#this went from comprehensive to just me yelling god bless

[neonmetro]

HAI....SO LIKE,, OPINIONS ON MAHOU SHOJO.......... PERSONALLY IM A DIE HARD FOR IT

I've been into it since I was like 5. My parents have videos of me dancing to the music of like Precure and stuff....WHICH IS LOWKEY EMBARRASSING BUT WHATEVER

Favorite Magical Girls series 👀👀

I personally REALLY like Precure, madoka magica, and card captor sakura, and tokyo mew mew ( BUT OBVIOUSLY MORE ) I WOULD LOVEEEE TO HERE YOU RANT ABOUT YOUR LOVE FOR IT 💞💞💞💞💞💞

-Paris anon

I LOVE MAHOU SHOUJO!!!!!!!!!! i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ON IT YOU HAVE NO IDEAAA!!!!

it's so good. the tropes are so funny and endearing (the running to school toast thing is the most iconic thing ever) and its SO NICE TO HAVE A BOTH EPISODIC YET CONTINUOUS STORY LINE... I LOVE MAGICAL GIRL OUTFITS ITS PEAK I FEAR

i grew up on shit like sailor moon (good lord this changed the trajectory of my life forever), kitchen princess, pichi pichi pitch mermaid melody, and shugo chara (oh my god i am obsessed with shugo chara you have no idea) so um. so far my favorite is sailor moon + shugo chara but i really have to watch utena and cardcaptor ... those will probably make it on top

SAILOR MOON'S CHARACTER DESIGN/DRESSES ARE GENUINELY SOOOO AGUGHGHGHG i love the inbetween pages for mahou shoujo especially like. naoko takeuchi's fashion sense is genuinely peak (like i said i love her dresses especially)

i don't really remember all that much about kitchen princess? but it was cute i liked the food and how much the main character liked hokkaido and flan but i also read it out of order bc UGH OTHER people want to read it TOO (art style is so cute though augh)

PICHI PICHI PITCH LEGIT SHAPED MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD EXCEPT IT WAS JUST THE FIRST VOLUME BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW PIRATING EXISTED AND I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GET MORE VOLUMES SO I JUST REREAD THE FIRST VOLUME OVER AND OVER AND OVER i got the book at like a bookstore used and it was just peak to me at the time (i tried going back to it. genuinely cannot get past it now i fear)

shugo chara.

FUCK I AM SO OBSESSED WITH SHUGO CHARA THE CONCEPT OF EGGS AND HOW HAVING YOUR DREAM EGG BROKEN AND LEAVING YOU BROKEN IS SO DEVASTATING AMU IS A LITERAL 5TH GRADER AND SHE GOES THROUGH ALL THIS SHIT i love you utau peach pit cannot make me hate her. her arc of having her talent abused because she's just that desperate to save her brother is so devastating, AND TADASE. MY GOAT. MY KING. YOU CAN RULE THE WORLD I BELIEVE IN YOU SEKAII ITEEE his arc is also just so bad. his grandma dies. his dog dies. his adoptive siblings leave him. now he wants to rule the world so everyone in the world can be happy because he will carry their burdens FOR THEM FUCK ITS ALL JUST SO GOOD!!!!

its definitely one of the mangas i can actually go back on and read it it holds up so well and the art style is just so cute (they got a new reboot and it was AWESOME UNTIL THAT FUCKING CAT BOY SHOWED UP (unfortunately sometimes mahou shoujo is just connected with that cringe))

I STILL NEED TO WATCH PRECURE, CARDCAPTOR, AND TOKYO MEW MEW (shields my face as i'm getting tomatoes thrown at me) I KNOW I KNOW I'M SORRY

I DO HAVE A LOT OF PRECURE TOYS FROM WHEN MY MOM WENT TO JAPAN AND BOUGHT THEM FOR ME... plus a bunch of magazines i loved shifting through when i was a kid

i also did watch precure glitter force and that was. uh. well it was interesting. (um. i mean it was. partially good. i. i liked the character designs and art.)

i did watch princess tutu and that was just so fucking good. i love fairy tales and i love toxic lesbianism and some empty ass guy and his toxic yaoi with his best friend

i'll be real. madoka magica scarred me because i saw the mami scene but then i went back to it when i was like 15 and cried over homura and the last few episodes of the main series and look at me now mentally ill and gay and i have homura as my google pfp

i have Thankfully grown as a person and i now understand the hype behind madoka magica and i need every single person on this fucking earth to watch it it is the biggest influence on novaturient ever i love the concept of witches and magical girls and that FUCK ASS CAT KYUBEY HIS IS AWESOME

soul gems are so pretty. i got these perfumes in my room that look exactly like them and i put them up and i think wow... this is just like madoka magica

i have no idea how to end this post. thank you for enabling to ramble about mahou shoujo i am so glad there are people just as insane as i am about this genre

[cloudwithoutsilverlining]

please tell us more about co-archivists au 👉👈 i am very excited to hear your essay

BLESS UR HEART ANON I was NOT expecting anyone to actually read my tags <3

ANYWAY, thanks so much for asking and here are my vaguely comprehensive ideas for co-archivist AU here we go (it’s gonna get pretty long so I’m putting it under a cut lol)

Seasons 1+2 would probably go pretty much the same - Elias still chooses Jon alone as archivist and canon proceeds as is up until Infestation. Sasha still gets Not-Them’d but she doesn’t cease to exist, instead ending up trapped in some liminal space. She was already strongly tied to Beholding  and so is able to be claimed by the Eye to escape the Stranger (think Mike Crew getting claimed by the Vast to escape the Spiral) which allows her to break out of the clutches of the Not-Them. Meanwhile, in the tunnels, Leitner tries to trap the Not-Them with the Buried book and instead the thing is psychically ripped apart from the inside out, the memories of Real Sasha are instantly airdropped back into everyone’s brains, Sasha wakes up in a pile of broken table fragments, and gets the hell out of there.

From there, the start of s3 is pretty much the same for Jon (he and Leitner decide that the book had some sort of unforeseen adverse affect on the Not-Them that exploded it somehow) - he flees the institute after finding Leitner’s body, hides out with Georgie, and so on. Everyone assumes Sasha’s dead, except for Elias, obviously, who Knows not only is she alive, but she’s well on her way to becoming an Archivist. (He’s not going to do anything about it - sure, it’s more moving parts than he was counting on, but a backup Archivist could prove useful if something were to happen to Jon. Plus he’s already got a bet going with Peter over which of them will make it to the end.)

Sasha, consumed by the beholding-typical hunger for information, seeks out The Distortion - Michael helped her that one time, after all. She gets hints of usefulness from him (though he insists on using 80-word-long names for all the entities) but mostly he speaks in riddles and is generally frustrating. I’m also gonna say they have a Jude Perry handshake moment except instead of boiling wax it’s knife hands because I love parallels.

She leaves the Spiral with a vague understanding that entities are a thing and starts basically throwing herself into situations fitting their various motifs and hoping for an encounter. One of them seems related to heights? Guess she’s going skydiving. (I stand by my headcanon that Sasha is at least as if not more impulsive than Jon. In s1 while he was like “well I guess I’ll keep an eye out for more statements about Prentiss and hopefully get more information” she went straight to “I personally am gonna hunt down this nightmare worm monster! How dangerous can she be she’s only killed like 5 people that we know of + I’m too curious to leave it alone!” I mean seriously.) While this is a great way to accumulate a lot of Marks for herself, it’s not a great way to find out anything useful. Plus she’s nearly gotten herself killed a bunch of times, so clearly she needs a new approach.

She goes to find Michael again but instead finds Helen, who’s much more inclined to be helpful. She fills Sasha in about how Jon’s also going Archivist, and gives her a door to find him. Sasha steps through the door and emerges in a clearing in the woods where Daisy’s just about to slit Jon’s throat.

Suffice it to say, when a yellow door appears from nothing in the middle of the woods and dead-for-a-year Sasha James steps out of it, Daisy is very surprised. The resulting altercation leaves Sasha marked by the Hunt but the situation calms down after the arrival of Basira who points out that, when facing Elias, surely two avatars are better than one.

Events of s3 from there on play out basically like they do in canon except this time the archivist’s not alone, which helps with the whole “turning into an avatar” identity crisis. Don’t get me wrong, they’re both still freaking out, but they’re freaking out TOGETHER so it’s not as bad. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about weird Beholding stuff, especially when they literally share your brainwaves. (I’d imagine there are a lot of moments when everyone’s just sitting around resolutely doing no work when both Sasha and Jon abruptly stand up, point to each other, and yell some random thing that means absolutely nothing to anyone else but them because Beholding just airdropped them some knowledge. Also since the archivist power is split between the two of them, when they go into Statement mode they end up speaking in unison, Sasha’s right eye and Jon’s left both glowing. It’s very creepy for anyone watching.)

Then comes the Unknowing, and Tim blows up, but instead of dying like in canon, he gets pulled back into the realm of the Stranger along with the rest of the Unknowing and trapped there. When Jon and Sasha wake up from their twin comas, Basira tells them he’s dead, but Sasha realizes that somehow she Knows he’s not. With Jon’s help she uses Beholding (all-seeing) to break into the realm of the Stranger (concealment) and pull him out, and later Jon does the same for Martin in the Lonely.

And in the end, yes, they both end up marked by all the entities, and the world still ends, and things are still pretty bad. But at least they have all four of them (the og archive team) to deal with it. And at least, when Jon needs to info dump about cursed beholding information, he can talk to Sasha. And at least, when Martin would really like some company that isn’t someone possessed by an omnipotent eyeball god, he can talk to Tim. Which I think would help with morale if nothing else. 

(Thanks for sticking to the end of all that lol - I meant it when i said i had a lot of thoughts) 

[vampiregirl1797]

Family Time is Precious

Spencer Reid x Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Warnings: FLUFF.

Word Count: 1,192– short and sweet.

Summary: Y/N completes her normal routine with baby Gideon, and Spencer comes home from a case and cute family time commences.

‘Gideon, honey what are you drawing?’ I asked, placing a small bowl of cut up banana onto his high chair in preparation for his meal.

He didn’t answer, at least not in a way that was comprehensible and yet it was, at least to me. As he blabbered back, his hands clenching and unclenching and smearing the paint onto the A3 paper on the small table in front of him. It was a mass of colours that he had blended together— red, blue, purple and yellow. It was beautiful and it was certain to join the other multitudes on our fridge. 

‘This is beautiful, baby.’ I gently ruffled the small amount of light brown hair he had on his head and kissed him in the same spot, ‘how about we pack things up now, huh? I’m sure you’re ready for a snack and your latest master piece needs to dry.’

He stopped blabbering, his oak eyes that replicated his fathers focusing on me for a moment, blinking and then looking down at his hands and seeming to deliberately lift them from the paper. He then looked back up at me and let out his classic light, musical laugh as if he was proud of his actions. I chuckled with him and shook my head, constantly amazed that even at two years old he seemed to understand me just fine. But then again, he was his father’s son.

I lifted him up and carried him over to the sink, carefully and thoroughly washing his hands before I secured him into his high chair. He clapped happily before he dug into his banana and I poured him some apple juice and placed his favourite blue sippie cup beside his bowl for him to drink when he was finished. He never drank his juice before he finished his snack—one of the few ways he was like his momma. 

While he ate I pegged his latest drawing onto the string we’d hung in his playroom for the exact purpose of drying out his paintings before they went onto the fridge. Once I’d done that I cleaned off the excess paint that had smeared onto his table, and by the time I’d finished that he was done with his snack and onto drinking his juice. The bowl went into the dishwasher and I gathered Gideon up in my arms once he’d finished with his juice. His eyes were beginning to droop and his clenched fists were beginning to furiously rub at his oak coloured eyes—which indicated that he was about to drop off for his afternoon nap. As much as I wanted to cuddle him and rock him to sleep in his rocking chair next to his crib, Reid and I had both agreed it was best we started conditioning him to fall asleep in his own bed, so that he wouldn’t require being held to rest. 

I gently placed him into his crib and assured that he was safely covered with his favourite blanket, before I pulled down the blinds to block out the early afternoon sun. I then turned on his starlight ceiling projector so that the room wasn’t too dark, and so that he’d have something nice to look at if he woke up. Once he was down, and the baby monitor was turned on, I got on with the house work and started preparing dinner—chicken pot pie for Spencer and I, which we would have a side of Mac and Cheese with, while the pasta would be Gideon’s meal with some broccoli and peas thrown in. I’d just put it all in the oven when Gideon started to stir and as I made my way downstairs I heard a sound that always made me smile—keys in the lock, which indicated Spencer was home from the latest case.

‘It sounds like Daddy’s home, buddy.’ I murmured into his hair, grinning when he lifted his head from my shoulder, all traces of sleepiness gone.

‘Dada.’ He said, repeating it over and over, until he eventually yelled it in excitement when Spence came into his view as we entered the living room. 

‘Hey buddy!’ Spencer said, his expression brightening as he took us in and wrapped the both of us up in his embrace. 

He kissed Gideon’s head and then mine. When he realised the baby was gripping his tie in his hands and waving them back and forth for attention, he chuckled which led to us all laughing when Gideon’s contagious laughter joined in.

//

It was much later after dinner had been consumed, Spence went upstairs to bath Gideon and put him to bed while I put all of the dishes into the dish washer and cleaned the kitchen. Once I was done, I went upstairs to find them, and I followed the soothing sound of my husband’s voice to find him in the nursery reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. I’d bought the books in a bundle last week and Spencer had of course already read them all, and was happily reading them to the baby after he expressed admiration for the series. 

I felt a soft smile form on my face as I leaned against the door jamb to take in the moment. It was effortlessly beautiful and peaceful, as it always was when I watched Spence with our son. When I’d found out that I was pregnant he’d been so nervous— scared that the baby would inherit the schizophrenic gene, and scared that he wouldn’t be a good father after his dad abandoned him. But I reminded him that he loved more fiercely than anyone I’d ever known, and that he would love our child the same way— unconditionally and without reservation. He still had his doubts, even now, but that was completely normal. Parents never felt like they were doing an amazing job, but we try our best and love our children— that’s the best we can do. And as Spence continued to read, long after Gideon had dropped off just to be sure he was really asleep, I knew without a doubt that he was a wonderful father. It was something I’d known he would be long before we were even together, as I observed the way he was with JJ’s children— he was patient, kind, protective and full of so much love to offer. But to see it as he cared for our baby was something I never took for granted; it was why I cherished these moments. To see him love so openly, without his guard up was a kind of beauty that you couldn’t adequately express with words.

As we slid into bed together, his arms automatically wrapping around me and holding me to his chest, I thanked whatever God, whatever deity was responsible for blessing me by introducing Spencer Reid into my life. Because without him my existence wouldn’t be anywhere near as happy, and it certainly wouldn’t contain this much love and tranquility.

I was blessed with a wonderful husband and a perfect son, and there wasn’t a day that went by that I took either of them for granted.

A/N: This one came to me after seeing how wonderful Spencer is with kids, I mean come on, I think we can all agree he would be an amazing father. I hope you enjoyed this one shot!

[first-son-of-finwe]

So this is my “leaving the fold” essay, which I mentioned some time ago. I wrote this mostly for myself because writing things down always helps me make sense of them, but quite a few people expressed interest in it, so here it is. 

