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tommyspeakycap · 3 years ago

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request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team #england national team imagine #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics

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infiniteiram · 3 years ago

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I Think You’re In My Seat.

a vds one shot. you can find more on my ao3.

( @ apolloswords )

feel free to comment/message me any suggestions for one shot ideas!

Unfortunately, the airlines messed up the seating arrangement and Jens is forced to sit on his own. Fortunately, someone else's seating arrangement was also messed up.

"Bad news," Moyo announced as Jens followed closely behind him. "They messed up our seats."

"What?" exclaimed Sander, giving the both of them a puzzled look. "How did they manage to do that?"

"The system completely messed up everyone's seats." Jens explained. "So, since we checked in late, we basically got the scraps. Which means, there is a very slim chance we're all stuck together." He reached over and flicked the back of Aaron's head. "I told you if you showered in the morning we would be late."

"I didn't expect you guys to show up so early." He groaned. "I wasn't even awake yet."

Jens snorted. "Well, you know we still had to take the train. Bottom line is, we can thank you for the shitty seats."

"But, not so shitty." Moyo added. He began to pass the new tickets around, the ones with the new seat number on them. "Robbe, Sander, we managed to snag you the last two seats together. Kind of at the front."

"You are a miracle worker." Sander laughed as he patted Moyo's shoulder. "What about you guys? Where are you guys sitting?"

"Jens has a window seat near the middle of the plane, I'm a few rows behind him and Aaron has a seat at the very back of the plane." Moyo continued on. "And no Aaron, we are not switching."

"Oh come on, it's going to take forever for me to get out. And I'm going to be near the bathrooms, I better not see Sander and Robbe going in at the same time."

Robbe blushed and hid his face into Sander's shoulder. "I don't think we're that promiscuous."

Sander only snorted. "Maybe it'll be revenge on Aaron for making us late."

"Hey, Moyo got you guys sitting together, why're you complaining?"

The rising teasing between his friends seemed to be getting louder, but Jens let their conversation fade around him. He was distracted by the bustle of the airport, people of all ages rushing around. The start of the summer months was probably a busy time for this place, and as much as he loved and adored Belgium, it felt nice to be headed somewhere else.

His eyes wandered among the crowd of people. Giggling kids with their decorated backpacks, business executives looking rather posh in their work attire with a cup of coffee in their hands and other older adults double-checking their bags for their passport and boarding passes. But his eyes only lead him somewhere else.

A few feet away were a group of three boys his age. One of them was leaned against the wall, his dark long curls giving contrast to his light brown skin. He was smiling at the guy to his right, who was sitting on top of a small carry-on luggage with a bright yellow backpack on. This boy also had dark hair, though it was cut short and just barely touched the tips of his ear, where a dangly earring hung. But the boy who really caught his attention was standing on an angle in front of them. From Jens' perspective, he could make out the sharpness of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose and a small smile on his delicate pink lips. His light brown curls hung quite effortless in front of his face, and the denim jacket he had on fit his body nicely. Jens discreetly eyed him up and down, and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body. He'd never been the type to admire strangers from afar, let alone be completely smitten over one.

But that was exactly what he was feeling right now.

His daydreaming was quickly interrupted by a sharp jab into his ribs. Wincing, he gave Aaron a glare.

"What was that for?"

"Moyo said you were staring too long. I asked what you were staring at and he told me just to ask you." Aaron responded rather innocently before shrugging his shoulders. "So what were you staring at?'

Feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, Jens bit his lip and pretended he had no idea what Aaron was talking about. "Nothing that concerns you." He mumbled out, looking down at his feet.

He heard Moyo snicker from his other side. "Aaron, I don't think you're going to have to worry about just Sander and Robbe sneaking off to the bathroom."

Now Jens elbowed Moyo's ribs. Not as harshly as Aaron did, but harsh enough. Moyo laughed and held up his hands in defence. Both Sander and Robbe raised their brows at him, before trying to sneakily turn around to figure out what Jens was eyeing at. Who Jens was eyeing at. When they came face to face with the other trio, they snickered to themselves as Jens gave them a side eye.

"Damn Jens," Robbe teased. "Three options?"

"One." He admitted, mumbling again. "But I'm not saying which one."

"You know what would be extremely lucky." Sander teased. "If you ended up sitting beside him."

Jens felt his face go a bit more red but scoffed, trying to play it cool. "It's better than sitting beside Aaron."

"Hey!" Aaron protested.

"Now boarding flight 2121." The intercom announced above them.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Robbe and Sander smile softly at each other. He had no idea what the sentiment meant, but judging by the way they looked at each other, it had something to do with their little love story. Jens tried not to feel the way his heart stung suddenly. He would never admit it, but he envied the way all his friends were very content in a relationship but he was not. For the most part, he never felt left out- just, rather lonely. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he made sure both his passport and boarding pass were in his hand as he walked up to the flight information desk. The flight attendant smiled at him and ushered him off. Taking a deep breath, he trudged down the boarding bridge at a slower speed. He couldn't help but to also feel a tinge of disappointment. The boy in the denim jacket from earlier hadn't been sitting around their gate, and he hadn't seen him since him and his friends had wandered off twenty minutes ago. There was now exactly zero chance of scoring a seat beside him, even if his chances from before were still close to zero.

He felt Moyo slap his shoulder, which startled him a bit.

"See you in two hours." He remarked.

"I hope you seat mate is some old grandma who can't hear very well but insists on talking." Jens taunted playfully, as he found his seat. Slipping into the small aisle, he flopped down on the window seat and gave Moyo a handshake before he headed off.

"I hope I get a cute girl." Aaron remarked, as he slowly passed Jens' aisle.

Raising brow, Jens smirked. "How would Amber feel about that?"

"You're right. I hope I get the grandma." Aaron muttered while rolling his eyes.

Jens looked over the other seats as other passengers clambered about, stumbling into their seats or trying to put their carry on luggage up on the overhead storage. A few rows up stood Sander and Robbe, who waved at him before the settled into their seat. When he knew all of his friends were in their seats, he sighed heavily and placed his backpack underneath the seat above him. Tapping his fingers on the arm rest as he bounced his leg, he distracted the remaining minutes before takeoff by looking outside of his window.

Only to be interrupted less than two minutes after.

"I think you're in my seat." A voice with a slightly different accent announced.

Turning his head to face the person the voice belonged to, he felt his face heat up again.

It was the boy from earlier, the one in the denim jacket. Only this time, he was standing very close to Jens. He could now make out the silver rings on his finger, the way his jacket actually hung over more over his shoulders than he thought and the colour of his eyes. The vibrant blue that stared into his brown ones, its colour so bright that Jens didn't believe colour existed before this moment. Realizing he was probably gawking at him, Jens swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to conceal his mess of emotions.

"No? I'm pretty sure this is my seat."

The boy reached over, showing his boarding pass. Squinting a bit, Jens read the seat number and frowned.

"I think they double booked the seat." He stated, looking back up at the boy.

Shrugging, the boy just ran a hand through his curls and sat down. Jens was rather surprised at his chill and confident behaviour, which had him going through an even more internal mess of feelings.

Trying to avoid gazing at him for so long, Jens turned around and started biting the inner corner of his cheek. He suddenly felt very nervous that the boy was beside him now, and if he let his arm up on the armrest, there would be the slightest physical contact between them.

Coming down the aisle was the other two guys, the rest of his trio. The one with the dark curls wiggled his brows at him, only to be lightly smacked on the arm as he passed through. The other boy, the one with shorter hair and was now wearing sunglasses with red lenses, reached out to pinch his cheeks. The boy ducked swiftly and snorted, looking behind him as his friends sat down. Jens noticed that the other two were sitting in different aisles, just like him and the Broerrs.

"Did they fuck up your seats too?" Jens asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Yeah, clearly." He laughed lightly, before fully turning his head to face Jens. "I'm Lucas."

"Jens." He nodded before trying to give him a small smile. It wasn't that smiling at him was an issue, Jens just didn't want to make it so obvious that his slight crush was growing by the second.

Fortunately, Lucas smiled back. "Are you travelling alone?"

"No, my friends are scattered about as well. That's how I figured the airline must have also messed up your seats up as well."

Laughing lightly, Lucas shook his head, his curls gently moving about. "I figured they messed up after seeing someone else in my seat. I just hope I'm not stealing someone else's."

"I don't think so. I think you and your friends were the last ones to board. See? They're closing up the doors now."

Lucas wasn't as tall as Jens, so he couldn't see above the seats. He put his hands on the armrest and lifted himself up a bit. The slight brush of his fingers just barely grazing over Jens' hoodie sleeve was enough to send sparks through his body. The very slight contact had his face turning pink again, and he needed to calm down before Lucas noticed.

"You're right." He agreed, bringing himself back down. "To be honest, I thought they would close the plane before we got on. It's a miracle I'm here right now."

"Why's that?"

"My friend Jayden, he's back there with his red glasses, decided to be an idiot and lose his passport somewhere in the airport. We came from a connecting flight from Amsterdam, so at least it's not there."

"I get that, my friend Aaron also decided to be an idiot. He woke up late which lead us to checking in late, which lead us to shitty seats and being separated." Jens added, before biting his lip. "So, you're from Amsterdam?"

"Not quite. Utrecht, but the closest airport is Amsterdam. So, to get to Rome, we needed a connecting flight." He explained, before tilting his head a bit. "Are you from Brussels?"

"Not quite." Jens repeated, laughing a bit. "Antwerp. We're actually much closer to each other than we would've been."

"Yet we meet on a flight to another country." Lucas remarked, a glint sparkling in his blue eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the departure to Rome, Italy." An attendant called over the intercom.

The plane began to move beneath them and Jens double checked that his seatbelt was on. The attendants began to do the safety instructions in front of them, and Jens turned his head to look back out the window. After a few minutes, his instincts told him to look at Lucas, who hadn't said anything since the departing announcement.

Poor Lucas was squeezing his fists so hard that his knuckles were white and his face was drained of colour. The slight pink of his cheeks were gone and he was squeezing his eyes shut, taking in deep breathes to calm himself down. Jens widened his eyes, internally panicking as he had no idea what to do.

Reaching out slowly and slightly, he put a warm hand on top of one of Lucas' fists. The skin beneath his own was ice cold, and Lucas opened his eyes quickly, surprised to see that Jens was looking at him.

"Nervous flyer?" Jens asked lightly, but softly enough to be comforting.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, can you tell?"

"Just a little." He paused, unsure how to go about this. "Do you, uhh, do you maybe want to hold my hand?"

"May I?"

"Of course."

It took Lucas a second. But after feeling the plane begin to move faster as it lifted off the runway, he unclenched a fist and grabbed onto Jens' hand. His tight grip should have also cut off Jens' circulation, but Jens stayed calm. He let his thumb rub gently circles on top of Lucas' hand, trying to ease him a bit. After a few moments, he felt Lucas' grip loosen a bit, some warmth beneath their hands and Lucas' breathing being a little less restrained. Lucas' eyes were still closed, and Jens eyed him up and down, taking in the entire wonder of this boy.

This boy, who he realized, was holding his hand.

Of course, the intention was innocent. But Jens suddenly felt his heart race as he continued to let his touch calm Lucas down a bit. He couldn't believe he was holding his hand and if any of his friends knew, he would never hear the end of their teasing. When the plane was soaring through the sky at a steady pace, Lucas sighed heavily and fluttered his eyes open. After a few seconds in which he recollected himself, he turned to Jens and gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks, sorry, I didn't think I'd get so nervous. I was fine on my first flight, but to be fair I'm really tired. I didn't sleep much last night."

"It's okay." Jens smiled back, reassuring him. He noticed the way Lucas still hadn't let go of his hand, and he was just fine with that. "Do you always get nervous when you fly?"

"Mostly, yes. But not like, that bad. Except for now. I think I lost all feeling in my body."

"Probably helps if you actually sit by someone you know huh?" He joked.

Smiling a little wider, Lucas huffed out another nervous laugh. Though this time, it felt a bit lighter. "Yeah, but, it also helps to have someone like you to sit by."

"Someone like me?" Jens asked, unsure what the ambiguity of the statement meant.

Lucas only shrugged, giving him a grin before adding another rather vague statement. "Yeah, someone like you."

And for the second time today, Jens couldn't believe his luck. After about an hour into the flight, in where him and Lucas had quickly gotten comfortable with each other, Lucas had dozed off. Jens had recalled he was feeling a little tired, but as Lucas fell into a gentle slumber, his head slowly fell onto his shoulder. Lucas, being asleep, obviously didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but Jens couldn't help but feel so giddy. He didn't want to move however, because there was no way he was going to wake Lucas up and ruin this.

So, he aimlessly looked out the window and began to think. He couldn't help but feel like he had missed a chance with this boy when they parted ways after the next hour. But, he didn't know if it was too forward of him to ask for some kind of contact with him. To be fair, they had already held hands so the next natural step in this equation was to somehow get his number.

Feeling Lucas stir gently, he looked down at him. The light brown curls fell over his face gently and Jens could make out the small freckles over his nose and his eyelashes mimicking rays of sunlight as his beautiful blue eyes stayed hidden. Jens didn't know how someone could've been so beautiful, let alone be so close to him.

He truly felt like the luckiest person in the entire world.

"Sorry," Lucas mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

Smiling down at him, Jens reached out to just squeeze his hand again. When they had let go of his hand, Jens tried to conceal his frown. So now, he used this as a gateway to have Lucas' hand back in his. He also liked how Lucas did't remove his head from his shoulder right away.

"It's okay. I don't mind."

He felt Lucas hum against his body, before letting out a loose giggle. "So, what are you heading to Rome for?"

"Just a trip, a quick one to start of the summer and what not. You?"

"The same." Lucas let his eyes look back up at Jens, and once again he was marvelled at the sight of them. "That's kind of a good coincidence."

"Or you know," Jens shrugged, looking away for a second. "Fate."

"Fate?"

"I mean, out of all the seats here, what were the chances you would be sitting by me? Or, let alone, having the same seat as me?"

Lucas grinned, the blue in his eyes clashing together as they became a mess of bright shades. "Seems just like a really good coincidence. Do you believe it that sort of stuff?"

"Fate?"

"Yeah."

For the second time, Jens repeated his shrug. "Sure, why not? It's kind of like, everything happens for a reason. What about you?"

"Do I believe in fate?"

"Yeah, or are you sticking to everything being a coincidence?"

"Mostly coincidence. Though, I am starting to think a little bit of all this might be fate?"

"Why's that?"

A familiar glint sparkled in Lucas' eyes again, as he let himself gaze at Jens above him. There was something knowing about the smile on his face, but Jens couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I was going to fly out to Italy two weeks ago." Lucas began to say. "But Kes, my other friend here, had to renew his passport so we pushed our departure back. It kind of sucked at first, but not anymore."

"Sucks a little less?" Jens teased, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiled widely.

"Definitely sucks a little less."

Both boys stood at the baggage claim. When Jens had gotten off the plane, all his friends had given him a suspicious look as the boy they had seen him admiring was suddenly following him. He had to give them credit for not saying much, as he didn't want to be embarrassed before he could even ask for his number. Aaron, and Lucas' two friends, Kes and Jayden, were still making their way towards the baggage claim. Sitting at the back of the plane was probably not idea, but it gave Jens some time with Lucas.

They got their luggage and Jens saw the other two guys, followed by Aaron, head over. Frowning slightly, he was sad to realize that Lucas and him would part ways and they would be nothing more than two random strangers who managed to sit beside each other on the plane. They weren't even from the same country, and he doubted that the universe would allow him to be this lucky again.

"Lucas!" The boy with red glasses called out, who Jens assumed was Jayden. "Who's your friend?"

"Jayden, Kes, this is Jens. Jens, meet Jayden and Kes." He introduced. "I told him I needed new friends who weren't idiots."

"Just friends?" Kes asked, raising his brows and for the first time, Lucas blushed so hard he turned pink. It made Jens smirk, amused at his reaction.

"Jens!" Aaron called out. "Who's your friend?"

Now it was time for Jens to introduce Lucas to the Broerrs. Turning around, he saw Moyo, Sander and Robbe heading towards him. When they reached him, they stood beside him, all three of them smiling widely as the smirked at the very small distance between him and Lucas.

Coughing awkwardly, Jens bounced his leg. "Luc, meet Moyo, Sander, Robbe and Aaron. Guys, meet Lucas. I met him on the plane."

"And you didn't go to the bathroom?" Aaron piped up and Jens reached behind Lucas and quickly swatted the back of Aaron's head. Aaron winced as the rest of the guys continued their smirking.

"So, where in Rome are you staying?" asked Robbe, and Jens was thankful for the opening normalcy of a new conversation.

"I forget the name, but it's like, a quick shuttle ride from here? Napoleon or something." Kes replied.

"No way?" Moyo exclaimed. "Napoleon Hotel Roma?"

"Uhm yes?" Lucas replied, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Moyo clapped Jens' chest, startling him with his excitement. "Dude, that's the one we're staying at! Did you not know that?"

"Honestly, the hotel didn't even come up in our conversation." Jens admitted.

"Well come on!" Jayden exclaimed, calling then out to follow him. "We can all head to the shuttle and get there together. How long are you guys staying in Rome for?"

"Two weeks." Sander responded, wiggling two of his fingers up.

"No way! So are we!" Kes said in surprise.

Jens looked at Lucas, who was still blushing and giggle beside him. The rest of the guys had started to follow Jayden's lead, but Jens let himself bask in Lucas' company for a few more seconds. Lucas looked up to meet his eyes, a happy grin plastered on his face.

"So, is your opinion still changing?" Jens asked, wiggling his brows.

"What?"

"Do you still think this is a big coincidence?"

"A little bit." Lucas shrugged, his grin growing wider as he took in the way Jens was looking down and smiling at him. "But, I think I'd like to think that this is definitely fate."

"And I'm pretty sure that's exactly it."

"So is this fate Jens? Were we meant to meet right here, right now?"

"I think that's what was supposed to happen. I was meant to meet someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone like you."

And with that, they followed their friends towards the airport shuttle. Jens didn't know what the rest of the trip, the rest of the summer, meant for him, but that was okay. Because when he looked down, he smiled as Lucas shyly slipped his hand into his and intertwined their fingers together. Lucas pretended he hadn't reached out for him, but Jens felt his hand squeeze against his as he repeated the circular motions with his thumb on top of his hand. They didn't have to say anything, but it was clear they were thinking the exact same thing.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason.

#vds #van der stoffels #vds fic #vds one shot #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #wtfock #skam nl #one shot #ao3 #ao3fic #airplane #airports #this was lowkey rushed and i was exhausted writing it #so i hope it's a little coherent

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danwhobrowses · 3 years ago

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One Piece Chapter 1032 - Initial Thoughts

Well that week break was a sneaky one, but we're back for the chapter that preludes the anime's 1000th episode

With Sanji finding new resolve we've begun anew with that fight, but focus will likely shift elsewhere. Let's get down to business

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

Yamato cover this time, delivering goods to an old lady with some cats

Marco's carrying Izo at their behest to kick off, Marco admitting he's injured while Izo wants to investigate the 'fire yokai'

Flying away from Big Mom, several of Kaido's forces are trying to fight to get in, not for battle but to avoid the fire

Back to the Yamato chase and Apoo is still being a sneaky one

Looks like Fuga's friends with Yamato, and he only chased Yamato to catch up

But it is fortunate, because Fuga's big hair allows a soft landing for Robin and Brook

CP0 have followed up though, charging down at their target

The duo have resorted to fight but then they see behind CP0 Kazenbo

Damn, Kanjuro just kinda protected Robin inadvertently, burning the CP0 members alive

Wait it can pass through walls as well? Feel like that could've been more useful...give Usopp Kanjuro's fruit! He's an artist and he could do wonders

Yamato connects the dots though with Kazenbo going for the armoury, and calls on Fuga for assistance

Graceful landing for Brook as well XD

Apoo's quick to get the pics of CP0 though - who are just confirming that the fire theme of Onigashima's raid isn't as damaging as real fire should be - which is a bad move

Blackmailing secret agents with freedom to kill? Silly Apoo

White Eye just ups and Shigan's Apoo's neck, before reminding Drake that he knows that he's a spy too

Drake however seems to be ready to spill CP0's presence too (well, he already did but CP0 don't know that it seems) so White Eye goes to silence him

Apoo's still alive! With a blindside boom, turns out he used haki just in time

So now Apoo and Drake are working together to fight CP0!

Back to Zoro vs King and it's for our regular dosage of 'THAT'S NOT HOW DINOSAURS WORK ODA!' as King ELASTICS HIS FACE to attack Zoro with his beak...

Oda is just trolling us at this point but now I'm curious at what dinosaurs were actually like in One Piece (other than the Little Garden dinosaurs who are completely fucking normal)

Being outdoors, King is able to keep his distance from Zoro, but he does give away that his fire is not a part of his Devil Fruit

Zoro tries a Great Dragon Twister, but King tanks it by hiding under his wings, making Zoro conclude that he's like a dragon in regards to thick defences

King, craving a good fight, reverts to human for some sword combat as Zoro runs down the information he has on King internally; wings not yet used, no signs of blood, and the fire

When deliberating his race though King muscles Zoro into the wall, flooring him as he lay exhausted, realising that his chances of winning are slim when he knows so little about the enemy

In the distance though Zoro hears a shamisen, and Enma activates, beginning to drain his haki

Orochi also hears the shamisen too, and peers out to see what is causing it

And it's Hiyori, dressed as 'Komurasaki'

Oh she's a clever one, using his simpage to lure him towards her as plans of revenge close in

Admittedly there's a lot of set up here but it was still good set up nonetheless, I suppose Oda also didn't want to overshadow the announcement of the Shanks movie either (sounds like it could be a prequel story, or at the least a parallel story of Shanks' pirate career up to meeting Luffy or becoming a Yonko).

