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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Pomegranate Seeds 3

well we got some BIG projecting going on here. if yall didn’t know i had mommy issues before, you sure as fuck do now 😂😂😂

Warnings: insecure Jask, allusions to verbally abusive/manipulative parents, lmao rebellious jask, good ole miscommunication between jask and geralt - but solved quickly, lol swearing

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Letter after letter reached Jaskier in the underworld, and time after time, he destroyed them. He didn’t tell Geralt, telling himself it was because the ruler of the underworld had more important things to deal with. He didn’t want to admit he was scared Geralt would send him packing.

Eventually, Demeter resorted to threats. Threats of famine that she followed through on. She underestimated just how like her Jaskier was, though. He didn’t dignify her tantrum with a response.

When she sent messengers, he started to worry.

He told Charon to alert him, not Geralt, if another god or goddess came to visit, even one of the more senior demigods. He didn’t want to take any chances. Geralt didn’t need to know anyway.

But Geralt noticed something was off.

Jaskier would say he was tired, or he couldn’t perfect a specific verse of the song he was writing. Usually it worked, but it was only ever a salve, never a cure, for Geralt’s suspicions.

“What’s wrong, love?” Geralt cradled him in his lap, lounging in the now lavish courtyard under the pomegranate tree Jaskier had brought back from the brink of death.

Jaskier nuzzled closer, “I’m just ti-”

“No, I asked you what’s wrong,” Geralt insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze and placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier lied, hoping the sigh he accidentally let slip didn’t register, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Geralt hummed and went quiet for a moment before he curled a bit tighter around Jaskier and whispered, “Do you want to go home?”

Jaskier scrambled up, sputtering and terrified, “Did she get to you?!” When Geralt just looked at him with an unreadable expression he started to panic, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “Don’t send me back. Please, Geralt. Anything but that.”

“I’d never,” Geralt soothed, standing and hesitantly reaching for Jaskier’s hand.

He eyed the offer warily, sniffing and trying to calm himself, “Then why would you say that?”

“I thought you were unhappy. You’ve been… acting strange.”

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s outstretched hand, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt’s torso and bury his face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. It’s just, uhm. I’m just a bit off.”

Geralt instinctively held him tighter, “Jaskier I want you to be happy, not ‘better’.”

Jaskier just hummed, swallowing back his unshed tears.

“Who were you talking about?”

For a moment, Jaskier had to remind himself to breathe before he could respond, “Hm?”

“You asked if someone had ‘gotten’ to me?”

Tears spilled regardless of Jaskier’s best efforts, “My mother. She wants me to come back. She’s been sending letters and messengers.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“Never,” Jaskier insisted, “This is the most freedom I've ever had. I don’t have to hide in the treetops to feel any sense of calm, I get to make decisions, I make things grow when I want, for whom I want.”

Geralt ran a hand over his hair, resting it at the base of his skull and brushing his thumb through the little hairs behind his ear, “You don’t ever have to leave. I love you. I want you here.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier whispered, “I’m just scared.”

Geralt gently pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes, “There’s a way you could stay forever…”

The hopeful glint in his eyes told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he continued, “If you eat even one pomegranate seed you will be tethered to the underworld. You can stay and do whatever pleases you. But it is irreversible. One bite and your fate is forever tied to this place.”

Jaskier thought about it for a moment, searching Geralt’s eyes for something, anything, that could make the decision for him, “I could never leave?”

“Only if the both of us willed it and only for a short time,” Geralt explained, tenderly wiping his tears away, “I could never keep you here if you were miserable. Try as I might to think about anything else, your happiness consumes much of my thoughts.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s touch, turning his head to kiss his palm, “Do I need to decide right now?”

Geralt kissed his forehead, “Of course not. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, curling his fingers around the robes cascading down Geralt’s back, “I like it - the idea. I just… I want to take my time?”

“Absolutely.”

Time wasn’t something Jaskier was allowed apparently.

The two of them were just climbing out of a lovely bath when a chattering skeleton announced the arrival of a visitor.

Demeter stood in the throne room with her back turned to them, examining one of the glowing diamonds when they entered. She looked so small, almost insignificant. Her hair was in an intricate braid, she wore a cream toga, adorned with gold that made her look more like a savior than the horror she really was.

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly and pulled them to a halt, knowing very well Demeter wanted him to speak first. It was a stand off he was familiar with. If he spoke first she had the upper hand, hearing his tone and picking apart his words. She always knew how particular her son was with words.

“Julek. It’s time to go.”

Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she calmly stated her order, not even bothering to turn and look at him.

Jaskier took a deep breath and squeezed Geralt’s hand, not looking at him for fear of crying, “No.”

“Playtime is over. You have duties. The humans did not prepare for you to leave. They’re calling it winter,” she snorted as if the idea was as ridiculous as standing on your head in a temple.

Jaskier grit his teeth, feeling the rage bubble up in his chest, “I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” She rounded on him with a condescending look of disappointment, “It doesn’t matter if you care. They’re still your responsibility.”

Jaskier took a step forward, “A responsibility you assigned me. You fixed it before, fix it now.”

“I cant.”

“Tough shit.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how any of his words were coming out without sounding absolutely hysterical, but he was glad for it. He glared at her, daring her to try again while internally he was scrambling for a plan.

“For this particular magic, I need you. Seasons will take more work than a year round harvest, but you have set them off nonetheless.” Demeter’s voice was softer than usual, though Jaskier didn’t miss the incincerity of her words. She’d raised him. He knew her, probably better than she knew herself for all the introspection she refused to take part in, and he knew she was playing games.

"Oh? Are you no longer capable?" Jaskier laughed bitterly as he turned to walk toward the courtyard, "The great goddess of plenty and harvest can't sustain what she's built? Unfortunate. I am good at what I do here. I am so good at caring about the souls that end up in our audience-"

"Our!?"

"DONT interrupt me," Jaskier shouted, turned and stomped his heel into the ground making vines burst forth from the marble beneath them, wrapping around Demeter's waist and mouth, "I have also found I'm rather adept at torture when necessary. I love it down here! I love being able to right wrongs and show the righteous to Elysium. I love having a purpose to my actions, not just being someone's unappreciated trophy! And I love Geralt. He treats me so well and loves me so sweetly and wants only to make me happy. Nothing about your 'seasons' and 'bringing life' interests me in the slightest, Demeter. Because that's not who I am. I am rage and justice and I am to be feared, not manipulated. Take your failing crops and go." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and the vines disappeared back into the ground.

Without looking back, he strode toward the pomegranate tree in the center of the garden, plucking a fruit from the nearest branch and turning to glare at his mother. Geralt was hot on his heels, glancing between the two but keeping quiet. Jaskier had told him he wanted to confront her himself, without her thinking he’d been told what to say. So Geralt stood by and seethed.

Jaskier pulled a knife from the holster in Geralt’s belt and sliced a nice section out of the pomegranate.

“Don’t you dare.” Demeter snarled, standing at the edge of the courtyard.

Jaskier smirked and peeled the white fiber from the blood red seeds with a casual sigh, “I don’t think your opinion matters much here.”

Jaskier flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade, maintaining eye contact with Demeter as he handed it back to Geralt.

“Are you sure?” Geralt’s voice was just a whisper as he took the blade.

Jaskier picked a particularly dark red seed from it’s home and turned to look at him, “There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

With that he popped the seed in his mouth.

#geraskier #geraskier greek mythology au #geraskier greek mythology #geralt as hades #jaskier as persephone #hades and persephone #geraskier fic #geraskier au #the witcher fic #the witcher au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #jask #jullian alfred pankratz #god i wish i had a greek god sugar daddy to live with like jask so i could throw down like this #but alas #i live in reality

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ladyblogger-margie · 4 years ago

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Traitor

Pairing: Mobius M Mobius x Loki (MCU)

Summary: The Loki Variants are captured and Mobius battles his personal versus professional feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of bondage kind of?? A little angsty

Word Count: 1788

a/n: thanks to this post by @pietro-maximoff I have been listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo and thinking about Lokius non-stop. This fic is what came out of that obsessing. Also I wrote it before Episode 3 aired.

MY MASTERLIST

Mobius heard the alarms blaring and didn’t flinch. It had been set off so many times lately, it had lost all impact. This time though, Casey came flying through the halls of the TVA and skidded to an abrupt halt next to Mobius’ cubicle.

“We found him,” Casey panted.

“Who?” Mobius asked, fearful to get his hopes up.

“The Loki variant,” Casey explained, his hands on his knees.

“You may need to be more specific, there are several,” Mobius said, as he stood and led Casey back where he came from.

“The variant, your variant,” Casey said, jogging to keep up.

Casey’s words rang in Mobius’ brain. Apparently everyone could see how he felt about Loki, well except Loki. If Loki knew, he wouldn’t have ran off, or at least Mobius desperately hoped that was the case. The alternative was too gut wrenching to consider with everything else going to shit.

Mobius had called out for Loki, begging him not to leave, but he went through the door anyway leaving Mobius behind. Loki had looked at him, but gave him nothing but an empty glance before he turned his back and ran to join the Loki Variant they were supposed to be chasing together.

Now Casey was explaining how both Loki’s were now surrounded and Mobius needed to get there immediately. He was trying to keep his focus professional and stuff down the longing rising in his chest, a longing that would not do him a single lick of good.

Suddenly Mobius turned a corner and saw the Hunters in position by the Time Door. He didn’t slow down as he gestured for them to breach the door and he was right in their midst as they arrived on the scene.

Lady Loki sat with her eyes rolling tied up and contained, clearly annoyed, bored, as well as plotting. Mobius knew Loki well enough to know that she wasn’t truly as subdued as she appeared on the surface. The other Loki, the one in the TVA Variant jacket, was looking extremely put out with a collar back around his slender throat and his wrists in cuffs.

Mobius banished his first thought in favor of the professional thoughts that followed.

“We’ve apprehended the variants. Let’s reset this one here first,” he said, pointing to Lady Loki.

The other Loki was desperately trying to make eye contact with Mobius, but Mobius turned his back to him.

This was his first mistake. Loki slipped in behind him so close that Mobius felt that taller man’s breath against his neck and he suppressed a shiver.

“I did it, I captured the Variant,” Loki bragged, his tone smug, “But these fools arrested me in the process of turning her into the proper authorities.”

Mobius caught the indignation in Loki’s voice at the second part and tried not to let it affect him. He was fooled before and he would not be fooled again.

“Reset her, bring this one back to headquarters,” Mobius said, still ignoring Loki, “Someone’s going to have to question him to complete the paperwork.”

Then Mobius retreated with the team completing the Variant reset, leaving a stammering Loki behind him.

“Mobius, where are you going?” Loki asked, “Mobius?”

Mobius ignored him.

After they successfully solved the Lady Loki Variant problem, Mobius returned to headquarters. He wasn’t told exactly where they had taken Loki, but he had a hunch, and until recently his hunches usually proved correct.

He found Loki in the same room he had shown Loki his role on the timeline when they first met. There Loki was heavily guarded and they had added a gag to his collection of restraints since Mobius saw him last.

“You can all go,” Mobius said, waving the hunters away, “I can handle him.”

Mobius shook the control to Loki’s collar in his hand and with minimal muttering, the Hunters filed out.

Mobius sat in a chair across the table from Loki and just looked at him. He watched as Loki squirmed and tried to speak. He watched the frustrating boil over on Loki’s face and felt guilty for watching him suffer. He thought he’d enjoy catching Loki out, but he was wrong. The image in front of him made him sick.

Mobius reached across the table and gently removed the gag from Loki’s mouth. He’d barely sprung the release when Loki began talking rapidly.

“Mobius, you have to understand,” Loki’s fast tongue clipped, “I had to go. I needed to catch the Variant. That was the plan, was it not? Use a Loki to catch a Loki.”

Mobius bit the inside of his lip, pouting them slightly as he did so, but he kept quiet.

“I know what you must be thinking, but technically I didn’t stab you in the back,” Loki said, attempting a joke.

Mobius remained silent and to his surprise he found it was making Loki look, well, nervous.

“You don’t think I left you on purpose?” Loki asked, “Why would I do that?”

Loki’s face looked so open, so vulnerable in its proposed sincerity, Mobius was almost moved. He promised to himself he wasn’t buying the trickster’s words, but unconsciously he stood and removed the rest of Loki’s restraints except the collar around his neck.