I was raised as quite a strict Orthodox Christian, and the religion is a huge part of my mum’s life. This is mostly my experience of its ideas and processes, and how and why I ultimately decided to leave. It’s a bit rambling, all over the place and very long, but I kinda wanted to post it somewhere, so 🤷

TW for mentions of abortion, alcoholism and general conflict.

When I was twelve or thirteen, my parents and I set off on one of our regular trips to Russia. We used to do this every year before time and money became restricted, and one of our compulsory stops was always a large, sprawling monastery on the outskirts of the city of Nizhny Novgorod.

It’s a place of smiling nuns but very strict rules, where God forms a part of every sentence and church is mandatory for both mornings and evenings. It’s a place of communal meals, harvesting vegetables and milking cows, ringing bells, and lots and lots of praying. For me, it was a taste of pure rural life. I loved running through the fields, swimming in the pond and helping out with the manual tasks of running a communal settlement. I gasped in delight when I saw the lone horse in the field. Deep down I was never meant to be a city kid, and being at the monastery fuelled my dream of living the simple life.

But the fact that we were there purely for religious reasons? That was only an afterthought. An obligatory thing I had to go along with, because the adults expected it. Perhaps I tried to feel the same spirituality they seemed to experience, but I never quite got there.

I put on the headscarf, held the candle, wrote the names of my loved ones on prayer notes for the living. I bowed to the icons, made the sign of the cross when everyone else did. But I never truly connected.

One year on the day of a particularly significant celebration, a huge icon was carried over a horde of kneeling worshippers, and my mum told me to kneel down and pray for my dad to recover from his alcoholism. And so I did.

This is something I’d been praying for for a long time. It’s something I was told to pray for at every holy site, and before every relic. And no, he’s never quit drinking.

But I already knew that he wouldn’t, even as I knelt, closed my eyes and begged whichever saint was on that icon to help my dad quit drinking. I simply knew that it didn’t work that way.

I knew it the same way I knew that Santa wasn’t real. Every child seems to have experienced a shock-horror moment upon learning that they’d been deceived, but I recognised him for what he was right from the start - a story. For someone who’s always thrown themselves wholeheartedly into stories and fantasy, I’ve always had a very clear distinction between fact and fiction - though I’ve also not been so close-minded as to think that there isn’t a grey area in between.

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I don’t think I ever truly believed in their version of what was supposed to be happening.

But I think my moving away from Orthodoxy truly began the day I heard my mum on the phone to her friend, who was at the beginning of a difficult pregnancy and was considering an abortion. She and her husband were on different pages with regards to this, though I don’t quite remember who wanted what. My mother’s advice was this: “Well you should really listen to your husband, because you know that a husband’s word is God’s word.”

Even being the believer that I was then, my immediate reaction was complete shock, followed by a thought process that went something like “Are you joking?? SERIOUSLY?”

And of course, it was hard not to think of my own father in his worst moments of drunkenness. So it seems “God’s word” is actually a whole lot of slurred, barely comprehensible nonsense occasionally sprinkled with some insults. That’s really the logic we’re going with here? And beyond that, how can you hand such a deeply personal decision to someone else??

When I went away to university for three years and spent considerable chunks of time away from my mother’s influence, my skepticism only deepened with every day. I couldn’t reconcile the science-driven environment I saw around me with the ideas being propounded in church. Sincerely believing in the Adam and Eve story, in this day and age? It didn’t compute.

Having said that, I would certainly not call myself an atheist even now. I think it is just as presumptuous to assume your absolute knowledge of the infinite universe and declare it contains nothing, as it is to declare that your religion is the only correct one. I find many things about the Christian God to be extremely convenient (just so happens to be an old white bearded man, oh fancy that), but I am certainly not convinced that there are no intelligent forces in the world, whatever shape they take. We are simply not in a position to know these things, and I’m okay with that. 

In turn, I treat anyone who claims to know them with intense suspicion.

Ultimately, leaving Orthodox Christianity was a long and painful process (I say ‘was’ in the past tense, but the truth is that it is still ongoing) filled with guilt, second-guessing, deliberate habit breaking and an extremely distressed and persistent mother. But my reasons for it boil down to four key things.

Their ideas did not match my ideas. I will never believe that women are obliged to be submissive to men. I will never believe that being gay (or in any way not straight) is a sin. I will never believe that Eastern Orthodoxy is the one true faith among all the other hundreds and thousands of faiths that exist on this planet. Living with your partner without being married is not a sin. Eating some chicken on a lent day is not a sin. A woman on her period is not “unclean.” Their ideas of good and bad, right and wrong seemed so incredibly outdated and arbitrary that it became hard to take anything they said seriously. And I felt so uncomfortable standing there, surrounded by people who I knew believed in all of this wholeheartedly.

Despite the religion branding itself as ‘Christian’, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of the priests or worshippers talk about helping others. It is not on the agenda. People walk into church and think that because they’ve said their prayers, abstained from meat and dairy and then said their prayers some more, they’re now good people. But what have they done to make anyone’s life better? Who have they helped? Who have they listened to, cared for, understood? It’s not about that. It’s about making yourself feel good because you recited the Lord’s Prayer before eating your lunch.

The process of participating is extremely rigid, and trying to remember all those rules and traditions is honestly just stressful. Which hand do I kiss? How many times do I have to make the sign of the cross before approaching that super special icon? Do I have to touch the floor, or is that optional? Oh, everyone is kneeling...I guess I should kneel too. Once, I accidentally addressed the Archbishop as ‘Father’ and got a slew of disapproving looks from everyone around me. I think perhaps people find a certain kind of comfort and stability in routine, but having one imposed on you when you’re constantly unsure of the rules is not a pleasant experience.

Sometimes there is a very thin line between a religion and a cult, and Orthodoxy is toeing it a little too closely for comfort. I’ve seen it overpower people’s rational thinking and tap into their most powerful emotions in a way that’s honestly quite frightening.

The first step to leaving was progressively going to church less and less. I’d only ever really gone because my mum demanded it, but now, I put up a bit more resistance. I got screamed and yelled and cried at, and at first, of course I gave in. But little by little, I began to get the message across that I was simply not interested anymore.

Then, I deliberately made the choice to break certain habits. We always faced a row of icons on the wall and made a sign of the cross before leaving the house, and coming back in. It was such an ingrained habit that I did it automatically, and for the first few months, I had to physically catch myself in order to stop. That came with its own sense of guilt and hesitancy, and with the feeling that hey, now God is mad at you - hope a brick doesn’t fall on your head when you’re out there without his blessing.

The next step was removing the cross I’d worn around my neck ever since I’d been christened as a baby. Even now I can’t not wear something around my neck, so I have a little key necklace there in its place. Having a bare neck just looks too weird to me.

That cross came off and went back on at least three times. Each time I’d be persuaded, guilted, given the simple but effective phrase of “just do it for me.” I’ve removed it for what I hope will be the last time, and “just do it for me” won’t cut it anymore. If I converted to Islam tomorrow, would it be okay for me to ask someone to wear a hijab “for me”, even though they don’t share my faith? No, it wouldn’t. Religion and expression of religion is a personal choice, and not something you can strong-arm your adult children into.

Now, I’m in a fairly comfortable place where I’ve shed most of that initial guilt and am happy with my choices. I’ve even been back into church a couple of times just to meet a family member, only catching the end of the service - and even then, I’ve been reminded of exactly why I left. My mindset is simply too far removed to find any spiritual value in Orthodoxy.

Does my mother still try to get me into church? Yes. Are the attempts extremely mild and infrequent, compared to what they used to be? Yes. On one hand, I’d like to have a deep conversation with her and explain all the reasons why I have no interest in the religion anymore, but on the other hand, I know it’ll likely make her extremely upset.

Perhaps it’s better to just let it be.

[canarypoint]

Legends of Y/N Lance - Chapter 1: Pilot

Warning(s): cursing, mentions of death, little bit of violence, very, very slight mention of sex

A/N: oh...looks like this is actually happening, huh? for those of you waiting for me to post the requests from the other day/night/something, i’m working on them! i just have the attention span of a goldfish. should i make a taglist or whatever it’s called for the series?

A/N #2: a lot of the dialogue was taken directly from the corresponding episode of Arrow (1x01 “Pilot”), all rights to it go to the respective owners or whatever pleasetellmei’mnotgonnagetintroubleforusingitbecauseyesthat’sageniunefearihavelol. i also highly recommend rewatching (or just watching- tho, if you haven’t seen Arrow yet, i highly recommend just watching the entire Arrowverse before reading this...) the episode first.

Click here for the series summary.

Click here for the previous chapter (Chapter 0: What’s Past is Prologue).

Click here for the series masterlist.

The TV plays the all-too-familiar ‘Breaking News’ sound, alerting you of just that. The first thing you notice is the big ‘LOST BILLIONAIRE FOUND’ heading at the bottom of the screen. Your heart drops when the man begins speaking.

“Oliver Queen is alive. The Starling City resident was found by fishermen in the North China Sea five days ago,” you flinch when it shows a picture of the man in question. “Five years after he was missing and presumed dead following the accident at sea which claimed The Queen’s Gambit.”

You let out a harsh sigh as the news continues its report.

“Queen was a regular tabloid presence and a fixture at the Starling City club scene. Shortly before his disappearance, he was acquitted of assault charges stemming from a highly publicized drunken altercation with paparazzi.”

You roll your eyes at the clip of said altercation.

“Queen is also the son of Starling City billionaire Robert Queen who was also on board but now officially confirmed as deceased.”

“Turn it off,” your oldest sister, Laurel, tells you. You quickly pick up the remote and hit the power button without question. If it’s this hard for you, you can’t even imagine how hard it is for the playboy’s ex-girlfriend.

•••

“Come on, Laurel. We’re lawyers, not miracle workers. We can’t win this,” Joanna pleads.

You scoff from Laurel’s desk as she shoots back with, “If we can’t win a class-action suit against a man who swindled hundreds of people out of their homes and life savings then we’re not fit to call ourselves a legal aid office.”

“And if we go bankrupt in the process we won’t be a legal aid office. Hunt has an army of lawyers and they’re ready to bury us.”

“You and I against an army. I love those odds.”

“Why do you hate me?”

You laugh as Laurel shoos you off her chair.

“L, you said you were gonna-” you’re cut-off by the TV.

“And in other news, as to the castaway story you’ve all heard about. The son of a very wealthy billionaire will soon become a legendary story. Jessica now has more details and the complete castaway story.”

As Laurel stands up, you unconsciously move closer to her.

“The Queen’s Gambit was last heard from more than five years ago.” Laurel begins to walk closer to where everyone else in CNRI is gathered around the television.

“Laurel, where-” you question, starting to follow her.

“Mr. Queen has reportedly confirmed he was the only survivor of the accident-” a single tear rolls down your face, one of the thousands already shed, “-that took the lives of seven people including local resident Sara Lance. Survived by her sister, Laurel-”

Laurel shuts the TV off, earning the attention of her colleagues and coworkers.

•••

Freshman year of high school is hard enough, but whatever ominous deity is out there - whether it be a god, the universe, or some fifth-dimensional imp - is clearly out to get you.

Everyone - literally everyone; students, teachers, staff, even the fucking janitor - is talking about Oliver Queen and his great return! And, because said hypothetical ominous deity is clearly some sort of sadist, everyone is also talking about Sara and how “unfortunate” her death was.

“Yo, Lance,” some upperclassman calls. You look at him, a remark about your cop father and attorney sister already on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah?” you ask. You’re already bored with this conversation, not to mention pissed beyond comprehension.

“I dunno why everyone’s feeling so sorry for you,” he starts. “She was kinda asking for it, especially since she was helping Queen cheat on your sister. That bi-”

The more he talks, the more you see red until you finally can’t take it anymore. Without thinking, you slip your backpack off of your shoulders and onto the floor in one swift motion. You know people are already watching you, they have been since Oliver’s return, but despite the however-many eyes watching, no one is quick enough to realize what you’re doing until it’s too late. You quickly deck the junior in the face.

His hands go straight to his face as he exclaims, “You broke my nose, you fucking bitch!”

Ms. Sandsmark quickly runs out of her classroom. The students gathered around you clear a path for her, some already turning and walking to their next classes.

“Miss Lance, Mr. Armorr, principal’s office. Now.”

•••

Laurel turns her head to look at you, a not-so-happy look on her face, “Shouldn’t you be in school, Y/N/N?”

“Nah… I kinda got suspended… Dad said I have to either stay with him at the precinct or with you,” you pick up a random file as you talk, scanning over it.

Your sister pulls it out of your hands, glaring at you as if to say ‘do it again, and you’ll lose a hand.’

“What’d you do this time,” she sighs.

You look down, a small frown taking over, “Someone said something about Sara and I snapped…” you whisper.

Laurel takes a deep breath before pulling you into a hug. You’re not really sure why she says it, or why you react the way you do, but you struggle to hold back a cry as she says, “I’m sorry.”

After a moment Laurel releases you and goes back to picking up her case files as Joanna approaches.

“Laurel, I just got this from Hunt’s lawyers,” Joanna hands Laurel another file. “They filed a change of venue. We are now in front of Judge Grell.”

You walk behind them, barely paying attention to what they’re saying as you respond to a text from a friend.

“Hunt funded Grell’s reelection campaign,” Laurel adds. Joanna hums in sarcastic agreement. “He’s got Grell in his back pocket.”

Joanna wraps her arm around Laurel, “You know, it’s fun being your friend. I get to say I told you so a lot.”

You can’t help but laugh as Laurel rebuts, “No. Adam Hunt is not smarter than we are.”

“No, he’s just richer and willing to commit multiple felonies.”

Laurel stops and turns around, pointing at Joanna. “We don’t need to go outside the law-”

“To find justice. Your dad’s favorite jingle.” Laurel winks at you as Joanna finishes for her.

You, once again, roll your eyes at the two. Before you can interject with your own statement, you and Laurel freeze as you see what- who is in front of the bulletin board.

“Hello, Laurel. Speartip,” Oliver says. You let out a nervous laugh - though it’s more of just a puff of air - at the nickname. You give him a twitch of a half-smile as your eyebrows furrow in concern for your sister (or Oliver, since you’re not sure if she’s gonna run, yell at him, or straight-up punch him in the face).

She catches you by surprise as she calmly states, “Jo, watch Y/N. Oliver and I need to talk,” without looking away from the former castaway.

“Wait, Laurel-” you cut yourself off, just barely avoiding Joanna as she tries to stop you from following the former couple.

“Thomas!” you yell in surprise as you all approach CNRI’s exit. You hear Joanna sigh from behind you as Laurel and Oliver give you confused looks. Tommy rolls his eyes.

“What’d I say about calling me that, Speartip?” he responds, unphased by your reaction to seeing him.

•••

“How’d you think that was gonna go, Tommy?” Laurel questions. You have to hide a grin at her attitude towards the playboy.

“‘Bout like that,” he responds as she briskly passes him.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Laurel orders as you hop off the railing.

•••

“Are you sure you wanna go, L?” you ask, handing your sister her bag as she walks by.

“Tommy asked me to go. I’m not gonna let the problems I have with Oliver get in the way of Tommy and I being friends.”

“Well… can I come?” You jump over the back of the couch, landing next to Laurel. “According to every social media account Thea has, she’s-”

“Thea is the youngest member of one of the richest families in Starling, you are the daughter of a cop and the sister of a defense attorney. Thea may be able to get away with breaking the law, but you certainly aren’t.”

