#because imagine living to find the truth that everything was a lie? and the next thing you know

[ephemxras]

winter and summer 💫

[cutielando]

we can't be friends, part 3 | l.n.

synopsis: in which he finally confesses

part 1 part 2

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Lando had never felt as confused and at a loss as he did in the days following the kiss you had shared. 

There was this gnawing feeling that wouldn’t leave him alone, a feeling telling him that he was an awful human being for continuing to deceive you, to lie to you about the past that you two shared and the history between you two. Hiding what happened between the two of you, the deep-rooted pain that he had caused you that had been so hurtful that you had to wipe away every single memory that you had made with him.

He knew that he had got a new chance to love you, to do things right this time around, but was he starting fresh by lying to you from the very first time you bumped into each other again? Was he any better than the first time around?

He had been battling with his thoughts for a good couple of days, trying to avoid having contact with you as much as possible so he wouldn’t be distracted.

You didn’t know how to feel when Lando suddenly started interacting with you less and less as the days went by. Your brain had started overthinking everything you had done the last time you had seen each other, trying to come up with answers about what you did that scared him off.

You came up with no answer.

And yet, the feeling of something being wrong never left your gut. You had had this feeling ever since you and Lando bumped into each other in the paddock. The sense that somehow, you knew him better than you imagined, that there was something more to the two of you than just randomly bumping into each other.

You couldn't shake the feeling over the course of the time you spent together. Your body and mind felt at ease whenever you were around him, like they had known and felt his presence a thousand times already.

The first time you and Lando had seen each other ever since the ghosting period you had been forced into was a week and a half later, when he had called you over to his place to ‘have a talk about everything.’ Deep down in your gut, you knew there was something more to just having a talk, but you went either way, eager to get some answers.

When you arrived at his place and entered the apartment, there was a momentary tension in the air between the two of you.

You awkwardly stood by the entrance door to the living room, Lando sat on the sofa fondling with his hands in his lap.

“Please, take a seat” he motioned, clearing his throat.

You gave him a small smile and sat next to him, keeping a distance between the two of you. Lando noticed that, but chose not to say anything for the time being.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked, cutting straight to the chase.

The suspense had been killing you the entire ride to his apartment, you couldn’t wait any longer to find out why he had called you over.

“Right” he cleared his throat again. “Look, before this goes any further, I thought long and hard about this and decided you should know the truth before anything else happens” he started, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“What truth? What’s going on?” you shuffled closer to him, your knees now touching.

“You see, this isn’t the first time we’ve met” he said, making you feel even more confused. “We were together, a couple of years ago”

“Excuse me? You and I? Together? That’s not possible” you argued, now once again shifting further away from him.

“I know it sounds impossible, but just bear with me. We were together in the past, and we were very happy too, until I screwed things up. I started putting my career and friends above our relationship, we didn’t spend as much time together as we used to, we started fighting a whole lot when we did find time to be in the same room as each other. We were miserable because of me at the end” he said, hanging his head low.

You shook your head, your mind trying to wrap around the information you had just heard. It was just not possible, was it? You didn’t remember anything that he was saying, so how could you forget something like that?

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but this is insane. You realize that, right?” you said, standing up and pacing around the room.

“I know. We broke up after I forgot the anniversary dinner plans we had made weeks in advance. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday, the hurt in your eyes still haunts me to this day. You cut off all contact with me and a couple of months after, your sister told me that you had got a procedure done to wipe your memories of our relationship and me”

You stopped in your tracks, your eyes wide. All of those times that your gut told you that you knew this man, that you had been with him before somehow, it all made sense now. You wiped your memories of him, but your body couldn’t deny the effect that he had on you still.

“I know you hate me right now, and rightfully so. The moment I saw you those months ago in the paddock felt like the universe had finally given me a chance to start over, to do better this time. I would never, ever even dream about hurting you again like I did the first time around. You deserve so much better than that and I want to give you the world. I decided to tell you this so we wouldn’t start anything based on a lie”

You bit your lip, turning back to look at him.

The look in his eyes, so desperate for you to say something to him, was the most sincere one you had ever seen. Your brain was telling you to get the hell out, run away and forget about ever starting anything with the man that had hurt you once. But your heart was doing the exact opposite: what if you two meeting again was indeed a sign? A sign that you were meant to try again, give it one more shot?

You didn’t know what to do.

Your mind and your heart were waging a war inside of you, and Lando could see the turmoil behind your eyes. He knew he had just ambushed you with so much information that you had to comprehend, and he wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with him from that point onwards.

“Can I have some time to think it through before I make a decision?” you asked, looking at him.

He nodded immediately, getting up to stand in front of you.

“Take all the time you need. No matter the decision you decide to take, I’m going to respect it” his words made you smile sadly and nod. 

You placed a kiss on his cheek as you made your way towards the front door, leaving the apartment and a broken Lando behind.

Lando felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, but another one, even heavier, had taken its place. He knew, deep down, that he had just done the right thing for the both of you. Then why did it feel so wrong? Why did it feel like he just killed your relationship for good?

Sighing, he couldn’t do anything else other than wait for you, make sure to give you space and hope that you decide he’s not a total creep and he’s worth your time.

Your thoughts were scattered all over the place as you walked through the streets to your apartment. The information you had just been fed swirling around in your mind at lightning speed. You didn’t know what you were supposed to believe, what you were supposed to think of the whole situation.

Does Lando deserve a second chance? Has he really changed as much as he says? Or had he just jumped at the chance to use you and the fact that your memory was altered to weasel his way into your life again? 

Was getting in bed with him after what he had done dangerous?

Maybe.

But something deep inside of you was telling you that maybe, just maybe, this is how things were supposed to happen.

You had been so deep in thought that you didn’t realize where you were. You were expecting to find yourself in front of your apartment building, ready to think about it and have a good night’s sleep.

And yet, your feet had had a mind of their own. Only explanation as to why you stood, once again, in front of Lando’s apartment door. Deep down, despite all of the things that you thought you had to think about, your heart had already decided for you. 

Knocking on the door, you didn’t need to wait for too long before Lando opened the door, standing there with a confused expression.

“Y/N?” he asked as he watched you enter the apartment, closing the front door behind him.

“I know I said I needed some time to think everything through, but the truth is I don’t need time. I don’t remember anything about us before, and I don’t want to remember. Us meeting and reconnecting again shows me that we’re supposed to try this out one more time. Forget about the past and turn over a new leaf” you explained, watching the stress leaving his shoulder and his frown turn into a smile. 

Lando let out a sigh of relief as he listened to you, his plagued mind finally being set free. He didn’t know what to say to you, so he did the next best thing he knew.

He closed the gap between the two of you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you as if his life depended on it, having been deprived of your touch for way too long. 

You gasped, the feeling of his lips on yours sending shocks all throughout your body. He felt so good, his lips on yours feeling like they were made for each other, like two pieces of a puzzle.

And then, you knew, in your heart, that you had made the right decision.

Right?

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[peachesofteal]

That nurse au? Devoured it and it lives in my brain rent free. If Simon and Johnny notice the bruises on Nurse do they share looks? Maybe Johnny tries to gently ask about them? I loved this so much.

Anon is referencing this. The way nurse x ghoap has spread through my brain like a flesh eating bacteria is insane. And I can't actually answer this ask because I'm writing it as a fic but I'm happy to give you a little possible snippet/glimpse/ramble down below:

The tablet in your hand chimes, drawing your attention away from the vending machine and to it's far-too-bright-for-this-ungodly-hour screen, to where it displays a status change in red.

268: 38.5 degrees.

Fuck. You abandon your sub par dinner options for nearly sprinting to the room, slowing to a walk to take long, deep breaths before your knuckles are rapping on the glass. Get control of yourself. Simon is too perceptive. He will panic. It could be nothing.

You don't even bother acknowledging your thought process there, the truth that is starting to bleed from your heart, through your body like a disease. The reason why you check on them so often, the reason why you can't stop thinking about them, even when you're off shift. The reason why, when you go home in the morning to go to bed, you drift off thinking about Johnny's sleepy smile, or Simon's voice, humming in your ears.

"Hi." You whisper when you slip inside. He straightens a bit in the armchair, but you're happy to see he's using it as a recliner now, progress from last week when he wouldn't even let himself lean backwards, or fall asleep willingly.

His brow furrows above the black mask.

"Hey, everything alright?" Shit. You're not surprised, you were just in here, after all. Spending too much time sitting in the chair opposite him, next to Johnny, on your break before your patient fell asleep.

"Yeah, I ah... have to draw some blood." You really do not want to wake him up, or alarm Simon, but you also refuse to lie to either of them. You fire off a text to the attending on call, just to advise him of Johnny's temperature and the impending labs that he can expect, before sliding a drawer open as softly as possible and pulling out everything you'll need. You can feel his gaze burning a hole in your scrubs, his ever present scrutiny impossible to escape. Sometimes you think he might be reading your fucking mind.

"He just fell asleep." He protests, and you think, you imagine, that he's frowning behind the mask. You think you almost know what it looks like, strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation, wide jaw gnashed tight.

"I know, but he's running just a bit of a fever." He jolts, and you hold up a hand in caution. "It's not too high, so I'm not super worried, but we'll need to check his white cell count, just in case okay? And then we'll go from there."

"Post op fever is common." He repeats the words you told him last week, after Johnny's second surgery, the one where they went in for the pneumothorax complication, and you nod to reassure him.

"Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what's going on." Simon shifts uncomfortably, but nods. You squeeze Johnny's shoulder softly, before swabbing the spot on the inside of his elbow.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he looks from his partner, over to you.

"There's our girl." He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction. Simon coughs, loudly, and you shake your head with a nervous smile.

"Such a flirt, MacTavish." You tie him fast, fingers a little more clumsy than usual, off balance from hearing him say 'our girl', like you mean something to them. "I just need to get some blood and then I'll leave you in peace." He shrugs, but Simon grabs for his hand and squeezes it.

"Ah come on, Si." He slurs, but reaches to cup Simon's cheek over the mask, rubbing a thumb over the fabric.

"You're runnin’ a fever, Johnny."

"Ach. 's nothing." He brushes it off, but you watch how his eyes are slow to track Simon's movements. You casually glance at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

"Could be." You assure him. "But can't be too sure, so we're going to check a few labs, alright?" He nods, sleepy, already falling back under, and you pull the needle, taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture in one fell swoop. “Alright. Let me run these down, and I’ll be back up to check on you in a bit.” You turn, stripping your gloves off into the trash.

“We’ll miss ye.” He whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully, even as your stomach clenches.

Simon’s eyes don’t leave you for a single second, not until the door is shut and you’re out of sight.

[andy-wm]

I’ve just been listening to a podcast about the fabric of reality, and came on here for a bit of downtime. And lo and behold, you’re talking about reality and time passing, and that’s exactly it.

No matter what we think, no matter what we say, or theorise or claim, we don’t alter the truth, and that stands for everything that doesn’t pertain to us.l and our own lives.

I can think the earth is flat till the cows come home (I don’t, obviously) but that doesn’t alter reality. 

Same goes for Jimin and JKs relationship. I’ve seen people claim wild theories, bending and stretching to reach conclusions far outweighing a k drama or blockbuster movie, whereas I personally, think mundanely and simply, that they are together. 

Whose right? We don’t know. 

That’s the truth. We don’t know. 

We may never know, we may find out one day?. 

I’m saying this with a smile on my face because that’s the beauty of life right, as long as we are not harming others, or coming into others spaces and shouting. As long as we aren’t being disrespectful to others, and to Jikooks bond. 

I will say this though, an actual truth people seem to forget or quickly dismiss across the fandom as a whole, is that those men chose to enlist together and whatever we may think of their relationship that is what happened and we should do well to remember that. 

Hey Anon, that's what i call serendipity.

And I love this ask, thank you!

I absolutely agree, what we know - or think we know - has no impact on what truly is.

Even when we believe we know all there is to know, new discoveries and new understanding mean - hopefully - we're constantly learning and reassessing.

When it comes to Jikook, Occam's razor is my go-to: the simplest explanation is, in fact, usually the best. We don't need convoluted plots and schemes and conspiracy theories. There's enough information staring us in the face.

Sometimes we need to untangle that information - I'm not saying we should accept everything on face value - and we do have to look out for new information so we can adjust our understanding.

But that is the case with everything on earth. There is no static knowledge.

These things add layers of richness and complexity but they don't change the basic premise of our underatanding.

