Rey From Nowhere – that the light and the energy don’t belong to the Jedi. You were right.  That light belongs to all of us.  It belonged to me even when I was shrouded in darkness, and it belongs to you even now.”  He sat up, leaned forward and placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder.  A shudder passed through Luke at the contact.  His father’s hand had no weight, but he could feel the touch – physically and psychically – all the same.  “You have borne the burden of your past alone for so long, Luke.  You don’t need to.  Let the light back in.  Let it lift you up and bear you back to those who love you.”

Luke bowed his head and closed his eyes, swallowing back the shame welling up in him.  “How can I go back?  How can I face Leia after what I did to her son?”

“Her son made his own choices, just as I did.  Understand your place in those choices, but never take responsibility for his actions. That said, you face Leia as you always have – as her brother.  She will forgive you, just as you forgave me.”

“And then?  What then?”

“Then you move forward, learn from your past and start again.  It’s what I would have done, if I’d had the chance.”

Luke reached up and put his hand on his shoulder, over his father’s.  “I wish you’d had the chance.”

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, for all that the hand resting there wasn’t real.  “I would have liked to have been there for you, instead of watching from afar.  I have many regrets, but that is chief among them.”

“If I stay here,” Luke said, choosing his words carefully.  “I think I won’t be here much longer.  The Force is so strong here, I can feel myself becoming porous.  Soon, it’s going to be so easy to just let go.”  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the sudden sting of tears.  “We could be together then, like you always wanted us to be.”

His father took his hand from Luke’s shoulder, stepped off the boulder and around Luke to kneel in front of him.  He took hold of Luke’s shoulders and looked at him with kind eyes.  “When you come through, I will be waiting for you.  I have always been, and I always will be. But Luke, my son, you cannot leave your sister to carry on alone.  She has lost her son and her husband and she thinks you lost as well.  She needs you, Luke.  She needs your light.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” his father said.  He smiled, gently.  “But you don’t need to be.  The Force will be there for you, if you’ll let it.”

“But—”

“Close your eyes, Luke.”

Luke did so, feeling like a novice.  Maybe, despite all the years behind him, he was still a novice.

“Reach out with your feelings.  And breathe. Just reach out, and breathe.”

And for the first time in years, Luke did.  His chest hitched with a sob as the Force flooded back into him.  It was filled with his past deeds and his regrets and pain and fears, but as he focused on his breath and the steady presence of his father in front of him, and the whisper soft presence of his sister across the galaxy, all of the hurt melted away and the Force sang to him, clean and bright.

It sang to welcome him home.

“Father,” he whispered.

“I am so proud of you, my son.”  His father’s voice sounded distant.  “Never forget that.”

Luke opened his eyes. His father was gone, but his warm glow was still there inside Luke – and Leia was getting brighter by the second. He couldn’t ignore that anymore, even if he’d wanted to.

Luke Skywalker, once a Jedi Master and now a brother on his way back home, stood and marched steadily towards the beach. If the Force was with him, he could repair whatever damage the water had done to his submerged x-wing and get out of here. And if it wasn’t, he’d have to call Chewie back to pick him up.  Either way, it was time to go.

Hang on, Leia, he sent.  I’m coming.

#star wars #star wars fic #my fic #the last jedi #the last jedi spoilers #tlj spoilers #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker has a bad day #leia organa

[em-exceeds-change-zearu]

I’ve mentioned this a few times on plurk, but I personally actually like the 3rd season of 5D’s despite it’s weird turn into slice-of-life absurdity while the writers tried to figure their way around the plot rewrites mandated after executive meddling crashed down on them. Scenes like this crop up every now and then during the season which more or less imply that despite Neo Domino City and Satellite reuniting, things aren’t hunky-dory and wonderful like your generic shonen anime would do when rejoining two divided factions. No, there’s still dissent and the city is still not quite reunited despite whatever spiel they want to put about the WRGP being the celebration of the reunited city and the Daedalus Bridge being the symbol of that and etc etc etc. We see that with all these background details-from the three boys’ expenses almost constantly being in the red, to that one episode centered about a young man’s family being hounded by sleazy debt collectors despite them finally being Neo Domino’s citizens, and so on. The earlier filler episodes even have small bits that are intended to drop more plot hooks-Yusei and co go to get an old man out of the reconstruction sites in Satellite, they meet with Saiga at Martha’s and find out about the mysterious falling tablets; Yusei goes to settle issues at Duel Academia, Sly the student who has an unnatural interest in Stardust Dragon is introduced. Some plot hooks are used, some aren’t, but the fact of the matter is that there was some attempt to seed in plot through all the filler works. 