Back to the chapter though and it seems to have been split between 3 main subjects; first is the Kazenbo, its announcement has drawn Izo and Marco towards it, I'm unsure what Izo can do and given its path through the floors it's likely Izo will be nowhere near Kiku, Marco on the other hand does have the chance to tame fire thanks to his Devil Fruit. The Kazenbo also brings Yamato with Fuga - hopefully we'll get more explanation on that bond later - into more urgency than before, and it is likely that somehow the Kazenbo would have to be fought off: after all, Yamato and Brook both have ice powers, and Jimbei and Kawamatsu would also be useful here.

The Kazenbo plot opens up the second plot of CP0, now even less likely to capture Robin it puts them in direct arms with Apoo and Drake (notice how the other two Numbers haven't seemed to have followed Apoo?), the common goal seems to be exposing CP0 though I must admit it would've done absolute wonders if White Eye succeeded in killing Apoo, just to sell their danger a lot more, I mean they have shrugged off being singed alive and tanking an explosion but still, the longer they're in the fight the more time Robin and Brook have to get away, whether that battle gets interrupted though depends on the moving parts.

Finally we get more Zoro vs King's 'that's not how it works' session, at this point I'm expecting Kaido to do something ridiculous and say 'this is how dragons hunted in ancient times!' - but it is an interesting spot we have Zoro in; he's exhausted and on a time limit which is nothing new but there's rarely if ever been a point where we've seen Zoro think 'I can't beat them', and now that Enma is being triggered by Hiyori's song this can either make things worse or unintentionally give Zoro an in in regards to fighting the Lunarian.

As for the finale all we have to wonder is if Kanjuro informed Orochi that Komurasaki was Hiyori, it seems like he hasn't (of course he'd hide in the treasure room as well, Nami's gonna be wanting that) but the man is extremely paranoid, tread cautiously when enacting revenge.

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 14

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Forgot to post this last night, whoops, but in my defence I am absolutely drowning under uni work at the moment, so I’m quite surprised I even had the energy to proof read and post tonight...

<<<Chapter 13

The table was already piled high with steaming food when they entered the room, but Scott’s attention was more taken by the man sat at the head. Not-Dad caught his eye and gestured to the seat at his right. Scott hadn’t planned to sit near the man if he could help it, but it appeared the patriarch had other ideas.

Swallowing down his reluctance, he crossed the floor, greeting Mrs Tracy, who was attempting to set the table even as Tin-Tin tried to persuade her gently to take her own seat, and took the offered chair.

Steely grey eyes swept up and down his outfit, and Not-Dad’s mouth settled into a thin line, but much to Scott’s relief he didn’t comment. Not directly, at least.

“I see you had a successful trip,” he said. Scott shrugged.

“Fashion here’s different,” he said, glancing over as the rest of the family took their seats, Other-Virgil slipping in before Other-Kyrano finished bringing the food over to the table. “As you’ve no doubt noticed.”

“That I have,” Not-Dad agreed. “At least no-one outside of this organisation will be seeing you, so now you have your own clothes I suppose you can dress as you wish.” He still sounded somewhat dubious about it, but Scott would take what he could get.

“Those were my thoughts, too, Father,” Other-Scott joined in, from where he was sat a little way down the table between Other-Virgil and Mrs Tracy. “He might as well be comfortable while he’s here.”

“Indeed,” Not-Dad said. “I have informed some trusted friends of your predicament in the hopes of increasing our chances of getting you home, and locating anyone else who may have come through. I am sure their names will be familiar to you; as I recall, you mentioned a ‘Lady P’ earlier?”

Had he? Scott didn’t remember everything that he’d said to the man, but that seemed likely enough. He nodded.

“I assume that refers to our London agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward,” Not-Dad continued. “She has been made aware and intends to visit in the near future.”

Scott felt a flash of frustration that things were being organised over his head – or behind his back, maybe – but buried it deep with the reminder that here, he wasn’t Commander. He wasn’t anything, except someone in need of rescuing, and this man next to him was the man in charge of the organisation trying to get him home.

“Yeah, we have a Lady Penelope,” he confirmed. “And Parker?”

“A fine butler,” Not-Dad agreed.

Scott nodded awkwardly, a little unsure at the way Not-Dad’s first description for him was ‘butler’. It wasn’t inaccurate, but to him, Parker was so much more than just Lady Penelope’s butler, and he wasn’t sure if that was a relationship that had carried over.

Lady Penelope and Parker had been invaluable after the Zero-X, after all.

Scott cut that train of thought off out of habit before it could spiral too far. The last thing he needed to do was start crying about Dad while sat next to his doppelgänger in another universe.

He was saved from any further awkward conversation by Other-Kyrano announcing that the dinner was ready and inviting them to help themselves.

“Thank you, Kyrano,” Not-Dad said, before picking up a platter of carved meat and offering it to Scott. For his part, Scott was looking at the large, homemade spread and trying not to drool at the prospect of edible food.

“Thanks,” he said, helping himself to a few slices. That appeared to be the cue for everyone else to tuck in, and Scott found himself part of a full dining table for the first time in a long time. Other-John was absent, of course, no doubt squirrelled away on Thunderbird Five eating rehydrated food, and it was obvious that this Tracy family, too, had lost their mom, but with the Kyranos and even Other-Brains apparently resurfacing when he hadn’t been looking, not to mention Not-Dad, it felt like the sort of meal Scott hadn’t been able to have in eight years, and had thought he’d never have again.

He took a large bite of the food to stop his rising emotions overflowing. Other-Alan, sitting opposite him, shot him an unimpressed look but thankfully seemed too busy listening to Tin-Tin next to him to comment.

“Magnificent as always, Kyrano,” Not-Dad announced after a few moments, which seemed to be the cue for the rest of the family to interject with their own praise. Scott was more than happy to join in, which got several pairs of eyes on him, seeming like they were gauging how genuine he was. Only Tin-Tin had a knowing, and slightly sad, smile on her face.

“Say,” Other-Alan cut in, “how does this compare to what you normally eat? Our Kyrano’s the better cook, isn’t he?”

It was a loaded question, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alan, that’s enough of that,” Not-Dad said. “There’s to be no comparison of which universe is ‘better’, you hear me?”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Alan frowned. “But I can’t be the only one that wants to know what he really thinks of the food.”

“Alan!” Other-Scott added in, but Scott shrugged.

“It’s the best homemade meal I’ve had in years,” he said honestly, nodding at Other-Kyrano, who seemed flustered at the praise. “None of us can cook half as well back home.”

“Not even your Kyrano?” Other-Alan pressed, despite the sharp snap of his name from Not-Dad.

“Alan,” Tin-Tin interjected gently, putting a hand on his arm. He ignored her, too, and light blue eyes pinned Scott where he sat.

Scott took another mouthful of the mouth-wateringly good food and swallowed it before answering.

“Kyrano hasn’t lived with us for years,” he said simply. “It’s just the four of us – five when John’s down – with Grandma, Brains and Kayo – she’s our Tin-Tin – on the island.”

There was silence, and he took the chance to help himself to more of the food on the central platters. It really was good, and if he was eating, he could at least pretend he wasn’t the focus of several varyingly sympathetic looks.

“Where did he go, if you don’t mind my asking, sir?” It was Other-Kyrano who asked, and Scott tried not to react to being called sir.

He shrugged again. “None of us know,” he admitted between mouthfuls. “He retired and vanished. Kayo tries to get in contact with him every now and then, but as far as I know she’s never been successful.”

Scott could feel the elephant in the room, the question on all their tongues even though none of them – not even the otherwise abrasive Other-Alan – wanted to be the one to say it. He sighed and speared a section of meat with his fork, knowing that the question wouldn’t go away until he addressed it.

“Yes,” he said, “it was just after we lost Dad.” He shoved the fork into his mouth and chewed aggressively on the meat, staring down at his plate rather than facing anyone at the table. A hand landed on his right shoulder, presumably belonging to Other-Gordon, who was sat immediately next to him, but no-one said anything in response.

After a moment, Not-Dad cleared his throat. “Brains, how are you doing with the research?” he asked.

“O-oh!” The scientist jumped, clearly not expecting to be addressed, and Scott sent him a mental apology for being the reason he was suddenly the centre of attention even though he was impatient for updates on that front, too. “I, uh, have gathered a-all the data I, uh, can detect from, uh, Thunderbird One’s hangar w-where Scott, uh, appeared,” Other-Brains said, putting his cutlery down as he spoke. “There appears to be a-an, uh, anomaly of some sort in the, uh, atmospheric r-readings but I, uh, haven’t b-been able to, uh, isolate the c-cause yet.”

“But wouldn’t the cause be the collision that brought him through?” Other-Virgil asked.

“T-that would be the, uh, logical assumption,” Other-Brains agreed, “but, I’d, uh, like some m-more data before I, uh, conclude that for, uh, certain.”

Scott was caught with a mouth full of vegetables when bespectacled eyes found him from the other end of the table, where Other-Brains was sitting between Tin-Tin and Other-Kyrano. “I, uh, would like to run some, uh, samples from you to, uh, isolate the a-anomaly from your, uh, home u-universe,” the scientist continued.

Scott swallowed the food. “Whatever you need,” he agreed eagerly. Maybe a little desperately. “Just say when you want them.”

“I’ll, uh, let you know,” Other-Brains promised. It wasn’t ideally the answer Scott was looking for – a definitive time would have been nice – but it was something and he nodded in acknowledgement.

That seemed to be the cue for the hubbub of conversation to start up again. Scott stayed out of it, content to eat and listen, and at the head of the table, Not-Dad seemed likewise content to listen to what his sons were saying as they started talking about what seemed to be normal, everyday things. Scott had the context for none of it and was unsurprisingly completely at a loss as to what any of them were talking about.

Tin-Tin and Mrs Tracy seemed to be holding a conversation about fashion and something that sounded like Pennylon, which Scott assumed was a brand or something, while the brothers engaged in some apparently long-standing banter, although he definitely heard billiards and bet in the hubbub.

Nothing was said about International Rescue, and Scott wondered if that was because he was there, even though he’d sat in on one of their debriefs, or if this family also had a ban on talking business over meals. It was probably the latter.

“Gordon,” Not-Dad said suddenly, cutting into the conversation. “What’s this about a bet I hear?”

The son in question grinned, and further down the table, Other-Scott rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a real one, Father,” Other-Gordon said. “But with Scott here wanting clothes that our Scott wouldn’t normally buy, we had to come up with a reason for his sudden change in taste.”

“So he claimed I bet he couldn’t beat the whole family at billiards,” Other-Scott added. “A bet that I apparently lost, with those clothes as my forfeit.”

Not-Dad chuckled, startling Scott, who hadn’t heard anything except stern patriarch from the man since he’d first met him. Suddenly he seemed a lot more like Dad, and a lump formed in his throat. Scott hurried to put another mouthful of food in his mouth to have a reason for his need to swallow.

“He did, did he?” the older man said. “How many times have you played him so far today?”

“I stopped counting after twelve,” Other-Scott said.

“I see,” Not-Dad mused. “And how many times has he won?” Even Scott could tell he knew what the answer was going to be before it was uttered, but Other-Scott said it anyway.

“Not even once.”

“Maybe we should play chess after dinner instead,” Other-Gordon suggested. His brother laughed.

“But chess wasn’t the bet, was it, Gordon?”

“I think you’ve made your point,” the ginger sulked.

“I’m glad you think so,” Other-Scott said sunnily. “Maybe that’ll teach you to make outlandish claims.”

“I didn’t see you making any suggestions to the contrary,” Other-Gordon pointed out. Sat between them, Other-Virgil’s head was swivelling like an umpire at a tennis match. Conversation across the rest of the table had died down, leaving the two of them the only ones talking.

Two brothers sniping at each other was familiar, and Scott buried himself in the delicious food to try and distract himself from the fact that at home, it would be his brothers sniping at each other, and he might even be involved himself.

No-one seemed to notice his retreat from the conversation, or at least had the manners not to comment on it if they did, and he kept quiet for the rest of the main course.

Dessert passed in much the same manner, with Grandma presenting a gigantic chocolate gateau piled high with fresh strawberries and cream. The entire table fell upon it with gusto, Scott very much included. The ones he picked up from Paris, while the best of professional baking, just weren’t the same as homemade.

“So,” Not-Dad said, once the plates were all licked clean and Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy were bustling around in the kitchen, having cleared the crockery. Tin-Tin had also got up to help them, but none of the others had moved, so Scott took the cue to stay where he was. “What do you boys have planned for the evening?”

“I’ll be continuing with drawing Scott’s brothers,” Other-Virgil said.

“Drawing his brothers?” Not-Dad asked, and he nodded.

“They don’t look identical to us,” Other-Gordon chipped in, “so Virgil’s working with Scott to get portraits together for our reference.”

“I see,” Not-Dad said, and Scott found himself being regarded by the man again. “I’d like to see those once they’re completed.”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Virgil agreed.

“He won’t let any of us see them yet,” Other-Gordon complained.

“I told you,” the artist said, yet again. “Once they’re coloured, and not one moment before.”

A steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Scott, and he glanced up to see Tin-Tin smiling at him. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation now going on between Not-Dad and his sons about the portraits Other-Virgil was working on, he nodded at her in thanks.

Similar cups were finding their way in front of everyone at the table, and Scott assumed a post-meal coffee was part of the routine here. Once everyone was served, Tin-Tin, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy returned to the table with their own drinks and a platter of home-baked cookies.

Tasting the coffee, Scott was pleased to discover Tin-Tin had clearly remembered how he liked it from earlier. The proffered cookies were just as delicious as the cake had been, and by the time they’d finished drinking and eating, Scott was feeling pleasantly full.

He was going to have to make sure he went for his morning run, especially if this was always how they ate here.

“Are you ready to carry on with the portraits?” Other-Virgil asked him after all the cups on the table had been drained dry and the hubbub of conversation had faded away, and he made his way to his feet.

“Sure,” he answered. “Lead the way.”

Other-Virgil’s room was full of frosted glass panels, or so it seemed as Scott followed him inside. Books, on what appeared to be a variety of subjects from art techniques and historic artists to music to what Scott assumed were engineering manuals, lined alcoves in the wall opposite the bed. They were familiar in topic, if not in the particular titles, to the sorts of things he was used to finding in his Virgil’s room.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Other-Virgil invited, nodding at a wooden chair sitting innocuously in the corner as he perched himself on his bed. The sketchbook from earlier had had the respective pages neatly torn out, and Scott caught a glimpse of John’s sketch taped to a large board. Various colouring pencils surrounded the artist where he sat, and Scott obediently retrieved the chair in question to put it down next to the bed so he could see what Other-Virgil was doing.

“What do you want to start with?” he asked, looking at the greyscale picture of his brother and trying to imagine it coloured in. As John was the last brother he’d seen – albeit holographically – before ending up in the wrong universe, it was almost painfully easy to bring him to mind.

“Well, we might as well start with the skin,” Other-Virgil said. “Darker or paler than you?”

That was a good reference point to start with, Scott figured. “Paler,” he replied. “Quite a bit paler. He’s ginger and lives in space most of the time, so he doesn’t get much sun.”

Other-Virgil hummed thoughtfully, fingers dancing over a selection of pencils but not actually selecting one to start. “Do you remember our John well enough to know which one’s darker or paler?” he asked.

“I can’t say I was paying much attention to that,” Scott admitted, wracking his brain to remember how pale Other-John had been. “Mine’s maybe a little paler?”

Other-Virgil nodded and finally selected a pencil. “Say,” he began as he started lightly colouring. “When you say he’s in space most of the time – don’t you fellas have a rotation for Thunderbird Five?”

“A rotation?” Scott tried to imagine telling John he had to share his ‘bird with someone else on a regular basis – someone who wasn’t EOS – and failed miserably. John would probably lock down Thunderbird Five and refuse entry to anyone if Scott so much as breathed a notion about sharing space monitor duty regularly. “No, John’s up there most of the year. He’s happiest there, so it works out.”

“But aren’t there health detriments to staying in space for so long?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott winced.

“A few,” he admitted, “but we’ve done what we can with our technology to minimise them, and it’s not unusual for John to come down for a few days if we’re quiet. We can route the calls straight to Tracy Island if necessary, although the signal isn’t as good and we’re more liable to miss things.” He frowned thoughtfully. “You guys have a rotation?”

Other-Virgil nodded as he set down the pencil he was using and selected another one. Scott peered at the canvas; John’s sketch did look remarkably pale, but the pencil Other-Virgil had selected seemed slightly darker so maybe he planned to layer it up. “John and Alan switch every month, or near enough,” he explained. Scott recalled Other-Alan’s surprising agreement to Other-John’s declaration that he wanted telemetry – it made a lot more sense now. “But John tends to do slightly longer spells than Alan, and very rarely Scott takes a turn if one of them can’t.”

Scott couldn’t imagine sitting up in Thunderbird Five for an entire month, on space monitor duty. He’d done short spells of a couple of days, and that was more than enough for him.

“How does this look so far?” Other-Virgil asked after a few more moments, putting his pencil down and turning the board until Scott could look at it properly. “Too pale?”

Scott peered at it again, but without the vibrant hair or piercing eyes, judging the skin colour was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

“Maybe a little?” he offered, a bit uncertainly.

“How about we move on to his hair for now?” Other-Virgil suggested. “You say he’s ginger?”

Scott nodded. “Very striking,” he confirmed. “Brighter than your Gordon’s.”

Other-Virgil selected a pencil and made some firm strokes across the curl above John’s forehead. “Like this?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Scott confirmed, watching the almost orange pencil continue to follow the sweep of John’s hair. Other-Virgil nodded in acknowledgement, and settled in to keep colouring the hair. He didn’t seem to have any difficulty with the colour; Scott didn’t have to make any corrections, only a couple of confirmations when asked, during the entire process.

Then it was time for his eyes, and this particular little brother of his had never had the easiest eyes to describe, not helped by the fact that Scott saw them through a blue-tinted hologram far more frequently than he actually saw them in person.

“Blue turquoise or green turquoise?” Other-Virgil asked after his initial attempt, and Scott hesitated. They always looked almost blue in the hologram, but then the hologram itself was blue, so…

“Green?” he hedged. “Maybe?”

Other-Virgil seemed slightly amused at his inability to remember the exact colour, if the uptick to his lips was any indication, but dutifully selected a few pencils in the blue-green area, as best Scott could tell, and started adding in flecks to the irises.

Seeing his brother come to life from the paper as Other-Virgil added more and more detail with the pencils brought that lump back in his throat, which Scott swallowed around in the hopes of pushing it down before Other-Virgil looked up and noticed.

No such luck, apparently, as brown eyes glanced up at him and gained a sympathetically concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Other-Virgil asked, setting the pencil and board down and twisting to look at him properly.

“I’m fine,” Scott insisted, but he could tell Other-Virgil wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“You know,” he said gently, “we don’t have to do this all now.”

It was very reminiscent of Other-Gordon’s attitude during their shopping trip, and Scott slouched back on the chair.

“You need to know who you’re looking out for,” he pointed out. “We’ve already established I can’t describe them well enough, so this is the only way we’ve got.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Other-Virgil allowed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to push yourself so hard.”

“They’re my brothers,” Scott snapped back, harsher than he intended. “If they’re somehow here-”

“I understand,” Other-Virgil interjected. Startled at the interruption, Scott’s mouth clicked shut. “Gordon’s right; you’re just like our Scott, and we know how overprotective over us he gets.” A hand landed on his shoulder, and those deep brown eyes searched his. For what, Scott wasn’t sure. “If your brothers are somehow here, we will find them. John’s already listening out, and I’m sure your brothers are smart enough to get themselves somewhere where they can be easily found by the right people. What we’re doing will help, I agree, but if they’re here, it’s not what will find them.”

Scott grit his jaw.

“I have to do something,” he said. A measure of desperation bled through into his voice.

“Look after yourself,” Other-Virgil told him, not unkindly. “That’s what your brothers will want.” Scott looked up at him, startled, and Other-Virgil held his gaze steadily. “I’m sure that, if you’re like Scott, I must be like your brother, too,” he continued. “Look after yourself. Let us help you.”

His hair was different, but his eyes were just the same.

Other-Gordon had said the same thing. Scott wondered if he was in for a similar speech from all of them at one point or another.

“I have to do this,” he said, leaning forwards and gesturing at the still-uncoloured sketches of his three youngest brothers. “I have to.”

Other-Virgil surveyed him for a moment, but must have seen something in his face, because he nodded and pulled his hand back.

“I understand,” he said. “So, would you say we’re done with your John?” He picked up the coloured picture and showed it to Scott.

It was definitely John. The sketch had caught his likeness perfectly, but with the addition of the colours, it was really him.

“Yeah,” he said, around that lump that seemed determined to appear in his throat at any reminder of his brothers. “That’s him.”

Other-Virgil took a moment to look at the finished drawing, and Scott wondered what he was thinking. Whatever thoughts were running through his head, though, he didn’t say them and after a moment set the image aside. It was Virgil’s sketch that he prepped next.

It had to be weird, Scott thought as they started the same process again, for the brown-haired man to know he was colouring in a version of himself from another universe – that hopefully, if Scott really was the only one to have fallen through, he would never meet. Still, Other-Virgil seemed well enough up to the challenge, even if he raised an eyebrow upon Scott’s confirmation that yes, Virgil’s hair was black and not just a very dark brown.

The eyes, at least, were slightly easier. Unlike with Other-John and John, where the former he’d only seen through various sized screens and hadn’t been able to get any real gauge on the exact shade of his eyes, Other-Virgil – as well as Other-Gordon and Other-Alan – had the exact same eyes as Scott’s own brothers.

Other-Virgil, entirely understandably in Scott’s opinion, spent several minutes studying the finished drawing once Scott proclaimed it accurate, but just as with John’s portrait, kept his opinions to himself.

