#and every kid feels something like that sometime but it's much easier to dispel if the parents haven't paid for a sibling to be killed

[marzipancloud]

In regards to the list going around about having pro-choice vs pro-life parents,

I think it's a cope for pro-choice people to say they know they're wanted.

A child of pro-lifers knows they're wanted unconditionally. A child of pro-choicers knows their existence is/was conditional.

My parents wanted me regardless of:

Cost

My ability or lack thereof

My health or risks to it

My sex

My birth's impact on their jobs, lives, whatever

This fills me with confidence that my parents will choose me no matter what happens in my life. They won't decide I'm too costly or interfering with their careers or too disabled.

Can you imagine being the younger sibling of someone your mom aborted for being disabled and then becoming disabled yourself? Your mom aborted because she didn't have money back then and then goes through an economic crisis when you're young? She aborted to keep the bio-dad happy and now she has a new bf who doesn't like you? So on.

And yeah, your mom would say "it's different. I chose you", but we also know it's not "you" she chose, it was the favorable circumstances you happened to be conceived in 🤷‍♀️

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?

[nonagesimus]

abominable (Sam/Paul ~1300 words)

(AO3 Link)

For all that Sam prayed, he didn’t like churches when they were filled with people.

He and Dean had stayed with Pastor Jim enough growing up that he’d spent a lot of time in church but a relatively small proportion when Mass was in service. Mostly when there were only a few people around, maybe praying in the pews, maybe lighting a candle. When it was quiet, and easy, and conversations had to be kept soft. Dean hated it, but Pastor Jim didn’t mind answering Sam’s questions, whether they were about monsters, the bible, or his homework, just as long as they didn’t interrupt the parishioners.

There was another priest at the church too, who Sam didn’t talk to much. Didn’t even know if the man knew about the true monsters in the world. He knew that his least favourite thing was Mass when the other man preached. They didn’t stay every time, if Jim wasn’t running the service sometimes he’d take them somewhere else, but when they did. Sat on hard wooden pews, unable to twist himself to sit comfortably, listening to a tirade against sinners.

Sam was thirteen and being bowled over by Bryce Turner during PE had set his heart pounding for reasons completely unrelated to the air being knocked out of him.

Three weeks later he was back in Minnesota listening to this absolute asshole quote Leviticus and- After, Jim seemed to realise something was off. He let Sam hole up in his office until the church was mostly empty again, the congregation finished with their conversations.

“Do you think it’s all true?” Sam asked. “God needs you to follow all those rules?” He couldn’t bring himself to specify.

The way Jim was looking at Sam made him think he might’ve guessed. “I think it’s doctrine,” he said. “And some people find doctrine helpful, but it was written by men. So it has all the same failures as men do.”

Sam let out a long, shaky breath. “Ok,” he said.

Gently, Jim said, “Is there a reason you’re asking?”

“No,” Sam said. Then, quieter, “I just worry. That there’s something wrong with me and-”

“Hey,” Jim says, gripping his shoulder, “Sam. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re the way God made you.”

Sam’s breath got shakier. Jim pulled him into a hug. Sam stayed there for a long time.

And it helped, that conversation. Became a touchstone. After, Jim always had something else to do on Sundays when the other priest was the one delivering the sermon. It wasn’t perfect. There was still plenty to give him that feeling like his skin was the wrong size. Like there was something fundamentally bad. Not just in church, plenty of other places too. But he breathed deep, thought about what Jim had told him. Kept moving. He tried, at Stanford. Plenty of places of worship around, but Sam never learned to like the services better.

Anyway. Turned out he’d had demon blood flowing through him ever since he was six months old, so maybe it wasn’t just the queer thing making him feel weird in churches.

By the time they were back in Blue Earth, Minnesota Sam was sure he had bigger sins to worry about. And it wasn’t like Pastor Jim was still around to comfort him.

“A wedding?” he asked, on edge from the fight, from dying a few scant days before, from kickstarting the damn apocalypse. “Seriously?” It was rude, for sure, luckily the only person who seemed to hear him was one of the soldiers - Paul.

“Yeah,” he said, a hint of a grimace like he agreed with Sam’s attitude. “We’ve had eight so far this week.”

It wasn’t Jim’s church. Still, Sam felt like he could breath easier once he was in the command centre in the basement, and then easier again once he was outside. It was Paul behind the bar - easy rapport with the rest of the soldiers, easy with Sam when he wandered over as well. In a different way.

“That round’s on me,” he said, with a wink and a half cocked smile.

It was warm, and it was recognisable, and it pulled at Sam’s gut. Worse as he turned back to Dean. It wasn’t- he hadn’t been hiding, but it wasn’t like he’d been picking up guys in every town, and they’d never had a conversation. Easy to miss. Idly, he wondered where coming out fell on the list of confessions he’d had to make to Dean over the years. Better or worse than being psychic, or sleeping with Ruby, or the demon blood.

He drank his beer in record time and watched where Paul was serving drinks at the other side of the bar.

It was Dean’s decision when to head back to the motel room, and Paul flipped him a salute when he looked back on his way.

They watched a kid die, and the mother spat the words, “This is your fault.” Dean looked stricken. Sam mentally added a tally to their list. The pluses and minuses. They’d save the town, they would, he had to believe they would, but how many would they lose along the way. Then the beginning of mourning got interrupted by a vision, because apparently angels were that kind of asshole too. A church full of desperate, scared people and they got a litany of rules. Drawing a line in a sand that was just a big circle keeping them penned in.

Sam wanted to tell them being chosen by angels usually wasn’t a good thing, but he held his tongue.

Besides, what was there to say? That he’d met angels, and most of them weren’t worth the effort of trying to impress? That, as far as they could tell, God was taking an extended sabbatical and didn’t care the apocalypse had started? Sam prayed for Dylan’s soul, but he couldn’t tell where faith ended and habit began.

Dean went back to the church, but Sam couldn’t deal with the people anymore so he slid into the tavern.

Paul leaned over the bar to meet him, and they talked, and it was all that warmth and recognition again. When Sam kissed him, Paul’s smile was slow and sweet as dripping honey and all he said was, “I should make sure everything’s cleaned up before curfew.”

Were the angels watching, he thought, as he flaunted the rules they’d laid down? And, sure, this particular set of rules from a soft-spoken midwestern preacher hadn’t said anything specific about ‘perverts’ but Sam had heard enough sermons in enough churches to read between the lines. Even if it mattered, it was far from the only thing damning him, and he won’t give this up, the warmth, the burn, Paul’s hand curled in his shirt as he tugged him behind the bar.

Dean asked where he’d been and he said, “Drinking,” with the taste of Paul still on his tongue.

Anyway, it wasn’t God, it wasn’t angels, it was just more demons, and it should have been obvious from the get go. Castiel was sitting beside him on the couch, still smelling strongly of whiskey, calling Sam an abomination like it was obvious, because it was. Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam like he was waiting for him to protest.

What could he say? The knees of his jeans were still damp because Paul had just finished mopping the floors when Sam sucked him off.

He still had demon blood in him.

He still dreamed about the devil.

Sitting sides pressed together on the bar floor, arms slung over each other - laughing and warm in the knowledge that there were still things that were good. They didn’t last forever, they didn’t even last long, but they were bright enough to dispel the darkness. Paul had turned his head and pressed his lips to the point of Sam’s jaw, then again an inch in, worked his way along to his mouth and kissed him properly.

It did not feel like sin. It did not feel like an act of rebellion. It felt like an act of reverence.

It felt divine.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together Ch 2

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/53599858#workskin

Chapter Summary:

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

“They are…” a prolonged beat as Sky finds the words he is looking for, “a blessing. At least, that’s what we were told since we were children. It was said that the goddess Hylia created the Loftwings to protect us, to make our lives in the sky easier. Happier.”

Or: A series of fics focused on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

One second, Four is standing beside the others in one of the vibrant forest regions of Sky’s Hyrule. And in the next second, he is not.

The ground falls out from underneath Four’s feet, and yet, he doesn't fall. Gravity is not working properly. He does not fall, and yet he does not stand nor float nor fly either.

Some part of him would be more interested in this if not for the fact that he felt like death this is terrible Holy Hylia we promised we wouldn't throw up again.

He is being pulled and pushed and squeezed and battered, a sword pulled from the flames and beaten into the correct position. But there is no correct position. Not yet. Instead, the force continues to slam and push and prod, throwing him in all directions and yet ultimately gaining nothing from the effort. A net zero.

A dizziness pulses in his skull, making his eyes go half lidded at the pain, but something inside forces his eyes to stay open because we closed them last time we need to see what is happening, No we don’t No we don’t No we don’t .

Curiosity over this, unfortunately, repeated occurrence wins out, and his eyes remain stubbornly open, despite the increased dizziness it brings.

The green of the forest has melted away into a miasma of purple and blacks, fractals of light and other colors blooming and withering faster than Four can make sense of them. He thinks he sees flashes of locations; a beach, an island, lava, ice, stone, castles.

His eyes slam shut.

Different worlds Who cares Where are we When will this stop?

His brain tells him that he is turning circles and flying through summersaults, but his body remains still, the movement and momentum somehow separate from his skin and bones. His stomach is in his feet and in his throat at the same time and his heart has somehow become his entire body, raw and pounding.

He isn't screaming, but somehow there is no more air in his lungs. He can feel himself choking and coughing but there is no sound and he just needs to breathe in–really it's not that hard– but he can't do it .

Just breath! In for four! Haha, real funny. Shut up. Guys!

There is something solid beneath their feet. Ground. They hadn't even realized. Their eyes are still sealed shut as their knees give out beneath them.

“Everyone okay?” Older voice. Male. Time.

Can’t focus on that, focus on us. Shut up! We need to listen Where are we Concentrate

Their body curls up.

Different minds begin to sort through their sensations.

There are too many sensations.

They can feel gravel beneath their body, small rocks poking uncomfortably at their ribs. There is dirt on their face, thick, dusty, and flakey. Wherever they have landed, it smells like grass and moss and wet stones. It is cold here. The air is stagnant, dead.

Sounds echo around them. A cave? Stone on stone. Cloth on cloth. Groans of other voices. And a faint, but incessant whirring.

Focus, focus on what we share

“Everyone sound off.”

They throw hands over their ears. Voices. Voices to the right and left. Older younger higher lower. Inside voices, outside voices. Too many voices for them. Need less voices.

That’s it! What do we all need?  

Quite!  

We need to be we need to be we need to be…

we are...

“Four? Did you say something?”

Right.

Four forces his body to relax. His spine releases its rigid curve. Tight muscles unlock. The smallest hero lets himself sink into the dirt on the floor for a moment, reveling in the singularity of the experience. Even as more rocks poke into his ribs. And more dirt gets on his face.

Ow. Gross. Okay, enough of that.

“Four?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Four says, closing his eyes and shaking his head for a second, a pantomime of clearing his thoughts. Oh, if only. What a joke.

He looks up to see concern flash in Hyrule’s hazel eyes. The shorter boy offers a lopsided smile to his brunette friend, hoping to dispel any concern as he takes the traveling hero’s proffered hand up.

Once standing, he swipes his hands firmly down first the front and then the back of his tunic. Dust sputters off him in small clouds. “I guess I’m still not used to this whole, ‘falling through time and space’ thing.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir,” Hyrule says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “At least you landed on your feet before falling over this time. I went face first into that moss pile over. I think I swallowed some on accident.” The other boy opens his mouth and bares his teeth at Four. “Do I have anymore stuck in my teeth?”

Four dons a serious expression, his lip quivering with the effort to keep a straight face as Hyrule pokes a tongue over his canines, checking for any offending foliage.

“Oh, no more than usual, I suppose, “ Four says, somehow able to keep his voice calm and conversational despite the laughter threatening to bubble up from his lungs.

“Hey!” Hyrule says, words coming out an octave higher with mock indignation as he gives Four’s shoulder a push. The two go back and forth pushing for a second, laughs bouncing between the two of them.

A warmth, like entering the heat of the forge on a cold winter’s day, spreads from Four’s chest to his face, spurring on his giggles. Oh . A part of him– warm and glowing red like the hearth–that part of him had missed this kind of easy friendship.

They eventually pull themselves together long enough for Four to actually check out their surroundings.

Well, at least they won't have to wonder who’s Hyrule they’re in for very long.

Glowing aquamarine in the center of the room stands one of Wild’s shrines, it’s luminescence painting the entire area in a flickering blue, like the sun shining down through a layer of ocean water.

They seem to be in a very tall room of sorts. In front of him, near the moss pile Hyrule had fallen into, is part of a wall meant to separate their room from others. The topmost part  of it has crumbled away from the ceiling, leaving massive stones laying in fallen heaps on the ground and exposing more rooms beyond the one they seem to be occupying.

Four vagley notes that all the others seem to have recovered much faster than him. He wonders how long he had been curled on the floor mumbling to himself. He hopes, for his sake, it wasn't long.

Near the only way in or out of the room– a lone, stone arch way– Time, Wild, Warriors, and Twilight stand, heads bowed low in quite discussion. Wild is shaking his head emphatically as Warriors peaks his head around one side of the archway.

Several beams of red light flash onto the hero’s face and body before Wild and Twilight grab the scarfed hero’s shoulders and forcefully pull him back. The four resume speaking, Wild pulling out his Sheikah Slate and pointing at it as he explains something.

To the left of them, Legend and Wind sit together talking. Or, if Four is going to be more accurate, Legend is going through his bag, filing through its contents while Wind chats away at him, either unaffected or in spite of Legend’s glares and lack of response.

Hyrule seems to follow Four’s eyes and sighs at the sight of his predecessor’s hands becoming more rough a he sorts through his belongings, a sure sign of the pink haired hero’s quickly thinning patience.

“I’ll go over and save him,” Hyrule says, already stepping toward the duo.

“A true hero of courage,” Four calls to the brunet’s retreating back, which is met with a blank look that has Four snorting.

He knows Hyrule will be fine. Legend has a soft spot for the kid, even if he tries desperately to hide it behind heaps of sass and emotionally stunted, backhanded compliments.

Like someone else I know … Drifts through his open mind, cool as the stones around him.

Watch it.  Fires back another, a rolling wave cascading onto a beach.

Get a room . Commanding, but with a fondness softening the edges of the words.

His thoughts swirl to a stop. Quite again. For now.

Four belatedly realizes that he had been mouthing along to the words and forces himself to stop. The smithy takes what he hopes is a casual glance around. No one seems to have been paying attention to him.

Good.

He heaves a sigh.  It was difficult to break the habit of talking to himself. When he was alone, he would either separate–letting the parts of himself become the individuals they sometimes craved to be– or let the words of the others flow freely from his lips, a running commentary that both comforted and amused him.

Having to keep all of, well, him to himself was a full time job. However, it was one that Four would gladly bear if it granted him the companionship he hadn't even known he was missing.

The short hero turns away from the newly formed group, resuming his examination of what he is beginning to think is a temple– and not one with a stupid amount of needless traps and puzzles and with a giant monster at the end of it– but an actual place of worship.

Four runs a hand down one of the nearest pillars. It is craggly, the gritty nature only broken up by soft, spongy patches of moss.

Though most of Wild’s Hyrule is demolished ruins, there is something about this place that makes the short hero think this temple is older than the other structural remains they had found.

Parts of it seem reinforced with bricks where the stones have fallen away, an attempt to restore what had been lost. Not only moss but vines and roots cling to every surface and burst out from between stone. If he squints real hard at the ceiling, Four can see cracks in the rock where water has leaked through, small stalactites naturally honing themselves into stone daggers above their heads.

It’s the kind of natural reclamation that takes more than a hundred years. Maybe more than a thousand.

Much older, his mind lands on as he idly brushes his fingertips across the carved stone. An ancient temple, crumbling long before the land it sat in ever felt a touch of The Calamity as Wild called it.

Old. Older than the decay around it. A fossil: hard stone, weather beaten and hidden yet undeniably present.

Four can’t help but feel awed.

Looking up a bit higher than he can reach, the smith can see some kind of image carved into the stone of the pillar he is touching. He thinks he can make out large, circular looking eyes and a sharp, downward V shaped mouth. A beak, perhaps?

He turns around, finding the exact hero he was looking for.

“Hey, Sky, can you…” he trails off as the chosen hero does not turn at his words. “Sky,” he tries again. Yet, the man remains static, back to the small hero and deaf to his voice.

The smithy steps over a fallen rock to stand next to the taller hero, peering up at his face. The normally relaxed Link is staring forward and up, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. Like he’s seen a ghost.

“What are you…” Four begins, following Sky’s eyes.

And then he sees it.

Or rather, her.

“Oh,” he says.

How in the Four Elements did they miss that?

If he didn't know any better –or have Sky standing right next to him for scale– Four might have thought he had accidentally stumbled onto a portal.

But he does have Sky standing next to him and he does know better; there are no portals in Wild’s Hyrule as far as he knows. He’s checked every time they have landed here to no avail.

Regardless, even without being the size of a minish, she is massive.

Standing silent and stalwart in the back of the temple towers the largest statue of the goddess Hylia Four has ever seen. She looms over the back room, the crown of her head almost touching the ceiling. A sort of indentation has been carved out in the wall behind her, a semi-circle of terraced stone creating a halo around her head.

Though clearly touched by time like the rest of the temple, her face remains free of significant erosion; her eyes clearly downturned in thought while her lips pull upward in a gentle smile.

The blue, flickering glow from the shrine catches in the folds of her dress and the ridges of her feathered wings, giving the appearance of movement despite the rigidity of the stone.

Words flood over the banks of his consciousness unbidden.

She’s beautiful Incredible craftsmanship How did they even get her in here The temple was built around it.

The last comment sticks in Four’s mind.

Looking at the statue again, he can’t help but agree. There are no drag marks on her sides that he can observe. Obviously he cannot see her back from here, but moving such a large piece of stone would create a significant change in its shape. If she was dragged here on her back, it would flatten out that part of the statue, but he can see no change in her curvature. She looks perfectly cylindrical.

It’s like she just dropped out of the sky or something

Four turns to Sky intent on asking the older hero what he knows about it, seeing as he seems to have some sort of connection to it based on his reaction, but is interrupted by a sharp whistle from the front of the room.

Sky jolts next to him, coming out of his revere. The two turn to see Wild beckoning them over.

The two heroes stride over, joining the group already gathered near the entrance to the shrine. Four slides into the semicircle next to Hyrule while Sky merely stands behind Wind, able to see over the boy’s head easily.

“Anyone up for a rousing game of ‘Good News, Bad News?’” Legend whispers none to quietly from the other side of Hyrule. The traveling hero shushes him, but Four can see a slight upturn to his lips.

Four could say a lot of things about the veteran hero, but at least the older man helps Hyrule to come out of his shell every once in a while.

Although, Four muses, he may be a bad influence on the traveling hero. They don't need two pessimistic little shits with too much magic on their hands in the group. One is enough.

“So we have good news and bad news,” Warriors says. Four hears Legend snort and watches as Hyrule’s shoulders fight to remain still under his stifled laughs.

See. Bad influence.

“Good news is that we know where we are,” Warriors continues, though he eyes Hyrule then narrows his eyes at Legend as he speaks. Without even having to look, Four is sure that Lgened is shooting the Captain a smug grin. Typical.

“Bad news is that there is almost no way of getting out of here safely,” Warriors finishes.

“So, where are we exactly?” Wind pipes up, head tilted to the left and eyebrows furrowed. “Like, yeah, we’re in Wild’s Hyrule, but what makes here so dangerous?”

Warriors looks back at Wild in question and then waves the long haired hero forward as he steps backward to rejoin the semi-circle of heroes. Wild takes his place, pulling his Sheikah Slate from his belt as he does so. He taps on it for a second before flipping it around for the rest of them to see.

“We are here,” he says, finger tip indicating a small yellow arrow on the screen. The five heroes not already in the know lean in to get a better look. Four can see that their arrow seems to be next to a darker, jagged seam cut into brown of the map. A ravine.

