#or don’t take you to doctors and just assume you’re acting up to spite them

[spicyicymeloncat]

Been watching a lot of my cat from hell recently. They’re so relatable.

By that i mean the cats are relatable

[ckneal]

So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre—like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next. 

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 3

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki battles with new thoughts and feelings as time goes on. While trying to convince himself to leave, he does his best to stop his growing connection to you and Matt. Chapter Warnings: some angst, but also fluff A/N: Third chapter done! For anyone wondering about James, there’s some more information on him in this chapter. And for anyone who saw that other post, this isn’t the super long chapter yet, sorry! Updates every Friday. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

One week later, Loki was ready to leave. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d done his best to keep his distance, and yet he kept getting roped into conversations with you. Surely, though, that was wholly due to your persistence and in no part because he was drawn to you. And this family breakfast he was at yet again? Simply because he was addicted to pancakes. It had nothing to do with you, or your family, or your kind eyes. Okay, maybe it had the tiniest bit to do with your kind eyes. The way you looked at him was like nothing he’d ever known before. Frigga had always done it with a gentle love, but it was always reserved and hidden behind a queenly mask. With you, he could see every thought that passed through your mind reflected in your eyes. He shouldn’t have enjoyed being seen as a bird with a broken wing, but the care you gave him was something he quite liked.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him in the side as the rest of the table laughed at something. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just lost in thought I suppose.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mama curtly interjected, “but whispering at the table ain’t polite.”

Ah, now if Loki was looking for a reason to leave, he could certainly find one in Mama. Though you’d been the one to start the hushed conversation, she was looking pointedly at Loki as if he was the instigator. Then again, she acted like every bad thing that happened since his arrival was his fault, even things he had no control over. Maybe spiting her by staying was reason enough for his delayed departure.

“Sorry,” you said before he could deliver a withering insult. “It’s my fault.”

Mama just made a little humming noise in reply that obviously showed she neither blamed you nor appreciated you taking the fall. In the time that Loki had been at your farm, she either avoided him like the plague or dealt thinly veiled insults his way. It was grating on his nerves, but there wasn’t much he could do bar revealing himself as an all-powerful god. Or leaving. That was always an option, he reminded himself.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Papa started, ignoring the tension like always, “I’ve misplaced that dang camera again. I’ll find it again soon though, don’t you worry.”

Little did he know, that camera’s disappearing act was entirely due to Loki’s magic. He’d hidden it around the house a number of times, never anywhere too outrageous as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps this time he’d just keep it in a dimensional pocket. Or let Taffy knock it over. Maybe if it was broken, you’d give up on the missing person ad idea. He’d worried that you would just use your phone cameras instead, but Papa was convinced that the quality would not be good enough.

“It is quite alright, sir. Your hospitality is more than enough. In fact, I really ought to be on my way soon,” he finished, throwing a glance at you to gauge your reaction, feeling an odd spark of happiness when you sank down in your seat.

“No!” Matt cried. “I don’t want you to.”

He crossed his arms as if that solved everything. It did, however, soften Loki a little. As it turns out, he was very fond of the little guy. On Asgard he’d never had much time to spend with children, but it seemed like he had inherited his mother’s natural ability to be good with them. Inherited is the wrong word, actually, he bitterly thought to himself. She’s not your real mother, after all.

“Matt, if he wants to leave, we really should let him,” Mama scolded, with an almost hopeful expression.

“Actually, I do not see why I shouldn’t stay a bit longer,” Loki said, flashing a false grin at the woman. “There really is no rush, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “No rush.”

“Well, Loki, since Matt has taken to you so well, maybe you’d like to watch him this afternoon?” Ana asked, pretending she didn’t hear Mama’s latest remark.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded, surprised by the sincerity of that statement.

The family had still been avoiding giving Loki strenuous tasks, believing that he was just incredibly good at hiding his ailments. To keep up appearances, he pretended to have a particularly bad ache or pain every once in a while. Whenever he did, you’d instantly appear at his side and usher him to a seat. He’d try to get up, but you would tell him to stay put in your best stern tone, which he found rather adorable, though he’d never admit it. Then you’d fetch him a glass of water and watch over him for the next hour, or until you decided he was well enough to get up again.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to start the day and everyone helped clear the table. Your family had made the process as efficient as possible. Mama and John would bring the dishes to Papa in the kitchen, who would hand them to you to put in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. Ana and Matt would put away all the leftovers and toppings from whatever had just been on the menu. Loki helped out where he could, but most days everyone besides Mama insisted he should take it easy, that he could help when he was fully healed. It was odd, he realized, that you were all planning on him being around that long. He felt that familiar, nagging, guilty feeling he’d been getting ever since he arrived. He was not a fan.

By the time Ana and John were ready to leave, Loki had already collected the eggs, the only daily chore he was given, and was ready to watch Matt. It was only as the boy was hugging his parents goodbye that Loki realized he wasn’t really sure what to do with the child for the next few hours. He was thankful that you seemed like you were planning on sticking around, too. It did make sense, he supposed, that they hadn’t completely trusted the boy with a near stranger.

“Aren’t you healthy, mommy?” Matt asked, clinging to Ana’s leg as she tried to get away. “Why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Because you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon,” Ana explained in a sweet tone as she gently pried her son away. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the baby is healthy.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not yet realized that Ana was pregnant. She must not have been very far along because she wasn’t showing much yet. Though, now that he knew to look, the god could see a small baby bump. Based on Matt’s reaction, he was already aware that he’d have a sibling soon, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of everything that went along with that.

“Will you be back soon?” Matt questioned, finally giving up his efforts to keep his parents where they were.

“In the blink of an eye, small fry,” John said, placing a kiss on his head.

That seemed to satisfy Matt, who wandered over to Loki and put his arms up, clearly looking to be picked up. He hesitated for a second before scooping up the boy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping him, in fact he was sure he wouldn’t, but he’d never held a child before. Up until a few days ago, he wasn’t sure he even had the slightest inkling how to be nurturing. And then there was the whole problem of Matt becoming too attached. Not to mention the way you looked at him when he did held him. That soft gaze was a problem for sure.

“Alright,” you said once Ana and John were gone. “What do you want to do, buddy?”

“Hide and seek!” he shouted. Then he put his small, chubby hands on Loki’s cheeks and used his most serious tone. “You’ll never find me. I have the best hidey spots.”

Loki let out a nervous chuckle. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to play this game. When he and Thor were kids, they played run and attack, but he felt like this was probably not very comparable. Midgard was a very different place, after all.

“Just count to sixty and then come look for us. We’ll stay in the house,” you informed Loki as he passed Matt off to you. “Oh, and just shout out when you’re starting to look.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning around to face the wall.

It was odd, he thought, that he seemed to have said thank you more in the past week than he had in the last century of his existence. He’d never meant to let himself get so bitter, but here he was stewing in that awful feeling. When the flash of anger receded, the God of Mischief realized he was face to face with a framed family tree. Highest up were pictures of couples he could only assume were your grandparents. Next line down was Mama, Papa, and their siblings. You and Ana were in the next row, and it struck him just how much you and your sister looked alike. Matt and John were there too, but the person that most captured his attention was your brother. The middle child, he guessed, since the picture was in between those of you and Ana. He gently ran his fingers over the looping gold cursive of James’s name. Loki loved a good mystery, but he needed clues and evidence to solve one. He knew next to nothing about the guy, other than that he’d been wearing his clothes for the past seven days.  

“I am starting to look now,” Loki awkwardly shouted, feeling self-conscious about seeming like he was talking to no one.

He thought he heard a small snort coming from one of the upper levels at his gawky declaration, so he headed up first. It felt odd to go rifling through things, so he mainly tried just to peer under furniture, though he did open a closet once or twice. He huffed and considered if he should venture into any of your rooms. If you weren’t there, though, he’d feel like he was intruding on something private and sacred. Hesitating with a hand hovering over the doorknob to your room, he noticed the attic hatch out of the corner of his eye. Standing still, he could hear a very subtle shuffling noise coming from above him, so either you were there, or you’d better call pest control.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Matt started giggling, but Loki pretended he couldn’t hear. He loudly walked in between the boxes littering the floor, every once in a while dramatically peering around an old piece of furniture. It only made the laughs louder.

“Now where could they be?” he sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe, they’re here!”

Then he jumped around the couch you were hiding behind and started tickling Matt. The boy squealed in delight and squirmed away. When Loki looked at you, he saw something shocking on your face. Admiration. It was something he’d longed for from so many people in his life, and here you were giving it so freely to him. He moved his gaze elsewhere before his mind could wander any further.

“What’s all the ruckus up here?” Mama asked, her head appearing from the door. After spotting Loki, her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“We were just playing hide and seek, Mama. Don’t worry,” you said.

“Indeed. I must say, it is much fun,” Loki added, though more to annoy her than ease her mind.

“I’m sure,” she replied before taking Matt by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You shot Loki an apologetic glance as you headed out after her. Once Matt’s snack was finished, Loki partook in some coloring. He was oddly pleased to know the little boy’s favorite color was green, and you seemed fairly partial to it, too. Ana and John returned roughly an hour later, and Loki finished the day by doing chores around the farm. Another thing he’d learned about himself was that he really didn’t mind doing manual labor. Growing up in the Royal Palace Valaskjalf, he never had to lift a finger to help cook or clean or do anything much besides training and lessons, really. Now he found himself almost eager to get into the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Papa or help out in the fields, the latter of which definitely had nothing to do with showing off for you.

He’d been on his way to the kitchen that evening sometime after dinner, his infamous sweet tooth bugging him again, when he heard Mama’s hushed voice.

“I’m telling you Earl, something about that boy just don’t sit right with me.”

“Come on, honey. He can’t even remember nothing. It’s our duty to help him out,” Loki heard Papa reply as he hid just outside the door.

“He may say he can’t remember, but I ain’t buying it. We should get him out soon as possible.”

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but there was nothing to stop him from feeling the sting of those words. He really should just leave; it had been his plan after all. As if they had a will of their own, Loki’s feet carried him away from the conversation, out the door, and off the porch. He never should have taken advantage of your family’s generosity. He regretted thinking about you, though, because it made his steps falter a bit. And then there was sweet little Matt. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but Loki actually enjoyed himself today. He couldn’t recall the last day he could say that about.

“I hope you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

The trickster god whirled around at the sound of your voice. He’d been too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice you leaning on one of the porch’s posts.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I just needed some fresh air is all.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from your land. He tried not to pay attention to the feeling of your hand in his. In fact, he tried to block it out altogether, but to no avail. Eventually, you reached a peaceful creek and picked up a rock to skip.

“If I was going to leave,” he began after a few minutes of contemplative silence, “I really would be fine. I appreciate all that you and your family have done, truly, but perhaps it’s best if I go.”

“Look, I know you’re pretty much all healed up, but you still don’t remember anything. I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world like that.”

“I suppose that is fair. Your mother certainly does not agree with your assessment, though.”

You sighed. “If Mama’s the reason you feel you should go, please just ignore her. She means well and all, but... Well, let’s just say she has her reasons for acting this way,”

Loki said nothing but raised his eyebrows at you. One part of him felt bad to press you for more information, even if it was done without words. The much larger part of himself, however, was entirely too curious to not know.

“Okay, so remember when I told you about my brother?”

Loki nodded eagerly, ready to get some answers about what exactly had happened there.

“Well, he was... He was killed in an accident with a drunk driver a couple years ago,” you recounted, tearing up a little bit. “Mama had trust issues even before, but they’re much worse now.”

“I am so sorry, darling,” Loki said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, but not daring to go any further than that.

He felt bad for your loss, but right now there were major alarm bells going off in his head. He’d just called you darling. It wan’t even something he’d thought about doing, it just happened. That, coupled with the fact he cared how you were feeling, had him panicking. His plan to leave after a week was already out the window, but leaving at all was becoming harder to fathom by the day.

“It’s ok,” you replied, wiping a few errant tears off your cheeks. “It was a little while ago. I’m alright now. Really.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment as he awkwardly pat your shoulder, not really certain of the correct way to comfort someone. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I think I had a brother!” he shouted, giving in to his desire to confide in you, but his web of lies making it impossible to tell the whole truth.

“We have to put that ad in the paper then. So he can find you.”

Little did you know how awful that situation would be for everyone involved. Still, it meant a lot that you cared, especially when you’d just been saddened at the memory of your own brother.

“Maybe, but I do not seem to think we had a very good relationship.”

“All the more reason then. You never know how long you have, so you should try to make amends.”

“Perhaps.”

You lapsed into silence again, not really sure where to go from there. By now, the sun had been down for a while and a chill was settling in the air. Loki noticed you shiver and shrugged off his hoodie.

“Here,” he embarrassedly mumbled, holding it out to you.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you refused. “You’ll be cold then.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, “I will be perfectly fine.”

You reluctantly agreed and pulled it on. Though it had only been in his possession for a short time, his scent had already claimed the soft fabric. He acted like his attention was averted elsewhere, but was actually watching you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t notice his gaze on you as you took a gentle sniff, trying to take as much of it in as possible. Sandalwood, leather and something otherworldly that you just couldn’t name, other than to call it heaven. He turned his head ever so slightly and you started sheepishly picking at your nails, hoping he hadn’t caught you. He expected to be appalled by the notion, but just found himself confused. Why would you enjoy something that was so distinctly him? Then he remembered you didn’t know the truth. That’s why he had to get out as soon as possible before he, or anyone else, got hurt.

“We should probably head back before it gets too late,” you said after a bit.

“I agree,” was all he replied.

As you walked away from the creek, he tried to leave the new feelings bubbling in him by the water, but they followed him all the way back to the house, and into his dreams that night.

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Nothing to Fear

Summary: Lake County, Colorado 2011

Dr. Catarina Crane arrives at Mount Massive asylum to check on a patient who happened to be working there. She’s offered a job instead.

(Warnings: more uncomfortable flirting, minor stalking, gore, illegal experimentation)

CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2

Screams filled her ears and echoed in the halls. It was her work at its finest, though her victims probably wouldn’t agree. She was sure their cells had morphed into some hellish realm, with their worst fears surrounding them. One was screaming about spiders, which was amusing to Dr. Crane, and the other muttered about water. She was more intrigued by the water inmate.

He was huddled on his bed, looking down at the floor with wide, glassy eyes. He was sobbing, begging for help. She wondered how long it would take for him to realize the water wasn’t real. Another doctor was standing next to her, she was shorter than her, with long blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was young, and she just finished her residency at another nearby asylum. She was sweet, but Dr. Crane suspected that she wouldn’t last another few weeks. It almost felt like she didn’t know what she was getting into when she accepted the job.

Her name was Lillian Dawes, and she wouldn’t last longer than a year.

“Is that normal?” She asked, placing her hand on the glass and stepping closer. Dr. Crane grabbed her shoulder and gently pulled her away.

“I wouldn’t get too close, Dr. Dawes. I’ve seen people break through observation glass like it was nothing. Fear is such an interesting thing, but the mind can only take so much. Let’s see how long this’ll go on for.” Dr. Crane stated, watching intently as the man stood on his bed and reached for the ceiling. He was definitely panicking now, and he was calling for help.

“Shouldn’t we send someone in?” Lillian asked, clearly distrubed by the scene in front of her. Dr. Crane shook her head.

“No, check on the other subject.” She nodded and walked toward the other observation cell. The scene before her, however, was gruesome. Blood covered the walls of the cell as well as the floor. The man had clawed the skin off of his arms, and now he was laying on the floor unconscious. Lillian gasped and jumped away from the glass, shocked by the scene before her. Dr. Crane practically rushed over, a little too excited about the situation. She peered into the room with a sickening smile before looking back at Lillian.

“Get security. Tell them to take this man to the medical center immediately,” she turned back around as Lillian ran past her, “if he isn’t dead already, that is.” She finished, watching the man lay there motionless. Sometimes, the toxin was so potent the person dies, but she wanted a strong reaction without the death, and Murkoff wanted the same. They believe that her fear toxin would help in Project Walrider, but she needed strong doses to keep the subjects in a terrified state for hours on end. Most of the time - with the stronger doses - people only lasted five minutes. At this rate, she’d go through the whole damn asylum and not even be able to perfect the toxin.

She moved back to the water patient and, just as she predicted, his heart gave out. The stress of the constant terror (and the brain believing he was drowning) put enough strain on him to kill him. Depending on the fear, they either die from self mutilation, or they have a heart attack. She suspected the man didn’t realize it was his heart that gave out, and she had a feeling his last moments were far from pleasant. He was lying face up on the floor, with wide, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. She was surprised he didn’t pass out from holding his breath, but she figured his heart stopped before he suffocated.

She quickly wrote down the results of the tests, and felt disappointed. She knew she could do better than that. Fear toxin that lasted hours normally created hallucinations that came and went in waves, what she needed was something strong enough to create a panic even when the hallucinations died down. They needed to be aware of their surroundings when they weren’t hallucinating, but afraid of what would come next.

Dr. Crane decided to take a break and return to her office to try to figure out where to go from there. She ignored the guards rushing into the cell of the mutilated man, and ignored Lillian as she asked a slew of questions. All she wanted to do was lock herself in her office and think for the rest of the day; do a little problem solving.

She rushed through halls full of screaming patients, not bothering to stop on her way to her office.

Yet, when she got there, a familiar face was waiting by her door. She’d worked there for weeks without running into him again. Bright colors seemed to be his thing, though this time he wore a blue shirt and a white sweater over it. Instead of khakis, he wore black dress pants, and black shoes that shined under the lights of the hallway. Dr. Crane stopped in her tracks and gritted her teeth.

“What are you doing here? You’re not in this division.” She asked, daring to step a little bit closer. He smiled widely, but there was something off about it. It looked like a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and that was just one of the many things about him that was off-putting to her.

“Relax, doc, I was just coming to congratulate you on the job!” Rick explained in his usual cheerful tone. Dr. Crane couldn’t help but glare at him. He was in her space now, even if he wasn’t exactly in her office. She wanted him to go away, and when she accepted the job nearly a month ago she figured the facility was big enough so she wouldn’t see him again, but she didn’t account for him seeking her out. The fact he did seek her out sent shivers up her spine.

She hadn’t felt fear in a long time, but when she was around Rick Trager, she was terrified.

“Thank you,” she responded, “I’d like to get into my office now.” Rick nodded and stepped aside, letting her step into her office. She didn’t stop to close the door properly, instead she let the force of the door shut it for her. However, the door didn’t slam shut like she thought it would. She let her shoulders drop and let out a small sigh of irritation. He was still there.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me, Mr. Trager? After all, I assumed you worked here and had actual stuff to do rather than wait outside my door.” She asked, not even attempting to hide her disdain. He let out an airy chuckle and took a step toward her. He towered over her, despite the fact that she was rather tall herself, and while he was jovial in tone there was almost something sinister about his action. It felt like he was trying to intimidate her for whatever reason. She wanted to act like she wasn’t afraid, but too many things about him didn’t add up. He scared her more than anything.

She took a step back before turning around and sitting at her desk. She hoped she could get her act together and seem calm when she was sitting down and going over various medical records. He didn’t follow her - not right away, at least. He watched her walk behind her desk and sit down, much like how a predator would watch its prey. He would learn though, sooner or later, that Catarina Crane was not some small, meek creature to be devoured. She was much more than that.

She wasn’t completely aware of how he had her picked out from the moment he walked out of his office to see her asking his assistant a question. Murkoff might’ve known about her before him, but he was going to take what he wanted from her eventually.

“So, Cat, I was wondering,” he began, leaning over her desk and peering at the documents in her hand briefly.

“It’s Dr. Crane.” She interjected, speaking through gritted teeth this time. He ignored her obvious annoyance.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner sometime this weekend?” He flashed her another smile, but she could only stare at him blankly. In spite of all the signals she gave off that she wasn’t interested, he still pushed forward. This time she was cornered in her office, but she wasn’t afraid - not this time. She was frustrated. She was borderline angry.

“I’d rather have my fingers cut off. Let me put it this way, since you ignored my multiple signs that I wasn’t interested, no. I don’t want anything to do with you, Mr. Trager. Please, get out of my office, I have work to do.” She looked back down at the documents in her hand, refusing to spare him even another glance. He scared her, yes, but she was repulsed by him even more. It wasn’t like he was particularly unattractive, but his persistence and refusal to read the signs she put off made him unattractive. He couldn’t seem to grasp that she was uninterested, and that was what frustrated her, and this was only their second meeting.

She didn’t see the dark look that came over his features at her rejection. He knew she would be tough to get, but he wouldn’t give up. He had Blaire to cover his ass, or at least he hoped Blaire would cover for him. He half scoffed, a smirk immediately made its way to his lips.

