#ASHA protest

[todayworldnews2k21]

ASHAs’ protest sparks political war of words in Telangana

A day after Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHAs) staged a protest outside the office of the Director of Medical Education (DME) in Koti demanding salary hike, political tensions escalated on Tuesday over the assault on two ASHAs during the demonstration. The two women, Raheembi and Santoshini, sustained injuries during a confrontation when police attempted to forcibly place the protesters…

[midastouch013]

Exes And Stomach Flus

Based on this request

Summary: You just came back from a horrible date, so what happens when you hear your ex throwing up on you way back.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Self-loathing (N). Break ups. Throwing up. Sick Nat

---

The echoes of a disastrous date reverberated in your mind as you trudged through the walls of the avengers compound. The evening had been a train wreck, courtesy of a pick-me chick whose incessant need for validation grated on your last nerve.

The terrible evening was a stark reminder of why you had distanced yourself from the dating scene in the first place. But even as you tried to push the memories aside, thoughts of Natasha flooded your mind, bringing with them the pain of your breakup.

It had been months since Natasha ended things, leaving you with more questions than answers. There were no explanations, no closure—just a void where your relationship had once thrived. In the aftermath, you had retreated from the avengers, fearing having to see her, seeking solace in solitude as you tried to heal the wounds she left on you.

And so when you reached Natasha's door, yours just 3 more down, you hesitated. Sighing heavily, ready to go to your room and drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine.

You, however, stopped when a muffled sound caught your attention—a retching, guttural sound that sent a pang of concern through you and before you knew it, against your better judgment, your hand was knocking softly on her door.

"Natasha?" you called out, pushing the door open cautiously. The bed had been abandoned but the bathroom lights glowed, and the sight that greeted you was unexpected, yet strangely familiar. There she was, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, hunched over the toilet, a ghost of her usual composed self. The sound of her sickness echoed in the room, stark against the backdrop of her vulnerability.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "Hey," you murmured softly, approaching her side. "Are you okay?"

"I'll survive," she said cold and abrupt, although the weakness showed clearly

And that made you falter, feeling like an intruder in her space. The pain of being near her, yet so far from the intimacy you once shared, threatened to overwhelm you. You considered leaving, seeking solace in the company of someone—anyone—but the sight of Natasha's vulnerability rooted you to the spot.

"Nat," you murmured softly, torn between your desire to help and the ache in your heart. "Do you want me to get Clint or someone else?"

You were sure she'd ask for Clint, Wanda at the least, but Natasha's response was immediate, a desperate plea that cut through the air like a knife, a stark contrast to the previous response. "Please, don't leave me," she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Nat-asha, I don't know if this is a good idea," you protested weakly, your heart torn between conflicting emotions.

And for the first time in the last few months, her eyes look up at yours with a silent plea in her eyes. A look you knew all too well—a silent request for comfort, for you to be there in her time of need.

Despite the turmoil within, your heart couldn't ignore the silent plea in Natasha's eyes, nor the desperation in her weakened voice as she begged you to stay.

“Please”

For what felt like an eternity, you battled with your own emotions, protesting weakly against the overwhelming urge to leave. But with each passing moment, Natasha's grip on your hand tightened, her silent plea resonating within you, until finally, with a heavy sigh, you relented.

"I'll stay," you whispered softly, the words barely above a breath, yet weighted with the depth of your emotions.

Natasha's relief was palpable, a flicker of gratitude shining in her eyes as she leaned into your touch. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the quiet of the room, the silence, not for long though, as she hunched over the toilet again.

As Natasha retched again, you winced in sympathy, a pang of sorrow tightening your chest. Without hesitation, you moved closer, your hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as she endured another wave of sickness.

"It's okay, Nat," you whispered softly, your voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of her distress. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

Natasha's only response was a weak nod, her grip on your hand tightening as she struggled to regain her composure. Despite the pain etched on her features, there was a quiet determination in her eyes—a silent acknowledgment of your presence and the strength it brought her.

As the waves of nausea subsided, you helped Natasha to her feet, her body trembling with weakness. With careful movements, you guided her to the bathroom sink, supporting her as she rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face.

"Can you stand?" you asked softly, concern lacing your voice, when you realised she had finished throwing up.

With a determined nod, Natasha attempted to rise, but her legs wobbled beneath her, threatening to give way. Without hesitation, you stepped forward, your arms wrapping around her waist to steady her.

"I've got you," you murmured reassuringly, your voice a gentle anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

Together, you guided Natasha to the sink, supporting her as she leaned against the counter. With trembling hands, you picked up the toothbrush, applying toothpaste with careful precision.

"Here, let me help," you offered, your touch gentle as you guided the brush along Natasha's teeth. With each stroke, you could feel the tension in her body easing, her breaths coming easier as the discomfort began to fade.

As you helped her rinse her mouth and splash water on her face, you couldn't help but marvel at the vulnerability she displayed—the quiet strength that lay beneath her fragile exterior. She'd only ever shown you this few months after you started dating, and that was after you had admitted that you loved her.

With Natasha leaning against you for support, you guided her to the bedroom, your movements slow and deliberate. You helped her change into fresh clothes, your touch a silent reassurance of your presence.

You settled Natasha into bed, ensuring she was comfortable before taking your place on the opposite side, leaving a significant space between you.Then, in the stillness, you heard what seemed to be a small sniffle, followed by another. And another. And soon enough the sound of Natasha's silent tears filled the room. 

As Natasha's tears fell and she let out her first sob, something she never does, only ever silently crying, your concern intensified, your heart pounding with worry. "Nat, what's wrong?" you asked, your voice soft but urgent, reaching out to touch her trembling shoulder that faced away from you.

She recoiled slightly, as if your touch startled her, before finally turning around and meeting your gaze with eyes brimming with pain. "You… you'll hate me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own cries.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your own heartache mixing with concern for her. "Tasha, whatever it is, you can tell me," you urged gently, your voice tinged with worry.

“The reason-” she cracked, unsure of what to say, “The reason we broke up-” 

With a shaky breath, Natasha hesitated, her lips parting as if she struggled to find the right words. "It wasn’t you, it was me," she finally managed, her voice thick with emotion.

A surge of frustration and anger rose within you, the pain of her abrupt departure still fresh in your mind. "What do you mean, it's not me? You ended things without a word, Natasha!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion. "You left me without any explanation, and now you expect me to believe it's just you?"

As the words spilled from your lips, a torrent of hurt and betrayal and partially confused with why she was bringing it up in the first place, Natasha flinched, as if your words were a physical blow.

She let out a shaky breath.

"I felt unworthy… like all I could offer you was pain and darkness," she confessed, her voice trembling with self-condemnation. "I'm a monster, and you deserve so much more than that."

Natasha's confession struck you like a dagger, each syllable driving a wedge deeper into your heart. Your throat tightened with unshed tears as you listened to her unravel before you, her voice trembling with pain and anguish.

"I'm broken, Y/n," she choked out, her words a broken whisper against your chest. "I don't deserve your love... I don't deserve anyone's love."

Natasha's words hung heavy in the air, her words a painful echo of her inner turmoil, and you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. The weight of her self-loathing bore down on you like a crushing weight, threatening to break you more than you were by the breakup. And as she broke down before you, her sobs echoing in the darkness, you knew that you couldn't let her face this pain alone.

With sure hands, you quickly gathered her into your arms, pulling her into your chest despite the resistance in her movements. She pushed against you with all her strength, her cries of anguish muffled against your shoulder as she tried to push you away. But you held on, refusing to let go, your grip firm and unwavering as she struggled against you.

With each push, each desperate attempt to break free, your heart broke a little more, the pain of her rejection cutting deep into your soul. But you refused to give up, your love for her outweighing the ache in your heart. And so you held her close, whispering soothing words into her ear as she fought against you, her cries growing louder with each passing moment.

But slowly, oh so slowly, the resistance began to fade, her struggles growing weaker as the tears continued to fall. And as she finally collapsed against you, her body trembling with exhaustion, you held her close, your arms a silent refuge in the midst of the storm.

Gently, you brushed the tears from her cheeks, your touch tender as you cradled her close.

"Nat," you began softly, your voice a soothing balm in the darkness. "You're not everything you claim to be."

With a shaky breath, you launched into a heartfelt monologue, your words pouring forth much like the contents of her breakfast, lunch and dinner, a few moments prior

"You're not a monster, Nat," you asserted, your voice unwavering. "You're one of the bravest people I know. You escaped the Red Room, survived it. When Clint and I gave you a chance, you took it, you took it and never looked back. You're not broken—you're a survivor."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you continued, recounting the countless moments of humor and warmth that Natasha brought into your life. From her dry wit to her fierce loyalty, each trait painted a picture of a woman far far far away from the despicable figure she saw herself as.

"And let's not forget how you save millions of people, on a weekly basis" you added, a note of pride in your voice. "You risk your life all the time, from stopping bombs from detonating to fighting aliens conjured by gods, and because of you, countless lives were spared. That's not the mark of a monster—that's the mark of a hero."

"And don't even get me started on the cute things you do," you teased gently, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Like the way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating, or the way you pretend to hate it when I steal the last slice of pizza. Those quirks, they make you who you are. They make you human."

Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "Tasha, you deserve the world," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. 

"You in the months we were together made me the luckiest and happiest person in the world, just by being next to me. And no matter what lies in your past, no matter what mistakes you think you've made, I'll always see you for the incredible person you are."

Despite the tears still lingering in her eyes, Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at your words, a faint glimmer of light returning to her gaze.

Natasha's tear-stained eyes searched yours, a glimmer of hope flickering within them. "You really think so?" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," you replied, your own voice filled with conviction. "As a matter of fact, I know so"

She gave you a small smile which didn't last long as her stomach lurched again and she was scrambling out, from under the covers.

As Natasha rushed up from the bed, the urgency in her movements palpable, you couldn't help but spring into action once more. Hurrying after her, you offered your support, holding back her hair as she retched into the toilet once more. The sound tore at your heart, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in this moment of weakness.

Once she had finished, you helped her back to bed, guiding her gently until she was settled against the pillows. As she leaned back against you, her breathing labored, a moment of vulnerability passed between you, her words hanging heavy in the air.

"I still love you," Natasha whispered softly, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the room.

You froze, her admission catching you off guard. "I… I just got back from a date," you stammered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

The hurt flickered in Natasha's eyes, a guardedness settling over her features once more. With a determined look, she tried to sit up, as if preparing to distance herself once more.

But you couldn't let her, you wouldn't. Without hesitation, you reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Nat, wait," you urged, your voice filled with urgency. "I'm… I'm still in love with you too."

And that seemed to click in her head as she relaxed in your arms again but a small tension lingered in the air, the weight of your admissions still hanging heavy between you. And, just as the silence threatened to become suffocating, you felt a spark of mischief flicker within you.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to get back with your ex," you quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

Natasha's chuckle was music to your ears, a soft melody that chased away the lingering tension in the room. "I guess you're right," she replied, her voice laced with amusement, before adding. "I'd kiss you right now if my mouth didn't taste of puke."

The humor in her words caught you off guard, a burst of laughter bubbling up from deep within you. "Well, that's a mood killer if I ever heard one," you joked, the laughter easing the weight from your shoulders.

And so, a toothbrush and paste later, you finally got to kiss the ruby red lips of the love of your life again. Knowing that it only got better from this.

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

[starlightshadowsworld]

It's important to recognise that what's happening in Palestine, what we are witnessing and what people are experiencing, are not isolated to Palestine.

You may hear people talk about the war in Sudan, the silent holocaust in Congo.

It's because these and so many more atrocities in the world are linked. They are preperuated by the same systems.

[Video Transcript:

So as a Palestinian when I say Free Palestine, I am not just talking about Palestine. I started nursing school in 2015 at Saint Louis, just a few miles away from where Michael Brown was killed by police.

Being in that city at that time, watching Black Lives Matter being born, stirred up a lot of feelings for me as a Palestinian.

