#because it meant that he could finally discover himself without needing to be useful for anyone

[artemx746]

something something if Ethan lived he and Alabaster would have the same arc in different directions

[judebelle]

Comforting gavi bc of his injury 🥹

it'll be okay - p.g. x reader

a/n : couldn't find a gif of him in the spain vs georgia match but gavi get well soon!

cw : fluff, angst, pablo in pain, injury, poor medical references, me using my limited knowledge of acl injuries lmao, reader not knowing how to comfort him, swearing, barely edited

wc : 1.6k

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

---

the one game.

the one game you couldn't make it to was the one game that you needed to be at the most.

your boyfriend, pablo gavi, was playing for spain in a euro qualifier. you had an exam that day, so you couldn't be there to support him.

"no te preocupes, baby. good luck on your exam." (don't worry, baby. good luck on your exam.)

that was the last text your boyfriend sent you after you apologized again for not being there for him, even though you were already right outside your exam room.

with his reassurance, you stepped into the room and tried your best on the exam.

you weren't sure as to why pablo had to start for this match. spain had already qualified and he was already overworked as it was, but you didn't question his coach and managers and just brushed it under the rug.

unbeknownst to you, pablo had suffered an injury during the match. as you completed your exam, unaware of the events unfolding on the field, pablo battled through the game with determination. eventually, the fatigue took its toll, and he found himself nursing an injury that would later reveal itself as a full tear of his acl as well as an associated injury to his lateral meniscus.

your absence from the game meant that the news of his injury remained hidden from you, leaving you unsuspecting of the challenges he faced without your support.

you exited the exam hall, confident that your relentless studying had paid off. you opened your phone, intending to message pablo about your exam. you completely forgot about his match until you saw a ridiculous amount of notifications on your lock screen. as you scrolled, your heart sank upon discovering the news. shock and concern shook you as you read the details of your boyfriend's injury.

many reports outlined the severity of the situation, describing how pablo had most likely torn his acl during the match. a wave of guilt and empathy washed over you as you absorbed the gravity of the news. instantly, you dialed pablo's number, desperate to speak with him.

your heart sank at the monotone beeps that met your ear. stupid idea, he wasn't going to pick up the phone when his whole fucking knee was messed up. you realized that you were too far from the stadium to rush over there, so you sent him a few texts notifying him of your knowledge of the situation and made your way to your shared home.

---

you knew that there was not much you could do in terms of helping with the injury. all you knew was that pablo will be gutted when he gets back. you weren't an expert, but you saw the clip of the injury and the tears that spilled from his eyes. this was a serious injury and he would have to sacrifice a good chunk of the season recovering.

that's when a guilty feeling settled in your chest. you would've no doubt, skipped your exam to be there had you miraculously known what was in store for him. maybe if you were in the stands, you would've been able to see if he was okay and talk to him.

as you entered the house, you hurriedly kicked off your shoes and washed your hands, getting the house as comfortable for him as possible. you fixed up the bed, put a few ice packs in the freezer, and started making his comfort foods.

being an athlete means that pablo is always on a pretty strict diet, but you snuck in a few treats in his bed side drawer because you knew he'd need them.

after what seemed like an eternity of waiting and anxious preparing, you finally heard buzzing from your phone.

"hello? pablo?"

you heard a pained grunt and some shuffling before he strained out,

"y/n.."

"oh, thank god you're okay! what's happening? any updates yet? when are you coming home?"

pablo interrupted your rambling with a soft laugh, almost forced, before speaking. "despacio, mi amor," (slowly, my love.)

you pause your tangent, freezing in place and waiting for him to say something. you're about to start speaking again when you hear the front door start to open pablo's voice on the phone.

"i'm home."

---

two men walked beside him in case he needed assistance walking through the front door, but he was more than capable on his crutches. you dropped the phone from your hand as you saw pablo walking in from your place in the kitchen. you rushed over and he sent you a tight lipped smile. he told the two men that they're good to leave, and they did.

you finally walked closer to him, wanting to throw yourself onto him but stopping once you remembered his condition. you huffed in annoyance before ultimately pushing your lips against his fiercely, but not too hard.

he kissed back, but couldn't wrap his arms around you as he needed to hold his crutches to stand. you broke away and looked down at his knee. he was wearing a grey tracksuit, but you could see something under his pants on his left knee, most likely a brace of some sort.

"pablo, you have no idea how confused i am.. what happened? tell me everything!" you led him to the kitchen while walking beside him incase he needed help. he begins to fill you in on how he was challenged during the match and he didn't quite turn right, and his knee was already hurting from the beginning of the match, but they told him to play on.

"they ran some tests. i don't know what the results are yet, but they're quite sure that i completely tore my acl and injured my meniscus. if they're right.. i could be out for around nine months. my season is done.."

you had no idea what exact muscles and tissues and bones pablo was naming, but yo knew that acl injuries were no joke, and needed to be taken seriously. also knowing pablo, he plays passionately and has had a great season so far. the fact that it's being cut short is not fair to him.

nothing is.

"ai.." you hissed sympathetically "well, i don't know much about acl's, but i do know that you need to rest properly. and you being the stubborn man that you are, i will be here to make sure you do exactly that, okay?"

you didn't give him time to respond before placing some plates and bowls on a tray and taking them upstairs, telling pablo to stay put. you hurried back downstairs before helping up the stairs, letting him use the crutches as well.

after a few minutes, he was upstairs and into bed. you sat beside him on the bed, his head turning when he felt it dip.

"i smell food.." he smiles sheepishly as you giggled. he must've been hungry after the match. you lifted the tray from the table beside you and placed it beside him. you placed a pillow under his head, making sure he was sitting slightly upright.

you sat crisscrossed beside him and took a spoonful of a soup you made him, blowing lightly as you smiled at him. he was waiting patiently while looking up at you. you brought the spoon to his lips and tilted so he could sip. you did this until the bowl was empty.

pablo, once again being the stubborn man he is, tried to tell you that he didn't need all the fuss, and that you could relax. well, you were even more stubborn. you let him sip water through a straw before turning on his favorite show on low volume on the tv.

"baby, i don't need all this-"

"shh, just relax, cariño. let me take care of you.."

you layed beside him and moved his head to lay slightly on your chest, his eyes still fixed on the sreen.

you had propped up his right leg, under a spare pillow, making sure to keep an eye on it. the doctors would be doing frequent visits and you were determined to make his healing process as smooth as possible.

"you really are an angel, you know that, y/n?" he looked up at you, the glare from the tv shining in his brown eyes.

"you've only told me that a hundred times, guapo." you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

he hummed softly at the contact, needing the relief.

"i just... i wish i didn't have to miss the whole season. i was doing really well.. it's not fair."

"i know it isn't, pablo. if you ask me, you shouldn't have been starting that match. you need your rest, you're still young."

he huffed in annoyance, letting out all his frustration.

the room fell silent, the faint sounds of the show you had turned on filling the air.

"y/n..?" he whispered gently. he sounded nervous.

you hummed in response.

"what if - when i return - i'm not in the same shape that i was.. what if i can't play well anymore?"

his words broke your heart. he shouldn't have to worry about this at his age. you sighed softly, your hand running through his soft locks. his eyes fluttered shut. he always liked when you did that.

"you won't have to worry, baby. as long as you rest properly, and take it easy, you will be fine. the more you worry, the worse it will get. just.. just let me take care of you. everything will be okay. it will fall into place."

his lips stretched into a soft smile, your words calming him. your hand was still running through his hair, making pablo's adam's apple bob up and down.

"i love you." he whispered, his eyes opening to look into your eyes as he said it.

you bit your lip and smiled softly.

he looked so cute.

"i love you too."

you pressed your lips to his again before leaning into each others warmth.

you both drifted off to sleep.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 14

Summary: Daryl confronts Shane in a furious outburst after discovering he broke the one promise that mattered most—keeping you safe. In a painful flashback, Daryl shuts down your attempts to reconnect, forced to push you away after Shane’s threats. As you struggle to understand his sudden distance, Daryl is torn between protecting you and the guilt of breaking your heart.

warnings: slight mention of blood/gore.

Daryl

X flashback x

The phone vibrated in Daryl’s pocket again, the third time in the past few minutes, but what felt like the millionth time in the past week. He clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He knew who it was. You'd been calling him for days now, and every time, he found a reason not to pick up. But now, the guilt gnawed at him so hard that his fingers twitched toward the phone before he could stop himself. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled the phone out and stared at the screen. Your name flashed at him like a challenge. He didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t. Not after everything Shane had said. Had done. But the thought of you waiting for his call, of you still holding on, made his chest feel tight. Against his better judgment, he pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Daryl?” your voice, soft but filled with worry, hit him like a punch. He winced, his heart kicking up in his chest. He should have let it ring. Should have ignored it again. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff, barely pushing out the word. He could already hear the relief in your voice, and it only made him feel worse. 

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you for days. Did something happen?”

He swallowed hard, forcing down the guilt. He didn’t want to lie to you. He didn’t want to hurt you. But Shane’s words echoed in his head: Stay away from her. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. Back off. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, trying to push the remorse down further. “Nah,” he muttered, his voice flat. “Just busy.”

You didn’t let up. You never did. “Too busy for your best friend?” Your voice was sharper now, the worry turning into frustration. “Come on, Dare. Talk to me, please. Are you mad at me? What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Instead, his chest tightened even more, and he clenched the phone harder. “Nothin’. Just leave it.”

The words came out clipped and cold, harsher than he meant. But what else could he do? You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Shane had made sure of that.

“Daryl, please,” your voice cracked, and he could hear the hurt in it. It twisted something deep inside him. He should hang up. End it now. Before he made it worse.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly, his throat tightening. He could feel his heart pounding harder, and all he wanted was to tell you the truth. To explain everything. But that would only drag you deeper into this mess. He couldn’t risk it. You were at school--with a future. You should finally take the chance to leave this shit hole, not let him keep you here. 

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and for a second, he thought you might say something else. But then your voice came through, small and broken. “Okay.”

Daryl felt like his chest could cave in as he pressed “end”, and stared at the phone in his hand, feeling like he’d just thrown something important away. Something he couldn’t get back.

He dropped the phone onto the table, running a hand through his hair, his chest still tight. He should’ve told you the truth. But what good would that have done? Shane had made it crystal clear the last time he’d seen him. Back off, or shit will go down. He knew Officer Shane Walsh could pull some shit to get Merle or him into trouble without needing a lick of proof. It wasn’t fair, but nothing in his life ever was.

Daryl leaned back against the wall, the silence settling in around him. He couldn’t shake the sound of your voice—hurt, confused, because of him. And he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that no matter what he did, he’d already lost you.

x flash forward x

The gravel crunches from the sound of tires slowly approaching, and Daryl whips his head up to see bright headlights shining through the glass.

“Daryl–” Rick starts, but he’s already out the room, nearly ripping the front door off its hinges as he flies out onto the porch. 

Shane Walsh is closing the truck door as Daryl approaches. He’s covered in blood and visibly exhausted. Limping, he walks to the house. But when he sees Daryl, he stops in his tracks.

Shane looks wrecked—clothes covered in dried blood, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. His eyes are blown wide in what could be shock, desperation. His face is a mess of exhaustion and pain, but Daryl doesn’t care. The only thing pounding in Daryl's ears is the sound of his own heartbeat, matching the heavy thud of his boots on the dirt. Every step Shane takes toward him fuels the storm brewing inside Daryl’s chest.

By the time Shane reaches him, Daryl’s entire body is a live wire of rage, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Without warning, Daryl surges forward and slams Shane against the truck with a force that sends the bags tumbling from Shane’s shoulders. The gun hits the ground with a loud clatter, but Daryl barely registers it.

“You were supposed to protect her,” Daryl roars, every word meant to be a physical blow as much as his hands on Shane. He grabs him by the front of his shirt, pushing him against the truck, “the only reason I ever—you made one promise, Shane! One!”

Shane’s wide, disassociating eyes meet Daryl’s, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even try to shove Daryl back. He lets himself be slammed against the truck, the impact rattling through his body. “Daryl—” he tries to say, but the words barely leave his lips.

“What the hell happened out there? How the fuck did you let her get shot, you piece of shit?” Daryl shouts at Shane, but suddenly there’s two hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he hears Rick’s voice behind him, pulling his body back.

Daryl forces out of Rick’s grip, but doesn't lunge again, fists balled tightly. His entire body shakes as he narrows his eyes at the man in front of him. His mind is racing, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a vice. He wanted answers, but none of them could change the fact that she was hurt. And it was Shane who let it happen.

“Give the supplies to the old man. At least he can actually do somethin'," Daryl growls before turning away, stomping his way back up the stairs into the dimly lit house. 

He had gotten kicked out of the room when they began their assault on your body–he couldn’t stand to watch anyway. Of all the blood he’d seen in his life from skinning his own kills, taking down walkers–hell, seeing other people get killed and bitten, or eaten alive–he couldn’t stand to see you cut open like that. Daryl chews the skin around his thumbnail as he paces in the middle of the night. The porch light casts everything past the trees into blackness. He sometimes looks toward them, thinking of the little girl out there all alone, but then his thoughts rush back to you, hoping that you’ll be alright. 

Rick and Lori are clutching one another on the side of the house, but Daryl hardly notices them as the rhythm of his footsteps seems to soothe him. Shane leans on the hood of the truck, his eyes cast down on the ground while they wait. Jesus, if he had to look at him any longer he might actually lose his shit. He hates looking at the man that tore Y/N from him all those years ago. Even though you went to college, he thought about the life you would’ve had with him if Shane Walsh hadn’t barged in like a disease, infiltrating your thoughts, beliefs…your heart. But when you had told him at the church that he was right about Shane and Lori, something that he had thought had burned out long ago warmed again. Like blowing softly on embers, a fire beginning to grow when you thought it almost went out. And then this absolute nightmare of her being shot in the woods made those embers blaze higher, licking at his insides, making his heart shoot into his throat when he thought of her in that bed. 

He briefly wonders about the others along the highway. He had seen Glenn and T-Dog finally arrive at the house a few hours after him. Shane barely looked at them as they strode into the house. They hadn’t been allowed into the room where the old man worked on Y/N’s wounds, but the daughter had helped T-Dog with his arm. Glenn sits on the front porch now too, rocking in the nearest chair with his head in his hands. 

Suddenly, the screen door opens quietly, and they all jump up to look at the man in the doorway. Hershel is wiping his hands with a clean cloth as he turns to all of them with a small smile, “both of them have seemed to stabilize,”

Daryl feels a small twinge of guilt that he momentarily at the realization he forgot Carl was in there, bandaged and wounded too. His injury wasn’t as fatal, but the poor kid still needed medical care. He watches Rick run over, smiling with tears in his eyes as he pulls the doctor into a tight hug. Hershel says something about Otis, something about having to tell Patricia about him. Daryl’s blank thoughts hardly even register the words as he stares at the man.

It feels like they’re all struck for words–dumbly staring at him. Daryl’s hands twitch as he itches to be back by your side. Hershel meets his eye, and nods his head over his shoulder, “go on, now, she might wake up soon,”

[sorinethemastermind]

Big Feelings Time

In which Soren grapples with what happened the night of the full moon, and makes peace with Runaan on behalf of his king.

 No one was really sure what to do about the elf. Runaan, Soren corrected himself. He had a name.

 The only person he seemed to know how to speak to was Rayla. Probably cause, you know, he was her Dad. And he was here. Soren tried not to think about the mess of emotions that simple fact awoke in him. But it wasn’t that simple, because to Runaan it had only been a few days since he’d killed the king. And now that king’s son was dating his daughter. (Soren was happy Rayla and Callum had finally worked that out, it had been getting awkward). 

 He couldn't really blame the elf for not knowing what to do or where to go. If he stuck by Rayla’s side then Callum was always there, frazzled and distracted and riddled with guilt about the pearl and the castle and everything. It was a lot even without adding the fact that his potential future father-in-law had killed his step-dad. It gave Soren a headache just thinking about it.

 And if he went into the camp at all he was sure to run into Ezran, who seemed to be everywhere at once these days; helping Opeli with the wounded, sending out letters with the Crow whatever-he-was-now. He’d even somehow found the time to visit every family who had fled the fires. Soren thought that the worst part was how Ezran kept trying to smile at the elf even though it looked like the action caused him physical pain. He made a mental note to take him aside later for some Big Feelings Time, as the brothers liked to call it. 

 And then there was, well, him. He had almost killed Runaan. He would have too, if Claudia hadn't stopped him. And then what had happened? His father had trapped his soul in a coin for several years. And that was probably the least of the reasons the elf had to hate him. He could still remember that night; the way the torches had all gone out at once, the clang of metal against metal, the wet sound it made when it didn’t hit metal…

 “Soren?” 

 He jumped. Ezran was there, looking up at him. Soren straightened, making sure to smile. “Yeah?”

 “Were you… sleeping standing up?”

 “No. I was just, uh, thinking. Why?”