It was dark outside Other-Virgil’s bedroom window by the time all of the sketches were coloured. Instinctively, Scott looked at his wrist for the time, only to be stymied by the analogue dial he’d yet to get anyone to explain to him.

“It’s getting late,” Other-Virgil commented, seemingly only just noticing how dark it was even though he’d turned the lights on about halfway through colouring Alan’s. “Should we show the fellas now or in the morning?”

“Might as well do it now, if they’re still up,” Scott shrugged. “What is the time, anyway?”

“Aren’t you wearing Scott’s watch?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott sighed.

“Yeah, but I can’t read it,” he admitted. “We haven’t used this system in half a century back home.”

“Do you want me to talk you through it now?” Other-Virgil offered, setting the drawings aside and leaning forwards. “It shouldn’t be too complicated for you, I shouldn’t think.”

Scott glanced down at the dial, taunting him with numbers and spokes he couldn’t quite decipher. “That would help,” he admitted, extending his wrist. “So, what am I looking at here?”

Other-Virgil shuffled closer and caught his forearm to steady it. “Well, each point on the edge of the face are the hours, with twelve at the top, followed by one on the immediate right,” he said, pointing at the points in question. Scott nodded. “The shorter hand is the hour hand, and it points at the hour. If it’s pointing between numbers, like it is right now” – it was between the nine and the ten markers – “the hour is the one it’s passed. That makes it nine, here.” Scott nodded again.

“The other hands,” he started, assuming all of the long thin spokes coming from the centre had the same term. “Minutes and seconds?”

“That’s correct,” Other-Virgil confirmed. “The wider, slower, hand is the minutes. Each hour point is five minutes apart for the minute hand, starting from the top of the dial.”

Scott did a quick count. The minute hand was lurking down by the seven hour point, so that meant, “it’s nine thirty-five?”

“That’s right,” Other-Virgil told him. “But we normally say twenty-five to ten. Once it’s past the half hour, we say ‘to’ the hour, rather than ‘past’ the hour.”

That was unnecessarily complicated, in Scott’s opinion. “I’ll try to remember that,” he said out loud, watching the third, slender, hand move around. That was presumably the second hand. “Seconds are counted the same way as minutes?”

“They are, yes,” he was told, Other-Virgil looking quite pleased. “I didn’t think you’d have any trouble with it. Say, what do you fellas use?” He let go of Scott’s wrist.

“Numbers,” Scott shrugged, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Computers update the time every second or minute, depending on the clock, so we just have to read out the numbers.”

“Computers do that?” Other-Virgil asked. Scott found himself surprisingly relieved that the other man seemed to at least know what a computer was. “That sounds very complicated for something as simple as keeping time.”

Scott shrugged. “It’s simple enough for us to use,” he said.

“Well, I suppose it’s what you’re used to,” Other-Virgil commented. “The other fellas should still be up, so we can show them the portraits of your brothers now.” Scott watched him gather up the four drawings and made his own way to his feet, putting the chair back in the corner where it had been earlier.

Chapter 15>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #kyrano #tin-tin kyrano #brains #grandma tracy

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

Text

This is a prompt for @cyclone-rachel who gave me an idea for one of the possible fears Brainy could have faced that would have certainly held a lot more weight in the narrative. Namely, his fear that they couldn’t save Kara in time.

Thanks for the prompt, Rachel, I hope you like it!

“Everyone strap in for turbulence.”

Brainy left Kelly for his own seat feeling somewhat reassured, although that still did not deter the steady onset of nerves continuing to bud inside his chest.

Just last year, emotions such as these could have been very easily compartmentalised, and though he could still manage such tasks by honing his full concentration, it didn’t escape him how every negative emotion fought that much harder to remain at the forefront of his mind.

Fear had never perturbed him quite like it did now. In the Legion, Brainy had met many a terrifying foe, and had even run into creatures that had fed on one’s basest fears. He had always been used as the voice of reason during those instances - relied upon by his team due to his twelfth level intellect, of course, but also because he had always appeared far more impassive against adversaries of that nature. Indeed, he had quickly become the first line of defence for his fellow Legionnaires when faced with scenarios that involved emotional manipulation.

Brainy hadn’t minded, and at the time he hadn’t considered just how such events might have affected him in the long term. How much grief or torment he’d bottled deep inside without even realising the impact it might have had on his psyche.

Instead, he had felt only satisfaction that he was relied upon to deter such emotional conflicts, even if – in the past – he had at times been the instigator of similar arguments simply by stating fact over softening strategies that more empathetic members of the team may have used in his steed.

It had never been his intention, of course, but now he was beginning to understand the importance of cushioning techniques when it came to dealing with emotional unbalance. Kelly had certainly used them by assuring him he would likely not need to use her coping methods during this mission. Logically, however, Brainy knew that it was only a matter of time before the Phantom Zone affected them all in one way or another.

Brainy shook his head, easing himself back into his chair. He tried to settle his nerves by doing as J’onn had instructed. He snapped the belt over his lap, perusing the control panel before him as he glanced up at the screen mapping out their progress so far, the Q waves that projected continuously from the Phantom, far across the rocky and ancient terrain ahead of them.

Then, something flashed.

A white hot light impeded his vision for barely a moment, but it was enough for him to turn away, blinking against the unexpected hindrance. Harsher turbulence followed soon after, causing Brainy to sprawl awkwardly towards the control panel, holding himself upright. He squeezed his eyes shut, fractals of light still swimming in the darkness, before he looked up again, focusing on the screen’s readings. Such a violent strike against the ship’s defences could have easily created a number of problems, scenarios of which were already whirring at a dizzying pace through Brainy’s mind.

What he found on those screens was far worse than anything he could have calculated.

The Phantom was still present and accounted for, the feedback from the cells confirmed as much. And yet… something was wrong. So very, very wrong.

The Phantom’s Q-wave activity had all but evaporated.

Brainy frowned, reaching for the foreign make-up of J’onn’s controls, quickly mastering the Martian design as he linked with the ship’s mainframe. Perhaps the knock to the ship had caused a communication error with the Phantom’s psionic feedback.

But, after only a few seconds within the ship’s network, Brainy was able to determine that the connection was still well intact. In fact, there were no underlying errors presenting themselves anywhere within the ship. Instead, it appeared that the Q waves had simply vanished.

Which could only mean one thing.

“No, nononono,” Brainy muttered to himself, pressing aggressively at the panel. “This can’t be right. This-” He pushed back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “The Phantom. It lost Supergirl’s scent.”

Brainy only realised he’d announced that to the room when he heard uneasy murmurs begin to circulate behind him. Quick to abandon J’onn’s safety measures, his friends moved from their designated seats, swarming around Brainy’s screen.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked tightly. Brainy envisioned she was stood closest to him, an assumption that was quickly verified when her hand clenched around the back of his chair. “How is that possible?”

“It’s not,” Lena said darkly. “The Phantom’s a superpowered bloodhound, it wouldn’t give up- not unless…”

“Unless…” Brainy echoed, his throat closing up before he could say anything else. His vision was already spiralling. Vertigo swept over him as he drank in every implication of Lena’s unfinished sentence.

“Unless what?” Alex demanded.

“What’s going on?” Nia asked.

Even with everyone thinking the same question, Brainy couldn’t bring himself to say the answer out loud. Instead, he watched abjectly as the symbol of El Mayarah extinguished from the screen, taking with it the inkling of hope he had been holding onto from the moment Kara had been lost to the Phantom Zone portal.

He shook his head, driving his hands back over the controls. “No,” he said forcefully. “It could be a false reading, we should- we should keep going.” His eyes cut across the co-ordinates the screen was displaying in the absence of Supergirl’s insignia - the last known location of Kara Zor-El.

They were close, so close that the Phantom’s Q-waves weren’t necessary to put together the unaccounted distance. The ship was already scanning the area below, picking up on signs of life… signs of…

Of a body. Humanoid. Kryptonian.

With an internal temperature of…

No.

“She’s…”

Brainy’s chest stuttered, catching harshly as the beacon of light that had paved the path for his whole life suddenly went out.

“I can drop the sun bomb,” Lena said frantically, her voice barely passing through the static ringing loudly in his ears. “Maybe that’ll give her the strength she needs to…”

But, Brainy could only stare at the screen. Kara’s internal body temperature wasn’t just low… it was ice cold. And, as the ship’s calculations manifested for everyone to see, something inside of Brainy’s chest caved in on itself.

Kara wasn’t just dead. She’d been dead for… for…

For weeks.

Brainy couldn’t breathe.

He’d been using Kara’s inspiration, her passion and her optimism even in the darkest tunnels as his anchor. All this time. He’d used hope, her hope in an effort to bring her home unscathed. Because no other option would have sufficed; she had to be okay.

Because, if she was gone… then he was surely the cause.

If not for him, she would have never ended up in the Phantom Zone to begin with. If he hadn’t bottled Leviathan, if he hadn’t lied to them all, none of this would be happening.

Brainy’s vision blurred, washing away the readings as tears flooded to the surface. All of this… all of this had been for nought. All those weeks they had spent hoping, and for what? For what?

There had never been a reason to hope at all. They had been kidding themselves, all of them, to assume Kara would have survived entry into the Phantom Zone. That she hadn’t been cast there from a portal miles in the sky, falling at terminal velocity, unable to fly to safety. With no yellow sun, she had been without power, without protection. Something as simple as a broken bone would have been a death sentence in a hellscape like the Phantom Zone.

Brainy’s lips were numb. A crushing weight felt as though it was overpowering his lungs, sucking the air from within. His head throbbed with sudden pressure, a motley of untameable thoughts clawing viciously for freedom.

Something burned deep inside his chest, a pain so profound that he thought he was going to be sick. Was this what heartbreak felt like…? As though your heart was actually breaking? Snapping in two with the fragility of glass?

Brainy gasped out, clawing at his centre as he finally managed to rake in a single breath. It felt like swallowing a mouthful of razor blades, tearing at his innards as it sought passage through his lungs.

The pressure in his head mounted even further, clamouring loudly in his ears. His tears felt like acid in his eyes, but he couldn’t make them fall. Instead, he remained blind to the world. Blind to everything.

And yet, something still pressed him far at the back of his mind.

A tiny voice whispering that it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.

…Was it?

Was it real?

Where was his focus? Brainy struggled through another breath, trying desperately to blink away his tears. The pain ate at him, so poignant he could barely function, but he was meant to… to focus, yes? That had been the point. To… to compartmentalise. To…

To focus on what was real.

But it felt real. The despondency that welled inside his chest, the fire in his head, scorching him every time he imagined Kara, lifeless and alone on the cold terrain below. He felt it, all of it, and he couldn’t bear it.

“Why should you have to?”

Brainy’s head jerked up instinctively, glancing about himself as he sniffed hard, turning in his chair.

His friends were no longer present, but he was not alone.

Humanoid forms took residency at the centre of the ship’s control room. They stood stolidly, arms clasped in front of them, heads bowed low.

Among the static shapes, whispers began to permeate.

Brainy blinked quickly, wiping at his face as he forced himself from his chair, grabbing its back when his legs threatened to buckle. He weighed himself against it, heart thundering in his head, but it was not enough to drown out the voices suddenly invading his mind, breaking free from the boxes he’d built a long time ago.

They shouldn’t be… they couldn’t…

“Excessive emotional turmoil,” the same voice as before said, dripping with fake pity. “It’s truly remarkable what it can set loose.”

Brainy felt ill. “No. No, you can’t—you can’t!” His voice rang out around him, falling on deaf ears.

The voices only seemed to revel in his anguish. Brainy groaned out, clenching his hands around his head, curling in on himself as the whispers intensified.

He caught words within the ocean of sound, enticing murmurs, urging him to come forward, to step into the space still reserved for him. Even after all this time.

Alongside the insistent encouragement of his peers, the shapes in front of him began to take form. Some were green, most of them were green, but one stood out amongst the crowd. A blue skinned woman with red hair grinned wickedly at him, raising her hand in a partial salute.

Indigo?

Brainy’s eyes glanced desperately at the Coluans stood before him.

His blood, stretching back generations. His clan.

His ancestral memory come to life.

A strangled sound caught in Brainy’s throat as their voices pitched inside his mind. He couldn’t- he couldn’t pack them away. No box could patch the hole that had torn through his internal storage. His emotions were frenzied, wild and chaotic and he was… he could not tame them.

“What’s the matter, Querl?” Indigo asked playfully. “Cat got your tongue?”

Brainy shuddered involuntarily when he saw the claws that manifested along Indigo’s fingers. She grinned, snapping them aggressively towards him.

“That’s enough.”

Brainy already felt so drained, the new voice was nearly too much for him to bear. It was only a small comfort that the other whispers stilled at its presence, petering out to an almost manageable hum.

With everything so muddled already, Brainy hadn’t recognised her at first. He chastised himself immediately. How foolish of him not to assume that she would be here, somehow. The voice of reason that he had clung onto for so long, that he had followed blindly and passionately, because he’d believed that if he did… she might one day love him.

But, her eyes were just as cold as they always had been.

Brainiac 4 materialised at the centre of the room, batting Indigo aside as though she were nothing but a child. Indigo’s image shimmered as a result, but Brainy hardly paid it mind. The only person he could focus his energy on was the most dangerous in the room.

A woman he had once called mother.

He didn’t want to say that word again, and yet with all the hopelessness inside his heart, the emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole, he couldn’t help but cling to the image of Brainiac 4 as she walked towards him, reaching out her hand.

When her cold fingers brushed across his cheek, Brainy’s lips trembled, and the tears in his eyes finally began to fall.

Brainiac 4 reviewed his reaction inquisitively, her brow raised in question. “My boy,” she said, tucking her hand beneath his chin, enough to tip his watery gaze towards hers. “Why don’t you give up on these silly little pretences? Doesn’t it hurt to hold onto all of this pain?”

Join us.

The whisper that broke through what little resolve he had left sounded far more like Indigo’s than any other. It thrilled through his nerves, whispering scintillating invitations into his mind.

Brainy flinched from his mother’s hand, fingers clenching tightly against his palms.

She was right. It did hurt. Every fibre of his being ached with it. He wanted to let it out, wanted to discard it as Lena had taught him. Throw every feeling out into the open with a vicious cry. He wanted to collapse into a ball and never, ever come out.

But, he could do none of those things. Instead, he had to live with the guilt that ate into his heart, the heartbreak that would surely never heal. He had to stand there knowing what he had done, what he was responsible for.

That he would never, ever see her smile again.

The death of the future as he knew it. The death of Supergirl.

His family.

Brainy stirred at that thought. After all, who were his family?

He tore his gaze from his mother’s, long enough to turn about the room, seeking out the spaces that had been left blank. He hardly remembered who had been stood there before his ancestors had actualised. If he focused hard enough, he thought, perhaps, he could see echoes of people occupying that same space, but he saw no faces. Remembered no names.

Not real.

He couldn’t see them, and if he couldn’t see them then he most certainly could not touch them. Could not hear or smell them.

That decided it, then. It was simple, nearly too simple.

Whoever had existed before - they had been the lies. Echoes of another life, one that had never meant to be his. After all, his ancestors reached far beyond the five senses. They were an innate part of his very makeup as a Coluan. As a Brainiac.

And they had always been real.

Brainy’s chest spasmed as a sob nearly wracked him, more tears welling in his eyes. And… and he didn’t want to feel this way. It was nonsensical, to dwell on dreams, on nightmares. They only sought to make him weak. And a Brainiac was never weak.

His mother’s hands were solid when they took his shoulders, leaching the heat from his skin.

Her lips quirked with satisfaction. “You see it, don’t you? This simulation you have created for yourself is a destined failure. It is time to put your uninhibited mind to good use.” Her nails bit sharply into his flesh. “Join us. As you were destined to.”

Brainy nodded mutely. After all, why should he feel pain? What was the use of this frivolous emotion? What was the point in any of the good if it only meant feeling all this bad?

It would only weigh him down, which would not do. Indeed, he had a legacy to uphold.

Brainy’s eyes fluttered shut, finally letting the last of his mental barriers slip away with one long, cleansing exhale. The voices wasted no time, rushing in like an aggressive wave, swallowing him whole in seconds.

When Brainy opened his eyes, he felt no pain. No heartbreak.

Instead, he absconded from the needless weight of his emotional baggage, stepping forward into his mother’s waiting arms.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #my writing #brainiac 5 #brainiac 4 #kara zor el #alex danvers #lena luthor #nia nal #my prompts #cyclone-rachel #lol if you want this can be a belated birthday present of sorts #this took longer to edit than anticipated and i might add a few bits and bobs in later but i hope you enjoy!

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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

Text

masterlist - ao3 - prologue - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The auditorium clapped loudly and Elide could hear her friend’s cheers as she finished her valedictorian speech for the Fenharrow University School of International Relations. She smiled brightly, accepting the gold plaque that the dean held out to her and posing for the photographer.

Elide waved as she walked off the stage. She didn’t have time to wait for the other announcements - Ress was already trying to hurry her up - but she managed to catch Asterin and Yrene’s eyes, blowing them both a kiss and waving.

She made a note to ask Lysandra if she could fly them both out over the summer. Elide knew she’d be busy, with the title and the official resignation of her uncle, but hopefully she could sneak a weekend away before the ceremony, which they were both coming for anyway.

“Miss Lochan, we really–”

“Ress, I told you to call me Elide,” she reminded the young man, smirking at the way he blushed. He was Aelin’s favourite guard and her most trusted, which was probably why he’d been sent to collect her from university and whisk her back to Perranth.

Ress cleared his throat, “Of course. Elide, we need to hurry. The plane is waiting.”

She smiled and followed him through the back halls. Ress led her out to the street, where a black SUV was waiting. He opened the door for her and Elide smiled her thanks, sighing in relief once she was sitting.

A bag was on the seat next to her. Elide rolled up the partition just as Ress started the car, pulling smoothly away from the curb to the airport.

She changed into a pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a hoodie from her now alma mater. Then, she rolled down the partition again, leaning forward to rest her forearms against it and her chin on her wrists. “So,” Elide cackled when Ress jumped, spooked by her proximity, “how’s Terrasen?”

“It’s very good,” he replied, slowing to a stop at a red light. Elide took the opportunity to crawl through to the passenger seat. “Miss Lochan- Elide, stop that! It’s not safe for you to be up here!”

“Oh, come on! I know you have bulletproof windows and the windshield is too,” she argued, relenting by buckling her seatbelt. Elide continued, adding, “Plus, if someone does shoot at me, you’re closer to throw your body in front of mine to save me.”

Ress rolled his eyes in jest and the light turned green. “Your logic is impeccable as always, milady.”

Elide punched his shoulder for that, cursing when her ineffectual blow was met with solid muscle, “Fuck me, you couldn’t be a bit softer for when I punch you?”

He just laughed and continued driving.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The plane started to rumble beneath her and Elide gripped the armrest tightly, her long, black acrylics digging into the plush, cream-coloured leather. Despite being a regular flier, she never had gotten used to the sudden lurch in her stomach as the glorified tin can sped up and shot into the sky.

Landing was easier, but only by a smidgen.

Elide kept her eyes screwed shut until a soft ding sounded, indicating that they had reached cruising altitudes. She let out a long breath, opening her eyes to look out the window as they flew away from Bellhaven.

The stewardess came by with tea and a sandwich for both Elide and Ress, who was sitting in the comfortable chair opposite hers. Elide thanked her and started on her tea while Ress practically inhaled his sandwich.

Elide snorted and handed him hers. When he declined, she insisted, “C’mon. I’m not hungry, we went to the diner to see Sorscha anyway, just take it.” He conceded, obviously making an effort to eat it slower as Elide stirred her tea.

She watched him curiously and sipped from her tea.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Ress muttered, his cheeks pinking.

“I’m not staring at you,” she replied loftily. Elide placed her cup to the side and rested her elbow on her armrest, propping her chin on her fist. “Are you still seeing that boy?”

Ress choked on a bite of food and coughed. When he finally got his breath back, he shook his head, “Did Aelin say- is the sandwich a bribe?”

Elide gasped, “So there is a boy, I knew it!”

“Don’t you have preparations to look over,” he shot back at her, eyeing the manila folder on the tray next to her.

Elide sighed and gave him a dirty look up as she picked up the smooth packet, looking at the shiny seal, her family’s crest staring up at her. Ress took it as his exit and practically fled. Elide called after him, “This isn’t over, Ress!”

“Oh, yes it is!” he yelled back, collapsing into a seat facing away from her and slinking down so she couldn’t even see his brown-haired head.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide smoothed her hands over her white tweed jacket, fingering the button stamped with a double C. She turned to appraise the matching pants.

Her hair was curled, clipped back and resting over one shoulder. As usual her makeup was done to perfection - she had long since perfected the barely-there look - and Elide decided to finish the look off with a dark black lip that matched the piping of her suit.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, “Elide? Captain says we need to return to our seats.”

“I’ll be right out,” she called back, testing her ankle. She had gotten the necessary surgeries two months after she turned eighteen and had control over her medical needs. Since the injury and subsequent abuse due to her uncle’s refusal for medical attention, it would never heal to what it once was, but Elide was diligent about her physio-therapy, so she could usually go without her brace unless she was exercising.

Elide packed her bags up and walked out, stashing them on her carry-on before sliding into her seat and buckling her seatbelt.

Ress smiled at her, tilting his head to the window, “Welcome home, Duchess of Perranth.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ress half covered her from the press as she walked off the plane and across the tarmac. “Elide, I don’t want you being too open.”

“I’ll just smile and wave,” she argued, flashing him a blinding smile as she stepped around him and waved, “What’s the point of looking this good if I can’t show off?”

He grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Aelin is rubbing off on you. Elide laughed and approached the fence, bending down to accept the bouquet from a little girl dressed to the nines in a tulle dress and a tiara. “Oh, thank you. I love peonies,” Elide said, “and your tiara, it’s beautiful.”

The little girl beamed, flashing where she was missing her top front teeth, and then ran back to her mother, who shared a warm smile with Elide.

Elide waved once more and dodged Remelle DuBois, one of the countless entertainment reporters who spent her days chasing down royals and their family members. She had always been too… friendly with Rowan. Remelle wasn’t one for subtlety and was a vocal critic of Aelin’s policies.

Elide had always doubted it had anything with her cousin’s skills as a competent monarch.

Ress ushered her away before Remelle could sink her claws into Elide and showed her into yet another SUV, its windows tinted black.

Elide stayed glued to the window for the entire drive. She always returned to Perranth during her breaks, but that reading week back in February, she had been too busy with midterms and couldn’t find the time to fly out.

She had missed her home more than she thought possible and drank in the sights as Ress drove through the city. The castle was a short ten minute drive from the city limits and Elide looked excitedly at the landmarks telling her she was getting closer and closer.

They turned onto a nondescript road. After a minute of thick forest - strategically grown as a natural defence - the rolling green hills of the property came into view. Elide gasped happily at the sight of the soaring towers.

When Ress parked in the roundabout driveway, Elide didn’t bother waiting for one of the footmen to open her door before she was hopping out. A familiar pair stood at the top of the limestone steps, next to Vernon, who looked at Elide with a slight sneer.

Aelin smiled and managed to contain herself as the majordomo announced, “Her Royal Grace, Elide Amara Lochan of Perranth.”

There was a short trumpet fanfare played as Elide walked up the steps. She thanked Anneith that it was customary to address the queen and king consort before any other royal. Elide curtsied formally, bowing her head before Aelin and Rowan.

Their arresting eyes were both filled with mild amusement at the formality of it all. “Welcome home, Elide,” Aelin said, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks and squeeze her hands. In a soft whisper, she said, “I’m so proud of you, my love.”

Elide mouthed Thank you and turned to Rowan, breaking protocol to throw her arms around his shoulders. The silver-haired man laughed deeply and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head, “Hey, Ellie.”

“Hi, Ro,” she croaked. They had grown even closer and it wouldn’t be remiss to call Rowan her best friend. Vernon cleared his throat obnoxiously and Rowan reluctantly put her down, never happy to relinquish his protective hold on her around her uncle.

Elide patted his bicep, telling him she was fine. She dipped her head, internalising her smirk at the indignation on Vernon’s face when she hardly bowed. “Uncle, it’s lovely to see you again.”

He gave her a slimy smile and Elide visibly stiffened when he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, his grip near crushing. “My sentiments exactly, niece.”

Aelin’s personal assistant, Lysandra, appeared, smiling widely. “Elide, I thought I heard your name.”

“Hi, Lyss,” she said, hugging the green eyed beauty warmly. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you,” Lysandra answered before drawing back. “Now that we’ve all said hello, why don’t we move this inside?”

They all chuckled and followed her as she led them through the front doors, thanking the doormen with a dazzling grin. The moment the doors shut behind them, Aelin squealed and threw herself at Elide, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, it’s like it’d kill you to visit your poor cousin - you know how I loathe spending my days with stuffy old men.”

Elide laughed, “You’re the one who insisted I finish my degree before assuming the title.” Tears pricked her eyes, “I missed you, Ace. You have to tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Aelin pulled away, looping her arm through Elide’s, “It’s been a busy year. Most of my meetings are about you, you know. It takes a lot to prepare for your–” The blonde was interrupted by a derisive snort, poorly disguised by a cough. Slowly, she turned to face Vernon. “Have a cold, do you?”

“No, no, I’m quite alright.” He cleared his throat, “I thought I might be more involved with the preparations, that’s all. If I may, how far along are the plans?”

Elide glanced between her uncle and her cousin, feeling dread settle in the pit of her stomach.

“...quite far. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”

Elide tugged Aelin along before she could snap back a snarky response, “I think we can discuss this later. I’m rather tired and would like to get settled.”

Aelin looked ready to fight, but softened after Elide’s pleading look, “Of course. I have a surprise for you, El.”

The tension eased from her shoulders as their party moved swiftly, leaving Vernon in their wake.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin insisted on keeping Elide’s eyes closed as they moved through the halls.

Elide was sure her cousin purposefully took her all over, so she had no idea where they had ended up. “Ae, come on, let me see!”

“Ok, ok, ready?”

“For the love of the gods, yes!”

Aelin pulled her hands away and stepped away. Elide exhaled sharply, “This- it’s my parents rooms.” She looked in confusion at Aelin, not understanding what was happening. “Wh-what?”

Aelin shrugged, “Since you’re about to be the duchess, I thought it might be more appropriate for you to live here instead of your old rooms.”

Elide reached out, squeezing Aelin’s hand. She hadn’t spent much time in the rooms since her parents died - no one had. Vernon had once mentioned moving in, but after Elide objected by refusing to eat, he relented and they remained empty. “Thank you, love.”

Aelin beamed, “The pleasure is all mine. Now,” she put a hand on the handle, turning it to the side, “shall we?”

Nodding, Elide braced herself as Aelin opened the door and she walked in, taking in the entry hall. A flash of black, brown, and white fur shot towards her.

She managed to keep on her feet as Bear crashed into her, the large pup’s body wiggling uncontrollably in excitement. Elide laughed and kicked off her precarious heels, crouching down to hug her dog. “Hi, Bear, oh, hi, lovie.”

Bear barked excitedly, her fluffy tail whipping back and forth, coming close to toppling the hall stand and the vase placed there for Elide’s flowers. The house she had rented with Asterin, Sorscha, and Yrene hadn’t allowed pets, so Bear stayed in Orynth with Fleetfoot.

The fluffy Bernese Mountain dog butted her big head into Elide’s hands, asking for pets. Elide laughed and scratched her floppy ears, “Were they treating you well in the castle? Yeah?”

Bear growled playfully, nipping at Elide’s hand before moving past her to the door and sitting expectantly. Elide stood and dusted off her pants, chuckling at her eagerness, “Not now, Bear. I just got home!”

“Speaking of,” Aelin said, patting Bear’s head, “let me show you what I’ve done!”

Elide faked a groan and let herself be dragged over through the entry hall, noticing the new armchairs placed around the table. She waited excitedly as Aelin dramatically flung the double doors open to her bedroom, “Welcome!”

Stepping in, Elide took in the opulence of her room. It was painted a pastel mint and cream. She smiled, looking at the large bed in the middle of the room, its wooden frame edged in gold with a diamond-tufted headboard.

Pillows upon pillows practically overtook the bed, the sheets a neutral white. Aelin stood nervously by the bed, running her hand along the soft throw blanket, “I got the white just in case you wanted to change it, you can. And we can repaint this, too, of course. And–”

“Aelin, really, it’s amazing. I love it,” Elide said, turning to take in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase flanking the fireplace and large, flat screen television. There was a white armchair by the wall of windows, the middle two Elide knew were French doors that opened to the balcony that oversaw the courtyard and the gardens.

The queen smiled softly and beckoned her over to the closet, “And this is a little birthday present, just from me to you, ok?”

Elide bit her lip to contain her smile as Aelin opened the door with a flourish, “Ta-da!”

She walked in, her mouth dropping as she took in the racks of clothes in the walk-in dressing room. There was a full length mirror that lit up when Elide touched it and she gasped, whirling to look at the clothes hanging. “Oh my gods, Aelin.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me show you this,” Aelin said, drawing her attention to the island in the middle of the room. She pressed a button and after a slick hiss, drawers popped open, sliding out to display accessories and beautiful jewellery.

“Oh, Aelin, it’s beautiful,” Elide gushed, most excited about the wall of shoes and purses. She pulled Aelin into another hug, “Thank you for everything, Ace. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Too overcome with emotion to say a word, Aelin just returned the embrace and they stayed there for a while, trapped in the moment.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide sighed calmly as she sipped a glass of wine, holding a tattered paperback in the other hand.

She rested her feet on the opposite lip of the sunken bath, tapping her toes to the rhythm in her head. The bathroom door was nudged open and big paws padded against the marble tiles. Elide smiled, turning to look at Bear as she rested her head on edge of the tub and whined softly.

Laughing, Elide put her glass and book down. “Have I not paid enough attention to you?” she asked, lovingly stroking her hand over Bear’s head. The dog huffed through her nose, making her eyes big and wide.

Elide laughed again, leaning over to kiss the top of Bear’s head, “I missed you too, Bear.” She reclined further back as Bear slumped to the floor, her chin resting on her paws. It seemed for the first time in Elide’s life, the future was clear and nothing could ruin that for her.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: i hope u liked her 🥺 next chapter is fun ! really really quite fun hehe

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse e @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @januarystears

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter one #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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buckleyirondad · 4 years ago

Photo

1. Let’s Hang Out Sometime “Shackled”

Tony only has minutes to save Peter.

AO3 Link

Tony could recall how chaotic his life had been, but not even taking on alien armies, with a team of elite superheroes, would mean as much to him, as his children did.

Morgan and Peter together, as sister and brother, deserved to be remembered, it was as beautiful as the Renaissance, because no photograph would ever capture Tony’s disbelief, whenever they darted into a room together.

Still, normal life carried on, whatever ‘normal’ meant.

Not many semiretired superheroes had adopted a self-sacrificing Spider-Kid, who managed to topple, head-first, into danger, without any real warning; Tony was sure he was the only one. He wouldn’t change anything though, even if the kid found a new way to almost give Tony a heart attack, every other week.

Tony was home alone, most weekdays, mindlessly doing paperwork for Pepper, or finishing household chores.

Selfishly, Peter was at school, Morgan was at Kindergarten, and everybody else was working.

Peter was in senior year, which meant, he was usually too busy to hang out with any of them, even after school. He’d even dropped a few patrol duties, to make sure he was concentrating on his upcoming tests. He didn’t stay over as regularly, as he used to, because more often than not, he was bunking over with Ned or MJ, desperately trying to ready themselves for the coming onslaught of standardized testing.

At night-time, Morgan started performing a bedroom ritual. She’d get out of bed, fifteen or so minutes after being read a story, sit on the floor outside her bedroom door, with her arms crossed. She’d pout, and sometimes even frown. Tony and Pepper would tell her to get back to bed, but their pleas would be ignored.

Morgan knew how to stand her ground.

Most nights they would ask her if she was thirsty, or if she wanted one of them to stay in her room until she was asleep. It never worked. Usually, she would fall asleep, waiting, and occasionally, she would stand down, when she got tired.

A silent protest, it seemed, but for what, they weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t until Peter stopped over for a week when Morgan’s intentions become clear because she didn’t do when he was there.

She missed her brother.

‘Why didn’t you tell us that, Little Miss?’

‘Didn’t want you to worry.’

Oh, she was definitely her father’s daughter. He made sure to point out, that she could confide in him with anything, even if it was sad. He didn’t want her growing up, internalizing everything, he’d done that, and it sucked.

Morgan’s problem was a simple fix, they made sure Peter visited more often, on weekends, and every Wednesday afternoon, he collected her from Kindergarten; they’d go out for ice cream or waffles.

Tony was sprawled across his desk, with his face uncomfortably laid across a pile of paperwork that he was yet to get done, “Uhhh.” He groaned, “Fri, is it bedtime?”

“Bedtime is a social construct, Boss.”

“You—” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, “You’ve been talking to Peter too much.”

A ringtone traveled around the office, and Tony’s computer screen lit up, Friday announced, “Incoming call from Morgan’s Kindergarten.”

Tony sat up straight, with narrowed eyes, he swiped his hand along, accepting the call, “Hello.”

“Mr. Stark—"

“Miss. Jenkins?” He raised an eyebrow, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.” She sighed, “Nobody has turned up to collect Morgan. I know these things can happen—”

Tony darted his eyes to the corner of his screen, to make sure he hadn’t skipped a day, but it was definitely Wednesday, “Peter is meant to collecting her today—” He interrupted, as his stomach dropped to his feet.

“Oh, of course.” Miss. Jenkins exclaimed, “Could something have come up and he forgot?”

Tony moved his hand across his screen and attempted to ring Peter’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail, “No, he’d never—”

The screen blinked, alerting him that he had another call waiting, from a blocked number.

“I—Something’s—” Tony rubbed the nape of his neck, “Uh, I’m gonna send somebody to pick Morgan up. Can you—” He stuttered, “Can you stay with her? Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Her tone turned frantic, as had his, “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so.” He answered, before hanging up, but it was too late, the blocked number, had stopped calling, “Shit.”

“Boss, I have determined that May was the closest to Morgan, and I have instructed her to collect her.” Friday said, “She wants updates on Peter’s whereabouts pronto.”

Tony clambered out his chair, pacing, “Yeah, um—”

The piercing ring came again, but without having to be asked, Friday patched them through.

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, “Hello.” He barked, into the silence.

A familiar obnoxious sneer followed, “Anthony…”

Justin Hammer.

Fifteen years ago, he gave Ivan Vanko the ammunition to destroy innocent lives.

One of the lives that could have been claimed, happened to a young and undeniably brave, Peter Parker.

Tony lowered his voice, to a whisper, “Where’s my kid, Hammer?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on-“ Hammer sung, “Can we catch up first?”

“No.”

Hammer hummed, “It feels like only yesterday, when I told your wife, that I was gonna make a problem for you.”

“Yeah?” Tony clenched his fists, by his sides, “I’m pretty sure you told her we were gonna be seeing you ‘real soon,’ but it’s been…” He chuckled gravely, “…What? Fifteen years.”

“In my defence, I was gone for five of those.”

“You make that sound like ten years is ‘real soon.’” Tony mocked, “I know, for a fact, you’re inside Maximum Facility – so, if you’re wasting my time—”

“Wasting your time?” Hammer laughed, “Is…your intern missing, Anthony?”

Tony learned that trick from Natasha, it was easy to get a bad guy to admit to their wrongdoings when you pretend to think that they are not the ones behind it.

Friday had traced Hammer’s call, and fortunately, he was still in jail, he was obviously using a burner phone, “Did Peter Parker forget to pick up your precious little daughter?”

“Where—”

Hammer shushed him, “You’ve got to applaud my brilliance, for I have outsmarted the guards and even you. From inside these walls, I’ve managed to pull off a…” He paused, “Tony Stark Heist. Let’s call it that. You took everything from me, and now I’ve taken part of your everything, from you.”

“Look—” Tony snarled, “Hammer, my kids have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, but they do.” Hammer exclaimed, “I’m not a monster, don’t confuse me with that – Peter is at my Headquarters.”

“What?”

“I’m helping you.” He pointed out, “Peter Parker, is trapped inside, my Headquarters. The one your little Russian friend tore apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I love getting the last laugh.”

With that confession, he hung up.

“Friday—Can you—” Tony blurted, “Just get everybody!”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony pressed his chest, activating the nanotech suit; he rushed out, almost tearing the front door off its hinges.

He took the skies, concealing himself amongst the clouds. This was a trap, he’d be dumb not to see it, but Peter’s life was in danger, so logic had to be thrown aside.

Hammer Industries had closed down, following his downfall, but the Headquarters, stood unchanged. One of the only buildings that remained abandoned.

Tony landed, in what used to be the entranceway.

It was eerie, somehow, in a little over a decade, the building had aged, attributed to the graffiti on top of graffiti and nature was beginning the claim it back too.

Tony tore off the metal boards off the main entranceway, that had been put up to stop trespassers from entering, “Scan for life, Fri—” He found the door handle and made his way inside.

“One heat signature located.”

Blood rushed in his ears, he didn’t understand Hammer’s plan, but he knew it couldn’t be good, “Okay.”

He followed the schematics, towards the located heat signature.

It led him to a door, he rushed over, pulling it open, swiftly.

Peter’s voice screamed out, “Stop!”

Tony looked up, startled, “Kid—”

Peter sat, in the center of the room, shackled to chair, by his ankles and arms. His face was a gallery of superficial cuts and bruises, “Don’t move.”

“Okay, okay—”

Tony eyeballed the chains that were holding Peter, they’d didn’t seem particularly sturdy, they looked old. If he needed to, Peter could potentially escape them, but the kid was dangerously still.

“Pete?”

Tony’s stomach lunged forward, he fought against the bile rising in his throat.

There was a bomb, strapped to the side of the chair. How original.

Peter slowly bend down, he shrieked, tears welling in his eyes, “The timer—it’s –it’s going—"

“Boss, I believe you tripped the system.”

“I know.” Tony retracted his mask, “I’m sorry, kiddo.” He rushed over, kneeling in front of him, “It must be rigged, with the door.”

They had 3 minutes and 45 seconds – nowhere near enough time for Tony to unscrew it all and cut out the correct wires.

Tony used the lasers, in his gauntlet to cut through the chains holding Peter down.

Peter breathed rheumatically, “I can’t move—” He cried, “It will—”

“I know—” Tony cupped Peter’s cheek, “Fri, what’s the blast radius?”

“3.7 miles. There are currently 2456 civilians, in immediate danger.”

Of course, Hammer made sure there was collateral, putting Peter in harm’s way wasn’t enough.

Tony planned, on the spot, “Roll out the Iron Legion and inform the local authorities.”

“On it.”

Peter leaned into Tony’s palm, he choked out a sob, “You need to go.”

Tony snapped his head up, “Kid—"

“There’s no time, you’ve gotta get out—” Peter’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, “You know you can’t save me, this time, Mr. Stark.” He ducked his head, “There’s no point in throwing away your life…”

“Oh, kid…” He brushed tears off Peter’s cheek, with his thumb, “My Peter—”

Peter swallowed the lump, in his throat, “It’s okay.”

Tony leaned up, pressing a kiss on Peter’s forehead, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.”

Tony muttered, “You really don’t.” He quickly looped his hands under Peter’s arms, swiftly pulling him off the seat, he turned around, taking his place.

Peter yelped, swaying on his feet, trying to get used to the solid ground, “Tony!”

Tony managed a small smile.

Peter cried, with wide eyes, “You tricked me?”

Tony nodded, “Get ready to run, kiddo–” He cautioned, “—On my signal.”

Peter threw his hands out, “What signal?!”

“Friday.” Tony cleared his throat, “Initiate the ‘comfort blanket’ protocol.”

The front of the suit opened, and Tony clambered out of the chair.

“Now!” He grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him, out of the door.

Peter was limping, with a cry.

Tony locked an arm around him, lifting him off his feet.

As soon as they made it to the entrance, Tony leaped to the ground, shielding Peter in his arms.

The noise was deafening, but the blast wasn’t much.

“Wow.” Tony sighed, leaning his head on the concrete below, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Peter groaned, “Uh.”

“Hey there, kiddo.” He carefully helped Peter into a sitting position, “Never tell me that I can’t save you.” He bopped his nose, with his finger.

Peter bent forward, leaning his head on Tony’s arm, “What—” His voice cracked, “What is the comfort blanket protocol?”

Tony brushed his hands over the side of his undersuit, trying to get rid of a layer of grit, “Basically, the nanotech smothered the bomb and absorbed the blast.”

“That’s cool.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the kid, “And it worked.”

Peter laughed, “It’s you, of course, it did.”

“Ha.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hm, I guess, maybe.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Justin Hammer’s got nothing on me.”

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #let's hang out sometime #shackled #marvel #irondad fanfiction #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #justin hammer #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #irondad fic rec

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yeonchi · 3 years ago

Text

The state of tokusatsu in the West in 2021

The events of the past few weeks have taken the Western toku fanbase by storm. Amidst the shitstorm of spergs and a-logs who think they’re being rational but are really low-key spergs, unexpected turns in events are heralding the death knell for tokusatsu fansubs (that was going to be the name of this post initially). In addition, these events have also exposed the state of tokusatsu in the West in 2021, whether it be in regards to fansubs and streaming or Shirakura and the fanbase.

An update on the current situation

This is an update to the two posts I made in the past few weeks regarding the subject.

So some Indonesian wrote a Twitter thread about tokusatsu in general and in one of those tweets, he mentions Shirakura and the recent fansub scandal in a passing manner. Another Indonesian quote retweets him and tags Shirakura and this is what he got:

A few hours later, Shirakura wrote a few tweets about the situation (which are after the break):

(Tweets 1 and 3 translated by killadelfo, tweets 2, 4 and 5 translated by me because Shirakura and other a-logs won’t do it)

Some context:

Tweet 1 - 「雉も鳴かずば打たれまい」 directly translates to "If the pheasant didn't ring, then it wouldn't have been hit". At a stretch, it sounds like victim-blaming in rape culture. Also, the “semi-official streaming site” Shirakura is referring to is TokuHD, who are currently streaming Kamen Rider Agito and 555 with abysmal subtitle translation quality (Honshin and Olfenok) and were apparently licenced by an unknown third-party (if anyone knows, please tell me and I’ll update this).

Tweet 2 - The North Wind and the Sun, one of Aesop’s fables that teaches the superiority of persuasion over force. You can read the story here if you’re too infantile to read Wikipedia.

Later on, TV-Nihon officially announced that they have decided to stop subbing Saber and Zenkaiger, softsubs or hardsubs alike, with Takenoko stating that he doesn’t want to worry about legal trouble on their team. Whether or not they will sub future series is still unknown at the moment. Nothing has come back regarding the apparent C&D from Toei, particularly as NewZect and KRDL haven’t received anything else from them apart from one email (and KRDL received theirs in 2019 apparently).

Despite this, Shirakura has expressed his gratitude for fans across the world who watch Toei’s shows, no matter how they watch them. It’s a far cry from “I believe there’s no fanbase of Kamen Rider in the west practically.”

So now, let’s dissect the whole situation, from fansubbing, streaming and official releases to Shirakura and the Western fanbase.