•••

“If hypothetically, fifty-thousand dollars magically appear in your bank account, it might be best for you not to speak about it… to anyone, ever,” Laurel laughs at whatever the person on the other end says as your eyes widen. Joanna walks up to Laurel’s desk as Laurel says, “God bless you, too,” before hanging up.

“I just got a very grateful phone call from one of our clients against Adam Hunt.”

“Me, too.”

They both laugh before Joanna adds, “It looks like Starling City has a guardian angel.”

You look around as phones begin ringing from all around CNRI.

“By the way, your cute friend’s here.” With that, Joanna walks away. Laurel turns and stands up to see none other than Tommy Merlyn. You roll your eyes at his boyish grin.

•••

“You left the party pretty quick last night, even after I made sure the bar was stocked with pinot noir,” Tommy starts. You’re left to walk behind him and your sister as they talk.

“It wasn’t really my scene.”

“I thought maybe you and Oliver went mano a mano again.” You not-so-subtly cough, reminding them of your presence. You don’t need to hear about your sister’s sex life, even if it’s just Tommy jumping to conclusions, per usual.

They both stop to look back at you, Tommy sticks his tongue out as Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I saw you two head out,” Tommy adds as they continue walking.

“There’s nothing between Oliver and I, not anymore.”

“And here I thought the only thing between you and Oliver was us.”

“I wouldn’t exactly characterize us as an us, Tommy.”

Tommy quickly gets ahead of Laurel, forcing her to stop. You stay a few feet away from them, not wanting to interrupt whatever… this is.

“Then what would you call it?”

“A lapse.”

“That’s quite a few lapses,” you glare at Tommy. “Your place, my place, my place again.”

“Oh, I feel sick…” you mumble, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Shut it, Y/N,” Laurel teases. “Oh, come on, Merlyn. We both know that you’re not a one-girl type of guy.”

“Depends on the girl,” is Tommy’s attempt at a smooth response.

“Three things: one, I’m still here. Two, Laurel has a point. And three, real smooth Thomas, real smooth. Oh, and have I mentioned that I’m still here?”

“Nice try, Speartip. That was four things,” Tommy responds with a laugh.

“Oh look, the rich-boy can count below ten-thousand, astonishing! Plus, the last part was a continuation of my first point, so no. It wasn’t four things, you’re just dumb.”

“I have to go back to work,” Laurel says she turns around, grabbing your arm in the process.

“Dinah Laurel Lance,” Tommy starts. “Always trying to save the world.”

Laurel turns around once more, “Hey, if I don’t try and save it, who will?”

You smile proudly as you follow Laurel back to CNRI.

•••

A/N #3: oh, anyone recognize the name of the teacher and the student? and yeah i know it doesn’t entirely make sense to include that last scene, but like... you can’t have a story about the Lances without including “Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world,” now can you?

[angelic-holland]

Alice’s 4k Fic Rec List

Wow! I wanted to thank each and every one of my followers for putting up with me! As a little thank you I wanted to put together this fic rec list of some of my favorite fics. Feel free to send in your own fics and I’ll read as many as I can in my spare time. This is by no means a comprehensive list of fic recs but some of my absolute favorites! My little feedback paragraphs include some spoilers so feel free to skip over them when checking out the fics! 

Peter Parker x Reader

Three Words by @screamholland

Yeah this tore me to pieces! I remember reading it and crying and being like “why must angst hurt me this way” and now I’m addicted to writing angst. The way he looked at you made you feel like a masterpiece displayed in a museum. Yeah! Need Peter Parker to look at me like that. The innocence and beauty of someone’s first love is precious, so fucking precious. 

Band Ten Heart by @robbinholland

This fic is just SO cute. Peter being a fumbling dork is what I live for. The reader describing the cliches of band kid dating tropes hysterical! “Peter Parker, I’m really glad you didn’t quit.” Oh my GOD I squealed when I read that. Clarinet players have talented tongues??? I fucking lost it. Total cute feel good story even though I have no idea how band works, it’s still fucking adorable.

Quantum Heartbreak by @farfromhaz

The title is very very accurate. This fic tore my soul to pieces as I read it. Peter realizing he was gone for three years instead of hours, Peter realizing he has a daughter, the reader having to raise her alone for the first few years, wow that HURTED. But!!! The reader telling Peter she’s pregnant and Peter being so excited about raising his second kid. So bittersweet, absolutely amazing. 

When Peter’s Not Such a Good Boy by @marvelouspeterparker

Oh my god! I have never wanted to dom someone so much. Like the idea of teasing peter is sending me to an astral plane of existence. There are no words to describe how super hot this is. I read this at least once a week. No fucking joke. 

Tom Holland x Reader

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves by @wazzupmrstark

Wow I’ve been reading this series for a LONG time and I’m so in awe of it. It’s so precious, seeing the reader and Tom fall in love. I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers/being forced to work with someone who is a pain in the ass and then finding out they’re secretly a softie. Tom and the reader having those little room service dates? God I lived for it. When they went to the pool at the roof of the hotel oof I lost my MIND. This series is god tier and if you only read one Tom series in your life let it be this one.

Win-Win by @hillsnholland

Making Tom jealous? Oh god I would thrive in that environment. I want that so bad it’s ridiculous. The jealous sex that ensues, hot as fuck! Spanking??? Toms hands were absolutely made for that, there is not enough time to discuss how nice his hands are. Him calling you princess and making you beg for it? Yeah sign me the fuck up! Is there a wait list? I will wait all day. 

Instagram Live by @xoluvx

Tom!!!! Is a grandpa when it comes to technology. This is totally something that idiot would do. Harrison and Zendaya being the cheeky little shits that they are! Hysterical. Plus the smut is hot as fuck. Like i don’t care if the whole world can hear me I just want Tom to dick me down 

Kiss Currency by @madmadmilk

Wow wow wow. First off, Jacky always writes something so incredibly special, like her ability to write inner monologues/thoughts that feel so real and raw? Amazing. I was on the edge of my seat every second while reading this fic. i see “ah clueless idiots in love” and I’m like my kind of story. “I don’t want to see you kissing other people, Babe” duh!!! Reader!!! Ma’am! He likes you!!! anyways this was really cute story and I loved every single little detail from the themed parties to the awkwardness of trying to get a read of a person before admitting to them how you feel. It’s beautiful.

You Again by @strangertingle

Oof this series has me fucking anxious! Every time I get the notif that it’s updated I’m like “eek!” I love the idea that Tom went to California to see about transferring to be with the reader and then through a series of unfortunate events, that didn’t happen. And now here they are! And the reader is like woah maybe I do love Tom imma tell him then BAM! Just kidding! He’s getting married and his fiancée is a schemer! This was the cutest series ever ahhhh

Weekend Getaway by @naturallytom / @hauntedtom

Oof when Ally asked someone to read it I jumped at the chance because I’ve always loved her work. Anyways I adore spooky stuff. I was so fucking terrified the entire time and I loved the fluff to tension to absolute terror to relief Ally built in this story. Just downright amazing.

Up To Your Mouth by @gyllenwh0re 

Wow Alex just knows how to hit every single kink that she could possibly think of in this fic. My jaw was dropped the entire time reading it. Honestly she writes the best most filthy smut on this goddamn website and I always feel so blessed when she posts things because they fuel my wellbeing

Camera Work by @screamsbytom 

Shit I’ve never wanted to make a sex tape so bad. Also Tom being a dumbass and uploading it to the cloud where everyone can see it? Peak chaotic dumbass Tom and it’s 100% something he would do. Tom wanting you hear you moan for him and beg him? Yeah sir I will gladly do just that

You Up? By @thirsttrapholland 

Christ! Fuckboy!tom gets me every time. When he goes and just helps himself to beer I’m like !!! I wanna suck his dick !!! Idk why but Tom being a little asshole but a total softie at heart is such a turn on. Anyways!!!! Lying about missing him even when you really really did? To protect your feelings? Felt that! Nobody likes getting their feelings hurt! 

I Only Feel You by @stuckonspidey

Whew! This fic was absolutely beautifully amazing and devastating. It was so well written, I adore soulmate AUs and this was something else in the best way possible. Like the way the reader was hesitant to join the Holland mob at first, then slowly became okay with it. The push and pull of knowing Tom is her soulmate but being like “I don’t want to put myself in danger” and then deciding she’d ultimately do anything for the person she has grown to love. Wowza! I cant get enough of this fic I try to reread it often.

Goodnight n go by @honeymoonparker

Eek! Looking at the stars with Tom? Biggest goal in life for me tbh. I love the sky and the stars and kissing him underneath the stars? Sign me up for that good shit! Both of them being like aha yeah we’re totally friends aha unless? 👀 too funny I love clueless idiots who have a thing for each other. It’s great. It’s cute, sweet adorable heartwarming I legit read it and go “awwww” every single time. 

It’s Official by @dahliaspidey

Fake dating with Tom? Yes! Clueless idiots in love again? Sign me up! When he gave the reader that bouquet of flowers? Yeah gimme that type of love my dude! Him fumbling over telling the reader how beautiful she is? We love slightly anxious Tom that loves someone but can’t put it in words quickly enough. 

Polo and Prosecco by @keepingupwiththeparkers

Omg this was fucking great. I too do not understand polo but would freely participate for the booze. “You are not getting come on this dress” I YELLED. Because yeah I feel like that would be a bitch to get out??? Also sitting on Tom’s knee/lap yeah sign me up. Katie always writes Tom as such a passionate lover and I feel it in my very soul. 

Lingerie by @mcuspidey

Okay so when is Tom going to buy me expensive lingerie so I can show him??? But seriously lmfao this was so precious and Tom just praising his gal? Yeah sign me UP.

“tattooing all of his favorite curves- that even the lingerie didn’t show off quite as well as his own memory did- with the love that you deserved.” Yeah yeah yeah please I’m here for that I deserve that. Anyways fluffy hot hot stuff 

Harrison Osterfield x reader

Side Effect by @darlingosterfield

I generally don’t read fics with Harrison as the main, like ever. But this series has me hooked! Absolutely hooked! The dynamic between the two of them, the way the reader just really wants to do the god damn assignment but Harrison is a little shit! But he’s also lowkey a big softie. Anyways it’s so beautifully written and I can’t wait to read the rest of it

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Bat Loosed From Hell

[UK Tour]

TW: Blood

——————

Joan was home alone when her wings grew in. She had finally gotten a day off, so she decided to just sleep in and relax at the house while everybody else went out. For once, she was happy that they didn’t invite her, because growing a pair of limbs in public wouldn’t exactly be something she could easily live down.

However, she did wish someone had been there with her.

When she heard the front door opening and closing, she began to call out for Maria as loudly as her hoarse voice could manage, since she was too sore to go get the woman. It took a moment, but she eventually heard footsteps approach, followed by her door opening.

The first thing Maria did was gasp upon entering the room. She saw the blood splattered across the walls and ceiling, soaking into the sheets, and then Joan, shivering on top of the messy blankets. Finally, she noticed the wings.

They were stained red, but she could see hints of pure white peeking out ever so slightly.

“Joan!”

Maria rushed over to the bedside and knelt down, stroking some hair out of Joan’s sweaty face. She girl pressed into her touch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Maria softener her voice, “You...”

“I grew wings,” Joan said. Her voice was weak from screaming. “Did you see them, Maria? I have wings!”

“You do,” Maria chuckled. She reached out a hand and gently glided it through the feathers, making the wing she was touching flutter a little upon contact. “When did this happen?”

“An hour ago, I think,” Joan answered, “My wingbuds started to hurt real bad, but I didn’t want to bother you.” Maria frowned at that, “Then it got worse and worse and...” Her wings flex a little, “And then I had these things.”

The girl was clearly dazed from what she had gone through. She needed rest and to get cleaned up, but they shouldn’t happen in bloody sheets.

“Alright, sweet pea, let’s get you out of that mess, okay?” Maria said, gesturing to the coagulated blood congealing in the blankets. She heard Joan whine softly in protest and added, “It’ll be really quick, okay? Then you can sleep and I’ll give your wings a nice groom.”

Having no other option, Joan agreed. She was mainly limp as Maria pulled her out of the bed and onto the floor to wait. The pianist dozed in and out of consciousness as her sheets and blankets are pulled off to be washed and replaced by temporary ones.

“Hey,” Maria is shaking her shoulder, “Don’t fall asleep here, silly. It probably won’t be too comfortable.”

Joan blinked several times and then crawled back up onto the bed with Maria’s help. She rested her head in the drummer’s lap, snuggling up as close as she could before breathing out a soft sigh of relief.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Maria said.

Joan was asleep within seconds, curled up against Maria as a warm cloth wiped down her feathers and revealed the glory of her new white tern wings. Maria couldn’t help but smile proudly at them.

“Maria?”

Maggie and Bessie are peeking in. Their eyes go wide when they see the wings.

“Woah!” Bessie gasped.

“Joan has wings!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Shh,” Maria hushed them, “Don’t wake her. You can come in, just keep your voices down.”

They both nod and slip inside. Maggie immediately began inspecting the wings in awe, while Bessie holds her hand out to touch. She looks at Maria for permission and pets gently when the drummer nods.

“They’re beautiful,” She murmured, happy for her bandmate. However, Maria doesn’t miss the look of jealousy in her eyes. Her gaze drifts to the bassist’s bare back, and she can understand why.

When Bessie got reincarnated, she was happy to know she wasn’t the only wingless one in the group. Sure, it might have been selfish or rude, but that’s really how she felt. That she wasn’t the only different one there.

However, the difference between her and Joan was that Joan didn’t get hers removed.

Bessie remembered what it was like having wings. Sure, she was a crow and those were looked down upon and nobody really wanted to associate with her, but she loved her wings. She loved flying with them and how soft and glossy the feathers were and how they shimmered in the sunlight. Even if her entire family were colorful, she was perfectly content with her plumage.

Bessie loved her wings.

But, like most things she loved, they were taken away.

Wings, to Catholics and Christians at least, were a sign of purity, good will, gifts from god. They were blessings, they made avians closer to angels, so when someone sinned, naturally, they don’t deserve to have their gifts. For example: The punishment for an affair with a king would be removal.

And that’s just what happened.

Ever since then, Bessie was classified as “flightless”. It was the term used for, well, defective avians. It didn’t matter if you had wings and just couldn’t fly or didn’t have wings at all- if you weren’t airborne, then you were flightless. That simple.

Nobody liked associating themselves with the flightless, so Joan and Bessie felt lucky they got jobs in a big musical production. Especially Joan, who became the music director! Perhaps that was because she had wingbuds extending from her shoulder blades, which were enough for the director to take pity on her. However, Bessie knew she didn’t get that kind of treatment. Not that she blamed them. She was a sinner.

Phantom pains weren’t uncommon. It always felt as if Bessie still had her wings, but, right now, she was sure what she was feeling wasn’t phantom pain. It was just pain.

Its been in her shoulder blades all day long. Every since she woke up that morning, her entire upper felt like it was on fire. It hurt to stand up straight and sit against the seat of the car on the ride to the theater (they wouldn’t HAVE to drive if she just had her wings still...), and she already knew playing her bass wasn’t going to be any better.

And she was right.

Pain. Everywhere. Bessie kept her jaw clenched tightly as she played through Ex-Wives and No Way and Don’t Lose Ur Head, but it was getting worse. Way worse.