 “Because your eyes were closed.” Ezran said, eyebrow arching a little bit. He looked so much like his father when he did that. 

 “It helps me… think.” Soren explained. In all honesty he hadn’t realized they’d drifted closed. It had felt nice, though. 

 “You should get some rest.”

 “I did last night. Just like you ordered.”

 “So this morning you had time to travel all the way to the Valley of Graves, discover that Aaravos had escaped, and come back. All before breakfast?”

 “...Yes?” Soren tried. Ezran didn’t seem impressed, but he didn’t press it. 

 “Have you seen Callum?” he asked instead.

 “I’m pretty sure I saw him and Rayla head over that way.” Soren pointed towards a small clearing in the trees, just across from where they had set up camp. Good. The brothers had barely had any time to talk after Callum got back, what with everything else going on. They needed this.

 “Great. I’m going to go talk to him.” Ezran said, the set of his mouth determined. “Um. Do you think I should say that we need to let go of the past to build a brighter future or that the future is about breaking the cycles of hatred which have kept us chained for so long?”

 Soren sighed. The kid had forgotten how to talk to his own brother. Then he realized what this talk must be about. “Maybe… neither? Callum took the news about the pearl pretty hard, maybe you should wait to talk about… the elf situation.”

 “He’s not the elf, Soren. And he’s not a situation. He’s Rayla’s father.”

 “I know, I know. That’s not what I meant. I just… you’ve got to have some feelings about this whole thing.”

 Ezran did that thing again where he smiled too wide. But despite his obvious efforts, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why would I have feelings about it? He’s just Rayla’s Dad. I’m glad he’s here!”

 “Yeah, but see, your voice sorta does this thing when you say that that makes me feel like you do have feelings and just…” Soren sighed. “Look, I know I’m not Callum. Obviously. But I’m still here for you, to protect you but also… whatever you need. Like words and stuff.”

 Ezran’s smile wavered and he took a deep breath. “How can I ask everyone to move on from the past when I can’t?” he said quietly, eyes downcast.

 Soren knelt before him, placing his hands on his shoulders the way he used to when he was just a little kid. Before he was a king and everything got all… complicated. “No one is expecting you to move on.”

 “I’m not supposed to hate him, Soren. I really don’t want to. I tried so hard not to. But… but even though it’s been so long I still miss him.”

 “I know.” Soren wrapped his arms around Ezran and pulled him in close, sheltering him in his arms for a moment so that the kid could just be, well, that. A kid. A kid who misses his Dad, and nothing more. 

 The moment didn’t last long, and when Ezran pulled away his eyes were wet, but there was a real determination in them that had been missing before. 

 “I’m going to get everything ready for the trek to the Banther Lodge.” he said, voice taught. “I can talk to him when we get there.”

 “I’ll talk to Runaan.” Soren decided aloud.

 “But, Soren…” Ezran trailed off, biting his lip. “Won't he… remember you from that night?”

 Soren blew a strand of blond hair out of his face. “Yeah. But I can handle it. Look, you go help your people, okay? That’s your job. My job is helping you.” 

 “Thank you.” his king said, standing up a little straighter.

 “You got it.” Soren grinned at him and, after a moment, Ezran walked back the way he’d come.

 Soren’s grin faded along with his fake nonchalance. Ezran might be a quick study, but Soren had years on him. The art of the facade was just that, an art. And you had to practice art. Sort of like poetry, though that somehow needed even more practice.

 It didn’t take long to spot Runaan. He was in the same place he had been since they arrived; hovering just slightly out of view in the trees near the edge of the encampment. Soren rolled his shoulders and pushed his hair out of his face with the back of a gauntleted hand. He had this. 

 “Hey!” he called, waving to the elf in a voice that sounded way too cheery even to his own ears. He tried to modulate it in the middle of the greeting, but all that accomplished was giving him the voice of a prepubescent teen. He tried again as he got closer. “Hey, it’s Runaan, right?”

 The elf looked at him for a long moment. “Yes.”

 “I’m Soren.” instinctively he started to stick out his hand, then decided maybe that wasn’t the best thing for this scenario, and used it to lean against a tree instead. Totally casual.

 “Did someone send you?”

 “What? Me? Noooooo.” Soren laughed. “I mean, I guess I sent myself but… yeah, no."

 “I see.” the elf blinked, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows as he studied Soren. 

 Casual conversation. Casual conversation. Casual conversation. Soren thought desperately, grasping for something to say that would lead them in the right direction. Or any direction other than the one he knew they were about to go.

 “So, what do you think of Katol-”

  “Here to finish me off, then?”

 They both spoke at the same time, seemingly caught off guard by what the other had said.

 Soren practically tripped over his own words to get them out first.  “Definitely not!  I know we didn’t exactly meet on the best of terms but-”

 “You killed one of my companions and were about to chop off my head.”

 “Yes, but-” Soren let out an exasperated huff, tossing his hands into the air. “You killed the king!”

 For a moment neither of them was really sure what to say to that.

 “I… did.” Runaan admitted eventually.

 Soren still remembered how the arrow had looked sticking from the king’s chest. The look of surprise on his face, the way it had seemed to flick from that and through a million other emotions in the time it took him to stagger and slump to the ground. The cold expression that this very elf had worn as he lowered his bow. The blood and the bodies and the pointlessness of it all and-

 “What was his name?” Soren blurted, surprising even himself. But he continued. Maybe knowing would make it worse, but he had to. “The- the one with the twin blades?”

 A shadow passed over Runaan’s face and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Skor.”

 Skor. Soren shivered, the cool darkness of that night creeping through him again like a chill breeze.

 “You never forget your first.” Runaan said softly, eyes distant. “We believe that you should honor the fallen, even your enemies. For they have died so that you may live.”

 “I try to.” Soren said, adding Skor to the list of people he owed his life to. If not in the same way. “Look, I know that this can’t be easy for you, working with humans and all. After… everything. But we’re not here because it’s easy. We’re here because it’s the right thing to do. And what you did that night wasn’t right, and what I did wasn’t either. Because there was no right thing that we could have done. But there is now.”

 “A lot has changed.”

 “Tell me about it.” Soren said with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately Runaan didn’t seem to understand the concept of lightening or of moods.

 “And yet we still face the same monsters as before.”

 “Uh-”

 “Dark mages have always been a scourge on these lands. And now they have released him. It was only a matter of time. At least now, with our combined strength, we may stand a chance of getting rid of them for good.”

 Soren bristled instinctively at the way he said dark mages even though he knew the elf was right. Better to get it all out in the open now, he decided. “Yeah, about that. The mage who released him, we discussed it and we’re actually not doing any getting rid of.”

 “They released the dark star! They are-”

 “She’s my sister.”

 Runaan stopped mid sentence, looking at him again. His eyes widened with realization. “The girl. The one from that night. She was...”

 “She’s my sister. And… and I know her. I can get through to her. I have to. So that’s the plan. That’s what we’re going to do.” 

 “She is a dark mage. They have no respect for the living-”

 “I’m standing here because of dark magic.” Soren said, voice rising. “Your daughter is here because of dark magic. Katolis-” he swept his hands back towards the encampment and the people there. “-is here because of dark magic. It isn’t right, and it’s not fair. But it’s also true.”

 “My daughter… is here… because of dark magic?”

 Soren sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. “A lot of us are.”

 “Not the mage from the castle?” Runaan breathed, eyes going wide.

 “No. Not him. That was my father. He… he and Rayla didn’t get along.”

 “Your… father.”

 “Yeah.”

 “And yet you are here, with them. With my Rayla.”

 “It took me a while to realize who he really was.” Soren said, voice quiet. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

 “I have made many mistakes as a father.” Runaan said, looking past him and towards the encampment. “That night… was one of them. And yet Rayla forgave me, even when I could not forgive myself.”

 “That’s who she is. She gives people second chances, even when they don’t know if they deserve them. Look,” Soren sighed. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll be easy, cause it won’t. But Rayla deserves to have her Dad back, and none of us will hold that against her. Or you.”

 “A lot has changed.” 

 “Everything. Everything has changed. Because of her. Because of what she and Ezran and Callum did. So live up to it.”

 “I will try.” 

 “Good.” Soren said, and the silence that followed was more comfortable this time. The truth of that night would always linger over them all, but maybe there was a light in the darkness as well. Rayla had her Dad back. 

 At least one of them should.

[smilingformoney]

Desirium

Severus is testing a new potion, with unexpected side-effects. (aka: sex potion trope but make it Snephy)

Snape x OC | smut

Warnings/content: masturbation, blowjob, slight dubcon if you squint, desk sex, dom!Snape (later service dom), orgasm denial, overstimulation, possessive Snape, cunnilingus, use of safe word

Read on Ao3 or below:

Now that the twins had started nursery, Persephone and Severus had a lot more time to themselves. Generally, this involved catching up on the sleep they’d lost since they were born, although for Severus it also meant throwing himself into his work without interruptions from feral children - something he had craved ever since he’d started working at Hogwarts over twenty years ago.

It wasn’t surprising to Persephone, then, that some mornings she took the girls to nursery on her own, as Severus was deep in concentration over his desk, or his cauldron, and she didn’t want to disturb him. One morning in particular, she returned home from dropping the girls off when she heard Severus’ voice in his study. He never spoke to himself - he could go without speaking as long as he was allowed to be cooped up in his cave. He and April were similar in that way, their non-verbal communication far beyond anything Persephone, Ariadne or Abbie had been able to achieve.

At first Persephone thought someone might be in there with him, but as she listened, she realised he wasn’t talking, but moaning. He almost sounded like he did in bed, on the now only too rare night that they weren’t too busy, or too tired to have sex.

She opened the door cautiously, knowing he didn’t like to be disturbed, and was surprised to discover exactly why he sounded like he did in bed - he was sat back in his chair, his eyes scrunched tight as he furiously pumped his fist around his cock.

“Sephy,” he mumbled to the air.

He hadn’t realised yet that she was there. Although the sight was arousing, Persephone was a little hurt - could he not have waited for her to get home? Did he now prefer his own touch over hers, leaving her role only to that of fantasy?

He needed a reminder, she decided. On her tip-toes so as to not make a sound, she crossed the room to him. Her sneaking skills must have been rusty, though, because he seemed to sense her presence when she approached and his eyes opened. Rather than being shocked or embarrassed that she’d caught him in a compromising position, his eyes only grew more lustful when he saw her. His right hand showed no signs of slowing; with his spare hand, he reached up and grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him.

“Sev…” Persephone gasped; he only growled in response as she fell on his lap, and he pushed down on her shoulder to force her to her knees. He squeezed her chin to open her mouth, and suddenly his cock was down her throat.

She choked slightly, his cock having been shoved so suddenly and so forcefully into her dry mouth. If Severus noticed, he didn’t care, as he grabbed her by the hair and held her head still as he rutted furiously into her mouth. She knelt there, coat and shoes still on from having been outside, as her husband face-fucked her until he came down her throat. Only then did he finally release her hair from his hand, and Persephone was finally able to breathe when she was able to extract herself from his crotch.

A thousand questions were swimming in her head, but the one that came out was, “How the fuck are you still hard?”

Sure enough, despite having cum down her throat only moments ago, Severus’ cock was still standing to attention.

He groaned, knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms of his chair in frustration, seemingly trying to resist going right back down her throat. “Still… need to cum…” he managed to say, although it seemed to be a struggle for him to even speak.

Persephone got to her feet and looked down at him. He looked incredibly hot, his whole body quivering with lust as he physically restrained himself from moving. His eyes were closed, as if looking at her would be too much.

“I tested a new potion,” he said through gritted teeth. “The side effects are… unexpected.”

Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. “You tested a new potion on yourself, and the side effects make you uncontrollably horny?”

“Yes.”

Severus opened his eyes, and as soon as he laid eyes on her body, his hands were on her hips, pulling her down to straddle his lap.

“Need you,” he growled, his hands clawing uselessly at her clothing. “Naked. Now.”

“Say please,” Persephone teased.

Severus groaned in frustration. “Get your clothes off, please, or else I might just die if I don’t fuck you.”

“Yes, sir.”

She began unbuttoning her coat, but even that was too slow for him. Severus pulled the coat apart with his own hands, sending buttons flying, but he didn’t seem to care. He moaned with relief to see she was wearing a low-cut t-shirt, and he buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling them like they were a pillow after a long day.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moaned. “Mhm… Sephy…”

He pushed the fabric of her t-shirt and bra to the side to allow a breast to escape, and Persephone hissed slightly in pain as he took her nipple in his mouth and pinched it between his teeth.

She could feel his erection pressed between their bodies, and if she weren’t wearing trousers, she needed only to lower herself a few inches to fill herself up with him.

Severus seemed to be similarly frustrated, because he removed her breast from his mouth with a pop , picked his wand up from the desk, and with two quick waves their clothes had vanished. As his wand clattered to the floor, Severus pushed Persephone backwards to lay her on the desk. He ignored the parchment being crushed beneath her back, and paid no mind to the vial of liquid that crashed to the floor. She had no chance to ask what they’d just broken when she felt her husband’s cock filling her up, crawling up her walls as he fit so perfectly inside her. He wasted no time thrusting furiously into her, his depraved grunts filling the room as he fucked her so hard, so fast, that the desk began to creak beneath them.

At least he was enjoying himself; he’d spent no time getting her ready as he usually did, and so the feeling of his cock rubbing against her dry walls was painful and uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever had been in the smashed vial wafted into her face, and she breathed in something that smelt a little like Amortentia, but mixed with the familiar smell of sweat and cum.

The gaseous potion filled her lungs, and her heart immediately began to race. The painful fucking suddenly became very pleasurable indeed as her cunt moistened itself around Severus’ cock, and all Persephone wanted was to cum while he was buried deep inside her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that she must have breathed in whatever substance Severus had drank to make himself uncontrollably horny, but that voice was small compared to the overwhelming need for her husband’s body.

She moved her hand towards her clit, desperate for extra stimulation, but Severus slapped her hand away.

“No cumming yet,” he growled. “Not until I say so.”

“Please,” Persephone begged. Maybe if she came, the torturous need coursing through her veins would be sated. She had never been so horny in her life, and she now understood what Severus said earlier; she, too, felt like she might die if their bodies ever disconnected. He was part of her, and she was part of him; why should they ever need to separate?

Severus grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head as he leant closer to her, their bodies pressed together as he grunted furiously into her ear, his face buried in her neck. Persephone let out a small yelp as he sunk his teeth into her flesh, latching on like a hungry babe to a breast, and a wet, cold sensation told her he had drawn blood. Somewhere in her mind she registered the pain, but the sensation of his mouth on her neck, his hands on her wrists, his chest on hers, his cock still pounding furiously in and out of her cunt - it was far more pleasurable than the small pinch of broken skin.

She so desperately needed to cum, to clamp her walls around his cock and milk him for all he had, but he’d given her an order and she was terrified, if she disobeyed, he’d never let her cum at all. So she tried to think of something else, anything else, to keep her peak at bay. Over Severus’ shoulder, she looked at the jars of slimy ingredients lining his shelves, all gross and gooey, wide-eyed dead creatures staring at her from their glass prisons, all lined up neatly and meticulously organised. She could just imagine Severus perusing the shelves, his elegant fingers gently skimming across each jar as he looked for the right ingredient… the same fingers that could find her sweet spot in seconds, the fingers that were now creeping down her arm to wrap around her throat, and she was snapped back to reality when he squeezed just above her clavicle. It was the smallest of squeezes, testing her response, and when she gasped in pleasure, Severus smirked as he lifted his head to look at her, watching her face contorting in blissful pleasure-pain as his grip on her tightened.

“I’m going to cum in your beautiful cunt,” he growled. “And you’re going to take every - last - drop.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Persephone moaned. “Give me your cum, please, I need you to fill me up, please, please, please…”

“Yes, take it, take my cum… my good girl, mine, mine… MINE!” Severus roared as he came, his cries of ecstasy echoing through the room, and if they’d had any neighbours, there would be no doubt they’d be heard. His hips stilled deep inside her, plugging her up as his cum shot inside her, and his grip on her throat tightened so much she almost couldn’t breathe.

Persephone inhaled deeply when his grip relaxed and Severus collapsed, spent, on her sweaty body, as if she’d taken not just his cum but all of his energy in one blissful moment.

Blissful for him, perhaps - her cunt was still on fire, desperate for the wave of bliss only he could so expertly pull from her. She grinded her hips against his, desperate for any kind of stimulation; his cock was softening, but she needed him desperately, if not his cock then his fingers, his tongue, anything…

“Severus…” Persephone moaned, and she realised she was crying. “Please, Severus, please…”

Severus was still trying to catch his breath, but his panting stopped when he heard her pleas. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock, as if he was only just realising he’d completely forgotten her needs.

He pulled out of her and dropped to his knees in an instant, ignoring the cum dripping out of her as he buried his face between her legs. Persephone cried out with relief when his tongue ran over her clit, and she knew she wouldn’t last long. Severus slipped two of those beautiful fingers inside her wrecked pussy, elegantly caressing her inner sweet spot as his sharp tongue traced circles around her clit.

