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On Badhaai Do

I loved it. I loved #BadhaaiDo . I've seen the criticisms, and it went and shit on most of it.

I've seen the criticisms, and it went and shit on most of it.

Firstly, the premise is based off the problems in lavender marriages.

Second, it does not play our trauma for laughter. @bhumipednekar and @rajkummar_rao actually do a brilliant job of getting it across. I remember this one scene were Rajkumar's characters is crying and you can see snot on his mustache. He hugs someone, and we see it on the other person. And that's amazing so-in-the-role acting right there.

Third, I do not necessarily want queer people in queer roles. In Indian cinema, this is a challenge because many queer people fear being typecasted into these roles only.

I want queer screenwriters and directors because actors are not the ones makinh the decisions. Here, a queer person was consulted for the script and it shows. No straight person could've portrayed us with this authenticity (link in the last story)

Fourth, the lack of research and the straight pride flag- research to me does not mean being perfectly politically correct. Idgaf if actors praising the pope for this one comment. I don't care if they did show the straight pride flag.

The difference is that it doesn't lead to any real harm to queer lives. It's a small, barely visible thing and those who know about it know it's problematic. But no one from the theater will Google what the small thing at the corner was.

We also need to understand that actors are not on a leash by studios. I don't know enough about the actors to love them but i know they're not hugely problematic.

We can't cancel the movie because they said something off, we can't police everything the actors do.

I do wish that joke on "what's your gender" "what do you think" wasn't made and there's no defense to it. Apart from that, my qualm is that the romance did fall flat sometimes.

But I loved this movie because it showed me and it was so brilliantly done and beautiful with morally gray characters who we can see growing- the quality content i did not expect while going in for some preachy clichè

So, I implore you. Do not write off this movie in your mind, don't cancel it. It's something that will have a direct impact on the community and is advocating for real change. There's one indefensible scene, which deserves all the criticism it gets.

But the beautiful way in which this movie is done, i can't imagine those behind it not listening.

It's worth giving a chance

I understand the hesitancy in accepting this- it is marketed a certain way, like a dumb surface level comedy. That'll bring people to theater though bec capitalism is shit, can't fault them for this.

The trailer and promotional content does not do justice to this amazing work of art.

• LESBIANS BEING BADASS SHITS BUT ALSO A COMPLETE DISASTER AHHH THE AUTHINTICITY

• The POSTERS. It's so indian and cheeky and gayyyy <3

• making fun of discrimination <3

• well developed charachters heh3

• A PRIDE SONG !!!

• The cheeky way they played with us at the very end wtf 😭 i was scared OKAY

• just- realism. Not showing queer people as woke asf (bec thats just how it is in India)

• Queer people having relationships that don't work out. I've seen the 'just know youre the one' thing so often, this was refreshing.

• I'm a sucker for angst with comfort y'all. And Bhumi's ex's story, her talking about it 😭 Rijhima should've held her throughout and its a scam she didn't

• SEVEN HUSBANDS OF EVLYN HUGO PARALLELS ARGHHH the cafe scene? The very end, calling the lawyer dude to sit? The parent's dynamic?

• the realistic thing of some people will not accept you, and for some it'll take a lot of time.

Anyway this is all i can remember for now but yaar pls give this a chance ok

• Queer people having relationships that don't work out. I've seen the 'just know youre the one' thing so often, this was refreshing.

• I'm a sucker for angst with comfort y'all. And Bhumi's ex's story, her talking about it 😭 Rijhima should've held her throughout and its a scam she didn't

• SEVEN HUSBANDS OF EVLYN HUGO PARALLELS ARGHHH the cafe scene? The very end, calling the lawyer dude to sit? The parent's dynamic?

• the realistic thing of some people will not accept you, and for some it'll take a lot of time, but you give it because it's someone close and you can't imagine loosing them

• Also bandi tot music video🥰

Anyway this is all i can remember for now but yaar pls give this a chance ok

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Romanticizing Karamel. One More Time for Those in the Back

Seriously. It’s Not Rocket Science.

