#but I can totally understand not wanting to put himself under that pressure and scrutiny

[three-headed-monster]

https://www.tumblr.com/three-headed-monster/760661695171641344/how-do-i-explain-that-in-the-luke-hughes-character

You get it. But I would like to add on that I feel like he feels so proud of himself that he is following in his brother’s footsteps but as he gets older he was put under pressure and scrutiny for it even though it is the most little brother thing in the world, that he feels insecure about following in his brothers footsteps

Ugh this doesn’t make sense but it the best I can explain it

i totally understand your thinking anon! i feel like most of luke's inner turmoil about it is more about how the media and other people view him solely as an extension of his brothers and not his own person. and it also sucks because it makes him resent the things jack and quinn did to make themselves names in the nhl and give luke a path to that, when he doesn't want to ! he's always been appreciative and loving of his brothers, there's just immense amount of confusion about who he is outside of that, of them, the people who made him everything he is but also make him feel suffocated with how MUCH they are sometimes. he loves how much they are, but he just wants one thing that's his and he doesn't know how to find it yet!!!!

[crusheswhimsandfancies]

Steve and Reece on Countdown

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 9

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 6371

Author’s Note: This chapter gets pretty dark so be careful and check the tags, if you need to! Also, if you want to skip the darker subject matter, just skip he middle section. There are breaks between the sections and there’s enough context afterwards for you to be able to get the idea without having to read it. Enjoy the long chapter ;)

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, Trauma Responses, Nightmares, Imprisonment, Panic Attack, Self-deprecation, Accidental Self-Harm, Swearing, Control/Abuse, Violence, Weapon/Knife, Stabbing (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Tingling chills crept up Logan’s neck as Virgil slowly leaned away from him with a blank look on his face. Logan felt a sinking feeling in his chest as he waited for Virgil to respond. He nervously tapped his fingers on his leg as he considered the possibility that Virgil didn't believe him.

“I know it's-"

Virgil raised his hand, indicating for Logan to stop talking. He stood up from the sofa, moving to the fireplace. Gripping the mantel with one hand, he covered his eyes with his other hand, gently putting pressure on his temples.

Logan felt an eternity pass as Virgil stood unmoving at the fireplace. Logan’s throat and chest burned from tension as he waited for Virgil to speak. Every cell in his body ached to justify his accusation but Logan held his tongue, biting back the urge to push Virgil. If Virgil didn’t believe him, he hardly wanted to make the consequences worse for himself.

Finally, Virgil turned around to look at him with a serious expression. Logan's eyes flicked to the door, yearning to be anywhere else than on the receiving end of Virgil’s intense stare. He swallowed, tearing his gaze away from the door, knowing full well that Virgil was faster and stronger than him. He was trapped. Logan closed his eyes, bracing himself for Virgil's response.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

Logan's breath caught in his throat as he looked up at Virgil. He cautiously searched Virgil’s face but his face was calm. Logan couldn’t sense any malicious intent in Virgil’s inquiry. Still, Logan hesitated before he spoke again. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

Virgil looked out to the window on the far end of Logan's suite. “We have to tell Roman.”

“Wait—" Logan protested.

“L, I understand your reasons for not wanting to tell him but his life is at risk if he doesn't know. You have to understand that already.” Virgil’s voice was firm but not unkind. Logan’s anxiety eased a small amount, knowing Virgil seemed to believe him.

“Of course, I understand.” Logan exhaled, defeated. “But Virgil, it's my word against Remus'. I don't know Roman as well as you, so forgive me if I'm wrong, but Roman’s reactions to my treatment have been quite emotional.”

Virgil was quiet, lost in thought as he listened to Logan.

Logan took a breath. He spoke with more confidence as his unease starting to settle. “I don't wish to be misinterpreted. I appreciate that Roman cares enough to be upset on my behalf, but I can only assume telling him that his brother was responsible for my suffering would illicit an even more extreme emotional response.”

Virgil crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. “That's not an unfair assumption of how princey would react.”

“Roman’s already under scrutiny for how he's handled my situation. By some miracle, Roman saw through Remus’ façade and believes my innocence, but many people still believe I'm guilty. They believe that I am part of some greater conspiracy to manipulate Roman, and that Roman's naïve for believing otherwise.” Logan paused. “If Roman reacts rashly, it will only serve to confirm people’s suspicions that I'm somehow influencing him. I don't want to know what could happen if people start to lose faith in Roman, and I don't want to give Remus the opportunity to take advantage of Roman’s good nature, Vee.”

“You’re right. We need to be tactful about how we share this information with him or he could go totally off script.” Logan watched as Virgil started to pace back and forth across the room. “Roman hates his brother already. Even I can't even predict how he'll react, but we can't hide this from him. He needs to know, in case Remus decides to try again.”

“I know.” Logan murmured, watching Virgil from the couch. He could hear the hiss of the gas lamp and he watched Virgil silently pace the room.

Slowing, Virgil moved over to the window, interlacing his fingers and resting his fingers against his lips in a hushing gesture. Deep in thought, he silently gazed out the window, moonlight filtering down on his face. “I know a way to confine princey until we can talk him down.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “How do you intend to manage that?”

“I have to call in a favor.”

“That is unhelpfully vague.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me on this one, L.” Virgil exhaled.

"I guess that's the least I owe you. You are trusting me on this whole matter.” Logan leaned back, resigned. He exhaled and his eyes drifted up to meet Virgil’s. “Thank you for believing me, Vee. I am aware that this is a lot to accept from someone you only recently met.”

Virgil shrugged. “Honestly, it's not as much of a stretch of the imagination as you might think. Roman's no stranger to Remus’ cruelty, and it's no secret to me. It's only hard to believe he'd actually be bold enough to actually try to kill his own brother.”

Logan sighed, exhausted. “I didn’t even realize he was the Roman’s brother.”

“You didn't know?” Virgil turned to lean his shoulder against the wall, giving Logan a confused look.

Logan shook his head tiredly. His eyes were distant as he stared down at the ground. “Not until yesterday.”

Virgil didn't respond, quietly staring at Logan sitting on the couch. “L?”

Logan looked up at him.

“I know you don't want to hear this but you should probably get some rest. It's late.”

Logan sighed. “I know. I don't think I can sleep though.”

“That's the adrenaline talking. You’re exhausted. When was the last time you really slept?”

“I slept this afternoon."

“No, you didn't.”

Logan looked up at him in confusion.

“Your door was cracked open when I left this afternoon. I don't know how long you were listening to Roman and I but you weren’t sleeping.”

Logan’s face flushed. “I'm sorry. I-"

“It's fine, L. Relax. I'm not mad.” Virgil interrupted him. “It was nothing I wouldn’t have said to your face. Don't make a habit of it but, this time, I'll give you a pass. I can't blame you for wanting be certain that we weren’t deceiving you.”

Logan sighed, looking up at Virgil apologetically. “I’m glad I didn't upset you, but regardless, I apologize. I'm asking you to trust me, and yet, I clearly wasn't able to do the same.”

“Seriously, L. It's fine. I would have done the same thing.” Virgil leaned back against the wall. “My point was that you didn’t sleep.”

“I slept some.”

Virgil raised his eyebrow skeptically. “More than a couple hours?”

Logan hesitated, glancing up at Virgil, but decided to be honest. “Probably not.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed in on him. “When's the last time you slept more than a few hours, L?”

“I don't know.” Logan admitted sadly.

“Go to bed. Table the issue until tomorrow, okay?”

Logan nodded, smiling at Virgil as he reluctantly moved to his room. He paused outside his bedroom door, fidgeting for a moment before glancing back at Virgil. “Uh, thanks for looking out for me, Vee.”

“Someone's got to do it. It may as well be me.” Virgil smirked over at Logan for a moment before his face softened into a smile. “Seriously though, I'm glad to do it. Don't worry.”

Logan smiled over his shoulder before slipping into his room. Once inside, he wandered to the bed and slid under the heavy blankets. Exhaustion settled over him as he pulled the blankets up, letting the dense blanket weigh him down. Sleep claimed him moments later.

-

Logan wiped the dust from his eyes as he pushed himself off the ground. His heart sank at the sound of metal restraints moving with him. Groaning, he laid his back against the cold, stone wall behind him, glancing anxiously around the cell.  Moonlight filtered into his cell through the window high above him, casting an eerie light in the space around him. Logan inhaled sharply, clenching his eyes shut and trying to quell the panic welling in his chest. He buried his head in his arms, trying to keep his breath steady.

It's only a nightmare. All you have to do wake up.

A few minutes passed and he wrapped his arms around his chest, digging his fingernails into his skin.

Why am I so useless? I can't even do something as simple as wake myself up.

A loud breath escaped him as he stifled a sob, burying his head in his arms. Waves of panic wracked his body as he willed himself to wake.

It's too real. Something’s wrong.

The cell only seemed to solidify around him as he dug his nails deeper into his arms.

No. Please no…I can’t—

He was jolted back to awareness as a distant noise from down the hall startled him. Logan’s muscles tensed as he heard movement coming towards him down the hall. He jumped up, scrambling across the floor to the far side of the cell, lifting his chains to avoid making noise. Curling up behind the cot, he tried to shrink himself out of sight into the shadows. He took a deep breath.

It's just a nightmare.

The voices continued down the hall and despite his best attempts, he couldn't make out who was speaking. He leaned forward, straining to hear, but he refused to move closer to the cell door.

Frustrated, he gave up and curled up tight against the wall as darkness crept in around him. Logan started to shake with anticipation of what that night would bring.

Stop panicking. It's just a nightmare.

He begged himself to believe it but he could feel his resolve weakening. This didn't feel like his other nightmares. This felt too real.

Something’s wrong. I need to wake up. Stop being so stupid.  Just wake up, you useless—

Logan stopped in his tracks as he spotted movement in the corner of his eye. An unusual, amber light began dance against the wall outside the metal bars of the cell door. Logan could hear indistinct voices coming down the hall towards him. Logan bit back a panicked whimper as he cowered back into the shadows.

No. Please, no…Just wake up, you idiot—

Logan's breathing became rapid and shallow. The flickering, amber light grew brighter, illuminating the entire room in a soft glow.

Logan forced himself to breathe normally, counting in his head like Virgil had showed him. When he finally regained his composure, he peeked his head out above the cot, trying to determine of the source of the bright light. Another wave of panic racked his body as he imagined that the tower may have caught fire but he dismissed the idea. He reasoned to himself that the room would be filled with smoke, if that were the case.

Logan stood slowly, hesitating as he crept to the door. Memories flooded his mind as he crept silently across the room, but before he could even reach the door, his chains jerked him back. He looked down at the taut chain restraining him to the wall. His panic gave way to frustration and he pulled manically at the shackles until they cut deep into his wrists, not caring if the loud noise brought him unwanted attention anymore.  Tears welled in his eyes as he stifled another sob, falling to his knees.

What the hell is happening?

A yell was ripped from his body a hand grabbed him painfully from behind, spinning him around. Logan stumbled back, trembling as Remus’ face popped out of the shadows. A threatening smile stretched across his face as he lunged at Logan.

Instinctively, Logan jerked back but his restraints stopped him midstep, causing him to stumble and hit the ground hard.

Nonononononono…It's just a night—

“Oh no, pretty boy. It's not a nightmare.” Remus interrupted his thought, chuckling coldly as he approached Logan. “Not yet.”

Logan tried to scramble to his feet but Remus jabbed his foot into Logan’s shoulder, forcing him to cringe in pain as he was pushed back down to the ground. Remus stepped on the chain connecting Logan's hands, pinning them to the ground above his head. He squirmed, feeling vulnerable but Remus held him effortlessly.  

"You’ll stay down, if you know what's good for you. You've caused enough problems already my little pest.” A chill swept through his body at the threat in Remus' whisper. Logan forced his body go limp, relenting to Remus' control.

“Good boy.” Remus' sick smile made Logan's stomach turn. He moved his foot off Logan’s chains, knowing he wouldn’t have to tell Logan twice. The amber light around them began to flicker chaotically as Logan curled up in a ball on the ground, shaking.

“So, pretty boy. I truly made a big oopsie. Didn't I?”

Remus' upbeat tone made Logan's stomach turn. He closed his eyes, willing himself to be anywhere else.

