#his faith traumatized him to the point he tried burning himself alive

[slocumjoe]

I do love isadora but my last sole survivor....he just had a zest to him. that lil guy came to me in a period of my life where I was Somewhat Deranged and my boy jesse diederik pieter willem gustav stefan boswel just has so much nostalgia for me and so much weird shit. he was my lil bug. and ive killed him

[brehaaorgana]

@fra080389-2-me Again uh. HUH? Zuko IS a rule follower?? That's part of his character arc!

Literally that is his core. He cares, deeply, about HONOR. Which is a RULE. The social contract of a ruler to his people involves honor and integrity. Honorable warfare doesn't sacrifice a slew of new recruits as canon fodder — so he loudly objects to doing so.

And then his father burns off half his face. And he ACCEPTS this, he is traumatized by it, and he has been told he has lost his honor by insulting his father, and the Fire Lord. And zuko, who really fucking cares about the rules, who is filial and honorable to a fault, is hellbent on restoring his honor.

Sure, atla zuko hires June:

Your beast trashed my ship. You have to pay me back!

Because he is demanding she right her wrong for damaging his ship.

He also doesn't share info with zhao because he doesn't trust him for shit. Like canonically the dude tried to kill him what, three times? Either way, he's uh. Not prone to listening to Zhao who he knows very well will actively try to sabotage him. He isn't stupid.

Also again, I point to zuko being an extreme rule follower, so much so that he follows the rules for breaking the rules:

By cutting off his topknot.

Zuko IS a bratty rule following prince. He believes in The (very Confucian) Rules, Very Much. He may bend or break the official laws to get his way BUT he cares deeply about not breaking the Social Rules and Laws of Honor. It's why he stops the Agni Kai with Zhao once it's clear Zhao lost. He cares about his honor in winning, even though he has the right to hurt Zhao. He turns his back on Zhao because he believes deeply in the integrity and honor Zhao SHOULD have when being defeated. It's also why in atla, zuko offers a hand to save zhao, who he hates, and who has tried to kill him:

Ignore the text, this is just me not wanting to find another gif for this moment. But this? This is rule following zuko.

Zuko is spoiled and bratty, and yes he does a lot of awful, questionable things, BUT he is also desperately trying to be a good Confucian Boy. Who should be filial.

Analects!

The Master said, "While a man's father is alive, look at the bent of his will; when his father is dead, look at his conduct. If for three years he does not alter from the way of his father, he may be called filial."

Zuko's big problem is his father is like, Lawful Evil. And that's why he objects to how his father wants to subjugate the earth kingdom, calls his ideas proof of him being "a fool."

The Duke Ai asked, saying, "What should be done in order to secure the submission of the people?" Confucius replied, "Advance the upright and set aside the crooked, then the people will submit. Advance the crooked and set aside the upright, then the people will not submit."

Ji Kang asked how to cause the people to reverence their ruler, to be faithful to him, and to go on to nerve themselves to virtue. The Master said, "Let him preside over them with gravity; then they will reverence him. Let him be final and kind to all; then they will be faithful to him. Let him advance the good and teach the incompetent; then they will eagerly seek to be virtuous."

So it's a HUGE DEVELOPMENT for zuko to acknowledge his father cannot be the kind of person who deserves zuko's loyalty, dedication, and filial piety.

Because like:

The Master said, "In serving his parents, a son may remonstrate with them, but gently; when he sees that they do not incline to follow his advice, he shows an increased degree of reverence, but does not abandon his purpose; and should they punish him, he does not allow himself to murmur."

The first time zuko followed the rules, and did not abandon his purpose in speaking out about sacrificing soldiers. And he took his punishment. But it's a character development arc that he realizes his father abandoned the greater rules in favor of attaining power, thus making him an unfit ruler who must be stopped. Even if it's not very filial to do so.

Because even in Confucianism, the people have a right to push back against a tyrannical king. The rules state that Ozai should be a father to his son, but also a father to ALL his people as Fire Lord. And he's not. He sucks at it. He isn't righteous. He doesn't uphold the concept of ren (humaneness, compassion). He's not upholding yi (a moral disposition to do good). Or zhi, the ability to see what is right and fair. Basically, Ozai sucks at the rules, he's a bad and terrible ruler, and Zuko realizes that this requires more drastic steps, because it is his DUTY to his people to help remove a corrupt king, a father of the nation who doesn't uphold his end of the relationship. He tried being filial and loyal to his father. But his father broke the social contract and is dangerous and has to be stopped. Zuko's duty to his people outweighs his filial duty.

In light of zuko being pretty Confucian, yes, it does make total sense they'd have him look down on petty gossip (especially from someone who hates him, like Zhao), and would view bounty hunters/mercenaries as being dishonorable. This totally tracks.

He also doesn't really seem to respect June in general when he hires her in ATLA, he's just demanding compensation lol. He calls people in the area filth.

Idk I feel like people are somehow forgetting basic zuko character points.

"Natla zuko acted like such a spoiled pampered prince. :/"

.......did you watch season one of avatar: the last Airbender because????

Zuko was always like this. I think some of y'all forget his crew ALSO was sick of him in The Storm (1.12).

Literally Lieutenant Jee's dialogue TO ZUKO:

What do you know about respect?

[Behind Jee, Iroh's expression turns to panic and he makes a cutting motion at his throat with his hand, trying to signal Lieutenant Jee to stop. Cut to Zuko's back as he stops walking before switching to his face as he listens to Jee's words.]

The way you talk to everyone around here, from your hard-working crew to your esteemed uncle, shows you know nothing about respect!

[Cut to a close-up of Iroh's face as he gasps slightly, reaching out a hand in desperation before moving it to his forehead in resignation, believing Jee has gone too far. Cut back to Zuko's face, contorted with rage.]

You don't care about anyone but yourself! Then again, what should I expect from a spoiled prince?

Like c'mon y'all. 😂 The live action didn't change anything to make him seem spoiled and entitled as a prince. He's literally called a spoiled prince in s1 of the cartoon by Lt. jee. lol.

[astradrifting]

This is kind of inspired by this recent ask I sent to @esther-dot about Jon’s characterisation and Jonsa shippers’ apparent disregard for it, because it made me think of another part of Jon’s characterisation that is really integral to who he is. Mainly, that Jon really loves his brothers. Especially Robb. His rival and best friend and constant companion. Jon envies him, competes with him, buried a formative traumatic memory where he was deeply hurt by him... but ultimately loves him. Complex relationships with his brothers, both the Starks and his Night’s Watch brothers, are a running theme in Jon’s chapters.

Speaking of Jon’s brothers...

Aegon VI and Robb have a lot of potential parallels, actually. The “Young” moniker, red-haired counselors who are also their parents, trained to be the heir to a great kingdom from a young age, the barely younger half-brother Jon borne of their father’s dishonour of their mother… one that they might both have a good relationship with despite that?

The show tried to play with Jon ‘accepting’ his Targaryen lineage through the jonerice romance, very unconvincingly because it was simultaneously undermining it at every opportunity, in what was maybe a half-assed attempt at Pol!Jon (”They’ll all come to see you for what you are” isn’t anything but a threat in all contexts).

Jon will ultimately choose the Starks over everything else, that’s not really a question. But if Jon were to genuinely connect with another Targaryen, it’d likely be easier for him to find kinship with a half-brother than with an aunt - he has a basis for positive relationships with trueborn half-brothers, while the only aunt figure he’s ever known about is a) long dead and b) actually his mother. I think it’d both make more sense and be more compelling for GRRM to leverage Jon’s existing complex relationships with brotherhood by having him interact with and build a relationship with Aegon, than a rushed and out-of-character romance with Dany. 

Jon also is already primed to believe that Aegon is the real deal, that he was saved as a baby, because he’s already done the exact same thing himself - he swapped out a baby of royal blood who was in danger for a common-born boy, and then sent him halfway across the world for safety (side note: if Septa Lemore is Ashara, and if the baby was actually Ashara’s son as theorised here by @agentrouka-blog, that would just strengthen the parallel, because it would be his body double’s mother caring for him, as Gilly has to do for Mance’s son).

They’re definitely going to come into conflict first - politically, Jon will likely be in a position of power in the North by the time they meet, maybe as the KitN through Robb’s will or regent for Rickon, and probably will fight for Northern independence, while Aegon is fighting to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, not 6. Personally, it will be hard to get past the fact that Jon is the direct result of Rhaegar dishonouring Elia, plus that the Kingsguard who should have been protecting her were all stationed in Dorne, guarding Jon’s mother (in whatever capacity). But these interactions, a conflict and eventual friendship/brotherhood between them, would all be a lot more layered than jonerice can really offer. If a relationship between Jon and Dany was truly all that GRRM has been building up to, then there would have been no need for R+L=J - it adds nothing to that storyline, it doesn’t even make it a forbidden romance, because aunt-nephew is hardly the worst incest the Targaryens have engaged in.

It’s almost inevitable that Da*nerys is going to kill Aegon VI/Young Griff in the books, likely by burning him with dragonfire, in the Second Dance of the Dragons. The weird Dragonpit meeting in the show was very contrived, but it does make sense for Dany to meet the ruler on the Iron Throne at least once in a semi-peaceful context. In the show, she used her dragons only to intimidate Cersei, but she didn’t have a personal grievance with her. Aegon is in much more danger during such a meeting. After all she will think he is a pretender, and she doesn’t much care for the rules of safe conduct, as she showed to the envoys from Yunkai.

Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. 

[...]

"You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss." She wrinkled her nose. "You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message."

(ASOS, Dany IV)

"Ah, there is the thorn in the bower, my queen," said Hizdahr zo Loraq. "Sad to say, Yunkai has no faith in your promises. They keep plucking the same string on the harp, about some envoy that your dragons set on fire."

"Only his tokar was burned," said Dany scornfully.

(ADWD, Dany VI)

So Dany will burn the Blackfyre pretender, and everyone will be happy and cheer to see the rightful queen, the last Targaryen, Slayer of Lies, Breaker of Chains, Insert-The-Million-Other-Titles-Here. Right?

Except how would she prove that he’s an imposter? She can’t exactly roll up with an Alt Shift X video pointing out that Illyrio has said some weird things about Aegon. Is Varys going to have an attack of remorse and explain his whole plot, complete with Blackfyre family tree? Or maybe she’ll explain that she went on a vision quest in Qarth and Aegon totally matches up with the vague symbolism that a bunch of drugged up warlocks told her before she set them on fire?

I don’t think it’s going to matter if Aegon is fake or not, and we might never find out either way. The mystery of his identity isn’t his main narrative, and all of his significance to the story and to multiple other characters is removed if he’s proved to not be Aegon VI. Him being proved fake would just make this plotline a weird, unnecessary digression on Dany’s journey to being the righteous and true queen, his death just another #girlboss moment for her. That’s definitely going to be her perception of it, but once she reaches Westeros we won’t have to rely on only her POV of her actions. History is written by the winners, and no one’s going to miss that it’s a lot more convenient for Dany if the boy with a stronger claim than her turns out to have been fake all along. Arianne and the Dornish are definitely not going to take it lying down, and neither is Jon. He’s not going to fall in love with the woman who murdered his brother, especially by burning him alive. ADWD has plenty to say about how much he hates death by fire.

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though … do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the boy. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

(ADWD, Jon II)

Funnily enough, the same fire as a kiss imagery from Dany burning the envoy’s tokar appeared there too, also used as a threat. 

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. [...] What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

(ADWD, Jon IX)

So Aegon’s death is not going to be a triumphant victory for Dany, after which everyone proclaims her the true queen. It’s likely to just solidify opposition to her, from every corner of Westeros. If it happens during a summit or negotiation, it’d be even more of a tragic parallel to Robb and the Red Wedding; the young king murdered off of the battlefield, at an event where he was promised safe conduct. Featuring Dany in the role of Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s already died a very undignified death, and Roose Bolton looks to be on his way too.

I think the tragedy of Aegon’s death would also hit harder if we see it through Jon, as a main POV, or at least the aftermath of it. Jon was integral at the Dragonpit meeting after all, and probably would be at a peace summit or negotiation between the leaders of Westeros and the invading force.

In ASOS, there’s a curious lack of Jon’s reaction to Robb’s death. We see his initial reaction to Bran and Rickon’s supposed deaths when he gets back to Castle Black, but he doesn’t even know about Robb’s death until Stannis arrives to defeat the wildlings, and we’re not shown the moment he’s told about it. He barely even thinks about it, not even a mention until he meets with Stannis on top of the Wall:

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.”

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. “I loved my brother,” he said.

(ASOS, Jon XI)

And that’s literally all we get that is specifically about Robb’s death - the rest of Jon’s chapters, his guilt and grief is about the loss of all his siblings, and the idea of stealing Winterfell from them. It doesn’t really make sense for him to not think about it at all, considering how close they were. This reminds me of how he has a non-reaction to Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion as well, as talked about in this post by @agentrouka-blog. Part of this could be Jon’s tendency towards denial and suppression of all his feelings, but it also points to GRRM explicitly obscuring his reaction - perhaps because he’s going to explore it in the wake of another brother dying a very similar death? One that this time he’ll be there to witness?

[lonelyghosts-stuff]

Loki x Reader Imagine/Plot Summary Idea

Very slow burn, enemies to lovers

Disclaimer: this turned out to be MUCH longer than I planned and waivers back and forth between being a story idea to prompt others to write a full story and having fully written sections lol.

During the events of the Avengers movie y/n, a seemingly normal everyday citizen, got in the line of danger and inadvertently showed her unstable powers (im thinking something along the line of telekinesis caused by an astral power form that struck her as a teen and used her as a vessel to contain itself (it’s not necessarily alive, I guess you could equate its “sentience” to that of Doctor Strange’s cape) this power source is unstable in y/n as it needs to be controlled and flow and not suppressed, but also not overreleased or the vessel, in this case y/n could die. I’m picturing some kind of blue-ish purple mist.) which made the Avengers take note. Y/n goes into hiding because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone with her powers but the Avengers track her down and kind of have to subdue her to bring her to Stark Tower since she acted a bit brash and reckless trying to escape them believing she was a danger to everyone around her. During her time there more events of the first Avengers movie take place and she remains in a room of the tower, not necessarily being held prisoner, but more of to keep herself safe and everyone else safe. At one point Loki gets ahold of her and uses the staff to control her during which she causes a lot of damage to the city. Eventually the Avengers rescue her and what she regains control and realizes the damage she’s done she spirals into a major depression and feeling of not deserving to live. Eventually, she ends up fighting Loki, trying her best not to use her powers too brashly, also while not caring if she died in the process as she felt she deserved it. At one point she gets incapacitated and knocked unconscious, leaving the rest of the Avengers to defeat Loki and capturing him. With Loki now imprisoned and free from any of the brain altering effects the staff also had on him, he’s been informed of the effects he’s had on y/n and feels a bit guilty but not too much. He still has his wicked side to him and a desire to escape and get revenge on the Avengers and Thor. Using his range of skills in lies, illusions, manipulation, and skills in combat, he tries many times to escape, all the while slowly developing a curiosity for y/n as she struggles to contain her powers and forgive herself for the destruction. Drama occurs here and there as minor fights break out about how to handle Loki. Y/n’s unstable powers are also a strong concern for the Avengers as she could indeed cause some major damage, all the while, ever since the display of her powers when she first defended herself to when she fought Loki have spread and reached the ears of Hydra agents, intrigued by them and their potential to be weaponized. As danger continues to rise, Loki finds himself feeling sympathy for y/n, seeing their similarities: they both were seen as monsters, they both don’t know their real parents, people are pursuing them to take advantage of their powers, etc. Y/N finds herself talking to Loki quite a bit as time progresses, feeling numb and not caring if he was considered dangerous (at one point or another he tricks her into entering his cell and he restrains her and threatens her to try and use her to escape, but despite her initial panic and fear, she still feels like she deserves death and pretty much doesn’t fight back). Slowly but surely a slight, unspoken bond forms between them, nothing serious or romantic, but just a connection.

One day (maybe a time skip to after the matters of Winter Soldier? I don’t know how long that might be), when an incident arises and the Avengers are called into action and take the Quinjet, taking Loki with them, manacled, to keep an eye on him, and y/n also to make sure she’s safe, a squadron from Hydra kidnap y/n and take her away to torture her and try and weaponize her. Loki, knowing how that feels with Thanos, desperately pleads with the avengers to try and save y/n. The Avengers still distrust Loki and refuse to free him but do bring him with them on their mission to rescue Y/N just in case he could provide any insight into stopping her. Y/n gets tortured and experimented on until she feels like a shell of her former self, vulnerable to manipulation. (She doesn’t necessarily get the full on “Winter Soldier” treatment, but close). When the Avengers track her down and go to rescue her, her powers, while still unstable, have grown and she uses them more confidently and aggressively to fight. Steve, having seen this before, is hesitant to fight her knowing she’s not the one in control, but still finds himself needing to do it. The others, while not necessarily wanting to fight her either, don’t have as much care or grief with fighting her as they don’t have as much of a connection to the situation as Steve. Loki witnesses a lot of the fight from the Quinjet comms and feels a pang of guilt and remorse seeing her, reminding himself of his actions.

Eventually, the Avengers take down y/n (it takes a bit not only due to her powerful, not yet completely understood powers, but also because Steve refused to let anyone take on lethal or seriously dangerous means of taking her down) and subdue her with a magic restraining collar. Not entirely sure how to reverse the brain washing without bringing her to Wakanda, she is kept in the towers as a prisoner in a cell opposite of Loki’s. Loki continues to argue with the Avengers asking to enter her cell and to remove his manacles so he can try to remind her of her memories, but the Avengers refuse to budge until Thor steps in saying he trusts Loki’s intentions and will be standing closely by to catch Loki if he tries anything, just in case. When Loki enters the cell and is freed of his manacles, while tempted to escape, he feels compelled to try and help y/n. Grabbing her head he instills his magic inside of her mind to restore her memories, reminding her of who she is. When she comes back to herself, y/n looks shell shocked and traumatized before weeping. To everyone’s shock, Loki comforts her and reassures her it’s not her fault. Y/n then proceeds to ask Loki to kill her, shocking Loki as he feels his heart crack at the thought of how she views herself. Having seen into her mind, he witnessed the tortured she endured, he witnessed her getting her powers, he witnessed her scared when she displayed her powers on accident to protect herself, he witnesses her devastation when she realized what she had done under Loki’s control, and now under Hydra’s control. He sees how broken and alone and worthless and dangerous and hated she feels. To further shock everyone else, he takes her hands into his and assured her she’s not alone. She’s not worthless. She is brimming with potential and so much more. Her scars do not define her nor do the actions or influences of others define her. Y/n quickly and rather suddenly pulls Loki into an awkward hug, Loki not really knowing how to show or return affection or care, and despite the hug feeling cold and icy, she feels her heart warm as she calms down. Thor quickly interrupts and reattached the manacles to Loki before escorting him back into his cell (he knows Tony is most definitely watching from security cameras) before carefully approaching y/n to ensure she was okay. After confirming she is, Thor escorts her to the others to reintroduce her to them and clear the air. Y/n can’t help but stare at Loki as they leave him in his cell. She feels sorry for him but also confused as to why he helped her and embarrassed at the fact she hugged Loki, the supposedly evil god of mischief, the man who had fought her, threatened her, and even mind controlled her. It felt like too much to wrap her head around.

After getting re-accustomed to the Avengers and having her revelation with Loki, y/n began to pursue training. Aided by Thor and the others, y/n slowly gains a better control of her powers, mostly how to prevent them from going haywire and getting out of control, but she still has yet to truly understand them despite knowing the case in which led to her obtaining them in the first place. Eventually, the avengers let Loki out of his cell, but requiring him to still wear the manacles and remain within the tower. Y/n, despite Loki having helped her recover from the brain washing and even showing her genuine care, found herself still being wary of Loki, especially now that he was out of his cell. Hearing of the many times he has gone behind Thor’s back or seemingly turned a new leaf only to betray Thor again made her increasingly doubtful and hesitant to believe this Loki was truly turning around or just using her as a pawn to escape and trick them all. Of course in Loki’s mind, being out of his cell was a breath of fresh air (despite him not being allowed to leave the tower besides occasionally going to the top and standing near the helipad to watch the sun set or rise). His spirits began returning to him including his mischievous and tricky nature. However, even with these returning, he didn’t have as much of an urge to act on them. At least not while y/n was around. He almost felt obligated to resist these temptations and urges as long as y/n was around as to not dishearten her or make her doubt her own abilities to stay in control of her own powers. If he slipped up or decided to leave, y/n might lose faith in herself and reclaiming the light side and controlling her powers. He already felt responsible for the pain and guilt she has experienced due to his mind control, but he couldn’t let her feel any more. He could still sometimes picture what he saw when he looked into her memories; the torture, the experiments, the loss of her own free will and identity. He couldn’t let himself go back down the road of darkness and make her think it’s inevitable she will do the same.

Despite his restraint to not cause any serious trouble, Loki still found himself causing some trickery here and there within the tower, mostly through minor illusions he could still conjure despite the manacles (his energy levels are much higher since being out of his cell) or through his general snarky, sarcastic, and sassy attitude. The Avengers still didn’t trust him, but they did begin trusting Y/n more with her control over her powers. Y/n proved her ability to keep her own for brief periods when she trained more with Thor with her powers and with Natasha with hand to hand combat. Eventually, the day came that Nick Fury approached and inquired about y/n, her moral leanings, her powers, and the potential of recruiting her for the Avengers. Y/n felt quite overwhelmed by the whole situation but also felt honored and like she could make up for the destruction she has inadvertently under the control of others by now helping others in need. As y/n grew more confident, some of the other Avengers grew concerned. Considered with his inexperienced she was, her unstable powers and emotions, her guilt complex, and even more so that hydra and even other organizations could possible still have a target on her or even more ways to control her now that they have done it already. With all these things in mind, however, the Avengers ultimately agreed with Nick Fury to recruit y/n, after all, she might as well continue to learn how to control her powers and potentially be useful instead of self loathing and dangerous. Loki managed to peer into the minds of the others and was able to piece together their plan to recruit y/n. If that’s the case, he could potentially still escape if he was certain she would be in good care with the Avengers, despite how he still detested them. His betrayal could potentially not have as big of an impact on y/n if she grew confident in her powers and ability and worth. Who knows, maybe his betrayal could even inspire her be nothing like him or to track him down. Then, they could have a more evenly matched fight. He kept lying to himself and telling himself the last part over and over again in a desperate attempt to justify his betrayal without hurting y/n. He had no real clue as to why he cared so much about y/n. Yea they had a lot in common but she was just another puny, midguard mortal.

