#also there IS a correct option. it's toilet of doom.

[snatcher-no-snatching]

Ok. We're settling this now.

[mistkissedmoon]

Blankets made of Trust

“You have one night to decide”.​​ ​​Jason felt the words thrum through the air on loop before slamming into him, nearly knocking him over as he clenched his teeth until the words in his mind became an indecipherable ringing in his ears. ​​You’ve got to be kidding me. One Night to decide whether I want to become a zombie or an attack dog?! He thought furiously. He wrenched his head up and caught the warning stare of the Bat through the bulletproof glass - Who called him again, Jason thought scathingly - who raised an eyebrow. Careful, he seemed to be saying. Don’t talk, or I’ll take away all your options. Options? That was a fucking joke. There was no other option! The Lazarus pit’s madness had been growing more overwhelming by the hour, and if he went without some kind of spell he would become a mad serial killer. At the same time, what they were proposing was out of the question. Jason scoffed and turned to stare out between the thin bars of his cell. It was a damn miracle the idiots hadn’t been broken into already, most of their walls being made of glass, he thought sourly. It’s not like they leave a guard behind when they fight. ​​

​​“Red Hood. Did you hear that?”​​

Jason snapped his head back and levelled his most threatening glare at Nightwing. The idiot puffed his chest out and gazed at him like he thought he was actually intimidating.

 ​​“Yes.” He gritted his teeth and forced out the next words; “thank you.”

​​Batman - you poor excuse for a father mentor, Jason thought bitterly - motioned for everyone to exit his cell and they left without a backwards glance. That self-righteous Bat, the lapdog golden boy and the rest of his fantastic five crew including his replacement left- how humiliating low, to be replaced and then judged, in every sense of the word, by both my brothers him, while he stood in a cell that only had a toilet, sink and bed - with that absolute bitch of a magician. When everybody had left, the door of the enclosed witness area clicked shut, the scrape of a lock echoing soon after. Jason’s head fell back against the wall as he let his breath out explosively.

 “Anyway,” Zatanna had said, glancing meaningfully at Batman, “I can definitely block the Lazarus madness, but seeing as he is a criminal I think we should add a few rules to the spell.”

 Of course, their pet magician would insist on a few more rules being thrown in; Jason would lose the ability to kill, there was a ‘code phrase’ to make him do whatever they say (paranoid old bat and his lousy replacement) and Jason would hold the spell up with his own energy stores, making him tired easily. Lap dog or Rabid beast. Jason grimaced, closing his eyes to stop the burning sensation just behind them. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don’t, he thought grimly.​​ ​​A flash of purple light had his eyes snapping open in shock as a figure with an armload of objects materialised in the shadows of his room. Jason tried not to stare as the residual smoke revealed the objects to be a shiny diadem, an old - and well preserved, he noted approvingly - tome as well as a few bottles of what seemed to be softly glowing…somethings.

 ​​“Hey there, lucky little ravenclaw. You coming out? What's up your ass?” He inquired tiredly.​​The figure - Raven, he remembered- looks like a literal shadow, clad in a deep blue cloak that seemed to suck at the very light around her until she was little more than a barely discernible silhouette against the dark walls. All the same, the way she carried herself made him think of a sorceress or queen of old from the books he used to read. Heck, maybe even a goddess, like she’s saying ‘I have made a decision, and nothing you say or do will stop me’. Like she wasn’t thinking about how much care that book deserved or whether she should consider giving it away.​​“I’ve made a decision,” She answered in a low, musical voice. “And nothing you say or do will stop me.” ​​Well. That was serendipitous.​​ ​​“I’ve thought about what Batman wants Zatanna to do to you, and…” Raven hesitated. “I don’t think that this is right.”

 ​​Dully, Jason wondered if she would ever gain the courage to do more than just voice her disapproval with Batman’s methods. If any of these ‘heroes’ would. Probably not; there must have been a reason she worked here, after all.

​​“I’m willing to offer you an alternative solution; I can cast a spell on you instead.” ​​Her words were delivered with complete certainty, taking an subtle breath and squaring her shoulders afterward. ​​Pure unadulterated rage sprang to life within his veins. Jason’s face rearranged itself into a truly ugly, fearsome expression, his muscles tensing in preparation for a fight.

​​“So, what? You’re just going to put your own spell on me before she does?” Jason spat bitterly. 

​​“No. I’m going to -”​​

“I’m not going to be your slave, or anyone else’s, for that matter. You can tell Zatanna that, too.”

​​“I don’t want you to be my slave. I want you to pick and choose the words of the spell that will seal the Lazarus away, so I can, with your consent, cast that specific spell on you.”​​

Jason’s eyebrows decided to try defying gravity to fly into his hair. After a startled second, he barked out a laugh. He crowded the female titan against the wall and glared down at her, clenching his hands. To his annoyance, she seemed apathetic to the point of boredom.

 “Give me a break, sunshine. In what universe would the golden boy -”

​​“Don’t call him that.”

​​“The Bat’s loyal bitch-”

​​“Language.”

 ​​“-ever send you to free me without stipulations?”​​

“As far as I know, none. Which is why I am here of my own volition, without his knowledge.”​​

Raven swept passed him and laid her belongings on the bed. Jason’s eyebrows held an unanimous meeting and promptly decided to retry their earlier flight. “What?”

​​Raven paused her idle flipping of her book to spare a dry glance at him.​​ “Are you hard of hearing, Jay-son?” she carefully enunciated.​​  Jason scowled. 

”Forgive my surprise, oh smart one. I’m just surprised you of all people would go against his back. You aren’t ruled by your emotions, and you always do what your leader says -”​​  Raven twirled around to face him suddenly, something flickering in her eyes, gone before he could decipher it.

​​“I don’t do what Nightwing tells me to do. I do what I think is right.” she corrected, a hint of soft rebuke in her tone. She resumed her flipping of the books pages until she reached her goal and moved on to sort the eerily glowing crystal bottles.​​ 

“And helping a convicted criminal is part of your moral obligation, is it?” ​​ Jason slouched against the wall, raising his hands incredulously.

​​“Helping anyone and everyone who truly needs it is a part of my moral obligation.” Raven declared proudly without hesitation. Was this girl serious? One look at her face and Jason knew she clearly was.​​ “I understand you heroes think all killers were beyond redemption.” He commented with wry amusement.​​“You shouldn’t stereotype.” She said coolly, “Or tell your assumptions to a hero, who happens to be a demon.” Jason paused, mulling that revelation over. It was common knowledge among those who fought in the same circles as him that Raven’s magic was uncommon. Several unscrupulous magic users he talked to had fearfully claimed that her energy was ‘demonic’. Jason silently apologised for rolling his eyes or dismissing these accounts as fanciful or exaggerations and resolved to buy any of them drinks if he happened to see them again. “Besides, it’s usually unwise to be so presumptuous of a person you desperately need help from.”​​ ​​“What makes you say that?” He parried defensively, scratching his chin. “For all you know, I could have broken out and found another gullible magician to give me a few potions or something.”​​

 “But you won’t. You’ve already tried, and none of them were powerful enough.” She supplied bluntly. “I..” She looked away, almost shamefaced, “I felt it.” 

​​ She… what? Ah. Right. Empath, he suddenly recalled, wincing. He was good at concealing his facial expressions, but nothing could have masked the sheer desperation he felt when he showed up at their door. Merde. He must have looked like such a fool for trying to seem like he didn’t need her help.

​​  “I’m not trying to control you, Jason. The book is a dictionary; you can pick and choose the words you want me in the spell and I’ll perform it.” Her soft, persuasive tone urged him to believe her. ​​

“Why should I believe you?” Jason snarled, lashing out with a feeling of vicious satisfaction upon seeing her take a step back. “What if this is one of Nightwing’s tricks to rummage around my head gathering intel?”

​​”I will not enter your mind - that’s not necessary at all in this circumstance - and if I do, you can easily overpower me while I am in a trance.”​​

“What use would that be? Then we’d both be in here, and I can add resisting arrest to my list of crimes.”

​​Raven looked like she was having difficulty stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She waved her hand, magically unlocking the cell door.  “Are you always this paranoid?”​​

“No. Just when I’m in the headquarters of sworn enemies and about to be magically lobotomized within twenty-four hours - not to be rude, but at least a third of your colleagues have tried to send me to Arkham asylum.” Jason reminded her flatly, crossing his arms.​​

“Exactly! What do you have to lose!?”

​​“My life. Also, I’m doing fine. I could easily break out of here if I wanted too.” Raven looked pointedly at her spell book, exaggeratedly feigning patience. Jason’s lips twitched, satisfied. Annoying her was fun. 

“Although I appreciate your sense of derring-do, I really must insist I block the madness trying to make you go on a killing spree before you leave.”

​​“While telling Nightwing all the extra little details you’ll happen to hear while we talk, huh?” Jason’s eyes bored into her, suddenly agate-hard. It really isn’t fair, he thought suddenly, that Raven could so easily try to deceive me like this. Life wasn’t fair. Jason knew this, and didn’t understand why he felt like crying right now. It must have been the stress. Or the Lazarus pit. It certainly couldn’t be anything else, since he’d been lied to so many times before and he’d generally been unbothered. In fact, he had started expecting certain people to lie about being on his side and had taken to wearing a doubly reinforced Kevlar suit. It had saved him from knives in the back - literally - more than a few times. The bruises still hurt like a motherfucker, though. Raven slowly took out her communicator - and slid it towards him.

 “There. Now I can’t contact him in any way. Is that all?” He bent down and slowly picked it up. Jason thought about it for some time. He disliked any kind of spell on him, especially spells that would be permanent and affected his mind, however positive the effect might be. All the same though, it was necessary and Raven was giving him as much freedom that he could want. Something akin to grudging respect; or gratitude welled within him.​​

​​“Fine.” he complied gruffly, resisting the stupid urge to thank her. “I just have to pick out words in this book, right?”

 He strode over to the tiny cot and picked it up, carefully not taking his eyes off her nor touching the freaky looking vials. “What’s the language - oh, right, English is this half of the page. Okay, this should be easy enou- no. Stay where you are. I don’t want you to move while I’m reading this book.”​​ She threw him an exasperated look and disregarded his command, sitting beside him and leaning against the headboard. 

​​ “Of course, Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand?” she asked sardonically. “That should be reassuring enough, shouldn’t it?”

 ​​ Jason ignored that, trying to concentrate on being irritated with her instead of the thought of his hands, warming and covering her tiny ones. He cleared his throat and tapped several words in quick succession to distract himself. “Would those words work?”​​

​​Raven, he learned, had a incredibly wide vocabulary and impressive command of tone. She could add inflections that added entire volumes of meaning of her words. On the whole, though, he would have preferred a less exhaustive running commentary of the kind of gruesome implications his miswording could cause. In retrospect, he realized that he should have chosen to ‘block’ the madness, instead of ‘concentrating’ it in his head, but Raven took great pleasure in describing the resulting explosion that would cause. Raven went on to describe - very unnecessarily in his opinion, the other various failings that would stop his heart, give him wings on the sides of his heads and cause his face to erupt in highly painful tentacles in glowing terms with apparent relish, never mind that any one of them was good enough reason to reword the spell. Raven tended to overdramatise certain things, he noticed. Especially things that would result in giving him a terminal injury, which, ha, he was sure wouldn’t be permanent this time over, either, especially if the Lazarus was still in his system. He said as such to Raven, who promptly whacked him over the head with her book - ow, it was heavier than she made it look - and told him to “focus, you leather-skulled domnoddy.”

​​“You aren’t afraid of me? I’m apparently a very unhinged serial killer, after all.” Jason grumbled half-curiously, rubbing his complaining skull.

​​“I could ask the same of you. I’ve never met someone who was so calm upon learning about my heritage. I’m practically a descendant of lucifer.”

​​That- That was something he had not considered. “If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization.” Jason quoted, shrugging.

​​“Well said.” Raven said after a pause.​​

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit - a quote by Robert Green Ingersole. I’m more than willing to share his belief when it comes to you, though.”