That understanding, for me, is that these two humans love each other.

As you say, there ARE things we definitely know, like their companion enlistment.

Like the fact that Jimin chose to have JK with him - next to him - when he talked about his depression on Beyond The Star.

We know Jimin flew 28 hours so he could spend 3 days with JK in NY and Connecticut.

We know that JK was ready to crack Yoongi on the head with a frypan when he though Jimin might have been hurt (by a 5g shuttlecock).

We know that JK never harms Jimin - in all the games and jokes they play, he never targets Jimin (spraying his butt with a watergun is not targeting him, before anyone gets huffy. That did Jimin no harm at all.)

We know that Jimin worried over how hard JK was working.

We know JK begged Jimin shamelessly in front of millions of people, to do a weverse live together.

We know JK watched and hyped all Jimin's footage when he was promoting FACE.

We know they jumped into the comments of one another's livestreams several times last year.

We know all these things, but imagine what we don't know.

There's so much we have no idea about.

Hours and hours of footage that never reaches our screens. Months of time they spend together or alone or with family or friends. That's as it should be - their their private lives are just that - private.

Yes, I have a lot of fun picking apart the little glimpses we get into their lives because i enjoy their dynamic so much and because I'm naturally curious (okay, yes, I'm nosy 🤣).

I look deeper not because I'm hunting for lies or flaws, but because these two delight me. Sure I speculate, but i don't purport to know what they are to each other or where their boundaries lie. And I'm happy not to know. Some things are none of my business.

Like you, Anon, I accept that i may never know the true nature of their relationship, and I'm quite okay with that.

In the end what does it matter?

Whatever they are to each other, they're happy, and honestly what more is there to life than love and happiness?

💜💛

[tinkerbelle05]

Maybe We’ll Get Through This Part 1

Characters:Jaime Reyes x Pregnant!reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You find out that you pregnant while Jaime is at college and, you have yet to tell him.

Warnings: alludes to past sexual experiences, talks of pregnancy, adoption, and abortion, talks about financial insecurity, arguing, lying

Special thanks to @scryarchives for their help!!🫶🏿

-

You’ve been counting down the dreaded day since you found out about your pregnancy, the day you told Jaime about it. And about the house. And about the garage closing. And about his father’s heart attack. There was a lot you and his family were keeping from him.

For good reason, of course. Knowing how Jaime is, he’d drop out of college and catchthe next plane to come back home, no matter what anyone said.

And he worked too hard for that to happen or to have unnecessary stress cause him to fail his courses.

At least that's what you said to convince yourself that this was a good idea. But the doubt that laid heavy in your stomach was really convincing you that you were wrong in this decision.

You decided to wear an oversized hoodie even in the sweltering Texas heat. Your bump was growing, and you didn’t want to tell Jaime like this. You wanted to ease him into the news.

You would just have to bring a mini fan, ice cold water, and hope that most places have a working AC unit in them.

All of you huddled into Rudy’s car, and you braced yourself for the long ride. It was at least an hour or so. Maybe you could listen to music to calm yourself down.

Or you could obsessing over how you would break the news to Jaime. It was already nerve wracking telling someone your gonna be a father.

Especially when they are a new grad, especially when you were withholding this information for months, especially when you we’re struggling financially.

God, you should’ve aborted the baby the moment you found out. There was still time to do it, all you had to do was take one little pill. Why did you think this was a good idea? That this was doable?

“Everything will be fine, mija,” Mrs. Reyes attempted to reassure and handed you a tissue.

You gladly took it to wipe your tears and blow your nose, “Thank you, Mrs. Reyes.”

You had to keep your emotions in check if you wanted this to work. I mean if you showed up to the airport with puffy eyes and a snotty nose then you could tell Jaime you just really, really missed him.

Which is a case was true, you had really missed him. You missed hugging him, kissing him, and going on dates. Holding his hand, running your hands through his soft curls.

And didn’t they always say the best lie had some truth to it?

The drive to the airport came and went, everything’s a bit of a blur right now with you focused on how to tell Jaime. Your body’s basically on autopilot and before you knew it, you were in a somewhat crowed airport with good AC.

You felt the nice cool air on your flushed skin and hastily wiped some sweat from your forehead. Now you waited, and there he was. All smiles, with his graduation hat sitting playfully crooked on his head and his carry on trailing behind him.

He hugged Nana first, then Milargo, and Mr. Reyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of Jaime getting peppered with kisses by Mrs. Reyes. Watching him laugh and squirm under her hold, it was cute.

You imagined doing that with you kid one day. Hearing their laughter and whining out for you to stop because it tickled them too much.

No, no you're getting too far ahead now. Let’s just take this one step at a time.

Then it was your turn.

Even though you lived with the Reyes for a year now and were obviously pregnant, you still felt thoroughly embarrassed and self-conscious about showing too much affection in front of them.

So you gave Jaime a hug and quick kiss on the cheek. He held your hand as you made your way to the car and the taco place for lunch.

“How was the flight?” You asked him softly.

“Well, there was a crying baby for like half of the flight so that was great,” he answered sarcastically. “But yea other than that it was alright.”

Your eye twitched at the word “baby” and you felt yourself spiraling.

Does Jaime even want kids?

Does he want them but not right now?

Would he be happy? Angry, that you withheld this information or angry that your pregnant? Angry at both?

“Your sweating,” Jaime noted you. “That’s a pretty thick sweater, aren’t you burning up in that thing?”

You looked at Jaime then shared a knowing look with his sister, “Well, you know what they say Jaime, beauty’s pain.” You smiled tightly at him.

He did not look convinced in the slightest but he didn’t push it, and two continued your easy going conversation until you got to the taco place.

You all filed into the restaurant, at the table that you always sit at because it’s the only one big enough for everyone.

Your mind wandered to the future, as it always does. Would the kid sit on your lap or Jaime’s? Would they have a preference, or just who was holding them at the time? Or will you have to pull up an extra chair and all squeeze to make room?

You cleared your throat and attempted to clear your mind of those thoughts, but you wanted them to happen. You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t want kids, this kid.

But maybe you did want kids?

Or maybe it was just the hormones.

You were starving, the smell was intoxicating and tempted but the thought of food made you nauseous, and this sweater wasn’t making you feel any better.

The waiter came and everyone ordered food but you.

And of course Jaime noticed, he leaned closer into you and whispered into your ear, “Are you sure your okay?”

You brought out your mini fan just for it to blow the hot air back into your face, you winced at the feeling but you nodded your head anyway.

“Of course I am,” you responded. But you felt terrible and it was getting harder to keep the facade up.

Milagro, as observant her brother, noticed this too and huffed, “Okay, he’s had his tacos let’s tell him now.”

The announcement illicit different reactions: Jaime’s was confusion and everyone one else’s was shock. To be honest, there was really no concrete agreed upon time of when you would all tell Jaime the news. The only thing that was agreed on was that we would prolong it as much as possible.

You guessed Milagro was fed up then. You watched as Milagro unceremoniously dumped everything on Jaime; his father’s stroke, losing the garage, and potentially losing the house.

“Wait, so all of you hid this from me? For…for what? So I could focus on some dumb degree and get us more into debt?!” Jaime astonished.

“No, no, you had to focused on school. You worked too hard to give that all up,” Mr. Reyes explained.

“No, no I could’ve been working. I could’ve saved the shop, I….I could’ve been here for my family.” Jaime said. Then he looks at you, “Do you have anything you wanna tell me too?”

You realized that he was joking when he said that but it felt like a big bright light was under you. You wanted to tell him so badly but how?

You've been agonizing over how to do it for months now. What do you say? How do you say it? Do you ease it in or just blurt it out?

Either way, it was now or never.

You took a deep breath, “Jaime, I'm pregnant.”

-

Part 2

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[limerenceheart]

Hello, can i ask about headcannon with Yan!Stellaron Hunters fought The Chosen One!Reader (From Animation vs Animator) and got defeated because reader's insane power (they have heat vision, fire manipulation, ice manipulation, lightning manipulation and more), what would they do to capture reader though ?

hello! i only wrote silverwolf for this request because this is the first time that I've heard about Animation vs Animator and she would find this hardest to do.

trigger warnings - breach of privacy.

silver wolf never liked anything non-digital, the living is something that she couldn't alter with the few taps of a keyboard or having access to the codes of the dna.

the hacker wasn't happy to find out that elios had asked forced her to create a trap weapon to catch one of kafka's past victims from exposing the truth about the stellaron hunters.

cleaning up other people shit, as always.

silver wolf was used to turning a blind eye towards things but whenever blade or kafka would return with her weapon in a bust up state kept driving her nuts.

whoever the target was, their fire manipulation was preventing silverwolf from becoming the winner so the silver hair woman took it to another level.

befriend then betray.

(y/n) was different from what the hacker imagined, her ability should belonged to a sophisticated mature woman but instead a young girl that was too naive and a little bit of a scary cat.

silver wolf understood why the weapons would always be burnt into lava, the girl clearly did not have control over the fire when being in a daunting situation.

"i bribed her so she will stay silent."

blade and kafka just accepted this conclusion, (y/n) was becoming a pain and facing silver wolf's wrath on each failed attempt was not a pleasant thing to experience.

it was a lie though, silverwolf just never revealed her true colours and if (y/n) somehow did managed to pluck up the courage, she would just easily be able to shut everything down since (y/n) accepted her present of a mobile phone.

"the phone is know for the security features."

(y/n) fell for that too, never realising that silverwolf would monitors her messages and catch glimpses of her from the camera.

it's a shame because the hacker took a photo of everything.

but sometimes, silverwolf needed to resist the urge from installing a virus on the electronic device when getting certain messages from others.

(y/n) belong to her and the only thing silverwolf wanted to do was invite (y/n) to play video games with her and take it to the next step.

[satanic-fruitcake]

6 notes? yeah that’ll do.

spoilers for… everything, all throughout, specifically The Peacekeeper Wars. Also a warning for a bit of mild sanism toward the end, used only for dramatic effect.

I’ll start this off with a general farscape world building theory, and that’s that most, if not all, of the less imaginatively designed species in farscape are simply like that because they’re part Sebacean. Descendants of Sebacean cross-breeding programs from when the Eidolons were trying to make adjustments to their physiology. the Baniks and Kalish, as well as many others, are the living results of this.

Over the thousands of cycles that have passed since these races came around, they’ve evolved, and devolved in completely unexpected ways, (more on that later) and their numbers have grown far greater than the Peacekeepers wanted. This is why, in the present, the PK’s oppose contamination so strongly. And why the Baniks and Kalish are conquered species’s, and kept in servitude. they’re a “mistake”.

I unfortunately don’t have any solid ideas about Kalish, (they have a pinkness about them, and look vaguely reptilian? i was thinking maybe the Pathfinders, but. ehhh.)

The Baniks however. Are none other than descendants of the Sebaceans and Eidolons themselves.

To explain this, i’m gonna need to talk about our beloved leather-clad half Sebacean half Scarran Scorpy.

Scarrans interrogate people by radiating immense heat that, somehow, makes people tell the truth. (this is farscape, don’t ask don’t tell) The Prodigal Grasshopper doesn’t have this ability, but he has something just as good. An unexpected result of his breeding gives him a built in lie detector. The Scarran’s ability is external, Scorpius’s ability is internal.

Eidolons bring peace externally because they emit a glow that evokes a feeling of calm and neutrality. Baniks inherited an internal version of this ability. “outsiders think that we do not feel, but it’s only that our feelings don’t always show.”

i think this makes sense with how Yondolaow addressed Stark with… familiarity, almost? he understood that him being a Stykera meant that he understood the psyche of those he passes over. This could also effect how Stark Wigged The Fuck Out when absorbing Yondolaow’s knowledge. And also why it worked, instead him just spontaneously combusting or something.

Now, about the Stykera. Stark’s character profile claims that a Stykera is simply a particularly special sub-species if Banik. I think that’s bullshit, in the sense that it’s a common, galaxy-wide misconception, and that there are even some Baniks who don’t know the truth. Also, i just kinda find that explanation boring. So, my theory is this:

this next part is in direct contradiction to Stark referring to his own body as a “molecular creation” but i’ll be honest. i just don’t give a shit.

The Stykera are different race to Baniks entirely. A formless, non-corporeal race who can only live in this realm by finding a body to house their soul. The Baniks, for whatever reason, perhaps their mental abilities and stoic fortitude, perhaps their peaceful ways due to their connection to Eidolons, are the only species able to house them.