“Damn, Cat, I didn’t think you could be that harsh.” He stated, this time he stood straight. His hands were buried in his pockets, and despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were trained on her. She didn’t bother correcting him this time though.

“Perhaps you were more incompetant than I thought.” She muttered, though she didn’t think he could hear her. He did, and it struck a nerve. He turned around and all but stormed out. He stopped at the door, feeling the need to have the last word.

“See ya around, Cat.” He said, but Catarina thought nothing of it. He left without another word spoken between the two of them, though she could have sworn she heard him greet someone happily outside of her office; a faint ‘hey buddy’ that slightly concerned her. She wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t spread nasty rumors about her - not that she cared if he did - but after their conversation she could see him doing it.

Little did she know, he had bigger things to worry about than her.

Shortly after that uncomfortable exchange, Catarina decided to actually go to lunch. She locked up her office, but deep down she wished she could double up on security to keep creeps like Trager out. She really didn’t feel like getting ambushed again, though she doubted he’d do it twice in one day.

The walk to the cafeteria was almost as tense as the walk past her father’s office when she was younger. He always had frightening masks and other scary things hanging in his work space, and chances were he would try to get her to understand why she feared those things. He’d try to make her feel better about it all, but there was always one mask that terrified her, and that terror never faded. It was a burlap mask with straw coming out of the top and various stitches around the mouth. It had blank button eyes that stared down at her, much like the blank eyes that would stare up at her in her career. It was a scarecrow mask, and nothing sent shivers down her spine more than scarecrows. She was lucky to grow up in the city, the same couldn’t be said for her father. It was an interesting case, the fact that they were both afraid of scarecrows, but it was enough to get her interested in fear and phobias, like her father before her.

The line in the cafeteria wasn’t too long, with only a few members of staff waiting on line to order something. The man in the front of the line was staring at the menu on the wall and placing a seemingly long order, which had Cat mentally rolling her eyes. She wondered if there was another place she could get something to eat in the building. Going to lunch off the premises wasn’t allowed, so it was eat at the cafeteria or bring something from home.

In front of Catarina was a short, plump woman with red hair. She wore a light blue dress and a string of pearls around her neck, she was dressed nice, though Cat doubted she was an executive. The woman glanced at her nervously, and it was obvious to Cat that she was getting impatient too, but she doubted this woman would speak up about it. She smiled awkwardly, letting out an airy chuckle.

“If I knew he’d be ordering for a whole circus I would’ve brought something from home.” She joked, prompting a small smile from Cat.

“Sorry, it just feels like I’ve been standing here forever.” She continued, turning completely around this time. Now that Cat could see her completely, she came to the conclusion that this woman was pregnant.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.” Cat smiled at her, and while normally she’d formally introduce herself with her title and whole name, she decided against it.

“Catarina.” She introduced, and for a moment she swore she saw something short of recognition flash in her eyes. If she had heard of Cat, she didn’t mention it to her. Instead, she went the more predictable route, recognizing her as the new doctor and welcoming her, even if she had been there for nearly a month.

The line had finally moved up, but Michelle hadn’t noticed. Cat smiled awkwardly and pointed behind the woman, who promptly turned around and moved up a little. This time the line was moving faster, with people knowing exactly what they were ordering unlike the man who held the line up. After ordering and paying for her food, Cat was going to walk to her office, but she was stopped once more by Michelle.

“Hey, just let me know if you need anything. I work down in IT, so just call that line and I’ll probably be the one to pick up.” She stated. Cat smiled and nodded, but deep down she knew she wouldn’t really go to her if she needed something. Michelle seemed nice enough, but it looked like she was hiding something just below the surface, like she wanted to reach out to her and tell her something. Cat wouldn’t pry, she wasn’t one of her patients and even then it was up to her to tell her. It was intriguing, and she couldn’t help but see it as a mystery for her to solve. Maybe one day Michelle would open up about what was bothering her, but Cat knew she couldn’t count on that. At least she knew she wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3 (though this chapter will only be posted there tomorrow)

The last thing Nie Huaisang wants is to go to Wen Chao’s weddings. The second last thing he wants is having to work together with Lan Xichen to show that their sects’ alliance is strong.

Set shortly after nhs and jzx had sex. warning for some implications of rape, and for alcohol use

In spite of the Cloud Recesses’s anti-gossip policy, the news that Wen Ruohan’s second son is getting married in less than a month spreads like wildfire among the guest disciples. Everyone has a theory about the need for such a sudden union, but Nie Huaisang thinks that Jin Zixuan’s idea is probably the right one when he whispers to him that Wen Chao probably just knocked up his fiancée so he’d get to marry her early. It’s common knowledge that he likes pretty girls a little too much, and that his father lets him get away with everything.

That could be the beginning and end of it for Nie Huaisang, but one morning he is called to Lan Qiren’s office at the same time as Lan Xichen. They don’t stay there very long, but when they exit they’re stunned enough that they linger at the door side by side, forgetting a moment that they hate each other. Of course Nie Huaisang knew this would happen sooner or later, it's the whole reason why they're engaged, isn't it? And still… 

"Have you ever been to Nightless City?" Lan Xichen asks, something not quite right in his usually placid voice. 

"Once, before my father died. Before our engagement, even."

Very soon before talks started between Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie, actually. Nie Huaisang had been a little young to grasp it at the time, but some years after he found letters about that visit. At the time, Wen Ruohan was looking for someone to marry his second son. 

All in all, Nie Huaisang has to admit Lan Xichen isn't the worst spouse he could have been thrown at. 

"I've been a few more times than that," Lan Xichen says, before allowing himself a small grimace. "I am not looking forward to going again. Wen Chao might be getting married but he is a horrid lecher, and Wen Xu is… last time I saw him was at a Night Hunt, and he killed someone's spirit dog for barking too loud." 

That's a story Nie Huaisang has heard as well. It's not, and by far, the worst rumour going about Wen Xu. And that's without getting into what is said about Wen Ruohan himself. 

"Your uncle is right," Nie Huaisang sighs. "We'll have to show that the alliance between our sects is going strong. If the Wens think there's a weakness…" 

"That means we'll have to act like we get along," Lan Xichen points out. "Can you even do that?" 

"I did a good job of that until I got tired of pretending," Nie Huaisang snaps. "But you… won't it be hard to pretend you don't despise me?" 

Lan Xichen gives him a long look, his expression unreadable.

"I don't despise you," he says at last, and it almost sounds believable. It will have to do. "Do you have anything appropriate to wear? I don't suppose you brought anything here for this sort of occasion. If you want, I can try to…" 

"Nie Mingjue will be there too, he’ll bring what's necessary," Nie Huaisang cuts him. “Thank you for trying to help,” he adds when he remembers that they’ll need to work together, at least for a bit. Might as well get started already. “But it really wouldn’t do if I showed up in Lan robes anyway.”

“I suppose it’s not appropriate when we aren’t married yet,” Lan Xichen concedes. “Very well. I have a lot to do, I will see you later.”

Nie Huaisang watches him go, a little upset about… everything really. The last thing he wants is to go to a wedding of any sort, least of all a Wen wedding. He also doesn’t want to work with Lan Xichen, and this is an unpleasant reminder of things to come. Lan Xichen will turn twenty in less than two years, meaning their own wedding will follow closely, and they’ve both shown through their actions and words that it won’t be a happy one.

But there’s no choice, not for them.

And at least, Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng too will be there, as well as Nie Mingjue, so he’ll suffer in good company.

-

If it is important to show a united front before Qishan Wen, it is also important not to seem too united either. To avoid this, both Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan separately pick up their sons to head toward Nightless City, while Nie Huaisang travels with Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren until they are joined by Nie Mingjue and go the rest of the way all together. The evening of their arrival in Nightless City, when they are alone in their room, Nie Mingjue reminds his brother that he is in enemy territory and must watch himself.

“Be smart,” he orders. “But don’t let it show too much either. At this point, they’re looking for any excuse to attack other sects.”

Nie Huaisang nods, thinking about that Waterborne Abyss they fought. Wei Wuxian had said it wasn’t normal for it to be there, and Qishan Wen territory is up the river from Caiyi and…

“There’s really going to be a war, uh?” Nie Huaisang realises. “It can’t be avoided?”

“They’re preparing for it. I think… in five years. Ten at most. I’m trying to recruit more people into the sect,” Nie Mingjue admits. “I’ve lowered the criteria, and I’m taking even adults if they show enough promise. We’re going to need all the people we can get.”

Five years is a frighteningly short time. Nie Huaisang will be married to Lan Xichen by then, so at least Nie Mingjue is sure he’ll have another sect to count on. Maybe he’ll have found a wife too. Jiang Yanli is an option again, and Nie Huaisang gets along with her brothers, while Yunmeng Jiang is always handy in a fight. It’s an option worth mentioning to Jiang Cheng, so he can maybe tell his parents. Anything to make sure that Nie Mingjue doesn’t end up alone against the man who killed their father.

Some of his worries must show on Nie Huaisang’s face. Without warning, Nie Mingjue grabs him by the collar and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Don’t worry about that. When war comes we’ll be prepared. All you have to think about is how to make it look like you and Xichen are the best friends in the world so the Wens don’t start thinking there’s a weakness in our alliance. Just make an effort until that stupid wedding is over, alright?”

“I will, but he’d better do the same!”

“You’re such a brat,” Nie Mingjue grumbles fondly. “Just behave yourself. I know I can count on you.”

-

In Nie Huaisang’s experience, weddings are boring affairs and this one is no different. There are so many guests that he can’t even see the arrival of the bride, which is a shame because he was mildly curious to see how Wen Chao would deal with having to pretend he needs to prove himself worthy of her. With how proud he and his brother are, that would have been quite the show.

At least, while everyone else is distracted waiting for the bride to arrive, Nie Huaisang is free to escape his brother’s watch to go chat with Jin Zixuan in a less crowded spot from which they should be able to catch a glimpse of the unfortunate girl. Before long Jiang Cheng joins them, ostensibly because he’s bored in his father’s company, but mostly because he doesn’t like to be left out. Nie Huaisang feels a little guilty that he didn’t signal him as well to go chat, but he had assumed Jiang Cheng would be too serious to want to watch and gossip on such a day.

They keep the conversation mostly light at first, complimenting one another on their outfits. Nie Huaisang gets teased a bit for not being quite as well dressed as his friends, and starts putting the blame on his brother who didn’t bring any of his better robes, and only one set of hair ornaments. They only drop that conversation when, at last, the groom and his bride walk by on their way to take their bows. It is the bride, of course, that really gets their attention. Her face is hidden by a richly decorated veil, and her dress is of such a shape that it is impossible to say if she is a thick or slender girl, and yet even like this…

“Definitely pregnant and trying to hide it,” Jin Zixuan whispers in the tone of someone who has seen it often. “Very pregnant, even. No wonder they had to hurry so much. I wonder if she tried to hide it from them?”

“But why would she?” Nie Huaisang asked, opening his fan to help hide their conversation. “You think she was scared he wouldn’t marry her?”

Jin Zixuan shrugs, but Jiang Cheng leans toward them.

“Apparently, she’s from a certain branch of Qishan Wen that doesn’t quite agree with their current ambitions,” he whispers. “They are all mostly doctors, and they’ve made objections against some of Wen Ruohan’s decisions. My father told me several members of that branch have been executed for treason in the last few years, and now it’s being led by a girl who’s only a little more than twenty. The bride is her cousin, and I’ve heard the lady Wen Qing was trying to get the engagement cancelled until recently.”

“You think Wen Chao got her pregnant to make sure the wedding would have to happen?” Nie Huaisang gasps.

“You need healers for a war,” Jin Zixuan remarks in a low voice, his face hardening. “And everyone says Wen Chao would do anything to get his father’s approval… though from what I’ve heard, it mustn’t have been too hard for him to harass a helpless girl.”

“Girls really have it rough with engagements,” Nie Huaisang mutters, feeling a twinge of pity for the bride. “Maybe I should stop complaining about mine so much.”

“I’ll buy you a new fan if you can last a day without saying anything against Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng retorts, his voice regaining a more normal volume.

“I’ll owe you a favour if you make that a week,” Jin Zixuan adds.

Nie Huaisang closes his fan and glares at both of them.

“I don’t speak that much about him!”

“Tell yourself that,” Jin Zixuan says, patting his shoulder.

The teasing and the casual touch have Nie Huaisang gaping in mock horror. He’s glad that Jin Zixuan isn’t so formal with him since that afternoon where they were so very bored that they fooled around, but to have that familiarity turned against him is absolutely unfair.

Besides, Nie Huaisang really doesn’t speak that much about Lan Xichen. He has better things to do with his time, and…

“Speaking of the devil,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Guess who is coming this way?”

Nie Huaisang immediately turns around to look, readying himself to be annoyed that what little fun he can expect today is already coming to an end.

Instead he finds himself stunned at the sight of Lan Xichen walking toward them, his hair done with more care than usual and decorated with silver, wearing pale blue robes that give him a youthful air he normally doesn’t get from his boring white Gusu Lan uniform. Most of the time Nie Huaisang is too busy hating him to see it, but at the moment it is hard to ignore that Lan Xichen is, and by far, the most handsome young master in their generation.

“I’m glad he’s engaged to you already,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Imagine trying to find someone to marry if he were still free!”

“You can have him if you like,” Nie Huaisang retorts between clenched teeth, before forcing himself to smile at Lan Xichen when he reaches them. “Lan gongzi, were you looking for us perhaps?”

“Yes. I’ve been sent to warn you that the young couple has taken the three bows and the feast will soon begin. It would be best to find out quickly where we are to sit, to avoid bringing undue attention on ourselves by being late.”

“If Lan gongzi leads the way, we will follow,” Jiang Cheng replies with a short bow, which gets him a mocking eyeroll from Nie Huaisang the instant Lan Xichen turns away. Even Jin Zixuan seems amused by how polite Jiang Cheng can be when he bothers.

-

The feast is conducted in a large courtyard inside the palace. Though it is a large space, there are so many guests that it still feels crowded, which made Nie Huaisang wonder if it is done on purpose, especially since Wen Ruohan’s family gets a large space to itself on a raised platform, so they can tower over the rest of them in great comfort.

Much to their dismay, Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng find that the seating arrangements have them right next to each other. They make great efforts not to complain about it, but Nie Huaisang knows when they’re all back to Gusu, he’s going to hear about that at length from both of them. It’s fine by him, because he’ll have a few complaints of his own. Not only is he seated far from his friends, he’s also going to spend the feast with Lan Xichen at his side, and not too far from where the Wen Juniors are installed. It promises to be a very unpleasant day.

“I can’t imagine how this could be worse,” Nie Huaisang mutters under his breath as they sit down.

“I can,” Lan Xichen replies just as quietly. “Jin Zixun could be here.”

Nie Huaisang snorts, and shivers theatrically.

“Lan gongzi, don’t speak such horror. I don’t think I could survive something so horrible.”

“Hm. This time, I would protect you,” Lan Xichen calmly replies. “In fact I will, if the need arises.”

Taken aback, Nie Huaisang doesn’t say anything. There isn't anybody paying attention to them at the moment, but if Lan Xichen wants to play up the comedy already, why not. It’s better to get in character right away so they’re not taken by surprise when the time comes.

Food has just been served when problems find them. If Wen Chao has retired with his bride after the usual traditions, Wen Xu is still there, going from guest to guest with a smile that says he’s looking for trouble. Seeing him coming their way, Lan Xichen tenses and leans toward Nie Huaisang.

“They’re probably going to try to make me drink,” he whispers. “People always do when there are Gusu Lan cultivators at a feast, and I think Wen Xu personally dislikes me. Can you help me avoid it?”

“If you try to avoid it, it’ll just make it worse. Isn’t it tolerated to drink at celebrations?”

Lan Xichen nods with uncertainty, before glancing toward Wen Xu who seems to have spotted them.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“It’s not just about the rules,” Lan Xichen confesses in a low voice, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “I react badly to alcohol. Very badly. It might create problems if I have any, more so than if I appear stubborn in refusing it.”

It sounds like just an excuse to stick to his precious rules, because nobody can be so weak to alcohol that even just one cup would be bad. But Lan Xichen does look sincerely nervous at the prospect, and it’s unnerving to see him like that.

“I’ll do my best,” Nie Huaisang promises.

Lan Xichen throws him a grateful smile and sits upright once more, just as Wen Xu and a group of Qishan Wen cultivators reach them.

“I hope we are not interrupting you lovebirds?” he asks, looming over them.

“We were not talking of anything important,” Lan Xichen replied politely. “Wen gongzi, it is a pleasure to see you. I hope you are well?”

“As well as a man can be, seeing his little brother marry before him. Not that I envy Wen Chao, his bride looks like a sow. A feeling you can relate to, I’m sure.”

Nie Huaisang bites his tongue at the insult but manages to pretend he doesn’t understand it. Next to him, Lan Xichen blinks innocently.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t you?” Wen Xu remarks with a grin. “And here I had heard Lan gongzi was so smart.”

“At least Wen Chao’s wife is a cultivator,” someone says behind him. “I’ve heard Lan gongzi’s fiancé doesn’t even have a golden core.”

Nie Huaisang’s hands clench on his knees and he struggles to keep smiling. He knew his patience would be tested, and he knows that the Wens aren’t even pretending to respect other sects anymore, but saying something like that so publicly is just…

“I am sorry to hear such rumours spread,” Lan Xichen calmly replies. “Certain people have taken a dislike to Nie gongzi, and amuse themselves with spreading falsehood regarding his person, which I find very regretful. If you can tell me who shared those lies with you, we are trying to find the source so that we might put an end to it.”

“It’s just common knowledge,” Wen Xu retorts. “Didn’t Nie gongzi fail to pass his exams in Gusu last year? Either he must be a very pitiful cultivator, or your uncle isn’t as excellent a teacher as he claims to be. Or both, perhaps? I hear this year too he had such problems with a student that he simply gave up and sent him home.”

“What school can boast of a perfect success rate?” Lan Xichen gently counters. “If every student always passed, it would be truly miraculous. External circumstances can make it hard for some to focus on their studies, and this is what happened to Nie gongzi. As for the other student you mentioned, his guardian decided that it was preferable for him to return home for the time being, and my uncle could not have stopped him.”

Wen Xu smirks. “Lan gongzi, Lan gongzi… you always have the perfect answer to everything, don’t you? It makes it very frustrating to hold a conversation with you. Maybe I’ll try chatting with Nie gongzi instead. I wonder if he has anything interesting to say?”

Smiling as well as he can , Nie Huaisang brings his hands before him and bows slightly.

“If Wen gongzi wishes it, I will do my best to be worthy of the honour.”

Wen Xu looks him over and shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be, so I think I won’t bother after all. In fact, I think I’ll go check our other guests now. Ah but first… a toast perhaps? This is an auspicious occasion after all.”

Nie Huaisang glances at Lan Xichen who, in spite of having his fears confirmed, looks perfectly calm even as Wen Xu pours alcohol for all three of them. He does, however, hesitate a brief instant to take the cup offered to him, his hand trembling slightly when he finally does so.

“Wen gongzi, I understand you cannot know,” Nie Huaisang says as innocently as he can, stealing the cup from his fiancé’s hand, “but Gusu Lan rules are against alcohol. Let me pour some new tea for Lan gongzi so he may still toast with us to your brother’s good fortune.”

He does just that, placing a fresh cup of tea in Lan Xichen’s hand to replace the wine he stole. Wen Xu glares at both of them.

“Is it really a toast if it is with tea?” he mocks.

Nie Huaisang smiles. “Wen gongzi, I’m sure the heavens will understand that Lan gongzi cannot break his sect’s rules. Adherence to them is key to their cultivation method, as I understand. Please, do spare Lan gongzi. If it is really essential that three cups of wine be drunk, then I will also take his. As we are to be married, it is only normal for me to bear any burden he cannot take onto himself.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Wen Xu retorts. “Fine, Lan gongzi may toast with tea, if he must. To the newlyweds, may they know happiness and prosperity!”

They all cheer and drink. Nie Huaisang allows himself to relax a little, convinced that Wen Xu will leave them alone now, since they’re not letting themselves be bullied by him. When the Wens still linger after the toast, he realises that victory won’t be so easy.

“Lan gongzi, if you won’t drink, then at least try the dishes,” Wen Xu suggests, looking pointedly at Lan Xichen’s bowl. “Or does your sect forbid that as well?”

“On the contrary, new experiences are encouraged,” Lan Xichen replies, still quite calm, “and I am not well acquainted with Nightless City’s cuisine. Wen gongzi, do you recommend anything in particular?”

“I think this one would please Lan gongzi,” Wen Xu says, pushing a dish toward Lan Xichen.