Fansubbing, streaming and official releases: le Happy Merchant intensifies

There was a time when TV-Nihon held a monopoly in tokusatsu fansubbing, subbing series that other people normally wouldn’t have cared about, including the Chouseishin and Tomica Hero series. They were known for their mistakes in translation and extensive use of different fonts and effects, which led to groups like Over-Time springing up over the past decade in an effort to diversify the fansubbing scene and break up TV-Nihon’s monopoly. (It’s time to #ReleaseTheFonts, TV-Nihon. Get that hashtag trending.) Though TV-Nihon seem to have this unspoken rule to not mention other sub groups on their forums, the recent C&D debacle has resulted in a truce of sorts between them.

Many tokusatsu fans outside of Japan will have known of the genre through fansubs and I am no exception. It’s very likely that for a long time, Japanese executives thought the only toku Westerners liked was Power Rangers, but in recent years, the increasing popularity of tokusatsu in the West has led to companies like Toei and Tsuburaya drawing up plans to release their series in the West. Presumably due to the two companies’ different attitudes to copyright, their IPs are being treated differently, as I will detail.

Tsuburaya - Based and redpilled For some reason, Ultraman is a franchise that very few fansub groups have cared about over the years, which makes Tsuburaya’s Western expansion that much more special.

Before 2018, Crunchyroll streamed Leo, 80, Gaia, Nexus, Max, Mebius, Ginga (S), X, Orb and Geed, but they have now been removed from the platform as Mill Creek Blu-rays, TokuHD, TokuSHOUTsu and Tsuburaya’s YouTube channel became more prolific.

Tsuburaya has been streaming the newest episodes of Ultraman weekly on their YouTube channel since 2012, presumably because their coverage on TV Tokyo and their affiliates don’t cover all of Japan. They have added Chinese subtitles to their episodes since either Geed or R/B and even though their translations of some names can be a bit autistic, they have added English subtitles to their episodes since Z following the release of Ultra Galaxy Fight: New Generation Heroes with dual audio and multi-language subtitles (including English). Alongside reruns of older series, Tsuburaya releases episodes on YouTube every week, which are then available for two weeks. In addition, they also have separate channels where they publish dubs for Ultraman episodes in Mandarin, Korean and even Cantonese (official TVB Tiga-Mebius dub release when), which is pretty based if you ask me.

Tsuburaya doesn’t seem to do takedowns of their materials on YouTube, though they do claim ownership of the material posted by other channels so that ad revenue goes to them. It’s the reason why whole series of Ultraman and various compilations using footage from various episodes are still surviving on YouTube today. Cynically though, I suspect that the main reason they don’t do takedowns is because they can’t afford to following years of financial problems and their decades-long conflict with Chaiyo Productions. They probably thought that it wouldn’t be worth it.

Toei - Cringe and bluepilled Is it any wonder that the one company with the more popular series amongst a niche fanbase would be so Jewish with their copyrights? While entire series and various compilations have been taken down by Toei over the years (which they technically have the right to do), they don’t give fans (particularly outside of the US) a lot of options to support them officially, so they only dug this hole for themselves. It’s also very naive of people to presume that Toei doesn’t know about fansubs; it would be fair to say that it’s an open secret that neither Toei nor fansub groups can acknowledge for fear of legal retribution.

From 2015 to 2019, Shout! Factory have released Super Sentai series from Jetman (the first pre-Mighty Morphin series to be released in the West) to Hurricaneger, but since Power Rangers was sold from Saban to Hasbro, Shout! Factory have not regained the rights to distribute any further series and Toei hasn’t done much lobbying in that regard. However, Shout! Factory have begun streaming some Kamen Rider series from 2020 on TokuSHOUTsu (Shout! Factory TV) and Tubi (in addition to the Super Sentai series they had already licenced), namely the original series, Kuuga, Ryuki, Zero-One and the Heisei Generations FOREVER movie. Agito and 555 are streaming on TokuHD (as I mentioned before) and Amazons is streaming on Amazon Prime.

While Toei does have an official tokusatsu YouTube channel, where they stream their library of series similar to how Tsuburaya does with their YouTube channel, it is only available in Japan. In April 2020, Toei began uploading their series on Toei Tokusatsu World, a separate YouTube channel created specifically for their Western fans that immediately got taken down by copyright strikes on their own content. Aside from streaming Metal Hero series and other toku series nobody cares about, they’ve only bothered to upload the first two episodes of every Kamen Rider series on there, with no plans to follow through with the rest of the episodes (Super Sentai is only available in Asia because of the last paragraph). Apparently, the official subtitled release of the first two Kamen Rider episodes was funded by the J-LOD scheme (Japan Content LOcalisation and Distribution) established by the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry and that they hope that fans would provide subtitles for the rest of the episodes. The only problem is that YouTube discontinued its community captions feature last year and I have been unable to find any evidence of Toei suggesting such a thing from their fans, so I can only assume that they either weren’t transparent about it or had no intention of doing so at all. You can see why I prefer Tsuburaya’s approach better. Frankly, I think Toei should have just uploaded TV-Nihon’s releases and called it a day.

There’s a Europoor sperg on Twitter (and the TV-Nihon forums) by the name of HowlingSnail who always complains about tokusatsu series only being licensed in the US. Like him or not, you’ve got to admit that he does have a point. Even in the age of VPNs and multi-region DVD players, the entire world has to be considered when it comes to international licencing and expansion because believe it or not, the “West” isn’t made up of just the US alone. Things shouldn’t have to be like this, and yet, things are the way they are.

Around the time that TV-Nihon (apparently) got C&D’d, Western fans were pissed that The Tokusatsu Network posted news of Toei streaming Kamen Rider Drive on their Japanese-exclusive channel, rubbing salt into their wounds, while also not saying anything about the current situation with fansubs. In TokuNet’s defence, I can understand why they wouldn’t do that; on top of being based in Japan, they’ve done interviews with various actors and producers on their YouTube channel, plus their senior editor, Tom Constantine, has made cameo appearances on a few episodes and movies. So if anything, TokuNet are closer to Toei than any other news site covering tokusatsu.

In summary, Toei are complicit in enabling this shitstorm that could have been preventable if they weren’t so incompetent and out-of-touch with their Western fanbase. If more scrutiny was exercised during the negotiation of Western licencing, we probably wouldn’t have had the TokuHD disaster. If Toei were more transparent with their intentions for streaming their toku series in the West, fansub groups would be more than happy to contribute to the official subtitles and/or take their (unofficial) releases down (though I don’t necessarily agree with this practice entirely). Or maybe if Toei actually made a media release saying that it was actually them who sent the C&D’s to KRDL, NewZect and TV-Nihon, we wouldn’t have had this debacle and this post would just be me talking about the death knell for tokusatsu fansubs (which would probably be just this section of the post).

In the lack of free and easily accessible means to access media protected behind paywalls and geoblocks, people will always turn to things like “illegal” streaming sites and torrenting, particularly when they believe that multi-million dollar companies don’t deserve their hard-earned money just because they keep bugging everyone to give it all to them.

(Also, I know someone called me out in one of my linked posts where I described Toei’s attitude to copyright as “Jewish”, but fuck you, my stance doesn’t change just because a few people got their fee-fees hurt from poking their noses into other people’s business. If Toei changes their attitude and gives us a plan for international distribution, then I might soften my stance.)

Shirakura and the Western fanbase: lolcows in their own right

So it’s been established that it’s a bad idea to tag Shirakura or anyone affiliated with Toei regarding this situation with the TV-Nihon C&D (or fansubs or leaks or whatever in general) because we don’t have the full details and they probably have no idea of what’s going on. Look, I know Shirakura is worthy of criticism for some things, but this is not one of them because he is the director of planning and production at Toei - he’s not responsible for international distribution or copyright takedowns. All that these spergs on TokuTwitter have done is prove that Shirakura has no idea what is going on and made Japanese fans aware (to some extent) that spergs like them exist. The irony behind Shirakura’s actions as the producer of some Kamen Rider series and his interactions with Western fans is the reason why I lovingly coin “The Shirakura Paradox” as a phrase to describe it.

I’ve noticed that a lot of people on TokuTwitter are very paranoid and reactionary. They believe in conspiracy theories like “TV-Nihon actually got C&D’d” and “Over-Time got C&D’d as well” when 1) the notice they got wasn’t a C&D per se or even a DMCA and 2) Over-Time never got C&D’d, though they did help TV-Nihon analyse the email and decided to stop posting about their releases when they were convinced that the email was somewhat legit (because a Toei email can’t be faked due to the Sender Policy Framework, or SPF).

With regards to the “reactionary” part, the main example relating to this is twt_tokusatsu, who has been blamed for causing this debacle with fansubs because Shirakura replied to her tweets (that did NOT mention fansubs) with a joke. However, another big example is WeiWenn and Ichi of the Castranger podcast. “What?”, I hear you ask in a surprised tone, “What do they have to do with all this?” If you want to know the story behind them, take a look at my Shirakura Paradox post under “You are supposed not to know about Trinity”.

I know this debacle was two years ago and that Ichi has deserved enough blame (and apologised) for posting scans from a toy catalog targeted at distributors and not consumers, but why the hell is WeiWenn being blamed when he only mentioned “Trinity” (in verbatim) possibly referring to Agito Trinity and not Zi-O Trinity? WeiWenn has been sent death threats because entitled manbabies with gunts can never read the latest leaks about new toys. As a result, WeiWenn has deleted his Twitter account, claiming that Shirakura’s joke was the last straw (Ichi has also deleted his Twitter account as well). Anyone who blames WeiWenn (or Ichi) for somehow causing the TV-Nihon C&D’s is just as retarded, if not more, than the people who still blame twt_tokusatsu, especially when the damage has already been done and the debacle is already two years old. As such, I stand behind #RespectWeiWenn and #RespectIchi. For more information, check out this Twitter thread and the below video.

youtube

Things like this are the reason why the tokusatsu fanbase in the West is seemingly on thin ice with Toei. If you ask me, TokuTwitter as a whole deserves to be discussed and mocked on sites like 4chan and Kiwi Farms, because some individuals seem to act in a manner resembling lolcows. On top of that, I wish that tokusatsu fans in Japan would talk more about this retardation and join in the circlejerking with their Western counterparts who are more sophisticated and logical.

In conclusion, the whole debacle with Toei and TV-Nihon has been a ticking time bomb fuelled by Toei’s incompetence and lack of awareness of their Western fanbase, who are no saints either with their lolcow attitudes. Tsuburaya is pretty based with their international distribution and TV-Nihon’s typesetters should #ReleaseTheFonts.

#tokusatsu #kamen rider #super sentai #ultraman #tv-nihon #releasethefonts #respectweiwenn #respectichi

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cristalknife · 4 years ago

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Kadam Week 2021 Day 3 ~ I did not plan for this, but I'm glad you found a solution

This is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the third prompt is Love Letters

During most of the story Kurt and Adam are either away from each other or working at a summer camp around kids there's not much on the side of the description of them being all coupley but I think you could tell anyway they are more than just friends...

I still hope you'll give this a chance and have a good time reading it, so here we go, I present to you I did not plan for this, but I'm glad you found a solution (or read on ao3)

When Kurt signed up for a theatre summer camp for kids as a summer work project, he had honestly thought it was going to be in New York, for he was absolutely sure there was no mention of the camp being strongly discouraging taking electronics especially phones due to lack of data and mobile coverage.

He did recheck once he got home, nowhere it was written that they would have the camp in the middle of nowhere, where the no electronics rule was happily enforced by Mother Nature.

And to make things even worse Adam was flying back to the UK for two of the six weeks Kurt was going to be at the camp…

So even if Kurt managed to go into the town on his free day, and somehow the quaint small town, that was not yet willing to join the XXI century, still had a serviceable land phone, trying an international call was out of his wallet’s options.

Not if he was to take into account just how much he would miss his boyfriend.

It was even worse when Adam just patted his back when both of them met to go together at the airport before flying to their respective destinations.

To his immense surprise, once he reached the camp and his bungalow the camp’s director had a grin on her face and offered him a letter.

Upon taking a closer look a surprised smile appeared on his face.

It seemed his boyfriend had taken notice of how down he was about the whole situation and sent him a letter.

Knowing he had something to look forward to, Kurt managed to concentrate on getting familiar with the place and the other camp counsellors and instructors…

The lighter heart had been a blessing, and while he hadn’t suddenly acquired new bffs, he did manage to learn that the camp had every year an influx of three to five new counsellors.

Mostly all freshmen or second semester students, who had been fibbed into accepting the position, usually those were the ones who had something of value to share, at least in the opinion of their school's teachers.

It wasn’t until late in the evening when Kurt was in his room that he took the time to unpack properly that he found a box he was completely sure he never saw before.

Upon opening it Kurt found it was a stationary box, with adorable doodles on the letters’ paper and exactly six envelopes already with stamps and already addressed to Adam at his parent's place in the UK.

The amount sheets for the letters though was way higher and there were just as many remaining white envelopes to last Kurt the remaining of the month that was not covered by the first two weeks in which Adam was still on the other side of the ocean.

After placing the stationary box on his bedside table Kurt went for the letter that Adam had sent for him to receive upon arrival.

"Dearest Kurt,

I know you weren't expecting a lot of things about this experience, I hope you'll find it fun and enlighten. If I know you as well as I believe I do, by now you've already discovered that this specific camping program had the peculiarity of attracting every year few freshmen or second semester students recommended for the job. All of them usually arriving in here not knowing at all about the lack of modern commodities like data and mobile coverage.

All those students are one that the professors of their schools believe could learn something from the experience, and would be able to not only cope but excel in the challenge posed to them.

Some of the older counsellors have been in the same position you are in right now and then decided to return year after year.

I'm also pretty sure you've already found my parting gift in your suitcase, I know we were thinking of spending more time together and that the news of six weeks with no way of staying in contact with each other had been hard on you.

Don't worry my love, it has worked for thousands of lovers before, and if you’re amenable and desires to, then we can make do with writing letters while we are not able to talk with more modern means.

Usually it takes about a couple of days for a letter to cross the ocean and arrive at its destination. The first couple of letters you'll receive from me were sent before we left, so they could reach you and allow me to be able to put a smile on your face even without being present.

If you don't feel like writing then still please make pictures and send me proof that you're having a good time?

The camp’s director has a printer so don't try to wiggle your way out of this, because my darling I will write to you even if you'll leave me all alone to be a starstruck pining lover.

Know that I love you, and that I believe you will find the experience worthwhile in the end.

With all my love,

Adam"

Kurt was almost in tears by the time he reached the end of the letter and he shook his head grinning, Adam was absolutely wrong if he thought for a single moment that Kurt wouldn't return the sweet gesture choosing to send pictures instead.

Still as they hadn't been together that much yet there had not been a chance yet for Adam to actually see Kurt's own calligraphy set.

It was a pity he hadn't thought of taking it with him, in his misery upon the news of no electronics and no connectivity he had not thought of alternative slower ways to obtain the same result.

In his defence though, he had been under the false impression that there would be at least data coverage until right before leaving, at which point he had already packed and taken everything that he needed already and it was too late to return home and pick alternatives.

Reassigning himself to make do with a normal pen he started jetting down what was going to be the first of quite a few letters. Would they still be considered love letters since they did express the sentiment and were sent between lovers? Kurt wasn't completely sure, but the thought made him grin and blush at the same time.

"My dearest, Adam,

you wonderful man have no idea how much it means to me that you went through all the trouble of arranging this wonderful surprise for me. A way to stay in touch with you while we're apart, I confess by the time I realised how things were going to be, I was too frantic despairing to think that quickly such a simple and elegant solution.

My love, I do hope you were simply offering me an alternative to making sure I would not leave you completely alone and in the dark about how things were going for me when you mentioned eventually sending you prints of pictures.

There is no way I’d leave you pining on your lonesome, especially not while you take such attentive care to my own needs and you made sure to prevent me from suffering such fate.

There will be time to show you all the pictures I'll take, once we're together again and we can spend time in each other's arms.

You might not know yet, but by now you might have noticed that I do have an appreciation for calligraphy, and despite having to do with the poor mean of a roll pen there is no way I could waste this brilliant opportunity to write you a proper love letter.

As you rightly guessed I managed to talk with some of the other counsellors and figured out that there were few returning seniors, and the other first timers were just as blindsided as I was.

The camp’s director had a knowing smile when she handed me your letter. I suspect the others you mentioned were already in her possession but that she would pace releasing them into my hands.

Despite the brief panic you witnessed before leaving, I'm not really that averse to a nice break and being unavailable, but I usually prefer the chance to prepare and be ready for that.

I was very worried for my dad, I sent him a message while I was still in town and talked to the camp’s director about my worries and that I had left a message down at the town’s post office. I'll let you in on a secret, there is a working line in her office, under key of course.

But she allowed me to make a call to my dad when no one was looking, so that if something was to happen I would be reachable, even if I'm officially off the grid until my return to the big city life.

It was a big relief and it lifted another big weight from my shoulders.

I am so happy you thought of this, and I can't wait to hear more of your adventures from back home, as I'll share the adventures from into the woods...

With all my sincere love and admiration

Yours truly

Kurt"

To Kurt's surprise one of the breakfast rituals was the collection and distribution of the mail. With the announcement that even when the kids would arrive, this was going to be a daily ritual. As counsellors they were to encourage the kids to write back home, especially the ones feeling homesick.

As Kurt had suspected, there was a new letter for him on that day as well, and like the previous one, he kept it for the evening to cheer himself up before going to bed.

As Adam has said in his second letter, indeed once the kids arrived it all became at the same time easier and harder.

Easier because the feeling of loneliness and missing Adam had to be put on the back burner during the day. And the letters kept Kurt happy and cherished during the evenings after he socialised with his peers sharing stories of the day with the others.

Harder because his kids were all super excited and easily excitable. In all honesty they reminded Kurt a lot of how he remembered feeling when he was a little younger than them and he still qualified for the Lima theatre summer camp...

By the end of the first week, once every one of his kids had sent at least one letter home, Kurt finally figured out why he had been assigned them. All of them came from small Ohio towns that, like Lima, wouldn't have catered for their artistic inclinations. Kurt made a mental note to check with the head if it had been a coincidence or not.

On the weekend of the second week, once the first period ended and the first turnover happened, the camp’s director announced that more counsellors were going to join them to help out with the new influx of kids since they would be at full capacity from there on until the end of the program.

On sunday’s morning Kurt had run late for breakfast because one of his kids who was going to stay for longer than two weeks, was not finding one of their shoes, and they had to find it before they could join the others.

With things being that way, when he entered the dining hall, all the new counsellors had already been introduced and the mail was being delivered.

Kurt guided his kid to their table and in less than three minutes all his kids still present were giggling and looking ready to burst, while attempting to appear normal. Before Kurt could turn and check what was so funny Adam's letter was being held in front of him by a very familiar hand, with an equally familiar bracelet hugging the wrist.

Kurt automatically grabbed the letter and he turned to find himself face to face with Adam.

Both their eyes shining with happiness, "Hellu Kurt. Surprise"

Kurt grinned and bit his lower lip, the giggling kids at his back reminding him that there was still work to do "Hellu Adam, I should have known you'd be one of the returning seniors, I look forward working together."

Adam nodded still smiling "As I do, I'll let you go back to your day now. I’ll see you later."

Kurt smiled brilliantly and nodded back "I'll see you later, have a good day"

The kids, as Kurt suspected had been super curious and with it being the last day for some, he indulged them in revealing that indeed that was the same friend Adam who had written to Kurt keeping him from feeling homesick in the previous weeks.

That evening once the new kids had been safely tucked in bed Kurt finally had a moment to properly greet his boyfriend "I am so happy to see you in here, though you could have told me you were going to join me in here once you got back to the states."

Adam smiled softly kissing Kurt's temple "But then you would have lived waiting for this day instead of making the most of those past couple of weeks. And maybe you wouldn’t have cherished as much the letters we were exchanging. While we’re on that note. Thank you for yours, they were wonderful and I was so happy to receive them."

Kurt smiled with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped tightly around Adam's waist "They were a balm and the one thing I kept for myself as an evening ritual. Sitting on my bed and reading your letter. I didn't have any day so bad that I had to read them before evening, which is what I had reasoned could be a good coping mechanism. Keep your letter for the night when it was private time, or as comfort if things went south and I couldn't handle them before night fell."

Adam hummed softly murmuring "I'm glad for that."

The next monday’s morning set up the pattern for the rest of their stay. They would both take their kids to breakfast and find a letter in a white envelope with their name and the camp’s address waiting for them to be delivered, just like it had happened for the past two weeks for Kurt.

The remaining month passed in no time at all, the day passed quickly and the evenings were filled with laughters and making new friends while sharing stories with the other counsellors.

Once it was Kurt’s turn for the final interview to wrap up the whole experience, the camp’s director before parting asked curious “So was Adam right? Were you able to see just how many families were touched and gained from your father’s work?”

Kurt looked taken aback so he asked confused “What do you mean?”

She smiled kindly and proceeded to explain “All the kids you took care of, they were all able to be here this summer because your father campaigned and set up a fund for supporting the arts in small towns. He had to prove that there was the request for such support, and he had been challenged to demonstrate it could work starting from the state he was representing.”

Kurt bit his lips “A state notoriously not that art oriented”

She nodded grinning, “And I can tell you we had to limit the acceptance because there are ratios we need to respect for security reasons. But all those kids you took care of came from just as many families who benefited from your dad’s work. Adam was the one who suggested you be their mentor during their stay. And I think he was right, the families and the kids themselves think that too, as every single one of your kids was ecstatic that someone like them had made it and reached his dream school.”

Kurt felt tears forming in his eyes, so he started to try blinking them away. Emotions made it a little difficult but he still managed to say a grateful “Thank you” before leaving and searching for Adam.

