#i refues to believe he's gone

[dovewingkinnie]

glamrock chica loses her friend can you tell im devastated by montys death in ruin

[firsttimewriter92]

I would love a sirius x reader fic set during OoTP where the reader works at the Ministry while being part of the Order like Arthur and Kingsley, and she's staying at Grimmauld Place with Sirius. She often comes home to find him drunk and touch-starved during the school year when the only other person in the house is Kreacher. thanks xx

Hello dear anon :) I know it´s been a while since you sent me this ask. I hope you´re still in the mood for it :P I kept it pretty tame but there´s a lot of angst and it developed into a huge slow burn. Hope that´s all right and everyone enjoyes it <3

Words: 7.536

Warnings: Angst, cursing, (f!) hufflepuff reader, mentions of Sirius being bisexual, kissing, slow burn, fluff

12 Years

“Oh, for fucks sake, not again” you whisper sighed as you entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place number 12. “Third time this week” you grumbled as you looked at Sirius´ slumped over figure sitting on the polished wooden table. His arms cushioned his head that was laying on the surface, an almost empty bottle of fire whisky next to him. No glass.

Taking off your shawl and coat you walked over to him to assess the damage. It wasn´t as bad as it usually was. At least this time he was clothed.

Three months ago, your boss and mentor Kingsley Shacklebolt had brought you to your first order meeting. The moment he told you what the order was and what they did, you exploded on him. Why didn’t he tell you about this order sooner? Didn’t he trust you enough? Wasn’t he confident enough in your abilities? Kingsley had just stood there stoically, letting you spit fire at him. When you´d finished, Kingsley sighed deeply and started explaining his reluctance to you.

He knew. Of course, he did. He knew who you´d meet again, once you set foot into headquarters and he didn’t know how you´d react. He was right to do so actually. The first time your eyes had met those of Sirius Black, it had flared up again. That nauseating feeling that haunted you for 14 years. Guilt, sadness and loneliness were flooding your system with only a small glimmer of hope and relief.

It was so surreal to have him in your general vicinity again. Two years younger than him, your time at Hogwarts had been the happiest you´ve ever felt. When puberty hit you like a freight train and the mischief of James Potter and Sirius Black became legendary, your hormones betrayed you in the worst possible way. A major crush on the black-haired teenager formed itself inside your chest over the years. Clawing at your ribcage every time you saw him in the corridors, you hated the feeling. You hated his beautiful face, you hated that your body reacted the way it did.

As a Hufflepuff and general people pleaser you´d despised his arrogance and his devil may care attitude. Especially towards the swarms of girls hanging onto the seem of his cloak. You´d stolen glances from afar, never exchanging a word with him. You paid attention instead. You saw everything and liked only so much. His pranks amused you; his bullying infuriated you, his attentiveness to his friends and the younger students warmed you. 

Sometimes, especially after the holidays, you saw him sitting in the great hall amongst his friends, a dull and empty look in his eyes and your heart had squeezed so painfully that you had to look away. About a second later, when you dared to look again, he was grinning and joking like nothing had happened.

And then, one year into your Auror training, your world came crashing down on you. You arrived at the ministry and immediately felt the air buzzing with dread and excited relief all at once. Grabbing the daily prophet that was handed to you with shaking fingers, your knees gave out then and there. Sirius´ face, screaming and laughing manically, stared at you. Ice replaced your blood as you´d read the news.

James and Lily dead. The dark Lord gone; a little boy still alive. Sirius? A cold-blooded murderer and traitor; already in a cell in Azkaban. You refused to believe it. You refused! James was more than a friend to Sirius. There was no way he was a death eater. Sirius had never made a secret about his hatred towards his family or how much he loved his friends.

That´s when your letters had begun bombarding the ministry.

__________________________________________________________

Now, here at Grimmauld place, you had to watch Sirius fight every day just to try and keep his sanity. Between the usual order meetings and the children coming to visit for the holidays, he drank himself to sleep every night. And ever since you´d moved into one of the bedrooms upstairs, you helped him into bed or at least onto a couch every night. Dumbledor was the one who´d asked you if you wanted one of the rooms upstairs. “Less commute” he´d said, remembering your dislike of apparating quite vividly. When asked if he had any objections, Sirius had only grunted before disappearing into Buckbeak´s room.

He wasn´t always unpleasant, however. Sometimes you did have conversations when meeting in the library by chance, although they´d always turned out quite meaningless. You couldn’t figure out if he wanted you there or not.

Around the holidays when the house was full, so his heart seemed to be. He warmed up to you, brought you tea, filled your plate at dinner (much to the surprise of everyone at the table) and conversed with you a little more enthusiastically. At these rare occasions you began to see glimpses of the flamboyant teenager return into his grey eyes and his small grins. Your heart beginning to flutter in your chest yet again. Then the teenagers returned to Hogwarts and so did Sirius´ sour mood.

It was about two weeks after Christmas now and therefore the 14th day of you finding Sirius black out drunk early in the evening. You walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen and pulled out the last flask of potion you´d brewed for him. It usually woke him up enough for you to be able to manoeuvre him around and lessen his hangover the next day. You hadn’t quite figured out how to make it potent enough to get rid of his drunkenness completely. It was an immensely complicated brew.

Sighing, you uncorked the flask and moved Sirius into a sitting position. He mumbled something and flopped around in your arms like a rag doll. Leaning his head back you put the flask to his mouth and poured. Sirius tried to get out of your grip very weakly and some of the potion spilled from the side of his mouth. “Come on, Sirius, please” you said urgently. “Swallow, damn it.” He finally did. When the flask was empty you gently guided his head back onto the table and waited.

You knew he wouldn’t be sober when he woke up but at least he would be coherent enough to work with. Slowly he began to stir. His head lifted and with a deep groan he leaned back into his chair, holding the bridge of his nose. The long black mass of hair on his head was dishevelled but still wavy and bouncy as it had been all these years ago. The little streaks of grey on his temples and in his beard only contributed to his still very much intact attractiveness.

Sirius wiped at his mouth absentmindedly and opened his eyes. Grey orbs found yours sitting across from him immediately. Instantly you recognized the defiance in them. Great.

“I asked you to give me that shit in the mornings. Not when I´m trying to sleep” he croaked hoarsely in a cold voice. You rolled your eyes. “I´m not letting you sleep at the table, Sirius. Not when you own a bed upstairs. But I can´t lift your arse, so…” you shrugged and looked at him challengingly. You´d figured out quite quickly that trying to be compassionate and soft with him in these situations had no impact whatsoever. Sirius huffed and wiped at his face again to try and gain more control over his movements.

“Never asked you to do that” he slurred slowly. Hot annoyance burned your throat when you answered in a hiss. “´S better than you trying to climb some stairs, falling backwards and breaking your fucking neck.” Sirius laughed humourlessly and looked you straight in the face.

“Not so sure about that.” He had a weird glimmer in his slightly sunken eyes.

“For fucks sake, Sirius!” you yelled as your fist hit the table. Sirius flinched only slightly as you regarded him with a furious look. “Could you at least pretend that you care about your own life? I know you´re lonely and frustrated. I´m sorry I´m annoying you by staying here but the order still needs you! Harry needs you!” You knew you had him with that. His godson seemed to be his only lifeline sometimes. “I won´t pretend to know what you had to go through, Sirius. But you´ve been given a second chance at this, even though you didn’t even get a first one. And you´re drinking it away. Stop it!”

Sirius looked at you for a long time. Breathing heavily his eyes threw daggers at you and internally you just waited for him to cuss you out. That didn’t happen though. Sirius stood up from his chair without breaking eye contact with you. You didn’t like the way he started walking over to you, almost predatory. So, you stood as well and backed away against the table. Of course, you´d crossed a line.

Watching him step closer and closer you had no idea what he was trying to do. The moment he stood right in front of you, his breath hit your face. It reeked of alcohol, and you crunched your nose a little bit. Sirius grinned, showing off his sharp canines.

“You´re worried about me” he sang triumphantly but couldn’t quite remove the belittlement from his voice. Even though you were sure he could feel the heat emitting from your face, your stomach churned with rage instead of shame. “At least someone is” you hissed quietly. He ignored it and only raised a single black eyebrow. You hated how good he looked doing that.

“Don´t tell me,” He breathed and leaned down closer to you. Fuck, fuck! Too close! “You have a little crush on me.” Your head snapped up immediately and your face must have betrayed you because Sirius´ face lit up in sarcastic glee. He chuckled darkly as his eyes scanned your face quickly. “Is that why you wanted to live here? Aw, that´s nice. How old are you? You couldn’t have been in my year at Hogwarts. I´d sure as fuck remember you.” Again, there they were. The waves of nausea crashing over you. Your infatuation with him mixed with worry about his behaviour started to become a cocktail of resentment and pity. You didn’t want to feel this way about him.

“Get the fuck out of my face, Black” you growled and leaned further away from him. Something dangerous mixed itself into his swirling grey irises and your stomach sank.

“Come on now, birdy” he whispered, leaning over you and talking against your neck. Your breathing faltered and hitched, your hands gripping the side of the table hard. “You´re pretty enough. You´d be a delightful way to pass the time.” Shock almost made your body convulse. You knew he was still drunk but his words were so clear. You felt cold, useless and helpless. His lips ghosted across your pulse when he spoke again. “Don´t be a prude, now.”

WHACK!

Your arm pushed him away from you forcefully before your hand collided with his cheek with full force, knocking him back a couple of steps. Breathing heavily, you stood upright and glared at him. His head was still turned so you could see his pale cheek turn red by your smack. When he looked back at you, you didn’t see rage or confusion in his eyes. In fact, they looked almost apologetically, like he knew he´d fucked up but was too proud to admit it.

Your eyes were slits when you spoke next. “Have it your way, then. I can´t deal with a three-split persona. Either hate me, tolerate me or fucking ignore me completely. But one more disrespectful bullshit act like that and I swear, Black, you´ll have one less ally here.”

With those venom laced words you turned on your heel and stormed out the kitchen and upstairs to your room.

Sirius stood there alone in the kitchen for another few minutes. The alcohol was still thrumming in his veins, but he was all too aware of what he´d done. What he´d said, even as he said it.

Of course, he knew you were right with everything you´d said. And that infuriated him more than he cared to admit. Why were you even here? After a stressful day at the ministry, you came back to a horribly decorated, dirty, uncomfortable hellhole of a house, a house elf that insulted you whenever he got the chance to and a fucking drunk man child. Every night. Sometimes he´d wondered how he´d gotten onto the sofa in the library or into his own bed after drinking. He´d had an idea that it might have been you, but he couldn’t be sure. Now he was.

You´d always made him drink the hangover potion that was in the cabinet in the corner. Had he ever thought about how it got there? Who bought or made it? He couldn’t remember.

You didn’t deserve this. He actually came to appreciate your presence over the holidays. He found you witty and bright, a delight if he was honest with himself. And the fact that you were a special kind of beautiful in his eyes didn’t help at all. So why couldn’t he allow you to grow closer to him? You clearly made an effort to at least know him better.

Bitterly he walked over to the almost empty bottle of whisky, setting it to his mouth. Thinking better of it he stopped, turned and poured the remains down the sink. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. Either hate me; He didn’t hate you. Tolerate me; He wanted to do so much more than that. Or fucking ignore me completely; How the fuck was he supposed to do that when you just…existed?!

He really needed to get his head out of his arse. That was no way to talk to anyone. You just wanted to help. Why though? He´d never seen you before. At least he couldn’t remember but then again, he´d surely lost a lot of memories back in prison. You must have been at Hogwarts.

Oh fuck, were you an old flame?! His body went rigid when he thought about that. It would kind of explain your behaviour towards his advances. Or…OR, you dickhead, she just didn’t want a sorry drunk, smelling like a distillery all over her. Sirius shook his head. Why was either rage or excessive flirting always his default? Because he didn’t think you´d react like that. He was way out of line of course, so he really didn’t think his hunch about you having a crush on him would have this much of an impact. How the hell could you like him when he behaved so poorly in front of you; when he hadn’t paid you much attention since you´d moved in?

Maybe he should start doing that.

________________________________ 

You lay in your bed that evening, hot tears running down your face and sweat beading at your forehead. You felt so lost. Had you really been holding onto this teenage version of him so desperately that you couldn’t see how much he was suffering now as a man?

It´s true, he´d never asked for your help. Were your actions overstepping boundaries of his that you just couldn’t see? He´d made you feel so insignificant that evening with just a few words. You felt downright dirty and even though he didn’t really do anything more than graze his lips along your neck, you felt used.

You´re pretty enough…enough. Was your intuition really this bad? Had you read him all wrong for all these years? No. He was drunk, he was frustrated, he was alone. Maybe someday he´d let you help him with at least that. His loneliness.

__________________________

The next evening there was supposed to be an order meeting and you were dreading it like nothing else. You tip toed around the house the whole day, praying that you wouldn’t run into Sirius at least until the Meeting started. Unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky.

When you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, you crept along the corridor quietly as to not wake up the shrieking portrait of Sirius´ mother. Just as you were about to open the door to your left down into the kitchen another one further down the corridor opened and Sirius walked out. Both of you stopped immediately when your eyes met. Your whole body went rigid and hot acid bubbled up your throat. Sirius stood still. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. He sighed deeply and his eyes changed into something calmer and softer.

He opened the door to the room he´d just exited again and waved you over. When you couldn’t move from your spot, his face contorted into a pleading look and he mouthed a ´please´, waving you over once again. And even though your legs felt like jelly, you started moving. Your heart was beating out of your chest when you passed him. You noticed he smelled clean. Clean clothes, clean hair, no alcohol on his breath or his skin.

You walked into the little study and turned around just as Sirius closed the door timidly behind him.

He squared his shoulder and looked at you. You were sure he could see your shiver.

“I have to apologize” he rumbled. “I behaved…incredibly disrespectful towards you last night and you have every right to resent me after what I´ve said.”

You stared at him. That wasn’t exactly what you expected. But it was also very much welcome. You stayed quiet, noticing that he was still trying to talk, having difficulty finding the words. So, you gave him time, schooling your features into not looking at him like you wanted to be anywhere but in his presence.

Sirius started pacing and mumbling before he looked at you again. “´S been difficult” he whispered. “I´m sorry, truly.” He hung his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “I´m not really sure what else to tell you. I-I don’t know you. But…maybe that could change? I mean, you live here. Might as well be…house…mates? Urgh” he groaned loudly and only stopped when you started giggling. He whipped his head in your direction and raised an eyebrow.

You stood there and watched him fight tooth and nail to explain what he wanted and honestly, after his apology you found it kind of amusing. Sirius was anything but insincere, so you didn’t question his motives in wanting to get to know you better. You appreciated it immensely and slowly your body relaxed, the acid in your throat started to retreat.

“Listen,” he said with a lopsided smile, his eyes glued to your smirk. “You can´t laugh at me for having terrible interpersonal skills. I was incarcerated for 12 years.” Your giggle immediately stopped as you looked at him with guilt.

“Relax” he said gently. “Sometimes jokes are the only thing that help me coping.” You nodded hesitantly.

“Did I even introduce myself properly when we first met?” he curiously asked.

“Not exactly” you said with a small shrug and a smile. “You were half drunk and just grunted.”

“Merlin´s beard” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He stood tall and walked over to you.

“Can we start over then? Can I salvage my reputation somehow?” He stood before you. Tall, handsome and kind. His hand was outstretched.

“I´m Sirius Black. Welcome to my lovely home” he said in a deep velvety and mildly sarcastic voice that made the hair in your neck stand up. “It´s nice to meet you, ___.” It was heartfelt, the way he said it. You reached out your hand and shook his. “Likewise, Mr. Black” you said.

He didn’t let your hand go for a moment, a grin spreading on his face. One that let him look years younger, one you wanted to see for all eternity. The little crinkles around his expressive grey eyes were the most adorable thing you´d ever seen.

Sirius looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he gently guided you out of the study and down into the kitchen. “By the way,” he said as you descended the stairs. “You´ll find that my humour is kind of fucked. I´ll stop the heavy drinking, promise. So, no need to walk on eggshells around me, ´k?” He turned his head up to you, giving you a beautiful angle of his neck and the tattoos that scattered down from his ear and disappeared into his collar.

“If you´re sure” you said with a grin of your own. His eyes blitzed amusedly as the both of you entered the kitchen. What you didn’t see was the curious look Arthur and Molly Weasley exchanged when they saw Sirius pulling out a chair for you before sitting down himself.

_______________________________

 The meeting progressed and plans were made. The debate was already heated enough before Snape decided to speak. The moment he opened his mouth, your eyes rolled to the side. You resented that man with every fibre of your being. Mostly because he seemed to have it out for Sirius. Taunting him whenever he could. It was unnecessary and just plain vile.

“It´s easy for you to say, Black. You´re just sitting comfortably in your home while everyone else is either being productive or helpful. At least not all of us have to deal with your bipolar character” Snape snarled and gave you a pity filled look. You were about ready to tell him to kiss you where the sun don´t shine when Sirius spoke up. He was relaxing into his chair, staring at Snape with a victorious grin.

“Congratulations, Sniffellus. At least you got the bi-part right.”

Snorting into your wine glass you coughed several times before trying to hold back a fit of giggles. You looked at Sirius´ smug face grinning at you. His eye twitched to look dangerously like a wink and you knew that the heat in your cheeks didn’t form because of the wine.

_______________________________________

The days after became more and more comfortable. Sirius kept his promise to you not to drink excessively anymore and greeted you sober every evening when you returned. You ate dinner together and talked a lot more. You actually began looking forward to coming back to Grimmauld place every night. The kitchen was cozy and warm, soft light from candles and gas lamps illuminated the space as you sat at the table, sharing stories from your time at Hogwarts and your Auror training.

Day after day Sirius seemed to hang onto your every word more and you slowly got to know his sense of humour and therefore gradually you stopped feeling guilty whenever he made a joke about his time in Azkaban. Of course, you knew that deep down, 12 years in that horrible place left its marks, but it seemed like he was done with showing them to you.

“So,” he said one evening, cheeks tinted a beautiful rosy colour from the wine he´d poured the both of you. “You were two years under me. A Hufflepuff and a brainiac.” His voice sounded impressed. “What I can´t believe though” he said and took a swig of his wine, “Is that you were a beater in the quidditch team, and we actually played against each other?!”