Nie Huaisang hardly dares breathe as he watches Lan Xichen grab a piece of vegetable from the dish and put it in his mouth without the slightest hesitation.

“Wen gongzi, this is very good indeed,” Lan Xichen agrees.

“Of course it is. Lan gongzi, you should try that one as well.”

A second dish is pushed his way. Just like the first, Lan Xichen doesn’t hesitate to eat some, but the instant the food touches his tongue, Nie Huaisang knows something is different. Lan Xichen’s eyes get watery and he drops his chopstick, hurriedly reaching for his tea while the Wens laugh around him. Their hilarity doubles when Lan Xichen’s eyes widen in shock and he stares down at his nearly empty cup.

“Is the tea not to your liking?” Wen Xu taunts him. “I thought it looked a little bland so I asked my friend to improve it a little. I hope Lan gongzi doesn’t mind.”

On cue, a boy at his side shows off a small jar which he shakes mockingly, making their whole group laugh. For a second, Nie Huaisang wants to jump to his feet and punch Wen Xu’s teeth off, politics be damned. The only reason he doesn’t is because next to him, Lan Xichen laughs softly.

“You certainly got me,” he says, his smile as polite as ever. “Congratulations, that is the smartest way I’ve seen one of us be tricked into drinking. I’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

Seeing him apparently amused by their prank, the Wens immediately stop finding it funny. They tease him a little more, but Lan Xichen takes it all with good humour. They quickly tire of it and Wen Xu goes looking for another victim. As soon as they’re gone, Lan Xichen urgently grasps Nie Huaisang’s sleeve.

“Nie gongzi, help me get away please,” he whispers. “I don’t feel good at all.”

It was just a few sips, mixed with tea, but Lan Xichen seems so concerned that Nie Huaisang doesn’t question it.

“Just wait for me a second,” he demands. “I’ll be back.”

He rises from his seat and scutters over a little further in the courtyard where Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are trying to not have an argument.

“Jiang-xiong, Jin-xiong, can I ask a favour?” Nie Huaisang chirps. His cheerfulness must sound a little too forced, because they both throw him a concerned look. He smiles a little wider, and laughs softly. “Ah, it’s a small one I swear! Could one of you warn Lan Qiren that his nephew is feeling a little unwell? I’m taking him somewhere a little quieter, but I think his uncle should know.”

He dares not say more, dares not ask for Lan Qiren to come check on them, but hopefully the fact that Lan Xichen needs to remove himself from the feast will be enough to signal that something is wrong. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan promise to go pass the message and though they start arguing about who ought to do it, Nie Huaisang trusts them to get it done. He returns to Lan Xichen’s side and grabs the hem of his sleeve to pull him toward the exit.

Getting there is a harder task than planned. Lan Xichen, always so steady and elegant, starts wobbling a little as they walk. Nie Huaisang can’t help thinking he’d be enjoying this a lot if only they weren’t surrounded by enemies. If anyone realises that Lan Xichen is inebriated, if they try to take advantage of it to create trouble…

It seems natural to take Lan Xichen’s hand. It’s the most efficient way to guide him and help him stay balanced. And if anyone sees… well, they’re engaged, so it’s no big scandal. It’s just the most practical way to deal with the situation.

Lan Xichen appears to be of another mind. The moment Nie Huaisang takes his hand, he stops walking and stares down in shock. Nie Huaisang braces himself for an unpleasant comment that never comes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Lan Xichen says, interlacing their fingers and grinning at the sight.

“You really are drunk,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, pulling to get them moving again.

“I think you’re right,” Lan Xichen replies, nodding once. “Maybe it’s not bad if it makes you be this nice to me. I like when you’re nice. I like holding your hand, also. It’s so warm!”

“Lying is against the rules.”

“It is! That’s why I’m not lying. We should hold hands more often, A-Sang.”

Nie Huaisang nearly trips at hearing Lan Xichen call him like this. He would have fallen, if not for the other boy’s grip on him.

“Saved you!” Lan Xichen laughs.

He sounds absolutely delighted by that idea, making Nie Huaisang wonder just how strong the wine in that tea was. Was it even only tea, if Lan Xichen is so out of it? If the Wens have a whole clan of healers in their midst, who knows what sort of drugs they might have on hand.

By the time he’s brought Lan Xichen out of the courtyard and into a more peaceful area, Nie Huaisang is genuinely concerned for the other boy. It’s just not normal for Lan Xichen to be smiling so much. Neither is the way he grins every time he remembers they’re holding hands. He’s got to have been drugged, there’s no other explanation, and if he still remembers this in the morning, he’ll be furious at Nie Huaisang for letting him act so ridiculously.

Wanting to spare both of them a little shame, Nie Huaisang tries to get his hand back. Lan Xichen doesn’t let him.

“Let’s stay like this a little more,” he pleads. “It’s so nice. You have nice hands, A-Sang. You have nice everything. It’s so hard to be around you, because you’re so nice but so mean. Why are you so mean, A-Sang?”

“You started it,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, glancing around and hoping Lan Qiren will come soon. There’s got to be something very, very wrong with Lan Xichen if he’s saying such stupid things.

Lan Xichen gets very still.

“Oh. I did start it,” he mumbles sadly, tightening his grip on Nie Huaisang’s hand. “I’ve been mean too, right? But I’m not now. I’m trying. A-Sang, why can’t we both stop being mean and just be friends? I really want to be friends. You’re so pretty and talented, we really should be friends.”

He sounds painfully earnest. For a moment, Nie Huaisang almost forgets that it’s only the wine speaking, that Lan Xichen despises him. What’s happening is a lie, but it’s a pleasant one. For years and years, all Nie Huaisang has wanted is for Lan Xichen to be nice to him. He must still want it, because his traitorous heart is beating so hard in his chest that it nearly drowns out the sounds of the nearby party.

It would be nice if Lan Xichen liked him.

And it’d be nice too if the Wens all choked to death tonight, saving them from an otherwise unavoidable war.

Between the two, Nie Huaisang knows which one was more likely to happen.

Before Lan Xichen can babble more nonsense, Lan Qiren finally joins them, clearly concerned. His worry only increases when Nie Huaisang hurriedly explains what happened with Wen Xu.

“I think maybe the wine was drugged actually. He’s acting very unlike himself since drinking it.”

Lan Qiren grabs his nephew’s wrist, forcing him to let go of Nie Huaisang’s hand (Lan Xichen pouts) so that he can check on him.

“No, that was just wine,” Lan Qiren sighs, relieved. “He shares his mother’s weakness. Thank you for your help, Nie gongzi. You may leave, I will take care of him.”

Nie Huaisang nods, breathing a little more easily at the news that nothing dangerous was given to the other boy. It’s a little funny that anyone could be so affected by just a little wine, but Lan Qiren doesn’t seem too surprised. He is surprisingly gentle as he takes his nephew by the shoulders and starts trying to lead him away.

“You won’t punish him, right?” Nie Huaisang asks after some hesitation. “It’s not his fault. We really tried to make it so he didn’t drink anything, but somebody spiked his tea and tricked him. It’d be unfair to punish him.”

“I’m surprised you care,” Lan Qiren states dryly.

“Of course I care,” Nie Huaisang replies after checking around. They are, in fact, alone, but it’s better to be prudent and… perhaps he does care, in spite of himself.

Lan Xichen startles at the answer, and smiles brightly, trying to escape his uncle’s grasp to get back to Nie Huaisang.

“You really do?” he asks. “I’m so glad! I care about you so much, A-Sang!”

Like all the rest, it sounds unbearably genuine in a way that Lan Xichen never is. Nie Huaisang feels his face burn in embarrassment, and is forced to look away. He just cannot handle the bright, sincere way Lan Xichen is smiling at him, as if he were really happy to be near him. As if he really did want to be friends. 

Thankfully, Lan Qiren has no patience for his drunken nephew’s antics, and starts dragging Lan Xichen away before he can make more of a fool of himself. Nie Huaisang watches them go. He’s half grateful that Lan Qiren came when he did, because this was really getting too silly, but he can’t help feeling a little disappointed as well. He rather likes this version of Lan Xichen who thinks well of him, and he wouldn’t have minded a little more time with him.

[tsuki-chibi]

Marinette March Day 29: Flowers

See the whole story on AO3: Under My Umbrella 

--------

Marinette clung to her maman’s words over the next several days. Those words gave her the strength to get through giving her statement to the police, and the courage to stand at Adrien’s side during Émilie’s funeral. As it turned out, there was nothing that the doctors could do for her: the casket had acted as a respirator, laced with what had to be some magical properties. Because the instant that it was opened, whatever it had been doing failed and Émilie stopped breathing.

Her death had been both quiet and peaceful, which was really the only solace that Adrien had as his mother was finally laid to rest. When it was over, and the crowds of people were drifting away, Adrien knelt and laid a bouquet of flowers on the fresh dirt. He stayed kneeling for a moment, fingers brushing the dirt. Marinette glanced over her shoulder and saw that her parents were standing at a distance, waiting for them but giving them privacy. So she knelt too, not caring that her dress was going to get grass stains, and leaned into Adrien's side.

"I never really questioned why all of Père's stories about her never lined up," Adrien said thickly. "I should have asked more questions."

"You couldn't have known, Adrien," Marinette said. She had lost count of how many times she'd told him that, and she knew she would continue to repeat it many times over in the weeks to come. Even then, it would be a long time before it really sank in.

"That doesn't make it any easier," he said quietly, and Marinette had no answer for that. Luckily, a familiar voice spoke up.

"Adrien?"

Marinette turn to see Alya, Nino and Chloé standing right behind them. Automatically, her eyes darted to the necklace around Alya's throat, the bracelet on Nino's wrist, and the comb in Chloé's hair. It was strange to see them wearing their miraculous, but it was good too. The night after Gabriel was arrested, Ladybug had retrieved the Dragon, Rabbit, Monkey, Horse, Snake, and Butterfly miraculouses. She had conveniently forgotten to collect the Fox, Turtle and Bee.

"Hi guys," Adrien said, attempting a smile that fell flat. He stood up and promptly received hugs from Alya, Nino and Chloé, one right after the other.

"You okay?" Alya whispered to Marinette, moving over to stand beside her and linking their arms together.

"Getting there," Marinette whispered back, watching Adrien and Chloé embrace. So far as they knew, Chloé was still in the dark about their identities. But sometimes Marinette wondered if Chloé knew more than she was letting on. Chloé Bourgeois was many things, but she was not stupid. When she wasn't being a petty, spoiled brat, Chloé saw and understood a lot more than most people gave her credit for.

"Do you think you'll be coming back to school on Monday?" Nino asked Adrien.

"Probably. I don't want to get too far behind," Adrien said, and honestly even if he missed two months of school it was very unlikely that he would fall behind - Adrien was too smart for that. Yet Marinette could also appreciate where he was coming from. The urge to get back to a normal life struck at the strangest of times.

Plus, she knew that Adrien wanted to move on as much as he could before the court case. It would be a while before that happened, as evidence was currently being gathered against both Gabriel and Nathalie. Not only was Gabriel facing serious jail time, he was also being sued by both the city of Paris and multiple people who had been akumatized. By the end of it all, Marinette wasn't sure how much of the Agreste fortune would be left for Adrien beyond what was already legally his. She wasn't sure that Adrien cared, and perhaps rightfully so.

"That would be good. Class is so boring without you, Adrikins," Chloé said dramatically, and Adrien's smile was genuine this time.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he said, but it was obvious that he appreciated the sentiment. Marinette hid a sigh. That really clinched it, didn't it? She was going to have to figure out how to let go of what had happened in the past between her and Chloé, because Adrien cared too much about Chloé to ever let go of her. And at this point, Adrien had lost enough. She and Chloé would probably never be friends, but they'd have to peacefully co-exist for Adrien's sake.

God, the things she did this for this boy.

Adrien turned and looked down at his mother's grave again. His expression was solemn, and if Marinette hadn't known him as well as she did, she wouldn't have had a clue what he was thinking. Because she did know him, she knew that he was filled with regret. Regret that he had lost the chance to say goodbye to his mother, regret that he had already mourned her long before she was buried, perhaps even regret that Hawkmoth's plan hadn't worked and that he would never see her again. Not that he would have wanted Hawkmoth to win, but love could be a slippery slope like that.

She reached out and took his hand. Adrien looked over at her, startled. Marinette gave him a small smile, intertwining their fingers. She wanted him to know that he wasn't alone, that he would never be alone again, and it seemed that Adrien got the message because he smiled back and squeezed her hand. The coming weeks were going to be hard on him. He'd need as much support as he could get. Luckily, he had Marinette, their friends, and Marinette's parents. It wasn't as much as he deserved, but they were all going to do everything they could for him.

"Adrien, Marinette!"' Sabine called. "Are you ready?"

"Just give me a minute?" Marinette said, letting go of Adrien's hand. He gave her a puzzled look, but Alya stepped forward and linked her arm through Adrien's this time.

"Come on, Sunshine. I'm pretty sure you've lost weight since I last saw you. You need some pastries," Alya declared.

Nino's eyes lit up. "I can get on board with that."

The two of them hustled Adrien away. Marinette turned to look down at Émilie's grave. The flowers that Adrien had set down seemed lonely. She knelt down again and carefully adjusted the bouquet until it was nestled right up against the gravestone, where it would hopefully be protected from the wind.

"You didn't take the Bee back. Does that mean you trust me now?"

Marinette froze, and then wondered how she could've been so dumb as to forget that Chloé was there. In the span of time it took her to straighten up, she quickly weighed her options and finally went with, "What?"

"Oh, don't play stupid," Chloé said tiredly. "I know who you are. It was so obvious after that night."

"What?" Marinette said again, turning around in surprise.

For once, Chloé didn't sneer, just regarded Marinette steadily. "Chat. I've never been around him much before, but he knew exactly where to go in the Agreste mansion. The way he climbed those steps, it was exactly like Adrien," she said, quieter now. "And the look on his face when he saw the photograph at the top of the stairs... it had to be him. Which makes you Ladybug. You can deny it if you want to, but I won't believe you."

So much for the miraculous magic. Tikki had said that it would take something really obvious for someone to be able to break through. It made Marinette wonder just how well Chloé knew Adrien. She had always assumed that they weren't really friends based on how aggressive Chloé could be and how uncomfortable Adrien could get, but then again they had known each other for literally years. Chloé was the only person that Gabriel Agreste had never turned away from his son. So how many times had Chloé watched Adrien walked up those stairs with that same slump to his shoulders?

"Fine," Marinette conceded at last, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, okay, you're right. So what?"

"So can I keep my miraculous?" Chloé said, and Marinette cocked her head.

"That's it? No threats to out us unless you get your way?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"No," Chloé said.

"Because you know, if you stay as Queen Bee, you can never admit to anyone that you actually are Queen Bee," Marinette went on. "For that matter, it would probably be safest for you to assume a different identity. Yes." She nodded. "You'll have to pick out a new name for yourself and ask Pollen to change your outfit. Actually, Rena Rouge and Carapace will probably have to do the same."

Chloé didn't look thrilled by the news, but all she said was, "Okay."

"And if you ever told anyone who you were again, that would be immediate grounds for losing your miraculous," Marinette pressed.

"I have no one I care to tell," Chloé said. She was trying desperately hard to sound stoic, but fell short thanks to a slight quiver in her voice. In spite of Marinette's best efforts, that quiver got to her. Last time Chloé had outed herself in a bid to impress her mother, and all that had done was make Audrey think even less of her - if that was possible.

"Then yes," Marinette said, hoping she wouldn't regret this. Bottom of the line was, Chloé was good at being the Bee miraculous holder. Taking away the Bee miraculous wasn't going to erase the fact that Chloé had figured out who Ladybug and Chat Noir were. At least this way, Marinette would be able to keep a closer eye on Chloé. Or at least, that's what she told herself. Her decision had nothing to do with the huge smile that spread across Chloé's face.

"Thank you, Marinette," Chloé said, her blue eyes bright.

"You're welcome," Marinette said stiffly. "Papa baked a cake this morning. Would you like to come and have a piece? For Adrien's sake."

Chloé looked at her curiously, but finally nodded. "For Adrien's sake."

[reverseopossum]

Drunk Histories

(A decontextualized chapter from something I’m writing)

Nina’s forgotten that I don’t drink, and offered to get drunk with me. I appreciate the spirit of the offer enough that I don’t reject it. She and Ava and I sit at their kitchen table, an overturned ultralight shipping crate, and Nina steadfastly holds up her end of the offer.

Martian alcohol is pretty much straight distilled ethanol. You have to mix it, otherwise there’s a solid chance that your body will refuse to swallow it and you’ll aspirate pure alcohol, which is Double Plus Ungood. Ava brings out some powdered orange juice she’s been saving and mixes it in what I assume to be a sensible proportion. A variant on a screwdriver, we decide. A new, truly Martian drink, the Screw You Driver. I sip mine, which makes Nina laugh whenever she notices. I’m still on my first when she’s on her fourth. She catches me counting and Ava inching the pitcher further away, and says that watching me watch my country slide into fascism is stressing her out.

“It’s not just my country,” I say. “Haven’t you heard? They’re claiming ownership of Mars now. Citing the American people’s financial contribution under the old government. They’re demanding sole access to our data, control over our media and mail, and that we stop criticizing them. Apparently you’re all Americans now.”

“Should we be worried about that?” Ava asks. She does sound genuinely concerned, even appalled, but it’s the kind of concern you would have on hearing that a friend’s druggie uncle was arrested for peeing on the mailman. The claim is ridiculous, and probably impossible to enforce.

“What are they going to do?” I ask. “Bully the space nerds? Steal our lunch money?”

“It’s not like they’re going to send an invading force,” Nina says. “But they could stop us from getting supplies, couldn’t they? They own the space elevator.”

“I thought China was almost done building one,” I say. 

“They were,” Nina says. “But then it took damage from some stray debris, and the war distracted them from fixing it.” 

Well, shit.

“Good thing we grow food here,” Ava says, shrugging. In the pause that follows, I can feel her calculating what she would have to do to sustain all of us. Tear out the new trees and plant lots of potatoes instead, replace some of the air purifying plants with edible varieties, maybe task us with keeping some plants alive in our living quarters. Keep the tilapia tanks more crowded. Send a surface party for ice to supply the extra water. Do all that and ration calories to a bare minimum, and we might get by until the new dome is ready, if we abandon most of our research to free up labor for construction. We may or may not have to eat the lab mice.

Otherwise, our only real hope is that some other country will go to the unthinkable expense of a massive supply launch sans space elevator. That’s to say nothing of all the sides of Martian life I know nothing about: replacement parts for air recyclers, radiation shielding, and climate control. Without supplies, we can only survive if nothing breaks. It’s optimistic at best, laughable at worst. But it’s improbable that the new American regime would actually cut us off from using the elevator. Not when it would anger every country in the world simultaneously, and when we’re such a valuable symbol. 

“We should have a Martian Congressional Congress and declare independence,” Nina says with drunken conviction.

“Congressional Congress, Doctor?” Ava asks. (As a rule, Martians call each other Doctor or Professor only in dire sarcasm.)

“As an act of rebellion,” Nina says. “That’s what the old Americans did. Right, Jonah? Back when they had powdered wigs and shit?”

“Continental Congress,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. “For us, it would be a Planetary Congress. And if we’re going to declare independence, we should do it right. Who has really pretty handwriting?”

“Hang on,” Ava says. “This is my moment to shine.”

She darts into her bedroom and brings back, of all things, an expensive-looking calligraphy pen, a brand new ink cartridge, and a pad of thick creamy paper. “I told you I have the randomest hobbies,” she says, loading the pen. Nina and I stare in rapt attention as she writes the biggest, fanciest F and underlines it with an elaborate flourish.

Fuck you, she writes in enormous flowery script. She thinks a moment, and adds beneath it, Love, Mars.

“Well, folks, there it is,” I say. “We’re a country now. And the national anthem is Space Oddity.”

“Can I design the flag, too?” Ava asks, taking out her personal screen.

“Knock yourself out.”

The result is a tiny white rocket launching against a field of dusky blue. The plume beneath the rocket is vivid orange-red, and shaped like an enormous fist with an upturned middle finger.

“The blue represents wisdom, rationality, and an eye turned toward the infinite,” Ava deadpans.

“Red is for lust,” Nina announces. “With which, we assume, humanity will procreate among the stars.”

“Red is for Mars, dumbass.”

“How far can you zoom in?” I ask. “I’m thinking since it’s a digital drawing, you could add a little person in the rocket flipping the bird. Then people find it if they zoom in.”

“Or what about mooning them?” Nina asks.

“Dude,” Ava says. “And then if you zoom in further…”

“Um…”

“Not on the ass! I’m thinking he’s kind of looking over his shoulder, and if you zoom in on the face, you can see the other new flag everyone’s talking about reflected in his eyes. So they know who it’s meant for.”