​​“That’s kind of you. Although, I think you give the serpent too much credit. I like to think we would have eaten the apple eventually anyway.”

 ‘We’ he mouthed. Not ‘you’. Interesting. ​​“I can’t tell if your view is cynical or optimistic, little birdie.”

​​“Optimistic. I like the thought that we’re curious enough to try to better ourselves, no matter how flawless we may be.”

​​“Hypothetically, could it be said that the humans were truly flawless before they ate the apple?”

​​“No. If they were flawless, their faith would have made them invulnerable to tempting. Besides, their children became the first murderer and victim of the world; seeing as how humans learn from their parents, they couldn’t have been close to flawless.” Raven countered.

​​“Fair enough. If neither of us can accept that eating the apple was evil, and that faith isn’t our greatest strength, what is?”

​​“Perception. Just because one person sees it differently doesn’t mean either is wrong. It’s what makes us human and helps us advance - If Eden’s humans were perfect, it must have been a pretty bland place.” Raven smiled shyly, - cute - like what she just said had a special meaning for her. “And if you define perception as a type of knowledge, then it was gained by eating the apple.” ​​Jason stared at her, a little in awe. His debating skills had been blunted by his lack of intelligent company since Alfred, but he had enough wits to recognise a superior orator. “You’re delightfully witty, little bird.” He complimented. There was a lull in conversation while she focused on reading the spell. Idly, he wondered if she was avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he’d made her flustered (of course, he would want to make any girl flustered, Jason thought, consciously not questioning if that was true). “Thank you. This wording ought to do it.” ​​ ​​Raven withdrew a rod from within her cloak, upon which closer inspection revealed a point easily as sharp as a dagger. Jason felt the blood rush from his face and stumbled away from her, falling off the cot and sending one of the vials flying, shattering on impact with the wall next to the cot. Raven jumped and refocused her eyes on Jason, befuddled. After a awkward pause, in which Jason remained frozen with consternation half on and half off the bed, acutely aware of the foul-smelling concoction dripping onto the cot, Raven coughed, folding her sleeve over her nose and gingerly edging away from the liquid. 

​​“Jason.” She scolded nasally, “I need to draw some symbols on your skin before I can cast the spell on you.”

​​“No way.” He refused flatly, surreptitiously putting the cot between them. “The last person to approach me with a piece of metal that big killed me and I’m not letting you inscribe stuff into my skin.”

​​“First on all, if you want to recover from that trauma, I know a couple of therapists who won’t care about your alter ego. I can accompany you if you really want help.” ​​She spoke haltingly, turning away to dip her instrument in one of the vials while a curtain of hair shielded her expression.​​Jason’s snapped to hers in astonishment. That was not the response he was expecting. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was most certainly not that. ​​“Secondly, I would never kill you, ever! If you can’t go with me, don’t you have someone else to accompany you to therapy?” Raven looked at him, fire sparking in her plum eyes. Jason sat back down on the cot and put his interlocked hands behind his head. ​​“You saw how Bruce looked at me, little birdie. I don’t trust my brothers one bit with this and the one person who might go with me is back at the old Batman HQ. I can’t exactly pop in and ask him to come to therapy with me; god, what would he think anyway?” Jason scoffed, too jaded for tears. ​​

“I believe you.” Raven admitted quietly. She sighed, her exhale sounding like branches rattling in the wind and Jason suddenly remembered Catherine, tired, Catherine, jaded, Catherine, with a sigh like branches rattling in the wind and a will like a dying ember. Jason frowned. That sound was far, far too tired to match one so courageous and lovely as her. If it was up to me, she’d never make that sound again. He thought firmly. 

​​“You don’t belong there anymore; I know what that’s like.” Raven looked even more tired then, not angry, just… sad. Her eyes looked old. Her lashes fluttered, as though just keeping them upright was causing her effort, and Jason had a strange impulse to wipe that look of her face. ​​“But.” Raven straightened, Jason mirroring her, and suddenly the formidable titan was back. “That doesn’t mean you have to cut off contact with that person. Dick’s told me about him - his name is Alfred, right? If what Dick has said about him was true, then you should write to him - he’s been worrying about you.” ​​Jason looked down, wishing he’d had the foresight to smuggle in a cigarette with him. 

​​“He wouldn’t welcome my letters, little bird.”

​​“Yes, he would! You’re so smart,” she protested. “How can someone as smart as you not see that!”​​

Jason felt the tips of his ears glow in an odd kind of embarrassed pride.​​“Alright. I’ll try.” He coughed, feeling foolish.​​ Raven looked oddly proud, her eyes more tender than Jason felt was appropriate.​

​“Try to write about something you love or admire. It’ll be easier that way,” she advised, placing her rod - which emanated an uncomfortable burning sensation - directly over his heart. Jason tried not to flinch unsuccessfully. “What is that?” 

​​“A toothpick of a giant.” Raven replied nonchalantly, focusing on her work.​​ Jason blinked. “How?” He was unable to articulate further than that, but Raven must have gleaned what he was asking through his gobsmacked expression. After quelling a fit of laughter with a snort, Raven explained, ”We were sucked into another dimensions on one of our missions. Nightwing, in his infinite wisdom, took one look at the sleeping 30ft giant and decided to punch it in the nose, and then got us both sucked in it’s left nostril when it snorted.” ​​Jason cackled wildly. Raven shook her head jokingly, smiling at him. “Honestly, if we hadn’t acquired such a valuable tool climbing out of it’s mouth -” Raven punctured her tale of woe with a horrified shudder, to Jason’s renewed cackles growing ever-louder. “I think I would have left him there when we managed to teleport back here.”​​

“So it was like a series of unfortunate events, huh?” Jason lilted flippantly. ​​Raven swatted at him mock irritably, but he could see the hint of a grin on her face before she composed herself. Why did she do that? Jason immediately began running through his repertoire of book references for something that might bring that beautiful smile back. Woah. Beautiful smile? He questioned himself, mentally shooing away from that thought. Bad thought. Go back to wherever you came from, because you certainly did not come from The Red Hood’s esteemed intellect. ​​Jason cleared his throat, his palms unreasonably sweaty for some reason and almost dropped the book he remembered he was still holding at the last minute. ​​“Aren’t you afraid of Nightwing catching you red handed?”

​​Raven’s eyes dropped to the whitewashed floor. “No,” she uttered softly. “He’s much too busy fighting with Starfire right now to worry about anything else”. Raven met his gaze with a pained smile, her eyes soft with sadness. Jason’s stomach twisted nauseatingly and he suddenly regretted his question. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he joked feebly, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. “Something like that.” Raven crossed her arms and blinked away any emotions that had been present in her gaze.​​ No, no, dammit! Look what you did, he snarled inwardly, you made her close up! 

​​ “Starfire’s people are traditionally polyamorous but Dick-Nightwing refuses to talk to her about any options or - well, anything outside of work, now.”

 ​​ Her words, although sudden, were unusually soft and tired compared to their earlier banter. Jason jolted up to look at Raven, who had apparently taken his silence for an inquiry.​​

“Uncommunicative as ever when it comes to love, those bats, I see. ah, lord, what fools these mortals be.” he blurted impulsively, wincing inwardly. Raven threw her head and her hood back - she has such lovely plump cherry lips!  - and laughed. Her laugh was deep, and husky, he noted absently, as it quieted to infectious chuckles, and quite possibly the warmest thing he had ever heard in his life. Somehow managing to be on the quiet side, yet filling the room with her vibrant presence until he felt like he could hardly breathe. “Nobody who loves is a complete fool, and if it indeed foolishness, then it is divine folly.” She teased playfully, the tiredness in her voice vanishing like mist on a hot day, the corners of her mouth still twitching. Jason let out the breath he had been holding, a chuckle of his own beginning to rumble in his throat as he leaned back on the small cot. ​

​​Jason reached for a flask among the glowing vials, to find Raven curling protectively over it, calling it her Assam; her favourite tea. He had to release a few more chuckles upon seeing her so passionate of her tea - she’d get along well with someone he knows. After that, however, the tension surrounding them eased into something easy and almost familiar, almost distracting him from the complicated patters Raven was twirling over his bare chest.

 “Do this often, little bird? Only artists like painters normally have this level of precision.” He commented.​​

“I don’t just do it for other spells.” She admitted reluctantly. “I make art of all kinds.” Jason tilted his head, curious. “I use paint to draw murals, I draw the stories I read about, and I draw the plants and animals I’ve seen from other, um, other-” She elaborated eagerly. Her eyes sparkled and she tossed her head, displaying a burst of passion Jason found himself unable to look away from. “Places?” He offered.​​

 “Planets.” She finished wryly. “And sometimes dimensions, too.” She frowned, studying him closely. “Hold still. I need to kiss this seal in order for the spell to activate.” ​​ Without waiting for his reply, Raven swooped down and planted a light, soft kiss on her glyphs, which began to glow with the same light her vials had. Jason started, lowering his hand from behind his back to touch the place she had kissed him - and whacked her soundly on the nose as she looked up.​​ “Ow!” Raven slid in his lap.

​ “Sorry! Sorry!” Jason yelped. “Are you okay, little birdie? Oh, god, I haven’t broken anything, have I? Deep breaths, Deep breaths. Should I call an ambulance - do you even have a doctor in this place?!” 

Jason’s arms fluttered uselessly around her as she pressed against the bridge of her nose gingerly.​​ 

“I’m good.” She winced. “I have healing powers.”​​

 Jason felt unbearably awkward. Would turning himself into the bat end the feeling of wanting to climb under the cot and never come out? Jason wasn’t sure, but he seriously considered it for a few, long silence filled minutes. Raven exhaled heavily, her breath touching his neck, and Jason suddenly became excruciatingly aware of their position. His heart kept banging against his chest like it was trying to reach her. Jason could have counted every single one of her eyelashes. Her brow creased. Oh, god. She could hear his heartbeats, couldn’t she? Geez, had they always been this loud? Ugh. Jason felt like he could die of embarrassment. Raven cleared her throat and gracefully stood up on the cot, moving around him to inspect the mess on the wall. Always so graceful. Jason stood up hurriedly and turned to face her back, rubbing his neck. 

“The spell is complete; the pit’s madness will never affect you again. If you want, you can leave; There isn’t anything very interesting to do now,” she murmured, almost apologetically, beginning to clean the stain away with magic.

​​“Why would I? As if you could ever be boring.” he said reproachfully.​​She blushed, which shot a thrill up his spine that manifested in what must have been a thoroughly dopey smile on his face. God. What was she doing to him? Jason wondered. Whatever it was, it made his chest feel confused and happy and tight and yearning at the same time, so he pushed the feeling down and forced himself to smirk.​​“What is that, by the way? You didn’t use it, did you? That looks nasty.” Jason cringed as another drop of the mystery liquid reached his bedding.

​​“No, I didn’t. You didn’t choose any of the words that required it. It’s human blood.” Raven explained absently, rolling his eyes, at his disgusted expression. 

“It was one of the men we were too late to save - he tried saving another man who had been framed who was imprisoned in his kingdom’s palace dungeons.”​​

“He was idealistic for trying to save someone in the government’s headquarters” Jason decreed firmly.​​ Raven gave him an amused look. Damn, she was way too perceptive for her own good.

​​“Or perhaps he was honourable to not condemn the prisoner to an unjust fate.” She lilted, almost playfully. Did she just flutter her eyelashes at me?

​​“You know what I‘m implying. If robin figures out you did this, he could kick you out, little bird. I’d be happy to host you as a selfless citizen, myself, though.” Jason brightened, not at all selflessly. 

​​“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. You should not have to suffer for his need to micromanage everything related to the Titans. Besides, he’s so emotionally stunted he’d never punish me in a way I can’t see him gloat over my misery.” Raven retorted pertly. ​​Jason tried to choke back a cackle, staring at her incredulously. He ended up making what he imagined to be the sound a dog toy made when it broke, which was why he tried to stop imagining and change the subject. Did she really just say that?​​ “And if he puts you in this cell?”