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice soft with emotion and Mobius' heart clenched. Being in close proximity with him again had Mobius on edge, so aware of his own body and Loki’s as well.

“What happened when you went through the door?” Mobius asked in a professional tone.

“I heard you calling,” Loki said, standing to stroll the room.

“I’m aware,” Mobius sighed, “You looked right at me.”

“Well I thought that meant you understood,” Loki said, his arms open wide, head cocked to the side.

“Understood what? That you’re a traitor? You betrayed me,” Mobius said. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to air his personal issues, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Variant, especially a Loki whose betrayal surely was inevitable. “I’m here to assess and record what happened after you walked out,” he said, pushing forward with his assignment.

“I didn’t betray you, I swear. Besides, isn’t paperwork and cleanup a bit beneath your pay grade? There’s got to be more to you being here than just the job,” Loki suggested with a raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t trust you with anyone else,” Mobius admitted plainly. He didn’t trust himself with Loki either, but that wasn’t the point.

“I didn’t leave you, Mobius,” Loki said, sitting back down. He reached his hands across the table to where Mobius’ were resting.

Mobius ripped his hands out of the way and stood himself, taking up Loki’s pacing position.

“I trusted you to see this through,” Mobius said, barely containing the tremble in his voice.

“But that’s just it!” Loki said, following Mobius and completely disregarding his personal space, “I did! I caught the Variant.”

Mobius studied his face, “You were captured with the Variant.”

“No!” Loki was frustrated now, his hands in his hair, “Those imbeciles showed up after I had her in custody because I was trying to call you.”

Mobius was blinking very quickly now, “But you left me, I saw you look at me and deliberately choose to abandon the team and the mission. Loki, I am trying to get to the truth here and I know that’s a foreign concept-“

Mobius was cut off mid-sentence when Loki crashed his lips against his, kissing him and shutting him up in one fell swoop. The action short-circuited Mobius' brain and he stood frozen, his lips responding on instinct alone.

Loki tasted like honey and peppermint, sweet and sharp and a little bitter, but absolutely perfect. Mobius raised a hand to Loki’s throat and in horror remembered he was still wearing his collar.

Mobius shoved Loki away abruptly. It wasn’t easy to shove a god, but the advantage of surprise granted him the space he needed.

“You really think you can play me,” Mobius said with a sad chuckle. He had to drop this idiotic fantasy - Loki could never love him the way that Mobius loved him.

“Play you? I’m trying to kiss you,” Loki said, his tone sharp.

“You’re trying to get me to take off that collar,” Mobius said with a limp gesture of his hand.

Loki’s fingers brushed across the collar almost like he forgot he was wearing it.

“So take it off and see how I act then,” Loki suggested.

Mobius actually laughed, “How thick do you think I am? I know you don’t respect me, but give me a little credit.”

“Of course I respect you, I care for you,” Loki sighed, “You’ve caught me many times before, I have no magic, and your team already confiscated my daggers, what have you got to lose?”

Loki watched Mobius with his head tilted, as Mobius squinted at him intently.

Mobius released Loki’s collar with a press of the button on the controller. Loki tossed it aside casually and he made no effort to run. Instead he moved closer to Mobius, crowding his space. Mobius held his breath as Loki inspected him intently, his crystal blue eyes tracing across Mobius’ face.

Mobius’ breath hitched as Loki kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. He felt his skin catch fire as Loki traced his thumb across his check as his tongue swept across his lower lip. Then Mobius’ resolve shattered.

Mobius yanked on Loki’s tie, wrapping it around his fist as his other hand wrapped around Loki’s waist. Mobius could feel the smile on Loki’s lips through the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile back. Loki’s hands were soft and cool and Mobius relished in the feel of them, still not entirely sure if he believed his good fortune, but too overwhelmed to care.

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Casey walked in, interrupting the kiss. Mobius flushed and jumped back in surprise, his hand still wrapped in Loki’s tie.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to - wait, what’s happening?” Casey said, obviously flustered.

“What can I help you with?” Mobius asked.

“There’s a new variant we need your help with,” Casey said, “After you reset this variant, there’s a file at your desk.”

Mobius turned to Loki and held his hand, “He’s not a variant, he’s a member of the TVA.”

Loki’s face lit up as Casey left with a shrug.

Mobius turned to Loki, and fixed his tie and collar as Loki smiled at him.

“I swear I wasn’t leaving you, I’d never do that to someone I love,” Loki said sincerely, and Mobius believed him so he kissed him, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

#lokius #mobius x loki #loki x mobius #loki series #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #I care about these two A WHOLE LOT

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limeadeislife · 3 years ago

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It's so messed up that I literally have a minor in economics from college, like I took five econ classes and did well enough on the tests and everything to pass all of them, but I seemingly forgot almost everything I learned in the entire minor the second my last semester ended.

(I mean, I remember basic concepts like comparative advantage, externalities, economies of scale, etc. And I have vague images in my brain of a supply curve and a demand curve, although without looking it up I only kind of remember what they are. But more or less everything beyond that level is gone)

So I don't feel like I understand economics any better than other people I come into contact with; sometimes I feel like I understand it less. People will talk about the Fed and interest rates and whatnot and my brain will still go "oh that's complicated adult stuff I'm never really gonna understand"

To be fair, one of those five classes was a statistics class that I don't think actually had much, if anything, to do with econ. The other four were intro to micro, intro to macro, micro theory, and... I had to check my transcript just now because I genuinely couldn't remember what the other one was, but apparently I took one called "the global economy" senior year. Now I can remember what building it was in and who the professor was (same one as intro macro), and vague snippets of him jokingly talking about how American movies make a lot of money worldwide, but nothing else about the actual content of the class

Maybe it's normal to not remember details from classes you took 5+ years ago? But I remember at least something from most of the other classes I took in college. So maybe this is just a sign that I personally find economics mostly boring as a subject, but decided to dedicate a significant part of my college career to minoring in it anyway, for some reason.

I think it might have had something to do with the fact that I was an environmental studies major, and had a sense that understanding economics was important for knowing how to solve environmental issues (which I still think is true!). I didn't want want to be one of those infamous Economically Illiterate Environmentalists. To which I guess I have to say now, well folks, I tried

#college is weird #economics #and to be clear i am not trying to say econ is boring in general!#just that the way it was presented in that college environment #was not a good fit for the type of subjects my brain gets interested in

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jazzypizzaz · 3 years ago

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PHEW!!! finally finished that last chapter. I was drawing it out, savoring, even though the book was already doing that for me haha, dragging along haha. the peacefalls were pretty indulgent, in the best way though, wrapping everything up in a perhaps overly optimistic view of how they expect their future to unfold...

I'm mostly okay with it??

[[READ MORE]]

JEDD is MASON, but shares it, is the Brillist stem but never headmaster, rejects offices in other Hives. hate that everyone had to agree they're okay with him becoming dictator, more or less, before he could fill a more proper role, but sure whatever.

I really like how the change to every out-of-control Hive was how to share their best assets with the rest of humanity, and that this connection/sharing then serves as a check on their own worst tendencies. except for Humanists apparently, whose both worst tendency and greatest asset is being human ksjdhgsgs. Like I'm basking in the afterglow buuuut I'm optimistic. maybe they're on their way to a better world. maybe.

most controversial is Utopia's sentence of course... I will never be comfortable with Mason power in particular but the way that Mason megalomania is checked by giving up some of their trappings of empire helps at least, plus the now public oath pledging them to away-follow, that helps. of anyone to be able to hold Utopia accountable for their resources & what they're doing with it, Mason is most able to back up that threat, although I worry that Mason will see harbringers where Utopia intends only tools for exploration. there's a lot of crossover, anything powerful enough to traverse & survive space can probably double as a secret weapon easily. I love Utopia, and honestly in this war they did nothing wrong imo, but no small cult faction should command sole control of the majority of humanity's resources.

ALSO I still want more formal partnership between Utopia and Mitsubishi!!! once Mars is a garden, it refers to humanity under Mason hands? (I forget) but this is an instance where Mitsubishi institutionalized focus on land stewardship would be useful, and would serve as a balance to Mason.

although I still don't see how this prevents Utopia from dying out... I mean I think there will always be people wanting to strive out of comfort and explore, I think it's human nature, but it does have to be actively cultivated in is I think. there was something about how the resurrection thing will help solve this issue??? I don't understand, gotta reread I guess, BUT then again I'm still actively against resurrection/immortality as a concept so.

ummmm anyway I was enjoying the sentimentality and indulgence of everything AND THEN FUCKING JEDD AGAIN TALKING ABOUT UTOPIA!!! their first goal is friendship!!!!!!!! not power not empire (ugh why is anyone Mason tbh) BUT FRIENDSHIP CONNECTION KINDNESS and that's why they're who they are, why JEDD is encouraging them in particular towards next contact.

THAT'S WHAT LIFE IS ABOUT! CONTACT! CONNECTION! breaking out of your cozy little bubble, your safe insular community, your own inner space, AND REACHING OUT!!!! even when it's hard, especially when it's hard, that's what makes it all worth it, THAT'S WHAT HUMANITY IS ABOUT aaahhhh... and now that's what every Hive has remade itself to try to cultivate, with Utopia as its best future 😭😭😭. catch me all choked up again crying on my ereader goddamn it. it's very star trek. I love it so much and my heart feels so big.

#terra ignota #perhaps the stars spoilers #perhaps the stars

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

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Entry, Descent and Landing

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, time loop, 6k, rated M

Also on AO3

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs, entering the mess with a scowl on his face. He's clearly personally offended by this turn of events.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll fix it.” John currently has more pressing issues to consider, like whether he can reasonably have fruit loops for lunch or whether he should eat some vegetables like an adult.

He picks up the fruit loops.

“I’m serious!” Rodney is all fidgety, talking and waving his hands instead of eating, and that’s never a good sign. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

John raises an eyebrow. It’s not often that McKay admits there’s something he doesn’t understand. And without the gate, they are vulnerable.

Regretfully, he puts the fruit loops back. “Alright. Why don’t you show me what the problem is?”

The gate will accept an address, and it spins and dials as normal. But when it should open a wormhole with a whoosh and a ripple of blue light, it simply stops dead. The lights fade out and it shuts itself off.

Huh.

“It’s been like this since we tried to dial New Athos for a check in.” A frown creases Rodney’s forehead. “Hand me that scanner, will you?”

They spend the day poking and prodding at the gate and the control consoles - or, more accurately, Rodney pokes and John swings his legs off the side of the console and provides unhelpful but, he thinks, amusing commentary - but there’s nothing to indicate a problem. No fried circuits, no missing components, none of the usual error warnings which appear when the gate runs into a problem. It just… doesn’t work.

They work through the afternoon, and by the time eight p.m. rolls around John is ready to call it a night and start again tomorrow. But before he can suggest they get some dinner, the gate whirs to life and begins to dial.

“Did you do that?” he asks Rodney, but he already knows the answer is no by the look of confusion on Rodney’s face.

The gate spins as if to dial but it doesn’t connect. It merely sits there, illuminated but inactive, and then -

John wakes up in his quarters.

That’s weird. He’s disoriented, and woozy, and he feels a headache creeping at the back of his skull.

He shakes it off. He probably just needs some food. He heads to the mess and is sitting down to eat when -

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs.

John squints at him. “Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Rodney waves him aside impatiently. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

A cold chill settles at the bottom of John’s stomach. “I know, Rodney. We had this conversation yesterday.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we didn’t. The gate only stopped working today.”

Rodney insists that he has no memory of the gate breaking, and neither does anyone else they talk to. It's like the previous day has simply disappeared.

The more he insists that he remembers it, the more Rodney turns from dismissive to concerned, until he marches him down to see Carson and okay, that's not the worst idea under the circumstances.

Carson checks him over, determines he's physically fine, and tells him it's probably just déjà vu. But that can't be right. It was so real.

Rodney keeps shooting him these worried looks, and that's definitely not helping. So he brushes it off and suggests they get back to fixing the gate. It is, after all, still broken.

They spend another few hours on that, opening up the consoles in the gate room and looking for any faulty hardware. Soon enough it's dinner time, and he's going to suggest heading to the mess when the gate spins up again, and oh shit -

He wakes up in his quarters. He frantically scrambles for his watch and sees that it reads two p.m.