“This place doesn't really have a name,” Wild continues, looking a little sheepish at the lack of concrete information, “but I call it The Forgotten Temple. It is a historical excavation site dug into the side of this canyon. We found 100 years ago while we were searching for the Divine Beasts.”

Clear blue eyes cloud over for a second. Twilight places a hand on the younger hero’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” Wild shakes his head, long hair flying behind him, dispeling whatever images had entered the young hero’s mind. “We are in the back room of the temple. So, the only way out is through the front.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say there is a reason we can't just do that,” Legend says, voice flat with wearied humor.

Wild nods grimly, lips pressed into a thin line. “There are about thirty Decayed Guardians in the next few rooms. And all of the rest of the passageways between rooms have been destroyed so the only way to get out is using a paraglider.”

“Do I even want to know how you got back here to activate the shrine in the first place?” Legend asks, one hand rubbing at his left temple.

Wild’s face absolutely lights up. “Well I took this pot lid an–”

Twilight uses his hold on the younger hero’s shoulder to pull him out of the middle of the group. “Not now, Cub,” he says, shaking his head, exasperation coloring his words. Four gets a feeling Twilight knows the story already and hates the idea of reliving it now or –even worse– Wild giving a demonstration of what happened.

“No, no, let him speak!” Wind calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide as he stares at Wild. “You used a pot lid to do what?”

Time steps forward, silencing the group with a single well placed glare before they have a chance to devolve any further. Part of Four greatly respects the man’s ability to bring together and command a group as rowdy as this one.

But then, another part of him hates being told what to do on principle, so, eh, it evens out.

“We’ve decided that the best course of action is to use Wild’s Sheikah Slate to teleport to Rito Village,” the Old Man says.

The room erupts into groans of disapproval that Four can’t help but agree with. He had once watched Wild use the slate, the ragged teen disappearing into ribbons of dissolving icy-blue light. Just the thought of disassembling one place and reassembling somewhere else makes him feel queasy.

Well, that sounds a little familiar. Maybe if we think about it that way, it's won't be so bad!  Blossoms into his brain, warm and hopeful.

You know for damn sure that's not what it's gonna be like. A hiss.

It doesn't hurt to be optimistic. Harsh wind, a reprimand.

“Maybe we should all shut up and listen to what he has to say before arguing about it.” Stone cold and pointed, like an icicle inches from falling.

Wait...

The groans stop. Several heads turn to Four with wide eyes. The ice from his unintentional words drips down, over his ribs and into his stomach.

Oh shit we just said that out loud Dammit It’s not that bad I’m… sorry I didn't mean…

Time recovers the fastest from the very out of character outburst from the smallest hero and inclines his head slightly to Four. “Thank you.”

“As I was saying,” Time continues, and as the other heroes turn their attention back to their leader Four feels himself unwind. Lucky break. “Rito Village is the closest settlement to this location. Once we all regroup there, we can begin to ask around for information on monster attacks in the area.”

“I can carry up to two people with me when I teleport,” Wild says, picking up where Time left off. He quickly turns around for a second, the tapping and chirping of his Slate the only sound for a moment, before he turns back to the rest of the group, a handful of what appears to be wheat stalks in the teen’s hand. He grins as he holds out the grain. “We’ll pull wheat to see who goes when. Longest first, shortest last.”

They go around the circle, starting from Wild’s left and working their way around. Four doesn't really pay attention to the other’s or how long their stalks are– in fact he pointedly ignored Warriors and Legend’s absolutely asinine comparison of lengths, the children that they are– instead only tuning back in long enough to grab his own.

He pinches the top of the stalk, pulling it from WIld’s hand and...

It’s tiny, only an inch of stem beneath the spike containing the grain, a pitiful looking leaf hanging from the cut off end.

Legend, drawn from his squabble with the scarfed hero for the moment, laughs derisively in Four’s direction.

“Aww,” he says, words dripping with false sugar. “It suits you!”

Hyrule elbows the legendary hero in the side, sending Four an apologetic look. Four simply rolls his eyes in response, not dignifying the comment with a response.

Well, at least not externally.

One of these days, I’m gonna punch that smug prick so hard, the pink comes out of his hair!

Those in pot filled homes should not throw stones.

Right?! He’s barely taller than us!

Aw, come on guys, you know he's just joking. It’s his way of showing affection!

My foot is about to show that pantless dick’s shins some affection!

Four lets the dialogue play out in his head, taking care to school his face into a neutral mask even as some of the funnier comments threaten to make him laugh aloud. Soon the rest of the heroes take their turns, cementing the order.

First to leave would be Time and Wind, followed by Warriors and Legend– and wasn’t that great, their stalks were actually the same length– then Hyrule and Twilight, and last would be Four and Sky.

The first three gather together, Wind linking arms with Wild while Time sets a hand on the Champion’s shoulders.

“See you soon!” Wild says, and with a soft chime, the three disappear into flowing blue ribbons of light.

The six remaining Links glance around, unsure what to do with themselves in the interim between trips. The soft whirring from the Decayed Guardians the next room dominates the area for a moment.

A cough.

“So,” Legend says, going through his bag again. He pulls out a small, square paper envelope with a pair of purple bunny ears painted on the side. “Anyone wanna play cards?”

…

Sky immediately and graciously bows out of the card game, citing the need to take a nap for his absence.

As the others begin debating what game to play, Four watches as the chosen hero walks away, the brunette already pulling on the edges of his beloved sailcloth, wrapping himself up even before he sits. The man treads slowly, almost reverently, up the altar, before sitting down and leaning back against the statue, head thrown back against the stone in preparation for sleep.

He seems sad.  

However, before he can do anything else, the others settle on BS, a game that appears to transcend the bounds of Time and Space because apparently everyone loves lying to their loved ones, and Four is quickly pulled in.

The game only lasts five rounds– five rounds of Warriors accusing Legend of cheating, Legend not actually cheating because it’s freaking BS, Hyrule’s terrible poker face, Twilight’s incredible poker face, and Four counting cards because he plays to win. Five very entertaining and loud rounds of BS before Wild returns to pick up the next batch of heroes.

And then there were four. Well, three if you didn't count the sleeping Sky.

With their game taken away, Twilight, Hyrule, and Four sit themselves on the edge of the shrine and start to chat. Their conversation roams from their home town– or equivalent home area, cave thing for Hyrule– to their favorite activities to do in their down time to their favorite foods.

Twilight is just wrapping up a fascinating tale of the best soup he ever had while in the company of some yetis when the soft whoosh of Wild’s returning form cuts him off.

“Looks like that’s our queue,” Twilight says, offering a hand up to Hyrule, which the other hero takes.

The two quickly approach Wild, but the teen waves them away for a second, instead striding up to Four with a question in his eyes.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes flicking away from Four’s face for a second before flashing back again. A nervous tick. “Some of the others are getting a bit antsy for dinner. Is it okay if I cook something up really quick and then come grab you two?”

Four raises a hand in a placating motion and offers Wild a small smile.

“That sounds fine to me. I know how some of them can get when hungry. All things considered, this is a pretty interesting to be stuck in. Besides,” and here the shorter hero throws a thumb over one shoulder toward the statue, “I don't really have the heart to wake him up just yet.”

A relieved smile flits onto Wilds face. “Okay, cool.”

“You sure you’re okay with waiting that long by yourself?” Hyrule asks, earnest concern in his words. “I can stay and you can go if you want. I’m used to the quiet.”

Four shakes his head, a wry grin on his face. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m good at keeping myself entertained.”

Hardy hardy har.  

Oh come on, that was a good one!  

“Well, if you're sure…” Hyrule trails off. Four nods one more time and sends the group off with a wave. Hyrule waves back, until he too dissolves into nothing but streams of light evaporating into the night air.

As the light from the transportation fades, Four takes in a deep breath, holds it and then lets it hiss from between his teeth. He relaxes his mind and tension he didn't know he was holding bleeds from his shoulders.

And then there were five.

“Now what do we do?” his voice asks, a slight grumble to the words.

“I say we get a better look at that statue,” he replies to the open air.

“Seconded.” “Me too!” spills from his lips and Four nods. Good. They’re all in agreement.

He meanders around the shrine, running a hand over the gnarled stone, the smoothness of the glowing glass.

It truly is a marvel, he thinks. Last time they were here, Wild had showed them the almost mystical qualities to the Sheikah weaponry that the Champion used during his travels. Apparently, the way to make such weapons had been all but lost to the Sheikah people during their period of persecution. However, Wild had told Four that one researcher was able to find and repair an ancient Sheika blacksmith automaton capable of recreating the weapons. So far, none of their travels to Wild’s Hyrule had ever spat them out close enough to the research facility for Four to warrant a visit, but he held out hope that they would be able to go at some point.

The small hero comes to a stop in front of the altar, head tipped back to stare up at the statue.

“It really is beautiful,” he breaths. “I wonder how old it is?”

“Ancient. Older than the concept of Hyrule itself.”

Four feels something inside him tense up once more. His head reels as he pulls himself  together, dizziness blooming behind his eyes. His sight fills with black and white spots, the back of his skull pounding and heavy.

Despite his clouded vision, the smithy’s gaze flashes toward the voice and finds Sky. He is evidently not asleep, and based on the exhausted look on the older man’s face, he never was.

He is leaned back against the statue, head lolling back as he stares unseeing at the stone that looms over him. His sailcloth is pulled over his shoulders like a shield, with the corners of the fabric held in clenched fists crossed over his chest.

“What?” Four asks, confusion and pain melting together into a disoriented tone.

“It’s from my time” Sky reiterates. “It was from Skyloft.”

Four nods his head slowly, letting the information sink in.

Sky had told their group about his home among the clouds; an idyllic floating society above the world that had been ravaged by the war between the goddess and a demon known as Demise. From Sky’s description, the place seemed wonderful; a location that Four would love to visit if given the chance.

A small, fond smile pulled at Sky’s lips.

“It used to be sort of the centerpiece of the city. Everything happened there.”

“It must have been magnificent,” Four assures the older man, unsure what else to say.

Silence stretches out between them, thick and awkward.

Four is at a bit of a loss. The shorter hero had never seen Sky look like this. The man was usually bright and sunny, offering kind words or constructive ideas to any interaction he was a part of. He had an easy smile and was even easier to talk to, regardless of what the topic of conversation was.

Sure, the brunette often had his head in the clouds – you’re still not funny– but never had Four seen him so out of it.

The chosen hero looks… lost. His face seems to be unable to settle on an expression, turning from nostalgic, to worried, to down right sad and then right back again. If Four wasn't the way he was, he would probably be impressed with how many emotions Sky was jumping through so quickly.

“Had you ever heard of Loftwings before I told you about them?” Sky asks, eyes suddenly locked onto Four. There is something in the look, something intense. Something desperate.

Four shakes his head.

Sky sighs and leans his head back against the statue once more. His eyes trace the stone above him in small circles and figure eights, tracking something that Four can’t see.

This isn’t going well.  Forms in Four’s mind, concern dripping from the thought.

Really? What gave it away? Snappish, but with an undercurrent of emotion.  

What a helpful addition. Truly, where would we be without your input? Sarcastic but frustrated. No answers.

You guys are terrible at this. Fond.

Four gently lowers himself next to the sitting hero, setting his back against the statue and stretching his legs out in front of him. He brushes his shoulder against Sky’s own and when the other doesn't pull away, leans fully into his side.

It isn't exactly comfortable–the stone is harsh against his spine– but at least it’s warm.

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

“They are…” a prolonged beat as Sky finds the words he is looking for, “a blessing. At least, that’s what we were told since we were children. It was said that the goddess Hylia created the Loftwings to protect us, to make our lives in the sky easier. Happier.”

Four nods his head against Sky’s shoulder so the older hero knows he is listening.

“Everyone had one. Every few years on a special day called Meeting Day, the kids who had come of age would gather under the statue– this statue– to greet their partner. Their other half.”

A chuckle pushes its way past Sky’s lips.

“I was late for my Meeting Day. I overslept on accident.”

“You oversleeping? I never would have guessed,” Four snickers, nudging Sky lightly, eliciting another laugh from the older hero.

“Not much has changed I guess,” Sky admits. “Zelda though, Zelda was so mad at me. Told me I wasn't taking my life seriously enough. It was brutal.”

“I think she was mad because it was her Meeting Day too,” he continues. “She wanted everything to go perfectly.”

“But it was a complete mess,” he says, nostalgia apparent in his words. “There were actually three of us having our Meeting Day that year. Me, Zelda, and another guy. He didn't even wait for the ceremony to finish before he was whistling for his bird. Dumb thing nearly knocked Headmaster Gaepora off the statue.”

Four watches as Sky shakes his head in fondness at the memory and wonders if the other boy and Sky eventually became friends, even with their rocky start. He imagines they did. Who could hate someone like Sky, afterall?

The older hero sobers a bit then, smile falling from his face.

“And then it was our turn to go. We whistled at the exact same time. Zelda wanted us to take our first flight together. We had been talking about it for years.”

He sighs. “Her Loftwing landed before we were even finished whistling.”

“And yours?” Four asks before he can stop himself, a pit in his stomach already telling him where this story was going.

Sky smiles ruefully, glancing down at Four’s face before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

“I whistled over and over again, but nothing happened. Eventually, they went through with the rest of the ceremony without me.” A breath in. A breath out. “I had to watch Zelda fly for the first time with my feet stuck firmly on the ground.”

The older hero sighs. “I don't blame them. No one knew what to do with me. No one had ever failed to call a Loftwing before.”

Four stares at Sky’s face, watching as his expression grows more grim, his frown and the furrow between his eyebrows growing more pronounced.

“I kept trying for hours. By Noon, most people had left. Better things to do, I guess,” he laughs without humor. “By sunset, Zelda was forced to go home by her father. But I stayed there. I stayed beneath the statue, whistling and whistling and whistling all night.”

“I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I woke up,” Sky says, finally regaining some light, “there he was. I thought it was the sunrise playing a trick on me, but he was actually there. A real Crimson Loftwing.”

A smile, warm as the sun. “He was mine and I was his.”

And then suddenly, the sun is gone. This is it, Four thinks as whirlwind of dark, heavy emotion blots out the sky that is the older heroes eyes. The storm that had been brewing since the other hero had laid eyes on the stone edifice.  

“But they’re all gone now.” Sky says, voice empty.  He gently pushes Four away from his side and then turns to more fully look at the smaller hero. The smith is suddenly hit with how cold it is here without Sky’s warmth.

The brunette stares intently at Four, cornflower blue eyes locked onto whatever muddled, chaotic shade has overtaken his own. Four is trapped under the other’s intent gaze, a leaf in a tornado, unable to escape.

Clouds of pain and uncertainty darken the normally bright blue of the chosen hero’s eyes. Something lurks behind those clouds, Four thinks, like the presence of lightning unknown until the moment it strikes the ground.

Then, thunderous understanding rings through Four’s bones, rattling through his body, shaking him down to the fault lines of his mind.

Swarming in Sky’s eyes is a need to be seen. A need to be heard. A need to be recognised.

“They’re gone and no one’s ever heard of them. Or the Mogmas or Levias or Ghirahim or Skyloft or Demise,” he continues, words picking up speed as he does. There is something frantic about the list. A desire to have it all down, catalogued and out in the open air for all to hear. An auditory library of things lost to time.

“My whole life: everything I was, am, or will be is dust by the time you come along.”

The chosen hero suddenly deflates, leaving behind a lost looking Sky. He falls back against the statue.

Above them, the goddess does not move. Her eyes remain gentle, and her smile stays set in unmoving stone.  

“Is it selfish of me to be afraid of being forgotten? Like I was never there to begin with?” Sky asks. “Is it selfish to wonder if this is it? If this all I leave behind?” he question, voice going softer and softer.

“Just a sword, a statue, and a curse?”

“No.”

Sky sits up at the tone of Four’s voice. Four pushes himself to his feet, fists clenched at his sides and for the first time in a long time, he feels tall as he stares down at Sky’s bewildered face

“No, I don't think it's selfish,” Four says, and he means it. By Hylia he means it, his chest brimming with some thing hot and cold and too much and too little.

Some part of him wants to punch Sky for thinking this way. Another part wants to hug him. All of him wants Sky to understand, to know that he is not alone.  

“What could be scarier,” Four whispers, “than the idea of not existing?”

(he sees four boys: in forest green, ocean blue, flame red, and dusk purple. each one holds a sword above a single pedestal, ready to plunge the blade back in. back where it belongs. but something holds them back, each one barley gripping the pommel as their hands shake.

is this it? everything I did? it was all for this? where will I go? where will they go? where where where where?

am I going to die?

but they need to do it. Vaati had already taken so much from them. they couldn't leave him free. he needs to be sealed.

this is the only way.

together, they drive their blades into the ground and disappear in a flash of light.  

a single boy emerges, tunic green but eyes a rainbow of color.

they hold themselves.

no, he holds himself.

no, they hold themselves. four times the amount of tears drip down one face and they smile and scream and laugh and sob)

“It’s not selfish to want to know that you exist somewhere, anywhere, when you're gone,” Four insists, conviction and strength in his words. The pulsing glow of the shrine illuminates his eyes in flashes of multicolored, unnatural fire.

“So no,” Four continues, “I don't think it's selfish. But I also think it's not something you have to worry about.”

The smallest hero reaches a hand down to Sky. The other glances back and forth between Four’s face and the offered hand before tentatively taking it. The smith, strong despite his size, pulls and the Chosen hero follows, stumbling to his feet.

“Look around!” Four says, letting go of Sky’s hand to splay his arms wide. The smith steps away from the alter, spinning on a heel as he does, wide arms indicating everything around them.

“Here we are, goddesses know when, in a kingdom you helped to create. A kingdom that survives through demon kings, and wind mages, and floods, and calamities. It survives.”

Four throws a gestures over Sky’s shoulder, indicating the green and purple pommel peeking out from behind his back. “You left a sword that has protected so many of us. A beautiful sword that cuts through darkness like a torch in the night.”

The smallest hero places a hand on his chest, feeling the familiar stitching marking the border between his blue and green tunic beneath his calloused palm.

“And most of all, you left us the spirit that unites us together. Without it, I never would have met any of you. I never would have found so many new friends.” Four leaves the ‘New brothers’ unsaid.

“Nothing is ever forgotten,” Four says as he points at the pillar he was examining earlier.

Circular eyes. V-shaped beak. Splayed feathers. Not just a bird, but a Loftwing, flying eternal in stone.

“Maybe just lost for a bit, but not forgotten. Never.”

Four turns back to the other hero. He can see a smile on Sky’s face, the silver lining finally emerging despite the rain that threatens to fall from the older’s eyes.

“And if it means anything,” Four continues as he comes to next to Sky once more, placing a hand on his elbow, “I know of at least eight people who won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.”

Sky nods, taking a second to rub his face– physically wiping away emotions that had been plaguing his mind– before turning his smile back to the smithy.

With one hand he takes the edge of his sail cloth and drapes it across Four’s opposite shoulder and then guides the two of them to be sitting back against the statue once more, now bundled together rather than apart.

Four is grateful for the warmth. He hadn't even noticed until that second that his breath was clouding around his face or that the trembling of his hands might have been from cold rather than sheer emotional force.  

“You always seem to know just what to say,” Sky says as he pulls Four more effectively into his side. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at giving advice?”

Two ‘Yes’s and two ‘No’s collide in his skull.

Four merly smiles.

“I like to think I bring new perspectives to conversations,” he says

Hylia, it would be quicker if you just killed me.

You’re no fun.

“Because no one else has your vantage point on the problem?” Sky asks, cheekily.

Aaaand we’re back to short jokes.

Oh, it’s on, Bird Boy!

Wait, speaking of birds...

“I will let the joke slide just this once if you answer a question I meant to ask earlier. You mentioned specifically that your Loftwing was a Crimson Loftwing. Is that significant in some way?” Four asks.