I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but–

Oh, who am I kidding? I live to burst bubbles! Like, do you remember grabbing the bubble wands and maybe some of those cool bubble blowing pipes and begging your mom or dad to blow some bubbles so you could run around the yard with your friends, trying to beat everyone else to pop the biggest bubbles, laughing hysterically when they burst and everyone close enough would get splattered with the slimy residue, and…  

*ahem*

But I digress.

About the Psychic Whammy. AGAIN.

For those who STILL haven’t figured it out, when Kara told Mon-El that deep down she knew their relationship hadn’t been perfect, here’s what Kara was NOT saying. She was not saying M’rynn’s psychic whammy made her suddenly realize their love wasn’t actually real or sweet or healthy. It made her realize it was not perfect. And she needed to remember that so she could deal with the pain and, yes, anger of losing him.

How do I know this? Well, mostly… common sense. I mean, I watched season 2. Karamel was definitely not a perfect relationship. Kara and Mon-El had their share of problems to work through just like, you know, every other relationship ever. And they did work through them.

But even more importantly, we already knew that Kara had been romanticizing their relationship when he was gone.

“How?” you might ask. “How would we know that?”

Well I’m glad you asked!

Because the opening scene in the Supergirl S3 premiere is literally the visual embodiment of Kara “romanticizing” her relationship with Mon-El.

Because this? Right here? This is the epitome of a romanticized relationship, y’all.

Kara was so busy missing Mon-El, she literally DREAMED about their relationship. The entire 7 months he was gone. In her dreams (and daydreams) she created this idyllic, pure setting where she and Mon-El were together, and in love, and everything– everything!– was perfect.

Even her mother was there.

So, for those paying attention, we already knew that when he was gone Kara romanticized their relationship. And we knew she was having a hard time getting past that dream/daydream when Mon-El came back with a wife, even though she thought she had dealt with all of her feelings about them. 

And it was killing her.

Letting Go

So yeah, Kara felt relieved after the psychic wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. A big weight off her shoulders. She told Mon-El she was grateful it happened, but she was so sorry she hurt him. Because that is the kind of woman she is. She never wanted to cause Mon-El pain. 

And Mon-El?

He just stood there and took Kara’s stream of abuse and accepted it and told her he understood because that is the kind of man he is. A good man. He knew she needed to let it all go, even if it wasn’t fair to him, even if it broke his heart.

And he accepted her apology, offering his own in return.

So sorry not sorry about bursting your bubble. But the psychic whammy scene was never about Kara “dragging” Mon-El. And it certainly wasn’t about Kara finally calling him out for things he did in the past, things that happened before they were together, when he was brand new to Earth, things she’d long since forgiven.

Because what we got was Kara finally letting go of the perfect dream she had of “them.” So she could move on.

And since they are the best of friends and partners in every other scene they share throughout the rest of season 3, I think it’s pretty safe to say Kara had nothing but love, admiration, and respect for Mon-El.

Random Related Thoughts about the Psychic Whammy

The more I think about it, the more I realize that from a writer’s standpoint, the showrunners did do a pretty damn good job of making a loud and abusive fandom think they actually got a canon scene with Kara finally telling off Mon-El for being an abusive jackass and saying she never loved him, when in actuality, they didn’t. Not even a little bit. What we got was Kara unleashing every bad thought she’d ever had about Mon-El. And it wasn’t news to anyone.

Because A) Mon-El is fully aware he used to be a lying jackass, and she never had a problem saying that to his face (or anyone else’s).

And 2) at the end of the day, Kara’s brain was altered. 

There is nothing Kara said that prevented her from falling in love with Mon-El in the first place, or that prevented her from still loving him. Just like there was nothing she said to Alex while poisoned with Red Kryptonite that ever prevented her from loving her sister unconditionally. And she said some VERY hurtful stuff. 

She made Alex cry. 

Y’all? Kara broke Alex’s arm and was ready to KILL her, which forced J’onn to out himself as the Martian Manhunter so he could stop her.

She also threw Cat Grant off a building, so…

So yeah. Brain altering psychic whammies are not truth serum. Both times the worst parts of Kara– the angriest, the meanest, the most resentful, the ones we all have deep, deep down– rose to the surface. And she couldn’t stop them from coming out.