This is definitely not déjà vu.

He heads straight to the gate room. The gate techs are antsy.

"Sheppard, you're here, good." Rodney enters, a tablet tucked under one arm. “We've got a problem. The gate’s not working."

They try to fix the gate again, with no more success than the last two attempts. John keeps checking his watch.

Maybe it's different now. Maybe he's changed enough to stop the day repeating.

At exactly right p.m., his sunny, perhaps delusional, optimism is shattered.

The gate starts dialing.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He sends Rodney off to consult with Zelenka and takes matters into his own hands.

He tries everything he can think of to dial the gate - dialing different addresses, dialing it at different times, even removing and replacing the control crystal in his famed “turn it off and turn it on again” approach to computer repair - but nothing works.

He tries taking a puddle jumper and flying out to the mainland, and into space, and as far around the planet as he can get. No matter how far he travels, at exactly eight p.m. he resets and wakes up back in his quarters.

Six hours is simply not enough time to solve whatever the hell is going on here

He tries explaining his situation to Elizabeth, to Teyla and Ronon, to Lorne, to Carson. Even when people are willing to entertain the notion of a time loop, no one knows how to address the problem, let alone suggest a solution. At best, they seem to be humoring him. At worst, they seem to think it’s his apparently inevitable slide into paranoia.

After trying everyone on the base he has even a passing relationship with, he gives up telling anyone. They can’t help him.

He overrides the city’s power usage limits and tries to dial up Earth. The gate still won’t dial, and he overloads the ZPM, and the entire city is plunged into darkness.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He used to love it here, his own little corner of the strange place that is his home. Now it feels like a prison.

He tries to make contact with the Athosians, or with the Manarians, or even with the Genii. But without the gate, his radio transmissions will take years to reach them. He sits by the radio anyway, listening to the crackling static and waiting for a reply he knows will never come.

Maybe he's trapped in a virtual reality, or his mind is being probed by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe none of this is real.

He stands on one of the city’s most distant piers, staring out into the ocean. It’s quiet here, now he’s turned off his radio and tweaked the lifesigns detector so it can’t track him. He watches the waves, the same today as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He considers his options.

He puts a gun to his temple and counts down from five.

He wakes up in his quarters.

He bangs on the lab door and tries one more time to convince Rodney to help him.

“A time loop is not impossible,” he grits out. “It happened at the SGC.” He knows Rodney has read the file.

“That’s because there was an Ancient artifact involved.” Rodney sounds haughty. “Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?”

John breathes between clenched teeth and shakes his head.

“So. Time just spontaneously started resetting itself, did it?”

“How should I know? All I know is that I have woken up in my quarters a hundred times by now, and every day at eight p.m. the loop resets itself.”

“Why are you the only one this is happening to?”

“I don’t know!” he yells. “I have no idea what terrible sin I’m being punished for here! I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but nothing that deserves this.”

Rodney stops moving and looks at him -- really looks.

“Jesus, Sheppard.” Rodney’s brow creases. “You’re not okay, are you?”

John slumps. He can’t summon the energy to deny it. “Not even remotely.”

For some reason, this seems to be what pushes Rodney into taking him seriously. He nods, once, sharply. “What can I do to help?”

He looks at his watch. It’s ten minutes to eight.

“Tell me a secret,” he says.

Rodney gives him a disdainful look. “What is this, a tween girls’ slumber party?”

He grits his teeth. “I spent the entire day trying to convince you what’s happening to me is real. I don’t have time to do that every loop. I need you to tell me something no one else knows, so next time I can convince you I’m not crazy or playing around and we can fix this.”

He sees Rodney’s mind working. He can tell he knows John is right and he’s considering options of what to tell him: details about his childhood, his research, his time here on Atlantis, and discarding each one. For all his faults, Rodney does not dissemble. His life is an open book, and for this to work John needs to know something truly private.

“Alright,” Rodney says eventually. He tilts his chin up and straightens his shoulders like he’s bracing himself for incoming fire. “When I was fifteen, there was a boy at school a couple of years older than me. His name was Mikey Haynes.”

“Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?” Rodney asks with the same look of superiority he always has. “Because that’s the only way-”

“McKay,” he interrupts.

“- and why would you be the only one affected, that doesn’t make sense-”

“Rodney!”

Rodney stops. Something in the tone of his voice has broken through.

“I know about Mikey Haynes,” he says.

Rodney goes very pale and John can feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“How do you know that name?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because you told me, Rodney. In the last loop.”

For a few seconds Rodney stares at him, eyes wild and arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Eventually he gives one, sharp nod.

“Alright. You’re stuck in a time loop. What are we going to do about it?”

He has that conversation with Rodney every single loop. It is, without exception, the worst part of each one. Even feeling himself die wasn’t this awful.

He and Rodney have run every test they can think of. He’s been subjected to medical tests and genetic tests, they’ve scanned him for nanites and viruses and alien mind control, and they’ve turned up nothing. He is, by all accounts, completely healthy -- other than the fact he’s reliving the same six hours over and over and over and over.

“Maybe the problem isn’t with me,” he says. He chews over the idea and it seems plausible. “Maybe the problem is with the city.”

“What?”

“What if I’m not the one being looped through time? What if you are, and I’m the only one who’s aware of it?”

“So you’re sane and everyone else is crazy?”

“Yes.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe my ATA gene gives me some protection against the effect, I don’t know.”

“Your magic genetics strike again.”

He ignores the griping. “If I’m right, the problem is even worse than I thought. The whole city, even the whole planet could be stuck in the loop. What’s happening to our allies while we’re stuck? How far have the Wraith advanced across this galaxy without us to keep them in check.”

Rodney swallows, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

“There must be a clue in the city sensors,” he says, pushing bits of drone aside to access the whiteboard in his lab. “If the reset is at the same time, there might be a preceding energy burst we can detect.”

“What good will that do?” John is too tired to think straight. “I know when the loop is going to reset.”

“Because if we know what type of energy it is, we can understand what’s causing it.”

John throws up his hands. Sure, why not. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything.

Rodney pokes through the sensor data, making little hmm noises which he finds unreasonably aggravating.

“See!” Rodney has his smuggest expression on, the one that simultaneously says I told you so and I know you find me charming. “Here, just before the gate failed to connect, there’s a small anomaly in the readings. It looks like… Interesting. It looks like ionizing radiation.”

“What does that mean?”

Rodney’s brow creases. “I’m not sure. There’s a spike of gamma and X-rays as the gate tries to connect. But I have no idea what the source is.”

John barely has time to let out a frustrated breath before the loop resets.

He hurries back to Rodney’s lab and points him to the sensor data.

“Interesting,” Rodney says again. “It looks like ionizing radiation.”

John exhales. “Yeah. You said that last time.”

He doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. His body resets with every loop. And yet, his mind has frayed. He hasn’t rested in so long, his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

He takes a loop off. He goes to the gym and spars with Ronon. His muscles are fresh but his strategy is a disaster; Ronon unsurprisingly wipes the floor with him. All the same, it feels good to stretch and move; to worry about avoiding a flying elbow instead of his sorry fate for a while.

Then he has dinner with Teyla. He doesn’t know how many loops it’s been since he ate, and even though he doesn’t need the sustenance he realizes he has been missing the sensory experience of it, and the camaraderie of a shared meal.

He tells Teyla about the time loop, casually, like it’s not a big deal, and she doesn’t seem convinced he’s telling the truth but she doesn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand either, and he loves her for that.

“If that were the case,” her head tilts to one side, thoughtful, “it would be a kind of opportunity, would it not?”

He squints. Nothing about this feels opportune.

“If time were to always reset itself, you could do anything you wish, without having to consider the consequences.” She shrugs. “Many have wished for such a chance.”

Huh. He never thought about it that way before.

Next loop, he steals a jumper and takes it for a joyride, zipping away from Atlantis and out into the solar system.

He pulls a reckless slingshot maneuver around the third planet out and is sent hurtling toward the star at the heart of the system, traveling so fast the jumper shakes and rattles even with the inertial dampeners. Elizabeth screams at him over the comms and he flips them off.

He approaches the sun at breakneck speed and the temperature in the cabin begins to rise. He swoops low into the sun’s corona, arcs of plasma leaping up around him, even more wild and ferocious than he expected. The sensors scream out warnings about hull temperature and radiation levels and he ignores them, absorbed in the way the jumper dives and banks.

He plunges closer, seeing the star’s surface bubble and erupt, then pulls up in a wild loop and swings down closer still: through the corona and into the chromosphere, the space around him transformed into wild hues of pink, shot through with filaments of white hot gas which snap and twist around him.

In the moment before the jumper is destroyed, as alarms blare and the air rushes out through cracks in the hull, his vision is filled with the surface of the sun. It is entrancing, covered in cells of red and orange and yellow, molten and changing and blindingly, blindingly bright.

He records a message for his father and uploads it to the queue to be sent back to Earth. “Dad,” he begins. “I want you to tell you something, something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time. From the very bottom of my heart: Go fuck yourself.”

He knows it’ll be heard by the gate techs, if not the entire expedition. That somehow makes it even more satisfying.

He finds Cadman.

“You’re an explosives expert, right?”

“Technically it’s high temperature and energetic materials technology,” she grins, “but close enough.”

“Awesome. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know. The really fun explosives they don’t let the field teams use.”

“Oh, that good stuff. Right this way.”

They spend an afternoon testing the structural integrity of the city’s farthest piers (not as good as you might think), seeing what happens when you strap C4 to a naquadah generator (an extremely large explosion), and enjoying the simple pleasures of tossing prototype grenades into the ocean (the water sprays rainbows across the sky as it is thrown miles into the air, and it falls on them like rain as they laugh).

Cadman barely needs any convincing.

He tells Lorne that he’s gay. Lorne doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir,” he says, entirely unperturbed. “I figured.”

He leaves a message for Nancy.

He tells her he’s sorry, that he knows he was a bad husband, that it wasn’t fair the way he treated her. He tells her that she deserved better, that he wishes her well, that he hopes she’s happy, and he means it.

He feels lighter the moment he's finished. He wonders why he never did this before the loop.

He’s struck by a genius idea, and he busts open a few locks and drags the ascension machine out of storage. Sure, it nearly killed Rodney, but maybe he’ll get lucky. Nothing to lose at this point, right?

The moment the light envelops him, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

Within minutes his skin is peeling away to reveal hard, blue scales beneath. The sunlight becomes unbearable. He turns the lights out and feels his way by sound instead.

He doesn’t remember much beyond that. There are only brief flashes in his mind: cold metal beneath his claws, horrified screams reverberating in a corridor, the effortlessness of scuttling up the side of a tower, the crunch of bones cracking between his mandibles.

He locks himself in his quarters for a few loops after that.

After a while his guilt is outweighed by his boredom. He picks up the guitar that has been primarily decorative thus far and learns to play Folsom Prison Blues.

Time keeps dragging on, indeed.

Eventually, as seems to be inevitable, he ends up coming back to Rodney.

"Sheppard." Rodney gives him a quick nod. "What can I do for you?"

There are a million answers to that question, and none of them are appropriate for work.

He considers the juxtaposition: Rodney's cool greeting with the way he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, all coiled excitement and nervousness. That's how Rodney often is around him, now he thinks about it.

Is it interest or intimidation? Fondness or annoyance? He's never been good at parsing emotions, and that's been a frequent source of frustration. Now it's particularly acute.

"You want some coffee?" Rodney offers, like an olive branch. "I'm sure we've got a clean mug around here somewhere."

John does not want coffee.

How many times has he thought about this? Too many to count. And how many more chances will he have?

What the hell, he thinks. Teyla was right. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

He steps forward and puts a tentative hand around the back of Rodney's neck. He hears his breath catch. He rubs the soft hair there between his fingers, watches the blush rise on his cheeks. It's an enticing look.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and kisses him, uncertain even though he knows the loop will reset, because this is bigger than some silly irresponsible behavior; this is him putting his heart in Rodney's fidgety hands and hoping against hope it won't be crushed.

For a moment Rodney freezes, and John is already formulating frantic apologies when Rodney mouths, "Oh god, finally," against his lips and wraps his arms around his shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him hot and hard.

It's easy as anything to slip his hands under Rodney's thighs and to lift him onto the workbench, even while Rodney attempts to distract him by unbuttoning his shirt and biting a line along his collar bone.

