#i mean considering his exposure to the mind stone

[theefloraknight]

...no barren moon where he won't find you...

Loki stared at the ceiling, wondering.

Thor threw me- No, I let-Odin- No. I let go. Didn't I?

I was on Midgard. They were kneeling. No- i was kneeling. To whom?

Loki laid on the bed, breathing heavier.

The lights are too bright.

Why can't I remember? I wanted to rule Midgard. He wanted the stone. I wanted to be king, didn't I?

Why can't I remember?

Loki began breathing faster.

It's too loud. The lights are too bright.

I don't- I want, he tortur-

No. Why would it matter?

He wanted the stones. I wanted the throne. Didn't I? Isn't that what I told Thor in the Observatory? I don't remember. Why can't I remember? He told me-

I wanted to be free. I still want to be free. No I don't. Yes I do.

I had sisters. I don't have sisters. Yes I do, the cyborg and the Zehoberei. They aren't-

I'm his child now. Aren't I? Isn't that what he told me? I'm not Odin's- Odin wasn't my father. He isn't. Tha- No. He is not my father.

Did I...attack Midgard? That's what happened, isn't it? That's why I'm here? But I don't remember. I defenestrated someone, didn't I? No. Yes. The Man of Iron. Why can't I remember?

I miss Thor. I hate him. He abandoned me. How did he find me? I was falling...yes. And she caught me. The cyborg. She brought me to Father. She didn't bring me to Odin.

Why can't I remember?

Loki begins to grip the sheets, silently screaming.

Why can't I remember?

Why can't I remember?

WhywhywhywhywhywhywhyWHY.

Tears begin gathering in Loki's eyes, heartbeat quickening.

Why can't I remember?

Why can't I remember?

What happened?

What did he do to me?

Why can't I remember?

[pyropsychiccollector]

Natsu Harem: Fairy GET! 1/14

... So what do I hope to gain from this...? Hmm. (人◕ω◕) I'm not really sure.

I've done analyses of ships. I think that's what I'd like this series to be... But here's the thing: Most of these Natsu ships are not rooted deep in canon lore. There's only a few women that canon could pertain to, when it comes to the Fire Dragon Slayer... And that is boring. The Big 4 ships of canon particularly bore me. I will never yield to them. This has been the case now and forever. (人◕ω◕)

Therefore, this series must be... a prospective analyses. Something that is not necessarily there right this moment... But can be. I don't think I shall get long-winded, though. There are 14 lovely ladies to get to, and I would be quite dead by the end if I went "all-out". But I shall do my best to give you all something for each member I list out over the coming days. Whether you've considered these ships before or not. Let us enjoy this journey together. (人◕ω◕)

14 lovelies... I think I will begin with... someone on the younger side. Not the youngest, though. Yes, Miss Chelia Blendy will do nicely for a warmup. (人◕ω◕)

When did they meet?

Strictly speaking, the first time Natsu met Chelia was during the Grand Magic Games. Not very riveting, however. They were competitors, and had only minor exposure to one another. The closest they came to interacting was through mutual friendship with Wendy-chan. (❋•‿•❋)

But if I were to take a whack at a proper first meeting, well... It might be during the waterpark episode. I'm sure you remember the one. (❋•‿•❋)

Bear in mind, we're already in "fanfic territory" here, so I'll proceed with that mindset with these headcanons. (❋•‿•❋)

After Erza has that... accident... with Jellal in the pool - which Natsu did help create - Natsu's in a bit of a sour mood because... It's Jellal. And Erza's being weird again with that guy. (❋•‿•❋) To distract himself, Natsu sees what Wendy's up to, and gets more directly acquainted with Chelia-chan. She seems cute and cool, and he hopes Chelia can get along with Wendy. ... Which embarrasses Wendy, cuz that's something more that a "dad" does, and Natsu's more of a brother! Really! ... At least Wendy thinks he is...? Hmm. Something to puzzle over later. *wink wink* (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

Plus, they both have pink hair! Natsu can't say he's met too many people with his hair color. (❋•‿•❋)

When did they grow closer?

Being a part of separate guilds, Natsu wouldn't have much interaction with her, except when Wendy wants to go visit her. And it's not like he tags along for every trip to Lamia Scale or whatever. He doesn't treat Wendy like glass or nothin'.

But... of course Chelia would grow a little curious of this "niisan" that Wendy keeps speaking fondly of. Has so many stories to share. While Lyon, Yuka, and Tobey can be fired up at times, they're generally more calm and collected... and besides, Chelia herself is fixated on Lyon. Through her cousin, she came to learn there was a lot to love about that hunk of man. (❋•‿•❋)

... There's just one problem. Lyon only has eyes for Juvia, and sooner or later Chelia gets tired of waiting around for him. Not that Lyon doesn't value their friendship and bond, Chelia just wants... more. More love. Love that Lyon isn't up for sharing with her.

It makes Chelia a little... territorial of the bonds that she does have. Wendy-chan's like her li'l sis, so when the Sky Dragon Slayer comes to Lamia Scale after Fairy Tail disbands... It's like a dream come true. They become the Sky Sisters of Lamia Scale, and Chelia couldn't be happier.

... And then Natsu, Lucy, and Happy come back only a year later, with ideas of wanting to bring Fairy Tail back. Meaning, of course, Wendy-chan goes with them. That was the deal, and Chelia-chan knows it. (❋•‿•❋) That said, Chelia-chan doesn't wanna lose Wendy, too. Obtaining love from Lyon, escaping the friendzone... That's like trying to get blood from a stone. And now she's losing Wendy, too...? Chelia can't take that.

So when enemies attack the town... Chelia-chan steals Happy to go with Wendy and Charle to deal with the threat. She does so in order too prove to Wendy that she's strong, too, and she doesn't have to go back to Fairy Tail if she doesn't want to. It doesn't quite go the way Chelia-chan wanted it to, however...

Bluenote Stinger comes out and overwhelms them all. But right after he shows up, Natsu catches up to them and takes Bluenote almost effortlessly. ... Though he does burn Chelia's clothes to a crisp. (❋•‿•❋) He talks her ear off about being a thief, and he holds her up like a newborn kitten... Honestly, Chelia didn't see what was to admire about this guy, he was crazy~!

... But, reflecting back on it... He was still important to Wendy, and Chelia-chan didn't want to be selfish and keep her away from the friends that found Wendy first. Whatever her own thoughts and feelings, Chelia had to support her sister. Fairy Tail was never gonna stay dead, and deep down Chelia didn't want it to. (❋•‿•❋)

When does friendship turn to something more?

Naturally, we should consider the future. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Obviously, Chelia-chan helps Wendy and Fairy Tail fight off the Alvarez Empire... In one world, she gives up her powers to use Third Origin. In another world... perhaps her God Slayer powers were super effective against Dimaria, who was fused with Chronos. Perhaps she didn't need to debilitate herself to help defeat the enemy.

It's still not an easy battle, but... Chelia manages to pull through. In such a world... Chelia isn't focused on regaining her Magic, it isn't such a pyrrhic victory. She can stand tall and proud... But that doesn't change Chelia's plight with regards to "love". She still wants more... And with Ishgar on the road to recovery, back to more peaceful times, perhaps Chelia can make headway on that goal.

After a few collab jobs with Wendy (and Natsu tagging along out of boredom), Chelia learns more about Natsu. Sure, he's a reckless meathead that likes to punch first, ask questions later... Always so eager to pick fights... He's brusque, talks with his mouth full (oh yeah, he eats for ten men, easily - maybe even twenty!)... But... He has heart. He cares about his friends, even her who he barely even knows... When he helps her stand up after getting knocked down, Chelia gets some butterflies in her stomach. Those carefree grins he gives out, the way he tries finding a bright side to even the most dismal situations... The way he's so warm... Chelia sees why he's important to Wendy. One has to look past the scrappy, dense exterior, but Natsu is definitely something special. Some days, Chelia finds herself a bit dazed as she begins getting lost in daydreams and remembrances of Natsu's warmth, no matter how brief she was in contact with it. Takes people snapping her out of it to go about her day, but Chelia ultimately doesn't mind getting lost in those dreams~... They're becoming more frequent. Chelia-chan yearns.

And one day, Chelia-chan just... asks Natsu out. She's not really sure when or how or why... But she really, really wants the Pyro. And she's done hesitating. His guildmates and friends be damned, Chelia-chan goes for her prize, just walks up too him and asks him out. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Naturally, there were... reactions to such a blunt, straightforward request. But more on those later.

For now we must consider Natsu's feelings on Chelia. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Honestly, he wasn't expecting her to walk up out of the blue and ask him out. Natsu's never been one to think long and hard about that stuff, he just goes with the flow... If a girl asks him out, he goes for it. Not cuz he's like Loke or Gildarts, but because the ones asking are his friends. And he never lets them down if he can help it.

So despite any heated rejections from the crowd, Natsu nods his head and takes Chelia's hand to go on a date. Much to the Sky God Slayer's delight~... She's from another guild, and she's on the younger side... But how can he say no to someone who's so nervous and shy while asking him out in front of the guild like that...? Chelia takes such good care of Wendy, and she's become a valuable friend to him, too~... They've even pulled off some combination attacks - sometimes just them, sometimes including Wendy.... Wind helps fires get stronger, and Natsu wants to repay the favor. (๑╹ω╹๑ )

... Plus, she's rather cute and timid when you pluck her up like a kitten. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Of course certain parties will have words to say about this~... But Natsu doesn't regret reciprocating Chelia's feelings~... He's gotta respect the burning passion, yeah? Chelia's got a fire (of love!) in her belly~! (๑╹ω╹๑ )

[hopeymchope]

The Harry Potter reboot has me really concerned . I mean, if the news about it came out during 2030 or something it would’ve been fine, but the fact it’s happening right now and JKR’s part of it is a massive turnoff for me. I know a lot of HP fans are excited about the reboot, but I have no doubt that the show’s gonna be controversial no matter what, to the point it’s making me worried for the kids who want to be part of it because they like HP.

Note: This is following up on this post/rant about the HP reboot streaming series BS.

In 2030, at least it wouldn't be one year after the previous attempt at extending the franchise crashed and burned. But I feel like that's the only reason why doing this reboot series in 2030 would be any better than doing it right now: Because right now it looks desperate. But in both cases, a massive TERF will get millions more cash to fund her efforts to vilify, dehumanize, and terrorize transgender and transsexual people worldwide. Just because David fucking Zaslav thought this would be a great way to squeeze more blood from the stone.

Y'know, if they did this without JKR's direct involvement and promised to try and "expand upon" the novels outside of her text? That would feel better to me, because A) she'd probably just get her usual tiny royalty instead of this larger salary, at least, AND B) it'd open up the possibilities of them trying to correct the material for her shitty views, like how Hogwart's Legacy at least did its best to provide positive trans representation within the Wizarding World universe.

Unfortunately.... with JKR directly involved and - more importantly - with how she's recently rewriting her own history to claim that trans people are equivalent to the Death Eaters? YEEEEEAAAH, this reboot has a STRONG potential to get REAL fucking Anti-Trans in a VERY fucking dangerous way. Don't be surprised if the Death Eater army shows up and seems coded VERY HEAVILY to be trans without explicitly saying so, is what I'm fucking saying.

BTW Anon, I'm not sure I understand your very last sentence? Or at least, I'm not sure of who you're talking about specifically. As in: Do you mean you're worried about the kids who will try to be actors/characters in the show? Or you're worried about kids who will get involved in watching it and the fandom because of it, etc?

Because... well, I agree either way actually. BUT I'm honestly more worried about the latter group. The ones who might be introduced to this world/fandom by this MAX series have real potential to be radicalized into hateful TERFs by it, especially if they're watching at young/impressionable ages like six years old or thereabouts. Dear god, at least the actors will probably be circa 10 or 11 at the start and will therefore be more capable of critical thinking than the youngest viewers will be, plus they could potentially just be there for the paycheck/exposure or whatever.

This is a VERY worrisome production, for sure. And once again, it's funny how little Rowling understands her own work.

Mmm, yes, and what if that boy was vilified and hated by family for who he was inside? What if they abused him and treated him as sub-human just for who he was internally - how he was born?

What if the family around him even tried to hide the very existence of that type of person, never once letting him know such a thing was even POSSIBLE, because they hated those people so very much, and they were so deeply afraid of him becoming one of 'them'?

What if — even after discovering his true nature and finally thriving among like-minded people — that boy was still forced to 'present' as what his family members considered to be 'normal' whenever he was around them. And as a result, every time he was forced to return to them, he became depressed and felt alone all over again, always pining to return to the place where he could REALLY be himself?

It's especially bizarre to me that someone who once spent years speaking out against the hatred and ostracization and fear thrown at our gay population can then turn around and do EXACTLY ALL OF THAT to another queer demographic.

Like: How the fuck does she not see that she's the very thing she previously hated and railed against? How the fuck.... ???

[mad-raptorzzz]

making more WOF AUs of things I like

this time it’s the Red Queen and Lunar Chronicles books

First up Red Queen. Some dragons have red blood. But animus dragons have silver blood. If an animus has an egg with a non animus, they get a non animus dragonet. This has resulted in silver blooded dragons considering themselves elite and only breeding other silver blooded dragons. Species has nothing to do with it, all that matters is the blood. In this AU, no dragons can breathe fire or ice breath, and RainWings don’t have any of their abilities either. In fact, even fire wielding dragons can’t make their own fire. They have to carry striker stones with them on their wrists and tails to start a spark. Stronger animus mating pairs means stronger dragonets. But maybe these silver blooded animus dragons have been covering something up, maybe red blooded dragons can wield animus magic too. Some even more powerful than theirs…

Mare Barrow: Sky/Night/Mud/Leaf. Her NightWing traits are most dominant. Red blooded. Can wield lightning, which is purple in color.

Shade Barrow: Sky/Night/Mud/Leaf. SkyWing traits most dominant. Can teleport short distances. Very speedy.

Maven Calore: Sky/Ice. He’s a good mix, but his IceWing traits are quite noticeable when compared to his brother. Very Pale. Fire wielder, his fire is blue.

Tiberias Calore VII: Sky/Sand. But you’d honestly never tell, he looks nearly 100% SkyWing. Fire wielded with red fire. Definitely dad’s favorite due to his SkyWing predominance.

Evangeline Samos: Hive/Rain. She’s a good mix, perfectly balanced. Metal wielder. Tbh one of my favorite characters I love her sass.

I’ll come up with more when I start my re-read after finishing Iron Flame (almost done).

Now the Lunar Chronicles: A long time ago, ancient dragons developed a way for travel in space with great flying machines. This allowed a subset of the population to colonize the moon. This was before the dragon species had fully settled into modern day. The dragons who left for the moon became what are now called NightWings. The radiation of the moon, which was unknown to the dragons until many years of living there, granted them with special powers to manipulate others impressions of them. Some can read minds and catch glimpses of the future. Powerful dragons can even control or manipulate others. Dragons living back on the home planet have become very wary of these so called NightWings or Lunar Dragons. They hardly ever come down from their moon, but when they do it always causes trouble. All the dragons in this AU retain their abilities. But all NightWings essentially have some form of power/animus magic. HiveWings simply evolved on their own without any NightWing genes. (I’m not set on them actually living on the moon yet, I may just have them live on another continent far away that is very exposed to the moon/moons and/or was made by a large chunk of old moon falling? Either way they get super moon exposure and are pretty isolated)

Linh Cinder: She’s a pure NightWing, however (and this is to better fit the AU and not have dragons immediately know she’s a NightWing) she’s leucistic. So she has very pale scales to begin with, moon blessed as her mother called her. She was also horribly burned as a hatchling, resulting in her being a cyborg dragon and nearly unrecognizable as a NightWing. She has an inhibitor chip blocking her abilities. Most dragons assume she is a mutt of many different tribes from the home planet, definitely some Ice and Sand and Rain and maybe Hive? She’s the long lost Princess if the NightWings, Selene. Scarlet Benoit-Kesley: Sky/Sand/Rain. And just a sprinkle of Night, which is unknown to her. She doesn’t have any ability of the NightWings. she’s a very skilled fighter, non-poisonous barbed tail and no venom or color change, but that doesn’t stop her from being deadly.

Crescent Moon Darnel: Night/Hive. She is a ‘shell’ or a NightWing without abilities. (Technically she’s a full blooded lunar in the books, but her mom is mysterious and unnamed. It was always my headcannon that her mom was either from earth or had some earthness to her, and I think she’d be a cute little Night/Hive hybrid) Wicked smart, a hacker. Pretty shy. But very loyal. Used to work for the Queen, but not anymore!

Winter Blackburn-Hayle: pure NightWing. Considered very beautiful by NightWing standards. Aka dark scales. She was forced to mutilate her own face by her step mother the Queen when she was a dragonet, resulting in three scars on the right side of her face. Does not ever use her NightWing powers Wolf: Night/Mud. From one of the packs of dragons the NightWings bred specifically for protection. They wanted the strength of MudWings with the loyalty to the NightWing throne. No special abilities, but very very strong.

Queen Levena Blackburn: Pure NightWing. Also very very very powerful in terms of NightWing gifts. Can control hundreds of dragons at a time. Uses her power to shield her true appearance due to flame burns on the majority of her left side. She’s very vain. And very evil. Cinder’s Aunt and Winter’s stepmother.