“I underestimated my idiot brother's tendency to take in strays. I really should have known he couldn't resist someone as pathetic as you.” Remus crouched next to Logan, smiling as he flinched away. “Still, I thought you knew better. A few days with Roman is all it took to ruin all the progress we made. Suddenly, it’s like you think you get to fight back.”

Logan remained limp on the floor, not daring even to breathe.

Remus smirked at him, rising back to his feet. He tipped Logan onto his back with his foot, smiling cruelly down at Logan as he loomed over him. Before Logan could react, Remus stepped on Logan’s chest, his boot digging into the bottom of Logan’s ribcage, resting all of his weight onto his sternum. Logan yelped, struggling to breathe.

“Answer me, pretty boy.”

“What?” Logan squeaked.

Remus’ ankle dug in deeper and Logan whimpered. “Do you feel like you can fight back?”

“No,” Logan wheezed.

“No, what, my little pest? I trained you better than that.” Remus stared down at Logan, the light flickering chaotically in his eyes. A demented smiled crept across his face.

“No, sir.” Logan spat out.

“Oh…no, no, no… that won't do anymore.” Remus giggled manically slid his boot up to Logan's throat. “You know who I am now, pretty boy. You'll refer to me as  ‘your highness’.”

“No, your highness.” Logan wheezed, gasping for breath.

Remus held his foot down, smiling at Logan’s compliance. It seemed like an eternity passed before Remus stepped off his throat, allowing him to breath. Logan curled up on his side, gasping for air. Orange and red lights danced around the edge of his vision like flames in a fire.

Logan felt Remus push him down onto his stomach and kneel in front of him. He groaned as Remus grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head up to look at him.

“Alright, my pest. Let's get down to the juicy stuff.” Logan cringed at the serious look on Remus' face. “I need to know if you've told my brother anything about our late night meetings.”

“No,” Logan muttered. “He knows nothing.”

“Try again.” Remus commanded, tightening his grip on Logan's hair. He choked back a whimper.

“No, your highness. He knows nothing.” Logan repeated, bitterly glaring up at Remus.

“Good boy.” He leaned down close to Logan's face. “Now, did you tell anyone else?”

Anxiety spiked in Logan’s chest but he shoved it down, trying not to let it show. He spoke as calmly as he could manage. “No. You’re highness. I told no one else.”

"Tsk, tsk, pretty boy.” Remus released his grip on Logan’s hair, shaking his finger at him.

Logan flinched at the scowl on Remus' face.

“I thought I taught you not to lie. Funny, a few days is all it took to ruin you.” Remus pushed Logan onto his side and stood up. Logan tracked Remus' movement in his periphery. He barely managed to brace himself before Remus turned around, plunging his foot into Logan’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Listen here, pretty boy. You know you don't belong in this world. Your not strong enough to play with the big boys.” He leaned over Logan as he glared up at Remus. He crouched down, grabbing Logan’s face and holding him still even as he tried to wince away. “My brother can't keep you safe forever.”

Logan was quiet, refusing to meet Remus’ gaze.

Remus laughed, pushing Logan’s face away. “All the same, I'm feeling generous today. I'm going to do a good thing for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, your highness. I would like that.” Logan’s words were empty as he sank back down to the ground but he gave the answer he knew Remus wanted.

“Good boy. Now, listen closely.” Remus kneeled down on one knee behind Logan’s head. He gripped Logan’s shoulder, pulling it to the ground so Logan lay flat on his back again.

“If you keep our meetings a secret from my brother, I'll leave you alone. As much as I enjoy our time together,” Logan’s skin crawled as Remus ran his hand up his jaw. “I'm willing to give it up for some peace of mind. You can live your new life. Do whatever you want with my idiot brother. I'll leave you alone. All you have to do is keep my secret. How does that sound, pretty boy?”

“I would like that, your highness.” Logan spat out an automatic response, but his mind raced at the implications of Remus' suggestion.

Rems frowned. His voice turned to a menacing growl. “I hear a bit of hesitation in your voice, my little pest. So, let's talk about what happens if you’re not as cooperative as I know you will be.”

Remus reached to his waistband and drew a long, sharp dagger from its sheath. The lights danced on the silver blade and red light reflected in Remus' eyes as he flashed a deranged smile down at Logan. Remus dashed towards him and Logan tried to scramble away, but he wasn’t fast enough. Remus slammed on top of him, pinning his shoulders down with his knees. Logan tried to squirm away, but Remus held him down, leaning over him. Logan held his breath as he felt Remus press the blade against his throat. “If my dear brother catches wind of our relationship, I will take you from him in the dead of night. I will hide you away where he will never find you and I will make you will regret existing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your highness. I understand.” Logan wheezed, feeling the cold metal on his throat.

“Good, pretty boy.”

The flickering light at the periphery of Logan's vision brightened. Logan squirmed as he realized the edges of the room had caught fire. Without warning, the whole room erupted in flame as Logan struggled under Remus' weight but he was trapped, unable to shake him off. He looked up at Remus. His pupils glowed red and he smiled maniacally down at Logan. Logan panicked, fighting to get away.

“Just one more reminder of what’s at stake,” Remus giggled wildly, plunging his dagger into Logan's shoulder.

Logan cried out. His vision blurred, flames flickering on the edge of his periphery

“Goodbye for now, pretty boy.  Keep our deal and you won't have to come back here. Choose to fight me, and you’ll be back here soon.” Remus twisted the blade in Logan's shoulder. Logan screamed, his vision fading to black.

-

Logan woke screaming, drenched in sweat. He flung himself forward, suddenly free of Remus's weight. Thunder crashed above him, shaking the room. He flinched, covering his head, as Virgil burst through the door of his room. Scanning the room, Virgil realized what was happening.

“It's okay, Logan. You’re awake. You’re safe.” Virgil jumped up onto the bed, pulling Logan into a tight embrace, trying to stop him from hurting himself in his panic.

Logan slowly started to recognize his surroundings, his panic dissipating. Seeing Virgil didn't startle him as much this time. Instead, feeling his arms wrapped around him brought a sense of relief. The adrenaline was fading from his body and he collapsed from exhaustion into Virgil’s warmth. Virgil sat holding him until his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Jeez, L.” Virgil rubbed his shoulder. “That was a lot more intense than last night.”

“It-it wasn't a d-dream.” Logan managed to stutter.

“Of course it was, L. It wasn’t real. It's okay now. You’re safe.”

“No.” He replied, his voice steadying. He pulled back from Virgil, leaning his head back against the headboard.  “I've had nightmares since I was a kid, Vee. That wasn't a nightmare. That was… something worse.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil looked at him skeptically.

Logan folded his arms in his lap, silently trying to find the words to explain his experience. A flash of lightning illuminated the room and thunder roared in the distance as he processed what happened. He’d only just turned to Virgil to speak again when his shoulder started to burn, pain shooting across his chest. Logan groaned, clenching his teeth as he doubled over in pain.

“What's going on, L?” Virgil asked, panicked. Logan curled up in pain for several more seconds, leaning into Virgil shoulder. Unsure of what else to do, Virgil wrapped his arms around Logan gently.

“Logan. What's going?” Virgil whispered, panicked. He put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and he cried out in pain at the contact. Lightning lit up the room as Logan looked up at Virgil and a look of shock flashed across Virgil’s face. “Logan?! What—”

Logan exhaled as the pain faded to a dull ache. He collapsed into Virgil’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Virgil wrapped his arms tighter around him.

“I-I'm okay. The pain is easing.” Logan breathed. He sank further into the bed, exhausted.

“B-but—what—” Virgil stuttered manically glancing down at Logan. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Great, now I'm seeing shit.”

Virgil frowned when Logan didn't even move. He leaned down to get a look at Logan’s face. “L? What just happened? Are you okay?”

Logan shook his head tiredly. Virgil watched in horror as he pulled down the neck of his shirt, exposing his shoulder. A large, dark bruise had formed just to the side of his collarbone. The skin around the bruise was irritated, red and warm to the touch.

“What the hell?!” Virgil gently reached over, placing his hand on Logan’s wound. Logan winced but leaned closer to Virgil.

“That solidifies my conclusion that it wasn't a dream.” Logan whispered, his eyelids drooping.

“I need you to stay awake, L.” Virgil guided Logan’s face up to look at him. “What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

Logan looked up at him tiredly. “It started like a dream. I was back in the dungeon, but everything was wrong. Nothing felt right.” Virgil could feel Logan quaking in his arms. “Remus appeared behind me. He knocked me to the ground and…” Logan shuddered and trailed off.

“This still sounds like a dream, L.” Virgil whispered softly. His heart pained for his friend.

“No, it was different.” A pained breath escaped him. “Remus spoke to me. The way he talked… it's like he knew we were in a dream.”

“He talked to you?” Virgil’s expression shifted but Logan was too exhausted to keep looking up at him.

Logan nodded. “The bruise. He…he stabbed my shoulder, and he twisted—"

Virgil wrapped his arms tight around him, pulling Logan’s head to his chest. “Shit, Logan. It's okay. You’re safe now. I've got you.”

Logan exhaled, exhausted. “We have a problem, Vee. Remus made it clear that if I tell Roman that he's responsible for what happened to me, he’ll take me from you guys. He’ll—” Logan curled closer to Virgil, tears in his eyes.

“I won't let him take you, L.” Virgil replied, fury in his voice.

Logan smiled at him for a moment, before his face dropped, defeated. “Virgil, he’s in my dreams. If he can keep me from sleeping, that alone could kill me.”

Virgil sat silently for a moment, running a hand through Logan's hair. He sighed, reaching into his shirt and pulling out a small, brass amulet on a long chain. He pulled it off and slipped it around Logan’s neck. Logan looked down at it, confused. The stone in the center was translucent with wisps of black. “Take it for now. It'll block some of the bad energy.”

Logan raised his eyebrow tiredly, as he examined the amulet. “What is it?”

“It's a dispelling charm. It scrambles your energy and makes you more difficult to find and blocks any negative energy headed your way.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  Stones are inanimate objects. They don't create or dispel energy.” Logan mumbled into Virgil’s shirt.

Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling playfully. “You were just assaulted in your sleep and you're going to debate me on this?”

Logan smiled.

Virgil relaxed, smiling down at Logan. “Listen, I think I know someone who can help. Are you okay enough to take a walk?”

Logan yawned, barely nodding. “I think I can manage.”

Virgil looked at him skeptically, watching Logan struggle to keep his eyes open. “Good enough. Get up. Grab your jacket. I'll be right back.”

“Wait, Virge—Don’t leave me—" Logan protested, anxiously grabbing at Virgil’s sleeve.

Virgil’s heart broke at the sad tone of Logan's voice. He rubbed Logan’s shoulder. “Hey, it's okay, L. I'm not going far. I'm just going to call the guards in the hall to escort us. Come on. Get up.” He nudged Logan towards the edge of the bed until Logan reluctantly stood up.

Virgil waited until Logan walked over to his closet before he left the room, glancing nervously back at Logan as he slipped through the door.

Logan pulled his coat out of his closet, but he turned to the bed too quickly. He staggered and nearly fell. Steadying himself, he moved over and leaned on the side of the bed until his legs felt stable again. He groaned. His chest ached from the bruises as he lifted up his coat, barely managing to pull his jacket on as Virgil returned.

“Are you ready?”

“I think so.” He said, pushing up of the bed . Suddenly dizzy, he stumbled, nearly falling into the wall.

“Easy, easy. Don't rush. L. Put your arm around my shoulder.” Virgil rushed over to help him. He wrapped a hand around Logan’s waist, careful to avoid his injured shoulder. Patiently, he waited as Logan adjusted until he felt comfortable.

“I'm good. Thanks, Vee.”

“Okay, carefully now. Let’s go.” Virgil led him through his chambers to the main door.

Stepping out, Virgil held Logan up while he locked the door behind them. Logan looked up nervously at the two armed guards standing on either side of the door, towering over them.

Feeling vulnerable, Logan leaned into Virgil. An uneasy breath escaped him.

Virgil turned to him. His eyes flicked between Logan and the guards before settling back on Logan. “You’re okay, L. I've got you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Okay." Logan replied weakly.