I saw a country justifying a child being murdered by the state, in the street. I saw the people protesting that murder being vilified.

Standing there, protesting, watching a militarised police force with tear gas and rubber bullets matching towards me.

And I thought, this is that.

As a Palestinian to understand what is going on in Palestine is to understand the de facto aphartied that black Americans experience here in the states.

It's not an accident that when my grandfather came here, he was told to sit and the back of the bus. And it's not an accident that he marched with MLK.

It has been black and Palestinian solidarity, and it continues to be black and Palestinian solidarity.

Because yes, Free Palestine is about Palestine ceasefire now and the military occupation of the Palestinian people. It's also about resisting the global colonial hegemonic structure.

Because the shit happening there is happening here. If it isn't Palestinian women and babies being killed by bombs in Gaza, it's black women and babies being killed in American hospitals.

If its not Palestinian girls missing in the rubble. It is missing and murdered indigenous women here in the United States.

The rage I feel when I hear the names Michael Brown and Treyvon Martin is the same rage I feel when I hear the names Shireen Abu Akleh and Ahmad Manasra.

That's not to say that allyship is transactional, it is to say that the only thing we have is each other.

There's a reason that when people ask me about Free Palestine, I will point them to books on Black Lives matter.

When I say Free Palestine, yes I mean Free Palestine but I also mean Black Lives Matter, I also mean abolition now. I also mean reparations, I also mean land back.

This movement cannot lose steam, not just because there is currently a genocide being perpetuated against my people. And every minute we don't do something Palestinian lives are being lost.

But because this is a global struggle for justice. It does not start and end with Palestine, we will not be free until all of us are free.

The world is waking up, there has never been global solidarity for Palestine like this.

And we have them so scared. The violence is so disproportional because we are challenging a global power structure. Don't let the momentum die because this is about all of us.

Ceasefire now.

End the occupation.

But know what I mean when I say, Free Palestine.

End Transcript.]

Books shown in the video:

"When they call you a terrorist a black lives matter memoir" by Patrisse Khan-Cullors & asha bandele.

"Freedom is a constant struggle. Ferguson, Palestine and the foundations of a movement" by Angela Y. Davis

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

The Game Snippet:

“There,” the star smiled as he slid another flower into her hair, finishing the flower crown of lavandula and bougainvillea, a compromise they’d reached after she’d abruptly shot down his idea of tying her up to give the game more realism. “beautiful, aren’t they?” He’d whispered as his hand gingerly reached forward, gently tucking a braid behind her ear. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she’d struggled to make out his next words. I knew from the first moment I saw them that they’d look rather stunning on you.” “See Corvias?” he grinned in self satisfaction at the crow perched on his shoulder. “What did I tell you?”

He cleared his throat, looking away from her as he muttered under his breath, “... I’ve said too much.”

“Surrender our princess to us now you foul beast!” Kirk demanded as he pointed his wooden sword towards the star’s chest.

“Are you asking or telling me?”

The kids lowered their makeshift swords as they exchanged glances. “Will you give her back if we ask nicely?” Phoebe asked

“Hmm let me think about it,” the star hummed as he tapped his chin with his finger. “Hmm no I don’t think I will.”

“Well then we’re definitely telling you to give her back!” Thatcher affirmed as the other children nodded confidently.

“Why tell when you can take?” The star asked as he gestured to Asha sitting on the fountain next to him. “Come. Retrieve your princess.”

The kids were rightfully hesitant as they once again exchanged glances. “Well there is only one of him and a lot of us.”

“He also looks kinda slow,” Kelsi whispered.

“He probably is,” the star drawled as the children sheepishly quieted, watching as he turned his attention back to Asha.

“So,” he started, leaning against the space on the fountain next to her. “You come here often?”

“Cepheus I live here.” she’d replied, using every ounce of self-control to not seethe or panic.

“In a fountain? I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Cepheus that’s not what I meant and you know it!” she snapped, as the star pushed himself forward. It was only at that moment did she noticed that all the children had disappeared, where they’d gone so quickly was-

“We warned you!” came Diego’s voice as they reappeared, quickly surrounding the pair on either side of the fountain. “CHARGE!” he screamed.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” screamed Eda.

“Have mercy on me! Please!,” Cepheus cried, swiftly side-stepping her, before he’d quickly moved out of the way of an incoming Thatcher. He took a few steps back, focusing on the children ahead of him as he lifted his arms in the air, simultaneously catching Diego and Kelsie who’d attempted an overhead attack.

Neither kid said a word as Cepheus set them both back on their feet, evidently too stunned to speak as Daryl began his attack, wildly swinging his wooden sword at the star. “Hey! Hold still!” he protested.

“I’ll try,” Cepheus sniffled, moving out of the way just in time for Thatcher and Daryl’s blades to abruptly clash to both boys’ astonishment.

“Princess,” whispered a soft voice as Asha turned, catching sight of Phoebe and Aelar crawling towards her. “We’re here to rescue you!”

“So the others were-?”

“A distraction!” Phoebe proudly smiled. “Now c’mon we have to go before-,”

“CAW! CAW CAW!” cried Corvias and several other crows as Phoebe covered her ears. Asha wasn’t sure just how long Corvias had been here but her cries were all it took to summon the star who leaped over Daryl and Thatcher, nearly far higher than any normal person should have as he landed next to Asha.

“How..how are you moving like that?” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Vegetables,” the star humorlessly replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” his arm wrapped around her waist before quickly pulling her to his chest. “I think I’ll be keeping this princess. Thank you.”

“Oh no, you won’t!” Edda cried as the children regrouped.

“Care for another dancing lesson, Asha?,” he aksed, moving Asha out of the reach of her soon-to-be rescuers and onto the fountain’s edge in one fluid movement.

Had Asha not been so distracted by the star’s smile, then she probably would’ve felt a modicum of pity for her rescuers who hurriedly climbed onto the fountain with them, moving this way and that as the star continued to dodge, using one hand to keep her from their reach, while using the other to every now and then catch and balance the attacking children.

“Thank you,” Diego grumbled as he was safely lowered to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” the star smiled, sweeping Asha off her feet before catching the collar of Thatcher who’d dove from the other side of the fountain towards them. In a split second, he’d lowered Thatcher carefully onto the ground next to Diego and the rest of the very defeated-looking children, before placing Asha back onto her feet.

“Are you alright princess?” he’d asked her, his eyes lingering on her arms that had placed themselves around his shoulder.

A part of her had hated how he’d smiled at that moment, as she’d angrily shook her head, and quickly removed her hands from the star. “Well seeing as how I’m still captured, I’d say no. I am not alright.”

He laughed, evidently oblivious to how her heart had begun to race as she felt his hand rest on her shoulder. It hadn’t been as intimate as how he’d held Amala, nor how he’d held her before they’d come across Silver’s ship. But his warmth was a much softer feeling than the one that currently ate away at her face. She frowned, trying to ignore the strange heaviness welling within her chest as she pressed the back of her hand against her cheeks and forehead. “I think I must be coming down with a fever-,”

“A fever?” the star stopped laughing as he’d looked her over. “Are you sick? Do you need medical attention? Food? Water? Maybe I could-,”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH SECRET ATTACK TIME-!” Daryl yelled, charging forward with his sword in one last attempt, as a sudden stream of water quickly emerged from the fountain and splashed him in his face. “Retreat! Retreat! Ahh!” He cried.

“Did you seriously just announce your surprise attack?!” Asha exclaimed as she looked past the concerned star to the still stunned-looking group of children. “Why!?”

“I didn’t expect him to counter it…but he’s too strong.” Daryl sniffed. “He’s even got the fountain on his side…”

Cepheus laughed, the concern in his eyes melting away as he faced the crowd of children. “A valiant effort, my young little knights! But as you can see- ultimately futile.”

“It wasn’t futile!” Diego complained as Daryl wiped some of the water from his face.”It just….didn’t work as intended….or at all, honestly.”

“I don’t understand how he moved like that…” Phoebe whispered.

“He literally caught me mid-air!” Thatcher added, staring at the star in awe.

“He’s definitely not slow either,” Edda pointed out. “I’ve never seen anybody move that fast!”

“Too strong?! Too fast?! You guys aren’t giving up on saving me are you?!” Asha cried.

Edda shrugged, “I dunno, I hear democracy is all the rage nowadays. Maybe we don’t-,”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Asha snapped as the star barely stifled his laughter.

“Looks like you’ll be here with me for a while,” he commented as he took his seat back on the fountain once more. “Or who knows. Maybe even longer.”

“Longer?” She sputtered.

He nodded. His smile vanished as he leaned forward, staring deeply into her eyes. “Yes. Days. Nights. Weekends. Maybe even until the end of time Asha.”

“No-,” she stammered, quickly looking away.

“Yes.” He grabbed her hand, looking somewhat serious.

She shook her head, “No! Please!” She turned her gaze to the onlooking crowd of adults who’d looked on in amusement. “Please! I need an adult-,”

The star smiled, “I’m an adu-,”

“A responsible one!”

“Never mind,” his expression soured as he released her hand.

“Guys please!” she begged. “You can’t leave me with him-,”

“So how are we supposed to save you then?” Edda frowned.

“Strategy!” Phoebe cried. “We need a new strategy.”

“Alright. But what?” The children huddled together, murmuring in low voices that she was certain the star could still hear.

She’d nearly been about to warn them of this when she’d realized that he’d been distracted. Instead of watching the kids, he’d opted to turn his attention to Mrs. Bellerose’s stand, where Amala and her friends stood, examining the flowers.

“I think they should buy Tiger lillies,” Cepheus muttered to himself. “Don’t you think it would look good on them Corvias?” he asked the crow that had now reappeared next to him.

Truth be told, Asha thought those girls would look good wearing any of Mrs. Bellerose’s flowers, but as Asha caught sight of the less-than-friendly looks the kids were giving the star, she had a feeling that those flowers would be the least of her worries.

Maybe allowing a bunch of competitive kids to fight an equally competitive supernatural entity wasn’t such a good idea. But there’d been nothing against the rules that had said that the princess couldn’t help the knights out right? Surely she could save herself! After all who didn’t love and admire a princess who could save herself?

All she had to do was make her way back to her determined knights, which should be easy, given how distracted the star was by other girls.

Carefully she took one step. Then another, only briefly pausing to ensure that Cepheus’s attention was still primarily focused on the kids.

“You really think that will work against me?” the star asked, sounding less amused and more insulted as she braved another few steps away from him.

Oh no. She hadn’t meant for the star to catch her so soon! Not when she’d just started escaping! But to her relief, Edda had called “It’s worth a shot!”

Oh thank goodness. That had meant he was still distracted she thought as she began putting some respectable distance between herself and the star. Now all she had to do was circle around the stalls and then she’d-

“Asha?” Cepheus’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife as she halted. Now both ‘dragon’ and knights were staring at her as she stood there, frozen.

“H-hello Cepheus,” she smiled, giving him a small wave.

“Hi Asha!” he smiled as Corvias stared at her.

“...Bye Cepheus.”

“Bye Asha!” he called as Corvias incredulously looked from him to her before fervently hopping. “Oh….OH- WAIT A MINUTE- PRINCESS GET BACK HERE!” Cepheus yelled as he took off after her.

“HELP!” She screamed once again as the star continued to chase after her. “THIS WAS A MISTAKE AAAHHHH-,”

“After them!” cried the children who followed in pursuit.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Happy Christmas @strandnreyes !! Here is your very late gift from your secret santa!

I had a plan, it was going well, and then I wrote myself into a corner and couldn't figure out how to fix it... and went with plan B at around 6PM yesterday. But I'm pretty happy with the result and I hope you are too!

written for @tarlos-santa for the prompt: roommate’s best friend AU

---

Strickland holiday special (AO3)

“December 24th, 7pm, dinner at my place. Bring yourself and your holiday spirit.” Paul announced when he sat down at Carlos’ table in the bar they’d agreed to meet for a catch up after work.

Carlos was thrown off guard for a second but then shook his head.