“That’s too heavy-handed with the symbolism,” I say.

“Then why did your old government put the Illuminati on money?”

“That’s… you know what, that’s a fair point.”

“No pledge of ‘llegiance, though, ‘cause it’s creepy,” Nina says, slurring slightly. The drinks are catching up with her.

“We need a national bird,” Ava says. “Everyone has an eagle or some shit.”

“Ben Franklin thought it should be a turkey,” I say.

Nina blows a raspberry and points both thumbs down. “No turkeys on Mars,” she says.

“A lab mouse with mechanical wings?” Ava suggests.

“Guys,” I say. “I’ve got it. A spherical bird in a vacuum.”

“Beautiful,” Ava says. “Majestic. I’ll start drawing it. What about a national motto to put underneath it?”

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Nina says.

“You don’t need a doctorate to come up with this shit,” I say.

“No,” Nina says, “that’s the motto.”

We hang the Declaration of Independence on the sample fridge in the neuro lab, and Nina makes the seal with the spherical bird her home screen. Someday we’ll be independent, but for now it’s impossible. For now, it’s a joke. 

[rotationalsymmetry]

Long post about how justice needs to be about the people harmed, not the people causing the harm. From justice for individuals to social justice. Some non-graphic discussion of rape. Behind a cut, partly because of the rape stuff but mostly because it’s really long. Somewhat rambly.

I’ve got one more in me. At least. Hang on.

My brain will fan out in one of a thousand arbitrary directions and then not want to go back. I can do this.

Ah, right, “as usual this isn’t about being a bad person.” The US and I’m assuming the Western world in general, has a really skewed idea of justice. We think it’s about the person causing harm.

Let’s say someone rapes me. Let’s say it’s one of those mythical rapes that almost never happens: a stranger in a dark alley relying on physical force. OK. That’s bad. That’s not a stealing baby formula kind of crime, it’s not something that just shouldn’t be illegal in the first place or something that wouldn’t be an issue under a more fair economic system, that’s really bad.

(A massive percentage of the prison population is there for nonviolent drug crimes, and in general illegal is not the same thing as wrong.)

Is putting the rapist in jail going to help me or other people? I mean, maybe I’ll feel a little bit safer, maybe?

Except that’s not how most rapes happen. The guy who actually raped me wasn’t a stranger who physically overpowered me. He was my boyfriend. And he didn’t need to overpower me because I trusted him and thought that since I’d said that I wanted to do some things and not other things he’d respect that and, well, turns out I was wrong.

There is no way in hell I would have gotten a conviction, if I’d even contacted the police, if I’d even seen it as rape at the time. I’d have to prove, in a court of law, beyond a reasonable doubt, that it wasn’t consensual, and how do you do that? And most rape victims can’t. Because most rapes are committed by someone the victim knows — a boyfriend, a spouse, a friend, an acquaintance — and they’re not committed using physical force. (Alcohol/drugs are really common, although not in my case.)

How do you prove it was rape? You don’t.

That’s the bad news. The good news is, you don’t have to punish the rapists to create a world with less rape in it, or to support people who have been raped. You can tell the truth about rape and dispel the myths. You can make therapy widely available, and medical care including abortion widely available and cheap or better yet free. (In spite of what a certain Republican politician has claimed on the record, there’s no special magic that keeps people with a uterus from getting pregnant if they didn’t want the sex.)

Oh, and including generous support for parents who don’t have a lot of resources, for victims unlucky enough to get pregnant who choose to not go the abortion route.

You can promote consent culture (talking about what getting consent looks like) and fight slut shaming (slut shaming is always also rape victim shaming) and promote bystander intervention and make certain kinds of “locker room talk” socially unacceptable and spend an inordinate amount of time talking about “It’s Cold Outside”.

You can address the myth that false accusations of rape are common. You can impose social and economic consequences on accused rapists without waiting for or requiring legal confirmation. You can bring “missing stairs” out into the open. You can decide this isn’t a good time to talk about the Rule of Three when a rape victim asks for a curse in your online pagan group. You can believe victims and support victims and not ask a bunch of weird “ok, but you must have done something to make him think you wanted it” type questions.)

(Um, I’m mostly using male perpetrator/female victim language here, but rape absolutely happens in queer contexts and women can sexually assault men or boys, and believing male or nonbinary victims and people who have been victimized by women or other not-men is important too.)

Hmm. I don’t think this is exactly what I wanted to talk about here. But I guess I’ll roll with it?

Anyways: if my rapist was in prison that wouldn’t do a danged thing to help me. What helps me? Project Unbreakable. Yes Means Yes. Other people who have been raped talking about their experiences. A lot of people being very emphatic that it’s not a “misunderstanding” thing and it’s not the victim’s fault. People talking about what the emotional fall-out of being raped can look like, and how there’s no “wrong” way to react to being raped. People who make it possible to talk about this stuff without getting a lot of weird ass reactions.

And, you know, health care and stuff.

And this is what justice should look like: what helps people who have been harmed, what mitigates the damage, what promotes healing. Which pretty much always starts with speaking truth and dispelling the myths.

It’s really, really, really not about the perpetrators.

And it’s the same thing with all oppression related stuff. Racism isn’t about white people. This anti-immigrant xenophobic stuff going on in the US, isn’t about white US citizens who are overly fond of weird candy metaphors, it’s about immigrants and their families and what they need.

Fighting the patriarchy fundamentally isn’t about punishing men or doing anything with men at all, and taking the focus away from men is a really important step in fighting patriarchy.

Fighting ableism isn’t about temporarily abled people at all, and I have to say as a formerly temporarily abled person (or at least formerly able bodied person) that term resonates with me hard. It really is a fundamentally unreliable state of being.

Anyways: it’s about disabled people. It’s about being clear on the differences between what our conditions do to us and what a human-made world does to us. It’s about taking our voices out of the margins and putting them in the center. It’s about resources and support and challenging the idea that worth is connected to productivity or independence. It’s about being real and upfront about how while work often needs to be done, work isn’t worth. It’s about acknowledging that sometimes what happens to us isn’t caused by us. It’s making space for seeing people who are sick or injured who aren’t getting better, ever. It’s about representation in media, it’s about accommodations, it’s about addressing stigmas. It’s not about abled people at all.

So: I’m disabled, ableism is (partially) about me. (Definitely partially though — there’s some forms of ableism I don’t experience, and other forms I rarely experience compared to others.) When we’re talking about a type of ableism I experience (like...doctors assuming you’re not really that sick because you look healthy) my voice is important; when we’re talking about another type of ableism (like...people with developmental disabilities being treated as less than human) I need to get into ally mode and support.

I’m white: that means my opinion is intrinsically less important when the conversation turns to racism, because it’s not about me. My role is to support, to not get in the way, to use my privilege to amplify people of color’s voices. Mostly to step back. To listen. To not make it all about me.

Idk, I don’t want to act like different forms of oppression are interchangeable, and I think sometimes I do fall into that way of thinking. They’re not, there’s significantly different issues and concerns. But there’s also some extent to which ideas about one form of oppression can be transferred to other forms, some extent to which generalizations can be made. It’s easier for me to “get” racism if I think about the ways I’m marginalized. It’s not a substitute for listening though.

Anyways. I think people mess up on this a lot. Like, so much of oppression talk would be easier if there weren’t so many people whose immediate reaction to hearing oppression words like “classism” or “racist” or “patriarchy” or “transphobia” was to think “you’re telling me I’m a bad person” or even “you’re saying all men are bad” or whatever. That’s not what it’s about.

You can be really clear that that’s not what you’re saying, and people will hear it anyways because that’s what they’re primed to hear. That’s how they’re primed to think about justice. Which is one heck of a barrier to actually getting justice.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 3

Warnings: some language, descriptions of injury and blood

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Next chapter!! Things are going to start picking up from here - Bucky (and the rest of the gang) will be getting more involved, and making more of a mess. Thank you so much for your support of this series! As always, let me know what you think! <3

Three weeks. Three whole weeks.

It had been 23 days since Y/N moved out to the middle of nowhere, and 20 days since she had taken over her tiny clinic. She had seen tick bites and viral infections and strep throat and cysts. She had passed out prescriptions and signed insurance papers and given flu shots. She had unpacked all of her clothes into the tidy wardrobe and closet, once the mothball smell finally dissipated. And she had spent every single night alone in her house.

Y/N had thought that having roommates all through college and medical school was a necessary evil - though she always got along with them, the real dream was having a place all to yourself, right? No one coming in or leaving at odd hours, no one stealing your leftover takeout. No one to talk to. Ever.

If she had to spend one more night scrolling through Netflix by herself, she was going to jump in front of a semi.

Which was why she was standing in front of a now-full closet, flipping through dresses and shirts to wear, discarding and debating her options. When Charlotte had informed her of Back to School fair this weekend, Y/N had practically wept with joy. Charlotte was planning to take her two boys, Ethan and Caleb, and welcomed Y/N to join them for the evening - she jumped at the chance to do something, go somewhere. To wear something other than scrubs. That was probably why she had been in front of her closet for 20 minutes now - there were so many options when she hadn’t been able to wear her fun clothes in nearly a month.

She settled on a sundress and sneakers and made it out the door on the tail of an “On my way!” text to Charlotte.

The fairground normally doubled as a public park and playground on the outskirts of town. As she pulled into the vacant field across the street and parked her car, Y/N marvelled at the sheer volume of activity they were able to fit into such a small park. There was a ferris wheel, a swing ride, and one of those spinning g-force rides with a blinking sign that read ‘Gravitron’. The overwhelming smell of popcorn and fried foods drifted on the afternoon air, promising the most nostalgic foods imaginable. Carnival games and craft booths filled the park, boasting prizes and homemade goods.

Charlotte was waiting next to a white gazebo at the front of the park, a young boy with curly dark hair standing next to her. She caught sight of Y/N approaching from across the street and waved, her smile big and bright. Y/N waved back, jogging across the street to get out of the way of an oncoming truck.

“Hi,” she greeted, slightly out of breath. “I hope I’m not late?”

“Oh no! We just got here,” Charlotte smiled her easy smile, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “This is my younger son, Caleb. He’s 10.” Caleb lifted his hand and quirked his mouth shyly.

“Hello, Caleb, nice to meet you,” Y/N gave him her warmest smile. “Don’t you have an older brother somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Caleb nodded, frowning a little. “But mom let him go with his friends.”

“Well, sorry baby, but 10 is just not old enough for boys to go off unsupervised,” Charlotte rolled her eyes fondly. “When you’re 13 you can run around with your buddies like Ethan. Until then, you’re stuck hanging out with your very cool mom.”

Y/N stifled her laughter as Caleb sighed a long suffering sigh. Charlotte just winked.

“Now, come on, I’m dying for some lemonade.”

The three of them had a blast exploring the fair; in spite of having only two adult females for company, Caleb certainly enjoyed himself, indulging in fried oreos and corndogs and sodas, and somehow still managing to hold it down when they rode the swings. Y/N won a small pocket knife in a ring toss game, which she talked the carnie into trading back for a superhero action figure that Caleb could play with. They sipped lemonade and listened to the live music from a country singer they had never heard of.

“Mom, can we go on the ferris wheel now?” Caleb asked, urgently tugging on her sleeve. “Look, the line is really short!”

“Honey, I think the cars only take two riders…” Charlotte trailed off, her meaning understood. She didn’t want to leave Y/N sitting out, or sitting with a stranger.

“No, no - don’t worry about me! I can stay right here and watch your things anyway,” Y/N insisted. “Really, I don’t mind. I’m not a big fan of heights anyway.”

Charlotte seemed unsure, but after a bit more coaxing she let Caleb drag her away to the ferris wheel before the lines got long again. Y/N smiled watching them go, licking the powdered sugar off her fingers from her funnel cake. They had had a fun afternoon, but she felt she should let them spend some time together with just the two of them.

Wringing an overused napkin in one hand, she scrolled through the photos on her phone. Between the late afternoon sun and the fairground backdrop, she had taken some nice pictures. She should post one on Instagram, probably. Just to let everyone know she was still alive. Her thumb swiped through her phone and tapped on the app, pulling up a timeline full of bright smiles and baby photos.

“WE GOT A DOCTOR HERE?!”

Y/N’s head whipped around so fast her neck popped. Who said that?

“MY FRIEND NEEDS HELP! ARE THERE ANY DOCTORS HERE?”

A dark-skinned man in a blue t-shirt was running in between picnic tables and shouting, turning back and forth in his search.

“I am! I’m a doctor!” Y/N shot up from the bench, maneuvering around her purse and Caleb’s prizes. She waved a hand at the man. “Over here!”

His face briefly softened in relief, then intensified again as he jogged between tables towards her and grabbed her wrist.

“This way, doc, he’s really bleeding a lot,” he said over his shoulder, weaving between couples and children and cotton candy vendors. Y/N’s heart pounded, adrenaline sharpening her focus.

“Have you called an ambulance already? If it’s more than I can handle, they’d better be on their way - the hospital is too far.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he gave a sharp nod. “But somebody told me we had a new doctor in town - figured it was worth a shot to see if you were out here tonight.”

They rounded a shooting gallery game and she saw him, sprawled out on the grass and face covered in blood. That would be the patient, she assumed. Blood flowed from a gash on his forehead, slicking his face and neck like something out of a slasher flick. He was conscious, sputtering and spitting blood from his mouth as he tried to talk to the man that was holding his head and shoulders in his lap. Y/N was at his side in a second.

“How did this happen?” she questioned, all business.

“Uh, he fell, hit his head on one of the stakes holding up the tents,” the man holding her patient’s head spoke up.

Lie. A very obvious one, but fine. Without sparing the other man a glance, Y/N leaned forward over the bleeding man’s face.

“Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor, I’m going to have a look at this cut, alright?”

“ ‘kay,” he mumbled, nodding. The blood around his lips was starting to dry and crack.

Y/N glanced around, looking for something to stop the bleeding. With no other options, she unwrapped the denim shirt from her waist and pressed it to the man’s forehead, using both hands to increase the pressure. She turned to the man who had come to find her, hovering nearby and chewing his lip.

“I’ll need something to clean this with. Just warm water is fine if you can find it. Once I clean the blood off we’ll see if he needs stitches.” Nodding once, he disappeared into the crowd once again. Y/N turned back to her patient, lifting the shirt lightly to examine the bleeding.

“Sure bleeds like a bitch, don’t it?”

She actually jumped when the other man spoke - she had paid no attention to him, other than noting that he was holding his friend's head. She looked up. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me-

“We keep meeting in weird ways,” Bucky smiled ruefully at her from under his baseball cap. She blinked. Turned back to the matter at hand.

“I’d say this is a little different than shopping for brownie mix,” Y/N muttered. Who did he think he was, acting like this was some kind of meet-cute? And after the way he acted in the grocery store?

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. His laugh jostled his friend’s head and shoulders a bit and the man groaned.

“Buck, stop flirtin’,” he said, exasperated. “You’re distracting the doctor.”

“Believe me, I’m the furthest thing from distracted.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

Bucky looked like he was about to say more, but then their other friend returned with water, towels, and a small first aid kit. They were helpful and followed her instructions while she cleaned the wound and wiped the rest of the man’s face - he was nearly as handsome as Bucky under all that blood, with a straight nose and sharp square jaw. She used a little disinfectant around the area and chewed her lip as she examined the edges of the cut.

“It looks like you’ll need stitches, Mr…?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” His voice sounded a bit better after they had given him a sip of water.

“Alright, Steve. Let me unpack the kit here and see if we have a needle,” she nodded, reaching back and flipping the first aid kit open in her lap. Whoever packed the kit must have been a nurse or paramedic of some kind, because they had thankfully included a suture needle and surgical thread. She snapped on a pair of gloves and opened the sterile plastic packet containing the needle. “Sorry, I don’t think I have an anesthetic.”

“It’s alright, doc,” he sighed. “I think the Army might be ashamed of me if I can’t handle a few stitches.”

“He’s had plenty of stitches before - hell, he’s had more than anybody I know,” Bucky piped up. “He can handle it.”

“Thanks a lot, jerk,” Steve scoffed.

“You’re welcome, asshole.”

“Y’all wanna shut up and let the doctor do her job or what?” the other man, Sam, she had learned, glared at them both.

“Alright,” Y/N took a breath and threaded her needle. “If you need to bite something or squeeze something do it, just stay still.”

Steve was a model patient, he didn’t even flinch as the needle tugged the tear in his skin closed, though he hissed through his teeth and clenched his fist down on Bucky’s hand. Sam crouched down next to them and watched intently, but stayed quiet. They watched her work, hands steady and efficient. Y/N enjoyed the focus that came with her work - she blocked out the fair rides and the screaming children and country music. Her vision closed in on the needle and the skin, carefully weaving and tying the wound closed.

When she finished and cut the thread, she sat back on her heels and sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay, Mr. Rogers. I think you’ll live.”

Steve smiled a crooked, all-American grin. “You’re a miracle worker, doc.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Just faster than an ambulance. And actually, if you really did hit your head on a metal stake, I think I ought to check for a concussion.”

Bucky and Sam helped tug him to his feet so she could check his coordination and shine her phone flashlight at his pupils. He insisted his head didn’t hurt or feel dizzy, so she cleared him, though they did let the paramedics have a look when they finally arrived.

A few minutes later she was standing to the side, arms crossed, as she watched the ambulance pull away. She felt more than heard his heavy-booted steps come up beside her, but she didn’t turn to look.

“You did a great job, doc,” Bucky offered, trying to catch her eye.

“Thank you.”

“Lucky you were here.”

“It wasn’t a deep wound, he would’ve been fine waiting for the ambulance.”

“Still.” He took a half step forward, into her eye line and she turned to face him fully. His expression was full of something she couldn’t quite make out - hope? Admiration? Gratitude? Bucky’s eyes roamed her face, unwilling or unable to move away. The longer she held his gaze, the more she felt that something unspoken was passing between them, something she couldn’t articulate. But it was too much, whatever it was.

Y/N took a step backward, breaking eye contact as she glanced towards Steve and Sam, sitting at a picnic table 20 feet away.

“Keep an eye out for your friends. Wouldn’t want them to keep falling on sharp objects,” she said, continuing to back away from Bucky. He shifted his feet as if he wanted to follow, but decided against it. Without giving him a chance to speak, she turned on her heel and left.

Caleb spotted her first when she was back in sight of their table. He tugged on his mother’s arm and pointed; Charlotte visibly melted in relief when Y/N met her eyes and waved.

“We were worried you’d been kidnapped or something!” Charlotte half-joked as she approached. Y/N grimaced, realizing she had left their things out in the open - thank god it looked like nothing was stolen.

“I’m so sorry, there was an emergency, a man had fallen and cut his head,” Y/N rushed to explain, noticing Charlotte’s eyes dart down to her dress. Y/N’s eyes followed. “...and clearly, there was a lot of blood.”

“Jesus. It’s a good thing they found you, huh?”

“I guess so,” Y/N shrugged lamely.

“Who was it? Did you catch a name?”

“He said Steve Rogers?” She didn’t quite catch Charlotte’s eyes widening as she continued. “His friend was there, Bucky Barnes. He’s my neighbor across the street.”

Charlotte’s face looked pinched and she had a white-knuckled grip on Caleb’s shoulder, but she managed a pained smile.

“Oh. Well I guess you’ll be wanting to head home and get into some clean clothes?” Her words were strained. “We had a great time tonight, see you Monday!” And then she was practically dragging Caleb away at a clipped pace, just slow enough to seem sane.

What the fuck is going on in this town?

[thebeautyofdisorder]

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but chapter 4 is here! I really hope you like it. Whether i will leave it here (for now) or add on anymore immediately I’m not sure of, but I suppose we will see. Please let me know what you think! 

First two Chapters Here

Chapter 3 Is Here

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE -

Rating: T, for blood and maybe language

Pairing: Dracula & Zoe/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter 4

He'd felt her before he heard her, despite her best attempt at startling him, her form partially blocking out the beam of light projecting from the door he hadn't cared to close. It took more self-control than the Count would ever willingly admit to remain facing away from the source of the voice, if for no other reason than to keep his confusion as close to the vest as possible. He refused to be at a disadvantage again, with her more than anyone.

“Apparently we’ve both underestimated our own resilience,” he remarked, with faint amusement calling back to his comment from the last time they’d met, though he couldn’t rightly include the ‘vampire’ designation. She didn’t feel like a vampire, and yet she was certainly not the sick woman who he’d left for dead. 

