#I do agree that (relatively speaking) they had a fully realized HE for their circumstances

[teafiend]

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 26: Fraser Publishing (part 1)

Summary: Unwilling to leave her at home, Jamie takes Claire into work with him. She makes some rather unexpected friends, resulting in a conversation where Claire has to drop a bombshell.

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Chapter 26: Fraser Publishing

***

Claire was nearly buzzing with excitement the whole car ride into the city. Jamie tried to stay on task in explaining what to expect at his office, but she was so damn adorable that he just kept getting off track. All of him wanted to just tell her to be herself and damn the consequences, but his publishing company was a family business, run by his closest friends and relatives, and he couldn’t afford to have them on his back over his strange girlfriend— well, anymore than they already were. He just needed to pass Claire off as normal enough before hiding her in his office with him for a few hours. 

He knew he didn’t need to bring Claire with him; he’d just feel better if she were by his side instead of facing down God-knows-what human catastrophe by herself enough. Leaving her that past Friday had been nerve-wracking enough, even before coming home to find her terrified by the storm. After his worry over her health the night before, there was no way he could leave alone. 

She’d woken up that morning seeming like her usual self, and it brought Jamie endless relief. There had been a light in her eyes again from the moment she’d woken him with gentle kisses.  Feeling much reassured but still anxious not to leave her alone, he’d come up with a plan while holding her in his arms that morning in bed. He had decided that she would come in with him, give a few smiles and waves to his staff, and then he’d get a few hours of work done with her tucked safely in his office.

Naturally, Claire had agreed to go with him with eager enthusiasm, and she’d bounded up to get herself ready before racing to the car. 

And that was where Jamie found himself then, driving into the city with a vibrating faerie in his passenger seat. 

 “Jamie I can’t wait to meet everyone,” she said, grinning ecstatically over at him. 

Their hands were laced together over the middle console, and she gave his knuckles a brush with her thumb— back and forth. 

“Aye, lass, but maybe it’d be better if ye—”

When she looked up at him, her eyes shining with enthusiasm, he cut himself off. He’d warned her enough. She knew to be careful, he didn’t need to dim her light. 

“Ah, nothin’,” he dismissed, answering her grin with one of his own, “they’ll love ye.” 

*

The building was nothing grandiose, just a one-story office space that Jamie prided himself on being rather homey. He wanted it to reflect the comfort that books brought him instead of being some sleek, modern facility that was cold and distant, and he thought he’d done a rather fine job of it. Claire, of course, had no comments about the finer points of architecture and interior design. She simply held his hand as they walked inside the front door. 

Jamie found himself holding his breath, his whole body tenses with nerves, and it was actually Claire’s squeeze of his hand that calmed him down, rather than the other way around. 

Upon entering, they were met with the sight of Mrs. Crook, his receptionist, sitting at her desk with the phone pressed to her ear. As soon as she caught sight of them, her eyes went wide with delight and she slammed the phone down. She stood up from her desk and came around in front of it, smiling. 

“Hope that wasna an important call,” Jamie joked. 

But the sweet lady had eyes only for the lass attached to his side. 

“Hello, dear. Jamie, who is yer bonny lass?” she asked. 

Claire straightened up instantly, absorbing the praise like it fed her, and let go of Jamie’s hand to step up to Mrs. Crook. 

“I’m Claire,” she said, beaming at her. 

Mrs. Crook was a goner, for sure. 

“Oh, Claire, verra nice to meet ya, I’m Mrs. Crook,” the receptionist answered, looking absolutely tickled by her. 

“I’m so happy to meet Jamie’s friends!” Claire exclaimed. 

His faerie, bold as ever, went straight in for the hug, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Crook with enough sincerity and warmth to bulldoze a person flat. 

Mrs. Crook was a bit taken aback but nonetheless delighted to be on the receiving end of such an unexpected gesture and quickly wrapped her arms around Claire, chuckling softly. Claire squeezed the lady gently once before letting go, stepping back from her to give one more wide smile. 

“Come on, a ghraidh,” Jamie quickly broke in before Claire could delve too much further into the unexpected, “there’s lots of people to meet.” 

Jamie took Claire’s hand, and she stepped back into the safety of his side, nodding. 

“Ye’ve got a sweet one there, Jamie,” Mrs. Crook said approvingly, “come around anytime, Claire, dear!” 

Bringing Claire further into the office, Jamie walked down toward the hall, knowing exactly who he wanted her to meet next. Sure enough, his quarry found them before they could find him.  

“John!” Jamie said as the blonde man stopped in his tracks and looked up in surprise, “I wanted tae introduce ye to my girlfriend, Claire. Claire,” he turned toward his wee lass, who was looking at John with that same beaming smile she’d given Mrs. Crook, “this is my friend, John Grey. He handles the financials.” 

“Hello!” she exclaimed. 

Before Jamie could squeeze her hand or do anything to keep her settled, Claire was flying over to give John a hug. 

“Oh,” John huffed out a laugh of surprise as she embraced him, “hello.” 

To his credit, John barely skipped a beat before hugging her back. Jamie watched his lass fondly, Claire standing on her tiptoes in order to reach John properly. John shot Jamie a helpless and confused look over Claire’s shoulder, and Jamie could only smile and shake his head. 

He loved her more than anything. 

It was so strange to see her here, in this area of his life. The last few weeks with her had been magical, unreal— tucked away in their little bubble of paradise at his home. Now, here she was, in his place of work, and it was like two worlds colliding. It wasn’t unpleasant though, simply jarring. He couldn’t help imagining this being his life— Claire coming into work to visit him on lunch break, bringing everyone cookies during a long evening of work, stopping by with their children to visit….

He was getting ahead of himself. 

With a mental slap on the wrist, Jamie brought his attention back to the scene in front of him where Claire was just letting go of John. 

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” John chuckled. He looked over at Jamie, his brows drawn together, and seemed to war within himself over what to say for a second before commenting, “Jamie, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” 

Jamie smiled a bit. “It’s still rather new I suppose, but she’s a keeper for sure.” 

That got Claire’s attention, and she turned back toward Jamie, face soft with affection, and stepped to him so she could press a sweet kiss to his cheek and take his hand again.

Naturally, it was that exact moment when an all too familiar voice called out his name from behind him, the “James” dripping with disapproval. 

Feeling like he was about to face the chopping block, Jamie turned slowly around to see the whole Murray family— Ian, the weans, wee Jamie, Maggie, and Katherine, and of course, Jenny. 

“Hello, sister,” Jamie said, squeezing Claire closer to him protectively. He sent a quick prayer up to heaven that Jenny would take it easy and forgo making a scene. Claire, for her part, glued herself to Jamie’s side as if she fully intended to be a permanent fixture there. 

“Bringing yer trollop into work now, I see,” Jenny gestured toward Claire with her chin, narrowing her eyes. 

“Dinna speak of her that way,” Jamie growled. He felt the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his patience wearing thin before they’d even begun. God give him patience. 

Ever the peacemaker, Ian chose that moment to break the tension. “Hello, Jamie, good tae see ye back.” 

“Good tae see ye too, Ian,” Jamie replied, but his attention went straight back to his exasperating sister, “what brings ye and the weans in today, Jenny?” 

“I could ask ye the same, seein’ as—”

“Jes’ here for the morning, and then we’ll go out fer lunch,” Ian cut in. 

“Lovely,” Jamie remarked without any real enthusiasm, soured as he was by Jenny’s animosity toward Claire. 

“Dinna take that attitude wi’ me, James,” his sister chided. 

“I believe ye’re the one wi’ an attitude, Janet,” Jamie shot back. 

She put her hands on her hips, leveling him with her best motherly disapproval, but she refused to comment further. She must have known that he was right. 

While Jamie had been staring down his sister, he hadn’t even noticed that Claire had let go of his hand. But he suddenly realized that the wee body was gone from his side, and his heart skipped a beat. He whipped his head around to find Claire kneeling off to the side, talking in hushed tones to wee Jamie and exchanging smiles with the lad. On her right side, Maggie was already wrapping her arms around Claire’s leg fondly. 

Jenny followed his gaze to see her bairns interacting with Claire, and her irritation rose ever further. 

“Jamie, get back here,” she hissed at her son, beckoning him toward her side. 

“Mama, can we play wi’ the nice lady while Da works?” wee Jamie asked, reaching out for Claire’s hand. 

Claire, the charmer, took it with a smile, looking up toward Jenny as innocently as possible. There was no hint of smugness on Claire’s face, no pettiness that other people would have had in such a circumstance. She only looked politely to Jenny for approval. 

Maggie, only 4, was bobbing her head too. 

Jenny sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at them for a long moment. Three pairs of eyes looked up at her in longing, and Jamie’s foul mood was dissolving by the second to see his love looking so soft with his niece and nephew. 

She certainly made friends fast, that one. 

“Alright, I suppose that wouldna be the worst thing. Jes’ stay where I can see ye,” Jenny relented. 

What followed was the most distractingly adorable two hours of Jamie’s life. His office being the biggest (but mostly because he didn’t want to let Claire out of his sight), he’d invited Jenny and Claire and the children in while he and Ian got some work done. Claire had sat on the floor with the weans, playing and chatting amicably, the whole time. She had the most distinct way of interacting with them— motherly, but at the same time, she didn’t baby talk them. She simply engaged their whims, bonding over whatever silly games they were playing, making them feel like they were the most important thing in the world. 

Jamie’s heart nearly burst over the sweet picture. He couldn’t help but imagine Claire with weans of her own— their bairns. She’d make an extraordinary mother, as he saw first hand. Safe to say, he did not get hardly any work done. 

He wasn’t the only one watching the sweet scene. Jenny’s eyes were fixed on Claire the whole time, and Jamie could see the softening in his sister’s posture as she reluctantly came to the realization that the lass who she was so set against truly loved her children. At one point, Jenny even glanced over toward Jamie, catching his eye and giving him a reluctant smile. 

It wasn’t near an apology, not even close, but Jamie still treasured this first step toward a change of heart, and gave his sister a smile and a nod back. 

He thought no one could stay hardened against his faerie for long, not even his stubborn sister, and it brought him comfort to think it was likely only a matter of time before Claire won her over too. 

When the time came for the Murray family to go on their lunch date, the goodbyes were excruciating. 

“Will we see ye again soon, Claire?” wee Jamie asked, clutching Claire’s hand tightly while his mother waited for him at the door of Jamie’s office, holding Kitty in her arms. 

“I hope so,” Claire said with a smile, shooting a glance toward Jenny, “Now you’d better go, your mother’s waiting.” 

Wee Jamie launched himself at Claire, wrapping her thigh in a tight hug before bounding toward his mam. Maggie did the same, hugging Claire quickly before pulling back and saying, “bye-bye, Claire.” 

“Bye, Maggie, darling,” Claire said, giving the wee lassie’s curls a ruffle. 

Soon, the door was closing behind the Murrays, leaving Claire and Jamie alone in the privacy of his office. 

His lass turned to him with a bright smile, starting to say “they’re—”

But Jamie— finding his self control at a minimum and his amorous intentions through the roof— cut her off by pulling her against him by the waist and pressing his lips to hers. 

She melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Jamie’s neck and allowing him to kiss her breathless. 

“What was that for?” she asked, panting, when he finally pulled away. 

“Ye jes’ looked sae bonny wi’ them,” Jamie said, “I've been wantin’ tae do that for hours.” 

“Oh,” was all she could say, but looked rather pleased. 

Her lips curved up, raising the apples of her cheeks, but she downcast her eyes. She looked so beautiful that Jamie couldn’t resist reaching out and finding a curl to tuck behind her ear. 

“Listen, we’ve some time for lunch. What would ye say to a wee walk around the park nearby?” Jamie asked. 

Claire nodded, and before he knew it, they were hand in hand, strolling around the empty park. The sun had decided to peak out from the clouds, illuminating an otherwise dreary day, and Jamie couldn’t imagine a more perfect lunch break. Nor could he image spending another lunch break alone after the bliss of having her there— but that was a problem for another day. 

As they walked along quietly, enjoying the day and the company, there was something sitting heavily on the tip of his tongue. He knew in his brain that this wasn’t really the right time to broach this serious conversation, but seeing her with the bairns had done something to him, and he couldn’t seem to taper down the question rising in his chest. 

Before he could stop it, his mouth was saying, ‘Claire, can I ask ye somethin?” 

She looked up at him, face open as always, and replied, “of course, Jamie. You can always ask me anything.” 

“Ehm… well this… this is a bit o’ an odd question…” 

Claire chuckled softly, tugging on his hand. “Out with it.” 

“I was jes wonderin’ how… ehm… how the fair folk... reproduce... and— and if it’s the same as humans,” he finally forced out. 

Claire looked surprised, taken aback for a moment before a soft blush began to spread over her cheeks. 

“Oh,” she said, “well. I… I wouldn’t know about human reproduction, but I can tell you how it goes for the fair folk.” 

She went on to explain, in hushed tones, the physical act of reproduction. To Jamie’s delight, it sounded exactly like the human way of doing things. By the end of Claire’s overview, the tips of both of their ears were flushed pink. 

A variety of feelings all swirled around inside Jamie. Foremost was elation bubbling up inside his chest, happiness as the thought of a future with her, a marriage like he could have with any lass. Accompanying that was desire. He couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities now that he knew sex was, in fact, on the table. Relief went hand in hand, and he nearly laughed at himself over how comforted he was that the secret fear— the fear that he’d never be able to be intimate with her in that way— was no longer an issue. 

As soon as he’d explained that everything she said went the same for humans, he couldn’t help the rush of words bursting out of him, “ye see, I’d been wonderin’ that for a while, but I didna want tae overwhelm ye. Sorry if the question was a bit sudden. It was jes’ seein’ ye wi’ my sister’s bairns, thinkin’ about how great a mother ye’d be... I jes’ had to ken if there was a possibility of that for us. In the future, of course, I dinna mean any time soon. But now that I know there is that possibility, Claire, ye’ve made me sae happy. I dinna want to get ahead of myself, but it’s always been a dream of mine to have bairns, and knowin—”

Jamie— caught up in his ramblings as he was— didn’t notice Claire until that moment. Her face had fallen and body tensed, her whole posture screaming that something was wrong. Jamie’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, and the words died in his throat. 

“Claire? What’s wrong, a ghraidh?” 

She bit her lip, looking away from him. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. Something was really wrong, and it sent Jamie’s nerves on edge. 

He stopped walking, pulling Claire to a stop by her hand. She still wouldn’t look at him, so he gently took her face in his hand and tilted it upward. 

“Claire?” he prompted, his voice sticking in his throat, “tell me, lass.” 

She was quiet for a long time before she finally spoke. 

“I don’t think— I mean...” she fumbled quietly, avoiding his eyes, “I… I’ve thought a lot about it. I’ve dreamt of us having babies too, Jamie. But I—” tears beaded in her eyes, and she finally fixed her gaze on him for the first time, “I don’t think we can. I don’t think we’re physiologically compatible enough. We’d be able to be intimate, but… nothing would come of it.” 

The tears in her eyes finally broke free, two perfect lines trailing down her cheek in sync. 

“I know it’s your dream...” she continued, tightness in her distraught voice, “I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Jamie.” 

“Oh, Claire,” the words tore from his chest like air from a punctured balloon. 

Feeling just as deflated, he drew her into a tight hug, pulling her body against his and squeezing tightly. She went willing, pressing her teary face into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her back, he could feel her chest shaking with the force of containing her sobs. 

“Claire, mo ghraidh,” he said gently into her hair, “I have no life but you. Dinna cry, a leannan, dinna cry. There are other ways fer us to have bairns, even if they arena our own. And that way I wouldna have tae watch ye suffer.” 

She looked up at him then, blinking, looking confused. “I can bear pain myself,” he expanded, “but I couldna bear yours. It would take more strength than I have.” 

A tear rolled down her cheek, and he brought his hand up to cup her face and swipe it away with his thumb. Her eyes were swimming with disappointment and guilt in a way that tore at Jamie’s insides. 

“I love ye, Claire. I wouldna trade bein’ wi’ ye for the world. Even if it means that our bairns canna be our own flesh and blood.” 

Tear drops were beaded on her eyelashes, and she blinked them away. He couldn’t help but think how heartbreakingly beautiful she looked at that moment. 

“You… you won’t regret that I’m different… that I can’t give you your dream?” she asked. 

“No, no, Claire,” he said firmly, pulling her back into his tight embrace with the same force his words held, “I’ve told ye before, I will never regret who ye are, because I love you. More than anything. Do ye hear me, lass?” 

She nodded against his shoulder, her hands stroking up his back. 

Jamie drew away enough so that he could take hold of her chin with his thumb and forefingers. Her skin was soft under his fingertips, still damp. He brushed his fingers back and forth, trying to dry it. 

“Please, darling, no more tears. I canna stand to see ye weep.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry for bringin’ this up now.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jamie. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have told you sooner,” she choked out, a fresh wave of tears rolling from her cheeks and dripping onto his hand. 

“Nah, nah, lass,” he wiped them away untiringly, “please, dinna apologize.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I love you, Claire.” 

She let out a breathy sound and a gasp that was almost a laugh, and then smiled with watery eyes. “I love you, Jamie.” 

He took her in his arms then, holding her close, feeling like she— or he— might fly to pieces the moment he let go. Life in the park went on around them, birds singing and wind rustling through the greenery, but Jamie only had attention for Claire. The rending in his own chest would wait. All that mattered was her. 

She was enough. She would always be enough. And he would spend every day for the rest of her life making sure she knew that. 

***

Next

[heroloverangel]

Relative

Families sure are complicated, aren’t they.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this nervous. You’re a hero, what are you even worried about? The week before you learned you were pregnant, you took down six villains armed with more guns than brains without breaking a sweat. Meeting your illegitimate child’s sibling shouldn’t be this stressful compared to your regular job!

You already know things won’t go well when Endeavor says he’ll be telling his other children about their baby sister, and you can understand their feelings. Poor Fuyumi is heartbroken at this final act of betrayal from her father and can’t bring herself to face you. Natsuo is furious and chooses to cut the few ties he still has to Enji. Shoto just stares at the older man in silent disappointment, never saying a word about the issue. You hear about all of this later, the next time he visits your daughter. You two don’t talk about it much but he never shows any anger towards their reactions, just a quiet acceptance that he’s failed them yet again. 

It’s been almost three months since he dropped that bomb on them. You don’t expect any of them to be interested in Hikari, and you can’t blame them for wanting nothing to do with her. It’s a surprise to you one day when he mentions that Shoto’s asked about her and is willing to meet your daughter. You agree, cautiously optimistic that she could have some relationship with the rest of her family.

The day arrives, and you’re far too anxious for what should be a simple introduction. You clean your apartment top to bottom until it’s spotless; you can’t remember the last time your living room looked this good. Hikari fusses over the bath you give her, and even more as you change your mind again and again on her clothes before you finally settle on an adorable yellow dress decorated with a bright orange sun. You’re not as worried about your own outfit; if you wanted to make a good impression you probably shouldn’t have had an affair. You double check that everything is in order and sit down to read Hikari one of her picture books while you wait for your guests.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but be nice.” You hear the familiar deep voice through the door before he can knock. You swallow and force yourself to take a deep breath, hoisting your daughter onto your hip and going to greet them.

“Hi!” Your voice is a little too loud and shrill, betraying your nerves. You clear your throat and try again. “Hi. Come in, please.” You get your first good look at Hikari’s older brother and your stomach twists into a knot at the huge scar across his face. You don’t know the full details about what happened, it was never your place to ask, but you’ve pieced together that Enji was at least partially responsible for the injury. You’re not afraid that he might repeat whatever he did, but the idea still makes you feel sick.