“Can’t. Nochebuena with the family. My mom will kill me if I miss that.”

“And you don’t want to spend the holidays with your best friend?” Paul asked, fake hurt, and took a sip from the beer Carlos had ordered for him.

“You’ve met my mother... and she likes you now… but if you keep me from coming to mass with her and the rest of the family, she’s going to put you on her naughty list for next year.” Carlos replied, only half joking. He wasn’t especially excited to spend the holidays with his entire extended family, but it usually was nice to catch up with cousins he only ever saw at birthdays and family gatherings.

Only this year he also had to avoid his sister and her interest in his love life ever since she set him up with a friend of a friend a few months ago.

“Ah but if I promise to feed her boy, even Andrea Reyes will forgive me.” Paul told him and Carlos had to admit to himself he was probably right. “Come on man, it’s just dinner with some friends. Some people from work, and you’ll get to meet Asha for real.”

“I’ve already met her!”

“Outside McDonald’s in the middle of Saturday afternoon shoppers doesn’t count.” Paul argued. “Come on, you know you want to say yes. I’ll make my famous chilli.”

“Well in that case I’m definitely not coming, you chilli heathen.” Carlos joked and Paul good naturedly rolled his eyes.

“If I allow you to assist me in the kitchen, will you come? I’ll even let you disgrace my chilli with your nachos.”

Carlos laughed.

“Ok, fine, you can be my sous chef. Maybe I’ll even let you stir something.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Reyes.” Paul replied and clinked his beer bottle against Carlos’. “Oh and my roommate can help us out too.”

“Roommate? Since when do you have a roommate?”

Paul shrugged.

“A few weeks. The new guy at work I told you about.”

Carlos frowned, trying to remember any new guy Paul had mentioned.

“Tyler. From New York. He’s not going home for the holidays and he doesn’t really know anyone in Austin yet.” Paul clarified.

“Right. And you take in strays now?”

“He was living in some shitty backpackers hostel! I couldn’t let him stay there. The place is a health hazard. And I have a spare room anyway.” He shrugged. “It’s just until he’s found a place of his own. He’s a nice guy. Cleans up after himself. A lot of wrong opinions about pizza though. Come to think about it, you two would probably get on great. You can be wrong about food together!”

“Are you trying to set me up with your new roomie?”

“No, but you might like the guy. You both could do with some new friends.”

“I have friends!” Carlos protested and pointed his bottle at Paul. “I have you.”

“And if you and Tyler hit it off you could have two friends!”

Carlos shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Oh no. No, I know what ‘I’ll think about it’ means in Carlos Reyes speak. It means ‘no but I don’t want to say it to your face.’”

“No, it means I’ll think about it. I might have plans… with Marco.”

“Oh the boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Carlos insisted. “We’ve only been out a few times… I barely know him. Luisa set me up with him.”

Paul nodded.

“I remember. And you like him?”

Carlos pulled a face like the thought of admitting anything of the sort to Paul was causing him physical pain.

“I don’t know… He’s alright… He keeps asking about my job.”

“That’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other don’t they?”

“Well… yeah… but it’s all he talks about. I don’t even know what he does for a living.”

“So ask him.” Paul said simply and Carlos gave a huff in reply.

They spent the rest of the night talking about Paul’s party plans, and carefully avoiding the topic of Carlos’ love life. Which he was more than grateful for.

By the time the 24th came around, Carlos had struck a deal with his mother. He’d promised her he’d go to midnight mass with her and the rest of the family, and then spend the entire Christmas at the ranch with them, so he’d be able to go to Paul’s dinner party and help him cook in the afternoon.

They’d decided on a menu together, agreeing to stay away from any controversial dishes and just focusing on putting a nice meal together for their friends.

Carlos had managed to wrangle the guest list out of Paul, and he knew most people that would attend. All but one. The mysterious Tyler.

Paul had mentioned he’d be helping them prep and Carlos was curious about the guy. Apparently he’d moved to Texas after a break up, but Paul either didn’t know the details or didn’t feel like it was his place to share and hadn’t told him anything more.

Not even a last name, which meant Carlos couldn’t even casually run him through the system.

He parked his car outside of Paul’s building and grabbed the supplies he’d picked up from the backseat before making his way to the front door. He tried to shift the bags in his arms so he could ring the doorbell without dropping anything when someone jogged up to him.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get that for you.” The person said and reached around him to open the door with a key.

“Thanks…” Carlos mumbled and walked into the building, up to the elevator. The person followed him and pushed the button for him.

“What floor are you headed?” the guy asked when they stepped into the elevator.

“Uh four.”

“Me too. Do you need a hand with those bags? I can carry one for you.” The person offered. “I promise I won’t run off with them.”

Carlos chuckled and shifted one of the bags so the person could take it from him. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at them yet, just a flash of a silver grey jacket and brown hair, but when he moved the bag out of the way, he came face to face with easily the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

“Thanks.” Carlos managed to say and the beautiful man smiled at him, making him even more beautiful.

“No problem. Do you live in this building too? I only moved in a couple of weeks ago, I don’t really know the neighbours yet.”

“Oh uh no… I’m just… visiting my friend.” Carlos stammered, mentally kicking himself for not being able to keep his cool around a cute guy. “He lives at number 425.”

“No way.”

“Uh…”

“You’re Carlos!” It was a statement, not a question.

“Uh…”

“I’m TK.” The beautiful man said as the elevator doors opened and they walked onto Paul’s floor. “Paul mentioned you would be coming over to help prepare for tonight.”

“I… oh… you… you work with Paul…” Carlos stammered.

“Yeah, and he lets me crash in his spare room until I’ve found my own place. You don’t happen to know of any apartments for rent that don’t cost a small fortune, do you?”

“No… sorry.”

“That’s too bad.” The beautiful man stopped outside of Paul’s door and put his key in the lock. “Hey, look who I ran into downstairs.” He called out to Paul when he walked into the apartment.

“Oh, great, you’ve already met. Saves me the introductions. Now let’s get to work, this meal won’t cook itself.” Paul said, clapping his hands to spur his friends on.

Carlos was put on chopping duties and did his best to focus on the task at hand. The three of them chatted a little while they worked, with mainly Paul and TK swapping work stories.

“Chicago FD could take NYFD.” Paul insisted and Carlos had no clue what they were talking about. “Hell they could take NYFD and AFD.”

TK laughed.

“Sure, sure.” He popped an olive into his mouth and Carlos was absolutely mesmerised by him. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the smile that never seemed to leave his face, the curve of his lips… the way they would feel against his own… the –

“Ow! Shit, shit, shit, damn it!” Carlos swore and sucked his finger into his mouth. “The knife slipped.”

TK wiped his hands on a dish towel and carefully pulled Carlos’ hand away from his mouth.

“I’m a paramedic.” He told him. “Let me see.”

“I’ll go get the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Paul announced but neither man even so much as acknowledged him.

“It’s nothing.” Carlos insisted.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” TK told him and guided him over to the sink to run his hand under the tap. “I don’t think it’s very deep.” He said after taking a closer look at the cut.” “I think a simple bandage will do.”

“Right… ok.”

“One first aid kit!” Paul said a little too loudly, dropping the box onto the kitchen table. “It cost me a small fortune so it better have everything you need.”   

TK nodded and grabbed a paper towel, pressing it to the cut in Carlos’ hand.

“Keep pressure on that while I get some gauze to wrap it up.”

“You really don’t have to go through all this trouble for me… it’s just a small cut. It’ll be fine.”

“Reyes will you just let the medic treat that damn hand instead of bleeding all over my kitchen?” Paul sighed. “Your boyfriend won’t be happy if we let you bleed out on the onions.”

Carlos winced and he saw TK freeze up for a few seconds.

Damn it.

“You have a boyfriend?” TK asked, trying to sound casual, not looking at him but digging through the med kit instead.

“No!” Carlos said, a little louder than strictly necessary.

“Oh no, we’re not allowed to use the B word.” Paul said, exasperated. “They’ve just been going on dates for like three months. That’s not boyfriend behaviour at all.”

“We broke up.” Carlos blurted out, almost desperate to see TK’s reaction.

“Oh, I’m sorry man.” Paul replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine. He… I… we uhm… it just wasn’t working. We wanted different things.” Carlos told them. He didn’t want to go into detail, but at the same time needed TK to know he did not have a boyfriend.

“Well at least you found out now and not during a romantic dinner with an engagement ring in your pocket.” TK said, removing the paper towel from Carlos’ hand and carefully putting a gauze pad on it.

“Y-yeah.” Carlos agreed, sensing there was a story behind TK’s comment but not wanting to pry.

TK wrapped up Carlos’ hand with the care and precision of someone treating an arterial bleed, when they both knew a simple band aid would have done the trick.

“How’s that?” he asked when he put the last piece of tape on the bandage. “Not too tight?”

“It’s perfect.”

They managed to get through the rest of the afternoon without any more injuries, and Carlos had managed to compose himself and function more or less like a normal person by the time the other guests started to arrive.

He knew most of them through work and in Nancy’s case from high school math and science. He enjoyed catching up with them but still his eyes were constantly drawn to TK.

And maybe he was imagining things, but it looked like TK was looking at him too.

“Hellooo, earth to Carlos.” Nancy waved a hand in front of his face. “I asked you a question.”

“What? Sorry… I kind of zoned out for a minute there.”

“Uhuh, I noticed. I was talking about the red vs blue baseball game.”

“What about it?”

“Are you playing? Who is on the APD team? I’m trying to scope out the competition.”

“I don’t know. It’s months away.”

“She’s got a whole file with stats on everyone on the FD team on her computer.” Marjan cut in. “And she’s trying to find out who’s playing for PD so she can put together the same kind of file for them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared! I just want to win next time.” Nancy argued. “TK, do you play baseball?”

“I was in little league. I was pretty good.” TK replied. “Well according to my mom and my step dad anyway.” He laughed a little and took a sip of his drink.

“Good enough for me. We’ll have to get you to the batting cages in the new year so I can see you play.” Nancy decided.

“Who died and made you coach of the FD team?” Paul asked and the two of them got into an argument that snowballed into a debate where somehow Paul’s girlfriend Asha ended up as some kind of referee.

Carlos however could only focus on TK. He was sitting on the other side of the table, leaning back in his chair, drink in hand and an amused look on his face. He’d gotten changed before dinner and he was wearing a dark sweater with stripes across the chest and a diamond stud in his ear.

Carlos’ mouth had gone dry at the sight of him and he’d felt severely under dressed in his simple button down shirt and jeans.

“Who wants dessert?” Asha asked the group, trying to steer the conversations to a safer topic.

“I’ll get it.” Carlos said quickly, happy to be able to escape the madness for a few minutes and get his head together.

“I’ll help.” TK said, getting up from the table too and following him to the kitchen. “How’s your hand?” he asked as Carlos started pulling bowls from the kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, it’s fine.” He flexed a few times. “I barely feel it.” He smiled. “You’re a great doctor.”

“Paramedic.” TK corrected him. “It’s not the same. But thank you.”

Carlos desperately wanted to keep talking to him but didn’t know what to say. He tried to scoop some ice cream into one of the bowls but barely managed to get anything out of the container and only ended up bending the spoon.

“I guess we should have remembered to take it out of the freezer earlier.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” TK agreed. “If you run the hot water and hold the spoon under it, it’ll be easier to scoop with.” He suggested. “Or… we could just wait.”

He stepped closer to Carlos in the tiny kitchen and his eyes flicked between the other man’s eyes and lips.

There was laughter coming from the living room and someone, probably Paul, had put on some music.

“Yeah, we could… do that. I don’t think they’re really desperate for that ice cream.”

TK smiled.

“I don’t think so either…”

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours until they suddenly moved at the same time.

TK grabbed a fistful of Carlos’ shirt, while Carlos’ hands were on TK’s neck, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

He felt TK’s tongue running along his lips and Carlos happily opened his mouth for him.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed and neither of them wanted to stop.