Thank fuck he wasn’t teasing. He usually ate her out so slowly and carefully at first, building up her pleasure before letting her cum. But now he wasted no time, finger-fucking her furiously as he sucked on her clit for dear life. Persephone clawed uselessly at the desk beneath her, and when she couldn’t find anything to hold onto, she sunk her fingers into her husband’s silky hair, nails digging into his scalp as with one, two, three perfect strokes of his fingers, she exploded with ecstasy, her walls clamping around his fingers as he kept stimulating her through her orgasm, only slowing to a stop when the last aftershock of her orgasm had left her body and she, too, felt her energy drain away instantly.

Persephone released her grip on him and he sat back into his chair, his hair a mess, his cheeks flushed red and his chin glistening with her sticky juices. Severus closed his eyes as he caught his breath, and only opened them when his wife crawled onto his lap, nuzzling his neck as she snuggled up to him.

His rock-hard chair might be suitable for him to work from, but it certainly wasn’t made for cuddling. He apparated them up to their bedroom, their naked bodies appearing on the edge of the bed, and together they slid under the blanket, holding each other as close as they could.

For a few moments they lay there, soaking in the blissful aftereffects of what had just happened, until Persephone spoke.

“What the fuck was that?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Not the intended effect of the potion,” Severus replied.

Persephone chuckled. “Clearly. What was it supposed to do?”

“It was only supposed to give me an erection. I may have to dial back some of the ingredients.”

“Why do you need a potion to give you an erection?” Persephone asked curiously, looking up at him as she rested her head on his chest.

“I don’t - not yet. But it’s a common issue among men my age - I’m hoping to create a potion to market. I may need it myself one day, but I assure you, the only assistance I need to get hard is thinking of you.”

Severus wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close and taking in her scent. “I’m sorry, I was very selfish just now. All I could think of was my own pleasure.”

“Thank Merlin the orgasm stopped the potion’s effects. I don’t think either of us would have the energy to go for much longer than we did.”

Severus hummed thoughtfully. “It seems it was only that last orgasm that worked. None of the previous ones did - I still felt desperately horny.”

“Previous ones? How many times did you cum in your own hand before I came home, Sev?”

He blushed, his eyes darting to the side to avoid hers. “Three times,” he admitted. “Each time, I maintained the erection and my desire throughout… it was only cumming inside you that worked.”

“Maybe it doesn’t just make you horny… when I breathed it in, I felt a need to cum, but mostly it was just a need for you. Perhaps it was less a need for pleasure, and more a need for connection, the intimacy of sex.”

“Perhaps. My mind was swimming with thoughts of you, but it wasn’t until I had you in front of me that I really felt sated. I suppose that’s logical - I based the recipe on that of Amortentia.”

“I thought that was what I smelt. It’s hard to tell when Amortentia smells like you, and I’ve already got you there. I can’t tell if I’m smelling you or the potion.”

“Your Amortentia smells like me?”

Persephone laughed. She propped her head up on her hand and smiled at him incredulously. “Of course it does, Sev. What else would it smell like?”

“Mine smells of you too,” he admitted. “When we were apart, I always hated teaching Amortentia, because the whole classroom just smelled like you. Your lavender shampoo, the firewhisky you always kept at your home… and a smell I couldn’t identify for years. It wasn’t until we had the girls that I realised it was the smell of baby powder. I must have smelt it that day I came to see you when Abbie was a baby.”

“I smell firewhisky too,” Persephone said with a laugh. “We must be a couple of drunks.”

Severus chuckled and brushed a stray hair from her face. “What else do you smell?” he asked.

“Cinnamon, of course. And a kind of damp wood smell - it’s what your old house smelt like after the rain.”

Severus smiled. Even after all this time, he still seemed to find it hard to believe she loved him as much as she did.

“I should probably reduce those elements,” he said thoughtfully. “My aim is arousal, not carnal lust.”

“And you should probably wait until I’m home to test it,” Persephone said, firmly but with a hint of a tease. “I can be your… control subject.”

“Mmm, I do like having you under my control,” Severus teased as his hand snaked down her body to squeeze at her arse. “And you’re certainly my favourite subject.”

Persephone laughed, then kissed his soft lips lovingly before he turned the kiss hungry, hands digging into her waist as he held her flush against him. He flipped her onto her back and moved his kisses to her neck, taking care across the bruise that was forming across her neck, before moving further down her body and taking her nipple into his mouth. Severus hummed with satisfaction, never releasing his latch onto her breast even as his hand travelled lower down her body.

“Is the potion still working?” Persephone asked, trying to contain a moan as her husband’s skilled fingers began teasing at her folds.

“No,” Severus replied as he released her nipple from his mouth and began kissing every inch of her breasts. “This is all you. All for you. Five orgasms for me this morning and only one for you?” He tutted with disapproval. “That won’t do. I’ll make sure you have another six, at least.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be, Sev,” Persephone reminded him. “I don’t know if - ah!” She gasped as his finger slipped inside her. “...if I can do that anymore.”

“Oh, you will,” Severus promised. He looked up at her, dark eyes alight with a fierce determination. “I’ll keep you in this bed all day if I have to. Oh, the things I’ll do to you, Sephy… I’ll have you cumming until you’re begging for mercy.” He pressed his thumb against her clit, and chuckled darkly when she twitched.

“So eager for me already. This is going to be so easy…”

She came within a minute, and just as he promised, by the time lunchtime came, she’d cum not just six, but seven more times before she was indeed begging him for mercy, insisting she had no orgasms left in her.

“One more,” Severus promised. Persephone had her arms tied above her head, the other end of the soft yet secure ribbons meeting the ceiling above the bed. The ribbons were just long enough to suspend her above the mattress, her bent knees not quite meeting the surface. Her arms ached as they held up her weight, unless she were able to sit on a pillow - but Severus, of course, had no intention of giving her any sort of pillow to rest on. Instead her weight rested on his face, and as his tongue explored her cunt and his nose rubbed against her clit just right, Severus moaned with lust, enjoying every moment of his wife’s dripping wet cunt trapping him beneath her.

When she came for what he promised was the last time, her thighs clenched around his head, and Severus knew that even the slightest of friction against his cock would have him cumming too. But he ignored his aching member - he’d taken his own pleasure enough, perhaps too much, that morning. He wanted to give his wife all the pleasure she deserved, and he was sorely tempted, when her orgasm subsided, to keep going, to lap up everything she had, to leave her trembling and unable to speak. He was just picking up the pace again to do exactly that when she spoke, and his movements froze.

“Gillyweed!”

On hearing her safe word, Severus gently withdrew his tongue from inside her and removed her hips from his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly, grabbing his wand from nearby to release her bonds, allowing her to finally drop onto the bed. He caught her as she fell and laid her down gently. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, just… too much. I can’t… I can’t cum again, Sev, I might pass out,” Persephone replied, catching her breath as a tear of frustration rolled down her cheek.

Even so, Severus insisted on checking her over, and although she was red and sweaty from exertion, and some handprints and fingernail marks adorned her body, there were no new marks past the bruise on her neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re exhausted,” he said soothingly, gently caressing her face. “I think you need a bath, hm? We’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll have some late lunch.”

Persephone smiled and nodded, and soon enough they sunk into the hot, soapy bath together. She knew he was really going all out when he filled the bath with his favourite soap, a fancy concoction Lucius had gifted him last Christmas. A sigh of relief escaped her lungs when she felt the hot water on her sore skin and a relaxant in the soap left her melting into her husband’s arms.

“Better?” Severus mumbled in her ear as he held her carefully, as if worried he may break her.

“Mhm,” Persephone mumbled in response, her eyes already closed as she relaxed into his embrace.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, my love? Anything at all. I am yours to command.”

“There is one thing you could do,” Persephone replied, and her cheeky tone made him suspicious, but he was determined to stick to his promise.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Pick the girls up from nursery today.”

Severus chuckled warmly.

“Of course I will, darling. Of course I will.”

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hi! could a request a scenario with sebek where his s/o is really short and quiet and so he doesn’t notice them behind him and accidentally elbows them in the head or face and ends up injuring them? and how he feels and takes care of them after it happens

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek was a strong advocate for loudly announcing your presence before entering a room.

He had come up with this rule only because you’d stood around waiting to draw his attention for almost too long, politely

allowing him to finish a conversation before speaking up. He was surprised then, eyes wide as he asked just how long you had been standing there waiting to speak with him. He seemed more annoyed than even you were, scolding you on standing tall (hard to do when you’re short) and puffing out your chest with some authority so you drew attention to yourself. You had nodded and promised to try, pushing his advice to the back of your mind as you got on with the task you had been given.

But clearly, you should’ve taken him a little more seriously.

You can see the shock in Sebek’s face as you let out a pained cry, hand protectively cradling your potentially broken nose. His eyes start out wide, like an enemy observing its prey and getting ready to chomp down on their throat, but they soften when he realized it was just you. There’s a brief moment where he’s getting ready to address you before his brain noticed the slight amount of blood dripping from between your fingers to the floor.

“W-What happened?!” He asked, wincing as you did the same and took a step back out of reflex. He’d already elbowed you in the face once, you and your bones weren’t prepared for round two. “Come here!”

Nurse Sebek is on the case as he sat you down on a nearby chair, whipping his head around for any cloth in the area he could use. He demanded you keep pinching your nose until he was back, rushing around the dorm like a madman as he gathered all the material he needed; he requested Silver get some ice from the cafeteria for him as he didn’t want to leave your side for that long, his sleepy companion nodding without question. Sebek was in such a frantic state, with a splash of blood on his hands, so Silver could only assume something had happened to either you or Malleus (which he would know about if it was the young master) and that meant achieving his task before discovering what had happened.

The pain is subsiding ever so slightly and the bleeding has finally slowed, with Sebek having you keep your hands at your side as he carefully dabbed at your face with a wet towel. He was concentrating more than he did on his exams, a gentle touch he didn’t normally apply being used as he couldn’t bear to worsen your wounds that he caused. You could see there was guilt written everywhere across his face, the brief tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes after he realized he had been the one to hurt you coming to mind again, almost making you want to cry.

“…I’m sorry.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I should’ve announced myself like you told me… I’m sorry.”

Sebek looked frustrated, clenching the towel so tight his knuckles turned whiter. He doesn’t reply at first which sets you a little on edge, he wasn’t really one to keep things to himself and the lack of communication was already setting your anxiety off.

“It was my fault. I’ll take the responsibility for it.” He’s still quieter than you’d ever heard him be but at least he’s talking now; you wanted to reach out to touch him, to hold his face and tell you that you accepted his apology but you knew he hated being coddled like that. “I-I’ll clean your uniform as well! And the floor--"

"Thank you, Sebek. I appreciate your help!" You gave a small nod, slipping in a reassuring smile as well before Sebek went back to dabbing at the still red areas where dried blood was. "And you are forgiven. Please don't beat yourself up over this."

Sebek just had to train more. To sharpen his senses so he could detect you, to know when you had entered the room without you having to be the one to speak up. He should've been training himself for such a situation this entire time, considering he knew how stealthily you could maneuver, and yet he had neglected to act despite telling you to change your own behavior.

He would become a better man, a better body guard, by honing this trait.

And he would hopefully never have to see you wounded again.

[quarterqueens]

what if we fucked on the olympic anti-sex beds haha: a lawlight fic

this is no longer even slightly timely BUT do you guys want to read a fic about lawlight fucking on those olympic anti-sex beds anyway. yes the anti-sex qualities of those beds were disproven but it's sexier if they weren't. au where cardboard can't be strong.

The room is dark, the light that falls through the closed curtains moonlight soft as L lays Light down on the bed. He has locked the door and it’s only the two of them — L who belongs in this room and Light who doesn’t, Light who is crossing into enemy territory.

L is careful with him. He presses one hand against his shoulder, to keep him still, firm but gentle, more gentle than Light has ever been touched before, then crawls on top of him and leans down and kisses him chaste. 

He doesn’t move like a man who is careful during sex; there is something about the deliberateness of his movements that speaks to a familiarity with roughness. It’s the bed, Light is pretty sure, which is cardboard and flimsy, not designed for two. 

He doesn’t mind. This is not usually what he likes, either, but now he feels something close to reverence; in other circumstances he might be embarrassed by this but now he is not. Now this care is practical, useful, the only sensible route to take. 

L lowers his groin to Light’s and Light lets out a long groan, a noise that’s barely voluntary. L leans down again and kisses him into silence. “Careful,” he says, voice low, not quite a whisper. “We mustn’t be heard.”

Light shuts his eyes. He can smell L around him, like cederwood and sage and a body that has been in motion; a clean scent, not unpleasant. L’s body is so hot and he can feel it descending towards him before L presses his lips to his throat and kisses a line down it, along his artery, into the dip of his throat. 

Light whines. He twists beneath L’s hips and L grinds against him, slow. 

He moves like he already knows Light’s body. And in a way he has — he has seen Light, surely, dancing across the piste, his sword on hand; he must have thought of how best to defeat him. Light has thought about the same. And so it’s only natural that each touch sends heat swirling through Light, sends electric sparks all through him, that it all seems to curl towards the core of himself.

Light has had lovers before, and many of them knew just what to, but this feels different; it feels like the cumulation of a conversation they’ve already had. 

L trails a hand towards Light buckle, a question more than a demand, and Light catches it. He opens his eyes to find L watching him, cautious, waiting. Some men look impatient when stopped in this way but only looks like he’s waiting to be told how to proceed. 

“Just this,” Light says. “Just — this is good.” 

“Alright,” L says, his voice quiet. He sounds like he wants to know more — not in the wheedling way some people get, but because he seems interested in Light. But now isn’t the time and he must know this because instead he leans down again and kisses Light’s collarbone and Light lifts his hips to meet L’s, clothed but warm nonetheless, the pressure aching but wonderful. 

It has been a long time since he had sex that did not feel desperate, sex that felt languid, like it could easily be had again and more; their time here is limited and he knows this but he is also sure, without asking, that they can find their way together again, if needs be. This was not a chance meeting; it was meant, their stars tangled together. He’s sure of it because he’s never before met someone like L — L isn’t so special, or at least he isn’t here, but he feels suited to Light, his second half; meeting him had felt like finally slipping a sword into its sheath, like discovering the place where all his sharp edges belonged, where they could not hurt, where they were wanted. 

And so there’s no need to rush. He does not want to rush. He does not want to hurtle through this the way he always does, as if he had to race to discover an unfortunate ending; instead he lies back and allows L to kiss him warm beneath the throat, cants his hips into L’s, and allows his mind to fall quiet. 

[maya-matlin]

it's sort of ironic that lucas and brooke had more in common later in life then him and peyton they had their own separate goals dreams and wanted a family their relationship matured over time where his and peyton stayed stagnant in a superficial happy fake bubble as soon as realty and communication needed to happen there was always issues nether character could grow together and honestly I don't see them endgame in the long run lucas actions showed he was in awe and had more respect for brooke as a separate person where as peyton he saw as a fantasy not who she really was that's why he just expected her to just want to jump and marry without any depth or conversations about where their relationship is not just some we are meant to be nonsense or the pressure of what other people perceived their relationship everyone constantly went on about him wanting peyton and they are meant to be I think that's just because they have to justify why he and peyton hurt other people and themselves together they had to be different people then who they was around each other

Yeah, the way Lucas and Peyton's relationship developed did not work for me at all. So much of it revolved around LP having to be together in the end to come full circle from the pilot or the fact Lucas repeatedly saved Peyton. Their goals didn't necessarily align unless you consider that Peyton wanted Lucas to be happy, and Lucas wanted the same thing. They both put his wants and needs ahead of Peyton's. Brooke at least felt like a person who independently of Lucas wanted similar things while also going about them differently. Peyton was just.. extremely desperate for Lucas during seasons 4 and 5. Sure, she also wanted to run a record label and discover new musicians, but it honestly came across like Peyton was extremely fixated on Lucas and had it in her head that she could only achieve happiness if he married her. So because she couldn't afford to have Lucas walk away again, she literally jumped at a mediocre proposal without the awareness that she was one of three potential wives. And like, on Lucas's end, his dream didn't necessarily include Peyton. He had a desire to start a family and post Brucas 2.0, the woman in his life didn't need to be a specific person. She just had to be willing to say yes when he needed her to say yes. I truly feel like a part of Lucas settled in a big way after losing Brooke. As for the communication problems, I agree. Nothing was resolved because Lucas had a lot he wasn't willing to voice and things he absolutely refused to hold himself accountable for. Unfortunately, Peyton was not going to be the person who fought Lucas on this. The narrative during season 5 was that Peyton telling Lucas she wasn't ready for marriage at nineteen years old forced him to break up with her and then apparently hide his heart for years after that because the pain was that severe. Bullshit, but whatever. In season 5, Lucas doesn't seem like he's suffering without Peyton. He's literally fine and happy to marry Lindsey, and then again when he makes Brooke a priority and chooses to be her emotional support system with Angie. Like, Lucas holds a grudge against Peyton and keeps her at a distance, but in my opinion the writing was telling us through multiple other characters rather than showing that Lucas still loved Peyton and that a Lucas/Peyton endgame was inevitable. Lucas essentially bumbles his way to "realizing" that he should marry Peyton after all, and I'm sure the fact only she would have jumped at that dead eyed airport proposal had nothing to do with it.