Wahoooooo. Who knows what obsession will be WOFed next. Stay tuned.

I think I’ll someday sketch all these things out.

[october-lady]

the familiar pain of unrequited love, part 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Rated: General

Summary: It's been two years since Natasha saw the woman she loves. She was about to see her again but unfortunately, the reason for that was grave danger her boyfriend was in. Adding a threat of the end of the world into the mix didn't help either.

We all know what happened in Infinity War. But let's look at it from Natasha's point of view.

Chapter: 1/2

Note: I can't promise you a happy ending. Because we know how it ends. I can promise you pain. I decided to divide this into two chapters, I guess to let you take a breath in between.

My wife was not happy with this, I can tell you that much. But it's not my fault. I'm blaming my friend Ashley. I read her old Swan Queen story that was similar and it just gave me inspiration. Which resulted in this and me analysing every scene of Infinity War.

Anyway, happy reading and as always, please, consider leaving a comment <3

Read on Ao3

The second Steve got the phone call and they found out Thanos was after Vision’s stone, Natasha felt sick. All her senses were alerted. Her stomach was twisting with anxiety, fear and, she would be lying if she denied that, some level of excitement.

She urged the two men to get on the quinjet as fast as they could. She insisted on being the one flying it, almost shoving Steve out of the way, muttering something about her being the one who got it in the first place anyway.

She just wanted to know they were going as fast as they could. She needed to keep her mind occupied. She needed to do something. Anything. Anything other than worrying because that wasn’t going to help anything.

Vision’s life was in danger. Or the soul stone, rather, but that’s what is keeping him alive. And seeing as Vision was currently on the run with Wanda, it was very clear that she was also at risk of, well, being killed.

Just the thought itself caused Natasha’s stomach to do another twist. She hasn’t seen the woman in about two years. Two long years of being on the run. They had very limited communication to keep the exposure to a minimum, only reporting that they were alive.

The message about Thanos didn’t come from them, it came from Tony, or Bruce, if you will. Which meant Wanda and Vision either didn’t know yet or… Or it was too late for them to alert the Avengers.

Natasha didn’t want to think about that. No. That wasn’t an option. Just because Vision shut down his communication channels and they stopped reporting themselves didn’t mean something was wrong. It just meant that… The woman closed her eyes for a second, trying to push that thought away. It just meant that the unusual couple didn’t want to be found, didn’t want to be disturbed, they just wanted to be alone.

At first Natasha thought that those rumours were bullshit. Wanda, a human, couldn’t date Vision, a robot. That was ridiculous. Or wasn’t it? Wanda wasn’t a normal human though, she had superpowers.

Natasha still couldn’t wrap her head around that. Super strength and speed, sure, she could believe that. But moving things with one’s mind, controlling people’s thoughts, that was too much for her.

And yet. And yet the young brunette hasn’t left her mind since the day they met. Sure, they didn’t start as friends. Wanda caused Natasha unimaginable pain by bringing out her darkest memories. Seeing as they were on the opposite sides at that time, Natasha didn’t blame her. It took a while but they got past that.

The more she trained the young woman, the more time she spent with her, the more she was on her mind.

It was wrong. Natasha realised that. Falling for someone was bad enough, it meant split attention, thinking about the other person and how the outcome of a fight would affect them.

Falling for a member of your team was worse. It meant that if they were fighting alongside each other, part of her was always keeping an eye on Wanda, making sure she was okay, making sure she didn’t need her help, even though she knew the woman could kill her with a snap of her fingers.

The quinjet was faster than a normal plane but the flight from New York to Scotland still took a couple hours which left Natasha with a lot of time to wonder what it would be like seeing the woman again and how much it would hurt, seeing her with Vision.

Judging by just her thoughts, a lot.

But that is something she could dwell on later.

“Touching down in one minute,” she called in the back to alert Steve and Sam. She had to get her head back into the fight, to focus on what they might encounter. Aliens were her least favourite to fight. You could never guess what to expect, the weapons they could have and the powers they could possess.

The jet landed as close to the location they got on the couple as possible. They ran into the train station to find a couple of funny looking people, if that’s what they were and without thinking, started to fight.

They couldn’t see Wanda and Vision at first. But that didn’t matter. That didn’t mean anything.

Focus.

Immediate danger.

Fight.

She caught the spear Steve threw at her as she was running to the alien. She pierced him with it without thinking.

Another one.

She threw it back to Steve as she was battling him in hand to hand combat, pulling out her batons.

It was a short fight. Sam managed to knock one down with his wing and they disappeared into the night sky, along with their spears.

He was the first one reaching the couple they were there for. Vision was lying on the ground, leaning against the railing and Wanda was crouching next to him, holding his hand.

“Can you stand?” Sam questioned the android before he even got to them. Natasha and Steve were right behind him.

And then she saw her. She dyed her hair. It wasn’t brown anymore. It was a light shade of red, more like ginger even. A strawberry red, is that what they call it?

She swapped black dresses and knee high socks for more comfortable jeans and a long cardigan. Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. She looked good and she hadn't even seen her properly.

Sam and Wanda were helping the injured android on his feet now. That’s when the younger woman first turned her head around and their eyes locked. For just a split second. Natasha could see fear and panic. She could also see the long slash above Wanda’s eye, just a bit lower and she would have lost it…

She couldn’t look at her. She turned around, pretending to be checking their surroundings.

—----

They made it on the jet. She let one of the men fly back. She didn’t care anymore. She wanted to be around Wanda, despite her best judgement. She knew she shouldn’t. She knew she should get back into the pilot seat, as far away from the woman as possible. But she couldn’t. Something morbid and self destructive forced her to be around her. To be around the woman who entered her dreams every night. She was finally there, within reach, she could touch her, she could smell her perfume.

Yet she still couldn’t have her.

Because the woman was in love with someone else.

Natasha stood by the closing door as they were taking off, watching the disappearing lights of the scottish city underneath them.

“I thought,” she started as the door closed, “we had a deal. Stay close, check in,” she snarled that between her teeth, “don’t take any chances.” She turned around. She had to get away.

“Sorry…” Wanda said weakly. “We just wanted time,” her voice was shaking. She was sitting next to Vision, holding on to him like that could fix him.

Natasha didn’t even look at her. She couldn’t. It hurt. It hurt because that’s what she wanted. Time. Time with the woman. Away. She wanted what Vision had. Time with the woman who made her heart jump, away from everyone, away from all the fighting.

She walked past Steve, ignoring the look he was giving her. He didn’t say anything. He knew her better than that, he knew there was no point. He could see she was upset. He just raised his eyebrow slightly, it was a question really. Are you okay? But he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

So she stormed off, joining Sam at the front for a while. They sat in silence, him focusing on flying and Natasha lost in her thoughts.

She got restless after about an hour and went back into the main part of the jet. Wanda was still in the same position.

Natasha sighed. She pulled out the first aid kit and walked over to her, sitting right next to her on the bench.

“Let me clean that up for you,” she said softly with a sad smile as she pointed at the nasty cut on Wanda’s face. It was a peace offering.

Wanda nodded and turned around to give her better access. She let go of Vision’s hand for the first time.

“You were lucky,” Natasha said as she gently dabbed disinfection on the wound, making sure it wouldn’t get infected.

“Yeah,” Wanda smiled at her. “Yeah, I guess I was.” She hissed when the alcohol in it made it into the cut.

“Sorry,” the blonde said. “Pain only makes us stronger,” she added, her face turning into a painful smirk.

Wanda’s eyes looked at her closely, inspecting her, like she was looking for something.

“Are you okay?” She asked when she didn’t figure it out.

“Of course,” Natasha replied, looking down, quickly busying herself with the butterfly stitches. If that were true, she would be the strongest person alive because pain was the only thing she felt.

When she looked up, Wanda was still looking at her, her lips in a thin line, clearly not believing her but decided against pressing her.

Natasha quickly placed a few of the stitches along the cut, carefully pressing it to her skin. Her fingers lingered over the spot for a bit, aching for more. She wanted to trace her face, to feel the soft skin, to hold her cheek in her hand, to pull her closer. Her eyes flicked to Wanda’s lips for a second.

Instead, she just pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“There. You’ll be perfect again soon enough.”

Wanda’s cheeks coloured with a light shade of red as she dropped her eyes shyly and played with her hair.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, giving Natasha a genuine smile.

There it was again.

Pain.

Pain in her chest, like a million needles stabbing her heart.

A smile she longed for yet at the same time it was the cause of her heartache.

—-----

They made it into the Avengers tower. She pushed her feelings away, away into a box, deep down.

There was no time for this. The world was in danger and they had a job to do. That’s what she had to focus on. Not on the redhead woman wearing ripped jeans that fit her impossibly well.

They found Rhodey on a call with Ross, of course. Seeing that man, even if he was just a hologram, cheered her up. She did enjoy insulting him a bit too much.

She could feel Wanda’s eyes bearing into the back of her head.

No.

Rhodey.

That’s what she had to focus on. She was happy to see the man after all, so much so that she went in for a hug.

“Wow… You guys really look like crap,” he said after looking at all of them.

Wanda looks beautiful, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. She focused on his face instead.

“Must’ve been a rough couple of years,” he added and Natasha’s head spun around to look at the rest of her group.

“I think you look great,” a new voice made her turn back. Of course.

Of course he would be here, he was the one who called them after all.

“Bruce,” she said, still slightly surprised.

“Yeah…I’m back. Nat,” he greeted her, singling her out of the group.

“Now this is awkward,” Sam whispered to Steve.

She sighed and turned away.

Great.

Now that’s a party.

—---------

They were discussing what to do with the stone. That was what Thanos wanted after all, not Vision.

Bruce, as the resident scientist now that Tony was flung into space, explained to them as best as he could what the stone meant and why Thanos might possibly want it.

“Well then, we have to protect it,” Natasha said, her voice not leaving any space for arguing.

As much as she didn’t care for Vision himself, she did care for the world and humanity and it was her job to protect it.

And, even though it pained her to admit it to herself, she cared about Wanda. And Wanda cared about Vision so she was going to do everything in her power to make sure that man was okay. The last thing she wanted was to see Wanda heartbroken because she lost someone, again.

“No, we have to destroy it,” Vision said. Everyone looked at him. They didn’t have to be scientists to know what it would mean, what it would mean for him.

She could feel the panic from Wanda when he said it. When he even just touched the subject of how the stone would have to be destroyed.

Natasha’s heart broke for that woman.

She knew Wanda was powerful. But she didn’t realise that the only thing capable of destroying the soul stone in Vision’s head was the woman who loved him.

Oh God.

This couldn’t be, could it?

Maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Bruce jumped in, explaining Vision’s mind. If they managed to remove the stone, Wanda wouldn’t have to kill him…

“Can we do that?” Natasha asked, hope in her voice. She knew she had no chance with the woman. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want her to be happy, even if that hurt. Because seeing Wanda happy hurt less than seeing her in pain.

“Not here, not me,” Bruce shook his head.

She could feel the weight immediately return to her chest.

—------------------

They were on their way to Wakanda.

Wanda and Vision were sitting together, Vision still hurt from the alien blade. Everyone else was preparing for a battle that was sure to come.

Natasha watched them from the corner of her eye.

They have been attached to each other the whole time. It was understandable, really. An alien was after something that was essentially powering Vision and keeping him alive which in itself would cause a lot of worry and anxiety not only in him but Wanda as well. And as a result of a, potential, success, half of the universe would just… disappear.

“Hey,” Wanda suddenly appeared by Natasha. She sat down next to her, in the corner, hidden from everyone else.

“Hey,” Natasha was surprised to see her. She quickly looked at Vision but he looked like he was sleeping, if that was even possible.

They sat there in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to say next.

“I like your vest,” Wanda pointed to her newest suit addition.

“Thanks,” Natasha smiled, smoothing it down. “It was a gift. It has a lot of pockets,” she said, looking up at the other woman with almost a child-like excitement in her eyes.

“Yeah?” Wanda smiled back at her. “Must be a special someone for you to wear it on a mission.”

“She is very special,” she smiled, looking into the distance for a second, “she’s family.”

“Oh. I didn’t realise you had…” The younger woman trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to finish it. She didn’t want to sound like she assumed Natasha was all alone in the world. She also didn’t want it to sound like she was surprised Natasha had family.

“Neither did I. But I guess life is full of surprises, isn’t it,” she brushed it off.

“Yes,” Wanda nodded, taking the hint that this was all she was getting, at least now.

They sat in silence again, unsure of what to say. They didn’t used to have this problem. But that’s probably what happens when you spend two years on the run, away from each other, only reuniting when the world is about the end.

“How are you holding up?” Natasha finally said, carefully watching Wanda’s face, looking out for any sign she was about to lie.

But she didn’t lie. There was no point. Instead, she looked at Vision before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m not,” it was barely a whisper, a very shaky one.

Natasha wasn’t surprised. She didn’t expect anything less. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. She wished she could say that it would all be okay, that everything will be fine, they’ll fix Vision in Wakanda and defeat Thanos and live happily ever after.

She wanted to brush Wanda’s hair out of her face and wrap her arms around her and hold her until there wasn’t a single threat in the world.

She wanted to feel her soft skin and smell her shampoo, let her long hair tickle her face and kiss the cut that was still on her forehead.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she squeezed her hand.

Nothing else. Because there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that would make her feel better, that would change anything.

So they just sat there, Natasha still holding her hand.

Until the younger woman broke the silence.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it… I don’t know what I would do without you,” she smiled at her, tears in her eyes.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She was sure her voice would betray her. Her insides were screaming at her in pain.

So close.

Yet so far.

And then Wanda let go of her hand and leaned forward. Before she could do anything about it, Wanda’s arms were wrapped around her in a tight hug.

Natasha gave in. She squeezed back. She nuzzled her face in the soft red hair. The smell of lavender that was so unmistakably Wanda filled her senses and made her feel dizzy.

She held tight on to her. Because what does it matter if they were going to die anyway.

She could feel Wanda pull away after a while. She looked at her with pain in her eyes. A different kind of pain, different than there was before.

It was like slow motion. Natasha could see her lift her hand. She could feel it on her face as she pushed her short blonde hair aways from her face.

“Oh Nat…” She whispered. A tear spilled out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” her hand was still cupping Natasha’s face, as if to say something her words couldn’t.

Natasha wasn’t confused. She knew. She knew what Wanda just realised. She could feel tears burning in her own eyes.

“Touching down in 2 minutes,” someone yelled.

“It’s okay,” the older woman whispered with a sad smile. She turned her head and placed a kiss into Wanda’s palm before she wiped her tears off and got up to prepare for landing.

----

Part 2

[neonacity]

Black Daisies: Chapter 1

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23. 

Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings. 

TW: violence, death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. 

Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here--they’re all sweetiepies that need to be protected! 

That’s all! Enjoy! 

Slight static sounded from the earpiece as the woman behind a computer pressed a small button to activate it. A few miles away from her, the same low hum could be heard from the ear of a young man as the line came alive. The boy barely moved from the shadows where he was crouching, his head twitching just a little bit at the alert. 

“Haechan, target just entered from the main hall, door A,” a voice sounded from the small electronic bud attached to his ear. His eyes lifted to look at the shadowy pillars above his head where a quick glint of light confirmed that another boy hidden there heard the same words. 

“Got it, noona. Plan C?”

“Plan C. Where are Jisung and Chenle?”

“Two floors down from us. Jaemin’s with them. Renjun’s done with the wires.”

“Jeno, you good?”

Up above the rafters from Haechan’s head, a darker shade of shadows moved. The metallic glint flashed again, followed by a low sigh that could be heard from the earpieces of the two people involved in the conversation.

“So I can’t use my gun again?”

“No. I already told you, right? What’s family rule number 2?” The female voice answered from the other end of the line, a tinge of laughter lacing her tone. Haechan giggled softly from beneath the rafters, enjoying the banter. 

“....we don’t shoot people in the head and kill them.” 

“That’s right.” From her screen, the woman’s eyes followed the movements of their targets as the man boarded the elevator that would take him straight to the penthouse of the high rise building. Her nose wrinkled a bit as she watched him wound his arms around two giggling women who look half his age. 

Disgusting. 

“...there’s something we can do though…”

Haechan tightened the scruff of his gloves as he heard the soft hum of the elevator climbing closer to where he and Jeno are. He smirked slightly to himself as the welcome ding from the penthouse reverberated just one floor below them.

“We put them in their right place.”

“Good luck, boys.” 

A soft buzzing sound indicated the earpiece temporarily being turned off the same time loud explosions sounded from the floor and roof of the penthouse.

“Noona!” 

I whipped around on my creaky swivel chair to face the group that just bounded through the door, wide grin plastered on my face. The blonde boy who called my name closed the distance between us with his long, excited strides, cheeks plump from his smile. 

“Look what I got you! Pretty nice, eh?” He asked with pride as he took a seat beside me, opening his palm to show a blood red stone nestled there. I moved a little forward to squint at it before gingerly picking it up. 

“Red diamond. I think two carats, at least. Wow, that’s impressive, Chenle! Thank you.”

The boy’s grin widened as he turned to the others who just settled on the scattered chairs and bean bags across the plain cement floor. 