Eventually, a mission was announced and y/n was about to go out into the field with the Avengers for the first time. Loki debated whether or not he should try to escape now or wait for another mission in which y/n may have more confidence built up after at least one successful mission. Loki ended up wracking his brain so much with his predicament he ended up not even leaving at all and still thinking by the time they all returned. A few scratches and bruises here and there but nothing too serious. Y/n was the worst looking of them all, not because she was injured severely, in fact she was probably the third most injury free, but because of how exhausted and almost gaunt she looked. It seemed her powers take severe tolls on her mind and body when she is forced to control and concentrate them to do specific tasks and avoid letting them unleash chaos. She almost fell onto the floor as she approached one of the many couches in the immensely large leisure room in the Stark Tower. She barely caught herself before flopping onto the couch and immediately falling asleep. Despite her looking like hell, seeing y/n lie there peacefully (again, despite her rather unconventional position she fell asleep in). He could sense her mind was at peace with herself. While doubts still were present, the didn’t dominate her thoughts anymore. She was easier to read like this without walls of fear and hatred and doubt clouding her mind. It wasn’t long before Loki realized the others caught him staring and y/n as they proceeded to exchange odd and confused glances. Of course, Loki being the way he is, immediately played it off that he was just in shock of how dead she looked and wondered why they seem to hate her so much to throw her into action. To which of course Thor responded by pressing his hammer into Loki’s chest and leaving it there until Loki yielded. Loki now felt more confident that he could escape during the next mission without any regrets.

But then the next mission came around and he remained.

And then again.

And again.

And yet again.

Loki was even shocked and surprised with himself. He ended up waiting nervously for them to return from their missions, now nervous something may happen to y/n. She didn’t deserve to suffer they way she did at his hands or the hands of hydra and she definitely doesn’t deserve to get injured or worse, killed while helping others. Thor began to grow hopeful and trusting of his brother, believing he had truly turned around a new leaf and that he was proud of him. That only made things harder for Loki. His whole life as a child he was jealous of his brother and secretly looked up to him, especially when they father had favored Thor over him. Loki was determined to find a way to shake off these feelings before things got any “worse”, making it harder for him to escape without a guilty conscience.

One day, when the avengers, including y/n, were on a mission, Loki saw over the news that people were trying to attack y/n specifically a family and their friends who were affected and attacked by y/n while she was under Loki’s control. Loki was able to see her powers flowing through her and her eyes as she tried to contain them as to not cause any more damage, but then the youngest one of the family against her, a young boy of around five years old, calls her a monster. Suddenly, y/n’s heart feels like it stops and shatters. Her powers glowed brightly in her veins and into her eyes as she screamed before falling to the ground, a massive shockwave rushing out from her and knocking back everything within a square mile (fortunately for the family and friends that were confronting her and everyone else in the area, the wave seemingly went around them) purple blue mist followed the wave before curving up and angling down and plummeting directly back into y/n as she seemingly uncontrollably floated into the air. When all the power returned into her, she went limp before falling to the ground, motionless. Loki immediately made his way out of the tower, desperately trying anything to remove the manacles as he rushed to the location the news had reported the incident was occurring. Halfway there, Thor stopped him having predicted he would have tried to escape a while ago but having realized his brothers developing interest in y/n. Knowing Loki held all kinds of reality changing powers within him, Thor took a leap of faith and unlocked Loki’s manacles. For a brief second, as Loki’s powers surged through him once more, he got a sudden and powerful urge to make his escape. But then an image of y/n came into his mind. And with that, he immediately pushed aside any desire of escaping to rush to y/n with Thor on his side.

When he finally got there, y/n had been pulled up off of the ground by Tony who carried her quickly trying to get away from the apparently still present threat. It was then that the immense (insert threatening, giant beast here) emerged into sight. Almost within a second of the beasts reemergence, y/n bolted straight up out of Tony’s arms, eyes glossed over with a purple and blue hue. She walked forward to the beast seemingly in a daze, unresponsive to the avengers cries. Suddenly, the beasts attention is turned to the family from before. Y/n’s eyes come back into focus as she realizes what’s happening. Without a second thought y/n rushed in front of the family and produces an immense wall of energy, defending them from the beast. As the beast struck at the wall, it appeared as though y/n was feeling the force transmit from the wall into her. The Avengers and Loki, albeit shocked and confused as to what was happening, took advantage of this to strike at the beast with all they had. When the beast seemingly began to weaken, y/n’s wall broke down and sent her flying back with the force of one of the beasts swipes. The family, now exposed, found themselves facing death as the beast lowered in to attack. Before it could make any advance, however, y/n bloodied and staggering, made her way between the beast and the family once more. Putting in all of her energy she produced one more wall of energy right as the beast struck, this time, y/n forced the energy into the beast and sent it flying back, but it grabs her last minute too and she flies with it.

The dust settles and the beast is slayed. The family immediately gets ushered to safety by Nat and Clint as the others close in on the beast to see what remains of y/n. Lying motionless on the ground as blood streamed from her head and chest, a razor claw is stuck through her upper right side of her chest and shoulder, the beast had just barely managed to swipe at here as she forced it back. Loki immediately rushed to her said and held her, to the shock and initial protests of the others, and began creating magic runes on y/n’s exposed skin around the wound. Y/n’s slowly fluttered open before she released a sharp shriek of pain. Seeing Loki healing her was too much with everything else going on, almost feeling like a fever dream. Her vision went in and out of focus as her blood loss lessened with Loki healing her. As he did so, he carefully and slowly lifted y/n off of the beast’s claw, resulting in many painful groans and shrill exclamations from y/n, eventually making it all of the way off and allowing Loki to safely seal the wound. Both looked absolutely exhausted. Y/n with blood loss and overloading her magic, and Loki straining his magic to its extent while it still is freshly returned to him and kinda of hard to control for now. It wasn’t before long when y/n closed her eyes and fell almost motionless once again, just her chest rising and falling as she breathed deep and raspy breaths.

Immediately returning to the tower, Loki not being forced to wear his manacles for the time being as somewhat of a test trial, y/n was ushered to the medical floor to rest and be treated for any other injuries alongside the other avengers who had managed to be wounded. Loki found himself almost never leaving y/n’s side, peering into her mind and seeing her at peace, feeling as though she had made it up for what damage she had previously done. And while this made Loki secretly happy for her, it also made him somber as it was his fault to begin with. It was four days before y/n woke up. And to her surprise, the god of mischief was slumped against the wall on the ground next to her bed, asleep. Despite it undeniably being a weird site to see, y/n felt warm and fuzzy inside. Suddenly, she remembered exactly what happened and quickly nudged Loki’s shoulder to wake him up. Loki immediately sprung to his feet to get a good look at y/n, awake and moving. In a reverse turn of events, this time it was Loki who pulled y/n into a rushed hug. This time, it was just right. Y/n returned the hug and they stayed there for a bit before slowly receding back. Y/n opened her mouth to say thank you, but before she could, Loki quite suddenly and boldly said he was sorry. Sorry for everything. Sorry for hurting her and making her do things that led to her hating herself, sorry that because of him, she’s had to suffer like this. As he apologized, tears began to well up in his eyes. Y/n was taken aback before gently cupping his face and telling him it wasn’t his fault either, the power of the staff was affecting his mind too. They were both used. It was another beat of silence as they both just stared into the galaxies in each other’s eyes. They were bonded and connected more deeply than ever before in ways no one else could ever understand. Slowly, they both inched their faces closer to each other...

And kissed.

Right as the rest of the avengers showed up to see y/n.

[valdarian]

Invader Zim- Infinite Pink: Prologue (1)

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This fic is intended for a mature audience and will be covering some traumatic topics that could be triggering. Please be advised! 

Read with caution! 

-Major Character death is temporary and only used in prologue.

-This fic is likely to make some uncomfortable or potentially be triggering. -It is intended for mature audiences, as it will be exploring dark and mature themes and situations. Such as violence, implied/attempted sexual assault and abuse. Non-con/dub-con warnings apply. I will try not to go into too much graphical details, however be warned it will be implied or referenced. -The events in this story are entirely fictional and merely done for dramatic effect. However, they are not intended to poke fun or downplay the real-life seriousness of these issues in anyway.

-I always try to include additional warnings in my author notes before each chapter.

WARNINGS OVER.

Stay safe!

===============================

SUMMARY: Zim’s trial was a victory for Irken society, their biggest thorn finally defeated for good. Zim’s soul reflects on his life and actions from the great beyond. 

When a second chance presents itself; Will he achieve his happy ending or wind up like he did before? Fighting against impossible odds, unraveling mysteries and discovering what lies beneath. Secrets will be revealed. What truth awaits?

===============================

NOTES: 

-Prazr is supposed to be slow burn endgame pairing.

-No Dib/mission to invade Earth (I don’t plan on exploring it) in this fic, besides small past references. 

-Instead it will be focused more on Irk and her history/society. Like Zim’s Academy/elite days.

-It’s been years since I’ve wrote a proper story, so please don’t mind the writing if it’s a bit weird in some places. I’ve had this plot stuck in my head for about a year. Inspired by my obsessed with Isekai/reincarnation/do-over manga and fics.

-If others want to use this as a base for their own story or art, that’s fine. Just tag me, I’d love to see what you do!

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

(The Abyss: Undetermined time after The Trial)

Zim floated endlessly in darkness, surrounded only by a feeling of a bygone age.

His body, the only thing visible as far as the eye could see. Was as bare as the day he was born, not even a PAK attached. 

Any Irken caught like this would be ridiculed for such degeneracy. Yet, he could not muster much shame. Only hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

He had nothing to show the passage of time. Only a half remembered feeling of what it was to be alive. Left alone in the Abyss with only his own thoughts and distant memories as company.

How long had he been here? Minutes, cycles...Eons?

Was this what death truly felt like? All alone and tormented by his life on replay.

Forever wondering what had went wrong.

He had been angry at first. Enraged at the thoughts of his trial and execution.

How dare they do this to him, to ZIM! He hadn't done anything to deserve this!

The pain of PAK removal was one of the few things still fresh in his mind.

He had cursed the hoomans and their filthy planet, the dib-beast for always interfering in his plans. As well as a long list of others for his fate. Just about anyone and everyone he could remember. No matter how insignificant they had played a role in his life.

His rage had burned without an end in sight. Who had he angered to endure such disgrace! Who did they think they were to put him through such humiliation? 

The names had slipped past his lips before he could stop them.

The Almighty Tallest.

His tirade had halted immediately. Appalled at his renegade of a mouth.

What traitorous thoughts! 

The propaganda and teachings of the Empire still deeply ingrained within his mind.

Yet, the more he had thought about them, the more his rage started to burn again. Turning into a blaze of discontent and resentment.

The Tallest had used him!

They were no more innocent then he!

Just as the Empire had designed them to. Zim had only been doing what any Irken soldier would've done...right? They were taught to love destruction and mayhem. How could he ever be the one in the wrong? Was not that, the purpose the Control Brains gave them?

He was only doing his duty.

What right did they have to punish him then!

Was not it the Tallest who had forced him to pilot during Operation Impending Doom? 

They hadn’t even asked what had caused the disaster. Why he had done what he did. Not that he could’ve answered them. Even now, that time is nothing but a distant haze at best. 

Still, they had never tried to find out what had went wrong. Only sending him to suffer on Foodcourtia under the sadistic Sizz-Lorr.

Did they like seeing him in pain? Did they enjoy seeing him unable to fight against them, even when they continued to ridicule him. Pushing him ever closer to his breaking point?

Like when they had sent him to that treacherous death-world known as Urth.

No! His body had shook in anger.

No, no. 

The truth was that they had sent him into the deep recess of space, hoping he would die.

He had turned a blind eye to all their misdeeds against him. 

For so long...too long, he realizes now. 

Letting his feelings blind him.  Everything had just felt so...so right with them. He had clung to a smeethood friendship. To long buried feelings that he swore they shared, but could not speak of. 

Had he really been that delusional?

They had been friends once, close ones. It had been an instant connection. One he thought would last the test of time. Since their days in the Academy, they had spent practically every waking moment by each other’s sides. Years spent studying, training and completing assignments together. Even graduated as elites with one another.  

He had cared about them, more than he could ever put into words. He had thought they had cared about him too.

Maybe they had one point...Until their love of status won out.

Zim had always known about their dreams of grandeur. But, had ignored it. Convincing himself, that no matter what, they would never abandon him. That they still cared for him...even if only a little.

Yet, time and time again he was proven wrong. 

Unwilling to accept the truth. His own delusions gladly filling in the blanks. They were ultimately the same as him, obviously. Only doing what the Empire wanted. What the Control Brains wanted. 

This was all an...act...There was no way they actually hated him. It was...a test! A test of his faith, of his will...of his love. No matter what, he couldn’t fail. He needed to prove himself to them. Maybe then...

What a pitiful creature he had been.

So much so, he had even done something as primitive as pray to the ancient Gods. Hoping that one day...

He really was delusional. The crazed mess everyone believed him to be.

After all, what Irken in their right mind, would ever want to be seen with such a tiny smaller? 

Yet, in the end he had still loved them. Even now his cardiac-spooch aches for them.

They had hurt him, but he had hurt them too.  He hates them, he loves them, he hates them, he loves them...

He doesn’t know what to think about them anymore.

After some time, his anger had eventually moved on. 

To the only ones left.

The Control Brains.

The machines who claimed to control everything. If they were truly such omnipotent beings, then surely they had to have known his PAK was defective! They dictated everything about Irken lives after all, from what they wore, to their careers and everything in-between. 

Then why was only he to blame!

Were not they the ones that programed him this way!

If he had been such a threat to the empire, if his PAK had so many errors, then why didn't they fix it!

Why had he been the only one to be punished!

If he was so broken, then why couldn't they have just fixed him!

…and just like that, the flames had been snuffed out. He had been quiet for a few minutes...hours...or maybe even days. Dwelling only on that single thought alone.

A sob had left him as the realization came crashing down.

Only then had he finally blame himself. A deep well of shame had quickly bubbling within him.

Over two hundred cycles, years devoted to serving the Armada. Bowing to the strict rules of the Empire and whims of his Tallest. Placing his loyalty to Irk above all else. Rejecting his natural inclinations. Forever trying to hid his perceived weaknesses.

It all amounted to what exactly?

He was defective. A mistake. A problem to be remedied and swept under a rug to be forgotten.

He was only capable of needlessly destroying everything in his path, even himself.

Forever trying to be something he wasn't.

While Silently pleading, hoping beyond hope someone would give him the attention...the love that he so desired. His peers would recognize him and appreciate him.

Irk was sure to celebrate his death for cycles to come.

It's not that he hadn't tried to control his urges. He had tried, he really did. To be the perfect soldier, to be the prime Irken example.

But, at his core, that not who he was. Despite how much he had tried to make himself to be so.

Luck was as much his friend as it was his enemy.

In a society were one was not to step out of line, not to break any mold, to do only what they were told. Someone like him, could only double down. Hoping that maybe this time something would go right. If only he kept trying it wouldn't be considered failure. Something would have to work eventually, right? He hadn't been kicked out of the collective yet. So that meant there was still hope.

What a fool he had been. 

Chaos incarnate many called him. The name Zim was synonymous with destruction and failure. He had no glory, no honor. He was nothing but a devil to his own people, an omen of their death.

By the Gods, if he could just go back! 

His hands clench at the thought.

Would things be different? Could he make different choices. 

Even if his loyalty came into question? If he walked a different road then that of the perfect little Irken. 

Would he even be capable of such a thing?

He doesn’t know.

If only he had tried a little hard to control himself. If he could just be given another chance to prove himself. If to no one else, but to him. If he could just have a chance to live life how he truly wanted.

If only he could start over. If only...

A humorless laugh leaves him. Who would even give him the time of day? To him of all Irken?

As if.

His Empire had denounced him. His people had forsaken him. He had nothing left.

Magenta eyes stare blankly into the expansive darkness. They close as he  buries his face into his knees, lamenting his fate.

Truly this couldn't have been a more fitting punishment for someone as despicable as him.

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

Cover Art: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643477875611271168/cover-art-for-my-invader-zim-fanfic-infinite

OC ART:https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643603226310148096/just-a-few-of-my-oc-that-appear-in-infinite-pink

MAP of IRK: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/644055524128735232/guess-who-found-a-world-map-maker-its

Next chapter:

https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/640238150925598720/invader-zim-infinite-pink-ch1

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

Kdrama recs Part 2

Hello @camsthisky and anyone else who cares! I do apologize for the delay on this post--it has only been 84 years since Part I of my kdrama recs, I know, and I thought about going for a full century but this is me finding a way to de-stress after watching the first episode of I-Land alkdjfadlksj I’m gonna die of heartbreak but whatever

Speaking of heartbreak, there is a lot to be found in Korea’s wonderful historical dramas, so like, be warned—or, if you are an angst-loving monster like me, settle down for hot guys and good cries

Let us begin! (or, if you want romantic modern dramas see Part 1)

1. Scarlet Heart Ryeo/Moonlovers: 

aha ahahahahahaha *weeps* You may have heard people talk about this show. You may have heard ME talk about this show. This thing was my first kdrama ever and it RUINED ME 

Disclaimer: I have seen this show once and rewatched it twice and on the rewatches I can never quite make myself watch the last 4 or 5 episodes because things get tragic and messy and I get mad. HOWEVER there is a lot of good in the first part of the show and because this thing was all the rage in everywhere but Korea itself, there’s like over 300 fanfic for it and several good fix-its, including one by my good friend @thelonelybrilliance

Ok so anyway this show which could also be called An Abundance of Princes starts with a young woman from modern times getting thrown back into ancient Goryeo during an eclipse and finds herself in the body of Hae Soo, the cousin of the wife of one of the princes, and thus she gets embroiled in royal affairs which are, quite frankly, a mess. See, the evil eyeliner prince (whom I love even when he’s the worst) is plotting with his mom to get the Crown Prince out of the way aka dead BUT who should return to the Palace but the 4th Prince, Wang So, who has spent at least half his life living as hostage to a powerful family. 

So has a scar that cuts across his eye and which in this society makes him a horror to look at or smthing idk he just looks extra hot to me but anyway he wears a mask and is known as the wolf dog (or as the MURDER ANGST CUPCAKE thanks @abadpoetwithdreams). He might seem a little rough around the edges at first because his life has been hell but he really just wants to love and be loved okay people need to be nice to him wtf

Other princes include: 

    1.  the Crown Prince, Wang Mu, a good egg, not particularly charismatic but he tried to protect his lil bro when no one else would

    2.  the 8th prince, Wang Wook, who reminds me of a fellow named Shane and I don’t mean the cowboy

    3.  the 10th prince, Wang Eun, a dumb adorable spoiled bby (played by Baekhyun from EXO)

    4.  the 13th prince, Baek Ah, a tol soft boi, an artist, a BAE, a BRO, a SHIPPER ON DECK

    5.  the 14th prince, Wang Jung this son will fight everyone he’ll fight himself he just loves to fight! Not always wise but he’s a good boy and I like him a lot 

    6.  just realized I skipped the 9th prince but nobody cares 

One quick note is that IU plays Hae Soo, and I enjoy her a lot in the first half of the show where she is still spunky and rebellious...sadly her character kind of falls apart/gets too weak for my liking as the episodes progress

The MAIN reason why I feel it my duty to recommend this show to everyone despite the fact I have never met anyone who wasn’t traumatized by it is LEE JOON GI

Yes, this man:

 I mentioned him in the previous rec post—he played Bong Sang Pil in Lawless Lawyer (AND IS NOW CURRENTLY STARRING IN FLOWER OF EVIL WHICH WILL BE ON ANOTHER POST AHDFOIASDHGALDSKJF FRIQ I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN) 

BUT SERIOUSLY LOOK AT HIS PHOENIX EYES!!! HIS RAZOR SHARP FEATURES! HIS BIG ADORABLE EARS! HIS BEAUTIFUL EXCESSIVE BANGS! 4TH PRINCE WANG SO LOVE OF MY LIFE

SOMEONE PROTECT THIS BBY

2. Hwarang: Ok so right off the bat I am going to smack down a disclaimer that I can’t stand the female lead. TRULY CANNOT. Thus, I don’t like the romance, and only care about the love triangle as far as it just shows how sad and lonely one of the guys is. (Also there are scenes of dumb old men plotting and I don’t like them either). At the end of the show, I am happy that the one guy is NOT stuck with the female lead as his wife. Good for you sir

Sounds like a show to steer clear of then, right? WRONG. This is a show that you skip through because the scenes that are good? Are GREAT

Picture this: It is the Silla era of Korea, and the queen is ruling as regent in place of her son, who has been hiding all his life because everyone wants to kill him. Well, son is now grown and must soon come into the light and take the throne. Queen who both wants her son as king but also really likes being queen decides to do everyone a favor and form an elite fighting squad out of all the prettiest and most talented sons of nobles in the land, with the idea that they will be loyal only to the throne, and thereby keep their dads from plotting to destroy everything. 

Let me tell you something, these ARE the prettiest boys in the land. Good hair, good jawlines, beautiful smiles—the cast lineup includes Park Hyung Sik and his cute lil elf ear, Park Seo Joon, Taehyung (yes from BTS!), and Choi Minho from Shinee, plus two other actors who are lesser known but who are drop-dead gorgeous. Anyway. Sorry, but they really are all beautiful. 

The fun thing is they don’t all get along right away, a few of them are VERY much opposed to the other for various reasons, but they all have to bond and become brothers in arms. And what they don’t know is that the real king snuck in and is one of them. 10/10 I would die for the boys! (also Tae has an older half-brother who is a lower rank than him but whom he looks up to and that makes for cuteness and pain) Once you skip the boring or annoying parts of the show, the rest has so much delight, laughter, and oops pain, lots of pain. I want to go re-watch. 