He fucks Rodney over the bench in his lab, and next time on a balcony overlooking the city, and after that on Elizabeth’s desk. He learns every inch of his body; the soft plump of his thighs, the way he likes to be jerked off nice and slow, the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

For loops and loops, he does nothing else. Rodney never turns him down, not once. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’ll drop everything to be with him, and John has no idea what to make of that.

(Yes he does, but it's too big and too terrifying to look at directly, so he puts it aside.

It can wait. He has nothing but time.)

The first time he gets Rodney to fuck him, he bursts into fat, ugly tears afterwards and Rodney wraps a blanket around him and pets his hair. They stay like that for hours, Rodney holding him and for once not speaking, letting the waves of need and desperation and loneliness ebb and flow as they will, giving the simple comfort of his presence.

Sometimes he tells him about the loop, sometimes not. It doesn’t seem to make much difference to Rodney. Even when he explains nothing, just walks up to him and kisses him, Rodney kisses him back just as hungrily as ever.

And when they’re not fucking, they’re talking. He learns that Rodney has always wanted to learn to paint. He misses his cat (no, really. It’s not funny.) The one person on the base he is most afraid of is Elizabeth, because he secretly suspects she might be smarter than he is.

John tells him about why he doesn’t talk to his family, and about how out of place he always felt in the military. That he likes turkey sandwiches because they’re what his college roommate made for him when he first left home and had to learn to get by on not much money.

Each day, he learns more about Rodney and shares more about himself. And then the loop resets, and he has to walk into the lab and see Rodney regard him coolly and say, “Sheppard,” like that’s all they are to each other.

He misses him, and that sounds insane because he's spent practically every waking hour with the man for what must have been weeks. But he is moving forward and Rodney is staying still. Every time the loop resets, they drift further apart.

He stops sleeping with Rodney.

He gets back to work.

He pulls up the city sensor data and brings it to the lab.

“Here, look. You said before there was a radiation spike.”

Rodney drums his fingers against the tablet. “Yeah, there is. And it looks,” he squints, “sort of familiar.”

“What could cause that?”

“A million things. Radioactive materials. Black holes. Coronal mass ejections. Lightning, if there’s enough of it.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Something important scratches at his mind. “Coronal mass ejections, as in, from stars?”

“Yes. The magnetic fields inside a star shift as material moves in its interior, and when a prominence is formed and collapsed, the star releases a burst of plasma.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! The sun in this solar system, we know it’s periodically unstable, right? And it’s even more active than usual right now.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He thinks of the arcs of plasma he saw as he dove the jumper into the sun’s corona and decides against trying to explain that. “It’s not important. But we know the stargate has sent Earth teams through time when the wormhole passed too close to a coronal mass ejection, right? What if our stargate had the same problem?”

“That might send whoever was traveling through the gate through time, but it wouldn’t make time loop.” A light flickers in Rodney’s eyes. “Oh! Oh! Unless that’s why the gate failed. It tried to send an outgoing wormhole at the exact moment that the sun’s activity peaked. When the wormhole hit the coronal mass ejection, it bounced back to its origin, carrying its energy with it. And that would mean…” He taps frantically at his tablet. “Right! That spike of radiation is the effect of the outgoing and incoming wormholes colliding, forming a resonance wave. All that energy is forming ripples which must be throwing us through spacetime.”

“Great! So can you fix it?”

Rodney blinks. “I’m not even sure I can model what’s happening, let alone fix it. The mathematical equations alone will be weeks of work.”

“We don’t have weeks, Rodney. We have -” he checks his watch, “- just over half an hour before the loop resets and we lose everything.”

Despair starts crawling up his spine, but he shouldn’t have underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Rodney McKay.

“Well then.” Rodney sits him down and shoves a notebook and pen into his hands. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some math and help me to remember.”

This is his routine now: Wake up in his quarters, run to the lab, talk Rodney through the problem as fast as he can, get lectured on astrophysics and mathematical modelling until he feels like his head is going to explode, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

He gets the basics down quickly but there are still pages and pages of math for them to solve, and nowhere close to enough time to figure it out in one loop. So he learns, and remembers, and does his best to save himself.

Rodney explains it well when he’s not being a jerk, and John starts to understand why he likes this work.

He hasn’t done this much math since college, and it’s not as awful as he remembers. There’s a kind of beauty to it, actually, a balance of all the relevant variables quantified and described, their relationships mapped into symbols and equations, the logically clarity of a necessarily true fact.

“See, this variable here, this represents the duration of the outgoing wormhole.” Rodney taps the whiteboard. John stares at the way his hands dance over the numbers. “And this one here, this is the distance between Lantea and its sun...”

Each loop, he learns a little more. Eventually, he understands the equations Rodney has been scribbling for the past god knows how many loops.

Now they just need to actually figure out how to solve them.

“That equation is wrong.”

“What? No it isn’t. I worked that out myself.” Rodney is glaring at him like he insulted his mother.

“I’m telling you, Rodney. Look.” John uses the cuff of his shirt to wipe out a corner of the equations scribbled on the whiteboard. “This is assuming we’re still operating in base 10, but we know the gate operating system is partially in base 16.” He adds in the corrected figures as he goes. “So we need to convert it to polynomial here and here before we can compare the output to the data from our solar radiation readings, then we can figure out the coronal mass ejection’s effects on both the gate and our computers simultaneously and allow for the difference.”

Rodney is squinting at the whiteboard. “That’s… Huh. That might actually be right.” He steps closer, running his fingers beneath the figures John has changed. Then he wheels and rounds on John.

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at John’s chest. “You are a genius.”

And then he’s grabbing John’s shirt and hauling him close and kissing him, wild and messy and with great enthusiasm.

And John had told himself he wasn’t going to do this any more but this is different, Rodney had kissed him this time, and with the way Rodney’s hands are scrabbling at every piece of skin he can reach he doesn’t think he could stop himself anyway.

Afterwards, once they’ve wasted far too much of this loop to get any productive work done, John tells Rodney about all the times that they’ve done this before, and that this is the first time Rodney has been the one to instigate it.

Rodney shrugs. “What can I say? A man who knows his math really gets me going.”

John hides a smile. “You only want me for my brain, huh?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, like that’s obvious. He breaks into a grin and runs a hand through John’s hair. “And the hair, of course. That’s very important.”

“Mmhmm.” John stretches lazily across the sofa in the corner of the lab. “And the rest of me?”

Rodney gives him a sly look. “I guess that’s alright too.”

And then Rodney is giggling as John wrestles him to the sofa as well, and he’s all flying elbows and poking fingers until John gets him pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and out of breath from laughter.

Oh, thinks John. So this is what happiness feels like. He’d almost forgotten.

The loop is about to end, though this one feels different.

They're lying squashed together on the too-small sofa, inelegantly draped around each other, when Rodney takes his hand. “You have to tell me,” he says. “We’re about to reset, and once we've fixed this and I've forgotten again, you have to tell me how you feel.”

His gut churns. It’s so much simpler to be together when he doesn’t have to think about the consequences.

“Promise me,” Rodney says. “It’s not fair that I should finally get what I’ve wanted for so long, and not be able to remember it.”

He thinks about how he feels each time Rodney is reset: the loss, the ache of it. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have those experiences erased entirely.

“Okay.” He squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I promise.”

“That’s it!” Rodney beams at the whiteboard, covered from top to bottom in dense equations. “I can’t believe we got that done so fast.”

John lets out a sound that might be considered a laugh.

“Ah.” Rodney looks at him sideways. “You’ve been working on this for a while, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, good news. Now we’ve got the wormhole modeled, we can feed this data into the dialing device and reset the gate manually.”

“And that will stop the loop?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Terrific.”

John makes a conscious effort to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as Rodney loads up their data into the dialing device.

He checks his watch. It’s three minutes to eight.

This is going to work. Right? This has to work. He’s put everything he has into this fix and he honestly doesn’t know if he can cope with looping one single time more.

(He’s thought that so many times before. And yet, here he is, still, willing or not.)

“We need to get the timing just right,” Rodney informs the gate techs. He’s taken over the gate room and thankfully the entire base has learned not to get in McKay’s way when he has that steely look in his eye. “We need to engage the program at exactly the moment the incoming wormhole is set to arrive.”

Two minutes to eight. Adrenaline surges, and he wants to run or to fight, but there’s nothing he can do except watch the furrow in Rodney’s brow and the agitated tapping of his fingers against the Ancient keypad.

“Alright, Chuck, ready on my command.”

Rodney’s got this, he tells himself. They’ve got this.

One minute to eight.

“Now!” Chuck sits up straighter, focused on the instruments in front of him. Rodney taps at the keypad, attention narrowed down to the rapidly scrolling code on his screen.

The lights flicker, spluttering overhead and casting the gate room in an eerie disjointed light. The gate starts to rotate, the screeching noise louder than usual, the illuminated symbols seeming to glow more brightly.

There is a moment of absolute stillness, and then -

The whoosh of the outgoing wormhole connecting is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can get out, he can be free, he can live. He doesn't have to be alone any more.

Blood rushes to his head in great waves and makes him dizzy, like this might all be an illusion, like it might disappear at any moment.

He checks his watch. It's two minutes past eight.

He lets out a hysterical peal of laughter, staggers away from the gate controls, and passes out.

He wakes up not in his quarters. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary is the sweetest breath of fresh air.

Elizabeth insists he needs medical supervision, but there's no chance of keeping a hoard of curious scientists away from an oddity like the man who looped through time. So he's in an infirmary bed being gently grilled about the experience by Zelenka, who has apparently been elected their representative.

Elizabeth does her best to project an air of calm as she asks, "Is there any way to know how long we were looping for?"

Zelenka pushes his glasses up on the bridge of nose. "It is hard to say for certain, but extrapolating the current season based on the length of the days, we must have lost around six months."

"Six months?" Elizabeth turns to him, aghast. "John, I can't even imagine."

She means well, but he can't handle pity right now. He plays it off casually, with a wink and a smile. "Trust me, you don't want to." He swings his legs off the side of the bed and calls out to Carson. "Doc, I'm good to leave, right? Pretty sure I'm healthy as a horse, and I've given the research team plenty of material to work with."

Carson looks him over, takes in the weary lines of his shoulders, and eventually nods. He always was perceptive. "Aye, alright. But stop back in tomorrow for a checkup."

"Sure thing. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm looking forward to a well deserved night off."

He is looking forward to a night off, but the very last place he wants to wake up tomorrow is in his quarters. He'd sooner sleep on one of the piers, or in the locker room, or on a hive ship. Anywhere but there.

But there's another option. Or at least, there might be. So he finds himself fidgeting outside Rodney's door.

The door opens while he's pacing back and forth in the corridor.

"Sheppard?' Rodney blinks at him. "I was just on my way to find you. Earlier you seemed… so I thought… well, this must have been hard for you. What are you doing in the hallway?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Instead he considers.

Rodney's hair is mussed, the way it gets when he's been deep in thought and running his hands through it. His fingertips are pinching together, a hum of low-grade anxiety that surrounds him whenever he has to confront emotional situations. He's wearing an old grey hoodie, one of his favorites because it's soft, even though he thinks it makes him look dumpy (it doesn't. Or maybe it does, but it doesn't matter, because it's comfortable and warm and it smells like Rodney. John knows because he's stolen it tens of times. It's one of his favorites as well.)

John knows him, knows every part of him, and he's so close he could reach out and touch him, but he's a million miles away as well.

"... John? Do you want to come in?" Rodney's face pinches into a concerned frown. "We don't have to talk, if you'd rather not."

He could walk away. Turn on his heel and leave, never mention any of this, let the whole incident fade into obscurity. But he's so close to having what he wants: something new, something familiar, something beautiful.

He takes a breath. Here is his chance. Now or never.

"Actually, I think we should talk." He lets himself smile at the precious memory, one perfect moment crystallized like a diamond from months of crushing pressure. "I made a promise."

#stargate atlantis #mcshep #my writing

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Text

It is @veraverorum ‘s birthday today! So they get a birthday fanfic, because I love them!!

(also on AO3)

It hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s plan to visit Lan Xichen in seclusion.

But that was the issue, of course. Lan Xichen always interfered with his plans, willingly or not. That stupid man, with his too forgiving heart and his big eyes, his strong shoulders… Nie Huaisang’s entire life would have been much easier if that idiot of a man had been even just a little less handsome.