And I can’t stress this part enough: For those of you who laugh and praise Kara– SUPERGIRL– for physically and verbally abusing a man she actually loves and would never purposefully hurt? Well, that tells so much more about the kind of person you are than it does the kind of man you are always claiming Mon-El is.

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sara knows the luxury of having a rich girlfriend (cause there is no way ava wasn’t/isn’t rich) and now she’s lost her mind.

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WLW MEME: [6/10] ships – sara & ava (legends of tomorrow)

And Ava, it’s because of you that I get to know what true love feels like.

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s4 -> s7

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random avalance gifs [3|∞]

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I need to talk about this episode, like Ava trying so hard to get Gwyn to accept himself, Spooner coming out as Ace, Ava mentioning “him or her or any other pronouns they may prefer”, Maisie Richardson- Sellers is really out here doing God’s work

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The Legends: Don’t worry, we have a plan!

The Plan:

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Stalemate

Ship: Jordelia

Prompt list: x

Warnings: none

Notes: I know a fat nothing about chess so sorry lol

One last game. A simple game of chess that determined James’ fate. This was his judgement day, a day where he would either be sent to an eternal state of bliss or the fiery pits of hell. One result he wanted, another he certainly deserved.

They sat in front of each other, the chess board the only thing separating them. James tried not to think about the way they’d arranged themselves, James with black pieces and Cordelia with white. James was darkness, and Cordelia was always, always the light. He hated that he hadn’t been able to see it sooner.

“I would like to alter the rules for this game,” said Cordelia, her voice firm and unwavering. “For every piece I take, you’ll answer one question. For each piece you take, I’ll answer one of yours.”

James did, in fact, have many questions. He nodded in agreement as Cordelia’s fingers lifted her knight, signaling the beginning of the game.

His hands shook as he moved his first piece. Cordelia was far better at chess than he was, and he knew she wouldn’t let him win.

When it really came down to it, this wasn’t a game. This was life or death.

She took the first piece, a pawn. She didn’t gloat; she’d only stared at him with the same determination she’d had back when she defended his honor and sacrificed her own.

“First question of the game,” James said with a breathy laugh that she did not return.

“Do you intend to marry Grace once we divorce?”

“No,” James said, picking up his Queen and moving it forward.

The game continued quietly until he managed to take one of her knights. “Matthew told me that he has feelings for you. Do you return them?”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes not moving from the board. “You’ve just exchanged pieces. Your knight for mine. Why?”

“Is that your question?”

“I’ve not taken the piece yet.”

“Then take it, and I’ll answer.”

She picked up the knight, replacing it with her pawn and holding it up for James to see.

He smiled sadly, looking down at the board in order to avoid her intense gaze. He pushed a pawn forward. “I have many things that I must explain to you, and I’ve also many questions that I’d like to ask you. So I figured that exchanging pieces would let us both get one more answer.”

“Very well,” Cordelia said, moving her next piece forward.

The game continued in an agonizing silence that shook James to his very core. He was no stranger to quiet—he even preferred it over the chaotic cacophony noise sometimes made—but this was his hell. When he died, he was sure that this was what would await him past the underworld’s fiery gates. Her anger was his punishment, and her silence might as well have killed him by now.

“You’ve gotten better since we last played,” he said in an effort to break the silence.

She didn’t look up from the board. “Or you’ve gotten worse.”

He concentrated on the board once again, and realized with a start that he could take her Queen. He plucked the piece from the board, showing it to Cordelia with a forced smile. “No,” he said. “That can’t be it.”

“Are you going to ask a question or not?”

“If you do not hold feelings for Matthew, why did you go to Paris with him?”

“I had to get away,” Cordelia said, her fingers already choosing a piece to push forward.

It only took a few more turns before Cordelia took one of his rooks. “You said that you have no intention of marrying Grace once we divorce. Why not?”

Because I don’t want to divorce you, he wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Because I don’t love her. She used me, put a spell on the damned bracelet she gave me. She—“

“What?”