You grinned and nodded. “We did. I remember it vividly. I´d just gotten into the team and our first match was you guys. You were in your last year. I tried so hard to hit those bludgers in your or James´ direction, but my strategy was futile. James was too quick, and you were too wicked on a broom” you shook your head in mock disbelieve while Sirius´ eyes gleamed with excitement.

“I don’t get it” he said with an almost dreamy look on his face. His chin rested in his palm as he spoke. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you´ve got spark but I would have recognized that in school. You told me you were a closed off and private. But then you go joining the quidditch team as a beater no less. How?”

You smiled at him. “Well,” you said amusedly and took a sip of your glass. “I was closed off, that´s true. But that doesn’t mean that I had no personality. There was a certain potential of rage. I had to let that go somewhere.” You shrugged with a grin. Sirius looked at you impressed.

He topped off your wineglass and spoke. “I´m impressed. The closed off, timid girl, grew up to be a fearless auror.” You shook your head. “Fearless is not true” you said calmly. “Fighting death eaters fearless is a stupid idea. Makes you end up looking like Mad eye” you smirked and winked at him. Your palms encased your cheeks as you spoke in a high-pitched voice. “Compared to him and looking at all this” you turned your head prettily left and right, “I was scared shitless every time.”

Sirius threw his head back an bellowed a joyous laugh. It fitted him so well all you could do was stare at him in awe. He wiped at the corner of his eyes and gasped for air. “Merlin, I really regret being such an insufferable prick to you up until now.”

“Thank you” you said earnestly. “You´re not so bad yourself.”

He smiled at you sweetly. “And we never talked in Hogwarts?” he asked. “Are you sure?” he sounded almost hopeful. You huffed laugh and shook your head. “I´m sure” you said, feeling the wine coursing through your veins, making you bold. “I avoided you like the plague.”

Sirius´s face fell, and you were quick to answer. “It wasn’t because I thought you were a bad person.” Quite the opposite actually. “More like…you were…intimidating.” He raised an eyebrow at that. “Intimidating?” he asked. You nodded.

“Yes. You and your friends…you were legendary as it was. Everyone either knew you, hated your guts or was crushing on you” you could feel your face heat up once more. “I just didn’t see the point of being one of many, you know.” You smiled at him timidly, his expression somewhat empty. “I did pay attention, though.”

A little more light appeared in Sirius´ eyes at that. “You were?”

You took a deep breath and downed the rest of your wine. Fuck it!

Nodding you continued. “Yes. I mean, you were hard to miss. But I´d often see how you joked with your friends, how you comforted the younger students. It was nice to see that side of you. It always made me wonder why you decided to act on your ´attention whore´ attitude more. But then again, I didn’t know you privately, so I don’t even know if I´m right with that.” You rushed the last sentence and reached for the wine bottle. Sirius´ hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. His fingers were strong but gentle.

Goosebumps appeared immediately on your skin. The little hairs on your forearm standing up when you looked up and directly into his eyes. He regarded you with a look full of wonder, gratitude and something pleading. “What else did you see?” he whispered, leading your hand down onto the table, not letting go. Ok, this seemed to be a little too intimate, but you were damned if you broke eye contact for even just a second. It was time to come clean.

“I saw how you always seemed different when we all came back from holiday. At least for a few years. You were always…sad one minute and then chipper the next. It looked fake.” His eyes grew wide. “I saw how your eyes would not leave Remus´ plate that you packed with food until he was done eating. That always happened after he turned.” Sirius´ fingers tightened. “How do you know about that?” he asked in awe.

You raised both eyebrows. “As I said. I paid attention. Still do.” At your words and to your utter delight, Sirius began absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the soft skin of the underside of your wrist. There was no way in hell he didn’t feel the insistent and fast beating underneath.

“I saw a lot of things that made you more than just an attention seeker to me. What I didn’t like, at all, was the bullying. James and you. You were both better than that. Sure, Snape was a little git but…sometimes you overdid it.” Sirius hung his head for a moment and nodded silently before looking at you again. An ashamed look spread across his face. “I know. We could be quite…insufferable. At that age you don’t really think about these things” he said quietly. You nodded in understanding. “I know. And I also know that Snape wasn’t exactly innocent himself. But I guess it´s no wonder he hates your guts. He´s still a bloody git, though.” You grinned at him.

Sirius took a deep breath. “You saw all that without ever having spoken a word to me?”

“Yes”

Sirius looked impressed and incredibly moved.

“´S no wonder Kingsley bursts at the seams with pride for you. I guess death eaters have no chance when it comes to you.”

Blushing hard you grinned bashfully but shook your head. “I´m not that good in the field” you said, and Sirius raised an eyebrow in doubt. “But when it comes to interrogations, if they make it that far, I´m actually very successful. I either get a full confession or at least some names. Always.” You spoke the last part with as much confidence as you could muster, hoping you´d impress him at least a little bit.

“Wow” Sirius breathed. “And you think I´m intimidating?” You giggled. “No, not anymore, actually.” He seemed very pleased with that.

You sat there for a moment in silence. Your eyes trained on his tattooed fingers still gently wrapped around your wrist. Ever tiny movement they made sent waves of shivers over your body.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sirius asked quietly. “HmHm” you mumbled, still not looking up. “Please, look at me” Your head snapped up at his tone. His eyes were filled with something so soft it made your heart quake.

“I can´t stop thinking about it…The other night, you said I was drinking my second chance away.” You nodded. “Even though I didn’t really have a first one. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh” you said and looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I meant your trial.”

Sirius´ eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“M-My trial?” he stuttered out? “I didn’t-“

“-get one, I know. That´s what I mean.”

He looked at you with a shocked expression before his face relaxed. A grateful smile stretched onto his lips as he looked at you fondly. Slowly, his fingers that held your wrist moved to lift your hand up to his face. Not breaking eye contact he gently but firmly pressed his mouth to your knuckles, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs. Times stilled. The edges of your vision blurred, and a loud beeping noise filled your ears. It felt like you were about to pass out from a fever when his lips left your skin, and an uncomfortable cold ran over your back.

Sirius set your hand back onto the table and seemed reluctant as he let it go.

_____________________________________________

The next days were a blur. A happy blur. You were walking on clouds, you were dreaming so much more vividly and to no surprise, Sirius´ face always ended up being the main character. Sirius seemed much happier as well. He went out of his way to make you comfortable. For the past week now, he´d cooked you dinner and scolded you whenever you tried to help him out. He´d point his finger at you, his eyes comically narrowed and told you to sit down at the table.

It also seemed like he tried to be closer to you whenever he could. He´d stand closer to you, he´d sit closer to you, he´d guide you through doors by the small of your back. It all wasn’t helping your situation at all. He changed his behaviour towards you so dramatically, you weren’t able to stop your old crush from coming back. Not when he looked at you so dreamily sometimes, not when you both dissolved into laughter about some silly story, not when you thought about his lips on your skin.

Every time you thought about that night, your whole body started to tingle. The little flirts just came naturally to the both of you. So much so, that it was in no time, that the whole order noticed something was going on. Most of them seemed very pleased by the fact that they didn’t have to deal with Sirius´ outbursts anymore. Especially Remus. He regarded the two of you often with mirth in his eyes while Tonks almost ripped out his arm when she noticed as well.

The only thing that dampened the sugar high you constantly seemed to be on, was the fact that even though Sirius and you started flirting heavily, nothing ever came of it. In the last minute, either him or you, would draw back and either laugh it off or deal with a few moments of awkwardness. There was a magnetic pull forming between the both of you, and both of you felt it. It got stronger with ever shared meal and laugh.

These days, it got so much harder to fall asleep. Your heart beating against your ribcage so insistently that it was a herculean task to calm down. Apparently, it started to show.

You came down into the kitchen one Saturday morning with Sirius working on the stove. Even though you felt knackered, there was no way you would ever not appreciate his broad shoulders and lean back, covered by some raggedy old band-shirt. You smiled fondly at his back. He heard you approach and turned halfway around. “Good morning, darlin´.” Again, goosebumps everywhere and your heart going ballistic. “G´ mornin´” you yawned.

Sirius turned the stove off and turned to you fully. The smile on his lips vanishing when he saw you. “Are you feeling ok, ___? You look tired.” He rounded the table quickly and came to a stop close in front of you. So close. It took everything in you not to take a deep, deep breath.

“Fine. Didn’t sleep well last night” you said. Lie. You haven’t been able to sleep properly for a couple of nights now.

Sirius looked around your face worriedly. “Do you need one of those pick me up potions you always gave me? I can give you some money to go get them.” That made you chuckle. You lifted your hand and very gently ruffled the soft, black locks on his head.

“Oh, Sirius” you said smiling. “I didn’t buy them. I made them.” It took him a moment to let your spoken words sink in. His eyes went impossibly wide, then slightly damp. You retracted your hand from his head. 

Sirius couldn’t hold on. In one gentle swoop he bent down slightly and pulled you into his chest by your waist. Your arms wound around his neck in an instant. Delirious with happiness you pressed your forehead against the side of his neck and felt the vibrato of his voice against it as he hummed contently. He smelled divine. A mixture of firewood, tobacco and something citrusy. It smelled like coming home and you felt your crush bloom into something much more valuable. It didn’t scare you at all. You were cradled in his arms, his cheek atop your head, his hands gently caressing the small of your back. You could´ve stayed like that forever.

“There´s nothing I could give you to make up for all the shit I´ve put you through” he whispered into your hair. “I don´t deserve the kindness you´ve given me or are still giving.” You shook your head against his neck and wanted to speak, but he was quicker. “You make it more than bearable to stay in this house, love. I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t decided to move in.”

You stook on your toes to be able to hug him closer and he pulled you in with a desperate sigh against your ear. “I was such a fucking arsehole to you. I´m so sorry.” Hot tears formed in your eyes when you heard his tone. “You are lonely” you choked out. “And frustrated. I get it.”

“…was” he whispered and slowly withdrew just a little to look you in the face. His gorgeous, regal features were formed into a look of gratitude and longing.

“What?”

“I was lonely and frustrated” he emphasized. “Not anymore.”

His blazing silver eyes took in the entirety of your face before closing them and leaning his forehead gently against yours. “I´m glad you´re here with me” he said before kissing your forehead and almost sending you to the ground. The tears spilled over. Sirius noticed them and used his little finger to wipe them from your face.

“Why aren´t you able to sleep? What do you need?”

“I think it´ll be a little easier now” you said with a watery smile. Sirius nodded his head, for the time being, he was satisfied with your answer.

“Let´s eat breakfast before everyone shows up for the meeting. The moment I have to look at Snapes hair, I´ll not be able to eat for hours.”

_________________________________________

The meeting went quite well. Most of the time people were calm and the plans you´d made weeks before, finally came to fruition.

You were sitting beside Sirius who´s palm sat comfortably on your thigh underneath the table. It burned your skin and made you a bit drowsy with longing, but you paid attention still.

After the meeting, some of the members stayed for dinner and drinks after. Everyone had a great time. Sirius and you stood a little to the side, close together and smiling happily.

“Well, finally” came a booming voice from the table and your head swivelled towards Kingsley. He had a dopey grin on his face, wiggling his eyebrows as he regarded Sirius and you. It was evident that he was quite tipsy.

“I really thought it would never happen. You two” he pointed at the both of you and with a hiss you gestured for him to quit it. “Kingsley” you whisper yelled while Sirius next to you just tried to bite back a huge grin. “What?” Kingsley slurred. “You could at least thank me, you know. For bringing you here. ´S the last thing you deserved after all these dumb howlers. Haha!” You felt the colour drain from your face. Oh no. Oh no. “Kingsley, shut up!” You hissed at him again. Sirius looked very curiously between you and Kingsley.

“What howlers did you send him, darling?” he asked in an amused tone.

“SO MANY HOWLERS!!” Kingsley yelled and nearly fell of his chair. “You´re lucky I started intercepting them when I became your mentor. If the committee had found out that the one terrorising them with howlers was actually an auror trainee…I tell ya. You wouldn’t be an auror today.”

“Oh Merlin, help me” you sighed. “Kingsley, please just drop it.”

Sirius´ face was filled with question marks. “What in Merlin saggy left nut is he talking about?”

Kingsley explained. “You see, dear Sirius. This one,” he pointed at you with a shit eating grin. “This one wouldn’t take no for an answer. She tried to send them anonymously and for the most part it worked. Until they set me on it. I found out it was you,” he playfully glared at you. You wanted to sink into the floor and never emerge again. “At this point I was already training you and you had so much potential. So, I made it work.” He sounded so proud of himself.

Sirius had walked over to Kingsley, still smiling and trying to figure it out. “What howlers did she send Kingsley? Why would they be so dangerous for her career?”

“Oh” Kingsley said, and his eyes went big. “Oh, you don’t know.” Sirius looked taken aback.

“I don’t know?”

“Yeah, the howlers, the letters she sent. They were because of you.”

Sirius went still, staring at Kingsley intently. “What do you mean, they were because of me?”

“Kingsley…” you tried again but your voice was too quiet. You could only let it happen. You´d try to explain it to Sirius later. That was, if he didn’t throw you out the house.

“They were trial demands” Kingsley said matter of factly and the air was suddenly too think to breath. You felt like drowning.

“Trial demands” Sirius whispered as he put two and two together. He turned to you slowly. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, embarrassment making your skin feel like it was on fire.

“Kingsley?” he asked in a dry tone without looking away from you. You felt his eyes boring into you. “Kingsley, when did you intercept the last demand?”

Kingsley hummed. “Hmmm…. the last one I got was about four days before your escape from Azkaban was made public. Before that, they came in once a week like c-clockwork.”

You heard Sirius take in a sharp breath. When he spoke next, he was calm, quiet and somehow sounded unsure. As if he couldn’t believe what he´d just heard.

“You…you tried to get me a trial…for 12 years?”

Your shoulders pulled themselves upwards as if you were trying to sink into your own body before you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard a sniffle from somewhere to your right. It sounded like Molly Weasley.

“___” you heard Sirius say. His tone was choked up and still unsure. “Please look at me” he pleaded.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t bare the look on his face. He already knew about the crush you´d had on him in school and now he´d found out that even as a grown woman you tried so hard to get with him. He must be so appalled.

You shook your head no.

“12 years?” you heard him ask again.

You nodded.

“Every week?” His voice was closer now.

You nodded. His shoes appeared directly in front of you and you cowered back against the counter even further. “Don´t do that” he whispered. “Don’t…please, look at me.” His voice cracked and at that your head snapped up to look at him. The sight broke and healed your heart all at once.

Silent tears were running down his tinted cheeks. His eyes were swimming with something you couldn’t pin point. With a wobbly voice he spoke.

“You didn’t believe it was me?”

“Of course not” you whispered, throat tight.

“Why not? Everybody else did”

“There was no fucking way you´d betray James” you shook your head defiantly. “No way. It all fit too well. They used your family name and the reputation behind it. But I knew you couldn’t have been a death eater. I saw you…in school…” Your own voice began to crack when you thought back to the day you learned what´d happened to him.

Sirius nodded slowly. “Yes. You saw me. You saw me. You always have” Gentle, warm hands lifted to your face and encased it. Sirius looked at you like you were the only other living being in the world. Another tear fell down. “Don’t you ever, ever, call your feelings for me a simple crush” he said and smiled at you. “I didn’t know I had such a loyal warrior out there.” Your face was also tear stained by this point. You sniffed and Sirius gently shook his head.

“No more tears, my love. I´ve got you now.” And with that, he pulled your head to his and pressed his lips to yours. It was like a rubber band snapped in your chest. As your hands tangled in his hair at the base of his neck, he hugged you ever closer, lifting you a little and moving his lips more insistently against yours. This was right, this was perfect.

Open mouthed kisses were pressed against your lips slowly, thoroughly. There was no sound except for his breathing and his heart. A throat cleared itself in the background and with a groan Sirius let go of your lips, looking at you. His grin seemed excited. You didn’t have a chance but to reciprocate it.

“You know that it´s not a simple crush you have on me, right?” Sirius winked at you. You nodded in defeat and leaned your forehead against his chest. You felt his chuckle. “Come on, dove” he taunted you good naturedly. “Call it by its name. Please?”

Your eyes met his and they twinkled with a juvenile excitement you hadn’t observed on him yet.

“I´m in love with you” you said and smiled.

Sirius closed his eyes to let your words really penetrate his mind and soul. The hands around your waist tightened before he nodded with an equal smile. Again his lips met yours. This time, shorter, sweeter.

“So am I” he whispered against them. “I love you. My beautiful fighter. You´ve saved me.”

___________________________________________________________

thank you very much for reading. If you liked it, please leave a reblog or a comment so I can improve :) I´m grateful for every feedback I get. Thanks a lot

[jefarawol]

There was something about her. The way we spoke. That made me believe that there was something I was missing. And without a second thought, I just stood there as she fled. It felt like we were two sides of the same coin, and it wouldn't be long till I was seeing her again.

I came back out in time for my reenforcements to arrive, headed by Artoirel. He stared at me dumfounded when I told him what I'd found. The Durendaire knights took over and asked me to report my findings to Redwald so they could set up an excavation front.

Artoirel walked back with me. I could tell instantly that his attitude was different. There was an awkward staticness to the air as we walked.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Mistress Jefara," Lord Artoirel began, "I would speak plain."

They walked through the fresh snow. The storm had ceased for now, but the clouds above still threatened to spill at any point.

"From the first, I questioned your motives and your competence" he continued, "unjustly, I now realize."

She looked up at him, and for the first time he looked at her without animosity in his eyes. There she now saw shame, she didn't understand why.

"At Camp Riversmeet, when we came upon the wounded knight, I knew immediately that one of us would have to pursue the heretics alone. An onerous task, fraught with danger"

Not the first time I've gone head first into an unknown storm. She thought knowing it was likely not the last time either.

"And there you were─the savior of Eorzea and honored guest of House Fortemps. My new comrade-in-arms. Haurchefant's dear friend."

He hung his head low. Jefara looked up at him, his ears tinged pink, cold or embarrassed she knew not.

"I told myself it was to be a test, but part of me...part of me hoped that you would fail."

Her step faltered for a moment.

"You wanted me to fail. Why?" Never before had someone actively doubted her. It was a strange feeling that built in her chest. She already doubted herself, to have those doubts echoed now cut her deeply.

"My own failings as a man I assure you, not your own. Rumors have a way of growing more fantastic as they spread, and quite frankly, those surrounding you beggar belief."

"But Haurchefant swore that all the stories were true. He championed your cause and begged Father to grant you patronage"

He sighed deeply.