Once Kurt found him he hugged his boyfriend tightly and said in a low voice “Thank you for all you’ve done for me this summer, I never thought I’d see first hand the results of my dad’s work. I knew what it meant for me and how I wished those were opportunities I had, but I never suspected it was going to reaching so far and so many.”

Adam held Kurt just as tightly and said back softly “I know you were so worried for your dad earlier on during the semester. So I wanted you to realise that your dad is important for a whole lot more people than you even realise. That no matter how difficult things might get, you’re not alone in wishing the best for your dad.”

Kurt then raised his face from Adam’s chest and said grinning “And you also wanted to make sure I’d fell in love with this camp as much as you are so next year we’d come here together…”

Adam chuckled but didn’t deny the playful accusation.

By the time autumn came around and leases were up, they moved in together, and during moving day it was discovered how each kept their letters into a special boxes safe and easily accessible.

When christmas came around the couple took part into a papermaking and bookbinding crafting course.

By the following valentine’s day each set of letters had been lovingly built into a ecoleather bound diary containing all the letters the couple exchanged since their first ones the previous summer. ~The End~ AN: One last thing that's more a game, if you found the small easter egg in the story, feel free to reach back to me, I can bake you your fave virtual cookie, or make a story out of a prompt you have in mind/wish to see. (hint it's from Hamilton...)

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam glee #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #vcg73 #my kadam fic #my glee fic #summer camp #~3K words of story

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worldofsufis · 4 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞

The painful events that are occurring in Palestine right now will eventually come to an end just as previous iterations of these events have also come to an end. But as we pay attention to the details of the issues taking place, we must not forget the root cause, because it was the cause for all the problems of the past and it will remain so into the future.

The root of everything that is happening in Palestine now is that radical groups professing the ideology of Zionism aggressed upon a land in which Christians, Muslims, Jews, and Samaritans were living in peace. They perpetrated massacres and evicted much of those populations, after which they announced the creation of a new state in 1948, the leaders of which were from those groups. The world community recognised this new state at the time, and in 1967 it expanded its territorial occupation to encroach further into Palestinian land. Today, the world community is a mere spectator to this occupation despite officially recognising it as illegitimate. The fact that we are now in the third millennium and there still exists a state in the world that is incessant in committing the crime of occupation without a care for the Declaration of Human Rights and UN Conventions, and without receiving a real reaction from the UN and the so-called civilised world that may deter the occupier from its occupation, is evidence enough of the spectator status of the world community.

The occupiers are persecuting the people of Palestine and hampering their capacity to have a livelihood. Over 80% of the people of East Jerusalem live in a state of poverty and destitution that has been imposed on them. They are denied the basic rights of freedom to worship and living a dignified life. Their homes and farms are usurped from them. Their general rights are denied to them. Those Palestinians who hold the occupier’s nationality are treated with discrimination. The Gaza Strip is sealed off. Gaza is the most densely populated place on earth with a population density of approximately 5000 people per square kilometre. It has been under a blockade for 15 years and has a 60% unemployment rate. Settlements have and continue to be built in the West Bank for the benefit of usurpers with no connection to the land and who have been imported in from around the world on the basis of their religion and ethnicity. Women and children are killed and houses are razed to the ground. Extremist rabbis justify the killing of Palestinian women and children yet there is no criminalisation of their terrorist rhetoric. Palestinian refugees are denied the possibility of ever returning.

The occupier has been complicit in desecrating the sacred symbols of two billion Muslims. In 1969, Al-Aqsa was burnt. Affronts to its sanctity continue until today and are too numerous to list.

All of this occurs under the sight and support of the self-proclaimed “civilised” world and “advanced” countries; the same countries who peddle the slogan of “human” rights and use it to look down upon us every so often by delivering lectures to our countries about respecting “human” rights!

There are many other issues that result from the simple fact of the occupation’s existence:

• The impulsive and aggressive actions of the heads of the occupying state towards the Palestinians, as and when their political life requires it;

• the bias of many of the world’s most powerful states towards the occupation and the submissiveness of others to powerful lobbies that are supportive of the occupation;

• the exploitation by some of these states of the events that occur as a result of the occupation for their own power play;

• the attempts by some of the states in the Arab region to use the resistance as a tool for their own political and expansionist ambitions;

• the deviation of some of the Palestinian factions from a correct path of resistance and them dragging internal political conflicts, regional struggles, and international politics into the issue and thereby clouding the real essence of the Palestinian cause.

All of these issues are merely outcomes of the fact of occupation and the acceptability of its continued existence. Without occupation, these issues would not exist.

We may also add that the existence of disorganised Palestinian factions, some classified as “terrorist”, are merely a symptom among the many symptoms of the occupation. In the event of there being a real, independent, capable, and stable state, non-state actors could have no recourse to leadership. The experience of countries such as Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan (among others) testify to this, for in the face of many destabilising attempts of organisations and movements, aided by monetary, media, and even weapons’ support, as well as the attempts of regional and global states to apply pressure to them politically, economically, and under the pretext of human rights, these states have managed to maintain their stability.

If we continue to deal only with the outcomes of the occupation while neglecting the root and essence of the issue then we simply return back to the same problems that repeat themselves. In the end, it is Palestinian lives that pay the price.

Some people and groups exploit the plight of the Palestinian people and use it to support their own agenda of bringing down governments in the Arab region through inciting and provoking the masses against the state in the name of supporting Al-Aqsa. This not only betrays the Palestinian cause but deals a fatal blow to the dwindling attachment and empathy our people feel towards the issue, weakens the capacity that regional states have in standing in solidarity with Jerusalem and Al-Aqsa, and confounds the role these states play in dealing with the greater crises that have been occurring in recent years. At the end of this all, it is the Palestinian who will pay the price with his blood, shelter, and ability.

In closing: Allah’s promise is true, whether much time passes or little. A day will come in which Al-Aqsa and the blessed land of Palestine will be liberated. The question, however, is how each one of us fulfils our present duty: first, by maintaining steadfastness on obedience to Allah, repenting from sin, standing at His door, increasing in our realisation of certainty, and then by taking the means. These include:

• Developing our countries, healing their fractures, lifting them from being in a state of want and helplessness, and fulfilling the communal obligation of making them self-sufficient in terms of their farming, industry, education, economics, defence, and innovation. We all must work towards these ends from the place that Allah has placed us in.

• Strengthening our children’s connection to their identity, language, faith, nationality, and culture, and acquainting them with the issue of Al-Aqsa and planting the seeds of love, connection, and support for its cause in their hearts.

• Working earnestly to disseminate the truth about the root cause of the Palestinian issue, in all languages and all media platforms, and to document this truth as much as we can, for this is something that is within the realm of our capacity and it is the duty of our time.

• Donating financially to help our brothers and sisters in Palestine for those who are able to do so, making sure they use non-partisan and reputable charities and organisations such as the UNWRA.

• Travelling to Al-Aqsa and increasing the awareness of people to do so. Such visitations should be “guided” - that is, visitors should arrange their tours with Palestinian groups and companies, enter Palestine through Jordan, use Palestinian owned transport, stay in Palestinian owned hotels, eat in Palestinian owned restaurants, and shop in Palestinian owned shops. If masses did this regularly, a year would not pass except the grounds of Al-Aqsa would be bustling with visitors from all over the world just as the two holy sanctuaries of Makka and Madina are. The occupier will have little room to intrude on Al-Aqsa and all factions of the occupation will see for themselves that aggression against the sanctity of Al-Aqsa is an affront to two billion Muslims and not just the Palestinians.

And before all of this and after it: we plead to Allah in prayer, having certainty in our hearts that prayer has an effect, and knowing that prayer is what we depend on to change our state of affairs.

“Those whose faith only increased when people said, ‘Fear your enemy: they have amassed a great army against you,’ and who replied, ‘Allah is enough for us: He is the best protector (HasbunAllah wa ni’ma-l Wakil).” (Al-Imran: 173)

Allah is enough for us: He is the best protector.

Allah is enough for us: He is the best protector,

May Allah protect Masjid Al-Aqsa, extend support to the guardians who are stationed on its blessed grounds, relieve the Palestinian people of their plight, and awaken the umma from being heedless of the duty it bears to give it assistance and aid, Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum.

— Habib Ali Al-Jifri

#savesheikhjarrah

#Gaza_Under_Attack

#PalestineUnderAttack

#humanity

#AlAqsa

#SaveGaza

#savepalestine

#FreePalestine

#Alquds

#الاقصى

#GazaUnderAttack

#Palestine

#Gaza

#PalestinianLivesMatter

#palestinian #palestine #gaza #gazaunderattack #gaza under attack #freegaza #freepalestine #free gaza #al aqsa #المسجد الأقصى

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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TLTNL- THE LION AND THE SERPENT

Lily wished she had a whistle herself to get the boys attention sometimes, but finally she'd wrangled them all around one table which did nothing to cease their desire to talk about that room.

She even engaged in a few of their more reasonable questions, like speculation of what would happen if more than one person asked for different things of the room for something at the same time. Harry and his friends were all asking for a similar request, but would the room have two doors appear, combine the two requests as it did for the trio, or remain empty until one more solid thing was asked of. While no one had an actual answer for any of this, it was still fun to speculate. When the meal was over Lily happily nursed baby Harry and laid him down for a proper nap, and when she finally settled down to continue it took the boys a moment to realize she was reading without their even paying attention. It took James pleading with her to start over so they could all hear.

Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks.

"A worthy secret then," Sirius grinned for his old memories of feeling the same.

A secret that kept him smiling through Umbridge's useless lessons as he easily met her bulging eyes.

"A miracle I'm not sure I could share," Remus crinkled his nose.

The DA's magical ability only grew from their first meeting, Harry often reflecting on their progress while pretending to read the assigned text for his Defence class.

Lily was watching Harry preen with more pride than she'd yet seen, and it was for others accomplishments. She'd loved her son the moment he was born, and seeing him glow with pride at seeing others accomplishments after just a little bit of help from himself truly made her realize he may have found his own calling in this field.

It became nearly impossible for their group to have a fixed schedule what with accompanying three separate Quidditch team practices and the paralleling weather, but this Harry supposed as a good thing. If anyone was watching them, it would be impossible to pin down a non existent schedule for their meetings.

"Indeed, unpredictability is always better," Sirius agreed enthusiastically.

Hermione even came up with a better method of communicating when these would occur by handing out fake Galleons at the end of their third meeting, causing Ron some excitement at first.

"Did he think she'd come into inheritance and was being generous, donating to a worthy cause?" James chuckled.

Lily shushed him and kept going curiously how a coin helped with this.

Hermione explained to the whole group about the numbers around the edge, normally just a serial number, but she'd designed them to all be exactly the same. When Harry changed his numbers, that would be the corresponding date of the next meeting, and the Protean charm she'd placed on them would make all of them change with his.

Lily finished with utter exasperation at herself for still being so impressed with Hermione. Doing a sixth year potion in her second year had been impressive enough, now Hermione was showing how advanced she was in Charms as well, was there any subject, anything she couldn't do without putting her mind to it?

The Marauders were just as impressed. They'd never thought they'd find anything more impressive than fifth years being able to pull off becoming animagus', but it was clear enough to them Hermione would have already been able to do this as well if she'd set her mind to it, and that meant far more to them than any grade she'd ever get.

Hermione was met with stunned silence from the DA, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw demanding how she could perform a Protean Charm, that was NEWT level magic, how come she wasn't in his house.

"We've all been wondering that since her first year," Remus rolled his eye.

"I suppose she asked the hat for Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw and got Gryffindor anyways?" Harry recalled a previous conversation about how the Marauders guessed people got put into houses.

"That would be our guess," Sirius agreed. "As far as I can tell, even after everything we've seen of her, she still seems to value intelligence over, well everything."

Harry said back in defense of his friend, "After the rules she's broken? The laws? I know Hermione puts much more value into our friendship than her grades ever could."

"That's not just a Gryffindor trait though, Ravenclaw's have strong bonds of friendship as well," Remus shrugged. "It's what the hat perceives as the way you'd learn best, and being brave enough to put up your opinion put her in with her lot."

James and Sirius exchanged an amused look but stopped arguing the point. Lily had kept her mouth shut because she'd never liked the idea of sorting at all. One particular Gryffindor coming to mind who most anyone would have called a Slytherin if they knew what he'd done, Lockhart was a blithering idiot, Zacharias Smith had already proven to be an arrogant little thing from the humble house, and her favorite teacher in school had been all the qualities Slytherin house prided itself on without turning into a Death Eater. She would never think of anyone as something just because of what house they were in.

Hermione agreed the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting her into Ravenclaw,

"Why would she call me the Sorting Hat?" Sirius asked while ducking on instinct, though Remus only rolled his eyes that time.

but obviously she'd been put in Gryffindor instead. Then she kept focus, asking if everyone agreed on using the coins. There was no argument, and as they each took one and Harry examined his own, he told Hermione these reminded him of the Death Eater's marks, how Voldemort touched one and they all reacted.

"Maybe the Order should invest in something like this," James said as he thought it through. "These really can come in handy, so long as you don't lose them."

"Or accidentally sell them," Sirius chuckled.

"How do you know about meetings now?" Harry asked.

"Fawkes appears to us when we're alone with a note," Remus grinned. "How he always knows when to appear away from everyone I've only been able to guess at."

Hermione agreed she'd gotten the idea from that, but she'd seen this better than branding members.

"So much more deniability if you get caught with it," Lily said grimly.

Harry agreed he liked this better, only danger in these was a chance of spending them.

Ron said sullenly he wasn't worried about that, he didn't have another one to mix it up with.

They all winced hard for that line, wishing there was something they could say, knowing there wasn't.

DA meetings were put on hold two weeks before the first match as Angelina was demanding nightly practices. Tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin was always high, but was now turning into daily scuffles as well between the two houses. The teachers were trying to show they weren't taking sides, but Harry realized how much McGonagall cared about this game when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.

Sirius and James whooped with laughter at Harry's face as he got to partake in their old head of house's favor for her Quidditch team. Both of them were giddy with such excitement for finally getting another game they'd yet to complain about the fact they hadn't gotten this chapter.

When this announcement was met with stunned faces in class, she turned grim eyes to Harry and Ron and told them to use this extra time to train hard, she'd grown too accustomed to seeing the Cup in her office.

The other three joined in the laughter as well, all imagining how many times McGonagall had looked to that Cup and smirked.

Snape was no less obviously partisan;

"But that part's not unusual," James grumbled less harsh than normal because he was still grinning for his own head of house.

he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindor's had difficulty getting on it to play.

"Wait, I thought you said the staff couldn't book the pitch for the team!" Harry yelped furiously.

"I, thought they couldn't," James's euphoria was instantly wiped clean in frustration. "At least, they used to not be able to, I can't imagine why Madam Hooch is letting him."

"I wouldn't even be that surprised if he was doing it around her noticing," Sirius grumbled in disgust.

He was also the worst in pretending no such fights ever took place, such as when Alicia Spinnet got put in the hospital wing because her hair was growing so thick and fast it was obscuring her eyes and mouth. Snape refused to punish the Slytherin who'd done it, despite the fourteen witnesses saying Bletchley had. He instead insisted the girl must have put a hair-thickening charm on herself and messed up.

Harry scowled in agitation that McGonagall hadn't been able to do anything either because the complaint had been set to Snape, though he didn't know why Alicia had done such a thing.

Lily saw red for a moment, hating this vile creature who continued to act like the very thing he'd hated as a child.

Harry still felt optimistic about their chances, as he'd never lost to Malfoy. Ron still wasn't up to Wood's old standards, but he performed very well when not under pressure. The problem turning out to be when he blundered once, he was far more likely to continue doing so.

"That is a really, really bad start," James muttered, bouncing in place as he tried to work on some advice in his head he'd offer Ron for that.

When he was on point though, Ron had shown off some spectacular saves, such as one memorable practice where he'd swung free from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so far away it went into the other team's hoop instead.

"Wow, sounds like Ron pulled off a Starfish and Stick," Sirius grinned for the talent.

The whole team had praised this, comparing it to the Irish International Keeper who'd performed this move. Fred and George had been so proud, they'd even seriously considered admitting Ron was related to them,

"I would never deny my relation to the Weasley's, it's one I'm actually proud of," Sirius grinned.

something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.

Lily tisked while the boys chuckled at the jab.

The closer the game approached though, the worse Ron continued to get. As Harry had been on the team for years now, he was well used to the buildup and resulting snide comments in the corridors, such as Pansy's whispered threat that Warrington was promising to knock Potter clear from his broom. Harry responded by laughing that Warrington's aim was so bad, he'd be more worried for the person next to him.

Harry grinned as it caused those around him to laugh as well, nothing pleased him more than watching them laugh, at least when he was in on the joke.

Ron however had yet to respond in kind, instead turning green at every insult, or else shaking so bad he'd likely drop whatever he was holding.

"And here I thought Ron always wanted attention," Remus sighed.

"Clearly not this kind," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Well then this is a good lesson for him to learn, you don't just get one kind of attention," James said a little sourly.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold.

James and Sirius groaned in unison they'd missed out on a Quidditch chapter, but both kept their mouths silent from complaint, for now.

Harry awoke to find Ron in bed, knees pressed to his chest, his eyes gazing at nothing. Harry insisted he'd loosen up as soon as he ate some breakfast.

"Food does seem to make him feel better usually," Remus agreed.

The Great Hall seemed noisier than usual with so many talking excitedly about one thing. As they passed the Slytherin table, they all jeered as usual, but many of them waved at Ron while pointing at tiny little silver crown badges they were wearing and then laughing.

"More scare tactics," James scoffed.

Harry could tell there was something written on the badges, but was walking too fast to get Ron away from them to read what.

"Maybe Umbridge approved some new club," Lily said without much care, though she'd already rather hear about that than spend another chapter on a game where her son was likely to be injured, so she supposed she should enjoy the boredom while it lasted.

They received a much more welcoming arrival by fellow Gryffindor's, but if possible Ron found the cheer more depressing as he sank into his seat as if it were his last meal.

"And all he's going to get is cereal, what a disappointment," Sirius chuckled.

Whispering hoarsely to Harry he'd been mental to think he could do this.

"He's being too hard on himself, the first game is always the hardest," James said with honest sympathy this time.

Harry said he'd be great, it was normal to be nervous, and reminded him of his brilliant save even Fred and George had admired.

"The highest praise that can be offered," Sirius grinned.

Ron turned miserable eyes on his best mate as he admitted that had been an accident, he'd almost fallen off and hadn't even realized the Quaffle had been coming towards him.

Remus couldn't help snorting in surprise even while the other three boys huffed in disappointment, James and Sirius at least thinking they never would have admitted that and instead Ron should have learned how he'd done that and practiced more.

Harry had to scramble a moment to recover from shock before saying a few more accidents like that and the game was made.

Remus and Lily started giggling this time while the old players chose to ignore them.

Ginny and Hermione arrived as Harry finished his own bowl of cereal, Ron watching the dregs as if seriously considering drowning himself in them.

"I've never considered drowning myself in milk," Sirius said with his head cocked to the side, this time ignoring altogether as Remus smacked him upside the head as he continued, "but that one's original at least."

They asked how he was doing, and when he didn't answer, Harry assured he was just nervous. Hermione said that was normal, she was always anxious before exams.

"Because bringing up homework right now is really the way to make him feel better," James scoffed.

They were called from behind, and turned to see Luna smiling at them with a peculiar item on her head, a life size lion's head hat.

Lily paused for a moment to take that one in while Sirius immediately clapped his hand to his forehead and cried, "how could I never have thought of that?!"

"Because you were on the team with me," James was grinning even as he rolled his eyes at Sirius, "why would you ever think to make something like that?"

"Because it's brilliant!" Sirius' grin kept stretching wider by the second the more he thought about this, before swatting Remus on the arm and demanding, "Moony, why didn't you ever think of this?!"

"I apologize," Remus said, and Harry couldn't tell how much sarcasm was in that.

She gestured to the hat as if they'd missed it while informing them she was supporting Gryffindor for this match.

"You think she has one for Ravenclaw?" James chuckled.

"I think Harry would have noticed before now if he'd ever played against Ravenclaw and a student was wearing an eagle on their head," Lily smiled.

She'd even magicked it to roar like a lion, demonstrating as much when she tapped her wand against it and the whole hall jumped from the noise.*

Sirius gave an exaggerated yawn at the idea as he watched Lily's cat lick itself, he'd never been afraid of a cat in his life. The lion head had been a cool idea to support his team, but the sound effect would have just made him laugh.

Luna asked if they liked it.

"Yes," Remus agreed at once. "I'm curious what she made it out of."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask," Harry said honestly.

Then continued on saying she'd wanted to recreate a serpent tail being eaten to represent Slytherin, but she hadn't the time.

"Now there's an excellent use of crafts!" James beamed, "I think I finally see why some kids wanted an art class."

"Well when Harry beats Slytherin and they have a slight chance at a rematch, Luna can put it on in the meantime," Sirius chuckled, both boys missing the pained look Harry got for imagining himself in the next game...

Then she gave Ron a good luck wave as she walked off.

The three Chasers came over to collect the boys, but Harry assured they'd be down soon, he still wanted Ron to have some breakfast.

"Remember your first match and how you were too nervous to eat," Lily reminded him, "I don't think it's going to work dear."

"Well we finally found the way to make Ron not want food," Remus muttered to Sirius.

After ten more minutes though, it was clear Ron wasn't having it, so Harry moved to get him out of the Great Hall. Hermione gave him a hurried whisper before he left not to let Ron see those Slytherin badges.

"Why?" All five muttered to themselves, trying to figure out what that had to do with anything.

Then she wished both boys good luck, before standing on tiptoe and giving Ron a kiss on the cheek. Ron now looked more bewildered than ever as he touched the place as they left the Great Hall.