“I don’t love her, Cordelia.” She could never compare to you. “I never did.” It has always been you. I wish I had seen it sooner.

She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. James pretended not to notice the small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Hope was a feeling James wasn’t used to. But now, it was witchlight illuminating his heart. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be extinguished.

He gave her a smile before turning his attention back to the board. He could end this game in a couple moves if he wanted to. Instead, he moved a pawn forward to a spot where Cordelia could easily take it.

She pulled the pawn from the board, setting it aside. “What do you mean she enchanted your bracelet?”

This was the question he had been dreading. As he told the story, explaining how Grace had kept him in shackles for the majority of his adolescence, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of him if she hadn’t.

James had heard his father talk about how his belief that he was cursed held him back in his youth. He couldn’t help but entertain the possibility of that being what happened to him. Where would he be now if he had been allowed to flourish, if he hadn’t been stuck in a cage for years on end?

The game continued on for some time, each taking pieces from each other one by one. Eventually, there were only a few pieces left on the board, and it was clear that neither of them was going to win.

“It’s a stalemate,” said Cordelia, as if she had read James’ mind. “Neither of us can win.”

“Then it’s only fair we both get to ask a question.”

“You go first.”

Against his will, James’ leg began to bounce underneath the table. “Would you give me a chance? I can’t promise that everything will work out between us, but I can sure as hell try. Daisy, do you want to do this for real?”

Cordelia’s lips curled up into the brightest smile he had ever seen. “Yeah,” she whispered, reaching over the table for his hand.

He wasn’t able to contain his grin. “What’s your question?”

“Will you marry me?”

“I already did, love.”

Cordelia huffed a laugh. “The marriage is hardly a marriage until we have the second runes.”

Taglist: @ohcoolnice @writeordie-4 @life-through-the-eyes-of @my-archerboy @livvyheronstairs @livingformyself @the-enchanted-dreamer @brekkcrs @blackthcrn @sapphic-in @azrielsblade @kazually-cruel @theqtrains @wwraiths @thomaslightwood

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Thomastair hurt/comfort song fic

Word Count: 929

Tw: mentions of Elias Carstairs, depression

(I didn’t really edit it this sooooo yeah ✨mistakes✨ are a given)

Version of Me

Can you love, can you love// Can you love the version of me// I don’t let, I don’t let// I don’t let anybody else see?// When I choke, when I choke// When I choke, would you try and help me breathe?// Can you love, can you love// Can you love the version of me

      They’ve been dating for almost a year now, and he can see that Thomas was trying to figure out what was wrong. Trying to find ways to get him to open his heart more. Alastair knew he was concealing certain parts of himself. Hiding it away, so Thomas doesn’t see any of his weaknesses. He was afraid of Thomas leaving him if he saw him in a ruined state. He rationally knew Thomas wouldn’t do that, but the voice in the back of his mind told him something else. That he shouldn’t let Thomas see the side of him that no one, but himself sees. 

      He was sitting in their bedroom, on the floor, when Thomas came in. He sat down next to Alastair and looked at him. Alastair looked away, but was pulled back by a gentle hand on his cheek. 

     “Hey,” Thomas said, softly. His eyes were filled with undeniable love. Just from that simple word, Alastair felt the tears in his eyes fall. 

Keep reading

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Spooner and Behrad had more conversation in that last episode than Astra and Behrad have had in the whole show like cmon they're not meant for each other. Give us what we want! Astra and spooner are so much better and its infuriating to see Astra get pushed with someone she is so incompatible with. Like just let her be single then if that's the only other option. Smh

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NO! Ride or Die for EsperAstra! No offense Behrad. I love you, but Astra is already spoken for.

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Today's episode broke my heart😊

Like. All they had to do was pair Astra and Spooner - which so many want. And if they HAD to have Gideon have a relationship seconds after manifesting then put her with someone who isn’t A. Repulsive B. A creeper who has tried it on with most of the crew C. Someone who isn’t the comic relief - Behrad!