The transference of souls - or possession, whatever word you prefer - happens at birth. The Stykera’s soul and the Banik child’s just. swap places. with the Banik starting the process of becoming a Stykera. Energy, able to view our realm but not experience it until however many cycles it takes for the Stykera inhabiting their body to die. They’re then transferred, randomly, into a Banik being born. and the cycle continues.

now we go into general headcanon territory.

This viewing of the world is vital, because so is their duty to the dying. and the only preparation Stykera get for the real world. and, hey, it’s more than humans get. Unfortunately, if Stykera are anything inherently, it’s emotional. empathetic. easily overwhelmed. They have an utter inability to develop a thick skin, to become desensitised, because it would interfere with their duty. Selflessly giving souls passage to the other side at the detriment to your own sanity requires boundless empathy. Banik wilful stoicism doesn’t come naturally to them, it has to be learned, with time, nurture and great self control. all of these are difficult to come by in slavery. Not to mention how few and far between Stykera are. Stark’s ability to achieve calmness and serenity when performing his duty is the best you can expect. from as early as birth, Stykera are so rarely sane.

…. so that’s my theory! thanks so much of you’ve read this far, please reblog if you like because ive had this rattling around in my head for months and it’s 2:40 am because it’s taken me nearly two hours to finally get it written down.

[alwayzraven]

Kardeşlerim Ep 103

Elif didn’t believe what Sengul said. Ayla told her that Sengul was drunk. Berk couldn’t lie to her anymore and told her that what Sengul said was true, that they are siblings. They went home, Elif was in denial, she thought Berk and Ayla were messing with her. Ayla told her that Berk is her twin brother. She told her how she couldn’t have a kid and how she wanted to take them both but Resul refused. She said that her dad asked Resul:"which one do you want?" and Elif went crazy because they were babies and they were treated like objects to be sold. Elif said that her father was capable of doing that but her mom wouldn't. It’s sad how Elif thinks her mom is an angel when she went to Ayla to ask for more money. Ayla brought the papers she had with Berk and Elif’s information. Elif asked Ayla if that’s how they found her and Ayla said that it was a coincidence, Sengul knew her mom. Elif thought that Ayla wanted to bring the two siblings together and that’s why she wanted Elif to live with them. Elif told her that she was a good person. Elif asked Ayla who was born first and she said Berk. She was so happy that she has an older brother now. They didn't tell her how her mom died. Elif asked Berk when he found out and he said that he found out recently. Elif understood that Berk and Ayla fought and Berk left the house because of this. She also remembered how Berk was nice to her at school. Elif hugged Elif and she told him that she didn't want him to leave.

She told him to stay with her and he agreed:”Okay, I am not going anywhere, I am going to stay here with you”.

Ayla told Berk that she was happy he was coming back home and he told her he was doing it for his sister and not her.

Next day at school, Berk and Elif came together. Berk said that if anyone touches Elif, they will find him in front of him. Elif told him that she can protect herself. Omer asked Mahir when his sibling was going to come out 😂 Listening to them talk about siblings, Tolga remembered Leyla. I wonder if this means the truth about her accident will soon come out.

Lydia made fun of Elif for liking Oglucan. Lydia told her:”at least I have a chance but you don’t” Susen told her that she probably didn’t beat her up enough last time and Aybike was like:”wait you beat her up?”. I completely forgot that Aybike didn’t know about this, but her reaction was so funny 😂 Elif told Oglucan that she has a boyfriend and then she held Tolga’s hand. After the chaos ended, Berk came with coffee for Elif and study notes. Then Tolga came into the classroom and Berk asked him when he and Elif started dating. 

I feel like Berk didn't believe them, He had a "this is so sus" look

I am not the biggest fan of Tolga but the way Yasmin talked to him when Mahir told her that he doesn’t like her was disgusting and disrespectful 😬😬 

Aybike and Berk went to take a walk by the sea after school. This scene was an ad for a laundry detergent.

Aybike:”isn’t this nice? We came after school to get some clean air. It looks like the grass was cut recently, it smells nice”

Berk:”Yes, I like this smell so much.”

Aybike:”Okay, I have a question for you! I am wondering, has Berk Ozkaya ever rolled in the grass before?”

Berk:”It’s a nice question! Unfortunately, I didn’t, my mom didn’t let me”

Aybike:”Okay, fortunately, I am by your side now and everything has a start”

Berk:”No way, Aybike! Am I a kid to roll like that in grass?”

Aybike:”Yes, of course”

Berk:”There are people, can’t you see? They will say we’re crazy”

Aybike:”Forget about the people! Let them say whatever they want to say! Also, it is our greatest right to misbehave.”

Berk told her that their clothes will get dirty and Aybike told him to just lay down on the grass. Berk layed down but he was saying that people were looking at them.

Aybike felt that her sweater got wet and Berk said the grass is wet that’s why. Their sweaters got dirty and Berk was worried about people looking at them. 

Aybike:”Imagine that you got back from the stadium”

Berk:”and you were our goal keeper, right?”

Aybike:”Yes”

Berk:”Mashallah, my love”

Elif and Berk were studying. Berk borrowed his mom’s tablet but  he didn’t ask her first. Elif liked how Berk called her “sister”. She pinched his cheeks.

Then she said she got an idea and pinched his arm. Berk asked why she did that.

Elif:”Don’t they say twins feel each other's pain? I was wondering if I would really feel your pain”

Berk:”ThEy FeEl EaCh OtHeR’s PaIn. Did you feel it?”

Elif:”No, it was a lie, I didn’t feel anything”

Then, Ayla brought katayef (it’s a dessert ). Ayla saw the tablet and she panicked. She has a copy of the video of Veli’s murder on it, she copied it before she showed it to Akif. Berk thought her reaction was weird and thought she was hiding something. Elif tried to feed Berk but he said he doesn’t eat sugar and that his mom knew about this but maybe she was doing it on purpose bc she doesn’t want him to stay fit 😂 I CAN'T WITH THIS DRAMA QUEEN 😂

The next day, Berk told Omer that they called them to do a test shoot. Berk’s friend called him and told him that they needed models and Berk and Omer applied. Aybike was supportive but Susen didn’t like it because she knew exactly where this was going 😂 When they got to the studio, Susen was surprised that there were only female staff. One of the staff told her that the director doesn’t work with men, she only works with women, the industry was dominated by men anyway. At first, Aybike was supportive then Susen told her to look at the makeup artist who was doing Berk’s make up. Aybike started to get jealous. She told the makeup artist that Berk’s freckles were so beautiful so she shouldn’t cover them with foundation. The makeup artist got annoyed with her and told her to leave. Omer was up first, then Berk was next then both of them were photographed together and then the director said:”Bring out the models!”

Aybike and Susen:

Then the director told them to stand closer to each other. She said she wants to feel that energy and Susen was like:”I think I am feeling a lot of energy, we’re done here”

Aybike was calling Berk but he was enjoying the fact that she was jealous 😂

Director:”okay kiss him”

Susen:”KISS WHO?”

The girls couldn’t wait for the shoot to be over and then they dragged their boyfriends out of there. They were walking by the sea when the sprinkles went off and we got one of the most beautiful scenes in this season. Berk of course was super thirsty despite all the water coming out of the sprinkles around him. 

Concerning Sarp and Asiye in this episode, they have been at each other's throat. Sarp has a nickname for Asiye: “kıvırcık” which means “curly” because her hair is curly. Unlike Omercik, it’s not a nickname that’s meant to make fun of her, it’s actually a nice nickname. He used it non-stop in this episode. I am just wondering if they are really making Assar happen now that Mahir is out. Some Asdor fans think that it was their “power” who kicked Mahir out of the show and not Mark’s bad acting. I saw one of them saying we’re gonna do the same to Sarp except Atakan can act and he is not going anywhere unless the writers decide to. Anyway, back to Sarp’s accident, Sarp wanted Asiye to delete the video. I think he was afraid of his mom finding out that he wrote those bad stuff about her on the walls but still, I think after his fall and if he explains to his mother that he was trying to kick the Erens out, she will forgive him so I am curious about why Sarp will defend Asiye. It’s not clear if it’s Sarp who pressed charges or if it was Seval. The police will come and ask him about how he fell at the hospital so let’s see what he’ll say then.

In the teaser, it looks like Aybike went to Berk’s house.

Berk:"I love you more than you love me"

The teaser shows Berk holding a clip that says "You have a message" then when he opens the clip it says "I love you".

Aybike probably gave him this clip. I just love how she has been showering him with love lately ❤️

[golden28s]

Bless your mind for this prompt <3 @callivich this is my first time writing for weekly prompt @galladrabbles i hope you all like it ! and let's collectively and as a society ignore all the possible typos

Prompt: dream

He doesn't remember the day but he knows it's February, it's cold and they fought.

It's snowing outside, he can see it because they don’t have curtains yet but he’s convinced that's not the reason why he's cold or the room itself it's cold. It has to be Ian's absence. And the bed feels too empty and it's overwhelming, terrifying and the loneliness and dense silence that goes with it it's heavy and in Mickey's mind is like a fog that is slowly invading his ribcage and at some point will transform into guilt and grow there like a poison ivy.

They fought and he knows he's not always good at his whole marriage thing, he knows it's not entirely his fault because he hasn't grow up around a healthy happy marriage or just a marriage, he hasn't seen that, he's trying and improvising. But sometimes he would die for a script, for the next line to be the right one and not see Ian's disappointment again, not hear the door closing announcing that Ian left. And he knows too that Ian will be back, he knows they will talk but that doesn't stop his mind from imagining when his eyelids give up and he falls asleep.

He's still there but it's the next morning, stays in bed in silence for a few second trying to hear something that tells him Ian is back but nothing.

Only a deafening silence that breaks the moment his heart starts racing and then the only thing he can hear is his own panic and fear. He searches in every room, he calls and no one answers and then he opens the closet.

His clothes are there. And that's it, only his clothes. He tries to breathe, blinks too rapidly trying to stop the tears, his own heart beat is still too loud and he can't think and Ian's not here, Ian left, Ian left him.

They fought, Mickey slept alone and Ian left and didn't leave a trace behind only in Mickey's skin, in Mickey's memories and the photos they hung on the living room that now will look at Mickey and remind him that he could've had everything.

Ian left

Ian left

Ian left

He wakes up almost violently and tries to calm his racing breath and heart, tries to take a deep breath, looks around and practically runs towards the closet. Ian's clothes still there but not Ian.

Mickey sighs

"Stupid, Gallagher"

He doesn’t remember the day but it's February, it's cold and he just found Ian, he's sitting in the old Gallagher's house porch. He sits in silence next to him.

"I miss you"

Ian tries to not smile

"I left two hours ago"

And Mickey could pretend and lie or make a joke but he doesn't choose to do any of those things.

"I know but I don't want you leave" the truth is it, then "not even for two hours"

He sees Ian's expression softening even more and something bright invading his green eyes, they intertwined their fingers and Mickey can't name any other thing that feels more right than this.

"I'm sorry" says, Ian still looking at him "I'm trying to learn as fast as I can how does this marriage thing works but I improvise most of the time"

Ian laughs faintly, Mickey smiles at the sound of his laugh.

"Good thing that we're on the same page" says and Mickey nods with his smile intact "we can learn together"

"Let's do that"

Ian smiles wider and kisses Mickey and he thinks this might be how coming home feels like.

"You came to find me too quickly" Ian notices "Did something happen?"

Mickey shakes his head "Nothing important"

Ian's here, Ian's with him and that's important. Nightmares won't take Ian away from him.

[sixthfinger]

im listening to 36 questions for the billionth time and imAGINE LIKE. A REAGAN/STAEDTLER 36 QUESTIONS AU. very loosely based on the musical. THE GIST OF IT:

- reagan, a few years down the line, regrets leaving staedtler and goes to appleton to find martin higgins

- they meet!! and she Planned on telling him the truth but in the moment she panics and gives him a fake name and then just. commits to the bit.

- they date, fall in love again, get married, move in together. they live happily ever after...

-...until on their two year anniversary, someone from cognito inc shows up at their house. brett, maybe, idk. martin opens the door and its some guy he doesn't know, looking for someone named reagan?? who is reagan??

- reagan comes to the door.

- and brett is all like reagan!!! you're here!!!! while martin is just. confused.

- he eventually asks brett about who reagan is. brett answers honestly

- they send brett on his way.

- "was he telling the truth? did you really lie about who you are?"