​​“I’ll tell him to stop sulking like a spoilt brat. He always looks like he needs to take a shit.”

 Jason struggled to control the tide of snickers pouring out of him. Okay, he decided, she wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious.

 ​​“He probably won’t try anything too painful, with you long gone and I being as valuable as I am - oh!” Raven slipped off the bed, into Jason’s instinctive embrace. Sudden, burning fury roared within him, the type that threatened to lash out if provoked.

 “And if he tries to hurt you like a spoilt child, I’ll cut off his cock and nail it to a sewer wall somewhere until he remembers his manners.” Jason growled fiercely. ​​ She stared at him from their close proximity, the laidback energy between them tightening and fraying with tension. Jason fidgeted, realising how protective that statement had sounded. What was she doing to him? 

“Since you’ve been so good to me, and all.” He added hastily.​​ 

“That’s gross, Jason.” She said, relaxing in his arms - too close, too fucking close, her back was curving against his arm - and he set her down carefully, supressing a shudder.​​ Jason’s eyes widened. 

“Here!” He thrust her communicator back at her. She glanced at it, surprised, as if she had forgotten about it too. When she reached to take it, Jason impulsively clasped her hands with his other fingers. 

“Would…” Jason licked his lips, steeling himself, noting how raven’s eyes traced where his tongue had been and drawing strength from it.

 “Would you like to come to dinner with me?” he waited, breathless.​​ 

“I’d like that…”

 She squeezed her eyes shut, and tensed her shoulders like she expected Jason to reprimand her or make her feel guilty.

 “What convinced you?” he asked, curiously. She looked up in surprise and blessed him with a gentle smile. Jason found it oddly adorable. 

“I hadn’t realized what a charmer you were.” she drawled.

 Jason blushed furiously and rubbed his neck, glancing at Raven, who seemed to be more amused by the second. 

“So, where should we meet? Your place? You don't exactly have a secret to keep, now.” She pointed out.​​ Jason guilty thought of the red x costume in his condo. 

“I do have a secret, actually.”​​

“I'm sure it must be simply dreadful.” Raven said placidly, reclining on the cot. ​​ Jason thought about the way she hadn’t hesitated to help him regardless of what her leader said. He thought about the look she’d given him when he had told her about not being able to go home. He thought about how she looked when he’d said he would write to Alfred. He swallowed and cradled her cheeks. If he was feeling particularly brave when remembering this later, he might have thought that she had nuzzled into the cradle of his hands. 

“It might be, honestly. I can’t tell how you’ll see it as. But if you come to my condo next week, I promise I’ll tell you everything.” he whispered hoarsely - apologetically - in her ear.

 “Everything?” Raven echoed. There was an unspoken question in her eyes, and Jason wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and rock away the doubt in her eyes until she felt secure again. He settled for wetting his lips. Later, he reminded himself. Later. “Yeah, Little Bird. Everything you want, okay?”​​ 

“Okay. Thank you. In our world, telling me your information means a lot.” She looked at him with growing respect and a touch of admiration in her eyes. “That must have taken a lot of courage.”​​Jason smiled at her. What a weird person. What a weird demon. She was simply wonderful, he decided. Absolutely wonderful. Jason stared into her amethyst shining with hope, and privately managed to gather enough thought to decide on writing to Alfred about her. He thinks that he’ll write that his lady (if it would not be presumptuous to call her that) is unapologetic when breaking rules, brutally honest, a real demon but that she paints for fun, is loyal to her ethics first and foremost, keeps her books in pristine condition, a true hero yet a gentle soul and would look terribly, terribly breathtaking if he can convince her to wear a flower crown and get her eyes to sparkle like they were again. ​​

​​Ripping his eyes away from her reluctantly, he backed out of the door and looked back - to see a flash of purple smoke. Of course! He felt like hitting his temple with the palm of his hand. She has magic; she could have left or alerted Nightwing at any time without his knowledge! For some odd, indecipherable reason, this revelation caused him to break out in bouts of uncontrollable snickers as he jumped out the closest window. ​​ ​​He decided to add Assam tea to his shopping list.  ​​

 ​​Epilogue.​​

“Little Bird.” Raven spared a questioning glance at her - their - bed’s other occupant, who winked at her and waved lazily. Raven pursed her lips and aimed her gaze back at the novel in her hands, stifling a yawn. “It’s time to sleep.”​​

“One more chapter.”​​

“Mon petit oiseau, you know I adore a good book as much as you do. But I adore our bedtime ritual even more, love. Haven’t you finished that tea yet anyway?”

​​“Almost.” She turned a page and cradled her mug with both hands, draining it.​​“Awesome.” Jason stole a languid kiss to distract her as he plucked her book out of her hands and set it down on his bedside table. 

“Mmm- Jason!” Raven protested weakly. He grinned at her and palmed her hips slowly. “What is it, darling? You know neither of us can sleep properly unless you do your ritual.” It had started about a year into their relationship, after a particularly bad nightmare. ​​She set down her cup down with a mellifluous rap and squirmed to straddle his lap. Jason quickly draped a blanket around her shoulders and held her in a warm embrace. He'd quickly learned that she would get cold very easily and took full advantage of this fact to shamelessly encourage her to press every inch of herself against him whenever she was cold. Privately, Jason thanked whoever was up there that she hadn't caught him turning their 'broken' heater off yet. Raven exhaled as her fingers slowly caressed his face. Starting with his jawline, pressing kisses to his temple, lingering below his ears - he had to focus on not keening when she suckled beneath his earlobe -then combing his explosion of hair back, her dainty fingers travelling lower to his temples. 

Three years onward and she still did this ritual every night, he thought fondly. “You have wrinkles”. she breathed abruptly. Wrinkles? On his gorgeous face? Jason thought. Oh, hell no. They were not wrinkles. They were the bags beneath his eyes. A few good nights sleep with his Raven and it’d clear right up. If not, the wrinkles had better pray for nothing more than skin lotion.​​ 

“Where?” Jason demanded indignantly. ​​Raven touched the corners of this eyes gently, her eyes glowing tenderly.

​​“Did you know”, she began conversationally, “that there is one smile that cannot be replicated unless you are happy? It’s the only smile that includes the eyes - that’s where the saying ‘smiling eyes’ comes from.”

 ​​Jason sat back, wondering where the hell she was going with this, but happy to let her talk for as long as she wanted. 

“If you smile that smile enough, well” she shrugged, tapping his wrinkles. “You must have been smiling a lot for some reason.”

 ​​“I wonder why,” Jason quipped, looking at her dimpling mouth hintingly. Raven let another of her low chuckles escape, curving her mouth invitingly - success! Jason rejoiced, part delightedly, part triumphantly -  and leaned forward and brushed her lips against his - alright, fine - wrinkles then teasingly nibbling his lips before withdrawing, smirking impishly and batting her eyelashes coyly. Jason growled as she licked her lips deliberately. “I’m glad you’ve been smiling more,” she whispered earnestly, the look in her eyes taking Jason's breath away. He softened and swooped to capture her lips in a kiss that made her head spin and forced a swoon out of her mouth. ​​

​​Jason wondered how she’d react to the information of her own acquired stunning wrinkles. Better not tell her, he decided lovingly, before Raven purred his name in his ear and he lost all coherent thought.​​

________________________________________________________________ ​​“A series of unfortunate Events” - references a series of rather unpleasant, old children’s books.​​“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” - A midsummer’s night dream (Puck)​​“Nobody who loves is a complete fool. And if it is, then it is divine foolishness.” The squire, his knight, and his lady by Gerald Morris (Ganscotter and King Arthur)​​If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization. - Robert Green Ingersole.​​ ​​________________________________________________________________ ​uhghhhhhhhh this was an absolute monster, @theplacewherebeautylies. “Let’s start writing! It’ll be easy! I can quit at any time” AND I CHOOSE TO MAKE A FREAKING 6341 word fic. IT’S 2AM. This is my first fic and I can already relate so much to those sleepless writer’s post. I hope you enjoy and thank you to @bluescove for beta-ing, I think it really helped!

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-One (True)

It was a usual morning: a spiral of negativity started off the day and threatened to follow me like an obsessive fan.

What was it about having this power that has made me feel so powerless? It didn’t even feel like I experienced any form of happiness. Like it was never a part of me. But that wasn’t true at all, was it? This creature had been with me far longer than I had known. It was the reason I was able to evade capture so long and be able to live a life of secrecy. But it being a part of me was also the reason why I was where I was, with the feeling of constant collapse. Not a sense of security. No. I had felt that before I became who I am now.

That was correct. Before the power, I hadn’t been so powerless. I was more secure. I had a greater sense of my mortality. I lived with my past a secret, aware of the fate I was meant to experience. Right before I became the demon, I was fated to become a different demon, and you know what? I accepted it. After years of evading and hiding, I decided that when they took me, I would not resist.

So many other versions of myself where I had led the same life and died in order to become a greater evil, the only difference I had was encountering that meddler. For a brief moment, when I had returned home and watched as my mental state crumbled before me, I had the reignited idea to resist, to defy my fate, and live the life I wanted.

But if it was a choice between being a murderous machine or an unstable entity, wouldn’t that mean that I was doomed from the very beginning? To live a life with a timer over your head signifying when you would become a sacrifice. I think if I had the knowledge of my options earlier in life, I would have dug my fingers into my skull and tore apart my brain, ending both myself and the opportunity for anyone to use me for one of their experiments.

I didn’t even think that was an option anymore. But if it was, would I choose it? ‘In a heartbeat’, is what I feel like my answer should be, but honestly, I don’t know anymore. That’s the biggest problem with what I have become. Not the dark thoughts, not the sickness that often accompanied it, but the uncertainty. The instability. How could I claim to be any happier when I had lost my grip on my emotions? I used to be able to suppress them so well, and now look at me.

Those were just a fraction of the thoughts that pervaded. Short dialogues with myself that grew into ideas of how I could rid myself of the plague that was my existence.

What didn’t help was the headache that developed right as I woke up; my eyes opened but it felt like the strings in window shutters tangled up in each other. Although my vision was blurred, beside me, I recalled what was on my arm.

“Be kind...be kind…” I croaked out the words. My mouth felt so dry. “Be kind…”

But yes. I tried to do what I could. Even as inside, the words repeated of how I was never meant to live, I felt another feeling beside me, the part of me that wanted the life of peace I had always wanted. The life where I could be next to the one I love and live out the rest of my days with her. It still felt like everything I did was an exercise in futility, but I tried. Damn it, I wanted to believe in the words on the bracelet. To be kind to myself, just as I wished to be with others.

Oh, but there were other problems, all of which also gave off a familiar feeling. There was the way in which I stood up, the room around me still so dark, many objects in the room were still shadowed outlines. Just like the morning prior, I stood and felt multiple sensations at once: first, a dizziness, followed by an increase in the intensity of my headache. Then, my stomach twisted into knots and it felt as if a vile chemistry act had been performed and the results were soon to bubble up to the surface. Violent and acidic. Too many foreign chemicals reacting to one another.

I stumbled, my dizziness, the aches of my head pulsating as I moved. I found myself to the bathroom, then I felt my consciousness fade, for just a few seconds.

That was the most mercy my body would allow me before my mouth burned as yellow-orange bile spilled forth from me and into the toilet bowl. It kept happening. I felt like that would be the way I would finally die, in a most unpleasant and undignified manner.

“Why is this happening here? This shouldn’t be happening?” I managed to squeeze the words out, somewhere between a pained moan and a croak. There were coughs, but it seemed like it was going to stop. But then another push, and a little more found its way out. I wiped my mouth, then tried to speak once more.

“At least...I don’t see any blood…” I still didn’t understand why I felt that way, but I tried to take comfort in how bad it wasn’t. “But still, why am I throwing up?”

“You have a hangover,” I heard the reply in the tone of an odd mixture of daft and matter-of-fact. “It’s quite common when you drink too much, really.”