“So it would seem,” Zoe agreed, taking a few steps inside despite the agitation she’d felt from a distance ramping up to a fever pitch now that she was actually in his presence. It wasn’t fear – he wasn’t likely to be any danger to her in her current state, not anymore. She was simply hyper-aware of Dracula, and it was causing a strange disconnect between her mind and her body. At least she’d assumed he was the cause of it, but now as she found herself approaching him for closer study, without any inherent want on her part, she wasn’t so sure he alone was to blame.

“Indestructible after all.”

“Yes, I’m afraid Death has turned out to be completely immune to my allure,” the vampire drawled in a good imitation of indifference, finally turning about to meet her approach, head tilting as he took her in with careful consideration.

“What?” She felt herself ask, feeling the weight of his focus drag on a moment too long for her liking.

Dracula ignored her question, approaching closer until she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, an act she wasn’t accustomed to having to enact that often in her daily life. His hand lifted, brushing her hair off her neck to study the state of his bite. The wound was raised and slightly jagged, but shown white against her skin - evidence of rapid healing, yet no inflammation or scabbing. 

A clear sign of life – real life, in a woman he had murdered a week ago. A wry chuckle reverberated through his chest, previously so still that she could feel it like a distant earthquake.

“Of course it would be you.”

One sharp nail grazed the pierced flesh, and she stood rigid against the tremor that bloomed over her skin until his hand dropped, and his gaze flipped rapidly from probing to analytical. 

“Why though? Five centuries I’ve been trying to procreate, and it was rare enough I even got within the realm of close. Most recent attempt notwithstanding, perhaps Johnny, but he threw himself off a bloody cliff, and well – he didn’t exactly look very alive towards the end, did he?” he blurted with a scoff, the cogs of his mind whirring as he began to pace in front of the window. They were almost audible, tripping over the obvious until someone couldn’t resist the urge to prod the bear any longer.

“You haven’t figured it out yet? Honestly, Count, maybe you should’ve eaten more doctors.” 

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, catching the muted edge of Dutch hostility he had grown to know far too well over the last century, infuriation and amusement blending imperceptibly on his face. His lips parted, intent on snapping back, but just as quickly he stopped, shut his mouth and took a moment to think. Out of spite, of course.

Then it clicked. 

The count let out a loud guffaw of frustrated laughter, slapping his large hands down on the table with so much force Agatha was surprised it didn’t split down the middle. It was the least collected she had ever seen him outside of a blood frenzy, and it was at first difficult to tell if he were furious or enthused.

“Of course. My blood. Of course,” he announced, grinning widely to himself, before spinning and turning upon the woman before him, grabbing her by the shoulders, uncaring if she shared in his jubilation or not.

“What was it, Agatha, you told Johnny all those years ago? There was a pathogen that was passed from one to another, yes? Oh, you are brilliant. And heaven’s sake, I am an idiot at times, aren’t I?” he mock-sighed, lauding perhaps a little less than an ounce of authenticity to his self-deprecation.

“At times?” She snarked back, despite Zoe’s otherwise well intended vow to not indulge him, leaning back in reluctance to his grip. 

His eyes rolled skyward, tilting his head to look down at her in disappointment, retaining her in his grasp. “Always one to ruin a party.” 

“Only if it’s yours.” 

A pointy-toothed grin slowly overcame his face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he shot back, in what could have almost passed for warmth. 

With a brief, forced groan of disgust, Zoe decided it was paramount to take back control of this particular reunion with some sense of urgency before it got off the rails any further. Nudging her shoulders out of his grasp, which he surprisingly didn’t protest, she paced back and looked out the window, “You know I can’t just let you go infect the world with unquenchable bloodlust, Count Dracula.”

“Oh?” He inquired with a small hum of surprise, stuffing his hands as far into his pockets as they would fit. “You don’t look so unquenchable to me…” His tone was mocking, but his eyes shown dark with curiosity. 

“That’s because I’m not like you.”

He looked even more amused. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Have you been around fresh blood?”

She didn’t respond, but from her stubborn silence he already knew the answer.

“Have you been eating? Sleeping?”

“Some,” Zoe protested, turning back to face him with renewed confidence. “More often than not I’ve been working.”

Dracula looked mildly alarmed at the insinuation, but not for any reason pertaining to himself. “Don’t tell me you went back to that institute? Oh, Zoe. Surely you know that can never end well?”

“You yourself said science is the future, and I very much agree. Which is why I’m going to do everything in power to make sure that I never have to take anyone’s life,” she continued, powering through his protest like the useless distraction it was. She didn’t for a moment think he had any real concern for her well being, vampire or not.

“By starving yourself until some unfortunate intern gets an ill-timed paper cut? Dr. Helsing, they’ll lock you up and throw away the key. Believe me. I know.”  

“I’m not starving myself. The reason you can’t process solid food is because all of your organs stopped functioning centuries ago, I am going to do what I can to make sure that doesn’t happen to me. Plus, there are other ways to intake the nutrients within blood that are necessary to live without using someone else’s veins to do it,” she protested, holding her head high in protest.

His brows wagged, her stubbornness coming as no shock, despite the unfortunate nature of it. If the rest of the Van Helsing bloodline were half as persistent as just one of these women’s weakest moments, he hated to know what the family dinners were like. 

“Fine. Fair enough. If you’re so determined to try that approach I can’t stop you. But don’t expect me to join you.” 

Her smile was triumphant, but minimal. “Oh I don’t. So long as you don’t expect me to let you murder your way through the British Isles uninhibited.” 

His smile mirrored hers, and despite knowing there was nothing (he was currently aware of) that she could use to stand in his way, his eyes held a darker edge of challenge and his voice was a ragged, conspiratorial whisper. “On the contrary. I would be highly disappointed if you did.”

She quirked a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you like it when things don’t go your way.”

The vampire shrugged, approaching her once more. “Call it an existential crisis. On the other hand…” He placed one longer finger under her chin and with light pressure, urged it up so that she was meeting his eyes more directly. “All my best brides are the defiant ones.”

A mocking scoff erupted from her throat, and after a short, internal scuffle it was, at least in part, Agatha’s words that countered him. “I am not your bride, Count. In fact none of them ever were – you don’t keep ‘brides’ in boxes and feed them garden pests. Those were lab rats. A bride is someone you actually have to ‘live’ with – if you’ll excuse the colloquialism.” She gently jerked her jaw out of his grasp.

“Good thing we have forever, then.”  He gave her another brief crooked smile and began to walk past her entirely towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m starving. I trust you can find your way out – unless you’d like to join me?”

“I’ll pass,” Zoe insisted, blinking out of the strange daze of his presence and Agatha’s intrusion with an annoyed set to her shoulders, looking after him with a look of warning. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He paused, glancing back one last time from the hall. 

“Looking forward to it.” 

---

Thank you everyone who’s been following it, I hope I paid off that cliffhanger while still being a tease.  I hope the Agatha/Zoe conundrum doesn’t come off entirely too confusing, though it is meant to be confusing to her as well. Poor Zoe. Join the OT3 or put up with our incessant fuckery Also, I wrote this at work yesterday, so this post is funded by the US government ;)

@my-fanfic-library @ohveda @imagineandimagine @wannabebloodsucker @hoefordarkness @mymagicsuitcase @crazytxgradstudent @itendedbadly @theplumsoldier @gatissed @allfandoms-writings @littlemessyjessi @punk-courtesan @vampiregirl1797 @gleefullyselfishreblogs @break-free-killer-queen @desperatefrenchwriter @bellamortislife @charlesdances @iloveclaesbang @carydorse @ss9slb @dreamerkim @isayhourwrong

I’ll add anyone else who asks! 

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12: Fusion Reborn (2/6)

This time around, I’ll try to explain just what Janemba is, exactly, and why he’s a big deal.  But to do that, we have to get through the first ten minutes of this movie, so...

Movie 12 opens at the Grand Kai Planet, then pans to an asteroid orbiting the planet, where there’s a stadium hosting a tournament.    I never really paid attention to it before, but this is a whole other venue than the one used in DBZ 196-199.    If nothing else, this arena has a big green ring.   It looks like it’s made ouf of jade or something.   It’s a really nice touch.

I always assumed that the idea here was to hold a second Otherworld Tournament, since the one from Episodes 196-199 ended without a winner.    Then again, it’s been seven years since that event, so it seems odd that they would have waited so long.   On the other hand, everyone involved is either dead or a Kai, so seven years may not seem like that long a wait.  

King Kai, also known as the North Kai, is feeling really confident, since his top fighter, Goku, dominated the last tournament.   As before, East Kai and South Kai’s camps aren’t doing very well at all.   

But South Kai is still confident, since one of his fighters is still in the semifinals.   The subs refer to him as “Clove”, but I’m pretty sure he’s talking about Frog, or “Frogue” as he’s credited in the Funimation version.

So he and King Kai bicker about who’s gonna win, but Goku beats Frogue with a single kick, and I’m pretty sure the bout was shorter than their argument. 

Meanwhile, Pikkon defeats Aqua, aka Argua, in the other semifinal match.   I guess Aqua must have improved over the past seven years to have made it this far.

So that eliminates the East and South Galaxies from the tournement.    South Kai immediately starts rooting for Pikkon just to spite King Kai.   It’s kind of weird how Pikkon is a West Galaxy guy, but we don’t hear a lot from West Kai in this movie.    Maybe South Kai got the nod because he was actually in the manga, so he’s more “canonical” than the West or East Kais. 

So the final match is Goku vs. Pikkon, in a rematch of their epic match from Episodes 198 and 199.   That ended in a draw when both men touched the ceiling of the arena, and maybe that’s why they switched the venue this time.  

Both men do Respect Knuckles and the match begins.  

What I like about this movie is that this isn’t even the main story, but it totally could have been.  Toei did a five episode arc about the Grand Kai holding a tournament of all these dead fighters.  They could have done a movie that was just a sequel to that arc.   I don’t know how well-received it would have been, but I would have gone for it.    Maybe a new fighter dies and joins this group in the afterlife, and Goku has trouble against him.   Maybe you have Broly escape hell and crash the tournament.  There’s a lot of cool things you can do with this, but you could just have Goku and Pikkon fight some more.

But Movie 12 has even bigger things to get to, so this is just a scene to establish some of the characters.   And that’s how this movie rolls.  You could expand this story into a twenty-or-thirty-episode saga very easily.   

So we move on to King Yemma’s place, which the dub refers to as the “Check-In Station.”   I’m not super-familiar with Japanese mythology concerning the afterlife, but my understanding is that when you die, you go to King Yemma for judgement.     DBZ satirizes this idea by having the dead people’s souls wait in line, and all the oni who work for Yemma are like white collar wage slaves, and King Yemma has a desk with a big rubber stamp to notarize each soul’s fate.

In this particular scene, they’re having a busy day, probably echoing the episodes from the Buu Saga where millions of people were showing up every few minutes while Majin Buu was wiping out the Earth’s population.   Yemma’s basically zipping right through these guys, which I think is meant to be ironic.   I feel like the real King Yemma is supposed to take longer to examine a person’s moral character.  

Anyway, if you get sent to Heaven, you’re escorted to this big aircraft that flies you to a planet somewhere in Otherworld.     We’ll see it later in the Fusion Saga, but the plane was last seen in Episode 195, although Goku used a second, smaller plane to travel to the Grand Kai Planet. 

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure this hole that opens up in the wall is new.   In Episode 195, Goku and King Kai just walked through a doorway.

If you’re condemned to Hell, you have to go through a machine to cleanse your soul of evil.  I was under the impression that hell itself was meant to do that, but this franchise can never make up its mind about how hell works. 

According to Episode 237, when you’re a bad person and you die, you don’t get to keep your body like Goku did, and your soul is eventually purged of memory, and reincarnated as a new life form.    I don’t know how much of that is based on actual Japanese mythology, if any, but at least in DBZ, the idea of hell is not to act as a place of eternal suffering for the wicked.    It’s more like a very long jail sentence, designed to redeem the wicked so that they can proceed onto reincarnation or maybe some other phase of existence.   The suffering is part of the rehabilitation process.

I think that’s why Frieza still had his body in Movie 15, even after so many years in hell.    They let him keep it, but only so he could experience greater torment.   In theory, he would get so worn down that he would come to accept his punishment as the rightful consequence of all his evil deeds, and then his body would dissipate and he would lose his memory and identity.    But Frieza’s such a hateful bitch that he hung in there long enough to get wished back to life.  

On the other hand, these souls are all formless clouds.   It seems like only important characters get to keep their bodies in hell.   That may just be a convenience for the audience, or maybe stronger bad guys can maintain their physical form more easily.   Maybe that’s why they didn’t send Frieza through this machine.    He would have gummed up the works and broken it.    Maybe it’s only used for the not-so-evil souls who are easier to deal with.   Instead of spending 100,000 years climbing the needle mountain, they can just go through the cleansing machine and move on.

Whatever the case, this movie establishes that a machine cleans souls and extracts their evil residue in the form of a dark purple liquid that gets stored in special tanks.  

And they have an oni on duty to keep an eye on things and switch out the tanks when they get full.    But it’s a dull job, and the pay sucks, so he listens to a Walkman and plays air guitar to help pass the time.

But King Yemma’s sending an awful lot of people to hell today.   He’s not even taking a break for lunch.   So that waste tank’s going to fill up quickly.

Okay, I just realized that all of these guys wear tiger-striped clothes, and I think that’s because oni in folklore wear tiger-skins.   They do in Yu Yu Hakusho, and I assume they dress a little more authentically there.    Their version of King Yemma is treated like a bigger deal.    Anyway, one of the older workers scolds the Tank Clerk for slacking off, and threatens him with a pay cut.  

He also points out the rapidly filling tank, and the clerk seems enthusiastic about switching it, but he never actually does.

I really dig this guy’s jacket.   That skull and crossbones looks cool.

But soon enough, there’s an overload on the waste system, and the line breaks.   I guess the oni don’t believe in relief flanges, but maybe spiritual waste is too hazardous to release into the atmosphere.     Well, it’s happening now.

Tank Clerk knows right away that he’s screwed.   He’s worried for his job, and he has no idea what to do about a spill this big.    I think it’s more than just the one tank breaking.    Like, somehow it set off a chain reaction that blew all the other tanks they had sitting nearby.   Man, OSHA would have a field day with this place.   Why is Tank Clerk wearing shorts to work when he’s surrounded by toxic waste?    What good is a fire extinguisher going to do?   Does he have no idea how to respond to this situation?   Who here does?

But then things go from bad to worse, as the spirit waste mutates him into some sort of bizarre creature.  

Yeah, you might want to have a doctor take a look at that.

As soon as King Yemma hears what’s going on, he shits a brick.   Those tanks contained accumulated evil from countless souls that have been through that cleansing machine.    Why didn’t they dispose of any of it?   Can it be destroyed?   Is that Beerus’ job?  Like he just shows up every hundred years and zaps the full tanks into oblivion?   Well, he won’t be invented for another 18 years, so Yemma’s on his own for this one.

As for Tank Clerk, well he looks like this now.   

Then he sits on top of Yemma’s building and... I’m not really sure what this is.   Let’s start over.    So this monster that was once the Tank Clerk only says one word, and that’s “Janemba”, which isn’t even a word, I think.   So everyone calls him that like it’s his name.  

Apparently his power is some sort of reality manipulation?   That’s pretty vague, actually, since manipulating reality implies you can basically do anything, but what else can I call this?   Janemba creates all these huge jellybean-looking crystals, and some of them used to be other objects, but maybe others were created from nothing.    I think he encased Yemma’s palace in a crystal, but it sort of looks like he distorted the building at the same time.

Inside, things look pretty normal, but there’s some crystal formations within the building, and one of the ogres gets encased in it himself.  

Also, Janemba can project his image in different parts of these crystals.    Maybe this is meant to be simple reflections and refractions, but it seems more magical than that.  

Yemma seems to understand what’s going on better than I do, but there’s nothing he can do about it.    Janemba is the result of the tank clerk being possessed by the evil ki in the spirit waste.    This gave him the ability to surround Yemma’s domain with a barrier, and that barrier has suspended Yemma’s control over the boundary between the living world and the afterlife.   The only way to stop it is to defeat Janemba, and Yemma can’t very well do this while he’s trapped in his own stronghold.  

As I think about it, I sort of wonder if it’s not just the spiritual waste and the evil ki it contains that gave Janemba this power.    Maybe it has something to do with the Tank Clerk as well, since he’s an oni.    Alone, he’s just a lowly subordinate of Yemma, but he must have some sort of power in matters of the living and the dead, and maybe all this evil ki amplified that to make him strong enough to thwart King Yemma.

But that only explains “how”.   There’s still the question of “why?”   It’s often pointed out that Janemba is a pretty weak villain because he doesn’t talk and he has no apparent goals or motives.   But I think that’s a common trait with a lot of Dragon Ball villains.  

Pilaf and Piccolo wanted to conquer the world, but I’m pretty sure both guys only said that because that’s such a stock answer.    It’s a vague expression of desire for power and control, but Pilaf can’t even run more than two people at a time, and Piccolo only wanted to rule the world so he could destroy its people and stick it to Kami.   I think you can lump in with that all the bad guys who wanted to be immortal:  Garlic Junior, Frieza, Vegeta.   Lord Slug only wished for youth, but that’s just because he lacked the imagination to wish or immortality.    The ultimate point was just to eliminate any threats to their existing power.  

Then you have guys like Turles and Dr. Wheelo, who only seemed to be interested in acquiring greater power for themselves.  There were hints in Movies 2 and 3 about what those guys would do with their power once they had enough.   Wheelo would probably continue doing evil experiments on the world, and Turtles maybe would have overthrown Frieza, but Turles strikes me as a free spirit, and he only wanted to be strong enough to keep guys like Frieza from hassling him.    For all we know, Dr. Wheelo only wanted Goku’s body because he missed having sex.   

Then you’ve got the revenge squad: Dr. Gero, Cooler, Crane Hermit, Paragus, Broly ‘93, Lord Jaguar, Babidi.   All of these guys wanted blood in exchange for some personal slight that really isn’t worth it.   Well, Jaguar didn’t actually want to kill anyone, but that only makes him an idiot.    You don’t clone an army of bio-warriors unless you want someone dead.  

The point I’m getting at here is that most of these guys have really lousy motivations, and that doesn’t even get into the villains with seemingly no motivations at all. 

Commander Red wanted to be taller, which is so stupid he kept it a secret because he knew it was stupid, and the only guy he told ended up shooting him in the face because of how stupid it was.   

Mercenary Tao was in it for money, even though he famously never paid for anything.  

Tien wanted to kill people because he looked up to killers until they started killing people he liked.

Android 17 and Cell wanted to have fun.   I’d throw 18 into that group, but honestly, I think she just sort of went along with whatever 17 did, which is almost sadder.

Who the hell knows what Bojack wanted?    He got killed before he could really spell it out. 

And then you have Majin Buu, who doesn’t even understand his own motivations.   He thought he only killed people for fun, and then when he decided it was wrong, he stopped, only to transform into another form who wanted to fight, and then another form who killed people for its own sake.

Now these are all really shitty motivations, and yet at the same time a lot of these guys are classic villains.   That’s because the thesis of Dragon Ball is that power without purpose is self-defeating.    Goku uses his strength to improve himself and help others.   The bad guys always try to use their power for selfish reasons, and it always leads to empty achievements.   Conquests they can’t enjoy, endless searches for fulfillment, and pointless scrambling for even greater power.    Any fool with a weapon can murder someone, so what difference does it make to rule the world or be the strongest in the universe if that’s all you know to do with your time?

What’s all of this have to do with Janemba?   Remember, he’s been possessed with evil ki from a multitude of wicked souls.    In other words, he’s got the distilled essence of the same thing that made all those other bad guys tick.    Frieza, King Piccolo, whoever your favorite is, Janemba’s got the same urges times a billion.   And this is what he’s become:

Just some goofy man-child-thing that only knows how to hit people and say his own name.   He’s powerful, sure, but he doesn’t know what to do with all that power.  I think it’s safe to assume he could do a lot more than we see in this movie, but this is as far as his imagination goes.   

And that does resemble Majin Buu in a lot of ways.   Let’s face it, Janemba is clearly a knockoff of Buu.    I don’t think that’s a big shocker from a movie series that gave us such bold ideas as “Evil Goku” and “Frieza’s Brother” and “More Androids.”

But I do think Janemba has a bit more to offer than that, because unlike Buu, we get to witness his origin.    Think about all the souls who went through that spirit cleansing machine.    All of their evil desires were stripped away and concentrated into Janemba.   What was their one common thought, the one sentiment that united them all?  What was the one experience they all shared and would want to avenge?    Here’s a hint:

I submit that Janemba represents the combined loathing of millions of souls towards King Yemma.   But Yemma’s not their enemy; he’s just doing his job.   The universe is designed to have Yemma pass judgement on the dead.    That’s just the way it works.    And once those damned souls pass through the cleanser, they can appreciate that with a newfound clarity.    But the evil residue they left behind?   That stuff is still sore about it.  