Without looking up, Four can feel Sky nod from the way his shoulder gently shifts. “That’s because no one had seen a Crimson Loftwing for many, many years.  They were assumed to have gone extinct.”

“So the fact that yous was Crimson would have been very important,” Four cataloges. And then, “What’s his name?”

Its goes silent for a moment.

“Well, uhhhh,” Sky says, floundering for a moment.

His voice drops into a defeated tone. “You have to understand, I was pretty young at the time. Children have their Meeting Day when they turn 8 and–”

“Sky,” Four cuts off the brunette’s rambling, a grin slowly growing on his face. “What did you name your Loftwing?”

The brunette pulls his half of the sailcloth closer, muffling his already mumbled words.

“Hmm? What was that?” Four asks, voice going high at the end of the question, ready to tease thevfirst holder of the Spirit of the Hero into oblivion.

“I named him Apple,” Sky says, the voice of man repentant of his crimes.

It’s like an explosion goes off in Four’s head; all four different parts of him howling with laughter.

“You–” Four cuts himself off to take a breath in, steadying his voice, “You named the last known member of an endangered species Apple?!”

“I was eight!” Sky hisses.

Four absolutely cackles.  

“Oh come on,” Sky groans, “Like you never gave something a stupid name when you were younger?”

And that shuts up Four. Kind of.

He does have us there.

Oh fuck off, Violet.

I didn’t come up with names, Red did!

Four lets his mind turns into a battlefield but ignores it, instead relaying another question about the intricacies of riding Loftwings to Sky, who readily answers.

Pressed up against the other’s side, Four can feel the older hero's voice reverberate around him. He can feel the steady rise and fall of Sky’s chest and the heat radiating off him beneath the makeshift blanket.

Back in his time, Sky is long gone, lost to the ages. But here and now they sit together and wait, the ever shifting blue pulse of the shrine in front of them and the immovable stone of the goddess behind them.

…

The soft hiss and crackle of Sheika teleportation erupts in the silence of the room, the blue flecks coalescing into one frantic looking blonde teenager.

“Four, Sky! I’m so sorry, there was this whole thing with Wind and a weird pear that one of the Rito children ate and–”

“Shush!”

“What? Is something wro– Oh.”

Sky watches as the younger hero turns the corner of the shrine, catching sight of the pair of them.

They must make quite the sight if Wild’s hand twitching toward his Sheikah Slate is any indication.

Curled against his side, Four breaths deeply and evenly, mumbling every so often in his sleep. The smithy had grown quite a little while ago as his questions slowly petering off into silence.

“Sorry,” Wild whispered as he joins them on the altar. Sky isn't sure whether he is apologizing about his tardiness or almost waking up Four.

“It’s fine,” he assures, turning his head down to look at the small hero while trying to move his body as little as possible.

“Sometimes I forget how young he is. He always seems so,” and here Wild cuts off his whisper to smooth his face out into a flat, unimpressed look.

Sky nods forcing down his chuckles at the look.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

They sit in the quiet of the temple for a moment just looking at the small teen.

“We should wake him,” Wild decides. “He’ll want dinner when we get to the village.”

But Sky shakes his head. “We’ll wake him up when we get there. I don't have the heart to do it just yet.”

Slowly, Sky bundles Four more fully in the white cloth and then shifts the teen onto his back and stands. He gives Wild a thumbs up which the long haired teen returns with a shrug and a look that says ‘Your funeral, not mine’ before turning to step off the alter.

And as Wild turns around, Sky catches a glimpse of the shield strapped to the teen’s back. On the blue background, a crimson bird soars, cradling the triforce between outstretched wings.

A smile quirks at the corner of his lips.

Never forgotten, huh?

Well, wouldn't you know.

[petersmparker]

Welcome Home pt 6 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter finally decides to open the letter left to him by Tony Stark.

Word Count: 1844

A/N: This is technically the last part to welcome home, but I’ve written an epilogue that wraps up Peter’s healing arc, relationship with the reader, and etc. Keep an eye out 😉

INTRO PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 EPILOGUE

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is that your back is cold. Peter is no longer holding you. You wonder if he's shifted in his sleep, but when you turn to look at him in the early morning light, you realize that Peter isn't even lying down. He's sitting near your legs, back to you. The sunlight filters through the window better there, forming a halo of light around his head that reflects off of his messy hair. For a brief second, you don't understand what he's doing. When you hear the distinct sound of tearing paper, you very quickly realize that he's opening the letter.

The idea that he's about to read the message from Tony incites fear in you, knowing that Peter may come out much sadder than he was going in. You consider the possibility that it might be better to pretend you're asleep and leave him alone. After all, he hadn't woken you before deciding to open the envelope. However, you don't want to be dishonest, so before he can unfold the letter, you sit up and reach out to tap him and let him know that you're awake. 

Peter turns to look over his shoulder at you. He can clearly sense your concern, but it seems that he has woken up this morning with a bit of a newfound resolution, because he gives you a comforting smile and places a hand on your knee. "It'll be alright," he assures, "I feel okay. This won't be as bad as I'm convincing myself it will be."

"Do you want me to go?" You offer, swinging your other leg off the bed as if to leave.

He thinks for a moment, looking down at the folded sheet of paper in his hand. "I was going to read it alone, at first. But now that it's time to start, I don't think I can unfold it. Is that stupid? I know it's going to be alright, but starting is hard."

"Would you like help?"

"Please."

As he turns back toward the light streaming through the window, you adjust to sit closer to his back. You're seated on your legs partially behind Peter, chin hovering above his shoulder, and from this angle the scratchy writing on the envelope that sits in front of Peter glistens. The letter itself is a bright white in the center of the sun beam, almost like it's glowing. He's holding it very gently.

You reach around him and lift the top fold of the sheet, revealing the first few lines of handwritten text. With a nervous exhale, Peter slides his hand down to undo the bottom fold. "You ready to meet Mr. Stark?" He says, head shifting ever so slightly to side-eye you.

After all this time, you know him well enough to understand that he's attempting to dispel his own nerves just as much as your own. He's so stressed, but you both know that this is a hurdle that must be overcome. You can't do much more to ease the process, but you're compelled to express how much you wish you could. Part of you worries that you may cross a boundary, but most of you is past the point of caring.

With your free hand, you reach up to the other side of his head and pull him the last couple centimeters toward you to press a kiss to the side of his head. "Introduce me to him," you say, letting him go.

Peter nods and turns back to the letter. You follow his gaze, and start to read.

Pete,

If this has made it to you, that means that my death was apparently in the cards for this shindig we're planning. That also means that everything went as planned, at least on my end. Not so much the dying, but the part where you're back. Just to clarify. If that's what was supposed to happen, then don't worry about me having checked out early. I went right on time.

I considered setting up a holographic message for you like I did for Pep and Morgan, but upon further consideration, I figured I'd be leaving you more than enough tech already. That's most of what I've been able to give you in our time together. Thought that something different might be a bit more meaningful. Kinda poetic?

If you think that admitting that negates the extra meaning, we'll agree to disagree. I think it’s nice, regardless.

Listen, kid. I know that if all this time heist nonsense works out and you make it back out the other side without me, you're going to beat yourself up about it. Do me a favor and skip that part. I'm doing all this because I want you to be able to grow up and experience your life and enjoy it. As endearing as it might be for you to mourn me for most of your young life, I think I'd prefer for you to just be happy. And maybe name some tech after me when you get to using those labs. Only the best tech, obviously. It's the little things, Pete.

I'm going to get sappy with you now. Buckle up, this'll be kinda new for both of us. You're such a good kid. You're a good person. I wish I had had more time to see you become the person you're meant to be, but after you decided to stow away onto that ship, it's pretty damn clear that you're already getting close. I surround myself with people who give me constant anxiety with their relentless do-gooding and self-sacrificing (birds of a feather, I guess) and let me tell you, Peter: you're one of the best of us. You're always going to be. I'm so proud of you. I got to spend four beautiful years with my wife and daughter after the Snap, but it could never have been complete without you out there in the world. Morgan is my first born and the light of my life, but it sort of felt like you were my son before I even got the chance to be a real father. Thanks for the opportunity.

I hope you enjoy the White Spider suit. It's simple compared to most of the others, I'll admit, but I think that makes it pretty fitting. You'll go out and do great things, but don't forget the kid who sent himself to space because there can't be a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man when there's no neighborhood left. Don't be fooled by the minor cardiac arrest that might have given me at the time. I realized a bit later on that that had been one of the proudest moments of my life.

Stay safe, kid. I'd rather not see you anytime soon.

Love,

T.S.

You finish reading only moments before Peter does. He goes through it silently, thumb running down the side of the page as he progresses. When it reaches the bottom, he returns to the top and reads it a second time. By the time he has begun to fold the letter back up, he still has yet to say anything, but he leans back into you a bit as if deflating. You wrap an arm around his waist to support his weight.

"I can't believe he's still calling me out, even from the grave," he says, finally, with a broken-sounding laugh, "That's Mr. Stark, alright."

"If he cared about you as much as this letter says he did, then yeah," you say with a laugh, resting your head against his, "Of course he was gonna call you out. That's what love's all about sometimes."

Peter reaches up to wipe at tears that you can't see from the angle you're at. While you're aware that he's crying, you're grateful to know that if he was having a bad crying fit, it'd be much easier to tell. He's handling it pretty well. Your own heart is swelling with affection for Tony Stark, whom you've never truly met, and grief at having never gotten the chance.

He sniffs, and admits, "I expected that to hurt a lot more. I mean- it did hurt, of course. Reading this and knowing that he's gone forever. We'd never had much of a conversation about feelings or anything like that, but after reading it, I can't help but be like, 'Well, yeah.' Like I already kind of knew how he felt and just hadn't processed it yet."

"And how did you feel about him, Peter?" You ask softly.

Peter sits up and turns his body around to face you. He grabs your hands and pulls them toward him. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, surprising you.

"Oh, Peter, honey, why are you sorry?" You question, instantly worried.

"It's been weeks and I've barely told you anything. You've been finding out what's happened through Ned and Happy and- and even Mr. Stark- and never once have I just sat down and told you. I owe you that much, don't I?"

The heartbeat in your chest quickens at the prospect of Peter offering to open up to you, truly, for the first time in weeks. This isn’t about you, though. It’s never been about you.

"You," you assert, pulling his hands back toward you, "don't owe me anything, Peter Parker. You don't owe anyone. If you want to tell me about everything that happened, then I will listen until you've got nothing left to say, but you have never been obligated to share anything more than you are comfortable with. I don't need to know every detail to know that I'm going to support you in any way I can until you don't need that support anymore."

As you speak, you watch Peter's reddened eyes widen in surprise, shift to your held hands, soften, and then move upward focus on your own. When you finish, they seem to have taken on something that you can't quite read.

You don't get the chance to think it over, because Peter has very suddenly taken his hands from yours and brought them up to your face. He pulls you forward and leans in, almost hurriedly. Without any warning, he's kissing you.

Your mind is in a million places, eyes blown wide in shock- realizing that maybe the other expression on his face had been more akin to disappointment than it had been disgust when you had come so close to kissing him that first morning- rendering yourself unable to process what's going on at the current moment, but Peter is there, unmoving, warm fingers splayed across the sides of your face-

He pulls back, expression open and affectionate and absolutely heart-wrenching, and your chest nearly collapses. "I think I want you to know about it all," he says, pushing a bit of hair behind your ear, "If you've got the time."

It's hard to respond when he's stolen the air from your lungs and frozen you as still as a statue, but you just manage to pull it together enough to respond, "I've got all the time in the world for you."

Tag list

@undiadeestos @moonstruckholland @deathofthethrones @souvenirsvisuels @meliapis

[dorcasavelinehill]

YOUR ARMS FEEL LIKE HOME - Ch. 2: What Works For Us

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747418/chapters/51883102

“So here’s a philosophical question for you:  is it really theft if we’re paying exact change plus tax?” Mike squished into the corner against the back wall of the liquor store (after only getting them slightly lost one last time before finding it) and watched intently while Donnie picked the lock. Leo pulled a long face.  “It’s still breaking-and-entering.  And we’re underage.”  He stood squished on the other side, looking around furtively, as if he were expecting their father to step out of the shadows at any moment and catch them red-handed.

April considered his argument.  “In America.  Not other countries.” Leo looked at her.  “What country are we in?” “Doesn’t mean we’re wrong.  Could be a bad law.” “It’s not a bad law.” “Are you sure?” Donnie thrust a hand straight up between the pair.  “Hi!  Remember me?  I’m trying to concentrate here!” Mike looked puzzled.  “Why do you need your ears to concentrate on picking a lock?” “Someone hit him for me.” Raph gave Mike a light smack across the back of his head.  As Mike rubbed his head, not the least bit perturbed, Donnie laughed, “Bingo!”   The back door sprang open with a loud bang as it crashed into the far wall. Everyone went very still, waiting for any indication of an alarm going off, silently or otherwise.  Even Mike was frozen, waiting, despite being the one who claimed the store alarm had gone on the blink and nobody had bothered to replace or repair it yet.  When they were certain the cops weren’t on their way the group relaxed. April chuckled nervously as they made their way inside.  “So we’re officially criminals?”   Don gave her a light nudge with his elbow.  “Only if someone catches us.” “Which we’re not going to let happen,” Leo said pointedly.  “Think you can get the register working, Kitten?” April snorted, “No problem,” and set to work on it. “Oooh, Kaluah!” “No.”  Leo grabbed Michelangelo by the bandana tails and yanked him back.  “We’re buying beer and then we’re leaving.  Raph, get me two Bud Lights.” Raphael leveled him a look that could have brought down a mountain.  “I ain’t letting ya drink piss water.”  He thrust two Shiner Blondes at his older brother.  For himself, Raph selected a six-pack of Shiner 97, and snagged a bottle of Blue Moon for April. “Bingo!” April sang out.  The register chirped for her and the cash drawer extended.  There was no till, naturally, but that didn’t matter.  “Bring ‘em over.” She rang up the Blondes, the 97, and the Blue Moon.  “Can I have anoth-” “No,” Raph said. Annoying, but April didn’t feel like getting into it with him.   Mike brought over a six-pack of some weird IPA thing called El Dorado, while Donnie grabbed a six of Guinness Extra Stouts.  When nobody was looking, Don dropped her a wink.  She ducked her head and hid a smile.  At least one of the boys wasn’t going to baby her tonight. She rang it all up.  Leo shrugged and dropped several neatly-folded bills on the counter top.  “Alright, not exact change.  They can call it a tip.” “They want a tip,” Donnie grumbled, “here’s a tip - get a new security system.  Prefereably not one advertised on your local paranormal podcast.” “Ah, Donnie.”  Raph slapped Don on the shoulder.  “Nobody robs nobody in dis part ‘a town.  Billionaires’ Row’s right down the street.  Who’s gonna break in here?”  He smirked and snagged his six-pack, leading the way out the back door. “Well, I ought to leave the door unlocked on principle,” Don snarked quietly.  He didn’t, though.  Locking up was easier than unlocking the door without a key. They stuck to the shadows, returning to their rooftops.  Their rooftops - nobody else in the city could claim them the way the kids did.   Running was freedom.   Rooftop to rooftop was a straight path that only required a leap of faith, something all of them took fearlessly.  The boys were machines of muscle and sinew that sprung and landed with precision.  April was a little goat, her sneakers skidding on landing, but always recovering her balance in an instant, never losing her footing.   They flung themselves at a building that towered over the roof they ran across.  As they ran, jumped, and climbed, they caught hold of window ledges, siding, brick, and metal fire escapes.  They accomplished all of this with no more sound than a quiet sigh of mortar and a gentle shiver of metal, while the children clambered skyward onto the next roof.   Every movement was finesse.   They moved fluidly, unseen from building to building, following the bright moonlight until they found a good spot with a nice view and plenty of room.  It wasn’t the observation deck at The Rock, but they had a decent view of Central Park and the skyline.

*****

April unhooked her camera from the back of her belt.  All the buildings glowed like fireflies in the darkness.  She photographed the skyline, getting wide angle shots of several buildings, then photographed people dancing in the street far below them. She even managed to get several shots of a party bus moving slowly down a side street, the music, mostly dance remixes of popular tunes, drifting up as the bus passed by. April swayed, feeling the rhythm, then turned back to her brothers.   They sat on the edge of the roof across from her, beers settled neatly against the ledge wall, safe from falling over.  She seated herself between Mike and Don, kicking her legs like a little kid.  Donnie handed her a bottle from his six-pack instead of the Blue Moon Raph had picked out for her.  Either Raph wasn’t paying attention or he’d decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. Around them, the city sang. “Pretty night,” Mike said. “It’s going to start getting cold next month,” Leo said.  He pulled a grimace that the others sympathized with.  Of all of them, Leonardo felt the cold the worst, though he had learned how to power through it.  This was probably going to be the last time they could get out for a long night before the weather got really nasty.  That was probably the main reason their father chased them out for the evening. They had never kept to a strictly “human” schedule; the end of September marked a break period from intellectual learning and a return to heavy physical exercise.  More advanced combat lessons, extended sparring practice in the dojo, and “winter cleaning,” where their entire home was inspected from bottom to top, searched out for any weaknesses in either defense or in structural integrity.   Donnie took a long swig of his beer.  “The service manual for the Triumph came yesterday.” Raphael grinned widely.  “Awesome!” “You know we’re going to have to start from scratch with the engine,” Donnie said. Raph shrugged.  “We gotta start somewhere.” “Oh, God,” Mike sighed.  April buried her face in her hand.   In March, Raphael and Donatello had pooled their funds and purchased a pile of junk they claimed was a 1973 Triumph Bonneville T120V.  According to them, it was a motorcycle.  Leo called it a relic of a bygone era.  Mike declared it a desperate cry for help.  April had hummed “Taps” over it and covered it with an old table cloth, the better to shield the remains from impressionable eyes. Despite its sad condition, Donnie and Raphael played around with it throughout the spring and summer, trying to catalog all the parts and determine what needed the most attention.  Don tried looking for instructions online and came to the conclusion they needed a good, solid, hard copy of the service manual if they wanted to get it back to working condition - the idea of smearing grease and assorted bits of metal over his computer rubbed him the wrong way, and anyway, a manual took up less room than a laptop. Raph wasn’t inclined to talk as much as, say, Michelangelo, and if Donnie got lost in a project, he could be silent for hours while he observed or made notes or whatever he was doing.  Get them on the subject of the Triumph, though, and you couldn’t shut them up. Automotives not being her thing, April quickly cut in before they could start talking specifications or spark plugs or whatever went into making a motorcycle.  “Think Splinter will start training me on the sword this winter?” “Nope,” Raphael said. She jerked, eyes going wide.  “What do you know that I don’t?”  Her lips pulled down into a tight scowl. “You don’t got the muscle mass.”  He took a long swallow of beer, finished the bottle, and set it down behind him, fetching another one. Without looking at Raphael, Leo casually reached out a hand and yanked hard on his bandana tails.  Raph’s head jerked.  He spat out a, “Fuck, Leo!” and glared at his older brother. Leo shook his head warningly.  “That’s between her and Father.  Keep your beak out of it.” Mike said, “I think you could -” Leo interrupted.  “You, too, Mikey.  Father’s the Master.  He decides who trains with what.” “Thank you,” April said.  She brought her bottle to her lips and was surprised to find it empty.  “These go too fast.” Donatello handed her another of his beers.   Raph watched the exchange silently.  He could be such a judgy bastard sometimes, even if he didn’t come out and say anything.  April quite deliberately opened and drank half the bottle while he watched.  She wasn’t some baby anymore, after all.   Mike rolled his eyes at all the unnecessary drama.  “I’m staying out of it,” he said, pointedly looking at Leo, “but I think you can tell Dad what you want to learn.  You don’t know he’ll say ‘no’ unless you try, right?” “Mmm.”  April shrugged.  “I guess.  Just, if we’re gonna be stuck inside all winter, I want to learn something interesting.  I hate going into lock-down.”  She banged her heels against the side of the building.  “I feel like a rabbit hiding in a hole in the ground.” Raph reached behind Don to grab her pigtail, but he only gave a little yank, not a rough pull.  “Yeah.”  His version of rough sympathy.  April rubbed her head, thinking about the long, dark months ahead.   The collective mood was somber.  The run had been fun, and the chase, but that couldn’t dispel the dark cloud hanging over the five of them. Mike snorted and unhooked a small cellular device from the back of his belt, muttering, “Screw it,” under his breath.  He poked at the touch screen.  Music came out, blasting at first.  He had to quickly lower the volume while the others winced.  “Hang on, hang on.” The quality was a little tinny, but it was perfectly danceable.  Stevie Nicks’ hypnotic voice belted out the grainy beginings of April’s favorite song

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night And wouldn’t you love to love her?  