Velvet stood at the door. I had forgotten all about her. Lost in my own head. I turned my head, my vision still a watercolor blur. Still, just from her posture, it was clear how careless she acted.

“Oh! Crap! That’s right! I was going to make orange juice for everyone so I could prevent just that, but then I passed out! God damn it, I’ll be right back!”

I heard her run off, her heels making loud thumps down the stairs. If her plan was to wake everyone else up, she might have been successful. I turned my attention back to the mess I had made, ashamed at my physical condition.

Right. Hangover. It made too much sense. Velvet would come back, to try to hydrate me. But that wouldn’t do. If I could do any magical act to make myself happier, then a hangover shouldn’t have been a big deal.

Into the kitchen I went, muttering obscenities under my breath (as opposed to real loud, because believe it or not, I didn’t want to wake the others up). I wasn’t, like, the smartest when it came to everything (yeah, yeah, real shock) but I was sure there had to be something in the kitchen to make orange juice with. If there wasn’t, then there had to be fresh oranges or something. How hard could it be to make orange juice from scratch? You just had to squeeze the things, right?

But the search was proving fruitless, no pun intended. I tried a cabinet and saw nothing but random medical supplies.

“What the heck? Who needs all these meds?” I complained, even as I tried to keep my voice low. Maybe I’d find a med to cure hangovers among the random assortment. Was worth a try, anyway. I started looking at each pill bottle, then shaking my head and tossing them on the floor.

“Nope. Nope. Not that one.”

None of these pill bottles seemed to be of any use to me. Then again, I didn’t know much about hangover cures other than “orange juice good”. Oh well, I continued my search and tossed more bottles over my shoulder.

“Trent won’t like it if he sees what you’re doing,” the gloomy voice of Verse caught me off guard and I found myself startled as I turned around.

“It...it’s not what it looks like!” I stammered.

“And what does it look like?”

I looked down, only to see a clean kitchen floor. I looked back up and saw the cabinet closed.

“What the…”

“You’re tired, Velvet. How much sleep did you get?” She asked, though I wasn’t sure how concerned she really was.

“Heh. You got me. I got a little bit, but I guess I couldn’t stay asleep for long.”

“I see.”

My eyes stayed locked on to her movements as she made her way past me and opened the fridge, then pulled out a pitcher. She brought a cup down from the cupboard above, then poured the contents of the pitcher.

“Was this what you were looking for?” She pointed to her glass of juice.

“Ho...how? What?” Ugh. She was right. I was tired. “Well, taking that for your hangover?”

“It’s already gone,” she stated. “It didn’t make me happy, so I no longer have one.”

Why are you talking like Blanc? Was what I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I kept that shit in my thoughts.

She went and sat down at the table. Eh, I guess I’d do the same. Have a bit of chit-chat. Nothing too serious.

“So today’s the big day, huh?”

She took a sip from her juice and hummed. “Mhm.”

“Think everyone’ll be okay, I mean, what with the whole partying and stuff?”

She set the glass down.

“I’ll be honest, Velvet: I still don’t want to take you or anyone else there. Regardless of anyone’s actions last night, no one would have been prepared. The chances of us being ‘okay’ are slim to none. I’m doing this anyway because you were so insistent on it and I’m sure if anyone else wants to go along, you’d be insistent of making sure they come along as well.”

“Cheery as ever, I see.”

“As long as we stick together, I’ll do everything in my power to keep everyone safe. I’m sure you’ll do the same.”

Hm. That was an improvement, I guess?

“Actually, now that you mention it, if I recall, you said that you were planning on going there anyway. What were you planning on doing there?”

“That is not your concern.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you don’t want to bring us along?”

“I think I have made my case. But yes, it does complicate matters.”

“How do you intend to carry out your plan if you want us all to stick together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I won’t go through with it. The safety of others should come first.”

“Go through with it...what were you going to go through with, assuming you were going to be alone?”

She drank from her cup again and kept her mouth on the cup, as if she was trying to avoid the question. Then, she set the cup down once again and spoke.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

“Come on! If it’s a matter of our safety, I think I ought to know!”

“It’s a matter for me, and me alone.”

“Please? You can trust me! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I didn’t come here to make friends.”

Wow. What a cliché line. Right out of a cheesy competition show where one guy just tries to be way too cocky. Was that her?

“That’s not what you said last night! You called me the ‘F’ word!”

“...Fucker.”

“No! Not that one! Friend! You said I’m a good friend!”

“I’m sorry,” she closed her eyes and looked away. “I don’t remember. I must have been drunk at the time.”

“Why, you –”

She sighed. “If you really must know, I plan to end my life.”

That struck me. I gasped and pounded my fists on the table.

“What?! Really?! You used present tense, not past! That means you still want to do such a thing!”

“Relax, Velvet. I didn’t mean anything quite so drastic. I just plan to end my life as it currently is so I can start anew. That’s all.”

“Oh. That’s. Um. Not bad, I guess?” I tried to think it over. “Wait! You’re being vague!”

“It doesn’t matter. Your focus should be on saving the world, shouldn’t it?”

Ugh. She got me there. I GUESS.

“You right. Girl, when you right, you right. Speaking of, shouldn’t I pour everyone a glass of orange juice?”

She shook her head.

“If hangovers make them unhappy, they will not have them.”

Uh. Right. Okay. I GUESS that was how it worked.

I rubbed my temple. “Sure, whatever. I’m tired. It’s 5:30 AM, the sun’s barely even out, I must be delusional. Looks like what I need is some breakfast.”

I began scouring the kitchen, opening cupboard after cupboard. To my shock, there were many cupboards full of beans, though it looked like there was a cereal box behind all those bags of beans. I just had to reach in and toss those beans aside.

“What’s with all these beans?! There should be less beans!” I complained, as I threw bags of beans behind me. “We need less beans! Less beans, I say!”

“I’m not going to say anything,” Verse replied.

I looked down on the floor and saw the mess that I had made. Then I turned to Verse and grinned.

“I guess you could say I spilled the beans, hehe.”

“How do you even function?” She groaned.

Well, first off, maybe it was the fact that I was alone in a room with someone who just the night prior considered me a friend, but I was still terrified of her and her motivations. It seemed like she wasn’t so bad, but it was still nerve-wracking. No. That wasn’t it.

It was the fact that it was the big day. When we were going to all go and I was going to try to do the thing. Was I really so confident in my ability? Sure, there was Area 51. Twice, in fact, but third strike, you’re out, right?

None of us were prepared. I knew that already. I had to know that. But I was always the one who acted reckless and made things up as she went. I wasn’t used to things being a big group, trying to protect everyone, and even then, all the times I did these outlandish self-proposed missions, I at least had an idea of what I was getting into. Instead, it’s only a suspicion that it will be difficult. That didn’t work, but all the time I had allowed myself was up and the big day was upon us.

I really wanted to be more functional and set a good example for everyone, but my confidence was being put to the test. At the very least, I ought to put myself together before everyone else woke up.

I sighed.

“I think I’ll just cook some beans…”

As I got to work, I looked back toward Verse.

“Hey, do you think the others would like beans?”

She shrugged.

“Do you like beans?” I figured since she was up, I could just ask her.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Nonsense! If we all leave this world on an empty stomach, we won’t be in good shape for battle.”

“You really are kind, aren’t you? Wanting everyone to be well.”

I shrugged. “Eh? Sure, I guess? Don’t you want everyone to be well, too?”

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just, you remind me a little of Juniper, is all.”

“I do, huh? Well, she is cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment. Hey, do you think her and I would make a good couple?”

“Watch it,” she growled.

“What? Just, like, hypothetically. You have a wife, anyway. Hey, maybe in the universe you’re from, I’m married to her and –”

“Seriously, cut that out!” Then she covered her mouth. I was a bit surprised, myself. What was so wrong with a little bit of what-ifs?

It was a bit concerning, really. It seemed like she started to shake.

“Are you okay? I was just –”

“You...you’ve got that imp. You should appreciate her more.”

Ah! That’s what it was!

“You’re right, my bad. I just got caught up in potential pairings.”

Speaking of Coriander, which was a rather spicy name, I wondered how she was doing. I imagined she was still asleep, but I hoped she didn’t drink too much.

“What are you two doing up so early?” Coriander stood just outside of the kitchen and announced her presence in a tired and weary voice. “Especially you, Velvet, you usually take forever to wake up.”

I was at a loss for words. She was right, a common theme of the morning; everyone around me being right and me looking like a total fool.

“I couldn’t sleep well,” I admitted. “Too excited, ‘cause, it’s finally going to happen.”

“And why are you eating beans?” She rubbed her eyes, as if maybe she were still dreaming. Maybe the two of us were sharing the same dream and it was quite the romantic one. Yeah. That was a legit possibility.

“Y’know, sometimes you gotta have those beans,” I told her as if it were a plausible excuse.

“Eh. I’ll stick with cereal.”

The fuck?! I was trying to go for cereal, too! This isn’t fair!

Beside me, where Verse was, I saw a hand appear on her shoulder, and Blanc popped up.

“I get what you’re about to do, but it’s not the right time,” they told Verse.

“There may not be a right time. I have to know before I go.”

“Even if it hurts others?”

“How long have you been here, Blanc?” I asked, not even surprised anymore.

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor next to the table! I just thought I’d get up because it seemed something interesting was happening!” Blanc grinned. For sure, I must have been dreaming all this.

“How are you feeling, Coriander?” Verse turned her attention to my not-girlfriend-but-may-as-well-be.

She shrugged. “Tired, but fine, I guess? Why?”

“I want to help you, but I only know one way to do so. You deserve a future.”

The next thing I witnessed was too painful to be a dream. More of a feverish nightmare.

My rest was pleasant and without interruptions. No recollections of my past self as Mavis; becoming so bloodied and beaten that it turned me crazed. The desire to replace someone. To tear myself apart, the unwanted desire. None of those memories played out.

But what did wake me up was commotion coming from the direction of the kitchen. Voices, the usual banter, that much I was sure of. But whatever the ones the two said to one another, however meaningless the banter, it stirred me awake and when I jolted up from the couch, I looked over to see Velvet and Verse in the kitchen.

Those two troublemakers, those shady fiends...I knew they had to be up to no good. But I had to rub my eyes to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing. After rubbin’ ‘em out, then blinkin’ a few times for good measure, I figured I must have been awake.

So I got up, wiped the drool off my mouth (if Velvet found out, she’d never let me live it down. I’d rather die than admit such a terrible thing), then walked up to the kitchen.

I addressed the velvet elephant in the room named Velvet who was up to her old shenanigans. I decided I’d just go with cereal, rather than...beans? Seriously? Who in their right mind would have beans for breakfast? Whatever. My mind was perfect, which meant cereal was in the cards for me.

But before I even managed to step foot into the kitchen, Blanc jumped up next to Verse, which meant there were now three people in the kitchen who were untrustworthy (I swear, nothing but fake-ass mofos in this kitchen).

Their words mostly went through one ear and right out the other, but then Verse said my name and I remembered that I was both awake, and in the realm of reality.

“How are you feeling, Coriander?” She asked. How should I answer, something like ‘I’m getting pretty fed up with all these hoes’? Nah. I had dignity to protect.

“Tired, but fine, I guess. Why?”

Her next words sounded like she was chanting some sort of spell, but they were just normal words. God damn, real life is sometimes sure creepier than any dream.

“I want to help you, but I only know one way to do so. You deserve a future.”

No. Those words were kind enough. She wasn’t too bad. She tried to help me. She tried to help me, but she was useless, just like I was, just like everyone was. There was no help. No way to change the past. No way to –

“Aah!” I cried out, a sharp pain rising, but in a spot I couldn’t quite identify. My legs felt like they had grown denser, solidified into clay, but a clay that had been weathered and was giving out and everything within felt so weak that I felt my knees drop to the floor.

I clutched my stomach – no – my chest. It ached so bad. Then there was my head. My eyes grew heavier. It felt like I was dying, like a great gravitational force weighing upon me. But that wasn’t right, either. It wasn’t like I was dying; it was like there was nothing else to do but be dying.