Bessie did her best to focus on her bass and the show and those two things alone, but during Heart of Stone, she felt a tearing sensation that was accompanied by a ripping sound and shortly followed by a shriek of pure agony.

Bessie collapses.

Utter shock fills the theater. Everyone is frozen, staring with wide eyes, then Maria is lunging down to Bessie’s side and a stagehand in the wings is scrambling for the curtains. Once they’re closed, everyone backstage is moving, huddling around the fallen form of their bassist.

“What the hell is going on?” Aragon demands, clearly annoyed, “What’s wrong with her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Maria snapped back. She softens her voice when she starts to refer to Bessie, “Bessie, darling, can you hear me?”

The girl offers a tiny mumble, but nothing really more comprehensible than that.

“Sweetheart, you gotta tell us what’s-” Maria stops mid-sentence when she placed a hand on Bessie’s back and felt warmth beneath it. When she pulled back, her palm was red.

Blood.

“Get the costume off.” Maria orders immediately and Howard and Cleves both kneel down to help. Cleves unzips the zipper, revealing a bloody mess upon Bessie’s back and the split open, inflamed marks on her shoulder blades.

“What the fuck?” Anne muttered from the side.

“Why isn’t she wearing a bra?” Aragon commented, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Why is that the thing you zeroed in on?” Parr asked.

“Seems a little slutty to me, that’s all.” Aragon shrugged.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cleves warned, tipping her kestrel wings at the golden eagle. Aragon scowls, but quieted down for the moment.

Howard set a hang on the space between Bessie’s shoulder blades, seemingly feeling for something. She pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“What?” Maria asked.

“Do you think she’s growing wings?” Howard said.

That made Bessie squeak softly in alarm and Maria quickly hushed her by smoothing out the hair on her head.

“Doesn’t seem impossible,” Parr nodded, “She might be like Joan.”

“Yeah,” Joan agreed.

“It hurts...” Bessie whimpered softly, turning attention back to her, “It hurts... Please, please make it stop...”

“I know it hurts, sweetheart,” Maria murmured sadly, “I know. I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do until...”

“Until what?” Bessie asked quietly. She looked up at Maria, who is at a loss for words.

“Just try to relax.” Maria said instead. She felt Bessie loosen up a little in her lap and she smiled slightly, “That’s it. There you go... Good girl.”

The silence doesn’t stay for long, however. Bessie’s entire body suddenly shuddered violently and her shoulder blades seemed to flex further from her back until the flesh tore open wider. A shriek of agony ripped out of Bessie’s lips as she flailed and struggled in Maria’s lap, screaming and begging for the pain to end.

All while the others could only watch in horror as twin appendages started to grow out from her flesh before their very eyes.

Wrapped in a sheen of tissue and glistening with fluids, the limbs pushed out from her shoulder blades and into the open air. The one on the left came free easily because of the slippery slick coating it, but the right seemed to be stuck in the gash, which dragged out Bessie’s suffering.

The girl is still screaming bloody murder, kicking the ground and clawing up Maria’s legs. She chokes and sobs as the pain worsened and she slammed her head down into the drummer’s lap.

“It’s stuck!” Cleves yelled.

“Yeah, no shit!” Howard snapped back. “Fuck! Fuck! What do we do?!”

“Get it unstuck!” Parr said.

“I’ll do it.”

Jane was the one to step in to do this. She knelt down on the other side of Bessie and, with a deep breath, grabbed the wing with one hand and stuck her fingers into the gash with the other. This prompted Bessie to scream louder, if that was even possible, pleading with the silver queen to stop, please stop, please, please STOP-

But Jane didn’t.

“Hold her still.” She order in her queen voice, and Anna and Howard obeyed, pinning down Bessie’s arms and legs. Her one free wing was flapping, splattering their faces in blood and god knows what else, but they held strong.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Jane said over Bessie’s wailing. She dug and twisted her fingers around in the wound, feeling deteriorated flesh and muscles rub against her skin, but she didn’t let the disgust get to her. She narrowed her eyes and found the place that was caught. It seemed to be...a hook of sorts? But that was impossible... Avian wings were bird-like, there is no way there would be any kind of hooks or frays or snags.

Unless...

Jane swallowed hard in fright. She carefully pulled on the stuck portion, earning pained noises from Bessie, who was somehow still conscious through all of this. She pulled again and, this time, the skin gave way and the wing burst free.

Bessie goes limp in Maria’s lap, breathing heavily. She’s gasping and choking, struggling to get enough air into her burning lungs. The hand that had been stroking through her hair freezes for a moment before continuing its work.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Maria whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of Bessie’s head. “It’s over. You did it.”

“You have wings, liebling!” Cleves exclaimed, grinning widely.

Bessie mumbled something incomprehensible. She raised her head a little to try and look over her shoulder, but pain stopped her and she gave up. A few fresh tears slip out, as the achiness in her back has yet to die down.

“Wings?” She croaked out, eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s right,” Howard brushed some of her tears away, “You have wings, Bessie. They’re going to be so beautiful, sweetie, they are beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Aragon said. Her comment made rage bubble up in Cleves and she snapped her head to the golden queen, teeth gritted.

“What the fuck is your-” The kestrel stops, however, when she notices Jane wiping away some of the slick on Bessie’s right wing with her already-dirty hand.

There...weren’t any feathers.

“Someone get water.” Jane said urgently. “Now!”

Joan shot off of the stage with a beat of her white tern wings, and returns fairly quickly with a cup of water (since they didn’t have any bowls) and a rag. Jane quickly wets the cloth and began cleaning off Bessie’s right wing. When a large portion of blood and fluids was wiped away, Jane gasps, her eyes going wide.

“She...” She stammers, “She’s a bat.”

Anxious looks were exchanged, gasps sounded, even a few queens backed away, as the long-running superstition about bats kept them wry. Aragon narrowed her eyes.

“A bat loosed from hell.” She spat, “Oh, why am I not surprised?” She laughed cruelly, “Of course she would be one of those things!”

“Will you shut it?” Howard hissed, “It’s not that bad. It was a stupid superstition, anyway.”

“Wasn’t Francis a bat?” Aragon crossed her arms.

Howard freezes and then slowly craned her head around to look at the eagle. Her teeth are bared.

“Don’t you fucking dare bring him up,” She seethed. “Bessie isn’t- she isn’t-” Her rage is snuffed out like a candle. Hearing His voice being spoke by someone else wasn’t right. It made her feel like a helpless little fledgling all over again.

“That’s what I thought.” Aragon said. “Bats are horrible and disgusting creatures. Just like her.” She glared at Bessie.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Cleves snapped.

“I’m not talking to her, Anna, I’m talking about her.” Aragon tutted.

“What’s the fucking difference?! You’re still being a bitch!”

“Can we all please just stop fighting?” Joan tried to reason with everyone, “The audience can-”

“Fuck the audience!” Cleves roared, “Does it look like I care what the hell they think, Joan?!”

Joan flinched and backed away, lowering her head. She decided to just leave the stage, knowing she was going to have to do some damage control for the extended interruption, anyway.

“You don’t care about the audience?” Aragon raised one eyebrow and then laughed harshly, “Oh, you don’t even realize the fallout of this, do you? Not only was the show, which they paid a lot of money to come see, interrupted, but they also got to listen to this thing screaming like a baby.”

“She isn’t a thing.” Howard snarled.

“She is now.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Maria cried. She has finally reached her limit with all of this; her eyes glow like hot coals with her fury. “You have no fucking right treating Bessie like this because YOU’RE the reason she’s now like this! YOU took her wings away! YOU made her flightless! There’s no one to blame but YOU, Catalina, so she your damn mouth and stop acting like you’re the good guy here!”

“Don’t you know what she is, Maria?” Aragon growled, “She’s a bat. Bats eat birds.”

“Yeah, well so do eagles.” Maria challenged. She flexed her own wings, “So do vultures. Doesn’t make her special.”

“You know the stories tied behind those creatures,” Aragon said calmly, keeping her voice level, “You’ve heard them. You know why people hate them. We all hated them.” She turned to leave the stage, but stops for a moment, “Someone once told me to never trust a crow. I should have listened to her back then, but I will now, especially when that crow has turned into a bat.”

With that, she strides off to go help with damage control. Anne, Parr, and Maggie slowly follow, but not without Maggie glancing back for a second. Jane stays behind, busy cleaning Bessie’s wings.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Maria said quietly. She was finally hearing the commotion of the audience behind the curtains. She couldn’t even begin to process what they must be thinking.

“Yes, but I’ve already gotten started on grooming her, and who am I to stop?” Jane chuckles. She smiled a little when she felt Bessie’s wing flutter under her touch, “You know, I never understood why everyone hates bats. I mean, sure, I’ll admit that I was wry of them, but what for? Because their wings don’t have feathers?” She shook her head, “It doesn’t make sense.”

Her words hang in the air as she finishes up Bessie’s wings. She smiled at her handiwork, setting the rag to the side.

“There we go.” She said. “Oh my... Would you look at them?”

Despite lacking colorful feathers, Bessie’s wings were still frighteningly beautiful. They were a soft shade of black with dark brown areas here and there and were dappled with pale spots along the inside. The limbs were fuzzy and velvety to the touch, if not a bit bony.

“She has wings,” Howard murmured.

“Yeah,” Cleves said, equally as soft.

“M...Maria?”

Maria looked down, seeing Bessie’s dark eyes staring up at her. She smiled softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” The drummer said, “How are you feeling?”

“Achy,” Bessie replied, “Catalina’s mad at me, isn’t she?”

“Yes...but what else is new?”

That got the tiniest laugh out of Bessie.

“Let’s get you home, okay? You must be so tired.”

“I am.”

Bessie rolled over and stretched out her wings. It makes her muscles burn, but it also feels good to flex them. She almost smiles, but then she notices the horrified looks on Maria, Cleves, Howard, and Jane’s faces.

“Guys?”

[gumnut-logic]

Dirt (Part Six)

From here.

Lots of happening in this, bear with me for the necessary plot solutions (sooo hard to write, my goodness, hurts the brain). More emotive stuff in Part Seven to come ::hugs you all:: Many thanks to @vegetacide for reading and fielding my wibblies :D

-o-o-o-

John Tracy knew how to swear extensively in thirty-two different languages.

None of them were vile enough.

Who were these people? His fingers danced across searches, bringing up political situations, cross-referencing intel. The uniforms were legitimate, but the actions were not.

His brothers’ vital signs danced holographically in the corner of his eye. Alan was unconscious and well into hypovolemia, Virgil was showing signs of internal bleeding and Gordon had a hole in his shoulder.

Scott’s pulse rate was going for the record.

Colonel Casey was inbound, but John was not inclined to put all his trust in the GDF, godmother or not.

“John, I need detail.”

John shunted everything he had to Thunderbird Shadow. Their security officer was livid...of the calm and killing kind.

Lady Penelope was not far behind in mood or ETA. Several sharp and nasty communiques had flown back and forth between the American Embassy and FAB1, Penelope’s lilting tones cutting like knives.

Pink flashed and he automatically linked Penny in. “John, I have an identity. These are not genuine military, but a faction taking advantage of the disaster situation. I have spoken to their president and he claims the man at the centre of this is one Joshua Kasdan, a thug disguised as an extremist. I’ve found no connections to the Hood, but I suspect a copycat in any case. What is good for the goose, is good for the gander, if you get my meaning. He seeks power and influence and will do anything to get it. The Thunderbirds and your brothers stand for both.” She paused, composing herself just a little. “He has a bloodthirsty record, John. I feel negotiation will not give us the result we need.”

He silently agreed as that record scrolled past his eyes.

His eyes tracked back to the holographic tableau, head tilting in thought. It was like a game, pieces laid out on a board.

John’s shoulders shifted and his eyes narrowed.

Okay, you bastard.

Let’s play.

-o-o-o-

Gordon shoved away the hands that yanked him from the hole, his eyes grabbing for information on his brothers. Scott was pale, eyes staring at a limp Virgil strung between two of the assholes. His brother’s pain as they had forced him through the opening...

His eyes landed on Alan, crumpled in the dust.

His feet skidded in the dirt as he landed beside his little brother. One of the men grabbed at him, but Gordon shoved him off.

Whispered. “Allie?”

“Gords?” It was a rasp. So much meaning in one word.

“Hey there.” Gordon ran a vitals check and found exactly what he expected. Alan needed a hospital asap. “You hang in there, okay, bro?”

“Hang-ing.” Blue eyes blinked up at him. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” It was a lie. He had a hole in his shoulder that hurt like hell and he was in need of a hospital almost as much as Alan.

Virgil cried out and Gordon’s head shot up to find the asshole next to Scott prodding Virgil’s ribcage. A blur of motion as Scott rounded on the guy and sunk his fist into his face.

Gordon shot to his feet, ready to move, but it was over before it had begun. The two men holding Virgil dropped him, the engineer falling with a whimper and a groan, and grabbed Scott.

A gun nudged Gordon under his chin. A hand wrapped around his bicep and the intent was clear.

Alan was trying to sit up.

“Stay down, Alan.”

“But, Virgil-“

“Down!”

-o-o-o-

It was only stubbornness keeping Virgil conscious. Breathing hurt. God, it hurt. Something had shifted in his chest and was screaming at him. Another something was broken in his left shoulder. His medical training listed possibilities, but his comprehension was poor.

And they kept hurting him.

Why?

God, why?

When Scott rounded on the source of Virgil’s misery, his only thought was blessed relief as he fell. Contradictory thoughts soon followed involving worry for Scott, but it was all blanked out as his body whited out when hit the dirt.

He lost everything for a moment, there was only pain, but comprehension returned to find his big brother being hit repeatedly, “Sc-t!”

A foot was spared for him and he screamed.

So much screaming.

He curled up, desperate to protect himself.

Scott gasped as each punch hit home.

And the world began to roar.

A familiar roar.

His girl. His girl.

He opened his eyes to find his ‘bird airborne and moving in their direction.

She was beautiful.

So beautiful.

-o-o-o-

It was worth it.

The bastard spat out a tooth and no small amount of blood and Scott felt the tiniest of triumphs. His attention had moved from Virgil to Scott.

Objective achieved.

“You’ll regret that.”

Probably, but it was worth it. The two assholes who had held his brother wrenched Scott’s arms behind his back, exposing his belly for what he knew was coming.

He tensed his abdomen.

The fist hurt just as much as he expected.

And again.

Again.

The kick in his shin was a little unexpected and he stumbled.

But at least the bastard wasn’t hurting Virgil anymore.

Thunderbird Two fired up.

The man’s attention was drawn to the massive cargo ship and Scott took a moment to gather his strength.

John. Brains? Probably John. This was it.

TB2 roared, her VTOL launching her into a low hover.

“What are you doing?!”

Scott pinned him with his eyes. “Not a thing.”

“Hold him.” But there was only so much the man could do as Thunderbird Two turned towards them and accelerated. Four hundred and six tons of green and angry machine barrelled onto the site with the intent to mow down everything in her way.

“Hold him!”

The asshole pulled a gun, but there was only so much steel in his henchmen.

Cahelium is stronger than steel.

Thunderbird Two swooped low towards the soldiers and the two men holding him cut their losses and ran. Scott took a step towards their tormentor, but the gun was still sure in his hand. “Stay where you are.”