Your little girl doesn’t notice the awkward silence in the room, only that her father is here and she’d rather be in his arms now. He takes her from you, and you wonder if the small smile he gives her makes any of this better or worse for the boy next to him. “So, you must be Shoto,” you say, introducing yourself as he shakes you hand without a word. “I, um, I really appreciate that you came. She’s still so young, but it’d be nice if Hikari can get to know any of you.”

His expression remains blank. “Do you really expect Endeavor to be a good father?” The kid doesn’t mince words and you have to admit, you can respect that.

You’re caught off guard and stammer your way through a response. “Well...I mean, we obviously...I wasn’t--” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “He’s trying, you know? I understand that he did a lot of things wrong with you guys, and I don’t know everything about that.” The man in question is still standing in front of you, and you meet his eyes for a moment. “But our situation is different, and I’m willing to give him the chance to be there for her. It’s been going okay so far.”

Shoto only gives you a half-hearted shrug, clearly not convinced with your assessment. Hikari, on the other hand, has finally become aware of this new person in her home and stares at him with interest. When he looks back, you can see the wheels in his head turning as he recognizes their matching blue eyes and fully realizes that the two of them are inescapably connected. “This is my sister,” he says, more to himself than you.

“You can hold her, if you want,” you suggest, prodding Endeavor to offer the baby to him. Shoto seems almost confused as he reaches out for her, grabbing the infant by her sides and keeping her at arm’s length. The two stare at each other with near-identical expressions, both seeming baffled by their sibling. Then finally, her tiny arms reach out to him and a toothless grin spreads across her face. You gasp and grab onto Enji’s arm automatically. “Look, she smiled! Oh my god, she’s never done that before!”

“Is that normal?” 

“It’s better than normal,” you insist, all your awkward feelings vanishing in the excitement. You adjust his arms so he can cradle her properly, and he lets you reposition him without question. “Babies don’t know how to smile, not really. It’s kind of just an instinct at first, and it takes a couple months for them to figure out what it actually means.” She’s still beaming up at him, her little feet kicking out energetically as she babbles a few happy noises. “I think she’s happy to meet you.”

Shoto watches her silently, clearly unsure of how to feel about this new development. “She’s happy?” You nod, watching intently as the two of them get to know each other. He’s surprisingly comfortable with her for someone who’s never spent much time around babies before. You manage to keep things pleasant while you tell him about her life, when she was born and what her personality seems like so far.

Of course, it isn’t an entirely cheerful conversation. He has some pretty reasonable questions about exactly how his father ended up with another child, and you do your best to explain yourself. You may feel guilty about what you’ve done, but you love Hikari more than you ever imagined and you could never regret the path that’s led you to your daughter. He doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with your answer, but his baby sister coos at him and he focuses on her instead. Really, this little meeting has gone remarkably well considering the circumstances. Endeavor’s been unexpectedly quiet for the most part as he’s observed his children, which is honestly more of a blessing than anything.

They don’t stay much longer before the agency calls with a request for support and they’re obligated to head back. Hikari’s fallen asleep in her brother’s arms, she lets out a little whine but doesn’t wake up when you take her from him. You walk them to your door and thank them for coming, speaking quietly to avoid waking the baby.

Shoto takes a long look at her before he leaves. “I’d like to see her again.”

“She’d like that too,” you agree. “Let me know when you want to come over again.” You close the door behind them, and immediately the baby stirs and starts wailing. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure Big Brother will come back and visit you soon.”

[the-sunshine-dims]

amnesia rewrite! (chapter 3)

it took a bit but here's chapter 3!

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7

original fic

words: 3,457

ao3

contents and warnings: angst (past and present), hurt/comfort, amnesia,  mentally a child!janus, patton has too much guilt to be healthy, flower crowns, food mention,

________

Roman slowly approached the open inviting door of Patton's room, which considering the circumstances that he was there for, didn't seem that inviting. After a moment or so he knocked on the wall to warn Patton he was there.

And Patton, who had been on the floor possibly scrapbooking, definitely making a mess, turned around quickly at the noise before he smiled at him

“Hey Ro!” He greeted with a grin, waving roman over to him.

Roman offered him a small, slightly strained smile in return  “hey Padre,” he greeted in return before going “pat you might wanna sit down because something... kind of happened.”

Pattons happy smile shifted into a concerned one as he started talking again “okay I’m already sitting, but what happened?” 

Roman nervously rubbed his neck, while he had volunteered to go tell Patton the night earlier he had not accounted for how awkward it would be to tell people something he didn’t fully know about, actually he was pretty sure he would still feel awkward even if he knew every single detail. “okay, so, apparently Janus.. went into the imagination, and something happened, we- logan and me, think he got attacked or hit his head or something, and umm well logan kind of confirmed he has amnesia..” he chewed the inside of his lip nervously, a bad habit he had picked up from Virgil a long while back.

Patton opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to process that and trying to find the right words before simply going “is he okay?”

Roman nodded “yeah, well he’s the best he can be. When I left, him and Logan were competing on who could complete a rubix cube the fastest, I’m pretty sure Logan was even letting him win,” he smiled to himself, and Patton couldn't help the small smile at that mental image either “it's kind of adorable actually.” Roman trailed off, eventually he remembered that there’s still one, very important last thing he should tell Patton “okay also, specs said Janus is mentally a child of some verity, we still don’t know exactly how mentally old he is but we know he doesn’t remember king splitting and anything more recent than that.”

Patton made a sympathetic noise “poor thing…” he trailed off, it would be bad enough if Janus had to deal with amnesia but Janus in the mindset of a child.. children shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of amnesia or loss (especially twice in the loss subject.) 

Roman nodded crestfallen as the image of Janus sobbing into his chest burned itself into his memory “yeah..” he agreed, Roman may have been kind of upset at Janus for the POF disaster but.. he didn’t deserve anything that happened in the last 24 hours.

After a bit it was clear Patton wasn’t going back to his scrapbooking so Roman sat down on the floor with him, doing what he and Logan did with Janus and just not leaving him alone after unleashing a bunch of stuff he had to process.

After another long stretch of silence Patton looked over to Roman “hey, ro.. do you think I’d be able check up on him?” He asked, he wanted Janus to know he cared enough to go and see him when something bad happened.

Roman hummed “probably, I mean it’s not really my decision but I’m sure he’d be happy to see you from what Logan told me, so yeah we can go see!” He told him before continuing “oh also if he wants to hang out or is just fine with hanging out you can go to bring him somewhere else if you want, because i’m pretty it'll be kinda boring otherwise.”

Patton smiled fondly, and with a nod he got up and helped Roman up with him, and after a moment of just standing there Roman realized Patton didn’t know where Janus even was because he accidentally excluded that information, even when it would make sense to share it, the closest thing he said to a location was that logan knew about Janus as well, and that was why he was awkwardly standing around so he just took Patton's hand in his own and pulled them into the hallway and headed to logan's room.

Once they had passed the kitchen Patton paused though, stopping them both dead in their tracks, before simply asking “have you guys eaten yet?” 

Roman laughed awkwardly and nervously rubbed his neck again, trying his best to avoid eye contact,

That was enough of an answer for Patton so he just sighed fondly before popping into the kitchen and beginning to cook food for everyone, once he was done he made sure to leave an extra two plates in the fridge, though it would be a wonder if Remus actually ended up eating his and didn’t just use it for an ‘art project.’

_____

Janus looked up from where he was sitting on the floor watching tv almost the very second the door opened, Expecting Roman since he disappeared a bit before, so the moment he did catch a glance he gave the smallest, happy little smile as he began waving, and received a wave from Roman in return,

Morality entering right behind Roman was a surprise though.

He offered another wave, because he liked Morality, He was nice, Morality once gave him one of his stuffies when Janus was sick, so he liked him.

After a moment Janus just settled back into his spot as Patton came over to him and handed him breakfast, Janus offered him a brief thankful smile to be polite because that's what Thomas's parents said to do before beginning to turn his attention back to the tv.

Patton was happy Janus seemed relatively content but he didn’t know how to ask to hang out with him, if he ever had a plan he had forgotten it the second he stepped into the room.

After a couple awkward moments he just took a breath and settled down before turning his attention to Janus and asking “hey would I be able to hang out with you for a little bit?” 

Janus turned to him and nodded, simply going “‘Kay” and continuing to do as he did prior, now just with the acknowledgment of Patton's presence, Patton couldn't help but smile as he settled fully onto the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce against the bedside, passively waiting for Janus to be done with his food and initiate a conversation, Patton knew sometimes there were days where people were less talkative so he didn’t wanna force him to talk if he wasn’t in the mood. 

After a while passed and everyone had eaten, Janus did end up speaking up, asking simply “how are you?” 

Patton smiled at him “I’m doing fine kiddo, how are you?” He asked in response, honestly he wasn’t the finest. He was nervous and still feeling guilty from everything that went down because of the wedding and the fact he had treated Janus so badly, hell he’d treated Remus badly too! He had been so mean to everyone.

Janus hummed in thought before simply going “‘m fine too,” which was only partially a lie, and he had a very tiring day the day before so he got to lie about how mentally drained he was, and hey he was fine for the most part, Roman and logic were being very nice and he had been able to just hang out watching tv while Logic worked and he liked doing that, it was some much needed calm,

Patton offered another smile as he tried thinking of what to say; after another awkward silence he decided To just warmly go “hey kiddo would you want to go explore? And if so do you have any specific places you wanna hang out at?”

Janus pinched his chin in a very exaggerated thinking pose that would make logan proud before just going “sure! and i don’t really mind anywhere really! Well- as long as there aren't horses there, they’re mean,” he told him, before continuing “they hate me and I hate them, it’s a mutually understood hatred.”

Patton didn’t have Time to unpack all of that so he just chuckled and nodded like he understood and didn’t have a million questions on why Janus hated every Horse in existence and just how they all hated him back- so instead of thinking about that he took a moment to think on where he should go with janus, not really knowing where janus would genuinely want to go, before remembering a certain interest Janus used to have that Patton distinctly remembered king showing off whenever he could, so after not much of a second thought he just smiled and asked “would you wanna hang out with me in Roman’s meadow? It’s really pretty there and hey we could even make flower crowns-“ 

The moment the words left his mouth Janus practically had stars in his eyes, he looked like a steven universe character as he excitedly gasped before nodding vigorously “yes please!” He chirped excitedly.

Patton once again smiled, and contained a soft chuckle at how happy Janus looked, he looked like when you tell a child ‘actually yeah why don't you pick out a candy’ when going to the store, he looked.. childish, and Patton thinks that’s good, if he’s in the mindset of younger Janus, Patton doesn’t think it would be good if Janus started acting like normal Janus right now.

After a bit of Janus just being excited it finally crossed his mind that the reason Patton’s not getting up to go is because he’s waiting for him to say he’s ready, so he bounces up and after a short confused look that’s quickly replaced with a smile Janus helps Patton up to the best of his ability and then it’s Janus’s turn to wait because he doesn’t know where anything is, he doesn't  even know how he got to Logan's room, all he remembers is crying a bit and then waking up under a soft blanket on Logan’s bed.

Luckily for Janus, Patton took no time to shoot a wave to Roman and Logan before going “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry I’ll keep him safe” and then presenting his hand for Janus and once their hands are linked Patton headed to the nearest imagination entrance.

_____

The moment Janus could see the archway with the absolutely beautiful meadow covered with all kinds of wildflowers and overgrown green grass just beyond it he ran out into it without a moment's hesitation.

Patton followed him with a smile playing on his lip, and a chuckle following in suit as Janus twirled himself around into a soft patch of grass and promptly fell face first into the blanketed earth, after a moment Janus just smiled hugely and began happily laughing as he turned over so he could face the sky. 

(And Patton tried his best to not think about how he had kind of outcasted this side, this side who with just the mention of flowers or flower crowns was almost bouncing with excitement, this side who viewed him as a friend, this side who really did want the best for Thomas. And instead he tried to focus on the fact he was trying to repair it, and the fact that Janus was practically elated as he began his best attempt at rolling around in the grass and flowers, which counted for something, at least it meant he chose a good place to hang out with Janus,) so he just smiled and sat down next to Janus, 

And after a moment he picked a small yellow flower and offered it to Janus, cuasing Janus to beam at him as he took it before he began picking others around him and weaving them into a crown with it.

And After a moment Patton just slowly went “I have to admit, I have no idea how to make flower crowns,”

Janus looked over at him with a reassuring smile before he replied “that’s okay, don’t worry! That just means I can teach you!” he said as he grabbed more flowers and started a new crown and while making sure Patton was paying attention, weaving them together slowly to see if that was all Patton needed to learn or if he needed actual instructions like he did when creativity was trying to teach him to crochet.

Patton tried his hand at it after he grabbed a handful of flowers and slowly tried to replicate what Janus did, and after a bit and some trial and error he was successful, Which caused both Janus and Patton to cheer because he Did it!

“You did it!! You did super super well too!” Janus congratulated him excitedly, and he decided he liked teaching, he felt super proud, he understood now why Logic liked it so much now (despite not really actually teaching.)

“Thanks!” Patton grinned, and after a minute they both started doing their own things, Patton trying to make another flower crown to get the gist of it down to memory, and Janus.. Doing something, he wasn't entirely sure what.

Though soon the peaceful happy mood shifted for Patton, it wasn't that anything really happened, actually it might've been because nothing happened, because it was quiet enough to allow Patton to begin thinking, and normally thinking was a good thing, but recently every time he began thinking all he could think about was how wrong he'd been and how much he'd failed- so the more time went on the more sorrowful he became and the more the small smile that had been left from the little mini celebration dwindled.

After awhile of the two just sitting in silence the thoughts got louder and louder, them all just echoing in his head until they got loud enough to voice themselves, much to the chagrin of Patton, who would prefer having a choice of whether his insecurities and regrets got out, and if they did get out he would prefer to tell them to someone who hasn't literally just been through a traumatic experience, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry I misjudged you and was mean- I’m so sorry I was so awful to you- I’m so so sorry” he practically word-vomited. the words coming out a mile a minute, and because of that he was able to make it become more mumbly a little after the second ‘sorry’, which was lucky for him as he wanted it to be as inaudible as possible so Janus didn't have to actually understand his little guilt-ridden ramble, which didn't work completely but he tried, because he didn’t want to let his guilt get in the way of hanging out with Janus, Janus quite honestly should not have to deal with that at the moment, he should get to have a happy fun day, since he was already dealing with so much, if he did even tell him he wanted to tell him after his memory returned.

Janus was silent for a couple moments, quite honestly he was so confused, he didn’t know what Patton meant and even if he did it was so abrupt it left Janus quite literally stunned, but after an uncomfortably silent minute or so he tried to defend Patton “I don’t know what your talking about.. but I’m sure you weren’t mean! And if you were you probably had a good reason for it, I know you! You wouldn’t be mean if you didn’t have a good reason!” He told him insistently. 

Patton.. really wished that were true, he had a good reason on paper but in reality not so much, he wanted to keep Thomas safe, and somehow his view of Janus had changed throughout the years to view him as a danger, despite him knowing Janus, well he didn’t know his name till recently but he knew Janus. but regardless of that somehow he started thinking Janus was evil, and then he had mistreated him, not hearing him out even when Janus was probably the expert on the situation. “dee.. I know you don’t remember it but I really was super super mean! and I misjudged you and I most definitely ended up hurting you and you didn’t deserve any of it! and I’m so sorry I’m just.. so so sor-“ Patton was cut off abruptly as Janus hugged him, 

“You probably had your reasons,” he said once again, much more insistent, and patton couldn't help but wonder, had Janus always seen the best in people? And when did he stop? “-and whatever they were I’ll probably forgive you for them! I mean I honestly don’t remember what you're talking about so it might be... a bit before I fully forgive you when I got all the memories and stuff back but-  no matter what,” he pulled out of the hug just to be able to look into Morality’s eyes, trying to look stern, which for once, didn't really work. “you deserve a second chance.” He told him firmly, and after another moment he continued “and I’m certain we’ll be friends! I promise I’ll stand by you when I’m all memory-y again, promise!” He grinned and plopped his now suddenly and magically finished flower crown onto Morality’s head.

Patton smiled sadly at him, “okay, and.. Thank you,” he said, leaving what he was thanking him for blank, and honestly he was still feeling extremely guilty because despite everything and Janus not really knowing what he meant he still comforted him to the best of his abilities, and really how could he think Janus was evil, how could he, roman and Logan dismiss him so easily? never inviting him to the table, and pretty much just ignoring his existence to Thomas. later when everything was normaller Patton needed to have a sit down discussion with Janus and Remus because he needed to make sure they were starting to be listened too, and that they knew they would be, however though currently he needed to focus on Janus, because Patton brought him here to have a good day and while he thinks since it's been maybe a bit more than a hour, and eventually it'll get boring, he still wants him to have a good day.

So he adjusted the flower crown to be more comfortable on his head before he slipped right into his happy façade which luckily Janus, who was trying to make a little cave out of the tall overgrown grass, didn't seem to question “so kiddo! After maybe a half hour more out here would you wanna go inside and watch a show or movie? I can make popcorn!” (-and now that Patton was paying attention did Janus look that young before?)

Janus perked up like a sunflower and nodded “mhmm! sure! What would you wanna watch?”

Patton Smiled “I don't really care, i'll be fine with whatever you wanna watch kiddo,”

Janus seemed to think about it before going “can we watch kiki’s delivery service..? Oh! And can we have skittles too?”

Patton smiled once again. “of course! When we get inside I’ll set it all up!” 

Janus’s eyes lit up brightly before he murmured an excited thank you and tried to hurry and begin distracting himself so he wouldn’t feel like he was waiting and time would pass quicker and a minute wouldn't feel like an hour also he needed to focus on making that last crown anyway since he had already made one for Logic and he needed to make one for Roman.

_____

A couple hours later Logan and Roman got curious as to where the two went and discovered Patton and Janus dead asleep, Janus pretty much curled up into a ball against Patton's side, Janus’s normally small form somehow slightly smaller, as Patton's arm snaked around his side almost protectively, with the Tv asleep from no use, Logan and Roman just shared a soft fond look before silently agreeing to not wake them and summoning a blanket for the two before leaving. Logan and Roman could see something had changed, they could see the tension eased from Patton's shoulders ever so slightly, not gone for sure but he was clearly content and that was breathing room, because while Patton had always left the door to his room open as an invitation to anyone and everyone that they could come in and that had persisted, Patton had still been coming out of his room less and less, and aside from that there was other things that just made it clear something was wrong, but Patton and Janus were content, right there, taking a nap, and for now that's all they needed to know. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Book 6 was beyond complicated to write due to some artistic choices I made lmao but again I do hope you guys like it even if I don’t feel it was perfect bc I enjoyed how most of it turned out -Danny

Words: 4,005

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘The Black and White’ -by The Band CAMINO.

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Prophecy.

Harry walked back to his chair and sat down heavily.

"Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well — not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. I considered it almost a miracle when Emily agreed to move in next door so she could keep an eye on you..."

Even though Lord Voldemort perished that night in Godric's Hollow, his followers continue to hunt down answers for months, neither Harry nor Mel would've been safe in the wizarding world.

"You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died —and your father too, Mel— to save you. They gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood, Harry. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn't love me. She doesn't give a damn —"

"But she took you. She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you. And as for you, Mel, you were just a baby, therefore Voldemort's followers couldn't tell if you were as skilled as your dad. It was only until last year when Voldemort realized you were hiding great power."

"I still don't —"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, Harry, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"My mother isn't a Dumbledore," Mel frowned. "If that's what kept Harry safe, living with his aunt, then why did I only meet you after I turned eleven?"