“Wha...what did you do to me?” The words choked their way out of me. It sounded so low, stifled, even. It felt like I was losing all my breath. All the oxygen was leaving me. There was just a weight. I was the weight.

We don’t need any dead weight. I am the dead weight.

I pounded my fists on the floor. My face was now down against it. I tried to scream, but couldn’t. I seemed to have lost the energy. As if it were my last gasping breath, I spit out the words.

“What? What did you do?!”

Velvet ran up to me and wrapped her arms around my back and chest.

“Are you okay?!” She sounded concerned. Genuinely. But it sounded so far away.

“She did something to me...I know it…” I seethed. “I feel like I’m dying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” I managed to cry out. “I just know she did something! It has to be!”

I heard Velvet speak once more:

“Did you do something to her?”

“No...I...just wanted to help her. I swear.”

That was weird. Verse’s voice also sounded concerned. But then why was I so sure she had something to do with what I was feeling, or not feeling?

Or maybe I’m just blaming my weakness on others once again.

“Just leave me to die. All of you,” I told them all. Those words sounded so soulless, but they seemed like the right ones to speak. As someone without a soul, let alone one who didn’t even deserve one.

I thought that would be it, and my consciousness would fade as my limbs fell off my body. No. Those were the only parts of me I felt like I still had. Then, my heart grew heavier, and the beating felt so front and center. An ache, and my hand clutched my chest, held Velvet’s hand tight.

I began to breathe uncontrollably; tears tore their way out from my face and would not stop.

“I’m so sorry! For who I have been! For who I still am! I need to go!” It was moving too fast, it wasn’t even a part of me. It hurt me too much to be a part of me. Rather, it was something that escaped from me.

Velvet’s hand moved up, somehow while my hand was still over hers. Did she move mine or did I just not let go? She held my chin up so that our eyes were both locked-on to each other.

“Listen to me: you don’t need to apologize for who you are. You already know I embrace every part you show to me.”

The tears continued to flow out. She wiped them.

“Will you be okay? Should we wait another day? I don’t think the world will end if we do.”

“What am I? Who am I?”

She laughed. “Avoiding the question like usual, huh? Okay, you are the artist formerly known as Birch. Also known as the cool as spicy Coriander, and maybe later you’ll change your name to Sage or Paprika. I don’t know. We’ll see, won’t we? As for what you are? Sexy as fuck.”

“Be serious, asshole,” I grumbled.

She laughed, then held me tighter.

“See? You’re still you.”

I let out a mighty sigh. That was easy to say, but it was too hard to believe. It felt like there was a part of me missing and I couldn’t even identify what that part was.

“We’re doing this. You and I, we’re going to get those bastards,” I declared. My sense of self had returned, or more like, I had retained it in spite of everything. “I’m not going to let something like this keep me down.”

I still couldn’t find my footing to get back up, but it didn’t matter. However weakened I was, I would do all in my power, even if that power was limited, to tear down The Flashbulb.

Velvet and I both scowled and fixed our gazes at Verse.

“If you did something to make her this way, you ought to speak up,” Velvet demanded. Then she got up. “I’m serious. Even if I can’t prove it, either, I trust Coriander.”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

Blanc looked over. “I told you now wasn’t the right time. I know you meant well, but you can’t always know how things will affect people.”

“What are you talking about, Blanc? Did she do something or not?”

“Ehehe...well, you see...the truth is a little more complicated.”

What’s with that nonchalant attitude? I really didn’t like them.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone!” She continued to defend herself as her voice trembled. Her lips quivered, her hands shook. “I just thought –”

“Thought what?”

“No! This isn’t right! You shouldn’t see me like this!”

Damn. She was going to wake the others up if she wasn’t careful. Then again, I was surprised I didn’t do the same.

“You should all be asleep! It would make me happy to see you all well rested and in good spirits!” She shouted.

There was that word again. Why didn’t it affect me as much? Why did it before? It just sounded so foreign now.

Without room to ponder further, I found myself grow tired and my consciousness slipped.

So there it was: the result. Should have figured it wouldn’t be so easy. Yet there I was, as I sat, and watched the three of them passed out on the floor, so easily. I carried Velvet off to her bedroom, then went back to Coriander. Blanc...they were fine anywhere. While those two I could make forget, Blanc was a little beyond my power.

Blanc stood back up. I looked over to them, my expression back to a dull and subdued one.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to stop me, being what you are.”

“I figured warning you was enough. Besides, you did a good thing, it just wasn’t good at the time.”

“I know you can make someone the happiest they can be in an instant, so why do you prefer the slow burn approach?”

They shrugged. “Feels more natural? Fun, perhaps?”

“I feel like your definition of ‘natural’ and mine are different. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for something, if you still force it, it’s not natural.”

“Hm. Mm. Yeah! I suppose so, huh?” They beamed.

“Answer me: if you can make someone happy in an instant, can you also make someone un-happy in an instant?”

“Can I?” They sounded incredulous. “I think you can! You just have that effect on people!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Is happiness even a real emotion or is it just a thing that comes from you? What about other emotions? Do they just come from other vague entities?”

“You make it sound like things created aren’t real! You’re so silly! I don’t even have to do anything, anyway, so don’t you worry, Coriander can still be happy, just like you can!”

“I never suggested anything of the sort…”

Blanc ruffled my hair, which prompted a growl from me as I tried to swat their hand away.

“Silly-willy uwuvius! You’re not someone because they look like you, and you’re not someone because they are how you act!”

“Then who am I?”

“You’re every bit the nurse I thought you were when I first met you!”

...What. Yeah. Okay. Never mind. I should have known better than to question the logic of that black-haired weirdo.

“By the way, I agree: sleep will raise your spirits! See you again in a few hours!”

I didn’t even question it when I found myself pass out on the kitchen table as if their words served as a tranquilizer dart.

Wow. What a night. I feel like I had a weird dream about waking up earlier and making beans for breakfast, something that I’d never do in real life. Not only that, but I feel like there were other things, but y’know how dreams could be. Forget most but a small fraction.

Oh well, not that important. What was important were the things in store for me. In store for all of us.

I stretched and yawned. Next to me was Coriander, the spice bae.

“I guess I should get up and shower,” I said through yawns.

Coriander stirred in her sleep. I decided to give her a little nudge.

“Hey. Hey. Wanna shower together?”

“What’s wrong with you?” She mumbled, then shoved the pillow over her head. “And why are you awake before me? This is so not fair!”

“You can say we woke up at the same time and call it even, whaddya say?” I nudged her. “C’mon and let’s get some grub!”

“Fiiiine.”

We made our way downstairs and into the sacred food place.

“I feel like shit. Like I just had a bad time or something,” Coriander complained.

“You probably had one too many drinks. Nothing coffee can’t fix, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

She seemed to be in bad spirits, but as I said, was probably just low on energy. We trudged on into the kitchen, past the mess that was the aftermath of the party held the night before. Juniper and Trent were already up, serving themselves breakfast and taking to the table, where Verse looked down at a teacup, listless. She looked up, smiled a warm smile, then greeted us.

“It’s so good to see you two!” She sounded warm, sweet, fake. “Did you both sleep well?”

I tilted my head. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“Yeah?! What gives?! I ought to sock you right here, right now!” Coriander roared.

“Whoa!” I waved my hands. “I didn’t mean to go that far! I just mean that this is pretty unusual.”

Coriander cleared her throat. “Er, yes. Sorry. Something came over me. I felt like I should be mad at you, but I’m not really sure why.”

“Fine enough,” Verse laughed. “And to answer your question, no.” Her expression changed. Lowered to the one I was more used to seeing from her. “I cannot be so positive. We must all face the realities of what awaits us.”

“Right after pancakes!” Juniper said in a sing-song voice.

I looked around. “Eh? Where’s Blanc?”

Trent shrugged. “Asleep on the couch.”

“I see…”

There was no doubt that I was no longer in some sort of haze, but maybe it was the tiredness that continued to make everything feel just a little off.

“Let’s focus on the positives for now,” Verse fixed her gaze on me. “Velvet, you have been known to work best with short time limits. If presented with a problem and a limited time to solve it, you will find a way. In short, you are badass.”

I laughed. “No need to be badass, only good and kind!”

“Which I am also not. Moving on, blue imp,” she turned her attention to Coriander.

“Uh? I have a name, asshole!” Coriander barked.

“Right. It’s just seeing you reminds me of someone else, though that other person differed from you in personality, and I know of no others of your stature with a similar personality as that person. Hm. Actually, there was one person...but I totally forgot about them.”

“Then why bring any of that up?!”

“Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I just wanted to tell you that your skills at building tech are unparalleled. No, I knew someone else once who could invent things, she was quite admirable...but that is neither here, nor there.”

“Just get to the fucking point!”

I could tell Coriander was getting pretty riled up, but I had to say, this all seemed rather trivial to me. I let those two bicker while I focused on the more important things.

“Hey Trent, where do you keep your cereal?”

“Ah, just down here,” he pointed to one of the cupboards down below. What a pain.

“All I wanted to say was that if you and Velvet put your heads together instead, you two could figure out the mechanisms within The Flashbulb’s headquarters with ease,” I heard Verse say in a huff.

“Then why bring up all those other people?! You probably made vague references to about ten!”

Damn. Did I zone out that much?

“Because if I can think about others, I won’t have to think about the demon that I am!”

“You guys, seriously?” I looked at both of them. “You’re going to fight with each other before we even get there? Whatever any of us think of each other, big deal. If we’re going as a group, we ought to try to put up with one another. Instead of going at each other’s throats, we should use that energy to fight our actual enemies.”

Sheesh. I couldn’t believe I had to scold those two. I fixed myself a bowl of cereal and sat in silence. Until everyone could agree to get along, I would ignore my surroundings and just eat.

“Sooo, how about those pancakes?” Juniper looked around.

“Juniper, I like you, but read the room,” I sighed. “Everyone’s on edge. Including me.”

“Oh. Yeah. I know. I just don’t know how else to act. I’m actually really nervous right now, too.”

I froze and looked at her hands, which shook, but she continued to eat.

“I-I know what it’s like to be scared and then want to focus on the positives. Because that’s how it is all the time. Or pretend that it’s okay. So that it will be okay. I don’t know if it will be okay, but I know that there are things that are okay. Like this pancake.”

“There is one thing that’s okay, whether or not you’ll be able to find anything positive once we enter: it’s okay to admit you’re afraid.”

“Is it okay to admit other things?”

“Like what?” I tilted my head.

“Like how I know a thing or two about putting things together, too! Not just bracelets, but...I can pick up on things pretty easily! I may not want to say so, and I may not be the best right away, but I can usually put two and two together.”

“I’m still not following.”

“That’s okay, because I am! Or rather, I’m not following!”

“Which is it?”

“I’m going there, even if I’m scared. It may kill me, but so is staying here. I’ve done so much for my brother, at the expense of myself, so I’d like to just go, for me. Not for any of you. Because to me, it’s somewhere new.”

“That’s ridiculous! That’s reckless!” Verse interjected.

“So? You can’t stop me,” she stuck her tongue out.

“Yes I can. I can just exclude you and only take Velvet and Coriander along. Easy.”

“You can, but you won’t. Because it’s too obvious.”

“What is?”

Hm. I didn’t want to say “this was getting interesting” but I sure didn’t expect it.

“You’re waaaaay too nice,” she stuck her tongue out.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Verse growled.

Juniper turned back to me. “I’m not the only one who sees it, am I?”

“What?”

“Hmm...this isn’t just a coincidence. I can feel it. But I don’t know how to explain it.”

I didn’t know either, but I think I noticed a pattern: all of us were people Blanc knew somehow. Well, except Coriander. So, maybe that wasn’t it.

“I just wonder, y’know? How me and my brother were like in that other universe Blanc met us in. And when they met this Verse person, y’know? It seemed like Blanc was hoping for this.”