To Scott’s right, the Pod suddenly came to life, its dirt-covered claws charging in their direction.

Men scattered.

The air began to vibrate, Two’s VTOL heating the atmosphere as she loomed.

But the bastard held his ground, the gun still aimed at Scott.

Several of the men shot at Two, but her hull deflected the attack. One man went down, victim of a ricochet.

Two grew as massive as she was and those still standing ran.

“STOP!” The gun barrel was rammed into Scott’s left nostril as the man grabbed him. “Stop, or he dies!”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s priority was Alan.

He threw himself backwards, causing the man behind him to lose his balance. A sharp turn and Gordon dug his foot in the man’s face.

Three others dove for him and Gordon was hard put to keep them at bay. One pulled a gun and the aquanaut sent it flying, but the other two pulled theirs and he knew he had lost. “Okay, guys, let’s keep this calm-“

A sudden blast of hot air, a hiss of familiar engines and his sister leapt out of hazy air, fury in her expression. The two men didn’t stand a chance as she whipped around and almost decapitated them with her feet on the way down.

Gordon’s fist was then free to remove the remaining problem from the equation.

“Tin.” His voice was hoarse. “Glad you could join us.”

Her green eyes fixed on him, only spinning to punch another soldier on approach.

“STOP!” The man’s commanding voice was heard even above the roar of Thunderbird Two as he grabbed Scott and shoved his gun in their brother’s face. “Stop, or he dies!”

Two stopped where she was, but didn’t land.

Tin took a step towards her eldest brother.

The gun cocked.

-o-o-o-

It was as if a scene on the holovid was playing for him. People running, The approach of his beloved green ‘bird, her roar in his bones.

Scott held at gunpoint.

Scott.

His big brother.

A gun in his face.

Virgil stared at him, the man’s fury so evident, Virgil was surprised the gun barrel hadn’t melted.

“And if this one’s death isn’t enough to convince you, I can easily fill his brother full of holes for extra entertainment.” He gestured at Virgil.

Scott held at gunpoint.

“What do you want?”

Virgil blinked. That was Kayo’s voice. When did she arrive? His thoughts were sluggish and he was finding it hard to connect things together.

The gunman was gesturing again, yelling something about Virgil’s ‘bird. He was staring somewhere off to the right.

Scott’s eyes flickered worriedly in Virgil’s direction for just a split second before once again narrowing in on his assailant.

Thunderbird Two was hovering behind them.

His beautiful ‘bird.

Virgil blinked again.

He was slumped on his left side, moving hurt like hell and it was slow.

Another blink and he reached for his remote. Breath hissed out between his teeth.

A flick of his fingers...they were shaking, god, they were shaking. Concentrate. Scott, the controls and his ‘bird all blurred a moment.

He clenched his jaw.

Focus.

A flick of his fingers and he deployed Two’s forward grapple cannon. Targeting.

Green.

Slow blink.

Green.

Fire.

-o-o-o-

 Part Seven

[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I”m gonna reach for your hand) pt. 12 “Enemies, and their Power”

Part 11

AO3 link

Being American, I reserve the right to make digs at the U.S.

--

Pidge took a deep gulp from her caffeinated fruit-tea (God bless Hunk, honestly). The hangar where Hunk, Lotor, and Allura worked on the quintessence ships was huge and had catwalks all along the walls. Pidge had hit dead end after dead end with tracking Haggar through the clone until she was absolutely ready to scream. Once she realized she was just staring at the wall instead of working, Pidge took her equipment from the Green hangar to perch on one of the catwalks.

Allura had just walked out to go to the bridge. She passed by Pidge’s perch close enough that Pidge overheard her conversation with Lance – those comm earrings were pretty loud.

Keith was such a fucking hypocrite.

Pidge had never quite forgotten the day that, over a year ago, Keith yelled at her for trying to leave Voltron and find her family. He’d hurled accusations at her like a firing squad. He’d called her selfish. That’d hit too close to home. She remembered his voice echoing in her head alongside the voices of school kids who’d said she was cold or weird or didn’t care about anyone but her robots. She didn’t get that expectation that she had to feel for strangers; it’s not like she had the time or energy to prioritize everyone in the world.

Of course Pidge had learned a lot since then. There was such a thing as caring without that visceral wrench in her stomach. She could understand and prioritize the good for people she didn’t know and love. There was such a thing as empathy without instinct.

But it wasn’t fair that Keith thought he could run away from the war he used to dive headfirst into. He’d been all invested when Shiro had been here, when he’d had his family. He shouldn’t talk about selfish.

Pidge hoped Lance would snap him out of whatever weird-ass funk this was. If she had to work despite her grief then so did Keith.

Meanwhile, the Shiro-clone was still in stasis. Presumably, if he was being monitored, manipulated, and controlled by Haggar, it would be through the mechanical arm. It’s probably not as efficient as having it hooked up directly to the brain, but Hunk was certain that access through the shoulder into the central nervous system was sufficient. Even with the change of scenery (which often helped her think) Pidge was about ready to throw her laptop at the wall, though, because no matter what she tried the arm software was a fucking dead end.

Actually, no, never the laptop no matter how angry or frustrated she got. That computer was her baby. She’d built it back on Earth and added a ton of Altean modifications to the hardware – including some incredibly impressive RAM that allowed her to multitask like a crazy person and put the computer’s original 64 GB to shame.

Pidge pulled up the clone’s medical records. The cryo-pod did a full body scan twice a varga and she’d linked the data to continuously upload to her laptop (thank you, alien random access memory), focusing on the CNS. And –

Okay, that was different. The original clone scans showed no distinction between those of the real Shiro, allowing for expected discrepancies on the cellular and molecular levels due to time passing. One of the things the pods monitored closely was an individual’s quintessence. She was no biologist, but Pidge did grasp the basic concepts of thermodynamics and the quintessence seemed to be deteriorating. She didn’t know what it meant, though.

A hefty creaking noise distracted her. Hunk pulled his way onto the catwalk and settled in beside her. “Pidge. Can I chew your ear for a minute?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Lotor went to make some, uh, conference calls, I think.”

Pidge glared at the computer screen and decided to fuck it, she’s not getting anywhere with this anyway. “Yeah, why not. Shoot.”

Hunk blew out a puff of air. “We’ve made a lot of progress on the technology. Allura’s been working on adapting the ships to travel between universes and I’m really close to finding the most efficient ways to collect and contain the energy. It’s just, um…what if we aren’t doing the right thing here, Pidge?”

She eyed him. “If we can end the war without more war, I’m all for it. I know I wasn’t on board at first, and I’m no economist, but this seems like a good way to stabilize the universe.”

“I’m just thinking. Humans and galra have one big thing in common: exhausting resources. Sure, the quintessence field seems endless now, but the same can be said for every single resource humans overexploited in history. We don’t know how this could affect the universe.” He was getting worked up.

“Hunk.” Pidge placed a hand on his wrist, knowing he takes comfort from even small touches. “You’re a huge part of this project. You and Allura can find a way to make this harvesting sustainable.”

He hummed. His bushy eyebrows drew together.

Pidge continued, “Is this really the only thing bugging you?”

“I’m not…convinced doing this harvesting will lead to peace. Like, I get why Lotor thinks this will solve things,” Hunk said in a low voice. “Increase supply, satisfy demand, spare bad harvesting practices etc. But what do the galra need all this quintessence for?”

“I don’t know, space ships? Power grids? Fuel?…Weapons?”

“Exactly. These guys have been conquering for thousands of years. How can we be sure they won’t just keep conquering when we hand over the power?”

Pidge massaged her temples. “I hear you Hunk, but I’m way out of my depth here. I’d rather trust that Allura and Lotor know way more about alien politics and economics than I do, you know, being born rulers and everything.”

“Since when did you trust Lotor?”

Pidge finally tore her eyes away from the screen and leaned in close to Hunk. “I trust Allura. Do you, do you think Lotor can pull the wool over her eyes?”

“Yeah, well, the man has only been a military strategist for several millennia, I think it’s probable.”

Pidge pulled up another window. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been keeping up with the news. Lotor is on the manhunt for any and all galra factions who don’t pledge loyalty to him. And most of the ones who have are extracting their control over recently conquered sectors. It’s a start.”

“How do you completely reform a culture that’s built on war and conquest?”

“Rome and America became republics, didn’t they?”

Hunk groaned and rubbed his eyes. “It’s so complicated. I wish I could just fix up these ships and that would automatically make everything okay.”

She patted his shoulder. “I know the feeling. I’m confused here, too. Look.”

“Aren’t those scans of the fake Shiro? Why…man I can’t read these, why’s the blue glowing in the middle getting dimmer in each picture?”

“It’s his quintessence. It’s deteriorating. But look, it didn’t start until after we put him in stasis, see? The readings are exactly the same between the scan of Shiro and the very first scan of the clone.”

Understanding lit up Hunk’s face. Good, good, thermodynamics were safe, comprehensible ground. “And that’s when the energy started wasting away. Nothing’s regenerating the quintessence. Pidge, Haggar’s magic!”

She banged her fist on the catwalk. The echoing clang make Hunk flinch. “Of course! I should’ve figured that out. If it doesn’t make sense, then magic.” She huffed a sigh. “But if there’s no magic connected to the clone then that means I can’t trace it. It’s another dead end.”

Hunk was quiet for a few minutes, while Pidge stewed in her failure.

"Although," Hunk said, "Zarkon was obsessed with quintessence for his own personal use. He's gone now and if we get rid of Haggar too, then the demand should go down significantly. She's our biggest threat right now and with so much of the military devoted to Lotor he should be able to keep the rogues in check, right?"

Pidge shut her laptop. "See, you figured it out. What do you need me for."

---

“So let me get this straight.”

It was first thing in the morning, and they were in the Blade-equivalent of a conference room with Krolia and Kolivan. Lance pressed his fingertips to his temple like he was trying to organize something in his head (except in Keith’s experience, that usually happened out loud).

Lance gestured to Krolia. “You were undercover at Ranveig’s base, where he intercepted mega-powerful quintessence and accidentally used it to create a terrifying robeast but without the robot parts. Which you both then sic-ed onto a different general attacking the base so you could escape and presumably that thing is still on the planet.

“And you’ve tracked the quintessence to its source but it’s guarded by impenetrable space-time anomalies and we don’t know who was shipping it.”

Keith said, “It does fit Haggar’s M.O.”

Lance sighed. “We should call the Castle of Lions and get them in on this meeting.”

--

Pidge just about leapt out of her skin (and did leap out of her bed) at the loud, insistent banging on her door. She tripped over something on her floor and narrowly avoided face-planting in a pile of dirty socks.

“Pidge! Pidge, wake up!”

Vision still kinda fuzzy from sleep, she scrambled to her feet to slam her hand against the door panel. It hissed open as Hunk prepared to pound on it again. Had he been any shorter he would have punched Pidge in the head, but as it was his fist met thin air and he had to windmill his arms to not fall on her.

“Hunk! What is it? What’s happening?” Pidge demanded.

“Whoa, hey chill out. There’s no emergency.”

She glared at him. “Did you just scare me awake for shits and giggles? Do you have any idea how loud it is when you bang on a metal surface?!”

Because he was the worst, Hunk flat-out ignored her tirade. “Your brother, Lance, and Keith want everyone on a conference call. We’ve been trying to wake you up for half an hour.”

Pidge took a deep breath in through her nose. Then let it out. “If you value our continued friendship, you will get me the largest canteen you can find and fill it to the brim with the not-coffee. And it better fucking be hot.”

It was hot, and she and everyone else were soon in front of multiple huge screens showing her brother, her missing teammates, Kolivan, and another galra she didn’t recognize. The first thing that happened was Keith held up a placating hand before Allura could lay into him.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry for leaving without telling you guys why. I got overwhelmed and needed to do something. But it won’t happen again.”

Allura drummed her fingers irritably. “It better not.”

“And by something,” Lance interjected, “Keith here means he had to have some face time with his LONG LOST MOTHER. Guys, meet Krolia, Keith’s galra mom!”

Pidge choked mid-drink and spewed liquid all over Hunk. Fucking what????

“Pidge, did you just do an actual spit take?” Lance demanded, blatantly ignoring the irritated glare Keith was shooting him.

“Did you deliberately wait until I was taking a sip to say that?”

“Depends.”

“Okay, you two can flirt later,” Matt said. Lance’s entire face and neck flushed. “We have important news.”

They proceeded to explain the quintessence the super-powerful quintessence, the spacetime equivalent of a minefield they’d tracked it to, and their suspicions that Haggar was somehow mining it to fuel her military and her magic.

Pidge downed the rest of her “caffeine” in two gulps.

“We believe the source is behind the quantum abyss, rather than the abyss itself,” Kolivan was explaining. “If we can cut Haggar off from her major quintessence supply then we stand a far greater chance at permanently vanquishing her forces.”

Krolia spoke, “The tricky part is navigating the abyss. It requires precise calculations and the consequences of being trapped inside would be dire.”

“Hunk, Pidge, think you can work through those calculations?” Keith asked.

They responded with a synchronous “probably.” Pidge thanked God she now had a new project to work on. One more day with the stupid clone arm and she was gonna lose her hair.

“I believe I know where that quintessence is coming from.” Lotor’s cool voice silenced the entire room. Pidge noticed with shock that his face had gone paper-white. He looked like the ghost of a general rather than a living emperor.

“It is a place I have not been to in some time."

Part 13

[afjakwritesarchive]

Title: Some Things Never Change (5/5) Pairing: USUK Words: 2,979 Rating: T AU: Human Genre: Romance Summary: After Alfred develops amnesia, Arthur must win back the love of his fiancee while competing with Alfred’s ex-boyfriend, Ivan. A/N: Wow, I’m already finished!! Thank you so so much for supporting this fic and I hope you babes enjoyed it! If you have any feedback, feel free to let me know! <3  Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3  Chapter 4 

To Arthur’s disdain, he had to resume his job two days after bringing Alfred home. As much as he apologized to Alfred, the American insisted that it was alright and that he understood. He reasoned that he would most likely have to get used to saying goodbye to him during the day since at least one of them had to work, but Arthur still considered asking for another week off from his job. He eventually decided against it after it was decided that Matthew would come to check on Alfred every day on his lunch break for the next week or two to make sure all was well.

Thus, Arthur went to work. He spent the majority of the day entirely distracted, unable to think of anything other than his fiancee. He’d never been the clingy type, but it took all of his self-restraint not to constantly text Alfred and check in. He knew that the American was most likely in no danger—the house may be unfamiliar, but there was nothing particularly dangerous within. Alfred was no idiot (although he did seem to lack common sense in some areas) and he could certainly manage on his own. Still, the thought of him being alone in a strange home with nothing to do and nowhere to go tugged at Arthur’s heartstrings.

When he was finally able to leave work, he practically sprinted to his car. He sped out of the parking lot in a hurry, making it home in record time. He rushed up the stairs to their apartment and was about to open the door when he heard Alfred speaking from within. Arthur’s thick brows furrowed. Strange—it was far past Matthew’s lunch break, and Arthur was quite certain Alfred wasn’t in any mood to have guests. Unless… Arthur’s eyes widened and he pressed his ear to the door, listening intently.

