#no I do not understand what an appropriate number of tags is nor do i care I ramble when I’m nervous okay 🧍

[halfagone]

Ghost King Danny Ao3 Statistics

Just like the title states, this post intends to cover everything there is to know about Ghost King Danny fics for the DPxDC crossover on Ao3! Understandably, this is a very long post and there are a lot of numbers involved, so you may want to be prepared!

Did You Know?

There are a total of 1,334 Ghost King Danny Fenton fics found on Ao3. Of that figure, DPxDC makes up 697 fics- a whopping 52.25% of all fics under the "Ghost King Danny Fenton" tag. Danny Phantom, one of the parent fandoms for this crossover, have a total of 439 fics, which amounts to 32.91% of this tag.

But that's just the broader overview of the Ghost King trope for the crossover. Looking deeper reveals more interesting details about this concept and the authors' preferences.

Before we begin, it would be remiss of me not to include a disclaimer about this information. You are otherwise free to ignore this list, but for those of you who are interested on where or how I gathered this data, I thought it would be appropriate to be as open as possible.

Disclaimer

These numbers were gathered through manual labor on the site, Archive of Our Own.

These numbers were compiled in one day- September 12th, 2023, and as such, may not reflect the statistics on Ao3 in, for example, one month from now.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: These figures only include fics that have been explicitly tagged as Ghost King Danny. While some stories not included in these statistics may have hints towards his royal status, a good rule of thumb is to never assume the trope will be included in a fic until given reason to. The best way to do that is when the author properly tags "Ghost King Danny Fenton" on their work.

These numbers do not include any other crossovers, nor three-way crossovers. Ex: A Danny Phantom, DC, Miraculous Ladybug crossover. This is not to put down these other crossovers in any way, shape or form, but to show a clear, concise overview of the DPxDC community on Ao3.

Fun Fact!: As I gathered the data, I had to manually remove an incredible 57 fandoms and media from the Ghost King Danny tag in order to compile this list. [*] There are countless of other crossovers still going strong to this day, and while this post may not be about them, they deserve a round of applause as well!

No Languages were excluded from these figures.

This list included fics that are not open to guest readers (fics that must be read while you are signed in with your account).

For some of these statistics, please keep in mind that there can be an overlap. For example: Under the Fandom and Character Filters.

As a general reminder, while I took great pains to clean this information as thoroughly as possible, human error is still possible.

[*]: Curious about what that looks like? Here's a screenshot:

These are just 7 of the 57 fandoms I had to remove. I would offer you more, but then we would be scrolling even longer.

However, let's move onto the statistics portion.

Please keep in mind: During this process, I used the 697 figure stated at the beginning of this post to calculate the percentages of each category.

Ratings

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Teen - 320; 45.91%

Gen - 159; 22.81

Not Rated - 129; 18.51%

Mature - 75; 10.76%

Explicit - 14; 2.01%

Warnings

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

No Archive Warnings Apply - 276; 39.6%

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings - 270; 38.74%

Graphic Depictions of Violence - 149; 21.38%

Major Character Death (MCD) - 82; 11.76%

Rape/Non-Con - 5; 0.72% [^]

Underage - 2; 0.29% [^]

[^]: Your eyes are not deceiving you, these fics do not make up even a full percent.

Categories

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Gen - 284; 40.75%

M/M - 158; 22.67%

F/M - 63; 9.04%

Multi - 44; 6.31% [#]

Other - 29; 4.16%

F/F - 18; 2.58%

[#]: What does the category "Multi" mean? "Multi" in Ao3 means that there are more than relationship dynamic found in the story. For example, a work features both a M/M and a F/F ship.

Confused about why the numbers don't add up to 100%? Not all authors choose to mark the category of their work since it is not a required selection in Ao3.

Fandoms

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Batman - All Media Types - 533; 76.47%

DCU - 173; 24.82%

Justice League - All Media Types - 164; 23.53%

DCU (Comics) - 52; 7.46%

Young Justice (Cartoon) - 24; 3.44%

Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics) - 17; 2.44%

Superman - All Media Types - 16; 2.3%

Young Justice - All Media Types - 16; 2.3%

DC Extended Universe - 14; 2.01%

Confused about why these numbers add up to more than 100%? As stated in #8 of Disclaimers, many stories may include two or more of these fandoms.

Characters

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Danny Fenton - 664; 95.27%

Bruce Wayne - 433; 62.12%

Jason Todd - 396; 56.81%

Dick Grayson - 297; 42.61%

Tim Drake - 294; 42.18%

Damian Wayne - 287; 41.18%

Jazz Fenton - 215; 30.85%

John Constantine - 176; 25.25%

Tucker Foley - 169; 24.25%

Sam Manson - 167; 23.96%

Relationships

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Danny Fenton & Jason Todd - 142; 20.37%

Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne - 102; 14.63%

Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne - 95; 13.63%

Batfamily Members & Danny Fenton - 92; 13.2%

Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton - 82; 11.76%

Danny Fenton/Jason Todd - 67; 9.61%

Tim Drake & Danny Fenton - 64; 9.18%

Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson - 58; 8.32%

Danny Fenton & Dick Grayson - 57; 8.18%

Tim Drake/Danny Fenton - 43; 6.17%

Additional Tags

The number and percentages of each rating- from greatest to least- are as follows:

Not Beta Read - 176; 25.25%

Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom) - 145; 20.8%

Danny Fenton Needs a Hug - 104; 14.92%

Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton - 91; 13.06% [!]

Hurt/Comfort - 87; 12.48%

Eldritch Danny Fenton - 87; 12.48%

Other Additional Tags To Be Added - 85; 12.2%

BAMF Danny Fenton - 76; 10.9%

Danny Fenton is a Little Shit - 66; 9.47%

[!]: At this time there appears to be no consensus on what tag to use to describe the Fenton parents. Although "Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton" appears to be the most common, some other tags include:

Jack and Maddie's A+ Parenting

Fenton Parents' A+ Parenting

Jack and Maddy's D- Parenting (This was how the author spelled the tag)

The Fentons' A+ Parenting

The Fenton Parents Are Bad but not evil

Danny Fenton's Parents Bashing

Key Takeaways

To wrap up this entire post, let's look at some at some important or intriguing details we've gleaned from these statistics.

Most stories with this tag are Rated Teen.

Similarly, most stories do not have applicable Archive Warnings.

Gen fics, or stories without romance, make up the most Ghost King Danny fics for the crossover.

Batman - All Media Types sweeps up the competition and can be found in most crossovers.

This may be surprising to some, but Bruce Wayne appears in more crossovers under the Ghost King banner than any of his children.

More people have written about Danny Fenton & Jason Todd in a platonic relationship than a romantic one.

There have been arguments that depictions of Jack and Maddie as bad parents are everywhere in the crossover. Numbers show, however, that for the Ghost King Danny Fenton tag it is very unlikely. Even if there were a hundred more fics that use one of the alternate tags, that would still only be 27.4%. That's little over 1/4 of all Ghost King DPxDC fics. Now, 1/4 might sound like a lot, but when you consider that there are 3/4 of other stories that do not include this concept, or the Fenton parents' skills are irrelevant to the story told, that's not actually as many as it would seem.

---

For more information about these statistics, or the work that went into gathering this info, feel free to ask!

But I hope you all learned something new with this foray of mine. I know I learned a lot about the DPxDC community too. Thank you for reading.

[utilitycaster]

Threatened this once as a throwaway tag, so: let's talk about why "Justice for Adeen Tasithar" as an attempted criticism of Essek is absolutely wild as a choice.

Disclaimer: there are many deeply annoying fans of Essek who do not seem to understand that the narrative and the cast (and by extension, merch/official art/comics) will treat him differently for being an NPC, even if he is a very important NPC and a member of the Mighty Nein, and you are justified in being annoyed. There are also a number of equally annoying Essek haters, most of whom are bitter shippers who have (correctly) realized it's slightly more palatable to others in the fandom to openly hate on Essek than on a PC; or else they are the miserable souls who think that every minute spent on a character other than their personal favorite stolen and wasted time. I am a firm believer in this post; everyone is annoying and complaining on your own blog about it is your absolute right. Also, both in regards to the fans mentioned above and the characters mentioned below, it is possible for people on two opposite sides of a position to both suck.

The first issue is the phrase itself; it co-opts a statement usually used for victims of hate crimes or political prisoners in the real world, and makes it unironically about a pretend guy who had precisely one scene, which is certainly a choice. I'm not actually opposed to using "Justice for" jokingly in fandom, but it is weird to use it relatively seriously in fandom.

The second is that Adeen Tasithar is a member of one of the Dens of the Kryn Dynasty, and is a Taskhand, a term reserved for people with high-level military responsibilities, and is a member of the Bright Queen's Court. During wartime. Coupled with the fact that Essek, who, as described below, is never portrayed as particularly cruel nor petty despite his many flaws, thinks Adeen genuinely does suck, this means that at best, Adeen Tasithar is heavily involved in military operations at a very high level and is in some way personally unpleasant. At, frankly, not even worst, we're talking D&D Donald Rumsfeld. Now, we can debate whether Essek is a war criminal or merely traitorous (not on this post though, because I don't care and it's not relevant), but, while we know very little about Adeen Tasithar, it's not an overreach to say that this man has a pretty strong chance of being guilty of his own war crimes. In general, calling for justice is something I'd hesitate to use in an "the enemy of my enemy" manner, especially if it's well within reason to consider that you're talking about Ludinus Da'leth's Kryn counterpart.

The third is that while you're under no obligation to like Essek, he really is, in general, portrayed as a decent judge of character and a terrible judge of whether selfishly following his own ambition was appropriate and what the consequences might be. He detests the members of the Cerberus Assembly with whom he works; he likes the Mighty Nein despite them ultimately being his potential undoing. He has a few friends in the Dynasty and cares about his (unambiguously good) brother, and feels remorse about his father. Essek has done terrible things in the service of his goals; but directly throwing an innocent under the bus (vs. setting into motion things that will, as a side effect, lead to innocent collateral damage, which he obviously will do) isn't his style. Again, at the very least, Adeen Tasithar is someone whom Essek genuinely believes is a bad person (note that Essek, by this time, also considers himself to be a bad person, and Trent Ikithon to be a "fuck hole", which might help your understanding of scale here). This doesn't mean Tasithar deserves what he got, but frankly, in a campaign about people who got a lot of things they didn't deserve, it's a pretty blatant straw-grasp onto a side character with the briefest of appearances to decide he's your poster boy victim just so that you can go full spiked bat on a character you dislike.

The fourth is that there's never any connection to how Essek not being friends with the Mighty Nein (or entering a relationship with Caleb) would provide justice for Adeen Tasithar, who is in an Empire prison by the end following the exchange during peace talks. It's actually entirely possible that the Empire eventually figures things out re: Adeen, notably because memory modification as a criminal act is going to be really fresh in their minds following the Ikithon trial (and if they interrogate Trent, it's also possible the Empire finds out about Essek). Essek is already a fugitive from the Dynasty and cannot move freely through the Empire as a drow whom assembly members would recognize. The guy didn't get off scot free anyway, so really, he is going to suffer to some extent; you just want him to experience abject and total misery, rather than constant fear tempered with a small degree of happiness, like some kind of sicko, or megachurch member.

The final one is that "justice for Yeza Brenatto" or "I don't like that Essek worked with the Assembly even if he wasn't happy about it" would actually be far more reasonable statements to make. Yeza was, in fact, a simple alchemist who was forced to become a pawn in the game being played by, among other people, Essek, and suffered immensely for it. The Assembly does in fact suck. And yet, rather than admit Caleb also considered working with the Assembly for selfish reasons, or that Veth, you know, exists people jump to woobify some random NPC about whom we know basically nothing other than "Military guy, well-connected politically."

So anyway: feel however you want about Essek; but if you're on Adeen Tasithar's bandwagon, I don't think you actually are terribly bothered by hypothetical fictional war crimes. I think you just are too spineless and online to say "I dislike Essek" and needed to construct an elaborate poor reason why.

[abeastfrombelow]

On one hand, I definitely understand all the trauma survivors who do not want to see or engage with any kind of media or romantic story that remotely could be traumatic to anyone involved. After all, one of the symptoms of PTSD is avoidance.

But at the same time, even ignoring all the kinks/fetishes one can acquire through going through traumatic experiences (of which I have many!), there's also the fact that people who have gone through abuse can feel most comfortable in those experiences. That's how a lot of childhood trauma survivors can end up in abusive relationships down the road, it's a documented phenomenon. And when you've been subjected to extreme abuse (RAMCOA specifically, but it could apply to any number of abusive scenarios) sometimes it can be helpful to reclaim certain painful scenarios and change them to be pleasurable ones.

For me, I know many parts of myself would desire to return to my abusers if they didn't have the outlets of putting their desires into fiction, into stories and drawings and private scenarios. They feel inherently broken for having desires, feel like they are destined to repeat what has been done to them onto others because of their desires or intrusive thoughts, feel like our abusers are the only ones who will accept them and understand them. By putting it on the page, they have an alternative. They can grow past feeling broken and like they have no future outside of what the people who hurt us dictated, because they have hobbies and outlets they enjoy. Making disturbing media is an effective coping mechanism for them!

I don't claim to have all the answers for the differing needs in the community of people who have survived trauma. I don't know the most effective way to separate myself from other people who want to avoid what I create, nor do I know how much should be my responsibility (should I preemptively block people who don't share my views? Should I just wait until they block me?) but I do know that we should all try to have compassion for the people on both sides. People who are repulsed by disturbing media should have compassion for those who find freedom in producing it, and vice versa.

As for me personally? I'll just continue tagging things appropriately and thoroughly, allowing others to decide for themselves if it is safe for them to interact with me and to what level is safe for them, and respecting when people block me or don't desire for me to interact with them because of the things I create. I'll continue coping as best as I can, and I dearly hope others can do the same based on what is best for them

[ask-armand]

Hey man ooc I really think for your sake you shouldn't mention Marius much on this blog, at least not in defence of him. I've seen Armand blogs get ripped to shreds over this in the past, and at least one person had a mental break down over being called a pedophile supporter so much. Be careful.

OOC: Okay, going out of character for a minute. I won't make a habit of it but I wanted to address this. Number one, thanks for looking out for me, anon. You're right, there's some really fierce infighting in this fandom and the drama can get nasty. I do anticipate getting some hate in the inbox. But I'm not scared of it.

What I am begging people to understand is that I'm just playing a character. Armand's opinions are not representative of my own. Armand does love Marius, for better or worse. Occasionally I'm going to mention it, and I'm not going to always break character to say "by the way this is an unhealthy relationship". If you're someone who's genuinely triggered by Marius/Armand, be aware of that. I'll tag it appropriately.

Everyone is entitled to their opinions about these characters. It's totally reasonable to dislike a character. Like, I can't stand David Talbot. Every time he shows up I'm annoyed. I think he's insufferable, and if he was real I would be horrified by his behavior. But he's not real. And there are characters I love (Armand) who I realize are also horrible. And if I harassed real people for liking an imaginary person I hate, I'd be the asshole. And I'd be making it clear to everyone that I can't separate fiction from reality.

So, to close this out, I'm aware of the risks. I'm not turning this blog into the Marius Defense Squad (nor should anyone assume I would), but I'm not going to completely avoid talking about him either.

Edit to add: Marius mentions will be tagged wiith #marius de romanus and #marius/armand.

[forest-of-stories]

I decided to write a bit about my recent NaNoWriMo project, in the form of an imaginary Q&A, for my own amusement (and hopefully yours).

What did you write during NaNoWriMo, Nevanna?

My project (which is ongoing, since I reached neither a conclusion nor the 50,000-word goal) was a multi-chapter fanfic for The Magnus Archives, whose working title is Eye to Eye, but I’ve been referring to it as the Hypnotists AU, after the book series on which it’s based.

Those are kids’ books.  Are you aging down the characters?

Some of them! The original Archives crew, among others, will be portrayed as teenagers – which is a bit older than Gordon Korman’s protagonists, but I’m taking creative license in a number of areas, including this one.

For the sake of teenage romance?

Yep.  And also teenage super-powers angst.

How closely does your fic follow Korman’s plotting?

It’s difficult to say for sure at the first-draft stage, but I plan to echo at least a few of the plot beats – primarily the ones that I liked, which is by no means all of them.  More on that in a moment.

Do the Fear Entities (and their cults) exist in this world?

Not as such, no.  This is a “characters from Fandom A, meet worldbuilding of Fandom B” fusion.  That said, I will hopefully have the opportunity to bring in some familiar faces from TMA and incorporate aspects of their signature imagery and methods.

Do readers need to have read the Hypnotists trilogy to understand your fic?

I am hoping that they will not! I’m writing this for TMA fans, first and foremost, since I know a lot more of them.  However, if my fic prompts some of those fans to read the books, I’d be interested to hear what you think of them.

So, you’d recommend the books to people who haven’t read them?

Yes and no.  A lot of the world-building and plotting choices actually bothered or just annoyed me: specifically, the use of the “here is how many pivotal historical events and achievements were the result of supernatural meddling” trope, and the repeated emphasis on the protagonist’s Special Bloodlines in particular.  Also, some of the humor is mean-spirited (an overweight side character is the butt of several jokes), and I am hopelessly cynical about the political conspiracy that provides the main conflict in the first volume.  However, I was already an adult when these books were published, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed some of these things when I was in their target demographic.

All of that said, despite my feelings about that main conflict, a lot of the smaller, personal struggles and relationships are very well-realized.  No matter your age, if you enjoy the “school for psychic kids” trope, if you enjoy stories about the terrifying implications of mind control (both for the people who can use it and the people who are more or less helpless against it), or if you enjoy manipulative, charming mentor characters, you will probably find something to like about the series.  I enjoy all three, so part of the inspiration for my project was the “these storytelling choices are really cool, how would they work in a different story?” reaction that I had upon rereading the books.  A fusion with yet another intellectual property isn’t the only answer to this question, of course, but it’s where I landed.

Which pairings do you plan to include?

At the moment, I plan to devote some attention to at least three canon pairings (including one that, when I started contemplating this version of their dynamic, surprised me with how invested I was!), and I’m contemplating one or two that arose from popular fan interpretation.  All relationships will be appropriately tagged in the AO3 metadata, of course.

So you plan on posting this?

Yes, though I don’t have a clear timeline for when I will be sharing it.  I hope that I’ve interested some people enough that they’ll give it a look when I finally do!

[nineteenninety-six]

A Change of Plans

I missed writing for Adam and I haven’t recieved a request for him in ages so here you go. 

I hope tumblr actually works and lets my stuff show up in the tags, because I’m tired of none of my stuff appearing :/

"What do you mean I have to take Adam with me today?" Tommy questioned his wife incredulously.

"I mean you have to take him with you. I won't be able to bring him" (Y/N) told him as she got ready for the day

Tommy looked at his eleven-month-old who was playing on the bed before he turned back to his wife.

"And why not?"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at him, "It's a hospital, Tommy, it's not suitable for babies and I don't want him to catch anything"

Tommy couldn't argue against her reasoning so he let out a huff of frustration and ran his hand over his face. He had a busy day planned and now he had to reschedule and see how much he could do from his office.

They didn't have a nanny, neither him nor (Y/N) seeing the point since (Y/N) cared for Adam, but even if they did have one, neither of them felt comfortable of leaving their son with one for an entire day

"Tell Ben he's paying us back somehow" Tommy grumbled to his wife as he took a seat on the bed

(Y/N) snorted, "Don't worry, I'II make sure he knows"

Ben, (Y/N)'s younger brother had landed himself in hospital, he was okay, he wasn't seriously injured but (Y/N) was going to spend the day with him to make sure everything was fine.