“See? I told you she’d like it!” 

“We almost got busted because he wanted to take it.” Another boy with light purplish hair piped up from one of the bean bags on the ground. It’s adorable how only half of his body could fit on it, leaving him with no choice but to splay his long legs on the floor. 

“Did not.” 

“Did yes.” 

“Shut up, Jisung. You’re just jealous I’m the one who got it for her tonight.”

I chuckled from my seat, rolling the princess cut diamond against my palm. The kids always do this--if it’s not Chenle who is giving gifts from their little rendezvous, it was the others. It was a sweet act, at least if anyone counts out the fact that it came from ransacking a high profile businessman’s penthouse.

“Who wants some ramen? I’m starving.” A black-haired boy asked from across the room where a counter was set-up to serve as the headquarters’ kitchen. Five heads whipped up and gave various forms of yes, making him turn towards the group, one hand on his hip. 

“Yah, Lee Haechan. Help me cook.”

A groan sounded from the leather couch as the boy in question winced at the request.

“But I’m tired. I detonated two bombs today!”

“And I had to unlock three high-security safes. Come on.” 

I chuckled as I watched Haechan pull himself up from the couch, his boots still on. Three consecutive beeps from the monitor behind me made me turn back towards the table again, fingers tapping over some keys to review the message.

“Noona, how about you? You want some?”

“No, thanks, Jaemin. Just ate,” I flashed him a quick smile before turning to read the notification on the screen. Slowly, the corners of my lips lifted into a full grin as my eyes finished scanning the words. 

“127’s back from Tokyo. They got the goods well and secured.”

“Whoah, really? I gotta ask Mark-hyung if he was able to get me my favorite chips!” A boy with black and white hair said as he swiped his phone up from the back of his pants pocket to send a quick message. Beside him, Jeno propped his head up from one of the love chairs, looking at me. 

“Who sent the message?” 

“Doyoung.” 

“Did he--”

“P.S. Tell Jeno I got him the silencer he wants,” I read the closing note on the message with an amused eye roll and a smile. Jeno gave an excited whoop from behind me, clearly excited over his new toy. 

I quickly shot a reply to the message, making sure to give them a quick update from my end. A green logo flashed after I hit send, a special kind of cyber filter that automatically deletes all traces of conversation that passes through my computer at my command. My eyes registered the familiar three letters before it flickered and glitched to black. 

NCT. 

For anyone living a mundane life, those three letters might be senseless. However, it’s a different case altogether for anyone who is in any shape or form involved with the underground. It’s a name that is often said in low whispers of reverence… or spat with spite. Whichever of the two, the name itself only means one thing to those who know it: the top mafia group ruling the underground of Seoul--if not the whole of Korea. 

The “family,” as I’d  like to call it, is divided into three different smaller sub-groups of varying specializations and activities. First is 127, the primary group in power over Seoul. The unit specializes in drug dealings, assassinations, and smuggling of firearms, and its members are also the ones managing the many businesses (both legal and illegal) falling under the protection of NCT. As the group with the most experienced members, they are also the ones who often go across countries like Japan where they also have their own hold. Limitations and Prohibitions: none.

The second group; Dream. Despite having the youngest members, the sub-group also has its own chokehold over the city of Seoul. Specialization: Heists and Ambushes. It doesn’t matter if it is a high-tech bank or a high-walled fortress like Alcatraz--once Dream sets its sights on a bounty, they’ll make sure to get it. Limitations and Prohibitions: no killing allowed. 

Finally, the third cluster: WayV; the current ruling crime group of China. Specialization: Organized Cyber crimes and biological warfare . While the sub-group has its original roots in Korea, it didn’t have any problem taking over Beijing’s underground in a few years time. They are considered the visionaries of the family--always one step ahead when it comes to anything technology touches and influences. Limitations and Prohibitions: none.

I leaned back against the chair and gave a soft sigh. Compared to the others, I don’t have as much exposure to the so-called thrills of the job. Still, I do admit that being the eyes and ears of the whole group is not a leisurely walk in the park. It’s been a few months of being temporarily assigned to Dream, but with 127 back, work will surely double again in no time. Not that I’m complaining with how well the job pays, of course--I did get a blood red diamond today, after all--but things sure can get tough sometimes. 

Lifting my arms up, I gave myself a well-deserved stretch before kicking back from the desk. The smell of ramen hit my nose, making me smile. Another day, another job well done. 

“Hey Jaemin, changed my mind about that ramen. I think I’ll have it after all.” 

Chapter 2: Overture

[animationnut]

Of Broken Spirits and Renewed Hope

Spoilers for True Colors.

Rating: K+ Summary: Three human girls arrived in Amphibia. Only one made it back home. Note: If Google has any degree of accuracy, นางฟ้า is Thai for angel.

“Home.”

Anne felt her vocal cords vibrate in her throat, felt her tongue curve around the syllable of the word, felt her lips as they moved to accommodate her vocal cords and her tongue. But she was speaking from instinct, not intent, as her brain swam in a haze of mixed colours—green, pink and blue, and the orange glow of a blazing sword—

Anne could feel herself wavering on the edge, practically see the black abyss threatening to swallow her whole, but three harsh coughs interrupted her dark spiral.

“What’s that smell?” rasped Polly, covering her nose as she wheezed. Her gags racked her small form and Hop Pop quickly whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to cover Polly’s face.

The buzzing in Anne’s ears stopped and the world exploded with sound and sensation.

Dozens of horns blared from commuters who were impatient and annoyed with traffic that should have been as familiar to them as the back of their hands. Heat seared Anne’s exposed skin as the metal of the vehicle they were lying on burned from the exposure to the Californian sun. Exhaust rose in black clouds, sour and noxious, burning Anne’s nose and making her eyes water.

There was the click of the car door opening and Anne snapped her head around. The portly man gazed blankly at her as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was witnessing. With a boggled expression, he looked between the girl wearing an armoured chest plate and the three large, anthropomorphic frogs sitting next to her.

“Hi,” chirped Anne, managing to sound upbeat and cheerful. “Sorry, dude. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Where did you come from?” he asked. Anne couldn’t identify his dialect, but his accent coupled with the maple leaf-shaped air freshener and his outfit screamed ‘tourist’. “And what the heck are those?”

Sprig opened his mouth, no doubt to introduce himself, but Anne seized the Plantars in a one-arm hold, squeezing just tightly enough for speech to be difficult. “Sorry,” she repeated, using her free hand to snag the strap of her backpack.

She slid down the hood and if it weren’t for months of walking over sticks, stones and hard, uneven ground, the hot asphalt seeping through her worn-out sock might have crumpled her. But she ignored the pain as she swung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of Frobo’s deactivated head nearly sent her sprawling, but she regained her balance and took off running.

She weaved her way through the bumper-to-bumper traffic, climbing over vans and sports cars and SUVs, ignoring the shouts and curses aimed her way by the disgruntled owners. She reached the metal barrier that separated the embankment from the freeway and she hoisted herself over it.

They tumbled down the grassy slope and Anne sprinted through the trees. The sounds of human civilization eventually quieted and Anne halted her sprint when she registered Sprig smacking at her arm.

She quickly let them go and they dropped to the ground. Anne’s knees buckled as the adrenaline drained right out of her. Her mind was a mess of thoughts and her lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

The flaming blade piercing through Marcy’s chest. The stunned expression in Marcy’s eyes, the way all colour faded from her face. The tears that spilled down her cheeks, and the final words that tumbled from her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Anne’s agonized scream was promptly choked by the vomit that filled her mouth.

Hop Pop was by her side in an instant, hands gripping her shoulders as she hunched over and hacked into the grass. Her throat burned and her limbs trembled, the sight of Marcy falling lifeless and the sound of Sasha’s horrified howl haunting her.

The sobs that pealed out of her came from somewhere deep inside the girl. They were filled with pure loss and devastation and it echoed amongst the towering trees. Tears poured down Anne’s face, snot leaked from her nose as she cried and her fists pounded into the grass as emotion overcame her.

“Marcy!” she wailed. “Marcy, nooooo! Maaaaarcyyyy!”

Hop Pop wound his arms securely around her neck and pulled her close. Sprig and Polly clung to her, and all of his grandchildren were in a state of grief, tears glimmering on their skin and their small bodies shaking.

Hop Pop swallowed back his own sadness. As traumatizing as it had been to see a child slain in front of his eyes, he had to be strong for his family. He stroked Anne’s hair, patted Sprig and Polly’s heads, and gave comfort not with words but his presence.

Anne cried herself hoarse. When she found she had run out of tears to shed, she weakly sat up and wiped at her face. “It’s not fair,” she said croakily. “Hop Pop, it’s not fair.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” Hop Pop rubbed his thumb gently over Anne’s knuckles.

“She sacrificed herself to save us,” said Sprig, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of despair. “Her and Sasha.”

Anne gave a distraught moan, her head bowing slightly as the weight of two worlds crushed against her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” ordered Hop Pop, and Anne reluctantly lifted her chin. “We don’t know what happened to Sasha. She’s a tough one. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“We don’t know that!” shouted Anne, her voice cracking. “Marcy should have been fine, but she isn’t! She’s dead, and Sasha might be too! This isn’t how it was supposed to go! We were supposed to come home together!”

She began to dry heave, stress and panic and grief clenching tight around her heart and making her feel sick. Hop Pop grabbed her face with both hands and stared steadily into her wet eyes. “Breathe with me. In and out.”

Anne’s first attempts resulted in strangled gasps, but eventually she gained control of her breathing. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.

“We worry about that later,” said Hop Pop firmly.

“But what about Andrias? And if Sasha is still alive—”

“Anne, right now, none of us are in a state to do much of anything,” said Hop Pop calmly. “To be honest, I don’t know if we can do anything.”

Anne blinked at him before realization hit. “The music box is still in Amphibia.”

Polly was crestfallen. “Does that mean we’ll never be able to go home?”

“What about Bessie and MicroAngelo?” asked Sprig desperately. “And Ivy! I didn’t get to say goodbye to Ivy!”

“Hush,” said Hop Pop soothingly, pulling Sprig and Polly into his arms. “The townspeople will take care of our snails, and I’m sure Ivy will understand, Sprig. As for going back home, I don’t know.” He let out a heavy sigh, feeling every year of his existence weigh down his bones. “Maybe we can figure something out. But if we can’t, we have each other. Home is where we are, even if we aren’t in Wartwood.”

He swept his eyes over his grandchildren, biological and adopted, and saw the words provided little peace in the moment of intense sorrow. But he knew they would come to appreciate how fortuitous it was that they returned to Anne’s world as a family, even when the losses they suffered hung darkly over their thoughts.

Anne was staring numbly at the ground and Hop Pop tugged lightly at her elbow. She fell easily into his embrace, as if she were made of nothing but feathers, and her forehead rested against the top of his head. For a moment they just stayed there, Anne’s body radiating warmth and causing Polly and Sprig to nestle closer to her, seeking her familiar heat.

Polly was the first one to hear the musical twinkling. She blinked over at Anne’s backpack. “Anne, your bag is singing.”

Anne slowly turned to follow Polly’s gaze, and it took her several seconds to register the noise. Suddenly it was as if a live wire had touched her and jolted to action, shrieking, “My phone!”

The Plantars were jostled as she dove for her bag. She ripped Frobo’s head out and Polly said furiously, “Hey! Don’t treat him like he’s junk!”

But Anne barely heard her. She plunged her hand into her bag, the bristles of her brush and points of her bobby pins sticking her flesh. Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she yanked it out.

Her text alert, which she hadn’t heard in months, was jarring to her ears. The notification center on her phone was being flooded by dozens and dozens of texts, missed calls and voicemail alerts. They poured in so fast Anne was only able to glimpse the names attached before they were replaced by another batch of notifications.

The majority of the texts were from Sasha, Marcy and Anne’s parents. There were a couple from the local police station, which caused Anne’s stomach to grow cold with fear. She hadn’t even considered the consequences of literally disappearing off the face of the Earth.

And then her phone froze, unable to keep up with the backlog of messages coming in all at once. Frustrated, Anne stabbed at her screen with her finger, but it was no use.

Her eyes fell upon the last text to make it to her notification center. It was from her mother.

Oh, นางฟ้า, your father and I miss you so much. We pray for a sign that you and the girls are alive, and that you will return home soon.

“Oh, Mommy,” whispered Anne, her fingers digging into the rubber material of her phone case.

Hop Pop approached and set a hand against her back. “Let’s go see your parents,” he said softly.

“But I don’t even know what to say to them,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know if they’ll understand. It’s…the things I’ve been through, the things we’ve been through, they don’t happen here. Not ever.”

“Well, we’re here to help you explain things,” said Sprig earnestly.

“Yeah, I’m…I think I might need some time to prepare them for you three,” muttered Anne. “They are so gonna freak out.” She glanced back at her frozen screen, and her heart plummeted as she read the most recent message from Marcy’s father. “Oh, how do I tell them?” she said in despair. “How do I tell Sasha’s parents that I had to leave her behind? How do I tell Marcy’s parents that their daughter is…is…”

Her voice wobbled and her eyes started to sting once more. Anne wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the energy nor the water for proper tears. Hop Pop gently set her phone back in her bag, which Anne allowed without protest. He laced his fingers with hers and said, “We���ll tell them the truth, Anne. That’s all we can do. We’ll tell ‘em how brave their daughters are.”

Anne gave a sniff. She tugged her hand free from Hop Pop’s grasp so she could rub at her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”

She took a few minutes to gather herself, to try and clumsily sort through the heavy emotions swirling in her chest. She wanted to mourn, but there wasn’t time. She had to see her parents, had to tell them what happened.

“So, how long have you been gone?” asked Polly in a small voice, embarrassed by her earlier outburst. “Does time work the same way here?”

“Um…I don’t know.” Anne gestured to her pink backpack, where her phone was once again nestled safely inside. “It froze on me, so I can’t check the calendar or anything. And I didn’t get to see the dates on the first few rounds of texts.” She looked over to see the pollywog nuzzling Frobo’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Polly. I shouldn’t have thrown him around like that.”

“S’okay,” mumbled Polly. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just really sad and upset right now.”

“Me too.” Anne leaned over and brought Polly into her arms, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. “I’m sorry, Polly. Maybe we can fix him.”

“Yeah,” piped up Sprig. “He just needs a new body, right? When we get home, we can go back to that weird machine place and get him a fresh one.”

Polly perked up at that. “Yeah…yeah!” she said. “If we keep his head safe, we can rebuild him!”

There was hope in her eyes. It glimmered and shone and Anne found herself hypnotized by it.

Something flickered in her heart.

“Until then, we’ll do what we can here.”

Hop Pop, Polly and Sprig looked at her in surprise. The teen’s chin was set, her mouth settled in a determined line. “Anne?” ventured her best friend. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not just going to sit here and wait,” said Anne. Her own hope ignited, and the spark soon blazed throughout her whole being. “I’m not gonna just do nothing.” She set Polly down and stood, her fists clenched by her sides. “You’re right, Hop Pop. Sasha’s fine. Marcy…Marcy made the mistake of turning her back to Andrias, but that wasn’t her fault. Sasha won’t do that. She’ll find a way to take the box from that monster and open the portal again.

“But until she figures that out, I gotta do my part. That music box came to Earth somehow. The thrift store where Marcy found it, they had a wardrobe with the Amphibia symbol engraved into the wood. And Marcy knew what the box could do, which meant she found some information about it somewhere.”

She thought about Wartwood, her home away from home. She thought about Wally, Mrs. Croaker, Archie, Bessie, MicroAngelo, Toadstool, Toadie, Loggle, Ivy, Sylvia, Felicia, Stumpy, Maddie and the rest of her friends from the humble country town. She thought about Sasha, who despite her need for control and her habit of lying to get what she wanted, came through for her friends in the end.

She thought about Marcy.

She had tricked them into leaving their parents, their lives, and trapping them in a world so beyond imagination that Anne never in a million years would have dreamed it up. She had done it because she was so scared to lose the friends she loved most, so desperate to stay with Sasha and Anne forever.

She had been inconsiderate. She had been selfish.

So had Anne. So had Sasha. Marcy didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes—none of them did. They were just three teen girls who sometimes did stupid, stupid things.

But they cared about each other—Anne believed that. Even if it was misguided, even if it was manipulative, she knew Sasha and Marcy cared about her—they sometimes just went about it in all the wrong ways.

And even though Marcy was the reason they were in this mess in the first place, and even though Sasha’s trickery was the reason Anne didn’t initially believe her about Andrias, she cared about them, too.

Right now, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to be friends with Sasha after all she had done. It didn’t matter that she still stung over Marcy’s own manipulative scheme to take her friends away from everything they ever knew.

However complicated her emotions currently were, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still care about the two girls she’d shared her most precious memories with.

She was going to find a way to get back to Amphibia. She was going to save her friends. She was going to bring her frog family back home. She was going to save Amphibia and countless other worlds from Andrias’ tyranny.

She wouldn’t let anyone else she loved die by his hands.

“We’re not helpless!” she said fiercely. “We won’t let him make us helpless! We’re gonna stop him!”

Her pupils and irises illuminated a bright blue.

“They did it again!” exclaimed Polly.