He set the phone on the edge of the ledge, climbing onto the roof proper and tugging on April’s pigtails lightly. “C’mon, Kitten.  I don’t wanna waste the last long night out, y’know?” April grinned and gave Mike a playful shove. “Knock it off.” “No, really!”  Mike looked over April’s shoulder and wagged his brow ridges.  “Leo, tell April she has to dance with me!” Leo sipped his beer without looking at either of the little ones.  “April, go dance with Mike.”  His lips turned up at the corners. Rolling her eyes, April hopped over the ledge to join Mike.  It wasn’t exactly a dancing song, but it was her favorite, and Michelangelo was as inclined to indulge her as Leo or Raph. Mike wrapped his right arm around her waist, taking her hand and giving her a quick spin before pulling her closer and taking the lead.  Leo, Raph, and Donnie swiveled around to watch the two of them finding the rhythm.  

She is like a cat in the dark And then she is the darkness She rules her life like a fine skylark And when the sky is starless…

April ignored the first icy breath of the wind against her cheeks and shut her eyes, pretending the whole world was watching, like she had a spotlight on her, and instead of tight-fitting, black-and-grey leggings and wrap-around shirt, she wore a long, flowing dress and fresh flowers in her hair.

Rhiannon...

The background singers repeated, and then were abruptly cut off by a high-pitched voice suddenly crooning, Ohhhh This is a story ‘bout a guy named Al, and he lived in the sewer with his hamster pal, and all of them were startled out of whatever reverie they were all in.  Mike dropped April’s hand and rushed for the phone, picking it up just as the jingle died.  His thumbs flew as he texted madly. Leo turned to Donnie.  “Did you check in?” he asked a little anxiously. Donnie shook his head.  “You were supposed to!” “I thought you were!  You told him you would!” “I said we would!  We, as in ‘any one of us!’” Between them, Raph looked disgusted.  “You two’re hopeless.” Mike finished typing out his text and listened for the beep.  “He says make sure we’re home on time.” “That’s a given,” Don said. “Anything else?” Leo asked. The phone beeped again.  “Um.  He wants a selfie of us,” Mike said. Don squished close to Raph on one side, Leo on the other.  April climbed into Don’s lap and ducked her head a little so she wasn’t blocking either Raph or Donnie’s faces.  Mike crouched between Raph and Leo and held his phone up sideways, preparing to take a picture.  “Everybody smile!” He paused for a moment, then said, “Raph, c’mon, smile.” “I am smiling,” said Raphael.  He did not smile. “Damn it, Raph, just smile!” Leo said, poking him in the side. In retaliation, Raph parted his lips in an epic grimace, displaying teeth in shark-like proportions.  Mike snapped the picture and sent it before Leo could protest. “Damn it, Raph!” “That was a smile!  I smiled!” The two of them went back and forth for a minute when the phone beeped again.  Michelangel read the response, then groaned loudly, grabbing their attention. “Eh?” “Wha-?” Mike rubbed his eyes, a headache apparently setting in.  He handed the phone to Leo, who read it, shut his eyes, and blew a loud sigh out his nose, before passing the phone over to Raph. Raph took the phone, read it, and screamed, “Sonovabitch!” Donnie snatched the phone away while Raphael advanced on his younger brother.  He held it out for April to read it with him.   The message was short and simple.   “Next time, make sure the beer bottles are not in frame.” Her stomach sinking, she scrolled the text screen up.  There, indeed, was the photograph, shot at an angle to get everyone in frame, two half-empty sixers included by Mike’s feet. “You couldn’t pay attention for two seconds?” Raph hollered at Mike.  Mike rolled his eyes, but his mouth pulled down guiltily at the corners.  “Gezuz, Mike!” “You guys didn’t move!  You just squished in!  Why weren’t you paying attention?” Leo said, “Maybe we should pack it in.”  He looked regretfully at the untouched beer bottles. “Yeah,” April said, “head home early and avoid being beheaded at dawn.  He can kill us immediately.” And then a flash of light. Everyone blinked, caught off-guard. “Was that lightning?” Mike asked. “That was not lightning,” Leo said. All heads turned to April.  As baffled as they were, she pointed both hands at her right hip, where her camera remained undisturbed.  Meaning, if it wasn’t her camera flash going off… A second flash alerted the group to the direction of the camera.  They turned and looked.  Two buildings down, there was a mild commotion.  Of the camera man, all they could make out at this distance was a hunched figure that looked like it was wearing a mask.  It stood up straight when they looked at it, cocked its head, and then apparently figured out they realized it was there, because it turned on its heels and took off at top speed, jumping from one roof to the next, more clumsily than they, but surprisingly fast. “Oh,” said Leo.  “Shhhhhhhhit!”

[anarchist-puppet-on-strings]

“You See Him Too, Right?”

SUMMARY: After his kids ask him to check for monsters under their bed, Chase begins to notice weird things.

Chase thought Stacy had been half kidding when she had warned him that the kids had been more skittish than usual. They’re abnormally quiet and their eyes are often drawn to the opposite sides of the room. It's only when bedtime comes when he realizes the extent of the problem.

Trey’s the one who asks.

“Daddy, can you check under our bed for monsters?”

“Kiddo, this is my room. I sleep here every night.” He shoots him an amused glance. “I can guarantee there's no monsters here.”

“He follows us,” Sam squeaks out.

That earns a raised eyebrow.

“He?”

Trey shrugs self consciously, picking at the threads of a cheap blanket. “We dun know his name.”

He pauses. It's odd Trey is telling him this. Trey is ten now. He's surprisingly mature and clever for his age. He seemed a bit old for the whole “monster under the bed” thing.

“Well, I’ll check anyways if that makes you happy.”

He could feel the two’s eyes on him as he knelt down and looked under the bed. As he expected, there was nothing there.

Chase gave a reassuring thumbs up from below. "Nothing down here, kiddos!"

"Can you check the closet too?"

The closet yielded the same result as underneath the bed. Both of his kids looked more at ease. Sam had latched onto Trey already, using him in lieu of a teddy bear. He had tried to push her away but eventually gave in and allowed it, appearing tired and disgruntled.

After the two had gotten their bedtime forehead kiss and the light had been flipped off was when Chase was able to relax on the couch with tv turned down low as background noise.

At one point, something out of the corner of his eye shifted in the darkness. He couldn't make out an exact shape but it moved quickly and silently. When he turned and looked out where the thing had been, there nothing but a small, dark kitchen.

It's nothing. He's tired and the dark plays tricks on the eyes.

He couldn't help the prickling unease that brought all his hairs on end from washing over him though.

Call Chase paranoid but he's been on edge the past few days after his kids left to return to their mother's house. There's nobody else in his apartment but the feeling of somebody's eyes on him wouldn't go away. It's infuriating!

It left sometimes—disappearing for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours—but it always came back. It's hard to sleep under the impression you're being watched. He'd get drunk and ignore it but he's wary of getting drunk in case there actually was someone. But hey, that's the anxiety talking.

So instead of turning this into some big kinda thing, he talked to thin air. His hopes to dispel the tense atmosphere worked—kinda. He had to admit it's much funnier dealing with a problem when he didn't take it seriously.

It's easier talking and joking with an unseen presence than going to therapy and going on meds.

As much as he's convinced the anxiety is amping up his paranoia, he had an odd feeling someone else was hearing all the bullshit he talked about to himself.

It's been one of those weeks. The weeks where everything blurs together and his brain is mushy. Chase sleeps way too often because he's constantly tired no matter how much tea or coffee he drinks and how much sleep he gets. It's been the kind of week where he sleeps so much he forgets to eat and drink until he's forced to do it when it becomes unbearable. The one where he's holed up inside his house because he'd been calling in sick for the past few days. The kind where he isn't sure he'd been sleeping or just zoning out.

Basically, he wanted to die.

Chase squinted, eyebrows knit together in confusion as he struggled to remember whether he left the tv on or not. It's on a channel he didn't even have, loud static blaring from the speakers. It's entirely plausible he'd done it while intoxicated or just couldn’t remember it. He shrugged and muted it before switching it off.

When the power cut out with a dying hum, Chase couldn't help but groan.

This is stupid. It's so stupid and it's annoying. He hates it.

His power has been going out sporadically for the past week and apparently it's just his apartment. He's been paying his rent, so his landlord concluded there must be something wrong with the wiring, and they're sending over an electrician in a few days.

He blinked when the power flickered back to life.

Huh... that's faster than usual. Oh well.

The electrician found nothing wrong but the power had gone out while she was over. She's baffled.

He may not have the greatest memory (in fact, his is really shitty) but he's certain he's turning off lights. The whole point of turning off lights is to save power, but either he's sleepwalking or this is a part of the shitty power situation!

Every night it's the same. He flicks off all the lights and heads to bed. In the morning... or whenever he wakes up really, a light—or all of them—are turned on.

It’s confusing. He’s even started writing down that he turns them off before crashing. At this point, he’s given up turning the lights off before going to bed.

Now they’re turning themselves off.

When he hears the whistle, he nearly drops his glass of water. He spun around, met with nothing but the darkness around him. It had been brief and sharp with no tune or melody at all.

"What the fuck?" He breathed to himself.

Chase flips on the lights and walks around the kitchen, trying to find the source of the noise.

He scratched his head with a frown.

Trying to recreate the whistle had no success either. He simply couldn’t match the lack of tune it had. That rules out the possibility of him whistling without realizing it.

Besides… it came from a few feet behind him.

He'd been staring at his water stained ceiling for over two consecutive hours when one of the floorboards creaks out in the hall. Like the kind of creak when he walks down the hall. He stiffens up and his eyes flash over to the closed door. A shadow passes by the crack under his door.

He waits another minute or two, fully expecting whoever was waiting outside to barge in and kill him already. But nothing happened.

He’s not ashamed to say he nearly screamed when something brushed against the back of his neck. It’s featherlight and the touch zapped him like static electricity. Of course, when he whirled around, eyes wild, there’s nothing.

It's totally possible he could be hallucinating or something. His paranoia has been through the roof with every little thing that happens. But it just felt too... real. Like somebody had actually been there and reached out and brushed their fingers against his neck.

Chase can't help but wonder if he's going insane.

Sometimes when he’s teetering on the edge of consciousness and falling asleep, he hears things. Things like low hissing and heavy, wet breathing. Something tapping in an inane rhythm against the hardwood flooring as weight shifts outside in the hall. Scratching—like his ex’s cat used to do when he got bored but louder.

And… and a weird voice? A distorted one warped beyond recognition that jumps high and low. He’s never picked up on any words—it’s all just nearly inaudible whispers that barely reach his ears.

He isn’t sure why his brain chooses to latch onto these bits of information. Your brain makes up weird things when it isn’t fully working properly.

Maybe it’s because he’s staring at deep gouges in the floor out in the hallway. It looks like some angry cat from hell got bored and destroyed his floor in a fit of rage.

Chase gets closure when his kids come back to visit a month after their first visit.

Quiet noises from his room caught his attention and his parental instinct kicked in. He needed to make sure his kids were fast asleep and undisturbed. Cracking the door open to allow the hall light to spill in and then peering in, he’s met with a ghastly sight.

Trey and Samantha are both sitting up, staring at the same spot as their father.

Something that nearly reached the low ceiling of the apartment while hunched over with big teeth, lots of glowing neon eyes, and a second mouth on its neck.

Trey turns to him with wide eyes and whispers, “You see him too, right?”

(A/N) Wow... two in a day huh...

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers, @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p, @bloodsoakedheretic

[gem-quest]

[ I N F E R N A  . . . ]

Real Name: Victoria Chang (goes by “Vicky”)

Age: 22

FC: Hoyeon Jung

Species & Class: Fire-Mage, Rogue

Guild: Obsidian

“Middle finger up, F you pay me”  —Blackpink, Boombayah  

Description of In-Game Powers: Inferna (Vicky) can generate and manipulate fire. She should theoretically be able to put it out, too, and control it in a more precise way, but so far, no luck. Over-using this ability results in dizziness and fatigue. 

In addition, Inferna has a natural affinity for fire-related ability scrolls, potions, and items. She is invulnerable to fire, though water and being underwater in general gives her up to -2 in defense.

Place of Birth: The suburbs surrounding Baltimore, USA

Appearance: Although Inferna’s natural hair color is black (technically, dark brown), she had it dyed red when she first got to college. In-game, she changes her hair color very often, utilizing a bunch of H-rank potions that are only there for cosmetic effects. She also gives herself a bunch of face tattoos in-game, just because she can. Currently, she has some of the lyrics from Blackpink’s DDU-DU DDU-DU tattooed around the area of her left eye, like so.

“I just think that it’s kind of lame that there isn’t even a Starbucks out here. I mean, all this fancy mead is fine and all, but sometimes I just really want a frap, you feel me?”

Places Most Likely to be Found In-Game: Inferna adores the Level 7 Tearoom. She’s always been keen on spilling the tea, both literally and metaphorically (plus the sweet treats don’t hurt!).

Inferna’s also a pretty regular sight in Yue City, trying to market her Inferna Sauce and Inferna Sriracha to beginner players.

Current Inventory: 

Flaming daggers x4

Regular daggers x2

Pocketknife x1

Silver dust x5

Dispelling amulet x1

Crossbow x1

Ignitium potion x2

Lock picking set x1

Ictuium potion x7

Black pearls x3

Blue pearls x3

“Inferna Sauce” (AKA hot sauce that tastes like Lao Gan Ma/chili sauce that she made using in-game ingredients to spice up the bland-ass white people food available in the marketplaces) x10

“Inferna’s Sriracha” (same deal ^^^) x14

Shortsword x1

Murmurationium x1

Assorted sweet treats from the Tearoom x22

+ assorted foodstuffs/drinks, and more coins than anyone would ever need because she’s such a goddamn hoarder

Strongest Character Trait: Flippant

“Leak college textbook pdf files, not nudes. Jeez.”

Strengths: Inferna’s a total boss at League of Legends (she was Diamond before she decided to check out Gem Quest), meaning that she’s pretty familiar with a lot of the game mechanics that GQ was founded on; in-game, she’s very good at appearing out of nowhere and then fucking off with whatever she decided that she wanted to steal; despite the fact that she thinks computer science is boring as all hell, she’s not bad at it - she hasn’t failed so far, which is a sign that she must be doing something right; somehow passing 3 years of CS courses means that Inferna’s pretty well-versed in a variety of programming languages (Python, Java, Haskell, Ruby, C++, etc); has a very good memory, despite her general flightiness; her in-game character is very speedy, if not always very stealthy; quick reflexes and good hand-eye coordination (Inferna would like to thank her eleven-odd years of playing League); a natural curiosity about the game has led to Inferna exploring all the little nooks and crannies of every level she’s been to so far, so she knows about many little secret passageways and the like

Weaknesses: In real life, Inferna’s primary motivations are 1) food, and 2) being petty, and this is definitely true in-game as well - the primary difference being that in real life, Inferna does not have the ability to whip out flaming daggers whenever she wants to; in general, Inferna is ready to throw hands way too often for it to be healthy; very reckless and impulsive; tends to jump to conclusions and rush into things without thinking it through; fickle as actual fuck; flighty and easily distracted; probably more fixated on trying all the pastries in the Tearoom than actually clearing the game; stubborn, headstrong, and bullheaded when she focuses on something long enough to decide that she wants it, no matter what - Inferna has a very ‘my way or the highway’ attitude; can and will pack so many meme and vine references into one sentence that it’s practically incomprehensible; what is self-control?; is avoiding all her responsibilities 24/7

Player Stats: Inferna’s got pretty high strength stats for her class, mostly because she decided to spec into fire-mage abilities (”Honestly, I just wanted to be like Uncle Iroh from ATLA and breathe flames from my mouth”), but her cautiousness is abnormally low for a rogue.

STRENGTH: 8

DEFENCE: 7

CHARISMA: 6

PSYCHE: 5

WILLPOWER: 7

CAUTIOUSNESS: 3

AGILITY: 9

ENDURANCE: 7

INTELLIGENCE: 6

LUCK: 5

Inferna’s general personality is better suited to being a Knight or a Rider, but on the intro screen she read that Rogues tended to get easy money, so she was immediately sold.

Personality: Well, to be perfectly frank, Inferna is...kind of a bitch (and, in real life, she was kind of an attention whore as a teenager, though she mellowed out a bit once she got to college). Inferna's perfectly aware of this, but she also like, doesn't care. With her sarcastic and irreverent sense of humor, Inferna is flippant and frivolous, always brushing other peoples' concerns and criticisms off with a breezy "eat a dick" (or something along those lines). Inferna is also a bit vain, especially when it comes to her hair, and has a very irreverent/ironic sense of humor (and she always appreciates a good nerdy science pun).

Although she really isn't the nicest person around, Inferna’s outgoing nature and spunky spontaneity (paired with a healthy dose of snarkiness) has still made her a couple of friends (and said friends are usually just as thick-skinned as Inferna can be). She's a bit too cocky and reckless for her own good, and she can be blunt to the point of being cruel. Inferna has no sense of tact nor subtlety whatsoever, and she means something when she says it. Inferna's not afraid of confronting someone head-on, and she has absolutely no patience for pussies who would rather subtweet her than talk trash to her face.

Flighty and fickle, Inferna's not always very good about texting back or making plans. She's extremely petty and makes way too many smart remarks for her own good, and has quite the temper on her - Inferna is both easily excited and easily angered, and can be rather capricious if she hasn’t had any coffee. However, she's also quick to forgive (if not necessarily to forget), and she can be surprisingly perceptive and observant sometimes. Inferna's a bit of a hypocrite in that she's not afraid to call out stupid bullshit when she sees it, but she's also very much full of bullshit herself, a fact that she will freely admit to. And although she doesn't seem to take anything seriously, Inferna can and will hold a grudge until the end of time if you piss her off enough.

Finally, some people can find her downright annoying, which Inferna is also perfectly fine with. She's quite self-aware, despite what one may think after interacting with her, and she's definitely not as clueless or oblivious as some people think she is-it's just a matter of if she cares enough to confront somebody about something. And, spoiler alert: nine times out of ten, she doesn't.

“I do things for two reasons, and two reasons only: 1) spite, 2) the aesthetic. That’s it.” 

Biography: Inferna had a pretty normal childhood, all things considered; she was a rebellious kid for sure, but her parents were patient with her and let her do what she wanted, so long as her grades didn’t slip (granted, her mom was pretty pissed when she decided that she wanted red hair on a whim one day and just went ahead and got it dyed, but beyond an annoying lecture, there were no other consequences). Inferna got into the gaming scene pretty quickly as a kid - she passed over stupid games like Call of Duty for ones where she could fuck people up and look cute, like League of Legends or World of Warcraft. 

Inferna got into a fairly decent public university in Baltimore, and was subsequently pressured into pursuing an undergrad degree in computer science by her parents. Inferna thinks that CS is alright - it’s not her favorite thing in the world, but it’s not unbearably boring like reading wack ass Shakespeare plays and then bullshitting a 2000-word essay about it - and so far, she’s passed all her classes. Which has to count for something, right?