Not just because of the effect it had on him, Nie Huaisang told himself every time he became angry about it. He was not the only one who had put up with Lan Xichen longer than necessary just because he happened to be handsome when he smiled. Surely the Lans would have realised what a fool their sect leader was, if they hadn’t been blinded by his good looks and his undeserved air of wisdom. And Jin Guangyao either hadn’t been immune, or else he would have gotten rid of the man who forced him to continue pretending he was a paragon of virtue.

Lan Xichen had one great skill, and it was to be so handsome people became as stupid as he was just to get one smile from him.

It wasn’t a bad skill. It certainly was one Nie Huaisang envied on occasions. His own life would have been much easier if he’d had such a talent… but instead, that beauty had been wasted on a man who thought people were mostly good and deserving of second chances.

What a joke.

Nie Huaisang had opened a bottle of Emperor’s Smile when he’d heard that Lan Xichen had entered seclusion, and privately celebrated what he’d thought to be the man’s first wise decision in a lifetime. He’d also celebrated the fact that, now that he was safe from the effect of those kind eyes and strong shoulders, he would regain some degree of control over his traitorous desires.

Perhaps Nie Huaisang too was a fool sometimes. The effect Lan Xichen had on people couldn’t be countered by mere absence, he soon learned. And after only a few months, he found himself missing Lan Xichen’s company.

It was only because of old habits, he told himself at first. After a decade of constant contact through letters and visits, of course he’d grown used to Lan Xichen’s frequent presence, useless as that had been. It would pass with time.

Time passed indeed, but the gnawing coldness in his heart did not, and Nie Huaisang instead found himself longing for Lan Xichen with increasing frequency. Everything reminded him of that man, be it his birds (Lan Xichen had more than once complimented how well trained they were), his favourite painting brush (a present from Lan Xichen. He should have burned it and gotten another, but it was a very good brush), a set of robes (Lan Xichen owned one that matched it), or even the damn sunset (it had been a very pretty one though, and Lan Xichen had a fondness for those).

It took Nie Huaisang a while to understand why his thoughts always returned to Lan Xichen. Partly because he had little time to spare for that problem, busy as he was preparing the return of his sect’s former glory. Then, one evening, in the company of some passable wine and a frankly pathetic novel, Nie Huaisang was hit by a realisation: if he couldn’t stop thinking about Lan Xichen, it might have been because he was in love with the man.

The idea was ridiculous. Repulsive, almost.

Whatever else others might have thought of him, Nie Huaisang knew his own value. He had proven himself to be smarter and more cunning than anyone else in his generation. His appearance was also above average, even if he’d looked rather awkward before puberty worked its magic, meaning he’d been left out when that stupid list of bachelors had been created. His cultivation was on the lower side, but only compared to some of his most talented peers. In fact, Wei Wuxian in his current body had a much worse level than him, and would remain that way until Lan Wangji had fucked a golden core into him. Then, there was the matter of Nie Huaisang’s other accomplishments, which were many: he had perfect mastery of the six arts, he’d learned to be politically astute, his taste was excellent in all things.

Almost all things.

Apparently, when it came to men, his tastes were shit. After all Lan Xichen had nothing to commend himself except a pretty face, a pleasing body, and a charming smile. Certainly he had also once been a very accomplished young man, but the burden of leading Gusu Lan had not left him a lot of time to continue improving his mind, and he wasn’t quite as interesting a person to chat with as he’d been.

Lan Xichen was a man one might have taken a fancy to, a man perfectly fine to fantasise about, perhaps even to fuck once or twice for the novelty of it if he could be convinced, but that was it. Only a fool would have fallen in love with such a person, and Nie Huaisang wasn’t a fool.

He refused to be one.

So he took that unpleasant realisation and set out to destroy any unnecessary emotions. He tried, at first, to simply stop thinking about Lan Xichen. A vain effort, he soon realised: the more he wanted to avoid that topic, the more his mind lingered back onto it. Nie Huaisang thus decided another approach was necessary, and started working on a detailed list of all of Lan Xichen’s faults.

The list was lengthy enough. Lan Xichen was a fool, he was blind to the fault of others (a kind heart), lacked judgement (trusting), had horrible taste in friends (Nie Huaisang was hardly better), he was weak willed (but only on personal matters), too forgiving (and yet he had killed Jin Guangyao in the end)...

The list was a mistake. It did nothing to reduce Nie Huaisang’s feelings, and only ended up highlighting those qualities of Lan Xichen he disliked thinking about, since they ruined his comforting image of the man as a complete idiot.

Briefly, Nie Huaisang considered looking for a different lover. For a wife even, if it came to that. The idea was dismissed as quickly as it came to him. He didn’t feel ready to get married, not until his sect was back to its proper place as a great one, and he certainly felt no inclination toward the concept of having children. He’d rather pass the title of sect leader to some talented cousin or even a no-name disciple who would have proved their value, rather than some brat whose only accomplishment was to have been born and who would feel entitled to power for that reason, regardless of talent.

And as for merely taking a lover… searching for a replacement was too much of a hassle. He’d have to find someone handsome, reliable, trustworthy, capable of putting up with his personality… and at that point, it’d be easier to just seduce Lan Xichen than find another person with those exact same qualities.

Having reached that conclusion, Nie Huaisang accepted the inescapable and started planning a visit to the Cloud Recesses.

It couldn’t be good for Lan Xichen to remain isolated, anyway.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the Cloud Recesses. It helped, of course, that Nie Huaisang had timed his visit carefully, so that Lan Wangji and his too-suspicious husband were away on a Night Hunt when he happened to come by. Those two would have interfered with his plans, while Lan Qiren, even though now aware of his true personality, had some lingering affection for Nie Huaisang. He’d been the old teacher’s worst student for three years in a row after all. That sort of thing created bonds.

Besides, Wei Wuxian’s mild dislike of Nie Huaisang could only serve as a recommendation.

So Lan Qiren welcomed Nie Huaisang with all the honours due to a sect leader. They had tea together and played weiqi while discussing the different problems Nie Huaisang had invented to come there. He had, he realised, missed the Cloud Recesses. The place had an air of careful elegance, an ethereal look to it that contrasted sharply with his own home in the Unclean Realm. Luckily, he would get to enjoy it for more than that single afternoon. In spite of his and Lan Qiren’s efforts, they were not able to solve everything that Nie Huaisang had needed to discuss, so he was invited to stay the night. Nie Huaisang tried to protest, and pretended he couldn’t possibly impose himself that way, when already his visit had been unplanned, but Lan Qiren would hear none of it and had a guest room prepared for him.

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair. The food was plain, and there could be no conversation because of Lan rules, but silence was not an unpleasant thing, and Nie Huaisang had a fondness for Gusu Lan’s tasteless cooking.

After eating, Lan Qiren and him chatted some more. They talked about events of their youth, and about how promising the new generation was. They talked about mistakes they’d rather have avoided, and those they would repeat in a heartbeat. Lan Qiren had always been pleasant to chat with, and that only became more true as Nie Huaisang became older. Then, at last, Lan Qiren had to send his guest to his room, and bid him goodnight. Nie Huaisang answered in kind.

Alone in his guest room, Nie Huaisang sat on the bed and waited. He waited, first, for the bell signaling bedtime. Then for the second one which announced that the curfew had started. After this he waited a little more, just for safety, and left his room.

To make himself as silent as possible, and to give the illusion that he was merely sleeping, should someone enter the room, Nie Huaisang left his boots behind. The gravel of various paths was uncomfortable under his feet, but he’d dealt with more painful things before, and he didn’t stay very long on the path anyway. Having come to this place for so long as a youth, having returned to it so often as an adult, Nie Huaisang prided himself in knowing every shortcut to every part of the Cloud Recesses. It was easy, then, to make his way to the isolated little house where Lan Qiren had mentioned that his nephew had chosen to live for the duration of his seclusion.

There was a light inside the house, the flickering flame of a candle that weakly offered a beacon into the night. Nie Huaisang smiled at the sight, both because his plan would be easier if he didn’t have to wake Lan Xichen, and because being still up was a blatant violation of Lan rules. Having broken one rule, Lan Xichen had to be in a mindset where breaking more might be considered. Encouraged by this, Nie Huaisang knocked on the door.

For a moment there was only silence coming from inside. Then the faint sound of ruffling fabrics, of light steps on a wooden floor, and the door opened to reveal Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen looked much more put together than Nie Huaisang would have expected. It worried him briefly, as a Lan Xichen in full possession of his senses would be harder to seduce. But there was still a certain air to the other man, something in the way his robes were slightly too creased, his hair not tied quite as tight as usual… Lan Xichen wasn’t at his worst (good, Nie Huaisang had no interest in a pity party) but he wasn’t quite at his best either, and that was all that mattered.

So Nie Huaisang put on his silliest smile, and prepared himself for a little game.

“Er-ge! I was here for business and I just thought it’d be nice to say hi!’ he chirped. “I hope you don’t mind? I know you’re in seclusion, but…”

“Stop,” Lan Xichen cut him, his face turning pale.

Nie Huaisang tilted his head and blinked innocently, even going so far as allowing himself a slight pout

“Er-ge? Are you angry that I came? I just thought…”

“If you’re going to play a comedy, then leave,” Lan Xichen said. “I’ve had enough of being lied to.”

Instantly, Nie Huaisang dropped his smile. “Then if I’m honest, will you let me in?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, which once more marked him as a fool to Nie Huaisang. A clever man would have realised nothing good could come of a conversation between them. A clever man would have wondered why Nie Huaisang had felt the need to come to that house in secret at night instead of requesting a meeting through more official channels.

Lan Xichen wasn’t a clever man. He stepped aside and gestured for Nie Huaisang to come inside that little house.

The place wasn’t anything impressive. Furniture was sparse even by Lan standards, though the bed did have a few more blankets than was usual, making it looking almost obscenely comfortable by contrast. There were also many books, some of which were currently being read if bookmarks were to be trusted. No musical instruments though, and no sign of Shuoyue either.

“I can try to make some tea if you’d like,” Lan Xichen offered, inviting Nie Huaisang to sit at his little table. That was where most of the books had been left, as well as writing implements. It appeared Lan Xichen had been taking notes on something, which he now had to put away. “I hope you will forgive me for the mess. I do not get a lot of visitors, and those I do get don’t usually come in.”

“And yet you make an exception for me,” Nie Huaisang replied with a smirk. “Er-ge, how kind of you. But don’t worry about the mess, we both know I’m worse than that.”

“Do I know that?” Lan Xichen sighed as he finished cleaning the table. “I once thought I knew you, I’m not so sure anymore. How much of everything was a lie, Huaisang?”

“Enough of it. But not all. It’s difficult to always lie. Even San-ge must have been honest sometimes, I suppose, though probably not with either of us.”

At the mention of the man he’d killed, Lan Xichen startled and gave Nie Huaisang a pleading look. Pain was a good look on him, Nie Huaisang decided, though he’d probably look even better panting in pleasure.

“I’m sorry, am I not supposed to talk about him?” Nie Huaisang asked with a smile. “But he’s been such a great part of both our lives, I can’t help it.”

“Huaisang, please…”

“You must miss him so much,” Nie Huaisang remarked. “He was your very dear friend, your confidant… though what sort of a confidant, I must now wonder. People have started throwing the word around about Wangji and Wuxian, did you know? So of course it got me thinking…”

“It wasn’t like that,” Lan Xichen objected, hands clenched into fists as he finally sat down opposite his unwanted guest, forgetting all about the tea he’d offered to make. “San-di and I were only…”

“Oh, so it’s San-di now. No more A-Yao?”

Lan Xichen glared. Nie Huaisang smirked.

“Why are you here, Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asked, sounding so tired and old that Nie Huaisang’s heart, if he’d had one, would have ached for him.

“Why do you think I’m here, Er-ge?”

Lan Xichen fell silent, his gaze falling to the table between them.

“I think you want to finish your revenge,” he said at last, meeting Nie Huaisang’s eyes again. “I think you blame me for your brother’s death. I suppose I understand your line of thinking. I gave San-di the means, I pushed for Da-ge to tolerate him much longer than he ever would have… How could you not blame me for what I’ve done?”