Inside, Alfred’s voice was slightly muffled but comprehensible. “Ivan, you know I care about you, I just… Yeah, I know. I know. I miss you too. You know I do!” There was a long pause and then Alfred sighed heavily. “I-I know, I just… We broke up for a reason, didn’t we? Why don’t you just tell me?” Another pause. “I—I don’t know what I want! I barely know him! I just know that he’s been nicer to me in four days than you are—were—most of the time! I feel something when I’m with him. No, no, Ivan, wait—”

Arthur chose this moment to open the door and step inside, hurriedly storming toward the living room. “Alfred?” He asked, his tone somewhat angry.

Alfred looked up and his eyes went wide. “Arthur!” He exclaimed, quickly ending the call and tossing his phone onto the couch. “I-I was just—”

“On the phone with Ivan, talking about how much you miss him.” Arthur deadpanned.

Alfred’s face fell. “I’m just confused,” he replied. “I was in love with him for so long and when I woke up I thought I still was! Ivan and I have been together for so long, I-I—”

“You’re not being fair to me, Alfred.” Arthur interrupted once more. “You have to decide what you want! You can’t have us both!”

“I know that!” Alfred cried, raising his voice to match Arthur’s volume. “You’re the one who's not being fair to me! I don’t even know you! How can you expect me to make a choice like that?! Ivan and I have been together two years, and I’ve known you for four days! I-I don’t remember years of my life, Arthur!”

“You said you wanted to come here and stay with me! This is our house, damn it! I don’t want you calling your exes to tell them how much you miss them—especially not him!” Arthur huffed, growing angrier despite knowing that he should be calming down for Alfred’s sake.

Hurt and pain was written plainly across Alfred’s face. “H-How can you be so mean?! You told me you were going to stand by me no matter what and help me through this!”

“And I will, damn it! But that doesn’t mean I’ll give you my blessing to run off with another man! You and I are together, Alfred! If you give me a goddamned chance and don’t run to Ivan the second you’re alone, I’ll prove to you that we’re a better match than you and him ever were!”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t really seem like it right now!” Alfred yelled back, his eyes becoming glossy.

Arthur threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, that’s not fair at all! If you knew what he’s done to you, you would be on my side!”

“This isn’t about whose side I’m on anymore! Y-You’re mad at me over something I can’t control! How can you expect me to just run back to you when I don’t even know you?!”

“You do know me, damn it! You’re my fiance! It’s reasonable that I don’t want you calling other men!”

“Not when I have amnesia and I’m trying to figure out what the fuck is going on!” Alfred huffed. Tears were spilling from his eyes now and he rushed past Arthur toward the door, leaving the apartment before any more could be said.

The door slammed roughly behind him and Arthur let out a loud huff of frustration. Then, his shoulders slumped as anguish suddenly set in. He turned toward and then fell down upon it, dropping his head into his hands. As he recounted the argument in his head, his eyes burned and his shoulders began to shake with sobs.

God, Alfred had been right. Arthur thought back upon his harsh words to the American and began to cry harder. How could he have ever been so insensitive? Alfred was right—Arthur was sure that he would act similarly were he in the same situation. Alfred was simply looking for any source of familiarity, and Arthur had no right to be upset with him for it. Arthur couldn’t believe how blind, how idiotic, he’d been to treat Alfred in such a way. Not only had he been entirely wrong, but now Alfred’s opinion of him was certainly negative. Alfred would probably go running directly to Ivan, and Arthur wouldn’t blame him.

Arthur turned and laid down on the couch, pulling a pillow into him for comfort. He clung to it and closed his eyes, allowing himself to cry for a moment as he waited for Alfred to return. When they fought like this, Alfred often left for a minute or two, but he always came back after a walk down the block to cool his head. Then, they would be able to talk things through calmly, and Arthur promised himself that he would apologize to Alfred and beg him for forgiveness.

It was only after Arthur had waited ten minutes for Alfred to return that he realized very suddenly that Alfred wasn’t familiar with the area. No wonder he wasn’t back yet—he probably didn’t know where he was. Arthur leapt off the couch and grabbed his phone, dialing Alfred’s number in a frenzy. When he heard the familiar ringtone from beside him, he looked over and noted Alfred’s phone, sitting on the couch and blaring ‘God Save the Queen.’ Arthur’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Immediately, Arthur rushed out the door to their apartment and down the street. He had no idea where to go—Alfred was rather unpredictable, and he could have gone anywhere. Still, he had to try; if he didn’t find Alfred and something happened, he’d never forgive himself.

Arthur wandered around the area surrounding their apartment for almost ten minutes before finally catching sight of Alfred seated on a bench outside of a cafe, looking down at his lap and fiddling absently with his thumbs. Relieved, Arthur called out his name and ran to him, stopping when he was standing directly in front of him.

Alfred looked up at him with the traces of tear-tracks still clear on his face, his eyes red and puffy. Arthur’s heart drooped and he nearly began to cry again seeing the hurt he’d put the man he loved through.

“Alfred, I’m sorry. You were right, love. I’ll be patient with you, I swear it to you. Whatever you think is necessary, I promise I’ll help you and support you. I love you, Alfred. I don’t want to lose you.”

Alfred stared at him for a moment, shocked. Then, he scooted over on the bench and patted the spot beside him. Arthur sat down beside him and slowly reached out, gently laying his hand over Alfred’s.

“I’m sorry too,” Alfred said, turning his palm over as he took Arthur’s hand in his. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you. I need to be fair to you, Arthur.”

Arthur shook his head. “You do, but I also need to be fair to you. It wasn’t right for me to ask you to make a decision like that. I know you need time. If you need to see him or speak to him more to make a decision, I’ll respect that too. But you need to know how much I love you, Alfred. No matter what, I will be here for you, ready to take care of you in every way I can.” Arthur promised, looking him in the eyes as he spoke.

Alfred smiled gently and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,’ he murmured. “I do want to see him again. I need to know why we broke up, and he keeps avoiding it. But… When we kissed, Arthur… I swear, I’ve never felt something like that before. It felt better than I could have ever imagined.”

Arthur looked to Alfred and grinned. “You said the same thing after we kissed for the first time. That you didn’t know it could be so amazing.”

Alfred laughed a bit. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Arthur smiled and scooted closer. “Mhm, yes, but it’s endearing. Besides, I was the same way—I’ve never felt anything so wonderful as your skin on mine. Every kiss is like the first time.”

Alfred smiled and stood up, pulling Arthur up with him. “Can you take me home?” He asked.

Arthur nodded. “There’s a park over there with a beautiful garden this time of year. Would you mind going the long way?” He asked.

“Sounds nice,” Alfred said. “Do you… D’you mind if I put my arm around you?” He asked carefully, flushed.

“No, dear, not at all.” Arthur said, smiling fondly. He smiled as Alfred tugged him closer and then he felt the familiar, comforting press of the American’s arm across his shoulders. He leaned into him and they walked together, talking quietly to one another.

When they finally arrived home, Alfred smiled softly and tugged Arthur to the couch. “Do you mind if I invite Ivan over tomorrow? We’ll just talk, I swear.”

Arthur felt a pang of hurt in his chest, but he nodded. Alfred needed him to be supportive right now, and he knew that the American deserved answers. “Of course. But I’d like it if he could come over later so that I can speak to him when I’m off work, if that’s alright.”

Alfred nodded. “Alright. I’ll have him come over like an hour before you get here so we can talk about everything, and then you can talk to him.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you.”

Alfred smiled softly back at him. “Arthur…” He murmured, drawing the Brit closer to him. “I really like you, and I’m sorry to put you through this.”

“Don’t apologize.” Arthur told him gently. “I want this for you, Alfred. I want you to understand as much as you can. It’s only fair that you try to find out what happened in your past, especially with a man you were with for such a long time.”

Alfred smiled gently and then leaned forward, giving Arthur a quick peck to the lips. When he pulled away, his face was red in a way Arthur couldn’t help but to find incredibly endearing. He hadn’t seen Alfred’s shy side in a long time, and it was a sweet reminder of how the American had been when they’d first started dating.

“I’ll make us dinner.” Arthur said, smiling gently and patting Alfred’s knee as he stood.

(LINE BREAK)

Once again, Arthur returned home to the sound of Alfred speaking. This time, though, Alfred’s voice was accompanied by another familiar one—that of Ivan.

Ivan was speaking loudly, clearly angry. Arthur was also sure he was hearing sniffling, as though Alfred was crying.

“I-I just don’t understand! Why would I—I-I would never do something like that! I know I wouldn’t! I would never cheat, no matter what!” Alfred cried, his voice watery. Arthur suspicions were confirmed—he was crying.

“But you did,” Ivan hissed angrily. “It’s in the past, Alfred. I’m willing to forgive you, but only if you leave Arthur and come stay with me instead.”

“I—I can’t make a decision like that right now!” Alfred cried.

Arthur’s chest burned with anger. He could hardly believe what he was hearing! Ivan was blatantly lying to Alfred! Not only that, but he was pressuring the American in a moment of weakness. It was despicable.

“You made the decision to come here and stay with him, didn’t you? Is there something you’re not telling me, Alfred? If you’re willing to sacrifice everything we had for a man you hardly know, then tell me now so I don’t waste my time.” Ivan snarled angrily.

“You’re—You’re not giving me a chance to fucking think!” Alfred cried angrily. “I don’t know, Ivan, I just wanted to know why we broke up!”

“We broke up because you made a shitty decision. Tell me now, Alfred: do you have feelings for Arthur?”

There was a pause for a moment. Then, Alfred spoke. “Yes, alright?! He’s nice and romantic and he says things you would never say to me! He’s treated me better in four days than you treated me the whole time we were together!”

“Fine, then you can stay with him! But when all the sweet words disappear and you’re left with a man you don’t love, don’t come crying to me. I won’t be there to pick up the pieces. You left me for someone else once—I’m not going to let you do it again.”

At this, Arthur could no longer stop himself. He burst into the house and stormed angrily into the living room, advancing on Ivan and landing a punch to his jaw before anything could be said. Ivan let out a cry of shock and stumbled back.

“Arthur!” Alfred cried loudly, gaping in shock.

Arthur looked to Alfred and the sight of tears on his face only enraged him further. He turned to Ivan. “You lying bastard! Don’t you ever accuse Alfred of cheating on you! We both know what really happened between you! If you ever—and I mean ever—make Alfred cry again after all that you’ve put him through, you’ll get a lot worse than a sore jaw!”

Ivan was standing, wide-eyed and gaping, with a hand to his face. His cheeks were colored with shame, as though embarrassed to have been caught. “I-I—”

“No, now I get to speak.” Arthur whirled around to face his fiancee. “Alfred, you didn’t cheat on Ivan; he cheated on you. He’s lying to guilt trip you, like he always did. Not only have I heard far too many stories about his despicable behavior, but I’ve seen it more than once. Calling and texting you all hours of the day and night, threatening Matthew and I, trying to get your mutual friends to talk to you on his behalf. It was only after Katyusha and Natalia intervened that he stopped! And then he walks back into your life as though he cares so much—has he told you yet that he hadn’t seen you for three years prior to your hospitalization?”

Alfred looked to Ivan with his eyes widened in horror. “I-Is that true, Ivan?” He asked shakily.

Ivan looked down, remaining silent. Then, he leaned down and took his coat from the couch. “I think I should go.” He muttered.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest and glared darkly. “Damn right it is.”

Alfred and Arthur stood silently as Ivan left, waiting until he’d left to speak.

“...Thanks.” Alfred said gently.

Arthur looked to him and nodded. “I—I’m sorry I got upset and intervened. He was lying to your face, Alfred, and I couldn’t stand hearing him treat you that way.”

Alfred came forward and took Arthur’s hand in his. “Does it hurt?” He asked worriedly.

“No, don’t worry.” Arthur murmured, looking up to Alfred softly. “Are you alright?”

“I am now.”

“I hope you don’t think worse of me now. I don’t usually hit people, I swear. That man invokes a special sort of anger within me.”

Alfred laughed some. “No, I don’t think worse of you. Seeing you do that just reassured me that I made the right choice in coming to stay with you. Ivan would have never defended me like that. I should’ve known he’d lie—he always did.”

Arthur reached for his hand and Alfred took it. “I’m sorry.” Arthur said softly.

“Don’t be. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Arthur felt warmth blossom in his chest and he couldn’t help but to grin. With Alfred close and Ivan out of the picture, he knew they could endure anything. Even if Alfred never recovered his memory, they would move forward together, stronger than ever.

So, when Alfred tugged Arthur closer and kissed him, Arthur gladly reciprocated and flung his arms around the American’s neck, kissing him happily. And when two weeks passed and Alfred woke on a Saturday morning with his memory returned to him, Arthur could only kiss him in giddy excitement.

[yes-this-is-sam]

Ok, I’m just going to be real on here for a minute. For my friends, for my girl, and for everyone else on here who needs to know, deep down, that someone else gets it. 

This is not a one-up story. This is not for pity. You don’t have to read it or care. This is so someone who is struggling with the weight of the world in their lungs or trying to decide if what they feel is real and how to handle it... knows that someone else out there went through the same fucked up emotions and is here to talk. To vent. To reach out. So you don’t have to feel alone. I don’t care if we’re mutuals. I don’t care if I’ve never met you before in my life. I WILL be here and try to help you as much as I can. 

There is depression in this. Abuse. Mental illness. Suicidal ideation. This is what I’ve gone through and I don’t want it to trigger you, so please don’t feel like you HAVE to read it. 

I’ve struggled with trying to decide if I even SHOULD make this post. But I know, in my heart, I fought through all of this so I could understand and help others who struggle. And I can’t reach out and help those people unless they know I’m here. So I apologise that this isn’t ME related. That this isn’t fun or nice. I won’t bring it up again. But it’s here. 

It kind of started when I came over from England to the States. At least, that’s the earliest I can remember. Kids making fun of the accent, making fun of being shy, making fun of liking books (No. Really. I read dictionaries for fun folks), of being the teachers pet. Especially because they moved me up a grade. OH HELL that set me up hard. I did not handle the culture shock well, a lot of people might say I NEVER got past it. 

(Heh my brain is trying to get me to skip over all this cause everyone knows kids get bullied but fuck I will not belittle what I felt.)

No kid, especially that young, handles being isolated well. Now, there’s a difference between liking being on your own, which I do, and being forcibly isolated. It is Not Good. Those very important years laid the groundwork for every single thing that happened later on. It created the insecurity, anxiety, and need to be accepted that damn near ruined me. 

I would do ANYTHING. Anything. To make people like me because I needed to not feel so alone. 

My only friends in middle school were a spy ring, none of whom I remember well, to voluntarily keep track of rumours and threats to my safety. I was beaten up. I went to my parents, to teachers. Everyone discounted what I was saying and I couldn’t tell if it was because I couldn’t say it right or if they just weren’t listening. Most of these years I don’t remember. I have massive gaping chunks of lost memory. Or memories that come back looking like a weird acid trip scene in a movie. I had a boy who would follow me home from the school bus stop yelling names at me from across the street. 

I went nonverbal for almost four years. It was not pretty. My parents were angry and frustrated and concerned. I was -pissed-. I was terrified and hurt. My words had failed no matter how I tried to twist them so they obviously weren’t any good. I became bitter and nasty, completely distant from any form of socialisation. It took so much effort to even breathe that it was painful. I stopped leaving the house, or even my room if I could help it. I’d have to crawl going up the stairs because I’d get winded halfway up if I stood up and walked. I stopped showering, brushing my teeth, stopped eating. Started hating every inch of myself. 