Right. There was something there. Truth was stranger than fiction, but also, if Conrad taught me anything, it was that people tended to connect two very unconnected dots and make huge leaps. So, sometimes the truth was also much simpler than “aliens did it”, which was why I originally had a hard time believing the “alternate dimensions” thing to begin with.

“Blanc has a habit of wandering around a lot. I can assure you, I never met you or your brother before coming here.”

“Huh. I never said you did,” Juniper gave a blank stare. “In fact, I was just thinking that you sure don’t take long to form connections with people, do you?”

“Oh yeah. Huh. Like how you said I was a good friend last night,” I added.

“I’d rather you didn’t bring that up…” Verse growled. “I just had too much to drink. That’s all.”

“Or like how you listened to me talk about my insecurities,” Juniper added.

“Oh, same with me!” Coriander added. “Yeah, okay. You’re not so bad after all. I think I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

As opposed to what side?

“Stop that. All of you. I’m not that nice,” Verse went on the defensive.

“You said I was quite generous,” Trent also butted in.

“Okay, that one’s a reach. I was just thanking you, that’s all. Proper etiquette.”

“You’re still wearing that bracelet,” Juniper pointed out.

“I just forgot I was wearing it. My skin’s going to break out in rashes, I’m sure of it.”

“You said you would treasure it.”

“You guys are all mean! I hate you all! I’m –”

We all burst out laughing.

“Oh my god! You’re acting like such a kid!” Coriander cried out. “I wouldn’t even act like that!”

Except you have. Plenty of times.

“Let’s hurry up and finish eating. We’re leaving after. Someone wake Blanc up.”

Turns out none of us had to. Blanc jumped up and bounced around the house. Not really, but it sure felt that way.

“I feel like I missed something fun!” They complained, though sounded more like a cheer. “Tell me everything!”

Nobody answered. Blanc looked disappointed, but that expression didn’t last.

“Are you ready to go, Blanc?” I asked.

“All the time!”

Blanc left the kitchen. Soon, I did too. Then the others.

In total, it took about an hour before we were all out the door. Nobody bothered with cleaning. We must have figured we would never see that place again. There was little in the way of packing. We didn’t know what would be appropriate to take with us. I should have said there was no packing, but I knew Coriander brought along her whole workstation in her pocket. As for me, I figured my wit would be enough, even if as I already said, I had little to no knowledge of the place. I already had the feeling I was screwed. Juniper brought along a wrench. Something I didn’t even know she had.

Trent stood by the door. It didn’t seem that important of note, but he wasn’t huddled with us outside.

“Now, I can’t stress this enough,” Verse began. “We must stay together at all times. We have a greater chance of survival if we all work to protect each other and utilize each other’s strengths. There’s no telling where we’ll end up when we get there, so everyone be on your guard.”

“If you don’t know where we’ll end up, why do you think you’re going to be the expert?” Juniper argued.

“What?! Are you serious right now?! I’m out here trying to keep you all safe and you’re questioning me?!”

“Sheesh. So uptight. You’re not going to make friends with that attitude, you know.”

“This isn’t about making friends!”

“You’re just trying to put a leash on me!”

Don’t think dirty thoughts. Don’t think dirty thoughts.

“I’m trying to do the right thing!”

Again? Really? More arguing? Right when we were getting ready to go?

“You two! Stop acting like an old married couple! We need to get this show on the road!”

“Why would you say something like that?!” Both of them yelled at me.

I put my palm on my face and shook it.

Verse cleared her thought. “You’re right. Sorry,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a device. “With this, a portal will open up in front of us. Are you ready?”

Coriander and I nodded. Blanc walked in front of Verse and Juniper and bobbed their head and hummed “mhm.” Verse turned around behind her.

“What about you, Trent? We don’t have much time.”

Right. He was still at the door. Hadn’t moved.

“About that…” He looked back inside. “Well, the mess is only going to get bigger, but I think I’d like to try to clean up as much as I can. Slow the spread.”

“Just forget about it,” she shook her head. “You’re not gonna be around to see it.”

Juniper sighed. “I know this isn’t easy for you to admit, but you gotta be more direct. Verse isn’t as perceptive as she looks.”

Verse balked, but didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, you’re right,” he shook his head and smiled. “To put it simply, I’m staying behind.”

“You shouldn’t! The world will end! You should be with your sister and protect her, she’s useless on her own!” Verse protested.

“I knew you were way too nice,” Juniper looked displeased. “Didn’t you catch any of what I told him last night while we were all drinking and partying?”

“No? Why would I?”

“I told him he had to do what was right for him.”

“And?”

“And,” Trent spoke up. “It may not have much of an impact, but if there’s anyone left on Earth who could use medical attention, I’d like to be there for them. No profit motive, I just want to help people. It’s always been my thing, but I’ve just never really had the confidence to be of much help, and with all these hospitals gone, it felt that much harder. But it got me thinking. If I can scrounge up enough supplies, maybe I could move around and take care of anyone I come across.”

“That’s…”

“No, I know you want to say it’s a bad idea or something. It probably is. But it’s what I decided to do.”

“Please. After everyone else decided to go? Why?”

“Let them. I’ve just decided to do something different, that’s all,” he smiled.

“But you’ll die down here!”

“Aw, don’t think of it that way. I’d like to think it’ll happen sooner or later, so I’m just going to try to do something I wanted to do while I’m still around.”

“I’ll –” She started to get choked up. Familiar feeling. “I’ll miss you. You gave me a home when I was lost and you asked for little in return. I know I can be quite the asshole, and I might not have appreciated all that you’ve done as much as I should have, but it really meant a lot to me, and I’m proud to call you family.”

He chuckled. “Really? It was only a couple of days.”

She laughed right back. “To me, it was much longer than that.”

I felt like I stepped into a movie that was a totally different genre than the reality I existed in. I blinked. All the same people were still there.

Sure enough, the portal opened up. It looked more like a mirror, than anything. Some kind of mirror that we were just supposed to step through. An illusory mirror.

“It’s time for us to go,” Verse stepped forth and announced. “No more hesitation. Let’s go.”

Juniper followed behind. Behind even her...Blanc was there, who I saw shove both of them forward.

“LET’S GO LESBIANS, LET’S GO!” Blanc yelled.

“You just came along to yell that, didn’t you, Blanc?” I called out.

“Got me!” Blanc replied, then continued to cheer. “LET’S GO LESBIANS! LET’S GO!”

“Stop this! This is serious!” Verse commanded.

“Maybe it’s so serious that we should cheer too?” Juniper suggested.

“Hell, I’ll do it just to annoy tall angry lady,” Coriander jumped in.

“I just like the vibes! Let’s all get in on it!” I found myself saying.

Then, as a group, we entered, without knowing what awaited us there.

There wasn’t really anything for me in that place, but I went because I figured I would find something neat. Just like the others believed, in their own way, anyway. ‘Neat’ could have such a broad definition.

Actually, I considered just staying on Earth with Trent. Figured he and I could bond over things, though there wasn’t really much I knew that he and I had in common. I guess nerdy shit? Ah, but it could have been like a Beige thing. He could have relayed stories of his past and I’d learn so much more and nod along like they were such interesting tales of youth. You could learn a lot from a person just by sitting with them.

Maybe I didn’t need to learn anything. It would be nice to have some sort of company as the world was ending, someone friendly, even if there was little that company had in common with me. But in the end, I decided to explore a big maze in the void of the space between spaces.

Velvet and her gang didn’t know it yet, but I wasn’t going to stick with them. They were all cool people, but I didn’t really need to do anything. They were all capable. I was fine enough just being able to wander.

You could call it wanderlust, but that would make it sound sexual, so I wouldn’t, if I were you. Just call it wanderlike, instead. Or a platonic attraction to wandering. Wow, no. That was a mouthful. Oh well. You could figure it out if you wanted to, I wasn’t about to boggle my noggin with such noggin bogglers.

Let’s see...which way to wander…

Eenie, meenie, minie…

Left! I’ll turn left!

Okay, back to the ladies. Ciao.

We arrived at a vast corridor. Dimly lit, almost darkness. Some sort of pulsating lights, but a glow that seemed to be no discernible hue.

“Okay,” Verse announced. “Now that we’re here, our first order of business should be –”

“Whoa! Cool!” Juniper looked around, totally cutting off Verse’s order. “This place is so cool!” Then, she ran off straight ahead.

“No! No it’s not! Get back here! Hey!” Verse called to her, then ran off as well.

I was dumbfounded.

“Really? After she made such a big deal of us sticking together?” I threw my hands up.

“I knew it. Can’t trust tall ladies,” Coriander shook her head. “Especially can’t trust girls with pigtails.”

I looked behind me.

“What? Blanc’s gone too?”

“Yup. Can’t trust people with black hair, either.”

I turned toward Coriander and smirked.

“Guess it’s just you and me, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“What do you say? ‘Til death do us part?”

“Sure,” she snorted. “Whatever that means. If I’ll be rid of you once we’re both dead, I’m in.”

We both bumped elbows and ran toward the hallway and turned right, where we hoped something would get figured out along the way.

[builder051]

Reassurance

This is part 3 of Hildur and Pierce’s long-ass story arc.  Find part 1 here and part 2 here.  Expect ~10 more parts over the course of the year.

This is all plot with very little whump.  I also needed a time and place to get technical about the disappearing sickness, so here it is.

Also, kind of the introduction of a new OC??  She’s only going to be a side character for H and P for now, but maybe later on I’ll debut her on her own.

_____

Hildur leans against Pierce and shifts uncomfortably on the hard waiting room sofa.

“You feel ok?” Pierce asks, lifting his arm from around her shoulders.  Probably just in case she needs to bolt.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Hildur murmurs.  She’s been queasy on and off all morning, but for now she feels alright.  “Just…  I don’t know.  Nervous?”

She knows her anxiety is obvious.  Her hair’s been shimmering white-blonde for hours.  She’s glad the pallor is stable instead of flickering and letting every passerby in on her problems, but it doesn’t give her peace of mind.

If she disappears, what does that mean for the life growing inside her?  She doesn’t know what happens to her own cells when her body shifts out of sight, let alone what an episode will do to the baby.  The worry’s been playing in the back of her mind for days.  Curiosity and anticipation make her sweat each time she thinks of getting on Web MD and looking it up.  What if there’s only bad news?  What if she’s already failing at being a mother?

Hildur tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and doesn’t quite make eye contact with Pierce.

“It’s ok,” he says with a soft chuckle.  He’s not exactly calm either.

“You didn’t have to come,” Hildur says, though it’s a lie.  She’d be even more of a wreck without him.  “Your students are probably missing you.”

“They love it when I cancel class.”  Pierce grins.  “And, um.  I’d always rather be with you.”

It’s too sweet.  Hildur swallows, unsure whether she’s pressing down nausea or guilt.

A medical assistant in pink scrubs appears in the waiting room doorway.  She squints at the clipboard in her hand.  “Hilda?” she tries.

“Um.  Ok.”  Hildur can’t find the words or confidence to correct her pronunciation, so she just gets to her feet.

“Come on back,” the assistant says.  “Your husband can come too.”

“We’re…  Hm.”  Hildur doesn’t correct that assumption either.  Pierce stands and laces his fingers through hers.

They walk back to an exam room.  Hildur sits on the crinkly paper-covered table and stares awkwardly at the wall as the assistant takes her vitals.

“Your heart rate’s a little high,” the assistant says.  “But everything looks good.”

Hildur manages a nervous smile.

“Your midwife will be with you in a moment.”

“Midwife?” Pierce asks when the door closes behind the assistant.  “Not, uh, not a doctor?”

Hildur shrugs.  “I just…took the first appointment I was offered.”

“Yeah, well…”  Pierce perches on the edge of the exam table and puts his arm around Hildur’s shoulders again.  “I don’t know anything about, you know, how this works.”

“Neither do I.”  Anxiety ripples down Hildur’s spine, and she takes a slow breath.  Her hand trembles slightly on her knee, and veins show prominently through the pearl-white skin.  She retracts her fist into the cuff of her sweater.