Needless to say, I also think divorce is probably an inevitability with them. Once you peel back the idea of how epic the relationship is supposed to be and both of their separate issues, there isn't a lot there. At first, I'm sure they were blissfully happy because they finally got their dreams. But after that, day to day, I don't think happily ever after is going to feel as satisfying as they'd hoped. I choose to believe Peyton is eventually going to realize how much she compromised for Lucas and (sadly) I get the feeling Lucas will just end up cheating again because he can't admit out loud that he's not happy. And if he can cheat on his serious girlfriend of three years, he's going to cheat on Peyton too now that she's no longer the forbidden, easy option. I hate thinking so lowly of Lucas, but Lucas towards the end of his time on the show was a selfish guy who lost any bit of character growth he'd had during the high school years. Until he manages to work through his own shit, things won't get better.

Needless to say, I agree 100% about Brooke. It sounds ridiculous considering his messy history of breaking her heart back in high school, but during seasons 2 and 3 I truly think Lucas had good intentions and loved and wanted Brooke over Peyton. Lucas fought for Brooke and put himself completely out there in a way that he pretty much never does with Peyton past season 1. Lucas loved Brooke's independence. He loved her bravery and her soft side. There were times when he underestimated how much she needed his emotional support because unlike his relationship with Peyton, it wasn't so reliant on Lucas rescuing her. But we see by the end of season 5 that Lucas has become more in tune with Brooke's emotions and once again found a way to be her friend without any agenda much like during season 2. Whenever I try to imagine Lucas and Brooke in a similar position as Lucas and Peyton during season 5 including the missing years, I literally can't. I don't believe that Lucas would have ever held a years long grudge against Brooke for rejecting his proposal or that Brooke would have come back to him in such a way where she was handing over all of the power in their relationship. Why? Because Lucas and Brooke were so much more than an idea of how life was supposed to play out or something the people in their lives spoke of with such reverence than never quite lived up to expectations. It sounds simple because it really is. Lucas and Brooke were in love, and that was that. At its best, their love inspired some of the best in each other. They were truly equals with both similarities and differences. Plus, the passion. Even during season 5 where he's supposed to be harboring this deep love for Peyton, there are still moments with Brooke that outshine them and make zero sense if there aren't still romantic feelings on Lucas's end

Or this entire scene

I don't know that any of this reply had a point or even a coherent idea, but all I can say is that Lucas and Peyton being endgame hurt both characters. Peyton becomes weaker. Lucas is more selfish. It celebrates this idea that everything that happened was worth it because they got a happy ending, even though they to had to crush Brooke, Jake, Lindsey and Julian in the process. The relationship isn't exciting. The chemistry is severely lacking during most seasons. The entire Lucas/Peyton relationship is endlessly frustrating to watch because I like both Lucas and Peyton separately and time and time again, I revisit this show and watch them ruin their best chances of true happiness with other people all because of Lucas's savior complex and nostalgia for the pilot.

[gaybananabread]

☾༺Just a Bit Longer༻☽

~So I’ve been brainrotting over RW&RB for a solid month now. The goblins need a walk, and I cannot productivity until they get one. I love these two’s dynamic; they’re just so silly. Not my best work, but writer’s block be damned; I needed to post something this week. This is completely self-indulgent, but if it’s your thing, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Alex

Ler: Henry

Summary: Alex is overworking himself, going late into the night and working hours without breaks. Sick of his lover’s dreadful work-life management, Henry takes it upon himself to get Alex to sleep.

Warnings: mild Red, White & Royal Blue spoilers! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Life for Alex Claremont-Diaz was the best it had ever been. Henry came over almost daily from his Brownstone, and he finally felt like he had a definite idea of where his life was headed. The only downside: he was still in school.

The NYU Law course was a bit more rigorous than he’d expected, but it was definitely what he wanted. Sure, that meant long, painful hours of reviewing for extremely difficult exams, discovering that tort is a real word, and trying to figure out a system for coursework that didn’t make his brain want to explode.

His sleep schedule was already shit, so he didn’t think any of it would be a problem. If he just pulled a few all-nighters and pumped out some late-night essays, he’d be fine. What he didn’t think about, however, was how Henry would take it.

Alex was working late on another essay, running off of coffee and pure determination. He hadn’t meant to put it off, but with the three exams he’d had that week, his mind was a scattered mess.

Henry had put up with it for most of the night, but as two AM rolled around, his understanding had run dry, replaced by concern.

Knocking the “shave and a haircut” pattern on his lover’s door, Henry entered the room. He was immediately greeted with the strong smell of coffee and desperation.

There sat his boyfriend, hunched over a computer with a half-eaten ham sandwich (he couldn’t handle turkey anymore) by his side. The blonde couldn’t help the sad sigh that escaped him.

Alex looked up, his glasses nearly all the way down on his nose. It was unfairly cute, though Henry shoved that feeling down for the moment.

“Uh…hey, Hen. Not done yet; gimme, like, another half-hour.” Alex’s gaze was back on his computer in seconds.

Henry rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache brew. For once, why couldn’t Alex just use common sense?

“Alex, darling. It’s two in the morning. You need to sleep.”

Alex scoffed, not stopping for even a second. “Says you. You stay up later than I do most of the time.” While that wasn’t untrue, Henry’s problems were because of insomnia. Alex was just a stubborn asshole.

“Look, I’m going to be brutally honest here. You look terrible, you seem exhausted, and the bags under your eyes could fit the entirety of the Royal Wardrobe. Go. To. Sleep.”

Henry laid things out bluntly, crossing his arms. It was meant to leave little room for negotiation, but defying Henry’s expectations was Alex’s special talent.

“This is due at eight AM…uh, today. I’ve only got six hours to finish this thing, but I’m almost done. I promise, just a bit longer.” This would have been more comforting if Alex hadn’t already said that three times.

“Alex, please. If you sleep now, I’ll wake you up at six, and we’ll work on it together. It hurts to see you like this, dear.” He used pet names, trying to sway Alex to listen. It was a last-ditch effort; if he still refused, Henry didn’t have much of a plan left. Sure enough, he did.

“It’s fine, Henry. I’m all good, just a little spacy. I promise, the moment I’m done, I’ll eat your face. Okay, baby?” Alex flipped the other man’s strategy back on him, hoping to fully bury the concern. He was fine: end of story.

For Henry, though, the tale was just beginning. He racked his brain, searching for anything to help him get Alex to cooperate. He could only remember one time anyone was successful.

Alex had invited him to the White House for June’s birthday party. As the night dragged on, everyone but Alex was drunk and exhausted. To tire him out, June had employed some rather…unconventional methods.

Methods that would be extremely useful to him at that moment.

Casually approaching his boyfriend, Henry put a hand on the laptop. Then, after making sure the work was saved, he closed it. He pointedly ignored Alex’s scoff and protests, grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. Alex still squirmed, though a smile was breaking out on his face.

That was all Henry needed to continue. He gripped Alex under his thighs, lifting the man up and plopping him down on his nearby bed.

A surprised sound left him, his cheeks gaining a nearly imperceptible red hue. He was expecting some push-back from Henry, but nothing this active.

“Just couldn’t wait for me, could you~?” Alex weteased, starting to sit up on the bed. Henry was quick to stop that, grabbing Alex’s arms and pinning them above his head.

Before his lover could make another joke, Henry tapped a few fingers on his side. That shut him up, if only for a second.

“Henry, I swear to fucking god, if you try anything-” He was cut off when Henry squeezed his side, resulting in an indignant squeak.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I already have~” With that, Henry clawed his fingers into Alex’s stomach, straddling him.

The tired man tried to bite his lip, but the coffee wasn’t quite enough to give him that energy. A few giggles slipped out, quickly followed by tiny curses.

“What’s the matter, Alex? Something bothering you?” Henry chuckled, leaning down further to try and hold him still.

Kicking and squirming, Alex tried anything to get away from the evil fingers. He was tired, though; his brain was moving at half-speed and felt like it was running through soup.

“Gehehet ohoff me, youhuhu prihick!” Henry has decided to move up to his ribs, scritching and scratching between each bone.

Even on a good day, it’d be hard for Alex to get out from under him. With no sleep, coffee fumes and pure spite, he had no chance.

“Why on Earth would I do that? I’m quite comfortable here. Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself, if that blush is any indication,” Henry taunted, jutting his chin out. He didn’t really need to, but it was a sure-fire way to rile Alex.

“Fuhuhuck off! Hehenry, I swehehear- quihit!” Alex tried to bury his face in his shoulder, though he only drew attention to a new target. Henry leaned down, blowing a raspberry on his boyfriend’s neck. Alex would rather die than repeat the squeal that left him.

“Wow, Alex. Perhaps the Barbara Streisand accusation wasn't so far off,” he teased, his voice about as smug than Alex had ever heard it.

The typically witty man was in giggly shambles, trying his best not to sound like a child. He wasn’t very successful.

“SHUHUhut uhup, youhu douche!!” Laughing like a toddler, Alex was still pumping out insults. Henry was about to put a stop to that. Going for the kill, he hooked his thumbs into Alex's hip divots, kneading and squeezing the area.

That seemed to work quite well.

“GAH- HEHENRY! You- YAHAHA! FAHAHACK!” The law student lost his shit, practically cackling under his boyfriend.

Alex arched his back off the bed, only bucking into the ticklish feeling. There was no room in his mind for witt; the best he could do was “fuck fuck fuck it tickles oh my god-”

Hearts practically formed in Henry’s eyes at the adorably hysteric reaction. Still, as cute as it was, he had a mission.

“This all ends the moment you agree to rest. Or…would you like me to continue? I bet I could just tickle you senseless all night. You’d surely be exhausted then, wouldn’t you?”

Alex couldn’t even get a word out, shaking his head as he laughed. His curls went wild, getting in his eyes and puffing up. Henry wanted to brush it from his eyes, but he had to keep his priorities in order. There would be time for fawning over him later.

“HEHENRY! PLEHE- snrk” It took a solid minute, but Alex’s resolve was weakening. He was already tired beforehand, and laughing his ass off wasn’t helping. The squirming had died down almost completely, snorts slipping into the lax cackles.

While it wasn’t an agreement, the Prince could tell that his lover would be out in seconds. Henry stopped, switching to gentle traces down his sides. The first son tried to calm down, a steady stream of giggles pouring from his lips.

“H-hoholy shihihit… Thahat was evil.” He tried taking some deep breaths, rubbing his cheeks. Alex hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. He was close to just passing out right there, pure exhaustion hitting him like a freight train.

“Possibly. You deserved it, though.” Henry leaned down, gently kissing his curved lips. This sight was one of his new favorites: Alex, his toned skin flushed, practically a puddle of giggles beneath him.

Alex flipped him the bird before melting into the kiss. He weakly pulled his boyfriend down, snuggling against him. He’d all but forgotten about his essay, eyes closed the moment he laid still; the poor guy was wiped. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but all his energy was gone.

Carefully grabbing his phone, Henry set an alarm for six AM.

They’d finish that research paper; he was certain of that. With a bit of sleep, Alex would be a writing machine. True, the slightly rushed grammar would be atrocious, but that’s what Henry was there for. Pulling the sheets up over them both, Henry breathed a happy sigh.

“Good night, love.”

[justahumblememefarmer]

Is Pokémon intuitive to play? An Experiment

My friend was over recently and we were talking about how he'd hardly played any video games. I've been playing many games for so many years that the story structure and controls feel pretty intuitive to me. Particularly with Pokémon. So we agreed to an experiment for him to play and see how he fares without the intuition and experience that I rely on.

I had him play Shining Pearl to start off with. The other Switch Pokémon games have a lot of gimmicks, more complicated controls, and overworld encounters that you have to react quickly to. Shining Pearl is almost 1:1 with the DS game, with a pretty linear story and plenty of tutorials.

If he had any questions, I would answer them, but other than that he pretty much figured everything out himself

The only time I stepped in without asking was when he was choosing a starter to make sure he didn't choose one without looking at all 3 options

The first thing that he had an issue with was with the ledges. He discovered that he could not cross them when running into them. After obtaining his starter and being able to get to the other side of the first ledge he assumed he would still be unable to cross. He did not talk to the NPC that tells you that you can. He eventually discovered you could cross a ledge by accident.

He couldn’t figure out how to get to Sandgem Town at first (didn’t see the grass at the top and was frustrated by the ledge)

The Potions given to him were the first healing mechanic introduced, so while he grinded in the grass before Sandgem town, he would just use Potions whenever his health got low.

It wasn’t until he got to Jubilife that he started exploring more, going into every building and talking to every person

Using the fishing rod he went to the bag every single time to select it, but after three tries with no bites he gave up

He asked me during the first rival battle how to give his Pokémon “The Claw”. I explained that he would have to give the Quick Claw he received to his Pokémon before the battle began

After a while he asked me how to tell what type a Pokémon is (couldn’t tell whether Kricketot was a Fire type), so I told him he could look it up in the Pokedex

The first item he found on the ground was a potion, so upon seeing a second, he said “Oh another potion!”

He did not try catching wild Pokémon for a while. His first trainer battle he tried catching the opponents Starly, and I learned that there’s a special animation where the Pokeball bounces off and the words “don’t be a thief” pop up. He didn’t try to catch a Pokémon until after his first Rival fight (a Starly)

His next 4 encounters were Starly, which frustrated him because he wanted to catch new ones. He finally found a Shinx, which he killed

Barry mentioned Oreburgh having a Gym, which meant nothing to my friend

When he reached the 4-move limit with Chimchar he decided to replace Leer with Power-Up Punch (who really needs status moves?)

While he has caught two Pokémon (Starly and Shinx) he has not yet changed the order of his party, nor switched it out in battle as his Chimchar hasn’t fainted. He just keeps using potions on it in battle if it’s health gets too low (although it got paralyzed and he has been very frustrated by those effects)

He finally started switching out his overpowered Chimchar in battle, but hasn’t found out how to change the order of his party yet

He asked if he caught a second Shinx would it be seperate from the one he caught or add to it

“I think I saw one of those yellow floaty things, I think it’s called a Charmander” I was very confused about what he meant, but in remembering the 10 Pokémon he’s seen, I think he meant Abra

He’s decided to go train on the route between Sandgem Town and Jubilife City with it’s level 2 and 3 Pokémon, but is also complaining that he wants to catch new ones he hasn’t seen yet

He just discovered the guidebook in his key items section and is looking up how to Fish

He’s just gotten the Hidden Machine app and is very intrigued by what it means

lol I forgot that before you can fight Roark, you have to find him at the mine. He is very confused as to where the mine is, and is exploring the tunnel between Jubilife and Oreburgh

Chimchar evolved into Monferno in Oreburgh mine right after meeting Roark. He described it as “A baboon, but it’s also kind of like one of those pilots with the scarves.”

He entered the gym for the first time and then (accidentally) walked right back out

He hasn’t seemed to notice (or said anything) that the attack moves of his Pokémon have an effectiveness rating next to them. The idea of type matchups have not fully sunk in yet

While fighting Roark he tried to switch out a Pokémon and said “I’m looking for one of those Water/Grass Pokémon thingies the guy recommended” looking at his team of Monferno, Starly, Shinx, and Geodude

He doesn’t think to be constantly healing his Pokémon. Entered the gym with Monferno slightly damaged, fought the two gym trainers and approached Roark with Monferno at half health

So far every new move a Pokémon learns he has not looked at what the new move does AT ALL, just seems to blindly pick a move to replace, although most of the time it’s been a status move that he erases

After beating Roark he decided to look for the other 7 gym leaders, who he assumed would also be in the same town

Things he did before trying to catch a wild Pokémon

Been reminded by Dawn to catch Pokémon

Gone to the trainers school

Commented that multiple trainers were “cheating” by using 2 or more Pokémon

Won his first rival fight against Barry (his Piplup used NO water moves and got burned. I was hoping fainting would cause him to try and catch more)

Beat every trainer before the Oreburgh Tunnel

I think he may end up continuing playing the next time he’s over. Every Pokémon is brand new to him. We have hardly touched upon the plot yet. No hints of Team Galactic yet.

[cosmicjoke]

if you could save any character in AOT from dying, who would you save? not in terms of changing the plot or anything like that, but because you really like the character

That's a really hard question to answer, haha. There's so many tragic deaths in AoT, and an argument could be made about why every character that died should have lived.