Adam crawled over to where his father sat and ambled onto his lap. His small chubby hand gripped his father's shirt tightly, causing creases.

Tommy smiled down at his son, not even caring about the creases before he picked him up and held him close to his chest

"We'll meet you downstairs," He told his wife, getting a hum in response.

Tommy took Adam downstairs to the dining room so that they could have breakfast but took a minute to have a driver to come to pick him up as he would be unable to drive himself, along with Adam.

The housekeepers quickly set out breakfast but as usual, Tommy ignored the food in front of him and only had a cup of tea

(Y/N) came down not long after, fully dressed and ready and took her usual seat at the table.

"His bag of things is near the door. Don't forget it" (Y/N) informed him after taking a bite of toast

Tommy nodded," I won't"

A beep from outside of the house signalled (Y/N)'s cab had arrived and she quickly downed her tea before pressing a kiss to Tommy's lips and then multiple around Adam's face, making the baby boy squeal.

"I've got to go but I love you" (Y/N) gave Tommy one last kiss before standing up “I'll see you tonight"

Tommy watched her leave and not long after he heard the front door open and then close. He then sighed and looked at his son,

"It's just you and me today"

Adam simply gurgled at him

Tommy signed again before he stretched his arms and called for Mary to look after Adam whilst he finished getting dressed.

When he returned downstairs, he held Adam's tiny jumper in his hands. He found Mary with his son in the living room, the trusted housekeeper was entertaining him with his little wooden toys

He walked over to them and motioned the jumper at Mary who instantly caught on and moved Adam so that he was facing his father and adjusted her grip

Tommy tried to do it as efficiently as possible but as soon as it touched the top of his head, Adam began to squirm and whine in discomfort and Tommy soothed him and made quick work of finishing putting the jumper on him.

When Adam's head popped through the hole, he gave his father a frown and a pout causing Tommy to let at a small chuckle

Adam didn't like it when clothes had to go over his head to be able to wear it and considering the majority of his clothes had to be put on that way, it made mornings and evening a bit longer. He was fine as soon as his head popped through, only becoming a bit disgruntled but his facial expressions never failed to bring a smile to Tommy's face.

Frances entered at that moment and informed Tommy that the driver was waiting outside.

Tommy made his way into the foyer with Mary following him with Adam still in her arms and slipped on his coat once picked up Adam's bag. Once he made sure that he had everything, he picked Adam up from Mary's hold and made his way outside to where the car was waiting.

The driver, well aware of the baby that rested in Tommy's arms drove carefully and at a respectful speed and so they arrived in Small Heath later than usual but Tommy didn't care

He slipped into his office and dumped Adam's bag on one of the chairs before he sat in his and adjusted Adam so that they were facing each other.

“It could be worse couldn’t it?” He asked rhetorically.

Adam simply let out his usual baby babbles and stretched out so that he could get closer to his father and Tommy settled him on his chest so that Adam could nestle his face into his neck.   

It could be worse, Tommy mused. Adam was a calm baby, wasn’t easily irritated or annoyed and was easily content with chilling in his father’s arms.

Tommy got stuck into his work and at some point, Adam had fallen asleep and when Tommy feels his arm begin to turn numb, he moves Adam onto the other one and slowly paces around his office. He eyed the small couch that sat in his office and thought about how he could place Adam down and create a barrier made out of coats and jackets so that he wouldn’t roll off but changed his mind last minute, he found that he quite liked the weight of his son in his arms and figured he could live with tired arms for the rest of the day.

After a few more minutes he got back to work, figuring it was better to get as much work done before he woke up and Tommy had to feed him. 

Tommy’s peace was quickly interrupted when his aunt barged in, clearly prepared to argue with him about something but the words she prepared died on her lips when she spotted her great-nephew in Tommy’s arms.

Polly closed the door behind her quietly and made her way over to his desk.

“You’ve got Adam today? Where’s (Y/N)?” She asked

“Ben’s in the hospital, she didn’t want to bring him with her,” Tommy explained.

“Understandable--” Polly’s sentence was cut off by a loud whine coming from Adam as he woke up from his nap.

Tommy stood up and made his way over to where he last bag and began to look through it.

“Does he need feeding?” Polly asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let me take him, you can get your work done.”

Tommy didn’t object and passed Adam over to her, he trusted his aunt to look after his son.

“Thank you.”

With them gone, Tommy took the opportunity to have his first smoke of day along with pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He looked around his office and out of the window of his office where he could see the happenings of the betting den and decided that it wasn’t the most appropriate place to bring a baby so she decided that when Polly returned with Adam, he would return home where it was more comfortable and an overall better environment for a baby.

When Polly returned with a very happy Adam who was wiggling on her hip, he told him about his plans, she agreed with his reasoning and called a car for him. 

Tommy got himself and Adam ready, wholeheartedly listening to the babbles

and murmurs of his son who was energized after his nap and meal.

As soon as he arrived home, Tommy let Adam down, letting the boy crawl to his heart’s desire. The boy followed him with a giggle as he made his way into the living room and the sound of tiny slaps on the floor as his son crawled made Tommy smile.

Tommy spent the rest of his afternoon with his son and didn’t even hear when (Y/N) returned home, so caught up with playing with Adam

“It’s so good to see my favourite boys” (Y/N) cooed as she sat next to him on the couch.

Tommy’s shoulders tensed in surprise before he turned to his wife with a small grin,

“How was your day?”

(Y/N) greeted him with a brief kiss, “It was alright, considering.”

“Ben?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“How long have you been home?” (Y/N) asked as he pulled Adam on to her lap, a large smile on her face.

“Since lunch. Decided to make it a half-day.”

(Y/N) hummed in understanding as she pressed a kiss to Adam’s cheek.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get much work done?”

“Had him in one hand and was writing with the other, I think I spent more time taking a break because my arm when number than I did doing work.”

(Y/N) laughed at the image that appeared in her head before she reassured him that everything was going back to normal the next day.”

That night, after Adam was put to bed and Tommy and (Y/N) were cuddled up together, Tommy spoke about something that had been on his mind for the past couple of hours.

“I was thinking about taking a few days off each month…” Tommy said, “I want to spend more time with you and Adam.”

(Y/N) sent Tommy a smile that made his feel warm inside, “I like the sound of that.”

Tommy gave her kiss before both of them laid down in bed properly, “Not looking after Adam alone again though, today was exhausting.”

(Y/N) laughed, “That’s more of a reason to do it again.”

Tommy simply rolled his eyes and let out a light-hearted huff. 

[tams-writeblr]

Once I’m gone

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: major character death

Category: F/M (main couple), Multi (side characters)

Fandom: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Relationship: Mikasa Ackermann / Eren Jaeger | various side couples

Characters: Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackermann, Armin Arlelt, Zeke Jaeger, Hange Zoe, Floch Forster, Ymir, Reiner Braun, Pieck Finger, Historia Reiss, several others will make a cameo

Additional Tags: Modern AU | established relationship | toxic behaviour | Eren suffers from Huntington’s disease and tries to settle his matters before he dies | suicial blockhead Eren | aged up characters (by ten years) | suicide tw | depression tw | mental diseases tw | deathly diseases tw | this is clearly not write what you know, but I’m giving my very best to representate the topics as good as I can | this all basically came to me as a fever dream | you remember Thirteen from House, M.D.? I still have a huge crush on her so this version of Eren is greatly inspired by her <3

Language: English (not native, I’m trying my best you guys)

Stats: ongoing - Chapter 1/15 - Part 2/4 - 1507 of 3652 words

Summary: Eren Jaeger knew for years that he inherited Huntington’s disease from his late mother. When he first notices symptoms on him, his long protected plan, to end his life before reaching the critical state of his illness,  awakes. But there is still Mikasa, his girlfriend and the only person in the world he cares about more than about himself, and he can’t leave her alone and grieving. It’s time to find a substitute for when Eren is gone. With the help of a new friend Eren tries to scare away Mikasa while driving her into the arms of someone new.

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Charlatans and Pills - Part 2/4

<<previous

“Hey Mama”, the small, dark haired boy said and pulled his hand towards the woman that sat sunk down on an uncomfortable looking chair.

She didn’t directly look at him, only giving his pulled out hand a small, arbitrary glance and looked up towards the man, standing behind Eren.

“But Carla, Dear”, Eren's father said with a cheerful tone. “Shake at least our Eren’s hand. Aren’t you happy that we are visiting you?”

A thin lipped smile crawled over Carla’s face and her light brown eyes finally found Eren’s glance. “Eren”, she sighed recognizing and rather than just taking his hand, she slipped down her chair and tightly hugged him.

Tighter than Eren would have liked it. He looked up to his father, seeking help, insecure how to behave. She still was his mother, the one that always loved him and guessed every wish from his eyes.

Eren had found out that she was sick, three years ago. Back then they also told him, he eventually would get the same sickness. She often dropped things and so she did on his eleventh birthday with a knife to cut his cake. It fell right on her foot and she had to go to the hospital. After this incident, she never returned to her old self. She behaved strangely ever so often, screaming at his dad for obviously no reason.

But the strangest was when Eren came home from school one day. His father was still at work, he had a small practice in the middle of town, and usually a delicious lunch was waiting for him when he returned home from school. But on this day nothing smelled nice through the house, on the contrary it stank horribly of burned food and everything was full with smoke. Eren found his mother in the upstairs bathroom, her hands were dripping with blood, he had found shards in the kitchen.

“What do you want?”, his mother screamed and held her blood stained hands in front of her face. “Get out! I have to hide from the smoke!”

Puzzled Eren neared his mother. “But Mama, you have to turn off the oven or else whatever's on there will burn even more. Did you cut yourself? Do you need a bandaid?”

“Get our!”, Carla yelled again. “Who the hell are you, how did you get into my house?”

Helpless tears wobbled out of big, green child’s eyes. “Mama”, he whined and ducked away under a roll of toilet paper his mother threw at him. Desperately the boy backed out of the bathroom and ran back to the kitchen where he pulled all knobs of the oven until the red control light went off, then he remembered what his father always had hammered inside his little head: to call him at work, when something was wrong with Mum.

“The number is pinned on the fridge”, he had told him again and again. “I’ll be with you within 15 minutes.” If not at this moment, when should he bother his father at work? Quickly the boy looked for the phone around the smoke filled house, luckily he found it in the living room and not like so often in his parents bedroom. He wouldn’t have dared to walk past the upper bathroom in which he still suspected his mother.

His father indeed arrived within minutes. He found Carla beneath the toilet, sunk down and asleep and immediately called an ambulance. “I’m so sorry”, he murmured again and again while pressing the sobbing and crying Eren against him. “You’ll never have to be alone with her again. Everything will be alright.”

His mother didn’t return home after this incident. His father explained to him that she would now live somewhere, where people could look after her more appropriately. There no knife would fall on her food ever again and she wouldn’t burn any more pans.

But Eren found the place where they brought her simply terrifying. There were only old people. Not old people like his father but really old, probably older than his grandparents. It always smelled strangely and scary sounds came from some chambers.

Eren curled out of his mother’s embrace and his father came to help him.

“There, there Carla, not so fiercely”, he laughed and directed her gently back towards her chair. Then he took place across from her and placed a hand on her knee. “Well my Dear, how are you feeling today?”

Carla looked at him for a long time with a stoic face. At that her left arm twitched permanently. It hit against her thigh and the seating of the chair.

Eren watched the movement hypnotized and flinched when his mother took a deep, loud breath.

“Grisha”, she said with unmistakable joy in her voice. her twitching arm raised and her hand landed accurately on her husband’s. A smile crept towards her lips. “My Dear…” Suddenly she was once again his mother, the pretty woman with light brown eyes and dark hair, sun kissed skin and the most beautiful smile in the world.

Eren felt lighter than before and placed his small child’s hand above his mother’s. She only looked at him briefly, out of the corner of her eyes, before taxing Grisha again. The three of them stayed like this for a while in total silence. Only a far away, old and male voice asked when it was finally time for dinner.

The clearing of a throat crushed the family idly and Eren and his mother heavily flinched.

Carla’s head shot high to look at the creator of the noice’s face. Her own one suddenly started to twitch wildly.

“Mr. Jäger, can I please talk to you for a moment?”, a man in a white coat said. From his father Eren knew that doctors dressed like that.

Grisha got up and agreed with a dark look on his face. “Eren, sit down for so long. I’ll be right back.”

“You are a doctor?”, Eren heard the other man ask when he walked away with his father. The latter didn’t answer, maybe he had only nodded. “Then you must know about the condition your wife is in.”

Eren couldn’t hear more from the conversation. But from the look on his mother’s face, he could tell that her glance followed them.

He didn’t want to turn out like her. What was that for a life? Eren still couldn’t quite understand what was wrong with his mother, but he knew she always forgot things, sometimes even him or his father and that she always flapped around her arms. He didn’t want that, especially not the thing with forgetting. Carefully he took her hand between both of his. “I’m not gonna forget you, Mama”, he said tenderly and patted her hand that was gaunt and wiry. “I promise.”

Carla looked at her boy dumbfounded before pulling her eyebrows into a painful grimace. “Oh Eren, my little baby,” she cried and thick tears wobbled out of her eyes. Fragile and smaller as he remembered her she sat on that horribly uncomfortable chair, her hand between the small palms of her son.

Scared by her sudden burst of emotion Eren pulled his hands away. Two faces, so similar to each other that everyone would see their connection, looked at each other with a mixture of horror and hurt.

When his father returned, Eren asked him to leave.

“Come back soon!”, he heard his mother say softly when Grisha leaned down to her and kissed her.

He promised they would, of course he did. And of course they kept their promise. Eren couldn’t say how many hours of his youth he had spent in that foster home that cared for his mother. The doctors and nurses there did a wonderful job, they deeply cared for his mother, who visibly crumpled infront of her small family’s eyes. She got thinner and thinner and ever more erratic. Until she neither recognized Grisha nor Eren. Sometimes she remembered to have a son called Eren but in her memory he was still a ten-years-old that had broken his arm while wrestling with his friends. That the handsome young man infront of her was her small Eren, she wouldn’t get the idea despite their striking resemblance.

Finally her spasticies became so bad that it became too dangerous to let her eat solid food and she got a feeding tube. From this moment on, things went continuously down hill for Carla Jäger, whose husband was a doctor himself who slowly broke down by looking at her.

Almost exactly ten years after moving to the foster home and a little over 13 years after her diagnosis Carla died on a stormy fall evening. She hadn’t seen her son in four month, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

But losing his mother had broken something deep inside of Eren. Now a full grown man, he knew which fate his mother had handed down to him. But he also knew back than, how he would be reacting towards it, when his time came.

                                                                               >>next

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Author’s Note: Hey, thank you for coming back to me! I hope you don’t mind when long flashbacks like this are all in Italics, I know they can be hard to read. Just for Context: Carla was 30 when she had Eren in this story and she dies at 51. Can’t have a main character without a tragic family backstory, can we? See you for the next part!

[panharmonium]

...and damn the consequences

These are just some thinky-thoughts that I suppose could be an addendum to this old piece about Morgana, since I saw a couple of different discussion threads in that general vein in the tag a while back, and you know reading about this show always gets my brain going. :)

Most of what I ran into was written with the intention of shifting the blame for Morgana's issues away from Merlin, which is something I appreciate, personally - I've talked plenty myself about the myriad reasons why Merlin does not owe Morgana his secret and does not deserve "blame" for the things she does.  

But when the blame is shifted (rightly) away from Merlin, it does sometimes end up getting pushed onto others.  And while I do understand where that impulse comes from, I actually tend to approach this from a slightly different perspective, so since I don't think I've ever typed up anything about this particular subject before, I figured I might as well set down a few potential things to consider about a) Morgana (in relation to Gaius, specifically), and b) the more general question of "the blame" (and whether it's really a productive line of discussion, given that the question only has one legitimate answer, for me, at least).

disclaimer, as always: these are just my own thoughts, and nobody is obligated to share them!  If my particular perspective isn't interesting to you, don't worry about it - I'm just hanging out talking to myself on my own blog, so feel free to scroll past and continue interpreting the show in whatever way is most enjoyable for you!

i. my favourite patient is always welcome

So, first of all - some thoughts about Gaius.

I was really surprised at how infrequently Gaius appeared, when I first started poking around in the fandom.  For such a major character, and for someone who is such a huge part of Merlin's life, I definitely thought he would be more prominent, but essentially the sorts of posts I've seen about him are mostly restricted to two things: 1) memes, and 2) call-outs (he's in a very similar position to Kilgharrah, in that way).   

I don't necessarily think those things do him justice, and there’s a lot more we could talk about when it comes to his character, but for now, the only thing I'm really interested in working on is maybe adding some nuance to the perpetual question of Gaius, Morgana, Merlin, and "the blame."  

(For clarity’s sake: nothing that follows necessarily means that Gaius makes the “right” decisions.  The entire point of his character's history is in fact his failure to always do the right thing - see: Kilgharrah's line where he tells Gaius to “do nothing," because “that is, after all, your talent."  What I’m saying in the section that follows is just that there's more to consider about the choices Gaius makes than “he's a coward.")

So - some things to consider, when we think about Gaius and Morgana:  

1) One thing I'm not always sure people realize about this show is that neither Gaius nor Merlin knows that Morgana has magic until 2.03.  

And I definitely can see why people don’t necessarily realize it, because as we all know this show can be a little haphazard/loosey-goosey with its worldbuilding, but just to help clarify: until 2.03, Gaius does not know that Morgana has magic.  He knows that "some of the things she dreamt" have indicated certain future events (NOT all of them, importantly - more on that later), but her dream-visions are also specifically stated to be a separate gift from sorcery - dream-visions and magic are clearly established to be different things in this show, and prior to 2.03, Morgana has only ever demonstrated one of these abilities.  

At the end of 1.07, Merlin asks, "Is she like me?  Does she have the gift?" and Gaius's response is, "I hope not, for her sake."  Earlier, he also says, "The gift of prophecy is too close to the work of magic," indicating that the two things are, in fact, different abilities (if equally dangerous ones, in Uther's eyes).  “It's said to be an innate ability.  Those who have it are born that way.”  Whereas magic, in the Merlin-verse, is a learned skill.  We spend so much time around Merlin that we tend to transfer his experience to all other magic-users, but we have to remember that Merlin, in this world, is directly stated to be unique.  He uses magic without spells, without study; he tells Gaius he was born doing it.  But when Gaius hears Merlin say this, his response is, "That's impossible."  It's not something that happens.  

In the Merlin BBC-verse, people can be born with the "gift" - the ability to use magic - but their magic doesn't just manifest on its own.  What happens to Merlin (being able to use magic "before he could talk," with no training and no spells) and Morgana (starting a fire accidentally) is NOT something that is indicated to ever happen to other magic-possessors.  We aren't being introduced to a world where magical children will automatically start manifesting their magic in dangerous ways unless they're trained to use their abilities (ie, the X-Men model, or the Force-sensitive child model, where choosing not to teach someone is automatically irresponsible ).  Magic, as presented to us in this show, is something that cannot be used without training or specific spells/power-amplifying artifacts.  Merlin (and, later, Morgana) are exceptions to a universal rule.