“Come on. We got a long way to go.” Virgil said softly, before nodding at the guards. They took positions in front of and behind them and followed as they proceeded slowly down the corridor. Thunder echoed around them and lightning illuminated the dimly lit halls.  Logan snuck a glance out one of the windows as they walked. The window glowed with a soft light and could see the moon peeking through the storm clouds outside. Logan’s heart dropped at the sight of the moon still hanging high in the sky.

“I must not have been out for long.” Logan thought out loud.

“Two hours, maybe. You definitely didn’t sleep long enough.”

Logan moaned and his speech started to slur. “I don’t know how long I can keep goin’, if I don’t sleep soon.”

“You’re going to sleep tonight, L. We're getting you help. Now, hush. Save your energy. We'll talk when we get there.” Virgil sighed, unnerved by how fast Logan was fading.

“Where’re we going?”

“You'll find out when we get there, okay?”

“’Kay, Vee. I trus’ you.” His words slurred with exhaustion.

“Save your strength, L. We're almost there.”

They approached a set of double doors Logan recognized. “Are we—"

Virgil hushed him. “Later, L."

The guard in front of them opened the door for him. Virgil led him into the courtyard. Virgil turned briefly to the guards. “You’re dismissed. Return to your posts.”

Exchanging confused glances, the guards nodded at Virgil. Logan sighed with relief as they turned to leave. They closed the doors to the castle, leaving Virgil and Logan alone outside the castle. Virgil pulled up his hood before helping Logan adjust his own. Logan looked down to the wet ground, his vision swimming as he tried to watch as the raindrops struck the puddles below them. Virgil led Logan through the rain, around the edge of the courtyard, keeping to the shadows.  They moved slowly, making every effort to stay out of sight. Logan’s eyes drifted up, focusing, as he recognized the path they were following.

“Are we goin' to see Patton?” Logan asked, confused.

“You know Patton?”

"Met him earlier.  Pat's nice. He doesn't hate me.”

“What?” Virgil cocked his head in confusion.

“He doesn't hate me, like mos' people. ‘Cause they think I tried t'kill Roman.”  Logan said, slurring and stumbling over as he nearly lost consciousness.

Virgil lunged forward to catch him, accidentally grabbing Logan’s wound.

Logan whimpered softly.

Virgil eased his grip apologetically. “I'm sorry, L. We’re almost there.”

“Why'd we leave the guards, Vee? I don't understand why we did that.” Logan asked. His eyes drooped, unfocused.

“Because I want as few people as possible to know where you are, L. For your sake and Patton’s.”

“Oh, ‘dat makes sense. You’re smart.” Logan mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Okay, stop talking, L. You need to save your energy.”

“Oh…” Logan made a disappointed noise. “I'm bein’ annoyin’.”

“What?” Virgil looked down at him. “No, you’re not being annoying. I just don’t want you to pass out.”

“It’s okay.” Logan slurred. “Sometimes, I get excited an' I talk too much. People don't wanna listen to me ‘cause it's annoying.”

Virgil couldn’t help holding Logan tighter as he helped him up the stairs. “I like hearing you talk, Logan. It’s not annoying. I just don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself.”

Logan quietly leaned into Virgil’s shoulder.

“You good?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay.” Virgil turned and pounded on the door, holding Logan up as he waited. “Patton, open up!”

A few moments later, the door slowly opened and a sleepy Patton looked out at them, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Virgil? What's going on?”

“Patton, I need your help.” Virgil pleaded.

Patton looked down, eyes widening as he noticed at Logan fading in and out of consciousness. Suddenly awake, he rushed to Logan’s other side to help Virgil carry him inside.

“Careful, Pat. His shoulder's injured.” Virgil warned, as Patton approached Logan's other side.

Patton's face filled with concern, but he nodded at Virgil as he gently slipped under Logan's arm. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist as they helped him through the door.

The small house was quiet. Virgil glanced over at the small fire crackling in the fireplace, illuminating the room in a warm glow. It would have felt cozy, if it hadn't been for the half-conscious friend he had hanging at his side. Logan murmured incoherently as they carried him across the room.

“Okay." Patton gripped him gently. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you in the bed, ‘kay?”

“Uh… huh.” Logan muttered. His eyes fluttering closed.

Virgil lightly jostled him. “Stay awake for a little longer, L.”

“‘Kay, Vee. I'll try.” Logan muttered, barely audible.

Patton and Virgil carefully helped Logan onto the bed, laying him down gently. Virgil sat on the bed next to him, making sure Logan stayed awake.

“What happened, Virgil?” Patton hissed at him, distressed.

"I'll explain soon. I promise." Virgil held his hands up in surrender. “But first, is your house warded?”

Patton stopped in his tracks, taken aback. “Well, yeah. Just basic stuff but it's protected.”

“Now's the time to drop whatever you've got, Pat. Make your house a fortress.”

“What? Why?” He looked at Virgil, confused. “What am I even warding against?”

“Astral projection. Psychic attack. Whatever it takes to keep them out of Logan's head.”

“Them who, Virge?” Patton splurted, exasperated.

Virgil smiled sympathetically at him. “Pat, I promise I’ll explain once we’re safe.”

Patton groaned in frustration but he turned to his desk, digging through the drawers. “Fine. Grab the dried sage off the mantel. Burn it in here. That'll give me a buffer to set things up.”

Virgil nodded and quickly set to work unwrapping one of the packages of dried herbs. He pulled out a small handful of sage, breaking it into pieces and dropping them into the small cast iron bowl that Patton had indicated. He lit the herb, gently blowing on it until it smoldered and smoke billowed out.

Once the sage was lit, he turned to watch Patton work, occasionally sneaking glances at Logan to make sure he was still awake. Virgil watched silently as Patton kneeled next to the bed and pulled out a large, metal box from under his bed. He didn't miss the sad look that fell over Patton's face as Logan mumbled into the sheets of the bed as Patton moved around him. Virgil smiled sadly as Patton reluctantly tore his gaze from Logan to flip open the box. Recovering his focus, Patton dug through the box of charms, pulling some out of the box and shoving it back under the bed.  He started to wander the edge of the room, hanging charms as he went and muttering incantations under his breath.

Patton barely had the last incantation out of his mouth as he turned to Virgil with a deathly glare on his face. “Explain. Now.”

Virgil shrunk back. He knew Patton wasn't angry at him. He was only upset at Logan’s current condition, but Patton had a way of reducing him to feeling like a petulant child. “Almost, Pat. I have another favor to ask.”

Virgil flinched as Patton continued to glare at him.

“Is there a way to get Logan to sleep without dreaming?”

“What?” Patton’s anger faded to a confused look.

“You heard me right, Pat. I want to keep him from dreaming tonight. I promise this is the last thing I'll ask of you before I explain what's going on.” Virgil glanced over at Logan, struggling to stay awake on the bed. It worried him that Logan hadn't even looked up at them as they talked about him. “Please, let's get him to sleep and I'll tell you everything.”

Patton stared at Virgil, frustrated, but his expression softened as he looked over at Logan. Patton sighed. “Fine. Yes, I can do that. Grab the valerian root off the shelf behind you and bring it here. Patton pulled out a small mortar and pestle out from his desk drawer. Virgil watched over his shoulder as Patton ground up the valerian root and mixed with a variety of other herbs and oils. Virgil thought he saw lavender and maybe rose petals but the rest of the herbs were a mystery to him. A sweet floral scent drifted up from the table as he watched Patton continue working diligently until the mixture formed a fine paste.

“That smells good." Virgil commented offhandedly.

“Yeah, it doesn't taste great though, so hopefully he can keep it down.” Patton moved to sit on the bed next to Logan. “Alright, Lo, you're going to have to sit up.”

Logan nodded. Virgil moved over to the bed, helping him up to a sitting position. He leaned into Virgil’s chest to stay upright.

Patton held his fingers on Logan’s neck, checking his pulse. Seemingly satisfied, he held a hand to his briefly to Logan’s forehead, looking him right in the eyes, which were partially glazed over.

“Lo, focus on me. ‘Kay, kiddo?”

Logan nodded tiredly, turning his head in Patton’s direction.

“Good, kiddo. I'm going to put a spoonful of this in your mouth and you’re going to hold it under your tongue.” He waited for Logan to nod before continuing. “It's going to taste really bad but you have to keep it in your mouth. It's going to help you sleep. Once it's under your tongue, count to sixty and then swallow it, okay?”

Logan nodded. Patton took a spoonful of the mixture and held it out to him. Logan obediently put it in his mouth. Immediately, he looked like he might gag.

“Don't spit it out.” Patton warned.

Logan nodded back, reluctantly.

“Good job, Lo. Keep it under your tongue and count to sixty.” He smiled encouragingly.

Logan’s face scrunched as he counted. The minute seemed to last an eternity but eventually Patton nodded to indicate he can swallow. Patton was waiting with a glass of water when he was finished and Logan downed the glass in one go, aching to get the taste out of his mouth.

“You did good, kiddo. Now, we're going to lay you down. It should kick in soon. Okay?”

Logan nodded tiredly as Virgil gently laid him back on the pillow. Patton pulled the blanket up around him and tucked him in tightly. His eyes dropped shut and a few minutes later, they could hear a gentle breathing as Logan finally slept.

“He's okay. Right, Pat?” Virgil asked, distracted. “He wasn't this disoriented when he woke up earlier. I know he hasn't been sleeping but—”

“You’re stalling, kiddo.” Patton interrupted impatiently, but he decided to set Virgil’s anxiety at ease anyway. “He's okay. His breathing and his pulse are strong and steady and he doesn't have a fever. I think he's just exhausted, Virgil.”

Virgil frowned, watching the rise and fall of Logan’s chest.

Patton turned to him, crossing his arms. “Time to explain, Virgil.”

“Okay, Pat. Come over here. I'll tell you what I know.”

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname@ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @optimistic-violinist @somehow-i-got-an-account @croftersphoenix @dwbh888

[dollfaceeeeee]

I can’t sleep, sadly, so here goes nothing.

Winchester✨

“This isn’t fair, you know.”

The bar was quiet, quieter than any bar I’d ever been to, and it made me edgy and unfocused as I watched Sam sail the polished purple 4 ball into the far right hole.

Dean watched quietly from his stool to the side of the pool table, sipping on a beer and scanning the bar apprehensively over my shoulders.

Sam grinned in a proud, warm way as he straightened himself back up into his full, shockingly giant size, his flannel falling back into place on his iron chest.

“You know, I can teach you how to play, Emily. It’s a lot simpler than anything we’re used to.”

Pressing my lips tightly together, I make sure to flash him my darkest glare before I go to work on pocketing my own balls; stuck with the stripes this time, jeering at me from the fuzzy green table in front of me.

Yet again, I hit the ball too hard and it flies right back across the table, barely missing the hole, and I groan angrily before pushing back from the table.

Inwardly, I blame Dean and his irritating suggestion for a night out at the bar, but I know exactly why we’re here, and what we’re really waiting for.

Dean and Sam Winchester, my two best friends since I was four years old, have certain jobs that not everyone would approve of, or think logically about.

I’ve known about demons all my life; hell, I don’t think there’s ever been a time where I didn’t sleep with a salt ring around my bed, or a blade shifting comfortably under my pillow at night.

Most people would blame my parents for bad parenting, or simply arrest them for child endangerment, but I’ve never felt endangered or unsafe in my home, not even for a second.

Well, maybe I did, that one time I was eight, and a demon got into my home, but that’s not important.

There’s not a day goes by I regret my upbringing, or the only friends I’ve kept close to me since leaving my home at the startling age of 17 so many years ago.

Some days, it feels just like yesterday.

Dean watches us quietly from his stool, shooting me warm, familiar smiles that make my stomach sail with butterflies.

Also, never a day I regret being romantically involved with the hottest man in fucking existence.

“Aha! You missed, again.”

“Don’t remind me,” I state coldly, wrapping my hands around the pool cue as he goes to work again on the table, left with only two more balls to send into the pockets, one of them being the familiar 8 ball.

I have a grand total of six balls left.

Sighing, I toss a look over my shoulder, and my entire body tenses as I watch a rather large group of men stroll in.

The one in front, the one me and the boys have been tracking for over 200 miles, strides in to the bar with an aura of pure menace surrounding him, followed by six other men that look like they’ve just come from a rather awful business meeting.

