#I need a separate post for fuller thoughts on this

[glittter-skeleton]

“I want you to die abandoned by everything and everyone that you loved”

Yeah, good luck getting Tommy to abandon literally anyone, big Q especially

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight Chapter 14

A/n: I hope you all enjoy this one!!!!!!! I feel like I could end it in one chapter or in 10 :')

Warnings: canon typical mentions/depictions of injuries, mentions of a toxic relationship.

Word count: 2.6k

Other chapters

Steady steps fill the air as Eris walks down the main hall of the House of Wind. He had not expected to be welcomed here in light of recent events. 

“How is she?” He asks the shadowsinger posted outside a door, presumably hers.

“Stable” 

“Is she awake?” The spymaster shakes his head “Sometimes, never for long”. Eris purses his lips at that, those last few moments in the clearing flashing in his mind “can I see her?” Azriel nods once and opens the door behind him. Eris is certain that he will remain on the other side of the door and that his shadows will be watching closely. 

His breath catches in his throat when he sees her. In truth, he did not know what to expect. It had been days since that night and she had been given Feyre’s blood and a mix of power granted by two high lords, one high lady and one cauldron made fae. It was not something that had been documented before. He was relieved when she had opened her eyes in the clearing, but the white light that shot out of them had surprised him. She had been drained of her blood, kept in a dungeon for weeks, mauled by an ancient monster and struck by lightning. If he had to guess, she had done something to offend the Mother or another god. How does one come back from that? 

The dark circles under her eyes had softened. He noticed the new points of her ears poking out of her hair that laid strewn across soft looking pillows. The lightning had left her with scars that peaked out of her shirt and went to the base of her neck. The bolt forever reflected on her once porcelain skin. He couldn’t see her leg but was relieved to see two outlines beneath the sheets. From what he had seen, it would not have been surprising that a healer would have recommended amputation. Her cheeks looked fuller, that was a good sign. 

He stood there for a while, as she slept. There was so much guilt eating away at him for all of the things he had done during his father’s reign. Unspeakable and unforgivable things. He had tried to do some good, when he could guarantee that his father’s wrath would not be turned to him. He was brought out of his thoughts when she stirred. 

“You can’t be serious” she grumbles and Eris tenses “we are going to have to discuss boundaries”. Her eyes are open and she seems… fine. No pain, no grogginess, no anger. “What?” She yawns “everytime I open my eyes you're there, you were always at the Manor, in the dungeons and now my room? I think we need to talk about getting friends your own age”. Eris stays looking at her and she rolls her eyes “not you too”. He repeats himself “what?”. “I need normal conversation, everyone has been acting like I’m going to break if they look at me wrong and I hate it” he relaxes his stance but remains uncertain “you got demolished by three separate entities, you should be dead, forgive me if I am not in the mood to banter”. She goes to sit up but winces and lays back down “no”. Eris crosses his arms at his chest “no, what?” She throws a pillow at him “I won't forgive you not wanting to banter” he catches the pillow “I did not realize you were enthralled by my humor” he walks closer to her bed and places the pillow where it had been “are you aware of the watchdog at the door?” She scowls “don’t call him that. But yes” and yells “it’s a waste of your time Azriel, I’m fine!” 

A hint of a smile escapes Eris “you are the worst patient I’ve ever seen”. Now, she looks seriously pissed off “you try being bedridden for a week and see how you like it”. “You’ve been bed ridden?” She nods and grimaces “after everything went down the magic healed all my wounds but my leg was broken in so many different places and it healed all wrong. Madja has had to re-break and properly set the bones. They have not let me leave the bed”. A shiver runs down Eris’ back and just how brutal the attack had been. Any lighthearted energy having been sucked out of the room. “I wanted to apologize” she looks away from him and starts to pick at a loose string in the bedsheets and interrupts him “don’t”. He goes on “I have to, it was my father who got you into this whole mess and I could have done so much more to prevent it or to get you out sooner. I should have killed him years ago but I never had the courage and-” she held up her hand “Eris, please don’t”. He took a step closer “and I’m sorry you got hurt and tortured and I just stood by” she would not look at him but asked “did you notice that the bargain marks vanished?” He nodded. She took a breath and said “you kept your promise. I’m out. You never owed me any kindness. We were never even friends” that stung. “You deserved better” she made knots to the string she was fidgeting with “I hate when people talk like that, you can’t change what happened or what you did or didn’t do”. He took one more step “I think it's fair to lament what happened” she looked up and met his gaze “I think it's useless”. He could have flinched at the venom in her voice, but stood still when clouds and bolts of silver amassed in her eyes. She closed her eyes, breathed deep and said “let’s talk about something else” when she opened her eyes again, the storm was gone. Before he could think of what to say the door opened and Madja walked in, followed by Azriel. 

“Good morning y/n, how are you feeling?” The healer asked while opening up her bag of bandages and tonics. “I’m fine, the leg is a little sore” Madja hummed and said “well we have the last procedure today. If all goes well you’ll be able to walk around in a few days”. Y/n smiled at the news “really?” Madja nodded “alright, I will need any visitors to say their goodbyes now” she searched through her bag for something and Eris took his cue to leave. But before he did said “I will be back in a few days”. 

Azriel stood at the door throughout every procedure. His stomach churning every time he heard crunching or snapping coming from inside. She had been put to sleep again. Madja was done in less than an hour. 

He waited by her bedside until she woke up. After the procedures she would wake up in pain and he would be there to give her the tonic Madja had prepared. “That never gets easier to get down” she gagged at the foul taste of the concoction. “I know, it does not taste good”. He remembers all of the times he’s been hurt and forced to drink it. “You’re done though, Madja said everything went perfect. You can try to walk tomorrow” she let out a sigh “thank God”. Azriel chuckled “here, Elain made you soup” and helped you sit up so you could eat. 

“So what are you going to do?” Nesta asked, interrupting a very interesting scene in the book you were reading. She was keeping you company while Azriel was at a meeting in the River House.  “About?” She closed her book. Oh lord. “About Azriel and Eris”. You frown “I’m still lost” she leaned closer “are you going to choose?” Now you scowled “I don’t know why I would choose between two friends” Nesta rolled her eyes. “Don’t be coy, y/n” you cross your arms, defensive “I am not being coy, I am not thinking of my love life at all”. Now, she leans back and says nonchalantly “Gwyn has been dying to ask Azriel out”. Your eyes widen and you curse at how those words irked you just how Nesta wanted them to. “Gwyn does not want to go out with Az” Nesta raised a sharp brow “she used to, but since you came into the picture she’s lost interest”. You huff “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Azriel only has eyes for one person but that person seems to be undecided” 

“Why do I have to make a choice now?” 

“You don’t have to, I was just curious”.

“I barely know either of them”.

“You know them well enough to know how you feel” 

“It’s not that simple” your voice quivers and Nesta’s expression softens.

“It seems simple to me”

“It’s not. I hate talking about it but I used to be engaged to a man, back in my world. He was not kind to me. But I stayed far longer than I should have because everyone in my life kept telling me that I had to, that I should. I also had a complicated relationship with my mother. She was very… controlling”. You got lost as you remembered how she would manipulate you “Anyway, it feels that all my life I have never made a choice for myself. The only true choices I have made was leaving him, traveling and then working at the apothecary. Everything else was either orchestrated by my mother or predetermined by fate. The portal being open, Lucien finding me, meeting Azriel, meeting Eris and now I am not even human anymore”. A wave of pain floods your chest at the reminder of your stolen mortality. “I just… as much as I might like Azriel I need to heal, in more ways than one”. 

Nesta nodded “I’m sorry for everything. I understand feeling like things just happen to you without you having a say in the matter” the way her eyes darkened you knew she had also gone through something similar. You could recall from what Mor had told you that she had been made against her will and that she had a… destructive way of dealing with the trauma. “I love Cassian, he’s my mate but a part of me will always wonder about the mortal life I could have had or what I would have done if they had not locked me in this house. So I’m sorry for prying and pressuring you. I should have known better” tears are gathering in your eyes. She gets out of her chair, sits in front of you on the bed and pulls you into a hug. “I don’t know what to do,” you say, voice quiet. “Just focus on healing”. 

The following day was better, you could finally stand and walk around. 

The day after that was great, Madja said you could resume your usual activities as long as you did not put too much stress on the leg. 

The following week she gave you the all clear that everything was perfect. Azriel was with you  every day. Eris came to visit and was relieved to see you in better spirits and mobile again. Lucien had brought you gifts that Muriel, Jurian and Vassa had sent along. He told you that Muriel thought you had been sick all along and she had sent so many tonics and salves in hopes that you'd get better.Your heart warmed. It broke a little, too. Going back to the Human Lands was not an option now and that stung. 

You were at the River House for a visit when Feyre asked you what you wanted to do now. “I have no idea, but I need to get out of the House of Wind”. Feyre furrowed her brows “why? Did something happen?” You shake your head “no, no, it's just that I feel bad asking to be winnowed or flown all the time and during the day nobody is really in the house and it gets lonely”. She thinks for a moment “you could stay at the town house if you want”. You raise a brow “town house?” She nods “we used to live there but the family grew so much we needed a bigger place. I don’t think anybody is using it now… so you could move there if you like”. That sounded perfect “yes, I would love that”. Feyre smiled “that’s perfect! You’d be so close you could walk here”. 

“How will I ever repay you?” It was a sincere question, they had been keeping you alive since Lucien found you and you had no money for rent or anything. “You don’t owe us anything, you’re part of our family now” you hated how that scared you. “Seriously Feyre, is there a job I could do or something?” She shook her head “Nope, you will move to the town house and continue to heal. I think you could train with an apothecary here or even with Madja if you’re interested”. She went on to list every apothecary in town and how they would never say no if the High Lady asked them for a favor. 

A knock startled you “come in”. “How was your day?” Azriel asks and closes the door behind him. He stays in place as he sees that you are packing up your clothes into boxes. “What are you doing” you look up at him “I was at the River House today and Feyre said I could move into the town house”. 

“Oh”

“I was just telling her how it gets lonely here when all of you are gone and how I’d be more comfortable in Velaris rather than above it” 

“When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow” 

He didn’t reveal any emotion but you knew he was hurt. “She said there are several rooms… you could come with me, if you want” he shifted his stance, hands behind his back, wings tight. “Do you want me to go with you?” You reply “I don’t really want to live alone” he shakes his head. “Do you want me to go with you?” Yes, you wanted to scream. You wanted to shout and hug him and apologize for not asking him first and that he found out like this. You wanted to kiss away his frown until he was smiling. But you stood there not saying anything. 

“Y/n”

“Yes” you step closer to him “I want you to come with me” you falter. Heart beating faster, hating the vulnerability. His hands come to his sides “are you sure?” You mentally curse him “yes, I’m sure”. You are standing a foot away from him. So close you can see a glimmer of something in his eye when you finish talking. “But I have to be honest with you” the glimmer disappears “Az, I…” A lump forms in your throat and you can’t get the words out. “I like you, ok? I like you a lot and I think you like me too but-” 

He cuts you off  “I do” 

The lump gets bigger “but I can’t promise you anything other than friendship right now… I hope you can understand that” 

He steps closer and your breath falters. He is so close. You want to reach up and just touch him. He grabs your hands and says “I’d wait any amount of time for you. You have my friendship, always”. His gentleness overwhelms you and tears well up. You groan “I feel like I’m always crying” he smiles and wipes away a few stray drops. You inhale “so you’ll come with me?” He nods and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and kiss him. 