And, to a point, I think that spiritual waste can find a kindred spirit in Tank Clerk, since he’s also kind of frustrated with the Way Things Are.   He’d rather goof off and listen to his tunes, but he has to go to work and pay attention to his job.    That’s no one’s fault, that’s just life.   I don’t think Tank Clerk was ever angry about it, but the spirit waste comes from people who were, and when they got mixed together...

... You end up with a monster who’s made it his business to rebel against the natural order of the universe.   He traps King Yemma, but doing so causes dominoes to fall all over creation.    Maybe Janemba understands the consequences of this, or maybe he doesn’t, but he isn’t concerned with consequences.   He’s just lashing out like a child who’s mad that he can’t have his own way.    Well, your own way wrecks things for everyone else, Janemba, as we’ll soon see...

[daemour]

Of Royalty and Family - Chapter 1

It has been a couple weeks since Jiah arrived at the kingdom of Bangtan. In the most recent letter she received from Taeyong, he mentioned the trade agreement between Miraneo and Exola. As Taeyong and Jongin settle their agreement, Jiah and Namjoon start progress on their treaty. If Miraneo is willing to provide fish and limber, Bangtan will provide weaponry and stone. They both want travel between countries to be easy, and to back each other up in wars.

Now that the basics are down and all that's left are details and laws, Jiah can send a progress report back to Taeyong and Taeil. She pulls out some parchment and–

Jiah sighs at the knock and rises from her chair to open the door. Jungguk grins from right outside the frame, close enough to knock heads with Jiah. The two had become quite close over the course of two weeks, and Jungguk still reminds Jiah of someone she once knew. "Hello, Jungguk. What can I help you with?"

"Your Majesty." Jungguk drops into a quick bow and rises as soon as Jiah motions for him to do so. "You remember how Jimin and I have been dating for two weeks now?"

"Yes. Congratulations on being an official couple, but you told me already, and continue to do so at any chance you get. What did you need me for?" Jiah asks with a smile on her face.

"We're going to tell our families, but we don't want them to feel like they must have us for dinner. You're familiar with the custom that once someone's mate meets their family, they must make dinner for the couple?"

Jiah nods. "It's a little old-fashioned, but I do remember."

"Well, we've decided to bring someone else so they won't have to. I don't think Jimin could eat two dinners in one night." Jiah raises an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you would be happy to, though." Jungguk rolls his eyes.

"Shush. Please." He adds the please as an afterthought. "I want you to come with me!" Jiah blanched. Her? Why? As if he read her mind, Jungguk explains, "You encouraged me when I confided in you about Jimin! Also, Jimin is taking Taehyung, so I can't ask him."

Jiah sighs again and chuckles. "Glad to know I was your second choice," she jokes. "I'll come. Just let me know when."

Jungguk grins. "Thank you so much!" He hugs her, and Jiah pats his back. "I owe you one! I'll tell you when we're going as soon as I know when." Jiah nods, and Jungguk bounces away.

"Is he even allowed to hug you?" Jiah sighs inwardly. Beomjin had been talking to her at any chance he could get. "He's just a solider, and you're a queen." He smirks.

"He is my friend first and a soldier second. If he wants to hug me, so be it." Jiah answers. "Please excuse me. I must find King Namjoon." She hurries away, feeling Beomjin's eyes on her retreating figure.

The horseback ride to Jungguk's home town of Hwanggeum was a two-hour ride. Now, horseback riding was not Jiah's strong suit. Most Miraneans did not know how to ride horses since they lived in a forest, but all Royal Guards and royalty were required to learn. Jiah had skipped most of her lessons as a child and honestly regrets it now. Chittaphon had provided her with a gentle horse when she was leaving for Bangtan, thank goodness, but she still had trouble. Cutie, her horse, kept going in the wrong direction. On more than one occasion, Jungguk grabbed the reins to help Jiah guide Cutie. Thankfully, the trip wasn't too long. Jiah hopped off the horse and dusted off her pants. "That was some excellent riding showcased by the Queen of Miraneo." Jiah jabs Jungguk in the ribs.

"Be quiet, Jeon Jungguk. We live in the forest, where there is no need for horses," Jiah snaps but doesn't hold back her grin.

"Didn't you tell me you were required to learn how to ride a horse as a child?" Jungguk smirks.

"I skipped more lessons than I attended," Jiah mutters the next bit, "because I was scared of horses."

Unfortunately, Jungguk heard, but before he could tease her more, Jiah smacks him hard. "OKAY–" he yelps in pain "–time to find eomma!"

The town Jungguk lived in wasn't large, but it certainly was not small. People seemed to know him and kept stopping him. Jiah also saw a couple of girls whispering to one another while gawking. Jungguk didn't notice, much to Jiah's amusement.

Finally, they arrived at Jungguk's family home on the outskirts of town. Despite the location, the house was rather large. Jungguk walked up to the oak door and knocked. "Eomma? It's me, Jungguk." The door creaked open, and in front of Jungguk and Jiah stood a woman with a brilliant bunny smile on her face.

"Jungguk! You finally decided to visit your mother!" She notices Jiah and beams. "And you brought a girl!"

Jiah puts her hands up hurriedly. "Ah, no, sorry, ma'am. Jungguk and I aren't together. We're just friends."

The older woman sighs in disappointment. "That's all right. I didn't expect him to bring a girl home. What's your name, dear?"

"I'm Lee Jiah." Jiah excludes her title, not wanting to seem like she was bragging. She was a visitor, so it would be improper to talk about her title as well. "It's lovely to meet you, ma'am."

"You can call me Aunt Euna if you want." Jiah smiles kindly.

"Thank you."

Euna grasps her and Jungguk by the arm and pulls them inside. "Now, I'll get you two some tea, and you can explain why you decided to visit me so suddenly out of the blue."

Jiah looks at Jungguk, silently asking if he wants to tell his mother alone. He nods slightly, a thankful look in his eyes, and Jiah comes into the kitchen. "Here, let me help you, and you can Jungguk can talk," she offers, and Euna grins.

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart. The cups are in the cabinet to the left of the kettle." Euna hurries out of the room, and Jiah opens the cabinet. As she waits for the tea to boil, she can hear snippets of the conversation. Euna seems to take it well, judging from the laughs and the giggles coming from the room over.

As she looks around, a painting catches her eye. It's a picture of a younger, pregnant Euna. There is no mate shown. "Jiah, you can come back in now." Jiah hurries to grab the tea, thoughts forgotten.

"I assume you told her?" Jiah smiles at a blushing Jungguk and a beaming Euna.

"I did," Jungguk says, and Euna squeals again.

"Finally, my baby is getting married!" Jiah chuckles but lets Euna have her moment. "I thought he was going to be single forever!"

"Eomma, you're overreacting," Jungguk whines, but quiets after Euna shoots him a glare. "I mean, yes, it is so exciting that I am getting married."

Jiah laughs, but a knock at the door grabs the attention of everyone. "I can get it." Jiah offers, and Euna thanks her.

As Jiah makes her way through the hall, she gets a feeling in her gut but doesn't know what to make of it. She opens the door, and in front of her stands Taeil. "Jiah– I mean, Your Majesty–" Taeil pants, but Jiah cuts him off.

"Taeil? What are you doing here? Are you all right?" Jiah asks worriedly, looking him over.

"Is everything all right?" Euna and Jungguk come up behind her.

"Jiah, it's your brother. He's not well." At this, Jiah's mind runs at a hundred miles per hour.

"What do you mean?" Jiah asks urgently.

"He was going over some plans with Chittaphon when he fainted." Taeil talks hurriedly, faltering over his words. "You need to come back immediately. I already talked to the King and Queen. They offered to send Prince Yoongi along as well so that plans wouldn't be interrupted."

Jiah nods. "Yes, that is fine." She turns to Euna and Jungguk. "I apologize for the interruption."

Euna smiles slightly. "No, I understand. Please, make sure your brother is well."

Jungguk acts considerably more worried. "Do you need someone to go back with you?"

Taeil shakes his head. "No, Johnny and Mark will accompany her. They are waiting with the horses." Before the two Jeons can say more, Jiah excuses herself and hurries with Taeil to fetch Cutie. "The Prince will travel to Miraneo separately," Taeil informs Jiah as they mount their horses.

At that, Jiah, Taeil, Johnny, and Mark head west. The journey between Bangtan and Miraneo takes three days, so Jiah arrived later than she had wished. As soon as she reached the castle, she ran inside to find Taeyong. "Where is he?" She quickly asks the nearest attendant, Donghyuk. "Where's my brother?" Donghyuk tells her.

"He's in your room, my lady. Welcome home." Jiah darts in that direction as Taeil thanks Donghyuk.

"Taeyong!" Jiah calls as she bursts into her room. Her brother lays on her bed, pale, but still smiles weakly at her.

"How was your journey back, Ji?" He calls her by her pet name, and Jiah smiles in spite of herself.

"Grandpa, I believe there are more pressing matters at hand."

Taeyong glowers. "I had white hair for a month. One month, Ji, not an entire year–" Taeyong is cut off from his rant by a fit of coughing.

"Okay, I won't mention your hair again," Jiah quickly amends, "Now, what's wrong with you? You seemed perfectly healthy last time I saw you when you were trying to pull my scarf off of me."

Taeyong sighed. "I was healthy. But I saw the doctor, and he said–"

A servant, Jisung, opens the door. "Your Majesties, I'm sorry to interrupt, but the Prince of Bangtan is here. Would you like to let him in?"

Jiah and Taeyong both nod. "Yes, thank you, Jisung."

The said boy nods, and steps out of sight and mumbles something. Then  Yoongi strides in the door. "Your Majesties." He bows deeply. "I am sorry about your health, Your Majesty. Thank you for letting me stay here."

Taeyong nods slightly. "Thank you. I am sorry I am unable to show you around the kingdom, as the doctor has put me on bed rest. Jiah will have to do so. I hope you understand. Please make yourself at home.

"However, I must tell Jiah and you what happened, I presume. During a meeting with Ten, I had collapsed. I'm sure Taeil told you. The doctor had seen no signs of my health declining, but my heart had stopped. By all accounts, I should be dead. The seer scried me, and it appears that I am under a curse."

"A what now?"

"Curse is a noun. It means a solemn utterance intended to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something."

"Oh shut up, Tae." Jiah smacks his arm lightly. "Who cursed you?" Taehyung giggles but soon becomes solemn.

"Well, I don't know. The seer tried to follow the curse back to its roots by scrying, but Yeri wasn't able to go back. Someone or something was blocking the trace. Yeri believes it might be a charm or magic stone blocking the path. She was able to trace it to the, um, the Bangtan Kingdom." Taeyong says, quieting down at the last phrase.

Yoongi scowled. "God, we just got out of that horrible reign of Lord Beomyun, and someone already cursed a ruler of a different kingdom. I will write to my brother and see if he can do something about it."

"Thank you. I hope this does not affect our future alliance with Bangtan." Taeyong says, bowing his head again.

Yoongi smiles. "My brother is not unreasonable," he says, "so I'm sure he will continue to strive towards our alliance."

Jiah nods and smiles. "Thank you, Prince Yoongi." Jiah looks out the door and beckons to the closest servant. "Jeno will take you to your room."

Yoongi nods and leaves after bowing politely. Jiah sits on Taeyong's bed with a sigh. "This is not how I thought my trip would turn out," she remarked. "I thought it would be a nice relaxing trip, but I assume life doesn't want that."

Taeyong smiles gently at her and pats her. "Yeri will be able to identify what kind of curse it is soon, Jiah. Do not worry so much." Jiah sighs and stands to leave the room.

"I will try." She leaves, and Taeyong sighs before settling back onto his bed and falling asleep.

[rainbows-fanfics]

Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 1)

Summary:

Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, meets Sally, a ragdoll created by Dr. Finklestein. A friendship blossoms between them as he introduces her to the world outside of her tower. Sally is falling for him as their relationship grows into something more, and Jack finds the same is happening to him.

A story where the Christmas incident never happens, and Jack and Sally find their happiness on their own.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally

A pair of small black heels trace the side of the metallic floor. A ragdoll sits on the bed placed to the side of the room. She is tall and wears a stitched, multicolored dress made out of spare cloth. Her hair is made of red yarn and comes all the way to her lower back. Her skin consists of blue cloth that is stitched accordingly along her body. Long, black eyelashes are attached to the ends of her eyelids and adds a feminine touch to the doll. Sally Finklestein looks down and observes the nuts and bolts mounted to the floor. Her room is fairly empty, save for a desk that contains her sewing machine and a closet to the side, filled with all of her creations. A bright line shines through the bars placed on her window and provides several rays of the pumpkin sun. The light catches her attention. She goes to the window to watch the busy scene of the streets beneath the tower. Many monsters and creatures are walking on the sidewalks, varying from simple witches to grotesque beings. They are all citizens of Halloween Town and were to fulfill their duty of scaring the living. At least - that's what she knew. From afar, she can see the Skellington Manor. The mansion that towers over all of Halloween Town. It is residency to the King. One she has never set foot in, but can see the King's observatory from her own window. Some nights she would watch the tall man pace around in that room for hours. "Sally!" The ragdoll sits up in her bed. She clasps her hands in her lap and looks to the door attentively. The Doctor's wheelchair buzzes as he makes his way up the ramps. She hears the heavy lock come off and he soon comes in. Doctor Finklestein is her creator and the town's mad scientist. He has a large bowl-like head with nuts and screws holding it in place. He is able to remove it off its hinge and just to scratch at his brain. It is bad habit of his, but Sally says very little about it. He always wears his usual lab coat and white pants, for he is not able to leave his wheelchair. "I want you to be on your best behavior today, you hear me?" He asks. His voice is raspy and she flinches at the sound of it. "Yes, Doctor." "And you promise not to be bothersome to Jack, correct?" "Yes, Doctor." "-You know what that means, right?" His glasses shimmer. "No pestering him about questions, no speaking unless you're spoken to, and you are to keep your manners in order. If you do not follow these rules, you will not be seeing him again. Do you understand me?" Sally gives him another nod. He sighs and leaves the room, quickly wheeling himself out of sight. He purposefully leaves her door open but she isn't brave enough to leave. She was afraid of being scolded for coming out to soon, or doing something wrong like she had last time. She only gets up when she hears him calling for her. The ragdoll hangs onto the side of the rail to keep herself steady. Walking was such a trouble. She makes her way down into the main room and finds the Doctor waiting impatiently at the bottom. Beside him is a tall skeleton, who is smiling at her expectantly. The skeleton is wearing a pinstriped suit that compliments his skinny body. A bat bow tie is placed around his neck with its wings spread out to his shoulders. A wide, stitched smile spreads across his skull. He is the king of Halloween Town, Jack Skellington.