My eyes drift to the clock across the room, the one hanging on the wall, and I’m reminded of how late it is, and how absolutely no one has any type of meetings this late.

I feel a hand wrap around my waist, and it makes me flinch, before I smell the familiar scent of Dean that wafts off the folds of his old brown leather coat.

“It’s just me,” he breathes, his fingers trailing lightly across my abdomen in a gentle, reassuring way, “but don’t be afraid. Sam and I will keep you safe. You know that. I need you to move to the other side of the table, and get back to the game, sweetheart.”

A shiver ripples down the length of my spine as I feel him press a light kiss to the side of my neck, before he tugs me gently along with him, toward where Sam is standing apprehensively along the side of the table.

His blue eyes study my face carefully before Dean lets me go, leaving me standing directly to Sam’s left as Dean takes my other side; like a warm, solidly packed, Winchester sandwich.

It was normal, for them, to always put on protective mode when it came to me being on hunts with them, not that I haven’t been for a while now, but it took a lot of patience and control for Dean to allow me to come on this one.

I’m not a baby, by no means, and I know how to take care of myself, but I don’t think the Winchesters will ever stop treating me like I’m a delicate piece of glass that will shatter under pressure.

I think, also, that the fact that I’m 8 weeks pregnant puts me slightly on edge, as well, but the only person that knows that is me.

I can see the instant regret circling in Dean’s eyes as he monitors the game closely, his piercing green eyes drifting to and from Sam’s menacing form leaning gracefully across the pool table, his hands jabbing the white ball across the table with ease.

I can hear the group before I can see them, moving toward us, their shoes clicking across the old wood floors of the bar, and I can feel my breath start to become labored before I catch the sharp eye of Sam, full of concern that lingers around him, like an aura he can’t control.

I’m more than accustomed to the sharp eye of Sam Winchester, that’s for sure.

“I see you have a good eye for bar games,” a cool, collected voice comments, and my eyes lift to the cold eyes of Patrick Fitz, or as I like to call his demon friend, Barnabus.

It feels almost as if he can see right through us, but I can spy Sam continue on with his game as if Patrick Fitz is just a normal college guy at a bar, drunk beyond belief, asking us about the game.

Not a demon older than time ready to rip our throats out at the slightest hint of our agenda.

His friends move in a humming rhythm to the stools that sit directly behind the three of us, and I hear them scrape as they all move to take their seats, leaving us caged in between him and his six other demon friends.

Luckily, we’d been prepared for this, or I’d feel about as uncomfortable as a buck during hunting season.

“Honestly, I’ve been trying to teach her to play for the last hour, but she doesn’t seem to get it. If you want, you’re welcome to join our next game. Her boyfriend over there might be a better teacher than I am.”

Sam talks as smoothly as if he’s talking to an old friend, and it’s too shocking to hear, but I try my best to stay composed under the scrutiny of Patrick Fitz.

I know he’s looking at me, almost as well as I know what day of the year it is, or what Dean’s favorite cheeseburger topping is.

It’s bacon, obviously.

“It could be the stress from the baby. It’s unnatural, at her age, to not feel some sort of discomfort from something so new, and terrifying. But of course, a fresh game of pool sounds fantastic, thank you kindly.”

A fresh wave of fear overcomes me, more jarring and intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I catch the sharp eye of not one but two pairs of Winchester eyes, each of them both furious and beyond concerned before they go back to their routines.

Dean moves closer to my side, his protective stance seeming even more on edge than normal, his hand going protectively to brush against my belly before he leans in near my ear.

“You’re pregnant, and you didn’t think to, I don’t know, tell me?”

I know he’s talking straight through his teeth, but I feel startlingly calm, being so close to him, feeling his fingers trace circles against my flat abdomen through the folds of my crimson tshirt.

“Perhaps I’ve overstepped,” Patrick says, eyeing me intensely from the other side of the table, “it’s just that, I thought it was as obvious to me as it was to you. I have a sight for these sort of things, you must know, and I did not mean to cause any sort of discomfort or unease. She really could become ill, under that sort of pressure.”

The words ring with a hint of a warning, and I feel Dean’s hand stop their trail of comfort on me before he leans slightly away from me, probably reminding himself to keep it cool.

Sam clears his throat, making Dean drop his hold on me, but he doesn’t move away, not even an inch, as Sam hands the only remaining pool stick to Patrick.

“No worries. It’s just a surprise, that’s all. My brother doesn’t do very well with surprises.”

“Ah,” Patrick says, nodding, his eyes never leaving my face as he takes the pool stick from Sam, “alright, I understand. Pardon my manners, I do not wish to overstep, but is there any chance I could be on a team, here, with the lady? I might be able to teach her a thing or two. I’m a good player, myself.”

“No,” Dean growled, the word coming out with a kind of venom I’ve never heard drip out from his mouth, hinting with it his own kind of threat that everyone seemed to notice.

“It’s..it’s fine, of course I’ll go on a team with you. Not a problem.”

As I attempt to move away, Dean’s hand latches onto my arm, tugging me back against his side, holding me there rather tightly, placing himself between me and any sort of danger that surrounds us.

Sam shoots us a shocked look, trying his best to remind us of what will happen if we don’t do what Patrick Fitz says, or we don’t continue with the plan, but it doesn’t seem to get through to Dean.

Everything he was trained for, everything he was built for, seems to rule out this entire plan; the plan to take out Barnabus, the plan to stop him from killing hunters.

“D-Dean,” Sam states, “Dean, don’t do this.”

I can hear the stools scrape across the floor behind me as the six demons rise to their feet, and I watch as Dean stretches out his arms on either side of me, clenching the side of the pool table, keeping me locked in against his iron body.

“I can’t help but feel like our little game of pool ended before it could even start, Dean Winchester.”

His words ring with warning, with bile, and I watch as Sam moves closer to us, eyeing the bodies surrounding us.

“This isn’t part of the plan,” Sam says sharply, “everything is in the car, Dean.”

“I want you to know, I truly enjoyed meeting you all. Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, and you..Emily Corning. I’ll do my best not to eat you after I kill you, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to help myself. There’s something so...soft about your delicate, porcelain skin.”

Dean’s entire body tenses, flinching harshly under the words, and I know he’s made up his mind before he can even think clearly.

I know he’s got the demon blade tucked neatly into his right boot, and the pistol hiding plainly in the loop of his belt, and the knife that sits in the holster that’s wrapped around my jeans.

I know Sam has weapons, not many but some, more than enough for seven men, and I know that Dean has already let the plan go to hell.

I also know that he loves me, and Sam, more than anything in the entire world.

“You know what, buddy?”

“What’s that,” Patrick Fitz says, his teeth flashing under the warm rays of the overhead lights.

Dean slides his hand down the side of my jeans, into the holster on my leg, before pulling out the knife we both know is there; a buck knife my father gave me so many years ago.

“You can go to hell.”

[hedwigstalons]

The Tracy Prize - part 6

Scott took it upon himself to give Claire a tour of the facilities.  The dislike she radiated towards Virgil made it clear that the two ought to be kept separate.  Brains had also received a killer glare for his part in the deception and was currently hiding away, using the excuse that he needed to check over the materials brought in on the supply run.

 Claire followed Scott around the complex mutely. She soon began to understand why very little had been visible from the air.  The majority of the site was located underground.  The buttons in the elevators indicated several subterranean levels.  Most required biometric authentication to use and were clearly out of bounds to her. The level of security seemed at odds with the picture Scott was trying to paint of a private family home where they could escape the pressures of Tracy Industries while still indulging in their private passions.

 The whole set-up seemed bizarre.  She couldn’t understand why four brothers and an honorary sister lived on a remote island with their grandmother and Brains.  The absence of the fifth brother, John, was also puzzling.  She knew he was highly accomplished with technology and Claire couldn’t understand why he alone had decided to live elsewhere.  He clearly had the skills to work remotely.  It didn’t fit with the close knit family unit Scott was describing.

The facilities and laboratories she was shown were every scientists’ dream.  Brains had clearly understated the level of technology at his disposal.  This was no hobby set up but Scott had made it clear that the work conducted on-site was independent of their corporate enterprises.  It was another element of the conundrum that was the Tracy family, minus John, and their island paradise home.

 Scott was doing his best to maintain the flow of conversation but it was difficult when the conversation was effectively a monologue from him punctuated by the occasional monosyllabic answer to a direct question.  The Tracy charm was turned up to maximum and the dimples were fully deployed but the woman keeping step at his side seemed impervious to his attempts at friendship. He knew though that unless Claire could be brought on side they would stand no chance of sharing her research.

 He was beginning to think that the whole attempt was futile and misguided.  Perhaps Kayo was right and she was already working for someone else; the thought of who that someone might be made his blood run cold.  He would never forgive himself if he had put his family in danger in the pursuit of a faster response time.  If that was the case then the safest thing would be to get her off the island and take her home.  

 The relief in Claire’s voice when he told her he would arrange a flight home for the next day was immediate.   The tension she was carrying in her body released and she furnished him with a genuine smile of gratitude.  

 xoxoxox

 That evening Claire allowed herself to relax and enjoy the hospitality of the Tracy family.  If you could overlook the fact that they had lured her to the island under false pretences then they were really quite nice.  Kayo was still keeping her under close scrutiny but was refraining from outright hostility.  Claire suspected that either Scott or Mrs Tracy had had words.

 As they retreated to the lounge after dinner she took the opportunity to observe their interactions.  Scott was clearly head of the family.  The way he questioned Alan on his school work and then sent him off to bed was more paternal than fraternal.  Claire was uncomfortably reminded of her research into Jeff Tracy and the revelation that this family had been without parents for many years.

 Looking around she realised that Virgil was missing. She spied him out on the balcony, leaning on the rail.  He was evidently still keeping out of her way.  Scott had made it clear during the tour that Virgil had only contacted her on his instruction.  She felt ashamed at her over reaction to a couple of emails.  Wanting to make amends before heading home she wandered out and joined him in his contemplation of the moonlit ocean.

 “I’m sorry.”  It wasn’t much but it was a start.  

 Whatever Virgil had been expecting it wasn’t this. He sensed that she had more to say though and gave her the space and time to continue.

 “I’ve not been particularly fair to you.  I let my own prejudices get the better of me and I shouldn’t have.  I’ve not even properly thanked you for your help in the quad that day.  You didn’t have to help me and you certainly didn’t have to pay for the damage.  If you had just walked on I would have been stuck with a busted tablet and no presentation.”

 He shrugged.  

 “It’s John you should be thanking.  There wasn’t much I could do.”

 “Please can you pass my thanks on to him too.”  The mention of absent brother still gave her the creeps.  Yes, his skills had saved the day but they were responsible for a large part of her mistrust.

 The pair returned to the lounge, the uneasy tension lifted.

 xoxoxox

 Waking up in near total darkness Claire was disorientated. The room was unfamiliar and it took her a moment to realise she was in one of the Tracy’s guest suites.

 She tapped the clock on the unit beside the bed, illuminating the screen.

 3 am.

 She wondered what had woken her.  She thought she could hear running footsteps retreating into the distance but that didn’t make sense at this time of night.  It must have just been the regular noises of an unfamiliar house.  

 Silence returned.

 She settled back down and was soon asleep again.

 She didn’t hear the hurried commands issued from the lounge at the other end of the building.  Didn’t hear the activation of the concealed launch systems.  Didn’t hear the rumble of Thunderbird 2 taking off, the noise deadened by her soundproofed windows.  

 She didn’t realise anything had changed until she entered the kitchen in search of breakfast the next morning.  The atmosphere throughout the house was charged and tense.  Virgil and Gordon were absent, apparently called away on urgent business.

 It was Kayo that broke the news.  With two residents missing, and Scott shut away in an office deal with things from home, they couldn’t spare a pilot.  She would be stuck on the island until the missing siblings returned, whenever that might be.

[transdarkwingduck]

The Perplexing But Perfectly Peaceful Case of Preening

“Ohhhh. Oh okay, right, sorry,” Drake paused, as if wracking his brain searching for a way to explain his utter lack of experience in the etiquette behind a simple gesture of affection and social deprivation without delving into the longwinded explanation of his entire life story. 