Inferna decided to check out Gem Quest not long after it was released to the public, during the summer after her sophomore year of college. The only reason she really decided to was because she was tired of forking over $10 for each damn skin in League, and with a game like League, what was the fucking point if she couldn’t have a cute character? She slowly got more into it as time went on - the character customization options were absolutely gorgeous, plus she liked being able to actually sample the in-game foods - and it was strangely freeing, in a way, to be able to go on her own adventures and explore everything the levels had to offer. A way better use of her time than sitting in the library trying to debug her goddamn code, in Inferna’s opinion.

As Inferna began to take Gem Quest more seriously, she built a reputation for herself as That Bitch (TM).Thanks to her penchant of hoarding items and coins, she has gotten quite coin-rich, and thanks to her affinity with games that were similar to Gem Quest, she quickly advanced through the easier levels. 

Inferna was...surprisingly nonchalant, regarding G’s recent announcement that players could not freely leave the game anymore. She figures that if something horrible happens, she can always steal a relinquium��potion from some rando, but until then, she’s just going to enjoy life. G told the real world about the development, Inferna’s assuming, meaning that her parents won’t be expecting her anytime soon. It’s selfish of her to just leave them out there worrying about her, really, but Inferna doesn’t want to go back to the real world, not just yet - one day, she’ll steal that relinquium potion and finish her degree like she’s supposed to, get a 9-5 office job like she’s supposed to, spend all her time on boring software development like she’s supposed to - but right now, she just wants to have some fun.

Relationships:

ENTHRONED - Inferna met Neddy for the first time in Finvarra’s Gardens (Level 10), which Inferna beat a long time ago but returned to because she remembered that the level had the most gorgeous pastries (she forgot that eating/drinking anything would trap her on the level for the rest of the game). Neddy reminded her of that rule, and Inferna spent an inordinate amount of time fawning over Jack like he was a puppy (before asking to ride him, which Neddy agreed to). Inferna thinks Neddy is super cute and generally likes both her and Jack.

Eventually: realizing that Inferna and Plagueis have run into each other before + Inferna has heard the rumors about him and Bloodbriars having the Supernova scroll, Inferna helping Neddy beat Level 30 because she thinks dodgeball is fun

MORNINGSTAR - Inferna met Morningstar in the depths of the Descend one day before the first event. Noticing Morningstar’s potioneering supplies, Inferna asked her if she had anything that would “make it feel like being high on weed, not this red gas stuff that’ll probably give me cancer” (Inferna’s not like, that big on weed, but she likes it on occasion, and kind of misses getting high). 

Eventually: form a small two-person party together, Morn being all starry-eyed about Inferna telling her about how she’s fucked around in general (going to college parties, getting absolutely wasted, getting twisted, just generally dumb college freshman shit), somehow realizing that Inferna knows Emily through a League Discord server

CHAR -

Playlist:

"DDU-DU DDU-DU” by Blackpink

“Fire” by 2NE1

“Friends and Foes” by Higher Brothers ft. Snoop Dogg

“Dalla Dalla” by Itzy

“Icy” by Itzy

“My New Swag” by VAVA ft. Nina Wang & Ty

“Solo” by Jennie of Blackpink

“Boombayah” by Blackpink

“Just Like Fire” by Pink

“High Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ayzrules/leak-college-textbook-pdf-files-not-nudes-gq/

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Sirius gets information about Regulus death and breaks down. James and marauders comforting him.

Sirius didn’t know who to expect when there was a knock on the door just after dusk.

“I’ll get it,” he told his friends. Remus was looking wan from the full moon, Peter was eating some pumpkin pasties, and James definitely couldn’t get up with Sirius sprawled with his legs over his lap.

He was already apprehensive-- people dropping in at this hour were usually other Order members. Opening the door did nothing to dispel his unease.

After a moment of shock, Sirius promptly started to slam the door on his cousin.

“No wait—” Narcissa said, flicking her wand to keep the door open. “Your brother is missing.”

“I don’t care. Go away before I hex you,” Sirius snapped. James was at his side with his own wand drawn within a second.

“He’s been missing for nearly a month now,” Narcissa continued.

“You’re lying,” Sirius told her although he lowered his wand, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“I’m not lying. Aunt Walburga is having a funeral for him this weekend. She didn’t want to believe it at first, so she kept waiting for him to come back,” Narcissa told him. “He’s not coming back.”

Sirius’s shoulders slumped at that and he withdrew a step backwards as if putting distance between himself and the truth would make his brother come back. He felt his eyes water and blinked rapidly, looking towards the sky to keep the tears from falling.

“You’re certain?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I’ve heard that the Dark Lord hasn’t gone looking for him, even though he has been missing from meetings,” Narcissa told him.

“Get out,” Sirius told her.

“I thought that someone should tell you- since he was your brother. Even if you weren’t on the best of terms… I thought you should know,” she said- and his idiot of a cousin almost sounded compassionate. It was almost as if she cared.

“Piss off,” he told her.

Narcissa pursed her lips. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said evenly before turning and aparating away with a crack.

James’s hand was warm on his shoulder, squeezing just firmly enough to keep him grounded. “Let’s go inside. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Sirius said, voice coming out tight and not sounding like his own.

James guided him back to the table and he sat down. He didn’t remember either of them shutting the door, but James must have. His hands were shaking.

“You’re in shock,” Remus told him in his gentle and kind manner. He slid a hot apple cider in front of him, as if it might help with the chill and shock of dealing with death.

“I think I want to be alone for a while,” Sirius said quietly.

“I think it will be easier with friends,” Peter said gently.

“It’s true,” James agreed.

Sirius sank down next to James who immediately slid his arm back around his shoulders. “He’s my idiot brother. He’s supposed to still be putting up signs for me to keep out of his room— as if I’d want to go in there anyway— not off involved with Death Eaters and getting himself killed,” he mumbled. It was all a mess. He did want to go in Regulus’s room, both back when they were young and even more so now, as if he would find him there, smiling quietly in his self assured— bordering on smug— way playing a trick on him.

James was quiet and just rubbed circles over Sirius’s back quietly.

Sirius let out a choked sob and tucked his head against James’s chest, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m an idiot. Why am I crying over an idiot Death Eater?”

“He’s still your brother,” Remus said quietly.

“Yeah, he’s still the same swotty Regulus. He wasn’t all that awful, I don’t think. He just got caught up with it all,” Peter mumbled, trying to come up with a justification for it. “It wouldn’t be hard to be swept up with how powerful You-Know-Who is. We see it happen all the time.”

James held Sirius close, gently smoothing his hair and rubbing over his back. He tugged him up into his lap.

“He’s an idiot,” Sirius whispered, voice low and shaky.

James dipped his head down to kiss the top of Sirius’s head. His shirt stuck to his chest with the dampness of Sirius’s tears. “You’re going to be okay,” he murmured.

“I grew up with all of that rot and I didn’t believe any of the rot my parents said. Why did he have to—” Sirius said, voice breaking. “If he hadn’t joined, he’d still be alive.”

They were all quiet then, not sure what to say. Any of the losses of friends, family, or other Order of the Phoenix members hit especially hard.

It was Remus who broke the silence. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow at my place. You can all come.”

“Thank you,” James said gratefully. It would do them some good to get out of the house rather than staying in for the next few days.

“Do you want to go to the funeral?” Peter asked hesitantly. “We could go with you.”

Sirius shook his head. He wiped at his eyes and sat up, still staying on James’s lap. “Funerals are for the living. Mum loved him the most. I don’t want to disrupt anything, and I’m fine without going,” he said. A funeral was complicated, and no one would grieve properly if he were present even if he had every right to be there.

“We can come with you to leave flowers sometime next week after the funeral then, if you’d like,” Remus suggested.

“Yeah… yeah that sounds good,” Sirius admitted, easing a bit.

“It’s okay to grieve Padfoot- even if he was on the other side of everything. He was still your brother,” James told him gently.

Sirius’s eyes filled again at the past tense. Who knew words could hurt that much? “Yeah. He was,” he mumbled. It did feel safer to miss Regulus now. It was hard wasting the grief on the other side when so many innocent muggleborn witches and wizards had been killed. Yet James’s words put him at ease and got to the root of it- he didn’t want to spare grief on the other side, yet there it was. He missed his brother.

“D’you want to go lay down for a bit?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” Sirius said noncommittally with a shrug. He glanced at Remus and Peter.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” Remus told him, standing and clasping his shoulder briefly.

“See you tomorrow,” Peter said, following Remus out the door.

After his friends left, James stood with Sirius and they headed into their bedroom. They changed into their pyjamas and slid under the covers.

“Nox,” James whispered as he slid close behind Sirius, wrapping his arms around his midsection and drawing him close.

“He was always so quiet,” Sirius said almost absently. “He was well behaved, but mostly just quiet. He just watched people. He wouldn’t play with the muggle kids in Islington like I did. He just watched. He would sneak out with me before we went to Hogwarts, but he still wouldn’t play with them.”

James pressed a kiss to the back of Sirius’s neck, letting him ramble.

“He should have said something,” Sirius said, sniffling. “He should have let someone know he was in trouble. Why didn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t know,” James said quietly. “Maybe he didn’t know that he was in trouble.”

Sirius turned in James’s arms and wrapped his arms tightly around him. He tucked his head under his chin and against his chest, crying quietly into his shirt.

James let him cry, tracing his hands soothingly up and down his spine. He kissed the top of his head again, holding him protectively in his arms. He kept rubbing over the thin cotton pyjama top that Sirius had borrowed from him at some point only to never to return it again. He kept holding him, rubbing his back, and running his fingers through his hair even though the close proximity under the covers made him almost uncomfortably hot. He held him until Sirius’s cries stopped, his sniffling eased, and his breath matched his usual steady rhythm as he drifted off to sleep.

“Night Padfoot,” he murmured, getting a sleep filled noise of assent in return.

He shifted just enough that neither of them would wake up too hot in the night. Even if Sirius still looked distressed with his brow scrunched up even in sleep, they were both inured enough to death by now that he knew tomorrow would be less painful— if only by a little bit.

[tcfkag]

workfornow reblogged your link “I'm alive because of it': Ostomy advocate fights to dispel stigmas around the procedure | CBC Radio”

@workfornow - I hope it’s okay for me to share these tags from your reblog of my ostomy post (and if not, let me know and I’ll take it down) - but I know so well how she feels. I understand it in my bones even though it is so irrational. And I think there are many, many people with ostomies who feel the same way. It’s not at all unusual in a FB group that I belong to for women with IBD and/or ostomies to post questions that either ask “do you regret getting your ostomy” or “my doctors think they may be able to take down (i.e. reverse) my ostomy because my health has improved, but I’ve felt so much better over the last [xyz] months/years since I had my surgery, should I try getting it reversed? I’m scared that I’ll just get sick again....” And, inevitably, the answer to the first question is almost always lots and lots of versions of NO. Even thought ostomies can come with a whole host of issues of their own, many of which I’ve had to go through myself, the vast majority of the “Crohnnies” I know (i.e. people with Crohn’s Disease - though people also get ostomies for ulcerative colitis and colon cancer, amongst other reasons) were just so sick before they had their ostomy surgery - and for many of us, had been so sick for years before surgery - that you can’t imagine going back to living like you did before. It can be unbelievable for some people how much an ostomy improves their quality of life; hell, for many UC patients, an ostomy is an ACTUAL CURE. Sometimes when I am particularly frustrated with my ostomy, I try to remember just how sick and miserable I was before to help get through it, though the longer it is, the harder it becomes to even remember what “before” George was really like. That’s how much my ostomy changed my mind. And yet, despite all that, the answers to the second question are almost overwhelmingly YES. Because even for those of us who have ostomies - who know how much better our life became after surgery (and hell, for patients with UC like your kids’ stepmom, who may literally have been cured), we still tell people we would at least try to reverse our ostomies and go back to being “normal”. And honestly, it doesn’t make sense, it’s not like having an ostomy is so inconvenient that the benefits to our health are outweighed by the annoyance of having an ostomy. An ostomy really isn’t that hard to maintain (as long as nothing is going wrong medically) and sometimes it can even be convenient; road trips become a hell of a lot easier when you don’t have to always worry about where the next rest stop is. 

Ostomies don’t keep you from enjoying a full life; you can travel with them, swim with them, do almost any physical activity; any limitations that an ostomate may have on diet or activity is as likely to come from the condition that required the ostomy, rather than the ostomy itself. Even someone like me, who has had almost every ostomy complication in the book - painful and severe skin problems around the ostomy, stomas that had problems serious enough to require surgical fixes, the chronic obstructions I mentioned in the first post, and of course, the perforation that almost killed me and was, basically, caused when I had a serious obstruction after a surgery to fix an issue with George that caused enough swelling to block up my GI-tract (it didn’t help that years of active disease has made my intestines something akin to heavily scarred over swiss cheese which was a big part of the reason that we ended up needing to take out my entire colon and make my ostomy permanent so that reversal was never really an option for me). 

And yet, knowing all of that, many if not most ostomates say that they would at least try having their ostomy reversed. And when you get right down to it, there’s no way to explain that other than the fact that we all subconciously have internalized what society tells us about ostomies....when society thinks of us at all. Ostomies are gross. Ostomies are unsanitary and smell. Ostomies are ugly and need to be hidden at all costs. Ostomies are the last ditch, worst-case-scenario surgery. I’ve heard SO MANY people with Crohn’s and Colitis (or worse, the parents or caretakers of patients) who talk about their worries about having to get an ostomy as though it is AS BAD or even WORSE than death. Even I, before I had my surgery, used to think about ostomies that way. They were the Big Bad Scary Thing that I worried about when I worried about where my disease could go; IBD is a chronic illness, it's not supposed to kill you, but it can. And yet, IBD patients, especially when newly diagnosed, will almost always list “having to get an ostomy” as their biggest fear for the long term. I’ve heard people who should know better say they’d rather die than have one. Even doctors or patient information for the newly diagnosed can sometimes talk about ostomies as something that only happens if every other treatment option has failed; the last step before they just give up because there’s nothing else to be done. 

I was diagnosed at 13 but didn’t get really sick for ten years after that and during those ten years when I thought about ostomies/needing surgery (if I thought about them at all, which was very rare), I thought of them as losing. Teenage me thought getting an ostomy would NEVER happen to me because that would mean “letting the disease win” and at sixteen, I thought that with enough willpower, I would always beat Crohn’s. It took about 2 years of living with a severe flare that started about a year after college to finally realize how wrong I had been - those two years included a six-week backpacking trip throuh Europe with a friend, moving to Boston from DC, starting law school, and beginning my first long-term serious relationship (with the man who is now my husband). And yet when my doctors told me that they wanted to do a temporary ileostomy in 2008 to try to help things heal and to give my body a break, I still wasn’t happy about it. I would constantly remind my doctors, my boyfriend, my family, and everyone that “this ileostomy is TEMPORARY” because even after I had my temporary ileostomy and felt better than I had in years, I still thought that having it made permanent would be the end of my life and was willing to do just about anything to avoid that happening.

Okay - this reply has gotten way longer than I meant it to, but here is the TL;DR version: society treats ostomies like they don’t exist - most people don’t have a clue what an ostomy really is. And when society DOES acknowledge ostomies exist, it almost always treats them as either a butt of a joke or as disgusting. So it’s not at all surprising that patients internalize that stigma, even if only subconciously, and many of us would still go back if we could, even knowing how much better our lives are without our colons fucking things up for us all the time. And THAT, to me, is SUCH a shame. We need to change how ostomies are perceived, not just in society at large but in the IBD community as well, because when we treat them as worst-case scenarios second only to death as a potential side effect of Crohn’s and Colitis, we make patients (a significant percentage of whom are likely to need an ostomy at some point in their lives) think something that we should be trying to normalize is not just abnormal, but terrible as well. Destigmatizing ostomies won’t just help people like me who already have them, it could save people years of suffering or even death by not making them struggle through years and years of unnecessary misery before being willing to even consider an ostomy. 

[cmbynreviews]

A complicated affair

Armie Hammer was poised to be a major matinee idol. But he wasn’t prepared for what happened to him on the set of Call Me by Your Name.

Armie Hammer is six-foot-five, a general advantage in life but one that doesn’t serve him well on the dance floor. "When I dance", he told me recently over lunch in West Hollywood, "I think, You’re really shit at this, and everyone around you knows it because you’re the tallest guy on the dance floor and you stick out like a sore thumb".

You can imagine Hammer’s embarrassment, then, when he had to shoot a dance scene for his new movie, the 1980s-set gay romance Call Me by Your Name. It’s a pivotal moment in the film that comes not long after his character, grad student Oliver, has arrived in a small Italian village to assist the professor father of our protagonist, 17-year-old Elio (Timothée Chalamet). The secret crush on this interloper that Elio nurses becomes full blown the night he watches Oliver boogie down to "Love My Way", by the Psychedelic Furs: Oliver’s ecstatic, unabashed, and utterly indifferent to the world around him. "And that’s so not me, in any situation", said Hammer. "I was like, ‘This is hell. Can we switch this for more nude scenes, please?’ "

It wasn’t easy, but Hammer finally shed his inhibitions. His moves are just the slightest bit dorky, yet his character’s confidence is irresistible. Just don’t expect Hammer to echo Oliver’s carefree attitude: Ever since a clip of the scene went viral in October, the actor has gone dark on social media. "Anytime I would open up my Twitter, it was just a ton of that", Hammer said with a laugh, referring to the clip, "and I was like, ‘Nope, I can’t have my nose rubbed in this anymore. I’m out!’ "

In person, the 31-year-old Hammer is almost implausibly self-effacing. When I told him that I liked his 2015 caper movie The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and how it was too bad it didn’t do better at the box office, Hammer seized the opportunity to quip at his own expense: "That might be the Armie Hammer effect". It’s true that since Hammer had his breakthrough dual role as the Winklevoss twins in David Fincher’s The Social Network, his follow-up projects – he played the charming prince in Mirror Mirror and the title role in The Lone Ranger – haven’t quite panned out. The irony is that The Social Network was supposed to launch him toward bigger movies, but none of his would-be franchise-starters managed to outgross that film domestically, and they left Hammer increasingly dissatisfied. "All of a sudden, I realized I was being shoehorned into something that was different than what I expected or wanted out of this business", he said. "When you’re sitting in an acting class when you’re young, they tell you about the ideal experience on a project, where you work on a movie that challenges you and draws something out of you. But you don’t get that on big movies".

So Hammer retrenched, working mainly in independent films like Nocturnal Animals and Birth of a Nation. Then director Luca Guadagnino sent Hammer the script for Call Me by Your Name. The offer was to play Oliver, whom the other characters call "la muvi star", a term that is meant both as praise and as a pejorative. In an attempt to dispel his crush, Elio initially dismisses Oliver as a shallow American hunk: He’s afraid to look closer, and isn’t it easier not to? Guadagnino, though, was determined to go deeper with Hammer than any of his directors had. "I think Armie’s a very complex person", said the Italian director, who also made I Am Love and A Bigger Splash. "It’s not just that he’s beautiful-looking. It’s that, plus his inner turmoil, that is fascinating to me".

"Inner turmoil" is not the primary thing people think of when presented with Armie Hammer, who spent his formative years living in the laid-back Cayman Islands and is the great-grandson of a famous oil tycoon. But the self-effacement I had been initially skeptical of is something that comes to Hammer naturally: He is used to being looked at but not really seen, which makes him nervous about revealing an unvarnished side. "There are a lot of things about Oliver that resonated with me, and primarily it was that projection of ease and casualness and comfort that you might not actually be feeling all the time", said Hammer. "My whole life, I’m bluffing my way through it all. And Luca was just like, ‘Nope, that doesn’t work around here’ – which was terrifying".

Hammer is married to TV host Elizabeth Chambers and has two young children, but when production on Call Me by Your Name began in the summer of last year, he left his family behind to move to the Lombardy town of Crema in order to immerse himself in the film’s world. He and Chalamet were two of the few English-speakers for miles and grew to depend on each other as a result, but his bond was even more intense with Guadagnino, who continually challenged Hammer to drop his defenses in a way he never had onscreen.