Azriel laid in his bed feeling lighter than he had in years. She likes me. 

Her words were a breath of fresh air, a cool summer breeze, a shimmering night sky. She likes me. 

He could not stop replaying the moment. She likes me. 

That night, he prayed that the fullness in his chest was something more than infatuation.

taglist: @luvmoo @leeknows-wife @nocasdatsgay @mybestfriendmademe

[slutforalastor]

Say It With A Smile, Part 4

(I have been hesitant to preface the actual text of these posts in order to let them speak for themselves, but I have to be clear, this is the point where this fic really enters territory not suitable for minors. There's only so much I can do to prevent that from happening, and it's not as though we're jumping straight into the kama sutra, but I refuse to let it go unsaid that this is not intended for minors. From here onward, it's also fair to say this will have nsft and nsfw stuff going on. With that warning, here's what you've come here for)

------

You don't know much about him, but given the prolonged silence between you two, you're getting the impression that Alastor loves to savor all things. After thanking Niffty for fetching tea for the two of you, he'd taken his time letting it cool, then taken measured sips from his "Oh Deer" mug while surveying the skyline of the Pride Ring from his bird's-eye view. You're holding a mug of tea no fuller than when you'd been handed it, the warmth on your hands helping to ground you after your near-death experience. Maybe "near-second-death experience" was more accurate. And you're frightened, but that's not the only emotion; there's a very present, yet repressed, writhing feeling squirming out from under the stifling weight of self-preservation. The sort of feeling that had an entirely separate section of Hell to help put it into practice.

You wouldn't dream of initiating the conversation. You can only wait for him to collect his thoughts, or become bored of teasing you, or whatever is making him drag out the stifling silence.

"So, little fawn. My sincerest apologies for losing my temper. I can't expect you to just forget what you saw back there. Normally, when I feel that someone could be a problem, I just kill them, but killing you hardly seems appropriate. For both of our sakes, I'd hope that you'll put that exchange out of your mind. I try very, very hard to only kill when someone's really done something to deserve it, and luckily, I don't know you well enough to judge your morality. And you may be in Hell, but that doesn't make you a bad person, does it?"

You hope not.

"Wonderful! You have my word that I will exercise the utmost restraint around you from now on. You have nothing to fear if you simply stay on my good side." He pauses, the area around his eyes darkening, like they've lost some of their luminescence. His voice, however, drips with knowing sultriness. "But you want to be on my good side, don't you?"

You do, yes. Although not only to avoid being killed.

"That goes nicely into the next point of discussion." He turns in his chair so that he's looking directly at you, his eyes finding yours no matter where they may drift. Using his cane as a visual aid, he continues. "These ears aren't the only thing that are perfectly tuned. I also have an excellent nose, much more sensitive than your average sinner's. And dear, you reek of pheromones. Just the sort that I'd normally change the station on, but these times are hardly normal. My body, powerful as it is, needs to repair itself, and it's putting a strain on the rest of me. The kind of strain that makes it... difficult, to control oneself. There's nothing worse than not being in control, wouldn't you agree?"

It might depend, honestly. Controlling one's destiny, or living space, or boundaries, those are good. But sometimes, it can be nice for someone else to take the lead.

He chuckles, but his jovial cadence loses a bit of its luster. "An area where we differ, then. I prefer to never give anyone the upper hand against me. This will not be the exception." He stands from his chair, one hand on the middle of his cane and both arms behind his back as he paces the floor, his back to you, his voice back to its usual springiness. "You're in a very unique position, little fawn. I can tell without even hearing you say it that you're interested in me, and I just so happen to be in need of a plaything, and a way to make sure that you keep my secret. Why don't you and I make a deal?"

You're not sure how interested you are in a Faustian bargain.

"Come now, this isn't a handshake, or a paper to sign. It's a promise; I'll give you the attention you're clearly craving, and in return, you never breathe a word to Charlie or Vaggie, or anyone else, about what you saw. Oh, and there'll be no touching me. But we're both adults here, so you're free to stop me at any time, and I'll be frequent with my asking permission. Seem fair?"

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your heart accelerating all over again. He's not wrong; there's an animal magnetism that keeps you from thinking straight around him. As dangerous as he is, there's an intoxicating idea of him bringing you right to the edge, and then pulling you back. The relinquishing of power, giving yourself over to something that could easily kill you, but caresses you instead. But this feels so sudden.

"Well, I'm not going to lay claim to you tonight, my dear. Where's the fun in dessert before dinner? This is an arrangement we're making that you'll honor when the mood is right. I'll have a special phone placed in your room, and should I have need of your company, I'll send for you. As long as you honor the agreement that we've made, you will have a wonderful time, and that's a guarantee."

And this is something he'll enjoy, as well?

"You must understand, the act in most of its forms does nothing at all for me. Even in the Living World I had no use for it. But this isn't about that; it's about the control. Any fool can grab whatever piece of control they can dig their claws into, but when someone gives it you willingly?" He turns, his smile curled sadistically. "Now that's entertainment."

You feel a shiver run through your body, a nervous excitement gathering in you that you're sure he can sense somehow. He crosses the distance between himself and you, with methodical steps that you know he's enjoying. Inches away from you, he takes your chin in his clawed fingers, the points settling on your skin so gently you can only feel their very edge, an eyelash away from cutting your flesh, perfectly restrained. He forces your face up, making you keep your eyes on him. In his eyes, you see the gaze of someone who's just found a new favorite toy. "We're going to have such fun together, you and I."

----

Also on AO3! | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[tleeaves]

what did cassie get wrong w Jem iyo? like to me he’s very proud and stubborn in an Asian way (it’s hard to explain but there’s something very chinese about it, culturally, how he’s optimistic and dramatic in equal parts but needs to be seen as separate from his illness so badly) and very conscious of the value of life yet resigned to his own fate yet holding his head up the way people in inspiration porn do (but it’s from a place of wanting to be normal, wanting to fit in and live and have meaning and love and responsibility in his life like a teenager). I’m curious though how could his character have popped more? and what does not seem realistic?? actual so curious

Okay love, bear with me, I'm just going to go on a bit of a ramble. I haven't put a lot of thought into my answer so it may be a bit incoherent.

So, as context for anyone else, I mentioned in another post where I was examining chronic pain and illness in fiction using TSC characters that I felt that while Jem was done quite well (he means a lot to me as a character and I relate to him like I haven't been able to with other characters before), there were some missed opportunities for his character to really pop and some things I felt Cassie didn't really do realistically.

Honestly, I think the two kind of tie together. While my illness is not terminal, there were many times I either wished for death or wished to live a fuller life unhampered by the pain and sickness. This still happens sometimes, but more of the latter. It's hard to look at healthy, able-bodied people. I marvel at just... how much easier existence must be for them. And I wish we saw more of this perspective with Jem.

While we do see him having a crisis over feeling like he's only half-living, half a man, and so he must take more yin-fen to be his full self for Tessa (this really hit hard as someone who was on steroids and felt unshackled for the first time in years, only for the pain to come back again and trip me up again sometime after I had stopped taking the meds), I also feel that we didn't quite reach a catharsis or angst that truly would have rounded his experience as a character. Optimism, pride, stubbornness, and his own subtler dramatics all do come into this, but I really would have liked to see a moment of weakness.

I think that night when he first kisses Tessa and is ranting about how she acts like a nurse and as if he is her patient, that he knows she cannot even see him as a full man, one who might desire her -- that was good. That was a moment of weakness. Emphasised when he sent her away because he did not want her to see him on his knees dusting up the drugs that give him life. That was so frickin' YES. I cannot even tell you the amount of times I feared as a teenager and even now into adulthood that I will not be seen romantically because I am just someone to take care of, a liability, and I try so hard to compensate for that to not be a burden, because I need to be seen as a "full person" to anyone able-bodied. This was just chef's kiss fantastic as a demonstration of something Cassie did so, so right to me with Jem. It's a common insecurity but not to be overlooked. For Jem it is his weakness and shorter life span, for me it's physical disfigurement (so far it's just one funky collarbone) that may worsen with age and limited physical ability (I say it so many times, but it really haunts me that I turned down a dance offered by a guy I had a major crush on because I was in too much pain to move much let alone dance, and the fact that many people avoided me when I was in my worst bouts of pain because they didn't know what to do).

Anyway, that was an example of something Cassie did right. What I would have also liked to see though is a moment where Jem is not calm and it has nothing to do with Tessa (well, it's at least not centred around Tessa). For a long time, I just wanted the pain to end. I had made peace with death because I wished for it. And there was a calmness to it. The same everyone sees in Jem. Acceptance. He argues not willingness because he fights for every second of life he gets to spend with those he loves, but I really think what would have popped is seeing him realise how much he wants for there to be a cure. He does give everyone permission to look before he calls it off to take the last resort option he never wanted before to be a Silent Brother, but I wanted to see him break down -- even if it's in private because most of our battles are when you're chronically ill -- and realise he wants to live because there is so much more he wants.

I know it's seen as very cool to accept a death that's coming to you in a lot of media, but honestly once I got past wishing for it, I became so absolutely terrified of it. The idea of losing control over my body, of my joints being too stiff and painful to create or do simple tasks, and the idea of any of my chronic illnesses being severe enough to become what might kill me in the end, before my time, scares me so much. There is a frantic need in me to do and see everything before I am unable to. I feel like I am constantly in a rush for everything in life.

It's basically rule of thumb in writing that a character who is calm needs a scene where they are not calm, when they snap, when the unthinkable happens, where the unshakeable are suddenly shook, and I needed that deep, deep terror in Jem to be about him, and not just Tessa or the people he's leaving behind that he does not want to cause grief for.

Not every person who can "put up" with their chronic illness is a saint with infinite patience. I see this a lot. To me it feels unrealistic that Jem feels okay about his illness, about his impending death, about all of it, that the only thing he might feel bad about is making his bride a widow too soon and leaving his best friend who might not cope without him. This is more of a typical trope in media, and by god do I just want to see someone else who isn't me go through what I do and also scream and cry at the injustice of it all. We didn't choose this life, it was given to us, and it feels so unfair. It is rare that I ever break down right in front of a person, I've gotten good at the detachment when talking about my chronic illnesses, but in private it is a whole other monster.

Not only that, but the Jem we see post-Brotherhood is so... different. Granted he had over 100 years to come to terms with no longer dying too early or being ill and weak. But chronic illness really takes its toll on a person. You don't have to make their whole personality their illness, I think we'd all rather not, but there is a fear that every little health problem might be something worse, there is even a begrudgement of those who take their bodies for granted, the fear that your children might inherit your weaknesses and that maybe you have sentenced them to a life of pain like yours was/is, that one day the chronic illness will come back and you've only got so many healthy years left before you get old and start to lose your body all over again.

For every moment of optimism and hope, there are hidden moments of despair and fight and pain. Sometimes we have to claw and bleed for that ounce of hope, for the strength to act "normal" and fit in and not be a downer around everyone else. As restless as you can be, sometimes you just want to sleep it off, even though you know this illness isn't something you can sleep off. I would have liked to see more of that with Jem.

Again, what Cassie did was really good, and I appreciate Jem so much since I have not seen many other chronically ill characters who I relate to in fiction. I just felt some things could have added to his story and character.

[amtrak12]

Possible Ending for Pushing Daisies

Thesis Notes:

Apologies, but this will not include screencaps to demonstrate my theories. I have other things I want to devote my energy to today, but still needed to get these thoughts out.