"And he duly listened, because for all his wisdom, he has never been able to say no to my dear half-brother─the legacy of my father's sole indiscretion. The bastard stain on our otherwise perfect house." He grimaced, as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Never before had he utter such words aloud.

Jefara stopped. "That word." She had heard it before once, in an echo.

'Bastards like us are never meant to be happy.'

At the time she paid it no attention but now hearing it again, she realized she did not know its meaning.

Artoirel turned, registering that she had stopped. "Word?" He asked dreading her response.

"Bastard." her eyes were fixed into the snow. She recalled the vision again. The way both Aymeric and Haurchefant had spoken, she knew it had not been meant kindly.

"What does it mean?" She asked looking up at Artoirel

He stared at her in a mix of shock and mortification, it took him a moment to comprehend that she did not understand its meaning at all.

"Ah- It. It means illegitimate," Artoirel could feel the shame rising in him, a word he never thought he would be explaining to someone ever. She still looked confused.

"Lord Haurchefant…" He took a breath. "... is my half-brother."

Her eyes went wide. Artoirel took a moment to compose himself, he knew there was more he would need to explain.

"Not long after I was born, our father had a secret relationship with another woman…"

"Not his mate?"

"Ah- no not his… mate," Artoirel matched her words in the hopes it would help her to understand. "From the union Haurchefant was born. Our father did not deny that he was his son, but my mother hated him, of course. Even on her deathbed, she refused to acknowledge him."

[vertebrates-and-pieces]

@lichenlad

Look, I was going to write a little snippet of him getting a cake. I swear that was my intention. Somehow this happened instead?? No cake was had, but the yearning was strong and things got way out of hand.

A Regular Thing

Warnings: some angst in a hurt/comfort context, foul language. Also this is hardly edited, unbetaed, and written entirely in one sitting, so it's a little rough.

At first he had you pegged for a sucker. Because, honestly, why else would you become a regular at his store of all places? Scam you once, shame on him. Scam you twice, shame on you. Scam you what? Over twenty times? Yeah, he wasn't sure who should be feeling shame at this point. Probably your parent(s) and/or guardian(s). Because if this grown ass adult still didn't understand that he didn't exactly have their best intentions in mind, something somewhere had gone wrong. It almost seemed unrealistic. No matter how many pieces of useless, defective, and sometimes actively harmful, junk he sold you, you still returned for more. Your skull must be full of nothing but unsalted pistachio shells. But then again there were people out there that earnestly believed that celery oil would cure them of degenerative bone diseases and make their ex take them back; there were people who actually clicked the limited time link to renew their car's extended warranty with this one simple trick [doctors hate him].

He knew from the fact that he still managed to pull in the occasional sale that there were, in fact, some real suckers out there.

But there was something different about this customer, about you. You didn't look, sound, or smell particularly desperate. Nor did you reek of excessive funds to waste on trash. Maybe his dumpster exile had left him noseblind, but he was pretty sure he was still sharp enough to sniff out a rat, and your behavior was giving him some definite hints of cheese. You apparently liked scrounging enough to linger, never ordering to-go. You took your time browsing his selection. You seemed to enjoy it. You smiled when you entered his little storefront. You smiled at him and there was an amused little twinkle in your expression that would always make all the hollow dusty spaces inside him fill up with nervous anticipation. It felt almost like a hopeful ember. Over and over he smothered those distracting sparks under his heel like a discarded cigarette butt. He was aware of his flammable nature and wasn't about to let himself get burned again. 

You weren't a sucker, he eventually concluded. You wanted something. Why else would you refuse to leave him to rot like anyone with half a brain already did a couple decades ago? He'd passed his sell by date: a washed up has-been in a rusty tin can hanging on a thread. A stupid fake phone with no one on the other end of the line. What you'd want from an old broken puppet was beyond him, but as you began to actively engage with him more and more, talk to him, listen to his empty promises, ask him questions, tell him about your day, he knew it had to be something. You looked at him with some strange sort of longing. The vulnerable honesty of the look was almost admirable. It made him feel like he had something of value to offer. It felt good. And damn if that didn't scare the 1 pair vintage white slacks [gently used] off him. 

His suspicions were all but confirmed when you started complimenting him. He was being buttered up and he could hear the pot boiling in the background. And in some out of the way corner of his mind he was starting to wonder if it would be that bad to dip in his toes to sample a taste of the broth he was about to be cooked in. Looks like the only real sucker here was him. Lining up at the gate to string himself up again and dance for the first deceptively friendly hand reaching for his reigns. He stomped on embers again in an effort to stop them from catching, but it did nothing. You were apparently some sort of Phoenix/Hydra hybrid [Has Science Gone Ttoo Far??] A trick candle that refused to be blown out, and he was running out of breath.

You weren't freedom. He knew this. You had no scissors to cut him loose from the fate he'd found himself woven into. You wanted something.

And apparently the thing you wanted from him was to take him out to dinner??

"WHAT."

"Nothing fancy, sorry, can't really afford that, but, uh," (and yet you could afford an overpriced one of a kind novelty crazy straw with a crack in the middle THREE DIFFERENT WAYS TO SUCK ??) "Maybe to like Dark Chilli's? Crap, I forgot its actual name, but the place a couple blocks away? The one with the 'Romhack Ribs'?"

"WHAT???"

"Sorry if I'm overstepping a boundary here. It doesn't even have to be a date! It can just be as friends if you'd prefer!"

Date??? Friends??? Where you… actually? Seriously??? Real?? [Not Clickbait]. 

"YOU ARE . ARE YOU. [SPECIL OFFER]ING ME???.. WHAT [what?] ARE YOU???"

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just, well, I guess I enjoy spending time with you. If you don't want to eat with me I hope you wouldn't mind if I dropped off a hot to-go meal? I really want to give you something to thank you for letting me hang around your shop. I'm probably not the best for business."

A part of him recoiled instinctively, doubting the sincerity of your claim. He'd made enough "Too Good To Be True" offers to know that there was always an ulterior motive, every bait hiding its inevitable switch, the juiciest worm wriggling on a hook, daring some idiot to take a bite. Spamton had bitten before, been pierced and reeled up, given a glimpse of blue skies and a shining sun. A world where giants walked. He'd been laid breathless on heaven's pier and measured by hungry eyes. He'd been told such sweet lies. Then he'd been tossed back into the murky pond in silent indifference, floundering and scarred, never given a reason for his rejection, though he knew all along he was too small to be a keeper.

But the way you were averting your gaze, stumbling over your words, face hot and blotchy from embarrassment seemed so unplanned, so real. Either you were one hell of an actor or even more crazy than he'd originally assumed.

"YOU. WANT TO [Thanks for Visiting!]??"

"Yeah, I do," you responded quietly, finally meeting his gaze, "Maybe I'm moving too fast but… I like you. A lot."

And in that moment it was as if you had finally laid out all your cards. You were not bluffing. This was really the hand you were playing, the hand you were offering. 

"YOU. LIKE ME." 

"I… really do," you confirmed with a sheepish smile.

And fuck if this wasn't the best thing he'd been dealt in a long time. For the first time in that very same long time, he really, truly felt like a lucky sonofabitch.

He couldn't help but laugh, and he couldn't stop laughing. You were serious. You liked him. You had asked Spamton G. Spamton out for a dinner date.

His retreating reservations made way for other ideas. This could be his next big break. He could work with this, play along and twist it to his advantage. Find a way to use this opportunity, wring this generous sponge for every last drop of wine and use its dry and depleted husk as another step up and towards his ultimate communion. If he was what you wanted all along, you were really a Class A Fool and he could easily play you as one.

"Spamton, are you okay? You don't have to say yes. Please don't feel obligated to-"

"YES." He cut you off with a force that surprised even him. "I [Accept All]."

Your eyes were blown wide and though they were hidden behind his [Funky Limited-Edition Spectacles] he knew that his were about the same. 

"Wait, when you say accept all, do you mean that you want to go get dinner with me? Or that you are okay with me liking you? Or…" you shifted nervously, weighing your next words carefully, "That you… also… likeme?"

"ALL OF THE ABOVE," he replied before his mind even had a chance to fully process what he was admitting. And, well, screw it all, turns out you were BOTH suckers, because he meant it. Here you were offering him a chance to get everything he'd been dreaming of, yet somewhere along the line those dreams had shifted. He didn't want to walk on top of you. He wanted to walk beside you.

And you wanted the same thing, as crazy as it was. Smiling like the idiot you were, offering a hand to shake to seal this ridiculous deal, and he took it, holding on a little too tight, idiot that he also was.

"See you tonight then." You told him. Despite what were meant to be parting words, you didn't let go of his hand. That suited him just fine. He didn't particularly want to let go either. 

"WHY WAIT!! YOU DON'T HAVE TO [Stop]. I'M [Right here, Right Now] [take advantage of this once in a lifetime] ME!"

It was your turn to fall into a fit of laughter.

He didn't tell you that his presence in any restaurant constituted a health code violation and that you'd likely get yourself banned for attempting to enter with him in tow. He didn't tell you how all the jokes you'd told him were bookmarked in his memories with little hearts. He didn't tell you how fast you made his fractured code race through his entire being, lighting up pleasantly tingly gates and pathways he had no idea he still had. He just laughed along with you. And neither of you let go.

[thesaltofcarthage]

Loki takes over: Tom Hiddleston on his new TV series and a decade in the MCU

from Entertainment Weekly

Ten years after Hiddleston first chose chaos in Thor, Marvel’s fan favorite God of Mischief is going even bigger with his time-bending Disney+ show.

By Chancellor Agard May 20, 2021 

Tom Hiddleston is Loki, and he is burdened with glorious purpose: After playing Thor's puckish brother for over a decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, no one understands the mercurial Asgardian God of Mischief as well as the actor. He can teach an entire seminar on Loki if given the opportunity — which he actually did during pre-production on his forthcoming Disney+ show. In conversation, Hiddleston quotes lines from his MCU debut, 2011's Thor, almost verbatim, and will playfully correct you if you mistakenly refer to Asgard's Rainbow Bridge as the Bifrost, which is the portal that connects Loki and Thor's homeworld to the Nine Realms, including Midgard, a.k.a. Earth. "Well, the Bifrost technically is the energy that runs through the bridge," he says with a smile. "But nine points to Gryffindor!" And when he shows up to the photo shoot for this very digital cover, he hops on a call with our photo editor to pitch ways the concept could be even more Loki, like incorporating the flourish the trickster does whenever magically conjuring something. The lasting impression is that playing Loki isn't just a paycheck.

"Rather than ownership, it's a sense of responsibility I feel to give my best every time and do the best I can because I feel so grateful to be a part of what Marvel Studios has created," the 40-year-old Brit tells EW over Zoom a few days after the shoot and a week out from Thor's 10th anniversary. "I just want to make sure I've honored that responsibility with the best that I can give and the most care and thought and energy."

After appearing in three Thor movies and three Avengers, Hiddleston is bringing that passion to his first solo Marvel project, Loki, the House of Ideas' third Disney+ series following the sitcom pastiche WandaVision and the topical The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Led by head writer Michael Waldron (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Heels), the six-episode drama sees Hiddleston's shapeshifting agent of chaos step out from behind his brother's shadow and into the spotlight for a timey-wimey, sci-fi adventure that aims to get to the bottom of who Loki really is. "I wanted to explore slightly more complex character questions," says Waldron. "It's not just good versus bad. Is anybody all good? Is anybody all bad? What makes a hero, a hero? A villain, a villain?"  

Even though Loki — who loves sowing mayhem with his illusion magic and shapeshifting, all with a major chip on his shoulder — has never been one for introspection, the idea of building an entire show around him was a no-brainer for Marvel. When asked why Loki was one of the studio's first Disney+ shows, Marvel president Kevin Feige replies matter-of-factly, "More Hiddleston, more Loki." First introduced as Thor's (Chris Hemsworth) envious brother in Kenneth Branagh's Thor, Loki went full Big Bad in 2012's The Avengers. That film cemented the impish rogue as one of the shared universe's fan favorites, thanks to Hiddleston's ability to make him deliciously villainous yet charismatic and, most importantly, empathetic. The character's popularity is one of the reasons he's managed to avoid death many times.

"He's been around for thousands of years. He had all sorts of adventures," says Feige. "Wanting to fill in the blanks and see much more of Loki's story [was] the initial desire [for the series]."

The Loki we meet on the show is not the one who fought the Avengers in 2012 and evolved into an antihero in Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok before meeting his demise at the hands of the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) in 2018's Avengers: Infinity War. Instead, we'll be following a Loki from a branched timeline (a variant, if you will) after he stole the Tesseract following his thwarted New York invasion and escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody during the time heist featured in Avengers: Endgame. In other words, this Loki hasn't gone through any sort of redemption arc. He's still the charming yet petulant god who firmly believes he's destined to rule and has never gotten his due.

Premiering June 9, Loki begins with the Time Variance Authority — a bureaucratic organization tasked with safeguarding the proper flow of time — arresting the Loki Variant seen in Endgame because they want his help fixing all of the timeline problems he caused while on the run with the Tesseract. So there will be time travel, and a lot more of it than in Endgame. As Loki makes his way through his own procedural, he'll match wits with new characters including Owen Wilson's Agent Mobius, a brilliant TVA analyst, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw's Judge Renslayer. The question in early episodes is whether Loki will help them or take over.

"One of the things Kevin Feige led on was, 'I think we should find a way of exploring the parts of Loki that are independent of his relationship with Thor,' or see him in a duality or in relationship with others, which I thought was very exciting," says Hiddleston, who also serves as an executive producer on the show. "So the Odinson saga, that trilogy of films, still has its integrity, and we don't have to reopen it and retell it."

Yet, in order to understand where Loki is going, it's important to see where he came from.

Hiddleston can't believe how long he and Loki have been connected. "I've been playing this character for 11 years," he says. "Which is the first time I have said that sentence, I realize, and it [blows] my mind. I don't know what percentage that is exactly of my 40 years of being alive, but it's substantial."

His time as Loki actually goes a bit further back, to 2009 — a year after Robert Downey Jr. big banged the MCU into existence with Iron Man — when he auditioned for Thor. It's no secret that Hiddleston initially went in for the role of the titular God of Thunder, but Feige and director Kenneth Branagh thought his natural charm and flexibility as an actor made him better suited for the movie's damaged antagonist. "Tom gave you an impression that he could be ready for anything, performance-wise," says Branagh, who had previously worked with him on a West End revival of Checkov's Ivanov and the BBC series Wallander. "Tom has a wild imagination, so does Loki. He's got a mischievous sense of humor and he was ready to play. It felt like he had a star personality, but he was a team player."

Hiddleston fully immersed himself in the character. Outside of studying Loki's history in the Marvel Comics, he also researched how Loki and the Trickster God archetype appeared across mythology and different cultures. "He understood that he was already in something special [and] it was a special character in a special part of that early moment in the life of the Marvel universe where [he] also needed to step up in other ways," says Branagh, who was impressed by the emotional depth Hiddleston brought to the part, especially when it came to how isolated Loki felt in the Asgardian royal family.  

There was a lot riding on that first Thor feature. For one, no one knew if audiences would immediately latch onto a Shakespearean superhero movie partially set on an alien planet populated by the Norse Gods of legend. Second, it was integral to Feige's plans for the shared universe. Loki was supposed to be the main villain in The Avengers, which would not only mirror how Earth's mightiest heroes joined forces in 1963's Avengers #1 but also give Thor a believable reason for teaming up with Iron Man, Captain America (Chris Evans), and the rest of the capes. Feige first clued Hiddleston into those larger plans when the actor was in L.A. before Thor started shooting.

"I was like, 'Excuse me?' Because he was already three, four steps ahead," says Hiddleston. "That took me a few minutes to process, because I didn't quite realize how it just suddenly had a scope. And being cast as Loki, I realized, was a very significant moment for me in my life, and was going to remain. The creative journey was going to be so exciting."

Hiddleston relished the opportunity to go full villain in Avengers, like in the scene where Loki ordered a crowd to kneel before him outside a German opera house: "It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation," says the Machiavellian god. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"I just knew that in the structure of that film, I had to lean into his role as a pure antagonist," Hiddleston recalls. "What I always found curious and complex about the way Loki is written in Avengers, is that his status as an antagonist comes from the same well of not belonging and being marginalized and isolated in the first Thor film. Loki now knows he has no place in Asgard."

Loki did find a place within the audience's hearts, though. Feige was "all in" on Hiddleston as his Loki from the beginning, but even he couldn't predict how much fans would love him. Feige recalls the reaction at the 2013 San Diego Comic-Con: "Did we know that after he was the villain in two movies, he would be bringing thousands of people to their feet in Hall H, in costume, chanting his name? No, that was above and beyond the plan that we were hoping for and dreaming of." It was a dream Feige first got an inkling of a year earlier during the Avengers press tour when a Russian fan slipped past security, snuck into Mark Ruffalo's car, and asked the Hulk actor to give Hiddleston a piece of fan art she created. "That was one of the early signs there was much more happening with this quote-unquote villain."  

Despite that popularity, the plan was to kill Loki off in 2013's Thor: The Dark World, but the studio reversed course after test audiences refused to believe he actually died fighting the Dark Elves. Alas, he couldn't out-illusion death forever. After returning in Taika Waititi's colorful and idiosyncratic Thor: Ragnarok, Hiddleston's character perished for real in the opening moments of Infinity War. In typical Loki fashion, before Thanos crushed his windpipe, he delivered a defiant speech that indicated he'd finally made peace with the anger he felt toward his family.  

"It felt very, very final, and I thought, 'Okay, that's it. This is Loki's final bow and a conclusive end to the Odinson saga,'" says Hiddleston, who shot that well-earned death scene in 2017.  

But, though he didn't know it yet, the actor's MCU story was far from over.

When Hiddleston returned to film two scenes in Avengers: Endgame in 2017, he had no idea where Loki portaled off to after snatching the Tesseract. "Where'd he go? When does he go? How does he get there? These are all questions I remember asking on the day, and then not being given any answers," Hiddleston recalls. To be fair, it's likely the Powers That Be didn't necessarily have answers then. While Feige can't exactly recall when the writers' room for Endgame first devised Loki's escape sequence, he does know that setting up a future show wasn't the primary goal — because a Loki series wasn't on the horizon just yet.

"[That scene] was really more of a wrinkle so that one of the missions that the Avengers went on in Endgame could get screwed up and not go well, which is what required Cap and Tony to go further back in time to the '70s," says Feige. Soon after that, though, former Disney CEO Bob Iger approached Feige about producing content for the studio's forthcoming streaming service. "I think the notion that we had left this hanging loose end with Loki gave us the in for what a Loki series could be. So by the time [Endgame] came out, we did know where it was going."