"Oh, so she didn't kiss you on the cheek as well?" Sirius switched to snickering about this now.

"Here's hoping that puts Ron in a better mood," Remus said cheerfully.

"Or it might just distract him," James scolded much to his friends amusement, now remembering how he'd reacted when Lily kissed him before his last game.

He was now so distracted Harry had the chance to read a badge as he passed the table even while getting Ron outside quickly as possible, and saw the tiny words Weasley is our King.

"I'm confused," Sirius said slowly, knowing he was supposed to be angry but not sure at what yet.

Lily however kept reading while beaming, and it took the boys a minute to guess what she thought those were. Lily was probably hoping some of the Slytherin's were finally starting to show some equal support for both houses, and none of them were going to be the one to burst her bubble, though they were all thinking if it was anything like that Hermione wouldn't have told Harry not to let Ron see them. Lily was probably just discounting what Hermione thought they were though like she was to them.

Harry at once knew they weren't anything good as he led Ron outside. The frost covered grass crunched under their feet, the weak sun above making all visible without being cumbersome, and there was no wind.

"Sounds like perfect conditions," James said wistfully, he really was looking forward to a game soon that he could play in again.

Even when Harry pointed all these things out, Ron still seemed more distracted than anything, and this kept up even as they went into the locker rooms to change and Ron tried to put his uniform on backwards for several minutes before Alicia took pity on him.

"I don't see why they couldn't have been left like that," Remus couldn't help but poke fun just as he always did to his friends when they needed it whether Ron was here or not.

The crowd outside was already thundering into the stadiums as Angelina began telling them she'd only just gotten the final line-up for the Slytherin team.

"Typical of any team to hand that over last minute," James rolled his eyes.

Last year's Beaters had graduated, but the two new guys didn't look much different than the old gorillas, named Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wow, wondering if Malfoy got them the latest Nimbus models again to let his friends on the team," Sirius scoffed.

Harry said he knew them well enough, and they were of the same mold as the old dunces.

Angelina nodded, and then called them all to line up to head outside, wishing them all one last good luck.

"It sounds like they're going to need it," Remus couldn't help mutter.

A roar of noise greeted them from the cheering and booing of both sides, also what sounded oddly like singing.

James was starting to get a nervous feeling about that song the more it was mentioned, if it had anything to do with the Slytherin's he just couldn't hold out hope it would be a good thing.

The Slytherin's were lined up and waiting, Malfoy at once catching sight of Ron and tapping his badge while smirking.

Lily sighed deeply, any hope for her idea gone already if Malfoy was wearing one. Now she read on grimly, somehow looking forward to getting through this less every line.

Hooch instructed both captains to shake hands, and if Montague's tense frame was any indication, he was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, who never winced.

"Tough girl, it's not hard to see why Fred likes her," Sirius grinned. "Hey Harry, did her and Fred keep together after the Yule Ball?"

"I never asked them," Harry shrugged, "but I had seen George hanging around with Lee once or twice without Fred around, so maybe."

The fourteen players mounted their brooms, and the game began. Harry and Malfoy at once streaking to opposite ends of the field to find the lone gold snitch.

"Is he not going to try following you around with lame insults anymore?" James chuckled.

Commentation at once began with Johnson with the Quaffle,

"Honestly Lily, how can you read that sounding so bored," Sirius groaned as she read out for the commentator as if reading the morning paper.

Lily simply shrugged, but Remus suddenly wished Sirius hadn't said anything, as Lily continued if possible in an even more flat voice, much to both his friends annoyance.

he'd been saying for years how good she was and she should go out with him-

"Maybe I was wrong about Angelina and Fred though," Harry said good naturedly.

"Or the friends messing with one of the twins," Sirius brushed off, still glaring at Lily more every second as she tried to make her voice as monotone as possible.

but McGonagall finally cut in on Jordan and told him to focus. Lee agreed at once and went back to more details on the game, the Quaffle passing between Montague, then hit with a Bludger by a Weasley twin, then to Katie, Alicia and she was off for the Slytherin post-

"Alright, that's it," James made a lunge for the book, which Lily neatly dodged and kept the book close to her chest, now full blown grinning at her husband.

"What, I'm not allowed to have a bit of fun?"

"This is the opposite of fun woman!" Sirius groaned. "I've never heard someone be so dull about a sport in my life."

Lily's giggling increased while James kept muttering at her side and eyeing the book with longing, he'd clearly been out of practice to long, but when she kept going it was clearly getting harder by the moment to hold a blank face as her own amusement kept rising.

Harry was listening intently to Lee's commentary as he continued his own search, only hearing about Alicia avoiding a Bludger and Warrington, but pausing in confusion when he heard singing.

While Harry had been enjoying the show, both his mum messing with the two and his old Quidditch memories, he could already feel a stirring of unease for whatever was fixing to come. Lily clearly felt it as well as she couldn't quite keep up a bored tone anymore, wondering at who could be singing during the game.

Lee paused so that the lyrics could ring out, insert Slytherin version of Weasley is our King.

Lily had blanched in shock upon the first line, but she'd managed to stutter the whole thing out in the thick, heavy silence before coming to a screeching halt when she'd finally run out of insults.

"I-that is the lowest-" Remus looked too disgusted for words at what they were doing to Ron.

"Wow, I have seen a lot of backhanded things to mess with a player, but never a song dedicated to them," James's face was scrunched up with derision even as a very tiny part of him vaguely admired the dedication that went into something so elaborate.

"Really makes you wonder what Malfoy does with the rest of his free time, sings ballads to Hermione's parents, or poems to Harry's fame." Sirius snapped, his face twisted with dislike as he knew he'd have cursed Malfoy out of the air if he'd been there.

There was no longer any fun in Lily continuing with much less enthusiasm than anyone else, they all would have felt the same forcing themselves to read this bit no matter their love of the sport.

The moment Lee had realized what was being sung he'd tried to launch back into even louder and more detailed comments, but Alicia had passed to Angelina, who'd missed, making the ball Slytherin's as the song erupted again louder than ever.

James was practically vibrating in place, wanting to snap on a burst of speed and deck Malfoy where he flew, wanting to say something that would make Ron put that stupid song out of his head, but both were lost to him.

Warrington was heading back up the pitch with the Quaffle, finally putting a test to the new Keeper blood Ron Weasley, brother to Beaters Fred and George.

"The twins friend is doing a terrible job of helping them deny relation," Remus randomly muttered as anything else to think about, fighting back the impulse to press his hands to his ears in worry for this to come.

Even as Lee cheered on Ron, his wild dive saved nothing, it was ten zero to Slytherin.

All five of them cursed in sync for this misfortune, Lily denying doing any such thing by reading on loudly so as not to let the boys miserate for too long.

The singing burst through even louder, more people seeming to join in with every rendition.

"That can not be allowed!" Harry finally burst with frustration. "Can you put a whole house in detention! McGonagall, or someone shouldn't be letting them say that about him!"

The others remained completely silent with frustration, no one wanted to be the one to tell Harry what he already knew, there was nothing that could be done, it would be impossible to halt the whole game and kick those singing out of the stands.

Gryffindor continued the game with the ball in hand, as Harry continued more desperately now for the search of the Snitch, the chorus still thundering through the stadium.

Lily was forcing herself to keep reading this in a flat rage now, what she wouldn't give to put silencing charms on the lot of them for ever turning someone's life into such a cruel joke of a song.

The pattern continued as the ball continued passing hands, even out of the immediate action the song still being belted in the background.

Remus was twitching with unease in the tense room, wishing he could go back to laughing along with his friends about something as fun as a Quidditch game, why couldn't they ever go one of these without something terrible happening every time.

Harry refused to watch the actual action as he passed by the Slytherin Keeper, who was singing along with the lyrics.

"I'm going to imagine for a moment they skipped on some practices to all memorize this rubbish," James hissed under his breath.

Soon enough though, Ron was once again at bat, and the groan from his side of the crowd below was all Harry needed as answer. Still, twenty-nil was nothing, a few goals and they'd be back on even.

Sirius gave Harry an absent pat on the shoulder, absolutely agreeing with him this could all turn around any moment. The score wouldn't even feel as bad as it did if that wretched song would quit being passed around, but though Lily looked like she was considering skipping any more lines of it, that wasn't making it vanish.

After two more goals got through though, Harry really felt the beginnings of panic. He needed to finish the game quickly, and then no one would remember the rest of this mess. Angelina gave the Gryffindor's below something to cheer on soon, making the score forty-ten to Slytherin. Harry was ducking a Bludger sent his way

"Hooch didn't call that?" James snapped. "Could have used that penalty, Harry wasn't showing any signs of having seen the Snitch!"

"That's such an arguable call hardly anyone goes for it," Remus disagreed, James opening his mouth to argue the point but Lily ignored them both.

and keeping an eye on Malfoy as the game continued around them with those lines still being shouted.

Finally Harry saw the Snitch at the bottom of the Slytherin's goal posts, he dived, and in seconds Malfoy was on his tail, the two neck in neck,

Had Lily's joke at the start of this game not been interrupted she still wouldn't have had it in her to mime carelessness now, even with that horrid song echoing in the back of her mind she was edging in her seat with excitement.

It was over in one breathless swipe, Harry's fingers encasing the struggling, minute ball as Malfoy's fingers scrabbled at the back of his hand, and Harry stopped short to wave to the roaring approval of the Gryffindor crowd.

"YES!"

The echoing cheer of excitement could have woken neighbors. This was exactly what they needed to shove in those stupid Slytherin faces just how useless they were, how some hateful song wouldn't be enough to stop such a magnificent team!

Harry glowed for a moment in their praise, but the smile never quite reached his eyes as he watched them bounce with excitement for him. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand this feeling of dread, of something heavy just waiting to pounce on him for this win. Was it to do with Ron? Surely no one was really going to hold that against him, it was his first game after all...

WHAM.

Harry felt a Bludger punch the small of his back, flinging him off his broom.

Lily jerked in surprise as she read that, whatever victory she'd been holding before in that small moment blown away as effectively as a cannonball. The game was over, and Lily was hoping Ron got his revenge by clocking whichever Beater that was for pulling that stunt.

Harry was still only five feet off the ground, so the tumble forward merely winded him. Hooch at once flew up to begin shouting at the Slytherin Beater while Angelina landed near him, asking if he was alright.

Harry said of course he was while getting to his feet.**

"Oh yes, just a solid metal ball slamming into your spine, walk it off," Lily grumbled under her breath as she eyed her child, then turned sharp eyes on her husband who looked no more pleased but certainly not worried about injury.

Angelina explained it was Crabbe who'd done it. Then she began cheering they'd won!

A derisive snort from behind showed that Malfoy had not landed far away, now furiously telling Harry it was a miracle he'd saved Weasley's neck, but of course he'd be rubbish, he was born in a bin, then asked Harry if he liked the lyrics, he'd done them himself.

"He's wasting his talents as a slimeball," Sirius snarled, "he needs to pass on already and become a poltergeist."

"So long as he doesn't haunt Hogwarts," James agreed.

Harry refused to answer, turning away as the rest of the team landed around him except Ron, who landed over by his goals and was walking towards the changing room alone.

"I hope you go after him Harry," Lily couldn't help but urge, "you're only giving Malfoy what he wants by hanging back and listening to him."

Harry didn't answer, his face growing tighter by the minute as that feeling of anger continued to pound through him.

Malfoy kept going, pretending he had an audience as he explained he'd wanted to add some more in about being fat and ugly, for the Weasley's mother of course,

Harry's eyes flashed, he tensed and would have shot a curse at nothing if Sirius hadn't laid a restraining hand on his shoulder and whispered a calm reminder there was nothing for it now. It didn't make anyone feel any better, even though some of them held a dislike for Molly now they could never condone saying such a thing about her.

as well as loser for his father.

Lily was trying to read this quickly, so as to get the feel of sandpaper off her tongue from pure frustration. It never angered her any less when Malfoy continued using the same insults.

Fred and George tensed as they watched Malfoy with disgust, but even as Malfoy began backing away he was still talking about why this wouldn't bother Potter of course, the stank of the blood-traitors house must be similar to the Muggles who'd dragged him up.

No one ever appreciated any reminder of the Dursley's, but putting them in any kind of comparison which was the safe house of the Burrow like that truly was the most insulting thing they'd yet heard.

Harry grabbed hold of George to stop him doing anything, while the three Chasers were doing the same to Fred.

"I don't know why they're bothering," Sirius articulated through gritted teeth, "Malfoy's gone past where a detention would be worth it."

Malfoy clearly didn't care as he kept going, saying Potter must remember the stench from his own mother's house, she'd been even worse off being a-

James moved so fast Lily didn't realize the book had been wrenched away until she was staring at her empty hands, a slight burn in her palms from how tight she'd been holding the cover the only imprint of it. Maybe he'd just been going easy on her before then.

She turned to snap at him, but he was too busy jabbing his wand at the offending page. "James!" She protested, trying to push her hand in the way to stop him before he did permanent damage.

"I am sick of that little scumbag insulting everyone, especially you," he said in a scary calm voice.

"Well doing whatever you're trying to do to that won't fix anything," she snapped as she pulled it back to her.

He gave in with a hateful scowl still in place, and Lily turned back to see the spell he'd managed to put in place, where Malfoy's name had been replaced with, well a colorful swear word Lily wasn't going to be saying. She fixed it and then kept going while James grumbled that hadn't been nearly enough payback.

Harry had no memory of releasing George, the two running side by side on their path to Malfoy, nor the shouts from his fellow teammates telling them to stop. All he knew was the fist drawn back, punching at Malfoy as hard as he could.

Lily stopped for a moment to look at her son, nibbling softly on her lip, but not a word could she find to speak against this. She couldn't claim to be much better if someone had been speaking of her mother.

The two only stopped when they fall off after the shout of the Impedimenta curse.

"I don't see why that was a reason to stop," Remus said quietly, "now's the time to go for the wand when the Muggle way stops working."

Sirius nodded in absolute agreement, his hand had long since been on his wand, just aching for something to curse.

Madam Hooch was in a towering temper above them, her wand out meaning she'd performed the jinx. Malfoy was still curled up in the grass, whimpering and nose bleeding.

"Clearly you didn't bash it into his skull, so I don't know what he's crying about," James snarled.

Hooch demanded the two go to McGonagall's office at once. They stormed off, Fred still being pinned beneath the Chasers and immune to anything else around them. It was only when they got to the office door did Harry start to feel something, and he glanced at his hand in surprise to see the one he'd been punching Malfoy with had still been holding the Snitch.

James struggled for a moment, but the compulsion to share his life with his son won out after his anger as he burst into speech, "I convinced our Seeker, Shilling, to keep the Snitch after every match and she passed it along to me. One of my favorite past times when I was bored was to pull it out and keep my reflexes up. Even I never thought of that though!"

"One of your very many annoying habits," Lily sniffed, her old angry bleeding tone giving James even more flashbacks. "You looked like such a show off."

"I was showing off," James agreed without remorse.

Harry couldn't marshal up much of a smile for the two, there was something about this day that promised to get even worse for him, and he had a feeling it wasn't about detention. There was also something else, a smaller memory that didn't align with this day, but promised he somehow had a first hand account of knowing those things his parents had just said, but that was ridiculous of course, how could he have known that?

They only stood there for a second when McGonagall came marching into view wearing a red and gold scarf, which she at once tore off as she pointed into the room looking livid.

"Damn, and I always loved it when she showed our house colors," Sirius winced.

"We're past flattery to make this better Padfoot," Remus rolled his eyes.

"Never stopped me from trying," Sirius shrugged.

She threw the scarf to the ground as she rounded the desk and on them.

"Now that was just uncalled for violence," James grumbled.

She demanded an explanation, and Harry quickly said they'd been provoked, which McGonagall did not find excusable as she pounded her fist on the desk, knocking over her tray of Ginger Newts.

"I think she needs to have one of her own biscuits and breathe for a moment," Lily said grimly, knowing Harry would get a chance to explain, but also knowing as well as anyone it wouldn't get him out of trouble no matter how much Malfoy had deserved it.

She snapped of course he had, he'd just lost, but nothing he could have said should have justified the two-

George cut in to say the insults, but McGonagall still said they should have gone to Hooch instead of displaying Muggle dueling.

"A very educational performance with splendid end results, really they should be getting thanks at least from Burbag," Sirius said flatly.

"There's that extra week we always got," Remus muttered.

Nothing further could be said before a hem, hem, entered the room.

"No!" Lily groaned as she gazed at that stupid little noise. "No, no, no-"

"Oh Lily, please tell me you're doing a terrible impression of a joke," James groaned into his fingers, he couldn't even look to her face for confirmation.

"What on earth is that roadkill doing there!" Sirius all but exploded. "She's nothing to do with any of this!"

Harry's horrible impression was growing more sickly by the moment. Somehow, this was all about to get terribly worse.

Harry and George turned in surprise to see Umbridge in the doorway wearing a green cloak, only further enhancing her resemblance to a toad as her pudgy eyes gleamed with a sickly ominous way Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.

"A face only my mother would love," Sirius groaned, digging his heels into his eyes so that he wouldn't have to keep watching Lily's face turn red from frustration of having to read about this woman in the same vicinity as her son again.

Umbridge offered McGonagall help in a poisonously sweet voice.

"You can help yourself off the astronomy tower," Remus snapped.

McGonagall actually grew more furious in the face of this, asking what help.

Umbridge insisted she'd thought McGonagall would be grateful for a little extra authority.

"I'd be more grateful if you dove headfirst into the black lake, meet the local population," Sirius promised.

Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils.

"Ah the twisted irony, Umbridge is actually doing more good than harm arriving then, because now McGonagall might go slightly easier on you in front of her," Lily sighed.

McGonagall snapped she'd thought wrong, trying to turn back to the two boys and giving them a week of detentions, but Umbridge would not be so easily deterred as she again made the hem, hem noise.

McGonagall closed her eyes as if praying for patience before slowly looking back to Umbridge.

"Merlin himself couldn't have offered any support for this except some toad-be-gone," James snipped.

Umbridge insisted she thought they deserved more than a detention for this display.

Harry was starting to twitch uncontrollably in his seat with unease, fighting the urge to either bury himself under the couch from a reaction he could sense coming, or tear the cushions in half from his own mounting anger. It helped nothing his family might just join in with McGonagall breathing fire soon, they all knew what Umbridge meant about her 'detentions.'

McGonagall's eyes flashed with outrage as she snapped that as these two were in her house, it was only her decision that mattered.

Umbridge oh so politely corrected that her decision did matter more while reaching for something.

"No..." Remus trailed off, too appalled to manage anything else in fear of where this was headed.

She pulled out something Cornelius had sent her, before correcting herself the Minister of course,

Lily only absently noted the lack and then use of the title as Umbridge's own self-importance in thinking she could be so informal, she was far more keyed into the new level of horror of where this could be going.

and unfurled a paper declaring it as Educational Decree Number Twenty-five-

though McGonagall interrupted in exasperation not another one!

"My sentiments exactly," James snarled.

Umbridge looked to her in surprise, saying McGonagall had given her the inspiration for this one as she'd overstepped and had Dumbledore intervene about putting the Gryffindor team back in play. Umbridge couldn't have that.

"No good deed goes unpunished," Remus said faintly, his two friends going bone white as they suddenly feared why this was being brought up again. Surely, no it wasn't possible, Umbridge couldn't have found a way to force the team to disband again, could she?!

Umbridge had contacted the Minister after this of course, the High Inquisitor couldn't be superseded like that or she'd have no more power than a common teacher.

"You shouldn't have any more authority than a sack of dung!" Lily screeched. She didn't want to keep going, was almost tempted to hand the book back over to James just so she wouldn't have to be the one to find out what this monster was going to do to her son next.

Then she went back to reading the amendment, that the High Inquisitor would henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments in school.

Lily had found it hard to believe the audacity of those first few amendments, and they somehow got worse every single time. This woman was creating these as she went along, and no one was stopping her!

She folded it back and put it away, before turning to the two boys and decided a life long ban on Quidditch for these two seemed sufficient enough punishment.

Harry's mind went blank. He heard shouting, he saw something get tossed across the room, but it was impossible to understand details as he struggled to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.

Lily watched as the book thunked onto the mantel above the fireplace without regret, her fingers still twitching to throw something much bigger. She wasn't even a fan of her son being on the team and that was too far! She only held herself back from saying this by watching her husband work himself into a rampage with the only background thought being she should find a way to record this moment, otherwise there would be no record of Umbridge left when James was threw with her.

"-youngest Seeker in a century, she can't do that to him!"

Then again, what did they need a record of her for except an example of a transfiguration spell gone terribly wrong.

Sirius was too busy running scenarios in his head about something far too violent to be put into words, he needed action to get this one out of his system. Remus couldn't get his mind to act much better, as affronted as his friends and more than willing to enact whatever revenge they came up with.

Lily watched the lot of them try to find some way to work off their temper without destroying the house in vain, she really couldn't see a way to call their attention back even if she'd wanted to. So it was to her surprise when James finally found something resembling his normal voice and forced himself not to shout at his wife, "Lily would you keep going please. I'd like to get to the end of this book and find out how she's leaving this school." Then he trailed off into more hateful mutters about how that wasn't going to happen fast enough, and he couldn't believe his son was missing this sport for a whole year until that walking wart left.

"If it isn't Remus tearing her head off to replace her than it's not going to be as satisfactory," Sirius said grimly.

Lily silently agreed as she summoned the book back and pressed on for more horror.

Harry went numb in shock as he gazed at Umbridge telling herself this was for the best, terrible tempers the both of them, and for good measure Fred Weasley should be taken off as well as surely he'd have joined in the malay if he hadn't been restrained. She also wanted their brooms in her office, to make sure her ban was being enforced.