Out of those 5 characters doesn’t it make more sense (and is less vomit inducing) to make:

Esperastra

Gideon/Behrad (if we have to have another hetero relationship)

Meanwhile Gary can try it on with … who hasn’t he tried yet? Drawing a blank on that. Gwyn? Taken. Gary can have his hand. That’s the best I can do for him.

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Thomas: Do you want to know your gay name?

Alastair: My... my gay name?

Thomas: Yeah, it's your first name-

Alastair: Haha. Very funny Thomas-

Thomas: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.

Alastair: Oh- oh my god.

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Same energy

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Here's my theater going wild over Andrew!Peter saving MJ 😭

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gave away my trust for pennies

this fic is dedicated to the lovely @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas. happy birthday bestie!

this fic is a continuation of the latest snippet. as a warning, this got a bit darker than I intended. I see this fic as an escalation of how I've written Charles' behavior in the past, and he is undoubtedly Bad in this fic. A lot of it is told from Alastair's perspective as the one being abused. Please be safe! It does have a positive/hopeful ending.

content warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, gaslighting, physical abuse, coerced sex

the fic title is from the song tears of gold by faouzia!

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Alastair was a bit surprised when it was not Charles who opened the door. In Paris, he was always very careful that he was the one to greet him.

Christopher grinned at him. “Oh, hullo, Alastair, you must be here to see Charles. I think he’s upstairs in his study.” In the few days that Alastair had frequented the Fairchild home last summer, Christopher had been a bit too distracted, or dying, to be around much, but over the past week, they’d become a bit more acquainted. At first, Alastair was worried about Christopher knowing, about him figuring out what he and Charles were, but Charles insisted he was too oblivious to notice. Alastair was doubtful that was the case, but he suspected that Kit just did not care. He seemed far more interested in Alastair’s love of history and his affinity for mathematics than whatever he and Charles were doing behind closed doors.

Alastair nodded and hung his coat beside the door. “Thank you, Christopher. How have you been?”

“I’m quite well, actually. I’m making great progress on that fire-message technology I was telling you about. Your advice was very helpful. In fact, it would be incredible if you had a few minutes and could come down to the lab and help me and Tom.”

Alastair felt the wind knock out of him at the mention of Thomas’ name. Of course he was here. It made sense; he was Christopher’s cousin. He knew from last summer that he typically spent quite a bit of time with him in the lab. And yet the idea of him here, in this house, just downstairs, was disorienting.

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to follow Christopher downstairs and avoid Thomas’ gaze and forget that there was anyone who actually lived in this house. He doubted that Charles would like that much, though. “Sorry, but I’m already running late. Perhaps next time.”

Christopher smiled politely and returned to the lab as Alastair made his way to Charles’ study. He knocked on the door gently before letting himself in.

Charles looked up in surprise. “Alastair! What are you doing here?”

Alastair ignored the pit of disappointment that fell through him. “I told you I was coming over today.”

He smiled warmly, in the way that always seemed to make Alastair’s worries melt away. “Of course. I- I must have lost track of the time.”

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, it’s just… Well, I’ve been trying to do more research on everything that happened… I just can’t get rid of this idea that it isn’t really over.”

In the week since Charles had nearly died, and he’d been plagued by nightmares ever since. He insisted that he was fine and rejected Alastair’s offers to stay with him as he slept, but he seemed to spend every waking moment going through the details of each case. Alastair understood, he was the same way, he needed knowledge to feel in control of the situation. For some reason, his father’s murder was the exception to the rule, but if it was to help Charles, he would do anything. “Perhaps I could help?” he asked.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not; I’m offering. I’ve done some research of my own, you know, of similar patterns of crime. Even before you were hurt and before my- before Elias died, I had been researching Shadowworld and mundane crimes, in hopes that I could find something that would help.”

Charles laughed dismissively. “And how exactly would that help?”

Alastair gritted his teeth. “I don’t know, Charles. Perhaps it would make more sense if I explained.”

He scoffed. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Act so passive aggressive. I was only asking a question! Go ahead, explain.”

“No, you were right, it’s silly, forget I said anything.”

“I never said that, Alastair. Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t understand why you came here just to pick a fight with me. You know how difficult it’s been for me since I was attacked.”