As for Hiddleston, he didn't find out about the plans for a Loki show until spring 2018, a few weeks before Infinity War hit theaters. "I probably should not have been surprised, but I was," says the actor. "But only because Infinity War had felt so final."

Nevertheless, Hiddleston was excited about returning for his show. He was eager to explore Loki's powers, especially the shapeshifting, and what it meant that this disruptive figure still managed to find a seat beside the gods in mythology. "I love this idea [of] Loki's chaotic energy somehow being something we need. Even though, for all sorts of reasons, you don't know whether you can trust him. You don't know whether he's going to betray you. You don't why he's doing what he's doing," says Hiddleston. "If he's shapeshifting so often, does he even know who he is? And is he even interested in understanding who he is? Underneath all those masks, underneath the charm and the wit, which is kind of a defense anyway, does Loki have an authentic self? Is he introspective enough or brave enough to find out? I think all of those ideas are all in the series — ideas about identity, ideas about self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and the difficulty of it."

“The series will explore Loki's powers in a way they have not yet been explored, which is very, very exciting.”

The thing that truly sold Hiddleston on the show was Marvel's decision to include the Time Variance Authority, a move he describes as "the best idea that anybody had pertaining to the series." Feige and Loki executive producer Stephen Broussard had hoped to find a place for the TVA — an organization that debuted in 1986's Thor #372 and has appeared in She-Hulk and Fantastic Four stories — in the MCU for years, but the right opportunity never presented itself until Loki came along. "Putting Loki into his own procedural series became the eureka moment for the show," says Feige.  

The TVA's perspective on time and reality also tied into the themes that Waldron, Loki's head writer, was hoping to explore. "Loki is a character that's always reckoning with his own identity, and the TVA, by virtue of what they do, is uniquely suited to hold up a mirror to Loki and make him really confront who he is and who he was supposed to be," says Waldron. Hiddleston adds: "[That] was very exciting because in the other films, there was always something about Loki that was very controlled. He seemed to know exactly what the cards in his hand were and how he was going to play them…. And Loki versus the TVA is Loki out of control immediately, and in an environment in which he's completely behind the pace, out of his comfort zone, destabilized, and acting out."

To truly dig into who Loki is, the creative team had to learn from the man who knows him best: Hiddleston. "I got him to do a thing called Loki School when we first started," says director Kate Herron. "I asked him to basically talk through his 10 years of the MCU — from costumes to stunts, to emotionally how he felt in each movie. It was fantastic."

Hiddleston got something out of the Loki school, too. Owen Wilson both attended the class and interviewed Hiddleston afterward so that he could better understand Loki, as his character Mobius is supposed to be an expert on him. During their conversation, Wilson pointedly asked Hiddleston what he loved about playing the character.

"And I said, 'I think it's because he has so much range,'" says Hiddleston. "I remember saying this to him: 'On the 88 keys on the piano, he can play the twinkly light keys at the top. He can keep it witty and light, and he's the God of Mischief, but he can also go down to the other side and play the heavy keys. And he can play some really profound chords down there, which are about grief and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and jealousy and pride.'" Hiddleston recalls Wilson being moved by the description: "He said, 'I think I might say that in the show.' And it was such a brilliant insight for me into how open Owen is as an artist and a performer.'"

Everyone involved is particularly excited for audiences to see Hiddleston and Wilson's on-screen chemistry. "Mobius is not unlike Owen Wilson in that he's sort of nonplussed by the MCU," says Feige. "[Loki] is used to getting a reaction out of people, whether it's his brother or his father, or the other Avengers. He likes to be very flamboyant and theatrical. Mobius doesn't give him the reaction he's looking for. That leads to a very unique relationship that Loki's not used to."

As for the rest of the series, we know that Loki will be jumping around time and reality, but the creative team isn't keen on revealing when and where. "Every episode, we tried to take inspiration from different things," says Waldron, citing Blade Runner's noir aesthetic as one example.

"Part of the fun of the multiverse and playing with time is seeing other versions of characters, and other versions of the titular character in particular," says Feige, who also declined to confirm if Loki ties into Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and/or other upcoming projects.

Making Loki was especially meaningful to Hiddleston because they shot most of it during the pandemic, in late 2020. "It will remain one of the absolute most intense, most rewarding experiences of my life," he says. "It's a series about time, and the value of time, and what time is worth, and I suppose what the experience of being alive is worth. And I don't quite know yet, and maybe I don't have perspective on it, if all the thinking and the reflecting that we did during the lockdown ended up in the series. But in some way, it must have because everything we make is a snapshot of where we were in our lives at that time."

While it remains to be seen what the future holds for Loki beyond this initial season, Hiddleston isn't preparing to put the character to bed yet. "I'm open to everything," he says. "I have said goodbye to the character. I've said hello to the character. I said goodbye to the character [again]. I've learned not to make assumptions, I suppose. I'm just grateful that I'm still here, and there are still new roads to explore."

Additional reporting by Jessica Derschowitz

[thisisapaige]

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

(For Suptober20. Day 18 Prompt: Dark & Stormy Night. Word Count: 1645)

Phew. I made it. This is 1000% better than the first thing I tried to write. Let’s shelter from the storm together here, or over on Ao3! (it’s a link)

Sam said the case would be easy. Sam said there would be clear skies all day. Sam said splitting up would be fine.

Sam was a damn liar.

The rain came down in sheets. Dean couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. He knew Cas was beside him but he couldn't see him through the gloom. Thunder rumbled and Dean's voice was lost in the noise. The lightning flashed and Dean saw wet grass, an old crumbling cabin, and Cas reaching out to him. Cas's mouth moved. He must have said something but Dean had no idea what.

Then it was dark again.

Cas grabbed Dean's hand (at least, he sure as fuck hoped that was Cas) and Dean had no choice but to follow Cas's insistent pull. With some luck, Cas's angelic vision could get them somewhere safe.

A door slammed shut behind Dean. He knew they were in the cabin he glimpsed a moment ago. It wasn't much and Dean could hear the dripping of a leaky ceiling, but it did provide some cover from the rain and shelter from the wind.

The cabin muted the noise outside, just enough that Dean could hear Cas muttering under his breath. Cas's words sounded suspiciously like one of Dean's many colourful curses. Wow, Dean was a bad (good?) influence on the angel.

When Dean saw Cas in the next shock of lightning, he looked exactly how Dean felt. Cas's coat was sopping wet and heavy on his shoulders, his damp hair was flat against his head, and his shirt clung to his chest.

It was only for a second but, uh, Dean was pretty sure he saw a nipple. Maybe it was a good thing it was so dark. One quick glance at that and Dean forgot pretty much everything else.

"It wasn't supposed to rain today," Dean said. "Sam lied to me."

"No, he was correct." Cas placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him further into the cabin. "Neither Jack nor I sensed it. This was all very sudden. Almost…" Cas stopped. "Biblical."

"Biblical?" Dean groaned. "You're telling me Chuck sat down at his holy laptop or whatever and wrote 'it was a dark and stormy night' and then, boom, it was?"

"I believe so."

Dean groaned again, louder and with a little more dramatic flair. He used his hands to find the wall and leaned against it. "Yeah, but why? How does this fit into his grand narrative?"

"To lose the hunt, perhaps? In this rain, the werewolf's trail will be hard to find."

"I guess. What a dick. He could've at least wrote in a couple of towels for us." Dean saw Cas's amused expression in the next bout of lightning. It was gone before it was dark again. "I wonder if Sam and Jack are okay?"

"I'm sure they found shelter. They were closer to the motel."

Dean reached into his pocket, his jacket making a squelching noise when he reached for his phone. He knew already, but he tapped the screen anyway. Yep. Death by Biblical storm.

"You got a working phone?" Dean asked.

Cas checked, the glow of his screen casting his face in a pale unearthly glow. "No reception."

"Storm's probably got to the towers." Dean sighed and leaned his head back. "Guess we're stuck here."

Dean crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and listened to the rain pelting the roof. Now that Dean finally stopped, now that he had caught his breath and the adrenaline of a hunt had faded away, he shivered.

And Cas was right there, right in front of Dean in the next flash of light, close and concerned. "You're cold. Forgive me, I didn't think."

Before Cas could do his two-fingered all-purpose angel boop, Dean pushed his hand away. "I'm good."

"Wet clothes are not good for your health."

"I'll dry."

While he did back down, Cas's sigh told Dean he wasn't too happy about it. Whatever. Cas told Dean his grace was fading. There was no need to waste whatever power he had left on Dean.

"At least remove your jacket," Cas said.

Dean was about to refuse but the look on Cas's face when the lightning stuck made Dean reconsider. After a hard done by sigh (he did have a reputation to keep), Dean did as Cas asked. Dean peeled off his wet and clingy jacket, fighting to get the cuffs over his hands, but he managed to do it. The jacket hit the floor with a wet slap.

"Thank you," Cas said.

Something warm and dry fell over Dean's shoulders. Dean ran his fingers over the fabric, felt the buttons and lapels, and breathed deeply. He was surrounded by the smell of Cas.

"Uh, Cas? Is this your coat?"

"It's weather-resistant and will keep you warm." Cas's hands bushed Dean's jaw when he straightened the coat around Dean's shoulders. "You should rest. I'll watch over you."

Dean used to find that 'watch over you' thing kind of creepy but, after over a decade of shared experience, it kind of brought Dean comfort. He slid down the wall and sat on the hard wooden floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and totally didn't burrow into Cas's jacket (yeah he did because it was so warm and soft and nice), trying to relax. Cas sat beside Dean, their shoulders brushing against each other.

"Thanks," Dean said.

"Of course," Cas replied.

Together, they listened to the rain, listened to the wind shake the trees outside, and listened to the thunder roll in the distance. Between that and Cas's quiet breathing, steady and constant right beside him (always right beside him), Dean let himself give in to his exhaustion. He was safe. He knew he was safe with Cas watching over him. Dean rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes.

In a matter of moments, Dean was asleep.

⁂

The birds woke Dean up. They chirped their stupid little bird faces off at the arrival of the sun. Sheesh. For once, Dean was having one hell of a good sleep and a nice dream. Damn birds. What was so great about the sun, anyway?

Sure, Dean wasn't the most comfortable he'd been in his life, with the hard floor beneath him and the new crick in his neck, but there was a warm blanket over him (like being wrapped in hugs), a nice weight around his shoulders, and a sturdy pillow against his cheek. It was nice and the damn birds wouldn't shut up enough for Dean to continue enjoying it. Dean stirred.

"It's okay," a voice said from above Dean, as soft as a dream, "it's still early."

Dean tried to say something about the birds, but all that came out was a sleepy garbled mess.

"Of course, Dean," the voice said, a laugh hidden in the words. "I agree."

Dean opened his eyes and looked right at the sun.

Dean was starting to understand the birds.

Okay, it wasn't actually the sun but it was Cas, gazing down at Dean with a smile in his eyes, his hair a mess from the dried rainwater, and a halo of sunlight around his head from the nearby window. It was pretty much the same thing.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean said, his first coherent words since he woke up.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas replied.

Once Dean figured out that his blanket was Cas's coat, his nice weight was Cas's arm around him, and his pillow was Cas's shoulder, he considered freaking out. Dean hadn't woken up next to someone in a long time. This wasn't how he expected it to happen again but he sure wasn't about to complain.

Sometimes, Dean wondered what it would be like to wake up and have Cas there. He tried not to think about it too much. When he did, he felt this deep pull in his heart, this longing, and, without fail, Cas would send a message a few minutes later asking if Dean was okay. It was like Cas felt it.

None of Dean's daydreams compared to this, to the real thing.

Dean didn't freak out. It was the end of the world (again, again, again) and he deserved a moment like this, a moment of peace, a moment when he could just sit there, pressed against Cas, and not worry about it.

Dean burrowed further into Cas's shoulder. "Did I drool on you?"

"Only a little." Cas secured his grip around Dean's shoulders. "You were smiling in your sleep."

There was a time when Dean would have been weirded out by that. Now, though, Dean saw the little smile that accompanied Cas's words and found it sweet.

"Was I?" Dean yawned. "I was having a good dream."

"What were you dreaming about?"

Dean looked up at Cas, looked up at his halo of golden light, and remembered. "Sunshine."

"Sunshine?"

"Yeah. It was nice. Warm and safe. But then…" As Dean spoke, the hazy images in his mind became clear. "There was this shadow. It took my sunshine away."

Cas's hand gripped Dean's shoulder just a little too tightly. It relaxed right away, fast enough that Dean figured he imagined it.

"It was a good dream?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was because I got my sunshine back." Dean chuckled. "Huh. That sounds silly now that I said it out loud."

Cas didn't reply.

In a few moments, Dean would need to move. In a few moments, Dean would have to find a way to contact Sam and Jack. In a few moments, Dean would try to pick up the hunt again in hopes that the trail hadn't been washed away in the rain.

Right then, however, Dean sat beside Cas and watched the sunrise, watched as the dark and stormy night turned into a bright and sunny day.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

Do you have any fics where bakugou is disabled? Yalls blog is sooooo wonderful, and I love yall sooooo much. 😍😍😍😍😍😍💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Hey there! I’d like to note firstly that I’m able-bodied and I’m definitely not an expert on what is or isn’t a disability. I’ve tried to include all the physical and non-physical disabilities I could find. If I’ve been offensive or inconsiderate in any way here, please let me know.

- Jay

1 Series. 38 Works. 

Physical Disabilities 

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh( T |298,721+ | 18/? )

“We’re really sorry,” his father says, in a teary-eyed, wobbly way. “But your friend, Izuku, he’s… He’s gone, son.”

Katsuki can do nothing but blink up at them for moments that feel like an eternity, eyes darting between both his parents in obvious confusion, disbelief, and, more than anything, indignation.

“What the fuck are you two talking about? The damn nerd is standing right beside you!”

During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in his state is no one other than Kacchan.

Alternatively: Deku and Kacchan have their souls bound to each other.

[PTSD]

[On Hiatus] That’s That by Fif Sold Her Soul( T |26,079+ | 8/? )

After receiving a life-changing injury that leaves him unable to do any hero work, Bakugou does the best next thing to save face and hide his condition from the world; He becomes a teacher at U.A

Easy right?

Apart from dealing with his rambunctious homeroom class, the new and annoying as fuck generation of villains, his new protégé, and his crippling self-esteem issues, and his crush on fucking Deku, all while hiding his condition from the world, then yeah pretty easy. Not.

Bakugou suddenly has a fuckton respect for Aizawa.

[Abuse | Suicide Mention]

Missed Connections by Labellevita( M |9,765+ | 3/5 )

Deaf Uni student Bakugou can’t catch a break, but he does catch the scent of a fantastic smelling omega.

Dull by choimarie( G |714 | 1/1 )

day 2: your eyes

“What? Never have seen a hot dude before?”

SeriesPart 2 of Bakudeku week 2k18

Tired by igrewupwiththis( Not Rated |10,980 | 2/2 )

Bakugou is just so exhausted, and he needs someone who takes care of him. y'all already know who it is.

Let’s Start Over Again by BrightEyesEren( T |4,107 | 1/1 )

Ten years down the road. Izuku and Katsuki went their separate ways, living their own lives, until they meet again after a tragic turn of events.

Izuku realises how fragile fire actually is.

love is blind (and deaf) by kagehinataboke( T |789 | 1/1 )

Izuku hesitantly opens the door, wielding an umbrella and ready to square up against a mugger. but it’s only one of his neighbors: a new one, in fact. Izuku faintly recalls him moving in a few weeks ago, but one unfriendly glare was enough to stop him from approaching.

he discreetly drops the umbrella behind the door. “can i help you?”

— a bakudeku one-shot

Thought So by zuccin( G |771 | 1/1 )

Midoriya watches Katsuki walk away as he remember the sorrowful past. And he’s glad everything turned out in the end.

I guess… I’ll just… fuckin’ read this by TheGeekProblem( G |1,533 | 1/1 )

Izuku works the graveyard shift in a diner and he’s really tired. A group of people come at 2 a.m. What could go wrong?

Senses by Phayte( E |22,294+ | 6/? )

In a freak accident through battle, Bakugou loses his sight. This is the story of his struggle, downward spiral, and the friends that get him through it.

Everything Before Mourning by hollyandvice( M |15,527 | 1/1 )

“Whatever this is has got you running scared, Kacchan. If it’s got you scared, it’s got me terrified. So please, just… just tell me what’s going on.”

Kacchan runs a hand over his face, suddenly looking old and tired and nothing at all like what Izuku is used to. It makes the tension in Izuku’s chest go even tighter, as though trying to suffocate him. Izuku bites back the fear that wants to spill over his tongue and tries to just pay attention to Kacchan.

Whatever this is, they’re going to get through it together.

When a fight with a villain has longer-reaching consequences than Kacchan expected, he calls on Izuku to help him through. Izuku doesn’t quite know what that will entail, but he knows he won’t back down from this. Not from Kacchan. Not ever.

Am I Ready? by Ryxmas( G |6,226 | 1/1 )

Even after one and a half years after his disappearance, Izuku never really stopped thinking about Katsuki. After all, Katsuki always had a habit of barging into your life, even if you never expected it.

No Warning by DeafBakugou( G |10,375 | 1/1 )

Bakugou survives a natural disaster and has to navigate the world without the normal accommodations he depends on as a Deaf individual.

Finding Out and Confessions by Needle_In_A_NeedleStack( G | 605 | 1/1 )

Bakugo is deaf, that’s why he’s always so loud. He hasn’t told anyone. So when Midoriya Izuku accidentally finds out Bakugo’s secret, how will things change.

Lost The Fight by Katt1848( T |1,733 | 1/1 )

Every Hero remembers the first time they weren’t able to save someone. This is Katsuki’s.

transfigured night by bittermoons( M |6,044 | 1/1 )

An unexpected hospital trip changes things between Izuku Midoriya, age forty-four, and his longtime roommate, co-parent, and co-composer, Katsuki Bakugou.

Migraines and Emotional Pains by Leonidas1754( G | 1,212 | 1/1 )

Bakugo gets migraines often, resulting in going home early and Midoriya taking care of him. Said migraines also often result in thinking too much about himself and Midoriya, and how much he simply doesn’t deserve Midoriya’s love. Thankfully, Midoriya still knows how to handle him.