And this is just something to keep in mind, because it does provide some context for Gaius's decisions.  It doesn't mean people have to agree with the choices he makes - it doesn't even mean *I* always agree with the choices he makes, to be honest - but I do think it's worthwhile to at least remember that Gaius doesn't make his decisions thoughtlessly.  As far as Gaius knows, even if Morgana did have magic, there is no way that it could ever manifest and become an issue for her without her being trained.  If she doesn't learn how to use magic, she can't use it, period.  And if she can't use it, no one will ever know she has it.  And if no one ever knows she has it, no one can ever kill her for it.  

(Once we hit 2.03, the conversation changes, obviously.  It becomes clear that Morgana is some kind of anomaly as well, and at that point, the only appropriate path forward is to tell her she has magic.)

(Which is, of course, precisely what Merlin does.)

2) According to the show, only "some of" Morgana's dreams have actually played out in real life; others have just been regular nightmares (and we see later on that even some of her prophetic dreams are vague to the point of incomprehensibility - eg, she dreams about a raven in 2.01, but how would she ever know what that meant, or if it meant anything at all, barring external context?)  Some of the risk/benefit analysis on Gaius's part has to take this problem into account - what if he did tell her that some of her dreams might be prophecies?  There would be no way for anyone to sort out which ones were real and which ones were just nightmares.  And Gaius has known Morgana all her life - he knows what she's like; he knows how headstrong she is.  She would assume all of her dreams were real, and she would act on all of them, because what if the one time she ignored a dream, something bad happened to someone she cares about?  

Gaius is familiar enough with Morgana to know with absolute certainty that this is what she would do.  And he knows that this could SO easily end up getting her killed, either by Uther, who would quickly figure out that something was going on, or by the sheer dangers associated with Morgana throwing herself into confrontations based only on uncertain visions (or worse, regular old dreams).

3) We also have to think about what this show tells us about prophecy in general.  Trying to act on prophetic information, in this world, is firmly established as a dangerous game, one which, more often than not, ends up directly causing the outcomes one was trying to prevent.  Trying to change the future, in the BBC Merlin universe, backfires on people every single time.  In 2.10, the Crystal of Neahtid is framed as holding "a terrible power," and Merlin knows instinctively that "no good [will] come of it," even as he feels compelled to look into it.  In 3.05, Gaius himself says of the Crystal Cave that "the crystals are treacherous," and Kilgharrah says that "to change the future is no simple matter, Merlin.  To do so is fraught with danger."  In Season 5, of course, we all know what happens with Merlin's attempts to prevent Mordred from killing Arthur - it ensures Arthur's death!  And that's not even mentioning all the collateral damage it causes - Kara's execution, Mordred and Morgana’s eventual deaths, etc.

I thought I could alter the future, but instead, I caused it.  I made it happen.

What you did was dangerous, even for someone as gifted as you.

These are truths about the universe in the BBC Merlin world, not Gaius's personal opinions.  Gaius had been brought up steeped in the rules of the Old Religion; he knows how that world works.  The risk posed by Morgana interpreting all of her dreams as prophecies (and the absolute certainty that she would constantly attempt to alter their outcomes) is not a trivial concern or something he should ignore.  It is real, significant, and extremely dangerous, for both Morgana and the people around her.

So in general, I do think there's a broader context to what Gaius does than we typically look at.  I'm not saying that it isn't a sticky situation, and I'm not even saying that Gaius makes the right calls.  All I'm saying is that I think it's worth acknowledging that the decisions he makes are a) always sincerely intended to protect Morgana from a number of very real dangers, not just Uther, and b) founded on more than simple cowardice or carelessness.

ii. of course what really matters is the blame / someone you can blame

More generally -

Whenever I see discussion circulating about Morgana’s descent into villainy, occasionally the conversation can start to feel to me a little bit like that scene in Into the Woods where all the characters start going "so it's HER fault/HIS fault/YOUR fault" as they backtrack further and further along the chain of events and tear apart every single character's innocuous decisions (the consequences of which could not possibly have been foreseen) in order to escape any scrap of personal responsibility, until the Witch interrupts their bickering and rips them a new one for worrying so much about who to blame when they have a real problem to solve.

These blame-placing conversations about Morgana, much like this scene, are interesting and enjoyable to think about in their own ways, but they rarely get quite where I want them to go.  I definitely love seeing people articulate the "we shouldn't blame Merlin for what Morgana does" angle, but things often then slide into "we should blame X person instead", where X person is Kilgharrah or Morgause or Gaius or Uther or whoever.  

And for me, that analysis doesn’t quite hit the mark.  The correct endpoint of "we shouldn't hold Merlin responsible for Morgana's actions" isn't "we should hold X person responsible instead."  The correct endpoint is "the only person responsible for Morgana's actions is Morgana."

The last time I wrote about Morgana like this, I mentioned that ultimately, the difference between Merlin and Morgana for me is that Merlin owns his choices.  He feels guilt, he expresses regret, he apologizes for his mistakes, and he blames himself for his missteps (as well as for other things that aren't remotely his fault).  Morgana, on the other hand, never apologizes for anything (despite the fact that she's made plenty of mistakes worth regretting), and sometimes it feels like in fandom we don't necessarily expect her to do so, as if it's a benchmark we don't need her to meet.

So because I really do have strong feelings about the double standard we use when it comes to Merlin and Morgana, I want to talk for a minute here about Merlin and Gaius’s relationship, to provide a comparison.

Morgana isn't the only person who's had important information about her parentage and potential abilities withheld from her.  Gaius hides both Merlin's dragonlord heritage and the identity of Merlin's father all the way until the end of Season 2, when necessity forces him to reveal the information.  Merlin's mother, for her own part, has been hiding this information from Merlin all his life - out of valid fears for Merlin's own safety, of course, the same way Gaius is trying to protect Morgana.  But still, from Merlin's point of view, in the moment when the information is revealed to him, the justification offered by his guardians is unacceptable.  He is angry and upset, and he feels cheated out of knowledge he deserved to have, the absence of which has negatively affected him all his life.  “I had a right to know,” he keeps saying, on the verge of tears.

Has Merlin been harmed by the choices his guardians made for him, even if said choices were made to protect him?  Yes.  Does he have a right to feel hurt, betrayed, and angry?  Yes.  Is he entitled to every ounce of his righteous rage?  Absolutely.  

Is he also responsible for how he reacts, now that the information has been revealed?  YES.

Merlin has no say in what his parental figures do to him in the name of protecting him, and he has no choice about how it makes him feel.  He does, however, have a choice about what actions he will now take in response.  He can react in a way that hurts others, or he can choose a path of lesser harm.  And there's plenty we can say to justify both options, certainly, but either way, the decision he makes is on him.  

What that means, in short, is this: Merlin is not responsible for what was done to him.  But he is responsible for what he himself does next.  

The same goes for Morgana.  In absolutely no universe would we classify Merlin's behavior as acceptable if he'd reacted to the revelation of his Dragonlord heritage by assassinating Uther, claiming the throne for himself in the name of his murdered kin, and then shooting innocent civilians in the street when the knights refused to recognize his legitimacy.  We would never say that was okay.  And we definitely wouldn't then blame Merlin's downfall on Gaius, saying it was Gaius's fault for withholding information about Merlin's powers for so long.  The choice to act in a harmful way would still be Merlin's, in that situation.

The same standard holds true for Morgana - particularly when she has access to resources that Merlin can't even dream about.  She is rich, beyond his wildest fantasies.  One of her dresses costs more than everything Merlin has ever owned in his life - his house, his land, his livestock, every bushel of wheat he's ever harvested.  She isn't the 1% in comparison to Merlin; she's the 0.0000001% - a princess in all but but name, and one who would presumably be heir to her father's entire estate in addition to everything she already has in Camelot.  

Morgana has the wealth to go anywhere she wants, including places where magic is practiced freely (see Helva, as mentioned in S5).  She has the prestige to affiliate herself with powerful people outside of Camelot, if she chooses to do so.  Any person in her position would have a broad, high-status network of friends and allies, and indeed we do see that Morgana has political ties outside Uther's court (see: how easily she's able to go to Cenred, Agravaine, Annis in Seasons 3/4 and be admitted, recognized, and trusted, as well as her repeated ability to recruit and/or take command of external armies).  

She could leave Camelot if she wanted, learn about her abilities, and build a life for herself elsewhere.  She could stay in Camelot and use her considerable resources to work toward her people's liberation, without indiscriminately murdering and enslaving the innocent poor.  She could seek out other magic-users like Alator in the spirit of true solidarity, as opposed to just using them as tools to get what she wants and then turning on them when they decide that they don’t want to use her sort of tactics to achieve their liberation.  She has hundreds of options, none of which necessarily even require her to forgive or reconcile with the people who harmed her, and none of which are even remotely open to Merlin, who (like Morgana) is still learning about his own abilities, and who (unlike Morgana) has no money, no social power, and no connections that he can leverage or lean upon, besides a tiny village of dirt-poor peasant farmers on the other side of the border with Cenred's kingdom.

Morgana has options.  The choices she makes are hers.  Gaius's decision not to tell her about her dreams is not equivalent to her receiving a blank check for harmful behavior.  She has so many resources.  She has so much power.  She could have chosen so many other paths - like Merlin tries to plead with her, in the crypt, after he tells her that he does not believe she deserves to be executed, despite what she's done: “We can find another way.”

She's the one who says, “There is no other way.”  She makes that decision.  She chooses to dismiss the thousand other paths available to her.  

That's on her.  That is always going to be on her.

iii. i'm going to give you one more chance

This last section...it’s more just a muddle of feels-riddled musing as opposed to a real opinion.  It's not something that has a right answer or a solution; it's just something I ponder sometimes.  

When we talk about harm being done in the real world, we talk about how intentions don't matter.  And that is absolutely true, in terms of both the impact of harmful actions and the harm-doer's responsibility to own what they did/make restitution.  If someone knocks you down, and you break your arm, the impact of that event doesn't change depending on whether the person in question did it on purpose or not.  Your arm's still broken, either way.  Intent doesn't matter, in terms of impact and responsibility - the actual harm done is the same, and the person who knocked you down should still be apologizing and making amends, regardless of whether they intended for you to fall or not.  

However - intent does matter when you're considering the future of your relationship with the person who knocked you down.  It affects how you react to what they did.  It changes how you respond to their actions.  If someone threw you to the ground on purpose, you'd (probably) feel differently about that than if a friend knocked you down because they were trying to pull you out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, or because they were carrying too many things in their arms and didn't see you turn the corner.

I think about this sometimes when it comes to Morgana and Merlin.

I don't want to frame this as "Morgana should have forgiven everybody who hurt her," because I don't think that's the case.  I've written before about how I fully understand her reasons for ultimately rejecting Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Gaius, etc.  She's not required to reconcile with anybody if she doesn't want to.

At the same time, though, I do wonder sometimes about intent.  And sometimes I ask myself how things might have been different if Morgana had considered intent, before things went completely to hell, and whether the story’s ultimate outcome might have changed, if she had given even just one of these people a chance.

Morgana has plenty of reasons extend some degree of understanding to the people who caused her pain.  The vast majority of the people who caused Morgana harm did so either a) out of love, in a sincere attempt to protect her from being killed, b) without any knowledge of the fact that she needed help, or c) after they thought she was attempting to kill everybody in the city.  Everything Gaius ever conceals from her is concealed with the intention of keeping her safe.  Arthur knows absolutely nothing about Morgana's parentage until after Morgana has already violently invaded Camelot, and he knows nothing about her prophecies/magic, either.  Gwen, too, is never told anything about Morgana's parentage or her magic, even though Gwen supports Morgana when Morgana thinks her dreams might be sorcery.  And Morgana never comes to Merlin for help, despite his demonstrated support in 2.03 - what he does later, in 2.11, is a response to him legitimately thinking that she is actively trying to kill everyone in Camelot.  When she comes back a year later, he forgives her for it immediately, and when he realizes she has turned against them again, he STILL tries to talk her around, to offer his hand.  

So I think about that sometimes.  And I wonder what would have happened if Morgana had chosen to recognize things like this.  Merlin, for his own part, always chooses to recognize things like this when it comes to the people who've done him wrong (and by this I do not mean to say that his response is always the best one - I'm not talking about him consistently allowing Arthur to continue oppressing him and his community, here.  I'm talking about him, on an interpersonal level, being able to recognize when the people who've harmed him did so in an attempt to keep him safe, or without fully understanding the potential consequences of their actions.)  

Merlin understands that his mother lied about Balinor and the dragonlords in an attempt to protect him, and he continues to love her in spite of the fact that the deception legitimately hurt him.  He understands when Gaius gives Finna up to Arthur, because he know that Gaius sincerely believed her to be a trap laid by Morgana.  He understands many of the things Morgana does, too, and he gives her all kinds of chances - he knows why she tries to kill Uther in 1.11, and he holds no grudge.  He knows she tried to steal the Crystal of Neahtid in 2.10, and again he holds no grudge - he doesn't even suspect her, at the beginning of the next episode, when the entire city falls asleep.  He forgives her in 3.01 after she (as far as he knows) tried to kill the entire city at the end of the previous season, and even after she reveals herself to be a traitor in 3.02, he tells her he doesn't believe she deserves to be executed for who she is.  He still feels for her.  He still understands.  He wants to connect with her.

And, admittedly, neither Morgana nor Merlin are obligated to extend this kind of understanding to the people who've harmed them.  The impact of the harmful actions is the same, and Morgana doesn't have to give her friends a chance if she doesn’t want to.  She doesn't have to consider their intentions.

But she could have.  And I think that in some of these situations, there are compelling reasons why she should have.  

It's important to me to recognize that Morgana's choice not to ever consider her friends' intentions, particularly when it comes to people like Gwen, who didn't even understand what was going on and who were given no chance to prove their willingness to help Morgana before Morgana attacked first - completely obstructs the possibility of making amends, working things out together, making a connection, or seeking a more positive outcome.  Morgana’s actions come out of nowhere, for most of the people who know her.  She starts trying to kill them before they ever even know anything is wrong.  She doesn’t give them a chance to help her.

And she doesn’t have to, certainly.  But I wonder sometimes what things would have looked like if she had.

[agnesmontague]

do u consider yourself an anti anti

this feels exceptionally bait-y, but i will try to answer it in as much good faith as possible

short answer: more or less, but not in as many words, because let’s be real here, “anti-anti” just sounds...really stupid to me as a word? like a playground insult or something?? it’s also not NEARLY nuanced as a term to encompass however a given person feels on the subject. i’ve also seen the term “pro-shipper” used a lot, which i also don’t tend to apply to myself all that much, because i don’t think this is a discourse that should be strictly limited to “shipping” or just fandom spaces.

long answer: if i were to unpack this a bit, while i’m not of the opinion that fiction has no effect on reality whatsoever, it does mean that i don’t think there is a strict 1-to-1 correlation btwn what one creates or consumes in one’s media and what one believes and/or does in the waking world, so to speak. enjoying the nbc show hannibal doesn’t make you pro-cannibalism, even if hannibal lecter is your favourite character. nor do i believe the writers of the show are pro-cannibalism simply by virtue of having depicted it in a charismatic light in their work. i also think there is a crucial distinction to be made in terms of contextualization--to take dubcon for example, i think there is a very important difference btwn, say, a fic that is tagged and warned for in order to let potential readers know that it contains material that could be triggering, and a fic whose writer treats the whole concept like a joke or “not a big deal.” 

i think when the consumption of fiction starts to revolve around the axis of which specific tropes or concepts are “good” or “bad”, the discourse gets supremely restrictive and the ideology puritanical; suddenly it’s a matter of who can avoid ticking the most number of boxes on someone’s “problematic” list, instead of looking at the work holistically or within an appropriate context. art can be a lot of things, and creating it is definitely an act of social communion but at the same time it can serve any purpose from personal expression, to working out one’s trauma, to simply having fun. this is doubly true in fandom spaces where the works of art in question aren’t usually meant to be consumed by an audience beyond the in-group of people who are familiar with the source material, and therefore by definition more of a secluded (if not private) space. this is triply true for adults-only spaces where adults can explore darker themes without worrying about negatively impacting minors (in theory, anyway). restricting what is “appropriate” in these spaces simply based on questions like “does this contain a certain ship” or “does this involve x character” without stopping to consider the myriad elements of context and nuance that surround the work, in my experience, leads to a really toxic and media illiterate viewpoint. 

i also dislike the term “anti-anti” because it implies that i don’t understand the whole “anti” stance, because that’s not really true either; i used to consider myself an “anti” up until i hit my 20s, and even though i stopped because i felt like it was the most futile and useless form of online “”activism”” i could possibly practice, i still do remember why my own feelings of dislike and disgust towards certain trends in media and real life caused me to feel like i had to protect myself somehow by loudly denouncing such trends in the hopes of shaming people into agreeing with me (for the record, though, i can say with utter confidence that i never harassed or sent derogatory messages to anyone). i also think that the surge of “anti” thoughts and behavior in younger people online owes a lot to the failure of previous generations to foster a safer space for them in general. so while i disagree heavily with “antis” in a lot of respects, i’m also not exactly willing to chalk it all up to some conservative idiocy. there’s been a lot of debate on whether “anti mentality” has any correlation to ideologies like terfism or cultishness, and while i definitely see many overlaps there (and am suitably alarmed by them), i’m also uncomfortable with painting it all in such broad and uncharitable strokes.

this doesn’t cover everything i have to say on the subject, but i hope that answers your question.

[cynicalrainbows]

What are your opinions on Mary? I like her so much, but I see people saying that liking her is like liking Ted Bundy. What are your thoughts on that?

TLDR: Like whoever and whatever you like my dear. Anyone who tries to make you feel guilty for liking or wanting to write about a character sucks, and chances are they’re also being a massive hypocrite because I BET you that THEY like a character who could have similar claims made about them too.

Big long essay under the cut.

So when speaking of Mary from a fandom perspective, I think it is important to remember that there are different versions, if you will. There’s Mary Tudor, historical character. And then there’s ‘Mary Tudor as part of the ensemble of Six’ (because even if she doesn’t appear in the musical, existing in the fandom means she becomes a character rather than a real life historical figure, if that makes sense.)

And also, when using the word ‘like’, I think it’s important to remember that saying ‘I enjoy writing this character’ or ‘I enjoy coming up with scenarios for this character’ or ‘i think this character is interesting’ does not mean ‘if this character were a real person, I would support and endorse their actions unconditionally’.

AND finally to remember that engaging in fandom for the purposes of entertainment is not and should not be a sort of moral test in which we all compete to find The One True Character who is Best and Nice and Unproblematic (and to be clear- that also means it’s fine for the individual to decide they dislike a character for moral reasons. What’s not ok is forcing this belief on others. Like how I fully understand if someone cannot read American Psycho or Lolita or whatever BUT I also reserve the right to enjoy the books myself.)

In light of this: if some people don’t want to write or read fics with character Mary in, that’s fine! And valid! And that’s just as valid if it’s because they can’t get past the burning thing as it is if it’s because they find the idea of The Kids restrictive and dull (and this is how I nearly always view The Kids.)

HOWEVER if we start getting overly moralistic on this.....well, this things start to get complicated. 

Can the irl Mary Tudor be considered a murderer? Yes, you could certainly make the argument for that. (But is Mary the only one who could be called a murderer? Absolutely not.)

Is it ok to not want to write Mary because of that? Of course! You needn’t write anything you don’t want to.

Is it ok to imply that other people are morally dubious for wanting to write Mary or for being interested and sympathetic in the irl or fictional character of Mary? Absolutely not! 