"You were a direct descendant from my brother and not me, you weren't in danger as much as Harry. Once I found out about your outbursts I talked to him, I knew you'd need his protection... I'm afraid his guilt stopped him. I've been taking his place, having you come into my office for a weekly lesson as a way to make sure you would be both, protected, while also learning to defend yourself."

Harry came into a new realization.

"You sent that Howler. You told my aunt to remember — it was your voice —"

"I thought that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son." 

"It did. Well — my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she — she said I had to stay. But what's this got to do with..."

"Five years ago, then, you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well."

The memory of that small boy came to her. He didn't look much different from the Harry sitting beside her, except perhaps, for the way his gaze had darkened. 

He'd always known Harry and Mel would eventually be hunted, and he'd made sure they'd be ready. Dumbledore had a plan from the moment they set a foot in the castle. She wondered exactly how much of everything happened accidentally, and how much had been planned.

"I don't understand what you're saying." 

"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby? Ought I to have told you then? You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age, just like I refused to tell Mel about the rumours surrounding our family."

'The knowledge would be too much at such a young age'. Now, after four years, Mel felt weaker than when she was eleven. Somehow thinner, and far more fragile.

"Do you see? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"I don't —"

"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

Mel visibly deflated, a new wave of hurt crashing against her heart.

"So it's true, then?" She asked. "Caring only makes us weak?" 

"My dear, I defy anyone who has watched you as I have —and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined — not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a pair of young souls on my hands..."

Mel had held something similar whenever she would reach out to kiss Harry, and nothing else in the world mattered when they were alone together... but after the third task, they were always so alone.

"...You came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself... you, Mel, gave away part of your own life, selflessly risking your own well-being just for the frail chance to see Harry again, and I did not tell you, because to tell you after having almost lost each other in such a way would've been beyond cruel, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. 

And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another — the greatest one of all."

"...I still don't understand," Harry responded, though now his voice was a bit more quiet and fearful.

Dumbledore admitted what they already knew: Voldemort tried to kill him because of the prophecy, and he'd tried to stop it before it could be fulfilled. Now, years after and once again in a proper body, Voldemort set his mind on hearing the whole thing, looking for a way to end it.

The sun was fully out now, and as he finished, Mel felt the first glimmer of hope peering through.

"Mel broke the prophecy," Harry said quietly. "She crushed it against the ground..."

She closed her injured hand tightly without caring about the sharp pain that shot up to her elbow. 

"I knew we could get rid of it."

"How?" Harry frowned. "How could you know?"

"Because that orb was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly," Dumbledore explained, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Who heard it?" asked Harry, though he already knew the answer.

"I did. On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."

As Dumbledore stood up to retrieve something from a cabinet, Mel continued her story.

"That was the reason why my uncle knew what Voldemort was looking for," She swallowed harshly. "As soon as that thing broke I recognized the figure. How could I not? We've been seeing her for three years..."

Dumbledore came back holding the Pensieve, he put the tip of his wan on one temple and pulled, Mel stood up abruptly. 

"Maybe I shouldn't be here to hear it."

"You've earned your place in this conversation," Dumbledore replied. "Your life is linked to Harry's, is only fair for you to hear it too... that way you'll be able to make an informed decision."

"Only if he agrees." 

She was used to Harry keeping her at a proper distance from his doings, nevertheless, Harry grabbed her wrist.

"Sit down... please."

Before she could reply a figure rose from the Pensieve, there stood a small version of Sibyll Trelawney with a voice Mel had only imagined thanks to Harry's tales from two years ago:

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES..."

Professor Trelawney vanished slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said after a moment. "It... did that mean... What did that mean?" 

"It meant... that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

"It means — me?"

Dumbledore eyed both teenagers carefully before speaking.

"The odd thing is, Harry, that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to three babies, one of them being Mel."

"What?" 

"I thought it was meant to be Matthew's baby," He sighed, "an Auror and a Dumbledore... but alas, you were born at the start of the month — and you were a girl. There were still two more babies in line. Both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"But then... but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"

"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child. It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."

"Then — it might not be me?"

"I am afraid that there is no doubt that it is you." 

"But you said — Neville was born at the end of July too — and his mum and dad —"

"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort... Voldemort himself would 'mark him as his equal.' And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse."

"But he might have chosen wrong! He might have marked the wrong person!"

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. And notice this, Harry. He chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far — something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved."

In her mind, an alternate life started to take form: Mel as the orphan, Harry's parents alive and well, it was her the one facing death every time... 

Then poor scarred Neville, while Mel and Harry lived surrounded by their families, perhaps even together. The fact that the only reason why Harry was the chosen one was a matter of gender and dates... 

"Why did he do it, then? Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then — or even Mel... She's a Dumbledore — She's the strongest!"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course, except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So he only heard..?"

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you — again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. And once Mel was born at the start of July as a girl, and you a boy, this only narrowed it down to his apparent advantage. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not' —"

"But I don't! I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or — or kill them —"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore replied carefully, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. 

That power is what has aided Mel to know if you're in danger and allowed her to help, that power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you. So you see, Mel," He added, "caring it's never useless."

"The end of the prophecy... it was something about... 'neither can live...' "

"'... while the other survives,' " Dumbledore concluded.

"So... so does that mean that... that one of us has got to kill the other one... in the end?"

"Yes."

They stayed silent for the longest time, Mel found her voice at the same time as her courage.

"Okay," She spoke. "We just have to make sure you're the one that lives."

Dumbledore's face hinted at a smile, but it did not form fully. Harry stared at her like the thought of surviving was next to impossible.

"I feel I owe you two other explanations," said Dumbledore carefully. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as prefects? I must confess that I rather thought both of you had enough responsibility to be going on with..."

Mel let out a dry chuckle, Harry just sighed. 

"The second and final... is about the decision you ought to take."

"What decision?"

"Your lifeline," He started, "I've been reading about it since the third task... It's called Unio Azoth — A universal cure for any kind of injury, you heal with life itself, and it's always effective. However, not many people dare use it because it demands great sacrifice from both sides of the connection. It's created through highly complex magic, or it can happen, as it was your case, after multiple shared near-death experiences," He paused. "It can also be removed."

There was a split second in which the students didn't know how to react. 

"You're saying," Mel started. "We've been hurting each other for a whole year — and you hid this from us?"

"You were on bad terms after the tournament, the removal can only happen if both sides consent, and you were holding onto it tightly, Mel."

"Is it dark magic?" Harry asked abruptly. "Our connection?"

Dumbledore took another long look at him.

"I believe that what you're trying to ask is if it's damaging for any of you," He replied. "Which is something that depends on the circumstances. There have been moments your connection has improved your lives, but it's also damaged you physically to a great extent. You're asking a question only you can answer, Harry."

"This could've fixed everything between us," Mel felt her anger increasing. "And you just let us argue instead? Why?"

"It was your impulsive actions that kept me from speaking, I couldn't risk one of you trying to cut it without the other knowing, it would've resulted in tragedy."

"We would've acted differently if only we’d known! The reason why we fought was because of how guilty Harry felt about putting me through extra pain — We could've just cut the damn thing — You thought I would've just decided to abandon him?"

"Isn't that what you were attempting this year?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

"Harry and I couldn't stop fighting, I was tired — I had to keep my distance," Mel stood up. "He spent a whole year drowning in guilt thinking we couldn't change things —"

"When I found out it could be removed," Dumbledore's voice came out just as firm as hers. "You were already far too traumatized. Losing this would've felt like losing a limb. You weren't ready to make a choice then, but I can't keep you in the dark any longer, you have the whole picture now, so you can make an informed decision, but I must ask you to think —"

"I don't need to think it over," Mel said, but Harry spoke at the same time.

"I want to keep it."

"What?" She looked at him in disbelief.

Harry stared at her. 

"It's thanks to this that I knew you were having panic attacks, you've saved my life many times now, I owe you — and it doesn't have to hurt, you can control it, I just need to learn how to do it too!"

"You've been nagging me about how much of a burden this was and suddenly you cling to it as if it were a blessing?" She narrowed her eyes.

"It's just..." His jaw tensed. "It works both ways — if I give it up and Voldemort takes you... I can't leave you to deal with it alone, you'd do the same for me. You've already done it."

Mel shook her head, speechless.

"The decision is yours to make..." Dumbledore concluded. "You have until next term to tell me, and then we'll do whatever you please."

They were walking side by side without speaking. She did not wish to fight, and she felt like it would happen if they were to bring up... well, everything. 

"I'm sorry," He muttered. 

"I don't want to hear it. I'm to blame as much as you are. I ignored you — Dumbledore's right, knowing would've tricked us into thinking we could deal with it on our own, it would've killed us... I've been selfish enough this year to know I would've felt tempted to try and cut it on my own. I won't admit it in front of him, though..."

"You weren't —"

"I don't want to have this conversation," She stopped walking. "Everyone thinks I'm like my father or my uncle... and I'm not. When I was with you I was just Mel... whoever that's supposed to be. When we fought I got lost — you said awful things to me, but you were the only one who wasn't treating me like some overpowered freak..."

"I can't promise we won't fight in the future, but there are worse things than disagreeing and the thought of dying without telling you that I..." He came to a halt, voice breaking.

They wanted to talk about so many things, and yet Mel felt like they would never get to say anything at all.

"You know," She said softly. "We've gone through so much already... and it's hard, looking at you and having to pretend I can continue like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm feeling so alone, Harry," She forced the words out of her. "I miss you."

She'd almost been murdered that night, treated like a ragdoll, and traumatized until there was no safe place in her world. Still, nothing made her feel quite as vulnerable and tiny as Harry's understanding of her, the way he knew every single corner of her mind as if it were his own.

Harry gazed at her with hurt, he clenched his jaw and shook his head lightly. She was ready to watch him leave when suddenly, he hugged her.

Mel was having trouble breathing against his shoulder but her arms kept him close, one hand made its way up to the back of his head while the other went to the middle of his back. He was a few inches taller than her, but she still felt like they were a perfect fit.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled against her hair, and Mel knew he wasn't just talking about Sirius.

"Me too," She closed her eyes tightly. "We'll find a way through this... together."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

or

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

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

Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain. 

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

 Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd. 

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet. 

 “I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look. 

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy. 

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.” 

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-” 

 It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

 Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

-

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

��Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this. 

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized. 

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind. 

-

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self. 

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this. 

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings. 

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.” 

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile. 

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.” 

Then Tim stood up and said: 

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went. 

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

-

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office. 

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that. 

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door. 

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months. 

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt. 

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.” 

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.” 

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them. 

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. 

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.” 

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin. 

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise. 

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?” 

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

-

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake. 

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”). 

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

-

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request. 

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library. 

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing  the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right. 

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice. 

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

-

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner. 

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin’s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories. 

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed. 

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however. 

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?” 

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.”

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all. 

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.” 

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.” 

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,” he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward,  “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises. 

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky. 

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more. 

-

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket. 

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood. 

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.” 

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

 நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.” 

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.” 

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it. 

An anchor. 

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon. 

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

[lilsunshiny]

Thoughts on The Last Of Us Part II

WRITING (creative process)

the game’s storyline is straight to the point, you can see from the trailer that it’s going to be a timeline about revenge. the whole game happens around joel’s death in the beginning and I guess that’s the whole reason why people are upset. but guess what? neil druckmann’s goal was to make you upset, angry and nostalgic. he accomplished his goal and that’s why you’re feeling the way you are.

you not liking the the way things went down does not mean the game’s writing is awful, it just means you were expecting something and got another. not liking something isn’t a crime and it’s totally ok as long as you respect the creators and don’t use your hate to put others down, it’s a valid opinion and that’s it.

what makes a story good is the writing and the thought put into it to make the player/reader/viewer feel a certain way, and the developers did an incredible job to do that. we feel frustrated, anxious and weird the entire gameplay and that’s exactly what they wanted from us, which means they won. I’ll talk more about my opinion on the storyline far ahead.

the graphic visuals of this game are RIDICULOUS, they’re perfect. every detail is insane to look at, they worked so hard to get it right and it was so worth it. every time I entered a new scenario I would just go into photo mode and appreciate the art because that’s what makes the game unforgettable and groundbreaking. the red lighting scenes were so perfectly made and so badass, the sky when ellie goes outside the farm with JJ is breathtaking just like every other view in the game. by far the most beautiful game I’ve ever had the honor to play.

STORYLINE (joel’s death)

the first game gave us a story about love and hope, making us guide joel into taking ellie to the fireflies looking for a cure based on ellie’s immunity. we spend the whole game thinking we’d get to the fireflies, make a cure and live happily ever after but that never happened in those terms. the gameplay made us slowly fall in love with joel and ellie as characters, joel for his tough personality that would fade under the influence of a little girl and ellie for her nativity and innocence as a young teenager who really wants to help other people by making a cure. that’s the whole situation of it, joel getting attached to ellie while she developed a paternal affection for him but in the end joel ends up doing an unforgivable thing, basically destroying the hope for a cure and ruining all hope for the world to heal from the outbreak, so he decides to lie to ellie blaming the fireflies for everything so he doesn’t lose her trust and love.

I do understand liking and loving joel as a character, myself included, because they made the game thinking about it and they knew the audience would develop a major caring for him and ellie as daughter and father, that’s how it was supposed to go and it worked it.

now let’s talk about joel’s death. I think we were all surprised to watch him die so early in the game but considering the game time and storyline, it would have never happened differently. his death was brutal, violent, merciless and inhuman, abby and her crew tortured him until he couldn’t take it anymore and he obviously suffered with ellie being held to the ground begging them to stop. I agree that it was a horrible death but we can’t just pretend joel was a sweet innocent hero because he wasn’t, the audience portrays him as a hero when he literally stopped the human race from being saved, killing the fireflies and acting out of pure selfishness. joel isn’t the angel some people paint him as, he’s not a good person and if ellie herself could never forgive him for what he did, who are we to do so? she said she would try but she never got the chance to and it took her years to even come to terms with it.

most importantly, it’s obvious that people forget these characters are human beings, not real people but they’re real in that universe and technically speaking, they run and feel the same way we would feel if we were in their shoes. they’re people, every character in the game is a person, with feelings, a background, a past, a personality and thoughts. they’re no different than us except for them living in a post apocalyptic world were morality and ethics aren’t taken into consideration since there is no law or living lifestyle.

for us to understand this storyline, we need to step away from our society’s view of morality and wrong or right, because that does not apply to them, everyone in the game has killed people and/or have done something morally questionable in their life since it’s the apocalypse and there is no wrong or right, there’s only how the characters feel about certain situations and how they act on them, which is basically what guides the entire game to happening the way it did: human feelings.

joel obviously changed after the first game, since he starts living in jackson and having to raise ellie as a daughter in a relatively normal town with other people, he’s not the same person as he was in part I, now he turned into a father and a friend, not a merciless mercenary who doesn’t care about others. we see that when he and tommy decide to help abby, a complete stranger who was about to die in the hands of infected, and maybe that’s what led people into hating abby with their heart. but ending this topic, joel’s death was bound to happen, you can’t just expect someone to destroy the world’s hope for a cure and leave with no people being angry at him and wanting revenge, that cure could’ve saved many people’s loved ones but he chose to save his loved one. if joel is indeed a terrible person or not, that’s up to you to decide, that’s more of an internal turmoil within yourself that is different for everyone depending on their experience from part I and how they view joel in the end. it’s kind of messed up if you think about it, would you let the only person you care about die for a not confirmed chance of a cure in a world that is already doomed? that’s a question for yourself.

joel’s death happened so you could see things from multiple perspectives, which is the whole fucking point of the game. there are multiple sides to every story, it’s the same world we live in except in different circumstances. your actions affect others, people have feelings and if you hurt them they might act a certain way, those characters are no different than us because they were based on genuine human thoughts and actions.

ELLIE (growth and development)

ellie is one of the most well written characters I’ve ever seen in my life. she’s the symbol of badass but fragile woman and that’s so amazing to me. as the game goes by we start seeing many sides of ellie, she slowly starts to turn into a completely different person after joel’s death and her urge for revenge. killing abby becomes her main priority the second she leaves jackson and that’s clear in the way she acts and treats others. I’ll have to play the game again to pay more attention to ellie and abby’s behavior throughout the timeline. ellie is the reflection of how the excessive amount of effort you put into a negative thought, the more it will bring you and your loved ones down. watching ellie during the story is such a nice experience, there are times where you love her to death, others you get annoyed with her or don’t agree with how she acts, and that’s exactly how the creators wanted you to feel. revenge takes ellie’s soul from the inside out, from her not being able to forgive herself for letting joel die to her going after abby for nothing but hate for herself in the end.

ellie’s journey is exciting to play and to witness as her relationship with other people (specially dina) starts to fade away and being consumed by hate and regret. we were manipulated into loving ellie since part I and I don’t think she’s a bad person, she lost everything in the hands of other people and went through a lot, losing joel was a deal breaker for her but she just didn’t realize soon enough that killing abby wasn’t going to make things better. ellie’s gameplay was meant to make you reflect on losing a loved one, grief, mourning and revenge, she’s not the lost kid from part I anymore, she’s a grown woman who just lost her dad and she doesn’t even know exactly why. the funny thing for me, which is what makes the story realistic, is that ellie didn’t fully forgive joel yet she still suffered from losing him and went after abby for revenge, when not even herself could forgive him, that’s pretty realistic in my opinion. it’s the human uncontrollable instinct of still missing someone you’re mad at and not being able to say goodbye.

for me, ellie is the perfect and most detailed reflection of revenge and what it can do to you. the game is much more than “revenge is bad don’t do it”, we all obviously know it’s bad but we still have an urge to fight back against it and make the person who hurt us suffer too because it’s not fair for us and it wasn’t fair for ellie until the very last moment.

ABBY (point of view and perspective)

by far the most controversial character of the game. I’ll star off saying I actually like abby and I think the people who hate her so deeply just didn’t understand how things go. hating abby is no different than hating ellie, they’re in the same situation for almost the entire game. abby lost her father in joel’s hands, she was still a teenager and seeing her own dad die for trying to save humanity isn’t easy, just like ellie watching joel being tortured and killed wasn’t easy. being fully honest ellie would’ve done the same thing abby did if joel was the doctor and we can’t deny that.

on the other hand, I do think the ellie and abby gameplays could’ve been distributed better, maybe switching from ellie to abby and back and forth so it wouldn’t get too tiring or confusing since we don’t know the exact timeline when we first play it. that’s the only slightly negative thing I have to say about the game.

I do think abby is a great character, they built her perfectly to make the audience hate her in the begging, painting her as a sadistic monster only to show her side of the story later on in the game and make you realize that you have been wrong all this time, making you see the bigger picture and understand that ellie isn’t the only person in the world, she isn’t loved by everyone, she’s just a girl in the world and so is abby. they both have fucked up pasts and they both lost a lot, and in terms of personality, they’re actually quite similar. we love ellie because we got to see her grow up and WE know that deep down she’s not a bad person, the first impression we had of abby was of her recklessly killing joel with a golf club when ellie was begging her to stop, since that we tend to think abby is a horrible person and that ellie is an angel, but it’s not like that at all. obviously ellie didn’t do anything wrong up to that moment to justify that happening to her, but ellie isn’t the best person in the world either.

the duality in this game was created on purpose and with a deeper meaning, ellie is ellie, abby is abby and the cycle of revenge goes on until both parts understand that it’s useless to keep going. abby let go before ellie could and let her and dina live because of lev, killing joel didn’t change abby to the better, lev changed her. tommy couldn’t change ellie, jesse couldn’t change ellie and not even dina could do it, ellie had to change and forgive herself alone. the point I’m trying to make is that abby is no better than ellie and ellie is no better than abby, they’re both emotionally drained women who are not wrong or right in the end of things.