Two other things I should mention about the show: a super soft side romance between secondary characters and a game of, as they call it in the show, HOT SOCCER 

^pretty boy 1 (with the cute elf ear sadly on the other side of his head)

^pretty boy 2 (sad cheekbone bby) and pretty boy 3 (happy cheekbone bby)

^pretty boy 4 (the prettiest of them all, and he knows it!)

^pretty boy 5 (aka Taehyung danced around the set of a historical drama and made everyone adopt him as their bby) 

3. Faith/The Great Doctor: This is a longer kdrama at 24 episodes and they didn’t have much of a budget so special effects aren’t the best or anything but I just got really attached to all the characters? This is another modern girl goes back in time but UNLIKE SHR it actually has a happy ending, so if you need a historical drama cleanse after that tearjerker/enrager, this could be it for you

Eun Soo has to navigate the ancient kingdom, keep people believing she is a heavenly doctor with special powers, and keep Choi Young alive so he can fulfill his promise of returning her to her own time. The problem with that is Choi Young does have kind of a death wish because of reasons—

Eun Soo is a plastic surgeon who would really like a rich handsome husband one day but them’s the breaks for you, aka she has had no luck in that department. Back in ancient Korea, Choi Young (played by Lee Minho in sadly the only role I really love him in) is a high-ranking beloved captain who can fall asleep anywhere. Oh he can also make electricity with his hands! :D

The story begins when the sleepy sad captain tries to escort the new king and queen to their palace. This was during the time period when ancient Korea was basically a puppet kingdom/tributary of ancient China (Yuan). The king (who is very smol and lacks confidence, but still has a good heart for his country) lived as a hostage in Yuan for many years, and his wise tol queen is a princess of that land, and someone needs to sit them down and make them talk because they actually love each other a lot. Anyway, when the queen gets injured by assassins, Choi Young goes searching for a legendary doctor, winds up in modern Korea, and steals both Eun Soo and a SWAT shield, because hey, it looked cool I guess

Lots of fun things in the show: Choi Young has a crew of soldiers who are BEYOND loyal to him, and while he doesn’t think much of the king at first because he’s been burned by kings before, they slowly become bros and shippers on deck for each other. Eun Soo does not lose her spunk or loyalty unlike other people I could mention *cough*HaeSoofromScarletHeartRyeo*, and it cracks me up when she curses people out. There are also a bunch of people (mostly bad guys) running around with special powers or gifts, including a flame lady and a flute boy, and the latter wears delightful anime wigs, keeps his sword in his flute, and plays his flute to kill—literally! I love flute boy very much 

sorry it’s black and white but DO YOU SEE THE SWAT SHIELD

4. My Country: A New Age:

ANGST ANGST ANGST PAAAAAIN BUT ALSO BEST INTRO BEST FAVES BEST ACTORS

Picture this: two young men, who both hail from childhoods of trauma, who grew up together and are best friends, and who are tragically forced apart and end up on opposite sides of a conflict that threatens to upend the current rule of the kingdom. This IS the star-crossed brotp you’ve been waiting for!

Seo Hwi is the son of a general who died a criminal, and all he wants is to live simply and earn enough rice take care of his younger sister, who has seizures and a sweet crush on Hwi’s bestie. Hwi is the best softest most loyal boy with a good and true heart, a great deal of courage, and a talent for wielding a sword, and just wait till you see the best one-shot fight scene ever of him in battle, it is INCREDIBLE! (He is played by Yang Se Jong, who I now want to see more of) Hwi has an abundance of charisma points in that he picks up a small band of loyal soldier friends and they become the best little found family, lots of brotp-ness in this crew—do not mess with any of them because they will all FIGHT you

Seon Ho meanwhile is the illegitimate despised son of a powerful nobleman, only tolerated because the legitimate son died. Seon Ho loves his friend and is very protective of his friend’s little sister who crushes on him but his dad is a high class grade A power-hungry jerk and that causes complications of course. Seon Ho also has a good heart, he’s a gentle soul really, but he always gets stuck in bad positions and unfortunately makes a couple of difficult/bad choices so he hardens himself as much as he can but the consequences always kill him and he just wants to save his friends and destroy his dad and the stupid hierarchy that treats bastards as lesser. WHY IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? 

Seon Ho he is played by Woo Do Hwan who has so much talent I die so many times over in this show just because of the way he portrays Seon Ho like that sad sad boy is one of my favorite characters evER! Is he problematic? At times maybe but I am HERE for him he just needs LOVE AND AFFECTION AND AN ABUNDANCE OF GOOD FRIENDS BUT INSTEAD (SOMETIMES THRU HIS OWN FAULT BUT HE ADMITS THAT) HE JUST SUFFERS AND SO I SUFFERRRR

*grabs a towel and dries up my tears*

Hwi also falls in love with a woman named Hui Jae (or was it Hee Jae i can’t remember) and they are very cute together, she’s pretty cool but the show’s one failing is arguably that they kind of underuse her in the plot as the story goes on? But I still like her and she still has a good role, and she is both brave and kind and not afraid to step in or tell people off, also keep a weather eye open for patching up scenes! 

Oh yeah, eVERYONE in this gets hurt/stabbed/shot/bloody, such a shame they have to take their shirts off to clean and bandage the wounds ;)

Last character I must mention is Bang Won, played by Jang Hyuk in his second interpretation of the historical figure. Bang Won is the fifth? son of the guy who becomes emperor/king, and he has his own plans for the country, so when Hwi catches his eye, he recruits him to his cause.  What you need to know about him is that he has issues with his dad, is slightly unhinged, and cannot and should not be parted from the fan that he constantly carries around with him. Gotta say, Jang Hyuk is FANTASTIC (heheheheheheh) in the role, able to convey all kinds of emotion in the rise and fall of his voice, in the tilt of his head, the tears of his eyes, the flick of his fan. Give this actor all the awards! 

To sum up: if you like to cry for days after watching a drama, if you like excellent heart-wrenching brotps, if you like conflicted characters, if you like amazing music and setting and plot, if you like guys with good hair and arm muscles (and 

abs, thank you shirtless scenes what) this show is a Must Watch 

DID I SAY STAR-CROSSED BROTP I MEANT SWORD-CROSSED BROTP ADKJFADLSKJFLKJDFALKDGKLJL </3

~

Ok I was going to leave the historical drama post at this for now but...I’m going to cheat a little and include the one historical C!drama I just finished.Yes folks I am talking about:

5. Nirvana in Fire:

Ok so maybe the switch from kdrama to cdrama makes you uncertain. Maybe the fact that this show has FIFTY-FOUR EPISODES makes you go hell no I don’t have enough time for that. Well if you overlook this show for those reasons, you are making, and I do not exaggerate, the greatest mistake of your show-watching life!

Look, first, this drama has one of the best, most intricate, most satisfying plots in history, with like 20 characters you would die for, and second, the episodes are only about 42 minutes each, which is shorter than most kdrama episodes, so you can deal.

Once upon a time there was a general/family who were just too good to exist in corrupt old China, so naturally they were framed for treason and there was a giant massacre and everybody died, including the eldest prince who was like um dad maybe this is all a horrible mistake and the king was like no u are the mistake. Sad times.

One of the many younger princes named Jing (A NOBLE HEART, if not always the cleverest) returns home from wherever he was, finds out that not only did his prince brother die, but so did his best friend/brother in the whole wide world, Lin Shu, son of the general. Because he insists on the innocence of said bros/family, Jing becomes an outcast prince and is shuffled off to fight in wars where he can’t cause any trouble. Meanwhile, Princess Nihuang, Lin Shu’s brave, awesome, amazing, wise, incredible girlfriend, refuses to marry anyone else, and because she is too cool to be messed with, nobody tries to banish her

Cut to I think eleven years later, when the two most powerful princes are vying to be the crown prince and heir to the throne. They both try to recruit the aid of a renowned clever and sassy strategist named Mei Changsu, to help them with plotting and PR and such.

Well little do they know that Mei Changsu is actually the not-dead Lin Shu, with a completely new face (for reasons), and that Mei Changsu is a chess master setting up a long con for the dual purpose of obtaining revenge/justice for the dead and of raising Prince Jing to the throne, since Prince Jing is the only man with a good enough heart and strong enough will to make China a better place for all the people. But just to make it hard on everybody, Mei Changsu is dead set on not telling anyone who he really is—again, for reasons. He is not always successful in keeping his secret.

I literally don’t know what else to say because there is so MUCH to say, so many characters to love, and I mean LOVE. How do you get a cast this good? How is everyone so different yet so important? How do you feel bad for the emperor even when he’s slimy? How do you have to stop yourself from rooting for the prince who would destroy some of your faves? I can’t praise the charisma and acting talent in this show enough! And the music! IS GORGEOUS!

1 strategist too sassy for his own good and too clever for everyone else’s good + 1 prince who loves his mom and his dead best friend and his dead older brother more than anything else in the world + 1 gentle wise mom + 1 eternally loyal princess who would defend her loved ones with the sword if necessary + 1 sassy Elrond healer man + 1 grumpy sulky baby who loves being a better fighter than almost everyone + 1 loyal to the death, brave badass general who is going to have a stress breakdown if the strategist doesn’t take better care of himself + not 1 but 2 good boys who deserve to be protected but who are willing to throw themselves into battle if necessary + 1 antagonist tiger prince who I love and am not ashamed to say it = THE BEST OF TIMES

^he hardly ever wears his hair down but when he does <33333333

*checks calendar* how soon is too soon rewatch something, asking for a friend

[hedwigstalons]

Sensory Sunday - Touch

A little musing inspired by the Sensory Sunday challenge set by the wonderful @gumnut-logic.  It’s short, it’s not proof read, it probably doesn’t make any sense but that's what you get when I’m tired and life is all feeling a bit too much.  Enjoy.

xoxoxox

The Tracy brothers were no strangers to pain, it came with the territory.  It was a good day if everyone returned from a rescue injury free but it wasn’t often a good day.  The island infirmary had to be kept well stocked to deal with all the scrapes acquired in the line of duty.  Despite their high pain thresholds and devil may care attitudes to their own safety there were particular injuries and treatments that struck fear into each brother.  These weren’t necessarily the most painful but each came with their own personal nightmare.

For Scott his nemesis was the cannula.  The slight sting of the needle followed by the chilled flood of the IV entering his bloodstream had him shivering more than should be caused by the mere influx of fluid.  Gordon might tease him for his reaction to needles but it wasn’t the needle that he had a problem with.  Being hooked up to an IV rendered him helpless, stuck in one position until released by the medic in change.  For a man used to being able to launch into the action and with a need to oversee his brothers the feel of the cannula signified a torture that far exceeded the physical pain.

If you asked Virgil what the worst injury was he would answer without hesitation, broken bones.  The snap and crunch of his body giving in to the forces pressed upon it would be enough to put anyone on edge.  Virgil’s tally of breaks came second only to Gordon but the aquanaut would declare that injuries gained before International Rescue didn’t count and so Virgil topped the list on a technicality.  It wasn’t really surprising seeing given his areas of expertise in demolition, engineering and heavy lifting.  For Virgil each broken bone came with the reminder that no matter how much he tried to build his muscles, no matter how strong he became, he could only overcome nature so far and his skeleton could still let him down.  Broken bones meant failure. 

Everyone on the island knew that John dreaded getting a headache.  Whenever he was earthside they were all attuned to the telltale rubbing of the temples, the dipped head and the slight glaze his eyes took on as he tried to deal with the pressure in his head.  The others assumed that it was just him being affected by the return of gravity that made him so quiet when the inevitable reentry headache struck but for John the pain ran deeper.  Headaches could mean oxygen deprivation.  Headaches could mean something wrong with the carbon dioxide scrubbers and that he was slowly killing himself breath by tortuous breath.  Even surrounded by the fresh air of home, safe in the knowledge that he definitely was not suffocating, a headache came with nightmares.

Gordon was different to the others.  Pain he could deal with.  Pain meant he was alive.  No, it wasn’t burns or cuts or breaks that held the most dread for him.  For Gordon the worst possible feeling was the absence of anything.  The lowest point in his life, fearing that he would be paralysed forever more, came with a distinct lack of anything.  It accounted for his need to to constantly seek the sensations that meant he was still alive, still functioning.  Gordon would much rather deal with with the sting of blistered palms or the throbbing pain that followed a surgery than return to the days of nothing.

And then there was Alan.  There were no personal nightmares for him; all pain was horrible and none was more traumatic than the rest.  Alan might not be able to tell you the worst feeling in the world but he definitely knew what the best was.  No matter what he was going through, no matter how much he was hurting, there was always a brother to scoop him up.  Ok, sometimes that help took a little while coming but he had faith that come they would.  Whatever he had to face he was confident that there would be a brother or four at his side with a steady pair of arms and a hug that could beat the best medicine in the world.

[ziracona]

The tendency in fandom to take every white girl with short hair, regardless of the status of their canonical interest or lack of interest in women and explicit interest and/or sexual history with everything but, proclaim them a lesbian queen, and then ignore or absolve them of every single horrific act they take in fiction because of this. Is not doing feminism. Women. Lesbians. Or anyone. Any favors. It’s just bad.

Somehow. Some people really do apparently need to hear that...being any specific sexuality...is not a personality trait.

And also. Women aren’t inherantly less vile than men (or anyone non-binary, agender, fluid, etc, else), and whatever bad deeds they do should be judged based on just that—on the deeds, and their context. Not their sexuality, imagined sexuality, or their gender. Becuase none of those things effect whether committing murder is bad. At all. Not even a little. And none of them. Is even a personality trait. Affecting the character’s value as a person.

It’s cool, and good, to see characters with minority identities. And it’s real nice. When it’s whatever you are. But them being whatever. Is not a personality trait. Just a fact. And sometimes. People of any type. Are not good. Pretending any minority status—gender, sexuality, race, disability, neurotype, etc—is a get out of jail free card? Is not. Doing them. Or anyone. Any favors. Personality disorder. Doesn’t make you bad. Also doesn’t make you good. Your actions do. Acting like Amy from Gone Girl did nothing wrong when she date rapes her boyfriend & then frames him for doing that to her & ruins his life, then blackmails her husband who is terrified of being murdered by her into staying with her for the sake of the child she made at a fertility clinic with his sperm without his consent, bc she’s a woman. Isn’t good. Men aren’t more deserving of violence than women. Neither is anyone else. Jane. Left an infant child in an unheated car in subzero weather in a snow storm with zombies around that easily would hear it cry and go eat it. So she could lie and say she already let zombies eat it to bait a man with easily triggerable PTSD who had just lost his family to zombies for the second time into starting a fight. Because he was injured, unarmed, weak, down an eye, and 50, while she was fit, mid 20s, healthy, and armed with a hunting knife. Because she wanted an excuse to kill him without looking bad, because she wanted the 11 year old girl she was co-parenting with him, all to herself. And her immediately responding to the dude throwing a punch by stabbing him in the stomach to escalate the fight from brawl to life or death, then losing her knife, and instead of telling him the baby was alive & she’d made it up to start a fight which could have at any point ended the fight, begging the 11 year old child to gun down her oldest surviving friend with her own hands in cold blood so that she’d get what she wanted? Is evil. As is crying on the 11 year old and using pity as a weapon to get her to stay with her if she gets mad and wants to leave when she realizes Jane staged the whole thing for an excuse to murder, and so is after realizing like a month later that she is pregnant, committing suicide, and leaving the 11 year old that she just manipulated into killing her oldest surviving friend/completely isolated on purpose so she could have her to herself, totally alone in the apocalypse to care for an infant. Jennifer’s Body? Is a fantastic film. And Jennifer didn’t deserve any of what happened to her. But not one single boy she kills during the course of that film deserved it—and explicitly so. Even the guy who could easily have been a meathead jock bully is outside alone crying becuase his best friend just died and he loved him before she decides to lure him off and eat him alive. And acting like it’s totally fine & Needy should have just let her keep eating boys instead of killing her? Is fucked up. None of them deserved to die. And no one deserves death innately more because they are or are not something that is just a factual designator of their makeup as a human. The exchange student was scared and alone and nice, the catholic kid was sweet and Needy’s friend, Chip is a bad boyfriend but he meant well and being stupid doesn’t mean you deserve to die. And this girl ate them alive. That’s not funny. Or cool. Or fine becuase they were dudes. Gertrude Robinson? Chose again and again to betray people who loved her, or trusted her—sold out victims of awful trauma to their worst nightmares. Killed friends in the worst possible ways, like it was nothing. Michael loved her, and trusted her, and tried to care for her, and she without faltering fed him to his worst nightmare and forced him to become it. There is nothing excusable about that action.

Jude Perry? Has 0 redeeming features. Didn’t even stay faithful to her poor gf & was creepy obsessed w Agnes. Literally murdered her co-worker friend just because he was happy, and she wanted to destroy things: that’s it. She didn’t even dislike him. Murdered him because he had a wife and kid and house and it seemed fun, then burned down his house, took his wife’s money, and now checks in on his kid every so often in case he ever recovers from the trauma she inflicted enough to be fun to kill. There is literally nothing good about this woman. Yes. I mean that. Because being a lesbian? Is just a thing. There is no g/b tag, there is no tag at all. Amanda Young? Got kidnapped and tortured and forced to choose between killing a man who couldn’t resist but was conscious to watch her, and letting herself die, and she killed him. Then, instead of responding to that trauma with guilt or responsibility or anger at her captor, joined up with him and started helping him kidnap people just like her. She was not forced, she was not lied to. It does not matter if John was manipulative; she is a grown ass woman and like all grown ass adults, responsible for her own actions and choices. She did not get manipulated pitifully into this—she did not go unwillingly. She volunteered, with a happy vengeance, became obsessed with John and in love with him, despite his complete lack of interest. And she did not even just do what he did. She decided on her own that no one deserved redemption, & she killed them for fun in traps that wouldn’t let them go even if they did whatever awful thing the trap demanded as a price for life, just for the fun and power trip of watching them die helpless & in agony. That was all her, & her alone. She sat in a house full of people slowly dying from organ decomposition over the course of a few hours, for no crime worse than drug addiction—the thing she of all people should have been most sympathetic to—knowing full well at any time she could have saved them and stopped the game, and did nothing. She held a woman in her arms and stroked her head lovingly while she let her die in one of the most inhumane ways possible for the crime of having not been able to break an addition. She got saved by a 16 year old child multiple times, who had done nothing more than shoplift, and stood by while he had to watch a man get his brains blown out, another burn to death in an oven. As his organs slowly dissolved too. Watched the kid kill another human being & massively traumatize himself to save her life. And responded to that by attacking & knocking him out, tying him up, locking him up for days in a tiny safe bound and gagged with an oxygen supply to keep him alive, to be a piece in another game. Left his father, who had shown up to try & save him, to starve to death in chains in a horrible abandoned rotting room, & never even told him his son was alive. Let every other addict die horribly, let that kid sustain permanent damage to his organs that will kill him young, antidote taken or not, took his dad from him, & went back to torturing without a second thought. Kidnapped a woman whose worst crime was being a doctor & dating someone while maybe separated instead of divorced from her husband, put her in a trap that would take her head off with shotgun blasts, threatened her for fun, & then killed her even after she did everything she was asked, because it was more important to her that the old man she was obsessed with think she was special and great, than for the other woman to get to stay alive another day & go home to her daughter. There is nothing sympathetic about Amanda. She’s just not only evil, but too spineless to take responsibility for her own choices & actions, & tries to hide behind a “UwU I am sad & lonely & damaged & having trauma means I can literally torture people to death to feel special & it’s really tragic and sympathetic about me, not evil. Uhm. Some people??? Commit torture-murders?? To cope??” And acting like she’s somehow a victim in this becuase she is a pretty white girl with short hair? Is fucked. Up.

But every. God damn. Time. I see this. Please. It needs. To stop. People go: “UwU pretty girl short hair want” & I go “Ok. I see where u. Come from. Indeed.” But then. They go. “Girl pretty I like. So she was blameless. For this atrocity.” Those words...

Every day. I wake up. Thinking of Janic saying. Iconically. “At least me and Regina George know we’re mean,” and I weep inside. Because I cannot fathom. Or stomach. The lack of responsibility. I will kill. Characters who cannot admit they are bad. Myself. But somehow. They become. Flames. To moths. Of the “UwU pretty white girl short hair. We stan. Victim. Queen. Love her. Never done wrong.” Boy. We all done wrong. Even all my faves. At least once. I think. ...not if we count dogs probably, but people, yes. Ok. Anyway. All this is to say. Characters. Should be judged. Based on what they did. And why. And the aftermath. Not a grouping tag. I don’t mean any of these. Make bad characters. At all. Amy is a great character. So is Jennifer. So are most of them. I have quite affection even. For Jeneffer specifically. But you can like. Character. Without proclaiming. Them perfect humans. Who never did a thing wrong. Or their acts somehow. Justifiable. And ok. And you better stop saying. Ok. Because done. To men. Men do not. Deserve violence. Any more. Than anyone else. No one deserves violence defacto for factors. Outside their control. Wtf. Really people. It’s ok too. For character. To do much bad stuff. And still like character. Villains. And often just complex characters. Sometimes just characters. Do stuff. That is bad. It’s not supposed to be not their fault. Or ok. Also. Women are not a sisterhood. Of flawless beings. Who never hurt anyone or do any bad stuff. They can. And are. Often purpotrators. Of awful acts. And when they are. It is still. Very bad. Still. An awful act. Same level. Even. Of awful. Wild.

In conclusion.

Having short hair. While a girl. Doesn’t make her a butch queen. Who is absolved of all responsibility for that murder she committed. It just makes her a girl with short hair. That did a murder. I’m gonna. Kill someone. Too. And if I chop my hair off. I guess I can get away with it.