A moment passes in silence.  Hildur feels almost nauseous again, and she’s not sure if Pierce’s comforting body heat is making it better or worse.

A knock on the exam room door makes both of them jump.  A petite woman enters and flashes a grin.  She looks to be Hildur’s age, with skinny jeans beneath her white coat and blonde highlights in her short afro.

“Hey,” she says.  “I’m Kris.  Great to meet you.”  The midwife holds out her hand.  “Hildur, right?”

“Mm hm.”  Hildur nervously returns the handshake.

“Fantastic.”  Kris moves on to Pierce.  “And I’m guessing she’s your better half?”

“Oh.  Um, yeah,” he fumbles.

“Well, alright.  Fantastic,” Kris repeats.  She pulls a rolling stool from the corner and sits across from the exam table.  She opens a folder across her lap and skims the papers inside.

Hildur feels herself blanch again.  The hair in her peripheral vision shifts subtly toward silver.

“I know new experiences are always hard,” Kris says, looking up.  “But we’re just talking.  Nothing to be nervous about.”

Hildur bites her lip and nods, but her color continues to slip anyway even though she wills it not to.

“It’s ok.  This is not a place of judgement.”  Kris smiles warmly and looks back to the file.

Hildur’s glad for the kindness, but her embarrassment keeps spiraling.  This woman is going to ask questions, learn about her life.  Learn about her body.

It’s alright.  It’s her job.  But Hildur sits there, as close to tears as she is to disappearing.  She can’t stand it anymore.

“Will it hurt the..?  If I..?”  A gasp of a sob escapes her lips, and she presses her hand over her mouth.

Pierce hugs her tightly.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“That’s been a big worry of yours, huh?” Kris says.  “Disappearing?”

Hildur nods.  Her eyes well up, and she blinks to keep the teardrops from falling.  Sweat prickles across the back of her neck as a new wave of nausea hits.

“Well, let me tell you.”  Kris flips a few pages in the file and pulls out a printed page, the name of a medical journal prominent at the top.  “All research is pointing to no.  Women with Achromasia Nervosa are giving birth to healthy babies, even if they suffer episodes while pregnant.”

Pierce lets out his breath, and Hildur can practically hear his relieved smile.

“There’s not a lot of research on the topic,” Kris continues.  “It’s a rare condition.  I mean, try finding someone outside of the medical field who even knows what it is.  Heck, some doctors don’t even know what it is.”  She rolls her eyes, then shakes her head to bring the seriousness back.  “But you’re gonna be ok.  Your baby’s gonna be just fine.”

Hildur lets it sink in.  “Ok,” she breathes.  “Good.”  But she still has questions.  She swallows and stutters out, “But…but will he…will the baby have it too?”

Speaking the words brings a lump to her throat.  The last thing she wants is to doom this child to a life of anxiety and ridicule.  If she has to watch her child go through the same cycle of fear and bullying and internalized pain…  It’ll be as torturous as going through it herself all over again.

“Well,” Kris starts.  “I’m not gonna lie to you.”  She folds her hands on top of the article in her lap.  “It’s carried on a recessive gene.  So, if he’s a carrier,” she gestures at Pierce, “It’s a very real possibility.”

She pauses a beat, but Hildur has nothing to say.  She bows forward slightly, pressing her hands into her knees.

“We can do genetic testing,” Kris offers.  “It wouldn’t be covered under your insurance, but that’s an option you definitely have.”

Hildur knows she couldn’t begin to afford it.  She’d never expect Pierce to pay for it either.  And they’d both probably be too nervous to open the envelope and read the results anyway.  She presses her lips together, praying the sick feeling rising in her chest will go away.

Pierce leans in close to her ear.  “Sweetheart?  You ok?”

“Hm.”  Hildur’s palms are clammy.  She isn’t sure if she’s feeling anxiety or actual nausea.  “I’m just…kind of, I don’t know.”

“Do you need to take a minute?” Kris asks, toeing the rolling stool back a few feet.  “Get a little bit of air?”

“I…maybe.”

Pierce retracts his arm, and Hildur shifts so her feet find the floor.  She suddenly feels shaky and uncoordinated.

Kris opens the exam room door.  “Let me just show you where the bathroom is, ok?  Take your time.”

Hildur follows her down the hall.  The fluorescent lights overhead seem too bright, their glare off the polished floor too harsh.

“There you go.”  Kris points to a heavy wood door with an all-genders restroom sign posted beside it.  She pats Hildur’s arm.  “You’re gonna be alright.  I know it’s a lot.”

Hildur still can’t decide if she actually feels sick.  She doesn’t want to go into the bathroom; the sight of the toilet will probably start her gagging.  The clot of emotion in her throat will start spilling too.

She reaches for the door handle, but changes her mind.  She looks desperately at Kris and buries her face in Kris’s lab coat as the shorter woman pulls her into a hug.

[starwitness42]

Holding the Stick (2/?)

Alec Lightwood has dreamed of hoisting Lord Stanley since he was eight. It's in his blood. He's spent the last five years trying to make that dream a reality, only managing to fall short each time.

Until a scandal leads to a multi-team trade that sends Magnus Bane his way. One of the top performing wingers in the league. An up and coming star.

And the most handsome man Alec has ever met.

He's doomed.

Chapter One

Magnus Bane has lost his cell phone. And perhaps his mind. But while it is entirely possible that he threw the former in the toilet last night because it would not shut up, he’s pretty sure the latter has been in the toilet for years. Decades, maybe even.

He’s saving the bathroom for last in his search because he does not wish to face that eventuality until he has exhausted all of his other options. And it’s not because he cannot afford a new phone – he could afford one made of solid gold, studded with diamonds if he were so inclined. But that phone contains some of his favorite photographs, many of them of stray felines that he comes across in his worldly travels. And if there’s one thing he has learned from watching far too much reality television it’s that you never put anything on the cloud.  

He finds it eventually underneath his pillows when he remembers that he shoved it there at some point because even with the ringer off and the phone face down, it was still emitting too much light for his sleep deprived eyes to handle. But when he flips it over and looks at the newly lit up screen, he starts to wish that he’d thrown it in the commode after all.

His texts are in the triple digits, and his voicemails aren’t much better. Which is strange given that most of the people he knows loathe actually speaking into a cell phone, even if they’re only speaking to an automated box. But there is one name that is sure to be mixed in repeatedly with all the rest on both ends, and so Magnus takes a deep breath and dials because when you’re ripping off a band aid, there is no point in doing it slowly.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cat asks before Magnus can even say hello.

“To the same place your civility has gone, I imagine,” he replies dryly. Literally dryly. After having slept for roughly eighteen hours straight, his mouth is so parched it feels sticky.

“I’ve been worried sick about you, Magnus,” she says, and he can hear that now. Her concern. Which is cute, given the way he hired her eight years ago because she was the biggest shark he could find.

“Now Catarina, why would you ever be worried about me? I am like a cat, remember? Throw me off a roof and I will simply land on my feet.”

“If you threw a cat off a roof it would splatter on the ground like a watermelon.”

Magnus pulls a face that Cat cannot see, so he makes sure the expression is latent in his voice when he says, “You are quite vile sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes. You. Last week.”

“That does sound like something I would do.”

“It sounds like something you just did,” she bites out, and something about the tone of her voice makes Magnus smile in spite of how she is clearly very, very annoyed with him.

“How did your meeting with the team go?” she asks before he can put into words how pleased he is to have her in his life, hissing in his ear.

“I told you how it went.”

“No, you sent me a text that said, and I quote: Met my new captain and my new coach. Coach seems nice. Captain is very tall. Looks like he’d be fun to climb though I’m not sure I’d be willing to risk the bark burn. And then you added three poo emojis and disappeared for twenty-four hours.”

“You did not call the cops, did you? Because I hear that they make you wait a full forty-eight before they’ll even listen to your pleas.”

“Magnus.”

He groans. “I was sleeping, Catarina. I passed out, probably drunk, and slept almost an entire day away in order to escape the reality of what my life has become. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can catch them. And it’s embarrassing really, the way his hand literally rises to clasp over his mouth like some appalled character in a bad romcom. But apparently eighteen hours wasn’t enough to erase the hangover that comes with being outed on national television.

“Do you need me to come there?” she asks after a pause that feels worse than much of the last few days.

“You know how I feel about you acting thoughtful. It creeps me out.”

“Mags-”

“I do not need you to come here, Catarina,” he interrupts, using her full name because he does not wish for her to think that they are friends at the moment, even though she is the single best one he has.

“I have a morning skate to get to, teammates to bond with, and a game tonight. My schedule is all full up. Perhaps I can pencil you in for some hand holding sometime after the holidays.”

“Magnus.”

“You’re breaking up,” he says, making cracking sounds into the phone for effect even though he’s used that trick on her so many times she no longer believes it, if there were ever a single day when she did. “I need… to… f… you’re…”

He hits end and stuffs his phone back under his pillow before heading in to take a quick shower, because he knows if he brings the damn thing into the bathroom with him, it’s going in the toilet.

He is in a taxi roughly an hour later, which is roughly thirty minutes past when he was supposed to be at some place called Johnny’s Ice House for his morning skate. And he should really be concerned about being late his first time doing anything with his new team, but he’s fairly certain that if he had not spent the last half hour standing under a spray of scalding water, he would have ended up falling back into bed and not coming out at all.

The skate is optional, but Magnus knows that really only means for everyone else. As the new guy, his options are limited.

He also probably could have asked the team to send him a car, another limo perhaps, or a fancy Lincoln. But Magnus likes cabs. The foul smell, the cracked leather, and the deep feel of anonymity that he is currently enjoying, sunglasses strapped to his face and his head leaned back against the seat as he tries to steal a few more moments of peace before his day begins.

Before his new life begins.

“Is there any time of day when this city’s streets are not backed up?” he asks because sometimes, when he is bored and miserable, he likes to seek out idle chitchat with anyone that will have him.

Once, he spent forty-five minutes talking to a light pole. Granted, he did not know that it was a light pole for at least the first twenty or so minutes of the conversation, thank you tequila! But even after he realized his mistake, he still spent another twenty-five minutes chatting her up because he felt bad about just ditching her once he saw her for what she truly was.

“Not really,” the driver says solemnly in response to Magnus’ question. “There’s always somebody going somewhere. Or a lot of somebodies going a lot of somewheres.”

That… was an incredibly boring response. But in the driver’s defense, Magnus hadn’t exactly given him an Oscar worthy pitch. And so he’s racking his brain for a better conversation starter than might-as-well-have-asked-about-the-weather-traffic when the driver says, “You’re Magnus Bane, aren’t you?”

Something cold settles in Magnus’ stomach as he swallows through a strange lump that has mysteriously appeared in the center of his throat.

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, refusing to lift his head as he waits for whatever potentially derogatory thing the man will have to say next.

But instead of some sort of homophobic slur, he just says, “I’m glad you’re here. Our top line has been one-third shit for years.”

Magnus does tip his head up then, letting his sunglasses slide down his nose so that he can peer over them at the very husky, very blue-collar man currently holding his life in his could-crash-the-cab-at-any-moment hands. And as the man glances up at the rearview mirror, Magnus can see a smile on his lips. Which is… unexpected.

He says, “Thank you,” because he cannot seem to conjure any better words.

The man nods. “No, thank you. And fuck Detroit.”

That… was an odd thing to say. But the man says it with such enthusiasm, such heart, that Magnus finds himself echoing an even more rousing, “Yes, fuck Detroit indeed!” because clearly, it is very important to this dear hearted man that they… well… fuck Detroit.

Lightwood is waiting for him in the lobby of the rink once he arrives, and he can clearly see through the plate glass doors that he is pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, his hands shoved in his pockets, his head turned down to the ground. And it makes Magnus feel like he’s just been pulled out of class by an announcement over the loudspeaker, asking him to go to the principal’s office.

Not like that ever happened to him, of course. He was a perfect angel in school.