Word Count: 1439 Pairing: Darkwing Duck | Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack (Ducktales 2017) Requests: Open Read it on AO3 here

Drake barely had the energy to pry the costume from his exhausted frame. He untied the mask and pulled the hat free, discarding them both in the corner of his cramped apartment bedroom, trusting them not to get rumpled. The cape unclipped and he stripped of the rest of his heroic ensemble. The costume was lazily draped on the top of his dresser and he tugged on a sleep shirt before collapsing onto the bed with a huff. His skin under his feathers felt all sweaty from the spur of activity that came with patrol, the cool sheets of his bed a nice relief. He was tired, a satisfied kind of just ran a marathon and the adrenaline’s rapidly fading type of tired, but god tired all the same. That was how most patrols or cases ended, utterly worn out and weary but the underlying bubbling excitement knowing what he’d been out doing never faded.

Drake’s muscles ached from the pursuit of that purse thief, then dealing with the arson attempt (he managed to stamp out the budding flames while Launchpad dispatched the idiot with a Molotov cocktail and his cape only caught on fire a teensy bit), not to mention foiling the armed robbery and a few other petty crimes scattered throughout the evening. It had been a busy night to say the least. Jeez, St. Canard has so much crime.

The door to his bedroom creaked open, dim light filtering into the otherwise dark room and he smiled in spite of his exhaustion. The door clicked shut, and he heard the window he came through slide closed paired with lumbering footsteps. A familiar presence joined him on the bed, the mattress sinking against the weight when his boyfriend tossed himself on it in a similar fashion to Drake’s entrance.

“You forgot to close the window, DW,” Launchpad mumbled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He snorted and leaned into the touch, “Oops, I knew you’d get it for me.” 

Darkwing Duck gets to sneak in through the window, while his reliable compatriot Launchpad McQuack entered the apartment through regular means. They were still adjusting to the new routine that came with being a hero. Along with the changes that came with dating one. Until they could establish a removed head of operations outside of Drake’s confining one-bedroom apartment, he had been keeping his eye on a seemingly abandoned space in one of the Audubon Bay Bridge spires, they’d been reduced to infiltrating his home through various means undetected. Once there was an incident in which his landlord hired a pressure-washing company to clean the building’s exterior and he’d been forced to get in through the vents. Yeesh, he could feel all the dust and spiderwebs just thinking about it. What made things a tad easier was Launchpad spending more time in Drake’s apartment with him than at his crummy garage bachelor pad. He had a dedicated spot in the closet now and everything. Which was kind of terrifying in the best way possible.

Drake was brought out of his sleepy musings when Launchpad curled up closer, sliding an arm around him. His boyfriend had clearly already removed his leather aviator jacket and gotten comfortable. 

“Nice job tonight,” Launchpad commended, sounding as tired as Drake felt. 

“You too, especially with that miserable Molotov wielding miscreant, he went down like a sack of bricks,” Drake replied, taking great pleasure in the way Launchpad’s beak curled into a smile at the praise and how he chuckled at the cheesy alliteration. He rested his head on Launchpad’s chest, looking up at him and shifting to meet his boyfriend’s beak in a gentle but brief kiss.

His hand moved to cup Launchpad’s face as he pulled away after a moment or two, snuggling closer against him, content to use LP as a pillow. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

“You look beat,” Launchpad lightheartedly teased, his faintly flushed cheeks barely visible in the dim lighting.

Drake pretended to look affronted, his eyes crinkling as he tried to keep from smiling, “Hey! Its been a long night.” Launchpad had a point though, his feathers were all ruffled with a hint of soot in a few places thanks to the arsonist, not to mention he’d have a few bruises in the morning.

Launchpad merely smiled, shaking his head with fondness and leaned forward brushing against the feathers on Drake’s neck.

He stilled, his eyebrows raising in confusion, but he didn’t pull away. “What are you doing?” Drake asked.

Launchpad faltered, looking embarrassed as his face reddened and he leaned back to study Drake’s face, “I uh… I dunno your feathers looked kinda dirty. I just thought… y’know... Is that okay?” He fumbled over his words, suddenly unsure of himself.

The puzzled look didn’t leave Drake’s face until Launchpad coughed and awkwardly mumbled something along the lines of ‘…figured you could use some preening…’ only then did it click.

Preening wasn’t something Drake was particularly accustomed to. At least by someone else. He kept his own feathers neat, thank you very much. Even before he became an adult and moved out, his familial relationships were distant and strained. He’d never been truly close enough to anyone warrant such a gesture of care neither romantic nor platonic. He was a bit of loner, cough, understatement of the century, cough. He had acquaintances, and it wasn’t that he drove away the people around him, he merely didn’t seek out any sort of companionship. After all, the man he’d modeled his life after hadn’t needed anyone, so why should he? But that was before he’d met Launchpad and become the hero he so idolized all his life. So now he was faced with a heartfelt and harmless offer of something he’d never experienced… and felt hopelessly out of his element.

He blinked rapidly, bringing himself out of his internal over-analyzation. “Ohhhh. Oh okay, right, sorry.” Drake paused, as if wracking his brain searching for a way to explain his utter lack of experience in the etiquette behind a simple gesture of affection and social deprivation without delving into the longwinded explanation of his entire life story.

“Sorry, DW, I should’ve asked first,” Launchpad apologized, likely having undergone his own insecure thought process and incorrectly believed he brashly crossed some important boundary in their relationship Drake wasn’t ready for. 

Drake shook his head vehemently, “No no, you’re fine, LP. It’s totally okay, just was a bit confused is all… My feathers are kinda messed up.”

Launchpad squinted at him as if closely examining for any hidden tell that things weren’t okay and that he’d made a mistake. At his encouraging nod, Launchpad relaxed, ceasing the scrutiny and gave Drake a hesitant but genuine smile. “Did you want me to preen you? I mean, you said you were tired is all… I figured you wouldn’t mind the help. If you don’t care for that sort of thing I won’t, just thought I should offer,” He explained.

Drake bit the inside of his beak, mulling it over. He wasn’t sure why some insignificant grooming action that every duck he ever met did carried so much weight to him. Maybe it was due to the fact he was a man of routine, and a private person by nature. Launchpad always managed to subvert his expectations and blow past his preconceived notions by merely being his vibrant, kind, and charming self. This was just another reservation he had that his boyfriend managed to disarm and leave him reeling without even realizing it, in a way that made him feel so much more at ease once he found his footing. Just another reason why he treasured their bond so much.

His slightly uncertain expression became one of warmth and affection, “…Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that, LP.” Launchpad visibly brightened and grinned at the go-ahead, nuzzling up against Drake, who took comfort in the warm presence next to him. He felt Launchpad’s bill against his shoulder, gently nibbling at the base of his feathers there, preening him with utmost care.

A contented sigh escaped Drake at the soothing gesture as he relaxed against his boyfriend’s side, more than pleased to let Launchpad smooth down his ruffled feathers. He was starting to understand why people made an effort to preen their loved ones, after all it certainly felt enjoyable in a tranquil sort of way. Drake’s eyelids drooped, still exhausted from their nightly heroic excursions and put at ease by Launchpad’s reassuring stroking of his feathers. The edges of his beak curled into a sleepy smile. Definitely an adjustment I can get used to.

[subjectsix]

Hitman 2 and 3 theories

OKAY so I’ve been reading about Hitman 2/3 theories and thinking on the ending of the Haven level a lot and decided to make a post about it because analyzing stuff is fun dkfjghdjkfhg

Spoilers for the end of Hitman 2/the Haven level below the cut! (y’all its so much I’m sorry KJLDFHGKJFHG its Hitman Lore And Meta Time)

FIRST lemme just say. Y’all I’m very aware I’m a big Lucas Grey fan dkjgfhkdjhg BUT I did my best to make sure that wasn’t getting into my analyzation too much, I like being as objective/unbiased as possible bc the Hitman storyline is wonderful (and if Lucas is the villain oooo Drama™)

anyway this is gonna be a long ramble so here’s the TL;DR

Big point: I don’t think we can accurately piece together any sort of an answer currently, and IO wants us to doubt everyone and everything for the “hook” into the next game, and they did a lovely job at it! Thank you IO <3

My three running theories with the info we have:

None of the main four are working with the constant, and he is manipulating them all to try and turn them on each other, making them doubt each other to cause dissension among them (see: him telling Diana about the hit on her parents, the concept that he’s making Lucas out to be a traitor) which could result in Lucas’ death (or not)

Lucas is being “held hostage” in a way by the constant-- Edwards has him by some threat or pressure point credible enough to make Lucas work for him

The least likely in my opinion due to evidence and Lucas’ character, but still possible maybe: Lucas made a deal with the constant somehow (when he would’ve found the time, I don’t know) because he’s got it in his head that he and 47 should be the providence leaders-- somewhere along the way he got so obsessed/focused on this all he got his view skewed and genuinely thinks he’s doing a good and helpful thing

So what prompted me was this specific comment on a hitman subreddit theory thread:

So to me, the idea that Lucas has been a traitor from the start doesn’t seem to add up. If you look at everything we've seen from IO about him, it shows that Lucas is on a path of vengeance-- suddenly allowing The Constant off the hook seems like a massive shift in character, especially considering the comic and what we've seen of Lucas and 47 as kids (more on this in a bit)

So the only leap you can make after that to blame Lucas is the second comment on that reddit response, but that seems like such a big cheesy sci-fi stretch to me. If you look at Lucas and 47 knowing they’re clones, you can clearly see the resemblance. They aren’t just brothers, they’re like. They’re near exactly the same in appearance (save for the fact that 47’s in much better shape and like. Bald DFHFDJHG). You could argue that Lucas had his face changed to appear to be a clone, but you have to consider that they both have the hand scars from the pact they made as children, the comic confirms Lucas/6’s existence, Lucas has a lot of Ort-Meyer knowledge others don’t have, and 47 is remembering Lucas

Any leap past that gets wackier, like...

- Maybe 47 has DOUBLE fake memories from his time in the institute and this has been planned from the beginning? Doesn’t seem satisfying nor IO’s style, plus it seems rather out of character for 47.

- Ether antidote somehow gave him fake memories? Also nah, seems just too out there/odd/improbable 

So from here, the only thing that I can personally add up and understand in the vein of Lucas being a traitor is the concept of Lucas maybe having a bent concept of like... morality? I can see him maybe getting a bit too over the edge, too bent and obsessed on Providence and taking them down, and somehow talking himself into thinking he and 47 need to be in control of Providence because they’re the only ones that can make things “right”. From what I’ve seen, he hasn’t exhibited behavior that tells me that in full, but that makes much more sense than him being A Complete Snake™ because if he was a traitor it would defo be in the “he fully thinks he’s doing the right and good thing for 47”

ANYWAY consider this evidence in game:

- Lucas being shown repeatedly to go to great lengths to avoid collateral damage/citizens getting hurt or killed (you can overhear this being talked about on Hawke’s Bay, Columbia (and from Lucas himself in Rico’s office), and I think Colorado, but I’m not sure. I’m sure there’s other locations as well).

- Lucas' genuine concern for Olivia to the point that he gives her her whole own security detail (seen on Colorado, thank u @olliemander for showing me that!!!), as well as the fact that he met her when she was 7 (can somebody say father figure), and she's the only person in the whole militia to have both seen him and know his real name, not even Sean Rose knows his name and those that have seen him have all been killed (Viktor, the Providence member in the cutscene after Sapienza) 

- His seemingly genuine reaction to realizing he killed Diana's parents (seen in the cutscene before Sgáil)

- His seemingly genuine concern over 47's wellbeing after the ether antidote (seen in the cutscene after Whittleton)

- His seemingly genuine reaction to/at the institute (the man is genuinely emotional over it all)

- The Constant's complete bafflement at Lucas' actions-- you can overhear this on Sgáil-- and I suppose you could argue that this is just fake so Edwards and Lucas can play the long con, but that seems unlikely to me

- also this is less of a piece of evidence but still interesting, Lucas’ man on the island that gets him the info on the poison chip and the Washington Sisters comes from a genuine NPC you can listen to, who calls Lucas to give him more info and tell him their debt from their old CICADA days is repaid and to just leave him alone now AKJDLFHGKJDFHG

I mean, yeah, it could all be things to mislead us, but I don’t think so-- his behavior lines up throughout the years of his life that we’ve been shown, and 47 isn’t one to blindly trust people.