[demethinkstoomuch]

Learning to Read, pt 3: C is for Commendation

Chapters: 3/26 Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro Characters: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dedue Molinaro, Gustave Dominic, Original Characters, Rufus Blaiddyd Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon Compliant, Grief, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Tragedy of Duscur, Racism, Developing Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Blue-Lions Typical Mental Illness

Summary:

A series of 26 alphabetically-titled vignettes examining the period where, in the wake of The Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri taught Dedue to read: a time in which they learned about each other, and the rules of their relationship, perhaps more than about books.

Read on AO3!

A is For Ambiguity

B is for Book

A Note Concerning this Chapter: While some might not find this worth warning over, I thought better safe than sorry and wanted to say that this chapter features some approximately canon-style racism. There's no perfect way to skip it, but an audience member wanting to skip for now regardless would do well to read the first few paragraphs and ctrl+F to "He did the only thing he could." 

C is for Commendation

Dedue tried to stand tall under the low-burning heat of gazes seen and unseen. On the other side of the doors to the throne room waited Dimitri, prepared to hear Dedue’s words and accept his loyalty. In front of a medley of rich Faerghus witnesses. He could hear their murmurs through the door, moving like a wind through trees. 

It was important that this be seen and understood; otherwise, it was no different than the promise Dedue had already made inside his heart in the very moment Dimitri had reached out his hand. Even if no one heard it, that promise was what mattered to him. But words unspoken couldn’t mean he was accepted at the side of the Prince of Faerghus. For that, they needed something everyone could see –  In Faerghus, such oaths had weight. Maybe even enough to silence the whispers of the knights who were watching him, aligned in one column before each side of the door.

“This is going to be a mess,” whispered a knifelike knight, whose steel blue hair matched his armor so perfectly that, to Dedue’s eye, it looked as if the armor’s material had been chosen for it –  beautifully-made armor with no traces of hammered-out dents or scuffing. He continued at a clear voice, ”A Duscur hayseed couldn’t possibly understand courtesy. Look at him.”

Dedue couldn’t help but turn down his gaze, turn inward, swallow a breath gone cold and still in him. The longer he looked around, the more he might agree. The day didn’t call for armor –  but he couldn’t afford it or make it if it did. He came in a borrowed white tunic, in borrowed pants, to stand bare-headed in a place that gleamed with gilt and bristled with spears. The knights had seen a million ceremonies like this one –  the only novelty here was this awkward peasant from a town between the forests and plains of Duscur. From a ruin, now.

“You’re thinking about it too practically, Carston. There’s no such thing as too poor for a commendation, really; what matters is the oath well-made, and the service faithful,” commented a fair-haired knight in a reasonable tone. This provoked a forlorn sigh from the only member of the column Dedue had seen before today –  Gustave, an older knight who Dimitri seemed to trust a great deal. Amid the glitter, that knight seemed shabby, tired, old. But the younger men around him hardly noticed. “You have to remember what they say about His Highness the prince: he’s got a strong sense of compassion. I think it’s admirable, a lord who can have pity.” 

The knight’s last words were very much the truth. Perhaps they all were. If he could manage an oath well-made, it would be enough. He needed only repeat it and hold it inside himself. He kept his eye contact only with the stone floors underfoot, worn hazy grey-white and soft-edged by time and ages of footsteps. But the rabbit of his heart was running faster and faster. He could do nothing about his background, his station. He could do little for his appearance he hadn’t already –  hair pulled back in a tidy knot, clothes and skin clean. He was scary-looking and tall, even for someone from Duscur. He didn’t know if that was for or against him, as a fighting man. And he could at least fill the role he wished for; he had no doubt of his faith. 

"I promise on the goddess that I will in the future be faithful to my lord, never cause him harm, and will observe my homage to him completely, against all persons, loyally and without deceit."

They’d laid out those words until late the night before. There were words Dedue had learned just to say that phrase in Fodlani. An oath to Fodlan’s goddess wasn’t special to him, but it wasn’t for her. It only needed to reach the people in that room without embarrassing anyone. He’d hold out his hands, and Dimitri would accept them in his (they’d needed to wait until his left arm was healed enough to be used lightly for this) –  and then things would be settled. The words, mincing shadows when cast against the truth, sank down his throat.

“So you’re not worried about what having a vassal like that will do for his image, Henri? Or ours?” Asked Carston, more low now. Almost actually attempting to whisper.

“What concerns us is our own liege, not his nephew,” replied Henri. “There’s hardly anyone left from the king’s own service for His Highness, the poor prince –  it’s not surprising that it can’t get filled with the sort of quality it had before.”

Patience . He tried to think it over their words. His hands tensed into each other, digging in their nails. Those hands had to be good enough. He only needed to be calm.

“And whose fault is that?” Asked a third knight grimly. Older than the first two, but not old, a sharp white scar eating up one cheek. 

“They’ll pay,” came a voice Dedue couldn’t place, low and slow and thoughtful. “I wish we could join the marshaling at the border.”

What had happened that day. It was still not over. It was building, catching its breath, becoming a war built on massacres. Patience , thought Dedue above the sound of flames that met his falling heart. Over the sound of steel that still was not silenced. He got so little news, and yet, each piece was a beast to tear his heart.

“I hope by the time His Lordship allows us to go, they’re not already totally crushed.” Carston lifted a hand to his sharp, jutting chin. “I’d like some decoration if it’s war, at least… But I can’t imagine there’d be a worthy fight to be had from hicks, so is there really a point?”

“Of course there is. His Late Majesty’s blood is still on their hands. Even if we never served His Majesty, we’re knights of Faerghus,” said Henri, almost gently. “We know our duty, even if we’ll never see reward or praise.” 

“Then how can you look at what His Highness is doing and not feel ashamed?” Carston shook his head. “A peasant alone would be a poor –  ahaha – enough choice… Has he gone mad?”

While that sickening laugh crept into Dedue’s bones, the voice that had sighed stirred from the front of the column at last. 

“Do not insult His Highness,” Gustave’s voice sounded so tired that whatever his real age was might have been doubled. He was still sturdy-looking, still in fine shape, still carrot red in all his braided hair. His armor had seen more than its share of battles, though, and the places where the hammer or solder had been applied to help ease its scars were clear. The marks of age on him weren’t vast –  but they were overwhelming. His lined face felt like it had been not so much worn into him as cut. His posture had something weakened running through it, a weariness that kept him from fully lifting his head. His eyes, which were in color bright, seemed dull and listless as a dead fish. 

Dimitri had trusted this Gustave with making sure Dedue had what he needed and was not forced to leave. Gustave had answered that without comment or complaint. And now, he said what Dedue wanted to say, what Dedue could not say. But if he couldn’t say it, what was the point?

“Don’t be so arrogant. There is no knight alive in this kingdom who should hold up his head,” Gustave pronounced. “We have all failed His Majesty and His Highness.”

“And letting this pass by silently will help?” Carston’s voice actually lifted now above the not-truly-a-whisper.

“Have a little pity, Carston,” Henri actually whispered in reply.

“You speak of pity, Henri?” The scarred knight did not look at anyone when he spoke. “What about pity for the King? To turn around and accept claims of ‘loyalty’ from one of the scum who killed Lambert –  to throw aside the honor of the royal family? To ruin his good name and good will that way?”

It fell like a veil over all the knights. Even the one who weren’t conversing, just listening. Even the ones in their own whispers. It was a punch to Dedue –  his patience sank, dragged down into the depths by those words, into a feeling so black he could not even say what it really was. 

The doors creaked open before he knew it. They all fell silent as the antechamber was struck with light. At the far end of the hall was Faerghus’ empty throne, shrouded in blue so rich it might well have been black. The shadow framed Dimitri’s bright hair, his pale skin, the flash of white ermine on the edges of his cuffs and cape as he stood before it, until he shone like a beacon. The great hall yawned between them like a pit, an aisle on either side of which stood a few observers, perhaps 25 people in whole, not counting the tall man with red-gold hair slightly to Dimitri’s side, his uncle Rufus. The knights fanned out to flank both sides in slow motion. The heads of the Faerghus courtiers, clad in deep colors and brocade, lined in felt and fur, poised and polished, all turned, their chuckles silenced.

Dedue came to a stop before he crossed the threshold. He stared into the crowd as his heart, his breath, his nerve all sank to the bottom of the world. Their gazes were knives sharpening themselves on his skin, his clothes, his face –  burning cold, identical no matter whose face it was. Butchered by them, he understood – everything the knights had said was written on these faces as they watched this Duscur hayseed, scum and regicide, who’d demand their prince throw away his honor out of pity. Nothing could ever change this.

 And Dedue couldn’t find what he was supposed to say. He couldn’t find anything but a suffocating ash in his core; ache and flames and the clang of steel blotted out anything else in the world.

He did the only thing he could do for either of them: he turned and ran, footsteps resounding. Even Dimitri’s sad voice at his back was swallowed by the sounds of an inferno in him. That plea couldn’t fix things; somewhere along the line, he’d been tricked into believing it could. What had he been thinking?

There was nothing that could wipe away the differences in his blood.

He tore through a blurring maze of grey stone, pushing himself through doorways until he broke from the stifling warm air, hitting the wall of bright, cool spring beyond. 

There was nothing that could make him anything but an uneducated peasant.

He kept going, but there was no running from his own failure; he knew he couldn’t run and run and become someone who hadn’t just run away.

There was nothing that could make him not too foreign, too poor, too pitiful, to do anything but shame someone so precious.

He was out of air to run with, so when he hit true silence, he came to a stop in some corner below the walls. The garden here was old, gone wild where no one had noticed, hidden between layers and gaps in the castle walls and old buildings. His legs dropped out from beneath him there amid wilting white roses and the rustle of tall grasses.

There was nothing he could do to make the life he was given worth something, after all.

Whatever dam stood between his heart and the world crumbled with the rest of him. Now he cried; not quickly or loudly, but in quiet, rolling tears where his breath was slowed almost to the point of being held; it came out with a tremor he felt rather than heard. He curled in on himself, cursing himself in every breath.

Time could have stopped until another figure entered the garden through its only open entrance, a gap in the walls. Dimitri picked his way closer to Dedue’s figure slowly, brushing aside a vine of overgrown roses, already ready to lose petals. A pure and simple sorrow overcame the worry on his face as he lowered himself to the grass by Dedue. His cape surrounded him in a puddle of cool purple that he tugged about him as he thought about what to say.

“I’m sorry, Dedue. I’m so very, very sorry.” Dedue didn’t know how to respond to that. He should be the one apologizing, but he couldn’t begin to say it. “I should have thought more about how you’d feel.”

“No.” At last, he’d gotten a grip on his tongue. “I am sorry. I...ran away from my promise. I embarrassed you.” He didn’t look to his side to see Dimitri or reveal his own tear-stained face. He simply couldn’t, even if the breathlessness in his voice gave it all away.

“I was far too thoughtless.” Dimitri twitched his cape aside to pick at the grass between them, taking up a handful. The blades flitted down under fidgeting fingers. He sighed.  

“I needed … to do better. I should not have been… frightened. That is my fault.” Dedue insisted, now lifting up his head. There wasn’t a lick of anger or disappointment on Dimitri’s face –  only a softness that opened wider as he saw the paths tears had washed down Dedue’s face.

“Dedue…” a soft murmur moved the air. Dimitri turned himself wholly to face Dedue. Dimitri’s hand still could reach out and rest itself on Dedue’s slumped shoulder. “I’m not hurt; you are. So, please, tell me what happened.”

“It was nothing… Nothing happened.” Dedue looked away. He shouldn’t think there could be something like this touch, some bond between them –  not when in its place there were the miles between Fhirdiad and Duscur stood between them, the soldiers preparing further reprisals, further blood, further fire. But his shoulder didn’t move to shift off Dimitri’s hand; its weight shifted the scales, threw Dedue’s judgement off its balance. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that.” 

“...People spoke, that’s all.” Dedue shook his head, causing the faint clink of his earring to rise above his small voice. Dimitri leaned forward to grip Dedue’s gaze in a vise of vivid blue. “About my background. About Duscur, and… about you.” 

“What about your background?” Dimitri’s voice hinted at stormclouds as his posture locked stiff with indignation. 

“It was…nothing I did not know.” Dedue wasn’t lying –  but he hadn’t entirely seen it that way before then, hadn’t been paying attention. He wrestled for a moment –  to tell Dimitri what they had said of Dimitri’s pity, or not? Dimitri’s gaze did not release him; so, his words limped onward. “...But it made me think about… Everything. I was not able to be calm.”

“Everything...” Dimitri sounded thoughtful, but didn’t wait for an answer; he knew it. All the better –  Dedue didn’t want to have to explain it. Everything was everything that had happened. Everything was that day, and all the ways it still lingered. The way no one would let it end. “I admire how calm you are about it, really. I, well, I’m not sure I have the strength.”

“You do well. It is...an effort, sometimes.” He shook his head, sighing. “It wasn’t enough. I could not help you.” Those weren’t the right words, but he was tired of fighting for them.  He wanted someone to understand what he meant. he missed his sister, who always understood, without even a word -- and when someone didn’t, she’d tell them.

He missed his sister.

“Dedue, I’m not bothered, not really. I’m OK.” Dimitri insisted, giving Dedue’s gripped shoulder a shake strong enough to move Dedue’s entire body with it. Dimitri smiled sheepishly and kept talking, “I do admire that you can be calm, but if anyone has the right to cry until his tears have dried, isn’t that you? It’s OK. You don’t have to be calm now.”

All the breath was gone from Dedue at once. 

In the next moment, the cool air nipped as his wet eyes. A tremor ran through him, released from some place locked in his heart. Dedue wanted to deny it after that silence, or to thank Dimitri for that –  and couldn’t, not even for a moment, make an effort at it; all that came out was a faint noise too thin for his chest or throat, something that came from the top of his head or the back of his neck. Instead of words, he unfolded to reach over and grab Dimitri, pulled him over into his arms.The momentary brace of shock filtered out of Dimitri’s figure. So close there on the ground, Dedue could hear the little sound Dimitri made as he settled into the hug, and steadied his arms around Dedue’s back. The tears rolled without restraint down his face once more — but this time, they landed on Dimitri’s shoulder, where Dedue had buried his head. Like that, Dedue could catch himself –  but he didn’t, not immediately. They sat in this hollow of walls and in the vast, clanging ache at the base of Dedue’s heart.

But he couldn’t push away the world forever. Couldn’t deny the truth forever, however nice it had been to simply be; he separated himself, bending grass and Garland Moon wildflowers to make a distance between them again. Dimitri didn’t fully withdraw –  his eyes pleaded for something. Dedue kept going.

  “I saw in their eyes… Under their looks, I knew how little I was. I couldn’t do anything. I cannot move in your world, Dimitri.” The wind filled the silence, blowing with the promise of sweet summer. The roses that climbed the walls around them trembled, sending petals tumbling down, dotting their shoulders with a perfumed rain. Dimitri’s posture fell down with them and with Dedue’s speech dropping onto him. He finally couldn’t look any more –  his hands clutched at nothing from a resting place atop his knees.

“I don’t see you that way. No one should.” What people should or shouldn’t do didn’t matter –  those were just kind words. But Dimitri pressed on. “Give me names, and I'll — I'll think of something to say to them."  Dedue shook his head. Remembering their words, he doubted anything Dimitri could say would do anything but hurt his 'image.' It was more trouble than it was worth. Dimitri lowered his head, ashamed. "...I’m sorry for not thinking about how hard it would be, to have to be something for everyone as the center of attention, somewhere so different from your home.”

“It’s not their attention that stops me… Not only their attention,” Dedue corrected himself. “I have nothing. I know nothing of Faerghus’ honor. I couldn’t even keep my promise long enough to make it. I failed you.” There was no single word to end that sentence, though — he had failed Dimitri. He had failed everything he had in the world. He may well have failed whatever god had chosen him to be the one given his life that day. And harder to mention, because it felt so selfish to say, “...I failed myself.”

Dimitri tilted his head while his thin face, drained white as the petals interspersed across his purple cape and golden hair, knotted with concern –  and with thoughtfulness. To answer that silence, regardless of whether he could stay here, Dedue reached over and gently brushed some of the roses off of Dimitri’s shoulders. Dimitri followed Dedue’s hand with his eye, not refusing the gesture. But he waited for it to finish, and for the air to lull still when the wind died.

“...And if you had another chance, is that still something you want? To swear such an oath, I mean.” 

Dedue started, eyeing Dimitri, whose face was so earnest that Dedue couldn’t read what he wanted. He nodded. 

“But that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. I don’t think you’ve failed me! I don’t want you to feel you’ve failed yourself.”

“That does not change what happened.” Dedue didn’t see the point in such a thing. Even if it was nice,

  “It changes what can happen!” Dimitri insisted hotly, before his tone softened, grew warm rather than burning. “I know I might be asking a lot, but if we thought of what you could do, and find ways to lighten or avoid the rest, and tried to walk forward little by little…” Dimitri righted his shoulders and spine, lifting his chin. But even if the rest of his face tried to hold itself proudly, his eyes were so soft then, soft and blue and open as the sky overhead. “No matter what anyone says, I think that’s enough. If you chose to offer me something… I would accept you.”

The prince reached out his hands, together but open. A space between them waited to hold Dedue’s hands. For a moment, Dedue didn’t understand; when he did, he still wasn’t sure that he was right. If this was right. There was a limit to what could happen –  however disappointing, there were still things no one could change. Even knowing that, would this be alright? He carried the question in his eyes, his fingers curled and hesitating. He couldn’t remember what to say – no. Those simply weren’t the words he needed now. And he saw an answer, still carried in those outstretched hands. 

“I never want to hurt you,” Dedue advanced his words cautiously, almost a question. When Dimitri nodded slightly, something in him buoyed up on a gently rolling sea. “I never want to run like that again… But to always stand by you, to help you in any way I can. I wish to protect you faithfully, no matter what I must face.

“You saved more than my life.” The sorrow had melted out of his voice, and he met Dimitri’s gaze with resolve. If Dimitri said they could move forward –  then no matter what he feared in his heart, he’d believe it. If he stopped, if he didn’t believe in the world Dimitri could show him, the world that still had mercy and kindness in it, even for him, then why had he come this far? If he wasn’t ready to stand by Dimitri now, he would keep trying until he became ready. If there was nothing to make him, he'd try for the rest of his life.

So he placed his hands into Dimitri’s — for a moment, those fingers which held him like a treasure could keep out the world. They seemed so small against his hands, but they were so warm. There was nowhere he would not go for them, and nothing in him they could not reach. 

“I swear, I will always believe in that.”

Dimitri blinked, his lips parted from slack shock. Before Dedue could wonder how much he’d overdone it, Dimitri smiled, face graced with a little pink flush.

“That was a splendid oath! Wonderful, even!” Dimitri answered in beaming tones. He chuckled, his hands shifting over Dedue’s as if deciding when to let go. “It caught me a little off-guard,hearing something like that… I’ll do my best to live up to it.” He sighed, realizing what he hadn’t said — but he did so with the truest of his smiles, small and bright as candle-flame. “Forgive me; what I mean to say is… I accept your homage as my vassal, Dedue.”

“Hm,” Dedue could only nod, with nothing to say he hadn’t already said, and too choked up to try. No one spoke for a small while.

“I suppose that’s ceremony enough,” said Dimitri when he finally began to slowly surrender Dedue’s hands. The moment ended, not abruptly or coldly, but the simple passing of one thing into the next; Dimitri casually leaned back, propping himself up on one arm. He rotated his left arm slowly, feeling out its range of motion.

“..Is that so?” Dedue wasn’t nearly so convinced, even if he did appreciate that. However nice this was, however peacefully affirming, it wasn’t any different than it had been. “There was a reason for the original plan, wasn’t there?”

“There was, and it’s one that we can’t just leave be yet. I just think nothing good can come of hurting someone, so we’ll have to find some other way.” Dimitri nodded and lowered his jaw into his free hand. “Who could I ask… Rodrigue, perhaps, if I wrote him? He may know some method of legitimacy that involves fewer witnesses. Perhaps we’d only need the right ones with his backing.”

Dedue mentally flipped through the people who’d come to see Dimitri after he’d returned to the capital. It was a small list, but most of them hadn’t considered Dedue long enough, or at all, for him to commit them to memory. Then again. which somber man Rodrigue was might not have mattered, if he could help them.

“I hope so.”

They settled into a companionable silence; Dimitri stretched –  first his newly-freed arm, causing him to wince a little at the edges of its motion, then his other arm –  but the injuries on his back must still have hurt as well, because he stopped entirely with a shadowed look that soon faded. Dedue let his familiar calm slip about him comfortably as he cleaned off his face and brushed aside a few rose petals from his clothes. And then they both stopped to truly look around the almost triangular garden they found themselves in. An outer wall, an inner wall, and a building’s windowless wall formed tangents around each other, creating a small space, only opened by a gap in the inner wall and a small doorway into the building, which was sealed over with a hardy-looking shrub. The grass had grown long towards the coming birth of Faerghus’ bright, clement summer, and it was dotted with buds of wildflowers and a few perennials gone to seed. Mostly, it was roses that had gone wild, climbing up all the walls. It was, for a ruin, such a peaceful little place.

“How did you ever manage to find such a place?” asked Dimitri, looking up to where the roses climbed and tangled. “I needed more luck than anything to find you.”

“I am not sure where we are. I moved until I was done, that is all.” He hadn’t been looking for a place, but seeing it now, he felt two parallel thoughts: the first, it needed tidying; The second, though, made him smile a little. “...It’s very peaceful here.”

“Yes, it truly is; it’s rare to find somewhere so private, but I guess this little place has been forgotten altogether.” Dimitri sighed contentedly, then shook his head. A wistful look filled his eyes. “It might be selfish, but it would be nice if it could always be so.” Dedue nodded in response.

“Then we should go, before someone comes to find you.” Dedue had to admit, he didn’t want this moment intruded by someone who’d only scorn him –  or to lose a place like this as a refuge.

“I suppose so.” 

However, they lingered there for a while still, while the sunlight filtered down from over the garden wall. The air smelled sweet, and it carried no sound but a distant bird’s voice. It was still some time before they moved to rejoin the rest of the world.