I will be using the word "artifact" in the Warehouse 13 sense of the word, aka: an object of human construction that has been imbued with unexplainable, and thus treated as magical, abilities. These abilities typically include an inconvenient or even dangerous downside.

Literally no idea what Bryan Fuller, et all ever said about their intentions for the show if it hadn't been canceled or if they ever said anything post-cancellation. I am working entirely off the canon text here.

Introduction:

Obviously, Pushing Daisies ended before it could reveal what its long term goals for the story were. Did they want to solve Ned and Chuck's issues with touch? Did they want to explain where Ned's powers came from? Were they ever going to explicitly admit to what they implied about the people (and animals) Ned kept alive being immortal???

Absolutely no idea and we can never know for sure. However, they did leave clues and untied plot strings, primarily with the history of Dwight Dixon, Charles Charles, and Ned's father (who was never given a name) and the pocket watches Dwight desperately wanted to find.

Now given the slow roll of these plot points and the deliberate mystery surrounding them, I suspect whatever that trio got up to was the long term plot. And for it to be the long term plot of Pushing Daisies, then presumably it would address the premise of the show, aka Ned's powers to wake the dead.

Foundation Theory:

Dwight, Charles, and Ned's father came across some valuable artifact during their time in the UN Peace Corp, stole it, and divided it up into three equal pieces that they hid in the pocket watches. (Alternatively, they hid the artifact somewhere and divided the map to the hidden location up into three equal pieces.) This artifact is responsible for Ned's powers.

Evidence:

The picture of the three men in the Blue Berets shows them on camels in the desert. This doesn't have to mean Egypt, however Egyptian curses are a very common motif, and Pushing Daisies loved taking story cliches and putting an exaggerated fantasy spin on them. The camels and desert was absolutely chosen on purpose which means it's relevant which means it shows where the men were when they at least bought the pocket watches.

So we have pocket watches and some version of an Egyptian curse. We also have Ned's father leaving after Ned's mother and Charles Charles died, which is important, not only for Ned's backstory, but as insight into his father's motivations.

Detailed Theory:

I posit that the three men knew of the dangerous repercussions when they took this artifact. Maybe it came with a written warning, maybe there was a legend about it, etc. Did the men understand the details of this danger? No. Did they even believe the warning? Well, certainly not enough to stop them from stealing it.

I don't believe they stole this artifact for power. I don't think they believed it was magical in any way. There was not one minuscule hint at any of these men having or tying to obtain magical powers, and Dwight was genuinely shocked at Ned bringing Charles back to life. I think the men were after money. Dwight would certainly be after money most after spending twenty years in jail, so his actions support this theory. Sell one piece of the artifact? Make a nice chunk of change. Sell the entire artifact at once? Make a fortune.

Ned's Powers:

Two ways this can go. Option A: Stealing the artifact, triggered the "curse" to go into effect. Like how the replacement victim when Ned keeps a dead person alive longer than a minute is a random proximity thing, the curse was a random proximity thing and landed on Ned. Option B: Breaking the artifact into three pieces, separated its powers from the object and -- again through random proximity -- the powers landed on Ned. I personally like option B, but I'm a WH13 girlie and your mileage may vary.

Ned's Father:

I think Ned's father knew about his powers. Maybe not before Ned's mother and Chuck's father died (most likely not before), but certainly after. When it happened, he remembered the warning about the artifact, put that information together, felt guilty, and then shipped Ned off to boarding school to try and forget it ever happened (hence the second family).

But it did happen and his father could never really put that guilt behind him. So, he abandoned his second family to dig into the artifact and figure out the curse, while also keeping a distant eye on Ned.

End Game of the Show:

Taking all of this to be true, then the end game would be for Ned and Chuck to learn about what their fathers stole and learn what Ned's dad has dug up about the artifact and curse. Then comes the decision: Do they collect the pieces and restore the artifact to its rightful place? It seems like an easy decision, but it does bring up the following hiccups. Would returning the artifact take away Ned's powers? Does he want his powers to be gone when he's just started to accept them as a super power? It's one thing to choose not to use them and another to not have them at all. Would he be able to touch Chuck if he didn't have his powers anymore or is that something already set into motion and his second touch would still kill her no matter what? Or, worse yet, would Chuck die the instant they returned the artifact?

Adding to the conflict is Ned's father who has done all this research and still sees Ned's powers as a clear-cut upside. A gift, ultimately, and not a curse at all. He doesn't want to return the artifact and isn't willing to handle over his piece of it in the pocket watch. "Look at all the people you've helped! The victims you got justice for, the families you helped find closure. You were able to bring Chuck back to life! You're going to risk throwing that away?" The words just fuel Ned's doubts and guilt. Because there has been good from it. He has helped people, and what if Chuck did die again?

But it was built on something wrong. So he and Chuck ultimately decide (together, of course, as always) that they don't want to live with that and choose to return the artifact. Again, you have two options here: they could convince Ned's father it's the right thing to do and he hands over his piece of the artifact OR he continues to disagree with them and they have to steal his piece from him and go behind his back to return it. It depends on whether you want to give Ned's father a redemption arc or not. Personally, I do not. :P Leave redemption to shows like Lucifer and The Good Place. I am here for technicolor spite.

Happy Ending:

Returning the artifact takes away Ned's powers, but it does not undo anything he did with those powers. The people who died (the funeral director, Dwight) are still dead. The people who are alive again (Chuck, Digby, Charles), are still alive.

But no longer immortal. The immortality was an extension of Ned's powers. No powers, no immortality. Both Digby and Chuck will now age again.

And both can be touched by Ned without dying. :) Relief! Happy ending! But earned, I feel. Even when I was watching it brand new, I definitely wanted them to be able to touch again because it ached so much, but I also didn't want it to be for random reasons, like the consequences wore off after 'x' amount of time. The journey I listed above is indeed a journey, and thus doesn't feel random to me.

Closing Thoughts:

I like how this integrates the loose threads in the show. I like what it says about the damage and trauma parents can pass on to their children and how it doesn't have to be intentional to leave lasting scars. Depending on how you frame the artifact theft, you can even do commentary on colonization, land back, and reparations.

And no, I don't think Chuck's father will suddenly start decaying the moment they return the artifact. This show uses the cartoon logic of a wagon of hay being enough to avoid injury after falling multiple stories out of a bell tower. So, even though Charles was dead and buried for twenty years and presumably has no internal organs because they would've done an autopsy at the time of his mysterious death, he will continue to live and age like normal, just with a permanent corpse face. :P

[reenvisiongame]

The inn's done. How about a brief tour?

Took far longer than I expected, but the inn is finally done! I actually finished this up around October, but as they say, the last 20% takes 80% of the work. For the most part, the visuals of the inn won't change much from here to the end of the game, which is exactly why I spent so much time on it!

With this being the most important location of the story, I wanted it to be as good as it can possibly be. It was my hope that putting a lot of effort in now means I won't have to worry about this place as much during the end phases of development. Now even with this, please remember: nothing here is 100% final. Anything can change from here through to the game's release.

I've already introduced the inn's staff in a previous post, but one character I neglected to mention was OJ. He's a weird little guy who can almost always be found in the inn's dining hall. No one ever seems to mention him, but he's a friendly conversationalist nonetheless. Keep an eye on him as the game progresses and you might find out why people choose to pass him by, however.

One thing about Clemence Inn is that it also doubles as a town hall. Shepherd, the mayor of the town of Clemence, has an office space of his very own. Can you tell what he likes from appearances alone?

You can't really have an inn without a place to cook, now can you. This is the kitchen area, where all the yummy food is cooked up for the inn's many visitors. Every now and then, you might see a friendly face in there.

Heading upstairs, the inn is split into two separate hallways; One for guests and one for residents. As the player, you get a resident room! When you start the game, your room will be rather empty but, as you progress, the room will become even fuller than what's shown here.

Heading outside, we have the inn's garden area. This place is ideal for any guest who wants to simply relax and enjoy the peaceful scenery. To help maximize the tranquility, there's even a fountain in the middle of the garden.

With the garden area, I should mention that part of the reason this took me so long is because I had to redo the outdoor tilesheet as well. This was a lot of work, but the results paid off tremendously. Just outside the inn greets you with a rather pretty view!

Unless this post is take 8 minutes of straight scrolling, I unfortunately can't show off all of the inn and its surrounding area. So, I picked the parts that I thought were the most interesting. There's a lot more to the inn than what I've shown here, but I suppose this just means there's more to explore when the game releases.

Currently, I've been reworking the player's battle spritesheets. It's about time I finally make a more "finalized" version of these, especially now that I have a better grasp of what is and isn't working in the game's battle system.

Along with making adjustments relating to that, my plan is to add more places to the game. Next up will be the game's first "dungeon", in quotes because it's less so a dungeon and moreso a 2-room-long walk through nature. After that, I'll work on another location in the game, Clemence's library. My goal is to just slowly expand outwards until the entirety of Clemence is done, then continue to just add more places from there, slowly branching out until the entire game's map is complete. I think that'll give me enough time to do things like finish the game's script, add all the enemies and boss fights i wanted, add more items, make more adjustments, etc.

From here on out, everything about development seems like it'll be taking less of a "step by step" method and more of a "everything will kinda just flow where I need it to be by the end of this" method. In the meantime, here's to hoping the next big update takes a little less than 5 months to show off :P

And before I forget, have a happy holidays and new years everyone!

[themanywomeninmyhead]

The Caged Bird: Chapter 1: From France With Love

Peaky Blinders OC: Nurse Flo matches witts via letters with Thomas Shelby over the years as their lives lead them on separate but similar journies.

Pairing: OC(Florence Bell)/Tommy Shelby

Muse Insert (Will Post a Y/N Version As Well)

OC Aka Flo Belongs To Me

Time Period: 1919 (Season 1)

Warning: 18+, Violence, Suggestive Language, Eventual Smut

X | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Interlude |

“Is it okay if I write to you every now and again,” Thomas said never taking his eyes off of the stucco of the dingy brothel ceiling. Like most men stuck in this god-forsaken place full of gunfire and the sounds of never ceasing bombs he sought solace in between the legs of a beautiful woman. Thought in the last six months or so this particular woman did not open her legs to him. Instead, she stimulated his mind with conversations he had not had the like of in a very long time. She was a nurse, not a prostitute though it never stopped many a man from trying.

Florence or Flo if she liked you well enough could not be described as traditionally beautiful. With her long and curly brown hair in a tidy bun on the top of her head save for a few tendrils that framed her face. Skin normally the color of sienna grown slightly paler in the almost winter weather shown with a layer of sweat accumulated from a hard day's work. If you weren't too busy writhing in pain as she treated, you could see the brilliance of a great mind shining from behind her dark brown eyes. A plain yet fuller figure when standing in comparison to the tall waiver-thin beauties of the brothel. And as sweet as she looked in her uniform the woman was all piss and vinegar with a mouth full of venom.

“You don't take me for the type who writes. Reading now I've seen you, devour, a book or two but writing as if we were some long-lost lovers from another life. Are you getting sentimental on me Shelby?” Flo said as she finished treating the wound on his side. The familiar mischievous glint of her eyes told a different story. She would indeed miss her friend but it seemed he had forgotten they were from two very different worlds.

“Come now Florence no need to be crude. We both know that I'm going back to a life where there's a certain lack of deep, intellectual conversation. Who would have thought-”

“That you can find such conversation from a colored girl or better yet that you'd find it as you watched your kinsmen die?”

“‘As anybody ever told you that that mouth of yours will get you in trouble?”

