#like *gestures wildly* how are you denying/disregarding this?!

[a-heart-of-kyber]

I can only speak as a person raised Catholic (heh...), but let me present a wild scenario.

Could you imagine the actual Holy Spirit having a clear and direct sentient influence in your child's life?

With this connection to the Holy Spirit, he starts performing absolutely insane miracles that a Child shouldn't be capable of and by the age of 8 God's chosen priest shows up like "Hey kid, have you heard of our lord and savior Jesus Christ? In my day, he was super sexy. You’re special. I'm going to train you and later you should probably go to a religious school."

And then, by age 17ish, Jesus himself shows up like, "Yes, twas me the whole time. Let me train you one on one my child." And then a year later, your son tells you he's sleeping with Jesus?

Like...does this help anyone understand what happened to Gale better? Or does it help that the Mystra analog is depicted as a man? Do you need me to hold your hand and tell you that even if Gale showed interest, it was on Mystra, as the omniscient god with all the power in the relationship and Future sight?!, to not fucking sleep with the mortal who maybe became an adult 5 minutes ago?

[bigskydreaming]

Brain topic du jour is reflecting on the frankly weird as fuck pattern in Dick’s life where....he barely ever experiences losses one at a time. Most of the loss he’s experienced in his life is compounded by him losing multiple people and other elements of stability all at the exact same time.

1) When his parents died, in some continuities this is coupled with him losing his extended family of his aunt and cousin as well, with his uncle left comatose and on life support for years before he eventually died as well. Even in continuities without Richard, Karla and John, the loss of Dick’s parents is compounded by the additional loss of his circus family in the sense that he was taken away from them by the state and their constant reassuring presences in his life were no longer comforts he was able to rely on.

2) When Jason died, Dick didn’t just lose his brother, as the tragedy was compounded by Bruce’s reaction. I’ll never be able to gloss over the effects of NTT #55, personally, because I think its too key to Dick’s entire characterization and the specific direction his character took in the years that followed this, to like....disregard that Bruce however unintentionally, while lost in his own grief, added to Dick’s own sense of loss for Jason in probably the worst way possible. As by kicking Dick out and telling him to leave his keys, Dick - having no way to know or guess that they’d ever reconcile, just like he never actually went back to the circus being a regular presence for him - to Dick, this was in essence the equivalent of his childhood tragedy all over again. Losing not just one family member, but his whole family in one sweep, and all the comforts and stability offered by a home he was forced to leave. Even Dick’s contact with Alfred was minimal for awhile, because why would the guy who basically JUST saw history repeat itself and was like, well I know how THIS tends to play out.....why would he think that if Alfred felt forced to actually choose between his loyalties to Bruce and Dick respectively, that Alfred would pick Dick over the man he’d known and raised from childhood himself?

3) Titans Hunt. I know I harp on this one a lot, but you can’t deny that it fits the pattern. Dick didn’t just lose one friend and teammate.....he lost Joey, he lost a good four or five lesser known Titans who nevertheless were people he viewed as directly HIS responsibility to keep safe. With these tragedies compounded by the fact that though comics played out a lot more slowburn and extended stories over years back then, like.....the aftermath of Titans Hunt was still everpresent and directly died into Dick’s reactions and emotions during the Mirage storyline and everything that happened with the failed wedding and his breakup with Kory AND the fact that he was literally forced off the team he’d basically founded, by the government agency that took over the team and appointed Roy as its leader in his stead.

3) Graduation Day. The second time the Titans disbanded it was again not due to a singular loss, because Dick didn’t just lose Donna at this point, but also Lilith died in the exact same story and though Lilith is criminally underused, like, she’s also one of Dick’s oldest friends. She was literally the first Titan to join after the original five. This then led into the Outsiders era, where Dick was shown to still be reeling from the losses of this story for an extended period of time, and in a fun parallel to the Titans Hunt aftermath, Dick was also ousted from his leadership of THIS team by essentially a vote of no confidence by his teammates (and uh, Bruce too, literally).

4) The Blockbuster arc. Where Dick’s emotional state was due to a continued string of multiple losses. He lost his apartment building and almost every one of the neighbors he’d built a community out of, as we’d been shown him actively involving himself in their lives and vice versa for YEARS before this point. Then he lost his circus, his childhood home, burned to the ground and with dozens of deaths - both spectators and actual performers Dick had known and loved as a child. Then he lost his relationship with Barbara, his sense of self-security and autonomy to Tarantula, he lost another teen vigilante who died in his colors, the mantle HE’D created, when Stephanie was believed dead in War Games, and it all culminated in losing the city he’d invested himself in as his CHOSEN home, the place he dedicated himself to protecting, when Chemo blew it up.

Oh just for the record - my nonexistent passport to the magical kingdom of Narnia for a fic that raises the point when bringing up Tim’s losses in the Red Robin era, that like.....ALL of the above happened at literally the EXACT SAME TIME as all Tim’s referenced losses occurred. Obviously Steph meant more to Tim than Dick on a personal level, but I also included her largely as an anchor point to the timeline, to show how that death, and not long after that Jack Drake’s and then Superboy’s.... occurred right smack in the middle of one of the absolute WORST periods of Dick’s life. To be clear, I don’t intend this to suggest that no actually, Dick had it harder than Tim - nah. 

No thank you. Hard pass. I hate that sort of thing even in support of my own faves over other characters. No, instead the thing I’d love to see explored more is just in light of the SPECIFIC angle fics take here - that Dick’s actions while Bruce was lost in time showed an obliviousness to everything Tim had lost lately - for literally ANYONE to bring up or introduce into the timeline here an awareness of everything Dick had lost AT THE EXACT SAME TIME PERIOD. To establish that actually, Dick didn’t just ‘not understand what it was like’ - rather, its more accurate to say that nobody in universe around this time ever shows an awareness of Dick’s own losses and says oh wait, that doesn’t track then. 

Because obviously, with this stuff put in proper perspective, Dick understands VERY VERY WELL the exact thing we’re accusing him of not understanding by being oblivious to Tim’s losses that he’s not actually oblivious to because he tries to talk to Tim about them all the time, while meanwhile its everyone else who has absolutely mum to say about the fact that Dick’s emotional state is compromised to hell and back at this point, not JUST because of losing Bruce, but also because *gestures wildly* literally ALL OF THE ABOVE in the exact same time frame Tim’s extended losses happened in.

And okay I am going to indulge in slight tiny itty bitty pettiness and point out my ire that so many fics set during this time tend to recite listicles of Tim’s losses, with Steph, Kon and Jack Drake at the very top of said list....while paying no attention whatsoever to the fact that STEPH WAS LITERALLY BACK BY THE TIME THE RED ROBIN SERIES HAPPENED. She’s LITERALLY a person Dick sends to check up on Tim after Tim turns Dick away when he tries himself. How are you gonna stress the impact Steph’s loss has on Tim when you’re not even acknowledging STEPH’S RIGHT HERE IN THE EXACT SPECIFIC CANON STORY YOU’RE CITING??? I just. afhioskhflafhlafhklfahlfa. 

And not to put too fine a point on it, but you know who ELSE was also back at the same time? CONNOR. Superboy LITERALLY was already back to life by the time the Red Robin series even began. Like, the issue where a resurrected Kon and Cassie (Wonder Girl) have a heart to heart about the fact that Tim and Cassie ‘connected’ during his absence and Connor stresses that this doesn’t bother him or make him feel negatively towards either of them at all, because hello, he was literally dead at the time, why would he mind that two of the people he loves most in the world sought comfort in each other? Yeah, that issue? Literally came out BEFORE Tim even became Red Robin.

I MEAN. I’m just saying, when people constantly take shots at Dick’s choices during this period because of how much Tim had lost before Bruce already, in order to shift focus away from the fact that Dick lost Bruce every bit as much as Tim did......and you repeatedly emphasize the SAME three names as the focal point of Tim’s losses while paying no acknowledgment whatsoever to everything Dick lost at the exact same time Tim lost these three.....it quickly becomes kiiiiiiinda relevant in my opinion THAT TWO OF THE THREE NAMES CONSTANTLY MENTIONED AS BEING TIM’S LOSSES ARE NO LONGER EVEN LOST BY THE TIME THE SUBJECT COMES UP. Again, I’m just saying! Pettily, mind you! I am aware of the pettiness, I just beg awareness of like *again gesticulates wildly at all of the above* ALL THAT!

LOL.

But I digress.

5) When Bruce was believed dead while he was lost in the timestream. Again, Dick didn’t just lose the father who had been the only parent in his life for almost TWICE as long as his first parents......this was coupled with the loss of numerous other sources of stability in Dick’s life. There’s the matter of his personal sense of identity and self-expression....Dick FOUGHT against becoming Batman, trying to handle Gotham in Bruce’s absence as Nightwing for as long as he could, because he knew being Batman was very much NOT going to be good for him. He put so much of himself into building his identity as Nightwing, establishing himself in that role, that self-image, that yes, I maintain it was an actual LOSS for Dick, to feel like he had no choice but to give that up and everything it meant to him and his own life, in order to essentially live Bruce’s life for him in his absence. 

Because it wasn’t just being Batman that Dick was struggling with at this time....he also had to act as the patriarch to the Wayne family, essentially raise Bruce’s ten year old son, step into Bruce’s old role in Wayne Enterprises, all while getting no acknowledgment for any of this, for literally LIVING his father’s life instead of the life Dick had worked so hard to build for HIMSELF....because of course Dick’s actions and struggles couldn’t even be advertised beyond the family and close friends, because the whole point of him doing all this was so that nobody else even realized that Bruce wasn’t really there anymore. Dick didn’t just assume Bruce’s responsibilities. Dick assumed Bruce’s life, so thoroughly that most people didn’t even put together that Bruce was ‘dead,’ between Dick handling Bruce’s actual roles and responsibilities while Hush made public appearances as him. 

Like, when you’re living someone else’s life so completely that nobody can tell they’re even gone....how on earth does that leave any time or space for you to have ANY kind of life of your OWN, y’know? Not to mention the fact that like in so many times previously....all this meant that Dick couldn’t even afford to let his grief for his own losses show, because he wasn’t supposed to be grieving any losses in the first place, that was the whole point of the con!

Additionally, couple this with the fact that throughout this time period, Dick didn’t have Tim to lean on at all, because it was never that Dick kicked Tim out or neglected him or didn’t care....he’d actively stressed how much he needed Tim, because the partner Tim was convinced Dick chose ‘over’ him - Dick was the first one to admit back then that he DIDN’T trust Damian yet, couldn’t afford to, because he was all too aware that Damian didn’t give a fuck about him yet and couldn’t be guaranteed to step in to have Dick’s back - because that required mutual trust that Dick literally just hadn’t had time to build yet. And add to THAT the fact that during this time, Jason was actively antagonizing the family and Dick in particular at every turn, trying to bring them all down and basically write over what all of them saw as Bruce’s legacy with Jason’s own version of what he thought that should look like.

Also also, take into account that unlike how often we see fanon depict Dick as just too stubborn or proud to ask for help, there’s the fact that he actually had very few avenues TO ask for help! As already established, he DID ask Tim for help. Not like Jason was an option at this time, and Dick’s friends weren’t actually just sitting waiting in the wings and groaning about the fact that Dick was trying to do all of this solo....nah, they kinda had their own problems, which Dick was all too aware of?

Like the fact that in the wake of Final Crisis, it wasn’t just Bruce that was believed lost. Many other key Leaguers like Martian Manhunter were dead or lost, with others struggling to fill the gaps left in their absence. Cry For Justice happened right after Final Crisis too....that story where Lian was murdered? So it wasn’t like Dick was remotely going to try leaning on Roy when Roy had just lost his freaking DAUGHTER and very much wasn’t handling it well (and not to overshadow Roy’s loss at ALL, but please let’s not act like Dick - who had literally been the person to put a baby Lian in Roy’s arms for the first time and had known that girl for pretty much her entire life - like, it shouldn’t be used to detract from Roy’s loss at all, but it shouldn’t have to, to just acknowledge that Lian’s loss right at this exact time was painful as fuck to Dick, who’d loved his niece like crazy.)

The pattern of compounding, concurrent losses in Dick’s life. I’m just saying. Its there.

And it extends into the New 52 as well, where Forever Evil came right on the heels of Dick losing his circus in THIS continuity to the Joker, just as a way to hurt him in Death of A Family. And with the aftermath of Forever Evil and Dick’s own literal death, being like....the complete loss of Dick’s entire life, even though he was revived quickly. That didn’t mean he got to live HIS life though, since Dick Grayson was believed dead and he was told had to remain so, so its like fuck whatever he actually wanted to do as he went about on the Spyral mission aka something that pinched his own sense of morality and personal agenda at every turn and was kinda the last thing a therapist would recommend for a trauma recovery period, lol. And like, for all the focus that was paid to how Dick’s family were hurt because they believed they’d lost him when he was actually alive, let’s not forget that for all intents and purposes, Dick DID lose his family in the wake of his resurrection because he was flat out told over and over that due to what ‘he’d LET happen to him’ he was an ACTIVE danger to them, and thus wasn’t allowed by Bruce to contact any of them or lean on them to any degree, until Bruce got amnesia and stopped blocking Dick’s pleas to return home by just not being there to pick up the secret phone line at all. 

(And omg, the obliviousness that just EMANATES off the hot takes that Dick had a ‘choice’ in all this and he still CHOSE to do what Bruce told him....like. LOLOL, stop being pissy about me bringing up the term abuse apologism when its literal victim blaming to paint the guy who had to be beaten into ‘agreeing’ to the Spyral mission in the immediate wake of the trauma of DYING, all while his father vocally blamed him for his own suffering and the ‘threat’ he now posed to his family, keying directly into the guilt complex Bruce knows damn well is at the core of most of Dick’s motivations.....fucking please. There’s no choice in all that. That’s active emotional, mental and physical abuse aimed at directly manipulating Dick’s actions, delivered by the guy who knows Dick best in the world and whose approval - particularly when Dick is at absolute rock bottom aka Current Location - matters more to Dick than just about anything because his sense of self-worth has more in common with dog shit than actual dog shit does. Or something. Idk. That analogy got away from me. But like. You get it.)

BUT. I. DIE. GRESS. (I guess).

Aaaaaaanyway, so yeah! That repeating pattern throughout Dick’s life of ‘loss? What loss (singular)? My losses only come in groups, lolol, fuuuuuun’ - mmmm. Yeah. So that’s what’s on MY brain right now. Thoughts?

[ragingbookdragon]

The Beds We’ve Made

Kurt x De Sardet

Word Count: 1,250 Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: I was sorely displeased with the lack of angry and hurt dialogue after the CG coup. Also, spoilers for Kurt’s and GreedFall main quests! Enjoy! -Thorne

           De Sardet had been silent in the aftermath of the coup, and while serenity was her normal state, the quiet that surrounded her unnerved her companions, Kurt most of all. She listened to Constantin thank the man and the others for their help, promising rewards for all of them, and though they humbled their way through the offers, they didn’t outright deny them.

           Her cousin turned his attention on her, voice as tired as his face shown. “As for you my fair cousin. Ah! You know what I owe you.” He smiled. “Not only have you looked out for me like always, but you have protected my advisors too.”

           De Sardet tried for a smile, but she figured all that was produced was a grimace. “You needn’t thank me for such a thing, Constantin. I did what was necessary.” Clearing her throat, she added, “Petrus and Aphra have both said that San Matheus and Hikmet were both successful in their campaigns to thwart the Coin Guard.”

           Constantin nodded. “Excellent. It would’ve been a shame if they hadn’t.” He looked over De Sardet again. “I was told as well that you have captured Commander Torsten and his underlings?”

           “We have,” she confirmed. “And they will be punished accordingly.”

           Something dark flashed across her cousin’s face and he admitted, “I’ve half a mind to give them to the Ordo Luminous for what they’ve done.” He waved a hand. “Enough talk of their crimes. We have stopped them, and for that, I thank you again Kurt.”