Anne blinked and the colour of her eyes returned to normal. “What?”

“Your eyes! They did the funny light-up thing! Are you gonna turn blue again?”

Anne flexed her fingers, but she didn’t feel numb or tingly, like she had when Andrias had thrown Sprig out the window. “No, I don’t think so.” She glanced down at her hands, brow furrowed. “To be honest, I have no idea how that happened. I don’t even really remember it? I mean, I know what I did, but it felt like I wasn’t in my body while I was doing it.”

Sprig looked between Polly and Anne in confusion. “I clearly missed something when I was falling to my death.”

“Oh, it was so cool, Sprig! Anne went all glowy, and she was using blue magic, and she was flying! She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias!” said Polly excitedly.

The words reverberated through Anne’s mind; She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias.

She could beat him. She was still connected to her stone, and that fact seemed to cause Andrias great unease.

“Do you think you’d be able to use those powers again, Anne?” asked Hop Pop, following her same train of thought.

“I’ll learn,” said Anne firmly. “I’ll figure it out. Once I get control of my powers, Andrias won’t stand a chance.”

There was no question of whether or not she’d be able to gain control of her newfound abilities—she had to. It was her best bet to defeat Amphibia’s king.

Sprig tilted his head to the side. “Do you know what activated them in the first place?”

Anne regarded him, intense warmth and adoration bubbling in her stomach, and she gave a soft smile. “You. When he threw you out the window, I thought you were dead, and I was so angry.”

At a momentary loss for words, Sprig’s eyes filled with touched tears and he jumped into her arms. “Oh, Anne.”

“I love you,” said Anne passionately. She lowered to her knees and brought Hop Pop and Polly into her steel embrace. “I love all of you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“We love you too,” said Hop Pop tenderly, lightly running his fingers through her curly hair. “That’s what we’ve got over Andrias—love for one another. Pardon the sappiness of it, but that’s what we’ll use to beat him.”

“It’s not sappy at all,” said Anne. “It’s the truth.” She gave them one more tight squeeze before setting them back down. She grabbed her backpack, swinging it over her shoulders, and she picked up Frobo’s head. “Come on. I’ve kept Mom and Dad waiting long enough. I can’t wait for you guys to meet each other.”

They headed back to the freeway, where Anne hoped one of the stuck commuters would be willing to lend her their cell phone so she could call her parents to pick them up. As they made their way up the littered slope, Anne closed her eyes briefly.

Hang on, Wartwood. I’m coming back for you. Do what you can until I get there, Sasha. I know you can do it—you never give up.

A lump swelled in her throat, and she swallowed back a sob.

We won’t let him win, Marcy. I promise we won’t. You saved us, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t return the favour.

A breeze kicked up, ruffling her thick, curly hair, and in the caress of the wind she swore she could hear a carefree giggle and a sweet summons of Anna-Banana. She let out a slow breath, and a lone tear spilled from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.

I forgive you, Mar-Mar. I forgive you.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 1

Disclaimer: It's been a while since I watched DP and the only Batman/DC stuff I've interacted with are B:TAS, the JL cartoons, and what I got from fandom osmosis so don't expect any sort of canon compliance.

In Which: the author takes advantage of the passage of time in Nanda Parbat being wonky and Danny doesn't give up, per se, but is sort of resigned to being stuck with the League of Assassins until further notice.

AO3 | Prologue | [ 1 ] | 2 |

CW for descriptions of non-consensual drug use (if there's anything you guys would like me to tag, please tell me)

-----

WHEN SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH DANNY’S LIFE, it was usually because of one or two things: Ghosts or Vlad. And considering their truce and how even Vlad wouldn’t go this far (at least, Danny hoped), Danny was kidnapped because of ghosts. Or his association with ghosts.

Though how an organization of ninja-assassins got wind of his ‘unique’ circumstance was beyond him. The shackles they slapped on his wrists were more a formality than anything after the second time he tried to escape them with intangibility. The only reason they managed to get him contained the entire trip from Amity Park to wherever the fuck Nanda Parbat lay was because of the cocktail of drugs they pumped into his system spiked with blood blossoms.

Danny had to give it to them. The League of Assassins might not have any anti-ecto weaponry, but they did their homework.

He barely remembered the trip. He catches flashes—blurry figures and words he couldn’t comprehend. A warm hand holding his, a thumb rubbing smooth circles on the back of his palm and calloused fingers running through his hair.

When he awoke, it was in a room bigger than his bedroom. His ankle was shackled to a bedpost, and the only door leading out was locked. There was a separate room for the bathroom off to the side and a shelf stacked with books decorating the otherwise bare walls, but other than that there wasn’t much else. Not even windows.

Intangibility, he learned, wasn’t an option. The blood blossoms in his bloodstream were still in circulation, rendering his transformation useless. If his nose was right, his captors were pumping blood blossoms from the vents. The sickly sweet of the flower was faint in the cool air, but the slight red haze that persisted in the room was unmistakable.

He tried, regardless. The rings barely made it half-way before his knees buckled and he started retching all over the floor. At least his stomach was empty.

-------

Danny doesn’t know how long he’s been in Nanda Parbat. Time moved differently here. Faster, he thought. He doesn’t really understand how or why, though sometimes he wondered what Clockwork thought of all of this.

(There are times, in the darkness and solitude of his cell, when Danny would call for Clockwork to rescue him. Quietly, so quietly, it was barely even a whisper. But Clockwork would hear it—Danny was sure he would. Clockwork helped him out before, so this time shouldn’t be all that different. But at the end of the night, nothingness would answer him. And Danny had to learn over and over again that even the Ghost of Time had his own rules to follow.)

It had taken a few days and Talia nearly biting the head off of the League’s physician for them to realize that blood blossoms would be an awful way to contain him. Effective at immobilizing him, yes, but the flowers left him about as helpless as Superman in a kryptonite cave.

“It all works out in the end,” Talia would say. “The blossoms were never going to become a long-term solution; you might end up developing an immunity to them given enough exposure.”

Though knowing now what Talia’s ‘long-term plan’ was for making sure Danny didn’t slip through the walls of the headquarters and fly across the ocean, Danny would rather take his chances with the blood blossoms.

Danny might not have been as smart as Vlad, but he was tricky and creative when he needed to be. He knows he’s powerful. And sure, he might forget some of his own abilities every now and then, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use them. In the time he’s been stuck in the Leage’s lair (and coherent), Danny had thought of a dozen escape plans, each one with a high chance of success. If he made an attempt, he could guarantee the League wouldn’t notice until he was a quarter-way across the globe.

Escaping wasn’t the problem. That would be the easy part.

His core burned at the thought of it. And it hurt—as if his entire being was dunked in a vat of dry ice and left to freeze. He hated how he was here and everything that he was protecting was far. Away.

Danny wanted to go home. Wanted to read comic books in his bed, play Doom with Tucker and Sam, sleep in class and make fun of the Box Ghost. He wants to eat his mom’s food, even if there’s a fifty-fifty chance that it would come alive and try to eat him instead. He wants to listen to Jazz try to psychoanalyze his problems. Wants to go fishing with his dad and eat his famous chocolate fudge. Wants to fly above the skies of Amity Park and touch what little he can of the universe before he’s called down again.

Amity Park is his haunt. His Home. The soft hum of the Ghost Portal in the basement a lullaby he’s listened to for so long that sleeping without it was next to impossible. Every fiber of his being craved to go back because how is he supposed to protect Amity if he isn’t there?

But to go back meant sacrificing everyone.

Danny doesn’t risk it.

(The—the last time was an accident. If Danny isn’t—if he isn’t careful, this time it may be an assassination. He refused to have his family’s death on his hands again.)

He has faith in Sam, Tucker, and Jazz to hold down the fort until he could find a way to escape. They’re smart. Smarter than him. They’ll work something out and—in a worst-case scenario, they’ll find a way to shut down the Ghost Portal to stop the ghosts from coming through.

Logic meant nothing to his ghost core, though. The next best thing to do was to drown out his worries with the League’s rigorous education.

Hand-to-hand and weapons combat. Geography. History. Dozens of foreign languages. Poisons and herbology and basic first-aid. His days are packed with new things to learn and to repeat until it’s drilled into his skull so deep he could recite the information in his sleep. (Hyosycamus niger, aka Henbane. Every part is highly toxic and can cause dizziness, stupor, insanity, and eventual death. It’s medicinal uses range from--)

The League demanded perfection. The Demon’s Head demanded even more than that.

Talia oversaw his education. Sometimes, there would be another, older, man by her side, observing his regimen with cold calculation. Whenever that man arrived, Danny’s instructors were always stricter.

His teachers made little effort to interact with him outside of their set schedule, and during his lessons they only ever answer pertinent questions. He supposed there would be other students of the League in Nanda Parbat, but he’s seen neither hide nor hair of them. His rooms (a bedroom + bathroom combo that led out into a large indoor space for training) are separate from everything else.

Danny slept alone, ate alone, and trained alone. And for a boy who has had his two best friends stuck to his side like glue for as long as he could remember, it’s a terribly lonely experience.

His shadow guards don’t count. They might as well be another piece of furniture. Another stone in the wall.

-------

Talia was the only one that broke his new mundane routine, as much as she was the cause of it. She was his only source of companionship in this hell hole; the only one who would really speak to him. And yeah, he knew why that was. Jazz had rambled on enough about Stockholm syndrome to know that this ‘arrangement’ was Talia’s attempts at forging a bond between them. But godit’s just so hard to be stuck inside your own mind all day when. It made him think too much. Worry. (Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif).

And then—

And then.

Danny had asked Talia a multitude of questions, but only two did she ever answer. Both asked when he was still trying to flush the drug cocktail and the blood blossoms from his system.

The first was when he asked, “Why am I here?” She answered that it was because Ra’s al Ghul, her father, wanted him. He had knowledge the Demon’s Head wanted; powers that Ra’s could only ever dream of. The man was curious—though Talia assured him over and over again that Danny wouldn’t be vivisected and studied for science.

The second answer came right after when Danny asked her “How could you be so sure?”

Talia smiled. Lacquered fingers coming up to brush away the dark strands that fell over his face. Her hands traced the curve of his jaw, cupping his cheeks to raise his eyes to hers. “Because you are my son,” she said, voice honey sweet.

He jerked from her hold.

Burned by it.

“You’re lying,” he spat. “I’m already someone else’s son. Try again.”

Talia let her hands drop to her sides. “You are my son.” She took a step closer towards him. Steady. Firm. “That is why you are here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A pitying smile. “Be that as it may, you cannot change the truth.” She approached him, slowly backing him against the wall before she reached out to tilt his chin upwards. Some traitorous part of Danny’s mind catalogued her features. Made connections that shouldn’t exist. “I have carried you in my womb, Daniel. You were a part of me for so very long and I loved you more with each passing day. You are of my body and of my blood—not matter how much you may deny it.”

“No.” He pushed her hands away and raked his hands over his hair. “You’re lying.” She must be. They don’t look alike. Not at all. Everyone always said he was his dad’s—Jack Fenton’s—exact copy. Black haired and blue eyed and sharp-jawed. Awkward but well-meaning and with a heart of gold, his mother said. It was once of the facts of life; Danny took after his dad, and Jazz took after their mom. Simple as that.

(There is a memory resurfacing from his early childhood that Danny is desperately trying to repress again. Memories of kids teasing him on the playground, innocently cruel in the way only children can be as they tried to convince him he was adopted. That his skin looked nothing like his parents’. Dusky where his parents and sister were fair. He went home crying to his parents that same day, and they soothed away his worries with hushed words and a well-timed distraction.)

He asked no more questions after that. Talia was lying to him for some reason, and no answer she could give would be trustworthy anyways. What little of him he could see in her was only a figment of his own imagination. His mind playing cruel tricks.

Then his hopes were dashed aside when Talia showed him a picture of his father a day later.

The man in the photo looked like him. Black haired and eyes the same shade of too-bright blue. There were differences, of course. The man in the photograph was fairer, unlike Danny. He was taller and broader where Danny was lean and lanky. But despite this and all the other minute differences, this man who was supposed to be Danny’s biological father looked like him.

The same slant of the brow. The same shape of the eyes. The way the man held himself with this sense of gravitas and power that Danny couldn’t yet do in his awkward teenage years but had seen before. In a monster another man.

Danny’s future self was terrifying in its inhumanity, but it didn’t take that much of an imagination to know that he looked almost exactly like the man in the picture.

[funtimebunnyblog]

Could you possibly do a scenario for the pillar men and a s/o who’s extremely pale? I can’t go out into the sun for more then 10 minutes without being close to sunburn. I usually feel a little insecure about how my skin in because you can see bright blue veins on my wrists and arms and stuff. It looks freaky to me.

Oh Anon ❤❤❤

Let me assure you that the Pillarmen wouldn't be happy to hear you aren't comfortable in your own skin (no pun intended, of course!). Pale or not, they would be absolutely over the moon for you 🥰🥰🥰 In the meantime, let me show you how much they love you.

Pillarmen with an s/o who is extremely pale and burns in the sun easily...

(Under the cut for length)

Kars:

• Kars was very fair skinned himself; he always had been.

• However, he never had the fear of burning to a crisp in the sunshine (well, not anymore) like any Human.

• Being very knowledgeable on your race, he was very mindful of your fragile needs, specifically your skins needs.

• He was always happy to help you apply some sunscreen on your back if you asked him to or carry some around wherever you both went.

• However, he never actually seen you burn.

• That was, until one day...

• You had left early in the morning, claiming you wanted to get some fresh early Summer air by going for a little jog.

• Kars had some work to do upstairs in his study, bidding you goodbye and losing himself in his piles of paperwork as he scribbled away.

• You had barely been gone an hour, the sounds of your footsteps pulling his attention from his work for the briefest moment but he paid little to no mind to your early return.

• The door to his study creaked open and your voice was next to hit his ears.

• "Kars?" "Hmm, so soon, beloved? How was your--" He turned in his chair to face you, his words suddenly getting caught in his throat. He nearly dropped the handful of papers he was clutching at the sight he was met with.

• There you stood in the doorway, sheepishly tapping your fingers together as you struggled to meet his gaze. You knew very well what he was gawking at.

• "Do you-- uh... know where the Aloe Vera is?" Came the hesitant question.

• Dressed in a joggers tank-top and shorts, every inch of your visible skin was near to an angry red.

• It was as if someone had rubbed you raw with sandpaper from head to toe and just from the way you were standing he could easily tell that you were starting to feel just as raw.

• "Goodness, gracious!" He cried, ruby eyes burning holes into you as he got up from his chair, marching straight up to you. "What on Earth happened?!"

• You frowned, curling in on yourself stiffly, letting out a pathetic laugh. "I... uh... forgot to put on sunscreen before I left..." you explained, the red in your cheeks blooming with more than a burn from the sun. "I didn't realize it would be so hot out today..."

• Kars blinked once, looking you up and down with tight lips.

• He wasn't even touching you and he could feel the heat radiating off your irritated skin.

• Several painful moments later... you were seated in the bathroom, devoid of clothing.

• You were already so sore that getting your clothes off had been nothing but a painful struggle with you whimpering the whole way as the massive Pillarman tried his absolute best to be as ginger with you as possible.

• He had even briefly considered just cutting your clothes off with his brilliant bone blade to spare you the agony.

• Every line of where your clothing began and ended was laid bare, leaving you looking very awkward with the blotches of crimson skin gracing your pale, white body.

• You were quite lucky Kars was blessed with the ability to heal but still, you flinched every time his huge hands graced your raw skin as he worked his magic.

• By the time he was done you were only a little more pink in hue than usual; it was almost like a weak farmers tan.

• He assured you, however, that you would be back to your normal palor in a day at best

• He also made sure to take extra care to apply a generous coat of moisturizer to your skin too.

• "There." He sighed, carding a hand gently through your hair as he planted a kiss on your temple. "Please dear one, I beg of you to try and be more careful next time."

• Ironically, through all the time he had known and loved you, one of his affectionate nicknames for you was his "ray of sunshine".

• He was starting to think that perhaps it was better to reconsider and start calling you his "starlight" from now on...

Esidisi:

• For a man whose domain lied with heat, he was always more than careful to be sure you didn't get burned.

• Sometimes he playfully teased you about how very pale you were, often during the times when you were complaining about your palor, but you knew very well he adored you and your skin.

• He often compared you to a work of art; a beautiful statue of white marble. He deemed it fitting, as marble had remarkable and beautiful veins etched into its stone much like you.

• Many a morning you woke up giggling as he trailed soft, warm kisses along your milky skin.

• Once, you came inside after spending the afternoon out in the garden and immediately he noticed a pink tinging the skin on your back and shoulders.

• You hadn't gotten burned badly but it was still a burn no less. You had put on sunscreen but alas, you had forgotten to reapply...

• "Ow!" You jumped a little, you hadn't really realized you had gotten burned until he curiously poked you where it was sore.

• He retracted his hand when you cried out as if you were the one who burned him, tears noticably welling up in his eyes as your genuine pain sunk into his heart.

• "Oh, did that hurt? Oh my beautiful little flame, I'm so sorry." He breathed, he held back from hugging you (as much as he wanted to in that moment) and causing you further pain. "You've burned yourself."