Lightwood looks incredibly put out when Magnus enters, though, stone cold hazel eyes sliding up to his face. And so the only words Magnus can find for the occasion are, “Sorry I’m late.”

He is not actually sorry, but he is late, so technically it is not a full lie.

“What?” Lightwood asks. “No. You’re not. I mean, you are, I guess, but Coach G is pretty lax with morning skates on game days, so you’re not late late. I was just… I wanted to make sure I was here. To greet you. That’s all.”

“That is very kind of you, Lightwood,” he says, but something about Magnus’ words makes his new captain’s face scrunch up like he just bit into a lemon. And not in the good salt and tequila shots way.

“Please, call me Alec. Lightwood is my father.”

Magnus remembers Robert Lightwood, one of the fiercest defensemen the Devils have ever seen. Alec comes from a long line of D-men, actually, like it is the family business. Only in that he at least managed to carve a small path of his own by becoming a forward.

“Then that is kind of you Alec,” Magnus corrects as he paints on a smile that he hopes looks at least moderately genuine.

“Can I… what do you like to be called? Bane or Magnus or-”

“Magnus is fine,” he interrupts gently, because he’s already getting the impression that that is one of the only ways to get Alec to stop stammering.

“Good. Great. Magnus. Welcome to the Ice House. If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where we gear up.”

For a privately owned practice rink outside of the stadium, this place is fairly impressive. But he’s spent the last four years of his career playing for a team that doesn’t even have an NHL caliber stadium yet, and so anything, really, is remarkable by comparison.

He feels instantly on edge once Alec points him to a locker with a practice jersey waiting for him, however. Because he’s been in locker rooms before, changed in front of countless men over the course of his career, but he’s never been in a room with just one other person like this. And given how tall, dark and handsome that other person is, there’s a very logical explanation for why Magnus’ throat is suddenly dry once more.  

Alec doesn’t seem to mind the situation, as evidenced by the way he strolls over to his own locker, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he moves. And Magnus is about to do the same as he takes a seat on the bench in front of his stall, he really is. He’s still a professional, after all. But then Alec sort of turns to the side and Magnus catches sight of a six-pack ending in a rather strange looking tattoo just over Alec’s left hip. And for a few moments, his brain simply stops functioning as it should.

“Magnus?” Alec asks some time later, there is really no way for Magnus to be sure how long. 

When Magnus looks up, it is obvious that he has been caught in the act of staring. But while some men might look at him with disgust – hell, some men on this team might look at him with disgust for daring to ogle their half-naked form, Alec seems… confused. Like he cannot comprehend why someone like Magnus would want to stare at someone like him.

“I’m back,” Magnus says with the brightest smile he owns. But his response only makes Alec’s face scrunch up more. And really, this is too much for so early in the day.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for the second time this morning. “I was just… um… admiring your ink. Your tattoo, I mean. It’s very… interesting.”

“Oh!” Alec says like now he gets it, which is far too adorable of a response for its own good. “Yeah, Jace and I got matching ones when we got drafted.”

“What is it?” he asks, as in an ironic twist of fate, Magnus actually finds himself legitimately interested in the strange design gracing Alec’s skin.

The question, however, does nothing to help Magnus’ other problems as the conversation actually prompts Alec to take a half dozen steps back in Magnus’ direction, like he wants to make sure Magnus gets a good look at the tattoo in question.

Attractive men should not be allowed to be that tall. Or that straight.

“It’s a Norse rune,” Alec says in this teacher voice that certainly does not make Magnus think things. “Jace is sort of obsessed with Norse mythology. He thinks he’s descended from Vikings.”

“Is he?”

Alec snorts. “No. But try convincing him of that. Anyway, like I said, this is one of their runes. It’s called oo-rooze. U-R-U-Z. It’s supposed to be for, like, strength and stamina and stuff.”

Alec is so close now, the tattoo in Magnus’ direct sight line, near enough to touch. And he has to literally restrain himself from reaching out to run his fingers along the mark because as much as Alec seems comfortable with sharing tales of teenage tattooing with him, Magnus is fairly certain that he is not up for fondling of any sort.

“Does it work?” he asks if only because he assumes that talking will keep him from drooling.

“I don’t know. I haven’t properly tested it out yet.”

That answer is… weird. Very, very weird. And Magnus cannot figure out why he finds it so weird until he trails his eyes up to Alec’s face and catches that something flash in his eyes again. That darkness from yesterday.

It’s gone within the span of a breath, though, and so is Alec. Magnus’ eyes stuck on the strong line of his shoulders as he makes his way back to his stall to gear up for practice. And Magnus follows suit this time for lack of anything more inappropriate to do.

Really, he usually has far more common sense and self control than this.

They take the ice together, Alec leading the way and Magnus following him. And he is so lost in the sensation of skates on ice again – something he honestly thought for a hot minute that he would lose once Cat called him and told him of the bomb that was about to drop on him – that he doesn’t realize that there is a man-shaped projectile coming at him until there are arms around his waist.

“Mags!” someone screams.

And there is actual joy in his own voice when he replies, “Raph!” as he allows Raphael to skate him all the way back to the boards.

In all of the hoopla, he had completely forgotten that Raphael Santiago has been playing for the Blackhawks for the past two years. But it is a gift here, now, to come to that discovery because at least there is one familiar face to latch onto as he moves forward.

“You two know each other?” Alec asks from where he is standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side like he is trying to analyze the scene before him.

“We used to play Bantam together,” Magnus says through the newly acquired looseness in his throat.

Alec looks to Raphael. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Sorry, mom,” Raphael bites out. “I didn’t know I had to tell you who every single one of my friends was.”

Magnus is in the process of feeling appalled at how Raphael is speaking to his very kind, very tall captain, when said very kind, very tall captain says, “Fuck off, Santiago.”

Something may fritz a little bit in Magnus’ brain at that.

“Swear jar!” someone yells from behind Alec. The goalie, Lewis, first name Simon, Magnus thinks. Short but fast in the crease if he remembers correctly.

“You have a swear jar?” Magnus asks in surprise. But Wayland is the one to answer him, Jace, from where he skates up and rests beside Alec.

“Not all of us, just him,” he says as he wraps his arm around Alec’s shoulders. “The rest of us get to cuss like fucking sailors.”

“Fuck off, asshole,” Alec says as he shrugs Jace off of him. But he is actually doing something very odd here, Alec is. He is smiling. And not the ones Magnus is used to seeing on him, from the pictures in the papers of Alec and his beautiful, blonde girlfriend. There’s something devious in this one, something of the devil hidden at the edges, and it quite literally takes Magnus’ breath away.

“You know you love me, fucker,” Jace says with a wink as he skates backwards towards the center of the rink.

“In your dreams, dickhead!” Alec shouts after him.

But Jace just smiles even wider and replies, “Dreams, dick, and head? What the hell do you think about when you fall asleep at night?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Alec says before he skates off after Jace. And then he is on him. He is putting Jace in a headlock. He is tackling Jace to the ice. He is straddling Jace’s hips. And the pair of them are laughing. Laughing. And Magnus is so dizzy that he needs to lean against the boards just to stay upright.

“You all right there buddy?” Raphael asks a moment later, and Magnus has to blink out at him about a dozen times just to course correct.

“He has a personality,” he says almost weakly, because he’s shocked, plain and simple.

All he has ever seen of Alec Lightwood is what the news portrays. The sweet, buttoned up guy in the post games, or the tightly smiling, All American Poster Child with his perfect girlfriend who is also an athlete of some sort because of course she would be. Like a tennis player, probably. He seems like the type of guy that would date a tennis player. Only he’s not that guy. He is surly, gritty, and apparently lightly salted and Magnus has never felt so deceived in his entire life.

The media has lied to him, all this time. He really should file some kind of grievance.  

“Yeah, if you can call it that,” Raphael says. “Most of us just say that our captain is a raging dick.”

“I heard that!” Alec calls out from where he is still mock pummeling Jace on the ice.

“You were meant to, douche bag!”

And Magnus… well, frankly he has no idea what to do with any of this. But color him intrigued. And a little turned on.

Okay, after that thing in the locker room, more than a little turned on.

Since he is being paid to be here, however, being paid to play hockey, he shakes himself free of his own unhelpful thoughts and makes his way to the ice, finding more strength and focus the further he gets from the boards. And it feels good, he thinks. There is something about this team that feels good.

This team that appears to be entirely present today, even though they don’t have to be. This team that swears and laughs and jokes around in ways that his previous two NHL teams did not. This team that is young and vibrant and talented, sitting on the cusp of something great that they can all no doubt feel but something that has clearly not robbed them of the joy of this game. This team that is his now. And so even though he still has no idea what exactly it means, he finds himself thinking only two words that feel almost like a war cry as he joins the huddle currently forming around Coach G:

Fuck Detroit.

Detroit is lovely! I do not hate Detroit! But Hawks fans hate the Wings like nobody's business (not as much as the Blues, but still). And so "Fuck Detroit" is actually something that gets said around the city quite a lot. I feel like I might be apologizing to cities a lot in this fic...

[forever-product-blog]

Live music concerts in Montreal

Sales of concert and festival tickets in oklahoma have, without doubt, boomed over the last four or five years. Surprisingly, this has coincided with a global recession that has seemingly decimated consumers' spending power across virtually every other market sector. But is this a coincidence? Is it all down to the fact that people can forget their financial troubles whilst losing themselves in the excitement of a live concert? In reality, the exponential growth in concert ticket sales is neither a coincidence, nor a natural reaction to the doom and gloom generated by irresponsible banks and sky-high interest rates charged by credit card issuers. What's happened with ticket sales in the concert and festival sector is all about the changes that have taken place in that sector over the last ten years, and nothing whatsoever to do with other external considerations.

When I first started going to concerts in the mid 1970′s, the shows were wonderful, the excitement tangible, but, if I'm being honest, my memories are tinged with the warm glow of nostalgia and are viewed through the rose tinted spectacles that the passing of time inevitably provides. Reality check! The sound was usually terrible - a wall of muddy noise blaring out from inadequate PA systems; the stage lighting could probably be compared to what you'd see at the average school play in this day and age; the security guards were usually local, neanderthal thugs looking for a good scrap, and if you went to a concert in a cavernous arena that had a capacity of more than 5,000, then the band you were supposedly watching were little, dancing dots somewhere very far away in the distance.

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But things are very different these days. The advancement of technology has resulted in PA systems becoming 'state of the art', stage lighting that would put the lights on the spaceship in 'Close Encounters Of The Third Kind' to shame and screens and video-walls that enable even a concert goer stuck in a far flung corner of a football stadium to have the same birds-eye view of the stage as any fan in the front row. The food is gourmet (if you want to pay for it), the alcoholic drinks are varied and sophisticated, the toilets actually flush and the thuggish security guards have been re-branded as friendly, helpful 'stewards'. Also, the advent of the internet offers the ticket buyer a plethora of options in regard to how we transact a ticket purchase. We no longer have to queue outside a theatre box-office in the freezing cold, we can now buy our concert tickets in oklahoma from the comfort of home or office with a few clicks of a computer mouse. And even when we're on line, we are offered multiple purchase-points, ranging from reputable ticket agencies to ethical ticket exchanges. However, it isn't just technology that has improved the general concert going experience; the attitude of promoters and artists has gradually changed over the last twenty years, to the point where the paramount concern is giving the punter who buys a ticket more bang for his or her buck. This scenario should've happened a lot sooner, but maybe the correct perspective on this should be that evolution, if it brings about the right, lasting changes, is just as commendable as the quick fix of revolution. So when we rush to buy our concert and festival tickets in oklahoma, we do so in the knowledge that, as consumers, we're being treated with the respect that we deserve.

So are there any lessons that other market sectors could learn from the concert and festival industry? Maybe there's just one...if you take your customers for granted when times are good, you can be sure that they'll desert you when times are tough. I'm glad to say that the live music industry fixed the roof whilst the sun was shining, so it's not surprising that they're selling bucket loads of concert tickets in oklahoma, even though we're being soaked by a proverbial rain-storm.