           The mercenary huffed a laugh, and it made her eye twitch. “If your highness is looking for a means to translate his gratitude, gold is a present that is always appreciated.”

           De Sardet scoffed, quietly sneering, “Yes, because gold is seemingly all that matters to you.” She could feel Kurt’s gaze upon her, but she ignored it.

           “I imagine that you shall name a new commander? Hopefully, someone more trustworthy than Torsten?” Constantin inquired.

           Kurt nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes. I’ll be discussing the matter with the loyal officers, the ones I trust. But I think I know who will be elected. And as aware as we are about the Guard’s reputation being tarnished, we won’t be making the same mistake twice. Sieglinde is one of the most solid and loyal soldiers I’ve ever fought beside. She will lead us well.”

           The assured smile that crossed her cousin’s face made De Sardet want to pull her hair out. “You have my full trust, Kurt. You have amply earned it.”

           Constantin’s gaze fell on her once more. “Cousin are you well?” his voice was full of concern.

           At that, her companions turned to her and she realized she was scowling; De Sardet shook her head. “I’m fine…just tired, is all.”

           He nodded sympathetically. “I understand.” His eyes darted to the moon rising in the sky. “It is well into the night. You should all retire and get rest. The plan for tomorrow can wait.”

           “Are you sure, Constantin?”

           “Yes, dear cousin. You have run all over the city today. Please, rest for the evening.”

           De Sardet walked up to him, leaning over to softly press her lips to his temple. “I will come back in the morning, Constantin. If you need me though, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

           He chuckled quietly. “I always need you, cousin.”

           She laughed and pulled away, smoothing his hair. “Make sure you get some rest too.” He nodded but didn’t say anything and she turned on her heel, striding for the doors, the others following close behind.

***

           The night air felt less stuffy, but the smell of smoke still surrounded her. At least she felt like she could breathe again. Her shoulders rose and fell with the heavy sigh that left her, and suddenly she felt dead on her feet, ready to sink into her sheets. Footsteps came to a halt behind her and she turned, her companions waiting for her to breach the silence.

           She rolled her thoughts over her tongue before deciding on, “It’s been a long day. I suspect most of us will sleep into the next afternoon.” De Sardet popped her wrists. “Don’t worry about being ready in the morning. I’ll come collect you after noon tomorrow.”

           Before she could even take a step towards her house, she heard, “Carants? Are you well?”

           Síora’s question seemed to set off a train reaction because each of her friends offered their own concerns and De Sardet nodded, swallowing thickly.

           “I’m fine. As I said, I’m only tired.” She spun and started off down the stairs but stopped when she heard his voice.

           “I’ll come with you, Green Blood.”

           Something heavy weighed down on her chest and she squared her shoulders but refused to look back at him.

           “I don’t think that’s a wise decision, Kurt.” Her eyes focused on the stars in the distance and she added, “As a matter of fact, I don’t think you coming with me tomorrow will be one either.”

           “What?” his voice was full of incredulity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

           Finally, De Sardet faced him, and the anger she’d felt all day simmered to a boil in her veins. “Do you need me to spell it out for you, my most loyal Master-At-Arms?” Kurt winced at the title and she took step towards him, hissing, “Until further notice, you are hereby dismissed from my service. You will spend all your time either at the palace watching over my fool cousin—who has seemingly disregarded your role in the coup, or you will stay in the Coin Guard barracks.”

           She thrust a finger into his chest. “But I don’t want you anywhere near this group until I’m ready.”

           “Your excelle—”

           De Sardet cut him off with a harsh shove, and though she wasn’t strong like him, he still stumbled back a bit. “Shut up!” she shouted. “Just shut up! I don’t want to hear any of your excuses!”

           Her eyes hardened when the tears filled them. “You lied to me, Kurt. I trusted you and you lied to me.” I gave you my heart and you lied to me, is what she meant, and he knew it too.

           “Only by omission, my lady.” He defended, ignoring how the others seemed to take a few steps back, intent to let them argue.

           “A lie is still a lie, Kurt!” De Sardet retorted sharply. “You could’ve told me what was happening. A warning before all of this—” she gestured wildly, and upon not finding an eloquent term, she borrowed one from Vasco. “shitstorm you pulled us into.”

           She breathed heavily and said, “Regardless, my cousin might’ve placed his trust in you once more, but rest assured I will no longer extend the same courtesy to you.”

           Kurt’s face fell and while some part of her felt bad for her declaration, she reveled in the way it felt. “You made this bed, mercenary. Rest in it.” Her words dripped with a frigid rage.

           “My la—”

           De Sardet raised a hand, effectively silencing him. “I suggest you get out of my sight lest I scar the other side of your face.”

           She knew the man was too proud to flee with his tail between his legs, but he obeyed her, quietly descending the steps without another word.

           Her eyes swept over the rest of her group and nodding firmly, she made her way back to her home, heart aching the entire way.

[celestialtitania]

Breaking Down Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Plagg hummed at the scent of his favourite cheese. ”Camembert,” he sighed in his sleep, cuddling on the pillow next to Adrien. Then he felt a sharp prod as the scent of cheese diminished. He woke up with a yowl.

Plagg began to look around wildly trying to see what had caused his rude awakening, only to see...Tikki?

“Sugarcube? What are you doing here?” He hissed, checking to make sure Adrien was still asleep. She only gave him a dead stare. He backed away from her a little, worried that there was something wrong with her. Then she spoke for the first time. 

“I’m going to ruin a certain someone. And I need your help.” Plagg’s eyes grew wide. She hadn’t even scolded him for calling her sugarcube! This had to be serious. He wondered what happened to make Tikki so angry. Then he smirked, if Tikki wanted to do something bad to someone, they must be horrible and completely deserving of whatever punishment she wanted to dole out.

Not to mention, Tikki was much crueler than him sometimes. “I’m in. This is going to be a blast Sugarcube.”

“Good. Come on. We need to get the others.” Then she turned and flew out the window. Plagg was so surprised he didn’t even stop for a snack.

“Others? Who else is helping?” He called after her, as they flew in the night. Tikki wouldn’t stick to any straight path, twisting and turning, phasing through random walls. If anyone were following them, they’d be lost. 

Plagg summoned some extra energy to grasp Tikki’s hand to slow her down. “Sugarcube. Where are we going?”

“To Master’s. Where else?” Tiki deadpanned.

“The Guardian? What for?”

“Where else are we going to get help from?” Tikki shot back.

“I thought you wanted to ask your owner.” 

“I’m doing this for my owner.”

Plagg let go of her and froze. After a moment, Tikki noticed and turned towards him. “Will you hurry up? I want to gather everyone and start the plan!”

“What’s wrong with Ladybug? Who do you want to hurt?”

Tikki grew angrier, if that were possible. For once, she was scaring Plagg a little. “Lila Rossi,” she spat.

“What’d she do now?” Plagg yawned losing interest, not again over the lying girl. Plagg didn’t like her either, but he didn’t think there was any reason for them to get so worked up over her.

“Listen, my holder has been feeling alone and she’s been this close to being akumatized. I can’t see her like that anymore.”

“Why is she feeling alone?” Plagg interrupted. “She isn’t expelled anymore.”

“But no one believes in her. And your owner,” Tikki began disapprovingly. Plagg felt himself get angry. 

“Hey, my kid’s doing the best he can. He’s the one that got your kid back to school you know. Otherwise Ladybug would’ve stayed expelled.”

Tikki blinked, a shocked look on her face. “What do you mean? We just saw that photoshoot…”

“The price he had to pay,” Plagg interrupted in a snooty tone. He didn’t appreciate Tikki disregarding how hard Adrien was trying to be there for Marinette. 

Tikki however did not look very impressed. When Plagg pointed it out, she was quick to deny it but it was evident. He had known her for as long as they’d both been in existence. As if she could hide her emotions from him.

“Okay, well...not that I’m not grateful. Being back at school is a little better, but he sold his soul to the devil. For nothing. She’s still making my holder’s life miserable. And your chosen is miserable too. How is this helping anyone?”

Plagg had to admit she was right. Tikki often was. But Adrien hadn’t thought it through. When he’d made the plan, his only goal was to get Marinette exonerated and back at school. He hadn’t realized the power he’d be giving to Lila.

“He really is simple and straightforward, isn’t he?” Tikki remarked, shaking her head.

“Your plan. It’ll help my kid too?” Plagg asked ignoring her question.

Tikki smirked and if that look sent a chill down Plagg’s spine, he’d never tell. “If my plan works, Liar Rossi will wish that she’d never been born.” 

This. This was why you didn’t mess with creation. Some of the most twisted things in existence happened because Tikki was mad. Sure, they’d all blame him but in actuality it was all her fault. 

Did anyone ever ask why he had to sink Atlantis? Or what caused him to knock into the Tower of Pisa? He’d play along, pretending it was all his fault. Really though, he just destroyed when she created too much. Ladybug could cure, but Tikki could do so much more. 

“Let’s go!” Tikki zoomed towards Fu’s place, leaving Plagg racing to catch up. “Hold on! I didn’t even have any cheese!”

                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They’d made it inside quietly enough and had flown straight into the miracle box. “What if there’s an akuma? Like last time?”

“It can wait,” Tikki replied coldly. Plagg shook his head. There really was no stopping her now. 

The others had all stopped in surprise seeing them fly in. Ziggy approached them cautiously. “Is everything okay? What brings the two of you here?”

Plagg gestured for Tikki to go ahead and explain. She nodded and moved in front of him. “I need to speak to Kaalki and Trixx.”

The fox and horse kwamis came out of the crowd. “Hey Tikki, Plagg,” Trixx waved at them curiously. 

Kaalki sniffed. “Go on, I presume you have good reason for coming to me?” 

“You both remember my holder?”

“The new Guardian in training? Yeah, she’s pretty foxy,” Trixx grinned.

“A fine replacement, why do you ask about her? She is your holder,” Kaalki added.

Plagg blinked, shock running through him. Marinette was going to be the next Guardian? Since when? And why was he only hearing about this now?

In his shock, he had zoned out and completely missed what Tikki was telling Kaalki and Trixx. Wait, when had Wayzz come in?

“You agree?” Tikki turned to Plagg, who’d just come to.

“To what? Wait, backtrack. Ladybug is going to be the next Guardian? When was this decided?” He demanded to know.

“A while back,” Roarr told him.

“Yeah, she’s a good one,” Xuppu agreed while bouncing every which way. 

“And none of you told me?” Plagg questioned. 

Tikki rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything later. And she hasn’t become the Guardian. Master just asked her, after the whole mess with that sentimonster and the revival of the temple.”

“But he’d been thinking about it for awhile,” Sass put in. “That’s why he had Ladybug chose new heroes. It was a test to see if she could handle the responsibility. You hadn’t seen it coming?”

Plagg denied it, but the truth was that he had. Fu was getting old and who better than Marinette to take over the job. He just hadn’t expected things to be changing so quickly.

“We can talk about it later. You do agree with the plan, yes?” Wayzz asked Plagg. 

“You’re a part of the plan?” Plagg was completely blank. What plan?

Tikki looked quite frustrated but she managed to calm herself down. “We’ll fill you in as we go along. Just meet me in the top corner of the classroom tomorrow morning. As soon as your chosen gets in. We’ll be starting then.”

Seeing as Tikki had gotten not only himself but also Trixx, Kaalki and Wayzz involved, Plagg was quite excited. He may not know what she was going to do but he couldn’t wait to see her plan in action.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Deadly starstrand and “toxic” people

It’s transparently clear that when Julian asks if we still want the starstrand, even knowing its poisonous properties, that what he really means is: Do we still want him, knowing that he could hurt us? It’s not a subtle metaphor. Not even slightly.

It’s another one of his edgelord theatrics, certainly; it’s not especially original or necessarily deep to try to flirt with someone by employing the “I’m so dangerous~” archetype. But like all of Julian’s theatrics, it has a meaning. You have to draw on what you know, after all. And as we’ll see later on in the story, this isn’t simply donning the trappings of danger for the sake of a seductive aesthetic. Julian really believes that he is dangerous. And he’s not actually okay with that, as much as he tries to pretend otherwise.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the term “toxic person” lately, and this little side story ties in quite neatly to that discussion. The apprentice points out that Julian said that the starstrand’s poison needs to be distilled in order to be potent; this is a simple illustration of the basic principle, “The dose makes the poison.” I think that dosage is actually quite an appropriate concept to bring into play, though I think the relevant related concept is less distillation, but rather sensitization.

When I look back at the “toxic” people in my life, there’s really only been one: my mother. There’s nothing quite like spending the most vulnerable years of your life under the crushing boot of abuse, is there? And enduring that, with little reprieve, for nigh 18 years.

When I reflect on my mother’s behavior in recent years, I often find myself struggling to justify to others how terrible it truly is. After all, I no longer live with her. She cannot physically control me anymore, dictating my living space and when I’m allowed to come and go. A lot of the time, what bothers me these days is no more than a rude gesture, like taking back all of the Christmas presents that she bought for me because I didn’t express sufficient appreciation for them. It is a terribly rude thing to do, yes, but I’m a grown fucking woman. Why should it matter if my mother denies me Christmas presents? I can buy my own presents now.

Other times, what bothers me is nothing more than an inappropriate comment, often some unsolicited advice. Why should it bother me if she nags me about what she believes is the appropriate career path for my partner? Again, it’s terribly rude. It’s inappropriate and disrespectful and annoying. It ignores my partner’s right to self-determination, and it disregards the fact that she has given this advice, and I have acknowledged it, quite a few times already. But it should not feel like a knife is being driven into my soul to hear an inappropriate comment. If anyone else were to say the exact same words that were coming out of her mouth, I would probably laugh, or perhaps smile politely and quickly leave the room.

But that’s the ticket, isn’t it? It’s not someone else, and this isn’t the first time. Whenever she does something irksome, it’s never the first time. She’s been denying me love and autonomy, explicitly and implicitly undermining all aspects of my psychological health, my whole life. It’s one more insult added to a lifetime of injuries; it’s straw after straw after straw being piled on top of a camel whose back has been broken for some years now.

Any of these “poisonings” are things that, individually, a person might be able to withstand with a little to no effort. They do not have massive destructive power inherently. But to someone like me who has been suffering these abuses for years, I find myself nearly brought to tears with unfortunate regularity. My “liver” for this particular variety of abusive behavior, so to speak, is constantly working overtime.

This brings me to my old ex. He was arrogant, took his 4.0 GPA and other markers of academic success for granted, looked down on others who he saw as less intelligent or less virtuous than himself. He frequently took the lead in our relationship, and he employed a variety of different masks in order to make himself more appealing to others, including me...especially me.

Some of these things are inherently troubling, but none of them, I don’t think, are definitive indicators of a truly evil person. None of them are inherently absolute dealbreakers.

But for me, who grew up with a tiger mom who constantly stressed the importance of academic success and whose approval I constantly struggled, but usually failed, to win, the fact that he was academically talented, effortlessly so, and arrogant about these positive qualities, was as catastrophically destructive to me as it was, simultaneously, irresistibly seductive. I became obsessed, often openly, with rectifying what I perceived as my own failings by either using him as a trophy boyfriend (“I may not be that smart, but my boyfriend’s a genius!”) or trying to discover whatever secret he had that enabled him to be not only functional but exceptional. And eventually, these volatilities led to conflict, suffering on both sides, and the end of the relationship, in an unbelievably protracted and painful breakup.

What he had was incredibly, powerfully toxic to me. But I think that a lot of that can be attributed to my particular sensitivity to his particular brand of poison rather than something inherently toxic about him.

I think that this is important to acknowledge, not only because it’s bad to villify people, but also because not all poisons are created equal. Someone once said: “Healers and poisoners are folks with similar skill sets and wildly different philosophies.” x

The very same substance, in differing dosages, applied to different people, can be either salutary or harmful.