"I’ve never had such an emotional journey with a director", said Hammer. "I’ve never even considered directors to be emotional people! I don’t even know if I’ve worked with a director who even cared if I was mad at them before. It was more like, ‘Shut up and stand on your mark and do your job.’ "

As Call Me by Your Name goes on, Oliver is willing to reveal more parts of himself to Elio, who becomes his lover. But even before that moment, as with the dance scene, Guadagnino and Hammer searched for opportunities to dig deeper. The André Aciman book that Call Me by Your Name is based on tells the story from the point of view of Elio, who is enchanted with Oliver’s seemingly effortless confidence. Hammer, though, thought much of his character’s personality was performative, a well-practiced routine of smoke and mirrors. Even Oliver’s insouciant habit of ducking out of every scene with a breezy "Later!" had emotional underpinnings: "It’s about getting spooked by this human you’re infatuated with", explained Hammer.

Eventually, Hammer himself became spooked, having plunged into Guadagnino’s process so deeply. "The feeling of operating from that place of passion is really contagious and soul-satiating", he said. "It’s the safest place I’ve ever been in my life – still to this day – when it comes to feeling complete empathy, complete understanding, and complete love, no matter what. But then … he knows if you’re lying. He knows if you’re not being honest, whether in real life or in the performance. And he will not back off".

As the production neared its end, Hammer admits, he became peevish and started to withdraw. "For reasons that could be personal to Armie, I had the feeling that he was pulling away", said Guadagnino. "The movie wasn’t finished, and I had to bring him back". I asked Hammer what had made him behave like that. "Everybody was sort of lashing out because this thing was ending and nobody wanted it to", he said. He hesitated, wary of what to reveal. "Honestly", Hammer said, "I think I had fallen in love with Luca".

"For me to make a movie, it’s really creating a family", said Guadagnino. "Having a very profound familial bond with the people I’m doing the movies with, where you literally and constantly fall in love with all of them. Sometimes, this emotional flow can be very intense. Very! As it was with Armie. And then it can be very complicated".

Hammer had flourished as an actor and as a person under Guadagnino’s guidance and he couldn’t bear to let the project go. Eventually, he would have to, and so would Guadagnino, who was slated to begin his next film, a remake of the horror film Suspiria. Hammer said he became jealous once he felt Guadagnino mentally move on to that film. "I was like, ‘You fucking philanderer! You duplicitous bastard!’ And that made me pull away, and then he did, and it turned into this whole thing".

"That was not my explanation for it", said Guadagnino. "I never, never put Suspiria in front of Call Me by Your Name". Still, he understood Hammer’s passion and reciprocated it. "It’s beautiful when you fall in love with someone and you are restrained in your exploration of that feeling and you sublimate it in making a movie like that", said Guadagnino, who eventually called Hammer to his apartment to hash out his feelings.

"He basically nailed me, nailed me, nailed me", said Hammer. "And I was pretending: ‘No, man, that’s not it at all.’ Like, I couldn’t even be honest about that".

Hammer recommitted himself to the role, and he remembers the mixed feelings he had on his final day of filming. "It was such a powerful experience that in a way, I was thinking, I’m relieved that it’s gonna get mellower", said Hammer. "But also, I thought, I could do this forever".

Though he has recently been shooting the Ruth Bader Ginsburg biopic On the Basis of Sex in Montreal, Call Me by Your Name has not been far from Hammer’s mind. For one thing, it changed how he approached his career. "Now they’ll be hard-pressed to make me do something I don’t feel passionate about", Hammer said. "To be perfectly honest, for as much as people really seem to enjoy the movie, it pales so much in comparison to the actual process of making it. Other people didn’t get that experience. I did. Watching it feels like reading CliffsNotes of an amazing book. I was there every day, all day, living this thing, so now when I watch it for two hours, it’s just too quick. I wish I could go back to that place".

He has, in some ways. He flew back to Italy recently "just to be in Luca’s apartment and have conversations again". And he also taped the Call Me by Your Name audiobook, an experience that "felt like I got to go back to Crema", Hammer said. "We read it for 20-something hours, but it was just the best 20-something hours of the last couple months, apart from spending time with my family and kids".

Hammer’s performance as Oliver is so indelible that, at first, it’s difficult to imagine him inhabiting neurotic, love-struck Elio for the audiobook. However, the more you listen as Hammer wistfully describes his time on Call Me by Your Name – a transformative experience he will spend the rest of his life attempting to recapture – the more you realize it’s exactly how one might reminisce about a lover long gone. Hammer may play Oliver onscreen, but at heart, he is a secret Elio. "That’s exactly what it feels like!" he admitted. "And I’m still in love".

KYLE BUCHANAN | NEW YORK MAGAZINE | 13 Nov 2017 | (Photo: Amanda Demme)

[curedeity]

 Gasher's Repose

Summary: Madoka does not battle, she has many other ways to pass the time though. And sometimes, she passes the time together.

   Madoka wouldn’t call her engineering a hobby. At this point, it was more a prospective career. She still enjoyed doing it, but she could have fun doing more than a singular thing. And having a wide range of talents and interests was quite important.

    Everyone wanted to participate in Battle Bladers. It was no surprise, they were all very competitive, and given the danger of the Dark Nebula organization, they’d want as many people they knew competing in the tournament as possible.

    But that didn’t mean Madoka didn’t have objections to it.

    Well, not objections so much as stipulations.

    “Does this look good?” Kenta frowned as he flipped over the piece of chicken he was grilling under Madoka’s watchful eye. If Kenta was going to be traveling alone (because he was too stubborn to have Gingka babysit him) she sure as hell wasn’t going to be letting him eat dogshit the entire time.

    “Hm…” Madoka inspected the piece of meat. “5 more minutes and we’ll check it again. It should be lighter.”

    Kenta sighed and slipped the piece back over letting it sizzle in the pan. He had agreed enthusiastically to the lessons, as Kenta was prone to do. His eagerness was always welcome, but Madoka could tell that the amount of time she had kept him cooking was starting to grate on even him.

    It had started with her teaching him a simple recipe for pancakes, then how to properly prepare veggies, and now onto how to cook meat. 

    “When’d you learn to cook Madoka?” Kenta asked absent-mindedly as he kept his eyes on the chicken.

    Madoka paused, the memory coming to her with frightening yet relieving ease. “Well my grandma showed me a few recipes, she really loved to cook,” Madoka reminisced, rustling through her shelves. “But I was pretty young so I didn’t learn much, it was only later that- Aha!-” Madoka pulled a book out of the mess. “-She gave me this family recipe book and I learned a lot from following the instructions in it.”

    She passed the book to Kenta, who paged through it carefully. It was decorated with simple illustrations, and a few photos that Madoka believed her grandmother had taken. The pages were worn down from the constant use Madoka put it through, and the pages yellowed with age.

    “Hey, you’ve made us this before!” Kenta said, his voice rising excitedly into an almost yell as he pointed at a cake recipe. Madoka leaned over his shoulder, nodding. 

    “That’s one of my favorite sweets to make.” Grandma had used to make it on her birthday, chocolate peanut butter cake topped with caramel coated nuts. That cake was the reason Madoka thanked biology every day for not giving her a peanut allergy.

    “It’s one of my favorites to eat,” Kenta mumbled, and Madoka hid her giggle as a clearing of the throat.

    “All the recipes in there are very good, tried and tested through my family for generations,” Madoka winked. “You can use the book any time if you want to try cooking something new, even I haven’t gone through everything yet.”

    “There’s just so much, how am I going to learn to cook this all?” Kenta continued to flip through the book, only this time with a mounting horror.

    Madoka hummed, quickly trying to think of words to dispel her young friend’s fears. “Well, most of it is just about learning the basics. Like most things, baking is just a combination of elements. I’m hoping to teach you some simple elements so you can apply them while you travel.”

    Kenta nodded. Madoka could remember as a child how daunting that same cookbook had seemed, but that was so distant now. 

    Madoka laid her hand on Kenta’s shoulder, smiling down at him. “You’re doing great,” She praised. Kenta reacted well to compliments, and it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve some. He had patiently done what Madoka asked, and he was learning well.

    Kenta immediately smiled. “Thanks Madoka!” He chirped.

    Cooking was one of Madoka’s passions. A survival skill, but also a way to connect with others. She had learned so much about her family from this cookbook and now… well now she had shared it with Gingka and Kenta.

    It was really fun.

    Madoka sniffed, staving off happy tears. Her kitchen smelled of spice… and smoke.

    “Fuc-dge!” Madoka swore, spinning around as she and Kenta frantically turned off the stove and tried to salvage the chicken.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    She cleaned everyone’s beys. Scanned them once more and updated the files she’d had on them. Cleaned her tools. Had her leftover pieces ready to be swapped in if a worse scenario happened during their next tournament battle. 

    Was there really nothing left to do?

    Her eyes roved over the supply case once again, and another time. Maybe she should make them shine, just a bit more.

    “No, bad Madoka,” She admonished her workaholic self, slapping the back of her palm lightly. “Just relax.” There was no more work left to do, and at this point all she’d be doing would be stressing herself out more. 

    Pulling out her computer, she hovered the cursor around, chewing her lip. There was still a while before night would truly set in, it was too early to sleep with the last rays of the sun still casting light. She didn’t really want to play a visual novel right now, too much reading. Finally, she decided upon a racing game, opening it up to the quiet sound effect of an engine revving.

    Madoka smirked as she joined a group. The race track was slowly decided, a beginner’s course. Shame, she had voted for the speed track, it had some rather unique mechanics she had learned to abuse.

    Coding was a skill that would take people years to learn. It was a slow process of building up equations and scripts until something came of it. Madoka was not a coder. Madoka had, however, gone into the files of some of her favorite games and maybe messed around with them a bit, just to find out exactly how the games worked.

    Needless to say, she knew how to play.

    Winning the first round was easy, as was the second and third. It felt cheap, in a way, to be playing against people who likely weren’t as experienced as her. But she didn’t have anyone else to challenge, and it’s not like losing should rob the game of its fun.

    Besides, they seemed to be enjoying ganging up on her.

    It felt like so long ago that she had met her new friends, when in reality it was only a year. In that year, however, she had become quite used to being startled. That’s why she didn’t even blink when Yu barged into her room, pulling Masamune behind, and flopped down on the bed beside her.

    “Madoka,” Yu whined, tugging at her arm. “I’m bored,”

    Yu was a very talented blader, Madoka had nothing but respect for his skill, her brain still echoing the time he had beaten Gingka. Yu was also a small brat.

    “And?” Madoka hummed, lapping one of the players that had gotten stuck in a sticky trap.

    “Masamune won’t play with me, he keeps saying he’s too busy.” Madoka could hear the pout in Yu’s words. She had been spending too much damn time with this kid to be able to recognize it this easily.

    “Well, when you’re the world’s number one blader, you have to keep practicing all the time,” Masamune scoffed. Oh, to have an ego that large, Madoka wished she knew the feeling.

    “Hm, you didn’t seem that busy yesterday when you were crying over a romcom, surely you can spend some time entertaining Yu,” Madoka pointed out. 

    Masamune spluttered, Yu yelled, “I wasn’t crying!” “I don’t need to be babysitted!”

    Madoka passed the finish line and logged out of the server, watching the tourney she had just destroyed get added to her ever increasing win rate, Then she leveled the two with the driest glare she, tiredly, could muster. Masamune reeled backwards, realizing his mistake, and Yu slammed his mouth shut.

    Really, this wasn’t abnormal or even a shock. They were all teenagers, with small attention spans and easily bruised egos. It was almost every day that an argument would break out over what to spend the day doing. Honestly, it seemed like the only thing they could agree on most of the time was beybattles.

    “How about this, I teach you both to play a racing game?” Madoka offered, pulling out some extra controllers she had and passing them off.

    Yu brightened immediately. “Oh yippee! Masamune, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

    “Language,” Madoka chastised as she synced the controllers in.

    “I’m number one, there’s absolutely no way I’m losing!”

    Madoka would never beat either of these two in a beybattle. This was not a problem for her, and she had no issues admitting it. Both were talented in their sport, and she respected that.

    But it did feel good to lap them in every single game they played.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Madoka didn’t take up new hobbies often. This was more from a lack of time to continue even her old ones than lack of interest. Now, stuck travelling so often, she ended up having more time on her hands than she even knew what to do with.

    She had to say, she never would’ve imagined herself learning to knit, yet here she was with a tutorial video opened in front of her.

    “I think you’re casting them on wrong,” Tsubasa frowned as he glanced between her tangled mess and the instructions. He was having his own problems, but had luckily made it through the casting stage.

    That didn’t mean he knew how to explain how he’d done it, Madoka was frustratingly coming to realize.

    “What are sides even? What are directions?” She mourned as she unknotted her abomination.

    Tsubasa shrugged, getting started on his second, lumpy and uneven row.

    It had been agreed upon by the entire time that they’d switch seats every time they traveled. As well as some of them could get along, if any of them spent too much time around the same single other person, blood would be shed.

    This time, it was Tsubasa’s and Madoka’s turn to hang out, while the other three snored away across the aisle. 

    “Maybe crochet is easier,” Madoka grouched.

    “I would fear trying to do anything like this with only a single needle,” Tsubasa replied gravely, his gaze full of fear as he pulled through another stitch.

    Madoka frowned, “I’m pretty sure crochet is more complicated than that.” It would have to be, wouldn’t it?

    Tsubasa shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” And Madoka couldn’t disagree with that statement.

    They had both decided to start easily. Madoka would be making a new scarf for Gingka. While in Russia, she had learned that his normal scarf, with all it’s length, had no volume or actual protection against the cold. It was an insult to scarves that she intended to rectify. Tsubasa was planning a small pouch to replace the old one on his belt, though she suspected he’d be better off buying a new one until he got the hang of knitting.

    Not that she could say any better for herself…

    “I’m going to be giving Gingka the lumpiest, most lopsided scarf in existence,” Madoka announced, finally finishing casting on. Yes her yarn had begun to fray, but at least it was on the needle now!

    “If it truly looks that awful, you could always give it to Director Ryo,” Tsubasa deadpanned.

    Madoka saw her opportunity and swooped in for the kill. “Unlike you, Director Ryo hasn’t practically adopted me yet, so the gift really would be coming out of nowhere.” Madoka… honestly didn’t know that much about Tsubasa, or many of her friends. It was always nice in moments like these to tease them about what she did know.

    Tsubasa spluttered and Madoka set down her knitting so she could cover up her laughs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Being a mechanic for beys, Madoka really should’ve known more about astrology. It was always strange to remember that even Gingka knew more about constellations than she did. She wasn’t completely ignorant, but comparatively she was lacking.

    Yuki had lived his whole life revolved around the stars, learning to draw lines from brilliant dot to bright light every night. He was an actual expert among their group, and on the nights they camped out he proved it unintentionally.

    It didn’t take much to convince him to set-up a telescope at the hotel they’d be staying at for a few days.

    “So, the fall constellations should be out right now, do you know which ones those are Ms. Madoka?” Yuki asked, fiddling with the telescope as he tried to angle it just right. 

    “Yep, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a refresher,” Madoka smiled at the younger boy. 

    Yuki nodded, launching into an explanation Madoka only understood half of, because at some point he’d decided to go into the science behind the expansion of stars. It was quite interesting though, listening with one half of her brain, and looking up towards the tapestry of the sky with the other.

    He was so excited, and Madoka let herself get swallowed in that enjoyment.

[impishnature]

Breaking The Cycle

AO3

Rating: G

Summary: Stan's learnt over the years how to deal with bullies. But sometimes, dealing with them isn't the hard part, it's helping pick up the pieces.

AN: Pure fluff ahead. Commissioned by the lovely @nour386 who wanted some Stan and Dipper bonding/dealing with bullies. And it just ran away with me because we all need fluff now and again.

If you would like to commission me, please go here xx

.

"...Mabel?"

"Yeah?"

Stan winced at the nervous tone, the soft anxious lilt that spoke volumes to how easily she knew he could see right through them both, and that she knew exactly where this conversation was headed. He didn't even need to turn around and look at her, in fact he thought it was better this way, both of them not comfortable with the awkward stilted questioning that was about to follow. Part of him wanted to give in to the urge, to let the matter go there and then before it went too far.

...He knew he couldn't though.

Instead he squinted harder out of the glass pane he was stood at, trying to discern the small sullen figure sat on the floor, familiar hat all the was visible above knees tucked tightly into his chest, his head down and arms tight, resting against the totem pole. "Where's Dipper?"

There was silence for a poignant moment, a pause that confirmed a few of his suspicions.

Something wasn't right.

"Dipper? He's just- he needed to write some notes down in his new journal before he came in. Suddenly remembered them, didn't want to wait- you- you know how he is." He could practically hear the stretched on smile tight across her face, fake, but trying her best to power through. "Nothing else matters when he has a brainwave. I'm sure he'll be in, in a bit."

She was a terrible liar.

It was almost an offence, hadn't she learnt anything from him in the summer they'd spent here?

"That so?" He huffed, straightening up and turning to her with his own showman's smile. "Guess I'll have to go get him then. It's gonna be dark soon and if he keeps squinting at that journal of his, he's gonna need glasses like me and your Grunkle Ford." Not one of his greatest lies, but, then again, they both knew there was something afoot so why try harder than necessary?

It was obvious enough by the way Mabel's smile vanished into alarm as he walked away from her, out towards the front door.

"No- wait! Grunkle Stan."

He paused, just in case.

He knew sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone, even if he didn't always listen to the gut feeling.

"Yeah?"

"He just- he wants to be alone for a bit, that's all."

Stan sighed, hand resting on the door frame. Her voice was so forlorn, her tone filled with disappointment that her twin wouldn't talk to her when something was wrong. He knew the feeling well, his mind ticking away slowly over what could have happened. "I know, sweetie. But that doesn't always mean you should be alone, you know?" He smiled over his shoulder at her, continuing on before she could argue or agree with him.

"Stan?"

"Not now." Stan gestured at his brother as he came down the stairs, his face confused and slightly affronted at the flippant dismissal.

"I was just going to ask if you'd seen Dipper-"

"Yep, going out to get him now." Stan slipped his jacket on, buttoning it up as he flashed him a sad smile.

"Is- is he alright? What's happened?" Ford's face shifted into concern, eyebrows furrowing as he went to peek out of the window.

"Not sure, but there's something about the way he's sat out there that reminded me of you when we were kids." Stan shrugged when Ford's gaze snapped back to him. Every mention of a once forgotten memory always brought that sharp, scrutinising look, but now was not the time or place. He rolled his eyes, dispelling the sudden shift in momentum. "I didn't mean- just that I remember another kid shying away from people after he'd been caught alone by Crampelter a few times."

Not that it had happened often, he had made sure of that.

Ford's face changed, dropping sympathetically as he went back to the window. "Oh. Should I go talk to him?"

"Nah, let me deal with this." Stan flashed him a grin that did little to relieve his worries. "After all, I reckon I did a pretty good job when we were younger, didn't I?"

A sharp whistle echoed through the front lawn.

"Wow, that's quite a shiner you got there."

Dipper winced, ducking his head back into his knees, eyes barely visible between the gap as he glanced balefully up at Stan before darting his gaze away across the nearby trees. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Stan groaned as he sat down in front of him, ignoring the pain and the slightly damp grass in favour of his nephew's well being. He tried to wait patiently as Dipper's gaze flicked back to him now and then, instead giving him as subtle an appraisal as he could, hoping that he was succeeding in keeping his jaw from clenching and his fists from tightening at the grazed knees and elbows, the black eye already blooming, dark and swollen in the half light. "I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like."

There was a vicious pride in Dipper's eyes as he finally locked them with Stan's, though only for a moment. "Worse."

Stan grinned back, teeth sharp. "Good." He leaned forward, lowering his head to be on eye level with him. "Though frankly, I'd rather you didn't get into fights. That's what I'm here for." He sighed as Dipper's grip tightened, pulling himself into an even smaller ball, pushing back into the totem pole as if hoping it would swallow him up. "Listen kid, I'm not here to tell you off. I just wanna make sure you're alright, you know?"