I think maybe the most tragic death, to me anyway, was Sasha's, because she didn't choose to die. Hange and Erwin, as heartbreaking as their deaths were, at least had some agency in it. They chose the path that lead to each of their deaths, or were otherwise accepting of their deaths. But with Sasha, she didn't choose to die, or accept it. She was shot while believing she was going home and in a celebratory mood, even, happy that she had made it to the end of the mission with all her friends.

Of course, with Erwin, you wish he could have gotten to discover the truth. But I always think, if Erwin HAD lived to see what was in Eren's basement, while he might have initially been happy at finally having proof that his father had been right, it ultimately would have left him feeling disappointed and bereft, and I think his feelings of guilt would only have intensified. To realize he'd charged ahead so relentlessly, only to find out that the world beyond the walls hated them and wanted them all dead. That indeed the discovery of the truth didn't improve their position, but only made it worse. I don't know if Erwin would have been able to deal with the knowledge that he'd sent all those soldiers to their deaths, under the belief they were fighting to free humanity, only to exchange their original struggle for any even greater one. So, in the end, I think it was better for Erwin to die without ever knowing the truth. I think it only would have further deteriorated his mental state. There was a genuine relief in Erwin when Levi told him to give up on his dream and die. He was happy to be relieved of making the decision himself, happy to be told what to do, happy that Levi had freed him from the burden of being torn between his dream and duty, and especially the guilt he felt at wanting to pursue his dream. If the decision had been left up to Erwin, and he'd chosen to live to see what was in Eren's basement, I think it would have tormented him for the rest of his life. Levi allowed him to die a good leader, and that was as good an ending for Erwin as there could be.

And then of course Hange's death was also incredibly tragic, and the realization that she won't ever get to experience any more of the world, when she was such a genuinely curious person, is heartbreaking. But there's also an element of guilt in Hange's decision to go against the wall Titans. This feeling that she was failing to live up to her role as Commander, that she was responsible for leading them to where they were, and needing to take responsibility for it in order to ease her guilt. Of course, Hange wasn't actually responsible. Eren was. He lied to Hange when he accused her of forcing him to do what he'd done because of her failure to come up with a better plan, and that exacerbated Hange's sense of guilt, which in itself is a huge tragedy. Maybe Hange wouldn't have felt so compelled to go to her death if Eren hadn't said what he did to her. But either way, I think Hange felt she needed to sacrifice herself in order to fulfill her role as Commander. It's why Levi's so distraught at her language before she makes her decision, because it's the same sort of language Erwin was using. This idea of needing to fulfill ones "duty" by sacrificing ones self. Levi knew in that moment what Hange was planning. He knew she meant to die.

Anyway, yeah, I guess this isn't really an answer to your question. I wish all three of them could have lived. I wish Petra and Marco and all of Levi's OG squad could have lived, and Mike, etc... I also thought Nile Dok's death was really sad.

But I guess if I had to choose one character who got to live out of those who died, it would probably be Sasha, just because, again, there was no agency in her death.

[octoagentmiles]

Try list any Octo-Agents and think of an Episode you Think give them a Shining Moment

W O O F this took a while– I was thinking long and hard about this because there are SO MANY good moments and episodes 😅, and so many agents– it was difficult, but I’m happy with my answers 👀

Ranger Marsh’s Shine Episode is definitely The Monitor Lizards. I LOVE this episode, it’s one of my favourites in the whole series so far—not just because of the events in it, but as a concept. I LOVE the callback to the Great Swamp Search!! I watched the 2nd season blind, and seeing all these familiar faces was SUCH a fun surprise. It’s good for Ranger Marsh as a character, because it actually shows him doing his job as a Ranger, not as an Octo-Agent. It also reinforces the fact that he truly cares for and is friends with these creatures, even if they are invasive, and that he's willing to travel to check in on them. This is another episode that also proves (to me) that the writers know they’re dealing with an older audience for the show, and are more likely to delve into solid lore and continuity. This episode makes me really hopeful for more of that.

Natquik’s Shine Episode, WITHOUT QUESTION, is The Red Fox. Honestly I feel like I don’t need to explain why, but I will because I like talking ✨: Natquik is my favourite Octo-Agent, but overall we haven’t actually gotten that many episodes dedicated to him yet. The Red Fox gives us a close and personal look into what Natquik is like by himself (I love episodes where characters are alone 👀), how he deals with problems (by ignoring them until they get worse—which is interesting... *stares at Barnacles*...), and even hints toward his family, by showing us his family portraits, and leaving us wondering, “Where are they?” – There are so many moments I love in this episode, from when he first discovers the kits, decides to help them stay warm, rushes to protect Barnacles, to his bittersweet goodbye at the end. It’s all so perfect.

Tracker absolutely shines in The Missing Lake. Honestly, he shines a LOT in Above and Beyond, considering he never got his own episode in the main series, and was only in Operation Deep Freeze for two scenes. AnB has been really good to Tracker, and I’m so grateful they decided to make him an Agent. The Missing Lake sticks out to me the most, because for the most part he is by himself (and I’ve already mentioned my love for that <3), and unlike all his other episodes, we get to really see him be responsible and use his Polar Scout skills in action. He’s often portrayed as a follower, who just goes along with whatever he's told to do, but he takes charge twice in this episode: when he offers to help Rowan, and when he stays behind to save Buck. Love that for him.

Calico Jack. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Calico Jack....... I could talk forever about this funky old cat man. He doesn’t just shine, he GLOWS in every episode he’s in—but alas, for the sake of this post I will be focusing on The Harlequin Duck. I love the showing of his gentle parental instincts in this episode, and his singing; since we know he canonically has a theme song, that I headcanon he wrote himself. I think far too much, and often, about how he legit panicked when he realized the egg was missing. How his first instinct was to hide that fact from Captain Barnacles. He was terrified, having a full blown panic attack on screen. He apologizes to the mother duck with such genuine solace, and promises to get it back “On [his] honour as a pirate!” ...Which is extremely significant to me, considering Kwazii was the first character to EVER say the phrase: “On me honour as an Octonaut!” in The Flying Fish after Inkling’s book was lost – and of course as a final touch, I adore seeing him work with Pete to get the egg back. The way he tosses the egg in the air, fully trusting that Pete will catch it... they’re so in sync, just as pirate and parrot are meant to be ;)

Paani... I feel like there’s so much more to him than what we’ve seen so far, it almost feels unfair to assign him a “Shine Episode”. So, instead of highlighting a single episode, I’ll quickly talk about three that stick out (PS: you might sense a theme 🤣):

The Barnacle Geese - Uncle Paani. I like the “I’ll be my own uncle” joke, and the Edgar Allen Poe reference. I think Paani’s determination to help the chick (who doesn’t seem to want help) is nice to watch, and helps to prove his worthiness as an Agent—which is always fun considering his hesitance when Barnacles tried to recruit him in S1E1. In a way, this episode also makes Paani seem more like Barnacles. See my old post analyzing the show’s intro. (*Stares at the episode title* 👁️👁️)

The Arabian Camels - Take a shot of cocoa every time I mention my love for episodes where characters are forced to be by themselves. This one is especially interesting to me though, because we know that Paani was alone, for a very long time, before he met the Octonauts. He has no trouble working and getting by alone, and we get to see him exhibiting that, while being out of his element (a dry desert) at the same time; and that’s really cool.

The Lonely Frog - ...Y’know how they constantly make the Octonauts/Agents meet creatures with similar issues to them? Yeah. *Stares at the episode title.* *Stares at the end scene where he says “Kinda like when I met you guys!” before obnoxiously jumping into the lake, in response to Shellington+Peso saying “They never even knew each other existed before! [...] and now it’s like they’ve known each other all their lives!”* *STARES MORE AT THE EPISODE TITLE,,* *wonders how long Paani was actually alone before becoming an Agent...*

Pinto, where art thou? He wasn’t in S2 at all, which was a bit disappointing since we just saw him get an Octowatch in S1. I would’ve expected him to be pressing that button every chance he got, giving us a “Penguin who cried Octoalert” episode. But anyway,, The Curious Penguin is the PERFECT episode for Pinto. It shows his personality really well, and I love how his distractions and the things he learns and discovers help him to save the day in the end. I think Pinto (just like Kwazii) is a good portrayal of ADHD, and how he just needs to be in the right environment to succeed. Each time Pinto messes up or loses focus, isn’t because he was left alone and couldn’t be trusted—it’s because he was left alone and understimulated. So when he’s thrown into a sudden high-stakes situation, all of his focus hones in on the moment, and he’s able to save Dashi and Paani by himself.

AND, because you didn’t say it had to be an Above and Beyond moment, I want to throw some love at The Oarfish episode from the main series. In this episode, Pinto no longer views Peso as “less” than an Octonaut, and is so excited to watch him do his job—it’s really cute!! His impulsivity is once again a positive thing—granted, it seems to annoy Peso a little, but when you think about it he kinda saved the day by being impulsive. He sounded the Octoalert without permission, which let the captain know to come back before their radio signal cut out, and by being unafraid of the “monster” and swimming outside, he was able to discover what the problem was so that Peso could help. He did good.

Pearl.... I love Pearl a lot, but I can’t think of one specific episode that comes to mind for her. I love The Pupfish because it introduces Peri to AnB, and I love how he teaches her how to tie a knot, so she can save the algae (and Glen). I like The Bison episode because it’s interesting watching her not doing something with algae for once, and The Pink Glacier because her and Kwazii’s dynamic was something I didn’t know I needed, but now I want more of (/p).

Ryla. Possibly controversial opinion: I liked Ryla in The Caves of Sac Actun, more than I like her now in Above and Beyond. I know she’s only gotten 3 episodes so far, but she’s really missing something. Sac Actun gave us lore on her right off the bat: she’s old friends with Dashi, she’s a skilled cave explorer, she’s spunky, she’s purple. AnB hasn’t given us much yet. So far her only shtick is caves, and that’s getting a bit repetitive. Consider every moment she has in Sac Actun as her “Shining Moment”, because honestly that whole movie is a 10/10.

Koshi,,,, she hasn't gotten that much yet, but I'm gonna say The Longfin Eels is her Shine Episode. I like the way she narrates the whole episode, because it's very in-character. Plus we know she’s literally writing about this adventure in her diary as she's telling it, as if it were a mystery book. She reminds me of narrators from 1920s film noirs, and that’s cool. Also! Honorary mention of the scene when she gets her Octowatch: I loved that for her <3

Min is below the cut, because my answer for her includes some very heavy SEASON 5 SPOILERS, including SCREENSHOTS:

All of Min's appearances so far are dear to my heart. However, my favourite has to be her own introductory episode: The Giant Chinese Salamander.

The Rainforest Rescue is another amazing episode for Min—she’s a wonderful character on her own, of course—but I think we can all agree that she and Inkling are very adorable together (no matter how you interpret their relationship).

When Above and Beyond aired on Netflix, there was a lot of confusion around Min, from the younger audience and other fans who hadn’t seen S5. The Giant Chinese Salamander introduces Min with a 20-minute special; showing her in high-stakes action with Kwazii, bonding with the Octonauts, being an all-around Cool Person™, and a flashback of how she met Inkling when they were younger.

She saved his life. He was thrown far inland by a rough storm, and was trapped until she found him. I honestly headcanon that Min partially (if not outright) inspired Inkling to form the Octonauts, and this moment could have literally sealed the fate of EVERYTHING we know.

But! Until S5 comes out, that's all I've got to say~ 👋💝

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 19: Runaway: Talk about their feelings? Pffft. Nope.

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

What just happened?

Meek Kaya act: head down, hand palming the dagger I kept strapped to my upper arm, mock-obedient… confused as hell.

No one followed us out. Mitsuhide tossed me up on his horse and swung up after, so quickly that we were gone into the rainy night - possibly while everyone was still bemused by our performance. Shojumaru/Motonari might have realized that we’d been searching the place, but we could count on Yoshimoto to muddy the waters a bit, and keep de Sousa's focus on the Chinese ceramics.  

The pouring rain that made it impossible to debrief also made for a wet and uncomfortable journey back to the townhouse. This time of year, Sakai was cold at night, and I finally understood the term 'huddled for warmth.' As we plodded through the cold wet night, I continued to shiver. When Mitsuhide pressed himself closer in response, I could feel those lean muscles through both of our wet clothes.

We’re …snuggling?

We’re not snuggling!

This was just an act of physical self-preservation.

Emotional self-preservation advised me to keep away from Mitsuhide and the dangerous temptation he was proving to be. He kissed me… twice. Maybe that first kiss had been a clinically detached kiss of an actor, but the second one…That second kiss… There was a part of me that was convinced it been the kiss of a man.

Of Mitsuhide.

My logic reminded the rest of me that it had only been a way for an experienced director to get his leading lady to perform the scene perfectly in front of the audience. The only way for that to have been real would be if he were to repeat it in private.

Not happening.

Besides, did it matter? Sure, I could try to decode his motivations from now until the end of time, but my feelings were more important anyway. Those are what I needed to decode.

Ok. So he’s attractive.

I had known this since we met. That didn’t mean I was attracted to him. Liar!  Fine. Well, if I was, it didn’t mean anything more than highly active pheromones, or whatever it was that brought two people together. Acting upon the (alleged) attraction would only complicate matters. Truly knowing what went on inside his head was next to impossible, but I didn’t think he had any ideas or plans in my direction. Nothing beyond simply teasing me because it amused him to do so.

Yes. That had to be it. So there was no need to talk about what just happened.

Ever.

When we reached the house, Mitsuhide sent me inside first to dry off and change clothes. Unfortunately, wet clothes meant an Obi knot that was swollen shut, and without Sho's assistance, I remained helplessly stuck in three layers of soaking kimono.

I got out my knife and tried to pry the knot free without any success.  I was considering simply slicing it open when Mitsuhide, looking dry and comfortable in a loose Kimono walked in. (Without knocking… As usual). He lounged against the door frame, having perfected the art of “the standing casual” pose. "Dear me, it cannot be that tragic. I realize that it must be a shock to discover you’re attracted to me, but it's not worth ending your life."

"You see me tangled up in this dratted fabric, and your mind goes there? That's not even an effective tease." Again, I tried to wedge the tip of the dagger through the knot.

"Come here brat, and let’s see if we can rescue your wardrobe, and my reputation." Without waiting for me to move, he strolled over and began working to free me.

"Your reputation?" He looked so comfortable and, well, warm in those clothing that I felt almost relaxed in his company. "Did you have a prior career as an escape artist that I am unaware of?"

Those gold eyes met mine and a tiny muscle in his jaw twitched. No, he was not comfortable at all. "Your maid might be concerned if your clothes are shredded."

“Isn’t that the point of the Kyubei masquerade - to have that sort of reputation?" I bit the inside of my cheek to school my expression as he slipped his hand between obi and my stomach. It almost felt like a caress.

"Kyubei breaks the spirit and dominates via words. He wouldn't need to resort to physical violence." He carefully untangled the cord, all focus apparently on my clothes.

"And this is different from Mitsuhide, how?" I'd certainly been on the wrong side of his words often enough.

"The man I am pretending to be seeks to dominate through fear and harsh words. If I were here as myself, I would have no need to break Kaya’s spirit that way. It's far more amusing to tease." He tapped his finger on my forehead, and slowly drew it down my face as if he were drawing a line. "There is a certain reward to knowing you have coaxed open a bud.  Breaking it off by the stem is a horrible waste." His finger lingered on my lips for a moment. He gazed at me, his mouth lifted in that familiar teasing smirk, before his finger resumed its journey downward.

I pushed his hand away before it got any lower than my throat. "Either way the flower only lasts a short while longer.”

"Perhaps I should borrow a page from your suitor Yoshimoto and tell you that beauty that is short-lived is no less beautiful while alive, and even more lovely in its memory." He refocused his attention on the knot, which finally unraveled under his touch. At his tug, the obi slipped to the floor.

Quickly I grabbed the edges of my kimono to prevent a striptease. "Yoshimoto is not my suitor. I don’t know what he is doing here, but he's not here for me." Or if he was, it was only because Sasuke had asked him to keep an eye on me. Of course, Yoshimoto was also perfectly capable sticking around just to go shopping.

Mitsuhide just raised his eyebrow at my comment.

Belatedly, I stepped back, out of his reach, and turned toward the cupboard where Katsu's clothing was hidden away from Sho's eyes.

His expression changed to one of suspicion when he saw the hakama and kimono. "You aren't going to go prowling the city for more information." It was stated calmly, but it was as much an order to stay put as anything.

"No. I'm freezing and these are the warmest things I own." I carried the clothes behind the screen to change.

"Fair enough." Something sailed over the top of the screen and hit me with a soft plop. Mitsuhide had tossed a drying towel over.

In that moment between switching from Kaya to Katsu, I felt vulnerable, as if the transition period between the concubine and the courier left me to face Mitsuhide without any protective armor. With a shudder, which owed nothing to the cold, I hurried to remove the rest of the wet clothes, dried off, and climbed into the thick fabric of my other life. Katsu's clothes were designed for the mountains of central Japan, but more than that this identity had been like a shield, and I very much needed to shield myself. By the time I emerged, warm, and covered from neck to toe, I felt much more prepared to deal with the man who had kissed me senseless earlier tonight.