I had also been batting around in my brain an idea for a joke post along the lines of, “Millennial/Gen Z love is finding someone with compatible trauma to yours.” But now I begin to think to myself, maybe that just is what love is, period. It’s not novel to say that love is finding someone whose brokenness, whose jagged edges, happen to fit together with yours. I’m sure you can find a myriad of literary musings on this theme. I think, maybe, what has changed is that people are only now starting to talk about this in the (relative) mainstream.

But back to the point: A person who is “toxic” to one might be not only nontoxic to another but actually medicinal. And this is what makes it so brilliantly satisfying that Julian is, in fact, a doctor! Because he does deal with “poisons,” but those poisons are exactly what will heal me. Many (though not all) of the same qualities and actions that made his relationship with Asra a complete dumpsterfire can be shamelessly lavished upon me because I am not only immune to them but ravenous for them.

Anyway, those are my thoughts. Julian is lovely, and the writing in The Arcana is shockingly good sometimes. It has permanently raised the bar for all visual novels for me, which is really unfortunate, because I don’t think I’m going to easily find something like this again.

[peppymint1986]

To Pledge One's Troth

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one Inspired by Emilx311’s Captured Crimson. Same basic idea that the Uchiha have a tendency to carry off people with red eyes, and that Tobirama is sneaking around as a mysterious cloaked ninja. Only he has managed to avoid the Uchiha all the way until adulthood. Also, sorry Indra, but this is my entry for MadaTobi week so go back to your position as honored ancestor.

Slowly sipping one’s tea was a transparent stalling maneuver, but a well-respected one.  What were the Uchiha going to tell him to do?  Hurry up?  That would be unspeakably rude, even for clans that had been feuding as long as theirs had.  So long in fact, that no one even remembered how the conflict had started.

The negotiations, Hashirama had to confess, even if only to himself, were not going well.  When his childhood friend finally agreed to meet him to discuss a possible peace treaty, Hashirama had been over the moon.  Things had even started out well as the pair quickly hammered out an agreement to make official the unspoken rules that had stood since their Fathers deaths.  For example, the hunting of children and non-combatants was now explicitly forbidden.  

Unfortunately, the situation had begun to degenerate almost as soon as the ink on their first policy was dry.  It seemed neither side was willing to forget, much less forgive.  And the idea of willingly giving ground to their ancient enemies?  Unthinkable.  In spite of Hashirama and Madara’s best efforts, it seemed the negotiations would soon fall apart entirely.  And then they would be right back where they started.

It was a good brew, nevertheless Hashirama tasted bile as he stared down into the cloudy liquid in the vain hope it would grant him some sort of inspiration.  Though in truth, he did have one trump card left to play, no matter how his soul railed against it.  

Hashirama wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to forgive himself.  It didn’t matter that Tobirama had given him permission.  That it had been his brother’s idea in the first place.  He still felt like the worse kind of traitor.  Father, he knew, must be rolling in his grave.  Tobirama’s cool, logical voice echoed in his head as though his brother was aware of his inner conflict.  

‘There are worse things in life than a lawful marriage anija.’

‘And what if you succeed?  Will I be a prisoner in my own home?’

Then there was perhaps the most damning of all.  ‘To be a shinobi, is to sacrifice,’ and no one could argue Tobirama did not do his duty.

Forcing himself to relax, Hashirama swallowed hard before schooling his features into a neutral expression.  “The Senju,” he said formally.  “Are prepared to offer a sign of our goodwill, in the hopes our clans will one day be as brothers.”

Madara caught on to what his rival was implying almost immediately.  He would deny it until his dying day, but he was disappointed in his old friend.  With a different clan, it probably would have worked.  But here?  Now?  He had thought Hashirama knew him better than that.

“A generous offer,” Madara returned neutrally, still hoping he could salvage the situation.  “However the Uchiha do not wed for politics, and I could never ask one of my kinsman to make such a sacrifice.”

“I am aware.”

Left brow twitching violently, Madara resisted the urge to dive across the table and strangle his childhood friend.  That utter moron.  If he had known, than why . . .

Hashirama tried to smile, failed.  “You see Madara, my brother.”  He swallowed hard.

Madara’s eyes automatically slid back and to the left towards where Kawarama stood glaring at Izuna; who was of course happy to glare right back.

“Not Kawa,” Hashirama said seeing the look.  “And not Itama, our other brother.”

“You mean,” Madara paused, searching his memory for the other’s name only to come up blank.  He shifted uncomfortably, a frown tugging on his features.  “The um, sickly one.”

This time Hashirama did smile, though it wasn’t a happy expression.  “He isn’t sick.  Tobirama,” he said with a soft intensity.  “Is an excellent ninja.”  Better than him in many ways.  “And much beloved by the clan.”

Firmly, Madara reminded himself he didn’t actually want Hashirama dead.  Still, when he remembered all the arguments within his clan over this matter, the shouting matches about how they could never trust a clan who so easily disregarded their own kin.  And now, NOW! Hashirama was saying that the rumors weren’t even true.  

“Then why?!” he demanded, barely managing to prevent his sharigan from activating.

Hashirama didn’t even seem to notice, too lost in his own head.  “Because,” he answered head bowed.  “Tobirama has red eyes.”  Strong fingers clenched on the edge of the table as he forced himself to go on.  “If,” he stated firmly.  “The Senju and Uchiha clans can come to an agreement; my brother will stay with you as your guest for six months.  He will allow your kin to court him, and he will wed the Uchiha of his choice.”

This time, Madara wasn’t the only one staring at the Senju clan head with wide eyes.  Those blessed by the goddess Amaterasu were rare.  Only two or three per generation.  On rare occasions more, and many times less.  Slowly, he exhaled.  If this was true, and he had no reason to think it wasn’t, than matters had changed a great deal.

“You understand of course,” Madara said regaining his composure even as he considered new possibilities.  “I would need to meet him.”  The Uchiha would never believe it otherwise.  

Whatever uncertainty Hashirama had been feeling earlier had evidently left him as he stared fearlessly into his rival’s eyes.  “That is entirely dependent on my brother being allowed to leave afterwards.”  No one had to remind him of the Uchiha Clan’s reputation of kidnapping those with red eyes.  It had been his greatest nightmare for as long as he could remember, even worse than one of his brothers dying in battle.  At least then he would know.  

The Senju leaned forward, making absolutely no effort to appear harmless.  “Know this Madara, regardless of the outcome of these negotiations, the Senju will never allow one of our own to simply vanish.”

After several long moments Madara nodded in agreement.  “Very well.”

“Aniki!” Izuna objected stepping forward.  It was their duty to protect the blessed wherever they were found.  How could his brother agree to simply let one leave, Senju or no?

“Izuna,” Madara said warningly.  It was just for today.  He was confident the blessed one would be safe among their clan soon enough.  

Dark eyes searched his old friend’s face.  Whatever he was looking for, he found it.  “Touka,”Hashirama called barely raising his voice.

The woman looked furious.  In spite of this, she obeyed, turning to vanish into the forest.  She wasn’t gone long, almost immediately reappearing accompanied by a tall cloaked figure.

Madara had only seen the other once before.  A brief glimpse years ago and at a distance.  Nevertheless, he recognized the new arrival immediately, and he was not the only one.  The White Ghost.  Briefly he considered that this was all a trap, a way to get the infamous phantom close enough to strike.  Such thoughts were immediately disregarded even as Hashirama stood, gesturing the figure closer.

“Tobirama.”

And then, the Ghost threw back his hood.

Madara’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as he wildly wondered if Kisshōten had blessed the Senju as well.  Tall and slender, Tobirama moved with a grace uncommon even in other shinobi.  Moon kissed skin, silvery-white hair, and of course those piercing crimson eyes.  Hashirama’s brother was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

That was when Madara decided.  He would be generous; he would allow his kin to court the other.  But in the end, Tobirama would marry him.

[darthmelyanna]

1. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may-” The alarm on her headset begins to beep wildly, and Elizabeth sighs in frustration, slamming the book shut even as she reaches for the device. It’s the first evening in a long while that she’s had time to relax in her room, and she had been looking forward to starting her annual re-read of her favourite book.

2. ‘Situation?’ she barks down the line, sliding from bed and changing from pyjamas to uniform with the speed of someone who has dealt with emergencies far too many times. ‘Elizabeth,’ John’s voice bursts through. ‘Sorry to disturb, but there’s a scientist who has some troubling news for us. Think you better get up here.’ She’s still shoving her foot into a shoe as she forces her weary body back out of her room. ‘On my way,’ she confirms, taking the stairs two at a time.

3. The night shift is in full swing when she arrives at the control center, and everyone looks at her in surprise for a moment before trying to look busy all of a sudden, clearly not expecting to see her up here on her evening off. ‘Anyone seen Colonel Sheppard?’ she demands, and one of the young gate technicians points towards a large meeting room nearby, whilst attempting to hide playing cards in his other hand. She manages to raise an eyebrow at him as she passes.

4. John is not alone when she arrives in the meeting room; beside him is a nervous-looking scientist, clutching a folder with one arm whilst running a shaking hand through her hair with another. ‘Colonel,’ she says, and he gives her a brief smile and nod before her attention turns the scientist. ‘Dr Ravichandran,’ she notes, remembering the woman’s profile in the back of her mind. ‘What appears to be the issue here?’ There is silence for a moment, and then John sighs, clearly done with waiting.

5. ‘The good doctor was just informing me of some very troubling accusations against her colleagues,’ he prompts. Elizabeth takes a moment to mourn for her bed, with visions of a long night ahead, and then snaps into business. ‘Tell me everything,’ she demands, and this seems to push the scientist into action. ‘Dr-Dr Weir, I would have come to you earlier, but I’ve only just discovered this myself,’ she says, handing over the file. Elizabeth flips it open and begins to scan the papers within.

6. Words jump off the pages at her, and they form a very concerning picture. ‘It appears Collins and Peterson did not take my denial of their request seriously,’ she says, her voice hard. She can even recall the exact experiment they wanted to do – and the dangerous Ancient technology they wanted to perform it on. ‘Do we know where?’ Dr Ravichandran begins gesturing towards the door, and Elizabeth allows her to explain to John the location of the laboratory whilst she continues to read.

7. John says something rapidly over his headset, and in a minute, Lorne appears with Lieutenant Johnson trailing behind. ‘Thank you, doctor,’ Elizabeth takes a moment to say, as John starts to brief the men behind her. ‘I know coming forwards against your colleagues is difficult. You’ve done enough now though, so please go back to your quarters and I’ll let you know in the morning how it all went.’ She’s gripping the folder so tightly that her knuckles are white, and anger continues to build.

8. ‘I want this shut down now,’ she snaps at John, as they make their way towards the area of the city hiding the laboratory. John grimaces. ‘I didn’t understand all of their scientific scribbling, but I gather Ancient technology and illicit testing is not going to make a good combination,’ he says, and she shakes her head. ‘I denied them for a reason. Low chance of success, and very little gain compared to the risk. Besides, in the case of failure, they could blow themselves up.’

9. When they arrive at the lab, John gestures for her to stand back. The next instant, Lorne kicks down the door, and the three of them sweep inside, leaving Elizabeth behind. She hears the sound of indignant voices, and pauses for moment before entering. Collins and Peterson are standing in a corner, trapped and arguing angrily with John. Lorne and Johnson are busy gathering several other scientists together. Elizabeth memorizes their faces, disappointed with how many people are involved.

10. ‘Where is it?’ she demands, glancing over at Collins and Peterson. Peterson snarls slightly at her, and John places a warning hand on his shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t go back there,’ Collins says, and she brushes past, opening the next door and stepping into the room beyond. The technology lies on a table in the middle of the room, innocuous if not for the sudden alarm that fills the air as soon as the door had been opened. In a split second, she realizes what is about to happen.

11. ‘Everyone get down,’ she yells, flinging herself back through the doorway. John takes one look at her panicked expression, and moves towards her, arm reaching out. The last thing she feels is his hand grasping her wrist, trying to pull her forwards, before an explosion fills the air. Then there is darkness, and she knows no more.

12. The gentle murmur of voices finally break through her consciousness. It seems difficult to open her eyes, but someone squeezes her hand gently, and finally she manages to blink. Beckett’s face swims into view. ‘Gave us a bit of a fright,’ he says, smiling when she makes a vague noise in response. John is sat next to her, his face peppered in small cuts. ‘Superficial,’ he tells her, when he senses her gaze. His fingers are linked loosely with hers, although he doesn’t seem to notice.

13. ‘The others are all fine too,’ he continues. ‘Patched up and sent on their way – which includes the holding cell, for most of them. We can deal with them once you’re out of here.’ Carson finishes with his examination, and pulls back. ‘You were lucky,’ he tells her, handing her a glass of water and helping her take a sip. ‘Concussion and a broken ankle, along with some cuts and bruises. You managed to slam the door behind you, which kept everyone protected from the worst of the blast.’

14. ‘You’re going to have to stay here for a few days though. I need to keep an eye on that head injury throughout the night, and you need the rest. No, don’t look at me like that.’ Elizabeth doesn’t even realize she’s frowning, but sighs in defeat as Beckett wander away, shaking his head. ‘It’s OK, I’ll keep you company,’ John says from his place beside her. He tightens his hold on her hand, and then raises his other arm to wave around a book. ‘Hope you don’t mind my breaking and entering.’

15. In response, Elizabeth simply shuffles lower into the bed, closing her eyes and humming slightly. Her body is already beginning to feel the pain creeping through the fog of the painkillers, but she pushes that aside. Instead, she falls asleep to the sound of his warm voice. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” (Little gift for a trip down memory lane – ABFA x)

*

What a wonderful surprise, ABFA! I love all the little details in this—the card playing in the control room, Elizabeth getting dressed in a hurry, the whistleblower’s nervousness—and of course John’s utter disregard for Elizabeth’s personal space. ;)

Thank you so much, anon! Always a pleasure.

[notlikeotherbirds]

Mamihlapinatiopai

Based on this I wrote a thing. Hope you enjoy

They sat at the Ritz, somehow sitting at the same table as always without making a reservation. That wasn't really the weird thing, miraculous-yes but not weird. The weird thing was how the staff seemed to not have picked up on it yet. Or at least they never mentioned it. But then again they never scolded them anymore for not making a reservation, telling them they were lucky that a table was miraculously free (with which they would have been right) so maybe they did pick up on it. But never the less here they sat. For the 4th time this month already. Aziraphale was just finishing his desert revelling in the taste of the bite. They talked about something, it didn't really matter, maybe a book that Aziraphale found somewhere or maybe a shared memory of a person long dead and a time long gone. What was important was that Aziraphale talked and Crowley listened, leaning on his arms slightly leaning towards the other. What mattered was that they were here together. They might have denied that if you had asked them, saying it was for the food or the social interaction or their shared history. But really all of those things, while being nice, were mere a bonus to what they really got out of this. The company of the other. Crowley watched Aziraphale talk hiding his eyes behind his sunglasses and hoping to hide his comfort in the situation behind it too. He really mustn’t show his affection he told himself, while also not really making the extra effort of not leaning in when Aziraphale spoke and not spending every second of his free time with the angel (Not that he had anything but free time anymore) and not constantly making up excuses to be around the angel. It was for safety of course, that they spend so much time together. Two were stronger than one after all (Crowley blatantly ignored the fact that if it really came down to it they wouldn’t stand a chance, he really couldn’t stand that thought). But even if he might spend a lot of time with the angel and even if that was the only time that mattered to him and even if he was miserable whenever the angel wasn’t around that didn’t mean Crowley would ever do anything about any of it. Really he had spent 6000 years ignoring the hell out of his feelings (What self-respecting demon had feelings anyway) and he wouldn’t change that now. Anyways the angel probably didn’t feel the same about Crowley anyway. He had stated more than once that they were enemies and enemies don’t like each other. And even if he did, it was how Aziraphale had said before they were an angel and a demon, even if they were both disregarded from their respective head offices. It would be disastrous if someone were to make a move, wouldn't it. Crowley shifted a little closer to Aziraphale. Yes absolutely disastrous.