Not only is it not ok, but I find it VERY hypocritical and odd too.

I mean, let’s all face up to the elephant in the room: Six is a weird af concept and writing fanfic for it is even weirder! Like, I’m writing about historical characters living in a houseshare? I’m writing about them just hanging out and making pancakes and having fights over the tv and crying because they lost their bus pass or whatever!

And that is fine and great and SO MUCH FUN!

But.

It also means we need to accept the divide between real historical characters and the versions we write for fic (and that Marlow and Moss wrote in canon).

I like writing about Cathy being scatterbrained and easily overwhelmed and good hearted. I am aware that the real Kateryn Parr likely had nothing in common with my version of Cathy Parr. And that’s good and right.

Just because you want to write a character as good and fun and nice, it doesn’t mean that their real life counterpart was ANYTHING like that. Nor does it mean that a character you don’t like was definitely evil incarnate irl.

Honestly? I don’t think anyone in Six would stand up to tumblrs moral standard.

Not only were these real people but they were real people with enormous, inordinate amounts of power and influence, all of whom did many morally questionable things in their lives.

Which is expected. 

Some of the people did VERY definitely-wrong things: some because of the time they lived in, and some just....out of choice. And sometimes because of a mix of both.

Depending on a number of factors, sometimes you’ll be able to get over those things enough to enjoy writing the fictional character and sometimes you won’t.

Basically, there’s no point in people trying to act as if there are these big hard and fast clear moral rules for writing characters: it’s just personal preference.

Like, personally I like writing Cathy Parr best. But that doesn’t mean I think that Real Life Queen Katryn Parr was without blame in the relationship with Thomas Seymour and Elizabeth.

I can write Cathy Parr and put the real life stuff to one side. That doesn’t make me a bad person. And I apply this to everyone.

If someone says they cannot write about Mary because they feel personally that it’s the equivalent of writing about Bundy, then fine!

If someone says that writing about Mary is like writing about Bundy and ergo anyone who does it is the equivalent of glorifying Bundy, then I REALLY want to know how they can possibly be ok with writing ANY queen! 

Because after all, Cathy joined in the grooming of her stepdaughter! And endorsed some absolute awfulness in Ireland. Anne had Mary treated terribly! Jane went to see Anne die! 

I’d ask how they’re ok with writing Edward and Elizabeth, considering the stuff that THEY did. I’d ask how they’re ok with Catalina, considering the Inquisition was A Thing. I’d ask how are they ok with the concept of Six AT ALL- since didn’t everyone in it do questionable things? 

Like, to be clear: Person A does not want to write Mary bc to them, they feel it’s like writing Bundy is fine. And saying so, when questioned, is fine. (Especially if they’re replying to someone being bitchy about them writing Mary ‘badly’: I have as little time for people who bully people for writing specific characters as I do for people who get off on harassing others for writing their favourite character ‘unfairly’.)

But I do have a problem if they are telling people who enjoy writing Mary that this makes them as bad person.

I have a problem with ANYONE trying to shame anyone for what they write: characters, plots, ships, whatever.

Because really, tumblr is SUCH an excellent place for making these big sweeping statements- X is bad! Y makes you bad! Enjoying Z makes you terrible!- that really don’t make a lot of logical sense when examined. And unfortunately, the sorts of people who make these claims often don’t really GET that you can like a thing without endorsing it OR that you can dislike a thing without having to condemn it.

And that’s a real shame.

So in answer: write what you like. Tag it appropriately, clearly and consistently. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about it.

Enjoy it.

[untilspringdays]

Lovely Sins || Chapter 3

Summary: You were a researcher investing six strange beings that you didn’t quite understand. They had strange powers that you and your partner Mark Lee were tasked with testing the extent off. It was your typical day really but as time progressed between you and the seven of these men, you found yourself growing attached. Will the seven of these men restore some of your humanity? And could you help them escape?

Pairings: Reader x Super M (OT7)

Genre: Sci-fi AU || Angst, Fluff, Smut (Eventually)

Warnings: Violence, Experimentation, Cussing, Torture, Dark Themes. (Will have some dark things going on please read at your own risk!)

A/N: I still very much love this story. I love writing it. It just kinda flows out of me when I get started writing it. 

Word Count: 4.2 k

Previous || Master List || Next

Tag-list: @reiki-chan (Ask me or message me to be added!)

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding on to. Ten had stepped inside the containment and so far nothing bad was happening to Subject number 10. The three regarded each other, studied each other. You didn’t know what would happen next and you were afraid. 

Mark had his hand on your shoulder giving you a reassuring squeeze, trying to calm your anxieties. He was the first to break the silence that had built in the observation room. “88 and 4 seem tense, while Ten…” A small chuckle came from his lips as your partner observed the relaxed expression on Ten’s face. 

“I’m glad the two of you can be relaxed in this kind of situation.” Your gaze remained on three subjects in the room before turning down to tap out some notes on your tablet. 

“It will work out fine, I’m sure of it. Have faith in Ten and I.” Mark stated looking at you for a moment, before turning back to observe. 

The words had you turning your attention to Mark, gaze falling on his profile. His dark eyes watched the room below the two of you but you were certain he saw you staring. A smirk that appeared on his features only confirmed what you knew to be true. 

With a scoff and the roll of your eyes, your turned your attention back to the containment, ignoring the chuckle that came from your partner. The small playful moment ending right then as the two of you got back to actually doing your job. 

“He has gotten closer.” Mark hummed out, sounding somewhat pleased with this development. 

“88 and 4 are still cautious of him though.” You said quietly. “I’m betting they are both thinking he is just another researcher, which makes me wonder if Ten will do something to show he is one of them.” 

You knew that Ten wore subject clothes but in a place like this where anyone could easily get a hold of subject clothes, it was hard to trust as proof, at least for other subjects. There were very limited ways that Ten could get them to trust him. 

“The cameras are recording correct?” You asked. You knew the answer but you still wanted to ask and make sure. 

“When are the cameras not recording?” Mark asked, his voice teasing. 

You shoved him lightly with your currently free arm. “Shut up.” You said. “I just wanted to double check. You know how I am.” There was a small pout on your face from his teasing, but you knew he meant no harm. 

He let out a fake “Ow..” but you didn’t have to look to know there was a grin on his face. You could tell just from knowing him for a long time. 

Silence fell between the two of you once again, both of you watching and waiting on something, anything to happen between the three of the people in the room. Aside from his initial greeting, Ten hadn’t said anything, no words were spoken by the other two test subjects in the room. 

You wanted to push Ten, give him some instruction but you couldn’t. If you even spoke this whole test could be ruined, Ten could be in even more danger than he currently was. There was tension throughout your body. No matter how much you wanted to relax, you couldn’t. You had to trust subject 10 to be able to handle this situation. 

Your eyes were locked on the trio in the room as soon as Ten finally began trying to interact with the two companions. Your hand gripped tightly on your tablet as you waited for what would happen next. You didn’t even need to look at Mark to know he was engrossed in the situation just as much as you were. 

And just like that Ten had surprised his two researchers with his next move. In a mere second the space that had remained between the three subjects was closed to a respectable distance. That small moment Ten being his usual self but showing a new ability that neither Mark nor You had seen him show before, and never would see again. 

“You saw that right?” Mark asked, neither of you paying attention to the small talk that the three subjects were now making in light of Ten showing he was a test subject as well. 

“Uh-huh” You were dumbfounded to say the least. Your brain trying to process what exactly you had just witnessed. No matter how many times you had seen their strange abilities, it always surprised you whenever you saw them again. 

As soon as you collected yourself, you opened up Subject 10’s file, going to make the appropriate edit. “Just like 88..” You commented as you added teleporting to the long list of abilities Ten has displayed, but all of them, in the whole history of him being at this facility, he had only displayed them once. 

Mark’s eyes were still locked on the subjects in the containment, but you could tell his mind was thinking through all of the information on Ten. “How many abilities has Ten shown us so far?” He asked you knowing that you were looking at the information.

A small hum escaped you as you looked at the list for a small moment. “Of our known abilities? At least 40..” You commented, shuddering a bit as you remembered some of his more violent displays, even if he never hurt you or Mark. 

“None of them repeats?” He asked grimly already knowing the answer. 

“None of them repeats.” You remarked plainly, not likely the fact at all, but at least he showed a perfect mastery over his numerous abilities unlike 211. You didn’t understand Subject 10, he was a mystery for as long as he has been in the center. 

The three test subjects were just talking now. As much as you wanted to pay attention to every word they spoke, you couldn’t. Everything they were discussing was stuff you already knew since it was about their time at the center. Mark seems to pay attention more than you, but that was only to certain things that he didn’t bother to research when he joined your team. Things that had occured before he joined the center. 

As time passed you found yourself settled back into the chair. All of them seemed to get along, things were going well. There weren’t any hostile feelings left in the air between them. As you watched the three it seemed more and more like they were just old friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time. 

Mark has stepped out of the room for a moment, when one conversation caught your attention. 4’s familiar voice brought you out of your trance. 

“What did you do before you got to the center?” His question was directed at Ten, seeing how he already knew 88. 

“I don’t remember.” Ten replied, the conversation becoming more serious than it was precious moments before. The bright and wide grins seemed to vanish as they all intently listened to what eachother had to say. 

“I honestly don’t remember anything before the center. I barely remember an incident… then vaguely being told about the center and how I was being taken here, and then everything after that is just the center. Nothing before.” Ten said, his face looking to the ceiling of the containment as he pondered over his past. 

Well that was more than he ever told you. Maybe it was because of the fact he might have deemed it unimportant. Even if it was very little information it was still new. A new little crack in the mystery that was Ten. Maybe you would have to pry your higher ups for more information on him, see if they could do some digging for you if you could convince them that it was worthwhile. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me how the two of you ended up here?” Ten asked, his tone cautious. 

88 was the first to speak up. “I’m one of the newer ones here.. I haven’t been here as long as Baekhyun, or even you. I ended up here shortly after I discovered my jumping ability. One wrong call from one accidental sighting and I was brought here..” 

88’s dark gaze drifted over to the older male sitting beside him. “I never expected to find someone I knew here..” Kai stated. “I don’t think I was supposed to know until my first escape. As soon as I stepped out of that room, that containment. I could feel something familiar but I didn’t know how to explain it. I don’t think I can still.”

So 88 could feel something every time he left his containment. There was something that was drawing him to Subject 4. What though? Just another question to every vague answer. 

Baekhyun nodded when Kai had mentioned a connection. “Like him I could feel it too, but it wasn’t until he stepped into my containment that I did.” 

You never expected Baekhyun’s gaze to land right on you even though he couldn’t see through the glass panel you were standing behind. Had he known you were there the whole time? 

His gaze fell back to the others as he spoke up again, “I can only assume one of them opened the door when Kai was out of his room.” Baekhyun shrugged sitting back. “I know they are the only ones that can open them, no matter how hard I try.”

Ten let out a small hum, clearly knowing the truth behind everything that had happened. “Probably so.” So he was choosing to hide the fact that he had somewhat of a close bond with the two of you? Or was he waiting for a better chance to reveal the truth. “Didn’t you say you got it open one time? Or was that because of your jumping ability?” Ten asked turning the subject away from the researchers. 

“I was able to jump through all of the times I was able to get out.. The first time I didn’t think they had anything in place but afterwards. I wouldn’t be surprised if every time I got out was intentional..” You could tell from the look on his face he was coming to realize that it was the truth. 

Ten spoke up next. “Well at least you have reunited with someone you know, and clearly they have at least some kindness to them to allow the two of you to stay together.” You couldn’t tell if that statement was a compliment or a suggestion to let them stay together permanently. 

Baekhyun nodded. “Yeah, that is one positive at least.”

“The researchers seem nice. To me, it seems like they are just doing their job. I don’t think they are the ones that want to keep us here.” Ten spoke up in your favor of being another positive even if he was hiding his connection with the two of you. 

No. You didn’t want to keep them here. Yes you wanted to find out exactly what was going on with their abilities, and their differences from regular people, but keeping them trapped? No. You were sure there better ways of keeping their abilities in check, and allowing them to keep their lives instead of confining them to this space, but alas you were just doing your job. Doing what you were told to do, keeping the life you had left. 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to talk with either of them. At first they seemed nice but then everything became repetitive, there wasn’t a point in talking.” Baekhyun commented, causing you to hesitate in your notes for a small moment. He continued. “The girl.. She has been here longer. She was here when I first got here. The guy.. He didn’t show up for a couple years.” 

88 Seemed to agree with what the older had said. “What they approach you with is very repetitive. I have realized that, but I haven’t been here long enough to give a good judgement either.”

“I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t remember my past or if it’s because I have had more interaction time with our two researchers, but.. I like them.” Ten stated. There was honesty in Ten’s tone. Something he never really admitted so directly. It was always in a teasing or joking form, but not this time. “I like them a lot.” 

The statement had made you paused once again. You understood his situation on the subject. If his affection, if his friendliness towards the two of you was due to his isolation or if it was actually something real. 

The door opening brought you back from your musing, Mark poking his head in. “Higher ups said to wrap it up. They think they have spent too much time together.”

You turned back to him. “But-” You started, only to be cute off. 

“No buts, unfortunately. They said you were already pushing it with the whole keeping 4 and 88 in the same place. They can’t allow too many changes in such a short amount of time.” Mark stated knowing how you worked and how the Higher ups worked. 

You let out a low drawn out sigh. “Fine. You can grab him from the containment then, since you agreed to this whole thing in the first place.” You grabbed your things before heading down the stairs, pausing to watch Mark open the containment to grab Ten. You lead the two men out the room. Many new questions from this interaction weighing on your mind. 

As Mark stepped into your office first, you turned to Ten. “Are you going to join us?” Basically, it was an open invitation to come inside your office something you didn’t extend to him often. 

Ten shook his head. “No. Everything you guys need is on the recordings, I just want to sleep if I’m honest. The excitement wore me out.” 

You nodded at his comment, a little confused, but not questioning it. “Alright, see you in a few hours then.”

✦

After you and Mark reviewed every little detail in the footage, every little word, every shift in posture, any hint as to something new, you decided you needed a break from watching the video feed and check in on some of the other subjects. As you went to step out of the office Mark called to you. 

“Take a break and get some sleep after you do your rounds. You need some sleep, I will watch them and do some research for a bit okay?” You tried to argue with him but of course you didn’t get anywhere. He was as hard headed as you were sometimes. 

Ten was asleep like he had said. 2 was inside his room not paying any attention to you at all as he was writing in a notebook. 109 didn’t acknowledge you either, which wasn’t shocking. 4 and 88 were the same as ever. 211.. 211 had more energy than you could deal with. 

While you appreciated his bright attitude, your work never allowed you to match his energy. You were always worn and tired. Maybe one day, one day there would be a spot where his energy could be used up like you knew he wanted. 

You stood in his room, a small grin on your face as he flashed you a big bright one when you stepped inside. 

“Are things going okay with you 211? Food okay? Are you entertained enough?” You asked, getting the basics out of the way. 

“I told you to call me Lucas.” He said in his usual sweet way, his deep voice always making you relax despite the stress on your shoulders. 

“But yes. The food is good, and I’m doing pretty good too. Though, I am going to need a new cup for my pencils and pens.” He said with a sheepish chuckle, to which you let out a small giggle of your own. 

“Again 211?” Your tone was teasing, clear to show that you were joking. You understood his situation and how it was for him, and his ability. 

“I will put in the request for you, and maybe have some back-ups lined up too. With more practice I’m sure one day you will be able to get free roam privileges. I hate having to keep you here.” You said to him. His personality was too bright, he was too friendly to be stuck in the room. 

“Nah don’t worry about it too much. I prefer being in here so that way I don’t mess up anything important for you guys. One day though. One day I will be able to get out of here.” His bright smile was back in no time.

“Alright then, I will drop it for now.” You said keeping your tone friendly. “While I hate to cut this short, I’m going to have to jump to the small test I need from you now. I need to get some rest, I have had a long few days.” You didn’t bother to hide how you felt from 211. He always understood no matter the situation, remaining positive as can be, and you apprenticated it. You carefully placed the small egg shaped object on the table that was kept in the center of the room. 

“It’s not a problem.” Lucas stated, clearly not minding that you needed to get some sleep. “Make sure you take care of yourself too though since you always make sure I do.” He said looking at you, the smile on his face restoring some of your brightness. 

He had approached the table, his hand reaching out for the object you had placed at its center. Only to pause a small distance away to look at you. A single nod from you had him closing the distance, a single relaxed finger touching the object. 

Like all of the other times you have seen it, cracks split their way from where he touched the egg shape, completely engulfing it in no time before it completely fell into dust. No matter the object material, no matter the object’s size. It was always the same, turning to a fine dust that left no resemblance of the object it was before. 

You noted some things down on your tablet for a moment as Lucas just stood there and watched you, waiting for you to be done. When you were you smiled up at him, a real smile instead of the fake ones you gave him sometimes. 

“Thank you for working with me. It makes me really happy that you are.” You said. 

That signature grin was back on his face in no time at all. “I’m glad I can make your day a little easier Y/N. Anything it takes to get used to whatever this is.”

“Alright, thank you again. I will be going now. My bed is calling my name.” You said to him, your hand with the tablet falling to your side, not taking long to reach the door. 

He called out to you before you completely exited. Your attention falling back on the tall man once again. “Sleep well Y/N.”

Your real smile was on your face in no time again, a silent thanks. As you stepped out of his containment, you made a small futile wish. You wanted all of your subjects happy, like him, again. 

✦

It should have caught you off guard when Ten didn’t follow the two of you back to your office for discussions. Just passing it off as him wanting to go to his room to get some sleep, that his excitement for interacting with the other subjects kept him up and wore him out. You should have pressed more now that you were thinking about it, but you didn’t.

And now? Looking at the situation you were facing? You should have known something was up. Something had changed, and there was something you missed. That interaction.. The way he reacted. You should have known, you really should have known. 

You were quickly moving down the hallway that was your sector, your gaze looking to Mark as he stepped out of 211’s containment but as soon as he spotted you he called your name trying to get you to stop. When you didn’t, he stepped into your path, his arms coming out and capturing you preventing you from moving forward. You had to see 109, you had to. You struggled against his hold. Not bothering to notice the guards stationed outside the two doors at the end of the hall.

“Y/N. Going to see him right now would just make things worse..” He grunted out as he fought your movements for a moment before finally you gave up knowing he could easily over power you if he wanted. 

“But.. I have to make sure he is okay..” You said, your tone showing just how much this event was affecting you. “We.. It felt like I was finally making progress with him..” Your body slouched, the adrenaline in your body a moment before when you first found out 109 was hurt quickly fading allowing exhaustion to take its place. Mark was supporting your weight at this point with his hold. 

“I know..” Mark said, pulling you closer against him, knowing the amount of mental stress you had been under lately wasn’t helping with your current situation. 

Mark turned you around and pulled you into his side, walking you in the opposite direction you were heading. Heading back to the offices. He pulled you inside his office which sat opposite to your own. He helped you settle into the chair across from his desk before taking a seat in his chair. His office was always a little neater than yours, never as many papers scattered around. 

Your arm was settled on the arm rest, hand cradling your head as your gaze remained to the ground. 

“Who did it?” You asked, tone sounding defeated. After you got the message you didn’t pay attention to the details, just the fact that 109 was hurt.. All of your progress was gone.. 

“Y/N…” Mark started his tone clearly showing you wouldn’t want to hear it. 