[caroline18mars]

Into the night - Chapter 131

Jordan's eyes glazed over staring at the ring, it was the most magnificent piece of jewelry she had ever seen, “I'm so glad you really like that ring, I was so scared when you took it off this morning, I'm so sorry I fucked up, I can only hope you'll still marry me” he whispered in her ear as he crawled next to her in the hospital bed, being really careful with all the tubes coming out of her arms and chest that attached her to the machines, he just needed to hold her for a while and feel really close to her. “I'm not exactly in a position to make decisions or promises like that right now” she sighed “I mean I don't even know if I'll still be alive in a couple of hours, let alone if I'll be able to marry you, you and me..we're just..”, Jared could see the lines of her heartmonitor shoot up in long erratic peaks, the panic was taking over. “You and I are made for each other, we belong together, and yes we argue like many other couples I know, but we always find our way back to each other, don't we? You're the love of my life and my best friend, Jordan McLeod, you need to know that!” he whispered before he pushed a kiss in her hair, breathing a little more relieved when he saw the lines on the monitor go back down to normal. “I won't go back to all the arguments and the misunderstandings, Jay..I just won't!” she breathed as she crawled a little bit closer to him, “you won't have to, we won't have to, I promise, we'll have a normal life once you get that heart..” he started but she interrupted him with a giggle “normal? You and me? Normal? Come on, Jay, you know as well as I do that we'll never be normal, with your job? And the complete madness that surrounds you because of it? I'll never ask for normal because that's not what we are” her giggle died down “speaking of your job..there's something I want to ask you about that”. Jared pushed a kiss on her forehead and let her ask her question “I don't want you to put your career on the backburner any longer, I know you did it for..Charlotte at first and then me, but that has to stop, just promise you'll get out of that weird early retirement funk of yours and go back to acting or singing once this is..all over, you need to get back to  what you love doing instead of locking yourself up”. Jared felt his own heart burn, things were being said because time was ticking and she felt like maybe this was the last chance she would get to say them out loud “Alright, alright, alright! I will, ok? And the first show we play, you're gonna be front row and center, imagine that, your first Mars show ever, some call it an experience so you're in for a treat” he softly said with a smile. “Jay..” she got a little annoyed thinking he wasn't listening on purpose, “I heard you, ok? You're gonna be there with that new heart of yours, you have to focus on that” his voice resounding in his chest over that slow, steady heartbeat of his gave his voice a depth and a warmth she could listen to all day long. “I was never happier in my entire life than this last year with you..” she whispered and before the words could form in his head she put her hand on his chest “let me finish..I really need to say this” and lifted her head so she could look him straight in the eye. “If anything happens to me tonight..I want you to move on with your life, just like you did after Charlotte, I don't want you to stay alone, you deserve to be deliriously happy again with someone that will love you as much as you love her, because you've been through more than anyone could ever go through in life, all this suffering must end, Jared so please let it..let it end”. Jared started crumbling the minute her fingers reached for his face, carefully wiping the tears away “you're a good man, Jared, and you're gonna be the best father for Noah, I just know it, there's no safer hands I can put my beautiful boy in than yours, I know that ok? Promise me you'll tell him about James and Kirsten, I've written a letter for each of you with a lot of memories about James, maybe they will give him some of the answers to the questions he's likely to have..and tell him about his crazy aunt who will always love him, can you do that?” she gave him a faint smile. “Yes..” Jared hiccuped through his tears, unable to say anything else but knowing how important this was for her, “thank you” she kissed his forehead “I love you so much” and cupped his chin  to kiss his lips. “I love you too..you can't go, I can't lose you, I just can't lose you” Jared breathed, grabbing her head between his hands and deepened the kiss “you're all I'll ever want and you're gonna get through this, you have to” he mumbled through his tears.

Shannon tried to get through to Noah who sat on the couch of the waiting room, refusing to say anything, locked up in his own little world, his little hands trembling in his lap  “hey buddy, you hungry? We could go and grab something to eat”. Noah slowly lifted his head and glared at Shannon which broke his heart, he and this kid had always been thick as thieves and now that holy connection seemed broken, he clearly didn't trust him and his brother anymore. He had always thought that Jordan was exxagerating when she talked about how horrible she had felt the first few weeks after her brother died and she was left to take care of Noah, but he believed her now, the poor kid was traumatized..again..if he lost his aunt now, then he truly was alone, alone with nobody but strangers to look after him, everybody he knew and loved would be gone for good. “We can play cards while we wait” Shannon tried again but still no reaction, “ok then..well, what do you want to do..?” Bingo, Noah's head shot up, bright blue eyes drilling into his, still in complete silence but right now he was happy with any kind of reaction “or if you just wanna hang and talk a little, that's fine too” Shannon tried to open another line of communication but his heart plummeted again when Noah, looking pretty much fed up with him, turned his head and kept staring at the door again, server down, connection lost, login refused. “Mr. Leto? Can I talk to you for a second?” the nurse sweetly asked as she opened the door again and stood there waiting for him, “uhm yeah..” Shannon quickly looked at Noah, his heart breaking when he saw the boy nervously slide off the couch and then crawl back on when he realized it wasn't his name that was being called. “Is Jordan ok?” Shannon whispered as he closed the door of the waiting room behind him, “yes she is, your brother's still with her, we'll start prepping her soon for surgery so I was wondering if you would like to see her before we take her upstairs? There's still time but I can only allow one person at a time, we don't want to exhaust her too much” the young woman explained. “That'd be great, but..Noah, he..” he swallowed hard “could you..look after him for a second? Because I'm worried about him, he won't talk to me..to us..you see, his parents died in a car crash about a year ago and I think that..well you know, seeing his aunt in a similar situation, I think he's reliving that trauma and is in some kind of shock..it's just..he's scared and so alone..I love that little man so much and his silence is killing me” he stuttered, choking on his muffled tears. “I'll look after him, don't you worry..just try and keep the faith, we're doing everything we can..” she gently put her hand on his shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod when he looked up “I know..thank you” he took a deep breath, trying to regain his cool before he headed off to Jordan's room. Noah's head shot up when the door opened again, his little hand squeezing the arm of the couch when the nurse walked up to him, he stared at her with those big eyes full of pain and anxiety, “hey sweetie, you ok?” she sat down next to him and took his hand. The boy just shrugged but then the touch of her hand made his shoulders tremble, “it's ok sweetheart..it's ok to cry” no matter how brave he tried to be, holding back the tears was a lost cause, “I promise we'll do our very best to help your aunt, ok? I need to go and get her ready for her surgery later, and I don't know if she would like a blue or a red gown” she said in a warm voice holding up the two gowns “do you know if she has a favourite colour?”. Noah blinked rapidly “red, she likes red” he hiccuped through his tears pointing at the red one, “she does?! Oh, I like her already, red is my favourite colour as well!! shall we go surprise her with it in a minute?” the nurse enthusiastically asked. “Can we, really?” Noah nodded a little insecure, he had been promised so much today and barely anything had been true, he felt really alone and scared but he would never show it, never ever, what if he had to do everything on his own though if his aunt died? how would that be? Where would he go? Would he have to live here in hospital? He missed his aunt Jordan, she would know what to do, she was really strong, when his daddy died she had just picked him up and taken care of him, she was really, really smart! “of course we can, she'll be thrilled to see you! Why don't you tell me about your aunt, you must love her very much if you know so much about her”.

”Shannon, hey?” her soft voice greeted him the minute he walked in, he almost felt guilty for disturbing them  when he saw them cuddled up close on the bed, “where's Noah?” the lines on the monitor shot straight up again when her eyes started scanning for her nephew. “He's fine, the nurse is with him, I'm uhh..not interrupting something, am I?” he slowly walked up to the bed, Jared reluctantly pushed himself up and out of their embrace “I'll give you some space” he kissed her mouth, he knew that time was ticking and that it was his brother's turn to say their momentary goodbyes before they were going to prep her for surgery. Shannon sat himself on the side of her bed, taking her pale, cold hand in his “nervous?” he tried to start up a conversation but what did someone say in a situation like this?, “I've skipped that stage and gone straight to scared senseless” she squeezed his hand. “Hey, you're young and strong, you heard what that doctor said, they do this procedure all the time, just promise me you'll fight as hard as you can” he tried to sound all casual but his own heart was hammering in his chest, “I will..promise” her confidence quickly turned into biting her lip “if you promise me something too”. He knew what was coming, and even if he didn't want to hear it, he had to “anything, anything at all” he breathed, “Noah..I've done everything I could to raise him properly, you know that..but there are some things that I can't help him with, things only a man knows..we all know that growing up he'll need a man to talk to..will you help him with those things? Please? He looks up to you more than anyone” seeing her tear up, he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Count on it, I'll always look after him like he”s my own son” he whispered trying to push his own tears back, there was no way he was going to tell her about the tense situation with Noah right now, “good! Thank you” she sounded reassured “I love you, Shannon”, her words were so heartfelt he kissed her hand again “I love you too, and we'll all be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning, ok?”. Jared who stood at the door, like he wasn't ready to leave yet, heard a faint knock before the door opened again and the nurse walked in with Noah who let go of her hand and ran straight up to the bed.

“Gentlemen, I think we should give them a little bit of privacy, don't you?” the nurse said, Shannon nodded and picked up Noah “up you go, careful with those tubes” making sure to put him down in a safe spot away from the wires, before he got up and took his brother's arm who seemed reluctant to leave her again. “Are you feeling better?” Noah cuddled up to her, “absolutely, especially now you're here” she pushed her forehead against his and kissed the tip of his nose, “I've got a surprise for you, but you have to close your eyes” putting his hand over her eyes, he sat up a bit to grab the gown the nurse gave him. He checked if she wasn't cheating by pulling a silly face real close to hers “Ok! Open!”. Jordan blinked a few times to see him waving something red wrapped in plastic in front of her which made her a bit dizzy, “It's a gown, Noah picked the colour, he said red is your favourite colour” the nurse clarified seeing the confusion on Jordan's face. Brave, she needed to be brave about this because if she didn't then she would yank all these tubes and needles right out of her body and run away from this place as fast as she could, a heart transplant, live or die..“Oh pumpkin, that's really sweet of you and you even remembered my favourite colour” she put on her most surprised face to hide the cold sweat fear that almost paralyzed her. “It made me think of London when you and Jared went dancing and I had to stay with Nahla, you wore a red dress with that really wide skirt, remember?”, she knew exactly which dress he was talking about, her favourite dress, the mother of all red vintage dresses, the dress that had seen the birth of that first spark between her and Jared. “I want to go back to London with you” Noah said in a sad voice as he cuddled up to her, “I want that too, so so so much” the thought of maybe never seeing her real home again was simply unbearable “but..” she swallowed hard “I asked  Jared to take you to London if I..shouldn't make it”. To her surprise Noah didn't say anything, he just clung to her tighter, “you know that Jared bought our old appartment for my birthday, right? So, whatever happens, that appartment is yours ok? I hope that one day you'll get to live in it and you'll be as happy as I was when I lived there...Oh pumpkin, I wish I could see you grow up” she whispered all homesick and emotional. “Aunt Jordan, you can't say that, you have to go with me to London and you have to take me to school so you have to stay with me” Noah tried to comfort her. A couple of nervous beeps on the nurse's phone, popped their little bubble,

 “It's time, we should really start prepping you for surgery” the nurse calmly said as she put the phone back in her pocket, “wait..no, I'm not ready..I still need to..” Jordan's blood started running cold in her veins, it was too soon, she still needed to say a few things to Jared..Shannon, oh god no, just a few more minutes longer, she couldn't do this, she could NOT DO THIS YET, her thoughts started spiraling out of control. “Just calm down, we'll see to it that you'll get a little more time with them” she quickly pushed a sedative through one of the tubes “but right now we have to get you ready because I just got news that the donor's family signed all the legal documents, I'll just go take Noah back to your boyfriend and tell him the news, I'll be right back”. But she barely heard what the nurse said, why couldn't she be happier with this news? Because she knew that a family somewhere in this hospital was starting their time of mourning over a loved one? Because she knew exactly how that felt and it reminded her of losing James all over again?. “Mr. Leto” both Jared and Shannon's head shot up simultaneously as they heard their name being called “we just got the news that all legal documents are signed and we have a green light for the transplant, my colleague will help you get ready so you can follow us into the OR and be with her as she gets her anesthetic”. Jared felt his legs turn to jelly “she's getting the heart? She's actually getting the heart! Oh thank god! My girl's getting her new heart” he stammered as Shannon pulled him in for a hug.

[caticorn61]

Forget-Me-Not Part II

Summary: You could never forget him, but what happens when an accident causes him to forget you?

Genre: Angst (Chanyeol X Reader)

Word count: 2566

A/N - MERRY CHRISTMAS!! I hope you all enjoy this!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Beep. Beep. Beep.

At first the bright light of the hospital made your eyes ache but as they focused they felt like a miracle in and of itself. You were alive, to your surprise, and seemingly in one piece. You asked yourself routine questions, your name, your address. A sighed escaped your lips as you realized your sanity was still intact. You felt a little high, probably because of the drip in your arm. Your arm was set in a sling, your shoulder aching as you tried to move it. You wiggled your toes to check if they worked. All clear. Tears welled in your eyes. Your emotions from yesterday hitting you gradually, the realization of what had happened sinking in. You tried to raise your arms, but a sharp, intense pain, in your right shoulder prevented you from making it very far. You felt the bandaged area, unsure of what had happened, and sighed.

You laid back and closed your eyes, images or yesterday flashing dramatically across your eyelids. Chanyeol. His limp, bloody body, the last thing you remember and the only thing you could clearly see now, imprinted into you. You needed to know if he was okay. Was he alive? If so is he stable? Was he as worried for You as you were for him?

The door to your room creaked open slowly, Baekhyun’s eyes peering through the crack. You smiled and waved him in causing his eyes to widen.

“Oh my god, guys! She’s awake!” He yelled over his shoulder as he rushed to your side,“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Could be worse. My shoulder hurts like a bitch.” You say and try to sit up. “How’s Chanyeol?”

Baekhyun pushes you back, “He’s fine, he’s far better than you are. He woke up a few hours ago. I haven’t had much time to talk with him, the doctors have been examining him nonstop. With the way the car hit they are checking for head injuries.”

The others shuffled in one by one, Chen taking his seat to your left and grabbing your hand gently. Kai and Xiumin stood at the end of the bed and Kyungsoo stood in the doorway. You could feel the energy in the room shift. You felt warmer and safe knowing they were here.

“Sehun, Lay and Suho are waiting for Chanyeol in his room, they said they’d be down once they have news.”

“What happened?” You manage.

“A drunk driver hit you, mainly your side, it caused the car to flip and now here you are.” Chen said. “You have injuries to your shoulder mostly, they did surgery on it. Aside from that you have a pretty nasty cut on your leg and a few others on your thigh.”

You nodded. Chen drew calm circles around your hand and you noticed you weren’t wearing your ring.

“Where’s my ring?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat. You’d be damned if you had lost it.

“The doctor gave it to me to hold onto.” Baekhyun said as he pulled it from his pocket. The small band was in pristine condition. “Where did you get this?”

“Chanyeol gave it to me on our date.” A small smile grew on your face. You didn’t want to tell them of the engagement yet, not in a hospital bed. You wanted to tell them with Chanyeol but it killed you not to explode with the excitement you held. These boys were your family, they would be just as happy as you.

But you waited. You waited with them, discussing a lan of action. The two of you were to stay with them in the dorm again until you were capable of living safely on your own, since you worked with them and can’t drive with your arm impaired, they concluded this was the wisest plan. They had already talked it out and paid your rent for the next month.

“Thank you.” You say, “for everything. How did i get so lucky to have you all as my family.”

Chen’s lips curled sweetly, “You’ve always been there for us, how could we not be here for you?”

A doctor strutted into the room, eyeing you as he introduced himself. “Glad to see you are awake. You gave us a bit of a scare but you will be okay.” He shined a light in your eyes and examined your wounds. “You are not to use your shoulder for at least two weeks, at which point we will examine you again and see your progress. You will no doubt need physical therapy for it but you should make a relatively full recovery.”

A wave of relief came over the room, the others relaxing a little.  

“How’s Chanyeol?” You asked.

“He’s suffered some fairly minor injuries, his left wrist is fractured and he has a concussion, but nothing substantial. We are looking for any injuries to his brain function, memory and the like. He’s shown some issues in remembering little things and was a bit slow to recognize some of his members but time should heal him up. In fact he should be out of his final test if you would like to see him.”

You nodded and A nurse wheeled in a chair for you. Butterflies piled into your stomach. All you wanted to do was run to him, to hug him and never let him go. You knew he would hate not being able to work, you wanted to be there with him and help him through this.

Baekhyun pushes your chair, he made small talk as you made your way to him. You could hear it in his voice that he was worried.Chanyeol is his best friend, and one of yours too. To see either of you like this would eat him, even if you were going to be fine. You fidgeted your thumbs, the doctor's words weighing heavy on your mind. Even though he had reassured you, you needed to see him alive and smiling for the bloody picture to be replaced.

Chen pushed the door open and you heard them greet each other. The others followed closely after, you and baekhyun making up the tail end. You felt your heart skip when you saw him. Cuts and bruises splashed over his perfect face, his wrist in a brace but a smile never leaving him. He talked happily with the doctor and Suho, relaying New information between them on the tests and the results. From what you hear they won’t know anything for a few hours.

His eyes landed on you and he smiled. It was different. You couldn’t pin point why, but it made you nervous.

“Who’s this?” He asked innocently.

—

You shuffled into your apartment. You took a deep breath, having to continuously remind yourself that it was a necessity. Chen threw the keys into the counter and disappeared into the bathroom.

You looked all around your apartment mindlessly, as if you were searching for something, some form of comfort and reassurance that this was a dream and you were alive. You hadn’t felt alive in days. Not since then. You replayed the moment over and over and over until you fell asleep, every time your heart broke a little more. Each breath you took felt like salt in your already seething wounds. Every look you gave him dripping with fear and hurt but he never saw it. He didn’t look at you, not the way he used to. You avoided him when you could, party by choice and partly because the doctor wanted the two of you to rest. Despite this,the doctor also wanted you to be around him. He gave you guidelines to follow in order to help him remember. Be around him, take him to places he went with you but never verbally tell him. He didn’t want to force he memory since this is such a big part of his life, it could interfere with his overall healing.

He had explained that this can happen in patients who have suffered from a brain injury while in an accident as traumatic as this. His brain shut down everything related to the whole situation and forgot it. He didn’t remember the day, the car, the place. He didn’t remember you.

The doctor told you that in time he would most likely remember. He couldn’t tell you how long it would take and if it will come all at once or piece by piece.

You hadn’t seen Chanyeol since yesterday. Baekhyun had the duty of bringing him home from the hospital this morning and getting him settled into the dorm. You and Chen had the duty of packing your stuff and retrieving a few of the things Chanyeol kept here.

You say down at the counter and breathed in again. Mixed smells tumbled around you. Coffee, cologne and small subtle hints of life danced with them. Your eyes landed on the forget-me-nots he had given you, the petals wilting slowly, a few of them littering your countertop. The irony of them leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.You fiddled mindlessly at your ring, the metal almost burning its presence into your skin. You weren’t sure what to do with this small piece. You admired it again, an ache pounding in your chest as you remember the meaning and words that came with it. How could something made with so much love being so much pain?

“What see you thinking about?” Chen said as he took a seat beside you.

You chuckled dryly. “Chanyeol gave me this hours before the crash.” You said softly. “He took me to where he asked me out and asked me to be his wife.”

You looked at Chen as tears threatened to fall. His features softening as he traced your face, your name uttered under his breath.

“I was his fiancé for three hours. And now i am nothing to him.”

“That’s not true.” He said as he brought you close, “He is still there. He will come back. He might be dumb but the smartest thing he’s ever done was make you his girlfriend. Even he can’t forget the single smartest decision he’s ever made.”

You laughed and wiped tears from your nkw puffed eyes. “Just keep faith. He loved you more than anything and nothing will take that from either of you. He will come back.”

You sighed in silence. His words running through your head as you willed them to be true, to believe them even in the slightest.

Chen kissed your temple softly and patted your back. “Come on, let’s pack.”

You filled your suitcase with as many clothes as you could, picking out ones you could wear easily given your impaired shoulder. Chen finished packing before you did, everything Chanyeol left had fit comfortably in one duffel bag. It didn’t take long to get your things gathered either, mainly gathering enough to last you the next week.

By the time you for to the dorms you were more than ready to go to sleep. Your shoulder aching with every breath you took. You threw one of your bags into your bed,regretting insisting that you carried at least one of them. You massaged your neck, the tension only adding to your issues. Your head thumped, the pain in your body taking whatever energy you had left.

You sat on your bed and massages your temples, willingly you head to stop throbbing but to no avail. A tired sigh escaped your lips and you tilt your head back. You felt all of your emotions flying through your chest. You couldn’t pinpoint any single one, just one collective storm of confused pain. Is this what grief felt like? He hadn’t died, but yet it was as if your life was reset. You had lost your whole world in one night. The person you called home, your rock, he was your everything but to him now you were this person he was just supposed to remember. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t yours. It was the luck of the draw. Maybe god decided things were going too perfectly for you, maybe you did something and maybe it’s just how the cookie crumbled. It didn’t change reality but it didn’t stop you from trying to rationalize it.

You wondered what the next few days would hold. You wondered if those days would become weeks or if those weeks would become months or years. If they would become the new reality. You wondered if someday no one would remember what you had. The idea made you sick. You rubbed your face. God how long had it been since you showered? You opened your suitcase, deciding a shower would do you some good. You took out a loose shirt, forgetting a bra entirely,not wanting to try and get it over your shoulder, and picked your favorite socks and a pair of sweats.

You heard him as you walked out of your room. His stance comfortable and his aura as bright as always while he chatted with Suho about something he saw online. It was as if nothing changed.

“How are you feeling?” Suho asked quickly, his caring nature kicking in.

“Exhausted. I'm going to take a shower and sleep.”

“Mm, it’s open, do you need any help with your shoulder? I can call Lani.” He said. Lani was one of the other makeup artists and one of your closest friends. She was reliable in every way, always kept you up to date in the hospital and promised to cover your shift until you cold come back.

“She’s at work,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Suho asked again, “i won’t be here Incase you get hurt, i have a meeting.”