“Are you trying to be that trouble, Tommy?” She replied as she begin to pack up her bag taking her time to clean all her instruments just in case. The war was over, so they said but she felt like she would never be able to wash away all the blood from her hands. No matter how hard she tried or how long she scrubbed.

“If the idea offends you so much when I send my letter don't write back. I think we both know I'm not the type of man to beg for attention.” Tommy sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette and stood up to grab a shirt. As he dressed he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. This was the first girl no, the first woman who had ever made him feel alive without ever having to be inside of her. And while he would continue to exist once he walked out the door and never saw her again. He could not help but feel like his life would be bereft without her in it.

Closing her bag she turned and looked at him memorizing his high cheekbones, pale skin, and the lightning blue of his eyes. This was a man who wanted the world to see his greatness. Who would burn it for its warmth if he so desired? And here he was humbling himself to a foul-mouthed girl from the deep south whose dreams had led her to the once glamorous shores of the south of France.

“We’ll See Mr. Shelby we’ll see,” Flo said giving a polite nod of her head before turning and leaving the room. It will be easier this way. To part in this formal way instead of what happened to become the norm. Where she would wrap him up and hug and tell him not to be a fool down in the deep dark earth where he and his fellows toiled away.

She passed the proprietress on the way down the stairs and handed the woman a few bills. The red-lipped woman smiled and raised a brow in question. Juliana would be paid twice for these casual meet-ups between the two. While the woman paid for him to be comforted by one of her girls, he would pay for the room and to be left alone. The blue-eyed devil preferred not to taint his interactions with the angel from the battlefield who dressed him down every chance she got. He would bury his frustrations in one of the girls the next morning with just enough time to return to the front.

- Dear Flo,

You’ll probably burn this when you get it but I thought I’d write it to pass the time nonetheless. I heard through the grapevine that you are still in that hell hole. But I remembered for you returning home to the states would be just as dangerous. I have enclosed the payment for those services that you requested for me. I always wondered what exactly went through your head when you would send these women up to sleep with me after patching me up. Did you have my best interests at heart or, did you figure it would be a good painkiller, or had it simply become routine? A way for grumpy men to let off steam while helping to support the local brothel workers.

Either way, I thank you for that and felt the need to pay you back. I hear that nurses don't make a lot and that nurses with your particular skillset make even less. Nothing's changed here in Birmingham. It's like time froze when we went away and unfroze when we returned. The only difference was that the women were working the jobs that we once had. Aunt Pol, bless her has done a very good job of keeping what was left of the Peakies together. I think it's hard for her to let go of her position of power and rest. It was never my desire for her who has lost so much to end up working too closely in this life after a certain time.

I am starting to drone on now so I will cut this short. There have been tales of unscrupulous men who stalk the streets of Paris. I know you’re rather proficient with the switchblade you keep hidden away in your skirts but a package will be sent to you shortly for your protection. I look forward to hearing from you soon. But am understanding if I am not the type of man you prefer to have correspondence with. Might I ask what type of man you would prefer I be? I can’t promise change but I can attempt a compromise. It sounds odd even as I write it. On second thought you should burn this so it can never see the light of day again.

Yours Truly, Thomas Shelby

Dear Tommy,

I started to burn this and then thought better of it. Now that there is an ocean between us I can breathe a sigh of relief. First things first I don’t need your money as I have said before. I’m sure to you it was from honest work but I know better. I may be from humble means but I also have a bit of pride. As for your Aunt, from what you told me before she is the type of woman who does not know how to be still for very long. A trait that we two women you seem to enjoy bothering have in common. Keeping busy makes her feel alive and you should let her be.

With my meager savings, I’ve managed to get a house in New York, it was on the market after a dear friend of mine died in the War leaving behind a widow and young child. In the next few weeks, I will be returning to the states and opening up a clinic in the basement. The widow and child will stay with me of course. As for my safety….I have had to correct more than my share of poor good old boys who have been left behind. I hold no ill will towards them but if I must I will carve them up like a Christmas ham. I will return your gift if it arrives before I board my ship.

I am not a woman you should allow yourself to change for. To the world, I am still only 2/3rds of a person as a woman and a person of color. A pretty bon bon to keep on the table to bring out and pass around in order to impress your friends. To be seen but not heard. Even though you’ve never expressed it I’m sure that would be something you would eventually request. It confuses me as to why my existence is something you are so intrigued by. Is it because you’ve never been told no or is it because you truly want to know me? For I am no more a force that can be understood as you are one that could love.

Begrudgingly Yours, Florence Bell

P.S. I enjoy the dark dance of your ever-scheming mind, so do not even think of changing into what you think I would prefer.

[theexodvs]

Why I Deconstructed out of the MRM

Now that Post+ is gone, I find myself needing to explain why I am no longer an MRA, this time in a publicly-viewable post.

I encountered the MRM during my young adulthood, about the time I developed an addiction to pornography. These two are linked, because both the MRA and the porn addict see are discipled into seeing women as objects, explaining the substantial overlap. I don't have a handsome mug or good social skills, and I thought as long as I was broke, I had no way of getting any women's attention. This made me bitter

Regrettably, much of my technical skills comes from finding workarounds to the filters I had put in place. My dad and I were involved in a full arms race, in which I ultimately had a Pyrrhic victory. Through this he patiently informed me on how what I was doing was poisoning my mind in regards to my view of women. He hit the nail on the head. He discussed the entitlement I felt that led me to porn. This was the same entitlement that embittered me into thinking they'd mistreat me and get away with it, without evidence.

When I got my first job, I was asked what sort of women I was into. I said I was into women with fuller-figured women, and word got around until a female coworker with a fuller figure came around and began to slap me on my rear. I was taken aback. She repeatedly asked to sleep with me as well. I asked my dad advice and he said he knew this situation was stroking my ego.

And it did. My ego was stroked harder than Randy Travis and Tim Curry put together. He further told me about a situation that occurred a few years after he was married, when a female coworker wanted to go on every business trip with him and even asked to share the same hotel room with him despite the company affording to lodge them separately. He found it in his heart to forgive her, but still sought to be transferred to a different department. His coworker, like mine, was discipled into thinking she had no value besides which and how many men she slept with. However, I was not raised to see women that way.

It was then I realized what my coworker was doing to me was what I had been doing to countless women through a computer screen. She was guilty of (confirmably) treating one man like a sex object, and I had already lost track of how many women I was guilty of treating like a sex object. What she did was wrong. What I did was worse. She later apologized for what she did. I did one of the hardest things ever in my life to that point. I had shoveled concrete in Honduran summer. I had run mules straight without a breather. I had stood in for managers during lunch rush. I had managed to get good enough scores on my ACT to skip an entire math class at university. What thing was harder than all of this?

I forgave her.

The thought of filing a harassment claim crossed my mind. Think about it: I was one formal complaint away from getting her fired. Any subsequent employer would ask her why she lost her job, and would likely refuse to hire her if they knew. With one formal complaint, I could have doomed this woman to a lifetime of begging and/or prostitution. My coworker's ability to provide for herself was not worth my personal sense of revenge.

Knowing that I was left off the hook for the things I had done, it started to dawn on me that men really have gotten the better end of the stick, and I began to examine the claims I had heard from the MRM. I found that most custody arrangements are decided outside the courts; conscription laws globally are written mostly by men, in order to fight wars that benefit rich men; that no-fault divorce benefits more men than women, and men who don't want to provide for their ex-wives had the option of not marrying them in the first place; and that women don't have an easier time than men making accusations of sexual assault. It was about eight months after my coworker and I reconciled that I fully discarded the MRM.

And I am glad I have.

[eli-writes-sometimes]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @lyssentome, thanks for that!

Rules: post seven snippets and tag seven people.

This is gonna be a long one so snippets will be under the cut

1.

“Right, here’s two black roses. That’ll be five coppers, if you’ll be so kind.” I start as Hunter returns, clutching a small glass with two delicate black roses in them, and waves her hand in the air as my father reaches into his pocket for the money. 

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Hunter, but I have to ask. Why are you doing that thing with your hand?” I ask, and hope that the question doesn’t come across as offensive - I can’t be seen as intolerant towards others, even if their actions make no sense. 

“Oh, don’t you know? This is how I water my plants! There’s a lot of water in the air that we can’t see, and I can manipulate it to get enough water for all my plants, like this!”

She pulls her hand sharply back towards herself, and droplets of water begin to appear in the glass, quickly filling it up past the stems of the roses, which almost begin to look fuller and healthier, although that might just be a trick of my imagination. 

“Very impressive.” I say, and she smiles. I’m glad to hand out validation when these people probably don’t get it from elsewhere.

2.

“I thought that we were going to pay our respects. She is dead, after all.” “Well, I can see why you might have thought that. But, due to…” His eyebrows start to come closer, only slightly, but I instantly recognise his face reserved for considering the exact words to say to someone that means that they will agree with him and stay calm. Finally, he sighs, and gives me whatever version of events that he believes that I will take the best way. “Due to the manner of the incident that has occurred, it would be best for our public image for us to make a statement, separating this incident from our name.” “Yes. You said.” 

The comment slips out more deadpan than I intended, and my father clearly notices. 

“Excuse me?” “Well, you’ve been very clear that you want to separate our name from this incident, but you’ve been adamant on just changing the subject, or saying that I wouldn’t believe you. But here’s the thing. Every time that you say that I wouldn’t believe you, it makes me more and more inclined to not believe you. So, are you going to give me a straight answer, or am I going to turn around and walk back home, sending you to your little reputation-ruining eulogy with nothing.”

3.

“I- What are you talking about?” “Trust me. Please.” “I can’t! How can I trust you when you keep avoiding the question like it’s an assassin with a knife?” “I- It’s hard for me to talk about this. Can’t you have some respect for your father for once?”

He’s wrong. I know that he’s wrong, he probably knows it too. But he’ll never back down, and we both know that, as long as no-one saw it, it never happened. 

The beauty of politics, he calls it. The horror, more like, but I’d never tell him that. 

He looks back at me with that smug, smug look on his face, and we both know that there’s nothing I can do or say that will ever come close to outsmarting him.  I sigh, defeated. “Sorry, Father.” “Of course. I can forgive you this, because this must be a lot to take in. That comment may have been slightly uncalled for, and I apologise for that if that will help you calm down. I need you to be upset but not in a state in which you cannot deliver a speech.”

4.

“Now, get dressed quickly. Formal attire, obviously. Wear something black, and have a rose in your hair.” “A rose? Who’s dead?”

Wearing a rose is the highest form of respect for someone who has passed, and people of our societal level would only wear it for someone incredibly important or close to us. 

“Alya Maxwell.” His tone is as monotonous as ever, and he looks almost surprised when I recoil in horror. “Alya’s dead? Gods, Father, break it to me gently!” Even as I say it, I wince and shrink back, hoping he won’t notice me taking the name of the Gods in vain. 

He gives me a withering look, his purple eyes boring into mine, but quickly replaces it with an uncharacteristic look of sympathy as he takes in the look on my face. Alya never meant that much to me, but I still find myself feeling upset on her behalf. Unlike my father would like to believe, I do still have feelings.

5.

My father would never admit something like that. He always wants to keep up his image of a perfect man with a perfect life, and not just in front of the crowds. He’ll never admit he doesn’t know something, not even to me. 

“I- no reason. Sorry, Father.” “Hm. Well, we’re nearly here. Ah, but let’s make a stop here. I see you haven’t got the rose I asked you to get.” He gestures at a flower shop, and I feel my face growing red.