DINA (support and reflection)

dina is the only character I will 100% defend because she’s flawless and did absolutely nothing wrong during the whole game. in my head she represents ellie’s good side, dina is the constant reminder that ellie hasn’t lost her humanity and hasn’t completely changed into someone else because of revenge, even when she has her downs (example: calling her a burden when dina says she’s pregnant). dina is the most forgiving and loyal character, she loves ellie more than anything and it shows. the sad part of it is that even with dina’s huge amount of love and affection, that doesn’t stop ellie from going in the wrong direction, which brings us to another life lesson: loving someone is a choice you make everyday and nobody can control your choices when you’re determined to do something.

ellie decided to go after abby, dina followed and supported her the whole way through, then she took that for granted and left dina and JJ behind to go after abby again (after abby let her and dina live) officially breaking dina’s heart. that was a choice, dina obviously cared so much about ellie, loved her so much but she couldn’t change ellie’s mind. but the point here is that dina is a reflection of ellie’s bright side, she keeps ellie sane until the very last moment, saving her life multiple times, going with her in a revenge journey, “you go, I go, end of story”, telling the wolves to fuck off and staying by ellie’s side, constantly putting her life at risk while being pregnant, she has loves ellie for such a long time even before getting with jesse (you can read ellie’s journal where she says cat told her dina is jealous of their relationship) and she probably took ellie back when she came back from santa barbara (a theory that I believe in because it makes sense).

dina is one of the few positive ends in the universe of the last of us, highly optimistic, funny, beautiful and an amazing support system for ellie. if it weren’t for dina, ellie would’ve become a monster.

LGBTQ+ REPRESENTATION (ellie x dina and lev)

it’s 2020 and people are still talking shit about the game just because of queer characters. that’s why I say people who hate the game are people who either didn’t capture the story or just didn’t even try to pay attention because of a closed mindset bigot sandwiches. representation is the best path to general acceptance, making people see different stories and realize that someone’s gender or sexuality does not influence on the quality of art.

ellie is a lesbian, that’s clear in the game when she says she’s “not into jessie’s type” (such a nice dialogue by the way), she talks about her ex girlfriend and clearly has had a crush on dina for the longest time (probably the reason why she broke up with cat).

dina is bisexual, in my opinion she always had a crush on ellie but maybe she lost motivation to to after her when she started to get close to cat and started talking to jessie because of that and it ended up working.

now dina and ellie’s relationship is probably the only thing that keeps us sane throughout the game, when we sit down to think “thank god ellie has dina, that means she’s not alone”, which is basically the whole concept of it, ellie not being alone because dina is there to hold her to the ground and stop her from becoming someone she doesn’t want to be.

lev being trans is something I can‘t have an opinion on, I have seen both sides: people saying it was a good approach and others saying it wasn’t an accurate representation. I’m not trans so my opinion isn’t valid and I can definitely see why many people think it was a bad reach but I also can see the other side, so I won’t comment on that.

the nice thing about representation in this game is that they brought it up as a normal thing, the only moment the focus is sexuality is when seth was being a dick and called dina the d-word, ellie got defensive but dina stopped her from getting into a fight. even then the main focus of that situation was how ellie dealt with joel saying she didn’t need his help. the point was never ellie’s sexuality, never, not even in a single moment, because it was never an issue. in a post apocalyptic society people don’t pay much attention to being homophobes (unless they’re in a fanatic religious cult or just assholes like seth).

the game approached the subject very bluntly but in a normal way, not making it that huge of a deal but it is a big deal for those who seek comfort and/or are dealing with their sexuality in a way. if a character they admire ends up being part of a minority group, they can relate to that and feel more comfortable in their own skin. we’re here, we’re real and we exist even in a fucked up infected world.

ENDING + THOUGHTS (moving on)

the last of us part II is a story about revenge, being completely different than part I which is a story about love and surviving. what happens in the second game are the consequences of the first, the choices joel made reflected upon himself, saving ellie costed everything; the cure, people’s lives and maybe a brighter future. people who are bashing the game for it’s storyline and how things went down need to understand that it’s not because we love joel that his actions didn’t matter to others. joel is a human being, so is abby and those who got harmed by joel’s choice to save ellie. joel killed abby’s dad, abby went after him for revenge, a predictable and reasonable thing to do if you just try to see it from her point of view, keep in mind that ellie would do the same exact thing.

if you can’t get yourself to see things from other people’s point of view, you missed the whole point of the game. the storyline isn’t summed up in “revenge is bad don’t do it kids”, it’s just based on the fact that death can never and will never bring you any sort of relief.

the game is the reflection of the cycle of revenge. abby going after joel for killing her dad, ellie going after abby and killing all of her friends in the process, abby finally breaks the cycle letting ellie and dina live but ellie couldn’t get over the guilt and went after abby again, yet she ended up letting her ago and officially breaking the chain for good.

the whole concept of the game is how seeking someone else’s suffering can lead to full destruction of someone’s character and values.

if ellie had killed abby she would’ve turned into the monster she was fighting against and she would lose literally everything she hadn’t already lost: her humanity. I don’t actually know the exact reason that compelled ellie to let abby go, maybe it was losing her fingers and realizing that she’ll never be able to play guitar again, which was her very last memory of joel and what he taught her. it could also be thinking of lev and how he’s the only thing abby has and vice versa, which is what she had with joel and what was taken from her, therefore she didn’t want to turn into the person who put someone through the same pain she was going through. technically if she killed abby she would have to kill lev to avoid him coming after her and continuing the cycle and doing that would kill ellie even more.

to make this shorter, abby moved on earlier than ellie. mostly because abby actually got her revenge killing joel but you gotta look through things before you put all the blame on her. ellie lost everyone in her life, her parents, riley, tess, sam and then joel, going after abby was a defense mechanism since she couldn’t have done anything to save those she lost before, but losing the one who took care and raised her was something she couldn’t bare, specially when she thought joel was the only person she had even though they weren’t in good terms and she and dina weren’t a thing yet.

ellie needed to revenge joel at all costs because that’s what she thought he would want, but in the end she realizes he would want her to move on and be happy, because that’s what he always tried to give her: the best shot in life that he couldn’t give sarah. ellie thought that by killing abby she would be able to let go, when in reality she would just feel more guilty for leaving lev alone like she was having no emotional relief concerning her PTSD. ellie got to that beach fully aware that killing abby wasn’t going to solve any of her problems, but a single memory of joel made her make the decision that she wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. their final fight was silent, in the middle of nowhere, they had absolutely nothing to say to each other because they were both fighting for nothing but excessive mental emptiness. they both knew that nothing would bring their loved ones back and they were ready to move on.

what the game wants to teach you is that nothing good comes from searching revenge and other’s suffering. ellie gets consumed by her own view of justice and ends up losing herself both inside and outside, when she comes to terms with the fact that killing abby won’t bring joel back from the dead, it’s already too late. she lost jessie, her friendship with tommy, her good memories with joel, her fingers which results in her not being able to play guitar anymore, the love of her life and her son.

in the last of us part one ellie says that her biggest fear is to end up alone, and the saddest part of all is that her actions led her to making that fear come true. the ending is ambiguous, it can mean something different to different people depending on what you choose to interpret things and how you view the characters. for some, ellie could just end up alone looking for a life purpose that doesn’t involve anyone from her past. to others, ellie returned to jackson and proved dina that she loved her and that now she’s ready to fully commit because she let go of her anger and is at peace with herself and her inner struggles. but that’s all up to you to decide what you want to believe in.

at the end of the day, this storyline is beautiful, heartbreaking, breathtaking and emotionally draining. it makes you think and open your mind to new perspectives, which is honestly one of the best things art is able to do, create a new universe for you to deep your thoughts in and take your own conclusions. the last of us didn’t have a bad or good ending, it had a realistic ending. just because they didn’t make this the way you wanted it doesn’t mean the writing is bad, it means you’re probably disappointed and that’s fine, but hating on it isn’t the way to make a point.

I can only thank everyone involved for creating this world and making me so invested in it, connecting me with these amazing characters and emotions that I never experienced playing a game before. there is nothing more to say except: endure and survive.

[joiedecombat]

Continuing in the vein of common Pride and Prejudice AU plots: Elizabeth marries someone else!

A lot of the time this is just to set her up as a wealthy widow of a peer and turn the disparity of social standing on its head, but sometimes the writers are out for blood.

Prime example: The Events at Branxbourne by Caitlin Williams.

This is The Worst Timeline. Okay, maybe Amy D'Orazio's Mysteries of Pemberley has it beat for overall bleakness, but Mysteries is a Gothic, they're supposed to be bleak. I'm not sure what Branxbourne's excuse is.

By the beginning of this book, almost the entire cast is miserable. Jane died of a fever shortly after Elizabeth's sojourn in Kent. Mr Bennet had what appears to have been a stroke, and though he survived it's left him physically impaired. Charles Bingley doesn't speak to Darcy any more since Jane's death; Darcy has spent the last several years burying himself in Derbyshire while Georgiana, in the care of her Fitzwilliam relatives in London, has fallen in with the bad influences of the shallow fashionable set. Colonel Fitzwilliam married Anne de Bourgh and didn't realize how much he loved her until she died giving birth to his son. And Elizabeth is married to an Earl who is mentally ill, abusive, deeply in debt and might have murdered his last wife.

GOOD TIMES. The only characters doing at all well for themselves are, oddly enough, Lydia and Wickham... but not with each other.

Naturally things only get worse from there once Darcy crosses Elizabeth's path again for the first time in years and starts to realize just how bad a situation that she's in.

"Do not cry, Elizabeth. I could bear anything but that."

She trembles. Looking about, seeing we are half-hidden by the trees and that there is no one around, I reach out and press her hand, squeeze her fingers tightly, but only for a moment. "My love, do not cry."

"Your love. Is that what I am?"

"Can I be plainer?"

"Yes, please." She surprises me with a broad smile. "Please do be very plain about it."

"You are my love," I tell her. "My only love, till the end of time. Whatever else my happen, and we may expect dark days ahead, never doubt that in this moment, beneath this perfect, blue sky, on this warm September day, you are loved as no other woman has ever been loved before. You are loved for all that you are, for what you once were, for all you will come to be."

"Mr Darcy, if only you had not once hidden your talent for compliments so well, then we might not be in this terrible mess."

I love a good Darcy To The Rescue story as much as anybody, but this one's A Lot. You've gotta be in a mood to wallow in the melodrama, to want to see these characters pushed to their limits by a situation that can't be endured and which their society's laws and mores offer no palatable solution for.

The happy ending comes as it should, but the trip there is an especially rough ride with little comic relief.

Content warning: domestic abuse, depiction of mental illness, infidelity (emotional if not physical), angst, first person present tense narration.

"If you, too, would enter into this marriage for practical reasons, I would be more easy with the notion. Then we would give to each other only what was received."

He smiled faintly. "Alas, my desire to marry you is formed by the wishes of my heart, not my head, so I cannot oblige you."

"If I did feel myself forming a more romantic attachment, I would welcome it. I just want you to understand that I do not know whether it will occur. It must be yours to decide whether or not you can be in an unequal marriage."

"I have considered it," he admitted after a thoughtful pause. "I see how you loved your husband, and I did not expect to supplant that. I shall readily admit that I am a jealous man, and to know that your heart belongs to him is difficult for me to accept. However, my choice is for an unequal marriage no matter what we decide. Either I can be with you--the one I love--or I can marry another and, thus, be with one who might love me but whom I do not love. You see, just as your heart is for Henry, mine is for you. That will not change.

"So, fully apprehending your hesitation, I say yes, I do agree to a practical marriage with you, accepting whatever amount of affection you give to me because I cannot live without you."

Amy D'Orazio's The Best Part of Love, meanwhile, has Elizabeth already married and widowed by the time she meets Darcy. Her husband was murdered in a treasonous plot that required her to live incognito with her family in Hertfordshire for a couple of years, allowing Darcy to make his usual astonishingly bad first impression at the Meryton assembly and fall in love more or less at first sight.

Rather than Branxbourne's unrelenting angst, this book is a whole soap opera: unnecessarily complicated backstory, misunderstandings and mistaken identities, high emotion, a mystery, and a sharp plunge into acute misery in the third act when it turns out that Elizabeth's late husband might be considerably less dead than advertised, to the dismay of nearly everyone involved.

It's a very well-written soap opera, and worth reading if you're looking for that kind of emotional roller coaster.

The essence of the problem was that there was simply nothing he could do for the situation. He had never before been faced with a challenge for which some action could not be taken. He could neither buy anything nor persuade anyone, work at something nor study a topic, take himself away from his pain nor have the pain removed. He did not even have the comfort of despising someone. There was no one to despise, not even himself, for all had acted with honour and integrity and done the best they could with the hand they had been dealt. It was nothing more than a circumstance beyond anyone's control, and that made it insupportable.

After leaving him to wallow about in his despair for a fortnight, his cousins came for him as he had suspected they eventually would.

"Have you left your house at all, Darcy?" Fitzwilliam's face bore a look of vexing kindliness.

"What do you think--that I sit here all day pining for her?" he snapped.

"That is precisely what I think," Saye replied, tousling Darcy's hair as he walked by and then further compounding his sin by not even looking to see the angry scowl Darcy gave him.

This book also contains my favorite version ever of Colonel Fitzwilliam's older brother, here (as in all of the rest of D'Orazio's Pride and Prejudice fiction) named Viscount Saye and characterized as a languid, almost terminally unflappable dandy with very few social filters to speak of and absolutely no fucks to give. He's an affectionate cousin to Darcy and usually gleefully awful, and is a character I enjoy very much.

Content warning: very brief reference to suicidal thoughts, high melodrama.

[a-memory-of]

Kazha'a Anhsari was sat at the kitchen table, propped up in one of the chairs and eyeing the package in silence. He had made no move to open it, not yet. He had been right. Ellere had worked relatively fast, and now everything felt more real.

Finally, he reached for the package with one hand, the other for a small knife at his belt. Cutting it open, revealed a singular but well-padded item. A vial of pale red liquid. There was also a note, to which he handed to Laurens with an expectant look.

Dear Kazha'a, or I suppose I should address his friend knowing he will not be the one to read this. I have enclosed what you asked. The poison you provided was extremely potent, not like I have seen before. I know not what he has gotten himself mixed up in, but do look out for him for me, would you?

The vial is a preventative measure. Take it at least a bell before he decides to... engage in whatever it is he is up to. It is temporary. Use with care.

Be safe,

Ellere

Laurens Lalier held himself back from the impulse to stop Kazha'a as the Miqo'te went to open the package. His hands momentarily clenched into tight fists, fingernails biting shallow crescents into his skin. When the letter was offered to him, he forced his hands at least to relax and took the note to read it aloud. "...Well, it sounds like she was the right person to ask. When we're through this, I would like to meet her sometime." He tried for lightness of tone even with tension leaking through everything he did.

He didn't know when Kazha'a would finally choose to make his move. Having this, however, meant it could be literally any time now. A chill crept down Laurens' spine and took up residence in the pit of his stomach. "Was there anything else you wanted to prepare? Anything other things you need?"

The Keeper drew his eyes down to the bottle, listening to the words on the note. Kazha'a trusted Ellere. If she believed in it, so could he. He hummed, choosing not to comment on the two of them meeting. He wasn't against it. Just it was best to remain focused on the now. 

Kazha'a shook his head, taking the vial and standing from the table. "No, there's nothing else," he looked over to Laurens, hesitating a moment. He could sense the way his body language had changed. Kazha'a gave a deep sigh. "I'm leaving tonight," he met Laurens' eyes, "You don't have to come. I'll say it again. Understand if you do, you could die."

"I'm not letting you walk out of here alone - not if I have the option to come with you," he added, the brief flash of assertiveness faltering. "It's not about me, I know that. But I can't just let another person walk out that door and never return, especially if there's even a shred of possibility I could change that outcome."

Laurens carefully set the letter down on the table and smoothed it with his hands before looking up to meet Kazha'a's eyes. "I'd rather it be the last time I leave this place as well. Whether or not you want it or like it, you have my support and my..." he hesitated. "...my loyalty."

Something in Kazha'a's gaze softened, just slightly. Laurens was stubborn, he supposed. They both were. Kazha'a hated the idea of having another life on his hands, but he found he hated the idea of him doing this alone even more. But it strengthened his resolve. His life may have been forfeit, but now he wanted to fight for someone else.

"Then we'll leave at sundown," Kazha'a gave a nod, his tone grateful, but not having lost the weight of what the words meant. He moved from the table, into the bedroom and returned a moment later with the whetstone he'd been given, and his knives. "I'll... be outside," the Keeper offered, retreating to the outside porch swing.

"Alright," Laurens agreed with a short nod. He didn't try to stop Kazha'a, nor did he move to immediately follow. They each had their own way of processing and making ready for what was to come.

For Laurens, making ready involved writing and then sealing several letters. It also involved a quick linkpearl call to his trusted courier - with instructions to come by and retrieve the letters should he not hear from Laurens over the next week. All of it felt chillingly final.

Eventually he made his way out to the porch. He didn't want to disturb Kazha'a, necessarily, though he still sought the Keeper's company. But if Kazha'a wished to be left alone, there were plenty of other places for Laurens to go around his home.

Kazha'a hadn't expected Laurens to follow him immediately. They both had much to do. But as the other joined him outside, it was apparent he was open to the company. He had left the side of the swing the Elezen usually occupied open. Kazha'a didn't look up or offer words, he remained focused on tending his knives.

Only when Laurens approached did he finally glance up. It was easy to see he was troubled. But there was a determined fire in his eyes as well. It was hard to fully understand that what he had been trying to do for more than half his life could finally reach an end in a matter of bells.

_________________________________

With @ffxivaltstars

Laurens took the open spot, crossing his legs one over the other and resting his empty hands over them. He bit his lip, but nodded in response to Kazha'a's expression. There was no way for him to understand fully how Kazha'a was feeling. To be facing something like this was far outside the realm of Laurens' experience, and to try to compare it to something else felt belittling.

He wasn't even sure about speaking, at first, but the silence was more oppressive than comforting. "Is there anything I can get or do for you?" He finally asked, not taking his eyes off Kazha'a. "I know you aren't someone who often wants to rely on help, but I still offer it freely."

The Keeper's brows furrowed, and he shook his head. Kazha'a's gaze dropped back down to his knives and the whetstone. "No," he finally said, shifting one knee up and balancing an arm over it. His other hand set aside the stone, favoring running his thumb over the leather around the hilt of his dagger. "You've... done enough."

It was true. The only reason he was here, the only reason he was this close was because Laurens had offered his help. Kazha'a had been trying for years. But for the first time, he actually stood a chance against his mother. And it was all because he had allowed himself to find support.  He turned to look at the late afternoon sun through the trees.

"I was stupid before," he started again. "And I treated you like shite. I don't... know why you let me in. But thank you. I realize how much I wanted you to be different... than everyone else."

Laurens chewed his lip thoughtfully while Kazha'a spoke. It was true that their first few meetings had been anything but smooth. But each time he'd thought about it long after, wondering about the odd but somehow special Miqo'te he'd encountered. He nodded slightly. "You're welcome. You're always welcome." The double-meaning of the words made Laurens smile.

"You were... a bit hostile," Laurens admitted. "But you seemed like you needed a friend. Not someone to take care of you-- someone who cared for you." His breath came out as a voiceless chuckle. "I'm sorry. I realize that sounds like something from one of my books. It's how I feel, though."