[Abandoned] An Internship by Aizawa_mf_Shouta, Qnonymous( Not Rated |2,954 | 6/? )

Bakugou isn’t happy, and it only gets worse.

hole in the wall by imanimoon( M |1,214+ | 1/? )

The camera’s perspective shook as the holder zoomed in on the hero. Maybe they were hoping to catch the moment in which Zero would pull himself to his feet with gritted teeth and then, in a vicious roar, promise the demise of his opponent before seeing to it. As he always did.But he’d barely moved a muscle.The sound crackled on as someone yelled out to the hero before cutting off right after.“Why isn’t he moving?”What seemed like hours could only have been mere minutes before the camera caught someone’s faint whisper, their voice coated in trembling disbelief, “I-I don’t think he can.”

It’d been years since Japan had experienced a tragedy of this magnitude. Some even called it “The Leveling,” villains unleashing havoc around the city leaving hundreds of civilians dead, numerous buildings grounded, and even heroes brought to their knees.

When Bakugou awakens in a hospital without the ability to walk, he believes his life is over. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to retain his number one hero status as a “cripple”. It isn’t until his childhood friend re-enters his life and shows him firsthand that Pro-Heroes aren’t the only ones who can save people.

[Ableism | PTSD]

Champion by DirtyDeku( M |575 | 1/1 )

Hiya!! This is based on a few roleplays I’ve had with my dear friend!! I hope you all enjoy it.

[Rape/Non-Con]

Non-Physical Disabilities

[Series] Schizophrenic Bakugou by masteremeraldholder( T |22,496 | 3 Works | Complete )

In which, Bakugou Katsuki has schizophrenia, and how he deals with it in everyday life.

[Suicide Attempt | Self Harm | Panic Attacks | Ableism]

Longing for Clarity by sushisama( E |106,663+ | 16/23 )

Slice of life AU. Check notes in first chapter for more specific details.Katsuki is in his senior year, and though he’s dealing his own questionable mental condition, he can’t help the excitement of the upcoming graduation. But his boyfriend, Izuku, has been acting strange, being almost a little too intimate. They come to find out that Izuku is going through the fermin, a predicament certain Quirk holders go through. Now Katsuki is being forced into considering relinquishing the secrecy of their relationship, if only to keep all he wandering eyes from Izuku.

SeriesPart 1 of Fermin Story

And You Got To Me by hopeboiwonder( M |17,547 | 4/4 )

Katsuki’s need to immerse himself in something that wasn’t his new day in day out routine of working and sleeping leads him to discover a coffee shop in the middle of the night. Cafe Yagi.

Izuku’s hair billows and bunches, chasing after him like a salty, green ocean wave; churning up crests of bright shimmer from the light above. His eyes brown bowls speckled with rich golden rings around his pupils; and remind him of the thin film of crema on top of a freshly pulled espresso shot…

Needless to say, coffee hasn’t left his mind since.

Crash by Storyofanotakuslife( T |2,089 | 1/1 )

Bad days aren’t unusual for Katsuki, he’s learned to handle them the best he can. Which usually means alone. But bipolar doesn’t care about your feelings, and for once he’s actually willing to accept some outside help.

(Can be read as platonic or romantic bakudeku)

Izuku’s Home for Wayward Pets by glamour_weeb( E |50,436+ | 11/? )

Izuku works at the Bureau of Companion Protection as a rehabilitator for abused and abandoned Companions, animal-human hybrids. He’s seen his fair share of cruelty cases and even fostered a few Companions, but he’s never had a Companion of his own, until now. After rescuing Katsuki from a life in an illegal, underground Companion fighting ring, Izuku must take in the wolfdog that no one else can handle.

Eventually, Katsuki comes to love his new home, as well as his new Master.

[PTSD | Past Abuse]

be loved by bonnia( T |5,403 | 1/1 )

They sit there, in the darkness of the common room, about a few centimeters between them, but miles apart. Somehow, the quiet is companionable. More than it has been in many years. Katsuki knows he’s responsible for the rift between them, and he knows even more that it can’t only be Deku who attempts to mend it.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, and Deku turns to him in question, but Katsuki refuses to look his way. “Touch me again.”

(or: the kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands)

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

new eyes by WabiSabi( T |56,645+ | 16/? )

Katsuki wakes up 22 years in the past.

With no other choice, he moves on.

(Or where Katsuki tries to mind his own business and fails spectacularly because he can´t stand people pissing over those who gained his respect. Even Deku. Especially Deku.)

SeriesPart 1 of Decrescente

[PTSD]

The Absolute Truth by Glon_Morski ( E |67,078 | 5/5 )

“What words did you say, exactly? Share with us. Show us how much of a monster you really are, Ground Zero.”

I told him…

‘Shut up!’

…that I have a time saving idea for him…

‘Shut up!’

…that if he wants to have a quirk that badly…

‘Shut the fuck up!!!’

…he should take a swan dive off a roof and hope for a quirk in his next life

The pain blooms on his throat this time as the characters that write the answer carve themselves into his skin. It doesn’t feel like a scalpel cutting through his skin this time. Nor does it feel like his skin is breaking on its own after being stretched too thin. Instead, the experience is akin to having his throat literally shredded, as if a million of tiny, jagged claws or teeth are digging into his flesh and pulling at it to brand him with the words.

This time, Katsuki screams.

A.K.A In which Katsuki is captured by villains who want to expose him as a ‘false hero’ (as per Stain’s ideology) and use a truth serum-like quirk to do it.

Mind the tags.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD | Panic Attacks]

[On Hiatus] You Were October Nights by AlchemyandHeroAnalysis( E |27,728+ | 4/? )

Across the locker room, tucked into the small corner of the wall separating the changing room and the showers, sat the Bakugou Katsuki with his knees drawn up to his chest and his head tucked in his arms. If Izuku hadn’t heard him, he probably would never have seen him to begin with. But he could. He could see and hear everything.

Please, don’t be real.

His gut twisted painfully as Katsuki’s broken sobs echoed against the concrete walls. His entire body shook with each desperate wail that escaped him. It sounded as though he was in complete and utter agony, painfully vulnerable and without any remote sign of stopping.

Summary:Izuku stumbles upon an emotionally distraught Katsuki in the agency locker room and is horrified by what he sees. What could have possibly happened to make his childhood friend this … broken?

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD | Abuse | Self Harm | Addiction]

I Could Never Know A World Without You. by Kasplode( M |45,800+ | 9/? )

“Stay back, Deku.”

Izuku doesn’t listen. That decision leads to his death.

In a twist of fate that entwines him irrevocably with Katsuki, it turns out their time together isn’t over yet.

(OR: the bodysharing wonder duo AU where Izuku is kidnapped along with Katsuki, and the combination of unprecedented quirks leads to unexpected results.)

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD | Panic Attacks | Dissociation | Abuse]

Letting Go is the Ruffest Thing by SurelyHeavenWaits( T |5,541 | 1/1 )

For Bakugou Katsuki, storms bring change and never the good kind. Those howling winds and driving droplets of rain spell the end of an era for him, every single time.

Until this storm.

This storm brings Deku.

[PTSD]

[On Hiatus] Lost and found by Sad_Pawn( T |12,329+ | 6/? )

Katsuki is finally back after being taken by the League of Villains. However, he seems to have lost an important piece of himself. Can he recover without it?

Midoriya is so relieved that Kacchan is back and safe. But when he visits him, he immediately notices something is terribly, terribly wrong. Can he help restore his childhood friend's hope?

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

Fix Me by goateyes( E | 8,901+ | 3/? )

After an important mission goes south Bakugo finds himself in the hospital suffering from a severe injury. His agency forces him to go to physical therapy where he meets his therapist Midoriya, love (and chaos) ensues.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | PTSD]

ghostin' by chaoticheroes( G |1,583 | 1/1 )

“I’m proud of you.”

“You’ve said that already, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I am. Proud of you, that is.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and tries to turn his head away but Izuku presses his hand to his cheek, forcing their eyes to meet. Izuku can’t see clearly but if he could, he knows Katsuki would be matching him with the same intensity that he’s known for. “I have every right to be proud of you. I love you. You having issues that are a little bigger than the both of us changes absolutely none of that, Kacchan.”

[PTSD]

The Bonds that bind by EloFromMars( E | 2,818 | 1/1 )

Izuku is excited, tonight is their anniversary. He had planned everything. Or so he thought.

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

[On Hiatus] Routine by strawberryflavoring( M |1,714+ | 1/? )

Bakugou isn't good at handling himself, and Deku's been too busy to see him getting worse. So, as you'd probably expect, Bakugou flips shit.

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD | Self Harm]

[akaspiderman]

all too well

parinig: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: idk man it’s kinda sad

plot: After Draco leaves without reasoning during their sixth year, (y/n) has to deal with the effects of their broken relationship // based on the song all too well by taylor swift

A/N: here’s a random draco fic i found in my drafts. this will probably be my last harry potter fic for a while. // part of the red collection + goes well with i almost do

She breathes in the fresh air, she had to get away. When (y/n) walked into the Great Hall, she saw him. Draco. It’s been months since he broke it off without reason, but it still felt like a fresh wound that refused to heal. She was doing better but seeing Pansy all over him ripped it open. His friends were all laughing, but he wasn’t. He was picking at his plate while Pansy used him for support, her hands roaming him. He must’ve felt (y/n)’s gaze, because he turned around to see her.

She couldn’t handle it. Which was undeniably stupid, they were over. But it was an act of betrayal to her. So she fled. she ran off into the freezing winter weather, she just needed to clear her head. Seeing Draco sent her down her usual spiral, where her heart aches for something she can’t have. She tries so hard to pretend she way okay, but she wasn’t fine at all.

She was chilly, after all it was dead of winter. Her hand reaches up to touch her neck, she never got her scarf back. She lent it to Draco when they went to Hogsmede last year. Draco tried to act all big and tough, saying he wouldn’t get cold. Later on, he was freezing, but he would only accept the scarf, no coat or anything. So her beloved scarf was gone, never to be seen again, but she didn’t mind. She saw it peeking out of his trunk once. Draco didn’t even bother to give it back after the breakup.

Her mind wanders off, thinking about what they had. She thinks about before she gave the scarf away, that during the train ride to Hogwarts their fifth year. How he unraveled the scarf off of her. He insisted that it was too hot for a scarf and that she was crazy for using it already. She remembers how they were laughing so hard that day. Draco kept on making remarks about how his parents kept dragging him around and how it was dreadful. He made fun of everyone he met during their meetings. She thinks about her leaning on Draco for support, and how he fell asleep on her. That day was so crisp in her memeory, how perfect it seemed.

She thinks about the train ride to Draco’s house, how she went during holiday break one year. Maybe she wasn’t exactly welcomed by Lucius, but Narcissa seemed to adore her. She showed (y/n) portraits of Draco when he was younger. His face lit up in embarrassment as he tried to hide them, but it was adorable. He kept talking about the backstories to all of them too. Narcissa kept talking about how she loved that Draco was on the quidditch team and how well the season was. She talked and talked about Draco, but not in bragging way. She was beaming with pride, and she kept insisting to be called Narcissa.

Later that night, (y/n) ran into Draco downstairs. She was trying to get a drink, and Draco decided to at the same time. He said that Narcissa loved her and how he makes her so happy. How he wants to live here with (y/n) after graduation. (y/n) laughed saying that she wouldn’t know what to do with all of the rooms in the manor. Draco shrugged and embraced her from the back while she walked towards the stairs. He twirled her around, kissing her, before they made the trek up the stairs.

It was amazing that these memories were so clear. It was so odd to think that they talked about the future so easily, like they already knew they would end up together. That’s what made (y/n) hurt, that she had something so beautiful, it had to be rare.

She didn’t know where they went wrong. Maybe she should have visited him over the summer, but their schedules never lined up. Whenever she was free, Draco was at some meetings with his parents. Maybe she should have been more protective of him whenever Pansy made a flirtatious joke. She should’ve tried more to keep their relationship on the right track.

Or maybe it wasn’t her fault. There seemed no logical reason on her end why it would end so suddenly. It could all be Draco, they were so happy and the he goes to end it. They fell in love so quickly and fast, they worked so well together. Sparks flew when they were together. Then he ends it, he ends this masterpiece of a relationship.

(y/n) can’t seem to find why he would do it. He always told her that she was the best thing that ever happened to him. How she kept him from going crazy when his home life was going haywire. (y/n) dosen’t understand why he would throw it all away, so quickly if she meant that much to him. He meant that much, maybe even more to her. He could have been lying the whole entire.

She doubts that idea, it felt too real to be fake. All the memories she has with him, they seemed so happy. She couldn’t make herself believe they were fake, they can’t be fake. It would be stabbing a knife through her heart. She was the happiest with him, that she knows. She refues to believe in the slight suggestion of it being faux.

She keeps walking, trying to calm herself down. She knows that this is how it always starts, how she ends up crying for days, her heart hurting like when they first broke up. It always starts with here reminiscing in the past.

“(y/n), are you alright?” It comes from behind her, the voice belonging to Neville.

God, she had no idea why Draco never liked him. Neville was always so pure, he couldn’t hurt a soul. Her friendship with him suffered when she started to get closer with Draco, but she always kept in touch. Always defended him when Draco jokes about him. It was kind of sad how (y/n) misses that rude part of Draco. She had to truly love him to miss the bad parts.

It must be written on her face that she wasn’t alright, because Neville sighs, “You have to stop thinking about him. It’s been months.”

“I’m trying,” it comes out barely above a whisper.

“You can’t mope about it forever.”

He was right. She can’t get all hurt when she sees him, she can’t keep reminiscing in her old memories. She had to get back to who she was without him. Time won’t fly though, her mind is still frozen on what they had.

“Hey,” Neville softens his voice, “you’re getting through it though. You’re doing better.”

He was right again. At first, every time she saw Draco she would spiral down. Her heart just aches the littlest bit when she sees him now. She tries to talk to him at times, even casually. She did have a few breakdowns where he walks away, but now she’s gotten better at talking to him normally. Like they never had anything. It was always small talk, and he was always the one who walked away.

“I know, it was just different seeing Pansy all over him,” (y/n) replies.

“Go back to the Great Hall, they have you’re favorite type of cookie for dessert.”

(y/n) takes a deep breath. She can do this, she can walk in there and pretend that she’s doing good. She is doing good, she’s doing better than him. He’s the one who can’t even talk about the weather with her.

As she walks in, she sees him again. Pansy wasn’t over him, he was sitting straight up. He caught her eye, and she offers a smile. In return, Draco does the weakest smile that he could ever muster up and turns back to his food.

She wishes she didn’t remember everything all too well, it would be so easy to let him go. Though she keeps trying to convince herself that it’s a lost cause, she still has the littlest hope. Her vivid recollection of every moment didn’t help extinguish her hope. But everything will work out, she knows it.

[charbear177]

The Writer and the Billionaire: A Novel

Searching for your next summer read? Look no further than my new novel The Writer and the Billionaire.

The Writer and the Billionaire is the story of Sascha Gills, a newly divorced writer whose life changes forever when she is swept off her feet by the charming, handsome, and spectacularly rich Devon Montague. But it’s not all smooth sailing—and someone from Sascha’s past seems determined to keep it that way. As Sascha and Devon’s relationship is tested by struggle and heartbreak, can they persist and ultimately triumph in love?

Here is your sneak peek!

Chapter 1

 Sascha sat staring at the paper she had just signed. Her marriage was officially over! She had not been single in over eleven years, but six months ago she’d woken one morning and realized that she was not happy and had not been for the last five years. She did not want to be married to Lucas anymore. She needed a fresh start.

Lucas had been her college sweetheart and at the time seemed to be her soul mate. Thinking back on her naivete made Sascha giggle slightly, feeling a little silly for even believing in soul mates.

Hearing her giggle, her husband and his lawyer looked up at her from across the table. In an irritated tone, her now ex-husband said, “Is there something about this that you find amusing?”

His voice snapped her from her thoughts and wiped the little smile from her face. Her first impulse was to say that she didn’t find anything funny, but after a second thought, she decided not to bite her tongue any further.

“You know, actually I do find something funny. I find it funny that I ever thought this pathetic excuse for a marriage could have lasted. And even funnier than that is the fact that I let a sorry excuse for a man like you make me feel bad about myself for so long. The truth of the matter is that I deserved better than you, and you know it.”

“Oh, please, get off your high horse. You weren’t exactly the most loving, supportive wife. I am the one that deserves better,” he responded, not surprisingly.

Sascha rolled her eyes and looked down at her vibrating cell phone. A no-caller-ID caller again. She reminded herself that she really needed to get a new phone number.

Handing the papers back to her lawyer, Sascha stood up and said her final words to Lucas. “When are you going to stop blaming others for your failures? You know what? Don’t bother answering that. I can say that I am done being your excuse for never succeeding. I truly hope that someday you find your way and can become the man that you have always wanted to be.”

When Sascha walked out of that conference room, she felt as if a weight had been lifted. Sure, she was thirty-four, almost thirty-five actually, and was starting over, but she wasn’t scared. She was excited, in fact. To be honest, she had not felt this type of exhilaration since her college volleyball days. Sascha had once been one of the country’s top volleyball players and could have gone pro, but instead, she chose a simpler life with Lucas. After graduating from the University of Southern California’s MBA program, Lucas and Sascha both got jobs with financial firms and moved to San Francisco to start their lives together.

Sascha had grown up in a middle-class area in a Northern California town and was happy to be somewhat close to her family again. She thought that Lucas was happy too, but nothing ever seemed to make him happy. Not his job, not their sex life, and certainly not his wife. While Sascha had quickly found success at her investment firm, Lucas seemed to have trouble holding a job. He always quit or was fired for one reason or another. Of course, it was never his fault. His bosses were always jerks who picked on him, or Sascha was putting too much pressure on him or not supporting him. Never were his troubles his own doing—not his bad attitude, and certainly not his lack of competence.

When he began to become depressed, Sascha did everything she could to get him out of his slump. Nothing worked, and of course he refused counseling at that time, both individual counseling for himself and marriage counseling for the both of them.

One day Sascha went to him with an idea that she thought would solve all their problems. She suggested that they open up an investment firm. She had a wonderful client roster, many of whom she was sure would more than happily follow her if she left her current powerhouse firm of Chase & Sanders.

To Sascha’s surprise, Lucas was immediately receptive to the idea, and they quickly got to work on this new venture. At first it seemed like Lucas was truly happy with her and things were getting better, but that was just wishful thinking on her part.