• You really hadn't been exaggerating when you told him that you had the tendency to burn easily.

• Minutes later, you were seated in the kitchen, your top removed, with your Husband the Pillarman lovingly tending to your sunburn.

• You could tell he went the extra mile to diminish a good amount of the heat in his hands as he took care to press cold wet cloths to your irritated skin to draw the heat out of the burn.

• He hummed softly to you as he worked, shushing any and all painful whimpers you happened to make as the cloth graced raw skin.

• You shivered as he removed the previous damp cloth, replacing it with a fresh and freezing cold wet one.

• It was a feeling you could only associate to pouring water sizzling on a hot gridle.

• "Th-Thank you, Esidisi..." you sighed. Your back was feeling much better now but you knew by tomorrow your skin would definitely be peeling.

• "It is my pleasure, my sweet little spark." He crooned, reaching for the bottle of Aloe Vera. He planned to thoroughly slather the area with it.

• Unable to help himself, the corner of his lips tugged into a teasing little smirk. "Well, you always told me you wished you had a bit more colour to your skin. And now you have a lovely pink spot!"

• You rolled your eyes at his words, shooting him the strongest glare you could muster. "Hah."

• Though you intended it to come out as displeased, Esidisi didn't miss the tugging at the corners of your own lips.

Wamuu:

• "What do you mean by this?" The warrior had questioned you, his eyebrows knit together, when you had first told him about your tendency to burn.

• In his eyes, that should have been impossible.

• You weren't a Vampire and Humans could train themselves to harness power straight from the sun itself.

• How and why was it possible for you, a Human, to BURN simply by standing in the sun?!

• You did your very best to explain it to him, telling him about harmful effects of UV rays and how fragile Human skin could be in prolonged exposure to it.

• You even told him proper precautions Humans had to take to prevent this from happening and that you in particular had to take extra precautions.

• Wamuu listened to you intently, nodding his head through your narrative.

• He supposed that it all made sense and you were very pale after all...

• From that moment forward, being a warrior and all, Wamuu made it his sworn duty to protect you from the suns harmful rays damaging your precious skin.

• Everywhere the two of you went, even if there was just a chance of sunshine, he didn't want to risk it and ensured to have sunscreen with him (and more importantly on you) at all times.

• Apart from that, he did his very best to ensure you were well shaded when the sun was particularly powerful that day.

• More often than not you found him standing over you with an umbrella (that he may or may not have took from the Café down the street) or draping something over you to give you some shaded coverage.

• But at times when there was nothing else to cover you, he simply did it himself by letting you (and ONLY you) stand in his shadow for some coverage as he was considerably larger than you afterall.

• "Are you sure it's ok, Wamuu?" You frowned, not at all liking the way he instinctively twitched when you stepped into the cool shade cast by his very person.

• You knew very well how hypersensitive he was when it came down to his shadow and, more importantly, people invading it.

• You could already see him gritting his teeth to fight against his primal instincts.

• "Really, you don't have to--" "I do." He said firmly, stepping to the side so you were now fully shaded. He suppressed a shiver, standing as tall and proud as he could. "For you, my beloved, I must. It is my sworn duty to protect you in any and all ways possible and that includes protecting you from the sun."

Santana:

• Santana was more pale than the average living Pillarman (with Kars coming in as "2nd most pale").

• However, despite the fact that he was now an Ultimate lifeform and could now stand in the sun all he wanted, that surprisingly didn't change about him.

• Needless to say, you both stood out a lot at the beach.

• Still, it was comforting to you to have someone in your life who was just as pale as you were, being insecure about your painfully white skin afterall.

• Santana, attentive and intuitive as always, quickly picked up on your habits of sunscreen and your preparations to go outside in the hot sun.

• If you forgot to slather some on, he would simply walk up with the bottle in hand and do it for you.

• He saved you from getting burned a few times doing this.

• One day, Santana and you were walking hand in hand downtown before he stopped right outside a flower shop.

• "Ooh, they're pretty aren't they?" You said, stopping as well to admire some of the arrangements put out.

• Santana hummed, a small smile gracing his lips. "They are like you."

• You thought that he was simply saying you were pretty but no, his meaning ran much deeper than that.

• Wordlessly, he grabbed your arm, tracing his fingertips softly over the winding blue veins visible under your pale skin before pointing back to the flowers.

• The flowers had veins too; winding little lines that had been lovingly etched into their soft delicate pedals by nature, it was only a part of them that made them more beautiful.

• "You are like them." He continued, his eyes filled with warmth as he turned his gaze back down to your arms. "Delicate. Soft. Beautiful."

• Your cheeks flamed red as you understood, your face burning hotter than any sunburn you had ever received when he pressed his lips to the veins on your wrist.

• For a man of few words, Santana sure knew how to make any insecurity you had about yourself (more importantly your palor) melt away.

• "My flower..." he murmured against your skin.

[max-vandenburg-is-life]

Long Loki rant incoming

Ok first things first I've always liked Loki a lot as a character but I don't consider myself a really really big fan mainly because I haven't read the comics. So all this rant is gonna be only about mcu loki and loki in the mcu has been written differently depending on the movie so yeah. And on that note let's go!!!!

So today I'm gonna talk about what I liked and what I didn't like about the Loki show. This is obviously just my opinion, you can disagree with me! I'd love to hear your opinions!

First I wanna talk about is the writing of Loki's character. So previously it has been established in the mcu that Loki doesn't do bad things just because he's a bad guy or because he wants power above everything else, but because after all the manipulation and lying he went through as a child, the abuse, always been seen as less than those around him and being taught to hate himself for who he was (a Jotun). He wants validation and being treated the same as the others, he doesn't really care about ruling or being king. His actions are a result of his trauma. So the show painting him as "He's a bad guy!! He's evil he can't help it it's in his nature!! He just wants to be king!!!" felt off to me since it completely goes against all the previous canon. Apart from that, I feel the show also erased other aspects of him that had always been essential to his character, such as him being very smart and always having a plan, and his powers (he BARELY used his powers throughout the season and he's supposed to be the best sorcerer in the nine realms. Please). So yeah there's that. I didn't absolutely despise his character in the show or anything like that, he generally seemed more happy and chill and that was good, I just felt some aspects of the character seemed inconsistent.

Apart from Loki, something I loved about the show were all the new characters that we were introduced to. Sylvie was absolutely fantastic, she had a well written tragic backstory, she had a goal and she had layers. She was a really well written character. Also she was just really cool overall, she had a cool personality and seeing her use her powers was very fun. (Sylvie your hand in marriage) (I guess I can talk about the "betrayal" now. So yeah not gonna lie I don't think it was that bad. She had a goal she had been pursuing her whole life and she obviously prioritized that before a guy who she met a few days ago. She did hurt him of course but still it's easy to understand her decision.) Mobius was also really cool, in the first episode I didn't like him much but I started liking him a lot later on. He's just a good guy, he wants to help people. (HE ONLY WANTED A JETSKI MARVEL). And I liked his story a lot, he was forced into working for the tva because his memories were erased and he was told what he was doing the right thing when killing all those people, but once he finds out all of it was false he immediately starts going against it and trying to help as many people as he can. Ravonna was also a good character (I keep saying all of them are good characters lol they're well written ok). Like okay she was a little bit evil but I liked her. I really liked her ambition and her confidence. I would have loved to know more about her life at the tva, because it seemed like because of her position she knew some things that most didn't. Hunter B15 was also really good, loved her character development. Casey only appeared in the first two eps but for some reason I liked him a lot idk why. Casey my beloved. Kang was mind-blowing good, he absolutely carried the episode. He was so fun to watch and a very interesting character. This is how you do villains Marvel. And then all the Loki variants were amazing. Classic Loki was great, he was more mature and wiser than the Loki we're used to watching and I felt really sad about his whole situation (aka trying and failing to find his brother because he missed him, getting pruned and then dying). Kid loki was a BLAST, I really liked the little funky dude and I would love to know more about his life. Boastful Loki didn't appear for long but I liked him a lot, he looked like a really funny guy I wish he had had more screen time. And then there was the Lokigator which was also great. President Loki was also cool (meaning he had the coolest outfit), but we didn't see much of him. I think that's a big problem with the show, because they made it seem like it was gonna be more about the other Loki variants and their timelines (that's what it seemed to me from the trailers) but then we barely got that. Sad shit.

Now let's talk about the writing of the show in general. The writers definitely went off with the philosophical conversations, I enjoyed them greatly (Loki's and Mobius' talk in the second ep and Loki's and Sylvie's talk in the third ep were amazing). Something I didn't like at all about the show (this is probably my biggest complaint) is that the writing of the show throughout the episodes didn't seem consistent, like each episode seemed to be a different genre, and that made the whole story feel weird. What I'm trying to say is: the first episode was about Loki learning more about his life and reflecting on why he does the things he does. There was more to the episode but it was mainly that. It was a very emotional episode. The second episode looked like a cop show, they investigated a crime scene in the beginning, they did some detectiving, they had a great breakthrough and found out were the villain was hiding in the end. The third episode was an action episode. It gave me the vibes of mid season episode that isn't too relevant to the plot in which the characters go on some short mission. The fourth episode I can't exactly categorize it I think it was kinda like episode 1 but with some more action. The fifth episode was also a mix, they had a lot of reflecting on Loki's character like in the first episode and then also some action. And the last episode was mostly just exposition and a tiny bit of action at the end, very philosophical and stuff. It also felt like in the first two episodes they were indicating that the show was gonna be about free will and good and evil but that kind of disappeared for a big part of the show. I'm trying so hard to explain myself well, I hope what I say makes sense. Now my opinion on the episodes, my favourites were definitely ep 1, 3 and 5 (haha odd numbers go brrrr). The pilot was absolutely amazing, and I loved the direction the show seemed to be taking (YES MARVEL explore his trauma mmmm that's some good shit right there). It was really emotional but like in a good way. The third episode was great. I think it balanced really well the action and the dialogue, seeing Loki and Sylvie going on their shenanigans, using their powers and fighting was really fun, and then the train talk scene was absolutely amazing (bi loki yay! Gonna talk about this later). The fifth episode was great mostly because seeing all the other Loki variants and how they contrasted between each other was fantastic and I loved it. I really hope we see more of the variants in the next season. The other eps, the second and fourth were okay, the one I think was the worst one was the last one. Damn that episode. It was a very slow episode. Thank god the guy who plays Kang was really good because otherwise the episode would have been impossible to watch. There was so much exposure but it felt like we already knew most of it? They talked about how multiple timelines existing was bad because chaos and stuff, and they talked about the war in which the different timelines battled each other. Ok we already knew this. I feel like the only important thing to take from that whole talk was that Kang's variants are very powerful and dangerous and they were introducing the villain to the mcu. The whole episode felt like instead of giving closure to the characters or ending some storylines, the main thing it was doing was introducing the concept of the multiverse for the next marvel movies.

Something that surprised me a lot about the show is how important it is for the mcu storyline. Like in the first episode they talked about how the tva (and of course Kang) was much more powerful than the Infinity Stones, when basically all previous marvel movies were about them and about their power. And then Kang was revealed to have created a sacred timeline, he controls absolutely everything that happens. All of this is so important and for some reason I didn't think the show was gonna be like this. Not that I'm complaining, this is great. And I feel like a lot of people are not realising how big it is? Like I don't see much talking about how this is literally the greatest power in the universe.

Damn this is getting long sorry.

I suppose I'll have to talk about it because it has been this big thing. I'm talking about the loki x sylvie pairing. I didn't like it too much, it felt a lot like the writers went "he's a guy she's a girl so they have to fall in love", like I felt they had a very different dynamic and when they said that I was mostly surprised and confused. Because they were variants of each other their romance felt weird to me, and the fact that they made a character genderfluid and then made a woman and a man version fall in love also rubbed me the wrong way (I'll talk about the genderfluidity later). I did like the mobius x loki pairing more, but still I don't think they should have got any romance this season, I feel like there has to be a lot more progress in that relationship before any romance. I generally feel like Loki should first start getting some friends and then later on we can start with romance. But yeah this is just my opinion. And all the drama and discourse there has been over this???? Some of you guys look ridiculous not gonna lie.

Ok now let's talk about representation. I'm not poc myself so I don't feel like I'm in the position to say if something was good or bad, so I'm not gonna talk about poc rep. The show did a good job with female characters, many of the main characters were women and they were very well-written, not sexualized and cast appropriately for their age (I can't believe I'm praising this, this should be the bare minimum. Why is media in general so bad. Like please just.) About the bi rep now. I'm sure that the writers or directors of the show had to fight really hard with marvel so that they could make loki canon bi, so yeah cheers to that guys good job. Obviously it's not enough, and I really hope his bisexuality is explored more later. But yeah we finally have a queer character in the mcu this is big. Now about the genderfluid rep. OOF. I have a lot to say about this. It was bad. Really bad. I don't know if they just don't know what genderfluid means but that's what it looks like after watching the show. Not only were all of the variants cis, but they also went on to say that Loki as a woman was a weird and uncommon thing. Oh my god. And what angers me the most is the fact that Marvel used the so called genderfluid confirmation to their benefit. They exploited so much that little piece of paper that said his sex (not even gender) was fluid. I saw SO MANY articles praising marvel for making him canon genderfluid, and then it was absolutely shit. Absolutely shit. Out of everything in the show this is definitely what I hate the most.

Gotta calm down now. The soundtrack of the show was amazing, the actual songs they used were perfect and then the music they composed for the show was just *chef's kiss* (i have no idea how they're called but the song that plays during the title sequence WHAT A BANGER and the one that plays when loki and mobius are looking at the whole tva from the balcony in the first ep WHAT A BANGER). The aesthetic of the show was also great, the colours were really pretty (Lamentis bi colours my beloved) and I think it had some really cool shots. The acting was great, I'm gonna highlight Kang because I thought he was amazing. The costumes and that stuff were also really cool, I really liked seeing all the different versions of outfits they gave to the Loki variants (if anyone is interested I made another post reviewing all the variants' outfits) and Kang's funky costume was great too. The design of the places and that stuff (I have no idea how to call these lol I'm trying so hard but I don't know any of the technical words) was great: Lamentis was really beautiful, the void was also very cool and the tva was really well designed.

Ok y'all I think this is it. I'm so sorry this is much longer than I expected and if anyone actually reads all of it i love you and PLEASE tell me your thoughts (if anyone wanna chat about the show with me privately send me a message!!! I love talking with y'all). A little final note, English is not my first language, nor my second, so yeah sorry if I can't explain myself well. Bye!!!!

[ebaeschnbliah]

Still at the centre of the web ….

For the 10th Anniversary of Sherlock BBC (July 2010) the Royal Mail released a lovely collection of six stamps, that display key characters from several episodes of the TV show, as well as hidden messages only revealed under UV light.  (X)

I took a closer look at those stamps in the Anatomy of a Stamp Series:  A Study in Pink   The Great Game   A Scandal in Belgravia   The Reichenbach Fall   The Empty Hearse   The Final Problem

Alongside those stamps and in partnership with The Royal Mint (X),  a special medal has been crafted as well to ‘celebrate Sherlock’s genius – and his nemesis’ ... to explore Sherlock’s ‘turbulent relationship with arch-rival Moriarty’ as the description says. 

A little sideways glance at that medal and the collage of images with which it is surrounded couldn’t be wrong, I thought. :)

TBC below the cut .....

That anniversary medal is available in two versios (cupro-nickel&sterling-silver) and it displays:

on one side - Moriarty’s message ‘Get Sherlock’, the note he carved on the Crown Jewel glass case in TRF, to invite Sherlock to play his game

on the obverse side - ‘The Game is on’, which is meant to be Sherlock’s modern take on the literary version ‘The Game is afoot’

James Moriarty is known to be the famous archenemy of Sherlock Holmes. Contrary to canon, Sherlock BBC introduced that character already in the first episode A Study in Pink and Jim commits suicide (alongside Sherlock) in the sixth episode of the story, which consists of 13 so far. According to canon, Sherlock fakes his suicide and comes back after his hiatus. Although Jim is considered to be really dead for years by now, notes and messages of the character turn up repeatedly on various data carriers ... electronic as well as paper. 

Interestingly, it has been chosen for the 10th anniversary of Sherlock BBC to create fan memorabilia which focuses mainly on the confontration between Sherlock and Jim, whose life ended rather quickly at Bart’s roof in The Reichenbach Fall. A great honour for a character who is long dead and seems to be irrelevant for the ongoing story of this adaptation, in which another character - Mary - married John and shot Sherlock and therefore became a sort of new archenemy. Nonetheless, not only every stamp is - in one way or another - linked to Jim Moriarty, the medal and the collage of images with which it is surrounded, displays also mainly text messages connected to Sherlock’s (in)famous nemesis Jim Moriarty. 

Here’s a summery of those texts + the corresponding screenshots in the episodes. It surprised me though, that I couldn’t match all of them. There are some interesting exceptions. First the obvious ones:

A Study in Pink

Two images have been used to create this manip for the medal collage. Both are visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. And both screenshots don’t turn up side by side. Sherlock’s entire thinking process lies between them. Jeff Hope, the man who killed the lady in pink had been sponsored by Jim Moriarty.