Mitsuhide lounged on my futon, hands crossed behind his head. “One of these days, you will realize that such unrevealing clothing is something of a dare.”

Maybe… I'm not the only one needing armor?

"Silver."

He sat up. '”Rather a non-sequitur."

"Senhor de Sousa had no problem working with Nobunaga, in fact he was considering going directly to him with an offer to set up trade more exclusively with Azuchi. Then Shojumaru offered to broker an exchange. Silver for weapons to be transferred to Motonari Mouri." I paused, realizing that I had spoken without taking a breath.

"So it was greed for profit that motivated de Sousa." Mitsuhide rubbed his chin. "That explains the initial loss of the shipment, but it’s difficult to believe that de Sousa would have betrayed Mai and Hideyoshi when they visited him to inquire after the missing weapons.”

Yeah… I agreed with that assessment. de Sousa seemed more interested in profit than politics. And Portugal was more interested in trade than conquest (in this part of the world, anyway). "No, he doesn’t seem to be that sort of risk taker. Motonari’s name wasn’t unexpected but…” I tried to sort out my tension regarding the information about Iekane in order to present it to Mitsuhide calmly. He didn’t need to know that I was newly upset.

“I suggest you breathe a few times before continuing. I will demonstrate, as it appears you have forgotten how.” He placed his hand on his chest and breathed deeply three times.   

As much as I wanted to snark back at him, it was a good suggestion, so I paused to recenter and breathe. “The man supplying the silver is the same person who locked me inside that crate five years ago. So that might connect Mai and Hideyoshi’s disappearance to Aki’s, but I'm not sure how." What I needed was one of those case walls with strings and pushpins, like they used in all those old cop dramas.

Mitsuhide patted the futon. “Dear me, you’ll wear a hole in the mat with that pacing. Sit.”

I’d been pacing? Huh. I plopped down next to him, hoping that discussing this information could push out all the weird vibes from earlier.

"Start with him then. What do you know about this..." Mitsuhide left his sentence hanging.

"Yamaoka Iekane, no, he’s not related. Aki has us all use his name." In de Sousa’s letter, Shojumaru had referred to him as Kanamore Iekane. "He's using Kanamore now as a paternal name."

"Are you certain it's the same person? Iekane is not an uncommon name.'' Of course Mitsuhide had to be thorough, but something in me resented what felt like borderline gaslighting.

Needing something to do with my hands, I picked up one of the locks I’d been practicing on, and got to work on decoding it. "I have no proof, but he was in that warehouse five years ago at the same time as Motonari. So they do have a prior acquaintance."

“When you said Aki has you all use his name that suggests you have another name. It also suggests… he's not your father after all?" It was posed as a question, but Mitsuhide's soft voice held an accusation.

"He is my father, but for a long time he did not reveal that to me. I believed he was just a man who rescued me from an attack and gave me a place to live and a purpose." I concentrated on the lock, but I was really just aimlessly spinning the tumblers. Mitsuhide stayed quiet until I felt compelled to add, "he did not explain any further.”

"You did not ask? Brat, my acquaintance with you has been fairly short, but even I'm aware this is one of the first things you would have asked." He brushed his hand along the side of my jaw. “That mouth of yours is never still.”

That was unfair… especially given that I had ignored him for over half a week. I gave him a look.

“When you are in an argumentative mood, which, you must admit, is fairly often.” He tapped my forehead, which, yes, I am aware was a dare to argue, but I was more interested in continuing the story… getting it over with.

"Um. He told me in that coded letter you stole." He'd already known I broke into his room to look for it. And now he’d be aware that I'd found it, but I had no other answer to his question aside from the truth.

"Mm. I did wonder if you'd located my hiding spot. Why did you leave it in there?" He took the lock away from me so that I would have to look at him.

"So that you could steal it from me again and hide it somewhere else? Or keep it on your person?" Which he had done anyway, as he had taken his puzzle box with him when he went on walkabout to Azuchi. "Is this important now? I thought your focus was Mai and Hideyoshi, and not my own property and history.”

He inclined his head to acknowledge my point. “By all means. Please tell me what you know about Iekane… which, I imagine does indeed have some bearing on your history.”

“I haven't seen Iekane for five years. And at the time… Aki told me he thought Iekane was motivated purely by jealously. But now I wonder if something else is going on.” Something connected to the time travel? But Iekane wasn’t related to that – at least, I didn’t think he was. But what if-. I temporarily shut down that line of thinking. If I told Mitsuhide about the time travel, would he believe me? Or could I talk around it?

"Once again, I'm going to ask you what you aren't telling me." He turned my chin so I was looking right into those eyes, and it was absolutely the wrong time for that prickly feeling to return. Combined with the off-balance sensation that lingered from the kiss, I had a momentary BSOD as a rush of heat swept through me.

Finally my natural instincts kicked in, reminding me that this man was dangerous – dangerous in ways that I hadn’t imagined when we first met. While I trusted Mitsuhide with my life, I couldn’t trust him with myself. Not when this wasn't only my secret - it was Aki's, and Mai's and Francisco’s and Sasuke's. And so I gave him a different truth, a painful one, one that would protect four other people. "I thought I might be in love with him - Iekane. That is how he was able to trick me into the box. He kissed me a few times." I was grateful that it had not gone any further than that, but still vaguely sick to my stomach at the memory. At the fact that I had let things go even as far as they had.

The look on Mitsuhide’s face suggested that he'd been expecting a dessert buffet and received a package of airline peanuts.

"You must have been fairly young. A few kisses at that age is to be expected." He tugged on my hair. "Should you want more recent kisses to erase his from your memory, I am willing to oblige." He was teasing again, that was obvious. “Certainly, I can do far better than the man who tried to kill you.”

Oh yeah. No question there. But Mitsuhide’s kisses have a lethal effect all their own.

"Two wrongs don’t equal a right.” Oh great. I have resorted to quoting my mother. “In any case, my lips have nothing to with this. What should we do about Shojumaru, a.k.a… er, I mean, also known as Motonari?"

Mitsuhide returned to business as easily as that. "Motonari has access to an entire navy. Perhaps he's keeping Mai and Hideyoshi on one of those ships. Or he may already have taken them to one of the smaller islands in the South. I told Nobunaga to prepare a ship and have it meet us here, while I continue to keep watch over Shojumaru."

"Just you? What should I be doing?" As long as I was still metaphorically tied to Mitsuhide, I didn’t want to be doing nothing.

He raised one eyebrow. I raised both back. I really need to learn that single eyebrow thing.

"As I pointed out earlier tonight, you do indeed resemble a startled rabbit when you do that." At that comment, I deployed my best, the absolute top of the line glare… and he mockingly wiggled his nose and ears. Only when I folded my hands in my lap and put on my ‘ok I’m listening patiently expression,’ did he continue. "We will continue to keep an eye on Shojumaru - as I surmise if I don't take you with me, you will go out on your own as Katsu."

"Or, here's an idea. I can go out with you as Katsu. I could be Kyubei's apprentice or page or assistant.” Katsu’s clothes were much easier to run in. 

"Kaya will come with me." He tugged on my hair again. "Your disguise is very good, but anyone who has seen me with Kaya and then sees me with Katsu will be bound to remark upon the resemblance."

Ugh. He had a point. But at least I wouldn’t be left behind. That was something. “As you wish.”

He snickered. "Are you actually agreeing with me? I ought to kiss you more often."

That deserved an eyeroll and I provided it. But I was eager to divert the topic from that kiss. "Here's a thought. If you fully explain your plans and motivations logically, you might find I agree more often than when you issue orders or tease me."

"The latter is more fun. You might find that eventually you'll enjoy my teasing." Rather than touching me, he ran his finger across his lips, drawing attention to them. "As always the offer of renegotiating our contract is open."

"No thank you.'' I faked a yawn, and stretched. "Now, if you don’t mind, it's been a long night and I'd like to sleep."

"If you say so. Make yourself comfortable." He scooted over, giving me room to lie down in my own bed.

"Alone." I hadn't thought it was necessary to clarify that, but as always Mitsuhide had to make each conversation a contest.

He placed his hand over his heart in an exaggerated charade of romantic disappointment, but obligingly got up. Then, he pulled the quilt around me and neatly tucked me in. For one half-horrified, half-thrilled moment, I thought he was going to kiss me goodnight, but instead, he just tapped my forehead. "Goodnight, Brat."

There wasn’t anything else to say, except, "Goodnight."

By the time I heard Sho clattering around in the kitchen the next morning, I had been awake for too long. Nightmares about Iekane's kiss had merged into far less nightmarish but equally disturbing (in retrospect) dreams about Mitsuhide's kiss. Both had been an act, but Mitsuhide's fake kiss had been enticing enough to make me wonder what it would be like if he kissed me and meant it.

But that snip of hair he had saved in his puzzle box made it clear that someone, somewhere had a prior claims on his heart.

Not that I wanted it anyway.

Therefore any kissing (or beyond) that I did with him, would be purely for the fun of it. And while I wasn’t opposed to that idea in principle, but it was a door I was… well I was afraid to open it.

Certain that my restless night was written on my face, I considered hiding in my room until he was gone for the day, but someone was bound to come looking for me. It was less work to just get up. I dressed in one of Kaya's least restrictive kimonos, and loosely attached a ribbon-like sash instead of the thicker, more formal obi. I was getting bored of Kaya's forcibly shortened steps. Worn this way, the kimono might drag on the ground a little, but I could almost take my normal stride.

When I made my way into the kitchen, it was to see that Hiko had joined us again. Mitsuhide was nowhere to be seen - not that he often ate breakfast with me anyway. Not that he eats anything resembling food either.

"Kyubei is downstairs in the office." Sho answered my unasked question. “He said that you should meet him there after you eat." She cast a critical look at the mess I had made of my kimono. "After I fix that."

Huh, yeah, figured she wouldn't let my too casual look slide. I took the bowl of stewed fruit and rice from her and knelt next to Hiko. "Is this your second breakfast again?"

"Third." Hiko spoke with his mouth full while Sho added, "He ate a rice ball on the way."

Wondering if I could casually find out if Shojumaru had a ship anchored nearby I asked, "Are heading down to the docks today?"

Hiko simply nodded this time, without adding any more information as he powered through his third meal of the day. I ate slowly, trying to figure out how to ask for additional details without appearing too suspicious. I finally settled on noting that Shojumaru had been at the 'banquet' last night. "I didn’t realize he had an interest in art. Does he import anything like that? Statues, vases from the west?"

"I haven't seen any." Hiko didn’t seem interested.

I decided to embellish the question, and added, "Kyubei has an interest and his birthday is soon." In all honesty, I had no idea when Mitsuhide's natal day actually was, but Sho perked up. Oh, because… shopping. I might end up regretting asking, if it meant spending a day sifting through trinkets in the market.

"The next time you and I have a free day, we can go to the marketplace and see what we can find.” She thought a moment. “We could go to some artisan’s workshops too.”

I regret asking.

Then she folded her hands and put on a look of fake indifference. “Or... maybe that Yoshimoto will help us?"

Ha! I thought he had made an impression on her. Although maybe not as much of one as I had hoped, for she added, "Maybe if Shojumaru sees me with someone like Yoshimoto, he'll be more interested in me?"

"Don’t be stupid. Leave him alone, Sho." Hiko handed her his empty plate to wash. "Shojumaru has better things to do than hang around with you." Before he could torture his sister any further, his attention skittered off into another direction and he pulled the three juggling bags that I (as Katsu) had given him, out of his kimono. "Kaya, let me show you what I can do!"

He awkwardly tossed the bags in the air, sending them careening in all directions. As he scrambled around the kitchen to catch them, he banged right into Sho, causing her to drop a bowl on the floor.

"Outside!” She made a shooing motion toward the stairs. "He's already destroyed a vase at home."

Oops. It was my fault for starting him on this hobby, so I followed Hiko down the steps and through the public areas of the townhouse, where Mitsuhide's fake business was doing its fake business thing.

"Going somewhere?" Mitsuhide didn’t exactly grab my arm and pull me back, but his voice had the same effect of stopping me in my tracks.

"Only to the entry. Hiko is going to show off his juggling skills, and they're sufficiently random enough for Sho to bar us from the kitchen." I nodded at where Hiko’s next beanbag toss nearly missed knocking a noh mask off the shelf.

"Ah." He bent his head back to the letter he was writing, which I took as tacit permission to keep going. Not that I would have stopped in any case. But... details.

I left him to it and hurried to the entry, where Hiko was already dancing on the edge of the curb, his face set in concentration as he tossed the bags into the wind. I wished I were dressed as Katsu so that I could give him a few pointers to help him control the toss.

A few times the bags went far to the left or behind him, causing him to jump back and forth between the sidewalk and the street. It was still too early in the morning for there to be any casual pedestrians to be bothered by this, although even at this hour, the city was not quiet. At the other end of the street, an oxcart carrying crates of, well, I assumed sake, pulled up in front of a restaurant. A couple fishermen came up from the direction of the harbor, both lugging baskets of their fresh catch.

Following them was a lone man, strolling, the epitome of ‘acting casual.’ As he approached, the figure became recognizable as Shojumaru. He halted across the street, and leaned against a building. The expression on his face was intent… almost angry? Was he watching the house? I supposed he could simply be waiting for Hiko. More likely, if I asked him what he was doing, he would probably use the kid as an excuse.

When he realized I had seen him, those features quickly rearranged into that affable smile.

Right. Smilers. Never trust them.

Further away came a crack that echoed through the street.

Gunshot?

Shojumaru and I both immediately alerted and looked around.

There … a man, just in profile, slipping around the corner of the restaurant.

The profile was enough though – it was Iekane.

Before I could give chase to him, I realized that barreling down the street was the sake merchant's cart, the startled ox gathering speed, as the leather yoke strap dragged on the road behind.

Completely oblivious, Hiko stayed in the street as he leaped after and caught a bag in one hand. “I got it!” His celebration kept him in the path of the runaway cart.

"Hiko!" He didn’t hear me, but I was already running.

Shojumaru was rushing toward the boy too, but I was closer. Even with the impediment of the narrow kimono, I got to Hiko first. I grabbed his arm and flung him at Shojumaru, who caught the kid and set him on his feet, safely out of the way of the frightened ox.

I turned back toward the townhouse, but something tangled under my foot – the trailing fabric of the loose sash.

One moment of useless flailing was followed by the image of the street rushing toward my face.

Shit, this is going to hur-

@bestbryn @lorei-writes @lyds323 @selenacosmic @tele86 @akitsuneswife

[jomiddlemarch]

into a mist will go the belief in harbours

Eric had always known he didn’t belong.

Not as a member of the royal family, nor a proper island native, born and bred to the sound the waves made breaking on rocky Kwadril Cove. His mother smiled when she recounted the story of his first taste of the salted porridge babies were traditionally fed, how he’d spat out every last spoonful and they had to commission an entirely new wardrobe for his nursemaid Annora. Eric had learned to frown in a wry manner and make some anodyne comment about preferring tannia cakes with genpil chutney.

They’d kept part of the shipwreck he’d been found in, the splintered wood refashioned into a series of elegantly gilded picture frames to hold small paintings of the king and queen, the private villa across the bay that was the royal retreat, the family portrait where he was perched on his mother’s knee in a bonnet and white dress trimmed with handmade lace. He was meant to take comfort from it, the remnants of his first life salvaged and improved, the colicky orphan who’d been transformed into a perfectly charming little prince for the kingdom to coo over.

“You were the answer to your mother’s every prayer,” his father the king had said so often Eric knew the shape his lips took with every word. How long a pause there was between your and mother’s. They had thought he would not remember what he had lost to attain his position, but though he did not have a single memory to sustain him, Eric still carried that first aching grief and the second one that came of needing to conceal it beneath a smiling visage and endless cheerful gratitude. He’d learned very early not to ask any questions about how he’d been found; he mustn’t try to discover any detail that hadn’t already been deemed worthy of inclusion in the story that was told, the one that included a terrible storm, a foundering ship, the baby wrapped in a scrap of sail, the old fisherman who’d fetched him up from beneath a wave that would have finally drowned him.

“You were meant to live. Meant to come to us,” his mother said so often Eric knew it would hurt her if he argued or asked why. Why had the mother who’d borne him been swept away without holding him in her arms? Why was he the sole survivor and where had the ship he’d been born upon come from? The mother who’d nursed him, the father who’d sired him, they couldn’t have meant for their child to be taken from them, to a life far different from whatever they had known. He knew he did not want to hurt his mother the queen nor disappoint his father the king and so he said nothing, saving his questions for maps and the journals of explorers that were kept in the palace library. He rambled as far afield as the maids and palace guards would let him and if he woke in the night with a clawing feeling of dread, he confided in no one, for no one wanted the confidence of the prince, only his stalwart figure waving from a verandah.