“I’ll be here.” Chanyeol spoke up suddenly. You looked up in surprise. You honestly expected him to avoid you if anything. Suho looked at you, an expression you couldn’t read plastered on his face. “If she needs me she can yell and i can help somehow.”

Suho looked at you, waiting for your approval. He knew this whole thing had to be hardest on you. You knew he felt bad he had to leave.

You gave a small smile and nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

Suho relaxed a little. “Well alright then, I’ve got to get going. Call if you need anything okay?”

You both nodded and waved him out.

The two of you stood in silence. This is the first time you had been alone with him since the accident. The air around you was still. You avoided his eyes at all cost even though you could feel his on you. You knew if you looked at him you would break.

You shuffled in place, “Uh, I… better take a shower.” You stutter and strut awkwardly past him.

“Wait.” Chanyeol said, his good hand rubbing the back of his neck. You stop and turn to him, accidentally making eye contact. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were the same. He was the same. Somehow that hurt more. “I know that I’m supposed to remember you. I’m supposed to just remember on my own and i know no one can tell me anything about you. I’m doing my best to remember. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

—

[bluebxmfing]

Going off of the other grey guy- Why all DOES your Kurt have PTSD, depression, etc?

If you know anything about mental illnesses like those you’d know that they are trauma-based. Well, Depression and Anxiety don’t have to be but are in a lot of cases.

Honestly it’s kind of.. Obvious why? Let’s, real quick, list off shit that Kurt has gone through in the different verses I use ^.^Keep in mind that the notes with * mean that he was a child/young adult at the time. I’ll explain why that’s important below the cut. 

These are all canon things that have happened. Non-canon ones (Or at least unconfirmed ones) might be listed later if y’all really want them.

Ok so in my couple years of therapy now I’ve learned some things. One of which is the fact that something you didn’t even know could have been traumatic could have very well had an affect on you. Repressed memories are serious business and sometimes shape people in ways they didn’t know.Triggers can be fucking anything if your brain tries hard enoughUntreated mental illnesses are incredibly serious, especially when caused by violent trauma.And those things aren’t even specific to traumas happening as a child.Trauma of ALL KINDS happening at ANY age should be taken seriously. It’s still trauma. However, children are still at a point in their life where their brain is figuring shit out.So human brains soak up everything around them as kids. It’s how they learn and grow. If the stuff you give the kid to soak up is bad, they will be mentally fucked up in comparison to others. Keeping that in mind, with this helpful list? It should be clear why he definitely has PTSD.I’ll even specify which ones are tied to depression, anxiety, and Trauma!Side note Kurt might also be alcoholic if you think about it.

Anyway onto the list.

Even Angels Have Scars:*

Well the priest tried to burn him alive in a house the day he was born (Trauma)

Frequently called demon (Depression, Anxiety)

Kept from the outside world most of his life (D, Can have extremely detrimental effects on mental health especially as a child)

Got a crush on a girl who then tried to rip his ears off thinking it was a costume (D, A)

Accused of R/ ape (A, T)

Chased down with guns (A, T)

Stalked/taunted/harassed by Azazel most of his life (A)

Beaten half to death (T, A)

Death (T, D, A, Other potential disorders from that tbh)

Quasi-Mind control into ritualistic self harm (A,T)

Doubt of his faith, one of the most important aspects of his life in that verse. (D)

Movies

  -X-2

Captured by Stryker (T)

Tortured (Probably experimented on (T)

Electrocuted frequently by a shock collar (T)

Beaten frequently by guards (T)

Mind controlled by Stryker (T, D)

Mind controlled into attempted murder (T, D)

Shit tons of self harm though it’s never confirmed when or why it happened.*? Also his backstory is still a mystery in most of the movies aside from he was in some kind of circus. (D)

Struck by lightening in a church (A, D, T?)

  -Apocalypse*

The general stuff with him being hated for his image (D, T)

We still don’t know when those self harm scars happened but he’s like 17 here soooo (D, T)

Captured and forced to fight other mutants to the death (T) -Also kept in what looks like a toy chest with an electrical field around it (Would definitely be cause for something like Claustrophobia later in life)

Electrocuted some more due to the cage around the death matches (T)

Finally set free but is set free into an apocalypse (T, A)

Sees an explosion that normally would mean lots of people are dead (A)

Is forced to put himself in a situation like that electric shock cage match again (T, A)

Gets to see a WHOLE BUNCH of dead people due to Wolverine (T, A)

Is thrown into more situations where he’s forced to fight (A, T)

Kills(?) Angel (D, A, T)

Has to teleport more people than he’s ever done before, potentially really hurting himself??? (A, T)

Comics that I’ve read

   -Mojoworld Origin comic*

Kept as a monster in a freak side show (T)

Kept in a cage (T, D)

Drugged (T, A, D, so many potential side effects)

Beaten (T, D, A)

Shot at (T, D, A)

Chased down (T, A)

He got Father Wagner killed (T, D)

  -Other

Literally thrown off a fucking cliff as a baby??* (T)

Brought up in an environment where he was taught he was a monster* (T, D)

Constantly called a demon or monster etc* (T, D)

Constantly and I mean CONSTANTLY chased down by angry mobs* (T, D)

Persecuted* (D, A)

Was forced to have to kill his own fucking brother (T, A, D)

Didn’t even MEAN to kill his brother (T, A, D)

Was accused of killing children (A, D)

Is constantly harassed because of the way he looks (A, D)

Lives in fear of what people might do if they see him (A, D)

I think I read somewhere that a Priest assaulted him??* Not sure about this one. (T, A, D)

IS KILLED LIKE 3 TIMES?? (T, A, D)

Comes back to life only to see his first love fucking die in front of him, followed by one of his closest friends (Logan) ALSO dying. (T, A, D)

“I turned my back on heaven for this shit. Talk about Hubris amIRIGHT” (D)

Bonus count for Electricity-based Trauma: 6

[coldtomyflash]

Have you ever done an analysis on how Barry feels about Snart, and the evolution of that from s1 to the s3 finale? Please ignore me if you have lol

Anon. Anon. Anon.

How have I never written an analysis on how Barry feels about Len? How did that get overlooked? *screams into the void* *puts down wine glass* *begins to think*

Okay I’m going to try to take my shipper goggles off for a hot sec and come to some reasoned understanding for how Barry’s feelings about Len are demonstrated and how they’ve evolved. Because honestly, even leaving those goggles off, the way Barry responds to Snart in canon is… unique, of all of his villains.

Let’s start with 1x04, Going Rogue.

There’s nothing special about their first meeting, at the armoured car, or their second, at the theatre, except that someone dies and Barry is pretty choked up about that, and also hurt by the cold gun. But so far that’s normal hero/villain interactions, insofar as things go.

Things change on the train. First off, this is Barry’s first time turning off the comms and going things solo (bad call, Barry). Second, we get this banter:

And Barry’s smirk in response? Just, he’s having fun. 

So at this point, the dynamic shifts a bit. So far Barry’s fought Clyde Mardon, Multiplex, and Nimbus, but this is the first time he’s faced off against someone where Barry feels like he’s ready to laugh and looks tempted to banter with them. Not to mention him making the joke about how they both have long/terrible names and learning other things about Len’s past that might give him a sense of mutual understanding. 

But of course, Len derails the train and Barry’s not laughing anymore. Especially when Len ices him and he almost dies. The fact that he doesn’t die, that Len doesn’t call Cisco’s bluff, might’ve helped Barry sleep at night. If, y’know, Len and Mick hadn’t turned around and kidnapped Caitlin shortly after.

Barry’s tempted that whole episode (1x10) to go after Len. He knows intrinsically that Snart is trying to draw him out. In that episode, Wellsobard tries to keep Barry focused on getting faster but Barry recognizes that Snart is trying to challenge him specifically and he can’t stand it, and eventually of course gives in to the challenge once Caitlin gets kidnapped.

So we see there that although Barry probably hates Snart, he also seems to understand him pretty easily. Knows what Snart is up to and wants from him, and doesn’t seem surprised that Len continues to escalate it until Barry rises to the occasion.

Of course at this point, there’s no love lost.

Dude is… hurting.

But. The whole precinct is abuzz with how the Flash is a hero and despite the hell that Barry went through to take Captain Cold and Heatwave down, he’s getting some of the recognition that we know (from his own lines in canon) that he’s been craving. So that’s nice. Inadvertently, Len gave Barry something he’s been craving. Barry’s going to have a positive emotional association with the outcome of this fight, probably. With beating them, with Eddie being there to help, with all the praise the Flash gets for it. 

So that’s churning away in his unconscious. Still, things don’t actually change on Barry’s side until 1x16. Not in any major way. Up until then, Len is a villain that Barry seems to have a pretty natural understanding of, but not someone he ‘cares’ about or would ever trust. 

So he readily heads to the casino to stop Cold and grabs Lisa without a second thought, pointing her own gun to her head (and why not grab Len? could it be to extend their game of cat and mouse? or is he more intimidated by Len?). But it’s when Barry learns her name and sees her face that things start to click: that she’s the woman he met with Cisco the prior evening.

(You can see the moment of realization on his face! #acting)

Anyway that conversation shifts things. Cisco’s life is in Snart’s hands and Barry happily encouraged Cisco to go with Lisa and he’s still reeling from the fact that he time travelled the night before and Iris has just rejected him so he’s just… all sorts of vulnerable right here. 

And what’s he got except hope that Snart won’t hurt or kill Cisco? He’s got… nothing. Except some manner of detente, maybe, because he knows that Snart must know that if Cisco dies, the Flash won’t stop until Snart’s behind bars. (So he’s relying on the fact that Snart will understand him as well as he understands Snart?)

But honestly, after the bomb incident with Caitlin, Barry is taking a bit of a leap of faith with Snart, here. I’m sure he’s terrified for Cisco, and feeling powerless. But then Cisco comes back safe (yay!) if somewhat traumatized and with his brother in need of serious medical care. 

And on some deep and instinctual level, there’s the instinct toward reciprocity that I think kicks in. I know it’s fucked up in this case, but it’s one of humankind’s more ingrained instincts. Len returned Cisco alive. He held up his end of that casino-conversation, so to speak. In doing so, he built some manner of trust between them, though I’m 100% sure Len wouldn’t have been aiming at building it. 

But now he knows Barry’s name. #yikes. So Barry chases him down. Again.

(I love Len what an asshole).

And then we have an impasse. And the nebulous things that have been building between them start to come to a head. Because Barry’s desire to banter with Len on the train got him burned because he took his time, and Barry’s attempt to ignore Len’s grabs for his attention got him burned again with Caitlin getting kidnapped. There’s no winning no matter what he does, but still, Barry came out intact from both of those situations, and so did everyone he cares about. Same deal with Snart having Cisco.

And that means that they’ve been matched fairly evenly. Len won one, Barry won one, they both made mistakes. Len developed a bit of an obsession with Barry that he can’t have missed, and Barry has an understanding of what makes Len tick and knowledge of that understanding isn’t lost on himself (it can’t be - he understood Len by 1x10 and it’s what allowed him, however fearfully, to place some trust for Cisco’s life in Len). 

So now, finally (already), here they are: an impasse. 

And the crazy thing is? They agree on terms. Just like that. Little to no debate. “Leave town” “no” “then stop stealing” “double no” “then stop killing (because it’s the only part of this i really care about and i’ll even appeal to your vanity because i understand you and how to butter you up)” “…okay sure fine whatever i’ll do it”.

And Barry doesn’t “Trust” Len yet. Don’t let me oversell that. 

He threatens him directly. But Len is smirking and saying like,

And Barry obviously doesn’t give him a ride but he is a little amused. He’s got Snart’s number, so to speak. The man is an asshole. A devious bastard. But not outright evil. Willing to wheel and deal and make some rules that mean he won’t hurt the people Barry cares about.

So despite not “Trusting” Len, whether he wants it or not, Barry does trust him with this. To keep his identity secret. To not kill people. He believes Len’ll do it. He has to, to make that deal. And every day that Barry’s identity isn’t threatened and people aren’t being killed by Captain Cold is another day that cements that trust.

Which leads him to this moment.

(excuse the crappy timing, it’s an old gif).

Barry gets this idea, in this conversation, to get Snart’s help with transporting the metas. And what’s fascinating about that is that Barry gets the idea right after saying that it’s okay to break the rules to help others. Why that makes him think of Snart is honestly a bit of a mystery but it’s important because of that. Somewhere in Barry’s mind is this idea that he’s different from the “Bad” guys, and what makes him different is his motives, and thinking of being “Not Bad” and having better motives makes him think of… Snart?

Honestly, Barr, honey, no. But at the same time, yes? 

And maybe it’s because of having to trust Snart with his identity in the way he has, or maybe it’s whatever he saw exchanging banter on the train, or the fact that Caitlin and Cisco both made it out (relatively) unscathed, or that Len readily agreed to stop killing – or maybe it’s even because Barry gets Len on some implicit level he hasn’t fully examined but empathizes with, even now – but whatever it is, it leads him to actually understand Len on a level deeper than most people who’ve ever encountered him. To understand this about Len, about his core self.

Because he trusted Len to help him when he asked, to set a fair price that Barry could pay, to keep him and his friends safe. And Len actually did all of that. Yes, Barry got a rude fucking awakening from Len’s betrayal. Like ouch. But Len saved Barry’s life, literally killed a man to do it, and sent the other metas on their way so they couldn’t cost the lives of any of Barry’s friends and family. 

Barry wasn’t right to trust Len with everything, but he wasn’t wrong in that Len would protect him and hold up that end of the deal. And he wasn’t wrong in knowing Len would agree when he appealed to his love of the city and the people there, either.

(mutual understanding intensifies)

And I mean, I have to point it out: I know it was down for visual effect but it was clearly a conscious decision to have Barry standing on the Rogues’ side in this scene:

Barry literally chooses to ally himself with Leonard Snart. That denotes trust and understanding and I think, honestly, somewhere under the “he’s such an asshole”, some level of mutual liking. He chose to go to Len, chose to try this out, agreed without blinking to destroy his records, fought Joe for Snart’s inclusion on the mission, and doesn’t even bother to suppress his amusement when Len’s all “after you” and he runs out of the lab? Despite himself, he’s got a soft spot for the guy, like I’m pretty sure.

But okay.

After all that. What’ve we got? 

A betrayed Barry Allen who tells Joe that he thought he could ‘use’ Len but he was wrong. A Barry who, despite being betrayed, still seems to agree that he owes Len his life? Like he acknowledges that Snart actually had his and the team’s backs when shit hit the fan, regardless of whose fault it was. A Barry who probably now believes he can’t trust his own feelings and sentiments about Snart because look where his sense of trust got him.

Basically, he’s a conflicted mess.

Flash forward a bit through his post-singularity survivor’s guilt and avoidance tactics to 2x03, Family of Rogues.

Lisa comes to the team and they hardly believe it. Barry’s like “yeah sure whatever” and agrees to check in on Len because Lisa brings up the life debt. And then we get this exchange.

Back to banter. Back to an impasse. “You don’t mess with me and I don’t mess with you”. Back to their Not-Trust pseudo status-quo.

Barry pushes a bit and Len keeps assuring him that he’s fine, then Lewis shows and and Len ices Barry and it’s like, Betrayal 2.0 written on Barry’s face.

(that’s gotta smart)

Anyway so Barry trusted Len again, sort of, or at least was Mildly Concerned about his wellbeing, and got iced for his trouble. And he’s kinda pissed and really about to tell Lisa where to shove it, but then she shows them her scar and tells them about her father and everything tilts on its axis. 

And Joe told Barry that Lewis would take out his anger on his kids. Barry knows that Len and Lisa didn’t have the best life. But either he forgot or didn’t realize how truly terrible their childhood was.

Because after that, he has zero complaints about helping. And he shows his understanding of Len’s psyche again when they find the headless Rutenberg. Barry knows that Len would rather dig out a bomb in his own neck than comply with Lewis’s demands, and is the one to figure out the bomb is in Lisa. Just like that. Because despite the betrayals and the (not entirely) misplaced trust, Barry still gets Snart, gets how he ticks.

So he pushes. And pushes. Because he understands now that Snart’s in trouble and that Barry has the means to help him and dammit, he’s going to help him. And I literally cannot help but believe that Barry wouldn’t push so hard except that he cares. He cares what happens here. He cares if Snart’s dad hurts him. He knows they’re going to save Lisa, that Cisco is working on it, so it’s not her he’s worried about. It’s Len. 

Well, Len and the innocent people Lewis is going to potentially kill. But Barry could stop Lewis as the Flash. Would it piss Lewis off? Abso-fucking-lutely. But would he kill Lisa over it? Not likely. 

No, Barry gets dressed up as Sam and pretends to be a criminal to keep an eye on things and literally the only way that makes sense is if he does it for Len. To keep him safe. To keep this whole thing smooth. To insert himself right into the middle of the mess so that he can be the one to ‘save’ Len, basically.

And just look at how he takes a step back when he sees Lewis. He’s heard what Lisa has to say about the man and he gets it now - this is who Leonard Snart fears. That’s just so not lost on Barry. He’s intimidated by Lewis and the violence he knows the man possesses. He’s literally never taken a step back like that from Len or many of his other villains. Lewis is special in Barry’s instinctual desire to get the hell away from him.

But okay. Barry gets “shot” and Len whispers that he’s sorry and Barry’s dressed as the Flash like 2.0 seconds later and up in that hall and he – he trusts Len so much by this point. It’s undeniable. He trusts Len not to shoot. He tells Len that Lisa is safe as soon as she is and stands there facing down the barrel of the cold gun until that moment, knowing that Len will (has to) pick Lisa over him, but still believing that Len will hold out as long as he’s able and won’t shoot him.

Look how far they’ve come. And Barry asks him why he killed Lewis but he’s the one there to witness Len’s vulnerable moment, and Len is just honest with him about why, and there’s just gotta be some measure of Care on Barry’s end, some intense pull at his heartstrings at witnessing all that and being involved in it and in taking the cold gun and seeing his ‘enemy’ (ally) so defenseless?

But... he puts Len in prison anyway. Or, I personally suspect, the cops arrived and Barry scampered and the cops hauled Len off to prison. But Barry visits him. Visits him expressly to say:

Like, Barry is just cutting open Len’s heart and looking into the deepest parts of him and putting Len on the defensive because he’s so not ready for that conversation and Barry’s saying it with complete conviction?

We’ve moved past trust and surface or even deep understanding. Barry is invested. This episode he came to see behind the veil Len holds around him and he cares about what happens to Len (and Lisa, to a lesser extent) now. He’s saved Len. Gone out of his way to do it. And come to understand his deeper motives and parts of himself that he hides away from the world???

And it’s in part because of the parallels that Barry explicitly draws between himself and Len by this point. Like that’s where some of this is coming from. In 2x03, Barry tells Joe that if it weren’t for him (Joe), he might’ve ended up not unlike Len. He doesn’t just understand Len, he empathizes. With his anger, his violence, his need to protect his sister (the one person he loves) at the expense of all else. How he did what he could with the situation he had and then just… never looked back.

(Because Barry’s just like that, okay. Exactly like that).

So I’d say at this point we have Barry genuinely caring about Len as a person, about who he is, what’s happening to him. If Len came to Barry for help with something, anything, at this point I think Barry would say “what do you need?”. And he’s ready for Len to betray him or pull some bullshit because he’s learned, and he knows that Leonard Snart is a very dangerous man. 

But he’s also eager to work with him again, the next time he gets a hint of a chance.

He wants to give Len opportunities to do good. Calls him out on being a lousy villain. Lets Len strike up a conversation with Iris after the initial shock wears off and he verifies Len’s not there to hurt them.

(Trust, but verify, amirite?)

Anyway, that’s… the last time Barry sees Len. Ouch. But it really cements some things. Like that Barry wants to work with Len, that he sees the hero Len could be if he lets himself. 

And as for how he feels about Len? I take it to mean that by this point, he’s gone from apathy to amusement to hate and ire to frustration and (mis)trust to mutual understanding to hurt and betrayal to deeper understanding and care to genuine… hope, inspiration, liking. Camaraderie might be too strong of a word, but I think he wants it. He wants more from and with Len than he has. He wants to develop their friendship. 

And I think he really is starting to think of it as a rather strange friendship (he does call Len an “old friend” in 3x04…). I mean, friendship is a weird thing for Barry anyway - he’s said he didn’t really have friends (aside from Iris) before he became The Flash. His view of it might be skewed a little. A mutual trust and understanding and liking with Snart? Might be close to qualifying…

And he asks after Len when he notices he’s not with the Legends and he cares about the answer.

He’s hurt that Len died. And there’s no time to get into it when there’s a literal alien invasion, but the Speed Force doesn’t let him forget it.

Of all the people he could’ve seen in the Speedforce, he sees the ones whose deaths he blames himself for most, and Len is on that list. Ronnie and Eddie were friends, and this tells us that Len was too. That Barry cared about him and cares about his death and blames himself, on some level, for it. (Thanks Speedforce for rubbing salt in that wound).

And when he needs a thief? Doesn’t even hesitate to fuck up the timeline a bit to grab Len from the past for some help. And that could have had disastrous consequences to the timeline if Len found out about his imminent death. Consequences Barry waved off easily. Why?

Well, Iris was in danger. That’s the biggest one, for sure. But Barry’s not willing to run back in time to change things to save her, we know he’s not (because it’s not a plan b that they discuss and his future self from 2024 hasn’t done it) but he is willing to grab Len from the past and risk a timeline change anyway. It’s for Iris, but I think, personally, that part of Barry misses Len, and wants to see him again before his death. Especially when he’s on the verge of losing a person he loves, seeing another person he cares about who already died might be… comforting? Affirming? Like… he can visit the dead, in a way?

But yeah he just hops through time to pick up Len and asks him for help and puts it all the table, is just casually honest with him about his reasons and motives and just trusts that Len will help. And that trust isn’t in vain. They’re so far past the give and take. They just… trust, and care. They really are friends.

(And lmao, Barry made sure no one could try to talk him out of it…)

So Len helps. And gets trapped with King Shark. And Barry can’t leave him behind. And Lyla hits the nail on the freaking head when she points that out, basically pointing out that Len is important to Barry, that Barry won’t sacrifice him even for the woman he loves.