His eye sockets meet with her black pupils for a few seconds. The skeleton leans down to whisper something to the Doctor. Wanting to know what's he's saying, Sally heads down the ramp at a faster rate. She nearly stumbles over and catches herself at the last second. The Doctor leans forward angrily while the tall figure eyes her with worry. "Careful!" Finklestein exclaims. "I just sewed you together! Please, Sally, keep your footing in front of company." The ragdoll tenses. She corrects her posture as directed and makes her way down. She heads towards the two and gives the tall man a respectful curtsy. She lifts up the ends of her dress and bows awkwardly. She still isn't accustomed to greeting anyone. She says, "Your highness...." "Please, Sally." He motions for her to stand. "Just call me Jack." She looks down at the ground shamefully. "I'm sorry..." "You better be." The Doctor snaps. "Now let's head into the kitchen, shall we?" Jack lets the Doctor go ahead and faces her, giving the ragdoll a smile. He turns back around and follows into the kitchen, ushering Sally to follow behind them and keep her pace. He must notice her struggles with walking. In the kitchen, Igor is brewing tea and has a plate of cookies. The Doctor gives his assistant a pleased look and turns around to glare at his creation. Sally distances herself from the King as he takes a seat at the head of the table. Finklestein makes no move of protest for his spot and settles at the other side. Jack takes one of the cookies off from the plate and bites it down in one go. Sally looks and finds Igor fidgeting with his hands in the background, eagerly waiting for a response from the important man. "Very delicious!" He compliments. "It feels like it's been forever since I've had spider berry cookies..." Igor seems satisfied and takes the kettle off from the stove. He fills the glasses around the table with tea. She quietly thanks him when he fills hers and returns it on the stove. Finklestein discreetly hands him one of his biscuits from under the table and the assistant is all too happy to chew it down. Sally, meanwhile, wraps her hand around her cup and stares at the liquid inside quietly. "I apologize for coming so late, Doctor. I meant to make an arrangement earlier, but things just came up and all." Jack tells him. To Sally's surprise, he waves it off. "It's no trouble, my boy. I know how busy you are, and we are grateful you came as it is." The skeleton turns his attention to her. "I hope you can forgive me, too, Sally. The whole point of me coming was to welcome you to Halloween Town." She looks up from her cup of tea in surprise. Never in a million of years would she have assumed the King was here for her. She is unconsciously left to gawk at him, at a loss for words, until she hears Finklestein clear his throat at her lack of answer.  A sign that she would be scolded for this later. "-Yes, well, I'm sure she forgives you. I wanted to speak to you about next year's project if you have the time?" "How splendid! Unfortunately, I can't do that today. I have an arrangement with Sally today, if you haven't forgotten." She had been deflated in her chair until she hears the mention of her name, to which she perks up. An arrangement? The Doctor never mentioned such a thing. She turns to him and finds Finklestein choking on a piece of a cookie. He punches his chest and coughs loudly. "Yes, well - ah, you see....I'm afraid I am going to have to cancel that. Sally is a very busy girl; she cooks and cleans for us. And as you can see, this place is very dusty today -" Jack holds up a large hand to stop the Doctor mid-sentence. He falls silent at his act of authority. She watches the two with her jaw agape. She has never seen him act such a way around anyone, as HE was the one who usually had the upper hand with people. It is...new, to say at the least. "I'd much rather hear from Sally herself, if you don't mind." She goes quiet at the sudden attention, the gaze of her creator and her King making her hunch her shoulders. She notices the scowl on Finklestein's face and quietly ponders on what to say. She would not to say something wrong - that would surely leave her a punishment - but, then again, she shouldn't leave Jack hanging. He was waiting for her answer- "I'm afraid that she cannot go." There is a small amount of spite that leaves his voice, most likely angered by the lack of her response. Again. The two of them look over and find the Doctor fiddling with his cup's handle. He notices the attention and clears his throat, avoiding the King's eye sockets. "I respect that you care for everyone in the town, but Sally here is just....not ready." "Not ready?" He repeats. "I created her only 2 months ago. I want to have her study the basics of living before she can go out into town. I need about a year for her until she is able to come outside." Jack's smile fades as he thinks of what to say. Sally finds herself both embarrassed and angry at the Doctor's response. She could have prevented this by simply saying something - but at the same time, it wasn't any of his right to decide FOR her.  She could never argue with him, but Jack could. Finklestein was only a commoner compared to him, right? "Pardon me for saying this, Doctor...But that was the most ridiculous thing I've heard." "Excuse me?" "If you really want Sally here to understand the aspects of Halloween Town, you must bring her outside so she knows what she's dealing with. This isn't the human world, you know. Some of the creatures here are far too ecstatic and she needs to understand that they can scare her at any time. The books you're making her read are far too outdated with these times." He looks over at her for a moment, adding: "-And from what it sounds, Sally must be clever if she's already cooking and cleaning. Surely she must be ready to meet the other townspeople by now?" The ragdoll is breathless, gawking at his words. The three of them sit in silence as the tension lingers about the room. Sally fidgets with her cup until she brings up the courage to speak. "I....I think I'm ready, Doctor...If Jack thinks I can, then maybe I could-" "You may take her." Finklestein ignores her. "But I do NOT want my creation outside of this tower for too long." Jack grins at this information and stands in his chair. He nearly hits his skull at the low ceiling but ducks before he can. "-Glad I could get through to you, Doctor. I assure you that she will be in safe hands, and that she will return as soon as we are done." The skeleton makes his way around the table to offer a hand to her. The ragdoll looks for Finklestein's approval and finds that his gaze is nowhere near hers. She accepts Jack's hand as he helps her stand in an instant. The force causes her to almost lose her balance but his grip tightens to support her. The ragdoll clutches onto him as he leads her out from the kitchen. She finds herself stumbling on the way, relying on Jack's arm more than anything in the world, but as soon as she looks up, she is in Halloween Town. --- The first step they need to take is getting down the stairs. Which is not a problem if you weren't Sally. She's only been up them once, and even then she had the Doctor's wheelchair to balance on. All she has now was the King's hand that was getting farther away from her as the seconds came by. She grabbed for it out of panic and used it to help her down. She finds him looking at her curiously, and removes her hand before he can say anything. There is a blush forming on her cheeks. She recognized this feeling - embarrassment. She already failed to talk to Jack two times now. He must be thinking very poorly of her. And the Doctor...oh, dear. She was sure she'd get an earful from him when she came back. A voice drags her from her thoughts before she they get any deeper. "Thank you. For coming with me." She turns to him and bows her head. "Th-thank you for having me." Her eyes slowly creep over to his figure. The way he walks is intriguing. His long legs enable him to take much farther steps than hers, yet he was able to keep with her slow pace easily. He catches her staring and she quickly looks away, pretending to be interested in the wall beside her. "I don't know what Finklestein has told you before, but Halloween Town is not as bad as he may make it out to be. Many of the people here are friendly and will be happy to meet you, I assure." She fidgets with her hands. She was so nervous and didn't know where to begin. She spent so long staring at his house that she almost forgot he was real. His presence made her leaves tingle and her mind race. He was so...so much more elegant and attractive than she'd have ever imagined. His voice was angelic, his smile was contagious, and something about the way he moved just...fascinated her. "I hope it's not rude to say, but you are awfully shy." She blushes at the term and looks away. "The Doctor told me not to speak unless spoken to." "Yes, while those are good manners, you shouldn't be afraid of talking to me. Ask as many questions as you want and I will answer them as best as I can. Alright?" She nods without even thinking. The Doctor told her otherwise -- that she shouldn't be curious with businesses that weren't hers, and it was rude to be, but Jack seems alright with it. Perhaps...maybe....she could- "I am very sorry, by the way." He says. He notices his abruptness and clarifies. "For what happened, when we met. I apologize you were in that situation. If I'd have known-" "Oh, no, it's perfectly alright," She assures. He must be talking about her getting taken by those children and threatened by that...scary man. While the incident still shakes her, she was still grateful he rescued her when he did. They suddenly approach a gate, which open the moment Jack steps towards it. Sally follows behind and gasps at the sight of the town's marketplace. So many monsters are walking around and there ware dozens of shops and stands. From afar she can see the town's famous fountain. Some people begin to call out for Jack. She doesn't even realize it until he starts to lead her through the crowds, acknowledging them briefly as they pass by. Once they are out of the way, the skeleton let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry about that, Sally. It gets really crowded in the middle of the day! I really should have considered that and rescheduled..." "Oh, no, it's fine." The words she means to think accidentally come out of her mouth. "I'm so glad to be away. This is the first time I've left the tower..." She slaps her hand over her mouth in surprise. Jack, however, has already heard it, and is tilting his skull curiously at her. "Is it? How peculiar. I'd...have thought the Doctor would let you out by now." He pinches his lips together. "Why doesn't he?" He notices her surprised expression. "If you don't mind me asking, of course..." "I....he...." Her voice falters and she closes her eyes. When she opens them, she finds Jack frowning at her. He decides to change the topic and rests a hand on her shoulder, gently turning the two of them so they were facing the shops again. "You cook for Finklestein, is that correct?" She nods. "You might want to give that one shop in the middle a visit. It sells all kinds of spices and ingredients. But between you and me, you can get the same stuff very easily for no cost in the graveyard." They both continue. Sally doesn't realize how close an eye Jack is keeping on her. Her body seems very feeble; it would be very easy to have her swept away in the crowd. And even he knows that it would take her awhile to recover from a fall. Without a word, he takes her arm and politely leads her through, glancing every so often just to make sure she is still with him. It doesn't take long before she succumbs to the monsters pushing against her. When he feels her start to fall, he takes a grip of her hand, but finds that it comes off completely. Against his instincts, he jumps, and lets the arm fall to the ground. A child kicks it, which sends it into the crowd. He finds Sally on the ground right behind him, and leans down to help her back up. "Oh, dear..." Jack exclaims. "Are you okay? I'm very, very sorry-" "Help me look for it! Please?" She goes on her knees to desperately search about the floor. He notices the leaves escaping the hole in her arm. He ducks down and starts to gather the ones that had fallen, all before he spots a patch of blue. He picks it up and finds the hand waving at him in return. Numbly, he turns back to her. "I've got your arm..." "Oh! Thank you!" She takes it from him and sits on a nearby bench. He watches as she takes some thread from her dress pocket and a needle from behind her ear. Then, she stitches her arm back on, knots the end of the thread, and returns the items back in their proper place. When she looks up, she finds him eying her rather curiously. His hand was on top of his mouth, looking as if he was contemplating something. She looks away from him, feeling her hair cover her face. That may be as well - she was incredibly embarrassed...she lost her arm in front of her King! "I...I'm sorry..." She apologizes. "No need to be sorry." He shakes  his skull. "It's just..." He takes a seat next to her and observes her arm. She blushes as his fingers trail over her stitches and rubs her cheek shyly. Was he really...touching her? This was the first time anyone besides the Doctor has laid a finger on her. His hand is so warm, and incredibly bigger than hers. She watches as he slowly lets go, his look full of wonder and interest. "That's an amazing talent you have" "Talent?" She repeats. "You...think it's a talent?" "Of course! You can do all sorts of things with dismembered limbs." His smile grows, and she finds some sort of childish excitement in his eye sockets. He calms himself down before she can see more. "Never mind. We should be-" "JAAAAAACCKK!" A loud voice suddenly pierces everyone's ears. The skeleton and ragdoll turn around. They find someone running towards them, their face obscured by the overwhelming amount of things that they are holding. Jack helps Sally from her seat and leads her towards the figure. He motions down the papers and reveals the Mayor's stressed face from behind them.   "Jack, there you are!" He exclaims. "I've been looking for you ALL MORNING! We were supposed to go over the plans for the Pumpkin Pa-" The Mayor stops when his eyes land on Sally. She brushes her hair behind her shoulder shyly. She's only seen this man once before - she couldn't quite remember his name. Though, the big badge on his chest helps her remember. He takes a step forward and bows politely. "Hello there, Sally Finklestein!" He tips his hat. "I haven't seen you in awhile." "Yes...I have not seen you, either." She replies awkwardly. Jack notices the tension and coughs to get Mayor's attention again. "We were just about to head to the Graveyard. If you don't mind, Mayor, I could really-" "Jack, I need you to help me sort out the plans for this year! It's urgent, and I need your signature for some very important documents!" He places a hand on his pelvis and swipes one of the papers out from his hands impatiently. "Aren't these the same plans as last year's?" "No! We've got suggestions on carving cats instead of bats! I could really use your help!" The skeleton places a hand on his skull and exhales sharply. With defeat, he returns the paper and replies, "I'll meet you in the Town Hall." The Mayor, satisfied with this response, runs into the direction of the Town Hall. The two of them watch as he slams the doors on his way in. Jack lets out a stressed sigh and tugs at his suit. She takes a bashful step towards him, struggling with letting the words out of her mouth. This would be the first time she's spoken on her own. "I...don't mind coming with you..." She confesses. "You really should." Jack shakes his skull and smiles. "The Town Hall wasn't apart of my plans. And I really don't want to bore you." "It's fine, your high-...I mean Jack. I'll just wait until you're done." She gives him a patient smile, to which he returns. He mutters an 'alright' and starts leading her there. When they approach the stairs, Sally freezes in her tracks. Oh, why did she agree to this? She's going to trip and lose a leg and embarrass herself in front of Jack again... "I see you have a problem with stairs." She glances up and finds him in front of her again. He's wearing a patient smile and is offering her his arm. "-If you need help, I can gladly be of assistance." She bits her lip and eyes his arm worriedly. "Are...you sure?" "But of course. It's my duty as a gentleman." She hesitates, wondering just how to take his arm. It wasn't out of desperation like last time - he was inviting her. And she's never had anyone do that before. She moves her hand uncertainly to it. Jack notices and slowly guides it through the space, resting her arm in his. His smile encourages her, and with his help, she climbs up the stairs with no problem. He removes his arm from hers as they reach the top. He opens the door and politely holds it open for her. She blushes again and ducks her head as she enters inside. Within two steps, she was already mesmerized by what she saw. There is a big stage in the center of the room, shielded by a black curtain. There were many rows of empty seats in front of it and she can hear monsters moving around upstairs. Jack places a hand on her back and ushers her to the side. She realizes how many people are in there and is thankful he moved her when he did. He leans down in front of her and gets her attention. Something beats in her chest being in such close proximity to him. "Now, Sally, I don't know how long I'm going to be gone, but I promise I'll be back. In the meantime, feel free to look around and make some friends. If anyone asks, tell them you're here with me. Is that okay?" It really wasn't. This was her first time outside of the tower, which would mean this would also be her first time making...what was it? Friends? Regardless, she nods. The King dismisses himself from her and disappears up the stairs. He leaves the ragdoll on her own, who eyes her surroundings wearily. She recognizes the feeling boiling in her stomach, the swelling of her chest and the uneasiness that's crawling up her back. She is scared.

[shoelace-noose]

#078 | Truth

Mike Dodds/Klaus Hargreeves. Mike and Klaus get out of rehab.

Word Count: 1598

When Mike gets out of rehab, he has an apartment to go back to, a friend who’s been watering his plants and picks him up at the front door to say how proud of him he is. In spite of all the fucked up shit he’s gone through, there’s people and a place he can go to. He has a whole network of support for days when the craving hits hard, or his depression feels insurmountable.

But Klaus has nothing and no one. He was homeless before his third OD in a week had him forced into rehab, and his only friend besides Mike is his dead brother Ben, who he claims to still be able to see and talk to. The doctors referred him to a psychiatrist, but Klaus refused to do anything but talk in circles and lies and anything to keep from being forced to confront his issues. He’s like that, a mess and completely resistant to help. And it’s intoxicating enough that when they both hit thirty days at the same time, Mike offers him the couch in his living room.

The two of them walk out together, arm in arm as Klaus twitches with the need for a fix and talks in irritation to someone Mike can’t see, both holding their little plastic hospital bags of belongings that had been confiscated or otherwise stowed while they served their sentences. Peter is standing out front, leaning against his car with a smile on his face. A smile that quickly drops when he sees Klaus.

“You made it,” Peter says, pulling him into a hug, but unable to tear his eyes away from Klaus, who’s still talking to thin air. “And this is…?”

“Klaus. I offered him a place to stay while he gets back on his feet, he doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

Of anyone Mike has ever met, Peter is the most patient and understanding when it comes to mental illness, especially the scary ones. It’s probably because of his sister, and the way she went through life. Does Peter ever wonder if she would have turned to substance abuse, had she not gotten the help she needed early on? Would she have turned out like Klaus, drowning in drugs or hallucinations or both?

“Peter,” Peter says, holding a hand out for Klaus to shake.

For a long moment, Klaus just looks between him and the same empty spot he’s been speaking to all morning beside him. “Was she your sister?”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman beside you. Blonde. Looks like you. Covered in blood. Was she your sister?”

All the color drains from Peter’s face. He then silently gets into the driver’s seat, and does not respond. Klaus has a tendency to figure out how to hurt people, but it’s always general insecurities, stuff Mike picks up on from body language once Klaus points it out. This is too specific. It sets off alarm bells in Mike’s mind, the way they go when a suspect knows just a little too much about the case at hand. But obviously Klaus had nothing to do with Pam’s death, so what the fuck?

When the two of them slip into the backseat, Klaus choosing the middle because he insists his brother is sitting with him but he wanted to sit next to Mike as well, it’s time to ask questions. Mike hasn’t missed it, but something deep down says he has to.

“What were you talking about?” He hisses through his teeth.

Klaus laughs a little and plays with the medical bracelet curled around his wrist. “I told you, I talk to the dead. Apparently your boyfriend’s dead sister is still following him around, so.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mike argues, as if that’s the important part of this. “And Klaus, you know that’s impossible-”

“Did you ever read ‘Extra Ordinary’ by Vanya Hargreeves? Her sweet little biography of the Umbrella Academy.”

No, he hasn’t, but it was big news when the previously unknown Number Seven spilled all the dirty little secrets the Hargreeves children underwent. There were sections about the family as a whole, and about each individual child. Number Four, Klaus, was the academy disgrace even before the book was published. Tabloids ran articles about him getting high during missions, and getting drunk on the streets as a teenager. Rumor has it that Four did it to suppress his powers because of how overwhelming they were, that Six joined him too for the same reasons before his death.

The dots connect. Four. Klaus. And his dead brother. Ben. Six. Holy shit. No wonder Klaus is so distrustful and constantly chasing after any high to get rid of the voices in his head, the voices that must be so much worse if they’re real and not a hallucination he can learn to deal with. Guilt at not believing Klaus the first time washes over him, but comforting Klaus is more important.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. At least I’ve got Ben to keep me company when everyone screams! Fun fact, a lot of people off themselves in rehab, did you know that?”

“Jesus-”

“No, I said it was Ben. Oh, by the way, Ben likes you. He thinks you’re very dependable and nice and…” Klaus squints and looks at the empty seat he insisted had to be left for Ben. “Oh, Benny, that’s so dirty-”

“Klaus,” Mike says gently, the way he always does when Klaus gets caught up talking to himself.

“Okay, fine, he didn’t say anything dirty. He just wanted me to tell you he thinks your eyes are pretty.”

Funny that Klaus blames that particular phrase on Ben, when he’s said it to Mike in the middle of the night when the nightmares are keeping them from sleep many a time. He’s always too tired to remember the conversations in the morning, but he says the company help. Once he admitted that people only pay attention to him when they want something for him, accompanied by a very lewd gesture. It set off alarm bells too, but a different kind. Mike hasn’t been in the NYPD, in SVU, for a good five years, but he never forgets the kind of pain he saw. Pain no one, especially not Klaus, deserves.

“Do any of your family know you were there?” Peter asks, suddenly reminding Mike that he’s in the car. “Or that you’re homeless?”

Klaus laughs, but it’s wrong. Broken. “No, of course not. Except for Ben, I don’t see them, like, ever. They all pretend I don’t exist. Oh, oh, except for Diego. We run into each other every now and then. He beats up my dealer, tells me to get sober. Yanno, real fun family bonding time. Fun fact, he usually picks me up when I leave rehab to try and keep me from getting high right away, but this last time when I OD’d and he drove me to the ER, right? He found me in the alley, it was this whole thing- but I expected him to be there when I woke up, and he wasn’t. The nurses said he wanted ‘em to tell me he wasn’t gonna come back.”

At the very end, his voice goes small and fragile. All he wants to do is hold him, comfort him, make it all better. Some very protective part of Mike in the back of his head says to start a fight with Diego, but he’s working on controlling those sort of impulses so he doesn’t act on them. That’s something else he started working through at rehab. He doesn’t need the high to control himself, he can do that on his own, all that stuff. And he’s got a couple shiny new prescriptions for bipolar with depressive tendencies- which he’s trying to remember to take even though they remind him a lot of obsessively popping xanax to make it go away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I deserve it.”

“No one deserves that,” Peter adds from the front seat. “They’re family, they’re supposed to love you no matter what.”

“Bold of you to assume they loved me in the first place. Honestly, I don’t even think any of us are capable of it, Daddy really fucked us up with the whole ‘torture and isolation and perving’ thing he had going on.”

The car jerks suddenly, swerving off to the shoulder and stopping too fast. Peter turns in his seat to look at Klaus with the same intensity he looks at case files with. Even knowing it comes from a place of concern, it’s enough to make Mike shrink back in his seat. But Klaus just stares at him with mild curiosity.

“What?”

“‘Perving?’ What did your father do?”

Klaus seems stricken by his own words and turns to the seat beside him again, listening to Ben’s input on the whole thing. As far as Mike has seen, Ben is usually the voice of reason for him.

“Calm down, he just had these freaky cameras everywhere, always watching. There was one in the bathroom, even. Five found it when we were like, twelve, and broke it. It never got replaced, or at least, not that I know. And to think, all this time the great Reginald Hargreeves acted like I was the slut who couldn’t control myself.”

“Klaus, that’s not okay,” Mike says in the calmest voice he can muster.

“Nothing in my life ever has been, so there.”

The car starts again, and they continue the drive back to Mike’s apartment, Klaus carrying on a one sided conversation- argument really- the whole way.

[flavourlessfiction]

Ice Melts When Heated ~ Chapter 4

Relationships: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Skating, figure skating, Rivals, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies is a slight overstatement tho, Banter, Time Skips, Rating May Change

Ao3: x

To: Bruce

Hi Bruce, I’m back in Gotham but my left hamstring’s been feeling extra tight and sore since the gala… 15 hour flight didn’t help. Not coming in until I get it looked at. Will bring a written in a day or two if you want it. Tim

A text probably wasn’t the appropriate method of communication, but then again, a text going the other way in the past week would have been nice. Would have made him feel slightly supported.

His hamstring wasn’t even remotely sore. He just needed a few days to cool off, to listen to his parents tell him to give up skating and focus on school and go to college. Then finally be able to rest and reassess what he was going to do about Worlds.

He couldn’t continue down the path that Bruce had laid out for him, yeah, he had another silver medal and a national title that no one considered valid considering the top skater wasn’t actually there. He was always going to be in Jason and Dick’s shadows for the way he came through, he had the potential to eclipse Jason however, and Bruce wasn’t giving him the time of day to do so. All his mom had done when he got home was hug him, said nothing, just allowed him to go up to his room to rest. He was surprised she’d come home before he had, having set out on another work trip a few weeks ago.

It was always possible she’d come home because of what happened. They might not have always been around, but they certainly cared about their only child, which was why they wanted him to give skating up. There were people out there who thought it was because they didn’t understand or because they didn’t value the sport. It had always been for the betterment of their child, to give him a long-lasting career, to stop the injuries even though so far they’d only been minor. Jack Drake was by no means a fan of Bruce but they both still supported him financially and attended whatever competitions they could.

They weren’t bad parents, they’d just been absent and people interpreted that as neglect even though it had allowed Tim skate whenever he pleased as a kid and he always had a nanny taking care of his more important needs. They were good people who loved their son, they were just incredibly busy. “Are you going to see a physiotherapist or a chiropractor, or are you avoiding the rink, darling?” A fair question if ever there was one, he didn’t realise she’d seen him messaging Bruce, or perhaps she’d seen the bruising on his back when she’d tried to wake him up this morning.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer, he hadn’t booked in an appointment and he didn’t need to go, he was essentially paying for a professional to lie on paper and waste half an hour or so. He’d said he would bring a written in though. Which meant he’d have to see someone and not seeing a specialist would be a giveaway that he lied. That he just needed some time away from them. From Bruce and Damian especially. “I’ll book an appointment in a bit. I don’t think they can do much about wounded pride though.” He mumbled, leaning into the breakfast bar as he played with his cereal. Typically he wouldn’t admit that, there was no point in stating the obvious but he needed his mother to know that he wasn’t struggling as much as he looked.

Even though it was a terrible idea and he still cringed at the thought, going out and getting drunk had been good for him, had distracted him for long enough to give him some sort of release. “You have one more competition for the year, right?”

“Unless I have to prove I’m mentally fit for another major comp.” Tim looked up at his mother, offering a small smile, he was sure she didn’t find it amusing but it was still worth a shot. “It’s in Oslo if you’re interested in going, the first weekend of April.”

She looked like she at least appreciated the soft invitation, it wasn’t often they really talked about skating in a positive light. He tended to assume that his parents wouldn’t ever be able to attend and they didn’t quite understand the skills or opinions he had. “I believe we’ve planned to be in Europe at the time, so we’ll try to be there for you.” It wasn’t an outright yes or no, but it meant the possibility that they would attend, hopefully he’d be back in form by then. “I’ll be returning to your father the day after tomorrow, we’re going to be in the south of Mexico. If anything happens we might not be easy to contact but you should still attempt to.” There it was, the short visit with a goodbye that featured nothing more than a ‘call if you need anything’, it could be worse, being able to see her was good enough. She hadn’t needed to come back but she did.

“Nothing’s going to happen, I just need a few days and then I’ll go back and pretend to be okay with everything.” Key word being pretend. There was no being okay with any of this but he still needed to act the part or else face scrutiny for being ungrateful for years of training under Bruce. His mother’s expression told him that he didn’t inspire confidence in her.

“Honey, you don’t have to stay with Bruce, I know you’re not comfortable with the idea of Ra’s or Talia coaching you but there are other coaches, you have options.” Two gentle hands rested on his shoulders, if his father said it, it wouldn’t be as delicately put. He wasn’t sure as to what Janet Drake’s feelings about Bruce were but they’d certainly gotten more negative over the past year. “We’ll support you no matter what but you need to stick up for yourself more, you’ve got that bite in you, everyone sees it when you go against that Jason Todd.” So she’d read the Vale article, or she’d seen the warm up. He didn’t know if it was captured on camera but it certainly wasn’t his finest moment as a human. Although Jason as a competitor brought out a nasty side of him at times.