High school, if at all possible, got worse. My parents finally tried to take me to get help. The guy sat with me for all of 10 minutes and diagnosed me with ADD. Put me on Adderall. For those who haven’t been given this drug before, the long-term side affects include depression, hostility, and paranoia. Three things I already had in spades. I started punching myself. Punching hard objects. Biting and scratching myself. It became so habitual that the only times I would get that blessed serotonin were when I did hurt myself. The pain was the only thing that would clear my head and let me calm down and think straight. I got completely addicted to it, but I knew cutting was a problem so I never did that. If I didn’t, it wasn’t that bad, right? Then one day I blacked out and came to attempting to hang myself. It wouldn’t have worked, something would have snapped. But it still happened. I would still daydream about throwing myself out of moving cars. Down high things. I would zone out and wake up holding a steak knife in my hands trying to talk myself out of cutting cause “No, cutting is too far” and instead I started carving hateful things about myself and my family into my bedroom walls. Rage was in my veins, not blood. 

When I did try talking again, just before the Adderall fiasco, I realised quickly in ninth grade that I had the societal equivalent of a 5th grade emotional and social comprehension. I was humiliated that I was so far behind. It took years to even start thinking and acting like a typical teenager, albeit a very angry hateful one. When I did finally get off the Adderall, I thought I’d been angry and resentful before but ha now someone had tried to help and only made things worse and they still wouldn’t listen. “Stop being a brat” and “you’re normal you’re just hormonal” were two of the best ways to set me off. But at school I was cold as ice. I was the scary one who collected the out of control bad kids like war dogs. And finally people would leave me alone. 

In my senior year I got tired of being the bad one and tried to fight it all into a tight bottle. Make it ALL go away and try to be the sweet girl my parents remembered. And then boys started noticing me. Devon who would slide his hand up my skirt at the lunch table (to this day I don’t wear anything with a skirt unless it’s floor length) or that time he invited me to a party and then trapped me in a room with him and his ex-girlfriend and tried to pressure me into some exploration. I couldn’t say no to anyone. As scary as I’d made myself out to be, I would lay down and do anything to try and prove I could have friends. And people knew that. Get me into a situation and ask me to do something like that and I didn’t want to, I’d sit there for ten minutes staring at floors, walls, hands, begging myself to say no but frozen listening to this pressure cause I couldn’t. And then someone would open a door and I’d make a break for it. CJ who got me to hang out with him alone and because I couldn’t make myself say no, forced me to allow him to touch things I didn’t want touched. 

I have had to scream this at myself every day for seven years: it doesn’t matter that I didn’t SAY no. I did NOT want it. It was CLEAR that I did not want it. If you have to talk someone up THAT hard, push them where you want them to go, that is assault whether the word no is said or not. 

I took a year off after high school and hid in my home again. Praying it was over, that it would just get better. I was so tired, exhausted to the bone and soul, of fighting everything on my own. I didn’t tell my parents for over a year about CJ and Devon... and while my dad got angry, my mother (who is also a victim of depression and sexual assault) for YEARS after still believed I was just saying that because I was embarrassed to say I’d been experimenting. I had absolutely no support structure and a gaping sensitive wound in my chest that just wanted someone to love me and say I was wanted and safe. That groundwork from when I was a kid had scaffolding and a first floor built. My first year of college I fucking let myself get pressured into acts I didn’t want again because I didn’t want to lose my terrible boyfriend or my terrible friends. I almost accepted letting my best friend of fourteen years tell me that, and I quote cause this shit is still burned into my mind from 2012 “You’re an embarrassment to have around my friends and should be kept on a leash”. But between my, now ex, and her new boyfriend who was over 10 years older than her and a manipulative sociopath, I snapped and all that bottled up anger came out in a flash of red. I don’t know what I said but she ran off crying and I never hung out with them again. 

I stayed alone for a while after that. I needed to get myself together. Started keeping a tally of days I wouldn’t hurt myself, trying to focus on school work even though I still couldn’t get out of bed. Tried to make myself eat more than once every three days, started keeping tallies of that. Got about twenty THOUSAND dollars worth of work done on my teeth over a five year period, including wisdom teeth removal. God it was like dragging myself through mud with twenty pound weights on each leg. Every day it was three steps back one forward. It never got easier. The trust never came. I never felt better about myself. 

Then, when I hit maybe around 22, I say maybe because even for those years I still have massive memory gaps, I started seeing improvement. Some scattered good days. Days where I was still depressed but could laugh and smile, awkwardly hang out with the one or two people I’d allowed to stay. I started realising that, if I could just wrap my hands around this monster ruling my head and chest and wrangle it, I could live with it. I could force a balance and co-exist with it. Cause that fucker wasn’t going away, never. I would still flinch if anyone touched me. To this day no one can stand behind me and I HAVE to hear you coming from any direction or I will have a complete panic attack. But I could live with that. 

I figured out what worked and, slowly and trying to be gentle with myself, pushed myself through each day into a rhythm. A weak sort of balance. Started getting stronger. 

Then I met Matt. Tall, wicked smooth, handsome as hell and knew it. Proud of the fact that he could manipulate anyone, get whatever he wanted. Well that ended up being me. I fell head over heels with the charm. In only a few months he convinced me that we could move out of state and make it work. He got me totally isolated. I wasn’t allowed to sing. Tap my toothbrush on the sink to clean it. Drive with the windows down. If he wanted to go spend the night at another girl’s house I had to let him but if he was home, I couldn’t even be on my computer. At first sleeping with him was easy. It meant literally nothing, had no emotion, so that made it feel safe somehow. But god forbid someone actually have a crush on me and want to hold my hand or every red flag would go sky high and leave me keeping furniture between me and that person at all times. But then I didn’t want it anymore. The rush of feeling like I’d beat my own head at its games wore off. Of course.... that didn’t stop him. And I still hadn’t learned how to say no, if I tried he’d just convince me I was wrong. I worked, did all the chores. He flipped in and out of jobs and then just... stopped working, hanging out with girls and whoever else he wanted to. Then up and moved to Colorado without me, saying he’d make it rich and bring me out there too. After a few weeks without him constantly near me... it finally started registering what had been happening for a year. That I had been completely broken down and abused and I thought I’d been happy despite the daily panic attacks and the loss of all the self-worth I’d fought so hard for. And I called my dad and he drove from Virginia to Kentucky to pick me up and get me back home.

Matt came back to Virginia soon after and I tried to patch things up. He was angry he had to leave some of his things behind and I was too scared to tell him it was over. But the thoughts were whirling in my head and he couldn’t stop them unless he was right there with me and we were living an hour apart. I was trying to figure out how to make it stop when one day he choked me and I figured out the only way to do so. So when I left that day, I blocked him on every device and never spoke to him again. It’s been almost two years and I know without a doubt if I ran into him again it would take him minutes to get into that part of my brain again. I’d fight it off but that fear and self-doubt would be so real. 

This year I got into therapy finally. Took her four sessions to diagnose me with PTSD and I actually told her I had known but refused to call it that because I didn’t want people to think I was being overdramatic. I rated extreme for anxiety as well, and severe for depression. And this was during the best year I’ve had to date, where everything feels like its finally working out. 

These things, these events and feelings... they’re so strong. They meld into your DNA and completely alter how you perceive yourself and other people. But you’re still YOU despite them. You’re still HERE. That means you’re winning. That means there’s still a chance to find that balance. 

I have a stable, if stressful job. My credit score is finally above 600 again after ruining it going to and running away from Kentucky. My finances are stable. I’m looking at the prospect of a much better job. It’s new but I have the best girl and the potential of a future. 

I still have to fight these feelings and memories. They don’t go away. I still have days where I can’t eat. Where taking a deep breath feels impossible. My friends in my area say they’re drawn to me because of how damn strong and responsible I appear and in my head I hear myself go, God if only they knew the truth. But the disservice that does me, that thinking that does YOU, is unreal. Never discount how strong you are to have made it this far, nearly or even completely alone. That you matter, your pain matters, and you have MEANING. That no matter how you feel about yourself, you are a beautiful disaster that would alter the state of the world were you to be gone. A force of nature. There is steel inside of you guarding your potential and keeping you up.

All of this, and I’m okay. I’m finally okay. Great? Potentially, some days. Those days will start coming more often. I’m regulating my eating, my health, and forcing myself to keep tabs on my habits. Sleep is still a messy work in progress, so is my room (I developed hoarding habits as a coping mechanism). 

But I’m okay. And I want YOU to be okay. I want you to not feel like you have to go through feeling like THAT up there, because no matter what you actually went through and whether it was like mine or not, your pain is pain just like mine. Loneliness just like mine. Loss and fear just like mine. Completely alone. 

If you need me. I am right here. I don’t care how long it takes. It took me fifteen years. I don’t care if you backslide. I don’t care if you’re so lost in it that you can’t see what is in you or around you. I am here for you so you have one rock in the hurricane wearing you out. It does get better. I will talk to you, I will let you vent. I will distract you and cheer you on. 

I’m right here and I love you. Every bruised and scarred inch. Everything I know you can be once the situation allows for it.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Wishful Thinking

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: (Referenced) Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard

Rating: Holy shit tame.

AN: Happy N7 Day, everyone! Starring the scene in ME2 that murdered anyone who romanced Alenko! Audio for 'About Horizon' can be found here. Enjoy!

The dream started the same every time. The only thing that changed was how he reacted to her.

He was screaming at her from across the Collector-strewn battlefield almost before he knew his body could move again. His biotics sang and raced over his skin with barely restrained power.

“Shepard!” His voice cracked but her head still turned. Those eyes...it was her. Back from the dead, scar-less, 'a china-doll shadow' was what Anderson had said. And no slight amount of anger in his words, at that. Cerberus had done more than overstep the bounds when they dragged Commander Shepard from the grave.

All that faded from Kaidan's mind as her eyes met his and widened gratifyingly. “Come here!” He yelled.

Tears started pouring down her cheeks, making Kaidan grit his teeth against the residual paralysis and begin to limp his way across the field. He tripped on some loose debris, cursing as he almost lost his footing. Shepard seemed to come alive at that, bolting for him and leaving her gun behind. “Kaidan!”

He caught her in his arms as she attempted to slide a hand to his shoulder to help him walk. “I know I'm being awful forward, Shepard. Forgive me later.” He choked out. Shepard nodded into his chest, biting her lip and allowing him to hold her. Her whole body shook with suppressed sobs. “Shhh, Shep. I can't even believe you're here. Let me have a few seconds with you before I wake up.” Kaidan whispered soothingly into her hair. “Just a few. I'll let you go soon.”

“Don't you d-d-dare Alenk-ko.” Shepard hiccupped, glaring up at him. Kaidan's heart clenched painfully. He had missed that face so much.

He ran his finger across the bridge of her nose, smooth skin where there had once been a pink scar. She flushed at the familiar motion and he cupped her cheek to make her look at him. “I know. And I don't care.” Kaidan murmured.

This is what I should have done.

Shepard's eyes filled with tears again and she clenched her jaw bravely. Her lower lip trembled when Kaidan bent slightly, searching her eyes with his own. “Shep...I uh...”

You died. And yet I still got you back.

It was Shepard's turn to hush him, her eyes full of understanding. “It's alright Kaidan. I've missed you so much.”

“So damn much.” Kaidan echoed, pressing his lips to hers. He hoped she would close her eyes, so she wouldn't see him crying.

“Kaidan...” She breathed when they parted, the sound of her voice sending his biotics into a frenzy like it used to before…before everything.

Kaidan couldn’t even find the words, couldn’t get them out past the lump of survivor’s guilt in his throat, and the dream Shepard faded away. He was alone in his bunk, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders with his single pillow tucked into his chest in an attempt to mimic the feeling of the Commander’s body against his own.

Jerky flashes of Shepard’s last moments had followed him for the past two years. The way her body had plummeted to the planet far, far below, his frantic screaming reverberating in the escape pod as he watched her fall, watched her burn up and die.

Later, he had taken a grim solace in the fact that she was definitely dead of asphyxiation before she hit the atmosphere. In the moment, though, Kaidan had nearly lost every hard-earned ounce of his control, nearly ripped the pod apart with his biotics.

He vaguely recalled being brought to a Med bay somewhere, his migraine at an intolerable level and the bright lights making him even more nauseous while someone slathered the back of his neck with medigel because he’d burned himself out, of course he had. Damn L2 implants, always failing at the worst times. Chakwas, God bless her, she’d put a towel over his head to block out the light and give him some privacy to sob and dry heave like a good Alliance marine.

Shepard. The Commander had been the axis which his world rotated on. Losing her had thrown Kaidan into a nightmarish new world, one where people didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about ‘honoring her memory’ and ‘it’s what she would have wanted’.

It rang hollow. It always did.

The Council still didn’t seem to understand that the Reapers were coming. Sovereign hadn’t been a Geth dreadnought or whatever crap they were calling it this week. Whole colonies were vanishing and the Council continued to twiddle their appendages over it. Some days Kaidan wanted to take every member of the Council by the shoulders and shake them back and forth while shouting why won’t you do something?! How many more humans need to die before you’ll do something?!

And then the rumors had started circulating. About Shepard, and Cerberus. About Shepard working for Cerberus. Kaidan didn’t believe it for the longest time. Even after Anderson had basically confirmed that the intel was legitimate by refusing to speak any further on it, Kaidan couldn’t wrap his head around it.

The attack on Horizon had assisted in his comprehension. Because it was Shepard, it was Shepard. Paler than he remembered, a little thinner. Dark circles under haunted eyes and missing her scar. Like an idiot (as usual), Kaidan had reacted before he thought. He’d hugged her, and then pushed her away. So different from his dreams, where he held her and kissed her and just let his heart rest easy for a few minutes.

“You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me!” He hadn’t meant to sound so infuriated. He was hurt, of course he was hurt, he had loved her. A part of him still did. A part of him that might be all of him.

“Kaidan, you know me.” She had pleaded with him and he’d looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “You know I’d only do this for the right reason.”

“I know where my loyalties lie, Shepard.”

Didn’t that just sit bitter in his throat. Loyalty and duty and honor, always the good soldier Alenko. He knew where his loyalties laid.

With Shepard.

With the Alliance.

Shepard, his heart begged while his mind shouted Alliance! She was still doing good. Still working to stop the Collectors. Why the hell did he have to act like working with Cerberus was the ultimate betrayal? If he was being honest, the reason why he’d been so upset was because she hadn’t contacted him. Christ, it was selfish but anything.

Kaidan rubbed his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach, resting his head on his arm. The datapad beside him lit up when he pulled it closer, one eye shut as he began typing.

Shepard,

I’m sorry for what I said back on Horizon…

…

The message sat in his outbound box for months, a little empty circle next to it to indicate that it was unread. He tried to forget about it. Sometimes he went a few days without checking. Kaidan was unsure if the address he’d sent it to was even functional anymore, but he had to at least try to apologize.

Not only because he’d loved her once (still loved her), but because he was wrong to accuse her if he didn’t know the whole story. She had brought up a valid point. The Shepard he had known (and loved) would never sign on with a group like Cerberus unless she wholeheartedly believed there was a good reason to. He would just have to trust her judgement on this one.

And then one night, the circle was filled in.