Aziraphale talked and Crowley listened. Aziraphale liked how the demon always bent his way a little when he told him something. Not that he would admit that. But it was nice having someone who listened to you, who didn't disregard your interests. But that was all, he needed someone who would listen so he didn't have to talk to himself. It was definitely not that he kept talking to see Crowley loosen up a bit tilt his body in a way that made it not so unbelievable that he used to be a snake, see him get comfortable enough for that little smile to crawl on his lips and lighten up his face. No that would be ludicrous. He shouldn't think things like that. Demon and Angel he reminded himself. Yes they were enemies who ate together occasionally and helped each other out now and then and maybe averted the apocalypse together but really what was that if not helping each other. And really would it be so bad if Aziraphale liked Crowley? I mean the whole love thy enemy was a big thing in the realms of heaven. He was a being of love after all, it would be against his nature to hate anything. It was really just the general love of everything that the Almighty had given the angels that also applied to Crowley since he was a part of the big everything. No more than that. Anything else would have been dangerous after all, She saw everything didn't She, or was that Santa Claus? Irrelevant since there was nothing to see anyhow.

Crowley shifted closer to Aziraphale and he responded despite himself (or maybe not despite himself but just because he wanted to) by shifting a little closer too and gesturing wildly between them to emphasize whatever he was saying.

After they paid the check and left for the Bentley parked outside Aziraphale asked: "Do you fancy coming over to the bookshop? I have some bottles of excellent wine that would be wasted if drunken alone." Crowley's eyes lit up, not that Aziraphale or anyone else would have noticed, since he was wearing sunglasses. And Crowley really didn't want anyone to notice either. He had a reputation as a demon. And he definitely did not want the angel to see, he might get the wrong idea (or the right one). "Sure, don't see why not, alcohol is always an answer." He responded sure to emphasize the reason that was completely irrelevant and not mention the actual reason why he accepted. The drive was as always, Crowley purposefully ignoring the traffic regulations and Aziraphale complaining helplessly about it. Arriving at the bookshop Crowley almost hesitated, waiting for a sign that the offer didn't stand anymore waiting for a goodbye and a wave off but Aziraphale just headed straight for the bookshop, convinced that Crowley was right behind him, never even bothering to stop the conversation they held during the car ride (even though it was continuously interrupted by their driving bickering). When Crowley didn't answer to what Aziraphale had just said he stopped and turned around, seeing Crowley still at the Bentley. "Are you not coming, dear?" he said more anxious that he would care to admit. For Crowley this was more than enough of an invitation and he left the Bentley for the Angel and his Bookshop.

Inside they continued the conversation and their little pretend game. Pretending to not be interested (not very good at that one), pretending to not see the others interest (they were frustratingly good at that one) and pretending that they would be fine with the relationship stayed like this for another few thousand years. Although they both knew that they might not have that time or the patience for that, as a matter of fact. And they might have won some time and some freedom since the Armageddidn’t but with that they had lost an important excuse as to why they really shouldn’t make a move.

Crowley wasn’t dumb. He might have been an idiot and at times very incompetent but he wasn’t dumb. And he wasn’t blind he saw, of course, how the angel reacted to him. Both the loving, longing (wasn’t that a sin?) looks and the happiness that danced across his face when Crowley did the exact right things (buy him food, listen, be interested, occasionally do him a favour, be less mean than expected, save him, save his books, the little things). But Crowley also saw the rejection, the fear, the apprehension when Crowley moved to fast or said something that reminded the angel of their positions. So if Crowley wanted this to last he would have to be patient, as he always had been, and hope that the angel received his messages of love and affection (after all he should be able to sense love shouldn’t he?) and decided to respond to them. And oh how he longed for Aziraphale to respond.

Aziraphale was not dumb either. He was actually quite intellectual. And even if he might not be the most up to date on things 21st Century he was very up to date on feelings of affection and ways of showing them even in this time and age. He knew about emojis and sexting and dating apps and kinks and slut shaming and Fuckboys. He was very well informed on everything love, lust and sex related. He had a membership in a gay club and was a big defender of ace and bi visibility and cared for the decriminalising of sex work quite a lot. And yes of course he knew about pornography, unlike some other angels who didn’t seem to take the whole ‘being of love’ very seriously. So of course he picked up on Crowley’s love language ages ago. And yes, he could sense his love, it was hard to miss after all. It would have been hard to miss even if he could not have felt it like a 6th sense. The dear boy was not as subtle as he wished to be, despite his best efforts. So technically he knew about Crowley’s affection for him. But it was one thing to know something but a different thing to believe something. But wasn’t believing his whole thing as an angel? Well that all got way more complicated as soon as Crowley came into the picture. Asking questions Aziraphale could not answer, questioned choices Aziraphale had no control over whether he liked them or not, sparking feelings he really should not be having, making him feel at home in a way heaven never managed. Believing and Crowley did not go well together in Aziraphale’s mind. But even if he were to believe a demon were to be able to love an angel and even if he were to believe that the demon was Crowley and the angel was him, knowing and believing something was still something very different than acting on all of this. Because even if in some hypothetical (Aziraphale was good with those) he were to love a demon and that demon were to love him back, how could he tell him. Really, angels were not the kind of beings that went out there and started engaging with people, asking things of them, taking up space in someone else’s world. Angels were silent string-pullers, they blessed people, gave people strength to act on their good ideas. They were givers. If someone asked something of an angel it was very likely that they would receive. Angels gave love and hope and blessings and strength and such but they did not ask for things. That was not very angel-like. They did not ask questions and they did not ask favours. They did not ask for comfort and they did not ask for love. So Aziraphale would not ask. He was on thin ice anyway and under the ice was no water but a long fall and then boiling sulphur and to be completely honest he was not keen on crossing the line that would break the ice that would at last make the Almighty see what a bad angel he really was. If loving a demon would not cross that line, asking for a demons love surely would. So he really needed Crowley to initiate the whole thing. Because if he was asked he could give and really who could say anything about that. So he would just hope for Crowley to at last toughen up a bit and ask him already. Really any amount of asking would be enough he could work with about anything. He just really couldn’t initiate.

So they stayed how they had been for 6000 years. Keeping each other closer than anyone else. Trusting each other more than anyone else. But keeping a distance. Enough to fool certain supernatural entities. And maybe themselves. And maybe each other. They stayed where they were, across from each other at the table and on separate Sofas in Aziraphale’s Bookshop. Maybe moving closer an inch or so every century. And maybe if they had another 6000 years they would just naturally drift so close to each other, that that distance would be gone. But who knows how much time they had left? God probably, with Her ineffable plan and Her unknowable playing rules. But you really couldn’t ask her now could you. So maybe they should, in Aziraphale’s words ‘get a bit of a wiggle on’ and cross that distance now. They might not make it otherwise.

But for now they sat in Aziraphale’s bookshop and drank whine and pretended not to be in love with each other. Hoping that the other would see through their bullshit and see how desperately they wished for the other to know and to do something about it.

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

the party (part two)

"I'm serious anybody could come snatch him up. Sharon, Thor-" Bucky reflexively glanced over where Thor was talking to a completely enthralled Peter. "Nat, Couls-" Sam droned on listing person after person.

"Sam don't be ridiculous." Bucky rolled his eyes.

"on. That long haired homeless man that stares at him." That caught Bucky's attention. He seemed on guard and looking for an attack. "He creeps me out. He always seems up to something. I think he's got a thing for Steve or som-"

"What man? Where did you see him? Did he look dangerous? Did he talk to Steve? Did Steve talk to him?" His questions came out nearly as fast as his explanations to ma Rogers used to. She always said speed is what gave him away. When he finished his assault of questions he paused his intentful stare at Sam to habitually check on Steve who was walking away from the bar.

"Look for yourself." Sam pointed to the wall behind the bar... which was a mirror.

"Sam I don-" Bucky's confused face met Sam's shit eating grin. The wrinkles on Bucky's forehead smoothed and his jaw clenched. "Very funny Wilson." Sam was always hinting at something between them. So was Tony he always said since he came back Steve wasn't in their relationship as much, and that he was why it ended. He wished that were true. Sam had become more insistent lately though. But him and Bucky have been friends long enough, long enough with Steve to get it all the time, and long enough with Sam that Bucky lets it slide. Besides they joke and tease each other about everything if Bucky told him to stop he'd have to explain why.

Sam nodded. "Yes I agree. It is very funny how you even thought that was a joke. Come on man, you need to get a haircut. You look like cousin it and repunzel had a ugly ass baby." As the bartender walked by Sam tapped the bar to order a round of shots.

"Keep talking Wilson I'll go back into your apartment and leave an even better suprise this time."

"Don't even joke about that! I'm still beyond pissed at you."

"Yeah? Tell me are you also still cleaning bird shit and feathers out of your carpet?"

"Barnes you ass it was fourty three birds of fucking course I still am!"

"Well you deserved it." Bucky smiled wistfully at his past prank. Sam was indeed still pissed and had enough to drink that his filter wasn't quite fast enough.

"Oh yeah why? Because I told the truth about you not even being able to smell bullshit anymore because of how long you've been up Steve's ass?" Bucky seemed shocked and he tensed up, but Sam had started and he had had enough of their crap. "Cuz that's what this little dance you do around each other is. It's bullshit." Bucky went to open his mouth. "Don't even try and deny it. We all know you've been inlove with each other since the good'ol days when you were The Captain and The Howling Commandos fighting the war. And we all know you're both unable to admit it." Sam sobered up too late. When he saw Bucky's blank face he knew tipsy or not he went too far. "Hey man I didn-"

"You're wrong."

"Alright I'm sor-"

"I've been in love with him ever since he was just a punk kid fighting bullies. And you're wrong about one other thing too." Bucky's face looked the kind of pained that only soul crushing heartbreak could bring. Bucky looked down at his drink. "I did tell him." He finished his newly acquired shot and turned back to Sam with a smile so fake and hurt it made Sam feel shittier than his apartment carpet.

Bucky continued. "One night Steve got the shit beat out of him. I had to drag him out of the alley bloody. Nothing out of the normal, but this time he convinced me to take shots with him. He said it was for the pain. He's always been a crafty little shit. Well pretty soon we drank enough giggle juice we were both tipsy. And I kissed him. Then he made me promise I would never do anything like it again, cuz it was a sin." Bucky let out a heartless scoff.

"Bucky he was drunk may-" Bucky cut him off blankly.

"Yeah that's what I thought too. So before I left for the war I told him again. That night was a fluke normally I would never be brave enough to say how I felt, but leaving for the war I knew I wouldn't make it back to him so I told him, the morning I left. He said I'd need God to watch out for me so I shouldn't go saying stuff like that. He also said I'd find a doll and settle down some day after the war. And I was okay with it." Bucky shrugged his shoulders with an air of acceptance.

"I had gone to church with Steve and his ma. I knew what he was raised to believe. I knew it was wrong in his eyes, and I was okay with it. I knew the times we lived in, so I was okay with it. I was okay with it because if I was dying it wouldn't matter, I'd be better if he didn't actually he could move on. I was okay when he rescued me. I was okay when he fell inlove with Peggy. But after my fall after... after hydra, after Germany I found out about him and Tony." His eyes were too red and glossy for Sam to believe that the party was continuing on around them without a care.

"When I found out, I knew he had gotten over thinking it was wrong, so I told him again. I told him I remembered kissing him in our little studio apartment, the kiss that tasted of whiskey. And you know what he said Sam?"

Sam braced for whatever terrible words that had a tear rolling down Bucky's cheek.

"'You're remembering wrong buck. Hydra did that to you.'" Bucky quoted with a clarity that only comes from repeating words over and over till you have them ingrained in your brain.

Sam's mouth involuntarily opened.

"I believed him too. Intill I was looking for a photo one day and in an old box I found the cap to the whiskey bottle, it still had the dent from when Steve threw it across the room missing the garbage. So you see Sam I did tell him. And he finally realized it isn't wrong. He just doesn't love me that way. Sometimes it seems like he does but he doesn't. He doesn't love me the way I love him and he would rather tell that horrible of a lie than have to say it to my face."

"I'm sorry Bucky I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No it's okay. It's all okay. I still love him and he still loves me." Bucky said all of it with a steady even tone, but in his eyes you could tell none of what he said meant what it was supposed to.

Steve POV

Steve could sense someone jogging up behind him interrupting his conversation with Maria. "Mr. Captain America Steven Rogers sir. I hav-" Steve turned around just intime to see a flurry of hands moving.

"Queens I told you to just call me Steve." Maria, sensing this would be a long conversation, walked away.

"Steve sir I have a glass of champagne for you. Well it might be warm now. And I think some of the bubbles are gone. I ran into Thor and we started talking abo-"

"Peter. How did you even get alcohol? I thought that Pepper told the bartenders to disregard Tony's approval of them giving you alcohol."

"Well she did, which he wasn't too happy about. But they didn't give me alcohol."

Steve glanced at the glass that was getting less and less full as Peter gestured wildly.

"Really?" He said equably.

"Well I mean I guess they saw me get it, but they didn't give it to me. Mr. Stark did."

"And why exactly are you giving it to me if Stark gave it to you?"

"Oh well he said to. Didn't I start there? I thought I did. Maybe I didn't. Did I tell you that he also told me to tell you that you should loosen up? Or something like that. Oh well I gue-"

Steve took the less than half full, warm, flat glass from him. "Thank you Peter. Did you know Clint asked if you'd make a webbing arrow for him?"

Peter's eyes widened. "Hawkeye wants me to make him an arrow."

Steve pointed up to where Clint was. "I don't know for sure you should go ask him."

Peter's head bobbed up and down. "Thank you Captain Am-" Peter cut himself off and did finger guns at Steve. "Steve sir."

"Thank you Peter for the champagne, goodbye." Steve said to the back of Peter's head as he was bumping into people trying to make his way through the party crowd.

Steve laughed and shook his head while looking down at the glass. When he looked up he caught sight of Tony out on the balcony. With another drink on his hand. Steve looked down at the glass Tony sent over and then over to one he wanted to take out of his hands before. Looking inbetween the two he wondered what was the difference. If Tony could send over a glass and tell him to loosen up, he could take one and put his friend to bed.

Platonically.

They were still friends and Steve still cared about him. They both could care for each other still in their own ways, and maybe a part of him wasn't ready to say goodbye to them taking care of each other. Maybe he wanted to be needed. Maybe he wanted to worry about someone he could help. Not Captain America, but Steve. Maybe Steve needed to love and be loved. Maybe Steve needed something he wouldn't lose or break.

Natasha's voice yelling words above the chatter of the crowd pulled Steve's head up, and after following her line of sight he realized it wasn't words but a name repeated. James. Bucky left the bar and made his way over to her.

He was about to follow him when he remembered the glass. He looked back towards the balcony and decided to head out there first he could find Bucky after. He tried to get out there fast, but he kept being stopped by people who wanted to talk. He finally was at the door.

Bucky POV

Bucky was wondering if his serum was failing him and he was susceptible to the effects of alcohol again, because at the sight of Steve trying so hard to get out on that balcony with Tony his stomach was wanting to find the nearest garbage can.

"James are you alright?"

He turned back with a grin. "Of course Natalia."

They both got lost in the conversation again telling the usual kinds of stories about missions, modern times, and Steve.

"I'm not kidding he jumped out without a parachute."

"That punk!" Bucky said exasperated but without a drop of disbelief and a smile.

Natasha smiled and her eyes lit up in a way that let you know this was going to be good. "Hey did I ever tell you about that time Steve legit fell out of a fucking tree trying to rescue a stuck kitten? How cliche can he be."

Bucky let out a loud open laugh. "Did I ever tell you that's not the first time that has happened?"

"No way. I though 'mister gee golly here's your cat dollface' couldn't get any more pathetic."

"He was nine and he broke his arm and he fell on me and he didn't get the cat. Mr. Snuffles jumped down on his own."

"That is gold. Keep talking. Was the little old lady cat owner upset?"