“We didn’t have any!” He smiles as I start to get defensive, and I fight off the defeated sigh that is attempting to force its way up my throat. I’ve always hated when he does that, when he laughs at my pain. I just tell myself that it’s because he has a lot on his mind, and hope that, if I say it enough, I might start to believe it. 

“Right, right, of course.” He says, almost chuckling at the expression on my face, and I fight down the urge to get even angrier. We’re in public, and I know what happens when I make a scene in public. If I embarrass him, then I embarrass myself, and if we fall out of public favour, we’re ruined. Reputation is everything, and we both know that. 

6.

“Wait a second. Memorial?” “You think something like that could happen and Alya would survive?” “Maybe! She’s a resilient woman!” “Right. But not that resilient. Someone tried to go in and look for her, and the shadows flew out at him, knocked him to the floor like a ragdoll.” “They’re physical things?”

This is bad. I’ve never heard much about shadow manipulators - there seems to be some kind of town wide taboo on the subject, and no one seems to be able to broach the subject without getting really paranoid, looking over their shoulders like the law-enforcement officers are going to jump out behind them and arrest them for disturbing the peace - but of the few nuggets of information that I’ve been able to get out of them, the shadows created by those that could control them were never physical things, and only the most powerful could actually solidify them. 

7.

My job isn’t as bad as it could be, and my charisma has to count for something, because I probably wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have it. I’ve managed to make at least one “friend” with the personality that I built for myself, and they seem to tolerate me, for now. I don’t know what will happen when they find out what I really am, but I suppose I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it, just like all the others. There's a reason that I took the name Ashes. 

But, all things considered, the people here do seem to tolerate me, at least. They trust me enough to open up to me, at least, so that’s why I’m not as surprised as I maybe should be when Kallisto Ried, my only “friend”, and a regular of the Black Swan. 

I’m polishing the glassware, just like any other day, facing away from the door towards the area in the back where I can hear Jett, the owner of the tavern, chastising Alekto, the guy supposed to be helping me on my shift, for being late again, and him once again pleading guilty to spending too much time with his boyfriend. I sigh, not being one for romance, and turn back to the door, where I hear a loud crash, and the door suddenly swings inward violently, and Kallsito runs in.

Tagging - @mariahwritesstuff @elizaellwrites @druidx @writeintrees @ehlaaaaaaaa @rms-writes @e-lisard

[onchyart]

The show didn' handle race well. It exoticised Japanese culture to the point Chiyo was less of a character and more of a perpetuation of the silent Asian Assassin trope.

And Fuller said the speech from Hannibal regarding the muralist appreciating skin color for pure aesthetic purposes and not being politicized was an opinion he shared, which is uncomfortable, especially for a White man to say since in an interview he said he was sad he wouldn't be able to go up and tell a Black person he thought their skin color was beautiful (as if they need the "compliment")

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree |strongly disagree

Chiyoh was underdeveloped and it is a crime. Exoticising of Japanese culture was in the books that were written in the 80s. Handled better in the show, but this topic needs conscious deconstruction and not just be a part of aesthetic exercise as it is right now. "Art is inherently political" wasn't a part of the mainstream culture then and the limp liberal "I dont see color" line of thinking was rampant through the 10s, so it is not surprise Fuller said what he said. Also, horror as a genre is only now is becoming something people are willing to discuss through political lenses (it has been before ofc, but people were so quick to shut it down and pretend it is all in good fun). Why I am not strongly agreeing on your take? Because this discussion deserves level-headed thinking and people on social medias are usually tended to be jumpy, conclusive in all the wrong places and self-righteous to the detriment of the topic at hand, without contributing anything new or productive. I am not saying it is you, who are those things anon, I am glad you are paying attention and not just mindlessly consuming the text. I think you should do a separate text post with your thoughts and how this theme could be better handled, cause we need this for the future, so our art would not suck balls like that.

send me unpopular opinions

[swiftwidget]

MHA Chapter 301 Analysis

“The Wrong Way to Put Out a Fire: Part 1” 

  ***SPOILERS AHEAD***

_______

Who was Rei Todoroki comparing her children to and which child did she see peeking through the door that day?

Chapter 301 is incredibly revealing and shows that a flashback based upon a single character’s point of view is not and cannot be read as the full story. 

What we knew of the Todoroki family - specifically Enji and Rei - mainly came from Shouto’s flashbacks during the Sports Festival and what we essentially overheard the family discuss when the focus is turned on them. 

However! It isn��t the full story! It can even be misleading! 

That is a mind-blowing way to write in a series like this. Just 100% good use of double-meaning and reread value. Horikoshi is honest-to-goodness impressive.

_______

Chapter 301 reveals at least the first half of the downfall of the Todoroki family structure and life. 

We have a marriage built upon an agreement. 

A man with growing power and influence marrying the daughter of an old-money family that had lost its prestige over time. Both parties understood that they had their part to give. Enji gives Rei’s family a continued connection to power, influence, and money while Rei offers her ice quirk to create the kind of child Enji Todoroki wants.

Enji as the Hero Endeavor has at this point already given up on becoming Number 1. He’s seen the gap between himself and All Might and judged that he comes up short. He simply isn’t able to bridge that gap, but he believes a child of his can - given the right quirk combination. 

Enji and Rei have their first child, Touya, and have a second, Fuyumi, to be his companion and support. 

Enji told Touya what he was going to be, built up the expectation (and pressure) that he’d teach him to be the Number 1 hero. But Touya’s body and quirk don’t match. His quirk harmed his body. At no fault of his own, Touya was judged as incapable of fulfilling Endeavor’s vision. 

All Touya wanted was his father’s attention and affection. He pushed himself to prove he still could be a great hero with his quirk, and hurt himself trying to get the attention he needed as a child. 

Enji, being an extremely well-written flawed character, wants two things: 1) to continue his vision and 2) to get his first child to stop hurting himself. So, he does what he believes would solve both problems. Continue pushing for the successful mix of quirks. His thought process likely being: If Touya could see that he couldn’t bridge the gap and wouldn’t have to, surely he’d stop. 

But to Touya, he’s being replaced. Left behind. Erased. 

Being cast aside and told to try something else only fuels his desperation to prove himself. It fuels his anger too. He continues to self-destruct. 

And he lashes out. 

Where was Rei during all of this? 

Rei, meanwhile, had been upholding her end of the marriage arrangement. Having child after child put her under more and more strain, exhausting her. Maybe she believed that Enji’s plan would get Touya to stop. Maybe she believed that they all had their part to endure to be in this family. 

Then, Touya lashed out at her and the infant Shouto with his flames. 

I think this will be continued in the next chapter, but this is what we already know:

Touya lashed out at Rei and Shouto when Enji pushed him away

Shouto lived mostly separated from his siblings for the majority of his childhood, including Touya who was still present

Enji put Rei in a mental hospital when she poured boiling water on Shouto

Touya’s “death” occurred shortly after Rei was sent to the hospital

If Touya lashed out only once, there wouldn’t be a need to separate Shouto from him for so long. It’s likely Touya lashed out more than once. As sad as it is, it is also possible that he was not put through proper therapy and instead was sedated or punished. 

If Touya wasn’t getting the help he needed and he lashed out with his fire more than once?

How do you stop your child from burning you, your other children, or himself? 

How do you put out a fire?

You pour water on it. 

You use whatever water is nearby. Over and over for as many times as he ignites himself. 

That was Rei’s job as Touya’s mother. When he was upset and burst into flames, she said it herself: “We have to cool him down!” 

So when Shouto overheard her talking to her mother in his flashback, what he understood was that he was being compared to Endeavor and his mother couldn’t stand to raise him anymore. 

But what did Rei see? Who?

She saw Touya as he was when his hair was still turning white. Her baby boy, Touya, overhearing her compare the children to him and rejecting him. Saying she shouldn’t be the one to raise Touya because she can’t help him when she can clearly see he needs help. And in that state of extreme stress, she thought Touya had come to lash out again. 

So she grabbed the water she had on hand and poured. 

_______

This chapter is incredibly revealing and just the title card itself seems to point in this direction. 

“That’s why I’m here.” Rei is stepping up again to put out a fire. This time hopefully the right way. 

Enji was a terrible father, but not just for the reasons we believed we knew. He never let go of his vision and expected Touya to give up for the same reasons he did. Endeavor pushed Shouto to succeed not only for his vision but also to save the life of Touya whose drive he couldn’t understand. He was and is an extremely flawed and desperate man. 

Rei hurt Shouto, but not because he reminded her of Endeavor. She was scrambling to put out Touya’s flames, trying to do what she could with what little support, mental stability, and options she believed she had available. Pushed to the brink, she slipped up and mistook Shouto for Touya. 

Enji and Rei are both incredibly well-written flawed parents. We’re only now seeing the fuller picture.  

_______

This is in part a continuation and expansion of this post. 

This post is based on my real-time realization discussion on the Toshinoumu discord manga chat page. If you want to read the Toshinoumu AU/ “I Am...” Series, check out our @toshinoumu blog for more information. 

_______

Additional fun/sad fact courtesy of @aoimikans​: Rei’s favorite flower is a blue lily. Lily roots and bulbs have been used for medicinal purposes. They were boiled into teas to treat stomach disorders, fevers, and assist women in labor. They have also been used topically to treat sores and burns. The essential oil is used to help treat depression. 

_______

ALSO I SEE YOU DOCTOR YOU CAN’T HIDE! 

[buckyownsmylife]

Memory - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting

A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby​‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.

There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.

She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.

Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.

I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.

I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.

Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.

It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.

A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.

She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.

“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.

“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.

He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”

It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.

It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.

“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.

“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.

“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.

“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.

We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.

“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”

The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.

“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.

“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.

But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.

“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”

And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.

“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.

“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”

Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.

“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.

“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.

“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.

And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.

“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.

“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.

“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.

“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”

A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.

Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.

“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”

I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.

“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.

He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.

I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.

What a mistake.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”

I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.

He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.

“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”

I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.

“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”

That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…

So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.

“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.

“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”

Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.

My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”

The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.

“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”

Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.

“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”

[just-good-stuff-and-good-vibes]

Centaurworld Tinfoil Hat Post

I am very much enjoying this silly and heartbreaking show. It’s lovely and muppet-y and not afraid to absolutely stomp you in the feels. I had some thoughts on it I wanted to vent. Spoilers ahead!

I think what I really love about this show is how it deals with strength and connections. From the very first moments of the show, it conveys that our strength comes from our bonds with others. Horse is afraid as they come to the decimated village, and Rider seems devastated. However, through their bond they are able to move forward.

When Horse meets the herd she is only able to proceed in her quest to return to Rider by asking for their help first. When the herd need help understanding the key, Waterbaby’s connection to Wammawink points them in the right direction. When they meet the tree shamans, it’s Horse’s budding connection to Wammawink that really gets them what they need. When Horse separates herself is when she falls under despair and gives herself over to the Whaletuar. And there Wammawink’s connection with her and her connection to Rider pull her out and once again move her forward. When the worlds are joined at the end, Waterbaby remarks that this is how it’s meant to be.

What makes this choice of theme so compelling to me is it’s connection to format. This show is a musical. Music can be made by one person, sure. But it gains something important by having another join in. A single melody, when joined by another, is inherently changed. It becomes richer, fuller, more vibrant. I think the show is a musical partly because musicals are great, but also because it embodies the connections that allow us to become more than we are alone.