They rented a small office in a downtown building with a monthly rent that was more than twice their monthly mortgage, but Sascha wanted—no, needed—to believe it would pay off and be worth it in the long run. Fortunately, Sascha had been able to put away quite the little nest egg thanks to large commissions she had received at her old job, but she was still a little concerned about leaving her safety net at Chase & Sanders. Despite her concerns, she knew she needed to do this for Lucas, and for the sake of their marriage.

She had been right about many of her clients choosing to follow her, but it was not long before she saw what many of Lucas’s previous bosses had seen. He gave his clients the worst financial advice, encouraging them to make risky, damn near irresponsible investment decisions, even causing one of their clients to lose more than $5 million in one week.

In a matter of six months, Lucas had ruined their business and destroyed Sascha’s reputation as a financial adviser. They had gone through all their savings and had gotten into horrible financial debt. They were close to losing their home when Michael, an old friend of Sascha’s from college, helped them out, unbeknownst to Lucas, who would have flat out refused the help. Sascha felt a little guilty about keeping Michael’s aid from Lucas, but she had already lost so much because of his poor judgment she refused to lose anything else, especially her home.

Michael Ghant had made it big in the software and tech business. He offered Sascha a job as a CFO at his company and a generous starting bonus, which more than caught them up on their mortgage and other delinquent bills. It was shocking and disappointing to Sascha that Lucas, with his education and training, was so completely oblivious to his financial problems. And sadly, worse than him being oblivious was that maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

When Sascha began working for Michael, he made his feelings for her very clear, and she made it very clear to him that she would honor her marriage vows. Being the gentleman that he was, Michael accepted her rejection graciously but made it known to her that he felt she deserved so much more than an unhappy marriage to a selfish, cruel man.

During the course of her marriage, Sascha had gained over fifty pounds and lost all her self-confidence. Once upon a time, she had been a confident, athletic, smart, attractive woman, but Lucas had taken all of that away. As the pounds came on, so did his insults and his reasoning for being unfaithful. As far as she knew, he had been unfaithful at least twice during their marriage, but deep down she knew there had been other infidelities. Just like the cliché, the first woman was a twentysomething girl named Rebecca who was a secretary at a financial firm Lucas once worked for. He told Sascha that it only happened a couple of times and that it meant nothing. Sascha, wanting to believe him, forgave him quickly and foolishly commended him for his honesty, even though there was unlikely an honest bone in his body.

The second affair that came to Sascha’s attention was not so easily forgiven. After years of fighting to make their marriage work, Sascha decided that they needed marriage counseling. At first Lucas refused, but Sascha told him that if they didn’t get help soon, she could not see them staying married. He actually looked fearful at that statement. At the time, Sascha believed that look was about fear of losing her, but later she realized that it had likely been more about losing his cash cow.

Sascha decided to seek the counseling services of a college pal of hers, a woman by the name of Gina Campbell. Gina was very attractive, with her petite frame, long black hair, and olive skin. Standing next to Gina’s five-foot-two frame, Sascha felt like an extremely insecure giant.

Apparently, Gina had never married, which was surprising to Sascha, considering all the boy drama she’d always had in college. Gina was the girl who always had to have a boyfriend—yours or her own, it didn’t matter. She was the girl who had no qualms about sleeping with someone else’s guy and stealing your man. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the challenge.

Of course, Gina’s behavior caused many problems with the other girls in their group and on campus, but Sascha always felt sorry for her. For someone to behave the way Gina did, she must have been terribly insecure and sad inside. Plus, Sascha didn’t feel threatened by Gina. Try as she might—and she tried hard—Gina just couldn’t steal Sascha’s boyfriend Colin.

Colin was Sascha’s college boyfriend before Lucas, whom was tragically killed during his and Sascha’s junior year, by a hit-and-run driver. Sascha was heartbroken by his death but eventually moved on when she met Lucas. Colin had been such a kindhearted, sweet guy. The loss of Colin changed everyone in their circle of friends.

Fast-forward ten years, and Gina Campbell was now a well-respected marriage counselor, with multiple best-selling relationship books and a sex advice podcast. Even though Sascha and Gina had had their ups and downs in college—some might even have called them frenemies—over the years they had gotten along well. Well, well enough.

At first when Lucas and Sascha started their counseling sessions with Gina, Sascha saw immediate results. She believed they were communicating better and had even started to be intimate again after a near six-month dry spell. But sadly, the feelings of a new and improved marriage would be short lived. It was not long before she realized that Lucas was cheating again. When she first confronted Lucas, he denied it and tried to turn everything around on her. She eventually dropped it and went to bed as he stormed out, but her gut was telling her that he was lying and cheating once again.

The following morning, she woke up to Lucas’s snoring next to her in bed. The bastard had sneaked back in at some point in the night. The sun was on his face, and as she looked at him, all she felt was disgust—disgust with herself. How could she have stayed married so long to this creep? she wondered. Looking at him made her realize that she did not love him anymore and had not for a very long time. She got up, got dressed, and went and found herself a divorce lawyer that day.

After hiring the best lawyer her money could buy, she quit her job because she knew that Lucas would try to milk her for spousal support, and she refused to give that lazy, no-good bastard another dime of her money. Let his mistress take care of him!

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[foodbytesback]

DJ Khaled's New Restaurant Venture Misses the Mark in One Major Way

It’s been a while since the restaurant industry proper pulled some legitimately insane bullshit. Or maybe I’ve just become desensitized to it all.  Even the revelation that GarfieldEats- the Garfield-themed lasagna delivery service whose mere existence gave me the final push to start writing this blog in the first place- had shriveled up and died, and its deranged founder, Nathan Mazri, took the money, ran, and tried to do the whole thing over again, but Scooby Doo themed was so blase I didn’t even consider it noteworthy enough for a write-up-of-the-week.  

But now, there’s yet another weirdly-themed ghost kitchen/delivery service hitting the market.  That’s right- another one.

(Get it? I said the thing! You read the title, surely you knew it was gonna happen.) 

Yup, throwing his hat into the ring alongside talking-cartoon-animal-fanatic Mazri is none other than DJ Khaled, for some reason. 

I can’t say I’m particularly familiar with Mr. Khaled’s music.  (Luckily for me, he yells his name at the beginning of all the songs he produces.)  I’m a little more familiar with his Snapchat videos and semi-memetic catchphrases- including the one that lends itself to the venture’s title- Another Wing. 

Another Wing is being boasted as being the most ambitious restaurant launches in history, with 150 ghost kitchens simultaneously opening across the U.S., U.K., Canada, France, and the United Arab Emirates.  This massive rollout is being managed by Reef Technologies, who according to every article on Another Wing is a ghost kitchen management group, but according to their website also dabbles in health care and parking lots.  Their last food-celebrity collab was with Mr. Beast, a person who I refuse to learn anything about.  

Everything about the menu seems to be very much in line with what little I know about DJ Khaled’s personality.  The wing sauce flavors they’ve chosen (Buffalo, Nashville Hot, Honey Sriracha, etc) are all crowd-pleasers- bold enough to stand on their own, but nothing too alienating.  Oh, and each one has an over-the top, goofy as hell name that one would expect from the guy that yells “LIONS” every time he walks by his weird lion statues (My personal favorite is “They Don’t Want You to Win Truffalo,” because yes, as a known hater of truffle hot sauces, I do not want them to win.).  Also, they have waffle fries, which always seems like one of those little touches that adds a level of bougie-ness without pretentiousness that I would expect from the often-plain-T-shirt-clad mogul.  Most importantly of all, they are also boasting that seafaring customers in the Miami area will be able to have their orders delivered to their boats via jetski.  

But even after all that, there’s one big opportunity that I feel like they’ve missed out on.

There’s no DJ Salad.

Now, again, I understand why that is.  DJ Khaled doesn’t look or act like a man that eats much salad.  On a menu consisting entirely of fried foods (ok, there are also chocolate chip cookies, those are (probably) not fried), a salad feels like it would go against everything they stand for.  

And what would even go in it?  Considered googling “does DJ Khaled eat salad” gave few relevant results, we may never know for sure.  Kale? A DJ Kale-ed, if you will? I did happen to find a pic of him pouring champagne on fruit salad, perhaps that’s it.

Or, perhaps the answer lies in one of DJ Khaled’s favorite foods: maqluba.  While the meat, rice, and vegetable dish has more to do with a paella than a salad, I believe that most of those vegetables and spices could lend themselves to another Levantine dish: tabbouleh.  And, perhaps most importantly of all, tabbouleh can be pre-packaged and distributed to their 150 locations much more easily than a leafy-green-based salad.  And perhaps that same lack of leafy greens is exactly why a tabbouleh would make the perfect DJ Salad.

Regardless of salad offerings, also suspiciously missing from the menu is one thing that DJ Khaled has notoriously gone on the record as refusing to eat: pussy.

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

The Librarians S4Ep11 liveblog

spoilers, babbling and “omfg i’m not ready” ahead

I’m not ready. For realsies.

omg stone and cal play chess together <3 my heart!

eve is talking to her mum <3 she has a mum <3 she’s interacting with the mum she has <3

nooooo don’t collapse

mini tethering i’m screaming!

is the script the answer to all our problems? or will it create the problem because cassie is so tempted to open it?

the what of the what now?

woah omg it’s so pretty!

but omg we still have an ep next week so it can’t all happen in this ep or can it?

and she’s opening it

ah it’s causing the problem. oh cass what have you done

dafuq just happened?? please tell me it wasn’t flynn who grabbed jenkins

oh come on guys basic rule never touch the red button

i love you all, buut you idiots!!

ray watcha doin, RAY WATCHA DOIN!

ugh custodian still sounds stupid

oh so it’s really because they haven’t tethered yet?

(so basically the library is becoming an archive XD)

ugh spiders

oh beybeys how cute (but it will change so now the nightmare thing has me anxious)

omfg is that cassie’s goth phase???

omg the witchy promo thing is stones nightmare i’m sooo curious!

dafuq stone bae what happened?

oh no cassie beybey =( ( i adore the outfit though btw) but nooo bae =(

ah he’s clearly afraid of tattoos XD (but dayum)

who’s the guy with the lector mask? (he looks a bit like stone though even though you can’t see his face)

but I love the library I don’t wnat to dislike it =(

boy what happened on that school trip

is that witch cassie? like do the others play important roles in the nightmare of the other in order to rally them up against each other?

this tattoo looks so much cooler that the other one

yes the library is always kind who is that what is going on gosh this ep stresses me out

ezekiel looks good with piercings!

haha i knew it crazy lector guy is stone with long hair XD

that is so horrible like the one ep in merlin where morgana made gwen insane

cassie looks good in aviator glasses

excuse me teasing youth stone but what is your face?

oh no no i hope my mind goes in the wrong direction regarding this school trip. but what if and now they. oh god no

oh okay eating a slug that is horrible but at least my mind wasn’t right

btw funny how in s3ep9 cassie and ezekiel had the omfg best outfits, and now again

this is so sick and twisted it makes me so angry

this can’t be the library I refuse to believe that!

jake hon you are a drama queen

omg plot twist it’s her nightmare clever eve <3

if i saw it right than those were two different stunt doubles for ezekiel XD

omg mama baird here to save the day!

dafuq cassie you can’t ask him that noooo =( =( =( (also yay for you casskins shipper)

omg they would choose stone ;_;

i love eve so much this season <3

is it really jenkins though`?

aww hugging <3

librarians together librarians forever ;_; ;_;

(omg this would be so the motto for me and my girls)

it’s flynn isn’t it?

oh nooo it’s the harness thing!

nooo jenkins!!!!!

no no no no this isn’t happening! there has to be anothe rway there is always another way! (despite it would be extremely lazy writing to make him mortal in order to kill him off)

we have 8 minute sleft this can#t happen

no way this can’t be the funeral!

earlier today i told a colleague how i wished to see jake in a shirt and waiscoat without a jacket on top and now it’s happening and i’m just like noooo jenkins!

also dude couldn’t you pick something black like every one else?

so did the library kill jenkins wa sit really ray?

if yes I don’t want any of this!

woah lindy does some powerful acting

i don’t want to not trust the library but right now I feel with them so

what if in the end nicole was really evil and behind all it? and all of this was a sick plot?

eve beybey

dafuq nicole is there!

oh dang i was right

okay i still refus eto believe that he is gone

and i knew something was fishy about that rasputin thing

and i’m so sorry that i ever doubted jenkins

oh no and now we all doubted the library

let’s clap everybody i still believe in the library

omg omg omg i was right she kindnapped him!!!

oh boy

[feynites]

Spider-mind

So the Sense8 crossover thread might have inspired a fic… (tweaked a little bit of how lyrium worked for Reasons).   TW for canon-typical non-con elements and substance abuse.

Hope you enjoy! *pushes fic forward shyly before running away like a very mature and reasonable adult*

Also on  AO3

Cullen is eight years old and he already knows he wants to be a Templar.  His aunt is telling his parents of a group of sensates put down by Templars from the Circle two towns over just the other week.  The word sends a chill equal parts fear and excitement up his spine.

Sensates.  Spider-minds. Mages so powerful and far from the Maker’s path that they can corrupt the minds of normal people, even across long distances.

Apparently, one had gotten to some poor noblewoman or another - Cullen doesn’t recognize her name - and she’d gone mad, started talking to herself.  She had been so far gone that she wouldn’t even give up the others, no matter how many times she was asked.

“Is this really an appropriate topic for dinner?” his mother asks, glancing in his direction. “There are children present.”

Cullen is deeply offended by this.  He’s almost ten.  Well, almost nine, which is almost ten.

“He’s got to hear of these things sooner or later.” Cullen heartily agrees. “Maker knows these people don’t have similar compunctions about children.  They’ll latch on to anyone.”

Cullen thinks of someone doing something so terrible to his mother or his sister or his new puppy and he knows that he wants to be the one who protects them, who protects everyone.

“Such a shame they had to put her down, but once something is tainted by magic the stain can never truly be washed clean.”

~

Cullen is sixteen and a half and there’s at least one person he’s sure hasn’t been tainted by magic.  She’s pretty and smart and smiles at him even though he apparently forgets how to speak every time he’s within four feet of her.  He knows nothing can come of it, but he wants to do little things for her - bring her flowers and books and other bits from the outside world.  He questions the Circles for the first time, wondering why someone like her should be locked away from everyone else.

~

He’s eighteen and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so betrayed.  She’d made him question, tempted him to stray from the light of Andraste and the whole time she’d been a fucking spider-mind.  She’d conspired to help a malefecar escape, all because they were part of the same sick, tangled web.  He feels sick.

~

He’s nineteen and his friends are dead and his aunt was right.  He feels sick, but he doesn’t think it’s from the rocking of the ship bringing him to Kirkwall.

~

He’s twenty-four and there is something wrong with this city.  Most places will only have to deal with sensates once every decade or so, but he and Meredith have had to track down three separate webs in the past few months.  

The last member of the latest web is Smited at his feet, sobbing, alternating between begging with him and cursing him.  She glares up at him, eyes wild and braids askew and he’s reminded of shy smiles and teasing laughter.

He runs her through in one swift motion.

~

He’s twenty-seven and Meredith is starting to worry him a bit.  She’s gotten it into her head that the bloody Champion is a spider-mind.

“How else would you explain that fight?  No one is that well versed in that many different fighting styles with that many different weapons.”

But that can’t be true, can it?  The Champion had saved them.  Sensates use their powers to corrupt and control and…

He pushes the thought aside and resumes his duties and doesn’t bother to think about what methods Meredith might be investigating to “deal with the problem.”

~

Cullen is twenty-eight and he wakes up in a room that isn’t his.  It’s small and sparse and when he goes to open the door it seems to be locked from the outside.

That doesn’t stop him from trying a few more times, throwing his wait against the door.

A small window on the door slides open with a snap and a grumpy-looking Templar peers in.  “You gotta piss or something? Use the chamber pot like everyone else.”

The window snaps shut before he can respond or ask what in the Void is going on.  

“You’re new,” a female voice says to his right.

He whirls in her direction.  She’s smirking at him, arms crossed over her chest - which is rather fortunate because she’s only wearing a night shift.

“I know this is a bit disconcerting, but, in the future, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cause quite so much of a fuss.  Last thing we need is too many Templars looking our way. Or, well, my way.”

What?

“What?”

She peers at him and cocks her head.  

“Am I your first?” She snorts at her own double entendres before continuing. “I mean, the rest of us have been visiting and sharing for a few months at least.  You must be a late bloomer.”

Suspicion and horror are growing at the back of Cullen’s mind.  “What do you mean?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

“You’re sensate now, part of our cluster.”

No.

She must see the revulsion and denial on his face because she rushes to continue, words coming out a mile a minute, “It’s really nothing at all like the Chantry says, honest!  We can’t control your mind and no one has any big bad dastardly plans - well, unless you count Adaar’s plans to nick some vitaar from-”

“This can’t be happening.”

It can’t.

She tries to put a hand on his arm, but he backs away from her.

“It’s going to be alright,” she says as if trying to soothe a rampaging druffalo, which is frankly infuriating.

“No it bloody well isn’t!” he hisses. “Maker’s breath, I’m a Templar.”

 Her face, if possible, gets paler.

“Shit!”

“How do I get out of here?” he asks, brusquely.

“Look - you can’t tell anyone! Please, don’t tell anyone!” She’s cornering him and can’t breathe and how did the Maker let this happen to him?

“I have a duty to let my Knight-Commander know I’ve been compromised!” he shouts, willing himself to believe it as much as her.

“You’re going to go tattle to mummy?” She says and there’s something brittle in her voice.  “They won’t spare you, you know.  You’re ruined for them. A mad dog that has to be put down.”

He knows she’s right.  He doesn’t have to ask again how to leave because all of a sudden he’s gone, back in his bed by himself.

~

He doesn’t turn himself in.  Not yet.  He needs to learn more about the others so he can go to Meredith with a full report, a list of names and locations.  If he went to her now…well, she has been overtaxed as of late and might eliminate him in her enthusiasm before thinking to deal with the larger problem.  It’s sound reasoning and most of the time he actually believes it.

So when he finds himself pulled into places he’s never been, speaking with people he’s never met, he tries to absorb as much information as possible.

He learns names and places and fighting styles, but he learns other things, too.