“Who. Did. It?” You stated emphasizing you wanted to know. You had to know. 

There was a heavy pause before he spoke again. “Subject 10.” 

Everything around you froze. Your blood ran cold. You.. What.. Ten..? You.. You couldn’t believe it. Subject 10 never showed a history of violence… He just.. What….?

“Are… Are you sure? How.. He didn’t seem to be the type..” You said, your voice becoming meeker. As much as he bugged you, you never imagined him doing something like this. 

Mark let out a sigh, understanding your thought process. He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s him.. In the footage you can see him get into 109’s containment before the video feed cuts off. We…” He paused assessing his word choice for a moment before he spoke again. “We assume that he used two different abilities he hasn’t displayed before to get inside, and then one again when he shut off the camera feed. By the time we got to the room, the damage was already done.”

You rubbed your hand over your face as you processed the information. “So…”

“He didn’t fight us taking him back to his containment. His free roam privileges have been revoked, and he has no right to get them back any time soon. Also we aren’t allowed to step foot into Subject 10’s and 109’s room for the next few days. Orders from higher ups.” Mark informed you. 

“Is Subject 10 okay?” You asked, trying to fully grasp this situation. So much was being thrown at you. 

“He is fine.. He refuses to speak up about what exactly he has done to 109 and why he did it. Not even I could drag it out of him.” Mark sounded defeated too.

As much as you wanted to go down there and speak to him yourself you know you couldn’t. Your bosses would be on your case in no time.. They didn’t tolerate any event like this, and there were certain things that had to be done when it did occur. “So, We are just supposed to ignore two of our subjects until further notice?” You asked, clearly not wanting to do as you were directed. All Mark offered in reply was a nod. A sullen silence falling over both of you. 

A soft knock at Mark’s door pulled the both of you out of your depressive mood. It seemed one shock wasn’t enough for either of you today. As soon as you opened the door, you were both met with Subject 2. 

The shock of the moment causes you to slip up. 

“Taemin?” You asked. The quick small smile on his face at his real name didn’t go unnoticed.

“I heard about the incident, and I might be able to help on the matter.” The older man said.

Mark who was more level headed than you at the current moment answered. “What is it Subject 2?” 

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 88

Warnings: none

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The final attempt at sleep had been successful. Although the road ahead of him is destined to be long and extremely difficult -and no doubt agonizing- his brief moment of wakefulness had done wonders to life Esme’s spirits. That chance to speak to him; to see him open his eyes and know -with one hundred percent certainty- that he was able to acknowledge her. It wasn’t a drug induced incoherent rambling or hallucination. He actually saw her and was able to engage; giving appropriate responses and showing concern for her and the baby. Able to express how he was feeling and that telling her he loved her. No one could ever possibly understand how just incredible that small moment was, or what an enormous impact it had on her state of mind. She knows it won’t be easy. There will be weeks, even months, of healing; tremendous pain and more hard times than easy ones. A full recovery could take as long as a couple of years; countless rounds of physical rehab will be needed and most likely therapy for mental health and addiction issues.  But he’s already shown just how tenacious and strong he actually is; his will to live a lot more powerful than the agony he’s experiencing. With so much to live for, his desire to be with his family again is his main driving force, and she knows he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to get back on his feet again.

Nathan may have been able to break his body, but he hadn’t made a dent in his spirit.

The burden she’s been carrying -the fear, worry, and uncertainty- had been lessened, and she’d been able to drift off; both body and mind allowing her to rest. So soundly in fact, that she’d only briefly stirred in the wee hours of the morning when Julie had come in while on her rounds. Merely lifting her head from the pillow; quietly observing as the nurse switched empty IV and medicine bags with full ones. Then she’d simply rolled over, pulled the blankets over her head, and easily drifted off.

Her sleep once again had been filled with dreams of the past. Millie’s first steps and how ecstatic and proud Tyler had been; never getting to experience many of Austin’s milestones because of deployments. How tearful he’d been the morning he’d walked into her room and Millie -who’d  been standing up in her crib, excitedly bouncing up and down at the mere sight of him- had called him ‘daddy’ for the very first time.  And the way he’d broken down in the delivery room when the twins had been born -even harder than he had when his daughter came into the world- and the nurse had given him TJ and said “Here’s your son”.   He’d lost his first, and getting that moment again -a baby boy presented to him- had profoundly affected him  A man that rightfully shouldn’t even have been alive. Who’d been given a second chance and at times didn’t feel as if he deserved it. There are still times he thinks that way. When the demons of the past resurface and play havoc on his brain; convincing him that the mistakes of a younger man and the amount of blood on his hands has turned him into a monster. It’s the nightmare of living with mental health issues and PTSD; those dark moments where he questions his mere existence and openly states that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now; a wife and children that love and accept him unconditionally.  

It’s hard for people to understand. How a man that is so big and so strong -and often intimidating- can have those kinds of thoughts and vulnerable moments. But they don’t know everything that he’s battled. His childhood is one of his best kept secrets; only her and Koen know the full extent of his father’s behaviour, the abuse inflicted, and the long term damage it has caused. It’s not something he readily talks about; even with her.  That toxic masculinity still gets the better of him at times. His father’s attempts at beating into him that a man -a REAL MAN- doesn’t show emotion; it means that he’s weak and there’s nothing more pathetic than being weak. And she’s tried to break him of it; years spent assuring him that he isn’t a weak man.  A weak man would have given up in that storage facility. In the same way he would have given up on the Sultana Kamal Bridge seven years ago.  And he certainly never would have survived the nightmare of his upbringing. Nor would he be so determined to be a better man; the kind of husband and father that a wife and kids can brag about and proud of. Who never have to live in fear of him ; cowering every time he raises his voice or even comes too close to them. Who know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- how much he loves him.

Tyler Rake is anything BUT weak. And he’d shown that the night before.  Somehow finding a way to battle his way through this thick haze of multiple medications; gathering the strength to not only open his eyes, but actually think coherently and communicate. He was right. He DOES do whatever he wants.

When she finally wakes, it’s to the patter of rain against the window and the sounds of hospital life trickling through the half open door. Doctors being paged, the shrill ring of patients’ using their call buttons to summon for help, the loud rattle of gurneys being pushed through the halls. It’s a harsh reminder of her current situation; stuck in the ICU of a private hospital in Dhaka, thousands of miles away from her children and the comforts and security of her own home.  She misses it. The sound and the smell of the ocean. The morning breeze and sunshine as she stands out on the back deck enjoying that first cup of tea, watching her husband as he helps Millie and the twins search -and dig, at times- for shells, rocks, and beach glass. Often wondering who is enjoying the quality time more; father or children. The  dinners cooked on an open fire down by the water; the smiles brought to their faces -and that unconditional love and immense pride in his eyes- as they watch their children play and listen to those little voices and musical giggles floating on the air. And those strong, protective arms wrapped around her from behind as she sits between his legs. Her head resting against his chest as they quietly marvel at the sky; painted vivid shades of orange and pink as the sun sets.  

It’s a life she had never even dared to dream about; a beautiful home in an even more even more beautiful place,  amazing children and a husband that is faithful and loyal and only has eyes for her.  All those things that she’d come to believe SHE didn’t deserve and had long ago given up on finding. How poetic in a way; two broken people coming together to make a slightly dented whole.

Sighing heavily, she rolls from side to back; eyes closed as she stretches and yawns The morning sickness has returned. With a vengeance. More than likely made worse by lack of food and the stress and worry that have accompanied the last twenty four hours. When she manages to quell the threatening nausea and brief spell of dizziness, she opens her eyes and sits up, finding a small paper bag sitting on the extra pillow beside her; name written on the front of it in black marker. And the contents bring the first genuine smile since yesterday morning; aside from Tyler’s brief period of consciousness. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an enormous blueberry muffin. Accompanied by a handwritten note from Julie; asking Esme to promise she’ll look after herself AND the baby, assurance that she’ll be back on in the evening, and her home phone number. The latter being offered as not only a ‘helpline’ if she feels overwhelmed and scared and needs someone to vent and cry to, but so she can give the nurse a list of some of her favorite foods. Julie vowing to bring a selection when she clocks in for her shift. It’s refreshing; having someone WANT to take care of her in that motherly fashion. Especially when her own has been anything but.

She shoves her feet into her sandals and climbs off the bed; returning  it to its couch form. “Hey baby,” she greets as she stands at the side of Tyler’s bed; combing her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips to his temple. “Good morning.  I hope you slept god. You didn’t snore, I know that much. That’s a first, huh? Me not complaining about your snoring? Must have been a really good sleep for you to be THAT quiet. You deserve it; that kind of sleep. Your face looks a little better, I think. Not as swollen. Pretty bruised though. And you’re going to have a couple wicked scars at the end of this.”

Her fingers gently touch the stitches below and above his eye.

“You’d probably joke about how it balances your face out; the right catching up with the left in the scar department.  I think they’re going to make you even sexier. Which should be illegal, if you ask me. One man being that sexy?  No wonder you’re a DILF. The thirsty ladies may drive me crazy, but I can’t really blame them. Right now I’m kind of mad at you though. I am so nauseous. And I swear, the bump is even bigger this morning...look…”   she pushes her fingers through his, then draws their joined hands through the safety railing and places them on her stomach.  “...bigger, right? You can’t tell me this is normal. None of the other ones were this size so soon. Not even Declan, and he was over ten pounds when he was born. And you better not be thinking multiples; one is all we can handle right about now.  Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, alright? Six is more than enough. And speaking of babies, I’m going to ask Ovi to bring Addie here. She’s tiny still, Tyler. She shouldn’t be away from us this long. Especially me. She needs to be with her momma. And I think it would do you some good, too; having at least one of them here. So that’s my decision and you’re just  going to have to live with it.”

She moves his hand back inside the confines of the bed, gently setting it on the mattress

“I love you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You keep sleeping, okay? And I hope if you’re dreaming, it’s good things for a change.”

****

She gives a small start when she exits the bathroom and finds Koen sitting in the bedside chair. Sipping from a take out cup of coffee and freshly shaven;  his face bearing its own fair share of bruises and a handful of  butterfly bandages keeping small, superficial wounds closed.

“Morning, sunshine!” He cheerfully greets, and nods to the cup of tea and a bag of fast food breakfast sitting on the window ledge. “I finally get to see you in your sexy jammies.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “You DO have issues if you find sweatpants and an oversized shirt sexy,” she says as she journeys over to the window “I was going to give you shit for scaring the crap out of me, but seeing as you come bearing gifts, I’ll let it slide.”  She peers into the bag, a grin tugging at her lips. “Either it was just a lucky guess, or you somehow know that when I’m pregnant, I always crave breakfast burritos.”

“There’s a lot I know about you. Someone talks about you. All the time.  Mostly about shit I don’t need to know.”

“Well I’m glad you listened. Because this is a very nice surprise. Thank you,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And what’s up with this?” She lightly taps a hand against the side of his face. “All cleaned up. Smooth like a baby’s bum.”

“I thought there might be some hot nurses walking around. Want to put my best foot forward. Maybe you can hook me up; put in a good word for me.”

“Why would you want to hook with someone here? You’ll be going home soon.”

“Exactly.”

“Ewww…” she grimaces. “...I don’t need to know that you’re a ‘pump and dump’.”

“Considering the things I’ve had to hear from you and him?”  Koen nods in Tyler’s direction. “What I said is tame. I’ve actually had to listen to you two….”

“I thought you were moving on from random hookups?”  Esme remarks, and she perches on the arm of his chair and delves into one of the burritos. “I thought you were getting too old for that shit?”

“Excuse me, who are you calling old?”

“I thought Tyler was rubbing off on you. That he was some sort of inspiration to you and Rata; convincing you two it was time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down once and for all.  Didn’t you say it gave you hope? That if...and I quote…’someone can put up with the likes of him, that’s proof there IS someone out there for everyone’.”

“I did say that.”

“So what gives? Why are you looking for a random? You deserve more than that”

“Well if he was awake and could tell me where to find another one of you, I’d be all set.”

“Sorry. I’m limited edition. And I’ve already been claimed. A couple breakfast burritos just aren’t enough to make me divorce my husband and run away with you. It definitely takes more than that.”

“I knew I should have gotten you hash browns too.”

“That would have done it! Boy, did you ever blow that.  I would have for sure ran away with you. Right this very second.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy our little banter, I don’t think I could handle you.”

“Oh, you definitely couldn’t.  It takes a special breed of man, believe me. And I’m serious; aren’t you tired of NOT having someone to call your own? Someone to go home to at the end of the day? Someone that is your ‘be and end all’? Your ‘ride or die’?. You deserve to be happy. I WANT you to be happy.”

“I think Tyler took all the happy and didn’t leave any for anyone else.”

“When we get home, I am finding someone for you. I don’t care what it takes; I will put you on every dating site out there.”

“What about your sister? Or step sister. Whatever she is.”

“Riley? Are you serious? She’s twenty three!”

“And?”

“And you’re thirty years older than she is!”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I know you’re eight years older than Tyler. He’s almost forty two. So I lied; you’re only twenty seven years old than she is.”

“And?”

“And that’s fucking disturbing!”

Koen shrugs. “She’s cute”

“She is. You know who else finds her cute? Women. Who she is into. And she’s not a switch hitter.”

“Doesn’t take after her older sister, huh?”

Esme frowns. “He told you THAT, too?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, sunshine. You forget; he’s a chatty drunk. Until he’s a depressed and weepy drunk, that is.”

“There are many sides to him you don’t get to see. Sober sides. And don’t worry; my sister isn’t in contention, but I WILL find someone for you.   And speaking of someone, where’s your sidekick?”

“He saw something downstairs he liked.”

“Really…” she playfully wriggles her eyebrows. “...blond or brunette?”

“Something in the gift shop. For the baby.”

“He knows?”

“EVERYONE knows.”

“Yaz has a big mouth,” Esme grumbles. “We weren’t going to tell anyone until we got home and found how far along I am. It’s what Tyler and I wanted.”

“I could gather a guess. About how far.”

“Sure you could,” she mutters. “And why do you keep looking at me like that? Why do you keep staring at my crotch?”

“I’m looking at your stomach. Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been there. I’ve just been hiding it because no one was supposed to know! Now that everyone does,  I guess I don’t have to wear baggy clothes anymore.  And it’s big, right? The bump? Bigger than any of the others?”

“How should I know? I only saw you pregnant with Millie and Addie. Never saw  you with any of the boys.”

“It’s never been like this so soon! How big IS this baby?”

“Look at the size of the kid’s father. Maybe it’s taking after him. Or maybe there’s more than one.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you think it? Don’t put that out into the universe. There’s just one. That’s it. That will make it six. A nice even number.”

“Number six must be pretty damn big then.”

“You know what? You’re off my Christmas card list. There’s no way we’re running away together. You totally shit the bed. No second chances for you.

“What if I bring you chocolate?”

“Not even then. You just had to jinx the entire thing.”

Koen gives an over dramatic pout.

“Buddy, I have seen better pouts on a much bigger man. That won’t work on me. You have nothing on Tyler’s pout.”

“He doesn’t pout.”

“He sure as shit does. I’m going to prove it one day. I’m going to catch him doing it and take a picture. Then I’ll have the evidence. Tanner has the EXACT same pout; he mostly does it when he’s sleeping.”

“Speaking of pictures, I’ve got a little something for ya.”   Koen reaches into the side pocket  of his cargo pants, pulling out his cell and then thumbing through the gallery; choosing the image he wants and offering the phone to her. “Thought it would make you smile. The world’s a shitty place when you don’t. You got yourself a pretty nice smile.”

“You’ve been taking ass kissing lessons from the best, haven’t you,” she chides, then pops the last of her breakfast into her mouth and wipes her hands on her thighs. “Oh...my...god…”  she breathes, and almost squeals in delight at the sight before her. Her husband long before the hardness and weariness brought on by his time in the military, substance abuse issues, and the dangers of the job. Before all of those demons took hold of him and he’d yet to go under a tattoo artist’s needle and no scars marred his body.  Tall and lean; broad shouldered and bearing the start of the strong and solid physique of a soldier. A brush cut and a smooth, clean face; the smile -genuine and pure- making his eyes crinkle and sparkle.

“Back when he couldn’t even grow a proper beard yet,” Koen muses. “When he was still wet behind the ears. Nothing hard ass about that bloke in the picture, is there.”

“Where did you get this?” Esme can’t explain it; the tug at her heart and the emotion choking at her and the tears that well in her eyes. There’s something so surreal about it; seeing the person you love long before a hard and unpredictable life got a hold of them.

“Found a box of old pictures when I was going through some stuff back home. Meant to show it to him, but never got around to it. You mentioned before that you’ve never seen what he looked like before...well...before all of this.”

“I’ve only ever ever seen one picture of him. When he was five; with his mom on his first day of kindergarten.  He doesn’t have any other ones; he says it’s not worth the grief he’ll get if he asks his dad if he has any.   This is…I don’t know...it’s amazing. You have no idea what this means to me; seeing this. ESPECIALLY right now. This is everything. You can’t possibly understand what this does for me.”

“I think I do. I know how you feel about him. That you’re just as much a fool in love as he is.”

“I certainly am,” she smiles. “How old is he here?”

“Nineteen. Hadn’t been out of basic long; a couple weeks maybe. When he was a cocky little shit and as green as fresh baby shit.  Cute, ain’t he?”

“Very cute. It’s weird seeing him like this. I’ve only seen MY Tyler. The one I’ve spent seven years with.  I’ve never seen THIS Tyler. I know that sounds strange.”

“I’ve heard stranger.”

“Fourteen year old me would have had a huge crush on him.”

“What was fourteen year old Esme like?”

“Awkward. Geeky. Short as fuck and chubby.  I had braces and jet black hair and I dressed like a goth. Big old Doc Marten boots that went up to my knees and everything.”

“Now THAT I’d like to see.”

“I don’t even have pictures of ME when I was that young. Tyler’s never seen old photos of me, either. I think the youngest he’s ever seen me was when I was twenty-three and just got into the Corps.  It’s what happens; when your family is toxic and you’d rather not deal with them. Can you send this to me? I’d  love to have this. And I’d love to show the kids. Especially Millie. She’d like to see her daddy when he was young and cute.”

“I’ll send it to ya. And when we get home, I’ll bring that box down and we can go through it. I’m sure there’s more you’d love to have. “

“Thank you.” She can’t hold back the tears. “You have no idea what it means to me. Even just having one picture. And I’m sorry; that I’m a whiny bitch baby. I would like to be able to blame it on the baby and my hormones, but it’s not those things. It’s just me. I’m not exactly having the best twenty four hours. I miss my kids. I hate being so far away from them. Especially Addie. But I can’t leave Tyler here. I just can’t.”

“I could stay,” Koen offers. “He wouldn’t be alone, you know that.”

“And I appreciate it, I do. But I need to be here with him. I didn’t leave him seven years ago, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him now. It’ll be better; when he gets sent to a hospital back home. Closest one is an hour from the house. It’ll be better than.”

“Well I’ll stick around as long as you need me to. Sort of made a promise that I’d take care of ya. I ain’t breaking it.”

“You’re all heart, Koen. You can pretend to be surly and hard ass all you want. I’m onto you.”

“Yeah, well I kind of like that giant, dumb ass bloke you’re married to. And you’re growing on me. So I figure I might as well step up and take his spot and treat like you like the queen you are.”