Kaidan stayed up later than he intended to (cycling the inbox over and over), woke up with bare minutes to prepare for his shift the next morning. Stumbling through the day in a bleary-eyed daze, he missed the ping! on his Omni-tool.

So as he bedded down for the evening, the new message from that familiar address came as a definite shock. He sat bolt upright, then hunched over the datapad and hungrily absorbed the words in front of him.

Kaidan,

Didn’t want to risk incriminating you while still on Cerberus’ payroll. Also didn’t have the guts to tell you. But we’re going through the Omega-4 relay in a little under an hour and I don’t know if I’m coming back from this one. This is selfish and stupid of me, I’m sorry. I know that if I don’t come back, this will only make things harder for you as far as moving on goes.

The Omega-4? Kaidan’s stomach lurched. The Illusive Man was firing her and her crew off into deep space, Jesus Christ. A suicide mission.

I love you so much, Kaidan. Your heart, your dedication to the Alliance, the way you were always my voice of reason. I’m so sorry that our time together was cut short. If I still have a chance with you, if I come back, I’d love to take you out for a night on the Citadel. Just you and me, drinks and my goofy dancing.

If I don’t though, if I don’t come back or if my luck and the Illusive Bastard’s patience runs out, I need you to promise me that you’ll find someone else. Kaidan I don’t want you to hurt. I want you to be free and whole, not tethered to some old ghosts of a Commander.

Tears welled up in his eyes and the words in front of him blurred together into an unreadable mess. Kaidan tried to steady himself, tried to get a grip on his feelings. It did him no good to bawl his eyes out in his bunk room.

I want you to be happy and safe.

A sob hitched in his chest, making his throat ache. Kaidan couldn’t help the wounded noise he let out.

I love you, Kaidan.

She hadn’t signed the message. She never had before. That lent some credibility to the missive. Beneath the unfamiliar Cerberus armor was the woman he had loved (still loved). And she was in danger. She hadn’t wanted him to worry but now, in a surprising flash of selfishness, she had damned the consequences and replied to him. The what-ifs ran hot and heavy through his mind for a minute.

All he could do now was wait, he realized grimly. Wait for her to come back from where no one had ever returned. Wait for her to send an all-clear. Wait for her.

Wait for her.

For Shepard, he didn’t care how long it took.

Shepard,

I’ll be counting on you to come home safe. For the both of us. I'm looking forward to some shore leave...

[fierrochase]

my favorite moments from the lightning thief musical: a list

far from comprehensive, because it was all-around amazing :D 

also geez i meant for this to be short?? ok this is the long version and i’ll post an abridged one that’s a bit less wordy in a few

in terms of production value, it reminded me a bit of a starkid musical - there were no fancy special effects, but i liked it that way! it felt homemade almost, like they didn’t try to convince the audience that they weren’t sitting in a theatre watching a show and i appreciate that! brecht would be proud lol (sorry for the lame theatre nerd jokes)

they included blue food!! sally and percy had blue marshmallows at montauk!! on that note, percy and sally’s relationship was absolutely spot-on, it was clear from the start how much he loved her and how much she loved him :’) 

they included the “you drool when you sleep” line boy I nearly cried!! ALSO she said that to him when he was still all dazed from the minotaur attack (a guy with a paper mache head, btw haha) so later when he meets her again when luke introduces her percy saw her and shouted “YOU’RE MY DREAM GIRL! no no wait I mean the girl from my dream!” it made me laugh like a fool and it was sooooo THEM like thank jesus lord, we’ve finally got a GOOD REPRESENTATION OF THESE CHARACTERS!! 

jumping off from that: chris mccarrell as percy was INCREDIBLE. he perfectly encapsulated everything percy should be - his impulsivity, his frustrations with dyslexia/adhd/not doing well in school, his love for his mom, his friendship with grover, his disrespect for authority (i refuse to use the word “sass” in relation to percy but i mean if it was 2013 that’s how i would describe it), his confusion, his bravery, his goofiness - when he picked up his sword for capture the flag he went “COOOOOL” and started making lightsaber noises and i almost teared up a bit i kid you not because I really finally felt like I was seeing Percy up on that stage. also, the boy has some wicked pipes. 

also for reference i’ll try my best to list who all played what part because there were a lot

percy and annabeth were just themselves the whole time, and grover also played mr. d in a few scenes but the rest of the cast played all the different parts

mr. brunner/chiron also played a random aphrodite girl (he wore a wig with long blonde braids skdjhfsjdh), medusa, poseidon, and hades

sally also played silena, the oracle, echidna, and charon 

luke also played smelly gabe and ares

clarisse also played mrs. dodds, katie gardner, a squirrel (to be explained later hah), bianca (also to be explained later), and thalia (also also to be explained later) 

& i’m probably missing a few but those were the major ones! they also played generic students, tourists, etc. 

chiron was really funny, when he revealed himself to be a centaur he sort of just stood up from his wheelchair and was wearing a fake horse tail and he walked everywhere by prancing which was funny

mr. d was ABSOLUTELY HYSTERICAL? as mentioned he was played by the guy who played grover! he was angry and he was loud and he wore this floppy hat and pants pulled up to like his ribcage and he shouted every line and i LOVED IT. a random/unnamed half blood came in and set up a metal chair for him at his table full of paperwork and he kicked it over in rage so she set it up again and he kicked it again later and she ran away and he tried to kick his chair over a third time but it wasn’t there so he went and picked it up just to kick it over again. ALSO HE CALLED PERCY PETER JOHNSON GOD BLESS THE WRITERS!!

also i’m giving them a thumbs up for diversity!! luke and sally were both african american and grover was latino!! it was nice!!

annabeth did call percy out for assuming her dad was the god, like i think that convo was almost word for word from the book AMAZING

also her crush on luke was super obvi, she got all giggly every time he talked to her or put his arm around her shoulder aw

they sort of condensed a few events, which makes sense because most people wouldn’t sit through a 6-hour musical (i would but that’s beside the point!), so annabeth’s capture the flag strategy was to send percy into the bathroom as clarisse bait. ALSO the toilet explosion & the later tidal wave he hits ares with were done by attaching toilet paper rolls to leaf blowers and blowing them all over the stage - like i said, no fancy special effects, but it got the point across pretty well!! 

percy’s claiming happened at the bonfire after they all sang a fun song about how much it sucks to be a kid of a god (during which grover ate his marshmallow roasting stick, like it’s the little things that make this show so great!!) and for that they stood downstage and all pointed vaguely outwards and said “look! the stars are arranging themselves into a trident!” hah

ALSO mr. d’s bit about wanting to turn percy into a dolphin was in there god bless

percy wore the winged shoes the whole time instead of giving them to grover!

^that all was act 1! act 2 was the entirety of the quest which meant that a lot of the events got cut or shortened

the medusa scene was awesome, and pretty true to the books!! also they both sort of ran offstage and then percy ran back onstage with his sword and the head in his hands lol

while grover went into the back of aunty m’s to look for supplies annabeth had this amazing, utterly badass song called “wise girl” about how she’s had to fight all her life to make it, like she talked about her stepmom hating her and running away from home and stuff and it was SOOOOO GOOD like at one point she said “boys who mess up are given a second chance, but i don’t have that luxury” like DAMN GIRL TELL THEM!! also she did call him seaweed brain a few times and i was like oooooh man i’d almost forgotten my vintage percabeth feels

also yes percy did mail medusa’s head to mount olympus and did this very percy-ish little “heh heh heh i’m clever” laugh as he did 

instead of a poodle grover asked a squirrel for directions which was cute!! and yes, annabeth did yell at percy to apologize to the squirrel for offending it :D 

most of the trip west was done as a song/montage sort of thing, from post-medusa to vegas all happened in one song! so echidna and her chimera were there, but it was just her holding a dog carrier and it biting percy’s hand when he reached in and them all screaming and then it moved on!!

OK UM the part that made my day was the lotus hotel, it was like 5 seconds long because annabeth was like “wait!! in the odyssey if you sleep in a lotus bed you wake up years later!” so percy was like “that’s ridiculous! here let me ask this girl how long she’s been here” and the girl was like “my brother and I have been here since thursday!” and percy was like “see? we’re fine” and then she went “in 1939!!” and they sorta screamed and ran out lol and she charlestoned off but anyway the point is she had black braids and a little hat and i turned to my sister and whisper-shouted “THAT’S BIANCA!!!” and she was like “OMG IT IS” i loved it!!!!!!!!!!!! thank god the writers of this ACTUALLY READ THE BOOKS!! 

ares’ first scene was kinda short too, they cut the bit about going to waterland/the tunnel of love ride and just had him give them a ride to the next place, also it was suuuuper obvi foreshadowing because when he gave percy the backpack an ominous chord played lol

my other fav moment was when they were on the train to LA (they cut the zoo truck too) grover told percy the story of getting annabeth/luke/thalia to CHB and they reenacted it as he sang about it (that sounds cheesy, it was the three of them up on the top platform sort of doing it in slow motion while Grover sang) and like ngl i almost teared up a bit when thalia died

no procrustes :(( i know i’m listing thing after thing that they left out but like i understand why they did and i don’t think it suffered too badly!! like someone who hasn’t read the book would probs be a bit confused but in what they did have they were so spot-on that i really didn’t mind!

charon was reimagined as a cool beyonce-esque r&b singer, she was like “hey, y’all want a copy of my mixtape?” lol, also they sang this real fun and upbeat song welcoming to the underworld, like telling them about all the cool dead musicians they have (janis joplin, kurt cobain, and mozart all made cameos - annabeth was fangirling over mozart it was adorable!) and the trio was like “oh this is cool!!” until they realized they were about to die lol and charon started evil laughing it was great!

percy did almost get drawn into tartarus, that was cool bc a trap door opened and all this fog lit with red light started billowing out! also when annabeth was like “that’s tartarus!!” percy went “THE FISH SAUCE??” adorable

hades was great!! very sulky like, “why does everyone always think I’M the bad guy?? maybe it’s the decor” i loved it

also the lightning bolt itself was really nice-looking!! it was like described, a tube with metal caps, but it lit up really brightly as annabeth took it out from the backpack and it looked real cool!! 

instead of the pearls they escaped the underworld with a conch shell that poseidon gave percy in a dream way back after he defeated the minotaur and he did have to leave sally which is sad every time :( 

the final battle against ares was fun, that’s when percy sang his showstopper “son of poseidon” which was truly #lit. if/when they release the cast album that’s the one i’ll be playing on repeat and full blast. and he exploded the toilet paper ocean at ares and it was fun! 

poseidon showed up then to take the bolt back to zeus and chat with percy, he was in his hawaiian shirt and looking real cool! and he got sally back and after she hugged percy real tight she saw poseidon and they had a heated moment of “you’re as beautiful as ever” “you’re as charming as ever” and then percy was like “OKAY THIS IS WEIRD” truly great!!

and they did include the final chat with luke about kronos! i was wondering if they’d cut that because it’s not like they can do a series of musicals (though if they did i’d go see every one) but they had it! plus they needed to tie up the loose end of percy being betrayed by a friend! and he stabbed percy in the lower back but was disarmed by annabeth go girl!! but he didn’t take long to recover hah because he was able to sing the badass closing number about being cool demigods and saving the world!!

anyway there’s much more that i forgot to mention but just know overall that it was amazingly true to the characters and the tone/world/humor/etc. of the books and i was almost giddy for the rest of the day because it was one of the most loving, fun, entertaining, and on-point adaptations of a book i’ve seen in any form. m*vies who?? i only know the musical!!

feel free to send me asks if you want to know more about a particular scene!!

jesus lord this was long!! like i said, short version forthcoming!

[iamwonderfullymade-blog1]

Survivor Story: MS

I’ve never managed to tell my entire story to one soul in an orderly manner that was entirely comprehensive. Usually, it’s bits and pieces that come out at random times. So, here it goes. During my junior year of high school, I met a boy in accounting class. He was a senior and something about him intrigued me. As we became friends, he opened up to me about his depressed state and self-harm issues. I wanted so badly to help him. He told me he would kill himself on February 14. I prayed and prayed for the Lord to use me to help him, to stop him from taking his own life. I set out on a mission to save him. I still remember walking beside him down the hill of our high school. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing scratches all over his forearm. It wasn’t a smooth gesture at all; I see now he wanted me to see them. We began dating late January. He told me I was his hope, that I had changed him forever. He wouldn’t kill himself and he would no longer self-harm. I was so happy that I had changed someone’s life. Little did I know, the more I tried to fix him, the more I would break myself. There were countless nights that I laid awake crying after receiving a picture of his wrist covered in blood. Mysterious texts led me to believe he would off himself that night. My reaction never weakened. I was so afraid that this would be the time he would actually do it. In late April and May things grew so much worse. He lied to me, even if I had hard evidence against claims. One night I was volunteering at a Key Club event. It was a sleep-out to raise awareness for homeless youth. It was held just outside the mall where he worked. He started acting very angry with me for no reason. I saw him on his break and he yelled at me. Something about his co-workers seeing me in the mall with another guy. A few hours passed and I continued to volunteer while he worked. Once he got off, he requested for me to sit in the van he drove to talk. He yelled and spoke of himself in third person. I started to catch on that this was an act and tried to exit the van. He suddenly came back claiming that he didn't remember any of it, and convinced the naive 17 year old me that he had a personality disorder. After that, he told me that he was afraid that one day he’d kill me and told me to find another prom date. That was exactly a week before prom and so many more red flags came up before then. His younger sister would be going to prom with my friend. We all wanted to go together but for some reason he did not want that. He threw a tantrum until his parents let him borrow his dad’s truck just for us to go to prom together. I didn’t see the big deal in going with friends, but I didn’t argue. During dinner before prom, I complained about a stray hair continuing to pop up. He went off saying that I shouldn’t complain so much. He snapped, just like the week before. He quickly came back and apologized. I requested to go home and grab my house keys from my car’s glove box that was parked outside my house but he assured me it would still be there when I got home. All during prom he made jokes about how everyone was going to get laid that night except him. He made various other sexual comments, but I ignored them all thinking that was just how teenage guys act around one another. We left a bit early because it was crowded. He took me to McDonalds and bought me my favorite drink at the time, a French Vanilla Iced coffee. In the drive-thru line, he made a joke about a dark parking lot where he was going to rape me. I wish I could say I fought more than my consistent “no’s”, “please don’t”, “not tonight”, and “it hurts”. I couldn’t move. I felt so helpless. I remembered my keys sitting in my car at home. If only I had them and the pepper spray that was attached to them. He took me home and told me he tried to kill himself that night after he dropped me off. The next morning, I wondered whether or not I should tell someone. Would people believe me? He apologized over and over and told me how much he loved me. I gave in. I gave “consent” twice after, though I felt I had to. I didn’t want to be raped again. He threatened suicide every time I tried to leave him. That summer, I finally broke up with him, told my parents, and pressed charges. After meeting me, the attorney told me I needed to seek professional help. I was diagnosed with PTSD, depression and anxiety. I still struggle daily with PTSD. The littlest things can bring back so much. Whether its holding a cup of iced coffee or seeing a street light with the same amount of brightness I stared at while I couldn’t move. God has blessed me with some amazing people who know and understand why I am the way I am. I love them all so much and they continue to stand beside me no matter what I’m going through. I’m not much of a believer in time healing wounds. Almost two years have passed and I don’t think it hurts any less. Forming relationships will never be the same for me, but that's something I have accepted. M.S.