He learns you have to apply balm to qunari horns on a regular basis or they chafe and itch.  He learns that some Dalish clans, like clan Lavellan, openly celebrate their sensates, believing them a gift from their Creators, who they also call the Original Cluster.  He learns that surface dwarves are seen as sick and dangerous by their Orzamar kinsmen not only for their loss of Stone-sense, but because they can be pulled into clusters outside of the Great Castes (“Fucking isolationist shits!” Cadash curses cheerfully before making Cullen try some truly revolting whiskey.)  He learns how to sew a perfectly even stitch from an elven slave named Gaius, who smiles up at Cullen and calls him and the other cluster members “my wonderful, bright escape from this hell-hole” and Cullen doesn’t know if he feels better or worse that there is probably no way for the Chantry to reach him in Tevinter.  He learns and learns and learns, but he keeps telling himself it’s not enough, not yet.

~

He’s stuck with her more often than not.

She’s the most wary of him, at first - unsurprising, considering she is both a Circle mage and the person to whom he’d blurted his plan to expose them all (in a moment of tactical genius).  However, as weeks go by and he doesn’t say anything, she seems to relax around him.

This is a good thing and a bad thing.

Good because she is no longer openly hostile to him, bad because she then thinks it’s acceptable to tease him.

She giggles as she makes him attempt simple spells, taking over eventually because “I’m not going to actually fail my classes on a laugh!”

She sits in the corner making funny faces and cracking jokes while he’s lecturing some of the newer Templars. He’s equal parts annoyed and amused until she smiles at him just so and he’s reminded of a much prettier face that didn’t have a hooked and crooked nose that used to smile at him before-

He doesn’t acknowledge her or any of the others for the rest of the day.

~

He starts to notice patterns about their visits and realizes that they are much briefer and less frequent right after he’s taken his lyrium. He tells Cadash as much, who seems to think he’s on to something.  He goes on for a while about the differences between surface clusters and dwarven clusters and proximity to lyrium.  Cullen doesn’t understand all of it - partially because the history and science of it all is a bit beyond him and partially because Cadash’s particular version of common appears to be about 80% swearing and mixed metaphors - but he does latch on to the take-home message that lyrium might be used to suppress this kind of magic too.

He sits on a muddy beach in Tevinter, teaching Gaius how to read Common by drawing letters with a stick and can’t bring himself to do anything with this information yet.

~

An elven boy has been accused of being a sensate.  He denies it heartily, with none of the subservience Cullen had come to expect from most Kirkwall mages.

“Might have been Dalish,” Lavellan reasons, looking more than a little proud at the way he keeps his chin held high.

There’s a lot of back and forth until the boy bursts out, “He’s only saying I’m sensate because I refused to blow his stupid tiny prick!”

Trevelyan sucks in a breath through her teeth and clenches her jaw and glares at the Templar.

“Piece of prickly poisoned nug shite,” Cadash murmurs from the corner.

Cullen does his best not to look at either of them.  

Meredith sentences the boy to Tranquility on suspicion of sensate practices and slander against a Templar.

“Knight Commander, are you sure-”

“Do I not look sure?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“But- what if the boy is telling the truth and Ser Tormon has been abusing his power-”

“I will keep an eye on him for the next few months in case of any abuses.  Will that do, Knight Captain?”

No!  The cluster responds as one.

“But-”

“What is danger of one Templar grown slightly lax in his duties versus the danger of a mage who can control the minds of dozens of normal innocent citizens of Kirkwall?”

“Lax in his duties?!” a voice behind him cries.  He doesn’t so much as flinch at it.

“Of course, but perhaps we could delay-”

“You’re not saying we shouldn’t take the danger seriously, are you?” Meredith says, narrowing her eyes at him.

For a moment he wonders if she can see the figures crowded around him and he can barely breathe.

“Of course not, Knight Commander.”

“Good. I’d hate to hear my right hand had sympathies that were…misplaced.”

“No.  Not at all.”

“The Rite will be carried out at dawn.”

A command and dismissal all at once.

“Are you seriously going to let this happen?”

“How can you just sit there and do nothing!”

“Do you actually eat the pig shit she’s serving or do you just swallow it like a good boy?”

“I have some contacts - we could get the boy out of the tower tonight-”

As he walks back to his chambers, they surround him and bombard him with questions he can’t answer, demands he can’t fulfill.

He takes more than his usual does of lyrium all at once and the voices fade to nothing along with his fear and guilt.

~

It’s about two months on this increased dose before it stops working.

A man is holding him down by his wrists with one hand while fumbling with his (her? their?) robes with the other.  “Keep quiet about this and I’ll keep quiet about you talking to yourself in the library.”

He smells of ale and sweat and lyrium and he is (she is, they are) panicking.

“Magic is meant to serve man, after all,” he says with a chuckle, groping at him (her, them).

Cullen head-butts him, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch.

“Fucking spider-mind, demon-bait bitch!” the Templar says, lunging at him.

He’s drunk and he’s expecting a mage who hasn’t left the tower in years and barely knows how to fight with magic, not a seasoned Templar who has taught the very moves he’s trying to use.

He breaks the mans fingers and dislocates his arm and is about to kick the ever living shit out of him-

“What the fuck have you done?!” Deirdre Trevelyan asks.

“He was going to rape you!” he hisses, can’t believe she is lecturing him for this after they all teamed up against him over that elf boy.

“Do you honestly think it would be my first time?  That’s what Templars do!” She shouts at him.

No, no - she’s wrong.  He knows there are those that abuse their power, he knows, but they are in the minority, surely?

He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Deirdre fills the silence for him, “He’s going to report me!  I’m going to be made Tranquil!  I can’t- I can’t-”

Her breaths are coming in sharp bursts and tears are streaming down her face. 

Cullen doesn’t know how to fix this.

When he’s back in Kirkwall he fumbles with the lyrium, fingers shaking, and takes twice his allotted dose and stops trying to figure out how.

~

His days pass in a blur and he fudges the books and moves numbers around to ensure that he can continue his new dosage.  It’s for the best, he tells himself.  I’m only safe if I can keep them out.

Most days he doesn’t really believe it.  

Most days he doesn’t really care.

He keeps his head down and follows orders and does his duty.

He hunts down blood mages and abominations (and sensates! a voice in his head that sounds too much like Lavellan supplies) and keeps the city safe.

He does his duty.

He catches a Templar cornering a girl just passed her Harrowing and reports it to Meredith.

The mage is put in solitary confinement for three days and placed on probation for compromising the virtue of a Templar.  She gives the Templar a talking to.

Cullen stares in the mirror and forgoes his dosage and wills someone else’s face to appear beside him.  Is she alright?  Had he gotten her killed?  What had happened to that Templar?

No one comes.

He vomits and he doesn’t know if it’s disgust with himself or the other Templars or withdrawal from the lyrium (probably all three).

The next day he corners the Templar, gives him the shittiest work detail he can think of for the foreseeable future and informs him that if he ever hears that he’s so much as looked at a mage the wrong way again he’ll make sure he accidentally gets gelded the next time he is in the training yard.

He thinks it will make him feel better.

It doesn’t.

He takes the last two days worth of lyrium all together in one go.

~

The Chantry explodes and Meredith calls for the death of all the mages and even in the lyrium haze he has drugged himself into he can’t.  The last fifty thousand fucking steps he’s taken have all been steps too far, he knows, but this is the step he finally refuses to take.

~

He can’t bring himself to go with the other Templars as they all scramble to find their place in this new world.  He’s still terrified of mages and what they can do, but his uniform makes him feel filthy and soiled and his title feels like a curse.

He tries and fails to stop taking lyrium a few times before he simply gathers up his remaining supply and throws it down a latrine (To his credit, he only considers going to retrieve it once or twice).

He locks himself in a tavern room and pays for food and drink to be brought up, though he rarely has any.  He vomits and shivers and has headaches so bad he can barely see.  He thinks he’s starting to go mad.

He thinks he feels Lavellan stroking his brow and hears her asking the innkeeper for herbs.  She tells him it will help.  One of the others (he can’t tell - everything is so loud and hot and cold) says he doesn’t deserve help.  He heartily agrees.

He goes in and out and sometimes they’re there and sometimes they’re not.  He tries to search and find Trevelyan (Deirdre), but he can’t and, Maker, he’s so tired.

~

Cullen is almost thirty and Seeker Cassandra has asked for his help, which makes it easier to ask for hers.  She agrees to watch over him as they travel to the conclave, as more of that blue shit slowly leaves his body.

She’s fierce and stubborn and righteous and seems to genuinely want to do the right thing.  A part of him feels eight years old again and thinks that, maybe, he has been given a second chance. 

“It’s okay, I like her, too,” Gaius says to his left.  He’s got a black eye today, curtesy of his master, no doubt, but is smiling regardless.

“Hang in there, pretty-boy!” Adaar says, slapping him on the back. “We’ll see you at the temple in a few days.”

They both vanish.

Wait. What?

[slayyourdemonstogether]

Spacekru believed Clarke is dead. There was no reason to question that. They mourned her and they moved on. But they all know that Bellamy cared/cares for Clarke deeply. It was never fully shown on screen how losing Clarke affected Bellamy over the last 6 years. I’m sure it‘s only saved for later.

But we could see that the focus was always on Bellamy whenever Clarke was adressed, especially in the moment they found out Clarke is still alive. Cause his reactions are the important ones. They are highlighted to show us that Bellamy‘s feelings for Clarke are different. She is to him more than just a friend or someone he owes his life. That’s a fact the other 6 are aware of. That means E knows that too.

In space all Bellamy knew was that Clarke wasn‘t there with him. He‘d left her behind and she died in Praimfaya. Her sacrifice was an act of love and it made him fall for her even more. We can only imagine how many times Bellamy closed his eyes to dream a different ending. He did love her 6 years ago and he still does. But she became a memory.

Some people will say I’m a fool and disilusional cause Bellamy‘s feelings for Clarke we’re never spoken out loud. But Clarke didn’t say ´I love you’ either and I guess no one would question her love for Bellamy by this time. If they do, I don’t care. You can love someone in so many ways without saying it out loud. I stick to the story the writers are telling. Some people are never satisfied and no matter what I say I probably won’t change their mind either. But back on topic.

Over the time Spacekru grew together as a family and BE became a thing (sidenote: I don’t like it but that’s not what this is about). Loving E doesn’t mean Bellamy stopped loving Clarke. You can love two people at the same time, in this particular case - a living human and a ghost. It’s definitely not easy to let go, but it’s healthy to move on. And he did. Unfortunately with E, but I have to accept that she’s the chosen one. If she helped Bellamy to feel better, so let it be. I just want him to be happy.

E is alive, Clarke is not, simple as that. Bellamy never expected to see Clarke again. She became a part of him and his feelings for her are repressed or buried, but they are still there. You don’t stop loving someone because they are dead. It doesn’t work that way.

Bellamy promised E that nothing would change on the ground. And here we are. There is so much going on: SURPRISE SURPRISE Clarke isn’t dead, she’ still alive (that’s indeed life-changing), they are on the edge of war, his sister is a completely different person, Raven is trapped and Emory and Murphy are on the run. Everything is breaking apart. The only constant thing left was E and while Bellamy was engaged with holding onto that he missed what was going on with Clarke. [Bellamy I love you, but SHAME ON YOU!] With E gone too, contrary to his promise everything has changed after all.

When it comes to Bellarke we all expected an emotional outburst the moment they saw each other again. We didn’t get that yet - okay, that does not have to mean anything.

You think it’s not possible to break up with E and just move on to Clarke without being an ass. I say „it is“.

Bellarke is a built-up over 4 Seasons. It won’t come out of nowhere. Bellamy was in love with Clarke long before echo became a subject on the show. They were parted so many times, but whoever is meant to be will always gravitate back towards you. Bellamy and Clarke are soulmates. That’s the story they are telling for 4 seasons now. They are meant to be. Everyone knows that, Raven, Monty, Harper, Murphy, Kane, Jaha, even Dyoza. Just to name a few. It’s a long list and E knows it too.

I‘m sure, at some point, all buried/suppressed emotions will boil over, and we will learn that Bellamy has always been in love with Clarke and he never stopped loving her. He cares for E but he loves Clarke more. E is going to be hurt but she will understand. Bellamy’s and E’s relationship seems to be built on honesty. I refuse to believe that E tried to replace Clarke. She knew that Bellamy will never love her the way he loves Clarke and I think she accepted that. We definitely need more backstory that shows us that E knew right from the start what she was getting into and that she only got a chance because Clarke wasn’t there. It would make the break-up more understandable but not less painful. So, the secret is HONESTY.

I have no idea how this is going to play out on screen. It’s a balancing act. It really is.

If you ask me, Bellamy will only end as the ‚ASS’ if you want him to be the ‚ASS’. Don’t lose faith in Bellarke and all the years of built-up. The heart wants what it wants. You can’t control it.

506 was depressing but it was neither the end nor the beginning of Bellarke.

I’ve been thinking about how Be.cho is going to break up and honestly.. I’m like, are they even going to? They are very much in love, so it doesn’t seem like either one of them is looking to break up. If they break up so Bellamy doesn’t have to choose between her and Octavia, that kinda has already been adressed given the fact that he told Octavia he’d leave her behind and go with Ec.ho. Plus such a storyline would paint Octavia in an even worse light and make it look like “Bellamy is not allowed to be with someone he loves” which would put the story in limbo like can they overcome the obstacle? If Ec.ho makes a mistake and fucks up, Bellamy would look like a total assholes for giving up on his girlfriend when she makes a mistake. If Ec.ho goes back to her old ways because she’s struggling, then Bellamy again would look like an asshole for not fight for her but instead gives up as if he hasn’t been through hard times too. Bellamy is not a cheater so it’s not like they’d break up over that. If Ec.ho walks away but Bellamy doesn’t want that to happen but then turns to Clarke then it’d look like he’s only with her because Ec.ho broke up with him. If Bellamy and E.cho sit down and mutually break up then their passion and commitment we saw in 5x06 makes no sense. So.. how the hell are they breaking up in order for Bellamy not to be an asshole or for Bellarke not to feel cheap? In the script Bellamy told Octavia that he loves Ec.ho. They cut it out but I’m 100% sure it’s coming back one way or another. So would Bellamy break up with Ec.ho for Clarke? He’d risk looking like a jerk for leaving his loving and supporting girlfriend for another woman. I don’t think that would make Clarke look so good either, to start a relationship with Bellamy in front of Ec.ho. We know Ec.ho is not dying since TT said she’ll be in s6 and if she did die, Bellamy can’t just move right on to Clarke. I do expect them to end… I just cannot for the life of me see how they can break up without making Bellamy look like an ass. Any ideas?

[ayma-nidiot]

In the White Light - Prideshipping fanfic Chapter 23

Also on AO3.

Chapter 23 – Awakening

“Ugh… Too dark,” was Kaiba’s initial reaction to the ethereal space in which he floated. “So all my enemies were right. I did end up in hell after all.”

“That’s a little mean, Kaiba,” spoke a voice Kaiba had only heard once or twice. “I don’t think Atem would be happy to hear you call his bedchamber ‘hell.’”

“You are-” Kaiba awakened, and suddenly his surroundings changed to the royal bedchamber. To his sides were Mahad and some elderly man. At the foot of the bed stood a man who looked like Kaiba, except his chestnut locks flowed down his chest, and he had darker skin. “Mahad. And…” Kaiba tried to make out the other two men, but in his sleepy daze, he had a hard time doing so. “I think I remember you guys from the vision quest… Wait! You’re Atem’s father, Aknamkanon, aren’t you?”

“It feels nice to be remembered,” replied Aknamkanon with a warm smile.

Kaiba gave his doppelganger a sidelong look. “Okay, this is weird… You’re… um…”

“Seto. My name is Seto – just like yours.”

“Well, nice to meet you all.” Kaiba pulled the covers over him, leaving only the upper half of his head exposed. “Now, if you would be so kind as to let me have some sleep. In fact, I feel no shame in telling you that I plan to spend the rest of the day sleeping.”

“…Is that really what you want, Kaiba?” Aknamkanon asked. “Wouldn’t you rather go see my son, instead of spending the rest of your life with three people you hardly know?”

“…” Kaiba remained speechless for a spell as he slowly peeled the covers off. “…Am I dead?”

“Yes and no,” Mahad answered. “Right now, you are teetering on the edge of death. Even as we speak, your allies are calling to you.”

“My… allies?” Kaiba fully sat up and listened for voices beyond.

“Hahahaha!” sounded Zorc’s voice. “So much for the ‘power of Horakhty!’ Now… After I kill you, pharaoh, the royal bloodline will be no more!”

“Eyaaaaaah!” screamed Atem’s voice. “Unhand me, dark one! … Raaaah!”

“Ah, you’re just like a fish, struggling right before it gets gutted. You won’t be free for long!”

“You’re wrong…” spoke Rex. “Come on, Kaiba, don’t go extinct now! Not after I was just considering you a friend!”

“Hah! I don’t recall giving the so-called ‘ultimate’ rival of the pharaoh permission to die!” exclaimed Weevil.

“Sniff… Sniff…” Mokuba cried. “Big bro… You’re my only family. You’re all I got left! Don’t die…”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you!”

Tristan’s words were answered with what sounded like a slap – and a scolding from Joey. “Tristan, come on! Kaiba, don’t listen to him! If I, the person you hate most, want you to live, then damn straight you better live!”

“You saved me from being killed by that Rare Hunter! Please, let me return the favour!” shouted Téa. “I know you don’t like the concept of friendship, but can you believe in it just this once?”

“Blue-Eyes White Dragon… Lend Kaiba your strength…” Kisara appeared to be praying with Isis and Mana.

“I know you and the pharaoh beat me handily during Battle City, but that’s in the past now,” added Marik. “Right now, I – and all of my home country of Egypt – need you.”

“My other self.” Seto spoke to his future incarnate sternly. “I can no longer return to the world of the living. But you can. Go be with Atem again and be his hero. And if you see my father, tell him I wish things didn’t have to end up like this.”

“Can you tell my brother that I wish the same?” Aknamkanon requested. “That if I had known how hurt he was this whole time, that I would have done something about it?”

“Seto…” Kaiba wiped a tear from Seto’s face. In so doing, the priest – along with Mahad and Aknamkanon – faded, and imbued their ba into Kaiba. After a moment of contemplation, Kaiba leapt out of the bed. “Everyone… Thank you. But this will be the last time I do something generous for you all!”

_________

“I… I…” All this time, Atem could not think of a proper thing to say to Kaiba – until now. “No. I refuse to believe the man I love is dead.”

“Well, pharaoh, as you say in the modern world, ‘the proof is in the pudding!’ The only thing better than watching Kaiba die is watching you-” Zorc’s good mood dropped in an instant. “No… No, it can’t be!”