Now as far as that guy is concerned. Mr. Deergoop himself. If you listen to his song there are several references to quiet, silence, hush. For as short as the song is, that doesn’t seem coincidental. So here comes the tinfoil part. I imagine that the Nowhere King embodies the idea that connection with others is not worth the hurt it can cause, which is what I imagine he was referring to when he spoke to the unnamed human woman. My guess is he set out to stop himself and others from feeling the pain of loss or abandonment by order of cutting himself off from everyone, and then cutting everyone off from each other. In an ironic way I think he got his wish, which is why he couldn’t abide visitors. In a way I think he embodies the trauma of a great hurt between the two words, and was sealed away because he was harmful. The paradox of this is that burying hurt parts of ourselves stifles our ability to heal. In order to heal we need healthy, gentle connections to others. When we can’t heal, we are stuck, unable to move forward.

I will be waiting with curiosity to see how this king is defeated. I don’t think a battle will do it. I think we are going to have to reckon with the past.

If you made it this far, you’re an absolute peach. I’ve been curious about other readings and theories about this show. Please share!

[god-of-dust]

since i already posted Rising Sun, i thought that it would be interesting to show part of my writing process for it. this is part of the first, unedited draft that i wrote without any finesse and then rewrote completely. notice the “send help” bit XD

He waits until Aang's finished with his mantras before speaking. “Can I have your opinion on something?”

“I'm listening,” Aang says, voice deep and resonant.

“The anniversary of the genocide will be in a few months,” he begins, unsure on how to approach the subject.

Slowly, Aang exhales, rolls his shoulders and neck and opens his eyes to look at Zuko. “Yes.”

“I'd like to make it an official day of remembrance.” He passes a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts.

“That's... incredibly thoughtful, Zuko. Thank you.”

Zuko scratches at a bit of sealing wax that's stuck to his desk. “The power I have means nothing if I don't use it to right the wrongs that my family has done. To be honest, there's a lot that needs to be mended, especially when it comes to your people, and even for this anniversary I have no idea what to do. What's the appropriate way to do this?”

“In truth, I have no idea either.” Aang briefly clutches his beads. “Now that the war is over, I have more space to think about what happened and how I want to honor my people so that their teachings aren't forgotten, but it's—well, a lot.”

“I was thinking about theatre—a play that tells the real story, what truly happened that day, instead of that bullshit militaristic propaganda we've been fed during the war.” Zuko offers cautiously.

“That could work. Can I think about it some more?”

“Of course you can. But, um, on the topic of propaganda... there's also something else I've been meaning to ask you.”

“There's always something else,” Aang says, and even though his tone is neutral Zuko still flinches. There's unconcealed tiredness in those words, one that Zuko is well-acquainted with; long nights spent wondering if the demands of his title will pile up and pile up until they swallow him whole, followed by long days where he brushes away the bruises under his eyes and puts on his best diplomatic face to attend to those very same demands.

“I'm working with my advisors to completely rewrite the school curriculum. They've been a great help, but for all their genuine interest they've been indoctrinated about Air Nomads as much as anyone else in this nation. I want kids to be taught about your culture, and for that I need you.” Before Aang can reply, Zuko speaks again. “I know that I'm asking too much. I know that this would be yet another responsibility you got saddled with... but you're also the best person possible for this.”

Aang's smile is a wry, bitter thing that makes Zuko's chest ache like a hollowed out tree. “Not the best. The only one.”

“You're not the only one. I could recruit some of the Air Acolytes if you think it's a good idea.”

“No, that wouldn't be enough,” Aang says, shaking his head minutely. “They're passionate scholars, and their presence soothes the part of me that was afraid that any hope for community had been lost. Still... they can never get it completely. There are things that can't be taught, only lived.”

There's nothing that Zuko can reply to that. No words will ever be enough to restore what has been destroyed and taken away from Aang; as much as that wound appears to be scarred and healed, Zuko can see that there's a well of grief that Aang doesn't let anyone get close to.

Some gaps can never be closed, but others can.

He rises from his desk and crosses the distance between them, kneeling before Aang. They're at the same height now, and Zuko gently presses his forehead against Aang's; after a small moment of hesitation, he places a hand against Aang's cheek. This tentative touch is all he has to offer.

“I wish I didn't have to ask this of you,” Zuko murmurs, eyes closing in surrender, thumb stroking soft skin.

They breathe together like this, slipping into a state of shared equilibrium. It doesn't erase the pain, but it makes it bearable. A thing that they both can carry together.

“I'm the last airbender. I won't disrespect my people by running away. Besides, I'm the Avatar, and my voice carries authority that I'm meant to use exactly for reasons such as these.”

Zuko sighs. Outside of the window, where the sky is beginning to darken, a handful of stars begin to emerge from its expanse. “I want more than anything to see you at peace, and yet I find myself burdening you with heavy choices, over and over.”

“Your choices aren't easy either, Zuko.”

“No, they aren't. But then, I'm honor-bound to rule this nation to the best of my abilities, regardless of my wishful thinking about how easier it should be.”

Aang squeezes one of his shoulders, reassuring him with a simple touch.

I know how it feels. You're not alone.

And Aang does understand, better than anyone else. The feeling of suffocation that comes with the high stakes involved in any misstep, the anxiety that has taken permanent residence under Zuko's ribs ever since his coronation. He never speaks about it, not out loud, and he's glad that he doesn't need to.

Aang puts a hand on the back of Zuko's neck, lightly kneading the lingering tension away.

Why is it that Aang makes it easy to accept a touch so loving and tender? He'd struggled to accept his uncle's hugs and comforting pats, feeling unworthy of his freely given affection.

Aang doesn't owe him anything. And yet here Zuko is, unmoving, his own palm still cupping Aang's tranquil face, fingers tracing absent patterns on it. Thoughts slip away, awash by the simplicity of this moment.

"Be here, Zuko. There's a lot we must do, a lot that's been appointed onto us, but now we have this."

"Thank you," Zuko whispers, and he means it.

The pressure of Aang's hand on Zuko grounds him. They breath as one, and for a moment they are one, a single essence.

“The first time I entered the Avatar state I experienced visions of the world that can't be expressed with words,” Aang says. “I saw the oneness of all things. I saw impermanence, the mutable nature of everything. Going back to being myself, with a body, after that... It took a bit of adjusting. Okay, a lot of adjusting.”

“How did you do it?” How can a person contain all that? is what Zuko wishes to ask, though he doesn't quite dare.

“I don't know. It's an apparent contradiction that I have yet to come to terms with. I have a duty as Avatar Aang that I'm meant to uphold, while having witnessed that, ultimately, I have no separate identity at all.” An exhale, long and deep. “Sometimes it feels meaningless. Why bother, why struggle, when we are all one and the same? But it's what we're here to do, what I am here to do.”

“You're the most selfless person I know.” It tumbles out of Zuko's mouth, unfiltered. Aang is... all that.

At Aang's age, Zuko had only cared about firebending forms and maybe his crush on Mai. He'd still hoped for his father's approval. Then there's Aang, a hero, a survivor, who's seen more than any person would be able to bear; the most profound loss, the glory of victory, and the ultimate detachment from it all.

It's impossible that this larger-than-life being can be so unassuming. That he has love for Zuko, so much that his scarred heart can drown in it.

Never has he felt so cherished, with no strings attached, no familial bonds, no hidden treachery glistening behind constructed gestures.

His chest isn't hollow anymore. It feels full, the fuller it's been in a long time, overflowing him. The naked affection he holds for Aang is humbling, devastating.

Aang has the supreme quality of making Zuko feel like he belongs. They belong together, as strange and different as they might be, as conflicted Zuko might feel about it. It doesn't matter.

When Aang talks about oneness, this is what Zuko can compare it to. Their mingled breaths, Aang's hand on his skin. That time at the Sun Warriors temple, along with now. They have everything. They are everything, and when they're together, Zuko can believe that they can achieve anything, overcome any struggle.

There's no obstacle big enough to stop their combined strength.

Is this what unconditional love is? The complete, utter perfection Zuko feels?

Nothing can mar this. Not when Aang is with him.

“I want to be there for you. I want to do everything in my power to provide reparation, to acknowledge the harm that's been done to your people, to offer my effort to make it right again... but I don't know how. I need you, Aang.” He stares into his eyes, gold meeting gray. “I need you to teach me. To tell me if I'm doing it wrong.”

“Okay,” Aang says, simply. “I'll be your advisor in this.”

“I'm so sorry that I'm asking this of you. I'm sorry that this is yet another burden piled up on top of your other responsibilities.”

Aang sighs. It's not a sad sigh, nor a frustrated sigh. Just... a deep exhale. “Someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

“I wish you didn't have to.”

“Wishing is pointless. We might as well act on what we have.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I still can't accept the things that I suffered through. I haven't forgiven my family for what they've done. My father is rotting in prison, and he deserves it. For what he's done to me, to you, to this nation. The fact that you can be so calm about it... how? How can you be so calm?”

“Forgiving is not forgetting. What has been done has been done, and it's still impressed in my memory and will always be. But punishment serves no one.”

“So he should just... not pay for what he's done? Where's the justice in that?”

“Justice is meaningless. Justice is the illusion of balance, based on false ideas of truth.”

“Aang I don't fucking get it. He's a genocidal maniac. Send help.”

“The pain he's caused can't be mended through punishment. It cannot be solved in any way. We can only acknowledge that pain and make sure that it doesn't happen again. And... I'm glad that you're thinking about this. It warms my heart that you feel this way.”

[vidavalor]

Can we talk about how Sam is as useless at this as Bucky is, really, and it’s massively sweet?

Yeah, I’m writing about Sam because we all love us some brainwashed, century-old assassin endless array of hurt/comfort here but this idea that Sam, because he’s a therapist and not always a crying, nightmare-sweat-drenched mess, is Captain Got It All Together is not truth... because this poor broken-hearted kitten absolutely does not and it makes him so much more of a better-realized, fuller character... 

I’m not trying to wade any ship wars here or any fandom strife over the Bucky slant to fic/sometimes erasure of Sam here... I love both of these characters equally and ship them but my point here is that I think that because Bucky’s trauma is more well-documented and, for lack of a better word, “flashier”, that some people might think Sam looks perfectly well-adjusted. By comparison, he probably is but this other, quieter story happening with Sam is necessary reading here if you’ve been sleeping on the complexities of one Sam Wilson that aren’t the ones the show is focusing on more explicitly relating to his lived experience as a Black man in America. (They’re not completely separate either but not only this part of his life.) What do I mean, exactly? 

Been wondering how these two are falling in love but can mainly just get it from Bucky’s POV because Sam is awesome and Bucky is sad and need love? Not sure what Sam is getting out of his relationship with Bucky? Not totally sure you ship it but leaning that way? Yeah, pull up a seat because this thing I wrote after Ep 5 here (so spoilers through that) is basically an old-school ship manifesto at this point but comes at SamBucky/WinterFalcon from Sam’s side, rather than Bucky’s. (I have nothing *against* Bucky. I just think you’re missing half the goodness of this show and half the surprisingly tender romance of all of this if you are not focusing on Sam as much as Bucky.) If this interests you, then read on, being forewarned that it’s a little long...

So... Sam Wilson is a sweet, kind, warm-hearted, empathetic, drop-dead gorgeous superhero soldier flying military veteran therapist... whom the canon suggests is Bucky Barnes-level obsessed with his dead former partner (in some sense of the word), Riley. You thought it was just Bucky with the angsty past love? Oh no... oh, no no no....