- "...well, you seeeee..."

- she tells him everything.

- everything. her work, her past, her fake name, cognito inc, her parents, and...

- ron staedtler.

- at first, he's angry. he trusted her, and she lied about so much. he leaves, spends the night in a motel to cool off.

- but by morning, he's got a new sense of understanding. if she's telling the truth about this whole shadow government thing, then-- wow. that's a lot of pressure for one person to handle. and she may have lied about her name and her past, but it would be pretty hard to fake a personality for this long.

- he really does love her, so he returns home. she's waiting for him in the living room. there are tears in her eyes and an object he doesn't recognize in her hands.

- "i'm sorry," she says. "i can leave, if you'd like. i'm sorry i lied. i'm sorry i left you, all those years ago. i'm sorry about all of it. but... i love you, and i want you to know that. and it is because i love you that i want to leave you with this."

- she hands over the thing she's holding. a weapon, of some kind.

- "it's a memory eraser," she says. "you can--"

- "reagan!" he cries out, dropping the memory eraser and clutching her hands. she freezes, looking up at him with wide eyes.

- "i want to remember."

- they hold each other for a little while. they both cry. the next morning, they leave for washington dc.

- the team is shocked to see her. it's been years since they’ve heard from her, with the exception of brett who was sworn to secrecy before he left appleton. the team is even more shocked to see ron staedtler.

- reagan heads down to the basement, where all her things ended up when she left. she puts together something akin to the memory device from the end of pt1. it's a process, but a few long hours later, she thinks she may have succeeded in getting staedtler's memories back.

- she waits anxiously for him to wake up. when he does, she holds her breath.

- "reagan ridley," he calls out.

- she nods, hope bubbling in her chest.

- "you saved me from hell, once."

- relief fills her, along with love and excitement. she hadn't told him the details of that particular encounter, which means that...

- "you remember?"

- he nods. "i remember."

- they both smile.

[skeptical--sighing]

Okay so I know we're all very pro the Byers stay with the Wheelers and Mike and Will share a bed but what if the first time they actually share a bed is in The Upside Down? Like Will goes into The Upside Down and Mike follows him. And after a day of trying to find Vecna but not having any luck the two of them are just too tired to continue. So they make a plan to stop where they're at and sleep for a little bit.

They find a nearby house and climb up its stairs to find two children's bedrooms, each with a twin-sized bed pushed in their corners, and a master bedroom with what looks to be a queen-sized bed. Will hesitantly mentions that he could take what looks to be the girl's room and Mike could take the boy's, but instead Mike proposes (to Will's shock) that they should share the master bedroom bed. For safety reasons. If a monster were to attack it would be best for them to be immediately next to each other than in two separate rooms. And Will agrees.

So they sheepishly mozy into the master bedroom, picking their sides of the bed. And after moments of avoiding each other's glances and overthinking every move their body makes, they finally lie under the blankets. Next to each other.

Will is so tired. He knows this and is trying so hard to sleep but his brain won't let go of the idea of a Demogorgon attacking them while they're passed out. He roles on this side to tell Mike who, it turns out, is awake and looking right at him, despite his previous claims of exhaustion. And he swears that Mike is closer than he was when they laid down, but maybe he's imagining things.

He asks Mike why he's still awake, and Mike whispers that he wanted to make sure Will was able to fall asleep before he let himself drift off, because he knows sleeping can sometimes be hard for Will.

Mike then asks him if there is something in particular that is keeping him awake. And Will hesitates for a moment, but then remembers this is Mike that he's talking to and reveals what is actually going on.

Mike listens and then suggests that he can stay awake and keep watch while Will sleeps because he's Mike and of course he does. He says it like sacrificing his own well-being to take care of Will is the foremost and only logical thing to do. And Will agrees, but only on the account that they'll switch off when he wakes up.

So Mike props himself up and begins to plan a new Dnd campaign in his mind. But when he glances over to check on Will, he notices that he is asleep, but now he is shivering. And so he does what his first instinct is. What he always wants to do when he and Will are writing or drawing in one of their bedrooms or watching movies in the basement. What he always has to stop himself from doing when he remembers that one of their family members could barge into the room at any moment and catch them in the act. But in The Upside Down, there is no one here to lecture them about what is right and wrong for two boys to be doing together. So he takes a deep breath and whispers into the cold and thick air "Will, come here".

And Will, with groggy eyes lifts his head to look at Mike and croaks "what?"

"Um, I just noticed you looked really cold" Mike blushes, trying to tell Will the least vulnerable truth. It is true that he wants to help Will get warmer, but he wants Will next to him too. With everything going on, who knows how many more chances they'll have like this, let alone days to live.

So he gingerly reaches across the bed and wraps his fingers around Will's shoulders. He pauses for a second, giving Will time to tell him "no" or to push his fingers off but Will doesn't do any of these things. Instead, Will begins sleepily scooting across the bed towards Mike, and it might be one of the most endearing things Mike's ever seen.

Will continues moving with the pull of Mike's arms, but stops when he reaches Mike's body. He yawns, then nuzzles his head against Mike's leg and drifts back off into sleep. And this is good, Mike thinks. But it could be better. So with steady hands, Mike moves his fingers underneath Will's head and lifts it, gently placing it on his lap. He runs his fingers through Will's soft yet messy hair, relishing in the feeling of this thing that he had been aching to touch for so many years.

Will sighs as he scoots closer to Mike, and Mike feels the warmth of his body soaking into Will's. Mike does not know what tomorrow will bring. He does not know how the two of them are going to find Vecna and get out of The Upside Down. He does not know how they are going to survive. But he trusts Will. He trusts this boy that is currently curled up in his lap, breathing so softly. And though he is uncertain about what the future will hold, he knows that at least right now, there is still goodness and hope left in the world.

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Chapter 28

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 28: Words

“You look like shit,” Cassian observed.

Azriel grimaced. “Thanks.” 

“If anyone in this room has an excuse to look shitty, it’s me. You know, the one who quite literally came back from the dead,” Cassian said. 

The latter part of his sentence had Nesta, who was curled up on his other side reading a book, whipping her head up to glare at him, the mere mention of his near-death experience sending a tangible rush of distress through her. Cassian patted her hand placatingly. She refocused her attention back on the book, though every once in a while she would shoot her mate a suspicious glance out of the corners of her narrowed, blue-gray eyes.

“Instead,” Cas continued, “well, you know how I look,” he smirked, gesturing to the healthy flush of his skin. “I look absolutely incredible.”

“If I had a gold coin for every time you’ve said that in the past 48 hours, we could move out of the House of Wind and buy a new mansion.” Nesta said dryly. 

Azriel would never admit it to Cassian—his brother needed no extra boost to his confidence—but he did look incredible. His complexion was glowing. His eyes were vibrant and clear. Even the muscles beneath his sun-darkened skin looked stronger and more robust. It was nearly impossible to imagine that only a few days ago, he had been on his deathbed. Now he could very well enter a male beauty contest—and win. He was a living, breathing, walking and talking miracle.

And the shadowsinger was one of only two people who knew just how that miracle came about. And the other person—the miracle-maker herself—was avoiding him like the plague.

Hence why he looked like shit. In the two days since Cassian’s recovery, Azriel hadn’t even seen Elain, let alone spoken to her. Every time he recalled the horrible things he’d said when they were last face-to-face - which he thought about, oh, every other minute or so - guilt and regret threatened to pull him under. 

“And you’re being useless, like always.”

Gods. He didn’t deserve to live after saying that. Or maybe he did deserve to live and have to forever replay the utter devastation that had splashed across her face following his ugly declaration. That seemed like a fair way to pay his penance. 

After she’d left him in the den, he’d wallowed in misery for a few moments before visiting Cassian, confirming for himself that his friend was going to make a full recovery, and drawing up a chair next to his sick bed. He’d barely left his side since, spending nearly every second with him and Nesta in the infirmary. 

Azriel would like to pretend this commitment stemmed solely from being a good friend and wanting to ensure Cassian remained healthy, but that would be a lie. The truth was that he was avoiding Elain just as much as she was avoiding him. 

He’d fucked up—royally—and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t even know how to begin . Words had never been his strong suit, and he didn’t know how to adequately explain how incredibly and deeply sorry he was while also begging for forgiveness and ensuring her that he had not meant anything he’d said. 

Because he hadn’t meant it, not even a little bit. She was anything but useless; she was as bright as the stars in the sky; she was everything . The hurtful words he’d said had been nothing more than an awful defense mechanism. A rudimentary and cruel way to attempt to guard his heart from any more breaking. Even in his head, though, the explanation sounded pathetic and not nearly good enough. 

So he had not even tried to find her yet, because he was unable to stomach seeing her and experiencing her cold shoulder. Or her apathy. Or the wounded hurt in her eyes. Worst of all, he had a nagging fear that the next time he saw her, she was going to end—going to end whatever this thing was between them. And despite thinking only days ago that the culmination of their relationship was inevitable, he found that the thought of letting her go right now was utterly unbearable. 

If she couldn’t speak to him alone, though…well, then she couldn’t end it. And so here he was, camping out in the Manor’s hospital wing like a coward and impeding on Cassian and Nesta’s privacy. 

“So, Azriel, do you still want to have a threesome with us?” 

He blinked, sure that he did not hear Nesta right. But no, she and Cassian were staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply.

“...What?” 

“See, I told you he wasn’t listening,” Cassian nudged Nesta. “Pay up, Archeron.” 

She scowled. “ I told you he wasn’t listening, you brat. Are you sure there aren’t any unfortunate side effects from this so-called near death experience? You seem to be dumber than usual.”

A grin spread across Cassian’s face. “There aren’t any unfortunate side effects, no. However, I can tell you there are some fortunate side effects, my sweet little mate,” he said, tugging Nesta closer to him. “Such as a renewed virility and an entirely new desire to—”

“I have NEVER said I wanted to have a threesome with the two of you!” Azriel said loudly. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

Nesta rolled her eyes good-naturedly and lightly separated herself from Cassian (though only by a few inches, and if Azriel wasn’t so entirely avoiding her icy-blue gaze, he would have noticed that her cheeks were rather red, too). “We made a bet,” she said.  

Azriel opened his mouth, gaping wordlessly like a fish out of water for a few seconds. “What does that have to do with a threesome?” he choked out. 

With a great roar, Cassian burst out laughing and, in typical-Cassian fashion, started rolling around. Nesta giggled, a very not-typical-Nesta thing to do.

Azriel glowered at them. 

“Oh, stop pouting,” Nesta said. “We made a bet on if you were listening to us or not. When it quickly became apparent that you were in a world all of your own, it just escalated into saying the most outlandish things until you finally registered that we were speaking to you.” She shrugged. “You really need to work on your awareness skills.”

Well. That was a humiliating thing to hear as the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“We’re just playing with you, Az,” said Cassian, “but we know you’re hiding out here for some reason.”

Azriel did his best not to give any reaction, but it didn’t matter. His friends had already seen through his flimsy mask of security to what he really was: a distracted, heartbroken fool.

Leaning over, Cassian gave Azriel’s shoulder a rough, encouraging pat. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re here if you need us. You can third-wheel with us anytime you want, buddy.”

“And do let us know about that threesome,” Nesta said off-handedly, returning to her book. 

Azriel shook his head. “Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s joking or not,” he said to Cassian under his breath. 

His friend nodded in understanding. “I know. It’s scary, right?” 

“Thank you,” Nesta said as she turned the page.

Azriel’s shadows suddenly started swirling around him. One sidled up to his ear and whispered. The High Lady approaches with urgent news.

“Feyre is coming. ” he told Cassian and Nesta. The latter frowned. 

“How do you know?” she asked.

He sent her a funny look. “My shadows told me.” Of course , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

But Nesta continued to look disturbed. “I thought your shadows couldn’t hear in the Mortal Manor,” she said slowly. 

It was like an icicle to the heart, sharp in the way his panic hit, melting in the way it cascaded throughout his veins, putting all of his other senses on high alert. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that his shadows could not hear within the Manor; their whispers were a sixth sense to him at this point. 

Except she was right. Until this very moment, he’d never been able to hear his shadows while inside the Manor. Because of…

Instinctively, he stood up.

“Shit,” Cassian exhaled deeply through his nose.

Shit was right.

***

Sometime over the last week, autumn had faded into winter; there were nearly no leaves left on any of the trees, and every morning a thin dusting of frozen dew coated the grounds. Elain usually hated the cold, but for the past two days, the chilly and barren woods had become her solace. Her sanctuary.