This leaves the idea that Lucas has been working with Edwards from the start, but that too seems like a long stretch to me-- Lucas seems to hate what he and 47 had to go through (as seen in the comics and just his behavior we’ve seen), and he carries that weight (like he mentions in the cutscene before Sgáil, and in the Homecoming cutscene). He seems to really struggle with survivor’s guilt over his escape from the institute. Plus Lucas doing a double side switch seems a bit Much™ (but I totally could be wrong akdljfhgkjdgh)

Ultimately tho, here's the thing: I don’t think we can solve this puzzle yet, because IO wants us to wait for Hitman 3. What good is it if we bust it before the game comes out?

They did this with the end of the Sgáil mission-- it was a big ominous cliffhanger but then we just sorta scooted along (so they could keep building the story, it was well done IMO)

My most likely theory at the moment is the idea that Edwards is trying to turn 47, Lucas, Diana, and Olivia on each other because he realizes they’re a threat. Bc If I’m real, I currently don't think any of the core group are working with The Constant, which is terrifying, because it means the constant is way more powerful than we thought and way less helpless than we thought he was in his current position. (So that means the text/phone call/whatever Lucas got in the end cutscene was from Edwards posing as someone else like Olivia). Plus, if Diana gets into contact with 47, she’s going to tell him Edwards is gone. If for some reason 47 can’t contact her, he’s going to be suspicious and on high alert.

Edwards is a scheming, smart dude and I don’t doubt him being able to do that at all. He knows Diana and 47 are close and trust each other (“in his own special way, he cares about you”) and felt the need to mention to her that 47 and Lucas were behind her parents’ deaths-- that’s not just bonus information, he did it for a reason. This also puts his line of “Do you really want to do this to me?” to the Partners in reference to being under scrutiny and needing the poison chip under a SUPER terrifying and ominous light. What sort of power does this man wield?

I would personally love to see Lucas survive these games AKJHSFJGH but I can see the story leading to 47 have to make a call to shoot Lucas (thinking he’s a traitor), playing hard against the emotions of it all, especially with the reveal that this was all a set up by The Constant, making 47 go after him with a vengeance. (also not to be angsty™ but can you imagine Lucas and 47 talking after 47’s shot him? Oof ouchy my heart) 

Another possibility I can see is like my friend Synth suggested-- Lucas wanting to go in violently and take it all out on The Constant, while 47 holds him back for tactics sake 

In terms of Lucas and Edwards working together, sans them planning it from the start, there really would’ve been no time for Lucas to talk to The Constant between his capture and the departure for the bank. I also can’t currently make sense of many reasons why Lucas would side with him and not tell 47 or Olivia

My final idea that plays into the idea of Lucas as a traitor is the idea that, somehow, The Constant is holding Lucas hostage in a way? That if by chance they got to speak to each other, The Constant lorded some threat over Lucas that was serious enough to him to agree to help him (like a threat against 47 or Olivia, etc). I’m not sure though, but the idea is interesting to me :Oc

aNYWAY big ol’ rant over! Here’s some pics of Lucas’ voice actor in Alice and Wonderland enjoy fdjgkhdfkjghkjfh

[lalunaunita]

Ladynoir July Day 21: Trusting

This is Runaway: Part 5

Read Runaway: Part 1 Read Runaway: Part 2 Read Runaway: Part 3 Read Runaway: Part 4

Adrien could have kicked himself for not putting two and two together sooner. He blamed it on the summer photoshoot schedule his dad and Nathalie had put together for him. His vacation from school had focused on two things: work and… well, being Chat Noir was work, too, a lot of the time. Any spare moment had been spent at the Cattery with Ladybug, or in related errands: picking up dinner for the two of them, finding a small dorm fridge so she could keep cold drinks, searching out a second-hand camp stove so she could cook a little.

The girl really was miraculous, he thought, remembering when she requested eggs and then managed to bake a delicious dessert for the two of them in her dutch oven, right there on an open flame. Adrien shook his head. Don’t get distracted. You’re angry, remember?

He paced his room, waiting for the sun to go down. There was hardly any traffic in the warehouse district Ladybug stayed in, but there was even less at night. They needed to talk seriously and he wouldn’t be surprised if he put her on the defensive. He was usually content to back down, seeing as how she was the tactician of the two in battle, but this was different. She was going back to her parents. He’d make sure of it. The moment the sun dropped below the horizon, Chat Noir leapt free of his narrow window and started the long trek across the city. His first clue about Ladybug’s identity had come a week ago, when Nathalie had taken a call for him from Marinette’s parents, looking for their daughter. Nathalie had spoken to them and later communicated the information to him, but something must have gotten lost in translation. He didn’t understand then that they’d been looking for their daughter for weeks, not hours.

It wasn’t until today, when Alya called in desperation, that he found out Marinette had run away from home. Alya started out calm and collected, but by the end of the call she was a sobbing mess of worry. She hadn’t bothered to try him earlier, she said, because he’d been working all summer and no one from school had seen him. It was a last ditch effort. No one could find a trace of Marinette. He could still see Alya’s fearful eyes on the phone screen. “I k-know you two aren’t all that close, b-but honestly, you could totally hide someone in your house. At least, Nino thinks so. You aren’t hiding her, are you?”

Adrien shook his head no, aghast. “I’d never do that to her parents - or you! I promise I would tell you if I knew where she was, Alya. I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of time, but I’ll try to help search, too. Keep me updated, okay?” The broken-hearted girl nodded curtly and cut off the call. Adrien had an odd moment of confusion as he pondered why Marinette’s disappearance felt so familiar. He sucked in a deep breath as the two halves of his life collided and coincidence became too improbable to ignore. “She’s Ladybug,” he said out loud to his empty bedroom. “What?” Plagg looked up from his tray of camembert on the sofa. “Marinette is Ladybug.” Adrien turned to his kwami and swiped both hands down his face with a sigh. Guilt hit hard as he realized the huge lie he had just told Alya. “The klutz? You’ve got to be kidding.” “Well, if I want confirmation, I suppose I could try to get a list of all the 16 year olds reported missing in Paris on the exact day she left. I was trying to respect her secret identity.” “So what does it matter? Ladybug asked you for help to run away. It’s what she wants. Knowing who she is doesn’t change anything.” “Yeah, it does, actually. I wish I’d thought harder about Ladybug having friends and family from the beginning.  It… totally makes sense now why she’s been holed up in that little room and hardly gone anywhere. Her family - her whole support network is amazing. Now she’s only got Chat Noir. It isn’t enough. I’m not enough. She needs to go back home.” Plagg harrumphed and muttered something about fragile human emotions. “Plagg, you haven’t seen the change in her. She’s still good in a fight, but… it’s like all the color’s washing out of her. I know what this is. I fought to go to school because of it. She can’t take being lonely like this for much longer. And it’s not right, what she’s doing to her parents.” Adrien stared through the floor as he thought. “So what are you gonna do? Drag her bodily from that little room?” Adrien’s green eyes grew hard as he looked at his kwami. “We’ll start with talking.”

Ladybug started when she glanced at her window and saw Chat Noir sitting on the sill. How long had he been there? The daylight had long since gone and his black costume nearly melted into the night as he watched her with green glowing cat’s eyes. “Geez, Chat, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She brought a hand dramatically to her chest. Ladybug was still wearing the “daywear” Tikki had concocted for her to keep her cool in the un-airconditioned warehouse - it fit like running shorts and a tank top, with enough ease to let her skin breathe, unlike what she now considered her “work suit”. Chat Noir was silent for another moment and she uneasily tried to gauge his expression. Then his face blossomed into a smile and she wondered if she had imagined the serious look in the half-dark. “Sorry about that,” he apologized, stepping into the room. “How was your day?” “Uneventful - after we took down that akuma, of course.” Ladybug smiled again, but still got the same weird vibe off of Chat when he was slow to smile back. “What’s up with my favorite Kitty?” Even that comment got no response as he stepped closer, coming into her space until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Ladybug fought the urge to step back. “Not much. I had a tough phone call with a friend earlier. It reminded me how hard it can be when no one is looking out for you.” Ladybug’s expression turned sympathetic. “Is that… what it’s like for you?” She shook her head, “Scratch that, pretend I didn’t ask. I don’t want-” “-me to reveal my identity. I know, Ladybug. But to answer your question, which is personal, not specific, yes, it was like that for me for a long time. It’s not anymore, in part because I have you, and in part because I have really good friends. It makes up for the missing pieces.” He held her eyes for a beat, searching them, but Ladybug couldn’t take his intense scrutiny. Instead, she dropped into her seat at the table, where her half-finished dinner sat. She faced her plate and picked up her utensils, avoiding his gaze. Chat Noir sighed and took the other seat. “Ladybug, you don’t know anyone else anymore. Can’t you tell me who you are?” He’d never pressured her so directly. Chat Noir felt absolutely certain of his knowledge, but he’d feel better if it came from her lips, her own admission. “No.” She didn’t even look up, slipping a bite of salad in her mouth. “No?” “No, Chat. This situation is temporary.  I’m going to be Ladybug until I’m old and gray. In two years, it’ll be like this summer never happened. I can re-establish myself in Paris and no one can make me leave. We’ll be the same as before.” She still refused to look up, taking a sip of water to wash down her bite. Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck. She had no idea how much that hurt, her desire to erase all the moments this summer had brought them. Even when she had no one else in the world, she still couldn’t bring herself to trust him. “Good God, you’re stubborn. Look, Marinette, I know it’s you.” Ladybug choked on her sip of water, face turning red and eyes streaming as her throat made little noises trying to cough it back out. Startled, Chat Noir jumped up and whacked her hard on the back. She finally emitted a cough and drew in a ragged breath, then coughed in earnest, doubling over the edge of her seat.

Chat Noir continued to slap her back until she filled her lungs up enough to splutter, “That-doesn’t-help!” before leaning over to cough some more. Unsure, he stood over her until the fit finally eased and she leaned back in her chair with an exhausted groan. “Tikki, spots off,” she said, clearing her throat roughly. A small red creature tumbled away as she transformed. Chat Noir stared in wonder at the girl before him. Of course it was Marinette. How had he never seen it? The final proof brought it home to him in a way his supposition hadn’t. No longer hypothesis, but proven theory. “Chat Noir, so good to see you!” Tikki enthused, bobbing toward him. “Marinette, you didn’t offer him dinner,” she chided, looking down at her chosen with a frown. “I’m good,” Chat Noir replied, holding up one hand. “It’s great to meet you, Tikki, but we’re not done here. Marinette, the friend that called me today is Alya. She’s falling apart worrying about you.” Marinette turned wide, stricken eyes up to him. “Alya?” she repeated in a hollow tone. “I never- I just- wait, how do you even know her? Did she contact you through the Ladyblog or something?” “The answer’s a lot more obvious than that. Plagg-” “No, wait! Please, I don’t want to endanger you or your family, Chat.” “It’s too late, Marinette. I can’t walk away knowing what I know. Plagg, claws off.” As a swirl of green light traveled up from his feet to ruffle his hair, Adrien watched Marinette, who had closed her eyes. For a second, he thought she might keep them closed out of stubbornness, but then he saw the silent tears that tracked down her cheeks. She blinked and her beautiful blue bell eyes snapped fully open when she saw his face. “Adrien? I can’t believe this. All this time…” “Yeah, I know. I was literally under your nose.” Marinette barely managed a smile in response. “Marinette, your family’s going crazy searching for you. Our whole class is looking. If I weren’t busy working for my father this summer, I’d have known a lot sooner. It’s ridiculous for you to think you could disappear from your life and then waltz back in two years later like nothing happened. It was ridiculous of me to go along with it. You’re hurting people, Marinette. I know that’s not Ladybug, and I know that’s not you.” Marinette’s face fell, her cheeks burning with shame. She rubbed her elbow as she stood before Adrien, trying to squeeze back tears. Oh, Alya… knowing how badly she’d wounded her friend was almost worse than knowing what her parents were going through. Marinette was a tangle of embarrassment and sadness… but relief was mixed in, too. No more pretending, no more bravery as she lay alone in the warm, quiet nights. She met his eyes, nodding assent. “Chat - Adrien, please take me home.” Runaway: Epilogue follows on July 28th!