RACHE  German (n.) revenge

The correct letter settles into place ... Rachel

He squats down beside the body .... wet

He reaches into her coat pockets and finds the umbrella ... dry

He moves up to the collar of her coat ... wet

He inspects the delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist ... clean

... then the gold earring attached to her left ear ... clean

... and then the gold chain around her neck ... clean

The wedding ring ... dirty

Conclusions appear in front of Sherlock’s eyes ... married ... unhappily married ... unhappily married 10+ years

While the outside of the wedding ring is still showing ... dirty

the inside registers as ... clean

Sherlock has reached a conclusion ... regularly removed

The final deduction about her ... serial adulterer

The Great Game

Three different scenes from this episode have been used for the collage. Two are connected to a serial killer called The Golem, who asphyxiates his victims. One is directly connected to Jim Moriarty, who has planned all the cases in TGG. 

1- The Golem killed Alex Woodbridge, security guard and hobby stargazer. That killer appears for the first time on Sherlock’s radar when he searches on his phone for ‘most wanted’ criminals:

JOHN: He’s dead about twenty-four hours – maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?

Sherlock has called up on his phone: Interpol Most Wanted Criminal Organisations Regional Activities LESTRADE: Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.

2- The Vauxhall Arches turn out to be the hiding place of the Golem and Sherlock gets the address from an informant of his homeless network. It’s a note written on a piece of paper:

SHERLOCK: Hold that cab. (John trots back to the taxi while Sherlock goes over to the girl.) HOMELESS GIRL: Spare change, sir? SHERLOCK: Don’t mind if I do. JOHN (to the cab driver): Can you wait here? (The girl hands Sherlock a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he sees that she has written “VAUXHALL ARCHES” on it. Smiling briefly, he turns and walks back to John.)

3- The third image out of this episode is one of the exceptions, because they’re not imagined or written words but an actual text line spoken by Jim Moriarty during his showdown with Sherlock at the pool.

JIM: I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see ... like you! 

A Scandal in Belgravia

It is Jim Moriarty who adviced Irene Adler how ‘to play the Holmes boys’. It is Sherlock though, who wins that game and is able to get access to Irene’s camera phone. The confirmation of his success appears on her mobil phone screen:

IRENE: Everything I said: it’s not real. I was just playing the game. SHERLOCK: I know. And this is just losing. (Slowly he turns the phone towards her and shows her the screen. She looks down at it, tears spilling from her eyes as she reads the sequence which says: I AM SHER LOCKED

The Reichenbach Fall

Three different scenes from this episode have been used for the collage.

1- Jim Moriarty sends Sherlock his invitation to play the game, while sitting inside the smashed glass cage of the crown jewels, dressed as and equipped with the insignias of a king. The message appears on Sherlock’s phone. This starts the game.

JOHN: Sherlock ... SHERLOCK: Not now. JOHN: He’s back. (Sherlock lifts his head and takes the phone. The message reads: Come and play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty x.

2- Sherlock searches for the traces hidden inside the residues of the kidnapper’s footprints. What might be the fifth element? Those five big questionmarks+the number 5 appear as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace and are embedded between Sherlock’s rememberence of Jim’s threat ‘I owe you’ and Molly asking about this afterwards. It turns out to be the clue to find the kidnapped children and it marks the beginning of Sherlock’s downfall. 

SHERLOCK: I ... owe ... you. SHERLOCK: Glycerol molecule. He sighs heavily as he struggles to identify the item, seeing it in his head as: 5. ????? SHERLOCK: What are you? MOLLY: What did you mean, “I owe you”?

3- Claudette Bruhl, one of the kidnapped children, seems to recognize Sherlock as her kidnapper. The seed of doubt is sawn at Scotland Yard. Then the letters  IOU appear on the windows of a building opposite. This message proves to Sherlock that it is indeed Jim Moriarty who is behind that kidnapping case.  

LESTRADE: The kid’s traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper. JOHN: So what’s she said? DONOVAN: Hasn’t uttered another syllable. JOHN: And the boy? LESTRADE: No, he’s unconscious; still in intensive care. (In the building opposite Scotland Yard, all the lights in the offices come on. On the second floor, spray paint has been applied to three of the office windows. Sherlock stares at the enormous letters that have been painted: I O U

The Empty Hearse

From this episode two different words out of one of Sherlock’s mind palace deductions have been used for the collage. Sherlock is working on the fake Jack the Ripper case (How I did it), which had been planned by Anderson to lure Sherlock back to London because he firmly believed the detective not to be dead. Sherlock notices the trick though. He comes to the conclusion that the fake corpse is only six moths old and its Victorian outfit had been exposed to first: sun and then: fire damage. (Sun exposure, fire damage, undead .... it’s a bit hard to not get ideas about Dracula here ... X X X  :)

The words ‘pine & cedar’ are displayed again as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. And just like in ASIP those words lie several screenshots appart. For some reasons ‘spruce’ has been ignored: 

LESTRADE: This one’s got us all baffled. SHERLOCK: Mmm. I don’t doubt it. (..... Sherlock sniffs at the body and tries to decide what he is picking up: PINE? SPRUCE? CEDAR NEW MOTHBALLS Moving on, he sniffs again: Carbon particulate ... He sniffs more deeply: Fire Damage

The Final Problem

Images of three different scenes out of this episode have been used for the collage. 

1- The movie Mycroft is watching in his private cinema at his place is interrupted first by images of an old family video, then by Eurus’ message on screen ... “I’m back”. It  announces the return of Eurus, the secret sister.

I’M BACK VOICE: Mycroft ... Mycroft ... MYCROFT: Why don’t you come out and show yourself? I don’t have time for this. CHILD’s VOICE: We have time, brother dear. All the time in the world.

2- Sherlock stands in front of the ‘funny gravestones’ at Musgrave Hall and puts together the dates on the stones until he has a long string of numbers in front of him ... visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. This brings Sherlock finally the solution to Eurus’ riddle.

.... 1520 1818 2426 1617 1822 32

3- Just like the numbers, the four verses of Eurus’ riddle appear as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. He connects the string of dates from the gravestones to the verses. It is the second verse that has been used for the collage.

I that am lost, oh who will find me? Deep down below the old beech tree Help succour me now the east winds blow Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go! Without your love, he’ll be gone before Save pity for strangers, show love the door. My soul seek the shade of my willow’s bloom Inside, brother mine - Let Death make a room. Be not afraid to walk in the shade Save one, save all, come try! My steps - five by seven Life is closer to Heaven Look down, with dark gaze, from on high. Before he was gone - right back over my (h)ill Who now will find him? Why, nobody will Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen Lost forever, nine by nineteen.

The exceptions ...

So far, these have been the obvious links between the images used for the collage and the corresponding episodes of Sherlock BBC. Beneath follow the less obvious and the ones I failed to find a match for. 

Blue chemistry ...

There are two episodes in which chemical formulas are displayed in the form of drawings. 

1- In The Hounds of Baskerville (S2/2) Sherlock is looking for a monstrous hound from hell. Instead he finds the H.O.U.N.D. project in which experiments had been conducted with a deleriant drug, based on fear and stimulus. The informations on this project are key-coded by the name MAGGIE (short for Margaret Thatcher)

2- In The Six Thatchers (S4/1) Sherlock tries - with the help of Toby the bloodhound - to track down the person who smashes plaster busts of Margaret Thatcher in order to find a hidden flash drive with secret informations about A.G.R.A. a group of terrorists. One of the four members had been Mary Watson.

Although there exist several drawn chemical formulas in both episodes, very similar to the one used for the collage, and despite I scanned those scenes screenshot by screenshot, I wasn’t able to find a perfect match. Maybe I still missed something. Maybe that formula on the collage is indeed just an unrelated decoraton .... But it’s interesting to note that the story connects this kind of ‘chemistry’ always to Hounds and Thatcher. (more about chemistry)

Red drop of blood ...

That blood drop used for the collage appears actually in each official episode (TAB as well) because it’s part of the intro. And for the creation of the medal collage, that image has been used two times. In the background there is a smaller and paler version, which is overlapped by a bigger and darker version in the foreground. Of that one, only the lower half is visible. Using two times the same image in one picture, always reminds me strongly of the many Pairs, Twins and Double oh’s mentioned in Sherlock BBC. 

Mostly I connect that ‘sign of two’ with John Watson. In my theory he represents the ‘fixed point in a changing age’, the ‘eternal just-friend and still stubbornly ‘not gay’ Watson, the very aspect in Sherlock’s experiment, that needs to be transformed into a modern version of the same character. In other words: the old king has to make way for the new king. According to the original meaning of the Musgrave Ritual that says about the crown of a king: “'Whose was it? His who is gone. Who shall have it? He who will come.” 

With this in mind it was easy to compare the drop of watery liquid that falls onto a drop of blood in Sherlock’s experiment, to John in the well, drenched by the water Eurus exposes him to. Emotional context indeed. :))))

When a drop of emotions/chemistry brings the blood to a boil ... (1 2)    Drop of blood 

Search: London Bridge ...

That’s the most mysterious addition to the collage. While all the other words and images can be linked to the show .... this one is the absolute exception. A ‘search for London Bridge’ doesn’t happen throughout the whole story. Not once. London Bridge doesn’t even play a role in Sherlock BBC. At least not yet ...

Bridges of Sherlock BBC:

In ASIB Irene Adler texts Sherlock that she can see Tower Bridge from her room. In TST Sherlock stands on Vauxhall Bridge while he realizes the involvement of fake AMO, Vivian Norbury. 

In TLD Culverton Smith gives the cryptic advice ‘We must be careful not to burn our BRIDGES.’ ... at the same time Sherlock walks with Faith through London and crosses Millennium Bridge and Golden Jubilee Bridge beside Hungerford Bridge.

In TFP little Sherlock stands on a small wood-bridge while he is searching for his lost dog Redbeard.

‘Bridge’ as extension of names:

In TGG security guard Alex WoodBRIDGE is found dead at the bank of the Thames, between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge.

In TSOT guardsman Stephen BainBRIDGE consults Sherlock and starts the case of the Mayfly Man. He is the first of the three guards (Bainbridge, Sholto, Mary) in this episode. (Changing of the Guard)

London Bridge though does not appear in Sherlock BBC so far. This leaves the question ... why is the note to search for that bridge even on the collage? Where does it come from? And why is it so closely connected to the episode spanning double image of the blood drop from Sherlock’s experiment? The words are displayed inside the smaller, paler blood drop. One wonders .....

(Thanks @gosherlocked​ for deciphering ‘London’ in that bridge’s name. :)))

The blue ribbon ...

Something that looks like a ‘blue ribbon’ runs through the lower part of the collage. The very distinctive loop, right under the name Moriarty, gave me the idea that this ‘ribbon’ could be the river Thames. And really, my assuption turned out to be correct, it is the Thames. What’s even better, at this distinctive loop the river coils around the peninsula named ... Isle of Dogs. 

It surely isn’t an unusual thing to add a part from the map of London, including the Thames, to a collage of images related to Sherlock Holmes. After all, Sherlock is a most famous residient of London. It it is also quite fitting, especially for this adaptation, to display Jim’s name side by side with ‘dogs’. Dogs and hounds do play a major role since the beginning and are closely linked to Jim, John and Sherlock. The barking of a dog in the night can be heard right after John wakes from his nightmare in ASIP, missing shoes lead right away to the villain (very similar to the original Baskerville case) and TFP is all about a lost dog/boy. But there is a little bit more that came to mind, when I recognized the Isle of Dogs.

TheGameIsNow ...

During the run-up to TheGameIsNow-Escape Room Event, (summer 2018) a video was released .... a call-out from Mycroft Holmes to recruit volunteers for The Network. As a part of that call-out, Mycroft mentions a ‘rush of incidents across the capital’ and while he speaks, a map of London is displayed on screen on which a red line runs along and strings together the involved locations, which are marked with the ‘eye-sign’ of The Network. And that red line stops exactly at the Isle of Dogs. That’s why I recognized that peninsula immediately.

Again ... one wonders ...

All in all, one can not deny that a lot of considerations, of work and also of knowledge regarding the show, have been put into the creation of those stamps, the medal and the images used for their presentation. And as usual with Sherlock BBC, some little intriguing mysteries have also been woven into it.  :)))

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane​ for the scripts. 

January, 2021

[nohydro]

@sunhalf said: "Uncle Bob is great with the plants, but he won't stop looking at me like I've got two heads." A levitated stone is skipped across the water as the pair walk and talk ( she's been suggesting spots around water whenever they hang out; she hasn't told him it's her attempt at helping with the hydrophobia via exposure therapy, though she figures she doesn't have to for him to know ) as the ambient temperature grows a tad high — a subconscious show of the girl's rising irritation. "I know it's been hard for him, but it's...ugh, I dunno. I try to talk to him about herbaphony or my dad or...anything, and he just shuts down!" // lili

Raz glances up at Lili from his spot on the ground where he’s scrounging around the shoreside for the perfect stepping stone. Bob was...well--interesting, to put it mildly, but he’d been through a LOT, and based off what Raz had gathered from his adventure in the man’s brain, making friends had already been a difficult enough task for him. Even BEFORE the encounter with Maligula.

He considers a stone in his hand before dismissing it, letting it fall from his hands back to the ground.  “Maybe you just shouldn’t talk!”  After a moment, Raz realizes how blunt that sounds, and quickly goes to correct his error,  “I mean -- not that you shouldn’t talk or anything ever, you have a nice voice Lili --  I just mean that -- er,”  Raz groans, thumb going to rub under the nose piece of his goggles. Get it together, Raz! ( or she was going to hit him with the next stone she found... )

He tries again.  “Going off what I saw in his mind, he just isn’t the best at talking in general. Maybe if you just hung out in like...zen-based silence, or something, he’d be less intimidated?”  That said, Raz knew just how intimidating Lili could be. He decides not to mention that right now. Rotating a rock with a telekinetic hand, Raz is happy to see it’s the perfect candidate for being skipped, and he stands up, flicking it expertly.

In the middle of the lake, the hand of Galochio rises and catches his stone, then throws it back, where it lands neatly at Raz’s feet like a bone retrieved by a dog. The hand disappears back into the water.  “Whoa----!! That’s new! Didja see that Lili?!”  Raz knows the hand is just his subconscious, but still -- hard not to treat it like an external force. “You know, it’s started doing stuff like that more. I guess now that I’m not so caught up in the whole ‘family curse’ thing it’s actually pretty friendly.”  Now if only he could get it under control!

[mcheang]

The critic

Sometimes restaurant owners are aware there is a critic among them, but they don’t know his identity. Sometimes they are unaware they are being visited at all. This is for @edeniz001

Meet Alain Ego. A youthful young man admitted to Ms Bustier’s class as an exchange student from Provence.

Here’s what you need to know about Alain. He is smart, responsible, but he’s dull. He is a wallflower. His appearance is unremarkable, his voice is softer than Nathaniel’s. And his social life is generally shy. His hobby is writing stories and taking photographs.

His deskmate is Ivan.

Predictably, after class was let out for lunch, Alain was surrounded by his class. Well, most of them.

Chloe and by extension Sabrina; could not be bothered to waste her time with a wallflower.

Marinette and Alya introduced themselves as the class president and Vice President. They warmly asked him to come to them if he needed help.

Nathaniel invited him to meet Marc since they both seemed to love writing.

Lila had never been to the French countryside but was inclined to boast about the Tuscan landscape. She seemed annoyed that Alain did not ask her for more details and that the rest of the class were paying more attention to the new student than to her.

Thankfully Alain would only be here for one semester. That was enough time for like...what, 25 akumas to show up?

Hope the new kid was fast. Dupont tends to be an akuma hotspot.

And was it ever...

The majority of the akumas were from Caline’s class. And that was remarkable considering how they had already been akumas. What is up with that?

Are they an emotional class?

Why is Hawkmoth out for them?

Granted some akumatizations happen outside school. But Alain happens to be there thanks to being invited to class activities.

Part of the blame belongs to Chloe.

A real bully that one. Alain can understand why the principal would be cowed by a corrupt mayor. For a so-called hero, he was a coward.

But Alain has noticed some students standing up to Chloe.

Namely the class president and her Vice President.

And yet for some strange reason, instead of telling Chloe off for being rude and mean, they just brush her off and redirect everyone’s attention.

Alain shyly asked Marinette why she lets Chloe get away with that.

Marinette: Because Ms Bustier told us to be good examples and forgive Chloe.

Alya: it’s why Chloe likes her so much. She lets Chloe get away with everything and tries to get her to be nice.

Alain’s eyes were wide at such a scandal.

When Alain’s witnessed his first akuma, he was at art class, making a photo collage of the students.

Let’s just say Chloe didn’t take criticism well at her first attempt at fashion design. Let’s also just say there’s a reason she stole Marinette’s design instead of relying on her mother’s genes.

Point is, Fashion Critic could make her harsh criticism a reality.

During that time, Alain had run for cover.

Unsurprisingly, Alya had run in the opposite direction.

Frightened, Alain asked for help as to where to run to.

Alya: There is no safe house or bunker. Akumas usually blow those up. Here in Paris, just run for cover.

Alain: any ideas?

Alya: not really. I don’t hide.

Alain: ....