“Ah… My love?” Atem watched as Kaiba arose from the ground in half-shifted form, bathing the surroundings in a warm light. “He’s… Kaiba has revived!”

“HAHA!” Zorc cackled. “I can just as easily send him back from whence he came!”

“…” Kaiba, enveloped in a magical barrier, easily repelled the attack Zorc launched at him – as well as the many more after that.

“Impossible! How can none of my attacks harm you?”

“Because I have the support of my friends, as well as some… help from beyond.”

“Father… Mahad…” Atem shed a happy tear.

“I’ll not let history repeat itself…” Without fully transforming, the sapphires across Kaiba’s body glowed to generate a Shining Neutron Blast. “Not on this day.”

“Gaaah!”

Zorc relentlessly sent out a flurry of attacks at Kaiba, but all were in vain as the Shining Neutron Blast consumed him. “These wounds… No! I refuse to accept death! I refu-”

Rex waited a while to speak, almost as if to make sure Zorc was really dead. “Huhuhu. We won’t be seeing him again.”

“Yeah. Hehehe. That fartknocker’s history. Hehehe.” Weevil laughed – that is, until Kaiba suddenly fell on top of him. “Y-Yeowch!”

“Now you know how it feels…” Joey remembered well the first time he learned of Kaiba’s shapeshifting powers. “Bet he’s even heavier than back then.”

“I can still hear you, Wheeler,” Kaiba responded while still laying supine.

“So. Is he really gone?”

“Yes, Wheeler, Zorc is really gone.”

“Then…” Yugi turned to Atem with a sorrowful look. At this point, the pharaoh picked Kaiba up princess-style and led everyone back to the palace. “Now that ancient Egypt is at peace, we have to go now, don’t we? Back to our own time?”

“Aww, man, I wish I could have at least stayed for some more free food!” Mokuba whined.

“And maybe for a few cute girls, too…” Tristan thought aloud.

“Actually… It’s not time for you to go just yet.” Atem’s words quieted everyone down. “There’s one thing left for me to do before you all leave.”

“Ooh, do we get some souvenirs for the ride home?” Rex asked excitedly. “Like food?”

“And rare cards? Er, I mean, artifacts?” Weevil hoped.

“I’ll see to that before you go, but I had something else in mind.” Atem turned back to Yugi. “Yugi, I am not entirely confident that you can fare out in the world without me. Not after we’ve been together for so long.”

“What? But you saw me in that fight against Zorc’s army! And I’ve dueled plenty of times without your help! Doesn’t that duel with Bandit Keith ring a bell?””

“If you are that confident, then…” After laying a barely awake Kaiba on the throne, Atem picked up his DiaDhank from the table nearby. “Duel me, right now, in this sacred throne room.”

“What? Pharaoh, that’s crazy!” Joey would have none of it. “Don’t you think we should rest first? We kinda just fought a climactic battle against-”

“Very well.” Yugi took his deck out of his pocket and attached it to his Duel Disk. “I accept this challenge, pharaoh!”

“Yug, are you sure about this? You’re not tired? Not even a little?”

Yugi tried to hide the fact that, indeed, he was so tired he wanted to take a nap right there on the ground. He could tell from the look in his eyes that Atem felt the same; he had to be, after singing the Pharaoh’s Incantation for so long. “No, I’m fine. Just because I’m barely 150 centimeters and 40 kilograms doesn’t mean I can’t handle a bit of rough work.”

 “It will not be a Shadow Game,” Atem spoke. “Nevertheless, you should know that I expect nothing less than your best strategies.”

“Oh man…” Rex watched curiously as the duelists readied their dueling devices. He perked up his rabbit ears to hear the words they exchanged. “Watching two Yugis dueling is a bit… uh, weird.”

“We’ve seen a guy with a dragon head for a dick, and you’re calling this weird?” Weevil poked Rex with a spider leg.

“Now, Yugi, hit me with what you’ve got!”

Yugi assumed from Atem’s valiant declaration that he would have the first move. He had a mediocre first hand, but believed in the heart of the cards anyway. “I summon Celtic Guardian in attack mode! I’ll set a card face down. That’s about it.”

“Oh, Yugi.” Kaiba groaned from the throne. “I know that Celtic Guardian is one of your symbolic monsters, but that’s all it is: symbolic.”

Unlike his boyfriend, Atem knew better than to underestimate Yugi. “I activate the magic card Double Summon so that I may Normal Summon twice this turn. I call forth Light Effigy and Flamvell Magician!”

“It doesn’t make sense… Why would Atem have a Light Effigy in his deck when most of his monsters are of Dark attribute?” Joey commented.

Atem continued, “If the levels of my monsters are the exact level of the monster I want to summon, and the materials are correct, then I can Special Summon a Synchro Monster from my deck.” He looked to Rex. “I’m sure that you of all people know what a Synchro Summon is.”

“Huhu. Thank you, thank you.” Rex did a mocking bow, then sat back down.

“Using Light Effigy and the Tuner Monster Flamvell Magician, I Synchro Summon this monster! Avenging Knight Parshath!”

“It’s beautiful!” Téa said of the armoured fairy that appeared in the arena.

“Avenging Knight Parshath! Attack the Celtic Guardian!”

“Not if I can help it! Here’s a card that has helped me – us – time and time again!” Yugi revealed his face-down card. “Swords of Revealing Light! I don’t think I need to remind anyone here what it does.”

“…Go ahead with your turn, then.”

This will help! Yugi drew Silent Sword Slash. But even if I equip Silent Swordsman with this card, he’s still no match for Avenging Knight Parshath. I just hope I can last as long as the Swords of Revealing Light does. “I tribute Celtic Guardian so that I can Special Summon Silent Swordsman in attack mode!”

I remember that card, Atem thought as he drew Thousand Knives. His special ability allows his attack to go up by 500 points during each of Yugi’s standby phases. If I can summon Dark Magician before his attack gets too high… then I can use my Thousand Knives spell. “I summon Berry Magician Girl in attack mode! Turn end.”

It’s tempting to use this card, Yugi spoke of his newly drawn Change of Heart. But if I gain control of Avenging Knight Parshath and attack Berry Magician Girl, Atem will just summon a Dark Magician. “I’ll just end my turn, then, while my Silent Swordsman’s attack goes up to 1500.”

“Oh my gods, the tension is killing me!” Rex whined. “Come on, where’s the action?”

“Watch it,” Joey warned. “Many of these guys’ duels are like this, Rex. Just be patient, and the action will come.”

“Hmm…”

Yugi had to squint, but he could see a hint of a smile in Atem’s face as he set a card face-down. It was now his turn again. Cost Down isn’t going to help me right now… But at least my Silent Swordsman can defeat the Avenging Knight Parshath now! “I equip my Silent Swordsman with Silent Sword Slash, giving him an attack boost of 1500 points! Then… There goes your Avenging Knight Parshath!”

“And there goes your Swords of Revealing Light! Oh!”

“Pharaoh? You okay?” Yugi asked with concern, as Atem stared at that card with wide-eyes for a good two minutes.

“…I reveal my trap Magician Navigation! I can Summon Dark Magician from my deck, as well as this card… Say hello to Palladium Oracle Mahad!”

“Goodness…” spoke Yugi. Golden armour covered most of Mahad’s body, and only a hint of the High Priest’s original beige robes could be seen.

“My friend… You live again.” Atem knew it wasn’t necessarily true, but he didn’t care. “Now that I have a Dark Magician in play, I can use my Thousand Knives spell to destroy your only monster on the field – the Silent Swordsman!”

“Yeah, go ahead and do that. Because you’ve just activated my Silent Swordsman’s special ability! If he’s destroyed, I Special Summon any Silent Swordsman card from my deck, and I choose Silent Swordsman Lv. 7!”

“Very clever, Yugi, very clever. You could have easily used Silent Swordsman’s ability to negate the spell altogether, but you were wise enough not to.”

Yugi smiled at this praise, then summoned Silent Paladin in defense mode, and could thus add Silent Swordsman Lv. 3 to his hand from his deck. ��Pharaoh, forgive me for this, but… My Silent Swordsman Lv. 7 will attack your Palladium Oracle Mahad!”

“…You are forgiven. Especially since I can Special Summon another Dark Magician from my deck, thanks to Palladium Oracle Mahad’s special ability.” Atem spoke no more as he simply set a trap face-down, then turned it over to Yugi.

This duel is going in my favour, but knowing Atem… I’m sure that he’s got a card in his deck far more powerful than Dark Magician. “I will now attack the Dark Magician you just Special Summoned!”

“That was not smart, Yugi. Reveal Trap Card, Shield Spear! My Dark Magician’s attack power is raised by 400 points for a turn! You can’t take back your attack once you’ve declared it, which means that your Silent Swordsman Lv. 7 is destroyed.”

“I’m… I’m fine…” So Yugi said, but in his mind, he knew he wasn’t. Silent Paladin was his only monster defending his Life Points now, and she didn’t have very good defense.

Atem sighed upon seeing the card he drew. “Well, you won’t be… after I summon Skilled Blue Magician and activate the spell Magicalized Fusion! With this card, I can even use monsters from my Graveyard – namely my Flamvell Magician and Palladium Oracle Mahad – for a Fusion Summon! Dark Magician may be one of my strongest monsters, but I have one that is mightier still…”

“Oh my gods… What is that?” Tristan spoke of this new spellcaster monster, with four arms that generated four magical circles.

“This is the greatest of all spellcasters… Quintet Magician!”

Weevil rubbed his eyes. “Am I reading that attack counter correctly? That thing’s got 4500 attack points? It could squish my Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth in an instant!”

“My new monster’s special ability is even more fearsome, Weevil. You see, I used five different magicians for its Fusion Summon – Berry Magician Girl, Dark Magician, Flamvell Magician, Skilled Blue Magician, and Palladium Oracle Mahad. With his four arms, Quintet Magician destroys all of your cards, Yugi!”

“All… of them?” Yugi finally gave in to his weak knees.

“Since all of your cards are destroyed, I can attack you directly and end this at last!”

“…No. You will do no such thing.” Yugi fumbled with the card he set on his Duel Disk. “Not yet… Thanks to our good friend Kuriboh.”

“Hehehe…” Kaiba couldn’t help but chuckle at this surprisingly weak but useful monster. “After all this time, you still keep that puffball in your deck. You’ve got more cojones than I thought, Yugi. But can you get yourself out of this mess? You got more Kuribohs in that deck of yours?”

“No.” And I don’t have a single card in my deck that can overpower that Quintet Magician…

[steph]

Tounsi était mon truffinet d’amour [fr]

[en] I had to put my beloved Tounsi to sleep last night. FATE, saddle thrombosis. I am heartbroken. There are some details on his Facebook page. I can't believe he's gone. I've cried myself out of tears again and again.

[fr]

J’ai eu du mal à l’aimer, au début. Je ne semblais pas vraiment l’intéresser. Il ressemblait un peu trop à Bagha, de loin, sur le canapé. J’avais surtout craqué pour son pote de refuge, Safran. J’avais même entrevu l’ombre de la possibilité de prendre à sa place un joli noir et blanc qui avait juste refait surface au refuge, mais il était déjà dans son panier et je ne pouvais me résoudre à penser à le laisser.

Tounsi était un chat spécial. Oui, tous les chats le sont, mais certains plus que d’autres. Beaucoup de personnalité. Une presence presque humaine. Beaucoup de volonté. Des challenges tant médicaux que comportementaux, qui m’ont menée à beaucoup m’investir pour lui, ce qui n’a fait qu’augmenter mon attachement au fil des années. Il était vraiment mon amour de chat.

Nous avons été ensemble cinq petites années. Mais il y a eu tellement de vie durant ces années que ça me semble être au moins le double. J’ai le coeur en mille miettes. Perdre Bagha a été terrible, et c’était brutal, mais il avait 14 ans, et je savais que chaque mois de plus ensemble était un mois de bonus. Tounsi n’avait que 7-8 ans. Je pensais avoir encore de longues années en sa compagnie. Récemment, j’étais plutôt à penser à la disparition possible de Quintus, qui même s’il est en bonne santé mis à part sa cécité, son arthrose, et son début d’insuffisance rénale, accuse quand même bientôt 16 ans.

Là, en trois jours, c’est fini. Vendredi matin, Tounsi a fait une thromboembolie aortique. Un caillot de sang s’est logé là où l’aorte se sépare en trois pour aller dans les pattes arrières et la queue, et a coupé la circulation. Pattes paralysées, grande douleur – mais en bon chat Tounsi n’a rien montré, et moi je n’ai rien vu, parce qu’il avait fait une crise semblable au début du mois avec paralysie partielle d’une patte, qui avait passé toute seule, et qu’on avait ajouté au tableau “épilepsie idiopathique”, le diagnostic sur lequel on s’était arrêtés pour expliquer les étranges mouvements de patte du Touns’. Ce n’est que le soir que j’ai noté que sa respiration n’allait pas et qu’il montrait peut-être des signes de douleur.

Vétérinaire de garde, Tierspital, diagnostic. Les détails sont sur sa page Facebook. Samedi, dimanche, désespérément stable, si ce n’est que l’oedème pulmonaire avait été résorbé et qu’il respirait sans oxygène. Pattes toujours sans circulation, paralysées, muscles durs, coussinets bleus. Hier soir, appel du Tierspital. Ses reins ont lâché, probablement un nouveau thrombus. J’ai le temps de faire l’heure de route jusqu’à Berne, la quatrième fois en moins de 48 heures, pour lui faire mes adieux et le laisser mourir dans mes bras, parce qu’il n’y avait plus d’espoir, parce qu’il souffrait, parce que c’était le moment.

Je pensais encore avoir quelques jours, on se donnait jusqu’à la fin de la semaine pour voir si la circulation revenait dans ses pattes – mais même si ce miracle s’était produit, la source des thrombus (maladie cardiaque avancée, tumeur) ne nous donnait de toute façon pas grand espoir pour la suite.

J’ai beaucoup pleuré depuis la nuit de vendredi à samedi. Plus d’une fois je me suis vidée de mes larmes. Sur la bande d’arrêt d’urgence de l’autoroute qui quitte Berne, personne ne vous entend crier votre peine. Je crois que je savais dès le début comment ça se terminerait. Mais je ne pensais pas que ce serait aussi brutal. La dégringolade. Les derniers morceaux de mon coeur abandonnés sur les aires de repos entre Lausanne et Berne. Et une absence de chat proportionnelle à la place que prenait Tounsi dans ma vie.

Je suis sous le choc, bien évidemment. Ça va, parce que j’ai passé par là avec Bagha, et je sais qu’un jour il y aura un jour sans larmes, je sais que la peine s’estompe, je sais que la vie reprend son cours et qu’on se fait à l’absence. Ça fait mal, aussi, de s’y faire. Mais on s’y fait.

Mais là je navigue entre désespoir et moments où je me sens sereine, shootée au déni, merveilleux mécanisme de défense qui prête au monde une couche d’irréalité, qui nous permet de fonctionner, mais qui peut se retourner contre nous si on s’y accroche trop. Alors je pleure, je me vide de mes larmes encore une fois, j’accepte un bout de plus cette nouvelle réalité qu’est la mienne, et je repars pour un moment. Les larmes se rempliront, bien sûr. Et je recommencerai.

Je regarde mon appartement et tout ce qui y est “pour Tounsi”. Le grand arbre à chat avec le panier dans lequel il aimait dormir. “L’échelle à chat” faite de deux meubles IKEA bricolés. Le carton de jouets, que j’ai rangé enfin l’autre jour, plein de nouvelles cannes à pêche achetées exprès pour lui, et dont Quintus ne peut profiter, car il est aveugle.

Tous les aménagements faits pour nourrir deux chats avec des appétits et des régimes différents. Les coussins et espaces où il se tenait. Ça m’a donné l’idée d’un projet photographique sur l’absence.

Il y a des moments, inévitables, où je pense au prochain chat. Comme la dernière fois, je vais attendre. Attendre d’être bien dans ma nouvelle vie sans mon Tounsinet. Mais ces idées me traversent l’esprit. Et ce nouveau chat qui s’invite timidement dans mon imagination, je vois tellement bien que c’est un remplacement de Tounsi. Je veux le même. Je ne veux pas accepter d’être sans lui. Ces idées ne sont qu’une des formes que prend le déni, le refus d’accepter.

Je suis préoccupée par des questions pratiques: quelle routine Quintus et moi allons-nous établir, sans Tounsi? Comment vais-je le nourrir, maintenant que la gamelle à puce n’est plus nécessaire, que je peux contrôler entièrement ce qu’il mange? Etait-ce important pour lui, pour son équilibre, sa santé, qu’il partage sa vie avec un autre chat – ceci d’autant plus qu’il ne sort presque plus?

J’entrevois aussi les soulagements, les pendants à la liberté dont j’avais su profiter durant mon “année sans chat”. Tounsi était un chat beaucoup plus contraignant que Quintus. Fini les problèmes de marquage dans l’appartement. Fini les expéditions nocturnes pour le récupérer du côté du Gras Haret. Je n’arrive pas à m’en réjouir – et ce ne serait pas juste, aujourd’hui. Mais je sais que le jour viendra.

Le deuil n’est pas un processus linéaire, c’est une série d’allers-retours entre des états assez différents. Ça zigue et ça zague, de moins en moins à mesure que passe le temps. Il faut juste s’accrocher dans les contours, faire preuve de courage pour rester en selle, et garder confiance que même lorsque le tunnel paraît sans fin, lorsque le bleu du ciel ne nous fait plus rien, que la vie a perdu tout goût et que le peu de sens qu’on avait grappillé au fil des années semble s’être envolé à jamais, on est en train de faire ce qu’il faut faire. On serre les yeux, on plonge dans sa peine, à la mesure de notre attachement, et on se laisse porter un bout plus loin.Similar Posts:

Pourquoi j'ai attendu avant de reprendre un chat [fr] (2013)

Faire sortir un chat [fr] (2013)

Faire preuve de courage face au deuil [fr] (2016)

Vivre [fr] (2002)

"Vaincre la peur du vide" [fr] (2002)

Coloriage, Catane, Rubik’s Cube [fr] (2015)

Chat qui marque: Tounsi et le comportementaliste [fr] (2016)

Refus [fr] (2002)

Observatrice suisse tuée à  Hébron [fr] (2002)

PointBlog: ça traîne en longueur, et Ginisty aux abonnés absents [fr] (2007)

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