She’d spent hours on end finding dead plants and occasionally animals and testing her powers on them. The plants were easy to bring back to life; the animals were not. It made sense; animals were that much more complex, and healing an injured living creature was not nearly as difficult as completely reviving a dead one. Yesterday, though, she’d had some luck reviving a frozen butterfly, so she knew she was improving.

It annoyed her as much as it pleased her that she found mastering her healing magic so much easier than her seer powers, though that, too, made sense to her. Healing was brought forth by love and positive energy; well, Elain had so much love. Sometimes she thought she loved too much. 

Summoning visions, on the other hand, required her to shut off the emotions that came so naturally to her. And while usually this was a difficult feat in and of itself…ever since Azriel had so cruelly cut her down with words in the den, she’d found it nearly impossible to close off her emotions. Found it nearly impossible to feel anything but wretched hurt and anger and betrayal.

How dare he? How dare he say those barbed words to her? He, who more than anyone else, knew just how deep those words would slice at her confidence. She would never have believed the male could say something so callous. And so untrue. Because Elain was not dense enough to take Azriel’s insult seriously. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d brought his best friend back from the brink of death only a few days ago, but she knew without a doubt that she was not useless. And she wasn’t going to let some stupid, insensitive, and annoyingly sexy bat tell her otherwise.

She just wished she didn’t miss him so much. She hadn’t realized how much better she'd been sleeping with Azriel beside her until sleeping next to him was an impossibility. Now, he haunted her dreams like all the other ghosts of her past. 

Ugh . She scowled at herself. She had far more important things to do with herself than wallow in pity over the potential demise of her relationship with the shadowsinger. 

For the past two days, Lucien had been urging her to tell the rest of her court about her newfound powers. She had to admit that he had a point. Ever since Cassian’s “miraculous” healing, everyone had been coming up with theories for how he could have possibly survived such a terminal wound. Each was more ridiculous than the last. 

At first the theories had been relatively plausible. Rhys had suggested that Koschei had never meant to kill Cassian; that his injury was only supposed to push him to the brink of death before whatever magic the death lord possessed pulled him back to the edge of safety. 

“He wants to remind us that he’s in control,” the High Lord had said grimly. 

Now though, days after the fact, the theories had gotten utterly unhinged. Jurian had gone so far to suggest that Cassian was not healed at all and instead was a puppet for Koschei to spy on them all. When Mor came to visit briefly, she’d mused aloud on if Cassian was descended from a rare breed of Fae that possessed miraculous healing properties in their blood. 

“They’re practically invincible,” Mor said, her eyes shining. “That would explain why you’ve survived so many wars while being on the front lines.”

“Yeah, because it can’t just be the fact that I’m the best warrior in Prythian,” replied Cassian in an offended tone.

Elain crept quietly out of the room after that because she was worried the guilty look on her face would give her away. 

She was running out of reasons not to tell the rest of her court and family about her healing powers. In fact, she only had one reason remaining, and it wasn’t a very good one: she just didn’t want to. Not until she was perfectly adept with her magic, at least. It was stupid, but when she finally told the others, she wanted it to be on her terms, and she wanted to be fully capable of healing in every which way. She just couldn’t take any more pitiful looks that implied she was a burden rather than an asset.

First things first: Elain needed a plan of action. And what better way to plan than to see into the future? Sure, she hadn’t had much luck purposefully summoning visions lately…but there was a nagging feeling in Elain’s stomach that told her she had to keep trying. That told her it was imperative that she keep trying. Almost like time was running out, if she was to be that melodramatic and foreboding. 

She sat cross-legged on a small tree stump and closed her eyes. Took a deep, controlling breath. 

What do I want to see? What do I need to see? 

Behind her, a twig snapped. She whipped around, heart thundering in her chest. Her sharp Fae eyes caught a small mouse darting across the forest floor, and she whooshed out a half-frustrated, half-relieved sigh.

“Focus,” she ordered herself. Slowly, she felt her taut muscles relax as a soothing numbness consumed her. Hollowed her. Carved her into a vessel for whatever visions would come her way.

What do I want to see? What do I need to see?

I want to see what to do next , she thought. I need to see the path I must take. The path to where, she was not sure…but she was starting to understand that fortune telling was not an etching of set events into stone; human nature was too fickle for that, too inconstant and dynamic. To be a seer was not to predict with certainty that which was too far away to consider: it was to let the next step in the path be illuminated.

And with that revelation, a vision came to her immediately. 

She was sitting at a long table, tomes haphazardly stacked atop the surface, and was flipping through one of the books with a look of deep concentration on her face. Beside her was Lucien, who was also scouring a thick volume. They were in a library, though that word was far too simple to describe the gorgeous room, with its dark wooden interior and intricate gold detailings and arching windows that revealed the most stunning view of a cloudless cerulean sky and puffy white clouds. The rays of sun beaming into the room had never seemed so bright, so pure. 

The red-haired male beside her excitedly pointed to a passage in the book he was reading. “This could be—oh, never mind,” Vision-Lucien murmured disappointedly, shaking his head. Vision-Elain gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to her own tome.

The loud cawing of a bird jolted her from the vision. Crisp and cool air stung her eyes as they opened. The bleak winter sun traversing through the nearly-barren branches seemed much dimmer than the brilliant light in her vision. A rush of clarity seared through her. 

She knew what she had to do next.

***

If Elain hadn’t been so preoccupied with her most recent vision, she would have noticed how ominously quiet the Manor was upon entering. As it was, her head was so entirely filled with what she’d just seen that she barely noticed where she was going. It wasn’t until she was mere feet away from the throne room that she realized where she was; a moment later she registered Lucien's deep voice sounding from behind the arched doors. Huh. Her subconscious must have led her straight to the person she wanted to talk to. 

Perhaps she should have been a little more aware of her surroundings and registered that there were other voices inside the room, as well. Instead, she barged straight in, throwing the double doors wide open in her haste, and strode right for Lucien.

“We need to talk,” she told him. He blinked down at her in surprise.

“What?” he asked after a moment, his voice strangely hoarse. 

“We need to talk,” she repeated, more urgently this time. “I just had a vision.”

“Elain.” It was Nesta who had spoken. The eldest Archeron sister wrung her hands nervously. “Elain, something has happened.”

Her heart slowed. Glancing around the throne room, she fully registered the others who stood around them—her sisters and their mates, Jurian and a few select soldiers from the legion he commanded. They all wore the same grim and melancholy expression, made even more somber in the dim light from the flickering torches that lined the walls. 

And there, nearly in the corner, half-ensconced in the darkness, was the Spymaster. She couldn’t make out his face—she didn’t allow her gaze to linger on him to seek out his expression—but she could sense his anxiety from the way his shadows tensed and pulsed around him.

“What happened?” 

Silence. When Jurian let out a small sniff, her heart started back up again, racing far too fast.

“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s wrong this instant—”

“It’s Vassa,” Lucien croaked. “Her curse has returned.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Dread was a living thing that moved inside her body; it slithered through her, cold and damning. Despite all the anger she’d harbored toward the mortal queen these past few weeks, all she felt now was pure and utter panic. Not Vassa, no, he couldn’t take her, he couldn’t have her, and oh gods, she was supposed to save her friend, this was her fault, she hadn't tried hard enough, she had not been enough —

“Koschei took her?” she asked fearfully.

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head, blue eyes full of sorrow. “She has not been made to return to the Lake—yet. But she has been forced back into firebird form during sunlit hours.”

Breathing became slightly easier. Vassa was still here; she had not been taken by Koschei. Thank the gods. And yet the fact that her firebird curse had returned did not bode well for any of them, least of all the queen.

“Where is she?” Elain asked, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. Oh, Vassa. Brave and bold Vassa, trapped inside a body that was not her own. An immense pressure bore down upon Elain’s heart.

“She’s circling the grounds.”

As one, they looked out the massive windows overlooking the grounds. There, in the distance, high above the trees, flew a large avian creature. It was colored with brilliant crimson and gold plumage. As they watched, the bird emitted a heartbreaking cry. She immediately recognized it as the call that had roused her from her earlier vision. The lament seemed to echo throughout Elain’s very being, a chilling and sorrowful song that rattled her bones with its intensity. 

“What do we do?” Jurian asked.

“There is nothing we can do right now,” said Rhys. “It seems the only way to free Vassa of the curse is to destroy Koschei. Our best chance of doing that is to wait until the ball, when we can put our plan into action. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, but…” he trailed off as Lucien started pacing furiously, his hands cupping the back of his neck, the scent of his frustration clouding the room. 

He spun around and pointed at Elain.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping her.” His good eye was bright with rage.

Shock rendered her silent for a moment. “What?” she finally replied. 

“You were supposed to use your powers to find a way to rid her of this horrible enchantment,” he said loudly, voice shaking. “To figure out how the hell we can stop Koschei.” 

“Lucien,” said Feyre, her voice low with warning. “Stop. Your frustration is misplaced.”

What the fuck was with all these alpha-Faes thinking they could yell at her? Well, she’d had enough. “As a matter of fact,” Elain cut in angrily, “I just had a vision that told me what our next step should be. Now can I share it, or do you have any more unfair and unfounded accusations to throw my way?”

Everyone blinked. Lucien’s face turned nearly as red as his hair as he took an embarrassed step backward, averting his eyes.

A few moments of awkward silence passed. “Well, what was your vision, Elain?” Jurian asked breathlessly.

She relayed the details quickly. 

“I was with you?” Lucien asked once she’d finished.

“Yes,” Elain replied shortly, not bothering to look at him. 

“This library,” Rhys mused, “do you know where it is?”

“I’ve never been there before...but yes, I think I know where it is. I believe it’s at the Day Court.”

“The Day Court?”

“Yes. It’s just a hunch, but it feels right.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing on. “May I take a look inside your mind and confirm? I’ve been to the Day Court library before, you see.” 

She eyes her brother-in-law with thinly-veiled suspicion. Did she really want to give him permission to sift through her memories? There were some things she’d rather he never see (and a lot of them involved her sex life with a certain someone). But at this point, Elain knew her mental magic was good enough that she’d be able to put up a decent fight. Besides, as misguided and arrogant as he could be, she didn’t think Rhys was cruel enough to invade her most private thoughts.

Nodding once at Rhys, she relaxed and lifted the mental barriers inside her head. His eyes focused elsewhere; a moment later, he blinked. “Yes. That is the Day Court library. You are clearly meant to find something important there.” 

She nodded back in agreement. “I don’t know how exactly it will help Vassa, but I know that it’s going to,” Elain said, and saying the words out loud had her feeling even more sure of their truth. “I just can’t see the end result yet. Which means I need to go to the Day Court. And you,” she turned to fix her gaze at Lucien, a little unwillingly, “have to come with me.”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. “Me?”

Elain frowned. “Yes, you. No one else was in the vision.” 

“Oh, right,” he said, ducking his head. 

Gods. And she was the useless one? Resisting the urge to throw something, Elain continued in a steady voice, “With your permission, High Lord and High Lady, and of course the blessing of Lord Helion, I would like to visit the Day Court as soon as possible. With Lucien, too, if he agrees to come,” she added.

“I’ll come,” he said quickly.

“The Day Court?” Feyre said, and perhaps Elain was imagining it, but she thought she detected a hint of nervousness in her sister’s voice. “Just the two of you?” 

Rhys sent his mate a loaded glance. What the hell is going on? Elain thought, bemused.

Then a deep voice spoke from the far end of the room, effectively stealing all of her attention. “If you need someone else to go, I’m happy to accompany Elain, as well,” the Spymaster said. 

She stiffened, her gaze flicking to where Azriel leaned against the far wall, wearing his shadows like a second-skin. Even in the semi-darkness, his glowing hazel eyes were piercing as ever, and they were directed straight at her. She hated her traitorous heart for stopping mid-beat in her chest. 

“I don’t think Elain and I need a chaperone, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien said. Still caught in Azriel’s intense gaze, she watched as his expression turned dark and dangerous (or, well, darker and more dangerous than usual). 

“Careful, Vanserra” the shadowsinger warned quietly. Elain would never admit it, but the deep, raspy timbre of his voice made her unnaturally hot between the legs. 

“Or what?” Lucien sneered.

“Knock it off, you two,” Nesta snapped. 

The two males immediately obeyed her elder sister and went silent, but the daggers they glared at each other were as sharp as ever. 

Now Elain was more than annoyed. She was ready to be done with this conversation.