“He’d have done it without you,” Nie Huaisang retorted with some amusement. “And if you’d tried to oppose him in any way, he’d have started hating you just as fiercely as he hated Da-ge. He might even have killed you, and wouldn’t that have been a loss? No, believe it or not, I don’t blame you.”

“How low I must have fallen in your esteem, then, if I am not even worthy of blame.”

Without thinking, Nie Huaisang nodded. Lan Xichen was nothing but a pathetic idiot, unworthy of every advantage given to him, of the goodwill the entire world insisted on extending to him, and yet…

And yet Nie Huaisang couldn’t tear his eyes away, and found himself impossibly endeared by this fool of a man who dared to think he was important enough to deserve his hatred, when he was already unworthy of his love.

“Why are you here?” Lan Xichen insisted. “If it isn’t to torture me with guilt or to kill me…”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “A more interesting question, I think, is why did you let me in if you thought I might wish to kill you?”

Distress flashed across Lan Xichen’s perfect face. Nie Huaisang was still only getting used to causing fear in others, and usually enjoyed it. To his surprise, he found Lan Xichen’s terror less pleasant.

“I’ve… missed you,” Lan Xichen confessed, averting his eyes. “Even if there was a chance you had come with ill intentions, I’ve missed talking to you and it felt worth the risk.”

Something warm and sharp exploded inside Nie Huaisang’s chest, delicious and painful all at once. He’d never thought Lan Xichen more stupid than he did in that moment. He’d never been more delighted by that stupidity, either. After everything that had come to pass, after every lie, and deception, Lan Xichen could still miss him.

How pathetic.

How wonderful.

“Er-ge, I am starting to think you have a type,” Nie Huaisang teased, just barely resisting the impulse to reach for the other man’s hair and steal a forceful kiss from him. Just a moment more, just to see how low Lan Xichen might fall before being granted what they clearly both wanted. “I do suppose I have a lot in common with San-ge, hm?”

“I miss him too,” Lan Xichen agreed. It felt like a slap to the face. Nie Huaisang would have struck him, if he hadn’t already known he’d be the more hurt of the two. But before Nie Huaisang’s anger could fester, Lan Xichen continued. “I haven’t missed the two of you in the same way, though. I… was always more fond of you than I ought to have been. I used to think you felt the same. What a fool I was.”

“Indeed you are,” Nie Huaisang said, leaning over the table without thinking. He was glad, suddenly, that Lan Xichen hadn’t gotten around to making tea, because he suddenly decided that he intended to bend that man over the table and fuck him until he begged for mercy.

Fools, after all, needed to be punished so they might learn better, and Nie Huaisang would be more than happy to dole out that punishment, to show Lan Xichen his true place in the world. And then, when Lan Xichen would be at his lowest, filthy and abused and beautiful, Nie Huaisang would show that he could be kind too, when the mood struck him.

“Er-ge, my dear Er-ge… you certainly like being lied to, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang chuckled. “I suppose I could continue lying to you, if it’d make you feel better. Is that something you’d wish for? For sweet, stupid little Huaisang to fawn over you again and get stuttery every time he meets your eyes? I could do it again, quite easily.”

“Huaisang, don’t. I’m ashamed enough to have thought it was real.”

“I’ve told you earlier: it’s impossible to constantly lie, Er-ge. Some of it had to be real.”

Lan Xichen glared at him, eyes shining as if he might cry, hurt and furious at once. Nie Huaisang only smirked at him, and watched as the other man slowly processed what he’d said, and what the context for it had been. Lan Xichen’s glare softened into a frown which shifted into fear before settling on something fragile and hopeful.

It was amazing, Nie Huaisang thought, that any person with Lan Xichen’s life experience could still so easily trust others. He almost envied it. It must have been so easy to go through life like that, refusing to accept that people, as a whole, were nothing but a bunch of selfish assholes. It also made him furious that Lan Xichen had learned so little, that he was so determined to let himself be abused again by whoever his stupid little heart would settle on.

But Nie Huaisang would reward that stupidity well, and take full advantage of a trust he knew he didn’t deserve.

That beautiful imbecile was his now, Nie Huaisang thought as he finally grabbed Lan Xichen by the collar to pull him into a kiss, and what a beautiful reward it was for every crime Nie Huaisang had committed.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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anne-with-an-evangelion · 4 years ago

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When it comes to talking about DBH characters who get character growth/a redemption arc, Hank is the obvious person to bring up, and there’s the obvious fandom fixation on Gavin, but what about Adam Chapman? He has an arc in the game that sort of disappears in the fray when compared to other characters but he has the literal journey that everyone wants Gavin to have. But even in comparison to others I feel like Adam completely stands on his own as a good character with so much potential as far as his past, future and motivations.

When Kara, Luther and Alice first show up at Rose’s house, Adam is outside chopping wood and literally turns them away, saying his mom isn’t just too busy to talk to them - she doesn’t WANT to. Of course this isn’t the case and Rose invites everyone inside. And Adam is PISSED.

Also he’s wearing a shirt that says Average Casual Guy which is so funny

Adam is young, probably around twenty, he doesn’t seem to be away at college or anything, rather Rose says they just farm their own food to sell at the market and that’s how they scrape by. Sounds stressful, especially with a bunch of Androids living in their house. It’s obvious Adam doesn’t want them around and definitely doesn’t want any new deviants showing up, after the call for revolution that occurred with Markus’s Stratford Tower speech.

As the scene goes on, you get more information about the Chapman’s and the things they’ve been through. Rose is obviously an incredibly strong and compassionate person to be helping the Androids to this extent, but there’s no denying it’s putting her and Adam in danger. When Kara walks in on their right in the kitchen, Adam is telling Rose they need to stop getting involved, that it’s not safe, and he’s not going to back down about this issue anymore.

His outburst over this is pretty understandable, in the context of the game - even when Kara first shows up asking for Rose, Adam’s first question is, “What do you want with her?” Which I feel like isn’t just about whether Kara is an Android or not, but whether she’s someone there to bust them for having Androids in the house. And of course he’s right, because the cops come by like five minutes later to search the house. They are putting themselves in danger, and even though they’re doing the right thing, it must still be a strain on their family... and it’s clear they’ve fought about this many, many times.

So, yeah, his rejection of his mother’s desire to help the Androids comes from a place of fear for their safety, which is understandable to an extent. But he isn’t just afraid of deviants and doesn’t want to help them - he really seems to hate them, which shouldn’t be an understandable view to hold within the context of the game and the allegory of the Civil Rights Movement, and then the language he uses is like, yikes...

It’s not, I understand they’re in trouble but I’m upset you’re putting us in danger, it’s something else - and of course Adam is really mad, and maybe saying something he doesn’t necessarily mean, but this does seem to reflect his view of the Androids as a whole. At this time, Adam honestly doesn’t see them as being people, which probably makes it even harder for him to understand why Rose goes so far out of her way to help them.

I mean, she sets up trips across the river which have been obviously successful, she drives them to Jericho, she has some kind of contact with or understanding of the revolution leaders because she’s able to direct Kara on where to go, and though not much is explained, her brother (and Adam’s uncle) is obviously totally cool with Androids because he’s willing to help them too. She’s clearly been doing this for a while, or at least is proactive enough to take action and do whatever she has to. She’s even willing to take care of Alice once they get across the border. Literally the hero of DBH but I digress. Adam doesn’t think Androids are worthy of the rights they’re asking for, especially when compared to humans.

What follows this is one of the most intriguing lines in the scene (to me)

What does this mean?? We know his father passed away, and Rose says that ever since then, Adam just boils over sometimes. Maybe it happened suddenly, an accident possibly - or did he get sick? Were Androids involved somehow, like what happened with Cole? What was Rose’s husband’s opinion on Androids? Things have changed since he passed, for sure, but still. Did he hold that same “Androids aren’t alive” opinion that Adam is now expressing? Or is it just that Adam thinks if his dad were still here, he’d be able to solve this issue somehow? Maybe his dad was a politician who ran on pro-Android laws and after he died Adam has become disillusioned with his parents’ worldview ??? Maybe his father died helping Androids too and that’s why Adam rejects them so much. Or maybe his dad hated Androids so much he would have never allowed Rose to help them, and so they wouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place, in Adam’s mind. (Edited to say that apparently it’s canon that Adam’s father died of cancer though I can’t recall it specifically being said in the game, so that is definitely a sad addition to things☹️)

I’m literally just making shit up lol but I really do personally hesitate to give Adam some kind of super traumatic backstory or make him bigoted against Androids because the Black characters are already treated poorly enough in the game when it comes to those things. I’m inclined to think this is just a general outburst of missing his dad and wanting him to be there to ‘fix’ things or at least, maybe, mediate the conversation between Adam and Rose. Idk, it’s cool to speculate on, especially when other characters are given super deep dives into their literally nonexistent canon backstory, it definitely feels like there’s so much that’s unsaid here.

Obviously there’s a couple of different ways the gameplay can go after this - but one other thing I wanted to bring up was what happens if you end up with Kara at the border crossing and run into Rose and Adam there. After talking to Rose in the bathroom and making a plan to all go to her brother’s house, Kara talks to Adam outside-

He says he doesn’t agree with Markus’s methods (which is like.. ok.. a whole other conversation in itself)(EDIT: so apparently the answer is different if you choose the ‘pacifist’ route for Markus- Adam says that ‘seeing what Markus is doing made me realize you’re alive’ !!! Which is cool that it changes and def reflects something different about his character than if his response is always the same!) So anyway he now believes in Androids’ right to freedom and happiness. What made this come about?? Was it after interacting with Alice and Kara and Luther?? I have a theory that Rose knew Alice was an Android as soon as they showed up but just played along - maybe when Adam realized there were Android children mixed up in this too, he began to change his view on things, maybe see himself in them, or see things through his father’s eyes, wanting to protect his family and child. Maybe that’s the lens through which Adam begins to see it. It could be the peaceful pacifist revolution Markus is leading, if he is- but even if not, Adam still changes his mind.

Or, maybe after everything that’s happened, he just realizes he was being kind of an asshole about the whole thing and when it came down to it, a government that was literally going door to door searching for Androids and the people who might help them? That’s probably not the type of place Adam wants to live in. It’s definitely interesting to think about his motivations and what brought him to this point.

And even though it’s sad for Kara and Luther, I find the ending where Alice ends up with the Chapman’s really.. bittersweet-ly satisfying in a narrative way. Found family .... though of course it sounds like they were all planning on meeting at Rose’s brother’s house so they would have all been together anyway☹️

🥲I feel like I had so much more to say but yeah!! I think he’s such a cool interesting character and I love that he ends up on the side of the Androids in the end. And what happens after they escape safely??? Does he start helping deviants too like Rose does? Are they going to settle down and form a commune of sorts with the other Androids who escaped? I love the idea of that loss in Adam’s life being filled up with the addition of new people who care about him, and a little sister in Alice, since he seems to be an only child. The possibilities of it all...

Adam has a sad sort of story to his past, he dislikes Androids and then comes around, he has so much potential for what happens after the revolution - and he’s not the only one!!! There are so many characters in the game that deserve a closer look but I just love Adam..

#dbh #adam chapman #he’s just really compelling guys #like. he actually has an Android friendly redemption arc. in canon !!!#Gavin whomst????

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actual-fucking-clown · 4 years ago

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Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this.

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them.

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems.

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered.

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough.

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile.

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless.

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke.

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent. A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too.

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

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miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

Note

*moon walks in* have you ever written anything for zutara? If not that’s cool *moon walks out*

I’ve written a piece, yes. It’s a what-if on Zuko’s scar getting healed by Katara instead of them getting interrupted after their conversation in the catacombs:

"It's a scar. It can't be healed."

"This is water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important. I don't know if it would work, but..."

Likewise, Zuko didn't know why he allowed Katara to touch his scar. He'd long grown used to the fact that he had it, but that also didn't mean he let people idly touch it like it were something to gawk and poke at.

And what did he really expect? That his scar would be magically taken away, just like that? His life had never been that easy. He'd struggled all throughout his existence, and any wounds caused along the way were likely there to stay.

This girl was clearly fooling herself, acting as if it'd just be--

"Yeah, I--" Katara summoned forth her spirit water. "--I think this might work."

He gave her a weird look, though given that his neutral expression usually made him come off as sour anyway, she probably couldn't tell. "What?"