Carlos’ hands were firmly in TK’s hair, and TK had managed to undo some of the buttons on Carlos’ shirt. They were both breathless by the time they had to come up for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day.” TK admitted. “I was gutted when Paul said you had a boyfriend.”

“Don’t have one of those.” Carlos insisted. “I’m very single.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“How would you like to change that?”

[pigeonwhumps]

Courtroom

MD-264N masterlist

So um. You may notice this is not my Whumptober story. This is bc my brain decided it would only write this today. But enjoy anyway! At least I'm writing more than a sentence or two again!

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee

@whatwhumpcomments @whump-tr0pes @snakebites-and-ink @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds

@a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

An AU of MD-264N based on this prompt by @lumpywhump. Morgan goes on trial.

1.4k

CWs: living weapon whumpee, minor whump (discussed), past minor whump, meltdown, unintentional attempted self-harm (head banging), guns, gunshots

"I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Asha glances across at Morgan worriedly. This is the make-or-break evidence of the trial, she's sure of it, she hasn't seen what Blue has to present but she's seen the medical aftermath of it, and she's seen Blue's reaction (she knows exactly when he cracked the files because that's when he brought her the widened cutlery for them, visibly seething). The problem is that Morgan hasn't visibly reacted to anything so far today, and Asha doesn't think that'll help in the eyes of the judges.

Also, against all medical advice, Morgan is standing for the trial. It's standard. They shouldn't be, not on that ankle, not if they don't want to make the permanent damage worse. They didn't even walk here, but apparently weapons don't get seating if they're being reprimanded, so they won't sit now.

But it's been hours, and Asha is really worried about that ankle.

Blue clears his throat and Asha snaps her attention back to him.

"As you all know, Morgan has been with the Regime's Ministry of Defence since they were eight. Within their file was video and written evidence dating back to then. Your Honours, you have the written reports in your evidence packs, but there's videos that I am going to show you chronologically." He clicks a remote control and the screen changes to the hallway of a normal-seeming family home, books and toys scattered around. The 'play' triangle is superimposed over it. "Morgan's parents were well-documented protesters, though by the time they were eight they'd both stepped back from the movement to raise their child. Morgan had several disabilities and powers, both of which put them in danger. They were known as Lili then, and this video, of their... I suppose you could say recruitment, if you want to follow the government's euphemisms, is the last evidence we have of them having a name rather than a serial number until Rhian Williams named them Morgan upon their arrival here. If I may play the video, Your Honour?"

The head judge nods, and the video starts.

There's a high-pitched giggle off-screen, and then a kid charges into view, holding a battered notebook with sticky bookmarks sticking out of the side.

Asha's breath hitches. This must be Morgan. They don't look eight. They're so small.

"Hey!"

Morgan – Lili? – giggles again. A woman runs in, grabbing Morgan around the middle and lifting them into the air. Their long brown hair flies around them, mixing with her light hair.

"Got you! Now give me my notes back!"

There's a movement in the courtroom and Asha glances over. Morgan's dropped to the floor. At first Asha thinks it's just their ankle, but then they get up, clawing at the thin wooden rail attached to the plexiglass sides. Their eyes are fixed on the screen, and at first they look no more emotional than before, but tears stream down their cheeks, and their hands tremble.

"No!"

The woman smiles and snatches the notebook. "Too late. Let's see what you've given me."

As the woman flips through the pages, Asha notices the subtitles for the first time and her breath catches in her throat. She was focused so much on Morgan she didn't notice the language switch – she's not sure how that happened. But Welsh. Morgan's Welsh. A different part of Wales to herself, it sounds like more of a borders accent to Asha's north Wales, but they're Welsh. Can they still speak it? Would it help them if she did? Make them feel less alone?

The woman's eyes widen. "Baby, you–"

A door latch clicks off-screen. "Honey, I'm home!"

Morgan grins and scrambles off the woman, running for the edge of the screen. "Tad!"

Their dad enters the video, catching Morgan around the waist and spinning them in a circle. "Hey little monster. How was your day?"

"I decorated mam's notebook! And I've been practicing my writing!"

"Here, have a look," says Morgan's mam, passing the notebook over with a smile. Their dad's grin widens.

"You wrote your name? And a whole sentence?"

Morgan nods enthusiastically.

"She did indeed. She also coloured in my notes at the same time, but I'm sure my professor won't mind too much."

Morgan's dad ruffles their hair. "Well, I think this calls for celebratory pancakes. Why don't you go and pick out the mould?"

Morgan nods and charges off-screen. Morgan's dad wilts and he runs a hand through his hair. Their mam kisses him.

"Hard day at work?"

"No kidding. I got the number for that specialist, but we don't have long. If anyone catches wind of Lili..."

"We don't have long. But let's leave today for celebrating Lili. 50p she chooses the Archimedes mould?"

"I'd be a fool to take that bet." He puts an arm around her shoulders and they wander off-screen. There's nothing for a minute, just a blank hallway with no sound. Whatever camera bug this is by the former regime, it's good quality.

"Hey baby, what'd you choose?"

"Archimedes!"

"Your favourite. Come and help me with–"

There's a fast, loud banging on a door. "Ministry of Defence! Open up!"

Someone curses. Morgan yelps.

"Lili, I will always love you. Now run. Just like we practiced."

"Mam? Tad? What's–"

"Go! We'll catch you up."

A running child's footsteps. Morgan's dad strides into the hallway and takes down a framed painting, unlocking the safe beneath it and passing a gun to their mum.

She cocks it. Was it already loaded in there? Who were Morgan's parents?

"I love you."

"And I you."

The door crashes in. The sound of gunshots fills the room, and not just from Morgan's parents. They–

"No!"

The scream is strangled and wet. Asha glances around to see Morgan on their knees, their head in their hands, rocking. They look devastated.

The video doesn't end there, as Morgan's dragged on-screen, kicking and screaming, smacked around the head until she stops, and all of this over her parents' bodies, splayed out on the wood, blood pooling around them.

There's a makeshift height chart just visible in the last shot, the pencil marks on the wallpaper sprayed with blood.

This video ends here, with Morgan's removal, but it's not the only one. Asha doesn't know how Blue can stand there and present these so calmly. There's one very soon after, with Morgan's head newly-shaved, a shock harness and mittens freshly fitted, and they look so cold. They're in shock, they're an orphan, but they're not allowed to grieve, the attitudes of the handlers makes that clear. They don't understand but nobody's giving them a chance to do so.

And so it continues. And so Morgan grows up. Never spoken of as a person, never given an inch, locked into the tiniest room, shocked until they stop moving, stop speaking. Stop resisting. Trained, punished. Taught to kill, punished when they resist, hesitate, react violently to the harsh sounds and movements and actions. Hurt until they stop hesitating, forget that they can, perhaps forget that they were ever anything but a weapon, forged in the fires of pain and desperation, purged of everything they don't actively need in an effort to survive.

But the nightmares never stop. They still haven't, Asha knows. She just didn't have the context until now.

Meanwhile, present-day Morgan is getting worse with every piece of evidence. Scrambling back when certain people come on screen, and freezing, and pleading with the videos when they think they're going to be punished. Their face is blotchy with silent tears, and they keen, rocking back and forth in distress from the latest video (active mission testing).

And then they start trying to bash their head against the plexiglass, and one of their guards has to restrain them. Asha should be there, she's their doctor, but she tries to stand and someone official shakes their head at her. It's not fair, she knows she's part of the trial, but she– she–

"They've survived worse, they'll be okay," whispers Rhian hoarsely. Asha nods, unable to speak. She should still be there.

She aches to go to them. She knew it was bad – only a fool would see a young person wearing an electroshock harness and think it wasn't – but she didn't realise it was this bad.

But she can't. She's not allowed, she can't risk the trial, they won't let her. All she can do is sit here and watch uselessly as Morgan's heart is ripped wide open, all over the very public courtroom floor.

[indraste-darktalon]

Title: Heart don't fail me now. You're all I've got left. (Indy) Word Count: 3000 Summary: Indy says another goodbye in her typical fashion. Warnings: alcohol, angst, death (of a family member), violence Song Link

Indy had been a functional alcoholic for decades. Cheerfully so, even, at least on the surface. Was it a good example to set as a healer? Absolutely not. Was it good for her, personally? No, but when she could just wipe out the excess in her system to prevent long-term organ damage, as well as stay coherent enough to work and be social, what did it matter? A solid buzz made her less nervous in social situations. It made her less likely to have nervous breakdowns in tense situations, and sometimes it was even kind enough to keep nightmares away. It made it possible to not have to deal with the far-reaching effects that the trauma of healing friends, family, and comerades over the decades had carved into her. And sometimes, it even made it possible to forget how guilty she was that despite being a genuinely gifted healer, she'd still lost friend after friend—as well as her entire family—over the past several decades.

But it wasn't doing a fucking thing to help her cope with the fact that her wife was dead.

They'd known it was coming, at least. That had made their few remaining days incredibly painful, but also savorable. Blix had asked her to enchant something that would let Indy know if her heart stopped, in case they weren't together when she was killed. A small enchant like that had been simple enough to add to her wedding ring; adding the same tracker to Blix's had probably been unnecessary, but the rings were a matched set. Close together, they glowed. And far apart, they gave a slow, constant pulse at the same rate of a heart at rest. Indy wished she'd thought of it sooner, because it was a surprisingly soothing feeling.

She didn't tell her wife that her ring beat to Indy's resting heart rate, and hers beat to Blix's. It was painfully, stupidly sentimental, but after so many years holding her wife close and listening to her live and breathe in the dark while trying to stay awake to avoid the ghosts in her head, well…. She wanted a few more hours, a few more days, of its rhythm.

The pause between every single pulse of the ring's band cut deep, but even that was tolerable compared to the thought of waiting and not knowing. Her entire family had been in the limbo of the missing for years, and Indy didn't want to have to go through that ever again.

At least Blix had been given the chance to offer her some certainty that there was no longer a need to either wait or look for her. It was sad to call that an improvement over her norm, but Indy was too grateful to be bitter that certainty was so unusual.

SILVERLOCH

Indy knew, when Blix left on the latest hunt, that she wasn't coming back from it. Maybe that was fatalism, but when the gentle beat that tracked Blix's heart stopped coming from her wedding ring, Indy just stared down at the ruby that her wife had picked to complement her tattoos and let her jaw clench until her teeth hurt. Feeling a sense of surprise would have been a kindness, honestly; it was rarely a good thing when the predictions the healer part of her made turned out to be right.

"You fucking idiot," she whispered.

She wasn't sure which of them she was talking to, but it also no longer mattered.

Indy reached for her flask, took a solid drink, and then quietly picked up the bag she'd packed that morning. After that, all she needed to do was call for their Darters and lock up the house. Asha and Tilly both immediately knew that something was wrong, and flew to each of their preferred shoulders without protest. Asha had been with Indy the second time she'd run away to mourn someone, and she seemed to know what was coming, based on the fact that she began to hum—her version of purring—against Indy's neck the moment they turned from the house.

"It'll be okay, baby girl," she reassured Asha, though the way her voice cracked didn't sell the words to any of them.

But it would be okay—or at least different from the last time—because she wasn't going to let it be anything else. Indy still had connections to the world, and she had fought hard to both make and keep them over the years since her return from Nagrand. No matter how strong the urge was, she wasn't going to fuck off into the wilderness without giving the people in her life some sort of indication where to find her. Running away had kept her from being there for the death of her brother and her parents both, and she wasn't going to make that mistake a third time.

So she dropped letters in the mailbox as she passed it: one to Andennaris, one to Ranek (and through Ranek, one announcing a hiatus from work. It was poor form to leave him to tell their coworkers since they'd been working with Blix for years, but she didn't have it in her to do it herself). The two of them had been warned in advance that this would be happening, so the content of their letters wouldn't be blindsiding, at least.