Taking a deep breath, she collected herself, then faced Rhys and Feyre. “Well? May we go?”

Apparently the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court had already discussed the matter mind-to-mind. 

“Yes. You may go. I’ll reach out to Helion at once,” Feyre answered. “I am sure he will be more than fine with it.” Once again, there was a guarded expression on her sister’s face that Elain could not quite comprehend. She’d have to ask her about it later. “Upon receiving Helion’s blessing, you, Lucien and I will depart for the Day Court immediately.”

“You’re coming with us?” she asked in surprise.

“I have other matters to discuss with Helion, so yes, I’ll be joining you.” 

Well, that was a relief. If she was going to have a third companion, Feyre was a much preferable option than Azriel. She felt sick even thinking about the sheer awkwardness of trying to make conversation with Azriel and Lucien together. Hells . She shook off the disturbing thought. 

“The Day Court is one of the safest places in the realm, but it’s often in the safest places that we let our guards down,” said Rhys. “Don’t do that. Always be on alert. Keep mental notes of anything odd you notice. And most importantly..don’t do anything risky.”

Elain nodded her acquiescence, pretending she didn’t notice the worried look Nesta sent her way.

Clapping her hands together, Feyre said, “Well, I’m going to get a message to Helion. I’ll let him know this is urgent business. Elain and Lucien, I’d go pack a bag immediately. Chances are Helion will reply in the next hour or so, and we have no time to waste.”

She started to nod again when a thought occurred to her. “If we leave before Vassa…transforms back,” she swallowed down the emotion stuck in her throat, “will you tell her where we went? Will you tell her that we’ll be back soon?”

It was Jurian who replied. “Of course.”

She wished she could be there when the queen returned from her cursed form, but perhaps it was for the best. Elain knew Vassa, and she knew that her prideful and spirited friend would likely not want to speak to anyone for a while. 

“One more thing,” said Rhys. “Make sure you wake up before the sun rises.” 

“Why so early?” she asked before she could help herself.

A small smile tugged at Rhys’ lips. “Believe me. You won’t want to miss the sunrise in the Day Court.”

***

She felt him before she saw him.

“You know, most people would call appearing unannounced in someone’s bedroom an invasion of privacy,” she said, not bothering to pause in her folding of garments as she packed a small bag for her trip. Feyre had informed her just a few minutes ago that Helion had gotten their message and invited them to the Day Court. They’d be leaving as soon as the clock struck noon.

“It’s only an invasion of privacy if it’s an unwelcome visit.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “If you’re waiting on me to invite you in, you’ll be waiting a while, I’m afraid.” 

A heavy silence. “Elain,” he said eventually, deep and demanding. “Look at me.”

No , she wanted to say. No, I can’t look at you, because then I might consider forgiving you, and I’m far too hurt and angry to do that right now. Instead, she said nothing at all.

“Please, Elain,” he said raspily. Her heart seized up and this time, she did pause in her tasks. How could she not when the ring of genuine regret and apology in his voice threatened to melt down her walls of resistance? 

He spoke again. “I messed up.”

She nodded slowly, still facing the other way. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry, Elain. You have to know I didn’t mean it. Even if you can’t forgive me, you have to know that.”

She let out a long sigh. The thing was, she did know that. She knew he didn’t mean what he’d said—but he had meant to hurt her. And that intentionality was what gnawed at her heart the most.

“Yes, I know that,” she said finally, turning to face him.

The wintry afternoon sunbeams shining through the window reflected beautifully against his eyes. It made the deep green warmer; made the gold flecks brighter. He was so beautiful, standing there in his shadows and his sorrow. He was so beautiful, and yet she was still so angry with him that it physically hurt. 

“Do you forgive me?” 

She smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that.”

He made a pained sound in the back of his throat. “Is that why you are going to the Day Court with him?” he asked, and there was a desperation to his tone that she’d never heard before. “Are you doing it to punish me?”

Shock had her taking an instinctive step backward. “When have I ever done something to purposely hurt you?” she asked incredulously. “When have I not had your back? I’m on your team , Azriel. I always have been, and I have always acted with your best intentions at heart. Meanwhile, you’re tailoring your words to hit me where it will hurt me most, and even worse, you are doubting me! Doubting us .”

He flinched. 

She let out a frustrated sigh. “We have less than a month before the ball. Vassa’s curse has returned. Koschei is coming for us. We are running out of time. Everything I am doing is what I believe must be done in order for us to survive the coming storm. I have no ulterior motives.” A pause. “And you have to know I would never hurt you like that. Not intentionally.” Her voice went so low it might as well have been a whisper. “I care for you far too much.”

Anticipation was a restless beating in her chest as she waited—and hoped, and wanted, and wished—for his response to be something substantial, something she could grasp on to. But after several moments of silence, it became apparent that she would wait in vain.

Swallowing down the crushing disappointment, she returned to her packing, hoping he didn’t see her shaking hands. “I’ll see you when I return.” 

In the span of a breath, he was behind her and spinning her around to face him. 

“Please, wait a second,” he said, low and urgent, “I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” she snapped back. A vein in his jaw twitched, and she had the sudden urge to flick it.

“Tell me what you want,then,” he begged. “What do you want me to do? What do you want, ‘Lain?” 

His hands were still on her shoulders, holding her in place, and she seemed to register it at the same time as him. Their eyes met. 

“I want…” she breathed, trailing off as the familiar wave of desire flooded her senses.

She didn’t know who moved first; maybe they moved at exactly the same time, the way they always have, as if drawn together by an invisible magnet, but suddenly his body was mere centimeters away. And then, a beat later, his chest was flush against her own, warm and solid and sculpted like a statue, and her back was arching as one of his hands found the small of her back and the other cradled her face, and the heady, familiar scent of him made her as lightheaded as southern wine—

Gods. Gods . How could it still be like this? She thought her desire for Azriel would have been quenched at this point. Somewhat sated, at the very least. And not only because of their recent argument, but because they’d been sleeping together for over a month now—often and consistently—and yet…and yet she still wanted him just as much as before. Her pulse still skyrocketed at his very proximity. She still ached for him, all the time; ached for all of him to be intertwined with all of her. 

But she wouldn’t really have him , would she? She would have his kisses. His demands and praises. She would have the singular feeling of his keen, intoxicating gaze devouring her body, worshiping her with his eyes. She would have the indescribable comfort and safety his presence brought her. Yes, Elain supposed, she would have all of that. 

As long as it was behind closed doors.

Azriel leaned forward, pushing his forehead against hers. “I’m not good with my words,” he murmured. “I don’t…I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to. Desperately.” His hot, sweet breath ghosted over her ear, then traveled down the curve of her jaw, and Elain had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. “So please, tell me what I can say to make this better. Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”

He was looking at her so fiercely, so sincerely, that she considered—just for a moment—giving in. But the feeling was as fleeting as it was dangerous. 

Gently, she disentangled herself from his embrace and took a step back. His arms fell limply to his side. 

“You are not as bad with words as you think,” she said, not unkindly. “You knew what you were saying the other day.”

Pain crashed across his face. He opened his mouth at the same time the clock struck noon, and then the manor was filled with the usual clanging of bell chimes. When the bellowing echoes finally ceased, Elain spoke.

“I have to go,” she said.

He nodded stiffly, that vein in his jaw still working.

“When you get back, we’re going to have a talk. I promise, El. Yeah? A talk, just you and me.” 

She nodded, throat too tight with emotion to speak. Gave him as genuine of a smile as she could muster, but she could tell that it was a weak attempt.

Something visceral flashed in his eyes, but before she could decipher it he was stepping back into his shadows. “Have a good trip,” he said, expression unreadable, the vulnerable male she’d seen just moments ago gone completely. “I’ll see you soon.” A pause, and then, like he couldn’t help himself: “Be safe, Elain. Please.”

He vanished. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Smoothed out a crease on her gown. Slung her pack over her shoulder and exited the room.

She had a mission to complete. 

And while she was at it, she hoped she got to pet a pegasus or two.

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[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 40: The Twelfth Lie. It was Kenshin's idea... but that doesn't make anyone else involved less guilty.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Mind the tagged TWs on this chapter...

Previous Chapter (posted earlier today): Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

On a beautiful Autumn day, an unusual caravan set off from Kasugayama toward Kyoto. Sasuke was being escorted to Honno-ji by Kenshin, Yukimura, and Mai, all of whom wanted a few more days with their friend before he blipped off into the future for a few months. Shingen and I travelled with them, because Kyoto was along the way to Ikuno, where Toshiie was, at last report, living as healer.

At least, that is what we claimed our plans were.    

Four of us were lying.

The weather was perfect, the kind of day I would normally have loved riding through, but the preemptive guilt about what the four of us were about to do weighed on me. I had told many lies in my life, most justifiable – although others may not agree with my justifications. Even though I knew the lie I was currently living was for a good cause, I was pretty sure the person who would be most affected by it would not agree.

“You’ve been quiet these past couple days.” Shingen drew Good Horse up to Moonlight’s side. Moonlight hadn’t had much exercise of late, and shot a glare at Good Horse, just because she was in a mood. I patted her side, and mentally willed her to behave.

“I’m quiet a lot of days.” Although usually when I was alone. But to forestall additional questions, I added a burst of inane chatter – apparently my “tell” that I was being truthful. “I’m listening to the day. I love the sound the leaves make this time of year. They crunch underfoot. Under hoof. I also love the way they rattle when the wind blows.”

He turned his face into the breeze, and I took a moment to appreciate his profile as his hair ruffled about. “I forget sometimes, what it can be like to taking what amounts to a pleasure ride.” Was he stockpiling experiences? Having decided to risk postponing treatment, was he saving up memories to keep if there came a time when he’d be too ill to go outside?

I forced my attention back to the present - if I kept dwelling on that thought, he was sure to stay suspicious of my behavior. “It’s what I liked the most about being a courier. Getting to spend a lot of time outside.” When the weather was nice, anyway. Or at least, dry. “Especially after… well, I always liked being outside, all my life, but I did appreciate it more after being trapped in that crate.”

Shingen brought Good Horse closer, then reached over and ran the back of his hand across my face – a touch so fleeting, it was almost a whisper. “I imagine so. A close brush with death tends to heighten one’s appreciation of… everything.”

He smiled at me, then turned to face the path again. We rode for a while in companionable silence. I took a few deep breaths and focused on the fact that he was with me now, and not on the separation to come.

“I can’t stand much more of this,” I said to Sasuke the following day. If the weather held, we’d likely arrive in Kyoto the next afternoon, but after three days of trying to pretend that everything was ok, my nerves were on edge.

Sasuke looked ahead, where Shingen was in the middle of an intense debate with Kenshin. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand me. “It’s difficult for me too – modern medical ethics being what they are. Yuki and Kenshin are different – well, Kenshin decides what’s best and kills you if you disagree. Yuki can’t stand the thought of losing Shingen.”

“He might… we might anyway.” I was not used to feeling this conflicted. Normally I figured out what I needed to do and did it, by whatever means necessary. I always told myself that anyone who was hurt by my actions would have been worse off if I had done nothing… but now I was second guessing everything. “It feels like whatever I do, it’s going to be the wrong decision.”

“There is no right decision,” Sasuke said.

“If you are trying to make me feel better, it is not helping.” I don’t know what I was looking for in terms of “help” anyway. Maybe all I wanted was a break from pretending.

“Damn it, Katsu, I’m a physicist, not a philosopher,” Sasuke peered at me hopefully through his glasses. “Normally, you would have laughed at that.”

“Sorry. I know you’re trying.” I summoned up the ghost of a smile. “Why is this suddenly so difficult for me? It’s not like haven’t spent the last few years of my life lying to everyone.”

He was quiet a long moment – knowing him it was because he was examining the data before him, then choosing his words carefully. “Probably because you never cared as much before.”

Ouch. Ok. Not choosing his words all that carefully.

I must have visibly recoiled because Sasuke continued. “Sorry, obviously I’m unlikely to make an adequate psychologist either. I didn’t mean to suggest that I ever considered you to be uncaring. Simply that as someone who’s known you for almost four years, you often seemed  somewhat… apart from things. Once you were revealed to as… well… you, you’re having to put all the pieces of yourself back into one person again, and some of the things that didn’t serve you as Katsu, or even as Kaya, are ummm… coming back online.”

“Alright. There were about three different metaphors tangled up in that, but I get your point.” Having my conscience return at this point was rotten timing, but my life was full of rotten timing. “It still leaves me questioning my judgment.”