“You smooth talker,” she teases, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For the picture. You really don’t know how grateful I am for it. And thanks for being here; for both of us.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

“And thank you for being with him yesterday. I could tell he was scared and in pain, and when I think what would have happened if he’d been alone…”

“Well he wasn’t. Alone. So don’t even think about that.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there. At least if he DID die, he wouldn’t have been left there. I don’t think I’d ever get over that; if I had to leave him here. I couldn’t cope with that.”

“Let’s not think about that, yeah? He got through it. He got out of there and it’s only uphill from here.”

“He really thought he was going to die, didn’t he.”

“Honestly? We all thought he was going to die.”

She releases a long, shaky sigh and blinks back tears.  “I’m glad you were there with him. At least if the worst happened, he wouldn’t have been by himself. That is my biggest fear when it comes to the job; that if it DOES happen, he’ll be alone. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I just don’t want him to be alone...you know...IF…”

“Can’t dwell on stuff like that. You’ll drive yourself insane. Or give yourself gray hair.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already HAVE gray hair.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I appreciate you feeding my ego, but I know you can see it. And believe, every one of my gray hairs has Tyler’s name on them. Maybe TJ too. Go figure; the junior being a TRUE junior.”

“That kid is his dad through and through. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside. And that Millie…”

“Female version of him.”

“Exactly. It’s fitting if you ask me; him having a girl first and her being just like him. Gonna have his hands full with her.”

“She called last night. Wanting to talk to him. She had a bad dream and he always makes her feel better after a bad dream. Daddy’s the one that chases all the monsters away. She has so much faith in him; she knows he’d never ignore her. She’s already questioning why she can’t get a hold of him. I have to tell them; I can’t keep lying to them. And I’d rather they hear it from me than someone else. They’ll take it better if it comes from me, I think.”

Koen nods in agreement.

“But on the bright side, he had a really good night. An amazing night, actually. He woke up. Twice. Once for the nurse, once for me.”

Koen frowns.

“What?”

“He woke up?”

Esme nods. “The first time, Julie...his night nurse…said he woke up and   wanted to know who the hell she was and that he asked for me. And he even told her he was feeling sick and she gave him some meds for it.”

“Hmm…”

“Second time, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Told me to not cry. He said he wasn’t in any pain and that he was just tired. And he asked if the baby was okay and he said he loved me. It was amazing; to see him open his eyes and hear his voice.”

“Are you sure? That this happened?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought the doctor said they weren’t going to bring him out sedation for a few days? At least.”

“Julie said it isn’t uncommon; moments of wakefulness and some lucidity.  It’s just sedation, it’s not a medically induced coma  like last time.”

“He actually woke up? After everything he went through during the day? All the surgeries, the amount of meds they’re pushing into him? He opened his eyes and talked to you?”

“That’s  exactly what happened. Why are you questioning it? I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t seeing things. He woke up, looked at me, and talked to me. It happened. It was real.”

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part and…”

“It happened,” she insists. “I was there. I witnessed it.”

“And I was there in that storage and in that van. I know what kind of shape he was in; I know how close he was to lights out. Permanently. And you’re telling me, after all the injuries, all the surgeries, all the meds, he just woke up? The same day?”

“I know it sounds crazy. And I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either. But I SAW it. With my own two eyes. And you know how tough he is; how damn stubborn he is.   Does it really surprise you that of all the people who would fight THIS hard, it’s Tyler?  You know him; you know how strong he is.  You know he’d do anything for me and the kids. So is that big of a stretch that he’d wake up like that? Even if it was just to give me some hope?”

Koen sighs.

“He woke up AND he talked to me. And you know what? It was incredible and made me feel better; to know his brain is working and that he’s not giving up. I needed that; some kind of sign that he’s going to be okay And he gave it to me.”

“So why isn’t he awake now?” Koen challenges.

“Maybe he used up all his energy last night and he needs to build it back up again.”

“If he’s got it in him to wake up last night, he should be awake right now.  I’ve got some shit to say to him for scaring me as bad as he did. How come he’s not up now and talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I only know what happened last night. I only know…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler’s voice -weak, groggy, and slightly slurred by the effects of medication- pipes up. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re given me a headache.”

“See!” Esme smiles triumphantly.  “I told you.”

****

When she returns from taking a much needed shower, she finds Rata outside Tyler’s room tightly clutching a gift bag from the shop in the front lobby and pacing at a near frantic rate. It’s odd to see him this way, clearly frazzled and nervous shoulders tense;  chewing on his bottom lip and occasionally stopping and peering into the room. Normally he’s the ‘life of the party’; clueless in an adorable way, always acting far less intelligent than he actually is  just to get a laugh. Possessing an air of confidence without an ounce of cockiness; quick with sarcastic comments and witty comebacks. The ‘uncle’ that always sits at the kids’ tables during Christmas dinner and then helps build lego sets and put together toy car race tracks instead of socializing with the adults.

“Hey you,” she warmly greets, and lays a comforting hand on his back. “You okay?”

He responds by wrapping her in a huge; strong, muscular arms noticeably trembling.

“You alright?” Esme asks, as she runs her hands up and down his biceps.  “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like hospitals much. Especially a place like THIS in a hospital.  Where people are really bad.  EXTRA bad.”

“He’s a lot better than anyone thought he would be. Especially so soon And he doesn’t look THAT awful, I swear. He’s even waking up for a little bits at a time. A person who is ‘extra bad’, wouldn't be doing that, would they?”

“I just don’t know if I can go in there just yet. I mean, I was there. Yesterday. In the van. I saw what he was like; how bad he was. And I’ve never seen Tyler like that. I’ve seen him shot a couple times during our tours in the Middle East, but those were nothing. Just flesh wounds, you know? But that? Yesterday? Those weren’t just flesh wounds. And by the time he got back home seven years ago…”

“He was already somewhat on his feet and in rehab.”

Rata nods. “He was almost back to himself. It’s going to be a long while before he gets back to himself this time.”

“Yesterday was pretty awful, huh?

He releases a small, shaky sigh. “Wasn’t so much how he looked. All the blood and what not. I mean, that was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was fucking awful. Pardon my language.”

“I hear and say worse all the time. You don’t have to filter yourself around me. You’ve met my husband, right? You can’t be easily offended AND stay married to him. It just won’t work.”

“It was terrible. A fucking nightmare. To see a friend of yours THAT messed up. But the worst part? It was what he SOUNDED like. When he was talking to you. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Ever.”

“Neither have I,” she admits. “Not seven years ago, not even the two times he tried to...well, you know.  He never sounded like THAT.”

“Like he was going to die.”

“Yesterday I tried telling myself he didn’t sound that way. That he was just tired and scared and in pain and he just needed it to end. I convinced myself that he didn’t sound THAT bad. Near death. Now I realize I was just trying to make myself feel better, know what I mean?”

Rata nods.

“He was a lot closer to it than I want to admit. I thought nothing could be worse than seven years ago. I was so wrong.”

“It was what he said to you. How he said it. He was pretty sure he was never going to see you again.  That’s the only thing he was really scared of; the thought of not getting to be with you anymore.  You and the kids. You’re his entire world. I didn’t think I realized how much he loves you all until I heard the things that came out of his mouth.   Opened my eyes; made me see him a different way. A good way, just different. He’s lucky. He’s got someone that loves him as much as he loves them. That’s something I think we all want but never seem to find.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I ever did right to deserve him,” she confesses. “And he’s here because of you guys. You and Koen. You did whatever you had to go get him here alive. So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy; what you had to see and do. I was there myself. Seven years ago. I know how hard it is.”

“I feel like such a dick. For not being able to go in there. Like a total pussy.”

“You’re not any of those things. People handle stuff like this in different ways. But you should go in there. He’s really not that bad. And he was awake and talking a bit to Koen. I don’t know if he still is, but I do know he’d like to see you. I know how much he appreciates what you did to help him. I’ll go in with you if that would help.”

“It would. A bit. But first,” he offers the gift bag. “ I have something for you. And the baby.”

“The baby won’t be here for months. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Just a little something.”

She reaches into the bag, smiling at the stuffed tiger that she pulls out of its confines. “How did you remember the tradition? Every Rake baby gets a stuffed animal?”

“Just something that stuck with me, I guess.”

“It’s adorable. Thank you. Better not let Millie get a hold of it. That girl and her stuffed animals, I swear.  You didn't have to do this. You didn’t…”  her voice trails off, fingers reaching for the familiar object tied to the ribbon around the tiger’s neck. Eyes narrowed at first, then slowly widening when the realization sets in it.   “Where did you find this? Where…?”

“I didn’t find it. Tyler gave it to me. Before we got to the storage place. He asked me to give it to you if something went wrong.”

“He did?” Esme unties the thin piece of fabric, sliding the ring off of it and then cradling it in her palm.

“He wanted me to make sure you got it. If he didn’t make it. Said it was important that you got it.”

“I thought it was lost,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I thought maybe he took it off beforehand and put it in his pocket and it fell out. Or that the ER staff misplaced it. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“I should have given it to you right away. Yesterday. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying because of what you did or didn’t do. I thought it was gone. Forever. And I know it’s not much; it’s not expensive or fancy or anything like that. But it’s his. All the dents and scratches that he’s on it over the years. Sounds weird, but they all mean something.  I really thought I’d never see it again. And I didn’t think  I’d be as torn about it as I was. But it killed me inside; when I couldn’t find it. It felt like a piece of him was gone and I was just waiting for all the other pieces to disappear too. Thank you; you have no idea how much this means to me. To have this back.”

She hooks the handle of the bag around her wrist, then reaches around to the nape of her neck and removes the necklace -the custom made piece with the beach glass Millie had found- and slips the ring onto the chain.

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and steps behind her. Large fingers clumsy and struggling at first, but then manage to secure the clasp.

Esme lays a palm over the ring, firmly pressing it into her chest. Feeling the smooth, cool   metal with its many imperfections, the familiar weight of it against her. And the relief that simple piece of jewellery brings is profound, stifling sobs with both of her hands as she turns and tightly embraces her friend.

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @disdainfullady​. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.24 from @artoftalent07​ - tag, you’re it!

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE by @disdainfullady​

Veronica turned the page, fascinated despite herself. When Ruby had come stomping into Mars Investigations that morning, Veronica had had to try three of the breathing techniques Logan swore kept him from washing out of OCS before she dared to even acknowledge the girl.  Either she wasn’t fighter pilot material, or Ruby was worse than the drill sergeants – MTIs corrected the little Logan voice in her brain – because she could never be sure if those techniques actually helped, or just gave her time to fine tune her sarcasm.

In the year since Carrie’s death, Ruby had found half a dozen excuses to hire Veronica, mostly background checks for potential dates – so far none of them had been kicked out by a pop star’s security for hiding in a closet, but they were keeping hope alive – and one case where she was convinced the couple across the street were running drugs out of their basement.  She’d actually been right about that, although Ruby had based her theory on the idea that the couple had far more lawn ornaments than anyone not pushing meth had a right to, and still insisted that that was the big give away.

Veronica never had the heart to turn her away. Sure, she didn’t, they didn’t, strictly need the money, but there was something so earnest about Ruby, despite her off-the-wall conspiracy theories and what seemed like a new obsession every week.  It was sometimes hard to remember that Ruby was only a year younger than her - Veronica doubted she'd had half Ruby's enthusiasm and energy even in her all too distant pep squad days. Of course, she probably should aim for a degree or two below manic.

After leaving Veronica three voicemails of escalating urgency about a case she absolutely needed Veronica’s help on, Ruby had shown up at Mars Investigations that morning in full pensive-artist mode complete with glasses that were either fake or a prescription so minor that they might as well be, pages clutched to her chest, announcing that the case in question was that which took place in the novel she had written.

Veronica knew she should have politely declined. Maybe gotten Wallace to have one of his colleagues in the English department give it a read, if her conscience was really bugging her.  But it had been a slow week, and she wouldn’t have gone back to being a PI if she’d been able to resist the pull of her curiosity.  Nor would Logan forgive her if she wasn’t able to give him a full summary of the entire thing.

And the work was fascinating.

She wasn't sure what impressed her more, the depth of Ruby's research, or her completely scattershot method of applying it. Sure, she'd pulled in most of the obvious players, but there were some deep cuts in here.  Lenny?  Cole? She was pretty sure Cole's own parents forgot he existed when he wasn't in the room, yet here he was parading all over this mysterious snow ridden island within easy access of Southern California.  Actually, she mused, Cole would make a great killer in the traditional way of things. Veronica was always suspicious of named minor characters with no apparent motive.  

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Ruby was a fan of narrative efficiency, so he'd probably just been tossed into the manuscript along with the kitchen sink that she only hoped would be getting its big scene in the next chapter or two.

A chair scraped and she looked up, remembering just in time to wipe the incredulous glee off her face.  Ruby Jetson, formerly Della Pugh, literary alias Mistress X, had scooted her seat even closer to Veronica's desk, and was staring at her with an eager intensity.  Veronica cleared her throat and the - fortunately wigless - Ruby inched forward even closer, her knee actually bumping the desk.  

"Did you get to the part where they discover the island's tragic past?" asked Ruby.  The question burst out of her like she’d been holding it in for the past hour.

"Not yet - it has a tragic past?"

"Every mysterious island has a tragic past, Veronica." Ruby's scornful tone was undercut by the restless tapping of her leg.

"Oh of course," Veronica nodded with what she hoped was an appropriately serious expression.  "Well, that's something to look forward to, then." And she sort of was.  The way Ruby phrased it she rather hoped the island had had a passionate romance with a nearby peninsula only to lose it to  - how did you kill a peninsula, soil erosion maybe?

"But as I said earlier, it's going to take me a while to go through all this.  You really," really, really, really she thought, "don't need to sit here and watch me read it."

Ruby’s face scrunched in disapproval.  “You said that you’d prioritize my case, Veronica Mars.”

Veronica sighed.  She steepled her hands as she tried to gently let the girl down.  “That was when I thought you had a case.  I’m not a literary critic, Ruby.”

Ruby snorted.

“No, but you are a detective, and if I can stump you then I know my story’s good.”

Veronica carefully did not point out the flaws in that particular assertion.  “You don’t want it to be too baffling, Ruby.  Readers like the satisfaction of clues coming together.”

Ruby, beamed, apparently delighted by this rather commonplace observation.  “I knew you wouldn’t figure it out,” she crowed. “I bet you haven’t even grasped the significance of the chocolate.”

Veronica shook her head, even as one corner of her brain started following the trail begun by that breadcrumb.  The significance of the chocolate?  The number of chocolate martinis that had supposedly been consumed by the party were massive – but she’d been to plenty of 09er events that had better liquor stores than most bars.  Was there something to read into that?  Oh, that one was going to bother her.

She shook her head.  “Ruby, you already revealed your character as the bad guy. There’s nothing to figure out.”

Ruby’s mouth dropped open and she blinked at Veronica in surprise.

“Me?  I’m not the bad guy.”

“You’re not?”  She’s wasn’t?  Oh god, was Ruby supposed to be the heroine?  Was Veronica supposed to be rooting for her own comeuppance in this magnum opus of Ruby’s?

“You’re barely halfway through.  Do you honestly think that I would give away the real villain that soon?”

Ah.  Veronica looked down again at the depressingly large stack of papers in front of her.  It hadn’t seemed like this much when she’d started.  

Ruby smirked.  “Ruby Jetson is merely a red herring.”

“Ah, like communism,” Veronica murmured.

Though she had to point out, “Of course, you are killing people.”

“Madison Sinclair,” Ruby scoffed.

Veronica gave an equivocal head nod, not quite acknowledging the semi-validity of that point.

“And Leo.  Should I wonder why you even know Leo?”

Leo had been in San Diego for nearly a decade at this point, and occasional appearances at high school dances in Miami Vice regalia aside, she wouldn’t have thought he’d have had much occasion to cross paths with Ruby.

“I do my research, Veronica.” Ruby gave another one of her smug, knowing expressions.  Veronica, no stranger to being smug or knowing herself, sighed inwardly.

“And you didn’t actually see what happened to Leo did you?” Ruby continued.  “I mean, sure Lenny took credit, but then he would.”

With neither wealth, nor wit nor charisma, Lenny Sofer had been one of Neptune High’s more determined bullies, a nonentity so frustrated by his lack of status he spent all his time searching for those below him on the ladder, trying to push them down further.  Veronica had pretty much forgotten he’d existed the second she’d graduated, as she’d imagined, had most of their class, his chosen victims excluded.  Now if Ruby had written some sort of Murder on the Orient Express situation with Lenny as victim, she could probably get behind that.

“Is Lenny Sofer actually your cousin by the way?”

Ruby looked offended by the question.  Did she think Veronica had memorized her background the way she, Ruby, had apparently memorized Veronica’s?  Ruby did have a flare for investigation, if one could get past the whole bit where she was mildly bonkers.

“Lenny Sofer is a sociopath,” Ruby said, flatly.

That didn’t actually answer the question, Veronica noted.

“He bullied me for two years straight.  I had to spend my lunches hiding in that gross bathroom near the physics lab because someone kept putting out of order signs on the good one.”

Veronica’s eyebrows rose.  “So, you brought him in as your partner in crime?”

Ruby rolled her eyes.  “Again, not actually the bad guy.  And his character gets what’s coming to him a little further on.” She smiled, probably going for sinister but ending up on goofy.  “Let’s just say that was fun to write.”

Veronica supposed she could understand that.  She had always been more about enacting her revenge, but it wasn’t like that didn’t come with its own set of problems.  Maybe Ruby’s method was healthier, if a little odd.

She gave a little shrug and settled back to read some more.

[mydeardeath]

To belong with (8/8)

The series ends here. You can read everything with the tag ‘to belong series’

---

Damian opened the door for them. Alfred was probably in the cave at this hour, and he didn't want him to learn about Tim's return through a camera's lens.

Once they started descending to the cave, the Omega took his hand. Tim was tensed. Alfred should be the only one home, but there was no real guarantee.

The butler was sitting in front of the main computer when they entered. He didn't notice them right away. They didn't make much noise when moving, and they were standing in the shadows. Damian called out to him to make themselves known.

Alfred was suddenly looking up at him, surprise to have him come to the cave of his volition. He froze upon seeing that Damian wasn't alone. Tim was half-hidden behind Damian, but that didn't change anything. Alfred knew his boys to well.

"Master Tim," he spoke softly, hardly believing what he was seeing. Even with how much these boys tended to come back to life, it never ceased to amaze him.

"Alfred." Tim ran into his arms as the man stood up, clutching tightly to the old man.

"Welcome home, my boy. I am happy to see you well."

"Me too, Alfred. Me too."

"Have you talk to your father, Master Damian?" Alfred turned to the young man when Tim released him.

"It's a surprise, Al!" Tim exclaimed, not letting Damian the time to answer himself. Alfred would have probably sermoned Damian about keeping his return a secret. Tim had felt protective of the Alpha that had comforted him since he had been back. He had understood his reasons to stay silent. Damian had been the only one actively looking for him. In the end, he had found his way back home on his own, but it was the intention that mattered.

After that, Alfred had made them cookies as they waited for Dick and Bruce to come home. It had taken a few hours, during which Damian had begun to work on a new suit for Tim. They had decided to not change much of the design since Tim liked it, but they had planned to make it lighter and more resistant.