Nino: don’t worry, dude. I know where the guys like to hide. Follow me. I’ll take him, Alya.

As they were running, Alain pointed out it should have been Alya leading him to safety.

Nino: she would have delegated it to me anyway. That girl loves to get her scoop.

Alain frowned in disapproval but said nothing. But perhaps he could try to talk to Alya later.

He did, and even Marinette took his side, when they both said she should stop running after akumas.

Alya: the public needs to know!

Alain: can’t you just post the location and powers and physical description? Why do you need to record the whole thing?

Alya; how else will my blog be popular?

Marinette: it’s still not safe, Alya.

Alya: oh relax, it’s not like the Teachers are complaining.

Ok, so Ms Bustier not only lets bullies run rampant without correcting their behavior, she also does not stop dangerous habits.

Curious about the students, Alain decides to be nosy. He visits the bakery and tries their delicious breads. He talks about animals with Mr Cesaire. He explored Juleka’s boathouse. He even babysitted Chris.

One day, Alain just so happens to visit the embassy building where Mrs Rossi works, at a time when she would be leaving for home.

Alain: Hello, excuse me, are you Mrs Rossi?

Mrs Rossi: Yes. And you are?

Alain: I’m Alain. Lila’s classmate. I thought I recognised you from her photos.

Mrs Rossi: oh. How nice to meet one of Lila’s friends. But I’ve been so busy with work, I barely have the time to spare.

Alain: I understand. But it’s nice to see you include Lila in your work.

Mrs Rossi: excuse me?

Alain: you know...you brought her to Achu last year to help out Prince Ali.

Mrs Rossi: I never went to Achu.

Alain: um...Lila was gone for months and FaceTimed us from there.

Mrs Rossi: when did this happen exactly?

Alain nervously tells her.

Mrs Rossi: Lila has been lying to all of us, it seems. She told me the school was shut down because of akuma attacks.

Alain: what? Akumas last only a day. The school has been disrupted by them, yes. But everything goes back to normal the next day. Didn’t you try calling the principal?

Mrs Rossi is stiff and she thanks Alain. She needs time to think. More than that, she wants another person’s opinion and confirmation about akumas before she decides on what else to do.

The next morning, Lila is at school. She makes no reference to Alain meeting her Mother. In fact she prefers to avoid him because he is so annoying. He rarely asks about her adventures and the questions are obviously and disinterestedly polite. What teenager isn’t excited by Jagged Stone?

In the middle of class, Lila is asked to the principal’s office. She returns fuming, with Mrs Rossi and the principal by her side.

Mrs Rossi ordered her Daughter. “Tell them the truth Lila.”

Lila is forced to confess her lies. In addition, for forging her mother’s signature and truancy, she is hereby expelled.

An akuma arrived to target her. As Caline rushed Lila away from the akuma, Marinette actually ran out and used her purse as a makeshift butterfly net. Since she wasn’t feeling negative (actually she felt pretty good about Lila getting exposed), the akuma was just fluttering around in her purse until Tikki threw a macaroon on it and proceeded to sit on it.

Alya is already posting on her blog about it, hopeful Ladybug will arrive to cleanse the akuma.

Marinette rushes out to the roof to wait for her there.

In the aftermath of Lila’s exposure, the class is certainly feeling wounded and guilty.

Caline is trying to advise them to forgive Lila who probably felt shy of their accomplishments.

Alain: Um, she asked me to carry her school bag because her arm was supposed to be sore from planting trees.

His words were a spark.

Kim: I bought her lunch.

Alya: I posted false information on my blog. Ok, technically I didn’t fact check. But Lila was not innocent!

Rose: I donated my summer job cash on her fake donation! (She proceeds to sob)

Caline: but she has already been punished, shouldn’t we extend our friendship to her now that she is alone?

Alain: She didn’t look all that repentant if you ask me. Didn’t you see her smiling at the akuma?

Adrien: Lila wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt us.

Alix: what a psycho.

Caline: that is enough. I want you all to forgive Lila and try to reach out a hand in friendship.

Ivan: But she’s dangerous

Max: and clearly not well if she keeps on lying that she can call Ladybug right after admitting she lied about knowing her.

Alain mutters to Ivan, “Wanna bet that Ms Bustier becomes Lila’s puppet if she actually does this?”

The next morning, Caline actually tries to order the class to say one nice thing about Lila and to write her a nice letter. Never mind that she clearly heard Alya report that Lila was exiled from Paris after Chat Noir admitted she had been working with Oniichan to endanger Ladybug. Apparently he had somehow heard how Lila was smiling at the akuma and suspected she was in league with the terrorist.

Alain so couldn’t wait for the term to end.

When it finally did, he gladly reported to the school board his investigation on the akuma class.

He blames Caline mostly for her redundant perspective that people need to forgive bullies and liars instead of educating them and correcting their behavior. Like seriously, how else would the victims get justice? She also lacks a sense of responsibility in that she refuses to correct Alya’s lack of self-preservation.

His advice: fire her or suspend her indefinitely, send her to get proper training. Get the class a strict and just teacher with a sense of fairness.

Once his job was done, Alain sighed and emptied his bag of textbooks. He could really go for some wine.

[thehuntervining]

Week 4, Blog Post #2

According to the article "Three Reasons Junk News Spreads so Quickly Across Social Media", the main reasons that social media has contributed to the spread of fake news are: algorithms, advertising, and exposure. Although algorithms can be very useful, they pose certain consequences for social media users because they project information in a way that doesn't promote healthy, conscious, human decision-making. Algorithms filter information that comes across newsfeeds by selecting information that will increase user engagement. This means that algorithms provide information that is already popular; they provide information that people have already clicked on or responded to a bunch of times. This is a negative consequence because these algorithms are not providing any new, informative information; in other words, algorithms supply information and links to things we might already support or be interested in. There is no new content that contain different viewpoints, which makes it harder for people find new information or develop different perspectives. I've noticed around election time that I always see links and sources from a Democratic viewpoint because these algorithms know my political viewpoints from things I've already looked at. While I'm aware that the algorithms are manipulative, a lot of people may not realize this, therefore resulting in a lack of research containing any relevant contradicting information.

Advertising contributes to the spread of fake news due to clickbait and manipulation. Clickbait spreads fake news by attracting attention from users through stimulating emotion, whether it be negative or positive emotion. Clickbait often plays into peoples' viewpoints and biases by integrating past behavior and opinions into the advertisements it portrays. For example, I remember seeing a lot of clickbait advertisements about Donald Trump during the 2016 election. Whether the advertisements were for or against Trump, the clickbait would use catchy headlines in order to get people to click on the advertisement. These Trump headlines provide good examples of clickbait and manipulation in the way that they target voters with manipulative messages and fake news.

Finally, exposure contributes to the spread of fake news on social media by only exposing information and news that people already have an inclination towards. People often share their beliefs, viewpoints, and preferences on their social media, which results in selective exposure of information that they support and believe. A couple reasons people selectively expose themselves is because they want to take cognitive short cuts by taking in readily-available information or they don't want to expose themselves to new and challenging information. One example I can think of someone selectively exposing themselves is my father. My father is firm in his political stance and readily exposes that information on his Facebook, which results in him only seeing advertisements, links, and other information directly related to his political stance. If I sent him an article containing contradicting information about his viewpoint, he wouldn't read it because his mind is set in stone; he isn't one to consider new and contradicting information (regarding politics) because he only has eyes for what he supports. I'm not saying this is a terrible thing, but it does go to show how exposure can have an affect on developing new viewpoints and gathering controversial information.

[starfaring-princelotor]

-

First Scent

-

Summary: Emperor Lotor makes a full recovery.

-

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.

★ Warnings: N/A

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Scent Series: Part One

-

“We are all on the same side. It doesn’t have to change our future together.”

Kylan would never dare consider doubting Lotor, but he was also no fool to leave loose ends hanging, so to speak. He worked along with their leader and his intentions - his goal - was always about keeping Alteans and the invaluable culture of said race alive. Against all odds, all naysayers and doubters, he kept to it. And he succeeded. 

“You enslaved countless Alteans! How many innocent lives did you destroy?!”

Slaves? No. They were not slaves. They were not treated as such. If anything, they were flourishing and well on their way to becoming a better society than the one led by King Alfor. The progress was well on the way and the future looked bright. So, what happened? He needed to hear it, needed to have the physical evidence right in front of him. 

“Surely, you can see the greatness we’ve already accomplished -”

The audio distorted then, signifying Sincline was most likely damaged from an unsuspecting attack. 

“-llura, stop! You and I - zzt - Altean culture. We were meant - kkzzt -”

The black box was heavily damaged. Being exposed to the elements, especially quintessence, no doubt rendered it beyond repair. Except, Kylan knew how to save the proof and secure the device for future use. Plan B. Have a backup. Always have a back up. 

“You’re more like Zarkon than I could have imagined.”

He closed his eyes slowly, releasing a solemn and heavy sigh of disappointment. He wasn’t going to say he knew everything, even if the hidden picture was revealed right in front of him. No, what he has here ultimately didn’t matter in terms of putting Lotor back on the throne. 

“Who are you to question my tactics - “

But it was enough to clear his name. It was enough to show that Voltron started a whole new, deadly, and severely costly war by attacking the Emperor. 

*

They had suggested putting him in a pod to stabilize his quintessence levels. Lotor’s soul may have returned, but that doesn’t mean his body was in a relatively safe state. Logically, it made sense to use the technology at hand to quicken the process, but you convinced them to keep him on a bed instead. Convinced was putting it lightly. You wouldn’t move on your decision, even if it meant using logic as a tool to get what was best for Lotor.

“I will siphon it from him, as I do with the other patients,” you explained, “It’s safer this way.” 

It was your reasoning and also what you used to convince yourself, too. Your hand was loosely holding his as the steady flow of quintessence ebbed through the contact. When he had collapsed from exhaustion in your arms, you already knew that a confined space wouldn’t do well for his recovery. He needs to wake up naturally in a comforting environment, somewhere open, somewhere...safe. You promised him that at the very least. 

But the longer you stayed with him, the more you came to the haunting realization at exactly how bad it was for the Galra Emperor. His skin was shriveled, no doubt either from over exposure or the action of his soul literally being sucked out of his body. Maybe even both. But the inside is what worried you the most. Starvation. His organs were scarily dehydrated. Lotor’s system was off for so long, you weren’t sure he could even eat anything nourishing. 

And, oddly enough, there were times you couldn’t...see him as a patient. You saw him as something more, something beyond just Emperor. Allowing those buried thoughts to unfurl left your stomach stirring in uneasiness. 

Lotor wasn’t talkative. Recovery was slow and, sometimes, he barely woke up long enough to sip water or open his mouth for ice chips. You weren’t even sure if he was coherent enough to answer the typical questions for patients who experienced such acute delirium. Do you know who you are? Where you are? What happened?

No. No, overflowing with too much would stunt his progress. Plus, you often found yourself hesitating to even speak with him. Maybe it was wrong of you to take advantage of his illness to push your own discomfort away. If he didn't ask, you don’t need to answer. But there were urgent questions lingering between you two and you know they will come around to rear its ugly head eventually. You’ll have to face them, whether you like it or not. You’ll have to hear what he has to say. What you’ll say. What you’ll feel. 

But...

Lotor first. Your thumb ran over his knuckles softly, gaze longingly focused on your conjoined hands. Lotor first. That’s how it felt like when trapped in Sincline’s…

*

The Black Paladin has seen many haunting horrors in his life, but nothing will be more traumatic than seeing his own body as a corpse. No...his alternate self was alive, he just looked shriveled and sick and rotten. Sunken eye sockets, skin blemishes from what he knows as quintessence burn. The bite marks, oh, there were so many torn in his suit. Different sizes, different states of decay. 

But he was safe and, more importantly, alive. Now, the matter of what state his mind will be in is something not even he can help with. 

“I will pass the message on to the doctor once Emperor Lotor is in stable condition,” Kylan accepted the letter handed to him by the Black Paladin then carefully slid it into his coat pocket, “Thank you, again. You have done us a great honor. Saved us all, actually.”

Yet, as much as he would like to accept such gratefulness, he couldn't help but keep his lips set in a firm line. Saved them? Or condemned them? This war in his reality wasn’t theirs to deal with, but wouldn’t it be just as neglectful and dispassionate to allow the hoktril to be exposed to other realities? A double edged sword. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. 

“I only hope that his return was not too late. Unfortunately, time does not appear to be on our side as of late.”

Kylan nodded in agreement, “You have your duties, we have ours. And yours must be urgent if you need to leave so soon.”

Nebulous orbs slowly closed, easily remembering the scribble he quickly jotted down for your eyes only. A message, a dire one, explaining why his leave of absence was absolutely necessary, but not for the reason anyone would assume. The Black Paladin had received a distress call, one he had not heard from in a very, very long time, and he had every intention to answer it. Sven’s voice rang in his ears clearly, as if he was standing right behind him. His hushed whispers panicked from hiding. He knows the tone well.

“I implore you to use the communication stone with utmost discretion. However, as soon as matters have settled here,” Paladin Lotor gave a wave, a vague gesture at all of this, “Let me know when your forces are ready to fight.”

He gave a noble, respectful bow. He shouldn’t have regrets, but perhaps he had one nagging the back of his head. Chewing on his tongue, he wonders if it was his cowardice that told him it was better to leave without telling you face to face. 

*

If there was one thing Emperor Lotor despised about hospitals, it was the smell. The acute, sanitized scent of alcohol and sterilization never brought him comfort when awake. Even now, during every odd moment he would rouse from a deep comatose-like state, he found it absolutely much worse. The air was cold, chilling his nostrils, yet there was a warm blanket covering most of his body, all the way up to his shoulders. Warmth...something he cherishes now that he had the cold touch of death’s finger beckon his soul from his body. 

It took days for him to realize he was alive, longer to know that the doctor had dutifully tended to his recovery. It wasn’t easy, regaining his senses and awareness. His thoughts were slow, as if relearning everything that which went dormant in his mind. Words, thoughts, actions, feelings. Feelings...like your hand gently clutched in his. Not at all unlike that memory of falling in a pit of darkness, tethered by the mere simple contact of entwined fingers. 

And damn, to remember that utopia-esque simulation. Was it a simulation? It all felt too real. Too perfect, too...happy, one he thinks he will never really get to experience ever again. That love, that peaceful life, that completion. At the time, he didn't question it. Who would? But now, now as you read the holographic screen and scanned the details about his vitals in silence, he has so many to ask you.

Was it a hedonistic crime to still feel that inkling of love as he stared fondly at you? 

Or maybe...that was just a lingering side-effect. A sort of after-high from being forced into an addictive drug-induced state of mind from a mere memory. 

You knew he was awake. Lotor made it clear with his silent shifting, a gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, and a slight, almost quiet, groan of discontent when he felt his body ache in the worst possible ways. Part of him would've chuckled at the thought that maybe you were avoiding him, or rather, avoiding looking at him. Then another part would caution that it was wise of you to do so, for both yours and his sake. 

Maybe, just like him, neither of you were ready to ask questions about the intimate life you shared. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, both of you can pretend it didn’t happen. It was a trick. A ruse, a test. One conjured deep from within the heart’s desires and brought to the surface without warning or care. 

The light above was dimmed in a cool blue hue, offering him a sense of peace and tranquility, but what really helped calm his nerves was the smell of a warm cup of hot chocolate wafting through the air. A promised treat, giving him the freedom to choose if he wanted to drink or simply hold it in his hands. And yet, he didn't reach for it.

Lotor reached for your hand. You gave it willingly, almost instinctively, and he was quite aware of how his heart beat just a little louder at the gesture. Lotor wasn’t sure he liked that or not. Well, he did, but he shouldn't. He really shouldn't because it was wrong to harbor such feelings for you considering the circumstances. But the heart wants. The heart yearns. 

Lotor can control it. He swears he can. 

So many unspoken words between you two, yet silence was clearly winning here. Then again, he can’t complain too much. Or at all, really. Your thumb slowly roving over his knuckles was nearly entrancing. The simple touch made his body compliant, whether because it was you or because the action itself was an unconscious act on its own, he would never find out. 

You stopped suddenly then gave him a light squeeze, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be…” he paused, recalling how he felt when falling out of that cockpit, the panic, the pain, the cold, so, so cold, “fine.”

And while normally, those few words would be firm confirmation that you’ve done your job flawlessly well, you can’t help but let your heart seed doubt in your mind.

“And you, good doctor?” 

Was he asking about your health or how you felt coming out of that life-like experience?

You twisted your wrist, closing the holographic screen before giving him your full attention, “Coming back to life is not what I expected, but neither was dying. It was different than-”

A twinge in your shoulder pulsed, reminding you of the last time you danced with death so romantically. 

“I recovered faster than you. Kylan informed me i was gone for a mere few minutes. Clearly not long enough for all the heat to leave my body, but long enough to give him a fright.”

Lotor had a certain look behind his eyes, a certain longing for the truth. You turned away.

*

It’s been a week. The metaphorical wall was back up. But it wasn't just you that decided avoidance was the best course of action for now. He, too, opted to shove those unanswered questions in the back of his mind as far as he could. Lotor only wondered exactly how long he can let it fester. How long you could let it fester. Maybe the two of you were more alike than you want to admit. 