[janeykath318]

Broken Shackles 11

"Greetings, Sarek. Greetings, Captain Pike, Doctor McCoy. Welcome, James Tiberius Kirk," said a particularly regal Vulcan with dark red robes and beady black eyes. 

"I am Sulak and this is T'Pau" (a equally regal woman bowed slightly) "I trust the Ambassador has made your stay on Vulcan pleasant?" "Yes, he has," confirmed Pike. "Very hospitable. Thank you for allowing Jim to stay here. It's clearly been good for him." Jim felt their eyes on him and didn't know where to look. 

"It is good to see your health improving, James, but it is very concerning to discover slavery within our allies. We intend to have very serious discussions with Federation officials about this issue." Jim managed to collect himself to say "I'm grateful, Elder Sulak. My stay here has been very conducive to recovery. I hope my testimony can help to bring about change in the Federation, because I was just one of thousands of illegally purchased slaves by species that claim to be against it, yet frequently support the Orion Syndicate." "Indeed. It was most disconcerting to discover that certain species chose to express their gratitude by offering a human as a gift," spoke T'Pau, looking at Pike intensely. Jim noticed the Captain looked somewhat uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "He was kind of being a cheapskate, honestly," Jim admitted. "He couldn't get any value for me, since my master Girdon had pretty much worked me to a skeleton." Bones agreed. "You can say that again," he muttered, looking at Jim with a frown. "Had you been with that master long?" asked Sulak, with a Vulcan eyebrow raise that boggled Jim's mind. "Three years, sir," Jim replied. "Before that, I was in an Orion household for seven."

He didn't have to say anymore about what THAT had been like. The Vulcans looked even more sober and presently indicated they should sit down and commenced the meeting. It was long, dull, and Jim spent most of it answering questions between trying not to doze off. He was glad they were pressing Pike and inwardly rejoiced to see the captain concede to logic. He told the Vulcans it was out of his hands and their stance to not sanction a planned agreement with Orion that looked beneficial on the surface (more trade and options to put more Starfleet outposts on the planet) but also would end up profiting rich lords with ties to the Syndicate, would speak quite loudly to the Admiralty. "The Tellarites are already showing signs of being very unhappy with the agreement and when two of the founding members of the Federation stand in opposition to this, that will sober them up a bit." Pike finished. "It is alarming that the testimony of those whom have already been rescued from slavery by Starfleet vessels has not already moved them to take action," said T'Pau. She had a severe, but majestic dignity about her that made Jim convinced he was in the presence of royalty. But did Vulcan's have royalty? He filed that away to ask Spock about later. He didn't do much more talking that day. Jim just sat and listened as the Elders questioned Pike and McCoy about Starfleet happenings and what they thought would be the best way to handle Jim's case. At last they all agreed that it would be best for Jim to stay on Vulcan and continue his recovery and that he could testify from the safety of Sarek's home if Starfleet asked for his story. Jim and Bones were glad to finally leave the solemn chambers and exit into the cool Vulcan night.

"Well, they can sure talk the hind leg off a donkey when they want to," the doctor said under his breath. "While saying the same thing twenty different ways," Jim thought, with amusement.

As they sped back to the house in the hovercar, he gaped at the stars twinkling in the night sky. Somehow, they seemed much more friendly than the stars he'd seen from Orion, even though many of them were the same he'd stayed up late with his friends Gaila and Mona when they had a rare free day or the master and mistress were away. He rather missed Gaila and her unbreakable spirit that was as vibrant as her red hair. She'd been a great comfort to Jim in those days and he hoped wherever she was, she'd found freedom, too. She'd been sold abruptly in the middle of Jim's fifth year, evidently having done something to anger the master. He'd barely had a chance to say good-bye before she was taken away by some ugly giant lizard/toad-like creature and his minions. "You're quiet tonight, Jim," observed Bones. "You okay after all that grilling?" "Sure, Bones," he sighed. "I'm just thinking about my old friend from Orion and wondering where she is now. I lost touch five years ago and I hope she's been able to get free from the pleasure slave industry. It's a nasty world, though." He held up his wrist, where his ID was tattooed clearly on the inside. Bones shook his head sadly. "Man, Jim. Your stepfather was a complete sicko to sell you like that. If George could've risen up and throttled him, I bet he would've." "Don't think I haven't imagined doing it myself," Jim admitted. "But someone beat me to it apparently and he's been dead for years." They climbed out of the car as it stopped in front of the ambassador’s house, which Jim viewed as home now. Spock and Amanda were busy setting the table for supper and Jim's spirits rose at the smell of food (and the sight of Spock, if he was being honest.) He devoured the bean and rice dish with surprising zest. Vulcan dishes had an incredible flavor and spice to them that more than made up for the lack of meat. Bones made sure he took his supplements--by hypo unfortunately-- "How was your experience with the Elders, James?" Spock asked him as he helped her wash up afterwards. He insisted on being allowed to do odd jobs now that he was on the mend. He may not be a slave anymore, but Jim didn't want to be a total bum while he was at their house. "Very interesting, Spock," he said, carefully drying an elaborately glazed bowl. "They're so old and wise, I felt like a mere infant compared to them. They're going to put pressure on The Federation to clean up their act, so I'm glad I went. T'Pau was giving me these searching looks like I was under trial or something." "Vulcan lifespans are twice that of humans, so yes, you would be merely a child in their eyes," Spock informed him, brown eyes holding a  touch of mirth. "T'Pau is an important member of our clan and she was likely gauging your intentions and honesty. She has not met you before and wanted to be certain you were trustworthy." Jim nodded, setting the bowl down and picking up a plate. "That's understandable. A lot of slaves learned to do some shady things to survive and it's hard to break the habit when they get free. They don't trust people anymore." "But you are different, James," Spock observed. "Your character clearly outlasted your captivity. I do believe that T'Pau was satisfied with what she saw." "I hope so," Jim shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "because I've got so much more to study before the test and I wouldn't want to get kicked off another planet now, would I?" "No, you certainly wouldn't," she agreed. "Speaking of which, I will help you with the next group of equations if you are amenable." Jim was VERY amenable to that suggestion as Spock was fabulous at explaining math concepts and he  discovered he enjoyed learning by logic better than he could have ever imagined.

[magnetic-force-of-a-may]

#IStandWithTaylor - A Defense of Taylor Swift

In the past few days, some friends have asked me to explain the “Taylor Swift drama” that has been in the news recently. Why me? (ME!). Because most people who know me know that I am a big Taylor Swift fan, and have been for the past 11 years. But being a Swiftie doesn’t mean I’m incapable of being critical of her work or actions; rather, I believe it makes me a more qualified and generous judge of her character compared to the average listener of her music. Do I ever raise my eyebrows at moves made by Taylor and her team? Yes. But am I also a hardcore fan who will defend her to the best of my ability? Yes. In this post, I hope to elucidate why I believe standing with Taylor is important, especially given the double standards of the toxic, often male-dominated music industry.

Below is an image that Taylor shared on her tumblr:

What happened?

Two days ago, it was announced that Scooter Braun had acquired the Big Machine Label Group (Taylor’s previous label) from Scott Borchetta, and along with it, Taylor Swift’s entire back catalogue. If you are understandably asking who Scooter Braun is, he’s the manager of artists such as Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, Demi Lovato, and Kanye West (Trump supporter, husband of #KimOhNo Kardashian).

Why is this a problem for Taylor Swift?

Before I delve into what makes this a problem, I want to first address why it’s a problem for Taylor specifically. She puts it best on her tumblr post: Her “musical legacy is about to lie in the hands of someone who tried to dismantle it.” Scooter, like many other people in the entertainment industry, has always had it out for Taylor. This takes us back to 2016, when Taylor and Kanye had “beef” over Kanye’s song “Famous.” In the song, Kanye sings, “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex / Why? I made that bitch famous.” (How did Kanye make Taylor “famous,” exactly? According to him, by interrupting her award acceptance speech in 2009. Even Obama called him a “jackass” for it. ICONIC.) Anyway; Taylor claimed she never wanted Kanye to use her name like that in the song; Kim Kardashian then illegally released a recording of a phone conversation in which Taylor presumably said it was “okay.” It goes without saying that what Kim did was wrong and disrespectful. Not surprising for someone who has just recently tried to trademark “Kimono” for her own clothing brand. But let’s assume that Taylor did say “yes” to Kanye. How many women’s “nos” are manipulated by men into “yeses?” How many women out there understand how difficult it is to say no? How many women are blamed for situations in which they feel like they had no control?

To use a personal example, last night, I went out swing dancing, and felt someone rub my back in an intimate way. I turned around, expecting it was my boyfriend. No, it was a total stranger, who immediately asked me: “Would you like to dance?” My head said no, but what instead came out was, instinctively, “yes.” I spent the rest of the dance regretting it. I realized again, in that instance, that many women are often pressured and conditioned into saying “yes” to everything, when we should have the right to say no to as many people as we want. So, when people accuse Taylor Swift of saying “yes” to Kanye, one of the first things I think about is how easily people (especially men) will assume that saying “yes” is automatic, unconditional, and simple for women. I also think about how t he audio snippet Kim released was blatantly doctored and illegally publicized. And how Kanye later barely received criticism for stripping Taylor’s body double naked in his music video for “Famous.” Scooter was there when Kanye organized his “revenge porn music video” for “Famous.” Scooter was also there when Justin Bieber, Kanye, and some other random dude (see photo above) teamed up on social media to bully Taylor about being “exposed” by Kim. Scooter has, as Taylor rightly says in her tumblr post, been responsible for the “incessant, manipulative bullying” aimed at her for years.

Back to 2019…

So, given this context, you can understand why Taylor is not happy with SCOOTER BRAUN acquiring her masters, her life’s work, her greatest hits, her dreams. This is not “pettiness.” This is injustice.

Why didn’t Taylor just buy her own songs?

Folks have been saying that Taylor once “had the chance” to buy her own music, but “passed.” As Taylor makes very clear in her tumblr post, however, the deal offered to her by Big Machine Records, a.k.a Scott Borchetta, was anything short of liberating. In order to own her previous albums, Taylor would have to ” ‘earn’ one album back at a time,” one for every new one she turned in. This would take at least 10 years. Taylor walked away to set herself free. Borchetta, who genuinely believed he was doing himself a favor by sharing the following photo, posted an exchange between him and Taylor on his website. His post includes one text from Taylor, informing him of her decision to leave Big Machine Records, and one text from himself, notifying her of Scooter’s purchase. It does not take a genius, or even an English major like myself, to note the marked contrast in tone that both texts present. Firstly, I’m pleased to know that Taylor begins her texts the same way I begin my emails: “I hope this finds you well.” Secondly, one line in Scott’s text jumped out at me as carrying the saltiness of a salty, salty ex-manager: “I wanted to pass along to you the same courtesy that you passed along to me in regard to my future.” I saw no courtesy there. Honestly, go read the exchange, and tell me whether you see it.

Why does Taylor’s fight matter?

Scooter’s wife, Yael, addressed Taylor on Instagram, saying that Scooter “believed in you more than you believe in yourself.” Are you kidding me? Do I even need to expend the energy to rebut this? She also tells Taylor to leave her kids out of this drama, whereas Taylor had never, anywhere, in any way, mentioned Scooter’s kids. So. Perhaps it’s true, as Yael says in her post, that Scooter reached an “olive branch” out to Taylor. But after everything Scooter has done toTaylor, why should Taylor invoke the energy to respond to Scooter? Do people have to forgive or even interact with those who have hurt and traumatized them? No.

In the aftermath of Taylor’s tumblr post, different celebrities and media outlets have spoken out, each with their own story, each with their own way of reframing the narrative. Taylor herself is a master at framing narratives. After Kim called her a snake in 2016, Taylor rebranded her next album to successfully and cleverly incorporate the snake motif into her music. Her latest single, “You Need to Calm Down,” is an LGBT-anthem (or at least wants to be) that brands herself as a strong ally (although not without controversy) after years of her political silence. But I don’t want to make this about narratives or social media or celebrity gossip, which is what the tabloids want. This is “drama,” but as Taylor says, “I don’t love the drama, it loves me.” Try to ignore the gossip swirling around Taylor’s post (which albeit invokes it) and focus on the simple, straightforward fact that Taylor Swift is an artist who would like to own her own music and is fighting for other artists to also have that right. People point out that even The Beatles don’t own their own music. So? Since when has established tradition been a reason to preclude future change?