It had almost been a relief to fall into the sea, the ship burning around him. He’d known he was too far from the lifeboats to be saved and the ocean asked him to be nothing but himself, a nameless man of no people, welcomed to the darkness. He had almost remembered something when he woke on the shore, something besides the woman’s haunting voice, the rich sunset color of her hair. Some fragment from his life before, when he had been ordinary, a child who could not hope for a jeweled diadem, a navy to command, bound to his wealth and power like a mermaid to the ocean’s depths. He had spent his whole life being Prince Eric and he sometimes wondered whether he fell in love with Ariel first because she didn’t know who he was any more than he ever had himself.

@silvercaptain24​ had wondered about the lack of Eric backstory angst and I felt called upon to oblige...

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Time Travel AU

In which Zuko dies in the final match with Azula - and then wakes up back in early season 1.

The moment he saw Azula’s eyes shift away from him, Zuko knew he was in trouble. Because Azula always knew where to hit to make it hurt the hardest – and Katara didn’t know how to redirect lightning.

So he ran, without even thinking about it. He acted on instinct and he was glad he did, because it meant he was fast enough to catch the lightning – but not fast enough to be grounded enough to let it pass through him. Instead, pain unlike anything he’d known before – and he’d known a lot of pain in his life – engulfed him, and he was lost.

His last thought was that he was glad it was him. He was glad that he was dying for doing what was right for once, and he was so, so glad that he’d had the chance to know what family looked like before the end.

He was glad that he was dying fighting for the Avatar, fighting to end this war and bring about peace. Maybe he wouldn’t live to see that peace – but with his friends leading the way, he knew without a doubt that it would come to pass.

So he was dying at his sister’s hand – but honestly, he probably had a smile on his face, because the last image in his mind was of his friends, the only friends he’d ever truly known.

––

Only then he woke up. Not only that, but he woke up somewhere he recognized, somewhere that it was impossible for him to be.

His ship had blown up. There was no way he could be laying on his bed in his old quarters.

And yet, nothing changed when he pinched himself. He threw his covers aside and got up, and the cold sting of the metal against his feet felt awfully real. When he raised a hand to scratch his scalp in bewilderment, he discovered that he had no hair. Or rather, he had very little hair, and only in one diamond at top of his head to make up the phoenix plum he’d worn for so many years.

Zuko swallowed hard. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. How could he be back here? Had – had he imagined everything?

The way his heart wrenched told him his feelings about that. No. He couldn’t have imagined his family. He couldn’t have imagined the way they taught him what love truly was. He couldn’t have imagined his redemption.

It had been real. He remembered it. Something – something insane must have happened when Azula’s lightning hit him, but it did happen.

Just thinking of the fight with Azula made his abdomen ache and when he pulled up his shirt, he discovered a vivid pink scar shaped like a burst where the lightning had hit.

It had been real. It had been real.

There was something both utterly relieving and heartbreaking about that, because he was no longer there. He no longer had the little family he’d built.

He sniffled, blinking back the burning in his eye. He’d just have to rebuild it. Which meant he needed to figure out when he was exactly, because he’d lived on his ship for three years and this could be any time during that.

What if Aang hadn’t woken up yet? What would he do then?

His breathing was starting to become a little panicked, so he focused on the exercises Uncle had taught him. He would figure this out. If Aang hadn’t returned yet, then Zuko would just need to wake him up. At least now he knew where the Avatar was.

…maybe this time, he could avoid crashing into the Southern Water Tribe village?

Shaking himself, Zuko dressed and put his hair up and prepared himself to be the person he used to be. He needed to get some answers.

So he marched to the bridge, and – and Lieutenant Jee had been one of the ones lost at the North Pole. (Zuko had checked when he’d gone back to the Fire Nation as a hero after he supposedly killed the Avatar. Most of his crew had not made it.)

Seeing Jee now made the burning behind Zuko’s eye returned and he blinked rapidly, clearing his throat.

“Report,” he said when Jee turned to him.

“We’re still repairing the damage from the blockade catapults,” Jee said, the line of his lips mulish. He was clearly expecting Zuko to blow up, angry at the fact of reality.

It hadn’t taken much to anger him back then. Now. He’d been so angry at the entire world, because he’d been hurt and he’d been told it was right, and he hadn’t known how to deal with that, so he’d taken it out on other people.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he could recognize the behaviours.

He didn’t want to go back to being that person.

“Notify me as soon as repairs are complete,” was all he said, turning on his heel and heading off to find his Uncle.

He was a little bit scared of facing Uncle again, of facing a version of Uncle that didn’t know how badly Zuko had betrayed him.

But this time, Zuko could make sure that he didn’t betray his Uncle. He’d make sure that everything happened differently. He had to.

Uncle was sitting in the mess hall, hustling Crewman Taka and Junior Lieutenant Syko in two games of Pai Sho at the same time.

“Uncle,” he called, and Uncle turned to him with a wide smile.

“Nephew! Have you decided on a heading?”

“Uh.” Jee had said they were making repairs to the damage from the blockade catapults. That meant it had to be just after the winter solstice – just after Zuko had foolishly run a Fire Navy blockade in his pursuit of the Avatar.

He’d done a lot of reckless things in his years, but that one was high up there on the list of worst ideas ever.

So if it was just after the solstice… what had happened next?

His gaze darted to the Pai Sho board and his expression soured. Right. Uncle’s stupid lotus tile hunt had been next. Which, while he was not eager to relive that experience, did give him a place to start. He knew where his friends would be – and maybe this time, they could avoid tangling with the pirates.

“There’s a trading port not far from here,” Zuko decided. “We’ll resupply there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Uncle beamed. “I’ve been meaning to do some shopping.”

“Ugh.” Zuko rubbed his forehead, migraine spiking. It did that regularly enough that he could ignore it, but it was still annoying.

He didn’t actually have anything to say, but he wasn’t prepared to leave Uncle yet, not when last he’d seen Uncle was turning away from him in the cell.

He’d been such a fool.

“Would you like to play a game, Nephew?” Uncle offered, eyes warm and smile friendly. Zuko didn’t deserve it, but he lapped it up anyway.

“No,” he said, even as he took a seat near Crewman Taka. Uncle pulled out another Pai Sho board and laid it between them.

Zuko sighed. He honestly hated Pai Sho. The rules made no sense, everything had seven different meanings, and it was as nonsensical as Uncle’s proverbs.

But Uncle loved Pai Sho. So Zuko would lose horribly to him to make him happy.

––

He’d hoped he could avoid the pirates altogether. Unfortunately, he’d never been lucky. He did arrive in time to see them running away from the pirates – but when he joined the chase, they understandably were not exactly relieved to spot him.

He saw it coming moments before it happened. One of the pirates was an earthbender and they dug a crevasse right under Aang, Katara, and Sokka’s feet. Zuko lunged forward, reaching for them – and managed to fall in right behind them.

It was a rough descent down into the dark and he felt significantly more bruised than he’d been before when he finally landed heavily on his back.

“Ugh,” he could hear Sokka groan. “Everyone alive?”

Aang and Katara both called responses. Zuko did not.

How was he supposed to do this? He couldn’t chase Aang like he once had, but would they ever accept him as a friend?

Well, he never would’ve believed they would when they did, and he’d done some terrible shit that mostly hadn’t happened yet.

So… it was worth trying, right? The one problem was… Zuko had no idea how one went about making friends. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed it in the first place, much less how to replicate it.

“Anyone got a light?” Sokka asked, and Zuko didn’t really think about it before lighting his palm on fire.

He could see the others jump, whirling around to face him. He didn’t really know what to do, so he looked around, examining the cavern they were stuck in. It was… pretty much just a stone cavern. One without an exit.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his head where he’d definitely hit something on the way down a little too hard.

“Is your fire brighter than before?” Aang asked curiously, as though he wasn’t trapped in a small cave with his enemy.

Zuko hummed in answer, feeding more chi to his fire to make it flare with light.

“Yeah, there’s no way out,” Sokka said, something despairing in his voice. It was always a bad sign when the Plan Guy was discouraged.

“What do we do?” Katara asked quietly.

Zuko tilted his head back to look up the cliffs they’d fallen down. He… could probably manage to climb them. He’d climbed up the Air Temples while still adjusting to losing half his senses, and in retrospect, he must’ve stressed Uncle out so much during that, because he’d insistently refused any assistance. Even when he couldn’t quite stand straight.

He cleared his throat. At any rate, he could spot enough footholds on the rockface that he could probably make it out. But according to Uncle, most people weren’t as good at climbing as he was, which meant that while he could get out… Aang, Sokka, and Katara couldn’t.

Huffing a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, “don’t suppose you’ve started learning earthbending yet?”

Aang’s grimace was the answer to that.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Zuko groaned. What were their options here? …did they have any options?

He sighed again.

“I know the theory,” he said, half an offer.

“The theory of what?” Katara asked, nose wrinkled with suspicion.

“Earthbending.”

There was silence for a long moment.

“You–” Aang stuttered, “you want to teach me earthbending?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Zuko arched an eyebrow.

[gremlintiny]

Defender (1)

~Everything here is just a work fiction. Every person, place, institution, event and etc. is not a representation of any of the real ones. Written purely for entertainment.~

Word count: ~5800

Genre: lore, mystery, alternative universe

Warnings: mild angst (yet), unnoticed loneliness, hidden information from OC/MC, illness, mentions of latin names (I'm sorry, I had to-)

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After several days of migraine, nausea, vomiting and fever, Mikaela could finally spend a day without strong symptoms of his sickness while learning about the structure of the human brain. It was indeed a nerve-wrecking subject which still had solvable mysteries in it and many thought that they would be the one to find an answer to at least one of them in the future.

Mika was like that too. He hoped to discover something new, something significant to engrave his name into the history books of Strictland. Although when he shared this information with a faint smile on his face, his colleague looked at him with a puzzled expression and told him not to smile again. When he thought about it later, also remembering what he was taught in school several years ago, he recalled that it was a sign of an emotion, ‘happiness’. He didn’t even notice it until the other party mentioned the fact that he was showing something like a ‘feeling’. It came naturally, but he didn’t feel what the books described. Although it went somehow like ‘happiness is nothing but a trick to distract our precious mind from trying to gain more knowledge’ which sounded kind of awful when one wanted to become a known researcher.

So, he tried not to think about meaningless things when he finally could rest and train his ‘precious organ’ without having to fight against the virus. It was pretty exhausting to work like that too, being completely isolated and he was only allowed to go in to do crucial parts of the progress. Pig and chicken neurons won’t measure themselves and produce enough ingredients to work, will they?

When he finished a part about the eighth, vestibulocochlear nerve, he got up to make some nutritious supper while listening to the radio’s news. He usually paid attention to the evening programme, mainly because he had the most time in that interval and he developed this habit.

Hearing that nothing unordinary happened, besides people making bad or reasonable decisions again, he went back to his book to continue the previous topic. It was timely as well, since most of his migraine was located next to his nerve VIII. He only scoffed a little silently because he had no problems with his hearing and the doctors assured him that his health should be restored after a few days or maybe 1-2 weeks of rest, at max. It had nothing to do with his brain nerves.

Soon, the young man felt sleepiness creeping up to him. He finished the current part (“The colliculus inferior and cell types”), put down the now closed book and headed straight to the shower.

In fact, he was a man of habits. He woke up around the same time every day and went to bed in the evening as well, after eating a meal that won’t upset his body or brain. He had to work six days a week which meant he could only improve his knowledge about human anatomy in his little free time, so he tried to use all of it to the maximum extent. He needed to provide enough energy to his body to function effectively, therefore he rarely forgot to eat or drink, although he had to pay extra attention to his posture, which tended to be similar to the Pandulus borealis, aka the northern prawn’s shape.

He also liked talking to himself. Pretty much. Even in his workplace, but fortunately, his colleagues were sort of maximalists as well, so they didn't pay much attention to him and they didn’t have to spend 10 hours together inside one room either. The separation and required workaholic mindset solved this problem. It didn’t help Mikaela take good care of his throat though, even the intelligent scientist wondered sometimes why his vocal chords hurt when he excused himself after clearing his throat.

When something wasn’t going right or was distracting to his mind, he got somewhat disoriented that wasn’t left unnoticed by the others around him. A researcher suggested once a ‘mental disorder’ test, that ‘can analyse up to 200+ diseases with a high accuracy’. Mikaela declined this rather too pushy offer and just practised staying rational in those weird situations.

During his quick, cold shower, he was thinking about his life. He went through it from time to time, just to imagine himself as a lead doctor in the Academy’s main laboratory. It always caused a convenient biochemical reaction in his body. As he was a scientist himself, he tested this in the office with the most equipment. He did this during a short break instead of going for a walk in the simple garden so he only had time to check the dopamine and cortisol levels. The first was higher than what was written in his medical report and the latter one was lower.

He didn’t even notice the small smile sitting on his lips as he put his toothbrush back to its place after finishing the fancy thought and walked to the bed with a bottle of water in his hand. A newspaper awaited him on his nightstand that included the happenings in his area. He speedily ran though some pages but nothing significant was in it. His gaze lingered around the pictures of some rebellious individuals and a photo collection of a new historical event. He swore to visit it when it opened and he had a day off before putting the paper down and steadily slipping into the territory of sleeping.

His first, supposedly freshly healed day started off with another headache. Although it was different from the ones haunting him during his illness, it still left Mikaela in a less organised state. At least it disappeared right after he drank a shot of the usual whole body ‘booster’ dosage, as some called it.

He ate a protein rich breakfast, packed his lunch and the prescribed immunity system support tablets, then he walked to the institute. Most workers lived a few blocks away in order to make it easier to approach the building. Generally, people had to stay near the place they had to visit almost every day, such as the office or the factory. This way, the government saved a lot of money, just as the residents. It was only rational like this.

The day was pretty normal, Mikaela didn’t have to stop as many times as he thought he would and most of his coworkers greeted him with professionalism, although some seemed to behave differently. Since he didn’t have to meet those often, he simply didn’t think about it more. They were probably either scared of getting ill as well or thought it was wrongful to let somebody rest this much without giving them a warning.

His research was going more or less well, most of his material was kept neatly and his absence only caused them to have more time to adjust to the new environment. Not like it meant anything, many scientists just leave their subjects alone to die without having to use anything and still collecting data from them. Yet, Mikaela couldn’t really agree with them. His main test substances were cells, mostly neurons from different animals but he couldn’t bring himself to just let them perish from not getting enough one of their primary needs.

After all, his job was at that time to grow organoids to run different kinds of experiments on them to discover what part of them reacts to various factors which could happen to the real organism. He had heard about a person two days ago in another section of the company who was assigned with the lead team in studying ‘emotions’ and how to stop their harmful effects. The fact that he was almost completely separated from the others was the really strange part of the news. Despite that it was probably because he could focus more on the research and the chance of distractions or reactions was lowered significantly. He had to be a pretty remarkable person, since usually only one person got this promotion out of a hundred chosen scientists a year.

Mikaela was inspired to work harder from that point on to achieve that title too. By this driving thought, he continued planning out several tests to perform after the current one ended. Or if he got the permission to start another one in the meantime, during it. Many were running at least two experiments at the same time to have results ready faster, but only those got authorization who proved themselves worthy and collected enough to divide their attention. Or, more like, divide their time into two or more segments and they only focus on the one they wanted to, then jump into the other task with full force.

This section’s main commission was to examine livestock and other useful animals to enhance their nutrition score, then with the additional time and money, to provide more information about their nervous system, hormones and yet not 100% known regions.

This is how Mikaela got his job. He specialised in the human brain, but his knowledge was proven worth in this field as well because his goal object in his tender was to improve the encephalon’s nutrient uptake that can help with mental performance based on the support of the modification of molecules found in food.

Still, his thirst for human anatomy was not fulfilled with only reading and watching detailed videos of it. He wanted more. It is why he pursued a long-wanted dream of his, especially after he had just heard that somebody was randomly promoted to such a crucial position.

Maybe this is why his next week was spent mainly in the institution, under the artificial lights’ cold touch. But he wasn’t really different from the people working there, he was used to this environment and found purpose in it. If the particular test was successful or could at least give him some new information. Naturally, it was an impossible task since most experiments will be a failure at first, and only after some tries, can it be fruitful and stay consistent. Or one might have to give up that specific test for some time, if it is proven impossible at the moment.

Despite that it seemed like Mikaela’s efforts were rewarded with more and more answers, he still had a long way to go. But that day, he sensed something. He was a little bit more sloppy than before, less efficient and his mind occasionally wanted to turn itself off, like it got tired of thinking so much. But it has been functioning like this for decades, what’s the meaning behind the change?

The silent evening reading sessions were getting worse and worse too. Mikaela felt like his head was going to burst if he looked at one more paragraph in the suddenly thick looking book. He still enjoyed knowing more and not so common facts, but the dry, monotonous hours made him exhausted sooner than normally.