"No, actually the cat belonged to a classmate, Karen. Steve had a crush on her. She was upset he got hurt. So she kissed him on the cheek for his bravery. Told him that it's okay he didn't get the cat at least he was brave. But then she had to get Mr. Suffles back, so I took him home myself like always. And he complained the entire way. Not about the pain, about how he almost impressed her." Bucky said with a roll of his eyes.

"So here we are I'm limping down the street cuz when he fell I tried to catch him which all that got me was a sprained ankle. So I'm opening doors and Stevies holding me up, and he's just going on and on about how he almost had the cat. And then he says 'Gee I guess next time I shouldn't try to grab it by the tail.'"

Natasha burst out laughing.

"And I was so done I wanted to leave his scrawny ass there and I would've if I didn't think his ma would kill me. So I just said 'Steve I hope to God you didn't hit your head cuz you can't afford to lose anymore brains.' And he just went right on back to belly achin about her, and saying he hopes the cat is okay, and maybe if he'd have gotten it down she would've kissed him proper."

Bucky's wide smile was starting to hurt his flushed cheeks.

"So we're still a couple blocks from home taking a short cut through an alley, I've had enough at this point so I say. 'Would you shut up if you would've gotten a kiss on the lips for your bravery?' Well his face turned a darker shade of pink than the heat had given him. Then he said yeah he'd be so happy he wouldn't know what to say."

Bucky took another swig from the silver flask engraved with 'T.O.' Nat had given him.

"So I kissed him in that alley and told him to shut the hell up." Nat's face flashed with suprise then a knowing grin.

"He was cherry red and didn't say another peep the entire way home." Bucky seemed to be reliving his previous victory and took another giant gulp.

"Okay easy there tiger. That isn't Jim Beam." Natasha tried to take the flask from him.

"Hey Natalia what do you think he'd do if I kissed him now?" Bucky giggled and looked down. "I think he'd turn as red as his shield."

Natasha's face went serious. "James I think I should take you to your room." She moved to help him. Bucky looked back up and was wearing a matching grave expression.

"I think he'd hate me." They held eyes for a bit standing in the tenseness of that moment, Nat with her hands outstretched to guide him and Bucky with a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Bucky was giggling now so Nat snapped back to what she was doing.

"James let's get you to your room." She put one of his arms over her shoulders as she pulled him up straight and toward the door.

"Nat I don't want to go. I only came to this party to see Steve and I haven't seen him yet." He looked up at her from where he was slumped down at her side and batted his eyelashes.

"Let's go lover boy. One foot infront of the other." They were half way to the door when Steve appeared blocking their path.

"What happened? Is he drugged? Is he hallucinating again?" At the sight of Steve he stood up straight, and Natasha suspiciously was able to let go of his arm.

"Steve." Bucky said while smiling at him.

"No he's drunk." Steve looked at her confused.

"Drunk? We can't get drunk." Bucky was looking every where except at them waiting for the conversation to be over.

"He had a couple sips from Thor's flask."

"Even then it took me a couple glasses to even get buzzed." Bucky was finding the chandelier above them particularly interesting. Nat tilted her head and made a considering look.

"Huh that's interesting. Maybe it's because of the difference in serums. I'd make sense if he was less tolerant than you." Steve nodded accepting this theory. Bucky looked back down at her.

"Okay let's get him to sleep." Steve started walking closer to help Bucky.

"You should get him a bottle of water from the bar while we're here." Steve nodded and left.

Natasha whirled to face Bucky with a hard glare. "Alright Barnes I don't know why you thought you had to play drunk to talk to me honestly, and I don't care right now. You need to stop this."

Bucky looked spiteful. "Why Natalia? Why do I need to stop?"

"Because if you want to say something so badly that you're willing to try and trick me into listening, maybe you should be saying it to the person you actually want to be hearing it. And I don't fin-"

"Drink some of this." Steve handed Bucky the water as fast as he'd rushed back over. Bucky grinned and moved closer to Steve.

"Thans buddy. Iss nice of ya." Bucky said slurring his words while trying to grab the bottle, and missing.

"Okay definitely time we called it a night. Have a good time Nat."

"You boys too. Maybe if James could get a few words out you could've had a good night too." Natasha gave Bucky a smile that he could tell was every bit a double edge sword as her words.

"That's okay I'm tired anyway. Come on Buck." He assumed the position Natasha had previously filled. Bucky draped himself across Steve, letting himself be led out of the room.

Steve pushed open Bucky's room door while stuggling not to drop the water bottle or Bucky.

"There we go. Alright let's get ready for bed." He gently set Bucky down on the bed, and looked down at him. "I thought we were done with these days when neither of us could get drunk anymore." He said with a laugh.

"I'm sawrry Stevie." Bucky slurred with a pout as he swayed where he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. Steve knelt inbetween Bucky's legs and looked up at him as he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. He gently laid his hand on Bucky's cheek.

"Don't be sorry Buck it's okay. I'm here." His thumb started brushing along Bucky's cheekbone and Bucky melted into it as his eyes fluttered shut. "We have to take your dress shoes off." Steve's hand was no longer supporting his head, he snapped back into the moment seeing Steve unlace his shoes.

"We can go bed. No. Wait. We can go to bed. Yes let's go bed." Steve smiled at him adoringly as he pulled off his shoes.

"No Buck we have to get ready for bed first." He pulled Bucky's hand to stretch it out and pulled his suit coat sleeve. He repeated the process with the other arm. Bucky left his arms stretched out on both sides of Steve's head, and Steve chuckled. He grabbed his right hand and kissed his knuckles before setting it on his lap. His left hand was cool on his lips and he had to hold on as Bucky tried to pull away. After both hands were in his lap Steve smiled at him and started with his shirt and tie.

Bucky decided to take Natasha's advice. He mustered up all the courage he could. "Hey Stevie?"

"Yeah Buck?"

Bucky looked down at Steve's face. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Steve's hands paused on the button he was unbuttoning, but he didn't look away from it.

"I'd tell you to sleep it off." He resumed his work.

There was a beat of silence.

"And what if I kissed you in the morning?" This time Steve's hands dropped to his sides.

"I'd deal with it in the morning."

Bucky decided to punch Natasha in the gut next time he saw her, so she could feel how it felt. "Okay."

As Steve finished the buttons the tenseness faded. Steve undid his belt before speaking. "Alright you're going to have to work with me. This is always where we ended up on the floor. Lie back."

Bucky seemed to not hear him, because he made no movements. "Stevie I can stand up."

Steve leveled him with a look that said 'oh really that's what you always say and why we end up on the floor'. Steve stood up and put his right knee on the bed beside Bucky. He put his right hand behind Bucky's head and cradled it and his other arm on Bucky's right shoulder.

"Lie back." He whispered loud enough for him to hear. Bucky sat dumbstruck not knowing what was happening while looking up at Steve. He pushed on Bucky's shoulder, and gently guided his head down as Bucky went pliant in his hands. The hand that was on his shoulder moved to the bed so Steve could keep his balance hovering over him his other hand still tangled in his hair.

They both just stared at each others faces with looks of vulnerability. Bucky's mouth was so dry he wondered if he could even speak.

"Is this what you meant?" Bucky let out softly. Steve was staring at Bucky's close face with a sense of uncertainty.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah Buck this is what I meant." As Steve quietly answered Bucky looked down at his moving lips, and then back up to his eyes.

"Okay." Bucky swallowed hard from the tension of not knowing what to do next. Steve's eyes wandered his face and he stayed under him waiting. Steve's eyes landed on his mouth which snapped him out of his stare. He got off Bucky hurriedly. He was back to half kneeling on the bed.

"Right, pants. We need to-" Bucky followed his movements on instinct not wanting to have distance. Steve put a hand on his chest. "No. Stay." He said firmly. Bucky looked at him through his lashes and submissively went back on his elbows.

Bucky's heart started pounding as Steve unbuttoned his pants. As soon as Steve finished with the button he looked back down at Bucky. He trailed his right hand over to Bucky's hip and hooked a belt loop with the other hand. "Up." He said as he pulled Bucky's hip up to his and yanked his pants down with the other. Once they were passed his ass Steve guided Bucky back down and unhooked his fingers. Steve's hands gripped around his thighs to drag his pants all the way off and Bucky gasped. Steve looked down and finished sliding his hands down Bucky's thighs. Bucky closed his eyes and imagined that Steve wasn't doing this just to put him to bed.

"You um," Bucky cleared his throat. "You do this to everyone at Stark's parties, or am I special?" Steve stiffened.

"No I don't." Steve said tensely as he gathered Bucky's clothes from the floor.

"Oh yeah then am I special?" Bucky said in a hopeful tone that was supposed to be more play than it was.

"You're drunk Bucky." Steve said as he turned to put Bucky's clothes away. Bucky sat up angry.

"If you don't want to be here then leave Steve." After he finished he came back from the closet to the dresser.

"Do you want a t-shirt or a tank top?"

"Steve I said leave." Bucky spat back.

He turned back around with a tank top and threw a pair of joggers on the bed. "No you said if I didn't want to be here then leave, but I'm still here. Because I want to be."

Bucky looked at him with venom in his eyes. "Do you? Do you want to be here? Because I don't think you do. And I'm si-"

"What are you talking about Buck? Of course I want to be here. I'll al-" Steve said dismissively.

"I wasn't done." Bucky coldly interrupted. "And no you don't. If you did you would've talked to me at some point during the party that you insisted I go to. You wouldn't have spent the entire night trying to talk with Tony. You don't want to be here with me, you just can't be with him."

"Buck come on let's not talk about this now we can in the morning." Steve tried to come closer to change his shirt.

"No." Bucky snapped. "I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore. I can't. I'm done with this bullshit. I'm done pretending that it doesn't hurt everytime you disregard my pain just to worry about Tony. I'm not okay Steve. I haven't been thanks for noticing. You're supposed to be my best friend, but Sam has been the one keeping me together. You don't even seem to worry anymore, so if I'm that unimportant I might as well just leave." Steve's eyes widened and his mouth opened as Bucky grabbed his clothes and got up to leave.

"No Buck you can't! You are important to me, how can you even say that!" Steve grabbed Bucky's arms. Bucky pushed him away.

"How can I say that? Because you've been barely talking to me. I had to pretend to be fucking drunk for you to even touch me." Steve looked taken aback. "You hadn't called me Buck in ages intill tonight. So what is it? Tell me. Tell me!" Bucky shouted. "Is it the winter soldier? Is it because I'm a monster that ate your best friend? Because if it is stop playing fucking saint that doesn't care and just tell me! Tell me so I can leave."

"No! No. Jesus Bucky never! You aren't a monster you are my best friend. I'm sorry. I'll be better. I'll be a better friend." Bucky scoffed.

"And there it is. Friend. You know I wouldn't care if you just didn't feel the same way, but sometimes like tonight I swear you love me just as much as I do you. Yet you deny it can happen, well then why the fuck were you looking at me tonight like you would give anything in the world to kiss me? I know people's opinions and God stopped you before, but it's different now and you and Tony so why can't we be together? Why do you seem like you care so much and then you're running after Tony like he's the only person in the world? I know you were okay with the break-up, so why can't you move on? After tonight I'm sure you love me like you love Tony so why? Just tell me why. Tell me why and I'll stay." Bucky sucked in a large breath and looked at Steve lost, pleading, and hurt.

Steve was quiet.

He walked further into the room away from Bucky to start pacing. Bucky took him turning away as a sign that they were done. He scoffed and started walking to the bathroom to change and leave. Steve heard him and panicked. He started speaking hurriedly.

"Maybe I don't want to break you! Maybe I can't care about you in that way because I know the second I do there will be no going back for me! And maybe I couldn't live with myself if something happened and we couldn't go back to what we were! Maybe I want to love you so God damn bad it burns in my bones," Steve started walking back towards him. "but I can't! Because what if I do something and I lose you! What if I need you but I can't fucking have you! Buck I want to take care of you so damn bad I want to love you the way you deserve. But I can't take care of you like you could me. When you came back to me not knowing your own name our roles switched and it scares the hell out of me, because the last time that happened you ended up on the bottom of a mountain. Because suddenly I was the strong one, but I still wasn't strong enough to protect you. You've always been the one that takes care of me. Even after I became Captain America. But now? I don't know what to do, and I can't fail you again. Maybe I have to pretend you're okay so I don't have to worry about you. Because maybe if I worry about you I'll realize you're not okay. And I don't know what to do about it! God damn it Bucky how the fuck am I supposed to fix everything! How am I supposed to make it all okay? How did you?" Steve's passionate rant ended with him looking at Bucky with pleading eyes.

Bucky stated at him soaking in all he said and processing.

"How do you with Tony? How do you fix it with him?"

"I obviously didn't we aren't together anymore, and I can't do that with you." Steve looked beaten.

"Well fine then how did you before?" Bucky snapped he was done not getting answers he liked.

"Tony needed me in a way I knew. I know how to take care of him, because it's the way I used to take care of you. Taking care of you while you were drunk coming home after seeing dames was always easy. And maybe that's part of the reason I was drawn to him."

Bucky looked at him sadly. "Steve you can't love him because he's almost how I used to be. And you can't not love me because you think something will happen. You still love him, and it sounds like- It sounds like you just want to stop loving me." Bucky stated tearing up.

"I know I do. I know I still love Tony and I always will, and I know I love you, I always have. But Buck you aren't understanding. Don't cry. Please. Just let me explain." Bucky's tears were not stopped by Steve's pleas. "Okay look, I was just as upset when Tony almost died as I was when I was saying goodbye to Peggy. But it didn't hurt like that when you died. They were so important to me. But not like you. I needed to be with them because I loved them so much. But not you. Do you know why?"

"Stop. Steve stop please. Please I can't hear this. I can't." Bucky's tears were streaming down his heartbroken face.

"No Bucky listen. It was because I mourned their loss. I was heartbroken about not being with them anymore. But with you it's different. When the train happened it wasn't like I was mourning someone I loved. It was like I was lost. It was like I died. My heart didn't break over your loss Buck. It was like I didn't even have one anymore. When you fell I lost my everything. And I don't know how I even kept going but I did. I just kept thinking how if I wouldn't have made you fight with me you wouldn't have had to die. How it was my fault. I didn't protect you. Because I didn't know how. We always had each others backs in any fight, but you were always the one that knew when to run and I didn't let you. I pulled you with me. And seeing you fall was the worst thing that I've ever had to live through." Steve was crying just as much as Bucky now. "Then you were back and I wanted so badly to help you, but I just dragged you into a mess with everyone. I didn't know what to say that would make it okay. Especially since I'm the one that- that let you fall. That let you go through being brainwashed. That let you be used as a weapon. I'm the one that let you down. I should've just let you go home. It was my fault. I did that." Steve was sobbing. "Buck I can't be the reason you get hurt again. Buck I can't. I can't. Buck, I can't. I- I ca" Steve's head was shaking back and forth and his chest was hammering breaths in and out. Bucky moved closer and grabbed his arms. "Buck I can- I can't breathe. Buck."

"Listen to me Steve we are both fine. We're okay. We're here together and it's okay." Steve was holding on to him as tight as he could.

"I nee- I need my- my med- medicine."

"No you don't Steve. You aren't having a asthma attack. You're having a panic attack. You need to slow your breathing. It's going to be okay. I won't leave you. I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault, all that matters is that I'm here now I'm okay. Steve look into my eyes." Steve was still shaking his head, so Bucky put a hand on one side of his face and held on. Steve's lip was quivering and he had snot dripping. "Look at me." Steve's eyes focused on Bucky's. "Good. That's good. Look. Just look. You and me that's all we need. And look we have it we're going to be okay. We are okay. It's going to be okay." Steve's breath started to slow.

"You did not let me fall. And none of it was your fault. Nothing could've kept me from following you. You didn't hurt me." Steve's breath hitched at that and Bucky could tell he didn't need to hear that now. "But what you did do is save me. You cut through decades of brainwashing just by saying my name. You give me purpose and a reason to fight." Steve's breathing was still fast, but not worryingly so. "The best parts of me are what I stole from you. If you think you're the only one lost without the other you're not. I mean I went a couple months without you and I got fake drunk at a fancy party." Steve laughed and Bucky beamed. "I mean come on that's even more pathetic than being real drunk at a fancy party."