There was also one addressed to Rethea tucked into the envelope with Andy's; he was letting her stay with him since her home had been turned to dust, so he was her most reliable address at present. (And inside Reth's letter, a request to tell Grenfield what had happened; they mostly fished and drank too much to work on projects they'd gotten together to tailor, but if he was warned in advance, she wouldn't feel the urge to explain anything when they saw each other next. That would be ideal for both of them.)

The two addressed to Xarian and Andrastyn had been more difficult to send, but… if they reached out in response, she knew that they would understand why she was planning to handle her grief in the way she was. (That was precisely why they had been harder to notify, in fact.) Ranek and her brother might, too, but something in her hadn't been able to admit just how self-destructive she was planning to be to either of them.

Not long-term self destruction; she reminded herself frequently that she wasn't going to give up on everyone she'd found, met, and become close to over one new grief, no matter how much she wanted to hide like an injured animal. But at the same time, funerals weren't Indy's thing. Public grief among friends and family was more than she could handle—especially since definitely be expected to speak. As sad as it was, Blix would understand Indy mourning her by falling right back into the state she'd been when the two of them had met.

The day Blix had found out and told Indy what was about to happen, Blix had asked her to make sure she was remembered in a way that would be memorable, and lively, and as free of pain as possible. Indy had agreed, of course, but they had both known from the seconds the words left her mouth that Indy wouldn't be able to honor that promise. (At least Indy hoped Blix had known.)

Maybe if Blix had been blessed enough to live to old age, like Indy had so desperately wanted. Maybe if Indy still had a goddess she felt she could turn to for comfort, and ask to look after her wife, since she was an honorary druid (the tree hand made the rules, in that case).

But there were no victories here, and nothing to celebrate: misery, squandered chances, and a lack of time were everywhere in Azeroth, at any given point in time. If every one were memorialized, nobody would ever get anything done. In her mind, any formal memorial would have been nothing more than a waste, and Indy didn't want Blix's fellow hunters to have to deal with her working through that belief in a ceremony meant to honor a fallen friend and beloved wife.

Indy made a point to check her mail every few days, though nobody would have a way to know that. The message from Blix's fellow hunters, asking for her input, assistance, and participation in a memorial in her wife's name, was a mixed blessing. She was able to pass on what Blix had wanted for a funeral. Something positive, and a little strange—something meant to help heal the cut a little—and then she left to go very intentionally hurt herself for a while instead of sticking around to attend the service herself.

Guilt was a fel of an emotion.

BORALUS

Physical pain was supposed to help. The kind that came from missing a dodge or failing to block properly, the kind that signaled a direct hit with her bare knuckles. The dull throb of her back after being slammed too hard into a wall, post, or unprepared piece of furniture. The cheers and jeers of the crowd were supposed to be loud enough to drown out the disaster in her mind, too—whatever hadn't already been drowned in the booze, at least.

But this was her fourth—fifth?—underground brawling ring tournament in Boralus, and nothing was as numb as it should be. She'd blown through all the illegal boxing and brawling in Stormwind and Dalaran (and suddenly "blown through" didn't feel like a good word choice, but at least she hadn't said it aloud) in the six months Blix and her brother had been missing at the same time. Every establishment there had remembered her, unfortunately, so she'd caught a portal and moved on to a city whose bars didn't yet consider her notorious.

Indy had been to the city a few times when her brother still called it home, and had been drinking buddies a few of the fighters. But the people running the fights hadn't known the look in her eyes well enough to turn her away. It hadn't been a bad time when she'd last been through, so how would they even know?

But the drink hadn't been enough. Splitting her knuckles against opponents, then refusing to heal between fights hadn't, either. Darktalon rage was bad enough without giving it a self-destructive bent, and nobody was enjoying the results. Well. The people placing bets were, because she was far too volatile to be reliable. And that added chance into the game.

Each night ended the same, though: exhausted, a bloody, taloned hand clutching a drink glass, and her forehead planted against the tabletop as she debated cleansing enough booze out of her to keep her going, or to finish the drink and go get something she could pretend was sleep.

Indy was having a particulary difficult time with that decision the night a chair scraped loudly on the floor beside her, and she realized someone had joined her at the table she'd been using as a pillow.

"The table and I are taken," Indy muttered to the wood grain. "Well. It's taken with me."

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was halfway through sending her elbow directly into whatever asshole had just grabbed her before she registered that the voice of the man seated beside her was familiar.

"Ind."

Her ears shot up to alertness, and she raised her head to stare blankly at the face of her older brother. "And? …Did you track me down." She huffed indignantly at him. "I said I'd be in Nagrand." "Yes, you did. But when I didn't find you there, I knew Stormwind was out. So that saved time." His lips pressed into a thin line (oh no, disapproval) before he added, "I lived here for years, and I remember where you like to fight. It wasn't that difficult to find you. Follow the feathers and find the upset tenders."

She shrugged. "I'm working through my feelings." "You've worked through them. You've tenderized them." There might have been a hint of a smile at that, but it wasn't reaching his voice. His tone was soft, but firm. "It's time to come back."

"I can't—" her voice cracked, but because it was Andy, she didn't care. "I can't go home."

Andennaris offered out an arm, and she slumped against his side like she had been doing since she was little.

"I meant Nagrand," he explained, and squeezed her against him slightly.

He was a little colder to lean against, these days. But the voice she'd known for centuries was still there, underneath the echo, though the comfort would have been welcome even if it wasn't. Still, she hadn't been the little sister since they'd been reunited. It felt weak. They'd been working together on restoring his memories for years, and she had always tried to be the support when the hard moments came. And now here he was, returning the favor—

No, not returning the favor. Being family. Neither of them were keeping a tally.

"You shouldn't go with me. You've got Reth staying wi—"

"Ind. She can stay alone for a while. You know she'd prefer that. She just needs a roof, and she has a key." He squeezed her again. "You need a brother. And I am here."

I am here, and the unspoken and I know I haven't always been. For a moment she felt like she might break down completely, right there in the middle of the tavern. But instead, she took a deep breath, and relaxed enough to be able to mentally let him take the older sibling role back from her.

(It was the oddest combination of new and normal.)

She sniffled and blinked away the moisture trying to overtake her eyes. "You really want to come with me?" "Of course. I'm packed for it already. Once you get your things together, we can go."

It had been hard, letting Blix in enough for her to be able to help Indy in an emotional capacity. There was a time when she'd cried with her older brother without feeling shamed, or pathetic, but healers couldn't be weak. They—

Indy finally turned her head enough to look at her brother. She'd fought so hard to find her family again, and actual friends, so that she could be more than an awkward emotional rock that healed people before drinking all the liquor and roosting in a tree.

But what was the point of the hurt, and the fear, and the effort, if she didn't let herself benefit from having people in her life again?

"Okay," Indy said through a heavy sigh. "Let me get my things. And then, I guess, you get to spend however long you can stand with the saddest camping partner available." She said it with a grin, and oddly enough, it was a genuine one.

He gave her a small smile. "Your company, and free energy for me? We'll both be feeling great, then."

She laughed and started to rise, pushing her braid over her shoulder. "Rude. And fine, you win."

Her brother caught her lightly by the wrist before she was fully out of reach. When he replied, his voice was serious again. "I'm with you for as long as you need. Rethea has been told I'm not available for work, and she's more worried about you as a friend than she is about me being free for contracts."

Indy sank her fangs into her lower lip and sighed. Dealing with the consequences of having people in her life who cared was hurting her pride a little. And that was fucking stupid. She took a deep, tired breath, and then finished standing with a very genuine groan as bruises, pulled muscles, and joints protested.

She spun her wedding ring around its finger, and tried not to focus on how still and dull it was. Part of her had wanted to take it off, but that was the same part of her that wanted to run and hide. Apparently, it was going to be just as hard to remain with her loved ones as it had been to find them. Every feather on her body was singing for her to shapeshift and sneak off when she went to her room to get her things.

But Indy had already learned, for worse rather than better, that running away was easy. And sadly, easy was never better.

Blix was a hole through her core that might never close properly, but that didn't mean that she needed to turn her back on everyone she'd met and everything else she'd built since coming back from her first self-imposed exile.

""Let's get my things and head out, then," she said, finally meeting her brother's flickering, empty eyes. "Asha will be happy to see you."

"…You left her alone in your room?"

"Of course not! Tilly is in there, too, so it's even worse than you're imagining."

He started laughing, and the sound caught in Indy's ribs, forcing her to replicate it. It had been days since she'd last laughed, and it the fact that it already felt a little foreign seemed sad.

But her big brother had found her. It might take a long time for Indy to feel anything remotely close to normal again, but thanks to Andennaris, she also wouldn't feel alone.

[annymation]

Don’t mean to sound pushy, but are you gonna post the conversation that Simon had with Magnifico?

Not pushy at all! I didn’t share it before because no one asked for it so I assumed people weren’t interested, but now that you asked, here’s how it played out:

The king looks at Simon through the mirror with an intrigued look, wanting to know what this is all about.

Simon takes a deep breath, no turning back now, he just hopes that this works

“I… I know where the star is.”

The king’s eyes light up with delight once he hears that “Oooh do you now? How fortunate!” he smiles at the mirror, but then he remembers the lie he told his people was that the star is a threat, so he adds with a faux sense of worry in his voice "I do hope you're not too close to it, lad. That star can be quite cunning."

Simon is conflicted if he believes that's true and Asha was manipulated or believe that Aster is genuinely a good guy and the king is mistaken... But right now the truth doesn't matter, all he knows is that he can't let his friends go through with this plan, or they'll all be in danger, but they won't listen to him so... This is the only way.

"He hasn't done anything to us. Now, I can tell you where he is if you swear tha-"

"Us?" The king asks, knowing full well who he means, but faking confusion "Ah yes, you mean you and Asha, of course, well, make sure to not let her get away when I arrive, poor thing is clearly under a spell, but I'll be sure to fix that."

"N-no wait! You can't take her!" Simon protests

Magnifico raises an eyebrow at that "Can't I? And why is that?"

"... I want to make a deal." Simon says determined

"... Go on." The king is curious to where this is going

"I can get Aster away from Asha and lead him to you if you come here in the woods... But in turn, I need you to swear no harm will come to her."

"... Hmmm" Magnifico thinks for a moment, that sounds way too good to be true... And weird. Why would this boy who claims to be Asha's friend do this? "Before we agree on anything, I must know... How did you find them before my soldiers?"

Simon gets nervous, he didn't want to mention his friends in all of this, then they'd just get in trouble, and that's exactly what he's trying to avoid "Uh ya know... I just went alone and found them, nothing much to it really..." He lies, quite badly.

Magnifico takes notice of his nervousness, and decides that maybe Simon just need a little push to give him the answers he wants...

"Now now, I do hope I'm mistaken but... I sense you're not being completely honest with me, Simon." His eyes glow green, sending a mesmerizing gleam through the mirror straight to Simon's eyes, the young man feels his eyelids grow heavier "Let's try this again, shall we? How did you find them?" He repeats the question with a friendly smile, his eyes shinning bright green.

"... My friends wanted to go find them... So I went with them to help..." Simon shakes his head a bit... Why did he just say that?

"Friends you say? Interesting, and what are Asha and these friends up to?" His eyes glow green longer this time, his smile slowly turning more malicious as there's no need to hide it.

Simon feels even more tired than usual, his mouth speaks without him wanting it to "We planned on how to defeat you..."

"Oh my, you don't say" He says with obvious sarcasm, pretending to be shocked "Now I'm curious, how do you plan on achieving such a thing?"

He snaps back to reality again, Simon realizes he's speaking too much, this isn't what he wanted at all, and the king is clearly using his magic on him "This is all wrong, I can't tell you these things I... I- I made a mistake." Simon is distressed, he looks away from the mirror.