Consider that Sam’s been back in Delacroix twice now in TFATWS and not once has his sister-- who adores him and who knows everyone in town-- suggested that she call up any one of the at least ten decent single people she has to know who live in the area to take her f*cking *dreamboat* of a brother out. Forget the show putting Sam in like twelve pieces of canon and not throwing a single human (not named Bucky) at him and what that implies-- we all know that Sarah wouldn’t care what kind of human her brother was attracted to and yet she and the entire community of Delacroix can’t seem to find this guy a date. He’s sweet and hot and an Avenger but our Sam’s a monk, you guys... More to the point... they don’t even try. They know better than to try anymore... which says a lot.

Going back awhile now, when Sam met Steve, he was still this equally dreamy and he didn’t even have any Avengers-related problems getting in the way of his potential dating life. He had a normal job working for the VA in DC. Yet, he clearly was seeing exactly no one and while I am willing to admit that pretty much any human would drop everything and follow Steve Rogers around the world, it’s clear that Sam wasn’t seeing anyone at the time because his life was able to be dropped in a second and he also had that file with Riley’s photo at the ready, man. At. the. ready... 

He responded to the opportunity to follow Steve with no less need when it came to his own post-trauma-of-war identity as Bucky does. This isn’t to say that Sam is *as* lost as Bucky because it would be hard to out-do the once-brainwashed assassin who has been alive for a hundred years but Sam saw all sorts of hell. He’s a therapist for veterans because he’s had to get beyond *his own* PTSD and he’s really aware of how that is a journey that doesn’t exactly ever end. It gets significantly better and he knows how well it can-- that’s why he can tell Bucky that there is hope of that-- but it is very clear that Sam Wilson is still suffering his own kind of PTSD and his own grief for the death of a guy who likely couldn’t love him the way he needed him to. 

I know we don’t know a ton about exactly what Sam and Riley were but I think there is enough to infer that they probably actually weren’t a couple. For one thing, Sarah never mentions him and even if the show wanted to be vague about things, they could phrase it like “it’s been forever since you brought back someone to the house, haven’t met any of them since Riley” or something. There are ways to infer that they were a thing and the nature of it, if the show wanted to do that but all they have suggested so far is that Sam was in love with Riley. We know he and Riley were friends and worked on the Falcon suit project together but what we are getting out of what they are giving to us is that Sam loved him but it’s not clear that they were even a couple. I’d even say the picture of them that he shows Steve and Natasha is supposed to evoke that they weren’t a couple-- it’s of Sam looking at Riley, smiling like he’s the moon and the stars, while Riley is smiling but just a bit and he’s looking at the camera, not at Sam. 

In other words, remember Miller’s analogies from school? Sam is to Riley as Bucky is to Steve. I just offended every person reading this who thinks that Steve and Bucky weren’t an unrequited thing *ducks* but I feel like we’re supposed to take from what they give us that Sam knows a little something about being mad for a guy who thinks you are his best buddy but doesn’t look at you in a romantic or sexual way and you feel like you’re dying over it. Sam gets Bucky because Sam *is* Bucky when it comes to this. 

If Sam and Riley were just the best of friends, Sam still would have mourned him greatly but it would not necessarily have impacted his love life the way it seems like it might have. I’m not necessarily saying there was no one but this is a man who even when it felt like Steve Rogers-- whom Sam obviously found attractive-- seemed like he was making Sam question whether or not he was coming onto him or just super-nice and making a new fellow veteran friend... even when that was happening, Sam’s response was that he didn’t hate it or anything and he was willing to help Steve with what he needed in this friendly, advice-giving sort of way and maybe they had a thing, who knows, but it was clear that Sam-- a guy who has to be hit on *all the time*-- wasn’t really used to the idea of there being someone in his life. So, he wasn’t letting anyone into his life. He would have had the chance, no doubt. He was choosing not to. Why would you choose not to? If you were grieving the loss of a man you couldn’t get over and you thought that you weren’t ever going to love anyone like that and maybe having someone wasn’t going to happen for you.

Like, imagine Sam’s surprise when The Winter Soldier turns up, nearly kills them all, disappears and they go on the run and he starts hearing Steve’s confessional stories about the guy who was his best friend and in love with him and Steve has literally never said those words aloud because they’re from the *1940s* and he’s felt guilty all this time for hurting him. Steve’s the kind of guy who would feel guilty for not being in love with someone who was in love with him. That’s when Sam, who thought he had more in common with Steve, realizes he’s actually *Bucky Barnes* in this story. He’s the damn Winter Soldier in the Steve-and-Bucky version of him and Riley. 

That is how Bucky evolves from “the kind of guy you have to stop” in Sam’s mind to the guy he’s hanging out with in every fight and snarking over the car seats with. He’s like yeesh, I thought I had a few years of this ungodly pain and that was bad... this poor bastard’s been in love with a Riley who could and probably will live until he’s a hundred and thirty. Sam starts getting into this whole antagonist origin story of The Winter Soldier here because he realizes that one wrong move-- one case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time-- and he could have been captured during the war he was in. He could have been tortured like that, so easily, and he knows what it’s like to be tortured by love in that way. 

Bucky, for his part, when he begins to get his mind back and more fully remember Steve and his past, takes one look at Sam and is thinking like... that poor SOB... oh, look, it’s 21st Century Me. So, you fell for Steve Rogers, huh? Welcome to the club. We meet every Tuesday at two to discuss being the pining best friend in love with a guy who, in all likelihood, is attracted to both of us but unless Tony Stark can shake loose a bit of the freak in The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan, we’re not getting anything but a most earnest and sincere friendship out of this (and if Stark can’t, no one can....)

Like, Bucky’s Steve love is pretty pure. He wants him to be happy. He’s hurt that Steve doesn’t love him the way he loves Steve but he does love him as his best friend as well and wants him to have what he wants out of life. If that’s going back in time to Peggy Carter (who wouldn’t, really?) and leaving him behind then, fine. He wishes he were still here but he’ll deal but he’s going to be keeping an eye out for the other guy left behind-- Steve’s new modern era best friend person. Bucky’s so gone over keeping Steve safe that he can’t even resent Sam’s presence-- he’s thrilled he exists. Someone good to look after Steve when Bucky couldn’t! Sam Wilson is heaven sent and must be protected at all costs! So frequently from some kid with webbed fingers, apparently! 

Sam, meanwhile, is challenged by the dilemma that Bucky appears to think that they’re in the same boat while Sam, who for sure had a little crush on Steve as who doesn’t, has really come to realize that he is far, far more into the tragic one here. He’s so irritated about it. It would be simpler if he just fell for another blond soldier with red, white and blue blood who couldn’t love him. At least he’d just be completely hopeless then but the brainwashed one? The one that thinks he’s horrid but is so good that he can’t even bring himself to be that jealous of Sam when he clearly thinks Sam is sleeping with the guy he’s loved for years? 

Oh, Sam’s gone on that one... 

Bucky’s still a mess then so it’s harmless enough to just pretend he’s not writing himself into touch-starved Bucky fanfic in his own mind here but when Bucky keeps saving him in different fights? When he catches him looking once or twice. When the bickering is really flirting and Sam knows he means it that way, too? When the poor guy just gets his mind back, they all reunite and go to one battle and then the two of them disappear and miss *five years* of their lives? When then, soon after, Steve is gone, too? 

When it begins to feel like *they* are now the story and meant to go through the rest of these things together? I mean, when everyone else is all on about the fate and destiny of it all-- Stark’s big sacrifice being the one way to save everyone, Doctor Strange going on about all the possibilities of the universe on a saving the world level but it so personal to the people Sam and Bucky know, Steve choosing to go back in time because he can and be with the woman he loved and never got to have... 

...standing there in the funerals and aftermaths of all of this together, by virtue of being Steve’s Friends Who Aren’t Really Part of This Gang Exactly... are Sam and Bucky. What are the odds that they are supposed to be the rest of one another’s story? Sam was wondering it. He for sure hadn’t felt like this since Riley... he might not have really ever felt it at all before. 

Can we just admit that while there’s been some guys in the past-- and it could be rephrased as ‘some people’, as while Sam is written to suggest he’s at least into men, he could be into people who don’t identify as men as well-- but there’s not been someone who has been able to love him the way he’s loved them. 

He’s from the South and Black and the show taps into the racism he’s been through as a result. Not obviously in Delacroix, where he feels safe and seen, where people care about him and don’t care that he is not straight, but in other parts. He’s been in the military, where homophobia is still pretty rampant and it’s a culture of a lot of heterosexual machismo. (Hell, the show even has a kind of walking, talking example of a guy everyone knows was the epitome of that kind of culture, even if he’s been broken by that world, too-- John Walker.) It’s not even really clear if Sam is out and, if he is, to whom. He seems to be the kind of person to want to be himself as much as possible and Sarah likely knows because they are close but I’m not so sure that a lot of Sam’s military buddies actually did. He really strikes me as the guy who gets along with everybody and whom everybody loves-- but whom few people actually *know* because he keeps himself (all of himself, not just his sexuality) private from others...

...which is also a hell of a lot like one Bucky Barnes. 

Guaranteed they became such fast friends not just from being sort of left with one another in the aftermath of Steve and their attraction but because Sam was amazed to find that Bucky was actually pretty funny and Sam just kept talking to him because while he has-- or had, anyways, before he ran off with Steve-- a ton of people he’d consider friends, he doesn’t really have anyone he’d consider to be a close friend and hasn’t since Riley. Bucky, just still stunned to be free of mind control and that there was another human being talking to him instead of looking at him as a weapon to program to kill, was eager to listen to and absolutely thrilled when he could find something sarcastic to say to make Sam laugh that surprised laugh and light up. 

These two damaged couple of guys spent most of this show and the months before it just terrified by how much love they were feeling for one another and were very happy to let any conflict they could get in the way of it-- any excuse to claim they weren’t feeling totally seen and run for the hills back into their own trauma.

It’s not just Bucky doing this. He might have been the one not returning the texts at the start, the one who seemed to be withdrawing more, while Sam was texting him still to check in on him but how quickly that began to flip around by Episode 5. 

Suddenly, the brave one is Bucky. It was Sam for the first few episodes-- he was stil trying and so hard, despite not getting what he needed in return and Bucky still sending signals that he wanted him but was happy to still revel in being too damaged and scared to try harder. By Episode 5, though? Bucky’s not only learned to trust himself again, it is proven to be what he was afraid of: not being able to protect and love Sam the way he wanted to and that Sam would leave him. Triggered by the shield as a metaphor for not caring about Bucky, not having a reason to still pursue him, Bucky thought he had successfully pushed Sam away and that Sam would really stop texting because to not do so would be to admit to one another that they wanted to be around one another and this wasn’t just about Steve/Captain America. By Episode 5, Bucky shows up in Delacroix not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but with eyes only for Sam and is every one of Sam’s favorite Bucky Barnes fantasies come to life. 

It’s now Sam flipping out. Would you have expected the Sam of the first two episodes to be a babbling mess in the face of a flirty Bucky stretching and claiming it’s time for him to go get a hotel room? To try to be playing it cool but winding up asking him to stay forever and telling him he likes his tight t-shirts in the middle there? To get so nervous that he suddenly is babbling about six toes and flirting with Sarah, showing how jealous he was of Bucky just... smiling and being this guy Steve had said was under there but that Sam had only had small glimpses of so far? If he was gone for the broken Winter Soldier... he’s wrecked by a single smile from this Bucky. 