"She's gone from crossing the line into a whole new abyss!" Sirius howled in frustration. "She's, that's not, there's no-"

"She can't do that," Lily said in opposition. Quietly, a dangerous predator about to strike. "That's his private property, it's not against school rules to have."

"Well don't tell her that, or she'll ban brooms from the school next," Remus threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

Then she addressed McGonagall that she was not being unreasonable,

"You are something that I have only called one person, and you deserve the term far more than them," Remus growled.

she would allow the other members to continue playing, while McGonagall gazed at her as if carved from ice.

"I need McGonagall to understand that her life purpose now needs to be revenge for this," James pleaded with the universe. "Someone in that castle must understand this!"

"I'm worried there will be someone who does," Remus suddenly said with a touch of worry, looking to a still fuming Sirius. If he heard about Umbridge doing this, he may come up to the school and give her what he'd promised Harry Prongs and Padfoot would do in their own time.

With a look of satisfaction, Umbridge left the horrified room with silence in her wake.

Angelina was beside herself with anger when she heard there were no more Beaters or a Seeker on her team. Harry looked around the rest of the morose common room, it was as if they hadn't won at all.

"This woman is the physical embodiment of a mood killer," Lily groaned.

"I honestly believe she's a demon sent from hell at this point," Remus agreed.

Angelina was the only one with energy, shouting about the injustice of this. Fred didn't even deserve it, he hadn't done anything!

Fred snapped back in anger that was only because he was being held back from punching that scumbag to a pulp.

"Hey, the twins," Sirius suddenly snapped his fingers, giving Remus a pleased enough smirk. "Stop your worrying about me Moony, I can guarantee the twins won't be taking this one lying down."

Remus nodded grudgingly. It didn't make anyone's anger disappear by one level, but it did ease the misery of watching Harry's face as he relieved this moment.

Harry could only gaze out the dark window where snow was falling again. The Snitch had made its way back to the common room with him and was now flitting about chairs with Crookshanks chasing it.

James sighed as he imagined the old grin he could put on people's faces as he did this same thing nights in a row, of the party that should be going on, of simpler and fun times in his school, was it truly impossible for his son to enjoy that?

Angelina finally slumped off to bed, wishing this was all a bad dream and they hadn't even played yet.

"I don't ever want to relive this day, considering I'm struggling to come up with a worse outcome than this," Sirius huffed.

Remus gave a commiserating nod of agreement, Lily frowning pityingly at all of the boys in the room, but even she couldn't imagine how this could have gone a better way, the end results seemed inevitable by this point.

The common room slowly dispersed as well, only Harry and Hermione lingering because Ron had yet to make an appearance. When he finally did come edging in, he was covered in snow and just as pale as it.

Hermione quickly ushered him to the fireplace, asking where he'd been.

Ron just said on a walk, then told Harry he was going to resign first thing in the morning.

Lily truly pitied him, but couldn't help wondering if that wasn't for the best. Just because you were good at something didn't mean you could do it in front of a crowd, and that's clearly where Ron was sitting. She'd hate to see him ever feel so low again.

James absolutely disagreed, setting his shoulders and wishing he could drag Ron onto the pitch right now, already an idea forming in his head of how he'd help him to work through this. First he'd put one person in the stands until Ron could easily ignore that no matter what was said, and then keep adding people until Ron could block them all out. He didn't care how long it took, he'd find a way so that Ron would never let someone get the better of him like this. There was no such thing as quitting with dignity as far as he was concerned.

Harry snapped at him if he did that then there'd only be three players left. Ron looked at him in confusion,

"He hadn't heard of this!?" Remus said in surprise.

"I was wondering why he didn't question why the common room wasn't in party mode," Sirius grumbled, "clearly he hasn't heard much of anything."

before Hermione explained what had happened.

Ron looked even more anguished as he said this was all his fault.

"Oh it's nothing of the sort," Lily snapped, wondering if Hermione would whack Ron upside the head for his thinking something so stupid.

Harry said it was nothing of the sort, while Ron returned if he hadn't been so bad at Quidditch,

"Malfoy would have caused all this no matter how Ron played," Sirius snapped.

the two going back and forth like this until Harry burst loudest of all for Ron to stop blaming himself for everything.

Remus winced for Ron, sympathizing with him more than anyone else as he could really see why Ron did. People telling you you were something long enough tended to leave a mark.

Ron remained in a silent misery for a moment longer before saying this was the worst he'd ever felt in his life.

Remus had watched the exaggerations of his friends all his life long enough to know better than to pick on Ron for that statement. Though he was hard pressed to really not ask if this was worse than thinking his sister was dead.

Harry snapped he could join the club.

Hermione had gotten to her feet to stare at something out the window before telling them she'd found something to cheer them both up.

"Umbridge's tombstone," James snapped.

"His Firebolt back," Sirius sighed.

Harry asked what that could be skeptically, and Hermione said with a brilliant smile that Hagrid was back.

"He what?" Harry demanded, jumping to his feet in joy as Lily eagerly pressed the book into James' hands now so he could read more about that!

HPHPHPHPHP

The Lily reads a Quidditch game in a monotone voice idea was offered by, DjuulLOVEhp!

*Fun fact, most lion roars in movies are actually done by tigers. Ever heard a lion roar? You should, it sounds like their hacking up a hairball, not exactly intimidating to watch on a computer screen, more funny than anything, but I'm sure it's plenty scary in the wild. Now tigers, those guys will make you piss yourself through an enclosure.

** Reports say a Bludger weighs 149 pounds! I don't need to be a scientist to know that is more than enough to not only break a spine but go right through the human body if dropped on someone, let alone hit with force from a distance. In second year one of these was enough to break his elbow at a glancing blow! I'm not sure whether to call bull on inconsistency, or wonder if Harry died in this moment and the rest is all some twisted version of hell.

#The Life that Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #OotP #hp #The Marauders #James Potter #Lily Potter #Jilly #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

Kira Vol 2 (2)

The Mistress

CHAPTER 2: You Were Found

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: A new chapter begins in Kira’s life. Old secrets, new confessions, surprising allies and unexpected meetings. All of them have one name in common. Loki.

Chapter content: soft feels

Warnings: none

Word count: I’m feeling better today, enjoying the weather, shit scared of thunder and wanting sleep to come early so I don’t wake up in the noon like I did today

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

If the air could spell out the emotions floating in this space, it would paint the molecules 'awkward'. But what is more fascinating to witness by anyone who would walk in on the scene is to point out to who is more uncomfortable than the others. You sit across your parents, busy helping serve breakfast around the table, your attention is mostly taken by your grandmother- who is more than delighted to be served fried bread, these little pieces of her favourite edible treasures of fried dough and a hot cup of tea to go with it all. Shireen and Ritviz, your younger sister and brother sit on the other end of the table together, watching you with their piercing gaze as you try to- almost- completely ignore this extraordinarily handsome man sitting right next to you. They dare not blink as this pale sculpted dude looks at the movements of your hands busy at work before landing his haze upon your face. "So-" Ritviz leans in towards Shireen, his eyes still not letting go of this guy who is stuck on his sister for some reason- "this is her boss?"

Shireen hums, narrowing her eyes towards the duo. Taking a cardamom stick from the table basket, she snaps it in half. "Ay, Kira. Give your boss some of that mint sauce you prepared last night." You turn to watch your sister nibble at the cardamom, trying your best to ignore the palpitations and nod with a smile. How does she always know? It is hard to know if the heat your feel at the nape of your neck and cheeks is visible to everyone sitting around you and even harder to let your excited brain find a switch to shut down the anxiety that your body feels on having all the people you love in one room. On the same table. "Have some of this," your mother brings forward an entire serving of her signature chillis fried and spiced in her signature chickpea dough recipe and asks Loki to help himself. "No!" You blurt out when Loki tries to go for them, moving them away to take charge of filling his plate up. "He can't eat chilli," you explain, gathering more judgment from your siblings, "it doesn't suit him." "Tsk. How have you been living with him till now?! You can barely survive without spicy food!" You and Loki turn your heads- quite in sync- to look at Shireen. "Shireen," mother uses her tone to make it known she is crossing some line. But she also makes sure to smile at her daughter's guest and serve him some piping hot tea. "Don't mind her. I dropped her on the floor when she was a baby," you whisper to Loki. Loki blinks and quietly chuckles before turning back to look at Shireen. "We have a cook back home. She makes sure Kira gets everything she wants and needs." There is a gasp forming in Ritviz's lungs right now as he bites into the fried cheese. 'We'? 'Back home'? This dude already planned their retirement?? "So, Loki..." Now all three children turn to look at their mother, knowing full well where this is going the moment she addresses your boss so casually. "Do you have any siblings?" Ritviz facepalms himself harder than anticipated. Shireen grabs a chilli and stuffs it in her mother's mouth while you try to keep a straight face through the embarrassment your family is making you feel. Well, your dad and grandma are an exception because they are more interested in the food. "She doesn't have any idea about what's going on around the world. So..." You trial off with apology bursting through your y/e/c eyes. Your siblings look at your mother with daggers in their eyes, knowing full well she has consumed the Odin family history through the news like an addict ever since you got the job at Sun Corp. More so when you came back home. Your mom can feel their stares. But she too takes her time to look at them and go 'what' like it's a big deal. "Meet me outside after breakfast and I'll tell you 'what'," Shireen threatens her. Loki simply shrugs. "It's fine. I have a brother. He is back in Asgard looking after his father's empire. We don't meet each other much. Mostly because of our work." It is both relieving and painful to watch Loki sail on those words so smoothly and end them with a genuine smile. "These are delicious, by the way," he adds and you have to wonder about a thousand things about your boss in one go. Your mother is won over by that compliment but that does not stop her from prying more into your boss' life. "The business must be going well then?" Loki nods in respect. "We have been going stable. So, that is a plus after the slump the market was facing." "Okay, no business talk on the table," you remind everyone before pouring some soda for you, your grandma and Loki. "The food still might feel spicy. Have the soda first and tea later." Loki pauses between bites and lets that sweet command swirl inside him, his bones feeling alive after so long on hearing that voice talk to him this way. "Yes, ma'am," he replies softly, and you have to hide the flush on your face and the smile on your lips behind your hands. "What happened?" your grandma asks you out of the blue, her strong sixth sense already catching the flutter in your gut. You shake your head and bribe her with the soda. Her focus is redirected instantly, but that does not mean she stops observing you through this heavenly meal. "Why didn't you get married yet?" your mother throws the question out of nowhere, making some people choke on their drink, others groan, and one snicker. "Okay, that's it," you announce, "he's staying at the hotel. Loki, you're staying at the hotel." Your mother's wide eyes look at the usual judgment of the siblings falling upon her. "What? I'm just asking this handsome man about-" "You cannot ask him that, ma," you and Ritvik groan, Shireen tsks and rolls her eyes. Loki, watching this unfold simply smirks at this pure delight he feels sitting in the midst of this family. You get up and go to the kitchen to get some more sauces for the table, all the while glaring at your mother- who chooses to not notice. The fried dough smells and tastes heavenly even though it is one heavy portion for him. Worth it, he shrugs internally and goes for another bite. His right wrist feels a tug and he witnesses the frail wrinkled hand shaking a little before pointing him to the soda bottle in front of him. "Have some sprite," your grandmother urges Loki with a smile in her eyes. Loki feels a tug on the string of his hearts. Those eyes are a mix of green, brown, grey and every mystic power of nature that can be held in the iris of a wise person. That withered face shines bright with plump cheeks and transparent emotions. "I'm...uh...I'm good, Mrs Kane, thank you," Loki reciprocates the smile, "I still have some left in my glass." Grandma nods and pushes her own glass forward. "Then pour me some, will you?" Loki cannot help but chuckle, complying with the orders straight away. "So-" your mother's voice breaks through the soothing air over the table just as you come out of the kitchen- "how much do you earn?" And you walk right back into it.

"Pretty cringy breakfast downstairs." Moving away from the view of the mountains in the near distance, Loki sees Ritvik stand by the rooftop door with a box in his hand. He can see Shireen stand behind him, bluffing disinterest as she pushes his brother away to walk towards the wires and hang the washed laundry to dry under the oddly hot December sun. "Isn't that how families usually are?" Loki smiles in his direction. Ritviz joins the man by the railings, looking at the mountains covered in thick clouds before paying attention to the maroon sweater Loki wears with his midnight blue jeans. The boy cannot help but appreciate the wide knit patterns adorn that white skin with apt beauty. "Nice sweater," he points before turning around to sit down on the platform. "Thanks, it w-" something stops Loki mid-sentence when he remembers the day he found it waiting in his bedroom- "it was a gift." Ritviz hums and smirks. "Good taste," he mutters. Shireen's eyes have been stuck on these two, reading their every word as every fabric getting in her hands is tortured with a sudden flick. "Is she a good assistant? My sister?" the brother asks. Is...that a trick question? Loki blinks at the mountains before smiling at the boy. "The best one I could ask for." A nod of agreement comes from the brother while the sister stands there giving more frustrated flicks to the sweaters. "Cool. Cool cool cool cool. So...she must keep up with whatever it is she's supposed to do." Oh for fucks sake. Shireen groans out loud. "Just ask him already dammit!" Both men turn towards Shireen. One looks at her in confusion while the other widens his eyes in caution at her, shaking his head as discreetly as possible. "Ask...ask me what?" "Nothin-" "How did Kira get hurt?" A crow yells whilst sitting on the top of the malacca as if laughing at the entire situation. Ritviz scratches some itch at the back of his neck while sighing in defeat. "You are supposed to go easy with the questions, Rin. This guy is the reason Kira has a job." "Oh, shut it, Ritz," she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "it's not like he's doing her a favour. She has earned her place, okay? And she got wounded under his care!" Loki can see the scrunched up nose and brows carry on them a rage held in for far too long. Even though those grey eyes have nothing but animosity in them for him, he feels a certain elation on seeing them stand in defence for her sister. "Oi!" RItz is about to yell at Rin but Loki cuts him on the way. "She was in an accident." The chilly breeze takes the words and swirls them around the audience. "The car she was travelling in met with a serious accident. Three of my men died that night. One survived long enough to make sure Kira was all right." The crisp heat of the sun feels warm instead of scorching. Those fine lines on Rin's forehead fade just a little; partially because of hearing those words straight from the lion's mouth, partially because the guilt is transparent to a fault in those smaragdines that shimmer more than they normally should. "I was supposed to be with her that night. I promised to take her home, safe and sound. And I regret every second of not keeping my promise, I assure you that. If there was a way to repent for being careless with Kira's life, I would gladly give myself up for it." The silence that erodes the rooftop brings a lightness to it. Rin sighs and crosses her arms while Ritz cannot bring himself to look at Loki- who is patiently waiting for a word. "Kira told us there were bad guys involved," Rin mutters while letting her fingers play with the wool of her white sweater, "and by us, I mean me and Ritz. Mom and dad have no idea about this. They still think she fell from the stairs." Loki nods. "Did they try to hurt her because of...you?" Ritz cannot help but ask. The weight that has begun to make home over his chest returns after what seems like a while. That uneasy feeling of something scratching over his heart makes him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, that is not what I meant," Ritz scrunches his face in an apology, "not that she was hurt because of you. What I meant was-" "Yes. I was the reason." "Bullshit!" Rin scoffs and laughs. That...was unexpected. "I'm pretty sure she did something to piss them off. She's done it before and she will def-fucking-nately do it again." Rin is not wrong. And the strong edge in her voice tells him she knows her sister well enough. "What I care about is that now that she works for you, she will be fighting a fight that isn't hers. And, God forbid, if something happens to-" "I won't let it," Loki is already marking down a vow, "I have witnessed it once and I am not going to let anything or anyone make her go through it again." "But you cannot promise me that she won't go looking for danger, can you?" The lift of her brow makes Loki recall why he fell for Kira. "Agreed. I cannot do that. But whatever she brings home with her, I am willing to clean the mess." "You-" Rin has to literally grit her teeth before she can find herself pouring down fire over the man who talks about her sister like... The embers burning inside her bring blood to the surface under her teeth. Of all the goddamn people in this world. She looks at those green eyes shining under the soothing rays; translucent to a fault, standing bare. "Rin," Ritz quietly urges, trying to take her by the arm. "She will get hurt again, won't she?" Ritz stands there, feeling as significant as the wind meddling with the two people standing opposite each other defending their love for the same person again and again. And if they could, they would do it endlessly. "She does not back down from a fair fight," Loki addresses something all three of them already know. "That fight is always to save someone else," Rin adds, never blinking. "One more reason for me to carefully choose my enemies," Loki concludes, never wavering his gaze. A sigh leaves Rin's lungs and she feels her watery eyes closing with a pinch of pain in the eyelids. "The audacity of this bitch," she mutters and walks away, kicking the lone brick in her path that was used to keep the blankets holding drying chilli in place. "Please don't hate her," Ritz presses, sighing at the sight of his sister stomping down the stairs, "she is mad because she does not yet know how to process the emotion of envying you." Loki's brows furrow. And Ritviz can see the question incepting from miles away, making him chuckle and scratch an itch at the back of his head. "Kira stopped singing two years ago," he began, having Loki's full attention at the mention of the name, "all the weird songs and lyrics, all the wacky sound effects and humming disappeared when she fell ill. Of course, to the world, she was suffering from insomnia. But there was so much more. We were worried it would get worse when she left for the cyber city. So easy to get lost there, you know. I knew she cried every night even though she did not say. She always called mom in the morning when she had the energy for another day. I even thought of bringing her back home one day and right that morning she called us to tell us she had landed a job in your company. And her call times got more erratic. But her voice grew stronger. I don't know if it was because of the work or people around her, but she seemed to be better. That was one hope for us till we heard about the accident from you. That must have been hard for you, man. Telling us about her? And at the same time having to tell us to not meet her because of security reasons or whatever was going on? The day she told us she was coming back we thought that was it. That she was done. That she was coming home, done with the world and stuff. The first day she came back home, she was humming." Loki blinks, feeling an old string strike. "She-" Ritz chuckles at his own disbelief- "was covered in bruises and bandages and she was humming. She narrated incidents like she had come back from some great adventure and she talked like could not wait to go back. And the last time I saw her eyes sparkle like that, Loki, was when she had created art. And that was ages ago." Words do not even dare to come up from that lumpy throat. And even though he has no idea, Ritz can only imagine what Loki must be feeling right now. "So, please don't mind if my sister envies the fact that you were able to do something she could not figure out for Kira before. She fears Kira might have experienced a high that might be too dangerous for her. I'm not saying that I completely agree with her, but she might not be completely wrong." Loki exhales, feeling a load leave him as he moves his hand through his hair. "And I'm sure you'll do what's best," Ritz shrugs and smirks, casually pointing at Loki's sweater, "I mean, she doesn't give the best gifts to just anyone." Loki looks down at his sweater and has to take some time to find in himself to chuckle through the smooth roller coaster he was sent on. "Here." He watches Ritz bring forward the box he has been carrying for a while now. "Happy birthday. From me and Rin." There is a pause in every moment in his body. Even on an extraordinary day, it would be unexpected, but this man had stopped keeping expectations from the world a long time ago. No wonder then, that this gesture hits hard right in the chest, squeezing that heart to bring up some buried or burned scripts of having the chance of making new friends and family. It is a melody- on a piano sitting at the edge of a hill, a harp standing by the edge of the sea or a cello right in the middle of a wheat field- slowly but surely engulfing him with a different warmth that he is currently too slow to figure out. The undone ribbon lies on the cemented floor underneath him. The lid hangs in his hand as the ceramic reflects the light in his eyes while he looks with a mixture of confusion and surprise. The polished piece of mug is picked up to watch the animated caricature of two really proud beings leaning next to the words in the middle. One he recognises immediately. He can never miss those golden eyes and that lited brow with a knowing smile. The other? He has a hard time breathing it in because it only ends up making him laugh. The green eyes with the smug look and red sweater with black pants against the pale skin are giving him goosebumps. 'Father of a Big, Bad Wolf' it says.

For a second you feel like he hasn't heard you walk up to him. You are about to call out his name when a thought slides in from that on itching corner of your mind and tells you to pause and breathe in this picture. Loki, the man responsible for an empire that is both feared and respected today; the man with mysteries surrounding him in as dense clouds as the men and women who have fallen for his shadowed personality. The man who can run the world but right now stands on your rooftop with dewy eyes looking at the mug your brother made for him. The man who smiles the best smile when the world isn't looking. The man you have fallen for. Hard. It is a treat to witness this soft moment and it almost stings a little when he raises his head to let his gaze fall on your face. But more than that sting, it burns so well when his pupils dilate and his face glows on sensing your presence. "Do you like your birthday present?" you have to ask. And you cannot undo this big smile that is stuck on your face today. "Like would be an understatement, darling," he mentions while carefully putting the mug back into the box. Darling. The word still holds the power to send a delicious buzz down to your core. More so when he breathes such magic into it. "Oh," you nod and pretend to question, "then I wonder what will happen when you find out the rest of them today." Those fine lines on his forehead appear for second before excitement mixed with disbelief washes them away. "What?" He is barely able to whisper through the rush that is making his skin flush. And you are loving every second of it. "Happy birthday, Mr Loki, sir," you coo sweetly, licking your lips and taking a step closer to him, "let's not waste our time. We have a lot to do in these eighteen hours." And in this very second, he is certain of one thing when he looks at you. He would make sacred grounds in your name, kiss the dirt you walked in and teach the world what love is by painting a picture of you. He will protect that smile with his life and do everything in his power to make the world safer just for you. "Oh, and for your first surprise," you mention with a skip and jump in your step- something he is witnessing for the first time and loving every part of it- "my grandma seems to like you now." He chuckles with a smile so wide that makes you giggle at the adorableness. "That's good to he-wait. What do you mean now?" But you are already turning the corner to walk downstairs, humming a tune. "Kira, what-Kira! What do you mean now?"

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