Alastair wanted to scream. He wanted to demand to know why he seemed to be hurting so badly but scoffed at any attempt he made to help. He wanted to go through the stack of papers in front of Charles and pull out the sheet that described Alastair’s father’s dead body and tell him that he wasn’t the only one losing sleep over what happened. He wanted to demand to know why Charles changed the subject every time he tried to talk about Elias, even before he died. Especially before he died. He wanted to laugh and cry and ask him how it was so easy for Charles to make him feel this bad.

Alastair didn’t scream. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t cry. He simply sat down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be here if you would like any help or want to take a break.” It was easier this way.

He took out the book he was reading and they continued in silence for a long while.

“Would you like something to eat?” Charles asked after a couple of hours had passed. “We could get something from the kitchen.”

Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t eaten in a while. He often forgot to eat when he was busy or upset or got lost in a good book, which were the three moods he typically cycled through, much to Risa’s dismay. “That sounds nice.”

When they arrived in the kitchen, it seemed as though Thomas and Christopher had the same idea.

“Oh!” Christopher exclaimed. “I was just about to come and tell you there’s food ready.”

Charles didn’t say anything in response, only picked up two plates and began serving them food.

“How are the fire-messages coming?” Alastair asked, attempting to make polite conversation.

“They still seem to be spontaneously combusting on occasion, but we’re working on it.”

“It’s nice that you and Charles are friends again,” Thomas commented with the most innocent face he could muster. “I know how close you were in Paris.”

Charles dropped the fork he was holding and it hit the table with a clatter. He turned sharply and left the room.

Alastair felt panic wash over him. “Yeah,” he said softly, quickly finishing gathering their dinner and returning upstairs, none of them saying a word more until he was gone.

He brought the food to the study, but Charles wasn’t there. He put the plates down and left to find him. He spotted him from the corridor and froze. He was so angry. He charged towards him, but Alastair couldn’t move. Charles grabbed his arm tight enough to make him flinch and pulled him back towards the study.

“Let go of me!” Alastair said, but Charles only held him tighter.

When they got back to the study, Charles slammed the door so hard it made Alastair jump, and before he could get his balance back, Charles shoved him into the wall. He reached out to steady himself, accidentally knocking over a small vase on a nearby shelf. He flinched at the sound. Had Christopher and Thomas heard? This wasn’t a townhouse, though. This was a large manor, though smaller than Cirenworth, but he could remember many nights his father threw liquor bottles at the wall behind him while Cordelia slept peacefully a wing away.

“What in Raziel’s name was that about, Alastair? Did you tell him?”

“What? Of course not! I would never!”

“If you didn’t, then how does he know?”

“He doesn’t know anything! He said we were friends, Charles! Everyone knows that we were friends in Paris!”

“That’s not what he meant and you know it.”

“Charles, please, I didn’t say anything to him, I promise,” Alastair begged. He tried to conceal how frightened he was.

“It must have been your sister, then. Raziel, I told you you couldn’t trust her! This is all your fault!” He turned away, running his fingers through his hair in distress.

“I’m sorry,” Alastair said before he could stop himself. He needed to calm him down. “If he does know, he won’t tell anyone. None of them will. It’ll be okay, no one will find out. We’ll just be a bit more careful. It’ll be alright.”

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Charles refused to make eye contact.

“No- No, of course it’s not. I don’t want anything you don’t want. I was idealistic, hopeful for the future, but - Charles, I’m a Persian man from a disgraced family, I’m enough of an outcast already, you know this. I don’t want our affair to be discovered any more than you do.” I just want you to look at me.

“Promise me. Promise me, Alastair, you won’t talk to Thomas anymore. He already knows too much. Promise me you won’t tell your sister we’re seeing each other again,” he demanded.

Alastair hated it when Charles told him what to do, and was historically not very committed to keeping these promises, but perhaps this was one he felt he could answer honestly. “I promise. I promise, Charles, I won’t.”