She seemed to ignore him, her spirit water bending around her hand. She looked up at him, eyes briefly squinting like she was unsure, then stared down at the spirit water with the same expression. She took a breath, apparently solving whatever mental debate she was having as she raised her hand to touch his scar again.

He flinched, and then hated himself for flinching. The water had been freezing.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Sorry. You're a firebender, so it must be too cold for you."

He was almost suspicious, but the look in her eyes seemed genuine. He had a slew of responses for her, most of which were sarcastic, but he somehow ended up saying, "It's fine. I can handle it," instead.

She tilted her head, concerned, but that just made him more determined to prove her wrong. He forced himself to stand rigidly in place, staring her down like he was ready for a fight.

She snorted - actually snorted - at him! Was she amused? The nerve!

"Alright, hold still," she ordered gently, raising her hand again.

Zuko tried not to look so obviously like he was steeling himself up. Thanfully, if Katara had noticed anything this time, she showed no sign of it, and the water touched his face without issue. He was surprised in a way, as he'd expected her to make the water colder just out of spite.

It was nice to be wrong, he supposed.

The water felt strange against his skin. He couldn't see what she was doing obviously, his left eye closed from the water while his right could see a bit of her hand if he really tried. Katara's gaze, meanwhile, was focused and steady, never wavering from where her hand was.

He was only forced to stop looking when the water began to glow. The temperature of the water suddenly stopped mattering, as he couldn't determine it. Maybe it was numbing him?

He could feel the vibration as the liquid shifted like a calming wave, like it were washing over the left side of his face over and over despite it already being submerged. At first, he didn't understand how it felt like it was seeping into his skin, seeking impurities and washing them away, without hurting him at all.

But water was the opposite of fire. His father's flames had burned him and the heat had dug so deeply as to leave a scar, so it would only make sense if water could reverse it. He'd just never imagined it was possible, and he was more glad than anything else that the light forced him to close his eyes as to avoid Katara seeing any more emotion than he was comfortable sharing.

Could someone's sins really be washed away with something as simple as water?

Suddenly, there was the sound of rocks collapsing nearby, jarring both he and Katara out of their state. Katara staggered forward in surprise, but seemed compelled to keep her hand on the left side of his face. Likewise, he tried not to move, unsure of how interrupting the process would go and not wanting to tempt fate.

His left eye couldn't see beyond the now-faint light of the healing water, while the right could only stare at Katara. She'd averted her gaze, presumably to look at what'd caused the disturbance, and although Zuko couldn't see it himself from where he was at, he knew well enough that she was capable and would say something if anything were wrong.

Katara's eyes widened. "Aang!"

Recognizing the name of the Avatar, Zuko's head twitched on reflex to look, only barely managing to keep the rest of himself still as Katara's hand was still on him. She went through something similar, shifting her body as if to run off before remembering the situation.

She peered up at him, the light intensifying now that her focus had returned. She tilted her head and eyed him critically as she ran her thumb where his scar was. He may've taken the critical gaze personally under normal circumstances, but he supposed it was just the water having an effect on him.

Finally, the light died down, Katara pulling her hand away along with the water. Zuko was immediately hit with the strange sensation of just the left side of his face, covering it with his hand in surprise at the shift in his vision.

Katara had already run off. He straightened, looking over to see her in the middle of hugging Aang, who was currently glaring at him. Iroh was nearby, rushing to Zuko to embrace him. It wasn't that Zuko wasn't happy to see his uncle, but he focused on returning Aang's glare, not sure what the Avatar's motives are.

Given that, he wondered aloud, "Uncle, I don't understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?"

Aang broke away from Katara and replied, as if he'd been asked, "Saving you, that's what."

Needless to say, Zuko didn't appreciate the cheekiness in his tone. He tried to move, ready to fight, but Iroh hugged him tighter to prevent him from going anywhere.

"Zuko, it's time we talked," he said sternly, but quietly. Finally pulling away - allowing Zuko to lower his hand from his face - Iroh turned to face Katara and Aang. "Go help your other friends. We'll catch up with you."

Aang bowed, then ran off for the nearest cave. Katara followed, but kept a slower pace to look back at Zuko.

He saw a slight raise of her brows, then a smile that wasn't directed at the Avatar, but at him. He tried not to show too much of a reaction to it, not matter how bizarre it was, but that didn't stop him from continuing to maintain eye contact until she'd fully disappeared into the cave.

Then, remembering himself and that Iroh had never answered his question, he turned. "Why, Uncle?"

Iroh faced him, looking serious. "You're not the man you used to be, Zuko. You--" He cut himself off, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in surprise. Apparently, all the seriousness had just drained out of him. "You're really not the man you used to be!"

"What?" Zuko asked, but realized a second later exactly where Iroh was staring. Bringing a hand up to his face, he finally felt along where his scar was.

Or rather, where his scar used to be. His skin was smooth, his vision just as good in his left eye as it was in his right. In fact, the only sign that there'd been a scar at all was his lack of a left eyebrow, though that could grow back with time.

"The... Katara," he began, "she used a type of water she got at a spirit oasis."

"A spirit--of course..." Iroh's expression regained its calmness as he placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Zuko, listen to me. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been, and now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny."

Zuko raised a brow (well, the only one he had), not sure he understood.

Iroh continued, "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good."

Zuko opened his mouth, but the conversation was cut off by a sudden earthquake. He managed to keep his balance, but a slew of crystals suddenly burst through the ground, separating him from Iroh and trapping the latter in a crystal prison.

He gaped at the sight, then assumed a fighting position at nothing in particular and readied himself, not showing any emotion even as Azula descended form the sides of the crystal chamber alongside what he presumed to be two earthbenders.

Walking to Zuko and Iroh, Azula kept up her usual demeanor despite his vanished scar. "I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle, but Zuko," she began, "Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?"

Zuko glared. "Release him immediately!"

"It's not too late for you, Zuko," Azula insisted as she stopped in front of him, not paying his order any mind. "You can still redeem yourself."

Iroh shouted to Zuko from his containment in the crystals, "The kind of redemption she offers is not for you!"

"Why don't you let him decide, Uncle?" Azula challenged. She glanced back at Zuko, voice softening as she continued, "I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day - " She raised a fist for emphasis. " - this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want."

Father's love? Everything he wanted?

"Zuko," Iroh called out gingerly, "I am begging you. Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want."

Zuko looked back and forth between the two, Azula's eyes unusually gentle while Iroh's were as gentle as they always had been. However, he lowered his gaze, not meeting either.

"You are free to choose," Azula said. She raised a hand, the gesture wordlessly telling her guards to leave the premises. That done, she simply walked off into the cave that Aang and Katara had gone.

Zuko thought back to Iroh, though still not looking at him. I'm begging you, he'd said, and it was familiar because he'd said it before. Zuko had been down this path before, being asked what he wanted and what his "destiny" really was back when he tried to take the Avatar's bison. He remembered it well.

I'm begging you, Prince Zuko! It's time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you want?

Prince. Iroh had called him that, even back then. Azula was doing it now as well, but...

Zuko knew deep down that it was one of her tricks. He'd played her games too many times; been played too many times. He wasn't foolish enough to think otherwise, but he also couldn't be sure that Azula would betray him completely.

Already, he could hear a fight ensuing in the the direction that Azula had gone. His feet were itching to move; to do something, but what?

Iroh spoke up, "You said it was water from a spirit oasis."

Zuko glanced over at him, giving him his attention.

Iroh continued, "Zuko, that scar you had was full of suffering and terrible memories. Had you truly wanted to go back to that, I'm sure that you wouldn't have been able to be healed from it." He shook his head, his voice thick with sorrow. "All this time, you've been trying to make up for something I've never held against you."

"What do you mean?"

"Think," Iroh urged. "You spoke up, yes, but against the idea of lives being lost! Are you going to apologize for that?!"

Zuko blinked, eyes wide at the fact that he'd never thought of that.

Iroh's voice softened. "I'm sorry that I let you into that meeting. I had to live with that guilt for the scar you had on your face."

"What? Uncle, no, I'm the one--"

"You were young, but you were already a far better Fire Lord than your father will ever be. You cared about the lives of others even if they weren't for your own benefit. I'm proud of you, and I'm so happy that you have a moment to start over again." He paused, squirming briefly within the crystal restraints. Realizing that he was firmly stuck, he looked back to Zuko, uttering firmly, "Go."

"But, Uncle--"

"Go!"

Zuko's feet finally moved. He dashed past Iroh and into the cave as quickly as he could.

He felt stupid. He felt pathetic. He'd spent all this time torn and twisted between two sides when his heart had made up its mind a long time ago and his body struggled to listen.

"The Fire Nation took my mother away from me."

"I'm sorry. That's something we have in common."

Common. Relating to someone was not something he often did. His father and sister had long since convinced him that he was less than nothing without earning his honor back, but what did honor mean? If he was less than nothing, why could he get so close to the Avatar and his bison with his own efforts?

The only thing he had in common with Ozai and Azula was blood, and it'd been boiling away ever since he'd been banished.

Who are you, and what do you want?

As he made it out of the cave, he jumped, letting out a blast of fire between the ongoing fight that Azula, Katara, and Aang were having. They all stared at him as he landed, his stance ready for action as he looked around at the lot of them. Now that his mind was clear, he could see the almost expectant look in Azula's eyes, along with a hidden threat if he dared to betrayed her.

He was no pawn. Not anymore. He wrote his own destiny.

"I'm Zuko," he declared firmly. "and I want the kind of honor that you and my father could never give me!"

He inhaled, then thrust his arms forward to let out a blast of fire so loud that it drowned his own cry of frustration. Years of pent-up aggression were put into the flames, and he just barely caught the sight of his sister's wide eyes before she almost seemed to become engulfed in it. It wasn't that he thought he'd truly destroy her with it, but finally letting it out gave him a sense of freedom he hadn't felt before.

Aang and Katara flung themselves back due to the heat, despite not being within the flames' particular range. Aang gaped, confused, then glanced at Katara for answers.

But she wasn't looking at Aang. She was meeting Zuko's gaze with her own. For the moment of calm in the battle, they simply stared at one another.

They said nothing, but shared an unspoken promise, held together by the simple commonality they shared.

Let's take down the Fire Nation together.

#other: non ml talk #((Could've sworn that I'd posted this a long time ago. Sorry about that!))#Zutara

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coindraws · 4 years ago

Note

I know I put it in another post, but I really think you need to get in contact with the Deans of both universities. Write them the same email explaining the situation from the beginning and that the issues are still continuing and you need help. Name names! Tell them all the nonsense! The problems you've been having are absolutely ridiculous and it's about daggone time they be rectified! I'm mad for you! - (LeeLee)

Thanks LeeLee 😭

I'm in contact with the prof who organizes everything here and thankfully he thinks I'm trustworthy (lol), so he's been trying to help me with this whole situation. Sadly, I’ve heard from other students that it’s completely normal for that office to take forever and it’s not only me, it’s also native students that run into a lot of unnecessary problems 😩

I'll see him on Monday and then I'll talk to him. I looked at my mails again today and in January I sent them a mail a few days too late explaining that I had to ask every prof first if I could join their course which took some time. I also sent them a list with the courses I chose that semester, usually you have to fill out a document but they didn't have that for my program at that time. I never got an answer to this mail, so I assumed they read it since it was only an informational thing.

Later in March I asked if I was properly registered because a prof said I wasn't on her list she got from the office, the answer I got was basically that I'm registered as a 2nd year student and that everything should be okay. They also sent me the document I should've filled out in September 2020/January 2021 but it was March 2021 by then. No mention if I should fill this out again or not, so I didn't for that semester since it was overdue for more than a month already anyway and they surely must’ve received my first mail, right?

I did all the online courses I was supposed to, handed in my things, held presentations, wrote exams. Basically everything I did the first semester as well. The profs either sent me corrected versions of my exams with the grade or just posted the grade somewhere. So I do have proof of almost everything (I’m missing three grades but two of them are from the prof that’s been helping me and I think the other grade should be fine as well? Not sure what I got, but I handed in everything else and some profs just send the office a list with the grades the students got in the end if everything’s fine. If not, then they’ll usually tell the student that they need to retake an exam)

Fast forward to August of this year, I sent them a mail two weeks ago asking about my registration because I can’t do it online. No answer. Then I saw the prof and he asked me how it’s going and I told him I have some issues with my registration. Thankfully he went to the office with me and stayed there to solve things, I also sent him a list with the courses I took last year. I didn’t stay there for long because the person at the office told me she can’t accept the list I have because I didn’t do my pedagogical registration. Which y’know, I tried to do in January, got no answer, asked about it in March, was told it was fine? Apparently it’s not fucking fine???