Taylor Swift “grew up in a pretty house,” but has not had an easy time in the spotlight. She is in a position of immense privilege, but also has had to make a number of sacrifices (like, privacy) to get to where she is today. There are articles out there saying that Taylor’s struggles are nothing compared to those of laborers who are also fighting for their own rights. People will say that Taylor has no right to complain, given her wealth and status. But if Taylor Swift, one of the most powerful and influential women in the world, is also subject to outrageous injustice and manipulation, what does that say about our world? That even those with the most power cannot have it all? Or that the profit-driven, business-minded, and often male-dominated music industry can always trump creative thinkers and artists?

The bottom line is that music written, sung, and produced by Taylor Swift, alongside many other artists, is now in the hands of someone who had absolutely no part in making it. It is in the hands of someone who has not been a friend to Taylor Swift. It is in the hands of someone who should, honestly, NOT have it. Whether or not you like Taylor Swift, take a moment to think about the implications of this transaction. Some might say that now that Scooter has Taylor’s music, he’ll want the best for her (now, he has a stake in it). While that kind of ownership mentality is toxic in itself, the facts speak for themselves: recently, Scooter’s team has been re-uploading Taylor’s catalogue onto iTunes and rebranding it; Fearless has gone from being under the “Country” category to “Pop,” erasing the contributions that the album made for country music in 2008. One of Scooter’s friends congratulated him on social media for having “bought Taylor Swift.“ The Big Machine deal between Scott and Scooter would have been nothing without Taylor’s catalog. Taylor’s years of hard work now enlarge the status and bank account of a man who has wronged and disrespected her on many occasions. Imagine if you were Taylor in this situation. Just think about it.

Since the start of her career, Taylor Swift has always been an easy victim. She’s been ridiculed by the media for her dating life when few other artists have experienced the same slut-shaming she was subject to; certainly, no men were victim to such media scrutiny. People love to say that Taylor can’t write her own music, even after she wrote the album Speak Nowentirely own her own to prove a point. People criticize Taylor for remaining silent on political issues and criticize her when she uses her voice. Too often, men treat women like easy targets, and assume that their casual “bullying” will have no consequences. Too often, men assume forgiveness. Too often, men think they can get away with anything.

What angers me about the Scooter-Scott deal is the way in which it reinforces notions of gender inequality and the soul-sucking nature of many business deals. But what gives me hope is the fact that I believe Taylor can make a change for the greater good. In the past, she has used to power to leverage deals with Spotify, Apple Music, and Universal Music Group to increase artists’ wages and agency. “People throw rocks and things that shine,” but “snakes and stones never broke” Taylor’s bones. Taylor Swift doesn’t have to say “yes” to anyone anymore. I believe that, in the years to come, she’ll be able to make the music industry a better and more equitable place. And that she will continue to be a role model for women and emerging artists everywhere. And for those reasons, #IStandWithTaylor.

Also read…

Like Taylor Swift, every woman faces a Justin Bieber: https://www.cnn.com/2019/07/02/opinions/taylor-swift-justin-bieber-isnt-a-feud-campoamor/index.html

Taylor Swift-Scooter Braun catalog battle is about more than just music: https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/taylor-swift-scooter-braun-catalogue-battle-about-more-just-music-ncna1025541

[hiddlesgirl]

SH 109: Rise Up

This episode, and the previous one, is making me like Jace more now and we get to see a more vulnerable side to Izzy. I loved some of the back and forth between characters and we get a really well done (more like medium rare, I’m sorry) fight scene.

We begin with Raphael catching up to a very scared Simon; he is terrified of what he has become and what his life will be now. When he was kidnapped he saw one of the worst sides of vampires so it is understandable that he has resentment towards them and Raphael; after all Raphael was the one who kidnapped him. He sees them as monsters, so thinks that he is a monster too. Raphael tells him that the clan are his family and the Hotel DuMort is his home now which Simon immediately rejects. I totally understand this, the Hotel DuMort is where he was keep prisoner and drugged by Camille, and it is where he died; it obviously has negative association for him. After getting frustrated and throwing Raphael he runs away, it is clear that he is scared of who he is and what he is capable of.

Raphael explains to Clary and Jace that Simon is experiencing his own personal hell right now and will need time to adjust to his new life. Clary feels guilty that she was the one who made the decision; she thought she was making the right choice by giving Simon another chance to live but seeing Simon’s reaction makes her doubt if her decision was the best thing for Simon. We also find out that Simon doesn’t remember that it was Clary who made the decision, so she has to decide if she is going to tell him the truth as Simon thinks it was Raphael who turned him and right now he needs Raphael to help him transition into the life of a vampire.

Magnus is back! He is adding wards to the institute to slow down any other Forsaken that Valentine may send. He offers to help heal Alec wound which Alec rejects and physical pulls away from Magnus despite Magnus not actually touching him; as he does this he looks around to make sure no one is watching the exchange. It is obvious that he is concerned about what the other Shadowhunters think and doesn’t want them to get suspicious about his possible feelings for Magnus, and toward the male gender in general. Magnus lets it go and asks where he can find Lydia; Alec gives a short answer and walks away. Magnus is clearly a little hurt by the cold shoulder Alec is giving him, especially after Alec seemed to be opening up to him the previous episode. But as usual Magnus doesn’t pressure Alec and is very understanding.

Meliorn is brought to the institute for questioning because the Clave suspects the Seelies are working with Valentine after it was discovered that the Forsaken has Seelie blood which is part angel, which allowed them to get past the wards. Izzy tries to defended him and suggests that blood from the dead scouts was used in the forsaken’s creation; but without evidence Lydia isn’t interested. We get to see a more vulnerable side to Izzy, despite her breaking up with Meliorn she doesn’t want him to get hurt for something she believes he would never do. Plus she feels guilty because it is partially because of his association with her that has caused him to be under scrutiny.  

Alec reveals to Izzy and Alec that their parents used to part of the Circle and they were the ones to tarnish the Lightwood family name. Jace says that he knows when kind of people they are, but at the moment all Alec can think about is that after all the pressure his parents of been putting on him to fix the family reputation that were the one to break it; they are pressuring him to right their wrongs. Jace and Izzy also find out about Alec and Lydia’s engagement and they aren’t thrilled. Izzy tells Alec that it’s his life to ruin and you can understand her reaction, all this time she has supported Alec, tried to get him to accept himself and to refuse their parents when they were trying to marry him off because she knows that it would make him miserable. She knows that by doing this he is condemning himself to a life of repression and unhappiness.

Simon has gone home probably in a vain hope of feeling safe after everything that has happened; how he almost bites his mother which causes him to freak out to the point of tears. He hates the thought that he could have hurt or killed his own mother. Luke tries to reassure Simon that he will feel better in time but Simon is understandably sceptical. Clary also reveals that it was her decision to turn him, he is distraught. He doesn’t understand why Clary would choose to make him live this undead life where he has to drink blood to survive, he feels slightly betrayed that she made he become part of this world he never wanted to associate with.

The entire institute is looking for the Cup after Meliorn revealed that Clary has it, but Jace manages to persuade Alec to let Clary hand it over. Jace and Izzy then enlist Magnus’ help to steal Alec’s stele so that they can take the Cup from the safe and get it to Clary. Magnus is reluctant at first, it is clear that he has some feelings for Alec and doesn’t want to work against him or do anything to hurt him but he knows that right now the best place for the Cup is with Clary, not the Clave so he agrees.

Alec tells Magnus that he getting married Lydia and Magnus in this scene destroys my heart every time. Magnus has been putting his heart out there to encourage a response from Alec because he knows that Alec hasn’t accepted himself yet and this scene is like Alec throwing all that care back in his face. He is devastated and disappointed that after everything he has done to encourage Alec to accept his feelings Alec has decided to reject that part of himself to make his parents happy; that Alec is marrying for a ‘solid partnership’ and not love grates on Magnus. It is the first time we see Magnus be anything other than gentle with Alec, he lets his emotions make him callous towards Alec trying to mask his hurt with quick jibes and disparaging words. He clearly does not approve of Alec decision but as usual he doesn’t pressure or force him in anyway and instead walks away from him, his ‘Goodbye Alexander’ sounds quite final (I need some tissues, crying here).

Meliorn is being taken to Silent Borthers to be questioned but it could kill him, Alec asks Lydia if she is sure it is the right thing to do. Lydia reveals the circumstances behind John’s death and that she prevented the torture of a Downworlder who may have information; John died because they went in blind. I understand that Lydia blames herself for John’s death and doesn’t want history to repeat itself ‘we rule with our heads, not with our hearts’ but she is turning a blind eye to the fact that they will be torturing a potential innocent as they have no evidence that his working with Valentine. She is letting her guilt and loyalty to the Clave blind her to the awful that they are about to inflict.

I love that Clary creates an alliance between the werewolves, vampires, seelies and themselves to save Meliorn. They know that if they let Meliorn be tortured the Clave will be stepping over a line, repeating past mistakes and the Downworld won’t be safe; their aim should be working together to defeat Valentine not tear each other apart needlessly. They are stronger together. I also like in this scene that Simon agrees to Raphael’s terms because he wants to do anything he can to protect the Downworld, it’s his world now and he is ready to fight to protect it. Despite him being scared and unsure right now he is still incredibly brave and wants to protect this new world he has become a part of.

I love the exchange between Luke and Raphael, it always makes me laugh. After the confortation caused by a werewolf shoving Simon he says that he should get used to people hating him because of who he is and Clary replies ‘never get used to it’ and I love the message it sends plus the multiple ways it translates to real life. No matter who you are you should never expect or get used to people hating you for it.

They are surprised to see Alec leading Meliorn but it doesn’t halt their plan; Clary tries to persuade Alec to see that by torturing Meliron they are going too far and that sometimes orders shouldn’t be followed. Alec replies that she doesn’t understand, he has always been taught to follow the orders of the Clave no matter what and in light of recent events he is trying to do the best he can, to be the best Shadowhunter he can to fix what his parents broke; but it is blinding him to the fact that it is wrong to subject someone to torture without evidence.

When Clary fails Jace attacks Alec and they fight. It’s a really good fight; dynamic, well choreographed and it looks real. Jace says that Alec’s recent behaviour is because of Alec feelings for him which is why he is so against Clary too; I personally disagree, yes Alec’s feelings for Jace affect him but his recent actions are because of the revelation about their parents. All his life it has been drilled into his that he has to be the best, to follow the rules and to live up to the Lightwood name, now he is getting pressure to restore their reputations when it was their parent’s who tarnished it to being with. He feels like his whole life has been a lie and is trying to do what he thinks is right to do right by his family and restore their reputation; but he doesn’t see the harm he is causing with his actions. Jace says the he doesn’t want to be alive if they are on different sides and we really get to see the emotional toll this is taking on him, his parabatai is pulling away from him and acting out of character; Alec has always been there for him, been his rock, and that has all changed in a short space of time. Jace asks Alec to go with him, to fight Valentine the right way, without hurting innocent people. But Alec doesn’t want to be considered a traitor like their parents were; he is trying to be better than they were so he says no. You can see the negative affect that this rift between them is causing to both of them; they both look lost and scared at this divide between them.

Simon has accepted his new life and doesn’t blame Clary, what’s done is done. He wants to figure his new life and how to control his urges and abilities; after Clary leaves you can see that he is still scared of his new life and of the place Raphael tells him is home but all he associates it with is his ordeal.

I’m a little confused about Izzy and Meliorn’s relationship, I presumed it was a mutually beneficial friends with benefits thing but their kiss is quite intimate and suggests that they are more than that. I don’t know, we’ll have to see their future interactions.

Meliorn thanks Clary for her help and admits being surprised by their efforts to help him; it is further confirmation that the relationship between Shadowhunters and Downworlders has been far from good in the past. He tells Clary that he can help her find her father.  

I liked this episode; we got more of an insight to Lydia, a heartbreaking Malec scene and some funny back and forth between Luke and Raphael.