"A mistake?" the king repeats his words with a fake voice of concern

"I- I just wanted to keep them safe, I tried to tell them it was dangerous for us to go in the woods, but they didn't listen, they never listen! And I knew they wouldn't listen if I said this plan won't work." Simon is ranting more to himself than to the king, who is listening every word with a wicked smile, ready to take advantage of this added context. Simon makes up his mind that he's not going through with this, he picks up a rock from the cave, and looks angrily at the mirror ready to break it "I thought I could keep them safe if I just gave you what you wanted... But you're even worse than what Asha said! And I'm not gonna let you use me to hurt th-"

He looks at the mirror one last time before smashing the rock on it... And that was a big mistake.

When he looks at the mirror Magnifico's eyes are glowing green, not momentarily but constantly now, sending his hypnotic magic at full force to the already sleepy teen.

"Shhhhh shh shh there there Simon, that's quite enough... Put that rock down now." His voice is smooth as silk, Simon tries to fight it, but it's pointless. He let's go of the rock "Well done... So all you wish is to keep your friends safe, but they are dead set on defying me, hmm?" The king says with a mocking voice of pity, Simon nods slowly, unable to looks away from the mirror "Tsk tsk tsk how exhausting this must be for you, being the only voice of reason and all... But don't you worry Simon, trust me, I shall bring them no harm whatsoever... If you do as I say. You can do that, can't you?" Simon once again nods yes, he's deep into the spell, but deep down he's still trying to resist, Magnifico smiles sinisterly but still with a slow and calming voice "Of course you can, it's so much easier to just do as your king says. Go on now, tell me aaaaall about this little plan of theirs, and don't leave any details~"

And Simon does, however, with the little resistance he still has, he omits the information about Asha's magic pencil, leaving it vague how they'd get to the castle or unlock the doors.

Magnifico finds out about how they plan to break his staff, and to get in the castle through the dungeon, and he already begins to plan in his head how to fool them with a fake gem, and how to trap them in the castle. And as for Asha, well, the king promised he'd bring her no harm... But Amaya didn't say anything.

And she was standing there listening to the whole conversation while petting Bravo, already thinking how she'd make the girl pay.

Once he gets all the information he needed, Magnifico's eyes go back to normal, allowing Simon to finally snap out of trance.

Simon blinks a few times feeling dizzy, he doesn't quite remember all that he just told him, only a few glimpses of what he wants Simon to do "Ugh... Wha- what were we talking about?"

"Ooh I think you just dozed off for a bit there, don't worry heheh" Magnifico smiles innocently like nothing happened "As I was saying, all I need from you is that you keep your friends locked up in the kitchen, that's easy enough for your sleepy head to handle, isn't it?" He says condescendingly

Simon doesn't like this plan at all but... What choice does he have? "Y-yes... And you swear they'll be alright?"

"Like I said, IF you keep them in there, then I won't do anything to them... Am I clear?" The king is not even trying to hide that he's threatening them now, either Simon makes this go just as Magnifico wants, or his friends will pay the price... And it would all be his fault.

Simon just wants this to end, all he can say is a quiet "...Yes"

But Magnifico is not satisfied with just that, and singsongs ""Yes" what, Simon?"

"... Yes, your majesty." Simon adds, sounding defeated

"That's better. Thank you so much for your service, little one." The king calls him that knowing full well Simon is almost as tall as him, but he wants the young man to feel even smaller than he already feels.

The king just snaps his fingers and and the mirror no longer shows his face, it stops glowing, now showing only Simon's frightened expression.

The oldest of the 7 teens wishes he could scream in frustration, but the others might hear him from the camp fire... He probably should go join them... Even though he's not even sure he can look at their faces after what he just did.

He just hides the magic mirror inside his pillow case and gets up to go join the others, but just when he's about to leave the cave... He sees a huge ball of light coming in his direction at full speed.

"AAAH!"

"Oh good! You're awake!" Aster said with a huge smile.

[signed-sapphire]

I have a really important question

So, as some of you may know, I'm creating an entirely-told-through-comic story of my rewrite of Disney's Wish. My rewrite changes Asha's personality to fit with who I enjoy to see in media, edits her design to make her less generic and more representational of the culture she is from, and adds a Starboy to act as her foil and trigger her character arc (as she does to him). Asha in The Fallen Star is a spoiled, Kusco-like princess insistent on getting her wish to become the greatest sorceress granted by her adoptive father, King Magnus. She doesn't care much for the people of her kingdom and yet still expects them to obey her every command. She's rude, self-centered, and sassy.

Now, I'm 100% on Korean, which means I am not black at all. So I've been doing some research about black culture and traditions to make sure I'm accurately representing Asha, even if it is in my own silly little rewrite. A great account I recommend following is @creatingblackcharacters, as they have so many good resources for writing black characters, especially if you're not poc.

For example, I cut out a scene where some children in Rosas braided Asha's hair with flowers (a reference to Tangled) because I learned that hair is a very important thing in black culture. I didn't want Asha to protest having people she was uncomfortable with do her hair because Starboy told her to be nice. Her braids are a special thing that connects her to her birth parents, and respecting that boundary was more important than shoving a reference in for me.

Now, I recently came across another article addressing the "angry black woman" stereotype in media. A pretty famous example of this is that patronizing and racist comic panel of Serena Williams. Essentially, the stereotype is suggesting that a black woman being angry is because she's a "beast" and "can't control her emotions" instead of thinking why she could be justifiably angry.

Here's the thing. TFS!Asha gets angry. She yells. She throws things and lashes out at people. She has visible muscles and a strong build. She makes threats and hurls insults. She loses control of herself at times. She has panic attacks and is closed-off and rude after she comes out of them. She's Kusco on steroids, basically, if Kusco was fueled by not only wayyyy to much self-confidence, but fear that if he didn't guard his heart, it would get shattered.

Part of Asha's arc is her learning to move forward (not move on) from her trauma as a child, when Stars rained down and killed her parents. She puts up with more stuff and learns to temper her anger, but she's still passionate. She's still witty and sarcastic. She's just opened herself up to other people, now.

Now here's my question: do you think my Asha is the "angry black woman" stereotype?

I can't think of any examples off the top of my head where this is shown nicely in media. If you do think that Asha is a caricature, please please tell me what could be improved! I really want to make sure I'm respectful of Asha's Amazigh heritage and to actually showcase parts of that if I can.

Sorry for the long read! TLDR; my Asha gets angry, but is she the angry black woman stereotype?

@annymation @oh-shtars @uva124 @your-ne1ghbor @spectator-zee @emillyverse @chillwildwave @rascalentertainments @mythartist21 @kstararts @ishadow246 @tumblingdownthefoxden @thisnameisnotspokenfor @dangerousflowerpanda @cocoapowderpictures

[dreamsandimagination]

Disney theory: Wish (2023) as a potential prequel to Snowwhite and the seven Dwarfs (1937).

We dont see Amaya and Magnifico reconcile by the end of the movie, but I doubt Amaya would instantly drop Magnifico. What if, these two slowly reconcile post-movie, with Amaya even asking Asha to create a bigger space for Magnifico to live in. The two fall in love all over again.

But the expected happy ending is cut short when Asha refuses to free a genuinely redeemed Magnifico. Amaya begs on her knees, but neither Asha or Star is willing to grant a second chance. Amaya becomes so furious at Asha she starts to use forbidden magic to free her husband. Attempt after attempt fails. Amaya becomes more obsessed/paranoid to maintain eternal youth to remain forever at Magnificos side (since, you know, he lives in suspended animation inside a mirror). She succeeds at acchieving immortality, on the condition that she remains "fairest in all the land".

However, Amaya needs to provide an heir to continue her bloodline and expand her lands. She marries with a king to gain an heir. But on their wedding night, Amayas new husband drops dead from a heart attack thanks to a VERY jealous Magnifico.

Amaya simply remarries, much to Magnificos protests. Cue a montage of several Kings, dying in all sorts of over-the-top ways à la "Final Destination".

These evil dorks continue to play this game to rile each other up and keep their relationship exciting. A century later, Amaya has created an empire across all medieval Europe yet each day, she would ask her beloved Magnifico who the fairest in the land was.

All is well and good, till Amaya's most recent stepdaughter grows to be more beautiful than her....

[jisreal64]

Hey I have a question, is it wrong that I hate the Disney short film Once Upon a Studio and prefer Wish over it as the superior centennial celebration of Disney? I think it’s one of the shorts that Disney has ever made, not only because of the Wish hatedom and its popularity, I also despise it because it I find the premise of the film generic and stupid; it’s literally just generic Disney crossover number 1,000 and people over praise it (even though they’ve made similar crossovers like House of Mouse). The reason I think that Wish is better is because I’m one of the very few people who unironically thinks that the movie is a masterpiece, it has beautiful animation, a great soundtrack, and unforgettable characters. It’s also a rare case in which employees were protesting through their work. The movie is meant to be a metaphor for Disney itself, with the kingdom of Rosas representing Disney, Asha is meant to be someone who grew up with Disney and now works at the company as an animator as either an intern or a low ranking animator at either the main studio or PIXAR, and Magnifico is meant to be the company higher ups who went mad with power as a result of their money and greed who uses others as an excuse to make themselves more powerful (like the Onceler in the Lorax). The only other time I can think of artists biting the hand of the people who were feeding them was in the video game Super Smash Bros Ultimate, where the devs vilified both Nintendo and its fan base in the form of Galeem and Dharkhan respectively. And what’s worse is that apparently the people who were working on the movie were treating it like it was a passion project, and if you don’t believe me, here’s a Reddit post from one of the animators who worked on the movie (courtesy of @/starsha-stardust ):

This is genuinely depressing, a bunch of people work on a passion project, only for it to get viciously torn to shreds by film critics, Disney Haters, Toxic Disney Fans, and the internet. I feel like if the movie was made by a different studio than Disney then it would be universally praised (especially if it was an indie animated web series), but since the 2020s are basically the golden age of the Disney Hatedom, they’re treating it and every other movie made by Disney and PIXAR as films that are on the same level of quality as the movie Food Fight. I refuse to watch Once Upon a Studio because of these people (and in case you’re wondering, the theater I saw Wish at didn’t show the short before the movie) and I probably never will unless these people change their minds and say they’re sorry. Don’t get me wrong, if you don’t like it and have a valid reason for not liking it, then that’s fine, but if you don’t like it because it wasn’t an incestuous love story between the ghost of a recently deceased 100 year old man and his 17 year old granddaughter, then you should go seek therapy. But at the end of the day, do you think I’m being too harsh on OuaS?

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

May I offer some Lloydven angst in these trying times (for a NADS au week). Not on ao3 yet because I'll make it better one day. Cw for some Body horror stuff relating to Sarah's mutants.

A hole broke through reality, and Lloyd exclaimed as his lover fell through, his breath ragged and reeling from the pursuit. He stumbled, jumping narratives with far, far less grace that he usually leapt with, and as Lloyd rushed closer, trying to steady Raven, hold the man and whisper soft words to him, he could see exactly why.

His eyes widened in horror as he processed the sight reflected in his eyes, and Raven's fingers dug into his arm. His nails were sharp. Too sharp. And as he looked down, his own hands shook too.

"Ravey," He whispered, and his presence was acknowledged with a small, desperate whine from his lover, his nails digging ever tighter into Lloyd. Raven tried to speak, whether to explain that it hurt or to say a similar greeting to Lloyd or to simply say he loved him, Lloyd didn't know, but his mouth... Oh, Elysium, his mouth...

Raven's eyes shakily drifted to him as Lloyd cupped his love's face in his hands, trying to reposition Raven from the awkward hold, until Raven shook his head, gripping him closer, so much closer, as close as he can with arms reformed to look like broken, featherless wings.

Lloyd repeated his name, knowing it couldn't do much. What comfort could a simple word give when Raven... Raven...

His gaze turned to the woman who followed Raven into the narrative. Sarah, if she could still be called that, and the mutants that followed after her. The mutants that she'd tried to make Raven one of - Or perhaps she'd simply enjoyed his pain.

Either way, Lloyd tried to look strong as Sarah spoke, tried to push down the way his voice threatened to break, tried to quell the tears that welled in his vision as she boasted about what a pretty songbird she'd made the cawing Raven, as Raven made a gurgle of pained protest from his arms that made his heart want to shatter.