They actually end up working really well together, too? And Len proves he gets Barry as deep as Barry gets him. Hands over the freaking cold gun (we have never seen him do that wtf) and then lectures Barry on his willingness to kill. He hammers that lesson home when Barry drops him back off, too, and they have a heart to heart.

Ultimately, they acknowledge that they get along. That’s mutual. Acknowledge what they see in each other, what they understand about themselves and each other, and implicitly, the ways that they inspire and help each other.

So, literally 3 hours later, my conclusions are:

Barry cares about Len. Truly, genuinely. As a person, as a friend. As someone he understands and wanted better for. He’s gone from genuine enmity to genuine friendship, I think. In their own, rather weird, sort of way.

[themadpuppy85]

Summoning Candyman Epilogue ( Jumin X Reader fanfic)

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating : M  Summary: “Jumin Han, Jumin Han, Jumin Han” you repeated in front of the mirror. When you wished for Jumin to be real on Halloween night, you didn’t expect him to turn out to be a criminal lord with a strange pet fetish…  Keywords: Super AU, self-insert, loss of control kink, pet kink, creepy dominant Jumin, criminal setting, yandere, also some Yoosung X Seven and Jaehee X Zen Author’s Notes: Apologies to everyone who expected super filthy sex – after the last scene in chapter 8, my beta and I came to the conclusion that there was nothing left to add, so this epilogue is mainly to tie up the loose ends (though I remain open to the idea of an extra chapter of smut because who doesn’t love more of that, right? XD) That said, it transits nicely for the next project, which I let you discover at the end ~ enjoy!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Chapter 9: Epilogue

“You know, I never understood why he chose to bury you here. It’s just so…not you” Simon stressed, then frowned at his inability to express himself better. He didn’t mean the emplacement of her grave, not really; no one could have argued that the place wasn’t as exceptionally beautiful as the girl it guarded. Delicate flowers constantly bloomed around the headstone, like each of them was a tear from the angel engraved at its top; even the leaves of the willows surrounding it seemed to weep with gentle elegance, which was everything Erika had been.  Gentle. Elegant. And weeping, though most of them were too jaded or tactful to remember that fact. 

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a world without suffering, Simon?..” she used to ask. Hopeful, at first, as all idealists are; no amount of problems ever seem too many for serious caritative work to overcome, especially once the cure for the lentivirus was found. Years and repetition, however, slowly moved her focus from those solved to those remaining, until simple math laid the truth bare; it’d never be enough.  For one tree of misery down, a whole forest grew in its place; and while a more philosophical person would have argued that it was even more reason to keep trying, Erika’s fire turned inwards instead.  Guilt for those she was unable to save burned her soul like a fiery sun, and whereas despair drove her mind to radical cultism in the first loop, here she just escaped her cousin’s fretful watch, picked a bunch of syringes and walked straight into an odopium den.

With predictable results, considering the crazed junkies inside, although he wasn’t sure she had anticipated just how utterly brutal a death it would be. If not for herself, then for her loved ones; he couldn’t believe she was so far gone that she hadn’t considered how traumatizing it would be for Yvan to scrap her remains off the floor.  Perhaps she had simply thought they’d choke or bludgeon her to get the drug, and that eternal darkness wouldn’t come first soaked in red.  

Or maybe she did know, and chose to do it nonetheless; it’s not like she left a note to explain any of it. V swore it had been suicide by proxy and nothing else, and though it had certainly had been, Simon liked to think there had been more to it; that her recklessness had in fact been defiance, like a giant middle finger to the Fates that governed this world. It comforted him like a mug of hot chocolate, whenever he thought too hard about his own predicament, to imagine there had been meaning to an otherwise pointless end; to entertain that perhaps she had known, too, and sought her own exit. The theory that her own script prescribed that she always brought people down with her could be as good as any, after all; it was possible that she tried a scenario where it didn’t mean for innocents or her fiancé to suffer needlessly.

Not that she could verify it or that it actually worked even a teensy little bit; as such, he supposed Jehan’s choice of scenery made some kind of sense, at least on a symbolic level. Erika slept forever in her little plot of paradise, and the path to it was bordered with hellish gore; people who were crucified, dismembered, hanging by their entrails in a chorus of agonized moans that could be heard all the way up to the bridge like supplicants waiting to cross to the other side, her side, where forgiveness and peace might wait.

They certainly wouldn’t find any on this side. Identifiable as Jumin as Jehan might be, he had none of his Christian faith or capacity for mercy; and while V might have once have the heart to influence his friend, this version actually thanked him for being so gruesome.  Simon would have called it a perversion of the established order, but the recent events made him doubt he could even cling to that as a reference to what was supposed to be.

Hence why he was here.

“I don’t know where to begin, to be honest” he said out loud. Thoughts were bouncing in his head like in a ping-pong game, and it was hard to pick what was the most important. “I know you’d say to start with the beginning, but there’s not much on that side. We found the Chinese goods – thankfully, God, we did, otherwise I don’t know how many people Jehan would have shot to motivate us, I mean he was so pissed when his pet had her meltdown—” he rambled, then winced at his choice of words. There was really no hope if even he had internalized her as pet rather than girl, which was both the crux of the problem and not.

“It broke Yvan, in any case” he continued with practiced detachment.  He wasn’t sure if he had seen the girl or not, but the crazed look in his eyes when he had raced in his apartment left no doubt that he had pieced enough to understand, and, well — Simon had done his best to distract him with his dick, but hadn’t been able to stay hard very long once Yvan suggested he could be his puppy.  It wasn’t just the frail way he said it, like he was trying to make the girl’s plight okay by embracing it too, but his own reaction to the idea; for a brief second, he had been tempted to agree. It’d be trading a scar for another, sure, but Yvan would be happy, and—

He had snarled in disgust, at himself, as a warning, and Yvan hadn’t understood and ran away in tears, and he had been left... not caring, because he really didn’t, but... wondering. For all the worsening of the loop, it was still the first time he thought Yvan could have been happy.

And the girl was happy too, from what he understood. It was a horrible kind of happy, but she was happy nonetheless, blissfully so, apparently. Rumour had it that she rolled at Jehan’s feet every night in an imitation of a cat begging to be played with, with no sound out her lips but mewls of delight. Not that Jehan ever confirmed it, but the walls weren’t totally soundproofed, and she wasn’t exactly discreet in her appreciation of him. And if that was truly the case, then…

“I suppose I should mention her friend too, before going any further” he sighed. It hadn’t been pleasant to go behind his brother’s back and check the logs of his “volunteers” – poor saps who didn’t know better and were roped in with promises of a fat paycheck and an entry point into Jehan’s organization. Once they realized they were to be used as lab rats for his odopium’s experimentations until madness ensued, it was typically much too late.

He wondered if Maria had known the risks and still soldiered on for the sake of her friend, or if her demise at been by design. Another wish gone wrong, phrased wrong, “please, God, give me another opportunity to reach her”, and the next morning in the newspapers, that treacherous ad shining like gold—

Not that it mattered. The only detail of importance was that she hadn’t succeeded, because the previous times her role had; and while he at first had chalked it up to the worsening of the loop, suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Her death, cruel as it was, had after all reinforced the chances of the girl becoming Jehan’s pet, and thus, happy—

And, well, what if the loop wasn’t worsening every time, as he first assumed, but just… reverting?

Which was easily the most horrifying theory he ever had. To think perhaps what he considered the first world was in fact the last, and that the pendulum was just swinging back to its previous status quo, and that everyone would soon become so… twistedly happy again?

He’d rather die than ever having to find out what that meant for everyone, though he suspected dying wouldn’t be quite enough.

“I thought you would understand best” he confessed to the tomb. Since she made the same wish, in her way, it stood to reason she would give him her blessings was she alive.

“I’m going to make another wish to be free of the loop, ‘Rika” he admitted at last, his voice strengthening as his will took shape. “But not for myself, this time. I’m going to wish that every fucked up part of ourselves go their merry way to have their own brand of happy, in their own bibbity bobbity universe, I don’t give a shit as long as it let us return to what is right. Jumin will turn back into that good old robot we all know and love, and his Jehan part will go fuck girls into his obedient pets in another dimension, and it if it means I’m condemning a whole galaxy to misery, then so be it. I mean we’ll never know, right? We’ll be happy. And you’ll be too, this time, damn it.”

There was sudden gust of wind, a gentle breeze like a caress against his cheek, and he smiled one last time before pushing the words out his mouth:

“I wish…”

///THE END (…?)

A/N: “Puppy, why did you end it so quickly? We were just getting to the good part!” I hear you say. Not because I’m tired of writing, fear not, but because as I wrote this story I began to be more and more frustrated by the restraints of it being a fanfic – meaning I had to respect Jumin’s boundaries as a character, no matter how much I twisted him, and that severely limited me in what I could do with him. I dunno for you, but I want more – I want a story with a Jumin-type character where I can go all out on the kink scale without having to hold myself back because shit that’s not Jumin-esque enough. I want him psychopathic. I want him creepy as fuck. I want him out of his yandere mind at power 100000000000.

And so, I thought…why not? Better yet; why limit myself to written words? Why not a drama CD out of it, so we can lie on our beds and hear a sweet maniac romance us into being his pet?

For those still thirsting for MM, fear not, I still have Sharing is Caring to complete! For those who love the idea though, I leave you with this teaser while I prepare further material:

See you all soon! <3

[hurricanefrankie]

The King in the North

Daenerys waited with baited breath, as the iron doors swung open to reveal one of her Dothraki warriors leading their small group of guests and her advisers inside. She watches with a keen interest as Tyrion ushers the two strange men forward.

 Neither looked very kingly, both slightly disheveled in appearance and dressed in black and faded brown. The older one had a scruffy beard with a receding hairline and a weathered yet kind face. Whilst the younger man had dark curly hair that he’d tried to tame by pulling back into a knot and his face was tragically beautiful, with scars sliced into his otherwise flawless pale skin.

 Daenerys does her best to remain stoic and unaffected by their arrival, trying to train her lilac eyes on the older man rather than his much younger, handsome companion.

 Tyrion bows when he reaches his queen, a triumphant smile on his face, pleased to finally have two such powerful entities in one room without any bloodshed between them.

 Missandei walks with the self-proclaimed king in the north and his comrade until they reach the bottom of the steps beneath Dany and her throne. She then tentatively ascends them to take her place at the side of the room.

 “Your grace,” Tryion turns to signal to their two guests, “allow me to introduce you to my dear old friend, King in the north, Jon Snow.”

 To her amazement, Tyrion pats the younger man on the arm rather than his much older comrade. Dany’s cold expression falters momentarily at her mistake before quickly recovering.

 “And this is his Hand, Ser Davos Seaworth.”

 In the corner of Jon’s eye, he sees Ser Davos’ chest puff out slightly at being introduced so formally.

 “It’s an honor to meet you, your grace,” Ser Davos nods politely, his northern accent strong and gruff yet oddly charming and sincere. Dany noted he had the same gentle and honorable air about him as the former lord commander of her Queen’s guard, Ser Barristan Selmy.

 Missandei addresses Jon Snow and Ser Davos. “Nobel lords, you are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, the Unburnt, Queen of Dragon’s Bay, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.”

 While her handmaiden introduces her, Daenerys can’t help but survey the much younger than anticipated, King of the North, Jon Snow. He couldn’t be much older than she and from what Tyrion and Melisandra had told her, he had achieved just as much within a short space of time as her.

 The natural light streaming in through the cracks in the stone reflects off his breastplate armor, revealing the two stark wolf sigils marked on the front.

“Thank you for the invitation, your grace.” He tautly nods his head; he too had a strong accent, yet his wasn’t as gruff as Ser Davos and much easier to understand. His dark grey, almost black eyes lock with her piercing violet ones, they stare down the other, neither prepared to look away first until Tyrion purposefully coughs to break the mounting tension between the two monarchs.

 “Thank you for traveling so far, my lord.” Dany says, deliberately putting emphasis on his lesser title to make sure he knew his place. “I hope the seas weren’t too rough.”

 “The winds were kind, Your Grace.” Jon coolly retorts.

 There’s a long, drawn out silence, so thick with tension, even Ser Barristan would have had a tough time slicing through it with his blade. “So I assume, my lord, you’re here to bend the knee.”

 Jon shakes his head. “I am not.” He had heard stories about Daenerys Targaryen, that she was beautiful and stunning but the stories did not do the woman who sat before him justice.

 She sighs, hardly surprised by his decision. “Well, that is unfortunate. You’ve traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?”

 He scoffs, “Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms-”

 “My father was an evil man.” Her honesty takes both Jon and Davos by surprise. “On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter for the sins of her father.”

 Jon hangs his head momentarily, the words he spoke to Sansa back at Winterfell replaying in his mind. I will not punish a son for his father’s sins.

 “I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North.” It was a compromise she and Tyrion had agreed on, it meant Jon remained in charge of the north but was stripped of his royal title meaning he was no threat to Dany and her claim.

 He contemplates her proposal for a few minutes. He looks to Davos, whom merely shrugs, as if to say, it’s your choice. “You’re right.” If he agreed, he’d gain the support of her and her army for the war to come, but he’d also lose the support of the north. He may not wish to punish the son or daughter for the sins of their father, but the noble lords loyal to house Stark had made their opinions on the matter very clear and none of them could forgive the Targareyn’s for what they did to Rickard and Brandon Stark.

 He stares back up at the striking queen, her beauty was unmatched by any person he’d ever seen before, to the point where it was almost hard to avert his gaze. “You’re not guilty of your father’s crimes. And I’m not beholden to my ancestor’s vows.” Though he may appear calm and collected on the outside, on the inside his heart beating twice its normal rate and his palms sweating. She was their last resort, without her dragonglass, they were doomed.

 Daenerys has to purse her lips tightly together to stop them from curling up into an impressed smirk, she admired his boldness and that he wasn’t afraid to stand up for what he believed in. “If you never planned on bending the knee, what exactly was the point in your visit?”

 “My grace,” Davos steps forwards, his head bowed out of respect for a little longer than necessary, “pardon me for speaking out of turn,” he slowly stands up straight. “I understand your wish to retake the iron throne, but I’m afraid all the battles you’ll face to oppose the current queen will all be for nothing if what’s north of the wall breaches its defenses and comes south.”

 “What’s north of the wall? Wildlings?” Tyrion frowns; remembering the cryptic explanation the red priestess had given which basically meant that Jon would explain.

 The younger man shook his head causing a few loose strands of unruly curly hair to spring free from his tie. “The free folk, or what’s left of them are now south of the wall. I brokered a peace treaty with them when they saw the real enemy at Hardhome.”

 Dany scowls, she knew very little about the citizens who once lived north of the wall excluding the small pieces of information Tyrion had told her, he begrudgingly knew very little himself. “The real enemy?”

 “The white walkers.” He coldly responds.

 “Weren’t the white walkers merely a ploy used by mothers to scare their children into behaving?”

 “Believe me, my lord, the Night King and his army are very real.”

 “The Night King?” Daenerys sniggers, “The north does like to bestow inappropriate titles to just about anybody, doesn’t it?” she kinks her eyebrow, daring him to challenge her. “What makes these white walkers so…” she pauses, trying to find the right word, “terrifying that the King in the North seeks my help?”

 Jon does his best to hold his tongue and not berate the privileged and naïve queen who sat before him. “The army is made up of the undead, my grace. They intend to march south, destroying anyone and everything that crosses their path. They will not stop until the whole of the seven kingdoms is left in ashes. It won’t matter who sits on the iron throne when dead men come hunting for us in the night.”

 Dany wanted to laugh in response to his insane ramblings but the look in his eye, one of horror and experience, refrained her from doing so. Though she didn’t believe what he was saying, she did trust that he believed it himself. “And why should I believe you?”

 “Why would I lie?” Jon snaps back, allowing his slowly growing resentment and anger towards her get the better of him.

 “My Queen,” Tyrion interjects, defusing the situation, “I know Jon Snow and I honestly think he is telling the truth. I do not think we should dismiss his claim because we do not know any better.”

 She grits her teeth, being undermined in front of her council members was bad enough but to be so blatantly challenged in front of someone who could challenge her claim to the iron throne made her blood boil.

 If what Jon Snow and Ser Davos said was true and there was an army of the undead marching south, if she didn’t help try and stop them, she would have no kingdom left to rule over.

 “What would you suppose we do?” Dany asks, her grip on her throne tightening in frustration.

 “Westeros is divided and a divided realm won’t survive long against the Night King.” Ser Davos answers instead of a glowering Jon. “If we band together, we may have a shot at defeating them. Every northern house sworn to the Stark family is readying for war, the men, the women and the children.”

 Dany’s eyes widen at the prospect of children being subjected to such traumatic sights that occur during wars and their many battles.

 “There are very few things that can kill a white walker,” Davos continues, “Valyrian steel, fire and… dragonglass.”

 Dany eyes Tyrion, half-expecting him to jump in and make a witty comment but he remains quiet, his brow furrowed indicating he was in deep thought. “So, not only do you want my armies, you also want my dragons and my dragonglass?” Since arriving at Dragonstone, she had made sure to find out as much about her ancestry home from the maesters’ and the books she requested, as she could. She knew Dragonstone was built upon a mountain of dragonglass.

 Ser Davos opens his mouth to spew what she could only assume to be some elaborate apology and admission but before he has a chance, Jon speaks first.

 “Yes.” He answers bluntly, his expression mirroring her equally stony one.

 “And what will I receive in return for helping you?” she stares down at Jon, their eyes boring into one and others.

 “My support in your quest for the Iron Throne, once the long night is over and the white walkers are defeated.” He didn’t sound too thrilled about giving her his backing.

 “And how will it look if I allow the King in the North to refuse my command for him to bend the knee? Every lord and lady in Westeros will try and do the same.”

 Jon scowls, the scar above his eye darkening somewhat, “I made a promise to my men.”

 “Your grace,” Ser Davos pipes up again, “Jon has given his life for the North, he took a dagger to the heart for his people-”

 “The north crowned me their king.” Jon quickly cuts across his companion; he was not in the mood to relive the night he died.

 Dany glances over at Tyrion who looked equally confused by the older man’s comments.

 “I never wanted it. I never asked for it.” Jon shakes his head, “But I accepted it because the north is my home. It’s a part of me and I will never stop fighting for it. No matter the odds.”

 Daenerys slowly rises from her throne, surprising both men with her short yet commanding stature. “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us.” She gradually begins to descend the steps, her sights set solely on the king in the north. “Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib.” She walks around him, surveying every aspect of the man Tyrion respected so highly, like a wolf circling its prey.

 She sighs, “Not that it matters now, of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me; I don’t remember all their names.” She muses as if she were discussing something as trivial as the weather. She moves back around to stand before him, her chin tilted up to face him, he was at least a whole head taller than her.

 “I have been sold like a broodmare. I’ve been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile?” she pauses for dramatic effect, “Faith. Not in any god, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

 Jon holds her intense gaze for a few moments more, her beauty and intelligence almost bewitching him.

 “The north is an integral part of the Seven Kingdoms, is it not?” she tilts her head slightly to one side, feigning innocence. “The north is loyal to house Stark, as are the Vale and the Riverlands. I have the combined forces the Reach and Dorne, and the iron fleet, legions of Unsullied, a Dothraki hoard and three dragons, and,” she glances over her shoulder to look at her Hand.

 “By the end of the week, we should have Casterly Rock.” Tyrion finishes for her, their conquests and future ones were all marked up on the map in the chamber with the painted table.

 “Cersei Lannister,” She practically spits the woman’s name, “will not care for your war in the north. She only cares for herself and the throne she illegitimately sits upon. If I don’t reclaim the crown, she’ll burn King’s Landing, and any other realm that defies her without a second thought.” Dany adds, imploring Jon Snow to understand.

 He clenches his jaw, “So you’d rather fight for the throne rather than the people?”

 “I’d like to do both.” She retorts back with an icy edge.

 “The game of thrones is bollocks!” he barks, regrettably making Missandei jump with fright, Daenareys on the other hand barely acknowledges his fit of rage, as though she had seen much worse, which she probably had. “We are all in grave danger, the army of the undead is coming and we’re not ready for them.”

 “Jon,” Tyrion slowly descends the steps to stand between the two rivaling monarchs, “if we turn our backs on the capital and head north to fight these… white walkers, Cersei will be ready. She’ll overthrow every last state and capital, and fight us from the south while we try to stronghold the north.”

 “If she knew the dangers that lay ahead, maybe she could be reasoned with?” Ser Davos suggests hopefully.

 “Cersei blew up the Great Sept with masses of Wildfire buried beneath the city,” Tyrion informs him, “killing everyone in it including her daughter-in-law and the heirs to High Garden, along with anyone within range. The mass slaughter also had a profound effect on her last remaining son, King Tommen.” At the thought of his nephew, Tyrion hangs his head. “The young King threw himself out of his bedroom window. Her children were the only thing that kept Cersei relatively human, and now they’re all dead, so is her humanity.”

 The room goes very quiet. Dany and Jon continue their stare down until the doors open once again, she reluctantly glances away to look and see who had entered.

 Lord Varys shuffles towards them, almost silently. He skirts around Ser Davos and Jon without so much as a look in their direction to privately address his queen. Daenareys steps back away from the King in the North to make sure he couldn’t overhear whatever Varys was about to tell her.

 The bald man leans down, his back to their guests and whispers the news about Euron’s fleet. “He ambushed the Greyjoys’, he killed Obara and Nymeria, and has taken Ellaria, her daughter Tyene and Yara Greyjoy prisoner. It’s rumored he is taking them as a gift for Cersei.”

 Dany gulps, her unaffected, stoic expression slowly fading away to be replaced with one of true morning, though her eyes flashed with rage.

 Varys backs away with a bow before walking soundlessly towards the chamber containing the map. Tyrion watches him leave, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 “I’m sorry, I must end this meeting now,” The silver haired queen clasps her trembling hands together, “you’ve had a long journey, as a show of good will, I offer you a room to stay for the night. Missandei will show you the way.” Her handmaiden quickly walks down the steps to stand by her queen.