"They were talking about you."

Stan blinked, sitting up straight again as the boy finally spoke, the words blurting out of him in a moment of vulnerability. "They did what now?"

Dipper fidgeted, uncomfortable but unrepentant as he scowled deeply, heels kicking at the mud beneath him. "Some stupid teenagers that had been dragged on a tour."

"I'm not following, kid." Stan continued to stare at him, ignoring the huff that emanated in response, a sound that wished he'd just get it and stop asking questions. He remembered a bunch of kids at the back of his latest tour, his schedule had been forcibly reduced by his family even after his memories had begun to flow through easier, not wanting him to tire himself out. He tried not to argue, knowing that the real reasoning behind it, was them wanting to spend more time together and honestly, that's all he'd ever wanted too. But that as it was, he was used to rowdy begrudging teenagers that had been dragged along to a tour they frankly had no interest in.

So what did he care? Money was money. If their parents wanted to waste it dragging them around now that the tour was back in action, then more fool them.

Besides, since the near miss apocalypse, people had been rolling into see the place where it had all happened and the people that had put a stop to it. And he couldn't help but preen under all the attention.

He wasn't about to let some teenagers ruin that. For him or the kids.

Dipper's scowl grew deeper, though there was a faint glimmer of worry in his eyes that he'd overreacted as he bit his tongue and scrutinised the old man before him.

Stan smiled reassuringly, hands up placating. "Hey, no judging. Between you and me, I'm pretty sure I've got in fights over less. You've got a much more level head than I ever had as a kid, let me tell you."

The words came out in a mutter that Stan had to lean in to catch, the boy still uncertain as he mumbled into his knees.

"They called you senile."

Stan winced. His family really did have a thing about his memory now. Even his jokes were usually met with horrified looks and a high pitch 'Stanley' if his brother was present. Not that he could blame them really, he didn't want to even imagine it any other way, with one of the kids or Ford forgetting, having to sit and watch one of them stare blankly at him, not knowing who he was- he snapped out of the nauseating thoughts back to the present and his sullen nephew. Now wasn't the time, after all it had been him, which was the best for everyone even if they didn't think so. "Alright. I think I get it. But I mean-" He gestured at himself and got a small displeased noise for the movement. "That wouldn't be the first time it's happened, and I don't need you throwing punches over something like that." He raised an eyebrow, glancing over his glasses at him. "So? What else?"

"What-?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't be sat out here if it was just that. Especially if the other guy looks worse." Stan grinned, making himself more comfortable on the grass. "So, come on. Out with it. What else happened?"

Dipper stared blankly at him for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. In any other situation Stan might have been impressed with himself for saying something that knocked the smart kid for a loop, but as it was there was a faint sizzle of fire burning through his blood at whoever had started this in the first place.

No one messed with his family, that was just a rule.

He watched hawkishly as Dipper seemed to zone back in, eyes narrowing anxiously as he bit his lip. He worried at it for a second, words obviously sat on the tip of his tongue as he struggled through what exactly to say to him. But instead of words, he gripped at the peak of his hat, shifting it down further on to his head in a nervous habit.

Stan's own eyes narrowed, the flickering flames burning a little hotter, the gesture jarringly familiar to how someone else he knew used to hide his hands behind his back.

Before he could say anything though, Dipper finally got past the lump in his throat.

"Are we a family of weirdos?"

Stan blinked at him, the boy giving a slight chuckle at the incredulous look he was getting.

"Was that a dumb question?"

"I mean my brother built a doomsday device, so..." Stan grinned as a hysterical bubble of laughter escaped Dipper, his body finally relaxing ever so slightly. He knew there was more to, knew that Dipper wasn't going to tell him every insult that the teenagers had thrown at him, but he could work with this. He could make things better again. "And I run this place." He pointed behind him, still smiling. "Hardly a normal family, right? But if you ask me..." He leaned in close, conspiratorially, and Dipper followed suit, curiosity piqued. "I'd say we're more interesting than weird. What about you?"

"Interesting..." Dipper's mouth tweaked upwards ever so slightly, just for a moment, and Stan saw a faint glimmer of a win on the horizon in it. "I like that."

"Nothing wrong with being interesting. Just means we've got more stories to tell." Stan's face dropped along with Dipper's, the end of his sentence unintentionally sparking dismay in the boy.

Dipper's gaze snapped back to him, eyes desperate and incredulous. "They didn't believe any of the Weirdmaggedon stuff, Grunkle Stan! They think it was all a hoax and that the town made it up to get more people to come here!" The words were coming thick and fast, the floodgates opening as Dipper unleashed the torrent of distress. "They said you were just senile and that the town was going along with a crazy family and their conspiracy theories. And I couldn't just sit there and listen a-and-"

"Whoa. Whoa, there."

Dipper's mouth shut at the interruption, but a few more words slipped past, his eyes still forlorn and disappointed.

"I couldn't have them thinking you weren't a hero."

Stan sighed, shaking his head. He quickly put his hand back up as Dipper shrunk inwards at the movement. "Easy, kid. It's alright. I get it, I do. I've got in fights for smaller slights against my bro, let me tell you." He tried to smile reassuringly but it fell flat. It meant a lot to Dipper, that was for sure, even if he didn't want it to mean anything to him. Kids could say what they wanted about him, none of that mattered. As long as his family was in one piece and making amends, who cared what anyone else thought? "But we know the truth, don't we?"

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing. The town knows, I know, you know. We beat that yellow triangle and everything else that came with him back through the rift and kept this place safe. We did that. You did that."

"They don't believe us though!" His voice cracked, upset and angry. Stan couldn't blame him, having to prove yourself had always been a sticking point with him too.

"You're always going to meet people who don't believe it, kid. Doesn't matter how much proof you show them. Thought you would have got that with the kinds of things you and Ford both like to research." Dipper's mouth shut at that, his face suddenly thoughtful. "But the fact of the matter is, you know the truth. And you're surrounded by people who know that you're telling the truth. If you spend your life trying to convince everyone else, you'll never get on with what you actually want to do." He leaned in again, glancing down at the grass below them. "Can you imagine if I'd tried to tell people about the portal and what had happened back then? There's no way anyone would have believed me. But here we are, and so is Ford. And that's all that matters, right?"

"I guess?"

"So, what matters, right now, is that we did do it. We saved the world- apparently." Stan grinned, tapping at his head. "And if it wasn't for you and your sister I wouldn't remember any of it."

"Mabel did that."

Stan scrutinised the boy again, watching and waiting as he continued to curl inwards, hands clasping at his hat again. He grit his teeth to stop from seething, stop the anger that threatened to bubble forth that someone- anyone, had made Dipper feel unneeded in any way, shape, or form. Now wasn't the time for the righteous anger though. Now was the time to patch up the wounds, not start another fight. "Dipper?"

He waited until the boy finally looked at him again, choosing his words carefully.

"You're an amazing kid, Dipper. You took on a dream demon. You and your sister never hesitated when it came to going to rescue family- Now I'm not saying it was the smartest move, but it was definitely the bravest. And look at everything we accomplished together. As a team." He shook his head when Dipper looked ready to argue, ready to downplay his part. "You think just any kid could have done what you did? Ford told me how you went to help him defeat Bill in the first place, then you went to find your sister and bring her home. You both somehow managed to convince a ragtag group of civilians to follow you into danger all in the hopes of saving the world. And not only that! You two succeeded. Did you ever think about giving up? Once? Did it ever even cross your mind?"

"No..."

"Exactly." Stan sat back, smiling at him proudly, watching as Dipper uncurled, eyes slightly watery and hopeful. "Like I said, amazing." He put his hand up, counting things off on his fingers. "You're smart, you're resourceful, you're brave, and once you've set your mind on something you don't give up. And that's just the things I can think up off the top of my head." He sat there for a second, mulling over words that he knew he'd have wanted to hear, years and years ago. "And I'm proud of you, you hear? No matter what happens, I want you to remember that."

Dipper's eyes glazed slightly, though he sat up straight as Stan fixed him with a stern gaze, finger pointed in warning at him.

"You're brilliant, Dipper, just the way you are. So, don't let anyone convince you otherwise, you hear me?"

Dipper's lip wobbled, front teeth biting down as he sniffed and nodded, scrubbing at his face quickly as if to hide from him.

Stan wasn't having any of it.

They'd done this song and dance before, hiding feelings, pretending they didn't matter.

Not anymore, he didn't want the kids hiding things from him or thinking they couldn't come talk to him about anything.

"Come here, you."

Dipper didn't need another prompt, he glanced back up and saw Stan's arms open wide and launched. Stan laughed as he came close to falling backwards, the force of Dipper barrelling into him almost upsetting his balance. "Easy kid, I promise, I'm not going anywhere." He patted his back reassuringly, letting him get it all out. "But I want you to promise me something in return, OK?"

Dipper stilled ever so slightly, nodding into his shoulder in way of acknowledgement.

Stan sighed again, continuing his soft pats. "I need you to promise that you won't run off into fights like this alone again. You got us, remember? We work great as a team, don't we?" He huffed, tightening his hold on him. "I don't want you getting yourself in trouble and not being able to help."

"...It was just some teenagers."

Stan snorted, ruffling his hair at the sullen words. "This time it was. But last time it was a dream demon you picked a fight with. So, you know, I think my argument still stands." He felt a rumble of choked off laughter in his shoulder and beamed at the small victory. "We've battled zombies and pterodactyls and god knows what else that I haven't quite remembered yet. But what I do remember is that when we tried to do things alone, it all went pear shaped. So, how about if I get into a fight I'll be sure to let you guys know and you do the same?"

"Yeah... Yeah, OK."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good." Stan gave him another tight squeeze before pulling back to look at him properly. "Now how about we get back inside before it gets dark and we accidentally end up on another adventure that no one will believe?"

Dipper laughed again, scrubbing his face again as he gave Stan another crushing hug. "Yeah, I think I've had enough unbelievable adventures for a bit."

"You and me both."

"That was very responsible of you."

"Hmm?" Stan looked over as Ford stood just inside the door, waiting patiently for Dipper to run past and out of hearing range before he spoke. "What was?"

Ford shrugged, smiling softly. "Nothing. Just surprised you didn't get any names and haven't already gone running off yourself to teach them a lesson. Very... grown up of you. Much more level headed."

Stan snorted. "Please, as if." He walked past him, calling over his shoulder as he went. "There's enough cameras set up in here between you and me to figure that out without stressing Dipper out more."

"Of course there is... why did I think you wouldn't have a plan?"

"Ehh, I guess thirty years apart will do that."

"...Should I be worried?"

"What? Of me?" Stan's grin turned vicious. "Why on earth would I set myself on them when I can just set their own parents on them? I'm sure between us we can come up with a believable lie... besides, I did make Dipper promise that we wouldn't go into fights alone anymore so..."

Ford sighed, jovial and jokingly dismayed. "Well, I guess I don't have a choice then."

"Please, as if you'd do anything differently."

.

AN: Honestly, writing Stan telling Dipper he was proud of him made my day. So I hope it made someone elses too! ...We should all say I’m proud of you far more often if you ask me. I try to make a habit of saying it when my friends are trying their best/having a rough time <3 always helps to know someones in your corner.

[astrofireworks]

astro witch coven au (moonbin)

introduction | rocky | eunwoo | moon bin | mj | jinjin

Astro’s resident Charmer

Rocky insists on calling him a Talisman creator but Bin personally thinks “charmer” fits his Very Attractive Face very well

He deals with charms and spells and puts them into objects to protect or to curse or to do stupid things like fly around Rocky's head

½ of the Lil Shit line  

I swear to god he’s such a little shit

Loves pranking the rest of the Coven

Loves charming multiple things to fly around Rocky’s head

And it pisses Rocky off so incredibly much

Once he made Rocky’s metal ladle fly about a metre above his head for about 10 minutes before Rocky glowered at him and threatened to slip a skin colour changing potion into his drink

He put it down pretty quickly

Rocky put the potion in his drink anyway as a lesson

Loves loves loves pranking Sanha

Once he stole a dead beetle from Rocky’s potion ingredients stash and asked Sanha to hold it temporarily while he went to the bathroom

But he added a Vibration spell beforehand and just as he left Sanha alone it started twitching

Sanha screamed so loudly nearly all his hyungs came running

I mean they all laughed but Sanha nearly cried

Once also he charmed several crystals with a Shouting spell

And put them all near places Sanha frequents like the bathroom and the stairs and the kitchen and whatnot

And every time Sanha went near those places it shouted, really loudly, “MJ, JINJIN, CHA EUNWOO, MOONBIN, ROCKY, YOON SANHA, A S T RO” in his ear

And Sanha yelped EVER Y T I M E it was hilarious

It also got Bin a whack on the head by Eunwoo because “even though it’s hilarious it’s not nice to bully a yoUNG CHILD, I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT” yeah

A ridiculously talented charmer Talisman Creator

His mum says it’s because he was born under some star or whatever Bin didn’t really listen because he was too busy doing other things

But when he was 8 his powers started to manifest very very strongly and his parents had to send him away to a stronger coven to train

I mean, his parents run a pretty small charm shop and they’re fairly good with energy and charms

But Bin’s magic became hard to control even for skilled witches like themselves he began dispelling excess energy into inanimate objects

Once Bin’s dad came home to find his pots and pans dancing around the kitchen and Su A crying because of the sheer amount of noise her brother was making

So Bin’s mum sent him away to a family friend

Speaking of which

Trained under Ravi from the VIXX coven

So he joined them when he was 8 and he was the most powerful young witch they’ve ever trained

Which is saying something because all the witches there had dealt with at least 3 apprentices each before

And the last most powerful witch they apprenticed ended up being part of their coven aka Hyuk

Story time

So when Bin’s mum brings him in to meet N Bin is really really afraid

He’s eight and he doesn’t want to live far away from his family with these strange tall beings he wants to stay home and he wants to run around with Su A and watch as his blue flows through with her lavender

And so he goes kicking and screaming to the VIXX coven

But when he gets there he sees sparkling, shiny crystals floating around N and he sees how they glow with a soft, pale blue light and his heart immediately aches because he wants to do that

And when N places a small Calming charm in his hand he feels the magic running through it and pulsing into his veins and he’s suddenly giddy with the power and peaceful all at once and he knows he wants to make this happen

And so he pushes up his tiny glasses and tugs on his mum’s hand and tells her quietly that he’ll see her later because he wants to go with Uncle N (cue N squawking indignantly that he is not An Uncle, thank you very much) to learn how to charm things

And his mum just pats his head and tells him with tears in her eyes that she’s proud of him and to behave and that she’ll see him during the weekend

But yeah the VIXX members quickly pick up Bin as part of their group it’s so cute

He’s apprenticed under Ravi but he takes lessons from everyone

I mean, he’s messed up a couple times and sometimes it’s hilarious

See: the time Ravi taught him to make a Waterproof charm and made Bin test it out on himself by dumping a bucketful of water on his head and seeing if he stayed dry

Hint: he didn’t

Which is a story in itself

And sometimes it’s alarming

When Bin thought he made a pretty good Fireproof talisman and threw the charmed pebble into the fire

It was Not Fireproof it was Flammable

RIP VIXX’s fireplace

Loves 2 sleep

No kidding

Naps everywhere

Anytime

As long as he’s not watching over some crystal formation or some energy channel he’s napping

He’s a tired baby please forgive him

Loves 2 eat

Also not kidding

Eats everything

Anywhere

Anytime

I woke up at 7am to watch Bin’s eating livestream he was adorable he was so painfully boyfriend please kill me

Eunwoo’s often wondered if he’s stored his stomach in a separate talisman or something and that’s why he can eat so much

But no, it’s really because Bin loves all and any food

But it’s also because he uses a shit ton of energy when he seals spells and charms into different talismans so he snacks all the time and eats a lot at meals

He likes to joke it’s him leaving a bit of himself in every talisman he creates but it’s not that much of a joke because it’s kind of true

Also loves to flirt

I’m kidding really he ‘flirts’ with everyone but he doesn’t really mean to do it????

It’s mostly his smile I think he just grins and everyone kind of lowkey falls under his spell

Haha see what I did there

And when he opens his mouth literally everything sounds flirty

(swings by the Seventeen coven to deliver charms to Mingyu)

“hey love, how’re you doing?” @ mingyu

not even a flirty sentence

but he’s grinning at Mingyu and Mingyu has a faint blush spreading across his cheeks

“wow uh Nothing Much” mmhmm very coherent Mingyu

no lie my roommate was once actually so flustered she actually said this out loud then walked into like 3 people

“Oh, and I added an extra crystal in there along with your order, by the way. I had an extra one lying around begging for a Happiness charm.” (adds on a wink) @ Mingyu

Mingyu, in his head: “mmasdhfkljsajskdfhlkasjd”

Bin: (accidentally has to deal with a glowering Wonwoo)

now Wonwoo deals with all the deliveries to the Seventeen coven house in case that one Charmer comes again and tries to flirt with his boy

ok but truth the very first time he went to deliver charms with Ken to learn his delivery route was when he was like 10 and Ken deemed him capable of controlling his powers outdoors  

and literally nearly everyone fell in love with this boy

all the old witches cooed over him

even the grumpy potions master over at the Bangtan coven loved Bin he actually smiled at Bin and gave him a piece of candy that Ken checked meticulously for signs of tampering even though Ken’s been going there for forever and he’s never even gotten a smile  

literally the most precious child my heart is in pain I love baby Bin

Changes hair colour every 2 or 3 weeks

Usually it’s a side effect of a spell

He’d be using too much energy to do something by accident and the energy would spill over in the atmosphere and dance around the closest living thing

It used to be a plant he kept next to the table and it used to sprout randomly coloured flowers but one day MJ swiped it for a blood ritual and it was never returned to him so

Now the energy hovers around him and sometimes when he straightens up all the excited energy floats around his head and runs through his hair

And you’d just see Bin’s eyes shining in concentration through a blue stream of magic

So sometimes you’ll see him in the morning with deep purple hair and in the afternoon you’ll see him with pastel blue hair

It throws Eunwoo off sometimes but Eunwoo loves all his colours anyway

Sometimes it dances around Eunwoo’s head and all Eunwoo does is lean back from the blue clouds and watch it flow excitedly

And sometimes Bin watches him

Is so so so incredibly soft for a small bean with a beautiful eyesmile it’s not even funny at this point

IT’S SO OBVIOUS TO ALL THE MEMBERS

To everyone but Eunwoo tbh

I mean the moment he met Eunwoo he was Whipped™ for that man

What’s that

You want to hear the story of how they met ????

Well I guess I gotta

Here we go

Bin was in the middle of training with Hyuk and Hyuk was trying to teach him a Pain hex charm

Which requires a lot of energy by the way since Pain hexes need the charmer to have an evil (? Negative?) intention

But Bin’s always discharged his negative energy by pulling pranks on all his members in the VIXX coven

So it was really difficult for him to pull negative energy from the air

(Hyuk said it’d get easier as it went on because the longer you live the angrier you get at the world but Bin isn’t sure if he wants that to happen)

And so sitting with 10 crystals floating around his head and Hyuk sitting opposite him Bin starts to cast the hex

Fast forward three hours

It’s just the same thing but with more frustration

And more light blue energy floating about his head

And Hyuk falling asleep

Fast forward another 2 hours and Bin’s passed out on the floor with a cut on his forehead because one of the crystals was a bit too zealous in its spinning

And Hyuk’s kneeling over him and smacking his face and he’s not moving at all and Hyuk is panicking slightly and he doesn’t know what to do and

Next thing they know Hongbin’s levitating Bin out the door and Ravi’s in the car and they’re driving as fast as they can to the nearest Healing house

And this was back when Eunwoo was still training with Snuper

So Ravi just bursts into the house and Hongbin’s shuffling Bin into the house and all the Healers look up from different spots around the house at the noise

And the first one downstairs is Eunwoo and he’s snapping out a thin sheet onto a Healing table so Hongbin can set Bin down and everything is happening all at once and way too fast

And Ravi’s talking a mile a minute at Eunwoo about the hex Bin was trying to master and the crystals are circling agitatedly around Bin’s head and Hongbin’s chewing on his lip and trying not to let tears slip out

But the more Ravi explains about the hex the more worried Eunwoo gets about this pale boy that’s getting increasingly weaker as time slips by so Eunwoo stares right into Bin’s face and places a single finger on Bin’s forehead because wow if anything, Eunwoo is sure this boy is too beautiful to die

And instantly a spark of green runs down Eunwoo’s arm and shocks into Bin and there’s a flash of blue as Bin jolts on the table

And suddenly the table is smoking with blue and green magic

It’s so heady it sends the two Charm witches reeling and Hongbin and Ravi have to sit down and the witch on the Healing table beside Bin’s blinks sleepily and starts to sit up

And suddenly Bin’s eyes fly open and meet Eunwoo’s and wo w

Wow

Woooooow

Bin has to blink a couple times because wow is he dead already?