"Yeah it is." All the air that Steve had been pushing out punched into Bucky in a single breath that he didn't even know he'd been holding. "Especially since you had me change you."

Bucky acted offended. "You punk you're barely breathin again and you're already givin me grief." Steve smiled.

"Well if I didn't who would. You jerk." Steve's smile turned sour and he looked away. "I'm sorry about that. We were talking and I- I'm sorry."

Bucky wiped Steve's face. "Don't be. I was so focused on how you weren't there for me I didn't even think to be there for you. We're going to put it all aside and be okay tonight." Steve's hands were still shaking.

"Okay." Steve yawned.

"We should go to sleep." Bucky shrugged off his unbuttoned dress shirt and grabbed the tank top from the bed. As he was putting it on Steve started to speak.

"Buck? Can I-" Steve threw the joggers at him, and went over to the dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt. And threw it on the bed.

"Well what are you waiting for? Me to help you? I would if you asked really nicely." Bucky smiled and crossed his arms as he rested against the dresser.

"Bucky would you please help me?" Bucky was caught off guard, but recovered smoothly. He walked over and replied.

"Of course Stevie. Always."

After they got changed Steve stood awkwardly still with trembling hands. "Buck c-"

"Yes." Bucky didn't even spare him a glance as he got into bed.

"You don't even know what I was going to say asshole. Listen." Bucky cocked an eyebrow up.

"Before you were going to ask to borrow some of my clothes, and just now you wanted to know if you could sleep in my bed. My answer to both is yes, so yes." Steve frowned at him. "Stevie I know you better than anyone, and it's far from the first time you've asked. So get your scrawny ass into this bed it's cold on your side."

"I am not scrawny anymore." Bucky smirked "You'll always be scrawny to me." Bucky held the covers up for him and Steve slid into bed. Bucky turned off the lamp beside the bed, but enough city light filtered through the curtains to softly illuminate the room. "Goodnight Stevie." Bucky said before rolling over.

"Goodnight Buck." Steve said staring at the ceiling.

There was a calm silence.

"Buck?"

"Yes Stevie?"

"What would you do if I kissed you goodnight?"

"I'd tell you to never do it again. Not unless you meant it. Not unless you were going to kiss me in the morning too."

"Buck?" Bucky heard the rustle it the pillow and could feel Steve's eyes on the back of his head.

"Yes Stevie?"

"What if I said I'd kiss you in the morning too?" Bucky rolled over and looked at Steve's shadowed face.

"Then I'd let you kiss me."

There was a pause. Then Steve's hand was up on his cheek. His eyes went to Bucky's lips as his thumb moved to trace them. He looked back up at Bucky's eyes. "You would?" Steve asked in a soft whisper.

"I would." Steve dragged his thumb over to his cheek, and moved closer.

"What if-" They could feel each others breath fanning over their faces as Bucky cut Steve off.

"What if we love each other till the end of the line." Bucky phrased it as a question, but Steve heard no guessing in his voice. So he closed the distance between them and then his eyes. When they kissed it wasn't fireworks or butterflies, it was home, and it felt like where they had always belonged.

Steve's hand was still on Bucky's cheek, and Bucky moved his to pull Steve closer. Bucky kissed him one last time and pulled back. "Alright we should sleep now." Steve whined and kissed him again. "Steve I'm serious." Steve ignored him and continued. "Steven we need to sleep." Steve let out a frustrated sound.

"I don't want to kiss you I want to sleep." Steve seemed to realize his mistake as Bucky smiled. "No wait I want to kiss you I don't want to sleep." Bucky chuckled.

"See you need to sleep you're so tired you're mixing up words."

"No it's not because I'm tired. It's because you kissed me stupid. You're a really good kisser Buck. You should kiss me again." Steve moved closer.

"Uh huh sure. Flattery will get you nowhere Rogers." Steve's eyes lit up.

"Well good because I dont want to be anywhere but here."

"Neither will sweet talk babydoll." Steve was only affected by the nickname for a few seconds.

"Damn it, but Buck that was really good." Bucky seemed to consider it.

"You're right it was. Fine one more kiss and then bed." Steve was pressing his lips to Bucky's almost before he finished speaking. Steve let out a groan when Bucky pulled back.

"Kiss me again." Steve said with his eyes still closed.

"I'll kiss you good morning." Steve opened his eyes and saw the uncertainty in his.

"Yes you will, and I will kiss you." Bucky smiled.

"Okay. Good night Stevie."

"Goodnight Buck." They both settled in, Steve against Bucky's chest and Bucky with his arms around Steve.

"Tomorrow Rogers you're taking me on a date."

"Bucky I don-"

"Cut the bullshit. You are not a coward you never have been. You're doing this. You're going to be terrified the whole time so am I, but you're doing this. We're doing this." He said as he intertwined their fingers. "Because that's who you are. You do things even if you're scared because they need to be done. Lunch. Tomorrow. Don't you dare be late Rogers, I've waited long enough."

intro part one    @halevetica ‘s a win

[mymind--themess]

Sugarbean -- Chapter One

It had been a week since your meeting with Ashe, and you still couldn’t get her out of your head. Work for you had been rather slow this past week due to two of your usual clients being either incarcerated or dead, and you were back up north, residing in New York state once more. You lived in a fairly large city; It wasn’t New York City, but it was second in size -- Buffalo, New York. It might as well have been NYC considering the hustle and bustle of the two cities were quite alike, as were the crime rates. Currently, you were nestled by the fireplace in your small apartment, lounging casually. Sure, you could definitely afford a mansion with all the cash you made in weapons dealing, but you preferred this adorable apartment and staying low. You were on the phone with a dear childhood friend who you had met at the best orphanage you had resided in, Marianna. (A/N: If you’ve ever read my reaper x reader, you will know exactly who she is)

“How was that trip down south to Deadlock Gorge?” Marianna asked knowingly.

“Hot,” You mumbled with a scoff as you unconsciously began to rub the beautiful necklace she had gotten you and B.O.B had been the one to give to you. “How’s Italy? Beautiful like always?”

“You know it; Although, it has definitely been a weird trip. So much has happened; I really cannot wait to see you and tell you everything at the annual reunion! You’re coming in this year, right?”

“Of course! That orphanage has been my home since I was 13; I wouldn’t miss reunion week for the world.” You replied as you smiled.

“Great! Anyways, how did the cowgirl casanova look?” Marianna said slyly.

You moved your hand to your chest in a mock dramatic gesture. “Finer than a bottle of wine!” You declared, causing Marianna to giggle.

“I don’t get why you two aren’t a thing yet; Just make a move!” She chided you through laughs, totally serious even though her tone was full of laughter.

You sighed in embarrassment. “You know I can’t! You remember our rule?”

“(Y/N)! That rule doesn’t apply if you like a cowgirl! There are no rules when it comes to cowgirls — She’s a modern day outlaw.”

You sighed, biting your lip. Maybe you should make a small mov-, no! What if she totally disregarded how you felt? You would be so damn embarressed! What if she wasn’t even in to females? “I don’t even think she’s into females.”

Marianna could be hear scoffing over the phone. “Oh no, she definitely swings the female way. Back when her and my brother Jesse were close, she told him all she fancied was girls.”

“Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe did not say fancy.” You replied in disbelief.

“You don’t know her backstory at all, do you?”

“Do... do you?”

“Jesse simply told me she was rich; Like — My grandmother’s level rich. Filthy rich.”

You thought on that for a moment. Well, it would certainly explain how she’s able to afford the weapons you sell. You were one of the most expensive dealers around because you dealt with high end clients. You never really thought of where they money came from; It dawned on you, she must’ve been pretty wealthy for the amount she could buy at a time. Which made her even more powerful in your head. You had always focused on just Ashe, never about where her money was from. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Because you were too busy thinking about her ass.”

You scoffed, “No... well once, but no! I was thinking about her eyes to be honest.”

“... You sound as sappy as my sister gets over her girlfriend; It makes me want to chug vodka until it drowns out you two.”

You smiled, “Hey, Marisol got her girl; Knowing Marisol she’s probably as sweet as pie. She’s ahead of me by a few steps.”

Marianna sighed, “Yeah, actually her girl is a hacker for Talon. So sweet as pie my ass. You two have always had this thing for someone screaming the word Badass.”

You couldn’t help but snigger. “Can’t wait til someone bad comes your way.”

“I’d like to see them try.” Marianna sighed. “Well, I gotta go. See you at the reunion?”

“Unless I’m wherever you are before then.”

“Pretty sure you won’t be wherever Talon Headquarters are, heh. But hey, I will be back and forth between there and my lab on the Lunar Colony! Come take a trip to the moon, maybe? I have some new gadgets of mine for you to inspect and sell,”

You nodded, sitting up from the couch as your other phone gave off a sound to notify you of a text message. That was your “business” phone. “Sounds like a plan; Just text me when you’re about to leave a few hours in advance and come scoop me up!”

“Okay! Ciao!”

“See ya!”

The two of you hung up as you picked up your other phone to see “ASHE DG” pop up. You practically almost dropped your phone from momentarily jumping for joy.

Oh!

OH!

It was her, and so soon!

“She must’ve really went through those new bombs quick.” You mumbled aloud as your heart rate calmed somewhat.

With a quick sigh, you unlocked your phone and read the text message.

Ashe 5:08 p.m. : Hey Sugarbean~

You 5:09 p.m. : I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, Ashe. How can I help you?

You sent the text with a deep breath. You really had to stop acting like this with Ashe, you just had to! It was making you so vulnerable with your emotions, and heaven forbid she died or something! You’d be such a mess!

Soon, the notification went off again, and you quickly read the message.

Ashe 5:11 p.m. : Maybe I missed ya, darlin’. Just texting because I have a special proposition for you.

Typing a response, you raised an eyebrow as you mumbled the response aloud.

You 5:13 p.m. : Ha ha, very funny Ashe. What’s the proposition?

Ashe 5:16 p.m. : The boys and I are having a little New Year’s Eve bash. B.O.B wants you to come and I wanted to talk to you about looking into some more of those modified weapons; I’ve got the first stick-up of the year planned as somethin’ special.

A New Year’s Eve party, eh? Well, honestly, you didn’t see a reason to refuse. Go to the party, find out what Ashe wants specifically, go to the Lunar Colony to ask Marianna to build it, and then go for reunion week. It actually worked out perfectly — it was a win-win in your mind.

You 5:20 p.m.: Sounds good to me! Where’s the party going to be?

You held your breath for the response, impatient at best as you waited for the details to arrive to your phone.

Ashe 5:25 p.m.: At my ranch, which I just remembered you haven’t been to yet, Sugarbean. It’s in South Carolina, and one of the many spots I own. It’s very big and pretty hard to miss; the Desert Rose Manor. I’ll have B.O.B send you the location.

You sucked in a breath. “Wow, she really is that rich.” You said softly, biting your lip. Oh, man! You figured you had no shot in hell with Ashe.

You 5:27 p.m.: Alright, see you then!

Meanwhile, in one of the various places Ashe owned somewhere near Route 66, Ashe grinned wildly at her phone as her men stared to her in anticipation. “Did ya ask her boss?!” Charlie whispered anxiously. They all just had to know, y’know? Even B.O.B had sat down for this: everyone was trying to anticipate how the situation would turn out. This could either be very good, or very bad. If you said no, Ashe would be sad as all hell and hide it under anger she would lash at everyone else. If you said yes, you’d be practically answering the guys’ prayers for Ashe to be in a good mood before going back to the fierce leader she was in the morning.

Ashe looked up as she recieved your last text, placing her phone down and looking to her gang. “Bring on the liquor boys; Suagrbean said yes.”

Cheers errupted as B.O.B clapped for his master before walking up to her and tilting his head as if he had something to show Ashe. Ashe knew that look and gave a small pout. “Is it bad?”

The robot shook his head no and turned to walk into another room, away from the loud sounds or riled men and bottles popping open. Ashe followed and closed the door behind her. “What is it?”

B.O.B pressed his arm a few times until a voice capture popped up labled (Y/N). Ashe’s eyes widened. “B.O.B, did you... did you put a mic in the necklace?”

B.O.B stared at his human. Was it not clear for his mistress? Perhaps he had overstepped a bit, but he just hated seeing her miserable and longing for you. Especially when he could tell you felt the same. He swore to God, humans were weird.

Ashe smirked, “B.O.B, you absolute sneaky devil! I love ya! What’d she say?”

Lo and behold, B.O.B had set the mic to capture when Ashe’s name was brought up as well as Deadlock Gorge. B.O.B had your whole phone call with Marianna recorded and he played it back for Ashe until she blushed a bit with wide eyes. You hadn’t known she was rich from the jump, and didn’t even care? You weren’t afraid of who she was, just of the heartbreak of her denying you? You were just as afriad to screw this whole thing up as she was? You got lost in her eyes like she found herself getting lost in your own (e/c) orbs?

This changed everything. There was no more playing games now.

Ashe was going to have you.

And nobody else would.

Not ever.

“Thanks B.O.B, really. You always know just what to do to wake me up.”

B.O.B nodded and gestured back to the gang as if to ask Ashe if she’d like to go back in.

Ashe thought about it, before shaking her head as she crossed her arms. “Nah, not really thinking about drinking right now. What if I drunk text? I might send a nude to my Sugarbean and as much as I know now she’d enjoy it...that’d be a dumb move. Come on now, I don’t want her to think it was a drunken decision. I will win her over by being a gentlewoman to my Sugarbean. I might be a lot of things, but you didn’t raise a complete heathen.”

Ashe smirked, fixing her hat as she looked out of the large windows and down upon Route 66. “I am one hell of a winner though, and I know exactly how to play this card you’ve just dealt me.”

[slytheriffic]

Worth It

Rating: G

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Genre: Angst

WC: 1.7k

Summary: Ten years since the Astronomy Tower, Harry and Draco have some things to talk about.