 Jon stares at her skeptically, not sure if it were some form of trick or not. “Am I your prisoner?”

 “No.” She retorts briskly and then heads in the same direction as her master of whispers, Tyrion offers the two men an apologetic nod before following her, hot on her heels. “Not yet.” Dany calls out over her shoulder before disappearing through a door.

[ourlastbastion]

Wild Fire Ch. 15

AO3

FFNet

“How is he?”

Spirit looked over as Marie approached him, worry filling her golden eye as she came to a stop.

“Still isn’t talking to any of us, nor letting any of us in his room,” Spirit sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m more concerned over that than the silent treatment. Not even food is getting him to let us in, I’m worried he’s going to end up starving himself at this rate.” They had tried forcing their way into his room, but Spirit was certain he’d somehow managed to push all his furniture against it to keep the door from opening.

It had been a few days since the warehouse incident, and as soon as he had been able, Maleko just cut them all off and isolated himself from all of them. It’d gotten to the point that the few students he’d won over were growing worried.

They’d tried bribing him with his favorite foods and drinks, with candy and toys, but nothing worked. The only signs that they had that Maleko was even alive and still in there was the movement they’d hear through the door and his soul still very much present within his room.

Marie frowned and as Spirit walked, she fell into step beside him. “I wish we knew what caused this.”

That was another mystery, Spirit thought to himself. It was obvious that there had been more to the warehouse incident than what he had told them. But now it was going to be impossible to find out if he kept acting like this. Had they said something, the ones who had kidnapped him and Soul? Had they done something? For all they knew, this new behavior could be the result of trauma.

Spirit wished he had the answers, wished he could say something, anything, and make it all better. Sure, Maleko was a sorcerer, but he was still a kid and Spirit was a parent. His heart hurt for the boy, and whatever pain the kid might be suffering since that night.

The only thing they could do now is just wait for him to be ready to talk and keep an eye on him as best as they could. It was a blessing that Maleko couldn’t use Soul Protect, his soul wavelength was so drastically different from the others in the city that it’d make it easy to locate and follow if something were to happen.

Was he even at risk of fleeing? No one knew for sure, but they had to be cautious.

Spirit felt terrible for him, that was the honest truth, what he went through was probably traumatic. Even if he was a sorcerer, he was a child first and foremost, and that’s what mattered in the end. There was a chance that he could still become something, someone good, not twisted and poisoned by his magic.

But if he pushed everyone out of his life like this so suddenly, it wasn’t a good sign.

“Maka’s going to try talking to him again later,” Spirit said out loud as they walked. He had faith that if anyone could reach Maleko, it was her. Maleko had been fond of his daughter, almost like a little brother looking up to a big sister, and he hoped that it would be enough to get Maleko to talk to them again.

Marie’s mouth twisted into a frown, “I hope she succeeds,” she murmured softly, a hand coming to rest over her heart as she looked down. Then, as if struck by determination, she straightened, “I’m going to try cooking him something to eat. Chicken, some cookies. He’s got to be hungry in there.”

She was so certain, so hopeful, Spirit could only hope that her plan worked, “If there’s one way to reach a boy, it’s through his stomach,” he agreed with a tired smile. “You do that, I’m going to meet up with Stein, see if there’s anything new.”

The weapons parted, footsteps echoing softly in the halls, growing quieter and quieter as they drifted away.

The days were beginning to blur for Maleko. He refused to leave his room for anything or for anyone, unable to cope with the bubbling emotions within him that wanted to burst free in a beautiful eruption with the intensity of the grinning sun itself. He wanted to lash out at the world, but held it all back, his anger and fear and confusion, kept it inside where it festered like an infected wound, putrid and oozing.

He’d shoved his desk against the door to keep it from opening. All the toys that they had given him, he’d thrown across his room, broke and burned. Drawings were torn to shreds, claw marks were left gouged into the floors and walls. It was the best he could to handle this sense of betrayal.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it? A betrayal?

His friends, the people he played with, come to care for, come to enjoy being with… they weren’t good people. They hunted and murdered his kind, and for what? Their souls, so they could get stronger, stronger so they could hunt stronger witches and sorcerers.

Maleko was just prey to them.

All this time, were they just keeping him here so they could kill him when the time was right? Were they using him as bait to lure mama in so they could kill her as well?

Had all that time he’d spent with them, playing with them, was it just so they could get his trust, so he wouldn’t even suspect a thing when they finally brought down the guillotine blade upon his neck? Maleko hadn’t done anything wrong, but being born was crime enough to warrant being executed to these people.

Everything had been one-sided, hadn’t it? The friendship, the laughter, and games, and smiles, he’d been the only one who saw them as friends, hadn’t he?

It hurt. It really hurt.

He ground his teeth, nails digging into the floor, “Aaaagh!” he screeched until his throat was raw, his back arching as he crouched on the floor.

Taka ruffled his feathers a little but didn’t budge from where he perched on the desk, watching and waiting. Taka… Taka was the only one who was actually on his side, wasn’t he? He was honest with Maleko, trying to be helpful in his own way. Taka said that Maleko needed to get away, and he was right, he needed to go.

But he couldn’t just up and run, the moment he left his room, they’d be on him. They’d follow his soul and drag him right back, and this time instead of him locking them out, he’d be locked up with no way to escape. No, he couldn’t leave, not until he learned how to hide his soul.

It had been four days since the truth came out, four days since he’d last eaten a proper meal. To say he was hungry was an understatement, but Maleko wasn’t going to let it get to him. He’d been through worse in the past, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t eating anything at all. Maleko had some candy storied in his room, it wasn’t filling, but it was enough for him, for now.

He couldn’t risk opening the door for anyone, it’s a sign of weakness, of submission. He had to stand his ground, even if it meant starving.

Maleko scowled, pushed himself up onto his feet to start pacing the room, growling and scratching at his neck before tugging at his hair. If he pulled out tufts, would that relieve the pain and frustration?

Still perched above, Taka only watched and said nothing as Maleko moved, growing angrier and more agitated by the second. He needed freedom. Even if Maleko imprisoned himself, being confined was driving him crazy.

But he couldn’t leave the academy, not until he learned to hide his soul, or else he would never be able to escape at all.

Maleko snarled, turning on a bare heel and slamming his head into the wall. A dull ache sprang from his forehead, growing worse as he continued to pound it again and against, his shoulders shaking as he growled and huffed, seeking something, anything to soothe the growing anger inside of him.

There was a knock on his door.

Blood beginning to dribble down his face, Maleko pulled away from the wall and turned to glare at the door. His nose twitched at the smell of chocolate, but he didn’t take a step towards it.

“Maleko? It’s me, Maka,” came from the other side as another knock rang out. “Are you okay in there? I… I brought you some candy, chocolate bars, your favorite.” Her voice hesitated a little, and she knocked again.

Maleko bared his teeth, growling softly. He trusted her, admired her, thought they were friends, but how many witches and sorcerers has she already hunted? Already killed? And if not any yet, she certainly will in the future. She and Soul always talked about how they were going to turn Soul into a Death Scythe, they would need to kill a witch for that or a sorcerer. Sure, they avoided the details when he was around, but now he knew what was needed to achieve that dream.

Were they planning to kill him? Was that why she was so eager to spend time with him?

His hands shook, his claws extending with the need to tear into something. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he couldn’t even calm himself, but he was able to refrain from responding to her, from yelling at her like his instincts wanted.

There was another knock, and then a soft thud followed by the sound of something sliding against the metal door, he wasn’t sure what she did this time. “Maleko, please, just talk to us,” she was speaking softly, pleadingly. “We’re all worried about you, please just tell us what’s wrong.”

She sounded so sincere, so genuine, it made him want to trust her again, to believe in her again. It made him want to apologize and go back to how things had been.

“They’re killers,” Taka reminded him. It was all that Maleko needed.

His anger returned, a sharp flare and Maleko whirled around on his heels once more to face the wall, to glare at the faint stain of blood he’d left. With a snarl, he dragged his claws through it, leaving a fresh trail of gouges into the surface. It was all he could do to keep from dragging them through flesh.

There was chatter outside his door, one of the others must have been with her. Soul, probably. He bared his teeth, should have let those two men in the warehouse kill him or whatever they were planning. They worked for mama, served her—and he killed them. Of course he killed them, they hurt him, they beat him up, made him bleed, they had to go.

His blood was at a boil, his skin burning.

“Maleko… I’ll be back, I promise that I will, but please at least eat something,” Maka said giving another soft knock on the door. Footsteps receded from outside his room, growing softer and farther away. Maleko kept his ears perked for any other noise, any sign of life outside his door, breathing, shuffling of shoes, a rustling of clothes.

Nothing. He was alone, again. Well, not entirely, but alone enough.

Maleko snarled and hit the wall. His knuckles cracked and burned, the pain only made him angrier.

He didn’t want to stay here any longer, he wanted to get out, needed to get out. Find Kai, find her and be with her again, he’d be safe with her, at least. He could warn her that they’re looking for her.

Another growl escaped him.

“Maleko,” Taka commanded softly, taking from his perch on the desk to land on the boy’s shoulder. “Relax.”

Maleko snarled, but talons dug into his shoulder and he relented. Sitting down, he crossed his legs and left his hands to rest between them, taking a deep breath. Try and ignore his anger, focus on himself, inside of himself. Nothing would matter at all if he couldn’t escape.

Focus on his soul, focus his magic on concealing it. Imagine a blanket, wrapping his soul up nice and tight so that it’d be safe from everything.

Safety, imagine safety.

It was hard to do, to hide his soul when he barely understood the concept of one. Trying to conceal his very essence, to smother the flames inside of him so that the smoke wouldn’t lead others to him, it was difficult, and something part of him didn’t want to do.

Hiding his soul, concealing it, it meant he’d have to lock away his magic, he’d be cut off for as long as his soul was hidden. There had never been a time that he’d been severed from his magic and to be honest it was a terrifying thought to have.

But it was necessary. He’d have to give up his magic, temporarily, if he were to escape. Had to, needed to. Stop being such a coward and do it!

There was no way to hide his grimace as he tried to focus his magic on himself. He tried to concentrate his fire, to compact it into a small ball to cover his soul. Imagine stuffing his soul in a bag, locking it up in a box where no one can find it.

Slowly, a chill began to spread through him. He could sense his magic growing fainter and fainter as he focused on the box, focused on keeping it locked uptight. His heat was ebbing away, quickly fading from his body.

Another soft knock echoed on his door, the box broke open and heat washed through him, burning his skin and leaving it prickling as the cold left him.

Maleko snarled. So close, he’d been so close!

He pushed himself onto his feet, forcing Taka to fly off at the sudden movement, stalked towards the door and leaped onto the desk so he could press his ear against the heavy metal. Who was bothering him this time? He wanted to tear them open and breathe magma into their carcasses! His teeth bared and his claws dug into the steel.

Another knock, this time louder and more insistent. A startled whine.

“R-Ragnarok! He’s not going to, he’s not going to open the door,” a familiar voice cried in dismay as the knocking continued.

Hearing the trembling voice, Maleko paused, his snarl fading into confusion and uncertainty, he waited at the door, crouched on the desk, waiting for what else was going to be said.

“Of course he won’t talk! All he does is growl and howl!” snapped a high pitched voice, Ragnarok was… well, his attitude was about as same as usual. But it was surprising to Maleko that they were here, they tended to avoid him, well, Crona did, he could never understand. He had thought that they’d be kindred spirits, rescued by the academy, waiting to be returned to their parents.

Now he had doubts about if that was true. Crona was fond of Maka, the two were close, with Crona’s affections for her reminding him of the way Kom had always acted around his mama. Had she sent them to him as an attempt to make him open up? Was this a ploy, a trap?

But… Crona was like him, their mama was a witch, an enemy of the academy as well. Crona was the only one who could possibly understand Maleko. This could be… they could be a friend.

Ragnarok was still yelling at Crona as Maleko crawled off the desk and slowly pushed it away from the door. It screeched against the floor, and he panted and grunted at the weight of it, but was able to give enough room to open the door a bit.

The argument had died down at the noise he’d made, so when he opened his door, he saw the two looking at him with surprise. They hadn’t expected him to let them in, to respond to them at all.

“Cro…? Raggy?” Maleko’s voice was flatter than usual, worn out. He was tired and made no attempt to hide the physical and emotional exhaustion he felt.

“Looks like the brat finally opened his door, what a shocker!” Ragnarok jeered as he lounged against Crona’s head, ushering for his meister to walk in. Maleko stepped aside so they could, watching the thin teenager slide through the narrow gap and then shut the door behind them. Ragnarok twisted about from his perch to stare at Maleko. “You look like shit.”

Face scrunching up, Maleko glared at him, “Shut up,” he didn’t want to put up with the weapon, not right now. He felt too volatile to be able to deal with him, to on edge. He didn’t want to lash out.

Taka flew over to land on Maleko’s shoulder once more. “Ah, so this is Ragnarok and Crona… Medusa’s pair, correct?” his voice echoed in Maleko’s head, the other two gave no sign that they heard him but Maleko just nodded “Right,” he mumbled back.

“You have a pet bird?” Crona asked softly, wringing their hands together in a clear sign of uncertainty, grasping at whatever they could to start a conversation. They probably hadn’t planned this far ahead.

Maleko frowned and moved to sit on his bed. “Taka not pet,” he corrected, “friend.”

“Friend, right,” Ragnarok sounded uninterested and looked around the state of Maleko’s room. “So what’s got you throwing such a tantrum? Damn you really tore this room up.”

He glared at the weapon, his skin was burning again, blood boiling. Should he tell them that he knew? Did they know? He looked at Taka and the bird nodded. “Academy… bad,” he said, fishing around for the right words. Thankfully, the black blood meister and weapon said nothing as he spoke. “Kill… witches, not, not good. Mama witch, kill her… an me,” there were so many words he wanted to say, but they were words he didn’t know.

He dug his nails into his bed, hearing and feeling the fabric tear. “Bad people, killers,” he spat, shaking. “Want to… find mama, get away.”

Crona seemed nervous—but they always seemed nervous, so was it anything new? “You found out?” they asked. Ah, so they did know. Didn’t explain why they would stay if they knew, maybe they weren’t able to stay, they were just hostages with freedom like Maleko had been.

“Are you planning to run away?” Ragnarok asked. Maleko snapped his head up to look at the black blob, slowly he nodded. “Not going to be easy, the schools got all sorts of meisters who’d be able to follow you easily the moment you left the school gates. Doubt you’d even be able to get out of the city before they brought you back here.”

It was nothing that he didn’t already know. “Soul… protect,” Maleko said firmly. “Gonna, gonna learn. Can’t find Maleko.”

“But, even if you do escape, how are you going to find Kai?” Crona asked, slowly coming to sit next to him on the bed. “She could be anywhere in the world, no one here’s been able to locate her yet.”

“Maleko tracker,” was his answer. He was a good tracker, a good hunter, and beyond that, he had Taka, he knew what to look for. Find the Acolytes and they’d take him right to her. He didn’t say that, though Crona, as much as Maleko liked them, was weak-willed, if Maka asked, or anyone else asked, they might just spill everything Maleko told them. He didn’t want to take the chance.

Mama would be proud if she saw how cautious and thoughtful he was being right now.

The weapon snickered, “Well, it seems like you have everything planned out, as soon as you figure out how to hide your soul, you’re out of here, huh?” he asked and Maleko gave a nod. “Heh, well, good for you.”

Crona flinched and looked up at Ragnarok, “We can’t just let them run off, Ragnarok. It’s dangerous out there, and it’ll be cold at night, there’s no food and there are animals.”

Maleko wasn’t scared of any of that, what was the big deal? He snarled, “Maleko go,” he said firmly, pointing to the window. Taka fluttered a bit and waddled across his arm to a different part. “Can make it!”

To his surprise, Ragnarok held up a round hand. “Hold it, kid, they’ve got a point, surprisingly enough. We can’t just let you go out on your own like that. Surviving in a jungle and then surviving in a desert are two different things,” he pointed out.

There was a sigh of relief from Crona, “I’m glad you understand.”

“We’ll have to get you some proper supplies,” Ragnarok decided, earning a stuttered response from Crona. He looked down at them and began tugging at pale hair, “We owe it to them and to Kai, Crona. Because of her, we don’t have to be afraid of Medusa showing up ever again, consider this us paying her back,” he snapped easily avoiding Crona’s flailing hands. “Besides, this can keep your precious friends safe, too. Kai gets Maleko and we avoid a war.”

Maleko didn’t really understand what was going on between them or what they were talking about, but Crona did and they stopped arguing soon after with a mumbled ‘you’re right’.

With that apparently settled, Ragnarok let go of Crona’s hair to point at Maleko. “Crona here has a spare backpack in our room that Tiny Tits gave them. We’ll give it to you, stuff some stuff you’ll need in it. You sure you can find Kai?”

“Ye!” Maleko chirped, sitting straight.

Ragnarok nodded and rested against Crona as he continued talking as if thinking out loud. “Maybe get you a little bit of money just in case, Crona doesn’t really spend any of their weekly allowance the school gives them so we got some we can spare. Food is a necessity… maybe the witches down at Chupa Cabra can loan something, too,” he said and gave a light punch to Crona’s head. “You’re going to have to keep this quiet from the others, got it.”

“I won’t,” Crona responded weakly as knuckles ground into their temples.

Maleko watched as the pair stood up, Ragnarok watching him closely, “You stay here, we’ll try and get things put together for you so you can up and scram when the chance comes. Come on, Crona put those legs to work and do something useful for once!”

Watching them leave, Maleko quickly closed the door and pushed the desk back against it to barricade himself from the others. He had an ally, someone who was going to help him. He was so happy about this, he wanted to just roll and laugh.

“Can you trust them?” Taka asked as he flew to stand at the window. “Crona and Ragnarok, are they trustworthy?”

Were they? Maleko wanted to think that they were, he had no reason to mistrust them, did he? He wanted to trust Crona, wanted to be able to trust someone, anyone in this academy again, in this prison. Anyone, someone.

He didn’t have time to doubt, to question, he had to get ready, he needed to be sure he could hide his soul. That was his priority, his second was readying his escape route; it wasn’t as if Maleko could just walk out the front doors. He glanced up at the windows and metal bars, knowing what he’d need to do.

But, first things first.

Maleko sat back down on the floor, closed his eyes and focused on himself, on his soul.

Crona didn’t return until late that evening, carrying a faded backpack that seemed stuffed full. Ragnarok lounged on their head like it was a throne, waving a tiny fist in the air in greeting when Maleko pushed the metal desk aside once more. Maka had been true to her word and had tried to visit Maleko an hour prior, but he had stayed silent through her entire attempt.

They placed the bag on the bed and opened it up so that Maleko could see all that was in there. “We packed you some granola bars, a few fruits too, so you have something to eat,” they explained, showing the box tucked away inside. “Um, we have a jacket in there, in case it starts raining, a map…” they mumbled as they rummaged through it.

“There’s some money packed up in the side pouch, fifty or so, not much, but enough if you need to buy food or something when you reach the next town,” Ragnarok pointed to said pouch, and then to the large object hanging off the other side. “There’s also a canteen of water, try not to drink it all at once, unless you want to start drinking your own piss.” Vulgar, but Maleko could understand the point.

He stuffed his hand in it and then pulled a baggie of some cream and herbs, his nose crinkled at the familiar bitter smell. “Yeah, we were able to get Arisa, she’s a witch down at the cabaret club, some homemade ointment if you get hurt,” Ragnarok said offhandedly.

Maleko stared at the contents, eyes wide. It was more than he expected, to be honest. His eyes might have gotten a little watery, too. He would have been content with just some water and a candy bar, but with this… this was basically a luxury trip.

“Thank you,” he whispered and then threw himself at them, wrapping his small arms around Crona and burying his face in their midriff, letting out a soft purr. “Thank you.”

Crona let out something of a terrified whine, going stiff and awkward at the hug, arms askew while Ragnarok just laughed. “Don’t mention it, pipsqueak. Now, we just need to get your ass out of here, you know how?”

“Uh-huh,” Maleko nodded, backing away from Crona and pointed to the window. “Jus… jus need a boost,” he couldn’t reach it on his own, not with the desk being used to block the door. He’d need help.

Ragnarok nodded, “Alright, makes sense,” he tapped his fists against Crona once more, “Come on, get him up there!”

It was a bit awkward, there was a bit of trouble to it, but Maleko was able to climb onto Cronas shoulders so that he could reach the high window. They swayed under him, stumbling a little, but Maleko held onto the metal bars tightly, focusing hard.

Fire, heat… feel it pulsing through him.

He closed his eyes as he felt the metal heat up. Slowly the metal began to shift, softening, melting. Maleko breathed heavily and then pulled hard on the two bars. They creaked, bent, but remained. He focused harder, applied more heat and tried again, and again, and again. Each attempt, the metal bent more and more, it’s shape becoming altered, becoming softer.

By the fourth time, Maleko broke the two bars off, giving enough space for him to crawl through. The two bars fell to the ground with a splat, the wet metal cooling quickly and sticking itself to the floor.

First, the backpack was pushed out the window, and then, with Crona’s help, crawled through.

He was free,

Grinning from ear to ear, Maleko dropped to his knees and peered back into his former room. “Thank you,” he whispered from the bottom of his heart, “Thank you.”

Crona smiled, too, it was soft and small, but it was there. “Your welcome,” they whispered but it was drowned out by Ragnarok, “Get running now, kid, they’re going to realize you’re moving soon, especially if you don’t have your soul hidden.”

He nodded in response, right, he needed to hide his soul. “Goodbye,” he said, pushing himself onto his feet and shrugging on the bag. Hopefully, he’d be able to spend time with them again in the future.

With those final words, Maleko took off running. Away from the academy, down the stairs and into the heart of the city. As he ran, he focused on himself and took a deep breath. Inside his mind, Maleko imagined the chest, visualized his soul within and locked it shut.

Diving into the crowds, ducking into alleys, over fences and narrow spaces, there was no chance for anyone to find him or follow him, not when they couldn’t locate his soul. Maleko broke free of the city without anyone finding him.