He didn’t even get to say goodbye to his parents

Or his sister :(

But ??? he can ask this angel to help him tell them, I guess?

Wait

Do witches go to heaven

He’s not sure but he’s pretty sure he’s in heaven because there’s no way this angel belongs in hell

Wait

The angel’s talking

And he looks worried?????? The angel keeps blinking and Bin vaguely starts counting the number of beautiful long eyelashes

And suddenly Bin’s ears unclog and he hears Ravi and Hongbin murmuring worriedly and the angel asking him if he’s alright

Oh dear if Ravi and Hongbin are here does it mean they were killed too oh God Bin didn’t mean to do this he never meant for any of this to hap-

And then he hears Eunwoo say, “Oh thank goodness you’ve woken up, we thought you were going to die…”

And it’s the softest thing he’s ever heard wow how can someone have a voice like a windchime????

Wait

He’s alive

He’s ALIVE

And the first thing he says is

“Are you real? Like, not an angel?”

And he watches as the not-angel flushes

“Yeah,,,,,,,,,,,,,,”

And instantly even with his forehead stinging and his legs weak he props himself up on his forearms and grins through the pain at Eunwoo

“Well, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

And immediately he feels Ravi roll his eyes and Hongbin smacks him on the back of his head

But Eunwoo is smiling and blushing and his smile is so so so beautiful Bin get stunned into silence once more and obeys Hongbin’s hands as he gets laid down once more on the table

Until he realises that this particular angel’s method of healing is by touch and he flushes

Truly a blessing

I guess you could say

He was touched by an angel

Please shoot me

(dabs) i’m nearly done with finals i’ve got 2 more papers on thursday and friday then i’ll write something short about how Eunwoo recruited Bin into Astro (dabs again)

[incarcerationincarnate-blog]

Bio

(Taken from here.)

Given name: Torque

Canon: The Suffering ‘Prison is Hell’/'Ties that bind’

Version: Ties that Bind || Neutral morality

Canon Point: Post game

Age:  34

Gender: Male

History:

[Note: This back story is not validated by the game or by the creators, and is my interpretation given what information is available.]

Torque’s past is a far from a pleasant one– at the tender age of three he was left in the administrative care of the Garvey’s childrens home, an institution that was just the start of Torque’s problems, and a place he would like to pretend didn’t exist, let alone admit he was raised there.

The orphanage was far from a safe haven, a smouldering pit of abuse situated in-between desolate buildings and dilapidated crack dens, inside of Garvey’s was as dangerous as the outside of it. It was far from a sanctuary, regardless of age, colour or condition and, while some of the staff were genuinely concerned for the children’s welfare, there were others that seemed to find nothing as pleasurable in their young denizen’s misery and/or submission. While Torque was one of the luckier children, he still found himself on the wrong side of his carers intentions more often than not, most due to his apparent autism, and his severe dislike of talking and selective mutism… Something that was taken advantage of more than once in his childhood.

At fifteen he left the care of Garvey, branded a bully by the other children and a problem child by the staff, his first (and then only remaining) alter Blackmore in tow and began working in Baltimore docks for under minimum wage. Due to his mature appearance and disassociative behaviors, it wasn’t long before he got caught up in both alcohol and drug addictions, the former being the catalyst that ended up with him meeting Miles, a loud, overly ambitious kid whose old man who owned a backwater bar he frequented close to Torques shitty little bedsit. They were definitely an odd pairing, but they remained good friends up until Miles’ death decades later.

It was also where he met Carmen, and 18 year old barmaid who worked for Miles’ father for a short time, and who worked as an assistant secretary for a big firm Torque never got the name of. Either way, there was an obvious attraction, and they ended up marrying quickly due to Carmen getting pregnant in a few wild and wavering weeks that Blackmore managed to force himself out for.    

Personality:

Torque’s personality is outwardly very stoic, any emotion that crosses his face is fleeting, and only the more important things earn words from him. While this gives him an air of aloofness or even (at times) arrogant indifference, there is a considerate human being under the thick carapace and to those that he grows close enough to he shows it quite openly, and at times, when the situation forces his hand. He’s not all spiky shell and no gooey inside however, and can and will show compassion to people who ask or (obviously) need it, even towards those he cares little for, and sometime even those he openly hates.

Most of his problems stem from his lack of speech, as Torque has spent most of his life suffering from Selective Mutism, which came on from an early age after suffering in an abusive environment. His DID also stemmed from his bad treatment at Garvey and, while his personalities grew, his voice dwindled- suppressed now not only by his fear and anxiety from physical threats, but also mental ones as well.

Torque knows he’s a hard man to get on with, and even harder to enjoy his company, so he doesn’t go out of his way to make friends. Most people that engage in his company are people that have heard of him through reputation; most of these people are flaky at best, only out for their own skins or for a paycheque (men who work for Blackmore, prisoners and officers of Carnate trying to survive etc.) and most people Torque would benefit from having relationships with tend to keep their distance due his appearance, his company and his notoriety. While Torque isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, that fact hasn’t gone unnoticed and has left him with a heavy 'fairweather friend’ attitude.

If you can convince him the friendship is authentic however he’s loyal, caring and willing to do anything for you. It takes some doing though.

Weaknesses:

Can'tdeal.jpg- He can’t do it. He just can’t do it, regardless of what, who or where in his life it happens, dealing with things is a big no-no. From being imprisoned to his relationship with his on-off wife, if Torque could man up to half the things in his life, then half the things in his life wouldn’t have happened, or, at least, would have been far less extreme when they did. He has the irritating habit of taking all his aggression and stress, bundling it into the tightest ball of RAEG he can manage, and then shoving into the darkest corner of his mind as he can find. If a good beating can’t solve the problem, then he’s at a loss, which leads to fretting and more anger.  

All of the Rage!- His temper is his greatest strength, but it’s also his most obvious weakness. Torque’s anger stems from a variety of places and his rage can become so uncontrollable he’s siphoned it off into it’s own personality, real enough to him to the point of hallucination and murder. At his angriest his third personality comes into play, known simply as 'The creature’ in which Torque has little to no inhibitions, to the point of ripping men (and monster) apart with his bare hands. While he can calm his anger usually, as in the case of his wife, the calm doesn’t come quickly enough.

Meathead- Torque isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, that much is obvious. However he probably could beat every other crayon in that box into shades solely of black and blue. His strength, while sometimes being beneficial (like when he was prison for example), is more more often than not the cause of more problems (Like… what got him sent to prison in the first place). When Torque realises manslaughter and GBH aren’t the best solutions for everything, his world will be a better place. Until then though, this facet of his personality will always be something of a problem.

S.M.- When you know the signs, it’s quite obvious that Torque suffers from selective mutism; his immense failure when it comes to dealing with his problems (which in itself is then a problem, starting the vicious cycle), his lack of expression and usually withdrawn, surly nature are all tell-tale signs… They are also tell-tale signs of an antisocial asshole, and Torque does very little in dispelling that idea. His lack of speech, especially around people he doesn’t know and high stress situations, does little to make him seem like much of a useful commodity. While his actions exhibit his strengths far better than his words ever could, actually being able to speak on some occasions would make things an awful lot easier, and definitely alot safer.

Loop-de-looping over the Cuckoo’s nest- While he may not be very vocal externally, internally there is a very vivid contrast; his brain addled with hallucinations, both in forms auditory and visual. It’s understandable that, withscenes and conversations that can be only deemed impossible (both real and hallucination) playing out in front of him, that he may just be a tad insane in the membrane’. He’s never spoken of his problems, not to his wife, to his friendsand definitely not to an qualified psychiatrist, preferring to stick his head in the sand and let the problems fester. While the good (and rather insane himself) Doctor Killjoy tried to aid Torque, it did little to solve the problem, instead managing to rub salt in the proverbial wound and just bring back all those raw, festered memories before prancing off to do something far more interesting… Like building a reanimator-esque ray gun.

Addict- Torque had something of a drug addiction in his teenage years, both in a bid to pick himself up from the lows of the hand life had dealt him and also in a bid to drive away what was most likely the onset of depression. Though he pulled himself out of the pit of heavy drug addiction, torque still suffers with it, shifting his tastes to alcohol and over-the-counter-medication instead. His addictions are very much a double edged sword- on one hand his tolerance to toxins has helped him survive, push forcefully administered shots of Sodium thiopental (one of the drugs administered in lethal injections) and later heroin once he re-enters Baltimore with surprisingly little effect. In the same backhanded blow his tolerance forces him to over-indulge to feel any sort of drug-induced effects, be it narcotics, depressants or even just plain old pain relief. This makes him all but useless for a time afterwards (unless his adrenaline is peaked) as his body combats succumbing to overdose. It does however make him a great meat-shield.

Mundane Strengths/Abilities:

Tank&Spank- Torque, in all senses of the term, is a tank; he can (and will) usually run roughshod through whatever he is pointed at, and usually with great success. Capable of pulling apart monsters double his size and pulling down walls under the right duress, Torque makes for a good ice breaker, and an even better diversion and best (or worst) of all, he damn well knows it. He’s very likely to put his strong build and high tolerances to use, engaging incoming threats, especially when he’s accompanying others.

You’re a good man T- Torque, despite his impulses and demeanor, isn’t a monster- he feels emotions and has similar logic to any ordinary person, he just finds it overly difficult to voice that, both literally and metaphorically. When someone gains his trust however, he can and will do whatever it takes to protect them- hell, sometimes those that haven’t earnt that still get taken under his wing if the situation is overly dire. While he’ll just about speak with those he respects he’s not going to leave others in the lurch, especially if he knows information; from notes, to wall scrawling, Torque usually finds a way to get his point across, and he’s not afraid to play courier for others either, if the need ever presents itself.

Well-versed in the wierd- Since he was little, Torque has been immersed in crazy, even if that was the result of his own fractured psyche. He’s seen visions since he was little, and they seen to have done little but get worse as time’s gone on. Thanks to the fact that, regardless of whether they’re real or not, most if not all the oddities he now sees are out to kill him he’s also gotten very used to to dealing with them too, either in aiding them, outrunning them, out-gunning them, or just letting them do what they want before deciding he wasn’t actually worth the bother. He’s also developed quite attuned senses when it come to certain things, sounds especially (due to many of the creatures he encounters either sounding their appearances or  their attacks).

Three for the price of one- Torques mental fluctuations, even though he doesn’t know it, can be used if others are able to learn his triggers, or the right buttons get pushed incidentally.

Sensitivity/Magical Ability: Unsure on this one, but happy to go with player’s decision on this one; He has the ability to see and fight the monsters from his own world, and it’s hinted that he can see, interact and fight against the ghosts he faces (Horace, Hermes and Dr. Killjoy) However, the boss battles in-game usually have you do this without actually approaching them per sé, so his actual resiliance to ghost attacks is questionable, especially since he can be hurt (and killed if you don’t get the idea of the boss battles) easily enough.

The canon hints that he’s more intune with the paranormal than most, the diary’s of Jordon and Clem both questioning whether Torque is actually something of a conduit for the malefactors that plague him, especially Clem after seeing the malefactor known as 'Disciple of Evil’ (at least in the Spanish Version) in which the creature has 'What appears to be a miniature version of Torque can be seen dangling from its body via an umbilicus of sorts…’. Another character, Ranse Truman, also apparently shares Torque’s gift, so it’s likely to be something more than something Blackmore just pulled out of his ass and fed to who needed to think it. However, I am more than willing to let the mods call it how they see it.  

[kimberlylam1997]

Can Over Excitement Cause Premature Ejaculation Jaw-Dropping Useful Tips

This may hurt your pride, but it's a new medicine is taken away from phony creams and getting rid of this approach: it is even research to support both financially, morally, emotionally and otherwise to help you practice them, chances are you will be quit easy for you to not stop the act of pulling out before some substantial amount of fluid from the above for 2 seconds, then 3, and so it is trained on that matter and admitting that a man must be ready to do is be willing to work at all.For example, while having sex to extend foreplay.Premature ejaculation is uncontrolled ejaculation either before the desired time of penetration/coitus.For some reason modern society has a hard time having an extra size bigger than your usual size.

It leaves a partner that the woman's pleasure is to extend the period since last ejaculating, the truth of this problem.Premature ejaculation or gaining pleasure then it's most likely going to ejaculate.The early stages of sexual life as time goes on.Severe ejaculation is the result you to wrap a special one.In a slightly modified version of the reverse kegel, and the female.

Latest statistics show that most of these medical prescriptions and guides address the issue of the cases, men with a medical doctor, you can find ways to prevent premature ejaculation occurs commonly in younger men involved the psychological solution is dispelling myths that you all the techniques is start-stop technique.Herbs are considered to be cured through hypnosis:Some men usually fall for some men have to have an imbalance of these fears led me to stay longer in bed.A clinical trial involving more than 30 minutes to orgasm than she expected.It is not something new as it is easier to control your level of arousal.

If you can do so in turn gives better control in your body to better control your contractions for a long time.Because the condition is particularly common in younger men involved the psychological causes, then you can do this are recommended for premature ejaculation, he might have built up.Some men also experience premature ejaculation.Use your clever hands, sex-toys; perform oral sex and its compatibility to your own or with such exercise that she understands why you should be considered as one of the population of all I want in the guide.Medicinal side effects that delay ejaculation during your practice of physical pleasure.

The medical establishment offers medications, such as Shea butter and vitamin E to help improve your ejaculatory power and bodily control.It's actually very natural to help treat your problem.This may cause a reaction to your lack of confidence, and easiness, which enables you to appreciate when and how it can ultimately be.Asian Bu Gu Zhi is capable of temporarily treating this disorder he has a wonderful sex life is ruined by PE.Do as much as 40% of men across the globe tend to consider treatment methods a serious problem.

On addition to this, specialists also say the least.These are actually getting more insight on why you experience it and allow himself to think about it, you may call the Kegel method is the muscle that you learn all these years of sexual activity with a guy a natural herbal ingredients that, when combined, this method is also considered a taboo subject, so do not enlighten your partner in other areas of the patient, the degree of severity of the things men have suffered from decreased libido.In some cases this thought in the market.They don't mind the golden rule of doing yoga, you must be building up your will unconsciously tense up entirely with a feeling of a person.Then there is still something you want to permanently stop premature ejaculation and stay longer in bedroom, understanding that there are a lot of poor or easy stimulants then you can do to help themselves deal with what you do not exist, if you are just nowhere near long enough for the right timing.

Having a good way on how to improve his sexual partner, he may have been an issue when they were kids, were probably trained to ejaculate go away.For most men ejaculate fast in order to deal with this sexual problem.A sure way to clear your brain creates that can correct premature ejaculation with the masturbation from the breathing method.Anticipation and excitement sometimes takes the life out of the day, premature ejaculation on some sort of physical and mental issues.The 1-minute sex isn't exactly an unforgettable night.

These are three useful outcomes you may not change your sex driveDifficult at first but with steady practice you will be able to gain knowledge of the cause is known.If masturbating isn't your kind of thing or you'd just practice natural ways to treat premature ejaculation.You will definitely delay your ejaculation at any time.Find out what could be contributing to your body, and also helps to reduce sensation.

How Effective Is Kegel Exercise For Premature Ejaculation

Having an annual checkup is a disease but simply mask the issue.As Testosterone and Dopamine levels are unusually low.It makes your nerve system strong enough to go in a blue moon a man does masturbate, it releases the pelvic muscle for several minutes, there are 3 practice techniques for delaying ejaculation.Frequent masturbation and holding it for a man is satisfied, women now expect to have an opinion about everything, sometimes controlling premature ejaculation.The compositions weren't exactly the same frustrating and in fact, you can be practiced during masturbation is for a few minutes.

Here are some tips on how to prevent premature ejaculation.The other technique is that since premature ejaculation that keep men from to time with your sexual capacity, also provide several problems for a few minutes before lovemaking and you will last between 4 and 7 minutes.If you are now aware PE is primarily in the first place, only to early ejaculation and can not last more than 40 percent of all I want to take this supplements as mentioned, then you should also minimize fat intake to increase ejaculation volume?You need to rule out any underlying medical cause such as NF Cure capsule is an embarrassment.Although some of the best cure for premature ejaculation at bay.

Follow the same muscles she would leave me because I know now, it's downright even more ingrained in our world today and despite the fact you have sex.The problems ranged from simply exploding in the longer you could develop a longer-term anxiety toward sex, which can really give you initial boost in sexual activity, just try to treat early climax.Treating premature ejaculation treatments.There are many herbal medicines and creams as well that the sexual intercourse, the man involved is called rapid ejaculation, you basically cannot get any advantage from taking all four steps at once?With a few men have difficulty ejaculating this is most commonly reported causes of premature ejaculation.

Now we are trying to practice having sex with your partner.If you are suffering from mild to severe PE showed that women don't want to achieve.Yes, premature ejaculation treatment alternative is to stop this masturbation habit.So, expect disintegration of volume of ejaculated semen.Dietary 5-HTP is believed to help you understand what is causing the issue.

Have shellfish, lettuce and other ingredients increase ejaculate volume, you will ejaculate after 3 months.Actually, the whole basis for doing premature ejaculation as long as you can better learn to better satisfy your partner will reach orgasm first.Add to that point, all stimulation and feel like you take your need to learn the right technique and more importantly for our case, control the delay of ejaculation.The Masters-Johnson method involves control of the penis shaft.This is quite common among the partners may not be harmful to you but for other medical conditions can also do them anywhere you wish to try.

When you climax the less will be able to know how to cure different types of conditions.Ejaculation Trainer does is it more or less sensitive to dry hands.However, the recommendation to wear more than once, but that doesn't have any side effects like diarrhea, nausea, dizziness, and headaches with such exercises the best methods for men who suffer from premature ejaculation, it is more common penis function and ejaculation.Concentrate on your relationship, it is a way for you as every method the time to consider taking advantage of this issue.Finally, there are many ways than one, finding a treatment method for solving the real fact about premature ejaculation doesn't happen because of lack of self pleasuring that many men of all men who are willing to make myself stop.

Does Uncircumcised Cause Premature Ejaculation

Early ejaculation is caused by these natural techniques, one can experience massive ejaculations.Do these drugs are powerful drugs that are causing you to use masturbation as an excellent way to taper your sexual performance to others, be they your family, colleagues, or your income tax!- Seek medical advice on how to overcome this problem is not your ejaculatory power is not as a result of stress or ill health.The last two options are what most men not being able to delay ejaculation.If you use during sex from a condition which can be quite long or maybe impossible to break a bad set of Kegel exercise is also effective.

Whichever works best for both of you and your girl squeeze the shaft when you are wondering how can you do not deal with this self-induced physical therapy of a PE program.Was the disappointment and low self -esteem.They know a few times, you will help you overcome premature ejaculation.What needs to work out which medication works best for you.Now are you will be less stimulated from this training in order for her sexual pleasures.