“What I said earlier – that there’s no right answer – goes the opposite too,” Sasuke said. “It is equally true that there’s no wrong answer either.” He looked up above the trees, where the sun was resting on the one lone cloud visible in the otherwise clear sky. I suppose he was so used to looking for answers in the cosmos that it was his go to. “Perhaps that isn’t much of a comfort, but if you keep telling yourself that, maybe it will be easier to keep up the charade.”

“Maybe…” Our conversation was cut off when Yuki and Mai, who had been having another of their siblingesque spats, got tired of bickering and dropped back to chat with us.

Of necessity, due to her complete inability to carry out a deception of this magnitude, Mai had been kept in the dark as to our plans. So Sasuke immediately changed the subject midstream. “What’s to question? Even if Dr. Strange kills Dr. Who, Dr. Who could simply regenerate into a more powerful being.”

“I’m still going with stalemate.” I picked up the thread of the imaginary conversation. “Sorcerer versus Time Lord might be the first working perpetual motion machine.”

Mai jumped into the debate. “I vote Dr. Strange. In the blink of his eyes, he can figure out the only way in one billion simulations that will kill Dr. Who… so he’ll always be one step ahead.”

Yuki slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. “Not again. It was bad enough when there were only two of you doing that.”

It’s too bad I didn’t have a Sorcerer like Dr. Strange hand to run simulations until he had the correct answer for the current dilemma.

“Is there room for another up there?” Shingen called softly, looking up into the tree where I was currently perched.

I glanced at the next branch that – after an experimental shake – I judged sturdy enough to hold his weight. “Yes, but, I understand the concept of keeping lookout is that one person looks while everyone else – “

Shingen hauled himself into the tree.

“-sleeps.”

We had made camp just after sunset, and as with the previous nights, I had the first watch. Which generally was the easiest one, but at least they had given me one.

“Agreed, but I’m not yet ready to sleep.” He might also possibly be annoyed at the fact that Kenshin had vetoed even the thought of Shingen taking a watch shift. But by now, Kenshin, as well as everyone else, knew full well how often Shingen succumbed to the coughing fits. There are no secrets in camping.

Shingen rested against the tree trunk, looked around, the pulled a leaf out of my hair. “With the moon shining down on you, you look like a magical woodland creature. An enchantress.”

I conquered the urge to roll my eyes at that, have accepted that his flowery compliments were basically a form of Tourettes. Easier to simply be entertained by whatever he came up with next. “In Greek mythology, woodland enchantresses had a habit of transforming men into trees.”

“Were I transformed into a tree, you would very likely have climbed me… and it would have been the highlight of my days.” His face was shaded from the moon by leaves, but I imagined that if I had been able to make out his expression, I would have seen him wink.

This time the eyeroll won. I had walked into that one. And it did bring to mind the possibility of certain activities… that we’d likely not have time to try in the near future – if at all. My prior gloom returned.

Unlike Shingen’s, my face was apparently not hidden from the moonlight, for Shingen said, “There it is again. You are upset about something.”

Easier to divert to the thing that he already knew I was upset about. “I am, but as it’s something we’ve already discussed without coming to an agreement, it’s not worth ruining a pretty night light this bringing it up again.”

Shingen companionably took my hand. “Fair enough.”

We were quiet for a while, as I really was supposed to be the lookout. But eventually Shingen asked, “You’ve never mentioned any other family except for your brother. What about your parents? Friends? Do you think they are stuck in your time wondering what happened to the two of you?”

What thought had brought him to that line of questioning? “There might have been some fellow classmates who wondered at my disappearance – but as for family – no.” If the wormhole – and I was probably giving it anthropomorphic tendencies that it didn’t truly possess – had looked for two people whose disappearance was the least likely to cause a ripple, it had found them in Toshiie and me. I’d always been a bit of a loner and Toshiie was too busy with his studies (and checking up on me) to have much of a social life beyond an occasional hook-up.

He didn’t press for more details… I was well aware that silence was an interrogation technique, because we’d actually discussed such things. For a few moments I allowed the last of the summer cicadas, the rustle of the wind, and the sound of Yukimura’s snores filled the space between us. I might not have said anything more, but Sasuke’s prior comment about holding myself apart from others had stung. Shingen had told me plenty about his home, family and people, and I had been less reciprocal about my own family. “We never met our father. He left before we were born.” All my mother would say was that she had met him at University, and he’d pulled a disappearing act on her. “I’m honestly not sure if he even knew about us. And our mother…” I paused, not entirely sure how to explain, or even if I even wanted to. Certainly it was something that Toshiie and I never discussed, even though I was aware he believed we should. I’d shut him down every time he brought her up.

Shingen squeezed my hand. Maybe he was encouraging me to continue, or maybe he was telling me it was ok if I did not. But that made me feel ok to tell him the rest of it – at least in words someone of this time would understand. Suicide was not uncommon here at all. Seppuku was a ritual, an honorable death for defeated warriors and their families – and I didn’t know if Shingen would understand that my mother’s act had been something different. She hadn’t been defeated by war, but by her brain chemistry.  “She was always very sad. Until she finally decided she could no longer stand to live like that.” She’d hung on until Toshiie and I had started University, so at least one couldn’t claim that she’d abandoned small children. There was that, anyway.

Once again, he squeezed my hand. I appreciated that he hadn’t reflexively said he was sorry. “I imagine it wasn’t easy – for any of you.”

“No. But… it didn’t come as a shock.” I’d always had a checklist in my head to rate my mother’s moods on a daily basis. There had been times when I was afraid to go into her room because I never knew what I would find. Logically, I knew what she had was as much of a disease as if there had been something physical consuming her from within. Logic didn’t always stop me from sometimes being angry or resentful that I hadn’t been enough for her. It only made me feel guilty when the anger and resentment took hold.

As I looked down on the array of tents below, it occurred to me that this group of people was a stronger family unit than the one that had been composed of my mother, Toshiie and I.

At that moment, the gruff patriarch figure called up to us from under the tree. “Shingen, stop distracting the lookout.”

I hadn’t been that distracted, since I still had kept an eye on our surroundings, but I wondered if our low-voiced conversation had woken up Kenshin.

“I’m sorry, I found this tree sprite too tempting to resist,” Shingen called down to him.

“As I am awake now and not likely to sleep as long as the two of you keep babbling away, I may as well take over.” Kenshin grumbled and drew his sword. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will attack us.”

Shingen climbed down from the tree, then glanced up at me before I made my own descent. “Would it do me any good at all to offer to catch you?”

“Nope. Don’t look if it bothers you so much.” I flipped myself down.

Once I was on the ground, Kenshin gave me a long look then… patted me on the head.

?!

“Don’t spend all night talking,” was all he said, before climbing up to take my place.

“He… just… patted me on the head.” Kenshin had patted me on the head like I was his little sister.

“Yes.” Shingen placed his hand on my lower back and steered me toward our tent.

“Why?” Had he overheard our talk? Did he feel sorry for me?

“Perhaps some day he will tell you,” Shingen replied with a finality. “Come on, Devil. Let’s make the most of the night.” He held open the tent flap.

“Did you not just hear Kenshin caution us not to stay up all night?” I ducked inside and Shingen pulled me into his arms.

“He said don’t spend all night talking. I have no intention of talking.” He kissed the side of my throat. “Perhaps I’ll be permitted to whisper.” His voice got lower, not as much as a whisper by a caramel coated come-hither. “I’ll tell you how lovely you looked in the tree, how lovely you look now, wrapped in my arms.”

…Later, as I curled next to him, his arm under my head, I discovered tears leaking from my eyes. This had been my goodbye, though Shingen would not learn that yes. Though I hoped it would not be too long before we could be reunited, there would then be the necessity of earning forgiveness – if indeed that could be earned after this kind of betrayal.

There was a brush of his fingertip against my cheek, as he caught the next tear before it could travel further on its own. To my relief, he didn’t question, saving me the trouble of telling him yet another lie.

We reached Honno-ji just after sunset the next day. Sasuke had calculated that the wormhole would open up later that night and the sound of a distant storm seemed to confirm that. The electricity hovered in the air, a familiar static crackle that felt like there centipedes running along my arms. Yes. It had been almost seven years, but I remembered this.

Citing a concern for Shingen’s health, Yuki shepherded us into the temple as rain began falling. The fire damage from earlier this summer had yet to be repaired and smoke stains were everywhere. Shingen eyed a broken beam. “This building is not particularly stable.”

“It’s also not raining in here,” Yuki said, as he plunked himself down against the wall.

A splatter of water hit me on the nose. I looked up to see a hole in the ceiling. “Yes, it is.”

“How will you know when this wormhole is open?” Kenshin asked Sasuke, who was poking around with interest.

“You’ll know. It’s difficult to miss,” Sasuke said. A flash of lightning turned the room pinkish purple for a moment. “It may be arriving sooner than I anticipated.” He gathered his pack, which aside from containing his modern clothing, also held a letter I had written before leaving Kasugayama. While he did that, Yuki slipped outside for a moment.

In my own things, I had instructions from Sasuke, giving me his best estimate for when the Togakushi “node” would open up – a window of time beginning in about ten weeks. He had handed me the scroll, with a disclaimer. “I can’t be completely certain until I am back at my lab. But this ought to work,” He had said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “At least theo-“

“If you say ‘theoretically’ one more time, I’m going to borrow Kenshin’s sword and stab you myself,” had been my reply to that.

“Not one of your daggers?”

“The occasion would call for an upgrade.”

Now, as I remembered that rushed private meeting back in Kasugayama, I wondered if Sasuke had been hedging his bets because he truly wasn’t sure what was going on with the timeline, or because he didn’t think this gamble would pay off at all.

I looked back up at the dripping ceiling and sighed. Shingen pulled me away from the leak. “Get out of the rain, Devil.” He brushed raindrops off my hair. “I’m well aware you’ve spent a significant amount of time in my presence while soaked to the skin, but in this case, it is not necessary.” He led me into a drier section of the temple. He kissed the top of my head. “Something seems to be eating at you, and once we are on our way again, I’m going to insist we talk about it.”

“That would be good.” It would be, if it actually were to happen. Odd though, for him to insist on a conversation, when he’d been ducking so many of my own overtures this past month.

“Sasuke.” Mai’s voice sounded loud over a lull in the conversation. “I don’t suppose you could bring back some chocolate? It might be the one thing I miss that you could actually carry back.”

“What is chocolate?” Shingen asked, having caught on to the fact that it was something to be desired.

Mai side eyed him. “Bring a lot.”

While Mai conveniently had Shingen’s attention, Yuki slipped back inside carrying Shingen’s pack, which he’d liberated from Good Horse’s saddlebag. He handed it to Sasuke, who slung it over his shoulder.

“It’s coming,” Sasuke said, prompting last-minute hugs and bro-slaps.

I could still change my mind.

I could grab Shingen’s hand and pull him out of here. Kenshin and Yuki would eventually catch us, but it would be too late by then. I could do that. But… could I keep him alive long enough to get to Togakushi? Could I even get him there at all? I remembered that awful morning when I’d managed to get him out of the cave. I’d barely managed to go five kilometers before Yukimura had taken over. That had been in summer, over relatively flat territory; not in winter, in the mountains.

It wouldn’t be enough.

I wouldn’t be enough.

No – I pushed away my second thoughts (by this time they were more like fifth thoughts).  Kenshin’s plan was Shingen’s best chance to live.

In the flurry of activity and the howling of the storm, I moved to distract Shingen from Yukimura and Kenshin, who had drawn their swords. But while throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a kiss may have begun as a distraction, I willed everything I had not and could not say into the kiss, until emboldened by the way his arms tightened around me, I broke away. “Don’t hate me. I’d rather be apart from you and believe you alive and healthy, than watch you painfully slip away.”

“Katsuko… what?” That was all he got out before Yuki and Kenshin advanced on him, swords drawn. Realization dawned, and he reached for me again.

“I love you,” I whispered, but I don’t think he heard me.

He stretched his hand toward me. Our fingers nearly touched, slipping past each other, as Sasuke grabbed him, and pulled him into the wormhole.

Then Kenshin herded us all backward, away from the fog, which disappeared after Sasuke and Shingen in a swirl of wind like a cyclone drawing back into itself.

Only a bit of leftover rain dripping from the ceiling was all that remained of the storm.

“What the hell did you guys just do?” Mai whispered into the sudden silence.