Laurens shifted his weight on the swing, setting it gently moving. As close as they were, he hesitated before slipping an arm around Kazha'a's shoulders and giving him the lightest of sideways hugs.

Kazha'a pursed his lips at being called hostile, just a bit. He knew it was true. But the look quickly melted away. He wouldn't admit to needing to hear words like that, that hearing it put in such a way made him understand. He never wanted to be coddled, but that still didn't mean he wanted to always be alone. That's just how it ended up.

As Laurens hooked an arm around him, Kazha'a didn't fight the urge to lean in turn. If he was to die tonight, he wanted to feel something, at the least. Slowly his head came to rest on the other's shoulder, and the stiffness of his shoulders faded. But maybe he had to know, maybe he wanted something to carry with him that night.

So before he could stop it, words slipped out in a low, unsure whisper, "...And you care for me?"

The lean wasn't expected, even if there may have been a faint hope for something along those lines. With that gesture and the soft question that followed, Laurens' heart skidded awkwardly as it tried to find its proper rhythm again. He turned his head and, without allowing himself time to second-guess, kissed the top of Kazha'a's head. The sound of the wind in the trees, the warm weight against his side, the smell of Kazha'a's hair - this would be a memory that Laurens would hold tight to for a long time, provided he lived to see another day.

"Very much so," he murmured in response, the hairs tickling his nose enough to force him to move his face. He rested his chin gently atop Kazha'a's head instead. "I know you've essentially been stuck with me for a while, but... in spite of the circumstances, having you here has been a welcome change from my life before. When all is said and done and your task here is completed, the house is going to feel very empty once you've gone back to your usual business."

Kazha'a was a stranger to affection. He knew of it, of course, saw people in the cities share a closeness he never really knew. Ellere often had spoken of it while they worked together. But experiencing it himself was far different. His sister hugged him, held his hand and had slept against him before. This wasn't that. He felt the kiss to his head, he felt the weight that followed. 

The Keeper looked down to their hands resting between them. His fingers twitched. He was chewing on the inside of his lip. Why was this so hard? Finally he forced his hand to move again, slowly, hesitating. It was just a brush of skin, really, he lost nerve to try more than that. But his Kazha'a's hand came to rest against Laurens' all the same. "No one's ever..."

The hesitant gesture did not go unnoticed. Laurens turned his hand slightly, his fingers sliding over Kazha'a's to loosely twine. "You're a special person, whether you believe me or not," he said with conviction. Pulling back slightly in order to look down into Kazha'a's face, Laurens lifted his free hand in order to touch just beneath Kazha'a's chin and tip his face up to meet his eyes.

He shouldn't do anything that might startle Kazha'a or otherwise fluster him before going into something so important. Yet at the same time, Laurens couldn't bear the thought of living with more regrets than the ones that already cluttered his heart. It was such a short distance to cross, almost instinctive to bring his face closer to Kazha'a's. But he stopped just short, hesitating, the conflict within him no allowing him to not think. "Is it alright if I--?" he asked, the movement causing his lips to brush faintly, unintentionally tantalizingly against the Keeper's.

His head followed the touch under his chin first, and then his eyes turned up after. Kazha'a seemed unsure, unfamiliar, but not unwilling. Had it been nearly a turn ago when they met, he would have easily snapped his head away from any touch. But he didn't now. The Keeper's fingers tightened ever-so slightly in their hold.

Kazha'a understood the question. He understood the motion, and the way Laurens had leaned in. He hadn't moved, not away but also not closer. Not yet. His gaze flicked to the side, for just a moment. "I don't..." the uncertainty seemed to stem primarily from his own inadequacies. Kazha'a had always been very clear if he did not like something. This hesitation was because he did.

Swallowing down a thick feeling in his throat, he finally moved forward. He didn't have to go far, not with Laurens already so close. It was a soft thing, in utter contrast to most everything else Kazha'a was.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Thirty-One: An Accessory ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina, NaruSaku ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

When it comes to her appearance, Hinata has always stuck to the basics. Never has she been the sort of girl to dress up or look flashy. If anything, she’s more comfortable and content to blend into the background. Whether it’s her no-effort hair (unless she gets a wild hare to put it up in a ponytail), baggy clothes (she’s not keen on being too straightforward given her body shape), or her lack of accessories, she simply keeps herself low-maintenance.

In a way, she envies the other girls her age. Ino has always been so fashion conscious. With hardly any effort, she can put together an ensemble that sweeps people off their feet. Glamor without going overboard. Even her hair is more lustrous than Hinata’s own: the long golden tail is far more eye-catching than Hinata’s plain dark locks. Sakura’s choppy, rosy strands get more attention despite their lack of upkeep, too.

Sometimes, she wishes she could be pretty. Be out there. But between her self-conscious nature, and shyness at being noticed, she’s not sure she could ever actually handle putting any more effort into her appearance. The dual feelings of wanting attention and yet being leery of it can be rather...depressing.

But, in the end, she keeps to her typical habits. She’s been this way all her life, after all. Why change? It’s not like there’s anyone she wants to attract, anyway. Naruto, after all, has always set his gaze elsewhere...and her actions never swayed that. Not enough, at least. Already it’s evident he and his female teammate are romantically involved...even if neither has the heart to tell her.

She remembers the rosette offering the possibility of seeking companionship with her own teammates: Kiba, or maybe Shino. And yet, that idea wrinkled the Hyūga’s nose. For quite some time, the pair have been far more like family...like older brothers that both tease and bolster her, snapping at anyone who gives her trouble. She’s not sure she could ever set that aside and attempt to have something...more with either of them. It just wouldn’t feel right.

Beyond that...she really has no clue.

But Fate has different ideas...and starts placing someone specific in front of her.

It started with the whole of team seven. Sasuke, newly returned for his brother’s reappearance, begrudgingly spent time with them...even if that meant mostly being a third wheel as Naruto and Sakura get a bit involved with one another’s company.

And given her friendship with the pair, that often left Hinata as wheel number four. At first, she thought little of it. Having been made privy to Sasuke’s circumstances due to mutual acquaintances, she already knew much of what had transpired in his past...and how it still affected his present. In the same vein, she was one of the few able to understand...and willing to move on. True, the pair had been relative strangers before he left, but if anything that served in her favor. Sasuke held no ill will against her. They had a fresh slate from which to start.

And then came the alliance with the Hyūga. As Itachi’s future hung in the balance with his prior convictions held over his head, it was the other dōjutsu clan that was called for help. But her bloodline have always been shrewd...and then arranged for an alliance. Sasuke had rebelled against the idea, but eventually acquiesced at Itachi’s urging.

Thus, Hinata and Sasuke seemed almost unable to get away from each other. She served as the liaison between the two clans...mostly because it was she the Uchiha knew (and tolerated) best.

With that, Hinata conceded, and accepted that she and Sasuke were simply apt to bump into each other more often than not.

Like today, for example.

Yet again, Naruto and Sakura have invited them both out for a day of catching up. Naruto has been busy learning under both Tsunade and Kakashi. Sakura has been gearing up to take a leading position in the hospital. Hinata’s work with her clan and the Uchiha has kept her busy, as it has Sasuke. So the four have had little time left over to simply spend together.

So, they’ve taken to wandering an outdoor market. The weather is fine, not too hot yet, and they peruse the goods alongside a small crowd of people. The more boisterous pair are at the front, Sakura openly ogling as Naruto looks sadly to his frog wallet. Behind them, the others aren’t really as interested, mostly just taking in the sights. Sasuke isn’t one much for stuff, and Hinata’s frugal habits mean avoiding most anything not terribly necessary.

“Ooh, Hinata! Look at this!”

Attention caught as Sakura waves her over, Hinata steps up and takes a peek.

“Isn’t it beautiful? It looks just your style!”

An ornate hair clip - silver adorned with white doves - rests atop a small stand, gleaming in the light. Hinata’s eyes go a little wide. It is extremely pretty...and also very expensive. “Oh, well...I-I’ve never really worn hair a clip before…”

“Don’t you have that dove print kimono? You could wear it to the matsuri next month! It would be so perfect, Hinata! Don’t you think?”

“W-well, I…”

“You should get it.”

At once, all three of the others turn to look at Sasuke. Blank-faced, he looks back. “...what?”

“Didn’t think you’d have an opinion about hair clips, Sasuke,” Naruto muses, a brow perking.

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Well, no, but…”

“I-I’m not sure if I should spend the money,” Hinata quickly cuts in, not wanting to spark one of the boys’ many arguments. “It is very pretty, but...I don’t really need it.”

“Aww, boo,” Sakura replies, lips pursing in a pout. “It would go so well with that outfit!”

“Yeah, well...m-maybe next time.”

With that, Sakura shrugs and moves to the next booth, Naruto right on her tail. Hinata can’t help a small sigh of relief.

“...do you like it?”

“Eh?” Turning as Sasuke speaks, Hinata blinks at him. “W...what?”

“The hair clip. Do you like it?”

“Well, I...I guess I do, but -”

“I could get it for you.”

Flustered color quickly blooms in Hinata’s face. “Oh, n-no! Sasuke-kun, please don’t. It’s so expensive, and -”

“But you want it.”

“I...I said I like it, not that...I want it.”

The Uchiha perks a brow. “...what’s the difference?”

“Well...I can like something but not want to get it. I don’t, um...I don’t really wear hair clips, anyway. I wouldn’t use it enough to justify the cost.”

That doesn’t seem to clarify much for him, but Sasuke doesn’t push the issue. “...all right then.” With that said, he keeps walking, Hinata following suit...with just one last little backward glance to the clip.

No, Hinata...you don’t need it. Leave it alone.

By the end of the day, it completely slips her mind. There’s far more important things to worry about, after all. Embroiled back into her work, she forgets about the little exchange entirely, and life goes on.

And then, the matsuri arrives.

As per usual, the four of them agree to go together. By then, it’s long since been accepted (and explained) that Naruto and Sakura are, indeed, an official couple. Though a bit somber about it at first, Hinata quickly finds herself glad for them. Happy that Naruto’s affections are finally returned, and that her friends have someone to rely on.

Though it does make for the typical arrangement of Hinata and Sasuke feeling more like tagalongs than part of a group…

Sighing lightly to herself, Hinata brushes back hair behind her ear as they wait in line at a food stall. Naruto is having difficulty choosing, which is holding up the queue.

“...Hyūga.”

“Hm?” Turning, she startles a bit as Sasuke holds out a piece of folded cloth. “...um -?”

“Here.”

Blinking, she accepts, feeling something within the fabric. A few tugs later, she brightens. “...Sasuke-kun, you…?”

“I knew you wanted it, so I got it. Figured I’d just make it a matsuri present.”

Going a bit pink, Hinata carefully retrieves the dove clip. “...you didn’t have to do that…”

“I wanted to.”

Moving to use it, Hinata fumbles for a moment before stilling as he urges it from her hand, able to see what he’s doing. Carefully, he pins back her hair. “...there. It really does match your kimono.”

Still pink, her head bows shyly. “...thank you…”

“...you’re welcome.”

When the other two are finally finished in line, Sakura quickly notices the change. “Oh, you got it?”

“Um, well…actually, I -”

“Looks good,” Sasuke offers, cutting off her explanation.

After a pause, she realizes his intention. “...thanks.”

“You should wear your hair like that more often, Hinata,” Naruto offers, mouth full of food.

A small smile pulls at her lips. “...maybe I will.”

                                                        .oOo.

     I won’t lie...this one took some thinking, lol - neither Hinata nor Sasuke really seem the sort to indulge in accessories, but...well, maybe they would if the other gets something for them x3      Sneaky Sasuke, picking up that clip...! Pretty smooth there, guy...even if maybe he doesn’t quite fully realize what he just did, haha!      Buuut yeah, that’ll do it from me tonight! Thanks for reading n_n

[shaineybainey]

Lab Rats Spin-Off, Reimagined

Okay, so picture it: Davenport never formed the Elite Force. Mighty Med was attacked, but Horace and Alan survived. Threats of various levels are popping up, not just in Centium City, but all over the world.

Help is needed, and a team is formed to investigate mysterious cases and hunt down superpowered lawbreakers - both from this planet and beyond.

This is an alternate version (and honestly, what I thought would have been more interesting to see) of a Lab Rats spin-off series. It’s geared more towards older teenagers and maybe early 20’s viewers? Think Agents of SHIELD x [insert your favorite crime procedural], but lighter and milder. The cast is diverse. Instead of one city and similar, repeating sets, the show goes to various countries all over the world.

Below is the cast of characters making up the team.

Agent Herman Delgado

Supervisor

played by Adam Rodriguez

Nicknamed “HD” by Leo, Delgado has been assigned by the covert international group to supervise the young team. He’s a seasoned agent with years of experience under his belt. He's tasked with relaying new assignments to the members, and during missions, he‘s there to guide them.

Though considered a ‘no-nonsense’ supervisor, Delgado truly cares about the young people entrusted in his care. His job prevents him from being with his family and having one of his own, so he’s spent years being by himself. Now, having the five in his care, having a semblance of a family, he’s thrilled. He’ll never admit it, but he’s glad that he’s not so alone anymore.

Skylar Storm

Team Leader

played by Paris Berelc

Skylar is appointed to be the leader despite not having her powers back (yet). Her team benefits from her quick thinking, level-headedness, and fair sense of judgment as it often diffuses high-tension situations and keeps them safe during dangerous missions.

If she’s to be honest, this new assignment is challenging. She’s so used to working alone that suddenly having to care for three then four others around her age is an adjustment. Still, in each week that passes she learns she can count on both Oliver and their new friends to have her back no matter what comes their way.

Bree Davenport

Recon Expert, Ocassional Co-Leader

played by Kelli Berglund

Bree didn’t want to accept the job in the beginning. Although she did sign the contract accepting it, she was that close to walking away. They’re deceptive, she thought, this unnamed organization, and she didn’t know if she could work with people like them.

Still, she stayed, because at the end of the day she knew that here she could do more good.

Being one of the only two superpowered members when they first started, Bree feels the weight of the job at times. Nonetheless, as things continue to shift and change for them, she realizes that things won’t be too bad as long as she’s with her team. She can lean on her little brother and her friends, just like how she could on Adam and Chase when she was still with them. 

Leo Dooley

Hacker & Tech Expert, Linguist

played by Tyrel Jackson Williams

Out of the Founding Four, Leo is the most eager to start this new job clouded in mystery. He takes everything with a wide-eyed wonder, and he’s always ready to jump into action - which annoys his teammates at times. Though the most vulnerable out of the five due to lack of experience and abilities, he continues to be the most spirited and most motivated.

He also contributes much by providing the team with the gadgets and intel they need in their many assignments. Because of his diplomatic personality, the international group has opted to train him in speaking many languages - in both Earth ones and ones from other planets.

Oliver (Connelly)

Medical Resident

played by Jake Short

Guilt has been plaguing Oliver since reports of Mr. Terror attacking innocent people began sprouting like dandelions. He can’t shake the feeling that it was all his fault, and so out of that he agrees to work with the nameless organization.

He brings his medical expertise to the table, a knowledge that surprisingly extends in usefulness outside the superhero world. Because he also works with regular humans, he’s trained by the organization’s professionals on how to care for his teammates when they’re injured (and in this job, they do get hurt - a lot).

This doesn’t restrict him to his clinic and medical supplies, though. His list of abilities also makes him a valuable asset to the team during missions.

Ranavalova Girard

Ex-Assassin, Probationary Member

played by Tati Gabrielle

Ran never intended to become part of the team - or any team for that matter. The half-French, half-Malagasy is a trained assassin, bent initially on destroying the men and women that caused the death of her mother and destroyed her family. Her quest for revenge eventually put her in the path of the team. She proved to be the first real challenge to them due to her intelligence and skills. Eventually, though, they caught her.

The committee ended up offering her a deal: go to a max security prison for her crimes and lose her freedom forever, or join the team in relative freedom, helping them catch enemies who has hurt many individuals and families like the people she was going after.

Thinking that she’s got a better chance at escaping if she’s outside, she chooses the latter.

She doesn’t warm up much to the team even after a long while, especially as she senses the girls’ lingering distrust of her. Still, after a while, she learns to enjoy the challenging job. Though she doesn’t think the rewarding feeling stems from knowing she did a good deed, as Leo suggests (her gauge of good and bad had long been broken by life), she can admit that she likes how a good day’s work help her sleep a bit better at night.

The Atlas

The Team’s HQ

located somewhere in Alaska, USA

Named by Oliver and Leo, The Atlas is the team’s base of operation. The building itself is built with a cloaking device, among many other defensive features, to prevent the team from being discovered by their enemies. Underneath it is a spacious underground port that houses a jet and a few other modes of transportation such as a car and two motorbikes.

The main headquarters contains:

the Cortex, where the team convenes and is briefed on new cases;

a fully-equipped training area;

the Vault, which houses all the gear and equipment the members will need in their assignments;

the Observatory, Leo’s laboratory and ‘classroom’;

the Triage, Oliver’s domain, ‘classroom,’ and the team’s clinic/infirmary;

the Principal’s Office, aptly named by Bree, which holds items potentially hazardous items confiscated by the team, all awaiting recovery and transport;

a state-of-the-art entertainment room; and

various rooms for each of the members, all designed and equipped to have whatever the members will need.

When not on an assignment, Delgado stays here with the five.

What Else is Different?

Since Disney XD is primarily geared towards boys, I find that they often depict female characters in one of two ways: (1) tough and kick-butt objects of desire or (2) boy-crazy, generally crazy, high-maintenance ornaments. Sadly, it seems that Bree and Skylar fell into this limiting characterization. In this version, I want to expand on who they are as people, their capabilities untied to the stereotype subtly being introduced to children through the shows. This version will feature their strengths and their weaknesses, fully fleshing all of them out, and will show how circumstances and challenges realistically mold these young men and women still adjusting into adulthood.

Uh, the girls’ hairstyles ain’t finna be the long and super styled type they oddly always were in their respective shows. Like, they’re superheroes?? While they can have long and styled hair, it’s not really practical. Or at least, I’m convinced not all of them would choose long hair. Skylar would definitely cut hers short, just a bit above her shoulders. Bree would hold on to the long hair a bit, but then she’ll cut it shorter eventually. Ran has always been practical; she knows that hair can be used against her by enemies and can be an inconvenience. So, she’s never grown it out longer than a pixie cut.

THEIR AGES, Y’ALL. Disney is so obsessed with being young that they never let these kids age ㅠㅠ When it begins, Skylar is 17, Bree is 22, Leo is 19, and Oliver is 19. Ran will be 23 when she joins the team. These children will continue to add years to their age. Getting older is just reality and none at all a shameful thing.

Relationships. We’ll talk about that on another post.

All right, that’s it for now. We’ll add more to this universe later.

[stuffandnosense]

Back To You - Chpt 5

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4

Description: Post A/L breakup after season 7, Pidge and Lance are JUST starting to, maybe, figure something out. But then a mission gone wrong leaves Pidge unable to feel emotions, unable to act on the feelings they were barely sure they had, and the condition may or may not be permanent.

***

Allura is in uniform when she emerges from the bathroom again, just pushing a final pin into her hair that’s now up. Lance is still at the table, trying to stave off the last of the shivering running through him with the blanket the princess settled around his shoulders before she went to get dressed.

“So you have everything you need now?” he asks.

“I believe so,” she says. “How are you doing?”

Lance lets out a breath and gets to his feet, leaving the blanket behind. A final shiver runs through his shoulders, but with a deep breath it seems to finally have stopped. “I’m okay. I should get out of your way. I um...just...thank you.”

She pulls him into a hug, and he isn’t going to say no to that. Not now.

“Of course,” she says.

“How much time do you need? When do you think you can try…?”