This is the same guy who spent the first few episodes confident to a point of near-cockiness, loving flirting with and teasing Bucky, the one that seemed more well-adjusted and in control of himself. Overall, he is but there’s something there when Bucky shows up and White Wolfs Sam into a sputtering mess who is sending him little glances, as if they’ve switched bodies from the first few episodes. It shows *just how much* Sam is comfortable with Bucky and how rare it is for him because he would react differently to Bucky’s more overt flirting of Episode 5 if how he is with Bucky was his default in life. Instead, we see that some of it is posturing-- it’s the Sam equivalent of lifting heavy things and using power tools. His is the humor (what’s a better aphrodisiac than making the Winter Soldier laugh or flirt back or blush?) and the bicker-caring. We even see where it comes from, in a way. Sam is a soldier-- he knows how to help other traumatized soldiers and when we saw him in his VA group session when we met him, we saw him using that kind of machismo world and its language to communicate with the soldiers in the group. The difference for him with them versus him with Bucky is that he’s also flirting with Bucky. The buddy cop thing is intentional-- it’s Sam’s strategy, it’s been Bucky’s choice to respond to it and they’re playacting it as how they talk because it’s been easier than admitting that they are completely gone on another and just want all the soft things. 

Up until recently anyway and now Sam’s reeling from a man he’s fallen in love with showing up and loving him back. Don’t think for a second that Bucky doesn’t know enough by now to know that it’d totally undo Sam but the surprise of it to the audience only really exists if you don’t think Sam and Bucky have anything in common besides their now-gone mutual friend. In reality, they’re endgame. 

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

The Burrow is in color again.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary - The Battle of Hogwarts, only, Fred wasn't alone with Percy. You had been dating Fred for a while now and he wasn't letting you out of his sight during the fight. Do you let him out of yours?

Trigger Warning - Death, angst,

Standing beside your boyfriend and his brother in the great hall once more felt strange. You were standing behind Harry, glaring at the man you once called your professor. While you never liked Snape, you did well in potions and that alone kept you on his more decent side. Now, you hated the man with every fiber of your being.

Your hand was tightly in Fred's, his position slightly in front of yours as Mcgonagall began firing spells at the dark haired man. Once Harry explained what the students were off to look for, you, Fred, and George ran to take a post.

As you ran off, you saw a few first years scrambling in search of guidance. Your hand slipped from Fred's, moving to the group quickly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You guys are all first years, yeah?" you asked, your voice soft. Seeing them all nod, your stomach twisted. Just about all the first years were already at the station, loading onto the train now. "Okay, come on, I'm going to try to get you all to the train. Hold onto each other. Were going to have to apparate. You guys have no idea what that is, but you're going to hate it. It's the only way we can make it." You gripped onto ones arms as the rest tried to hold on.

"Woah, woah, woah. Where are you going" Fred voiced himself as he caught up with you. "They are first years, Fred. They can't be here for this. They need to catch the train." You turned your head away from your boyfriend, back to the kids. "Then we're helping. I'm not letting you do any of this stuff by yourself today." You nodded, George and Fred taking a few first years themselves, as you apparated onto the platform and directed them into the train before heading back to the school before the barriers were up.

"You can't do that love. You can't. Run off like that, leave me without you. I won't be able to live if anything happens." Fred held you close to him, his hands up in your hair. George stood behind him, looking you in your eyes, nodding in agreement.

You sighed, but understood the seriousness in his voice. You felt the same way about Fred - if absolutely anything happened today to him, you were genuinely unsure how you'd be able to continue on.

Seeing as how you hadn't been without Fred sense first year, the last thing you could handle was not having him. You, George, and Fred met on Hogwarts Express, them seeing you sitting in a spare compartment, alone, and absolutely scared out of your wits. You were a confident kid, yeah, but this was the first time you'd ever be away from your family like this, in a world you didn't know existed until two months ago.

They sat in with you quickly, warming up to you within minutes. From that day on, you three were inseparable. When they got into trouble, you got them out of it. While they were the notorious trouble makers, you were the one that kept them both level headed. George wasn't quite as bad as Fred, but he couldn't always control his twin brothers actions. You, on the other hand, simply had to look at Fred the right way, and he was changing the details of his lated prank to fit your expectations of him.

Looking back on it now, you were really stupid to not see how whipped he truly was for you, but now that you knew, you used it to the fullest of your extent, especially when you weren't focused on the war surrounding you.

The two of you had officially gotten together your fifth year, George finally tired of the longing looks you both shared and came up with his own task of getting the two of you together. It took him a lot longer than he cares to admit, but finally the two of you were locked in a broom cupboard, having downed a bit of pumpkin juice with George's brewed Veratiserium. You and Fred were spilling the truth of your feelings for each other faster than you drank the juice itself. Which lead to your own seven minutes of heaven that lasted a bit longer than seven minutes, thanks to the locked door.

Now, the two of you stood together, prepared to fight for each other and your entire families, against a man you had feared the last 9 years of your life. You took a step back, leaning against the wall behind you as you gave the twins a few moments together.

"You okay Freddie?" Your eyes watered with the risk that lied ahead of all of you, your body attempting to warn you of just exactly what was due to happen to the three of you in just a moments time. But, instead, you focused on the deep voice of the love of your life before you, smiling softly as he spoke. "Yeah." The one word filling your head, a tear falling from it's home in your eye to slip down your cheek.

"Me too."

You moved to stand between the two twins, your hands grasping both of theirs. While you dated Fred, George was still your absolute best friend. The three of you having spent more time together than you ever have apart. Your heart was owned by both of the twins next to you, but in two very different ways. Your love of Fred filling up your entire being, leaving you breathless and full of oxygen at the same time. Your soul fuller than it ever thought it could be now that he was the one that held you at night. But your love for George filled up your brain, leaving you absolutely excited for the moments that stayed there. For each moment you had with Fred, you also had with George. He was your family, your brother, and you loved him just as such. The three of you created a bond no one in the world could break.

Fred's arm wrapped around your shoulders, his face moving to press a kiss into your temple. "Well, boys, I think it's finally time for me to get behind your crazy plans and put all that prank knowledge to its use." They chuckled, smiling down at you. "After all this time, we knew you were paying attention"

The three of you fought together for as long as you could, but you somehow separated from George and instead, met with Percy. You hoped with all of your being that George stayed safe, along with every one of the Weasley's.

You stayed with Fred and Percy, listening to them talk about simple things. It wasn't until you heard Fred laugh and the rumble of a wall that your heard fell. Moving to shoot your own spell at the wall, you held it up until your energy left you, hoping it gave someone enough time to save the love of your life. You had seemed to step forward as you cast your spell, for the moment it broke, you felt the weight of the stone upon your own body. Your eyes closed as you felt the breath you had in your lungs leave you, the ringing in your ears fill up your pounding head, and the cry of the pain just barely leaving your mouth. You looked to your left the best you could, seeing a head of red before your body gave out.

You weren't sure what death was like, if this was it, but it wasn't what you expected. You expected yourself to be standing infront of a gate or something, filled with a freeness you had never experienced before. You anticipated seeing all the family members you had gone so long without, standing before you as you felt your heart swell as you saw their faces after the time you lost with them. You expected to get some kind of answer as to why the world turned the way it did just as you were growing up. Why you found yourself worrying about unforgivable curses instead of your next date with Fred.

Instead, you saw white.

You didn't comprehend where exactly you were, not until your eyes took you into the crisp kitchen, feeling a sense of familiarity as you took on the burrow as clean as what it was. It was strange to see it this way, without the dishes cleaning themselves up, without the wind blowing through the open window, without the noises that came with being at the Burrow. You felt calm, but not nearly as calm as you would in the normal home.

"Y/n." You looked up to see a woman you had never met before, standing beside a man who looked exactly like Harry. The only difference was, Harry's beautiful eyes were the same as the woman standing before you. "You're, you're Lily Potter." Your voice sounded strange, not quite like your own. "And you're James. I know because Harry keeps that picture of you guys, even when he comes to the Burrow. You're his parents." Your words flew from your mouth, before your eyes closed. "Does this mean I'm dead?" Your voice was smaller than before, the pain filling it.

"Not exactly. That's up to you." James walked closer to you, showing you around the Burrow. "You can choose to let go, I'm assuming you can walk up the stairs and be met with exactly what you expected death to be like, but you don't have to." Lily smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your head.

"Is Fred dead?" You whispered, looking at her.

"I don't know, honey. I'm so sorry." She took you in her arms, holding you to her chest. "I can't, I can't go back if he's not there, Mrs. Potter." Your tears fell once more, the whole in your heart already growing. "I can't live without him." Your sob filled the quiet air, your tears almost evaporating before they hit her skin. "I know honey, but you won't know unless you go back."

You looked at her, your eyes still full of the fears that filled you, only in the form of water. "I'm so scared." You whispered, looking at James. "It's okay to be scared honey, it really is." she cupped your cheeks, smiling softly. "But fear shows you you're alive." Lily's lips touched your forehead softly, smiling. "You're more than welcome to sit and think, the choice is yours." They both smiled at you, before vanishing. You weren't sure where they went, but you hoped it was as far away from Harry as they could. The last thing you wanted was for Harry to meet his parents through death do young.

You sat on the couch, thinking of the times you fell asleep on Fred's chest, threw pieces of chocolate at George and Ron, talked on and on with Charlie about the dragons he saw daily, read a book with Bill sitting across from you, or listened to Ginny and the boys groan as Percy went on and on about his prestigious job.

Your heard was full of Fred and George, yes, but it was also full of every single Weasley you came in contact with. They filled your heart, just as much as your twins did.

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath and letting go, unsure of how this was supposed to work. You felt confused as you tried to open your eyes, but was met with a force holding you back. You couldn't open them to find yourself in the crisp, white Burrow, but you also couldn't open them to find yourself back home.

You fought with your body for what felt like years, feeling like you couldn't command it to do the simple action that you completed from the day you were born. That was, until, you heard the sob from above you and the voice of Molly. "It's okay, she had to be okay."

You felt your heart squeeze and the pain rush to your head like you couldn't imagine before your eyes finally opened, seeing the people staring down at you. You first made eye contact with the woman you heard, her own sobs falling from your mouth quickly. "Get him, get him!" You couldn't quite hear her, but saw her mouth forming the words. Your ears screaming with the ringing you heard before.

Your eyes widened with tears as Fred's face filled your view, his cheeks blotchy and nose red from crying. George's face came into view next to his, his just as bad as Fred's. "I thought you died! We thought you died!" He said, his voice mumbled with the ringing in full effect. Your hand moved to tough your ears, hoping it would stop the annoying sound.

"It won't stop." You whispered, pulling at your ears. Ginny appeared with Madam Pomfrey, the woman dropping a simple potion into both ears, the ringing silencing after a few moments. "Freddie, Georgie." You cried, pulling them into you. "I - I saw red hair. I saw it. I thought you-" your sob filled the air as your eyes squeezed close.

"Well, something did happen." Ron said, pointing to the bed beside you. You turned your head to meet the face of Percy, another sob leaving you. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." you cried, looking at Molly. "I tried to stop the wall, I tried so hard. I just couldn't keep it long enough." She pulled you into her arms, her own tears falling. This time, you saw your cries hit her skin, causing you to cry more. You weren't dead, you were alive.

"It's okay, it's okay." She whispered, holding you tight.

You're unsure how it all happened, but the next time you woke, you were in the burrow, but it's color was showing, the notices of each Weasley bouncing off the walls, and the soft breeze filling your senses. You were laying on the couch, the same one you found yourself sitting on after speaking to James and Lily. You glanced to the side to see Fred asleep on the floor next to you, George on the couch across from you.

You smiled softly, the pain still vibrating through your body as you smiled, kissing the knuckles of Fred's hand. You lived. He lived. It's okay.

The Burrow was in color again.