@bestbryn

[nghtnrmz]

There are a lot of things I don't feel good about lately. A lot of my words and actions. I'm not saying that all of them were wrong or unwarranted. I know I could've been better. It doesn't feel like the person I want to be. There's been a lot of building anger and resentment… a lot of it paired with my #impeccably_bad_timing. It would seem as though I never do things right. I know that's something that's been eating at me because, well here it is, my daddy issues. I hate that it's called daddy issues by the way; that is probably because the internet has corrupted my mind. My mind isn't anything like I would have imagined it to be like when I was younger. That makes me sort of sad. I'm not living up to my youngerself's very high expectations. Everyone's expectations. I feel like I let everyone down. They say libras are people pleasers and that's true. Don't even get me started in that harsh #ass_vigo_mars and that mean #scorpio_mercury. I shouldn't be talking about astrology right now nor should I associate my placements with super negative traits. I put my strengths down a lot. I don't give my self enough credit. At the same time I could say that I do. When I do things I find fun and liberating I justify it with all of my hard work. And still I feel like it's really not that hard, it's barely even work. I just do what I can and what I think is right. Sometimes it is selfish. I could do much more, but I want to enjoy my freedoms. I think that is selfish sometimes, but I can justify it,…? I have high expectations, high standards and strong morals. My morals are stronger than I want to believe, stronger than I allow myself to believe. I lie to myself sometimes. I lie to other people sometimes. It's dangerous because sometimes I forget my lies. But that's okay as Nate said, “The truth will set you free”, and I believe that, even before he said it. When am I going to let myself be free? Probably when I figure out what freedom really means to me. Liberation from who? Liberation from where? Liberation from what? Liberation how? I genuinely don't think I know myself enough and yet I know myself wholeheartedly. I've always known myself but I feel like I get lost sometimes in my head. Sometimes I leave, I do not recognize myself after the fact. It's a solemn feeling afterward. It's something that I can't help but accept. There is no hiding when you get caught, I can't lie my way out of everything. I know though, that I will have to see myself the next day. And she knows the full truth that I can't remember. It's in my eyes, my teeth, my bruises. It's ugly. I feel ugly. I think she's ugly. Those high standards. I picture such a beautiful world in my head and yet still I know things aren't always pretty. I think I make myself forget when they aren't pretty. That being said I am the whole me and I've never not been pretty, so how could I forget myself? It's an escapist thing, I go too far and forget who I am and how I want to present myself and who I want to be. High expectations. There are a lot of things I don't feel good about lately and how I feel about myself is one of those. I thought Ioved myself but probably not enough. I need to change myself, there constantly has to be a change to improve. High morals.

[theyhaveacavetroll]

sky + andreas + "just like your mother"

@lilshitwayne - I'm reasonably sure this was not what you had in mind, but it looks like it's time for me to get out my angsty, angsty headcanons about how Sky came to be, so here they are!

Note: This one comes with an implied/referenced dubcon/noncon warning.

"Who was my mother?" Sky asks one afternoon, and Andreas tries very, very hard not to wince.

It had to happen eventually, of course, but he'd hoped he'd have a little longer to reconnect with his son first. It's only been five months, and the boy is understandably still angry at him. He'd hoped - well. He'd hoped the subject wouldn't come up, really, but that was never going to happen.

"Your mother," he says, and Sky gives him an exasperated look.

"Yes, my mother," he responds. "You know, my mother? I did have one, right, they didn't just - clone you or something."

That strikes Andreas as just strange enough to be amusing, and he lets out a huff of laughter.

"No, you're not a clone," he answers.

"So who was she?" Sky demands, and Andreas looks up at him.

"You want the truth, or a lie that will make you feel better?" he asks, and Sky gives him a stare that can only be called hostile. "Right," Andreas says, "the truth, then." There's no sugarcoating it, and no way to say this that won't sound bad. "The truth is that I knew your mother for one night. We fucked, and ten months later, you were delivered to me on campaign. Rosalind was furious, Farah was amused, and I was thrilled because I hoped you would be the reason I was sent home to Eraklyon in disgrace, never to see another Burned One or blood witch again."

Sky stares at him, and Andreas turns away.

"You asked," he defends, and he can feel the exact moment that Sky's curiosity overrules his good sense.

"Wait, so I'm the result of you cheating on Saul and being stupid enough not to take precautions?" he asks, and for one moment - just one - Andreas wants to take the out his son is offering him. The condemnation. It would be so easy to play into what Sky already thinks of him but -

He closes his eyes, and imagines what Saul would think if he found out that Andreas had willingly allowed their son to think this. He imagines what Ben Harvey would say, and what Farah would think, and he takes a deep breath.

"That's what Saul thought at first," he hedges. "It was lucky you were a baby and needed me, otherwise I'd have been sleeping outside."

Maybe Sky will miss the first part, Andreas thinks. Maybe -

"So if it wasn't cheating, what was it?" Sky asks skeptically, and Andreas restrains his urge to swear.

"Do you remember the stories they told you about me?" he asks abruptly, and Sky frowns.

"Hard not to," he answers. "Andreas, the great hero who killed more Burned Ones than anyone. Andreas the fucking legend I could never live up to who - who won the day at -"

"Yes, all of those," Andreas cuts him off. "They were telling them during the war, too - all that bullshit, pretending I - farted gold or killed Burned Ones by breathing the same air they did."

Sky gives an amused snort, and then resumes glaring harder this time, seemingly offended that he finds Andreas funny.

"What's that got to do with anything?" he asks, and Andreas sobers.

"Your mother had heard them too," he answers. "We were - Rosalind needed -" He stops, and scrubs both hands over his face. "Fuck," he mutters, and sits down. He motions Sky to sit down as well, and his son, for once, does as he's bid, sitting down next to Andreas with a confused look on his face.

"What the hell does Rosalind have to do with this?" he asks, and Andreas gives a hollow laugh.

"Everything," he answers. "The war was going poorly. We were short on supplies, short on men, short on everything but Burned Ones. There was this small duchy in Solaria, right on the border with Linphea. They had - things we needed, weapons and cloth for uniforms and food that would keep the men fed for months, and the duchess was stubborn. So very, very stubborn, and the army was desperate. We'd begged and pleaded, gone to the queen, offered all there was to offer, but -"

He shrugs. He remembers the long, hungry months, and the cold, and he remembers the warmth of the duchess's palace. He remembers the day they'd arrived, and how the comfort of the rooms had seemed like heaven even though he'd grown up in a place ten times better. He remembers the duchess's appreciative gaze.

He remembers the day he'd realized what price she intended to demand.

"She was a great art lover, the Duchess," he continues. "Loved paintings, and sculptures, and there were rumors she loved the men who posed for those works. Rosalind - worked a deal," he continues. He can't look at Sky right now - can't meet his son's eyes. "The Duchess drove a hard bargain, but at the end of it, we had our supplies. The war continued. And then - nearly a year later -"

He waits. Sky isn't a stupid boy - just a sheltered one, but not so much so that he can't add two plus two, or so Andreas hopes. He'd really rather not say it - not the whole of it.

"I still don't get what -" Sky starts, and then he looks at Andreas - really looks at him, and Andreas can feel the moment when Sky understands at last. "Oh my god," Sky chokes. He sounds as though he's going to be sick, and Andreas can't blame him for it. "She pimped you. Rosalind just -" He gestures toward Andreas and trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Andreas is grateful for that.

"It wasn't a bad night," Andreas says quietly, and takes a drink from the glass near his elbow. "She was pretty, your mother. Strong-willed. You get that from her."

She's the reason Andreas still doesn't like being tied down in bed, but he's not sharing that with Sky. As it is, his son is staring at him in horror, and Andreas bows his head.

"I told you you wouldn't like the truth," he mutters - and then gives a soft oof, and freezes, because Sky is suddenly there, hugging him for the first time in over sixteen years.

His son is taller than him, and every bit as broad, and Andreas does not hesitate to return the embrace. He holds onto his boy tight, hooking his chin over his son’s shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Sky mumbles, and Andreas reaches up with one hand and ruffles his son's hair.

“It’s alright,” he soothes. “I told you, I don’t blame you.” He rubs the boy's back with his other hand, much the same way he did when Sky was very, very small. It soothes him, too, doing this - it's been a long, long time since then and he's missed it.

“Is that - is that why you stayed away for sixteen years?” Sky asks, pulling away, and Andreas catches him by the shoulders, refusing to let him withdraw.

“No,” he answers, shaking his head. “Skylark - no. I was gone for sixteen years because Rosalind was a monster and I had no choice." He can say that now - can acknowledge it out loud where he couldn't before. "I didn’t even have the ability to know that there was a choice, let alone to make it. It wasn’t personal.” He shakes his son’s shoulders just a little on that last point, and Sky breathes a sigh of what might be relief.

“I - ok,” he says finally. “Alright. Wait - is that why you said that, the first time I tried to talk to you?” 

Andreas nods. 

“I didn’t know what Saul had told you,” he confesses. “I half expected to find he’d made me out to be the kind of monster who would blame his son for his mother’s sins.”

Sky shakes his head.

"No," he says. "He never said anything about my mother. Guess now I know why."

Andreas grimaces.

"I think she's still alive," he says. "I wouldn't advise meeting her, though. She's -"

"A fairy," Sky says with an answering grimace, and Andreas nods.

"One that believes in the old traditions," he says. "Yes."

Sky nods.

"Right," he says. "So that leaves her off the Yule card list, then. Was there anything about her that didn't suck?"

Andreas shrugs.

"I don't know," he confesses. "Do you like art or dogs or handsome young men?"

Sky gives him a flat stare.

"I grew up riding horses," he answers. "But yes, I like dogs."

"There you are, then," Andreas answers. "Just like your mother."

Sky shakes his head.

"First thing when I move in with Bloom, we're getting a cat," he mutters. "And a guinea pig."

[deerydear]

I wonder if part of my resolution involves giving up the detective job. Not trying to get inside the mind of the insane, anymore. Not taking on "the smoker's burden" even for a day, because who knows what lingers. Neither must you take on a piece of my own sadness.

I've pondered before, that I learned something from hearing the story of Jesus dying for humanity's sins... If each person had each taken on the weight of their own sins.... then that weight would not be placed on Jesus. There would be no excess weight. No denial. No fear.

As Jung spoke of his dream of Drinking the Sun, and the hungry-thirsty Suckling Earth which sucks your dreams out from you, and plays them out in front of you. You are full of things... and the earth suckles them out. The only thing which does not suckle is the Sun, which feeds you warm Light.

He said Jesus was the Son of Light. A self-created man which is not made from your dreams, which does not suckle from you... but which sustains through himself.

The Earth creates all these webs, and the Sun rises and cuts through them.

"Don't crucify yourself on the cross of someone else' problems."

That's what I hear.

They'll worship you, and praise you, but they make themselves forget. They vomit out knowledge, and replace it with blindness.

God helps those who help themselves.

If someone reaches their hand out in help of you, and you don't take it...

then what?

Are you waiting for the next one?

Are you waiting for the beginning of the next solar cycle?

Throughout my journey into the Underworld, dozens of people tried to help me... stop me, make me understand what I was doing in reality. I brushed them off, to stay inside my murderous delusion. My dark closet where no light could reach me.

I thought it some sort of "revenge" for being temporarily placed in there, a long long time ago.

Everything ends.

Will you weep yourself in a stinking grave? Letting the rain mat your hair down, and fill up your mouth. and yet in the sky, through your own imagination... you pretend that it wants you to stay down there, as if it had a will to keep you down there.

It doesn't. It would accept either choice you made. It's the sky. It watches you. Does the sky have hands to pick you up and right you?

Don't you have legs?

Would you cut off your legs just to force the sky to pick you up?

What are you, a murderer? A child?

You're pretty big for a baby.

What if it didn't pick you up?

What if you were just left there.... bleeding out into the cold earth. Only now, through the strength of your arms... do you crawl to safety. People find you, and they take you to the hospital, and they bandage your stump-legs. You did this.

Is it easier, less humiliating to lie and pretend to be a raving madman?

"Arrrr, I did it to myself, and I'd gladly do it to your daughters, too!"

...but that is not the truth.

Grief.... Loneliness. Can you accept being measured against other people?

Everyone has grief. Everyone lives in this turning world along with you.

Can you accept temporary embarassment?

You know, it's a sign of strength to be able to own yourself.

Strong people will admire you for owning your mistakes. We all have a responsibility. Please take yours.