Now, they only registered one grade that was missing from January, but the more recent ones are still not there. I didn’t pass the year if they tell me that they can’t accept the other grades I got. I'm not entirely sure what the consequences of that would be, but one of those could be that I have to redo at least one semester and sorry but I don’t want to do that. Why do I write all of these exams and do what’s asked of me and then suddenly I get told that those don’t count?

It gets even worse, because they need codes and names of the courses to do all of that. I have three things that got properly registered in my second semester. One essay grade and my seminar grade. These two things are things I can’t change, if you look at the document that’s needed, the code and name are already filled in. BUT, somehow a grade from my French course also got registered, which doesn’t make any sense according to their logic. I looked up the code of the French course and thought that maybe it only got registered because it has the same code as last semester, but it doesn’t, it’s a different one. So why does this grade get registered but the ones from the same faculty don’t?

Also, let’s not forget that they at first marked my essay as missing, as if I hadn’t handed it anything. This basically the same as a failure. Had to ask them about it, the first mail said they don’t know anything about that and if I could ask the prof that corrected it if he can confirm my grade, 20 minutes later I get a mail saying a colleague could confirm the grade and it’s going to be changed.

Sadly I haven’t seen the prof that’s organizing my program here since Monday, but I’ll see him again next week. He’s very busy but he’s trying to help me and he has done some things that a student usually isn’t even able to do. (For example, he somehow managed to get somebody in the program in the middle of the year when that’s not even possible, usually you have to start in September but that person went to a college kind of thing and then joined us in January, even though he never wrote any exams at that university) So, if anyone can solve this then it’s gotta be him because I can’t do anything.

I also totally forgot that I'm the very first person from Germany in this program, so I hope they'd take that into account because I've been basically a guinea pig the whole last year... I run into all of these problems, so I’m technically testing what’s working and what isn’t, what needs to be improved etc. The first issue actually came up in September 2020 when I tried to sign up as a student for the first time and the people at the office had literally no idea what to do with me. They had to search for the things German people have to follow because they only had the list for the French students and they did eventually find it but they weren’t even sure if they had something for me in the first place. That’s also when they told me to leave me mail, name and phone number there and that they’d contact me if they figure out what to do with me. Big surprise, they didn’t so I went there to test my luck one week later and then they somehow knew what they had to do. No mention of me having to choose my courses for the next semester though.

I’m just so tired of everything. I don’t know how they solve it but I want it to be fixed because I do not want to stay in France any longer than I absolutely have to for this degree. I’m exhausted and frustrated, I’ve never had any problems with the German uni and they answer a lot faster than the French uni.

I really do hope everything turns out okay in the end but there’s not much time left. Once I’m done with my semester in France and if the profs ask for my experience (which they probably will) I’ll tell them everything and all the issues I had to try and solve because at this point I’m pretty sure that other people would’ve left the program because there were too many problems.

Lol, as I’m writing this here it’s a mystery how I endured this bullshit for so long because I’m completely alone trying to deal with a foreign university since I’m the only German, it’s in a foreign language in which I’m not fluent in, and I have to deal with an unfamiliar system during a pandemic 🤪 I’m slowly losing my sanity

#ask #anon #I also haven't learnt anything that's important for my future because most of the courses are boring and it's like school #but that's a different problem #maybe learning latin wouldn't have been that bad #sorry this is long but. I tried to summarize one year of problems

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ihatecoconut · 4 years ago

Text

Working it Out

Cross Posted to AO3

Phillip was staring out the window when she stepped into their room. He hadn’t even remembered to loosen his tie, which was odd because he hated wearing them and always removed them as soon as possible.

“Hey.”

He turned, smiling slightly when he saw her, “Hi.”

Martha stepped up behind him, hooked her chin over his shoulder and looked out to what he was staring at. Henry and Alex were in the courtyard, holding hands, Bea with them and they were all laughing.

“They look happy.”

Phillip nodded.

She pulled him away from the window gently, sitting them both down on the ornamental sofa which he had once told her was probably more decorative than functional, and took his hands in her own.

“What are you thinking?”

“They released their photos today.”

“Alex and Henry’s?”

He nodded, staring down at their joined hands.

“Hey,” she said, nudging his chin up so he was looking her in the eye, “I thought we were supporting them.”

“We are,” he replied almost instantly, “of course we are, I want Henry to be happy.”

Martha nodded, carefully, “So what’s the problem?”

“Have you seen them? The photos?”

She shook her head, “Why?”

Phillip glanced back towards the window. “They looked happy. Real. Like they were actually in love.”

“They are.”

“I know!” He cried, pulling away from her. “And so are we!”

“Pip, love,” she rose to stand in front of him, “I don’t understand.”

He sighed, dropping his head onto her shoulder and making a small noise when she ran her fingers through his hair. “Ours looked fake.”

“Our photos?”

She felt him nod.

“And you’re… jealous?”

He stiffened slightly, raising his head. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“Is there something else?” she pushed gently, seeing his eyes stray back to the window again.

“He- Henry- he said he wanted to live his truth.”

“By being gay.” she prompted.

He nodded, absently, as if that wasn’t what he was trying to convey. “And Bea, too, she can be open now about her addictions.”

Something clicked in Martha’s head then, “Both of them are able to be themselves after being supressed.”

“I did that.” He said miserably. “I didn’t mean to, but I did that. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Do you want to be someone else?”

He paused, drawing away from her and walking over to the mantlepiece, “Will you always love me?” He asked, suddenly the quiet, shy boy she had first met who was mostly overshadowed by the prince.

“Always.” She replied. “Even if you tell me that you’re also gay, I’d be very heartbroken, but I’ll always support you and love you.”

He laughed slightly at that, “No, no, I’m not…” he frowned, turning serious again, “I don’t like children.”

“Alright.”

“And I don’t want to be a father.”

“We don’t have to have children.”

“But the monarchy-“

She stepped forward again, cupping his face in her hands, “You have two siblings and plenty of cousins. It doesn’t just fall on us.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, “I just feel like something will go wrong if we don’t.”

“Things could go wrong anyway.”

“I suppose. I wish I could talk to them.”

They had somehow managed to drift back to the window and were looking out again on Henry, Alex, and Bea. Catherine had joined them, and she hugged both her children and Alex fiercely.

Martha paused, “I might have a solution for that.”

“Family therapy?” Bea repeated, a little incredulously.

“Yes.” Phillip was standing opposite the three of them, Alex having been sent back to America, and desperately wishing he had brought Martha with him.

“Oh, so after all those years of…”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Catherine interrupted loudly, cutting off whatever angry rant Bea was building up to.

Phillip glanced over to his brother who had remained silent for the whole discussion, “Henry?”

Henry startled at the sound of his name, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be called on. “Uh, I agree with mum.”

“You do?” Bea asked.

He nodded, “I think we need this.”

“Need what?” Bea demanded, “some stranger digging around in our issues?”

“It’s more some stranger helping to solve our issues.” Phillip offered, shutting up when she sent him a glare.

“Well,” Catherine said, attempting to stave off an argument, “that’s three votes for yes. So, we’ll try it.”

“Were you going to invite gran?” Henry asked, glancing at Phillip and then away again. He still seemed incredibly awkward around Phillip, but then Phillip had a lot to answer for.

“No. I don’t think she would…”

There were general mumbles of agreement from the other three.

“Alright.” Catherine clapped her hands together, as if sealing the deal. “Pip, did you have any in mind, or would you like to look together?”

“Martha recommended a few, I thought you might like to look at.”

“Then we’ll look.” She smiled at him, proud of his planning and it hit him in the chest like a bullet.

“You think that was the first time she had smiled at you in a while?” the Doctor asked once they had finished recapping how they arrived at family therapy.

Phillip nodded, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Alright.” She made a few notes in the notebook she had brought.

Phillip used that moment to look around the room. They had managed to choose a therapist who was willing to come to them, so they didn’t have the security risk of them all leaving the palace together, and Catherine had volunteered one of her rooms to be used. She had called it a ‘neutral area’, but it just seemed like a reminder of what they had lost.

He hadn’t been in her rooms in years.

“Beatrice,” the Doctor continued, looking up,

“Just Bea, please.”

She tilted her head in acceptance, “Bea. Why did you have such a strong objection to this?”

Bea wriggled slightly. “I had to see therapists when I was in rehab.”

“Bad experience?”

“They just dug around in my head and kept asking questions about Dad that I didn’t want to answer, but they forced me to.”

The Doctor’s brow creased slightly. “That won’t be what this is like, you only have to share what you’re comfortable sharing,” she paused to glance around at them, “all of you.”

“Thank you.” Bea mumbled. “But I do think we should start with the death of your father.”

Phillip looked around at their reactions- Bea was steadfastly looking at a spot on the wall over the Doctor’s shoulder, Catherine was attempting to be open and make eye contact, but the effect was mitigated by the tension in her shoulders, and Henry was the only one of them who looked ready to sit through the session. Apparently having individual therapy helped as a preparation for family therapy.

He thought the Doctor might have drawn the same conclusions because she turned to Henry first, “How did you see everyone else’s reactions?”

“Mum pulled away,” he began, quiet but strong, “Phillip was on the other side of the world anyway, but he seemed to think he needed to take over, and Bea became addicted to cocaine.”

She nodded, “It was cancer, yes? So you knew it was coming?”

“That didn’t make it easier,” Catherine objected.

“No, not at all.” She paused, setting her pen down. “In some ways that actually makes it harder, the feeling that you could have saved him in some way or the feelings you get from watching him wither away are ones that you don’t get if people die in sudden and unexpected ways.”

Catherine relaxed back in her seat, frowning down at her hands, as if considering the Doctor’s words.

“So, Henry, you didn’t tell us how you reacted to your father’s death.”

Henry froze, obviously not expecting that question, “I saw everyone else’s reactions.”

“And you lived your own.”

“I guess I just pushed myself to be perfect.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m seeing some similarities here in your reactions: both Catherine and Bea pulled away from reality while Phillip and Henry tried to control what they could.”

“I didn’t pull away!” Bea objected, “I was always there for Henry.”

“Except for the time that you forced him to track you down and talk you into going to rehab.” Phillip found himself firing back.

Bea paused, eyes wide, and then turned to Henry as if she had just had an enormous realisation. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, “I never thought…”

“That’s why we’re here.” The Doctor pointed out gently. “To think about each other.”

Bea nodded, but she was still watching Henry, unsure of his reaction. The Doctor let her for a few moments before moving on.

“You also said that Phillip seemed to think he needed to take over, Phillip do you think that’s an accurate perception?”

“Yes.”

They were obviously all waiting for him to say more, but the words were half forming inside his head and leaving again.

“Alright, why did you take over?”

He paused, remembering the days after his father had died, when their mother had pulled away and refused to leave her rooms and the Queen had dragged him into her position, filling his head with finances and rules.

“Gran said that Mum broke a rule.” He began hesitantly. “She married someone the crown did not approve of.”

He heard his mother’s slightly horrified gasp before she spoke.

“Are you saying she said his death was a punishment for breaking a rule?”

Phillip looked down at the carpet, willing the Doctor to ask another question or change the subject. She didn’t.

“Yes,” he heard himself reply, as if from a distance, “that’s what she implied, she said if I ever broke a rule, things like that would happen to me, and cancer can be genetic so I thought…” he trailed off, the words getting stuck in his throat, but Bea filled in the rest for him.

“You thought me or Henry would die if you stepped out.”

He risked looking up, expecting to be mocked for his stupid ideas, but all he saw was Henry, looking at him like he finally saw him through the façade he always put up.

“And you thought if we stepped out of line, something bad would happen too?” Bea asked, Phillip looked at her and saw the same understanding that had been in Henry’s eyes.

“And something did go wrong.” Henry said, quiet, hushed. “The emails.”

“I just wanted to protect you.” He found himself whispering back. “I’m sorry.”

#red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #writing #writer #writers #my writing #writblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #fanfiction #red white and royal blue fanfiction #rwrb #fiction #flash fiction #short fiction

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