He began wondering, was this the aftereffect of the virus? He even questioned it at the appropriate person but he was reassured of being physically fine and it might be just a sign of retirement. Mika blinked a few times at this, because he was not used to these ‘bad jokes’ as some scientists called this kind of behaviour. After the explanation, he left with an even heavier chest - which has never happened before.

Fortunately, a few things could actually help to make this weight vanish. He listened more to the radio’s news and read more papers about not only scientific topics, but everyday events. Making food got longer as it was easier to do too instead of learning. He hasn’t abandoned his habits though, everything was going similarly with some changes in the activities.

Next day, he had to visit the industrial doctor because all of the colleagues he met informed him how pale he was. Even though he didn’t recognise any physical abnormality, the only strange thing was the supposedly existing pressure on his sternum and costae. He told this the medic as soon he was asked about any pain in his upper body, excluding his heart and head. An unidentified light flashed through her eyes, immediately disappearing after half a second.

Mikaela had to be discharged without any concrete results because she couldn’t find anything wrong either, but she looked like she wanted to say one more thing before letting the man go. In the end, she just closed her mouth, took a deeper breath and told him to be careful, it might be only some exhaustion but it could also mean a much worse disease.

With these weird words, his concentration dropped again. He didn’t even finish his lunch, the same type he eats everyday, destroying it to the last bite usually. ‘What’s wrong with my properly calculated portion? Did I make a mistake while making it? Or were the eggs larger, perhaps?’ Mikaela thought as he was stimulating a chicken heart organoid which was commissioned by another food processing company’s head assistant. A few important sponsors and patrons liked eating chicken heart containing meals as it had a convenient bite size and nutritious, ideal to consume regularly. In fact, Mikaela was also a fan of them since he could include them easily in his diet, although he didn’t do it that often. He preferred chicken breast, fish and eggs for some reason.

Seeing how the little heart reacted to different signals, did not help his appetite. He tried to suppress the thoughts of him being defective with the explanation of ‘I have used this ingredient in my own meals, and we get too many orders over the last years in connection with chickens. It is repetitive and not a real challenge.’ Another word popped into his mind as he was chasing away the other ones. ‘Boring’. He remembered it from a distant memory where a kid was saying it elongated. It happened probably during a lesson because an older voice lectured the child quickly. Being bored literally means the person feels a defined emotion and can express it as well. Which is pretty bad around here.

Luckily, a newcomer’s question broke him off this train of thoughts. The man has just finished learning in Prestige Academy and was already accepted for this government job as a full-time working researcher at the ‘human emotions’ fraction. He had to show more of his best to be able to stay there. But what was he doing here, again?

“Excuse me Mikaela-ssi, but I have been given the task of checking on workers who were forced to take a sick leave. I only have a few questions to ask, may you have the time for this quick survey at the moment?” The younger one was not too organised, maybe he hasn’t gone to many people yet. Even though his section is far away from Mikaela’s... There were probably only a few cases in the last month, nothing else.

“Sure, just give me a minute to put my equipment into a sterilising chamber.” The Gallus gallus domesticus organoid observing male did it promptly and neatly to secure the normal depuration. “Thank you for your patience, I can pay attention now without a problem.”

“Thank you too. First question; are all of the symptoms gone or do you still notice some changes in your health?” Mikaela of course answered honestly, even mentioning the light weight feeling on his chest. He didn’t see the same unknown light in the other one’s eyes appearing too, as it did in the doctor's.

“Okay. This is not uncommon in the cases of getting infected with a virus still in the testing phase, unfortunately. Second question; have you felt any changes in your work or everyday life?” It was a slightly strange thing to ask. The context was right but something simply wasn’t on track fully, although Mikaela couldn’t wrap his head around this matter.

He had to give an appropriate response though. “Well, truth to be told, only smaller ones. The biggest change is getting exhausted faster than before, but I also had to rearrange my schedule at home a little bit.”

“Could you elaborate more on the altered schedule?” Was heard the sudden interjection of the younger man. Mikaela had to blink twice to react quickly.

“Yes, of course. For example, the duration of making food got longer and I read more news instead of scientific books. I still do the latter one as well, but not as much as previously. My habits stayed the same nonetheless.” He tried to answer earnestly but the weight got somewhat heavier on his upper body.

The other party only nodded, finally looking away to write it down on his sheet. “I see, thank you.” The strange glow flickered. “Third question, based on your previous response; have you seen or heard anything in the news that was outstanding in any way?”

Mikaela’s head started to hurt, yet again. “No, not really. It’s more like I find the news more appealing after working.” Why would any of them stand out? It didn’t sound necessary to his illness and healing process.

The survey contained a few more questions, as he could tell by glancing at the paper secretly. “Okay. Fourth one; has anybody, who looks unreliable, approached you?” Mika simply said no since he didn’t know anymore what kind of questions were these.

“Thank you. Last one; what do you feel in general?” Did he make a mistake when looking at the sheet and there weren’t more questions in reality?

The older one had to blink more before answering. “My physical conditions are normal, I am able to do my daily exercises as well without serious problems and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with my immune system either.” That not promising light got weaker at the end of Mikaela’s sentence in the other’s iris. One couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

The newbie nodded a bigger one and finished writing. “Thank you very much for your cooperation and time, Mikaela-ssi. You will receive your report within two days.” He almost stepped away before stopping his movement. “Ah, and have a nice day.” 

Mikaela’s head tilted faintly to the right without him noticing. “Ah, thank you for your time as well and… have a nice day. Is it another practice at the Human Emotions Department?”

The younger one’s moderately narrowed eyes weren't overlooked by the blue-eyed person. Even if he didn’t have any clue what they meant. “Something similar. Goodbye.” And the newcomer was already walking away, leaving a rapidly blinking Mikaela behind in the laboratory.

Something was off. He could tell, but had no idea what. Experiencing two similar things during the same day was almost impossible to be a simple coincidence. As the figure completely disappeared, Mika quickly noted down everything they had said and tried to write down what happened at the nursery too. He might encounter more strange events in the future and he can connect the dots - if there are any.

Concentrating on his project was almost useless with these new, odd phenomenas in his mind. Fortunately, he only had two hours left until his clocking out so he finished the important parts and left almost right away. In fact, he usually went home late after the end of his working hours but he hoped nobody would take it as a sign of something bad. He just needs more time after the long break. That is why they have to do these tests on him. To make sure he can continue working as an efficient person.

With many racing thoughts in his head, he headed home. Even went for a longer walk to improve his physical health even sooner, and to clear out anything that had been restricting him these days.

He couldn’t recall where this idea came from. Was it in a health related article or in a newspaper’s biology section? He only seemed to remember a blurry picture of a paper, with a running man on it. His mind was failing him once again, he usually could recite what he read a few days ago, but this time, it was just like a part of a dream.

He shrugged it off as he started walking faster, which felt exceptionally great at the moment. The air wasn’t contaminated as much as it usually was on weekdays, said the report coming from the speakers on the walls. Somebody was always on duty, telling the latest and most important events to keep the citizens updated. It was a first class way to have everything as organised as it can be, for example, proficiently preventing accidents.

After a good half an hour walk, he returned to his home to rest as well. Mikaela quickly took a detour to the store before that to restock the ingredients he uses the most and to buy more immune system supporting ones. Those ones aren’t his exact type but he knew some recipes to make use of them. They were also more expensive.

Arriving at the flat, he immediately headed to the kitchen after washing his hands and face. First thing first, the soup - an abundant soup of vegetables and collagen rich bones and meat. He made it extra spicy since certain ones, like ginger, can really boost the body when it’s needed. The second meal was a stranger one, but he had a weird taste to begin with. He prepared spinach and salmon, and tried to top it with fresh lemon juice and plump but he rather put it aside for his tea after the filling dinner. Ginger tea and lemon go with each other, if one’s taste buds like them.

The black haired man had to collapse into his sofa to avoid sleeping on the floor or at the table. Had to pay more attention to his posture too, and turning into a new life form with a bent back wasn’t his goal. He slowly turned on the radio to have something to listen to as he closed his eyelids.

He didn’t even make an attempt to fool himself. He was way too tired to properly process what they are saying in the show. Was it the weather cast? Or the news? Or an informative one? The last thing he heard was something about ‘black piranhas’ or what and his brain suddenly jumped into the darkness.

Around three hours later, he suddenly got woken up by a random noise, although Mikaela wasn’t sure that it wasn’t only in his dreams as he dreamt about him being clumsy in the laboratory. Don’t let an elephant into a porcelain shop, he thought to himself as he tried blinking and rubbed his face. His sleepy mind randomly recalled a saying that his parents usually told him in his childhood.

Since it was already evening, he quickly washed the dishes, put the remaining food into the fridge for tomorrow and after, if it lasted, then went to grab the vacuum cleaner. As he finished his usual routine, because he needed it to keep order in his apartment, the man with light coloured irises was eyeing the mop as well. He really didn’t feel like doing it pshysically, but it was time to wipe the floor shiny. With a strong exhale, he began the operation.

Don’t squish all of the water out, let it wet the consistent dirt, it will soak it in anyway and one can just easily swipe with the mop and it’s gone. If not, repeat the process until one's eyes get dry from staring at that one spot too intensely to make sure it’s really not there anymore. For the naked eye, at least.

The poor radio was still saying its things in the background while the male was tidying as fast as a dying coral. A woman with a high pitched but somehow smooth voice told the audience about the new achievements in nanotechnology, then a man was interviewed who was a professional in hearing implants. The next member on this show introduced himself as a soon-to-be doctor who is currently studying and practising to be a special ophthalmologist, determined to bring light into more and more people’s nervous system through an artificial ‘eye’.

Despite these topics being pretty interesting, Mikaela had to concentrate on doing his chores and he only listened to it half as well as typically. He noticed a faint pain on the side of his head when he finally sat down, but it had been there for minutes, based on the stage of the physical feeling. Did it appear during the nanotechnology results’ short but compact summary or was it when the next one started talking about the diversity of problems that can cause the hearing to deteriorate and the many reasons behind the complete loss of it?

Because he could only try to measure the time accurately, he gave up on determining the exact time and wrote “Was doing normal household chores and didn’t notice it right away. Estimated headache duration: 20-35 minutes.” down in his ‘Health check’ notebook.

The whole flat was looking glamorous, he even cleaned the blinders. One can not be careful enough when it comes down to respiratory problems caused by dust or mould, although it was already the middle of spring.

Plopping on the sofa again, he exhaustedly glanced at the book he was reading in the last few days, then the newspaper, with all thoughts lost. It was soon time to sleep, why bother with doing it? ‘Maybe the paper, that should be fine before showering, I only have less than half an hour to do anything…’ He said to himself in his mind.

However, after a long and deep sigh, he grabbed the print and thudded back into the seat, sitting as normally as he could to help his spine, respiratory and digestive system. At least this was his excuse. Soon, his eyes widened a little bit as he was reading the articles. The young man found one about the human emotion cancelling program where a previous beggar, who even used drugs, successfully became a doctor in cardiac surgery.

The whole situation was exceptional, because they usually get dragged to the disposal site to make one last use of them. But a bunch of lucky ones got the chance to live another life, as a working and ordinary person in this society. If it could continue in the future, more and more lost minds could be integrated back to the public as normal people. Isn’t it the most reasonable solution to this problem?

But one shouldn’t run right into a good looking wall, head on, as soon as something new happens. It will take a long time and a lot of persuasion to actually achieve this goal. Endless hours of paperwork, permissions, approvals, results, presentations, public opinion, countless subjects and still, nothing would be guaranteed. Maybe the said person who graduated as a doctor, had already been at university for years but something caused him to quit it and the downfall began. What if the majority of those people hasn’t even put their feet into a school building or they aren’t even motivated the slightest to change?

Mikaela then moved onto the next news, because thinking about this wasn’t his job yet, despite the goals of his. His brain couldn’t process the first sentence as he was still brooding over this possibility and the thought of a new application to work in that department.

The light eyed one had to read it again because of that, of course. Then he just blinked quickly a few more times. The article was about a criminal organisation who wanted to spread the disease - human emotions. They call themselves the “Black Pirates” and they are overly dangerous since they would even use violence to make the residents of Strictland feel those threatening things. The writer included the known pictures of the main members, eight men, dressed in black, as the name suggested. If anybody sees them, they have to report it right away so the community can stop an epidemic of human emotions that might even end this world.

Mika stopped blinking faster than he usually does but at the same time, he didn’t notice his brows getting knitted. He found it absolutely irrational to cause the society to fall over some ‘feelings’ that can even hinder people. He was completely okay as a normal, emotionless person, working a useful and brain training job before going home to make food, read interesting books and news. Imagining the havoc it would cause if he tried to spread this theoretical disease made him shake his head as a sign of disapproval.

The man rather just finished reading the article, then jumped onto the next one to stop his mind running around this topic. What a useless thing to do if they could just live their lives in this paradise where everything is in order. Fortunately, the next subject was a better option to read before going to bed since it shared the results of ecological wins regarding bigger towns. A certain group gave their all in to upgrade the water system and many reported seeing the more sensitive species habiting the waters again, after decades.

The last conscious thoughts of Mikaela were about the re-education of defective ones and the walk he will take on the weekend to check on those new-old species. The rebellious gang didn’t cross his mind more than once, and only to recall the features he had to report if he saw them.

Since the weather cast had a high accuracy, he took their advice during the following days. He put aside the warmer clothes and only brought one plus sweater when he went to actually see the wildlife mentioned in the newspaper and overall the whole area as well. Mikaela made sure to carefully examine everything he wrote down in his notebook. He even added things he was able to notice, took pictures of many things to organise them later in a community group’s article. Numerous people uploaded information there to share it with the world and to document it easily.

A week later he finished this little project. He thought he had done a good job after gathering much data and comparing them to others’ studies and results. Of course, it was just a free-time programme to do but he still wanted to give his best. After all, he already had a connection to animals, why not upgrade his knowledge by spending more time in nature? It was also recommended by the main face of the health facility to go out more, which was heard on radio or on the streets and seen on the television a few times a day, but they suggested this strictly only for scientific reasons. No matter how bad the weather was.

Many went out even in a storm to collect enough information for their project. But most people spent the majority of their freetime in their blindfolded houses or flats. Mikaela didn't even know how other people lived their daily lives. Based on what he had heard from his colleagues, they spent their time similarly like him after work. 

He just shrugged his shoulders unconsciously before checking out the document for hidden mistakes and misspelt words, with his references opened on other sites. The days were grey almost all of the time anyway, there was no meaning of trying to do something more sensible. One was fine in the apartment, reading or doing chores, for example. He didn't need anything else to live and it was completely normal.

The success rate of his experiment got higher after he exercised his brain more in the afternoons, with the observation of the endangered species, the environment and reading much more of this topic on the net. His mind seemed to work perfectly again. He could breathe fine, just like before.

He didn't get any more strange surveys or questions either, so he thought he passed them and that there was no problem with him. It was simply a little aftereffect of the still not fully tested virus. The chances of him being a danger to the others were low to begin with, but when he got the last special medical report, where everything was good, he stopped thinking about it more than it was necessary to do.

His co-workers also didn't avoid him as much as during the last few weeks. He got into more conversations in scientific news or also regarding their own tests, which was a great way to improve one’s knowledge and way of seeing the world. Or, if not the world's, but a small project's that he was doing, too. Life went back to completely normal, and the weird pressure was gone from his chest too.

Mikaela stuck to his habits strictly most of the time, but he was able to be flexible about changing them or rarely even replacing one with another. The former one happened with observing the local species and reading newspapers. He didn't replace the latter though, it was simply reduced and relocated in other sessions. The subjects of his books stayed more or less the same, but he put his hands on more ecological ones to improve his view of the real universe.

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The middle-tall man was peacefully working on a new song he wanted to release soon. The pinch was decided a long time ago, but something was still missing. The problem probably lied in the rhythm of the drums itself, although he felt like something else was off.

After hours of trying to figure it out, he dropped down his pencil and smashed his head not so violently into the half wooden, half plastic desk. He truly was tired and the fact that he had been doing this painful, not so fruitful brainstorming for days straight during the nights after work, did not exactly help the man.

He exhaustedly glanced at his phone which showed him three unread messages from his brother, whom he hadn't seen for probably two months now. The thin figure slowly regained his power to sit sort of normally and answered the other one.

His brother wanted to meet him before the male and his group had to go on another tour, again, and also, maybe even to go home for a family lunch. The sleepily blinking one felt his chest getting tighter, his throat getting stuffed with a non-existent material and he just made one blink longer to think it through.

True, he will have time after next week. Yes, that could be just fine. Meeting his beloved ones might even charge him up a little bit. After fighting the urge to actually fall asleep, he typed it down to his brother, who was pretty happy based on his unsually qiuck reply.

The younger one smiled, with much love in it, and told the older sibling that he will go now to sleep, finally. The other man urged him to do it, half-jokingly scolding him for torturing himself like this again, and again. But both of them knew that the musician loved doing his job, with all his might and would even fight the whole world to bring this sensations to others.