He barely got his next words out, but they were said with an angry vengeance that Sarah had never heard before. Even so, her grin didn't falter, even as Lloyd's gaze met her sadistic, slightly manic eyes.

"However, allow me to retort."

–

As Lloyd sat, his fingers tracing across the back of Raven's hand, every so often venturing up to the fingertips that he could barely look at, lest the idea of talons come to mind, before scurrying back down again to the gentle hold that assured him his lover was still there, he felt Raven's hand twitch. The grip on his hands substantiated into something more than the simple weight of gravity, and Lloyd would've wept, if he was the same man he was before venturing back to level five. He almost wept nonetheless, when Raven's eyes flitted open, and he glanced at him, giving the best smile he could with what Sarah had done, before closing them again.

“Ravey,” He muttered, and part of him wished Michael and Asha were still here. At least then there'd be more pairs of eyes, more people to think and process with

.A lot more of him wished Marjolein and Jill and Isabella…

Elysium, how was he going to tell Raven that getting tortured enough to be half-turned into one of her mutants wasn't enough to save their family?

The man tried to speak, and Lloyd really tried to listen, tried to make out vowels and consonants that his lover so desperately wanted him to hear, despite the hardened, protruding lips. He didn't want to think about how Sarah had called it a beak. How he wouldn't be able to speak, to sing, to narrate, for a long, long time.

Lloyd really tried to give him a soft smile, despite his own shaky breath, and yet, Raven simply closed his eyes again, pulling Lloyd's hand closer, shifting with hisses of pain so Lloyd had space to lie next to him, instead of on a chair at the side of the bed.

Of course he obliged. How could he not? With how desperately Raven clung to him?

He pressed a kiss to the man's forehead, and Raven dug his head into Lloyd's chest in return. His lover didn't have the energy to sob, or fight, or shout, and all Lloyd could do was run a hand across his hair, trying to avoid the spots that felt more like invasive feathers than his boyfriend's usual dreadlocks, that made Raven wince in pain.

Lloyd was one of the most able posties in the metaverse, as far as he knew. He had to be able to make this better. William had helped Asha, there had to be a way.

…Right?

[deathsweetblossoms]

Cardan’s prologue at the beginning of Queen of Nothing kicks me in the GUT with feelings every time I read it. 

Eldred turned to Lady Asha and her child, the harbinger of ill luck

she fled to the stables, abandoning him, too 

and so he grew up in the palace, cherished by no one and checked by no one 

his brothers and sisters only laughed, playing with him as they would a puppy 

For Cardan, who could not attract his father’s good notice and desperately wanted it, the prospect was tempting

Prince Cardan aught to have been suspicious of this kindness, but he’d had little enough of the real thing to tell true from false

though he protested, no one would hear Prince Cardan’s side...The High King would not even allow Cardan an audience

Care of Prince Cardan was given over to Balekin...the only one willing to take him

maybe it would be better if she dropped him, Baphen thought

looking upon Prince Cardan was like looking into an uncertain future, so (Eldred) avoided it

The fact that Eldred never once perceives Cardan as his son. He is only “Asha’s child” and “the harbinger of ill luck” and a “contribution to the Greenbriar line”.  The fact that Dain openly used Cardan’s desperate desire for any good attention from his father as a way to literally ruin his life. How none of his sisters stood up for him or agreed to take him in, and yet he still yells at Balekin in their defense many years later in TWK.  The way Cardan tried to defend himself, but nobody would listen to him.  GET BEHIND ME, LITTLE CARDAN. I WILL FIGHT EVERYONE.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Druidic Echoes

Rating: T

Content warnings: Implied/referenced past abuse/sa/grooming/bullying, Majexatli-typical thoughts of violence and blood.

The gentle breeze brought the smell of wildflowers and grass, the sun warming Majexatli’s skin as they walked through the clearing. Pausing, they looked around nervously, expecting to see something but there were only the trees and tall grass.

“Lost, are we?” 

A gentle voice in their ear, a hand suddenly on their hip making them jump, freeze. Majexatli heard a laugh, familiar, and their cheeks burned as they swatted the hand away.

“I told you not to do that, Althyran,”

“You’re cute when you get startled,”

He stepped in front of them, grabbing their chin and tilting it up before they could look away, giving Majexatli little choice to do anything other than meet his eyes. Green as the forest, flecked with gold. 

“What do you want?”

They tried to look away, crossing their arms in a way they wanted to come across as stern but they were trembling, trying to make themselves small. 

“Did you get a chance to think about what I said? The offer won’t stand forever, you know,” Althyran let go of their chin, looking off to the east, towards camp, “If you’re not interested I was thinking of Naisra,”

Naisra was older, closer to Althyran’s age, a beautiful half-elf with fair skin and long silver hair she braided with beads and flowers. Just the other week she had laughed at Majexatli as she saw them altering their new robes to allow for their tail, whispered with her friends pointing at Majexatli’s stunted horns.

“No, no, please, Althyran, I—”

They watched him grin as he turned back to look at them.

“I knew there was something I liked about you. You sound so sweet when you say my name, Asha,” His hand was back, cupping their jaw, “The moment I saw you I knew you were special, no one else could see it but I could,”

Majexatli’s back hit a tree suddenly, they weren’t sure how it happened, when they had moved, how they ended up pinned against the tree by Althyran.

“Do you mean it?”

Their voice cracked, sounding pathetic and desperate even to their own ears.

“Of course, you’ll be Faithwarden soon, no? If you’re by my side imagine how far you’ll go…”

The fondness in Althyran’s voice made Majexatli’s heart flutter, they leaned into his touch, swallowing down the fear.

Majexatli couldn’t help but imagine the future Althyran was promising—what it would be like to belong, to not wander alone while the others traveled in groups, to not hear whispers behind their back, to hear the others laughing and pointing at them.

“What would you give to not be alone? To have a place here?” Althyran had asked when he found them crying, hugging their knees, hands streaked with dirt, fresh bruises starting to form on their face. They were no older than 14.

“Anything,” Majexatli had said.

The fingers caressing their cheek brought them back to the present, to Althyran pressing close to them, looking down at them with a smile. 

They could be Faithwarden. They could be a real Druid. They could have a home. They could be loved. Althyran could make it happen.

“I don’t—“

“Shhh,” Althyran leaned down to press a kiss to their lips stealing their breath and any protest, when he pulled back he stayed close as he looked into their eyes, “I can give you everything you need, I’ll teach you everything you need to know of the natural way of things, the balance, the oak father. So tell me, do you agree, will you take this opportunity? I would hate to see you waste your potential, Asha,”

“Yes,” They nodded, “I’ll do it, whatever you want,”

Althyran looked like an angel, the afternoon sun a halo behind his head, his light brown hair almost golden in its light. His hands on their body felt like something Majexatli should be thankful for, like they should drop to their knees and thank him for his kindness, for everything he promised to do for them.

“You made the right choice, I can make you great if you do exactly what I say, just trust me,”

“I do, I trust you,”

They didn’t even realize Althyran’s hand had moved from their jaw to their throat until they tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t. Suddenly they were on the floor of a cave, blood bubbling in their throat, claws tearing deep enough in their chest to tear out their lungs and knock against their spine—

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Majexatli couldn’t help their gasp, their flinch as they opened their eyes. Their skin was drenched in sweat, heart racing, the only thing stopping them from grabbing the dagger by their side was the pain that shot through them with every breath.

Looking to the open flap of their tent, they saw Halsin crouching just outside, a faint look of concern on his face.

“Of course,” They nodded weakly, “Please, make yourself comfortable, is there something I can help you with?”

Shifting, they began to push themselves to sit up on their bedroll, only to hear a worried noise from Halsin and a quick hand on their shoulder stopping them.

“No need for formalities, don’t strain yourself,”

Ah. Majexatli let out a deep sigh before they lay back down on their bedroll. So that’s why he’s here.

“I’m not… incapacitated or some helpless ailing waif,”

They couldn’t handle it if Halsin began questioning their judgment, whether they were fit to lead. Majexatli avoided his eyes, unwilling to see the difference in how he looked at them now that he’d seen them like this.

“I never meant to imply you were,” Halsin said, with a true sincerity that almost made Majexatli wince as he settled on the furs next to their bedroll.

Majexatli hadn’t set up their tent considering anyone else would be in it, there’s was enough room for Halsin to sit by their bedroll, next to the low table covered in books and alchemical supplies, beneath the hanging bundles of herbs and flowers. Halsin wasn’t too much larger than Majexatli either, they had even been able to lend him their hide armor and have it fit him well enough. 

There was no reason for the claustrophobia that gripped at Majexatli, there was no reason for them to want to cower under his gaze, to feel like a corner animal. And yet…

“Who told you? Did they ask you to check on me?”

They couldn’t swallow the faint irritation, the bitterness slipping into their tone, the touch of betrayal. 

“I came here of my own accord, though a few of our companions did mention concerns when I stated my intentions,”

“Concerns for you or for me?”

Halsin chuckled, as though they had been joking. He was unaware of how much easier for Majexatli to picture anyone at camp warning Halsin from disturbing them than it was to imagine anyone voicing concern about them. 

Nearly everyone at camp had seen it at some point, had a dagger pressed to their throat before Majexatli could come to their senses, seen the way Majexatli would flinch and reach for a weapon. Hells, they had pressed sharp teeth to flesh, snarling and eyes wide in wildshape, mind empty for everything except the urge to bite, to fight, to protect themselves, to taste blood and flesh—Halsin should be concerned for himself, for his own safety, entering their tent unarmed.

“I know we’ve only traveled together for a few weeks but rarely have I seen you set up a tent, let alone rest in it while the others venture off. It was hard not to have some worry,”

Halsin smiled, softly, good-naturedly. Something deep inside Majexatli clawed at them, shifted restlessly. The Shadow Cursed Lands lacked living animals, lacked living people to hunt, the undead lacked blood they needed to spill. How long had it been since they worshiped properly? They felt the shadow, the echo of some desire, some hunger, for claws and teeth to dig into skin and spill blood and feel the divinity—

“I’ve never been one for tents, really. Before this, I almost always slept in wildshape and didn’t keep many belongings. Even though situations might have changed, I still prefer sleeping under the night sky,” Majexatli shrugged, swallowing a wince.

“Truly a Druid after my own heart, there’s little I enjoy more than being surrounded by nature and its gifts,” He looked around their tent, the plants, the moss, the flowers carefully cultivated with druidcraft growing through the makeshift flooring, “Even in your tent you choose to surround yourself with the beauty of nature,”

Majexatli bit their tongue before they could respond, stilled themselves, and swallowed down their reflex to recoil. He wouldn’t speak so kindly or call them a druid if he knew. Everything he stood for was something Majexatli despised, the reminder that he saw them as a fellow druid unsettling, the way he praised Silvanus and the balance brought to mind—a pale hand stroking their cheek, their bare chest, a voice that brought to mind sunshine, verdant forests, clear waters. A voice that praised the Oak Father, that spoke of the balance of nature as he pushed them to their knees, “I can make you great, Asha, if you let me—”

“Are you alright there?” Halsin’s face looked worried, his warm hand on their shoulder, “For a moment there you seemed—”

“It’s fine, I’m just tired and not well. I’ll be better tomorrow, if Silvanus wills,” The Oak Father’s name felt bitter on their tongue, “Did you need anything? I have my notes on the Shadow Curse if that’s what you’re looking for, most of my other books are with the group supplies unless Gale is reading them,”

“I only wanted to see if I could help in any way, whether that be with medicine or keeping you company. What troubles you?”

“I— it’s my hip, it gets like this sometimes. It’s nothing serious, it’s been like this for years, it doesn’t bother me too much,”

The lie was bitter and uninvited in their mouth, they had to hold back a grimace at their own words. There wasn’t even a true reason to lie, Halsin was a healer, his question mundane and professional. What did they gain by acting as though they were healthy? What had they expected? That Halsin would simply nod and leave them be? That he might pull a sympathetic face but try to politely excuse himself? 