Two weeks after, Tim had started training with it when he was not playing at Damian's personnel Oracle. Even though that was frustrating for the Omega, they had both agree that he was not ready to go back on the street. That had given him time to be officially resurrected alongside all the other people that had come back. Wayne Enterprise had offered Tim his old office, but he had refused. He preferred to focus on other things than work for the moment. Plus, he could feel the offer was forced. It was understandable. After all, he was six years late so he wouldn't be the best for the post at the moment. Tim wasn't sure he would be back as CEO one day.

He had a trip planned for the weekend. Dick wanted him to meet his daughter. It had been weird to learn that Dick had a child. He had been less surprised by the arrangement he had with Koriand'r.

"Who's your friend, Damian" Dick had asked, finding two boys hunch over the table, inspecting sketches.

"Hi, Dick." Tim had turned and smiled at him as if everything was normal.

At first, his big brother had been too shocked to move. Then a sob had escaped his lips, and Dick had lifted Tim in the air, crying of happiness. Dick had talked to him, but Tim couldn't make sense of any of it trough all the sobbing.

"Don't put snot all over him, Grayson."

Dick didn't even glance at Damian but answered him nonetheless.

"Would you prefer I yelled at you? I'm pretty sure you had Tim for a few days and didn't tell us." He spoke more clearly so Damian could hear the reproach in his voice. "Good thing I only leave tomorrow. You should come with me, Tim, there someone you need to meet."

Tim left Dick's embrace to look at the man's face.

"You mean to tell me the Dick Grayson has settled down."

Damian snorted in the background.

"Well, not really, babybird. But I have a daughter now. I'm sure she would love to have another uncle. Maybe you could be her new favorite."

That was aimed at Damian, but he did not take the bait. He was pretty confident in his position. Mar'i was his number one fan nowadays.

"I'd love too, Dick."

Bruce had arrived soon after and, though he would deny it, he did no better than Grayson in holding back his tears.

"I'm glad to have you back, Tim. And I am sorry."

"What happened wasn't your fault, Bruce."

"I am sorry for not believing you, Damian. I'm thankful you were here for Tim."

Damian was put into the hug by Dick, who had decided that they should all join. Damian hugged them back awkwardly, not used to it after years of distancing himself from his family.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

"Don't really know, I was thinking about college. I had been considering it before. I can still be in the loop by being Oracle. I might come back as Red Robin when I feel like it. But for now, I don't. I thought I would but no."

It was hard admitting it, especially after he had insisted on training every day to prepare his return. But Damian didn't seem to judge him. He was supportive of his plan even though he didn't like the idea of Tim going away to Ivy. But it wasn't that far, he would cope.

***

One month later, he had helped Tim settle down on campus. His apartment was pretty small compared to what they were used to. The kitchen was opened in the living room that was only furnished with a sofa and a coffee table, which would probably be where Tim would be taking most of his meal, considering he didn't have enough space for a table or chairs. Tim's bedroom was taken by a double bed and all of his tech. There was barely any place to pass between the desk and the bed.

Tim had wanted something small and inconspicuous. He did not want any of his fellow students to know he was part of the Wayne family nor that he was one of those who had come back after disappearing for six years. That would have attracted far too much attention, and Tim didn't want any. He wanted to spend his college year as a simple student. If he was going to be noticed, it would be for his brain.

Or for the handsome Alpha that kept visiting him. Damian was here almost every weekend to spent some time with him, always bringing homecooked meals. Most of the other Omega on his floor were jealous. They would dress pretty when they knew there a chance he would be here and would wander through the building hallways. Some would even do it while smelling of pre-heat, not that Damian ever seemed to notice. He only had eyes for Tim.

He was not an enamored Alpha that would stare at him blissfully. But he would always give his full attention to Tim when he was dropping by.

And all the small gestures were hard to ignore. Damian made sure to always be up first to prepare him breakfast for when he would emerge.

How many times had he carried Tim to bed when he was falling asleep on his homework? After tucking Tim in, he would read the man's essays, checking for mistakes, and writing some pointers if he was familiar with the subject.

He always seemed to know when Tim had a test and made sure he had an appropriate amount of sleep before. He also checked that Tim wasn't missing it by sleeping in. He had saved Tim so many times.

Even when he was not here, he would regularly send messages to Tim to remind him to eat or sleep.

Tim was starting to fell for the Alpha as the months passed. They had talked so much through messages and comms or when Damian was over. Tim had learned to know the man Damian had become and he liked it. And he wasn't blind. He knew that Damian was interested too. Hell, he had even met his mother. Sure, he had already seen Talia Al Ghul before. But this time she had come as Damian's mother. She had warned him to never die again. She had hated how weak Damian had become. The alpha had told him how she had broken into his house and held a knife to his throat while he was too slow inattentive to realize that someone was here. How she had told him to wake up and stop being pathetic. She had gotten her wish with Tim's return.

That's why when Damian reminded him that he wouldn't be able to make this weekend because of his rut, Tim argued.

"You could have it here."

"I... what?" The alpha spluttered, not believing what he was hearing.

"Your rut, you could have it here," Tim repeated, insisting on every word to make himself clear.

"What are you saying, Timothy?" Damian's voice was thick with anticipation.

"I'm saying we could spend it together. If you want to."

It was expected that Damian would say yes. The flower had been a surprise. But Tim found it cute anyway.

[cs-discourse]

Since I feel like I may have gotten this across poorly: I want to make it clear I do not at all support AS, nor am I defending it. It’s gone incredibly down hill and the staff team make the staff of CS seem like the best you’ve ever encountered, and that doesn’t even touch how much I disagree with some themes they allow. I do not at all feel like it should be mentioned or linked on CS at all. What I do feel is that CS needs to actually mention it’s not allowed, and majorly adjust their rules. They need to be specific (as specific as you can be with still making it child safe. An example for AS would be this site allows illegal and explicit things to be written and we have decided it is best and safest it is banned from the site) with why exactly certain sites aren’t allowed and beyond vague things of purely “it’s known for mature content” and “it has mature content we can’t moderate” because that (the latter) goes for nearly every site linked frequently. You cannot go through and verify a thousand post tumblr and all it’s posts and tags and the usernames it has reblogged from don’t contain NSFW content, nor can you go through a thousand video YouTube channel or a video or instagram post with 5000 comments. You can’t control an image link to Pinterest wont show one NSFW among it, and the same goes for imgur. Guess what was once known for porn? Tumblr, the number one site for gifs used in RPing. Guess what’s known for mature content? Game of fucking Thrones. You can mention and write things within the world of Game of Thrones, which is very clearly and obviously not child safe or appropriate. There are inconsistencies and things are picked and chosen when they shouldn’t be. People who truly don’t know AS shouldn’t be mentioned and don’t exactly know the depths of why or AS, or come to the conclusion it’s okay because things like GoT are, shouldn’t be penalized for a rule that isn’t publicly there that you need to be in the know to be aware of. You cannot have unspoken rules like that. It’s also not right to completely remove mentions of someone’s death. References to Advanced Scribes could have been removed, with the creator left. Hardly anyone knew his connection through the user they used for him anymore, he could have been safely mentioned or at least somehow alluded to. He was someone I spoke to a few times and was going to write with. I knew him. He made the site that was once a home to me and got me through a hell and then started my next one that I’m still healing from. Seeing that and how CS hurt people by doing that further broke my fucking heart. I also feel terrible that I had that link there ever at all. It makes me physically sick to know that I did and I cannot express how terribly sorry I am for that and how I wish I had never put it there when it was still allowed. I was a child when I put it there that didn’t understand the severity of things and because I was young and sheltered didn’t see how bad the site really was and what that could do to you and with all the effort I’ve put into distancing myself from that hellsite as an adult as much as I can due to its involvement in some of my traumas, I forgot it was ever there. I don’t look at my CS profile much at all, and when I did, it was the same thing it had always been so I never noticed it. I am so sorry.

[ceealaina]

Title: In My Dreams I Turn You On - Chapter 2 Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Mutual Pining Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony’s crushing hard on his new massage therapist, but doesn’t want to be a sleazy businessman. Bucky’s crushing hard on his latest client, but doesn’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable position. So they handle it like any sane adults - pretend it’s not happening and refuse to discuss it. At least they both have terrible friends to help them through it. Word Count: 11,067 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

And that makes a bingo!

Tony tried to resist, really he did, tried to be logical about it all. Look at the facts: James was exactly his type, as much as Tony had ever had one. And he’d had his hands all over Tony’s body — professionally, but for someone as tactile as Tony was, touch was touch. It made sense that he’d react to that, especially since it had maybe been awhile since he’d had someone in his life in that particular capacity. Tony had thought, or at least hoped, that with a bit of space and a good night’s sleep, he’d move on. 

But when, nearly a week later, he was still thinking about James’ laugh, thinking about how loose and relaxed he had felt afterwards, when he was still trying to keep his mind from drifting to blue eyes and a low husky voice when he jerked off at night… He caved. Telling himself that he’d probably built James up in his mind, that if he saw him in person again he’d be able to find a flaw, talk himself out of his silly crush, he booked another massage. And then he may or may not have slipped into the system to ensure that it was James who was assigned as his therapist.

He jerked off beforehand this time, just in case. It had been awhile since he’d been laid. Maybe last time he’d been a little touch starved, and his body had just felt good and his brain had run with it. 

Tony had always been very good at mental gymnastics. 

But the second he walked in the door and spotted James, he knew all his planning had been for nothing. 

James was leaning casually against the table where he kept all his supplies. He had one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, which pulled the fabric of his pants tight across his gorgeously thick thighs, and made Tony want nothing more than to straddle them right here. James was peering down a chart in his hand, tongue poking out between his teeth adorably, but he looked up with a smile at the sound of the door. 

“Hey Mr.-- uh, Tony.” He gave him a brilliant grin, a little flustered, and Tony honest to god felt his knees go weak. 

“Hello, James,” Tony replied, and then immediately wanted to kick himself because his voice had dropped to a lower register, and really, could he sound like more of a sleazy businessman? He smiled, hoping to offset the creepiness, and he could feel his face stretch into something ridiculous and manic. Oh god, is that what his smile always seemed like? He suddenly couldn’t remember what felt normal for his face, or his hands for that matter. Clearing his throat, he tried to come up with something — anything — normal to say. “‘Sup?” 

That… Was not it.

If James had noticed what an absolute weirdo Tony was being, he didn’t comment, just smiled at him brightly. His smile was somehow even more gorgeous that Tony had remembered. 

“Nothing much,” he told him, like ‘sup’ was a perfectly normal, non-90s way of greeting someone. “Headed up to Boston over the weekend. Birthday trip?”

“Really?” Tony latched onto the fact like a dying man. Boston he knew. Boston, he could talk about with something almost resembling normalcy. “I went to school in Boston.” 

James arched an eyebrow at that, and Tony hid a wince because duh, Stark, everyone knew that. 

“What, uh… What did you do there?” 

“Um…” There was the faintest hint of a blush staining Bucky’s cheeks “Well. We had a whole bunch of stuff planned, but then we accidentally spent an entire day at the Museum of Science, so…” 

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re a nerd.” 

A second later it occurred to him that most people probably wouldn’t take that like the compliment it was, but fortunately James didn’t seem offended. 

“Little bit, yeah,” he admitted, rubbing at his lower lip to hide what Tony personally thought was an absolutely adorable smile. 

“What did you see? Did you get to the new exhibit on advanced AI?”

James huffed out a little laugh. “Tell you what,” he offered. “We’re cutting into your ninety minutes, so why don’t we get started and then I promise I’ll regale you with science stories while I work.” 

Tony had honestly forgotten why he was even here for a moment. He blinked at James a moment. “Am I dreaming right now? A massage from— from you.” He stumbled a little awkwardly over the words. He’d been about to say ‘a gorgeous man.’ “And we get to talk science? Sounds fake, but okay. Also, I would just like to point out that I am kind of the boss. If we want to take more than ninety minutes, I’m pretty sure we can do that.”

James snorted. “I like how you assume I don’t have anything else going on after this.” 

“Do you?” Tony asked, before he could stop himself. 

James shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted, grinning. From what Tony could tell, he seemed genuinely amused and not ‘you technically employ me so I’ve gotta laugh’ amused. “I’ve got another appointment, after you, and then that’s it. All free and clear.” 

There was a long moment then, both of them looking at each other in a way that, to Tony at least, felt heavy. Expectant. It would be so easy to just ask if he wanted to grab dinner, or coffee after. 

“Professionalism,” he managed to get out instead. “I like that.” 

James grinned back at him, and Tony told himself that he was imagining the slight tinge of disappointment to it. 

***

True to his word, once they’d gone over Tony’s problem areas, and he was settled comfy-cozy beneath the sheets, and James had returned to the room and gotten started on Tony’s back, he told him in perfect detail about his time at the science museum. He hadn’t been kidding about being ‘a little bit’ of a nerd; the way he’d get distracted on tangents, practically yelling in excitement until he remembered where he was and tamped it down again, was making Tony all kinds of nostalgic for being at MIT with Rhodey. 

He could feel himself falling a little harder with each passing second. 

Tony resisted the urge to jump in, to go into science teacher mode, because he’d gotten feedback in the past that that was a bit of a turn off. He didn’t point out that he’d actually been a consultant in the museum’s collaboration with MIT on the AI exhibit — James probably would have read that in the exhibit info, and if he hadn’t then Tony bragging about it wasn’t going to endear him in any way. But he couldn’t stop himself from fishing for a bit more information.

“So,” he managed, when there was an appropriate lull in the conversation (thankfully not cutting James off mid-word, like he had when he’d gotten a little too over enthusiastic about nanoparticles). “Who’d you go with? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Your... more intelligent than the average bear?” 

He could feel his neck heat, was glad that the room was dark, that he was lying face down so James couldn’t see the truly ridiculous facial expressions he was probably making right now. 

James made a faint noise that Tony couldn’t quite interpret. “Uh. No, nothing like that. I mean, Stevie’s dumber’n a bear sometimes, but no. Just some friends.” There was a brief hesitation, and then, softer, “Besides, you’d have to have one of those to take them with you.” 

Tony felt a stupid grin cross his face, even more relieved that he was facing the floor. “Yeah, that, uh… That’ll help,” he managed. 

The rest of the session passed entirely too quickly, and before he knew it James was taking a step back, telling him to take it easy and drink lots of water today. Tony hummed out a vague agreement, staring a little dazed up at the ceiling. James huffed out a soft laugh and then hesitated for the briefest of moments at the doorway. 

“It was nice seeing you today, Tony. Hope I’ll see you again soon.”

And then he was gone, leaving Tony blinking helplessly at the ceiling. He stayed there for a long time after he left. 

“Fuck.”  

***

There was really no going back, after that. Tony set up a standing appointment for every other Friday, and it very quickly became the highlight of his week. He also didn’t think he’d jerked off this much before in his entire life, but that was neither here nor there. Because the thing was, yes, James was hot as shit. But he was also ridiculously easy to talk to, and after just a couple of weeks, Tony felt like he’d known him forever, the same sort of instant connection that he’d felt when he’d first met Steve. 

Except, of course, he and Steve had fallen into an easy friendship while with James he just kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to take him apart, so maybe Rhodey was a more apt comparison. 

Tony knew he was driving his friends crazy. He’d started getting JARVIS to mark off his calendar with racquetball, just so he wouldn’t have to endure the looks that Pepper had started giving him when he told her he was going for another massage appointment. Not the usual ‘oh my god, are you kidding me’ looks that she got whenever he was doing something else gross — those he could have handled — but soft, sympathetic looks, like she thought he was in love or something. Perish the thought. Steve, on the other hand, had flat out banned Tony from talking about James anymore under threat of not hanging out until he either stopped going, or pulled his tits up and asked him out. Tony still managed to work him into every conversation. Pining was hard. 

Rhodey, at least, was a little more understanding. He and Sam had been roommates first, danced around each other for months without even knowing if the other one was into men before Sam had tripped and Rhodey had fallen and they’d ended up with their mouths on each other’s dicks. And then it had been another few months of “it’s just sex,” and “it doesn’t mean anything, Tony, really, shut up about it,” until they’d finally admitted that it was, in fact, a lot more than just sex. So Rhodey understood. Tony was still driving him absolutely bananas, but he at least understood. 

***

Tony didn’t know it, but Bucky wasn’t doing much better. Almost from the moment one session would end, he’d be counting down the hours until the next one. Every day that they didn’t have an appointment, he’d get a — frankly embarrassing — thrill low in his belly, wondering, imagining if he might run into Tony somewhere in the building. And on the days when he did, when he and Tony would make eye contact and Tony would give them that smile, like just seeing Bucky had saved him from a terrible day? Bucky knew it was probably just a reflex, born of being trained to be the consummate businessman since he was a kid, but it never failed to make his entire day, leaving Bucky smiling like a fool the whole day long.

He was kind of a ridiculous romantic like that.

It would be easier, maybe, if he thought it was completely one-sided, if it was just a hopeless crush on his part that he could wallow in and then get over. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely unrequited. He’d caught Tony giving him a look once or twice, when he thought he wasn’t looking, eyes lingering over his ass or thighs. But more than that, he’d say things sometimes, something innocuous that could almost be taken to mean something else. It wouldn’t be such a big deal, except then he’d get this look on his face. If Bucky blinked he’d miss it, but for just a second his eyes would go wide, and he’d have an ‘oh shit’ look on his face, like he hadn’t meant to let that slip. And then there’d been that long moment, their second appointment. He had been so absolutely sure that Tony was going to ask him out, had held his breath as he waited. 

And then the moment had passed and Tony hadn’t said anything at all. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t imagining it, that he wasn’t the only one who could feel how instantly they had connected, how ridiculously well they got along. 

Bucky had a tendency to flirt as natural as breathing, always had. It had gotten him in trouble once or twice as a kid in school, when he’d been caught kissing girls under the slide on the playground. It was hard for him to tamp that down, when he had Tony on the table, not to make everything sound like an innuendo. Not to turn on the charm, to up their banter, to do everything he could to get that smile out of him and make him laugh until he was just as smitten as Bucky was. He was just so easy to get along with. Maybe it was just the years long crush talking, but Bucky couldn’t help thinking that Tony saw him. He seemed to really get him, to understand him on a more-than-professional level. They had the same stupid sense of humor, the same style of arguing, and Bucky could listen to Tony go off on science tangents for literal hours. And sometimes he’d share things, stories from university, or about his best friend, or the most recent thing he’d done to exasperate his phenomenal PA, and Bucky couldn’t help thinking that these weren’t the kinds of stories that he shared with just everyone. He just wanted to take him out for dinner and learn everything about him, every secret he had. But like, in a sweet, totally non-creepy way. 

And as an added bonus? Good lord, Tony was gorgeous. 

Bucky had always known that, logically. His crush had to come from somewhere. But he was infinitely more gorgeous in person. Sometimes it was really hard not to let his voice drop into something low and wanting and sexy when the lights were dimmed low, and Tony was almost naked on the table, making those noises when Bucky got close to his ass, and all he could think about was dropping to his knees and sucking Tony off until he screamed.

Just the thought had Bucky twitching as he lay in bed, trying to will himself to just go to sleep. He normally tried not to think about it too… vividly, in his day to day. It felt like an invasion of privacy, imagining Tony like that, especially when he frequently dealt with him while the other man was in a pretty vulnerable position. And, irrational though it may have been, there was a part of him that worried that, if he let himself imagine it too much, he might just forget one day, greet Tony with a hot and heavy make out session, or something even worse. 