When the deepest, most intimate, most raw secrets and desires surface, that exposed vulnerability suddenly becomes a dangerously choking weak point. Becomes something to fear. Becomes tangible and no longer yours to hide. But to acknowledge such a thing now? What? Were you two going to sit and talk about it? Have a coffee date and reminisce of those fake nights of feeling safe in each other’s arms?

No. It was much easier, much smarter, to stay focused on the goal. It was more important. 

Was it awkward? Not at all. You dressed him in silence with careful fingers, wary that the lightest of touch could bruise his still-healing body, and he watched the concentration consume your task. Such a simple thing spoke volumes to the careful observer. Lotor was the patient. You were the doctor. Play the roles well and everything will be fine. 

But just to be sure…

“We are not going to talk about this, are we?” he asked his one question, voice just a tad lower than normal, meant only for you to hear. 

Slipping the new bracelet around his wrist, you waited a few moments until the indicator glowed green, “No. Not now.”

Lotor’s hands went slack at his side, a sign of obedient understanding. He offered his hand to you, not as a gesture of intimacy. It was for his health, of course. His quintessence levels were still a little high. He was sick, still out of sorts, and a full recovery only worked if kept to schedule. 

For his health, you told yourself as the two of you walked out of the room hand in hand. 

*

“Dear Esteemed Doctor,

By the time you receive this letter, I will no longer be in your reality. I have been called back with urgent news and must return post haste. Please accept my humblest apologies for the sudden leave. If I had the time, I would have stayed to offer you my aid at any cost. With your Emperor under your care, I have no doubt that the next step with our alliance will be needing as much resources and command as possible. Rallying the forces as soon as possible will be difficult, though if there is any advice I may impart with, it is this: 

Galra are survivors, through and through. 

When civil wars raged upon our brothers and sisters, history has repeatedly shown that it is not the toughest fighter who wins. Rather, it is the one who fights to protect the one at their side. 

I look forward to seeing you once more in the near future. Please, stay safe.

Sincerely,

Lotor”

His handwriting was eloquent, not a curve or line extending awkwardly in the entire paragraph. At first glance, anyone would take in the script as romantic at face value, but the prose itself was completely opposite. He wasn’t here anymore and, as the Black Lion Paladin, of course the he had to tend to his duties. With Voltron, no doubt a shining beacon of hope for those suffering in his reality, he couldn't risk squandering his time. 

You folded the letter then pocketed it in your coat, waiting for orders from Emperor Lotor, who was sitting at the helm of the ship and staring deeply off into space. Kylan had updated him about the current situation. Colonies displaced, warlords razing worlds for their own, Haggar’s search for him. That last one put him on edge. Yes, he’s well aware you worked for her, but he is also aware of your need for self-perseverance.

Or perhaps, it was for a completely different reason? If Sincline utilizes memories from souls, then he should’ve seen his mother’s memories mixed in yours, as well. Assuming, of course, you were brainwashed like his previous... 

Lotor isn't such a naive fool to believe you would never lie in the face of certain death. He caught on faster than expected, knowing full well that sometimes telling people what they want to hear is for your own benefit, not theirs. Manipulation was often a tactic swept under the rug and reserved for those who were labeled as cowardice rats. Weak. Not strong enough. Not smart enough. 

No. Not you, though. In the short time he’s known you, words were your choice of weapon in a fight. And apparently, his mother was desperate enough to fall for your schemes. One day, he’d compliment you on such a ruse. One day, he’ll tell you that she was actually the one who gave birth to him. How would you take it, he wonders? Anger at leaving the minor details out? Distrust? Betrayal? 

“-of Marmora have gone underground. There has been news of Voltron recently en route to Earth months ago in response to Sendak’s battalion overthrowing the planet. Olkarion has been devastated by unknown forces and survivors have been scattered. Currently, no one has claimed the throne at the main headquarters and the next crowning ceremony will begin in but a few short weeks. Many separated factions are - “

Lotor had options. Many paths he could take to begin repairing the split and broken empire. He could free planets that were overtaken by warlords, spreading hope and securing rogue armies. No, that was what Voltron did and they failed to protect those they promised. Perhaps return to headquarters then declare his status as alive? He will certainly have more resources at his hand then. But no, Haggar and her spies would discreetly sabotage his throne.

Recruit the scattered Alteans? No, he doesn’t have the forces necessary to defend them all right now. They were safer with their captains, fortified with the necessary firepower and supplies. What of the Blades of Marmora? Should he spend valuable time searching for them? Their espionage skills will be most beneficial, especially with their network of spies spread out all over the universe. Then again, what about Voltron? 

What about Voltron, indeed. 

In truth, Voltron had more use as a gun than anything else. Perhaps there were still people faithful that it was their savior, their answer to all this despair and death in the galaxy. Yes, he could save them. That fight when he was piloting Sincline showed him where Voltron’s strength truly lies: as a false ray of hope. It was weak, in more ways than one. 

However, the problem with saving Voltron would confuse many people. If he were to align with them again, that would leave many to doubt his role as a leader and the Emperor of the Galra Empire. He would lose support in the time of need and Voltron itself wasn't good enough to go around. He needed numbers and he would take a loyal military over a disillusioned vigilante any day.

A conundrum, indeed. 

“Doctor, Kylan. A moment of your time, please.”

The Emperor ordered the rest of the crew around to give you three some much needed privacy. You stood at his left, Kylan at his right, both in silence. It was no surprise that just like Lotor, you were already calculating what the best course of action would be. Or at least, the best without risking potential deaths and destruction.

 “Sir, rallying the Blades would greatly help connect our network with those still loyal to the throne. Although it may take some valuable time to search for their leader and the rest of their members,” Kylan took a deep breath before continuing, “We simply do not have the power alone to protect the Colony and the entirety of the universe, let alone the upcoming war with the other reality.”

Lotor glanced at you from the corner of his eye, awaiting your input. While Kylan’s plan was sound, he couldn't afford to make a hasty decision so soon. 

“Sendak has taken over Earth, where Voltron currently resides. I don’t know the lore following the mech, whether the pilots need to be dead before the lions accept a new paladin, but leaving a nuclear cannon that can rip holes into other realities is not something we should leave to a power-hungry warlord. Find out if the paladins are alive. If they are, fight Sendak with both Voltron and Sincline on your side.”

“And if they are not?” the Emperor asked, partly curious about how you would react to your friends dying and partly curious as to why Earth, the one place you didn't want to return to, was even an option you’d consider. 

“If not, then…” you trailed off, “If not, steal one of the lions. Voltron cannot be formed without all 5 pieces together. At the very least, it will prevent Sendak from using it to its full potential, regardless if he has located new paladins.”

“Stealing requires stealth. Something the Blades can provide,” Kylan interjected. 

“A distraction works just as well. Drawing Sendak’s eyes off of Earth, even for a short time, will give us a small chance to enact our plan,” you countered, then placed a finger on your lips in thought, “If Sincline can attack his battalion, that’s more than enough attention to keep Sendak on a trail.”

Lotor found both plans sound, but there was a small problem, “Sendak will not take the bait. He fights with the ferocity of a thousand suns, but he views a proper battle for the throne as an honor. To taunt him to fight me, use my status as alive in order to claim rights over the empire is not how he views righteous combat.”

“You are the Emperor. If strength is not what determines loyalty, then perhaps it is better to show him with fealty and duty.”

You knew little to nothing about Galra culture, but that letter folded in our pocket did tell you one thing: Galra are not savages. Their history goes beyond blood and guts and gore. It’s a mystery you hope to read about one day, discover how wise veterans compare to the current warriors of the Empire. If what Lotor says is true, then maybe one of the strongest warlords in the galaxy will yield to the rightful emperor. 

“Very well. Here is my thought: Kylan and I will send for a search party to locate the Blades of Marmora. They will need this ship and I will not risk the Alteans on board near Sendak’s sights. While we are carrying out our side of the plan, doctor, you will go to Earth and infiltrate the military base as a slave. Give us the details of where the lions are and generally pass on the intel about what is going on. Because you are human, I would imagine it would be quite a simple task for you to blend in,” Lotor bit the inside of his cheek, “Blend in carefully. You are going into the mouth of the beast, after all. From there, we go either two ways: take a lion or confront Sendak. I will leave that judgement up to you, doctor.”

“It’s risky. I don’t suppose you know how long it would take for you two to find the Blades?” you questioned, though already knowing the answer.

Kylan pinched the bridge of his nose, “No. We are not even sure if the Blades still exist. If that be the case, then we should have a back up plan.”

“Regardless of how this turns out, doctor, we will need updates about Voltron and Sendak. Can you handle this on your own?” came Lotor’s final question, but there was a hint of...concern visible in his tone. 

Earth, the place you were born in. Earth, the place you left behind for good. Earth, the place soon to be used as a slavery planet for Sendak’s militaristic needs. You’re not heartless. You don’t like the idea of death and destruction on any planet. And that’s what Earth was to you, after spending so many years away, it was just another planet. The attachments you had all died with your father. 

For what reason did you have to keep any ties with the land? This was for the safety of the universe and much more.

“Yes. yes, I can. Just don’t leave me behind if things take a turn for the worst.”

Again.

*

 There was a knock at your door, drawing you to pause from packing what little belongings you had into a rucksack. 

“Come in.”

And so he did, all of his tall glory stepping into your meager room. Bland, plain, empty and void of sentimentality. Lotor wonders faintly if you lived your entire life like this, with little color and even littler personality. It looked remarkably like the room back on the Castle of Lions. The door behind him closed slowly, but he had no intention of leaving soon anyways. 

“Was there something important I missed?” 

Lotor stayed silent, watching you and trying to think of how to exactly say his thoughts. He was a man of action when the time was right and right now? Part of him was choking at the very thought of you being alone on a planet ruled by Sendak. His heart screamed at him when he suggested the plan, calling him a fool, an idiot, a bastard that keeps risking those he loves -

No. No, it wasn't love. He had to remind himself that. It was NOT love. 

If it wasn't, then why did you come here? 

Wordlessly, he bent over to unclasp his boots and pile them neatly by your door. Next came his gloves, followed by his waist cape, and then the rest of his armor until he was standing before you in nothing but his skin-tight body suit. The entire time, you watched in silence with only the beating of your heart getting louder and faster in your chest. 

The heart wants. The heart yearns. 

“May I stay here tonight?” he asked, but surely he already knew you would say yes. Surely he did. Surely you would. 

With a soundless nod, you slipped off your coat then hung it up, just for tonight. Not a doctor, not a soldier, not fighting, not running. Just...being. Existing. Like when trapped inside Sincline’s simulation, except this will be real. Was it okay to do that one more time? 

Lotor slipped under the sheets with you, trapping you between the wall and his solid frame. He was never one to call himself a man who hesitates, but he did exactly that when he cautiously slid an arm over your waist to pull you closer. Closer still, until his chest was flushed with your back and his nose nuzzled the top of your head. This let him take in your scent, as if trying to burn it in his memories. 

That’s when it clicked. As much as part of you wanted this, you needed it. You both did, after cheating death together. The way he held you tight. The way you leaned into him. He was … scared, just like you. There was no certainty you would not be killed, nor him surviving the trek to find the Blades. You two just found each other again and, while your partnership before wasn't deemed as together, as someone to fight alongside the other, the idea of being separated so soon started to leave an uneasy tension in the air. 

There were other ways. More safer, less isolating. He could come with you. Or you can stay with him. Strength in numbers, right? 

Oh, where did the confidence go?

Gentle fingertips touched over his knuckles, asking permission to hold, to thread together and seal an unspoken vow between you two. A promise that you can do this, that he will find the Blades, that everything so far is only the beginning and it will work out in the end. It was two simple words. Just two.

Trust me. 

[frickyea-guacamole19]

Also, just to add: Leaving them alone implies that the royal family cares about what others say. I doubt that. And I highly doubt the royal family uses tumblr.

Thank you for making it clear in your previous ask that your distain was not directed at me. I appreciate it. And the same goes for you. I’m just mourning the loss of a leader and I apologize if my comments or any part of my response comes off as harsh or biting. I also apologize if I’ve misquoted anything from the New York Times in my response. I’m just writing this response to explain why I do not view the late Prince Philip as evil or the Royal Family as uncaring. And, for clarification, I never said Prince Philip’s death was shocking. He was 99, and has been hospitalized on multiple occasions in recent years. Of course it was expected, you’re absolutely right.

In addition, as far as the references to his life are concerned, please feel free to refer to the article on Prince Phillip’s death, published by the New York Times. The history channel also published an interesting piece on his involvement in the Invasion of Sicily. They were truly very informative. Before I read it the other day, I was also one of those people who wrote Prince Philip off as a bad person.

I completely agree with your points, save calling the late Prince Philip evil. As a child he was smuggled out of Greece in a fruit crate during the Turkish attacks on Greece. He lived in poverty, having to keep his identity a secret for years, keeping in mind he was in line for the thrown in Greece and came from the Royal Danish bloodline.

Throughout his youth, he was sent to various schools across Europe. And while most royal children were home school, the schools he was sent to were to harden him. You can fact check me on this but at the schools he was given a bed with no mattress of any kind (if you’ve slept on hardwood alone for even one night, imagine doing it for an entire school year at boarding school), and the only kinds of showers he had access to were cold. In his five years at a particular school of which I do not remember the name, his family never came to visit him. They just dropped him there. I can’t imagine how difficult not seeing your loved ones for five years must’ve been.

As he grew older, he chose to take part in World War II. He was the outstanding cadet in his class at Dartmouth and fought on several ships including the USS Missouri, the battleship that was the final stone cast leading to the Japanese surrender in World War II.

Prince Philip spent a lot of his time and resources having playing fields and other amenities built for impoverished youth in Britain and always put his wife first. Even though she was descended from Queen Elizabeth and Victoria, he still was in a position where he could have taken power from her and claimed responsibility for changes she made, but he didn’t.

The late Prince was also the reason for success in the allied invasion of Sicily during World War II which, at the time, was overrun by Germans. He was the one who identified their Italian ships in the dark.

Moreover, when it came to Buckingham Palace, he modernized it. He was the reason intercom‘s were installed at Buckingham, so they weren’t running messengers ragged to the bone day in and day out. He had a kitchen installed in the Royal Suite and bought a washing machine, encouraging his children to partake in normal activities such as cooking for themselves, doing their own laundry, etc. Prince Philip was always seen opening his own doors, carrying his own luggage, and doing other day-to-day mundane activities himself.

I am unsure to what you are referring when you call him “evil“. But doesn’t everyone in their lifetime say it and do things that are neither respectable nor kind? Obviously there is record of him being unkind or too brash with his words. For some people, that is just their personality. And yes, it is rude and harsh, but there’s always room for forgiveness. And look at all the good he did. 

There were problems in his marriage early on, yes. But he remained loyal to Queen Elizabeth II for all 73 years of marriage. He sent prince Charles and maybe prince Andrew, if I remember correctly, to the same schools that he attended. He subjected them to those environments so they wouldn’t become comfortable with having everything handed to them on a Silver Platter. So that they learned to work for themselves and not take advantage of the prerogative of status. He wanted his children to remain grounded and self-sufficient. Though none of them wrote their own speeches, as he did.

All of us as humans are products of our circumstances. It’s really a miracle that he didn’t become harsher or colder as a father, considering what he went through. 

Now, to address leaving Buckingham palace alone. The Royals are celebrities. This means that most likely they have managers for certain aspects of their lives. People to control what exposure is given/received. I would certainly be shocked if the Royal Family didn’t have employees who kept eyes on every social media platform for content regarding them. regardless of whether or not they are actually used by members of the Royal Family. This includes Tumblr. Every upper level celebrity has people to do that for them. It’s how rumors and scandals are handled in modern media. With grace from those receiving the backlash, with the help of mediators and the like. So the odds of the Royal Family or someone working for them seeing these comments and remarks about the late Prince Philip are high.

Also, at the most basic level, someone has died. A man well loved by a good part of his country, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend. It is out of place and rude to assume the Royal Family doesn’t feel anything. We are all human. And, whether we like it or not, it doesn’t feel good when people have things to say about us that aren’t good or kind. Goo Hara and Sulli were both incredible women who committed suicide, overwhelmed by the hatred and criticism they received from the media and thousands of people every day.

Hatred is pointless. It’s not fair to say that someone who you perceive as mean or evil is impervious to unkind words. Never judge a book by its cover. The royal family appears standoffish and cold on occasions because of the image that is portrayed. But that is only what people are allowed to see. We are all human and it is unfair to say that the royal family doesn’t care about the comments based off of what you see of them. There is no one on earth who’s ever lost a loved one and not been deeply wounded by that loss.

Prince Philip was a good man. He had his downfalls, like any other human word. We can’t extrapolate those moments of unkindness over someone’s entire character. If we did that, no one would have any friends and we’d all be perceived as evil. On that same token, it is equally as unhealthy to deify anyone, or perceive them as perfect or without flaw. I’m sure there are things that Prince Philip has said and done that I have not heard of that are less than savory, unkind, mean, and any other negative adjective you’d like to use. regardless, again, at the most basic level, someone has died. It’s disgusting and repulsive to be so mocking of someone’s death.

A man just died. Let’s show some human decency and respect, please.