They should have known better, as even with their lie, their attempt to wave off the excruciating pain as a simple soreness, Majexatli watched his brows furrow in a gentle worry.

“That must not be easy to bear, if you would like I could take a look. I’m no cleric, but I know my fair share of medicine and healing magics,” Halsin quickly added, “I know you are as well, I don’t mean to insult your skill, only offer to lend a hand if you need it,”

No, they almost said, I’m fine, really, don’t waste your time on me. They opened their mouth to say it, but couldn’t form the words.

Halsin must have noticed their hesitation, the tension radiating off them, because he quickly raised his hands.

“I mean no ill, if you do not wish for my presence I would not be offended for you to say so. You have helped me so selflessly, I cannot help wanting to aid you in turn, but I would never wish to make you uncomfortable,”

Selflessly. It wouldn’t be the word Majexatli would use, it was something too kind, too heroic. The praise felt empty and meaningless.

“It’s alright,” The wariness crept into their voice, despite their attempts to hide it, “If you think you might be able to help, by all means,”

They forced a calm, steady breath as they lay back and watched Halsin inch slightly closer. It took effort to not flinch, to not have their mind slip away to all those years ago, to His hands on them, to the tiny cot in the infirmary stained with their blood, to the blood soaking their shirt as they ran barefoot into the night.

Halsin’s hands hovered over their hip for a moment, his eyes flicking to theirs, waiting, giving them the option to back out, change their mind. It was a tenderness that made bile rise in the back of Majexatli’s throat.

They nodded.

His touch was cautious, gentle as he felt around their hip, pressing slightly to feel the muscles there, the bones. Majexatli winced as his fingers pressed tender points, trying and failing to breathe deeply. As he felt for their bone, Majexatli nearly jackknifed in pain, a cry escaping their lips. It only lasted a second before they felt a sudden cooling wave of magic wash over their hip, easing the pain and making their body go lax.

After a moment, they opened their eyes—they hadn’t realized they had closed them—and became aware of the way they were leaning into Halsin’s chest, hands clinging to the front of his shirt, cheeks damp with tears. They swallowed thickly, composing themselves as they let go, sat back.

“Did that ease things at all? It won’t fix anything long term, but it should at least lessen some of the pain,”

“Yes, I— yes, thank you,”

Majexatli couldn’t bear to look in Halsin’s eyes.

“You said you’ve had this issue for a while, what brought it on in the first place, if you don’t mind my asking? Perhaps if I knew what caused your injury that may help me find some way to help you,”

“It was. An… injury. When I was younger, an adolescent,”

“What sort of injury?”

Halsin’s voice was cautious, as though he didn’t wish to pry, didn’t want to force it out of them. He spoke with the same gentle cadence of the archdruid Iliris, of Selydyrn, of—

“There have been a lot of injuries I’ve had, I’m sure plenty didn’t heal properly. I’ve had to be my own doctor for the most part, I wasn’t always skilled in medicine though,”

They hardly realized the truth in their words until they saw a look of concern pass over Halsin’s face.

Shit.

“Did your circle not have healers? Surely there must have been those more experienced than you who could help,”

“We didn’t meet often. The places we did meet changed every year or so, and usually only a few stayed there year round. Most went off on their own or in small groups to spend their days among nature and the wilds,” It wasn’t a lie, carefully worded to be honest even as they hoped Halsin didn’t pay mind to their use of past tense, “So I was on my own, really, I preferred it that way, honestly,”

Majexatli wasn’t sure how true that was but it was something they were used to saying, the words from decades-old muscle memory.

“I don’t doubt that, but even in the best-case scenarios, even being alone temporarily and having no one to come to your aid when you’re injured is not an easy thing to deal with. Was no one concerned when you would return to your circle injured?”

“I’m painting them in a poor light, they’re all fine people, I was the issue. Any injury I received was no one’s fault but my own. And it wasn’t like there was anything they could do, and why would they help me after he—”

Majexatli’s ears were ringing, burning heat building in their chest. They weren’t sure if Halsin said anything, if he had asked who “he” was, said some sickeningly kind words. 

Majexatli reached down to the hem of their shirt, pulling it up and over their head roughly, ignoring the pain that shot through their shoulder. They gestured at their chest, the massive, deep scars spanning from their left shoulder to down past their right hip. Claw marks from a creature so much larger than them tearing through their chest and abdomen. The twisted skin, the strange contour of their chest, their warped ridges.

“What could they do? They weren’t clerics, and even if they were, even healing magic has its limits, why would they waste their resources on some arrogant devil? What point would there be to taking up their bed space? How were the wilds any less hospitable than the circle?”

A silence stretched out for what felt like minutes, Majexatli slowly becoming aware of tears streaming down their cheeks, blurring their vision. Eventually, Halsin’s voice broke the silence.

“I am sorry. There is nothing you could have done that made you deserving of any of that. You should not have had to survive alone,”

I did deserve it. I was a coward and I let it all happen. I should have known better, I should have been smarter. Even if I didn’t deserve it then, I do now. I should let myself die back in Baldur’s Gate, at least then it would be a tragedy.

“If that’s all, you're free to leave, don’t feel like you need to stay on my account,” Majexatli’s voice sounded distant and flat, a poor pantomime of the sage druidic voice they were all too familiar with, “If you did need anything, feel free to help yourself to my collection, herbs, books, alchemical equipment, take whatever you desire, what’s mine is yours,”

Majexatli curled up on their left side, facing away from Halsin. They waited for him to say something, ask something, take something and leave. All they heard though was the soft noises of pages turning carefully, the careful rustling of dried herbs, a gentle grinding of a mortar and pestle. They didn’t mean to fall asleep, they hardly noticed they had even fallen asleep at all until a gentle hand was placed on their shoulder and they awoke suddenly.

They were on their back, a warm fur draped over them as a blanket, something soft beneath their head serving as a pillow. Blinking slowly, they tried to orient themselves, adjust to the low light. A warm cup was pressed into their hands.

“Drink, it should help ease the pain and swelling,”

Part of Majexatli wanted to protest, to insist they were fine, but all they could bring themselves to do was nod and drink the tea without a second thought. Halsin was right, as they laid back, settling into their bedroll again, they slowly felt the deep pain in their hip ebb.

It didn’t, however, do anything for the weight in their chest, or the feeling of something tender trying to settle in their ribcage.

Majexatli prayed the feeling was only bloodlust.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Idk what this is

A chapter snippet/word blob that came out of my brain I guess idk if it’ll be in the Final Cut.

The star’s smile vanished as he looked at her with…scrutiny?! Oh she was in for it now wasn’t she? “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the slanderous wicked poor-visioned miss skeptic, come to kick a man while he’s still down. Have you?” He said in a scolding manner that Asha wasn’t quite sure was serious or joking.

“Not unprovoked,” she huffed as she crossed her arms. “And my vision is fine…you’re just salty that I completely annihilated you.”

“Salty? My dear we were on a boat in the middle of that ocean and neither sea nor person was as salty as you. The ocean Asha! THE OCEAN!” He exclaimed as a few crows cawed in surprise before taking off.

“I wasn’t salty!” She protested. It…it was true! Sure she’d been feeling…off but to say that she’d been salty was just wrong! Right?

Unfortunately for her the star didn’t seem to back down as he smiled, slowly walking towards her as he asked her slowly, “Really? So why couldn’t you take your eyes off me?”

She hadn’t realized just how close he’d gotten until he’d rested his hand on the wall next to her head. His finger patiently tapped its stone surface with a dark sharp nail. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t take her eyes off him, not when he was practically in front of her.

Tap tap.

As satisfying as it had been to silence the star, she had to admit that in hindsight it was somewhat foolish. He was a star, a being of otherworldly power and temperaments with secrets that had been the reason why the doomsday clock had started ticking once more.

Sure he was her friend, but he was also an alien! And she’d do well to remember that when it came to possibly testing his temper. “I was watching everyone. Not just you,” she lied with as much calm as she could. “Kind of have to given how we were both attacked by hooded assassins, who could literally be anywhere or anyone don’t you think?”

Tap. Tap.

Now even the crows were watching with a little less friendly anticipation than they had the first time Asha had met them.

“Fair enough,” the star shrugged as he took a step back just as Asha remembered to breathe. Whoa did he actually buy that?! “Paranoia is a usual effect of your first assassination attempt. But after the first thirty or so it’ll just feel like another Wednesday-,” he promised as Corvias landed on his shoulder once more. “Or was it Tuesday?” The surrounding crows shrugged as he scratched his head. “I don’t think I have a very good track of time. But that might just be my insanity talking.” He paused, looking at her as Corvias readjusted herself on his shoulder. “What were we talking about again?”

“Uhh,” Asha paused nervously looking from him to the crowd of children before nodding, “you agreed to help me!”

“Asha you are such a bad liar,” the star disapprovingly shook his head.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing!” She protested.

“It could be, especially if you’re not an inherently honest person either,” he huffed while crossing his arms.

She sighed. Now she could see it. Defeat and the end of her sanity, lingering on the horizon as she’d grumbled, “Don’t get mouthy with me Cepheus, I need your help with the children! This is for the children! I want them to have fun! Don’t you want to have fun?”

[qnewsau]

Hannah Gadsby drops lineup of Netflix special Gender Agenda

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/hannah-gadsby-drops-lineup-of-netflix-special-gender-agenda/

Hannah Gadsby drops lineup of Netflix special Gender Agenda

“The last time Netflix brought this many trans people together, it was for a protest. So, progress,” Hannah Gadsby jokes in their new genderqueer comedy special Gender Agenda.

The Australian comedian signed a big deal with Netflix in 2022, after publicly slamming the streaming service for its handling of celebrity transphobe Dave Chappelle.

But at the time, Hannah, who uses they/them pronouns, had a request: that Netflix create a stand-up special featuring genderqueer comics from around the world.

That project is now titled Gender Agenda, and arrives on Netflix on March 5 with Hannah hosting and a lineup of seven performers.

They are Jes Tom, Alok, Asha Ward, Chloe Petts, DeAnne Smith, Krishna Istha and Mx Dahlia Belle.

Jes Tom has written for queer favourite Our Flag Means Death and recently wrapped the Elliot Page-presented one-person stage show Less Lonely.

Alok headlined the NYC Comedy Festival in 2021, and has appeared in Cara Delevigne’s Planet Sex and Netflix’s Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness.

Asha Ward is best known for being Saturday Night Live‘s youngest-ever writer.

Chloe Petts is currently touring standup show If You Can’t Say Anything Nice.

DeAnne Smith featured in Netflix’s Comedians of the World and is a regular on the Australian comedy festival circuit.

Krishna Istha was a writer for Season 4 of Sex Education and is currently working on a trilogy of performance pieces about trans motherhood.

Mx Dahlia Belle founded the Portland Queer Comedy Festival and took on Dave Chappelle in a high-profile open letter in 2021.

Hannah Gadsby explains Netflix stand-up special

Hannah Gadsby told Variety, “There is such a wealth of brilliant genderqueer comics out there, but such a dearth of representation on the major streaming services.

“Meanwhile jokes about trans people are becoming more and more lucrative.

“So it seems only right that at least some of those jokes be told by actual trans people themselves.

“I am beyond thrilled to bring this lineup together, showcasing seven extraordinarily talented comics and to use my platform (and Netflix’s…) to hopefully help catapult them into the spotlight that they deserve.

“They (and I mean ‘they’ in every sense of the word) are some of the funniest, smartest genderqueer comedians from around the globe, and it was an utter delight and true honor to share the stage with them.”

Back home, Hannah’s new solo stand-up show Woof! tours Sydney and Melbourne in March and April.

Lots more on Hannah Gadsby:

‘Amoral algorithm cult’: Hannah Gadsby rips Netflix

Hannah Gadsby signs new deal for more Netflix specials

Hannah Gadsby talks their marriage with ‘spouse lady’ Jenney

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.