Allura shrugs as she releases him. “Soon. We’ll be arriving at the gas giant we’re planning to study later this morning; we’ll be out most of the afternoon collecting scans and samples. But perhaps tomorrow? That should give me enough time to collect my thoughts.”

“You think so?”

“I’ll speak with Pidge and her father and the doctors. Shiro as well. If everyone agrees I don’t see why not. After all, the sooner we can have Pidge back in her lion, the better.”

“Yeah…”

Allura tilts her head at him. “You should try to get some rest before we reach the gas giant.”

Lance winces. “Maybe. I’m gonna hit the showers at least.”

***

When Lance comes out of Allura’s room, it’s still relatively early. He expects to be alone in the corridor.

He isn’t. He looks up as the door closes behind him and Pidge is there, just coming out of her own room. Staring at him. His cheeks color immediately, horribly of aware of how this probably looks. He opens his mouth to say something, but she’s already turning and walking away.

“P-Pidge, wait!” He takes quick strides to catch up, reaching out as he goes. He nearly grabs her arm, but at a brush of her sleeve she turns back silently to look at him. “Pidge...th-this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“What does it look like?”

“I…” He makes a face. “Never mind. But it isn’t! I was just helping Allura—“

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to think Allura and I are...together again, or anything. It’s not like that. She had to finish looking around in my head and everything so she can help YOU.”

Pidge shrugs once. “You only recently ended your relationship with the princess; it would be reasonable of both you to want to give it another try, especially considering the current circumstances.”

“We’re not! I told you, that’s not what—circumstances?”

She’s silent for a moment before she answers him. As if assessing if it makes sense to say what she says next. “That I may never be able to return the feelings you have for me.”

Lance isn’t sure he heard that correctly. It takes him a moment to remember to breathe. “The...what? You...you know? How…?”

She faces him more fully, nodding a bit. “It’s been clear for some time now. Until what happened I was too quick to dismiss it as wishful thinking due to my own, but it’s easier to see now.”

Lance reaches out to the corridor wall for support. “Pidge…?” She knew? And she…?

“I understand that your feelings were likely what you didn’t want to tell me about last night.”

“Yeah…”

“I apologize; I seem to have upset you.”

It hurts. He should be happy. Elated. A week ago this would have been the moment he’s been waiting for for...only weeks, really, but somehow...for so much longer.

But now it just hurts. His other hand clenches at his side; part of him wants to be angry, but it isn’t her fault she’s so blunt. She’s not completely tactless even this way as it is. At least she’s apologizing for the sudden...whatever just happened.

“You’re saying...you have...had...f-feelings for me. Too. Before? And-and you knew that I—?”

“I was under the impression you were aware of it, too.”

Lance swallows. Maybe he had been. “That’s why you came last night.”

She knew. Was she trying to keep him from being hurt later? Maybe it’s only logic to her now, but it had to have come from somewhere. Thoughts or knowledge or instincts she had...before.

“Yes,” she says. “Was I not straightforward enough then?”

“No, no, you were pretty clear, I’m just…I’m just an idiot, I guess.”

Pidge raises an eyebrow. “You may not be at my level, admittedly, but you’re certainly not lacking in intelligence at all; the Garrison would never have admitted you if that were the case, and I can personally attest to your quick and creative thinking.”

Lance straightens in surprise. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said.” He laughs weakly, blinking to push back the sudden dampness in his eyes. “Pidge, I...look, I still hope we can get you back to normal soon, but there ARE a few things I kind of like about this you.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Will you be all right? I should be going. I’m meeting my dad for breakfast. He seems concerned that I might become too ‘disconnected,’ as he puts it. He’s insisted on a certain roster of social activities.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay; you should go.”

Pidge nods and heads off for the cafeteria, leaving Lance in the corridor. Not for the first time since all of this started.

But this time it hurts just a little less.

***

When Lance makes it back to the cafeteria after showering and changing, he doesn’t find many people he knows. Again. It’s too late for breakfast for most people. Again. Just like yesterday. And he hasn’t seen much of Keith and Hunk in a day or so. He isn’t sure what they’re up to.

There’s no sign of Pidge, but Sam is still here—at a table in the corner with empty dishes still spread in front of him, staring at nothing and seemingly lost in thought. But Lance knows that look. He’s seen it in the mirror enough the last couple of days.

He finds himself drifting that direction. “I thought Pidge was meeting you here earlier.”

Sam blinks up at him, as if surprised to be interrupted. “Oh, she did. She left not long ago to get back to her lab; I’m just...here,” he sighs.

“Oh.” Lance knows that feeling, too. This Pidge doesn’t mean to hurt anyone; she’s just straightforward, focused. Sometimes the things she says without thinking can be good, but sometimes not. How quickly she moves on to the next thing on her list can hurt, too. “I uh...mind if I join you?”

Sam gives him a brittle smile. “Of course not.”

Lance slides onto the bench across from him and eats in silence at first. Sam seems more comfortable going back to staring off somewhere, and for a while that’s best for both of them.

“Katie told me about your run-in this morning.”

Lance freezes with a bite of waffle halfway to his mouth. His hand falls back to the table. “She knew,” he says quietly. “I mean I should have known she knew; we kind of all...knew, I guess. I know you did…” He trails off and winces when he realizes he’s rambling.

“Sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this whole thing is for you; I don’t want to add to that. Just...ignore me.”

“I brought it up.” Sam leans over his arms on the table. “Lance, when I told you you were family, I meant it. That doesn’t just apply to raiding my refrigerator during midnight gaming sessions with my daughter. You can talk to me. Or I hope you feel like you can, anyway.”

Lance manages to answer this time; he couldn’t a week ago. “Thank you…”

“Besides,” Sam says. “Who else am ‘I’ going to talk to out here? No one other than you kids...no one else on this ship cares about her as much as I do.” He winces. “You’re her family too. You understand.”

“I...yeah. Yeah. You can talk at me as much as you want.”

***

There are a couple of hours of downtime before the mission, and Lance isn’t sure what to do with them. He heads back to his quarters, thinking maybe he should take Allura’s advice and try to get some more rest, but when he rounds the corner Keith and Hunk are outside his door as if they were looking for him.

“There he is…” Keith says.

“Guys? What are you doing? Where have you been, anyway?” Both of them are in rumpled uniforms. “You don’t look much more awake than me..”

“We’re definitely not,” Hunk snorts. “Anyway, come on; you need to see something.”

“Like what?”

They drag him to Hunk’s workshop, where no fewer than five computers are working and bits of disemboweled technology are strewn everywhere. He recognizes a few small pieces from the planet where Pidge was poisoned.

“What have you been doing in here?”

Hunk shrugs. “Trying to decipher as much as we can from the chips and stuff we managed to grab from that planet before we had to high-tail it back to the lions. And I’m telling you even with MY skills and Pidge’s translation algorithms it has NOT been easy, but…”

Keith sighs. “Remember what I said? Back in the infirmary?”

“Not really; there’s kind of been a lot going on.”

“About...why a civilization might have tried to create something that would do what that toxin did to Pidge.”

Lance blinks, but he can’t remember anything specific. He’s just...too tired. He shakes his head. “I don’t, what?”

“That maybe it wasn’t a weapon. Maybe they were trying to do it to themselves.”

Lance makes a face. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

“The Vulcans purposefully created a society where they suppressed all emotion the majority of the time…” Keith trails off at they stare at him. “What?”

Hunk snickers. “Okay, A) they’re fictional, and B) you watched Star Trek?”

“My dad had a child with an alien; what else was he going to watch with me!”

“Okay, guys?” Lance asks tiredly. “As much as I’d love to debate Kirk or Picard—”

“Kirk. Obviously,” Keith huffs.

“Mullet, my brain is literally going to explode if you don’t stop.”

Hunk makes waving motions to get their attention. “Yeah. Could we not explode Lance? Okay listen. Actually, from what we’ve been able to decode, I think this species may have been telepathic.”

***

“Telepathic?” Allura says. Half a varga later and they’ve dragged her to the workshop to go over it all again.

“Yeah,” Hunk sighs. “The details we’ve been able to make out are sketchy, but it’s like...they were trying to stop war from happening or something. They...fused their science and their telepathy and...made this stuff. Somehow.”

Lance’s stomach is twisting with anxiety. There’s more to it than that--pieces of detail here and there Hunk and Keith pointed out to him earlier. Failed versions of the experiment. Mentions of the wars that led to it. The thought processes of those behind it. Even after everything that had happened, to plan to do that to their own people...

“Sorry, reading alien languages isn’t really my specialty,” Hunk is telling Allura. “If you and Pidge helped we could probably get more of it, but we wanted to find out if any of this stuff was useful to begin with.”

Allura leans over the desk, studying the strewn data pads. “It’s all right, Hunk. This is helpful already; it’s only...now I’m concerned. Telepathy does not necessarily mean magic, but it could. And that might explain how the toxin survived thousands of years. But in either case, what they seem to be saying here about their telepathy...using it to fuel the experiment…”

“It means it might not be just a medical or mental problem that needs to be fixed,” Lance says with a wince. “Doesn’t it?”

“Correct…” Allura rests a hand on his arm briefly. “But I will still try tomorrow, as we’ve planned. This does not have to mean that helping Pidge will be more difficult. I am somewhat concerned because it may, but this does not mean it has to.”

***

“You seem distracted.”

Lance sighs and punches up another scan display to be sure the data is recording correctly and they’re on the course Pidge plotted for them. Behind him, Pidge is cross-legged on the floor of Red’s cockpit with her computers.

“Because I am,” he says. “I mean, if I’m gonna do it I guess this is a good mission to do it on. Pretty straightforward. Collect the samples. Scan the...stuff. Anyway.” Lance squints out Red’s front dash at the gas giant and the colorful nebula that surrounds it. Coran had been going on about it having some interesting properties or something.

“I used to get so excited every time we saw something like this. Like...when I first got into the Garrison I felt like I was never really sure I’d make it through the program and ever get to go to space in the first place, and then I was seeing stuff like this every day. Now I’m just...it’s almost like it doesn’t matter. Is that bad?”

He glances back at Pidge, who raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re not the best person to be asking that right now, I know.”

She shrugs. “It’s perfectly normal for the human brain to become accustomed to certain things.”

“Yeah, but...nevermind.” He sighs. Maybe it’s because he’s still anxious about tomorrow. But she knows, now, and she’s agreed, but of course she isn’t…

“Lance?”

He doesn’t mean to flinch. But the way she says his name is as close to normal as she’s sounded since all of this began.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you all right?” It’s not asked in the same way she would usually ask it. It’s a mechanical question. Habit.

“Yeah. I mean...no. No exactly.” He lets out a breath. “Hey. Did you…? Did you mean what you said this morning?” The ache in his gut twists, asking him why he’s asking that. Does he just want to hurt MORE? But…

“I have no reason to lie to you,” Pidge says, barely looking up from her screens.

He swallows, even as a strange warmth floods through him. “Then...I mean how do you know that? How you felt, I mean. Before this happened. What’s…? What’s that like?”

Now she picks her head up, thoughtful. “I don’t know that I could explain it to you; you don’t have an adequate frame of reference.”

“Humor me.”

She goes quiet for a moment. “My memories aren’t impaired,” she says, slowly. “Of course I remember having feelings. And why I had them. But thinking about them now, I can be objective. I don’t have an emotional reaction to remembering the reactions I had then. I don’t know if that’s helpful.”

“A little, maybe. But anyway, you’re still okay with Allura fixing it?”

“It’s what’s best for Voltron.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“For me, it does,” Pidge says. “That’s also part of it. What matters to me, without emotion as a factor, is what is objectively better for the most people.”

Lance sighs. “You matter too, Pidge. Even Spock figured that one out eventually.”

“Isn’t it true that you would prefer for me to be the way I was?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Pidge is quiet for a moment. She goes back to her computers, and Lance thinks that might be it until she speaks up again.

“Then I want that as well.”

Lance looks back, attention pulled away from his scans again. “What?”

She isn’t looking at him, but she elaborates. “Or perhaps I should say I’m aware that I should. If my past feelings are any indication, I would have wanted that. If I were to accept your premise that my personal opinion on the matter is also important—which I am not saying I have accepted—I would have to concede that I should want this change corrected as well.”

Lance smiles weakly. “Well that’s something, I guess.”

His Pidge is in there. Somewhere.

***

“Hey, man, did you sleep at ALL last night?” Hunk asks.

Lance thinks about lying, but his friend’s hand is at his back, pressing in and warm, and he doesn’t have the heart to do it. “I uh...no. Not even a little.”

He’s afraid he looks it, too. His meticulous routine has gone by the wayside since the accident. He ran a comb through his hair this morning and his uniform is technically clean, but he doesn’t want to guess how large the bags under his eyes might be.

He feels cold and achy with exhaustion. Like reality isn’t real. But maybe, in a little while, everything will make sense again.

They’re all here. Crowded into a room in the infirmary in case anything goes wrong. Allura and Pidge on the edge of the examination bed. Sam at his daughter’s side and Shiro beside his old friend. Coran, Keith, Hunk, Veronica...they’re all here. Allura started a few minutes ago and she warned them it might take a while and…

Waiting is hard.

Hunk rubs Lance’s back as if trying to massage away the exhaustion, maybe just because none of them really have anything to do anyway. Lance is almost afraid he’ll fall asleep on his feet if Hunk keeps it up, but it’s nice. And If it keeps Hunk distracted, well. He’s not gonna take that away from him.

A few more minutes, and Hunk is just clinging to him. Probably as anxious as he is.

Allura opens her eyes. “I...I know what it is.”

She doesn’t look happy about it. Why doesn’t she look happy?

“Allura?” Sam asks.

She swallows. Her fingers have not left Pidge’s temples, and the soft blue glow hasn’t died away, but it dims as she redirects some of her concentration to talk to them.

“It’s...it isn’t a physical problem. Some of it may be manifesting physically in the form of the clouded areas we’ve seen on scans, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is telepathic. Hunk and Keith’s findings were correct...somehow this species was able to infuse telepathy and quite possibly magic into a physical toxin.”

Sam shifts closer to Pidge. “What does that mean…?”

No…

“It means...I don’t have the tools needed to fix this. I-I have magic, but I am not a true telepath. I know enough to nearly understand what is wrong...to find the telepathic barrier that’s been put in place, but...I can’t remove it. Not alone.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Lance says. “You can do this. I know this isn’t Voltron, but you can do it. You...you always can…”

“Lance, it isn’t about power, or believing. I don’t have the right ‘type’ of power.” She looks at Sam, too, and Pidge, who has opened her eyes. “I am so sorry...perhaps if we found a powerful enough telepath…”

Lance doesn’t realize he’s swaying backwards until Hunk’s arm is pressing into his back again, keeping him upright.

“Easy, buddy…” Hunk says quietly. His voice is tight, and Lance doesn’t blame him. His head is spinning.

“Thank you, for trying,” Sam is saying. He sounds sincere, but dull. Pained.

“Wait,” Allura says suddenly. “There is one thing I may be able to do now. If Pidge will allow it.”

“What?” Pidge asks.

“I...Lance may be right. I may not be able to remove the barrier because I am not a telepath, but I do have magic. I do have a certain amount of power, and it counts for something. I may be able to...lift the edge, for lack of a better term. Temporarily negate the effects.” She winces. “Very temporarily. Only for a few moments, most likely. But…”

The room seems to take a collective breath at that.

Pidge shrugs slightly. “I’ll allow that if anyone wants it.”

Of course they do. They all do. But Lance leaves it her father to say so. Allura nods and nudges for Pidge to shift to face out on the edge of the infirmary bed. Allura shifts back, carefully changing the position of her fingers without entirely breaking some kind of contact, so that she’s reaching around Pidge’s head from the back instead of the front.

“It will be easier for the others this way,” Allura says, when Pidge looks at her quizzically.  

They settle, and Allura and Sam are already crying silently before Allura even does anything else. Lance isn’t sure how he’s breathing.

Pidge closes her eyes as the glow from Allura’s hands brightens again. As Allura closes her own to concentrate. But Lance can still see the moment when something changes. When Pidge’s face scrunches in confusion and then a kind of pain.

Her first breath after that is a sob. “Dad…?” Her eyes fly open and she’s reaching out for Sam. “Dad…! Oh god, oh god…!” he pulls her in closer, wrapping her up in his arms as tight as it looks like he can without breaking Allura’s hold on her temples.

“Katie…”

“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not, Katie.”

“I-I don’t want to be like that anymore! I’m not ME, I...i-it’s so wrong…” She sniffs into his coat. “I love you, Dad. I love all of you…”

“We know.” Sam stands back from her to let the others close. Shiro, Hunk, even Keith goes in for a quick hug, while they can, while Lance is rooted where he stands trying to breathe.

His face is already wet. Of course it is. By the time Pidge finds him and meets his eyes he’s crying, and he really wishes he could have done better but he can’t. He can’t do it. He’s shaking and he can’t help that, either. Not even when she reaches out first from where she sits, and takes his hand.

“Lance…”

“Pidge,” he gasps.

Her eyes are wide with the fear of how little time they have now. “Kiss me.”

Lance doesn’t have time to question her. Or to think about the fact that Sam and Allura and Shiro and the others are there and looking at them. He ducks forward, cupping her face with his free hands and pressing his lips to hers. Uncertain at first, but she tugs him in closer by the front of his shirt.

He sobs against her cheek when the kiss has ended. “We’re not giving up. I-I’ll never…”

“I know,” Pidge whispers.

Lance all but stumbles backward, giving Sam the space to have another moment before Allura has to stop. Before she can’t do it anymore.

“I love you,” Pidge is saying to Sam again. “Please...please t-tell Mom, and Matt. I...just in case I-I can’t...I…”

“Katie…” Sam leans down to look into her eye, taking her shoulders in his hands. “Katie, listen to me. Love isn’t just a feeling. Remember that. It’s a choice. Even if you can’t have these flighty things we call emotions, you can still choose to care for someone - to...to count their well-being as important, or to protect them or...you see?”

“I-I do right now; I hope I will when—“ She cuts off in a sob. “Dad, I’m scared.”

Sam pulls her in again, and Allura is trembling. Running out of energy. Pidge buries her face in her father’s jacket.

Allura all but collapses when she lets go. Coran is there to catch her. Faintly Lance thinks he should have been there, too, but he feels like he might collapse, himself. Hunk is crying beside him, but it’s still his friend keeping him upright, really.

Pidge is the only one of them who doesn’t look upset, of course. As she sits up and unburies her face. She looks around at them all her eyebrows go up.

“I’m the cause of all this. I should apologize.”

Sam sobs quietly and wraps himself around her again. She doesn’t bother to return the embrace this time, but at least she doesn’t seem to have anything against it. “No...it’s not your fault.”

Lance doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hunk is still crying and Keith looks unsure, too. Shiro is looking at them. All of them. Probably trying to decide who might need him more, because that’s just Shiro, but right now Lance...can’t.

He starts to back away from everyone and Hunk calms enough to ask after him. “Lance? Man?” he asks weakly.

“I-I’m just...gonna…” He turns for the door, and something about the movement hurts. In his head. How long since his head started hurting again? Or did it really ever stop?

He reaches out for the doorframe, suddenly dizzy. He knows his other hand goes to press at his head and he can vaguely hear one or two of the others calling his name, but they’re so far away now…

Then the floor is getting very close very fast, and someone is grabbing at him, but everything goes black before Lance can find out who.