A/N: I wrote this in like three hours because I just reread HBP and the quote “ Harry did not believe Malfoy would have killed Dumbledore.” really stuck out to me. This is unbetaed. I might come back and edit later. Also, I haven’t written fanfic in years, and never for this ship or really the HP fandom in general, so enjoy my first attempt!

~~~~~~~

Draco splashed some water on his face, and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He wiped his hands down his face before looking at himself in the mirror, bracing his arms on the sink. His own grey eyes stare back at him, slightly red rimmed and with purple circles underneath. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a few weeks.

“Hurry back to bed!” Harry’s voice called from the bedroom. The very reason he had been losing sleep.

Two weeks ago, the lost sleep was by choice. It was long nights spent in Harry’s bed, skin pressed against skin, disregarding morning responsibilities. Their first date had very nearly ended in bed, but Draco had made them wait until at least the second. Even then they barely made it through their dinner.

Him and Harry had started dating about a month ago, after months of propositions from Harry, that Draco had denied again and again. He had denied them for this exact reason. He knew it was too good to be true. Harry would eventually come to his senses, and realise that he didn’t actually want to be with Draco. He didn’t actually want to be with a murderer. Draco had pushed it aside for the first few weeks of their relationship, allowed himself to be lost in Harry. It’s hard to think about his past crimes with Harry’s lips on his.

However, he could do nothing but think of them now. With the looming anniversary, he’s being reminded at every turn. Ten years since Albus Dumbledore was murdered at the top of the astronomy tower.

A small knock sounded on the bathroom door. Draco’s eyes slid to the door slowly. He didn’t want to bring it up. He didn’t want Harry to bring it up. He didn’t want to talk about it - but he knew they must.  He’d rather it end now than in four months when he was truly in love with Potter.

“Draco? Is everything alright?” Harry asked from beyond the door. Draco felt his heart melt at the concerned tone, Harry sounded like he truly cared. But how could he? How could he ever push aside what Draco had done? Sure, he could conveniently forget, enough to fuck him, and get off. But when came to the future, long-term, love - Draco just didn’t think it was possible.

“I’m coming in,” Harry warned. Draco looked back in the mirror, horrified to see tears filling his eyes, and watched as the door open and Harry stepped in. Harry’s eyes met his in the mirror. It was deja-vu in the worst way. The tears fell past his eyes.

Of course, this didn’t end with blood. Harry rushed to Draco, turning him around and into his arms. “W-What’s wrong?” He stuttered out, hand rubbing along Draco’s bare back.

Draco clung to him, burying his face in Harry’s neck. For a few glorious moments they just stood there. Then Draco pulled back. He knew what he had to do. He had known since he first refused Harry’s ask on a date, they wouldn’t work. They couldn’t work. Not with- not with everything.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Draco said, barely meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry stepped back as if burned.

“What?” Harry looked shocked. Draco inhaled and compartmentalized. Push back his feelings, obey logic, he knew that Harry would leave so he had to do it first.

He met Harry’s eyes this time, “I can’t do this anymore.” Harry’s face fell, as if the first time he hadn’t heard him, or thought he had misheard, or some other form of denial in what Draco was saying. Draco worked hard to ignore the physical pain in his stomach from knowing he put that look on Harry’s face.

Harry looked down. Draco wished Harry would see on his own, how wrong they were. How Draco could never be the one for him. He saw Harry’s eyes well up. Harry met his eyes, but apart from the tears, his gaze was pure rage.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” He said, voice hard. Draco hadn’t heard this particular voice directed at him since their Hogwarts days. He almost recoiled, but caught himself. Somehow in his own self-pitying he had forgotten Harry’s inability to give up, and his willingness to fight.

“I can’t, Harry. We both knew this couldn’t last,” Draco explained, mouth pinching. At the very least, Draco knew it wouldn’t last. Harry seemed to grow more angry, so apparently he didn’t. Maybe he should see a mind-healer, with those delusions.

“What do you mean we both knew?! I’ve been asking you out for months, Draco! And I intended this to last-well! As long as you wanted it to!” Harry exploded, gesturing wildly with his hands until they landed in his messy hair. He clenched his fists, and looked close to pulling his hair out by the roots. “If you didn’t think this would last, why would you go on a second date, huh?!”

This time it was Draco’s explosion. He had tried so hard to deny Harry. Months, months! He had spent months ignoring every pull towards the man because logic told him he couldn’t. And he gave in, and that one taste. One taste of him was enough to get him hooked. How could he be expected to think logically when Harry was kissing him?

“I tried! I denied you for months, and you wouldn’t give up! You pursued me for so long and eventually, I JUST GAVE IN! You left me no choice! I didn’t want any of this!” Draco’s voice rang out loud, seeming to echo off the tile. This time, Harry actually looked burned. His face fell, and his mouth tightened. Draco immediately regretted his words, he had wanted all of it. He had wanted it so much. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He wanted it too much, and there was nothing he could do that would erase the reasons he couldn’t have it.

Harry glared at him. Like the voice, it was a look Draco hadn’t seen directed at him since their Hogwarts years. A look of pure hatred. Draco felt as if his chest was caving in.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Draco? Do you think I don’t know when you’re lying? If you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t be here. What the FUCK is going on?!” Harry reached out, and grabbed Draco by the shoulders. Of all the reactions, that was the last one he expected. Harry’s eyes bored into his, and he felt the tears coming up again, a knot forming in his throat. “Draco, please.”

Draco choked around a sob, forcing himself not to reach out for Harry. He refused to meet his eyes as the tears started to fall again. Harry searched his face, his voice almost a whisper, “I love you. You can tell me anything.”

The words shocked Draco to the core. Loved him? Harry couldn’t love him. He was delusional again, if he thought that. Had he forgotten? Had he forgotten what Draco had done? Had he forgotten the way Dumbledore raised up, and fell like lead from the top of Hogwarts? It was Draco’s fault. He was a murderer. He shoved Harry’s hands off of him.

“You don’t. You can’t. You can’t love me. You’ve-You’ve just forgotten, haven’t you?” Draco’s whole body was shaking, his hands trembling as they desperately tried to wipe away his tears. His voice matched. He was shaky, he felt like he was breaking. “Harry! I’m a murderer! I killed him! You were there! How could you love me? When you saw? When you know? I KILLED DUMBLEDORE!” Draco felt his voice breaking, a sob forcing its way out of his throat, and he collapsed on the ground with his back against the sink. He succumbed to his tears, sobbing into his knees, whispering “I killed him,” to himself.

He couldn’t look up. Surely, now Harry would remember. Would remember why he never loved Draco, could never love Draco. He would kick Draco out. Probably wouldn’t even give him time to get dressed, he would just send him out in his sweatpants, bawling and-

Hands pulled his arms from around his knees, and gently took them into his lap. Draco looked up at Harry, who was holding his hands and gently tracing Draco’s fingers with his own.

“What are -hic- you doing?” Draco asked.

Without looking up, Harry said, “I never blamed you for that.” Draco felt the shock cross his features. He felt numb. He could only feel the gentle touch of Harry’s fingertips.

“You were there, Harry. I know I didn’t cast the curse but-”

“You’re right, I was there. I saw when your wand fell.” He looked up for the first time, and curled Draco’s hands in fists, squeezing them in his own. He looked in Draco’s eyes. “I know you wouldn’t have killed him.”

Draco felt a wave of unexpected relief flood him. He had expected Harry to attempt to forgive. He would try to see past the things Draco had done, but really Draco was the one to blame, and Harry knew that. They would last as long as they could with accepted apologies - months, years, decades, maybe - before someday it all boiled over. That’s why Draco had wanted it to be over now. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking Harry had forgiven him, the way Harry could fool himself.

But Harry knowing the truth? Harry knowing that Draco was only seconds too late in accepting Dumbledore’s offer, that his wand had been mere milliseconds from dropping when the Death Eaters pushed open the doors? That was outside the realm of possibility. Draco barely thought of that truth. It had been so important to lock that away during the war, his life depended on taking responsibility for Dumbledore’s death, that he had convinced himself of it. Even so, if he had thought of it often enough, he could have only dreamed Harry would believe him.

Harry’s hands reached for his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He held on tightly to Harry’s forearms. They pulled away slowly, and Draco stared into those bright green eyes. He smiled for the first time in what felt like years.

“I love you, too.”

Harry smiled back, just as bright, and pulled Draco unto his lap into a crushing hug. Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck, wrapped his legs around his back, and his arms around his neck. They were tangled in one another. Draco understood, now, why Harry had asked him out for months. This was worth it. They were worth it.

[skyephilosopher]

Why Don’t You?

continuation of https://skyephilosopher.tumblr.com/post/158175350713/understand Next: https://skyephilosopher.tumblr.com/post/159658422003/do-you DeviantArt: http://skyephilosopher.deviantart.com/art/Why-Don-t-You-673165182?ga_submit_new=10%3A1491428883 Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10188839/chapters/23292700 I don’t know. I’m sorry. Formatting’s probably not accurate.  __________________________________ Leo only stared blankly as it eased itself up, fiercely denying the truth- the idea that the thing with a sweeping tail and claws longer than throwing knives was his little brother. Donatello. Donnie .

Leo watched as his brother tilted his head, letting out a low noise. He still felt as though he was frozen, like if he even slightly moved, Donnie would wheel around and attack and there’d be nothing they could do about it. 

Then, with a sudden surge of energy, Donnie leapt back, and Leo took brisk note of his rippling muscles, the pure physical power beneath his scales. The sharp movement broke Leo free of his stupor, and, despite Donnie not being anywhere too near, he jerked back. Beside him, Raph’s arm brushed his, and Mikey made a sound of alarm.It must have startled Donnie, as he whirled, his entire body tensing as he turned his lips in a mute snarl. With horror, Leonardo also took notice of his little brother’s pearly white acute teeth.

“Donnie…” Mikey murmured, his eyes rapidly flickering to take in the deformities defining his physical self. The contorting expression faltered a bit, and then remained a tad longer before crumbling. Something that suggested recognition replaced the blatant aggression, and Donnie’s body gradually relaxed.

“God, Donnie…” Raph said, his voice at first a breathless whisper. Donnie’s head raised, his neutral, albeit puzzled, gaze shifting toward him. Upon seeing he had his attention, Raph continued stronger. “Are… a-are you okay?” Leo could not recall a time when Raph had been so weak, stumbling over his words and looking utterly defeated .

Donnie’s brows furrowed, and he stood still momentarily before turning completely, beginning to reluctantly slink up to them.“Donnie, are you okay ?” Raph prompted again.

He had tried to go on, but Mikey then cried suddenly, “Ooooooh, Casey’s gonna be so mad !”

“That’s not important right now, Mikey,” Leo murmured, swallowing thickly as he inclined his head to look up to his little brother.

Raph added to the swapping by hoarsely muttering, “God, what’re we gonna tell Splinter?”

Donnie blinked, crouching low just below their level.

After a long moment of silence, Mikey murmured, “You haven’t really answered us. Are you ‘kay, Don?” Donnie didn’t give any sign of comprehension. He may have just slightly tilted his head left, but his ambiguous expression remained. Mikey, his brows furrowed, carefully reached out for Donnie’s lighter hand, but Donnie pulled away. Mikey’s face fell injured, and he whispered, “Bro?”

Now Donnie appeared upset. He blinked and looked over Mikey quickly before making a low, guttural noise and pushing his head against his plastron. Mikey didn’t respond, apparently stupefied

.“Donnie,” Leonardo said slowly. “Donnie, do you understand?” Donnie released a faint huff and slumped, but that was all in response.

“Donnie, please, you have to-” Leo cut himself off and turned away. Blinking away tears, he further averted his brother’s questioning gaze. The confusion and the ignorance that had no place in his unfamiliar, pale blue eyes said it all.

Donnie felt like a stranger or a lost dog they picked up on the side of the road. Because… almost nothing stumped Donnie or confused him. He was bright, smart, intelligent, clever, brilliant, genius- any similar synonym. Yet, here he was, growling unintelligibly and not able to understand the simplest of English. 

Leo grimaced before glancing at Raph, who had stiffened beside him.

And him throwing his sai to the ground surprised even him. 

“It’s not fair.“ Leo could just hear him whisper. “ It’s not fair .”

Donnie jerked away with a whimper, scuttling away farther while his white-tipped tail curled around his left rear leg. His pupils, now mere slivers, danced wildly around, his lips drawn back.

Mikey had stood swiftly, staring at Raph once, then Leo, then Donnie, and finally alternating between the last two.

Raph swallowed thickly, looking to his sai for a second before falling to his knees and reaching out to his little brother.

Nostrils quivering, Donnie’s eyes locked onto Raph’s hand. After a deep breath, Donnie raised one hand as if preparing to step. And, shortly, he followed through, slinking back.

As though Raph had never startled him, Donnie leaned to nudge Raph’s hand affectionately and was surprised to see that Raph pulled away. He drew his head back and tilted it again, narrowing his eyes. But then he cast his remotely hurt gaze downward and grimaced.

Raph stood, inclining his head to see Donatello better. “God, now I feel bad.”

“Poor Don. Just completely. Poor Donnie.”

“I don’t think Donnie would appreciate all this pity,” Leo murmured. “C’mon, guys, we needa get him back to the lair.”

“How?” Mikey muttered, too looking at Donnie, who had resumed his quizzical stare. “He’s so… big.”

“Through an abandoned subway entrance,” Leo said, already turning.

“That’s crazy risky. You’re crazy. We’d be caught without a doubt!” Raph protested hotly. He flinched a bit when Donnie whimpered.

“Yeah, but you think Donnie can fit through a manhole? Also, we’ve been spotted a few times, probably. Long as we’re careful afterward, they’ll forget ‘bout us,” Mikey said. “We just keep Donnie in the lair once we get back.”

Raphael glanced at his super mutant brother, scowling, but then shifted his gaze toward Leonardo silently. His shoulders slumped

.As they started to walk toward the door, they began waving their arms and clucking, and Mikey even said, “C’mon, Donnie,” just trying to get him to follow.

But Donnie’s eyes widened, his jaw fell, and he stared at them with the most shocked features. A surprisingly high whine came from him. And, before they could reassure him, the roar of anguish erupted.

“Dammit-”

They cut him off as best as they could with “SHH!”

Donnie did indeed quiet. Once his surprise dwindled, his features came to reflect his utter crestfallenness.

A small huff escaped Raph, and, after glancing around briefly, he patted his leg like he would with any stray dog to encourage them. Donnie seemed to half-understand, for he took one, uncertain step forward. When they smiled and nodded, Donnie continued his approach, and the three exited through a side door. His brothers turned to persuade him farther out before scaling a wall and coming to the adjacent roof. They hadn’t anticipated Donnie getting stuck.

With whimpers of distress, halfway through, Donnie tried returning to the inside of the building, but his bulging shoulders prevented such action. So he had to push forward. His claws scraped against concrete, forming fine grooves.

Finally, with one, powerful surge, Donatello jerked free with a shower of loose concrete and grit. He promptly picked himself up and shook. Before he could risk anymore time being spotted by citizens, Leo called. Upon hearing his name, Donnie raised his head and abandoned the idea of checking his grazes. They didn’t need to do much to get Donnie up.

But they didn’t anticipate concrete crumbling and a thunderous rumble either.

Donnie had landed squarely on the roof and now balanced on the edge, tail lashing below. “Don- nie ,” Mikey said softly. “Bro.” In response, Donatello merely grumbled, though his eyes were on them all, nearly amused. But they hushed him, and his eyes narrowed. He went on to make a similar noise after drawing his head back.

Raph huffed, interrupting his animalistic sound by clamping his elongated beak shut. After a moment of reluctance, Raph rushed Donnie to the opposite side and demanded he go.Twisting his head free, Donnie looked down to the alley. After giving his red-clad brother a look that suggested, “You’re sure? ” he obeyed and slid down.  Raph inwardly cursed Donnie’s tail when it smacked a trash can into the wall. Because it seemed one of the few gestures or hints or words his animalistic brother could now hopefully fathom, Raph shushed him.

With a rise in the startled shouts, Raph and his two other siblings leaped down to join a hostile Donatello. But he nearly disregarded them, instead setting his piercing icy blue glare ahead.

“Donnie, no, don’t growl,” Mikey murmured. “Shh, buddy. It’s okay.” Cautiously, he rubbed Donnie’s arm and was pleased to see his brother relax.