That being said, I feel like Season 3 would have been stronger if it was instead set during the 6 month timeskip between the Dark Signer arc and when actual! season 3 begins. Think about it. You have a grungy Satellite that crawled up to become the new King of Riding Duels under dubious circumstances (you can’t tell me people wouldn’t have questioned the validity of a duel that literally happened in a flash of light to everyone else), the former King who was recently revealed to be from Satellite and therefore a fraud, a completely markered up criminal, the Black Rose Witch, and a pair of twins who have largely been isolated from the outside world due to Ruka’s spiritual shenanigans. All of them don’t fit into Neo Domino’s social world at all, all of them are now trying to find their own place to fit in after being brought together by the Signer War, all they have at this point is each other. 

Give me Jack fighting for his reputation and his new identity, insisting on carving his own way to be the King while making himself open to the people-all of the people from Satellite and Neo Domino alike, the kind of King Carly wanted him to be. There's resistance of course-he's lost fans, there are people insisting he's a fraud, there are others who hate this new persona of Jack's because he is different and challenges their standards and flawed and human instead of an ideal and a figurehead, but he soldiers on, unrelenting. Give me Aki still struggling with the stigmas that being the Black Rose Witch put on her, trying to fit into a normal life as a senator’s daughter and not quite adjusting because whatever her parents feel now, that doesn’t change the fact that she spent her formative years emotionally and physically apart from them, that doesn’t change that the place she feels validated and loved was at the Arcadia Movement (and now, with her fellow Signers), and it doesn’t change that she sees hostility no matter where she goes. I think it was @stierhai that mentioned this idea of Aki taking over what was left of the Arcadia Movement, or at least working with all the psychics that were displaced by the movement’s collapse, some having been taken in under Security’s care and others roaming free, working with the internal politics and wresting them away from Divine’s influence and making it into what it should have been, a haven for psychics to learn their craft without being stigmatized (and making it her own “place” as a result). Give me the twins deciding to go back to school and make friends their own age, but finding it difficult due to their own reputation during the Fortune Cup and Ruka’s still admittedly weak physical ability, never mind that they’re also friends with the other Signers. Give me Crow reluctantly having to give his kids up to Martha-because with the Daedalus Bridge being built and the B.A.D. area being renovated, he just doesn’t have a place to live anymore and can’t get by thieving like he used to, struggling to make any kind of income because he’s got markers up the wazoo despite all his charges being cleared, having to deal with more stigma than his other friends (because at least Jack has two years of being beloved as the King and a fresh clean face to get by, and Yusei has the current title as King to deflect some hatred) to the point that it’s a wonder he’s able to hold down any job at all until he flat out decides to make his own business with nothing but his D-Wheel and a jacket with a hand-drawn logo on it from his kids.