At night, though… 

Bucky shifted on the bed again, squirming a little as he felt his cock thicken in his shorts. It felt okay at night, when he was lying here in the dark. LIke he was a step removed from it. It was too easy to picture Tony, to imagine that there was something there, that he could just have him, whenever he wanted. It went against every bit of his sense of professionalism, but the idea of fooling around under the guise of giving Tony ‘therapy’ sent a delicious thrill through his stomach, made him groan as it thrummed in his balls. 

“Shit,” Bucky breathed, palming absently over his dick through the silky material. It was fine, he was a grown ass adult who was in complete control of his physical reactions. He wasn’t going to jerk off thinking of Tony (again). He wasn’t. He just had to adjust himself, and…

Bucky hissed out a low breath, eyes rolling back as he gripped himself. He couldn’t resist dragging his thumb up the length of dick, hips jerking when he rubbed just underneath the head. Then he grit his teeth and pulled his hand away, willing his cock to calm the fuck down. He’d just jerked off this morning, he was fine. He huffed loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face. There was an itch on his thigh, and reached down to scratch at it, squeezing his eyes shut like he could somehow force himself to sleep. Instead, his mind offered up the image of warm, brown eyes, Tony’s face scrunching up as he laughed at something Bucky had said; apparently he daydreamed about Tony so frequently now that picturing Tony was automatic. It was just so easy to imagine him, the way his tongue would always dart out, swipe over his lips before he’d suck the lower one between his teeth. It killed Bucky every time. 

He shivered, and abruptly realized that scratching the itch on his thigh had turned to dragging his blunt fingernails back and forth over the hyper-sensitive skin, a light, thrilling, tease. He groaned out loud, tugged at his hair in frustration which backfired spectacularly when it made his cock twitch. 

“Jesus Christ, Barnes,” he said to the empty room. “Pull yourself together.” 

He sat up enough to flip the pillow over to the cool side, flopping back down and turning onto his side so he could shove his face into it, spreading his legs a little to accommodate the weight of his dick. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on deep breathing, but inevitably his thoughts turned to Tony again. It wasn’t even the top of the list of things that Bucky adored about him, but the man was stupidly beautiful. Picturing his smile, Bucky could imagine himself stepping closer to him, the way Tony’s eyes would drag down his body, catching on his thighs the way they always did, when he thought Bucky wouldn’t notice. As easy as if it had really happened, he could imagine himself moving closer still, Tony’s eyes going wide and dark when Bucky got up in his space, lips parting on a soft breath. Every once in awhile, after a long day, Tony’s normally coiffed hair would be reduced to a mess of curls. Bucky was picturing it like that now, imagining carding his hand through it the way he always wanted, tugging just a little until Tony gasped, head tipping back to look up at him, eyes soft and wide and hungry for it. 

Bucky’s hips jerked involuntarily, and he whined as the motion ground his dick against the mattress, sending a sharp shock of pleasure through his body. God, he just… He wanted so bad, wanted Tony’s hands all over his body, wanted to get his own hands on that gorgeous ass and haul Tony right up tight against him, the two of them grinding against each other, so overwhelmed they couldn’t so much as undress. Wanted to take Tony to bed, spread him out, take his time kissing every inch of his body until he was gasping and pleading, wanted Tony to do the same to him in kind, to feel those calloused fingers wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He’d known all along, really, that this was inevitable, and he pushed down the guilt as he shoved his hand into his shorts, eyes nearly crossing as he closed his fist tight, the pressure sending tingles all the way down to his toes. He wasted no time with teasing himself, jerking off with a steady, firm grip, trying to emulate how he thought Tony, with his technical mind, might set about taking him apart. His hand moved faster at the thought, imagining Tony watching him with a serious expression, cataloguing every shift of his body, every twitch of his face, figuring out how to take him apart in the best possible way. Tony, leaning in close, biting at his lips, crooning at him to go ahead and come, and Bucky… Bucky would… 

His balls drawing up tight, Bucky turned his head back into the pillow as he came, biting down against the fabric so that he didn’t actually let Tony’s name slip past his lips like he desperately wanted. 

After, when he’d kicked off his shorts and cleaned up with the tissues he kept on the bedside table, and lay sprawled out on his back, still catching his breath, he couldn’t help thinking of the afterward. He and Tony laughing goofily, still a little orgasm high. Tony pressing up against his side for cuddles, the way he’d fit perfectly under Bucky’s chin. For a brief moment, his arms actually ached with the desire to just hold him. 

Worse, he was pretty sure he wanted that comfortable intimacy even more than the imagined amazing sex. 

He was a goddamn mess.

***

“Fuck,” Bucky whined, pillowing his head in his arms on the table. 

“Dude.” Sam’s hand grabbed the back of Bucky’s t-shirt, yanking him upright. “What are you doing? We’re in a bar, you freak. Quit embarrassing me in front of the ladies.” 

“What ladies?” Bucky grumbled. “You’re gay, Sam. You’re married. To a man.” 

Sam just shrugged at him, like he was missing the point, and Bucky huffed. 

“You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t know you’re alive. You and Rhodes moved in the first night you met.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because we were roommates. He was fresh off a tour and needed a place? Mutual friend set us up? And then we spent the next few months dancing around each other before we finally admitted we had feelings for each other? Any of this ringing a bell?” Sam shook his head, stealing Bucky’s beer. “Jesus Buck, how much have you had?” 

“Uh… A few?” Bucky offered, because he couldn’t actually remember how much he’d had to drink, waiting for Sam to show up, but now that it had been called to his attention, he was definitely feeling it. 

Sam just shook his head, obviously trying not to smile. “You got it bad, huh?” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Bucky burst out, waving an arm in the air and narrowly avoiding clipping a server and sending their tray flying through the air. “He’s…” Bucky tried to think of a way to describe how wonderful Tony was, but he’d signed an NDA, and was drunk enough that he couldn’t figure out if it applied here, so it was probably safer not to describe him at all.

“Gotta admit man, never thought you’d go for some corporate schill.” Sam was blatantly laughing at him, and Bucky glared.

“He’s not!” Bucky tried to keep the whine out of his voice. “He’s perfect. He… He’s brilliant, and funny, and so kind. He knows everyone’s names, literally everybody. And… And his body?” He leaned in close, conspiratorial. “Okay, you can’t repeat this, but his first session, he got hard, man. Like, hard. His dick was perfect. I just wanted to drop to my knees and—“

“Jesus.” Sam made a gagging noise. “Too much info, Bucky, come on. I may be gay, but that doesn’t mean I wanna picture you having sex.” 

“Whatever.” Bucky heaved out a sigh again, and this time, when he pillowed his head in his arms, Sam didn’t try to stop him. “I am so fucked.” 

Sam’s hand settled on his back, smacking him in a way that Bucky was pretty sure was intended to be comforting. “It’s okay, man. It’ll get better.”

***

Bucky woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a numb left arm. For probably a too long moment, he thought he’d just slept on it wrong, cut off circulation and hadn’t woken up enough in the night to roll over. 

And then awareness cut through the hangover as he realized that he couldn’t have lost circulation because he didn’t have a left arm. Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself to a sitting position, wincing at the bright sunlight that was filtering through the window -- drunk Bucky was a dick, who hadn’t bothered closing the curtains. The prosthetic was completely dead, and he couldn’t help glaring at it like he could somehow will it back to life through sheer force of his irritation. This had happened once or twice before (the arm going dead, not the willing it back to functioning part), but it was a pain in the ass to reset, and he squinted at it as he tried to remember the proper sequence. It was entirely too early in the morning to be dealing with this shit, and he kind of wanted to punch his past self in the face for drinking this much on a work night. 

Eventually he dragged himself out of bed and into his kitchen, knocking back a glass of water and a couple advil and digging through his junk drawer until he found the instructions he’d written out the last time this had happened. He sat at the kitchen table as he opened the hidden control panel and followed the instructions, rubbing his face and then leaning into his right hand, half dozing as he waited for the reset to complete.

And then he yelped and nearly jumped out of his chair when, instead of the normal return of sensation that he’d expected, there was a sharp, jarring buzzing feeling, stretching from his fingertips right up through the nerve connectors that let him use the arm with a thought. “Aw, fuck,” he grit out, the sensation making his teeth clench and his head throb. There was an emergency shut off button -- he’d always pictured the arm going rogue and trying to murder people -- and he practically slammed it now, slumping in relief as the arm went back to being dead weight. 

“Well, fuck,” he mumbled out loud. “That’s probably not covered in the instruction manual.” He sighed, weighing his options. There was no way he’d be going in to work today; even if he could get an appointment with the prosthetics team, it would likely take up a fair chunk of his day, and until he got in, he didn’t think anyone would be thrilled with a one-armed massage. Which colossally sucked, because it was his standing appointment with Tony today, and he’d been looking forward to it all week. 

For a minute he was tempted to go in anyway, maybe get his other appointments covered but meet with Tony, ask him about it personally. Even if he hadn’t worked on it himself, the man was a genius. He’d probably have some idea of what the problem was. But Bucky knew he wasn’t really going to do that, tempting as the thought of Tony working on him personally was. He’d be cheating Tony out of massage appointment, for one thing, and while he’d gotten to know Tony well enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t actually mind, it just felt like a little too much of an abuse of his position for him to really be comfortable with it. 

Of course, when he finally got through to the prosthetics department, and it turned out it was going to be a three week wait before he could even get in to see somebody, and who knew how long after that before the damn thing was actually fixed, he was kind of regretting his decision. But hey, maybe Sam was right and this was the ‘getting better’ that he had been talking about. Some space from Tony would probably be good, really, let him adjust to his feelings, maybe give him the chance to accept that it was never going to happen and move on. 

He kept trying to tell himself that, but he couldn’t shake the ache at not knowing when he’d even have the chance to see Tony again. 

***

Tony’d had the morning from hell -- board meetings were awful on a good day, and when he had to spend the entire time arguing with a bunch of old men who didn’t even understand what they were talking about, it made them even worse -- but that didn’t stop him from humming to himself from lunchtime on. It was probably a sign of just how far gone he was, but knowing he was seeing James in just a few hours kept his mood up. He’d been talking with one of his work contacts at JPL the night before, and he’d mentioned some new developments that he knew James was going to lose his mind over. He was practically bouncing by the time he finally headed off for his appointment, all but bursting into the room. 

“Hey, so, guess what I just hea… Hi.” He blinked, bemused, as he was met with Louise instead. Recovering quickly, he offered her a bright smile. “Hey Louise!” 

She grinned back at him. “Hey, Tony.” Her eyebrows arched. “Long time no see.” There was something knowing in her gaze, and Tony shifted a little. 

“Yeah, uh… I guess my appointments got switched over to James, when he started working here.”

“Mmmm. Lucky you then, huh?” Louise gave him a wink. “He’s a gorgeous boy.”

And sure, of course he was, but that didn’t really explain why he wasn’t here. Louise didn’t offer any further comments on James though, just set about beginning the session, and Tony just went along with it. He was missing some social cues sometimes, but he was pretty sure demanding to know what happened to his other massage therapist would be rude at best. 

Still, despite the small talk, and Louise’s story about her trip to Prague, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about James, wondering where he was and if everything was okay. He lasted about fifteen minutes -- thankfully managing to catch an appropriate break in the conversation, before he couldn’t wait any longer and had to ask. 

“So, uh…” He closed his eyes, even though Louise couldn’t see his face anyway, and hoped that he wasn’t as obvious as he thought he sounded. “Where is James, today?” He was struck by the sudden fear that he’d made him comfortable enough to want to quit, or at least not face Tony again, and felt himself tense up. “Hope everything’s alright?” 

If Louise felt his back go tight, she didn’t comment. “Nah, everything’s fine,” she assured him. “Just a sick day.” 

Immediately Tony’s mind went to the frankly adorable image of James, curled up on his couch with a blanket, coughing and sniffling his way through his Netflix queue. He felt the inexplicable desire to take care of him, and was wondering if it would be overstepping to send him get-well flowers, or maybe soup from that tiny hole-in-the-wall diner over in Alphabet City, when he realized that Louise was still talking. 

“He mentioned something about his prosthetic not working. Said it would be a few weeks before he even gets in for an appointment, so it’ll probably be awhile before he’s back.” 

And okay, if Bucky’s arm was acting up, that was… Well, embarrassing was what it was, since it was a Stark Industries product, but more importantly, that was something that Tony could fix. He was barely conscious for the rest of the massage, mind already whirling a mile a minute as he thought of all the ways he could improve the prosthetic, how he could tailor it, increase the sensation, bring up the response time. He didn’t know what James needed specifically, but it would be easy enough to bring up the schematics for the most recent improvements, see what more could be done -- especially if he stepped in personally. 

He’d had an informal business dinner that evening, but he cancelled it as soon as Louise left the room, almost forgetting to get dressed again in his hurry to get back to his personal lab. The second he’d had JARVIS bring up the necessary schematics, he’d been beset upon by ideas, had worked through night, pausing only for a couple hours sleep on the cot he kept down there before he was back at it again. 

It was… Sometime the next day when Pepper came in, arching an eyebrow at the pants and rumpled shirt that he was still wearing from the day before. “Well. Someone’s been busy.” 

Tony hummed out a distracted answer, and Pepper stepped closer, her other eyebrow shooting up when she realized what he was working on. 

“Really, Tony?” 

Tony did look up then, eyes wide as he tried to hide his guilty expression. “What?” he asked, a little defensively. “It’s a matter of professional pride.” Pepper didn’t answer, and Tony huffed, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “The prosthetic stopped working! This is an SI product, and we have to stand by our products, and -- DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, PEPPER!” 

Pepper just sighed sympathetically and then leaned over, kissing his temple. “Just don’t work yourself too hard, okay? I know how you tend to throw yourself into things when you’re personally invested, and…” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, right over his heart so there’d be no mistake of what she meant. “Just take care of yourself, Tony. Make sure you eat. Get some actual rest,” she told him, heading for the door again. “And maybe take a shower!” she called back over her shoulder. “You kind of stink.” 

Tony had rolled his eyes, refusing to let her see how genuinely touched he was by her obvious concern, and though he did shower and even ordered an entire pizza, he still worked through the weekend. By Monday morning, he had a working prototype, one that was specifically tailored to James. And while he’d been supremely tempted to track down James’s address and show up with the arm as a surprise, possibly while wearing a trench coat and nothing else, he was pretty sure that was the lack of sleep talking, and quite likely a good way to end up calling Rhodey for bail (again). Forcing himself to keep a respectful, professional distance, he had instead taken it over to the prosthetics department, explaining the updates and laying out how they should be applied to all the prosthetics moving forward, and then politely suggesting that, since he’d used him as an example, they should trial it on James, and push up his appointment. Preferably to today. 

Then he’d gone up to the penthouse with plans to collapse into his bed for the next twelve hours.

If he was being totally honest with himself, there was a tiny part of Tony that had thought James would maybe call, that he’d want to thank Tony personally and in the process admit to some reciprocated feelings. But the day passed without so much as a word, and the one after that as well. By Wednesday, Tony caved and called Fred in prosthetics, who assured him that Mr. Barnes had in fact been fitted with the prosthetic arm on Monday, as… suggested, and had seemed inordinately pleased with it. 

So that was that.

Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, that maybe James wouldn’t have known just how much of an overhaul the arm had received, or even realized that Tony had been the one to do it. Tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a rejection, that it hadn’t changed anything between them. Or hell, maybe it was a rejection. Either way he had to move on with his life. He was going to Rhodey and Sam’s that night for tacos -- because they were that married couple -- so he could focus on the people he knew loved him back. 

Of course, this newfound resolve lasted long enough for him to let himself in the front door of the house and throw himself on the couch, ignoring Rhodey’s attempts at beating whatever video game he was playing in favour of shoving his head in his lap. “Rhodeyyy,” he whined. “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just love me?” 

“Oh jesus,” Rhodey muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shove Tony’s face off his knee. 

“Rude. You’d think you’d have more sympathy. I very clearly remember more than one occasion of having to pour you into bed after getting drunk and crying over your ‘unrequited’ love for Sam.” 

Rhodey gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh boy. Here we go again.” 

Tony ignored that, snuggling in closer. “This would be easier with you, Honeybear. Even if you worked for me, you’ve never taken me seriously anyway, no abuse of power, right? Let’s start dating again!” 

Giving up on his video game, Rhodey rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’m with Sam now!”

“That’s fine! The more the merrier!” 

“Oh my god,” Rhodey muttered, laughing despite himself. 

“I built him a new arm, Rhodey!” 

“What’s going on now?” Sam asked, walking into the room with a round of beer and an arched eyebrow, and the impeccable timing of a man sensing that his husband was in need of rescue.

“Don’t ask,” Rhodey told him, not quite cutting off Tony as he launched into a very detailed overview of his long and tragic love story. Rhodey covered his mouth. “Tony’s pining again,” he added succinctly, before scrunching up his face when Tony licked his hand in retaliation. 

“Ah,” Sam laughed sympathetically, sliding the bottles across the table as he settled into the armchair. “Your physiotherapist, right?” 

“Close enough,” Tony muttered, finally pulling away so he could sit up and drink the beer without spilling it all over himself -- never let it be said that Tony didn’t learn from his mistakes. “Point being, I’m in a position of power. If I make any kind of a move I’m gonna be that guy, which is the last thing I want. And then it’s all. ‘Does he really want me? Did he say yes because he thought he had to? Is that gonna define our whole relationship?’ That’s if he even feels that way.” Sam was eyeing him suspiciously, and Tony finally sighed, giving him a somewhat dirty look. “Okay, what? Are you making fun of me too?” 

“No, I’m not making fun of you,” Sam assured him. 

“I am,” Rhodey muttered, just loud enough for Tony to hear. Sam ignored him. 

“I’ve just got the strangest sense of deja vu right now. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Probably because it’s the only conversation Tony has lately,” Rhodey offered. “And I’ve recounted it to you so many times that you feel like you were there.” 

Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “Hey Rhodes? Fuck you.” 

Of course, Rhodey couldn’t take that lying down, and they very quickly devolved into a wrestling match, with added effect of Sam worrying so much about the two of them destroying the antique vase inherited from his grandmother that he completely forgot to try and parse out why the conversation had seemed so familiar. 

***

At least, he forgot about it until the next day, when he was meeting Bucky for lunch. He’d barely sat down when Bucky came bursting into the restaurant, looking around wildly. He spotted Sam and nearly knocked over an entire (thankfully empty) table in his rush to get to him. 

“Holy shit!” he yelped, apparently uncaring of the dirty look that earned him from the elderly couple a few tables over. “Guess what he did!” 

Sam blinked at him, utterly lost. “Guess what… Who did what now?” 

Apparently too overwhelmed to properly explain, Bucky started waving his left arm wildly through the air, catching his water glass and nearly sending it flying. “He built me an entirely new fuckin’ arm, Sam.” 

For the briefest of moments, Sam thought he was having an entire out of body experience. “He… He built you an arm,” he repeated weakly. Bucky was too busy gesticulating and waxing poetic to notice as Sam’s mind melted for a minute. “Of course he did. Because my idiot and Rhodes’s idiot are the same fuckin’ pair of idiots.” 

And then, because he wouldn’t be a real friend if he didn’t try to get the maximum amount of possible entertainment out of this, he grinned. 

“Hey, Buck? Why don’t you come with me ‘n Rhodey to the SI gala tomorrow night? Rhodey’s got a… contact. I’m sure we could get you an extra ticket. And hey, maybe your hunk of handsome’ll be there, huh?”

The way that Bucky’s face went pale, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t even comprehend the idea, was absolutely priceless. 

@tonystarkbingo