Read Chpt 6 >>

[storiesofwildfire]

A Quest for Peace

          { @vanirbound -- yet another long, plotted starter for the God Loki wants to lick always. ‘I licked him, so he’s mine,’ he says! }

♔—- Many, many years passed since the first time Loki realized that Asgard was not for him. While the glittering cities and prosperous protectors of the Nine Realms had a beautiful ring to their accomplishments and an equally pleasing aesthetic, what rested beneath the surface was something much, much darker. Loki tasted the first bitterness on his tongue at a relatively young age. 

The realm would never accept his magic, his unique outlook on life, his desire to break free of responsibilities so he could travel, explore, and learn, his love of staying in and studying rather than fighting amongst the other boys. Loki’s inability to conform to their norms increasingly rubbed people the wrong way, to the point that every single characteristic that defined him developed into something that could be used as a weapon against him.

Too mischievous. Too feminine. Too reliant on magic. Too emotional. Too cold when refusing to open up because he was too emotional. Too rebellious. Too observant. Too irresponsible yet trying too hard to be valuable. Too desperate for positive attention. Too weak.

Too unable to be what Asgard demanded him to be while constantly trying to be his best for Asgard.

No matter what Loki did, no matter what he sacrificed for his people, no matter how much of himself he gave, it was never enough. Not for his father, not for his peers, and not even for himself. Every time he deserved praise, he was met with criticism instead or worse, someone else took the credit for his job well done. 

Loki gave everything he had to Asgard and his people had no idea how much he sacrificed, how much he went through the ensure their safety, how much he bottled up his own feelings and fears just to keep his magic at bay so it didn’t hurt someone ridiculing him. Honestly, it hurt more than he ever let on, to put so much effort into protecting and helping his realm prosper, just to be kicked back down again for having the strength to speak up. 

The worst part, though, by far? No one actually saw it for what it was. No one acknowledged that the way the second prince was treated was inherently wrong, that they should rethink the way they saw the young royal, but why would they? Every single Aesir who misspoke or talked down to him had been given silent permission by watching the way Odin evaluated and treated his own son.

For hundreds of years, this was just a way of life for Loki, a norm that he sometimes escaped from but was inevitably trapped in. It only ever occurred to him that he could leave Asgard behind forever once when he’d fallen in love with a young and exceptional woman on Midgard by the name of Vera. An oracle who channeled Loki through herself and performed nothing short of miracles for her people, the moment he met her, he knew he’d known her for years already and fell in love far more quickly than he ever managed again. She gave him the self-awareness and the confidence to leave his old life behind, but she, ultimately, was the reason he stayed.

She said she couldn’t be the reason he abandoned his Godly position and the responsibilities that went with it, that he was far more important than one relationship with one mortal, and he kept telling himself every time he wanted to run that he had to be strong. Vera believed in him. Others followed her lead. So many people prayed to him, worshipped him, turned to him in their time of need, and if all of those people could follow after him even when he often felt so run down and defeated, surely he could stick it out?

Everything changed the night Loki conceived Sleipnir.

Relations with Vanaheim grew more and tenser. The Vanir had beaten Asgard back time and time again and Odin grew fearful of what they would do should they come back to Asgard. One of the many defenses that the council came up with was to build a protective fortress around the realm, specifically Gladsheim, the capital that housed not only the royal palace but the Bifrost as well. 

The finest builder in all of Yggdrasil had been contracted, but his price was higher than any of the Gods were willing to pay, so a scheme had been devised. The builder had to work alone and quickly. A harsh deadline gave him an impossible window to finish construction and if he did not meet it, he would have to finish the project without payment. The builder, much to everyone’s shock, agreed and much to everyone’s horror, the one asset he was allowed to have made progress go so swiftly, he projected to finish one day ahead of schedule.

A schedule in which he tightly kept.

Of course, when things grew difficult, the Aesir formed a habit of looking to Loki. His schemes and wit made him perfect for problem-solving. Even if he never received any of the praise, Loki stood as a powerful and irreplaceable asset to Asgard’s longevity and, like he’d done many times before, Loki bowed his head and agreed to sort out the problems.

The night he departed to halt the builder’s progress turned out to be one of the worst and most humiliating nights of his life. He never did share the details of what happened that night. The most anyone got was that he shape-shifted into a beautiful and enticing mare that managed to distract Svadilfari, the builder’s workhorse who moved all of his supplies for him. Without Svadilfari, the builder had no hopes of finishing his project on time. 

Loki succeeded in keeping the stallion busy, but Loki hadn’t succeeded in keeping a safe distance from Svadilfari. Even Loki underestimated how quickly such a massive horse could move--

Without going into vivid details, Loki wound up carrying and birthing an eight-legged foal. The pregnancy on its own had been traumatic physically and emotionally, the events leading up to the pregnancy had been traumatic and humiliating in ways even Loki’s silver-tongue could not adequately explain, but the worst part of the entire experience? Rather than return home and have a father who wanted to take care of his child after such a horrible event, Odin hid Loki away, isolated the prince, and kept the people of Asgard in the dark of Loki’s situation.

Loki was not allowed to let anyone know that he mothered the foal. Loki was not allowed to let anyone know that Sleipnir was more than just a horse, that he was actually a sentient being with a mind and magic of his own. Loki was not even allowed to protest Odin taking Sleipnir from him and grooming him to become a war steed.

Rather than love Loki, care for him, and help him with a situation that never would have happened had Odin not sent Loki out, to begin with, Loki faced isolation, a pregnancy that likely could have been fatal, and the shame of being told it was all his fault, all while having his child stripped from him as if Sleipnir was nothing more than an untrained pet that pissed on the carpet one too many times.

That stood out as a true turning point for Loki. Odin couldn’t understand why Loki found so much hatred and ill will in how he decided to handle the situation and Sleipnir, didn’t understand why Loki had any sort of maternal instincts in regards to an animal, and repeatedly shouldered the idea that the result had been nothing but shameful down onto Loki to carry the weight.

No love. No sympathy. No encouragement.

Gods, Odin hardly even allowed Asmund to tend to his physical state, and part of the young prince truly wondered... Would Odin have preferred if Loki did die in childbirth? Would that have alleviated something for the king? Made his life easier in some way? 

Either way, Loki accepted that Odin had no true love or respect for him and, in turn, any lingering love that he possessed for his so-called father vanished. Loki wanted Sleipnir and he wanted to leave. Whatever misfortunes led to Sleipnir’s birth, Loki loved his son, and placed no personal blame on a blameless child. 

But Loki hadn’t even fully recovered from the birth when talk of new negotiations between Asgard and Vanaheim cropped up. Strange, Loki thought, considering the whole point of the fortress was to protect them from Vanaheim... Seemed everything he went through meant nothing, as Odin still cowered in the face of the Vanir.

Loki didn’t bother himself with the negotiations or trying to keep up with what went on. He was still in the tail end of recovery, still mourning over his son being ripped from him, still kept separated from most of Asgard, and still contemplating murdering Odin himself for what he’d done to him. Time and energy to invest in keeping up with negotiations he wouldn’t even be part of wasn’t in the cards.

At least, he believed he would have no part in it.

Until Asmund, his healer, and Sigurd, Odin’s advisor, and Loki’s biggest supporter, came to see him. Asmund was a pretty normal face to see as he had been one of the few consistently allowed to be with Loki during the pregnancy. Sigurd, on the other hand, only got to see the prince when he snuck in to share a few words.

Both tried to cover up the worry etched into their solemn faces as they came to the young Godling, who sat propped up by a number of plush pillows attempting (and failing) to busy himself by reading.

Loki glanced over the top edge of his book, his lips instantly tugging south when he got a good look at them. Their worry and nervousness poured off of them, filling the air with sparks of uneasy magic. “What is it?” Loki asked, closing the book without marking his page and setting it off on the side of the mattress. 

Asmund came over immediately and sat beside the taller-yet-younger sorcerer. He took one of Loki’s hands into his soft, skilled healer hands, closing both of them around Loki’s. Loki allowed the action. Asmund stood as one of the few who could get away with touching Loki in even the tensest and uncomfortable of circumstances. There were few Loki trusted more than his healer, but the gesture filled the prince with worry.

“Has something happened to Sleipnir?” Loki asked. “Is he okay?”

“Sleipnir’s fine, for the time being, Loki,” Sigurd assured him. “I have some of my best keeping track of him to ensure Odin doesn’t do any harm.” The shadowmancer walked over to the bed and sat down as well. “We’ve come to talk to you about negotiations with Vanaheim.”

“Oh.” Loki’s tone fell flat. He didn’t care and his change of voice mixed with the dropped expression said that loud and clear, making his next statement completely redundant. “I really have no interest in that. I have more important things to worry about.”

“We know,” Asmund and Sigurd said in unison.

“But Odin has managed to come to something of an agreement on the terms of peace,” Sigurd continued. “I spoke out against this idea openly. Odin more or less told me that he understood I favored you, but he would not listen to my attempts at shielding you from something so important to Asgard.”

“W-what... do you mean...?” Loki murmured, fear creeping back into his voice again. “What do I have to do with anything of that?”

Asmund and Sigurd exchanged a glance, silently searching on another’s expressions. Asmund tilted his head towards Loki and Sigurd sighed, nodding his quiet approval. Sigurd might have been the head of a spy network and wildly intelligent, but matters of the heart were more up Asmund’s alley. 

“Odin has proposed the idea of an arranged marriage to bind Asgard and Vanaheim,” Asmund murmured. “He will be getting himself a new bride and, in return, he will be marrying off one of his sons to the Vanir chief. You, Little One. He wants you to marry Heimdall, the Chief of the Vanir, in exchange for peace.”

Loki’s heart thrashed in his chest, though if it was fear, desperation, or anger, he couldn’t really tell. “He’s going to sell me? After everything he’s done to me, everything he’s put me through, and he’s just going to turn around and throw me to our enemies?”

“I know,” Asmund murmured, lifting Loki’s hand so he could kiss the back of his palm and then another gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist, a trait common to the Vanir as a sign of showing respects to one’s magic, but Asmund was not of Vanaheim. “Many have tried to talk reason into him, but he will see none. He is convinced this is the only way.”

“I’m not old enough to get married...”

That wasn’t much of an argument, he realized. He’d just had a child, for the love of the Nine. If he could have a child, he could get married, and even without motherhood, plenty of arranged marriages rooted back far younger than Loki presently was, so even forming in childhood.

“I can’t...”

“Heimdall wants to speak with you,” Sigurd almost whispered, reaching over to take Loki’s free hand. “He said that he would agree to Odin’s terms, but only if he got to speak with you first and give you a chance to decide for yourself. While Vanaheim may be our enemies, I do not believe Heimdall to be a malicious man. He does not want to do anything without your consent and without you understanding the full perimeters of what will happen should you accept his... proposal. While this may not be ideal, he does want to make this as easy and as genuinely your own free will as possible.”

“How is it free will? Just because this Heimdall person is giving me a choice doesn’t mean I actually have one. What will happen to Asgard if I say no? What will Odin do to me if I say no?”

“I’ll admit, you--” Sigurd began, but Asmund immediately shook his head, silencing the elder sorcerer immediately. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, all right, Little One? Speak with Heimdall. Hear what he has to say. You don’t have to meet with him alone if you do not wish. You know we’ll be right by your side if you ask. Speak with him, then you can make a decision, and we’ll take it from there, okay?”

Loki lifted his eyes to Asmund, the emerald color glistening under the threat of tears. The poor, young prince was so exhausted, still desperately trying to get back on his feet, and dealing with so much emotional shit, piling something like this on top of him was enough to make even the strongest of people crack. Of course, he wanted to cry.

“If I go to Vanaheim... will you come with me?” he asked Asmund, knowing fully well that no matter how much he may wish for Sigurd to be with him, Sigurd’s role was far too important to abandon for the whims of a boy separated from his home. Asmund, though? His entire life had been dedicated to Loki’s care and growth. He would come, surely he would...

“If I am allowed to,” Asmund promised. “That will be up to Heimdall, though, I’m afraid.” Asmund dropped Loki’s hand in exchange for wrapping his arms around the mischief-maker. Loki trembled lightly in his arms, fighting so hard to keep from sobbing right then and there. Asmund squeezed him as tightly as he could, reaching up to card his fingers through Loki’s long, thick hair. “It’s all right, Loki. It’s okay. I’m right here. Shhh, I’m here.”

Sigurd watched in silence, allowing Loki to take his hand back so he could wrap his arms around Asmund, both hands fisting his shirt. The advisor’s heart broke at the sight as Loki slowly broke down in his healer’s arms, tears finally slipping down his cheeks. For several long minutes, the three sat in silence, Sigurd’s hand resting firmly on Loki’s knee while Asmund hugged him tightly. 

“Just get it out, Loki, it’s okay,” Asmund kept whispering encouragements, but Loki was honestly tired of crying, of feeling so broken, beaten down, and defeated. 

Only once the sounds of Loki’s quiet sobs calmed did Sigurd dare speak again. “I know you are upset, Loki, and I cannot blame you for that, but will you speak with Heimdall? He would like to see you as soon as possible.”

“We won’t leave you alone with him if you are uncomfortable with that,” Asmund reminded him.

Loki could only really manage a nod, but what other choice did he have but to accept the chief’s request. Sigurd gave him a melancholy smile and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the prince’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit with him then,” Sigurd murmured. “Sit tight.”

With that, Sigurd pushed himself from the bed and disappeared through the massive golden doors that led to Loki’s private chambers, off to fetch Heimdall. The Vanir chief waited patiently for him to return.

“He’s agreed to see you,” Sigurd spoke. “I do ask that you be gentle. Asmund and I have delivered the news of the workings of this arranged marriage already. He’s digesting it, but he is understandably upset. He is also recovering from a very brutal pregnancy, so hormones and paranoia are running high right now. I ask you to be mindful and to show some compassion as you speak with him. If you want him to agree to this willingly, you have to make him understand you are not going to hurt or misuse him. You have to make Vanaheim sound appealing to him and, between you and me, it shouldn’t take much. Vanaheim would be a much better place for the prince.”

Sigurd didn’t want to see Loki sold off as some sort of bride for peace, but at the same time, he had to admit, getting Loki off of Asgard and somewhere he could truly grow and prosper would be the best possible thing for Loki. 

Vanaheim could give him that.

[lady-hammerlock]

Trust Fall (Telltale Batjokes)

Note: Contains vague spoilers for ‘What Ails You.’ The full story is available under the cut. It’s also just a little nsfw in spots.

TRUST FALL

Bruce tugged at the fabric binding his wrists together. John had left it pretty loose; loose enough that Bruce was sure he could easily escape if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to escape though. That would defeat the purpose of the whole thing.

He and John had been through a lot over the past few days. There were still issues on both sides that hadn’t been fully resolved; past hurts and frustrations and trust issues that needed to be sorted out if the two of them were ever going to work together with any amount of harmony.

And so John had suggested this little ‘trust exercise’.

“We take turns,” John had said. “One of us gets tied up and blindfolded, and for the next ten minutes the other person can do whatever they want to them. You know, take their frustrations out in whatever way they want.”

Bruce wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea, but John seemed determined, and if he thought this might help to strengthen their relationship then Bruce was willing to give it a shot.

“Oh, and whatever happens,” John had added only once Bruce had already agreed to the idea. “We can’t hold a grudge or get angry at each other for whatever happens while we’re blindfolded, all right?”

John looked up at him then, eyes pleading and full of hope, and Bruce really didn’t have it in him to disagree, not when John was looking at him like that.

“All right,” he said. “I promise. No grudges.”

He was reasonably sure that John wouldn’t hurt him too badly anyway, and well, if John did hit him a couple of times then Bruce really wouldn’t be able to blame him for it; not after everything they had been through; not after all the hurt that Bruce had unwittingly caused.

John had insisted that Bruce be blindfolded first. Bruce wasn’t sure why, but he had agreed to it nevertheless; partially because this whole exercise was making him nervous, and getting the worst part of it out of the way as soon as possible seemed like a good idea, and partially because the one thing that he planned to do to John while John was blindfolded was the sort of thing that might make his partner not want to be around him ever again. Bruce was sure that John had meant his promise not to hold a grudge, but that didn’t mean he would still want to be Bruce’s friend, not after this.

“You all right there buddy?” John asked.

Bruce looked up at him. The other man was holding one of Bruce’s ties in his hands; a dark purple thing that Bruce never really wore and which the two of them had agreed to use as a blindfold, and Bruce felt his throat going dry as he thought of John tying it around his head and temporarily blinding him.

“I’m fine,” Bruce said.

“You sure?” John asked. “You don’t look fine. You know what? We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. Heck, we don’t have to do this at all.”

John let out a low chuckle then. The sort of chuckle Bruce knew was a sure sign his partner was nervous.

“It’s fine,” he said. It would have to be fine. He had already made up his mind that he was going to go through with the exercise. “I trust you John.”

Those three words had come to mean so very much to both of them, and John froze for a moment, staring down in wonder at Bruce, before nodding.

“Okay,” he said, before smiling at Bruce and leaning forward.

Bruce took a deep breath as John’s hands moved around to the back of Bruce’s head. Everything went dark as John tied the makeshift blindfold tightly in place.

“All right,” John said as he pulled back. “You all good there buddy? Not too uncomfortable?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said again.

He trusted John. He did, but that didn’t stop the dark and the relative helplessness of the situation being absolutely terrifying.

Bruce listened closely to the other man as John fiddled around with his phone for a moment.

“There we go,” John said, and Bruce listened to what he thought must have been the sound of John putting his phone back down on the floor. “Ten minutes.”

Everything went silent then.

Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the first blow to come. He waited for John to punish him for everything that he had done; to punish him for lying, and for using John, and for not being there for John when he should have been.

But the blow never came. Instead he felt a weight settle on top of his legs, and he realized after a moment that John had actually climbed on top of him and was sitting in his lap. John was even lighter than he looked, and far from being uncomfortable, having John’s weight in his lap seemed right, and for a moment Bruce wanted nothing more than to slip the bindings around his wrists and wrap his arms around the other man and hold him close.

Bruce stayed perfectly still though, still and silent as he waited for John to take out his vengeance. John could still do anything to him, and the knowledge was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

Long, soft fingers reached out; John’s hands brushing over Bruce’s clothed stomach with a feather-light touch. They moved around, always teasingly light, almost as though searching for something, mapping out the lines of Bruce’s torso as though memorizing each and every one of them.

They danced up and down Bruce’s side, searching for something, until they reached a sensitive point on Bruce’s back that caused a brief giggle to emerge from Bruce’s throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he gasped, having failed to keep the laughter back. “But that tickles.”

He had barely finished speaking when John’s fingers danced over that particular spot on Bruce’s back again. Another burst of laughter emerged from Bruce’s throat, and it was in that moment he realized exactly what John was doing.

Tickle torture? It wasn’t nearly as horrible as anything that Bruce had been imagining.

Bruce had never been particularly ticklish, but John’s fingertips searched every inch of Bruce’s chest and arms, questing in the crook of his elbows and the curve of his neck, seeking out every single sensitive spot he could find and attacking them with merciless precision.

Before long Bruce was a giggling wreck, and he couldn’t help but squirm a little as John’s hands travelled down towards his lower back and then up to his shoulder blades. Occasionally he would hear John let out a cackle in reply to his own bursts of laughter as well.

He was tempted to cry out and beg for John to stop, but he forced himself not to. This was the kindest punishment Bruce could imagine, and he would gladly let John tickle him without complaint for hours if John thought that was what was needed to fix their friendship.

After a few minutes the tickling stopped, and John’s hands came to rest on the flat of Bruce’s stomach once more. His fingertips fluttered around for a moment, and Bruce braced himself for the next round of tickling.

John was clearly doing something, but Bruce had no idea what. He could feel John’s fingers occasionally brushing gently against him; could feel the fabric of his shirt moving a little. It wasn’t until John undid the second button that Bruce realized John was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way up.