After a long period of silence, Charles finally spoke, “Alright. You’re right.” He looked at the broken vase on the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, you just showed up so unexpectedly, and then Thomas- and you know how stressed I’ve been recently. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you. It will never happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Alastair assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I know, it’s alright. Maybe you should try to get some rest, darling. I’ll clean this up.”

Charles nodded and left for his bedroom.

Alastair picked up the larger pieces of the vase and swept the rest up in a few papers, like muscle memory from his childhood. He couldn’t shake the guilt that came to him so easily these days, sticking like layers of paint coloring his body and soul. He couldn’t stop replaying the image of Charles leaving, still not looking at him, clearly so upset.

With the vase picked up, he scanned the room. Their food sat cold and uneaten. He considered bringing the plates down for someone to clean them, but he couldn’t bear the possibility of running into Christopher or Thomas again. It would be someone else’s problem tomorrow. He turned off the lights and blew out the couple of candles Charles still liked to keep and headed towards the bedroom.

When he got there, Charles was waiting for him. He pulled Alastair close and kissed him deeply. They continued for several minutes until Charles reached to undo Alastair’s belt.

Alastair caught Charles’ hand in his. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said softly.

Charles frowned. “Please, please, Alastair, I want you. I need this.”

Charles’ hand was a paintbrush, covering him in another layer of guilt, and he knew that Charles would get his way. “I don’t-”

“Please, I need a distraction. You need to make it up to me, for earlier.”

Alastair swallowed and resigned. “Alright.”

***

When Alastair woke in Charles’ bed, it was still night. Charles was shaking him. “Alastair, you need to go. Before anyone sees you.”

Charles’ bed was so warm, and the night was so cold. “I could stay a little longer.”

“No, you need to go before anyone notices. Please don’t test me tonight.” Charles’ voice was so cold, so harsh, it chilled Alastair’s blood while making his heart race.

“Okay, okay,” he told him while hurrying to redress himself. He hesitated as he left. “Sweet dreams, ātashé del-am.” Fire of my heart. Charles didn’t respond.

Alastair raced into the night, nearly forgetting his glamour rune, trying to steady his heart and mind. He stopped at a small park near the Fairchild home and sat down on a bench, trying to push the prior night out of his mind.

***

By the time Thomas finally left the lab, it was late into the night. He hadn’t intended to stay so long, but they’d lost track of time. Christopher was staying in the guest room, but since everything that happened, Thomas’ parents worried if he wasn’t back home by morning.

He wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, though. He went the long way around.

The park was empty, as it usually was at this hour, but one person sat on a bench, looking down into his shaking hands. Even in the dark, he thought he recognized that silhouette. “Alastair?”

He put his hands down to stop them from shaking. “Leave me alone.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been crying.

“You’re upset. Did something happen?” He sat down beside him.

“Yes, Thomas. I spent a single night with someone and he can’t seem to leave it in the bloody past!”

“I- Do you mean what I said earlier? I didn’t mean anything-”

“Bullshit, Thomas. Your silly little letter before the Townsend’s musicale didn’t mean anything, either, did it? You wanted me to feel guilty.”

Thomas bit his lip. Of course, Alastair has always seen through him. Always. “Fine. Fine, yes, you’re right, of course you’re right, I’m sorry. I wanted you to feel guilty because you broke my heart, you walked away from me and directly towards another man, and it still hurts. I still miss you as much as I did that very first night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, all the while, you’re with him, and I hate it. How did you move on so easily? Did I mean so little?” Thomas could feel his heart breaking, just as it did, over and over.

“No- I- I don’t know. I don’t-” He put his head in his hands, repeating one phrase over and over, like a mantra. Nemidanam. I don’t know.

“Alastair,” he said, and he reached for Alastair’s arm, trying to get him to look up at him, but when he touched him, he tensed, as if in pain. It was brief, but it was there. “Are you hurt?”

He felt so stupid for feeling so jealous, for not seeing what was right in front of him.

***

Alastair tried to shake off the pain when Thomas touched him, but he must have not been fast enough. He hadn’t even realized that Charles had grabbed him that hard.

“Are you hurt?”

He felt panic rising in his chest. “What? No, why would you think that?”