After a few minutes, Leo concluded staying hidden was too dangerous because they could be trapped. So he and Raph and Mikey quickly advanced to a nearby rooftop and proceeded to inspire Donnie to join them.

He let out a sort of dejected noise, trying his best to comply. After a few seconds, the same nettlesome can met Donnie’s foot with a strident scrape. He flinched and turned to them a gloomy stare.

 “Do you think we should go a different way?” Raph questioned. “Make it easier on him?”

“Let him try first,” Leo responded, patting the roof edge.

Donnie succeeded in turning shortly, proceeding to rear and reach the roof, claws clicking. Donnie tried to haul himself up, got halfway, and then fell back with a grunt. He made it up within three more attempts.

“Good,” Leo praised, offering a smile. “C'mon, Dee.” But he didn’t stand, yet sprawled on the surface, looking to them with drained, pale eyes.

“Buddy?” Mikey said, coming nearer, now crouching. “Hey.” Mikey settled further on Donnie right side. Leo and Raph came to rest on the opposite. At this, Donatello raised his head, rumbling.

Mikey allowed a small smile. “You know,” he said, “Donnie’s real… pretty.”

“Pretty,” Leo repeated. “Yeah, I guess.”

Leo supposed the dark green and mint green splotches marking Donnie’s visible scales weren’t too horrible. They looked okay with the olive green of his original scales underneath the dominant dapples. Gazing closer, the light areas on his elongated beak and feet and tail weren’t white, but a very pale green. The purple markings around his eyes, as he saw when Donnie’s head turned to them, were actually quite elaborate, unique from one another. Leo squinted. A dark smudge on his forehead marked his otherwise light head.

And… Donnie’s eyes weren’t completely mindless. Leo could still detect the Donnie-like curiosity. All his warmth. It was just suggested differently.

Pretty. Good of a word as any.

Mikey placed a soft hand on Donnie’s cheek, eliciting a pleased rumble from the latter, and his head twisted to lick his little brother’s fingers affectionately.

“Oh my god Donnie just licked me-” Mikey said around chuckles very quickly turning into sobs. “He licked me -”

Nearly immediately, Raph and Leo nudged away a concerned and upset Donatello to provide solace.

Once Mikey had cut off his outburst in embarrassment, Raph turned to Donatello, who was now resting on his haunches, his head bowed, deliberately averting their gazes.

“Hey, it’s okay, Donnie. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You don’t know what you’re doing; you can’t help it,” he murmured, rubbing his arm. Donnie’s head rose a bit and then completely when Leo called them both. He let out a sigh through his nostrils, letting Raph go on before he hauled himself up to lag behind.

Michelangelo glanced back to his brother, noting with amusement his lip curling back as they trudged through the sewers. They could only assume his senses had enhanced- of course, it’d smell even worse.

“Mikey,” Leo muttered then, breaking the verbal silence. “Please go ahead. You’re the fastest. Tell Sensei what’s happened before we get there.”

The one in question shot a quick glance at his quadruped brother. “Right- yeah, okay.” He nodded too vigorously and broke away, jogging beyond his eldest brother before starting his sprint.

It didn’t take too long to arrive, running and pushing his already exhausted body even further past its limits.

“Michelangelo,” Sensei said as Mikey brushed past the turnstiles, his voice brimming with his uncontrollable anxiety. “Are you okay? Where are your brothers?”

“I’m fine- we’re fine-”

“Mikey?” A distant, familiar voice, from the kitchen. April.

The two humans scrambled from the kitchen, tripping over their feet in their enthusiasm to see their formerly MIA friends. “Mikey!” April exclaimed again.

“Hey,” he replied simply. “Why’re you still here?”

They didn’t respond, clearly having seen Mikey’s older brothers’ absences. “Oh god-” Casey started, his face falling grave with some horrible misapprehension.“No, hey, they’re okay. They’re coming. But-“  

“Oh god -”

“ But , uh, uhm-“ he grappled with English, desperately trying to find proper words. “Donnie’s, uh, been mutated into… something? Uh-”

“ Mutated ?”

“… Yeah.”

After that, Casey was silent, his vacant gaze locked on a distant wall. April seemed quite interested in her shoes.  

“Is- Is Donatello with your brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he… conscious?”

“Conscious?” Mikey repeated. After a moment, he went on to say, “No? I mean, it’s not like he’s aggressive, I guess. He’s still Donnie. I mean, kinda?” After a second of respite, he elaborated with, “I don’t think our Donnie is in control. He doesn’t understand a lot besides his name and ‘shh.’ I think he recognizes us by our names. I guess it’s something.” A bout of tangible silence succeeded, constricting and overbearing.

“Something,” Splinter echoed under his breath, turning a dulled gaze to the entrance.

Suddenly, Casey laughed, saying something around snorts that sounded remotely like, “You’re so funny .” They ended abruptly with a choke as the beast trailing behind Raph and Leo turned the corner.

Donnie’s previously bowed head shot up, and his eyes were bright and inquisitive, suggestive of a former Donatello represented in a different light. He rumbled, nudging past the two and trying to leap over the turnstiles, inevitably tripping up. It didn’t seem to quell his curiosity, for he stood right back up and resumed his approach toward Splinter.

“Donatello?” Splinter murmured, offering one hesitant hand. But Donatello disregarded the gesture, bringing his cold nose to Splinter’s neck.

“Donnie-” Leo began, but stopped, seeing as it was too late to discourage the action.

Donatello looked up, his eyes now also reflecting the warmth of recognition, melting a bit the icy shade. But they were just so foreign and were nothing similar to his red eyes, that Splinter couldn’t connect that this was his child, not just some mutant his other children picked up tonight. With a realization, Splinter’s throat constricted.

His poor son-

“What’re we gonna do?” Mikey asked miserably, giving his brother a quick glance. “All that science stuff is Donnie’s thing.”

“We can discuss such plans tomorrow,” Splinter muttered in response.

After a moment, Leo questioned, “Where’s Donnie gonna sleep? I’m pretty sure he’s too big to fit in his room comfortably, and I don’t think the living room’s much better.”

“Could the dojo work?” April said. “It’s bigger for sure.” She glanced at Splinter, hoping for some agreement.

“Yes, certainly,” he said absently, starting to walk toward their bedrooms.

While April and Raph and Leo and Mikey watched their Sensei depart in puzzlement, Casey turned to a drowsy Donatello, lulled by the supposedly incomprehensible murmurs of their voices and the opportunity to rest, and said, “C’mere, Donnie.” His boyfriend’s head was reluctant to rise, and his body seemed even less willing to comply, but he trudged over regardless. He was a lot more pleasant when Casey began stroking his splotched neck, for he emitted a deep, rumbling purr that the human was able to feel in his bones.

Suddenly, testily, Raph hissed, “ Don’t do that !”

“Why not?” Casey retorted, his hand falling.

“Donnie’s not an animal!”

“I know that.” Casey tensed, his eyes narrowing. “It’s been a rough night for all of us. Don’t you think Donnie deserves some attention after it?”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“Welp,” Mikey said blithely, interrupting. “C’mon, Donnie.” Donnie let out some kind of snort, laboriously standing and plodding after his brother.

Leonardo entered the training area in time to observe Donnie beginning to investigate the space, his head low as he leisurely crept about.  Leo was relatively fine with allowing Donnie to sniff around if it made him feel more at ease. But, as Donnie began trying to nose and paw his way into Splinter’s room, Raph said, “Donnie, come here.”

Former heaviness returned, Donnie came up and lowered his head to Raph’s level, his stare almost blank besides a dull exhaustion. Lacking his prior severity, Raphael said, “Find somewhere to lay down.”

Donnie’s eyes narrowed, and he stood motionless for a long moment before settling himself down right in front of them all. He was able to gaze evenly into his red-clad brother’s eyes. “You’re sure you wanna  lie there?” Donnie only lowered his head, not even attempting to process the question.

Then, suddenly, Splinter entered, in his grasp a mass of blankets and pillows. He maneuvered around them, setting the soft bundle behind the familiar tree. Promptly, Donnie hauled himself up to collapse right back down onto the pile. “I assumed you would prefer to remain with your brother,” Splinter murmured, kneeling and tugging one sheet free.

“Yeah,” Mikey said, joining them. “ Donnie , you need to share .” He gave his brother a gentle, good-natured shove, and, with a huff, Donnie slid off.

While their older brothers and father set up, Casey sidled up. “Hey,” he said, kneeling, addressing Donatello. “I gotta go now if I wanna come back at all tomorrow.” He held out a hand, further bringing it to Donnie’s cheek. “Let’s hope my dad has some kinda mercy.” Donnie rumbled, pressing against his palm. After a second, Casey muttered, “Yeah,” drawing his hand back and standing. “I’ll try.”

“I should leave too,” April said quietly. “I’m going to ask my dad if he can help with some kind of retro-mutagen.” And with a few more shared words and a remorseful glance at Donnie, April followed her human companion out. Donnie didn’t take notice, more focused on watching Splinter and Raph and Leo laying out and situating the blankets through half-closed eyes as Mikey rubbed his bicep, skimming past the grazes that had long scabbed over.  

As soon as they were satisfied, Mikey freed Donnie. Immediately, he dragged himself over and buried his face into a pillow.

Michelangelo came over, nestling against Donnie’s side, his head resting on his brother’s arm. Without opening his eyes, Donnie shifted as to nudge and acknowledge him, a soft sigh released from his nostrils. Raph joined them too, slinging an arm over his carapace while Leo crawled up next to Mikey.

Donatello was asleep when Splinter kneeled and settled, caressing his cheek lightly with his knuckles. His fingers soon unfurled, tracing the unsymmetrical, purple swirls up by his eyes. They felt different from his scales, almost velvety, like the fabric of his mask.

His son’s eyes opened with a quiet rumble, but he was easily lulled back by Splinter’s rhythmic strokes across his neck.

“Father,” Mikey mumbled drowsily. “Dad, what are we gonna do?”

“We will try our best to help develop some form of… retro-mutagen, yes? That is what you call it?”

“Yeah,” Mikey replied, lifting his heavy head to meet Splinter’s gaze. “Do you know where Donnie hid the original… recipe?” Quickly, though, he added, “Leo probably knows. But did he tell you?”

“Yes,” Splinter said simply, reaching out to squeeze his son’s shoulder. “Now sleep. We need all the attentiveness we can muster later.”

“Later,” he echoed. “It is past twelve, isn’t it?” And, with that, Mikey’s head sunk, returning to rest comfortably on his big brother’s thick, unfamiliar, dappled arm.

“Leo!” Mikey exclaimed upon seeing his eldest brother enter the lair. “Where have you been?”

“I went to see Rockwell and ask him if he could help.”

“Dude, you can’t just run off without telling us where you went, you big hypocrite.” Mikey’s exasperation melted, temporarily pushed aside. “Leo, Donnie’s still not eating anything.”

“Did you offer him pizza again?”

“Well, yeah.”

“If he didn’t want it the first five times,” Leo said, “then what makes you think he’ll want it now?”

“Maybe he’d be hungry enough to try .” Mikey huffed, rubbing his face. After a moment, he murmured, “Leo, what’re gonna do? He’s so difficult- he won’t even eat.”

“Is he drinking? Drinking the water?” Leo asked then.

“Drinking what we give him.”

Leo heaved a sigh, collapsing beside his brother on the couch. “I think we should expand. Humor his animal mind until we can get Donnie back in his mind or in his normal body.”

“‘Humor his animal mind,’ Leo? What’re you saying?”

Leo looked up, his face the shade of his mask. “We could try feeding him algae an- well, actually, maybe raw meat. His teeth look more accustomed to meat.”

He anticipated a fierce objection, but he was surprised to see Mikey’s head fall. “Maybe,” he murmured. “I just don’t want Donnie starving. I’ll be willing to give him anything.”

Leo’s hand fell onto Mikey’s shoulder, lingering. “Is Casey or April here? I don’t think we have meat right now.”

“April’s not here, but Casey is.” Mikey perked up. “I think he’s with Donnie.”

“Right.” Leo only then noticed he had moved to sitting stiff, and he tried his best to sink into the comfort of the couch. He inhaled deeply, releasing his breath shortly in a sigh. “This…”

“Sucks?”

“For lack of a better term,” Leo said, “yeah.”

Meanwhile, Casey had indeed snuck off to visit Donatello while he could, with Raph distracted. He seemed absolutely determined to keep Casey away from Donnie because God forbid he be concerned about his boyfriend. Raph snarled if even gave him an idle glance. Casey figured it had something to do with “treating Donnie like an animal.” Which, he supposed, was within reason to be worried about if he felt it’d be counter-productive.  But it totally wasn’t, though, because rejecting any affection from him repeatedly and neglecting him would render it even worse. And, anyway, there was no danger of Donnie being repressed because he was very present. Casey knew that.  

Casey moved his right index finger toward one vertebrate in his neck, pressing gently to have him lower his already bowed head. He shifted on his haunches, releasing a strange, low chitter in between two throaty purrs before falling forward into Casey, about knocking him over.

Once he recovered, he huffed, “Again, Donnie? You need to stop.” With a teasing grin,  he slipped his hand underneath Donnie’s mandible. His eyes opened a bit with the upward movement, and his attention struggled to focus on the boy’s dark eyes and his trademark smirk.  His lips turned up in a small smile, oscitant and contented. Another chirr came from him as he tilted his head, nuzzling Casey’s palm with a cool nose. Then, with a sudden, strong exhale, his head sunk, settling in Casey’s lap.

“Oh, I see,” Casey said, lightly tapping the bridge of his snout to get Donnie’s eyes open again. “You’re just using me for your own personal pleasure an’ comfort.” He didn’t respond to the rise, his lids instead sliding down to conceal his hazy blue pools while he pulled his lower body tighter.

“Aw, fine,” he muttered, yet beaming. He went on to rub Donnie’s cheeks roughly in just the right way that made the volume of Donnie’s guttural purrs spike and then quaver under the force before balancing again.

Casey’s hands dragged down, his thumbs slipping into an area below his lower jaw. If his purrs were anything to go by, Donnie was absolutely delighted.

Leisurely, Donnie picked up his head and nudged Casey’s chin with his snout until he surrendered and brought it up. Despite his icy nose, the soft exhales on Casey’s throat were pleasantly warm, adding to his predominantly heated skin.

The needle-thin and needle-sharp tips of Donnie’s talons caught on his sleeve. His purrs were interrupted again by a pleased chirr as he pushed himself closer so Casey could feel the guttural noises from deep within his boyfriend’s throat.

Casey laughed, partly with the strange sensation and otherwise with the absurdity of this whole giant situation. 

He continued to humor him, dragging his hands upward to find a place on Donnie’s cheeks. He pulled him away only to gently knock his head against Donnie’s, holding them there afterward.

“They’re working on a retro-mutagen for you. Everything’ll be back to normal soon,” Casey promised, staring into his big blue eyes. The ignorance and sheer disregard shining through the sleepy glaze sent a surge of frustration through Casey. This wasn’t Donnie. Why was he acting like this?

It was the Foot, Casey knew, that did this. The one time he wasn’t there- he could’ve protected Donnie, pushed him away, took it himself, could’ve just done something -

The frustration had coaxed the tiny flame of fury into a raging inferno, boiling his blood and setting his mind alight with the very idea of-

Dammit. Donnie was scared.Maybe not scared. Uncertain. Concerned. Concerned and uncertain and confused.

Casey hadn’t noticed his grip had tightened until the whimper broke him out of the spell.

A little bit. He hadn’t shed the anger entirely, and when he spoke again, his voice was fierce and harsh.

“You’re gonna be fine , and the Foot will get what’s coming to them. I promise .”

Donnie whined, pulling his head just a bit. And, at that, Casey melted, hunching and looping his arms around Donnie’s neck. “God, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It's… It’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay… okay?”

When Donnie gently twisted himself free and met Casey’s gaze in confusion, the boy huffed and re-established a gentle hold, bringing his head nearer to place a soft, tender kiss on Donnie’s nose.

Casey didn’t pull away, but he raised his head a bit to see Donnie’s reaction, which, presently, was blank and stupefied. But, as his gaze again fell on Casey, it grew warm and pleasant, his eyes narrowing in affection as he shifted his head enough to be able to nuzzle Casey’s hand once more, his purrs starting back up.

Casey sighed, bringing their heads together. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Hey,” Raph muttered, coming to sit beside Mikey at the kitchen table, pulling a chair nearer. “I know it hasn’t been the best week, but you’re lookin’ a lot more upset than usual. Soo, what’s up?”

Mikey only then acknowledged his brother’s presence and question, first with an inarticulate grumble, then with a mumbled answer of, “Donnie doesn’t recognize himself in a mirror.”   

“Oh.”

“He didn’t even know what it was,” he went on dryly, his fingers shifting to grip the mirror’s handle firmly. He squeezed his eyes closed, clenching his teeth. “He tried to attack it.”

“We’ll get our Donnie back soon,” said Raph. “They’re wo-”

“Yeah, but it’ll take months!” Mikey grumbled furiously. “Years!” His clenching grasp on the mirror tightened further, and he raised both it and his head, glaring at the back of it so severely it could be thought the inanimate object was the cause of every misfortune.  

Gently prying the mirror free, Raph muttered, “That’s a bit extreme, doncha’ think? They’d said it could take a year to find a method, but, really, the chance o’ that is slim.” Mikey only stared vacantly forward, fiddling anxiously with thumbs.