Too many of his more guilty fantasies of late had included John undressing him, and Bruce’s breath hitched in his throat as all sorts of erotic suggestions as to what John intended to do to him came to mind. Bruce told himself not to get too excited, and tried to focus on keeping his now pounding and erratic heartbeat under control. If he wasn’t careful then his body was going to betray him and give away the less than innocent aspects of his affection for John.

He wanted those hands on him; wanted to feel John touching him without the fabric of his shirt getting in the way, but he had not allowed himself to admit that to anyone but himself, and he was sure that whatever John was about to do to him, sex would have no place in it.

John finished unbuttoning Bruce’s shirt, and Bruce tensed as he waited to find out what John was going to do next. He expecting more tickling. He craved, but didn’t dare to even hope for something more intimate.

John’s hands opened Bruce’s shirt, exposing his chest. Bruce heard the other man’s breath catch, and then John’s hands were on him again, their touch still almost painfully feather-light.

One of John’s hands settled on the intricate pattern of pale lines that snaked across Bruce’s chest, originating at his left shoulder and stretching down over his arm and chest; a painful gift from Lady Arkham the year before. The other found a crescent shaped scar that Bane had left on him only a week earlier.

John’s fingers moved all over Bruce’s chest, mapping out every single one of his scars, always so gentle, almost reverential in the way they traced their shapes.

John’s phone let out a single, quiet ‘beep’.

“Only one minute left, huh?” John murmured, sounding rather sad.

Bruce wondered whether John realized that so far he hadn’t done anything that Bruce wouldn’t have allowed him to do under perfectly normal circumstances, if only John had asked. He wondered whether he should have given explanations for each of the scars that John lingered on; whether John would have appreciated that.

He readied himself to explain whichever scar John’s hands found next, but John surprised him again by leaning forwards and wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce. John held him as close as he could, their chests pressed flush against one another, and nuzzled into Bruce’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for the remaining minute, John’s breath warm against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce wished with all of his might that he could move his arms, wrap them around John and hold him close. He didn’t want this moment to ever end, even if that meant keeping the blindfold and the restraints. His whole world had narrowed down to the smell and feel and sound of John against him; his warmth, the feeling of John’s soft hair as it brushed against Bruce’s cheek, and the soft, comforting sound of John’s steady breathing.

When the alarm on John’s phone went off, it felt like someone was slowly trying to tear Bruce’s heart out through his chest. John groaned, as though he was just as sorry that the ten minutes were up as Bruce was, and Bruce felt the other man’s weight leaving his lap, and then, after a couple of seconds, the alarm fell silent.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Bruce said as John reached out to untie the blindfold. “You know that, right?”

“No, I did,” John replied. “I have to give you your turn as well, otherwise this isn’t fair.”

Within moments John had untied Bruce’s hands as well.

Bruce got to his feet, wondering whether he should wrap his arms around John and continue the hug. John had sat down in the chair before Bruce could make up his mind however, and Bruce once again felt that sinking feeling in his chest, as though he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping out of his grasp.

“Okay buddy,” John said, his hands already clasped together at the back of the chair. “Tie me up.”

John was putting up a brave front, but Bruce could tell that he was scared. Apparently he was just as nervous and eager to get this part over and done with as Bruce had been.

Bruce tied the other man’s hands behind his back, leaving even more give than John had given him and making sure that John wouldn’t be any more uncomfortable than was absolutely necessary.

When Bruce came back round to John’s front, tie in hand, John let out a brief, nervous cackle. Bruce leaned in and placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

“You know that I’m not going to hurt you, right?” he asked John.

John’s laughter stopped, and he stared up at Bruce with one raised eyebrow, his mouth open in confusion. Bruce had seen that look before. Somehow it always managed to make him feel like an idiot.

“You’re not supposed to spoil the surprise of it like that Bruce,” John said. “But well… I mean…”

He took a deep breath and then smiled up at Bruce.

“I trust you,” he said, before winking at Bruce.

Bruce smiled back and then leaned in close to tie the makeshift blindfold around John’s eyes. He leaned down and reset the timer on John’s phone before standing back up and observing his partner closely.

“So I can do anything to you? Anything at all?” Bruce asked. “And no matter what it is, you have to forgive me for it, right?”

Part of Bruce hoped that John would object, or at least have the sense to put some limiters on what was allowed, because what Bruce had promised himself he would do still seemed like it might be enough to completely ruin what had turned into one of the most important relationships in his life.

“Anything,” John replied with a smile

He already seemed far more relaxed than Bruce had been at this point in the proceedings.

Bruce didn’t even know what he was going to do with most of his ten minutes. He should have been angry with John, for the lives that he had taken, and for the chaos he had caused, but he couldn’t be. They’d both already been through so much, and John had been so kind and gentle with his own ten minutes.

For a moment Bruce had the insidious thought that perhaps John had insisted on going first so that he could use his turn to be ridiculously nice to Bruce and ensure that Bruce wouldn’t hurt him when their positions were reversed.

Bruce immediately scoffed at that idea. It wasn’t that John was above such subtle manipulation, but Bruce never would have been able to bring himself to hurt John anyway, especially not while he was blind and helpless like this. He hoped that John knew that.

Bruce found himself staring down at the other man. John didn’t look the same with his eyes covered. Looking at John’s emerald eyes never failed to take Bruce’s breath away. They were just so bright and so captivating, just like John himself.

He was tempted to just curl up in John’s lap and resume the hug that John had begun, but he wasn’t sure that John would be as comfortable taking Bruce’s weight as Bruce had been taking John’s.

“Bruce?” John asked, tilting his blindfolded head. “Come on. The clock’s ticking.”

“I know, I know,” Bruce said. “Just give me a moment.”

“You can do anything that you want to me,” John said, wriggling a little in the chair, his voice low and mischievous. “Anything at all.”

That really wasn’t helping things. Now Bruce was imagining several incredibly inappropriate things that he could do. John’s legs were already spread fairly wide. It would be so easy to kneel between them, to remove John’s cock from his pants and begin to suck.

But no. He couldn’t do that.

Perhaps kneeling wasn’t such a bad idea though.

Bruce dropped to his knees beside John’s feet, wrapped his arms around John’s waist and rested his head on the other man’s leg. John moved his legs together, giving Bruce a larger, more comfortable pillow to rest his head on, and making it easier for Bruce to hold John’s waist.

Bruce stayed there for a few minutes, listening to the soft sound of John’s breathing and savoring the other man’s smell and the feeling of him in Bruce’s arms. He wanted more than this. He wanted to stare into John’s eyes and feel the other man’s body pressed against his own; wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless and the only thing that he could think of was John.

For now though, this would have to be enough.

After a few minutes Bruce stood up. He watched John closely, noticing how the other man grew just a little more tense as he waited for Bruce’s next move.

Bruce wasn’t even sure what he was going to do until his hands reached out to run over John’s cheeks, fingers tracing over almost impossibly beautiful cheekbones and then down to John’s jaw. Bruce ran a thumb over John’s lower lip, and John gasped.

They stayed frozen like that for what seemed an age. Bruce was so tempted to slip his thumb inside John’s slightly open mouth, if only to see how John would react. John’s lips were already twitching, as though they were just aching to plant a kiss on Bruce’s thumb, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Bruce’s part.

He pulled his hands back from John’s face, and moved them further up to run them through John’s hair. It was so soft, and as soon as Bruce started caressing it he found that he couldn’t stop. John meanwhile was acting like a cat being petted, pressing into the touch and letting out pleased little hums as Bruce worked.

It was nice; just as nice as John hugging him had been, and Bruce kept it up until he heard John’s phone once again let out a single beep, letting Bruce know that he only had a minute left.

His hand stilled its movements. Bruce froze completely. It was now or never.

He knew that he was being a coward, but he also knew that he probably wasn’t ever going to get another chance like this.

“You have to forgive me for this,” he said, more to psych himself up than to actually speak to John, but John responded nevertheless.

“Of course,” John said. “Seriously Bruce, whatever you want to do, do it. You’re running out of time.”

John was right.

Bruce’s whole body suddenly felt too heavy. He was so nervous, but he forced himself to put his fears aside, wiped his hands, which suddenly felt too clammy, on the side of his pants, and steeled himself for what was about to happen.

John had gone still again.

Bruce reached out, placing one hand on each of John’s cheeks, and then, before he could second guess himself any more than he already had, he surged forward and pressed his lips to John’s own.

Bruce poured every ounce of love and passion that he had kept bottled up inside of him for so long into that kiss; every wayward urge to reach out and hold and touch and devour coming together in that one moment of desperate, risky indulgence.

At first John didn’t move at all, and Bruce started to worry that he really had messed up everything, but then John let out a loud, low, desperate-sounding moan that made Bruce’s heart twist, and then John was kissing back, opening his mouth to Bruce, and pressing back with a hunger just as tangible as Bruce’s own.

It was incredible, and Bruce practically melted against John. He wrapped his arms around John’s body, pulling him closer and groaning loudly as John’s tongue slipped inside of his mouth.

He was so swept up in the kiss that he barely noticed when the phone’s alarm rang, letting them know that Bruce’s ten minutes were up. Bruce pulled back from the kiss and made to get up, but he suddenly found John’s arms wrapping around him and keeping him in place.

“Ignore it. Please,” John begged, before pulling Bruce close and resuming the kiss.

Bruce could only guess that John had slipped his bonds when the alarm had gone off. It wasn’t a bad idea all things considered. He certainly didn’t want to stop kissing John any time soon.

The next time their mouths parted Bruce took a moment to reach up and remove the blindfold from around John’s eyes. He needed to look at them; wanted to see John’s beautiful emerald eyes staring up at him.

When John’s eyes met with his own Bruce felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe. God, they were so beautiful, but he couldn’t stare into John’s eyes and kiss him at the same time, and soon John had resumed the kiss, practically devouring Bruce’s mouth while all the while John’s phone continued to let out its harsh trill from its place beside them on the floor.

Bruce was sure that the phone was getting louder, and eventually he pulled back from John, although it was with more than a little reluctance. John’s mouth chased after his own, but Bruce reached out, holding John back, at least for the time being.

“One of us needs to turn that alarm off,” Bruce said, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to John’s forehead.

John let out a loud, displeased groan, but it didn’t stop Bruce from getting to his feet and stumbling over to the phone to turn it off.

He got back to his feet, legs shaking despite the fact that he and John hadn’t done anything more than kiss.

He had been intending to immediately return to the chair and to John, wanting nothing more than to start kissing him again, but when Bruce turned around he discovered that John had gotten to his feet and was standing right behind Bruce.

“You know,” he said, reaching out to place a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, slipping his fingers beneath the still-open shirt. The warmth of John’s hand against Bruce’s skin was enough to send a pleased shiver down Bruce’s spine. “You could have done that any time that you wanted.”

He winked at Bruce again, and sent him a grin that was so devious it was almost predatory. It sent another shiver down Bruce’s back, and oh god, he wanted to be devoured by that grin so badly; wanted John to kiss him and touch him and consume him completely.

“Really?” Bruce asked, raising one cocky eyebrow at John despite the fact that he was feeling anything but cocky.

“Really,” John practically purred, stepping closer to Bruce and throwing his other arm around Bruce’s shoulders.

“Well, you could have seen my scars any time too,” Bruce said. “Or hugged me. All that you had to do was ask.”

John seemed to consider that for a moment, and Bruce did not miss the way he glanced down at Bruce’s still bare chest, or the way his eyes seemed to linger on it for longer than would have been appropriate if their relationship had still been purely platonic.

“What about the tickling?” John finally asked, tearing his eyes away from Bruce’s chest to smile up at him once more.

Bruce cringed.

“Eh, I think I’d prefer to repeat all of the other things that we got up to,” John said, echoing Bruce’s own thoughts on the matter.

John pulled back from Bruce. He hand wrapped around one of Bruce’s wrists and he began to guide him back towards the chair.

He gestured for Bruce to sit back down. Bruce did and before long he found himself with a lap full of John Doe and this time they were both smiling and eager. This time he could wrap his arms around John and pull him close and oh god… Just holding him like this was absolute heaven.

“I’m still glad that we did those trust exercises,” John whispered into the crook of Bruce’s neck.

“Yeah,” Bruce whispered back as he ran a hand through John’s hair. “Me too.”

John lifted his head up. They looked into each other’s eyes for a couple of seconds, and then they were both closing the few inches that lay between them, their lips pressing hungrily against one another’s.

This time it was a very long time before they parted.

[palestinianliberator]

Story of our family’s blood curse

OKAY SO I didn’t realize how detailed this was until I actually sat down to try and write about it...but I’ll try to keep things juicy and concise.

It’s important to preface this by saying that in my village, there are three major families, or “clans”. There’s Manasrah, which my family hails from, Saramah, and Awowda. These clans supersede the immediate family units, and are incredibly unified and caring of one another. 

The story starts with my grandma Mohdia and her three brothers, Musa [also known as Moses], Yousef, and Tawfik.

My grandmother spent her whole life in Palestine, very rarely leaving, while her brothers moved around the world to find work - Tawfik and Yousef moving separately to the US, and Musa moving to El Salvador where he started a family and became known as “Moses al-Arabiy” [Moses the Arab].

Yousef had 5 sons and and 4 daughters, one of his sons were Waleed and one of his grandkids was Khaled. Waleed was a good kid, working with his father and helping to support both his family, while Khaled was a gambling alcoholic who would beg friends and family for money. Yousef’s wife [who hails from the Saramah clan] had a daughter from a previous marriage who herself had a son, Mohammad. This daughter and son were not a part of their new family [my family basically], as they were loyal to her biological father of the opposing clan and remained with them. I KNOW THIS IS PROBABLY CONFUSING BUT BEAR WITH ME!

One day in the mid to late 1960s, Khaled went up to Mohammad, who was a wealthy man, and asked for money. Mohammad denied him and apparently chastised his behavior and inability to support himself. Khaled, drunk and furious at the slight, gunned Mohammad down and ran off, going into hiding.

Now my village is INCREDIBLY strict when it comes to dishing out justice, and they take family honor and alliances very seriously - when it came out that Khaled was responsible for the murder of Mohammad, our family offered up his life to make things even, knowing that he was guilty of murder and should face punishment for what he’d done. Not everyone agreed with this, but it was seen as the best way to keep things from escalating. Khaled was then executed, and after a period of mourning for both victims, things went back to normal.

Except that the mother and uncle of the family friend that was murdered weren’t satisfied. Keep in mind, my grandma’s brother/my “uncle” and my family are of the Manasrah clan, while the murdered man and his bereaved family were from the Saramah clan.

The mother, distraught at the loss of her successful and beloved son, went out into the village declaring that God had not allowed true justice to prevail, and that she would cast a blood curse on Yousef [her mother’s new husband], his family, and his entire lineage, and that she would seal it with blood so that nobody will ever forget the crime committed against her, her family, and her clan. Think of how serious and committed someone must be to go out and publicly speak of blood magic in a relatively conservative village like this - she wasn’t joking around. Not long after this, she disappeared completely. 

Things remained somewhat tense, but overall okay.

Several years later, however, one of Yousef’s kids was killed under “unknown circumstances”, his body dumped in the street. The general consensus was that the family of Mohammad, the man killed previously, was responsible, but otherwise nothing solid and things eventually moved on.

In retrospect, that was the “blood” that sealed her curse.

Now switching gears and going back to Moses al-Araby, my grandma’s other brother living in Bolivia. He was involved in leftist revolutionary movements and opposed the US backed government that took over following the coup in 1964. I don’t know too many details about his life, but I hope to learn more as I reach out to family still in Bolivia in the future. Anyways, after the collapse of the organization Moses was involved in, he went into hiding.

Several years later, sometime in the mid to late 60s, Tawfiq [the last of my grandma’s brothers] travelled with his son to Bolivia to meet with Moses, not knowing ANYTHING of his involvement with leftist revolutionary groups, and not being involved in any sort of political movements himself. Tawfiq was falsely identified as Moses, and was assassinated along with his son by a hit squad. Moses used this as an opportunity to flee the country, going into hiding in the Middle East for a period, before he himself was eventually killed by Israeli forces in the late 80s. 

Now back to Yousef, who in the late 70s was living in Idaho with his wife and some Waleed, where they owned a jeans and fashion store. One day, both Yousef and his 25 year old son Waleed were assassinated in a case that, to this day, remains an “unsolved murder”. The funny thing is, we know who did it, and we know where this individual currently lives.

Anyways, it was made well known that the assassination of both Yousef and Waleed was still part of the mother’s payback, and she followed through with her threat to murder her biological mother’s new husband. This entire time, however, she remained missing. She was never seen again after her initial threats of a blood curse. The building where Yousef and his son was assassinated is know known as a “haunted location”, a building in which future tenants have claimed to here voices and shouting, and where a man eventually hung himself. You can read about some of that bit here. So it’s great to know that if I ever want to visit my distant uncle, I can find his spirit in that building. 

The body count at this point is 7, including the original murder and murderer. 

Given this brazen attack on our family, and given that we knew the two men responsible for the murder, our clan decided to strike back. One of the two murderers was killed and his body hidden in a dessert in Las Vegas. you can read about that in the link above^. I don’t know who was responsible exactly, but it’s common knowledge that it was all in connection to the assassination of Yousef and his son.

Man there is so much more that I’m glossing over, but I’m trying to keep this from turning into a novel x_x.

There’s an ENTIRE other story about how this back and forth killing led to a feud so big that the IDF had to storm Deir Dibwan to resolve things, all sparked by two more killings tied to clan relations with this blood curse/feud.

By the end of the initial killing spree, each of my grandmother’s brothers had been murdered, with people at this point blaming the blood curse, and hoping it was the end.

Well...it wasn’t. 

In the years since - two of Yousef’s sons died in car accidents, and a third was gunned down in a random attack. One of his daughters died with her family in a house fire.

One of Moses’ kids was gunned down in Bolivia under unknown circumstances.

Two of Tawfiq’s kids lost ALL of their money in different ways, leaving their families in shambles. One of his daughters committed suicide.

One of Tawfiq’s grandkids, the ~rapper~ Mally Mall [who is my cousin lol] had his house burn down, killing his pet wildcat.

Another of Tawfiq’s kids just went missing one day, and was never found.

One of Tawfiq’s grandkids also went missing, but he was eventually found in his car, which had been set on fire with him inside.

My grandma’s sister, who had been through enough shit with al-Nakba and some stuff that had happened to her due to Israeli forces, ended up losing her eye.

Then you have my immediate family & immediate aunts and uncles - I don’t want to divulge THEIR personal details here, but suffice to say......things are pretty messy. My grandma lost two of her children, and three of my aunts and uncles lost 4 children between them. My aunt had her San Francisco store burned down in an arson attack and lost a child to drowning. I came into this post fully intended to discuss some of the personal details with my family/uncles that more recently reflected manifestations of ~the curse~, but I realize now that I don’t want to share that info publicly...sorry x_x. 

To this day, the curse and this entire ordeal is pretty well-known throughout the village, and two clans have since made amends. There have also been multiple “attempts” to tackle the blood curse, but.....you know, HOW do you know when one has been lifted? Especially one cast out of such malice. And sure, you can just go and blame any negative occurrence on ~a curse~, but given that the body count is well over 20, given the extreme unlikelihood that so many houses in my family have been burned down, given that my uncle’s goddamn spirit is said to still haunt the building where he was assassinated.......you know??

At this point, any negative major event that happens, we joke about as being the result of the curse~ [and those that know me..............well.. (: ]. At this point I’m going to stop typing, because holy hell this is long.....and I should probably proofread it first, but I just want to post it before I lose everything.