Give me Yusei, who, despite being the protagonist of the series, actually steps back this arc and becomes more of a background character, a quiet thread of support that keeps all these oddball misfits together. Yusei, who by default is the only thing all the other Signers have in common, bringing them together until they end up as their own interconnected network. Jack and Aki, being used by Iliaster and Arcadia respectively, hunting down evidence of those opposing factions and their ideals and their plans, working together in public to tear down the conspiracies and dealings that built Neo Domino into the faux-utopia it became, with Yusei a quiet moderating force between their easily inflamed personalities. Aki and the twins bonding more as they try to attend the academia together, with Aki trying to help smooth things along for Ruka so she at least doesn’t have the same rocky environment in school that she did in her youth and Rua and Ruka being a supporting, healing place for her to go when school becomes too much (and please, please, let Aki take down Heitmann, she has more investment in this matter than Yusei does and it can help her reputation in the school as well). Crow being the fun big brother for the twins (Yusei is nice, but steady and a little distant, Jack admittedly bonds with Rua and sort of takes him on as an apprentice but he’s still raw and open and figuring out this New King stuff and can be hard to tolerate in large doses, and Aki is a good big sis but also has her own issues) and the twins being a rooting force for Crow-while they clearly don’t need to be taken of the same way his own kids were, they’re also lacking the care and doting affection of a parent that his own kids have, so he’ll take care of them in his own weird big brother way. Yusei, who sits back and helps to facilitate all this happening, because now he knows better than to just shoulder all their burdens himself, knows that it’s better to support and be supported, and while he still has his own doubts and fears about the city’s future and his place in it, he knows with them he can find an answer some day. 

Give me the results of this when they go into the WRGP together-still a team that’s not quite in harmony yet, but they’re trying. They lose against Team Unicorn the first round-because even though Yusei tries his damned best, he can’t make up for the mistakes they made and the quick eliminations of Jack and Aki that happened because of it. From this they learn what is needed-how to combine their unique abilites, and when a rematch happens (because this time Team Catastrophe’s failure does not set off Placido’s robo-army just yet, there’s still a chance that the Unicorn-5D’s rematch could result in the Signer’s elimination), it takes full advantage of the fact that the WRGP takes place all over the Daedalus Bridge’s duel lanes, and the fact that it happens with no autopilot. 

The rematch happens-and to Team Unicorn’s surprise, Aki is the first wheeler out. She deserves her chance to show her real skills after falling so quickly to Andre, where all she was able to do was pass on Stardust Dragon. A free wheeling chase across the Daimon Area happens-the alleys she knows better than anyone else, the alleys she prowled as the Black Rose Witch, the alleys that once cracked and split open at her call now neatly paved and pristine. Even as she calls out her plants and they bare their fangs, not a single brick is broken out of place, not a single street is damaged, because instead of rampaging and letting out all her sorrow she is determined to follow her new purpose now and show just what a Psychic Duelist can do other than spread fear. She evades all of Andre’s attempts to block her attacks, triumphant. 

The Second Wheeler? Crow, who takes off across the Daedalus Bridge’s roads with glee at being able to freely cross the divide between Satellite and Neo Domino, who leaps from Duel Lane to Duel Lane with the wings of the BlackBird, and who can easily power through Breo’s deck destruction with a surefire kill thanks to all the cards that got sent to the graveyard (because if there’s a master of someone using things discarded like trash, it’s someone from the deepest depths of Satellite). Crow, who can finally enter a tournament like the WRGP and show everyone from Neo Domino just what he’s made of, and finally, finally get a reputation beyond the few people who willingly take his house calls, and create his first stepping stone to bigger and greater things. 

The Last Wheeler is not Yusei, but Jack, who leads Jean on a drive all around the newly reconstructed Satellite, his knowledge of just where every building is and where reconstruction is still going giving him the edge when it comes to dealing with no autopilot. Jack showboating like usual-driving up buildings, turning backwards, but all being done just to show off how well he knows Satellite, how much of his skills are real without using autopilot, and just how much growing up there has shaped his dueling and who he is today. (Because who knows the deepest depths of Satellite better than the duel gang who took over it all, who roamed every inch of turf and claimed it as theirs, who powered through every single adversary in their path because their strength was absolute!) 

Team 5D’s wins, and not because Yusei was the savior who dragged them all to victory, but instead because they bonded together into something stronger, something who could effortlessly tear apart a team who bested them when they were fragmented and still not quite together, because they made the field into something that demonstrated their own strengths, their weaknesses, their pasts, and their dreams for the future. 

just. god. give me a season 3 like that. pls. god. if only we could have had this.

#5d's #a '5d's au where post' brought to you by gale #ygo 5d's #yugioh 5ds #gale shitposting #[SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] #WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAAAAALLLLLL #long post #anyway that wa a long rant