“You just flinched.”

“Maybe because you grabbed me!”

“I didn’t- Just let me see, please.” He pulled his witchlight out.

He should just tell Thomas to piss off and quit harassing him, he knew, but instead he reached for his sleeve. He doubted there would be much of anything there, anyways. His skin rarely bruised. When he pulled his sleeve back though, he could see in the witchlight what he couldn’t while getting dressed in Charles’ dark bedroom: the dark discoloration wrapping around his lower arm. He pulled his sleeve back down just as quickly, not daring to look at Thomas.

“Alastair, did he- did he do that?” His voice was a pained whisper.

Alastair spoke slowly. “I didn’t… He didn’t mean… It was… He’s never… He’d never… I shouldn't've… He’s just… He said… This was…” I didn’t realize that was there. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was an accident. He’s never hurt me before. He’d never hurt me intentionally. I shouldn’t have instigated him. He’s just going through a hard time. He said it wouldn’t happen again. This was my fault. All of the words got caught in his throat. And then he started to laugh.

He laughed, and he said, finally, “My whole life, I’ve been terrified of becoming my father. I thought it was inevitable, and so I never thought too hard about all of the times Risa said, ‘Esfandiyar, to khili shabieh mahdarat hasti.’” You’re too much like your mother. As his mother had once defended Elias, he now defended Charles. He always thought that turning into his father was his worst nightmare, but now he could feel all the resentment he’d held for his mother, for her refusing to leave, even when he hurt them. Perhaps there was more than one nightmare, after all.

“You don’t have to be,” Thomas said softly. “You can change the story; you can change the ending.” He’d forgotten that he spoke Persian. “Please, tell me what I can do to help.”

He didn’t want help. He didn’t want to think about any of this. He wanted to be someone else, anyone else, anywhere else. He looked up at Thomas and pulled him into a kiss.

Thomas pulled away immediately. Of course he did. Why would he want him now? He didn’t know why he’d done that. The guilt was a wave now, crashing over him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I- We can’t do this right now, Alastair. You were right; it’s not the right time.”

“I believe I told you that we would never work, actually.”

“Maybe. I don’t- I don’t know. Maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll be better as friends than lovers. All I know is that this is not the time for us to find out.”

“Friends?”

“It seems like you’re missing a few.”

“And how would your other friends feel about that?”

“My other friends can mind their own bloody business. They don’t control me or my life or who I choose to spend my time with. I care about you, Alastair, I really do,” his voice broke as he spoke. “I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, which I know is hypocritical because I have, too - me and my friends. And don’t tell me it was deserved, because we both know that it went beyond just what happened when we were schoolboys.”

Alastair’s voice shook. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Thomas.”

“Tell me you’ll be my friend.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

Thomas pulled out his stele. “May I?”

Alastair pulled his sleeve back up, past the bruise. Thomas’ touch was gentle as he traced the healing rune. It was a welcome difference from the night before. They both watched as the majority of the mark disappeared.

He pulled his sleeve back down as Thomas asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I should probably go home,” he said lightly. “After, I don’t know… In the past, Charles hasn’t taken too happily to me leaving him.” He thought for a moment. “It’s ironic, you know, what you said. About me walking away from you and towards him. Because when I left him, I walked directly to you.” His voice barely more than a whisper.

“The engagement party,” Thomas realized. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, too. I wish there was a world where we could have just been together, where I wasn’t… who I am, where it wouldn’t have been so messy.”

Thomas’ fingers brushed up against his cheek as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t mind, Alastair. I never anticipated this being easy. It’s not something you ever need to apologize for. Will you let me walk you home?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. You spent more than enough time making sure that I got home safe.”

Alastair sighed but agreed.

They walked in silence for the most part, and when they did speak, Charles was never mentioned. It almost felt normal. When they arrived at his door, Thomas took his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Do you do that to all of your friends?” he teased. Even in the dark, he could see the blush rise to Thomas’ cheeks. “Good night, Thomas,” he said, letting himself in.

“Sweet dreams, Alastair.”

Thanks so much for reading! I know that got a little dark, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought!

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