As a person… well that was also a different side all together as well.  Where there any real options though? Bruce’s name carried a lot of weight, more than most coaches and whilst it wasn’t fair a move would likely have an effect on his scores. “I can’t just change in the middle of the season, it’s something to think about in April and May.” It was something to think about.

It wasn’t even Bruce that was the problem, it was Damian, which in turn made Bruce a problem. Everyone could see it and whilst Dick had tried to keep the peace he could tell even Dick was struggling to know what to do. At least Dick had bothered to call him after the short program and whilst Tim had intentionally missed his calls after the free, he was sure the other understood. He didn’t have to say much for Dick to pick up on what was going on in his head, it was why he enjoyed working with him so much, Dick knew how to pull people out of a funk without any sort of hesitation.

He probably should at least call Dick, it would also send a pretty clear message to Bruce, that is if Bruce even bothered to care.

He should definitely call Dick, not to be spiteful towards Bruce but to make sure the other knew he was back and that he wasn’t mad at him. “I’m going to call someone… Could you see if my regular physio has any time tomorrow or Thursday, if you need to do things, I can call after.” He said softly, putting the bowl of cereal in the sink, not quite finished, bored of shovelling it into his mouth or stirring it around.

“I’ll do it. Make whatever calls you need.” She waved him off as Tim picked his phone up off the counter, taking slow steps towards the stairs, he might not have been injured but the bruising on his back did hurt if he moved too quickly or in the wrong way.

Tim tapped on Dick’s contact number as soon as he entered his room, adjusting the pillows that sat on the seat built into the window so that they were against the wall, resting back against them, he really would need to unpack today or tomorrow, sort out what to do with the gifts that had come from fans. “Tim, hey!” Loud as always. At least Dick sounded happy to hear from him.

“You’re not busy, are you?” He didn’t need to speak softly but he could hear the music in the background, there was always some sort of music playing, but if Dick was taking a call when he should be working he’d feel guilty.

“Nah, what’s up, Bruce said you might have hurt yourself and aren’t coming in for a few days?” Well at least Bruce had read the text message even though he hadn’t bothered to respond to it. Radio silence wasn’t exactly helping his attitude towards his coach.

“Ah yeah… Mom said she’s going to book an appointment to see if I am going to have to rest it for longer.”

“You’ll be fine, I’ve seen you bounce back before, they’ll just tell you to stop with any extensions that strain it.” Always so confident, he was sure Dick had his fair share of injuries and soreness although he rarely made any comments on it. There was an exaggerated gasp on the other end of the line, Tim rolling his eyes, Dick tended to react more so than the average person when seeing something he liked. “Holy shit! I never thought I’d see you in here again…” There was some chatter, Tim not able to make out who was speaking. He certainly was curious. “Hey, did you know-” He was cut off again, some muffled noises that he was sure sounded like Dick. “Okay fine! Sorry man, I have to go, we’ll talk properly when you bring in your doctor’s excuse for teacher.”

“Yeah that’s okay, I wasn’t even sure you’d be free so get back to work, I’ll see you before Friday hopefully.” Dick was gone without another word, whatever or whomever had come in obviously needing him immediately.

“You’ll be fine, I’ve seen you bounce back before, they’ll just tell you to stop with any extensions that strain it.” Dick leaned back in his chair, unable to wipe the smile off his face, Tim sounded normal at least. Quiet, sure but that quiet nature that was more obvious when he was younger had reared its head throughout this season. He’d just hoped that Tim wasn’t still utterly crushed like he had looked after the free skate. He might have masked it at the Gala but Dick was sure that it was because he was using the defeated emotions for the skate.

“Dick!” Several heads on the ice turned towards the door as well as a few bystanders, Dick quickly out of his seat. Well this wasn’t going to be a day without distraction or gossip, it wasn’t going to be a week without gossip that was for sure.

“Holy shit! I never thought I’d see you in here again...” Oh God, that would have been right in Tim’s ear. He held the phone to his chest. “You said you’d never come back, here for any reason at all, even if it was a comp.” It had been years and Jason had kept good on his word, deliberately missing a stop on the road for an ice show two summers ago, because he didn’t want to skate at the rink run by Bruce Wayne.

Yet here he was. “Tim’s not here is he?”

“No, he’s resting this week.” He slowly put the phone back to his ear. “Hey, did you know-”

Jason was quick, clamping his hand over his mouth before he could finish speaking. “He doesn’t, now help me find your boss.” He hissed, the calm expression he’d worn just seconds before now far more frantic. “I don’t want him to know… Not while I’m here.”

The hand was lowered, Dick putting the phone back to his ear. This seemed fishy but he was willing to play along in the game. He’d noticed their interactions had softened slightly, Jason had changed first but Tim had started to defrost somewhat as well. “Okay fine!” He needed to at least make some sort of promise to talk to Tim later. He was sure he’d be begging for answers later on. “Sorry man, I have to go, we’ll talk properly when you bring in your doctor’s excuse for teacher.”

Tim gave another soft response that in truth he only half listened to, far too curious about Jason’s presence to focus on anything else. As soon as the last words were uttered he hung up, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket.

“I thought you and Tim were good, well aside from whatever happened in the warm up, why are you here if you’re avoiding him?”

Jason looked uneasy, but determined about something. Whatever he wanted from Bruce it looked like he was about to go into battle. There was no chance in hell that he was going to ask Bruce to coach him again. “Yeah, well, I may have said something he didn’t particularly like, he snapped at me and then avoided me during the Gala and banquet. More importantly, Bruce?”

Dick shrugged, finding Bruce wasn’t always the easiest of things to do. “I don’t know where he is, but I haven’t seen him leave which means he is here… Somewhere.” He had a lesson scheduled in ten minutes time, which meant a man hunt for Bruce wasn’t what he should be joining in on. “You’re free to look for him.”

“No! I need you with me, a witnesses and tape will mean he can’t report shit.” That didn’t exactly inspire confidence. However, Jason obviously wanted someone to keep Bruce accountable for what happened and Dick knew he was probably the best person for it. “You can film me if you want just to make sure.” That smile, so forced, trying to act sweet even though they were both well aware of the fact that whatever it was that Jason was wanting to do would likely be some sort of trouble.

If it meant Jason would show some sort of restraint then it was better to just go along with it. “Alright let’s see if he’s in the office upstairs then.”

He wasn’t, if Bruce had slipped out someone would know, Dick asking a few members of staff if they’d seen him, Jason lurking in the background listening. The longer it was taking the more worked up the other seemed to get, it wasn’t until Alfred stumbled upon them back in the office looking through Bruce’s schedule that they got the answer. In the small dance studio working with Damian.

A fact that only seemed to irritate Jason more. He didn’t even have time to rise out of the chair before Jason was out of the room and making a b-line for the studio. He was still a few steps behind when Jason burst open the door. “Hi Bruce, long time no see, you might not remember me I’m the first skater you fucked over in their prime.” That tone was utterly disgusting, it couldn’t even be labelled as forced sweetness, he knew very well that Jason was making a complete and utter mockery of those that played nice.

“What do you want Jason?” Bored, irritated, he didn’t even know what the right way to describe Bruce’s tone was, he’d only gotten back on Sunday night and hadn’t been the most engaged of people yesterday but he’d seemed in a decent enough mood this morning. He was leaning against the wall, watching Damian who was stretching against the barre.

Jason showing up wasn’t going to produce the nicest side of Bruce. “Oh I thought someone might need to have a little chat with you. Because your skater, you know the one that fell off the podium for the first time in his career, who wouldn’t dare disrespect you enough to say how he actually felt about all this.” So that was the actual reason Jason didn’t want Tim to know, they weren’t exactly friends but Jason was the person who knew what it was like to be the victim of Bruce’s mistakes.

Tim would need to see this, not because it was Jason, but because he needed to know how Bruce would react about being confronted with the aftermath of the competition. “And you think it’s your place to tell me how to manage my skaters?” No one should have to hear it either, Dick took his phone out of his pocket, swiping into the camera as he turned his back to the room, nudging the door closed his foot, once he had it recording the phone was back in his jacket pocket.

“I don’t care if it’s my place or not! You hurt someone who has been nothing but loyal to you. Taken actual hits- yes they were from me, that’s not the point, for you. No other skater would do that for a coach.” Just how long had he been rehearsing this in his head, it took just under fifteen hours to fly in and he could have gotten in yesterday afternoon or the evening? There was no guarantee he could shut down everything but Bruce hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth.

Damian on the other hand did. “It’s not as though he would have been successful anyway, could barely get through a day’s training without having some sort of fit.” Not a total lie but there was no doubt in Dick’s mind that Damian hadn’t stopped for a moment to think that he was exactly what was causing Tim to get so upset.

“Really, you’re not going to defend him, he was in first after the short or did you not care enough to know that?” Silence, both Dick and Jason waiting for some sort of response, he hoped Bruce could at least say something that didn’t make him seem like even more of an asshole. “So your record with the men's stands at one skater who won everything imaginable, me who you broke physically something which you still refuse to accept responsibility for, and one you’ve broken mentally and I doubt you think you’ve done anything wrong by him.”

Okay, definitely irritated now. “If you’re actually here to demand an apology for something that happened years ago, I did apologize and you threw a tantrum and left my coaching. Some people just don’t have what is needed to win, you thought you were invincible and wouldn’t have listened-”

“This has nothing to do with me! If Tim didn’t listen to every fucking word you said he’d have won that World Championship.” He wasn’t even trying to be quiet at this point, the space might have been small but Jason’s voice certainly bounced off the walls. “You made us all so fucking afraid of failing you, you used to tell me all you wanted was for me to do what you said and do it right. That’s not what you want at all though, because when anyone does that you’re still not satisfied and you get bored with them.”

Dick couldn’t help but bite his lip, no matter how he weighed in it wasn’t going to sound great and whilst to an extent Jason was right, a lot of the words seemed to be coming from his own experience. “Oh I get it, you fucked the fa-”

“Damian, leave��� this has nothing to do with you.” Dick hadn’t expected to raise his voice so suddenly, there was a line that couldn’t continue to be crossed, he might not want to pick between Bruce and Jason but Damian couldn’t keep getting away with what had been coming out of his mouth lately. Bruce hadn’t put a stop to it even though he probably heard far worse things come out of his mouth and he couldn’t for the life of him understand how he could listen to it.

Everyone standing stiff as they watched the teen stomp out, Dick ensuring that the door was pressed shut behind him. “Funny, both Talia and Ra’s have no issue with people’s preferences. That shit comes from learned behaviours, did he get it from you?”

“Of course not, you can attack me as a coach because of our history but you have no idea what it’s like to parent a child.” Christ, he sounded like a middle aged woman when he phrased it like that.

“You’re not being attacked, I’m standing several feet away from you and just because I’m giving you some harsh truths doesn’t mean it’s an attack.”

“As far as I know, Tim doesn’t like you and wouldn’t appreciate you being here, let alone having an opinion on how he’s coached.”

“Bruce, he wasn’t coached that’s the point everyone is making.” Dick sighed, it wasn’t the smartest thing to speak up on but the articles were everywhere, if Bruce looked at even one of them he’d know who was being made to look like the fuck up. “Yes there’s years of training and work from a coach that goes into creating a champion skater but you sent him there with no one when I could have gone to Germany for Damian without any trouble. Tim made huge mistakes but no one was there for him to tell him that it was going to be okay, that he hadn’t destroyed his entire career, did you at least call or even text him?”

“He and I will meet to discuss the competition when he returns which was always the intention regardless of what happened.” So that was a no.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bruce, I thought you were a shitty coach before coming in for this little talk but you actually prove how fucked you are as a person every time you open your mouth.” He couldn’t see Jason managing to provoke Bruce but he’d already said plenty already, and none of it sounded good.

Bruce had clearly had enough, his speaking up probably hadn’t helped the matter either. “Jason you’ve outstayed your welcome, you can leave or we can make some phone calls.”

It was a threat that could mean a lot of things, Jason wanted it recorded, likely so if Bruce tried to claim to the ISU or USFSA that he’d done more than yell at him they couldn’t sanction him at all but he could still have him removed by police as well. Hell even reporting it to the ISU or USFSA would taint Jason for some time. “Fine I’ll go. You have no chance of keeping him past this season anyway, I can promise you that. I’m sure Ra’s will send you a thank you letter for handing Tim over on a silver platter.”

Jason getting the last word in wasn’t surprising and Bruce’s shoulders dropped slightly once the door opened and closed again. Leaving just the two of them, Bruce was definitely not pleased with him for saying something.

But he had more left to say. “I have a question, I’m late for a lesson but I need to know this… What did you think of Tim’s skates?”

“I believe the scores were very reflective of what happened.” The worst way he could have answered the question, undeniable proof that he hadn’t watched either the short program or the free skate. Telling the truth would have been a far better option.

There was so much he could say to that, start another fight but potentially lose his job at the rink and then end up with a damaged reputation as well. “If he asks, maybe just say you haven’t had the chance to watch, it’ll hurt a lot less.” He’d definitely said his piece and he wasn’t about to deny Tim the opportunity to throw the past few weeks back in Bruce’s face.

That is if Tim found fight to actually force Bruce into actually listening to him.

[elizabeth-midford-who-blog]

Alright fandom, I’m about to bring up a topic that has pissed me off for way too long. Way back to one of my favourite arcs, Book of Circus.

A topic that has not only been something personal to me, but another reason that Sebastian Michaelis is one of the most disgusting characters and if SebaCiel was real, it’d be indeed a heavily toxic relationship. Also, a counter argument to everyone that brings this up as a point to hate Our!Ciel.

Today, I’m going to discuss my heavy belief and theory, that during this scene, Ciel was forced into a PTSD attack.

Look at the following three pictures.

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) -  a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.

With this in mind, PTSD has to be triggered by something, not just when Ciel walks in and sees the exact duplicate of a room he was trapped in for a month. These three photos are so important because it shows exactly how this connected to that day. The doctor representing the cultists, Ciel is now forced to remember all those terrible memories, his traumatic memories scratching the surface. How heavily these two scenes correlate is so important.

Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?

At this exact moment in time, we lost Ciel, he was gone and reliving everything. The outside world completely falling apart to him, having no idea what happened anymore after this moment.

Now, showing the actual attack.

‘Stop it’.

‘Stop it’.

‘Someone’.

What do you assume from the black text boxes? To me, this appears to be happening in Ciel’s mind, he is now reliving this all over again until the end of the arc. I will go more in depth in that later.

Right now, he is calling out to someone right now, he wants someone to get him out of this hell hole, just like he did that day.

My point is, and I can’t stress this enough, he believes he is back there in the cage, and he wants out. He is gonna do everything to get out.

To make more sense of this before moving on to my next point of the actual PTSD attack, here are the symptoms of an attack.

Behavioral: agitation, irritability, hostility, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior, or social isolation.

Psychological: flashback, fear, severe anxiety, or mistrust.

Mood: loss of interest or pleasure in activities, guilt, or loneliness.

Sleep: insomnia or nightmares.

Also common: emotional detachment or unwanted thoughts.

Now, I have put in bold the ones Ciel is suffering from AND signs that he has shown previous to this. Guilt and nightmares are the biggest examples of that.

Right now, he is having extreme emotional detachment and unwanted thoughts, with flashbacks fueling fear and severe anxiety. He is suffering much more than what he appears to be.

Now, here is my second point to this that involves Sebastian:

For anyone that wants to argue that Sebastian isn’t as bad, or he sincerely cares for Ciel. I’m about to throw those words back in your face.

Sebastian Michaelis is a demon, he does not give a single fuck about our!Ciel, sorry if I have to be the one to tell you this, but he doesn’t and this is the first example I’d give anybody to show them.

‘Young master, is there something you’re afraid of?’

‘You’re outside of the cage right now, my Lord.’

‘Call my name.’

Those sentences, are the biggest forms of manipulation I’ve ever seen coming from this demon. He didn’t break Ciel out of the PTSD attack, I’ve seen other people saying that, but that is far from the truth. I will show that through the next set of pictures. 

Right now, I want to explain what I believe to be Sebastian’s intentions. This goes if he understood what was happening or not. I start to believe more and more that he did, because focus on the look on Sebastian’s face. He is smirking, he seems more than pleased by the situation because he gains from it. He tells him to call his name, say it, because Ciel believes he is in the cage and has just called the demon to come and save him. Sebastian, being aware he wants to be saved, he wanted help, used him, his asthma and PTSD attack, and he did it to make not only their contract stronger but to make Ciel’s soul better.

Revenge, sorrow, pain, all these things that make Ciel’s soul the best that it is, the want to be stronger than his enemies, Sebastian knows this.

Sebastian used this for his own agenda, he didn’t do it because he wanted to help Ciel find himself, because he didn’t. All that demon wanted was to help himself with his meal, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Ciel then acts out, screaming to ‘kill these guys’, you think he means the doctor and Joker right?

I’m afraid, far from it, saying Ciel is mixing his reality with the past, he believes he is telling Sebastian to kill the same people he already killed three years ago. He does not remember the reality before him. What he is seeing, is so much different than to what you and I were seeing.

The most important point in this post is:

Ciel had no idea who he was killing, he thought he was in the cage, he didn’t care who died, he wanted the cultists stopped.

CIEL WAS NOT AWARE HE WAS KILLING THOSE CHILDREN.

Another message (SebaCiel):

I don’t care what you ship, I really don’t.

However, if you look at this scene and sexualize it, I don’t mean ironically (joking is fine), I mean you truly look at this and think this is a great example of SebaCiel, I’m sorry, but you piss me off and quite frankly I feel you are not only spiting in Ciel’s face, but the people who suffer from PTSD.

Have you ever seen someone have a PTSD attack? It’s terrifying, it is one of the hardest things to deal with, pulling someone out of those memories and making them feel safe again-. It is difficult, and I’ll say it once more.

No, Ciel calling Sebastian’s name, did not break him out of his trance.

To romanticize and sexualize PTSD and his asthma attack is disgusting, and a pathetic way of filling your yaoi quota.

Off of that rant, I’m gonna move on to the last bit of this.

Burning the children.

As you can see, Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

He’s never done that before in his entire career, isn’t that off to you?

Of course it is, because he in his mind doesn’t work for her yet, what Sebastian says to him is not processing to him. Sebastian isn’t aware of this more than likely, but I promise you nothing anybody is saying is entering Ciel’s ears and he is understanding it unless it relates to that day. When he says to burn down the place, he believes he is getting rid of the place that caused him aching pain and suffering for an entire month. Not just for him but his beloved brother.

Reliving these memories, Ciel wanted nothing more than it to go away.

Let me say again, Sebastian asking if he was ‘sure’ wouldn’t have helped at all. To open your mind a bit, here are the very few ways to help PTSD. Most of the time the person needs to take medication and probably go to sleep.

Therapies:

Cognitive behavioral therapy - A talk therapy focused on modifying negative thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses associated with psychological distress.

Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing - Psychological treatment that reduces the stress of traumatic events through eye movements.

Exposure and response prevention - A talk therapy based on exposing feared or traumatic experiences within a safe setting in order to help reduce any associated psychological distress.

Medications:

Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) - Eases symptoms of depressed mood and anxiety.

Now, these are modern treatments, which are very few to begin with.

You know what they had back then? Nothing. No, that is not a joke, PTSD was not recognized until 1980. So needless to say, Ciel was fucked, and the only and best way Sebastian could’ve helped would’ve been knocking him out after killing the threats. Not even quite sure if Ciel would’ve been okay after waking, or if he’d even remember what happened, which would’ve been best because now he has the guilt of killing all these children for the rest of his life.

To all the people that use this heavily as a point for disliking Ciel:

I’d just like to say, you don’t have to like Ciel, but don’t you EVER come at me with this shit and telling me how it’s his fault. He didn’t want to do that, if Ciel had been in his right mind and knew what he was doing, he would’ve never made the move he did.

He thought he was killing the cultists all over again.

After all the comments, discussion and controversy with this that I’ve seen, from fulfilling fangirl’s yaoi dreams to completely blaming Ciel for a serious mental disorder, I have to say-

The conversation around this entire situation in Book of Circus inside this fandom, is beyond disgusting to me.

Sorry for my amount of salt in this post, but this topic to me is personal, and I’m tired of it being treated not as seriously as it really is.

This is my theory, my opinions on Ciel’s PTSD, and I don’t believe he should be blamed for something he didn’t ask for.

I apologize for rambling, that’s it.